Regrets

3. Jeannie

She looked at her husband. He continued to ignore her. Fuck it, she thought. "I'm going on a pub crawl with some of the other wives," she told him. "I'll meet you back at our room later."

Steve nodded. "Okay. Sounds good. Have fun," he said, without even looking at her.

I've been sitting right next to you all fucking night! What other wives? And since when would I go on a pub crawl? Jesus Christ, Steve! She shook her head and stood up. Nobody moved. I'm fucking invisible, she thought as she left the ballroom and headed for the elevators.

She punched the 12 button hard. That was her floor. As the elevator rose, she fished the envelope out of her bra. 1805. She punched the 18 button, then moved to the back of the elevator and leaned against the wall. Her heart was racing.

This is stupid. If I do this, I'm going to regret it. I've been with Steve fucking forever and I've never cheated. Not even a little. Not even once. And even if he never finds out... will he find out? How would he find out? He's so clueless. I could come back bathed in another man's cologne and maybe he'd ask if I changed my perfume. But probably not even that. Am I that clueless? Has he cheated on me? I don't think he has. I guess he could have. There have been plenty of chances. Anyway, I guess if I don't know and it didn't interfere with our relationship, then it really doesn't matter. But this... this would interfere. Even if he never finds out. I would know. And I would feel guilty. I'd regret it so much.

The doors opened. She didn't move. She stared down the hall at nobody, at nothing.

But if I don't grab this chance... This is a unique situation. This isn't something that will ever happen again. I want to know. I want to know what it feels like to submit to a man that way. I want to know what it feels like to cheat. I want to stop being so fucking invisible for an hour. If I don't do this, I'll regret it.

The doors closed, and the elevator started the ascent to the eighteenth floor. Her heart was racing even faster. Her breathing was labored. Her stomach was upside down.

I'm going to end this night with regrets no matter which choice I make. She thought about the man. She didn't even know his name. Just "Master." The elevator doors opened and she stared into the hall.

This is crazy. I don't know who this man is. I could get raped. I could get murdered. She didn't move. The elevator doors started to close and she lunged her hand out and put it between them. I'm a fucking idiot, she thought. The doors retreated and she walked through them and down the hall. 1865, 1863, she did the math in her head. If this pace kept up she would be in another city before she finally reached the dreaded room. At least she would have time to think. She reached the end of the hall. On the right, the numbers continued their slow descent, but on the left the numbers were much smaller. She turned left, and in a few steps she was in front of 1805. Fuck, she thought. She was expecting to have more time.