It was the usual boring Monday for Helen. The reviled one had left customarily early with the usual lack of any attempt at communication. The house and time were her own to do as she pleased. So why did she feel like a prisoner in this multi-million dollar mansion? Time, she sighed reminding herself and routine, too much of both. She'd met a young, handsome, passionate politics major out to change the world and ended up with a jaded, right wing office robot, content to mete out the days in comfortable party anonymity, free to take on multiple meaningless corporate directorships that took him all round the country and out of her life.
The spark had died years ago but they were comfortable in their distanced marriage. Dinner and sex on special occasions only and they got on with their lives in their own way. Safe in the financial security that his position bestowed and the public image of a stable married family man. She knew he fucked around on his "business trips" and she screwed whoever she felt like when he was away. The unwritten rule was not to rub it in the others face.
She'd sailed close to the wind on purpose though, a few years back, screwed his protΓ©gΓ© who was marked up and coming and a man to watch in the party. The fact that he held George in fear and awe had pissed her off so much she wanted to hurt them both. But he'd blown the plan for humiliation and brokenly confessed in tears to his master before being summarily removed from his career.
George hadn't even bothered to be angry with her, just completely blanked her and left for an extra long trip. Somehow that was worse. She knew why she hated him, hated his lack of ambition, that he could have had it all and settled. That he'd consigned her to the B list gossip girls and fucking two bit lawyers. She was the right photo-fit girl from the right family with the right education and now here she was, forty and childless in a loveless marriage. Rich, bored and trapped.
The only person that kept her halfway sane was Sue. Or more precisely, Susan Martha Margolotta Potemnikz. Fellow political trophy wife in the self-same situation as Helen. Married to an absentee asshole, disinterested in the wives club scene. The only difference was that she hailed from a wealthy family and could easily afford to split from the impotent creep. But staying married to him pissed off both her husband and both families into the bargain. She was vindictive and Helen loved her for it.
She often sneered at the thought of George walking in on them. Her anti-gay lobbyist being confronted by the sight of his wife riding the face of her best friend. Sue had started it, inviting her over to join in screwing some random gigolo in their marital bed. There'd been coke and alcohol and before she knew it, Sue was underneath her, licking her clit while the guy rammed her from behind. The shock hadn't stopped her cumming and cumming hard.
They'd joked about it sober a few days after and ended up back in bed for a more private and intimate exploration. They'd played and stayed and remained lovers ever since. She suspected her husband had no problem with girl on girl action, just man on man being an unholy sin.
Sue was due round this morning in fact and Helen assumed the gate buzzer indicated her arrival. She was surprised by a strangers soft, clipped tones on the intercom. "Good morning Mrs Hounslow, my name is Kristoff Petersen. I need to speak with you urgently about a private matter. May I come in?"
The name and voice didn't ring any bells and she was worried suddenly about urgent and private. "Um, I'm sorry Mr Petersen, I'm expecting a visitor any moment"...she was cut off suddenly by Susan's voice at the other end.
"Hey Helen! Good morning! And hello to you dashing stranger! Helen, I'd let this one in! You didn't tell me you'd ordered a delivery, can we keep him?!"