In the previous chapter I advised readers that this is part of a series, consisting of a lengthy plot, made more credible by reading previous chapters. It's not a "quickie" story, though there's plenty of sex. One just has to wait for it. Just click on my name and go to the link to see Deirdre's previous adulterous troubles. Be forewarned that this episode describes in graphic detail the intolerable crime of rape and its aftermath. As always, we appreciate your feedback and votes!
On Friday my husband Frank left for his weekend trip to Phoenix that had been arranged by his boss, Bruce. I'd not told him about Bruce's mauling of me Wednesday night after Frank had passed out, drunk. I
had
, however, warned him that I was going to take charge of my life and live according to
my
rules, not the sexist dictates we'd lived by for nearly ten years of married life, nor the conventions inherited from our conservative, Italian-American parents.
Though Bruce's attempted assault had frightened me, I felt nevertheless stronger, more independent, more sure of myself, more
empowered
, since I'd succeeded in warding him off. In large part, though, the new me was a product of my love affair with Jack Taylor, a patient whom I'd met through my work at our dental office, and since had retained as the designer of our home that was to be remodeled. Until Jack, there had been a floating, unanchored, though cyclical sourness in my marriage to Frank that had made me at times appear moody, illogical and panicky...while trying to maintain a veneer of calm respectability. And, of course, there was the problem of our not being able to conceive.
Though Frank was infertile, with Jack I was now free from the fear of pregnancy, since my pills had kicked in, and the temporary use of the diaphragm was no longer needed. I even felt stronger when dealing with him, not accepting his every pronouncement just because of my passionate feelings for him. We'd made love - no, we'd fucked - on Wednesday and I'd seen him on Friday for his root canal appointment with Dr. McCarthy, my boss. On that day I'd gone to lunch with Mandy, my work mate, and - at her urging - had chosen not to see Jack after work, which had become a regular, carnal habit. I suspected him - for good reason - of seeing other women, and wanted to talk with him about it. I'd decided to discuss it with him when he came to our house Saturday afternoon to plan the remodel project. This would allow me to confront him with my suspicions about his wandering eye...or should I say his faithless prick?
I awoke Saturday feeling liberated from many things...particularly my pervasive guilt and panic attacks, which in the past had weakened all of my relations with men: my father; my husband; his boss, Bruce; my boss, Dr. McCarthy...even my lover, Jack. When looking closely at my entire 32 years, though, I truly had little to feel guilty about. However, for the benefit of my soul, like the good Catholic girl that I am, I went to church early in the morning and took Confession, explaining my recent infidelities to the priest. When concluding my redemptive pleas for forgiveness, I felt momentarily cleansed, yet it troubled me that something as beautiful as I'd felt with Jack could be considered evil...something that should prompt sorrow and shame.
Back at home at 10 o'clock, I slipped on a black bikini, anxious to work on my tan in the backyard, which is a weekend ritual of mine. After speaking on the phone with my mother about a dozen unimportant things, I lay out in the warm sun on a chaise lounge to leach myself of the week's unpleasant memories. As I usually do, I stripped off my bikini to prevent lines...a practice that's safe enough since the yard is enclosed on three sides by a high privacy fence. Only the most daring, nosey person would try to enter the yard via either of the narrow walks along the sides of the house.
After an hour or so, I heard the doorbell ring through the open back door. Throwing on my short, white terry robe, I ran through the house and opened it to Billy, a 19-year-old neighbor boy who'd just returned from a year away at college. Frank and I had known him and his parents since he was 10. "Hi, Deirdre!" he said. "Uuh, I wondered if you wanted your front lawn mowed. I'm doin' yardwork this quarter and work real cheap!" he gushed, boyishly. His devoted companion, Thor, a giant, black Great Dane, sat obediently beside him, slowly sweeping the front porch with his tail as he regarded me curiously.
"Why, Billy! I hardly recognize you! You've grown so much!" I observed. Indeed, it was true. He'd left a gangly boy and here, staring at me after having not seen him for a year, was a tall, muscular, sandy-haired youth who could easily pass for a fully grown man! The tank top and cargo shorts he was wearing clung to tanned muscles that defined his shoulders, chest, and thighs. For a moment I thought that he could be a young Jack of twenty plus years ago, bronzed and cheerful. Smiling, I saw his clear blue eyes drop slowly from my face, over my breasts - lingering for a moment on the swell of my hips - then to the hem of my short robe, which revealed much of my smooth, olive legs. I was immediately uncomfortable, since I was naked underneath, yet felt a certain perverse pleasure in the fact that he might like what he saw...since I'm 13 years his senior. "Sure! Cut it!" I said. "I'll give you twenty dollars. Here, I'll pay you now, 'cause I'm in the backyard, sunning." I grabbed my purse, had nothing smaller than a fifty, and asked, "Billy, Can you come back later? I don't have twenty."
"Sure, Deirdre! I'll do a good job an' see ya' later, okay? Don't wanna' bother you! Go back to your sunbathing!" I watched him through the window for a few minutes, eyeing his strong, youthful muscles - now bearing an attractive, masculine sheen of sweat - easily maneuver the power mower across the front lawn. His faithful dog, Thor, loped after him as if to remind him of any missed spots. Then, I retreated to the backyard, re-donning my bikini to worship the sun.
As I lay on my tummy on the lounge, I untied my bra string. With the hot sun penetrating my shoulders and back, my eyes closed dreamily and I began to think sexual thoughts. I smiled to myself as I flashed on Billy's admiring gaze and - for a split second - imagined what male secrets his cargo shorts might hold. But that image immediately faded into the very real recent memory of Jack, with his erect cock pulsing before him, waiting to penetrate my yearning body. I turned my head toward the house, so I could be warned of any interruption, and slid the opposite hand under my bikini bottom to cup my smoothly shaven pussy. I gasped as my fingers touched my moist crotch, slickened by the sun and my thoughts, and stroked my clit a few times, causing a lovely, shuddering feeling to well up within me. Of course, I continued, since my conscious mind whispered: More!
Regardless of the newfound discipline that I wanted to exercise, I needed Jack and would have him later this day, I knew...just as soon as I'd made him aware of my suspicions. If he was doing so, I wanted him to stop seeing other women. But, for now I wanted and needed release. My juicy fingers sped up and I hunched my vulva down against them as repetitive shards of pleasure jolted my body. I ground faster, closing my eyes and gasping until I thought I'd faint. As I climaxed, my legs shot straight out behind me and I grunted through gritted teeth, not wanting to utter a sound since I heard Billy still cutting the grass in front. As I came down, relaxing and rubbing one excited nipple, I whispered Jack's name to myself and imagined the heat of his spunk deep inside me. Wow! Had I ever changed...from the faithful, repressed, suburban wife to a desperately hot, horny wench, preoccupied with sex!
I picked some lemons off the tall tree in the yard and fixed a quick salad for lunch. I also squeezed some lemon juice onto my armpits, under my breasts, in the soft creases on either side of my pussy and between my butt cheeks...just to smell fresh. Then I put on a short, sleeveless, sundress over my bikini to look presentable.
Jack arrived in mid-afternoon, looking noticeably tense. After what I thought was a perfunctory kiss at the door, we went to the living room, where he showed me his finished designs for each room to be done. I sat in an armchair at an angle to the coffee table, crossing my legs, and he knelt on the floor, leafing through drawings and reciting a technical litany about what we needed to do, beginning this coming week. My mind wandered after the first five minutes, musing about the discussion I
really
wanted to have, and I finally said, "Let's talk about this later, okay, Jack? I feel you're so far away. Why are you so preoccupied?" I asked, noticing that his eyes went straight to my dress's hemline, which barely covered my crotch.
"Sorry, Dee Dee," he said, exhaling. "I'm not totally focused today."
