The Christmas Party Finally Ends

I don’t want to turn this blog into a pity party for myself! I am actually a pretty positive person in life. And while many negative things happened to me over the past couple of years, I sometimes can’t help but to laugh at the zaniness of it all.

OK, I was left sitting on the bedroom floor with my torn pantyhose next to me. I had just been raped by my husband’s CEO. And, yet, my greatest fear at that moment was that I had been away from the party too long! I felt a tinge of horror considering the possibility that we were critically low on salsa for the chips and the ice for drinks may be gone! And I knew my dear husband would not notice such things. I had to get back downstairs immediately!

I quickly ran to the bathroom and brushed my hair quickly to try to eliminate the “just been fucked” look. Then I ran down the stairs with the coats in hand that was the reason I originally came upstairs.

Jeff look irritated as I ran down the stairs. He asked me what took me so long. I smile brightly and told him that I was sorry, but I was having sexual intercourse with a guest. Jeff rolled his eyes and told me that I need to lay off the wine.

I suppose I should give a little background. I have always had a sarcastic sense of humor. I suppose I use sarcasm as an emotional defense. Anyway, the down side (or benefit) of being sarcastic is that my husband frequently does not take me seriously.

For whatever reason, I experienced a rush of adrenaline. I was able to repress what had happened, and I concentrated on being the perfect hostess. I was a whirlwind of activity in making sure the guests had drink and food. I was not about to allow one glass to go empty while I was on watch! I also joined in the conversations and was as charming as I could be. I was strong and confident. And then Lisa joined the conversation.

As I think I mentioned in a previous post, Lisa is Mark’s wife. Although I would guess she was in her early 40s, she reminded me of the stereotypical trophy wife. She was tall, skinny (probably a size 0) and very blonde. Although I have very fair skin, her skin was even fairer than mine – almost translucent.


She wore a dress that probably cost more than my monthly salary as teacher. A diamond chocker glistened around her neck. And her wedding diamond looked was huge. Not only was she obviously rich – she had the style and manner of a woman who had always been part of the upper class. Year ago people would have used the phrase “blue blood” to describe Lisa.

As she joined our small circle of conversation, my heart started to race. I felt short and dumpy next to her. A wave of guilt and near panic overwhelmed me. My intuition told me that she just KNEW her husband had sex with me. It had no reason to logically believe that was the case. But my gut told me that she knew.

As the people around us continued the conversation, Lisa just stared at me with her green eyes. I told myself to calm down and act cool. I told myself that I was imagining things.

Then we had the following conversation. This conversation was a couple of years ago, so it may not be verbatim.

“You have a charming, little house,” said Lisa.

She was polite, but I could tell she was patronizing me. I just smiled and said thank you.

“And this was a charming little party. My husband frequently gets bored at these types of events. But I can tell that you provided him with a good time.”

My heart froze. How did she know? Her quick glance down provided me with the answer. I was no longer wearing my hose. In my hurry to get back downstairs I forgot to replace my hose. I remembered to comb my hair and touch up my makeup, but I forgot the hose. I felt like a cheap whore.

Jeff babbled something to her about how happy he was that they had a good time, and that we should do this more often. Like most men, the entire exchange went over his head.

At this point, I became physically ill. The enormity of it all overwhelmed me. I told Jeff I was sick and he would need to see everyone out. I went upstairs to our bathroom and threw up.

I started a hot shower and I sat down and cried. I was a mess! My wrist was throbbing from where Mark held it tightly against the wall. My vagina was sore.

And then the real issues hit me. Would Jeff find out and divorce me? Was Lisa going to make trouble? What was to prevent Mark from attacking me again? We had unprotected sex - did I now have a STD? Could I have HIV? Was I going to die? OMG, I was not a birth control!

I got out of the shower and tried to compose myself in the mirror. Then I noticed my butt hurt. The skin hurt on my butt and I could not understand why. I turned to look at it in the mirror and I could see it was red. Then I realized – it was burned from rubbing against the wall as Mark fucked me.

I started to giggle. And I could not stop. It wasn’t that funny, but I was giggling uncontrollably.

I put on my night T-shirt and left the bathroom headed to bed. On the bed was my dear husband wearing nothing but a blue condom. I forgot that it was Saturday. Saturday was our traditional sex night. He looked like he was trying to be seductive, but he looked ridiculous. I started to laugh. And laugh. I was laughing so hard I was also crying. I could not speak. My dear husband got mad and left in a huff to the guest bedroom.

So I was slept alone that night. My wrist was throbbing and I ached all over. I was scared. I felt dirty. I was angry at Jeff. I hated Mark. And I cried softly until I fell asleep.

That last sentence is not entirely true. But I might end this post with the last paragraph. It makes me feel better as a victim. The truth is I did cry. But then I thought of how Mark’s cock felt in me. I became obsessed with that thought. After I masturbated three times, I was finally able to find sleep. (Yeah, I will be surprised if I share this paragraph.)