Though stuck in a dull marriage, Linda had never contemplated being unfaithful to her husband. In 20 years of marriage, she had never looked at another man. That was… Until her friend Debbie got a divorce.

Debbie the Divorcee took to the dating scene like there was no tomorrow. She came over for coffee at Linda’s house and did indeed spill the beans.

She had profiles on several dating-sites and after a bit of chatting and emailing she went on dates and had sex with men. In all kinds places and with men of all shapes, forms and sizes (!).

And she was an intimate friend indeed – she spared Linda no detail.

Linda listened wide-eyed, shocked, curious, appalled, intrigued and sometimes even a little bit turned on.

Debbie would tell of sex in all kinds of positions (“All those years of yoga finally paid off – last week I did ‘Downward Facing Dog’ with a lawyer who had the biggest cock I have ever seen!”, Debbie crudely confessed). In apartments, parking lots,  hotels, bar restrooms ( “Perhaps not so classy, but definitely sassy”, said Debbie while laughing hoarsely at the memory), public parks and even – on one occasion – in a movie theather. (“I was eating popcorn while he was eating me!”  It had sent Debbie into hysterics when Linda had asked, innocently: “What movie did you watch?”)

Though quite frankly a bit appalled by Debbie’s candor and conduct, it was hard not to notice how great she looked. Her skin was clear, she had her hair cut in a cute bob and all that sex and male attention helped rid her of those annoying extra pounds the years in an unsatisfying marriage had provided her with. It was like she was just tuned into a different frequency all of a sudden. Sex was everywhere and she perpetually walked around with an expression not unlike one to be found on a cat with a canary feather sticking out of its mouth.

She would pour more milk in her coffee, lean over to Linda and in a low voice say: “If I had known that there were so many sexy men out there, I would thrown that bastard out YEARS ago!”

All this commotion left its mark on Linda. She was yanked out of her dull routine and suddenly saw her life in a very bright and unflattering light.

She remembered when she had first met Jack. He used to be such a firecracker. He used to make her laugh so hard. He used to fuck her silly.

She glanced over at him.

He was watching a baseball game, balancing a can of beer on his protruding gut while belching loudly. Firecracker? More like buttcracker!!

As the weeks passed, a foggy outline of a plan began taking shape in Linda’s head. Just for the hoot of it, merely for fun, she would make a profile on one of the dating sites. She got excited. She would NEVER cheat on Jack but what could possibly be the harm in gathering one’s appetite out as long as one ate dinner at home?

So one night, Jack gone bowling with his work-buddies, after finishing the better part of a bottle of wine, she placed herself in front of the computer. She frankly could not remember when she had last been this excited. ( OK, honestly? It was 12 years ago when she got a new sewing maschine for Christmas.)

She was guided through all the steps and filled out the entire form. She stayed close to the truth about her physical features although she did perhaps weigh a bit more than indicated on the form. Naturally, she didn’t post a picture of herself.

It was a hoot. She was sending off the real her. The sassy, quick-witted girl she still was. She felt herself come back to life. She then held her breath and pressed: “Publish”. She was online!

In the weeks that followed the mails came pouring in. Flattered, excited, flushing, holding her breath then panting. She was reading through the piles of emails from men, who wanted to get to know her better. Some were obviously looking for a quick roll in the hay while others were more serious. One profile in particular caught her attention. He was smart, he was funny and according to his self-description, he looked like “Tarzan Meets An Accountant”.

She send him a short mail. Just saying “hi”, and “thanks for writing. What are you up to?”

He answered just 5 minutes later and she answered back and thus a connection was made.

They had amazing chemistry. She would sit by her computer and laugh out loud at his mails. He was hilarious, warm and smart. Divorced, no kids. She claimed to be separated. When it came time to shut down her computer and leave work to go home, she dragged her heels.

At home, she would glace longingly at the computer in the corner of the living room, lit up by the light from the TV-screen, where Jack was watching “Frasier”, eating pop-corn – which only reminded her of Debbie’s popcorn s-experience. The thought of Tarzan doing anything like that to her made her quiver with longing as she shot another glance at the computer.

Soon their dialoge went from funny and rather innocent to more raunchy.

One day he asked what she was wearing and she said “Chocolate-colored lace bra and a g-string” even though she was really wearing the more economic, comfortable and hygienic Fruit of the Loom white cotton briefs.

After work she stopped by the mall and went into Victoria’s Secret and got herself the sexiest lingerie she had ever owned.

As she entered the front door, Jack had prepared her favorite – taco soup – and the bad conscience made her cheeks blush. Hidden in her big purse by the many layers of junk and gum-wrappers and papers and hairbands was the sinful bag of goodies from Victoria’s Secret. It seemed to scream: SHE’S A SLUT!!!

Absent-minded as he was, Jack didn’t notice that she hardly touched her dinner. They made small-talk about little nothings. She cleared the kitchen and took a long hot bath. The shower-head did its thing. It was release but she wasn’t satisfied.

She knew now that she wanted him. She thought about him all the time and fantasized about him day and night. She hardly got any work done, she was so busy chatting with Tarzan.

So finally, they agreed to meet. Friday! Eight o’clock at the very busy and anonymous bar in the next town. No one would know her there. She “could be recognized by her red sweater” while he“would be wearing a dark blue suit”.

It took forever to get to Friday. She told Jack a lie about having to go to a bridal shower for someone at work and made 40 cupcakes with white frosting to cement her alibi. It was bowling-night so she wouldn’t be missed at home.

She didn’t sleep, she didn’t eat. She counted the hours.

When Friday finally arrived, she was a wreck. At work, she was late for two meetings and completely forgot about a third. She went out for coffee and came back with duct tape. She was breathing shallowly and her stomach was almost queasy. The very sexy underwear  kept crawling up her ass in a not so sexy way and her feet hurt from the unaccustomed heels but the red sweater was tight and the restroom mirror confessed that she looked great.

After work she drove out to the lake where she sat for a few hours in her car and for the first time in 18 years, she smoked a cigarette. Well, not just one. The cigarettes calmed her nerves although they hurt her throat. After having dumped 40 beautiful white cup cakes in the garbage can, she started the engine and pulled out.

As she pulled into the parking lot of the bar, she almost left again. She sat in her car, thinking “I’m an adulteress, I’m an adulteress”. Still. So be it. She HAD to see this guy.

She was shaking as she crossed the parking lot, her heels making noise against the gravel. She took at deep breath and opened the door.

She scanned the room and found him. He was standing with his back towards her – she recognized a blue suit and in a split second had the time to think “Yes, very Tarzan meets an Accountant”.

And just as he turned around and she saw his eyes light up from recognizing her red sweater, she saw whom she was meeting.





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3 Responses to This Really Happened, Part 4

  1. Wabbit says:

    “what could possibly be the harm in gathering one’s appetite out as long as one ate dinner at home?”

    There are now women filling out eHarmony profiles and gathering their appetites. Let’s hope their cupcakes at home lives up to the moment.

  2. Cindafuckingrella says:

    It hurt me too when she threw all those beautiful cupcakes out…

  3. […] This Really Happened, Part Four  […]

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