CHAPTER FIVE: Fiona

I’d never had an orgasm that literally made me shudder from head to toe before or one that lasted nearly as long and seemed to come in waves. The ripples of orgasmic fire seemed to pump through my veins and out of my vagina for minutes. I’d peek to orgasm, barely have time to catch my breath, then peek to orgasm again. It was almost too surreal to be true, like something you saw in a bad porno movie.

Afterward, we giggled like teenagers as we put ourselves back together in the cramped space, all knees and elbows and asses rubbing together. The Haven Club was pretty high end, so even the bar restrooms were stocked with thick hand towels stacked neatly on a shelf. I ran one under warm water for a minute, then used it to clean myself off down there. I was a sticky gooey mess, but I loved it. I dried off my cooch with a dry towel and pulled the thong out of my purse and shook it loose. It was still damp, but I had to put it on to keep the after-sex juices from dripping out of me.

Nick watched me with a smile on his face that seemed to be plastered there. He wiped off his sticky cock and balls with the wet cloth and roughly stuffed them inside his slacks, as if he were putting them away until the next time they were needed. There was a laundry chute in the wall for used towels. We held our noses and giggled as we dropped our nasty towels down the chute. Nick made a comment that he would make sure the person doing the laundry got a hefty tip in the morning.

“I’m going to get us a fresh round of drinks,” Nick said when he had his jacket on and his tie stuffed inside a pocket. He leaned in to kiss me gently on the lips. “Meet you back at the booth.”

“That sounds lovely,” I said with a happy sigh that made us both smile. He slipped out the door. I locked the door behind him, then pushed the thong down my legs and sat on the toilet for a good long pee.

As I sat there with my elbows on my knees and my cheeks resting between my palms, I let the stream fly and closed my eyes to think about what I’d just done. Not only had I just had amazing sex with a man I hardly knew in a bar restroom, I had crossed the line from faithful wife to cheater.

That’s right, it was official.

I was a cheater, just like my husband.

I could no longer stand on my pious soapbox and point the finger so angrily at him. I could no longer take the moral high ground and look down on him with eyes full of disgust.

Granted, he cheated first and had probably slept with far more women than I could even imagine, but that didn’t matter. We had both broken our marriage vows. The playing field had been leveled by a few wonderful minutes with Nick Patron.

We were both cheaters: Kyle had just done it first and done it repeatedly.

My grandfather was a Pentecostal preacher. One of his favorites sayings was: the sins of one does not excuse the sins of another.

Amen, grandpa. Amen.

As I sat on the toilet waiting for another man’s sperm to drain from within me, I felt no guilt; at least not in the measure I would have years ago before I knew that Kyle had never been faithful to me. There was also no remorse for what I’d done, though I wondered if I moved too fast in having sex with Nick so quickly. But as I said before, the fact that I saw Kyle cheating with my own eyes on the same day that I met and flirted shamelessly with another man had to be more than coincidental. I’d never flirted with anyone other than my husband, and I wasn’t sure why I flirted with Nick that particular day. It was as if a little voice inside my head was prodding me on because it knew something I didn’t. It was almost as if our tryst was meant to be.

My purse buzzed. I picked it up off the sink and found my cellphone inside. It was Kyle calling. I hesitated for moment, then couldn’t resist answering his call. I was dying to hear what the lying SOB had to say for himself. I was also dying to tell him that I’d just fucked another man in a public restroom. And not just any man, but a man he desperately hated. His old archenemy; Nick Patron. If Kyle was Batman, I’d just been fucked by the Joker. Actually, the analogy works better the other way around.

I tapped the answer button and barked into the phone. “What?”

“Fee? Fee? Where are you?” There was an air of desperation in his voice that made me frown. I’d never heard Kyle sound so shaken before. He kept repeating my name in a pleading tone. “Fee? Fee? Are you there?”

“What do you want, Kyle?” I asked spitefully. “Tired of Wendy Lowenstein already?”

“Fee, it’s mother. She’s had a heart attack,” he said, his voice cracking. I could tell he was sniffing back tears. “It’s bad, Fee. I need you. Mother needs you. Please. You have to get to Memorial Hospital right away.”