Beth's Dilemma

  BETH'S DILEMMA

  By

  Laran Mithras

  Cover Photo by www.Shutterstock.com

  Beth's Dilemma is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2016 - All Rights Reserved

  Sharing feels so wrong, so forbidden. The lust and passion so fulfilling yet so avoided. And in a hundred years, no one is going to care who shared who.

  ~ Anonymous

  CHAPTER 1

  The harrowing howl of Beth's tires on the pavement was followed by a drift of smoke. Oh fuck…

  A teenage boy in his baggy jacket flipped her off, but seemed otherwise unbothered.

  She laid her head on the steering wheel and tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. I need to get a grip. She had almost run the stop sign and had nearly hit the boy in the crosswalk.

  As electrifying as her near disaster had been, worse was the swirl of emotions twisting and turning in her head and soul. Her husband had revealed something that had shocked her to her core – something that upset the life she had carefully crafted and cared for.

  A honk behind her made her lift her head. The crosswalk was clear and the driver behind her wanted to move.

  She took a deep breath and drove through the intersection. She took it slower, driving to her refuge, though the slower speed made her limbs ache with anxiety. I need to be there, now! Her foot twitched, wanting to press deeper on the pedal, but she resisted. Her refuge was her friend of decades. She had met Lynne when the young woman had worked in a bookstore - that was twenty years ago this March.

  Beth had been buying the first in the Wheel of Time series, back when she still read real books. Seemed like life had devolved to magazines and internet since then. Lynne had been enthusiastic over her purchase and recommended the robust thickness of the book as well worth the read.

  Return visits to The Book Barn fostered a growing friendship between the two. Lynne eventually moved on, but they remained close friends.

  Beth parked a couple stores down from the 1930s house on a commercial street zoned for business. Painted a deep brick red with crème highlights, the converted home was now the Coffee Kitchen. It had become Beth's refuge from what she didn't understand. Lynne owned it.

  On wobbly legs that didn't want to move for all of her frantic driving and desperation to get there, she entered the cozy cottage to the warm and comforting smells of soup and biscuits, topped over aromatically by the caress of coffee.

  Blonde and bubbly Candi flashed white teeth from behind the soup counter. "Hi, Beth."

  Nothing really needed to be said. Beth would come, go in the back, and hobnob with Candi's boss. The young girl knew her and trusted her as if she was some partner in the venture. Beth tried to smile and waved.

  Customers paid her no attention. In truth, Beth never noticed. She went into the back and down the redecorated old hall. The master bedroom had been turned into a comfortable office with wallpaper and built-in oak cabinets that matched the crème accents nicely.

  Lynne looked up from a crossword puzzle. "Hi, girl."

  It was her way, though Beth was older by a year. At forty, Beth wondered if getting older was going to keep getting quicker. The years have flown by… "Hi."

  Her friend's hair had changed over the years from curly to just wavy. Streaks of gray ran through her hair in little streams and Beth thought it made her younger friend look older. She was far too self-conscious to try letting her hair go like her friend – she kept it dyed close to her natural color. Or what it used to be.

  Hair back, Lynne had seemed to mature in the face the same way Beth had. At a quick glance, some might have thought them sisters, but the similarity was only in the long, dark hair. Lynne pouted. "Uh oh, something's wrong?" She said it half playful and half serious.

  Beth sank into the chair facing the desk as if she was a ship slowly sinking into the black depths of the ocean. She blew out a long breath. "I don't know where to begin."

  Her friend tilted her head. "You never know where to begin; just say it."

  Safe in her refuge, she was suddenly uncertain. Can I say it? Should I have come? Why is life all upside down, now?

  Lynne straightened and put her pencil down. "Coffee?"

  Relieved at the reprieve from her thoughts, she said, "Yes, please. That organic cocoa-cinnamon—"

  Her friend was already nodding. "I know."

  "No sugar—"

  With a fist on a cocked hip and a look that carried all the disapproval of a stern parent, Lynne said, "I know."

  Beth's shoulders collapsed down and forward as she clasped her hands in her lap. Why on a Saturday? Saturday, of all days; the day we were married.

  The murmur of customers out front attacked her anxiety, attempting to relieve the pressure built up inside. Can I find answers here? Don't I always? Lynne will know what to do.

  Her friend returned with two thick mugs trailing steam and seduction.

  Coffee in front of her cooling, Beth sat staring at it.

  Her friend sat in the chair beside her instead of her owner's chair. "What's happened? You chip a nail?"

  Beth pursed her lips and brought up her fingers. Waggling them for her friend to see, she said, "No."

  Lynne sat back and sipped her own coffee, looking at Beth over the rim. She waited.

  What do I say? This is… "It's sort of personal."

  Lynne's eyes shifted to the door. "You want me to shut the door or not tell me at all?"

  She took a breath and held it, still trying to make up her mind on what to say. Too many thoughts ran through her mind at once, all screaming to be heard, giving an avalanche of advice that did nothing except bury her in indecision.

  Her friend got up and quietly shut the door. She sat back down.

  Beth said, "It's Bill…"

  Lynne's eyes sharpened. "Is he sick?"

  "No…"

  Her friend's voice dropped in a panic. "Having an affair?"

  Beth shook her head firmly. My Bill? Never. "No, nothing like that. Sort of…"

  Lynne made a frustrated face, but waited.

  "I was reading an article in Cosmo—"

  The derision was heavy. "Oh, brother."

  "It's not like that. The article was about secrets men keep that lead to break-ups."

  Lynne's head shifted to the side with weariness. "You've been together for fifteen years now—"

  "Sixteen."

  "Whatever. You would've broken up by now. Why were you reading some trashy article, anyway?"

  Beth sighed in exasperation. "We have a good relationship—"

  Lynne rolled her eyes slowly. "Right, so why tamper with it?"

  "I was curious after reading the article."

  Her cup poised in two hands and a leg delicately crossed over the other, her friend said, "All right then, he should've been able to handle it. What happened? Did he say he was gay?"

  Beth drank her coffee and almost choked. "No!"

  Lynne waited, sipping, watching Beth.

  "He said that he did have a secret and that I couldn't handle it."

  Her friend sighed. "Obviously you couldn't or you wouldn't be here."

  Should I tell her? Will she think he's weird? Me for being married to him? Why all this now after so long? Everything was going so well. "He said…he wants…"

  The silence from her friend encouraged her to fill the void.

  Beth placed her mug down with deliberation. "He said he wants to see me with another man."

  Lynne froze and blinked once.

  The silence stretched.

  Beth grabbed her mug again, clinging to it as if trying to anchor herself in reality.

  Her fr
iend straightened abruptly, her spine stiffening and her eyes shifting to the right, and then to the left. "He what?"

  Beth let out some pressure with a strangled laugh. "I know. Totally insane. But he thinks it would be great. I don't know why all this is blowing up now—"

  "That's quite an admission—"

  "I know, right?"

  Her friend set down her mug and moved her chair closer and behind. Her hands came down on Beth's shoulders and began massaging them. "You're all tense."

  "I can't help but think this is the end of everything. What am I going to do?" She shifted her shoulders, feeling a pressure so intense she thought her friend's fingers would cause it all to burst.

  "You think your marriage is coming to an end?"

  "Yes, I mean, why tell me this unless he's trying to shake me off?" She felt the tears welling. "I'm forty now. Isn't that when all the men get the itch for an eighteen year old?"

  "He's forty-five; wouldn't he have already had it?"

  Beth shook her head. "I mean me. I'm getting old. Too old?"

  Her friend blew out a breath. "I just don't see Bill being that way with you."

  "I didn't see it, either."

  "Well, it doesn't have to mean the end…"

  "How can you say that? How am I supposed to live knowing he wants to break up—"

  "Did he say he wanted to end the marriage?"

  "No, but how could it not end that way? He probably told me because he has his eye on some other woman—"

  Her friend's abrupt and scornful laughter stopped her. "Bill? Are you serious? He doesn't even look at me."

  "Well, he shouldn't."

  "But men do – it was why at first I thought he might've revealed he was gay."

  Beth coughed. "You want my husband checking you out?"

  "I don't mean it that way. I just meant all men look; they're very visual. It's why we wear lipstick, for fuck's sake."

  Is that why I dye my hair? For him? Or is it for me because I don't like getting and looking older?

  Lynne massaged deeper into Beth's taut shoulders. "Relax, girl. Just because he harbors some secret fantasy doesn't mean everything's coming to an end."

  She sighed. "What should I do?" It was the one question that overrode all others. Maybe it was her friend's working fingers that separated what mattered from all the rest. She felt some sense of relief as a bit of the tension melted away.

  The fingers stopped moving as her friend gave it some consideration. "I bet you stormed out of the place after hearing it?"

  She knows me too well. "Well, yes, what else could I have done? I was frantic."

  Her friend leaned her head close, her words near to Beth's ear. "Go back and talk to him."

  "How can I?"

  "You've been talking for sixteen years, girl. Don't give up now."

  Beth sighed. Perhaps she's right.

  CHAPTER 2

  Beth entered the small house they had paid off three years before. Is this all going bye-bye?

  Bill was sitting in the living room on their paisley-print sofa they had chosen together. He stood, a worried look on his face. "Where've you been?"

  "Lynne's."

  A look of horror came over his face. "You told her?"

  Fuck, that probably wasn't a good idea, was it? "Well…"

  He slapped his hand to his face and drew it down.

  "I didn't tell her everything…" But I had. Maybe it's best if he doesn't know. I needed answers!

  He sighed. "I told you that you couldn't handle it."

  I'm not a weak woman. I'm secure and confident. Or I was… She crossed her arms. "It was such a shock…"

  He came to her and took her in his arms. "Come, sit down."

  She tensed, though. "I—"

  "Sit."

  She sighed. "I feel like standing."

  "All right."

  "Lynne said I should talk to you."

  "Smart woman."

  "Do you check her out?" The suddenness of her own question was as shocking to her as it was to him – by the look on his face.

  Bill frowned. "I've seen her, sure, but I don't check her out, no."

  It sounded true, coming from him, but she still harbored doubts about his secret. Is he wanting to see me with another man because he has his eye on another woman? I can't lose him. "She thought you didn't, either."

  He sat down, dropping onto the sofa as if collapsing. "I don't have eyes for any woman but you."

  That sounded true, too.

  "Then why…" Then why all this? If I'm the focus, why does another man enter the picture? Can't you be happy with just me?

  He was watching her. "Then why do I want to see you…?"

  She nodded.

  Bill sighed in a way that told her he was trying to find the right way to present his ideas. "Because you're beautiful, and—"

  "Why does that have to include someone else?" Where is the sense in this?

  "Look, when we're out and about, I see men checking you out—"

  Beth coughed. "No one checks me out. I'm too old."

  But he was shaking his head. "I see it."

  A warmth wended through her. Men look at me? No way. I still got it? For a split second, she wanted to laugh, but the worries clogged her thoughteries and she frowned instead. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  He put a patient look on his face. He was still a handsome man, though his hair had receded dramatically from when they had married. Years of wearing a hard-hat for the public works division had taken its toll on his hair. He kept the rest short and what was left was well-speckled with gray. But his eyes were keen and his work kept him skinny, if not athletic. A tall man, he often intimidated people by his gaze rather than muscle. "When they look at you, it makes me proud."

  That made her feel good, but the disconnect with her sensibility remained. "So what's wrong with us that you think—"

  "There's nothing wrong with us."

  She pursed her lips. It was true; they were quite happy together. They fit each other in complimentary ways that had become a very good kind of routine over the years. Sex with him was good and fulfilling. So why?

  He said, "You asked." He held up his hands as if showing her all he had.

  She had. The article had caused in her a concern that she might be overlooking something critical in their marriage. She had thought they had good communication. She had thought he would reveal nothing she didn't already know – but she had felt compelled to ask.

  The idea that her husband wanted to see her with another man was insane. She thought of no other man. She pined for no one. No secret admirers sent her love letters or emails. She got no suggestive messages on Facebook. No phone calls, texts, or secret rendezvous. She didn't want any of that. Not that she hadn't notice a flirt or two here and there while out on her own. But men often said nice things or smiled. It didn't mean they wanted to get in her pants, did it? Of course not.

  Bill said, "What are you thinking?"

  She dropped her shoulders in defeat, wishing Lynne was still kneading them. "That I can't accept this." She shook her head and held up a hand between them.

  ~ ~ ~

  His sly look that night signaled his interest.

  Beth wondered if it was a good idea, but warmed to his cuddling and nuzzling. He wants me, isn't that enough?

  His stubble against her jaw scraped chills down her spine. His familiar soapy scent filled her with comfort and contentment.

  Still, her thoughts intruded. Why did he have a fantasy like that? Why not something like masturbating? Or watching dirty movies? I might be able to handle those kinds of kink. But orgies? Ugh.

  He kissed down her neck to her chest, touching his lips to the t-shirt covering her breasts. His hand slid down and rubbed over her panties.

  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations.

  He leaned back a little. "So what's your fantasy?"

  Like, what? "I don't have any."

  "No dildo fantasies? Anal?
"

  She jerked. "Oh god, no." She shook her head vigorously. "I mean, the anal part."

  He chuckled. "So you have a dildo fantasy?"

  She laughed in return. "Um, no. I have your dick, why would I need a dildo?"

  "Because they're fun?"

  "But they're not real."

  "I ordered something for you I'd like to try." His voice was soothing.

  However, she tensed. "Oh no, what did you do?" She didn't want to do freaky things.

  "Calm down, Beth." He reached into the nightstand and pulled out something electronic. "It's just a bullet."

  "A bullet?"

  "A vibrator. See? Nothing horrible."

  She had seen the likes before but hadn't paid attention. Well, that doesn't look so bad. "All right."

  His smile shined with delight.

  Her insides lit up slowly with heat when he touched the buzzing bullet to her panties. She felt the sexual tension begin turning and building. She looked down in amazement. Wow, I didn't know that felt so good. She had heard about vibrators, but thought they were used by defective women or those who couldn't get a man.

  Bill's tongue flicking into her ear sent chills all along her back and arms, and delivered a jolt of lust to her pussy. She gasped and felt the initial heave within her that promised more to come and an eventual orgasm. This came a lot faster than normal; she was still in her panties.

  She rectified that immediately. Slipping off her panties, she settled back down. The neck and shoulder rub earlier from Lynne had been nice, but not enough. This bullet offered a possible release that would sweep away her tension.

  Her husband rubbed it lightly over her clit and around it.

  She melted, even as the tightness in her pussy built. This isn't so bad. Why didn't he order one sooner? Tingles and vibrations caused her to jerk in satisfying spasms. It seemed so different than his normal manual stimulation. His finger was heavier, though she was used to it. This was lighter and more electric. She wondered if it was going to hurt when she came. Is it going to be too much? Her breathing became shallow.

  He ran the bullet around, then pressed it against her clit, letting off after a second to repeat it all again.