A Wife's Affair: Part One

Abigail waited on the couch, still in the same silk robe, listening for the front door. Manolo finally shoved it shut without a word, off to the docks again. She dialed, receiver already tight to her ear. Vanessa answered on the first ring. Her husband was out, too—always was. Abigail murmured a time, nothing more, then hung up. Five minutes later Vanessa stood at the back door, clutching her keys like she might leave again. Abigail didn’t wait. She grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and hauled her inside, lips smashing Vanessa’s before they reached the hall. They fucked on the kitchen floor first, hard enough the lip of the counter hammered Vanessa’s spine every time Abigail drove her fingers inside. Vanessa came with a raw, bitten-off sound, then yanked Abigail’s robe open and buried her tongue between Abigail’s thighs. Abigail grabbed a fistful of dark hair, rode the mouth like she owned it, hissed yes until her knees shook. They moved to the bedroom, pieces of clothing left wherever they fell. Vanessa spread Abigail out on the sheets, slicked two fingers back into her cunt, and sucked hard on the swollen clit until Abigail jerked and cursed. They kissed through the aftershock, taste of one mixing with the other, wet and hungry. By late afternoon the covers were tangled around their waists. Abigail draped a bare leg over Vanessa’s, murmuring that she’d already told Manolo she wanted out. Vanessa stayed quiet, staring at the ceiling fan, fingers drawing idle circles around Abigail’s nipple. Abigail kissed her throat, whispered that no man was worth the waiting anymore. When Vanessa finally straddled Abigail’s thigh and ground down, sweat and spit and come slick between them, she met Abigail’s eyes and nodded—sharp, certain. Her hips rolled hard; her hand slipped between Abigail’s legs again. They came together one last time, no words left. Just slick bodies, and the sure knowledge that husbands were gone.