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This content is for readers who are 18 years and older.

“Why, my love?  Why are you not faithful to me?”

This Chapter shows how unbridled passion can rip your heart out and make you think the unimaginable.  Enjoy the Chapter 3.  

Chapter 3 

MATT LAY ON THE bathroom floor going back and forth over whether he should kill Ellen or not.  If he was going to kill her, how should he do it?  He wished he could kill her now.  He would go over to wherever she was prostituting herself and choke her to death.  He would also kill that sleazy man with her.  He felt rage that he had never felt before.  Deceit and betrayal did not begin to describe what he felt.  How could she do this to him?  He was putting his entire life on the line for her.  He was about to end his marriage for her.

He should have never gone into that strip club that night.  He had gone to a strip club a few times when he was younger.  But that had been decades ago.  He was in his twenties then.  He was fifty-five now.  It had not felt that long ago.  But it was.  No wonder he was so uncomfortable sitting in that club.

His friends and coworkers had talked him into it.  They told him they just wanted to let off some steam.  The strip club was where they let off their steam.  He would find out that “letting off steam” was not a figure of speech.  He should have known better.  What were fifty and sixty year old men doing hanging out in strip clubs?  What good could come of that?

He should have known what kind of strip club it was, too.  He saw things going on that were clearly wrong.  Within minutes of being there he knew he should leave.  The men were touching the dancers.  The dancers were not fighting them off either.  He had always been told that customers were not allowed to touch the dancers.  He saw dancers disappearing with different customers.  Fifteen minutes later the dancer was back on stage dancing or walking the floor.  The customer came back like he swallowed a canary.

When he left that club with his coworkers he swore he would never go back.

Two weeks later Earl, his friend and coworker, talked him into going back to the same strip club.  Earl’s buddies, who were to go with him, could not make it.  Matt thought, why not?  At the club Earl showed his appreciation by buying Matt a lap dance.  Matt got to choose the dancer.

This dark-haired, five feet eight inch, dancer had just taken the stage.  Matt was mesmerized by her.  She was not in her twenties like some of the dancers.  She had a tough beauty to her.  Her body was unbelievable.  Her breasts were just the right size.  Her butt was shapely.  Her stomach was almost flat.  Her face was naturally pleasing to look at.  Not so much makeup.  She looked like a real woman.  Matt fell in love.  He wanted his lap dance from her.

Earl called the dancer over to their table.  He gave her a one hundred dollar bill.  The only words exchanged were when the dancer reached for Earl’s hand.  Earl pointed to Matt and said that he was the one she wanted.  The dancer took Matt by the hand and led him into a room and locked the door.  She introduced herself as Ellen.  Matt went to say hello.  She put a finger to his lips for him to be quiet.

She had him sit down in a comfortable chair while she danced for him.  After a few minutes of rubbing her body against his she eased down to the floor.  Her hand slid over his crotch.  He wanted to resist her.  He was only supposed to get a lap dance.  But he was too far gone.  His zipper came down and that was it.

Oral sex was their first sexual experience.

He was embarrassed at how fast everything happened.  It was over before he knew it.  But she made him feel better about himself.  She told him he must have been starved for something different.  That was why he was so overcome with excitement.  He told her maybe he was and did not know it.

She went to unlock the back door to the room.  She told him he could go to the bathroom that way without having to walk back through the main room.  He thanked her and got up to leave.  But then he got up enough nerve to ask her if he could get her number before they left the room.  He knew it was a long shot.  Girls like her did not date men like him.  Fifties, worked for the same company for decades, not in great shape, sat behind a desk, not exciting, and not filthy rich.

He was shocked when she gave it to him.

He called her the next day.  It was the start of their relationship.

The first few weeks that they got together he paid her for her services.  By the third week it had become romantic.  That is when she stopped charging him.  But he paid her anyway.  Him paying her, even though she did not want him to, meant one less man that she would sleep with that was not him.

Things were going so well between them.  He thought they were.  Now his dream girl had him living in hell.  He crawled over and got his phone from the corner of the bathroom.

“Ellen!” he yelled into the phone.

“Knock.  Knock.  Knock.”  Three light knocks came from outside the bathroom door.  “Are you okay, Sweetie?” Brenda asked.  “Was it the enchiladas?  Is your stomach upset?  Did I put too many spices in them?  Can I get you something?”

Matt bit into the towel and tried to catch his breath.  “I’m okay,” he said, voice cracking.  “I just need to clean up.  I’ll join you in bed in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” she asked with deep concern in her voice.

“I’m sure,” he said.  “Thank you for asking.  I love you.”  He pressed the towel against his mouth and cried.

“Okay,” she said.  “I was worried about you.  I’ll see you in bed.”

He exhaled and swallowed.  “Thanks,” he said and pursed his lips and wiped tears from his eyes.  He then stared at the phone and ended the call.

 

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Thanks.