The following story is a work of fiction. All events are fictional and all the characters are aged 18 or over. As always, feedback, comments and votes are most welcome. I hope you enjoy it.
*****
Her phone chimed with a new text message just as she was dropping Rebecca and Justin at the high school gates. The sound made her heart skip and the bottom drop out of her stomach. The chime was the special one she had assigned to Rachel -- different to the generic tone she used for all other messages -- but only subtly so to avert any suspicion. That chime signalled a message she must read in private and before anyone else could pick up her phone; a message that always triggered an erotic charge, making her nipples tighten and her pussy moisten.
"Hurry up!" she chided the kids as they wrestled with their school bags, and then felt guilty for hassling them. She was double-parked and wouldn't be able to open the message till she found a suitable place to stop. Finally the doors slammed and she drove away from the school and into a side street where she could park legally. Her fingers trembled, as they always did, when she retrieved a message from Rachel.
"Hi Astrid xxx if netball is rained out tomoz and u can get away from Brad pleeeeese come see me. My parents are away and I so want to feel ur tongue in me again!! ;) ;) R xxxxx
She stared at the message. She read it again; and again. It shocked her. Not because it was especially graphic. She had received many more titillating messages from Rachel over the three months they'd been conducting a torrid but nerve-wracking affair. And not because of the use of first names -- something she'd strictly forbidden in their sexting.
What shocked her was that her name was not "Astrid". Never had been -- never would be. She had no interest in, nor connection to, netball and her husband was certainly not called Brad.
She was Marilyn. Marilyn Stewart, respectable 42 year old suburban wife and mother; volunteer deliverer of meals-on-wheels to the elderly; secretary of her children's school P & C Association; mundane participant in book clubs and yoga classes and coffee mornings.
But also now -- secretly -- excitingly -- impossibly -- an older lesbian lover to a stunningly beautiful 18 year old girl.
All of this ricocheted through her mind as she stared blankly at the text message. A message intended for someone else, that Rachel had inadvertently sent to her. Marilyn felt a surge of anger and jealousy rise up in her. Anger directed at Rachel and jealousy directed at this other woman; because Marilyn knew precisely who this other woman was.
Astrid Turner: athletic, beautiful, vibrant Astrid Turner: volunteer coach of the school's senior netball team; respectable wife of Bradly and devoted mother of Rachel's best friend.
Marilyn's head spun as she tried to take in the implications of this text. And no matter which way she turned it over in her mind she could reach only one conclusion: her teenage lesbian lover was also fucking Astrid Turner. It was a million to one improbability that there'd be any other netballing Astrid, married to a man named Bradley, in their small town.
She found it difficult to calm her emotions. How could Rachel do this to her after everything they'd shared? After everything Marilyn had risked to be with her? And yet she knew she had no real right to be outraged. After all -- her affair with Rachel was wrong on all kinds of levels. For a start she was of barely legal age while Marilyn was on the wrong side of 40. Rachel was also one of her daughter's closest friends. She was vulnerable and innocent (or so Marilyn had thought!). And for the first time in her married life Marilyn was cheating on her husband -- and her family. The affair had her twisted up inside and she was continually vowing to end it. But then again, since first taking Rachel into her bed, she had never felt more alive, more sexy, more womanly. Rachel Reeves was a sexual pocket-rocket. Quite petite, she had the most beautiful blue eyes and the most sensual lips. And - oh God - the most perkily perfect tits and firm little arse she could ever wish to see. The teenager had awoken a passion in Marilyn she'd never known existed. Rachel knew far more about Marilyn's body and how to excite her than her poor husband had ever known. And she just couldn't get enough of the teenager. They had to be careful of course but Marilyn still sometimes took insane risks just to be with Rachel -- to feel the girl's tight young body against her own, to suck on her tongue, to taste her tiny cunt. Marilyn shivered as a surge of lust worked through her body -- as it always did when she contemplated her sex play with Rachel.
But now she also felt foolish. Humiliated and degraded. What she had thought was unique and special between them now just seemed like a tawdry dalliance.
And what now? What should she do with this terrible knowledge. Marilyn Stewart sat there in her middle-range suburban people mover, in that middle-class suburban street, contemplating her middle-aged suburban life for almost an hour. Finally she knew what she had to do -- and she had to do it quickly.
*
"Hello, Astrid speaking."
"Hi Astrid, it's Marilyn here -- Marilyn Stewart, you know, from school."
"Oh yes, Marilyn -- sure -- um -- what can I do for you?" She sounded surprised to hear from Marilyn. But why wouldn't she? Their daughters were in the same year at the high school, and shared a mutual friendship with Rachel, but Astrid and she were really only nodding acquaintances. It's true that in recent years, as Marilyn's bisexual yearnings grew more insistent, she had paid more attention to Astrid, casually fantasising about fucking the gorgeous blonde. But they moved in completely different circles and as far as sport went Marilyn's totally un-athletic daughter wouldn't know a netball from a golf ball.
"Um, there's something I need to talk to you about. Something important."
"Really? Well sure, go ahead."
Marilyn took a deep breath. "It's actually a bit too delicate to discuss over the phone. Could we meet somewhere? Somewhere a bit private?"
"Private? Really? Sounds very mysterious. I'm a bit tied up this afternoon..." I'll bet you are, Marilyn thought with a sudden spurt of jealousy. "... but how about tomorrow after the netball. I have some shopping to do and I could meet you at the Globe Shopping Centre. Would that be okay? "
"Yes, that would be fine. I'll park in the rear carpark. We can talk in my car."
"In your car?"
"Yes, for the privacy."
"Well, sure, I guess. It's a white CR-V isn't it?"
Marilyn was surprised that Astrid would know what sort of car she drove. "Yes that's right. Would midday be okay?"
"Yes -- that should be fine."
"Great -- I'll see you then. And ... thanks."
*