Entangled Pt. 2--Apology
Note: This story not only contains descriptions of violent lesbian sex, but also addresses such issues as the structural sin: heterosexism, and how it affects a bisexual married woman, and creates an increased possibility for more personal sins between individuals. It also contains a suggestion of sexual punishment, and the possibility of an honest and morally good open relationship. If any of these things offend you please do not read this story.
"You Bitch!" I exclaimed. I wouldn't normally have called a woman a bitch, but I was so taken aback by her betrayal. "You lied to me," I accused, not really looking at her as we both struggled to find our cloths. I felt like crying but I knew I couldn't let her husband know: I stilled loved her.
"Please try to understand--"
"Oh Fuck you Lucia." I lifted my shirt over my head while she finished with her bra. As her husband called out to her from what I judged was ten feet or so away I whispered a crisp "I never want to see you again."
"Don't say that, please," she plead at the same decimal, a trace of pain in her voice.
"Honey I--oh *Sarah*, hi." It's almost a question. Like: "What the hell are you doing here? What the hell are you doing sitting on my bed next to my wife?" I could hardly speak to him.
"Hi John," I kept my head down.
"Are you two OK? You look like you've been crying." John had entered the room just as Lucia finished with the last button on her blouse.
"We watched a sad movie," I answered without thinking.
"It was very sad," Lucia added, more to me than him.
"I should be getting home."
"Oh you're leaving? Let me walk you to the door," she half pleaded.
"No that's ok. Stay here and catch up with your husband."
I walked as quickly as I could without arousing suspicion, but she caught up with me and stopped me from opening the door.
"You just like to have fun while you're husband's out? On to the next one now?" I whispered rapidly.
"That's not it at all. You mean so much to me--," she met my pace.
"That's why you lied to me?"
"I didn't think you would...I can't explain right now. Just please don't say you'll never see me again. I couldn't bare it, and I will make it up to you."
"And how are you going to make it up to him?" I asked. She stood there speechless, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Please get out of my way." She hesitated for a moment, then moved aside.
"Fuck," I said, turning back as she stood in the doorway, "I love you so much...and I mean nothing more to you than a sideways fuck."
She choked back her words, that moan of pain covering them. I turned around to walk away, but I didn't hear the door shut.
I made it back to my car, walking as fast as possible without running, then as I shut the door I put my head down on the steering wheel to cry. Heavy sobs kept coming. I couldn't believe I had just given myself to her so completely, when I had held back for so long, and then she had stripped it of all it's meaning, all it's truth and beauty.
I knew what I meant to her now. She lied to herself that it meant something so she wouldn't feel so guilty about having meaningless sex outside of her marriage. She would have to find that satisfaction with someone else: I couldn't love her that much and know how little it meant to her. She would destroy me that way.
Lucia's messages on my machine:
Next Sunday:
"Sarah...I feel so bad about lying to you: hurting you so much. Seeing what I did to you as you walked out my door...it broke my heart, Sarah. It tore me apart. I would give anything to go back there and not lie to you, even if that meant we couldn't have made love. And you don't know how hard that is to say: how hard it would be to trade what we had that afternoon for anything...Please call me back."
Three days later:
"Sarah, I want you to understand something. The way I was with you...I'm never like that. I never felt so open, I'm usually more reserved. It was just you. You make me feel so good, like I deserve pleasure. I just...I need you to know that.
Two days later:
"I told John what happened between us. I told him everything, including how I lied to you. He's not sure what he's going to do. I hurt everyone. I was so selfish. And now I'll lose both of you," she sobbed. "I understand why you can't get over this. I'll be waiting if you decide you'll give me another chance...I told John I won't give you up if you can ever forgive me."
And a few days later:
"Sarah? It's John. We need to talk. You owe me that. Saturday at noon, meet me at the pier...please."
My first impulse was "no." Why should I meet him? What did he think I owed him? I hadn't known: not that I could have stopped myself if I had. Maybe I did owe him. I forced myself to go on Saturday, though my nerves were making me nauseous. I knew what we did had hurt him, though I could not have known that it would and I didn't know how to help him now. I figured I could at least listen to what he had to say.
I saw him looking out over the lake, looking dismal and tired. I moved to stand beside him, looking over the lake as well, but I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything for a long moment either.
When he did speak I felt it was forced. "My wife says she told you I knew she planned to...and I had said it was ok?"
"Yeah. I didn't know John, I swear."
"Still, you do understand about marriage, right?"
"You could have had an open marriage."
"That's sick!"
"A lot of people don't think so."
"I'm not one of them."
"How was I supposed to know that?"