New Thing Ch. 01

Jon ambled his way through the trendy little bistro with a dumb grin on his face. Call it naïve, call it foolish, but inspiration was inspiration, and when it hits you like a lightning bolt, your brain stops telling your muscles what to do. Right then, his muscles were moving him right to the back hallway he'd seen Trudy disappear into, the one that contained nothing but the restrooms, if memory served. He hoped memory served; he'd only been here a couple times, ever, and it'd been awhile at that.

Gonna get me some afternoon delight... Jon's dumb grin got downright stupid then. And hopefully not arrested for public indecency. The risk was worth it; he knew it in his bones the second he'd spotted his wife coming into this bean juicery as he'd driven by. Usually he didn't come this way for lunch, but errands put him into this part of town, near where Trudy worked, and he'd decided to swing by and say hi. Spotting her in her business casual skirt and sensible blouse had done... weird things to him. What she wore wasn't salacious in the slightest, but it was just so different than the sweats and tees that constituted her usual homewear lately.

Heh, my tasty corporate perk. Gonna tear some buttons off with my teeth! Jon could feel himself get stiffer and stiffer as he neared the shady corridor in the lightly patronized bistro. It was only the instant that his hand touched the knob of the single-occupant restroom that he had the thought that Trudy probably... almost definitely... would have locked the door, but by then he'd already begun turning it, logic be damned. To his shock, it opened.

That got shock number one out of the way just in time for number two.

"Huhhh... ohhh... ohhh... huh, huh, huh..." Trudy's breathy susurrations were escaping from red, parted lips, eased by her tongue darting out quickly to moisten them in-between exhalations. While she braced herself with one hand on the wall and the other on the sink fixture, her face was turned upward, eyes screwed shut and aimed at the ceiling, and her golden hair streamed down in waves behind her, shimmering in the noon-day light coming through the lone, high window in the small lavatory.

Jon could only stand there, his mind having nearly shut down in abject dumbfoundment, as he took all this in. All this, as well as the lips on his wife's neck, and the hand under the lacy bra--now exposed through her unbuttoned, sensible blouse--plying one of the full breasts that Jon had been treasuring for over a decade.

That alone was enough to knock him back on his heels, and it took a long, drawn out moan from Trudy to force his eyes downward, where he finally was able to complete the picture; her very business-like skirt hiked up over her thigh-high nylons, and yet another hand under the sopping-wet panties now revealed to the world. More importantly; the fingers of that hand working feverishly to turn his bride into a mound of quivering jelly.

"Ungh, ungh, uhgn..." Trudy's moans changed to grunts, and her bathroom buddy took it as a signal to move things along. Still oblivious to his presence, Trudy's lunch date demonstrated a kind of skill and finesse that would have been impressive in any other setting. Any other in the world besides... this.

Down to one knee, panties pushed aside, Trudy's leg propped up on a shoulder... and a mouth driving right for the honey pot. The sequence was executed with an expertly practiced flourish, which meant that Jon's wife was bucking under her climax--nearly frightening in its intensity--in about ten seconds flat.

That was a good thing. If his life was going to shatter before his eyes, at least it wouldn't be drawn out.

"Guuuhhhh..." Trudy braced her back against the wall, trying to both catch her breath and keep herself upright. Luckily for her and her immaculate business wear, she accomplished each of those goals. "Hell... that was... was the best one..." With a chuckle and a grin, she finally opened her eyes to look down on her lover. Problem was, to get there, those pretty blue orbs had to make it past the form of her husband first.

"Oh. Shit."

From below, slightly muffled by the back of a hand swiping across the face, came a puzzled grunt. "What are you... oh. Shit. I can't believe I forgot to lock the door again."

Jon looked at the barista who'd just tongue-fucked his wife and, absurdly, what came out of his mouth was... a laugh. "Well, you're like fifteen. No one expects you to not be stupid as hell."

"I'm twenty, dipshit." The girl with the neck-length, spiky, vividly purple hair narrowed her light brown, epicanthic eyes at him, and the sudden flush suffusing her made the intricate floral tattoo crawling up her neck from under her shirt positively pop. "And who the fuck are you anyway, you peeping moles--"

"Jon, baby..." Trudy, ignoring the exchange, was hastily trying to get herself straight again. The mis-buttoned blouse and lesbian lover, however, showed that her efforts were a bit lacking.

"Jon?" Said lesbian lover's eyes widened. "Oh. Shit."

"You said that already." Jon's brief, manic burst of desperate joviality was long gone. "Looks like your mouth is only good for one thing." He locked Trudy with his eyes then, finally forcing himself to tear them away from the kid that had ruined his life, shook his head once, did a complete about-face, then marched himself right back the way he'd come while trying to tell himself that it was a tactical retreat.

"Wait... just... just wait!" The shouts were following him, but getting smaller. He supposed that was because he was practically sprinting out the door, combined with an undoubtedly awkward jumble for Trudy to navigate in that cramped place where she'd betrayed him.

Where she'd betrayed him today, at least. He was as sure it wasn't the first time as he was that it would be the last.

__________

"Please don't kill me."

Jon had had a good half hour to get ready for this. Between driving like a maniac, and Trudy having to walk back to her office for her own car, he'd gotten home with time to spare, and made sure to order both himself and his thoughts. Well, as much as possible. He was, admittedly, a bit out of his depth. After all, he'd never been in quite this situation; the love of his life being revealed to have extra tastes. Extra... at best.

He sharpened his gaze at Trudy as she made her plea even while walking through their front door. When he didn't say anything right away, she swallowed nervously and gently closed the door behind her, her mind clearly churning enough to keep her from realizing that it didn't even latch.

"Baby, I can't imagine what's going through your head..." Trudy gingerly made her way towards where her husband was leaning against their little bar, arms crossed, trying to look as collected as possible. "I won't... I can't lie to you. It is what you think. Mostly."

"Yeah?" Jon grunted and kept his face smooth. "This'll be interesting. What do I think?"

"That I've gone crazy."

One for her.

"That what you saw wasn't the first time."

...two for her...

"That you wonder if, even if you could ever forgive me..." At this, Trudy gave a small, hiccupping sniffle. "...would I want to still... still be with..." The sniffle became a sob, and she reached out a trembling hand to him. When he didn't budge, it dropped to her side, still quivering.

"Congratulations, Trudy." Jon sighed and averted his gaze from the crying wreck before him. "You know me. Shows just how one-sided our marriage really is."

"No, no please." Trudy tried again, but both arms came up this time, and, before he could react, her hands were under his elbows, squeezing on his chest. "I love you. Desperately. That hasn't changed in the slightest, and... yes, if you can forgive me, if you're willing to let me be a better person... I absolutely want to be a better wife. You... oh god, I'm so, so sorry." She leaned in, pressing her face to his chest. "I stumbled. I fell. I... I don't know what exactly happened to me. This... it's... a new thing." She gave a choked moan. "I'm not... I never deceived you about what I am. What I... enjoy."

Jon didn't push her away, but he remained unyielding in her arms. It was hard, he could admit that. In every other moment of their life together, Jon reveled in his wife's touch. It got his motor running just as much on day three-thousand as on day one. Not today, though. Not now.

"So... what? You were seduced? Tattooed coffee-girl with her smoky eyeliner and punky hair was just fucking irresistible? Did she crook a finger while slithering away to the back of the shop, pulling your string like a goddamned puppet?"

"It... um, took longer than that." Trudy pulled back to peer up at him, and the nervous look in her blue eyes increased by the second. "Not that it's a defense, I guess. Me and Kristy got to know each other over... like, months, I suppose. We... uh... we clicked, you could say."

"And then she double-clicked you."

Trudy flinched. "I mean, if you want to just..." She sighed. "I never meant it to happen. I never... felt like that before with a woman. She just... she snaked herself right--" Her cheeks went red then. "I mean, she put herself into... oh god, there's no good way to just... just talk about how I let a woman fuck me, is there?"

"There really isn't."

Trudy paused then, struggling. "And do you... maybe, possibly... think it's..." She gave a little smile, full of so much hope. "...hot?"

"Hot?" Jon did push her away from him then. "Hot! Trudy, leave aside the betrayal... are you seriously asking if it turns me on to consider that the woman I love has chosen something I can't even compete with? That I'm not what she wants, and probably never was?"

"Jon, no. Just... just no. That's absolutely not true." Trudy, showing some prudence, didn't try to embrace him again. "I love you. You are my husband. The one I chose, the one I want to spend my life with. The one I wished I could have given... given children..."

Jon's breath caught, and he felt a flash of sympathy despite himself. Lord, I thought she'd gotten better. She couldn't have kids, they'd discovered that years before. He was disappointed, but she was devastated, and it took a long time for her to pull herself out of the morass. Lately, they'd even begun talking about adoption. Apparently, it was about the only important thing in their lives they had talked about.

Trudy wiped at her eyes and managed to stanch the tears this time. "Sorry. I know I shouldn't have said a thing about it being hot, or whatever. It was pretty crass. This is real life, and what I did won't just get a pass." She stared at Jon then, holding his gaze for a good few seconds; enough that he got uncomfortable. It was right when he opened his mouth--vowing to stop letting her steer the confrontation--that she decide to drive the car right off a cliff.

"I have to make it up to you. We... you... have to be even if we can fix this. I..." Trudy bit her lip, suddenly shy. "...shit. Better to just do it." She turned to the still-cracked front door. "Kristy. Now or never."

Hearing those words, even seeing the door slowly swing open, didn't impart any clarity on Jon. No, illumination didn't come until she appeared; still in the bistro t-shirt and skin-tight black jeans--complete with little green apron, even--nervously running her fingers through her trendy, spiky purple hair, folded eyes aimed everywhere but at them.

Holy shit. Trudy went insane.

"Um... so, yeah. This, uh... this is happening. I guess." The girl, Kristy, got very interested in a picture hanging next to her, turning to face it fully and running a finger along the frame.

"Jesus. You two cannot be saying what I think you're saying." Jon finally croaked out a response after a silence like the tomb threatened to crush all of them.

Trudy, biting her lip again so hard it turned white, finally went to open her mouth, but Jon's response, or just something in the tone, opened up the floodgates.

"What the hell, dipshit? You can't be this dense. Yes, it's ex-fucking-actly what it sounds like; I'm gonna... gonna rock your goddamned world, okay?" Kristy's face was full to the brim with indignation, and she forgot herself enough to actually stride right to the living room where her lover and maybe-lover were watching, nonplussed.

The kid--and that's just how Jon thought of her in that moment--grabbed her chest with both hands and began... bouncing. "What, the thought of giving a good dicking to a hot young thing like me wilt your willy? Maybe that's 'cause you and your wife both have secret--"

"Kristy!" Trudy gasped, eyes wide and mouth gaping. "What the hell? This is not how we discussed this!"

"Fuck." Kristy dropped her voice and her hands both. "I... sorry. I get a little... I don't always think about..."

Jon just shook his head, trying to figure out exactly when his life had become a giant joke. "Time to spell it out, you nutjobs. Start to finish, tell me what lunatic thing you have planned here, both of you. Plain talk, no hemming or hawing."

Trudy slowly shook her own head at Kristy, her disappointment being shouted in the act, then turned back to her husband, took a deep breath, and let it all out. "Kristy and I had sex three times. I love you with all my heart, and I want to stay married to you. To that end, I want you and Kristy to have sex. Three times." She took another gulp of air, then gave a small, hopeful smile. "Then, we start over. We... I fix what I did to us."

"Starting now?"

Trudy blinked. "Uh... sure?"

"Okay then."

In a flash, Jon reached out and took Kristy by her thin wrist, and the girl suddenly looked like she regretted letting her temper move her feet so close to the man. With a squawk, she followed along behind him, not pulling or fighting, but looking like she was shell-shocked the whole way to the master bedroom. They were both inside with the door closed behind them before she managed to formulate an actual word.

"Shit, man!"

Well, two words. The very essence of erudition.

"What, you all talk?" Jon loomed over the young, gawping woman, arms crossed and one brow raised expectantly. "You just got done telling me how you were gonna... what was it? Rock my goddamned world? Do kids your age even know what it means to put your money where your mouth--"

"Fuck yourself, dipshit." Kristy shook off her trepidations immediately, then, in one smooth motion, reached up and peeled off her loose t-shirt. Not stopping there, her bra was gone in less time than it took to mention it, and when the performance was done, she stood in front of him, hands on her hips, daring him to make another jab at her.

Holy shit. "Holy shit." Any barrier between Jon's brain and his mouth was gone in that instant.

"Nice, huh?" Kristy reached up and cupped her tits with both hands, and Jon could only stare in shock at the amount of excess flesh that was squeezed between her long fingers. "No one expects the skinny little Asian girl to be packing ballistics like these, and that t-shirt they make me wear is like goddamned camouflage."

She smirked then, and the look held more than its fair share of wickedness. "Can't count how many women's eyes I made pop when they saw 'em for the first time. Then the drooling starts, and they can't stop..." Her wicked grin faltered in the face of what she saw in Jon then. "I mean... I just, know how to... I got plenty... um, in the past, that is... plenty of practice..."

"Why are you doing this?" Jon's own bravado was rapidly fading as the reality he was so desperately trying to deny came roaring back with a vengeance. "Are you even Bi?"

Kristy suddenly found her foot fascinating, and began twisting it on the bedroom carpeting. "No. I'm not. I guess... I dunno." She finally peeked up at him, her pretty eyes veiled by her long, dark lashes. "I'm not a bad person, but I know what I did to you. I want you and Trudy to... to make it. She's talked about you and I know you're a... that you don't deserve..." She shrugged. "I need to be able to live with myself."

Jon looked behind him, as if he could see through the closed door and what was still out there. Then, squaring his shoulders, he took a step towards the woman his wife had fucked repeatedly. "I guess we're all crazy then."

Kristy, watching his hands come towards her inch-by-slow-motion-inch, appeared to be nodding without meaning to. When his fingers touched the button on her jeans, all she did was give a long, resigned groan and squeeze her eyes shut.

Jon was fine with that.

__________

Trudy had been in her favorite recliner for almost forty-five minutes, and honestly couldn't remember having sat down. To be fair, she wasn't really sitting, more like perching on the edge of the cushion while staring down the hall that contained her bedroom.

What that bedroom contained... well, she could only imagine.

He... he just did it. She was shaking her head, but then again, she had been pretty much the entire time. He didn't argue. He didn't protest. He didn't even try to set terms. He just... he took her.

"Hypocrisy, thy name is Trudy." The nervous little giggle that followed the muttered words was edged with enough mania that the nearly middle-aged philanderer clamped her lips tight to stop anything else that might have been waiting in the wings. She knew she'd not been totally prepared for the implications of her... plan. Hell, it was a scheme she'd barely convinced Kristy to be a part of before it was presented to the man they'd both wronged. How on the planet would she have had time to work through all the ins and outs?

"Didn't have to be so quick." That mutter didn't elicit a giggle, but did prompt her to put her face in her hands. "Fuck. What the hell was I think--"

"Aaaaahhh!"

The first sound Trudy heard coming from the bedroom shouldn't have been heard at all. Not from this distance. Not through a closed door. Eyes wide, her mild headshaking became a full-blown fit of denial for many long seconds before the door crashed open and a haggard-looking Kristy came stumbling out of the place she'd been pulled into a lifetime ago.

"Kris... you... what..." Trudy didn't know what she wanted to ask. She barely knew the words she was mumbling out like a drunkard... like the drunkard her lover appeared to be as well. The bistro girl had a haunted, detached look in her eye as she numbly fumbled at her clothing, ignoring her still-unbuttoned jeans in order to try to pull her t-shirt down to cover herself, and only managing to get the job half done. The undone half meant that one of the girl's so-pert, so-perfect boobs was still bouncing unhindered, open and bare to the word, because there wasn't a bra to be seen.

Nope. Nothing to hide the big, fresh, red hickey there on the wide, lower curve of that supple young titty.

"Kristy. Talk to me. Did... did I just screw things up even worse here?" Trudy, after internally slapping some coherency into herself, stood and faced the retreating young nymph who looked like a train wreck, with her vivid, spiky hair now matted and mussed.

"It's fine. It was fine. A-Okay. Everything's fan-fucking-tastic and a good old time was had by all." Finally conquering her outfit, Kristy managed to stop her sprint for the front door long enough to give Trudy a long look. "I'll... be in touch."

Once the door to her home was slammed hard enough to rattle the glass, Trudy spun and marched straight for her bedroom. Inside was her dear husband, sitting on the edge of their bed, naked as naked could be, seemingly unaware that his half-mast dick was still wet and glistening like some kind of bad porno. What the fuck can I even say right now?