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Cheating At Cards Ch. 01

By: newjayne



After five years of marriage, my husband had matured into a quiet, home-loving man and that suited me perfectly. Although our jobs meant that we had a bit of 'socialising' to do, his idea of heaven was to spend an evening curled up on our large couch, enjoying a couple of beers and watching the sports channel while I sat in the armchair marking my pupils' work for an hour or two. Occasionally, I'd come across a real 'howler' to share with him and, despite claiming that he was poorly educated, he always understood what I found funny about it and laughed with me.

Once my work was completed, I'd go to the kitchen to make him a light snack of some kind; nothing complicated, just a sandwich or some cheese and crackers, grab myself a mug of tea, and snuggle up beside him. I'm not a great sports enthusiast, but I know he loved it all – football, cricket, golf, tennis or whatever and he'd normally ask me if I wanted to watch something else. I very rarely did, and I'd become pretty good at judging how involved he was in whatever he was watching before suggesting any change. 

His only 'vice,' if you can call it that, was his Friday night game of Whist. I've never been much good at cards, to be perfectly honest, so it was rare for me to be asked to play. Normally, it was Geoffrey (that's my husband), Bob and Marjorie – (a couple in their early forties who lived no more than a couple of hundred yards away), and Calvin – the owner of a local plumbing company who did a lot of business with the building supplies company my husband runs for a medium-sized national chain. 

Each week the game would be held in a different house since the hosts supplied the food and drinks (two out of every four at Bob & Marje's), which meant that I had three weeks out of every four to relax and watch whatever I wanted on the TV. Usually it would be an old Western movie. Don't ask me why, I just love all the Randolph Scott, John Wayne and Audie Murphy vehicles – possibly it's because they're uncomplicated, often sweetly romantic between all the gunfire, and usually have a morally justifiable ending.

When it was held at our house, I concentrated on making and serving the food, keeping them all supplied with beer, wine or whatever, and generally keeping out of the way. I was, however, always a bit wary of finding myself alone with Calvin because a couple of times – usually when the drinks had been flowing a bit freely – he'd made a pass at me. It wasn't anything serious, but he liked to appear in the kitchen to 'help' me with the refreshments when they took a break from the game. He had a way of making comments about my appearance that just about managed to fall short of lewdness – but only just! Now, I can cope with that – most females learn how to deal with things like that from an early age, especially if they're reasonably attractive. And that's how I'd describe myself – not great, but not bad.

At the time I'm writing about, I was just becoming aware of the horrors of an approaching 30; we'd been married for five years and I worked at keeping in decent shape. I'm only five foot three and I have a slim build: that is to say I have to wear a well-padded bra to look like an adequate B-cup, but that goes okay with a thin waist and slender hips all kept under control by regular visits to the gym. My legs are okay, but nothing special. What I do have is a pretty face – the kind that people often describe as 'sweet' and (my only real vanity) long, full-bodied blonde hair.

I'm not much of a flirt (Hey, everyone flirts a little bit, don't they – it's human nature), but I enjoy receiving compliments about my appearance, even though they often make me blush; the comments from Calvin, however, were sometimes a bit more than just 'flirtatious' and they often made me uncomfortable.

I used to dread his appearance in the kitchen when I was cutting sandwiches or taking some home-made pasties, sausage-rolls or quiche out of the oven, because he had a knack for making his entrance just as I was bending over and producing some comment about my backside. "Oh, yes! I can't wait to get my mouth on that... and the food looks okay, too!" was what passed for humour in his mind; or, "I think I'd need to borrow your oven gloves to handle something as hot as that!" 

At first I just ignored him, or tried to laugh it off, but the remarks became increasingly personal and much more sexual until I had to tell him, as politely as I could, that I didn't appreciate them. Did it make a difference? No, it didn't. In fact, if anything, it made them worse. "If you ever need a bun in the oven... I'm available if Geoff's not up to it!" was one of the milder ones. I think it helped me to understand why he'd been married and divorced twice already.

I told my husband about it and about the way it made me feel, but he just told me not to be such a prude. Calvin, he said, was harmless and it was only a bit of banter. Apparently, I needed to 'loosen up' and stop 'making a mountain out of a molehill.' That was all very well, but the next time they were at our house, Calvin actually crept up behind me in the kitchen and grabbed a quick feel of my own 'molehills!'

Of course, I wriggled free and, in a quietly rasping voice (I didn't want to create a scene in front of everyone) told him never to touch me again. Later, when I told Geoffrey about it, he just laughed! I couldn't believe it! His friend had grabbed hold of my tits and my husband just bloody-well laughed!

"It's just the way Calvin is," he said, "He's a single man and he has a bit of a 'thing' about you. He keeps telling the other blokes at work that I've got a really fit-looking wife – it's a standing joke. He goes on about how they never had teachers like you when he was at school. Y'know... jokes about how he'd love to be in detention with you... about doing it wrong and being made to do it again... you know the kind of thing. He's probably frustrated; he split up with his girlfriend recently so I think he's probably porn-hunting on the Internet most nights at the moment."

"So I'm supposed to just let him grope me and not do anything about it?" I demanded, feeling my normally well-controlled temper beginning to bubble dangerously just below the surface.

"I didn't say that," Geoffrey responded, "Look... I'll have a word with him and make sure it doesn't happen again... okay?"

"You'd better!" I insisted, "Because if it does, I won't be here on your card nights. I'll go round to Mum's house until I'm sure they've all gone home."

It was a niggling irritation that continued to fester for a while, but Geoffrey must have had a word because Calvin did stop his visits to the kitchen. In fact, there were a couple of times during the following months when he wasn't able to make it to the card nights at all as he seemed to be in a new relationship. 

For that, I was grateful. It wasn't that I didn't like him, he was normally okay when he hadn't been drinking. iI fact, he's a very good-looking and extremely fit man – the kind you wouldn't expect to see without a pretty girl hanging onto his arm for very long – but the simple fact is that I get quite enough sexual innuendo in the staff room at school and I don't appreciate it in my own home in my 'down time.' 

The only unfortunate thing about his absence was that I had to partner my husband in the whist games and, as I've said, I'm not very good – certainly not in the same class as the very competitive Bob and Marje.

The beginning of 'the argument' came in the middle of October. It was a grey and miserable Friday that was followed by a cold and rainy night. I'd been held up at school to talk to a parent concerned that her daughter was being loaded down with too much homework, and then by another who suspected her son was being bullied. By the time I got home and warmed up the meal I'd prepared the night before, I was in a considerable rush to get everything done. 

When the evening game was at Calvin's house Marjorie usually brought the food and Calvin made up for it by providing plenty of liquid refreshment. I suppose I'd half-assumed that, since he now had a girlfriend, there wouldn't be any need to do that, but I'd been told over the breakfast table that the relationship had ended. Then during the afternoon I'd had a text message from my husband saying that Marje had a nasty cold (no surprise as half my pupils were absent with whatever nasty bug was doing the rounds) which, of course, meant that I'd be doing all the food and taking part in the game. Not only that but, as Calvin lived a couple of miles away, I'd be doing the driving as well.

So I'll admit that I wasn't in the best of moods. It wasn't helped by the fact that I had to stop on my way home to get some bits and pieces from the supermarket – and that there were huge queues at the checkout – nor was it improved when I discovered that, although I'd put the washing in the machine before leaving that morning, I'd somehow forgotten to set it going. I'd been expecting to sling a pair of jeans and a sweater in the dryer, but that clearly wasn't going to happen. In the end, not wanting to wear anything the least bit revealing in Calvin's company, the best I could find was an old denim skirt that buttoned down the front, but came to slightly below knee-level, worn with a loose and chunky sweater that was about as feminine as Gabby Hayes. 

Once Bob had climbed into the back seat of my car, and my husband had squeezed into the front with his customary complaint about it being too small for him, we set off. Not having Marje to chatter to, the journey seemed very quiet so, just making conversation, I asked: "What happened to Calvin's girlfriend, then?"

"She went back to her husband," Bob stated quite innocently, but I was taken by surprise.

"You didn't say she was married!" I said to my husband.

"Didn't I? I must have forgotten," he answered quite blandly, but Bob was more forthcoming.

"Yeah... he met her when he was fitting a new bathroom suite. Apparently it was lust-at-first-sight," he grinned. "When her husband found out about it, I believe she tried to tell him it was just something she had to get out of her system... but as soon as he started talking about divorce she went scurrying back to him and dropped Calvin like a hot brick."

"Really... and I thought he was quite... errm... harmless," I said, as ingenuously as I could manage to sound.

"Don't you believe it, Love," Bob declared, "He's a devil when it comes to married women! He says he prefers them because they don't go telling everyone what they're up to. I think it was his cheating that led to both of his divorces."

"Really... has he ever tried it on with Marje?" I asked, noticing that Geoffrey was looking more than a bit uncomfortable.

"I can guarantee that I'd know all about it if he did," he replied, then went on, "He's alright, really... he just can't resist trying it on with married women if they're halfway good-looking, I suppose.."

By that time we'd arrived at our destination and Calvin was waiting at the door as the men carried most of the food into the house. As I followed up with the final plate, Calvin held the door and asked me what was on it. When I told him it was chicken wings, he winked, leered, and said he was 'more of a legs and breasts man.' 

Obviously he was over his recent affair.

I was, of course, replacing Marje in the game, which meant I was partnering Bob and sitting opposite him at the small, square table in Calvin's living room. My husband was sat on my right and Calvin, his partner was on my left. Bob was to deal first but, before he did, he announced:

"Okay... since Patsy's made all the food and driven us over here, I think it's only fair that she gets to have a couple of drinks and you can drive us home... what d'you say, Geoff?"

"I'm really not that bothered," I said quickly. God knows, I'm a poor enough card player normally, but I have a pretty low tolerance for alcohol and a few drinks would, I thought, make me a total liability; plus, I also knew that Geoffrey enjoyed a few beers during the game; but Bob wasn't so easily put off.

"Okay, then..." He said, "You and your husband cut the cards and the loser has to stay dry!"

I was about to say that I really didn't want to, but my husband laughed and agreed – probably, I thought, seeing a way to be certain of wiping the floor with Bob and me - and, a moment later, the shuffled pack was placed in front of us. 

"Ladies first!" someone declared and so, rather reluctantly, I split the pack and turned over a four of diamonds. I felt a sense of relief, feeling sure it would be easily defeated but, as luck would have it, Geoffrey turned up the two of clubs! A moment or two later, Calvin was placing a wicked-looking glass of Bacardi & Coke in front of me – complete with ice and a slice of lemon.

My first hand turned out to be very a good one and so, it appeared was my partner's. We won that and then won a second one. I soon discovered that Bob was a very good player and, just by being sensible, I was able to help him win the first round of games by 4 hands to 1.

I'd never been on the winning side before and I felt quite elated by it – especially when I saw that my husband was going into a bit of a sulk! I finished off my drink – which was immediately replaced – and started again. The second game was closer – only 3 to 2 – but I was made up with it. By that time I was on my third Bacardi – three is always my limit - and I know I must have been feeling the effects of it because it tasted a lot stronger than the previous two. I realised I'd have to take it slower, so I still had a few drops left in the glass when the game ended in another narrow victory for Bob and myself.

It was clearly time for a break and, without thinking anything of it; I went out to Calvin's tiny kitchen to begin taking the cling film off the food. Normally, I can handle three drinks – just about – but I was aware that I was definitely feeling a little bit muddled, not actually drunk, but slightly tipsy. So, when the resulting clumsiness caused me to drop one of the wings on the floor, I actually giggled as I squatted down to pick it up – fully intending to put it back on the plate and say nothing (Yes, I know the so-called 'five second rule' about things not being contaminated is a myth – but it isn't when you're 'muddled').

"Here... let me get that," I heard Calvin's voice from right beside me and, before I realised what was happening, I saw it being snatched up by his large hand. I looked up, just in time to see him smile and bite into it and then, as I tried to straighten up, I tumbled backwards!

I can't tell you what I must have looked like, or what he was able to see – only he knows that – but I do know that several buttons on the front of the skirt popped open, that the back of my head 'clunked' against the fridge door to add to my confusion, and that I felt dazed and more than a bit confused. I became vaguely aware that I was sprawled, legs apart, on the tiled floor but I didn't seem to be able to make my arms work to push myself back up. 

It was predictable, I suppose, that Calvin would begin to help me – and the way he did it was also fairly predictable. 

Instead of stepping behind me – which would have been fairly simple – he stood between my legs, reached down to put his arms around me, and simply lifted me up as if I weighed nothing at all. Okay, if he'd put both arms around my waist to do it, that would have been bad enough; but Calvin wasn't going to miss an opportunity like that! Once his left arm was around my waist and had begun the process of raising me up, his right hand immediately went beneath my bum and lifted me completely off my feet!

So, picture it if you can – a good-looking and very fit man is standing in his kitchen; a rather dazed woman has her hands on his shoulders (note – I said 'on,' not 'around!'), while he has one hand around her waist and the other on her ass and her feet are dangling in mid-air. He probably has an erection (I don't know, I didn't notice but, given his character, it would be a surprise if he didn't) and, as she tries to pull back away from him, he plants his mouth on hers and starts to kiss her.

Got that? Okay – now imagine that you're the woman's husband and, having heard the commotion, you come into the kitchen and that is what you see. How do you think you would react? 

Let me have a couple of guesses:

First option – you'd think the guy (who your wife had complained about) was trying to take advantage of her and you'd be angry with him. You'd order him to put her down, maybe demand an explanation, and then get her to hell out of there with, at the very least, a strong warning to the man about his behaviour. 

That would be reasonable. 

Second option – you'd immediately think that something was, or has been, going on behind your back. You'd get very upset; maybe start an argument or even a fight before either walking out on your own or, as with the first option, getting your wife out of there right away.

That would be understandable, even if it not quite as reasonable as option one.

I don't think most men would consider a third option – the one of watching for a moment or two, grinning like a cat who's just spotted an unguarded pot of cream, and then saying; "It's okay... no rush for the food... whenever you're ready!" as you grab a couple of cans of beer and quietly close the door behind you when you leave and go back into the other room!

But that is exactly what my husband did!

By that time, I'd gathered enough of my wits to realise what was happening; to jerk my face away from Calvin's whisky-laden breath and begin trying to struggle free. He was, though, a very strong man and, as I've said, I only have a slight build and he was holding me so tightly that it was difficult enough to breathe, let alone yell, or even say anything.

"C'mon, Patsy!" he whispered, "I know you like it. Geoff's told us what you're like in bed... and I've got far more to offer than he has."

The leering look on his face almost made me want to throw up (I suppose that would have been one way to make him let go of me!), but he was so wrapped up in trying to kiss me again that he failed to remember that my legs were still dangling freely in mid-air. 

In that position, I couldn't manage to put much force behind it, and it was my shin rather than my knee that made contact, but it was enough. As soon as it made contact with his crotch he yelped and let me go. For a second or two he doubled up then, straightening again, he growled; "Oh... right... so you like it to be a bit rough, do you?" and then, because I'd turned away from him, "You want it from behi..." but he stopped in mid-sentence as I spun around holding a very large kitchen knife which, I can honestly say, I was perfectly prepared to use at that moment.

"Try anything like that again," I rasped, still striving to catch my breath, "and it's the hospital first and the cop shop after!"

Briefly, there was a look of immense anger on his face but it rapidly faded and was replaced by a slightly crooked smile that was far more frightening and it made me grip the knife handle even tighter, but he didn't make any move towards me.

"You stupid bitch!" he declared quietly, "You haven't a clue, have you?"

Now that confused me – but then he went on:

"It's your loss, Patsy. In case you hadn't realised, there's only one real man in this group." And when I went to say something, giving him a look of contempt, he added, "Why don't you ask Marje? She'll tell you. And she should know... because she's tried all three of us... many times!"

It was something like pity that I saw on his face, but only for a moment; because he turned, opened the door, and went back to the others, calling out; "And hurry up with that food!"


Cheating At Cards Ch. 01



The only word I can use is devastated. I couldn't even begin to describe the thoughts that swirled around in my head – first rejecting, then accepting, and then rejecting again as the enormity of what he'd said sank in. Even though the shock had sobered me I knew I wasn't capable of thinking things through clearly just at that moment. I needed to get out of there. 

I went into the little hallway and grabbed my coat off the rack. Without even hesitating, I strode into the living room and announced: "we're leaving!"

"What? It's only early, yet," Bob protested and, incredibly, my husband backed him up.

"Come on, Love... we've got at least two more games to play! Bring the food food in, have another drink... and relax."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing and my temper started to bubble – very ominously.

"That animal," I said, pointing at Calvin, "tried to seduce me... assault me... call it what you will. So if you think I'm staying in this house another minute...."

"Calm down... he didn't mean anything. He just...." My husband had the nerve to say, but he was interrupted by Bob.

"Yeah... chill out, Patsy. It's no big deal. We're not leaving till we've had some food and...."

"Fine... suit yourselves," I yelled, knowing the keys were still in my pocket, "Stay if you want... but you'll have to get a taxi home!" 

I turned and marched down the hallway to the front door. As I opened it, I heard Geoffrey call out: "Patsy... come back! Be reasonable, won't you?"

I gave the door a very satisfying slam as I left. When I clambered into the car and started it, I was praying that I wouldn't get stopped on the way home, but I wasn't all that worried because I felt surprisingly sober.



Cheating At Cards Ch. 02



INTRODUCTION FROM CH 01

By that time, I'd gathered enough of my wits to realise what was happening; to jerk my face away from Calvin's whisky-laden breath and begin trying to struggle free.... 

"C'mon, Patsy!" he whispered, "I know you like it. Geoffrey's told us what you're like in bed... and I've got far more to offer than he has."

.... he stopped in mid-sentence as I spun around holding a very large kitchen knife

"You stupid bitch!" he declared quietly, "You haven't a clue, have you?

"Why don't you ask Marje? She'll tell you. And she should know... because she's tried all three of us... many times!"

I was praying that I wouldn't get stopped on the way home, but I felt surprisingly sober. 

CHAPTER 02

Like most teachers, I was perfectly well aware of the nickname my pupils had given me: they called me 'Frosty,' which was only partly due to my real name being Mrs Snow. According to my colleagues it was also because of a particular look I could produce whenever I found it necessary; they said it could turn boiling water to ice in five seconds flat. I try to use it sparingly, but it's been known to bring a boisterous class to obedient silence without having to say a single word -- even one that a fairly senior male teacher was failing to control.

And that was the look I gave my husband when I found him seated at the kitchen table on Saturday morning after the 'incident' at the card game the previous night. He was still clad in the pyjamas and dressing gown I'd hurled onto one of the single beds in the spare bedroom. He was nursing a cup of coffee and looking very sorry for himself - but if he expected any kind of sympathy he was wasting his time.

When I'd returned to our rented, two-bedroom bungalow the night before, I'd still been able to taste Calvin's whisky-laden breath in my mouth; so I'd spent ages brushing my teeth before stripping off and showering to wash away the memory of what had happened. From reading stories, I've never understood why so many people seem to have locks on their bedroom doors, which was why I'd had to jam a chair against the handle to stop anyone getting in. I had considered locking the front door, but that would have been a waste of time since Geoffrey never goes anywhere without his keys; but there was no way I was going to let him sleep in the same bed as me. 

I'd heard him arrive home a little over hours after I'd settled down. Allowing 20 or 30 minutes for a taxi to arrive - because they're pretty busy on Friday nights - and a maximum of another 15 for the journey; that left well over an hour during which, I imagined, the three men had held a discussion to work out some kind of damage limitation exercise.

As well as being angry with him, I was also annoyed with myself. Normally, I'm fairly sharp and able to pick up on things quickly, so I wasn't happy that I'd allowed our cosy domesticity to blind me to whatever was going on. 

Of course, there was always the possibility that it was nothing at all. I'd spent my first waking hour of the day thinking it over and wondering what the chances were that Calvin had simply mouthed-off in the heat of moment through anger at being denied his intended 'prize.' Against that, though, I had to set the reaction of my husband -- seeing his wife being grabbed and groped and apparently not being the least bit concerned about it -- which tied in with his casual attitude to my previous complaints about Calvin's behaviour. Then there was the conversation with Bob, and his assertion that Calvin had a penchant for married women and, as I now suspected, the ambiguous comment that he'd "know all about it" if Calvin tried anything with his wife.

So, although there was no proof, there was strong evidence that the card nights had been, or had become, an elaborate cover for something of a very different nature. If that was true, then four of them -- the three men, plus Marje -- were involved in it and I needed to find out more. 

For the moment, though, I had to concentrate on my dear husband.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

I was pouring myself a cup of coffee, but I paused for a moment and turned to face him. I didn't say anything and I kept my expression as neutral as I possibly could, staring at him and using the silence as a weapon. He couldn't manage to hold my gaze for long -- few people can when I adopt that look -- and he went back to staring into his coffee.

"Is that it?" I snapped, and I'll swear the temperature dropped several degrees at the sound of my voice.

"Look... I know I should have... well," he began again, still not daring to look up, "I mean... I should have stopped Calvin errm... molesting you. It was... well... I thought it was just a bit of horseplay. I thought you were just messing about... and...."

"Bullshit!" I declared, which made his head snap up because I very rarely swore (other than in moments of passion, of course, when my language often gets completely out of control!), but he still couldn't cope with my glare and he quickly turned away. Then, after a second or two to recover, he said:

"Look, Patsy... I've said I'm sorry. I know Calvin's a bit of a menace sometimes... and I'll sort it out with him... I promise. Listen... why don't we have some breakfast and we can talk...."

"Oh... you want some breakfast do you, Darling?" If he'd been looking at the expression on my face I'm sure he'd known better than to answer 'yes, please' ...but he wasn't, so: "There's stuff in the fridge... make it your fuckin' self!" is probably not what he expected to hear.

He didn't even look up as I swigged down the lukewarm coffee, but I'm pretty sure the slamming of the door must have made him wince a bit - but probably not as much as the much more satisfying sound of the front door slamming as I left the house. Then, of course, he must have heard the angry revving of the engine, followed by a squeal of tyres, as I pulled out of our short drive and hurtled down the road. 

It was all for show; and as soon as I turned the corner and was out of sight I slowed down to the legal limit. I'd already decided that I needed to make him think my anger was purely and simply about his failure to protect me from Calvin's attentions. I'd neither said, nor done, anything to let him suspect that I'd taken in what had been said about the relationship between the four of them. Even if Calvin had admitted it to him, I'd so far given no indication that I'd taken that on board. With any luck, he'd believe that I'd been too drunk or too dazed to do so -- and that would be a pretty decent card to play when the time was right.

For the moment, though, I needed someone to talk to; someone I could trust -- and who can a girl trust more than her own mother - particularly so when her mum's more highly qualified on the subject of local gossip than almost anyone else in our small town? It wasn't that she ever passed any of it on -- it was more than her job was worth - but being a part-time receptionist in the local doctor's surgery meant that, although she had to be discreet, she knew a great deal about almost everyone in the area.

I didn't hide anything from her as we chatted over a pot of tea in her small living room (she actually referred to it as her 'parlour' because she thought it sounded better), but told her the whole story.

"I take it you're talking about Marjorie Rushworth?" she asked, frowning and pursing her lips in distaste, "...the one that used to be Marjorie MacDonald?" And when I nodded, she went on:

"Well, Trish ..." (She still insisted on calling me that -- my name is Patricia -- even though everyone else called me 'Patsy'), "...I can't say I'm too impressed with the kind of company you're keeping!"

I was cautious. From past experience I knew that asking anything else would bring about what I thought of as 'the thin-lipped look of disapproval' and a lecture on how she couldn't possibly reveal anything confidential; even to someone she trusted. I also knew she was dying to tell me what she knew, so I just said:

"Well... Bob and Marje are Geoffrey's friends, really. Bob's a plumber and...."

"You don't have to tell me about Bob Rushworth!" she said and, yes, her lips drew into a thin line for a moment before she went on; "They're at the Millington's' house almost every week... and I'm sure you know that won't be to discuss world politics!"

Normally, I don't like gossip and I do my best to ignore it, but the stories about the Millingtons and their lifestyle were more the stuff of local legend than mere gossip. Grant, the head of the household, was reputed to be a complete bull of a man -- in every way -- while his wife, Kirsty, had two convictions for soliciting (I'm not sure if it's used in the same way in America, so I'll just explain that it means 'offering sex for money' and it's a crime in the UK). That had been a few years ago, though, and I was under the impression that they now lived on a mixture of social security benefits and - again according to local gossip -- some dealing in drugs. Both of their girls had been taught by me at school -- one white and one very black - and, although it had never been proved, they were strongly suspected of dealing outside school.

This, of course, threw a whole new light on my husband's card-playing friends, but it wasn't enough yet. "That doesn't mean...." I began, knowing I wouldn't get far because Mum was in full flow now.

"That's because you don't know about Marje," she said firmly and, once again, I waited in the sure and certain knowledge that my silence would provoke more.

"When she was young, Marjorie MacDonald... as she was then," Mum went on, "was known as 'ripcord.' That referred to her knickers; y'know... one quick tug? Anyway, she got pregnant when she'd just left school and her parents sent her away to have a termination. I know that's true 'cause her mother told me. They used to live three doors down from us. They were a decent family, but they felt let down and embarrassed by their daughter. They moved a few years later and I haven't a clue where they ended up. 

"But I do know that Marjorie stayed in London after she'd got rid of the kid and worked the streets. Your dad, God rest his soul, told me that a couple of his mates had gone to watch a football match at West Ham; and they'd picked her up and paid for a good time with her after the match.

"Anyway... somehow or other, she managed to snare Bob Rushworth. He brought her back here and he's kept her in style ever since. He's a good enough plumber... and he works hard... but he's also a disgusting lecher. The number of times he's tried to proposition women in the houses he was working in... well, you just wouldn't believe it!"

"Isn't that just rumour and gossip though, Mum," I asked.

"No... it certainly isn't!" she replied hotly. "When his company were putting the new bathrooms in on this estate, he tried it on with me!" I couldn't help gasping at that. I mean, you don't think about your mother being attractive to other men, do you? So I asked her when this had happened.

"About ten years ago, Trish," she informed me. "I was over fifty then and he was still in his early thirties... but that didn't seem to put him off. He cornered me in the kitchen when I was making a cuppa and his hands were all over me like a bloody rash! I was trying to push him away and I was shouting a bit... when your dad, bless him, came home! He'd forgotten his flask and was popping in to grab it. There was so much commotion going on in the kitchen that we hadn't even heard his double-decker bus stopping outside!

"Anyway... and I must say I'm glad there weren't any passengers on board it... but your dad saw what was happening. Bob tried to say something about it just being a bit of fun or something... but he didn't get far with that because my Albert decked him with a single punch! I hadn't realised just how strong your dad was until then, because he was always such a gentle person, as you know... but he just picked Bob up by what he called 'the scruff of the neck and the ass of his pants,' carried him down the hallway, and threw him bodily into the rosebush in the middle of the garden. 

"Well, the thorns on the roses soon had Bob awake and yelling like a baby... but Albert just leaned over him and told him that if he ever so much as looked at me again he'd rip his... well... y'know, his 'thingies' off him. He could be crude like that, at times, your dad... God rest him!

"Stop catching flies!" she suddenly ordered and I snapped my mouth shut obediently as I realised what she meant. But it was hardly surprising that my jaw had dropped like that; not only had I learned a great deal about Bob and Marje, I'd also found out about a side of my father that I'd never seen. He'd always been such a loving, gentle and quietly-spoken man.

"Anyway," she said, "I can't sit here chatting all day. I've got to go and get the chapel ready for the choir practice tonight." I rose from the chair and buttoned my coat and, as I did, she said:

"There's just one thing more I'll tell you, Trish. If that stupid husband of yours is involved with people like that then you need to get tested for any diseases. I can't tell you who I mean, of course, but there are people 'round your way that get it done regularly... and sometimes have to get treatment for them!"

Afterwards, I drove out into the countryside to sort my thoughts out a bit. I'd already realised that Mum had very carefully avoided giving any information that stemmed from her employment and I had to admire her subtlety about that. She'd also made an appointment for me with the nurse -- a friend whose discretion she could rely on -- to take a blood sample on Monday at lunchtime. I was dreading it, even though it was necessary, because I have a thing about needles; but I remember a pupil's mother telling me to wait until I had children; Then, she'd said, "Your arm'll get more pricks than a cut-price tart!" I wonder what made me think of that.

When I arrived at the layby that was one of my favourite spots -- high up in the hills with a view across a wonderfully verdant glen and a distant waterfall, I unwrapped the meat&potato pie I'd bought along the way and opened the little bottle of Dandelion & Burdoch. They were a rare indulgence and I knew I'd probably get heartburn, but I didn't care.

Some things were already clear: if Geoffrey had indulged in any kind of sexual relationship with Marje -- if he'd deceived me -- the marriage was over. There was no question about that and, if it turned out that he'd brought home any kind of sexual disease then, instead of a straightforward and simple divorce -- two years separation was the customary way -- I would set about taking him apart. I don't mean physically, of course -- but there are plenty of other ways. 

I was still finding it all hard to believe because I hadn't, even for a moment, sensed that there had been anything wrong with our relationship. Without being boastful, I thought I'd done a pretty good job as far as being a housewife was concerned: despite having a full-time occupation I'd always been content to do the cooking and cleaning and, if he sometimes gave a hand with it I never failed to show my appreciation. That was the way I was brought up.

Our activity in the bedroom may have slowed down a little since the heady days at the beginning of our lives together, but it was still pretty lively. I may have been 'Frosty' at school -- but I certainly wasn't at home! I had never refused sex without a very good reason for doing so; not because I just wanted to please my husband, but because I loved it. I loved the feeling of closeness; loved having his hands explore every part of my body and loved to arouse him with my touches. I was more than happy to give him blow jobs when he wanted them, perfectly willing to try any position that either of us fancied and freely express the pleasure that he gave me.

I'd even indulged some of his fantasies; buying clothes that he wanted to see me wearing and acting out the parts he suggested, then purchasing sex toys that either he or I could use to pleasure me. I'd even gone along with a little bit of mild bondage (without giving any hint about how much I disliked it) and, when he'd found an Internet site with stories of 'adventurous' wives, I'd helped him act out the ones he enjoyed -- but only behind closed and locked doors!

Now, of course, I realised that the penny ought to have dropped when he started on that -- and even more so when, a few months earlier; he'd asked if I'd ever considered doing anything like that for real. At first I'd just laughed it off but, when he kept bringing it up again, I'd eventually given him 'the frost look' -- big style -- and he'd known better than to ever mention it again. Was that what he really wanted, I wondered? If so, he was asking the wrong person. No matter how much I enjoyed sex, it was something I enjoyed with my partner -- and it was too personal, too important, and too precious to be shared with others.

Now, though, it seemed that he felt differently -- that there was a side of him that I didn't know -- and that was what hurt the most. I knew about temptation; knew how easy it could be to fall prey to it because, over the past few years there had been several males (and a couple of females!) who'd made it clear that they fancied me - and there'd been times when I'd felt my body responding -- but I'd always told my husband about them. I had never kept anything secret and it meant I had nothing to feel guilty about. That was how I'd dealt with any feelings of temptation. 

For the first time, I felt a couple of tears trickle down my cheeks. I'm not a tearful person -- and I dislike women who can turn that tap on to get their own way -- but I was completely alone on the hillside so I didn't have anyone to hide from and I let them flow for a little while. Eventually, after blowing my nose on a tissue and repairing my make-up, I pulled myself together took a deep breath and slipped back into trying to deal with my situation. 

My first step would be to obtain proof of what, if anything (I still clung to a faint hope!), Geoffrey had been up to on his card nights. If he'd been cheating on me and deceiving me then there was no hope for any future together -- that much was certain. At the same time, I didn't see any reason why the others should get away with it.

For more than two hours I just sat there, occasionally switching the engine on to warm the car, while I tried to devise a plan that would bring retribution not only to Geoffrey, but to Marje and Bob and -- most of all -- to Calvin. I thought of all kinds of things -- many of them based on 'revenge' stories I'd read on the Internet -- my head filled with all the stupid tales of hiring private investigators, using electronic equipment to monitor what people were up to, protecting 401ks (I've absolutely no idea what they are!) and all the other things I'd read about. But they were for a fantasy world and this was real life.

It was starting to rain and I could see a few flecks of snow amongst the droplets. It wouldn't be a good idea to be driving that narrow road if it worsened, so I started the car and began to head homewards - still having no idea what to do. 

I tried to concentrate on the realities. To begin with, we didn't have any joint bank accounts -- we'd never seen the need for any. The rent for the bungalow came out of my money, the utilities from Geoffrey's, and everything else was similarly split between us. If our marriage ended, there wouldn't be any financial problems to sort out. We didn't have any children so that, as things stood at that time, a divorce by consent would take two years of separation or, if either party objected, five years. The grounds for divorce would be 'irreconcilable differences' since anything else -- such as adultery or abuse - was normally only mentioned when there were issues involving the division of assets or financial maintenance. If that was to be my course, then it was clearer than the road I was driving along. As the enormity of my thoughts came home to me, I almost began to cry again -- but I took a really deep breath, resolved to be strong and, a few minutes later, turned into our drive.




Cheating At Cards Ch. 03



INTRODUCTION FROM CHAPTER 02

"You mean you'd like to come with us? Oh... that's brilliant, Patsy! There's just the three of us tonight and we'd love to have you along! Please say you'll come... we're meeting up at the Regency bar at seven and...."

I picked up the note my husband had left.

Underneath the bit about having a meal out tonight), I scribbled:

"I've made other arrangements. Don't wait up!"

CHEATING AT CARDS CH 03

"Where the hell have you been 'til now?" was the greeting I received on Sunday afternoon.

Geoffrey, I guessed, had probably been watching through the front room window for my arrival, and must have seen me paying the taxi driver. He was ready and waiting for me in the little hallway and the words were out of his mouth the moment I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

I didn't bother to reply as he carefully looked me over – obviously taking in the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra and my legs were bare. He may not have been the most observant husband in the world, but he knew me well enough to know that I'd never dream of going for an evening out without tights or bra. He also had enough time to notice that my make-up had been quickly and carelessly applied and that my long, blonde hair hadn't been brushed properly.

"Well?" he demanded as I kept my head down and brushed past him.

"I've been out!" I replied and, without looking back, headed for the bathroom, saying; "You can put the kettle on, if you like... I'm just going for a quick shower." 

I'd no idea what the reaction was to that because I went in and locked the door. By the time I'd removed my watch and earrings and stripped off the only clothes I was wearing – my skirt and jumper – I could hear him knocking on the door.

"Patsy... we need to talk...."

But I'd turned the shower on to full power by then, so I just called out: "I can't hear you! I'll have a coffee... a large one! I won't be long." Then I stepped under the powerful spray of hot water and hoped it might help to ease the tension from my complaining limbs. A hot bath would have been better, but there simply wasn't room for one in our tiny bathroom.

When I'd finished and was drying off, my nerves were starting to get the better of me but, reasoning that there was no way of going back now, I took a deep breath and slipped into the dressing gown I'd left hanging on the back of the door the previous afternoon.

Geoffrey wasn't, as I'd expected, waiting outside; I could hear the sounds of him pottering around in the kitchen, so I went into the bedroom to use the drier and brush my hair properly. I'd just finished when I heard him ask where I wanted the coffee, so I called back: "In the front room," and conducted a final assessment of my appearance.

Was the underwear plain and boring? Check! Hair tied back in a severe-looking bun? Check! No make-up; shapeless and unflattering dressing gown, along with incredibly ugly, fluffy slippers with a raised image of Minnie Mouse on the toes? All present and correct. 

Let the mind games begin, I thought.

The front room was warm and cosy with the curtains drawn and the lighting dimmed. Geoffrey was sat in an armchair, sipping what appeared to be a glass of his favourite tipple. He was also doing his damndest to appear relaxed, at ease and in charge – but his tension was palpable. 

"Thank you, Dear," I trilled brightly as I picked up the mug of coffee he'd prepared for me and then, when I'd made myself comfortable in the armchair opposite his, I nodded in the direction of the blank TV screen and said: "No sport on tonight?"

It was so much like watching a dog's hackles rise that I almost expected him to bark but, taking a deep breath to control himself, he gritted his teeth and snapped: "I'm waiting for you to tell me where you were last night. And don't say your mum's house, because I called her!"

Now that, I thought, was like an unnecessary waste of a trump. No wonder he didn't win his whist games very often. I blew on my coffee as if it was scalding hot (it was little better than lukewarm by then), sipped at it and then, deliberately keeping my eyes lowered, answered:

"I went out. I had a night out with a few friends... okay?" 

"And stayed out all fuckin' night!" he snapped angrily, "Where the fuck were you?"

"There's no need for that kind of language," I declared sweetly, then paused to take a deep swig of my drink before it cooled too much before saying, "We went to a few pubs and clubs... had a bit too much to drink... stayed out late and enjoyed ourselves. It was a lot of fun!"

"Fun? FUN?" he practically roared, "So where did your 'fun' end up? Where did you sleep?"

"That's none of your business," I declared coolly, then took another long swig of coffee.

"None of my... I'm your husband!" he bellowed. He was clearly getting close to breaking point, so I responded in a deliberately low and measured tone.

"You're my husband... really? Well... maybe we have different definitions about that? I mean, I would expect someone who claimed to be my husband to leap to my defence when I'm being groped by some absolute pig of a man! In fact, I'd expect my husband to intervene when I was clearly in danger of being raped. Is that too much, d'you think? Or do you think it's more reasonable for a husband to just smile and grab a beer... leaving the rapist to get on with it while he disappeared to nurse his hard-on?"

Okay, the 'hard-on' bit was just a guess, but the way he flushed with embarrassment was enough to tell me that I'd struck gold.

"You're exaggerating!" was the best response he could manage, and even that was a barely heard mumble. He tried to get his inquisition back on track (it clearly wasn't going the way he'd expected it to), by saying; "Anyway... we're talking about you... and what you were up to last night."

"Are we? Okay, then," I said, "What if I told you that I rang Calvin and went over to his place? What if I told you we had sex in every way imaginable... alright? What if I told you that, eh?"

"I'd know it wasn't true," he declared with certainty.

"Oh? And how can you be so sure?" I asked.

"Because Calvin was here with me, Patsy! We went to the match, had a few beers... and then he came back here. He slept on the couch!"

"Why? I thought you wanted to go out for a meal. If you were expecting that... why did you bring Calvin back with you?" 

"I don't know! Maybe he wanted to apologise, y'know? I mean... maybe he wanted to say sorry for whatever happened the other night... how would I know?"

I had never seen Geoffrey look as shifty as he did at that moment: he fidgeted; he looked intently at the blank TV screen, and then he reached for the bottle of Lamb's Navy rum to top his glass up with a hand that was clearly trembling.

You know the expression 'my blood ran cold'? Well, I'd never thought about it before but, as the cogs met and drove everything into place in my mind, I understood it.

"He was lying in wait for me... wasn't he?" I managed to whisper.

I watched the shake of Geoffrey's head, saw him struggle to find the words he needed, but all he could manage was very hoarse, "No... of course not," before taking a very large swig of the brownish liquid. But I was seeing the picture now. I could see the pair of them, possibly a bit worse the wear, deciding it would be a good idea to try to make peace with me – Calvin probably insisting that he wanted to tell me, face to face, that he hadn't intended to hurt me and hadn't meant what he'd said.

Then they'd found the note and things had changed. Calvin (because I'd no doubt that he was the driving force between them), had seen an opportunity for something else. I could see him picturing me coming home after possibly drinking too much (he'd have been right about that!) and, knowing full well that Geoffrey wouldn't interfere, being able to force me into submission. I felt my stomach churning at the thought of it, but my husband was just staring into his glass as if it held the answer to all the mysteries of the universe as the silence continued until I couldn't stand it any longer.

"You spineless bastard!" I said, very slowly, and saw him wince as if he'd been shot in the back. "You were sitting here with that... that animal! You were waiting for me to come home... and you were quite prepared to let him... no, to watch him... fuck me! You were... weren't you? Well? Answer me, you pathetic streak of...."

"No!" he suddenly yelled as he threw his glass to smash loudly in the empty fireplace. "It wasn't like that! He was certain that you just needed a bit of gentle persuasion. He said he can see that you fancy him really... that you just need... you just...." And then the burst of anger subsided as quickly as it had arisen and he slumped back in the chair.

I had to push aside the uninvited thought that the shattered tumbler had been part of a set given to me as a wedding present by pupils at the school (it's amazing the things that invade your mind when you're stressed!) and concentrate on the matter in hand.

"So... while I was out enjoying myself with my friends," I said, trying not to let too much venom creep into my voice, "you were helping Calvin to set an ambush for me."

"No... it wasn't... I mean it..." he whimpered and then, "You don't understand, Patsy... you just don't understand."

At that moment, I felt the utmost contempt for the man I'd shared five years of my life with. In fact, I couldn't really recognise the person I'd fallen in love with at all; was this the husband I'd trusted with all of my hopes and dreams and ambitions, the man I'd given total freedom to explore and enjoy my body and whose own body I'd welcomed so joyfully into mine? They were thoughts that suddenly made my flesh feel as if it was crawling and it was difficult to drag my mind back to the present to make the final pieces slot into place.

"What kind of hold has he got over you, Geoffrey?" I asked, deliberately keeping my voice as calm and as even as I could.

"Nothing... no... it's not like that. It's..." he began to say, with no conviction whatsoever.

"Please, Geoffrey... I can't help if you won't tell me. And I can't stay here if I'm under threat of assault... or worse... from Calvin."

I gave him plenty of time to absorb what I was saying but, when it didn't succeed in drawing a response, I gave a very loud theatrical sigh and said; "Okay... if you can't tell me... and I know you won't protect me... you don't leave me any choice." And I started to get up.

"Where're you going?"

"I'm going to pack a bag... then I'll be heading over to my mum's house," I informed him, trying to inject a note of deep resignation into the words.

"You can't! Please, Patsy... don't! You can't do this to me!" he said, his voice rising into anger as he followed me to the bedroom saying; "For God's sake! You haven't even told me where you were last night!"

"Does it matter?"

"Are you kidding?" he was shouting by this time, "When you come home with no bra... no knickers... no tights... and a bloody great love-bite on your neck. Then you're straight into the shower as soon as you get home!"

"It's quite a small love-bite, actually," I corrected him as I pulled out a holdall and began to load some clothes into it, feeling glad that my appearance had been effective enough to make him rummage through the washing basket to see if there were any knickers there (another good card wasted). "Anyway... if you're determined to keep a secret about whatever it is between you and Calvin, then whatever happened last night is going to remain my secret. Okay?"

By that time I'd piled enough clothes in the bag so I removed the dressing gown and started to pull on a roll-neck sweater and a pair of trousers. While I bustled around he continued to plead with me to 'be reasonable,' as I began to bundle my lotions and creams into the bag. Then I went to the bathroom and emerged to say:

"I've only taken my toothbrush, hairbrush and birth control pills. Mum'll have anything else I need."

I think it was the way I brandished the half-empty strip of tablets that really got to him. He tried, just once more, to beg me to stay – but it was a feeble effort.

"Listen, Geoffrey," I told him as I was reaching for my coat, "as long as Calvin has this hold over you... whatever it is... I can't even begin to feel safe here; you must understand that. When you tell me about that... whatever it is... it may give us a chance to sort it out. And then I'll be prepared to tell you what I got up to last night... but not before!"

"Alright!" he practically yelled and then, after a pause to quieten down, "I'll tell you... but you've got to tell me first!"

I laughed, of course, because it sounded exactly like the kind of arguments I heard in the school playground almost every day as we batted responsibility back and forth until, eventually, I came up with the compromise I'd actually planned to use.

"Very well, Geoffrey," I conceded, unintentionally slipping into the tone I regularly used with some of my more difficult pupils, "If that's what you need, I'll start... but here's what I'm going to do. I'll tell you the plain and simple truth about the first part of my night out and then, when I reach a certain point – I'll let you know when – I'll stop."

He looked puzzled and distinctly worried, for which I could hardly blame him, so I hurried on: "And then I'll give you two very different versions of what happened after that... without telling you what the truth actually is...."

"But... what?"

"...Then, if you tell me the truth, we can sort things out and...."

"I'm not sure. I don't think...." He tried to say, but I insisted that it was a simple 'yes' or 'no' and I knew he wouldn't be able to refuse because, for the first time, I was seeing just how weak he was.

Fifteen minutes later we sat facing each other across the kitchen table, both of us now supplied with fresh coffee. He had attempted to persuade me to unpack the holdall, but that was still intact on the hall table. As I'd told him, if he tried to renege on his part of the bargain – or if I had the slightest suspicion that he was lying, or holding out on me - I'd be gone.

"Right... well..." I began, "we all met up at the Regency bar and...."

"Errm... who's we?"

"Oh, right... sorry. Well, there was Alexa. She's a fairly new teacher at the school and she's still young. She's quite attractive, but she's also a little bit wild... and she tends to wear the kind of clothes that scream 'come and get me,' if you know what I mean. As a matter of fact she's had to be reminded about the dress-code at school a couple of times.

"Then there was her friend, Susan. She works in a lawyer's office. She's about my age but she's a lot like Alexa; a real party girl... and she soaks up attention. They're both single, free to do whatever they wish... and making the most of it, I suppose. The other member of the group was Muriel. She's a year or two older than me and she's married... well, she was, but she's separated from her hus...."

"Muriel?" Geoffrey gasped with a look of absolute horror on his face, "You don't mean...?"

"The very same," I smiled, trying not to look to self-satisfied and hoping I hadn't played an ace too soon, "The lady who left Calvin and tried to scuttle back to her husband when 'divorce' was first mentioned!"

I saw his face fall as he began to worry about how much I already knew and I felt the big card had been played correctly, but I let him stew in those thoughts as I continued to carry out my side of the bargain.

"Yes... she's moved into an apartment since her husband threw her out. She's okay financially, as far as I can tell... she's a chartered accountant and earning good money... but I think she's a bit lonely now that she realises there's no way back in her marriage.

"Anyway... we had a bottle of white wine between us in the Regency, and then we shared a taxi into the city. We started off at the Queen's; then we moved on to the Prince of Wales and finished up at Murphy's bar. I stuck to white wine while we were in the pubs because I knew I'd have to pace myself very carefully.

"It was really good, y'know? I mean, I haven't had a girls' night out for a very long time and I enjoyed the chatter and everything. Anyway... while we were in Murphy's, before we decide on which club we were going to, both Alexa and Susan made it clear they were looking to 'pull' later. It was just to let me and Muriel know not to worry if they suddenly did a disappearing act. I think Muriel looked a bit sort of 'wistful' when they said that. I think she'd already worked out that I wasn't looking for any kind of adventure.

"So we moved on a little bit after eleven... before the queues built up outside the clubs... and we were able to get into 'Diamonds' and get our own table before it became too crowded.

"But... oh, my God! Have you been in one of those places lately? No... of course you haven't... but let me tell you something; I'm not even thirty yet... but I felt like a grannie in that place! They were all so young! They're supposed to be at least twenty-one to get into that club but... sorry... anyway, we got ourselves another round of drinks and Alexa and Susan were up dancing almost right from the off.

"Muriel and me tried to chat... but the noise level was unbelievable. Honestly... it's a wonder no one ends up deaf! The trouble is, of course, that when you're just sitting there and watching you tend to go through the drinks too quickly... and I know I had more than I should have done. What made it worse was that drinks just kept appearing in front us because the guys that were chasing Alexa and Susan were being made to send them over for us.

"Of course, the girls got us up to dance a few times, but the floor was so crowded you could hardly move. Mind you... I did have my backside felt a couple of time, but I couldn't see who was doing it!" I recalled with a grin.

"It was getting late and I dare say the drinks had loosened me up quite a bit... I was definitely having fun, anyway. We were down to two – the others must have 'pulled' – when the DJ announced 'last orders' for drinks. I guess it must have been around three o'clock because they want everyone out by half-past.

"I was dancing... not with anyone in particular, just a gang of females strutting their stuff – when they started to play some slow numbers to wind it all down. The crowd was starting to thin out and I was just about to head off the dance floor when I heard someone say: "Well... if it isn't Miss Frosty herself! What are you doing here, Patsy?' and when I turned around I found myself looking at Jimmy Murdoch.

"I don't know if you remember him... but you met him at a couple of school functions when he used to teach PE. He was the really big, good-looking guy with the gentle, Irish voice? No? Well, he went somewhere else when they offered him a department head's job. 

"Anyway, we started having a dance together. It's the first time I've been happy to let another man put his arms around me since the day you and I got together! He told me he'd been out with a gang from the rugby team he plays for, but they seemed to deserted him, so we had a few dances and a bit of a talk about old times... and then he escorted me back to the table.

"And that's when I found that the glasses had all been cleared away and there was no sign of Muriel!"

I paused in my narrative then and looked to see how Geoffrey was taking it. To be honest, that was difficult to judge; he looked a bit worried, but it was also clear that he was fascinated – possibly excited – by what I was telling him.

"And that's where the simple truth ends," I told him. "This is where I start to tell you two different versions of what happened on my night out. Are you ready? Do you want me to continue?"




Cheating At Cards Ch. 04



INTRODUCTION FROM CH 03

"And that's where the simple truth ends," I told him. "This is where I start to tell you two different versions of what happened on my night out. Are you ready? Do you want me to continue?"

He nodded.

"Okay," I said taking a very deep breath to control my nerves; knowing that both accounts had to be equally convincing, "This is the first version... but remember... don't try to judge it until you've heard both of them." 

CH 04

"I'm going to tell it like a story," I said, "and I don't want any interruptions or any questions. If any of it upsets you, tell me and I'll stop... but if you do that, I won't carry on afterwards; I'll just leave it there! Is that okay?"

He nodded, clearly more nervous than ever; and so, after a moment or two, I began:

"Okay... so the Diamonds nightclub was about to close. Muriel had disappeared and I was with Jimmy. I stared helplessly at the clean table and, befuddled as I was, tried to work out what I needed to do. I knew I had some money left in my purse and it would normally be enough to see me home in a taxi... but they charge double rates between midnight and six and I knew I didn't have enough for that.

'"I heard Jimmy say, 'Looks like both of us have been left to our own devices, doesn't it?' and I suddenly realised that I was clutching his hand. 'How're you getting home?' he asked me as I freed my hand and started rummaging through the small clutch-bag I'd brought with me... desperately hoping that there might be another tenner hidden under the few bits & pieces of make-up I'd brought with me.

"But apart from the five pound note, all I found was some small change, which didn't even add up to another pound. I'd intending sharing a cab with Muriel and, to be honest, I was going get dropped off at Mum's house -- I've got her spare key -- to stay there for the night just to teach you a lesson. I mean, I don't know what time you rang her..."

"It was nearly one o'clock!" he interjected, momentarily forgetting about not interrupting; but that was exactly what I'd hoped for and I let him ramble for a moment to add; "She was really annoyed at me and told me not to ring her again. I did risk it again later but I think she left the phone off the hook!"

'Excellent!' I thought, 'the only ace he had left and he's just let me trump it.'

"Anyway... never mind all that," I said, doing my best to sound irritated, "Do you want me to go on or not?"

He nodded and gave a mumbled apology, so I went on:

"Jimmy offered to lend me some cash, but I couldn't accept it because I'd no idea when I'd see him again so, after dithering a bit, we decided to share. The idea was that he'd get dropped off first and then he'd make sure I had enough money to get to my mum's. 

"But the trouble started as soon as I got outside in the cold fresh air and the alcohol really seemed to begin hitting me; I started to feel really bad, swayed a lot... and then I threw up! I'd had far too much to drink, so it shouldn't have been a surprise, I suppose... but it's a good job Jimmy was with me because all the drivers on the rank had seen it and I don't think they'd have agreed to take me if I'd been on my own! Even the one who took us wasn't exactly happy... but at least I didn't get sick again. 

"The trouble was though, that it's a fair distance to where Jimmy lives -- about ten miles south of here -- and it was such a relief to be safe and sound that, somewhere along the way, I must have just leaned against him and fallen asleep.

"Actually... no... strike that! I didn't just fall asleep... I passed out! And the next bit I only know from what Jimmy told me later. 

Apparently, when we got to his place, he tried everything he could to wake me... but all he got was a load of rambling nonsense before I went out like a light again! The taxi driver, of course, wasn't willing to take me on my own in that condition; he said something like that had happened to him before, and when he'd tried to haul the woman out of the cab she'd suddenly started screaming that he was trying to rape her and some of her neighbours had called the police.

"So by that time the cabbie wasn't in a particularly cooperative mood. He absolutely refused to go to my mum's and then back to Jimmy's, even with the promise of a large tip, because he said he was tired, it was his last run of the night and he wanted to go home -- which was over on the Heatherlanes estate. In the end, I suppose there was no point in arguing so Jimmy just picked me up and carried me into his house. I have a very vague memory of being laid down and some sort of cover being put over me... and then I was completely out for the count again.

"I don't think I slept for very long because when I woke up, absolutely desperate for the toilet; it was still dark outside. It felt as if I was in the middle of a nightmare... the kind where you can't really be sure whether you're awake or still dreaming... and I remember trying to work out where the bathroom was. That's the trouble with being so used to living in a bungalow... you forget about 'upstairs.' Eventually, despite my addled condition, I managed to work it out and... God alone knows how... I also managed to get up the stairs without either making too much noise or falling and breaking my neck! Unfortunately, it was all just a bit late... because I peed a bit in my knickers before I could get them down! I know I took them off... well, obviously... but I've no idea what I did with them. They're probably still in his house somewhere!

"The next thing I can remember is waking up with a stinking headache... naked and all alone in a big, double bed. 

"Jimmy told me later that he'd heard me stumbling around in the bathroom for quite a while before the cistern flushed and then, a few moments later, I staggered into the bedroom, took the rest of my clothes off and slipped in between the covers! I really have no memory whatsoever of doing that! You can't even begin to imagine how embarrassed I was when he told me about it!

"And it didn't help one little bit when he told me how tempting it had been for him! Apparently, he'd fancied me for quite some time... since we were teaching at the same school... although he'd never let on to me before. So, when I suddenly stripped off like that and climbed into his bed, I suppose he must have thought....

"Well... I'm sure you'll understand the kind of things he must have thought! The thing was, though, that he controlled himself... and he really did behave like a perfect gentleman. As soon as he was certain I was asleep... by the way, do I really snore loudly when I've been drinking? No, never mind about that. Once he knew I was sleeping, he sneaked out of bed and went downstairs. 

"He ended up spending the night on the two-seater couch where he'd originally put me. God only knows how he was able to do that! I'm five-three as you know... but he's well over six-foot, and pretty solidly built, too... so it couldn't have been a comfortable experience for him and I really can't imagine that he got very much sleep.

"Well, I'd not long woken up and I was still a bit disoriented when I heard him tap on the door and ask if it was okay to come in. I could hardly refuse, could I? It was his bedroom in his house after all! So I said 'yes' or, rather, I groaned something that sounded like it.

"And I have to tell you, it was a very strange situation. I'd become extremely aware of the fact that I was naked by this time, and I'd pulled the covers right up so it was just my head and my fingers that were visible... when he came into the room with a big, beaming smile on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand. 'Frosty this morning, isn't it?' he said and, even though it was corny, I couldn't help but return the smile.

"He was wearing a pair of pyjama bottoms, but no top, and I found my gaze wandering from his cheerful smile to the mass of curly hair on his chest and, if I'm really honest, to the very well-toned muscles. He's big and he's broad, but he doesn't seem to be carrying an ounce of spare of spare flab anywhere. I watched him as he carefully put the cup down onto top of the cabinet on the side I was occupying and I queried why he wasn't having any. But he told me he'd already had two cups while he'd been waiting for me to wake up. I hadn't realised until then that it was almost noon!

"Being a gentleman, he was about to leave me to it but I wanted to know exactly what had happened the night before. I mean, I could tell that nothing had happened between us... but I needed to know how it was that I'd ended up, stark naked, in his bed. It was while he explained what had happened that I got the first indications that he really fancied me. I can't be sure how many times the phrase 'if I hadn't known that you're married' came into it... but it was certainly more than once. 

"Eventually, I learned that he'd put my clothes in his washer-drier because there'd been some vomit on them, and that they weren't quite ready yet. He told me I was welcome to take a shower... that there were fresh towels and one of his old dressing gowns in the bathroom... and he'd wait for me downstairs. After he'd left... and I'd heard him go down the stairs... I drank the coffee, had a shower, and put the dressing gown on. 

"It was absolutely huge! If it was full-length on him, you can only imagine what it must have been like on me! I must have looked an awful sight in it... but at least it covered me up! I headed back to the bedroom to pick up my watch and my earrings which I'd left there while I showered. I was feeling a lot better by then but, just as I turned to leave, I must have stepped on the hem of the dressing gown because I lost my balance, stumbled a bit, and fell headlong... half on the bed and half on the floor! It obviously made a bit of noise because he came charging up the stairs to see what had happened yelling, 'Patsy! Are you alright, Patsy?'

"I didn't know whether to laugh or cry! I mean, I hadn't hurt myself or anything... but I felt so stupid! The damned dressing gown seemed to have wrapped itself around me and I was struggling to free myself and get to my feet again; but by that time he was in the room, picking me up as if I weighed nothing at all; and gently putting me down on the bed, even though I kept protesting that I was 'fine.'

"But all the time, something was happening to me. I didn't understand it at first... but I think it was something to do with the strength of the man... about the way he could pick me up so easily... as if I was nothing more than a rag doll, and just put me down again so gently. It made me feel so helpless but so... how can I explain it... so safe and secure when he held me. And then there was this kind of raw, animal, smell from him that made me feel dizzy. It sounds stupid just saying it but... he was so incredibly masculine that I could actually sense my temperature rising!

"Without even being aware of what I was doing, I curled my arms around his neck when he lifted me and then, when he'd put me down on the bed and attempted to move away I... I just held on to him! I just clung to him, Geoffrey... I couldn't help myself!

"He tried again to move away from me, very gently... but I wouldn't... just couldn't... let go of him. Our eyes met and I could see the desire in him and feel the heat in myself. I heard his voice whispering; 'Patsy... you're married. We....' But I didn't want to hear that... I wanted him! I heard my own voice saying "pretend I'm not... please," and then I brought my face up to his and... and I kissed him!

"He was still unsure... I could see that... but I didn't care. Our lips met... barely brushed together... and then his resistance seemed to crumble. I felt his arms start to tighten around me again... gently at first and then his lips were pressing firmly on mine and it was as if some smouldering embers had been breathed into life and a fire was beginning to rage inside me.

"There was never a chance of it being any kind of slow and gentle seduction... it was wild and fierce! We kissed again and again and the belt holding the dressing gown he'd lent me came undone as he eased himself down onto the bed beside me. I brought one hand down to run my fingers through the hairs on his chest, and then moved it again because I wanted to feel the friction of them on my breasts and against my nipples. It felt so wonderful... I just kept kissing him... pushing my tongue into his mouth ...and my head was spinning from the way it made me feel.

"There were no thoughts after that... it was purely touches and responses... entirely physical... simply a fire-fuelled lust that was blazing out of control! I can't even remember the sequence of events properly because it was as if I'd been swept up and hurled into an entirely new plane of existence.

"I know I was muttering encouragement when he toyed with my breasts... that I practically erupted when he sucked on my nipples and, above all, that I immediately spread my legs apart when his hand moved down between them. 

"When he touched me there, it was almost as if I'd been hit by a bolt of lightning! His finger slipped inside of me so easily that I must have been soaking wet; and he only had to move it... very gently... before I exploded with the most incredible climax!

"Words that I can't even recall were pouring from me ... in between all the gasps and groans... and I was wriggling and squirming to try to get him on top of me... while he was desperately struggling to push his pyjama pants down and attempting to kick free of them. And then he was in place... ready... and he held back for a second or two until our eyes met... until he was able to be absolutely certain that it was what I wanted... but there was no thought of anything else at that moment! And then the tip of his cock began to open me, very slowly... to open me wide... and wider still; until I thought that it was actually going to hurt me... but then the head of it entered. I could feel my flesh contracting around it so tenaciously that I wanted to scream with the joy of that feeling.

"I fastened my arms around him as tightly as I could... clinging to him with all the strength I possessed as I kissed his neck... so fiercely that I left marks all over it... and I lifted my legs up to try to wrap them around him as well and give him all the access that he could want. He had far more self-control than I did... and it was probably just as well because he was able to ease gently into me, bit by bit... to give me time to become accustomed to the way it stretched my insides. 

"Whether it was length or girth that made the difference, I've no idea... but he seemed to fill me in a way I wouldn't have believed possible before then. I think I was actually sobbing from the pleasure he was giving me. I'm certain I wasn't able to say anything that was coherent... just a helpless stream of babbling words that probably made no sense at all... and once he began to ease in and out of me... well... I can't even put it into words! I was yelping like a dog... practically screaming his name and urging him on. 

"At that moment I just wanted him to take me... to have me... as completely as it's possible for a man to have a woman; and he responded perfectly. He managed to hold back somehow... for a while... God knows how, because I felt as if I was practically trying to milk him with my internal muscles. But he lasted long enough for me to reach two more shattering orgasms... so intense that they actually frightened me... before he finally began to gasp and to lose that wonderful rhythm he'd found. 

"The greatest fear I had then was that he'd try to withdraw... because I didn't want him to! I wanted all of him... everything he had. And, the way I clutched him must have let him know that because, finally, with a groan that was more like a triumphal roar, I felt those astonishing and wonderful spasms deep inside me. It was absolutely glorious because, with each powerful twitch he seemed to expand inside me and allow me even greater sensations... and it seemed to go on and on as if it would never end!

"By the time it finally stopped, we were both desperately fighting to draw gulps of air into our lungs but we carried on kissing each other feverishly until eventually, and still reluctantly, I released him and allowed him to roll off to one side. But we kept our arms around each other and we continued with our gentle touches and soft kisses until, before too long, we drifted off to sleep.

"Heaven only knows how long I slept for but, when I eventually woke, I realised that it was nearly four o'clock and you have no idea how much I panicked! I was relieved that he'd turned over in his sleep because it meant that I was able to ease myself out of bed without disturbing him. I had to leave the dressing gown behind because he was lying partly on top of it, so I was naked when I fled down the stairs. I managed to find my way to his utility room, opened the washing machine and emptied it; but, no matter how much I searched, I simply couldn't find my bra.

"In the end, I was in such a state of frenzy that I decided just to leave it. I also had to dump my tights because they were torn beyond repair (I've no idea how that happened), so I ended up dressed in what I had left and quietly escaped from the house.  

I'd no real idea where I actually was, so I walked to the end of the road and found the street sign before switching my phone back on and calling for a taxi. I was hoping I could get home and into the bathroom before you could notice the state I was in... make-up hurriedly applied and hair roughly brushed while I was in the back of the cab... but you were waiting for me."

I stopped then and waited for my husband's reaction. All the way through my narrative I'd been observing him very carefully and those observations had virtually confirmed what I'd suspected. It seemed as if I'd only had to hand him a spade for him to start digging himself into a hole.

Not once had there been any sign of anger - the kind of perfectly natural response I would have expected from someone who genuinely loved me; and the look of excitement in his eyes had been unmistakable. Several times, I'd watched him shift as if he was feeling uncomfortable, but it was pretty obvious from the way he moved that he was trying to get more comfortable with the erection that was probably straining inside his trousers -- and the truth of that became apparent when I asked him if he'd mind getting me a glass of lemonade, because it was sticking out like a tent-pole when he stood up.

I watched him closely as he poured my drink and, this time, helped himself to another glass of his rum. "So... what ... I mean....?" He began to say as he handed me my glass, but I held my hand up to quieten him, and said;

"That's just the first version of what happened, Geoffrey. If you want to stop right there and believe that it's the truth... well, that's your choice. But I'd prefer you to hear the alternative report of what I did last night first."

His face fell and I could see him struggle to come to a decision. Even as he nodded his agreement and moved to sit down again, I'd swear I saw his erection begin to wilt beneath the material of his trousers. And I understood exactly how he felt because, while I'd been telling the story, it had produced a glow inside me that was surprisingly warm.

"If you're ready," I told him, "I'll start on the second one. It's very different and it's a lot shorter than the first but remember... when I've finished it, I won't be telling you what's true until you've told me everything about yourself and Calvin... okay?"

Once again, he just nodded and I could see him sink him into despair. The knowledge that I'd spent part of the evening with Muriel -- Calvin's recent mistress -- probably made him believe it would be almost impossible to lie when it came to his 'confession,' and I'm pretty sure that it must have been enough to completely deflate the erection my first story produced.




Cheating At Cards Ch. 04



"Right, then," I began, "we go back to where Jimmy and I were stepping off the dance floor. 

"I wasn't the least bit surprised to find that Muriel wasn't there any longer. I'd talked to her quite a lot during the course of the evening and she'd opened up to me when she realised who I was... and my connection, through you, to Calvin. I won't go into what she said... you can tell me about it when it's your turn to talk... for the moment I'll only say that it was quite an eye-opener!

"I was feeling... well, let's say I wasn't feeling any pain, okay? I'd had far more to drink than I ever would normally... and I was a bit unsteady on my feet... so Jimmy had his arm around me to make sure I stayed upright. He asked me how I was getting home and when I told him I was going to grab a taxi he suggested sharing and it seemed like a pretty good idea, so we went outside. As the club was in the process of closing and the customers were still pouring out, there weren't any taxis on the rank, so there was a small queue of people waiting for them to arrive.

"As you no doubt noticed, I hadn't taken a coat with me and it was pretty cold while we were standing there... so Jimmy put his arms around me and I cuddled up to him to keep warm. It took quite a while... we were last in the queue and, after a while, it was just the two of us left and we were huddled together in the doorway. We were talking a bit and, I can't actually remember what he said... but it was something that made me laugh out loud anyway... and when I stopped, I looked up at him and before I knew what was happening... we started kissing!

"I hadn't expected that to happen... and I don't really think that he had, either... it just happened. It was a real spur-of-the-moment thing. Of course, I accept that he may well have planned it... but I don't think that was the case. The fact was, though, that it was delicious. Did I mention that he has a moustache and a small beard? D'you know something, Until then, I'd never kissed a man with a beard? It was strange... but it was nice, too! I mean, I know I was a bit drunk... well, more than 'a bit,' probably... but I'm not going to try to use that as an excuse. We kissed... and I enjoyed it. As a matter of fact, I was enjoying it so much that I nearly didn't see the cab that was cruising slowly past -- on the lookout for stragglers, I suppose -- but Jimmy spotted it and he signalled with his hand to make it stop.

"The cabbie wouldn't let us in until he found out where we were going because he was looking for a job for take him homewards... towards Heatherlanes... but we were both on the way so it was okay, and we got in... both of us giggling like a couple of kids. As soon as we set off, Jimmy had his arms around me again and we were necking away like a couple of love-struck teenagers... and it was really exciting. It was just like you and I used to do when we were first dating, y'know?

"You won't be surprised to hear that it went a bit further than that, of course. After a few minutes he began to fondle my breast and, when I didn't try to stop him, he soon had his hand under my jumper and I got so worked up by it all that he had no trouble finding my nipple... even through the bra I was wearing... and it felt really good when he squeezed it, so gently, with his huge hands! I could feel all kinds of strange thrills coursing through me... almost as if no one had ever done that to me before, and I think I was practically melting against him. I was so carried away by it that I didn't realise he was reaching around behind me to try and unfasten my bra. If I'd have been properly aware of it I would have warned him to be careful because I was wearing my black one... it looks okay, but I've had it a while and it's become a bit delicate after so many washes. So when he fumbled with it a bit, it didn't take much for some damage to happen!

"I wasn't aware of it at the time because his hands were contentedly exploring my bared breasts and doing wonderful things to my nipples... while our tongues were dancing together. To be honest, I could have ridden in that cab all night while he was doing that! But then he suddenly stopped and whispered that I needed to sort my clothes out because we were almost at his place. 

"In reality, it's only a couple of streets from mum's house, by the way!

"Anyway, that's when I panicked a bit. I tried to re-fasten my bra and found that I couldn't! (I discovered later that both of the 'hooks' that fasten into the 'eyes' had come adrift and they're in the back of that taxi, I suppose. Anyway... that's when I decided to get out of the cab at Jimmy's house. I think he took it a bit the wrong way. He must have thought I was going to come inside and leap into bed with him. 

"I had to tell him that it simply wasn't going to happen, and I had to apologise for probably leading him on to expect it. I explained that I was married and it meant there was no chance because, no matter how old-fashioned it might sound, I took that seriously. He laughed it off, saying that he'd just have to accept another night with no 'nooky,' and that made me laugh as well. I also told him that there'd been a bit of a disagreement at home and I'd gone out with the intention of enjoying myself... then spending the night at my mum's house and refusing to tell you where I'd been. 

"He ended up seeing the funny side of it... he's a really nice guy... and when I told him about the favour I needed, he burst out laughing! He said he'd heard of blokes trying to get girls back to their place with the promise of showing them some etchings... or even with the suggestion of a cup of coffee... but he'd never imagined that a needle and thread would turn out to be a 'babe magnet!'

"We went inside his house and, after rummaging around for a while, he came up with one of those little 'travel repair kits' that obviously had never been opened. I wasn't as drunk as I had been... I'd sobered up a little bit... but the chances of me being able to thread a needle were definitely not good. I did manage it eventually, but I soon found that the damage to the bra was too substantial to be dealt with so easily. For ages, we just sat there examining my bra... it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it... but I knew that, without it, I wouldn't dare go to mum's house. She knows full well that I'd never go out without with one... and I didn't think I'd be able to convince her that both hooks had been lost all on their own!

"Eventually, of course, knowing I really didn't want to head for home at that hour of the morning, even though it would have been the simplest thing to do, Jimmy suggested that I ought to stay at his place. I was extremely dubious about it... naturally... but he gave his word that he wouldn't make any kind of move on me and I trusted him. And, as it turned out, I was right to do so because he kept to himself. 

"He has a spare bedroom, but that's been converted into an office, so he offered to sleep on the couch and let me have his bed; but, as the couch was only a two-seater and he's well over six-foot tall, there was no way I could let him do that. So he fetched a spare pillow and a duvet and, rather sweetly I thought, gave me a gentle kiss on the forehead before he retired to his own room. It must have been around five o'clock by then and, surprising as it may seem, I went out like a light.

"As I told you in the first version, I woke up bursting for a pee... and, as I also told you, I didn't quite make it in time. After I'd cleaned myself up, I didn't know what to do with the wet knickers so I wrapped them in some toilet tissue and went looking in his kitchen for a plastic bag of some kind to bring them home in. I was still rummaging when I heard his front door open and, in a complete panic, I stuffed them into his waste bin. I couldn't think of anything else to do.

"It was actually Jimmy who'd come in... he'd been out and bought some fish & chips for our lunch. He dumped them on the table, scooped me up in his arms and gave me a kiss, saying that he wished he could return home to someone who looked like me on a regular basis! That was pretty generous of him, actually... because I probably looked a complete mess! But he wouldn't let me do anything else until I'd eaten... before it went cold, he said... and I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed it and we just sat there, chatting away, until I suddenly became aware of the time. I was almost hysterical... because I'd never intended to stay out anything like as long as that and, realising the state I was in, he phoned a cab for me very quickly.

"We barely had time to exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch before the cab arrived... but he told the driver to wait a minute and then, in the hallway, he took me in his arms, saying that he wanted to be sure I'd remember him. And that was when he gave me a long slow kiss... the kind that makes your toes curl! Unfortunately, it also makes some juices flow... which was why I needed a shower as soon as I got home!"

"What about the love-bite?" Geoffrey queried when he realised the tale had reached its conclusion.

"Some idiot on the dance floor who tried to get fresh," I responded immediately, "It's the kind of thing that happens in nightclubs."

There was silence then as we stared at one another for a few moments, but he was the first to turn away. It was getting late, and I was half-expecting him to suggest that we ought to leave it at that since we both had work to go to the next day, but he surprised me by lifting his head and saying:

"So... it's up to me now, isn't it?" and, when I agreed, he said, "I don't have a clue which version to believe, Patsy... but I'm desperate to know. And the only way I'm going to find out is by telling you about Calvin...."

"Not just Calvin!" I said, hoping that my last card could win the game. "All of it, Geoffrey. I need you to tell me all of it." 

Although the bottle of rum had been severely depleted while he was listening to me, he still didn't show any signs of being anything but reasonably sober but, when we stared at each other again, his shoulders suddenly slumped and he sat down with an air of defeat.

"Alright... I'll tell you," he conceded, "I'll tell you all of it. But I'm warning you that you're not going to like me very much by the time I've finished. I just hope you won't hate me for what I'm about to say, Patsy. Please don't hate me... I simply couldn't bear that." 

I had to make him wait while I paid a quick visit to the bathroom. It was a necessary 'comfort break,' but it also gave me a little time to compose myself after the strain of telling him about my night out. By the time I returned, he'd moved back to front room and I'd no objection to joining him there -- even though it meant I couldn't see his face quite so clearly while he was speaking.

"I'm not as good with words as you are, Patsy," he began, "so you can interrupt and ask questions if you want to. 

"I have to go back a good way, because I've been pals with Calvin since we went to school. Trust me; it is necessary to know about that to understand what I'm telling you.

"What it was... Cal was always a bit of a bully in those days. For some reason he was stronger and taller than the rest of us in that year and I suppose I sort of became his pal because it was better than being pushed around all the time. We both left school as soon as we could because neither of us was exactly academic. Cal got his apprenticeship with a plumber... I got one with a painter and decorator. I've told you before, I wasn't exactly the world's best at the job so, not long after I was qualified, I quit and got a job as a sales assistant at the place I'm still at. I made my way steadily up the ladder... especially when the bigger company took it over from old man Langley.

"Cal was far more ambitious... and he set up his own one-man outfit as soon as he was out of his time and, basically we helped each other out as far as possible. It wasn't anything much; he'd put in for a contract... get the quotes from other suppliers... and show them to me so I could undercut their prices. In return, I managed to get him a bit of extra discount here and there, and I'd always recommend him if a customer asked about a good plumber. After a while, his business expanded a bit, he took some staff on, worked hard, and then took over the company Bob worked for.

"Me and Cal used to go out at the weekend together. He was absolutely great at chatting up the women and, as he had his own place by then, there was somewhere to take them back to... if you know what I mean? And it just seemed as if he could have his pick... which meant that I got to go with whoever was with the best-looking one. I didn't get to sh... I mean, I didn't get lucky very often... certainly not as often as Cal did... but I got a lot more action than if I'd been on my own.

"The downside was, of course, that he expected to have his share of any decent-looking bird that I managed to get... if he fancied her, that is. And, since he was usually the one who'd made it happen in the first place, I could hardly object, could I?

"And the other thing with Cal was that... well he liked to show off. He loved to get me in the room to watch him while he was doing some bird... and he loved it even more if he could he could dominate them enough to get them to take me on once he'd had his turn. And that happened quite a few times!

"So that's why I was so terrified when I first met you, Patsy. I mean, I fell for you right away... but Cal kept telling me not to bother. He said you were a stuck-up, frigid bitch and... and probably a lesbian. I don't know why?" And he stopped to see if I could help with that. 

In all honesty, though, I had no idea. As far as I could recall, I'd never met Calvin before I knew Geoffrey, and we were already married by that time -- so I could only shake my head and tell him that possibly it was because he'd seen that we were serious about each other and he didn't want to lose his 'playmate.'

"Anyway... we did have a bit of a falling out over it," he went on. He moved to new premises near the city and that was where he did most of his business for a couple of years. He still dealt with our company, of course, because I gave him preferential treatment; y'know, like when there was that shortage of 15mm copper tube, I kept enough to one side so that he'd be able to carry on when others were struggling... that kind of thing. It was when you were so busy with doing your M.Ed. degree that he seemed to come back into the picture. That was when he bought himself that house and, since you were so busy in the evenings, I started spending a bit of time in the pub with him.

"It didn't take long to find out that he hadn't changed. The only difference was that he preferred to go after married women. I don't know why... not for certain, anyway... but I heard a story that he'd had his fingers burned when one of his 'conquests' turned out to be a lot younger than she said she was. According to the gossip, he only got away with it by paying her and her family a considerable sum to keep them quiet. I don't if it's true or not... you get rumours and hearsay like that all the time... but it wouldn't surprise me all that much.

"Anyway... he got to the stage where he had to see a wedding band on a woman's finger before he'd try anything on with her. I thought he'd got over his thing about being watched... at least I did for a while. But one night he asked me to meet him at his house for a few beers. There was a big match on... an international... and he said we'd be able to watch it in peace, have a few beers and send out for a pizza or something.

"It seemed like a good idea, a lot better than jostling to get a view of the screen in the pub and having to listen to all the experts telling everyone what the manager was doing wrong... who he should have dropped... who should be in... all the usual crap. Besides which, he'd just bought a big flat-screen TV with surround sound... so I was looking forward to it.

"Anyway, I got there about half an hour before kick-off but, when I knocked on the door, it was a woman who answered. I guess I looked shocked, but she grinned and said, "You must be Geoff?" and when I nodded she just stepped back and walked inside saying, "He's in there," as she went past the living room and out to the kitchen. I hadn't even got a proper look at her... all I'd noticed was that she seemed quite shapely and she wasn't wearing very much! I wasn't sure what to do... I mean I didn't want to interrupt and I seriously thought about just quietly leaving... but then I heard Calvin call my name and tell me to 'come on in!' 

"So I went into the living room and Cal was sprawled out on that huge sofa of his... and I found that he wasn't exactly fully dressed either. He was just wearing a pair of boxers and a tee shirt. He just gave me a big grin, pointed to the armchair and told me to sit there to get the best view. I thought he meant the TV because I was directly facing it and, although he had the sound turned down, I could see the pundits were eagerly discussing what was to come in the match.

"I'd no sooner sat down... I didn't even have time to ask anything, when the woman came back in from the kitchen, put a can of chilled lager on the arm of my chair, placed a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table and went out again. I asked, in a whisper, who she was, but Cal just grinned again and said something about half-time entertainment.

"Again... it had all happened so fast that I hadn't got a good look at her. I just had an impression of long legs and a good figure that was only covered by a very short, white skirt and a skimpy pink top. The one thing I had noticed, though, when she'd put the can of lager down, was a gold ring on her wedding finger! Well... by then the match was starting and after the first twenty minutes or so, I heard the woman return. She was standing behind me where I couldn't see her as she asked how it was going. Cal said it was boring... I suppose that must have been a signal they'd agreed on... and she just walked past me and knelt down in front of the sofa. Without a word, she pulled Cal's boxers down and started to... well, she started sucking his cock!

"I mean... bloody hell! I didn't know whether to look at the match or at them... y'know? But after a minute or two she stopped and said', "what about your mate?" Cal just sort of stretched, took a swig of his drink and told her not to worry because; "Geoff likes to watch. He prefers it to the real thing!"

"To be honest... even though I was embarrassed enough to blush... it was a moment of revelation. I suddenly realised that Calvin knew me better than I knew myself! I mean, I lost all interest in the game when the woman stood up a couple of minutes later, stripped off, and then straddled Cal and just started... well, y'know? And she was obviously enjoying herself... which isn't surprising really, because he is pretty well... what's the word... endowed? Yes... endowed! He's a lot thicker and a fair bit longer than I am... and I had a perfect view from where I was sitting.

"I was excited. To be honest, I was very excited... especially when she started moaning and groaning and telling him how good it felt; and Calvin told me to get my cock out and play with it."

He stopped then, waiting for some reaction so, trying not to give away anything about how I felt, I calmly said: "And did you?"

"Yes," he admitted in a low whisper and then, with a look of determination, raised his eyes to meet mine and added, "I did... yes! I don't even think I looked at the TV after that... I was hypnotised by the sight of them fucking... right there in front of me."

"Go on, Geoff," I said.

"Right... well... it went on for ages. She must have been really wet to judge from the noises... and then, at long last, I heard Cal say, "Stop wanking, Geoff, and come over here to see this." I did as he said and he directed me closer and closer until the woman could grab hold of my hand and put it on one of her tits! 




Cheating At Cards Ch. 04



"It was amazing... because she reached down and took hold of me and I could see her wedding ring on the hand that was holding my cock and it was just so... so... shit! I can't even tell you what it felt like! It was unbelievable! Then Cal started bucking up at her, and I heard her say; "You're nearly there, my love aren't you? D'you want to cum in my cunt? D'you want to fill my happily married cunt... or do you want to do it in my ass?" But Cal just kept on bucking his hips up at her until he suddenly shouted out; "Yes... yes... take it you fuckin' bitch... take it in your cunt!" and they both groaned as he started to cum inside her."

I wanted to ask a question -- an important one -- but I managed to hold back because my husband was in full flow by now as he re-lived the memory.

"When they finished," he continued, "they just grinned at one another. Then he looked at her and sort of nodded in my direction. She was still holding me... and I still had my hand on her tit, but I had to let go of her when she climbed off him. 

"But she kept hold of me... and she drew me back towards the armchair. Then she sat down and, without actually saying anything, got me to kneel down in front of her...."

That was where his narrative ground to a halt for a minute or two. It was easy to see that he was agitated and afraid to go on so I asked: "The woman was Marjorie Rushworth, I take it?" He nodded his head very slowly in response; it was clear that he didn't really want to go on, so I said; "There's no point stopping now, is there? You might just as well tell me the rest." In truth, I felt desperately weary, but I knew this opportunity would never come again, so I waited.

"The next bit... well... I don't know...." He said, stumbling over the words. Then he looked at me with real puppy-dog eyes, as if hoping I'd show some mercy but, even though it felt as if my heart was breaking, I just stared coolly back and waited. I could understand the attraction Marje held; she was, even though she was in her forties now, a good looking and curvy woman and she had that look about her eyes that seems to draw men to her.

"I suppose you already knew it was Marje," he went on, and then, "anyway... it doesn't really matter now, so... she pulled me towards her... she put her hands on the back of my head and drew it down between her thighs. At first, I tried to pull away... I could see droplets of Calvin's cum seeping out of her and it looked disgusting... and her thighs and her mound were slick with her own juices. But she didn't let go and she didn't actually try to force me; she just... sort of... kept easing me towards her until, eventually... well, my mouth was on her and she shuddered and groaned and started to tell me how good it felt.

"I mean... I didn't like that smell... or the taste; but it was the fact that it was so... nasty... so dirty and so... forbidden!

"I mean, I love going down on you, Patsy... I always have and I still do... but this was so different. It didn't have anything to do with love... it was just simple, filthy lust! And once I got past that first moment of hesitation... I really got into it! I lapped her with my tongue and I drew all the cum out of her with my lips... and I just kept licking as she started bucking her hips against my face... and I was made up that she was getting so turned on! After a little while, she came all over my face and I just lapped that up as well. Then she suddenly pushed me away a bit, sat forward and reached down to take hold of my cock again. It must have taken no more than five or six strokes with her hand before she made me cum... and she directed it all over her tits.

"Then she let go of me, stood up, and went out to the kitchen again... cool as you like. And then I heard Cal laughing to himself. I turned around and he was watching the telly... but it wasn't football that was on... it was a film of me licking Marje! He'd videoed the whole fucking thing! I started to swear at him but he just laughed and made fun of me. Then he said, "Don't worry Geoff... I'll make a copy for you to take home to that stuck up bitch you're married to. You can let her see how good you are at cleaning up and then, when the time comes for me to give her a proper seeing-to, she'll know that you're capable of dealing with all the mess!" And then Marje came back in... dressed again, and she soothed me... told me that it would be a long time before you'd find out that I loved to clean up after a woman's been fucked by another man... by a man with a bigger cock than me.

"And she knew exactly what she was doing... because what she said started to turn me on again! And Cal joined in... they were both making fun of me, taunting me... and the more they did it, the more turned-on it made me! I didn't know what was happening to me. Eventually, I almost ran out of there and came home. You'd already gone to bed, so I sat down here and I got drunk... really drunk.

From then on, I lived in fear of you ever seeing that video... and Cal was smart enough to leave me to stew in my own juice for a couple of weeks. Then one day he came into the store. That was unusual by that time, because he normally sent one of his workers for anything he needed, but he said he wanted to talk to me in private about something. 

"Once we were in my office, he told me that Marje had enjoyed my attentions so much that she wanted a repeat performance. I tried to object... but he used the video he'd taken as a lever and I had to agree. He said it something we were going to do on a regular basis... every Friday night... and he had the idea of my using the excuse that we'd be playing cards. Well... I don't need to tell you how that worked out, do I?

"In fact, they'd worked it out perfectly. Since the pill made Marje's periods as regular as clockwork, we could actually have a game of cards at our house every fourth week... so you wouldn't get suspicious about it. And until Cal got fixated on having a go at you... well...." he finally trailed away lamely.

I couldn't let him see what I was thinking -- how repulsive I found what he'd told me -- because there were still things I needed to know.

"And what about Bob... and Muriel?" I asked him, trying to keep my voice as level as I could, "Are you going to...?"

"Bob was in it all the time," he answered, "his thrill was fucking Marje after Cal had shot a load in her. He said he loves it when she's hot and wet and sloppy! Muriel was only there a couple of times... she liked watching... and she liked fucking Calvin, but she wasn't interested in Bob... or in Marje, if that's what you're wondering."

"And you?" I asked, "Did you continue the same, or...?"

"I never did anything else with Marje... or with Muriel," he told me with a defensive tone.

"But you... what did you call it... cleaned up afterwards? Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes... to both!" he was almost defiant this time, "Sometimes I cleaned up after Cal... sometimes after Bob... sometimes after both of them. And... yes... I enjoyed it! I enjoyed the way they made fun of me... the names they called me... I enjoyed all of it. I can't help that... it's the way I am, Patsy. It's just the way I am!"

"And did you intend 'cleaning' me like that if Cal ever managed to fuck me? Did the thought of that give you a hard on?" I said, trying not to let the 'frost' take over my appearance. He didn't say anything, which would have been answer enough, even if I hadn't seen his hand move down to his crotch to begin rubbing himself through his trousers.

"There's no point in doing that!" I told him, still keeping my voice low, "because it's something that will never, ever happen, Geoffrey. You have no idea how much I loathe... how much I've always loathed... that disgusting creep, Calvin. In fact, you can tell him from me that if he ever comes near me with that cock, I swear I'll take a pair of secateurs and prune it until he hasn't got enough left to reach the fucking toilet bowl without squatting!"

"Patsy... listen, please... don't be like that. We haven't harmed anyone... we just...."

"Didn't harm anyone?" I finally snapped. "You've been cheating on me... every fucking Friday night for the last...."

"It wasn't cheating, Patsy," he protested, "Honest... I never did anything else. I swear it!"

"Not cheating? You sat and watched Calvin fucking Muriel and Marje; you watched both Calvin and Bob taking turns with that whore... and you 'cleaned up' after them and shot your load wherever they told you to. Every fucking week you did that! And you have the nerve to say it wasn't cheating?"

I realised that my voice had risen to a shout and I took a deep breath to control myself.

"I told you that you'd hate me, didn't I?" he said, and I could see tears in his eyes, but it was too late now. I looked at him carefully, failing to see anything of the man I'd once loved enough to marry and spend my life with, and I said in a quiet voice:

"No... I don't hate you, Geoffrey... I just pity you. I'm sorry," and I stood to put my coat on, went out to the hall and picked up the holdall while he hurried after me.

"Where... I mean... when will you be back?" he asked.

"I won't be coming back, Geoffrey," I informed him. "Tomorrow I'll go and see a lawyer to get the divorce under way. I'll be cancelling the payment of the rent on this place, so you'll need to sort that out if you want to stay here... and I'll arrange to come back with mum sometime to pick up the rest of my stuff, and...."

"Please, Patsy... don't leave me!" he begged, "We can sort this out... honestly! We can...."

"No, Geoffrey... we can't," I told him quietly, "I'm not even criticising what you've done... if that's what you want... then, fair enough. But it's no use to me... and it never will be. Let the divorce go through easily, Geoff... it'll give both of us a chance to start again and live the kind of life that each of us wants to. Only this time, Calvin won't have anything to hold over you... it'll be entirely up to you what you want to do."

I stepped out into the cold night air, threw my bag into the back seat of the car and climbed inside. Once I'd started the engine and begun easing out of the drive, he suddenly came alongside and gestured for me for roll the window. I did, but only enough to hear what he was saying.

"You didn't tell me!" he complained.

"What?"

"Which version of your night out was the real one?"

"That's why you'll never be a good card player, Geoff," I told him, "because you can never see when someone's bluffing!"

"But... which...?"

"Neither of them, Geoff... neither of them," I told him truthfully, then headed off towards my mum's house.

EPILOGUE

As I drove through the darkened streets, I found myself wondering if, somewhere, there was a teacher named Jimmy Murdoch who played rugby and behaved like a real gentleman. If there was, I'd certainly never met him!

Geoffrey probably felt that I'd tricked him and, to some extent, I suppose I had. At the same time, I'd been very careful to say that I'd give him 'two very different versions of what happened - without telling him what the truth actually was,' and that's exactly what I'd done. 

It was true that I'd been dancing at the end of the night - but it had been with a drunken idiot who'd suddenly grabbed me and planted a stupid love-bite on my neck. I'd finally managed to push him away, but he'd followed me back to the table -- until one of the security guys had seen what was happening and got rid of him. 

Muriel, as I've said, had disappeared. She'd probably 'pulled,' I suppose -- but Alexa's bloke had tried to get her to take some cocaine -- or 'devil's dandruff' as she called it -- so she'd burnt him off and come back to the club. We took a taxi back to her place, enjoyed a mug of hot chocolate, and she'd asked if I wanted to 'crash' on her sofa. 

The next day, we'd both slept late -- until nearly two o'clock -- then we'd sat chatting until about four. I rang for a taxi but, before leaving, I went to the bathroom and removed my underwear (I dumped it in Alexa's wheelie bin on the way out) then, on the ride home, mussed up my hair a bit and made a bit of a mess of my make-up.

Why did I do all that? Well, quite simply, I wanted to create an impression of having been up to no good, because I reckoned it would be the best the way of getting Geoffrey to open up. And I'd used the stories about cheating wives on Literotica to help me (it was one of his favourite sites), and that was why I also dived straight into the shower when I arrived home. I've no idea whether or not real cheating wives do that -- but neither did Geoffrey -- and the description of my 'affair' came almost unedited from the stories I'd read there as well.

Should I have done it? Well, it's possible that, ultimately, the end might justify the means. As I drew to a halt outside my mum's house, I was feeling desperately sad; mourning the fact that I no longer had a partner; and somewhat stricken to find that all the love, the companionship, and even the unrestricted sex, hadn't been enough to allow him to overcome his nature.

I was out of it now, though, I told myself as I felt my eyes tearing up -- and I'd soon be free and ready to begin again; to look for someone like the 'Jimmy' of my imagination, perhaps -- to find real love and, maybe, if there was enough time, to start the family I knew I wanted. 

I locked the car and walked towards the future.