Faux

The woman began to sing in a low, mournful tone, "I'm through with love, I'll never fall again..." *

Andrea felt herself strangely drawn to this woman, something about the way she moved, perhaps the way she sang, but something disturbed her. Crossing her legs, she felt a warm wetness in her panties and in spite of the warmth in the club, she felt her nipples stand at attention.

"...Said adieu to love, don't ever call again..." *

Looking the performer over, something suddenly grabbed Andrea... the bra. She looked closer, recognizing the lace frill at the edge. Quickly taking a big gulp of her martini, she leaned forward realizing she was watching her husband's lover sing.

"...For I must love you or no one..."

"How appropriate," Andrea thought, "she's singing "I'm Through with Love" while fucking my husband." Enraged now, she began looking over the crowd, their faces lit only by the light reflected off of Miss Marilyn.

Admittedly, the woman was alluring and certainly the crowd of people was enthralled by the woman's husky voice. Andrea looked at face after face of adoring fans, but never spotted her husband. Glancing back toward the stage she tried to see if perhaps he was watching from back stage, peeking through the curtains.

"...Goodbye to spring and all that it meant to me..." *

Marilyn turned slightly, walking a few steps to the right and something caught Andrea's eye. Although the light sparkled off the sheer stockings she wore, there was an odd dark spot on the woman's calf, a birthmark or something. Andrea grabbed the arms to her chair to steady herself. Feeling faint, she took deep breaths as she felt a warm flush roll over her face.

Feeling like she had been kissed, Andrea realized she was not watching her husband's lover, she was watching her husband. Looking into the face, the eyes, she could see it now. The jaw was just a bit too pronounced for a woman, the legs just a bit too muscular, the breasts just a bit out of proportion.