The Seven Deadly Sins: Sloth

Guilt. It seemed a permanent part of her life these days. She drank too much at dinner and Peter disgustedly helped her back to the chalet. He deposited her on the bed, meaning to undress her after the electric roller-shutters had fully descended.

Jane was three parts asleep when she heard the first shutter motor, which to her tipsy, fatigued, guilt-ridden mind, sounded just like a roll-a-door. She jumped up screaming, adrenaline flushing the alcohol from her body. Peter stared at her, confused. Again, she refused to tell him what was going on. Again, he spent the night celibate and with growing anger. And again, Jane lay there, all night, listening to him snore.

Peter had organised a deep-sea fishing trip for the next day. He enjoyed that while Jane dozed in the shade on the front of the boat. Thus refreshed, she wanted to make love that night, but Peter was exhausted from the exercise and the fresh sea air. She did wake him up with a spectacular blowjob the next morning, though.

When she first met Peter at the museum, she knew she'd need a competitive advantage and it wouldn't be her three-baby snatch or her taut skin. Hence, she started researching how to pleasure a man orally and became quite the expert. Books, talking to friends, and even watching internet porn clips provided the research material and a succession of Lebanese cucumbers, the props. Within a month she would have been confident to go toe-to-toe with a Thai bargirl.

As Peter fully hardened, and Jane took him to the root, she smiled, and not for the first time. With the cucumbers, she'd been able to get over seven inches in without gagging. Peter turned out to be barely five inches long. Jane wondered if his below average endowment was the cause of his drive to dominate as a businessman.

She'd developed a technique with Peter. From her research, she knew the best performance was when she firmly grasped the cock with her hand, while also using her lips and tongue. With Peter, using a full hand didn't leave much cock spare for her mouth to work with, so she learned to just grab it with her thumb and first two fingers. This she proceeded to do, feeling Peter thrust his hips up off the bed in a vain attempt to reach the back of her throat.

At one point in their relationship, she'd compared Peter to Dave, but they were chalk and cheese. Dave was bigger, had more girth, lasted longer, and was more patient. Peter tried to be a great lover but to no avail. She loved his adoration of her and his enthusiasm, but a great lover he was not. Jane became an expert faker.

He did get something from her Dave didn't, though. Jane increased the stroke rate, suction, and pressure of her thumb when she sensed the end was near. Jane braced herself not to gag in revulsion as Peter's semen splashed into her mouth. She'd learned that if she wanted to save herself from the worst of the bitterness it was best for it to hit the back of her throat, bypassing her tongue. She made sure to make the appreciative noises he seemed to love so much.

With Peter back snoring, Jane rose to brush her teeth - Peter wouldn't kiss her later if she didn't - checked her phone for messages, and grab the resort brochures to read while waiting for him to re-awaken.

After breakfast, she explained what she'd chosen for the next day and asked Peter if he was okay with it. He barely glanced at the package and the price before agreeing. Jane was exultant. The full day pamper package cost more than it would take to run her old household for a month. This was what she deserved.

That booked, they hit the beach and found a private spot. After soaking in enough rays, Jane removed her bikini top and was pleased with the effect it had on Peter. She wanted to retire to the nearest grove of coconut palms, but Peter insisted on returning to the bungalow. Between the thoughts of paparazzi and private detectives, he was too nervous to do it in public. Jane knew Dave was in no shape to organise a detective, even if he could scrape the money together for one. Standing up and putting the top back on, Jane looked around to make sure they weren't observed, then dropped the thong to mid-thigh to expose her freshly shaved honeypot, the work of fifteen athletic minutes in the shower that morning. Peter's nostrils flared, and he roughly yanked her thong back up before grabbing her hand and literally dragging Jane back to their digs.

Jane was in heat by the time they got there, the knowledge of what she was doing to her lover excited her beyond belief. She knew that even with her oral relief of him that morning, if she let him mount her, he would come well before she was satisfied; so, as soon as the door was closed, she pushed him onto his back on the huge bed, then dropped the thong with lightning speed before straddling his face and starting the circular grind she knew would tip her over the edge. Peter played along and stuck out his tongue. Hurriedly pushing her top aside, Jane cupped her breasts and pinched her nipples, and, within a minute her back arched, and she screamed at the ceiling before collapsing onto the bed.

She would have preferred to lie there for a moment to recuperate, but Peter demanded redress immediately. It was his turn to straddle Jane's chest, squeezing her breasts together to make a tunnel which he then proceeded to fuck; badly. He was mauling her hypersensitive orbs painfully, so she pushed his hands away and took over the job herself. His equipment wasn't really up to the job. She lifted her head from the pillow and tried to lick his tip with her tongue as it emerged each time from her compressed cleavage but couldn't quite reach. To cover any embarrassment, she began shouting how hot it was. Her lover reacted by thrusting even faster.

At that moment, her phone, which was sitting on the bedside table, sprang to life, filling the room with the sounds of an old-fashioned telephone, her chosen ringtone. At first, she thought Peter didn't even hear it, but then his fist slapped it, presumably to stop the distraction. It stopped. Not half a second later, Peter rose on his knees. Jane braced herself for another mouthful that she'd have to pretend to enjoy, screaming, "Cum in my mouth, honey", but Peter had other ideas. He grabbed his cock and let go with stream after stream of semen into Jane's helpless face, all the while bellowing, "Take it all, bitch."

Jane had never allowed facials before, and it was as humiliating as she'd imagined it would be. She was shocked and was both relieved and glad to see a look of remorse immediately appear on Peter's face. She could see he was genuinely sorry he'd lost control so badly. That all quickly faded into insignificance when a familiar voice sprang from the speaker of her phone.

"Just friends, huh? Jane, this is your mother. I met David in the park this morning. When you've cleaned yourself up, give me a ring, we need to talk." This was followed by the silence of disconnection.

Jane was mortified. A double whammy. Not only because her mother had overheard her and Peter engaged in some pretty graphic stuff, but what her mother knew about Dave. She'd said she had met Dave that morning. Met not seen. Oh god! Which of her lies had been exposed?

Not that she questioned it, but Jane didn't know whether her bolt to the bathroom to void her stomach, and a good proportion of its lining, was due to the semen still on her face or to the sickening realisation that she'd damaged her longest relationship. Badly. She could still hear the disappointment and anger in her mother's voice, and though she was a grown woman with children of her own, it hit her forcibly that she still wanted and needed her mother's love and approval.

CHAPTER 3

Peter left her to compose herself after looking in the bathroom briefly and reassuring her that things would turn out okay. Jane was far from convinced. After fighting the urge to bury her head in the sand and pretending the call had never happened, Jane grabbed her phone, asked Peter for some privacy, and retreated to one of the spare bedrooms in the chalet. She didn't waste much time preparing for the conversation. All she had to tell her mother was that the physical relationship with Peter had only started on this trip. The rest would depend on what Dave and her mum had talked about.

With trembling hands, she punched in her mother's number, getting the international prefix codes right on the third attempt.

"Yes," was the curt answer.

"First off, Mum, sorry for what you witnessed before, but as you heard, um, my and Peter's relationship has moved on to something more, um, physical."

The silence from the other end of the phone was long and deafening.

Finally. "Did you really think the kids wouldn't tell us that your lover has been sharing your bed since you knifed David? I can't tell you how disappointed your father and I are in you, Jane. Not only because of what you've done to your husband, but for lying to us. To think that a daughter of ours could do such things... it just... I can't take it all in. I feel like I don't know you anymore. Your father feels the same. He is so upset that one of his little girls could do something like this. I think you should come home straight away. Your dad pointed out that we were brought here under false pretences. Let us know when you'll be here and give us a ring when you're half an hour away. We'll have your neighbour sit with the kids for thirty minutes if you arrive outside of school hours. I, for one, don't want to see your lying face for a while, and neither your dad nor I want to meet that arsehole you're... you're boning, again. Ever."

Jane's mouth dropped open. Her mother was not one to swear or use crude language. "But, Mum, I-I-I need this break."

"It's not negotiable."

Just before the connection was broken, Jane heard her father's voice in the background, Tell that slut...

Slut. Her father had called her a slut. Jane's hands were trembling so much that it took several attempts to redial but redial she did. Then she laid it on the bed, knowing the speaker function was still engaged. This shit had to be put to bed. NOW.

"Mum, I'll be home as soon as I can. I'll get Peter to charter the jet back. I'm sorry for lying to you, I... I'm just sorry, okay? I thought if you knew Peter and I were sleeping together, you'd think I was moving on too fast. That you'd lose respect for me, that's all. When Dave moved out..."

"Before you're tempted to lie to me again, Jane, let me tell you that Dave and I had a good long chat today after I saw him in the park. We sat on a bench. He refused to come in for a coffee due to some restraining order or other. Know anything about that, Jane? Doesn't sound like the amicable split you described. My god, woman, the man is shattered. Care to depart from recent habit and tell me what really happened?"

"Um..."

"On second thoughts, I don't want to be here all day. Did David do anything to deserve being thrown out, never mind all the other stuff you did?"

"Um, not really. I think I just fell out of love with him. He was always at work or so tired that he just didn't have any time for me anymore."

"Well, we both know why he worked so hard, don't we, Jane? Then, I suppose this Peter guy came along with a flash car and offered to fly you to Thailand in a private jet no less. He must be loaded and swept you off your feet. Please tell me this isn't all about you upgrading to a better lifestyle."

"But, Mum, I'll... we'll never have to worry about money ever again. Peter has a huge house on the other side of town. I won't have to work, and he's already said that he'll pay for the kids to go to the best schools. I did it for them."

"Bullshit, Jane. In my day it was called gold-digging. Tell me, why did you have to ambush David like that? Having him served with no notice when he came back from a business trip."

"Peter's lawyers said it was best that way."

"I'll keep my opinions on that to myself for the moment, Jane. Why the restraining order?"

"Peter said that it would maximise my chance of getting primary custody if I stayed in the house. He refused to share the house with Dave, so the only way was to get an Apprehended Violence Order."

"And what grounds did you use to get one of those? I know for a fact they don't hand them out like candy."

"Um, well, I may have implied that Dave smacked the kids."

In the background, Jane heard her father snort in derision, making her realise her mother was using the speaker phone function.

Her mother's voice rose a couple of octaves in disapproval. "That's disgusting, Jane. I'm betting he never touched the kids like that, they were his reason to live."

"I know, I felt bad doing it, but it was Peter's idea. He's assured me it won't appear on Dave's record permanently. After the custody hearing, I'll let Dave see the kids whenever he wants, but right now, I can't risk the slightest chance of losing them. I need sole custody, not shared."

"I can't believe this. So, tell me, if this shithead, Peter, is so loaded, why cut your husband off without even the price of a burger for dinner? The poor man was humiliated when he tried to check into a motel, only to be told none of his credit cards would work."

Jane had been listening to her own justifications and was beginning to get a fuller realisation of just how shallow and mercenary they were making her appear. Thus, she withheld the primary reason, which was to restrict Dave's access to quality legal advice.

"Peter said it increased my chances of getting sole custody."

"Stop hiding behind that arsehole, Jane. He couldn't force you to do anything. It was you who applied for the restraining order, and you who cut your husband off at the knees, broke his soul, and beggared him. YOU!"

The near scream, with its implied disapproval, stunned Jane. That was something else her mother rarely did. Raise her voice? That was rare, scream, never. Jane was incapable of speech while her mother regained her breath. Jane clutched at any straw to help ease the condemnation coming from the other end of the line.

"But, Mum, when I saw him in the park, I told him how to get access to money to live on. I even offered to bring him some food. He refused. What more could I do? He won't help himself."

"Yes, I know what you mean, Jane. I offered him money as well and he refused it. I didn't understand why until your dad explained it to me. I should have realised; after all, I've known Dave for twenty years. He's a proud man, Jane. For his entire adult life, he's supported first you, then his entire family. Sure, maybe it wasn't to the standard you think you deserved, but you never starved or seriously went short, did you? In essence, he's a man who supports other people. The idea of accepting charity is against his very nature. Accepting anything from you would be charity. He may no longer have a family to support, but he's damned well going to support himself. With no access to money, the only way to support himself is to live on the streets and scrounge food from bins, so that's what he does."

Jane's mother broke down crying at this point which was undoubtedly the worst sound Jane had ever heard. Whether all of it was in empathy at Dave's plight or disappointment in her, she didn't know. Until she'd seen Dave in the park that first day, she'd been so focused on the goal of improving her life that she'd thought little of others' feelings. The thought of only having to swallow her principles a little, and some unchallenging acting to achieve a life free of worry and full of luxury, was just too seductive. Now it was thrust past all her internal defences that she'd completely lost the respect of her mother and father and destroyed a good man. A loyal man whose every waking moment had been focused on one altruistic goal - THEM. Her and their children.

She'd repaid that loyalty, that commitment to the family, with a meat cleaver in the back. Her conscience was on the point of collapse. She needed time to think. Speaking loudly to penetrate over her mother's loud sobs, she said, "I'll be home as quick as I can, Mum. Peter can explain better than I can."

The ensuing ten seconds of silence seemed like an eternity for Jane.

Finally. "Jane, there's a name for people that sell their bodies and souls for material gain. It's called prostitute. And if I want to hear from an arsehole, I'll... I'll fart."

The silence once again told Jane that her mother had hung up on her. She put the phone down before burying her head in the pillows of the spare bed.

From the doorway, Peter looked on with a combination of anger and concern. He'd buried the fundamental trust problem he had with this woman, she was a cheater after all, when he fell in love with her. And love her he did. Almost as much as he had his late wife. The knowledge that she'd been in contact with her husband and not said anything to him came as a shock. He'd seen her reaction to her mother's words and had an inkling of the torment and turmoil going through her mind. He knew she must be having second thoughts about her chosen course and that terrified him. He'd lost his love once before; he didn't want to have to go through that again. Burying his anger, he determined to show her only love and forgiveness while at the same time vowing to be more vigilant in the future.

Parts of the conversation he'd eavesdropped on had gotten through to his conscience as well. The fact that he would probably never get on with his new in-laws would be uncomfortable for him and Jane but not a showstopper. No, the bit that hit home was what his determination to win this sweet woman's heart had cost another human being. Like most people, Peter considered himself a decent person. The sudden image that he was someone who could cause a man to reject everything and live on the streets troubled even his underdeveloped conscience. His earlier reflex of triumph now seemed sordid.

He shied away from the unfamiliar pain and toward what he did best - planning. Planning to come out ahead. Silently retreating from the doorway, he messaged his PA to organise a Lear jet ASAP.

Peter looked down at the screen of his phone, at Jane's smiling face. He stared until the screen went black, contemplating whether to contact the PI firm his company used with info on Jane, so they could keep tabs on her when they returned home. He fired up his phone, once again studying Jane's face, and decided against it. He then returned to the spare room and cuddled a broken Jane.

His scolding of her for withholding information was quite gentle, and, over the five hours until they had to pack for the trip home, Peter thought he'd convinced Jane that she'd gone past the point of no return in her relationship with Dave and the only future rested with him. All the way home, he talked of what he could give her, continuing the seduction he'd begun many months before. The niggling doubt of mistrust of her remained, though.

CHAPTER 4

Dreams of a luxurious future helped Jane bury thoughts of Dave's pain and the fact she'd been the sole cause. Peter had been successful in convincing her that once the custody hearing was complete and all restrictions were lifted, Dave would rejoin society and eventually get over his pain. She half-heartedly tried to convince Peter to relax some of the restrictions, particularly the restraining order, but he was adamant. He wanted everything on his terms.

As arranged, Jane messaged her mother when they were leaving the airport. The kids were at school, so the house was empty when they arrived. Peter had Jane text her parents, asking what flight they were on so he could get them upgraded to business class seats, but a terse 'no' was the only reply.

The one good thing about returning early, Jane realised, was they could attend the neighbourhood party that Friday night. It was a once-a-month tradition attended by all her closest friends. The venue rotated among the dozen or so families involved. This month it was at Sarah and John's place.