Becci suffered two miscarriages before she gave birth to their first child, Ava. A sense of loss and guilt still lingered with her, while childcare curtailed her freedom. Mischievous breaks in foreign cities and games played at home were just fond memories now.
She felt overwhelmed by the responsibility of being a new mum and anxious about doing anything wrong. Under pressure from a health visitor, she reluctantly joined a baby group. Most of the other mums had older children, and they seemed to simply and naturally take everything in their stride. A few reached out to her and invited her to coffee mornings, but she ended up listening awkwardly as the others competed to boast about their child's latest triumph. Becci felt like a failure and retreated.
Although she was clearly struggling, Paul left the housework and virtually all childcare to her, particularly when Ava woke during the night. She defended him to friends and family; he was working whilst she was at home. Yet she sometimes felt so alone it was as if she was a single parent and she was only barely holding it together.
Real and perceived failings weighed heavily on her, whilst chronic sleep deprivation left her feeling tired and irritable. She struggled to concentrate and frequently lost the thread in conversation. She tolerated and laughed off jokes about her 'baby brain' from others, but when Paul joined in it hurt her deeply. Just when she most needed him to defend her, to show everyone that he understood and loved her, he mocked her to win a few cruel laughs.
Sex had largely become little more than functional. She let him have his pleasure, but she was usually too tired to do any more than just lie there. The romance and passion they once freely enjoyed together were gone. Every night that he woke her because Ava was crying and every jibe made at her expense fed a quiet, growing sense of resentment. There had been a few times when she'd briefly considered leaving him.
She felt equally insecure about her physical appearance. He used to love her belly button, a little "innie", but it had popped out during her third trimester and never went fully back in. To her it looked a deflated balloon. Although she had worked hard to keep her weight under control during her pregnancy and was back down to 110 lbs, her thighs sagged a little when she lay on her side. Dieting and exercise seemed to make little difference. Being desirable had always been so important to her; it was part of her identity and something else that she felt she'd lost.
Some years later at a party, Paul stopped her in her tracks as he casually boasted to friends about how quickly she'd returned to her pre-pregnancy weight, had virtually no stretch marks and perfect skin without a trace of cellulite. Perhaps encouraged by her reaction and too much wine, he leaned forward and excitedly continued, "And just look at her tits, they're still as perky as the day we met! But that's nothing compared to her devotion to her Kegel balls, I mean, well, it's like a slippery vice!" Becci blushed and slapped his leg, but even so she wished he had said this before, when she most needed to hear it.
Returning to Ava's infancy, she was emotionally at her lowest point, her confidence and self-worth shattered. An unexpected RSVP invitation to a hen weekend in Berlin arrived by post, followed by excited messages and calls. Although she had been close to the bride a few years back, they had drifted apart. She also hadn't been away on her own for over two years; her once famous joy-de-vie had been replaced by insecurity and self-doubt.
She decided to politely decline when Paul intervened to persuade her to go, "Don't be ridiculous, you're still gorgeous! Besides that's not the point, you're not competing with them."
Becci managed a half-smile, taking this as a partial compliment with a thinly veiled criticism. It was perhaps a reflection of how she saw herself rather than any true intent on his part, but she still translated 'not competing' into 'couldn't compete'.
Paul continued, "It would be good for you to have a break. If nothing else you could ditch the hens and slip back to the hotel for a good night's sleep." That was tempting, but the real clincher was that her parents were also going to be away that weekend and he would have to look after Ava by himself. Secretly, she hoped that he would struggle to cope and finally appreciate that it wasn't easy.
The following weekend he took her shopping and bought her an expensive little black Dolce and Gabbana dress in a sale, with heels to match. Normally this would have been well beyond their means and still cost more than anything else she owned. The dress clung to her body, yet even in her eyes it emphasised her best features. She had to accept that she looked good; almost like her former self.
During long afternoons while Ava slept she sometimes met her own needs by venturing online to read erotic short stories, something she found much more arousing than crude images and videos. Sitting alone she would start by stoking the side of her breast and inner thighs as she read, and finish quietly convulsing on one of her toys. As the date approached her mind wandered back to memories of previous hen parties. Soon those memories were matched and even bettered by fantasies.
She packed her bags alone. Her heart was racing as she placed her Aubade 1/4 cup lace bra, thong and suspenders in her case, followed by a second little bra and thong set. She pretended to herself that she just wanted to look good. Her new dress and two others she had decided to take were quite tight and she wanted to avoid a panty line. It wasn't that she intended anything to happen. Yet, just before her taxi was due, she quickly slipped her crimson satin and lace bustier into her case.
As she checked into the hotel with the other hens, their conversation was already racy. After a brief interlude to freshen up, they started with cocktails in the hotel bar. Becci was draped in a baby pink sash that simply read, 'try a bridesmaid'. It stood out against her short backless black dress, finished in heels with leather ankle straps hinting at restraints. A perfect combination of slutty, classy and kinky.
She brushed aside the suggestion that a man was staring at her, then looked over desperately hoping that it was true, that she was still desirable even in present company. She instantly blushed as she caught his eye, covering her face and giggling like an immature schoolgirl. Jenny, one of the more flirtatious hens, wondered over to share their plans for the evening with him and his friends, and returned having secured another round of drinks for the girls.
Later in a club Becci caught her breath as the men walked in, with him leading the pack. He didn't take his eyes off her as he confidently strode towards her and introduced himself as Dave. As the night progressed his attention was entirely focused on her. He flattered her eyes, lips, and figure, particularly in the sexy little number she was wearing. He couldn't have missed her wedding and engagement rings, but didn't mention them.
Drinks flowed and her insecurities and inhibitions gradually faded. He soon asked her to dance, "Just a little harmless fun." Dave held her close, their bodies touching, and inhaled her scent. Jesus, why did that make her tingle? She felt his hot breath on her ear and his moist lips on her neck as his strong hands ran down her bare back and over her buttocks, pressing her against him.
He was in good shape and his body felt so warm and firm as he held her against him. His muscles were well defined and toned without being exaggerated. During the first dance, she slipped her upper thigh between his legs and instantly smiled and blushed as she felt the outline of his penis. This was a move she had perfected in college; at first it felt substantial though spongy, but it rapidly became rigid.
Soon he had an impressive erection rubbing against her as they moved together on the dance floor. In that moment she knew that he really did want her,; it had been so long since she felt wanted as a woman. Dave's attention rekindled her own sexual desires and fulfilled a supressed but desperate need for some form of validation. Her thoughts ran wild. She wanted him to pin her down, splay her legs open and simply thrust his cock inside her. To fuck her like a wild animal. Strangely, she perhaps most wanted to see the pleasure her body would give him.
Becci looked longingly at him, but guilt overcame her. She hesitated, then broke away and took a step back, "I, I can't. I'm married you see, with a one-year old daughter." She blurted out everything Paul had done for her; she exaggerated his efforts to rebuild her confidence with kind words, and truthfully described how he'd bought her the ridiculously expensive dress and heels she was wearing.
Almost tearfully, she condemned herself, "And here I am using everything he has done for me to flirt with you, with another man, God forbid, perhaps more than flirt." She meant those last words, and left to find the girls shaking.
Shortly later, one of Dave's friends disappeared with Jenny. She had a long-term boyfriend at home, yet blatantly left with a wink and, "What happens in Vegas girls!" The rest clinked their glasses with her to seal the pact. Becci felt conflicted and jealous, and betrayed her thoughts as she whispered, "Just imagine what she is going to let him do to her.... imagine them fucking!" There was a moment's silence, before she finished with, "Such a little slut!"
There is something more illicit about hen weekends held abroad rather than at home; indiscretions and infidelities are much more common. Most of the other girls excused Jenny's behaviour, almost as if there simply wasn't an issue. It seemed she had a free pass from present company at least to do as she pleased with whoever she wanted.
Dave found Becci again much later, back in the residents bar. Somewhat more inebriated, she smiled coyly at his renewed attention. She still couldn't believe that he would want to choose her, or be so persistent in chasing that prize. His compliments were easy to listen to, and as he spoke she let his hands linger on her arm and shoulder, glancing her breast as they slipped down her body to her legs.
She realised that she was smiling at him, while he caressed her knees, gently slipping his hand up towards her inner thigh, just under the hem of her dress. Her heart skipped a beat when he leaned forward to discretely ask for her room number and whispered, "If you head up to bed I'll follow in twenty minutes, no one will know, I promise."
