This is the second part of "The Fall and Rise of Rebecca Miller".
"I still regret our wedding night, you know," said Henry. "I don't remember as much as I'd like of our first time," he added carefully, "and I wish I could have enjoyed the next day more. Especially first thing in the morning when I... missed the opportunity." He was looking at me with a half-guilty half-cheeky smile.
And I regret being a deceitful slutty fucktoy, I thought to myself. My heart fluttered a little at the memory.
"It's OK," I replied. "We can all get carried away sometimes."
It had been a couple of months since that night and I was keen on putting it all behind me. I had been angry at Henry for getting drunk at our wedding and then found out he had been kissing other women on his stag! I had lashed out at him in the most vicious way - secretly sharing myself with his two brothers and best man while he slept in a drunken stupor in the next room. I had purposefully tried to get myself pregnant by the other men and risked my new marriage in the process. I told myself he deserved it at the time, but as the following day had worn on, the reality had set in.
I lied to Henry about us having our wedding night together, blaming the drink on his missing memory. Then I had sworn the three men to secrecy (again) and tried my best not to think about it. Better to move on than dwell on past mistakes.
Thankfully it had not led to anything. I hadn't become pregnant that month, nor the following month. In fact, trying has become a bit of a chore already. Every other day, regular as clockwork, Henry joins me in bed, quickly satisfies himself, kisses me goodnight, and falls asleep. He isn't interested in matching my ovulation cycle or my satisfaction - it's more about getting what he wants and ticking off a job well done.
Occasionally, late at night when Henry is sound asleep, having left me unsatisfied. I secretly slip my hand down to my sloppy still-yearning sex and guiltily re-live my one night as a slut. The memory of those men stripping me, then their lips, hands, and throbbing cocks. Until my suppressed moans escape me, and I quietly shudder in the dark.
I re-focused on the moment. Smiling at Henry watching me.
"You were off in your own little world then" he teased me.
"Yes, it was a big day," I said, "and some bad decisions were made."
"Oh" he replied grumpily, "is this another lecture brewing? I knew I shouldn't have mentioned it."
"No, that's not what I was-"
"I know what you were getting at! It's the same every time! Why can't we talk about our wedding without it being all about me getting drunk and embarrassing myself every time!" he exclaimed.
"But you were the one who-"
"Will I ever hear the end of it?? I'm sorry, OK! Again!" he got out of bed and huffed off out of the bedroom.
Where did that come from? I thought to myself. We'd fought about it in the days after. Some of which was me taking out my anger, and some to be fair, was probably me blaming him for my own shameful reaction. We had avoided the subject since, rarely touching on it. I had no idea it was still so raw for him. And if it was such a sensitive subject, why did he bring it up?
I laid in bed for a moment, thinking. Then I checked the time. "Shit!" I said, realising it was much later than I thought. I quickly showered, being careful to keep my hair dry. No time for washing, drying, and the rest. It would have to be a quick bun and then out.
I dressed in a flurry, leaving a trail of clothing destruction behind me as I tried to find the right outfit for the day. A quick tidy bun, careful-fast make-up, and down the stairs, checking the bus times on my phone.
From the hallway I could see Henry sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring at his phone. Without looking up he sighed and said "Look, I'm sorry for getting so-" he spotted me putting on my shoes, "Where are you going?"
"I'm meeting Jen in town. I told you when we organised it last week. And then reminded you yesterday. Remember?" I said.
"Oh yeah, but hang on-"
"OK, love you, bye!" I said with no time to spare for sob stories and other excuses. It felt harsh, but my patience was a little short after this morning's outburst. I grabbed my jacket and left.
I made it to the bus with a minute to spare, and dropped Henry a message saying "We'll talk later, OK?". A short while later I saw he'd read the message, but no response.
Jen was already waiting in the café. The waitress was literally putting a coffee for each of us on the table as I arrived.
"Good timing!" she said as I walked in.
"By the skin of my teeth!" I replied, and told her about the morning so far.
We had worked together for years and had become comfortable with sharing (or oversharing) everything with each other. I still remember one meeting where I had watched her squirm and shift in her seat for a full hour, knowing that the reason for her barely-concealed discomfort was her bedroom experiment the night before. I remember us escaping to the bathroom afterwards and falling apart with laughter. "I am never, ever, doing anal ever again!" she had exclaimed, quickly checking no-one else was in the stalls as an afterthought.
"I still think you should get a new one." Jen concluded after hearing about Henry's outburst. "Drunk on the wedding night, hungover the next day, and that's just the start!"
Jen knew everything about that night, and Henry's previous indiscretions, but I hadn't told her about my own sordid activities that night.
"He's lovely the rest of the time," I defended. "He's thoughtful, caring..."
"...bad in bed, and only has a little winky," Jen added, waggling her little finger lewdly.
I sat there, open-mouthed, "How do you know how big he is?" I asked glancing around for eavesdroppers. "And he isn't small. I'd say he's very medium Maybe even slightly larger than average."
"Oh I've seen Facebook pictures of you both by the pool. He must be a grower, because he's not a shower." She added smirking.
"Dirty pervert!" I replied, and we both cackled like naughty witches, causing the waitress to glance over with a smile.
We wandered around some shops, more as an excuse to chat than to actually buy anything. Jen did her usual joke about being better off going to the children's section. I was average height and she was about half a head shorter than me, maybe a bit more. So she wasn't really that small. At first glance she seemed like one of those annoying naturally slim people. However, a closer look would show you that she had the muscle tone of someone who worked hard for her body shape.
As I looked at her toned muscles, I remembered sitting at a table in a bar while Jen got drinks. I saw a drunk man grab her bottom and slur something at her. Before anyone could say anything there was a sound like a whip cracking and the man was laid flat on the floor holding his cheek. He stammered "You m-man-hating d-d-" before she interrupted. "Actually I'm very much a man-appreciator. If you see one, let me know." Before ordering as if nothing had happened.
