Chapter 2

That Friday early morning saw Janet Simpson driving along the highway to the university. She drove at the speed limit, almost mechanically. She was calm and composed, resigned to the information she was to receive and resigned to the end of her marriage. She had undergone months of angst and emotional turmoil. She had nothing left, just an emptiness, a void where there had been love and trust. Even the anger and bitterness had been leeched from her. She wondered what her life was going to be like, alone and single.

She arrived at her hotel, checked in and then proceeded to the campus. She went through the motions, setting up for the few interviews they would have later in the afternoon. She tried to keep her mind busy, not thinking of what Phil had to show her, but knowing what the result would be.

Later that day Phil arrived and upon seeing Janet, he brusquely informed her that they weren't to mention anything about George, that he would talk to her after dinner. Janet saw that he was obviously very upset and was puzzled. It seemed that he had heard news that upset him above and beyond George's infidelity. She sighed and knew that she would have to wait.

Dinner that evening at the hotel with Phil was an almost silent event. Phil seemed preoccupied and drank more of the wine he had ordered than was usual for him. He insisted that she join him, pouring a glass for her, but she just sipped the one glass, unwilling to get tipsy. She felt that she was going to need all of her reasoning faculties that evening.

"Phil, enough," insisted Janet. "You obviously have things to say to me. Things that are upsetting you. We need to talk and we need to do that now."

Phil took a deep breath and replied, "Yeah, you're right, Jan. It's time, I guess. Come up to my room with me and I'll show you what I have." He rose and, with slumping shoulders, led her from the dining room.

Entering his room, Phil sat her down in the one chair and then paced up and down. "Jan," he turned to face her. "I'm obviously very upset, but it's not just at your anguish. It looks like I'm in the same position."

With that, he dumped a dozen photographs in Janet's lap. She picked them up and gasped, tears coming to her eyes. There before her, were pictures of George and Marge locked in sexual embraces. She quickly averted her eyes. The scenes before her were like acid to her soul. In a fraction of a second she had the proof that she needed, but desperately did not want.

"But Marge?" she cried. "One of my best friends. Why Marge?" she whimpered. Looking up at Phil, she saw him standing there, head down, a look of total defeat on his features. She suddenly realized what he was feeling and her heart went out to him.

She arose quickly and went to him, holding him in her arms. "Oh, my God, Phil. This must be devastating for you, finding out so suddenly and without any warning." She knew what he must be feeling and her heart ached for him.

Her returned her close embrace, his face in her hair, inhaling her flagrance. It was all coming together now, all of the months of planning were now going to pay off.

He leaned back, still holding her closely. There were tears in his eyes as he moved his lips to hers and kissed her gently. Janet seemed to melt, reveling in his embrace, missing the masculine odor and strong arms of a man.

"It's been so long, so long," she whispered. Phil nibbled at her neck and then returned to her lips, kissing her passionately. Janet returned the kiss as she felt his tongue begin to explore her open mouth. His hand moved to her breast and fondled the nipple which was now straining against her bra. She moaned and pressed closer to him. She felt him erect and straining against her belly and ground herself into him.

"Oh, Jannie. I really need you," breathed Phil into her ear. The sudden endearment caused Janet to catch her breath and awake from the stupor which had enveloped her. 'Jannie' was what George used to call her when they made love. She awoke to what was happening, what she was about to do and put her palms on Phil's chest. She pushed him gently.

Phil had felt her tense and stiffen, instinctively he knew that the mood was broken and the seduction wasn't going to happen. Rage infused him and he trembled with a burning anger. All those months wasted, all for nothing. "NO," he screamed silently. "I'll kill her first." He fought to regain control, to dampen his ire. " If not plan A, then plan B would have to do," he thought desperately.

"I'm truly sorry, Phil. I just can't. I hope that you understand," murmured Janet.

Phil's rigidity loosened as he assumed a new persona. "I do understand, Janet. I'm truly sorry that I lost control. I assure you that it won't happen again. Please, forgive me?" he pleaded.

Janet stroked his cheek fondly. "Of course, Phil. This is a shock for both of us. We both have to consider what we are going to have to do. I suspect though that my marriage is truly over," she said with a catch in her throat.

Phil Brock turned and filled two glasses with scotch from the room mini bar. Turning back to Janet, he said, "Well, at least we can have a drink and perhaps toast our new status. You can at least have a drink with me, Jan, can't you, before you go?"

"Of course, Phil, but just one and then I'd better leave. It is getting late and I have some decisions to make."

She resumed her seat and watched Phil as he made himself comfortable on the bed. They sipped the smooth whiskey and wondered what Monday would bring. It wasn't too much later that the glass slipped from Janet's fingers and fell to the floor. Phil watched her go under with satisfaction. The drug always worked, she would be out for hours.

He knelt before her and laughed softly. "One way or another, sweetie, you're going to get fucked and this won't be a one shot deal. I'm going be fucking you for a long time to come. Who knows, you may eventually get to love it," he snickered.

Slowly he unbuttoned her blouse, button by button until it gaped open. He moved it from her shoulders and dropped it to the floor. Moving his hand to the button on her skirt he swiftly opened it and pulled the zipper down. With some effort he raised her hips and maneuvered her skirt down and off.

He then leaned back and gazed at her. She had slumped down a bit in the chair, her head back, lips slightly open. Her full breasts strained in the confines of her bra. His gaze slipped lower and saw that she was wearing sensible, pale blue panties, but he could see the shadow of her pubic hair. Moistening his lips, which had become dry, he reached behind her and unclasped her bra. He slowly, very slowly moved the back strap of the bra forward and then removed the garment from her body.

His breath caught in his throat as he viewed those breasts. Full and heavy, they personified womanhood. The areolas were pale and the nipples a darker pink. With trembling hands he reached out and gently passed his palms over those orbs, feeling her nipples harden slightly. He lowered his head and took a nipple in his mouth, suckling softly. He then moved to the other nipple and did the same. Phil Brock spent the next few minutes on Janet Simpson's mammaries, luxuriating in their softness.

Suddenly he straightened. "Enough of that," he muttered. "There are other delights to be sampled tonight."

He then, with some effort, picked her up and transported her to the bed. Again he stood back and just gazed at her supine form. Gently he placed his fingers at the top of her panties and slowly, very slowly lowered them to her hips, fascinated by the skin of her smooth belly. Lower, until her pubic hair was exposed and lower still until they were at her ankles. He swiftly then pulled them from her and threw them to the floor where the rest of her clothing were piled.

He opened her thighs and stared intently at her groin. Her light brown pubic hair was trimmed into what appeared to be a perfect upside down triangle, bisected by a pair of moist outer lips.

"Of course," he thought. "Her bush would be perfect, not a jungle like Marge's." Opening those lips with his fingers he stared at the vaginal opening and then at the tiny bud that was her clitoris, now hidden by it's hood. He gently massaged that bud and was gratified to see it peek from it's hiding place.

He giggled, "come out, come out, wherever you are," he singsonged. He then moistened his finger with saliva and inserted it into her vagina.

"Come on Janet, it's only a finger now, soon you'll be feeling something a lot thicker."

He suddenly felt a bit light headed. "Goddamn, I had too much to drink. Gotta take it easy. Don't wanna to get sick now."

He stood and divested himself of his clothing. Naked, he stood over her unconscious form and slowly stroked his erection. "See Janet, it's all for you. What I planned for months is going to happen now. Awwww, don't worry sweetie, you're gonna love it," he slurred.

Suddenly, he remembered the camera. Picking it up, he commenced taking the pictures he would later need, the flash illuminating the room periodically. Finished with that, he then moved to Janet on the bed.

He crouched above her and allowed his phallus to rub over the lips of her pussy. Back and forth he massaged his cock until, suddenly, without warning, he felt his control vanish. With a muttered curse, he raised himself up and grasping his cock, he ejaculated over her pubic hair and lower belly.

He then belched, belched again and then slowly collapsed next to Janet on the bed. His eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out.

Dawn's first light was slipping through the drapes when Janet opened her eyes. Her head was throbbing and she felt nausea pervade her. A powerful need to pee overcame her and she staggered from the bed and into the bathroom. As she sat on the toilet she saw that her groin and belly were covered with what appeared to be dried semen.

Wiping herself, she stood shakily and looked back into the room seeing Phil Brock sprawled naked on the bed. She then turned and vomited into the toilet bowl. Her thoughts weren't coherent, she couldn't recall what had happened. " Have I actually screwed Phil Brock?" she asked herself incredulously.

She quickly washed herself and, gathering her clothing from the floor, she dressed. As she started to leave, she saw the envelope with the photos on the table. Scooping it up, she left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Hurrying to her room, she quickly stripped and jumped into the shower. She scrubbed herself vigorously, trying to wash away the imagined stench of her infidelity. Her thoughts were confused, jumbled. It was difficult for her to think coherently, to recall the events of the previous night. She just couldn't believe that she had actually screwed Phi.

First of all she didn't feel that she had had intercourse. She always felt the aftereffects of the physical act in her genitals, the morning after. There was no such sensation this morning. But she had quite a lot of semen on her. It was obviously from Phil. She shook her head in confusion.

Second, she remembered that while they had kissed, she had come to her senses and stopped. She had apologized to Phil and told him that she couldn't. What had happened after that?

She thought back, tried to remember. "A drink," she remembered. "We stopped kissing and had a drink. I remember that, but everything after is a blank. What happened after the drink? Did we both get wasted? Did I get that drunk? Damn, I just don't remember." Another thought entered her mind and she blanched. "Oh, my God. How am I going to face George. I just did what I have been accusing him of doing. But he has been cheating for who knows how long, and I now have the proof," she thought as she realized that she now has the photos. "And I really don't think that I actually had intercourse - at least I'm pretty sure that I haven't."

"Ohhhh," she moaned as she remembered the photos. "Marge, I can't believe it was Marge, one of my closest friends. Why would she do that? Oh, Phil, poor Phil. George and his wife. Oh, my God, what did I do with Phil last night. I just can't face him today, I just can't."

Her mind a mass of confusion and bewilderment, Janet quickly dried off, dressed, packed and rushed from the hotel. Reaching her car, she flung her bag into the back seat and then threw herself behind the wheel and started for home.

Driving along the highway, she again attempted to make some sense of what was and had been happening to her. "Maybe George is right, maybe I really do need a psychiatrist," she thought. "But he has been cheating, I knew it then and now I have the horrid proof. He's been cheating with one of my best friends. How can this be possible? Oh, my God, what's happening to me?" she sobbed as she drove

"One thing I do know," Janet said aloud to herself. "When I get home George and I are going to sit down and have this out. I absolutely will not sit by and allow this to continue. I don't know how long this has been going on, but I am going to tell George that we are through. He wouldn't be doing this if he really loved me. Our marriage is obviously over." As she said these words, tears flowed down her cheeks.

George Simpson was sitting with the newspaper resting in his lap. He found that he just couldn't concentrate on the words. He recognized the dilemma he faced and he was resigned to the probable outcome. That his marriage was over was obvious, but he still hated that conclusion. He knew that he loved Janet, not the Janet of the previous few months, but the Janet that he had married and had grown older with. What had happened to that woman?

Suddenly, the front door burst open and his wife entered, a flushed and almost manic look on her face. "George," she blurted out, "We're going to have this out now, right now. Now is the time for confessions and decisions." With that said, she seated herself before him and stared at him intently.

George looked at her cooly. Heaving a sigh, he shifted in his chair and replied, "Good idea, Jan. I think that would be a good idea. What would you like to confess?"

Janet looked at him, her mouth agape. "Me? Me? Me confess??? You're out of your mind, it's you that needs to confess. You! You!" her voice rose.

"Ok, Jan, to what should I confess?" George's voice was quiet and controlled. He refused to let this degenerate into a screaming match. It appeared that this little conversation was going to be the denouement that he knew was coming. At the least it would be a reasonably calm one.

Janet collected herself. She would not lose control. She reached into her purse and threw the envelope of photographs at George. "Guess what, George? You don't have to confess to anything. The proof of your adultery is lying now in your lap, no pun intended," she replied, her voice tight with tension...

George wearily opened the envelope and extracted the photographs. His jaw literally dropped as he saw what they portrayed. A look of utter astonishment appeared on his face. He tried to speak and found that he couldn't even form the words that he was searching for.

Janet was a bit taken aback. She looked at George, puzzled and more than surprised at his expression. She saw no guilt or shame or embarrassment - only total shock and surprise. She didn't know what to make of this. He was supposed to act guilty and remorseful, not stupefied.