Mindy Didn't Mean to be Seduced

I'm going to tell you a true story and let you decide whether my behavior can be forgiven. It happened several years ago. My husband turned out to be cheating, just as I feared at the time. We're still together and making things work, but it was complicated then, as you'll see.

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We'll start the story in the middle, at its most crucial point. It's about 10:30 p.m., toward the end of a daylong party at a suburban estate. The wine and spirits flowed freely and I am definitely drunk, although fully aware of what is happening. I am in a wooded area beside a small pond, somewhere in the back part of the estate. I am wrapped in a blanket that was actually a triple-size beach towel. I am lying on my side, talking with the guy who is the host of the party. He's lying across from me, on his side. He's wearing the swimsuit and casual top he's been wearing all day because much of the party happened, and is still happening, at the swimming pool behind the main house. Under my beach-blanket wrap, I am stark naked.

The relationships are complicated in this story. I'm Mindy. Jack is the guy on the blanket with me. He's a business associate of my husband's, but they've crossed swords a couple times and don't really like each other. Jack's wife Marcia works for my husband Dan, likely the real reason we were invited to the party. My husband had spent major party time flirting with Marcia, dancing several times, disappearing for awhile. I had become more and more pissed, causing me to keep filling my rum punch glass.

Jack asked a fair but complicated question, "So how did you wind up here, tonight."

I laughed. but uneasily. "You wrapped me up, picked me up, and carried me."

"That's not what I was asking, but you'll have to admit you needed some help."

He was right about that. My husband had found me sitting alone by the pool and made up some reason that he needed to leave the party for awhile. So off he went, pissing me off worse than before. I thought about him and Marcia and the near certainty they were off somewhere behaving REALLY badly. And I hatched a plan I still can't quite believe that I hatched,

I went up to the house, found a laundry room, pulled my cover-up over my head, then unfastened my bikini top and pulled it off, too. I paused for a moment, not too drunk to realize that my next decision was a big one. And I slid my bikini bottoms over my hips and stepped out of them.

Here I need to pause to re-emphasize that I was amazed then, even though tipsy, and am amazed still. in hindsight. All I can say is that Dan had REALLY pissed me off, and I played the role of woman scorned in a way I had never thought about before. Well, okay, I may have thought about it, but never thought I would actually do it.

I gathered everything up, and found a storage shelf. Then I opened the laundry room door, marched down a hall to the back door, and marched without looking left or right, down a sloping hill to the pool where the remaining party seemed to be happening.

There were maybe ten people around the pool, mostly guys but maybe a couple women, I didn't really care at that point. I got a couple whistles but more like, "WHOAH, what the hell?" I didn't say a thing, just marched down the walkway at the side of the pool, climbed onto the diving board at the far end, paused for a few moments -- possibly for dramatic effect, as I was aware that all eyes were on me. And I dived into the pool and swam a couple laps, aware of the cold water, aware that my bare ass was in full view. After swimming a few more laps, occasionally shifting to a backstroke that was well received by my audience, I decided that I had made whatever statement I needed to make but realized that I had absolutely no plan for my exit. Dan had taken the car somewhere. No chance to hide there. Walking naked back up the hill toward the house felt embarrassing, maybe even humiliating.

That's where Jack and his blanket-wrap come in. He showed up at the edge of the pool and held it open. I figured out his offer -- or at least part of it -- climbed up the small ladder to the awaiting blanket, and let him help wrap me up. It seemed like a gentlemanly thing for him to do, but in hindsight I remember that he made a bit more physical contact than was likely necessary.

I was surprised when he picked me up, but plenty drunk enough that I didn't analyze carefully or protest in the least. We started toward the house, as I expected, but about halfway up the slope, he turned left and headed toward the wooded area with its hidden pond. I was surprised enough to say, "What are we doing?" He said something like, "I'll give you a minute to dry off and get yourself together." It didn't make a lot of sense, but once again, no alarm bells went off in my head.

He laid me beside the pond, and unwrapped just enough blanket to give himself a place to lie beside me. And now you know how I got here and why Jack had asked what motivated the moment.

"I was pissed at Dan, really pissed," I said.

"Well that makes two of us, dear Mindy." His tone had gone harsh. I didn't really need to ask why, so just said, "What's going on with them?"

He just shook his head, face tense, eyes somehow distant and angry. "So how does being pissed at Dan wind up with you swimming naked in my pool?"

It seemed like a fair question, and I didn't see the danger in my answer. "I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, always have been. Dan doesn't like it when I flaunt myself, as he calls it. He even goes possessive about stuff like guys looking up my skirt or down my top."

Jack chuckled, "He definitely wouldn't have liked the pool scene."

I nodded. "That was the whole idea, and when he finds out about it, I'll just call it payback and hope he gets it."

"No chance he goes violent?"

"No, Dan and I have been here before...well, not exactly here...he always gets over it."

We were silent for a long, kind of strange, moment. I think he was focused on his own issues with Marcia. I mulled over how I was going to navigate my way past whatever party people were still between me and my bikini and cover-up. Jack couldn't carry me back for obvious reasons. The blanket might help but I was sure that party buzz had spread the word about my bareness. Appearing in the blanket might look like a public confession. Finally I just said, "Any good ideas on how I get back to my clothes?"

He looked at me with brow furrowed. "Dan doesn't like me, right?"

"That would be true, ever since the Martin deal came apart. He blames you."

"I assume he wouldn't like knowing about this scene."

Now I looked at him with furrowed brow. "Oh my God, I can't even imagine it."

"I want you to give me a personal show, Ms. Exhibitionist."

I was definitely not expecting that. In fact, I had started to get comfortable, deciding Jack was an okay guy who had helped me. Talking for awhile had seemed better than getting back to the bikini and cover-up dilemma. "Surely you're not serious."

"Why not? You like showing it and you're pissed at Dan. Dan already doesn't like me. So you can do a serious jealousy number on a guy that deserves it."

I could feel butterflies flapping in my stomach. "But this is way different from a panty shot in the park."

"We're already way past panty shots," he reminded me.

I said, with more fear than conviction, "Well this is just, uh, way different." And I think he picked up on the fear part. I was turned on, way more than I should have been. Not because of Jack, exactly, although he's a good looking, captain of the team guy. It was because I really like being dressed in less than I should be, and showing more than I'm supposed to. I imagine a shrink could explain it to me; something from childhood, I guess.. I just know it's true and it was true now.

"Okay," he told me, "here's what we'll do. You can tell Dan -- next time you want to pay him back for something -- that you were with me and you were wrapped up in this blanket... "

Before I could say, "Not a chance," he moved over, closer to me. "And you can tell him I was helping you dry off, using the beach blanket..."

He moved even closer, his hand reaching toward me. stroking my neck and down to my bare right shoulder. then down my arm -- still under the blanket -- then onto my side just at hip level. His hand motion went circular on my hip and back, something like helping me dry off, but I wasn't all that wet by then. I felt almost paralyzed, not ready, not speaking, but I could feel my heart beating harder. Finally I managed to say, "Jack, this isn't a good idea. I really need to get dressed." He ignored me completely.

He spoke softly, something like a teasing whisper, "You can tell Dan that once in a while, my hand reached the bare skin just above the blanket, and I kind of pushed the blanket down, and..."

Jack stopped whispering and made it all come true. His left hand had moved gently down my neck, onto my chest. The blanket had slid down, now just barely covering my breasts.

He began the teasing whisper again. "And you can tell him that once in a while my hand got under the blanket and touched you where it shouldn't have." He gently pushed me onto my back, sliding the blanket down at the same time. I felt the blanket texture vividly as it slid down, baring my breasts. His hand still moved in a circular motion, as if continuing to dry off my chest and stomach. At first, he seemed to be avoiding direct contact with my breasts, but he was close, then he was touching me, and sometimes brushing across my nipples."

I managed to say, "Jack, stop, don't..." I tried to push his hand away, but not really. The truth is, I knew then that I had no chance. My breasts are supersensitive and seem to be direct-wired to my crotch. I was on fire. I made one more feeble try at grasping his wrist to stop the hand that was now owning me. "Please, Jack, I can't do this..."

He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. His hand moved forcefully to cup and caress my breast, his palm on my nipple.. Then he moved his fingers to my nipples, back and forth, gently pinching and caressing. I was moaning softly, all resistance gone. My back arched.

He whispered directly in my ear, "Then tell your dear husband that my hand moved down to your stomach and while I was caressing you, my mouth went to your breasts, my tongue all over your nipples, and somehow the blanket fell away."

It was all happening as he spoke. My moaning was louder. I knew I should be quiet since the house and pool were close enough that I could hear shouts and splashing. But it was hard. I felt him shift his weight, closer to me, his hand and mouth still owning me.

He whispered, "Then my thigh was between your legs, forcing your legs apart," I closed my eyes, just wondering how he would finish me off, not whether. I felt myself responding to his thigh, aware of an athlete's hard, well-toned muscles, I spread my legs wider, lifting my hips rhythmically to respond to him. I wondered how wet I might be making his thigh.

He whispered, "Then tell him that my hand was between your legs and..." I felt his hand replace his thigh. He was stroking me, teasing me, skillfully finding my clit, torturing me. I was close. He knew it. He took me to the very edge... paused, for what seemed like forever; I almost begged. Then two fingers were inside me, moving slowly at first... then faster... then harder and deeper. I moaned, "Oh God... Oh God..." over and over while I tried to find ways to be closer to him, and I exploded in the most crazy intense orgasm of my life, trying to stifle my scream... not sure it was stifled enough.

I lay there, gasping, legs still spread, his hand still stroking but gently now. Then he moved back to my breasts, one hand stroking me, his mouth on my other breast, tongue swirling, making me crazy again. Then he whispered in my ear... "And what do you want to tell Dan that I did next?"

I feel guilty, still, about my reply. I guess I can't blame anyone who would call me a slut. But I had never experienced anything like the sexual intensity of those few minutes. I've read about the "love hormone" that is triggered during high sexual arousal. Maybe that's what explains the way I felt about Jack at that moment and the reason I pulled him close, kissed him deeply and answered in a hoarse whisper of my own....

"I want to tell him that you went down on me, and tongued me, and I came, and came, and came and then you fucked me like I've never been fucked before."

And it happened, just like that, erotic teasing sometimes, slow and gentle lovemaking sometimes, then taking me with him forcefully to the most spectacular physical moment of my life.

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Dan and I survived his affair with Marcia. Jack and I never reconnected, but we see each other in business and social circles, and the eye contact still causes a few butterflies in my stomach. I honestly think that Jack helped me survive Dan's affair with Marcia, but I doubt a marriage counselor would suggest it as therapy.