She had known she wanted him from the very moment she had laid eyes on him, of that she was absolutely certain. Jessica eyed him up in much the same way a lioness might regard a lone wildebeest, and licked her lips. He wasn't overly attractive at all, he was remarkably average in virtually every respect. He was in his early forties with a gradual (albeit still noticeable) receding hair line. His slightly too tight jumper and shirt combo betrayed the dad bod that hid underneath that was just shy of a full blown beer gut.
His seemingly permanent five o'clock shadow on his jaw was peppered with grey, and his face was lacerated with wrinkles and laugh lines. Vague curly plumes of hair poked out from under his sleeves and occasionally through his shirt when he accidentally missed a button in the morning. He was almost old enough to be her father, and was hardly a silver fox in that regard.
The mug he kept at the office was a Star Wars one, he laughed too loud at his own bad jokes and at every office party he would sing Don't Stop Believin' at the top of his lungs and off key. Dave Ward was hardly an Adonis, and Jessica had claimed much more sought after prizes.
No, the thing that made Jessica Darleston so desperate to have Dave was the little gold band on the fourth finger of his left hand. It was the photo on his desk of himself stood beside a beautiful, though tired eyed, blonde woman and their two sons. There was nothing that Jessica loved more than married men. The more wholesome they were, the more delicious she found them. There was something so tempting about making good men fall, about corrupting and seducing honourable, doting husbands and fathers, and wrapping them around her little finger. Once you had them, they were yours forever.
Oh the bad husbands were fun too of course, but the thrill was far less intense with them. Men who cheat on their wives only did so for about three reasons: Loneliness, Desperation and Greed. By far the most common of these were the greedy men, those who had probably forsaken their marriage vows during the reception with a drunk bridesmaid. These were the men who only ever wanted more and more and more, and were never satisfied. More than anything else, they were the easiest to ensnare. Simply wear something a little revealing and glance at them over the rim of a drink, and they'd have you pinned against the wall in a cubicle in the men's room in no time. They were fun, sure, they were the bad boys who grew up but never grew good.
Every girl who had ever wanted the wrong boy at school was all too familiar with the greedy husband. Obviously there was something about fucking a man who evidently cared so little about other people that he'd throw the sanctity of his marriage away for a skirt who's name he didn't even know that made her skin tingle. But it wasn't a hunt, there was no thrill of the chase. The moment you made eye contact, everyone knew how the story was going to end and the payoff didn't have the same electric thrill.
The lonely men were the ones Jessica always felt kind of sorry for. They all had different reasons for being lonely of course, some had frigid, prudish wives who would be better suited to a convent than a marriage bed, or perhaps they were married to modern, career driven women who spent more time on the road than they did at home. Occasionally they had married the female equivalent of the greedy husband who wrapped her legs around every man that wasn't her husband for the price of a fruity cocktail and cab fare. Whether she was a greedy slut, a thoroughly modern go getter, or a nun, they always left their poor hubby all pent up with nowhere to go. Nine out of ten times if he cried after sex, he was a lonely husband. Through the tears they would always thank her.
There was the intermingled sensations of humiliation that they had just committed the carnal sin against their marriage, muddled with the elation of finally being able to release in a way that they hadn't been able to for too long, years in some cases. And just like with the greedy husbands, they were all too easy to claim. A little bit of tenderness, a hint of human connection and they crumbled like old cheese.
But then you had the desperate men, and these were the absolute best. Desperation came in many forms, but always it could be used to her advantage. Desperate husbands do not want to cheat on their wives, no, they're entirely too good for that. They are happy, they keep a photo of their family in their wallet, they probably haven't even looked at a porn site in years regardless of how much action they're getting. No, desperate husbands do not want to cheat on their wives, they have to do it. Desperation could be induced in many ways: place them in a compromising situation and do not let them out; offer something that appeals to their unyielding primal urges; push them too far so they can never come back. Oftentimes, if you offered them something they did not get at home, he couldn't help but want it more and more and more.