Sprung Ch. 12

For those of you that provided feedback, even negative, on the previous two Sprung endings. Thank you. I do appreciate that.

Since this one is longer than either of the other two, I'm going to give a very short preview, so no one wastes their time on something they won't enjoy. Having said that, this is NOT a RaaC. While Sarah does have her affair and is punished harshly, this is NOT a BtB either.

This story focuses on how Sarah handles her punishment, and her struggle to put her life back together afterwards, given that everyone knows about her affair. I'm trying to give more of her side after the fact/affair, since most stories focus on the husband's view. She does regain SOME of her life back, which I'm sure will cause some readers to say she wasn't punished enough (not burned). This story isn't for you.

Like previously, I've left the beginning intact. If you remember it, or enough of it, you can skip to where I say, "Alternate Ending S12", which is where my ending will begin.

Thank you in advance.

J

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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 to 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 #12: Mexican Whorehouse Edition

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 haven't given you one of those 2-hour massages in years. You know we have a twentieth anniversary in the not-too-distant future. We could begin to make plans for that."

It sounded like he was pleading. It gave me a moment's pause. I almost considered staying home. Almost. I pulled him in for another hug.

"It's way too late for that, darling. Aunt June is relying on me, you know that. Have a good trip, 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 made it.

The weekend was everything I hoped it would be. The sex was new and exciting; thrilling, in fact. After dinner Friday night, we spent the whole weekend in bed, getting to know each other; our likes and dislikes. While his cock was about the same size as Dave's, Michael was obviously much more experienced than he'd led me to believe. He was also more experimental than Dave. By Sunday afternoon I was exhausted, stretched out, and had a grin on my face that just wouldn't go away. Having a man besides my husband want me as much as Michael did, was doing my middle-aged ego a world of good.

I felt young and invigorated again. Michael suggested we continue seeing each other. I didn't give him a straight answer as I wanted to see how crippling my guilt was when I went home. Yes, it had been fantastic, but I was yet to decide if that was worth it. If only I hadn't married so young and had done all this exciting stuff at twenty, rather than finding it at forty. If only sex with Dave wasn't so same-same. If only it didn't make me feel so young and so naughty. If only...

I returned home to a loving husband that seemed to buy my story completely. He was cooking dinner for all of us; how domestic of him. That evening he tried to initiate sex, but after the thrilling last two nights, I didn't want to kill my exciting memories with my predictable husband.

I promised Dave soon, and he bought it and we slept. I thought I would have a hard time sleeping, but I guess all the weekend sex wore me out, and I slept like a baby.

The following week, at lunch Michael excitedly told me how he had convinced the firm to send him, a month from now, to a week-long conference in Los Angeles, California. Only, he didn't plan to go to the conference. He planned for us to fly to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. He found a luxury home to rent and we were going to spend an entire week there.

He showed me pictures of the home, and it was amazing. It was very secluded down by its own private beach. The sloping hills nearby prevented anyone from seeing the property except by boat. It had a gourmet kitchen, which included our own chef when we wanted. He had massages arranged, as well as coastal cruises, shopping and even our use of the house's private boat to get into Puerto Vallarta when we wanted to visit the town. It was going to be fantastic.

I broke the news to Dave that night. I told him how if they were sending me to America, then I'd probably get a raise and/or promotion soon. When he didn't immediately share my excitement, I launched into him about how many years I supported his career, while taking care of the kids. I told them that I need this, then I demanded for him to support me. I was going anyway but having his support would be nice.

He agreed that the firm recognizing my efforts was a good thing. He apologized for not sounding more supportive earlier but hoped it would be everything I wanted.

If he only knew.

I had a little help from Michael this time buying and hiding my purchases. I didn't plan on wearing much, and the three swimsuits he bought me were either tiny, sheer or a combination of both. I had a few skirts and blouses, supposedly for the conference that I could wear on days we were shopping.

As the time for the trip approached, I was more and more excited, while my love-making with Dave dwindled. I wasn't sleeping with Michael, because that was too dangerous, but I didn't have much interest in the same-same with Dave as the new and exciting sex with Michael. I hope he packed some Viagra because I planned to wear him out.

Finally, the Friday of the day of the trip arrived. I hugged and kissed my kids good-bye and went to kiss Dave, but instead of his lips, I got his cheek. That was weird. I wouldn't let this throw me off my good mood, though. I told him I loved him and rolled my luggage out to the car that Michael had arranged for me to take me to the airport. My adventure was about to begin.

Perspective change to Dave

The stupid bitch.

Maybe if she knew who she was dealing with she wouldn't have done what she did or what she was about to do.

I couldn't believe it when I first suspected she was up to no good. It was Friday of last week. I came home from work a few minutes early, the kids were not home, and she was obviously in our bedroom. I was going to burst in and ravish her, but when I looked through the crack in the door, she was standing in front of the mirror holding a little black dress in front of herself. It was much, well, sluttier than anything I'd seen her wear before. She had an expression on her face like she couldn't believe she'd contemplate wearing something like that.

I had snuck away and made a noise like I was coming in. I didn't want her to have to show me the dress in case she was ashamed of buying it. I looked at our bank statements online to see when she'd bought it and for how much, but it didn't appear anywhere. That, and the strange expression on her face, just set off my internal alarms.

After I'd picked the kids up from soccer and she was busy, I went looking for that dress and couldn't find it. I checked the rubbish bins, thinking someone might have given it to her, and she didn't like it. Of course, it wasn't there. I thought of looking in her car, but the spare key was missing off the hook.

I waited until she was asleep that night, found both the keys in her handbag, then found the rather revealing stash in her trunk. The dresses and lingerie could have been explained away, even hidden as they were. Knowing she was up to no good, I needed more information.

Too bad Sarah never realized that Suzanne, who also works in Michael's office, is the cousin of Julie, my PA. By the Wednesday afternoon before the rendezvous at the cabin, the three of us had pieced together the likely location of their illicit affair, his cabin in the woods, where Michael often bragged to his colleagues about spending the weekends.

It was pretty easy after that to get all the information I needed. Even though I considered it several times, I never told Sarah who I really worked for -- ASIS (Australian Secret Intelligence Service), which is the Australian version of MI6.

Even though my degree was in architecture, I was always supremely good on the computer. Prior to ASIS, I started out in AUSTINT (Australian Army Intelligence Corps) helping our combat troops stationed outside of Australia. I could design infiltration routes through any building and the toughest terrain. I worked with our hardware team to use the most efficient gear, routes and methods to ensure our teams' success. Being an architect that worked with buildings and the land was a natural cover for me at the ASIS.