With Monday morning came a sobering realization. He had betrayed his marriage vows. He had done so, gleefully, at the first real hint of temptation that he had ever encountered. He had leapt at the opportunity -- worse still, he was actively plotting how to continue that betrayal. He had deceived his wife, he had not confessed, he had no intention of confessing. Or of stopping.
And it was not just physical. "Love you," his wife had said, kissing him as she left the car, and he had responded to her, kissing her back, reaffirming his love. His love. How many times had they repeated those words, until they had become routine, perhaps meaningless. Kak loobloo ya vac. How much I love you. He had fallen in love with Karina. It had happened out on the deck, before he had seen her murals, before he had tasted her desire, and possibly her shit. All that had happened later on had just cemented that emotion. Well, wasn't that how he and his wife had started -- that mixer where they had staggered back to his room, more than a little drunk? Wasn't their whole life together the reverberation of that first passionate encounter? His head buried in her groin, his cock plunged into her mouth, dress pulled up, pants pulled down, they had still been wearing their shoes when they woke up the next morning, they had still been facing opposite directions in his little bed. God! He had never had a moment like that -- until Friday night.
Remorse was replaced with something else, and he felt himself stiffening. Not good. The day was surprisingly warm, and he was running in summer mode -- just shoes, sock, and jogging shorts, light nylon ones, so sheer that they were no more than a mild sunscreen. They gave him an all around tan, no tan line to speak of, just like a porn star. His wife teased him about it, about his big brown cock, but he could tell she liked it. Of course, back in the woods, he took off the shorts altogether sometimes. Today, he decided, was going to be one of those days. He would go for a very long run. He would get very tired. He would not, would not, run in the neighbourhood where he might encounter Karina. And he most definitely was not going onto her street. Not for a long time. He must have been out of his mind to even consider her suggestion.
But, when he came back to the entrance to his development, there she was, jogging up the road from the other direction. She was also attired in summer mode -- sports bra and hip huggers. No matter what she had said about not being in shape, she looked amazing -- her belly was a grid of muscle, her limbs smooth and strong. She ran with an effortless grace. She stopped as she came up to him, still breathing a bit heavily, her breasts bobbing up and down. He could not take his eyes off of them.
"Good morning," he ventured.
She glanced at her watch. "It is, perhaps, good afternoon."
"How are you?"
"I am very well. And you?"
"Restless." He blurted it out.
"Ah," she smiled, "it is unfortunate for you that your son interrupted. Well, perhaps, some other time."
"Perhaps." He could not conceal his disappointment. God, he was making a fool of himself!
"You are, perhaps, impatient?" He blushed. "I will make you, how would you say it, a proposal?"
"A proposition," he suggested.
"Perhaps that is the word. What is the distinction?"
"A proposal is more honourable. You propose marriage. You proposition a roll in the hay."
"A roll in the hay? Oh, a fuck?" He nodded, flushing. "Well, perhaps, then, this is more of a proposition. We will race to the top of the hill. Not the very top," she hastened to add. That was more than a thousand feet up. "Just up to the intersection for my street."
"And?"
"If you can defeat me, I will be at your disposal."
"My disposal?"
"Yes. You may do anything you wish."
"Sexual?" He had to ask.
"Of course, sexual. What do you think we are talking about?"
"And if I do not defeat you?"
"Our fortunes will be reversed. It is it a bargain?"
"A deal."
"A deal, then. Do you agree?"
"Of course."
"Good." And she went dashing up the entrance road. For a while he thought that he was going to catch her. He actually got to the point where, leaping, he might have been able to catch an ankle, make the touchdown saving tackle. But she escaped him. In the end, she was at the intersection for at least twenty seconds before he pulled up beside her, exhausted and defeated.
"You have lost," she pointed out.
"Yes."
"You are my slave for the remainder of the day."
"I have to be home by three. When Billy gets off the bus."
"I will keep that in mind. Until then, you must honour our agreement."
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Karina."
She slapped him, not on the cheeks, but on the groin. The flimsy nylon offered no protection from the sting of her palm. "Yes, mistress," she growled.
"Yes, mistress," he echoed.
"That is better. Now, come, we have much to do." She ran down the street, rapidly, and he trailed after her. She sprinted down her driveway, even less cautiously that Billy had, and he picked his way down through the leaves and acorns.
"Doesn't anyone ever sweep this?" he grumbled.
"Ah, what a good idea. If we have time, that will be one of your duties."
"You want me to do housework?" That provoked another slap.
"You will do exactly what I tell you. Without question. That is your forfeit. Believe me," she added, "sweeping leaves is nothing compared to what will be required of you."
They entered the house. "Cleanse yourself," she said. "Use that bathroom." She gestured to the one off of the kitchen. "Purge yourself, also."
"Purge myself?"
"Your bladder. Your bowels. Here." She handed him a tube. "Wash with this."
He looked at it. Depilatory cream. "Here," she said, "turn around." She was rubbing it over his back. "You will use it on the rest of your body. Make sure you clean up the shower."
"How am I going to explain this to my wife?" He blurted it out.
