Tuesday, 17 March 2009

Spite

Did he do it just to spite his wife?

Or to bolster his own self-esteem in the face of her apparent disinterest.

He had stood there all night, beer in hand, watching her cavort. Simulating sex as she danced with a toyboy and his girlfriend, her hand reaching for the young man's groin as his partner draped herself suggestively around his wife's breasts.

He could feel the anger and the arousal. He wanted to hit something or fuck someone. He wanted retaliation or redemption. He needed to feel good about himself again. To take away the crushing drudgery of the years of fighting to keep his job and make the mortgage payments, whilst simultaneously working to keep his marriage intact.

What had happened to the woman with whom he had enjoyed such sexual adventures. She was still gorgeous and clearly attracted to other men. She had not lost her libido with others but she needed these parties, these distractions, these foibles with other males to remind herself. And then, of course, he got the benefit. But he had to go through this first. His self-esteem dying inside him as others watched and wondered at his inactivity.

But what was the point of making a fuss. He'd done that before and spoilt a party. Felt the shame and the pity of his private life exposed to the glare of his friends' scrutiny. And it had done no good. She needed these encounters. And so she arranged more soirees and drank more vodka and behaved ever more sexually in front of his nose. Seemingly oblivious to his presence, or his anger.

But this time another woman was there. The long running object of his lust. Blonde where his wife was dark and interested in the things that he liked rather than dismissive of his hobbies. She knew what was going on and, like his other friends, tried to distract him. It was never a good combination. Her... and beer. Teri... and Stella. Two women guaranteed to challenge his reserve and make him vulnerable. Forcing him to forget his priorities and think only of his most basic needs.

There was unfinished business between them. She had gone away before. Stopped attending the same functions. It was too dangerous. They both knew it, but when he had told her about the party this evening, she had said she would come. With her renewed presence in his life, it was only a matter of time and consumption of alcohol before things got out of hand.

They wore the same cologne in its different genders but it did nothing to mask the pheromones that were calling to each other across the kitchen as he watched her sitting on the worktop. He had so many photographs of her in that room and had lost count of the number of times his imagination had pushed her over the sink, ripped aside whatever little outfit she was wearing and plunged into her.

The chemistry had started the very first day he had seen her several years ago and, both being married, they had fought it in their minds and with real fisticuffs. Sparring verbally and physically as they fought against closing the connection. But they were not always strong and, occasionally, life's vicissitudes made them cling to each other emotionally until the mutual attraction became impossible to ignore.

Diving in... and then out again. Regret bitter on his lips in the face of his infidelity and betrayal. The inward promise never to do it again, they hurt each other repeatedly as their bodies did the talking whilst their minds tried to do the right thing.

So, fuelled by the rejection of their real lives and a large quantity of brandy, the magnetism grew to all-consuming proportions. She made him feel attractive and wanted in a way he had quite forgotten. He yearned to be her protector and show her how beautiful she was.

From hidden glances, friendly caresses became openly tactile and on to blatant embraces. They forgot about the curious glances of any onlookers, responded to the frantic messages coursing from one body to another and lost their inhibitions in a world where only that person existed.

The party continuing to rage downstairs, they found themselves in a darkened bedroom and, with the drink-fuelled amnesia of the truly desperate, they forgot about the consequences in a melee of heaving breasts, throbbing desire and slippery nakedness, driven to consummation by the intensity of a lust that had spanned the majority of a decade.

And, as the pounding exploded in an agony of release through the darkness of those seconds that surround mutual fulfilment, there was nothing but completion. Until reality forced its way back and the ramifications of discovery ground into their elation.

Whatever his original reasons, Pandora's Box had been opened and the contents had begun to flood out.

Whether he wanted to or not, they could never be recaged.

6 comments:

southerngirl said...

Oh Cake. You have captured something raw and beautiful here. The emotional tug of war that is gone through when attraction occurs where it shouldn't or can't but finds a way to ignite anyway.

CHEF TROLL said...

Very well-written. Having this go on for a full decade was an especially inspired touch.

Chris said...

And had his wife born him as the object of her affections, his flirtations would have remained just that.

Very well written.

Cate said...

You have captured the thoughts and emotions beautifully, as always.

Cate xxx

Jackie Adshead said...

Lovely writing, as ever!

nitebyrd said...

Passion like that should never be denied.