Revelations & Resolutions

"I noticed," she said dryly and turned on her side away from him.

She'd do neither that night, he decided, so he cuddled against her spoon-fashioned and wrapped his arms around her. "You tell a hell of a story, Claire. I noticed the fantasy excited you, too. I thought I knew you, knew everything about you, but..." He hesitated.

"But what?"

"You've never admitted to such graphic fantasies before. Do you have them often?"

"What about you? Do you think about me with other men often?"

Just like her to answer a question with a question.

"No, not often. You didn't answer my question? Have you fucked many men since we've been married? In your mind, I mean?"

"A few. I have an active imagination, Scott. Do you think I'm wicked because I fantasize? I read somewhere that fantasizing is a good thing."

"Where? In some woman's magazine?"

"Probably. It's late, let's go to sleep."

He kissed the nape of her neck. "Okay. I love you, Claire. The party was a roaring success, mostly due to your efforts."

"Thank you. I love you, too." She yawned. "God, I'm tired."

Scott closed his eyes and wondered if he could sleep. He felt her relax against him, and a short time later, her breathing deepened. Obviously, she had no trouble sleeping. She had fucked another man tonight, but she didn't appear to harbor much guilt over her betrayal. If this had been the first time she had been with another man, Scott believed she would have exhibited more guilt, would have had trouble falling asleep, especially with the innuendoes he had left hanging in the air, with the hook he had snagged in her jaw as if she were a swordfish taking his bait. A half-hour later, still wide-awake, he moved away from her and rolled his feet to the floor. He strode naked to the family room and poured a brandy, settling into his chair, a large, comfortable chair that Claire threatened to give to the Good Will once a year, at least.

As he sipped and let the cognac warm him, he wondered how much of her fantasy was real, but with Josh, not Harrison. She had used her missing panties to heighten the fantasy, which wasn't real. Scott had watched her pull her panties on in the gazebo after she fucked Josh, so she'd been wearing them at that time. He suspected she removed them in the guest bathroom and washed herself shortly after his return, finally hiding the soiled lingerie in the towels. He did remember Claire dancing with Josh earlier, but he had not seen Josh push her into a dark corner and fondle her. Josh could have felt her up sometime during the evening before he left for the liquor store, though, and he suspected the scene in the kitchen had some validity. Certainly, her description of what happened in the gazebo rang true. He had personally witnessed part of her so-called fantasy.

Then he remembered her comment about the opportunity his absence provided. He had given her innumerable opportunities over the years to be with other men, not purposefully, of course, because he never considered Claire capable of betraying him with such ease.

And Josh's wife had gone into the guest bath with Bill, and Bill's wife had been busy with Pete. Had everyone but him messed around with someone else's spouse that night? Was that why Claire fucked Josh? Because everyone they knew fucked around?

Everyone but him. He had admitted to fantasies about other women, but he had never wanted another woman, not even in his fantasy world, not from the day he met Claire. He loved her dearly, and they had promised to be faithful to each other in their wedding vows. He, for one, had taken his promises seriously. Obviously, Claire had not. Oh, he'd looked. Scott appreciated beautiful things - the sensuous shape of a woman's leg, the roundness of a well-formed behind. Cleavage, though in truth he preferred perky, well-proportioned breasts to the monsters raved about by many men, and most of all he appreciated the overall look of a woman, a studied, put-together look designed to attract male eyes without being sluttish - like Claire. Yes, he looked.

Tears welled in his eyes again, and he felt so empty inside, so lost. What should he do? Soon, he would need to confront her and tell her he had seen her with Josh. But first he wanted to know if there had been others, other times, and other men. He needed to know the depth of her betrayal.

Weary. He suddenly felt so weary he wondered if he could push himself up and go back to bed. He set the snifter of brandy on the coffee table and stood, feeling lightheaded. He made it back to the bed and fell asleep two minutes after his head hit the pillow. He had feared he would relive the scene he had witnessed over and over in his sleep, but thankfully he spent the night dreamless.

* * * * *

Claire roused, blinking and rubbing her eyes. They felt fuzzy, like her brain. She glanced toward Scott. He was still asleep with a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. Cute drool, not disgusting. She wanted to reach and wipe the drop of moisture away, but he needed sleep and her touch might awaken him. Her heart went out to him, and her love for him washed over her like a soft spring rain. A lock of his thick, naturally curly hair had fallen over one eye, which prompted another urge to push it back from his face, but she quelled that urge, too. She remembered her first sight of Scott, standing tall and confident and very masculine as her date for that evening introduced her to him. She had been drawn to him immediately, and before the evening ended, she had become Scott's date, not quite sure how the switch had taken place, but immensely pleased nonetheless. She took him to her bed that very night and discovered he was the best lover she had ever had. Soon they were dating each other exclusively, a first for her, though she occasionally met a past lover without Scott's knowledge until he asked her to marry him.

She smiled and rolled her feet to the floor. The shower helped clear the fuzziness as she let it massage her sleep-stiffened muscles and beat on her slightly aching head.

God, what a night, especially after Scott and I went to bed, she thought as she dried her body with a towel. He had wanted her to tell him a fantasy, a fantasy involving the party, and she had told him one, changing the name of her adulterous co-conspirator to protect the not so innocent. And the telling of the fantasy combined with reliving her stolen, illicit moments with Josh had excited her all over again.

Then Scott had made the remark that made her wonder if he had seen her with Josh. Ten minutes, he had said. If he had arrived ten minutes earlier he would have seen her, he mentioned off hand. She remembered her heart seemed to stop beating for a few seconds. Had he seen her with Josh in the gazebo? Had he peered through the foliage, like he said, and watched her fuck his friend?

She shivered with dread and hoped beyond hope he had not seen them. She loved her husband, loved the life the two of them had created together, and she adored their daughter. If her sluttish dalliance with Josh ruined her marriage...

She berated herself, cursed herself for being such a damned fool. Why had she allowed things to go so far with Josh? She couldn't even blame what happened on booze. She had been the hostess and, accordingly, had been careful about her alcohol intake. She grimaced. Josh had not been as circumspect about the number of drinks he had tossed down, and with alcohol-dampened inhibitions, he had put on a full-court press, fondling her while she danced with him, pushing her into a dark corner and kissing her. His hands had been aggressive, too. With fewer drinks inside him, he would have backed off when she pushed his hands away the first time. She had always been able to handle him before, but he had persisted, pushing her panties to the side and sliding a finger into her cunt. The memory made her shiver with pleasure, and she felt an awakening twinge of arousal. God, he was nasty. He shoved his finger inside her as deep as it would go, and she let him thrust it into her a few times before she pushed him away. Then later, he had grabbed her in the kitchen...

She shook away the memories as she reflected on Scott's question last night. He had asked if she sometimes wanted a different man for variety's sake? Or, merely for the excitement of a new experience? If she had been honest, she would have answered his question with a resounding yes. Claire didn't equate love and sex. She had always enjoyed sex, had enjoyed sex with a variety of men, but had only loved one man in her life - her husband.

Still, when Josh had kissed her in the kitchen after Scott left for the store, she had grasped his hard-on and fondled its length over his trousers. It felt so long, longer than Scott's, and all at once she wanted to feel it inside her, feel it inside like she felt his finger jammed fully inside her cunt earlier. As she told Scott, she had the opportunity and she took it. Now she wished she'd been more prudent. In her passion-fogged mind, she saw no downside. Scott would be gone for a while, and no one had seen them in the kitchen, or for that matter, in the dark corner of the living room. But if by chance, someone had observed them, no one would spread the word. Claire had not been the only person to misbehave last night. She had no doubt Nancy had fucked Bill in the guest bath. And Bill's wife was in the master bedroom with Pete, the reason she couldn't use the master bath to clean Josh's semen from her pussy when she returned to the house. Pete's wife...she didn't know what Pete's wife was doing, or with whom, or where, but Claire knew she wasn't above fooling around. Last year, she had disappeared with... Claire couldn't remember, but she had disappeared with someone. The entire episode with Josh had been exciting - quick, unplanned, illicit, and nasty, which made it exciting. No harm, no foul, at least as long as Scott remained ignorant of the event. She knew she was making excuses, rationalizing what had happened, trying to make her adulterous, slutty behavior acceptable, at least to herself.

She put on a robe and padded to the kitchen. "Coffee," she muttered. "I need coffee." While the coffee perked, she straightened the remains of the mess from the previous night. She liked a tidy kitchen and a clean house, and took pride in her homemaking abilities.

Sometimes you are such a slut, she told herself with a sly smile as she wiped the table with a damp cloth. Last night had not been the first time she'd been unfaithful, and shaking her head, she realized it probably wouldn't be the last. And it wasn't because she didn't enjoy sex with Scott. In truth, he was the best lover she had ever been with, and she had been with a lot of men. She had told Scott she'd been a bit wild, but "a bit" stretched the truth a bit, she thought with a quiet chuckle. When she started fucking at the ripe age of fourteen, she found a pastime truly worthy of pursuit. She didn't know how many men she had been with before she met Scott. She wasn't the type to keep score, but in some circles she had been considered an easy lay. She chuckled. Why not? She had been easy. She liked to fuck. And Scott had been the best; she would not have married him otherwise.

But Scott was such a straight arrow, naïve actually. She knew he equated sex and love and would consider her adulterous behavior last night a betrayal. But in her mind, she had not betrayed him. She had merely been true to her nature. She had felt Josh's long cock over his trousers and had wanted to feel it inside her, so she had dragged him outside to the gazebo and fucked him, and afterwards she had been as deeply in love with Scott as she had been before the adulterous event, more in love with him actually. Being with Josh made her appreciate Scott that much more.

She poured fresh-brewed coffee into a cup, added cream and sugar, and let the aroma waft under her nose. She sipped and sighed. Turning to a sound, she watched Scott lumber into the kitchen.

"Pour me a cup, too, please," he said.

She loved his look. Tall and assured - four inches taller than her five nine. A thick hairless check with well-defined musculature, and dark, very intense liquid eyes she never tired of gazing into or feeling them inspect her, which they did frequently. This morning his dark, curly hair was wet, like hers, and plastered tightly to his head. He must have roused shortly after she showered. He looked...sad, sort of, definitely not happy. Usually he arrived in the kitchen each morning with a wide smile and a quick kiss for her, ready to attack the day. Not this morning.

Yes, she thought yet again. He saw me with Josh last night. What should I do? Should I confess and ask for his forgiveness, promise to never stray again? She set a cup of coffee in front of him, black like he liked it, and sat across the table as they both sipped their morning coffee with their own thoughts.

The silence stretched out for about a minute, and silence was so out of character for Scott. He couldn't stand silence. He had to fill the blank spaces. He glanced guiltily at her over the rim of his cup. Why? He didn't have anything to feel guilty about. Or did he? Damn him! He did have something to feel guilty about. He had seen her with Josh, and the sight had excited him. He had admitted to having fantasies about her with other men, and as she related the part fantasy, part true story last night, he had become excited all over again, like she had as she relived the illicit event. Yes, he had seen her with Josh.

"I'm sorry," she said simply.

"Do you love him?"

"No, not at all. I'm in love with you, Scott."

"Why then? Can you please explain how you could betray me like you did if you love me? I'm confused, Claire. I feel all empty inside, and so damned sad I could cry."

Claire watched as tears welled in his eyes, which wrenched her heart. She had hurt him deeply, she could see, and didn't now how to take his pain away, pain she had caused.

"I don't know if can explain, Scott. It just happened, like in the fantasy I told you about last night."

"I heard you tell Josh you didn't want an affair. Was last night the first time?"

She understood his question. She could no longer play to his naiveté. He had lost his innocence last night when he watched her fuck his friend.

"With Josh, yes," she said. No more secrets. Secrets undermined and destroyed. She'd tell him everything.

"Then there have been others?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Not many. I've never had an affair, Scott." Scott might consider the "not many" a lie, but her comment about not having an affair was true. An affair would have been messy. Besides, she had not loved any of the men she had been with over the years since her wedding day. She had enjoyed the illicit sex, the quick, exciting unplanned liaisons. She had rutted like a bitch in heat, and then walked away, always returning to the man she loved, the man sitting across the table from her.

He angrily brushed the heel of his hand across his eyes, wiping away his tears. "Define an affair," he demanded.

"Being with a man a number of times over a period of time. An affair would have required some deep affection for the man on my part, at the very least, if not some love. I've only loved one man in my life, Scott. You. I could never have an affair with another man."

"But you can fuck another man."

"Yes."

"You won't have an affair, but you'll take advantage of a quick, unplanned fuck, if an 'opportunity' arises?"

His bitter words stung her, and she winced as if he had struck her. When she refused to answer his question, he shook his head with disgust. She could see he was not only confused and hurt but also now he felt angry and revolted.

"I'm really sorry, Scott. What I did was wrong. It was wrong because I knew you would consider what I did as a betrayal of our love."

His eyes widened. "And you don't?" he asked utterly amazed.

"No. I don't equate love and sex like you. Last night, Josh excited me. He wanted me, and... Let me just say, I ended up wanting him, too. I didn't plan what happened. It was quick and nasty and exciting, and it was a one-time, never-to-be-repeated event. I didn't love you less afterwards. Like experiences in the past didn't change how I felt about you, either. In fact, some of them made me love you more. You are the best lover I've ever had, Scott, and whether you believe me or not, I love you as deeply as you love me, or rather the way you loved me before you saw me with Josh."

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

She remembered he felt guilty, too. It was time play to his guilt, a manipulative move, she knew, but she needed to turn the conversation away from her behavior. "Last night when I told you my fantasy, which you knew at the time was more a confession than a fantasy, you became excited. You relived the event like I did while I told you about it, didn't you?"

He looked sheepish and nodded.

"When you saw me with Josh in the gazebo, did you get a hard-on?"

Another nod. "Which confused me," he added.

"Why didn't you confront me immediately? You could have caught me with my panties down and off and in the act, so to speak."

"I don't know. When the moon came out from behind a cloud and I recognized you, it was as if someone had kicked all the wind out of me. I was stunned. I couldn't believe my eyes. I had to set the bags with the wine on the grass or I would have dropped them. I stood weak-kneed and wobbly and watched you fuck him and listened to your groans of pleasure, sounds I believed only I had heard for the last seven years. I watched as you experienced an orgasm, and watched as he climaxed inside you. I watched you move off him and put your panties back on. I heard him ask you to meet him this week and listened to you tell him you didn't want an affair, and then you left him. I watched him pull up his pants and follow you inside, and then I fell to the grass, and a cloud covered the moon again, and I wept in the pitch black of the night. That's when I noticed I had an erection, which confused me. I didn't confront you then or later, because I believed you no longer loved me. How could you love me and fuck another man so cavalierly, I asked myself. And because you had been so casual about fucking Josh, I believed you had been unfaithful before with other men. I had too many questions, and I wanted answers before I could confront you, before I could outline a course of action."

"Have you outlined your course of action?"

He shook his head. "I have some answers now, but I'm still befuddled. I love you. I watched you fuck another man, a so-called friend of mine, but I still love you. I don't think it's possible to turn love off in an instant, not honest love, but I don't like you this morning as much as I did yesterday morning, Claire."

She felt tears smart her eyes. He was not only the love of her life, he was also her best friend, and now because of her sluttish behavior, he didn't like her anymore. She jumped up and rushed from the room. She didn't want him to see her cry. She feared he would not take her in his arms and comfort her as he had in the past, and she couldn't bear the thought of weeping in the same room with him without his arms around her.

* * * * *

Claire's revelations stunned him. Scott sat and stared off into the distance, seeing nothing except prurient images of his loving wife fucking other men, faceless men right now, except for Josh. His mind roamed over the past. He tried to remember situations that would have given her an opportunity for a quick, nasty and exciting fuck, a one-time, never-to-be-repeated fuck, as she put it, but the past was rife with opportunities, too many for him to select any one circumstance with the slightest degree of accuracy. If his marriage continued, and at that point he seriously doubted he could keep it together, he knew she would have to tell him everything - in detail, at least with the detail she had expressed in her "fantasy" last night. He couldn't spend the rest of his life imagining her with other men engaged in quick, nasty fucks. Whether his imagination would exaggerate or fall short would not matter. Unless he knew everything, he wouldn't be able to keep their marriage together.