Forsake Your Vows update

Peter was waiting for her, awed by Mary Jane’s polished beauty, eager to show her off around the hotel where he’d spent so many evenings. He suggested a few drinks before dinner and led her into the hotel bar. They walked through the dimly lit room to a small booth against the wall.

Mary Jane smiled contentedly as a waitress came over for their orders. She watched the attractive little blonde give Peter a warm smile—then she eyed her thoroughly. Watching as she walked back to the bar to fetch their drinks.

Nice legs, Mary Jane had to admit. And a real cute body. Her eyes had been awful bright as she spoke with Peter too.

Mary Jane realized the waitress had stopped short when she’d discovered Peter was with someone. She’d been about to say something to him that she didn’t end up saying.

She felt anger flowing through her, then forced it down. She wasn’t going to go there again. Harboring doubt after doubt after doubt about Peter had gotten her into enough trouble. Why shouldn’t the waitress know Peter? He was a personable guy. He’d probably been in and out of the restaurant the entire time he’d been staying here. Half the staff was probably friendly with him.

And that was why he wanted to show her off—he was proud of her. Mary Jane dug her nails into her thigh, punishing herself for looking for an excuse to lambaste their marriage once again.

Making herself appreciate all she had with Peter, she smiled affectionately across the table at him. He reached over and took her hand, his grip a blend of love and sensuality. Mary Jane felt his thumb run over her creamy skin, stirring faint feelings of need and belonging. She probed out with her leg under the table to rub her foot along his calf. His eyes lit up and Mary Jane leaned back contentedly, thrusting her breasts out to further invite his gaze.

The waitress came back with their drinks. “Cranberry cocktail for the gentleman and a negroni spritz for the girlfriend.”

“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend. We’re married.”

The blonde faced Mary Jane with a frozen stare for a second. Rictus-like, she set the drink down in front of her. Then she picked Peter’s drink back up and poured it on top of his head. The moment it was empty, she slammed it down on the tabletop and whirled away. Her hips swung as she stormed off.

Mary Jane watched her swinging ass, then looked at the blank expression on Peter’s face. He didn’t even look guilty! She started to rage, then forced herself to be calm. She picked up her glass and threw the contents in Peter’s face before rising and walking out of the hotel.

***

At home she stood under the shower for a long time. She felt cleaner, but still unsettled. What had happened that night was deep inside her and she couldn’t scrub it away without difficulty. Like a splinter, it would just have to work its way out of her. She didn’t know how to dig it out.

She heard heavy footsteps outside. Peter. She turned off the shower and threw on her robe, trying to control her panting anger as she walked out to confront him. Didn’t he know enough to stay away until she’d calmed down enough not to say something she regretted?

She found Eddie there instead.

“It’s you,” she sighed irritably.

“I noticed the lights on,” he said. “I knew you shouldn’t be here, so I thought I’d check. Everything okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

“How about we just drink then?”

“I think there’s some scotch in the kitchen. And some wine.”

Mary Jane pulled off her shower cap and shook out her long mane of hair. She went into the kitchen. Eddie followed her. She didn’t want him to, but she knew there was no way to stop him from picking up on how nervous she was, how jumpy.

“I’ll take the Scotch,” Eddie said.

“I need it more.”

“What’s with you? Seriously?”

Mary Jane found the half-empty bottle, which was mainly used while entertaining, and poured herself a drink. She gulped down what she’d poured so thirstily that she might as well have drunk straight from the bottle.

“Peter,” she growled. “He’s been screwing someone else. I only found out about it tonight.”

“Shit.” With sympathy that seemed natural, even instinctual, Eddie reached out and stroked a lock of hair away from her eyes. “I’m so sorry, MJ.”

She gave a bleak shrug. Filled her glass once more. “Have one with me?” she asked. “You don’t want me to drink alone, do you? That’s what alcoholics do.”

“You’re no alcoholic. Alcoholics love the stuff. You hate it. You’re drinking it because you’re mad at yourself.”

“Then why’d you want it?”

Eddie scratched the back of his neck. “Just to have it. Forget about everything for a while.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mary Jane got a glass from the cupboard and ice from the freezer and scotch from the bottle. She clinked her glass against his before putting some distance between them. “Why am I mad at myself? Peter’s the one who cheated.”

“Because you blame yourself and you hate that you’re blaming yourself.”

“I don’t like being angry at Peter. But I can’t forgive him either. And I can’t forgive myself. So drinking is my None Of The Above answer.” And Mary Jane drank. “What about you? Oh, right, just because.”

“I don’t want to make you feel awkward. I want to listen to you, to give you some support—”

“You want to fuck me.”

“Yes, but that can wait. Want me to be angry at Peter for you?”

“Still good at it?”

“It’s been a while, but I have a long memory.”

They took the bottle with them to the living room. Mary Jane sat on the sofa and Eddie on one of the easy chairs. He launched into a long, bitter tirade against Peter. Mary Jane listened a bit dolefully—glad to have it aired out, a little ashamed of herself for agreeing with so much of it, but mainly content to sit and nod and drink.

The scotch made her all warm, tingly. Mostly it emptied her out. After a while, she didn’t feel much of anything except a desire that her bathrobe wasn’t made out of satin.

It was too damn slippery—hard to keep her skirt down over her thighs and knees. And the sash was constantly coming loose. With every move, it tried again to come undone.

Her proud breasts shoved against the part of her robe until the lapels gaped open, like they were trying to show more and more of her smooth, tanned cleavage.

As she was drained of the turmoil of her feelings for Peter… like they were excised by how Eddie was railing against him, given voice and then allowed to flitter away far, far from her subconscious… she found that she was really feeling only the cool, slippery satin against her warmly receptive skin.

It was a delicious feeling, especially the gentle rasp on her so-sensitive nipples, like the satin was lovingly biting her there. She tried to think up an excuse to get up and change. But it felt nice, very nice, and after this long tumultuous day, Mary Jane couldn’t really think of something she wanted except to feel nice.

In front of Eddie she felt immodestly taboo, yet relaxed despite that. Especially since he was venting so obsessively about Peter that he paid Mary Jane only the scantest attention. After he’d railed on for a bit, she stopped really hearing him. Instead, Mary Jane just looked at him, feeling pleased with the sight and the low-key trance she was in.

MJ didn’t know how long she floated about in her voluptuous daze. She shifted in her seat to get more comfortable and felt tired and a little too warm for true comfort. She came back to herself, not with a jerk but like a flame that’d guttered for a while and then flared back to brightness.

Eddie had stopped talking.

His eyes were fixed on her. Otherwise, he seemed to have sunken into the same sort of trance she’d been in. He wasn’t staring at her with the keen interest in what she was feeling and saying that he had been before. No, his eyes were lower.

Mary Jane glanced down and saw that the sash of her bathrobe had completely slipped loose, released by her unconscious efforts to get comfortable. The satin was wide open, her body exposed all the way down to her glistening thicket of pubic hair. Flushing with embarrassment, Mary Jane covered herself again.

“Thank God the kids aren’t here,” she said breathlessly. “I don’t want to explain any tattoos to them.”

“Don’t,” Eddie said softly, his face briefly pained at her body being hidden.

“Eddie!” Mary Jane admonished, but her voice wasn’t convincing. It was like she was reciting a line, not performing it.

“There’s no need.”

“Eddie, I’m married.”