Double Entrée or Something

Chapter 18

I was so finished with Tom. Lying to my face about loving me and always being there for me. I could barely stand to look at him. After he left the house I got up the courage to call Rick for comfort. He rushed to my side and "comforted" me all afternoon at "our" hotel until I could barely walk. We took a break and went to dinner at a fancy restaurant in a nearby town.

He held my arm as we crossed the slippery parking lot to the restaurant and held the door for me. It was busy and they had us wait in a bar lounge while a table opened up for us. He ordered a whiskey sour, and I got a Margarita. When the drinks arrived, I joked, “Does this mean you aren’t going to be a gentleman tonight?”

He looked up, grinning, and said, “Why, do you like it when I’m not a gentleman?”

“I adore it. As sweet as you are outside of the bedroom, you are one fabulous not a gentleman in the bedroom. I’ve never been so horny in my life,” I confessed with the glow from our afternoon still pulsing off my cheeks.

Wiggling his eyebrows he said,” Really? Now, that calls for another drink!”

“Here, here!” I raised my glass to his suggestion, and he ordered another round before they moved us to a free booth in a cozy corner of the restaurant.

The waiter brought our menus and a basket of freshly baked Italian bread with dipping oil. I was like a kid in a candy store. The menu was fabulous. ‘Shrimp Agostino, Calamari (3 ways), fettuccine Alfredo, Spaghetti with lobster sauce, clam sauce, marinara, meatballs, sausage, you name it, gnocchi in garlic butter sauce, lasagna, cavatina, Italian Wedding soup’, okay, you get the idea. There were too many choices and we had to send the waiter away twice to make up our minds.

I decided on the Chicken Marsala with antipasto on the side. Rick got the Lasagna, and we shared an order of Fried Calamari. Once again, we were not fit to eat around other human beings, as we shoveled the food into our mouths, making sounds that sounded much like our lovemaking noises, and sharing forkfuls of each other’s meals.

As I was bringing a fork loaded with antipasto to my lips I almost fell out of the booth. Staring at me from across the room was a startled-looking blonde woman, face frozen in horror. Now there were two startled-looking women with frozen faces in the room. Holy shit. Marcia was staring at me, not sure of what was going on, and looking extremely uncomfortable. Miss Boobie was sitting almost on top of Tom’s boss at the insurance company, spooning something from the dessert tray into Ned Wesson’s stupid mouth.

Hmm. How very interesting. Wonder why Ned’s wife Dotty wasn’t with him? So, that explains Tom’s happiness to see me yesterday. His after-hours ‘work’ had been taken over by another man, and he needed a quick replacement to let off steam. Or perhaps he didn’t know yet. Rick looked up from his lasagna, with a little bit of tomato sauce clinging to his mustache, which I leaned over and swiped away with my napkin.

“What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s going on, Tanya?” He said, finishing my clean-up job with his own napkin.

“Across the room is my husband’s girlfriend and the owner of the company they work for. She’s either doing them both or Tom’s done, and the owner is in.”

“Oh, boy. What’s going to happen when Tom finds out about us?” Rick asked.

“I’m willing to bet the cost of this meal he’ll never hear of this, at least not from them,” I assured him, delighted with the irony of it all. “Which one is going to tell him, his boss, who is also married and boinking the secretary or the boinked secretary, who is supposed to be boinking my husband,” I chuckled.

“Wow. Tanya, you’re just evil. I think you gave me a hard-on just now. Let’s pay the bill and get out of here,” he joked.

Then again, maybe he wasn’t joking, as when he brushed against me while helping me into my coat, I thought for a moment he was packing heat. I hoped he had a concealed carry permit for that weapon. He high-tailed it back to the hotel. When I pulled my phone out to check my messages, I had a dozen annoying emojis from Tom and half a dozen real messages from my friends in the book club asking for the date and time of Mother’s funeral.

Bless their hearts. My book club, not Tom. What an asshole. Now he wants to know where I am every minute of the day. Now he is concerned about me and now he wants me to think he’s going to be a real husband. I didn’t buy it. Too late, pal. Sorry you lost your mistress, but that’s the way the blonde cookie cheats. Now you have no one.

Rick quickly escorted me back to the hotel, anxious for another round of comforting me. We tumbled into the room, and I beat him to the bathroom first, cleaning myself up and replacing the Chicken Marsala sauce with lipstick. Then I freshened up the old girl for another rodeo. Rick took his time and came out in the buff. Yes, indeed, he did have a concealed weapon in his pants, and I knew for a fact that it was loaded.

I laid back on the bed and invited him to undress me. He followed orders well. Good, because I had a list of them for him that night. He took everything off me slowly, except for my bra and stockings, and played peek-a-boo with my nipples for quite a while before taking them into his mouth one at a time.

“You know,” he said around a mouthful of pink, “I always dreamt of being a mountain climber and I’m about to climb all over these beautiful mountains of yours.”

“Just don’t use a pickaxe, promise?” I joked before he spent the next ten minutes giving my breasts more attention than they'd had since high school when a few of my classmates got to second base with me after pestering and arguing. No argument here, though, as I loved every moment of his fondling and caressing. By the time he was finished with my breasts, I was writhing on the bed panting, and ready to go. He was breaking records with me that I didn’t even know existed. One, two, three, four in a row and begging him for more. Who the hell was this woman?

That was one area I never considered Tom to be lacking in. This week, however, changed my opinion of how satisfying our married sex life had been all these years. Maybe Tom was great, and Rick was just one of those men. I didn’t know and at that moment I didn’t care. I just wanted more.

By the time we broke up the fight, it was almost two in the morning. Much too late to be driving home. Darn. So, I didn’t. We woke in the morning, legs and arms intertwined and so close you couldn’t have wedged a piece of note paper between us. Talk about a cuddler. My lady parts were tender after the entire weekend, so I begged off a morning wake-up call with his high-caliber weapon and promised him a doozy of a reception the next time we met.