My wife knew more people than I at this extravagant party

It was all about her people and those with whom she
worked. It would have been forgettable but for the
fierce storm raging outside, letting loose cracks of
thunder which made women jump and squeal, and
especially but for the silver-plated bonus of the
electric Diana, who may have been one of my wife’s
people but who was also at the peak of an illicit,
dangerous and thrilling affair with me.

I was at the edge of the big room, leaning my lanky
frame indolently against the wall and watching her
avidly, and she knew that’s what I was doing as she
chatted with a group of people including my wife,
because her eyes kept flashing in my direction. I was
watching Diana, slim and sexy in her little black
dress, when an impossibly bright flash of lightning
dragged my eyes to the big windows. Bang. All the
lights went out.

Ladies who did not like blackouts, and that means most
of them, screamed and moaned. My brain, however, was
faster than a lightning bolt and I moved quickly and
directly towards the point where Diana had been
standing. I groped for and found her hand in the chaos
and pulled her clear of the throng and into the
corridor. I pressed her against the wall and kissed her
urgently but briefly.
“Quick,” I whispered. “We may not have much time.”

Holding her by the wrist and feeling my way via the
wall, I dragged her down the corridor. She was
obviously blind as a bat because she hung back like an
anchor. I opened the first closed door I came across,
tugged her inside and shut it. I took her by the
shoulders and moved carefully until I felt a bed
against the back of my legs. I fell back, pulling her
on top of me. Again our lips met and I again I pulled
away.

“Too much to do,” I whispered. “Too little time.”

I rolled her over on the bed, sat astride her legs and
pushed her dress up her thighs. She wriggled and tried
to sit up but I pushed her down. “Hush, my love,” I
said softly. “Do nothing, say nothing.”

I slid her panties down and lowered my head between her
legs, searching for her. I burrowed into her with my
mouth and my tongue, my nose thrusting through her lush
and wiry pubic hair. Wait. Hang on. Whoa. Lush and
wiry? I stopped and lifted my head into the black
night.

“Oh God,” said a deep and husky female voice I did not
recognise. “Don’t stop now.”

Who the fuck was this? “Who the fuck are you?” I asked
before I could stop myself.
“And who the hell are you?” she responded.

“Holy shit. I thought you were…somebody else.”

“It did occur to me.”

“What do we do now?”

She sat up, found my head and pressed it down.
“Continue,” she said.

Right. It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do. How
could I not have known this was not Diana? This woman
was completely different. Diana was small and bony.
This one was bigger and softer all over. She smelled
different. She even tasted different. Objectively,
somewhat better. Her hand at my head bunched and
clutched at my hair. She was quicker than Diana too.
She tugged painfully at my hair and, like the left jab
of a lightweight boxer, bumped my nose hard three times
in rapid succession with her pubic bone. She groaned
and flopped back on the bed. “It’s been a long time
since that happened,” she whispered.

“Whoever you are, you know what you’re doing.”

“My pleasure. What’s your name?”

“No,” she said quickly. “Better if we don’t know.”

“What if the lights come back on?”

“If I see your face I’ll have to slap it for taking
liberties. Besides, I don’t want to know how ugly you
are.” I laughed softly. “I like your style.”

“And I like yours, mister. Do me quick while it’s still
dark.”

She was slippery wet, warm and welcoming and I plunged
into her with my trousers around my shins. She wasn’t
exactly tight but the illicit nature of the event
provided all the thrill necessary for a vigorously
excited coupling. I groaned and thrashed through
ejaculation and I’m not sure what happened to her but
it was all pretty feverish.

Only seconds later, not nearly long enough for peaceful
contemplation, she nudged me with her elbow. “Off now,”
she ordered. “The power may come back at any moment.” I
rolled away and dressed quickly. “Leave,” she hissed at
me from the bed.

I groped around on the floor for a missing shoe and my
hands closed over a lump of cloth. Her panties. On
impulse I scooped them up and into my shirt pocket. I
opened the door and she hissed again. “Wait,” she said.
I froze. “Thanks,” she said. “It was nice.”

I shut the door and groped my way back down the hall.
Lights briefly flared through matches and cigarette
lighters and just as I passed the kitchen a candle cast
a more lasting light. I had time only to get my
bearings when the main lights surged back on. The
crowd cheered with relief.

The party wound down gradually and Shelley, my wife,
made eye signals at me about leaving. She sought out
the host, a middle-aged man she worked with. He and his
wife were wishing a line of people goodbye. Our turn
came and each shook my hand with polite smiles, knowing
Shelley but not me. I was thinking about where I’d
parked the car when the woman flashed out her hand and
smacked me soundly across the face.

Five or six people turned to look at us and I reached
up my hand involuntarily to protect myself. The woman
looked at me with cool grey eyes which flicked for just
a moment at my shirt pocket. The barest hint of a
woman’s panties showed over the rim. Unless you knew
what it was you wouldn’t know what it was. “You may
have had too much to drink, young man,” she said to me
loudly and clearly, “but I’ll thank you not to goose me
in public.”

“Uh, sorry,” I mumbled, and slid quickly out the front
door.

My wife followed hard on my heels.

“What the hell?” she demanded. “Did you pinch Eva
Hartmann on the bottom?”

“No,” I said truthfully. “I guess she had me confused
with somebody else.”

Shelley laughed. “Wow,” she said. “I can’t imagine
anyone ever having the courage to pinch Eva. What a
battleaxe.” I mused about it on the way home. The
formidable Eva Hartmann, dowager of the charity set,
had to be 55 if she was a day. Built like a diva.

That old saying must be true: “They’re all alike in the
dark.”

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