Uncovering Helena
Authors: Kamilla Murphy
Uncovering Helena
Kamilla Murphy
Copyright 2014
All Rights Reserved
The New Year’s Eve party was at Ginnie and Lionel Wade’s
house last year, and that’s when I first saw it. My name’s Paul and I’ve
been married to Helena for ten years now. My wife was a gymnast in high
school and college, and with her baby face and four-foot-ten height people think
she’s younger than she is. She may be short, but ‘petite’ doesn’t fit her
body. In her thirties Helena is a curvy woman with D-cup breasts and
muscular thighs and glutes left over from her gymnastics days. She knows
how to use that body too. I was accustomed to seeing younger men hit on my
wife, not realizing her age and that she was married. I didn’t get pissed
off. She’d gently let them down with the truth, and I felt lucky to be
married to her.
One of her trademark signals was letting her hair down.
Helena has long, brunette hair and doesn’t like it down, usually wearing it in
a ponytail or tied up in a bun. She says she looks more professional that
way. However, when she wears it down she looks amazingly foxy, like a
Rubenesque Lolita. When she wears it down she’s telling me what she
wants. When she wears it down, those nights in bed are the best.
Still an hour away from midnight, what I saw was our host’s
hand up my wife’s dress while they sat on a sofa, and she not appearing to
mind.
Did I tell you her hair was down?
I didn’t have to guess what that hand was doing since
Helena’s mouth was open and some of her thick hair was stuck to her sweaty
face. How could everyone else
not
see what was going on?
Why I didn’t charge right over there and put a stop to the
mischief surprised me. Along with anger there was something
else—curiosity, arousal? I stood there with a drink in my hand and watched
until Lionel saw me, and like the guilty party he was he pulled his hand away
quickly and tried to look nonchalant. However, I saw his glistening wet
fingers. Now that Helena knew I’d seen them she worked at straightening
out her dress as well as her mussed hair. The only decision I had to make
at that moment was whether to ignore them or confront them. My reaction
was a blend of both. I went looking for Ginnie, Lionel’s wife.
As the party’s hostess, she was chatting with several
neighborhood women as I approached. Ginnie Wade was at least ten to
fifteen years older than us and not attractive as far as I was concerned.
In fact she was the direct opposite of my wife. Where Helena was cute,
petite and yet extremely curvy, Ginnie’s face was rather plain, with perhaps a
too-prominent, square jaw for my taste, with words such as ‘butch’ and
‘big-boned’ easily coming to mind. Maybe my perception was biased,
transferring my sudden dislike for Lionel onto his wife. I asked to speak
with her and maneuvered her away from the group.
She said, “What’s wrong, Paul? You look flushed. Food and
drinks okay?”
“Those are fine. It’s your husband who isn’t fine. I just saw
him feeling up my wife in the other room and I don’t like it.”
“Did you tell either one of them you didn’t like it?”
“No. I didn’t want to make a scene.”
“Let me tell you something, Paul. It’s no secret to me that
my husband has the sex drive of horny bull. He’ll chase any woman who gives a
signal that she wishes to be chased. I think you should talk to Helena before
doing or saying anything stupid.”
“You know he cheats and you let him?” I naively asked.
Ginnie laughed. “I don’t ‘let’ him do anything. He’s a
grown man who makes his own decisions. I make mine too. We both have our needs
and we take care of them. Maybe you should pay more attention to your wife’s
needs instead of my husband’s.”
As I walked away and went in search of Helena I thought about
what Ginnie had said. I knew I was an old-fashioned kind of guy. I
didn’t think about my needs except within the boundaries of my marriage. Loving
Helena took care of them, but was I meeting my wife’s needs? Then I began
thinking about the unthinkable. If Ginnie was so cavalier in condoning
Lionel’s fooling around, maybe it was because I was the only one who didn’t
know he was doing his fooling around with Helena.
She met me as I entered the Wade’s expansive living
room. Many of our friends were here, dressed elegantly for the holiday
and conversing in small groups, yet all I saw was Helena. Her cocktail
dress was mostly white with some splashes of navy blue as contrast. For
the gazillionth time I pondered how amazing she looked. The dress
accentuated her breasts without exposing them; the high hemline accentuating
her magnificently chiseled legs and the promise of what it was to lie between them.
Before I could say anything, she said “I’m sorry honey. I
guess I’ve had a few too many drinks and lost my sense of decency there for a
moment. Lionel was being nice and I didn’t realize what he was doing until he,
you know, touched me…”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“Like I said, maybe I’ve had too much to drink and lost my
concentration of who was sitting next to me on the sofa, and it did feel good.
I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?”
“Are you having an affair with him?” I blurted out.
I saw the hurt look in her eyes. “You don’t believe
me?”
“Seeing a man fingering my wife in public makes it difficult
to know what to believe.” I hadn’t realized my voice was raised until a
few folks around us stopped and stared. Helena took me by the arm and
suggested we go home right after toasting the New Year.
Later in bed neither one of us was in the mood so there
wasn’t any making-it-up-to-me that night.
***
Turning the calendar, our lovemaking returned to what I
thought of as normal. I still had difficulty feeling uplifted when Helena
seemed to be extra aroused and had multiple orgasms. Was she fantasizing
about being with someone else, like Lionel? What made things worse was
that Helena was becoming Ginnie Wade’s best friend and spent a lot of time at
her house. I thought of their friendship as some sort of bad influence on
Helena, and I couldn’t shake the vivid memory of Lionel Wade’s gleaming wet
fingers coming out from under my wife’s dress on New Year’s Eve.
Helena was always home from work before me, so one day in
late spring when I got home to find the house empty and she wouldn’t answer her
phone I walked down the block to the Wade’s house to see if she was
there. Maybe I hoped to ‘catch’ her with Lionel.
Lionel surprised me by answering the door wearing only a
long-tailed dress shirt and nothing else. His erection was hidden by the
shirt but the tent it made was quite obvious, as was the round wet spot in the
fabric where his cock-head was.
“You can see this isn’t a good time, Paul. What can I do for
you?”
Before I could ask about Helena, fearing the worst, Bethany
Moore, the eighteen-year-old daughter of a friend who lived near us came out of
what I knew to be a sun room and said, “Yeah, it’s shitty timing, Mr. Evian. I
was almost cumming.” The lithe blond was not concerned with being naked in
front of me, nor embarrassed by getting caught having sex with an older married
man.
“I’m looking for Helena,” shocked me finally said.
“Her and Ginnie went somewhere. And no, I don’t know where
though I obviously knew they’d be gone for a while.” He looked at Bethany
and grinned while his cock slipped out from behind his shirttails. I saw
how Bethany’s face changed when she looked at his semi-rigid manhood.
“Sorry for bothering you,” I said, “You can go back to doing
what you were doing. I’ll let myself out.”
Bethany yelped “Goodie!” as she dragged Lionel back to the
sunroom.
As I walked away from his door, I thought that at least it
wasn’t my wife in there getting it on with him. Bethany wasn’t the
brightest bulb in the chandelier but I believed the eighteen-year-old could do
a lot better than screw around with a married man. And without a condom!
To me that was worse than the sex itself and once again I worried about my
wife. Would she be stupid enough to have unsafe sex?
Before I left the property, I heard Bethany cry out that she
was cumming, and turned around in time to see Lionel—easily enough from the
driveway with the sunroom addition’s glass wall—arch his back and bellow.
I should’ve felt guilty for thinking Helena would be here and doing what
Bethany was doing, but now that I’ve witnessed Lionel’s basest nature, actually
fucking a teenager in his own house while his wife was out, my sense of worry
that my wife was doing the same wouldn’t go away.
***
I knew something wasn’t quite right with our sex life and my
imagination was running wild with the New Year’s party scene still indelibly
etched in my mind. When Helena came home from shopping with Ginnie one
day and proudly showed me the bikini she’d bought, I was flabbergasted.
“Why?” I asked. “Your one-piece wasn’t sexy enough? We
weren’t planning a beach vacation so where are you going to wear it?”
“Ginnie said you’d be like that,” she replied.
“Like what?”
“A prude.”
“I’m not a prude,” I protested.
“Then what is it? You say nice things about my body but do
you mean it?”
“Of course I do, my love. You’re the sexiest woman alive.”
“Then why don’t you show it?” she said, and I was
shocked. She was only getting started, it seemed. “I guess because
we’re married you don’t have to, but I get passes every day by all kinds of
men. It makes a woman feel desirable to be looked at that way. I
love you, Paul, but I wish you still lusted for and pursued me like when we
were single.”
“Is that what Lionel Wade was doing at New Year’s?” I felt
good saying it because I saw it hurt her, “Making you feel desirable since I
don’t do it enough? That’s Lionel, the virtuous man who fucks his teenage
neighbor as soon as his wife is out of the house.”
“That’s what I mean, talking about what other men do and
don’t do instead of being a man yourself. What happened at the Wade’s was an
alcohol-fueled mistake, but at least he tried, and don’t think that Ginnie
doesn’t know about the Moore girl or any of the others.”
“There are others?” I blurted out.
Helena laughed. “Of course there are. That man could
probably fuck 24-7 if someone would let him.”
“Have you…let him?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer, but I will
make a comment of my own. Lionel asked me to model the bikini for him as soon
as he knew I bought it. Why haven’t you asked me?”
“You’ve got it all figured out: I’m a prude, judgmental,
lacking in sensuality, and can keep it in my pants. So, what do you suggest I
do to change? Call Bethany Moore?”
“Forget it,” she said and walked to our bedroom in a huff,
waving the bikini in the air like a battle flag, which perhaps it was.
“I’ll wear it in Ginnie Wade’s back yard, by the pool. I’m sure Lionel will
appreciate it.” She closed the door with an adequate slam.
Okay, so I screwed up badly. I won’t apologize for the
way I felt about Helena and the Wades. Lionel’s fingering of my wife
wasn’t an illusion. Something definitely was going on and basically I
didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t about to surrender my wife but I
didn’t have it in me to be a Neanderthal either and go punch his lights
out. One thing I could do—after all I’m very good with electronics—was
set up a camera above the Wades’ pool fence as an ‘evidence’ gathering
tool. I have a couple of really good wireless cameras that I can activate
remotely, and which can transmit the distance to my house. One of them is
weatherproof and has a great long-life battery. It can be encrypted so no
one else except a determined hacker could receive the signal. What was
fortuitous was that Brad Healy and his wife, who owned the property that
abutted the Wades’ were gone for two weeks, giving me the opportunity to plant
the camera in one of their trees overlooking the Wades’ pool. Once I
confirmed what was going on with Helena I could confront them all and put a
stop to this baloney.
Ginnie called Helena on the next hot summer Saturday and
invited her over. Since the confrontation about the bikini, Helena and I
had sex only once, and that was pretty perfunctory though her orgasm wasn’t
faked, which actually made things worse for me because all I did was wonder who
she was fantasizing being with. At least today I got to see her in the
new bikini before she left the house.
“I’m sorry for everything, and I wish I’d seen you in that
when you bought it. It’s… you’re gorgeous, darling. Can I talk you
into staying home, and maybe…?” I said.
I might have accepted any look she gave me except the one of
pity I got. “Ginnie’s waiting. Maybe tonight?” Her tone told
me not to hold my breath. I almost said “Is Lionel waiting too?” but
thought better of it. I was going to activate the camera and that would
tell me everything.
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