A Wife's Revenge

"You look like someone who has badness in mind." Said a deep voice close to me and I turned around to find its owner. What I saw was not what I was hoping for. Sure, he was right I had badness in mind, I was about to cheat on my husband for the first time in our seven-year marriage, but it wasn't your clichŽ seven-year itch that made me do it. I had just realized that he had cheated on me at least once, probably more than that. Alessandro, my husband is a computer programmer and his work takes him traveling throughout the country a lot.

I had always trusted him unquestioningly, until that is, I found a pack of unopened condoms in his suitcase and smelled the scent of cheap perfume on his sweater when I was doing the laundry after one of his travels. I cried myself to sleep that night, making sure he didn't notice.

A few days later he was off to yet another city for a conference and I had been calling him all night, only to disappointedly discover his cell phone was off and the night clerk at his hotel had told me he is not in his room at the moment. That moment was very long, in fact it lasted pretty much all night. When he finally answered my call, his speech was blurred and we ended up having a huge argument, after which he hung up on me. He had never done that before and I was stunned.

After another day of crying, I had finally decided that I would do the same to him. I would go out and cheat and feel happy about it. He needn't be aware of what happened, it would be enough if I knew.

And so I found myself in a small, dodgy looking pub, which was hidden in one of the side streets of downtown Chicago, where I normally wouldn't go even during the day. It was Friday night, a good time for 'fishing' as I had called it. I decided against the attire that would immediately announce me to be someone who is trying to get laid. Nonetheless, I wore a beige suede miniskirt and matching shirt with high-heeled boots that I have had for years but hardly ever wore. I'm almost six foot tall and high heels would have made me look like a giant. This particular night, however, I didn't care. I wanted to be noticed and stand out; thinking that being the tallest chick in the place would be a good start.

The problem, as I had seen it, was that I was actually the only woman in a whole establishment. The pub was almost empty. A few older men sat at the corner table, cradling their English-looking pints and a couple of them gave me a second glance, but beyond that, I didn't really arouse any interest.

It was in the dead of winter, cold as hell and I couldn't make myself go back out right away in search of a better suited crowd, so I took off my coat and sat at the bar to have a drink and warm myself up before venturing back into the howling wind of Chicago January.

Just as I took the first sip, I heard the voice, which tried so awkwardly to break the ice. I turned around and was disappointed to find one of the men from the corner table standing next to me. He was a short and pudgy guy, the hair on his head almost gone, the skin on his face and hands pasty, almost transparent. His eyes were small and beady, resembling slits more than anything else, and it had taken me a few minutes to realize that they were gray. He was dressed in a black business suit that seemed too small for his fat body, his stomach especially made the buttons work hard in keeping the fabric together. His tie was now generously loosened and hanging half way down his body. I noticed a wedding band, which was literally imbedded into his ring finger, which like the rest of them gave the appearance of small fat sausages.

This is not who I wanted to break my wows with. The man looked like a car salesman from the fifties. He appeared more like the next-door neighbor than the stud I was aching for.

"Do you give a shit?" I asked. I normally don't talk to people like that, but having already had two generous drinks before I left my apartment, partially to keep me warm, but mostly to give me courage, I had found my inhibitions, which by the way I had always been full of, melting away.

"Oh, I don't know," the man smiled. "I just might." His smile didn't seem to reach his eyes. He was glaring at me and I felt odd.

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the drink I had been cradling. Even though I felt brave and able to say and do whatever I wanted, there was a bit of shyness left in me and I let the man next to me make the next move. Only later did I realize that that was the moment I decided he was the one I'd be with that evening, of course, if he wanted to. By the look on his face, I couldn't have imagined that he didn't.

"Mitch!" the man knocked on the bar. "Give the lady another one!" he said and smiled at me. "A double, please." I was going to protest but thought the better of it. If I was to let this pudgy, sweaty old man fuck me, I'd better be drunk, I thought. Otherwise, I might not be able to go through with it. My own arrogance was shameful, but very soon I didn't care anymore.

"I'm not a hooker, you know." I said, still having enough presence of mind to be too proud and have him mistaken me for a desperate soul.

"That's okay." The man sat on the stool next to me uninvited. "I won't hold that against you."

I burst into a laughter. "You've a lot of balls, you know that."

"Well," he hung his head and laughed to himself. "I always try. You'd be surprised how many times it works."

I was lost for words again. Never considering myself an angel, I had to admit that I was a very good wife, tending to all my husband's needs, sexual and otherwise, never even lusting after another man, let alone fool around. I was afraid I'd say something really disgusting and this man, who made my stomach turn, would be repelled by me and walk away. That would have been a huge blow to my ego, especially because I considered myself better than him.

"I'm Colin, by the way," said the man and after a moment of consideration in which my mind rushed through a panicky mode trying to find a name I would give him, I decided to be truthful. I might as well. I was certain Alessandro told every single woman that he was cheating on me with his real name. I would do the same. "Katrina." I said and extended my hand. Colin's handshake was surprisingly firm. I imagined him to have a fishy squeeze with sweaty palms, but I was wrong.

"Me and the boys," he nodded towards the group in the corner, and it had struck me as funny that he would be referring to a group of forty- and fifty-somethings as boys, "are just about to go to my place and have another drink. You can join us if you want. They'll leave soon, and then maybe we can talk or something." "Or something, yeah." I said and felt myself blush. There was nothing I wanted to talk to this man about, and I had just realized I let him know that I was horny and I wanted to be fucked by a stranger, and he just happened to be the stranger I would fuck.

"Where's your wife?" I asked and pointed to his wedding band.

Very matter of factly he explained that he has a loft downtown that he uses when he's working late, unable or unwilling to drive to his house in the suburbs. "She won't show up, don't worry." He said and I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. In my mind I saw Alessandro telling some other woman that his wife is safely two thousand miles away and she needn't worry about me.

I downed another drink before we left the pub and by that time, I was very unsteady on my feet, although not so drunk as to be unaware of what I was doing. I knew exactly what would happen and I was actually looking forward to it. This would be punishment to Alessandro for his cheating ways and at the same time a punishment to me. This would be a sentence for my stupidity when I blindly believed in my husband. I could feel my pussy swelling up with excitement and I knew I began creaming my thong.

I had no illusion I was in for some great sex. The guy would probably want me to suck his cock (which I decided I wouldn't do), stick a finger or two inside my pussy to check if I was ready and then blow before he managed to slam inside it more than ten times. That was okay, though. It was not for my pleasure, as I had seen it. I would feel ashamed on my way home and I would use it when I was taking a shower, rubbing my clit to a climax, thinking of a pudgy, bold old guy fucking me senseless. I always fantasized of things I would never do, and they usually made me cum the hardest. Now, I had a chance to fulfill one of my fantasies. Fucking a father-like figure, someone twice my age. Someone married. A punishment to myself and all married women who are foolish enough not to notice their husbands' cheating ways.

Colin left the seat next to me to get his coat and whisper something to his friends. It felt quite humiliating. I saw them all steal a glance at me, laugh and pat his back as if he had achieved something of importance. He threw a few bills on the table and leaned into the circle of his friends. Something he said must have been funny to them and they all hollered with laughter, their eyes seeking me out again. I felt cheap.

"Another round for the unruly gang over there," said Colin to the bartender as he helped off the stool and gentlemanly held the coat up for me. I walked into the street first, Colin following and I had a distinct feeling that he was measuring me from top to bottom. Did it make me feel good? I have to admit that at that moment it probably has, although later on I denied it.

"Let's get a cup of coffee, shall we?" he said and without waiting on my agreement entered a small corner cafŽ, which was just about to close, ordering two regular coffees. "Something to sober you up a bit." He said and very quickly added. "And me, of course. I had a couple more than I should." I took the offered coffee cup, ready to sweeten and cream it to taste. "No, no." Colin pulled me towards the door. "It's best to drink it black with no sugar. That way you won't get sick." I raised my eyebrows. "Trust me, it's better like this. It'll cool off quickly. It's cold as hell." We found ourselves back on the street that shone its ice-covered surface off in the blare of the streetlights.

I chastised myself for wearing the boots I was not accustomed to. I felt like an overgrown giant compared to Colin. Now that we were walking side by side, I realized I was at least six inches taller than him, most of my extra height coming from the heels of my boots.

"I live close by, we'll walk." he decided and I wished we took the cab. I appreciated his worry about sobering me up, but I seriously doubted the cold would be successful in that. I had drank too much too quickly. For someone who hardly ever touched any booze, four whiskeys were a lot. I was wrong.

By the time we covered the distance of three city blocks and entered the front door of the obviously costly apartment building, I felt better. I even doubted I was doing the right thing, accompanying a strange man to the place I've never been before. I began worrying that nobody knew where I was. He could have done just about anything to me and no one would know. No one could help me.

Reluctantly I followed him into the elevator, carefully sipping on the still hot coffee, trying hard to ignore the glances of a middle-aged woman who shared the ride with us. She had no shame in measuring me up and down like I was some cheap whore, which I suppose I was at that moment, but I still didn't appreciate her directness. I almost sighed in relief when the elevator stopped on the fifth floor, the woman got out and we continued to the eleventh floor, or at least I presumed that's where we were going as that was the button Colin pushed.

"How old are you?" his voice startled me from the feeling of apathy as I watched the buttons above the floor light and extinguish the higher up we went.

"Thirty-one." I said, my mind too numb to lower the number for two or three years as I normally did.

"You look younger." He said and I felt his eyes measuring me up and down again.

"I feel older." I admitted. I felt detached from the moment, alienated from the situation of allowing myself into an uncompromising position of breaking my marriage wows with a complete stranger. My mind raced, at the same time it seemed to be stuck on that one thing. The stranger. I felt weary but at the same time there was a feeling of exhilaration. I was excited, sure. It felt exactly like when I was a kid and was climbing the neighbor's trees back in rural Maine, stealing fruit despite the fact that our own orchard was bursting with ripeness of its products. It was the danger I enjoyed. The fear seemed like an aphrodisiac to me and for the first time since I heard Colin's voice talking to me in the pub I realized I hadn't thought of Alessandro. He was the reason I was here and he hadn't even crossed my mind. How odd!

"Yes, I can understand that. You're at that awkward age when you're not a kid anymore, but not yet middle-aged and you feel out of sync with everything." He philosophized.

I didn't feel like a conversation. I certainly didn't want him to analyze me like this. As if sensing my discomfort he stopped talking. I kept my eyes on the little numbered lights and remained completely still when I felt his hand find its way between the buttons of my coat, stroking my thigh, raising my miniskirt a bit and rub against my thong. I was very turned on. I wanted to close my eyes and sigh, spread my legs a bit, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Whether he satisfied me or not, I decided I would lay there motionless and speechless, quietly taking anything and everything he was to give me.

The elevator ride seemed to be the longest one I've taken, it went on and on, the cab finally coming to a jolting stop. I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting, but when we entered Colin's apartment, I was astonished. The place was absolutely spotless, shipshape and I had to admit, gorgeous. It looked like something out of a Home Magazine. Not a thing was out of place, no clothes hanging on chairs, which were all dutifully pushed under the table as far as they could go. Plants were in every room of the apartment, even the kitchen and bathroom, walls were decorated with abstract paintings, expensive-looking vases and ashtrays were carefully arranged for the greatest effect. The place was not very big, but every single door in it was wide open and standing in the small hallway, I could see pretty much all of it from one spot.

"My modest home from home." He said and closed the front door behind me.

"Modest my ass!" I couldn't help but comment. It had struck me that the apartment wasn't dark. Discreet lights in the corners of the rooms, behind the big plants, above the stove were on, throwing a dim lighting in small circles. Probably the timers, I concluded. This was the kind of apartment I had always wanted, my mind briefly shooting back to my own cubbyhole as Alessandro called our place, full of expensive furnishings, which never seemed to impress much, overstuffed with his computer equipment and the numerous books on history, which I saved from when still in college, never making good on my education and choosing a life of a housewife rather than a researcher as I had always wanted.

"Well," Colin chuckled, and his smiled looked more like barring of the teeth than a warm approach to me. "I like to impress in everything I do." He took off our coats. "Everything." He whispered and stepped in front of me.

I felt foolish being so much taller than the man I was with. It seemed somehow wrong, awkward. I expected him to hug me, irrationally lulling myself into a romantic mode, which I had no desire for, but still it sprang upon me from seemingly nowhere.

The feeling of awkwardness was intensified when instead of a hug, Colin's hands reached for my breasts and squeezed them hard through the shirt, massaging them too roughly for comfort. "I love beautiful things, as you can see." He looked around the room, his fingers digging into the softness of my body. "And you my dear, are gorgeous." He said and despite myself, I felt flattered. I felt pretty when I was getting dressed for the night out, but somehow, the feeling of beauty dissipated as the night progressed and I realized I was going to betray my expectations by not picking out someone who I would have thought of as being a stud. Rather, I settled for this nondescript, almost ugly little man with a great aesthetic sense.

"Can we have a drink?" I asked.

"Sure we can," he said and pulled on my neck, forcing me to bend down and kiss him. "Afterwards." His tongue felt slick inside my mouth, taste of whiskey and cigarettes unmistakable. He didn't kiss me at all, simply stuck his tongue as far as he could, rolling it around my mouth and to my great distaste I realized his own mouth was full of saliva. It disgusted me, but at that moment I blocked the feeling of discomfort out of my mind.

"We don't have much time." He said and reached under my miniskirt, roughly pawing between my legs. His fingers slipped under my thong and rubbed their way inside my slit. "Aha-ha..." he said, obviously satisfied that I was turned on already. "You're really ready for this, girl!" He hung our coats and carefully placed the coffee cups on the stand in the hallway.

I was stuck for words, or actions. I simply stood there like a dummy, my breasts aching from the previous assault, my pussy vibrating with expectation of what was to come. It had been a long time since I felt this turned on, and I was pissed about it. Yet, I was also looking forward to it. If this goes right, I just might do it again, I thought to myself.

"Come on!" said Colin and taking my hand led me to a bedroom, just as perfect as the rest of the apartment. The lights were on in two corners, one on each side of the headboard of a king-sized bed. Blood red bedcovers looked brand new, matching the curtains and the cushion of a small chair next to the door. Next to the window was a huge desk with a computer that was turned on, sporting the screensaver of waving tentacles in the varying shades of red.

This whole place reeked of a woman's touch. I didn't quite believe that Colin had no help, but then, he seemed to be proving to me that he had money; he could easily have hired a designer and afterwards a maid to keep his apartment as it was. Perfect. For a moment I worried that this was someone else's place and that someone could have walked through the door at any given moment. Colin's familiarity with the apartment, his movements lacking any hesitation convinced me otherwise. Don't judge a book by its cover my mother had told me, and that's exactly what I had been doing, allowing my mind to sail into the shallow waters of arrogance, not see the person for what they really were, just take everything at the face value.

Sex with Colin was also a surprising thing. Yet again I had convinced myself it would be nothing but a shabby, speedy fuck and again, I was wrong. It wasn't something I'd describe as the best lay I had ever had, but it certainly was a very memorable one.

I looked anxiously at Colin when he closed the door to the bedroom. "The boys will be here soon." He said as if trying to calm me down. "You don't want to be interrupted, right?" I seriously doubted we would be going long enough for anyone to barge in. "Or," he opened the door slightly, "maybe you're an exhibitionist." I shook my head, worry probably plastered all over my face. "I thought not." The door firmly closed again I took a deep breath.

What now? I thought, bending over to undo my boots. They were killing me, I could feel a distant ache in my lower back and feet. Picking those boots might have been a sexy thing for an eyes, but it was definitely damaging to my body.