Suspicious Minds

Tears came to my eyes as I stood there under the water. "How could I let that happen?" I asked myself. Yes, Bill had lured me to his home when Lydia was gone and tricked me into going to the pool house with him. And he could certainly have guessed that I might be horny because Marshall and I were fighting. All that was true, but when it came right down to it, I hadn't been raped. I had said no, but hadn't tried to fight him off. And once I'd given in, I'd had an intense orgasm. Vulnerable or not, I had still committed adultery, and I was filled with remorse.

Marshall

When I got home from playing golf, I found Marsha sitting in the den wearing her bathrobe, with her hair wrapped up in a towel. "Has she just gotten out of the shower?" I wondered. "She must have had more to drink last night than I thought if she only got up a little while ago."

I tried to be supportive and caring. "Are you feeling okay, hon?"

"I'm fine," she snapped, and I flinched.

"I can't win for losing," I thought. "If I don't say anything, I'm insensitive. If I do say something, I'm intruding on her privacy." I decided to go out and trim the bushes. At least I could get something useful accomplished while I was feeling sorry for myself.

Marsha's moodiness carried over into Sunday and then into the work week. She was upset and clearly distracted, yet she never said anything about it to me, and I was afraid to say anything to her. I wondered if she was having her period; it had been so long since we'd had sex that I'd lost track of her cycle. Or perhaps, I thought, something happened at the party Saturday night that had upset her. But she hadn't said anything on the way home. If I'd done something else to offend her, I was damned if I knew what it was.

Finally, I made up my mind to give Lydia a call. I'd been avoiding her after my horrible blunder, but she'd seemed okay with me at her party. Besides, she apparently hadn't said anything to anyone but Bill, and he brushed the whole thing off like a bad joke, so maybe it was safe for me to call. If anyone knew what was going on with Marsha, it would be Lydia. And since I obviously wasn't making any progress getting back into Marsha's good graces, maybe she could suggest something.

I waited until Tuesday to see if Marsha's mood would improve on its own. When it didn't, I called Lydia and asked her if she would have lunch with me this week. She was nice, but clearly a little suspicious. "I'm not going to do something behind Marsha's back," she told me.

"Of course not," I quickly responded. "All I'm looking for is a woman's advice. I've been number one on Marsha's shit list for several weeks now, and I don't have a clue how to make things better. You're her best friend and you're a woman. I just want to get your ideas on what I should do. It's not just for my sake, it's for Marsha's too."

She thought about it a minute and then agreed. "You screwed up pretty bad, Marshall, but I think it's time she got past it. Okay, let's meet Friday at 12:30 at the Marriott near my office. We can eat at the restaurant there. I'll try to help you if I can."

I thanked her and hung up, then marked the date on my calendar.

Marsha

I couldn't stop brooding about my interlude with Bill, and my thoughts were all over the place. Most of the time I spent berating myself for letting my guard down and acting so foolishly. I felt terribly guilty about my infidelity, but at other times I caught myself rationalizing that I wouldn't have been vulnerable if Marshall hadn't insulted me so badly. I reasoned that I had yielded because I was so horny. It had been weeks since Marshall and I had had sex, and I told myself that had contributed to my weakness. Of course what I should have done was to forgive Marshall and let him back in my bed, not give in to Bill.

I was so torn up by what I'd done that it was a wonder Marshall hadn't realized something was going on already. In an odd sort of way, the icy relations between us were a blessing, I realized. "It's like a get-out-of-jail-free card," I thought. "Things have been so strained between us that he hasn't picked up on the way I've been acting."

I gave a lot of thought to confessing my infidelity to Marshall and hoping he would forgive me. But all the advice columns I'd read said it was better to keep the secret than take the risk of losing your marriage. Besides, if I were to admit I had cheated on Marshall after he'd been so suspicious, that would be absolutely humiliating. I would be proving he'd been right all along. "Damn, Marsha," I thought, "you've really gotten yourself in a mess this time. If only you'd stayed away from Bill."

Speaking of Bill, what must he be thinking of me now? I knew he was at least as guilty as I was, but I couldn't help wondering if he thought of me as some kind of slut. Maybe he believed this was something I did frequently. What if he thought I'd been with a lot of men? What if he bragged about his conquest?

Everywhere I turned, things just seemed to get worse and worse.

Marshall

When I got home that night, I felt in a better mood. I'd finally taken a positive step; tomorrow I'd get some advice from Lydia, and maybe she would be able to help me get my relationship with Marsha back in order.

On Friday, when I got to the Marriott, Lydia was already waiting for me at the table, looking both business-like and attractive. After we'd ordered lunch, I started to talk about Marsha's latest behavior, but Lydia interrupted me. "Marshall," she said, "you need to understand that you screwed up big time with Marsha, and in several different ways. The worst was that you accused her of cheating on you. Your actions said, in so many words, 'I have no trust in you.' It's no wonder that Marsha is so upset."

I just hung my head. I knew what Lydia was saying was the truth.

"You also have to understand," Lydia went on, "that you were the last person Marsha thought would have accused her like that. Basically, she feels like you stabbed her in the back. She has every right to feel hurt and angry."

I wondered if what I'd done was really all that bad, but I kept my doubts to myself. I was here to get advice on how to go forward, not to look backward.

"But having said all that," Lydia continued, "you've admitted your mistake -- not that you had any choice after bursting in there like an idiot." Here Lydia gave me a little smile to lessen her rebuke. Then she added, "You've apologized repeatedly and sincerely, and you've done everything in your power to make it up to her. I really think it's time she let it go and forgave you."

I heaved a sigh of relief. But Lydia quickly brought me back down.

"Of course, what you and I think are not as important as how Marsha feels. And she's obviously not in the same place that we are. So to get her there, you and I need to take a two-pronged approach. I'm going to start planting those seeds every time I see her or talk with her. My message is going to be very simple: it's time to forgive and forget."

"As for you," she smiled at me, "you need to be the best husband in the world to her. If there are things she wants to do, you need to go along with them. If there are things you disagree on, you need to keep your opinions to yourself. And most importantly" -- and here Lydia looked at me sternly -- "you need to avoid doing anything to make her feel you're suspicious of her. It's not enough to trust her, you have to make her believe you trust her."

She reached over and patted my hand. "Don't give up hope. With a little effort I think we can convince her to write all this off as a mistake that won't ever happen again."

I thanked her profusely for her advice and for her offer to help. "Operation Model Husband starts immediately," I promised her. "In fact, tell me what you think of this: what if I offer to take Marsha to her favorite restaurant for dinner Saturday. Maybe that will score some points for me and we'll have some time together to reconnect over dinner."

"That's a good start," she beamed at me, like a teacher encouraging a school boy.

"Well," I thought, "I certainly could use some remedial instruction to learn how to be a better husband."

Marsha

I was startled when I got home Friday afternoon and Marshall was already there. He normally stayed a little late on Friday's, and it made me nervous to have him change his routine. My fears mushroomed when he sat me down and said we needed to talk. I thought for sure he'd hear the pounding of my heart as he began to speak about how strained things had been between us. But when he told me that he loved me and it was time for us to get back to normal, I began to relax. And when he said he wanted to start on Saturday by taking me out to dinner at my favorite restaurant, I was so relieved that I could hardly speak. This would give us a chance to reconnect, and I felt desperate for that.

But before I could accept, my cellphone rang, and when I glanced at the display, I saw it was Bill! I wanted to ignore the call, but I thought I'd better find out what Bill wanted. I didn't dare let Marshall know that Bill was calling me, so in desperation I said, "Oh, hi Sis, how are you?"

Bill caught on immediately. "Marshall must be listening. Can you talk, or do I need to call back later?"

"Sure, Sis, I can talk now," I replied. I waved offhandedly at Marshall and wandered out onto the patio, closing the door behind me. "Okay, I'm free now. What do you want?"

"I had to talk to you," Bill said in a whisper. "I can't get over what happened last Saturday."

"Me neither," I agreed quickly. "We made a terrible mistake and I don't know what to do about it."

I looked around: Marshall was still sitting at the kitchen table.

"I'm really worried," Bill said urgently. "I think Lydia may be suspicious of us. I'm worried that she may tell Marshall."

At that instant, all my fears exploded. "Oh, no," I moaned softly, "what can we do?"

"Is there any way you can get free tomorrow so we can talk? Lydia is going to an offsite planning session for her work; it's scheduled to run all day so we won't have to worry about her catching us."

"Marshall usually plays golf every Saturday," I mused. "Maybe I could come up with something that would take me out of the house while he's gone."

"That's perfect," he replied. "I know a place we can go where we won't have to worry about being interrupted. Call me Saturday morning as soon as Marshall leaves for his golf game." Before I could reply, he whispered hastily, "Lydia's coming back; I have to run." With that, he disconnected.

As I walked back inside, I wondered if I was doing the right thing in agreeing to see Bill again. But what he'd said about Lydia getting suspicious sent a chill through me. We had to prevent Lydia and Marshall from ever finding out what had happened.

Then it hit me that I had the perfect excuse to get away on Saturday. When I came back to Marshall, I asked, "Are you still playing golf this Saturday?" When he said yes, I said, "Perfect! That was Sis on the line. She's been bugging me to come spend the day with her. If you're going to be out playing golf, I'll go and visit with her."

"Of course," Marshall said quickly, "that's no problem. But what about tomorrow night?"

"Oh, yes, honey, that'll be fine," I told him, "I'll be back in plenty of time."

Marshall

After talking with Lydia, I was optimistic that Marsha and I could start getting back to normal, and I thought dinner at Antonio's would be the perfect way to start that process. But when I sat down with Marsha to talk about it, right in the middle of our conversation she interrupted to take a phone call.

It was her sister calling, and Marsha went out on the patio to talk to her. I wondered why she didn't want me to hear the conversation; maybe they were talking about me. When she came back, however, she told me about her plans to spend the day with her sister while I was playing golf.

I certainly had no objection to that. Sis lives in a small town near us, but she might as well be five hundred miles away: we just didn't see her that often. But what I did object to was that Marsha seemed to completely forget about our conversation. She agreed to going out with me, but didn't show any enthusiasm whatsoever. Moreover, she was distracted the rest of the evening, and then went to bed early. Maybe it was a little optimistic on my part, but I'd hoped that we could get our relations back on track in bed that night, but it was clearly not to be.

I just couldn't figure out what was going on, and I have to admit that a part of me was suspicious. "She's acting like she has something to hide," I thought. But the instant that thought occurred to me, I realized that I was falling back into the trap of my old behavior. "That's exactly the kind of thing that got you in so much hot water before," I reminded myself. "That's exactly what Lydia warned you about."

Marsha

Saturday morning I woke up early. I usually sleep late on the weekends, but I couldn't do it this time. I knew what the problem was: guilt about my infidelity and fear of exposure were getting to me.

Marshall and I had breakfast together and enjoyed a normal conversation for a change. I told him about what was happening in my office and he talked about his travel plans for the coming week. Then it was time for him to leave for the golf course. As he walked out the door, he said "Say hi to Sis for me."

"Will do," I yelled back. "Have a good round."

When he had gone, I sat down again at the breakfast table and had another cup of coffee. It felt good to have a normal conversation with my husband, and I was relieved that we hadn't touched on the anything relating to the one topic that dominated my thoughts and emotions.

I was still hesitant about meeting with Bill again, but my fear of what Lydia might have learned won out, and I grabbed my cellphone and called Bill. "It's safe to talk now -- Marshall is headed for the golf course," I told him when he answered. "Great," he replied, "but I don't want to talk about it over the phone. Meet me at the entrance to the city park at noon." Before I could say anything else, the phone went dead.

Although I was nervous about seeing Bill, I reassured myself that nothing would happen. "I'll have my car," I reasoned. "I can leave any time I want."

I got to the park a few minutes after noon. Bill was already there, and he motioned me to park in the lot. "You can ride with me," he said confidently. "I know the perfect spot where we can talk and not be disturbed. You'll love this," he went on. "I was exploring one day and stumbled on this place. Sometimes I come here to picnic or just to get away, and there's never been anyone else around."

As he talked, he drove us into the park and soon began circling up a winding drive toward the top of a hill. As the car climbed, Bill abruptly turned onto a gravel road. I noticed a sign reading "Service personnel only."

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be here?" I asked uncertainly.

"There used to be a storage shed for supplies and equipment up here, but it's abandoned now. You'll see," he assured me.

A minute later we pulled into a clearing at the top of the hill. It was surrounded by trees, and on one side I saw the old abandoned storage shed, which was on the verge of collapse. It clearly hadn't been used in years.

Bill hopped out of the car and came around to open my door. Then he went back to the trunk and returned with a picnic basket and a large blanket, which he spread in a shaded area. "I brought along a picnic for us," he said. "Let's get something to eat first before we get into it,"

That seemed innocent enough; besides, it had been a long time since breakfast, so I was pretty hungry.

"See why I love this place?" Bill said as we ate. "It's so peaceful and secluded -- it's like my own special getaway in the city."

It was truly remarkable. "This is amazing," I agreed. "I never knew this place existed."

But then I remembered why we were there. "Bill, we have to talk about what happened last week," I started.

"Dessert first," he insisted, and passed me a plate with chocolate brownies on it. They were delicious, and I couldn't resist having a second one. I'd worry about the calories later.

"When you were in college, did you ever try marijuana or hash?" he asked suddenly.

"No," I told him, "I never did. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering," he said with a little smile.

He passed me some bottled water and I sipped it thirstily. When I had finished, he gathered up the plates and other picnic gear and stowed them back in the trunk.

"Now can we talk?" I asked him. "What happened with Lydia?"

Instead of answering, Bill said, "Before we start, I want you to try something. Lie back on the blanket, close your eyes and listen for a second."

That seemed like an odd thing to do, but I complied. Everything seemed so peaceful that there seemed no reason not to do so. As I lay back, I felt the sun shining on my skin. It was one of those late fall days when the temperature was unseasonably warm and the sky was a deep blue without a single cloud. I closed my eyes and tried to listen, but I could hear nothing but the birds singing in the trees.

"See what I mean?" Bill said quietly, "No traffic, no crowds, nothing but the sounds of nature."

I closed my eyes again and listened some more. He was right: besides the birds, the only other sound I could hear was the breeze rustling the fallen leaves beneath the trees. I felt as though I'd been transported to the Garden of Eden. I felt Bill's fingers begin to rub my temples gently, and it felt so good that I just surrendered to the sensation.

The setting was so pretty and his hands were so soothing that I felt as though I'd been hypnotized. My mind seemed to drift away, and each moment of time seemed disconnected from the previous. Bill placed his lips to my ears and whispered, "How do you feel?"

His words somehow sounded far away, but I forced myself to concentrate enough to whisper back, "I feel wonderful!"

I lay there, overwhelmed by a feeling of unity with the sun, the wind and the ground. Bill's fingers continued to rub my temples in a circular motion, but after a while I noticed that his fingers were also stroking my breasts and teasing my nipples. I wondered idly when my bra had come off. I thought I heard a voice at a great distance saying that this was all wrong, but there was a roaring in my ears that drowned out everything else. His fingers and now his lips felt so good that nothing else mattered any more. My skin had never been so sensitive; I just wanted his touch to continue.

Then he was pulling my skirt and panties off and licking my pussy up and down. I heard myself moaning, but it sounded so far away that I wasn't sure if it was me. Every touch, every caress, every flick of his tongue produced a sensation more intense and more acute than anything I had ever felt before. Then it was building and rising, and I knew that I was helpless to stop it. I felt my hips thrusting in a desperate search for relief, and then I exploded in an unbelievable orgasm before I lost consciousness.

It was the gentle but maddening sensation in my pussy that eased me back awake. I looked down to see Bill's head between my thighs, his lips and tongue and fingers prodding me back to a state of awareness and renewed arousal.

When he saw my eyes open and stare at him, he gently eased me to a sitting position. Then he maneuvered me around until I was on my hands and knees on the blanket. Somehow he managed to do all that while keeping his hand on my slippery pussy, continuously stroking and teasing it. "I'm so wet," I giggled to myself.

I rested my head on my arm and let him do whatever he wanted. The sensations were amazing, and now, in addition to the wind and the birds I could hear the beating of my heart. Then I felt his cock slide around the entrance to my pussy, and I knew I was totally open and exposed to his thrust.