The Secret

"You know, Danny. I thought you were different. I thought you were special. I don't know what's happened to you, but you're not the man I believed you were. How sad is this, huh? I have to break up with your answering machine."

I grabbed the phone and dialed her number. Her roommate Betsy answered. "She doesn't want to talk to you," Betsy said curtly.

"Betsy, this is serious. Put her on." I heard Betsy cover the phone and say something to Lauren. "Hold on," Betsy said. After a moment, she passed the phone to Lauren.

"What do you want, Danny?" She still sounded like she'd been crying.

"I want to apologize."

"Well it's too late for that. You don't return my phone calls, you forget my birthday, you're never home. I don't need this shit."

"Lauren, come on. Give me another chance."

"Forget it. I've been down here being the faithful, loyal girlfriend, and you can't even be bothered to pick up the phone once in a while? I don't think so."

"Lauren, please..."

"No. Someone else is interested in me. I'm not going to waste my time waiting by the phone for you to fit me into your schedule."

I was stunned. "Someone else?"

"Yes, someone else. You seem to think nobody else would find me attractive."

"No, Lauren, that's not it... wait, who's the someone else."

"Troy Bennett."

"Troy Bennett the football player?"

"Yes, Troy Bennett the football player.

"Troy's black."

"Yes, Danny. Troy's black, and from what I hear he has a massive cock and he's not afraid to use it."

The image of Lauren on her knees in front of Troy's huge cock gave me a jolt. "Listen, baby, we can work things out, I know we can."

"No we can't. Don't call me again." There was a click on the line. That was the last time I spoke to Lauren. Until about a year ago, that is.

It was a business trip. I'd started a company with 2 other guys from the bank. We did independent consulting within the banking and financial industry. I'd begun to specialize in customized interactive websites, and it was hugely successful. We'd gotten a call from one of the largest financial services companies in Boston, and I put together a proposal and demonstration that I hoped would wow them. If I landed this account, we'd all be set for life.

I was in a conference room in Boston, setting up the demonstration, when I got the shock of my life. Pete Phillips, the department team leader, came in and said "Hey, Dan. I'd like to introduce you to the head of MIS. She's got a few questions for you before you begin."

"Sure," I said. "Bring her in."

Pete left, and returned a moment later, followed by a dark-haired woman. "Dan Mills, this is Lauren Bennett, head of our MIS department."

"Ms. Bennett," I said politely, extending my hand to shake hers.

"Mr. Mills," she said quietly. She took my hand and barely shook it. She just kept staring at me.

"Listen," Pete said. "I'm going to leave you to your questions while I round up the rest of the folks for the meeting."

"Okay, Pete. Thanks." I turned my attention to Ms. Bennett. "Okay, I'm sure you have specific issues you want to address, so why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

"You don't recognize me, do you?" she asked.

I had only given her the briefest of glances. Now I stopped and studied her. A knot began to form in my stomach. This was my Lauren.

"Lauren... what are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?"

"I'm sorry. That was as stupid question. I'm just so shocked to see you."

"Shocked but not pleased?"

"No, no... I'm glad to see you. Really."

"I'm glad to see you too."

There was an awkward silence as we studied one another. "Lauren Bennett. Lauren Bennett. Can I assume, then, you married Troy Bennett?"

"Married and divorced."

"I'm sorry. Do you have kids?"

"Two. They live in Virginia with Troy and their step-mother Roberta."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You must miss them."

"I do. But it's better for them. More stable. I work too much. What about you? I notice a wedding ring."

"Oh, yeah. Married eight years. Two young sons."

"That's wonderful. I'm glad you're happy."

"Thanks. Listen, Lauren. I'm in Boston until tomorrow morning. Can we meet and have a drink somewhere this evening."

"I'd like that," she said, scribbling an address on her notepad. She tore off the sheet and handed it to me. "How's 7?"

"7's great."

We turned our attention to the demonstration.

Later that evening, I had I was in a cab heading for the Beacon Hill address Lauren had written down for me. When we arrived, I thought it was a mistake. We were in front of a townhouse, not a bar. I paid the driver and got out. I walked up the steps and rang the bell. After a moment, the door opened and there stood Lauren. She looked younger and softer in her casual clothes. She invited me in and took my coat.

I followed her into the kitchen. "What can I get you to drink?" she asked, setting out a plate of fruit and cheese. "I have beer and wine."

"A glass of wine is fine."

I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was even more beautiful than I remembered her. Still full and round. Hair still dark, with a few strands of gray here and there. I fought the urge to slip my arms around her. She skillfully removed the cork from a bottle of white wine, then poured two glasses. She handed one to me, then clinked my glass and said "To old friends."

"To old friends," I repeated.

I watched her raise the glass to her lips, and a memory overcame me, strong and vivid. I could see her on her knees, the shaft of my dick disappearing into those full lips.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"I was just remembering something from our time together," I answered.

"Really? What?"

I could actually feel myself blush. I stared into my wine glass. "Um, it's something sexual..."

Lauren laughed. "Oh it is, is it?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes, I was just picturing the way you looked giving me head."

"Mmmmm..." she smiled. "That is a pleasant memory."

I took a long sip of my wine. It was good. Crisp and dry. "It took me a long time to get over you," I blurted out.

"But you did get over me," she replied, staring into her wine glass.

"Never completely." Why the hell was I being so honest?

"I never got over you completely either. It took me a long time to stop being angry."

"I was an ass."

"You could have handled things better."

"I was an ass."

"Okay," she smiled. "You were an ass."

I chuckled softly. The ice was broken, and we were both more relaxed. "Do you own this place?" I asked.

"Yes, I do. It was a disaster when I bought it ten years ago. I got it for a song. I did a lot of the work myself. It was cathartic, helped me work out my demons about the divorce."

"It's lovely."

"Thanks. Would you like the nickel tour?"

"Sure."

Lauren guided me around the house. Hardwood floors. Exposed brick. Pictures of her children everywhere. We headed upstairs where she showed me the rooms she kept for the kids. And then the master bedroom. It was warm and airy, all shades of soft yellow. Right in the middle was a King-size wrought iron canopy bed. Lauren was saying something, but I couldn't hear her. I was imagining what it would be like to spread out on that huge mattress with her, sucking her tits, caressing her ass, losing myself in her soft flesh.

"Dan?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was lost in thought."

"Business?"

"No. Pleasure."

"Really..."

"Actually, I was imagining what it would be like to fuck you on that immense bed of yours."

"I'm flattered. Perhaps we should go back downstairs," she replied, steering me out of the bedroom. When we got back to the kitchen, Lauren took a big sip of her wine then turned to me. "Show me a picture of your wife," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because when I got home, I stretched out on my bed and thought about you too. I wondered if you were still a titty-boy. I tried to remember how your dick tasted and the feel of your tongue on my clit. I finally had to get my vibrator to take care of myself so I wouldn't be even the slightest bit tempted when you got here. But I am tempted, incredibly so. I need a good reason not to get on my knees and suck you off right here. So show me a picture of your wife."

My hands shook as I reached for my wallet. The imagery was overwhelming, especially the thought of her playing with herself. I pictured her heavy thighs spread wide while she buzzed her clit and slammed the toy in and out over and over again until she had one of her incredible liquid orgasms. The only photo I had of Andrea without the boys was one taken at the tennis club last spring. She was in her tennis whites, standing next to the trophy she had won at the club tournament. I handed it to Lauren.

There was genuine surprise on her face as she studied the picture. "You're kidding," she said.

"Why do you say that?"

"She reminds me of Sandy."

I took the photo back and took a good look at it. "Yeah, she is kind of like Sandy. But she's not a bitch."

"I guess it's just my ego, but I figured you had married someone more like me, not like Sandy."

"What do you mean, more like you?"

"You know. Someone less..."

"Athletic?"

"I guess you could put it that way."

"Yeah, Andrea's a total hard body."

"I didn't realize you liked that."

I was quiet for a moment, looking down at my wife. Finally, I let out a sigh. "The truth is," I said. "I don't. There's nothing soft or feminine about her body. There's nothing to hold onto. Half the time I feel like I'm fucking a man with breast implants." I was shocked at my own confession. I'd never said anything like this out loud before.

"Then why did you marry her?"

"I was lonely, and she was good company. Everywhere we went, people told us what a striking couple we were. Everyone just expected me to marry her, so I did."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes. She's a terrific woman."

"Well, that's that, then."

"What's what?"

"I can't fuck you if you're in love with someone else."

"I said I love her. I didn't say I'm in love with her."

"What's the difference?"

"You've been married once. You know the difference."

Lauren stared into her wine glass. "Yes, I do."

I took her wine glass and put it on the counter. Then, before she could react, I took my face in her hands and kissed her. Her response was automatic; she opened her mouth and welcomed my tongue. She pressed her full, soft body against mine. She put her arms around me and rested her hands on my lower back, just the way she had almost twenty years earlier. The feeling was so familiar, so right, that I started to get hard. I slid my hand down to her breast and squeezed. Lauren moaned softly, then pushed me away.

She took a deep breath, then slowly released it. "There's time for that," she said.

"Is there?" I asked.

"Yes there is. You blew them away with your presentation today. They're going to messenger an offer to your hotel in the morning. You're going to be spending a lot of time in Boston over the coming year."

"Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about something like that."

"Oh, my God. That's incredible news!" I was elated, despite the ache in my groin.

"And, by the way, my glowing recommendation didn't hurt you any."

"You did that for me?"

"You had the best product. It integrates the most easily into our existing environment, it's user-friendly for both the company and the client, and requires minimum training. I honestly thought it was the best of everything we'd seen."

"Thank you."

"So, you want to grab somethin to eat?" she asked, skillfully changing the subject.

"You know, there's a lot of different directions I could go with that question, but I think I'll take the high road," I joked.

Lauren laughed. "There's a great Thai place not too far from here. We could walk."

"Sounds great."

And that's how Lauren came to be my secret. I've spent a lot of time in Boston the last year. A lot of time in her bed. Up to now, we haven't actually had sex. But it's Valentine's Day. Twenty years to the day since I took a chocolate covered cherry to bed. I sent her a Valentine last week, and wrote "It's time. D." . Inside was a business card from the hotel where I usually stayed in Boston. On the back it said "2/14. 6 o'clock. Room 1018."

Andrea was standing in the middle of the kitchen in her workout clothes. "I still don't see why you couldn't postpone Boston for a couple of days? I don't want to be alone on Valentine's Day! And whoever heard of a weekend business trip?"

"Honey, we've been over this..."

"I know, I know. They want to be online with this system by March, and when the biggest client says 'Jump' you say 'How high?' "

"Just so you don't miss me too much..." I said, sliding a long, narrow velvet box across the counter.

"Oh, Dan!" Andrea exclaimed, opening the box. She lifted out a diamond tennis bracelet. "It's beautiful. Thank you so much." She threw her arms around me, and I hugged her hard, wiry frame. "You really are the best husband in the world."

I knew it wasn't true, but I accepted the compliment anyway. "Thank you. It helps to have the best wife."

"You're so sweet. Listen, you'd better get going. The traffic's getting heavy and you don't want to miss your flight."

"Okay. Kiss the boys for me when they wake up and tell them I'll be home by Tuesday."

"I will," Andrea said, kissing me quickly. "I love you. Have a safe trip."

"Love you."

I eased out of the driveway and headed for the airport. The trip was only a small lie. It was a working weekend. The client wanted to do a few test-runs outside of normal business hours. But the truth was, I didn't have to be there until tomorrow, not for work, anyway. I could have spent Valentine's Day with my wife, but that's not where I wanted to be.

Andrea would head upstairs to make the bed and find the Valentine I'd tucked under her pillow. The roses would be delivered by noon. She'd head off to the indoor tennis club with something sparkly on her wrist, and she'd order that romantic movie on pay-per view. I should have felt guilty, but I didn't. All I could think about was Lauren.

I checked into the hotel around noon. I knew the desk clerk well by now. "Oh, a suite this time, Mr. Mills?" he asked, surprised at the reservation.

"Yes, Thomas. I've got a working weekend ahead of me and I needed room to spread out."

"Well, I hope you find it comfortable. If you need something special, let me know and I'll get the concierge right on it."

"Thank you, Thomas. You're a good man."

"Thank you, sir. Enjoy your stay."

"I'm sure I will."

I allowed the porter to unlock the door for me and carry my bags into the suite. I didn't need the help, but I knew he lived on his gratuities. I tipped him generously.

"Thank you, sir, thank you," he said when he realized how much I'd given him. "You need something special you just let me know. I'll get the concierge right on it."

I glanced at his nametag. "Thank you, George. I appreciate your help."

"Yes, sir. You enjoy your stay."

I planned on enjoying my stay very much. I was a Frequent Traveler's Club member at this hotel, so I'd cashed in some of my points for a free night and a free upgrade to a suite. I didn't want the business to pay for my affair. I'd opened a small, interest-free bank account in the city, and gotten a new credit card, with the bill sent to my office. I needed to keep this life separate from my family life.

I called the florist to make sure my order would be delivered on time. Then I called the jeweler and The Luv Shoppe to let them know when I'd be in to pick up my orders there. I headed down to the restaurant for a bite to eat, and found it surprisingly crowded. I noticed the sign for their "Lover's Lunch." After I was seated, I looked around and wondered how many, if any, of these people were married to one another. Who was having an affair? Which of these men would leave the dining room to go upstairs and fuck away the afternoon before returning home to their wives with flowers and chocolate.

I finished my meal, and headed out to finish my errands. Boston was bitterly cold, and I was grateful for the warm, inviting atmosphere when I finally returned to the hotel, bags in hand. I'd asked the woman at The Luv Shoppe for a plain brown bag, and she smiled knowingly. I couldn't go walking through the hotel lobby with their normal glossy red and black bag. I let myself into the suite and checked the time. 5:00. Plenty of time. I phoned room service and placed an order to be delivered at 5:45.

I went into the bedroom to prepare. I turned down the bed. A moment later, the phone rang. It was Thomas the desk clerk.

"Mr. Mills, you have a floral delivery. Should I send him up?"

"Flowers? You?re kidding?"

"No, sir. Were you not expecting them?"

"No, I didn't order flowers. They must be from my wife. What a sweetheart. Sure, send him up."

"Of course, Mr. Mills." Thomas had bought it.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I let the deliveryman in and motioned to the coffee table. "You can put the roses there," I told him.

"Sure thing," he said, placing the flowers where I had indicated. "You want this here too?" he asked, holding out a small box.

"That?s fine," I answered. I signed the delivery slip and the credit card slip, then handed him a tip.

"Thank you, sir. You enjoy your Valentine's Day."

"I expect I will, thank you."

After he was gone, I picked up the small box and brought it into the bedroom with me. I opened it up and began scattering rose petals across the bed. I felt a little silly, but I knew it was one of those romantic touches women loved. I took the small velvet box from my inner coat pocket, and placed it gently on one of the pillows. I grabbed my suitcase and tossed it on the other bed. I unpacked everything and put it neatly away, all except my black robe and a pair of silky blue sleep pants. I laid those neatly on the second bed.

There was a knock on the door. I glanced at the clock. 5:45 already? I opened the door, and the room service waiter rolled the cart into the suite. I checked the order card: chocolate-dipped strawberries, whipped cream, champagne. I signed the card and handed the waiter a gratuity.

"Thank you, sir. Shall I open the champagne for you?"

"No thanks, just leave it on ice."

"Okay, well you enjoy your evening."

"I will. Thank you."

I headed back into the bedroom and grabbed the bag from The Luv Shoppe, taking it into the bathroom. I began to run a bath in the oversized tub, adding Garden Fantasy Bubbling Love Bath to the water. When the tub was three-quarters full, I stopped the water, and tossed in the remaining rose petals. I had just lit the last candle when I heard a knock on the door. I took the glossy red box and set it next to the sink. Then I went to let Lauren in.

I opened the door and twenty years fell away. "Hi, come in. Let me take your coat."

"Thank you," she said, stepping into the suite and looking around in admiration.

I slipped the 'Do Not Disturb' sign over the outer door handle, and shut the door. I took her coat and hung it in the closet.

"This is beautiful," she said. "I've never actually been inside this hotel."

"Never?"

"Never had a reason to be here until now." She smiled and I felt the familiar warmth. Even after all this time and all that had happened, I was still in love with her. "What's this?" she asked, nodding towards the room service cart.

"Just a little something," I answered, lifting the metal lid from the strawberries and whipped cream.

"How sweet of you," she said with a smile. "And speaking of sweet, this is for you."

Lauren handed me a plain brown bag. Inside was a heart-shaped box. "Chocolate? You remembered!"

"Of course I remembered! But you should probably open it."