Red Orchids Ch. 01

"With all my heart."

"And he loves you? For sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, who can argue with that?" Ellen said, "I'm thirty-one, and I haven't got it figured out yet."

Ellen wondered what it was like to be that happy with someone you loved. She and Mark hadn't been on the same wavelength since they got married. Her heart sank as she recognized that look in Sheila's eyes as one she used to have over Mark. Ellen felt her happiness dwindling away as she thought of the argument this morning, and the harsh words that had passed between them.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the waitress appeared at the edge of the table, her young face alive with what seemed to genuine enthusiasm for taking their order. She had to be no more twenty years old, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that bounced behind her when she moved. She opened her note pad and said, "What can I get you ladies?"

"Nothing for me sweetie," Sheila smiled, and then, "Actually, a tall glass of orange juice would be great."

The waitress nodded and scribbled it down, "And you miss?"

Ellen looked up and was about to say she only wanted a cup of coffee when she saw the startled look on the girl's face. "Is there anything wrong?" Ellen asked.

The waitress, whose nametag read ALICIA, stood there for a moment, speechless. Ellen wondered if she had a booger ready to pop out of her nose or if she had somehow sprouted a toe out of her forehead. The girl looked like she was ready to fall over, and then finally shook her head a little and smiled.

"I'm sorry," she blushed nervously and stuttered, "You just look so familiar."

Ellen shrugged, "Do I know you?"

'Oh God I know your husband,' Alicia thought dismally as she forced her smile to remain fixed on her face. She replied, "No I don't think so... Actually, I thought you looked like Rebecca De Mornay for a minute there."

Sheila looked at Ellen, her eyes wide with impish amusement.

"A little star struck," Alicia laughed nervously, "I'm sorry."

"Oh it's okay," Ellen reassured her, still not sure about what had just happened. Rebecca DeMornay? She almost said it happened all the time to her, but the fact was it didn't.

"Don't worry sweetie," Sheila waved her hand, "The more compliments you give, the bigger your tip. Tell me I look like Heidi Klum and I'll tip ya twenty."

Alicia laughed again, the momentary shock of seeing the wife of the man she had been in bed with not more than two hours ago now slowly fading away. Alicia felt a pang of guilt in her stomach as she looked at Ellen up close. She had seen her a few times before, and since she had started fucking Mark she always made it a point to look Ellen over.

Now that she was up close, she honestly couldn't see what Mark was so bent out of shape over. She was beautiful in a very classic sense of the word, and she did in fact exude a lot of the sophistication and sexuality that Rebecca De Mornay seemed to flaunt so effortlessly. She might be a total bitch, but if she was Alicia couldn't tell. She wondered about Mark and his standards, trying to figure out just how she had been able to catch his attention when he had a woman like Ellen at home.

"Miss?"

Alicia stumbled out of her thoughts, embarrassed, "This is a red letter morning for me. I'm so sorry again. And you wanted?"

"Coffee, please," Ellen said, "Regular."

"No sweat," Alicia smiled and then hurried away.

"No there's an ego booster," Sheila remarked, and then added glumly, "Poor kid just missed out on twenty dollar tip..."

"I guess so," Ellen nodded, "You think she was just being funny?"

"Remember 'Risky Business', Ellen?" Sheila poked at her, "I'd say it's a compliment."

Ellen smiled and blushed, "She did give me a funny look the other day."

Sheila took another drink of water, "Of course she did. She thought she might get an autograph from you."

Ellen laughed.

"Or maybe she's flirting with you..."

"Stop it please," Ellen rolled her eyes.

"Lez-Be-Friends?"

"Whatever," she took a long drink of water.

"You do look like her, though."

"Thanks," Ellen looked down at her hands, the laugh suddenly draining out of her face..

"So what is going on?" Sheila asked, "And no more stalling."

Ellen took a deep breath, "I think my marriage is going to end."

Sheila frowned, "Why? What happened?"

"Mark just doesn't seem interested in me anymore," she said, feeling a familiar lump in the back of her throat threatening to force tears out her eyes, "He... doesn't really see me anymore. Only his work."

"Well, the man is a college professor, Ellen. And it is the week before break," Sheila offered, "He might be stressed out."

"He's been stressed out for almost ten years now," Ellen said, "Even when Maddie was born, he didn't really respond. It's like we were a burden or something..."

"Where is the munchkin, anyway?"

"With my dad for the afternoon," Ellen said, "I couldn't handle her today..."

Sheila thought for a moment, twirling her ice water with one finger, "What's Mark been doing to make you feel this way?"

"He's just really short with me. Always on the defensive and always too busy for sex," Ellen shoved her menu aside.

"Too busy for sex?" Sheila laughed, "Are you sure we're talking Mark here?"

"I'm sure," she said and couldn't help but think of the length and thickness of her husband's penis. He was ten inches long and wide enough to stretch her out every time... even just thinking about his cock made her horny. She adjusted her position slightly as her cunt slowly juiced itself into a slick reminder of the sex she had been denied for so long.

"Working a lot of late hours now?" Sheila asked.

"Yeah."

"Always has a busy schedule out of the house?"

"Yeah."

"Seems like he's having a mini case of menopause every day?"

"Yeah," Ellen nodded.

Sheila sighed and looked away as though she were debating whether to say another word or not.

"What is it?" Ellen prompted her, "You can be honest."

There was a long moment of silence.

"I'm not accusing anyone of anything, understand," Sheila warned, her dark eyes unflinching and deadly serious, "But I know when Tom was stepping out on me, he had the same M.O. Always too busy for me, always too much work at the office and always never enough sleep at night."

Ellen was silent.

"I'm not saying he's cheating," Sheila put her hands up, "All I'm saying is people don't get defensive unless they got something to be defensive about."

She had never really thought Mark capable of such an act. Oh, she knew he had been a player back in the bachelor days before they first met, but he'd left that behind to be with her. Ellen felt sick at the thought, and tried not to let her breakfast repeat on her as she shook her head.

"No," she smiled half-heartedly, "No, he wouldn't."

"No," Sheila agreed hesitantly, "I'm sure he wouldn't. So you gotta ask yourself, what else is going on then?"

Ellen tried to think of something, anything that could explain the change in her husband. But the more she tried to fit the pieces together elsewhere, the more she couldn't ignore the fact that his behavior followed the textbook signs of infidelity almost to the letter. It seemed to explain a lot.

"I don't know," Ellen admitted, "Maybe."

"You finding any unusual perfumes or lipstick on him or his clothes?"

"No," Ellen said and began biting her thumbnail, "Never."

But then she'd never really paid attention either... she never had a reason to.

"Okay, calm down now," Sheila pulled her hand down, "Don't bite your nails."

There was another long pause. Ellen looked out the window.

"You know," Sheila laughed, "I have no room to accuse anyone of anything. As much as Tom cheated on me, I did cheat on him with Doug. The marriage was dead, but we were still legally together."

"Yeah, but Tom deserved it."

"Maybe he did," Sheila agreed, "Maybe he did. Either way, people are only human. Some of us are better than others, sure, but not many. I know Doug is better than most because I watched him get hit on by my daughter one night and he said no."

"No kidding?"

"Elle took her shirt and bra off on the back porch and made a pass at him that even made me horny," Sheila said confidentially, "You know how big her tits are. They're like mine, magnets for men. And for a moment, I thought he might actually go for it. But he didn't. He was with me, and he proved himself. I wish I could say that I was that unbreakable when it came to Tom, but I wasn't."

"Maybe," Ellen said, "But what have I done to drive to Mark away like this? I quit my job at the firm to be at home with Maddie, I cook, I clean, I sew and I do everything for him."

"Who knows?" Sheila shrugged, "Could be anything. But we both know that Mark has an insatiable sexual appetite, and he doesn't just go without. He's like Tom... he's a thrill seeker."

"If he's not getting it from me," Ellen said dismally and felt the reality hardening in her mind despite her best efforts at denial, "He's got to be getting it from somewhere else. When things were good, we had sex at least five times a week."

"And now?"

"Before Maddie was born? Maybe once, twice a week. Now? Never."

"Twice in a week is what a lot of married couples end up with," Sheila comforted her, "And that's okay. But not at all? That's a bad sign."

Ellen shook her head, not wanting to believe what she already knew to be true in her heart. She felt so unattractive, so unwanted as she sat there in the middle of the restaurant with Sheila. Rebecca De Mornay? Please. She felt alone and wanted nothing more than to just crawl under the carpet and hide until this whole thing blew over. Then she could crawl out and have her husband again, have a life worth living for.

"Am I ugly, Sheila?" Ellen blurted out, catching her friend off guard.

Sheila almost choked on her water. "What? No, you're not. What kind of talk is that?"

"I'm not twenty-one anymore," Ellen looked at the small belly protruding out under her breasts. Right now, it seemed like a disgusting rolling paunch of white flesh stretching her shirt out.

"Neither am I," Sheila said, "So you've had a baby, big deal. Very few women bounce back from babies and have washboard stomachs. I didn't. You're beautiful, Ellen. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"What can I do?" Ellen sighed, "Mark spends so much time on his body that I think he wants me to be that way too, and I can't."

"You what you need?" Sheila asked.

"A new ass and some liposuction?"

"No," Sheila rolled her eyes, "You need your career back."

"I can't. I have Maddie at home..."

"Day care, bitch," Sheila smiled, "Get yourself some daycare."

Ellen thought about that for a moment.

"I know that Carl would hire you back in a minute," Sheila encouraged her, "You're the best accountant he ever had, well, after me anyway."

"You think he would?"

"I know he would. And, once you start working again, you might get your self-esteem back, kid. You need it."

"How did you get yours back from Tom?"

Sheila paused and looked away. She quietly said, "I fucked my daughter's best friend on my kitchen table and divorced that piss-poor excuse for a husband."

"I don't know if that'll work for me," Ellen said.

"Regardless," Sheila said, "Come back to work."

Ellen knew that Mark would not be happy with her if she decided to go back out into the workforce. He would be even less happy about shelling out money for a daycare, but Ellen had finally come to a point where she didn't care. She would pay for the babysitter herself if the need be, and he wouldn't have anything to say about it. If Mark wanted to dedicate his life to something other than her then that was fine. Ellen wasn't about to waste time pining for a man who wasn't going to be there, doting on him hand and foot just to get the sharp end of his temper.

"Maybe it'll help him get a little perspective?" Ellen suggested.

"That too," Sheila nodded.

"Okay," Ellen said, starting to feel a little better, "I'll do it."

***

On his lunch break, Mark skipped eating in his office and instead got into his SUV. He turned the key and after a moment's deliberation drove off campus heading south. He had a good two hours before his next class was due to begin, and although he had packed a lunch with salami sandwiches and a delicious salad, he knew he was hungry for something else. The sky began to cloud over with thick rolling thunderheads as he drove out of the city and into the outlying suburbs. A lot of kids who made up the student body lived out here and Mark wondered how many were home and how many were actually at class right now.

He pulled into the driveway of a modified Cape Cod house at the end of a cul-de-sac on Witcham Street. He set the parking brake and stepped out into the humid air. With one touch on the remote, the doors clicked shut and sounded a reassuring double stunted siren to confirm. He straightened out his suit, making sure his tie was straight as he walked across the closely trimmed lawn to the front door. The air was filled with the husky aromas of fresh cut grass and flowers. Mark smiled, slipped off his wedding band and let it fall into his pocket as he knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came a muted voice from behind the door.

"Mark Gordian," he replied, "Remember?"

Emma Sirtis answered the door, opening it up only a sliver as she confirmed the identity of her caller. He could see she was wearing her purple bathrobe and nothing else, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders in thick black curls. She smelled of lavender, and he knew she had just finished showering. Her distinctly Greek features were warm and familiar, the kind of face sculptors loved to chisel into marble and the kind of body only statues could ever really have. Her dark eyes looked him over quickly, appraising him as he had just done her.

"Mark?" she smiled and threw the door open, her accent still just barely audible despite her best efforts to loose it, "You came?"

"You bet," Mark grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a kiss. Her tongue feverishly explored his mouth as he slid his hands down to her ass and squeezed. 'You bet I came,' he smiled inwardly and thought of Alicia, 'Came only a few hours ago...'

"I thought you were busy all this week," Emma slapped his shoulder playfully as she ushered him and closed the door, "Isn't it finals week at the college?"

"Yeah, but I had a little time to spare," he said casually and looked around the living room, "Why aren't you at work?"

"I'm the night chef, remember?" she smiled and walked to the television. He watched her ass every step of the way as she went, the terry cloth rising up just enough to give him a tantalizing view of the lower crescents of her ass cheeks. She flipped the set off and closed the large oak entertainment center.

"That's right," Mark snapped his fingers as he took his jacket off, "You work at the Olive Garden."

"Nice of you to remember," she frowned, putting her bottom lip out, "Nice of you to call too."

Mark slid his hands around her waist, "I can't help it baby. I really wanted to but it's just been so fucking busy."

Emma looked away, trying to keep up her act of being upset but failing miserably. A small smile had cracked on her full lips and a blush was blooming on her cheeks, warming up her olive colored complexion even more. She put her face against his chest and inhaled his cologne, relishing the feeling of his powerful muscles around her. They had only been on one date together, but what a date it had been. Emma never slept with men on first dates, but Mark had been the exception. He was so well built and completely charming that she still could not remember where she had lost resolve.

"Would you like some watermelon?" she asked, tracing small circles with her fingernails across his broad backside.

"Would love some," Mark said and made every effort to let his erection rub against her. She obviously felt it growing because as she broke their embrace she looked down and cocked an eyebrow, "Still bulging I see?"

"Only around you."

"Uh huh," she smiled and walked into the kitchen. Mark looked at the clock on the wall, and saw he had plenty of time to linger with Emma. He wondered what Ellen was up to briefly as he followed her. He imagined her at home still, either trying to contain Maddie or thinking of someway to make his life even more miserable when he walked in the door tonight. He shoved her out of his mind and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. The pleasant scent of cinnamon caressed his nose as he looked inside and marveled at all the cookware Emma had accrued.

"You actually use all those?" he motioned to the huge frying pans and woks hanging over her large stove, "Or are they just for show?"

"Both," she shrugged and looked at the bulge in his crotch. She motioned to it with her head as she cut open the large watermelon, "You actually use that, or is it just for show?"

Mark smiled broadly, "Both."

"I see," Emma smiled and sliced the melon up into long, thin sections. Her robe had opened enough to let him see the slopes of her breasts. They jiggled and moved with her slicing motions, enticing him and making him feel lightheaded. Alicia had a great rack, but Emma had a pair of tits that just wouldn't quit. And whereas Alicia had breasts that suffered from a slight tan line in the shape of a bikini top, Emma's were completely and deliciously tanned. She looked up and saw him gawking. Emma smiled, making no effort to hide the increasingly revealing view of her breasts as she opened the refrigerator door and looked inside.

Emma bent over, her tight ass stuck out in the air. Mark felt himself growing more and more aroused as she dug through the large bottom drawer. Her robe had slid its way up the curve of her ass and revealed her equally tanned buttocks as well as her intentions. Mark felt his cock twitch as he leaned over a little and took in the view of her lips. The moist folds of her sex seemed to call out to him, begging for the touch of his lips and fingers.

He slipped off his shoes and quietly walked across the kitchen to her. He placed his hands on her hips and slid his hands slowly across her cheeks, like a man might stroke the perfect hood of a fine automobile. That's what Emma was, a fine and very fast car that dared him to take her out for a spin, if he was bold enough. Emma jumped at the sensation of his rough hands on her skin but did not move away. Mark pulled her back to him, making sure his throbbing erection was right between her ass cheeks and pushed the door shut.

"Do you want the melon or did you just want to fuck?" Emma closed her eyes as he pressed her up against the cold door. Her nipples went hard as shivers ran down her body from the cool plastic covering of the fridge door.

"We can do both," Mark whispered in her ear and licked her smooth lobe. She sighed lustily as he pulled her robe open and off her shoulders. Emma could hardly think as her pussy become suddenly wet and delightfully slick. She gripped the edges of the fridge and grinded her ass against his hard member.

"What'd you have in mind?" she asked, loving the sensations coming from her breasts as they pressed against the icy door. Mark parted her legs and knelt down behind her, moving with an eerie yet tantalizing silence. She stood there, legs wide as though she were about to be searched and waited for a few moments, anticipation coursing through her veins. Mark took off his jacket and positioned himself on his knees so that he could slip his tongue into her wet folds. She gasped out loud as he applied a slow, long lick down the length of her slit, keeping his tongue firmly pressed against her.

'Fuck it,' he smiled, 'Break the lock..."

He reached up to the counter and grabbed one of the melon slices she had carved out. He parted her lips with two fingers, opening her pussy up just enough to let him see the hot pink inner folds. Emma laughed a little as he slid the slice against her tight pussy. She quivered at the touch of the cool fruit and thought about how she had never considered using watermelon before as a sex toy. She had heard of people using bananas sure, but never a slice of watermelon.