*Being dead is wonderful; you never get tired and you have all the time in the world to regret how you ended up this way*
Thank you Frontma for inspiring me to keep writing so she can polish off the rough edges.
(Yes, this tale is supposed to be somewhat humorous and outrageous too. While not always comedic, I'd like to think it is mostly a good-natured romp.)
OFFICIALLY AN AFFAIR
Once they got over me 'borrowing' certain gear from some of the male committee rooms, the Festivities Committee fell in line with Rochelle Wellington's agenda. I sat back as normal while they hashed out how best to use the new imagery that I'd provided courtesy of the girls at FFU. At this, my second meeting, I chose to sit behind Sahara Penny, Pastor Bill's wife.
I learned she was Lebanese Christian and she'd married William Penny when he was in the US Navy, before he became a priest. There were a ton of things left unsaid about her opinion of his ministry and I got the definite opinion that Bill had left his last post because everyone thought Sahara had an indiscretion with a young male parishioner. My guess was that if a young male parishioner was involved, the cheater was that bastard Bill.
As an added insult, Sahara's name wasn't even Sahara; that was the name Bill had listed on their marriage certificate because he found her Lebanese name difficult to pronounce. Her minority background, coupled with her husband, the pastor, letting everyone think she was a cheating whore, made Sahara the pariah of this little community.
Because I had absolutely nothing going on in my life, I had to avenge Sahara. Being dumber than a box of rocks certainly didn't hurt my determination. By the end of the session I had managed to accomplish four things. I'd helped Sahara feel better about herself and know she had a friend in me. If you have ever felt alone and isolated in the world you know how good that can feel.
I had confused Mrs. Bainbridge as to my actual intentions; she thought I was cozying up to Sahara instead of Rochelle. The committee was mildly impressed that I had both shown back up and had appeared to bust my hump in contributing to their efforts at what their menfolk thought was a joke.
Most importantly to me, I had gotten a few covert smiles from Rochelle Wellington for both my help to the other members and to my efforts with Sahara. As wife of the mayor, she wasn't supposed to make waves, which included things like befriending someone the men had designated to be on the 'Shunned' list. I was forgiven for my transgression because I clearly didn't give a fuck about what any of them cared.
When the meeting broke up Kendra Bainbridge, Sahara, Rochelle and I were quickly the last ones left. I hovered close to Sahara as we made our way to the door.
"Zane, you need to return this equipment to the proper room," Rochelle reminded me.
"Sahara, why don't we walk to our cars together?" Kendra suggested sweetly.
This was the most I had heard Kendra address Sahara in the short time I had known them.
It was clearly also her attempt of a cock-block on Sahara and I, which was a fortunate misread on the situation between myself and the Pastor's wife.
"That would be nice, Kendra," Sahara replied. She reached out and stroked my elbow. "Thank you, Zane," she added with a smile.
Kendra departed, smug in her victory, leaving Rochelle and I alone.
"I'll get this equipment put away and be right back," I told Rochelle. "Could you make sure all the new files are backed up to my account?"
"Of course, Zane," she smiled warmly, and set to work. I raced to get things squared away and hurried back. She remained at the table completing her work, coat off, when I moved in behind her.
"Are we still friends?" I asked softly as I leaned in next to her ear.
"Of course," she turned her head so our gazes were only inches apart. I made to kiss her on the lips; she recoiled so I waited. I wasn't afraid I'd spooked her; she wanted passion and the sense of freedom that came for embracing a choice all her own.
The fear drained away and she completed our encounter. She was tentative at first and I mostly let her take the lead for the first two minutes until she became more confident. When the time was right I turned her in the chair and pulled her up by each hand. My hands went to her neck while hers settled on my hips.
"We have our boundaries?" Rochelle questioned me.
"Absolutely," I confirmed. "Your neck," I kissed her neck, "ear," I kissed her ear, "and cheek are all on my side of the boundaries." I had gotten as far as fondling the breasts last time around but I had time to coax her that way and was in no hurry.
"Where are your boundaries?" I inquired of Rochelle as I lowered my hands around her hips.
"I definitely think we should keep the boundaries at the waistline," she suggested.
"So you want my waistline, but was that up or down?" I smiled.
"What?" she blushed.
"Do you want to keep your hands above my waist -- say to the stomach and chest, or you could go down below the belt?" I teased. "Just kidding," I let her off the hook. Instead, I moved my lips to her face and came to a stop there.
"We shouldn't be doing this," Rochelle sighed.
"Okay," I was disappointed, "but you will have to tell me to let go of you first."
"That isn't fair," she moaned, as she pressed her body against me and rested her forehead on my shoulder. I doubted it helped her resistance when her stomach pressed against my highly aroused cock.
"Zane," Rochelle choked out, "I've been a good wife for thirty years. I'm a pillar of the community and a loyal member of this congregation. What am I doing with a man younger than my youngest baby?"
"Rochelle, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, but I'm not going to lie about wanting you."
"I don't think you are running away from your husband and family; I think they have moved on without you, despite all you've done to make them a part of your life. If you end up alone three or more times a week, give us a shot; if not, you are doing okay and should stay where you are," I advised.
"I don't want to lose you," Rochelle worried.
"You are not going to lose me, Rochelle. You are beautiful and that is not going to change; even if you are unattainable and I have to watch you from afar," I soothed her. She seemed to swell up with happiness in my arms.
"That isn't fair one bit," she moaned.
"Fine. I don't find you attractive; I am going to forget you the moment I walk out this door and I'll never look at you again," I taunted her. "Happy? You are off the hook."
"Maybe if you were a better liar," Rochelle looked up at me smiling, "Remember that I am married to a politician."
"Oh, then tell me if I'm lying: I want to pick you up, press you onto this table and make love to you until you scream with pleasure," I challenged.
"What about our boundaries?" she panted.
