Free Uncovering Helena by Kamilla Murphy

 
 
  
The New Year’s Eve party was at Ginnie and Lionel Wade’s
house last year, and that’s when I first saw it.  My name’s Paul and I’ve
been married to Helena for ten years now.  My wife was a gymnast in high
school and college, and with her baby face and four-foot-ten height people think
she’s younger than she is.  She may be short, but ‘petite’ doesn’t fit her
body.  In her thirties Helena is a curvy woman with D-cup breasts and
muscular thighs and glutes left over from her gymnastics days.  She knows
how to use that body too. I was accustomed to seeing younger men hit on my
wife, not realizing her age and that she was married.  I didn’t get pissed
off.  She’d gently let them down with the truth, and I felt lucky to be
married to her.
One of her trademark signals was letting her hair down. 
Helena has long, brunette hair and doesn’t like it down, usually wearing it in
a ponytail or tied up in a bun.  She says she looks more professional that
way.  However, when she wears it down she looks amazingly foxy, like a
Rubenesque Lolita.  When she wears it down she’s telling me what she
wants.  When she wears it down, those nights in bed are the best.
Still an hour away from midnight, what I saw was our host’s
hand up my wife’s dress while they sat on a sofa, and she not appearing to
mind. 
Did I tell you her hair was down? 
I didn’t have to guess what that hand was doing since
Helena’s mouth was open and some of her thick hair was stuck to her sweaty
face.  How could everyone else not see what was going on?
Why I didn’t charge right over there and put a stop to the
mischief surprised me.  Along with anger there was something
else—curiosity, arousal? I stood there with a drink in my hand and watched
until Lionel saw me, and like the guilty party he was he pulled his hand away
quickly and tried to look nonchalant.  However, I saw his glistening wet
fingers.  Now that Helena knew I’d seen them she worked at straightening
out her dress as well as her mussed hair.  The only decision I had to make
at that moment was whether to ignore them or confront them.  My reaction
was a blend of both.  I went looking for Ginnie, Lionel’s wife. 
As the party’s hostess, she was chatting with several
neighborhood women as I approached.  Ginnie Wade was at least ten to
fifteen years older than us and not attractive as far as I was concerned. 
In fact she was the direct opposite of my wife.  Where Helena was cute,
petite and yet extremely curvy, Ginnie’s face was rather plain, with perhaps a
too-prominent, square jaw for my taste, with words such as ‘butch’ and
‘big-boned’ easily coming to mind.  Maybe my perception was biased,
transferring my sudden dislike for Lionel onto his wife.  I asked to speak
with her and maneuvered her away from the group. 
She said, “What’s wrong, Paul? You look flushed. Food and
drinks okay?”
“Those are fine. It’s your husband who isn’t fine. I just saw
him feeling up my wife in the other room and I don’t like it.”
“Did you tell either one of them you didn’t like it?”
“No. I didn’t want to make a scene.”
“Let me tell you something, Paul. It’s no secret to me that
my husband has the sex drive of horny bull. He’ll chase any woman who gives a
signal that she wishes to be chased. I think you should talk to Helena before
doing or saying anything stupid.”
“You know he cheats and you let him?” I naively asked.
Ginnie laughed.  “I don’t ‘let’ him do anything. He’s a
grown man who makes his own decisions. I make mine too. We both have our needs
and we take care of them. Maybe you should pay more attention to your wife’s
needs instead of my husband’s.” 
As I walked away and went in search of Helena I thought about
what Ginnie had said.  I knew I was an old-fashioned kind of guy.  I
didn’t think about my needs except within the boundaries of my marriage. Loving
Helena took care of them,