Well-Intentioned

"I never wanted to be put up on a pedestal by Lance or by anyone else, but then I put myself up there at the advice of the women in the neighborhood. Once I fell... I was so glad to meet you. Even with the crush, you still treated me like a human being, and it felt so... comforting, I guess. I didn't have to be Superwife to Lance, or the slut whose secret a whole damned neighborhood had to keep, or the easy lay that Troy treated me like.

"With you, I'm just... just 'Ella, your friend.'" She chuckled. "Maybe, 'Ella, spank bank entry' sometimes, too, but you mostly stopped drooling around me after a while, so I tried to just take that as a compliment."

Ella fell silent for a few moments, then quietly said, "I'd really like to get back to that with you. If I can't... okay, I understand, even if I hate it. But if I can't, then I at least need to get back to the point where I'm not 'Ella, the leper,' because otherwise this isn't going to work. Lance is going to figure out something weird's going on."

"... Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so."

"Okay." She took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Then what I need you to do is get into your workout gear and drag your ass down to my house. Fake it til you make it, right? We get back onto the schedule, and maybe--"

"No."

She tilted her head to one side. "What?"

"No. I can't..." I sighed. "Look, maybe later, but when I think about going to work out in your house, all I can see is that scumbag fucking you in the middle of your living room. I know, one hundred percent, that if I go over there, and watch you sweat and grunt and strain in your yoga pants and your cutoff shirt..." I shook my head. "If the goal is to get back to 'normal,' then we need to change things up, as weird as that sounds."

Ella slowly nodded as she took in my meaning. "Alright. What if... Hrm, what if we work out here? You don't have all the equipment, but we could do bodyweight circuits. I'll still..." She chuckled. "Well, I can't do much about grunting and sweating and straining, but I also won't hold it against you if that has, you know, an effect on you. Does that work?"

"I suppose we can give it a shot."

We did give it a shot, and her body did have an effect on me, and she did let it go unremarked upon. "Awkward" doesn't even begin to describe that first workout, or the second, or the third. By the fourth, though, my dick minded its own business, and by the fifth, we were back to joking and laughing in between sets. I won't say that I forgot, but I did move on.

By the time a month had gone by, we were palling around again sometimes. The atmosphere felt different, like a subtle electric charge constantly passing between us, but she also let that go unremarked upon. So did I. I think the others in the neighborhood might have noticed, but Lance didn't seem to, even when he was there.

After three months had passed, "even when he was there" turned out to be "almost never." As any small business owner learns, the reward for success is more work. Could Lance have turned some of it away? Maybe. Ella certainly thought so. I didn't want to side against him, but the extra hours did seem excessive, especially when he had a wife like Ella at home and kids whose childhood he was missing.

I get it though, especially now; there's always another expense coming up. More importantly, after a setback like the one they'd suffered, one that could have led to disaster, a powerful fear can take hold, a fear that there's just another disaster around the corner. There was; just not the type he thought.

Ella grew increasingly frustrated with her husband. I knew, because of all the conversations we'd had around the subject of what had come before, that she'd often been frustrated but always hid it from him, or at least tried to. However, before she'd had the outlet of Tony and his good-but-rarely-great extramarital dick to fall back on. Without that, she found it difficult to hide her anger, even sometimes from her husband.

This new Ella--or rather, the old Ella that I'd never seen--didn't quite badmouth Lance when we hung out together, but she made her irritation known. Beneath those simmering resentments, though, I saw something new every once in a while, a gleam in her eye that I'd never noticed before. Or maybe it had never been there at all; I'd only met Ella after she was getting her needs met outside her marriage. On the occasions that gleam made an appearance, she put me in mind of a caged beast, pacing and growling at the bars as it waited to be fed.

I wish I could say that I saw what was coming. I think, if I'm being honest, that I subconsciously ignored the signs. Like I said, though, outside of the more charged atmosphere between us-- which I ascribed to our newly shared secret--and the occasional hunger I saw in her eyes, things seemed like they'd almost gotten back to normal where she and I were concerned.

They hadn't, though, even if I didn't realize it. Our lives became further enmesheKd as Lance's travels kept him away from home more often. Hunter, now six, had gone into kindergarten, but Ella would regularly bring Zoe along to hang with "Unca Doug" when we spent time together, and I became a fixture in their home.

Sometimes I'd even cook dinner for the family when Lance was out of town. Of the skills the neighborhood women taught me, that ended up developing into a real hobby, and the Jenkins family benefited from my new obsession. Most of them, anyways.

The spot in Ella's living room where I'd seen her and Tony fucking had largely lost its power over me, although we still worked out in my house; the bodyweight routine turned out to be a great change of pace for her, and coming over to my place gave her another excuse to get out and about. Little Zoe even sometimes joined in, and that gave Ella an idea for a "Yoga For Kids" program.

Between my business, neighborhood events, and Ella's more prominent place in my life, I scarcely noticed as the conga line of young, single women to and from my front door dwindled first to the occasional minuet and then to night after night of solo interpretive dance. Every weekend, I'd mean to go out to get laid again, but something would come up, and I'd push it off. Besides, I had companionship, even if it wasn't sexual, and there was plenty of time to get back out there when things slackened up a bit. Right?

Five months after my discovery, Ella knocked on my door. She'd showed up early for our Wednesday workout, but that wasn't particularly out of the ordinary; we often socialized while I grabbed a snack or made a light lunch for her, Zoe, and myself. Today, though, Zoe hadn't tagged along, and Ella seemed off. After a quick greeting, she stepped inside, glancing over her shoulder as she did.

"El? Everything okay?"

She shook her head, frowning. "No. No, it's not." Shrugging out of her coat, she continued, "Nothing is okay. Lance... We fought again. Really fought, like back before... well, before."

"I'm sorry, hon. Is there anything I can do?"

"That's, um, that's why I came here early. I- I need to ask just a huge favor from you." She leaned closer to me, eyes lit up with that wild gleam, now overlaid with something else. Something needful. "You're the only person I can ask. I wouldn't, but--"

I interrupted her, pulling away as I did. "Hold up. Why don't you go make yourself comfortable in the living room, and I'll get us a couple of drinks. It sounds like you could use one."

Ella nodded, a small frown on her face. "Yeah. Yeah, I probably do."

A few minutes later, drinks in hand, I asked, "Where's Zoe?"

"She's with Julia. I told her..." She took the proffered cosmo and sipped at it. "Thanks, that's... mmm. God, that's good. Thank you. Anyway, I told her that I needed to talk to you alone today. She's such a godsend, you know?"

"Yeah, she's great." I sat down on the couch, not too close, but not too far, either. "So, what is it you needed to talk to me about? You know you can ask just about anything from me, Ella."

She bit at her lip. "I know. And, like I said, I wouldn't but... Well, I talked with some of the other ladies, and they agree this is probably the best option. That you are. That..." Her fingers curled and uncurled, forming themselves into fists and flattening out again. She shivered with nervous energy.

"Hey, it's okay. Just say it."

Ella squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and opened them again. The gleam was still there, but the needfulness had deepened to pleading. "I need... it... again. What I had with Tony, but- but not with Tony. Lance and I are fighting, and I almost took his head off this morning. I need to be... imperfect again. To get fucked and be guilty and save my marriage. And- and I want you to... help me."

Before I could protest, she pushed through. "Please don't say no! It makes sense. It does. You care about me and about Lance. I think... I think maybe you even love me. I'm not asking you to say that, and I don't even mean it as romantic, but as a friend. And I love you, too, that way. Not like I love Lance, but if things..."

She shook her head. "No, that's- that's not what this is about. It's not about 'what ifs.' It's about what is and what needs to be. You want what's best for me and for my family. You've carried this huge secret for months, even though it pained you. I've always been able to rely on you, but these last few months... I've come to count on you for- for so much.

"I know you want me, Doug. I want you, too, and I have for a long time. Even before you knew--" She frowned. "--Before you knew what I'd done, I thought about approaching you for this help. I wanted to be with someone I actually liked, that I actually wanted in more than a sexual way. Someone who could be an actual friend with benefits instead of just a guy I fucked."

Ella scooted fractionally closer; I smelled her shampoo, a melange of floral scents. "I know it's a lot to ask, another secret to keep, but I promise you that I'll make it up to you. When I need to get fucked, I'll... God, I'll do just about anything you ask. You can make me feel like a dirty little whore, or you can treat me like a lover, or just bang me like one of those sluts you brought home from the clubs. However you want me, as long as you can help me take the edge off."

I inclined my head towards her with a chuckle. "And what if I want you when you don't need to get fucked? What if I need to get laid instead? I get busy at work, and it's hard to get out there and find some slut that just wants to get laid. If I've got you on tap, well..."

Her breath caught. "I, ah, I hadn't thought about that. But... Yeah. Yeah, what I need... It's a big ask, like I said. So, yeah, I can do that. I can, um, help you out, too."

With a snort, I asked, "Would it be that much of an imposition?"

The hottest MILF I'd ever met leaned in closer and purred, "Nnno, I suppose not. I didn't mean to make it sound like that. I'd be lying if I said that... Well, if you had asked before, back when I was still fucking Tony, I probably would have. It would have made my life a lot simpler. I just didn't think you'd be so eager." Her hand moved to my knee, then upwards. She squeezed gently. "But you've always been eager, haven't you?"

"Yeah. From that first day we met. Have you? Honestly?"

"Always?" She grinned. "No. Not always. But for a long time, yeah. I've seen how you look at me, and it gets me so wet that I have to change after we work out. I'll let you in on a little secret, too: the last maybe eight, nine months with Tony? I wished he was you."

I brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You said that you talked to some of the others? Our neighbors? Who?"

"Oh, Julia, Mary, a few others. They know... Well, everyone knows what a good friend you've been to me, and they all appreciate that you kept my secret. Our secret, all of ours. They trust you to keep this one, too." Ella chuckled again. "Like you said, if you've got me on tap..."

With a sheepish nod, I agreed, "Yeah. But what about the others? The ones you didn't talk to?"

She sighed. "They'll come around. I've talked to Kathy and, well, Bob's going to be pissed, but she's sure she can get him to see my- our point of view."

"Better the devil you know?"

Ella bit her lip sensually, eyes half-lidded, "Mmmm, yeah. The devil I know. Maybe not biblically yet, but I want to fix that." My cock jumped in my pants, and she let out a soft moan. "Fuck, it's as nice as I thought, too."

My fantasy woman leaned in towards me, lips parted, eyes closed, and I didn't stop her. Ella's tongue probed between my lips, and her hand squeezed and stroked at my dick. She took my hand and put it between her legs, moaning as my fingers touched the damp fabric and felt the heat radiating behind it.

Breaking free, I gasped, "What about Lance?"

Ella's panting turned her reply to a husky whisper. "Lance won't know. He doesn't need to. I'll love him like I always have. I'll just love you, too. Not in the same way, but... Mmm, God, baby, I'll give you more than you can handle."

"Will you let me go bareback? What if I want to cum in your slutty little married cunt?" The moan this provoked came long and loud, my friend with potential benefits nodding her head desperately as she writhed beneath my touch.

Ella had cheated on her husband before, so any vows she'd made had already been broken. Our neighbors had kept her secret, and I'd kept all of theirs; they'd look the other way for this, too, I was certain. Her clueless husband would never find out; I could fuck his wife every single day if I wanted.

He wouldn't stop me. Our neighbors wouldn't stop me. Ella would never even think to stop me. No one would stop me.

No one but me.

Between my lust and my anger, I almost didn't get the words out. "What if I get married? Will you still be my little cheating slut if I want you?"

Her half-closed eyes fluttered for a moment. "Oh, fuck, yes."

My hand moved away from her crotch. "And what if there's another recession, and I have to work like Lance does to support my family? Will you make sure my wife's taken care of the way you want me to take care of you?"

"Wh- what?"

I snarled, "Will you help her cheat on me like the rest of our neighbors helped you cheat on Lance? Will you cover for her? Will they? Maybe find a nice young man to give her what I don't have the time to?"

Ella stared at me, her voice trembling, "Doug, I would never... You're my friend. I'd never do that to you."

"Like Lance is everyone's friend? Like they'd never do this to him?"

"Doug--"

I shook my head. "Stop. I covered for you before because you ended things with Tony, and I couldn't see any good coming from telling him. But this..." My face turned away from her perfect body, now disgusted with my fantasy girl rather than enamored. "No. I won't be part of it. Of any of it."

Fear in her voice mixed with anger and the remnants of her need. "What does that mean?"

I sighed, just so fucking tired of all this. "Tell him. About Tony, about the secrets we've kept, about all of it. Stop cheating on him and stop making me party to your infidelity."

"I can't tell him!"

I locked eyes with Ella and saw tears threatening to fall from them. "You will, or I will." She gasped, then sobbed, and streaks of mascara painted her apple cheeks. I softened my tone. "Tell him, Ella. This... What you're doing, what you offered me, isn't love, no matter how you try to justify it to yourself."

She shrieked, "I can't!"

I stood, pulling her to her feet. She tried to hang off me, but I wouldn't let her play the damsel-in-distress anymore. After all but dragging her to the front door, then draping her coat back across her heaving shoulders, I allowed myself--I allowed both of us--a moment of tenderness.

Dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, I said softly, "If you really love him, do this. Tell him. Find a way forward if you can. But you have to tell him, or I will. I can give you until Sunday night, but if you haven't told him by then..."

Ella looked at me in horror, then in rage. I opened the door and pointed. Her face twisted into a snarl as if to berate me, but I quietly ordered, "Out," and the words died on her lips. My friend turned away from me and left my home for good.

I didn't get any work done that day, nor did I sleep well that night. The following day was better, but by Saturday evening, I realized that I'd had no visitors, and I began to worry. I'd expected someone to come and try to talk me out of exposing Ella's secret and, in turn, the community's role in keeping it. That didn't happen. No one came to talk to me about this or anything else.

I thought about reaching out to someone, but instead decided to keep my own counsel for once. The longer I sat with my decision alone, the more certain I became that it was the right one. It had taken me longer to get there than it should have, but I'd gotten there. That had to count for something, right? Months before, Bob had asked me to make the right choice, and I felt like I finally had. I understood why they hadn't, why their fear steered them in the wrong direction, but I wasn't going to let fear guide me anymore. I never should have in the first place.

Sunday evening, as I made my way toward Ella and Lance's front door, I was Marshal Will Kane in High Noon, about to face down the evil no one else in town would. Maybe they'd thank me for it, and maybe they wouldn't. Either way, I'd do what needed to be done.

Lance answered the door when I knocked, and I felt relief. Ella might have made a scene while keeping me from getting to him. Instead, we could talk man to man. "Lance--"

I didn't see the first punch coming, and it left me too dazed to stop the second. "You son of a bitch!" A third followed, grazing my head as I staggered off the step. "You come around here after what you said to my wife? After what you tried to do?"

"What?" My ears rang. I hadn't been in a fight since third grade, and I'd lost that one. Lance was chubby and already winded, but he still had several inches on me and a righteous rage fueling his fists.

I slipped the next punch, as he huffed, "You were our friend, asshole! She came to you for a shoulder to cry on, and you tried to seduce her? The fuck is wrong with you?" He tried for a haymaker, but it quickly became clear that he hadn't been in a fight in a long time either, and I dodged backwards out of the arc of his wild swing.

"That's not what--"

"Doug." Bob's low, stentorian tone caught my attention. I looked past Lance and saw him, Kathy, and Ella standing on the stoop. Ella was reaching out for her husband, trying to stop him, but Bob and Kathy simply looked on with disappointed faces. "Go on home, son. You aren't welcome here."

"You aren't welcome here." In that moment, I knew "here" didn't mean in the Jenkins' house, or on their stoop, or in their yard. "Here" meant the neighborhood. It meant the community.

I looked to my left and right and saw the silhouettes of our neighbors in their windows, watching the clumsy brawl. Glancing back, more were visible in the houses across the street, townsfolk waiting to see the outcome of the showdown, even as they knew I'd been outgunned from the beginning.

Once upon a time, I'd been their project, but now I'd become their problem. Bob and Kathy's presence at the Jenkins', backing up whatever Ella said, meant this wasn't High Noon. It was High Plains Drifter, and I was Jim Duncan being beaten as the citizens watched, a sacrifice to hide their sins.

Lance's next punch landed squarely on my temple, this one catching me unawares as I came to understand my role. I fell to the ground, head spinning; Ella reached Lance and grabbed his arm before he could take a stride forward to kick or stomp me, trying to calm his rage before he did something that might land him in prison.