The Cheat (Contains strong language, sexual references, drug references)



Excerpt from The Cheat

By Eve Rabi 

July 1998

I was told by friends that if you cheat on your wife, the appropriate guilt-appeasing flowers are roses. A dozen, long-stemmed.

I stood at the airport with roses – two dozen.

In twenty-five words or less: I was on ‘business trip’, she was available, I was shit-faced, she was stacked, I was flattered, she was relentless in her pursuit and…now this is a big ‘AND’ …we were in Vegas.

Been married for six years and my wife was always tired. Could only manage sex once a week. Just thinking about that made me bitter and I guess I felt conjugally deprived.

How many words so far? Oh well, who the fuck cares?

Moving on – my wife was picking me up from the airport and bringing along my two beautiful little girls. I was, as can be expected, nervous and anxious and more worried about the guilt showing on my face, than about breaking my marriage vows.

Now, before you go all harsh and judgmental on me and call me a prick, I’ll tell you this much – I am an arrogant prick.

I don’t try to be, I’m just wired that way.

Now that you know my ABC, let’s move on, shall we?

Okay, I love my wife, I really do. I only cheated on her because of opportunity. I read somewhere that most men cheat, not because they want to, but because of opportunity that lands on their lap. And last night, opportunity was a sexy, long-haired, blonde called Sinead, who was just about every guy’s fantasy and being the human that I was, I guess I erred – succumbed to temptation.

Did I regret it? Let me think. Honestly? Nope.

Hey, I did say honestly. Why didn’t I regret it? I don’t know. Perhaps, it was because …I liked it far too much to be bothered by my conscience, or the lack of it thereof? Told you I was arrogant bastard.

Armed with my guilt-appeasing roses, I waited for Angelina, my wife, (whom I call Angel) and my two daughters. Whenever I return from business trips, I usually catch a cab back home, but today, I was feeling guilty mainly because, I was guilty; so for the first time since I had kids, I accepted Angel’s offer to pick me up from the airport.

As I waited at the pick-up zone, my mind drifted back to Sinead, my unrestrained, unreserved, uninhibited and lusty partner in crime last night.


Although I showered before she and I parted company this morning, I could still smell her perfume and it added to my uneasiness. I clutched the roses tighter and willed myself to regret my actions.

Problem was, the memories of my weekend of sin weren’t bad. In fact, some of them were darned good. Okay, amazing. So amazing, that they were responsible for the contented smile across my face, which I now struggled to conceal.

Sinead was extremely flexible, amazingly agile and particularly nimble in the sack and I can’t help but think that she would be artistic with a hula hoop, if you know what I mean.

When I first spotted her, I thought she was hot, like all the guys around me thought, I’m sure. Small waist, big ass, big tits, child-bearing lips–what more could a guy ask for? Did I mention that I was human? At first, I must admit, I was just flattered when she paid me any attention. Flattered because, there were so many good looking, young guys at the club, yet Sinead, who was by far the hottest chick at the club, had me in her cross-hairs. Me, a thirty-five-year-old, overworked attorney, with a receding hairline, slight pot belly, a wife who couldn’t care if she never had sex again for the rest of her life and two kids under the age of four?

Hell, not only was I astonished, but I was even grateful that a woman would find me interesting at this stage in my life and pursue me.

Still, when she came onto me, I somehow managed to keep it together and resisted her the first night. Like the gentleman that I was, (I may be an arrogant prick but I’m a true gentleman.) I even walked her to her hotel room.

Okay, so I enjoyed her tongue in my mouth when I said goodnight. But I have to tell you, it was hard. Especially, since we were booked in at the same hotel. I kept thinking about her probing tongue, the thrust of her double-Ds against my chest, the way her hips locked with mine…if I wasn’t so plastered, I’m sure I would have been up all night just thinking about it.

The next day, we bumped into her and her friend, and when I introduced her to my work colleagues, one of my bosses immediately invited her and her equally attractive and uninhibited friend to party with us.

After a hard day of excessive boozing, we hit the club again for some serious partying and drinking. We were celebrating our win, the coveted Blakeley and Thompson account, worth more than ten million dollars and I, Gabriel Sloan, was the one responsible for that coup. Tonight, I was the star quarterback and I reveled in it, accepting all the congratulatory back slaps and high fives that came my way. An ego rush of gigantic proportion, and I loved it.

Sinead never left my side, never asked awkward questions, (like whether I was married) and by the end of the evening, made it clear she was going to fuck me that night, either in or out of my bed. I smiled and tried to tell myself that it wasn’t going to happen but, and that’s a big ‘BUT’; I waited all evening in anticipation. When exactly was it going to take place and dare I hope it would be out of my bed?

She didn’t actually say when and that was a good thing, ’cause knowing me, I was the type to chicken out. As cocky as I was, I was a bit slow when it came to women. Never had a problem getting them, but I prefer to choose, chase and nail. In that order.

In the past, when women chased me, I, more often than not, ran.

Oh, Sinead hinted, implied and touched her way through things. Her stroking and kneading under the table and her firm, bare thigh glued to mine left me a massive hard-on. Her body was warm and wanton and her breath around my earlobe drove me wild. That, coupled with the rush of winning the account and the booze gave me an all-time high.

Don’t misunderstand me; she wasn’t skanky or over the top or like some of bunnies you find at Hef’s. In fact, she was sweet and playful and kittenish and not in the least bit bothered by my wedding ring, which I kept on all the time, I must add. When she suggested we refrain from disclosing personal details about ourselves to each other, it served only to heighten the sexual thrill and I found myself grinning like the jackass I was and nodding vigorously, like one of those toy dogs you find on the back of cars that nod constantly with the motion of the car.

“Just call me Sin,” she said prettily. “Short for Sinead.”

“Just call me drunk,” I evened, “Short for very drunk.”

She laughed. I liked that about her. She laughed all the time.

My wife Angel liked to fuck in the dark or with the lights turned down really low, mainly because I think she had body issues. Boring! Not Sinead, she wanted the lights on when she slowly peeled off her clothes and when she skillfully stroked my erection and made a Popsicle out of me. There was so much of tension in my sexual vault after two days of innuendoes that I exploded within three minutes but…. I was back for an encore, I tell you. Was I proud I could deliver!

And she knew her stuff too. “Are you game for Amyl Nitrate?” she whispered, at the height of pleasure.

“Sure,” I huffed. “Bring her in. The more the merrier.” (Hey, I had been married for six years – how was I supposed to know about Amy Nitrate and stuff. I mean Amyl.)

She furrowed her pretty brow at me, then smiled at my ignorance and gave me a whiff of it in a tiny vial she got from God knows where. Now, don’t you try this at home folks, ’cause it’s not good for your heart, but it took the word orgasm to a new level and she made me scream.

Something I’ve never done. I screamed like a girl.

As for me pleasing her; I wish I wasn’t so drunk, then maybe I could have really reciprocated, but I did my fair share of ramming at the end, which she seemed to like, ’cause she moaned so loudly, I worried the entire hotel would think it was some kind of low-keyed fire-drill, even though it really turned me on. Not the soft delicate sighs that Angel lets out when I went down on her, but loud, expressive, out of control cries of unabashed pleasure. A gigantic ego rush for a drunken executive. Actually three times! Yeah, even I was surprised, ’cause, as much as it pains me to admit it, I’m no stud. Not anymore.


Parting was brief and hurried, ’cause both of us had flights to catch. I was tired from lack of sleep, really hung over and in desperate need of some greasy airport food but, there was no time if I wanted to catch my flight.

As I boarded the plane, I thought of Angel for the first time since I was with Sin and felt a little guilty. That’s when I dialed her number and talked to her for a while.

Angel was late picking me up, so I hung around and people-watched. Then, across the road, I spotted Angel and the other two loves of my life; my two beautiful daughters,

two-year-old Sydney and four-year-old Indiana. I smiled and braced myself for the avalanche of hugs and kisses that usually came my way. I was looking forward to holding Angel again and kissing her and making up for all the shit I did last night. As I watched her approach, I realized just how much I loved her. Cheating had nothing to do with my love for her. Anyway, she was never going to find out so…I would just drop it and never think about it again.

Suddenly, I looked to the side and there was Sin, with girlfriend. No wonder I could still smell her perfume, she was just a few feet away from me!

“Heeeey!” she said, smiling prettily and looking as hot as ever in a tight blue, corset-type top and faded jeans that made her ass talk and made me wonder if I could have gone four rounds instead of three.

“Hey,” I mouthed, glancing at Angel, then back at Sin. “What you’re doing here?”

She jerked her lovely head towards the taxis. “Catching a cab.”

I nodded.

She followed my eyes to Angel and my kids. “Your family?”

I nodded sheepishly, suddenly wishing that Angel had dressed a little sexier. She wore a pink cardigan, a light pink top, casual jeans, black pumps and her hair was in a ponytail. Next to Sin, Angel looked frumpy, like a mother of two kids, and frankly, I was a little embarrassed.

“Nice,” she said lightly. “Well, here’s my ride. Tata!”

I breathe a sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to clash with Angel.

“Take care,” I said.

“Hope she likes the roses,” she flung over her shoulder as she and her girlfriend got into the cab and rattled off an address to the driver. I watched her fasten her seat belt as she talked to her friend. Then, to my surprise, she looked up at me and motioned me over. I nervously glanced at Angel who was fast approaching, then at Sin, panic enveloping me.

But Sin flexed her index finger at me and I felt somewhat obliged to go to her so I hurried over to the cab window.

“What is it?” I whispered, feeling my pants getting tighter around my crotch.

She put her painted lips really close to my ear. I was so sure she was going to lick it. “You might want to get yourself checked out,” she whispered.

I looked at her in confusion. “Wha …?”

“I…I’m HIV positive.”


“Sorry, I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way,” she said in a sincere voice. “It just happened. I should have told you, but I guess I got carried away. I’m sor …”

“You’re fucking with me, right?” I demanded hoarsely, hoping to God she would smile and tell me to look at the hidden camera ’cause I was being punked.

She shook her head from side-to-side and I thought – this is what it feels like to fall from the top of The Empire State Building.

“H…HIV…?” I stammered my mouth, suddenly dry as the Sahara. That’s not AIDS, right? Shit! I didn’t know much about the virus. I’m a corporate attorney for Christ sakes!

With a grim look, she tugged at her hair and to my absolute horror, her entire hair moved to reveal total baldness. She was wearing a wig. Before I could stop myself, I recoiled in revulsion and disgust.

For a moment, hurt registered in her eyes. Then she rolled up her window and the cab driver drove off.

I should have run after her and demanded she tell more, but I just stood frozen as the car disappeared from sight. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” The sound of my daughter’s voices forced me out of my catatonic state.

Forcing myself to smile mechanically, I accepted all their hugs. This distraction afforded me the opportunity to somewhat regain my composure.

Angel walked up to me and hugged me. “They’re beautiful!” she cried as she took the roses from me. When she tried to kiss me, I jerked my head so that her kiss landed somewhere between my ear and lips. I didn’t want to kiss my darling wife if I had a virus.

“What wrong, Gabe?” she asked, her hazel eyes darting all over my face.

I shook my head and waved dismissively.

“You look pale, honey.” Her frown deepened. “You okay?”

Am I okay? What a question.

I scanned my brain to find something to say. “I…I think I picked up on of those…um…” The shock of everything was too much. My brain froze and I just went blank and looked dumbly at my wife. This was most unusual behavior on my part and Angel was now worried.

She reached up and touched my forehead. “You have a temperature.”

I looked at her in horror. So quickly? Could the virus be attacking me already? Fuck!

It was enough to freak me out. “I do feel really ill, Angel,” I murmured and absentmindedly wiped my forehead.

“Poor baby,” Angel said gently as she took my hand in hers. I immediately shrugged off her hand. There was no way I wanted to contaminate my beautiful and innocent Angel, love of my life and mother of my children by holding her hand.

Startled at my behavior, she stared at me.

“Better not touch,” I said quickly. “I don’t want to give whatever I got to you, baby.”

She nodded understandingly. Did I really say she looked frumpy and plain? I was so wrong. She looked lovely and caring and concerned and… like my wife.

 “Probably the water,” she mused. “Kids, give daddy some space. He’s not well today.”

My girls looked at me, disappointment in their eyes.

“No!” I said quickly, when I see their crestfallen faces. I could take care of things later. “At least, let me get my hug, huh?”

“We already gave you hugs daddy,” Indiana said.

“We aldeddy dave you huds,” Sydney echoed.

“Naha!” I said, crouching again. “I didn’t feel anything. If I don’t get a huge hug by the time I count to say…one; I’m gonna cry like a baby. “One…”

Being the darlings that they were, they melted into me and hugged me for dear life, then took turns to look at my eyes to look for signs of tears. I loved them so much.

Angel looked down at us and smiled.

I stood up and hugged her again. “It’s good to be back, sweetie,” I said and kissed her hair. “I love you.”

“I missed you, Gabe,” she said as she rested her head on my chest.

The ride home was a boxed hell and I was struggling to wrap my brain around things, which I desperately needed to do right now. Angel talked non-stop about – I don’t know – I paid no attention to what she was saying.

Finally, I closed my eyes and lay back on my seat and she stopped, zipped up.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” I murmured from time-to-time, meaning it.

Unused to seeing me like this, she tried to get me to a doctor, but I refused. All I wanted to do was get out of the car and for a while, go somewhere where I could be alone with my tumultuous thoughts.

My mind drifted back to my fatal rendezvous with Sinead. How could I have missed the wig? Why didn’t I look before I leapt? Now everything about last night, took on a sinister undertone. Did she really fancy me or was I just easy meat? Easy meat I’m sure. Easy and dumb meat for that matter. Was it intentional? Of course! Was she lying? Without a doubt. I could sue the bitch for millions, I reckoned. Yeah, I could. If she had millions.

But why didn’t she have any of those lesions on her skin, like Tom Hanks in Philadelphia? Maybe it’s because, being the dumbass I was, I was too busy looking at her tits and ass and didn’t look at other less important body parts.

Did we use a condom? I recall using them. But I also recall that with all the agility, it did slip out once. Fuck! Sweat dripped down the back of my shirt. How the hell do I tell Angel I cheated on her? How do I tell my wife that I cheated on her and got a deadly virus in the process? Would she believe it was my first time I ever cheated? I hung my head in despair. Gabriel Sloan, what the fuck have you done this time?

Charlie! God, I need to talk to Charlie. He’s my older brother and someone I could talk to. Someone I could trust. Charlie was not as educated as I was, but he always had the answer. My parents died when we were young and Charlie became both mother and father to me, putting me through law school by holding down three jobs. I owe him everything. He’s going to be so disappointed to learn I am dying. Damn, that hurt so much.

The moment we arrived home, I mumbled something about a shower and escaped to the bathroom where I could be alone with my thoughts and even manage a call to Charlie.

I stripped, turned on the taps but didn’t enter the shower. Instead, I called Charlie. He answered on the first ring and I came straight to the point. “I need to talk to you, Charlie.”

Maybe it was something in my voice, but he immediately agreed, sounding concerned.

I didn’t want to have to tell Angel I was leaving the house; I had just returned from a business trip and needed to spend time with my family, so we arranged for Charlie to call and ask for me to come over to help out with a problem.

Half an hour later, he called and talked to Angel.

“Gabe!” Angel shouted. “Charlie wants to know if you can come over. Says he needs your help.”

“Not today,” I shouted back. “Tell him I just got home and I want to spend time with you guys.”

Angel walked over, stood in the doorway and looked at me, a worried look on her lovely face.

“What?” I asked.

“Gabe, I think Charlie might need you.”

“But I just got home, Angel. I need to spend time with you guys.”

After staring at me for a few moments, she said, “Go Gabe. He wouldn’t call if he didn’t need you.”

With an exaggerated sigh, I poured myself a drink, took two aspirins, got dressed and left my house. 

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About Eve Rabi Author

EVE RABI is the author of 29 romantic crime & suspense thrillers, 5 screenplays and a number of short stories in the process of being published. She is known for her kick-ass leading ladies, her sense of humor and her no-holes barred love stories. To quote an Amazon reviewer: “Eve Rabi is a 5 star general. Different, excellent, unputdownable. Eve Rabi is the lady for now and the Future.” For more info on Eve Rabi's books, visit

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