Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: closetquean
Title: Haley
Summary: Cuckquean wife witnesses her husband's reunion with old flame.
Keywords: MF,MFF,F-solo,cons,voy-wife,cuckquean,female cuckold,reverse
cuckold
WARNING: This text file contains sexually explicit material.  If you do
not wish to read this type of material or you are under 18, please delete
this file immediately.



















   HALEY

   by closetquean

   John had dropped me off at the hotel and was probably pulling up in
front of Haley's house at this very moment, I calculated.

   My hotel room overlooked the bay.  Not bad for reserving the room
through one of those internet discount sites, I thought.  Usually, my rooms
overlooked the hotel's central heat and air tangle of ducts.  And the
parking lot.  What a wonderful change to gaze at the dark green hills
across the bay.  The water was choppy, greenish and dotted with parasails
of every color.  I opened the drapes completely.  I wanted sunlight. 
Anything to dispel my anxiety and foreboding.

   I unpacked my clothes and arranged them in the wardrobe, lined up my
toiletries on the sink countertop, and last, but not least, set up my
laptop.  My only connection to the outside world.  And Scrabble.  And
Facebook.  Ah, Facebook.  I logged into John's account and navigated
directly to his messages.  It was the most recent message from Haley that I
homed in on.  Again.

   John,

   I don't know what you think you'll achieve by coming here on Saturday.
Whatever we had ended 25 years ago.  Guilt won't bring those years back. 
And there's no place for you in your daughter's life -- she's already an
adult.  But, if you're going to drop by, I can't stop you.  I see you're
still as stubborn as ever.

   Haley

   Haley.  The woman he'd left all those years ago, when he was just 17. 
Haley was ten years older than John and pregnant with his baby.  She'd
known John wasn't willing to marry her.  But she hadn't known he'd leave
her high and dry and move to Nevada to be with me.  But he did.  She raised
their daughter on her own.  And even though John and I built our life
together, and had our own children, the intervening miles and passing years
didn't make John forget about Haley like he thought they would.

   Still, John had never mentioned them.  I'd never seen him try to call or
write Haley.  I could have fooled myself into thinking he had gotten over
her completely -- except --he'd never stopped dreaming of her.  John would
murmur her name while asleep.  He'd even had long, involved arguments with
her in his sleep.  He'd whispered her name lovingly into my ear, "'Lee..."
when making love to me.  A few times.  Okay, more than just a few times
over the years.  Actually, the last time was just last week.

   That whisper, that whisper filled with lust and longing, was what made
me decide on this somewhat unconventional (or crazy and stupid) course of
action.  I used John's Facebook account to send Haley a message.  I wrote
the letter as if it had come from John.  It took forever, it seemed, but I
was pretty sure she'd read the letter and believe it was from John.  The
content was not altogether true, I had to admit.  If I had been completely
honest with her, the message would have gone something like this:

   Dearest Haley,

   Even though we've been apart for so long, I still think of all those
nights we spent together.  And I can't help it - I still want you.  I can
almost feel myself sliding into your body, into your slickness.  Each
night, I'd bury myself so deep into you.  Only there, thrusting inside of
you, did I ever feel I was home.

   One other thing: Mila loves watching me fuck other women.  And she
thinks it'd be great for me to start fucking you again, seeing as how (in
retrospect and with the knowledge that comes with age) you were so in love
with me then that you were grateful for the sloppy seconds, thirds and
fourths you received whenever I came home after seeing my girlfriends. 
Mila thinks you're a submissive freak and would fit perfectly into our
kinky lifestyle.  And I agree.

   So, spread your legs, baby, because I'm coming home.

   Love always,

   John

   THAT would have been the truth.  Instead, I crafted a letter that was
guaranteed to melt her heart and dissolve the bitterness of John's
desertion.  I'd used John's own memories he'd related to me to convince her
how he'd never stopped loving her, how he'd regretted the idiotic decisions
he'd made due to his youth and inexperience, and how, with the years flying
by, maybe the two of them could grasp at the happiness denied them all
those years ago.  P.S.  Mila understood completely and was willing to do
anything to make John happy as well as to atone for causing Haley such
misery before.

   John got a little misty when I had him read the letter -- but he managed
to restrain his emotions.  He did not, however, manage to restrain his
raging hard-on at my prurient and clever plan of action.  John re-read the
letter again.  While reading, he unzipped his pants and forced my head
down, down, down over his cock until I gagged.  As his cum flooded my
throat, he pressed "send message."

   My machinations were in motion; whether John could work his way back
into Haley's heart (and panties), however, was up to him.  He was
confident, sure of his power over her after all these years.

   "Just let me see her," he'd said.  "All I have to do is see her and I'm
sure I can start fucking her again.  I know it."

   His confidence turned me on.

   My phone and my computer remained silent and still: John had not called
or messaged me.  I could only imagine what was happening.  Haley could be
pretty tough; she might have just sent him running.  I doubted it, though.
I was pretty sure John could talk his way back between her legs without
much effort.  Pretty damn sure.  The knowledge sent a thrill through me and
evoked an image of John's naked ass pumping between his old lover's spread
thighs.  Unable to resist the urge, I flopped onto the bed, my hand pressed
firmly between my legs.  John, as always, was the star of my sexual
imaginings.  I envisioned his thick shaft completely buried inside of
Haley's pussy, making her cry out and triggering my own shuddering release.

   I slept.

   When I woke up, the sun had already set.  The room was dark and cool. 
Shivering, I turned the heat on and headed to the bathroom to wash up and
make myself presentable for dinner in the lobby.  The process took longer
now than it used to, but within a quarter hour, the face that gazed back at
me in the mirror no longer looked wan and puffy from sleep.  My black hair
shone.  Eyeliner and mascara, blush and lipstick, powder and perfume. 
Black jeans, black leather boots, low-cut top of gray silk.

   I stepped back to appraise my appearance.  There were a few more
wrinkles around my eyes and mouth, I noticed, sighing.  I dimmed the almost
blindingly bright bathroom light.  Finally.

   I was pretty again.

   I'd hoped John would have come back for me by now.  I checked my phone
messages.  Nothing.  He hadn't bothered to call me and let me know what was
happening.  A sharp twinge assailed me.  It was jealousy, I knew.  No
Facebook messages, either.  The flashing icon alerted me to open up my
Skype application and log in.

   I opened up the application.  The video feed was on.  Something was
moving in the display.  I peered closer, then stepped back with a slight
gasp, eyes wide.

   John was working his magic on Haley.  On his old flame.  His first love.
Just as I'd dreaded and hoped for and fantasized about.  He had worked his
magic in and around Haley's mind and heart.

   Just as he was working his hard shaft in and out of Haley's dripping
hole.

   I gazed, hypnotized, watching my husband, my best friend, my soul mate,
fuck another woman.  He was far gone, I could tell, lost in the sensations
of this novel, exciting flesh.

   Despite my growling stomach, I knew I wouldn't be getting dolled up for
dinner and drinks downstairs.  There was no way I wanted to miss even one
second of my man's fuck.  I couldn't tear myself away from the scene in
front of me if I wanted to.  Plus, I desperately needed to cum.  Again. 
Inconceivable, I thought, and laughed silently.  The door had barely
clicked closed behind me before I flung myself on the bed, the laptop
barely inches from my greedy eyes.  I came.  In seconds.

   John was still pumping between Haley's spread thighs as I called for
room service.

   "I'd like the salmon," I ordered, panting.  I was still breathless from
my most recent orgasm.  "With, um, garlic potatoes and asparagus.  Thanks."

   Salmon sounded delicious.  Normally, I order pasta or salad, but I
wanted the salmon.  Was I craving the taste of fish in my mouth?  The
thought cracked me up.

   I checked the action on the screen.  They'd changed positions; Haley was
astride my man, riding him furiously.  My view consisted of Haley's back,
her ass sliding up to reveal John's wet, shining cock before it disappeared
again as her ass pressed against his balls.  I loved the view of their
conjoined flesh.  But I wanted to see her face.  I wanted to witness her
excitement, her need, generated by my husband's rock-hard manhood inside of
her.

   As if he'd heard my silent pleas, John lifted Haley up just enough so
that - while still remaining buried within her, he could spin her body
around to face his feet.  To face the cam recording them.  To face ME.

   Haley wasn't smiling, I noticed.  She rode him, excitedly, as John's
hands kneaded her soft breasts.  With her eyes squeezed shut, Haley wholly
concentrated on working towards her climax.  Although she made no sounds,
her lips moved without stopping, as if she were begging.  Or, I thought,
looking at her grimace of concentration, her closed eyes, her ceaselessly
moving lips, she looked as if she were praying, reciting a litany of
entreaties, like a devotee reveling in an ecstasy of devotion.

   Suddenly, Haley threw her head back as her body went rigid, then began
shuddering.  A breathy moan escaped her throat as waves of pleasure wracked
her senses.  John's hands quickly moved from cupping her breasts to rolling
her erect nipples between thumb and forefinger.  Just as he would with me.
I quirked a smile, knowing what she would get next.  And she did.  For, as
Haley's orgasm began to subside, John ceased caressing her breasts and
nipples and began squeezing them mercilessly, pulling them until her
nipples were stretched thin.  Haley whimpered at the pain.  Her whimpers
only urged John on.  He pinched them harder, harder, harder, without mercy.
I closed my eyes, then, reliving John's fingers on my own nipples, the
searing blend of pleasure and pain that he'd made me crave, crawl for, beg
for.

   Haley let out a keening cry of surrender.  My eyes snapped open to watch
John, knowing the sound would trigger his own climax.  It did.  John's
thrust his hips upward, burying himself in her heat and wetness.  I looked
closely and was rewarded with the sight of his balls pulsing as the cum
pumped relentlessly into his newest woman.  With one final growl, John
finally finished unloading his semen, then collapsed back onto the bed,
spent.

   I slid my hand down, between my legs, once more.  My pussy was sopping
wet, my finger easily sliding within its folds, tracing circles on my
swollen clit.  For, while the sight of the two of them fucking and
exploding in ecstasy was no less than spectacular, the grande finale was
yet to come.

   And come it did.

   Haley, breathless and weak, had collapsed backwards on top of John, her
spread legs dangling weakly outside of John's legs.  John, conscious of the
view presented to me, spread his thighs even farther apart to make sure I
had a clear view of the aftermath of his fucking.  I thanked him, silently,
as I was presented with my reward.

   As I watched and waited, the Carly Simon song, "Anticipation," began
playing softly in the background of my brain.  And I was rewarded, as I'd
fantasized by the sight of Haley's cum-filled cunt slowly releasing its
treasure.  John's cum - hot, sweet, and white - was seeping out on all
sides of his softening shaft as John resumed stroking in and out of her,
mixing his cum with her juices to create the thick "fuck cream" I loved. 
Each upstroke added more cream to his cock.  Each down stroke displayed
even more of his fuck.  Soon, a ring of his fuck juice encircled the base
of his cock.  More of it was smeared all over his balls and had collected
in the creases of his thighs.

   Finally, John lifted Haley up and let his cock slip out of her.  With
his own thighs, he pushed her legs even further apart and held her hips in
the air a few inches above him to display her cunt.  Her lips were loose,
stretched, I noticed admiringly.  John's slid a finger between her folds
and into its depths.  He hooked some more of the delicious ambrosia created
by his semen and her juices and pulled it out.  The drops of cream became a
thin stream that dripped onto the bed sheet.  Soon, a small pool had
collected beneath them.  I wanted, more than anything, to be able to kneel
between their legs and lick up every single drop of their cum.  I wallowed
in my fevered imaginings of the heat, the slickness, the smell, the TASTE
of their fuck ambrosia.

   My orgasm exploded outward from its white-hot lust center within me; a
nova.  Supernova.  A brilliant white light that filled my brain and seared
my flesh.

   Then, oblivion.



   I wasn't sure if I had fainted or just fell asleep when the electronic
ringtone of my cellphone pulled me back from the void.  It was John, I
knew, since the ringtone was "Under My Thumb" by the Rolling Stones.  I had
chosen the ringtone because subtly revealing his power over me via the
ringtone titillated and amused me.  After all of John's calls that had
allowed me to electronically spy on them via his hidden webcam or just
listen to him fucking other women through the cell phone, however, it
wasn't funny anymore.  It just turned me on.  It made me wet.  I had become
conditioned for arousal whenever I heard the song in any format.  I was
willing to bet that even a polka version of "Under My Thumb" being played
on the accordian'd do the trick, too.

   On the screen, John was sprawled on his back, cradling Haley on his left
shoulder, his left hand absently caressing the curve of her breast.  He
held the cell phone to his right ear, waiting for me to answer.  I pressed
"accept".

   "Hey..." I answered, softly.

   "Hey.  Just checking on you," John said.  "You okay?"

   "With you fucking your first love again?  Like, over and over?" I asked.

   Abruptly, the hand stroking Haley's breasts stopped in mid-caress and I
saw a flicker of concern in his eyes.  He remained silent.

   I laughed, softly, and let him off the hook.

   "I'm just kidding," I assured him.  "I am so much better than I thought
I'd be.  I'm good.  Actually, more than good."

   The hand resumed its exploration of his new lover's tit.  John looked
directly toward the hidden cam lens and smiled.

   "Really?" he asked.  "Tell me the truth, Mila."

   "I swear to God, I've never been more turned on in my life.  NEVER," I
said.  "Okay, I'm a little jealous.  But that's part of what turns me
on...you know that.  I must have come twenty times just watching you fuck
her.  At least twenty times."

   "Well, then, what do you say?" John asked, his voice steely.

   My pussy twitched in response.

   "Thank you, Master," I whispered.  "Thank you for letting me watch you
fuck Haley."

   John wrested his arm from beneath Haley's head and rolled onto his side.
He propped himself up on his right elbow, pressing the phone tightly
against his ear.  He slid his left hand between Haley's thighs.

   "Open," he told her.

   Obediently, Haley slid her legs further apart for him.  And,
unknowingly, for my view.  John slid his index finger into the wet depths
of her pussy, looked directly at the webcam.  At me.

   "Again," he ordered.

   "Thank you for letting me watch you slide your finger into Haley's
pussy," I murmured.

   "And?" he prompted.

   "You are so good to me.  I love being your cunt," I whispered,
entranced, watching the pussy juice glistening on his finger.

   "Good girl," he said.  "Haley's been a good girl, too.  Here."

   Without warning, John put the phone to Haley's ear.

   "Mila has something she wants to say to you," he told her.  He licked
two fingers and slid them inside of her.

   "Hello?" Haley said.  Her voice was husky, I noticed.  Sexy.

   "Hi, Haley," I said, tentatively.

   "Hi, Mila," she said.  Worry furrowed her brow.  "I hope you're not-"

   I interrupted her.

   "Don't worry.  Really.  I'm not mad," I assured her.  "Actually, I'm
happy.  John's never stopped wanting you.  Never."

   On the monitor, I watched Haley cover the phone and ask John, "Really?
Mila's happy for us?"

   "Yes, I told you that," John said, his answer muffled by the nipple
between his lips.  He looked up, his lips making a wet smacking noise as
they released Haley's erect nipple.  "Talk to her.  She's waiting.  Or,
wait ?  let me talk to her for a second.  Give me the phone."

   Haley handed the phone over.  John eased his fingers out from between
her legs, then used his still-slick index finger to press a key and turn on
the speakerphone.  He reached down again to push Haley's thighs further
apart and began rubbing her clit in lazy, slow circles.  Haley closed her
eyes, then let her head fall back upon the pillow, disappearing from the
camera's view.

   "Hey, honey, I put you on speakerphone," John greeted me.  "Haley's
worried you're pissed at her.  Tell her you're not mad."

   "Haley, I'm not mad," I said again.

   "Tell her you're happy that I'm seeing her again," John prompted.  He
lowered his head back down to her breast and began sucking her nipple
again, hungrily.  He thrust his fingers back inside her dewy opening,
forcing a small cry from her lips.

   "I AM happy.  I'm happy you're seeing her again," I said, earnestly.

   "You know we've been having sex," John said, mumbling, his mouth pressed
to Haley's soft flesh.  "Are you happy about that?

   Haley gasped and tried to pull away, slapping John's hand between her
thighs.  John only laughed at her embarrassed protests and continued
fingering her hole as she lie pinioned beneath him.

   "Yes, I know you're having sex..." I trailed off.

   "And?"

   "And I'm happy..." I said, faintly.  "I'm happy that you're having sex,"
I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.  Even though John knew just how
much I enjoyed this, I was mortified that Haley could hear me.  To realize
how desperate for John I'd become.  That I'd do anything.  Accept anything.
For him.

   John slid down between her outstretched thighs and was licking her
swollen lips, nibbling her engorged clit.  Haley's hips were moving,
grinding, undulating beneath John's expert tongue.

   "I'm tasting her pussy right now," John said, "How's that make you
feel...?"

   "Happy," I murmured.  "Excited."

   Briefly, John turned to face the camera.  His cheeks glistened with her
juices.

   "You love this," John said, "Tell Haley you love it when I fuck her. 
How you've been begging me to fuck her.  Tell her."

   "It's true, Haley," I admitted.  "I love that John is fucking you
again...that's what he's been wanting ?  needing ?  all these years.  I've
always known that.  So, yes, I begged him to start fucking you again..."

   John slid himself upward, covering Haley's body.  He raised himself up
and leaned back on his knees.  He grasped his cock, which had sprung up
stiffly between them, and rubbed the head between Haley's slick pussy lips.

   "I'm rubbing my cock on her pussy, Mila.  Beg me again," he urged his
wife.

   "Beg me to fuck Haley."

   "Please, please..." I whispered.  "Please fuck Haley, John...I want your
cock in her...  Please."

   John thrust forward, plunging his cock inside of Haley his groan of
satisfaction.mingled with the long moan that seemed to have been torn from
Haley's throat.  John withdrew his shaft slowly, maddeningly, and remained
poised above Haley, leaving just the tip of the head of his shaft inside. I
knew it was entirely for my benefit.  I gazed at my husband's erect
manhood, enthralled and astounded ?  it was harder and thicker than I'd
seen in years.  Or ever, The sight of Haley's slick juices shining on every
bit of his exposed shaft caused my own wetness to overflow and slide down
the insides of my thighs.

   "You love it, don't you, bitch?  Love that I"m fucking Haley...I love
fucking Haley...God, I love fucking Haley....love her tight, wet pussy...I
love fucking her...she feels so good wrapped around my cock...."

   I heard myself whimper in response, my hand pressed against my throbbing
cunt.

   I watched Haley as she raised her hips upward and tried to engulf his
cock within her.  John forced his hips forward, burying his entire length
in her...and fucking her, hard.  John kissed her, his full lips and tongue
seeking the sweetness of her mouth just as his plunging hardness was
drenched in her honey below.

   "Oh, yeah...." John said, "I've always loved fucking you...so sweet..."

   I felt cold, suddenly.  My hand dropped onto the bed, useless.

   Haley's lips traced their way up John's neck in a path of liquid heat,
then she started whispering into his ear.  Whatever she told him excited
him even more: he fucked her harder and faster until her whispers became a
frenzied litany of her love,her need, her desire for him and him alone.  I
watched Haley, beg, plead, lick, suck, and finally, lose herself in her
orgasm.  Just as John lost himself in Haley, murmuring her name over and
over as her rocked atop of her, urgently driving towards his own release.

   With one mighty thrust, John emptied himself into Haley, his cock
pulsing, pumping his seed deep into her depths as he called her name over
and over again, before collapsing, spent, on top of her.

   "I love you," John said.  "I always have."

   Haley's hands caressed my husband's back and buttocks.

   "I know." Haley said. .

   I pushed the laptop lid down until it clicked, grasped the power cord in
my shaking fingers, popped the plug from the outlet and let the limp power
cord slip from my numb fingers onto the hotel carpet under my feet.

   ?

   Chapter 4

   The hotel curtains were still drawn tightly shut.  The television screen
remained dark.  The battery to my cell phone perched atop the hotel alarm
clock/radio as it blinked in silence: 6:47.  The handset to the hotel phone
dangled by its twisted cord over the side of the nightstand.  The laptop
sat untouched and stripped of its power, with the lid mercifully down, on
the dark cherry veneer of the hotel desk.

   The bottle of Grand Marnier, however, had not only been touched - it had
been relieved of almost half of its contents.  The silence of the cold
hotel room was only occasionally broken by the musical tinkle of ice being
swirled in my glass of liqueur.  I'd succeeded in my quest for the day: I
was drunk.  Drunk as a skunk.  Loose as a goose.  High as a fly.

   Unfortunately, though, not drunk enough, loose enough, or high enough to
shake my feelings of fear and foreboding.

   John was in love with Haley.

   He wasn't just horny for her.  She wasn't just an ex-lover.  He didn't
just feel obligated to her as the mother of his child.  He was in love with
Haley.  I'd witnessed their undeniable passion for each other on the
laptop. Only three hours ago.  John had started fucking Haley with the
intent of putting me in my place.  Which was good.  Then, things went
south. I watched him fuck her and get completely lost in his desire, his
need for HER.  He'd completely forgotten about me, I knew.  The sex - or,
love-making - had been their bridge back to each other.  Whatever feelings
they'd had when they first fell in love had been resurrected.  "Re-ignited"
would be a better description, I thought.  They were burning for each
other, consumed by desire for each other.  Being witness to their
passionate love-making went from arousing to painful.  But that wasn't what
had driven me to drink myself into oblivion.

   I took a large swig from my glass.  The cognac blazed a path of liquid
heat to my belly and brought tears to my eyes.  Unfortunately, I wasn't
drunk enough, I knew.  Not drunk enough to unhear my husband tell another
woman "I love you." It wasn't just the words - it was how he'd said them -
with such stark honesty and undisguised need - that filled me with cold
terror.

   What a fool I was.  What a blind, naive, egotistical fool to think I
could pull John and Haley's strings, that their relationship could be
dictated by any person.  I was the one who suggested he start seeing her
again.  Because I was horny and wanted to watch him fuck another woman that
he could make use of on a regular basis.  An obedient, pliant woman who
would spread her legs for him whenever he wanted.  Haley seemed perfect:
she'd loved him unconditionally, she'd accepted - even encouraged - his
relationships with other women, and (even though he didn't understand it
back then) she was, like me, a woman who got off on her submission to her
man.  A woman who knew her place.  And loved it.  Again, like me.  I'd
concluded that Haley was the woman for him; that she'd satisfy his needs,
yet not threaten his primary relationship with me.

   What I'd seen and heard proved my conclusion to be wrong.  What the fuck
had I been thinking?!!

   The room tilted.  Then spun.  Uh-oh, I thought.  I'm fucked.

   I clung, nauseous and with no control over my body, to the vicious
tilt-a-whirl of party hell also known as "drinking way the fuck too much."
I staggered to the bathroom and collapsed on my ass in front of the toilet.
I've become a bobble-head, I thought, as my head lolled around, loose, atop
my neck.  Sheer luck plopped my forehead down upon the toilet seat so that
I'd puke right into the bowl.  I gagged.  I retched.  I stuck my finger
down my throat.  Stupid not to eat anything, I chided myself, seeing and
smelling the only thing I'd manage to expel - bile.  Weakened, I slid down
to the floor.  The tile was hard beneath my body, but wonderfully cool
against my cheek.  The tilt-a-whirl spun, hard, and fast enough to
transform everything into a swirling blur - I scrabbled desperately to hang
on, but centrifugal force, as usual, won out.  Unable to hang on, I was
flung out, flailing and panicked, into the deepening black.

  
***************************************************************************
********

   I woke up - relieved to have escaped the madness of my stupor and the
nightmares that had descended and tortured me before bursting into
half-remembered fragments.  My hangover was like a medieval torture device
combination tool: My skull was being crushed inward by a steel headband on
which enough hammers were attached to encircle and beat a staccato of agony
into my brain.

   I had been put into the bed and covered with the down comforter.  John
must have finally come to the room.  I didn't see him.  Or hear him.  Or
hear anything, for that matter.  But he'd been here.  I should have been on
the cold bathroom floor instead of tucked into the bed.  Plus, the
television had been turned on and then muted, apparently.  CNN, of course.
A concerned-looking Cooper Anderson was no doubt reporting the most recent
world disaster - but his moving lips made no sound.  Thank God, I thought,
cradling my head in my hands.  My headache was pounding.  Excruciating.

   I glanced at the nightstand.  The blinking red numbers read 9:18.  A
glass of water and four extra-strength Tylenol had been placed to the right
of the alarm clock.  I slid the pills into my hand, tossed them into my
mouth and washed them down in one swallow.  John must have left them there
before going down to engineer the band for their 8:30 start time.  How
sweet of him, I thought, my lips curving into a gentle smile.

   I slid my legs out of the bed and shakily stood up.  It took a few
seconds to feel steady enough to make my way, slowly, to the bathroom.  I
glanced at the image reflected in the mirror ?  I gave a small start.  I
looked like shit.  My hair, which usually hung straight and shone like
black silk, was a matted mess.  The mascara I'd applied earlier had smeared
around my eyes, making them appear sunken and creepy.  I looked like a
zombie.  The mirror, usually my friend, had become a fearsome thing to turn
away from as quickly as possible.  So I did.  I stepped into the shower,
planning a quickie clean up job in order to get down to the club ASAP.  He
was probably getting impatient, waiting.  I was already late.  Funny that
he hadn't called me.  Usually, he wanted me at his side from the first down
beat.

   I stopped in mid-motion, frozen, letting the shampoo run down in
rivulets over my face.  My eyes burned.

   Haley.

   I'd forgotten about her.  Probably because of my throbbing headache. 
Images of the my husband and Haley entwined, caressing, looking into each
other's eyes....declaring their unwavering love to each other flooded my
thoughts with a vengeance.  My heart felt as if impaled by an iron stake. A
rusting iron stake.

   I could just imagine the scene at the hotel nightclub.  Haley was
probably perched on the bench seat next to the soundboard.  In my spot. 
And, from what I'd witnessed on the webcam, they probably couldn't disguise
their desire for each other.  They probably hadn't even considered it. 
John had probably been kissing her, nuzzling her, touching her ?  unable to
help himself.  Just as he couldn't restrain himself in front of the webcam.
I knew he was.  In full view of the entire band performing within a few
feet to John's right.  With a sinking heart, I realized that all of the
band members had seen Haley.  And were no doubt entertaining explanations
about the identity of John's mystery chick.  And what the fuck had happened
to Mila.  His wife.  ME.

   I cringed, utterly humiliated.

   I didn't want to go to the club.  What I wanted was to run away.  I
stood still, eyes closed, and allowed the hot water to cascade over my head
and down my body while I considered what to do.

   I heard the shower curtain rings slide open, felt cool air on my skin.
My eyes snapped open, but I small scream escaped my lips before I realized
that the intruder was just my husband.  He was holding the curtain open and
was smiling at me.  Strangely.

   "You scared the SHIT out of me!" I shrieked.  I hit him square in the
chest.

   John laughed, unmindful of the punch.  He leaned into the shower and
pressed his lips to mine, softly, lovingly.  I felt my anger and panic melt
away.  As we broke away from our kiss, my eyes searched his face.  He
looked back at me, the expression of love and amused indulgence he wore was
familiar and beloved.  He was still mine, I saw.  Relief flooded me.  My
ragged hole torn through my heart shrunk in upon itself until it
disappeared.  As if it had never been.

   "I missed you," he said.  "I'm on break for the next, um," he consulted
his watch " 28 minutes."

   "Sure didn't LOOK like you missed me," I said, tartly.  "Those vid?"

   John had put his index finger to my lips and shook his head.

   "Ssshhh," he told me, then leaned over to turn the water off.  He
reached up and pulled a huge, fluffy white towel off the rack and slowly
dried my body with it, his eyes locked with mine the entire time.  The
intensity of his gaze increased until his eyes seemed to be burning into
mine like a laser.

   "What?" I asked, piqued.

   "Close your eyes," he said in a low voice.

   He grabbed my arm and helped me out of the shower.  A quickie during
break?  Had to be.  I let him lead me, blind, out of the bathroom and
toward the bed.  Waves of arousal traveled from my loins and outward
through my body.  I bumped into the mattress and stopped.

   "Keep your eyes closed," John said, sternly.  "And don't move."

   I did as he ordered, and stood quietly, waiting.  I heard him unzip his
pants.  I heard the soft thump of his pants hitting the floor.  My
anticipation increased.  I waited for the touch of his hands on my
nakedness.  But no touch came.  Instead, I heard the mattress sinking under
his weight.

   "Shhhh..." he warned.

   I heard him moving on the bed, followed by a quick intake of breath.  He
began to moan, but stifled it quickly.

   "What are ?  " I began.

   "Quiet, Mila.  I told you not to talk.  And to keep your eyes closed,"
he reminded me.

   Again, I obeyed him without question.

   "Okay," John said.  "NOW, open your eyes."

   I smiled and opened my eyes.

   My smile faded.

   John was on the bed, facedown, his neck craned toward me standing on the
side of the bed.  I realized that he was laying between the outspread,
dusky brown and shapely thighs of another woman.  I could see his cock
completely engulfed inside the welcoming depths of the woman's vagina.
   Haley's.