Sprung Ch. 08

This is alternative ending 8 of 'Sprung'. It has the same beginning as 'Sprung 1 - 4, all the way down to 'Alternate Ending Number 8'. It stands alone. There's some sex and it's a complete ending. I think it includes concepts I haven't seen here before.

Many thanks to CTC for the edit and ideas.

I would like to acknowledge cpete's, 'Anatomy of an Affair' for the inspiration for this one. I love the stark, gut-wrenching simplicity of it. Thanks mate.

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I looked for the last time at my reflection in the mirror. Could I do it? Could I really get away with this? Could the forty-year old, not beautiful but also not plain, housewife who has never done anything remotely like this, have one extramarital adventure with no repercussions at all?

I took in my reflection. The person looking back at me would have to walk the gauntlet past her totally clueless husband. Must appear exactly as described on the packet; a dutiful niece, going to look after her frail aunt for the weekend, so her other aunt could have a break. There could be no sign of the woman who was using the story as a cover to meet another man for two nights of who only knew what in his remote cottage in the mountains.

For the last time, I looked for any holes in my cover story. Auntie June was indeed sickly and was getting looked after by my Auntie Peg. Both were widowed, Peg's husband having died last year. Aunt June's husband, Nicolas, had been killed in Vietnam in the late sixties and she'd never really gotten over it. She'd chosen to have his body cremated, buried the ashes in the backyard, and built a little shrine. Every visitor to the house was expected to go out and give their regards to Uncle Nick. Auntie Peg was indeed having a break from care this weekend, but June was being taken to Peg's son's house while his mum had a respite.

So, discovery methods to scupper my plans?

My husband, Dave, wasn't on friendly terms with Aunt Peg, so wouldn't speak to her to confirm or deny my story. I doubt he even had a number for her son. Aunt June had no fixed-line phone, so Dave couldn't be suspicious when I didn't answer it. So long as I always answered my cell in the next two days, I was fine.

Could Dave drop in to June's house unannounced? Impossible. A couple of hours after I left, he was going to the airport and flying out for a weekend business trip. Our two children my sister had already picked up to look after until we both returned on Sunday. His trip was a last-minute thing. Soothing a client who thought there was a huge problem with their mansion design when it was already half built. That wasn't unknown and no amount of explaining it over the phone allayed their fears. Dave was using the opportunity to stay on site and design the gardens surrounding the house. It would save him a trip later. If I'd known about the trip earlier, I may not have bothered to make such elaborate plans of my own and invited Michael here. No. Too risky. So, with the double surety of my planning and Dave's trip, I could not envision any scenario where my not being where I was supposed to be, with who I was supposed to be with, was discovered.

The doorbell rang, and I went to the bedroom door until I was sure who it was. It was my husband's PA, Julie, obviously dropping off last minute stuff for Dave's trip. She'd been with Dave for two years now and I knew Dave was sponsoring her through architecture school. He often described her as his perfect counterpoint, seeing all the things he didn't. He even dedicated the award he won last year to her.

Any other wife might have been jealous of a younger, trimmer, better looking, bigger boobed woman that spent almost as much time with their husband as they did, but they didn't know my Dave. He would be more likely to put his cock in a lion's mouth and yell, "Dinner time, kitty", than betray my trust. I trusted him exactly the way he trusted me. A roaring noise in my head accompanied that thought. I was using that trust to abuse that trust and the sudden realisation of that almost made my conscience make me abandon my plans. Forcibly thinking of Michael, only the second guy I'd have had in my bed, taking me while I was still wearing my suspender belt and stockings, my black cocktail dress in a discarded heap on the bedroom floor, stiffened my resolve until the moment passed.

Could there have been anything in my suitcase to give me away? I'd left it open on the bed all morning specifically to show Dave there was nothing inappropriate in it. All the clothes were consistent with my cover story. Sure, there was another bag locked in the trunk of my car, with my cocktail dress and other clothes in it, but as I had the only two keys for my car, all was good. The silky negligee, fancy stockings, and push-up bra with matching panties and suspender belt, had been purchased on the other side of town, with cash. The packaging and receipts were disposed of before reaching my car, and the offending items put straight in the trunk. As soon as Michael saw me wearing them, there was no chance of him chickening out on me. Besides, they made me look sexy, and my confidence needed all the help it could get if I was going to go all the way with this.

That reminded me. Appearance. Was it consistent with a wife going to look after her aging aunt? Let's see, skirt down to my knees, showing off my calves, conservative blouse. Modest make-up that could be touched up in the car before I got to the cottage. I had considered stopping somewhere to change into something sexier before getting there, but decided it wasn't worth the risk. No, meet Michael at the cabin, an hour in the opposite direction to my aunt's house. Shower and change into sexier clothes, out to the quiet restaurant Mick had told me about, then back to the cottage for dessert. I'd packed a second dress for Saturday night, but doubted it would be necessary.

I'd once done an adult education course in cooking. The first day we'd learnt that the first bite was with the eye. I hadn't planned to wear any jewellery apart from my wedding rings, but looking at myself critically, I needed something else. Opening my jewellery box, I chose my current favourite necklace. Was it consistent with the trip? A little over the top maybe, but it helped my confidence so stayed in place. I undid the top two buttons on my blouse and leaned towards the mirror. The necklace complimented my cleavage, far and away my major asset, perfectly. Yes, it was worth the risk.

So, cover story good, nothing suspicious packed, nothing about my appearance to give me away. Was it worth reviewing the precautions Michael was taking with his wife. No. That was much simpler. He was going to their cabin as he did regularly to de-stress. His wife was flying out with their kids Saturday to visit her mum in the next state. All good.

Only one difficult thing remained to do. Getting past Dave to the front door. Somehow me and my conscience had to make the trip without giving anything away.

No, Dave was always going to be the problem. How would the woman in the mirror feel when he looked at her? When he told her he loved her? Maybe, when he again told her what a lovely person she was for doing what she was doing. Some of it I could cover by avoiding eye contact. I practiced once again in the mirror, arranging my features in a neutral expression. I'd already begun saying goodbye. A passing hug, kiss, and squeeze of Dave, and I was out of there and on the way to my once-in-a-lifetime adventure. A two-day sabbatical from being a good mother and wife. Did I need to run through my justifications to myself again? No. I'd done all that when the decision was made. I'd convinced myself of that absolutely. Otherwise, there was no chance of looking Dave in the eye in five minute's time.

For strength, I let my mind wander down memory lane a little. I was a standard stay-at-home mum until our youngest, Jenny, started full-time school. Then I started work for a temp agency and did secretarial work where needed. Sometimes, I insisted I could only work between nine and three, so I could drop the kids off and pick them up. Others, I worked later, and Dave altered his hours to leave earlier in the morning, so he could pick them up. After Jenny went off to high school at twelve, I went back to work full-time as we'd decided. I was an intelligent, twenty-first century woman that needed to keep her brain active. I'd picked up my previous career, as a legal secretary, in short order and started with one of the biggest firms in town. That was nine months ago. Dave was home not much later than the kids most days.

One of the senior corporate lawyers was Michael. There had been an instant connection between us. You know the thing, when you feel like you knew each other in a past life. In fact, I'd joked along those lines to him at our first meeting. He'd said that he had once believed in reincarnation, but that was in his last life. His humour was just one of the things that attracted me. He was big and handsome, slightly younger than I, intelligent and quick. I learned about him slowly at first, when we just happened to be in the lunch room together. That pace quickened a little after I regularly chose to eat when I saw him heading there. It got to the point where I felt a little thrill every time I saw him. That thrill had been missing from my interactions with Dave for some time.

I began to suspect that Michael felt the same way when I caught him checking I was at my desk before walking past me with his lunch. From then on, we shared lunch every day and I discovered that in many respects we were a perfect match. Apart from the fact that we were both happily married with young families, that is.

One day, we were alone in the break room when his hand accidentally brushed mine. It was electric. I knew it and he knew it. We put our heads together and made plans to slip out separately the next day for an extended lunch, way on the other side of town. Before we went, I ascertained where Dave was, and Mick did the same for his wife. We did that at least once a week from two months ago until now. Starting four weeks ago, we'd retired to his car, with its tinted windows and kissed. Starting two weeks ago, we'd planned to get away together this weekend. Now.

Don't get me wrong, we aren't in love or anything like that. You see, part of our discussions were how sexually inexperienced we were when we married and how, after many years of marriage, we were just a little bored. The sexual tension we felt whenever we were together just threw us both back to when we were young and free. Neither of us discussed what would happen after this weekend. I, for one, was intending for it to be a one-time thing, but was wise enough to know I had a problem on my hands if it turned out to be so fantastic I wanted a repeat.

Glancing at the clock, I saw it was time to go. Deep breath, Sarah. This is the hard part and should be over in minutes. Sure, you'll probably feel guilty when you see Dave on Sunday, but that's all right. By then you'll know it's all in the past and you will devote the rest of your life to making this fine man happy. Grabbing my small suitcase, I walked into the lounge. Dave was sitting on the couch, staring at a large framed photo that hung above the fireplace. Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

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ALTERNATE ENDING #8: BTB Rating 3.0 - 3.5

Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.

He was a little distracted, judging by the expression on his face. Probably thinking about a work problem. That helped. He rose as I walked towards him, that allowed me to make eye contact with him as little as possible. The rest was prevented by my hugging him. He returned my hug, then pushed me to arms-length and looked me square in the face, his expression still neutral.

Confident that my ruse was undiscovered, I pushed away, picked up my bag, shouted my goodbye, and left.

The weekend was everything I hoped it would be. The sex was new and exciting; thrilling, in fact. After dinner Friday night, we spent the whole weekend in bed, getting to know each other; our likes and dislikes. While his cock was about the same size as Dave's, Michael was obviously much more experienced than he'd led me to believe. He was also more experimental than Dave. By Sunday afternoon I was exhausted, stretched out, and with a grin on my face that just wouldn't go away. I felt young and invigorated again. Michael suggested we continue seeing each other. I didn't give him a straight answer as I wanted to see how crippling my guilt was when I went home. Yes, it had been fantastic, but I was yet to decide if that was worth it. If only I hadn't married so young and had done all this exciting stuff at twenty, rather than finding it at forty. If only sex with Dave wasn't so same-same. If only it didn't make me feel so young and so naughty. If only...

The guilt I felt for cheating, for becoming someone I'd always despised, became worse the closer I got to home. The knowledge that I'd disrespected my husband in the worse way a woman can and risked my children's happy family, became a weighty anchor to my soul. Two streets away a thought struck. The kids were at my sister's until tomorrow. Dave might want sex. I drove right past our street and pulled over. Dave had to be up early tomorrow, so if I waited for him to go to bed, I could sneak in and avoid that dilemma.

Not trusting my voice, I quickly texted Dave to say that Aunt Peg had been delayed and depending what time she relieved me, I would either be home very late tonight or the next day. I contemplated staying in a motel for the night but finally concluded that if I spent the night next to a sleeping Dave, I would be better mentally prepared when I finally spoke to him.

I drove around until dark and by ten I was parked just down the road from my house. I watched the light dim in our bedroom about a quarter of an hour later, then stayed for another twenty of so minutes before sneaking into my own house.

I disrobed out in the hall, after using the downstairs bathroom before I snuck into the room. Dave had left my bedside lamp on for me, angled away from the bed. Considerate as ever. He, himself, was lying there facing away from my side. Sleeping the sleep of the just. I cringed internally and knew I'd done the right thing by coming back now. The love I felt for this fine man surged through me, temporarily beating back my growing self-loathing.

I eventually slept the sleep of the damned. Dave, as usual, must have gotten up very carefully so as not to disturb me. It was a long day that Monday and I stayed a little longer to delay the time when I had to look my husband in the eye.

I eventually walked in the door to the smell of dinner cooking and the sight of Dave helping the kids with their homework. Fear made me head for the ensuite after the briefest of greetings and a quick peck of Dave's cheek. In the bathroom, I discreetly threw up. At dinner, Dave wanted to know about my trip and tell me about his. The kids wanted to tell me all their news. My heart just wasn't in it. I excused myself, saying I wasn't feeling well and hid in the bedroom. I feigned sleepiness when Dave came up to check on me. We talked briefly, me judging if he was acting any different to normal. No; he was as loving as ever. By the next night, I could almost act normally and realised I'd gotten away scot-free. By Thursday, I was sure and slightly exultant. When Dave made a move on me, I decided to go along with it. It was a disaster. After my fresh, new experiences, Dave's well-rehearsed routine just left me flat.

The next weekend, Dave was taking the kids to a theme park. I begged off. Such things just didn't excite me anymore. They went and had fun. The following week, Dave kept asking me what was wrong. I kept denying anything was, but he continued probing until I blew up at him. He sulked like a whipped dog for a few days after that. I actually found that a relief. Whenever he probed me, I had great deal of trouble making eye contact. With him sulking, I could avoid the effort. It became my standard response to many of his attempts at serious discussion.

The following week, Michael came into my office excitedly. He'd convinced those above him that he should solicit work from regional towns that weren't serviced by quality lawyers. It would mean travelling several days a month. He needed a secretary to go with him. He winked and suggested it would be perfect cover for a continued affair. I said I'd think about it. I know I was particularly withdrawn at home for the next few days, as I retreated within myself to think. Both Dave and the kids remarked on it. What finally made up my mind was when Dave pushed me for some loving again, pointing out it had been over a week. It was dull and unsatisfying again.

I broached the possibility of travelling to Dave. He wasn't thrilled and I'm sure was looking in my eyes for some clue to my motivation. To avoid eye contact, I blew up at him, telling him that after supporting his career for years, it was my turn. He finally said that if it made me feel better, he was all for it.

I said yes to Michael and the first trip was scheduled. Michael organised the business part of the trip. I planned the 'not getting caught' part. It went off like clockwork. Two nights away, separate rooms. Call to the house phone every night to ascertain Dave's whereabouts. An unexpected bonus was that for three whole days, I didn't have to avoid eye contact with my husband or children.

The sex was even better than the last time and convinced me I'd made the right choice.

Until it was time to go home again, when the realisation hit me. I'd just doubled the disrespect. Doubled the chances of mortally wounding my husband. Doubled the chances of destroying my family. When I got home it was increasingly hard to look anywhere but at the floor. Any opportunity to get away from the house offered relief. Dave took up the slack and increasingly became both mother and father to the kids. Several times, he tentatively risked my wrath by suggesting we were growing apart. I denied it and refused to participate in the discussion.

Being smart, I knew there were other ways of being caught than Dave spying on me personally. He could hire a PI. To combat that I kept a close eye on the accounts. I still had access to the books for his business, I'd kept them when I was a stay-at-home mum. There were no large, unexplained transactions or cash withdrawals. I was safe.

I got to really look forward to my trips away. Not so much for the sex, which was still good, but for the relief from accusatory looks and questions from husband and children. Would I come to soccer with them? Did I want to go out for dinner? I started turning Dave down for sex most of the time as well. The effort to feign enjoyment was just too much. Luckily, his requests got rarer and rarer.

Eight months in, there was not much change. Michael and I were still going away every three weeks or so. I still had trouble looking Dave or the children in the eye; even being with them was uncomfortable. Occasionally, I did miss making love to my husband, and I do mean love. At no time with Michael was it ever more than a mutual pleasuring exercise. Anyway, Michael was beginning to talk about getting away for a whole week. There was a conference at a beach resort and he'd convinced his superiors to send both of us to it as a reward for all the business our trips away had generated. By this time, I felt guilty just about the whole time I was home, so the idea of a whole week's break was very seductive. I agreed and immediately started hoarding cash to buy some new lingerie. With Michael's habit of tearing it off me, it didn't last long.