Honestly Unfaithful: #1 Page 3

  It has been too long for both of us. Denise starts to grab my cock and slowly rub her hands down it and pull it just slightly as I continue to kiss and nibble her neck from her chin to her shoulders. She begins to lean forward and places her hands on the bench with her right foot up on the built-in bench by her right hand.

  She hasn't done anything like this since we were newlyweds. I instantly get more turned on, sliding myself into her from behind, her ass cheeks pressed dead to my hips. Her body slants and turns so she can see me, her hand reaching back to grab my hips and touch my chest as I slowly begin to slide in and out. I notice her biting her lips, as if it slightly hurts but in the best of ways. The water beats on my back, the steam intensifying as we get hotter.

  The glass fogs so heavily it’s hard to tell where the heat is coming from. “Harder, Marshall,” Denise begins to whisper out, still biting her lips, lightly looking at me. “Just a little faster, and little harder, baby.”

  I start picking up my pace as I see her bounce with each thrust. Her hair now copies the movement of each thrust as well. Her ass, with just enough cushion, bounces off my hips each time I pound inside of her, my hands gripping tightly around her waist as if I am trying to hold on for dear life or to keep her from getting away from me.

  Denise's body begins to quiver, as I reach around, slowly rubbing her clit. She leans back, her body against mine, her back being fully supported by my chest. She moves with me in perfect rhythm as we maintain our position with both of us fully standing up. She begins to get wetter and wetter. I feel myself about to burst as my wife grabs my hand and starts to shake when she begins to climax. Shortly after, I follow her into oblivion. I don't pull out, needing to cum inside of her.

  I stand there, still inside of her for a minute, resting, collecting myself. I begin to kiss around her shoulder, nuzzling her warm body as the water is cascading over both of us.

  “What was that?” Denise asks, out of breath.

  “I honestly don't know, but it was good, right?” It was perfect, I thought.

  “It was definitely passionate,” she replies. “What came over you?”

  “I don't know, I just got turned on when I watched you undress and I reacted.”

  “Oh!”

  Lying in bed later, I feel a nervous chill slither down my spine thinking about what could've possible come over me to cause the passion that had been lost.

  “Good night, sweet dreams,” I tell Denise.

  “Mmhmm good night to you too, you naughty man,” my wife replies, still in character with her soft sexy voice.

  What happened?

  “See you tomorrow, Dr. Jackson, can't wait.” I was a complete and utter fool.

  I have no idea what I was thinking saying that and winking at Dr. Jackson—he's married, for fuck’s sake, but I can't help feeling this pull between him and me.

  I have to admit, he’s very attractive. Tall, muscular, short brown hair and smooth chocolate brown eyes.

  He’s also professional and all business during the internship. He hasn't taken any lengths to seek me out, barely speaking to me unless I have a question or he's giving orders on what needs to be done. Dr. Jackson hasn’t given any indication that he's affected by my presence at all. Which is why I'm so confused as to why I’m this attracted to him. Since my interview with him, I can't get him out of my head.

  My cell phone rings and an unknown number shows across the screen. Normally, I wouldn't answer it, in case my crazy ex-boyfriend has discovered my new number by now, but then I remember I’ve moved across the country and I’ve given my digits out for a few different reasons.

  “Hello?”

  “Margaret?” an unfamiliar male voice asks.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Sam from The Coop, you know the bar you applied to work at?”

  “I remember.” Please be calling because you want to give me hours, my bank account is dwindling.

  “I wanted to know if you could come in tonight for a few hours. I know you mentioned you had not been a bartender before, but I can teach you some of the popular drinks. We’ve got a full house and I could sure use the help.”

  “What time do you need me?”

  “As soon as possible, please.”

  “All right, I’m just going to change and I’ll be there.”

  “You're a lifesaver, Maggie, see you soon.”

  “See ya soon,” I say before hanging up.

  ***

  “It's crazy in here. Is it always like this?” I ask Sam as he directs me to toss my purse in a locker.

  “Most nights it gets pretty busy, three call-ins and we’re in a hole. Thanks for coming in.”

  “Not a problem at all, I could use the money. You need someone, if I can I’ll be here.”

  “Keep your phone on then.” He smiles. “I’m just going to teach you the most basic popular drinks. I’ll make all the others but when we get orders for these, it'll be your job. Okay?”

  “Teach away.”

  What was I thinking? Six long and arduous hours of making rum and Cokes, Jager bombs, and screwdrivers non-stop and I’m left questioning my decision to beg for a job in a bar. Sam was a gracious teacher with lots of patience. I didn't mess up often, and once I’d made a dozen of the drinks, I had them down pat. It was the running back and forth from one end of the bar to the other all night long that did me in.

  Or maybe it was the two college guys who wouldn't stop flirting with me, even when I made it clear that I wasn't interested. Even if I had been interested in finding a one-night stand or a boyfriend, they wouldn't have caught my eye. They weren't my type.

  For some reason the, “I don't know how to wash my own laundry so I walk around wearing stained shirts all day, even when I go out looking to pick up chicks” look doesn't appeal to me and even if it did, I'm sure the “I pick up the ladies with overused pick-up lines and become persistent even when she says she's not interested” attitude wouldn't attract me to them. Not in a thousand years.

  Luckily, Sam had noticed my discomfort and took over serving them. I’m not sure if he had overheard what they’d said to me, or maybe they complained to him, but shortly after, they left.

  “So, what did you think?” Sam asks, interrupting my thoughts while I wipe the bar counter down. We closed an hour ago and only have a couple things left to clean before leaving and locking the doors.

  “I think my feet hurt.” I laugh.

  “You’ll get used to it, I promise.”

  “Hopefully,” I reply while wiping the last section of the counter down. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Sam begin to fidget. He rocks from his heel to his toe, back and forth, swaying while burying his fisted hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

  He's nervous.

  “Just spit it out,” I blurt.

  “I just wanted to make sure you're okay,” he confesses.

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah, with earlier. I just didn't know how to bring it up but I wanted to make sure you were all right before ya left. I know those guys were pretty foul and I could see that you were distressed serving them.”

  “I guess I’ll probably have to get used to people like that though, right? I mean, this is a bar that serves alcohol and drunk people generally can't hold their tongue. It’s those guys tonight, maybe mean girls the next. I’ve just got to build some thicker skin. Scare them away.”

  “It's not like I want people to act that way, but it kind of comes with the job. I won't stand for any of my employees being mistreated or made to feel uncomfortable, though. I just wanted to make sure you knew that you can always come to me. I won't allow someone to treat you that way.”

  “I think I like you, Sam.” My boss, the first person in this area to treat me like a human. To treat me as a person with organs and emotions and stuff.

  “Don't get used to it, I’m still your employer.” He laughs. “Get out of here. Go home, put those feet up, and get some rest.”

  “Will do, call me if
you need me.”

  I head into the small break room located through an entrance that's behind the bar to grab my purse from the locker I’d put it in. “Thanks for tonight, Sam,” I call out as I leave.

  “Anytime, Mags.”

  The Coop isn't far from my dorm room, only taking a few minutes at this time of night because traffic is almost non-existent. I lock my door behind me and toss my purse on the small desk that's been provided. My dorm room is pretty much the same as any other, I imagine. All rooms are equipped with a single bed that's about as comfortable as sleeping on a rock; a small writing desk that fits my laptop and just enough room for a notebook for class work. The dresser sits alongside the desk at the foot of my bed. There are two doors—one leads into my small bathroom that consists of the most basic of necessities. The closet fits all of what I brought with me, leaving room for more.

  I haven’t decorated because I brought almost nothing with me. When I left, I wasn't thinking about what I wanted to grab, I was thinking about what I needed to grab.

  Quickly.

  Everything that I left can stay where it is. After everything that I experienced with Jake I realized life isn't about what you wear, what you have, or who you're with.

  Life is about who you are.

  I am not a victim.

  I am not weak.

  I am not broken.

  I am me.

  Strong.

  Resilient.

  Proud.

  Whole.

  I will not allow anyone to take away who I am.

  I’ll never be the same person again. There's only before Jake and after Jake.

  After Jake is a much better person.

  The epiphany within myself consumes me. Knowing—no, believing that I have and will overcome this. Starting a new life away from everyone I love is and will be terrifying, but it’s something I need to do for myself.

  I’m going to live in the now.

  I’m going to go after what I want with determination.

  It's early morning, the sun has just started to peek above the horizon. Looking out my window I see a ray of various colors over a lush, green tree top, orange to soft red hues, a bright yellow sun as if someone had painted the most beautiful sunrise in existence. It's beautiful. My thoughts have just dwindled away with this view. As I sip my morning coffee—almost completely black, a small hint of cream and two sugars—I overhear Denise outside my study door.

  After last night, I actually had the best night’s sleep that I’ve had in such a long time I can't believe it. I can feel the smirk on my face, just having mild playbacks in my head of how last night happened. It’s like we existed in a different stratosphere. Completely out of this world, in another worldly sense.

  I hear Denise coming; she normally never comes to my study unless it's time to eat. She knows I don't like being disturbed in my study, but I can hear her footsteps in the crackling of the wooden floors. As the noise comes closer, I know that her presence is just outside my door. Ironically, I don't mind her coming to me this morning—I feel at complete peace today.

  “Good morning, M.J.,” Denise greets me after she opens the study door.

  It's a nickname she gave me in college, associated with me playing basketball. I reply with my nickname for her, “Good morning, Ne Ne.”

  I give her a soft smile. She stands in the doorway with hair down over her shoulders and my button-up shirt I wore the night I was drafted. It soon became her favorite sleep shirt.

  “The kids are out cold still. They haven't slept in like this in a while,” she says.

  Yeah, they definitely needed some rest.

  “Well, that's good, I know Ryan has had a rough start to this week with getting back into the routine of going to school.”

  Denise starts to make her way into the office, sitting in front of me on top of my dark mahogany desk she got me for our anniversary. “So what got into you last night? You surprised me. I honestly haven't been able to process it. I'm not complaining, I'm just so … Marshall, my heart hasn't stopped racing this morning.” She stares at me and smiles, placing my hand on her heart. “Baby, my body is still trembling, you haven't touched me like that in so long.”

  I glance back at the view feeling even more clarity as the rays now filter through the window lighting the room with a fluorescent orange glow. It surrounds Denise as if she were transcendent. I smile at her seeing her so happy. It’s doing something to me. I begin to look at her with a witty grin and touch her knee. “What is that look, Dr. Jackson? I know that look,” she accuses me, and rightfully so.

  “Mrs. Jackson, I know you aren't wearing any panties this morning and you happen to be sitting on my favorite desk. Where I only do work.”

  She sees where I'm going with this. “Oh, are you planning on doing work this morning? You know you haven't worked all night and the next morning in a long time, you think you’re still young enough to put in the hours?”

  With a mischievous smirk, I start to slide my hand up her leg. She places her foot on my chest. My fingers trace their way softly up her leg to her thighs, finally they slide softly inside. She's so warm and wet. Her fingers go through my hair guiding my head to her.

  I begin to please Denise with soft kisses and licks in the most abrupt way. Holding nothing back, I feel the years turn back, getting younger with each stroke of her hand through my hair. Her head tilts all the way back now, both hands on my head and her feet on each side of my chair. She removes my glasses as I look up to her.

  She bites the ends of them, teasing me. The way we seem to feed off each other has been mesmerizing and toxic like the last ten years have been perfect bliss. I finally come up and unbutton my shirt for her; she pushes my cardigan over my shoulders and grabs my ass to pull me in.

  The sunning hitting my back, putting a glow through the entire room as if we were lighted for an audience but no one was present. I slowly push inside her warm, soft body. I missed the feel of her wrapped around me. I craved this. I felt my climax beginning.

  “You better not,” she whispers in my ear.

  I slow my rhythm down, matching hers in tandem as she pulls herself to me as I retract. Our hips in perfect synchronization. Heat leaving imprints on my desk, her breasts pressed firm to mine. My hands on her sides and ribs gripping tight. Her hands tracing my abs and chest.

  “Bend me over, M.J.”

  I flip her around in one quick motion. Denise is being so much naughtier than I ever remember. “Come on, old man,” she teases me.

  I grip her tightly and began to go harder. She bounces with every thrust. I moan as I get closer to climax, and I release so quickly and so hard I feels like I am twenty years old again.

  “I guess you do still have it in you.”

  “No, it's in you now,” I reply with dirty humor.

  She laughs out loud as she lies on the desk as if it were a bed, curled up like a cat, watching me sit back in my study chair, the sun fully over the trees now.

  “I don't know what's come over you or us lately, but I have to admit, Marshall, I love it, I was beginning to worry.”

  “I was …” The ringing of my cell phone interrupts my response. “Hold that thought; I have to take this.”

  “Dr. Marshall, speaking.”

  Denise’s face tilts and she is eyeing me warily, but soon thereafter, the wariness dissolves and all that I am left to see is her eyes quickly falling to sadness.

  “Dr. Jackson, this is Maggie. I am having trouble solving the lab variances we found in the lab Friday. Could you come here and show me what I'm doing wrong?” I hear on the other end of the line.

  “You’re in the lab today? Why?” I ask her instead of answering her questions. She wasn’t scheduled to be there—no one was supposed to be there today.

  “I know you gave me this internship because you needed another person in the lab, and I needed the credits. Even so, I’m working hard to prove to you that I was worth taking that chance on. I’m going to work hard to earn my
credits. I’m not here for some free ride.”

  “Look, Maggie, I appreciate the gesture, but now isn't the time, I am at home with my family. It’s a weekend. We can pick this back up on Monday, okay? Go home and rest, or whatever college students do and we can solve it after the weekend.”

  Denise looks at me with wide eyes when I end the call.

  She’s pissed.

  “She has your number? Your student, or intern whatever the hell she is, has your cell phone number? Why in the fuck does she have your number? This is crossing the line, Marshall.”

  “Denise, she has to have my number, it's the easiest way to keep updated on things in the lab and in case any of my students or interns need to reach me. You know that the only time I'm in my office is when I have meetings, or interviews. I’m generally in the lab, classroom, or home.”

  Denise looks down with guilt all over her face. “I know, Marshall. I’m not trying to be accusatory, but the first time someone calls you while you’re home—it’s a female. A college woman, and she’s interning for you. I don’t think you would ever cheat on me, but with the way our relationship has been going for the last few years, I feel like it could be a possibility. Beyond that, she chose to call in the middle of our moment, a moment that doesn’t happen every day for us.”

  “I'm sorry,” I say, pleading with her to forgive the interrupting phone call. Wanting to restart our conversation that we were having before Maggie called. I want the tender moment we were having, to come back. I need her. I need to wipe the hurt away from Denise’s eyes, so I reach out to her grab her hand before she turns.

  Instead, Denise pretends she doesn’t hear my apology or see my pleading hands trying to reach out for her. Ignoring me, she begins to walk away and calls out, “I’m going to wake the boys up. The three of us are going to the zoo today. You can … do whatever you want, I guess.”

  “Denise,” I call out, wishing that I could turn the clock back and erase the last ten minutes.

  She keeps walking.