Penny's Promiscuity Ch. 12: Consequences

"Can't we just..." I began but I knew it was futile.

"There's no other way, Penny. I can't trust you right now; you've forgotten what honesty means in a relationship. That trust is going to take some fixing - if it can be fixed at all. But first we need to know if we both want to fix it.

"For the next two weeks you do whatever you want to do. Don't hold back; go for it! You and Lover Boy can fuck each other to death if you want but be ready to make your decision in two weeks Penny because I promise you I will be ready with mine."

My head was spinning. Was this really happening?

How had things got this crazy?

***

Half an hour later Pete drove away from the house, a small suitcase in the back of his car.

I watched through the lounge window, feeling the tears running down my cheeks and a dreadful churning in my stomach. I looked down at my left hand and the pale band of skin where my engagement and wedding rings had lain for over twenty years but were no longer.

Before leaving, my husband had told me to take off my wedding ring and give it to him. That ring hadn't left my finger since he had slid it into place in church all those years ago. I wasn't at all happy about this and refused at first but Pete was very serious, explaining that if I really was to feel free then there was no alternative.

I had argued but Pete had been very firm. Eventually I had given in; with some difficulty and the aid of kitchen soap I managed to wriggle the gold band off my third finger. Pete took off the slim gold crucifix that he usually wore around his neck and threaded the chain through the ring before slipping it back around his neck and tucking it into his shirt. I looked at my bare hand, at the pale band of skin where the ring had lain all those years and flexed my fingers. It already felt strange. It felt stranger still when Pete handed me back the ring I had placed on his finger so many years ago. I stared at it in my palm, dumbfounded before placing it on the table next to me.

It felt horrible.

"I'll see you in two weeks," he said as he picked up his case and made to leave.

"Please Pete," I protested one last time. "Can't we talk this through now? Can't we just go back..."

"No Penny, we can't. This is the only way. We both need time and space."

I nodded, my head lowered while he continued.

"If you're not here when I come back, I'll know what decision you've made and we'll separate. If you are here then we can talk. After that, if we both still want to put those rings back on each other's fingers then we have a chance of getting through this. If either of us is unsure then we'll know what to do."

"How do I contact you?" I asked.

"Don't try, unless it's an emergency. I won't call you. You're single, remember? Goodbye Penny."

"Have a safe trip," I said haltingly then added desperately, "I love you, Pete!"

"Enjoy your freedom Penny," was all the reply I got.

***

And so my two weeks of freedom began, whether I wanted them or not!

At first nothing in the house seemed to have changed, but then as reality dawned and my emotions swung from extreme to extreme, the home I had known so long seemed to change from minute to minute.

When I thought of Pete and our kids, its walls seemed to close accusingly around me; Penny the cheating slut was getting what she deserved. I wandered from room to room again, looking for anything to distract me from the horror of the situation; from the fact that my husband had left me because of my cheating; that there was a real prospect of my marriage coming to an abrupt end and that it was my fault we were in that position.

On the other hand, when I thought of Tony the world seemed much brighter. I had two whole weeks to enjoy what might become my new long term relationship. I could live with my lover, sleeping with him as long and as often as we wanted. It was what my husband had said he wanted me to do; Tony and I could be together without fear or guilt.

Right then I wanted to be with him so badly; to feel his strong arms round my skinny body; to feel the reassurance I needed that our love for each other was still strong. I called Tony twice more leaving increasingly anxious messages but there was still no reply.

I tried to watch television but couldn't concentrate; every programme seemed to feature sad, unhappy divorcees or spouses cheating. I tried to read but the paper was full of depressing news and my book, however worthy was too dull to hold my attention for more than a few minutes.

It was after eleven o'clock before my special phone rang. I had placed it on the kitchen table in full view to make sure I heard any calls or messages from Tony. There was no longer any need to keep it secret; my husband already knew how I had deceived him. As I put the phone out in full view, it was yet more evidence that things had changed.

I was in the lounge when the call finally came. On that phone there could only be one caller so I rushed through to the kitchen to answer it.

"Tony?" My voice was eager, breathless.

"Hi Penny," Tony's voice was anxious, uncertain. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm not okay; my husband's left me! Didn't you get my messages?" I demanded.

"Sorry," his voice was shaky. "I was... a bit tied up. I was out. I left my phone at home."

I should have asked who he was out with but I was too anxious to tell him what had happened; to give him the god news that for the next two weeks I was a single girl again; that I was finally able to do what he had told me so often he wanted; for me to move in with him and be his wife.

When I had finished, there was a little too long a pause before he replied.

"I'm sorry you had a row," he said.

The words were hopelessly inadequate but I was too emotional to notice.

"I could move in tomorrow after work. Maybe I should come round now?" I said, desperate to see him.

There was a longer pause.

"You do still want to live with me, don't you?" I asked, fully expecting an immediate and positive reply.

It didn't come.

"It's... it's a bit awkward," he mumbled. "Hannah's coming home."

My heart sank. Hannah was his daughter. More or less the same age as Isobel, she too was studying at University. Missing the future tense in his words, I wrongly assumed he had been out with Hannah earlier. Of course her presence in the apartment would make my living as Tony's wife impossible.

"How long is she home for?" I asked, seriously disappointed.

"I'm not sure. It's a study week and she's got boyfriend trouble."

I swore under my breath. What was it with bright, clever girls that made them run home from their studies whenever a boy upset them?

"Wouldn't she be better being with Julie?" I asked, referring to Tony's estranged, unfaithful wife. "What's the trouble?"

"I'll find out tomorrow I suppose," he replied. "And Hannah's still not talking to her mother."

Since Julie's very public affair with Darren, a Personal Trainer over twenty years her junior, both Hannah and her older brother had refused to stay with their mother in the family home. Hannah had initially refused to have any contact at all; I hadn't realised that this was still going on.

"Well, can we have dinner tomorrow evening?" I asked, getting more and more anxious to see him even if sex wasn't possible.

"Not with Hannah home," he said. My heart sank. "I suppose I could do lunch," he added, almost reluctantly.

"I'm in a meeting all day tomorrow," I told him, relieved to have at least some sign that he wanted to see me even if I couldn't make it.

"How about tomorrow after work?" he offered. "I could meet you in the coffee shop at five thirty."

"Is that the best we can manage?" I asked. "Now I'm free and single?"

I didn't add the words 'and desperate'.

"I'm sorry," Tony said "As soon as I know about Hannah I'll call. Maybe we'll have more time."

"I miss you," I whispered.

"Same here," came the rather flat reply.

"My Little Pink Pussy misses you too," I added cheekily, hoping to bring a much-desired sexual frisson back into our conversation.

"That's nice to know," Tony answered.

"Don't you want to fuck the living daylights out of my smooth, shaved, married cunt again?" I hissed.

"That would be nice," was all I heard from the man who only days ago had asked me to marry him.

A strange, unfamiliar feeling of nausea filled my belly. But then I heard the house phone ringing in another room. Maybe it was Pete calling! Maybe he had changed his mind?

"I'd better go now," I told Tony as I ran through to the lounge where the handset was, adding the three magic words. "I love you!"

"Okay. See you tomorrow," was his brief reply.

I pressed the 'end' button on my mobile angrily then grabbed the house phone, raising it to my ear and accepting the call.

"Pete?" I gasped anxiously.

"Mum?"

It was my daughter Izzy's voice.

"Izzy! Sorry I thought it was your Dad," I backtracked, trying not to sound disappointed.

"Is Dad okay? Isn't he home?"

"He's been called in to work," I told her.

It was only half a lie; there was no way I could explain to my daughter that I had cheated so often on her father that he had left me, if only for a couple of weeks.

"Then I've got you all to myself," Izzy said with a laugh in her voice.

For the next half hour I had to listen and try to sound enthusiastic as my twenty-year-old daughter recounted her week at University and the wonderful way in which her relationship with her new boyfriend was developing.

Izzy was totally smitten. There was, it seemed, no human being in existence who was better looking, more romantic, more caring, more intelligent and, by sideways implication, better in bed than Simon.

The ease with which Simon had seduced her when she was in a long term relationship with her previous boyfriend was testament to the first few assertions. To my shame, it bore more than a passing resemblance to the ease with which Tony had first found his way into my knickers. That had happened long before my Hotwife lifestyle had started when I was still supposed to be in a monogamous marriage.

Evidence to support the last assertion included my daughter's new nickname 'Izzy-Oh-God' which she had earned by screaming those two words loudly throughout the entire night she and Simon had spent in bed. This marathon fuck-fest had taken place very publically in one of her friends' flats - to the considerable amusement of the half dozen students in the other rooms who had heard every word.

Unfortunately for my daughter, the nickname appeared to have stuck.

Thanks to the underhand behaviour of a girl she had thought a good friend, Izzy's original boyfriend had learned of her infidelity while it was actually taking place. By the time my daughter had woken the next day in a strange flat, still naked and in bed with her seducer, the message from her boyfriend dumping her was already waiting on her phone and on Facebook.

She was not unsurprisingly feeling insecure and, as her mother, needed me to provide a constant stream of reassurance. In my current unstable condition this was not easy but that night I really welcomed the distraction of her light-hearted if self-centred conversation.

It was only when we had said our goodbyes and I was locking up the house that the coldness reappeared. I changed into my most comfortable pyjamas and made my way up to bed, wondering what my first week as a single girl would bring.

From Tony's odd attitude on the phone, it didn't look as if the wild, abandoned sex my husband had told me to have was going to start very soon.

***

My head ached from lack of sleep as I sat at my desk the following morning. It was supposed to be my first day of freedom; a day in which I could do whatever I wanted, see whoever I wanted; even fuck whoever I wanted free of obligation to my husband - ex-husband, I reminded myself as I looked at the pale band of skin on my third finger where my engagement and wedding rings used to lie.

My night had been badly broken by disturbing dreams but as the morning came, instead of bringing relief, the nightmare simply grew worse as the dull weather outside mirrored the dullness of my spirits.

It wasn't just a dream; my husband had actually left me! The fact that it might only be for two weeks was unimportant, the truth was that, whatever I had wanted, Pete had gone and there was no guaranteeing he would come back.

I shuddered as I thought of all that had happened the previous evening; if I had been in the arms of the man I loved - the man for whom I was seriously contemplating my husband, things would certainly have been different.

As it was, I had fallen asleep surprisingly quickly, exhausted by emotional strain. But the dreams had moved in on me as soon as my eyes were closed, vivid and dark. I had woken half a dozen times to find the house cold and strange around me. For what seemed like hours I had lain awake in bed, my mind full of memories of all the happy times in our past and dark images of what life might look like in the future.

In the end I suppose I must have fallen asleep because the alarm had woken me with a jolt early that Monday. It didn't feel like Monday; it hardly felt like home. Unlike almost every Monday for twenty years, there was no warm, familiar male shape in the bed alongside me, no morning cup of tea brought to my bedside, no handsome, whiskery smile to greet me.

There was just me.

I checked my phone, hoping for a message from Pete. There was none. I checked my secret phone; there was nothing from Tony either but I consoled myself with the thought that we were meeting up after work that afternoon.

Okay it was only the coffee bar and we couldn't even kiss properly but Tony had said we might get a chance to be together later, hadn't he? I got up, had a long bath rather than my usual shower and dressed for work. In the bath I shaved my arms, legs and vulva again - my Little Pink Pussy as Tony called it - just in case we got lucky and managed to find a way to make love somehow, somewhere.

Even a rough and tumble in the back of my SUV would have given me some of the emotional reassurance I needed. When our affair had first started we had fucked each other secretly in my car several times; surely we could manage that again.

A warm shiver ran through me as I remembered those early days of our relationship. My body tingled in anticipation of what we might do later that day.

There was no time for breakfast so I went without, packed a few other necessities into my over-large handbag and left the empty house, locking the door behind me and heading for my car. From the moment the front door closed I could tell something had changed. It took a few minutes to realise then it became clear; without the security of my wedding ring, my left hand felt very strange.

I told myself that it was merely a psychological trick but the bareness of my ring finger and the whiteness of the band where it used to lie made me so self-conscious I might as well have been stark naked. As I travelled the familiar route to work it felt as if everyone I drove or walked past was staring at my naked finger and seeing the fallen, unfaithful woman I had become.

It was nonsense brought on by guilt but I couldn't shake the idea off, desperately trying to think of plausible reasons why I might have abandoned my ring in case anyone asked. I could find nothing remotely convincing. Fortunately no-one in the office appeared to notice at all but the fear haunted me throughout the day.

When I reached the office it was empty and would be for at least another twenty minutes. I sat at my desk feeling vulnerable and exposed, looked at the pile of papers in front of me then at the clock on the wall.

Perhaps I could escape from reality for a few moments before the busy day began in earnest.

I flicked on my tablet pc, touched the right buttons and turned to my secret 'Author's' email account, the name under which I was now writing most of my erotic stories. There were three more messages; I clicked on each in turn, fearful of yet another troll attack but to my relief they were all positive. Indeed, one was from someone who sounded like a genuine real-life cuckold; the others were simply enjoying the developing plot of my longer publication.

I'm embarrassed to confess how much I enjoy receiving praise for my writing. Since my affair had started, my creative output had slowed considerably but my readership and number of followers were steadily increasing. I promised myself to resume writing as soon as the issue with Pete had been resolved.

If it could be resolved.

I switched off my tablet as the office began to fill and began my day. Fortunately it proved to be extraordinarily busy; I hardly had time to think let alone wallow in self-pity about Pete or to feel too much lust for Tony, thank God.

Lunch just didn't happen so by mid-afternoon when I finally grabbed a mug of tea I was very hungry. At least I would be able to get something to eat before I met Tony in the coffee bar at five-thirty. I frowned; we could probably have gone for dinner together even with Hannah at home. Why hadn't he suggested that?

Tony was my first and only extra-marital lover. Having professed his love for me many times and put pressure on me to leave my husband, live with him and even marry him; his attitude the previous night had been disturbingly cool.

Although the situation had been forced upon us by Pete's departure, surely Tony should have sounded more pleased to be able to have what he had said so often he wanted; me living with him as his wife, even if it was only for a couple of weeks.

I told myself that it must have been the shock of my unexpected news; that and having his daughter close by. After all, Tony had told me he loved me too many times to doubt it. We would be together soon.

Despite my fears about my marriage, I was so far gone that I couldn't prevent vivid memories of my times in bed with Tony from flooding back. I sat back in my seat, closed my eyes and pictured his strong hands stripping the clothes from my body, giving him free, unimpeded access to my vulva. I imagined how it would feel to have his hands on me again, his lips on mine; his active tongue in my mouth. I remembered the expertise with which he fingered me before thrusting his thick, swollen cock hard and repeatedly into my weeping pussy producing the frenzied orgasms that had overwhelmed me so often.

I hung onto the belief that, if our mere dates had been as exciting as that, it would be even better now I no longer had to leave straight afterwards; now we could spend whole nights together, free from the need to rush home for fear of discovery?

I could feel myself lubricating at the mere thought as the magic hour approached.

As soon as the office had emptied, I went to the Ladies' Room to repair my make-up, brush my teeth and look my best for the man I loved and who loved me. In a cubicle I slipped off my skirt and rather damp knickers, refreshed my most intimate areas with a moist feminine towel then changed into a fresh pair of very skimpy satin panties, swapped my old tights for new hold-up stockings and pulled on a much shorter, tighter skirt than I would ever have worn to work.

Then I slipped quietly down the fire escape, around the corner and into the coffee shop where I bought myself the largest Americano they had, took a place at a table in the best concealed corner of the room and waited excitedly for my lover to find me.

Five-thirty arrived but Tony did not. I wasn't worried; the traffic was always terrible after work.

Five forty-five arrived but there was still no sign of him. I bought another coffee and returned to my seat, taking a newspaper from the rack to conceal any anxiety on my face. I put my secret phone on the table in front of me to make sure I didn't miss any messages from him.