Allure of Temptation

AUDREY The magic of Christmas makes me think this season could save my marriage, that it could reignite the sparks and happiness we once shared. There was a lot of happiness in the air, lots of festivals and celebrations. Surely, Dante would love to tap into this so we could fix whatever went wrong in our marriage these last couple of years. I could feel hope thrumming in my veins. We'd talk about everything tonight. We'd resolve everything. I'd apologize for whatever I did to push him away and harden him into a stranger instead of my husband. Then, I'd tell him about the planned trip to Prague after Christmas. Maybe we'd finally conceive our long-awaited baby on this trip. I giggled. Like, I really giggled in excitement like a 13-year-old girl thinking about her first crush as I input our door’s code and stepped into our apartment. The first thing that registered was the discarded feminine bag that wasn't mine on the floor. Then there were two half-empty glasses of wine and a bottle of wine on the kitchen cabinet. And then, the low almost muffled moans and whimpers of pleasure coming from the direction of our matrimonial bedroom. I stopped, something inside me hardening into steel. I already knew what to expect, but still, when I opened the door and saw a brunette naked and spread out on the bed I imported from Turkey, palm wrapped around her boobs and body writhing uncontrollably from the pleasure my husband of 10 years was giving her. He was in between her legs, face buried between her thighs as his slurping sounds filled the room while she moaned endlessly. Something recoiled inside me. It twisted into bitterness and anger. He has never done that to me. Not in our 10 years of marriage and definitely not in our two years of courtship. But here he was, greedily eating a w***e out. I blinked back tears. I didn't make a sound. I just retreated, went back to the kitchen, where I drowned the leftovers of the opened wine straight from the bottle. I've always suspected that there were other ladies, especially after our s*x life became completely non-existent, but I never wanted to admit that to myself. Not even when he blatantly stocks up on condoms that he'd exhaust even though we weren't having s*x, not when I catch lipstick stains on his shirt, not when he constantly sleeps outside while I suffocate alone in our huge, cold matrimonial bed. And now he has one of those girls in our room. f*****g her now with the loud slapping sounds and her exaggerated screams and moans. I didn't bother blocking them out. I waited till they were done. She even used my bathroom to clean up. The girl was the first person to see me. She stopped, startled like a deer caught in a headlight, before she picked up her bag and exited the house in fright. Dante didn't look the least bit surprised to see me. He only walked casually beside me with a towel wrapped around his groin and body still slick with sweat from his intense activity, to drink water from the tap. “You f****d your w***e on our matrimonial bed?” “Would you rather I waste your money on hotel rooms?” His tone was audacious, and so was his expression. He looked at me like this was the most casual conversation in the world. “People are starting to talk, Audrey. If I parade my partners in public and take them to hotels, wouldn't that affect your company?” I chuckled, exasperated beyond words, and suddenly too tired for this conversation. Other families out there were celebrating Christmas and enjoying the festive period, but we were here, talking about my husband's mistresses. “How about not having mistresses at all, Dante?” “So how am I supposed to c*m them? Who am I supposed to f**k?” “You have a wife!” I pointed out, in case he has suddenly forgotten, “how about you respect our marriage and not…” I trailed off, eyes burning from the force of my unshed tears, “What happened to us? Was it something I did wrong? Tell me, and if it's about s*x, then teach me how to please you.” He had been observing me with a chill calmness all along, but when I said the last part, he chuckled. “Teach you, Audrey? Come on,” he looked at my body like it was a piece of filth, “you're way past your prime… way past when your body was desirable. I mean, you're pushing 40. You shouldn't be crying over s*x or the lack of it at this age. You never made efforts to keep your body in shape, so you shouldn't expect me not to look outside.” I swallowed, tightly, as he rambled on without any remorse about what his words were doing to me. “I'm 37, and we haven't had s*x in 7 years, Dante! 7 good years. I've asked. I've begged. I've pleaded. I've signed us up for counseling sessions that you missed. I've done everything to make this marriage work. I've invested millions of dollars into your business ideas. I've done everything to make this marriage work, but you keep thrashing my efforts, and at this point, I'm done. I'm going to file for a divorce.” He only shrugged casually, “Go ahead. You're the one from the renowned family. I have nothing to lose from the divorce. No reputation for the media drag through the mud, and remember the contract we signed before our wedding, the one you came up with because you wanted to prove to your family how much you trust me? The contract allows me to walk away with 50% of your asset, Audrey. So go ahead. File for the divorce, and let's see who's at the losing end.” He was right. My stepmother and father would eat me alive for getting a divorce. They had already opposed my marriage to Dante, a nobody, but I went ahead with it mindlessly because I loved him. And because I thought he loved me too. But look at us now. I no longer recognize the stranger Dante had become. And Dante, who used to worship my body, stopped touching me three years into our marriage. The stupid contract I stupidly signed as a naive 27-year-old girl was also there. I was trapped. “So this is it?” I asked humorlessly, “You want us to have an open marriage while keeping a facade that our relationship is perfect.” He chuckled again, and this time the sound echoed and vibrated through the entire living area while I stood there, feeling awkward and stupid. “An open marriage only works if you can get a man to sleep with you, Audrey,” he said when his laughter died down, “But you're well past that era of the hot Audrey Milburn everybody wanted to date back then. Just so what you do best, Audrey. Make money, grow your company, and get some s*x toys or some gigolos you'd pay to f**k you in the dark.” My hand moved and slapped him across the face before I could even register what was going on. I sobered up immediately while he casually turned his face back to me. “You're lucky I don't hit women,” was all he said before he walked away and left me with a shaking body. I couldn't believe this was my life now. I couldn't believe how low I had sunk. The Audrey Milburn, self-made multi-millionaire, founder of the Audrey Skin, and daughter of the Milburn Empire. I was among one of the most successful women in the states. But I couldn't keep a man. I couldn't even keep my body. I looked down at my body and tried hard not to recoil in self-hatred. Dante was right. I used to be a size 8, but now, I'm not even a size 12. He was the one who told me that I needed to fill up more and didn't have to look like the models who marketed my products. I obeyed him. Throwing myself into work while trying to build Audrey Skin into one of the biggest skincare brands also ruined my eating patterns. But I thought Dante would love me through it all. I was wrong. Would he love me back if I lost some weight? I killed that thought as soon as it formed. I wasn't some shallow lady. Dante doesn't deserve me, at least not anymore, but I deserve myself. I deserved to feel every bit the hot girl I used to be. That was the recurring thought in my head the next day. I was home all day because my company had already closed for the year, and Dante had gone out since morning without telling me where he was going. Boredom was gnawing at me, twisting my insides and making me restless. The fact that Dante was probably out there, f*****g some random girl, made me uncomfortable. It made me impulsively decide to go out too. It was a stupid, impulsive decision. I realized that as soon as I took my seat in the bar of a club. I didn't know what devil propelled me to come here, dressed in a short wine gown that clung to my skin like a second skin and stopped above my knees with my hair falling in waves over my shoulders, and in a five-inch pair of shoes. I wasn't used to this dressing. My styles were normal office wear and formal dinner attire because those were the two places I go to. This gown was a gift from an office girl earlier this year, who was my Valentine partner. According to her, she wanted me to wear it on a romantic date with Dante without knowing that Dante and I barely even communicated again. This was my first time wearing it, and it was a bit too tight. It was uncomfortable, with the way it exposed my cleavage and exaggerated my ass. But what was even more uncomfortable was the club. The music. The loudness. The smell of alcohol and the bodies swaying on the dance floor. Everybody looked young, alive, and bright. This was no place for a woman who was pushing 40 and whose husband hadn't touched her in seven years. And I hated to admit that what actually propelled me to come to this club was because I wanted to prove Dante wrong. I wanted to prove that a man could look at me, too, but so far no man has. They walked around, beckoning to girls all around me, but no one looked at them twice. It filled me with a sense of defeat and a deeper shame. What was I doing here? I wasn't some cheap f**k looking for a man to take her home. I was more than that. I was Audrey Milburn. What would my business partners or staff say if they saw me here? I picked up my purse and exited the club immediately, shielding my face in case there was a familiar face within the dim-lit club. I exhaled in relief when I stepped outside the main entrance, only to bump into a group of friends. “Watch where you're going, old woman,” one of them sneered, and the rest of them laughed before they entered the club. I swallowed the scorn, bent to pick up my purse that had dropped to the floor, only to see it was no longer there, and someone was pointing it at me. “I'm sorry about that. Kids these days lack manners.” I nodded, my head still slightly bent as I collected the purse, but he didn't let go. He only bent slightly to get a proper look at my face. “Audrey.” Kill me now. I looked up at the man, my killer professional smile in place. He was young, probably in his mid twenties, and he looked a bit familiar, but I wasn't going to admit that. “I'm sorry, but you are?” “Matteo Williams.” his eyes were twinkling in what looked like amazement, while my insides twisted painfully, “Meredith’s son.” No way! He was my older friend’s son, and he just saw me exiting a club, dressed like someone looking for a quick lay.