Heroine: The Husband's Cologne

Elia Mirca

Heroine:

The Husband’s Cologne

Author: Elia Mirca                           

http://www.elia-mirca.com

© 2012 EDITION ESAM®

Published by EDITION ESAM

Pictures: © olly - Fotolia.com

Translation: KD Engelbrecht

ISBN 978-3-941769-48-9

All rights reserved, expressly the right for electronic, mechanical or photographic reproduction, storage and processing in electronic systems, reprint, filming or dramatization, broadcast via radio, television, Internet or video, also of individual parts of the text, of pictures, as well as the translation into other languages. Except for the quotation of small passages for the purpose of criticism or review, no part of this publication may be reproduced.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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   It all began with a fling. There I laid in bed with Norman, the best friend of my husband Daniel, while my spouse himself was screwing another woman – so I thought.

  
Daniel had allowed me to be unfaithful, so he could have his affair with Norman’s cousin Maria, a young teacher, who had also attended Norman’s party.

  
Had I known at this time that this was the beginning of a mad story where at the end I myself became crazy, I’d not agreed to Daniel’s idea to stray.

  
However, at that time I’d not been able to resist any of Daniel’s sometimes strange wishes.

  
He’d changed considerably during our short marriage. Most of that only manifested slowly.

  
Anyhow, the sum of events left me quite hurt, and it turned out to be a hard lesson. In the end, I grew stronger through this difficult time and I finally learned to begin taking care of myself.

We had been invited to Norman's place.  It was a marvelous summer day, almost 80 degrees in the evening, the air decidedly crisp.  This was unusual weather for Cologne, which is mostly rainy, mostly misty, cold, or a blend of all three.  Today, though, it was beautiful.  I was relishing the weather and looking forward to a relaxing evening with friends, fellow students, or whoever happened to be there.

I had begun my studies in psychology some time ago, and tonight I was on my way to a party at Norman's with
my husband Daniel.  Norman was part of Daniel's crowd, they both studied electrical engineering.  A mindless subject, if you ask me.  I knew Norman casually; we had met three or four times at our apartment, when he came over to cram for his studies.  He was fiercely good-looking, a cocky type with broad shoulders, blonde hair and around 6 feet, 7 inches tall.   As a handball goalkeeper, he probably didn't need to do much more than stand leisurely in front of the goal.  Nobody was getting a ball passed this guy.  I usually gave these types a wide berth, since I had the (justified) suspicion that they viewed women as nothing more than prey.

I had been married to Daniel for over a year already, and I had not felt in such high spirits for a long time as I did this evening.  I felt light, exhilarated, almost aroused, and like a kid I took pleasure in the simplest things, like the warm breeze on my skin.

Daniel and I had a few problems in our brief marriage, and some time ago we had talked at length about how we could get a handle on them.  We had finally managed to put them behind us and could now open a new chapter on our marriage.

Daniel thought that a little freedom would do our relationship good, and so we agreed that he could venture out on a night of infidelity.  In exchange, I also had permission to stray once.  At first, I found the idea strange, but Daniel had never had sexual experiences with anyone but me, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing out on something.  So I agreed, but it made me uneasy.  Would things work out?  I loved him, and could easily imagine us growing old together.  But could this “escapade”, as he called it, really work?

Regardless, that was over a month ago, and now we were making our way happily up the street to Norman's apartment, where the party was being held. 

I hadn't dressed particularly chic for the occasion.  I had on flat shoes, a short low-cut summer dress, and no bra.  Still, I was presentable, and it was obvious that the men were looking at me.  Most of them anyway, since we were in Cologne after all and there were sure to be a couple of men checking out Daniel and his cute behind as well.

Norman's apartment was on the attic floor of a smallish house on the outskirts of the city, and as we arrived, we could already hear music blaring from the open attic window.  As he opened the entrance door for us, he informed us that his landlady was out this weekend, visiting with her daughter and grandchildren, which meant that we could be as loud as we wanted for as long as we wished. 

We went up to the third floor, where 20-odd people were already mingling under the pitched roof, most of them doubtless students, or around that age.  Daniel asked Norman where his girlfriend was. 

“It's over between us,” he said, without batting an eyelash, “we talked it over and decided that we're not meant for each other.”  This probably meant he had dumped her.

Be that as it may, the wine was good, the music even better and the summer breeze brought light banter and laughs, a lot of fun and some new acquaintances.  Not all those present were students.  Some were craftsmen or worked for the government, played handball with Norman and Daniel, or had met Norman in other
circumstances.  I danced with several men as the evening unfolded, some of whom wanted to “get to know me better.”  I brushed them off.  Daniel, too, danced with various women but never with me.  Later, I found out that he had danced at length with a slim brunette.  I approached Norman and asked him who the girl was.  It was his cousin, who’s a teacher.  I see.

Daniel had evidently chosen his “escapade.”  During a break in the dancing, I approached him about her.  Yes, he said, this woman might interest him.  I felt the jealousy rise in my stomach.  But we had already agreed. 

Later that evening the room had emptied visibly, and around 11 o'clock there were, surprisingly, only a handful of people still around.  I was dancing alone when Norman approached me from the kitchen.  He had been using the kitchen as a lounge the entire evening.  Now he wanted to dance with me, and I accepted.  After all, I had everything under control and knew exactly what I wanted.  And I knew I didn't want Norman.

He wrapped his arm around me and led the way. He was evidently a man who could lead in a dance.  To be sure, rap and heavy metal was not our thing.  Rock 'n roll, disco fox and similar things were playing this evening. 

He danced exceptionally well, and I actually felt safe in his hands.  There were no wrong moves, missteps, or anything of the kind.

His hand rested on my back, and I noticed it slowly wandering up and down along my back.    The dress was low-cut in the back.  Then his warm hand was on my bare skin.  My first instinct was to resist by pushing him away.  But I thought of Daniel, who had danced with
Norman's cousin, and might already be lying on top of her.  Suddenly I didn't care anymore, and I took pleasure in Norman's movements, and as I felt his fingers on the nape of my neck, my legs went weak.  His fingers stroked my neck in a spot that struck at the very core of me!  I noticed my knees beginning to quiver, and I felt my belly grow warm. 

His mouth was now close to my shoulder, his lips brushing up the side of my neck.  His gentle fingers fondled the nape.  His other hand slid downward suddenly into the cut of my dress and caressed my back.  How did he know the spots that got me hot? 

“I've been watching you the whole evening,” he whispered in my ear. 
He wasn't holding me this close to him before, was he?

“You turn me on, like no other woman has ever done.  Why don't we get out of here and take advantage of the rest of the evening with a little intimacy?”

At this point it was an enticing offer, I have to admit.  To put it another way, I was already so aroused that I forgot my entire hesitance and the decisions I’d made before. I was drawn to the guy. 

Even so, I was married and had learned not to let myself go like this.  I wanted to turn him down, and to his surprise, and to mine, I said:

“OK, but I have to ask Daniel first. Without his permission, it's not happening.”

Then I asked myself what the point of that was. 
Either yes or no, but don't dither.

Puzzled, Norman replied:

“Alright, I'll wait here.”

I looked for Daniel and found him in the hallway
talking to two other guys I didn't know.  I pulled him aside and whispered to him that I wanted to sleep with Norman.  If I had expected indignation, I was wrong. 

“Fine,” he said. “Have fun.”

Now I was the one perplexed. Fair enough, so he had probably already charmed that bimbo I saw earlier and would likely spend the rest of the night with her.

I went back to where I had left Norman.  He got himself out of the conversation he had with another guest, who evidently was saying goodbye because he proceeded to make his way out of the entrance door and closed it behind him.

I looked at Norman and nodded briefly.  We were now alone in the small room that appeared to serve as both an office and a lounge.  Books with odd titles lined the shelves, a desk (Ikea's finest), an old couch. 
This is where we were going to do it? I thought.
  He must have seen the flicker of doubt in my eyes and said:

“Let's go upstairs.”

I was surprised that there might be another apartment above this one and followed him cautiously around a corner behind the bookshelf, where a spiral staircase led up toward the roof.  The staircase ended under a gable in an attic.  A small corridor led to a door, which he opened and stood aside to let me in first.  It was a bedroom. 

A futon lay on the ground; there was a small closet and a wooden floor so that every step creaked.  Below, we heard soft music playing as the front door shut again. There was a cheap lamp hanging from the ceiling, another work from Ikea no doubt.

I stood before him, my shoulders sagging.  What now?  He looked at me, towering from his imposing height, and took me in his arms.  A deep kiss ensued.  I felt his tongue, and again his right hand began fondling my neck.  If with the first kiss I still had reservations, now I surrendered entirely.

The next hours flew by in frenzy.  I must have lost my senses for a while because all I can remember is touching each other; his broad hairy chest; fingers on my whole body, gentle strokes along my back and my thighs.

There was a mirror above his bed, which I realized later in the night.  What it was for was unclear to me, since we could not see each other in it while having sex. 

But as I sat upright, I saw someone.  Or rather, I saw the silhouette of somebody's belly, since the candles on the floor illuminated only a small portion of the room, waist-high.  The bedroom door was ajar and before it stood a man.  That much was clear. His pants were rolled up to his calves and he was barefoot.

He was one of the last guests who
was obviously watching us have sex.  For a fleeting moment I was taken aback, shocked.  But my shock turned instantly to keen arousal.  I was going to give him his money's worth!  I winked at him through the mirror and hoped he had seen that I was onto him. I was now sitting high up on Norman and peered into the mirror before me.  I never once took my eyes off the peeper behind us.

We put on a wild show.  Or rather, I put on the show, as Norman had no idea we were being watched. When we’d ended, the peeper vanished silently.

I was beyond satisfied.  I spent the rest of the night sleeping blissfully in Norman's arms, a night interspersed with tender kisses and touches.

I awoke at around 11 o'clock the next morning. As we made our way downstairs at noon, Daniel was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee.  I hoped that he had spent an equally wonderful night with Norman's cousin, because I suddenly felt my conscience returning.  He was my husband, after all.

On the way home Daniel and I spoke little and when we did, it was of trivial matters. 

Then I asked him briefly:

“So how did it go?” And he replied, “It was nice.”  That was all I needed to know for the moment.  He had obviously gotten his money's worth with that woman. I hated her.  All the way back to his apartment, which was about 20 minutes away from Norman's, we held hands.  We were like kids looking for a little security. 

The farther we drove from Norman's apartment, the stronger was my sense that I had done something that I should have avoided.  How would Daniel react were I to tell him all that had happened?  We had promised to tell each other everything after the fling, in order to preserve our trust in one another.  Well then, I would give him a watered-down version from my end.  Something like:
I It wasn't all that great; I was clearly just a sex toy for him and I felt a little used.
Or something along those lines would suffice. 

We got home and had a coffee.  We did so in silence.  I watched Daniel peer absently into his coffee cup.  I wanted him to say something.  My arousal was slowly turning to jealousy and feelings of guilt.  I loved him, and now I felt afraid I might lose him.  Or was this the fear of losing myself to Norman? 

“Tell me, how did it go with Norman's cousin?” I inquired timidly through the thick veil of our awkward silence.  Somehow, I wanted to chase the stifling tension out of our kitchen. 

“It was a total flop,” he finally exclaimed. “She was gone by 11, blowing me off after having teased me to no end while we danced.”

Oops, I felt panic rising in my stomach.  Something inside me began to cramp.
He hadn't even fooled around with her?  No fling?  While I was busy with Norman...?

“So what did you do then?” I asked, a little thrown.

“I went to lie down on the couch in his room and fell asleep.”
What a relief,
I thought, that probably meant that he didn't get wind of my orgy upstairs.