Sprung Ch. 09

This is alternative ending 9 of 'Sprung'. It has the same beginning as 'Sprung 1 - 4, all the way down to 'Alternate Ending Number 9'. It stands alone. There's no sex and it's a complete ending. I think it includes concepts I haven't seen here before.

As usual, I had lots of fun writing this and want to thank CTC for sharing the journey with me. The last year and a half with you in my life has been the happiest time of my existence.

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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 up 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 #9: BTB Rating 4

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 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 and experimental than him. 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 vital 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. 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. But it was only just dark.

I drove around for another half an hour until it was fully dark, then decided to park just up the road from my house. I turned my phone off, so I wouldn't have to tell another lie about where I was if Dave rang to see when I'd be there. I could always say my battery went flat. The plan was to wait for a little while after the master bedroom light shut off then sneak into bed after Dave was hopefully asleep.

What is that well known saying about the best laid plans of mice and men?

The street outside my house was packed with cars; as was the driveway. I recognised some of the cars; friends of mine, Dave's, and ours. Two friends of Dave's came out of the front door, holding beers and lit up cigarettes in the glow of the porch floodlight. They were laughing. What the hell? Dave shouldn't have been home long. Why the party?

I was concentrating on them, when a guy on his own, came out of the door and walked around them. He looked their way and shook his head disgustedly. It wasn't until he jumped into a familiar car and took off that I recognised it as my sister's husband, Paul.

The parking space was only vacant for seconds before another car pulled in. A middle-aged woman got out and, after checking the number on the letterbox, walked up to the guys on the porch. Words were exchanged, one of the guys pointed to the front door and she disappeared through it. I sat there trying to make sense of it all.

Five minutes later, I suppose, I got out and headed over. The porch was clear again. As soon as I opened the door, there were the sounds of a party going on. A burst of raucous laughter erupted. I could see the middle-aged woman in the kitchen but couldn't see who she was talking to.

All eyes were focused on the TV, which is on the same wall as the door, so I couldn't see it. In the quiet after the laughter I could hear moans and groans from the speakers. What the fuck? Dave was hosting a mixed party and airing a porno movie? That was so unlike Dave as to not register as true.

All eyes swivelled to me and one of our neighbours looked towards the kitchen and yelled, "Dave, get out here, the missus is home."

I turned towards the kitchen, ready to blast my husband. What was he doing? He knew I was due back. Just as he appeared, the soundtrack changed.

"Yeah, Michael, stuff that monster in my tight cunt."

It was my voice. In Dolby stereo.

I froze. Shock raced with embarrassment, confusion, and shame. Each trying to be the first one to make my head explode.

Automatically, I half-turned towards the TV. This couldn't be happening! My peripheral vision picked up something coming from the kitchen. My turn was checked mid-motion, which only made the slap aimed at the side of my face hit my nose. I went over on my back. The strange woman was leaning over me screaming.

"Bitch! Slut! Homewrecker!"

Tears burst from her eyes before she headed back out the front door. I think I just met Michael's wife and, in hindsight, had got off very lucky. I staggered to my feet and leaned against the wall, prior to heading to the kitchen to get some tissues for my streaming nose. That seemed to trigger a mass exodus of most of the audience. Shouts of encouragement to David and contemptuous looks at me, especially from our shared friends.

On autopilot, I headed to the kitchen. And stopped in my tracks. Dave was standing there with Julie hugging him for all she was worth. When she heard me come in, she disengaged before stepping between us, facing me, in an obviously protective stance. Later, I would realise she wanted to protect him from more hurt. I'd already done enough.

We stood in this tableau, just staring at each other. His phone rang, and he answered it.

I was close to swooning from blood loss and emotional trauma. I just picked up the words, "Yes, come on over, she's here."

He flipped the phone closed but it rang again almost immediately. Again, I missed most of what he said. He held the phone to his ear, then he and Julie went around me to the door back into the lounge; Julie never failing to be between me and him. I weakly called after him, "Dave, we need to talk."

He ignored me but marched to his laptop, which I now saw was connected to the TV. He began punching keys. There were three of his friends still there. A blank screen appeared to replace the disgusting images on the TV. Dave sat on the sofa and Julie plonked herself down in the tiny gap between Dave and his friend Gary. Dave pressed a button on some sort of remote.

"This should be good."

The screen remained blank for another ten or so seconds. Long enough for me to cross to the couch, kneel in front of my husband and repeat, "Dave, we need to talk."

He just leaned to the side, so he could still see the screen. I heard a loud, "Here we go", from the screen and couldn't help looking.

The image on the screen was jumping around nauseatingly. It took me a little while to realise it was footage from one of those little cameras that attach to a hat or helmet. The image stabilised, and I was seeing a familiar looking cabin. A hand appeared, moving away from the camera and knocked on the door. The hand disappeared. Seconds later, the door swung away from the camera as it opened, and Michael was outlined against the light from inside. He did a double take, then started to say, "What the f...?"

From the lower part of the screen, a booted foot appeared, at speed. It came up between Michael's legs. The next seconds were busy, as Michael expelled a huge whoosh, started to bend forwards, before sinking to his knees, head almost on the ground. The hand appeared again and grabbed a handful of hair, before jerking Michael's face upwards. The flash of the fist was quicker this time and accompanied by a meaty thud. I shut my eyes and turned away. That didn't stop the sounds, though. I don't know which was the more disturbing, the grunts of effort and the sound of fists, knees, and boots connecting, Michael's gasps and screams or the sound of the audience cheering the unknown assailant on. I risked a peek as everything went quiet after I heard a door slam. The guy on the TV took off his hat and pointed it at his face, grotesque in a clown mask, then bowed to the camera.

I knelt there while the others in the lounge talked about their favourite parts of the movie, excitedly. Dave wasn't saying anything, just looked at his phone. Snapping it shut, he rose from the couch. I thought he was finally going to acknowledge my presence until he passed me and made for the front door. I trailed after him.