We lay on the bed, clothed. I was on my back, under the covers and Joel was on top of them with his back toward me, facing the hotel room’s window. I was willingly manipulated to be there; I didn’t know how or why he was there. My friend who looks after me, Fran, was in the other queen bed with her young man. If they weren’t fucking now, they would be soon. The blood was pounding too loudly in my ears for me to tell.

Joel wasn’t sleeping either. I was afraid to talk to him. I was afraid to disturb Fran and Bobby. I was afraid that they might eavesdrop if I talked to Joel. I was afraid of what they might say and most of all I was afraid of what Joel might say. 

I was a fool and was about to prove it, I was sure. “You can get under the covers with me,” I told him, not quietly enough to prevent the other two from noticing. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. I never knew how loud rustling sheets could be. That was it. I was officially in bed with another man, one half my age and not my husband of almost twenty years – a husband I was told I was lucky to have. 

My husband didn’t like Fran. She had kicked her ex out long ago for being an asshole and often encouraged me to do the same. “He’s not so bad,” was the best defense that I could ever come up with. 

Fran had circles of friends, lots of circles. Joel and Bobby were in one of them. Usually, when I saw Fran, just the two of us would go out. Sometimes I would tag along with one circle or another and after I met Joel, I tagged along a little more. A while ago, she said that a group of them was going to New York City to catch a show or two. I had never been. 

“Come with,” she said. 

“It’s expensive.” 

“We’ll get half-price day-of tickets. We’ll share a room.” Little did I know… 

“Joel’s coming,” she added. 

“That doesn’t matter.” It did, though. We always found each other during gatherings. He made me laugh and I made him laugh, in a good way. We never flirted. I would never have dared, and I wouldn’t have known what to do if he did. I didn’t know why a twenty-something wanted anything to do with a dowdy forty-something, but I wasn’t going to ask. 

I guess Joel and I bored our hotel roommates. I didn’t look in their direction at first when I heard the unmistakable sounds of mouths on mouths and skin. 

“Marta,” Joel whispered into my ear. “I don’t know what to do.” 

I jumped, startled, and turned toward him. Our noses touched and we both shifted away. I didn’t know what he meant and told him that. His hand touched mine and I learned what it was like to have your heart leap. This is it, I thought. Then he tugged my wedding ring, and I understood what he meant. I wanted him to make that decision for me. 

“I think that you do know what to do.” I closed my eyes, and he pressed his lips against mine. He backed away and I stayed where I was with my eyes still closed and my lips still parted. He came back, thank God he came back, and we tasted each other with our twisting tongues. I moaned a little and made myself stop before we were noticed. Then I moaned again. 

We stopped and I looked at him, this man whose desire on his face was plain even in the pale city lights that shone through the window. “You’re really pretty,” he said. I pulled him to me by the back of his head and kissed him hard before he had a chance to change his mind. 

Joel dragged my shirt out of my pants and reached under to massage my breasts. I cursed my choice of clothing and tried to pull my shirt over my head without exposing myself. I caved and sat up, stripped off my top, and unclasped my bra, which he took and cast aside. 

Before I could duck under the covers, Joel took a breast into his mouth. I lay down and covered us in time, I think, before the others saw anything. He sucked on one tit and played with the other. We were lying in awkward positions with one of my arms trapped and he was just out of reach of my other. 

He let it fall out and kissed his way across my chest to the other. My girls never got enough attention; he could have done that for me all night. For a moment, I forgot that what I was doing was wrong. Then I got angry. “Suck on it harder,” I said in a hoarse whisper. I pinched my other nipple until it hurt to punish myself and then twisted it to make it hurt more because I liked it. 

I was able to wedge some fingers down the back of his jeans and fumbled with my pants with the other. Joel kissed me again and I raised my torso to rub my stiff, sore nipples against his chest. He tried to help me yank my pants down. “Take your shirt off,” I said and lifted my butt to slide my pants off myself. 

I caught Fran and Bobby looking away and made sure I was covered up. 

My panties were the least imaginative ones that the least amount of money could buy. I was embarrassed by them, I was embarrassed by how wet they were, and I was embarrassed by my untrimmed bushy cunt. If nothing else, I had shaved my legs. 

Joel’s chest had more hair than I had imagined, and he was fit, with broad shoulders. He teased me with an almost kiss on the lips and a real one behind my jaw. His lips continued down my neck and chest. I thought that my breasts were going to get some more love, but he kept going down, further down. 

Nobody had ever done that to me – for me – before. Past my belly button, he swung to my thigh before circling back. I swallowed hard and said quietly, “Wait. You don’t have to do that.” 

He looked confused. “You don’t like it?” 

“Shh! I don’t know, but it’s alright.” 

“Relax.” He smiled. He knew. It was alright. 

Joel started up where he left off, at the crease between my leg and mons. His finger found its way through the brush and into my pussy. That was nice all by itself but then he used a second to make a safe passage for his tongue. 

I gasped, shuddered, and giggled with my hands over my face. I had never, but Joel… 

I clutched at the sheets and tried not to move; I didn’t want to get in his way. The way he used his mouth and jaw, the ways he used his tongue to dance around and across my clit had me writhing and whimpering. 

Fran had to have heard me. I stole a glance their way only to find her with her eyes closed and her mouth open. Bobby was nowhere in sight – copycats. 

Apparently, Joel enjoyed going down there. I had been told that only dominated wimps and sissies did that. He was obviously neither of those and I composed myself and let myself be naughty. The care that my privates got while Joel was feeding was so new and wonderful that my orgasm snuck up on me. When it let loose, I wrested the pillow from under my head, crushed it over my face, and screamed. 

“Marta,” Joel whispered as he lifted the pillow away. “Are you okay?” His proud smile said that he knew that I was. 

“Yes, God, yes,” I said and thanked him over and over. I didn’t know what else to say. He almost kissed me, but I refused because of where his mouth had been. That was silly of me, I know. Joel understood but before he moved away, I gave him a tentative kiss and followed with a bigger one. I didn’t taste bad at all and the longer we kissed, the less it mattered. 

I bit my lip and gestured at the bulge in Joel’s jeans. “Take off your pants; it’s your turn.” He stood, silhouetted by the window, and hitched his thumbs under his waistband. “Don’t,” I said indicating our roommates and the window. He shrugged and pulled them down anyway. 

His cock looked big. Maybe it was an optical illusion against the backdrop of skyscrapers, but it wasn’t. My senior prom’s date’s was smaller for certain and I felt disloyal thinking that it was better than my husband’s. (Funny, right?) 

He climbed beside me, and I took him, rock-hard, in hand. I didn’t need to stroke or suck on him to get him ready for sex, but I started to out of habit. 

“Marta, I can’t wait,” he said and moved my legs apart with a touch. He positioned himself at my wet entrance and I guided him in, easily, easier than I had ever taken a cock before. I felt horrible about my faithlessness, but I couldn’t take it back by taking it out. I devoted my pussy to my young lover’s steel rod. 

Joel took his time for a time. I’m normally so passive, but I encouraged him to thrust faster and harder as my hips rose and fell on their own. I embraced him and pulled him down to feel his entire weight on me. Thrust after thrust brought me closer and closer to a second climax – a second one.  I was so close when he stopped, and I felt his cum pump out inside of me. 

“Don’t stop!” I demanded and he resumed, falteringly at first, to piledrive me to my orgasm. He rolled off, sweaty and breathless, and left me lying in shock. 

A lump swelled in my throat that I fought to quell but I couldn’t. I sobbed quietly at first but returned my pillow to my face and wailed into it. I cried for being a cheating bitch, I cried for using a man whom I cared for, and, most of all, I cried for myself for what I had been missing. 

Joel rubbed my arm and took my hand. Fran, wrapped in a sheet, was by my side in an instant. “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay,” she repeated. I shook my head that it wasn’t, not that anyone could see me. She climbed next to me and held me while the boys dressed and left us alone. 

“Why did you do this to me,” I spat and then I apologized. Fran didn’t say anything; she knew it was best not to. She always knew what was best. She let the boys back in once I was soothed. Joel found his shoes and said that he’d go sleep somewhere else. I made him stay. 

I put on my blah pajamas, and he kept his street clothes on. We finished the night the way we had started, sharing a bed, dressed, and not knowing what was coming next.