"Ngh! Ngh! NNNNGH! SHI-SHAAAA!"

Dale Gribble had finally had enough. He finally reached orgasm, his thin body trembling violently, sweat rolling down his face and bare chest, his sex throbbing as it painted the insides of Sheila's warm and inviting pussy.

For her part, Sheila was panting heavily, several orgasms having already been obtained, her arms about the sides of her head and disheveled hair as she stared wildly at the object of her deepest desires driving himself into her. When she told him to come inside her, she didn't really think he would do it. Yet he did and she was elated to feel his seed inside her, drooling slowly from her puckered lips as Dale slowly withdrew his deflating member.

Dale sighed as he lay down on the bed beside Sheila on his back, looking up at the dingy, popcorn ceiling. Still panting lightly, he didn't know what to make of what had occurred. One moment, the two exterminators were discussing the mating calls of various pests, the next they were locking lips on the rooftop. Tipsy on wine and burning with primal urges, Dale only thought twice of Nancy: once as he led Sheila down the stairwell toward the room his female companion had reserved, causing his steps to slow slightly. The second happened as he pushed a naked Sheila onto the bed, her legs opening, inviting him. He almost lost his nerve then but the guilt quickly washed away and he proceeded to perform oral sex on the moaning woman.

Now, however, Dale lay on the bed, Sheila's hand slowly rubbing his flat chest lovingly as her head snuggled into his shoulder, exhaustion now wooing her into a restful slumber.

"What have I done?" he thought to himself as he looked at the water-stained ceiling tiles of the room. "How could I have betrayed Nancy this way?"

But maybe the real question was "Why?" Why would he do such a thing to Nancy? Was she not the woman of his dreams? Was she not a doting wife? Was she not a loving mother to their son? A supporter of the household? Of course she was and yet…Sheila showed him that there could be so much more; someone that he could have so much in common with.

Yet he had already decided. He was going to let this be the end. As he slowly withdrew from the bed two hours later after unsuccessfully attempting sleep in Sheila's arms – someone who at once was so familiar and yet such a stranger – he walked to the bathroom and looked himself in the mirror. The signs of scratch marks about his neck and undoubtedly on his back, bite marks around his nipples, the smell of sex almost like an invisible aura surrounding him. Dale shook his head, started the shower head and stepped into the stream to try and wash some of it away.

By the time he had emerged from the shower and opened the bathroom door again, Sheila had awakened and was standing nude in front of him. Her eyes were tired but he also saw in her eyes that was there hours before; that hunger that drove her – no, them both – to consummate their sexual desire.

He was still wet from the shower, the towel wrapped about his waist. "Sheila! I uuuh…I was just getting clean. I think it's time for me to go home." Dale rambled nervously.

"No, Dale, not yet," Sheila said softly, the tiredness in her eyes fading away with each passing second, "Just give me a little more of your time. Please?" Sheila neared closer to Dale, her hands reaching toward him until her fingers grazed beneath his towel, breaching his hidden pubic area.

"No, Sheila, I can't," Dale stated unconvincingly as he fumbled with Sheila's roving hand, "I can't do that to Nancy again. I can't…" but Dale was silenced as Sheila neared so close to him that her naked breasts smashed against his bony torso, her lustful eyes staring wantonly into his.

Dale's towel dropped, the shower head came back on, and Sheila's moans of passion echoed in the small bathroom as Dale grunted hungrily, pushing her against the shower wall as he thrust deeply inside of her, making one final deposit of semen before departing.

"I love you, Dale." Sheila whispered into his ear when they both came in unison, her sex squeezing and twitching around Dale's throbbing member. Her orgasm was so intense that she accidentally drew blood when she bit his ear lobe. She could feel his seed fill her once again and she was glad. "I love you so fucking much."

Dale Gribble did not say a word as the water and small drops of blood streamed down the tub and into the drain.

An hour later, Dale was home. Nancy had waited up for him, or tried at least. She was sleeping on the couch, curled in an almost fetal position, a light blanket haphazardly covering her, an expression on her face clearly troubled as she was experiencing what could only be fitful dreams.

Dale didn't want to wake her but what he wanted was not granted as Nancy awoke with a start, sensing that her husband was home. She sat up quickly, trying to straighten her hair, tidy her nightgown, wipe the drool off her face. She was trying, in vain, to look as presentable as possible to this man that had every right to be un-Christian to her as she was to him.

"S-so how was the overnighter, sug?" Nancy's voice cracked through groggy sleep. She cleared her throat gingerly, cursing how unattractive she was likely coming across.

Dale's eyes, as usual, were hidden behind his favorite pair of pilot sunglasses. He was silent. His expression unreadable…except to her. When she looked at him and read that momentary silence, she knew everything she needed to know. Right then, Nancy's heart suffered a truly damaging pang of hurt.

"Oh, it was all right," Dale lied as he took off his oversized pesticide tanks and sat them across the wall then sat beside his wife, "We killed lots of critters. It was an extermination to end all exterminations!"

Nancy could smell the neutral scent of hotel soap on him. In all her years with John Redcorn, she had become a connoisseur of the various ways of covering up post-sex smells. Dale was, of course, an amateur at it.

"And did you learn anything from Sheila?" Nancy asked, taking care not to release any venom in her tone. "I'm sure she had lots to show you."

Dale grew deathly quiet at Nancy's suggestion but it was only for that blinking, yet telling moment before he regained himself. "Yeah, she gave me all sorts of tips about the techniques to use against the new breed of hissing roaches that are supposed to come here. Not to mention the…"

And that's when Nancy tuned out. It was too much. She was grateful that they were sitting in relative darkness because Dale could not see the tears forming in her eyes or watch them as they trickled down her face.

Eight months later…

Time had a way of erasing the past for many people. For Nancy Gribble, that was never truly enough. It took renewed dedication in combination with months of soul-searching for her to get over what had happened. Sure, Dale never did tell her what really happened. And she certainly couldn't prove it, regardless of his injured ear lobe or the scratch and bite marks she spied on his body. But she knew the truth and she chose to accept it.

"Poetic justice, right?" she thought to herself shortly after her realization. Her stress over the matter and her determination to not go running back to John Redcorn had caused her hair to start falling out but she soldiered on. She got a wig, got a decent pay raise, and was well on her way to finally regaining her focus. She decided to treat herself one brisk December day by going to a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. She had a distinct craving for a hot coffee with extra sugar and cream.

"Nancy? Nancy Gribble?" a woman's distant voice called out to her from behind. Nancy turned with a warm smile that all but vanished when she set her eyes upon the source of her hail.

"Why…if it isn't Sheila!" Nancy beamed with enormous effort as she saw the woman's face from a distance. "How are you?" she called, wanting so badly instead to rush away or, better yet, rush into the woman and pummel her to the ground. Instead, she patiently waited as the woman, clad in a loose fitting top and shapely leggings made her way toward her.

"Oh I'm fine. It's so good to see you!" Sheila replied as she made her way over, her purse seemingly putting her off-balance as she waddled briskly toward the blonde. Nancy realized instantly that something was not right. In fact, something was terribly wrong. And as Sheila closed the gap between them, Nancy Hicks-Gribble realized that…

"Oh, sug, you're PREGNANT?!" Nancy said with a mixture of feigned excitement, happiness and absolute dread. With all her might, the woman tried to conjure an expression of genuine joy but she was ever mindful that it was probably one of awkward, phony elation and bewilderment.

"Yes, I am," Sheila sighed as she caressed her bulging belly lovingly. "Just a happy miracle. Bit of an accident, mind you, but happy nonetheless."

"How far along?" Nancy asked, knowing full well the answer.

"Eight." Sheila beamed happily.

"That's wonderful, sug. You look about fit to burst." If there was ever any doubt, this erased it in her mind and brought her fears rising to the surface once again.

"Umm, Nancy? How's Dale?" Sheila asked suddenly. Nancy looked at the vibrant, beautiful woman, her hands still on her belly. "I haven't spoken to him since the overnighter all those months back. Is he doing all right?"

Nancy wanted to slap the bitch. "Dale? Well he's doing all right, sug. Same ol' Dale, you know? Doing his own thing and me just trying to keep up." Nancy forced another smile on her face although it faltered in light of her crushing emotions.

"Well that's good. Say, if you don't mind, could you give him my number?" Sheila said as she reached in her purse for her card. Nancy's fear hit its peak.

"Well, I um…sug, I mean, well…" Nancy spluttered but Sheila seemed to not hear or care and produced a small white card from her unassuming black purse. And Nancy took it.

"Just tell him…well, tell him I'd really like to talk with him again." Sheila said, a hint of what seemed like sadness coloring her voice.

Nancy looked at the card, mumbling a good-bye as the pregnant woman walked off. She looked at the card and realized that everything had come full circle; that her phony little life of attempted perfection, of pretending what Dale did – what she did – was not going to come crashing around them eventually.

She skipped her coffee on that day, instead heading back to work, tucking the card safely into her purse. She thought about a lot of things the rest of that evening and as she prepared to leave, saying her farewells to her co-workers for the day, she pulled out the card again and stared at it. It was the catalyst that would change everything. Sheila knew it and Nancy did too.

"Eight months." Nancy murmured to herself as she looked at the card then tore it in her hands, from halves to fourths, then from fourths to eighths, then tossing the tattered bits into the nearest wastebasket.

These things – these dark, terrible, and destructive secrets – had a way of coming out eventually. But Nancy Hicks-Gribble would be damned if they would come from her.