A Double Whammy

****Some content may not be suitable for minors. Explicit descriptions of a sexual nature.****

A Double Whammy

by

Cara Fidler

"What in the hell is this??!" she said outloud, as she stared in disbelief at a picture of her lover in bed with another, much younger, woman. She found the picture quite by accident when she checked the pockets of his slacks for loose change before tossing the pants into the washing machine. "Bastard!!!Liar!!!" she exclaimed, as she reeled in the wake of this devastating hit. She was the housekeeper and mistress to a man named Steve, who was a wonderful lover, and his wife, Sandy. 

While Sandy played golf, she and Steve stole time between the sheets devouring each other, making mad, passionate love. The torrid affair had been going on for two years, now, unbeknownst to Sandy. The thought of him getting down and dirty doing the same things they did to each other with another woman, who didn't look a day over twenty-five. sent her into a tailspin. "Jaime..." Sandy called from the top of the basement stairs, "Can you come up here and help me with my luggage?" 

"Be right there!" she yelled, folding the picture in half and stuffing it into a bag of potting soil sitting next to the washer. She collected herself as best she could, slapped a smile on her face and smoothed her hair, then ran up the stairs. "Good morning, Sandy." 

"Good morning Jaime. I need you to help me put these in the car...I'm running late and don't want to miss my plane." 

"Sure, Sandy," she said, as she picked up the carryon bag and a suitcase and headed outside to the car with Ernie and Daphne, their two Welsh Corgis, on her heels.

"They need to be walked. Don't forget to water the plants, pick up my clothes at the cleaners, defrost the roast beef, and feed the fish." she said, as she got into the car and started the engine.

"Have a great time in San Diego," Jaime said, smiling, while inwardly she was seething, her mind racing. The only thing she was thinking about was her overwhelming urge to confront Steve with the picture, and the sooner the better. 

After Sandy left, she walked the dogs and fed them, went back downstairs to the basement and reached into the bag of potting soil to retrieve the picture, then stood there glaring at it. She sat down on a stool, deep in thought. When Sandy went out of town, the usual modus operandi was for her and Steve to make a day of it: enjoying some great sex, drinking and eating, sunning themselves outside by the pool. 

It was just 9:30 and Steve was going to return home at 11 a.m. How dare he deceive her like this? She had gone out of her way to accommodate him--in and out of bed---running errands for him, giving up her days off when they had their barbecues which required a great deal of preparation; deveining shrimp, polishing the furniture and the silverware, setting up the patio, lugging bags of ice and stocking the coolers, setting up the bar, even cleaning the pool. Both of them were meticulous and attention to detail was of the utmost importance. Buying fresh flowers for the many vases in the home, arranging the hors deuvres perfectly on silver platters, cutting up fresh fruit, making lemonade and freshly squeezed orange juice for their cocktails were just a few of the details they insisted upon.  

At one time she had been beautiful with a perfect figure. Now, at the age of 53, tho she still had a pretty face, there was no denying that her beauty had faded. Evenso, she was still confident that she brought a lot to the table, particularly, where men were concerned. Steve wasn't the only fish in the sea, despite his boyish good looks and considerable skill in performing oral sex, the likes of which, she'd been hardpressed to find in other lovers who paled in comparison to him, but who had other assets that made up for this shortcoming. 

A plan was taking shape. She was determined to pull the rug out from under him in no small way. Time to get busy. She chilled a bottle of good champagne, took a bath, put on a hot pink teddy, sprayed her favorite perfume on the nape of her neck, applied her makeup carefully and styled her hair.

A cum laude graduate of Columbia, she wasn't about to be undone or underestimated by the likes of Steve Griffith, who unlike her, came from humble beginnings, unlike the affluent background she had---both of her parents were surgeons--- and that was still as much a part of her as her azure blue eyes were. Prior to working as a housekeeper she had been an investment banker in a Wall Street firm, where she had burned herself out for some fifteen years.

Too many 60-hour work weeks had taken a toll. She traded that in for a simpler life, a less frenetic pace, having socked away close to a hundred grand, and took the job working for Steve and Sandy for a much needed change. She was not about to be undone by Steve, or any other man, a lesson she had learned well working side by side in a male-dominated field.  

At five of eleven she posed seductively on top of the goose-down comforter in the bed where the two of them had made love with reckless abandon more times than she could say. She heard his Corvette pull into the driveway, then the sound of the garage door opening. As usual, he bolted up the stairs and stood there at the entrance to the bedroom, smiling devilishly at the sight of her waiting for him. "Hi honey," he said, not wasting any time as he removed his tie and shirt while thinking: "I'm going to fuck her brains out..." 

"Hey," she said, her lips curving into a playful smile. She lit a scented candle on the table beside the bed. Lilac. "Get over here..." she said, her slender index finger beckoning to him. 

Steve got into bed next to her and drank her in..."Look at you," he said, appreciatively..."Aren't you a picture." He kissed her passionately and caressed her ample breasts. "Take that thing off," he commanded. 

She did as she was told. She was determined to get even, but not until she'd received one of his exquisite, mind blowing orgasms. He headed south, eager to taste her. Jaime was great in the sack, unlike Sandy, who wasn't nearly as enthusiastic or appreciative of his efforts.

He began pleasuring her which set off the usual chain reaction...lots of moaning and begging him not to stop: "Right there...oh yes...don't stop...." she moaned. "Ohhhhh.....don't stop!!! she cried, immersed in the incomparable pleasure of his tongue licking her so skillfully and effortlessly, like Matisse stroking his sable brush on a canvas. 

"Ohhhhh....ohhhh......don't stop!!!" 

"Come for me, baby..." he said.

Then she came hard as he lifted her up and off to a place that enveloped every single one of her sense's in the most glorious explosion of mind and body drifting blissfully to an intoxicating oasis that was the closest thing to heaven on earth. 

She laid there breathlessly and when he gazed into her eyes, she kissed him deeply. She laid there feeling wonderful, as usual. 

What jolted her back to reality and punctured the afterglow was hearing Steve's voice say, "My turn," as he laid on his back, waiting in feverish anticipation for another one of Jaime's great blow jobs. She summoned as much wherewithal and determination as she could muster, so that she could deliver the fatal blow. 

She slipped her hand into the satin pillowcase, pulled out the picture, and said: "Who in the fuck is this?" as she held the photo in front of his face. He bolted upright and sat there not saying anything. Fuck, he thought, knowing that anything he might say would be an effort in futility. Mt. Vesuvius had erupted in his face.

"Cat got your tongue?" she said angrily, waving the picture in front of him, pleased to see the intended effect of her actions in the expression on Steve's face. 

He sat there feeling desperate and said, "She's nobody...that happened before I started up with you," he lied.

"Bullshit!! It's a recent picture and it was in the pants you wore the other day!!!"

Now what? he thought. He took a shot and blew it. The only other thing to do was say nothing.

Just then, Sandy appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. "Good God!!! Right under my nose!!!"she screamed...."and you....you whore!!! Get out of my bed. You're fired!!! Get the fuck out of my house."

Naked, Jaime got out of bed, grabbed her robe from the chair and raced out of the bedroom. She threw on some clothes as they went at it full bore screaming at each other. "How could you?!!!"she exclaimed in disbelief. "And what is this??" Jaime realized that Sandy must've seen the picture of Steve with the bimbo. A double whammy for her...not just the maid, but a twentysomething, too.

"What are you... spying on me??? You're supposed to be in San Diego." Steve said, angrily.

"The flight was cancelled...and it's a damn good thing!" Sandy shot back. "Right under my roof in my bed!" she exclaimed.

"The marriage was over a long time ago," Steve yelled. "You're in love with a golf ball." he said flatly.

"That doesn't justify what you did," she shot back.

Jaime grabbed her purse and her car keys and bolted down the stairs while the two of them blasted each other, thinking to herself, "I sure as hell didn't see that coming." Now, who had the rug pulled out from under her. She got in her car and sped off, headed for home. Discombobulated, she pulled into the driveway of her bungalow and went inside where she poured herself a glass of vodka, sat down on the couch and started bawling. 

She was going to miss Steve despite what he'd done to her. She wiped her tears away and chugged the vodka, then picked up the phone and dialed Jay's number. What Steve didn't know was that, she too, had cheated on him. 

"Jay..." she said, "It's Jaime...can you come over?" she chirped.

After she hung up, she proceeded to freshen herself up for Jay's arrival. The fact that she was now unemployed took a back seat to the realization that she and Steve were history. "I'm really going to miss Steve's head." she said outloud, realizing she was starved. She opened the frig and reached for the package of strawberries and a can of Reddi-Whip, sat down at the kitchen table, and proceeded to pop a juicy berry into her mouth. Hopefully Jay would be up for some fun, possibly going out for a sail on his boat. Water was so rejuvenating. With each strawberry she ate, she could feel herself perking up: It was going to be a great day.