Mary Against the World Ch. 02

This story beings with a resume of Chapter 1 to bring you the reader up to date, in case you need it. I hope you like it.

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I spent the night alone in Susan's fancy hotel room with a Lake View from a high floor. It was such a palace! It's so nice when one's company pays for hotels. If you work for the right kind of company, the hotel is nice. If you don't, then it's the Red Roof Inn, or something equivalent.

Both my good friend Susan and my husband Matt worked for the right kind of companies, and Susan's hotel was the Swissotel Chicago, while my husband's was the Sofitel in downtown Chicago. They had both been sent to Chicago to "put out fires" by their respective companies. Susan's company, and Susan herself, were based in Miami, while my husband and his company were based in New York, where we live.

My husband Matt was extinguishing fires in the Chicago offices that were headed up by a man named Steve. I discovered, via a computer mix-up, that Matt was having a hot and heavy affair with a vixen named Carmen and was sharing her with Steve. Susan had decided to get to Steve to help me get even with my husband, but she was now sleeping with him, leaving me alone. I figured either her plan was a bit convoluted, or Steve was a hunk and Susan, herself being fairly 'easy' as men like to say, had succumbed to his charm.

It was bad enough that I had just learned Matt was cheating on me, but he had also promised my sexual favors to Steve in exchange for something, although I do not know what. I was not consulted in the matter. I am a loyal, sexually conservative, proper wife, and not chattel property that one can give away for a quick roll in the hay, so to say this outraged me when I learned about it by chance is a bit of an understatement. I was both angry and emotionally devastated.

I woke up naked and aroused in the hotel room bed, because I had fallen asleep with my vibrator Sappho (my secret name for it) in place inside me. I threw on a robe and ordered an elegant room service breakfast. The waiter who wheeled it in checked me out rather carefully, and it made me feel sexy. After he left I realized I should have closed the robe tighter. I should have closed it much tighter, since he probably got a very nice view of my boobs. Well, good for him, I thought. At that point I couldn't have cared less.

Susan called. She was at work, and she would meet me at the hotel around 5pm, and was that okay? I assured her it was. I asked how Steve was, and she said she could not talk right then but would give me the 411 later. I could hear voices in the background over the line, so I knew Susan was not alone.

"Just tell me then with a single word. 'Goodbye' for over the top wonderful, 'Ciao, ciao' for above average, 'Until later' for average (which does not mean bad!), and 'Later' for below average, in which case you have my sympathy," I said.

Susan said, "Okay then, Mary. Goodbye," and she hung up. I stood there, stunned. I knew Susan had high standards, and I had never before heard her describe sex with a man as 'wonderful,' let alone my formulation of 'over the top wonderful!' I was hoping she would say something like 'Ciao, ciao,' because I figured that was as good as it gets, given her high standards. Given how mediocre Matt is in bed, and that I married him, speaks volumes to how much easier to please I am than is Susan. Sex, however, is only one component of a marriage. There is love, respect, compatibility, shared interests and all that can compensate for mediocre sex. Right.

I also realized I was horny as hell. I could not remember ever being this horny before. What is it about your husband having an affair that makes one crave sex? Is that common? Does it happen to other women?

When I ask myself these kinds of questions, I go on the Internet for help in finding answers. I quickly found ten reasons why women cheat. They were

1. Emotional loneliness

2. Insecurity

3. Temptation and thrill

4. Just for the sex

5. Feeling unsatisfied in the relationship

6. Unsure of one's feelings

7. An excuse to leave the bastard

8. Desperation

9. Fear of commitment

10. Revenge

I could eliminate numbers 1, 2, 6, 8, and 9. That left temptation and thrills, which might explain the serendipitous fuck in the Chicago nightclub the previous night, unless it was 'just the sex.' I did not feel unsatisfied unless you count that my husband was cheating, and I had already decided, at least emotionally, to leave the bastard. The best one, though, was clearly 'Revenge.' Yeah, that was a good one.

It's ironic. I'm a sweetheart of a woman, always loving and supportive. I've never been vengeful, but right then I was breathing, no, snorting, revenge. I was getting off on revenge. Before I took revenge, however, I wanted to find out what exactly Steve had promised Matt in order for Matt to offer him sex with his wife, namely me. I waited impatiently for Susan to return.

This is putting aside the fact that Matt had never asked me about having sex with Steve, or anyone else. We had a loving marriage, or I thought that we had, and the idea of having sex with another man was unthinkable for me. I had no idea how Matt had planned to convince me of such a ridiculous thing that I would never do. What had he been thinking? What had he been smoking?

The sex the previous night in the nightclub was part anger, part revenge, and part surprise. Also, and this might help as an excuse, but I was very drunk. I was not expecting the man to fuck me, it just happened, and when it happened, well, I guess I enjoyed it. It was my first and only infidelity, and it came shortly after I had learned of him fucking that minx Carmen.

Now I had a day to kill in Chicago. Chicago is not Miami, and while there is a beach on the lake, the weather forecast was for snow and sleet. It had just become April, but none of the trees had leaves yet, and even the spring flowers had not yet appeared, except of course for daffodils. So perhaps snow and sleet in early April was not that unusual for Chicago.

To pass the time, I went to the Art Institute, one of the world's greatest museums. One can lose oneself there. I gravitated to the impressionist paintings. They had the famous Seurat, and some beautiful Monet paintings of water lilies, and well, it's pointless to list all of their wonderful paintings. I spent hours with them.

I was getting weak and realized I needed lunch. I went to the Museum Café and got some food and looked fruitlessly for an open table. A good-looking man gestured for me to come sit at his table, so I did, thanking him.

"I've noticed you wandering around the impressionists all morning. You are so pretty I wondered if you had not escaped from one of the paintings," he said.

I giggled. "You're a flatterer," I said.

"In your case, I plead guilty," he said. We got to talking, and his name was Stefan. He was German, and an artist, and he wanted me to model for him. Well, I am not a rube, and I knew that was just a line, and I explained I only had the afternoon until 5pm and then I had to meet my husband. Okay, I was meeting Susan, not the lying and cheating bastard Matt who did not even know that I was now in Chicago, but I was not about to tell Stefan that! Usually, the mention of a husband stops cold a pick-up attempt.

I ended up agreeing to pose for some photos, since he claimed he could paint my image from the photos. I felt like having a little thrill, so I agreed. I had posed nude for some 'drink and draw' sessions when I was in college, and so I knew how to pose.

We went to his studio and he had a nice set-up, with lots of white screens and photo lamps and other stuff. It looked authentic. It sounded sleazy, though, when after the first hour of posing and a few glasses of white wine, he asked if I could pose in a bra and panties.

I had anticipated this question, since I figured his real goal was to enjoy my body in one of the more thorough ways men like to enjoy women's bodies. I had my reply ready. "I'm married," I said, "and I don't cheat."

"That's fine. I do confess I would love to make love to you, but I respect your attitude and admire it, and right now I just want to photograph you," Stefan said.

Suddenly I was insecure. Insecurity is reason number 2 above, and one that I had dismissed out of hand. "Really?" I asked. "You want to make love to me?"

"Does that surprise you?" he asked.

"No, no, of course not," I quickly replied. "Well, maybe a little. We just met a few hours ago, you hardly know me, and already you want to take me to bed?"

"It's a man thing," Stefan said. "You see a sexy, beautiful woman, and any healthy man would simply want to get to know you intimately. Evolution probably caused our attitudes. Propagation of the species and all, you know," he said. He was clutching at straws, and I was enjoying his awkwardness.

"Well, you can't propagate with me, Stefan," I said, and I paused. He was already nodding in understanding. "I'm on the pill," I said, and I thoroughly enjoyed how startled Stefan instantly was. I was not going to have sex with him, but I could sure as hell tease him!

I undressed down to my bra and panties. I was glad I had worn a matching set of lacy, skimpy lingerie. I looked hot, and I knew it. My insecurity was evaporating as I saw Stefan's eyes fill with longing and lust. That was really all I needed just then, to have a handsome man clearly want me. He even had an erection. I became happy, and I relaxed.

Stefan took a truckload of digital pictures, twisting me into all sorts of positions. Some of them were highly sexually suggestive. He would come to me, and move my arms and legs around, touching me close to intimate areas where a girl wants only her husband to go.

"Well, I guess we're done now," Stefan said, with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"Okay," I said. "Shall I go then, or is there another step?"

"Another step?" Stefan asked.

"Well, I assumed this whole photo shoot thing was just an attempt to get me naked for your jollies, wasn't it?" and as I said this I turned around presenting my backside to Stefan. "Give me a hand with the bra clasp, won't you, big boy?"

I knew I had shocked Stefan, but even shocked and surprised, he was not stupid, and he quickly unhooked my bra, and I removed it. "Like this?" I asked, "Or without panties, too?"

"Without panties would be great, Mary," he said, and I sexily, slowly, pulled my panties down and off, leaving myself naked in front of this 'artist' I had met only hours earlier that day. My extreme anger over my husband Matt promising my sexual favors to someone else was driving this crazy behavior on my part.

"No pictures of me naked though, I'm afraid," I said.

"Then why did you strip?" Stefan asked, and I raised my eyebrows, giving him a look of incredulity. "Oh," he said, and he reached for me.

We kissed a long time, his hands exploring every inch, every nook and cranny of my body, from the undersides of my boobs, to my nipples, to the crack of my ass, to my asshole itself (he's German, after all) and finally, at long last, his fingers found my pussy. It was worth the wait. The man truly knew how to finger a girl. He had me screaming in ecstasy in no time.

I could not explore his assets myself, though, because he remained fully dressed. I didn't care. I would not have minded giving him a blowjob. I give a good blowjob, and I like to show off, but if he wanted to stay dressed, then I felt that I could just as easily skip it, and I did.

Around the time he decided he wanted to possess me, having already driven me to two climaxes with what might well have been the most talented fingers in all Chicagoland, it was time for me to leave to go to meet Susan.

I told him, "Yes, Stefan, I'd love to fuck you now," I lied, "you know I would, but I have to run to go to meet my husband. I enjoyed knowing you, and I hope you enjoy the pictures you took of me."

I quickly got dressed, gave him a lingering kiss goodbye, and hailed a taxi on Michigan Avenue. I was pleased with myself. Fuck Matt, I thought, and I giggled.

Susan had arranged a dinner for her and me together with Steve that same night. "He must think I'm a real floozy after the show I put on last night in the nightclub," I said. I was a little nervous.

"And what does he think of me? I let him take me home and go to town on me," Susan said.

"Details, please, bestie," I said.

"We only have minutes, so let me summarize. A blowjob, then he ate me out, then he fucked me, and later I got him hard again using my mouth and he fucked my ass. All holes filled. This morning he fucked me again, for forty minutes!" Susan said.

"Jesus," I said.

"Right," Susan said, in her signature style, stretching the word into three syllables.

"Did he tie you up? Take pictures? Invite friends over to enjoy the fun?" I asked, teasing my slutty friend.

"No, none of that," Susan said, surprising me by taking me seriously. When I had asked if he had tied her up, the sexting picture of Matt's mistress Carmen, all tied up, naked, and waiting to be ravished, popped into my mind. I shivered.

We ran to Susan's room and dressed for the evening. I wore one of my Valentina outfits, and Susan wore an obscenely short skirt, and a pretty blouse. I'm not an objective, unbiased judge, but I think we both looked hot. Sizzling, even.

Steve surprised us by showing up with another man. He too was a hunk, and he called himself Frank. So, it was a double date, I guessed, and I also guessed that Frank was my date. I was not at all sure what Susan's plan was to learn what Matt wanted Steve to do at this point. I began to worry that she did not have a plan at all, and that she was just enjoying whoring around with Steve while she was in Chicago. If that were the case, I'd be annoyed.

I needed my own plan. Sometimes, one can think complicated thoughts in a split second, and this was one of those times for me. I had a plan. I needed clarity. "What's going on?" I asked. "Is this a date? A double date?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Steve said. "Frank and I have the prettiest dates in Chicago, too," he added.

"Amen," Frank said. "The sexiest, too," he added, looking directly at my rack. My Valentina outfit left my shoulders bare and hugged my body all the way down to an inch or so below my ass. I looked hot to trot sleazy, just the way I wanted to look.

"Excuse me, but whose date am I? Steve's, or Frank's?" I asked. Susan's eyes flashed at me. She wanted another wild time in the sack with Steve, I could tell. My guess is we all could tell that.

"Oh Mary, we're all modern people here. Let's just think of this as four people having fun, okay?" Steve replied.

"Sure," I said. I was beginning to worry. Was Steve planning group sex, some kind of mini orgy? That would really drive Matt up the wall! Wait a minute, Mary, I told myself. You are considering having group sex just to get revenge on that son of a bitch you call a husband, are you? That's sick. Get a grip!

My thoughts continued, I could not help it. So what if I were? I thought to myself. I'll tell you what, you slutty fool, I heard myself say to myself. You don't do ridiculous things you do not want to do, and normally would never do, just to seek out revenge on your cheating husband. Have a little self-respect. On the other hand, why not, if it feels good? I had just run out of answers.

My internal debate over, or at least postponed, I smiled and followed the men out to their car. The men took us to a truly wonderful restaurant. It was Mexican themed, and upscale. I had to decide between a margarita and a mojito. It seemed as if I had already consumed a month's worth of mojitos in Miami, so I ordered their top of the line margarita. I figured the men were paying anyway. Men treat the women, and we treat them to our bodies a little later. It was the best margarita I had ever had.

Three margaritas later I was babbling nonstop, having decided that Frank was a great guy. I would have been tempted, mightily tempted, had I not already been married. The four of us were in a booth, Frank next to me, and we faced Susan and Steve across the table.

The waiter came over finally to take our food orders, and Steve brought his hands up from his lap to the table for the occasion. I looked at Susan, and her eyes already had a sexual glaze. Two of Steve's fingers were wet, and somehow, I just knew from where the moisture on them had come.

After ordering, I excused myself to use the ladies, and I forced Susan to come with me. "What's the plan for Steve?" I asked her.

"You mean to learn what Matt wants from him in exchange for letting him fuck the blazes out of you?" Susan asked.

I winced when Susan put it like that, but we were both already drunk from what must have been three double strength margaritas, and I replied with a simple, "Yes."

"Well, my guess is that we're headed for group sex with Steve and Frank tonight," Susan said.

"No shit, Sherlock," I replied, not hiding my annoyance at being set up this way.

"We're just going to say no until Steve tells us what we want to know," she said.

"And if he does not, are you really going to forego letting him jump your bones?" I asked.

"I know I'm a slut, Mary, but I am in fact capable of saying no," Susan said, feigning outrage. "I think you should worry about what happens if he does in fact tell us what we want to know."

"Good point," I said. I shivered. "I am worried. I'm even very worried. What is Frank's role in all this?" I had not thought about having to fuck Steve (or Frank?) to get the information. I cynically thought that perhaps Susan could have taken care of that. But Susan's thoughts had the ring of truth to them. Now I was scared, and really at sea.

"To put it crudely, I think Steve is thinking that two pussies need two cocks."

"Maybe our two pussies need four cocks?" I suggested, and we both got a case of the giggles.

The toilet flushed, and a waitress emerged, looking at us with a mixture of incredulity, awe, and disgust. I flashed her my rings, complete with a diamond the size of Montana, and said, "Married. We're just fantasizing." The waitress visibly relaxed, and she smiled at us.

As we walked back to our table and to the men, I asked Susan, "How bad is Steve molesting you under the table?"

"Is it that obvious?" Susan asked.

"It is to me. I don't know about Frank. That waitress who overheard us in the ladies' just now might keep an eye on our table from now on, don't you think?" I said.

"It's not so bad. I'm sure it happens all the time," Susan said.

Now it was my turn to say, "Right," using three syllables, drawing it out over my tongue.

We returned to the table giggling, and the men were happy to see us so happy. Frank was now looking at me with expectant lust in his eyes, giving me yet another shiver up my spine.

The dinner progressed without further incident, and we had a lively conversation about Chicago versus New York versus Miami. I brought up the book by Norman Mailer (Miami and the Siege of Chicago, about the 1968 presidential campaign), but nobody else had read it, or had even heard of it.

The conversation later that followed evolved into politics. I was pleased that we all shared similar politics. If anything, Steve and Frank were closer to my own views about the world than was my own husband Matt. Susan's main issue was climate change, since she wanted Florida to be above water for a long time to come. I told her we'd lose southern Louisiana first, but that did not help. With some people, you just do not joke about certain things.

After dinner we went dancing. "Do you want a club with a strobe?" Steve asked me, with great import to the question.