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"You're late." Accusatory.
"I, uh . . ."
"It doesn't matter. Take off your clothes."
"What?"
"Take off your clothes. Or leave."
"Good bye, asshole." Lucy turned to leave.
"Wait, Lucy," said Anne. "Please stay. He won't touch you, I promise. But it's too weird if you just sit there and watch with all your clothes on."
"That's right, Lucy," he said, with a hint of disdain, of sarcasm, "I promise not to touch you. But you look at us, we look at you. That's the deal."
"Please, Lucy."
Lucy stood at the entrance hall, looking uncertainly first at the door, then back to the two faces across the room. <This is too much. It's not cheating if he doesn't touch you. I can't just strip in front of Anne. She's naked in front of you now. I didn't shave my legs today. How many chances will you ever get like this?> She turned her back to them and pulled her shirt out of her waistband. Slowly she crossed her arms in front of her and grasped the bottom of the shirt. Up and off it went. Her bra fastened in the front. It quickly joined the shirt on the floor. With her thumbs under both waistbands, panties and shorts slid together to the floor. Two small backward steps out of her sandals and she was bare. Instinctively, one arm moved across her breasts while the other hand covered her mons. She heard the man snigger behind her. Standing to her full five foot six, Lucy put her arms at her sides and turned around.
"Satisfied?"
"Lovely." A hint of worldly wise amusement in his voice. Then commanding, "Go sit in the other chair." It was close to the one they occupied, separated by a few feet.
Summoning her will, Lucy walked proudly across the room, chin up and chest out. She stared directly into his eyes, and for the first few steps felt she could stare him down this time. The feeling didn't last. His eyes held hers the length of the room, but she had to look away. Flick to his cock, erect in his lap. Flick to Anne's face, looking back at Lucy over her shoulder, hands still on his thighs, her eyes checking out Lucy's body. Flick to his eyes again. Still right on hers. By the time Lucy reached the chair, she knew he planned on having her. She knew it with certainty. The knowledge made her nipples grow erect and she began to lubricate. He wanted to make love to her. <No, to *fuck* her!> She didn't know if she could stop him. She was glad when she reached the chair, glad to have a reason to turn away. She sat.
The man put his hand on the back of Anne's head and loosely gathered a handful of her hair as he pushed her down toward his lap. His eyes were on Lucy's. Lucy's eyes were on his erection. And the lips about to engulf it. Her eyes widened as his hand kept pushing Anne down until Lucy was sure Anne would choke. But Anne's eyes were closed and she showed no sign of discomfort. He pulled her head up until only the tip was between her lips, and then slowly down again.
"She really likes you to watch, you know," he said conversationally, as if it were quite normal for him to have his penis in the mouth of a fortyish blonde suburban housewife. Down and up. "Look at her hands." Down and up. Lucy saw that her hands were no longer on his thighs. She fleetingly wondered why she hadn't noticed them leaving. One of Anne's hands now gently pinched her right nipple. The other was sliding between her legs.
"Anne swallows it all when I come in her mouth." Down and up. "Do you swallow your husband's come, Lucy?" Down and up.
Lucy's shook her head a tiny bit. No.
"Well, you'll swallow for me when the time comes." It was not a question. Down and up.
"I like to watch too, Lucy," he said. Down and up. "Show me how you would like me to touch your breasts." Down and up.
As if by a mind of their own, Lucy's hands moved to her breasts. Keeping her eyes on Anne's mouth moving up and down, Lucy's finger tips glided over the whole of her breasts, just barely touching, everywhere except the nipples. She started to trace a path around each breast, a path that slowly spiraled in toward her nipples. As the finger tips reached the edge of her small areolae, she looked up into his eyes. With a shudder of desire, she closed all five fingers of each hand around her nipples, still just barely touching, and pulled each nipple up ever so slightly.
The sudden motion of his hand in Anne's hair pulling her completely off his cock pulled Lucy's eyes to the other chair. Lucy's hands froze on her breasts in mid-caress as he stood.
"I think it's time to let Anne come. Don't you, Lucy?" the deep voice inquired. "How would you like to see her fucked tonight?"
"Wwwhat do you mmmean?" Lucy stammered.
"I mean it's your choice tonight, Lucy. Missionary, sidesaddle, whatever you want. I'll take her ass if you tell me, Lucy." Anne's eyes widened at that last and her head jerked around to glare at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but Lucy's voice intervened.
"God no! Doggy. Do her doggy style. But not in her ass. Please?"
"You heard the lady, Anne. Kneel in front of Lucy. Hands and knees."
Anne's face was inches from Lucy's knees, looking down at the rug. The hair on the top of her head almost touched Lucy. The man knelt behind Anne and his hand again closed in that hair. He gently pulled her face up to look at Lucy. Anne's face was blushing red. The man suddenly thrust his hips forward. Anne's breath puffed out, blowing on Lucy's knees, and her eyes widened. He let go of Anne's hair, but her head stayed up, looking at Lucy. The man continued to thrust in and out, but slowly now.
It was deja vu. Again, in Lucy's mind the same litany as before: <He's fucking her. He's fucking her right in front of me. He's fucking her so close that I could touch them if I wanted to. He's fucking Anne right in front of me and she's letting him!>
Without conscious thought, her left hand moved to her left breast and pushed it from the side, then cupped it, the thumb moving to the nipple. Her right hand slid between her closed thighs to press gently on the closed lips of her sex.
"Open your legs, Lucy." The man continued to thrust very slowly.
Lucy shook her head no.
"You watch us, we watch you. That's the deal. Open your legs, Lucy."
"Please, Lucy," Anne whispered.
With a flush of shame and a shudder of excitement, Lucy closed her eyes and opened her legs.
"Put them over the arms of the chair, Lucy."
Shaking again with shame and arousal, she did. She opened her eyes and looked down. Her hand was still at the top of her slit, but her lips, her slick protruding lips, were uncovered, flaunted, inches from Anne's face, close enough for HIM to touch if he reached out. Her hand began to move up and down. The man began to thrust harder. Lucy shook on the brink of orgasm, watching her hand move, watching as each hard thrust pushed Anne's face a little closer to that hand.
His voice stopped her short of orgasm, drawing her eyes to his. His eyes seemed to increase in intensity as he spoke. "Take your fingers away, Lucy. Put them in your mouth." Still caught in his eyes, she slowly tasted herself on her fingers. She felt the tongue on her vagina then. She started to panic. <I'm not gay> her mind screamed. <Why am I pushing my sex into a woman's tongue. I AM NOT A LESBIAN!> Then, as her excitement continued to build, she knew. It might be Anne's tongue, but Lucy was reacting to HIM. Lucy closed her eyes and began the climb to release, but suddenly the tongue faltered and then it was not there at all. She didn't have to hear the little hiccups to know why when she saw Anne's face. Watching Anne orgasm increased her own need.
Still thrusting in Anne to that slow rhythm, he reached out and took Lucy's hand in his. Her eyes widened with fear. He had promised not to touch her. But all he did was put Lucy's hand on the back of Anne's head and then he withdrew. With a little moan, Lucy closed her eyes, ashamed that she wanted Anne's tongue so badly. Ashamed, but close to release. She pulled Anne forward, directing her to her clitoris again. Lucy closed her eyes and put her head back.
"Lucy, look at me."
Stiffly, muscles tense under the influence of Anne's fluttering stimulation, Lucy turned to the sound and saw his erection close, very close, to her face. Jumping slightly with his pulse, slick with Anne's lubrication. Approaching the edge, the point of no return on her orgasm, Lucy stared.
The deep, self-assured voice again. "Lean forward, Lucy. Take me in your mouth."
And suddenly that was just what Lucy needed, to have HIS cock, to taste HIM. Her hand came up and encircled his base. She leaned forward. She was sticking her tongue out to barely touch the tip, moving her hand up the shaft at the same time, when the cock in her hand stiffened even more, and she felt the first pulse of his come hit her lips. She licked and swallowed reflexively, pushing his penis down as she threw her head back and moaned out her ecstasy in response to Anne's tongue forcing her over the edge to orgasm. Arching and bucking her hips into Anne's face, she didn't feel the semen that hit her neck and her breast. Finally, convulsively, she pushed Anne away and slumped in the chair.
Dazed by the intensity of her orgasm, she sat motionless for a timeless interval. When she finally gathered herself, she was alone in the room. She walked like an automaton to the entrance hall and put on her clothes, trying not to think. As she sat motionless in the driver's seat, she couldn't keep her thoughts in check any longer. <Oh God, what have I done? I've cheated on Fergus. This time I did do something, I touched HIS cock. I swallowed his come. I've committed adultery. Will Fergus forgive me? What if he wants a divorce? What about the kids? What am I to do?> Sitting in the driver's seat, her mind in turmoil, she slumped forward and cried.
Fergus was asleep when Lucy got home. She took a shower in the children's bathroom so as not to wake him. He groaned softly and turned toward her when she slipped into bed. His arm moved and he rested his hand lightly on her hip. Then his breathing resumed slow regularity. She laid motionless on the bed, his hand burning her like a hot iron, until sleep finally overtook her chaotic thoughts.
BRRRRRNNNNNG. Lucy opened her eyes blearily. She didn't have to look to know that Fergus was not in the bed. BRRRRRNNNNNG. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited, hoping someone else would answer. BRRRRRNNNNNG. Giving up, she lifted the handset to her ear.
"Lucy?" said Anne.
"I'm not coming back, Anne. I'll talk to you later," said Lucy, wearily.
"Wait Lucy, he's gone for the day. I need to talk, just the two of us. Can I come over?"
Lucy shuddered in revulsion. She didn't want Anne in her house right now. "Not now," she said. "I'll meet you for lunch at the Trellis. One o'clock."
"Oh Lucy, thanks," said Anne with relief. "See you there."
Stumbling to the bathroom, Lucy noticed it was already almost ten. Fergus must have taken care of the kids again this morning, letting her sleep in again. She thought to herself that she should be grateful to have the extra time to decide what to say to him, but she simply couldn't muster the energy to think. She felt like she had a hangover, although she hadn't had that much to drink the night before. She palmed a couple of aspirins into her mouth and washed them down with water from the sink. Then she ran her bath.
Forty-five minutes later, she emerged, washed but not fresh. Despite the fact that she knew it would do no good, she felt as if she should return to the bath. Instead she brushed her teeth again.
At one o'clock, she was sitting on the terrace at the Trellis, waiting for Anne. She had no distinct memories of how she got there, having dressed and driven with little conscious thought. She pushed her glass of white wine back and forth, and nibbled out of habit rather than hunger on the Irish soda bread. Five minutes later, Anne arrived.
Anne sat opposite Lucy at the table. As their eyes met, Anne's face turned red. Lucy felt her own face heat up. Anne spoke tentatively, "Hi, Lucy. Are we still friends?"
"Of course we are, Anne, but I need to know what's going on."
Just then, the waiter arrived, and the intensity of the moment was shattered by his query as to whether Anne wanted a drink. The two friends embraced the mundane task of ordering as a welcome delay before they returned to face their uncertainties and wariness of each other. When he had gone, Anne spoke.
"You sort of got caught up with me and my lover," said Anne.
"But you and Charles . . ."
"I love Charles, Lucy. This was just something that got out of hand. I don't want to hurt Charles. I just couldn't stop myself."
"Is he blackmailing you? Threatening you? I've never seen you like that."
"It is kinda different from the 'Let's make Anne chairman of the fundraiser' image, isn't it," Anne smiled. "I think that's why it was so seductive. With Wade, he takes charge. He commands me, no discussion, nothing to think about. I can do things with him that I don't think I could do with Charles because I don't have to worry what he will think of me. . . . Like with you." The last was delivered in a very small voice.
"Oh God, Anne," said Lucy, distressed, "are we gay somehow?" Lucy's face got red again. "I came when you were . . . you know." An even smaller voice. "I don't think so, Lucy. It's him. It's Wade. He makes me want to give myself to him, makes me want what he wants. You felt it too, didn't you?"
"God, yes! I felt him like a hand in my brain, pushing me. And I wanted to be pushed. I thought I was going crazy!"
"I'm sorry I got you into this," said Anne, head down. "It was a mistake. He's going to break it off. I guess he's beginning to get bored with me. But I could hear that old fascination in his voice when he called out to you. I just wanted to make it last a little longer. I'm sorry."
"I don't blame you, Anne. Nobody made me stay. I hate to admit it, but I wanted to stay. I wanted to see. I wanted you to see. I've never done anything wild in my life."
Lucy turned her head from Anne, looked away, and spoke, "That's what makes me feel so bad. I chose to do it. I betrayed Fergus' trust. But I'm afraid I'd do worse, if I go back. I won't, you know? Watch again, I mean."
"I didn't think you would, Lucy. That's not why I had to talk to you. I have to know if you are going to tell Fergus. He and Charles are too close. I don't want Charles to find out from Fergus. I'd rather tell him myself, if I have to."
Lucy twisted the rings in circles around her left ring finger. "I have to tell him, Anne. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I just hope he'll forgive me."
"Can you wait until Saturday? Please? Wade will be gone forever Saturday afternoon, and I can tell Charles when he gets back that night. I don't want to have to tell him over the phone. Please?"
"OK, Saturday." Lucy was surprised at how much relief she felt at having a reason to delay telling Fergus. She knew it was a mistake, but it was so much easier to delay.
"Don't you worry about AIDS, Anne? And what if he tells people? Do you trust him?"
"I do trust him, Lucy. I trust him to be just who he is. He's too careful to be a big AIDS risk. He's a health nut. Besides, I got myself tested a few months after he first took me. Negative. And I don't think he'll ever tell. He's an arrogant, infuriating, egotistical jerk, but he sees himself as honorable. It's always a risk, but I think this one is small."
"Well, I think you are fooling yourself, but it's your life. You don't sound too sad that he's leaving you."
"I'll miss the sex, the intensity, but I don't love him. He took me on some kind of roller coaster ride inside, but it wasn't the one I had when Charles and I first fell in love. This was dark, sort of dangerous feeling. But it's mostly worn off. It was exciting, but I'm not sad that it's almost over."
"Would he really have tried to take you in your rear?" Lucy whispered, face red again.
"We did that once," whispered Anne, blushing in return, "and I made him use a condom that time. But I told him never again."
"What was it like? I've never done it?" asked Lucy, curious.
"Well, he used lots of lubrication, so it didn't hurt too much, just when he was pushing in. After I got used to it, it just felt strange, like I had to go or something. Full, like."
"Did you orgasm?"
"Yes," said Anne, blushing even more deeply, "but not from that. He made me play with myself while he did it."
The waiter arrived with food, occasioning a temporary end to conversation, and then departed. Both were relieved to have successfully dealt with their secret, and the talk reverted to their norm for the rest of the meal. In due course, Lucy was off to pick up her kids from day camp again, feeling much lighter in spirit than she had before.
The lightness of spirit lasted until Fergus threw open the door shouted his hellos. As Lucy gave him a dutiful kiss, she knew she couldn't wait until Saturday to tell Fergus. The sick feeling of guilt inside wouldn't let her. Overshadowed by dread, she sleepwalked through her evening routines until it was time for bed.
When she emerged from the bathroom, teeth brushed yet again, Fergus was sitting up against the headboard, half under the covers. He turned out the light as soon as she slid in. She felt his arm slip under her, pull her against his side. From the dark, his voice came, "Wanna tell me about it?"
"What do you . . . ," Lucy started in automatic denial, then paused, and sobbed, "Oh, Fergus, I"m so ashamed. Please don't hate me. . ."
"Whoa, Lucy. I'll never hate you. Now tell me what's wrong."
Slowly, haltingly, the events at Anne's house came out. All except the tongue touch to his erection and the semen on her lips that she had licked and swallowed. She just couldn't bear to tell Fergus that. She rarely took Fergus in her mouth, even less frequently let him finish there, and she never swallowed. She just couldn't tell him she'd started to do it with another man, had almost taken him into her mouth. That she had had HIS semen on her tongue, her neck, her breasts.
"Please don't hate me, Fergus. I love you. I don't want to lose you. Please forgive me."
"You are stuck with me, Lucy. I love you too. I'll never hate you."
"But can you forgive what I've done?"
"Hmmm, that would be watching Anne, getting pawed by surprise, letting Anne make you come, and putting your hand on his erection," said Fergus. "Just terrible. Shoot, woman, if that's the worst you do in your life, you'll be a saint. But I do want to know why."
"I truly don't know," said Lucy. "I was taken by surprise at first. It was nasty, dirty. I couldn't imagine letting anyone watch. I had never done anything like that in my life."
"That's the first time," said Fergus, "but you went back."
"I wasn't going to. But I just got to thinking that I had never done anything wild, you know, really wild, in my life. My mind was telling me I'd never have another chance. I'm sorry, Fergus, I don't even know why it mattered. I'm happy with you. I don't know why I thought I needed to do it at all."
"So that was the reason for that episode in the den?"
"Yes," said Lucy in a small voice.
"Did you enjoy being with Anne? Do you want to do it again?"
"No," mumbled Lucy, blushing, "I'm not interested in women."
"Then why?"
"It was him. I don't know how to explain. His eyes, the way he looks at me. It's like my will drained away. Somehow he made me want it. He's scary . . . no, dangerous. Anne feels it too."
"What does he look like?"
"He reminds me an older Gabriel Byrne. Dissolute or something. Except the eyes. The eyes are the same . . . dark and deep."
"How big is he. Is he bigger than me?"
"No, you're taller, and he's not as powerful looking."
"That's not what I meant. Is he bigger than me?"
Lucy blushed again as she understood what Fergus was asking. She blushed because she was in a position to know the answer. Because Fergus knew she could answer. "No, Fergus, he's about the same. Maybe a little smaller." Instinctively she knew this was the right answer, even though Wade had seemed thicker, somehow.
"So Anne has a playmate," mused Fergus. "Does Charles know?"
"Oh God, no," cried Lucy, "and please don't tell him. I promised Anne I'd wait until Saturday to tell you, so she could tell Charles herself when he gets back Saturday night. Wade will be gone for good by then."
"Wade?"
"That's what she called him."
"Ah, Wade!" whispered Fergus as he rolled out of the bed and stood up. Suddenly the bedside light flicked on. Fergus was nude, erect. "Take off your nightgown, Lucy." A command. Still shaken, unsure of what he thought of her, she complied.
"So Anne took him in her mouth, eh. Show me Lucy. Show me what you saw. . ."
Fearfully, Lucy moved over to the edge of the bed. What was Fergus doing. Was he trying to punish her, somehow? She stopped close to him, her head down.
"Take it, Lucy. Show me what Anne was doing."
Slowly Lucy raised her head, her eyes bright with moisture. She leaned forward and took him in, feeling the slippery preejaculate against her tongue. Fergus moaned and pushed his hips toward her. "So you watched Anne on her knees, sucking him? Just like this?" He groaned.
And suddenly Lucy knew that Fergus wasn't punishing her; he wasn't even thinking of her. He was thinking of Anne! Thinking what it would be like to put his <cock> in Anne's mouth. For a second, she was washed with anger, and then realized how ludicrous that was. Then she thought of HIM, of taking Wade into her mouth, just like Anne. Just like this. Suddenly the beginnings of excitement overtook her for the first time that night. It was like his fantasy freed her for hers, and she responded by taking him farther into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the underside. Fergus groaned again.
Then her mouth was empty. "Turn around, Lucy. Put your ass up for me like Anne did." Lucy was only too happy to comply. On hands and knees, she let her head droop to the mattress, until the crown was touching the sheet. Behind her she felt Fergus moving, lining up his penis, then thrusting forward.
A vision of him plunging into Anne formed in her brain. She looked at own her breasts, bouncing back and forth in time with Fergus' thrusts, but she saw Anne's breasts. The thought of her husband roughly taking Anne opened some final barrier to pleasure in her mind, and released her to think of HIM. For the next few moments, each of them used the other as a proxy, joined only at the loins, not in mind or spirit. Each coupled with someone who wasn't there. It was wild, wanton, mindless release. Lucy slammed her body back against Fergus' pelvis and keened a song of abandon. Without warning she froze, moaned, and felt her vaginal muscles spasm rhythmically.
Lucy began to relax and fall forward, but Fergus grabbed her hips and pulled her forcefully back, impaling her again. And again. Lucy came again. She was just finishing her contractions when Fergus began pumping in short quick strokes, finally holding her tightly to his body as his hips jerked spasmodically. "Oh Lucy, my love, oh God," he cried at his release.
Lucy fell forward, turning on her side as she did. Fergus crawled beside her and made spoons, hugging her tightly to him from behind. Neither spoke as their breathing slowly subsided. Fergus got up, saying, "Back in a sec."
Lucy knew he had gone for ice water, and tonight she needed it. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her, less from the temperature than from her excitement. She pondered Fergus' cry at climax. <Maybe he wasn't with Anne . . . > she mused, pleased at the thought but guilty as well, because she had been with Wade in her mind.
She sat up when Fergus returned through the door, dropping her calves over the side of the bed. He handed her a glass, but not the usual tumbler of ice water.
"After all that, I thought you needed something more than water," he said. "It's Stoly from the freezer. Cock the wrist and one motion, just like they showed us at the Serbian Crown."
Remembering the waiter that had put his arms around her from behind to show her the proper motion to throw down the shots of iced vodka that flowed freely that night, and who incidentally managed to cop a feel of her breast as he pulled away, Lucy smiled and downed the vodka in her glass. It burned in her throat, but it felt good, different from the cloying routine they had developed. She hoped it was a harbinger of other changes.
"Now I really do need some water," she said.
Fergus grinned as his other hand proffered the glass. "After something like that, you can have anything you want from me. I've never seen you so passionate. It was great."
But his face was serious as he sat on the bed beside her. "You can go back tomorrow, if you want. Lucy, I listened to what you told me and it sounded to me like you will always regret it if you don't let yourself go at least once in your life. I can live with it, if it's just this once."
"I can't go back, Fergus," said Lucy, eyes downcast. "You don't understand."
"Then explain," said Fergus.
"Fergus, if I go back, I am going to be fucked. Is that what you want?" Her voice was flat.
Fergus looked surprised. Lucy normally didn't talk like that. "You managed to avoid it so far. What would be different? You're not falling in love with him, are you?"
"Oh Lord, no, Fergus. I am not in love with him. But the feeling around him is like that except dangerous and dirty. It's the same feeling of a rush, except it's not like love. It made me feel . . . I came close, Fergus. I wanted to let him have me, just like he had Anne. You just don't understand. There's something about him. It took all my strength to pull away. If I go back . . "
Fergus was silent. Finally, he spoke, "You can go back if you need to, Lucy. Even if you can't resist him. I took you off the market before you had a chance to experiment, and now you're regretting it. Have a fling if you need it. It's okay. It's better than knowing that you are living with regret at not taking your chance. Maybe coming to resent me for it. Just come back to me."
"Don't say it," whispered Lucy. "I'm not going back."
"I love you, sweet wife," said Fergus, pulling her into his embracing arms.
"Oh I love you so much," answered Lucy.