Battle for Her Soul

Thank you again to blackrandl1958 for her editing skill.

The Des Moines Symphony Orchestra sounded like it was in good form as it played Tchaikovsky's "1812 Overture."

Well, good form as far as Roman Blanchard was concerned. As far as he knew, the "1812 Overture" was the theme song to an old 1950s' television series he had seen several times on TV Land, called "The Lone Ranger."

Roman wasn't exactly the usual type of fan to be sitting at a DMSO concert. In fact, he wasn't a fan of what he jokingly called "long-hair" music. He was only there to accompany his gorgeous wife, who received a pair of tickets because her employer--the law firm of Bakehorn, Schermer, Schwartzman--was the evening's main sponsor. It was the kind of thing spouses often do for each other... taking one for the team. Roman sat quietly, sipping his double Maker's Mark on the rocks.

He looked sideways at his wife of 10 years and his heart skipped a beat, not an uncommon happening. At 34, Sylvie Blanchard was just coming into her best years, her husband felt. She was a classic Mediterranean beauty with big brown eyes, olive skin, long and lush dark brown hair and an hourglass figure topped with large, full breasts.

She possessed a sparkly personality and a quick wit, and was well thought of by most people who had the opportunity to get to know her. She seemed to be the rare woman who was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

She caught her husband looking at her and gave his hand a squeeze. He knew she was enjoying the concert, and he was hoping that would translate into a great night of lovemaking later.

When the concert ended, the 12 ticketholders from BSS met at 801 Chophouse for after dinner drinks, with Grantland Schwartzman, the third of the titular partners, serving as unofficial host. Schwartzman, tall, angular and athletic-looking at 45, was known as a true ladies' man, who

always

had a beautiful woman on his arm wherever he went. Coincidentally, he was also known as a very good attorney, and carried an air of superiority as if it were his birthright.

Schwartzman had attended the concert with a blonde Amazon goddess who could have been a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. She sat to his right, and Roman noticed the two empty seats just to his left. Sylvie apparently noticed the seats as well and headed directly for them, the hem of her mid-thigh length little black dress flouncing slightly with the rhythm of her walk. She waited for her husband to seat her in the chair next to Schwartzman, and Roman didn't miss Schwartzman give his wife a blatant once-over with his eyes.

Sylvie was never shy about showing off her lush body, and Roman never had a problem with other men--and women--enjoying the view, but if Roman were truthful with himself, he would have to admit he didn't like the way Schwartzman looked at his wife. He had expressed the opinion to his wife that he didn't trust the attorney as far as he could throw him.

Sylvie grinned when Roman said that, doubting seriously that her 5-9, 165-pound husband could even get the 6-4, 200-pound Schwartzman off the ground.

While almost everyone at the table seemed to be enjoying themselves, Roman sat quiet for the most part, shifting uncomfortably in his only suit. By trade, Roman was a landscaper and landscape designer and spent most of his life wearing jeans, work shirts and work boots. Although far from an ignorant man, most of Roman's conversations at work revolved around horticulture and sports. He didn't care much for the attorney shop talk and didn't care at all for the gossip. Following the advice of his father, since he didn't have anything constructive to say, he kept quiet.

Schwartzman hadn't hidden his disdain for Sylvie's husband during their few previous encounters. He towered over the man physically and in aura and figured he did in intelligence as well.

Most of the table was on their third drinks when Schwartzman looked at Roman and practically sneered, "So, are you going to spend your three days alone in your favorite sports bar next week?"

Roman's head jerked up in shock, his eyes first looking at Schwartzman before settling on his wife. Schwartzman knew he scored with that one, while Sylvie suddenly had to endure a death-glare from her husband.

"Thanks, Grant, for not making that too awkward," Sylvie hissed. "I hadn't gotten around to telling Rome about the trip yet."

"Don't put this on me, babe. Not my problem that you and the little guy don't communicate," Schwartzman said with a wide grin.

Sylvie heard Roman growl when her boss denigrated his height. Two slights within the span of a minute weren't going to help her cause.

When she got out of her head, Sylvie realized her husband was still glaring at her, while Schwartzman's date was giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Little guy, hahaha, little guy," the Amazon muttered.

"Uh... uh... I was going to tell you later tonight," Sylvie said in what was obviously a blatant lie. "Grant and I will be going to Denver for three days next week. Be gone Wednesday through Friday."

"Just you two?" Roman said quietly.

"Yeah," Sylvie said, barely above a whisper.

If looks could kill, Sylvie would have died on the spot. The visual exchange between the pair didn't go past Schwartzman, who looked like the cat who not only ate the canary, but got a side dish of eagle as well.

The moment Sylvie finished her drink, Roman took her hand, rose and bade the rest of the table good-night. Sylvie was surprised and embarrassed, but rose speechless.

"The night is young. Stay awhile longer. I just ordered another round," Schwartzman said, trying to sound innocent.

Roman never said a word in Schwartzman's direction, just squeezed his wife's hand harder and practically dragged her out of the restaurant. She tried to stammer out several farewells but only got as far as incoherent mumbling. She wasn't able to form coherent sentences until Roman's pick-up was several miles down the road.

"You insufferable prick!" she finally screamed. "You embarrassed the hell out of me in front of my friends, co-workers and boss! What the h..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Roman yelled over the top of Sylvie's screams. "You came within inches of being the first woman I've ever hit!

"When were you going to tell me about the trip... on your way out the door Wednesday morning? And I'm guessing you weren't planning on telling me about just you and jackfruit going."

"I told you, I was going to tell you later tonight. And, of course, I would have told you about just him and I going," Sylvie remarked.

"Yeah, I'm believing that," Roman said.

Roman knew that Sylvie was her firm's top paralegal, and as such, had to make several trips each year. While up until tonight he had trusted his wife, he certainly didn't trust Schwartzman's reputation. Tonight's ambush caused him to look hard at the trust he had placed in his wife.

Roman wasn't stupid or blind. He knew his wife was every bit the goddess Schwartzman's Amazon was, but unlike the Amazon, Sylvie also came equipped with a brain, although tonight it certainly didn't seem like that to him.

"What the hell was that shit going on tonight? Little guy? Your little guy? And you sat there like a fucking mute?" Roman accused.

"What did you want me to do? He's my boss..."

"I don't care what you do. Next time he calls me little guy, he's going to be eating my fist all the way to my fucking elbow," Roman said.

"You can't do that! He's my boss!" she bellowed.

"And I'm your fucking husband!"

Sylvie sat in shock. Never in their 10 years of marriage or 12 years together had Roman ever spoken to her with disrespect of that magnitude.

Sylvie knew Roman had a right to be concerned. Although Roman had no way of knowing what was happening in her office, she knew that Grant had started making a move on her, and she hadn't exactly been unreceptive. She felt her boss had been perhaps a nick too obvious tonight, especially when he insulted Roman by calling him the name he had previously only used among their private conversations.

Sylvie truly loved her husband, but Grant's persona and his looks were becoming harder to ignore. She found her pussy lubricating when the two were alone together in the office and Grant started lightly touching her arms, shoulders and back. It was only some harmless flirting, after all, she kept telling herself.

The next two days were uncomfortable in the Blanchard house. Roman was distant and quiet, and Sylvie felt that keeping silent was smarter than saying something that might start an argument. She had expressed her displeasure with Grant over his behavior Saturday night when they both got into their office on Monday morning.

"Don't ever call him little guy again in front of everyone," she hissed. "That could have gotten ugly Saturday night."

"I wouldn't have hurt him too badly," Grant said.

Both chuckled at that. Sylvie grew grim.

"Still, don't make that mistake again. I don't need the scene."

Sylvie got up early to give herself plenty of time for the early Wednesday morning flight to Denver. Roman was barely awake when she gave him a good-bye kiss and headed out the door.

Business went well on Wednesday and the client took Grant and Sylvie out for a nice meal that evening. Sylvie felt Grant looked extremely sharp in his expensive black suit, and she had coordinated with him by wearing a shimmering silver silk dress she knew Grant liked because it pulled tight over her large boobs. She caught him several times during the meal watching her boobs rise and fall as she breathed.

At the end of the evening, Grant took Sylvie's hand in his and walked her to her room, where he gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and left for his own room. He noticed the younger woman was breathing heavily and her skin was flushed when he left.

Thursday night, Grant and Sylvie went out on their own. After a nice dinner, the two hit a club that featured a live band and a dance floor. Sylvie noticed that Grant looked dashing in an Italian-cut navy-blue suit. She felt they made a handsome couple as she wore a tight, short red club dress, something she had only worn once before, as her husband wasn't really a club type of guy. The dress showed a fair amount of her ample breasts and finished up midway down her thighs. She was impressed when Grant didn't drool.

This time when the evening ended, Grant took Sylvie to his room, where he had a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. He poured for both of them.

A few minutes later, the pair was on a loveseat kissing and groping. Grant was the aggressor, but Sylvie wasn't pushing her boss away. His hands were big and strong as they roamed her body. Her body was responding. She didn't stop him as he slowly removed her dress, bra and panties, before taking off his own clothes. She reached down and with her right hand encircled the first hard dick in a dozen years that that didn't belong to her husband.

Grant was a skilled seducer, and he quickly had two fingers pistoning in and out of Sylvie's dripping snatch while the woman started moaning loudly. She came hard a minute later when he started rubbing his thumb on her engorged clitoris. She moaned into her boss's mouth as she came.

Grant pinched each of Sylvie's long, hard nipples as she finished her orgasm, then cupped her beautiful melons in his big hands. He crawled between her legs as she spread them wide, rubbed his hard dick on her slick lips and then pushed inside. Her loud moan of pleasure almost made him come, so he stopped halfway inside to get better control of himself. Once back in control, he finished pushing himself inside the woman and started a slow, sure rhythm.

Roman continually told his wife she had a body made for fucking, and she demonstrated this to her boss as they gathered speed, fucking back at him with gusto. Several minutes later she shrieked out a second orgasm, pushing Grant over the top with her as he grunted loudly. Grant rolled off to the side when he finished, and they lay together sweaty and panting. Sylvie was in her own little world for several minutes as she came down from her massive climax.

"That was every bit as good as I thought it would be," Grant whispered.

Sylvie smiled brightly and nodded her agreement. Grant placed several kisses on her neck and shoulders, then moved down and eagerly sucked on her nipples. When he moved back up to kiss her, she reached for his semi-flaccid dick and jerked him back to full hardness. Grant lay down on his back and pulled Sylvie on top of him. She slowly impaled herself on his hardness, letting out a groan when Grant's dick nudged her cervix.

Grant was like a kid in a candy store as he played with Sylvie's large breasts while she gleefully bounced on his cock. Every now and then he would lift his upper body off the bed to put a nipple in his mouth and suck on a boob.

Sylvie's moans and groans increased to wails while she continued to bounce. Finally, she threw her head back, her eyes rolled up and she stiffened in a huge climax. Grant kept fucking her hard through the beginning of the orgasm, but slowed his pace as she started to regain her composure. Once she acknowledged to him that she was back, Grant restarted his faster movements, and minutes later he blew his second load into the woman with a roar.

After a quick clean-up with a towel, the pair lay together on the bed, Sylvie's head on Grant's chest and a leg thrown over his. She made cooing noises while he stroked her hair.

The pair made slow, sweet love in the morning before going to the clients for the final meeting. They were on a plane back to Des Moines in the early afternoon, both with big smiles.

Sylvie got home and had dinner on the stove when Roman came in the door. They gave each other a soft kiss on the lips before he headed upstairs to get changed. Sylvie smiled inside, knowing her husband had no idea that she had what she considered the best sex of her life the day before. She felt not the slightest amount of guilt.

Things slowly got back to normal in the Blanchard house. Roman kept a watchful eye for several weeks but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Knowing her husband as well as she did, Sylvie made very sure that

nothing

was out of the ordinary, even if in reality that ordinary now saw she and Grant fucking once or twice every week.

Sylvie was very clear with Grant that he was to be cool with her husband at the BSS Christmas party in a few days. He assured her he would be on his best behavior. She just didn't realize that her definition of best behavior was different than his.

Sylvie looked absolutely stunning in the emerald green strapless gown she wore to the Christmas party. She wore a strapless bra that held her large breasts up high and provided everyone a good look at what Grant called "her twin towers."

"Holy shit, that's certainly not subtle," Roman said when Sylvie came downstairs after dressing. "You're not going to win any friends among the women at the party... although I'm not sure how I'm going to keep the guys off you without a baseball bat. You sure you want to wear that?"

As expected, heads turned when Sylvie and Roman walked into the party. To be truthful, not many people realized Roman was even there, once again in his only ill-fitting suit.

Under normal circumstances, Roman would have let Sylvie do her usual mingling while he stayed off to the side and watched, but not when she was dressed as provocatively as she was. He stuck to his wife like a brand-new strip of Velcro, prompting her at one point to tell him he was being overbearing.

"That dress is being overbearing, babe. I'm just here as your protection detail," Roman said.

His wife openly grimaced, but didn't argue.

Several times throughout the evening, Roman caught Grant obviously smirking at him, not looking at his wife. That made Roman even more uncomfortable as the night went on.

A couple of hours into the evening, Sylvie asked her husband to get her another glass of wine, so for one of the few times on the night Roman left her side. The bar area was crowded, and Sylvie knew it would take a while for him to return. Almost as if from nowhere, Grant appeared, took her hand and the two moved off into an unused cloakroom.

Roman knew it was going to be a while before he got back to his wife, but luck prevailed when he saw a second bartender make his way behind the bar. He walked directly over to the new man, becoming the first to be served and saving himself at least 10 minutes. He got Sylvie's wine and a beer for himself and headed back to where he left his wife... except she was no longer there. Roman took a quick look around and noticed Grant was nowhere in sight as well, so he decided it was time to take a tour.

Roman was far from an innocent, and immediately started checking in near-by closets. He heard the sounds of two people making out before he silently opened the door of the cloakroom. He saw exactly what he heard, and from the looks of Grant's hands on his wife's ass and how far down her throat Grant's tongue was, it was obvious this was not the first time the two had been involved.

The two were so intent they never heard Roman walk into the room, nor heard him quietly leave after he talked himself out of wringing both of their necks. He moved off into the main room and watched the door to see their return. Grant walked in a few minutes later, looked around quickly and walked over to his date for the evening. Sylvie followed several minutes later, having obviously touched up her makeup first. Roman watched her for a minute before he approached her with her glass of wine.

"Killer line, babe. Sorry it took me so long," Roman said innocently.

"No problem, sweetie. I was just hanging around talking," she replied.

Roman was amazed at how easily his wife had just lied to his face. It was a lesson he would remember.

A full dinner was served minutes later, complete with speeches from the partners. The band came back after dinner, and couples starting hitting the dance floor. Roman knew his wife would have to do a fair amount of dancing with other men, but he kept close watch on her and would cut in if any of her partners tried for more than two straight dances. She quickly grew weary of her husband's attentions, and let him know it.

"Rome, the guard dog act is getting old," she said the third time her husband cut in on her dancing.

"Not old enough, babe. Not old enough."

Grant danced with Sylvie several times throughout the night, but kept it to just one dance each time, and he always made sure to smirk at Roman after each dance. Roman noticed that several of the firm's secretaries always seemed to pay special attention to the dance floor when Sylvie and Grant were together. Roman might not have had the educational chops of the fancy lawyers, but life had provided him with good lessons. The twittering secretaries fueled his belief that his marriage had a problem.

Sylvie didn't seem to have a care in the world and completely enjoyed her evening without fully picking up on Roman's discomfort. She was more than a little tipsy by the end of the party and started pawing her husband on the ride home, not an unusual occurrence. Despite the fact that he was increasingly angry with his wife, Roman was still a red-blooded man, and was not immune to the wiles of his incredibly sensual wife. The sex that night seemed fantastic to both parties. Sylvie didn't object to Roman being noticeably more physical than usual; in fact, from her standpoint it was just what the doctor ordered.

Roman's boss had been divorced and remarried several years ago, so Roman had a ready resource for help when he got to work Monday morning. With two phone calls, Roman had a divorce lawyer and a private investigator watching his wife.