Chapter 1

I had just gotten out of the shower when the phone rang. It was my husband, Darrell. “I was just getting ready to leave the office, Brenda,” he said. “Frank Just threw a brief on my desk and said it needed to be proofed again before Monday morning when he will start a new defense in court.” He went on. “Frank and his wife are hosting a large fundraiser, and he is stuck.” With a sigh, he kept on, “I feel like shit that I will not be seeing Jim this week, honey. He has done so much for us. I know Gary will be pissed. But he has things like this happen too and will understand. Trish’s feelings will be hurt. I am not a full partner yet, and Frank is in a bad place on this.”

It was not as if I was not accustomed to it happening. It had happened too many times before, and this was too much. Darrell had just been appointed Junior Partner of his law firm where he had been working since getting his bar degree. I was an accountant for a large agency and often had to work long hours towards the end of tax season. But with Darrell, this happened constantly, particularly since he had become a junior partner. I was tired of it. But with the raise he had gotten and the things we would be able to do, I knew I should not complain. So, I picked up the phone to tell Trish we would not be coming.

Hi, Trish. I just called to tell you that Darrell will be working late again. Looks like we will not be able to come.”

“OH NO, NOT AGAIN,” Trish said. The disappointment in her voice could not be masked. “We were looking forward to it so much. And Daddy will be so disappointed, he is leaving on Sunday. He loves BOTH you and Darrell. “HEY, there is no reason you should not come. Come, Bren.”

“I don’t know, Trish...”

“COME, we will not be deprived of your company, Bren. Make yourself pretty and come over as soon as you can.”

As I hung up the phone, I did not know whether I was angrier, sadder, or glad that our friends wanted me there so badly. And there was something about Jim Correy, Trish’s father, that always made me feel so, um, I cannot even put my finger on my feelings for him. It had to do with his wife’s sudden passing over a year ago. I felt so bad when it happened, and I know this is going to sound weird. He is seventy-two. I am thirty-three. But I felt motherly toward him. Jim and Martha were an ideal couple: he was a svelte six-footer with a ruggedly handsome face, deep blue eyes, and white wavy hair. Martha at five-feet-five inches tall had a shapely body, mauve colored eyes in her beautiful face topped by light ash blonde hair the slinky length of Lauren Bacall’s. Since she passed away all I could think was that Jim needed to find another beautiful woman. Who was I to think that? Trish was my best friend and sorority sister from college though, and we have always looked out for each other. Darrell and Gary knew each other in college as well.

As couples in college, we double-dated several times. Since he was the only one with a car Darrell always drove. I envied Trish who often necked in the back seat with Gary. Darrell did not show the same kind of intimacy to me, he was more conservative. From the time we all graduated and got married, we hung around with each other for the last eight years, growing as close as a family. We even travel abroad together. As spouses both couples seemed well-matched. Darrell and I were conservative and staid. Gary and Trish were a sexy couple. I was quietly jealous of their relationship. Defensively I thought Darrell’s and my sex life was good, but in their presence, I often felt lacking. Having been with Trish’s parents, often enough over the years, I had always been aware that Jim and Martha were an unusually intimate couple and had continually wished that Darrell would be as warm with me as Jim was with Martha. Gary and Trish were touchy-feely as well, but they were nowhere as close as Jim and Martha.

As good friends, we always had an enjoyable time. That night seemed special though because Jim was there. We laughed a good deal and even threw around some double intenders. I had never seen Jim participate that way and was curious about it. But I had rarely been with him as a lone “other female” when he was the lone “other man.” Something else I became aware of, and that was probably because Darrell was not there. maybe I was returning Jim’s somewhat long stares, which I doubt he would have done were Darrell there. He had not done it before.

It was 10:30 when Jim said, “I am getting a bit tired. Think I will hit the sack.” I do not know why I was so disappointed. Maybe it was because we had killed three bottles of wine, and I was feeling both buzzed and comfortable. I knew I had to go home as well and was sad about it.

After Jim left the room, and I said that I had to go too, Trish said, “No effing way, Bren. You are slurring your words, and you are as buzzed as we are. You are staying here tonight.”

“I can’t stay, Trish, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I’ll give you one of my T’s, Bren,”

“I don’t have a toothbrush.”

“We always keep new ones in the guest bathroom.”

“What about Darrell?”

“You said he is working all night. Send him a text.”

Standing in front of the mirror, I opened the top drawer of the vanity and picked up a brand-new toothbrush. As I turned, I noticed my butt peeking out from beneath the hem of the T-Shirt Trish had given me to sleep in. I was an inch and a half or so taller than Trish so more of my tush was exposed. I was a little unsteady, so I put the hand without the toothbrush flat on the counter to steady myself then took another look. Darrell always commented on my “great ass.” I worked out regularly and I was only a couple of pounds heavier than when we had gotten married. Like any woman who knew what she had, I took pride in being ogled by other men. For some reason, I thought, I wonder what Jim would think of this? Immediately feeling threatened and aroused, I wished Darrell were standing beside me naked and could make love to me.

I realized how wet I had become between my legs and felt sexy. Putting the toothbrush on the counter I turned my body to face the mirror, craned my neck, and, as I lifted the hem of the T-shirt, I took a good look at my bottom. Nice, I thought. Even more aroused I sat down on the toilet seat, spread my legs, and assessed the wetness of my vagina. Closing my eyes I touched myself and easily soaked the tip of my finger with my secretions, wincing when I touched my clitoris. I imagined that my finger was Darrell’s, but I gave a sarcastic chuckle and thought, Darrell does not even know about my clitoris. The thought immediately morphed to; I wonder if Jim knew about Martha’s. Surely, they did not go through forty years of marriage with him not knowing about it. I will have to talk to Darrell about this, “if he’ll let me.”

Turning to go back to the guest bedroom, I steadied myself as I walked through the bathroom door while embarrassed that Trish and Gary thought I had drunk too much wine. I had to lean against the bedroom door to keep from stumbling. God damn you, Darrell? Pissed that I was in this position because of him. But I knew the decision to come was mine. Feeling the cool sheets caressing my legs as I slid under them, I muttered, “It would be fun if we could have sex in a different bed for a change,” but I knew that had we come as a couple we would not even think of staying the night.

After laying there for a few moments the bed began to spin. I put one foot on the floor which stopped spinning. Holding it there for a few minutes, I concentrated on holding back any nausea that might arise. When the threat of that stopped, I slid my leg back under the covers, now completely comfortable in Trish and Gary’s guest bed. Trying to fall asleep I could not get used to the subtle noises of sleeping in a strange bed in a new room. I moved my legs as if I were using them to make a snowman while lying in the snow which was enough to excite my libido. Thoughts of Darrell joining me caused me to put my hands between my legs and explore my pussy. While not an excessive masturbator I was amazed at how wet I had become.

Perhaps it was the wine, or thoughts of my husband being with me in a strange bed that had me caressing my clitoris. I had no idea why Jim Correy’s face flashed through my brain. Consciously I had never thought of him that way. He is at least forty years older than I am for Christ’s sake. But that face stirred feelings that had me furiously rubbing my clitoris until I gasped and sank back into orgasm, which I had precious few of since having married Darrell.

Whether or not I had orgasmed with Darrell in mind I needed a little cuddling before going to sleep. But after getting such release from this self-generated orgasm I felt the need for more. As my fingers toyed with my sexual parts; my inner vagina, and the space between my pussy and anus (perineum), I was conscious of how these surfaces tingled more than before. It must be the wine, I thought.

My clitoris seemed to me like Ulysses’ siren calling me to caress and rub it harder. I was intrigued to see if I could bring my clitoris to a state of engorgement that it had been in before experiencing that magnificent climax. Closing my eyes and shutting out all ambient house noises, sounds of late-night traffic, and the faraway whispering of passing jets, I concentrated on my node in its budding distension. Just as I tightened my legs on the hand that pleasured me, I was startled by a noise that seemed like the doorknob turning. In a state of confused fright, I froze.

As a hinge groaned almost silently in the door’s slow opening, I turned my head and spied a tall figure framed darkly in the doorway. Frightened, I turned defensively on my side; hunched my shoulders, put my praying hands between my tightened thighs, and drew my body into a fetal position. I felt the covers on the left side of the bed being lifted; the mattress sinking with the interloper’s weight, the person’s back lowered to its surface as two legs swung in place and the bedcovers being pulled back over the body beside me. As still as if I were in hiding, I closed my eyes tight while wondering, Is it, Gary? He would not do that to Trish. Could it be Jim? And why? Or might it be Darrell who called it a night at work and sneaked over? Breathing shallowly, I tried to vanish the person beside lying so incredibly still as if that person next to me did not exist. But the heat exuding from that person’s body radiated against my back.

The silence seemed to last for an eternity, yet a living breathing person was lying beside me. Maybe I am dreaming. I could have dozed off. I have had too much wine. I had to do something. Pulling my left hand free I placed it flat on the mattress and inched toward the phantasm. “Holy shit,” I murmured as I touched a warm hand in a matching position.

“Shh,” came the person’s sibilant caution as the hand covered mine, warmly grasping it as a voice said, “It is going to be okay, Brenda. It is Jim.”

“JIM,” I said, my voice elevating.

“Shh. It is going to be okay, dear.”

“But.”

“Shh.” His hand held mine so gently that it felt like my hand was in a velvet glove. I closed my eyes as if I were disappearing into a magic cave and drifted into sleep.

I do not know how long I was out. But the dream that had been so disturbing was now comforting. I had to remind myself that I was not in my bed but Trish’s and Gary’s guest bed instead. Darrell was spooned into my back. His arm was between my left arm and my side, his hand tenderly fondling my breast. DARRELL, I thought in alarm, DARREL RARELY SPOONS WITH ME. My body tensed as I heard a murmuring whisper, “It is going to be okay, Brenda. This is going to be a wonderful night for you. And do not worry about Darrell. He will be all right too.”