Her Other Life

You can thank, as do I, the persistent Randi for this submission on supplementary Legend's day. If she gets nominated for Literotica sainthood, she has my vote. With this submission, I expect my readership to reach 2,000,000. That doesn't make me feel like a legend, just humble, and I thank you all for warming my heart.

This tale was expertly edited by CreativityTakesCourage. Inside and out, the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Thanks sweetheart.

As this is a long one, I'll issue my standard warning. RAAC searchers, move along, there's nothing to see here. Spoiler alert, read the rest of this intro only if you wanna. --_{Yes, there's sex, no, no innocent persons were harmed in the making of this story, yes, there is cheating.}

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A confusing start and a convoluted end. That's how, in its immediate aftermath, I saw my affair.

At the beginning, it made no sense. Here I was, a happily married woman, who dearly loved her husband, having a four-month affair with another man. I'm hazy on the exact reason it started; that's one reason I'm putting pen to paper. The other reason being; it must never happen again.

No, my husband didn't catch me; I'm way too smart for that. The real reason is to remind myself in the future that, however exciting it may seem at the time, it just isn't worth it. It was terrifying from the start and the last couple of months have been a hell of guilt.

The end was convoluted because it didn't end until two and a half weeks after I first decided it finally should. There was no confusion about the exact moment I finally decided it should end. It was five seconds after I realised my lover, far from loving me, didn't give a shit about anyone but himself. That particular revelation came when I found myself on elbows and knees, on my own bed, with the bastard ploughing into my anus and completely ignoring my screams telling him to stop. The big prick had me completely powerless, however, and my discomfort made not one bit of difference to him.

Okay, the start. What happened four months ago?

I am madly in love with my husband, Dave, and have been since before we married six years ago. He'd just finished his Boilermaker apprenticeship and was so proud to be a journeyman. I was a little surprised when he showed an interest in me as I considered myself only slightly above average in looks, and was never that sought after in high school. Dave, on the other hand, was very cute; three inches taller than my 5' 7", good-looking and well-muscled. Temperamentally, he was a bit of a dichotomy. He was usually soft-spoken and mild-mannered, but I'd seen him often enough in stressful situations to know there was a cold, ruthless side to his personality.

I'd never seriously considered a career, knowing my future was as wife and mother. However, I wanted to live life a little. We'd decided, at first, to wait till we were thirty before starting a family. That is coming very soon. Dave, however, had been dropping hints he was ready for over a year now. I gave in and we decided I'd go off the pill next month.

What can I say? We were in love, both rapturously happy, and life was on track. With both of us working, the old bank balance was very healthy and we would be secure when I finally give up working to become a baby factory.

I guess things first started coming off the rails when the place I worked closed its doors. That was a shame, as they were a fantastic bunch. I quickly found another place, though. It was a smaller company; the owner, John, and thirty other employees. Apart from a couple of male technicians, the rest were female clerks and secretaries. You know how it is when you join a new, established group. It took a while for them to accept me.

John had hinted at my interview that with my secretarial experience, I might be considered for executive assistant promotion. Shortly after I started, it was clear his current assistant probably wouldn't be there much longer. Their relationship was decidedly frosty. Sure enough, three weeks later, she didn't show up and I was called into John's office and offered the job on probation. I accepted and it was announced. That afternoon, I noticed my tentative friendships with the other girls cooling. That wasn't the end of the world, though, as I'd maintained my friendships with the girls from my last job and we all got together regularly for girl's nights out.

Dave was happy someone was finally recognising my talents, but at the same time, disappointed when I suggested staying on the pill so I could challenge myself professionally. It would be nice to look back in future years and say I was a successful professional. I really don't know why I withheld a couple of facts from him that night. One was that in my new role, I would be making more money than him. The second was that I would have to travel with John fairly regularly.

Oh, another thing I didn't mention to Dave was how attractive John was. It wasn't just because he was big, fit, and very good-looking. It was the aura of power and wealth he exuded. He oozed charisma. When he gave me a genuine smile, as he was shaking my hand in congratulations, I felt blessed. I couldn't help noticing how soft his hands were compared to Dave's.

Thus began my new career and John's seduction of me.

Can you call it seduction when it was obvious what he had in mind? It certainly wasn't subtle. He was always 'innocently' touching me, making sure I had fresh flowers on my desk, and complimenting me. As I was aware of it all, I managed to stay completely in control. I made sure to use the words, 'Dave' and 'husband' at least twice a day. If I did happen to be a clueless bimbo who'd fall for this crap, my new workmates would have clued me in. At least five of them mentioned John had a history and to watch out. I thanked them and let it be known I was smart enough to have spotted it myself. At the end of the first week, John took me to a clothes shop. As we would be travelling together, he wanted me to project the appropriate image. As he was paying, I ended up with slightly more revealing uniforms than I would have chosen for myself. I'm fairly sure it was a test when he offered to buy me some lingerie as well. I said no, of course.

Did I shut him down? No. Why not? For several reasons. The first being, I was on probation and no one in that position feels secure. Also, to be honest, I found his attention extremely flattering. What just-on-the-sunny-side-of-plain girl wouldn't? I did wonder what he saw in me and that was slightly confusing. I was in control though, so where was the harm in a little innocent flirting? I can't describe how flattering his interest in me was.

Day three of my new job and John's wife came to the office. I had the distinct impression I was being interviewed again. She showed me photos of their three cute children and could see I was a little clucky. We talked about Dave and my plans for a family. When she left, I felt confident she was happy I was smart enough to be qualified for the job and not some top-heavy, beautiful but vacant bimbo that she should be worried about.

Four weeks later, I came home on a Monday and told Dave that John and I were going for a three day sales trip from Wednesday. He asked how often these would be and I was vague by replying once or twice per month. He didn't comment.

Tuesday afternoon, I became aware of a bit of a hubbub in the main office. I left my antechamber, outside John's inner sanctum, to find Dave in the next room surrounded by clerks and secretaries. As usual, all the eligible girls surrounding him were giggling, touching their hair, and thrusting their chests out. His regular casual uniform was a loose, sleeveless tank top, that showed his upper body off well. He'd started wearing them at my suggestion. I rescued him and took him into my office. He wanted to meet John, so I introduced them. I could almost see sparks as they shook hands.

That night as I packed, Dave was so cute. He warned me to watch out for John. He told me some players were extremely subtle in their approach in an effort to get past people's defences. He warned me about the dangers of drinking too much while away and about men who slipped muscle and inhibition relaxants into girl's drinks. He even talked about some of the tactics they used. When I asked how he knew all this, he reminded me he was a fan of erotic stories and had read extensively on the subject. I found it very hard to keep a straight face. I knew exactly what John's intentions and tactics were. I had no intention of losing control. Of course, I couldn't say anything like that to Dave.

We went out for dinner, then Dave made love to me like only he can. I'd swear he was trying to make me so sore and satisfied, I wouldn't be able to do anything for the three days, even if I wanted to. However, as his rough hands caressed me at the start, I couldn't help imagining they were John's big, soft ones.

John and I left on the Wednesday morning, saw a few clients, then ended up at a hotel about a three-hour drive from home. He was being professional and careful and there was never a suggestion we share a room. As I showered, prior to meeting him for dinner, I wondered what tactics he would use. I wasn't far off. My new job wasn't exactly busy. I'd been able to spend hours per day reading erotic stories, concentrating mainly on the ones about predators. Dinner that night was all about how he and his wife had grown apart, how she didn't understand him, and how sexually unadventurous she'd become since they married. He pointedly avoided the subject of Dave, but did lay it on thick about how attractive I was. Yes, I had taken some effort with my hair and make-up, but had no illusions on where I fit in the supermodel scale. Even though I expected his tactics, I would swear his compliments were genuine.

My mind wandered back to the only time I'd questioned Dave on why he chose me. That was an eye opener. Although they never admit it to girls, or even other guys, most men weren't that attracted to supermodels, or those with Dolly Parton chests. They preferred loyal, homely, girl-next-door types. Two people can just click sexually, regardless of their physical merits. When I questioned him on the adequacy of my chest, he said that anything more than a one, on the BSH scale, was wasted. When I questioned the meaning of BSH, he replied, British Standard Handful. Then he demonstrated. Boy, did he demonstrate. He kept demonstrating until we were both exhausted. Maybe, that's how John saw me. Maybe, we just clicked on a sexual level.

That night, John was a gentleman and escorted me to my room, gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and went on his way. I half expected a knock on the door later, but it never came I had mixed feelings about his lack of pursuit, I'd been so certain he'd make his move. Still I was confident I hadn't totally misread his interest and I vowed to be as indirect as possible when he finally propositioned me and I turned him down. I enjoyed the feeling of being special that John's attention gave me. It was the long dormant thrill of being chased.

The next day we visited more existing and potential clients. I was introduced as John's 'beautiful new assistant.' Enough men smiled at me that I felt warm and fuzzy about it. That night at dinner, I expected a little pressure. I was confused when he called an early night and delivered me back to my room. After kissing me on the cheek again, he turned to leave. I was caught off guard, and, on reflection, felt a little insulted. I had a rejection speech all rehearsed. It said, no, but didn't prohibit further effort on his part.

As he turned away, I blurted, "Is that it?"

"Is that what?"

"I thought this was all part of your seduction. I thought tonight was when you would make your move."

He looked a little confused. In that instant, I knew I'd misjudged him. He then smiled in understanding.

"Let's go into your room and clear some things up."

We went in and I poured us some wine from the minibar. I sat in one of the chairs while he sat in the other.

"I apologise, Lisa, if there's been some kind of misunderstanding. While I admit to finding you extremely attractive, I have never cheated on my wife and doubt you have cheated on your husband either. I would certainly never risk our professional relationship, or, dare I say it, friendship, by making some clumsy pass at you like a teenager. Yes, I'm not totally happy with my wife, but I would have to think long and hard about jeopardising my marriage and so should you."

I was confused. I was so convinced he was a player this new information was forcing a reality shift. John stood to go and I rose as well. He took one pace forward and wrapped his arms around me.

"I hope I haven't insulted you, Lisa. As I said, I'd be lying if I said I don't find you extremely attractive, and, under other circumstances, would love to spoil you in that big bed over there, but we should both be very sure first. I don't want to spoil what we have by rushing into a cheap, tawdry affair."

He leaned down for another kiss. I closed my eyes and puckered my lips. He kissed me on the cheek again, let me go and left. It was still early, so I hopped in bed naked, rang Dave, and we had phone sex. I couldn't concentrate though. My thoughts were on the bulge I'd recently felt pressing into my stomach. After I rang off, I masturbated sensuously to the thought of John knocking on the door. That led to a better than average orgasm. I drifted off to sleep hoping he would knock, if only to absolve me on the chronic misreading I'd made of the situation.

As I'm writing this, I've just had a revelation. Well, I am writing it to explain to myself why I did what I did. If I don't understand it, how can I avoid it in the future? The revelation is something I should have known all along. Sex, for women, has four components. There's the purely physical side—the achieving the release that only a good orgasm can give you. Dave will always win there. After seven years of bedding me, he knows exactly what buttons to press and when. Second, is the feeling of love that comes with sex with someone who really cares about you. A loving connection when they spend two hours spoiling you rotten. Third, is the validation of your womanhood. When your partner walks in the bathroom, sees you naked, lifts you onto the bench, and just screws the shit out of you. The animalistic lust is perhaps the highest compliment you can ever get as a woman. The last element is something Dave can't give me anymore—the tension and excitement before someone beds you for the first time. A tension that slowly dissipates as the relationship continues.

My confusion is easing. I'd never had all four together. Sure, when I first got together with Dave, we had the loving connection and the tension, but because of our relative inexperience, neither knew exactly how to please the other. I now think that in John, I saw the possibility of having everything. I knew he had deep feelings for me. I could not only see it in his eyes, but knew he would never contemplate risking his marriage and family without it. The tension would be there in triplicate. How quickly would we be compatible sexually? I was much more experienced now and knew exactly what I wanted. John just oozed sexual confidence and must have had loads of previous partners. If we discussed what we both liked beforehand, then we'd hit the ground running. Not only that, but the discussions would, and, in fact, did, build up the tension. I'm getting wet just at the memory of the month that followed that first trip. No, concentrate, Lisa. You're writing this bloody thing to remind yourself that in the long run it's just not bloody worth it.

The next day, I wasn't introduced as 'my beautiful new assistant'. Nor did John touch me in any way. I think he was worried I was misinterpreting him and deliberately backed off. I admired him for that. The drive home was neutral. I was waiting for Dave when he got home, dragged him to bed and gave him a night to remember, I can tell you.

The admiration I felt for John, turned to frustration over the next few weeks. I missed the flirting, the compliments, and the subliminal sexual tension. By three weeks, I'd pretty much resolved to seduce him. I'd held something in my hands and now it was gone. I had to get it back.

The two girl's nights in those three weeks, I used to gather information. Two of my former colleagues, I knew, were having affairs. I subtly pumped them for information, which they both unashamedly provided. One even confirmed she only hung on to lovers for a few months until the tension and the newness wore off. I pretended to be concerned they'd get caught. That way I learned much about how to successfully hide things. At work, I ceased researching predators and moved on to how wives having extramarital romances (to this day I still can't call it cheating) are discovered.

At the office, John didn't object to my complimenting him on his sharp suits and touching him at every opportunity. I knew I was on track, when one day I was standing behind his chair, explaining something on his computer screen, when I brushed his neck with my breast. He must have felt my erect nipple because he half turned and kissed my shirt bump lightly. He apologised profusely and we returned to work. I knew then that I'd have to take it slow.

As we drove away on our next two-day trip, I felt in control. I wasn't fully committed to having an affair, but was lining John up so the decision on whether we did or not was mine. I managed to turn the conversation to sex several times. Telling John of the memorable encounters I'd had over the years. John questioned me for details enthusiastically. That trip, I was back to being introduced as 'my beautiful assistant'. I know now that was when I began to forget where I fell in the beauty spectrum. After all, if a virile man tells you how attractive you are five times a day, who are you to deny it?

That night, at dinner, he was effusive with his compliments and I subtly turned the conversation to where we'd left off on the last trip. He eventually let on he'd love to have an affair with me but was terrified of being caught. Like a good executive assistant, I briefed him on my research on how to avoid being discovered. That tipped the balance, and with a flushed face, he suggested we go upstairs and consummate our new relationship. I shot that down. Overtly because we didn't have our security arrangements in place, but really because I wanted to control things. Plus, I had yet to fully explore my feelings on whether I could do it for real. Now, of course, I realise I just wanted to bask in the sensuous tension that occurs before the act.

We went back to my room and he kissed me passionately for the first time. It was all I could do to insist he left. I spent half the night masturbating. The trip home the next day was all about planning and more talk of what we both liked in bed. Although I realise now that the end result was inevitable, I still led him to believe I'd not made up my mind. That wasn't hard as I was yet to convince myself.

For the next three weeks, I battled with my conscience. Should I or shouldn't I? I knew guilt would be a factor. I put my heart and soul into sex with Dave, but it was clear something was missing. I'd built the intimacy with John so large in my imagination that no mere mortal like Dave could compete. By the time of our next road trip, the decision was made. Still, I wanted to get mileage from the tension.

It was supposed to be a three day, two-night trip, returning on Friday. We skipped dessert on the first night as we both bowed to the inevitable. In my mind, our first time would be slow and sensuous, getting to know each other's bodies, and finding those secret places. Anything to build up that delicious anticipation.