It has been about two weeks since I found out that my husband was having an affair with his secretary. Ever since then, it felt like I was walking around with my head in a fog—I could not concentrate at work, I could not pay attention to what people were saying to me and I could barely eat.
I know that my situation could not be more cliché than it is: a well-off husband and wife who seems so perfect from the outside and yet behind this façade, this couple could not be father apart from each other if they were in two different continents. Yet cliché or not, it was true. I remember when I was younger, before I got married; I used to smirk at stories like this. Never would I have thought that I would someday find myself as the leading lady in the exact tearjerker story that I was laughing at.
My friends told me to divorce him as soon as possible, but I now know that it is not that easy. Normally, when a woman’s husband cheats, all her friends would call him a scum-bag and then encourage her to walk. Yet no one ever talks about how a big part of the wife still has a hard time letting go, and how that part really want to work things out despite the affair. Of course, I could not tell this to my girlfriends who would surely react violently. It seems that the only person who could understand me was Brian.
Brian was one of my husband’s closest friends. Ever since I met my husband in college, Brian has always been there—frequently tagging along as we go to parties, watch concerts, and such. Back then, many people would ask me why I didn’t go for Brian instead, since he was obviously the better-looking one. In fact, I have to admit that even though my husband was cute, Brian was gorgeous. He was around 6 feet tall, with a long and lanky body—not the kind of lanky that you would associate with nerds those bigger guys would push around, but the kind of slenderness that you would see in cocky rock-stars who can pull off wearing tight leather pants. His complexion was that of light caramel and this was attractively emphasized by the dark clothes he was always wearing and his short black tumbling curls. In short, he had that perfect combination of a confident man and a sweet little boy.
At first, I had to admit that I did entertain a little crush on Brian when we first met, but this phase quickly passed. After all, I fell absolutely in love with my husband then and even Keanu Reeves would not have caught my eye under the condition I was in. Besides, Brian never showed any interest in me. If anything, I always suspected that he was somewhat irritated that I was taking up so much of his buddy’s time. However, over time, we began to treat each other as buddies as well. I became what you would call “one of the guys”. In fact, Brian probably forgets that I’m a girl sometimes, especially when he would start telling us about his sexual exploits—three-ways, 69 positions, sex toys, sex standing up, in the water, in the elevator and so on. My husband would just chuckle and drink his beer whenever Brian tells one of his “stories”, but I seriously had to work to keep the blood from flooding my cheeks. I grew up in a Catholic school for girls, and even though I have managed to enjoy sex and my sexuality, it always made me uncomfortable to hear about other people’s sexual escapades, especially those that are as colourful as Brian’s. Besides, me and my husband pretty much stuck to the missionary position. Instead of mind-blowing sex, I guess you could say that we preferred sweet and quiet sex.
This is why I was shocked to learn that he was having an affair with his secretary. Even though I wanted to blame it all on him, I could not help but regale myself with questions: Was I too boring in bed? Does he find me old and ugly? Did he have sexual demands that I refused to fulfil?
“You are not old, and you’re definitely not ugly. You’re a beautiful woman, Sylvia,” Brian assured me as we sat across each other on the kitchen table of the lavish house that I and my husband purchased two years ago, thinking that we were about to start a new happy life. Of course, the old-and-ugly bit was the only question that I ranted out loud to Brian. I looked at him as he said this assurance, expecting a robotic expression similar to what your best friend wears when you’ve gained three pounds and they say they don’t notice a thing. Besides, after five years of knowing Brian, I think I knew exactly what his type was. He liked the tall supermodel types with pouty lips and smouldering eyes. I was petite, had the breasts of a high school girl and had dainty feminine features. Even though I have been called pretty often enough, I knew I was a plain Jane standing next to any of Brian’s dates. This was why I was surprised to see him staring straight at me, his face serious and his beer in front of him untouched. He didn’t say a word but just kept staring at me. I noticed again how long and dark his eyelashes were. For some reason, I felt uncomfortable under his stare. I notice the drops of perspiration on the bottle of beer that was warming up, and I felt exactly like that bottle.
I sighed to cover up my discomfort. “Hey, drink your beer while it’s still cold,” I crossed my legs. “Do you think that I should tell John that I know?” I asked for what must have been the tenth time.
He sighed as well, leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “I don’t know, Sylvia, it’s really not my place to say. But I’m going to tell you one thing for sure. I’m going to talk to him about it, but I won’t let on that you know. Look, he’s my best friend and everything, but he’s an ass-hole for doing this to you…”
As Brian went on talking, I just nodded occasionally. Even though I could hear his words, I could not concentrate very much because of my confusion. When I learned about John’s affair about two weeks ago, I called Brian to meet him up and when he showed up I instantly started demanding if he knew about John’s affair, if he was hiding it from me too. He said he didn’t. I wanted to get angry some more, but I just started crying and he led me to his car where he let me tell him the whole story. Since then, we have been meeting every couple of days—to have coffee, a beer, a walk. It was like a new closeness has grown between us. Maybe he felt ashamed that his best friend can do such a horrible thing to me, and that he might make up for the affair by taking care of me. I realized that closeness was turning into a stronger tension as I looked at his smooth lips. After he was done talking, he raised his beer bottle to those lips and tossed his head back to take a swig. I could not help but notice the slenderness of his neck, the strong curve of his Adam’s apple and the striking angle of his jaw. I instantly looked away. What the hell was happening to me? I sat on this table with Brian many times before, with and without my husband.
“All I’m saying is you need more evidence that you can throw in his face. You can’t just walk up to him and say that he’s having an affair, he’ll deny it,” Brian continued.
I was still lost in my thoughts but this last statement caught my attention. “Evidence? What more evidence do I need? I saw the dirty text messages, I heard him sneaking in the middle of the night to call that bitch. I know he’s having an affair. What more evidence does he want?” My chest was heaving and blood was flooding my cheeks.
Brian was obviously surprised at my little outburst, because his big pretty eyes got even bigger. “Calm down, Sylvia. I’m just saying you should be prepared so you can corner him better.” He leaned forward again and looked at me. I felt my thigh muscles tightening. “Look, you don’t know how hard it is for a guy to say this, but I’m on your side here okay? I’m not saying I’m going to stop being John’s friend. I’m just saying he can’t keep doing this to you.”
I nodded. “His computer. I don’t know, maybe they also exchanged emails or something. Maybe I can look in there.”
“Okay, I’m going to help you. In his study, right? What time does John usually get home?”
“Six at the earliest. He’s probably going to call and say he has overtime again.” I said sarcastically.
“Okay. It’s only four. That gives us plenty of time. Let’s go.”
We both went into John’s study. The curtains were drawn so it was pretty dark. I went over to the desk and turned on the computer, and the light from the monitor screen illuminated us both. I was just about to sit in the chair when Brian suddenly put his hand on my arm. I almost jumped.
“I’ll do it. Just get me into his email. You know his password, right?” he said.
“Um, yeah,” I stammered, moving aside to let him sit in the chair. I was still reeling from the touch in my arm. After that episode in the kitchen of staring at him incessantly, his actual touch seemed surreal. He started typing on the keyboard as I awkwardly stood by his side. I didn’t know what to do. As if reading my mind, Brian looked up quickly at me then shifted in his chair. “Sit here,” he motioned at the armrest. John’s chair in his study was pretty big and the armrests were also thick so I had no problem squeezing my butt in the space. Now this position did not do anything for my earlier confusion in the kitchen. Sitting on that armchair, Brian’s arm would lightly brush my leg every time he types something. And as I was wearing a dress that ended just above my knees, I could feel the light hair on his arm on my bare skin.
“All right, put his password in,” he said, then leaned back on his chair to give me room to lean forward towards the keyboard. As I was typing in John’s password, I could feel his eyes on the side of my face. Because of the light from the computer screen, I probably had a halo around my head. Because I was leaning too much on my side, one of the straps of my sleeveless dress slipped down past my shoulder. I heard Brian inhale behind me as I slowly slipped the strap back up.
After I was done, Brian leaned forward again and started searching among John’s email. “If she did email him, I hope he didn’t erase anything right away.”
I almost forgot that we were there to look for emails that will prove John was having an affair, but at that moment, I honestly did not care. I was looking at Brian’s fingers typing on the keyboard. They were so unbelievably long, and without meaning to, I suddenly remembered all those sexual conquests that Brian used to tell John and me about—the many different women, the many different positions. I also remembered how Brian always had a couple of hot girls chasing him after he broke it off. I used to think he was a dog who did not give a damn about women after getting them to bed and that I was lucky for getting the good guy. Good guy, my ass. Goes to show what a mistake it is to choose the good guy over the guy who was good in bed. Wait, just how good was Brian in bed?
I felt myself blushing furiously and was thankful that the room was a bit dark. Even so, I could not let this thing get any farther. “Um, you know, maybe we can do this thing some other time.” I said.
Brian did not look away from the screen. “Why? Wait a second, there may be something here. You’re right, if we found an email from that girl, then he won’t be able to deny that he’s having an affair.”
I stood up from the chair’s armrest, and went to lean my back against the table so that I was right beside the computer and facing Brian. He was still staring intently at the screen and his sensuous lips were slightly parted in his concentration. I felt the muscles in my thighs—and groin—tightening once again. “Well, did you find anything?” I asked softly. I was beginning to feel restless. I just wanted for Brian to leave before I did something stupid. My heart was beating fast. I never experienced desire that was this physically charging—not even with John.
Brian shook his head. “Not yet. Maybe he hid them in one of the folders.”
I bent my head down to try and get a grip of myself. This is Brian for Pete’s sake! What the hell is wrong with me? My loose hair was covering my face and Brian must have thought that I was upset over the affair because he suddenly swivelled his chair towards me and held my hand. “Hey, are you okay?”
I felt electricity in my skin. I squeezed his hand back. I cannot believe that I was doing this. I pretended like I was on the verge of tears. “Can you just hold me for a second?” Oh god.
He quickly stood up and put his arms around me. Because he was so tall, I found my face buried in his hard chest, smelling his cologne and feeling his skin under his shirt. He was resting his chin on top of my head and gently stroking my back. Slowly, I lifted my face from his chest and looked up at him. He looked down at me and softly brushed away tangles of hair away from my face. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be fine. I’m going to make it better,” he whispered. We were both breathing hard by this point and I think we both knew what was bound to happen.
He kissed me first—hesitantly, to see if I would respond. When I did, he became bolder and I felt my heart beat even faster as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I was getting dizzy.
When he lifted me and sat me on the edge of the table, I nearly passed out. Our kissing started turning feverish. His hands were darting everywhere from my neck to my waist to my legs to my arms and to my face.
I was pulling the front of his shirt towards me. He had such strong lips that even kissing was sending shivers to my womb.
Our mouths parted to breath in air—I was panting. He then started kissing my neck as I sat there on the edge of the table. He was standing right between my parted legs and the close distance made me feel even more unsteady.
I wanted to reach to the front of his jeans and unzip it but I controlled myself.
I arched my head back and closed my eyes. He was doing a combination of kissing and licking against the side of my neck that was making me gasp.
John had never done that to me ever.
Flit-tingly, I remembered my husband who was having an affair. And now I was in his study, about to be fucked by his hot best friend.
However, all thoughts quickly ran out of my head as I felt Brian’s hand on the inside of my thigh. His long fingers that I was just earlier staring at were now travelling towards my vagina.
I wanted to inch forward on the table but I restrained myself. He went on kissing my neck as he did this and I could barely open my eyes from all the pleasure I was feeling.
Soon, his hand was touching my panties at the crotch.
The earlier tension that was building up between us had made me wet and even soaked my underwear. When he felt this, he got even more excited. He then grabbed my hair, pulled my head back and started kissing my mouth again.
Then, he pulled my panties down roughly with his two hands, slid them past my knees, my ankles … until they fell to the floor. Now that I was wearing nothing under my dress, his hand returned to that spot between my legs. I put my arms around his neck.
“Oh god, Brian,” I gasped. It was like I was drowning and I was holding on to him for dear life. I bit him on the shoulder, sinking my teeth in deeper as he inserted his long finger inside me. While he was fingering me, he started pulling down my dress to reveal my firm breasts under my lace bra. I slowly reached behind me to unhook it and then his mouth was immediately on my chest.
He inserted another finger inside me, and the pace of his hand was strong and steady. I felt my vaginal muscles tighten to hold his fingers in place. As I neared my climax, I also felt a slow scream rising up my throat.
After I orgasmed, I laid against Brian and was completely spent. That was when we both decided to go upstairs to the bedroom to look for more evidence of my husband’s affair.