The shame was heartbreaking. That she had done it. That she had enjoyed it. That she felt an overwhelming desire to do it again.
She'd been raised to be a "good girl". For thirty years she had been that person. All through school, including college, she had studied and been rewarded with top grades. She had never snuck out of the house, stayed out past curfew, tried drugs, or even smoked a cigarette. Until she was twenty-one and had been dating Billy for almost a year, she had never let anyone touch her beneath her clothes, and even Billy never touched her except through her panties until they were married.
Until just a few days ago, she had convinced herself she was happy with her life. It may not have been the life she had dreamed of as a girl, but it certainly wasn't anything to cry over. She lived in a very nice home, drove a brand new car every year, was an active member in several charity organizations, and had a husband who was devoted to her.
How had it gone so terribly wrong?
Stubbing out the cigarette she'd been smoking, Trisha stood up and began to pace the small motel room. The memories of that day were still fresh in her mind… the day her life forever changed.
She was supposed to have gone to a meeting with the planning committee for a fundraiser, but then her mother had called. Carol was in town for the day.
The four of them had gone to lunch. It had been pleasant enough, at least as pleasant as anything could be when her sister was involved. Carol was seven years younger and her complete opposite.
When she wasn't angry with her sister for making their parents upset, she sometimes envied her. Carol did whatever she wanted. She had barely passed high school, too busy partying to study. After high school, she packed her bags and left with two of her girlfriends, traveling the country, working odd jobs here and there to make enough money to get to the next unknown destination. Her life was unsteady, even now, but she was never short of adventure.
Trisha had left the restaurant, feeling guilty for not having gone to the fundraising meeting. Knowing those meetings always lasted most of an afternoon, she decided to go home, change her clothes, and drive over to the club.
Billy's car was in the drive when she pulled up. It was rare, but there were times he came home in the afternoon, so she hadn't given it much thought. She had parked her car behind his and gone inside.
He wasn't in the living room or kitchen so she went upstairs to change clothes. Maybe he wasn't feeling well.
The door to their bedroom was open and even before she got to it, she could hear a pounding noise from within. Then, standing in the doorway, she saw her world crash in around her.
Trisha had no idea who the woman was, but there she was… naked, riding Billy's shaft, smiling at her with her body blocking Billy's view of the door. Stunned, Trisha couldn't utter a sound. She could only stare. The woman winked at her then began to moan loudly.
Closing her eyes against the sight, Trisha was about to turn and leave when she heard the woman say, "Eat me Billy. Fuck me with your tongue."
As she watched, the woman lifted herself off him and slid her body back until she was straddling Billy's face. Then she bent forward and put her lips over his cock, all the while watching the expression on Trisha's face.
She wanted to look away, to leave, but her feet had suddenly grown roots. She couldn't move. She couldn't close her eyes. She could only watch in stunned horror as that woman taunted her, sitting up at one point so Trisha could see Billy's mouth buried between her legs, Billy totally unaware that she was there. Tears streaked her cheeks as she watched the woman's mouth slide up and down her husbands shaft, bringing him to orgasm.
The woman smiled at her then closed her eyes, her body moving rapidly against Billy's face, lost in her own orgasm. The woman moaned , her body arching, hands grasping the headboard behind her before finally collapsing beside Billy.
"Mmmmm," the woman said. "Do you think your wife got off on watching us?"
"What -!" Billy bellowed as he shot up to a sitting position.
Trisha could barely see him, her vision blurred by the tears. She felt like a rag doll, wondering how she was able to stand.
"Fuck!" she heard him say as she felt herself fall to the floor.
He had come to her, but she had no idea what he said or what he did. All she could hear was the sound of her heart shattering as gut wrenching sobs threw her body into a seizure like state.
Much later she had awakened on the bed in the guest room. It was dark. Still crying, but her body in control now, she was able to make her way downstairs. Billy was sitting in a chair in the living room.
He had apologized, perhaps said more, but she couldn't recall .All she could remember of those following days was feeling like the walking dead. She didn't eat, didn't shower, just spent her days and nights locked in the guest room.
However, the last three days were vivid. Lighting another cigarette, she sat at the small table in the motel room absently staring at the bruises and small cuts on her hands and arms.
Wednesday. Before her eyes had opened, her stomach was loudly protesting it's emptiness. Looking about the room, she had decided from the amount of light coming in through the windows that it had to be afternoon. Billy would be gone.
Downstairs, she had popped a frozen entrée in the microwave and snacked on chips while waiting for it to cook. After eating the microwave meal and drinking a bottle of Coke, she went upstairs to the bathroom off the hall, not quite ready to enter her bedroom yet, and showered.
Her stomach full, and feeling fresh for the first time in days, she felt strong enough to venture into what had been her favorite room in the house. Not looking at the bed, she went directly to the closet to get clean clothes.
It was time to confront Billy.
She'd considered waiting for him to get home, but then decided that the best place would be somewhere public. Where better than his office? They would be forced to be civil to each other; her, because it was all she knew, him because it was where he made his living.
Billy's office was at the end of a hall in the main showroom. There were offices on each side of the hall, public bathrooms, a door to the service area, then the outer office. As usual, that door was closed. Trisha didn't knock, she merely opened the door and crossed the small expanse to his office door.
His secretary tried to stop her, insisting he was with a customer. Trisha didn't care. She had come here to have it out with him and if that meant he had to lose a sale, so be it. Until the moment she opened the door to his private office, she had been willing to listen to anything he had to say, even if it meant she took the blame for his infidelity.
Billy's back was to the door. He was standing in front of his desk, his pants around his ankles, a woman's legs wrapped tightly around his waist.
Trisha heard someone clear their throat, then felt Billy's secretary placing her hands on her shoulders, leading her away from the scene.
"I'm so sorry Mrs. Tremayne," the woman said as she closed the private office door.
"You… you knew?" Trisha asked.
The woman shook her head and helped Trisha to sit in one of the chairs then went back to the office. A few moments later a strange woman ran past her just before Billy came out and dragged her into his office.
She couldn't now recall everything that had been said, only that he had started out sweet, apologizing to her, before it turned ugly. Before he said the words that seemed permanently ingrained upon her soul.
"You're a prude, Trisha! I need to fuck! You never want to touch my cock or even look at it! You'd think your pussy was the national treasure the way you protect it: don't touch! We can't do that! Christ! I got fed up, woman. Tired of fucking my own hand! So when I'm offered pussy, you're damn straight I'm gonna take it!"
Speechless and feeling hurt to the core of her being, she had turned and walked out of his office. Perhaps realizing he'd said too much, he had followed her, begging her to stop. At one point, he had taken hold of her arm to stop her. She recalled spinning around to face him, her hand making contact hard across his face before she shook free of his hold and continued on.
The drive back to the house took twenty minutes. In that time, it seemed like every emotion possible passed through her, but anger was the one that stayed. She remembered parking the car in front of the house and storming inside. The next few minutes were a blur, but she recalled that when the first bout of anger had subsided she was standing in the kitchen amongst broken plates and glasses scattered on the floor and counters.
She had looked about her, somewhat confused, then gone upstairs. Taking a suitcase from the closet in the guest room, she stuffed it full with clothes from her closet and dresser. As she was about to leave, she looked back at the bedroom she and Billy had shared all those years, again bewildered to find the mattress slashed, the bedding in shreds on the floor, the bedside tables toppled over.
She got in the car and drove to the interstate highway, then headed south.
When the low fuel buzzer went off, she pulled off to top the tank, bought some snacks, then got back on the highway again. The sun was just coming up on Thursday morning when she felt herself getting too tired to drive any further and stopped at a rest area.
The heat from the afternoon sun woke her. She got out of the car to stretch, then after using the public bathroom, was back on the road once more. As soon as she found the next interstate going west, she turned.
It was late Thursday night when the low fuel buzzer went off again. She pulled off the interstate and wound up at this motel, part of a small travel plaza. There was the motel, a restaurant, and a truck stop. On the other side of the interstate there was another motel and a bar.
With no idea where she was, she decided to stay a couple nights, take some time to decide where she wanted to go, what she wanted to do. It was late Friday afternoon before she woke up. After showering, she walked to the restaurant for dinner.
Most of the booths were full, so she went to sit at the counter, staying as far away from the other patrons as possible. There were only four other people sitting at the counter, two men sitting by themselves, and a couple sitting over on the opposite side as her. She ordered her meal, then sat and tried not to notice the man sitting nearest to her.
He was staring at her. She glanced over at him once, long enough to notice he was big, his arms tattooed, and he looked mean. She smiled, not to be friendly, but because it was what she had always done when someone looked at her. It seemed to encourage him and he moved to sit on the stool next to her.
"Hey pretty, you commercial?" he asked.
Confused, she said, "What?"
He chuckled.
"I've never seen you here before."
"Oh. I've never been here, maybe that's why."
"Aahh. I'm Charley."
She smiled again and nodded her head.
"I'm just here for the night. Lookin' for some fun."
