Revenge Ch. 01

Brad drunkenly staggered towards the bed, his eyes fixed on the swollen vaginal lips. His cock was erect and ready for some more pleasures. He would take her away; take her away from her husband just like Harold Witherspoon had taken his wife away from him, and his Lisa.

He clambered up the bed and positioned himself between her legs, seeking out her wet opening. He pushed his cock's head inside, and then his entire thick long girth, till he was pressed tightly against her and resumed the age old movement of sex, picking up speed with each thrust. Susan opened her eyes as shock waves of lust began coursing thru her body in response to the vigorous and tall muscular figure on top of her, taking her again.

"If only he would smile," she thought as she accommodated him by adjusting her naked trembling body. It was a good thing that hubby darling would be returning by the late afternoon flight.

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The shrill incessant ringing of the alarm broke his sleep. Brad got up with a start, his eyes taking their time to focus. He looked at the naked woman sleeping next to him. For a moment he failed to place her. Then he remembered. Ah, she was the playwright's wife, Sherrie or Susan or whatever. She had been good, matching his thrusts with that of her own.

He liked a good active partner in bed and was sure he would be seeing more of her. The story written by her husband for a TV serial would be requiring many changes and amendments before he would place his mark of approval on it and then share it with the leading production houses. And every time he had those changes made he would be "calling over" Sherrie or Susan or whatever for an "update."

It was funny how his hobby of writing short stories had turned into a full time flourishing business thought Brad as he took a hurried shower. But that's the way it was now. He was no longer a civil engineer but a full time story syndicator for a select elite group of TV serial production houses. They would pay a handsome premium for the stories submitted by him and he in turn would share it with the original writers.

At times, on his say so, they would even meet some of the story writers in person. Some such writers had ultimately made a place of their own in the TV serial industry and no longer needed his services. Susan, Sherrie or whatever hoped her husband would join that select club one day.

No problem there, as there were many more wanna-be writers in the queue and many permanently with him. He had a fully fledged staff working on the stories submitted to make them come up to his satisfaction level before being submitted to the serial houses ... and there would be many proof reading sessions to enjoy with what's her name before her husband's penning was ultimately cleared by him.

Yes, he was no longer a civil engineer but a businessman by profession. The only connection with his old profession was thru his association with a group of private financers who lent money to those who could not raise it thru official means. And some such borrowers also came from his old industry. His fellow private sponsors came from different fields and yes, they charged an exorbitantly high rate of interest.

After all as the saying goes, "Money can't buy everything, but it can buy everything else!" Brad smiled bitterly. He had learnt that the hard way and he was not going to forget it. Never.

But right now he was getting late. He looked at the time piece. He had twenty minutes to make it there, like he did almost every morning without fail. He hurriedly put on his office suit. He always kept some spare clothes at this hotel room which was permanently booked in one of his employees name throughout the year.

Just then the door lock clicked open and a smart woman in the hotel dress walked in. She was in her early thirties, married and a mother. But that firm, well moulded body could fool anyone into believing otherwise. She was also a closet lesbian. She loved her husband, she loved her kid and she loved her femineity.

had him fooled too til he returned back one afternoon with the wife of another wanna be TV serial writer and found her asleep in the arms of the lady who had spent the night with him earlier.

The arrangement couldn't have been better suited. He wanted his liaisons to be kept discreet and so he asked the hotel management to permanently fix one employee in charge of his room. He was willing to pay for the special services. He could now afford it. Rita was the appointed one. It was her duty to ensure that his lady friend for the night was properly attended to in the morning. A car would then whisk her away and Rita would then make the hotel room proper again. This worked out fine for him and as he suspected, it suited Rita too.

"Hi," said Rita as she walked in briskly. "Hi," replied Brad admiring the bouncing and swaying breasts hidden behind the fabrics of the hotel uniform as they defied gravity and strained at the tight blouse she wore, threatening to pop the buttons with each stride she took.

She looked into the bedroom and glimpsed the nude sleeping form. For a couple of moments she continued to examine the lovely piece of feminism before a small smile began playing upon her lips. The lady in the bed interested her.

"I see we had a visitor in the night," she remarked as she swung back to face Brad who by now was hurriedly making his way out. He didn't have much time left.

"Do ensure the lady gets all the attention she needs," called out Brad.

"Have I ever failed?" she replied back with a smirk, the double innuendo not being missed by Brad.

"If only he would smile," said Rita to herself as she continued to stare at the closed door. Then she turned to look at the sleeping beauty with red marks of ravishment all over her body and licked her lips.

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It was a bright, sunny morning and the sun shone brightly down from a cloudless sky. He was in time, just in time. Brad slowed down his BMW as he neared the school and then swung to the kerb and shut off the engine a little distance away and waited like he always had every day for the past many years. A few minutes later a limousine came into view. It came to a halt in front of the school and the chauffeur quickly got out and opened the rear door.

Then he saw her. The sunrays shimmered thru her long wavy dark hair as she stepped out of the limousine with her school bag casually slung over her shoulder. It seemed as though the entire world had come to a standstill. He watched her wave out to her friends, taking long steady strides towards them. She had the legs of her mother. But the laughing blue eyes, the long nose and firm jaw were his gift to their child. It was Lisa his daughter.

He looked on proudly as she was joined by her friends and they began making their way to the main entrance. His chest swelled up in pride. She would grow up to be a stunner. She was already a teenager and soon her body would fill up, announcing her entry to womanhood.

A movement made his head swing back to the limo. Another child had stepped down. A much smaller child in age. Like his sister, he too had dark wavy hair but his honey brown eyes were from his mother's side ... and ... and his round jaw, oval face and short neck were his father's gift, his father ... yes, his father was Harold Witherspoon, the man with whom his wife had almost an year long affair while being married to him and then left him to become her lover's in name also. The boy looked petulantly all around him and then slowly trudged up the stairway all alone.

Brad switched on the engine and drove to his office block. There were a pile of proof readings sitting on his desk for his final review and some messages marked important from some Production Houses. Perhaps they wanted some urgent alteration to the story line of a serial already being aired. This normally happened if the actor or actress had decided to leave the show.

He instructed his secretary to put on the "do not disturb" sign on his door and then immersed himself in his work. His secretary Brenda shook her head wryly. It was gonna be one of those days. After reading that sign none of the staff people would venture into his office even after the sign had long been removed.

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The pain was back in his chest. So was the nausea. The tentacles were once again creeping in from under his office's door.

His mind went back to that fateful evening so many years ago. He had been watching the prime time news. The past year had not been kind to them. The downturn in the economy had meant that the construction business had lost its steam.

There was not much work going about and their company had cut their salary by almost half after coming to an agreement with the union that once they were out of the depression cycle they would make it up to the workers. The union agreed as the workers were not being fired and put out on the streets.

With free time on his hands, Brad began writing stories to fill in the time. He also became a stay at home dad as the company would call him over to a site whenever it was required. But that was not often, just a couple of days in a week.

With reduced earnings came a cut in their household spending. A household commodity once a necessity was now looked upon as a luxury. But Nancy's firm somehow managed to keep its head above the water. Heads did roll in her company but Nancy was one of the lucky ones, or so he thought.

It would be much later, after a lot of water had flown under the bridge, that he would realise the reason why she continued was because her lover so insisted with her boss. He had very bluntly told them that he would deal with no one else but Nancy. But he had been ignorant and happy then. At least they could continue to pay off the house mortgage payments.

But the sudden penury took its toll at home. Nancy made it very clear with her attitude that she did not like his being at home all day. It was the man's job to support the family. The main role for men is the one of primary income earner and breadwinner. He should be out in the market making money just like many others continued to do so, like Jim across the street, Al her best friend's husband and yes Harold Witherspoon.

As far as she was concerned he was wasting away at home ... and wasting away their lives. Their sex life took a turn for the worse. He would be lucky to get a weekly relief with her, but with her constant traveling even that was becoming a rarity. But how could he complain? At least one of them was still working. Things could have been worse.

All that changed that fateful night.

He had been alone with Lisa for the past two days as Nancy had been traveling again. He had put his free time into completing a story which he had promised his publisher he would send across before the weekend.

It was a romantic story and he was hoping to net a tidy amount as royalty. It was quite late and he decided to take a break as he couldn't quite get the flow of the story right in the final chapters for a proper closing. He went to check on Lisa and on finding her fast asleep in her room, he made himself a drink and switched on the local news on the TV.

He listened idyll as the newsreader finished one news item after another. Then he sat up with interest. The newsreader was talking about the inauguration of a new shopping mall. There had been a party where the local big wigs had been invited as well as the real estate developers involved. That was one of the places Nancy had said she would be going on behalf of her company. He watched the smiling faces as the camera rolled on, trying to catch all the invitees, especially the big and powerful one.

Then he saw her, or rather them. Their back was to the camera as the camera was trying to catch the bigwigs in front of them. She was wearing a stunning black evening dress with spaghetti straps. He recognised the guy she was with. It was Harold Witherspoon. He didn't remember her telling him that he too would be there. He looked on perturbed.

They were standing close, too close from his point of view. And her head seemed to be resting on his shoulders. The camera zoomed in for a close up, his eyes widened in shock. The guy's right hand was resting on the small of her back and he was making small dainty circles.

Brad went cold. Now he knew why his wife's head was resting on that bastard's shoulder. She was sexually very sensitive down there and he had many a times made her cum by softly playing his fingers over there. She would bury her head in his shoulders and moan in delight as he pleasured her with his erotic rubbing. And that's what she was doing in response to that bastard's sexual foreplay.

They were lovers!

For a long time he just sat there staring blankly into the screen as the newsreader went on to the next bit of news. His wife was having an affair. What he had seen made it also clear that they had been at it for quite some time. They seemed so comfortable with each other's body. Suddenly some things began to fit in place. There had been signs but he had just blindly ignored them. A couple of times he had seen some expensive lingerie in the dryer. On inquiring, she told him that she had got them at a sale. That had been more than a month or two ago. Since then he did not remember seeing them again. Then there were times when he would walk into the kitchen while she was talking over the mobile. She would immediately hush up and move over to the patio. How blind in love had he been!

But why? Other than her continuous complaining about him not being able to land a decent job and the things they were being forced to forgo, he could not remember any other flashpoints between the two of them. The sex had no doubt come down between the two of them but he had always put that to their current stressful times, something that would definitely improve in the coming times. But now?

What hurt him most was her dishonesty and lies. If she had wanted out of the marriage, then why didn't she confront him with the issue? Why did she have to kill his trust in her again and again? Did his being temporarily unemployed make him some kind of an outcast, a leper or any less a man?

And now that he suspected her, how should he confront her? He just had a TV news clipping to fall back upon for support. His meagre earnings certainly could not bear the luxury of appointing a PI. A face-off, he thought bitterly. He would catch her and her lover red handed. They wouldn't have anything to defend then.

And what would he do after the confrontation? Scream, shout, and hurl abuses at them? Perhaps even get physical with the asshole?

He was hurt. He was wounded and in deep pain. The woman whom he loved with all his heart had betrayed him so callously. It was as though she had stabbed him in the back. He really didn't know what he would do on seeing her ... he just wanted to confront her.

He had saved some of the money from his last publication for buying a gift for Lisa. Now perhaps he would have to put it to alternate use. He switched on his laptop and booked a room in the same hotel in which his wife would be staying. He then checked the flight reservations and put himself on an afternoon flight. He would be there five in the evening, long before she and her lover would be starting their main course for the day.

The next morning he arranged for Lisa to stay with his wife's parents for the day. He would be returning home only the next morning.

Everything went as planned and by five thirty the next evening he was in his hotel room in the same hotel as his wife was staying. It was one of the upscale hotels in town. A handsome tip to the bell boy also let him know the rooms in which his wife and her lover boy were staying. They were booked next to each other on the floor above him. It was amazing how money could get things done fast and quick. The same bell boy would also be letting him know when his wife entered her hotel room.

He looked at his watch. He had some time to kill. But he didn't feel like drinking. He felt like shit. Brad closed his eyes and thought of his wife, her hot, sultry looks, her wholesome body with nice juicy boobs and those long sexy legs. He loved having them wrapped around his waist as he moved in and out of her moist, lubricated love tunnel. He feverently hoped that his suspicions would be proved wrong, that he had read too much into that clipping in the TV news.

He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew was the incessant ringing of his mobile. It was the bell boy ringing up to confirm that she had arrived a few minutes back. So had Harold Witherspoon. They had arrived together in fact. He looked at his watch. It was almost seven in the evening. He wondered just what kind of meeting these two were attending. Just then his cell buzzed again. It was his wife.

"Hi baby," she chirped happily, "How're things at home?"

"As good as they could be," he replied back stiffly, trying to be calm and collected.

"You don't sound good. Are you okay?" asked Nancy.

"Any reason why I should not be feeling good?" he almost snapped back, somehow managing to control himself in time.

There was a brief silence before Brad spoke again.

"How was your day?"

"Hectic but good. In fact I just got in," she replied.

"Any plans for the evening?"

"Just want to have a nice long sleep tonight," she replied. Somehow her voice lacked conviction.

"Good, I hope I can do that too," replied Brad glibly.

After a few more minutes of pleasantries, she rang off. Brad grimaced. The constriction in his chest was growing. He hoped, desperately hoped against the odds and waited.

An hour later he got his next call. His wife and Harold had entered the restaurant. Bad news, the signs were not favourable. A good half an hour later, Brad entered the restaurant. He knew which table they were occupying. His informant had booked a table for him which hid him partially from their table by a green wall of potted plants. They had a corner table that gave them privacy, a lot of privacy.

And they seemed to be making full use of it. His anger grew as he watched his wife share a level of intimacy which a woman should have with only her partner. They were sitting close together, thigh to thigh with their heads close together and were alternately whispering and giggling like teenagers. It was obvious that their drinks were having their desired effects.

But what really pierced his heart was the sight of the asshole's hand draped across his wife's shoulder. As he watched with clenched fists, his arm moved diagonally down on her back. He pushed her closer and she didn't seem to mind. He was cupping her left breast, pressing then releasing and then pressing again. His wife just looked up at him with lovey-dovey eyes.

Then Harold bent forward and pressed his lips upon hers. His other hand moved up to grasp her right breast. They sat lip locked for what seemed for ages before they finally came out of their embrace. His wife lifted her hand and caressed his cheek and then lovingly tugged at it. A look was exchanged between the two and then Nancy nodded her head and excused herself.

Brad felt sick. Watching his wife behave like a slut hurt him, it literally tore him up. What hurt him most was the humiliation being heaped upon him by the two of them. His wife knew she had a husband waiting for him at home and the asshole knew very well that he was fooling around with a married woman.

He had always treated his wife and her parents with the respect they deserved. This seemed so unreal. He was glad he had chosen to come down to see for himself because he would have never believed anyone if they had told him about his wife having an affair.