Tom didn't come home.
Julie waited up late into the night, her phone gripped tightly waiting for something, anything. When it became clear near midnight that Tom wasn't going to answer his phone and wasn't going to be coming back, she opened the Find My Phone app and searched out her husband's location.
He was at a hotel downtown.
A hotel.
This had made Julie sit down slowly on the couch, staring at the little icon on the map screen. Why would he be at a hotel? She thought about it so long and hard while biting her lip that it started to bleed. Finally she got the courage and called the hotel, asking if a, Tom Merrick was staying there. She wasn't really sure if hotels were allowed to give that information out, but either they were or the front desk receptionist didn't care.
"Yes. He's in room 302. Would you like me to ring his room?"
"Yes, please." She hoped her voice didn't sound strangled. The phone rang on the other end for a minute and each tone that came through the line sent a jolt through Julie's bones. Finally, the phone was picked up.
"H...hel...hello?" It was a female voice. Groggy. Disoriented.
Julie didn't say anything. Her breath stopped. Her heart skipped.
"Is someone there?" The voice grumbled.
She let the phone drop from her ear and pressed the End Call button.
Tom was in a hotel with another woman. But...but why? A chill ran through Julie's stomach. Her eyes suddenly felt hot and tears were dripping down her cheeks. What the fuck was going on?
-- --
My head was throbbing. "Fuck..." I muttered, sitting up in a bed that was way too soft to be mine. The room was blurry as I rubbed my eyes, trying to rid it of the crusty eye boogers that had made their home in the corners of my vision.
I was in a hotel room.
Okay. That's not too surprising. I wasn't about to go home right now. Facing Julie was... it was too much. My brain was revolting against my dick. It would be too easy to slip back to the life that I'd found myself in, and I didn't want it. I had to build up a resistance. I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and how I could do it. And what even IT was.
I let myself fall back onto the bed, which wasn't a great idea because it made my head bounce and my blazing headache worse. It was then I realized... I was naked. There were marks on my chest. I smelled like stale sweat and something else.
"You okay?"
The voice made me jolt up, despite the pain in my brain. My eyes latched onto the bathroom door that was now open and Scary Carrie was standing there drying her hair with a fluffy white towel. Besides the towel... she was naked.
My eyes flowed over her body like the droplets escaping from her hair as she rubbed the towel over her head. Her breasts were perky, the size of a melon with large dark nipples. She had a pear-shaped figure, slimming down along her waist and then flaring out with lovely hips. A light trail of auburn hair led the eyes to her plump lipped vagina. Her thighs were strong and slightly thick. A rush of blood went down south and I grabbed the tangled bedsheets to cover my emerging morning erection.
Carrie stared at me with her eyebrow raised, completely unembarrassed about being buck ass naked in front of her married coworker.
"I...uh...um..." I stammered like I was some pimply faced boy at the homecoming dance.
She cracked a smile. "Geez, you must have really been wasted last night if you're looking at me like you've never seen me naked. You got a pretty good look last night." She turned with a laugh, her magnificent ass jiggling as she went back into the bathroom for a second, coming back out with another towel, drying off her back.
I watched her. Unable to look away for a plethora of reasons. One, she was hot. I'd always known Carrie was good looking, but she'd been hiding some of her assets, it seemed. Second, she was so casual about this. Why? Third... Why in the world was I in a hotel room with Scary Carrie?
Too many questions and my brain was moving too slow. What happened last night? I shut my eyes trying to think through what happened after we left the office. We went to The Glass Half Full, a bar in downtown that was a hotspot for after work hangouts and networking with clients. Their drinks were decent if a little overpriced, but the atmosphere was friendly and clean, which was saying a lot compared with other bars downtown.
I massaged my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to push the pain in my skull away so I could remember...
-- --
Me and Carrie were at the bar. Doing shots. Three in and I was already feeling a heavy buzz. I hadn't eaten much and mixing an empty stomach with booze made for bad choices. Like opening my mouth too much and talking.
Oh, shit, did I tell Carrie about...
No... no. I didn't. A little relief flooded through me, but the night came back, drifting up through the murky haze of my memory that was tinted with alcohol and frustration.
"Seriously?" Carrie had stared at me, leaning close as we sat at the bar after slamming down our fourth shot.
I was nodding as I twirled the shot glass around on the bar before the bartender came over and snatched it so I couldn't break it. "Yep." I muttered. My words were a little sluggish. "Over a month."
"Fuck that!" Carrie groaned. "I don't think I could go a full week without getting fucked." She grabbed a plastic stirrer from a glass behind the counter and stuck it in her mouth, chewing it like some country bumpkin might chew on a stalk of wheat.
I groaned and put my forehead against my arms on the bar. "It's fucking torture. I mean, you know I can do things myself, but it's not the same." It didn't even occur to me that talking so openly about my sex life, or lack thereof, wasn't a good idea. Especially with a coworker.
Carrie patted my back. "I get it. Dildos and vibes are nice, but no substitute for a good cock." She twirled the end of the stirrer around her finger.
"Are we gonna have to have a talk with HR tomorrow? Is this sexual harassment?" I lifted my head and put my cheek in my hand, giving Carrie a goofy grin.
She rolled her eyes. "Off the clock Tommy Boy. We can talk about anything we want. Sex is a part of life. And if you're not getting any, 'specially when you're married, then that's something that's gonna be a big deal."
I nodded and sighed, then put my face in my hands. "I hate to say it. It's such a guy thing. But I'm fucking horny, Carrie. Think it's fogging up my brain. Work feels like I'm trying to wade through molasses."
Carrie looked away towards the mirror behind the bar, lined with all the various bottles of alcohol, specials written in colorful markers on the mirror and polaroids of customers and a few that were circled in red, a note saying Do Not Serve written in red lipstick. "Can't you go home? I mean, is something wrong or..." As buzzed as Carrie seemed, she wasn't clueless.
"Something like that. We are..." I tried to think of the best way to say, I've been replaced in my marriage by a fat, big dicked, bastard and it's all my fault. I lost control. I allowed my wife to slip away and give into pure unadulterated sexual pleasure and convinced her I was okay with it. Convinced myself that I was okay with it. But thanks to some sort of stupid God sent epiphany, I realize that as fun and erotic as all of this has been... I just want my wife back. I want my marriage. I want what I had that I didn't realize was perfect until it was dragged through the mud. Now I'm trying to pull myself out of the mud pit and clean myself off, but I don't know how. I don't know if there's a hose strong enough to wash it all away.
"We are taking a break." I finally muttered and sat up, giving my cheeks some sharp slaps to help me sober up.
"Hmmm." was all Carrie said and then waved to the bartender for another shot.
Like the flowing alcohol, the night from there shifted and rippled. It was a blur of drinking, laughing, and then leaving the bar. I needed to find a hotel and though we weren't wasted or even really drunk, we certainly weren't safe to drive. Carrie asked if she could come with me, crash on the extra bed. Seemed like a reasonable idea. And having company instead of going and wallowing in a hotel room all alone seemed like a lot better choice.
Okay, so Carrie came with me. Fair enough. Drinking and driving was a stupid idea, so getting a place to crash was sensible. Though she could have called an Uber or something. But why waste the money, seemed to be her reasoning.
Okay. Okay. She just came to crash in the room with me. And she was naked because she took a shower. Okay. That wasn't such a big deal. And the fact she was so free with her body and unembarrassed wasn't something I could hold against her. Some people were just more comfortable with their bodies than others. Obviously, I wasn't one of them. Before all of this mess with Devon, I never even changed in a locker room in front of other men. Not exactly because of embarrassment, it was more of a feeling like they were judging me. The watchful eyes of the judgemental.
It'd taken several times of watching Julie fuck and get fucked by Devon before I finally pulled my cock out and masturbated. That had been somewhat of a revelation. But instead of being liberating, it had been humiliating. It should have felt good. It should have been freeing and exciting. Instead, I'd felt dirty and worthless and neglected.
All those feelings and then some were being tossed around inside me like a dryer set on max spin.
