Cheating on a Cheating Wife by RetroFan
INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER – Who is the most whipped guy you have ever met? It might be your brother-in-law, who married your bossy sister Karen. It might the fat guy next door, who gets bossed around by his hot mail-order wife dawn until dusk. It might be a work colleague who constantly gets calls from the missus all day with lists of orders. It might even be you.
However, if you travelled to the Australian city of Melbourne and met Jeff, you would probably re-assess this. Jeff is married to Libby, a hot health and fitness celebrity, a grown up mean girl who demeans and completely controls him while having an affair with her much younger lover Todd, who Jeff despises.
But can Jeff overcome the fear of his domineering wife and develop his little crush on Montana, the pretty girl next door, into his own affair? And what of Montana’s best friend Bailey, a pretty redhead who might be the wildcard in the pack?
Read ‘Cheating On A Cheating Wife’ to find out. Please note that it has some scenes involving female characters using the toilet and having their periods, so it may not be for everyone’s taste. All characters are aged 18 and older and they and all situations in the story are fictional, with any similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional.
Please enjoy and rate and comment, and look for two Easter Eggs in the story that link this to two of my other stories. If you find the Easter Eggs, let me know in the comments below.
*
A crowd is in many ways the stalker’s best friend. There were certainly plenty of people in abundance today as I stood behind a plane tree not far from Victoria’s State Library buildings, watching the people emerging from the Melbourne Central complex and onto Swanston and La Trobe Streets.
Melbourne Central was a busy place, housing a multi-level shopping center under a glass cone, restaurants, a cinema and a fitness center. A large and distinctive black office tower with two antennae on the roof dominated the structure, and in the underground levels one could find a train station. I had spent some time in the shopping center beforehand, watching a charming musical clock as it chimed the hour and played ‘Waltzing Matilda’, a display of robotic birds dancing as the bottom of the clock came away, then slid back up again when it finished its cycle.
Somewhat ironically being distracted by a clock, I had lost track of time and had to hurry across the road to wait for her to arrive. I didn’t want her to see me, or know I was about. I kept a watch for her to arrive fearing she may not appear, but soon I saw her. Dressed in a white short-sleeved blouse, a floral skirt well above her knees and a pair of white sandals, expensive sunglasses on her pretty face. She turned right, heading south down Swanston Street, talking on her mobile phone.
Making sure to keep among the crowds, I trailed her down Swanston Street watching as she crossed Lonsdale Street. She didn’t know I was there, I might as well have been invisible. Cars were not permitted to drive along Swanston with the exception of emergency and some delivery vehicles, it was all bicycles and pedestrians however trams ran along here and you had to watch for them. It was a tram forced to come to a stop and ring its bell when some idiots walked right out in front of it that blocked my view of her. I thought I might have lost sight of her in the crowds, but I hurried through the many people near Chinatown and picked her up again and continued following her.
She was so absorbed in her mobile phone I don’t think she would have noticed if a gorilla, an elephant or a dinosaur were following her, but it was best to be wary so I kept to the other side of the road. I thought she might turn into the Bourke Street Pedestrian Mall when she looked up at the tall grey banking center building located there. I prepared to cross the road to follow her, but she instead continued on her path and I continued to trail her.
When she reached the corner of Collins Street, Melbourne’s busiest she finally did turn and walked westerly. I was able to rush across and get to the other side, and continued to follow my target down Collins Street. With all the tall buildings here, it was a bit of a wind tunnel, and a gust blew up her skirt, showing me and many others that she was wearing white bikini style knickers today.
It was a bit hard keeping track of her along Collins Street from the other side, she was walking very fast and I had to break a couple of pedestrian traffic laws so as to keep level with her when the traffic lights changed in her favor, but not mine.
I watched as she finally stopped outside a hotel not far from the Rialto Towers buildings, ending her phone call and putting her phone back in her shoulder bag. I took refuge behind a tram stop to look at her as she stood waiting outside, fighting a losing battle to keep her skirt down and not show her knickers to everyone passing by on a windy Melbourne autumn day.
Then I saw the person I was expecting to see coming from the direction of King Street. It was him. He was here. Dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans. I didn’t know whether I wanted him to appear or not, it was hard to explain even to myself. I watched intently as he approached her and they exchanged a cordial greeting. I could see their left hands, on her ring finger she wore an engagement ring and wedding band. He had no ring on his left finger. I could not hear what they were saying of course due to the distance and the noise of trams, trucks, cars and people on Collins Street, but it appeared professional and businesslike.
They turned and went into the hotel. Perhaps it was for a business meeting? Yes that had to be it. It was a hotel, hotels had conference rooms. However, as I stood outside hiding behind some mu-mu clad land whale lady who was eating a doughnut, they crossed the lobby and pressed the buttons for the lifts. The purpose of their visit to the hotel was definitely pleasure not business. I turned around and walked forlornly back up Collins Street.
*
About 15 minutes later, I stood on the Princes Bridge looking at the muddy brown waters of the Yarra River flowing underneath. There were no end of sights to enjoy here, and indeed lots of tourists were on the bridge taking photographs and selfies.
Looking down the river westerly and to the city’s northern side I looked at the tall blue buildings of the Rialto, a gothic bank building and the white Bourke Place Tower among plenty of other skyscrapers and the increasing number of apartment blocks springing up around the Melbourne CBD in recent years. A glance across the river to Southbank where the promenade bustled people and the Williamstown ferry departed from the dock were the casino, shopping centers and a multitude of tall buildings, the largest of which — the silver Eureka Tower — was Melbourne’s tallest.
I looked back towards the Eastern end of the city, seeing the iconic Flinders Street railway station, Federation Square and more tall office towers, two art deco skyscrapers dominating the skyline in this part of town. I looked in the opposite direction across the Princes Bridge, trams gliding by in each direction some headed for the city and Swanston Street, others on their way to St Kilda Beach, Prahran and South Melbourne. Further down across the Yarra I could see the Melbourne Cricket Ground and the Tennis Center at Melbourne Park, the Botanic Gardens across the river from them.