A Different Ind of Affair

It was pouring down hard now. Big raindrops were hitting the roof of the car in arrhythmic sequence, sometimes drumming against it softly, only to change and a moment later knock forcefully as if threatening to turn into hail. It seemed more like a low budget movie with defective special effects than anything of natural occurrence. Despite all the rain or maybe because of it, the city stank like a barrel of fish guts, garbage and feces mixed with another smell, velvety yet unpleasantly invasive. The humidity did its work well.

She smiled.

She didn’t mind rain at all. In fact, rain was her favorite. Sunny days always made her moody and often downright depressed. Rain was fine as far as she was concerned. No need for an umbrella or mad dash from one doorway to another in hope of not getting wet, looking silly while zigzagging in an attempt to achieve the impossible.

She found walking in the rain romantic, and that says a lot for someone who determinedly claims she doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body. Walking in the rain by the lake during the storm amounted to exhilarating moments, with lightning forking the broad horizon and waves wildly foaming in fury.

On the other hand, the stench she simply tried to ignore by keeping the car windows firmly closed. It was no easy task given that the air conditioning was not working, and the humidity outside had reached its highest point. So, she decided to ignore that, too.

Trying to master the Chicago traffic in the rain was quite a different story. The first few raindrops or snowflakes would turn everybody into incompetent imbeciles, making an otherwise easy ride frustrating.

She had already seen two fender benders, with people sulkily standing outside in the pouring rain and inspecting the damage, trying to exchange insurance information. A lady stood at the curb waiting for a bus, holding a newspaper over her head in an attempt to keep her hair dry. “You should forget that, lady.” She said loudly as if a woman could hear her. “It might look better.”

She smiled again and stole a quick glance at the dashboard clock. “Fuck!” She whispered quietly. She will never make it in time.

Numerous e-mails sent by Guy earlier in the morning, some mere hints of sexuality full of playfulness that could be interpreted in any number of ways, others crude, leaving no doubt of what they meant, have achieved the desired. All she wanted now was to go home, lay in bed and wait for his call, letting his soft voice direct her through the moves that she had repeated thousands of times, but with his guidance, the ending was usually earth shattering. She left work early on pretences of not feeling well.

Her crotch throbbed in anticipation; she kept squeezing her thighs and contracting her muscles, which didn’t make it any better. The simmer of arousal had gradually become more pronounced, and now, some three hours later, all she wanted was for the cell phone to ring so that she could reach between her legs and do what was inevitably coming.

As if she willed it, the small phone rang out the Halloween Theme, causing her to floor the break in momentary panic, despite the fact that for once, the traffic was flowing smoothly. She took a deep breath in an attempt to appear cool and collected. On the small, round phone window Guy’s name was flashing in neon green. She smiled and flipped the phone open.

“Hello, darling.” Her voice immediately dropped a couple of notches into what she hoped was a sexy moan of seductiveness.

“Hello, darling.” Guy responded, his voice just as appropriately low. “What’s happening?”

“Well,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment, hoping that the car in front of her wouldn’t come to a sudden stop. “I’m still stuck in the traffic. It’s absolutely awful.”

“Oh, okay.” He said without any trace of disappointment. “How long will it take you?”

“Probably another twenty minutes, but…”

“Okay.” He responded and she hurried on: “Or I could pull over into an alley somewhere here. It’s raining hard, so nobody will be walking by.”

Guy gave out a hearty laugh, and she joined in, whether out of amusement or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure.

“Nah!” he said and his voice softened. “Daddy wouldn’t want his baby girl to get in trouble, now would he?”

The first time he called himself her daddy and her his little girl she didn’t like it. It was wrongfully perverse and a definite turn off. The next time he did it, she didn’t mind it as much. Now, she absolutely longed to hear it. It gave her that special warm feeling of familiarity, as if someone really cared, no matter the implications. She was good at blocking out the bad and accepting the good. Life had taught her that much.

“Yeah, I know, but….” She protested.

“I know, darling. I know.” He assured her with a chuckle. “I want you on the bed, though. Daddy wants his little girl on the bed and in a thong. Hot pink thong and with toys.”

Those simple words, so meaningless and absurd if anybody else was to speak them have made her shift in discomfort. She had been aroused for a few hours now; the damp warmth between her legs turning into itchiness. She needed to get home and relieve her body.

She agreed. Of course it was preposterous to think that she would be pulling into an alley and masturbating, risking a chance of being seen. She thought of the previous week, when he got her all hot through e-mails and when he realized just how turned on she became, he told her to go into her car. She pulled out of the private parking spot, tucked safely under the big roof to fight off the weather and drove to the very end of the lot, surrounded by tall birches and overgrown bushes on two sides, the other two facing an expressway and a main street.

She parked into the very corner where the two forested lines met, silently praying that there were no hidden cameras mounted on the streetlights behind her. She turned off the engine and waited. Seconds later the phone rang and Guy’s soft voice led her to ecstasy that she had become so familiar with. She pushed her hand through the open zipper of her jeans and slid it inside the panties, trying hard to move only her fingers, facial expression somber, just in case an uninvited pair of eyes was watching.

Nobody walked by and she managed to swallow the scream that she so longed to let out at the moment of bliss. A deep sigh was all that escaped her and she knew that he was aware of the achieved by her breathing alone.

She felt silly afterwards. She always felt like that when she finally got off the phone with Guy, but the moments when they were interacting were nothing but ecstasy.

“I’ll call you in about twenty minutes.” Guy finished and she could do nothing but agree, and try to reach her apartment in time.

She closed the flip phone and carefully laid it next to her on the passenger’s seat, stealing a glance in the mirror. The long hair was dirty, desperately in need of dying to hide the premature grayness, which first showed in her early twenties. Face gaunt and pale, dark circles under the eyes revealing many a late nights, some due to insomnia, others simply to worries which kept her from peaceful rest. Certainly not a beauty, but if she was to wear make up, she might look good.

She didn’t see any of that, however. The only thing that she did notice were her eyes sparkling in anticipation and a smug grin lingering on her lips. Being naughty was always a turn on. For a woman who always tried to avoid any kind of danger or confrontation, she was certainly taking great risks at times.

She turned the radio button and cut off the blast of modern music by pushing the cassette tape in its place. The haunting sound of Spanish flamenco ballad, saturated with passionate voices of Gypsy Kings levitated through the air.

“I wonder what would he think of me if he ever met me in person?” she thought, her eyebrows rising in puzzlement. She was not quite as young as he normally liked, that much she figured out from their conversations but that didn’t really bother her. Some of her friends, who were stunning beauties in high school now looked like washed out middle aged women. She didn’t kid herself about looking young, but she still managed to turn a man’s eye.

She never quite gathered up the courage to send him her picture, although he did ask for it, but only once. She told him she’d do it when she was ready and he never pressed the issue again. He however, had no problems with e-mailing his. A charming looking man in his early fifties with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a suit and tie. She chuckled over his attire; yuppies and businessmen were never her type. But she had to admit that he was very handsome.

Before she met her father for the first time in her mid twenties, she always pictured him looking like that. Instead, she was greeted by an impossibly tall and painfully thin man with a faraway look that made him appear disinterested in everything. Later she learned that he was almost blind, thus his appearance of detachment, but the first impression was made and she never liked him, she never thought he was paying her any attention. His feelings for her were that of dislike, as well. She would be willing to wager on it.

Guy reminded her of her best friend’s father. Tall and handsome, soft spoken, always attentive and kind. She winced and looked around as if watched by a pair of invisible eyes. Of course she had never lusted over her friend’s dad, he was just…. well…her dad.

She wondered if Guy even knew her name any longer. She used an alias when logging onto the erotic stories sites, which is where he found her address and got in touch with her. She gave him her real name and didn’t lie about her age, which when communicating with people online was normally not the case. He never said her name out loud on the phone, though and that made her wonder. At the end of the day, she didn’t really care.

Despite the almost daily e-mailing between them and weekly, or in the worst case monthly phone calls, she always found herself thinking back to the day when he first contacted her. It had caught her completely off guard. The introduction to the ‘new man in her life’ was always the clearest of memories when she thought about Guy. She was stunned when a few months back there was a message in here e-mail inbox from a sender whose name she didn’t recognize. Signed by Guy, he explained that he had found her name on one of the sites, which were her secret and guilty pleasure, and would she like to role-play sometime. Specifically, he said he could be her daddy or grandpa.

A prank, perhaps? Somebody in someway trying to get a hold of her information? It didn’t seem like that and despite the obvious nature of the e-mail, it intrigued her. Contrary to what she would normally do, this one she did not ignore. She wrote back: ‘You’ve got the wrong impression.’ The nerve of man, indeed.

A day later, another e-mail by Guy stated his apology if he had offended her as this was not his intention.

‘I wasn’t offended,’ was all she wrote in reply, adding her instant messenger name at the bottom and that was how it all started. Later that same day they instant messaged each other for almost three hours and she found herself telling him things that she had either never told anyone, or it has been so long ago that she had forgotten all about it.

He told her he wanted her to slip her hand inside her panties and masturbate for him. He wanted her to touch and panty fuck herself, he told her not to come yet and then he wanted her to come right then, together with him. It was a hot September day and the arousal had poured perspiration beads all over her body. She trembled like a leaf in a cold breeze. The bottoms of her bra cups were drenched in sweat.

To her amazement, she did exactly as he told her to do. It was not her way of pleasing herself in that manner, but knowing that this was dictated by another person, no matter how far away, faceless and strange had made her half mad with desire.

It had taken her much longer than usual to bring herself on the brink of orgasm, and just as she was about to shiver in the desired ecstasy, she turned her head and glanced out the window only to see her husband parking the car three stories below, returning from work earlier than she had anticipated.

She panicked and for a moment grabbed onto the computer desk as if she was ready to flee. Her eyes returned back to the monitor and words ‘Come now, come with me…’ finally pushed her into the head spinning shiver. Now kneeling on the soft carpet, she whispered ‘yes, oh yes’, regretting Guy couldn’t hear her.

‘Got to go, talk to you later’, was all she managed to type and click off he messenger window as Sam was walking through the front door, while her body was still shivering with the just experienced pleasure.

Her face must have been glowing and guilt was probably plastered all over it, too. He came into the room and gave her a puzzled look.

“What?” she asked and couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

Sam smiled back and peeped over her shoulder, onto the blank e-mail window, which she managed to open up just as he was approaching. “What are you doing?” he asked with a look of suspicion.

“Nothing!” she said and still the smile wouldn’t fade away. “What?” she asked again.

He bent over to her and cringed his nose. “You smell funny.” He concluded, which almost made her holler in laughter.

“Well, yeah!” she said as if he was stating the obvious. “It’s hot in here and I’m musty.” His eyes narrowed. “I just came back from a jog, too.” She lied.

That seemed to satisfy him enough to lose interest in questioning and go to the kitchen to browse for dinner. She sighed with relief. That was so close! It was the smell of sex that oozed out of her every pore, but Sam, not anticipating anything like that taking place couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

She couldn’t sleep that night. Despite the relief that she had given herself while talking to Guy on the computer, her body remained aroused and the unseasonable heat of the Indian summer didn’t make it any better. She tossed and turned, trying to force herself to catch some sleep. The last time she glanced at the clock was almost four in the morning and two hours later the alarm went off, jerking her out of uneasy dream.

She drove to work, still in the state of high arousal, thinking of Guy and whenever she pictured the words ‘Come now, come with me….’ on her computer monitor, she felt as if somebody had punched her in the stomach. She was ashamed and yet exhilarated. She had never done anything like this before. In fact, she used to smirk over the stories of Internet affairs that people led, always finding them distasteful and pathetically desperate. Of course, that morning she believed this had been a one-time occurrence never to be repeated.

She returned home that evening, after a day from hell at work, coupled by her body’s insistent refusal to calm itself down, she found Guy waiting for her on the instant messenger.

‘Give me your number.” He wrote and a voice of panic in the back of her mind told her not to be stupid and give in to his demands.

‘You have to promise you won’t abuse it.’ She begged, all the while thinking that this was far from any kind of rationality she was always so good at exercising. Guy reassured her he would never do such a thing. After all, they were both married. There was a lot at stake, he would never call her unless she told him it was okay and the coast was clear. A pang of guilt stabbed at her. She ignored it.

Despite her better judgment, she typed in the number, with Sam lounging on the bed only inches away from her, watching television.

‘Wait five minutes, I’ll take dogs for a walk.’ She added.

Outside, the humidity had given way to soft breeze and each stroke of cool lick made her shiver in discomfort. It has been more than a day since Guy had aroused her with his words on the computer screen and her body still did not lose any of its sexual heat. She would not have believed that something like that was possible, but she was a living proof. She was also an example of how uncomfortable and almost painful it is for every fiber in one’s body to be itching and pulsating for one thing and one thing alone.

The phone rang and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes for an instant, momentarily weighing the decision not to answer. She clicked the ON button and said ‘Hello’.

“What’s happening?” said a velvety voice on the other side, which by now she learned was a signature greeting of Guy’s. They chatted for a few minutes, awkward silences breaking her thoughts, making her forget a million questions that she had had for him. It was just a normal, uncomfortable first conversation that two people might have.

The most important thing that she got out of the conversation was that it had oddly calmed her down. When she returned from walking her dogs she noticed that the nervous tremble, which had been present for most of the day seized. She felt cool and collected, satisfied and happy. When she went to bed that night, she fell into a dreamless and peaceful oblivion.

The long blow of the car horn jerked her back into the present time. She looked around in confusion as if she had just woken up and realized that she was the first in line at the traffic light, which had turned green who knows how many seconds ago.

She stepped on the gas and flipped the finger to the driver behind her. Sam has been warning her against it ever since she had learned how to drive. ‘One of these days,’ he said, ‘you will run into some idiot who will not put up with your birdie flipping, foul mouthing, ignorant ways’.

Of course she knew he was right, but she couldn’t help herself. Sometimes, she was worried that in her rage she might floor the accelerator and slam into the car that was jumping the line or help silly teenagers cross the street faster, after she had just kindly stopped for them and instead of appreciatively hurrying along, they’d be walking as if in a stoned haze, girls swaying their hips like on a catwalk.

Another glance at the dashboard clock told her she would not make it in time. The traffic moved too slowly and the rain seemed to be coming down harder than ever. “Damn it!” she shook the wheel in frustration as if trying to rip it out of its place. “Come on, already! She yelled and squeezed the stirring wheel hard, accidentally blowing the horn.

“Oops!” she giggled and noticed the driver of the car in front inspecting what was happening behind him in the mirror. He flipped her a finger and she flipped him one back.

“Asshole.” She said, well aware that it was not his fault they were stuck.

She pulled onto her street, frantically looking for a parking space. There were many available but all were accompanied by parking meters, which would mean that she would have to come down every couple of hours and feed hers with quarters. If she was to have a bit of a naughty with Guy on the phone, she knew that afterwards she would take a catnap, with a good possibility of it turning into a dreamless sleep that might last for hours.

Spotting an empty space in the alley she had just passed, she flicked the turn signal on and at the very last moment turned right, cutting off the approaching vehicle, making a half U-turn, tires screeching with the driver of the car slamming on breaks wildly, honking his horn and screaming something at her furiously, although she could not make it what it was. She had a pretty good idea of the content, though.

With trembling hands and pounding heart she managed to avoid the collision and pull into the alley. “You need to get off that sugar diet, buddy.” She said into the mirror, the comment directed towards the driver that she had so rudely cut off, putting in danger more than just herself.