You Break It, You Bought It.

"How are you going to do that?"

"I've got an idea, but I have to work out the details. I'll call you in a few days."

The anticipation of having sex with Clay already had Michelle's whole body tingling from head to foot. She wasn't very convincing as she tried one last attempt at denying her desires. "I... I don't know, Clay."

"I'll call you," he flatly stated with confidence.

Guilt was already setting in as Michelle walked through the outer office on the way out.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Char asked with a smile.

For an instant, Michelle's brain processed the question differently. She knows, screamed the little voice inside her head. She knows I want to have sex with Clay... she knows what he's planning! She looked a little startled. "Huh?"

Char nodded to the posters in her hands and Michelle realized what she was actually asking. "Oh, yeah... pretty nice, huh?" she said, holding them up so Char could see them.

"I'll say; a vast improvement over the old ones."

"Well, I've got to get back to the office. See you later, Char."

Once back in the office, it was all she could do to concentrate on her story. Her mind constantly wandered back to her conversation with Clay. How could he guarantee they wouldn't get caught? There was absolutely no question that if they did get caught, Adam would divorce her. She closed her eyes and willed herself to stop thinking of it. The last thing she needed was to go home looking guilty. She knew Adam didn't particularly care for Clay, and she certainly didn't want to cause any suspicions.

Later in the day, Terry returned to his campaign headquarters after speaking at a women's club. Clay heard his brother greeting Char and joined them from the back room.

"Hey, bro, how'd it go?"

"Okay... nothing out of the ordinary, you know, same old questions—same old answers."

"Ah, listen, I need to go over some things with you in the back; got some time?"

"Yeah, sure," replied Terry.

The two walked into the backroom and Clay closed the door behind them. As they sat down at the table, Clay lowered his voice. "Hey, I need a favor."

Terry knew his brother well enough to figure this was going to have something to do with a girl. He'd covered for him on several previous occasions. "Ah-ha, who is she?"

"Michelle." He could see his brother didn't recognize the name right away. "Red hair, green eyes, a body that won't quit..." it appeared Terry was still in the dark, "the photographer's wife."

"Oh, Jesus, Clay, isn't that a little close to home? Isn't she a reporter?"

"Yeah, but don't worry, I've got it all worked out." Terry was listening. "Friday of next week you have that thousand-dollar a plate dinner at one o'clock at the Civic Center in Peoria."

"Yeah—so?"

"So, I won't be there, neither will Michelle."

"Let me guess. You'll be shacked up in some hotel, together."

"You got it, bro," Clay replied with a grin.

"So what do you need me for... second chair?" he laughed.

"Yeah, you wish. No, I need you to take notes, or maybe keep a digital recorder in your pocket; something to keep an accurate record of who you talk to and what's said. I'll get a regular press release from Sam, but Michelle will need more than that to write her story."

"A digital recorder? Jesus, the things I go through just so my little brother can knock off a strange piece of ass. Okay, I've got a couple that are voice-activated. I'll put fresh batteries in them and turn them on when I get to the dinner."

"You're a life-saver, dear brother. I really appreciate this."

"Yeah, yeah. Just remember to return the favor when it's my turn."

"You got it, bro."

Clay's plan was coming together. Now all he had to do was convince Michelle to go along with it.

The next day, Michelle was sitting at her computer, working on a story when her phone buzzed with a text.

I'm downstairs. Lunch is on me.

She texted back. Can't leave until I finish my story. Another 15 -- 20 minutes.

I'm parked just south of the building. I'll wait in the car.

She knew it was wrong, but it was just so damn exciting to have somebody chasing her again. It was just like college. She put Clay out of mind momentarily so she could finish. "My story's in your queue, Clint. I'm going out to lunch." He gave her his usual grunt of approval.

At the restaurant, Clay waited until they were served before springing his little surprise. "I've got it all worked out."

"What's that?" she queried.

"A day of you and me dancing in the sheets."

She stopped chewing her chicken salad as his words sunk in. She looked up to see if he was joking, but he looked dead serious. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and me with a whole day to explore each other's bodies and fuck ourselves into oblivion."

She was staring at him like she couldn't believe what he was saying, but she hadn't raised any objections so far so he kept going.

"Next Friday, Terry is going to Peoria for a campaign fundraising luncheon at the Civic Center. I've already sent a press pass to your boss. Everyone is going to meet at the headquarters and go down there in the campaign bus... except us," he said with a grin. I'll book us a room at the Marriot."

"And just what am I supposed to do about writing the story?"

"I've got it covered," he replied. "I've got Sam, our press agent, writing a press release for the other papers. You'll get a copy of that, plus a copy of Terry's speech. He's also going to record everything, once he gets to the luncheon. You can use parts of the tape along with everything else to write your story."

Her mouth was open but she wasn't saying anything, so once again, he continued. "The bus won't be back till five or five-thirty and your paper doesn't have a Saturday edition so the story won't run until Sunday—right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"When's your deadline then?"

"Ah, Saturday night at six, but I'd normally write it Friday night at home and send it in so Adam and I have the weekend together."

"That's fine. I'll see Terry when he gets back. I'll call you and play the tape while you're on your way home and you can record it on your phone."

It all sounded pretty elaborate to Michelle, but she couldn't really see any obvious holes in his plan. She was still thinking...

"Well? What do you say?"

"I... I don't know, Clay, I... I mean we're talking about cheating on our spouses. We'd be taking such a chance."

"What chance? Terry's going down there to meet a few downstate big-wigs. The whole thing is going to be very routine, they're going to eat lunch, he'll give his speech, and then they come back on the bus. Meanwhile, my wife will be home, your hubby will be at work, and we'll be having the time of our lives.

"Friday night, to get rid of any guilty feelings, I'll make love to my wife, you'll make love to Adam, Sunday your story will be in the paper and no one will ever be the wiser."

He was a good salesman. It sure sounded like he had all the bases covered. Shit, shit, shit she told herself. With the fast-paced schedules they both kept, she never thought he'd actually come up with a workable plan. Her conscience was telling her, no way; the little voice inside her head was screaming at her to turn him down flat. Why then did she hear herself saying okay?

Her heart started to race, was it from fear or anticipation? She had no idea. While they finished up lunch, Clay ironed out some of the details. He told her to buy whatever body wash she used in the shower and bring it with. That way she wouldn't smell any different when she got home. He reminded her to bring enough make-up as well. He planned on destroying what she put on in the morning.

The more he talked, the more excited she got. She'd never done anything like that before, never even thought about it, but now that she'd committed herself, she couldn't wait.

Not being an old pro at cheating, Michelle was finding it difficult to act normal at home. At times, the fear and worry had her on edge. Other times it was the guilt, and sometimes it was eagerness. She was working hard to act normally, but Adam sensed something was wrong.

His first hint was on Monday night when they were making love. Michelle was usually very passionate, but that night she seemed distracted like she had something else on her mind. He asked her about it the next day, but she denied anything was amiss. She apologized and pawned it off as just being tired, then made a conscious effort to get better at portraying herself.

By mid-week, everything seemed back to normal until she piqued his curiosity again, Thursday night.

They never kept any kind of schedule for making love. Some weeks it was only once or twice, other weeks it'd be three or four times. With no kids, they could do it whenever the urge hit them. If Michelle was in the mood, she'd throughout little hints before going to bed, but it was almost always Adam who started things off.

It was the night before Michelle was going to cheat on her husband. She laid in bed as the guilt was really getting to her. A thousand times she thought of calling it off, but each time the excitement and her desire won out. She looked over at Adam lying beside her and knew he wasn't asleep yet. Clay told her they would each reconfirm the love for their spouses the following night, after their tryst. She was going to do it one better by making love to her man before and after.

She reached over and slid her hand down his chest and stomach until she reached his cock. "Are you sleeping?" she whispered in his ear.

Adam was a little surprised, but seeing his cock was already as hard as iron, he wasn't about to turn her down. She couldn't see the grin that stretched from ear to ear. "Is my little sex kitten horny?"

Her own smile widened. "I want to make love to you."

He could feel her desire, the need to express the way she felt about it as well as how he felt about her. It was the wee hours of the morning before their passions sated. By the time they were drifting off to sleep, a lot of the guilt Michelle was feeling had dissipated in the throes of their lovemaking.

The next day, Michelle was feeling a little better. She had proven her love for Adam the night before and she'd do it again that evening. That should make up for the indiscretion she had planned for in between.

Although the studio that Adam worked for was a little north of downtown, they both left for work at the same time and took the same route. Adam just escaped the Kennedy expressway two exits before his lovely wife.

When Michelle walked into the newsroom, Clint called her over to his desk.

"Michelle, here's your press badge for that fundraiser today. They said you didn't need anything to get on the bus. If anyone says anything, just show them this," he said, handing her the Bartlett press pass. "I'm not expecting anything earth-shattering, but try not to fall asleep, huh."

"I'll make sure my eyes are wide open all day," she chuckled.

"Okay, the bus doesn't leave until nine but you might as well get going. Maybe you can pick up some scuttlebutt at the headquarter before you leave."

"Thanks, Clint. I'll have time to pick up a Latte at Starbucks's on the way over."

"Uck," he said while crinkling his nose. "Disgusting; go on, get going."

So far so good, she thought as she headed toward her clandestine rendezvous.

It was eight-forty when she pulled into the parking lot just down from headquarters. The Bartlett campaign rented the lot when they leased the building so their employees didn't have to pay thirty dollars a day to park. She spotted Clay's Cadillac, but he wasn't in it. She assumed he was inside and wondered what to do. She decided to wait. She was checking her bag to make sure she had everything when she saw him walking toward her with a big smile. She rolled her window down.

"I told Char I was driving so no one will be wondering why I'm not on the bus," he told her. "You know where the Ohio House is on La Salle?"

"Yes, of course."

"I was going to get a room at the Marriott on Michigan but the parking there stinks. The Ohio has its own off-street parking lot. Give me about a five-minute head start. I'll check in and text you the room number."

"Okay," she said with a slightly shaky voice.

*****

Adam had just finished two days of photographing purses and was getting ready to shoot a new line of women's winter coats when his boss approached.

"Adam, how'd you like the day off?"

He was at a loss. He was setting up the lighting and backdrops for a big project that would take three or four days to shoot. He didn't understand why they would be giving him the day off. "Ah, did I do something wrong?" he questioned.

"No, of course not. West Wind Fashions isn't ready for the shoot. They just called and said they're running late and won't have things ready until Monday. I'm still charging them for the day, so your salary is covered. I looked at the schedule to see if there was something else you could shoot in the meantime, but nothing fits; so, you might as well go home and mow the grass or something."

"Sounds good to me," Adam responded. He was already forming a plan. Instead of hopping on the Kennedy and heading home, he turned toward downtown. Fifteen minutes later, he was walking into Bartlett's campaign headquarters. Char was sitting at her desk and greeted him with a warm smile. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Adam Rogers--Michelle's husband."

"Oh, yes; you took our new campaign photos. My name is Char. I pretty much run the front office. Your pictures are a big hit around her. Everyone likes them."

"That's nice to know," he said while stretching out his hand to shake. "Hi, Char, my wife has mentioned you."

"She's a nice lady, I like her."

"Yeah, me too," he replied with a chuckle. He glanced down at her desk. "Wow, I haven't seen one of those in a long time."

Her eyes followed his. "Oh, the Rolodex?" she said, flipping a couple of the pages with her fingers. "Yeah, computers are great, but not for everything. I can find a number faster with this than you can click a mouse."

"Well, I'm hoping you can help me. I unexpectedly have the day off. I know Michelle is on her way to Peoria but I don't know her schedule or where she's going. I want to run home and pack a couple of bags, then meet her down there. I thought we'd spend the weekend, kind of a mini-vacation."

"Aw, that's nice. I wish my husband was that romantic, but I'm afraid I have to spoil your plans," Char replied. "They were supposed to have a big luncheon at the Civic Center at one o'clock. Unfortunately, the manager just called a little while ago to tell me they had a fire last night and have to cancel the whole thing.

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes; I called Terry and he told the bus driver to turn around. They should be back here in half an hour or so, if you want to wait."

Adam looked at his watch. It was only a little after ten. "I suppose she'll have to go back to the newsroom then. Well, maybe I'll stick around town and buy her lunch. Yeah, I'll wait for her. Maybe she can talk her boss into giving her the day off as well," he remarked with a smile. "Is there a Starbuck's around here?"

"Right around the corner. Would you mind getting me a Blond Roast?" she asked, reaching for her purse.

"It's on me, Char."

While Michelle and Clay were working up a sweat at the Ohio Inn, Char and Adam were killing time discussing Terry's chances to win the election. After a while, he glanced at his watch.

"Char, it's been a pleasure, but I think I'm going to go wait outside. I want to make sure I don't miss her if she decides to walk straight to her car and not come inside."

"Sure, Adam. The bus should be here any minute. It was nice meeting you. Say hi to your lovely wife for me."

"Will do," he replied on his way out the door. His car was right down the street. From there he could easily see everyone as they departed from the bus so he took a seat on the corner of his trunk, he didn't have long to wait.

Terry was the first one off. He didn't look happy as he walked across the sidewalk and straight into his headquarters. Adam wandered closer as the others exited. Some went directly inside, others headed in the direction of their cars. He was standing right there as the last person stepped down and the driver closed the door.

"Hey, wait a minute," he yelled, getting the driver's attention. "Where's Michelle? Where's the redhead?"

"Sorry, bud; not redheads on this trip."

What the hell, he thought. That's when he realized he hadn't seen Clay either. Why wouldn't Clay be on the damn bus? He pulled out his phone and tapped his wife's number but it went straight to voicemail. Maybe she found out about the fire ahead of time and was back at the paper. It was his next call.

"Hi Clint, it's Adam Rogers, is Michelle there?"

"No, Adam, didn't she tell you? She left earlier this morning. She's on her way to Peoria to cover a fundraising luncheon for the Bartlett campaign."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. Thanks Clint, it wasn't anything important. I'll catch her at home."

His concern was growing. He knew phone reception was spotty on the way to Peoria so he tried her number again... same result. He still had Clay's number from when they arranged Terry's shoot. He wondered if they were driving down there together. He was going to be pissed if that was the case, but at least he'd know where she was. Like Michelle's, it too went directly to voicemail. He was starting to get a really bad feeling, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions. He decided to wait another ten minutes then try again. Voicemail again, this time he left a message. Michelle, call me as soon as get this message.

He wondered if someone inside the headquarters could tell him anything but when he walked in he found everyone, including Char, was in the back room with the door shut. He didn't like what he was thinking, but it was too much of a coincidence that both Michelle and Clay were MIA. He walked to the other side of Char's desk and found Clay's card. It had three numbers, his cell, his wife's cell, and home. He pulled the card out and stuck it in his pocket before leaving.

Now what, he wondered. He sure didn't want to act like a jealous fool and start making accusations that he couldn't back up. He decided to head for home to think. As he pulled into his parking space and shut the car off, he tried her number again, still nothing. He was just walking into their apartment when his phone rang. Immediately he thought, thank God, but was sadly disappointed as he looked at the display and saw it was the paper calling. "Hello."

"Hi, Adam, it's Clint. Hey, did you ever get a hold of Michelle.? I just heard that luncheon she's supposed to be covering was canceled. She should have been back here by now but I haven't heard from her. I tried calling but I can't get through."

Adam couldn't help a small sigh of growing suspicions. "I know, Clint. I'm getting worried. I was there when everybody came back on the bus and she wasn't with them. Did she say anything about driving down there with anyone?"

"No, although I guess that's possible. It's about a two and a half-hour drive so if that's the case, they should be getting there any minute. I'm sure she'll call when she finds out it was canceled."

"Do me a favor, Clint, if she calls will you let me know immediately. I'm getting worried."

"I certainly will, Adam. I'm sure she's okay."

"I hope so, Clint, thanks."

He felt so helpless as he hung up. He heated a cup of coffee from the morning's dregs and went to sit in his recliner to think. It was almost twelve-thirty when he tried both Clay's and his wife's number again, still nothing. One more call before he pulled the trigger, he thought.