The Good Wife: Resubmission Ch. 01

Reconnect

I'm a slut and a whore. You wouldn't know it from looking at me, hell, I didn't even know it about myself for the longest time, but I am. Don't get me wrong, I'm not the type of girl that you can expect to pick up in a bar with a few drinks and witty one liner or two. No, that's not me and that's not what I mean. I'm a slut who craves cock, who craves to be used, and I'm ready to go all the time. Fuck me, use me, humiliate me, pass me around to your friends (or strangers), do what you like – I'm yours. More than that though, I need it – I need that type of handling, I need to be used, I need to be your whore.

I wasn't always like this. Oh, maybe I was and I just didn't know it, who knows, that's a question for the psychologists to wonder over. One doesn't just wake up one day and decide that they like to be submissive. It's something that is discovered in oneself. It's something that is unlocked by just the right strong and forceful hand. There are surely signs along the way, maybe you like your hair being pulled while you're ridden from behind? Maybe that smack on your ass makes you buck harder against that cock? Who knows? The signs are there, unfortunately, we don't always connect the dots. I didn't, not until I met up with Gavin, not until three weeks before I was to be married. Please, allow me to explain.

I work for a local television station in Albany NY as a sales representative, and I'm damn good at it. I really can't explain it, but I'm just really good at sales. People feel at ease around me, they feel comfortable talking to me, I'm thorough, I do my research, I don't try to sell people anything just for the sake of making a sale, I actually care. It doesn't hurt that I'm gorgeous too. I've had stubborn customers that I've been able to sway with a little flirting. You'd be surprised how just one more button down and the flash of a little cleavage can sway someone. Men still dominate the business world and so most of my customers are men. Twirling my hair around my finger, a slight touch of my hand on theirs, sideways glances, a flash of a smile... they're all putty in my hands. Please, don't get the wrong impression though, I've never slept with or fooled around with one of my customers. I'm thirty-four and have been with the same man, faithfully, for the last seventeen years. I have more integrity than that.

My life was great, everything was going so smoothly. I had a great job, I owned my own house, I was engaged to the perfect man... everything was looking up. Then I met Gavin, or rather, he walked back into my life after seventeen years. We had a history, that's all I really feel comfortable saying right now, we had a history. In a weird way, I owed him a lot. He helped me to discover a strength within me, it's because of him that I am strong and independent, and really, it's because of him that I met Tom, my fiancé.

It was a Thursday afternoon, I was sitting at a great little Japanese Restaurant on Western Avenue chatting with a client. It wasn't one of the harder sells, not the type of client that I needed to pop a button for, no. This client was one that I'd had for a very long time, we were just going over a new series of ads. That's when I noticed Gavin walk into the restaurant. I knew immediately that it was Gavin, he looked exactly the same as he had seventeen years ago, just a little older. He was taller than me, maybe 5'10", dark hair cut neatly, a salt and pepper goatee that I remember being much darker. Years ago he was more of the wiry sort, but he'd grown and filled out. He's thicker now, not fat, just bigger. And then there was the way he walked. There was there sense of confidence in his walk that very few men have, a type of strut you might say, but not a strut. I guess that you could call it a type of swagger, a confidant walk, oozing with arrogance and a hit of aggressiveness. He always carried himself like that, always. It didn't matter when or where, he always looked so sure of himself, as though nothing in this world could ever phase him.

I followed him through the restaurant with my eyes, not just watching him, but rather taking in his every move, his every step, delighting in the smarmy way that he wove through and past the other customers. Part of me wanted him to look my way, to notice and remember me, part of me still was scared of him, trying to wrest control of my legs and run just like I had done seventeen years ago. I felt my hand go up to my top button and start to work it between my fingers, toying with it, ready to pop it open. My client was still talking, I smiled and nodded, but I wasn't listening, my entire focus was on Gavin. Finally, Gavin was seated. He was a few tables away and facing me almost directly. I had to get control of myself, I kept telling myself over and over that I wasn't seventeen anymore. I'm a woman now, not a girl. He has no control over me. I pushed those old feelings down, trying my best to exude my own sense of confidence. I'm not a gawky little girl anymore, I'm a successful woman that men chase after. I'm strong now, I'm the one in control. I decided then that I wanted him to look at me, to see me in my new glory, and regret the past, to regret letting me run away that night. I felt my fingers pop that top button, I felt my shirt part ever so slightly, showing off cleavage to the top of my bra.

Look at me, I thought, staring at Gavin, look at me damn it. I shifted my attention back to my client, but I kept an eye on Gavin, waiting for him to see me. I watched as he smiled and flirted slightly with the waitress, a young girl with a pretty smile. I felt a distinct pang of jealousy and frustration. Gavin was supposed to be fawning over me, not this little girl. My instinct was to make noise, to distract them both, to cut short their flirtations and draw attention to myself, but I fought the urge. It would be obvious then. No, I had to be patient.

Gavin finished ordering and the little bitch of a waitress disappeared into the kitchen. She flitted past him, dropping off a drink and just as fast flitted away to other tables. That's when it happened, Gavin scanned the room as he took a sip from his drink, stopping when his eyes fell on me. I couldn't make out the hazel of his eyes, but I knew them well. Intense hazel eyes that held you captive and uncomfortable in their glare. A slight smile touched his lips as he took me in with those eyes.

Oh shit, now what? I hadn't thought this all the way through. I was so excited for him to notice me that I hadn't given a thought as to what would come next.

I flashed a smile that was too willing, too excited, too anticipating. I felt like I was sixteen again and had just caught his attention. I was giddy and he could see it, I had to get myself under control.

Gavin knows people, he can read them like an open book. He has an uncanny knack for tapping right into your fears and desires if you don't guard yourself. I didn't want him to see me like this, to see me acting like a sixteen year old girl. No, I composed myself. I shoved those feelings back down and stepped back into my adult self.

"Excuse me." I said to my client, rising up from the table, "I'll just be a moment."

I walked to Gavin's table, holding him in my eyes like he was some type of animal that I had to stand up to, stare down, and not show fear to.

He rose to meet me, leaning out to kiss me on the cheek. The sensation of the soft lips surrounded by the course goatee sent electricity through me. I was tingling all over and fell right back into my sixteen year old self. I kissed him back, gently, on the cheek, allowing my lips to linger there for a moment longer than is normal when kissing a friend. Then, just as when I was sixteen, my eyes went right to the floor, avoiding his gaze, waiting...

"Please, sit." He motioned to the chair across from his, I could hear the slightest lilt of a chuckle in his voice. "How have you been?"

"I've been fine." I answered in a rote manner, the way we all do. I shook off the old feelings, stepping out of the sixteen year old and back into the thirty-four year old. "What about you, how have you been?"

"I've been well." The smile on his lips didn't reflect in his eyes, they were two cold orbs reading me, piercing me. "I recently moved back, I'm living down in Kinderhook."

"Nice." I smiled. The boring idle chatter that we need to feel comfortable with the person across from us, dancing in this boring circle until we're comfortable, until we've felt the other one out, then we can move forward into real conversation. "I'm still living in Palenville, not with my parents though, I have my own place."

"Good." Gavin continued probing me with his eyes. "So, when you get married, will you both move into your house or into Tom's?"

I paused for a moment, shocked that he knew anything about Tom and I. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, he knew that he had caught me unaware.

"We have a little less than a month until the wedding, and honestly, we're still working out all the details." I smiled a broad and fake smile, the salesman smile, trying to hide the shock

"Yeah, I've kept in touch with Tom on Facebook, we've been friends on there for a while."

Gavin and Tom were old friends. In fact, it was because of Gavin that Tom and I met. It was awkward, especially for Tom, but then Gavin moved away. I didn't know that they kept in touch.

"Look, I have a client here that I have to get back to. Why don't we meet up for a drink sometime to catch up."

"Sure." Gavin smiled, rising to kiss me goodbye.

"Do me a favor though, let's keep this between you and I, I don't know how Tom would feel about it." I'd never kept anything from Tom, I've always told him everything, but I don't know how this would go over with him. I never wanted to hurt him, plus, I had something in mind for a meeting with Gavin.

"Not a problem." He said, studying my eyes intensely until I looked away, "Mums the word. How about tomorrow at four at that little Irish Pub out where you live?"

"That's fine, it's dark and usually quiet during the week." I forced myself to look back up at him. It drove me crazy that I couldn't break out of old habits around him.

"Bye." We kissed again, and the same tingling sensation shot through my body at his touch. Again my lips lingered too long on his cheek. I realized then that I was hoping that he would touch me, that his hands would find their way across my body and up into my hair the way that they would when I was sixteen. I ached for his touch and it shocked and scared me.

Remorse

"What the fuck were you doing in there?" I said out loud in my car, staring at myself in the rearview. "What the hell were you thinking?"

I was mortified at the way I reacted to seeing Gavin, I was mortified at the way I acted with him, and worse, I was mortified at the plan that I had already formulated. I was fighting my instinct. How could I do this to Tom? Tom, who had stood by me faithfully for the last seventeen years. He rescued me that night, chasing after me when everyone else laughed. He was my hero that night, from that whole situation. We built a life together. College, grad school, our first real jobs, we did it all together. We waited to get married and to start a family until we had build a good life for ourselves. Now, we're on the cusp of all of that, a little less than a month away from getting married, we're talking about having children now. So how could I do this to him? Especially with Gavin, the man that I needed rescuing from.

The argument was futile, it was a fight that was lost before I started. I wanted to meet Gavin and all the remorse was just a way to make myself feel better. I could tell myself that I tried to fight the urge, that I tried to resist the temptation, but I knew better. The argument was insincere and spurious at best, a facade to make me feel better afterward.

The drive from Albany to Palenville is usually about forty minutes. I decided that I would take that time to think things though. At the end of the forty minute drive, when I placed my foot outside of the car, I would have a decision, I would have a plan that I would stick to. That would be the time used to figure out just what, if anything, that I would do with Gavin, how far I would go with him, or more importantly, how far I would let him go with me.

Tom wouldn't have to know. That simple idea alleviated a lot of the guilt. We weren't virgins when we met after all. It's not as if we were unsullied before we had met. Hell, the very first time that he had laid eyes on me I was naked and standing in front of him, Gavin, and four other men. So one last romp with an old flame right before getting married wouldn't be a big deal. That's what I told myself, that's how I rationalized the whole plan I had formulated.

Sure, I felt guilty, I was, after all, betraying Tom. But the fact is that I still loved him, that I still wanted to marry him, that I wanted to have a life and a future with him and only him. Nothing about our life together would change. I was just having one last fling.

Forty minutes later, I stepped out into my driveway in Palenville. My mind was set, I would meet with Gavin and have that one last fling. Afterward, I would forget it all and go back to the devoted fiancée/wife.

The Plan

All the guilt aside, my plan was simple and sexy, and it was all that I could think about the following day at work, counting the hours before I would meet with Gavin. The day was a blur. I was lost in a haze of anticipation, stiffly going through my daily routine without thinking. I was on autopilot, filing paperwork for the advertisements in the next day's paper, checking in with customers, cold calling, following up on leads, all done in a haze.

I wondered if it was the idea of meeting Gavin that was the real turn on. Was it the fantasy of it all that was getting me wetter and wetter with each passing minute? Did I really want to feel him on me again? Did I want to feel his cock in me just one more time? Or would I be let down after it was all said and done? Would the reality never live up to the expectation? Would I be better off closing my eyes tight and thinking about Gavin the next time I have sex with Tom? My mind wandered back and forth between the uncertainty of it all and the longing to meet with Gavin. Oh, I wanted to feel his breath on my neck again, to let my lips linger on his skin and stroke his goatee. I wanted raw and uninhibited passion that I knew only when I was with Gavin.

No, I would meet him, my mind was made up. For good or bad, I would meet him. Maybe I created a fantasy that reality could never match, but I had to know, I had to have the experience, otherwise I would wonder over it for years to come. I would regret not indulging in this one and only indiscretion.

I would have just enough time to get home, shower, and change before having to meet with Gavin. I told Tom that I would be working late and just wanted to be left alone tonight. It's nothing that would ever raise an eyebrow with him, it happens from time to time with the both of us. Not to mention, he trusts me implicitly, and that's one of the biggest problems for me, the betrayal of that trust. But I just have to see where this leads.

I sped down the thruway faster than normal, trying to give myself time to get ready. The whole idea of this was making me hot, I was getting hornier and hornier the faster I drove. I caught myself grinding my hips ever so slightly in the car, stopping abruptly, then starting again as soon as my mind would wander. My panties were a mess, warm and wet between my legs. I toyed with the idea of touching myself as I drove, indulgence and relief, but I didn't dare, not when I was already speeding.

Clothes trailed my way from the front door to the bathroom, shedding shoes, dress, and panties in a bee line to the shower. Damn the mess, I'll clean it later.

I couldn't help but to let my fingers wander across my body as the water cascaded down, lathering myself with a patchouli body wash. I rubbed the scrunchie hard against my breasts and nipples, closing my eyes and thinking about Gavin's hands pushing and pinching as he used to do. I leaned back against the wall of my shower allowing my hands to go further down, I winced as the scrunchie passed through my legs. I was sore and swollen from the ride home, from grinding against the seat. My hips thrust out as I moved the scrunchie back and forth between my legs. I let my eyes close and go over the plans that I had made for tonight:

Out of the shower and dried, I slip into a pair of black lace bra and panties, the kind that are functional for one thing only. I stare at myself in the mirror for a long moment, adjusting the small ribbons on the bra and stockings so they're straight and centered. My hair is still slightly damp from the shower, it's a dark blonde, naturally wavy, and falls right into place as I comb my fingers through it. On the coat rack by the door is my trench coat; tan, form fitting, and falling slightly above my knee. One last look in the mirror, then all set.

I pull up to the small Irish Pub in Palenville, Gavin's car is here. I park next to him then touch up my make-up in the rearview and head in. It's a fairly seedy place that's been trying for years to change the image and draw a younger and more respectable clientele. No luck so far.

The week days are generally slow with just a few regulars who pop their heads in, it's even slower at four in the afternoon. There are a few men sitting at the bar carrying on a conversation that I can barely hear. There are two men sitting at a table together laughing. They all stop and look back at me as the door squeaks my arrival. I feel naked in their eyes. It's more than just a casual glance to see who walked in, most women can relate here, it's the type of lascivious stare that men get to let you know that you're little more than meat to them. In their eyes, my coat and cloths are off, oh, if they only knew the truth about what I was wearing underneath. It's dark and shadowy inside, a feature that lends itself to the seediness of the place. The only lights come from the bar and from the small hammered copper sconces hung above each table. The walls and floors are a dark wood and the air smells of stale beer and last night's whiskey. The perfect place for a tryst. The atmosphere matches the base and guttural nature of this meeting.

Sitting alone at a table in the corner is Gavin, sipping a three fingers glass of scotch with another glass of scotch waiting in front of the empty chair across from him. He came here right from work, still wearing the suit and tie. I stare at him for a moment, an oddity here. He's out of place in this bar, hell, we both are. It's not because he's wearing a suit in a place that has never seen anything but workbooks, jeans, and flannel. It's not because he's sipping on scotch instead of whatever is on tap. No, it's nothing pretentious like that, rather, it's simply the way he drinks. Gavin drinks scotch because he enjoys it, it's something I always remembered about him. He'll have one, maybe two, and then he's done. The men here swill their beer to forget about a hard day at work, to forget about being unemployed, to forget about working their knuckles to the bone for a measly check that barely puts food on the table. The men at the bar and the men at the table, maybe they know each other, maybe they don't, but they can recognize a familiarity amongst one and other, a sense of camaraderie, a sense of belonging – one that Gavin could never find here. To them Gavin is an outsider, his suit makes him a pussy in their eyes, somehow less than a man. And me, I'm a whore to them .

This is my last chance to walk away without regret, without violating my relationship with Tom. For just a moment I want to turn and run, to put this all behind me, to drive straight to Toms and give myself to him and forget that I ever saw Gavin. I hesitate for just a moment, my legs seem stiff and reluctant, but no, I have to see where this leads.