The (Former) Trophy Wife

The cold bites at my face despite the tartan scarf that comes up to my button nose and full lips. It's so cold that I even worry about Dale as he runs across the playground towards his friends, stopping once to wave at me with mittened hands, before rushing off around the corner of the school building.

This wasn't the life I'd imagined for myself back when I met my husband Joel in a swanky nightclub in London nineteen years prior. He was in finance and wealthy beyond comprehension for a young, naive girl from a quiet town. But I knew how to dress and I knew that I looked good, and that's what caught his eye. A drunken romp in his hotel room had led to a proper date, and that had led to sharing a flat and then to the wedding day from my dreams. Joel wasn't shy of telling me he like blondes with big tits and long legs, and I certainly covered all those check boxes for him.

It was a trade of sorts. He gave me security and an easy life where I didn't have to work, and in return I gave him something to put on his arm at fancy dinners, someone for his friends and colleagues to admire as I flashed a smile and perhaps a little too much cleavage. Not that Joel had ever complained - he wanted them looking at me, lusting after me. And as long as it stayed that way, at lustful looks and dangerous thoughts, he didn't care.

That was all well and good until I reached my thirties and he started worrying about his legacy. Joel was getting on at this point, seeing as he was ten years my senior, and it took two years of trying and a lot of expensive treatment until I became pregnant. He was delighted when Dale was born, and I genuinely felt the fact that we would be a family would change things for the better between us.

I was to be proved very wrong.

It was like he felt he had done his part in impregnating me, and now it was my job to raise our son until he was ready for private school - his job and the prestige it brought was the most important thing to him. His interest in me waned too, certainly now my body became a little softer and my large breasts a little droopier. Occasionally he would ask for a blowjob, and sometimes we'd even fuck - but he'd usually be drunk, and it would always leave me cold.

This is what I got, I was told gleefully by my sister, when I married for money and not love.

"Frozen, isn't it?"

My head turns and I see Chris beside me, another parent at the school that I'd become friendly with. He was a single parent to a little girl in the same class as Dale, and I'd gotten to know him after our children were put together for the end of year play last school year. Each evening they'd come back to ours to rehearse, and each night I'd gotten to know him a little better.

It was those meetings in balmy, summer nights that had made us close. He was lighthearted and sweet with none of the self-conscious attitudes I had grown used to in the circle of Joel's friends. He could make me laugh, and I realised I was crushing on him just a little bit. It might have even been reciprocated - there had certainly been lingering touches and looks, but never more than that.

It wasn't too much of a surprise that I had taken a liking to him. He was younger than me by five years, but he didn't look it. His jet black hair was greying on the sides and his thick beard had the same streaks of white in it. He looked manly though - today he was wearing a thick coat displaying the top of his green flannel shirt, and his face was weathered and cracked from his job as a tree surgeon. Essentially the opposite of Joel, who had almost as many face products as I did - I wasn't even sure whether Chris knew what moisturiser was.

"Just a little," I respond, tucking myself deeper into my wool coat and eyeing him with blue eyes. "Not working today?"

Chris shakes his head at me, but his concentration is on Ellie as she waves happily at him and he waves back just as enthusiastically. "No, not today. I've got a job in place to manage the conifer for one of your neighbours in the next few days though."

I pause and try to think of who that might be. "Carol?" I ponder aloud, and he turns his kind eyes to me with a nod.

"Aye, Ms. Bruce."

"It needs doing."

He smirks from the corner of his mouth. "Not a fan?"

I give a shrug that is barely noticeable under my many layers. "Joel isn't."

Chris barks a laugh and turns back to the playground. "No, I don't suppose he would be."

The two of them didn't get along. It wasn't an outright dislike; it wasn't like they would ever come to blows. They were just two very different people, with very different life experiences and expectations. That, and Joel hadn't been especially fond of how close we'd gotten earlier in the year, so for the most part they avoided one another, and that suited both just fine. Not that Joel worried about Chris as a threat - his thoughts would be what did a tree surgeon have that could possibly entice me.

"Fancy a brew?" he suggests. "Coffee shop around the corner. Looks like you need it too, if I'm brave enough to be honest."

I glare at him then, ready to tell him where to stick his honesty, but there's only kindness in his eyes. Only ever kindness. With a dejected sigh I nod.

"Not the coffee shop though. I don't like their coffee. I have some nice stuff at home if you fancy that? " I suggest, the expensive tastes I'd gotten used to after nearly two decades clear.

"Joel not home?"

I roll my eyes at him. "No, he's working. He's always working."

We leave the school premises and form a small convoy for the five minutes to my large home. It's this stretch of the day that I hate the most, between Dale going to school and him returning home. The loneliness of a housewife with few friends and little to do around the house because of the collection of cleaners Joel hires.

Today being a Tuesday, they're not in when I unlock the door to the home. I dry my black boots on the mat and then hear Chris do the same as I head into the kitchen, heels clicking on the fine marble floor. I hear the door shut and then his voice calling to me.

"Shall I take my boots off?"

"Probably for the best. I bet your boots are covered in mud, aren't they?" I call back.

"Not... so much these ones." He answers, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

I move to the fancy little coffee machine, one Joel had regularly told me was the top-of-the-line model. I wrinkle my nose at the multitude of buttons, none of which simply say 'coffee', and then go about setting it up with a deep grudge.

"Looks fancy" Chris says as he enters the spacious kitchen. I turn to see he's removed his coat and his green eyes, slightly creased with his years, are on the machine behind me.

"I suppose it is." I reply drearily, turning to press a button and then removing my scarf and coat and placing them on the back of a stool beside the breakfast bar.

There's a brief pause, the coffee machine whirring into life and doing whatever it does inside of it's small steel confines to make decent enough coffee. I turn my concentration to finding mugs and getting some milk from the fridge when his deep voice speaks.

"I don't have milk."

My head droops and I turn back to the fridge to put the milk back. When Chris next speaks it's softer, more compassionate.

"Jenna, what's wrong?"

I stop what I'm doing, fridge door still open as I get lost in the question he's asked me. It was an innocent question, one I'd have once been able to deflect with a smile and a laugh. I mean, it was only a silly mistake after all. But today I am as frozen as the air outside, and for some reason his concern just makes it all the more unbearable that this is my life now.

"Jen?"

My head shakes and I close the door to the fridge and lift my hands shakily to my face as silent tears slide down my face, something that would have horrified me once upon a time. I mean, what would have happened to my pristinely-applied make-up if I was to actually cry?

Without really realising I find myself in strong arms and I push my head into a broad chest and grip tightly to a musty smelling shirt. I don't sob, I've never been an especially emotional person, but I do feel more tears come as a strong hand smooths up and down my back.

"Did you ever think life would end up like this?" I ask him, voice muffled by his shirt.

"Ever think I'd ever live in a grand place like this? No, not really. Not much money in tree surgery."

This makes me pull my head back to pout and frown at him simultaneously before putting my head back to his chest, perhaps a little rougher than is strictly necessary.

"Guess it ain't all that, hmm?"

I shake my head against him and then sigh loudly. "No, it's not. I was married as one thing and I have lost all my identity, all I was in my youth. And this new identity... it makes me feel hollow. Unwanted."

Chris scoffed. "You? Unwanted?" he laughed. "Have you seen the envious looks that the other mum's give you? And the other dad's for that matter? Sounds like Joel don't know what he's got to me."

It's kind of him to say it but it doesn't lift my mood - they're just words at the end of the day. I place my hands on his chest and slowly push myself away. "I should get the coffee." I whisper, and move to walk to the counter only to be stopped by a hand on my arm. My head turns to look up at the earnest face of my friend. Perhaps my only friend, as sad as that is.

"I mean it Jen."

There's intensity in his stare and I find myself unable to look away from his weathered face, but there's also a glimpse of hesitation too. Like he's not sure what he's going to do next.

That question is answered in just a few short breaths, when the hand around my arm pulls me towards his strong body, and before I can even process what is happening, his lips are against mine and his hands are on my waist.

I let the kiss last just for a few moments before I quickly pull away, feeling a blush on my cheeks as a hand moves to where his lips had just been. Chris is looking away bashfully, waiting for the chastisement I can feel on the tip of my tongue. He should be told off for kissing a married woman, for overstepping the boundaries of friendship we'd set.

Instead I step back to him, tilting his head back to me as I kiss him back.

His arms instantly wrap around my body and I feel a groan of pleasure rumble through him as my lips part and I feel the slip of his tongue brush mine. His hands feel so secure as I feel myself pulled into him, one smoothing up my spine while the other boldly moves to my behind.

It feels like the most genuine amount of attention I've had since becoming a mother.

The kiss, so sweet and gentle to begin with, becomes more intense as the mutual desire we clearly both feel begins to simmer. My hands run up his hard chest and his own slide across my well made top, feeling the curves that have come with age. The longer we kiss, the more the ache between my legs grows and the vows I made all those years ago get closer to being forgotten.

Just one time, I tell myself, as I unbutton the top of Chris' flannel shirt.

It's the permission he'd been waiting for, because he immediately pushes me back against the breakfast bar with hands fumbling in an attempt to remove my top, lifting the hem and touching my body with cold hands. Because of the snug fit, all he can reach is the muffin top that is now my once flat stomach so it's something he struggles with. It makes me smile, and the distraction means he stops kissing me and pulls away with a puzzled expression.

"What is this?" he grumbles, and I chuckle under my breath.

"It buttons from the back." I tell him with a sweet smile.

Without another word he turns me around and fumbles for the few buttons at the top of my shirt. There's something about the action that turns me on beyond anything I've felt in over twenty years, perhaps ever. It's pure, illicit desire for my body that I respond to by grinding my ass against his groin, feeling the hardness even through the denim of his jeans. Chris groans in response and I feel the rip of my top in his impatience to get to my skin.

That eagerness is something neither of us can hold back any longer. My top is only down to below one of the cups of my purple bra when I grind against him harder in obvious need for his cock. Chris is clearly experienced and gets the silent message and quickly steps back to pull my leggings and panties down in one motion to just below my knees, exposing my pale ass to him.

I breathe heavily in anticipation, we both do, as behind me I hear the sound of a zipper being undone, then a belt and the sound of his jeans falling to the ground. Then his body presses against mine and I turn to kiss him just as the tip of what feels like the thickest cock I've ever had pushes firmly into my sex.

The feeling arches my head back and I cry out loudly, and I'm thankful the house is so big and so empty then. Chris silences me with another passionate kiss as his hands go about removing the top until it's barely a rag around my soft midriff.

Sex with my husband is nothing like this, I realise quickly. Everything with Joel is formulaic, and his boredom with my body can be seen and felt with everything he does with me in the bedroom. Like most pretty things he buys, he's grown tired of me and sees nothing but a mother to his legacy now and someone he invites less and less to social gatherings. Perhaps he has a lover, an escort that knows to keep quiet.

At this point, I can't really complain about that.

Sex with Chris is totally different. The way he pulls my bra down to grope and pinch my heavy breast, the way his hand runs through my soft golden hair and how his bearded chin drags along my shoulder and neck as he kisses and bites me speaks volumes. All of this he does while sliding himself firmly into me, fucking me with an intensity I've not experienced before. As far as he's concerned I'm the hottest thing he's ever touched.

And I love it.

I push my hips back against each of his powerful thrusts into me, the sound of his pelvis hitting my ass echoing around the kitchen alongside my throaty moans and his deep grunts. His hands now cup both of my breasts, my bra now hanging off the back of a bar stool, and my back arches at just how good all this feels.

"Ha-harder." I gasp, and in response one of his hands leaves my breasts and forms a fist in my hair. Firmly, yet not forcefully, he pushes my head down so it's against the surface of the breakfast bar. And then Chris gives me exactly what I'd asked for.

It's hard to describe the noises I make. I know it's like nothing I've ever made before when I've had sex with Joel or anyone. I cry out and scream for him while stretching to grab the far edge of the breakfast bar while feeling my whole body shake from how hard he's fucking me. A bar stool clatters to the ground and I'm distantly aware of it, much like I am of the growls of desire coming from the mouth of Chris.

When his free hand spanks my ass I cry out for more, and Chris duly delivers with two quick hard smacks to my rear. I don't know what has come over me, over us, but the moment the final hit lands I feel my body tensing for a release I've not felt through regular penetration in over a decade.

"Chris!" I gasp, before shrieking through the waves of orgasm that follow. My body tenses and my cunt contracts around his hard cock. My mouth moves wordlessly for a time until mewling, high-pitched moans escaped her lips slowly.

My friend, my lover, doesn't say anything before he cums. He quickly pulls out of me just as I've found release and I feel a warm splatter splash across my back. Chris makes a deep, powerful grunting noise as he finds his own release. I don't move, I can't move, as he unloads ropes of sticky cum across my back and ass.

The room is filled with heavy breathing as I slowly start to come to my senses. I try to feel guilty about what's happened, to feel even a shred of remorse about cheating on Joel, but I can't. I've not been happy, not been satisfied, for quite a while. And the buzz of reaching such an intense orgasm...

I feel a towel on my back and turn to see Chris cleaning up the cum that he has covered me with. I look up into his blue eyes, wondering whether I will see some of the regret I'm still searching for. All I see is a smile that I return back to him.

This isn't enough. I want more. I need more.

I deserve more.

"Fancy coming upstairs?" I ask. "We can do this properly then."

Chris grins and leans forward to kiss me. It's the only answer I needed.