The Woman in the Cave

"Okay. Agree to disagree. Be that as it may, your dissatisfaction with your husband caused you to be unfaithful to him. No matter what perspective you have on it, YOU still caused your marriage to suffer a huge blow. One that you couldn't recover from."

"But..."

"No Kat. You did that. Not him. You."

"I did." She said softly as the tears started flowing. "I did."

She laid her head on her lap and started crying loudly. Her shoulders shook as her body trembled with sobs. I sat there, quietly, allowing the emotion to overtake her. She needed this. As much as this was causing her pain, she needed it.

"I didn't mean to hurt him Dr. Carter. I really didn't. I just became so frustrated with him that I couldn't even look at him the same. But I never wanted to hurt him."

"I know Kat." I said consolingly as I handed her a tissue. "But you have to come to terms with the fact that you did hurt him. You have to accept that. It's easy to put it off on him being a pussy. When you do that, you justify things by saying that he deserved it. But, no matter what, you can't make him responsible for YOUR choices. YOU made the choice to cheat on him, and to distance yourself from him. You may have started out trying to motivate him, but somewhere along the lines you gave up on him. Own that."

"I don't want to Dr. Carter. I don't want to bethatperson."

I felt it was time to get her talking again. I didn't want this to turn into a student-teacher session in which she obediently listened as I spoke. She seemed to be getting smothered in this conversation.

"Tell me Kat, how did your attraction to Terry affect your life at home? How did things escalate?"

Kat sniffled and took a deep breath. "Well..."

************************************************

KAT

My life changed slowly, slowly, slowly; and then bang! Nothing was the same.

At the office, I expected things to be awkward between Terry and I. Surprisingly, things weren't. At first, there was the initial self-consciousness. It wasn't so much the picture that I sent him causing it; after all, it was only my bra that he saw. It was the fact that I wasn't sure what he was thinking; what he was expecting. I was attracted to him, but I didn't want to have an affair.

But when I saw him, he pretended like nothing had happened. There were no uncomfortable attempts at conversation. He just ragged on me like he'd always done. I did the same, and things continued just as they always had.

That's not to say that there was no "spark". There was still flirting between the two of us when no one was looking. During meetings, I would catch his eyes lingering on me. Then he would smile a knowing smile when he saw me notice him.

To compensate for this, our competitiveness ramped up. I didn't hesitate to poach clients from him when the opportunity rose. I would have even stolen Mr. Wellington from him if I had the chance. We were still competing against each other for Senior Partner.

However, underneath all that, our primal urges were lurking. Waiting. I enjoyed having his eyes scan my body from head to toe every chance he got. I pretended like I didn't notice, just as he pretended he didn't catch me taking subtle whiffs of his cologne.

But we didn't take the next step. For one, I was still somewhat happily married. Mostly. Brandon was an unmotivated dreamer who was wasting his potential waiting for the right person to read his novels, but he was still my sweetheart.

I wasn't sure that Terry was showing the same restraint that I was. He and his secretary seemed to be - shall we say - a little too comfortable. They tried to play it off and look professional when others were around, but there was something about their interaction that set off the rumor mill. A familiarity of sorts that seemed a tad bit less than "professionally appropriate".

Believe it or not, workplace romances were a common thing in our office. No one batted an eyelash, even if the people involved were married. We spent more time in the office than we did at home. Spouses don't understand the stress and the workload that lawyers have to deal with. The late nights, the early morning meetings, the fast-paced hustle. It all takes a toll. Often, spouses can inadvertently add to that stress. They complain about you not being home, and how lonely they are. They do this while spending your money and driving the luxury cars that you paid for, of course. The only people who understand are people with similar occupations. So, it's natural to find comfort in the office, where we all "get it".

Another reason I think Terry and I didn't indulge ourselves at that time was the competition that existed between us. Both of us wanted the upper hand with each other, so neither of us would take the next step. I certainly wasn't going to be the one pursuing him. How desperate would it have looked for a married woman to be pursuing another man, especially when he couldn't do anything for her that she couldn't do for herself? Say what you will, but society places a different stigma on men and women adulterers. A married man pursuing a woman is an untrustworthy dog, but a married woman pursuing a man is desperate and needy on top of being an untrustworthy bitch. I was neither.

So, I repressed my illicit desire and satisfied myself with arm-length flirting. Terry seemed content to do the same. And things went on like that for about a year.

At this point, I was working late almost every night. I was becoming increasingly exasperated by Brandon. No matter what I said or did, he would not get up and do what he needed to do. He was so complacent that it irked me. It got to the point that I didn't desire him sexually anymore, and I didn't want to be around him.

The frustrating thing about it was he felt that he was doing everything he could to get his books published, so he wouldn't see logic. My thought process was this: either he was lazy and not doing everything he could, or his books really weren't that good and there was no amount of hustle that would make his dream come true. Either way, I felt like he needed to cut bait and do something else. Maybe do his writing on the side.

But he was dedicated to this fantasy. So, he put all of his eggs in that one basket. And it turned me off.

We still had sex, but not as much as we had before. And, to be honest, it just wasn't as satisfying. Being upset at Brandon made him less physically attractive to me. Does that make sense? I mean, there was nothing different about his body. He still did the same things that he'd always done. But something was missing; at least for me. The things that used to have me clawing at the sheets now had me hoping that he would finish quickly.

One night, during my many late-nights, I was feeling very horny. The situation with Brandon didn't stop my body's natural yearnings. All it did was make me sexually frustrated. I was used to suppressing it, but it never went away. It just simmered.

On this night, it wasn't just simmering; it was boiling. And lo and behold, there was a knock on my chamber door.

"Come in." I yelled out, remembering that my assistant had gone home for the day. The door opened and Terry came in.

"I thought I saw your car in the parking lot." He said. "Don't you ever go home?"

"Well, there has to be at least ONE lawyer here to pick up your slack. The only time I see you working is when you are pretending to be a lawyer so that you can poach my clients."

He chuckled. "Just because I make it look easy doesn't mean I don't work. It's just that I do things right the first time, and I don't need to stick around to fix mistakes."

"No, you stick around to bang your secretary."

He shot me an amused look that said "ooooh, good one". Then, he took a seat in the chair in front of my desk.

"Well, she's not here now, but I am. What's the reason for that?" The playful banter in his voice was gone. There was something else there now. Something seductive.

His eyes were full of lust. He was openly scanning my body through my pencil skirt and my blouse. They stopped when they scoured my cleavage.

My thighs tingled. My stomach churned with excitement. My nipples became erect. I tried to squash the desire building up inside of me. I really did. But it had been a few months since Brandon and I made love. Now, my body was in flames.

I had to get out of here. I had to run home. I had to throw Brandon on the bed and fuck him into incoherence. But I didn't.

Instead, I walked around my desk and sat on it in front of Terry. I did it slowly by planting my butt on the edge, placing my foot on the chair between his legs, and pushing myself back using his chair as leverage. Then I sensually crossed my legs and leaned forward.

"I don't know Terry. Why are you still here?"

He didn't answer with words. Instead, he stood up and stepped forward until we were inches apart. I breathed in his cologne and my vagina started to get moist. My breathing quickened, along with my heartrate.

Nothing was said. The silence was pregnant with lust. We just sat there, breathing each other in. I didn't even realize that my eyes were closed until I felt the crook of his finger under my chin, lifting my head up. Then, his lips descended on mine.

Stop Kat! Stop!My conscience was pleading. But it was whispering in comparison to my body, which was screaming at the top of her lungs.

The sounds of lips smacking and heavy breathing were heard as we became lost in each other. Terry's fingers gently opened every button on my blouse. I helped him by untucking it from my skirt. When my blouse fell open, he slipped it from my shoulders.

This was the first time we stopped kissing. He took a moment to appreciate my breasts. While he was looking, I reached my hands behind my back and unhooked my bra to give him an unobscured view. I let it fall free, then I snaked my arms out of the straps and tossed it on the desk next to me.

With a coy grin, I massaged my breasts, bringing my fingers together at the nipple and squeezing them. His hands replaced mine, and his lips found me once more. This time, he peppered my neck with kisses that sent electricity straight to my groin.

My hands trailed around his waist and down the outside of his legs. His thighs were tense, which turned me on even more. I brought them around front and felt around for the thing I wanted.

When I found it, I was impressed. Contrary to what men believe, I wasn't looking for a 10-inch ramming rod to repeatedly stab me in my uterus. There are size queens out there, but most women want something that is nicely proportioned. 6 or 7 inches is plenty enough. As long as it's not smaller than 6, we're usually happy.

And I was very happy.

He took an intake of breath when I cupped his manhood. Then, he wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me off my desk until I was standing up.

My hands momentarily stopped rubbing him. I planted them on his chest and lightly pushed, giving me a little room. Then, I turned around, hiked my skirt up, and pulled my lacy panties off. They slid seamlessly down my stocking clad legs and came to rest around my ankles. I stepped out of them and kicked them to the side.

Behind me, I heard a belt buckle rattle, followed by a zipper. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Terry's pants pool around his ankles, just as my panties did. I took this as my cue, so I bent over, planted my elbows on my desk, and spread my legs. My naked ass jut in the air invitingly. Terry took a step forward and pressed his dick against my ass. His hands rubbed my cheeks and squeezed them. Then he put one of them between my legs and slid his fingers between the folds of my vagina lips. When they lightly brushed my clit, ripples of pleasure shot throughout my body.

I moaned, equally in lust and frustration. My body needed to be fucked. All this buildup was torture. So, I reached under me, grabbed his cock, and guided it to my opening.

There was nothing short of a massive lightning strike when he entered me. My entire body responded to him. I moaned out, "Oh my God!" like I had been deprived sex all my life.

He started to thrust. Back and forth, in and out, he fucked me against my desk. My breasts swayed with each forceful pump as his stomach slapped my ass again and again. My head bobbed in tune with them. Moans of pleasure escaped my open lips as I allowed him to ravish me.

Within moments, I was on the brink of orgasm. It couldn't have been any longer than 5 minutes of penetration. That was how on edge I was. When it hit me, I clamped my eyes shut and my body went rigid. My throat tried to scream as waves of bliss washed over me, but nothing came out but a raspy squeal. It was only when it started to subside that I was able to let out a groan.

Terry pulled out of me, leaving me gasping for breath. Then he turned me around and pushed me back on the desk. Lifting my legs in the air, he lined himself up and invaded me once more.

The only thing I could do in response was wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and hold on. I pulled him into me, causing him to lean over me. He planted his hands on the desk on either side of me, and then continued to have his way with me. As he fucked me, my legs bounced against his back with such force that one of my shoes fell off.

My body was no longer in my control. I'd given it to him, and just lost myself in his strides. Brandon ceased to exist to me in that moment. I was no longer a wife. I wasn't even a lawyer. I was a prisoner of lust.

When I came for the second time, I bit down on his neck. My fingernails clawed the back of the shirt that he was still wearing. He howled out as my teeth broke his flesh. However, he didn't stop. He was on the cusp of his own orgasm, so he sped up.

"Don't....cum...inside of me!" I gasped in between strokes. He didn't answer. He just kept on pumping, chasing his own pleasure. I didn't have the willpower to stop him if he did come inside of me, so all I could do was hope that he heard me.

I felt his dick swell up inside of me. His heavy breathing turned into moans. Then, he suddenly gritted his teeth in preparation for that moment. Much to my relief, he pulled out of me and jerked the cum out of him. It splashed all over my thighs and groin, just above the lacy tops of my stockings.

The two of us just stayed like that for a moment, trying to come down from the clouds. We looked each other in the eyes, silently thanking the other person. With my arms still wrapped around his neck, I pulled him in for a final kiss.

***

As cliché as it sounds, I didn't feel guilty until I was driving home. I took a shower at the office and got myself together (bathrooms in the executive suite had showers), so when I emerged no one would have been the wiser. Makeup was applied, hair was tight, clothes were neat; I didn't look anything like the woman that was sprawled out on her desk getting fucked an hour ago.

I just felt...wrong. Everything was different now. In that 20-minute session of sex, my outlook on my entire marriage was fundamentally changed.

I wanted a divorce.

I loved Brandon. I really did. But I couldn't be married to him any longer. Being his wife was draining more out of my life than it was putting into it. This evening was the final nail in the coffin. The fact that I fucked another man was proof that I didn't want to be in this marriage.

When I got home, I found him in the living room. He was sitting on the couch with his laptop in his lap. On the television was a documentary about the fall of the Roman Empire.

"Hey Kitty Kat." He said when he saw me come in. "There's still Chinese in the fridge if you're hungry. I got you some General Tsao's chicken and Lo Mein."

I trudged past him and sat on the love seat instead of on the couch with him. When he saw my face, he knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong, Kat?" he asked, his face showing worry in the creases on his forehead. I took a deep breath as a single tear came down my face.

"Bran, we need to talk..."

***************************************

DR. CARTER – PRESENT

"Wow. You told him everything? Just like that?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Just like that." She repeated back to me. "I even told him about the pictures I sent Terry."

"Wow." Was all I could say. Most people usually only confess when they have to. They usually hold off until they get caught, or are about to get caught. "So, how did he react?"

"Angry. Pissed off. He yelled, screamed, called me all kind of names. Funny thing, this was the first time he really showed that side of him."

"And you?"

"What do you think I did? I yelled back, of course. I called him a...a..."

"What?"

"A period bleeding, tampon wearing, pussy." She said quickly.

"You said that? To his face?" I asked in disbelief. She nodded sadly. "Wow. I don't know what to say. You never cease to amaze me Kat." I said in a combination of twisted admiration and incredulity.

"I know. I'm a bitch. You can say it."

"I wasn't going tosaythat. But Brandon could definitely make that argument." I joked. It got a half of a smile from her.

"Oh, he did make that argument. Very loudly. My ears are still ringing."

"So, where does this take us? What happened next?"

*******************************************

KAT – THREE YEARS AGO

The room looked so familiar to me that I had to remind myself that I wasn't here for work. I was here to finalize my divorce.

For months after my confession, Brandon and I lived like two ghosts. We were physically in the same house, but we couldn't really see or touch each other. I would come home from work, and the only evidence of him that I would see was empty food containers in the garbage can. We could honestly go for a week without laying eyes on each other.

We never talked about the sleeping arrangements, so I took the initiative and moved into a guest bedroom. I felt it was only right, since I was the one who cheated. He didn't put up any argument in opposition. In fact, he hardly said another word to me.

The next time we actually had a face to face conversation was when Mike (my attorney) gave me the divorce papers to give to Brandon. I could have had him served when I was at work, but I felt that I owed him the courtesy of giving him the papers myself.

So, I called it an early day and went home. I wanted to make sure I caught Brandon by surprise. I had a sneaky suspicion that he ran to the bedroom to hide when he felt I would be home soon so that he could avoid me. I got home a full 4 hours ahead of time.

Once again, I found him in the Livingroom. He wasn't quick enough to disappear on me. Once again, like déjà vu, I sat on the love seat. I dropped the papers on the coffee table in front of me.

"Are those what I think they are?" he asked without even looking up from his screen.

All I could get out was a croaked, "Yes."

He tried to look neutral and unfazed, but I saw the hurt displayed momentarily on his face. Then, without another word, he picked up the envelope, pulled the papers out, and silently read them. It became a little awkward with me just sitting there while he read, so I started to get up and leave him to it. Before I got to the door, he said, "Nope. Take them back."

"What?" I asked.

"Take them back. I'm not signing those." He said again as he placed them back on the coffee table.

I was at a loss for words. I didn't know what kind of reaction I was expecting, but I wasn't expecting this. This settlement was more than fair. He was keeping his BMW that was paid off. He was staying on my health insurance until he got some of his own. I was even giving him alimony. A lot of alimony. It was enough for him to be able to get chase his insipid dream and still live a relatively lucrative life. What more could he want?