I could feel heads turning all around me as I walked through the crowded banquet hall.
Not that I was bothered. It's something a girl gets used to when she grows up with certain features. Whether they think they're being sneaky or are too brazen to care either way, the movement of eyes darting to your ass or chest as you pass by is far more obvious than most men believe.
And tonight I could hardly blame them. I'd broke the bank for the outfit I wore on this particular evening - or, more specifically, broke the bank of my husband Kyle. It was perhaps a little *too* low-cut, a little *too* short at the bottom, and maybe just a tad too tight... but I'd promised Kyle sex after the banquet if he bought it for me. Needless to say, I left the store with what I wanted.
Another contribution to the stares I was receiving was wonderment at the stark contrast between myself and my husband. Not many people expect the scrawny, weak-jawed and nervous looking man wearing a suit two sizes too large to walk in the room hand-in-hand with someone like me. Not to be too full of myself, but it's simply a fact - a 23 year old girl with long brown hair, bright blue eyes, a petite 5'2" stature with a plump butt and D cup tits would usually be the partner of an actor or model. But despite all expectations, I was married to Kyle.
I was only 19 when I met my future husband. As a recent college dropout, I was working at Starbucks trying to make ends meet when a nervous but sweet customer asked for my number. At first I accepted his date invitations simply out of kindness, but as time went on I began to notice the abundance of cash he always carried and realized I may have found my meal ticket for life. I've honestly never been that type of girl, but my late teens were filled with partying, sex and experimenting. I conceded that it may be time to settle down, and began my mundane but comfortable life with Kyle.
I was Kyle's first sexual partner, and the sex was never anything to write home about. Fortunately, when a guy has no experience he also tends to have low expectations. After about a year the sex frequency died off to once a month or so, and even then it was usually ten minutes of missionary before Kyle finished into a tissue and I rolled over to sleep.
He would occasionally ask for more, but I convinced him that our sex was typical and that the sex he saw in porn was just fantasy, that no couple actually does that crazy stuff. Sometimes I felt bad that I was depriving Kyle of what I knew I could give him, but he simply did nothing for me sexually. Skinny arms, a pudgy gut and an average length but skinny penis were not enough to turn me on. Eventually, I simply accepted the loss of my sex life.
But then came the banquet.
I was used to attending work functions with Kyle, and it was always the same old story. Awkward conversations, fake laughter and brown-nosing the old higher-ups for prestige. After about an hour I could take no more, and I excused myself from Kyle's side with a kiss and found a comfortable place to stand by the drink bar, the perfect place to drown my boredom in alcohol.
I was ordering my fourth vodka and juice concoction when a tall figure strolled up beside and leaned onto the bar. I glanced over instinctively, then back in front of me... and then right back again.
*Wow*.
The man next to me was practically a masterpiece. Tall, with biceps you could see through his suit jacket, and a smile that made my heart leap. Indeed, he was flashing that smile at me the moment he walked up to the bar, and I could immediately feel the blood rushing to my cheeks. I gave him an awkward smile in response then quickly looked away once more, busying myself with my purse before I could make a fool of myself. The man let out a small chuckle at my frantic behaviour.
"Didn't mean to startle you."
His voice was so smooth - deep, a bit cocky. Lovely.
I glanced over from my purse and finally caught my breath. "Not at all," I said with a slight grin, "just a couple too many drinks already, I suppose."
"It's never too many at one of these work events - whiskey, neat" he added to the bartender, as my drink was placed in front of me, "and I'll pay for the lady's drink as well."
"You're too kind," I said, blushing even more, "but really, that's alright - I'm paying with my husband's card, anyway." I assumed I was being hit on, and the mention of my husband would deter the man from pursuing me - as attractive as he looked leaning over the bar with that beautiful smile, I was a faithful wife and know to cut these kind of things off early.
Surprisingly, the man didn't look at all fazed when I mentioned that I was taken. If anything he grinned even more. "Well, perhaps we should go easy on your husband's credit card. Things aren't looking so great with the latest accounts report, from my understanding."
Oh. So this guy knew who I am. And who Kyle is. He wasn't wrong - a new guy at the firm had recently stolen one of Kyle's biggest clients, and upper management had taken notice. I'd heard all about it, spending many nights falling asleep with Kyle ranting about the new asshole at work that all the higher-ups were in love with.
"Well," I looked away from the man's piercing, dark eyes and took a nervous gulp, "we're doing alright for now."
"Regardless, this one is on me. And speak of the devil, how are ya tonight Kyle?"
I looked over to see my husband had slid up beside me. He took the man's outstretched hand but I noticed he was gazing at me nervously.
"Alright, thanks. You met my wife?"
"That I did. Though I haven't yet caught her name."
"Sarah. And yours?" I reached out and shook the man's hand. His grip was firm. His hands dwarfed mine. I couldn't help but notice that my husband looked like a child in comparison, nervously biting his lip while the man whose hand grasped mine stared unwavering into my eyes.
"Chris. Chris Rogers."
And instantly I understood why my husband was so disheveled. This was the guy - the hot new pick up that was stealing clients and rapidly rising up the ranks at my husband's workplace. I finally had a face to match the name that I had been hearing so much about - and what a gorgeous face it was.
"Well Chris," I looked at my husband and saw the pleading in his eyes - I could tell from his expression that he was silently urging me to walk away from his rival. "It was nice to meet you. And thanks for the drink."
"Not at all. And here," Chris reached into his pocket and with a swift motion pulled out a business card, "why don't you put this in your purse and keep it safe so Kyle here has no more excuses? I've been offering to take him out and help with his golf game for a month, but he must keep losing my number."
Kyle's face turned red, and with one more smile and a pat on my husband's shoulder, Chris disappeared into the crowd. I stared as he walked away, absent-mindedly spinning the card in my hand, until my husband's voice snapped me back to reality.
"Throw that thing in the trash. What a jerk... he thinks he can act like that towards you in front of me. One of these days I'm going to give him a piece of my mind..."
I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. But as he turned back to lead me towards the party, I slipped the card into my purse. Something about the combination of vodka and the thought of Chris' perfect face just wouldn't let me throw the number away...
***
A few hours later, our cab arrived home and I collapsed onto the bed. I was quite drunk, but my heart was racing thinking about the encounter I'd had earlier in the evening and I could not pass out. Though I'd only met Chris for a few minutes, something about the way he looked at me made me feel as if he was reading my mind, and that we'd somehow connected on a level that I could not understand. What was going on with me?
I heard Kyle enter the room behind me and begin to undress. I knew what was coming next and was dreading it. He slid into bed next to me but I closed my eyes tight, pretending to be asleep. He began to rub my ass through my dress, but I casually pulled the blanket over my body to deter his advances. He laid down flat and began to kiss my face, but I twisted it to the opposite direction.
