A Night At The Theatre 8

I was not happy. In fact I was a whole mixture of emotions; resentful, disappointed, anxious, frustrated. It was our tenth wedding anniversary and my husband, Jeremy, who is 13 years my senior and partner in a city centre law practice had had one of his 'senior moments'. We had just been finishing our meal at the hotel restaurant when his face paled. For one brief moment I thought it was a heart attack. He began to tap the breast pocket of his navy blazer before exclaiming, "Oh my God!"

"What is it, darling?" I implored, leaning forward over the table.

"I've left the blasted tickets back at home."

To mark the occasion of a decade together Jeremy had booked tickets to see a Harold Pinter play at a theatre in Manchester. Dinner was my treat. Exasperated I hissed, "For Goodness, Jeremy...."

Before I had uttered these words my husband had stood up from the table, dabbed either side of his mouth with the immaculate linen napkin, and said, "I won't be two shakes of a lamb's tail, darling. Jenny'll keep you company. Won't be long."

Won't be long? It was easily half an hour each way to home and back. On our way into the hotel we had bumped into an old university friend of mine with whom I had kept in contact mainly by email and the occasional lunch. Jenny was attending a medical conference at the hotel and looked every inch the successful consultant she had risen to become. After exchanging air kisses so as not to smudge our make up we agreed to join her in the bar after dinner. At the time my chance meeting with Jenny seemed to herald what promised to be a wonderful evening.

An hour later, however, my mood was altogether gloomier. Having abandoned my dessert in favour of polishing off the remainder of the excellent Chablis I left the hotel's restaurant in search of Jenny in the bar. Peering around the seats and alcoves it soon became apparent she was not there. With an increasing sense of annoyance and awkwardness I picked out a secluded and dimly lit recess and eased myself on to the soft brown leather table seat.

What a fool I felt. All dressed up and – as far as anyone who was looking – nowhere to go. Ten minutes previously I looked and felt a million dollars. I do not mean to sound vain but I look good for 40. I have not allowed the rigours of being a marketing executive to get in the way of maintaining my figure. If anything it has helped my career. I am not one of these feminists who try to be as macho as men in order to justify my position in the company. I will readily own up to using my feminine charms when necessary to bag a client or gain the favour of a senior colleague. And, yes, sometimes there is a frisson between us and I don't mind saying it all adds to the job satisfaction. But that – I hasten to add - is where it ends.

I go to the gym three times a week before work and horse riding at the weekend also keeps me toned and in shape. The result is that I have nice slim legs which are readily shown off in skirts rather than trousers. I'm not exactly busty but I possess a healthy cleavage which frequently glimpses the light of day. This particular evening was no exception. I was in my favourite black silky, slinky cocktail dress, setting off my jet black hair which was drawn up on top of my head in a French Twist. There was no need no need for a jacket on this balmy summer evening. I was dressed for seduction although now seduction was far from my mind. The black hold ups and matching lacy lingerie underneath were now seemingly a superfluous frivolity.

I busied myself with deleting text messages from my mobile phone, occasionally re-reading a few saucy jokes sent from various friends although inwardly I was still fuming at Jeremy. Squinting at the screen in the semi-darkness I was taken aback when I suddenly heard a voice with a strong London accent above me.

"Aw'right. Can I get you a drink?"

I looked up and saw a broad powerfully built man in his early 30's grinning down at me. I took in his appearance; not quite six foot, with blond hair gelled back to reveal sparkling blue eyes which went well with his sky blue Ralph Lauren shirt tucked in black jeans. With alcohol-induced bravado, coupled with the annoyance of being left to sit alone in a hotel bar, I looked him up and down and said, "Do you know...I think I will, thank you. A glass of white wine, please."

His grin widened and, with a nod of acknowledgement, he headed to the bar to order the drinks. I found myself quickly checking my appearance just before he returned with two enormous glasses of wine which must have held half a bottle each. Setting the glasses down with another flashing smile he introduced himself, "Cheers...I'm Steve by the way."

"Your good health...I'm Sarah."

Steve manoeuvred his large frame further round the alcove at the same time turning his body to face me. He had a wide boy charm in a rather unsophisticated way and clearly made a living from his gift of the gab. Judging by his accent he was away from home on some sales trip 'up north'. Still, it would wile away some time until Jeremy turned up. His discovery that his 'abandoned wife' was being chatted up by a bit of rough would no doubt teach him not to be so forgetful in future.

I half expected Steve to follow up with something clichéd like, "...and what's a nice girl like you..."

"What was the filet mignon in the sauce bayonnaise like?"

I half choked on my first mouthful of wine. My reaction must have been noticeable because he laughed saying, "We don't just eat jellied eels in Peckham!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude but how do you know I had the filet mignon?"

"Cos I was sitting on the other side of the restaurant...and I sorta noticed ya."

"Ahh..I see." I arched an enquiring eyebrow at Steve and took another sip of wine. I was becoming distinctly tipsy and was entering into the spirit of the occasion.

"So what are you celebrating?" he said, smiling back at me knowingly before eyeing me up and down.

"Our tenth wedding anniversary." I replied with mock indignation.

Steve threw back his head and guffawed.

"And the occasion was all too much for your husband that he dumped ya?"

Unsure of how to respond I replied simply, "Something like that."

"Well I can tell ya now," he ventured, warming to the challenge, "if you were my missus I wouldn't leave alone for a moment. Not with blokes like me around," he winked and gave me another of his flashing smiles and took a large mouthful from his glass but still eyeing me over its rim. The wine was beginning to take effect.

"And what sort of 'bloke' are you? I asked suggestively.

"Well,' he leaned over and in a conspiratorial whisper said, "I enjoy the company of attractive intelligent women who dress..." Steve glanced up the length of my legs, from my black patent heels to the hem of my black cocktail dress, "...to show off their...er...best assets."

In holding his stare I was transfixed at just how blue Steve's eyes were. The scent of Davidoff Clearwater permeated my inebriated senses and my heart began to beat faster. A little voice inside my head warned me I was going too far. Feigning innocence I said, "And what might they be?"

"You have terrific legs which look even better in black....tights?" Steve's voice went up at the end to emphasise the flirtatious query.

"Not quite."

"Not quite what?"

"Not quite tights."

"Stockings?"

"Hold ups to be precise."

"Really?"

"Really" My heart now was pounding but I kept my face and voice matter of fact convincing myself that this was just idle banter. But deep down I was getting turned on. The stirring between my legs was becoming almost uncomfortable and I crossed my legs feeling myself becoming moist. In doing so the hem of my dress rode a bit higher up my thigh giving a merest glimpse of the elasticated top. Steve caught sight of it just as I smoothed the hem back down. He knew I hadn't been lying. As I looked down I noticed a significant bulge had arisen in Steve's jeans. Rather than disguising his state he simply said, "So where is hubby now?"

"He's driven back home to pick up tickets for the theatre which he'd forgotten," I sighed in resignation.

"How long will he be?" Steve's voice was now more business like. I looked casually at the Cartier watch Jeremy had bought for me on our first wedding anniversary.

"At least half an hour I should think."

"I have a room upstairs."

"I'm married," matching his matter of fact tone of his voice.

"Happily?"

"It's our tenth wedding anniversary."

"I take it that's a no then?"

There was a brief pause before I said "I think maybe I've drunk too much." It came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

"Would you like a coffee?" Steve said in a soothing way, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"I would actually."

"I have some in my room."

We stared in each others eyes for a few seconds. I reached for my small black patent Gucci hand bag and eased my way out between the table and seat. Steve followed behind and then placing his large hand on the small of my back he directed me silently towards the lift. His touch sent a charge of electricity up my spine as my head fought conflicting emotions. Now half drunk on the amount of wine consumed I didn't recognise the Sarah who was giving in to pure carnal instinct. Even the rational part of my mind justified what I was doing as punishment on Jeremy's insensitivity. I wanted this particular evening to be treated as a woman and I was now heading to a hotel room with a stranger who did.

Steve and I entered the lift with two other elderly guests who shared our silence until the doors parted and Steve ushered me out into the hallway. He unlocked the door to his room and held it open for me to enter. The door had hardly shut before he forced me round by the shoulders and pushed me against the wall.

His head craned down and he plunged his mouth over mine forcing an almost bovine tongue between my lips. I resisted momentarily before allowing its muscular moistness to invade my mouth, searching out my own tongue. To steady myself I wrapped my upturned arms under his and pulled his body into me, eventually clasping on to his shoulders. His hips now ground into my stomach feeling his hardness through the thin material of my dress.

The sheer urgency with which Steve kissed me led him to explore my body with his hands, massaging my breasts through my dress and then reaching down behind me to clasp my ass tightly. In response I raised my knee against the outside of his leg, rubbing it with equal urgency. With this his hand came on to my knee and Steve ran his hand slowly up my hold ups until he felt flesh. By now I was extremely wet. I could feel the lips of my pussy now swollen and hot. I held my breath as Steve's strong thick fingers explored ever further. My panting became urgent as he searched under the gusset of my panties and at first one, then two, fingers entered me. Feeling utterly wanton I needed to feel his hardness and as his fingers inserted themselves inside me I pushed the palm of my hand on to his crotch and began grabbing hold of his manhood through the unyielding fabric of his jeans. I had some idea then that Steve was big. Much bigger – and thicker - than Jeremy. I was now in ecstasy as Steve frantically sawed his two big fingers in and out of me. But I was now transfixed by the size of Steve's manhood. Previously I had only managed to work myself up to mild curiousity when other women used to talk about the size of their partner's penises but now was different.

I dropped my knee thereby forcing Steve's fingers out of me and now I pushed him back against the wall. I looked in his lust-filled eyes and then placed both palms on his broad chest and began to massage him. I dropped slowly to my knees allowing my hands to fall to his belt which I began to feverishly unbuckle. Unzipping his jeans revealed a hard phallus straining against tight black Lycra boxers. Hooking my red painted finger nails over the waist band I pulled everything down allowing a now half erect penis to spring out of the confines of the Steve's shorts. It was enormous. I clasped my fingers round the base of his cock and began to massage it up and down. As it grew my fingers could no longer wrap themselves fully round its girth. Steve sighed and turned his head upwards as I began to lick the length of the shaft eventually finishing at the top where now a very large bulbous head had emerged fully from the foreskin.

I pulled his cock upwards and began to lick Steve's balls – the size and texture of satsumas - making him sigh even more. By now his penis was fully erect, standing a magnificent 8 inches. Taking the base of his cock in my right hand I opened my mouth as wide as I could and engulfed half in my mouth. I could not remember the last time I performed oral sex on Jeremy but on the few occasions I had it had proven to be a tasteless affair. This was different. Steve filled my mouth with different senses and wrapping my lips as much as I could round his thick length I felt the head of his cock push against the back of my throat making me gag slightly. Readjusting myself I began to work my mouth up and down his shaft as he began to rhythmically thrust backwards and forwards. Steve then started moaning louder and grabbing a handful of my hair away from its neatly coiffured style he pulled my head in time with his thrusting.

Just as my jaw was beginning to ache, Steve's thrusting and pulling intensified, his cock hardened and his balls tightened. I knew he was starting to come and, having never allowed Jeremy to come in my mouth, I began to try and pull away. Instead Steve grunted, "No way!" and grabbing tighter on to my hair at the back of my head pulled me roughly into his groin. My nose was now buried in his bushy pubic hair and my mouth was now wide open to accommodate his sheer size. In a state of helplessness I awaited him to unload his semen into my mouth.

"Oh God....Fuuuuuck!" he groaned as the first wave shocked me with a jet roping its way immediately down the back of my throat. There was a slight relaxation of his ass which I was having to hold on to. Just when I thought he'd finished Steve's thighs tensed again and a second more viscous amount of hot salty sperm filled my mouth. For the first time ever I closed my eyes and swallowed, letting myself experience the sensation of cum clinging to the interior of my mouth.

"Man. That was sooooo good," sighed Steve, "Now I owe you."

"This is not such a good idea," I implored as I was now sobering up and the first pang of guilt began to encroach on the periphery of my consciousness.

"Wrong answer!" laughed Steve and picking me up he carried me into the main part of the room and threw me on the bed. He fell on top of me and held my wrists on the bed and leaned down and kissed me heavily on the mouth. As I surrendered his hands massaged my breasts and then pulling the strap of the dress off my shoulder and tugging the bra cup down he revealed my breast. He lowered himself down and took my already erect nipple between his teeth and began pulling it until it became even harder. My sighing encouraged Steve to work his way down, biting me through the flimsy material.

The hem of my dress was now over my hips revealing my stocking clad legs. I was aware that my panties were now soaking but before I became self conscious Steve had pulled the flimsy material down and over my ankles in one swift movement. Steve looked down appreciatively at my naked pussy which felt all the more exposed with just a small black triangle pointing towards my agitated clitoris. I had taken to having my pubic hair trimmed and waxed ever since I discovered my first gray hair amid my dark thatch.

Steve raised a foot and ran his tongue from the inside of my ankle slowly meandering a path up the inside of my thigh. He could clearly see that my pussy lips were parted, distended and glistening. He allowed my leg to fall over his shoulder as he began to lick my clitoris, slowly at first and then nibbling at it with his teeth. I groaned heavily as I then felt his fingers work their way inside me again and as his strong tongue worked its way around my clit I began to feel the onset of an orgasm. It was my time this time to grab Steve's head and grind my hips into his mouth, his enormous tongue snaking its way inside me.

Just as I was tensing to unleash my first orgasm in years my mobile went off in my hand bag.

"Shit," I exclaimed, "that'll be Jeremy."

Sitting up straight I fumbled in my bag as Steve emerged from between my legs, his hair tussled and his mouth and chin covered in my juices. As I thought, Jeremy's name flashed up on the screen. I answered, "Hello, darling, where are you?"

"Sorry I'm late, darling. I'm just about to pull up at the front of the hotel. Meet me outside."

"OK. Won't be a moment. Just got to say goodbye to Jenny." I lied, switching off the phone.

I turned to Steve. "I've got to go."

"I guess so," he said in a resigned tone, "Just as things were getting interesting."

I raced into the bathroom and desperately began fixing my hair and make up.

"Can I see you again?" queried Steve standing in the doorway of the bathroom, fastening the belt of his jeans.

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea." I replied uncertainly.

"Well at least can I send you some flowers at your workplace?"

In a panic to get out I fished out a business card and handed it to him. I leaned over, put my hand on his shoulder and kissed Steve.

More as a statement than a question he smiled, saying, "I guess that's good bye then."

With that I ran out the door and took the lift to the hotel foyer and strode purposefully outside. I immediately spotted Jeremy's Jaguar and opened the passenger door to be greeted by the smell of his cigars. I fixed him with a welcoming smile which was duly reciprocated. Patting the pocket of his camel overcoat he boasted, "Got the tickets," and we headed towards the theatre. On the way Jeremy turned up Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring' up full blast and I sat back quietly and allowed the events of the last hour to sink in.

Strangely I didn't feel as guilty as I expected to be. I had just been unfaithful to my husband on our wedding anniversary and yet I was feeling so alive. I had just done things to a man which even a street hardened hooker would have blanched at and yet it didn't feel as though it was me who did it. Having parked the car we made our way to the theatre bar where Jeremy ordered drinks for the interval. I also asked for a strong gin and tonic as I still had Steve's taste in my mouth. I marvelled at the type of person with whom I had just performed the most erotic oral sex. A glorified London barrow boy with a silver tongue – in more ways than one! I then felt my mobile phone vibrate in my handbag. Someone had texted me a message. It was probably my sister, I thought, wishing me a happy anniversary. I opened the inbox and saw a message from a number I didn't recognise. I opened it.

You still horny? XXX Steve

Shit, I thought. He must have got my number from the business card. What an idiot I was.

At that point Jeremy returned with our drinks.

"Excuse me a moment, darling, I just need to nip to the loo."

In the bathroom I opened the message and thought for a moment as to what to text back. Common sense told me to just end this now. Don't reply. He won't bother you again.

Instead my thumbs worked quickly over the keypad.

Yes. Why? XXX

I rejoined Jeremy who made a point of looking at his watch. "Come on, darling, the bell rang minutes ago." As we made our way to our seats the lights dimmed but I kept my mobile at my side. Five minutes into the performance my mobile flashed up a message received. My heart began to beat in anticipation as I then surreptitiously opened up the inbox.