She and Mike had been married eight years. He had claimed it was the seven year itch, just a year late. Her heart had sunk into the pit of her stomach as he confessed the affair with the girl in the secretarial pool. All those years she had devoted to their union, shunning the numerous advances and passes in favor of the man she had chosen. And now, he was telling her that he had strayed.

"It wasn't about love," he pleaded lamely. "It was just the sex."

Theirs had become routine. Twice or three times a week, it was the same old thing. He needed more, he told her. Something different. Something special. Something unique.

Over the course of three long weeks they had skirted the issue, then hit it head on. They played bob and weave, ducked and collided. The issue at hand was seldom far from the front.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Forgive you?"

"Yes. But I see that isn't going to come easy," he replied.

"Years," she said. "It will take years to rebuild what you have destroyed."

"Then what?" he pleaded. "What will put us back together?"

"I don't know," she said in her superiority. "I just don't know yet."

He bided his time with her, waiting for her to formulate an answer. "You're angry," he offered.

"You're damned right," she flared. "I deserve to be angry."

"So you want some sort of vengeance," he tried.

"I want to make you pay for what you did to me ... to us!" she raged.

She pondered for several weeks. She even talked to Stacy about it. After all, they had been friends forever.

"I think you should," Stacy assured her. "Hell, it's not like your going to fall in love. Just find yourself a stud. Think about it. Imagine him pounding away at you. Wouldn't that feel great?"

She still wasn't convinced. "I guess so," she responded weakly.

"Hell, yes it would!" Stacy cried enthusiastically. "And you know it."

So she had set about finding her stud. That's how she thought of him. He'd be just meat to be used and discarded after this one time.

She found him quite by accident.

It was a warm Saturday afternoon. She was out running errands. At a stop-light in a residential neighborhood he rolled up beside her window. He was riding a ten-speed bike. Most guys looked like dorks in those biker helmets, she though. He didn't.

He was tanned, with a strong jaw and dark eyes. He looked up at the light as he eased his bike to the left. She rolled down her window.

"Keeps you in great shape," she said, softly.

He looked at her and smiled. "It's a lot of work, but, yes, it keeps me in shape."

"Isn't it dangerous?" she asked.

"Can be. Depends on where you're riding."

She reached into the console and pulled out one of her business cards. She handed it out the window.

"When you finish your ride, call me. The name's LeighAnn. I'd like to talk to you some more."

He took the card from her fingers and looked into her eyes. She smiled and pushed the button to close the window. His broad smile showed straight, white teeth. The light changed. She turned right. He went left.

"I did it, Stacy," she blurted into the telephone.

"What, already?" Stacy sounded alarmed.

"No, no. I mean, I found him," she replied.

"Oh."

"He's a bike rider. He looks like a movie star. I gave him my card and told him to call me."

"Really?" Stacy said cautiously. "Isn't that a little ... dangerous?"

"It could be. That's why I want you to go with me."

"Go where?"

"To meet him. I'm going to ask him to meet me somewhere so we can talk. I want you to go with me."

"Probably wise," Stacy said. "When?"

"Sometime tonight."

They met in a juice bar. When Stacy followed her to the table he looked perplexed.

"More than I had hoped for," he quipped.

"This is Stacy," LeighAnn said. "She's an observer."

"Indeed?" he said. "Never a participant?"

"Depends on the game," Stacy said.

"What is the game?" he asked.

"My husband has been unfaithful. I'm getting my vengeance," LeighAnn said.

"And I am to be the weapon of your vengeance," he said with finality.

"If you want."

"You're a beautiful woman, LeighAnn. I'd be a fool to say no."

"I have no intention of this becoming a long-term relationship," LeighAnn said.

"I understand."

"However," Stacy interjected, "I happen to be available."

"Are you really?" He smiled broadly.

"What you two do afterwards is none of my business," LeighAnn said. In fact, she thought she'd like the idea of having him nearby afterwards. Every time she looked at him, she'd have the satisfaction of knowing he'd taken her in vengeance for what Mike had done.

They agreed on a Tuesday evening in two weeks. Mike would be out of town on a business trip. Steve would come to the house at around seven. They would have sex. Then he would leave.

"How many times?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'll tell you when we're finished," LeighAnn said.

"All right. I'll be prepared to spend the night."

"Fine. But when I say it's over, you leave."

"Agreed," he said. "What about Stacy?"

"What about her?"

"Will she be there?"

"I don't know? Why should she be?"

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable knowing she was there?"

"I'll have to think about it."

In the end, she did ask Stacy to be there. "You don't have to do anything. Just be there for me if things get out of hand."

"Fine," Stacy said. "Whatever you need."

"You're a good friend, Stacy," she said.

He arrived on his bike. All he brought with him was a small backpack with the essentials; toothbrush, razor, deodorant. She showed him the way to the shower and handed him two large, fluffy towels. He smiled and said, "Thank you."

She met Stacy in the kitchen and poured them each a drink.

"You making one for him?" Stacy asked.

"I don't think he drinks," LeighAnn replied softly.

"How do you feel?" her friend wanted to know.

"I don't know, exactly. I've got butterflies. And, I'm a little pissed off, mostly at Mike for putting me in this position. I guess I could back out if I wanted to. But, that wouldn't give me my vengeance."

She paused, sipping her drink.

"I'm usually pretty loud," she murmured apologetically. "I'm sorry if it disturbs you."

"I'll do my best not to listen," Stacy said. They smiled at each other. Both of them knew she'd be hanging on every moan, whimper, squeal and shout.

"But, if I call for you, you'll come running, won't you?" LeighAnn asked.

"Scouts honor," Stacy answered.

They stood at the bottom of the stairs. LeighAnn looked at Stacy and smiled wanly.

"Look," Stacy said, "go up there and have the time of your life. You getting laid, that's all. And, the best thing about it is you've got Mike's permission. Guilt free sex, hon. Enjoy it. Have a ball!"

"I've been wet ever since he walked in. My body says to go for it," LeighAnn said.

"Then let go and have fun," Stacy urged. "It's probably your one and only chance."

LeighAnn impulsively kissed her on the cheek. "You're right. I'm off to get laid by a terrific looking stud. I am going to have fun," she concluded definitively, then stepped purposefully up the stairs.

Stacy admired her as she climbed. Her tight, white middy tube set off her tanned midriff. Her white short-shorts clung to her, showing off her long, shapely legs. Stacy curled in a corner of the long, softly-cushioned sofa, she picked up a magazine and idly flicked through it, imagining the scene in her friend's bedroom.

He was toweling his hair when she walked into the bedroom and kicked off her slip-ons. Soon, she thought, she'd be as naked as he was, under the weight of his body. And that body was fine, she thought, looking him over appreciatively. She hadn't done that since high school.

She shocked herself with her own frankness. "All those hours of bike-riding have paid off," she told him. "Your body looks great."

"Thanks," he said. "You have any preferences on how we do this?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded. She slipped her top over her head exposing her breasts. "Start here," she told him holding up her left breast.

She sucked in a sharp breath when his lips locked around her nipple. She could feel his teeth and tongue teasing it, sending spasms like little electric shocks through her. Her hands cupped the back of his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist pulling her to him. She moaned softly as the warmth of those shocks arrived down there. She could feel the flow of her secretions beginning again.

While he sucked, nibbled and teased her nipples, shifting from the left to the right, then back again, her hands found the button to her shorts. She deftly released them and let them slide down her thighs.

She pulled away from him gently.

"Let's turn back the bed," she said, somewhat breathlessly, noting his state of arousal. "I don't want to get come stains on the comforter."

"How far?" he asked, going to the opposite side of the bed from her.

"All the way. We're not going to need them," she answered.

They stripped the comforter and sheet from the bed, leaving them in a rolled up pile near the foot. She walked back to him and cupped her hand under his erection.

"You want me to use a condom?" he asked.

"Not unless you think we need to," she said. "Do we?"

"Clean bill of health here," he answered. "You?"

"The same.

"Missionary style for the first time," she instructed. "I want to be able to tell the son-of-a-bitch I'm married to I spread my legs for you voluntarily."

"Whatever you say," he replied.

She lay on the bed and motioned for him to join her. He crawled up from the bottom to where her knees were cocked upright and together. He gently kissed each of her knees and she spread them for him. When he began to kiss her thighs she took his chin in her hand and lifted it.

"Not this time," she said. "I just want you to fuck me."

He smiled and eased his way up her body, positioning himself. She took hold of his manhood and guided him toward her, sliding it up and down her wet slit. She placed it at her opening and murmured, "There." He slid slowly inside her, his eyes focused intently on her face.

Downstairs, Stacy could hear nothing but the gentle ticking of the mantel clock. She had put aside her magazine and was admiring the decor of her friend's home. The narrow recessed shelves on either side of the fireplace was a nice touch. A few books on several shelves. Another held a small china planter with a small dangling plant of some kind. Stacy's knowledge of household plants was sadly truncated, she admitted. One of the shelves held a small photograph taken at Mike and LeighAnn's wedding. Mike was beaming. LeighAnn was fully gorgeous in her wedding dress. Stacy thought it was the sexiest wedding dress she'd ever seen. There was an oval cut-out in the bodice which allowed LeighAnn's cleavage to show through.

They had plenty to drink at the reception and danced until they were virtually exhausted. Stacy smiled as she remembered taking the young groomsman into her bed that night. She was convinced now that he had been a virgin. Their first joining had been awkward and rushed. He spent himself after too few strokes within her. But, then, as the night went on, she had showed him the joys of oral sex, given and received. As dawn broke the following day, she remembered, they had joined in a glorious moment of shared ecstasy. Then he had left to go back to Indiana or Iowa, or wherever the fuck he was from and she'd never heard from him again. But, oh, that wonderful moment! That was hers to keep forever.

She became aware of a sound, something almost feral coming down the stairs. She looked to see if one of the family pets had gone rabid when she realized the sound was of her friend in the throes of her passion. She cocked her head a bit to listen.

The sound was guttural, really. It was slightly wrapped around an "oh," but quavered as it tumbled down the stairs.

Stacy lifted herself off the sofa and went to the first landing, three steps off the floor. She could hear better there. LeighAnn's moan increased in volume and length. Stacy imagined the picture in the bedroom; LeighAnn under Steve's weight, feeling him thrust into her. In her mind she watched as his member thrust in and out of her, glistening with her lubricant. Stacy felt herself moistening. She licked her lips, unconsciously; her breathing had made them dry. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound, a vague slapping almost overwhelmed by her friend's cries of passion. Then came the first words she could make out.