The Angel, the Bikers and Alice

I don’t want to start by telling you the size of Alice’s breasts. All that will come later. Instead I want to tell you about the first time I saw her. I was standing in the hallway of building attached to the church. The large window at the opposite end let in a stream of late afternoon sun. Alice was walking towards me, the light behind her. Her blond hair reflected the sunshine into a halo that glowed more brightly with every step she took towards me. The highly polished floor splashed the light about her feet so that she appeared to glide on a river of gold. When finally I saw her face she was smiling at me and the sense that I had seen an angel was complete.

It was an early spring day that I first saw my angel and it took until mid-summer before our first kiss. Unlike her other suitors who were professionals and usually very wealthy, I was just making my way as a sales representative for a machine tools manufacturer. I think my strongest appeal to Alice was the reliability of my affections and my practicality.

The thought that my wife would fuck another man had become a strong fantasy of mine. I used her imagined infidelities and pictured her whorish sex with other men to provoke a jealousy that intensified my erotic pleasure. The pain of these jealous feelings acted like the whip the masochist needs to arouse himself.

Alice was a few years younger than me and looked younger still. Her long, shapely legs ended in a tight, rounded, small butt. Her spine formed a valley that neatly divided her strong back and her blond hair swept her smooth, tanned shoulders. She complained about her small breasts, but to me they were perfect; firm with small delicate, responsive nipples. Her tummy was aerobicized and yoga-ed into flatness. Her pubic hair was regularly bikini-waxed. She was tall and her arms were long. . She had a bright smile which ignited her blue eyes. Alice worked at the local bank and spent her Sunday mornings in church. I was envied by my friends and colleagues. She was 31.

Our sex life was as normal as it gets. The initial enthusiasms of our early married years had waned to a regular twice-weekly, gentle but satisfying love making. My masturbation fantasies though always included Alice with another, indistinctly imagined, man. Alice knew nothing about this of course. We were happy in our marital routine.

There was a side to Alice that her best friend, Samantha, described as “the hidden Alice.” There was always something she held back, some reserve. Samantha put it down to Alice losing her father when she was a child or it could have been a natural shyness. Whatever the cause, I didn’t much think about it anymore; instead taking and accepting what Alice showed me of herself. Paying attention to one’s wife is important as I was to discover. The story that follows is a terrible cliché. My famed practicality took the opportunity to turn fantasy into reality and although my imagination was a poor substitute for the reality that followed, the basic outline of my pornographic wishfulness was granted. It all began one early fall day with Tommy.

I was sitting at home on a Saturday afternoon with Tommy, a colleague from work. He was a tall guy with muscled forearms and a wide chest. His hair was always cut really short and he had a cocky way of walking, swaying slightly, almost inviting a challenge. His wife and kids were out of town for the weekend and so I had invited him to watch the Red Sox game with me. He had never met Alice before. She walked into the den from the garden where she had been digging and planting. She was wearing shorts and an old work shirt of mine, the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was in a ponytail that was threaded through the back of a baseball hat. Her face lit up with a hostess smile when she saw Tommy. She advanced towards him apologizing for dirty hands, welcoming him and introducing herself. I watched Tommy eye her ass as she left the room.

“Wow,” he said automatically and then apologized.

“No, no,” I assured him. “She is very beautiful. I am a very lucky man. I can’t help looking either.”

“You are right about that,” he replied laughing.

We fell into silence watching the game.

Tommy had clearly been thinking about my comment. “So you don’t mind guys checking out your wife?” He said with a nervous laugh.

“Not at all,” I replied. “I enjoy it actually.”

Our attention returned to the game only to be interrupted by Alice returning to the garden, skipping past the television and apologizing in her giggly way. This time Tommy looked her up and down without apology. This was not lost on Alice who blushed and hurried out.

“My wife’s a dog,” he said. “Tries her best of course, but she can’t compete with the likes of Alice. It must be like fucking a porno star. How about a swap,” he laughed.

“Sure. As long as I can watch,” I replied.

At work the next week Tommy asked whether I had been serious. I told him I was but that Alice is not that kind of woman. He told me that he had “whacked off” all weekend thinking about Alice. “Should have swiped a pair of her panties,” he said. His explicit sexual references to Alice excited me and Tommy could see it. “Maybe you should ask her,” he said.

Tommy was back the next Saturday sitting in the same spot. Unfortunately Alice was heading out to a Church function and had only time give him her hostess smile before leaving. We watched the game for a while but we were clearly thinking about Alice.

“Let’s check out her panty drawer,” he said.

My heart beat violently as we walked across the bedroom floor. I felt both a great excitement and a great sense of violating Alice’s privacy. I confessed to Tommy that I had never actually looked in her panty drawer before. He laughed telling me that this was the place of a woman’s secrets. Alice’s many pairs of panties were tossed into the drawer. Tommy rifled through them extracting a couple of black silky numbers and laying them on the bed. Next he pulled the heap of panties forward and looked at the back of the deep drawer. There he discovered two amazing things. Firstly, several pairs of panties I had never seen before. There were tiny thongs and see-thru lace panties. What was more interesting was the battered old paperback that Tommy extracted. It was a sixties-type porn novella with a busty blond on the front cover being restrained by two burly motorbike riders. The book opened to passages describing group sex and forced sex. A small piece of paper drifted to the floor. Tommy picked it up. “It says, ‘5.30 The Red Lobster Bar’.” Why would it be in that book and who had written it?

“So, said Tommy, “she likes to wear fuck panties and she masturbates while reading group sex scenes. Not quite the innocent little girl is she?”

“I guess not.”

“She also met someone at this bar, someone she associates strongly with sex.”

Tommy, the amateur sleuth, scooped up one of the black silky panties from the bed and stuffed it into his pocket. He returned the rest of the loot back to its original home.

“I was a biker once, in my youth. Tell her that.”

Later that night I lay with Alice in bed. “So what did you think of Tommy?” I asked.

“Alright I suppose,” she replied still nose-first in her mystery novel.

“He seemed to like you,” I said. Alice shot a quick look in my direction.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Nothing, he just said you were a nice looking person.”

“Oh.”

I curled up close pressing myself against Alice’s warm, smooth skin and played with her nipple. She put down her book and slipped down into the bed turning her back to me and pressing her ass against my hardening cock.

“He was a biker once. He tells some amazing stories.”

“Like what?”

“Guys talk dear, not suitable for a lady’s ears,” I teased.

“Don’t be silly,” Alice said “I’m a big girl. Tell me. Please.”

I invented the kind of story I imagined her porn book contained. That night we fucked as hard as the early days, Alice athletically moving her hips over my cock until her orgasm sent ripples of intense pleasure through her. It was then that I thought that perhaps, just perhaps, my fantasy might step out into reality.

The Red Lobster Bar was just a block away from Alice’s Bank downtown. Nothing was red except the vinyl on the booth seats and there was no lobster on the menu. It was early afternoon and there were only a couple of customers drinking silently and alone. I leaned against the bar and ordered a beer from the lanky young barman. I showed him a picture of Alice and asked whether he had seen her. He looked briefly and then said that there were too many people for him to remember every face that walked through the door. I drank my beer wondering what Alice could be up to here. Perhaps it was an innocent drink with a girlfriend?

I smelled the breath of the old man before I saw him.

“You a private detective?” he asked, pushing his empty glass in my direction. I ordered two more beers while the barman gave my new companion an angry look.

“No. Just looking for an old friend.”

“You’re her hubby aren’t you?” he said coughing. I didn’t answer but he laughed and coughed and tapped his nose. “I can always tell when they’re with their husbands and when they aren’t. She looked like she was without her husband when I seen her. Pretty girl for sure.”

Somehow he had already managed to drink nearly all his beer and he downed the remaining liquid while looking at me, sizing me up. He pushed his glass forward again. I ordered another for him.

“When does she come here? Who is she with?” I asked.

“Thursdays usually. As to who she is with that’s a more difficult question. A very difficult question,” he said tapping his nose once again.

“You know?” I asked.

“Knowing is not quite right. I have my suspicions. Only suspicions mind, nothing very definite.”

“Tell me,” I said leaning closer despite the foulness of his breath.

“Well, it’s like this, he said, taking his time, drawing out his story, “the first time she comes in, right, and well, she’s the most beautiful girlie in the joint so even an old bugger like me notices. She slips into a back booth trying not to be noticed which is like a bit of joke you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the guys at bar here are debating who’s the lucky chap who will offer to buy her a drink. I know differently,” he says again tapping his nose. “I reckon she’s meeting someone and then this someone walks in. I knew he was the guy because he was looking around like a mongoose.”

At this point the old man paused and pushed his newly empty glass across the bar counter and I summoned the barman once again. Once he had his first deep gulp the story resumed.

“Now, he was a smart looking man. Works in an office I would say. Judging from his shoes he would management. See I notice things like that. Not a big man but not small either. Average I would say. Handsome certainly and a smart dresser too.” “Well,” he continued, “they have an intense conversation, leaning head-to-head. Then she throws her head back and laughs. A beautiful laugh. He buys the drinks and they sit for about an hour before she leaves. He leaves five minutes later. The same thing the next week and most Thursdays since.” He paused, taking a deep draught of his beer and wiped his weepy nose with his sleeve and completed his story. “So who’s the mystery man? Well, if I was you my friend I would be looking at guys at her work. Her boss maybe. No, her boss for sure.”

I left the old man slurring his words with a fresh beer in front of him. My wife was a cheating, masturbating connoisseur of sixties porn. This was not the Alice I knew, but it was certainly the Alice I intended to get to know. The knot of jealousy, even anger was diluted by an intense and delicious sexual fire. This explained the fuck-me panties and the note. It also explained the working late on a Thursday. If they left the Red Lobster after an hour then there was another hour-and-a-half unaccounted for. Half-an-hour to get home. That leaves an hour. Where was the question? Where were they fucking?

I told Tommy of my discoveries. He seemed delighted both with this news and the news of how she took the idea of Tommy being an ex-biker. We planned the weekend together. He would visit again on Saturday to watch the game and I would give him an opportunity to speak to Alice alone. Meanwhile I waited for Thursday.

It was true she took special care on the morning of her rendezvous. Her newly washed golden hair flowed over her tanned shoulders and she wore a tight necklace with a green stone at her throat. She smelled wonderful, a mixture of her perfume and the faint scent of her shampoo. She applied very little makeup, just enough to highlight her generous lips and to draw attention to her sparkling eyes. She wore fitted black pants that shaped her ass perfectly and the tight blue top made her breasts seem larger than usual and her belly flatter. I sat at the counter in the kitchen sipping my morning coffee.

“Busy day?” I asked, an erection forming at the sight of her and the accompanying thought that she was dressed for someone else.

“Oh, the usual, nothing special, darling.” She said in her soft, disarming, beautiful voice. She was a good liar too. This was nother discovery of the journey into the new Alice. She walked around the counter to kiss me goodbye. Instead of my usual peck I slipped my hand over her ass, feeling the firmness of her muscled buttock.

“I could do with a bit of this,” I said.

“Not now silly, I have to go to work. I will be late.” She lifted my hand from her ass and kissed it. “Later my love,” she said.

“Tonight?” I asked.

“Maybe, but I will be late as usual. Its Thursday, we have to go over the week’s accounts.” This she announced as she drifted off down the passageway towards the front door like an autumn leaf propelled by a gentle wind. Her parting shot was an “I love you.”

I immediately ran upstairs and checked her panty drawer. One of the fuck-me panties was missing as I predicted. It was a white pair, see-thru and laced in the front and nothing but a string of fabric at the back. The front and back were connected by slivers of elastic. I had to imagine how her tuft of pubic hair would be visible through the front of the panties and how her ass would be neatly divided by the string at the back. Of course, I now knew that whereas I had to imagine this, some guy today would not have to imagine anything at all.

I arrived at the Red Lobster at 4.45. My drunken old man was sitting in his usual place. When he saw me he smiled and tapped his nose. I quickly bought a beer and took up a place in a booth on the other side of the bar. This would give a view through the large mirror on the back wall of the booth the old man had indicated as their spot. The only danger was if Alice took the seat facing the back wall of the bar. Then she would be able to see me through the mirror as well as I would be able to see her. But my hunch was that if she arrived first she would face the front of the bar and the door.

Alice arrived promptly at 5.30 and sat facing the street as I expected. Her promptness was another of her endearing characteristics. She always appeared eager to see the person she was meeting and still after these years of marriage my heart skipped when I met her in public, outside a cinema or restaurant. I could see that Alice was nervous. I recognized how she flicked her hair back and twisted her ring; all small signs of her inner fearfulness. I didn’t have to wait long before he arrived. He was bigger than me and filled out his suit well. He was clean shaven and walked purposefully across the bar towards my wife. Her smile beamed as she half got up to greet him. By now my heart was racing and my palms were sweating. My morning erection reappeared, only more urgently as I watched them talk. They feel into immediate conversation, seemingly taking up where they had recently left off. This was more evidence that this was an office liaison. When he got up to get drinks he looked directly at me but his eye passed on, not recognizing the husband of the woman he was seducing. He knew her drink; a glass of chilled white chardonnay. They resumed their conversation for a while and then I was struck cold when she leaned across and kissed him. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it was a stolen kiss, quickly taken. I remembered those kisses from our early days together. Her whole face would light up afterwards and her sexuality would vibrate across the divide between us. It was a painful blow at first. I felt hurt and deeply jealous. She was my wife. But then as the pain slowly ebbed it was replaced by an excitement that was so intense it seemed that blue cracking electricity had replaced the blood in my veins. I was looking down into my beer glass trying to control my see-sawing emotions when I heard her laugh. It seemed to rise until its beautiful soft perfection silenced all other sound in the room. It was almost too much for me to bear. I fought the impulse to rush across the room and declare her my wife. The hardness of my erection provided a sobering counterbalance to my jealousy and now rising anger. How could she do this? Alice? She was so much the good girl with a giggly slightly naughty way about her. She would never take a risk like this. She was a cautious person I used to think. She was my angel. Clearly I was wrong.

He left to go to the bathroom. Alice propped up her chin on her palms. She was deep in reflection. I felt sorry for her then, knowing that she must have ambivalence about what she was doing. Her face changed immediately she heard him returning, brightening like the sun streaming through on a cloudy day. A few minutes later he looked at his watch and got up to leave. Alice reached across and touched his hand. He smiled and turned, walking briskly out of the bar. Alice sat pondering for a few minutes before leaving in her turn.

I had not given much thought to what I would do next. I would follow her I suppose and discover where their love nest was. When I got out of the bar I couldn’t see either her or her lover. Then I saw the flash of her brilliant golden hair as she lowered herself into a large Mercedes halfway along the block. My own car was in the lot across the road. There was no time to follow so I watched as my wife disappear, coddled in the leather seats of a car I couldn’t afford with a man who was about to screw her.

Alice arrived home a little later than usual. She almost always arrived somewhere in the eighth innings. Tonight I was already watching the post-game show when I heard her key rattle in the front door. She dropped her bag and slung her coat across the banister.

“Hey sweetie,” she said, coming across the room and flopping in a chair. “I’m whacked,” she sighed. Fucked more like, I thought. “I’m going to bed straightaway. You finish watching your game.” She heaved herself out the chair.

“What about your promise?” I asked.

“What promise?”

“You know, sex. You promised sex.” This came out not in the playful way I intended but more like a whine.

“Not now sweetie, I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I work hard you know.”

This made me angry suddenly. These were all lies and I still hadn’t adapted to my wife Alice the liar and cheat. Her innocent and assured tone caused a flash of rage to cross my brain.

“Jesus, Alice, just a fuck. A simple fuck. It can be quickie.” I grabbed her wrist as she tried to slide past me.

“What’s your issue?” She said obviously puzzled. “You’re hurting me.”

I tried to pull her towards me but she resisted. I yanked harder and she toppled over on to her knees. I could see the surprise in her eyes. I could see that she wondered if I had found out. What else could have made me so angry?

“Is there something wrong?” She asked still wincing with the pain of my grip, her blue eyes now guarded and watchful.