Rachel’s Debt (Chapter 3 – The Past and the Pain) by AlexWebb..,
Rachel discovers a key to my past and tries to use it to end our arrangement; however, she doesn’t understand quite what she has and it costs her. , Saturday came and I still hadn’t heard from Rachel. I also wasn’t yet ready to call her for our next tryst. I certainly wanted to. In the time before Rachel, since I had last been with a woman, it had seemed that my sex drive had gone cold.
Being with Rachel had reignited it, driven it from nearly dormant to a towering inferno. To bide my time, I watched the videos of our previous encounters. She really was magnificent. She could have been a lousy fuck and it still wouldn’t have mattered, her youthful body and lascivious mind more than made up for it. She wasn’t bad in bed, though, at least in the (so-far) limited experiences I’d had with her.
The girl performed like she had spent a lifetime working in porn, learning the industry-exaggerated ways in which women were supposed to act in order to please their man. It occurred to me that she most certainly hadn’t been working in porn for all her life and that she must have a fairly active sex life, even for a teenager.
A pang of jealousy knotted my stomach. I realized I was envious of a high school boy, Rachel’s teen boyfriend Ryan, a man I had never even met. Envious. And angry. Angry because I knew that, as an inexperienced high school boy, there was no way he could truly appreciate the sexual ideal that was his girlfriend.
Re-watching her as she brought herself to a thunderous orgasm that had left my bed soaked was enough to keep my lust from boiling over. Barely. It remained simmering at a high level, no matter how many times I brought myself off watching her gorgeous pink lips wrapped around my cock, her hair pooling on my thighs as she bobbed her head up and down vigorously in my lap.
Of course, my near-perpetual state of arousal made it hard to keep my fingers from dialing her number, but I was currently enslaved by feelings that were, incredibly, even stronger than my lust. Namely, fear, guilt, embarrassment, and what I knew was nothing more than a simple crush, but, having been alone so long, felt like so much more.
Realistically, what I had done was easily explainable. Maybe she had already forgotten all about it. Riding the tail end of two powerful orgasms, we had collapsed on the bed into a comfortable pile of naked flesh. Perhaps, had I not inadvertently draped my arm around her shoulder, the moment would’ve remained completely unremarkable.
Still, while I knew I could easily explain away a temporary lapse in judgment to Rachel, I would have a much tougher time convincing myself. In the quiet moments at night, I wasn’t dreaming about fucking the minxy teenager; I was reminiscing about the smell of her perfume and the soft, silky feel of her hair against my chest. After dozing off, she would continue to visit me, while a miserable woman watched us through tear-stained hazel eyes. Sometimes I saw her, staring at me in obvious pain; other times I only heard her quiet sobs.
Fortunately, I was saved from reliving the brunette’s obvious pain by the beeping of my phone. I had a message from Rachel. Unfortunately, I still hadn’t decided what to do about her, what to say to her.
-Drove by ur house, saw u got ur truck back
-I did.
-And? What’s my total?
-$1250. If you want to be technical $1262.38, but I think we can round it down.
-Will u be home today at noon? I have something for u
-Come over whenever you’re ready.
She didn’t respond, leaving me instead to wonder over exactly what she was bringing me. A restraining order, or even an arrest warrant (and accompanying police officer), seemed most likely. What was even more frightening, even more than the idea of being arrested for rape, was the idea that she might show up with a check for the full amount, concluding their deal in a less consequential, but equally final, manner.
*****
Rachel’s truck pulled into my driveway at 10 to noon. As eager as I was to see her, her early arrival held an air of foreboding. Seeing her exiting her truck, I opened the front door, waiting for her. She brushed past me, kissing my cheek as she passed, a huge smile on her face. She sat down on my couch, a manila folder clutched in her lap. She seemed to be practically vibrating with anticipation, but I was focused on that folder. Rachel watched me closely, waving the folder in front of her. Had I been able to draw my eyes away from it, I might’ve noticed how broad her smile had grown, how it seemed almost…evil.
She clutched the folder to her chest, lowering it enough that her ample cleavage hung tantalizingly above it. Clad in a perilously low-cut blouse, I still couldn’t draw my eyes away from the dangerous folder in her lap. Noticing that she controlled my attention without even using her perfectly-formed breasts, she purred, “You probably want what’s in this folder, don’t you?”
Biting on the edge of it, her eyes locked on mine, she continued, “More than you want what’s in here?” She drew her other hand across her crotch, rubbing her pussy through her jeans. I lowered my head, closing my eyes and breathing deeply through my nose, trying to control the mix of emotions rattling through my brain. Placing the folder in her lap, she pulled down on the front of her blouse, exposing the top of her lacy bra. She finally managed to pull my eyes from whatever document she had resting in her lap, but she couldn’t completely draw my attention. “Maybe we should just wait on that, what do you think?”
“No. What is it?”
“You sure? You want what’s in here?” she asked, picking up the folder and waving it in front of her face. “More than what’s in here?” Unbuttoning her jeans, she stuck her hand down inside her panties.
I sighed. If it was my arrest warrant, it was probably best I don’t compound it with whatever else she was offering first. “What is it?”
She grinned at me, holding the folder over. Looking into her eyes, I saw for the first time the malevolence in her face. She stared intently into my eyes as she handed the folder over. It felt heavy in my hands, like whatever was in it had been engraved in lead. I opened the folder up, feeling like it was pulsing in my hands, as though it had its own heartbeat. I couldn’t break my gaze away from her piercing blue eyes, though. She looked as excited to have me see it as I had been to have her in my house, and whatever could make her feel like that scared me. Finally, when it felt like my gaze was being perpetually sucked into the black hole held in my own two hands, when it seemed like Rachel’s smile was in danger of splitting her face in two if it grew any wider, I looked down at what I held.
The folder contained a single piece of 8.5” by 11” glossy photo paper. Printed on that sheet was the face of a beautiful brunette, her hazel eyes shining magnificently underneath the veil of her wedding dress. “Amber. Leigh. Holcum.” She paused between each word, letting them hang in the air between us. I could feel Rachel’s gaze boring into me from the couch, just as my wife’s did from the photo in my hands. “Oh,” she asked, mock-innocently. “Do you know her?”