Come Over?
Come Over? short story stories

patrickryan182 Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A woman is at odds with herself about whether to go to a married man's house without his wife there, as she analyzes all the angles, what will she end up deciding to do?

Come Over?

"Hey, did you finish the reports?" Lisa texted.

"Oh, those subtotals were buried in the accounting, it took forever!" Will texted.

"Tell me about it, I was up until midnight trying to put it together," Lisa texted.

"Thank God the weekend is here, any big plans?" Will texted.

"Nothing really," Lisa texted.

"My wife is taking the kids to her sister's house in Platteville for the weekend," Will texted.

"I guess you'll get a little quiet, huh?" Lisa texted.

"Come over?" Will texted back.

Come over?

I'm just a 26-year-old associate who just started with the firm five months ago, and he's a 34-year-old, married, senior associate, who's been working with the company for three years.

I've always found him attractive; we smile at each other at the office, could I? You're crazy Lisa; there's no way you can go to a married man's house without his wife there.

What if he is unhappy in his marriage?

I'll look at his social media, I think we're friends, there he is; no photos of the family, no posts about vacations, and no little public love letters to his wife.

There's his wife, a great time for a friend recommendation, is that a sign? I'll check it out, what are the odds the platform recommended her profile right now?

Of course, pinned to the top, the ski trip that they took last winter, two kids, that settles it, there is no way I'm going over there.

What a beautiful family, what other photos do they have? There's a family photo from last Christmas, the wife and the two kids with Will strangely separated from the family.

Is this symbolic of their relationship? Why would he pose for a photo so far away from his family? Am I reading too much into this? I'll check out her profile information, married, 2013.

I read somewhere that there's a seven-year slump. If marriage is going to end, it's going to end after seven years. I think it's called the seven-year itch.

Well, if they're going to separate anyway, Will is a good-looking guy, funny, always knows the right thing to say.

What are you talking about, Lisa, you got all this from one photo where he's off to the side a little, you can't go over there, it's asking for trouble.

I remember Will and I did this amusing joke in the office; he taped a piece of paper to the copy machine, telling people to say the words print, copy, or scan instead of pressing the buttons.

So many people fell for the joke, people stood there shouting at the copy machine, we laughed for hours. I could sense we liked each other then.

Sure, so you like him, you can admit that. We are measured only by our actions, not by our feelings. He's got an incredible smile.

His children have his smile, particularly the older one, it's in the dimples. Oh my God, the children, I remember when my parents got divorced, I was devastated, I could never do that to them.

I can't go, I won't go, maybe I could go, but not do anything.

I'll go, but set the ground rules right from the start, that's it, I'm going to ask him straight out, are you and your wife separated? What if he lies?

There's no way to tell that; I can't go, I don't want to be a pawn in his game.

He probably wants to hurt his wife because they got into a fight, that's it, I'm going to sleep with the associate because my wife and I were arguing about house chores.

He just asked casually, "come over?" I suppose he's been planning this for a long time, why else would he spend so much time with me at work, it's not like he's my mentor or boss?

Yeah, he planned this, but wait, I'm the one who sent the first text. If I initiated the conversation, maybe it was just on the spur of the moment.

We're friends; friends go to each other's homes, it's definitely going to be a lot of fun. That's it; he's lonely, I'm lonely, we're just going to spend the night watching a movie.

God, Lisa, why are you making such a huge deal out of every little nuance in a conversation.

People do this; they hang out as friends, you know he's not examining every single word in this conversation, like you.

I don't remember the last time I went out with my friends, what friends? After I graduated from college, nobody's called, there have been no parties, it's all about work, I need a break, too!

I need to bring something, so he knows it's just a fun get-together, a bottle of wine?

You're nuts; you're definitely sending the wrong message, I shouldn't bring anything, nothing says it's a friendly get together.

Oh, my goodness, what if he gives me wine; when I drink, I make bad decisions. If he gives me wine, I'll politely decline, that'll send the right message.

Do I want to send the right message, though? It's been six months since I've had any action in my life. Perhaps that's just what I need, a quickie for the weekend.

Oh, Lisa, your life is so pitiful, what would you do at home, watch Netflix, and order Chinese takeout?

You need this, just this one time, if his wife never finds out, there's no harm, let it be clear right from the start, it's just a one-time thing.

Oh, my God, I'd better make an appointment with the salon if things were going to go that fast. I've got too much to do now; I didn't expect this at all.

What if he wants me to sleep over? And what if we spent the whole day on Saturday together as well? Am I supposed to bring a change of clothes and put them in my car?

Could you imagine if he gave me his wife's clothes so we could go to the park or something the next day? That's stupid; I'd just wear the same clothes I wore on Friday.

If I wear the same clothes two days in a row, does he think I'm gross? I'm going to bring a different shirt and keep it in the car.

Good, I deserve this, it's been a long time since I was happy, and I deserve to be happy!

It's going to be an amazing weekend, snuggling on the couch, getting comfortable, and eventually, we'll make our way up to the bedroom.

Making out as we loosen each other's clothes, it's going to take forever to get upstairs; we're going to be all over each other.

Wait a second, what if the children come home with his wife? Oh no, what if the kids run upstairs and burst into the bedroom to see their father in bed with another woman?

How humiliating it would be for both of us, his wife having to look at me, getting dressed and leaving the house in shame.

What if I were that wife, how would I feel if my husband were alone with a younger, unmarried woman in my house? I'd be suspicious; I'd be mad, no, I'd be furious.

I can't do this; it's a betrayal of sisterhood, a violation of the girl code, I'm going to have the burden of The Scarlet Letter to drag around with me at work.

Work, I'm sure that adultery is frowned upon at work, what if I lose my job? Or worse, if he decides to continue our liaison at the office, we'd be caught for sure.

People talk, I'm sure they're talking about how we eat lunch sometimes, people love to gossip.

I can't do this, be the target of scuttlebutt at work, keep on hearing whispers about me as I walk around the office. And if my boss found out, what would he think?

Lisa, you have to think critically about the situation.

What would your therapist say? She'd start talking about how I have to experience life; we've talked about getting something out of each day, connecting with more people, and socializing.

She says that I use work as an excuse. I'm afraid to take chances that I say that I'm too busy to interact with the human race.

She says that I lock myself up in my apartment, separated from the world, separated from other people, alone, with the only person I trust, myself.

It is going to make a great session; I'm going to have the experience to tell her, rather than the self-pity dribble I usually describe.

This is going to be a good one; I'm sure she's going to have a lot of notes to write, she's going to be so proud of me, finally, engaging in the human race, life experience,

not abstract fear that doesn't exist.

"Sure, what time?" Lisa texted.

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