Author's Note
:
This is the first installment of a trilogy, with each part to be released every few days over the coming week or so. Chapter 1 (in the Erotic Couplings category) lays the foundation for their marital strife and his foray into unfaithfulness. Chapter 2 (in the Loving Wives Category) explores her cheating heart and the object of her affection. Chapter 3 (also Loving Wives) finds an unexpected resolution.
*****
Todd Russell rolled himself slowly toward his wife. He lifted the bedsheet slightly to keep it from wrapping underneath him. The last thing he needed was a satin-spun cock blocker. Jill was already doing a good enough job of that all by herself.
Even in the dark, Todd could sense Jill stiffen as he narrowed the distance between them. As usual, she was turned away from him and wrapped in a full-length button-down nightgown. No easy access there. And she had long ago developed a bad habit of nodding off faster than a narcoleptic as soon as the lights went off. But tonight the rise and fall of her nocturnal breathing hadn't yet reached its sleep-filled syncopation.
Todd chanced a brief caress of Jill's shoulder. Her immediate flinch sent the unspoken message that he'd expected. Another sexless Saturday night was unfolding before his very eyes.
Five months had passed since their last sexual encounter of any sort, and more than two years since their days of passionate lovemaking. Was it because, five years into their marriage, the fertility clinic specialists had finally figured out that Todd was shooting blanks? Or was Jill, during the two years since, simply beginning to experience the feminine form of the seven-year itch?
Whatever the cause of their sexual rift, it had led to an emotional schism. Todd no longer assumed the best in his wife, nor tried to bring out the best in her. Mundane topics often led him to harsh words or sarcastic criticism. And Jill responded in kind. "Blessed are the peacemakers" was a phrase not practiced in the Russell household.
The thermal freeze in the bedroom was turning their other encounters frosty as well. But to be fair, which was the chicken and which was the egg? Todd didn't know, but he knew he was frustrated, angry and felt trapped in a loveless marriage. To boot, he had developed some bad habits of his own, not the least of which he was about to repeat.
Todd listened to Jill's breathing pattern. She appeared to now be off to her narcoleptic dreams. Todd watched the red LED display on the clock. It was 11:37. He waited, willing himself not to fall asleep. He listened to Jill's breathing pattern, now certain that she was asleep. He stole occasional glances at the clock until its readout reached 11:45. He lifted the covers again, but this time he rolled in the other direction.
Grabbing his jeans and the rest of his discarded clothes from beside the bed, Todd slipped stealthily into the bathroom. Without turning on the light so as not to wake Jill, he slipped out of his pajamas and into the clothes he had worn that evening. Within moments, he was behind the wheel of his bland charcoal gray 2010 Ford Fusion SE, headed down the road on a familiar journey, with AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" blaring on the radio.
* * * * * * *
"Hey there, Sport!" greeted the pretty brunette, rising from behind the counter. "What can we do for you tonight?"
Todd gulped. He'd been visiting this establishment for three months now on a roughly bi-weekly basis, and she recognized him as a regular. "The usual," he replied.
"Sure - 50 minutes, full body," she answered. "That's eighty dollars cash up front. Who'd you like to help ya?"
Todd looked down at his shoes as he reached for his wallet. "Um, I was wondering..."
"Wondering what?" she queried, a look of genuine puzzlement on her face.
"Well, uh..." He handed her four crisp twenty dollar bills from the ATM he'd visited on the way.
"Spit it out, Sport," she encouraged.
"Well, Angie..." He'd noticed her name tag each time he'd visited the establishment, and now he was making use of it in an attempt to breed familiarity. Or maybe just to breed. "I was wondering if you always just ran the front desk, or if you, uh, sometimes..." His voice trailed off in shame.
"If I sometimes - what?" A hint of a smirk now crept across her features. She had been down this road numerous times with other clients, and knew what was coming next. And, despite the fact that he was way cuter that most of the creeps who asked her to service them, she vowed internally to continue to stick to her desk job.
"Well, uh, you're by far the best-looking girl that works in this place," the man blurted nervously. "And you're always so kind and friendly to me. So I was just wondering if maybe, with special customers, you might sometimes be the one to give a massage." He appeared to be on the verge of passing out.
Whoa
, she thought,
not what I expected, even though I expected it. Why does he have to be so sweet
?
She waited a torturous thirty seconds or so before replying. "Well, I don't have the training that the other girls have..."
"I'm easy to please..." he interjected.
He really is cute
, she thought,
and he seems sweet. And he probably doesn't expect much
... "Well, if that's what you really want, I could arrange for Sophie to watch the front," she surprised herself as the words spilled out of her mouth.
"Really?" Todd's beaming smile provided her a sense of affirmation at her decision.
"Well, I've never done it before, but you could be my first. Massage, that is," she clarified.
Todd's cock began to swell inside his jeans. Thankfully, Angie was looking him in the eye rather than lower down. "Great!" he answered happily. If he'd been a puppy, he would have surely been wagging his tail. As it was, he was having trouble keeping his tongue inside his mouth.
"You go get yourself comfortable in Massage Room 2, and I'll be down there after I speak with Sophie," said Angie.
Todd knew the drill. He headed down the hallway and hung a left. After closing the door behind him, he disrobed completely, then wrapped one of the massage parlor's white terry-cloth towels around his waist. He lay face-down on the massage table, so as not to display his obvious erection under the towel.
During his three months of visits, Todd had found the company's name - "Happy Endings" - to represent genuine truth in advertising. But tonight he was hoping for more than just a hand job. He'd brought plenty of cash, as the girls always worked on tips once he plunked down the eighty bucks' entry fee at the front desk. But none of his generous tips had gotten his penis into a mouth or a vagina at "Happy Endings." The organization had its standards, and the staff members were trained to keep just barely on the right side of the law. And in this town, penetration of any sort was where the legal lines were drawn.
* * * * * * *
Todd flinched when the door opened. But it wasn't the kind of flinch that Jill had given him earlier when he touched her. It was a flinch of excitement and anticipation.
"Hey, Sport," said Angie, "You ready for a massage virgin?"
Todd squirmed as his cock hardened beneath him. "Ready as I'll ever be," he quipped, trying to sound casual.
"Before we get down to business, Sport, I've been wondering - what should I call you? 'Sport' just seems so impersonal."
And I want to get very personal with you
, Todd thought. "Um, it's..." He hesitated briefly before replying. "It's Todd."
"That's your real name?"
Todd flushed with embarrassment. He'd actually thought of lying in order to retain his anonymity when she first asked, but he'd decided better of it. Keeping lies straight was not his cup of tea. "Yes, it's my real name."
Then, out of nowhere, he felt a sudden surge of confidence. "But that's all you'll get out of me, young lady - no last names until we're officially dating," he smiled. A pang of guilt washed over him as he visualized his wedding ring, sheathed in the tiny sub-pocket at the top of the right front pocket of his jeans.
Pushing his negative emotions aside, Todd asked, "Is Angie your real name?"
"Yep," she answered, "Couldn't you tell? I'd have come up with something more creative as a pseudonym. Like Jasmine, or Bambi, or Candi, or Fantasia..."
"Or Kate," Todd interrupted, snapping his fingers. "That's it - that's your doppelganger. Kate Middleton. Duchess of Cambridge. Beautiful bride of Prince William."
Now it was Angie's turn to blush. "Yes, well I guess," she stammered. "Yes, I've seen the resemblance in the tabloid photos at the supermarket checkout line."
"Well, my beautiful princess, don't you think you should slip into something more comfortable - I mean practical - to do this job?" His gaze swept down her loose-fitting long sleeve blouse to her tight-fitting jeans. The billowy plaid blouse didn't provide much of a view of her breasts, but the hip-hugger jeans virtually invited him to ogle her ass.
"I don't have another outfit here. I wasn't planning on... doing this." The shoe was now squarely on the other foot. Angie was now the nervous one, and Todd was growing more assertive by the moment.
"That's not a problem. I'm naked under the towel. How about you make yourself just as comfortable?"
"I - I - couldn't do that," she answered.
"Why not? I have two hundred and twenty bucks that says you can." Todd was good at math, and had quickly calculated the difference between the $300 daily withdrawal limit on his ATM card and the eighty bucks he'd paid at the front.
"You want me to strip and then give you a massage? And nothing more?"
"Nothing that you don't want to do," Todd replied.
"For two hundred and twenty bucks?" Angie was thinking about her rent. Her $12 an hour as the receptionist wouldn't pay her two hundred and twenty bucks in three evenings of work, especially not after taxes. And she knew from the other girls that cash tips were not easily taxed.
