Broken vows, p.1
Broken Vows, page 1
broken vows
BY
CHERI CRYSTAL
BROKEN VOWS
© 2013 By Cheri Crystal. All rights reserved.
THIS ELECTRONIC ORIGINAL SHORT STORY CONTAINS EROTIC CONTENT AND ADULT THEMES. READERS MUST BE OVER 18 TO PURCHASE.
PUBLISH DATE: 2nd Edition March 2013.
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. NAMES, CHARACTERS, PLACES, AND INCIDENTS ARE THE PRODUCT OF THE AUTHOR’S IMAGINATION OR ARE USED FICTITIOUSLY. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ACTUAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, BUISINESS ESTABLISHMENTS, EVENTS, OR LOCALES IS ENTIRELY COINCIDENTAL.
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GRAPHIC DESIGN: CHERI CRYSTAL
FIND CHERI CRYSTAL ON THE WEB AT www.chericrystal.com, facebook.com/chericrystal, and http://www.amazon.com/Cheri-Crystal/e/B002VG3738
My wife Sue and I shared a lucrative catering business and lived in a modest home in a trendy neighborhood. We had two great kids, a boy and a girl, and assorted pets. I made an honest woman out of the only girl I ever loved in a well-attended civil ceremony a couple of years back. Most everyone thought our life was ideal. And it was. Until she put our relationship on the back burner with the pilot light turned off.
I stood in the doorway unobserved while Sue bustled around our newly renovated, fully loaded kitchen that accommodated the demands of quantity food preparation. We took out a loan and spared no expense for the built-in Sub-Zero refrigerator, top-of-the line, double convection oven and range combo, heavy-duty dishwasher. We even splurged on dark wood custom cabinetry, expensive lighting and granite countertops. Laying the oak floor was a bit over-the-top, but I insisted she have it exactly as she wanted. Sue designed the floor plan, worked on the equipment specifications and was so at home in her kitchen, I called her Suzy Homemaker, for which I got a love slap every time I said it.
“Lauren, please come and help me secure this bow,” she shouted, clearly unaware that I was within earshot. I snuck up on her and rested my chin on her shoulder. Her body stiffened, hopefully surprised from an unexpected touch and not from disgust. I ignored the force of air through her pursed lips and was quick with a compliment rather than a confrontation. “The orchard garnish is a nice touch. It reminds me of a—”
“I know very well your preoccupation with a certain part of the female anatomy. You have a one-track mind.” Sue stepped back to admire her work, and I seized the opportunity to nibble on her ear. She wiped it away. Disheartened, I detected a hint of impatience and a touch of annoyance. I may have deserved it after I had committed the Cardinal sin, but I sure as hell didn’t before I sought solace in another woman’s arms. Up until then I was happily faithful to a fault.
Sue snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Lauren! Put your finger here.”
I was this close to yelling, “Take your damn PMS or perimenopause or whatever the hell your problem is somewhere else,” but I was not in the mood for a confrontation. I dismissed her moodiness with teasing instead. “I’d rather put my finger in your pussy.”
“You’re bad. Very, very bad.”
At least I got a smile out of her. We rarely talked about anything of substance lately. If it didn’t concern the kids or the business, then it didn’t concern Sue. In between food deliveries, I did odd jobs like painting, carpentry, minor repairs, that sort of stuff, for extra cash. It was easier to stay out of her way while she worked. I felt more like one of the kids getting underfoot or hanging onto her apron strings than her wife. I needed a strong drink to get the nasty taste out of my mouth. If we hadn’t any scotch left, I’d settle for a large vodka and cranberry juice. It was just a thought since I was working.
Sue poked me in the ribs with her elbow. “Come on!” God knows I was sick of being compliant, but like an obedient child, I placed my index finger on the ribbon and sighed. It never used to be this way between us. If questioned, she denied anything was wrong. Finally, I stopped asking. It wasn’t as if we fought, we didn’t, much. Sue had just distanced herself from me, and I took her every rebuff personally. Holding my lonely digit still, she tied a festive bow on a heaping platter of freshly-baked gourmet cookies, cream puffs and pastries. After helping Sue with tasks like this for more years than I could count, I withdrew my hand at the precise moment she secured the knot.
“Perfect. You can stop slobbering all over the cellophane now. I saved you a few white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies over there.” Sue indicated the stash with a subtle tilt of her head. Her dark bangs swept seductively over one eye before she moved it with the back of her wrist.
The first time I got lost in her deep brown eyes, they had twinkled as a small, shy smile started to curl up the outer contours of her lush lips. My salivary glands went into overdrive, which then woke up my taste buds. I was reduced to mush every time my girl baked some delectable treat. Sue knew me so well.
Now, a full-blown grin lit up her flushed, clear complexion and melted my heart. Nothing, not even tantalizing aromas, compared to the hormones, which turned me on at a mere glance of my girl.
Thankful that the kids had left for school, I pulled her in, praying for a leisurely smooch.
Sue backed up and removed her apron. “Sorry, sweetie. No time. We have to get this order over to Mrs. Drayman by twelve.” Her customary way of apologizing was to ‘sweetie’ me to death. I would have preferred a good fuck.
“I’ll make it quick,” I said, pouting.
She chuckled. “Hold that thought. And please take the entrees out of the fridge.”
I forgave her her quirks. Sue was my safe haven. My comfort zone was when she snuggled in the crook of my arm with her cheek nestled above my breast as we drifted off to sleep. Waking to her soft murmurs in the morning reminded me how truly lucky I was to have her in my life. Despite our dwindling sex life, I loved her with all my heart.
“It’s been so long, Sue. Please, play.”
“I’d love to play, but there’s work to be done. I hope we can pay off the kitchen before we need a new roof.”
“Lately, we act more like sisters than lovers.”
“That’s ridiculous. You know how demanding the kids are.”
“Yeah, but they’ll be gone someday, and where will that leave us?”
She patted my cheek. “With more time to play.”
“If I’m not in a rocker by then,” I grumbled. Sue brushed my lips in that sweet and gentle way that reminded me of our first kiss. I couldn’t argue with her when I felt this nostalgic longing for our simpler, carefree days. I’d not have changed our lives, but sometimes I missed when it was just us. The ungrateful thought brought me down. I pushed it aside. “Okay, later then, but I’m holding you to it.”
“We’ll see.” She may as well have said, no way. “Try not to be late with the deliveries.”
“And you try to have the kids in bed.”
“That’s not the problem, it’s keeping them there.”
“You think they have radar for when their moms want to have a special cuddle?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Then figure out a way to disarm it.”
She gave me a quick peck on the cheek. It became her way of dismissing me. Even briefly, I was reminded of how soft her lips were. I took her hand and kissed her palm. She didn’t pull away, which made me want her more. My needy, neglected clit was so ready, I feared it would stage a revolution at this rate. In fact, I was worried my pussy would close up shop permanently. I shuddered at the thought and repositioned my pants away from my crotch.
Had our relationship became a matter of convenience? Two people sharing a household as business partners? And more importantly, how did I let it happen? Things had changed with the birth of our children, and at first, I was proud when Sue became Super Mom—another title she wasn’t crazy about. As selfish as it sounds, I couldn’t help but feel left out. The mortgage, the mounting bills, our parents’ health crises, and the crappy economy with food costs skyrocketing and cutting into our profits further strained our day-to-day relationship.
Still, this was not justification for what I did.
The events leading up to that fateful day I cheated revved up my acid production, literally eating away the lining of my stomach. Drinking gastric irritants like coffee and alcohol to punish my transgressions further irritated it. I pulled our company van to the curb and cut the engine. Our moniker, Delectable Edibles, was scrawled above a portrait of a veritable feast that Sue and I had painted on both sides. Just remembering the hours spent designing the stencils and painting the van somewhat soothed me. With all the horsing around, it was a miracle we got the job done. Admiring our combined efforts made my heart swell with pride. We built something out of nothing. It also reminded me of how much I missed the ins and outs of her body, the scent of her lust, and the addicting taste of her skin. Now our sex life was history, and I hadn’t a clue how to fix it. I tried to entice Sue, and short of begging, she just wasn’t in the mood. Our latest argument haunted me.
“Sorry, Lauren. I’m too exhausted from standing on my feet all day and fighting with the kids to clean up their mess and to stop bickering. I’m sick of playing referee, and you don’t help by treating everything like a joke.” She sighed heavily. “Don’t get me started about their homework.”
“You can buy a stool, and you don’t have to do their homework.”
“Easy for you to say since you’re al
“That’s not fair. I do my share.”
“Your share consists of riling them up when I’ve finally calmed them down and never enforcing bedtime. And admit it, Lauren; you never follow through with any of the consequences we set for not obeying the rules. The only time they listen to me is when you’re not around.”
“Let’s not go there again.” Frustrated and feeling like a sex-starved maniac who had been accused of some heinous crime, I stormed out of the bedroom before spewing what was really on my mind, namely, how about I leave?
Here I was at my first stop, and I couldn’t say how I’d gotten there so quickly. Extinguishing all thoughts about our arguments, I simultaneously shut off the engine and my foul mood. With a deep breath in and out, I forced the tense muscles in my face to relax as I went around the back of the van to get out one of the platters. Although aware I’d just have to reopen it, I slammed the door shut with my hip. That’s how badly I needed to blow off steam.
I strode up the walk, rang the bell and waited, surveying the tree-lined sandstone paved landing of the colonial style mansion that housed Mrs. Carole Drayman and her senator husband, Douglas. I’d only seen the senator in photos. I wondered if the man lived there at all because his wife was a regular customer, and he was never home.
Not that I paid that much attention at first, but it was an understatement to say Mrs. Drayman was an attractive woman. Sue and I had no qualms about looking at other women; only touching was taboo. She would have agreed that the senator’s wife had a seductive smile, and more so because Mrs. Drayman seemed oblivious to her sex appeal. Add a hint of loneliness in her verdant eyes and someone like me couldn’t help but come to her rescue. At the time, I hadn’t imagined how her long blond hair would feel when released from the jeweled hair clip she wore on top of her head. Way too preoccupied with my own problems, none of these thoughts entered my subconscious then.
The heavy mahogany front door pulled in the beveled glass storm door as Mrs. Drayman swung it open. She should have expected me because it was six minutes shy of a delivery slated for noon. I was prompt and duly surprised she wasn’t dressed yet. The lounger she wore showed off every curve, including the outline of her hardened nipples. She was naked underneath the fabric and when she swirled around to let me in, I caught a hint of her long thighs through the slit of her robe. I cleared my throat and briefly looked away. I had no business watching her wiggle her fanny in front of my face, and well, I’m human after all. What a fine ass she had, too.
“Follow me, Lauren. Is it okay if I call you Lauren?”
Like I could say no. Her voice sounded sexy, as if she was getting over laryngitis. I tried to ignore my body and its blatant betrayal. I placed the dessert platter on the counter. “There’s more food in the van,” I said to keep my mind on the task. “I’ll be right back.”
“No rush,” she said, clasping my arm with her fiery-tipped painted fingernails. She was straight and married, both red flags, and her touch was as innocent as a teacher patting a student’s arm to boost good grades. Or so I thought.
I pulled away. The sudden movement forced her robe open, exposing a creamy white breast and a hint of nipple. My gaze darted away as she pulled her robe around her, totally unfazed by her exposure. Why would she be embarrassed? We’d both seen more naked flesh in locker rooms, right? I suppressed a whimper as my neglected libido cried out and my wilted ego begged to be fortified.
“Can you stay and help me set up for my luncheon? Please?” she asked without a trace of what her request did to me. Warm desire pooled in my pants. “Please?” she repeated, her moist red lips parted in a half smile.
What the fuck was I doing looking at her lips? I melted right there in her kitchen like the wicked witch after having water thrown in her face. I had to get out or go straight to hell. “Yes,” I managed, regretting it the moment the word escaped my lips.
“Great. I’ll preheat the oven while you bring in the feast.”
The tone she used to murmur feast had me hungering for human contact in a way that’s depicted in a salacious romance. This was totally unlike me to be turned on by a stranger with thoughts of committing the most unthinkable crime, by breaking my marriage vows. I hated the word adultery and never missed an opportunity to chastise those who followed that path.
At this point, I knew I should have just finished the job, handed her the bill and made a hasty get-away before I did something I’d regret. Mesmerized by her rapt attention, her damsel in distress demeanor, and the questionably unintentional seductress act, had my brain incapable of behaving like a married woman. Shit, she was married as well—and to a prominent citizen no less.
“I’ll help you put this in the oven, Mrs. Drayman, but I have more deliveries to make.”
“Please, call me Carole. My housekeeper is out sick. I really can’t manage it all on my own. I’ll double your fee.”
I gulped and fought to steady my stand. We needed the money, I rationalized. Trevor wanted designer sneakers and Allison wanted to add karate to her ballet, piano and gymnastics lessons.
“Here, let me take your jacket.” She helped herself when I didn’t move. The lingerie she wore was impossible to keep closed, and the thin material flowed with a miniscule amount of movement. I couldn’t stand it. My mouth was drier than after a night of too many Martinis.
“Can I get you a drink?” She read minds?
“Yes, please, water’s good,” I croaked. Before I could say more, she’d filled a glass with ice cold water from a cooler in the corner. I took a few hefty swallows.
“Has anyone ever told you that you have the most electric blue eyes?” she commented as a person might if she likes the outfit you’re wearing and just blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. Her eyes were equally as stunning, like liquid emeralds streaked with golden specs, the yellow reminiscent of predatory bobcat eyes. I was so out of my element and not at all used to being prey. Not that I thought she was after my booty, but more like she hungered for company.
“It’s true.”
I shot her a quizzical look.
“Your eyes…oh well, please help me get these trays in the oven, and I’ll write you a check.”
I rushed to set it all up for her.
“Thank you, Lauren. Here.” She handed me a check, and then retrieved a crisp hundred dollar bill from a drawer in the kitchen. It was awfully trusting of her to show me where she kept her spare change, I thought. “Oh, and I intend to give out your number with my highest praise. Last time all the ladies simply raved about Delectable Edibles.” She held out the money.
“What’s this for?” I gently pushed her hand away.
“A small token of my appreciation.”
“You’re business is appreciation enough.” I started for the door and stopped, only to be handed my jacket. “Good luck with your luncheon.” Relieved, I left and didn’t look back.
The school term ended in June. Sue had scheduled a vacation, so we could spend quality family time before the kids started day camp. Every minute was filled with activity. The week flew by with little room to think about Carole until we had to get back to work and I was on my way to her house for the second time because she started placing semi-weekly orders. Sue was thrilled with the added income, but I reluctantly delivered the goods without waiting for payment. I’d remind her the bill was in the mail. Carole went out of her way to engage me in idle chitchat, and I did my best to stop obsessing about her soft features, killer body, and how she seemed to have an endless supply of time to listen to my stories. She stoked my sex drive, but I didn’t know how to make her stop coming on to me without alienating our best customer and disappointing my wife, who counted on her business. Carole’s word of mouth was fantastic, and we worked feverishly to fill all the new orders. I delivered designer food to some of the wealthiest residents on Knob Hill and was thankful when the hired help answered their doors.
Lost in thought, someone honked as I pondered my plight. I hadn’t seen the light had turned green. Unable to dispel my misery, and feeling a bit let down to get back to the same old routine, I floored the gas pedal and flooded my brain with all sorts of woe is me. Let’s just throw me a pity party, but the truth is, I didn’t blame Sue for enjoying the extra cash to pay the bills on time. I did the household chores, preferring the mindless task of heavy cleaning, shopping for supplies, and left the finances in her capable hands. Accounting and attending the kids’ school meetings were not my specialty. I certainly didn’t begrudge Sue keeping busy, up to a point, but I started to object when she became the PTA president and had even less time and energy for me. I’m not ordinarily selfish, but let’s face it, hadn’t I given up enough? I started having serious doubts.
