Mistakes

“We all make mistakes I suppose.” Sharon raised the glass of Merlot to her lips, her eyes fixed, almost glazed, somewhere between the next table and the tacky wallpaper behind the waitress station some twenty feet away. A sip, then half the glass drained. “I’ve made a few mistakes.”

Her fingers tapped the tabletop; she bit her lip. Her bright green eyes darted this way and that as if to catalogue everything in the room. She had the look of a little girl in a confessional, ready to spill everything. I sat in silence, wondering if I really wanted to know. I watched the candlelight reflected in her eyes, lit my third cigarette. The person who speaks first loses.

“You know,” she pushed her long brown hair behind one ear, folded her hands on the table, “sometimes I wonder if anything really matters.”

“How do you mean?” I tapped an ash into the tray.

Sharon wiggled in her chair, pushed aside the remains of a half-eaten Greek salad. “I mean,” a little frown leant a crease to her cheek, “I mean, you devote your life to believing in something – in someone – and you think everything’s fine. But then…”

I waited; my cigarette sent long blue trails into the dark. Sharon drew a deep breath, as if she were planning to sink below the surface of the overly unnecessary fishpond next to the doorway and hide there.

“But then, you find yourself doing something stupid: something you never saw yourself doing – something you told yourself you’d never, ever do.”

“Is everything OK?” The waitress appeared as if from a dense fog. Sharon jumped, almost spilled her Merlot, raised the glass to her bow-red lips and drained it.

“Wonderful, but I think we’re ready for another round.” I gestured to indicate Sharon’s empty glass. “Are the two-thousand Bordeaux’s out yet?”

“Yes, but we have a hard time keeping stock. The reds are all gone. We still have a few bottles of the white, it’s a Mouton Cadet.”

“Sounds lovely.” I didn’t sound convincing so much as a tad petulant. Sharon didn’t look like she cared. “-But I think we’ll stick with the Merlot.” I was irritated by the interruption but pasted a warm smile on my lips. The waitress hurried back to the bar. Sharon and I sat, eyes locked, until the waitress returned with a fresh bottle and clean glasses, balanced our used dinnerware on one hand and disappeared.

I stubbed out my cigarette, waited for the tale to continue. Sharon took another deep breath and resumed.

“I never planned it, you know. I never thought about it, never went looking for it. It just happened.” A drop of wine escaped the rim of the glass. It trailed down her chin to splash on the top of her breast and then disappeared into her blouse, unnoticed. I lit my fourth cigarette, listened to it crackling in the dark.

“I cheated on him.” She leaned into the table, lowered her voice to a whisper. “I cheated on him and I loved it. Do you really want to hear this? I hope you do, because I really need to tell someone – someone who won’t judge me for it.”

“We all make mistakes.” I set my cigarette in the ashtray, took her hands in mine. Cool and wet, still trembling. “-And if you think it’ll make you feel better, I’m happy to listen.” I loved to hear her talk.

The beginnings of a tear misted her eye; she released my hands, rubbed it away, locked her fingers on the edge of the table. Little folds in the cloth radiated outward from her fingers like a web. She looked around the room once more. We seemed the only customers left in the place.

“It’s been years since Bill and I slept in the same bed, though we still fuck now and again. Nothing dramatic – just kind of mechanical. We don’t talk much either. Hello, goodbye, I love you: all just empty words. I don’t think either of us feel much anymore, and if not for the kids we’d have called it quits years ago. Still, having sex with someone else was something I never seriously considered. I was raised a good Catholic girl – your marriage is what it is and it’s forever - no option out.

“I knew Steve from work. He was a client, traffic manager for one of my biggest accounts. We went to lunch once a month, but it wasn’t like work – I really enjoyed his company; he talked to my eyes, not to my tits. We liked the same movies; the same tired old classic rock. He was fun to be with, that was all. He’s married too, you know.”

Sharon drained her glass again. I poured another.

“Everything was fine for a couple of years. Everything would still be fine if not for the snowstorm. It was a freak – starting in the middle of the day and all. We were trapped in traffic for hours, only moving inches at a time, barely able to see a few feet beyond the front bumper. I never should have taken the goddamn expressway. I’m like an idiot at times.

“So there we were, stuck and running out of gas. We both tried to phone home, but the network was overloaded and our batteries died trying. It was nearly midnight when the motor gave its last gasp. We rolled up the windows to keep in the heat but it was useless. Before long we could see our breath – the windows were completely fogged. I was shivering, trying to pull my coat around me – but it was no use.”

Sharon took a long, uneven breath. I could see her nipples beginning to push against the thin fabric of her blouse as she squirmed against the long, leather bench-seat. She caught my eyes, looked at the table then back at me and continued.

“Finally I asked him to do it. “Can we sit closer?” I asked. “I’m freezing,” I said to him. He looked a little uncomfortable, but I didn’t need to talk him into it. Our lips must have been turning blue and we weren’t dressed for a walk out of there. He was wearing street-shoes, I had a knee-length skirt and pumps and the snow was bumper deep and still falling and there was nothing, no one around for miles and miles.

“I slid from behind the wheel. We were hip-to-hip; he slipped an arm around my shoulders, I held his other hand in both of mine. His hand felt hot. I could smell his after-shave, could smell the wind on his jacket and that kind of familiar coming-out-of-the-cold scent took me back to my dad coming home late from work in the Wintertime. I was warming up a little. I felt safe.

“We sat like that for a while: me rubbing his hand, his other hand rubbing my shoulder. We talked about all kinds of things. We talked about things we shouldn’t have talked about. Somehow, I ended up telling him I hadn’t slept with Bill in over three years. Stupid of me, don’t you think?”

I broke my silence, refilled our glasses. “Well, it was an unusual situation, Sharon.” The bottle was half gone. She swirled her wine around in the bottom of her glass. He cheeks were beginning to show some extra colour.

“We started talking about sex then. He didn’t down-talk his wife at all, but I could read between the lines. Turns out his wife wasn’t exactly a sexual adventurer. Man-on-top, in and out and over with, that sort of thing. I wanted to comfort him – no, I’m full of shit – I wanted to comfort myself. I let one of my hands rest on his knee.

“He stiffened a bit, but didn’t make any move to break contact. I hadn’t planned for any of this to happen, still wasn’t really planning anything at all. On the other hand, I wasn’t planning for it not to happen either. I could feel myself getting wet down there, and try as I might I couldn’t keep from squirming around in my seat. I let my fingers trace little circles on his knee. We moved closer. I could feel his breath on my cheek, warm and sweet. The air felt warmer too; I couldn’t see my breath anymore.

“We sat that way for what seemed like hours, not talking, just cuddling. I was sure he could hear my heart beating. I began to wonder if he was getting as aroused as I was – my panties were soaking. I knew I should be doing something to stop what was happening, but my body was pushing my common sense into the background. I jumped a bit when his hand came to rest on my knee but I didn’t push him away. At that point I began to imagine myself on my hands and knees.

“It was like an electric shock, when his lips touched my neck. Like a feather, sending hot shivers down my spine that went straight through my pussy. I gasped, tilted my head back, let his tongue flick up and down my neck, my ear - oh god, I didn’t want him to stop and I didn’t want him to keep doing it and the next thing I knew our lips locked together and out tongues began to dance. I let my hand run up his thigh and I felt him stiffen to my touch. My hips started to flex and tense as if they had a mind of their own. His hand drifted higher on my inner thigh – I parted my legs slightly and moaned into his mouth.

“I broke our kiss then, panting. “Maybe we shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered. I acted like I didn’t want to, but I didn’t move away either. I could feel the blood rushing to my pussy; I wanted him touch me there but I couldn’t believe what I was doing. What if Bill found out? My marriage would be over. Still, I couldn’t take my hand away from his cock. I could feel him throbbing through his pants. I couldn’t get the image of him fucking me out of my head. I was anticipating every inch he had sliding deep inside me – it had been so long since I’d been filled that way.

“I’ll stop if you will,” he said. We backed away for a moment – that was all. It was like watching myself from a distance as I inched his zipper down and fumbled inside his boxers. He raised his hips off the seat and suddenly it popped out and my eyes locked on his swollen member as I pumped it up and down. He moaned, and a drop of clear, sticky fluid oozed out of the tip. I rubbed it over the head until it glistened in the dim light. It was amazing, like he was fucking my hand while I jacked him off right there in the front seat of my Saturn. He closed his eyes, and suddenly his fingers were kneading my pussy through my nylons and panties. I thought I’d been wet before that, but now I was gushing. I could feel the tender flesh engorging, and every time his fingers came near my clit I’d let out a little gasp or moan.

“I broke contact then, but any intention of stopping what we were doing was buried beneath my need to have him. I arched my hips off the seat, hiked my skirt to my waist and yanked my nylons and panties to my ankles in one motion. As if in a dream I heard myself telling him to shove me down and eat me.

“He did. Oh god, he almost slammed me into the door. I was on my back, my head against the door-handle, one hand over the seat and the other locked on the steering wheel and my skirt bunched up around my waist. The cold air slapped against my bare pussy as he kissed his way up one trembling thigh and then the other. I could see his cock hanging, straight and stiff, out of his fly. It brushed against one of my shoes and - and left behind a little trail of pre-come on the polished leather. I managed to kick off the shoes and take his cock between my nylon-clad feet just as I felt his hot breath on my pussy for the first time.

“I screamed when his tongue parted my lips. He began to lick slowly, back and forth along the slit, coming near my clit but not touching. I was going crazy, bucking and moaning and holding his cock tight between my feet. The man can eat pussy, I mean, he’s a master at it. I could feel the tension in my clit building higher and higher, could feel his cock throbbing as he fucked my feet. When he finally found the little man in the boat I all but blacked out. I just locked my hands behind his head, ground myself into his face and came and came and came.

“He disengaged his cock from my feet, kissed his way back down my thighs until he reached my ankles, then slid off my nylons and panties – tossed them into the back seat. I began to work on his belt buckle like a madwoman; I think I almost hurt him but he wasn’t complaining when I pushed him back into the seat and took him in my mouth.

“Damn, the noises he made! You’d think he’d never had his cock sucked before!”

I chuckled, but said nothing – I didn’t want to interrupt her. The wine was almost gone now, and I was squirming in my chair. In a more private setting I’d have been hard-pressed not to begin stroking myself to her graphic narrative. With great effort, I feigned patience and waited as she wet her mouth with a little more wine and continued her tale.

“He seemed to swell even tighter as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. His musky scent seemed to fill the world – so similar to my husband yet so very different, so very wrong. Do you know what I mean? He tasted like – like cheating, if that makes any sense. It set me on fire, sucking his cock. I’d just come in his mouth and now I was getting hot all over again as his hips thrust back and forth, fucking my mouth. He reached a hand behind me and began to stroke my tender opening. I began to fuck against him, faster and faster, knowing we were both building to climax. I pulled back then – I wanted him inside me.

“Climbing astride his lap, I felt the tip of his raging hard-on nestle between the lips of my pussy. My head was spinning – I was about to fuck a guy other than my husband for the first time since we’d married all those years ago. I felt like a cheap slut, but I loved it. Don’t look shocked either, I know you’re pretending. We moved together like that for a while, his hardness sliding between my lips but not penetrating, the fine hairs and veins along his shaft stroking my clit like tiny fingers, setting me on fire. Our mouths locked, tongues dancing, tasting ourselves on each other’s lips and suddenly, the head of his cock began to stretch me open.

“God, it was good, to have a hard cock inside me again, to feel him press ever deeper in one long, slow, unstoppable thrust. To feel him fill me – it was so wild, like the first time I’d been made love to. I don’t know what it was, the newness, the wrongness, or what. All I know is I wasn’t thinking about the cold, I wasn’t thinking about Bill, I wasn’t thinking about anything but Steve’s cock and out tongues wrestling and my clit grinding in his hair and the smell of our sex filling the air.

“Fuck me, I told him, breaking our kiss. Just fuck me. I leaned back against the dash, my knees on the seat, holding the rear-view mirror as if I was trying to pull it off. Our tempo increased. You could hear our bodies slap together as our sexes collided again and again and again. He reached for me, tore open my coat began to undo the buttons on my blouse, one after the other until it hug loose by my sides. He leaned into me, still thrusting, and kissed his way from my collarbone to the valley between my breasts. When he finally undid my bra I was thanking the lord for front-clasps. He sucked one swollen nipple into my mouth and then the other, back and forth. When he cupped my breast and pinched my nipple between his teeth I lost it – grunting and screaming and coming, impaled on his rock-hard cock that began to twitch and throb, spilling his hot seed inside my still spasming cunt. The sounds he made were incredible. It was the first time in years I’d felt like someone was actually enjoying my body. I can’t describe how good that felt.

“Anyway, we pulled our clothes back on and snuggled in each other’s arms until we were awakened by a state trooper knocking on the window. A can of gas and a tow-truck later we were on our way home. I dropped him at his office, kissed him goodbye with a promise to call for another lunch-date in the near future.”

The wine was gone and the hour was late, and my pants were having a tough time with my reaction to her story. I finally broke my silence.

“How about Bill? Any problems?”

She smiled; tiny laugh-lines appeared at the corners of her eyes. She looked delicious.

“No problems with Bill, I just tell him I’m out with you. Sometimes I wonder if he cares at all. Sometimes I wonder if I care. In any case, my lunch-dates with Steve more than make up for it. I think I’m as close to happy now as I’ve ever been. Do you think that’s wrong?”

“No, I don’t. Isn’t that why you tell me all this stuff?”

She smiled, tossed her hair. “Just a quick trip to the ladies room, then we’d better hit the road.” She reached for the check, but I grabbed it first.

“I got it.”

Our footprints made fresh tracks in the snow as we crossed the parking lot to her car. She stuck out her tongue with closed eyes. A deep breath and a smile. She batted her eyes at me with a mock-coquettish grin.

“It’s snowing, you know.”

“I can see that.”

“You’d better be careful, I might get a chance to convert you.”

“If anyone could, it would be you sweetie – it would be you.”

We drove off, together, into the night.

Copyright ©2002 Veragem, all rights reserved. Not to be reprinted or re-posted in whole or in part without the consent of the author.