Law of the Heart - Jill's Opinionbyangiquesophie©
Headhuntertales wrote a story called Law of the Heart. You can read it in Literotica. It was about a young lawyer woman who went to the ten year reunion of her law school, down in Florida. Her husband couldn't make it to go with her. Then his appointment fell through and he decided to surprise her. In "Loving Wives" such surprises hardly ever work out well. This story is no exception.
Headhuntertales wrote 6 chapters of the story. Then he challenged us readers to find alternative endings to it. It took me a while, but here is my version. It is quite different from others'. That may very well be because I wrote it from the woman's perspective. And because I think cheating is usually far more complicated than many men choose to make of it.
My story takes off at the exact end of chapter 6. Should you read the first 6 chapters? I think it would be wise.
Law of the Heart -- Jill's Opinion.
I am a lawyer. So is my husband.
Maybe you don't like lawyers. Well, to be honest, I can see your point. But I still do hope, that you are prepared to hear both sides of a story. That is what lawyers are for, you know. Your may be unmoved in your righteousness where cheating wives are concerned But you must at least listen to the other side of truth.
Even if it is from the mouth of a lawyer.
I am Jill Chandler.
I married Jake Roberts and by now I'm fed up with being that. I am sick and tired of being portrayed as the bad guy in his story of so-called broken vows and bleeding hearts.
Oh, I'll never deny that I was acting selfish.
But I wasn't the only one, you know. There is no reason at all for my sweet husband to take the moral high ground -- he has claimed that lonely place a few times too often.
Actually, he has done it as long as I know him.
To understand what really happened at that reunion in sweet and sunny Florida, we have to go back quite a few years. We also may have to take a more objective look at Jake Roberts, my husband. One that is less prejudiced than the narrow glimpse he allowed you in his part of the story.
You see -- I love Jake.
I still do. But that doesn't mean I'm blind to the fact that he is morally color-blind. He only sees black and white. He sees the world in terms of: his side and the wrong side. There is only good and bad, right and wrong. Yes, I know that people admire him for that. As a public defender it makes him a champion of the weak.
And rightfully so.
He is a good man. His heart is in the right place. And it is clad in reinforced concrete.
But away from the limelight he is also the man I live with. He is the man I gave my heart to. He owns it. But please tell me, does owning mean that he should be the one to decide whether and for what it beats?
Jake Roberts has a vision and a mission. They are his. He lives for them. I'm sure he'd die for them, given the smallest chance. They are his food and drink, his obsessions. They direct his life. And mine.
They so much control us that it borders on the autistic and claustrophobic.
I love Jake Roberts.
But I refuse to believe that love obliges a woman to empty her brain. If that is what people call unconditional love, count me out. I am proud of my brain. It was the sharpest of my year at law school. And my parents always gave me the sound advice to never stop using it.
All this may sound harsh and uncaring. That is not what I am. I am a caring mother. I am a loving wife and have been a loyal confidant through years of poverty and struggle.
But I am also a human being. I have needs and dreams.
Two days before we planned to leave for the reunion, Jake told me he couldn't make it. I wasn't surprised. I expected it. He had a court case for some petty thief. He could have delegated it. But that wasn't Jake. He felt obliged to the small time criminal.
He had given him his word, he said.
There had been times when I would have told him he had obligations to me too. He knew how much it meant for me to go there and get out of my "mommy-mode", even if only for a short, refreshing breath.
However, my belligerent days were over. Too many morally laced defeats had cured me. I even offered not to go either. It had become the polite thing to do. Yes, we had grown to be quite polite with each other.
Of course he vehemently refused. Sacrifice is his second nature. He said he'd come over the next day. "No doubt the next, next day," I thought. "If ever." Experience can make one bitter.
Jake knew how important this weekend was for me. Ever since the pregnancy and the birth of our son Jake Jr, three years ago, I had been tied down by motherhood. I only saw mothers, children and more children. A trip to the supermarket was a treat. But I shouldn't complain. I'd wanted the child too, didn't I?
I never complained.
I love the little boy to death. Having him I consider the most significant thing I ever did in my life. For Little Jake my love is unconditional. But once more: it doesn't make me brain dead.
There still is me, Jill Chandler. I don't ask for much. Only once in a very long time I need to get out and breath.
Jake knows that.
He has a one-track mind, but he isn't callous or insensitive. He knew that going to the reunion was exactly the balm my parched soul needed. It was the perfect refueling of my worn out engine.
I had been running on empty for too long by then.
I yearned to be back where I had been free and uncaring. To think of nothing. To be among the people I had shared my reckless youth with. Just to be young and beautiful and silly again.
I knew it was only make-belief -- a sweet southern mirage. It would only last a few days. But right then it was all I needed.
Oh, of course: Jake would never deny me. "Go, darling. By all means go, you deserved it."
But the petty thieves of this world come first.
That last evening before I left for Miami, I threw in an ultimate effort to jump-start his autistic brain. There still had to be a connection between his balls and his brain, I thought. It might be atrophied. It might be clogged with the pulp of endless briefs and law books.
But I had to try.
I had dieted for weeks, worked out and tanned my body to look my best in the beachwear I had shopped for.
So, before packing, I showed it all to him: the new blue bikini, the sexy belly shirts, the colorful sarongs. And my new body, of course.
Sure, he appreciated it. So did Big Jake, as we playfully call his cock.
We made love and it was good. But having sex was only part of the intentions I'd had with the show. I wanted to give him one last chance to change his mind about staying behind.
Of course he didn't get it.
The moment I stepped out of the plane, I felt it.
The warm breeze greeted me with a million sweet fingertips. It made my hair dance. It screamed freedom. Boston had been cold and drizzling. It urged one to crouch and protect one's inner warmth. Miami opened me up with the touch of a magic wand. From the first second it hurled me back to the twenty one year old girl I had been here. It straightened my back. It relaxed my muscles and made me push out my tits in reckless defiance.
Thank God for the busy-ness of the airport. It forced them to use the old fashioned stairs and a shuttle to the arrivals' hall. Nothing feels as glamorous as walking down those roll-on stairs, straight into the glorious sunshine.
Little things can mean a lot to a starving heart.
Sally waited for me at the exit. It had been almost a year since I had seen her in the flesh. And yes, she had added to it - not miserly either. I remember how we fought the extra pounds in our law school days. She did it for sheer need, I out of loyalty.
By now she had given up, it seemed. But her wonderful smile hadn't lost one Watt since we were girls and became best friends. Her laugh was as shamelessly throaty as I fondly remembered.
Jake doesn't like Sally. I can understand why. Sally is everything he despises. She indulges herself. She lives for the moment and greedily sucks every last joyous drop out of it. She is the irresponsible cricket, where Jake is the diligent ant from the fable. She takes what she needs, which sounds selfish. But she shares. She shares in buckets and spreads her joy.
Sally never cared for money or future. And God, I thought, the way we laughed our way through law school.
"Where's hubby?' she asked after disentangling herself.
I shrugged. She understood.
"Come, girl," she exclaimed. "First surprise!"
She led me through the exit into the Florida sun. Right at the curb stood a yellow, open sports car. Behind the wheel was Juan Mendoza.
Of course you know Back To The Future, the movie. Seeing Juan threw me back to the first time I saw him. I was 21 and the sun shone brighter. The air was fresher back then. Sweeter too.
There were springs in the soles of my feet.
Juan smiled when he saw me - a flash of light in his handsome, tanned face. It worked as a magnet on the corners of my mouth. Smiling back was the easiest thing.
It spread a flush of heat through my body.
Juan jumped out of his car without opening his door. He rushed around the back and we were hugging before I even knew what happened. His chest felt hard below his open silk shirt. My soft tits pressed into him.
His hands were everywhere.
Did I compare? His lean, worked out muscles and Jake's pudgy flesh and budding love handles? His golden tan and the sickly white of Bostonian winter?
I don't remember. I really don't. But I enjoyed it.
"Jill!" Juan exclaimed. His large, warm hands held my face. He caught my eyes. God, was it wonderful to feel so welcome.
We kissed. Sally whistled.
Juan grabbed my suitcase and stored it in the back of the car. Then he opened the door at the passenger's side. Sally crawled into the back. I slipped into the front seat. We roared off to the resort. I was 21. The wind whipped strands of wild hair around my face.
Boston? Where on earth is Boston?
The resort was everything I had imagined.
There were palm trees, a white sandy beach and a sparkling ocean. The room was more like a small apartment - my own little cabin in the tropics. It had wooden blinds, rustically tiled floors and whitewashed walls. An abundant shock of bougainvillea hugged the tiny terrace.
I sank down on the bed. I closed my eyes and listened to the racing of my heart.
The ride had been exhilarating. Juan drove his little sports car like a smooth eel through the late afternoon traffic. We had to yell our conversation over the engine's roar. We laughed, even sang. We raced like irresponsible teenagers under the deep blue cupola of Florida's spring skies.
Juan's hand had been on my thigh. I did push it away. Gently. And not immediately.
Our eyes met. I smiled.
After taking a shower I dressed in the short sweet summer dress I had bought in rainy Boston. It was a warm maize yellow. It glowed against the hard-earned tan of my chest and legs.
As I stood in front of the tall mirror I decided on the number of buttons to leave undone. Then I reconsidered and opened one more. Clutching my purse I walked outside. I'd meet the others, have a nice drink and a lovely dinner.
Only when I started closing the door, I remembered. It made my face glow with embarrassment.
I sat down on the terrace and got the cell phone out of the purse. My mother's voice seemed to come from another planet. Little Jake's excitement sent a rush up my chest. It was the deep down shame of not having thought of him since I landed at Miami Airport.
The drinks were exotic.
They had all the right colors and the little umbrellas one should expect. They also had the potency to make the head buzz in the most pleasant way.
All the good old friends were there.
I saw Bill and George and their spouses. Both had been close friends with Jake. And of course I met Steve and Meredith. Steve had been best man at our marriage. They were now a staunch and settled couple. His hair had thinned a bit, her waist had done the opposite.
But in their eyes lived the spark of an exciting past we shared.
Meredith took me apart to tell me about her and Steve's plan to start a family. She asked me about the two Jakes. And I realized that it wasn't at all the subject I truly wanted to talk about.
Drinks helped to rub out the years.
Soon we slid back into the ways and manners of ten years ago. Long forgotten words and phrases crept into our conversations. By dinnertime we had all returned to what we had been back then - raucous, free and more than a bit tipsy.
When we lined up for the gorgeous buffet, Juan Mendoza somehow succeeded in moving next to me. His identical twin brother Hector stood close behind us. He introduced me to his incredibly sexy blonde trophy wife. Her name was Maria. Barbie might have suited her better. They had married last year.
Maria, I had heard through the grapevine, was an ex-Playboy model. She loved to show us why. Her bare legs were endless and deeply tanned. I didn't think her tits were all that real, but they looked spectacular.
They almost rolled out of her shining top.
Was I envious? I don't think so. During the cocktail-hour I had enjoyed a tidal wave of attentions and compliments. And God, did it massage my mommy-damaged ego.
Of course Juan had been around me from the moment he and his brother arrived. They stayed at their yaught in the marina, he said. And I should absolutely come and see it.
When we sat down at a table with our plates, he and Sally joined me. So did Hector and Maria. Juan and his brother had always been each other's spitting image. The years had not changed that one bit.
Watching Hector made me smile. His boyish pride to show off his newest toy kept him on the brink of explosion. And Maria loved to play along. She did nothing to hide her assets from drooling men and jealous wives alike.
God, wasn't it high school all over again?
We ate and talked. There was more chilled white wine. And there was Juan Mendoza's hand. I gave up pushing it away after he came back for the fourth time.
All the while were having a great time reminiscing.
Sally's laugh hung over our table like a sun. The food was delicious. And the wine oiled all the rusty gears of our aging brains. The toes running up my left leg could anatomically never have been Juan's. Especially since his hand was now touching my other thigh, right at the instep of my sexy new thong. By then I didn't care much anymore.
Steve rose and held a speech.
I am certain he didn't deliver half of what he had prepared at home. But his speech no doubt was twice as funny because of that. We cheered him on and applauded. It gave me the chance to stand up and shake the Cuban attentions off my body.
There was coffee.
I took the opportunity to walk over to another table. I talked with old friends and forgiven ennemies. There were drinks and music. There was a bit of dancing with Steve and Bill. Then there was eleven o'clock and time to find my bed.
I thought it wise to not follow up on Juan's invitation to see his boat. I was 21 again, maybe. I sure felt horny, too. But the mommy inside me still thought she had to be my chaperone.
That night I masturbated twice. Once on the bed as soon as I arrived back at my cabin. And once under the shower that was meant to calm me down. My fantasies were wild and satisfying.
Jake wasn't in them.
The embarrassment about that made me try to reach him. I am not sure if I was disappointed not to get him. He hadn't called me. Was I disappointed about that?
Still fretting, I fell asleep.
Breakfast was late and lovely.
There were loads of fresh fruit, yoghurt and cereals. And once more there was the company of youthful memories.
I had done twenty laps in the pool. I also ran a few miles along the ocean. I felt on top of the world when Juan Mendoza and Sally joined us. Sally virtually glowed. She seemed very excited.
The main event of the day would be a luau on the beach at dusk. But before that we would all get on a tourists' boat. It would sail us out onto the ocean and let us do some snorkeling.
The idea excited me. I love snorkeling. But Sally shrugged. She said she wouldn't join the pale, dull tourists on that boat. We were supposed to share it with a load of teachers from the north.
"Not cool at all, Jill," she said. "Let's go with Juan and Hector. They invited me to their luxury yaught. Come with us, Jill! So much more fun."
I looked at Juan. He nodded and smiled encouragingly.
Then Sally started to talk me into joining. She also invited Steve and Meredith. They hesitatingly accepted. I looked over at the group of teachers. They assembled on the patio that adjoined the breakfast room. They were a rather drab lot indeed.
"What the hell," I said. "Why take the school bus if there is a Ferrari waiting?"
Well, you know what happened. You read what Jake saw. But did he see what he thought he saw?
True, we had a lot of fun. And that's what it was, fun. There was booze and pot. Sally got topless. She said she always tanned topless. And we were not on a public beach, were we?
Besides, we were 21 again, remember? We were drunk and high. Even stalwart Meredith shrugged and tossed her bikini top on the table. Hector's Barbie wife hadn't bothered to wear one to begin with.
I can imagine why Jake made of it what he did. He was hot and tired by the time he arrived. He was pissed off when they refused him the room. He was disappointed seeing how his surprise plans didn't work out. He always gets a bit upset when he has to improvise.
And of course, there were the Mendozas.
I had been dating Juan that first year at law school. He was fun, charming and the best looking guy around. He also was rich and generous. His parties were famous.
I liked Jake from the first moment I saw him. But he was shy and very, very serious. He worked the hardest of the lot. He came from a poor background and had been awarded a scholarship. He never had much money. But I doubt he would have spent more if he had been wealthier.
Most of his time went to studying and the odd jobs he did for pocket money. I never saw him at parties. Even at a game of football or basketball he seemed to keep to himself.
He hardly ever stayed for a beer or a barbecue afterwards.
Then -- towards the end of the last semester of that first year -- Juan and Hector stole my law review. It wasn't that big a deal. I wouldn't have much trouble coming up with another idea. But the way Juan reacted to my protests turned me off. He never apologized. He just laughed. And in the days that followed he hardly acknowledged me.
Maybe, I thought, maybe this was the only reason why he dated me?
We had formed small task forces to do our projects. I was in a team with Jake and I told him about the theft.
God, I shouldn't have.
The next day I heard Jake had been beaten up by Juan and his brother. He had confronted them with the theft of my review. Hector had a black eye to show for it. But of course Jake had had no chance against the joined Cuban forces.
Classmates stopped the fight. Jake ended up with a lot of bruises and a disjointed jaw.
That is when I fell in love with him.
Jake always avoided the brothers after the fight. Being loyal I stayed away from them too. Not because I nursed a grudge about the theft. The whole thing was soon all but forgotten. Juan was Juan, I admitted. A lot of fun, but a spoilt stud. Nothing to spend precious time on.