Opulence (11 page)
MadHatter:
What are you doing here?
I froze, feeling completely busted. I shook my embarrassment off quickly. I had knocked on the damn door, so far so good, why the hell not? I typed my reply.
Blue_Alice:
Looking.
MadHatter:
For what?
Blue_Alice:
Anything but what I’m doing.
There, honesty. Honesty was good.
MadHatter:
Why so blue, Alice? Bored housewife?
Blue_Alice:
Fuck you.
MadHatter:
So I’m assuming I’m correct?
Blue_Alice:
Maybe, what the hell does it matter?
MadHatter:
We don’t do married here.
Blue_Alice:
I am getting a divorce.
MadHatter:
That’s not a new one.
Blue_Alice:
Keep your boring ass chat room.
MadHatter:
Temper, temper.
Blue_Alice:
I could do a better job turning people on than this bullshit.
MadHatter:
Wow, you really need a thick cock in that sassy mouth.
Blue_Alice:
And I suppose you’re the one who will be giving it to me?
MadHatter:
Why not me?
I felt my cheeks grow hot and took a deep breath. Okay, now we are talking here.
Blue_Alice:
Fine…talk to me.
MadHatter:
Why are you here?
Blue_Alice:
You already asked me that.
MadHatter:
And you didn’t give me a good enough answer.
I thought about it. Going into this with honesty would be the only way I would truly get what I wanted. But is this what I wanted? What if he was some nasty, fat perv with bad skin and greasy hair? Then again, he may have thought I was some nasty troll with a huge gut and overgrown forest in my pants. I shook my head, indignant at my own stereotyping.
Not cool, Vi.
This whole scenario meant taking a chance. I had been teetering on the edge of this for years, if I was honest with myself. I wanted to be fucked ruthlessly, worshipped and tortured, brought to levels of sexual awareness I’d only dreamed about. I was sure, no positive, I had an undiscovered fetish or two. Honest, I’ll be honest.
Blue_Alice:
I want to explore a part of me I’ve kept hidden.
MadHatter:
Why?
Blue_Alice:
Because I don’t have anything to lose.
MadHatter:
That’s dangerous.
Blue_Alice:
That in itself is why I am interested. I want to be fucked in ways I’ve only imagined and I’m tired of only feeling half full. I have cravings and I’m ready.
A few minutes later, I was sure the conversation had ended, then a ping.
MadHatter:
I’ll be in touch.
Blue_Alice:
Wait!
Okay that seemed a little desperate.
MadHatter:
What?
Blue_Alice:
Who are you?
MadHatter:
I’m the guy with the thick cock you’ll be wondering about tonight while you play with your toys.
Blue_Alice:
Charming.
MadHatter:
I can be.
And he was gone, if it had even been a he. For all I knew, it could have been a she. This too fascinated me. I thought of women and my sexual boundaries when it came to them and decided one leap at a time. Although women appealed to me from the waist up, I had no desire to explore the waist down. Then again, I’d really never had the opportunity.
The next day, I brought my iPad on every single errand with the chat room queued up. He could see me, he knew I was waiting. I looked desperate, but I needed this! I felt it in every part of me. I needed to be sexually free. I’d slept with six men in my thirty-two years. Two one night stands, one when I was in college and the other right before I met my husband Alex. The rest were boyfriends and not one of them was a freak, well not in the sense that I wanted them to be. A few got me off with their mouth, but it wasn’t earth shattering. It was more or less a struggle and an enormous amount of effort with constant murmurs of “Are you close?” during what seemed to be rigorous work. So I rarely got off.
I had, as the mysterious messenger predicted, taken my toy to bed last night, imagining the man behind our brief chat. I was hot in a way I hadn’t been in months at the possibilities alone. This had to be explored. I felt like I was a sexual creature on the verge of finally introducing myself. Once I was home, I unpacked my groceries, praying for the fucking iPad to ping. Just ping! When I got nothing, I decided to forgo cooking and treated myself to dinner at Tubby’s, a nearby seafood restaurant on River Street. I sat on the balcony watching the boats glide down the river while the sun set. Couples passed by below me on the busy street holding hands and smiling while I dined alone. Minutes later I got my usual message from Alex letting me know he wouldn’t be home tonight and I rolled my eyes. Why did he even bother at this point? God, how I hated him.
Later at home, I thought about looking up some listings to show. I had a real estate license I rarely used and knew it was getting close to time to put it back to use. I was good at it, and I enjoyed it, but when my marriage fell apart I dropped it completely. I had stayed at home for a month solid after hearing Alex’s first conversation with one of his mistresses. I didn’t need to see anything. The prick had no issue talking openly with her behind his office door. If you are going to cheat, at least have the smarts and decency to hide it. The devastating thought that he didn’t care enough to hide is what really drove the knife into my heart. A few months after I had questioned him about his distance, I realized he had no intention of revealing his indiscretions to me. He was simply that fucking stupid. I heard every word he uttered to those women. It was eerily close to the way he used to speak to me. It hurt me horribly at first, now it just made my stomach turn. Why the fuck was I still here? What more reason did I need? He cheated, our marriage was over. I hated him. Why didn’t I just ask for a divorce? PING!
A wave of adrenaline shot through me as I looked at the screen. It was an address. It was obvious why. It was an invitation and one that came way too soon for my comfort.
Well that would be a hell no. I wanted to at least have a conversation longer than a few short sentences before I agreed to a rendezvous.
Blue_Alice:
Hello?
No response came. I already knew the address would be my only message tonight. It was a challenge. He wanted to see what I was made of, if I was willing to step out of my comfort zone. All the reasonable reactions raced through me.
What kind of person barely introduces himself and then gives an address to a total stranger?
Then again, what kind of person tells a complete stranger they want to be fucked six ways from Sunday?
I stared at the address for what seemed like an eternity. Okay, I could drive by. What’s the harm? I would just look around, scope the place out. I could do this. Throwing my blanket off my legs and retiring my yoga pants, I took a scalding hot shower. I Googled the address with a towel wrapped around me, fear creeping into my thoughts. My search, of course, showed only results with possible directions. It had to be a home address. He gave me directions to his home? I shook off the towel, covered myself with scented lotion and took in my body. I had long legs and curvy hips, a little extra weight made them even more pronounced. My breasts were pushing a C-cup, and though they weren’t perfectly proportionate to my hips and ass, I was fine with them. I pulled out a thin black sheath dress that collared at the top, hugging my neck snugly, slipped on my spiked red heels and put on my best face. Thick eyelashes and perfectly painted red lips later, I ran my hands through my dirty blonde hair that I’d ironed straight. I was ready.
Two small glasses of wine and a mini-breakdown later, I corked my bottle and made my way to my car.
You can do this, Vi. You can also back out at any time.
My cell had no issues navigating the address. My screen map timed my trip to thirty minutes, and in thirty minutes I could be in the midst of possibly the best or worst situation of my life. Then again, I couldn’t imagine anything worse than the one I was already in.
I had enough heart left to give, I just didn’t give a damn enough to use it. This wasn’t about my heart; this was about a thirst I’d fought long enough. This would be good. This could be my something to look forward to.
Come on Violet, divorce is not death and you’ve got a lot of living to do.
Copyright © MJ Fields 2015
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st Edition Published: March 2015
Published by MJ Fields
Cover Design by: K23 Designs
Cover Model: Bryant Wood
Photographer: Furious Fotog
Editor: Veronica Park
Editor: Kellie Montgomery
Formatting: IndieVention Designs
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