The Other Woman (6 page)

“Take it off!” I demanded as I moved my hips in a circular motion, my arms around his head, our eyes locked.

“Another time,” he said in a thick voice. “Tomorrow. Night. Tomorrow…night.”

I rode him harder. “Pinkie promise?"

“Pinkie…promise…Scarlett…oh God!”

I hopped off when I felt him throbbing between my thighs. “The things I wanna do to you,” I said as I sat in my seat and fixed my clothes and hair.

He stared at me.

“What?”

He shook his head slowly, appearing at a loss for words. But the look on his face was similar to a person who narrowly escaped a motor vehicle accident.

“Straighten up,” I said.

Together, we straightened our clothing, fixed our hair, rubbed all the tell-tale lipstick off our mouths, and drove to his home.

Would Rival suspect anything? I wondered. We had been gone for a while.

“Rival?” Bradley called. “Honey? Darling?” His darting glances, the way he ran that tongue of his (that was recently down my throat) over his bottom lip, and his unsteady voice told me his fears were the same as mine.

We needn’t have wondered – Rival was still in the shower.

Relieved, we relaxed, drank up.

My parting whisper to him was, “Tomorrow night, I will
show
you my dream. Not tell you.”

He looked at the floor, a man clearly conflicted.

“Pinkie promise, remember?”

He didn’t answer, just chewed on his bottom lip.

Whether he would turn up or not, I wasn’t sure. I would have to play Wait and See
.

Random Seduction tip: Pleasure and play

Husbands’ lives are heavy with responsibility. They are often weighed down by work, by routine, mundane, and repetitive minutiae.

They don’t mind, they say in a defensive tone of voice. They love their kids, they love their wives, and as for work, it is simply a means to add to the material aspect of their lives, so they really fail to see their lives as the humdrum of the monotonous existence it is.

Until you come along and provide a playground for them. A pleasurable concourse where they are temporarily relieved of all responsibilities, all duties, where their every desire is satiated, and their every command is your wish. A gratifying palace with perfumed candles, aromatic incense, sensual silk, romantic soft lighting, and aphrodisiac tidbits which insinuate play and serve only to heighten the ambience of seduction.

Play and pleasure, play and pleasure – that’s all there is to it while time stands frozen for them.

When they return to their ordinary homes, their insipid lives, to their routine existence, the contrast is so strong and sharp, they crave what you have introduced them to and count the hours before they can once again revisit your pleasure den and step outside themselves.

****

Bradley had turned me down once again. Turned down a quickie in the back seat of his car, and even an artful blowjob. That was a first for me. A man turning down a chance to have some illicit sex with a sexy woman like me? What a worthy opponent. I was thoroughly enjoying the game thus far.

Although I was getting a tad impatient. I had our wedding to plan, Christmas cards to send out, and our first-year anniversary party to think about. Our bright future beckoned.

High on anticipation and dying to fully seal the deal, I spent hours slowly and craftily preparing for Bradley.

My lair theme would be pleasure. Always immeasurable pleasure. My robe was black, short, and silk, and save for a white, lacy thong, I wore nothing underneath. My hair was softly curled and framed my face, my make-up was flesh toned, but my lipstick was long-staying scarlet of course.

In my lounge, Ylang Ylang scented candles, about twenty of them in varying heights, dotted the place. A bottle of Moet sat invitingly on ice right next to the plump strawberries which were half-dipped in chocolate. Roses – red and cerise, some long-stemmed, some short-stemmed –surrounded me in four Royal Doulton crystal vases.

My seduction pack also consisted of a pair of red fur-trimmed handcuffs with a matching red fur-trimmed mask, a Rabbit vibrator, and a few other toys geared for pleasure. A sensual, sensory overload to intoxicate Bradley and induce feelings of buoyancy.

There were no wall clocks, no phones, no reminders of life outside my lair, nothing to provoke thought or guilt.

When my doorbell rang, I looked at the security video camera and saw Bradley.

I watched him run his hand over his mouth a couple of times, glance around him, smooth down his hair, glance around again, and blow out his cheeks a couple of times.

But he had showed up – that was the important thing. I received him at the door with a glass of champagne and a smile. Not a word from me, just an enigmatic smile.

He accepted the champagne, took a sip from it, and eyed me over the rim of the glass. Slowly his eyes, shiny with conflict and want, raked over my peeping breasts, my bare thighs, and finally hovered over my scarlet lips.

I waited for him to speak first. It was important that he did. He stared at the floor, a thoughtful look on his face. I held my breath. His eyes moved to look at me again, then at the front door. Not a good sign. He drained his glass, then looked at me.

C’mon! C’mon!

“Show me,” he finally said in a voice swollen with desire.

The question I had been waiting for.

In one fluid movement, I tugged at the tie of my silk robe and exposed my breasts.

His audible gasp and his labored breathing made me smile. He slammed his empty glass onto the dining table, lunged and grabbed me, kissing me long and hard, his tongue darting all over the inside of my mouth.

Judging by his ardency, I could tell that somebody had been thinking long and hard about me. Pun on hard.

Feverishly, I kissed back, probing his greedy mouth with my tongue, giving his mouth a preview of what was about to befall other parts of him. In a fired frenzy, I dropped to my knees, stuck my hands into his pants, fished out his erect cock, and took it into my mouth.

Right at the doorway. When he tried to shut the door, I stopped him. The buzz we’d get from being seen by someone served only to heighten the thrill of the situation, and I wanted him to enjoy the full experience. I had absolutely no intention of fucking him in my bedroom.

Sex in the bedroom is for wives and relationships past their prime. I planned to give him Mistress Sex, and part of that was being sucked off in a place other than a bedroom.

Halfway through my fellatio, I allowed him to move us out of the doorway and into the lounge. It was there I let him come into my mouth.

****

You have questions, I can tell. Consider this a FAQ sheet:

Did you swallow?

Yes. (It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give to a man. Well, that’s what all men say. Selfish pricks.)

Did you orgasm?

I pretended to. I never orgasm the first couple times with a new man. But it doesn’t bother me. It has to always be about them. The pleasure’s all theirs. Initially. Later on, I planned to lie on my back and let Bradley watch me touch myself. Nobody can give me a better orgasm than I can. Men can lead me to it, but in the end, my pleasure lies in my hands. My fantasy is better than the most expert lover.

Was he good in the sack?

No. Not at that moment anyway. He was far too excited to be adept at anything really. He was so eager, he almost came in his pants. But he was so handsome and sexy, I didn’t mind at all. In a couple of weeks, I would slow him down, teach him what worked for me, and put all parts of his anatomy to good use.

Did you use any of your toys on him?

Although I had a treasure chest of bedroom toys which could satiate every sexual desire of his, I didn’t, because I didn’t want to scare him off. Remember he’d been eating the same cheese sandwich for more than eight years – he was out of practice in the sexual arena. It would come back with practice, and soon he’d become my sexual equal.

How many times did you have sex that night?

Three times. As
a finale, a grand one at that, I led him to the spa in my apartment complex where I lay back and let him fuck me. He slammed into me and called my name over and over again as he blasted into me.

Did he stay the night?

No. He left around 3 a.m. I wanted it that way. The initial seduction should always be short and sweet for impact.

When he awoke the following morning, I have no doubt in my mind that after his short but intense stint in my boudoir, he would look around his uninspiring bedroom, his wife in her flannel pajamas, pasty face, and hairy legs, and compare her and his world to me and my world. I bet he would grimace at the contrast.

End of FAQs.

Done and dusted? Nope.

To keep things fresh between us, I had to come up with different ways to keep Bradley enthralled. And I never failed to, which delighted him. Slowly, I introduced my toys to him.

“I didn’t know these even existed,” he said, wide-eyed with wonder at my sexual accoutrements and my ability to surprise him.

Then it was time to introduce him to my best weapon of all – cocaine.

It didn’t sit well with him – his eyes cleared and his back stiffened when he looked at the little bag of white powder in my hand. “I’m an attorney, Scarlett,” he said, pushing me away. “I can’t do shit like that.”

“Baby, in here, you are not an attorney; you are a man who deserves every bit of pleasure you can get. Outside this room, you are weighed down by the responsibility of work, by constant family demands, and the monotony of life – every day the same shit as yesterday. You never take time for you except when you are with me.”

When he nodded in agreement, I continued my cajoling. “It’s just a little bit of fun. Every executive does it – makes them feel like a teenager again.”

Silence.

“Want the
best
organism ever? Then trust me. All I wanna do is take you to another level, baby. A
higher
level. Come with me.” I held out my hand. “You won’t regret it.”

He stared at my hand, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, I don’t really have an addictive personality,” he muttered.

My response was to push him into a chair, draw a blurred line along the upper part of his thigh, and snort it. Then I drew a line across my breasts and handed him a rolled up bank note.

One snort and he was hooked. On cocaine, pleasure receptors are incredibly responsive, and whatever few inhibitions Bradley had remaining vanished just like that. We fucked like animals.

“I thought sex like this only existed in the movies,” Bradley said as we both lay drenched in post-coital sweat.

I smiled.
Told you so.

Men are not very good liars. Until they are having an affair. Then overnight, they become champion liars.

Bradley spent every moment he could with me and became an expert liar. He manufactured tales about court cases needing extra attention and fabricated stories about meeting a client after-hours in the city.

When he ran out of lies, I helped him along.

“Tell her that you have to Skype with clients during U.S. and U.K. peak hours.”

“Tell her your phone is problematic – signal problems.”

“Ask her to text you if it’s important, as you cannot take calls.”

“Tell her your car has been somehow locked away in a parkade that has shut down for the night, and that you have to wait for them to open it in the morning. Then you will come home.”

He followed instructions, and his dumb idiot of a wife believed it all, to my delight.

We fucked in his office (sometimes during working hours with his secretary in the front office), in the back seat of his Merc, in my apartment, in my BMW, in the back row at the movies, in restaurant bathrooms, at night on the beach, and in his and Rival’s bed. I had insisted on that. How dare his marital bed remain undefiled? That was the only bedroom we ever fucked in, and I was sure that he would get my scent when he went to bed.

When the opportunity arose, he whisked me away to Bali for a few days. Sure we were accompanied by his friend Ritchie McMillan, a morose guy with a judgmental look on his face. But we were too happy to give a shit what he thought.

Bradley loved my daringness, he loved my willingness to be discreet for Rival and the kids’ sake. He loved my spontaneity, he loved my take-charge attitude in the bedroom (even though we never did it in the bedroom), and he loved that I could be a lady in the street and a freak in the bed. He loved everything about me.

No, no, no! No applause just yet, please.

****

Random Seduction Tip: Complacency

Men can become really complacent really quickly. Because you were the pursuer and the seducer, they can take you for granted almost immediately. That can make you resentful, and when that happens, sexual tension between the two of you can slacken.

Therefore, it may be necessary to take a step back, turn the seduction tables around, and become the pursued. Suddenly becoming unavailable without explanation can shake up the complacent seduced.

“Hunter Valley,” Rival said over her shoulder as she paged through the racks at Victoria’s Secret.

“Really now?” I asked, my hackles rising.

“Yeah, Bradley booked us the honeymoon suite. I got a babysitter, and I’m ready for a dirty weekend.” She turned and winked at me.

“Mm.” Bastard. After all I had done to keep him in thrall, after catering to his every sexual need, he was taking his wife away for a dirty weekend? For what?

“Black or white?” Rival asked, holding up two short silk nightdresses.

I eyed them both, then said, “White. Black is a bit whorish for you.”

Of course I wanted her to be the virginal and lackluster wife in white, muted shades, while I strutted my stuff in hot pink, black, red – colors that oozed passion, lust, and desire. I wasn’t about to make Rival my competition by encouraging her to wear black.

“When do you leave?” I asked.

“Friday next week. Back Sunday arvo.”

“Great,” I murmured. I had over a week to kick some arse.

I waited for Bradley to mention the upcoming weekend away to me. He didn’t. I became furious and decided to teach him a lesson. We had plans to meet the following, which was Saturday.

Without telling him, I packed a bag and flew to Melbourne to visit my spare wheel, Greg Barrows.

On Saturday evening around 6 p.m., my phone rang. It was Bradley. With a smile I let the call go to voicemail. Then I received his text.

Outside

After that I got a few texts.

Scarlett im outside

Scarlett did u forget bout us

My phone rang several times but I ignored it. Within the hour, I got fifteen texts and nine phone calls. I ignored them all. Let the bastard stew.

On Sunday morning, I got a worried text from Bradley.

Just tell me ur ok thats all

Of course, I did not reply. I arrived in Sydney on Sunday around 9 p.m to find a huge bouquet of roses waiting at reception for me. With a smile, I picked up the flowers, stepped into my apartment, and prepared for a leisurely shower.

Just before I stepped into the shower, I unlatched my front door. About ten minutes into the shower, Bradley threw open my bathroom door and stood at the entrance, hands on his hips, nostrils flaring.

“Hey, honey,” I said in a syrupy voice. “How are you?”

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering my messages?” he rasped.

“I…I…I was going to. I had so many messages, I was going through them one by one.”

He glared at me for a few moments, his teeth gnashing, his eyes hooding. “Who sent you those flowers?”

Slowly, I turned off the taps and draped a bath sheet around me. “What…flowers?”

He darted his thumb behind him.

“Oh, oh…um…my mother.”

“Fucking liar!” he yelled and took a step toward me, his eyes shiny with fury. “It says,
You were amazing.
Your mother said that?”

I ducked under his arm and walked to my bedroom, getting turned on by his jealousy.

He followed me into it, grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to face him. “Don’t lie to me, Scarlett. I hate lies!”

Yep, the man who was cheating on his wife, lying to her on a daily basis, hated lies.

“Are you getting
bored
of me, Scarlett?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine, his gaze dark.

“Bradley…I rubbed the back of my neck and grimaced. “We’re going nowhere. I can’t see anything happening between us, and the truth is, I, eh…I wanna see other men ’cause—”

He slapped me hard across the face. “You fucking bitch!”

I was stunned; never before had any man hit me.

When I tasted blood in my mouth, I was even more turned on by his violent streak.

“I love you!” he blurted, his voice shaky. “I’m in love with you. I wanna be with you. All the time!”

Gotcha
!

(Once again, I have to ask you to hold your applause. Rival hadn’t sung as yet.)

Bradley sank onto my bed, his shoulders slumping. “I…I love you. I want to be with you all the time. Every minute of the day, I want to be with you. I gotta leave Rival. Gotta find a way to do it, painlessly.”

I dropped the towel around me and sank to my knees in front of him. “I love you too, Bradley,” I said.

That night we had our first make-up sex, and it was incredible. We didn’t even have to snort. Didn’t need it. I was high from Bradley’s declaration of love for me, from knowing that he was now obsessed with me.

Got that? Are you taking notes? I hope you are.

In case you missed:

Hot shot, successful attorney and future Prime Minister of Australia was now mine.

He was in love with me. He wanted to leave his wife and be with me. He was obsessed with me.

Mission accomplished. Hands dusted. Back patted. Cat-got-the-cream look firmly in situ.

Told you I was great at what I do, didn’t I?

You didn’t believe me, right? Do yourself a favor and buy my Life Manual the moment it’s released. Pre-order it if you have to, because it’s going to be the
only
self-help book you’re ever going to need. Women the world over will laud it. Laud
me
. Count on it.

PS: Those flowers that Bradley saw; I sent them to myself.

****

Random Seduction Tip: Get Yourself an Uzi

When you’re unhappy with what your man is saying, resist the temptation to sound like a wife by fighting him. You will get nowhere.

Always agree with him. For about thirty seconds, agree with him by means of a series of tiny nods. During those thirty seconds, resist the urge to fume, curse, tell him to piss off, and things about his mama he doesn’t know.

Be shrewd, instead. Load in your ammo and gear up for slow fire, before you bring out an Uzi.

Then look worried, appear distracted, but say little. Although you aren’t exactly quiet as your body language is saying a whole lot.

Your silence will eventually shout and he will ask you what is wrong. It is then that you proceed to fire one bullet at a time into his argument until it lies shredded around his feet. Most times, you may not even need your Uzi.

Take your time and focus on changing his mind, getting your way. Getting your way is everything. Be selfish – it’s good for your soul. Ask any man; they’ll tell you how good it feels to be selfish.