“Get work.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Get real.” I scorned. “You know I can’t. And who in his right mind would hire me.”
“You’re in your thirties,” She heaved her legs then put her feet, with her pumps still on, in my lap. “And attractive. Try waitressing.”
“You remember how my first waitressing job went in college.”
“You cried and threw the coffee in the asshole’s face.” She chuckled. “But you never know, you might’ve goten stronger over the years.”
“I think I got weaker,” I admitted. If I ever had any kind of thick skin, it must’ve gotten softer along the days I had spent like a spoiled queen in that damn house.
Morgan sighed. I had a feeling that she wasn’t in the mood to hear my bullshit. “You’re stronger than you think.” She said, making me blush despite not actually believing her. “Can you take my shoes off please,” she said.
“Sure…” I looked down at her feet and reached for her pump, but stopped when I noticed what was wrapped around her ankle. I chuckled. “You’re unbelievable. That’s a new one isn’t it.” I nodded towards the silver anklet on her foot.
She gave me one of her weird looks as her lips curled up in a sly smile. “You like it.”
“It’s pretty.” I took her first pump off and let it tumble to the floor. “You know if you didn’t spend half your salary on damn anklets you might be a millionaire by now.”
“I woman gotta spoil herself hun,” She smiled and wiggled her ankle around my face. “I’m done waiting for some asshole to do that.”
I raised my eyebrows in an approving gesture, feeling a mixture of admiration and jealousy in me. I’d never liked to switch places with someone as much as I did now. Her life didn’t come without its headaches for sure, an angry boss, a dumb colleague, a pathetic whining friend who’d keep hogging her precious time. But I couldn’t help it. She was my only friend and I needed her. For now, all I could do is take advantage of her kindness.
“I keep thinking about them Morgan,” I said.
She nodded, her face getting a bit impatient. “Uhah.”
I ignored her annoyed face and continued, “I keep fearing that he might bring her to the house, or something, While I’m not there. What if he already did. What if he’s fucking her on my bed right now as we speak, I mean what’s stopping him—”
“Honey.” She snapped. “You either get the fuck out of there or you get the fuck out of there. I don’t know how else to put it.” She held her hands in the air like she was saying the obvious. “I mean, either that, or you’ll have to put up with feeling pathetic and humiliated while he’s fucking around half the woman in the city until one finally convinces him to throw your ass in the street. You’re just prolonging the inevitable.”
“What if he never does.”
“…Never commits to another woman you mean?”
“Yeah,” I said, hoping that she didn’t find my point too pathetic. My worst fear wasn’t to have to put up with him screwing around, but having to leave my beautiful cozy house.
“…You’re saying that… you’re okay with him cheating if it means he’ll keep you in the house like a good wife.” Her face was passive, but her eyes were just sharp enough to give me a hint of her disappointment.
“…Maybe?”
“Well, you’re free to do that.” she nodded aggressively, unsuccessful in hiding her irritation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some clients to call.” She tried to get her feet off my lap but I held them there.
“Nonono…” I whined at her. “Stay just for a little while. Come on work can wait. I wanna talk.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not gonna be your crying-cushion through all of this.”
“Not through all of this,” I whined. “Just for a while…come on.” I gave her my best pleading eyes, and jokingly pecked the tops of her feet a couple of times. She laughed despite herself, then looked at me and crossed her arms, pursing her lips at me.
“Fine.” She said and crossed her feet in my lap, but her face still betrayed displeasure.
“Look I’ll be useful,” I said and started working my fingers on her bare soles. “You must be tensed after a long day in those heels,” I knead her soles with my thumps. “So just sit back, relax, and listen to my whining.”
“Well, that’s tempting, I guess.” She giggled and leaned back putting her hands behind her head.
I smiled at her and kept rubbing. I should probably give her a couple of minutes before I start pouring my heart out at her.
Morgan
Those few last lines spoken between us made me see Judy in a new light. I knew she wasn’t what one would consider a strong woman. But to actually hear her say that she was prepared to put up with him fooling around, just so she would be allowed to stay in her comfy little house and not have to work, was a shock to me, to say the least.
I leaned back, trying to keep a straight face while she complained, and complained, and complained. She had hit right at my weakness. I couldn’t refuse a foot rub right now, especially from her. My feet were sore as hell. I sat there and watched Judy work her hands on the feet of the woman fucking her husband. All the while I was doing my best not to rub myself to an orgasm right there on the couch.
I wasn’t proud of what I had been doing for the past several months. It had started with an insane fantasy, just an image that popped into my head out of nowhere, and refused to leave. I’d never know what was so special about fucking your best friend’s husband, or why did it feel so damn good?
Maybe it was about degradation, debasement, given that I was gushing at her rubbing my feet, oblivious to the fact that I had just returned not from work, but from the hotel room in which I and Mark were fucking our brains out.
When the whole thing had started, when that dick came to my apartment half-drunk and made his move at me, I did the right thing and I slapped him and kicked him out, determined to tell Judy the very next day. But while I sat in my desk working that day, I just couldn’t remove the image of me and Mark making out, while Judy sat in her little home doing chores. I was disgusted, for a while. I didn’t even find Mark the least bit attractive. He was full of himself, too much into his looks, and had brains not smarter than my shoe. It was all about Judy, and I knew it. I wanted to fuck Judy’s husband.
At first, I hoped to get a couple of shags with the stud without Judy knowing and without having to hear her cry about it. I knew it was a long shot, as I was her only friend. But every day, the urge in me grew, and watching her work her hands on my feet now, kicked my fantasies up to a whole other level. I didn’t want to just betray her behind her back anymore, that wasn’t enough, I wanted her to know. I wanted her to know everything. I wanted her to know that she’d been wearing my anklets around her neck for months.
She never put real effort into knowing who Mark’s mistress was, I guess she didn’t want to know. Seeing the woman’s face had to be too harsh for her, like it would somehow make it more real.
I would like to think that I would be strong enough to resist taking my fantasy to this level, from which there would be no coming back. But I knew myself better than that. My curious little cunt had been what got his shit started. It had won then, and sooner or later it would win again. I took a deep breath as tens of scenarios popped up in my head. Every scenario was unique, but had one thing in common, me taking everything from under Judy’s nose, right in front of her, laughing right in her face as I do it, and Judy on her knees humiliated beneath me, under my mercy. Nothing could make the difference between us clearer. My strength and her weakness. My strong personality and her lack of backbone.