An Unfaithful Night part 1

Sheila sighed as she wheeled her small suitcase into the luxurious hotel room, the crisp scent of fresh linen and subtle vanilla filling the air. It was a gorgeous suite, complete with a jacuzzi tub that she fully intended to indulge in later. This trip had been planned as a mini getaway with her husband, but he had opted for a guys' weekend instead, leaving her to attend the conference alone.

She tried to shake the disappointment as she freshened up. Her role as a nurse meant she was used to being independent, but that didn’t mean she didn’t crave connection. Lately, intimacy in her marriage had felt more like a chore than a desire, leaving her aching for something she couldn’t quite name.

She finished the afternoon lecture, grateful to step away from the clinical discussions, and returned to her room to change out of her scrubs. She took her time selecting a dress that had been meant for a romantic evening with her husband, hoping it might still make her feel desirable.

After slipping into a sleek, fitted dress, she entered the elevator, heading down to the hotel bar for an evening meal. She immediately felt overdressed—her outfit had been chosen with her husband in mind, a subtle effort to rekindle something between them. Now, standing alone, she suddenly felt self-conscious, her dress hugging her curves a little too perfectly. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a man slipped in. Tall, effortlessly handsome, and dripping in confidence. His eyes met hers, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

“Here for the conference?” he asked, his voice smooth and warm.

She nodded, momentarily breathless. “Yes, and you?”

“I am. I’m here with the chiropractors. What about you, doctor?” His gaze lingered on her, playful yet intense.

“I’m a nurse,” she said, almost stuttering the answer out.

The elevator slowed to a stop, doors sliding open smoothly. He smiled slowly, eyes twinkling with playful intrigue as he stepped out. "Well, if I'm ever in need of a nurse, I'll know exactly who to ask." His voice dipped lower, carrying a mischievous promise. "Enjoy your evening."

With a final glance, he disappeared into the bustling crowd. Sheila exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath.

The following afternoon, she found herself lounging under a large umbrella by the hotel’s pool, nursing a cool cocktail. She had been flipping through emails, half-listening to the sounds of splashing water and chatter, when a shift in movement caught her attention.

It was him. Emerging from the pool, droplets of water cascaded down his toned body, dark swim trunks clinging to every defined curve.

She swallowed hard as she scanned his toned body. His arms, abs, and hands sent her mind out of control. Before she knew it, her eyes were locked on to the massive bulge in the front of his swim trunks. She wanted to look away, but it was there. “shouldn’t it shrink a little in cold water?” she thought.

His gaze met hers, and he smirked before making his way toward her. She forced herself to look away, heat creeping up her neck as she chastised herself for staring. Hypocrite, she thought. She’d been annoyed at men ogling her in the past, yet here she was, transfixed.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the lounge chair beside her. “Pool’s packed.”

She nodded, suddenly aware of the flutter in her stomach.

They introduced themselves before he leaned back on the lounge chair, stretching lazily, his movements exuding effortless charm. Sheila’s gaze drifted involuntarily to his crotch again, noticing even more details as the fabric tightened subtly with his stretch. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she silently scolded herself.

“God, Sheila, what are you doing? You’re married,” she thought, embarrassment mixing with undeniable intrigue.

“Not getting in?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Didn’t want a sunburn. And it’s a little hard to get sunscreen on my back.”

He reached for her bottle of sunscreen. “I can help with that.”

She hesitated, but before she could overthink it, she found herself turning around. A sharp inhale escaped her lips as his hands smoothed over her shoulders, his touch slow and deliberate. His fingers kneaded gently as he worked the sunscreen into her skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

“Your bikini is very sexy,” he said softly, his voice a husky whisper as he continued to rub her shoulders.

The compliment struck her mind like lightning, instantly jumbling her thoughts.

Did he just compliment me? Does he actually find me attractive, or is he just being polite? Should I thank him or act indifferent?

She never had a chance to respond—her thoughts scattered entirely as his hands moved slowly down her shoulders, gently sliding along her sides, and settling firmly on her hips. His touch was electric, sending waves of heat cascading through her body. A quick, firm squeeze of her hips made her bite her lip, suppressing a moan as she desperately fought to retain her composure.

“When was the last time you had a massage? Your back seems very tight,” he murmured, a hint of playful curiosity in his tone.

Her breath hitched. The air between them thickened, charged with an unspoken tension.

She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself this was simply a kind gesture. But the way his hands moved, the warmth of his touch seeping through her skin—this was anything but innocent.

But then, just as quickly as it began, his touch was gone. “Alright, that should do it,” he said casually, sitting back in his lounge chair.

Sheila felt stunned, as though she'd been abruptly snapped out of a trance. It was like slamming on the brakes at high speed—something powerful had been building, intensifying rapidly, only to stop suddenly, leaving her shaken and her heart pounding in her chest.

To make things even worse, he had to leave moments later for his group's conference session. She wasn’t sure how she felt; angry and sexually frustrated immediately came to mind. She briefly entertained the urge to toss her chair into the pool, but her tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by her phone ringing. It was her husband, which did nothing to soothe her nerves. With a sigh, she quickly sent the call to voicemail and headed back to her room.

After enduring a frustratingly cold shower, Sheila decided to heed his earlier suggestion and booked herself an actual massage. Perhaps he was right; she was tense, and a massage could help ease that tension. The hotel's full-service spa offered numerous enticing options, and she selected a hot stone one.

A few hours later, she emerged from the spa feeling significantly more relaxed and at peace. She pressed the elevator button, waiting quietly when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“How was it?”

Turning, she saw him standing there, a playful, devilish smile on his lips.

“How was what?” she asked, feigning confusion.

“Your massage,” he clarified, a playful glint in his eyes. “I saw you leaving when I was dropping something off.”

“It was good,” she replied softly, unable to suppress a small smile. “Thank you for recommending it.”

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in together. The hum of the elevator replaced the distant chatter of other guests as the doors closed.

“What kind did you get?” he asked casually.

“Excuse me?” Sheila hesitated, momentarily thrown off by the question.

“What type of massage?” He clarified gently. “I was a masseuse before becoming a chiropractor. Professional curiosity.”

“Oh. A hot stone massage,” she answered. “I've never tried it before, and it sounded relaxing. It definitely did the trick.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “They're great for relaxation.”

Sheila caught a subtle expression on his face. “Do you think I should've chosen differently?”

He gave a slow nod. “I think a deep tissue massage would benefit you more.”

“Alright,” she conceded lightly. “I'll remember that for next time.”

The elevator doors opened, signaling the end of their shared ride. She turned left, and he turned right but stopped suddenly.

“Oh!” he called after her, making her pause and glance back. “I've got some work to finish, but I'll be heading to the restaurant for a late dinner around nine. I'll probably be by the elevator—just in case anyone might want to keep me company.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, leaving her stunned and strangely irritated.

“Who does he think he is, questioning my massage choice? And the nerve of him assuming I'll wait until nine for dinner, like he's irresistible!” She grumbled internally all the way to her room.

Sheila threw herself onto the bed and buried her face into her pillow, letting out a frustrated scream. Truthfully, she wasn't sure what upset her more—the audacity of his assumption, the playful teasing, or the unsettling realization that she was already considering meeting him at nine. Not necessarily for dinner, she told herself defensively, but maybe just to see what he might wear.

And suddenly, she found herself wondering: What would she wear?

“So, dinner with friends you met?” her husband asked on the other end.

Sheila stood there, torn between two dresses: a long, conservative green gown or a daring blue dress with a deep V-neck and short, teasing pleats. It was the kind of dress meant to draw attention—but that's not what this was about, she told herself.

“Yeah, nothing special. Just hanging out with some people to pass the time.”

“Alright, honey. Have fun. Chris and I are heading to the bar to watch the game.”

With that, he hung up, leaving Sheila staring at her phone in disbelief. No "I love you," no warmth—just a quick goodbye. She felt her frustration rising again, a feeling becoming all too familiar despite the hotel's relaxing atmosphere.

Tossing her phone onto the bed, she opened her suitcase, pulling out the lingerie set she'd intended to surprise her husband with, perfectly matched to the blue dress.

“Well, now he can miss out,” she muttered defiantly, beginning to dress.

She had no intentions of anyone seeing the lingerie other than herself, or that’s what she was telling herself.

Thirty minutes later, she stood before the mirror, admiring herself, wondering if she looked as good as she felt.

Checking the time, she stepped into the hallway, only to see him already waiting by the elevator. It was eight forty-five. Was he early, or had he planned on leaving earlier and possibly missing her altogether?

She felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of being insignificant to him. But why should she matter? They barely knew each other, and she was married. Still, she couldn't help feeling slightly foolish as she approached him.

He stood confidently in a suit perfectly complementing her dress, broad shoulders squared, hair freshly styled, and wearing a fragrance that seemed plucked straight from her deepest fantasies.

“You look stunning,” he said softly as she neared him.

The simple compliment stole her breath. “You look quite dashing yourself,” she replied warmly.

He pressed the button, and they stepped into the elevator together.

“So, you're early,” Sheila remarked casually.

“Yes. I finished much earlier than expected, so I've been waiting here for about twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes?” she echoed, surprised.

“Yes,” he admitted gently. “I didn't know your room number, so I just waited, hoping you'd show.”

Her heart raced at his words despite her knowing they were wrong. Although she was married, she hadn't felt this alive in ages.

They found a small, quiet table in the restaurant corner, sharing appetizers and a bottle of wine, which quickly turned into two, then three.

“So, you're married?” she finally asked, noticing his wedding ring for the first time.

He nodded thoughtfully. “As are you.”

“Yes.” She hesitated briefly. “Does your wife know you're having dinner with another woman?”

“No. She prefers not to know about anything I do on business trips.”

Sheila nodded slowly, unsure how to continue but unable to suppress her curiosity. “Do you...often fool around on trips?”

He didn't seem offended, merely reflective. “No, not often, but I have before. Mostly, I keep to myself.”

She waited, bracing herself for his questions about her own marriage, but they never came. Instead, her phone vibrated, interrupting the silence.

Her husband was calling, slightly tipsy and complaining about his team's performance. Sheila quickly ended the call before he launched into his usual rant about everything he would do differently if he were the coach.

She set the phone down, suddenly distant from her own life, and her attention returned fully to the man sitting across from her.

“Is everything okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded quickly. “Yes, nothing to worry about.”

He glanced down at his watch, and Sheila felt an unexpected pang of anxiety.

"Wow, it's late. Maybe we should call it a night," he said softly."

She knew it was nearly midnight, but she'd been enjoying herself too much to want the evening to end. Still, she didn't protest. They split the bill and stood up, walking back toward the elevator, each quietly acknowledging that they'd soon part ways for their separate rooms.

“Thank you for letting me join you for dinner,” Sheila said quietly.

“No, thank you. It was a wonderful evening.”

As they waited for the elevator, Sheila summoned her courage. “So, about that deep tissue massage…” she began, feeling his eyes immediately turn toward her.

“What about it?” he asked, intrigued.

“Do you think you might... I mean, would you be willing to take on an extra client before the weekend is over?”

She felt heat rising in her cheeks, embarrassed yet determined not to let the moment slip away. Just then, the elevator doors opened, interrupting her thoughts.

They stepped out together, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. “I wish I could but "I have a six a.m. flight tomorrow, and I can’t miss it."

With that, he turned and walked toward his room.

Sheila stood frozen, watching him go, confusion swirling in her mind. Had she misread the situation? She had been certain he would invite her to his room—had she made a mistake? Before she could fully process her actions, she found herself knocking softly at his door, startled by her own boldness.

TO BE CONTINUED..... IN PART 2