Chapter 07 (The Bachelorette Party: Kelly's Last Dance)
Disclaimer: This story is about an unfaithful wife. That means she cheats on her husband. Yes, it also means she is a whore, and you can probably think of many other names to call her and fiendish fantasy's you wish to be imposed upon her. But here's a guide: (a) if you like stories about cheating wives, please read on; I hope you enjoy; (b) if you really, really, really don't like stories about cheating wives, then the "back" button is a quick click away; or (c) if you SAY you don't like stories about cheating wives but way deep down inside you really DO, read on and at the end of the story rate it as a "zero," then hit the "leave public comment" button and enter your flame therein. Better yet, if you choose option (c), enter your public comment anonymously; after all, that's what the "wimp-hubby" would do, isn't it? Oh, and please forgive the oxymoron – public versus anonymous – but you're just full of contradictions, aren't you?
Dan had not heard from Kelly in months. He had hooked up with her two or three times since she had related the story about Miami, but since then, not a word. She usually called him within a few weeks after last seeing him, but her call never came. In December, he figured that the holiday season had tied her up, and he let it go for a while. But when January rolled around and he still had not heard from her, he tried her cell phone. Getting her voicemail, he left a message, and then another a few weeks later. A third attempt, made in late February, informed Dan that her cell phone had been deactivated. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'the little whore got religion.'
She did, in a way.
In early April, Dan got a call from Dave Jacobs. Dave had gone to USC with Dan, Marc and Ryan, but did not really socialize much with them. He was engaged to be married this summer, and spent most of his time with his fiancé and her friends. When he called, Dave suggested that he and Dan get together for drinks after work on the upcoming Thursday, and Dan readily agreed, just to catch up with Dave.
When Thursday rolled around, Dan left his office in the Loop and grabbed a cab up to John Barleycorn on Lincoln Avenue, right by DePaul. He found Dave at a table talking to a guy who was vaguely familiar to him. He approached the table and Dave looked up and saw him coming.
"Dan, what's up?" he said, extending his hand. "It's been a long time."
"Too long, my friend. How's everything goin'?"
"Not bad, not bad. Hey, this is Mike. Mike, this is Dan. Mike and I used to work together before I left the meat grinder." Dan's throat constricted upon realizing why he recognized the guy with Dave. He'd seen him at a charity event several months ago, the delicious Kelly on his arm. He'd seen pictures of him in his bedroom, his office, in the house he shared with his adulterous wife. More often than not, when he saw these pictures, Dan's cock was buried in Kelly's dripping, bald cunt, ensconced in her wet mouth, her shiny lips leaving trails of saliva along his shaft, or trapped between her massive, sweaty tits, her wedding and engagement rings hovering inches from his engorged cock.
"Good to meet you, Mike." Dan extended his hand, which Mike accepted.
"You, too." Turning back to Dave, Mike continued, "I gotta run, Dave. Good to catch up with you. I'll let you know how it turns out." Mike MacGuire said his good-byes and departed.
His chest still pounding, Dan took a seat and ordered a Sierra Nevada from the waitress. His heart rate had returned to normal by the time it arrived.
"Jesus," Dave said. "I feel sorry for that guy. You would not believe the story he just told me. Listen to this. The guy's been married a few years, okay? A real hottie, if you ask me. Beautiful face, porn star body. I knew her when I was still working with Mike. She worked with us, but on a different team. Typical office romance: they date, get engaged then married, and have a kid. Everything's going great. He makes partner, pulling in tons of cash, and they buy a walk-up in Lincoln Park and renovate it. So he's out of town on business a few months ago, and ends up in Denver through Sunday. He gets home Sunday morning, and guess what he finds?"
Dan, of course, could easily guess what Mike MacGuire found when he got home. His seemingly innocent wife was probably impaled on a thick cock, her distended nipples gripped tightly between the fingers of her fuck-toy, filth spewing from her luscious lips. This story also explained why he hadn't heard from Kelly in several months. But he said, "I dunno. What's he find?"
"His wife is passed out on their bed. The room's a mess, sheets ripped halfway off the bed. She's naked as the day she was born, and – I'm reading between the lines here, because Mike didn't give me all the details – but it seems there's no question that she had recently been fucked. Turns out the bitch was cheating on him."
"Jesus Christ," Dan muttered. "Sucks for that guy."
"No shit. And apparently, this was not the first time. I guess she confessed that this was a routine thing for her. And not just recently. Mike said it goes back to before they were married, even before they were engaged. Sounds like this chick is nothing but a whore."
"Well, you can't really argue with that." 'I certainly can't,' Dan thought to himself, knowing full well the extent of Kelly's corruption and depravity, having been on the receiving end of it so many times. "So what did he do?"
"Kicked her out," Dave continued, taking a pull from his beer. "He filed for divorce immediately and got temporary custody of their daughter. He thinks the divorce should be pretty quick, given her history of fucking around on him. Stupid bitch even admitted all of it an e-mail to him."
"When did all this shit go down?"
"Right before Christmas, I guess. Merry fuckin' Christmas, huh?" Dave quipped, downing the rest of his beer.
Dan and Dave stayed at John Barleycorn for a few hours, catching up on their lives. Around 9:00 they parted ways, and Dan made his way home. He took a shower and hit the couch to watch SportsCenter for a while before going to bed. But he couldn't really concentrate on the television, instead wondering where Kelly was and what she was doing.
He felt sorry for her, in a way. Not that she didn't deserve what had happened. She was completely faithless, and was blatant in the way she trampled her wedding vows. Still, she was generally a good person, kind and thoughtful. Unfortunately for Kelly, her one flaw – a complete lack of sexual morals – was a major one, and it seemed to have finally caught up with her, wrecking her family in the process.
Introspectively, Dan felt an almost suffocating guilt for his part in Kelly's downfall, and that of her family. Certainly, he could rationalize away his role in the process. It wasn't like he led her astray. By her own admission, she had been cheating on Mike since the day they started dating. And it was Kelly that started the ball rolling that summer night that seemed so long ago, when she and Dan shared a cab from Bucktown to Lincoln Park.
And even had he repelled her advances that night, Dan knew that she would not have remained faithful. Kelly MacGuire, as innocent and classically beautiful as she appeared, was a slut. Married or not, with child or without, she would have willingly spread her legs and admitted almost any man, no matter his age, race, color or creed. Dan was merely a tool to her, and if he hadn't obliged her, someone else would have.
But it had finally caught up with her, and she was presumably on her own now. Dan's thoughts returned to her whereabouts and what she was doing with her life, but quickly moved onto another question: under what circumstances did Kelly MacGuire's infidelity come to light?
* * *
There was a girl named Donna. She was one of Kelly's best friends from high school. Donna lived in New York City with her fiancé, and was getting married in Palm Beach just after New Years Day. A few Saturdays before Christmas, Donna and some of her New York friends flew into Chicago for the weekend for her bachelorette party.
As was to be expected, Lisa, Kelly's maid-of-honor, made all the arrangements for the party. She rented out the basement of Stanley's in Lincoln Park for a few hours, and sent invitations to thirty or so girls. Even when compared to Donna's permissive nature, Lisa was a wild woman. So it was no surprise to anyone that Lisa had arranged for some male entertainment to appear toward the end of the party.
Mike was in Denver on business that weekend. He had tried to get back Friday afternoon, but a few last-minute issues arose, keeping him there. He called Kelly on Friday to tell her that he wouldn't be back until Sunday afternoon. She was counting on him coming home so he could take care of Evelyn while she was at the bachelorette party; now, she didn't know what to do with Evelyn at this late date. But she hung up with Mike and called Esmerelda, their part-time nanny, and Esmerelda agreed to watch Evelyn Saturday night. That taken care of, Kelly went about her day.
Esmerelda arrived Saturday afternoon around 4:00. While Kelly was getting ready for the evening, the nanny played with Evelyn and did a little cleaning around the house. She had just finished with the kitchen when she heard Mrs. MacGuire's heels on the stairway, descending from the second floor. She left the kitchen and met Kelly in the living room at the front of the house.
Kelly was standing before a vanity mirror, her bright red fingernails holding a tube of red lip gloss, smearing it across her lips. Esmerelda took in the sight of her boss. She stood atop four-inch Manolo Blahnik heels. Her trim legs, hips and ass were squeezed into body-hugging Seven jeans. As she leaned toward the mirror, applying the lip gloss, a simple diamond pendant swung from her elegant neck. Her large breast hung from her chest, covered by a white tank top.
Kelly slipped the lip gloss into a Prada handbag, and reached for a navy blue blouse that was resting on the table below the mirror. As she swung the blouse around her, slipping her arms into it, Esmeralda saw the printing on the front of Kelly's tank top: "yes . . . they're real," it said. Kelly closed the blouse over her chest, as Esmerelda thought, 'Puta. How can a respectable mother dress like that?'
"Alright, Esmerelda. I'm off," she announced, pulling a Burberry coat from the closet. "I might be late, but should be home by one or two, at the latest."
"Yes, Mrs. MacGuire."
