A Wife's Revenge
The words from the Godfather kept running through my head: "The women here are more dangerous than shotguns." While I wasn't Sicilian, I was Italian and my blood boiled quickly. The chilled chardonnay swirled between my fingers as my mind tried desperately to quell the storm brewing in my heart. My name is Brooke. I am thirty-one years old and married to a man, if you want to call him that, named John. We had married after he graduated from Law School almost five years ago. I'm 5'7" and since the only action I get is on a stair climber, I'm in pretty good shape.
John and I had been through high times and low, but more recently they become flat. Our relationship was a machine. Kisses hello and goodbye, sex on the weekend, maybe, and countless dinner functions filled with fake laughter and awkward handshakes. We were more testy roommates with boring benefits, than the passionate couple we were years ago.
My hand reached past a pair of flimsy lace panties that weren't mine and I picked the golden liquid up to my lips and drained the glass. I had found them in one of John's suit pockets, another in the growing list of obvious signs he was cheating. Grabbing the half-empty bottle, I filled the glass back up. I looked at the clock: 10:32pm. The green numbers blinked at me from the clock on the stove. His job afforded us a beautiful house, in a great neighborhood. We had vacations, expensive cars, world class wine but most of all we had everything he wanted us to have so he could make partner at his firm.
My phone rang. It was him. My hand trembled slightly as my mouth tried to find my voice.
"Hey," it was a simple answer. I didn't want to show emotion, at least not now.
"Yeah...uh, I'm sorry it's so late. I uh...I think I'm just going to crash at the Plaza tonight. The Sullivan case is killing, and I think I might be here a while." It sounded rehearsed, almost like he was reading.
"Ok." My hand squeezed the phone as my teeth grinded silently. "So, when am I going to see you?"
"I'll be home tomorrow, right after my afternoon meeting, alright?" He almost sounded annoyed that I had asked him.
"Yeah, ok." I was just about to hang up.
"Oh, and don't forget about that dinner with Will Masters. We're meeting him at Gino's at 7:30. He's a partner so try and wear something nice. Night babe." He hung up.
I didn't know what to say. I knew about the dinner, but to tell me to wear something nice. Fuck him. I had been basically living at the gym and the spa the past year, working out and primping trying damn near anything to get him to notice me. I didn't want to be a pent-up, frustrated housewife, but that's what I had become. I had become a stereotype. My shoulder-length jet-black hair was always perfectly styled. I lived in my yoga pants, form-fitting tops to see if he noticed how hard I worked. Not only was I in shaped, but I was training to run a half marathon with some of my friends.
Wear something nice? If I wore something nice, he wouldn't know what to do. I stood up and walked down the stairs to our basement. Living in the Denver area, we had converted our basement to an entertainment space which had an elegant 'man cave' feel to it. The room was designed with warm woods, rich brown leather couches, and huge TV, but right now what I was more concerned about, a fully stocked wine cellar.
Opening the glass door with a wrought iron vining design, I focused my attention on the area where we kept the wine to open to impress people. John opened it for top-tier clients, other partners he wanted to kiss up to and every once in a while for a dinner party to highlight his wealth. I grabbed a bottle of Grand Cru Chablis, and walked back out. God knows what, or who he was doing right now, but at least he not being here bought me some time.
I went upstairs and walked through the double doors to our room. Half stumbling already, I felt like my feet would slur if they could talk. I put my glass down, popped the bottle and drew a bath. The steam began to rise as I poured myself a heaping glass of world class wine.
How did things get this far? Where had we gone wrong? Was it my fault? I pulled the black sweater over my head, and then pulled my uniform black sweat pants down. I stood, naked in front of the mirror with a glass in my hand as I waited for the bath to fill about half way before I got in.
My pale skin contrasted my dark hair, accenting the bright pink nipples that were getting hard from the cold Denver air. My breasts were a full B, small C depending on the bra. After years of work my stomach was taut and my legs toned. The small tuft of black hair just above my pussy looked like a smear of chocolate, at least that's what one guy I was dating said year ago when his head was buried between my legs, so I always kept it like that.
I took a long sip of the outrageously expensive wine. Somehow it just tasted better with the smell of Lavender Vanilla bubble bath thick in the air. I lowered myself in to the bath, and with the bottle within hands reach, I began plotting.
When my mother told me revenge is a dish served cold I had always thought that it was just a saying. Not until the alcohol began to fuel my creative planning did I understand. I would wait until the opportunity presented itself, and then, I would make sure John understood what I was feeling.
The night passed filled with dreams of young blonde sorority girls stealing my clothes and the keys to my house and hiding them. I didn't need a psychic to tell me what they meant. I was hurt. I was scared that the last decade of my life had been lived for nothing. John was throwing away our marriage, friendship and along with it, my self-esteem. I couldn't control most of that, but I could take back the reigns of my own life, but how?
My thoughts started racing faster as the morning light filled my house. As I sipped my cup of coffee I was painfully aware of the silence throughout the large house, making me feel more alone than I already was. I needed to get out. Since I really didn't feel like talking about it with any of my friends just yet, I figured the gym, like a safe harbor, would be the best thing for me.
I kept telling myself to wait. Like a Mantra... "Wait, the opportunity will be there. Be calm." I pulled on my work out clothes and stepped into my brand new luxury SUV. I had talked John into buying it a month ago as an anniversary present. I wasn't going to get anything anyway, so I figured why not get something I wanted and would enjoy, not some piece of jewelry that I picked out myself.
The doors of the gym opened and I was greeted by Bobby, the dark-haired trainer every woman had their eye on.
"Hey Mrs. Jacobs, how are you doing?" His eyes quickly looked me up and down. He was quick enough to not linger, but every man thinks he won't be caught, but they always are. The woman's reaction to the prying eyes depends on how much they enjoyed your eyes undressing them. So, I said nothing. But his attention did lift my spirits a bit.
"I've been better. I think some cardio will do me good today." I smiled, tossed my hair slightly as I walked by him towards the woman's locker room. A woman tossing her hair was always such a cliché, but it worked, and as any woman knows it becomes almost a habit.
"Well, you're looking good to me Mrs. Jacobs." His face went bright red as the words left his mouth. Embarrassment took over as I watched his face grow into a grimace as he realized what he had said.
I turned slowly back towards him, letting my weight come to rest on my hip and paused for a second.
"Thank you Bobby. I needed that." I walked into the locker room with a bounce in my step and a sway in my hips. Opening my locker I stuffed my bag in and then looked at myself in the full length mirror that clung to the inside of the door. I was wearing my black yoga pants and my pink tank top with a white sports bra underneath. It looked good, but right now, I wanted to look better than good. I wanted to feel better, and if you look good to feel good, so looking better than good, would hopefully pick me up.
As I stood there next to my open locker, I couldn't help but revisit the feeling of having Bobby's eyes drift over my body. I wondered what he thought as his eyes passed my tits and quickly darted down to my yoga pants. Was he hoping to see the outline of my pussy? Was I reading too much into just a glance? Then something inside me clicked. If John is going to try and ruin our marriage and destroy the work I've done, I might as well have a little fun as the sinking ship goes down.
I pulled off the pink tank top, leaving me in only a white sports bra. Then I stripped off the black yoga pants and slipped on a pair of white, tight running shorts. With no panties and nothing under the sports bra, I was taking a major risk of being close to obscene, but at this point there was nothing to lose. I stared at my reflection in the mirror; Drenched in white, I was sure to grab his attention and keep it was my sweat started to soak into the material. Letting out a deep breath, I made my way to the gym.
"Hey Bobby!" I waved to him from across the mostly deserted gym, making sure he noticed I had changed. It was 11:30 and since most of the world was working, I enjoyed the luxuries of a housewife like empty gyms, but of course at what expense.
Popping my earphones in, I started doing some light stretching before doing a quick work out. I made sure to exaggerate every lunge, dip and skyward reach, hoping that Bobby would appreciate what my husband did not. I lifted my left arm over my head and pulled it down with my right, stretching my triceps. I was facing the mirror pretending to be lost in a song, while I searched for Bobby in the reflection.
Having not flirted, well not like this, in a long time I wanted to make sure my efforts weren't going unnoticed. I looked over to my right and caught him. He was standing behind the help desk staring at me. His face flushed quickly as he tried to avert his eyes. He looked down at his clipboard for a brief second and then back at me. I gave him a little smile and switched arms. It was working.
I had been on the elliptical machine for about half hour or so when Bobby walked by checking on the patrons, mostly the women. It almost seemed like he was circling me, going to different people, and getting closer with each step. I felt like he was stalking me, waiting for the perfect time to pounce on his prey.
"Mrs. Jacobs, how's your work out going?" His eyes drifted over my body as he moved to check my display screen and what my heart rate was. I hadn't had any practice flirting in a while, and there was something about Bobby that was beginning to drive me wild. Maybe it was that fact that he was young, in shape and devilishly handsome, or maybe it was just that he was noticing me. At this point I didn't know and I didn't care.
"Oh, well... it's not the most fun I've had, but it'll have to do for now." I took a deep breath pushing my tits out. His head was eye level with my hardening nipples as my body moved and adjusted to the intensity of a new resistance. His eyes shifted from my display screen to my tits and then back again as he tried to be as discreet as possible.
