Prelude: The Other Woman - Sex Stories

Prelude: The Other Woman

"I suppose you don't know who I am, but I know who you are." I begin and then pause. I don’t know where to begin. I take in a shaky breath while looking at the family picture that had been fished from his wallet. "You have beautiful children." I continue, still trying to gather the courage to state my revelation. "By the time you hear this from other people, the story of how things happened will be distorted. My lover, your husband, he is not the most loyal man." My voice and fingers tremble while opening the bottle of scotch. "Maybe I should begin right from the start.” I take a sip of the liquor letting the burn enter my stomach. “He was charming and sweet. I worked in the floor above him and we would occasionally see each other in the elevator. A wink here, a wink there, very polite, and of course handsome. Not once did he wear a wedding band. He would just so happen to run into me and with perseverance, finally managed to get me to go to dinner with him. Maybe it was the thrill of the chase… I don’t know… I am not him, I cannot tell you his motivations but I can tell you what were his intentions that night." "He wanted to bed me and well he… ummm… he succeeded.” I chuckle but the sound is filled with melancholy. “The first time, I swore his smell had a linger but I ignored it. The second time, he never once said my name. At work, no one knew about us. It was my idea to keep our personal lives separate. I didn't realize how much of a favor I was doing for him.” My throat ...

... burned and my heart ached for the both of us. “It wasn't until he was asleep that he mumbled your name. Another time, he took a shower and I saw a message from you. I got your number from his good friend Robby." “You may be wondering why I’m telling you this.” I sigh, pouring more scotch into my glass. "Katherine, I didn't want to be that girl. The home wrecker. I didn't steal your husband nor was it ever my intention. We were both deceived. I’m sorry." I hang up before slowly settling down against the bathroom door. I wasn’t crying, just felt… hollow. As if my heart had stopped beating and there was no more air in my lungs. He had already left but his mark was still on my skin, haunting me. A trail of his seed seeps out of my slit and trails down my bare thigh, the inside of my calf. A reminder of where he had been. The shower was still wet from when he had cleansed himself only an hour before, removing any traces of my perfume, my taste, my mark. I was the other woman. I was the one he fucked like a whore before going home and tucking his children into bed. Guilt, shame, and anger mixed together in my blood. I had been so effortlessly wrapped around his touch. His taste. His smell. I was the other woman. *** “Stewart, why don’t you kiss me?” I tease, as we twirl around in circles. There is music in the background and incandescent lighting across the ballroom. My red dress flows with each movement, while his rough hands guide me around and around the dance floor. “I thought ...