Getting Even - Pt. 03

Lots of people are the victims of cheaters. It's a common problem. Dan Caruso had a unique reaction when he learned his wife Lois was having sex with her boss. You might be amused by the story. All characters are adults over the age of 21.

___________________________________

Over the next several days I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to do next. Relationship experts say that people who get out of bad relationships should take some time to heal before starting something new. They say that the emotional trauma of a bad break-up is likely to ruin new relationships.

I understand the logic, but I honestly doubt that it applies to me. I didn't feel the slightest bit traumatized. My main feeling was relief. I'd known for a while that something was wrong with my marriage; I thought I was blessed to get such a quick, clean ending. I got some pleasure from thinking about the way Joe and Lois got in so much trouble for their bad behavior, but I didn't dwell on it. I felt I was ready to start dating again, and I did a little research on different dating apps to see which ones I might try.

A friend of mine later told me that Lois got a job as a waitress. She apparently tried to find a new job as a secretary, but nobody was interested in hiring a woman who'd had an affair with her boss. Nobody wanted to hire a woman who'd appeared on porn sites. My friend said the other waitresses and waiters were convinced that the only reason Lois got hired was because she agreed to have sex with the restaurant owner. I don't know or care. I can't express the enormity of the damn I do not give.

I wondered what happened to Joe, but never heard anything. That changed a few weeks later when I got a call from Frida.

"This is a pleasant surprise," I said. "It's nice to hear your voice, Frida."

"It's nice to talk to you again, Dan," she said. "I was wondering if you got the news about Joe."

"Nope. I heard about Lois, but I've heard nothing about Joe. Do you know what happened to that jerk?"

"I do indeed, and I'd love to tell you all about it," she said. "Can we get together? You could tell me about Lois, and I could tell you about Joe."

"Sure," I said. "I can meet you at your office anytime you want," I said.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to meet you somewhere else this time," she said. "This is a conversation I'd rather have outside the workplace."

"Fine. Wherever you want," I said. We arranged to meet at a coffee shop midway between my office and hers.

I thought she looked particularly nice when I saw her. Frida is a very attractive woman, and she looked a bit happier than in the past. She seemed to be more relaxed. Maybe it was because she'd had some time to get used to being free of Joe. Maybe it was easier for her to relax at a coffee shop, away from the stresses of her job at the law firm. Maybe it was a bit of both.

"I'm dying to hear about Lois," she said. I told her about Lois failing to find another secretary job, and advised her to avoid the restaurant where she worked as a waitress. Then she explained what happened to Joe.

After he was fired, Joe apparently thought his experience in top executive positions would make it easy for him to find another one. He learned quickly that nobody wants to hire executives who have sex with subordinates, especially when it's documented online. There's too much liability there. He figured his accounting degree would land him a job somewhere, but even that was a risk prospective employers wouldn't take.

He finally got a job as a... wait for it... tax preparer. You read that right. Joe works in a store front where random customers walk in off the street and have him fill out tax forms for them. But there's a hitch!

The company wouldn't hire him as a regular employee because they were afraid they'd be held liable if he misbehaved again. Instead, they made him a freelance consultant. That means he has no benefits. No job security. No paid holidays. No vacation. No company car, or expense account, or retirement plan. No chance for promotions. Nothing but a job where he has to work for every dollar he earns.

"That's a huge step down for him," I said.

"Yes, it is. He enjoyed a lot of status as a chief financial officer. He must be suffering," Frida said.

"For some reason, I don't feel the least bit sympathetic," I said.

Frida smiled. "Neither do I."

I thought that was why Frida wanted to talk. After we chatted for a few more minutes I thought it was time for me to excuse myself. After all, she's a bigshot lawyer. She charges a lot of money for an hour of her time. I was just getting ready to say goodbye when she surprised me.

"Dan, that's not the main reason I wanted to talk with you.

"I've been thinking about something you said the first time we met. I can't stop thinking about it, actually. I'm sure you remember when you told me that you tried to be a good husband to Lois even though you would have preferred being married to a very different type of woman. Do you remember what you said?" Frida asked.

"I believe I said I would have preferred a wife who wanted to be treated like a princess," I said.

"You have a good memory. I remember that very clearly. I remember it because it reminds me of my parents. My father calls my mother 'princess,' and that's how he has always treated her. He is unfailingly kind, and gentle, and attentive. My mother loves him more than life itself. So do I. He's the best man I've ever known.

"My father is a genuine alpha male, not an imposter. My mother has always known she can depend upon him. I told you already that part of the reason I married Joe is that I'm attracted to alpha males, and he fooled me into thinking he was one. It was bitterly disappointing to learn I was wrong about him.

"Being married to Joe was like being in prison. We lived in a house that's much bigger and fancier than we ever needed, but Joe insisted we get it because he needed it as a status symbol. I just hate living there. I'm going to sell that monstrosity as soon as I can find someone who wants to live in a castle.

"I've been trapped in that castle for years. In very real ways, I was that princess being held captive by an evil dragon who kept me locked away in a castle.

"This morning I had the strangest dream. I dreamed I was the princess in the fairy tale, and Joe was the dragon. Then a knight came along, slayed Joe, and gave me my freedom. When I saw my hero's face, it was you. I jerked awake and realized I had to talk to you. Today."

It was easy to see where this conversation was going. I was shocked and flattered at the same time. Frida is an amazing woman. Beautiful. Fiercely intelligent. Determined. But I had not realized she felt attracted to me. I suddenly noticed that her right hand was poised in the middle of the table, next to my hand. She wanted me to take her hand. She didn't say that; she wanted me to figure it out on my own.

"Dan, this is hard to say out loud. I don't know a way to say it without just coming out and saying it," she said.

"Stop," I said, taking Frida's hand. "You don't have to say anything. I know you are about to ask me a question, but you don't have to. The answer is yes. Nothing would please me more than the honor of treating you like my princess."

Everything about Frida's disposition changed in a nanosecond. It was as if I'd pushed a button and turned her into a different kind of person. She'd always put out a vibe that projected power, intelligence, and determination. All that changed. She became demure. Feminine. Coy. Most people are complicated; it was clear that there were sides to Frida's personality I'd never seen. I was anxious to know more about this aspect of Frida.

We chatted for a long time. I asked questions, then listened carefully to her answers. In my experience, women long for their men to listen to them. So I listened. And listened. I let her do almost all the talking and I did almost all the listening.

She said a lot of interesting things that afternoon. I was particularly interested when she said I was the same kind of alpha male as her father. Confident, but not arrogant. Determined, but not aggressive. I can never tell you how deeply flattered I was to hear Frida compare me to the man she loved more than any other.

Was this a date? I hadn't thought Frida was inviting me on a date when she asked to meet for coffee. It seemed to have turned into our first date. I've never enjoyed a first date more. As the minutes went by, and I listened to Frida talk, I realized something important about her.

This is a very lonely woman, I thought to myself. Frida hasn't felt the kind of love she needs for a long, long time. She's letting me know how much she needs male companionship - alpha male companionship.

When I was with Lois, I acted like a brute because that was the kind of man she wanted me to be. Since I was a boy, I've always felt that it's the duty of all men to take care of their women, and that's what I've always tried to do. I've been fortunate. Several wonderful women have let me take care of them, and I think I've done a pretty good job with all of them. Even Lois.

Treating women the way they need to be treated is a man's highest calling. Suddenly, I realized that Frida was giving me something extraordinarily valuable. She gave me a new purpose.

We talked some more, then it seemed that we'd been talking long enough. It was time for something else.

"Let's go to your place, Princess," I said. It wasn't a request. She wanted me to make a decision, not ask a question.

"As you wish, my knight," she said with a sexy little smile.

Frida was right. She lived in a castle. It was the gaudiest fucking place I've ever seen. It reminded me of the kind of house you might see on a cable TV show about celebrity mansions. Think of a place where Liberace might have lived. Or RuPaul. I've never seen so much gold paint in my life. It had a turret. That's right - a turret. The only things missing were a moat and drawbridge.

"I know this looks dreadful," Frida said. "I hate living here."

"I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone who wants to buy it," I said.

The etiquette of dating always challenged me. There are so many rules. How long should you wait before asking a woman for a second date? Everyone says one day is too short because it suggests you are desperate. Three days is too long because it's rude to make a woman wait that long. I've reached the point in my life where I don't care about all the fucking rules anymore. The rules suggested that on my first visit to Frida's home, we share a cocktail, have more conversation, and that I should kiss her just before going home.

Fuck that shit. I wanted to let her know exactly how I felt. Immediately. Before we even removed our coats, I took her in my arms, pulled her to me, and gave her the most passionate kiss I could. Yeah, I know that the rules say the first kiss should be gentle and affectionate; passion is supposed to come later. I can not describe the enormity of the fuck I did not give for all those fucking rules.

"Wow," she said when I finally let her go. She put a hand on my chest and looked at me in a way that let me know she wanted me to kiss her again. The second kiss was even longer and more heated. When it was over, I reached back and undid Frida's hair, letting those long brown locks fall down to her shoulders.

"Let's go somewhere we can sit down," I said. Frida led me to a small couch that was covered with a fabric that felt like velvet. Purple velvet. Everything in Frida's house was odd. It was obvious Joe had been in charge of decorating. It looked like a cross between Disneyland and a comic book.

But none of that mattered. I got back to the serious job of kissing Frida the way she wanted to be kissed. It wasn't long before I was kissing her neck and running my hands up and down her body. She took a deep breath when she finally felt my hands caressing her breasts.

Actually, I caressed the layers of clothing that covered her breasts. Frida was a corporate lawyer, and she dressed like one. She wore a classy business suit with a perfectly tailored jacket over a starched white blouse. I began unbuttoning that blouse, slipping one hand into a lacy bra until I felt a very stiff nipple and squeezed it between my fingers. It made Frida gasp.

It was time to see her bedroom. I stood up without a word, took her hand, and let her show me the way. The bedroom was as overdone as every other part of the house. Frida pointed to the ceiling. "There's a mirror over the bed," she said, shaking her head.

"Of course there is," I said. "I don't care what's on the ceiling. All I care about is what's in front of me."

What would an alpha male do? I began removing Frida's clothing. I didn't rush, but I didn't linger, either. Her body surprised me. Frida was buff! Her business suit concealed a body that was the result of an intense fitness regimen. She told me later that she used exercise to cope with the stress and anxiety that came from being married to a jerk. There was a big home gym downstairs next to the home theater. She spent long hours pumping iron and doing cardio.

She'd done a marvelous job. Frida's body was a work of art. Every muscle on her frame was perfectly defined, like an anatomy chart of an idealized female form. If Michaelangelo had wanted to sculpt a statue of Athena, he would have needed someone like Frida as a model.

I looked her up and down, making her blush. It was adorable. "You are a goddess," I said. "I've never seen anything as lovely as you." Those seemed to be the words she wanted to hear right then.

She helped me remove my clothes, then we got in the middle of her bed. It was huge. I don't know where you buy beds that are bigger than king sized, but this was large enough to host a foursome and have room left over for a box full of sex toys. I asked if we needed birth control, and she let me know it was handled. Afterward she explained that she was absolutely determined not to have children with Joe, so she'd gone on the pill years earlier.

I ran my hands over two firm, perky, apple-sized breasts. I caressed her abs, which felt like iron covered with satin. My hand moved lower, but I avoided touching her pussy, stroking her inner thighs instead.

My feeling is that the way to make love to a woman for the first time is to keep it simple. In that situation, what a woman wants is to feel close to her man. A lengthy session of missionary sex is best; the fancy stuff can wait for the second, third, fourth and fifth time you take her to bed.

In this case, I didn't follow my own rule. One way I could tell Frida was aroused was with my nose. An irresistible feminine fragrance filled the air in her room, and it drove me crazy with desire. My mouth started to water. I needed to taste her. I needed it right then. I began kissing my way down her belly, then I spread her legs and got between them. The missionary stuff would have to wait.

I was kissing the soft flesh of her inner thighs when I made a wonderful discovery. Frida was a loud lover. When my lips got close to her pussy, she began making sexy noises that were so erotic they made my cock hard enough to hurt. I love the sound of an aroused woman. Lois was loud, but the way she expressed herself was by spouting obscenities and insults that were intended to make me whip her ass and fuck her so hard she walked with a limp afterward. I'm not saying I never enjoyed that kind of kinky eroticism. I'm only saying that I much prefer the kind of soft, sexy sounds that were pouring from Frida's lips at that moment. I'd rather have a princess than a whore.

All women taste wonderful, and they all taste different. Frida tasted mild and fresh, with faint hints of some kind of scented soap. She was very wet. I licked up every drop, but she was so excited she just got wetter and wetter.

I was surprised when she climaxed. It didn't take long. I imagined that it happened because she was unusually excited. Making love with a person for the first time can be very stimulating. But as the weeks went by, I discovered that Frida always climaxed quickly when we had sex.

Guys, don't ever ask a woman if she had an orgasm. They hate that question. Just shut up and wait for them to tell you what they want you to know. Frida didn't discuss this explicitly, but over the next few weeks she made little comments that led me to believe that Joe was one of those guys who didn't enjoy eating pussy. She gave me the impression that he didn't do it for her very often, and he acted like it was some kind of sacrifice when he would. I'm not sure, but I think he made Frida think he believed there was something deficient about her hygiene.

What an asshole, right?

Can anybody explain to me why a man doesn't want to eat his woman's pussy? What the actual fuck? There's nothing more wonderful than the taste of a hot, wet pussy. There's nothing more erotic than the way women respond. There's nothing women appreciate more. Why would any guy resist that? I don't get it.

What I do know is that the first time I ate Frida's pussy, she came like a machine gun. She called out over and over, saying my name in between repeated exclamations of arousal. I stuck my tongue as deep inside her as I could when her vagina began to throb. Her body went stiff as all her muscles clenched, unclenched, and clenched again. I laid my head on her inner thigh, marveling at how firm and strong it felt. I realized that I would never get tired of exploring a body this thrilling.

I gave Frida a moment to recover, then began eating her pussy again. It would have been easy to make her cum a second time that way, but I wanted something different. My aim was to make her so hot she was ready to climax. Then, when she was right on the edge, I'd move up her body and start having missionary sex.

Frida immediately resumed making sexy sounds as I licked, sucked and nibbled her succulent fleshy folds. She was so wet it got all over my face. Since she'd cum already, it took time for her to get excited again. But her arousal grew and grew, and soon she was squirming beneath my tongue. She made little fists and beat the mattress. She was ready.

I crawled up the bed, placed my cock at the entrance to Frida's pussy, then paused as I looked her in the face. "You are so beautiful," I said.

I kept waiting. I wanted Frida to ask for my cock. The expression on her face showed that she couldn't understand why I didn't immediately push my dick inside her. "Dan... I want it... please," she said finally.

Please. That was the magic word. I pressed forward until the head of my cock popped inside her. "Oh!" she said sharply.

Frida was very tight. She felt wonderful. I began easing my cock in and out, going slightly deeper with every stroke. I needed to make this last. Frida deserved a man who didn't rush.

The longer we made love, the more excited she got. "Dan! Oh my God! You're so big!" she said.

That is just not true. My cock is average. I've never had any complaints, but Frida was the first woman who ever told me I had a big cock. At first, I thought it was just something she said to make me feel good. I didn't take it seriously, but I appreciated the sentiment.

Then I remembered something. That sex video of Joe and Lois showed that Frida's ex husband had a very small dick. In comparison with Joe, I was hung like a horse. Well, maybe a pony. That must explain why Frida's pussy was so tight. My cock was bigger than what she was used to.

I slid in and out of her hot, wet body. She was excited before I entered her pussy, and she got more aroused very quickly. It wasn't long before she was calling out joyfully as she climaxed again.

I felt like a pretty good lover right then. Frida had climaxed twice, and my cock was still nice and firm. I didn't feel I urgently needed to cum. We had plenty of time to continue.