A Study in Scarlet Ch. 02

He then felt a sudden chill, an emptiness. John knew that life without his wife would be a pale imitation of what he had had. He would sorely miss the richness of life with Esther. He knew that he loved her, had always loved her, but he also knew that that love would die, turn bitter and sour without the nurturing that all love requires. John sighed, still confused as to what the future would bring. He turned over in bed and despite himself, fell into a restless and troubled slumber.

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John woke late the following morning, but despite the late hour, he felt as if he hadn't slept much. His head throbbed and his lips twisted at the sour taste in his mouth. He quickly showered and brushed his teeth, gargling with the hotel mouthwash. Dressed in his new, quasi-western garb, he exited his room and quickly made his way to the hotel coffee shop.

John found that he wasn't very hungry and he ordered toast and coffee which he quickly consumed. Lingering over a second cup he considered his options. Reason now dictated that he must allow for the possibility that Esther's so called affair was nothing more than a suspicion that grew like topsy into a firm conviction. He felt ashamed; jumping to conclusions not based upon reality was something entirely foreign to him. He must now be totally objective and allow for the very real possibility that all of this was a product of his own self-doubts and insecurity.

John decided that he would honor the reservation he had made at the hotel for two nights. He would again be in the lobby, but he was slowly coming to the conclusion that there was little likelihood that his vigil would produce anything untoward.

That evening John was again ensconced in his chair in the corner of the lobby. He had a new newspaper with him, but made little effort at reading. Again his eyes wandered to the clock. It was now well past 7:00 and he became just a trifle agitated, his imagination again driving him to worry. At 7:14 Jon breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Esther coming into the lobby, but his relief was short lived.

His wife and Moriarty were almost giddy, laughing and clutching at each other. Moriarty had his arm around Esther's shoulder and was chuckling and whispering in her ear. John saw that her face was flushed and even at that distance he could see the sparkle in her eyes. Then both of them headed into the hotel dining room and were quickly seated, now out of his sight.

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Esther was euphoric. They had bulldozed all of Simmon's objections and had finally gotten his signature on the contract. All of the months of hard work and long hours had paid off and she knew that this coup could very well land her a partnership in the firm. Her spirits were soaring and she looked at her dining companion with affection. Despite Jim's philandering ways, he was a sharp attorney as well as a hard worker. He would share the benefits of the successful completion of this project. She would make sure that he would be given proper credit.

"Essie," Jim bubbled. "I can't believe that it's all finally over. All those months we put into this thing, it almost makes me feel light headed." He then motioned to the waiter and added a bottle of wine to their dinner order.

Esther almost objected but mentally shrugged. "Why not," she thought. "We deserve it. We worked hard enough for this moment."

Dinner was consumed leisurely, the bottle of wine was soon depleted. Conversation flowed easily, they were both relaxed and riding highs of the success of the day. Esther looked at her watch and saw that it was almost 9:00. "Okay, Jim. It's getting a bit late and we have a flight to schedule for tomorrow. Time to wrap this up." Her words were a bit slurred.

"Oh, please, Essie. Late? You've got to be kidding. Let's not end it now. You know it's early. Let's go into the lounge and relax a bit. We're both riding highs, we need to come down. Let's have a couple of drinks, the night's young. C'mon, Es. I'm strung as tight as a high wire," Jim begged.

Esther paused, then laughed at the "little boy" expression on Jim's face. "Why not," she thought. "It really is early."

"Okay, Jim. Let me go up to my room and change out of this damn suit. I'll be down in a bit. But only for one drink, that's it."

John watched anxiously as Esther walked to the elevators and Moriarty into the lounge. He breathed a sigh of relief, watching his wife enter the elevator by herself. He almost stood to return to his room, then decided to enter the lounge and have a drink. He needed something to release the tension that had gripped him at the sight of Esther and Moriarty entering the hotel, arm in arm.

John found a stool at the far end of the bar where he sat and ordered a scotch and water. Looking around, he spotted Moriarty in a far corner booth and wondered why he had chosen to sit there. He turned his head quickly, not wanting to be noticed. Shifting a bit on the stool John saw that the mirrored backdrop of the bar gave him a good view of that area of the lounge. He was able to inspect Moriarty without turning his head and he was confident that he wouldn't be recognized, especially after so many years.

John sat and nursed his drink, letting the tension flow from his body. By now he felt fairly confident that his fears were groundless and he was mentally rehearsing scenarios of apology. An apology that would be heartfelt and that Esther couldn't help but accept. His eyes kept drifting to the mirror and he was puzzled that Moriarty still sat there nursing the one drink that he had ordered from the bar girl. Few of the booths were occupied, the place seemed almost empty.

John glanced at his watch and saw that it was almost 9:30. He started to rise to leave when he felt his stomach clench and his throat tighten. The woman walking into the lounge was Esther and she was now wearing a simple white silk blouse, a tight black skirt and a string of pearls around her neck. John recognized those pearls, he had given them to her on her 40th birthday.

She glanced about and saw Moriarty seated in the far booth. John steeled himself not to move or look in that direction, but he could see clearly in the mirror as Esther moved a bit unsteadily to the booth. Moriarty had scrambled out and was standing, waiting for her. He took her hand and motioned her into the booth and then slid in beside her. John was too far away to hear any of their conversation, but it really wasn't necessary. The picture of the two of them together said far more then mere words ever could.

John saw Moriarty wave the bar girl over and order drinks. He smiled, almost surreptitiously, at the young girl and slipped her what appeared to be some money. It wasn't long before the drinks arrived and the happy couple sipped and chatted.

John had his eyes glued to the small portion of the mirror that showed what was happening in that far booth behind him. He saw his wife smiling, laughing, glowing. He saw Moriarty stroke her hand and touch her arm as he spoke softly. John felt the hot coal of anger burning in his gut; there was no longer much doubt. He sat there quietly, feeling an almost out of body experience, his thoughts no longer muddled or chaotic. He saw his wife fawning over that son of a bitch and he knew that his marriage was over.

But John decided that he wasn't going to go quietly into that dark night. Esther wouldn't be able to slip into denial any longer. He sat and his face twisted into a grim smile. He sat and watched the two lovers in the booth.

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Esther giggled as Moriarty whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her and she giggled again. Between the bottle of wine at dinner and the two rather strong drinks she had just consumed, she was feeling little pain. She didn't desist when her companion ordered a fresh round and actually gulped a quarter of the drink when it arrived. Esther felt buoyant, ecstatic, exultant. Her hard work had paid off and she was on top of the world. Why not have a few drinks, let her hair down a bit? What's the harm?

Esther picked up the glass and quickly drained it, not even noticing Moriarty motioning for another round which arrived soon after. Things seemed to be a bit confused, she felt a comfortable buzz and felt a bit warm. She suddenly felt Moriarty's lips on hers and she instinctively put her hands on his chest to push him away, but those hands betrayed her. They were soon clutching his shirt, pulling him to her. Her mouth opened under his insistent probing and their tongues dueled with each other.

Some semblance of reason permeated Esther's consciousness and she pulled away. "No, no, no," she gasped. "I can't, I'm....... married," she slurred. Moriarty over rode her feeble objections by nuzzling her neck and breathing warm kisses on her fevered skin. Irene again felt a flush of desire and felt the crotch of her panties become damp.

It wasn't long before Moriarty had Esther's blouse out of her skirt and his hand on her bare back. It was obvious what his objective was and it was soon realized as her breasts sagged just a bit without the support of her bra. Moriarty soon took advantage of that, his hand moving to her front, fondling her bare mounds, gently pinching her now very erect nipples.

Esther had her head on his shoulder, moaning into his ear. "Please, Jim. We shouldn't, we shouldn't, it's wrong........ 'Please......, Jim," but she made no move to stop him. She raised her head, grabbed him and mashed her lips against his. Moriarty then immediately pulled his hand from her chest and swiftly slid it up her thighs to her very damp mound. It took only a second to slip a finger under the leg of her panties and into the steaming heat of her pussy.

Esther moaned into his mouth and her legs opened, almost instinctively, giving him greater access. She felt him pulling at the flimsy material and raised her hips, allowing him to pull her panties down her legs and off. He pulled away from her grasp and with a smile, dropped the deep red, lacy material on the table. Then he dropped his lips again to hers and plunged his hand back under her skirt and began to toy with the moist, wet lips of her sex. He felt her pubic hair, now damp and slick. He slowly inserted two fingers into that moist, hot channel, allowing his thumb to play over her clit causing Esther to gasp as she felt her orgasm approaching.

Moriarty, now sure of his conquest, took Esther's hand and placed it on his cock, which was now free of his trousers. She instinctively grasped it, gently squeezing the smooth skin, caressing the flaring head now wet with his lubrication. Esther began stroking his throbbing member, mesmerized by the aura of sexuality, by his probing tongue in her mouth, by his fingers slowly and sensually moving in and out of her vagina.

She seemed to be in a fog, riding a high of intoxication from the alcohol she had consumed and the sexual stimulation she was receiving. Her hips undulated, fucking his fingers while her hand stroked him in rhythm or as a counterpoint to his attack on her pudenda when she was suddenly startled out of her reverie by a familiar voice.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I join you. I really should applaud.....but I won't," said John sliding into the booth opposite them, carefully placing the newspaper her had carried, over the small pile of nylon and lace. Esther sat there, somewhat confused, then gasped as she finally realized that her husband was sitting opposite her. Her hand went slowly to her mouth and her face paled.

Moriarty, fumbling, getting his cock back in his pants, suddenly decided that he had a previous appointment, tried to get up and leave, but was stopped as John snarled softly but venomously. "You move and I'll rip your fucking face off, asshole." Since discretion is the better part of valor, Moriarty remained seated, but with a frightened and wary look on his face. He did remember his first encounter with Esther's husband.

Esther felt chilled, the euphoria, the exultation gone. The cloud had vanished from her mind, the sudden appearance of her husband was like a splash of frigid water over her. She saw the iciness in John's eyes, the contempt and, yes, the devastation.

"Tell me about my paranoia, Essie," Jon murmured coldly. "Tell me what an unreasonable prick I am, sweetie - how I should be more understanding, more supportive."

John turned to Moriarty who was fidgeting, obviously anxious to be off. "I should thank you, asshole. At least you had the manners to pull your fingers out of her cunt when I arrived. I'm not too certain if that would have occurred to my dear wife."

Esther gasped again at those words, tears now appearing. She felt nauseous, light headed. The man seated across from her was not the man she recognized as her husband. It was not the strange clothing, but the sneer on his lips, the eyes that were now so cold, and yet burned with a terrible intensity. Then, with a shock that pierced her, she realized that those eyes radiated hatred.

"I really should apologize for the intrusion. I should have let you two continue, you were so obviously engrossed in your foreplay. I should have allowed you to leave for one of your rooms to continue your betrayal, Esther,, " John whispered hoarsely to her, the words coming out harsh and strained.

Esther trembled, tears now trickling down her cheeks. "No, no, John, Please. It's not what it appears. I never....... I never.....", her voice trailed and faded and John forced a chuckle that contained no amusement.

"No, Esther. It's exactly as it appears. Your boyfriend finally appears after years away and you just can't wait to get into his bed. How long has he been fucking you, honey?" he grated. "No wonder you have been so dissatisfied with me lately, Jimmy boy must have very impressive equipment. How did it feel, Esther? How did it feel fucking him, relishing the humiliation that I would finally experience? How did it feel, making me a cuckold?" John was now hissing, spittle flying from his lips.

"Wait a minute, buddy," Moriarty interrupted, then hesitated, seeing the rage flash over John's face.

"Get out, you cocksucker, but first let me give you some advice. Keep looking over your shoulder. One day I'm going to be there, maybe not tomorrow, or next week, or next month, but someday I'll be there," John rasped. "And when you see me, it's then that I'll kill you. Make no mistake, I will kill you eventually, motherfucker. It may not be a bad idea for you to travel far, far away, but that will probably not help you much. One day we'll meet again - now get the fuck out of here before I smash your fucking head in."

Moriarty didn't hesitate. He almost ran from the area and John chuckled grimly watching him stumble away. He then turned back to his wife who was now staring at him with horror. She had never heard him use such language, had never heard such venom in his voice. Her head was still buzzing a bit, everything seemed unreal.

John gazed at his wife, his eyes traveling over her disheveled blouse and her obviously unrestrained breasts. The bile rose in his throat. He sat and stared, wondering for a moment what had gone so wrong with the two of them. Was it him? Was he that poor of a mate? Or was it Esther? Was she so dissatisfied with him as a husband, with his profession? John suddenly realized that he didn't care - he really didn't care about the reason. He was brought out of his musing by Esther's voice, cracking with emotion.

"John, please. I was carried away. I let things go too far. Please, John. Forgive me - you have to forgive me. I just let things go too far...... I got the Simmons contract....... I was so happy........I just let.......things......go.....too.. far. I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry........" and her voice faded again as she sobbed.

John just looked at her. "Shut up, Esther. Just shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear any more lies or excuses," he muttered wearily, then removing his newspaper, revealed her panties on the table, a crumpled twist of red nylon and lace.

John paused, listening to Esther sob softly. " I remember these," he said, almost conversationally, fingering the small pile of fabric, noting the soaked crotch. "I gave them to you for your birthday, almost a year ago. Remember what you said? Oh, I remember. You said that scarlet is your favorite color. I knew that, that's why I chose that color.

"Appropriate, isn't it......scarlet. Maybe you should take these and fashion a letter A which you should wear on the front of your dress. Oh, but we don't do that anymore, do we........ shame, maybe we should......maybe we should do that, to let others know......to protect others," John mused.

"You told me that you would save these for a special occasion. I presume that you're wearing the brassier that goes with them now - or should I say almost wearing." John paused again, as if remembering.

"You never did wear them, at least for me, Esther, did you? Yet, you wore them now, you donned the set for your lover today," his voice had turned bitter.

"Stay here and screw Moriarty. You now don't have to worry about discovery now, but don't come home. Don't come home yet.......wait until I'm gone. I'll be gone in a day or two. Make sure that you don't show up until then. I don't want to see you, Esther. I don't want you near me. Just stay the fuck away until I'm gone......just stay away," John continued dully.

"I'm going to file for divorce." He looked up at her as Esther gasped again, turning even paler. " We'll split everything, except you can have the house. I'll never again step inside that structure. I'll just take my clothing and personal effects...........effects.......oh, and my research material. I need that for my profession, Esther. The profession that you so often denigrated. Everything else we'll split. That's seems fair."

John mouth was twisted into a grimace of distaste. "Don't fight it, Essie. If you do I'll testify as to what I witnessed tonight. That will damage your precious career.......oh, and your lover's.......we don't want that to happen, do we." Keeping his eyes trained on hers, John picked up Esther's lacy undergarment and slipped it into his pocket.

He then pushed himself up and walked away from the booth. He paused, looked back to see Esther sobbing quietly, then turned and continued walking.

(To be continued)