Betrayal
Night had already fallen on this autumn evening, and a light drizzle was falling over the Parisian region. Nadège watched the various lights from the traffic through the Uber window. In her Cabaia backpack, a gift from her daughter Olivia for her forty-fifth birthday, were the two contracts she had just secured for the purchase and maintenance of two thirty-five-meter yachts, with a total value of nearly forty million euros. This contract was hers, hard-won against the competition, but she had known how to leverage her company’s strengths: a solid design, reliable and agile subcontractors, and a sleek design combining luxury, comfort, and modernity. This model was her accomplishment, an idea, a vision she had begun to develop during her naval engineering studies, more than twenty years ago. She couldn’t wait to celebrate this victory with Clément, her husband, with whom she had founded Atelier Maritime, a company specializing in the design and manufacture of luxury pleasure boats.
In a few minutes, she would arrive home, run a bath. She would open a bottle of champagne, there was always one chilling, and take out two glasses. Then she would wait for Clément, dressed only in the Lise Charmel set he had bought her for Valentine’s Day. She knew in advance how it would go. She would announce their victory, or rather her victory, and once the glass of champagne was swallowed, she would remove her silk robe and draw him into the bedroom. There, she would remove his pants and briefs, exposing his penis, which she would take into her mouth. After these preliminaries, she would let him undress her, perhaps he would agree to take care of her pussy, he didn’t appreciate that, but he could make an exception for once. After removing her navy blue lace panties, he would take her on the bed, missionary style. This would conclude an evening in the best possible way, well almost, she would be content with it. For a few years now, they had only done it mechanically, but he was her husband and she loved him.
The Uber announced its arrival on Boulevard de Courcelles, next to Parc Monceau, pulling Nadège from her sweet thoughts, she searched for her keys in her bag.
“Damn, I left them in my other bag at the office,” she complained. “Please, can you make a detour?”
At this late hour, intra-mural traffic was fluid, and the Uber stopped at the foot of the building that served as her office in the 13th arrondissement only a few minutes later. She dialed the code and opened the carriage door. She climbed the stairs to the second floor where her company’s offices were located. She dialed the code for the landing door and entered. The secretary’s office was not tidy, Céline must still be there. She headed towards the executive offices which overlooked Square des Chamaillards. As she approached the offices, she heard sounds of ragged breathing, then a cry followed by a moan.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
Not wanting to make any noise, she took off her heels and went to her office. The noise was clearly coming from her husband’s office, he allowed other employees to use it when he wasn’t there.
“I don’t think he thought of this kind of activity when he gave that permission,” she smiled.
Nadège, filled with curiosity, moved silently, gliding gently on the parquet floor thanks to her tights. The door was slightly ajar, she pushed it gently and froze. Céline was bent over the desk, her skirt rolled up to her hips, her panties and tights at her feet. Behind her, Clément was kneeling and eagerly devouring her pussy, Céline moaning with pleasure,Clément had never given her such care. He stood up, Céline turned her head towards him, her eyes burning with desire. He began a slow back and forth between the secretary’s hips while caressing her breasts, free under her open blouse. The sweet words they exchanged left no doubt about their relationship. These two were clearly not new to this. Thus, the watch she had noticed on Céline’s wrist a few months ago was a gift from her husband.
“The bastard,” Nadège murmured.
She slowly took out her phone and made sure its light was off, then filmed the scene. She captured the perfect moment, the one that would constitute ultimate proof. Céline had just asked Clément to leave his wife for her, to ask for a divorce. Clément answered the secretary in the affirmative. Nadège smiled, a glacial smile.
“Yes, he will divorce, don’t worry! But I doubt you’ll stay with him after the trial.”
The thirty-year-old turned around abruptly. Nadège backed away while continuing to film. Her husband, or rather her future ex-husband, presented his cock to his secretary who brought him to orgasm. Some of the fluid ran onto her breasts, the young woman smiled lovingly. Nadège turned back and tiptoed out of the company premises. Once on the landing, she put her shoes back on and re-entered the access code, then walked in making enough noise to announce herself. She entered her office and retrieved her keys, then headed towards her husband’s office. Both had resumed a decent posture and attire, only a few scents betrayed what they had just done, masked by the smell of the cigar Clément was smoking.
“Good evening, darling! Are you still here?”
“Yes, some files to finalize for the Neufchâtel contract,” he replied, then turning to Céline. “Will you prepare the documents for me? I’ll need them for the visit and the signing of the contracts.”
“Yes, no problem, should I contact Marc?”
“No, leave marketing out of it for now, we’ll have time to discuss it on the way.”
Céline left, her cheeks still slightly red. Clément stood up and came to kiss his wife. Nadège did not refuse.
“How was your appointment?”
Much less pleasant than for you, apparently, she wanted to reply.
“Very good, we have the contract!”
“Fantastic!” Clément exclaimed, kissing her again.
“I’m going home, I’m tired,” Nadège announced. “You won’t be too late?”
“We’ll celebrate this weekend! You know I’m flying from Orly tomorrow, well, in a few hours now. I need to finish this file and call the client in the Bahamas.”
“Too bad, we could have celebrated!”
“We’ll celebrate this weekend! I’ll be back in two days.”
“Are you going with Marc?”
“Yes, and if you don’t mind, I’m taking Céline too, last time, the client appreciated her presence.”
Of course, she thought. Knowing the client her husband was to meet, Céline’s presence in advantageous outfits was a kind of bonus and could facilitate things. Nadège was against this kind of practice, which she knew was common in the world of luxury she had frequented for nearly twenty years. But she suspected the real reason was elsewhere.
“Oh yes, that’s right! I had forgotten, I won’t see you again before Saturday, is that right?” she said as sadly as possible.
“It’s only two days,” he reassured her, kissing her.
Nadège left the office and stopped for a moment in front of Céline’s desk. Céline was preparing the various files on one of the tables. Nadège scrutinized her, the zipper of her skirt was not pulled up and traces of fluid stained her tights in places. The secretary turned around as she approached, Nadège saw at the right corner of her lips, a mark that could only have been left by her husband.
“Good evening, Céline,“don’t come home too late.
“I’ll finish preparing the files and then come home to get my suitcase.”
“Wait, don’t move,” she asked as kindly as possible.
She brought her thumb to the secretary’s lips and removed the fluid that was there.
“I’ve always loved that salty taste, she said, licking her thumb, enjoy these few days,” she said, leaving her sentence hanging. “And watch over my husband.”
Nadège got into the Uber and went home. She didn’t cry. Why feel sorry for herself? That scoundrel she had loved had been toying with her for a few months, or even a few years. She could almost pinpoint when he met Céline, and that was long before Céline joined the company. It was Marc who suggested hiring her. Marc and Clément knew each other from high school and had been partners in crime. She undressed and got into the warm bathwater. It relaxed her, and she began to plot her revenge. She put on her bathrobe and turned on her laptop. She drafted an email to her lawyer for the divorce petition. She attached the link to the video she had made. Then she called an acquaintance who lived not far from her husband’s meeting place.
“Enzo, how are you?” she asked in Spanish.
“Fine, Nadège, to what do I owe this late call?”
“Clément is cheating on me. Can you arrange to film him and collect evidence?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll pay you for it.
“No, I don’t want anything from you, thanks to you I have a job,” he explained. “This favor won’t repay everything I owe you, but it will contribute.”
“If you find me this evidence, you won’t owe me anything anymore.”
Nadège went to the bedroom and tried to fall asleep. All she could do now was wait.
