Plan C 1

This story was an experiment. We've been reading stories on Literotica for some time, but this is the first erotic story that we've ever written. We hope you enjoy the story as much as we've enjoyed the works of other Literotica authors.

If you're looking for a fuck-me-now story, this isn't it. There are some cliff hangers here, but it isn't intended to be a tease. If you like a slow burn, and a bit of suspense, then if you stick with the series we think you'll be glad you did. You'll also find that it also isn't your typical cheating wife story, but we're not making any promises about how things turn out either! As many others have said, if you don't like the genre, style, or subject matter, then we hope you find one you do.

_Update_

We've fixed one or two minor errors based on reader feedback. We've also changed the title so it's clear that there is more to come. Thanks for your comments, especially from the people who are able to give constructive criticism without being mean about it. For those folks who said that the transition was too abrupt, we'll just say that you may be assuming something we've only implied. You'll have to read Phase 1 to see what that means.

******

Sarah looked at her watch. Almost eight. Over the last hour and a half she had gone from bemused to annoyed to pissed off to hurt and back again several times. Right now she was just feeling resigned. Her mobile rang. "Hi, baby. I am so so sorry. Jack had a couple of things to go over with me, and then I needed to catch the rest of the team before they went off to party."

She decided to play it cool. After all, it was rare to have this time away from the children; why spend those precious moments arguing? "It's OK, I'll get over it. I'm sure you can find a way to make it up to me."

She said this with a light wink in her voice -- thinking that would get him out of the corporate office and over to the hotel lounge just that much quicker. Maybe they'd still have time to have a couple of drinks together before the concert started. She had just about salvaged the situation in her mind when Cedric ruined it again. "So, yeah.. that's just it. I'll have to make it up to you later tonight. In bed."

The wink in his voice landed like a lead balloon. He may have been shooting for "cool and alluring paramour" but he landed on "expectant and horny spouse". Sarah found herself moving past pissed off and hurt to quietly enraged as she listened to Cedric drone on. "You see, the VP for Operations -- you know that Tom guy I was telling you about on the plane? -- kind of an asshole, but he holds a lot of sway around here, and it turns out he's going out drinking with the gang tonight. You know I just can't miss this opportunity to present the ideas I've been working on for meshing production and logistics. OK? Now, I know this is probably going to piss you off, but you have to understand that this is the whole reason we're on this trip in the first place. Right, sweetie? Sweetie?"

She was debating whether to go with Plan A: "Hang up, go up to the room, find a chick flick on the TV and pout" or Plan B: "Launch in to a full-on tirade, unloading the last six months worth of accumulated demerits right then and there" when an inspiration hit. Plan C: "Ah, that's OK, honey. There is plenty to keep me occupied here."

"Oh, ok.. great." Was he really going to get off that easily? "Well, I'll um.. see you later then. I'll try not to be too late, sweetie." Two or three beats and the barb hooked. "Wait, what do you mean, 'plenty to keep you occupied?'" At that point, she quietly ended the call, a slightly self-satisfied smile on her face.

What did she mean, actually? Was there anything behind her improvised baiting? She didn't know herself. "Well, whatever.. that will teach him to blow me off when I'm ovulating" she laughed to herself.

But come to think of it, she did happen to be swimming in a pond full of decent looking guys at the moment. The couple were staying at a nice, somewhat hip downtown hotel, and the lounge crowd was definitely a step up from the pudgy population of washed-out white-collar wage slaves that she was used to seeing the few other times she'd tagged along on one of Cedric's business trips. Instead, around her were seated attractive, nicely dressed, interesting men -- and as always, it was mostly men who were hanging out in the bar later at night -- most of whom looked like they could hold up their end of a conversation. A lot of the guys there were slightly older. Late forties, early fifties, fit. Some sort of upscale professional conference must be in town, she mused. Probably that Sustainable Urban Planning thing she'd seen on the convention centre marquee.

And they didn't seem like the typical corporate types either; those men's men who had an eerie way of making her feel like she was little more than a vagina with a pretty face. Actually, some of the guys in the place looked so cute that she wouldn't mind if they were thinking about her vagina while making small talk, she giggled to herself. "Hell, maybe I'd even show that guy the whole package, and ask him his opinion!"

At this point she realized that this line of thought was a sure sign that she'd had two vodka tonics too many. She was hardly that kind of woman and this mental exercise lay clearly in the finger-fantasy realm. Probably time to initiate Plan A -- with a bit of digital self-stimulation thrown in and a lot less pouting. And yeah, she'd find a way to have Cedric make it up to her, and she'd already begun thinking of how to give him less than he was hoping for in return. Much less. One way or another, payback was going to be a bitch.

Still, she wasn't quite ready for bed -- even if the idea of touching herself was tugging at her elbow a bit -- so why not work out the details of this Plan C a bit? Just as a little thought experiment to get the juices flowing? The thing is, she had noticed that more than a couple of the better looking guys kept glancing vaguely in her direction. In particular, one guy's glances had been a bit more frequent and more than a bit clumsier than the others. He had wavy salt and pepper hair and was wearing a bold rep tie with a beautiful pale grey suit. But it was where he was glancing that may have subtly initiated her current train of thought. She was seated at one of the high tables near the bar and while most of the cast of imaginary suitors had the grace to point their glances in the general direction of her face with perhaps an occasional furtive look at her breasts -- which were not jaw-dropping orbs of middle-manager lust in any case -- this one guy's eyes kept traveling lower. To her bare knees, calves, and presumably what little his fully-activated optic nerves could register of her outer thighs.

She'd dressed for a nice night on the town. A white sheer tank under a dark red tunic, a somewhat gauzy black skirt with slip, and elegant low-heeled pumps. Underneath that, a simple comfortable bra and rather conventional, if low-cut, pair of white cotton panties. Just the kind of panties that many men -- her husband included -- inexplicably found so sexy.

As she did a self-inventory, she considered how her skirt was just the right length to cover most of her thighs, yet had just enough shape to create a perfect tent if she held her knees apart. And then she realized why the man kept stealing glances at her waist line. He was hoping to get a look at a bit more than her knees! In fact.. hmm.. based on his dedication to continued observation, maybe he already had gotten a decent glance. It was a little awkward getting in to that high stool, and come to think of it, she had had to spread her legs a bit when she wiggled onto it. But a glance at what? Her inner thighs? Could men really be that easy to please?

What was she thinking? Of course men were that easy to please! She ought to know -- she'd married one.

And maybe her admirer -- she decided she'd call him Mr. X -- had seen more than that; the holy grail, a little flash of white? The lights weren't as low in here and the bar wasn't as cave like as many of these places were, and you could see into the shadows under other tables. And she was seated higher, putting her hips not quite at eye level for Mr. X lounging on the couch not five metres away.

She interrupted herself, almost startled at this rather surprising train of thought. She was impressed by how much energy she was putting into the line of thinking; how much she was beginning to enjoy herself. She even felt a stir of awakening beneath the soft material of the target garment; that subtle push of her outer lips against the close-fitting fabric. Pretty face, indeed, she smiled inwardly. And felt herself almost subconsciously open her legs, letting an innocuous little gap form between them.