Author's Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you do not like it, do not read it. Thanks for any feedback, comments, votes or favorites. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer
: This particular fiction story contains adultery, drugs, and may contain terrible, terrible writing among many other things. All characters are eighteen or over if they are naked or sexual. This story has been re-submitted and tweaked for a second chapter that I had not totally intended to write.
Coincidentally By Design, Or: Chapter 1
"Never a moment's rest," he said aloud as he ran from the shower, the towel he held barely following along the way as he ran down the hall to the ringing phone. Still dripping, and seeing a number on the ID that he did not recognize, Albert had no choice but to answer.
"Hello?" he said with every ounce of question and dripping annoyance that he had.
"Uh... Hey, Alby. Um.. What are you doing right now?"
"Beulah?" Is everything all right? Are the kids OK?" Albert could not have been more confused or worried. His best friend-and-co-worker's wife was on the phone. Something could be wrong.
"Uh, yeah, it's me. Don't get worried, the kids are fine, but it is kind of an emergency though. So what are you doing right this instant?"
"Uh," Albert looked around as if he did not know what to say, and then stared at the puddle on the carpet along with the poorly tied towel he still held onto around his waist. "Nothing too terribly important. Just got home from work a little bit ago. Why, what's up, Bee?"
"I was wondering if you could let me in?" Beulah almost whispered into her end of the phone.
"Let you into where?" Surely she was not at his front door.
"Um... your apartment. It's kind of weird standing on the stoop on the phone when I could just speak to you."
"Didn't Steven leave on the certification trip this morning?" None of this was making any sense to Albert.
"He did, but this is kinds 'bout 'im." Her heavy accent went sheepish.
"Uh... I don't think that's a good idea Bee," Albert knew the rules. Never be alone with your friend's wife unless he says it is OK, and especially, never butt into their marriage.
"Please..." The sound of desperation was heard in Beulah's voice.
"Uh, ok, give me a sec, I guess I'll be right down," Albert's brain was telling of bad ideas and conversations from earlier in the week, but Albert was more concerned with wearing pants in front of his best friend's wife. He was still dripping when he opened the door.
Beulah stood on the opposite side of the solid door in all her glory, defeating the late setting sun in the background: She was wearing three inch heels and a short pleated black skirt accompanied by a high riding white tank top without a bra, nor one built in. Her light brown hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders, and she had gotten a tan since the last time they had seen each other at Steven and Beulah's daughter Kaylee's birthday party.
Had Albert not been stunned by the sight before him, he would have slammed the door closed; because he was stunned, Beulah pushed past his hanging jaw with a hand on his wet chest and was walking up the stairs before he could react. He cursed himself for not putting a shirt on.
"Bee, you shouldn't be here, you have to go-o..." He watched her naked bits below the pleated skirt while he still held the door open at the bottom of the stairs; she was not wearing underwear, and her plump lips were shaved.
His mouth was open again.
Albert had always been attracted to his co-worker's wife; attracted even before Steven and Beulah were married; attracted back when they were in school together, back when Beulah was Albert's best and only friend.
"Don't worry, Ms. Nelson has the kids until Steven gets back.
We
, you and me, we have to talk, it's important." Beulah had not turned to speak to Albert, instead continuing to walk up the carpeted steps with words over her shoulder.
When Beulah turned the corner at the top of the stairs and into his second floor apartment, Albert could swear she stuck out her rump since the pleats of the skirt were forced to twirl behind her body, exposing her crafted stockingless (yup) golden thigh.
Albert followed her path slowly; he was trying as hard as he could to remember something that was said in another conversation, but his mind was still blank and thinking only of the perfect naked ass he had just seen bare for the first time. Her rear end was shaped like an upside down heart.
By the time Albert had made it to the top of the stairs, Beulah was sitting cross legged on his L-shaped couch, dangling a pump off of the toe of the leg in the front. She must have gone to Albert's fridge, as there were two micro-brews sitting unopened and condensing on the table in front of her. She was lighting a joint as he approached.
"This isn't really an emergency, is it?" Albert was serious in his question despite the fuddled brain, and he was unsure if she had brought a purse.
"Nope'r." She said, ashing in a nearby houseplant.
"Um.. Bee, this is wrong... I mean Steven is my best friend." Albert looked frightened, and her brightening headlights almost froze his body.
"...and he's my husband. It's his own fault that I am here, anyway." Beulah said through held breath. Albert suddenly remembered a conversation - the one he thought was important - in full. It was the one that his brain was trying to remind him of.
"Oh no. No. Please don't do this." Not her, not this woman, this was wrong, even if it felt right. It was wrong all around, even if he was given permission.
He was no longer pacing, instead standing firm and separated from her body by only a glass table.
***
"Man, we got in such a fight this weekend." Albert had just finished telling Steven the details of the trip he would be taking on Friday, just before Steven had decided to talk about his personal life. Albert could never understand why Steven would fight with a woman like Beulah, let alone call her 'low class' as Steven often did.
