Open House (Full Version)

Despite a bit of excitement as she thought about her upcoming "date," she wondered if this was how her life was going to play out. Although she didn't revert completely to her "Easy Andi" persona, she had her moments over the past several months. For better or worse, she decided to keep a journal, and she paged through it, both embarrassed and admittedly somewhat turned on by some of her entries.

She counted a total of five dates, using the term loosely. They were basically booty calls, coordinated through a variety of illicit hookup sites. Although the first couple were incredibly exciting excursions into debauchery, she found that she was becoming mired in the law of diminishing returns, and the last two failed to satisfy her both physically and emotionally. If "Easy Andi" disappeared, what would be left for her, she wondered.

Despite that, she left the cold, empty home at dusk and began her nearly twenty mile drive en route to a location she used a couple of times before – a secluded parking lot behind an abandoned shopping mall. Several months ago, the prospect of an anonymous rendezvous would have had her unsnapping her slacks and touching while driving there, but tonight was different for some reason. Although she still found herself masochistically wanting to be "used" and to please her dates, the sensation was duller than ever before, and again she found herself once again desperately missing Bob and her prior vanilla life.

She knew that her desire to please wasn't totally out of her system, but she also realized that this high-risk trajectory could eventually get her hurt, or even killed. Fortunately, the previous men – despite their welcomed kinks – were married professionals with a great deal to lose if caught. Tonight's date was an exception, and she conceded that she knew very little about the man she was driving to meet.

Andrea made it to the halfway point before pulling into a convenience store parking lot. Realizing that she was shaking, she was overcome with a premonition that something bad was going to happen. Coincidentally at nearly the exact time that Bob was completing his prayer across town, she folded her hands, lowered her head and also said a silent prayer, asking for guidance, but already knowing what she needed to do. Although "Andi" wanted to continue, "Andrea's" rational self ultimately won out. Lifting her head, she pulled out of the lot, reversing course to return home, relieved yet somewhat unfulfilled.

Ten miles further down the road, the parolee waited impatiently for his victim. Sitting at the far end of the deserted lot in a "borrowed" car, he sipped from a half-empty bottle of Thunderbird and rubbed his bulge with a grimy hand. The longer she made him wait, the more she would be punished, he decided. The thought of hurting her only fueled his lust, and he unzipped, his breathing now nearly uncontrollable as he fantasized about the pain that she was about to endure. He waited in the darkness for nearly an hour past their planned meeting time before realizing that he was being stood up. Shit! Lucky woman, he thought as he put the car in gear and drunkenly pulled out of the lot, narrowly missing a fire hydrant as he fishtailed down the road.

CHAPTER FIVE – At long last, Secrets Are Revealed

Bob's week dragged on, and he found himself merely going through the motions at the office as he thought back to the strange interactions with Rosa/Valerie. On Thursdays, he usually began to plan his upcoming weekend open house visits, but he was determined to take at least one or two weekends off, based on his possible near-death experience from the week before. Instead of perusing the classifieds, he felt himself drawn for some reason to the guitar case as if it was beckoning him. He pulled his sweatshirts and coats off the old case and sat down, placing it across his lap. What memories this simple act conjured up, from his lessons as a young student to his awkward strumming at the Christian camp where he first met Andrea.

He took a deep breath and released the rusted clasps, opening the dusty case. Setting it down on its base, he reached in to pull out his old reliable acoustic guitar. He popped open the inside pouch, looking for a pick. Instead, a sealed envelope dropped to the floor. Putting the guitar down, he fumbled with the mysterious envelope, wondering how long it had been stored there. Setting it aside for the time being, he pulled his old notes & hand-written chord charts from the case, including an unfinished song that he intended to sing to Andrea for her thirtieth birthday more than a decade ago. Had it been that long since he even opened the case, he wondered?

He picked up the old guitar and started playing, not caring that it was horribly out of tune. As he strummed, he looked at the envelope, which seemed to be beckoning him. No longer able to avoid it, he picked it up and turned it over. It was addressed simply, "to Robert". How long had it been hidden in that case, he wondered? He leaned the guitar against the recliner and took a few steps into the kitchen to grab a beer. Something told him he would need it.

Sitting back down, he fumbled with the envelope as he took a big sip. Finally, he slid a finger under the corner and opened it, pulling out a card as well as a handwritten page dated nearly six months earlier. Nervously, he chugged his beer and wandered back into the kitchen to grab another before dropping down into his recliner. The front of the card was mostly blank, with a simple phrase, "I'm so sorry" in small font at the lower right corner. Opening it, Robert read the note, single-spaced in cursive:

Robert, if you're reading this it means we are no longer together. It probably won't matter to you at this point, but there are some things that you should know about me – things that I should have shared with you long before I made the single biggest mistake of my life. Well, here goes – you may want to sit down with a shot or a beer, because it's time for me to finally bare my soul to you, the love of my life, and my best friend over the past twenty years.

When I saw you for the first time at the Christian camp, I wondered if someone like you could ever find someone like me to be attractive. By that time I was completing the process of reinventing myself as the good wholesome Christian woman that you thought I was. I knew that if anyone was aware of my past, they would dismiss me as a sinner – a slut, and for good reason. In reality, that's what I WAS, at least through most of my teens. You fell in love with a wholesome, naïve teen, but the truth is that I was anything BUT that over a span of four or five years. I won't go into the gory details, but imagine the worst sexual sins that you can, and your supposedly virtuous wife has probably done even worse than that, not just once, but as often as she could. As I write this, I realize that deep down I miss that part of me, and I hate myself for it, but it's the harsh truth and I will have to live with it.

I know that if I can't forgive myself for that side of me, I could never ask YOU to fogive me. The horrible truth is that I'm probably much closer to the person that I hid than the person I wanted you to think I was. None of that changes how I felt about you, or how I still feel about you. You are and always will be the love of my life. I miss you. I miss your friendship and your companionship, and I miss the person that I tried to be when I was with you. You are a good man who deserves to find a good woman. As much as it hurts me to say it, my hope is that you find her and can be happy.

With all my love and regret,

Andi

Stunned, Robert read through it a few more times. How was she able to suppress her desires for so long, and how would he have reacted long ago if he had known? Although his past wasn't nearly as sinful as hers, he realized that he wasn't the man that he only pretended to be for her. Would he have given her a chance, had he known about her past indiscretions? As he continued to read through the letter, he experienced a myriad of emotions, from regret to shock, and everything in between. What he DIDN'T feel, however, was revulsion.

What type of relationship would they have built if they had just been honest with each other in the first place? Could he accept her as she was? Her words, "You are a good man who deserves to find a good woman," stood out, and he realized that he was just as deceptive as she was. Was he really a good man, he wondered? Would a good man masturbate in front of a stranger in a vacant home? Would a good man fuck that same woman on a porch, letting his cock be his guide? Would a good man fantasize about his soon-to-be ex-wife and her past indiscretions?

The thought of her, his conservative Christian wife, in a variety of compromising positions fueled his lust once again as he abandoned all thoughts of being the "good" man. He unzipped and again thought back to Andrea, or was she now going by "Andi?" He wondered, how many men – or even women – had she been with before him? Did she ever take on more than one person at a time? He realized that his disgust wasn't aimed at her and her past, it was self-directed.

He now understood that he wanted – correct that, NEEDED – to live vicariously through her, and he hoped that her past was as slutty as she hinted. It took him only a few minutes before he released. He surprised himself by remaining hard as the thoughts continued to flood his mind. He envisioned her at the Christian camp as a naïve nineteen year old, engaged in a hot sixty-nine with her bunkmate. He again flashed to her on her knees with the young, hung cable guy and fantasized that there were two or even three of his co-workers surrounding her. His fantasies were now out of control and he found himself cumming yet again.

Now spent, he cleaned up and reached for his beer. Finishing it, he glanced at his watch, briefly considering calling her until he realized that it might be too late on a Sunday night. "Fuck it," he thought as he texted her instead –

"Hi – I know it's late- finally found your card. Can we talk?"

The response – "OMG – Hi – Yes - call me"

Bob took a deep breath. His hand shook as he hit "call."

"Hi," she answered, meekly.

"Hi Andrea... um, I know it's late, I um... opened my guitar case tonight. I guess I told you I found your letter," he stammered.

"Yeah, about that," Andrea said. "It was really hard to write, knowing you would probably hate me for what I confessed. Do you... hate me?"

"Um, well... It WAS a shock, but...can I confess something too?"

"I guess so, if you want to," Andrea said, nervous to hear what was coming.

"You wrote that I'm a 'good man,' and it was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me - but um... you're probably going to hate me... here goes - would a 'good man' be turned on knowing that the love of his life had a secret past?"

"I don't understand," she said quietly.

"Well, never mind, Andrea. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Robert... You called me for a reason. Are you saying that you don't hate me for what I've been hiding from you?"

"Well, it's more complicated than that, and I guess I'm embarrassed to admit it," Bob said quietly after a long pause.

"It's ok, Robert. I mean, at this point, what do we have to lose?"

"True. Well, here goes. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, I think I might like the 'You' that you confessed to be."

"How exactly do you mean that you 'like' that part of me," she asked.

"Let's just say, I'm not the person you THOUGHT I was either."

"How do you mean, Robert?"

He took a big sip before getting up the nerve, finally saying, boldly, "It turns me on to know that you have done things. There, I said it."

"It does? "

"Yeah, it really does, a lot."

Silence.

"Say something, Andrea. Tell me what you're thinking – that I'm a horrible person."

"I could, but that would be a lie, Robert. Are you... turned on now?" she asked.

"Totally, I admit it," he confessed.

"I kind of am too, to be honest," Andrea said as she quietly slid a hand into her pajama bottoms.

Bob smiled to himself, quietly saying, "Who ARE you and what did you do with Andrea?"

As she rubbed her pussy through wet panties, Andrea responded, "I'm the slut that you married, Robert."

She heard a groan on the other end, as Robert's breathing became heavier. Both quietly played separately and the phone went quiet for nearly a minute. Neither could believe what was happening, nor could they stop the momentum at this point.

Andrea broke the silence, whispering, "Are you playing with your nice hard cock?"

"Guilty. Are you...touching yourself too?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you are."

"You're right. I'm so wet. I wish you could be here to taste me."

"Well, it's only a twenty minute drive... it's up to you," he said.

"Stay on the phone while you're driving. If you want, I'll tell you about some of the guys who fucked your Christian wife," she said boldly.

He stroked his cock harder, saying, "I want you to tell me EVERYTHING, Andrea."

"Ok. I will Love, but could you do me a favor? Call me 'Andi' from now on."

THE END