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From: bitbard@newsguy.com (BitBard)
Subject: {BITBARD} RP "Scandalous" (MF, Cheat, Celeste: 10,10,10)
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Content Warning: This work of fiction contains mature subject matter
and graphic sexual language including descriptions of consensual sex
between a man and a woman. If you think you can't deal with this
story, or if it's illegal to possess such material in your locality,
please hit the delete button now. If you're a minor as defined by the
laws in your locality then you MUST stop now and go no further. As a
work of fiction, any similarities to any person(s) dead, alive, or
fictional is merely a really weird coincidence.
Subject: A small town teacher, a world renouned writer (not me,
really), and a scandal in the making.
Subject Matter: (MF, Cheat)
Rating: (X) Not suitable for minors. May be illegal in some areas.
Copyright (c) 1998 by bitbard@newsguy.com.
Distribution Rights: May be distributed freely WITHOUT MODIFICATION on
USENET, USENET II, not-for-profit web sites, not-for-profit ftp sites,
and news archival services which offer free public access to >>ALL<<
archived articles. Modification in violation of this license is
defined as any change which breaks the digital PGP signature of this
document. All other rights are specifically reserved by the author.
All distribution rights to this story, expire at midnight December 31,
1999.
Creation Date: 8/21/98
Distribution Date: 09/04/98
Credits: Mike Ink has perfected the punctuation, humbled homonyms, and
generally polished this story more than you will ever know. As always
my Mike has my undying gratitude for this altruistic act of charity.
:-)
Archive: This and all my stories are archived at
http://extra.newsguy.com/~bitbard or http://www.bitsmart.com/sandman.
============
"Scandalous"
-- By BitBard
============
He was the talk of the small New England town, even before the moving
vans, stuffed to overflowing, pulled up to the antique beachfront
house. The town matrons would gather over tea and whisper in hushed
scorning tones about that man; that man who wrote such scandalous
books, that man who was darling in the eye of the press; that man who
had eaten with royalty and presidents; but -- never-the-less -- that
man who saw fit to include such lurid descriptions of couples engaged
in fornication within his books. Some argued the value of art, some
argued the sin of pornography; but everyone talked, though few
listened.
Faith listened disinterestedly as she casually sipped her tea. She
had read all of Alan's books and many of the articles about him long
before these women had ever heard of him. She had known his prose
from his first, largely ignored, book to his latest best selling
chartbuster. It had been authors with vision like his who had guided
her to a career as an English teacher. Having obtained that
illustrious fate, it remained authors like him that kept her from
going mad from the endless superficial explorations of the same dead,
and for the most part, dated, authors.
"Did you see his ad in today's paper?" Tonya Elders asked, in a voice
that positively dripped scandal.
Instantly, the conversation quieted, and ten pairs of eyes turned to
stare at the now smugly knowing woman.
"No." and "Do tell!" and "Ad?" were the excited replies, creating an
expectant, explosive air in the tearoom.
Slowly, playing up her brief moment in the spotlight for all it was
worth, Tonya reached for her purse. After a great deal of fumbling
and shuffling, she extracted a small clipping.
She cleared her throat, and with a dramatic voice, read: "Well known
author seeks model for sitting. No prior modeling experience
necessary." She concluded by reading the phone number.
A stunned silence filled the room like the expectant calm before the
storm. Alan Bower was the only well known author in the area; no one
in the room doubted who had placed the ad. Their proper minds
pondered unceasingly: why would a writer need a model, and how would
the model pose? Considering the subject of his books, what woman would
dare allow herself to even consider the idea? Surely no one in Chapel
Hill! And then, like a cloud grown too black and swollen to contain
its contents, the room exploded into conversation.
Sitting quietly off to the side, Faith sipped her tea and watched the
torrent of activity around her with a bemused expression.
***
Faith stared at herself in the mirror thoughtfully, critically noting
the minor flaws and imperfections that no-one save herself would ever
note. Thoughts of "If my nose were more pert, my cheekbones higher
and better defined, my complexion more even, my cheeks rosier" rolled
through her mind.
A week had passed since she had learned of the ad; a week of her
husband coming home without a word, save, "What's for dinner"; a week
of sleeping alone in bed with her husband snoring beside her; a week
of rising before dawn and lecturing to children who did not want to be
taught; a week of gossipy conversation with other women that more and
more sounded like the same old words wrapped around the same old
thoughts; a week of thinking how this week was the same as the week
before it, and the week before that, and the year before that.
Through it all, there was that soft-spoken, cryptic invitation
beckoning her. So she stared at herself again in the mirror. Men
would not throw themselves at her feet, but she was still pretty, and
still young. Her figure was round where it should be round and soft
where it should be soft. If men would not throw themselves at her
feet, at least they would not decline her attentions. Most of them
anyway. Apparently with some men, familiarity bred if not contempt,
then at least disinterest.
She was surprised to see her hand tremble as she reached for the
phone, and promptly scolded herself for taking this far too seriously.
By now Alan had probably found his model, and even if he were still
looking, he probably wouldn't choose her. This was merely the chance
to talk to someone that she had admired for a very long time, and if
by some miracle he did want her to sit for him, then maybe it was also
a chance to get to know the man behind the words.
Again she reached for the phone; this time her hand was steady, at
least enough to dial the number. On the fourth ring she almost hung
up, but let it continue in the hopes that she would not have to work
herself up to this again.
After the fifth ring she heard, "Hello?"
"Uh. Hi. Yes, I was calling about your modeling job?" Faith said
hurriedly, stumbling over the words.
"Well, well!" the man laughed. "I was beginning to think I'd have to
import a model from more civilized location. Do you have some free
time this afternoon?"
"Y-Yes." Faith stuttered.
"Do you have a pen to jot down the address?" he asked.
"I know where you live."
Again he laughed. "I forget how different living in a small town can
be. Shall we say four?"
"Yes." Faith said.
"Wonderful. Wear something casual."
There was a click at the other end of the line indicating he had hung
up, but Faith just stood there, staring at the wall and listening to
the electric silence as her mind went numb, and the reality of what
she had done dawned on her.
***
The door opened to reveal a man who was taller than she expected, but
other than that he looked exactly the same as he did on the jacket of
his latest book. He was not handsome, not in the current sense
anyway, but his face had character, and there was an air of supreme
confidence and authority about him. There was the smell of pipe about
him, mixed with the sent of Old Spice, that she found pleasant and
appealing.
His steel blue eyes considered her for a moment, and inwardly she
cringed at that examination. Slowly, ever so slowly, his stern, dour
expression changed to a warm welcoming smile. It was not an instant
transformation of one being polite for the sake of being polite, but a
slow gradual change that imparted a genuine warmth.
"I think you will do very nicely, Ms..."
"Roberts. Mrs. Roberts."
His smile faded just a touch at that, though it still lingered.
"Please, come in. I have a place reserved for us in the garden. The
landscapers haven't finished with it yet, but it's peaceful enough for
this interview."
He led her through the house, which was still cluttered with the boxes
and disorganized chaos of a large move that hasn't quite been finished
yet.
"Why would an author need a model?" Faith asked as they walked,
asking the question that had nagged her from that first day when Tonya
had read the ad to them.
Instead of an answer, Alan asked, "What do you do for a living?"
"I teach English at the high school."
"And are you only a teacher, or do you do other things as well?"
Faith paused a moment. In truth she did precious few things besides
teach, but to say that would be to admit a horrible failing. She
dabbled at pottery and poetry, but produced nothing she felt
comfortable sharing with others.
"I do other things." Faith replied hesitantly.
"As do I." Alan said as he led her into the garden.
He motioned for her to take a seat which she did. He walked over to
another chair, and after sitting to face her, picked up a sketchpad
and a pencil.
"I find this useful," Alan said as he drew a long, curved line. "It
relaxes me. I enjoy drawing, though I'm not good enough to sell what
I draw. This also grounds me; puts me in touch with real people with
real needs and desires. If I decide to use you as a model, and you
decide to sit for me, then I'd like you to talk as I draw you. When I
sit down to write again, I will use much of you in what I write."
"Talk? About what?"
"About anything at all. What your day was like. What you enjoyed,
what you didn't. What you want, what you don't want."
"And you'll draw me like this?"
Alan nodded. "However you wish. Did you think you would be posing
nude?"
Faith blushed furiously. "I don't know what I thought. I've never
done this before."
"Why don't you start by telling me why a married English teacher would
present herself at the door of a complete stranger, totally unaware of
what she would be asked to do."
After a great deal of hesitation, she told him. She told him how much
she had enjoyed reading his books, and how boring and routine her life
had become. She revealed how coming here was a chance to capture,
however briefly, the excitement she found in her reading.
He listened as he drew, and as she talked, the corner of his mouth
curled up into a soft, satisfied, lopsided smile.
***
A week passed and then another after that. The daily tea parties and
bridge games were gratefully forgotten as she slipped off to Alan's
house and sat for him. With each passing day, she became bolder and
freer with what she told him, until finally she was telling him things
she would barely tell herself. He never interrupted or commented on
the things she said, answering only when prompted as she assured
herself he really was listening.
She couldn't say when the sittings became the highpoint of her day,
but they had. In the hour after school let out, when she stood before
the mirror pondering what she would wear that day, she was as a child
on the eve before Christmas, anticipating what rewards would soon
follow.
At night, as she lay in bed trying to tune out the tortured snores of
her husband, she would sometimes blush at the things she had confessed
earlier that day. Sometimes she would wonder if she had finally said
too much. Yet at the end of each session, he would see her to the
door, smile warmly at her, thank her graciously, and then gallantly
kiss her hand. No one had ever done that before. It sounded silly
and something only a quirky, eccentric artist would do, but it made
her feel like he genuinely cared for her.
Faith stared at her sleeping husband as the pale moonlight cast his
face in a pallid, deathly hue, and realized that Alan knew her better
than Chris ever would. Alan made her feel more like a woman, more
like a person than Chris ever could. And it was there, alone in bed
with her husband, that she realized she had fallen in love with
someone else.
Or maybe she had fallen out of love and Alan was simply around. When
she thought of it, she realized she really didn't know him very well
at all. He rarely spoke and then almost never about himself. That
may have been what she loved most about him. He was a tall, dark,
mysterious stranger who listened to her and treated her like a lady.
That night she dreamed of him.
Night after night, she continued to dream of him. The dresses she
wore to her sittings were the most suggestive in her wardrobe. The
care she took with her appearance was unequaled even when Chris had
been courting her back when he actually knew how to excite her. Yet
the sessions remained as they always had. That weekend, she went out
and purchased the most revealing, suggestive dress the town had to
offer. Though Alan's eyes sparkled when he saw her in it, he did not
vary the routine in the slightest.
It had been so long since she had played the game of seduction that
she wondered if maybe she had forgotten how.
***
"Can I see your drawing?" Faith asked.
"I'd rather you not." Alan replied.
Faith frowned. "Please? After all this time I've never seen your
drawing. I'd like to know how you see me."
Alan blushed deeply at that, and Faith's heart fluttered.
"Really, my drawing is very personal. I'm the only one who will ever
see it."
"I've spent weeks telling you my hopes and dreams and desires," Faith
said forcefully. "What can you draw that's any more personal than
that?"
Alan frowned as he considered his answer. "I've drawn you the way I
see you, the way you tell me you'd like to be. But it's the way I see
you, not the way you see yourself. If I show it to you and you take
offense, you might stop sitting for me, and I wouldn't like to chance
that."
"If you don't show me, I will stop sitting for you," Faith said
heatedly, without thought, then immediately bit her lip as she
realized what she had just said.
The air was heavy with the moment as Alan considered her. His eyes
fell to his tablet and then back to her, though never meeting her
gaze. Faith's heart fluttered and it was all she could do to muster
an air of calm and defiance to back up her bluff. She refused to let
herself think what would happen if he refused.
Alan sighed and held out the tablet for her.
Faith snapped it up eagerly and then quickly stared at the contents.
A sharp intake of breath betrayed her surprise at the image before
her.
It was her, but it was an idealized perfection of her. It was Faith
with the perfect nose, the perfect cheekbones, the flawless
complexion, and well groomed hair. It was the Faith she always
dreamed of being. And she was nude. Gloriously, erotically nude in a
pose that made her seem ready to pounce off the page and onto a man's
lap. The intimate details were off, but considering that he had never
seen her this way, it was remarkable how many things he had gotten
right.
"I've drawn you the way I see you," echoed through her mind as she
stared at the breathtaking woman on the page. All this time spent
trying to get him to notice her, to make a move so she could encourage
him on further, and he had taken all her efforts and put them into
this creation. In awe of his vision of her, she looked up and saw him
studying her intently with worried creases etched in his forehead.
"It's beautiful," she said as she handed the pad back to him.
"It's the way I see you," he repeated simply, though with a note of
profound relief quivering in his voice.
For a moment, Faith almost smiled at the absurdity of it all. Before
she had met him, Alan had been a mover and shaker in the world, a
giant among men; yet before her was a shy, polite man who worried
about offending a nobody like her. For the first time since she had
met him, Faith finally realized that maybe she had learned something
about the man who had captured her imaginations and dreams.
Impulsively she reached for her strap, and with slow, gentle care
released it. The tight, revealing gown fell away. Hesitantly, her
eyes rose to meet his electrified gaze, even as she released the
second strap, letting the dress fall around her waist. His eyes and
the anticipation on his face urged her on, and after a few seconds of
fumbling, she let her bra fall beside her.
Over and over, she silently reminded herself that compared to what she
had told this man, being naked in front of him would be a trivial
thing. She stood and let the last of her clothing fall free. For a
moment she basked in his approving gaze, and then tried to assume the
pose he had drawn, but only ended up laughing at the absurdity of it.
On paper, the pose seemed so easy and effortless; in reality it was
silly and not something she could keep up for more than a few seconds.
"Why don't you start a new page." Faith suggested, as she reclined in
the lounge, assuming a pose she hoped would be inviting and evocative.
Alan turned to a new page and began to draw.
"Why didn't you just ask me to pose nude?" Faith asked.
"I wasn't sure you would," Alan answered as he drew a long curvy line
that outlined her luxuriant form. "When I write, I impose my will on
the characters, but that makes them just a reflection of me. You're
modeling a character as much as what I draw, so these sessions are
always about you, never what I want you to do."
"And what would you want me to do?" Faith asked.
Alan's only answer to blush and bury himself in his drawing.
"Have other women posed for you nude like this?" Faith asked,
changing the subject.
Alan nodded. "I've had twelve models in the last five years. None of
them ever shared themselves with me the way you did. I'd ask them to
talk, but most of them would just remove their gowns and sit. If
they talked it was about nothing at all. I think the ones who posed
nude simply thought it was expected. That's why I look for people who
haven't modeled before. I kept hoping to find someone like you,
someone who would let me into their life a little."
Faith smiled at that, and seeing her, Alan met her gaze and answered
her with one of his own.
A silence descended before Alan prodded her. "I love that you will
pose nude for me, but I love even more your talks. Please..."
Faith swallowed, and for the first time since she removed her
clothing, she felt truly naked and exposed. She knew what she wanted
to say, but for the first time she felt that maybe there were limits
to what she could tell Alan. Some things he would just have to
discover for himself.
And so, as he drew, she talked, but not about what was really on her
mind.
***
It started with Tonya Elders, who had noticed Faith's absence at the
almost mandatory gatherings. It did not seem right to her, in a town
where everybody knew what everybody else was doing, that Faith should
be any exception to that rule. In another age and another setting,
Tonya would have been a detective's detective. It took only a little
digging to discover that Faith was sneaking off after school and
disappearing into that perverted author's home, where she lingered for
several hours before scurrying home to play the dutiful wife.
For the briefest of moments, Tonya considered keeping her discovery to
herself. Alan, after all, was not an unattractive man, and over the
past few weeks she had actually been reading his current bestseller.
It was pornography of course, but such beautiful pornography. Alan
had been the first man in twenty years to inspire her to orgasm.
Tonya actually sympathized with Faith. If she had been a few years
younger, she might have kept the ad to herself. It might have been
her posing for that man instead of Faith. It might have been with her
that Alan did all those disgusting things he wrote about in his books,
and the mere thought of that sent another electric tingle up her
spine.
Yet it was only for the briefest of moments. Faith was not only
married; she was a teacher, of children. When the town discovered
that someone entrusted with their children was posing for a
pornographer, the uproar would be heard around the nation, if not the
world. Tonya was almost giddy at the thought of the chaos it could
cause.
As Faith reclined in the chair, with Alan idealizing the gloriously
nude woman before him, Tonya plotted how best to break the news.
***
"This can't be me," Faith said, as she stared at the picture.
"It is," Alan assured her.
"It's how you see me, yada yada yada," Faith said mockingly. "Don't
give me that. No man alive could resist the woman you've drawn. I
can't resist her, and it's not even a guy!"
"You're married." Alan said, frustration and disappointment welling
in his throat.
"On paper. Haven't you been listening to what I've been saying all
this time?"
Thunder rolled in the distance as they stared at each other. The
electricity in the air adding to the electricity of the moment.
- ---
Lightning lit the sky a cobalt blue as the women sipped their tea and
discussed the gossip of the day.
Tonya raised her voice slightly to be heard clearly above the din, as
she asked, "Has anybody else wondered where Faith Roberts has been
spending her afternoons lately?"
The quiet which filled the room, save for the distant rolling thunder,
said louder than words ever could that more than a few of them had
been wondering exactly that.
With dancing eyes, glorying in the attention, Tonya leaned forward and
spoke to her captive audience.
- ---
Alan leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. He knew she
wouldn't reject him, he had known for weeks, really. He knew Faith
better than he had ever known a woman, even those who had nominally
been his lovers. He had known her marriage was dead, as surely as he
had known he felt this attraction to her, an attraction that had only
grown since that first meeting.
If she had not been such a remarkable character study, he might have
propositioned her. If he had not felt how seriously she would take an
affair between them, he might have been more forward. He knew her too
well to toy with her affections. He could not simply sate the lust
she had instilled in him and move on. He couldn't have done this in a
city of millions, where the moving on was a simple thing, let alone in
this small town where relationships were magnified to the extremes.
He knew she wouldn't reject him, but he was never-the-less surprised
at how quickly she accepted his kiss, melting into his arms as her
lips parted for him, and the first warm drops of summer rain began to
fall.
- ---
"Faith and Alan?"
Again and again the question was asked in disbelief. No one in the
room could quite allow themselves to believe that the quiet, reserved
school teacher had allowed herself to fall in with that pornographer.
But they believed it without demanding proof, because it was so
deliciously scandalous.
"Who would have ever thought?" That was the question as they reveled
in the excitement of the moment.
Overhead, a sharp crack of thunder heralded the full fury of the
storm.
- ---
Alan began to tear at his clothing as his tongue danced with Faith's.
He fumbled with the buttons, and felt her hands tearing at them as
well; she was impatient as him to remove the only barrier that
separated them.
The clothing discarded, Alan stepped back, pulling Faith with him. No
sooner had he sat in the chair, than Faith straddled him, her sex
pressing against his, her nipples pressed to his, as once again she
sought out the kiss. They writhed against each other, reveling in the
feel of flesh against flesh, relishing the touch of the other, the
heat of their passion, the scent of the other.
Faith pulled back, and lifting herself slightly, she guided him into
her, lowering herself slowly onto him. She loved the feel of him in
her hands, the texture of fleshy soft over hard, the way it seemed so
alive in the way it throbbed and twitched in her palms.
Alan grunted as she guided the tip of his glans within her, feeling
the hot, slick walls wrap themselves around him. Though Faith was
being teasingly slow, she betrayed herself as her quick, fast
contractions tried to pull him in deeper, faster.
And then there was no deeper, and as the rain began to drench them,
they gazed upon one another for a moment before the demands of their
lust required an answer.
The warm rain pounded them, overloading already overloaded senses.
Rainwater dripped from Faith's nipples as she rocked above him, then
fell onto Alan's chest, and from there merged into a miniature river
that flowed down his chest and stomach, through the forest of his
pubic hair tangled with Faith's, and finally joined with the juices of
their lovemaking.
Faith threw back her head and let the rain pound on her neck, as she
raised and lowered herself over Alan's writhing body. She opened her
mouth to drink in the pure warm water, even as she drank in the
ecstasy of his palms as they rubbed against her hard button-like
nipples, his fingers pressing into and kneading the hot fleshy bounty.
Thunder boomed overhead and lightning flashed so bright that for a
moment it blinded and deafened them both, so that the only thing that
existed was their touch, their ecstasy, their joy -- the feel of him
within her, the feel of her around him.
As the powerful wind raced through Faith's hair, sending it rippling
like a flag in all it's fullest glory, Faith gave a sharp intake of
breath and a look of intense concentration filled her face as she
tightened around him, letting herself be carried by the orgasm as the
leaves were carried by the wind.
Feeling the intensity of her orgasm around him, Alan, already close to
the precipice, yielded finally to the unceasing demands of his senses.
Like a wildfire, his nerves exploded one by one by one, spreading
outward until there was only pure, uncontested completion as he thrust
again and again, sending his hot seed deep within the fertile womb of
his lover.
In the distance a ray of light broke through a small opening in the
storm.
***
Chris was waiting for her when she returned home. Her lovemaking with
Alan had started late, and she had lingered long as they cuddled and
played with each other while her clothes dried. Chris had been the
very last thing on her mind until she opened the door, and saw him
sitting there. Seven years of routine told her with a single glance
that he was disturbed about something more than her being late.
And he was.
The news had spread like plague through the small town. Woman told
woman, wife told husband, husband told friend, until finally the news
had reached him. He didn't believe it at first, no more than he
believed most of the outrageous gossip that sometimes struck the
town's fancy, but he left work early anyway. When he returned to an
empty house, he finally allowed himself to start believing the rumor.
He had sat in the dark gloom of the kitchen for two hours, waiting for
her to return. His thoughts were a jumble of self-pity, murderous
rage, and fear. Fear because he still loved her after a fashion. Not
as intensely as the start to be sure, but she was comfortable. He
always knew, or thought he knew, where he stood with her. It always
seemed that she was the foundation he had built his life on.
Fear also, because he had no moral high ground if the rumors were
true. Three months ago, Jean Coswell had walked into the store in a
short skirt and a tight blouse that left little to the imagination.
He had flirted with her for the fun of it, and she had flirted back.
It pleased him to know that he still had that old magic touch. He had
talked her into going to a nearby hotel run by Stu Peterson, who
handed him a key with a wink and a nod that ensured that even in this
small town no word would reach the ears of another. Then he talked
her out of the blouse, and the skirt, and found, much to his pleasant
surprise, that his imagination wasn't nearly as good as the real
thing. She had been a great fuck, and over the course of a week he
discovered that she really liked doing things he had always been too
afraid to ask Faith to try.
He recalled, with bitter irony, thinking what a lucky son of a bitch
Jean's husband was, as he had worked his way up her tight asshole,
with her moans echoing off the bare motel walls. Did that
pornographer think the same thing?
Moral high ground or not, it didn't lessen the intensity of his
emotions now. Even if this were a tit-for-tat affair, she had no
damned right to cheat on him, and even less to get caught doing it.
Christ, he'd be the laughing stock of the whole town! It would have
been bad enough with a native, but to shack up with the
Johnny-come-lately sleezeball who was already the topic of everyone's
scorn and ridicule was unbearable! He knew exactly what people would
say, because he knew exactly what he'd be saying if it had been
somebody else's wife who'd been boinging the perverted bastard.
He looked up slowly with cold gray eyes, and met her questioning gaze.
Hard lines formed on his face, as he said bitterly, "I didn't expect
you to come back."
His expression and tone said it all. Someway, somehow he had known.
It took only a moment for her to say what she would have said sooner
or later anyway. She could not live in a lie, any more than she could
have remained in this loveless marriage.
"I only came back for a few things. I'll be gone in a few minutes."
Her reply left him so stunned that his mouth could only open and fall
silently as he watched her march determinedly toward the bedroom.
When he finally followed her, she was throwing things into a suitcase,
taking no particular care in the packing.
"Why, Faith?"
"Because you haven't made love to me in a month. Because you haven't
taken me out on a date for a year. I'm someone who cooks and cleans
and keeps the house, but you'd be just as well off with a maid." She
turned to him and brought the full force of her gaze down upon him.
"Because I want more from life than what I'm getting, and I finally
got a taste of what I've been missing, Chris. You only get one
go-round in this life, and there are no second chances. This may be a
mistake, but if I don't follow where this leads, then I'm gonna spend
the rest of my life wondering what might have been."
She surveyed the discordant contents of the suitcase before giving up
on doing an inventory. If she were missing anything, she'd get it
later or buy it. She slammed the lid down and locked the latches
securely, before lugging the case over to the door.
"Are you going to let me by?" she asked.
Her voice was a challenge, demanding him to turn this into a fight.
It would be horrible if it happened, they knew each other well enough
to know which buttons to push. It would be ugly and terrible, but
she'd win. Eventually she would be out the door and to the car,
because she knew exactly what she didn't want, and that was living in
a routine the rest of her life as the world which had once seemed so
large grew ever smaller.
For a moment, Chris remained motionless, indecision clouding his
thoughts. He had never been a fast thinker, and this was happening
too hard and fast for him to really get a grip on things. But he knew
that tone. That tone said he'd lost before he'd even started.
Yielding to routine, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he stepped
back, allowing her to pass.
***
Faith sat on the bed in the motel room, hugging her legs and worrying
about tomorrow. The extreme emotional highs and lows of the day had
left her exhausted, confused, and afraid. She had almost returned to
Alan after she had left, but it would be such a cliche to arrive at
his doorstep, suitcase in hand, a sobbing woman, all alone in the
world because her husband had kicked her out. She was also afraid
that the woman who appeared on Alan's doorstep might drive him away.
So she checked into the motel, and since she wasn't a part of the
"good ol' boy's network," Stu Peterson did not hand her the key to the
room with a wink and a nod. As soon as she had left the lobby, he
mentioned the new guest to his wife, who promptly called Tonya with
the news. By the time Faith had given up any hope of falling asleep,
and instead resigned herself to futile what-ifs, half the town knew
she'd be sleeping alone tonight.
***
Principal Elders was not in a good mood that morning. He had spent
all evening listening to his wife tell him of the absolutely dreadful
things that Roberts woman had been doing with that pornographer. He
knew his wife well enough to know there was a kernel of truth behind
the speculation, and he knew the town well enough to know that they'd
just as soon take wild, rampant speculation as gospel over the truth.
If the two happened to coincide, so much the better. If they didn't,
the rumors would eventually fade away, and people would pretend that
nothing had ever been said. But for now, the rumors were flying, and
since Faith was a teacher, all eyes would eventually turn to the
school board, and the school board's eyes would turn on him.
Some days he disliked his wife more than others, and this was
definitely going to be one of those days.
"Well, if Chris heard it, it's a sure bet the rest of the town heard
it as well." Faith said in a resigned voice as she took a seat across
from him.
"You know it's like living in a glass house." Principal Elder
apologized.
"So, did you want the juicy details from the source, or was there
another reason you asked to see me, John?" Faith asked, more harshly
than she had intended.
She knew the day would be a bad one, but she had no idea how bad. It
had started when she discovered she had not packed any toothpaste. It
only got worse when she got to school and felt the silent stares of
the other teachers, and even some of the students! Those stares were
a thousand times worse than words -- there was no way to argue with or
defend against a person's unspoken thoughts.
John coughed nervously. "Faith, you're a great teacher. The best,
most reliable I've got on staff..."
"But... Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God, don't say what I think
you're going to say." Faith thought furiously, as her world threatened
to collapse around her.
"...but these rumors are going to interfere with your ability to do
your job."
John started speaking of the need for discipline and respect of the
students, with rambling stray thoughts of the pressure the community
could bring on the school board. Faith hardly heard him as she tried
to come to grips with losing her husband and her job both in less than
twenty-four hours.
"So we'll put you on paid leave until the school board takes up the
issue. After that I can't say..."
Faith, numb to it all, merely nodded meekly. She didn't even know if
Principal Elder had dismissed her, as she rose and headed out of his
office. At that point, she really didn't care.
***
After such an experience, the small, boxy motel room -- dank with the
smell of stale, humid smoke and the faint, unmistakable aroma of old,
cheap beer and even cheaper sex -- added insult to injury. She endured
it because it was the only place right now she could call her own
while she tried to work through her thoughts.
"At least I didn't drag any children into this mess," she thought
mockingly.
Not that she and Chris hadn't tried of course, especially at the
beginning, when the marriage was still strong and they were eager to
face the world together. After a few months, they started making
jokes about all those dire warnings against unplanned pregnancies.
They were just like everyone else after all, and if they had so much
trouble getting preggers, then it simply couldn't be as easy as
everyone went on about.
After a year, they finally admitted that something was wrong, and went
to see Doc Collins. He put them through their paces and took a sperm
sample from Chris, and sent it off to a lab to be analyzed. A week
later, they got the word that Chris was shooting blanks, though Doc
Collins put it in fancy, polite language meant to soften the blow. At
the time, Chris seemed to take it well enough, but it was only later
that she realized that was when he seemed to have drifted away from
her.
During the first year, she used to wake up to find Chris buried in
her, slowly rocking in and out, just touching her, enjoying being
inside her. He'd sneak up behind her in the kitchen, hike up her
skirt and pull down her panties in one seemingly magical stroke and
bend her over the kitchen table, which always seemed to be the most
perfect height for impromptu lovemaking.
After they had learned the test results though, the impromptu
lovemaking became less and less frequent, until it eventually tapered
to nothing. More and more, Faith discovered that if she wanted sex,
she would be the one who would have to make the first move.
They had discussed adoption of course, and Chris was standoffish
enough that Faith dropped the issue. She thought that with time he
would change his mind, but he never did. She never brought up the
subject of artificial insemination from a donor after seeing the look
of revulsion on her husband's face when Doc Collins explained that
particular option.
After years of wishing and hoping for children, Faith found bitter
irony in feeling grateful that they had never gotten what they wished
for. She shuddered at the image of herself in this small, cramped
room with a child, or maybe two, asking questions that even now she
didn't know the answer to.
In a few hours, it would be time for her sitting with Alan, and she
discovered that fact provided little comfort. Beyond the physical
attraction, and a love for the way she could talk freely with him, she
found that she did not know him well enough to say how he would take
this development.
Would he turn her away, having sated his lust, having no further need
of her? Would he take her in out of a sense of obligation, and then
resent her intrusion into his life? Was there really something
between them beyond the wonderful sex they had shared?
Her thoughts traced this circle of questions over and over again,
until out of sheer desperation to extract herself from the pointless
rut, she pondered another question entirely, and in that intuitive
leap she found the answers she so desperately needed.
***
She wore the red sundress, the one with the plunging neckline and the
pretty sash above the very, very short skirt. Together with the
effects of the high-heeled shoes, the dress made her feel like a
sexual creature. When she had tried it on at the store, she had
blushed furiously as she saw the effect it had on her in the mirror.
She giggled as she thrust out her chest, trying to live up to the
bombshell image the dress wanted to create. Bit by bit, the giggles
had faded though, as she realized that maybe she really could live up
to the image the dress portrayed. A simple gold necklace completed the
illusion. She painted her lips a deep, luxuriant red, and added a
light blush to her cheeks. Even in the unforgiving light of the hotel
room, she had to admire the results as she studied herself in the
mirror.
She paused as she reached for the door, and found her hands twirling
her wedding rings. With a fond, bittersweet smile in honor of
remembrances past, she tugged the rings free, and left them on the
nightstand by the bed.
***
Alan's introduction to the effectiveness of the small town
communication network came as he was buying a few groceries at the
general store, and Hap Farther, who was pricing his goods, leaned over
and said in a low conspiratorial voice, "Faith's a good one all right.
If I were a few decades younger, I might have made a play for her
myself, if I'd known she fooled around."
The shock on Alan's face was so comical that Hap laughed loud enough
to draw the stare of Bernice Dawson. She noticed the company Hap was
keeping, quickly averted her gaze, and pretended there was an item she
was interested in a bit closer to the checkout counter, and a bit
closer to being within earshot.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Alan said dryly, as he tried
to regain his composure.
"Oh hogwash. The whole town knows she's been sneaking off after
school, and slipping into your place. Tain't nothin' wrong with it,
man. Like I say, if I were a few decades younger, she'd be on my
shopping list."
"The whole town?" Alan's face was as white as a sheet.
Hap nodded sternly. "Small town, ya know. Somebody saw somethin'
they shouldn'ta, and mentioned it to someone, who mentioned it to
someone. Don't take too many someone's in a town like this for
everyone to know. Hear she slept alone in a motel last night though,
can't quite figure that one out past Chris booted her out. I figured
she'd at least run over to you."
"Unless the rumors were wrong." Alan said bitterly, trying
desperately to gain the upper hand.
"Mayhap. It's happened before, but once the rumor's out of the hat,
it's kinda hard to stuff it back in, if ya know what I mean and all."
"Yea, I know what you mean." Alan said dejectedly, as he handed over
a twenty to the old clerk.
As soon as he got home, he dialed Faith's number, but got no answer.
He finally got the nerve to call the school, and was told bluntly that
she had taken a leave of absence. He dialed information and got a
list of twenty area motels, but gave up after the first, when it
became obvious, small town gossip or no, that even if Faith were
staying there, the clerks weren't about to tell him so.
It never occurred to him that the small town communication network
could have told him the name of the hotel, the room she was in, and
probably her phone number. And so he sat, and thought, and worried,
and wished he could be with her, hold her, comfort her.
***
She arrived at his house promptly at four, as she had since it had all
started. His joy and relief at seeing her was such that he swept her
into his arms, lifting her feet off the ground, and hugged her hard
and deep and long.
"I was so worried!" he exclaimed as he set her down.
Faith smiled warmly as she answered. "So was I for a while. I see
you've heard about us."
"I always heard about these small towns, but it's one thing to hear
and quite another to experience. You didn't have to stay in a hotel
room last night. I would have loved for you to have slept here."
Alan stared at the carpet awkwardly as he shuffled his feet. "I'd
like for you to stay quite a while in fact." Slowly he raised his
eyes, taking in her enigmatic face. "Maybe forever?"
Faith took his hand in hers and smiled beatifically. "You don't know
how happy that makes me Alan. To know that no matter how badly things
might seem, there's someone who's there for me. That's a great
comfort. But I needed the time alone. It allowed me to realize I
wasn't running away from my husband so much as I was running away from
my life. I married Chris as soon as I graduated from high school.
For eighteen years, I lived under my parents' wings, and then for the
next seven, I lived under Chris' wings.
"As much as I'd really like to get to know you better, it's time for
me to find out who Faith Roberts really is. I've got my teaching
certificate, and I can earn my keep anywhere in the state, probably
somewhere where I can start worrying about me instead of worrying
about what everyone thinks about me. In the heat of the moment last
night, I told Chris you only get one shot at life. I was right about
that. It's time to start making the shot count."
"You came to say goodbye?" Alan asked, crestfallen.
Faith nodded slowly, biting her lip in sympathy with the pain etched
on her lover's face.
"That's it, then? One perfect afternoon of pleasure, and it's
goodbye?"
"Alan, it's not you. Really."
Alan stepped forward until they were just barely touching, until he
could feel her breath on his face.
"And you dressed this way to remind me of what I'm losing?" The
pleading in his voice was tinged with the barest hint of anger.
"I-I wanted you to remember me fondly." Faith stammered, confused at
seeing a side of him she never dreamed existed. This Alan seemed
stronger, more commanding than the man she had made love with just
hours ago.
"Well, maybe I want you to remember me fondly as well," he said as he
reached around her and pulled her close to him. "No. I don't want
you to remember me, I want you to be with me."
She gasped as she felt his hand on her bottom, firmly pressing against
her fleshy curves, fingers pressing into the creases and folds,
working their way ever downward slowly enough for a tingle of
anticipation to course through her.
This was not how she had pictured this meeting at all. She had
thought that through her designs she had convinced Alan to have a
fling with her, but this was not a man who had just been told the
fling was over. This was a man who was doing everything in his power
to tell her how much he needed her, and as his fingers pried their way
between her legs, she responded to that power, and the passion with
which it was conveyed.
She inhaled sharply as his hot palm pressed against her sweet,
sensitive inner thigh, squeezing softly as he caressed her.
Involuntarily, she parted her legs ever so slightly, enough for his
fingers to work their way under her panties and dip into her wet
vagina.
Confused, she raised her gaze, and found him staring back at her,
studying her with an expression which brooked no argument while at the
same time speaking of great need, passion and love. Her knees grew
weak as his fingers sent a particularly strong wave of pleasure
through her. She just barely caught her balance in time to stop
herself from falling into him.
The words "No" and "Stop" sprang to her mind. This wasn't what she
wanted or needed, but looking into his face, she was afraid that if
she uttered one of those words he might not heed her. At the same
time, the feel of his palm on her leg and his fingers pressing inside
her, weakened her resolve still further.
How long had it been since a man had taken her simply because he found
her desirable?
Too long. Far, far too long.
There was also a freedom to be found in being loved.
She bowed her head and surrendered herself to him. She trusted that
behind this commanding presence was the same man who had held her
tenderly in his arms the day before and whispered sweet nothings in
her ear as his fingers traced the outline of her breasts.
When he sensed the change in her, Alan paused ever-so-briefly and
considered how unlike him this was. But only for the briefest
moments, before some deep part of him reasserted itself, taking
pleasure in the high of this power trip. He smiled confidently, and
scooped her up in his arms. He was not a large, powerful man, nor she
a light pixie, but he did not feel her weight as he carried her to the
bedroom.
Faith was almost tempted to smile at this display of bravado, but
none-the-less found she liked the feeling of being in his arms, and
the determined seriousness of his expression. So she let herself get
caught up in the moment, and snuggled her head into his shoulder as he
carried her.
He set her down gently beside the bed, and with a single, perfect
gesture, freed the dress, allowing it to flutter to the floor around
her feet. With equal ease, he removed her bra and cast it aside.
She reached for the buttons of his shirt, but he caught her wrist, and
his amused expression was all it took for her to know that this was
still very much his show.
Releasing her wrist, he fell to his knees and hooked his fingers under
her panties. As he dragged them down her legs, he playfully ran his
tongue through her labia lips, stroking tenderly up one side and down
another. He extended his tongue fully and pressed it into her,
swirling it around the rim before dragging it up slowly to suckle her
aroused clitoris.
Faith groaned with pleasure, but as she rested her hands on his head,
he pulled back and stood up. He guided her onto the bed, and
satisfied with her comfort, he moved down and lifted her foot off the
mattress. She gazed at him curiously, wondering what he was doing,
when he took her big toe into his mouth.
She giggled at the absurdity of it, but her laughter faded as she
discovered the pleasure of his tongue as it worked its way between her
toes. That tongue, that marvelous, wet, soft, firm, dexterous tongue,
then began to work its way up her inner leg, moving lazily along a
meandering path. Anticipation filled her as he traced along her
calves. Tingles of pleasure shot through her as he worked his way
slowly, ever so teasingly, up her thigh. He lingered for an eternity
at that sweet, tender spot at the very top of her thigh, so
tantalizingly close to where she wanted that tongue to be, but so very
wonderful where it was.
Finally he relented, and began to stroke her crimson lips. After so
much anticipation, she was in ecstasy from the moment his tongue
pressed into her. She could feel herself clench around it, and if
there was disappointment that it was not his penis, it was muted by
the fact that it was doing things to her that the real thing never
could. It was muted by the feel of his palms pressing against her
thighs as he kept her legs parted, the feel of his fingers pressing
into her flesh.
She groaned loudly, and ran her hands through his hair. He did not
pull away this time, but instead shifted his attentions higher,
sucking her clitoris between his lips, grinding his lips around it,
letting his tongue dance over the tip.
Faster he stroked, harder he sucked, unceasing in his attentions and
devotions, until all the little pleasures joined together in an
explosion of mind-shattering intensity. Faith screamed in her orgasm,
letting herself go with abandon as pleasure wracked her body and
coursed through her as powerfully and consuming as she had ever known
before. All the trials and tribulations of the past hours shattered
around this most perfect of all gifts.
The unforgiving pleasures of her orgasm faded to the feeling of Alan's
tongue still exploring her, though with less intensity as before.
He stood up and removed his clothing before lying down beside her.
Then he took his one of her breasts in his hand, caressing it softly
as he lowered his head and suckled at the other. Slowly, the gentle
descent from her last orgasm began to change direction, especially
when his hand drifted lazily down and began to finger her.
Between increasingly faster gasps, she began to suspect that he
planned to give her so many orgasms she would become addicted to him
and never leave. As her hips rose to meet his plunging fingers, she
toyed with the idea that as a rich, successful member of the leisure
class, he might very well be able to do this to her for the rest of
her life. When he ever so lightly bit into and tugged on her nipple,
and her second resounding orgasm coursed through her, she almost
wished he would…
Even then he was not done with her, as he knelt over her, guiding his
swollen penis to her still hungry vagina. She had not recovered from
the second orgasm when he began to slide in and out of her, filling
her, his swollen penis dragging along her still sensitive lips and
clitoris. The afterglow of her second orgasm crested almost
immediately into the third, which was a long lingering celebration of
their union.
***
It was dark outside when Faith woke. Alan had snuggled into her back,
with an arm draped over her and a hand just lightly resting on her
breast. His leg draped over hers at the ankle, and even after their
previous activities, an orgy of lust and sensuality such as she had
never known before, even after all that, she felt his sleepy, slowly
throbbing penis nestled just outside the crack of her buttocks.
There was so much about him that she didn't know. So much about him
that she wanted to know better. She had never met a bad man before,
the few she had known before settling down with Chris had all had
their charms and quirks. In a world of good men, though, Alan was by
far the best of them all.
If anyone could have convinced her to stay under someone's wing, it
would have been him. He had come so close last night. Hours of
promises of her happiness, not with words that fade the moment they
are uttered, but with action and deed that linger and fade only into a
soft fuzzy memory to be recalled fondly. Even his domineering man to
her submissive woman had been tuned only to her pleasures.
If she stayed, it wouldn't always be that way of course. But it would
be nice, of that she was sure. Maybe he would sneak up behind her
like Chris used to. Maybe she would wake up to find him within her as
she almost did just now. Maybe he would do things she had never
thought of, but would probably enjoy immensely. He did all the little
things that made sex so fun and worthwhile. No, it would be very,
very good to stay with him.
Slowly, being painstakingly careful so as not to wake him, she
untangled herself and slipped out of bed. In the dim light of a weak
moon through a dark, cloudy sky, she managed to find her panties,
still pungent from the day before. She considered a moment before
dropping them back to the floor. She'd heard some men liked panties;
maybe Alan would like them, maybe he wouldn't. But it was no great
sacrifice to make the offer.
Quietly she dressed and turned to leave. She paused at the door
though, before turning back. On tip-toe, and carrying her shoes, she
walked back over to the bed. She leaned over and lightly kissed Alan
on the cheek.
She had worn the red dress to give him something to remember, but this
parting would be better. For the rest of their lives, they would
remember the last two days with fondness. One day, after she had
discovered who Faith Roberts really was, she might give him a call,
and one day he might still be interested. One day.
Outside the house, Faith took in the dramatic sky, with moonbeams
slicing through the clouds, and stars peeking out from the blue-gray
opening. Chin held high, shoulders straight, and with a deep breath,
Faith took her first step as a free woman.
- -- BitBard
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