There is no sex in this story.
It's cold in Minnesota during the winter especially when you're used to the mild weather of Virginia. But it's even colder when you're sleepless and alone.
I'm just feeling sorry for myself. God knows I've got it better than most and it's ridiculous for me to feel like this. Still, I do, and even though I'm keeping it together, without the kids and my sister, I would have been ready to be locked up in a nice, white, padded cell.
My life is full of hows. How is it a basically intelligent person can act so stupid? How did I miss so many clues? How could I go around acting like life was a fairy tale?
It started with the girl or at least it seemed to start that way.
Karen was pretty, but there are lots of pretty women around. It was because she was young, fun, and -- most importantly at that time -- she was into me. That might not seem like a lot to qualify her as someone to screw your life up over, but it had been a long time since I'd gotten that kind of attention.
I was a chubby hubby, not a bad looking thirty-nine-year-old but a tired one. Formerly handsome, now pudgy, though still sporting a full head of dark curly hair. Deep, dark, brown eyes and easy laugh or not, women didn't flirt with a man wearing a gold band and surrounded -- at least most of the time -- by a pack of loud and anxious children; I've gotten a few nods from housewives and pats on the head by nearsighted grandmothers, but in each case the attention was sympathy not desire.
It wasn't a midlife crisis, just a hoping for a scrap of something different in my life -- a change from the usual schedule of carpools and teacher conferences and bagged lunches. Was it too much to ask for just one hour of flirting with a hot blonde in a slinky, red, half dress/half negligee wraparound who smelled like some exotic jasmine essence? The smell was distilled from sex and fantasy, not the reliable Chanel #5 from that liter jug-like vase on my wife's vanity.
Of course I was tipsy and Karen acted buzzed. The bar was a trendy restaurant/bar, but because of construction that had closed down the parking garage and the street outside it was almost abandoned. Aside from the staff, three couples, a scaly looking guy in a booth and another guy who was talking to himself at the bar it was just Karen and I.
The temptation was there, but I loved my wife. So normally it wouldn't have mattered except for the alcohol. To be honest tipsy had come and gone a couple shots ago. The whole point was not to think. But my life was still looking awfully pathetic and contemptible when the blonde bought me a drink.
Cheating wasn't anything I wanted to do, but flirting wasn't a crime. Honestly, my goal was to come as close to cheating as possible without doing anything to screw up my life. This was the tequila at work though. That and two weeks of sexual deprivation. But kids or not, Chanel #5 or not, lackluster, irregular sex or not, it was losing my job that made Karen attractive.
When you're fucked up this bad you had three choices, sit there and whine to the bartender, kill your boss or get laid.
My boss was a nice guy though and he had been fired just as thoroughly as I had. Also there didn't seem to be much point in talking and sex was not going to happen at home. So the rule had led me to Karen, this twenty-three-year-old, hazel-eyed temptress with fine long blonde hair that hung down past her shoulders, the kind you could twist your hands into during a slow teasing blowjob.
My wife had short brunette hair and it was fine. Still in my fantasies this was the kind of girl I wanted. Maybe it was a fetish, but ever since I was thirteen, blondes had dominated my fantasies. Just being close to Karen brought all those fantasies bubbling to the surface.
My downfall had been letting Karen convince me to feel how her new conditioner made her hair so soft. Once my hands were on her I didn't want to let go. Twenty years disappeared in the kiss that followed. Lost in memories of hot, meaningless high school sex, I raped Karen's mouth even as she stroked my bulge and pulled me in closer.
"Damn, that was a kiss," I said panting heavily.
Karen smiled, took a shot and leaned in to share. I waved her off still sucking wind from the kiss still tasting the tequila and the cinnamon from the breath strip she took before the last shot.
"Let's not screw this up with a lot of talk." She rubbed her fingers over my belt clasp. "So are you going to come back to my apartment and fuck me or am I going to have to rape you here?"
Her hand wormed under my waistband, fondling and fingering her way through a progression of chords that left me weak. Feeling my prick surging, she leaned in until her lips were over mine, sucking my hot breath deep inside her.
"So, need more convincing?" Her smile lit her face with that horny, young, promiscuous look you see on the women in beer commercials. "Jeff, I don't want you to rush this, but I'm really, really horny."
"Me too." My body was so ready. Just a minute of hard jerking would get me off. "But..."
Karen kissed me again, her tongue flitting over my lips as she slowly jerked my cock.
Fuck was she hot, but this was as close to cheating as it got and it was time to stop. "It's not that I don't want to. It would be great. Really great, but I'm married... not just married, very married."
