The key slipped into the door's keyhole and unlocked the mechanism inside it. She held the door frame and gently eased it open, not wishing it to make any noise than it already would have. The living room was quiet and deserted. That was good. Ellen stepped into her house and quietly locked back the door.
She craved for a hot cup of coffee, but before that she had other things to do first. She went up the stairs and peeked into the children's room, saw them all snuggled and asleep in their beds and then quietly headed for hers. She took off her clothes—she wasn't wearing any panties this time as the remains of it were still back at her boss's place—and went into the bathroom to have herself a warm shower. The water cascaded down on her, soothing her over-wrought body. It did little to stem down the yearning throb she was having around her crotch. God, her pussy felt as if someone had lit a match to it. While she sponged herself, she couldn't help feeling her hand around it, inserting two fingers between her cunt's lips. She reflected on the bout of fucking she'd undergone an hour ago ... in her mind's eye she could still feel the girth of her boss's cock ... the brute manner with which he'd penetrated and fucked her madly with it. Now she was having doubts whether the pain would calm down before morning. Hopefully it would.
Her shower ended, Ellen returned to the bedroom and put on her night wear. She thought about going downstairs to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of coffee ... but was mindful about waking up the kids. She couldn't stomach being bombarded with questions from them about where she'd gone to, whom she'd gone to see, and why she'd return so late. That would all just have to wait till morning, and perhaps by then she would have dreamed up a perfect lie.
Her best option was to get herself some sleep. She slipped into the covers and turned off her table lamp.
* * * *
She came awake not by the alarm clock sounding off but by her cell phone ringing incessantly. She groaned as she reached for it while at the same time turning on the light of the table lamp, wondering who it might be. Her grumbling died when she saw that it was her husband calling—at 5:34 A.M.
"Hello honey," her voice sounded groggy even to herself.
"How're you doing, beautiful," came her husband's voice.
"Darling ... isn't it a little too early for you to be calling?
"I know, and I'm so sorry about it. It's going to be a lonely Saturday for me here without you, and I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice this lovely morning. How was your night?"
"My night was ..." she paused for a moment, biting down on her tongue. My God, how do I tell Tim what I'd done last night?
"Ellen? Ellen, are you there?"
"Yes ... yes, Tim, I'm here. Sorry about that, my mind was stuck on something else for a moment. Anyway, my night was fine ... just missing you though."
"I know you are, darling. I'm missing you and the kids as well. Say hi to them for me, and tell them how much I miss them."
"I'll do so. You be a good boy over there now. I'll talk to you again soon."
They said goodbye to each other before the call ended. Ellen looked at the time on her phone screen once again and sighed. She was feeling rather weak and tired but now that she'd come awake—all thanks to Tim—she found it hard slipping back into dreamland. Feeling frustrated, she got up from the bed and walked out of the room. Her destination was the kitchen, in search of that coffee she ought to have taken earlier.
In the kitchen, she heated a kettle of water on the stove and minutes later was seated at the kitchen table sipping hot coffee while staring at the approaching dawn in the sky outside the window. The throb that had been aching her crotch was no longer there. It was hard for her to believe that she hadn't been royally fucked the previous evening ... a mere hours ago. Royally fucked. She sniggered at the phase. No, a much better one would be that she had been royally well fucked, that's what it was. One of her mom's favourite anecdotes was that famous line of calling a spade by its name. She wondered what her mom would have thought had she been the one who'd been royally well fucked.
Was it rape?
Had her boss taken her against her will simply because she'd been too drunk to fight back at him? She was double-minded about this. It could be—it does sort of feel like it. If so, then she ought to be downright angry now. She could picture herself right now filing a law suit against him later in the day ... and yet she wasn't thinking about such. The onslaught of his cock still reverberated in her mind, and as vile and vindictive as she should be right now ... she was actually missing it. His cock had filled and fucked her pussy in so many ways that no man in her life had ever done, not even sweet Tim, her husband.
The day was just about breaking. Ellen decided she was going to have to confront Gerald about last night if she was ever going to have some peace of mind. It was a good thing too that Tim wouldn't be back till early next week, thus she had enough time on hand to settle this ... situation. Still unresolved about whatever she planned on doing next, she drained the remainder of her coffee and washed it off before leaving the kitchen and returning back to her bedroom. She pretended to fall asleep but knew even that wasn't going to happen. An hour later, the kids were banging at her door to wake up.
* * * *
She was onto her second cup of coffee for the day, seated at the kitchen table going through a Vanity Fair magazine in front of her when there came a tapping sound at the kitchen's net door facing the back of the house. She looked up and gave a wan smile at the middle-aged woman standing outside her door.
The woman, whose name was Annie Seymour, waved at her. "Hiya Ellen," she called out in a high-sounding voice.
Ellen got up from her chair and went to let her neighbour in. "Hi there, Annie. Didn't know you'd be around by this time."
"I thought I'd take a break from my tennis games," said Annie. "Besides, I've got very little or just about nothing else to do, so I figured I'd stay at home and look after him and maybe catch up the re-runs of Desperate Housewives."
That figures, thought Ellen, as she returned to her kitchen table. If there was anyone who's got a healthy addiction towards watching whatever home-drama episode of Desperate Housewives, it's Annie. Although they've been friends since Ellen and Tim moved in here—neighbours and friends—Ellen couldn't help not having herself a measure of distrust towards her. Annie was a known flirt in the neighbourhood, an incontrovertible one as such and she was very open and proud about it. She and her husband, Eric, were certified swingers and have been indulging in the lifestyle since they got married twelve years ago. Annie was approaching her mid-thirties. She stood at about the same height as that sexy Alien movie actress, Sigourney Weaver, though she wasn't as skinny as she was. Annie was blessed with a rather voluptuous figure that complimented every part of her anatomy. Her breasts were always jutting outward, wanting to pop out of her clothes, and the fact that she enjoyed wearing tight-fitting shirts seemed to make that appropriate. And she loved wearing short skirts to show off her legs. She claimed to have been taking tennis lessons at a fitness club. But Ellen figured the only lesson she was probably having was screwing the young tennis instructor, with or without her husband knowing. She was a confessed man-eater, if ever such a title did exist. Time after time, she'd made attempts at enrolling Ellen and Tim towards attending their numerous neighbourhood parties. It was no secret that such parties usually ended in debauchery, and also that Annie's number one aim was to find a means of snaring Tim to herself. Ellen knew this too well, and thus almost always drew a line whenever it came to her dealings with her.
"I just thought I'd borrow some sugar from you, if you've got any," said Annie.
"Oh, yeah, sure." Annie opened one cupboard after another before then finding a jar that contained sugar, which she then gave to her neighbour friend.
"Thanks. I'll just have four, if you don't mind." She selected the cubes from the jar and then sealed back the lid. "By the way, Eric told me that Tim has gone off to some business sort of trip."
Such a neighbourhood snooper she was, thought Ellen. This was another thing about her that she despised.
