Sprung Ch. 05

This is Alternative Ending #5 of 'Sprung'. It has the same beginning as 'Sprung 1 - 4, all the way down to 'Alternate Ending Number 5'. It stands alone. There's no sex and it isn't a complete ending. Use your imagination.

My public service gift to those struggling to start writing is an invitation. Grab any of the stories below you like and do what you will with them. Plagiarise the whole start and write your own ending. Steal one of the concepts and write your own words. Anything you like, just put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, and have fun. I desire no acknowledgement for this gift, although a private email to tell me how you enjoyed your writing and publishing experience would be nice.

If you're worried about your spelling or grammar, or if English isn't your first language, then feel free to send to me for proofreading. If I'm busy, my partner in crime, CTC, the best damn editor on the site, will muck in. We can do anything requested, from commenting on the story line, to shut-the-fuck-up-and-just-correct-the-spelling. Again, acknowledgement isn't required. JUST GET OFF YOUR ASSES AND START WRITING.

Many thanks to CTC for the edit and ideas.

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I looked for the last time at my reflection in the mirror. Could I do it? Could I really get away with this? Could the forty-year old, not beautiful but also not plain, housewife who has never done anything remotely like this, have one extramarital adventure with no repercussions at all?

I took in my reflection. The person looking back at me would have to walk the gauntlet past her totally clueless husband. Must appear exactly as described on the packet: a dutiful niece going to look after her frail aunt for the weekend, so her other aunt could have a break. There could be no sign of the woman who was using the story as a cover to meet another man for two nights of who only knew what in his remote cottage in the mountains.

For the last time, I looked for any holes in my cover story. Auntie June was indeed sickly and was getting looked after by my Auntie Peg. Both were widowed, Peg's husband having died last year. Aunt June's husband, Nicolas, had been killed in Vietnam in the late sixties and she'd never really gotten over it. She'd chosen to have his body cremated, buried the ashes in the backyard, and built a little shrine. Every visitor to the house was expected to go out and give their regards to Uncle Nick. Auntie Peg was indeed having a break from care this weekend, but June was being taken to Peg's son's house while his mum had a respite.

So, discovery methods to scupper my plans?

My husband, Dave, wasn't on friendly terms with Aunt Peg, so wouldn't speak to her to confirm or deny my story. I doubt he even had a number for her son. Aunt June had no fixed-line phone, so Dave couldn't be suspicious when I didn't answer it. So long as I always answered my cell in the next two days, I was fine.

Could Dave drop in to June's house unannounced? Impossible. A couple of hours after I left, he was going to the airport and flying out for a weekend business trip. Our two children my sister had already picked up to look after until we both returned on Sunday. His trip was a last-minute thing. Soothing a client who thought there was a huge problem with their mansion design when it was already half built. That wasn't unknown and no amount of explaining it over the phone allayed their fears. Dave was using the opportunity to stay on site and design the gardens surrounding the house. It would save him a trip later. If I'd known about the trip earlier, I may not have bothered to make such elaborate plans of my own and invited Michael here. No. Too risky. So, with the double surety of my planning and Dave's trip, I could not envision any scenario where my not being where I was supposed to be, with who I was supposed to be with, was discovered.

The doorbell rang, and I went to the bedroom door until I was sure who it was. It was my husband's PA, Julie, obviously dropping off last minute stuff for Dave's trip. She'd been with Dave for two years now and I knew Dave was sponsoring her through architecture school. He often described her as his perfect counterpoint, seeing all the things he didn't. He even dedicated the award he won last year to her.

Any other wife might have been jealous of a younger, trimmer, better looking, bigger boobed woman that spent almost as much time with their husband as they did, but they didn't know my Dave. He would be more likely to put his cock in a lion's mouth and yell, "Dinner time, kitty", than betray my trust. I trusted him exactly the way he trusted me. A roaring noise in my head accompanied that thought. I was using that trust to abuse that trust and the sudden realisation of that almost made my conscience make me abandon my plans. Forcibly thinking of Michael, only the second guy I'd have had in my bed, taking me while I was still wearing my suspender belt and stockings, my black cocktail dress in a discarded heap on the bedroom floor, stiffened my resolve until the moment passed.

Could there have been anything in my suitcase to give me away? I'd left it open on the bed all morning specifically to show Dave there was nothing inappropriate in it. All the clothes were consistent with my cover story. Sure, there was another bag locked in the trunk of my car, with my cocktail dress and other clothes in it, but as I had the only two keys for my car, all was good. The silky negligee, fancy stockings, and push-up bra with matching panties and suspender belt, had been purchased on the other side of town, with cash. The packaging and receipts were disposed of before reaching my car, and the offending items put straight in the trunk. As soon as Michael saw me wearing them, there was no chance of him chickening out on me. Besides, they made me look sexy, and my confidence needed all the help it could get if I was going to go all the way with this.

That reminded me. Appearance. Was it consistent with a wife going to look after her aging aunt? Let's see, skirt down to my knees, showing off my calves, conservative blouse. Modest make-up that could be touched up in the car before I got to the cottage. I had considered stopping somewhere to change into something sexier before getting there, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. No, meet Michael at the cabin, an hour in the opposite direction to my aunt's house. Shower and change into sexier clothes, out to the quiet restaurant Mick had told me about, then back to the cottage for dessert. I'd packed a second dress for Saturday night, but doubted it would be necessary.

I'd once done an adult education course in cooking. The first day we'd learnt that the first bite was with the eye. I hadn't planned to wear any jewellery apart from my wedding rings, but looking at myself critically, I needed something else. Opening my jewellery box, I chose my current favourite necklace. Was it consistent with the trip? A little over the top maybe, but it helped my confidence so stayed in place. I undid the top two buttons on my blouse and leaned towards the mirror. The necklace complimented my cleavage, far and away my major asset, perfectly. Yes, it was worth the risk.

So, cover story good, nothing suspicious packed, nothing about my appearance to give me away. Was it worth reviewing the precautions Michael was taking with his wife. No. That was much simpler. He was going to their cabin as he did regularly to de-stress. His wife was flying out with their kids Saturday to visit her mum in the next state. All good.

Only one difficult thing remained to do. Getting past Dave and out the front door. Somehow me and my conscience had to make the trip without giving anything away.

No, Dave was always going to be the problem. How would the woman in the mirror feel when he looked at her? When he told her he loved her? Maybe, when he again told her what a lovely person she was for doing what she was doing. Some of it I could cover by avoiding eye contact. I practiced once again in the mirror, arranging my features in a neutral expression. I'd already begun saying goodbye. A passing hug, kiss, and squeeze of Dave, and I was out of there and on the way to my once-in-a-lifetime adventure. A two-day sabbatical from being a good mother and wife. Did I need to run through my justifications to myself again? No. I'd done all that when the decision was made. I'd convinced myself of that absolutely. Otherwise, there was no chance of looking Dave in the eye in five minute's time.

For strength, I let my mind wander down memory lane a little. I was a standard stay-at-home mum until our youngest, Jenny, started full-time school. Then I started work for a temp agency and did secretarial work where needed. Sometimes, I insisted I could only work between nine and three, so I could drop the kids off and pick them up. Others, I worked later, and Dave altered his hours to leave earlier in the morning, so he could pick them up. After Jenny went off to high school at twelve, I went back to work full-time as we'd decided. I was an intelligent, twenty-first century woman that needed to keep her brain active. I'd picked up my previous career, as a legal secretary, in short order and started with one of the biggest firms in town. That was nine months ago. Dave was home not much later than the kids most days.

One of the senior corporate lawyers was Michael. There had been an instant connection between us. You know the thing, when you feel like you knew each other in a past life. In fact, I'd joked along those lines to him at our first meeting. He'd said that he had once believed in reincarnation, but that was in his last life. His humour was just one of the things that attracted me. He was big and handsome, slightly younger than I, intelligent and quick. I learned about him slowly at first, when we just happened to be in the lunch room together. That pace quickened a little after I regularly chose to eat when I saw him heading there. It got to the point where I felt a little thrill every time I saw him. That thrill had been missing from my interactions with Dave for some time.

I began to suspect that Michael felt the same way when I caught him checking I was at my desk before walking past me with his lunch. From then on, we shared lunch every day and I discovered that in many respects we were a perfect match. Apart from the fact that we were both happily married with young families, that is.

One day, we were alone in the break room when his hand accidentally brushed mine. It was electric. I knew it and he knew it. We put our heads together and made plans to slip out separately the next day for an extended lunch, way on the other side of town. Before we went, I ascertained where Dave was, and Mick did the same for his wife. We did that at least once a week from two months ago until now. Starting four weeks ago, we'd retired to his car, with its tinted windows and kissed. Starting two weeks ago, we'd planned to get away together this weekend. Now.

Don't get me wrong, we aren't in love or anything like that. You see, part of our discussions were how sexually inexperienced we were when we married and how, after many years of marriage, we were just a little bored. The sexual tension we felt whenever we were together just threw us both back to when we were young and free. Neither of us discussed what would happen after this weekend. I, for one, was intending for it to be a one-time thing, but was wise enough to know I had a problem on my hands if it turned out to be so fantastic I wanted a repeat.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was time to go. Deep breath, Sarah. This is the hard part and should be over in minutes. Sure, you'll probably feel guilty when you see Dave on Sunday, but that's all right. By then you'll know it's all in the past and you will devote the rest of your life to making this fine man happy. Grabbing my small suitcase, I walked into the lounge. Dave was sitting on the couch, staring at a large framed photo that hung above the fireplace. Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

******

ALTERNATE ENDING #5: BTB Rating 2

Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around. He was a little distracted, judging by the expression on his face. Probably thinking about a work problem. That helped. He rose as I walked towards him, that allowed me to make eye contact with him as little as possible. The rest was prevented by my hugging him. He returned my hug, then pushed me to arms-length and looked me square in the face, his expression still neutral.

"I'll cancel my trip, if you cancel yours, Sarah. We won't tell your sister and have a whole weekend in bed, just like the old days, huh?"

I pulled him in for another hug.

"It's way too late for that, darling. Have a good trip, Dave, I'll see you Sunday night."

Averted eye, peck on cheek, about face, walk to door, pick up suitcase, straight out door, shaking slightly from the released tension.

I got lost a couple of times on the way to the cabin and arrived at about 5:30. Michael showed me the master bedroom and shower. Of course, he wanted some hanky-panky straight away, but I managed to shoo him off and have a solo shower. I'd brought the dress and choice of lingerie into the bathroom. After I was dry, I decided on which of the undergarments to wear, finally choosing the shelf bra with matching suspender belt. I started putting the panties on, then thought, 'what the hell', and left them off. I heard the locked door rattle but held my ground. I wanted him to see this imperfect, forty-year-old, mother-of-two body for the first time in its best light. Preferably, when we got back from the restaurant, tipsy and with the lights down low. I put the black cocktail dress on, adjusted my cleavage, finished off my hair, and ventured out.

Michael wanted to ravish my lips, but I turned so his lips landed on my cheek to preserve my make-up. When I felt the cool night air, I returned to put on the light coat I'd brought. We jumped in my car, less well known to the locals than his, and headed off.

The restaurant was out of the way and quite classy. Most of the tables were for two and discreetly placed for maximum privacy. We were seated, ordered cocktails, wine, and meals, then settled in to build the sexual tension. I could tell Michael almost came in his pants when his exploring fingers discovered I was panty-free and freshly shaved. His voice was husky as he told me his wife refused to shave for him. It was obvious to the passing wait-staff where his hand was, so I reluctantly removed it. Instead, after a look around to see no one was looking, I dipped two of my own fingers into my own dripping sex, then held them under his nose. His nostrils flared before his tongue flicked out for a lick. I love receiving oral sex, so it almost made me cum there and then. I hadn't been this excited in years. That's why I was doing this, after all.

We stopped our play when we saw the waiter coming over with our entrees; Oysters Kilpatrick, of course. I excused myself to go and wash my hands. Out of habit, I took my handbag. As I was drying my hands, my cell phone rang with Dave's ringtone. This was going to be uncomfortable.

"Hello, Dave. I arrived okay. Sorry for not telling you."

What I heard, in a tone of near panic, shook me my roots.

"Jenny's been hurt, Paul and I are following the ambulance to the hospital. Can you..."

The connection was suddenly lost. I was in blind panic mode. My baby was hurt. How bad I hadn't a clue, but parents always fear the worst. I sprinted back to the table and shouted at a bewildered Michael.

"I have to go, now, my baby has been hurt."

I grabbed my coat just as Michael rose.

"I'll come with you."

"Don't be a bloody fool. Your car is at the cabin. I don't know when I'll be able to drop you back. Besides, it will cost us minutes to settle the bill. Catch a taxi back to the cabin. Bye."

With that, I dashed out to my car and burnt rubber getting to the highway and home. When my overbeating heart had settled slightly, I realised I had two problems. I didn't know which of the three hospitals Jenny was headed to, but, whichever one it was, I was going to turn up dressed totally inappropriately for looking after an aunt. I would just have to keep my coat on, whatever the circumstances. I tried to ring Dave's cell to solve the first problem, but it responded like it was engaged. I was in such a panic that an important question never arose.

Why wasn't Dave on an aeroplane where he should be?

Using the speed limit as a reference only, I ploughed on into the setting sun.

******

Perspective Change to Michael

I sat there, pissed off. Then I cut Sarah a little slack. I would have done the same if the call was from my wife, Laura. I hoped her kid was all right. My mind shied away from thoughts of children. They were an unpleasant reminder that I was intending to shaft another human being, her husband, in the worst way possible, and a reminder, also, of my own wife and children, forgotten and deceived at home.

Family and guilt compartmentalised, the next big question was whether to stay to eat or not. The only upside to this whole frustrating mess was that I got a full dozen oysters. I called the waiter over, cancelled Sarah's main, and tucked in with the tiny fork they give you. My peripheral vision saw a guy approaching but it wasn't until he pulled out Sarah's vacant chair that I took much notice.

"Who the hell are you?"

He just gave me a tired smile.

"I'm not well versed in the etiquette of such things, but wouldn't it be polite to know the husband of the woman you're fucking?"

Oh, shit. This was Sarah's husband, and he was a lot bigger than me and either worked out or had a very physical job. I stood ready to escape. He just half rose, grabbed my forearm and bent it until I had no choice but to sit back down. This was probably going to end in a beating for me, one way or another, so I sought to minimise the anger this guy must be feeling. It might also reduce the chances of him telling my wife as well. The thought of her finding out sent chills down my spine.

"Correction, woman I was going to fuck."

"What?"

"Future tense. Sarah and I have never actually had sex. All we've done is had lunch together a few times and made out in my car. Granted, we were maybe going to do it this weekend, but nothing was certain."

He stared at me, trying to judge my honesty. I bet he was a good poker player. His face certainly gave nothing away. He stared at me silently. Forgetting all my training, I spoke to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"I'm sorry, man, but I'm a single guy, and your wife is a real fox, we just clicked..."

The guy reached over and grabbed my wrist again. He twisted it and despite me rolling my arm as much as I could, it still felt like it was going to break at the elbow. He looked around to see if anyone was looking, then hissed.

"That was your last lie, shithead. Wife; Laura. Children; Peter, John, and Mary. Nice house on Sunrise Drive. Sound familiar?"

The chills in my spine became red hot flames. This guy had the power to destroy everything that was important in my life. Sure, he'd need evidence of my affair with an office junior to get me fired, but not much to wreck my marriage. I turned and looked at the wall next to the table. It was glass. All I could see from the inside was my own reflection. That meant there were no lights outside and anyone standing in the dark would have a clear view, from potentially very close range, at any recent behaviours at this table. Oh shit! I looked at the guy across from me, who'd just seen where I was looking and must know what was going through my head. He smiled. Why had I not thought of any of the implications of being caught earlier? I'd never thought of myself as arrogant before, but I'd just proven myself wrong.