Sonya gave her hair a last tousle and smeared a respectable plum lipstick across her lips, following with a thorough blotting. After a quick inspection in the mirror, she was satisfied with her modest and conservative appearance. Her crisp, white blouse and high-waisted, black pencil skirt made her look like a virginal secretary, although her red heels clearly hinted at something else entirely. Almost to make up for such a prim demeanor, Sonya had donned her most sexual and depraved undergarments. Although they were over a decade old and smelled a little musty, they were still in perfect condition: her black, silk thong had a vivid, red, lace trim and the slit along the middle of its length was unobtrusive unless she spread her legs. The matching bra was of the push-up variety and barely covered her nipples, her breasts perfectly lifted round mounds of flesh that reminded her of burlesque dancers.
Ha, that is definitely a good thing,
she thought.
Why haven't I worn these in such a long time? The feeling is most definitely exquisite!
*
Giving a curt nod to her reflection, she smiled as she made her way downstairs. "David? David!" she called. "My appointment is in ten minutes and it takes that long to drive there. David?"
"In here, sweetheart."
"For heaven's sake, you had to go right now?" Sonya exclaimed upon seeing her husband sitting on the toilet... again. "What is this? The fourteenth time today?"
David laughed, and with a sheepish grin said "I am so lucky to have such an attentive wife, keeping track of all my bowel movements."
Sonya rolled her eyes and tried to suppress her smile. "Just hurry up. I'm all ready and just waiting for you." She walked down the hallway, away from her husband's very distinct malodor and waited by the front door, absently eyeing herself in the mirror and thinking of her current situation.
It is just so bizarre,
she thought. It was not that long ago that her and David's relationship was dead in the water. She would have thought that after her intense, sexual encounter with the stranger at the cinema it was time to put her and her husband out of their misery and finally end the marriage, but something strange and wonderful had resulted from her infidelity. The experience had released something that had been caged within her for a long time. Sonya wasn't sure exactly what that was, but she had definitely lightened up and marital sex had resumed with gusto.
I am absolutely positive it was more than a release of sexual tension,
she mused.
No, that is far too simplistic. Whatever the burden was that I had shouldered, I am just glad it is gone.
Suddenly Sonya had an epiphany
. Perhaps it isn't so strange after all,
she thought.
Perhaps that is why couples attend swinger's parties.
In all the websites she had visited, the featured photos were invariably of middle-aged married couples, seemingly long-time partners. Curiosity alone had led her to such information and she had always been appalled at the thought of actually attending such a party, but she felt she understood the motivation behind the guests a lot more and no longer found it quite so shocking.
Sure, you get to have sex with other people, specifically people that aren't your wife or husband, but maybe such experiences provide a relationship jump-start, so to speak.
Her thoughts wandered back to the stranger once more and her chest felt as though guilt and regret were a thick and sticky concoction that had been poured into it and was slowly drowning her from within.
It is such a contradiction,
she thought.
How is it possible to have been so aroused and yet so disgusted by an experience. It is as if pleasure and remorse have been at war within me, in exactly the same measured amounts. If it wasn't for the damn guilt...
It had been eating away at Sonya's once treasured memory, tilting the scales, and she had ceased her masturbating whilst thinking of her encounter. Similarly, she had toyed with the idea of calling the stranger and more than a few times she found herself holding his business card in one hand, the telephone in the other, but she never called and the impulse had slowly died.
As the flame of her desire for the stranger had waned and diminished, her longing for her husband had appeared and increased, and although there were many issues they had to work on and Sonya was all too aware of the fact she would have to eventually confess to David what she had done, things were currently a whole lot more positive for the both of them.
As for the sex, I have no cause for complaint anymore,
she thought, recalling the expert caress of his tongue on her clitoris and his perfectly thrusting fingers of the night before, David subjecting her to an hour of teasing and touching before finally bringing her to orgasm.
And not even wanting anything in return!
"What are you thinking about with that devilish smirk on your face?" David asked. His wife visibly jumped as he quickly brought her out of her reverie.
"Oh nothing. Just last night," Sonya replied, winking.
David laughed. "Now, should I be worried about you going to church today? Why the sudden urgency? You haven't been in years."
"Oh shit. We have to go already. I was meant to be there ten minutes ago," Sonya exclaimed, quickly grabbing her handbag and exiting the front door with her husband in tow.
As David drove through the busy Saturday streets, crowded with less than perfect weekend drivers, his wife was becoming incredibly nervous. The thought of confessing her sin was nauseating and she found herself constantly wiping her slick hands down her skirt.
Geez, if I feel this bad now, how am I going to manage when I finally tell David,
she wondered.
It won't make it any easier, knowing with certainty that he will forgive me. Poor David.
Her nerves were making her light-headed, and she searched her mind for possible distractions. "Hey David." Her voice cracked as she started speaking and his name distinctly wavered.
"Yes Sonya."
"I have something to show you," she sung.
He turned his head and upon seeing her face, asked "Are you okay? You're looking a tad pale."
"I'm fine... just a little nervous. So would you like to see what I want to show you?" She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and took a few deep breaths to stay the feeling of vertigo.
"Sure darling," David said. Sonya wriggled her skirt up as far she could muster and then arched her back and raised her buttocks, lifting her skirt to her navel in one swift motion.
"Remember these?" she asked, motioning toward her groin.
"No."
"This might jog your memory." She spread her legs wide and the black and red panties flashed against her pale skin. Lowering her hands, she parted the two sides to her underwear, revealing the bare skin of her freshly shaven pussy.
"No! Sonya!" David virtually roared, and burst into loud laughter. "What on earth made you put them on for church?" Sonya shrugged and they both were overtaken by fits of giggles. "That is so inappropriate. Now my darling, do you remember this?" he asked as he moved his hand to her exposed thigh, caressing her all the way up to her pussy and then gently probing between her lips with his finger.
"Mmm, it has been a long time since you have done that, hasn't it?" When they were much, much younger, it was a common scenario when they were driving to virtually any occasion. David was now sliding his finger easily between her moist lips, and every time he reached her clitoris he gave it a small rub. Sonya relaxed back into the seat and let out a small sigh, her pussy becoming wet and her clit throbbing for his touch.
"Oh damn, we are here already," said David with mock sincerity as he slowly pulled his hand away from her vagina. She groaned with her displeasure and struggled to pull down her skirt. "You know Sonya, I am really sorry things have been so bad between us," he added quietly. "You know it's going to get better, right? We were just in a rut. And I'll take care of you as soon as I get you home later, okay?"
"Yes David," Sonya said softly, her guilt and nerves having returned as soon as he had stopped pleasuring her and now intensified by his gentle words. "I'll call you when I'm done. Have fun watching the game and say hi to Clare and Derek for me."
"Will do. Say hi to Father Michael for me, although I haven't seen him since our wedding," he laughed. Sonya climbed out of the car and David seemed to study her face for a moment, wearing an odd expression. "I love you no matter what, okay?"
"Okay... I love you too," said Sonya and she waved as her husband slowly drove away.
He knows,
she thought.
He doesn't know exactly what happened, but he definitely knows something is up. In fact, I think he doesn't want to know for the moment and he's just happy with how things have improved between us. Eventually though, it will eat away at him and he will have to know.
She tried to shrug off her mood and she physically braced herself as she approached the ornately carved, wooden doors of the church. She had been raised here, attending every weekend, and hadn't been back in years, but the memories came flooding back. Sonya was thankful that they were drowning out her current worries.
She stepped inside and the cool, dusty air seemed to eddy around her body as she displaced it, as if telling her she was a foreign entity that did not belong there. As much as she had resented Sunday school as a child with its pinched, monotonous instructors and excessive references to Hell and damnation, she had always loved the church itself. It had always felt as old as time, with its stonework and high wooden beams, and at the right times of day sunshine would burst through the stain-glassed windows to color the dull, grey interior with a kaleidoscope of color and light. Like certain older libraries, it had an almost tangible, quiet solemnity that pressed in on her and for some reason she had always enjoyed that physical sensation the building had elicited.
And then there was Father Michael. Everyone had always loved him. His open face and gentle demeanor relaxed even the stiffest attendees, and his sparkling eyes and kindly wrinkles revealed his warm nature immediately. He had always reminded her of a priestly Santa Claus, exuding warmth and tenderness. He was a sharp contrast to most other priests Sonya had met, who always looked as though they were overtaken by forced restraint and seemed to hold their judgmental expressions as close as they did their Bibles. Father Michael was precisely the reason she had come to confess here, and she made her way slowly through the empty loftiness of the hall to the confessional booth.
