No Ordinary Affair (9 page)

He laughed. “With this economy who knows what stable is anymore,” he laughed. “And if all goes well I plan to be happy in my job starting first things tomorrow. After all, it’s as much about attitude as anything else.”

“Yes it is,” I thought.

Later we went upstairs and made love. Still worried about my bottom, I made sure the lights were out and Mark, ever accommodating and glad to have the attention, didn’t complain about it. It would be a week before the marks faded away, but the memory of the affair? Well, I’m still dealing with that.

I suppose you’re wondering how that all panned out. After all, you only got a glimpse of my farewell to Ethan Willoughby at the beginning of my story.

I didn’t see him the next day. It was the weekend and I didn’t work weekends. I didn’t see him Monday. My two days off with Mark had been the best we’d shared since our marriage began, and I felt I was finally starting to sort things out. Instead I called in at work to ask
Miss Parsham
if she’d mind my taking two days off to visit my sister in Kent.

She grumbled and complained and tried to make me feel terrible for calling her on such short notice, but in the end acquiesced and wished me a good visit, which was only fair given that I’d never even taken a sick day.

My visit with Sally made me feel much better. I did not tell her what I did and I knew early on that resisting the urge to confess would be a constant struggle. And it has been. However, when weighed against the cost of disrupting our lives I believe carrying the burden is the least I can do for Mark. And for myself. So every night I ask myself, and God, for forgiveness and commit myself anew to my marriage.

As for Ethan Willoughby, I had convinced myself that he was little more than a player and I was little more than a pawn. I imagined him smirking when he found the ledger gone, and then moving on to replace me with one of the many other discontented village wives.

So when a note arrived at the office addressed to me – a note that turned out to be from Mr. Willoughby - I was genuinely surprised by the intensity of its tone.

“Dear Mary,” it read. “What can I say other than I’m sorry. When I saw you drive off last week I was devastated to think I had hurt you and I can only imagine what you think of me. And while I know I have no right to ask this of you, would you please meet me Tuesday evening on the corner by the Fox and Goose Tavern? It’s quite public so you don’t have to worry that I’ll try anything. I just want to see you one last time. I’ll not ring you at work and will simply trust you to show up at eight o’clock if you agree. Fondly, Ethan Willoughby.”

Miss Parsham
was dying to know who sent the note.

“Just a man who appreciated my help with a gift selection,” I said. “Nothing more.” But I could tell by her glare and subsequent silent treatment that Mrs. Parhsam felt slighted at not being allowed to read it. But I didn’t let that bother me. She’d get over it. She always did.

I suppose Ethan wanted his ledger back. I’d taken it with me to my sister’s and looked at it in the privacy of my room. I wasn’t surprised to find that his student “roll” listed not just my name but the names of other women in the town – Amanda, Helen and a number of others I knew by sight if not personally. Beside them he’d written the types of punishment he’d given each of us, as well as “traits.” I, apparently, was the “smart” one. He’d also given us a grade and I could only assume it was for sexual performance. I got the highest mark in the class; it was not a distinction I was proud of and I threw the ledger in my sister’s pond. Professor Willoughby, I told myself, would just have to understand.

I went back and forth over whether to meet him, but in the end decided I needed this one last test, if nothing else so I could prove to myself that I did not need him, did not want him, did not care about what he had to offer.

It was raining that night, a steady, cold rain. I half expected him not to show up, but he was there.

“I know what you must be thinking,” he said when he saw me.

“I seriously doubt that, Ethan,” I said. “And even if you did I doubt you’d care. It was all just a game to you.”

“No it wasn’t, Mary,” he said. “You were different.”

“Please,” I said, disgusted at hi
m, disgusted at myself for ever
believing in him.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” he said. “All I ever wanted to do was to make you dreams come true – yours and theirs. Was that so wrong?”

“Yes,” I said. “We’re married women. You’re lucky no one got physically hurt, Ethan. Broken hearts are one things. Broken bones are better.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m careful to choose..
.
” His voice trailed off.

“Let me guess,” I offered. “You choose women who are dissatisfied, but not so dissatisfied that they’d risk their marriages to expose you or themselves.”

He looked down. “Something like that.” Then his eyes met mine. “Still, you have to admit it wasn’t all bad.”

“No,” I said. “But it was bad enough that I’ll never forgive myself, Ethan. What I did was wrong and I’m not completely blaming you. I could have walked away, but at the same time you could have been honest. If you had been it would have made it easier to do.”

“Maybe I didn’t want you to walk away,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He took a step towards me. He was still so handsome in his overcoat, his rain-slick hair falling over his shoulders.

“I know I tell the women they’re different. It’s a line. So sue me. But you, Mary, you are different. Of all the others you were the only one who played the game in a way that made me not just enjoy it but believe it. You made it more real for me than it has ever been! It was fabulous with you. You’re so…genuine, so natural. When I was with you, I was Professor Willoughby!”

“No,” I said..

“Yes!” He reached out, taking my hands as his eyes searched mine.

“It doesn’t have to be a game, Mary. We could live like that 24/7. I’m lonely, Mary. I know I may not seem like it, but I am. When I said I wish I were lucky enough to have a lady like you I meant it. We’d be perfect together.”

“No,” I said again.

“Yes!” he said. “Just think about it! We understand one another. We could slip in and out of any role we liked. We could travel through time and be whatever we wanted to be for one another.”

I smiled sadly. “I believe that,” I said. “You’re right. We could be anything the other wanted, as long as it never became real. We’d have a lifetime of make believe without a genuine moment, Ethan. We could spend a lifetime together and never really get to know one another. And when we got too tired or old or sick to play, what then?”
 
I paused, looking at him. “What then, Ethan?”

His eyes became confused. “I don’t think like that,” he said.

“I know,” I replied. “But I do. That’s why I need a real man and not a playmate.”
 
I stepped away
.

“Goodbye, Ethan Willoughby.”

“So that’s it then? We’re finished, just like that?”

I looked at him standing there in the rain, distress etched into his handsome face. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look vulnerable, weak, out of control. And it was just how I wanted – no, needed – to remember him if I was to do what I knew I had to do.

“Yes,” I said. “We’re finished.”

He took a step towards me. “No.” And for a moment I wavered and nearly succumbed to the desire to fall before him and admit that he was right, that I needed him - to plead with him to take me back and punish me for even thinking I could be this strong.

But deep down I knew it would be a lie, just another part of what had become an intoxicating, addictive game I could no longer play

“Yes,” I said. “We’re finished Ethan. You always told me, didn’t you, that I was capable of being a good girl?” Tears welled in my own eyes now. “Well, here’s my chance.”

Suddenly, like a small gift from a twisted patron saint of unfaithful wives, something coalesced in my mind.  I remembered Miss Parsham's confusion when I showed her the paddle, her near certainty that she'd never seen it before.  I remembered, too, how quickly Ethan, who supposedly was browsing, had returned to the counter. Distracted as I was by doing a good job on the gift-wrap, I hadn't really noted it at the time, but he had not been out in the store for more than two minutes... if that.

Miss Parsham might forget what she had for breakfast, but she knew everything in her shop.  If truth be told, I wasn't far behind.  And yet, Ethan had just chanced to find, in barely two minutes, an item that neither of us remembered at all?  How likely was that?

Miss Parsham thought she'd never seen the paddle before because she never had.  It wasn't in the box of schoolmaster's things.  Ethan had brought it into the shop with him, under his coat.  I thought about confronting him, accusing him, but then I realized:  Why bother?

I turned and walked back home – for good - to where my unsuspecting husband was waiting for me.

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This book is intended for adults only.  Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.  Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

Chapter One

“Mommy, why can’t you come to my Christmas play?”

Laura McCaffrey looked down at the adorable face of her five-year-old son and felt her heart lurch.

“Because, Evan, Mommy has to work. It’s the busiest time of the year and we have bills to pay.” She glanced over at the growing stack on the kitchen counter, the source of the gnawing, ever-present worry in her stomach. “You remember what Mommy told you? That this is the busiest time of year for her?”

“Well, I think it’s stupid,” the little boy grumbled. “Why can’t pe
ople just do their own shopping?
”

Laura stuffed her son’s Thermos into his lunch box and zipped it shut. “Because some people are very busy and don’t have time.” Now finish your toast. “The bus will be here in a few minutes.”

Outside it was bitter cold. Laura could have watched Evan and his friends board the bus from her apartment window, but she was too protective for that. As always, she stood on the walk, her breath coming in steamy spurts, until her bundled-up son and his friends had managed to board the bus that would take them to Little Friends Day School.

The tuition bill from the school was among those sitting on her counter. Her ex-husband had promised to pay it by last Tuesday. When the money hadn’t come she broke down and called him. His new girlfriend answered the phone and when she heard Laura’s voice slammed the receiver down on the counter and called for Clay. “It’s her,” she said.

Clay had told her not to worry, he’d send the tuition money by Saturday. Today was Monday and still there was no money. If she didn’t have it by Friday, Evan would have to leave Little Friends and the only friends he had ever known.

Laura turned and walked back into her apartment building, stopping by Mr. Harker’s apartment first to give him the rent before going back to the warmth of her flat.

Pouring herself another cup of tea, she sat down to make her list. She’d had several packages to wrap and deliver before meeting her newest client --what was his name again
?
She picked up her day planner and flipped to the Post-It note she’d pressed into the December section.

“Maximus Greenway.” The named sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. The man’s receptionist had called her and scheduled an appointment for 11:30 a.m. It was a downtown address; that meant a big, lucrative account.

But she knew if she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it. After a quick shower, she towel-dried and brushed her long brunette hair and let it air dry as she wrapped presents - a pair of size 6 Ugg boots, a cashmere wrap and nine sets of Cross pens, for Mrs. Tighlman, a bleach-blonde new money socialite who lived in The Gables, a gated community just outside of town. Putting the gifts into a labeled bag and quickly jotted out an invoice, taking careful note to add the gift wrap fee before stapling a copy of the Ms. Tighlman’s charge account receipts onto the corner.