Karma Police

I never expected that two bottles of Parrot Bay would lead to what it had.

“Nobody will ever know,” Tré whispered in my ear, as he struggled to un-do my belt.

I had been so alone the past month, everyone distancing themselves from me. So I had been having a few mood swings, but I didn’t see that as a reason for everyone to ignore my existence. But Tré understood, so he said.

And he seemed to, in that moment. He seemed to understand exactly what I needed.

He had stopped by that evening, intentions of dropping off a disk of drum tracks he had laid out. I was home by myself, and particularly lonely that evening, so I invited him in for a drink, and suggested we listen to what he had recorded.

“I really like this, Tré.” I commented, as I poured our third, fourth, or sixth drink; I couldn’t remember which, I could only see that hid hand had made its way to my knee, and I hadn’t done anything to suggest he move it.

I didn’t want him to move it.

I could always blame it on the alcohol, but in all honesty, the attraction we had for each other was undeniable. Secret glances, blatant flirtations, playful touching. Sure, everyone joked that we were having an affair, but in truth, neither of us had the balls to make a move.

Blame it on the alcohol, I thought to myself. Just. Do. It.

“Your hand is dangerously close to where it shouldn’t be, Mr. Cool.” I slurred more than was necessary. I wasn’t that drunk, but he didn’t need to know that. Because, it was obvious, that he was.

“Sorry, I get touchy when I’ve been drankin’, you know that.” He winked, and started to move his hand. I cupped mine over his, not allowing him to remove it.

He looked at me with curious eyes, sizing me up, making sure I wasn’t playing a game. It took him hardly a moment to realize I was not.

Without a word, his mouth was over mine, kissing me the way I had wanted him to forever. I kissed back with fervor, and used the force of all of my guilt, frustration, worry, anger, hurt and fear to back it, causing for my lips to act with more intensity than they ever had before.

His hands moved quickly across every surface of my body, not lingering in any spot long enough for me to predict his next move. From my back, to my chest, my sides, and finally to my messy mane of black hair, his fingers entwined around large amounts, pulling, and alternating from a soft-tug to a ravenous twist.

I was loving every second of it, and he was too.

“Nobody can know,” I breathed when we broke apart for a second to catch our breaths.

He pulled away, and looked at me. Removing his hand from my hair, he slowly trailed it down my short torso, lingering every so often, and applying pressure with the tips of his fingers, then continued to go down, until it was resting at the top of my belt, and he flicked the buckle.

“Nobody will ever know,” Tré whispered in my ear, as he struggled to un-do my belt.

The kiss continued, and became more heated.

I grabbed his hand in a spare moment, and led him into the master bedroom, not bothering to flip on the light. He pushed me back on to the bed, and slid my jeans off of me, before crawling up me, and pulling the Danzig tee-shirt I was wearing over my head.

I lay naked under his body, ignoring the rush of thoughts flowing through my head, and watched as he removed his own green shirt. I leaned up only to unfasten his belt as he had mine, and to unzip his pants. I allowed him to remove them himself, allowed him to have time to rethink this situation, if he needed to.

He had no need to; he knew that he had wanted this just as long as I had, if not longer.

His naked body was on top of mine in seconds, applying the most desirable amount of pressure to me. He kissed down my neck, and over my chest, down my hip and down my inner thigh.
I sat up, and motioned for him to stand. I wanted to taste him; I had wanted to for quite some time.

He moaned my named as I progressed, as I became more hectic in my motions, until he knew he was about to climax, and pulled away from me.

“Bend over the bed,” His voice was low, but his words were strong, and I did as instructed.

I winced as he entered; something that hadn’t been done in quite a long time, something I had nearly forgotten could feel so good, even though it hurt.

His motions were slow at first; he could tell it had been a while. But he picked up his pace in moments, and was moving with such a liquid motion I almost forgot who I was, where I was, and who I was betraying.

In a moment of stupidity, I opened my eyes and saw our wedding photo on the night stand. Quickly, I closed them, and moaned the name of my new-found lover, as if it would somehow wash away the agony that had only seconds ago rushed through my naked body.

He collapsed on top of me when we were both finished.
“Tré, nobody can ever know.” I whispered into his ear as he pulled me into his arms.

“I know.” He replied, and I couldn’t place what exactly he meant.
We dressed, and said goodbye. I decided not to question what any of it had meant, and I would assume it was a one-time occurrence, unless Tré would suggest otherwise.

Months would go by, and the affair would continue. I would be home alone, or I would visit him at his house. Nobody would suspect a thing.

We would act no differently than we normally did when we were in the company of family or friends. There was no reason for anyone to assume an affair, and if anyone did, they were not vocal about it.

My mood swings had ceased, as well. My family and friends became less distant, and welcomed me back into their arms, although they acted as if their arms had never pushed me away. I accepted the warmth, but continued my lie.
My spouse even accepted me back, and apologized for rejecting me in my obvious time of need. They felt horrible for pushing me away, when what I needed was to be pulled in closer.

Little did they know, I had been pulled in. Just not by whom it should have been doing the pulling.

It wasn’t until I returned home early one evening that I walked into my bedroom to see the person I had married bent over my bed in the same position, in the same place, with the same man that I was slapped in the face.

“Oh my God, Adie!” Billie cried as he saw me standing in our bedroom doorway, purse dropped on the floor, and heart in my throat.

I got what I had deserved. The karma police had paid me a visit.