Chapter Two: The Red Basque

The week that followed went by with me in an almost parallel universe

Trying to concentrate on the usual suspects, work, dinner, television, bed. My wife and I existed in our usual individual orbits, occasionally intersecting for mundane conversations about whose turn it was to take out the bins and was it a recycling week, or whether we needed milk. She didn't notice anything different about me. Why would she? She hadn't really looked at me in years.

But I was different. Every quiet moment, my mind drifted back to Donna's bedroom. The taste of her on my tongue. The sound of her crying out my name. The way her body had felt wrapped around mine, tight and hot and perfect. I'd replay it all in my dreams in vivid Technicolor detail, feeling myself harden at the memory, then force myself to think about spreadsheets or quarterly reports or anything else that would make the evidence of my arousal subside.

The guilt was there, lurking at the edges. I'd catch sight of my wedding ring and feel a twist in my gut. But it was a distant thing, easily pushed aside by the memory of Donna's   eyes looking up at me as she took me in her mouth, or the way she'd looked riding me, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

I told myself it was just once. A moment of madness. It wouldn't happen again.

But I knew I was lying to myself, and I had her number stored in my phone under Dave Honour, plumber. I had sent her a text when I got home after that eventful day, just thanking her for a wonderful afternoon, so she had my number, but had left it there for now

On Wednesday, three days after our encounter, my phone buzzed as I was preparing for a meeting. I glanced at the screen and felt my heart skip.

D Honour - Plumber: It arrived. Red, just like I said. But I'm not sure about the fit. When can you come check?

I stared at the message, my pulse quickening. Around me, colleagues droned on about market penetration and brand awareness and put the finishing touches to their press releases. I should delete it. I should block the number. I should—

My thumbs moved across the screen almost of their own accord.

Saturday afternoon? My wife is visiting her sister.

The three dots appeared immediately, indicating she just a few electrons away and was typing.

Perfect. 2pmOK for you? I'll be waiting.

I sent the thumbs up back, but all I could think about was Saturday. And red lace. And Donna's body beneath my hands.

The rest of the week crawled by with agonizing slowness. Thursday felt like three days. Friday was an eternity. I was distracted at work, snapping at colleagues, unable to concentrate. At home, I was even worse—distant and preoccupied. My wife asked if I was feeling alright, and I blamed it on stress at the office. She accepted the explanation without question, already turning back to her phone.

Saturday morning came and I woke with nervous energy thrumming through my veins. My wife was up early, getting ready for her trip. I made coffee and warmed the croissants, trying to appear normal, trying not to watch the clock.

"I'll probably be back around seven," she said, checking her reflection in the hallway mirror. "My sister wants to chat about that city break she and I were planning.  You don’t mind me going away, do you?"

"Sounds good," I managed. "I'll probably just potter around the garden and maybe go to the garden centre.”

She kissed my cheek automatically, a gesture that meant nothing, and left. I watched her car pull out of the driveway, and the moment she was out of sight, I was moving. Shower. Shave. Clean clothes. I checked myself in the mirror, seeing the anticipation in my own eyes, the flush on my cheeks. I hoped I didn’t look like a man about to do something he shouldn't. Stay Calm I was telling myself, but parts of me weren’t listening. I felt alive.

I got into my car. The drive to Donna's house was simple and straightforward, and I could have done it on autopilot. Last time it had just been roads and turnings, but now it was a highway to the promised land, and. This time, there was no parcel to re-deliver, but there was certainly something to be unwrapped when I got there. This was deliberate. Premeditated. I was driving three miles to make love to another man's wife while my own wife discussed Paris and Rome as possible destinations with her sister. The guilt lay just below the surface, but I pushed it down. I'd deal with that later. Right now, all I could think about was Donna, and red lace.

I pulled into her driveway at 1-30 exactly. My hands were shaking slightly as I turned off the engine. I sat there for a moment, giving myself one last chance to turn back. To start the car, drive home, and pretend this had never happened. But that did not appear on the to do list today. My mind was on a one-way street, and so I had to follow it, opening the car door and walked towards the door.

I paused and took a deep breath, then raised my hand and knocked. Almost immediately I heard quick footsteps heading to the door, and heard the lock being opened. Then the front door opened, and there was Donna. Exactly as I had pictured her.

Donna looked radiant. She wore a light summer skirt that fell to mid-thigh, white and pink vertical stripes, with a flowing flared hem. This was paired with a simple fitted top, up to her neck. Her short hair was styled casually, and she wore minimal makeup. She didn't need it, but I knew she had worked hard to get the right look for me today.  Her eyes sparkled with that same mixture of nervousness and desire I'd seen a week ago, and that was probably matched in my own eyes

"Hi," she said, her voice slightly breathless.

"Hi," I replied, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face.

We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, the weight of what we were about to do hanging between us. Like two nervous teenagers on a first date, not knowing how to make small talk. Then Donna stepped back, opening the door wider.

"Come in, wipe your feet. It’s so nice of you to come over again."

I stepped over the wooden doorstep, and she closed the door behind me. For a heartbeat, we were close enough that I could smell her perfume—the same floral scent from before. We both felt awkward, and dealt with it with a little stilted formality, though I was desperate to kiss those lips again.

“Where are my manners, I should say hello properly.” With that she threw her arms around me and our lips met. The first kiss today, and then the second, and hopefully the first of many. That broke the ice and we hugged hard and relaxed

"I thought we could sit in the garden," she said over her shoulder. "It's such a beautiful day. Seems a shame to waste it inside." Then she turned and led me through the house. I followed her through the kitchen and out the back door into a small but immaculately maintained garden. There was a patio with comfortable outdoor furniture, surrounded by flowering plants and neatly trimmed hedges. It was private, enclosed by a tall fence and with no houses around, the benefits of life in a country area.

We sat on the outdoor sofa, and for a few minutes, we just talked. About nothing, really. The weather. A project she was working on. A difficult client I was dealing with. Surface-level conversation that felt absurd given what we'd done a week ago, and given what we were both thinking about beneath the veneer of respectability of our setting. But beneath the casual words, electricity crackled between us. Every glance felt loaded. Every accidental brush of hands sent sparks through me. Donna crossed and uncrossed her legs, and I found my eyes drawn to the movement, to the smooth skin of her thighs.

"So," she said finally, her voice taking on a playful tone. "Do you want to see it?"

My mouth went dry. "Yes."

Donna stood slowly, deliberately. She held my gaze as her hands moved to the waistband of her skirt. She undid the button, then the zipper, the sound cutting through the silence in the quiet garden. Then she let the skirt fall.

Underneath, she wore the red basque.

It was even more stunning than I'd imagined. Scarlet lace that hugged her curves like a second skin. The bra portion lifted and displayed her breasts beautifully, the lace barely concealing her nipples. The basque stopped at the indent of her waist, emphasizing the flare of her hips. Attached were suspender straps that led down to sheer black stockings that encased her legs. She wore matching lace panties, so delicate they were almost transparent.

"Jesus Christ," I breathed.

Donna turned slowly, letting me see every angle. The back was even more provocative—the basque dipped low, exposing the curve of her spine, and the panties were thong style, showcasing the perfect roundness of her ass and exposing those exquisite buttocks.

"Does it fit properly?" she asked, her voice teasing but with an edge of genuine desire. “Does it pass the QC test?”

I stood up, almost leaping in my eagerness, stepping forward and closing the distance between us. My hands found her waist, feeling the boning of the basque beneath the lace, the warmth of her skin. "It's perfect," I said, my voice faltering. "It’s perfect. A one hundred percent pass by quality control."

Donna's breath hitched as my hands slid up her sides, my thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. "I've been thinking about you all week," she whispered. "About what we did. About what I want you to do to me again."

"You are not the only one. It’s been torture waiting to see you again, thinking about what we experienced together. Show me where we go from here, I need you so badly." I murmured against her ear.

She turned in my arms, pressing her body against mine. I could feel every curve, every inch of lace and skin. She kissed me then, deep and hungry, and I responded with equal fervour. My hands roamed over her back, down to cup both her buttocks, feeling the warmth and the smoothness flex beneath my fingers, pulling her harder against me. I could feel my erection pressing against her stomach, and she responded, grinding against it, feeling how ready I was, making me groan into her mouth.

"Inside," she said, breaking the kiss. "Now. We can be a lot more comfortable in the bedroom"

I took her hand and led her back through the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs. We'd been here before, but this time felt different. There was no hesitation. More immediacy in our progress, as we had already broken down the barriers of hesitation. Last week had been about discovery. This week was about pleasure and progress.

We reached the bedroom, and she stood at the side of the bed, facing me in the doorway. I moved closer to her, standing to face to face her. She stood before me in that incredible red basque, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes dark with desire. Her nipples reaching out to me in passion.  I took a moment just to look at her, wanting to remember this image—this beautiful woman, dressed in lingerie for me, waiting for me to touch her.

Then I dropped to my knees.

Donna gasped as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs. She stepped out of them, and I tossed them aside. Now she stood before me in just the basque and stockings, completely exposed where I wanted her most.

I leaned forward, my breath hot against her inner thigh. Donna's hands moved to my hair, threading through it, steadying herself. I kissed her thigh, then higher, teasing, making her wait. She whimpered, her fingers tightening in my hair.

"Please," she breathed.

She slowly laid down on the bed, her legs dangling, and I gave her what she wanted.

My tongue found her folds, already wet and ready for me. She tasted sweet and musky, intoxicating. I explored her slowly at first, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan. I found her clit and circled it with my tongue, and her hips jerked forward involuntarily, and her knees slowly lifted upwards as her feet moved onto the bed.

"Oh god," Donna moaned, her grip in my hair almost painful now. "Oh god, Andy."

I worked her with my mouth, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on her clit. I slid two fingers inside her, feeling how tight and wet she was, and she cried out. I curved my fingers, finding that spot inside her that made her legs tremble, and I stroked it while my tongue continued its assault on her clit.

Donna was making the most incredible sounds—breathy moans and gasps, mixed with her calling my name, falling from her lips like a prayer. Her hips moved against my face, riding my tongue, chasing her pleasure. I could feel her getting closer, feel the tension building in her body.

"Don't stop," she gasped. "Please don't stop, I'm so close now."

I didn't stop. I increased the pressure, my tongue moving faster, my fingers pumping in and out of her. Donna's thighs began to shake, her breathing becoming ragged. Then she tensed, her entire body going rigid for a heartbeat before the orgasm crashed over her.

She came with a cry, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her hips grinding and gripping my face to her.  I kept going, drawing it out, making it last as long as possible. She rode the waves of pleasure, her hands in my hair, her body trembling. Finally, she relaxed and pushed my head away gently, too sensitive to continue.

I looked up at her. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed with satisfaction, her chest heaving. She looked absolutely wrecked, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"Bed," I commanded, my voice urgent with need. "On your knees."

Donna turned over and moved up the bed on all fours, shaky legs moving forward, and positioning herself on her hands and knees. The sight of her like that—the red basque framing her body, her ass raised, her pussy glistening with arousal and my saliva—made my cock throb painfully in my clothes.

I stood and quickly stripped off my clothes, my eyes never leaving her. When I was naked, my erection jutting out hard and ready, I moved behind her on the bed. I ran my hands over her ass, squeezing, appreciating the softness of her skin against the lace of the basque.

"You look incredible like this," I said, positioning myself at her entrance. "So incredibly sexy."

"Then fuck me," Donna said, looking back at me over her shoulder. "I need you inside me. I need you filling me."

I didn't need to be told twice. I gripped her hips and pushed forward, sliding into her in one smooth thrust. We both groaned at the sensation—she was so tight, so wet, so hot around me. From this angle, I could go deep, could feel every inch of her enveloping me, feel myself stretching her open.

I started to move, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. The position gave me leverage, let me thrust hard and deep. Donna pushed back to meet each stroke, her ass slapping against my hips, the sound obscene and arousing.

"Yes," she moaned, her fingers gripping the sheets. "Yes, just like that. Harder."

I obliged, increasing my pace, pounding into her with abandon. My hands gripped her hips hard enough to leave marks, using them for leverage as I drove into her repeatedly. The basque framed her body perfectly, the red lace a stark contrast against her flushed skin. I could see where we were joined, could watch my cock disappearing into her pussy with each thrust, and the visual was almost too much.

"You feel so good," I groaned. "So fucking tight."

Donna was making continuous sounds now—moans and gasps and breathy whimpers that spurred me on. I could feel the sweat forming on my skin, could hear the wet sounds of our coupling, could smell the musk of sex filling the room. It was primal, animalistic, and it was simply wonderful.

I reached around, finding her clit with my fingers. Donna cried out at the contact, still sensitive from my attentions, her pussy clenching around me. I rubbed tight circles while continuing to thrust, and I could feel her getting close again.

"Come for me," I commanded. "Come on my cock."

"Oh god," Donna gasped, her arms giving out so that her face pressed down into the mattress, changing the angle. "Oh god, I'm so close"

Her second orgasm hit hard. Her pussy spasmed around me, gripping me like a firm hand, and she screamed into the sheets. The sensation of her coming, combined with the visual of her body shaking beneath me, pushed me over the edge.

"Fuck," I groaned, my rhythm becoming erratic. "Donna, I'm going to come"

"Yes," she gasped. "Come inside me. Fill me again."

That was all it took. My orgasm exploded through me with devastating intensity. I thrust deep and held there, my cock pulsing as I emptied myself inside her. Wave after wave of pleasure flowed over me and into her, centred on her pussy. I could feel her contracting muscles milking every drop from me. Finally, the intensity began to ebb. I collapsed forward, catching myself on my hands so I didn't crush her, both of us gasping for air. I was still inside her, softening now, but neither of us moved to separate.

We stayed like that for several moments, bathing in the afterglow of pleasure, our hearts pounding and slowly, very slowly, returning to a normal beat. Almost synchronised

Eventually, I pulled out gently and rolled onto my back beside her. Donna turned onto her side, curling against me, her head on my chest. I wrapped an arm around her, holding her close, feeling the beat of her heart against my ribs.

"That was worth the wait." she started, then trailed off.

"I second that emotion” I said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

We lay there in comfortable silence, our breathing gradually returning to normal. Through the window, I could see the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, casting patterns on the wall. It was peaceful, intimate in a way that went beyond the physical. We chatted for what seemed like ages, the nonsense that lovers talk, finding out even more about each other.

We stayed like that for another hour, talking softly, touching gently, existing in our stolen bubble of time. Eventually, I had to leave—my wife would be home soon, and I took the chance to shower, to wash away the evidence of my infidelity and to return to the normal world.

"When can you come back?" Donna asked quietly.

I should say never. I should end this now, before it got more complicated. Before someone got hurt.

"Next Saturday?" I heard myself say instead.

She smiled and looked up at me coyly. "I'll be waiting."

As I dressed, Donna watched from the bed, still wearing the red basque under a thin black peignoir, open at the front. "Thank you," she said softly. "For making me feel seen. For making me feel wanted. For everything you have done for me"

"Thank you," I replied, meaning it. "For the same."

We walked downstairs together and crossed to the front door. I kissed her one more time at the door, long and deep, then forced myself to pull away. As I drove home, the guilt tried to surface again. But it was still distant, still easily pushed aside by the memory of Donna's body beneath mine, the sound of her crying out my name, the feeling of being truly alive for the first time in years.

Three miles. That's all that separated my two lives. Three miles and a world of difference. I knew I should stop. I knew this couldn't end well. But as I pulled into my driveway and saw my wife's car already there, all I could think about was next Saturday.

And whatever excuse I'd need to make to see Donna again.