Lustly(11)

I made it to my car before I saw her, walking out of the house with only a robe wrapped around her naked body. Her breasts, a result of plastic surgery, were perky and supple. I’d kill for tits that looked like hers and she was much older than me. “Darling, wait!”

“It’s fine. I didn’t mean to impose. I should have called before I came.” My heart was beating out of my chest, and secretly I’d gotten a bit hot watching the two of them having intercourse.

Maybe I was voyeur, in an inexperienced kind of way, obviously.

She never covered herself up as she got closer to me. With only a van door between us, she wet her lips before she spoke. “My massage ran over. I apologize.”

I wanted to laugh, because that was much different from any massage I’d ever gotten. “It’s fine. I need to get home to my kids.”

“You mean the teenagers at nine-fourteen Magnolia Avenue?”

I hadn’t given the woman any of my information; the fact that she knew who I was and where I lived rubbed me the wrong way. “How did you -.”

“When I invite people to my home, I need to know everything about them, including the fact that they’re still married to their cheating spouses.”

That was a smack in the face. How embarrassing. “I don’t understand. I gave you no information.”

She laughed. “I had you followed, love. My business is very private. I needed information to hold over your head in case you think about discussing my personal matters with other people. All I needed was your tag number. The internet is an amazing place.”

The internet, where porn could be found as fast as a click. Where lives could be ruined from one social media page. Where I probably shouldn’t have gone to look for presents to buy my husband, because he was such a douche.

I felt intimidated, angry, and a little afraid. Here was this woman, standing in front of me half-naked, telling me that she needed information to hold over my head. Why? Why would she need that?

I had nothing to show for, except my kids and the clothes on my back. My life was in shambles.

“Are you part of the mob? I want no part of that, even if it is to open doors and clean toilets.”

She laughed again. “Darling, I didn’t invite you hear to clean my toilets. I invited you to here to offer you a different type of position. You see, I have several companies, and within those companies are different jobs. There is one in particular that I feel someone like you could benefit from. You definitely have the body for it, that’s for sure.” Was she complimenting me for being thin and taking care of my body? This was getting even weirder. “I took one look at you and knew you’d be perfect. It’s convincing you of it that’s going to take time.”

She seemed so certain that she knew me and it pissed me off. “You may know that I’m still married, where I live, and how old my kids are. Anyone can find that out on the internet like you said. That doesn’t mean you know me. You know nothing about me.”

“I know you’re going through hell. Obviously you have no means of income, and risk losing it all because your husband, that you’ve probably devoted yourself to, is out f*cking other women. You can stop me whenever I’m wrong about something.” She took a second and smiled, looking me right in the eyes. I didn’t know whether to pull off and possibly run over her foot, or hear her out. “I’ve been exactly where you are, Lily. I’ve felt that pain you’re going through. I know what it’s like to look at my children and feel like if I didn’t stay I was failing them.”

Another woman who understood. The instant connection was inevitable. I needed a friend. Naked or not, I wanted to hear that I wasn’t alone. Now I’m being creepy.

My hands gripped my steering wheel and I let my head fall against it as she spoke. “It was many years ago, and I don’t like to revisit that time in my life, but it’s always there, reminding me how far I’ve come.”

“Was your husband rich? Did you get this in the divorce?”

She motioned her hand in a wave, as if to say my assumption was wrong. “Hardly. We lived paycheck to paycheck. My two kids got what they needed, but it was never without struggle. I caught my husband with my sister, on Christmas Eve. They’d stayed up while I put the kids down and went to bed, after wrapping presents until I couldn’t stay awake any longer. When I woke up to an empty bed I figured he’d just fallen asleep downstairs. Right in the middle of our living room floor, where our children could have walked down and seen, they were making love. I suspect it had been going on for probably years. The way they knew each other’s bodies only came from plenty of experience together.”

She got silent for a moment and I saw my first hint of remorse in her eyes. He’s ripped her heart out, and that’s why she’d become so brutally dry. “I can’t even imagine catching my husband like that. May I ask what happened?”

She stepped away from the vehicle and closed her robe, finally. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

Drawn to her story, so similar to mine, I climbed out of the van and followed her back inside of the house. At the time it didn’t occur to me that she’d just been screwing some guy, and was still walking around with nothing but a thin robe. She led me into the home, walking past the room that I’d seen her in before. We ended up in a room that faced the pool. It was surrounded by glass windows, and large decorative trees were as high as the cathedral ceilings would allow them to grow. In a very large cushioned rattan chair was a pair of eyeglasses and a magazine. A glass of wine was on the table in front of it. She sat down next to them and motioned for me to sit across from her at another matching sofa. “As you can imagine, talking about that part of my life is difficult. I let myself become vulnerable, which is something I’ve never let myself do again. You need to understand that I didn’t get this lifestyle without doing things I’m not proud of. I was desperate, and had no means at making a living for myself. Like you, I had children to think about, and the idea of losing my husband, my sister, and them too was horrifying.”