A Six Pack of Revenge Pt. 01

I had terrific editing help from a wonderful Montreal lady writer. Thank you N.!

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The Final Betrayal

She walked into my office just as I was preparing to go home. It had been a long day, and every inch of body ached from exhaustion.

Sex on heels.

It was the only way to describe her.

Sky-high stilettoes, pointed red nails, a skin-tight dress that barely covered her rounded bottom or her too firm, too perky breasts. One perfectly drawn eyebrow raised condescendingly, she gave me a quick once over making me feel acutely aware of how frumpy I must look in my dull, but serviceable navy-blue suit in a size twelve, my black square-toed pumps and my hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. Not a trace of makeup on my face, whatever lipstick I had put on earlier in the morning long faded away.

Her brilliant, glossy red lips stretched into a thin, subtly menacing smile.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I knew what she was going to say. Sadly, it wasn't my first encounter with one of my husband's vamps (as I liked to call them) and if I was honest with myself, I knew it probably wouldn't be the last either. I found myself standing up straighter and curling my hands into fists, unconsciously bracing myself for a fight.

Her voice drawling and irritating she spun her story, going into vivid details that seemed plainly unnecessary. She rattled on about how many months they had been sneaking around behind my back, meeting in hotels, at his office, even at our home. With a conscious effort, I forced myself to betray no emotion, taking a subtle joy in discomfiting her with my lack of reaction. The truth was I had heard similar stories numerous times before; nothing she said could or would shock me.

If my math was correct, the vamp body count was now up to half a dozen. But this time, unlike the last five occurrences, I had no intention of taking it quietly. My voice firm and steady, I told her to leave my office at once. For good measure, I picked up my phone and dialled the number for security. Taking the hint, she withdrew from the office with one final taunt.

"He's going to leave you, I just thought you should know who he's leaving you for."

Her words made me want to laugh. Leave me? No Scott wasn't going to leave me. I knew my husband well enough to know this.

Once the bitch on heels - as I renamed her after our very brief conversation- left, I sat back down on my chair. Elbows planted on the table, hands twisted into a knot staring blankly ahead at the white wall. Was our life together so dull he needed to find entertainment elsewhere? Would I spend the rest of my life having these conversations with women young enough to be my daughter?

29 years was a long time to be married to the same person, I knew that. Our sex wasn't as exciting as it used to be or as frequent. A man has needs I got that. But why couldn't he talk to me about it? Why did he keep promising he would change if he had no intention of changing?

Apparently, he no longer found me attractive... did he still even love me? The thought made me sad. Picturing Scott having sex with that woman made me feel nauseous. This vamp was by far the boldest and sexiest out of all the other women Scott had cheated with, and she had made me think the worst. She had taken a perverse pleasure detailing her affair with my husband, and she had made sure to paint a very graphic picture with her words. It hurt my head just thinking about it, and I couldn't get rid of the vision of her long legs wrapped around his face as he ate her out on our bed.

On our bed!

He had never done that before. Bring one of his skanks to our house and in our bed. He had crossed a line with that, and I didn't know if I could forgive him for this betrayal.

Damn him.

Damn his roving penis.

Damn me for still loving him, philandering ways and all.

But no more being the understanding, supportive wife.

This time I was pissed.

This time he was going to pay.

The only question was how?

The Plan:

Just then an incoming text message beeped loudly, intruding into my troubled thoughts.

"You can now check in for your upcoming Air Transat flight to Costa Rica."

Costa Rica?

Costa Rica!

Absorbed by my husband's infidelities I had completely forgotten that in less than 24 hours I was leaving for a long-awaited, much desired for, a solo vacation to Costa Rica! I sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the unexpected reprieve. Feeling humiliated as I was, the last thing I wanted was to see Scott right now. I didn't have the energy in me to fight this out, to listen to his litany of excuses and promises to behave better in the future.

What I wanted more than anything else in the world was to be left entirely alone. And sulking next to a stretch of pristine white sand and endless blue water would be much better than sulking in the confines of my office.

I sent off a quick email to our two daughters, reminding them I was off to Costa Rica the next day and would let them know when I got there. Thinking of our daughters who were off and settled into their own lives always calmed me down; they were the best part of Scott and me.

Thankfully Scott was still out when I got home, and I remembered him saying he had a late work meeting that day which I'm pretty sure was a lie. If I weren't feeling so heartbroken I would have called him out on it, but at that moment, I didn't care whom he was with, I was just glad he wasn't home. I ordered some takeout, finished packing my suitcase and putting all my documents in order. By nine pm Scott still wasn't back which was perfect for me. I sent him a quick text saying I was heading to bed early and asking if he could sleep in the guest room. Without waiting for a reply, I locked the bedroom door, changed into a comfy pair of flannel pyjamas and settled into bed to watch reruns of Law and Order. By the time I fell asleep an hour later Scott still hadn't come home.

I slept badly. Visions of him and the vamp kept running through my head, and when I woke up at 6:30, I was groggy and still drained.

Pull yourself together Alexa, I admonished myself. Just keep it together until you get to Costa Rica and then you can let yourself feel as sorry as you like.

Through some careful timing, I managed to avoid seeing him in the morning. I got ready with the bedroom door still locked, and while Scott was in the bathroom taking his shower, I called a cab and left for the airport. It meant having a long wait there but better that than being at home with my cheating husband.

All subsequent calls from Scott were sent straight to voicemail.

He would figure it out soon enough.

When we boarded the plane to Costa Rica, I sank into my seat relieved I could finally let myself go.

The first few days in Costa Rica passed by in a blur of feeling sad and sorry, and I extended my trip by another week, unwilling to face the reality of home life. Then little by little I began to evaluate my life, my own worth and my marriage especially when I became friends with a couple who told me openly they were in an open relationship and were always looking for other couples to swing with. I marvelled at their ability to stay so connected, happy and in love even though they were regularly sleeping with other people.

It made me wonder if I would feel differently about Scott's misadventures if I had some of my own? And that's when I started to work on The Revenge List. By the time the trip ended I had decided that specific changes would need to be made if Scott and I were to stay married.

A Six Pack of Revenge

Ten endlessly long months had slowly crawled by since that fateful encounter with Miss Sex on Heels. My return from Costa Rica had resulted in a massive fight with Scott, and since then we had gone to marriage counselling (his idea), we had talked endlessly, and Scott was nothing but a devoted husband. But nothing seemed to be helping really. I couldn't get myself to trust him and felt a distinct lack of interest in our marriage or in Scott. Instead, I was spending most of my time at the gym or at work. Soon after coming back from Costa Rica a terrible bout of food poisoning kept me in bed for the greater part of a week. I came out of it ten pounds thinner. Seeing what a difference the weight loss made to my self-esteem, I was determined to keep it off and joined the gym. My body now looked almost nothing like my body from a year ago. I was thin, toned, muscular and looked years younger. My new body thrilled me, and I knew I looked hot, but I had no confidence sexually. Scott's transgressions had chipped away at that confidence.

Then one night as I was cleaning out my desk, I came across The List I had worked on in Costa Rica and just like that I knew exactly what it would take for me to get over Scott's betrayals.

The next morning, I handed him the list, neatly titled: The Six Pack Revenge Tour

• Tantric masseur;

• Rick, my ex-boyfriend;

• Sex with an anonymous stranger found online;

• Sex with a colleague at work;

• Brad and Jessie - the two brothers from our gym;

• Jason.

Six bullet points.

Six names and scenarios.

Six sexual fantasies I wanted to be fulfilled.

Setting up a real tit for tat for Scott's betrayals.

It was a pretty self-explanatory list, and Scott didn't bother asking me what it was for, but I clarified nonetheless, "I need you to suffer the way I have. We need to be equals."

He didn't say anything but did raise his eyebrows at the name neatly printed beside the number 6.

I had known he would.

A silent chuckle bubbled in my throat.

His best friend who had definitely checked out my new body on more than one occasion.

It would be the ultimate betrayal to cap off my Six Pack Revenge tour. If Scott were smart, he would learn something from this and hopefully think twice before his penis went sniffing around elsewhere. And if not... I had a feeling Jason would be an exceptional lover.

I met his gaze unflinchingly.

"Any problems?"

"None." Scott replied with a wry smile then couldn't help adding, "I always knew you had the hots for Jason."

"Just like I always knew you had the hots for Tina." I shot back. "You slept with my best friend, I think it's only fair I get to fuck yours."

The word fuck surprised him. I had always been the gentle wife, the sweet wife. Swear words were just not in my vocabulary. At least they weren't pre-Costa Rica. The post-Costa Rica me was going to get plenty of use out of the word fuck.

Revenge #1:

Finding a male masseur who would be up for a little something extra turned out to be surprisingly tricky. But eventually, I managed to get a name from a friend of a friend and an appointment was made for the very next evening. The money for his services was sent via e-transfer right away. Paying for it beforehand made me feel a little less sleazy. Logically I knew there was no reason to feel that way because everything I was doing, I was doing with Scott's blessing.

Unlike him!

Nonetheless, for 29 years I had been a devoted, faithful wife. Never in my wildest dreams had I considered cheating on my husband or sleeping with another man, so I was left feeling a little unsettled. But now that I had embarked on this mission, I was determined to see it through, and the quicker I plunged into it, the less likely I would be to lose my nerve.

The evening of the appointment, I was a nervous wreck and overthinking everything. Half a dozen times I even reached for my phone to cancel the rendezvous, but I stopped myself just in time. Instead of focusing on my worries, I tried to get excited at the idea of being with another man. What would sex be like with someone other than Scott?

I channelled my nervousness into scouring my closet for the perfect outfit. It felt a little like going on a first date. Given my wardrobe revamp, I had dozens of sexy choices. Clothes I would never have dreamed of wearing just a year ago. Fingering the silky materials with their risqué cuts and style, I felt oddly aroused. After a few minutes, I settled on a pair of white short shorts and a fitted black cropped tee.

Casual, sexy, and very easy to shed.

Once I was dressed, I inspected my reflection in admiration. I could hardly believe the tanned, thin, muscular body staring back at me was ME! My breasts lifted and perky (courtesy of weight loss and a push-up bra), my stomach trim and almost flat. I still had some work to do to get gorgeous abs, but it was a far cry from the pouch folds from just five months ago.

The white shorts accentuated my lean, defined legs. I wore no underwear; my pussy was stripped bare and soft as a baby's bottom. I started to get excited at the idea of a stranger running their hands over my new body, and suddenly 6pm couldn't come fast enough!

He was wonderfully punctual, right on 6:00pm, the front bell rang.

A crisp, sharp ring.

Scott opened the door, I was right behind him. The man at the door was tall and hot. Dark skinned and muscular, no other word could describe him better. He was at least fifteen years younger than me.

While my excitement mounted, Scott looked about ready to punch him in the face.

Hah! I wanted to say, see how it feels?

Without a word he left the house, slamming the door behind him, leaving my masseur and me all alone.

Still feeling a little nervous, I gestured him inside silently, and he came in carrying a folding massage table and a bag of accessories.

"Where should I set up?"

His voice was deep and sensual.

"The bedroom upstairs."

He waited for me to go up and followed close at my heels. Knowing his eyes were on me. I added a sway to my hips. It was the boldest thing I had done in a very long time and spoke volumes about my new-found confidence.

It didn't take him long to set up, and within minutes my bedroom was transformed into an oasis of relaxation. Music played softly in the background, the room lit softly with the glow of half a dozen candles. White sheets spread out crisply on the massage table, towels folded neatly at the foot. He had found time to change too and was standing in front of me with only a towel wrapped around his waist.

Anthony handed me a bathrobe.

"You can change into this if you wish."

His eyes raked over my body as he spoke, and I could see he liked what he saw. Feeling sexy and desired, I took another bold step.

"I don't need the robe."

Lifting my arms above my head, I pulled off my t-shirt. I was standing in front of him in my black lacy bra and white shorts.

"You are beautiful," Anthony said softly grazing the swell of my breasts with the palm of his hand. He slipped a finger under a strap and gently pulled it down and did the same with the other side. One more tug and my bra would slide off my breasts completely. I longed for him to do it, but he moved away and motioned for me to lie on the table.

Slipping out of my sandals, I walked over to the table barefoot. There was no graceful way of getting on to the table, and as I debated how I would manage it, Anthony slipped his arms under my knees and around my shoulders. He held me close for just a fraction of a second before easing me on to the massage table.

I turned over and with deft fingers unhooked my bra. He pulled it out from underneath me and threw it on the floor before turning his attention to my shorts. The elastic band slipped down quickly, and moments later I was lying on my stomach, completely naked in front of a total stranger.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Mm mm yes," I breathed out.

"I'm going to place my hands on you now, I want you to take a deep breath and exhale slowly."

"Mmmm mmm..."

His hands were strong and gentle; they started around my shoulders and were soon travelling down to the small of my back and on my butt. Once my body was warmed up, he dripped oil down the length of my body and started to rub it into my skin using only the tips of his fingers. It was unlike any massage I had ever experienced; the more he touched, the more aroused I felt. Every inch of my skin was brought to life and left me wanting more. With a gentle motion, he turned me on my side and lay down next to me on the table. His fingers once more grazed the swell of my breasts, he cupped them in his hands and added a gentle pressure that was more arousing than having my nipples sucked. His hands roamed down the length of my body,

When he got to my waist, he paused for a brief second.

"Please..." I moaned out loud, "don't stop."

He obliged and kept kneading my body in the most erotic ways.

I was so involved in my own pleasure and my own awakening sexuality I hadn't noticed that Anthony was now also fully naked. His fully erect penis made me gasp out loud with shock.

After 32 years of being only with Scott, I'd forgotten that not all penises were alike and this one left me speechless.

Anthony's stood proud and firm, easily eight inches long, if not longer. The girth was equally impressive. I imagined a penis like that plunging into me and shuddered with pleasure.

"Would you like to touch it?"

This was going beyond what we had agreed on...what I had agreed upon with Scott, but I didn't care. A sexual hunger I had never felt before overpowered me. Our eyes met in a silent, mutual understanding and I slowly reached out to take his penis in my hands. I knew it was too late to stop anything from happening.

When Scott came home a couple of hours later I was lying on the bed, utterly spent and utterly relaxed from my massage. I was still completely naked and enjoying every moment of it. The massage freed my sexual inhibitions and left me feeling desired and sexual.

Scott's eyes popped when he saw me lying in that way. And I could see that he was getting turned on by the way he twitched uncomfortably. It gave me a sense of power and control to see him wanting me so much, and it occurred to me he hadn't looked at me with that much lust in a very long time.

Knowing his eyes were glued to my body, I casually brushed my hand against my thighs and started to play with my clit. My nipples hardened at the same time. A guttural groan escaped Scott's lips.

"Oh God, Alexa. I need to fuck you."

Instead of replying I spread my legs a little wider and smiled at him sweetly. He was at my side in seconds, his face buried in my pussy while his hands fondled my breasts and tweaked my nipples. I arched my hips, and his tongue darted inside me. Scott and I hadn't found this much pleasure in each other in years. He moved his head and threw me a questioning look.

"You don't have to tell me but how far did it go with Anthony?"

"Far enough...let's just say I gave him a birthday present he won't soon forgot."

I didn't mention that Anthony had given me the best orgasm of my life just by massaging my clit or that I had let him cum inside my mouth. Some truths were better left unsaid for the moment.

Satisfied with my answer, Scott went back down on me again and proceeded to give me my third orgasm of the day.

Revenge #2:

The opportunity to act on the second name came faster than I thought. Ever since Rick and I had reconnected on Facebook several years back, time and again he had made clear in our message exchanges that he missed the old days and wouldn't mind catching up. The meaning behind his words was clear but being the faithful wife, I was, I never encouraged that train of thought, and eventually, he gave up. But the bunny boiler changed all that. Alone and sad in Costa Rica, Rick was the one person I reached out. Desperate to boost my confidence and feel better about myself I flirted with him.