To Forsake All Others Ch. 01

It was the middle of the summer, and far too hot to be carrying heavy objects from the back of a truck to a small apartment three flights upstairs. That's what friends are for, though, and I considered myself to be a good friend. Phil was one of the first people I met when we first moved into our neighborhood, and we bonded almost immediately. We had a lot in common, including an appreciation for sports, beer, and arguing about politics – and not necessarily in that order.

We were the first to own our homes, as it was a newly-constructed neighborhood that was still in the process of being completed when we both moved in. It was a tight-knit group of neighbors at first, as we all had something in common: brand-new homes, complaints about the builders, comparisons between propane suppliers and garbage collectors, and so forth.

Phil and I helped to organize our first few neighborhood barbeques. We wheeled our grills to the common area and spent the entire day standing at our grills cooking burgers and dogs, and chugging way too much beer. By the end of the night, we quickly learned a lot about our new neighbors – often a little more than we ever cared to know.

As the years passed, smaller groups began forming, one of which included myself, Phil, and a couple other men who lived nearby. We would get together on Sundays to watch football, and would celebrate the three main holidays of the summer together: Memorial Day, Independence Day, and Labor Day. Over the years, I spent a good amount of time at Phil's house between the larger get-togethers or simply hanging out at my house or his.

As time passed, I couldn't help but notice a slowly-widening rift between Phil and his wife, Susan. It was barely perceptible at first: a snarky comment here, a snide retort there. Soon, it became uncomfortable to be in the same room with the two of them, and my visits became less and less frequent. When he told me he had filed for divorce, it was hardly surprising. It was depressing, to say the least, to help him move his belongings out of the house that I had considered to be my second home for so long.

"That's the last of it," I said, dropping the heavy cardboard box to the hardwood floor with a thud. Sweat dripped into my eyes, forcing me to wipe it away with the driest patch of my tee shirt that I could find.

"Thanks," Phil said, handing me a cold beer. I drained it so quickly, I felt woozy. "I can't thank you enough for this."

"Ugh! Look at you two gross, sweaty old men," Jessica said, shaking her head at the doorway. Phil's twenty-one year old niece always wore the skimpiest clothing imaginable, and this occasion was no different. Her tiny tee shirt stretched to its limits over her ample breasts and revealed her bare midriff. Her shorts – if you could call them that – were cut so high they barely covered her firm little ass and exposed her long, thin legs practically from her hips to her toes.

"Look who's talking, you sweaty skank," I quipped. Since Jessica had moved into her uncle's house a few years before, the two of us had adopted a strange sort of banter that was comprised mostly of teasing and insulting one another.

"Sweaty" wasn't an entirely accurate description of Jessica's appearance. While I dripped with sweat, Jessica merely glistened. Tiny little beads dotted her exposed skin, and her dark, amber-colored hair formed perfectly curled ringlets that framed her adorable young face. I had known her since she was a teenager, and she had transformed into a sexy siren right before my eyes. She lifted her shirt to pat her face and revealed even more of her flesh along with a hint of her bra. I averted my eyes quickly, but I knew she saw me looking at her. It wasn't the first time she had ever caught me in the act, and I suspected she enjoyed teasing me.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, striking a pose by placing her hands on her hips and swaying to the side. She smiled and bit her bottom lip. Her dark eyes danced as she tried to think of a good comeback.

"Got nothing, huh?" I teased. "Here, have a beer before you hurt yourself." I tossed her a beer, and she impressively snatched it with one hand.

"Hey, what are you doing later tonight?" Phil asked me.

"After this? Probably passing out on the couch," I said. "Why?"

"I was thinking we'd go out to the bar," he said. "We need to celebrate. And since you were nice enough to lend me a hand, the least I can do is buy you a drink or two. As long as you drive."

"How could I resist such a generous offer?" I said, rolling my eyes. "I'll check with Rachel and get back to you."

Rachel and I had known each other for twenty years, and had been married nearly as long. We had achieved most of our goals in life to that point, and shared a strong and loving bond. Since moving into our new home, she had encouraged me to socialize with the neighbors as often as possible. Unlike me, she wasn't a particularly outgoing person, and preferred a relaxing night at home to the bar scene. Socializing with the neighbors gave me the opportunity to do what I liked to do, while allowing her to do what she preferred. It was a win-win arrangement for both of us.

When I returned home and mentioned that Phil wanted to head out to the bar for some celebratory drinks, I wasn't surprised when she gave me her blessing. Now that he was no longer living within walking distance, I knew our get-togethers would be fewer and further between.

When I pulled up in front of Phil's apartment building that evening, I was surprised to see Jessica was still with him. I assumed that she would head back to her place, opting not to spend the evening with a couple of old men at a bar. As soon as she slid into the back seat of my car, the scent of her freshly-cleaned hair and body stirred something inside me that I found intoxicating.

"You clean up nice," I remarked, glancing into the back seat. Boy, did she ever. Compared to the hot mess that I last saw chugging a beer in Phil's apartment, the young woman seated in the back of my car was an absolute goddess. Her hair was perfectly groomed, and fell to her shoulders in gentle ringlets. She wore very light makeup – if any – and she was dressed provocatively in a mid-thigh-length skirt and a sheer top held in place by thin straps across her delicate shoulders.

She looked at me strangely, as if she were waiting for the punchline. I didn't issue compliments to her all that often, as I felt like a dirty old man by doing so. "Thanks," she said at last, smiling broadly. I couldn't help but speculate how many young hearts had been melted with that smile.

We arrived at the bar and ordered our drinks along with some appetizers. Having just moved out of his home, Phil was in a mood to reminisce that night. We replayed many of the best times we shared together with his now former neighbors, from cook-outs to movie marathons at his place to great moments in sports history that we witnessed together. At times, we laughed so hard we nearly pissed ourselves. As the night wore on and the beer continued to flow, Phil's mood became a little more sentimental, and I noticed his eyes began to glisten.

I needed to break the dreary somberness quickly or the poor guy would have dissolved into a pool of tears right there at the bar. "Hey, remember that time at the barbecue when Sully chased Jimmy around the bonfire and tripped over the cooler?"

Phil nearly spit his beer across the table as he burst into laughter. "He...he did a face-plow right there in front of us, and came up spitting grass!"

"And his shorts fell down!" Jessica added, causing us all to double over in red-faced laughter, gasping for air while the other patrons at the bar looked on in amusement.

Phil brought his hands to his face in an attempt to calm himself, and that's when I felt it. A warm, soft hand was placed on my right knee.

I gave no indication to anyone, and pretended as though I couldn't feel the hand that was now slowly stroking my knee. It happened for only a moment before it was removed. I glanced to my right, and Jessica was still laughing as if she hadn't done what we both knew she had done. While I had spent the night sipping my beer in an effort to be a responsible driver, she had been keeping pace with Phil. I suspected they both must have been feeling no pain at that point. Perhaps she didn't even realize that she did it.

"I gotta piss," Phil announced. He rose from the table and had to hold onto his chair to steady himself before he strode to the restroom in a not-so-straight line.

I turned toward Jessica and she smiled. Her dark eyes danced with mischief, and I felt her hand once again rest on my knee. I quickly glanced around to ensure that no one was looking, and then turned to her. She bit her bottom lip and giggled. She began to stroke my knee, and I placed my hand on top of hers.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

She giggled. "I gotta pee, too." She gently patted my shoulder and rose from the table, leaving me sitting alone, confused, and strangely excited.

I had never come close to being unfaithful to my wife, and had never even considered such a thing before. We trusted each other completely, and I would never do anything to breach that trust. Yet, the feel of that strange hand on my knee, and the playful look in that beautiful siren's eyes reawakened feelings that I had completely forgotten and assumed were buried forever.

In the year prior to that night, I had finally decided it was time to get into better shape. I lost a lot of weight, and was feeling good about my appearance for the first time in years. At age thirty-nine I felt that I was in better physical shape than I had been since I was in my twenties. Having this gorgeous girl express some interest in me – even though it was more than likely alcohol-induced – provided an enormous boost to my ego. I felt young and desirable again.

Phil and Jessica returned to the table, and we proceeded to carry on as if nothing had happened. I felt no more hands on my knee, and managed to fight the urge to reciprocate by stroking my hand all along the silky-smooth thighs of the seductress to my right. Every chance I had, I would glance down for a moment to admire her bare thigh, mere inches away, and imagine what it would feel like.

"I think I'm full," Phil said at one point. His eyes were swimming in his head.

"Awwww!" Jessica protested, making an exaggerated pouty face. "But it's only eleven! I'm ready to do some dancing!"

"I said I'm full," Phil said, shooting his niece an expression not unlike a father scolding his child.

"Listen to your uncle, you little brat," I said to her with a wink.

We paid our bill and I drove them back to Phil's apartment, where apparently Jessica was planning to spend the night on his couch. Throughout the entire ride, she protested from the back seat, insisting that the night was still young, and that there was more partying to do. I had to admit, I was feeling incredibly alive and awake, and would have gladly welcomed a few more hours out on the town. Admittedly, a part of me was hoping there would be a little more harmless flirting to further stoke my ego.

I let them out at the front of the apartment building and Phil stumbled toward the entrance. Jessica thanked me from the back seat, and opened the door to leave. She hesitated for a moment, and then turned toward me with a delightfully naughty grin on her face.

"Hey, drive around the building and meet me back here in five minutes," she said.

"Wh—what? Wh—"

Before I could respond, she shut the door and ran toward the entrance, where Phil was patiently waiting with the door held open. I sat for a moment, contemplating my next move. Did I really want to go out with this temptress, alone, to another bar? What if someone saw me with her? How would I explain that? What if she made another move on me? Would I have the self-restraint to resist?

I drove around the building and parked in a location where I could see the front entrance. The angel on my right shoulder told me to call it a night and go home. The devil on my left shoulder assured me that it would be rude to abandon her. As I continued to argue with the two of them, Jessica suddenly emerged from the entrance. Her head swiveled in all directions before she spotted me and jogged toward my car.

"Okay, let's go!" she exclaimed, slipping into the passenger seat.

"What about Phil?" I asked. "What did he say when you left?"

"He went straight to his room and passed out," she said. "Trust me, he'll never know I'm gone."

I shifted into drive and circled around the building, and then turned onto the main road.

"You are so cool for coming back for me, Mr. Bradford," she said. I found it amusing that she still refused to call me by my first name.

"Hell, just because your uncle can't keep up with us, we shouldn't have to suffer," I said. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"Hmmm...how about The Alehouse? I think there's a band playing there tonight."

"Too crowded and noisy," I said.

"You are such an old fart!" she laughed. "Just pull over so we can decide."

I pulled off into the nearest parking lot, which was mostly abandoned. I backed into a spot and before I could put the car in park, Jessica cranked up the radio.

"I love this song!" she shouted over the music. Appropriately enough, it was "Don't Stand So Close to Me" by the Police.

"Where are we going?" I shouted. She ignored me and mouthed the words to the song while closing her eyes. I simply watched her for a moment, recalling the spontaneous nature of youth and remembering what it was like to simply live in the moment.

It all happened so quickly. I felt as though I watched what happened from a third-person perspective, as if I were watching two characters in a movie. Jessica opened her eyes and, without saying a word, leaned into my seat and kissed me.

At first, I told myself that if I didn't kiss her back, then it wouldn't be cheating. That notion didn't last long, however, as I couldn't resist tasting her luscious lips. I could taste the peppermints she had been popping into her mouth all night. I hadn't kissed another woman since Rachel and I met nearly twenty years earlier. I had forgotten how exhilarating it was to kiss someone for the first time.

I felt guilty for doing it, but the devil on my left shoulder had tossed the angel aside and was whispering in my ear. "Kissing isn't cheating," the devil said. "You've kissed women before in polite greeting, right in front of your wife. This is hardly different. Just two lips meeting. Not a big deal."

My heart was racing. I felt frozen in place. I realized that one of my hands was still gripping the steering wheel, and the other was sitting stupidly on my lap. It was as if I believed that if I didn't touch her, then I was not actively participating. I could tell myself later that I was powerless to stop her; that I was nothing more than a helpless victim.

I felt her hand on my crotch and realized that I was fully aroused. She rubbed and squeezed my cock through my pants and then tugged down the zipper, freeing it. The next sensation I felt was her soft lips and warm mouth surrounding my cock.

There was no denying it anymore. I was now cheating on my wife. No more internal bargaining, and no more denial. I debated whether to stop her, believing that if I did so, I could later justify to myself that I had done the right thing. But that line had been crossed, and there was no turning back. Her mouth felt absolutely incredible, and she attacked my pole with such ferocity, and with such a sense of purpose, that I couldn't resist allowing her to continue. Since the line had already been crossed, I may as well enjoy it.

She sucked, licked, and jerked like a girl on a mission while I sat, unmoving, and still buckled into my seat. The entire scenario was so surreal; I couldn't believe it was happening. My head was swimming while her head was bobbing in my lap, bringing me closer and closer to a powerful release. I felt the surge building and tried to warn her, but with the music blaring I doubted she heard me.

It's no use; he sees her! Sting wailed. He starts to shake and cough! Just like that old man in that book by Nabakov!

The orgasm was so powerful I nearly blacked out. Jessica held onto my cock tightly with her lips and nearly choked on the first spurt, which must have shot straight to the back of her throat. She kept going, stroking my shaft with one hand while her lips formed a tight seal around my cock head. One wave after enough erupted from the base of my shaft, straight through to the tip. When that last wave subsided, the intense pleasure I felt was immediately replaced with an agonizing and overwhelming sensation of guilt.

What had I done?

She didn't seem to want to stop, and was apparently trying to coax another load out of me, but I finally managed to regain the control of my body and gently pulled her away. She turned the radio down.

"Sorry," she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "but I had to do something to cut through the sexual tension."

"Jessica, I..."

"I've been wanting to do that for so, so long!" she chirped. It didn't seem to bother her that she had just broken my marital vows.

"Jessica, you – we shouldn't have done that."

"Oh, Mr. Bradford, don't make a big deal out of this. It's just a blowjob."

I shook my head. This girl had just sucked my cock and swallowed my load – something I hadn't experienced since Rachel and I were dating – and she still couldn't call me by my first name. Rachel...oh, god. What about Rachel?

"Let's just go back to T.J.'s," she continued. "They have a jukebox. I can dance to a jukebox."

"Jessica, I think I need to bring you back to Phil's," I said.

She gave me that pouty expression again and placed her hand softly on my shoulder. "Mr. Bradford, don't make a big deal out of this, okay? I won't tell anyone, I swear. I just needed to get it out of my system – and I know you did, too. But it was just a one-time thing, okay? It'll never happen again, I swear."

Her gorgeous dark eyes twinkled. I believed her. What happened really was meaningless to her. The blowjob had replaced the handshake among the younger generation. At least, that's what I told myself in that moment in an effort to justify what happened. No matter how meaningless it was to her, however, I couldn't bear the weight of the guilt I felt at that moment.

I drove back to Phil's apartment and dropped her off in front of the building. She protested the entire time, and assured me again and again that we could continue our plans for the night as if nothing had happened. I had to get back home, where I belonged, and crawl into bed with the woman I loved.

When I crept up the stairs to our bedroom, I expected Rachel to be fast asleep. She always fell asleep long before I did. On this particular night, to my dread, she was wide awake when I cracked open the door to our bedroom.

"How did it go?" she asked.

I have always been a terrible liar, and Rachel has always possessed a talent that is normally reserved for the most elite interrogation experts in the FBI. Neither I nor our children ever got away with anything. I could feel my entire body shaking as she confronted me that night, although I tried my best to act as naturally as possible.

"It was good," I said. Shit, my voice croaked at the end of that sentence. She was onto me already.

"How's Phil?"

"He's good. A little depressed, but that's understandable." As I undressed and brushed my teeth, I could feel her eyes scanning my expression like a finely-calibrated, state of the art, lie detector.

"Was it just you two?" she asked. I didn't like where this was going at all.

"No, his niece came with us," I said as nonchalantly as possible. I ducked around the corner of the bathroom and riffled through a drawer pretending to look for something. I couldn't let her see my face.