Chapter 6

Alyce had not wanted to wait up for Eddie but she could not sleep and the sleeping pill she had taken the other night made her feel so groggy the next day that she did not want to go through that again. She tossed and turned and tossed so more, every few moments looking at the clock which seemed almost to have stopped, time was going so slowly. Finally at 5AM when she could see a little bit of daylight beginning to filter through the bedroom drapes, she heard him. She was too distraught for a confrontation with her husband so she feigned sleep; although she lay under the blankets like a coiled spring, listening to him undress. After what seemed like hours, Eddie crawled into bed beside her.

Still pretending that she was sound asleep, restlessly, she moved closer to him, snuggling into his back and throwing an arm over his body. Eddie turned away, gently removing her arm, and moved away to his side of the king-sized bed.

Feeling like she had been punched in the stomach by his unconscious rejection of her, Alyce smothered her face in the pillow and tried to keep from screaming out her sorrow.

The next day there was to be some sort of open house at the tennis club for new members so Eddie did not have to get up early. He rose and went downstairs to make his protein drink in the blender. Alyce was sitting in the kitchen, tensely, going over the newspaper with blank eyes and she did not greet him when he came into the kitchen.

Complete silence reigned although the atmosphere was charged with vibrations so heavy they could have been sliced and packaged.

Eddie dressed and almost left the house without saying goodbye when he remembered something.

"Oh, by the way, Alyce, don't forget we're going over to the Marsdale's tonight..."

"Okay," she said, not looking up from her paper.

Then he was gone. Alyce got up and watched him until he was out of sight, then she slammed the door and stumbled up to her bedroom in a fit of rage. At least he could have the decency to let me know what he's up to, she fumed. I am owed some kind of explanation for his behavior the last week. If it's another woman, I want to know. I have the right to know.

Realizing that she was hardly going to solve any of her problems by lying in bed, she decided to busy herself with some of the things she had been putting off. Still angry, she began wandering around the house picking up the dirty clothes to take to the laundry. In the bathroom hamper she found one of Eddie's tennis shirts and covering the little embroidered racquet in the corner was a big smear of red lipstick!

Alyce thought she almost could have rationalized that lipstick. It could have been an enthusiastic student or something but it was the hardened, thick glob on the inside of his shorts that convicted him in her mind. She stared at the whitish blob of his cum and knew now without a doubt that he had been with another woman! Eddie, her husband of three months was tucking around !

Once again, feeling like she had been punched in the stomach, Alyce wondered just how much she could stand. Dully, she walked over to the sofa, not feeling like taking her husband's cum-stained laundry to the cleaners but not knowing what else to do.

Dully, her eyes fixed themselves on the small bar. She went to it, like a magnet poured herself a stiff tumbler of scotch and drank it off in four gulps, feeling the fiery liquid boil into her guts, numbing her brain and tingling through her tense body. She wanted to stop the raging thoughts; push them into oblivion, anything to blot out the memory, the knowledge that her husband was already involved in an affair with another woman after only a few months of marriage.

Alyce was confident of her looks, indeed she knew that she was beautiful and desirable. As if to check, she went into the bathroom, removed her robe and looked at herself in the full-length mirror.

Critically, she examined her reflection, smoothing her hands over generous breasts and the swell of hips and thighs, turning to look at the rounded, firm buttocks and finding no flaw in her svelte figure. She knew that she was fully developed, feminine and capable of much love.

Now, she examined the soft, fleecy triangle of her pubic mound, turned to examine, in turn, the tight split of her vaginal opening; finally, standing again, using her hands to pull up her breasts to full mounds of femaleness, trying to pose provocatively, lewdly, obscenely. She found the poses totally alien to her character.

Her own face came back into focus and she was startled for a second. She had been sick with worry and her face showed it.

What am I going to do?

Suddenly the front doorbell sounded and Alyce barely hesitated. She certainly was not in the mood for any company but she did not want to be caught in the middle of the day still in her bathrobe. Hurriedly, she grabbed a summer shift from the closet, shrugging it on over her and smoothing it down over her hips and breasts not bothering to put on panties or a bra. Rapidly, she ran a brush through her golden hair and went to answer the front door.

Standing there his hands on his hips not in his usual tennis garb was Clay Marsdale, her husband's boss.

She was startled. "Why, Mr. Marsdale, what can I do for you? Eddie's already gone over to the open house."

"I didn't come here to see Eddie," he said in a very stern sounding voice. "May I come in? It's important."

"Oh, certainly," she swung the door wide for him. "Please come in. Forgive me. I'm a little out of it today," she said, stumbling over her words.

Marsdale entered and sat down on the edge of a chair and refused her offer for refreshment, liquid or otherwise.

"Something very important has come up," he said in a very menacing tone.

Alyce was really mystified. Why would Clay Marsdale have anything important to discuss with her?

"What is it, Mr. Marsdale?" she began. Worriedly, she sank down on the sofa, being careful of the manner of her sitting, aware that she had no underwear on in front of this strange man.

Clay leered at her barely able to conceal his lust. His eyes had caught the fact that she was not wearing anything underneath her summer shift; additionally, he had caught the smell of liquor on her breath, and he knew that all was not well in the Frampton household.

"Mrs. Frampton, there's no need now for beating about the bush," he said his lips pulling back into a tight line. "No doubt, you are aware of the fact that your husband did not arrive home until almost daylight and that he probably offered no explanation for his behavior."

Alyce gasped and covered her face from him with acute humiliation. She didn't answer him. Dear God, did everyone know about Eddie's infidelity except her?

"You know, don't you?" his voice was harsh, demanding.

"Yes," she said dully.

"Do you have any idea where he was during those long hours away from you?" he probed unmercifully, acting like some kind of inquisitor of prisoners.

"No, I don't," her voice squeaked out.

"I know where he was!" He had waited quietly for a couple of moments before dropping his bombshell.

Alyce's reaction was immediate. Her head jerked up. She stared in horror, her face a mask of stunned hopelessness. "Where... how can you know?"

"I know where your husband was BECAUSE HE WAS WITH MY WIFE, NINA!"

The young blonde wished at that moment that a hole would open in her living room floor so she could be swallowed up and would not have to face this shock and embarrassment. She again covered her lovely young face with her hands, blocking her from his leering gaze.

"With Nina... your wife?" she stuttered out almost inaudibly from behind her hands.

"Yes, in fact, I filmed the entire thing on video tape and I want you to come over to my house to see it," he said.

"Dear God, no!" she cried and flung herself down on the couch, her dress rising with her movement to reveal her long, smoothly tapering legs to the lustful gaze of Clay Marsdale.

He allowed her to stay that way for a few moments, then went to sit beside her on the couch to soothe her with words of sympathy.

"Now, now, Mrs. Frampton. I know how you must feel. How shocking it is to find out that your husband has been unfaithful."

Then, gently, he raised her up, continuing. "But you must remember that I've been cuckolded too. My own wife was with your husband!"

"Of course, you're right," she murmured, "I'd almost forgotten."

"Now, Mrs. Frampton, I don't know what you propose to do about your husband, but I assure you that I am going to take some kind of action and soon!" he said, almost frightening her with the force of his words.

Uncertainty and confusion were swirling through her. She did not want to have to make decisions at a time like this. "I just don't know. I need some time to think..."

Marsdale continued on. "I've had a little more time to think about it. I'm not at all sure that I want to divorce my wife for her... uh... indiscretion. I don't want to go through that at this time. But, I must say that the need for revenge is strong in me..."

Alyce stared at him, wide-eyed, not understanding what he was driving at. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"I think that we should pay them back. I think that they should know what it's like to have the same thing done to them!" He smiled at her suggestively, lewdly, his voice taking on a seductive tone.

Alyce turned crimson, fully understanding his proposal now. "Why, Mr. Marsdale, that's absolutely outrageous. I'm not interested in pursuing that line at all."

"But that's the only way that we can make them see the light. Make them confront themselves to know if they really care. it's the only way of getting back our partners," he purred.

His reasoning escaped her, but his smooth convincing presentation of the idea seemed somewhat of a solution. She couldn't agree with him, but neither could she really have any way of knowing what to do in a situation like this where she had no experience. After all, Eddie had certainly broken their marriage vows. But two wrongs do not make a right.

"Oh, Mr. Marsdale, maybe what you say is right. I don't know," she said doubtfully.

"Of course, I'm right," he stated firmly. "Now, let's have a little drink. I feel so uptight, I need something to relax."

"I don't think so..." she began.

"Oh come on, Mrs. Frampton. You do have a drink every once in a while don't you?" he asked, his gaze penetrating her.

He knows. He can smell the scotch I had before he came.

"Okay, what'll be?" he asked, automatically going for the bar and then stopping, "with your permission, of course."

"Go ahead, Mr. Marsdale," she said, her voice disinterested, lifeless, now all thoughts on her husband's adultery.

"Maybe we can get a little less formal. My name's Clay. May I call you Alyce? I hope if we are contemplating some plan of action we are at least going to be on a first name basis."

The young blonde wife was really shocked now. "You don't really mean that you're considering... what you suggested... intimated... before... ?"

"I don't see why not?" he leered. "What's sauce for the goose is..."

She was visibly disturbed. She had no intention of pretending or otherwise to be an adulteress.

Marsdale poured some stiff drinks and brought one over to her.

They sat and chatted while Alyce nervously sipped the glass of straight scotch, and before she knew it the glass was empty. Clay watched her closely.

He moved in quickly. "Another drink, my dear?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I rarely drink. Well, all right, but just a small one this time, it's still afternoon."

The scotch was beginning to make her feel a little reckless; additionally a small bolt of electrical energy had balled itself, racing through her body, along her nerve endings to unleash its force in a gigantic stab at her genitals. The pleasant, though unusual, sensations produced in her naked loins beneath her dress signaled that she was feeling the effects of the alcohol. She recognized the sensual sensations, but she was sure that she was in complete possession of her mind and senses.

While Clay was pouring her another drink, she tried not to let the image of her husband copulating with Nina Marsdale take shape. How awful! How could Eddie do this to me?

The more she thought about it the more she became aware of the insistent, seething, sensations in her, and thought for a fleeting second that it would serve Eddie right if she were to play at the same game. She soon pushed that thought from her mind. No! I just can't do it!

Clay returned to her, handing her the tall glass of scotch. She looked up at him, seeing him for the first time. She saw a stocky, powerfully built man with dark hair, heavy features, and she noted the satisfied leer on his face as he resumed the seat opposite her, lounging back in it to wait.

That's it! He's waiting like a cat waiting for a canary!

Suddenly Alyce had had enough.

"Mr. Marsdale, I'm not going to have any part of this," she said with determination.

Calmly he said. "It's already been decided. You and I are going to bed and I'm going to fuck you!"

"No!" she gasped. "I won't do it!"

"Let's put it another way then. If you don't then your husband will be out of a job."

"You wouldn't..."

Marsdale remained as cool as a cucumber. "Just finish your drink, Alyce. You're going to enjoy this," he said soothingly.

His words and the alcohol were beginning to have their effect on the confused wife. She slumped back on the cushions of the couch, sliding down dejectedly, her dress riding up to show the smoothness of her thighs. She didn't care now. She was trapped. Everything seemed hopeless. Let him ogle her legs if that's what he wanted.

Clay waited for a few moments before he reached for her, his hand going out to rest gently on her inner thigh, above the knee, feeling the silky, smooth warmth of her as his hand moved upward, slowly, massaging the creamy flesh until he had reached the hem of her dress; then her legs parted almost imperceptibly, involuntarily, and he moved on upward confidently, the fingers of his hand exploring her searchingly.

Now he was up to the pubic hair, unconfined, the blonde down of her softly curling crotch inciting him, inflaming him with hot passion.

Alyce sat, unmoving, except for the involuntary relaxing of her thigh muscles to allow him access to the juncture of her thighs, but she was a mass of rolling sensations. Her body had reacted to him against her will, the sensitive nerve endings, inflamed by the liquor, had a mind of their own. She dimly realized that whether or not she wanted it, her reasoning mind was no longer in command. Her body was betraying her. She couldn't help herself.