Estuary Ch. 04

Estuary: (n) - that part of the mouth or lower course of a river in which the river's current meets the sea's tide.

He was sure of only two things. The first was that the sun wasn't up yet. The second was that he'd had too much to drink, way too much to drink. While his head felt like it was besieged by angry jackhammers, it was the brewing turbulence in his gut that had roused him. His stomach felt like he'd chugged several quarts of sour milk with a chaser of rotten eggs. His mouth tasted like death and tequila. Sober was still a long way off, but at least he was in bed. To some extent, he even remembered getting there with the help of his wife and her friends. While the prospect of moving wasn't at all inviting, it quickly became a necessity. Sluggishly Carlton drug himself from bed, stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, and prepared to worship at the porcelain alter of hindsight and regret. The contents of his stomach unceremoniously evacuated, he sprawled on the bathroom rug. It was a far cry from comfortable, but laying on it, preferably very still, seemed like a really good idea at the time.

The room was still a rapidly spinning blur. Six? Maybe seven. He couldn't remember how many Sunrises he'd downed. The tequila, orange juice, and grenadine concoction was his drink of choice on their weekend excursions. Every Saturday night, he and his wife Bethany would meet their friends at their favorite nightclub to blow off steam, play pool, and have a few drinks. He would hang out with the usual suspects, primarily work friends and old college buddies, while Bethany would dance with the other wives and girlfriends. This was their ritual, though it usually didn't culminate with him being carried upstairs and put to bed. He rarely drank so much. If he was lucky, his wife and the others would attribute his excess to just another bad week at the office. He managed his father's real estate agency, and the market's instability had taken its toll. In truth, it had been a bad week for the company, but Carlton had other things on his mind. His thoughts moved back...

*** Three Weeks Prior ***

Bethany was spending the weekend away, attending a conference on scholastic administration. So that Friday night, a time typically reserved for "date night" when their schedules allowed, he was alone. Of their many comfortable routines, it was actually Carlton's favorite. The demands of their respective careers left both exhausted and with little spare time during the week, so when they were able to find time for each other, it often felt a lot like catching up with an old friend whose absence you'd subtly grown accustomed to. In her absence, Carlton found himself irritable and disconnected. The highlight of the night thus far had been a several hour phone call from his wife, mostly spent discussing what she was experiencing at the conference. Carlton was a good sport about it. He respected Bethany's work, but the gory details of several seminars regarding academic logistics had bored him to tears. He was almost thankful when Bethany received another call and wished him goodnight.

It was well past eleven and Carlton was still restless, perhaps even more so than before the call. He tried to compensate for this with productivity, but Carmen, their maid, had visited the day before and the townhouse was in perfect order. That failed, he turned to television, and after several hours of aimless channel surfing punctuated by a few halfhearted attempts to read, Carlton put himself to bed. That was, after all, where date night typically wrapped up. Briefly, he had delved into his porn collection to help alleviate that particular frustration. Carlton flipped through the DVDs with the same vacant expression he usually donned while indecisively confronting the menu in line at McDonalds. Nothing appealed to his appetite, but he still wanted something. It was only after thoroughly exhausting the prospects of their collection, and it was theirs as his wife shared his proclivity for Sapphic erotica, that he decided to bend the rules.

Bethany and Carlton lived in what could be described as an affluent, upper middle class townhouse community. Nestled near the heart of the city, where space came at a premium, it wasn't their ideal home, but it was incredibly convenient and, because the community was owned by Carlton's company, it was also unrealistically affordable. Apart from the conjoined units, there was a separate building which, among other amenities, provided residents access to an indoor pool and a hot tub. Officially, the "clubhouse" closed at eleven, but Carlton didn't feel that this particular rule applied to him, especially when it was the only thing between him and a long, soothing soak in the hot tub.

The hot tub was located in a small alcove adjoining the spacious, chlorine scented pool room. The walls of the chamber were lined with windows, but their deep tinting ensured that the hot tub's internal lights would pass unnoticed by any unexpected observers. Armed with a fresh bottle of Merlot, Carlton slipped gingerly into the water, turned on his IPod and basked in the glory of it all. His tension seemed to melt away under the massaging caress of the jets. The wine wasn't hurting either.

"And I don't know how you do it," Carlton belted, comically off tune. "Making lo-ove... out of nothing at all! Making looooove!" Between the volume of the IPod, the churning of the jets, and his general state of distraction, Carlton was completely oblivious to the woman chuckling at his expense. It took a splash in the face to awaken him to her presence. Carlton startled into awareness, flushing embarrassed and with a mouth full of water. "What the!?"

The slender, robe clad woman before him was named Melissa. She and her husband, Avery, lived in the unit two doors down. They'd moved in only a few months after Carlton and Bethany had. In the years since, they'd fallen into the superficial pseudo-friendship that was born of annual community events and the occasional barbeque or birthday party. Bethany was far more into those kinds of things than Carlton, who, for the life of him, couldn't even remember her last name. She was younger than him, he in his early thirties and she in the final days of her twenties. Carlton, who regularly made such judgments, had never quite decided if she was pretty or not. Waist length chestnut hair framed brilliantly green eyes and a long, narrow face that, while not unattractive, defied his normal criteria for beauty. Bethany had described her as "interesting looking", and Carlton was inclined to agree.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, sitting on the tub's rim, and dipping her feet in before Carlton could answer.

"The clubhouse is closed," he blurted dumbly. She was grinning at him coyly, ankles submerged, long, smooth legs flowing from the hem of her

robe.

"I won't tell if you won't," she winked, splashing him again with her feet. "Want some? Trade you for a few sips," she asked, drawing a hand-rolled cigarette and a lighter. From her first puff, the pungent aroma of marijuana filled the alcove. Carlton found himself relating to some unfortunate herd animal inauspiciously crossing train tracks. She offered the joint, and he took it, inhaling deeply. It wasn't like he'd never done it before. Several of Bethany's friends, most notably Scott and Eliza, were regular users who enjoyed sharing their vices. Melissa leaned past him, took the bottle of Merlot, downed several gulps, and returning it pushed the button to reengage the bubbles. In that instant, his eyes had been drawn to the robe's lose collar, and the hint of supple flesh below. Smoke billowed from Carlton in hacking coughs. He wasn't positive, but he felt fairly confident that there was nothing between her and the robe. "Whoa," she chuckled, retrieving the joint, "Take it easy, Carlton. No need to kill yourself. Hey, where's Bethany?"

"Business... trip..." he answered between gasps. "Avery?"

"In bed. I wore him out," she said, winking mischievously.

"You... ummm... come here after hours a lot?" Carlton asked, awkwardly. Abruptly he was thankful for the bubbles. Between his stolen glimpse, her shapely legs, now glistening with the ambient moisture, and the illicit images conjured by her previous statement, Carlton was sporting a raging erection that would have been difficult to hide even with his trunks.

Melissa shrugged, blowing rings of smoke. "You don't expect me to tattle on myself, do you?" she asked, again leaning forward to offer Carlton the joint. He took it and, before he could stop himself, his eyes drifted back to her chest, exploring the soft contours that slipped tantalizingly into shadows. Suddenly conscious of her eyes upon him, he looked up into a crooked grin. There was no way she could have failed to notice the direction of his attention. He'd been so obvious. Casually, she sat back, saying, "So, you never answered me, ya know."

"Huh?"

"Do you mind if I join you?" she repeated, accepting the joint and taking another deep drag.

A mellow haze had settled over Carlton, the intoxicants working in choreographed tandem. Despite the mellow haze that hung over him, Carlton's pulse raced. The implications of her questions provoked his hardness to throb with wanton approval. Apparently he was still thinking clearly, at least below the waist. On some level, he realized that he stood at a dangerous precipice, that something pivotal hung in the balance during that moment between question and answer. For whatever reason, Carlton nodded, and Melissa passed the joint back to him, "Hold this."

Standing, Melissa turned her back to Carlton to face a nearby wicker chair. He watched her, unblinking and breath baited, as the robe fell slack, the ties falling limply to her sides. With deliberate hesitance, Melissa shrugged off the shoulders, allowing the robe to fall until caught by her elbows, only inches above her waist. Her long hair fell unobstructed down her naked back. His suspicion had been correct. Carton unintentionally gasped, slipping a hand below the water to adjust his growing discomfort, a contact which lingered even after its initial purpose had been met. Melissa lowered her arms, allowing the terrycloth to fall in a clump around her feet. She crouched then, retrieving a battered pack of Marlboros and her lighter from the robe before laying it neatly across the wicker seat. Carlton's hand clutched himself, eyes focused on her heart shaped bottom.

Melissa turned to face him, completely devoid of modesty. She had a dancer's body. Her breasts, moderately smaller than his wife's, were well proportioned with large nipples. Her stomach was smooth and flat, and no hair obstructed his view below it. She stood there a moment, arms at her sides. "It's okay to look," she said, somewhat amused by Carlton's valiant attempt to keep his gaze leveled on hers. "Go on," she encouraged. "I like for people to look." Hesitantly, Carlton complied, his eyes becoming the envy of his flesh as they explored every taboo curve of her body. His hand, still beneath the water and obscured by the frothing bubbles, slid into his trunks.

After allowing several moments for Carlton to simultaneously slake and awaken his curiosity, she slid into the tub opposite him. Finally resting in so that her breasts settled at the level of the water, she reached out for the joint that had gone neglected as a consequence of her disrobing. "I danced my way through college," she said, casually blowing the ashes from the smoldering tip of the joint. Carlton was still silent, somewhat dumbstruck by Melissa's utter lack of inhibition. "Boobies got your tongue?"

Carlton blinked. He'd caught the words "boobies" and "tongue", but not the context. "What?"

"Shotgun?" She answered, sliding towards his side of the tub. Awkwardly, he released himself, unsure of what was happening until she was practically on him. Turning the joint so that the cherry was inside her pursed lips, she leaned forward as though to kiss him. Below the water, she rested a hand high on his thigh for leverage, causing him to gasp. Melissa responded to this by blowing a cloud of intoxicative smoke into his mouth. For an instant, the smoke gathered between them, until Carlton inhaled so deeply his lungs felt as though they might burst. Melissa leaned back, her face drifting through, and haloed by, the rippling haze. The whole room seemed somehow more vivid, comprised of textures and depths Carlton hadn't noticed before, and Melissa, rivulets of water snaking their way down her exposed chest, was at the center of it all.

"I am so high." The words had come unheeded.

Melissa reached past him again, bare breasts inches from his face, to fetch the Merlot and reset the jets and bubbles. "It's good stuff," she said, taking a chug and offering him the bottle, which he took and finished. "Now it's your turn," she continued, returning to opposite side of the tub.

"My turn?"

"I showed you. Now, I want to see," she answered, slumping in her seat. "C'mon! It's only fair. Don't be shy."

It took Carlton a moment to realize what she wanted. Carlton had been a football player in high school, and though he hadn't kept up with himself as well as he might have, he wasn't ashamed of his body. But the prospect of showing Melissa exactly where he stood just then brought a flush of color to his ears and cheeks. As of now, he could still cling to some measure of innocence. He hadn't invited her here, and he certainly hadn't asked her to strip for him. He hadn't actually done anything, and they were both married, for Christ's sake. Nonetheless, he found himself standing, his erection both full and unmistakable.

Melissa whistled appreciatively, her eyes focused on Carlton's arousal. "Let me see." Carlton slid his thumbs into the waistband, and stretching it to accommodate his aching shaft, let them fall down, where they vanished amid the churning bubbles. He could practically feel her eyes caressing him. "Touch it," she asked.

Carlton wrapped a fist around the head of his swollen cock and slid it slowly down to the base. He was more aroused than he'd been in years. Slowly, Melissa raised herself to sit on the ledge, spread her legs, and sliding a hand between, parted her lips. At once, Carlton's mind was flooded with fantasies of ramming himself into her with wanton abandon. He imagined the tightness of her clenching around him, and the feel of her body grinding against him. Almost subconsciously, he continued stroking himself as Melissa slid a finger inside that coveted place, withdrew it, and began to massage her clitoral hood. Tremors of pleasure danced across his senses as he watched her fingers work furiously. With each soft moan Melissa sighed, Carlton stroked harder. He was going to cum soon. Melissa beat him to it, body convulsing with ecstasy, her climactic groan echoed across the otherwise abandoned pool room.

Panting, she slipped back into the water and advanced on him, stopping just short of his trembling hand. While Carlton stood in the shallow, Melissa remained in the deeper portion of the tub. Carlton was stroking himself inches from her face. He stared down at her, the need to cum now more important than anything else, and did nothing to stop her as she wrapped her hand around his and joined its stroking. Precum leaked freely from him, lubricating their hands, as his hips rocked into the motion. Then without warning, she took him, her mouth closing around and taking the full length of him. Both of his hands moved to the back of her head, holding it stationary as he fucked her mouth. She moaned with delight at each thrust, humming and swallowing around him until Carlton achieved a climax that left his legs and stomach tensed to the verge of cramping. Melissa didn't shy away, taking each reflexive trust that discharged his release almost greedily.

Carlton practically collapsed, stumbling back into the seat. His chest was heaving and his entire body was ringing like a bell. With a casual grace that would have normally shocked Carlton, Melissa fell into the submersed seat next to him, reached for her pack of cigarettes, and withdrew another joint. Carlton watched her in a daze, the gravity of the situation not yet penetrating the dense fog of his inebriation. Melissa sparked the joint and took several rapid puffs, the cherry blazing a radiant orange-red. With the same crooked grin from earlier,

she offered it to Carlton. "I blew you, now return the favor."

"Wait. What?" Carlton asked for what felt like the hundredth time since Melissa's arrival.

"A shotgun. Blow me one," she answered. Reality was just finally beginning to impinge on Carlton. He'd just let another man's wife suck him off. What the fuck was he thinking? That was the problem, he wasn't thinking. If Bethany ever found out... "Hello?" Melissa asked, apparently amused by the length it was taking him to respond. "Did I wear you out, too?"

Carlton shifted, abruptly uncomfortable, "I think I should probably go,"

"Why?" she asked so genuinely that Carlton could only stare incredulously.

"I'm married."

"So am I," she replied, around another drag. "What's that got to do with..."

"I love my... ," Carlton began, the pangs of impending guilt suddenly seeming far more compelling than any previous carnal need. He could lose his wife, his entire life could be ruined, all for what? A blowjob?

"Your wife?" Melissa interrupted, "I'm sure you do. Bethany's great, smart and pretty hot, but what does that have to do with me sucking your cock?"

"I love... ," he tried again.

"Love has nothing to do with fucking, Carl. You obviously jerk off. Is that love?" Melissa spoke as though intimately familiar with this argument. "People like to fuck. It feels good."

"It's cheating," Carlton rebounded, now surprisingly angry.

"No, having feelings for someone else is cheating. Using you instead of a vibrator isn't." Turning to face him, she trust a leg across his lap and straddled him. "Do you want to fuck me?" He grabbed her, intending to cast her off, but the sensation of her lips pressed against his semi-flaccid cock gave him involuntary pause. One of her hands held the joint, the other rested on his shoulder even as his tightened their grip in a mixture of self-deprecation and frustration. He said nothing. "We both know you do," Melissa continued, "I know I want you to, so why

not?"

"What about your husband?" Carlton asked. It was desperate, but he could summon no better rejoinder.

"Like I said before, I won't tell if you won't," she answered with cavalier aplomb. "Besides, he has bullshit hang-ups, too. He loves to watch porn and then fuck. What do you think he's thinking about while he's humping away? I'll tell you. Briana Banks. Jenna Jameson. Certainly not me. Isn't that just as bad? At least I have the courtesy to be actually fucking other people when I'm thinking about them."

What about my wife, he almost asked, but the words fell dead long before reaching his lips. Wrong as it was, wrong as he wanted her to be, there was some degree of truth in Melissa's words. Carlton had met Bethany in high school and they had married shortly after finishing college. However, during the interval between, Bethany had befriended a sexually adventurous girl named Eliza. Carlton had never cared for her, but she and Bethany became best and lasting friends. As a consequence of their friendship, Bethany became curious about experimenting with other women. She'd never openly suggested acting on it, though there had been the occasional subtle, probing hints. She had, however, developed a taste for lesbian pornography and on numerous occasions, she'd come to his bed ravenous after one of their late night phone marathons or evening on the dance floor. Perhaps he'd never thought about it before, or more likely he'd chosen not to, but as he listened to Melissa's words, everything seemed to fall into place.