Susan's Secret

AUTHOR'S NOTE #1: WARNING! This is neither a BTB nor a RAAC story. All keyboard commandos should probably stop reading here; there are other very good stories submitted by some fine writers available. If you enjoy a plausible story keep reading. If you think no story could possibly end like this, I know at least one man who would beg to differ. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE #2

AUTHOR'S NOTE #3: All persons are over 18.

AUTHOR'S NOTE #4: I realize the proper way to change POV character is doing it at a chapter change. Since this is a short story, I have chosen to use 4 stars (****) to designate either a POV or a drastic time line change. The new POV character will usually be named in the first sentence.

THE STORY:

Fred knew he'd married out of his league from the beginning, but what the heck? He and Susan had been together over ten years now and all was still quiet on the Baker household home front. He had a good job down at Interstate Electronics; he was the senior tech and the one the engineers all ran to when they needed someone to make their newest bright idea actually work.

For this he received a salary large enough to support Susan and the twins in the manner to which they wished to become accustomed, without Susan needing to work. True, she did have a part time job as a realtor—she said it was just something to fill her time while the twins were in school, and that was fine with Fred. As far as he was concerned nothing was too good for his wife.

Sometimes, when he awoke beside the blonde goddess sleeping so peacefully beside him, he still had to pinch himself to be sure he wasn't dreaming.

He kept asking himself what she possibly saw in a nerd like himself. In earlier years, he even questioned her about it, but soon found he'd hit a solid rock wall there.

****

He remembered that time on their first anniversary:

"You know, Honey," he began, quite hesitant to even bring up the subject, but he really felt married couples should, if not share everything; at least know a lot more about each other than they did.

Oh, she knew a lot about him, he was an open book—he made no secret that he was a bumbling farm boy who lucked up and got the right breaks. Susan was only the fourth girl he'd ever dated and one of only three he'd got to third base with.

What he knew about sex prior to their wedding, he'd learned from reading sex manuals and watching porn. Their wedding night was anything but spectacular, but with a lot of patience and understanding Fred had improved steadily, until within a month of the wedding night Susan was regularly having orgasms despite his inept attempts at making love.

By the time of their first anniversary they both agreed the difficult days were behind them and they'd finally settled down to become an old married couple; the only thing was, Fred wasn't as clueless as some might think and every once in a while he'd catch Susan with that faraway look in her eyes.

It was one of those times, on the afternoon of their first anniversary that Fred decided they had to talk. Something was bothering Susan and when his wife was unhappy he was from the old school that contended a good husband did something about it. However, to do anything about her problem, he had to know something about her problem, so he bit the bullet and started questioning her.

He'd joined her in the front porch swing, which looked out over their duck lake. It was the best view in many miles, or at least they thought so.

"Honey," he started, "I've never understood why you gave a dud like me a second look. Why?"

His question seemed to jerk her out of her reverie. "What are you talking about? You're no dud—you're the most wonderful guy I've ever been with."

"Wow! Now don't swell my head too much, I still need to get my hat on." Maybe this was the day he'd get some answers. "You been with a lot, huh, if you know I'm that good?"

"No silly, I just know quality when I see it."

"I told you right up front you were the first girl I'd ever made love to, but every time I tried to find out anything about you, you retreat into some kind'a dark place and refuse to open up. What gives?"

"Why do you feel it important to know how many men I've dated?"

"That in itself isn't important, but do you realize I know almost nothing about your life before we met? Everything I do know, your likes and dislikes, I've had to pick up by trial and error. I haven't done bad along those lines, but your life before we met is like a closed door. Don't you think I deserve just a peek behind those doors?"

"Okay, so just what do you want to know?"

"Let's start with some easy ones; how would you describe the kind of kid you were?"

"That is easy. I was a spoiled brat. I had my Dad wrapped around my little finger and he tried to give me everything I wanted."

"Did he ever spank you as a child?"

"Nope he never did—but of course I was always his little darling and didn't need a spanking."

"I guess that answers my long standing question of why your dad gave me that paddle as a wedding gift.

"Oh yeah—the famous 'attitude adjuster.' At least it's a cute conversation piece—the way you hung it there in the kitchen.

"You may need this one day son," her Dad had said, presenting him with a paddle with the picture of a hillbilly father with either a grown daughter or maybe a wife lying face down over his knees, while he was applying an attitude adjustment to her bottom.

Why he hung on to it he really couldn't say; the day her dad gave it to him, he was joking, of course, but he seemed closer to Fred than ever before or since. He'd put it in a conspicuous place where it gave him and the old man had a good laugh every time he visited.

She shifted so her legs were folded under her in the swing and she was facing Fred. "Fair's fair. If I answer questions, you gotta answer the same questions."

"Okay—but all answers must be the truth."

"Agreed, with one caveat, we get to refuse to answer if we think it'll be best for either of us."

"Heck, that's not fair. You can still avoid the pertinent stuff."

"Take it or leave it. At least if I refuse to answer, you'll know it's a problem area."

Fred agreed and they'd had a long discussion. For his part, Fred confessed she was his first lover—big surprise there—and he learned she'd been engaged at one time. That was a surprise. She said she'd broken it off when he wanted her to move to Alaska; according to her, she hated cold weather.

Fred asked if she'd actually went all the way with him and she just gave him a sly little smile and said, "You should know—did you find my hymen still there our first time?"

"Shit," he confessed, "I was so excited I'm not even sure your pussy was there."

"Too bad." She gave him a little shit-eating grin and started trying to change the subject. He wasn't going to let her get away that easy. He insisted on asking questions about her love life and learned she'd kissed her first boy when she was twelve; first had her breast played with at thirteen, and first had a boy rubbing her pussy at seventeen, the same night she'd fondled her first cock.

The memories brought back by that conversation got them both horny and they wound up screwing right there in the swing. No, they weren't worried about somebody seeing them—at least not much. Their house is in a rural area and sits well off the road. To reach it requires a half mile drive through a winding, wooded road, so they'd hear the engine of any car long before anyone could see them.

Fred fondly remembered the following years during which they had settled into a normal happy family complete with a mortgage, two kids, a good car for her and an old clunker of a truck for him—everything that comprised the all-American family. After the twins reached high school Susan, who had been a stay-at-home Mom, got a job and the extra demands on her time caused changes in the Baker household, including their sex life, but it was nothing Fred couldn't live with.

Until the time came when he couldn't; it was nothing drastic—nothing Fred could put his finger on, but one day he realized things just weren't right.

****

Susan too had been happy—God was in His Heaven and all was right with the world. So what if Fred wasn't the world's greatest lover; he could still ring her bell often enough, and it seemed to her life was just about as good as it got—until the snake approached Eve in the Garden.

The call came through at work. Susan hadn't recognized the number, but as soon as she heard that voice from her past, her heart rate must have doubled. She knew immediately it was Tony.

He said he had moved back into his parents old place and asked if they could meet for a drink or something—just as a welcome home gesture since most of the old crowd they used to run with had left for greener pastures. She refused that day, but Tony wasn't one to give up.

Finally, after weeks of at least one call a morning, she'd relented and agreed to meet him for lunch. "Just this once, you understand—for old time sake. After all, I'm a married woman and I do love my husband."

Naturally Tony agreed, but somehow once became once a week and then twice a week or more. Almost from the beginning Tony started reminding her of the good times they used to have and how they could have just as much fun again, if she'd just meet him someplace after work.

"No! Are you crazy? I'm a married woman now. I love my husband and kids; I'm not going to throw all that away on a fellow who won't face up to his responsibility." She was adamant the first time he'd suggested they go out after work.

"Oh Babe, don't hold that against me—I paid for the procedure, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but where were you during the days after the abortion? The very time I needed comfort, you were nowhere to be found."

"I know—and I'm sorry I was so stupid. But all I'm asking for is to just reminisce over a drink and maybe dance a little. You do still like to dance, don't you?"

Susan still refused but he had hit a nerve. While she really liked to dance, Fred didn't care much for it, so it had been awhile—and she and Tony had been good together—good enough to win several contest.

Tony then changed tactics; he started concentrating on just continuing to have lunch often. He put on a full court press, constantly insisting meeting after work was just like having lunch together, so why couldn't two old friends get together?

How could she refuse? After all, she had reasoned, there was nothing wrong with two old friends getting together for a drink—it's wasn't like she was taking anything away from Fred. So during two or three lunchtimes each week she continued to disappear, rushing off meet Tony in an out of the way little diner.

****

Back in the present, Fred was trying to figure out what he'd done wrong—why was Susan so 'hot to trot' some nights then acting liked the Ice Queen at other times. When he came right out and asked her, she denied she was doing that, but Fred did notice that for a few weeks after he mentioned it, things got a lot better in the bedroom.

****

Susan was shocked when Fred questioned their sex life or lack thereof. She hadn't realized it until he put it in words, but they were becoming more like roommates and less like lovers. She denied it was happening, even to herself, while she started going all out to make sure he had all the sex he could handle. About half the time he really was giving her those screaming, mind shattering orgasms, she appeared to be having, but the other times she was putting on an Oscar winning act.

She felt guilty about it—Fred had developed into a skilled lover, not quite a Don Jaun, but he was a far cry above the inexperienced boy she'd took into her bed on their honeymoon night; and God knows she had no doubt about his love for her and the twins.

That's what made her so miserable, it was all her fault—hers and that

damn Tony—why did he have to decide to move back to town? Why couldn't she get him out of her mind? She felt low enough to walk under a snake's belly, as her mother used to say, but damn it she just couldn't stop remembering. She still had feelings for him. She couldn't help herself.

If she was to be honest with herself, she'd have to admit the bedroom problems Fred was complaining about started about the time Tony had showed up. She particularly remembered a night that Fred was exceptionally horny and was trying to jump her bones the minute they got the twins to bed. While he was trying to turn her on, her mind was on Tony and how special he'd made her young body feel back in the day. She was living proof a woman never forgot her first lover, even if she hadn't actually touched him in years.

At first Fred was concerned that she might have been sick, but when she insisted she was okay and still couldn't get turned on after more foreplay she suggested he just go ahead and get his. Then Fred got pissed and left their bed saying, "What the fuck's gotten into you, Susan? The wife I know is a hot blooded, loving woman; not a piece of cold meat." With that he'd stormed out to sleep in the guest room for the first time since they'd married.

After crying herself to sleep that night, Susan swore if she couldn't be the loving wife, she'd at least act like one.

****

Fred watched his wife dress for work. He was starting two weeks on the 4pm to 12am shift, otherwise known as the swing shift. He always hated that damn thing—he would already be an hour into his shift when Susan was coming home. The one who invented those hours must have either not wanted much pussy or worked with a bunch of women who put out at work.

That certainly didn't describe his Susan. She'd never give it up for anybody else—hell, lately she'd barley given it to him. There was one bright spot, however; by the time the weekend rolled around she'd be so horny they'd usually send the kids to one of the Grandparents and he and Susan would fuck like teenagers—for the first day, at least.

"You're dressing up awful pretty just for going to work, aren't you?" Fred was propped up on pillows, the sheet pulled to his waist, and massaging his balls and cock while he enjoyed the scenery.

"You know I can see you playing with yourself, don't you?" Susan leaned across the bed to take his cock in her hands and stroke it.

"Oh yeah, baby—now you're doing it. I'll give you just forty-five minutes to stop that."

"Love to do it baby, but I gotta go. Wouldn't want'a be late for work."

"Hey!" He reminded her as she was walking out the door, "You didn't say why the fancy clothes."

"No big deal; you won't be home for dinner, the kids are at Momma's, so me and a couple of the girls are going out for a Friday night of fun and frolic at Big John's Place." Big John's place, so named because the owner, Big John, was a four foot midget who ran the most popular roadhouse just outside of town. The food was good, his prices, including the booze was reasonable, on Friday and Saturday a country band provided music for dancing, listening or whatever.

The other nights, except Sunday, customers had to make do with a DJ. Sundays were for church, according to Big John, and if he found out you didn't attend, the price of your drinks went up ten per-cent. As Tennessee Ernie's song used to say, "Everybody knew you didn't give no lip to Big John." Instead of size, the way the song's Big John discouraged people from handing him a pile of crap, this Big John depended on a bullwhip and two bouncers to enforce his rules. He was good enough with the whip he could flick a housefly off the wall at eight feet; of course the bouncers always had his back. The place was usually crowded.

Years ago a couple of punks had caught Big John in town one night without either his whip or his bouncers and were working him over when Fred stepped in with a jack handle. After Fred took him to the emergency room and got him fixed up, his money was no longer good in John's Place. To say a close friendship had developed between Fred and John would be an understatement.

"Well, enjoy! I'll think of you having fun while I'm slaving away in the salt mines tonight. Say hello to John for me. Don't go getting into trouble now!" He shouted, as she walked out the door.

It wasn't until he was getting ready for work when he thought about Susan's choice of dress again. She'd been out with the girls lots of nights, but he couldn't remember her getting that dressed up.

'Oh well, back to the ole salt mines,' he thought.

****

Susan was bothered during the entire drive to work. She hadn't lied to Fred—exactly—she was going with the girls, and she hadn't responded to Tony—yet—about wanting to meet her one night that Fred was working, but she had mentioned that she and the girls often spent Friday nights at Big John's.

She might also have mentioned that there were always men and women, who loved dancing, there on Friday nights and that if Tony liked dancing as much as he used to, she was sure he'd find many willing partners there.

She'd have bet ten dollars Tony would be there tonight and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to dancing with him again.

Susan was also lying to herself and she knew it; she kept telling herself she had no feelings for Tony. She still did. Not feelings of love—exactly—but since he had returned to town, she found herself thinking about him a lot; so much that she'd decided to stop trying to hide their relationship.

Mainly those thoughts centered around the one burning question she wanted him to answer, "Why did you break up with me?" During all of their lunches she had never brought herself to ask that question; mainly because she was afraid of the truth, afraid he'd preferred another woman to her, but tonight would be different—tonight she was going to find out the truth.

In the back of her mind she was also questioning why she'd lied to Fred. Why did she tell him she broke it off with Tony? She should have simply told her husband the truth? She swore she'd correct that mistake—soon.

"Thank God it's Friday!" she exclaimed, when the final whistle sounded at four-thirty. Joining the rush of her co-workers headed to the parking lot, she checked her text messages for word from Tony.

'Nothing! Not a word. Zilch! In fact I hadn't heard from him all day.' If Tony could have heard her thoughts, his ears would have been burning.

'Don't tell me he took the day off to go fishing or some crap like that; not when I've finally made up my mind to introduce him to the gang. Yeah, I know—he doesn't know about it, but that didn't stop him from bugging me every other day this week. Men! They're so...so...well they are...'

Big John's was crowded but she and her friends lucked up and grabbed a round table over in the far corner, their drinks were delivered and soon their table was abuzz with the latest hot gossip. The five of them had been there long enough to have finished the meal they'd ordered along with the first bottle of wine and be well into the second when Susan noticed the talk was getting louder and a lot more giggling was taking place.

"Marge, you need to slack off, don't forget you still gotta drive home." Susan said to her friend on her right.

"No problem," Marge replied; her face was now in a constant blush and her eyes looked a little glazed. "Beshizze," she slurred her words while she pointed toward the door. "Ifsh I gets too drunk to drives, I'll just gets that hunk coming this way to drives meesh home."

Susan followed Marge's pointing finger and found herself looking into the eyes of a rapidly approaching hunk she was well acquainted with—Tony, the man she was once engaged to, the man who'd taken her virginity, and the man who she'd sworn she never wanted to lay eyes on again, the man she'd waited all day to hear from, and the man who was obviously headed for the empty chair beside hers.