The Earrings

When I saw the earrings, I froze.  Were these real diamonds?  What were expensive-looking earrings doing in my husband’s carry-on bag?  I was moving the unzipped bag within the closet when I saw the gleam.  Paul took this bag on every business trip, including the one he took to New York two months ago.  They weren’t mine, so my worst fears were confirmed.  He was either seeing high-priced prostitutes or he was cheating on me.

I brought my woebegone suspicions to work with me, and my work suffered to the point everyone in the office began asking me what was wrong.  Ted Davis was particularly attuned to my moods.  Ted was a handsome, single guy who had all the girls in the office aflutter when he talked to them.  He always treated everyone with respect, and I never saw him make any untoward advances to any of the gals, including me.  Ted was a great listener, so when he asked me if everything was okay, I vented.

“Don’t be so quick to blame him, Carol.  I’m sure there’s a good explanation for the earrings.”

He offered a couple of scenarios that may explain their appearance in the carry-on bag, but even Ted realized how improbable they were.  “He’s probably got a fuck buddy in every city,” I said angrily.  Ted never heard me cuss, so the f-word threw him.  He urged a conciliatory approach with my husband, which was weird coming from another man.  I put my hand on his and thanked him for listening to my problems.

“If you need a shoulder to cry on, you know where I am.”  Any other man saying that would have pissed me off, but I knew Ted, and I knew he meant well.

I tried to summon the courage to bring up the earrings with Paul, but every chance was wasted as I chickened out each time.  Like that Jack Nicholson movie line, maybe I couldn’t handle the truth if I knew what it was.  I’d hidden the earrings amongst my own jewelry, but every so often I would dig them out and look at them.  Then I’d cry.

There were no clues before this.  I’d never cheated on Paul, nor did I ever dream of doing so.  Except for his business trips, Paul and I were always together, and he always seemed happy about that.  We were in love, which wasn’t often the case with long-married couples.  Our life was perfect.

Who was I kidding?  I did have suspicions, though if forced I couldn’t really pin any of them down.  When Paul returned from business trips he’d often claim exhaustion and didn’t want to make love to me.   Wouldn’t a period of abstinence make him hornier?  When I bought new clothes or got a new hairstyle he didn’t compliment me like he used to do.  Was it normal marriage complacency, or something more?  Then there was the trip where he “lost” his wedding band, supposedly since he had recently lost weight working out and it “must have slipped off.”  No, I never found the clichéd lipstick stain on a shirt, or smell the hint of another’s cologne on him, but that didn’t assuage my fears.

I couldn’t come out and accuse him, and who knew what story he’d tell about the earrings anyway, so I sulked and felt like the loneliest person in the world.

In the office, Ted saw my melancholy right away.  He didn’t pry, yet he began doing little things for me, like get me coffee or bring me lunch.  Before now I would’ve thought these actions by a male colleague boorish and chauvinistic, but they were a welcome distraction from the gloominess that had settled over me.

It was inevitable, I guess, that even though Ted never made an overt pass I began to view him differently.  The guy was a tall, handsome devil, with smiling eyes and a quick wit.  His empathetic attention was genuine, I could feel it.  So, maybe I’d make the pass.  I asked him to lunch.

I know he sensed a change in me, and I think he was attracted to that change.  I’d worn a dress that was probably a bit too dressy and maybe a bit too short for the office, and he complimented on how good it looked on me.  I knew it showed off my legs exceptionally well, and I knew he noticed, as I caught him looking a few times.  Seated in a small café a couple of blocks from the office, I slid the dress’s hem up my thighs the next time I saw him look.  I can’t remember the last time I was this flirtatious, but it felt good.  As we ate and talked, I played with my hair.  I’d read somewhere that playing with your hair was sending a signal that you were available, and the moisture in my panties signaled I was more than that.  I felt naughty.  It felt good being naughty. I wasn’t thinking about Paul while flirting with another man, and that was exceptionally naughty.

How bold could I be?  How far would I go with this?  Ted had a sailboat and occasionally invited single gals in the office to go sailing with him.  I’d heard ladies room chatter about the dates, and so far Ted came across as an okay guy who did love sailing.  None of the girls he dated shared sex stories so I had no idea how aggressive he may be, but I was willing to find out.

“What do you have planned for the weekend?” I asked.  “I’m a golf widow on Saturdays, so my excitement will probably be an old movie on TV.”

“I usually take the boat out if the weather cooperates.  Why don’t you come out for a sail with me?”

“I’d love to, Ted.  What do I bring?”

“Your suit and a smile.  You’ve been so down lately I want to see you smile, that’s all.”

“I love the water.  I’ll be smiling,” I said.

That evening I pulled my white bikini from the bottom of a drawer and went into my bathroom to try it on.  I was gratified it still fit, and still looked good on me.  I wondered if Ted would try something, or if he did, would I let him.

By early Saturday morning I wasn’t as sure of myself.  My husband went off to the golf course with his buddies and I wondered what I was going to do.  You might say I was chickening out.  I was about to throw myself at another man because I suspected my husband of cheating on me.  I wanted to give Paul a second chance, and ask him if he loved me.  I dialed his cell but it went straight to voicemail.  I called the course’s clubhouse and asked for him, but the man who answered said he hadn’t seen Paul and wasn’t expecting him to play that day.  He should have been there by now.  I fumed.  Was golf an alibi to see another woman?

Okay, I was going sailing.

Instead of calling Ted to beg off the date, I called and asked him to pick me up.  Somehow I figured he’d have a showy sports car, but instead he pulled up to my house in a conservative Buick sedan.  When I climbed into the car, he complimented the house before I pulled a bottle of good champagne from my bag and showed him.  “To christen my maiden voyage,” I said.

“I think we’ll drink it and not smash the bottle against the hull.”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Ted always looked great in the office, but he looked even better in shorts and a polo shirt.  I noticed that he had no observable hair on his tanned legs and arms, and right away I had a mental image of other parts of his body waxed smooth.  It was wet panties time again.

We engaged in small talk on the way to the marina, mostly about work.  He asked about my husband, and if he was okay with me going sailing with him.  I didn’t tell Ted that Paul didn’t know, just that when he played golf, that’s all he thought about.

He said, “I’ve tried golf a few times but couldn’t get past the frustration.  Besides, it always seemed to me that the guys I played with just used it as an excuse to get away from their wives or girlfriends and drink.  I’m more the solitary type anyway… much rather be out on the water that walking around a golf course.”

The ‘get away from their wives’ part sure sounded like Paul’s motivation, considering all I was discovering.  I pictured the earrings in my mind, and imagined a woman lying under him with them on and nothing else.  Who was he fucking today when he should have been golfing?

I had a mental image of Ted’s sailboat but when we got to the marina, his boat turned out to be bigger than I imagined.  “You sail this thing alone?” I asked.

“I mostly do, but today I have a crew.”  Meaning me.

“Of course I have no idea what to do, so you’ll have to teach me.  Do you put all your girlfriends to work when they’re on your boat?”

He blushed, probably because my phraseology lumped me in with his girlfriends.  “If you’re gonna sail with this captain, you have to earn your keep,” he said and laughed.

We each carried a bag aboard, though his was bigger than mine.  As if reading my mind, he indicated his oversized duffle bag and said one word: “Provisions.”  He excused himself, went below and quickly changed into his bathing suit.  When he came back up, all he had on were the shorts and a pair of topsider shoes.  The view was marvelous.  Besides untying a couple of ropes, he told me to sit and relax while he got an engine going to sail us out of the harbor.

As we moved away from land, he began setting the sails.  I helped him with a couple of the chores but basically stayed out of his way and watched him.  He moved in an effortless, athletic way that made him even more attractive.  The wind wasn’t strong so we were moving at what I thought of as a leisurely pace through the water, which was correspondingly relatively calm.

“You can go below and change into your suit if you want.  Watch your step.”  When I came back up on deck in my bikini, he whistled and said, “Don’t be angry with me for saying this, but you look a whole lot better than I imagined you would.”

“And what did you imagine; cellulite, wrinkles, bulges?”

“I’m not going there,” he said, and we both laughed.

We sailed in silence, enjoying the feel of the wind and the occasional sea spray, after a while not seeing another boat.  “Do you know where you’re going?” I asked.

“I know where we are but not where we’re going.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I know how to navigate but I usually don’t preselect a destination.  I just like to sail.”

“You look like you like to tan too,” I said, noticing (how could I help it) that as his suit slid down his lean torso, exposing his waist, I saw no tan line.

He blushed a bright crimson, and said, “Er, I usually tan out here when I’m alone.”

“You know, that sounds like a great idea,” I said, and after looking around to see no other boat on the horizon, I reached behind me and untied my top, casting it aside.  His eyes were glued to my tits.  “You know, it’s alright by me if you want to do your usual sunbathing,” I said to him.

“That’s okay” he muttered, still staring.  Finally, “Oh Carol…you’re so beautiful, and not like any of the girls in the office.”

“Thank you, and of course I’m different…I’m older and more experienced.”

“And married.”

“That’s true, but I’m here, aren’t I?”

I stayed topless but I couldn’t get him out of his swim shorts.  He sailed us toward a small island that turned out to be nothing more than a pile of rocks.  Well away from the rocks he dropped sails, and then anchored.  We popped the cork on the champagne, and his “provisions” turned out to be a full picnic’s worth of meats and cheeses.

He remained nervous around me until after we ate our fill of the good food and killed the champagne, and I said, “Relax, Ted.  Like I said before, I’m here, so that means for today I’m not married.”

I moved to him and we kissed, tentatively at first until his nervousness dissipated.   He placed a hand at my breast while I worked his shorts down.  With our lips fused and our tongues dancing, I only felt his lean, muscled abdomen below the waistline.  As I awkwardly pulled down his shorts, his erection sprang out and brushed my hand.  I moaned.  His hand moved from my breasts, down, down, inexorably down until he pulled the side string of my bottoms to untie it, and he found my wet and willing womanhood.

I said, “Take me, Ted…take me.”

He said he didn’t have a condom.

I said, “Who gives a shit.”

We fucked missionary right there on the deck of his boat.  I wrapped my legs around him and held on.  I gave no thought to what I was doing and instead went with the moment, luxuriating in every marvelous thrust of his marvelous manhood.  He hit some places within me Paul hadn’t hit in ages, and before I knew it I was screaming across the ocean waves.  I had no idea if he came or not, but once we separated, the creampie at my pussy told the tale.

Our lustful desires now suitably consummated and the sea still calm, we dove overboard and swam as naked as the fish around us.  Back aboard, we lay next to each other and sunbathed.  When he spread sunscreen on me, it was sensual foreplay.

“I never figured this…would ever happen,” he said.  “You were like the unattainable woman, the one I’d never be able to…”

“You’re the best looking guy in the office, and eligible, with every gal after you, so why me?  Have you really lusted after me all this time?”

“It’s more than lust, Carol.  You’re the kind of woman I’ve dreamed of but seemed out of reach.  The younger girls don’t do it for me.”

“But I do?”

“Yes…more than I can explain.”

“Oh, Ted.  I don’t want to give you any false hopes.  You deserve more than to be a rebound or revenge lover, and that’s my regret for being here, nothing else.”

“I really mean this; I don’t care about your motivation, or if you’re having problems in your marriage.  I’m simply the luckiest man in the world to have you with me today…and this…”

I shushed him with a finger at his lips, and said, “I’m pretty lucky myself, being here, with you, making love.  You’re a good man and a good lover…”

It was his turn to shush me.  With his lips.

I couldn’t get enough of him, and his magnificent body, all tanned, smooth and sinewy.  We kissed and fondled but neither one of us had to work hard to arouse the other.  I rode him cowgirl while running my hands over his hard abs and chest.  He reciprocated by cupping and caressing my swollen and sensitive breasts.  I rode him hard.

“Ohhhhhhhh Goddddddddddddddd!” I bellowed as my orgasm hit me hard, shaking me to my core.  He pulled me down to lie on him and that’s when I felt the last of his ejaculatory spasms in my vagina.

“You’re the good lover, not me,” he muttered as we both relaxed in the afterglow of our climaxes. “I’ve never slept with anyone as hot as you are.”

After a bit more kissing and fondling we were back in the water for another nice swim.  “I could get used to this ‘Blue Lagoon’ existence,” I said.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-night-stand, or maybe I should say one-day-sail,” he said without a trace of humor.

“This day has been more to me than I can express.  We’ll have to see how things go, Ted, but I’d love to do it again.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Back on the boat we sun-dried before we put our suits on and set sail back to the marina.  We didn’t talk much, though both of us expressed our pleasure with the marvelous day on the ocean, along with the splendor of our extracurricular activities.

Once home, I refused to question my husband on where he’d been when he was supposed to be golfing.  Whatever he’d been doing, I figured I did alright by myself, still basking in the glow of Ted’s fantastic body and what he did with it.  I didn’t ask and Paul never said a word about where he’d really been.  He had the nerve to ask me how my day went, and I almost blurted out the truth.  Almost.

Ted and I danced around each other all week at the office, afraid to let on what had happened but powerless to stop our emotions from showing.  He invited me on another sailing excursion, and I quickly accepted.  It didn’t matter whether Paul was golfing or not, I was going to be with Ted.

Also during the week I wondered whether my husband could “see” the change that had come over me.  I felt like a kid again, with all the raging hormones that went with it.  Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.  When Paul left the house to golf, I noticed he forgot his favorite golfing shoes.  I hoped he enjoyed her company, whoever she was.  I would certainly enjoy my day.

The harbor was calm but once we hit open water it grew rougher, and he had to work harder with the sails in the unpredictable wind.  I should have said “we” since he did put me to work, though I don’t know how much I really helped.  The way he looked at me said he didn’t care if I had any sailing skills at all, he wanted me, and that made me horny for him too.  I loved looking at him in those unguarded moments when he was busy, and I could study his stunningly tanned and sinewy body.  Oh yes, I was horny!  When he selected a spot to anchor not very far from last time, I quickly disrobed and went to him.

“Ohhhhhhh Carol,” he muttered when I slid his shorts down and put my mouth to work on his swelling cock.  I gave him the best blow job I knew how to give, and when he came I swallowed everything he unloaded down my throat.  “What about you?” he asked when we were done.

“Don’t worry about me, big guy.  Why don’t we relax, get some sun, maybe swim a bit, then we can take care of the unfinished business that’s my libido.”

Like the first time, we packed some cheese and cold cuts.  We made humongous sandwiches and teased each other about sex and appetites.  We drank a lot of wine, so much so Ted cautioned me about swimming while buzzed.  “The sharks will think you’re part of their cocktail hour,” he said.

“There are sharks in these waters?  Why didn’t you say anything last week?” I asked incredulously.

Ted laughed and told me he was kidding.  I punched him in the arm and then tackled him.  Before I knew it we were in a sixty-nine position and he was giving me the most heavenly pussy licking imaginable.  He was rushing me toward orgasm with his tongue tip and I was too breathless to orally reciprocate.  When my first tremor struck, I flopped onto my back and urged him between my splayed legs.  Our lovemaking was animalistic, and I was the bitch in heat.  After I guided his stiff cock into me, he fucked me hard and I was screaming out in orgasm after orgasm before I knew what hit me.

We ate and drank some more, and then we fucked again with him taking me from behind, a strong hand at each hip, as I leaned over the side railing watching fish and cumming hard.  His skill and stamina were amazing, and he elicited multiple orgasms again from me before he came.

As we sunned ourselves in post-coital lassitude, he tentatively brought up the topic of a long-term relationship between us.  “Let’s not go too fast with this,” I said.  “I like you, Ted, and I most certainly love these sailing trips and everything that goes with them…”

“Like the sex,” he interrupted, smiling broadly.

I had my hand on his hard abs, and slowly moved it downward.  “Oh yes, the sex has been wonderful,” I crooned as my palm closed on his manhood.  I felt it swell to my touch.  “You are insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only with you,” he moaned.

I absently stroked him back to a firm erection while ironically thinking of confronting my husband on his extramarital dalliances.  Did I want to know the truth?  How does Paul’s apparent cheating give me license to do the same with Ted?  I couldn’t give Ted an answer to his question on our future without first settling things with Paul.

I didn’t say a thing as I straddled him and lowered myself onto his erect shaft.  Riding him cowgirl was an experience with the boat rocking on the swells the way it did.  He clutched my breasts as I began to rhythmically slam my pelvis up and down, taking his length deep into my hungry vagina, a hunger that he’d awakened.  My orgasm wasn’t nearly as explosive as the last time, but when he cried out that he was going to cum and I felt the throbbing impulse of his jetting cock, several wavelets of joy pulsed through me.  His third orgasm today and he was still spewing quite a volume.  When I dismounted him, that volume was dribbling down my thigh in rivulets, and he saw it and smiled.

“Oh yeah…baby makers for sure.  Aren’t you glad I’m on birth control?” I said, smiling.

He was speechless.

Now more or less sober, we finally went for a swim, mostly to clean the remnants of lovemaking from our sated bodies.  “Will we do this again?” he asked me as we climbed back aboard.

Just looking at him, my mind screamed Yes! but I didn’t vocalize that, instead saying “We’ll see, Ted.  We’ll see,” which was my stock answer every time I didn’t wish to face reality.  My reality was my marriage and Paul’s infidelities—and now mine.  We’ll see.

As we sailed back home, I thought of how much I was enjoying sailing and Ted’s company, as much as the great sex.  “I’ll see you Monday,” he said after we kissed at the dock.  I wasn’t in love with my job, but now Mondays couldn’t come fast enough.

We had the bug.  As soon as we saw each other in the office we wanted each other.  Midmorning, Ted whispered in my ear, “Jake’s old office…no windows.”

That’s where we spent our lunch break.  We made sure no one saw us.  We slipped into the unused office, locked the door, and went at each other like we had on his boat; like wild, hungry animals.  I dusted off the desk top, dropped my panties and hiked up my skirt, and then sat on the desk.  His slacks down and his cock up, he slid into me with ease, I was that lubricated and ready.  Our hips locked into a fast rhythm as we bucked against each other.

“Ohhhhh, Tedddddddd, fuck me harderrrrrrrrrrr,” I sang, though I didn’t know how much harder he could than he already was.

“Ohhhhh, Carolllllllll, you’re soooooooooo hot, soooooooooooo gooooooood,” he groaned, pumping furiously.

I hoped no one heard us.

We knew enough to temper our noise when we came.  Cleaning ourselves up as much as we could in the dusty office and straightening out our clothes, we remained silent.  I couldn’t speak for Ted, but I needed what we just did, and could get used to it very quickly.  We snuck out, and again, I didn’t think anyone saw us.  Twice more during the week he draped me over Jake’s old desk and fucked me from behind.  I had to put my fist at my mouth to stifle the orgasmic screams lest we be found out.

Come Saturday, my husband didn’t play golf because of poor weather, so I made an excuse and went to Ted’s where we fucked all day.  His boat wasn’t even on the menu.  We did it first on his sofa, then in the shower, then after I let the poor slob recuperate a while, we did it on his bed.  I didn’t remember ever having so much sex in a week’s time in my entire life.  When you are as sore from sex as I was, it definitely was a ‘good’ sore!

Lying in bed with a totally spent Ted, he began talking about us in the long-term. I stopped him, saying “I’m loving this, but I’m married and anything I decide to do is way more complicated than I can comprehend at the moment.”

He said he understood, but his hang-dog expression said otherwise.  I’d have to be careful.

The next week was more of the same, slinking away a couple of times to the unused office and banging away our lunch hour.  On Saturday, we spent another glorious day out on the ocean, though we only made love once.  Once was enough though, since as usual, my orgasm was heightened by it being brought on by Ted and his amazing, athletic body.

Amidst thoughts of a possible life together with my new lover, I was confronted by my husband when I got home, and with his mother visiting, no less.

“Honey, we have to talk,” he said, ominously.  Was his mother ill?  Was that what this would be about?

“Should I be sitting down?” I kiddingly said before sitting on the sofa.  He remained standing.

He began solemnly, “Look, I know you’ve been sleeping with another man, and it didn’t take our sudden lack of sex to tell me so.  What I want to know is why?”

I was flabbergasted.  “You?  A man who’s been cheating on me all along?  You have the audacity to say that I’m having an affair?”

“Well, that wasn’t quite a denial, though I’m not surprised you would try to divert attention back on me.  I’ve never cheated on you.  Ever.  I couldn’t, but evidently you could.  Easily.”

“What about the Saturdays you were supposed to be playing golf?  Which floozy have you been fucking?  Janet from your office?”

“I love it.  You actually were checking up on me?  Okay, I did lie.  I wasn’t golfing.  I’ve spent three of the past few Saturdays setting up your surprise birthday party and shopping for a special present.  And this is what I get, you fucking someone behind my back.”

“Birthday?...Party?...Shopping?” I muttered like the village idiot.  “But the earrings…”

“What earrings?  I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t bullshit me.  I found them in your carry-on bag after your last trip.  Whose are they?”

He had a puzzled look on his face as my mother-in-law entered the room.  Had she been eavesdropping the whole time?  “Did I hear something about earrings?  Did you find mine?”

“You lost some?”

She said yes, and described the earrings exactly. “Where were they?”

“In Paul’s carry-on,” I answered, “I’ll go get them.”  As I went into the bedroom to retrieve the earrings, I pondered all that had been said.  Paul wasn’t cheating after all?  Oh God, what have I done?

“Wow, I thought they were gone forever.”  She turned to Paul and said, “I forgot that I used your bag.  Your father gave me these for our anniversary years ago.  Oh dear, I thought I lost one more memory of him.”

Despite his anger, Paul was discreet enough not to continue the discussion until his mother left the room.  “You still haven’t answered me.  Have you been having an affair?”

I denied everything, but I wasn’t a good liar and I knew he didn’t believe me one bit.  He kept pressing me for the identity of my lover.  I kept denying everything, until I expected to hear a cock crow somewhere, like with Peter in the Bible.  Did all this with Ted happen because of unfounded suspicions of my husband or was it more?  Paul kept asking how I could have suspected him of infidelity.  He reiterated his love for me and how he’d always been faithful.  I felt like a selfish idiot.  But then I thought of Ted’s lean and sinewy body climbing between my parted thighs, and I knew going back to the way things had been in my marriage would be quite difficult.

Maybe one more sailing excursion.  Just one...

 

First published as a Kamilla Murphy story

© 2011

 

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