Chapter 3: An Assumption of Infidelity

Annual conferences are largely the same type of event regardless of the group or topic in question. There were the endless lectures with their mildly earth-shattering crisis like missing slides or no sound for the video feed. There were the huge, bland but not offensive breakfast, lunch and dinner buffets. There were the mind-numbingly dull planned socials where people you never want to meet again jockeyed for professional contacts or personal conquests or both. All and all, this year's had been a roaring success as these thing go.

Zahra decided this as she waved the hotel staff into the empty conference room. The last attendees had moved down to the ballroom for the finally event and in the next few minutes she planned to join them. But for the moment, the hallway was empty and quiet. Zahra sank wearily on a couch and congratulated herself on staying on her feet these last three day. And without threatening to kill anyone.

"Now that's an interesting picture." A strong masculine voice sent shivers down her spine. She knew who it belonged to. She opened her eyes just enough to see Karl looking at her mildly. Karl did every thing mildly — a calm good-natured exterior that made her wilt every time he turned that charming smile on her.

"Let me die here in peace." She groaned.

"Your hair's a mess, your skirt's hiked up, and your shirt's half open." He observed. "You look like a victim or an invitation."

She sat up immediately. The frank sexual comment made her run hot and cold at once. She was still not comfortable with the idea that her husband wanted her to sleep with her co-worker — despite the constant desires the man awoke in her.

She found the nearest bathroom and adjusted her appearance. She tried to tell herself that Karl had not just looked up her skirt and leered at her breasts. The very idea made her body tingle. Unbidden, the memory of his hands stroking her body can to her. His fingers, strong and sure, diddling her ... She swallowed hard and tried to control her breathing. Think of Rick, she told herself, think of the loving husband of many years.

Who like to bang her deep and hard while she talked about fucking other men. Rick who kept calling to ask what the latest event in her affair with Karl was.

A kiss. Stolen in the elevator, lasting five floors and leaving her breathless. Remembering it made her twitch. She took a deep breath. Tonight was the last night. Tomorrow, they caught a flight home and life would surly return to normal. These fantasies of infidelity would most assuredly stop.

Karl was waiting outside the ladies room. "Better?" she asked with a self-conscience gesture.

"Better."

They walked together to the ballroom where roughly 1,500 conference participants mingled, drank and ignored the music provided by the hotel DJ. Karl and Zahra walk through making sure everyone was enjoying themselves. After an hour or so, Karl got a call and left the room a short while later he returned, grinning.

"What?"

"I just knew we could not get out of here without one last crisis."

"Now what?" Zahra had had the same feeling.

"Some kind of technical glitch. Come on." He led her out a side door of the room to a hallway lined with electrical cords and to a small, dark phone closet. It was larger than the plane bathroom, she noticed, but hardly large enough to have passionate sex. Not like, say the queen-size bed in her room upstairs. She shook her head to clear the distracting thoughts away. "Are you ok?" Karl asked.

"Too much wine, I think." She answered.

"Ok, I'll go upstairs." He picked up a pair of headphones. "This has a mike built in so I'll hear you just fine. Just watch these four lights and tell me when they go on, ok?" He paused at the door. "I'm going to turn off the lights in here so you can see them better. Don't move around too much, I wouldn't want to take you home injured." He flipped off the lights as she put on the headset leaving her in near pitch-blackness and silence. Over the set, she could hear distant sounds of an open microphone somewhere else.

Then the loud clatter as someone picked up the mike. "Hello, my lovely little whore."

She almost fell over. "Rick?"

"Have you been naughty today, my sweet?"

"No."

"Awwww." His voice was warm in her ear. And she shivered again. "Are you wet?"

"What?" her voice had a tremor. Rick rarely asked such questions outside their bedroom.

"Reach under that skirt I know you're wearing and tell me if you're wet." She hesitated and he must have guessed. "Do it." He coaxed.

The room was pitch-black apart from the panel of soft lights. Karl must have rigged a phone to the system. Zahra couldn't help smiling at the compromising position she was putting herself in as she reached under her skirt and into her panties. "Very wet, sweetheart." Unexpectedly so.

"That because of me or him?"

"Uh," she found her fingers still stroking the pool between her legs. "Both, sweetheart."

"Does my loving slut want to be done by two guys?" A small gasp erupted from Zahra as a pair of hands touched her legs and slid up under her skirt. "Oww. What was that, sweetie?"

"Someone's in here with me." Zahra gasped. Karl, she thought. But she couldn't push away the strange hands that were caressing her ass and sliding down her panties.

"What's he doing?"

"He's pulling down my panties." She gasped again. "He's pushing his fingers into my slit."

"You like it, don't you?" Rick accused.

"Oh, baby!" Zahra tried to protest but she could barely speak, "I love you, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but you like having his fingers up your cunt, don't you? Say it. Tell me the truth."

"I do. I do." She panted. "Rick, baby, I wish you were here. He's fingers are good but your cock is better."

"You want my cock?"

"Yes, baby." She moaned.

"What about your lover? Aren't you supposed to have another cock in infidelity?"

"I don't think — I don't think there are rules." It was becoming hard to think. Hard to talk. "There's no theory of cheating."

"Well, then, let's make one." She groaned. Rick was asking her to think while an unknown man finger fucked her relentlessly. "The central question to be proved would be 'can a whore wife be tempted into infidelity?'" She groaned again, ashamed but nearing orgasm. "What, sweetheart, don't you like that? Maybe it's too small. Maybe he should shove something bigger up that cunt of yours."