Red Roses Ch. 04 - Yellow Roses

The kids were easy to take care of—not that I thought that I could buy them off but just spending better quality time with them would ease the month of me being distant. They'd been eager and excited to have me put them to bed, so they weren't locking me out.

I laughed to myself. I felt as though I was coming out of a fog. Everything seemed so clear and obvious now.

That left Justin.

In cases of affairs—even emotional ones—some spouses wanted to track their partners' every move, or dog their social media. We already had all of each other's passwords, which didn't really matter in this case, since I'd had all my contact with Tim in person, at the office. I decided to offer advanced scrutiny to Justin if he wanted but I didn't think he'd take it. He always told me that if you didn't trust someone, you didn't trust them and I could already hear him saying I was smart enough to circumvent his snooping if I really wanted to. I'd also offer to take a polygraph if he wanted me to, though he was skeptical of their validity.

Otherwise, all I could do was just be there for him and try to restore our intimacy. As I thought about it, I realized I missed it to. I'd been so caught up in Tim and work that I hadn't before but now, I really wanted to be in my husband's arms. Of course, that was probably the last place he wanted me.

I noticed him looking at me again. The anger was gone. Now, he only came across as disappointed and it broke my heart all over again. Sadness boiled out of my midsection but I warded it off, thinking, No, Trish. You don't get to cry right now.

I rose from my chair, took two steps, and knelt by him. I took his hand between mine and to my relief, he let me. "Justin, if there is anything in my power I can do to win back your trust, I will."

He sipped his drink, and gave me another sad smile. "We'll see."

#

In the end, it turned out to be both easier and harder than I expected.

I called Kathy the next morning and told her I would not be able to come in that day. I explained the situation and left nothing out. I could tell she was disappointed in me—not only for my personal failing but for putting the firm behind the curve. Kathy reluctantly agreed to take up me working from home when we returned from our post-filing-day downtime. As we talked, I realized that my tenure with the company was probably living on borrowed time. I decided to start looking for another job, just to keep my options open.

Things with Mason and Tabitha went about as expected. With my renewed focus on my family, we resumed our loving relationships. I had a difficult moment when Mason asked me about "that man I was touching." He blurted that one of his friends at school lost his daddy when his daddy hugged someone other than his mommy. I explained it as well as I could to his six-year-old mind and made sure to reassure him that I did love his daddy, and that I wasn't leaving. Over time, he seemed to believe that. Tabitha was just happy to have me paying attention to her again.

I didn't sugarcoat things with anyone. I told our parents and our close friends. I wanted them all to know that even though Justin and I were going through a tough time, it was me and not Justin who had put us there. I thought I owed him that. My folks both expressed disappointment in me; Mom said I was lucky Justin loved me so much and I agreed with her. Justin's dad didn't say very much. His mom gave me a hug, told me mistakes were made, but that she loved me and she was glad I had stepped back from the precipice. Our friends' reactions ranged from relieved, to mad at me, to hopes that we'd be okay. Jan managed to capture all three, calling me a brain-dead bitch before hugging me and letting me I know she and Marty were there for both of us.

I only spoke to Tim one last time. The Saturday after it all broke, I was at home with the kids. Justin was out with his dad. I'd just fixed them a snack and settled in with them play a board game when the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone. It turned out to be a flower delivery: a bouquet of a dozen yellow roses. I flipped open the card, which read:

I'm sorry.

- Tim

Three minutes later, my phone rang. I pulled up the recording app on the phone, started it, and—with some trepidation—answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, Trish." Tim's voice drifted through the line. "The service sends me a text when the flowers are delivered."

"Tim, don't send me flowers."

"I found out yellow roses are for friendship. That's all I wanted, was to be your friend."

I sighed. "Tim, I can't be your friend. I won't. Our relationship was very inappropriate, and disrespectful to my family."

"But—"

I let a little anger slide into my voice, glad to have an outlet. "By the way, I looked up Eskrima. It's a martial art from the Philippines, not Thailand, and it involves a lot of stick-and-knife fighting, not throws. Did you think I was stupid enough not to figure that out?"

He was silent.

"Don't call me again." I hung up and blocked the number. Was I justified in getting snappish with him? Maybe not. My marital problems were mine, not his. Did it feel good? Hell, yes.

I left the flowers on the counter and went back to the kids. Tabitha asked, "Are those from Daddy?"

"No, from nobody important," I said. It felt good, because it was the truth.

Justin got home a little later. He spied the flowers on the counter. "Let me guess. Lover boy?"

His words stung but I stayed calm. I held up the phone and played back the conversation. Justin listened without comment. When it was over, I said, "I want to throw them out."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't want you to think I was hiding anything."

Justin looked at me a moment, nodded, and said, "Okay." He left the kitchen without another word.

As I suspected, Justin was the hard part. I tried to put myself in his shoes. No matter how much I was I tried to reassure him, I was sure that there would always be a sliver of his mind that wondered if I didn't step over the line with Tim. It's very hard to prove a negative; in other words, when it came to convincing him it didn't happen, I could only do so much. So instead, I tried to make sure Justin knew he would be better off with me than without me. I didn't become a sycophant and fawn over him. I knew Justin and knew that acting like a pushover would make his tenuous respect for me waver even more. When it came to things like disagreements over him wanting to get the kids a dog (we didn't) and then him wanting to take the kids fishing in a dinky aluminum boat (he did, though with life vests), I voiced my opinion and made sure I was heard.

When it came to doing, however, I assumed my share of the load and then some. Things hadn't worked out with Kathy and we reluctantly parted ways. With me having more time at home, I became the primary cook and cleaner. I don't know if I was truly happy in the full domestic role. I know I spent a lot of time building my career and I regretted letting it fall apart. But the situation wasn't awful and it gave me much more time with Mason and Tabitha. It also gave me a chance to do a few things for Justin, to show him how much he meant to me. When his birthday approached, I was able to contact his favorite author and get a personalized, signed book for him. I took his car and got it detailed, just because I could. I came to the shower almost daily and washed his back for him.

Odd as it was, he tried to do the same thing. As I demonstrated my love for him, he started to do little things for me too. He'd take care of the dishes without being asked. He made the long drive to a wine specialty shop on the far side of Atlanta to surprise me with a label I really liked. All that made me love him even more. Our interactions got easier and before long, the companion and partner parts of our relationship were as they had been before, or even better.

When it came to our sex life, I wasn't sure what would happen. I was eager, since I thought it would help bring us closer. Yes, I get the hypocrisy, of wanting him after sidelining our love life for weeks. Still, we weren't going to fix it any other way than getting back in the saddle. He was a little more reticent, like he was afraid I was trying to fuck him into forgetting—which (I won't lie) I would have if he'd have let me. But I understood his hesitation. I simply let him know I was interested, but that he should take his time and I was available. A couple weeks passed and despite our improving ease around each other, I was getting anxious. Not just because we were going on two months but I was worried that he wasn't interested in me as a sexual partner any more. The thought hurt but I told myself to be patient and to give him his space.

The first time was interesting. The kids were in bed and I was at the counter, wrapping up the leftovers from dinner. Justin walked into the kitchen. I thought he was getting a drink or something and didn't pay any attention. So I was pretty surprised when one hand suddenly snaked around my neck and grabbed my chin. Not painfully but firm. The other circled my waist. "Justin, what—"

"Who told you to talk?" He spun me around and pushed my face to the surface of the open counter between the kitchen and the dining room.

"What are you doing?" I said, squirming.

"You want to act like a tramp? Is that it?"

I started to rise, "What? No, I—"

I'd worn a tanktop and a mid-calf-length skirt that day. Since the confrontation, I hadn't worn low-cut tops or miniskirts. I didn't want Justin to think I was trying to seduce him by dressing like a slut but I aimed for feminine, with clothes that highlighted my body without showing a lot of skin. I just wanted to remind him that I was a woman. His woman.

Justin planted one hand in my back, holding me down. His other hand flipped the folds of my skirt and yanked my panties aside. Cool air blew through my legs and I started trembling. I heard the zipper of his jeans and a second later, the hot hard head of his cock ground against my labia. I tensed and covered my mouth with my hand. Justin slammed his hips against my ass and his dick stabbed inside. I whimpered into my fingers. I'd had a fleeting thought that I was going to be too dry and that it might be painful but my body responded and in a flash, my pussy was flooded.

Justin began long, hammering strokes, plunging the entire length of his cock into me. It was so forceful my feet came off the floor. My hands scrambled for purchase. I gripped the far edge of the counter, hung on for dear life as my husband ravaged me. Each stroke brought a small cry from me. His cock felt bigger than ever and I reveled in every thrust, every pulse of pleasure. I squeezed my pelvic muscles and caught a lusty snarl from him, which brought a savage bliss to my heart.

He bent over me. "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours, baby. Just yours."

Justin smashed his body into mine. His hand grabbed my hair and wrenched my head back. It was so reminiscent of our first role-playing encounter that I came on the spot. My hips tensed and I moaned and shook as the orgasm speared through me, reducing my limbs to jelly.

My husband fucked me right through my climax. He growled in my ear. "You like that, slut? You imagining that's lover boy's cock in you?"

"No, it's you, it's all you, baby," I panted. Tears of joy at our rediscovered passion leaked from my eyes. Or maybe I was just enjoying the fucking so much that I got emotional. Probably both. It was all I could do not to babble. "Only you, now and forever. You take it. Take that pussy. Show it who's boss. Fuck me!"

Sadly, it was short. I think it was just too raw, too intense, and it had been too long. Justin's cock swelled and I mentally urged him on. A second later, he froze and groaned. His cock throbbed and pulsed as he emptied into me. He sagged, breathing hard. I fought for breath along with him. And I could not get the grin off my face.

He rested against me as his cock withered and finally pulled out. I felt the tickle of his cum running out of me and down my leg but I didn't care. I waited until he had backed away before I pushed myself upright and faced him.

Justin looked away from me, clearly a little embarrassed. "Trish, I'm sorry. I know that was too rough and you don't always like that. I just saw you there and—"

I stepped close and wrapped my arms around him. "Shh. I love you." I kissed him, soft and gentle. He gathered me in a strong hug—more tightly than he had in months.

I broke down and cried like a baby in his arms. He carried me to bed. We had sex twice more that night. A hard fuck session and a gentle lovemaking one. I fell asleep more happy and confident than I had in weeks.

It got easier after that. Our intimacy picked back up. Since the bottle was uncorked and genie was out, I found I was happy making him happy. I tried to seek him out and give him a no-strings blowjob at least once a week. More often than not, it turned into a frantic fuck session, and since I was still wearing skirts mostly, he took to surprising me with a hand under the cloth and rubbing me until I came—usually in the kitchen. When I asked, he said always thought about fucking me when he saw the counter. I was okay with it.

He also developed a keen interest in anal and wanted it more often, and usually accompanied that with calling me his slut and whore and other things. I noticed his insistence coincided when he was dwelling on "Tim incident," as I'd taken to calling it in my mind. I think in his subconscious, he looked at sliding his rod up my ass as punishing me. I snickered at that; anal play had always been part of our sex life right from the beginning and I liked it just fine. I was sure he didn't really want to hurt me, since he still lubed up whenever he did it. I'm also certain that if he paid attention to my passionate cries, he would have known I didn't feel punished at all. I didn't care about the words out of his mouth; out of bed and most times in bed, he still treated me like a treasure. Truth be told, saying I was his wanton whore while he was deep in my ass was pretty hot and I start agreeing with him, begging him to ram me harder while I fingered myself. We both usually had titanic orgasms. After a few months, his desire to "punish" me tapered off and anal went back to being a once-in-a-while thing.

I even broached the subject of reviving our old habit of leaving a single red rose taped where he could find it, when I really wanted to be ravaged. Justin said I could if I wanted, though the glint in his eye told me he was interested. The first time, I shuffled the kids to his parents' house on a Friday afternoon and left the rose on the front door. When he came in the bedroom, he found me blindfolded and my arms strapped to the bed—at least, as good a strap-job as I could manage in the ninety seconds since I'd seen him pull in the driveway. Let's just say his reaction was what I'd hoped for. We fucked so much and so hard I couldn't wear underwear when we went to pick up the kids. Everything was too sore.

Ever so slowly, over time, things got better. I considered myself lucky. I'd flirted with fire and only gotten singed, not scorched.

Without Justin asking me to, I saw a counselor to figure out how I'd been so careless. She was a nice woman, who put me at ease. I told her everything. She basically reinforced what Jan had said: next time you're feeling like that, talk to your husband, you fool, before you do something stupid again. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. I knew I'd never get in that situation again.

#

I slumped across my sweaty husband, my face laying cheek-to-cheek with his. His hands gently massaged my hips. I rotated my groin, grinding my crotch against him. His cock was still in me.

Mason and Tabitha were with Justin's mom and dad for the weekend, leaving us plenty of time to play. I'd banned clothes for Saturday and even though it was only early afternoon, we were on our third session of the day.

I raised my head and gazed down at him. He smiled and looked me in the eye. "I love you, Trish. You know that right."

"I know," I said, grinning. I loved hearing it and would never take it for granted again. "I love you too. More than you will ever know."

"I believe you."

"So ..." I hesitated, biting my lip. "Are we okay now?"

He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. I don't think I'll forget but yes, I think we're okay."

"I don't want to forget." I slid my arms around his head and clutched him to me. "I want to remember, so it never happens again."

He touched my face. "That's fine. In a way, this has been good for me too."

"How do you figure?"

"The more I thought about it, the more I concluded that this kind of thing really can sneak up on you." His eyes had a faraway look. "You remember Rod Geitz? Guy I used to play softball with? He spent a lot of time with a new woman from his office. Called her his 'work-wife' and everything. Six months later, they were having an affair. Destroyed his family, and hers."

I shivered.

"I remember him saying he hadn't meant to, that it had sneaked up on him until he thought he was in love with her. I remember thinking that was the result of all those lunches, long hours, after-hour drinks, and business trips. He didn't see it coming. They say wise people learn from the mistakes of others. I saw how easy it happened to him, then you. Knowing that, I think I'll be cognizant of these situations. I never want to go down that road either."

"I do love you, baby." I kissed him again.

He smiled. "Ditto. Now, I think it's time to hit the shower. All I can smell is sex."

I laughed and shifted off him. Justin stood, stretched, and headed to the bathroom. I watched his ass and sighed as a sense of contentment settled over me. Even though I'd toed the line—my personal event horizon—I hadn't crossed it. My integrity was tarnished but not shattered. Justin and I had our scars but we still had our marriage and our family and that was all that mattered to me.

I heard the muted rush of the shower turn on and the curtain slide back. I smirked, wondering how long it would be before he was ready to go again. With the right encouragement, Justin was sometimes able to get back up within a few minutes of coming.

A sly grin crossed my face. I got up and headed in. A shower blowjob might be just the right encouragement indeed.

END

I never seriously considered letting someone have a physical affair here. I've had too much fun letting these characters build their romance and lives together. I believe someone can blunder into an emotional affair far more easily. In this story's case, I think a character didn't fully cross the line but rather just lost their good sense for a while.

And I've got at least one more story in mind for Justin and Trish, which will switch back to Justin's perspective.

Thank you for reading!