Consequences - Shannon Ch. 01

Consequences-Shannon: The Promise

Story edited by LadyCibelle with my thanks for her many suggestions and comments. The story is better because of them.

Present Time

It was time to go. I had to be home before Stan started to worry. He would expect me by ten at the latest and it was already past nine. I pushed myself up from the bed where we lay together, exhausted by our lovemaking, and looked down on the face of my lover. He was looking back at me, the look of satisfaction lighting his face. We had been at it for the past three hours and I was full of his fluids. I had to clean myself out, wash my face and somehow block the smell of sex without taking a shower. The smell of soap would be a clear signal that I had not been sharing my evening with the three women I told Stan I was going out with on this, my 'ladies night'. I went into the bathroom and began my preparations.

When I was finished I walked out to find Marty just beginning to dress. He was single, almost twelve years younger than me and in no hurry. He had no one waiting, no one to worry about lying to, no one to fear discovery from. He was free to do what he would and he was my lover. For the thousandth time, I asked myself why I was doing this. Marty was fun, he was energetic and imaginative and I enjoyed our time together but I didn't love him. I wasn't very fond of him actually. But I had been meeting him at least once a week for the past three months. Just like this, just for sex.

I didn't speak to him as I gathered up my purse, my shoes and finally my portfolio. I looked at him but just walked over to the door, opened it and left to go home. I considered what I was doing as I walked to my car, but by the time I reached home, I still had no idea of what I was doing, why I was doing it and why I hadn't ended it before this. I'd had this same argument with myself over and over but to no avail. I slammed the door in anger and walked into the house.

I knew something was wrong as soon as I entered. Stan's car was not in the garage where it should be and the house was dark, all the usual lights turned off. I flicked the switch near the door from the garage and the kitchen was flooded with light. I walked into the room, looking around. I stopped by the counter to feel the coffee pot and it was cold and empty. I looked at the wall phone but no lights were lit indicating a message from Stan. There were no dishes in the sink and no sign of dinner. I walked further into the room to look at the dinette where the table and chairs were. As I turned on the light over the table, I spotted something in the place where Stan normally sat. I put my portfolio down on the counter and walked over.

The first thing I saw was the ring. It was lying on top of a folded sheet of paper. I saw immediately that it was Stan's wedding ring and I felt the first thrill of fear. I picked it up and clutched it in the palm of my left hand. With my heart pounding in my breast and a roaring assaulting my ears, I reached for the folded paper, now dreading what I was about to read. It had my name on the outside printed in Stan's unique style. A picture fell out when I picked up the sheet. I was afraid to see what the picture showed so I turned it over hiding it from view. I unfolded the note and read.

Shannon,

I tried to decide what to do once I knew you were cheating on me with Martin Fletcher. Could I confront you and ask you to quit, then try to make things right again? Could I just divorce you and walk away, never looking back? Or should I ignore it, my love for you placed in the background until you decided to return to me? The answer to all of those was no. I could do none of them.

I don't know why you did it. I asked myself what I had done wrong but I honestly couldn't come up with anything. Did I let you down in some way? Did I fail you in some task that was very important to you? Was I not a good enough lover for you? You probably would have told me if I asked, but I didn't have the courage: because I still love you. That's what is killing me inside. I can't divorce you and I can't share you and I don't have the courage to confront you because you may tell me you don't love me anymore. So, I've made a decision. I'm doing what I have to.

I'm leaving you, taking only my clothes and a few things I need. I won't contact you in any way and I won't tell you where I'm going. I'm not filing for divorce so if you want one, it's up to you. In the safe deposit box I've left a power of attorney that will allow you to dispose of all of our possessions in any way you see fit. It gives you full control. I've taken none of our savings or checking so with your income, there is enough to see you through.

In a year, I will make contact with you. You can tell me then what you want to do or what you've already done. The choice is yours. In the interim, you decide how you want to live and whether I have a place in your life. If I do, it must be as I always thought it was before I found out about your infidelity. I can not and will not share you with another man or men.

I left you my ring as a sign of my faithfulness during our marriage. It is whole and unbroken, as is the promise I made to you on our wedding day. The wedding ring I gave you, I ask you to destroy. It no longer holds the promise you made to me and it can never be pure again.

Stan.

I sat down hard on the chair, my legs refusing to hold me, my heart pounding in my chest and the tears pouring from my eyes. He was gone! He knew and he walked out and left me! He was out of my life for at least the next year and I didn't know how I could live without him. Stupid thought now that I had driven him away. Driven him away with my stupidity and my selfishness. And for what? For what? Not a damn thing that meant anything at all! Just for a cheap thrill. The thrill of youth? The need for someone my own age? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

In the brightness of the fluorescent lights blazing overhead, I turned the picture over to show its message. It was a picture of me, on my hands and knees, my eyes squeezed shut while behind me Marty was driving himself into me. We were both naked on the bed upstairs. Our bedroom! Mine and Stan's. I had fouled it forever in his eyes and now in mine. I knew then that I would never sleep in that bed again. Never! I wondered how long Stan had known and if he had slept there knowing what I did. I prayed at that moment to a God that I had forsaken with my adultery that Stan never knew. To give me that blessing at least. But I expected no answer! When I promised Stan, in front of Him that I would be faithful, I had lied. He knew of my betrayal to my husband and to Him!

Three Month Earlier

Stan and I were celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary with a beautiful dinner party at Stetson's Chop House, a four star restaurant in the downtown Chicago Hyatt Regency Hotel where he also had a room reserved for afterwards. We invited some of our closest friends including Martin Fletcher, the agent that both Stan and I used; Art and Janet Williams, owners and operators of an art gallery where some of Stan's more important works were housed; Pete and Lois Archer, close personal friends of Stan and I. We all were close and had been for most of our marriage.

Stan was an artist like me, very highly respected, but Stan worked with paints, doing mainly portraits of famous people, commissioned works for those with money and some of his own impressions that he would sell at the Williams Gallery. I was a photographer, more commercial, doing photography for hire: weddings, bar mitzvahs, parties, personal sittings and other more mundane things. All paid well since I was also well known and always in demand. Money was never a problem for Stan and I and we lived well.

I had just turned forty my last birthday and Stan was fifty four. We were married when I was thirty three. I had no intentions of getting married ever until I met Stan Mallard. I had gone to one of his showing and we met there. I was mesmerized by him and by his talent. I couldn't get enough of him and I monopolized his time that evening until I believe he finally invited me to dinner the next night just to get rid of me. We found we shared so many things and I found myself falling in love with him. It took him longer to realize that he loved me and even longer to believe I was willing to share my life and my work with him. We were together for almost two years before he proposed.

We married and things were perfect. Neither of us wanted children and we both loved to travel and party. We had a large circle of friends and we were never alone. I continued to work at what I did best and Stan took on more well paying jobs until we felt we had enough stashed away to allow us to become more selective. We enjoyed that even more. We were a contented couple but as we both got older, I guess things began to change.

Stan began to turn down party invitations that I would have loved to attend. I was less and less content to spend our evenings at home, alone with each other. Our love life had always been satisfying but I began to yearn for more variety as my sexual needs changed as I matured. Stan began to want sex less, always willing when I indicated I had a need but initiating less and less. We still satisfied each other completely but the originality and lust was gone, replaced by a familiar contentment. I never thought much about it until that anniversary party.

We had moved into the lounge following dinner and there was music and dancing.

Martin Fletcher was there and he was drinking rather more than usual. As the evening progressed, Martin was more and more at my side, talking and laughing and in general making me laugh. Stan didn't notice, spending his time mainly with the Williams. As we were dancing, Marty kissed me, his lips pressing against mine, his mouth opening slightly and his tongue lightly running back and forth against my lips. I had enough to drink to let my mouth open slightly, enough to allow his tongue to enter. As his tongue entered my mouth, I felt a surge of lust that had my pulse soaring and a warmth spreading between my legs. I was shocked at the feeling but didn't pull back immediately. I let it grow until I finally backed away, looking for Stan, guilt pounding at me.

As we stood apart, neither Marty or I said anything, looked at anything but each other and finally wandered off in different directions. I avoided being with him the rest of the evening but each time I looked over at him, I found his eyes waiting. The lust that I felt during our kiss hadn't subsided at all and each time I looked into his eyes, it scratched to be let out. I finally found Stan and asked him if we could leave. He was concerned and wanted to know if I was alright. I just told him I wanted to take him up to the room and give him his anniversary present. He smiled and told me he would make our excuses to our friends. When we left, I glanced back to see Marty watching me.

I made love with my husband that night with a passion I hadn't felt for some time. I wondered as I mounted him and felt him slide inside me if what I felt was passion for my husband or lust for someone else. As I began to ride Stan, the feelings of lust grew, my climax approached. The intensity of my orgasm shocked me as I came, squeezing Stan between my legs until he uttered an oath of surprise. My orgasm triggered his and we both came with a violence we had not experienced since our first years together. It was only the first as I began immediately working on Stan to bring him back to life. He surprised me by actually getting hard with my mouth on him and then he took control, pulling me up and turning me over to push inside me from behind. I grabbed the sheets and held on as he plunged into me, his hips driving him deeper inside me than I could ever remember. I loved it and I began pushing back to meet his thrusts. He had stamina now and I had orgasm after orgasm before he finally came.

As we lay there, recovering from our bout of lovemaking, Stan leaned over me to ask,

"What was that all about? I've never seen you so eager. I liked it but I don't know that I can do that very often. It was something else."

I looked into his eyes and for a moment, I wanted to tell him that I was aroused by the actions of another man: that he woke a feeling of lust in me that I hadn't felt for some time. That that was what I was feeling when I did those things. But I knew he would never understand. No wife could ever say things like that to her husband. Not and stay married! I decided to lie of course.

"I was just thinking about how much I love you and how I love our life together. And this is our anniversary. Time to show you how much I do love you. Didn't you like it?"

"Of course. I just think that it may be our next anniversary before I recover enough to do it again. Just plain old vanilla sex for me for a while."

He smiled to show he was just kidding but I wondered. As I got ready for bed my mind wandered back to that kiss and the way Marty looked at me. I fell asleep thinking of his tongue in my mouth, sliding between my lips, once, twice. . . .

Stan woke me the following morning, telling me to get ready for breakfast and then to a meeting with Martin. We both shared the same agent and had for some time. Stan wanted to begin to slow down while I still wanted to do more. Stan was famous, known around the art world. People talked about owning a 'Mallard'. While I was well know around the area, I was local while he was world wide. I had no desire to become known around the world but I would like to do something special. That was the subject of our meeting. It was strained at first between Martin and I but that soon passed and our meeting became more typical.

We finished and caught a cab home. We planned to spend the weekend at home but Martin had scheduled a meeting with a very wealthy man in England that wanted to commission a work from Stan. Stan finally agreed to fly over that Monday to meet with him. I chose to stay home since I had a job scheduled for a wedding. It was a big affair and I would be the primary photographer. It was a plum job and I had accepted some time ago.

Sunday afternoon Stan was playing golf while I worked in my darkroom. The phone rang and I answered to find Martin on the other end. "Shannon?"

"Hi Marty. What's up?"

"I've been thinking about you ever since the party. I can't get you out of my mind. I want to see you."

I was caught by surprise. While I had also been thinking about him and the kiss at the party, I had done only that. I never expected he would want to go further.

"I don't think that's a good idea Marty. I'm married and it wouldn't be appropriate for me to see you without my husband present."

"Shannon please: I need to see you. Meet me at my place. Please, Shannon. I know you felt what I did. I know it! Meet me."

"Marty I can't! Stan is due home anytime. I can't leave now. He's expecting me to be here when he comes home."

"Then when?"

Without thinking, without my brain doing any censoring, I responded, "Monday afternoon. Remember? Stan is flying to England Monday morning. I'll meet you then."

"Good. I'll be waiting."

Before I could change my mind, he hung up. I did the same then sat there in my darkroom trying to understand what I was doing. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it, but at the same time, my conscience was screaming at me that this was wrong! I fought with myself the rest of the afternoon until Stan came home. He was tired from playing eighteen holes and he wanted to take a nap before dinner. I watched him go upstairs. I knew he would be too tired to make love tonight and that he would be gone for two or three more days before he would be back. Then he would be exhausted from the trip and we wouldn't make love before the weekend. In that instant, I made up my mind that I needed to see Marty.

Monday afternoon, I stood outside Marty's apartment. I stared at the door and changed my mind ten times before finally knocking. When he answered, the flashback to that night with him answered all my questions. I was in his arms, naked and aroused before I even began to question what I was doing. Then it was too late. Marty took my nipple in his mouth and began to lightly bite, bringing me to a state of arousal that was so intense I almost came immediately. But before I could get my breath, he pushed me back against the bed and I sat down with my legs spread and Marty's mouth doing things that I could only experience. I know I came multiple times before he finally pushed me back, my feet still on the floor and entered me while he was still standing. I looked up in surprise to see him pushing inside me while looking down on me from above.

That was the first time but not the last time that afternoon. Marty fucked me three times, each time in a different position. Standing, from behind and in missionary. Each was wonderful and each was perfect. I gave him a blow job between the second and third times and he went down on me after each time. It was bizarre and it was dirty and it was wonderful! I couldn't get enough but I finally had to stop. I had to get home for Stan's planned call. Marty and I showered, our hands doing more than washing each other but neither of us could do anything more than caress the other. I dressed and left, but not before making plans to meet again soon.

That was the beginning of our affair and it continued for the next three months. I told Stan that some girls I knew wanted to begin a girls night out and he thought it was a good thing for me. I scheduled it once a week for Thursday nights. The sex was wonderful, imaginative and wild. It was intense and since Marty was even younger than I, it was often several hours before either of us wanted to slow down. It continued until that evening when I came home to find Stan gone.

Even now, months later I still don't know how Stan found out. I couldn't remember any evidence that he knew. Nothing changed in our life together and I never refused sex when Stan was in the mood. I continued to initiate it and I continued to enjoy making love with him. It was sweet, satisfying and filled with love.

But he did know and he did leave me. Now all I could do was exactly what he asked me to do. Think about what I wanted and how he fit into my life. I had done nothing else since he left but work and think. I hadn't talked to Marty once since then and I had no intention of ever doing so again. But that wasn't even important. Marty wasn't important. That I discovered in the first five minutes after I knew Stan had left me.

All I knew was that I had nine months left before Stan came home. Nine months! Two hundred and seventy four days, two hundred and seventy five nights, thirty nine weeks and one day. Then he would come home. But what if he found someone else while he was gone? What if he fell in love with them and out of love with me? How would I go on without him? I knew already what I wanted, what I needed in my life and where Stan fit. I knew but he wasn't here to tell. He didn't know how much I needed him.

Oh God! What have I done?