#barbara sabich

[jakegyllenbaalz]

jake gyllenhaal as rusty sabich (presumed innocent, 2024)

[gyllenhaalstories]

Episode 1: Bases Loaded.

Ruth Negga and Jake Gyllenhaal as Barbara & Rusty Sabich in Presumed Innocent.

[gyllencevans8]

Breaking my silence: I genuinely thought Rusty and Barbara were going to have hot, angry sex right here because there was a moment during this fight that she looked at Rusty's lips, and I thought, Are they about to fuck? I mean, that would have been so fucking hot.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Damn they got me good I wasn’t expecting that ending. The whole show should have been longer tho like why did Carolyn file that Hr complaint? I wished they built up a little more to and showed Carolyn’s side I know she’s dead but was she really over Rusty and it was a game ? Like why are all these shows only 8 episodes

Side note I wanted a plot twist where Tommy was in love with Nico I was shipping them so hard maybe it was just me. It seemed like Nico was jealous

[tv-moments]

Presumed Innocent

Season 1, “Discovery”

Director: Greg Yaitanes

DoP: Doug Emmett

[tvarchive]

RUTH NEGGA as Barbara Sabich Presumed Innocent (2024—)

[billyboyblue]

Hiii! 💛

I'm back on duty and I'm here to tickle the collective fandom brain.

With Presumed Innocent coming out soon (aaaah), I would just like to hear all your thoughts on Rusty. 

Is he guilty? If so, would we still do unholy things with him (duh, obviously)? Or is he just an innocent little guy and only guilty of cheating and murdering pussy? He obviously likes being choked and I'm not complaining. What else might he like? Is he a pancakes or bacon/scrambled egg breakfast kinda guy? He does need his protein tho, for several reasons... 👀

Please let me/us know all your thoughts and hopes for the new show and the character we're blessed with this summer, thank youuuu.

Paying my Rusty tax for inspiration ✨

Hi there hi!! Thank you so much for asking dude that's so considerate of you, I'm smiling like a loon whenever I see a little ditty about Jake going around 😊.

Oh yeah, so Rustholomew Jones Sabich the third is a full on useless man. And he expressed it multiple times in so many ways. The first thing we see is him looking for his phone first thing in the morning. What a dumb thing for a cheating man to do, lose his phone even in his own home. And then he asks someone to call it and it's his daughter that does so. Even for a little joke all I saw was chekovs gun.

Okay so I got insanely curious about the original after Jake's recent interview and watched it tonight and gosh yeah I'd recommend if you haven't seen it for Harrison's voice of nothing else, but in the movie there's a segment where he, Sabich, spells out the prosecutor's theory on himself and it's exactly what everyone sees in the new version. A jealous man driven mad with love and obsession pushed too far when left for another man. It's basically what's teased in the new trailer.

But what's different is the circumstances of the wife's role. I have 3 very specific moments I want to focus in on, this one:

The two times Rusty and Barbara look to each other with smiles on their faces and in the worst circumstances. One while on trial in front of the family and the other while presumably blowing up his mistress' phone on family night. One thing that immediately came to mind was huh. That's weird. Then this

Here she's saying that He and Her will fight to save their family. And he's puppydogging along as culpable as all hell doing his due repentance to save his family. As he should but also as he has no other choice because I believe that the murderer is his daughter or son. I'm leaning towards daughter as she didn't exist in the movie, she's an added layer to the plot directly drawn attention to 3 separate times in the trailer.

So what I think happens is this. Carolyn and Rusty begin their affair and it goes south, my instinct is something happens between Rusty's phone, his daughter and Carolyn to cause the strife. On the night Rusty texts her 30 times the daughter is there confronting Carolyn and struggle maybe?

Either way Carolyn is dead the daughter is responsible and now Rusty and Barbara have to close ranks. Rusty poses her in like a victim in a prior case to throw the cops off the trail.

To shine a bright suspicious spotlight on Rusty. To make it look like a multitude of things. It could be a prior killer seeking to mess with authorities and Rusty; it could be someone framing Him with the case they began their affair during; it could be rusty himself messing with the crime scene to mess with motive, (something the prosecution accuses him of doing in the movie). But really it's all a red herring to cover for his daughter and falling on the sword one way or the other. Either covering up a murder he's responsible for to protect his daughter or go to jail for a crime he didn't commit for his daughter.

I won't spoil the movie or who the killer is in it but hoo boy does it hit hard with an ending monologue and epilogue. I definitely wouldn't be surprised if the modernizing done was from the murderers standpoint. Either way I'm hoping for a good mystery over audience subversions.

There's something about pathetic men and the power trips they go on when they think they've found a space they can lose all the tie ups and inhibitions and insecurities. The euphoric rushes that come with secrets and taboo midnight confessions, panted and whined and gasped into a lovers mouth. The stinging ache of shame that splatters across his chest and cheeks as he's tied up and torn into like a present for a greedy hand make him feel that same warmth he used to get from being a good man and husband.

The sharp hatred and ragged words he fucks into Carolyn's more than accepting places feel like a balm on his soul. Not just the filthy things he says to her, or the shapes he folds her into, or the marks only he can leave are enough for men like him. They eat their obsession whole. Consume them to fill up all the hollow places they themselves carved into their life.

And that's what some men do. Use up the women in their lives in every way, stealing their life force ala Gone Girl like @ Stephendorff mentioned. It'd be beautiful poetry if after discarding his wife for Carolyn, and Carolyn for his daughter, that he pays that price.

But that's just a theory a game- no, no it's too soon. Sorry matpat it's too raw. Thanks you again Daphne! Hope I didn't let ya down and you liked the theory lolol😅

[stephtastrophe]

I finally watched Presumed Innocent last week and it was a really great movie!

The plot was basically insane. I never thought it was Rusty Sabich (not what I thought it was a first, but I forgot what I thought they were saying, similar but not quite but not sandwich which it also sounds like. Imagine being called Rusty Sandwich lol) that killed the girl even though all the evidence pointed to it.

You could just tell he was being set up the entire time because you could tell how much he was truly in love with that woman he had the affair with who ended up dead. Mostly because he was so upset when she turned up dead and was nearly in tears in front of his wife when she brought it up to him. You could tell he couldn’t possibly have done it because he just wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to do it.

I kinda thought it may have been his wife early on with the way she was behaving because she was jealous of his affair and love of Carolyn. 

Even his friends thought it was him and hid the evidence of the glass! The cop guy did for him just in case but it wasn’t him. Although, he kinda made it sound like it could have been and then threw it over the boat.

I’m not sure if Rusty thought it was his wife the entire time or thought it was the other corrupt cops who were taking bribes which he wanted to bring down.

I think Rusty did think it was the other cops until the moment he saw the tools, the hammer which broke probably as it was also used on Carolyn along with the small hatchet he was using to mend the fence which had her hair and blood on. 

I think you could tell in that moment he realised it was in fact his wife who murdered her and he wanted to cover it up for her. I thought at first it was the wife when he found it then thought for a moment again it was him maybe as he seemed so calm but it wasn’t. 

Then she came back and said she got away with lying at her work interview, not to a jury. Then Barbara went on to tell him that she killed Carolyn because of the affair and jealousy and how she framed him. She put the sperm there after having sex with him and bought some glasses the same as they had to get his fingerprints and take it to her house so it looked like he’d been there. It was so well thought out and crazy.

Then when Rusty got off the murder went unsolved as its practically impossible to try two people for the same crime and he didn’t want to leave his son without a mother. Even if she was totally insane. And poor Rusty felt bad because if he’d never had the affair his wife would never have committed murder. But she didn’t have to so it’s not really his fault that she got literally insanely jealous and killed her.

Harrison Ford was so great in it as Rusty, so believable - but he’s amazing in everything. 

The rest of the cast was really great too. I would definitely recommend! 

[itunesbooks]

Innocent - Scott Turow

Innocent Scott Turow Genre: Mysteries & Thrillers Price: $3.99 Publish Date: May 4, 2010 Publisher: Grand Central Publishing Seller: Hachette Digital, Inc. A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice "A driving, unputdownable courtroom drama/murder mystery that is also a literary treasure . . . Put this one on your don't-miss list." -Stephen King, #1 bestselling author of Sleeping Beauties More than twenty years after Rusty Sabich and Tommy Molto went head-to-head in the shattering murder trial in Presumed Innocent, the men are pitted against each other once again in a riveting psychological match. Now over sixty years old and the chief judge of an appellate court, Sabich has found his wife, Barbara, dead under mysterious circumstances. Molto accuses him of murder for the second time, setting into motion a trial that is vintage Turow-the courtroom at its most taut and explosive. PRAISE FOR INNOCENT "Breathtaking . . . worth the wait." - Philadelphia Inquirer "Masterful . . . compelling and enjoyable." - Cleveland Plain Dealer "Fresh and fierce, more than a courtroom procedural . . . [a] delectable page-turner." - Chicago Tribune "A cunning, intricate thriller . . . meticulously constructed and superbly paced, full of twists and surprises." - New York Times Book Review "Turow wins again . . . He remains at his best." - USA Today http://bit.ly/2IhmxH0

[biofunmy]

Jewish Summer Camp With Campfires, Crafts and No Lights Out

As if on cue, the first camper I meet is a guy named Josh: a nice, 27-year-old Jewish boy with kind eyes, a subtle smile and the same name as my husband, another nice Jewish boy, back home.

“Do you know where Malbec is?” asks this Josh, Josh Blake, rolling his eyes, and then his suitcase, over a wide dirt path flanked by rickety cabins that have been renamed for the weekend. (Malbec and Cabernet, for the men; Pinot Grigio and Rosé for the women; Raisins for all.) “I don’t want to walk all the way over there, if it’s back there …” he says, sounding not unlike Woody Allen.

I don’t blame him. The camp is desert-hot and dusty. And he’s ultimately here, he later admits over bagels, because his parents paid the all-inclusive $525 for him to be. They met on this very land, albeit half a mile away. “Talk about pressure!” he says, laughing.

Ilana Rosenberg, 31, sitting nearby, agrees. “My mother said, ‘Have fun! Go meet your Jewish husband!’ My sister was like, ‘Mom, she could find a Jewish wife, too, you know’.”

American Jewish University owns these 2,800 acres in Southern California’s Simi Valley, which is home to rolling hills and herds of cows, the university’s Brandeis-Bardin Campus and Camp Alonim. Over the next three nights and four days, this 66-year-old summer camp for Jewish kids has been commandeered by a new kind of summer camp — Trybal Gatherings, for Jewish adults.

Trybal Gatherings was founded by Carine Warsawski, 34, a buoyant, Boston-bred M.B.A., with the goal of fostering lasting community among Jews in their 20s and 30s, and, ahem, a few in their 40s.

She held her first Gathering at Camp Eisner in the Berkshires in 2017, roping in mostly friends of friends. Over Labor Day weekend, it sold out, with 125 campers and a wait-list dozens’ deep. Last year, she added Wisconsin; next summer Atlanta, and has plans to expand from Seattle to Austin to Toronto.

Whereas traditions like Birthright Israel offer free trips to the homeland, Ms. Warsawski’s aim is to offer an immersive, low-commitment experience closer to home — one rooted not in Zionism or religious doctrine, but in the shared nostalgia of a Jewish-American rite of passage, complete with archery and horseback riding, and a roster that reads like it’s from the Old Testament. (At one point, I’d forgotten my name-necklace. “That’s O.K.!” someone joked. “It’s probably either Sarah or Rachel.”)

There are two main differences between Jewish kids’ camp and Jewish adults’ camp: No bedtime, and booze, lots of it. Kiddie-pools brimming with hard seltzer at Bubbe’s Beer Garden. Bottles of cheap wine at supper. Compostable flutes of bubbly at Arts & Crafts.

Also, adult campers have careers, though no one talks about them. Web developers and screenwriters, wedding planners and wardrobe stylists. And yes, a few doctors and lawyers. The majority came solo; others hand-in-hand and interfaith or happily married in matching outfits, like Emily and Rachel Leavitt — my Secret Santa, er, Mystery Moses.

It’s a mix of die-hard camp people reliving their glory days, once-homesick campers redoing their awkward years, and first-timers wondering what all the fuss is about. “My parents were immigrants from Iran! They didn’t know about camp!” says Baha Aghajani, 30. Neither did Saraf Shmutz, 39, who moved from Tel Aviv to San Diego. “My summers were ‘go play soccer and bug off.’”

As a writer who hasn’t been back to her camp, Young Judaea, in New Hampshire, in 25 years, I signed up to learn what’s moving Jews to opt for uncomfortable bunk beds and kosher-style mess halls, in lieu of a real vacation.

Trybal isn’t the only over-21 camp cropping up these days. Nor is it the only Jewish one. Camp Nai Nai Nai, which also operates on both coasts, and attracts a post-college, more conservative crowd. And “55+” Orthodox Jews have been davening at summer retreats for decades at places like Isabella Freedman where campers crochet kippahs and take day trips to Tanglewood, in the Berkshires.

Trybal is arguably the only camp, though, that starts the day with an “Abe Weissman Workout,” a calisthenics routine straight out of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.” (Tomato juice refreshers included, but no rompers.)

It’s also, explains Ms. Warsawski, “a place for people who are more -ish than Jew.” Like Molly Shapiro, 28, of Berkeley. ““This is my jam!” she says. “Synagogues today aren’t really designed for us. We want something less traditional, more affordable, more fun. I mean, playing cornhole isn’t Jewish, but we’re playing cornhole together!”

Togetherness is what Trybal is all about. The schedule is packed from early morning to midnight with get-to-know-you-games and group activities like partner massage and mah-jongg, pickling and pool time.

The next morning, I pass up dreamcatcher-making for challah baking. “Oh yeah, this is what I’m here for,” says Abel Horwitz, a young Robert Downey Jr., kneading dough we’ll later braid and adorn with toppings beyond the traditional sesame. Rainbow sprinkles. Peaches. Jalapeños. “Will 20 loaves be enough for all 60 of us tonight,” some Jews worry.

Next, it’s a tossup between the relationship workshop and the ropes course. I decide I like humans more than heights and head over to hear what the visiting Rabbi Sherre Hirsch, has to say. She reads a passage from the 20th-century philosopher Emmanuel Levinas and tells us to partner up. A 26-year-old named Sam and I stare into each other’s faces for a full five minutes. “Sit with the discomfort,” the rabbi urges. Reluctantly, I do. I smile. He winks. I wiggle, examining his wrinkle-free forehead and bushy eyebrows bound to grow bushier in old age, until my awkwardness turns to calm. I’m overwhelmed by a deep feeling of curiosity and compassion for this man, for myself, for humanity.

“That was a good reminder,” Ms. Aghajani says afterward. “To give people more of a chance. To not swipe so fast.”

After a grilled cheese buffet, there’s solar art and yoga and Slip-n-Slide kickball. I head for the hammocks, where a guy with long red hair is lounging in a tie-dyed Helvetica T-shirt that reads “Falafel & Sabich & Hummus & Schwarma.” It’s his third Trybal. He is the camp guitarist, and a rocket scientist in real life.

“I come to be a kid again,” Jeremy Hollander, 34, says. He pauses. “And to, you know, be with my people.” In real life, he doesn’t bring up the fact he’s Jewish. “‘Hollander’ isn’t ‘Schwartzenbaum’. People see me and usually think I’m Scottish or something.” He feels safer that way. Especially today, he says, with rising anti-Semitism. “The flame is being fanned. You never know who has what opinions. Here, I can let my hair down.” (Although, technically, it’s in a ponytail.)

“The only one thing I have to worry about at camp,” he says, “is when am I going to squeeze in a shower?”

Still, before sundown, we all emerge from our bunks neat and clean and dressed in white. “Can you believe I got this for $2.99 at Saks Off Fifth!” exclaims Lauren Katz, a volunteer staffer wearing lace. (We can’t.)

Picture time. “Say Cheese!” the camp photographer instructs. “But we’re lactose intolerant!” someone cries from the crowd.

We gather in a stone-lined grove, to sing and sway and cheek-kiss “Shabbat Shalom,” before making our way to the dining hall for a sit-down dinner of roast chicken. And, of course, plenty of challah.

It’s all so familiar to me. The tunes are different, but the Hebrew words are the same. The trees are eucalyptus, not pine, and Mr. Hollander is not the longhaired, tie-dye-clad musician from my old camp, and yet — he could be.

I agree with what he said earlier. There is something easy and assuring about spending a summer weekend like I used to (albeit for eight whole weeks): with my people. Or, at least with people who remind me of my people. New friends bonded by old memories.

Trybal is like a modern millennial shtetl, where gesundheits fly. And “Hava Nagila” plays at a Hawaiian luau. And campfire stories include, “How I Became a ‘Nice Jewish Guys’ Calendar Model.”

It’s an alternate, insular world where I find myself running through a field, streaked in war paint, chanting: “We have spirit, because we’re Blues! We have spirit because we’re Jews!”

It’s a universe where conversation flows from the Netflix show “Shtisel” to the lack of Jews in Santa Barbara to the universal disdain for online dating (despite the fact that Trybal is sponsored by JSwipe), to whether Ms. Rosenberg indeed met her future husband.

“We’ll see,” she says, smiling. She did make-out at Arts & Crafts with the Trybal barista: a boy she barely remembers being at her bat mitzvah.

On the last night, I slip quietly out of the luau, where the D.J. is rocking “Lean On Me.” I leave the Leavitt ladies in their twin Hawaiian shirts and my Rosé bunkmates dancing the macarena. Mr. Shmutz and the Cabernets are making reunion plans. Mr. Blake is flirting with one of his crushes.

I have an early flight to catch. Back to my husband and kids and, in a way, the future. In the morning, I’ll miss the friendship bracelets and the compliment circle and, like a true last day of camp: tears. For a moment I have FOMO. And then I realize, it’s fine. Sometimes an Irish goodbye is just as good as a Jewish one.

Rachel Levin is a contributor to the Travel section and the author, with Wise Sons Deli, of “EAT SOMETHING,” to be published in March, by Chronicle Books.

52 PLACES AND MUCH, MUCH MORE Follow our 52 Places traveler, Sebastian Modak, on Instagram as he travels the world, and discover more Travel coverage by following us on Twitter and Facebook. And sign up for our Travel Dispatch newsletter: Each week you’ll receive tips on traveling smarter, stories on hot destinations and access to photos from all over the world.

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[gyllenhaalstories]

Episode 4: The Burden.

Ruth Negga and Jake Gyllenhaal as Barbara & Rusty Sabich in Presumed Innocent.

[gyllencevans8]

You just know that when Jake Gyllenhaal makes this baby crying face, he's about to act in the most unhinged way

I didn't like this scene. Rusty scared me so much, and I just know that Jake Gyllenhaal dreaded filming it because I remember when he said that in the scenes in Ambulance when he grabs Eiza in such an aggressive manner, he is always making sure she is okay and not hurting her.

[tv-moments]

Presumed Innocent

Season 1, “Pregame”

Director: Greg Yaitanes

DoP: Doug Emmett

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

Oh what a wild ride Presumed Innocent is. I came for Rusty (ba dum tss) and some light murder mystery and seven episodes later I am still here, very confused and HOOKED.

There's only one episode left. So guys, tell me, who do you think has done it? Who killed Carolyn? (Tell us in the comments so you can brag in one week if you guessed correctly)

Please feel free to share every theory and opinion you have under this post or tag me if you post something on your blog, I am dying to know what you guys think. Thank you so much!

Shamelessly tagging the Crew (SORRY IF YOU DON'T WATCH THE SHOW, just ignore this, thank youuuu):

@gyll-yee-haw @gyllenhaalstories @charliehoennam @harmonity-vibes @jennaajoseph

@billyboyblue @stephendorff @lust4life01 @det-loki @ilovedavidloki

@anunusers @frozen-hearts-club @caffeineplusmypen @tayduagyllencevans @greenparadiseperry

The crew=every blog that comes across my dash and interacts with Jake content. If we've never talked: hi! If you want to be part of the crew, dm me. ✨🫶🏻

[gyllenhaalstories]

WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND (PART 2) — BARBARA & RUSTY SABICH

summary: with the help of a sweet neighbour, barbara takes a leap of faith. it is time for her to stop enduring and to start indulging instead, because... when she wakes up next to him in the middle of the night, with her head in her hands, she's nothing more than his wife.

warnings: presumed innocent spoilers, food, cheating, implied age gap, fluff, angst & smut (teasing, masturbation, voyeurism & exhibitionism, mild mommy kink, nipple play, finger sucking, pussy eating, fingering, threesome, cuckholding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 5050

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: READ PART 1 HERE. things took a turn... oops. i hope you enjoy giving rusty a taste of his own medicine, because i sure did. thank you again to @sizzlingcloudmentality for your encouragement and your prayers to the gods of smut so i could finish the story. wowie, that's around 9600 words in total. happy pride month i love women! (and rusty). thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

"You look so good in that apron, sweetheart." Barbara praised you. She sat on the counter while you both enjoyed the last bites of the food you cooked for her. "It makes me want to take it off."

Your cheeks heated up at the last comment. "I thought you liked it?" Barbara answered your question by saying she liked what was underneath a lot more.

The front door opened. Heavy footsteps disturbed your idyllic dinner with the older woman. "Hello?" Rusty called out from the living room. He looked around, he recognized his wife's cardigan on the couch alongside pieces of clothing he had never seen on her... But he had seen them on his neighbour. You wore them on the morning when he caught Barbara talking to you by the mailbox. He swallowed thickly when he received the sound of giggles and hushes coming from the kitchen as an answer.

"Rusty. You're home early." Barbara spoke before an uncomfortable silence settled in. "Say hi, sweetheart."

"Hi." You smiled faintly at the man who squinted at you as if he could not believe his eyes. You turned around again. You smirked to yourself, thinking that maybe he could see his wife's happiness better if he put on his glasses.

Rusty's eyes switched between his wife's face and the back of your head. His gaze wandered down to your bare back. Only the band of your bra and the ties of the apron covered your skin. The rest was hidden from his view by the kitchen island. "What is going on?"

"She offered to make me dinner. Isn't she so sweet?" Barbara caressed your cheek with the back of her hand. She admired the smile she got in return. "I didn't know you'd be home before we were done." Oh, she knew. Rusty could feel it too. "Is there enough left for him?" You scanned the remaining ingredients and nodded. "Would you be a dear and make some for my husband?" She looked at the man. "You must be so tired from preparing this trial. There's so much at stake."

You sliced the rest of the green apple, chopped more walnuts and you turned on the stove top to heat the pan while you removed the crust of the brie cheese. You intended to make a special grilled cheese sandwich for your special neighbour... Rusty was not that special, at least, not to you. Obediently, you focused on your task and assembled the sandwich.

"No, no, no!... Hold on. What is going on?" Rusty asked again, determined to get to the bottom of the case. "A week ago she was in here and now she's... Here again. Half fucking naked? In my house?"

Barbara corrected him instantly. "Our house." She slid her body off the counter and glanced at you who flipped the sandwich carefully, minding your own business. "I don't remember you asking for my opinion when you were with Carolyn. I don't think I've heard you inquire about whether I was okay or not with you sleeping around with your colleague." The woman crossed her arms against her chest, shielding herself. "I don't owe you anything, Rusty." The words he blurted out were loud, filled with anger and misplaced resentment. Something along the lines of You don't owe me anything? I'm fighting for my life out there.

Poor little thing, you thought to yourself. You placed the toasted sandwich on a plate and used a large knife to cut it diagonally. You then turned around to face Rusty and dropped the plate before him. "Yeah and who's fault is that?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Rusty's eyes burned you with his rage, but he laughed at your audacity. "Who are you to talk to me that way?" You held his gaze. He was not much now either anyway. A demoted attorney about to be thrown in jail to rot for his crimes. That did not hold much power anymore. "Who are you to come into my... our house and bang my wife?"

"Shhh, easy, babygirl." B placed a soft, soothing hand on your exposed shoulder after fixing the bra strap that slipped. She let you know there was no point in you getting worked up that way. "We didn't bang yet." She repeated the word Rusty used with a hint of disgust in her voice. "We were having dinner first. And besides... I wanted it to be special. Now, eat before it gets cold."

You grinned when Rusty plopped down on a stool by the island and reluctantly took a bite of the sandwich. You hoped the sweetness of the honey you drizzled on top of the grilled cheese would counteract his bitterness.

Rusty did not have much of an appetite, but he slowly chewed bite after bite. His heart was racing, his thoughts were racing too. How could he have been so oblivious? He was not oblivious, he was suspicious. How could Barbara have kept this for him? She did not, she made it obvious. Especially with the lingerie and nudes. Why this, why that. Why... You? He narrowed his eyes to scrutinize you. You were beautiful. You seemed nice during your first encounter, he could not say the same about tonight. Most importantly... You brought a certain light in Barbara that he had not seen in years. Her light had been dimmed by his own actions and their severe consequences.

When you came back from the sink after you washed your hands, Barbara gave her husband a show. The food was decadent, but so was the sight before his eyes. She slowly untied the apron and pulled it over your head so that you stood half exposed in front of Rusty. Her soft and gentle hands travelled to your belly that she caressed lovingly. Her fingertips traced the cups of your bra and followed the lingerie up to your shoulders. Goosebumps made the hair perk up on your skin. B locked eyes with her husband when her lips met with the skin of your neck. He shifted on the stool. She placed kisses all over it until Rusty finished his plate. She sucked a hickey on your skin until you moaned her name. "That's my good girl."

You moaned louder when Barbara used these words on you, you heard Rusty sighing too. The big bad wolf that yelled at you was practically turning into a soft little lamb. Your hand reached for Barbara's head and you kept her pressed on your skin so she could suck harder to mark it.

Rusty was drowning in his own confusion about whether or not he should enjoy this moment too. Not that he had much control over the way blood was rushing to his cock, leaving him light headed. Barbara acted with you in ways she stopped acting with him well over a decade ago when the kids came around. It ignited a flame of hope in his mind, but it died as fast as it appeared. He was not the receptacle to all of this attention. The same attention he tried to seek in another woman. Barbara was doing the exact same thing, except in completely different ways. What went around came around.

Satisfied with the state she put the two of you in, Barbra brushed her fingers down your arm until she reached your hand. "It's time for dessert." She led you to the staircase with Rusty following you closely. She climbed the stairs slowly, allowing her thoughts to run wild for a moment. This sent her back to a conversation with Lorraine Hogan when she brought up how much she appreciated her neighbour. Lorraine showed no hesitation in her support for her friend, suggesting that Barbara engaged in an adventure of some sort. A little bit of extramarital revenge sex. Barbara realized that revenge was not the main character in this particular story, other feelings came into play as well. Yes, it felt good to get back at Rusty in ways he knew like the back of his hand, but it felt even better to do something that brought her validation. She felt validated in the ways you responded so easily to her words, her touch, her kisses. She felt validated in the ways you treated her as a priority rather than an option.

You held Barbara's hand all the way up the stairs, not without flinching when you felt Rusty touching you. You had waited for this moment since the first day you watched Barbara from your bedroom windows. You had dreamed of taking things further ever since. You did not imagine it exactly this way, Rusty still seemed like an unwanted drop of ink in the great picture you painted of this moment. Still, you were not going to be picky. Much to your surprise, it was quite easy to go from your voyeuristic fantasy all the way to making your dream come true. Barbara wanted you as much as you wanted her and that, on its own, fuelled your desire in ways you had not experienced yet. Barbara was irresistible and you started to understand she thought the same of you.

So did Rusty. Tempted with a good time, he could only surrender to his lust. How could he not? He had two beautiful women before him. If he could manage to tune out the anger and incomprehension for the night, he could enjoy himself as much as Barbara and you. His hands rested on your hips for a moment, where your clothes met your bare skin. You felt him breathe against the back of your neck when he dragged his hands down, following the curve of your ass.

Barbara now stood in the bedroom she had set up for this adventure. In front of the bed, there was one single chair. There were folded towels on the nightstand. She had planned everything through, knowing you would give in. Knowing Rusty would grant her this wish. It was the least he could do. She was not asking for much, she was not asking him to stop cheating. All Barbara wanted, in this moment, was to do the same thing he had done countless times. She held your face in her hands, stopping you from reaching closer and stealing a kiss from her lips. "How do you feel about this, sweetheart? All good?"

You turned your head slightly to the side. Rusty was right behind you, as if he was in on it. It seemed as though he participated on this plan to give you a night you would not forget, but you knew that was not true. When you nodded at Barbara, she rewarded you with the kiss you so desperately wanted. "All good." She smiled against your lips when she kissed you again. The older woman removed the straps of your bra, starting with the one she fixed earlier, and let them fall down your arms.

Rusty unclasped your bra and discarded of it on the floor. He let his wife do the honours of touching your breasts first. He watched, from behind you, the way Barbara so carefully cupped your tits in her hands as if she was scared to hurt you. As if she was scared to get hurt too. Your first moan echoed in their bedroom when Barbara took one of your nipples in her mouth. Rusty's hand moved up your sides tentatively, Barbara did not stop him. He squeezed your other breast in his hand and played with your nipple, getting it stiff and sensitive for his wife to lick and nibble on.

Barbara glanced up at you. Your head was lolling to the back and resting against her husband's chest from having your nipples played with. She looked around the room. Their bedroom. It felt sacred. So much had happened within these four walls, a lot of good but, as of recent, mostly bad things. She hoped Rusty never brought his mistress up here. What they were doing to you right now felt like a violation of this sacred space, a testament to how Rusty violated Barbara's trust and love with the affair. She had to learn to differentiate. There was no we, since the affair. She was not Rusty. She was different because she shared this moment, she let Rusty in this once in a lifetime experience (at least, that was what Barbara tried to believe it would be). She showed she was capable of honesty, she also showed she was able to stretch that same honesty to her own advantages. The spouses were different and similar all at once.

You got accustomed to Rusty's touch, enjoying the way Barbara still remained in charge. She began to remove your pants, Rusty pulled them down until they pooled around your ankles. She peeled her own clothes off too, holding your lustful gaze while she did so. You made her feel so good in this moment, you tried your best to convey all of your desire despite it not being the first time you saw her naked body. "Please?" You reached your hands towards her and she nodded, granting you permission. You pulled her body against yours for a heated kiss.

He gasped while he watched the scene. From behind, all he could admire was the way his wife's face softened when you caressed her cheek. How her brows raised when you deepened the kiss. How her jaw dropped open to allow your tongue to explore her mouth. He stalled for a moment before he picked his glasses up from his shirt, putting them on. Then he, too, stripped naked.

Barbara's arm reached around you to stop Rusty from taking his black briefs off. Her head pointed to the side, to the chair. "We've been way too kind already." You smirked when Rusty reluctantly walked to the chair. It looked like a punishment, Barbara hoped it felt like one. "That's it, sit there and look pretty for us." She kissed the corner of your mouth before she spoke again. "You've been there for me during those tough times, haven't you? Yeah, you've been the best girl for me." Barbara quickly caught on the shadow of doubt in your eyes while you looked at Rusty. "Don't worry about him, darling. He's done far worse things." She glances bitterly at Rusty. "What?" Rusty opened his mouth to talk back defensively, but she was quicker than him. "It's not like I can get her pregnant anyway. What goes around comes back around, doesn't it?"

When B put it like that, it made you feel better. So much better, in fact, that, when invited to kiss Barbara's neck, you did not lose one more second ruminating over Rusty. It did not take long for Barbara to get so worked up she could not contain her whines. You made her feel so good, so happy. Happier than she had been in a long time. She deserved this, she deserved more.

Rusty sat back against the chair with a sigh. He crossed his hands in front of his crotch, miserably failing at hiding the tent in his underwear. His cock throbbed in its confines. Meanwhile, Barbara climbed on their bed and you joined along. His lips parted open when you positioned yourself between his wife's legs.

Finally. It felt like Barbara and you had waited ages for this moment. Your breath tickled her skin, your touch was so gentle too. You stroked your hands up and down her thighs and searched her face for a sign that she wanted to take a step back. You found no such thing. Her eyes sparkled with lust and she was relieved when she noticed you tried to lay down more comfortably. You peppered kisses down her belly button and lower, lower, lower...

The moan that Barbara let out when your mouth finally touched her pussy sounded heavenly. It made Rusty gasp. It made you crave more of those sweet noises. You lapped at her glistening folds, not yet daring to go further yet. You could only assume she had been wet for you all evening long. You were correct, she had been aching for your tongue for what felt like an eternity. You lifted your head, earning a nod as consent.

Rusty slouched on the chair at the sight of your tongue diving between his wife's pussy lips, flicking it over her clit to pull the softest mewls from her. His left hand rubbed his chin while his right one squeezed on his thigh, making the metal of his ring dig into his skin. He bopped his head along to yours while you licked up and down Barbara's pussy. As if he was doing it with you. He forgot when was the last time he did this to his wife.

Barbara tried to lean on her elbows so she could, much like her husband did, admire your work. You made that increasingly more difficult when you started to suck on her clit, making it that much more sensitive. "You feel so good, baby."

You helped to hook her legs on your shoulders, reaching towards her hands to hold them while B began to grind on your face the same way she did earlier on your thigh. You stuck your tongue out, letting Barbara enjoy herself to the fullest. While you took a breather, you did the same, you enjoyed the moment as much as you could. You raised your head up from its position and smiled at her with lips and chin covered in her wetness. Barbara's hand landed on your head and brought you back down again to finish what you started while she guided you through it.

Barbara called you her pretty girl over and over again, praising you for how you took such good care of her. Rusty palmed at his covered cock, desperately searching for relief. His face contorted in a series of expressions he could not even control, though he fought to keep his eyes open and not miss a second of the action. He grunted obscenely loud, taking in all of the signs of Barbara's imminent orgasm.

Her legs started to close around your head, feet hooked together against your spine. It left you no room to pull away. Small breaths escaped her parted lips, they started quiet but quickly turned into resounding moans that were muffled by the pair of thighs around your ears. For a short moment, she looked at her husband through hazy eyes. He seemed as entranced as she was. B needed to learn how to differentiate herself from her man, but, in this very moment, they were both the same. They were both in awe of you, totally entranced.

The attention got you blushing, you felt it despite being too busy to see it. Eyes closed, mouth and tongue hard at work to take Barbara over the edge of her climax. You knew it started when she tried to tug on your hair harder, when she was telling you to 'stay right there, keep going, don't stop!' You let her ride both your face and her orgasm. Her hand fell from your head, more praise fell from her lips. Barbara was ready to move on, but you were not. You swallowed the mess of spit and juices and then you just kept going. You kept going until you made Barbara writhe under all this stimulation.

Until you made Rusty flinch on his chair, ready to pounce. He settled back when you finally gave Barbara the time to relax and to process the pleasure you gave her. This adorable moment of protectiveness went completely over Barbara's hand while she giggled from the high. He wished she had seen it, he wished she had seen he still had it in him to protect her.

Barbara sat up, taking you along with her but she stopped you halfway with a kiss. You were on your hands and knees for her, while she tasted herself on your lips. She pulled away and held your chin firmly enough to turn your heard towards him. "Do you want him to fuck you?" Rusty's face started to glow with excitement. One word and he was ready to go. "If you want to, I'll share you with my husband." Barbara spoke without an ounce of enthusiasm towards her own suggestion. You took a moment to evaluate the offer presented to you with a grin on your glistening lips. Without saying a word, you turned your head back towards Barbara for another passionate kiss. "Good girl." She spoke against your lips. "That's what I thought. We're being so generous to let him watch, but he can't have it all. Maybe we can let him help..."

Maybe that would be nice... You let Barbara decide. With a nod of approval, Rusty sprung on his feet and walked towards the bed. He had a hand on Barbara's back and one on yours, roaming the exposed skin while you kissed his wife. Satisfied, Barbara crawled on all fours to the head of the bed. She rested her back against the upholstered headboard and opened her legs for you. You crawled, too, assuming she wanted you to taste her again, but she had a different plan in mind. She instructed you to sit on the empty space between her legs with your back pressed to her front.

Rusty finally joined the two of you on the bed. He sat back on his knees and tugged on his cock, it throbbed when he pulled his hand away. His thumbs slipped under the waistband of his briefs but he was stopped by his wife again. She knew he was aching for it, for you. She was not ready to share. She did not want to share.

Barbara easily spread your legs apart with her hands, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She leaned her chin against your shoulder and toyed with the stickiness on your inner thighs. "All for me, sweetheart?" You nodded eagerly. She brought her fingers to her mouth, revelling in the taste of you. Her other hand simply brushed over your pussy, making your hips try to hump it desperately.

You truly were desperate for more. Your hips jerked forward one final time and Barbara granted you what you wanted so badly. She pressed her left hand on your wet cunt, her ring finger pushed between the lips. You placed your hand on hers and made Barbara rub circles against your clit.

Rusty pushed back on your legs as they started to close. He wanted to watch. He wanted Barbara to watch the mess she was making between your legs. The more she rubbed, the more you leaked on the bed sheets. And the more he wanted to taste you. He leaned forward, but, this time, you stopped him.

"Good girl." Barbara praised you for not rewarding Rusty with the pleasure, and the privilege, of eating you out. She reminded her husband that his purpose, in this moment, was to help while she did all the work. B picked up the pace. It made your mind all fuzzy. Her expert fingers found a rhythm and angle that made you struggle to keep your eyes open.

And your legs too. Rusty did his job and kept you in place, spread open for both of them. You slouched on the bed, giving in to the sensations of Barbara's fingers rubbing you just right. It was almost like she studied the way you did it, that one time when you could not stop yourself when you watched from the window. The new position allowed Barbara to push one finger inside of you. The moan you let out drove the spouses insane.

Rusty's hips jerked forward, his body barely resisting to your reactions. He watched his wife's finger disappear inside of you knuckle after knuckle. He wished that was his finger. No. He wished that was his cock. Better. He wished you clenched on his cock so hard he would have to fight to pull out in the same way Barbara did with her finger. "Fuck." He grunted as Barbara pumped a finger inside you faster, her palm slapping against your slick folds.

For an instant, B's eyes left your body to stare at Rusty. The vein on his temple pulsated, his chest heaved and increased in redness. He was on the edge of breaking the rule she set just so he could dive inside of you and have you all to himself. She found his struggle amusing, but her heart pinched at his resistance. He tried. For once, he tried to do the right thing.

"Oh my God! Yes!" You moaned out, your body writhed with ecstasy but remained secured in place under Rusty's hands. Barbara took it as a sign to make you feel even better, in the hope that you would enjoy it as much as she enjoyed your mouth on her. A second finger entered your pussy and you shot your eyes closed.

"Open your eyes." Barbara and Rusty ordered you simultaneously. You had no choice but to obey. Rusty gave you just enough wiggle room to fall further on the bed, sprawled open for them. Barbara met you halfway, hovering you so her hands would not leave your heat. His grip on your thighs was bruising. You could not bear to imagine what it would feel to be fucked by Rusty with the same determination he poured into keeping you exposed for his wife.

Barbara chuckled in admiration at just how tightly you clenched around her two fingers. "I can feel it, sweetheart. You're so close." She kept her impressive coordination, between the circles she rubbed and the back and forths of her fingers. "Oh, I know, baby. I know." She cooed at you, buying herself just a few more seconds inside you. "You're making a mess for me. Look at it, look at that pretty pussy." You glanced down for a second, humming in response. She was not ready to stop just yet, but your adorable pleas that begged her to let you cum won her over. "Let go, let go for me. That's it, baby... That's it. Give it to me." The emphasis on Barbara made you see stars that floated around her beautiful face. "Cum for me."

You let go, giving everything you got to Barbara. The sheer force of your climax took your breath away, keeping you stuck in a moment you did not want to get out of. Your eyes fluttered, a myriad of emotions floated in your wide pupils. This was different than what you imagined in your dreams. You were not too mad about the man's presence, he made it easier for Barbara to please you. This was different, but it felt incredible. So incredible that you would be lying if you said you did not want more. Now or later, you did not care, as long as B granted you the privilege of being in her presence. Whether your clothes were on or off did not matter too much either, all you wanted was her. You would take anything she would give you.

Barbara praised you through it until she felt you relax around her fingers. You even heard Rusty insert a few sinful words. "You looked so fucking beautiful cumming for my wife." The Sabiches shared the same smile, one of pure lust. Rusty's grip loosened around your thighs while he caressed your skin, daring to dip his thumbs in the mess that covered the area. Just this small feeling of you made his cock throb painfully, it had been denied for way too long.

When B pulled her fingers out of you, a gush of wetness dripped down on the bed. The three of you whined at the sight of your messy cunt and of your throbbing clit. "You did so good, sweetheart." Barbra, despite the uncomfortable angle, leaned forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. "You did so good." You thanked her, she thanked you back for this night of bliss. "Do you want to help again?" She asked her husband who nodded frantically, he was ready to accept whatever Barbara would tell him to do. "Clean her up."

Rusty discarded of his glasses, stretching his arm to set them down on his wife's nightstand. He laid down on the bed, much like you did earlier for Barbara. She let him hump the bed, still stuck in his pathetic search for relief. You whimpered when his mouth reached your core. Your back arched, your lips parted open to let out a series of whiny moans. Barbara reminded him to be gentle, that you were precious. She reminded him to take good care of you, or else she would not share with him again. Not a taste of your pussy, not a chaste kiss on your lips, not even a bite of the food you cooked for her. She would indulge in you selfishly... The way Rusty had indulged in his lust all by himself during the affair.

Barbara tested his commitment and, to both her and your surprise, he obliged. Rusty's tongue lapped gently at your puffy folds. Ignoring your pleas about your sensitive skin and skipping the preliminaries to get acquainted with this beautiful part of your body he had been forbidden to touch all night long. He ate you out with restraint, letting out a loud grunt when he swallowed your juices. His purpose was to clean up the mess, the mess he indirectly made through his affair, and he enjoyed the most out of the precious seconds his wife so generously granted him.

Barbara's lips curled into a smirk while leaning forward to tilt Rusty's chin up. He dragged his tongue on his bottom lip, his chin was soaked with your arousal. There was more love in his gaze during this moment than she had seen in a long, long time. It felt as though a dagger stabbed her in the heart. Metaphorically. She pulled it out, and pushed it deep in her husband's chest with her next words. She repeated something he said in therapy recently, a sentence she did not believe until just now. "Now you're helping to salvage this marriage."

[gyllenhaalstories]

WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND — BARBARA & RUSTY SABICH

summary: with the help of a sweet neighbour, barbara takes a leap of faith. it is time for her to stop enduring and to start indulging instead, because... when she wakes up next to him in the middle of the night, with her head in her hands, she's nothing more than his wife.

warnings: presumed innocent spoilers, food & alcohol, cheating, implied age gap, fluff, angst & smut (teasing, masturbation, voyeurism & exhibitionism, mild mommy kink, praise kink, finger sucking, dry humping). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 4575

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: READ PART 2 HERE. barbara is finally getting what she deserves!!! thank you @sizzlingcloudmentality for encouraging me to write this. the timeline of this fic is a little strange, just don't think about it too much. the fact that i wrote all of this before episode 3 and they just served me the plot of this fic on a silver platter after i was done. wow. well it's good to know i guessed some things right! thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it startled Barbara.

You had been nervous all day. Good nervous, for the most part. While your hands were busy baking, your mind travelled elsewhere. In a place where butterflies roamed free in your stomach. You glued your prettiest smile to your face when the door opened before your eyes.

"Hello?" Barbara's eyes wandered from your eyes to what you presented her. A present, wrapped in a kitchen towel. She caught a waft of the delicious aroma, she mirrored your smile. "May I help you with something?"

"No, I mean, yeah, I mean..." You cleared your throat. Oh, she had the prettiest voice you had ever heard. "I live next door... I thought I'd stop by and say hello."

B's head tilted to the side, she squinted.

"This is a pie, I baked it. For you." The words lingered one moment too long, the older woman raised a curious brow at you. You shook your head and rectified yourself. "For your family. You must be going through a really hard time right now... I thought it would help."

She grabbed the enveloppe that was placed on top of the baked good. She opened it and pulled out a card. "Get well soon?" She read, incredulous.

"Yeah, they didn't have a card at the store that said It sucks that everyone in town is talking about what's happening with your husband." You shrugged. To your surprise, Barbara laughed. "I figured this was the closest I could get."

"The pie smells delicious. I'm sure it will help me... Get well soon." You both spoke the last three words together. "I don't think we've met before. What's your name, sweetheart?"

You introduced yourself, she did the same although it was unnecessary. The Sabich's names were on everybody's lips for all the wrong reasons.

"Let me help you with this. Is it strawberry?" You nodded when she took the plate of pie off your hands. She took a moment to smell it.

"Strawberry rhubarb pie. I thought I'd do something special."

"Is this a special occasion?" Barbara smirked and disappeared into her house. She turned around, swallowed by the darkness of the hallway, when she did not hear your footsteps behind her. "You're being a good neighbour. The least I can do is share a slice with you."

You scrambled your way through empty excuses. The more you struggled, the more she found it endearing.

"Come on in. It'd be rude not to share." She spoke the next sentence, almost in a commanding tone. "You don't have to be shy."

You took a deep breath and you stepped inside the house. It was lovely, a lovely home. You closed the door behind you and tried not to let your eyes wander around too much. Now that would be rude.

The sound of plates and utensils guided you to the heart of the home. Barbara reached up on the tip of her toes to grab a plate. A fancy one, at that. "A special plate for a special pie." She explained, sensing your confusion from across the room.

To be fair, you were not paying much attention to the dishes. Your eyes were glued to the beautiful green shirt that hugged her figure. "Uh, yeah. Of course!"

One plate. One slice. Two forks. She placed the dessert on the counter, inviting you to come closer if you wanted a taste.

And you did. Your fingers brushed against hers when you reached for the fork. You let her take the first bite and your heart skipped a beat at her expression.

Her eyes rolled, she immediately went in for a second bite. "This is delicious! What took you so long to cook for me?" Another teasing smirk followed her words.

"I don't know... It took me a long time to unpack." You took a small bite.

"Right, you moved in not too long ago." She nodded slowly, feigning nonchalance.

"Your children were so nice, they offered to help. I'd still be carrying boxes in the house if they did not step in."

Barbara's smile beamed with pride, she loved her children so much. "My husband," the word carried more tartness in her mouth than the rhubarb in the pie. "helped too."

"Oh, totally! He helped a lot." You shoved a bite of pie in your mouth to stop you from saying something you could regret. You could not remember whether he even lifted a finger or not.

"My kids have always been like that, just happy to help. Don't be shy if you need extra pairs of hands." Again with the shy comment, she poked your timidity with a stick. "They're with a family member right now. It was getting too much for them. I hate to bring them into this."

You nodded slowly and your eyes fell down on the plate. There was only one piece of dessert left.

Barbara pushed the plate in your direction, but you tried to do the same thing. It resulted in your hands touching again. Accidentally.

You could swear that you felt sparks fly between you. Or maybe it was static electricity. The look on Barbara's face made you believe it was the former.

She chuckled and finished the plate. She admired the remaining pie, how the red syrup of the fruits leaked in the emptiness left by the missing slice. She dipped a finger in the liquid and brought it to her lips to suck clean. "Do you mind if I keep the rest to myself?"

What happened to being rude for not sharing?

*~*~*

You pushed the curtain to the side, just enough to glance outside. Your bedroom window faced directly to the neighbours'. You were surprised to see light shine from their window at this hour. It seemed unusual.

Barbara had the house all to herself for most of the time. The kids were at school, Rusty was at work. She liked to keep to her routine, but sometimes she also liked to get away from the ordinary. It could be a quiet smoking session in the backyard or, like today, a long candlelit bath.

You tilted your head and glanced at a silhouette passing by. It took a few blinks for you to register what you had just witnessed. You moved out of the way, in the fear of getting caught.

Barbara noticed a shadow from the opposite window. She shrugged it off and pulled her hair out of the short ponytail, disregarding of the towel that was wrapped around her body. She ruffled her dark locks and propped a leg up on the edge of the bed. Then, she squirted a few pumps of lotion in her hands before lathering her skin with it.

You decided to take a peek again and your eyes widened at the sight.

Slowly, Barbara applied lotion all over her body and rubbed her hands together to finish it off. A strange shadow cast over the upholstered headboard. She turned her head to the window again and caught the curtains flowing in the wind which was caused by you running away from your hiding spot for the last time that day.

It happened again. In fact, this dragged over a couple of weeks.

Barbara started to take baths at the same time, every day. Repeating the same steps of dropping her towel and lathering her body in a shimmery lotion.

Your schedules started to sync up (on purpose). You woke up just in time to watch her. You were still convinced that she had not seen you, that she was unaware of your shenanigan. It fuelled your curiosity. The more it happened, the less careful you were getting. You enjoyed the view, paying less and less attention to the voice of reason at the back of your head that told you it was wrong. Just so wrong.

B faced a similar struggle. What started as accidental quickly became intentional. She liked to go a step further every time, trying to distract you just long enough so you let her admire your reactions from afar. She was trying hard, she was dedicated to keep you staring for as long as you could handle it, but she selfishly revelled in the feeling of being admired. No, better yet: desired. The attention felt so good. She had not experienced anything like this in years.

Even though you stood there by your window day after day, with your jaw dropped and your eyes darkening with ever growing lust, you did not do much to fuel Barbara's newfound hobby. You gave her enough yet not enough at all.

She was left wanting more. She was left thinking more, as well. Was it what Rusty liked so much, this game of cat and mouse? Was it what drew him towards another woman? Did he experience so much turmoil too, caught between giving in and resisting? After countless conversations with their therapist, B concluded that she would never even try to understand her husband's actions. Maybe... She could revisit her categorical opinion on this. Maybe she could try to understand him for her own benefit.

Things evolved rather quickly. You would catch the older woman putting on lingerie with a mirror angled towards your windows so she could watch that tiny reflection of you cover your mouth when you gasped.

You would also catch her doing the most boring tasks completely naked. Barbara made the bed without a piece of clothing in sight. She would fold laundry on the bed too, again, while wearing nothing.

However, there was always something that ruined this perfect fantasy. Or more so, someone. Her husband. They would have long and serious conversations at night. Almost every night. You could not hear them, but you still figured out they were fighting. It would end with the man leaving bed and walking out of the room. Almost every time. On rare occasions, they would kiss each other good night. You thought he was the luckiest man alive. He got to do what you dreamed of night after night.

After numerous overthinking sessions, Barbara judged it was harmless to let you watch. You were not even touching, not even talking. Just... looking. This could become a valid deal breaker, in a normal marriage. Rusty had ripped the concept of normalcy out of her hands the day he decided to cheat on her. It was harmless to feed into your voyeuristic fantasy. She knew you were getting off on it, she had seen you with your hand in your panties, but knowing there was someone out there who desired her so explicitly felt more gratifying than anything.

You were a stranger who thought she was beautiful and sexy. It was an exciting exchange: she enjoyed putting on a show for you and you enjoyed the show she was giving you almost on a daily basis. Barbara did not know that she occupied your thoughts, day and night.

All she knew was that she wanted to feel your hands on all the places she touched herself while thinking about this thrilling adventure with her neighbour.

*~*~*

"Do you like it around here?" Barbara snapped you out of your reverie.

"Sure, it's a nice house." Your eyes wandered around the kitchen, pretending to appreciate the decor. Pretending not think about Barbara sitting on one of these counters.

She chuckled at your response. "I meant the neighbourhood." She stood in front of the sink to run her hands under water, washing away the sticky syrup. Her wedding ring sparkled under the water. "But it's good to know you like it here."

You laughed nervously.

"Let me give you a tour, I've got a few art pieces on the walls, but no one new to show them to." Barbara walked past you, her pinky finger brushed against the skin of your hand as she exited the kitchen.

Goosebumps immediately started to spread all over your body at this innocent touch. You followed her closely behind. Everywhere you looked, there were family portraits framed on the wall. You watched her children grow up through various photographs, it was heartwarming. Your heart grew cold when your eyes met with the pictures of the man who sent this gorgeous woman to bed sad and bitter every night. You would treat her so much better.

B instructed you to look at a painting on the wall while she told you all about this local artist who was very secretive about their creations.

You could not comprehend a single thing about the painting in front of you, for all you knew, it looked like something a child could have scribbled while bored out of its mind during a rainy afternoon. Ah, abstract art. You shrugged.

Barbara told you an anecdote behind the purchase of the large piece on the living room wall, a gradient of colours that was supposed to inspire a series of renovations in the house. Rusty was too busy to attend meetings with the contractors, they never renovated anything in the end.

The couch looked spacious and comfortable.

Barbara guided you upstairs. More family photos, more paintings. A lot of clutter piled here and there on the second floor, it did not look too intentional. It looked more like a tornado had blown everything down on the floor. You did not ask further questions.

You froze in place when you walked in front of the last room, the master bedroom. Your heart started to race when you recognized the duvet, the headboard, the mirror that stood at an odd angle... You blinked away the flashbacks of what you witnessed from your window.

"You already know this room, don't you?"

Before you could mumble a reply, an excuse, Barbara was headed downstairs with a smirk on her face.

You followed her. On your way down, you held the stair railing so tight that your knuckles turned white.

The timing seemed too good to be true. The front door opened to the sound of an unenthusiastic "Honey, I'm home".

Out of habit, Barbara kissed her husband's clean shaven cheek. The kiss lacked just about as much enthusiasm as the man's greeting.

You suddenly felt out of place. You started to question if this was a good idea. Of course it was not. You brought a pie to your married neighbour who had been showing up in each and every wet dream you had for weeks. You felt like the most horrible person in the world. You stared at the tall man in front of you who had wet hair and marks on the sides of his face left by his swim goggles... Okay, maybe you were the second most horrible person. Barbara's beautiful voice brought you back in the moment once again, as she introduced you to Rusty.

The man furrowed his brows for a quick second, confused about your presence in his house.

"She's our next door neighbour. You know, the one who moved in recently? She told me how thankful she was for your help that day."

Rusty and you shared the same confused expression. You both switched it for something else, you glued on a fake smile and agreed to everything Barbara said.

Rusty, instead, shrugged. He had no recollection of helping you. To him, you were just one more forgettable face. He was used to seeing tons of those through his work, and other activities.

Barbara swallowed thickly. You had been so easy to talk to, but the dynamic changed for the worse now that Rusty was in the room with you.

You came to her rescue. "I'm so sorry... I better get going! I have plans tonight." Barbara's head turned rapidly towards you, a supportive grin on her beautiful lips. "Thank you for having me, Ms Sabich." You hurried towards the door that Rusty opened for you. "Mister Sabich." You nodded at him, avoiding to look him in the eyes again. You took a step outside.

Rusty smiled faintly at the sudden formality. He had the vague impression that he disturbed something, but, with another nonchalant shrug, he did not give any more time or importance to that feeling.

"What a sweet girl." Barbara praised you, speaking loudly on purpose. She wanted you to hear. "We just happened to talk about art so I showed her some of the pieces we got. This was her favourite." She pointed at the abstract painting that you saw at the beginning.

You speed-walked down the driveway and across the grass. You glanced quickly at the large window that looked into the living room. Your eyes locked with Barbara's for a split second before you fell out of hew view. Like the first time she caught you drinking her in through your bedroom window.

Rusty closed the door and his eyes followed where Barbara pointed. "That?" He squinted, as if it would help him see better. It could not have been more different from a professional work of art in the sense Barbara had described it earlier with you. "Didn't Kyle make this in kindergarten?"

What happened to feeling bad for lying?

*~*~*

The week following your proper introduction to the Sabiches was filled with a series of very fortunate events.

Conveniently checking the mail box at the same time as Barbara to spark some small talk speckled with flirtatious comments. Excitedly running to your favourite window to catch a glimpse of her while she got ready before disappearing into the en suite bathroom. Shyly smiling at Barbara while she stood in her towel, presenting two options of lingerie for you to choose.

You assumed she was headed out with her husband, all dressed up for him. Your lip curled up with disdain at the thought of Rusty being ungrateful for the time and effort his wife put into looking pretty for him only to be ignored.

The doorbell rang. The noise was so loud that it started Barbara who could hear it from outside.

You opened the door to find the most beautiful woman you had ever laid eyes on standing before you.

She squeezed the brown paper bag tightly against her chest. You did not even notice it at first, your eyes immediately fell on her shoulder. The collar of her shirt was misplaced and exposed her bra strap. She wore the lingerie you chose. She wore it for you. "I'm returning the favour." Barbara smiled warmly at you and entered your home as soon as you stepped out of the way.

You both talked about everything and nothing while having lunch together. It amazed you how she made you feel so comfortable, so at ease. The conversation flowed nicely.

Barbara learned quickly that the more she praised you, the more relaxed you were getting in her presence. She made sure to add endearing nicknames every now and then. She called you her beautiful darling and her sweet girl enough times to make you forget your actual name.

You had barely dipped your lips in the glass of wine, expensive wine, that Barbara poured for you. You did not need the alcohol to relax, Barbara worked her magic.

B, however, needed it. She needed the burst of confidence it provided to test her own limits, to see how far she was willing to go to chase a bit of the happiness Rusty had depraved her of ever since the beginning of his affair. She downed the last sip of her glass, poured a second one immediately after. She left it untouched, she kept it as a lifeline. An emergency supply of courage and audacity in case she ran out of both. "Come here."

You had been standing in your kitchen the entire time. It was like the tables had turned from last time when you visited Barbara. You switched places. You obliged and sat on the chair next to her. Your finger traced the rim of the glass, trying to distract you from your increasing nervousness.

"How do you feel about what we're doing?" The question, while vague, packed a punch. It had never been directly addressed before.

Your finger froze, immobile, when she placed her hand on your arm. Her touch was soft, warm. Inviting. "You have a lot more at risk than I do and I feel bad about it." She had a marriage, a beautiful family... And you had this wild fantasy about your attractive neighbour.

Your honesty appeased her. She stroked your arm gently, encouraging you to speak your mind if you wanted to.

You did. You told her how you felt bad at the thought of getting caught, she reassured you that you both had been very careful to have fun when she was alone. You were being reckless in a careful way, an antithesis that somehow made sense. Nobody else knew about it, nobody else suspected it. "I feel bad about all of that. But I don't feel bad about the way it makes me feel."

"Go on." She raised a brow at you. "How do I make you feel, sweetheart?"

You searched through your brain for respectful words to assemble into a sentence that would communicate just how much you loved to admire her, to desire her...

"Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel." B held your hand in hers, her thumb soothed your skin. She tilted her head, insisting that you looked at her while you spoke.

You threw your bullshit respectful words out the window. Barbara's gaze was as intoxicating as the wine she drank. "You're always on my mind. I can't stop thinking about you. I want to touch you, I want to kiss you, I want to..." You leaned in closer, murmuring at her ear how you wanted to eat her out until she could not take it anymore. How you wanted her to collapse under the feeling of your tongue. How you wanted to lift her up and to sit her on every surface of the house just to worship her while she moaned your name out loud.

The switch of dynamic left her breathless. She pulled away, leaning her elbow on the dining table while she admired your face in search of a sign that you were lying to her. Lies. Lies ruined lives. It ruined her life.

You held her gaze, giving her time to process. She had been so sweet to you, the least you could do is return the favour. Barbara licked her lips, her teeth sinking on the bottom one. "I want to do the things your husband doesn't do."

Her self-control shattered like the wine glass she accidentally pushed off the table when she stood up and leaned over the furniture to crash her lips against yours. This was the most passion Barbara had experienced in years. Perhaps decades. She submerged her entire being into the feeling.

You reciprocated the intensity of the kiss until you broke away to catch a breath. You stood up, stood in front of her. She held your face in her hands, lovingly, and waited for you to speak again. "I want to do whatever you tell me to."

The two of you nodded, a silent acknowledgement that you were crossing the point of no return. Together.

The week was filled with stolen moments and forbidden touches. You explored each other's limits, not without being in awe at how easy it was to push all of those boundaries. More lustful kisses. More lingering hands on thighs and hips. More fingers tracing curves. More. There was always more, more, more.

A week ago, Barbara did not even know your name. Now, she was moaning it out loud while your hand rubbed her over her panties, sitting on the couch of her living room.

A week ago, all you knew about this woman was her name. Now, she had you calling her Mommy when you could not wait any longer and needed to feel her lips on your neck to mark you with pale hickeys only the two of you knew about.

Her fingers explored your mouth while you sucked and moaned around her digits.

Your tongue explored her mouth while she panted for air, overwhelmed by the dizzying desire between the two of you. The tension rose high and fast. Yes, this was about all-consuming passion. Rusty would relate. But it was also about liberation. Rusty could never imagine what it felt like to be trapped the way he trapped her with his lies.

Rusty would be lying if he said he did not grow suspicious. Something just felt off. Small details. Small details that painted a bigger picture, a painting that left him confused. Barbara cooked dinner, always saving a plate in the fridge for leftovers. Barbara cleaned often, always focusing on tidying up the couch with the messy blankets and pillows. She looked different. She looked light as a feather, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders meanwhile Rusty was crushing under the burdens of his shameful past.

Evidences piled up before his eyes, some pieces of proof stuck out more than the others. There was one example in particular. He could not stop thinking about what he found in the laundry room while he searched for a specific piece of clothing he needed to discard of for reasons. He found several mesh bags containing bras, panties and thongs he had never even seen before. More lingerie was hung to dry on a rack. Delicate fabrics, luxurious colours... He stood there, admiring the lacy patterns of a deep purple bra unlike anything Barbara had ever worn around him. It reminded him of the multiple charges to his credit card, recently. The first two dots connected.

His stomach dropped when he received a text from his wife, parked in Raymond's driveway. His phone had been buzzing relentlessly for the past few seconds. Rusty's heart raced in his chest. He opened the messages right away, without providing an answer. Barbara was left on read for several moments. He waited for the typing bubbles to appear, to explain what he had just seen. A picture, multiple in fact, of his wife wearing that unknown purple bra he laid his eyes on for the first time in the laundry room. Matching barely opaque panties. Panties pushed to the side, hand covering the rest. Wet fingers brushing over her dark, hard nipples. Smeared lipstick over the lips that sucked those same fingers. Rusty fell back against the car seat. He was submerged with confusion. He blinked over and over again, as if these photos would disappear. Maybe he made it up. Maybe he was beginning to be tormented by the guilt Raymond kept talking about. No. No, the pictures were real. This was unlike anything Barbara had ever done before. The pictures were very much so real. A quick message followed the nudes: "Sorry. I didn't mean to send that to you XO".

The evidence board reached its completion when, on the very same day he received the lewd photos from his wife, he drove on your street and saw something he was certain he hallucinated. Rusty slowed down until the car no longer moved. He rolled down the window, removed his glasses for a second to rub his eyes before putting them on again. While letting out a pained sigh, he processed the sight before him. Barbara was kissing you.

What goes around comes around, right?