There are two types of people in the world. Those that have a moral compass and those that do not. Johnny and Carolyn do not. Les does (for now) and we are not sure of Mrs. Johnny.

Fast forward one week. A week that dragged on for Carolyn and her quasi-boss but constant lover, Johnny. They’d manage only one tryst, on the rainy Sunday following that rainy Saturday. Les still conjured what to do next, as Carolyn had not exactly agreed to end the affair. She knew Les was suspicious as fuck! In their home, the touchless slow dance continued. They cooked for each other, read, watched television and shared chores, but no one mentioned the elephant in the room.

Johnny and his not-so-frumpy-as-advertised wife did the same dance. By the way, she has a name, Renatta.

Renatta’s intuition told her there was more to that man and his wife showing up for the canceled party than her husband told her. With each piece of china, silverware, place setting, candy dish, bottle of booze and mixers she picked up and put away, she reflected on Johnny’s lame reason for those two showing up.

With each party thing, they put back where it belonged, she dropped one hint after another. She queried, “Who are those people anyway?”

Husband replied noncommittedly, “Oh, she works at the company. A new hire, really. I only invited her because she needs to get to know the staff on a more informal basis. I didn’t know she was bringing her husband. My staff always spreads the word that spouses are’ welcome’, but…”

His voice trailed off to convey the idea that spouses weren’t that welcome.

“Johnathan Elliott, are you saying that spouses are not supposed to attend? We are a family-run enterprise. Our house should be a Mecca for all. Spouses should never be in the dark about what is going on in the company. When my mom and dad ran the show, they made sure that our people (husbands and wives) knew our goals and the strategies to meet them.

“Oops! That let the cat out of the bag,” he realized. Now the wife will chase his story down whatever rat hole she can. He tried to recover, explain away what he’d blurted out. When wife calls you by your whole name, there’s hell to pay!

Johnny knew that someone could button-hole this Les at the party planned for next week. They could give him info best-kept secret. He was glad for the rain delay.

“At least she didn’t use my whole name, middle one included,” he sighed. He took the imperial approach, “These are parties, but they give us opportunities to evaluate people, projects and proposals without spousal input.”

He took the chance to soldier on, “Take Carolyn. She is a new hire but she is up for promotion and transfer to our Chicago office. That husband, Les, would have discouraged my proposal.” As soon as he spat the name Les out, he regretted making it sound personal.

“Cover your tracks, boy!” He opined, “I hear he is happy doing IT with a local company and would refuse to move anywhere.”

Renatta heard only a few words of this: ‘proposal’ (aka like marriage?) ‘new hire’ (that Johnny never mentioned Carolyn, despite his typical sharing all the details of the business she financed) and ‘… happy doing IT…”

Renatta spoke up, “You know a lot about this family, but you never said anything to me about her, him, an invitation or their family.”

Johnny was not on his best game. He’d had a few drinks Saturday afternoon, more after they’d canceled the party. By the time Carolyn and that husband of hers rang the doorbell, he was in his cups. Renatta thought back to the messy scene at the door. Unfortunately, Johnny was the only one of the four in the foyer to know how far gone he was. After Carolyn and her husband had excused themselves, he did nothing to help his cause. Faking a snooze in front of a football game heightened his wife’s already building snit.

The more she mulled over last night, the more bossy she got. “You did put the steaks back in the freezer, right? You merely postponed the party until next Saturday? You let the caterers know to come back next week? And the lawn guy, he knows to take care of the branches and storm debris?

A nod of “Uh huh.” Of course, Johnny had done little of her laundry list.

He rose from his resting place as a Phoenix being reconstituted. He knew what he needed.

Finishing his double bloody mary, announced, “I am going to go on a few errands, just to make sure everything is set up for next week. I’ll get a breakfast buffet somewhere.”

He ended with a self-serving, “Don’t worry about me. I know what I need.”

He thought, “Fuck! I‘m still high. I meant to say… what I need to do.”

If Renatta caught the slip, she didn’t let on. She simply watched him from the window as he drove off.

As soon as he rounded the corner he picked up his cellphone, “Carolyn. Cara Mia. Can we talk?”

The cheating wife snapped, “I told you never, ever to call me here, at home, on the landline especially!”

“I know, I know. We need to meet.” Carolyn was still upset: about last night’s debacle, about Johnny’s lying about his wife’s looks, about Les’ deliberate sabotage, about her fear of being found out, Johnny’s near-drunk front door behavior and, of course, about being so horny.

Crafty Johnny knew which was paramount. “Meet me at the same motel in an hour. I’ll text you the room number.”

To the untrained eye, the sight of the Carolyn-Johnny union might have imagined military spouses? Or newlyweds on a low budget honeymoon? Lovers meeting for the first time à la online dating ritual? Or last chance before somebody is executed?

Neither Carolyn nor Johnny gave a fuck about the odor in the unscrubbed bathroom, the aroma of the gas station fried chicken to be consumed later, or both’s soaked outerwear. Or gawkers’ pointing from the burger joint across the parking lot.

She mock-scolded, “You smell like wet wool, or wet dog to be more exact.” Then, softened her tone to, “Get that wet woolen sweater off, and your shirt too. Just get naked!” He could hear the urgency in her voice.

The naked man lay on the bed, on top of the double bed duvet. He propped his head up with both pillows, his feet splayed out, given his lover enough room to crawl between those legs. She knee-walked so that her knees touched his. She made one mistake: she looked into his eyes. She saw lust, yes. Lots of that. But she also saw a smug grin that told her he was in charge, not only of her body, but also her life.

Carolyn second-guessed herself, “Maybe he is just horny, like me. Somebody’s gotta be in charge, so okay, it’s him.”

Just as her lips were a fraction of an inch away from his mushroom dickhead, he ordered her, “Go to work.”

She did. She started at the base of his balls, flattening her tongue to cover both balls and moved her head up in a nodding motion. The tongue reached the underside of his larger-than-her-husband’s dick, then the tongue went back down toward the balls. Johnny let her tease him two more times and his mushroom head craved attention and pre-cum oozed.

Johnny grabbed her by her hair and ears at the same time and positioned her mouth where he wanted it.

“Go to work, goddamnit!” She felt his engorged prick push through her lips. Usually, he enjoyed her oral ministrations: she would keep just the head in her mouth, using her artful tongue to circle the head, letting the tip of her tongue tickle her lover’s corona. She’d seen a film where the camera followed the tip of a tongue extending from the dickhead, swirling around several times.

Not so, this time. She felt the shaft move across her lips and the dickhead probe her gullet. One more shove that she wasn’t ready for and he was deep throating her. Instead of withdrawing, he went deeper.

Carolyn knew she’d lost her concentration. Yes, the room smelled bad, but Johnny obviously had not bathed. Whiffs of beer sweat, pungent foods and urine invaded her senses.

She raised her head but kept hold of the fat dick that given her so much pleasure. Up and down she went, spitting for lubrication, coming off to milk pre-cum, then back to work.

For perhaps the first time in her life, she thought, “I am a whore.”

“BACK TO WORK!” The words bounced around the echo chamber of her psyche.

There could be two types of women in the world: those that got off on being called names while fucking and those that resent it. Carolyn was of the latter group.

Through the fog of sucking on a long, hot, slick dick, she began to enjoy being a whore.

This time, he said, “Do your job, you married whore slut. A good cocksucker can feel what the guy needs, what feels good, how to do a proper blow job. Dance on my dick. Make your mouth a fuckhole.”

The woman’s demeanor was transformed. She did what her john told her to do. When she raised her head up, his groin chased her. At just the right time, she let him catch her and down she went, this time deeper down her throat than before. His dick pursued her again. This time, he thrust even higher, grunting.

By then she was getting hot as well. She leaned over him to whisper, “You know how wet you are making me? Fuck me with your fingers. I’ll tell you when it’s enough.”

Johnny’s long arms were able to reach under her and put three fingers in her pussy, using his thumb to massage her clit. She could have taken the whole fist. She started to gyrate on his hand. The fluids of pure need ran down his fingers and that just got her more excited.

She crawled up and straddled him. When she sat upright, he smeared her juices on one of her tits, then on the other. Two actions happened simultaneously. One was Carolyn lowering herself onto the erect pole beneath her. She was damp enough for the head to pop inside her. As she settled in, he grabbed her tits, one in each palm and milked them, pulling her close to him. When she leaned in the slightest bit, he shoved his dick deeper into her. He pulled again on her tits and she rocked forward. That brought a merciless pounding.

Johnny moved his hips to one side then the other, stretching her and using her vaginal opening as a fulcrum. That was all both needed. Within three minutes of penetration, both partners reached that mutual frenzy, making time stand still. They locked themselves together, never to separate.

Of course, they did separate. Later, she made him take a shower. She freshened up as well, then they talked while eating greasy fried chicken with no sides. Johnny brought no beer, so they drank spigot water out of plastic cups.

Her lover was going to Chicago next week, but she had to stay close to the office.

He promised to never, ever call her house again. She advised, “Get a drug dealer phone at the minimart. Tell me the number and if I see a caller ID with that number, I’ll get back in touch.”

Her boss then said, “Better yet, about next week, I’ll send you some paperwork to review at home. You won’t even have to come in to the office.”

He was vague about the party. “It might happen next weekend or maybe not. Renatta wants to create the guest list herself. I’ve got to let her do something and party organizing is right up her alley.”

On the drive back home, Carolyn realized her lover had not inquired as to what excuse she’d given to get away. And that ‘Back to Work’ routine reminded her how tenuous her position was. And now, she was not to return to the shop!

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If we still assume there are two types of people, chess players and checker players, Les was in it for the long game of chess. He knew his wife had been unfaithful. Her boss had denigrated Renatta’s appearance, probably to assuage Carolyn’s concerns. Yet, the lady was a body double for Carolyn!

Les knew that he could not reveal what he knew to Renatta or Johnny or Carolyn. Squealing on the lovers would mean his wife would be out of a lucrative job. Yes, Johnny’s marriage would suffer, but he had no idea what kind of arrangement(s) they already had in place. Les dedicated himself to learning as much as he possibly could about Carolyn’s employer: what cracks in the business could he use to complete his grand plan. Les did make several resolutions: no sexual contact with his wife; consult a good lawyer; copy and archive all her correspondences, business-related as well as sexual. Les considered it a brilliant move to manufacture a reason for a visit to the wife’s worksite. Send an engraved Thank You Note to Mr. and Mrs. Johnny for the party invitation: be sure to mention that you look forward to the soiree next weekend. Follow up the note with a phone call mid-week.

Johnny was not around when Les and Carolyn showed up the following Saturday night. They’d been delayed and did not arrive until the party was in full swing. He’d let Renatta do the guest list and assumed ‘that woman’ or ‘that couple’ were excluded. But they were invited. Renatta and Les had chatted twice and he was his charming self.

By ten o’clock that Saturday night, Carolyn’s giddiness had declined into silliness. Johnny came across her in a narrow hallway and sensed his awkwardness. She was confused as to the reason for his evasion, so she gave him a too-tight hug and he’d retreated. She’d done her duty, from home, all week long. The reports she’d filed and her opinions on critical cases were praised by the office staff he chatted with. Johnny found a quick reason to be excused. Carolyn was, by then, oblivious to any ulterior motive.

She knew something was afoot at work when a guy she knew casually said that he appreciated Les making sure that all was okay. He seemed just as wasted as she was.

Les had gone into Carolyn’s job site and told the guy, “I work around the corner and just wanted to see if there were any pressing problems I could bicycle home for my bride.”

Carolyn roamed the house, looking for her husband or her lover. Another pair of targets were those two snippy bitches who could ruin the evening, if not her whole life.

There they were: Renatta, Les, two bitches and the dude she’d met just now. As she approached the circle, Les spotted his wife; he continued his rapt attention on Renatta’s story of how her parents had stumbled upon a brilliant idea that became ‘the company’ Carolyn worked for.

Like a lioness watching her mate being pursued by female suitors, Carolyn took it all in. The guy was probably gay, not making a move on either young lady or his boss’ wife. The women asked general questions about Les and Carolyn, then one of the bitches started in on Les’ job and how the married couple dealt with all that travel Carolyn and Johnny had to do.

Carolyn rued her drinking too much, “Fuck. I shouldn’t have had anything to drink tonight. Now I am going to miss the perfect opportunity to set these nosy bitches straight!”

Yes, she was high enough to include Renatta in the group of three. She might as well had included the dude as well because his effeminate nature began to show through his over-imbibing as well.

Les was straight and in control of the evening. By midnight, his target stumbled through the door and put his arms around Renatta and Carolyn. Neither looked pleased but Les saw a force in his wife’s lover’s bearing that explained a lot.

Les’s father was an alcoholic, sober the last years of his life. One more bit of ‘Two Types of People’ wisdom his dad brought to his son was ‘There is nothing more disgusting than a sober when you’re drunk or a drunk when you are sober’.

Guests were beginning to leave. Not Les. He took himself on a tour of his wife’s employer’s home. The stairs reminded him of that grand staircase in ‘Gone with the Wind’ that Scarlet O’Hara used with to such effect. People were coming up and down, so he decided to investigate upstairs too. It was clear, Johnny and Renatta slept in separate beds, in separate rooms. He noted, there was no en-suite bath between the two living quarters, not even a private path between the marriage beds.

Most of the doors were open and the artwork was exceptional.

He thought, “Either they have great taste in art or the place was professionally furnished.”

He was studying a model of an old sailing vessel encased in a glass cube. He knew enough about vintage sailing ships and flags to know this one flew the Hanseatic League colors of Pomerania, then a part of Poland.

He heard a door open, but was so intent on studying the model that she surprised him.

“Interested in ship models, Les?” He recognized Renatta’s voice.

He turned to see her, as if for the first time. She was a body-double of Carolyn, but held herself more erect. He realized she must have just come from her bathroom.

She sounded like a lecturer at a university, saying, “My father was a guard at a POW camp near here, back during the war. A German sailor made that out of chicken and pork bones they served in the prisoners’ food. Quite creative, eh?”

“Yes, a masterpiece,” Les responded. “How did your dad come by such a piece?”

She sounded eager to talk, but also eager to get the speech over with. She must have recited it dozens of times before.

“After the war, the prisoners were free to go home. This guy was from Dresden and it had been firebombed, leveled. He had no place to go home to. My father offered to buy the ship, so here it is.”

Her guest nodded and commented, “The flag she flies is Pomeranian, which is German now, but the flag is historically accurate as being from a then-Polish nation.”

“I’m impressed. My dad said this prisoner claimed to be a non-combatant. His story was, ‘I’m just a guy who got picked up by the Americans at the wrong time and wrong place.’ But he did have a German uniform on, so they shipped him to us.”

“Such a learned person, you are, Les.” She spoke those words after checking out the hallway (empty at the moment) and gestured him to come into her bedroom.

Les was more impressed with the special silent door locks that closed without a whisper.

Renatta stepped into the veil between them, taking his right hand and placing it on her left breast.

She sighed, “God, your touch! Carolyn must love the feel of your hands on her body. You can take my other one by your other one.”

Neither party doubted the antecedents of the dual nouns ‘one’. Les complied and touched another woman’s tits for the first time in years. She melted into him, their mouths finding each other quickly, softly, then eagerly.

“Tomorrow, Sunday, at noon. Be here. Johnny has a golfing date.”

Les stuttered, “I can’t. Church.”

She spoke into his mouth, but his ears heard, “Two then.”

“Okay, after church, two.”