Uncovered

by A. S Peavey

  But she did seem to be the obvious woman to turn to. Kelsey tended to talk about Vickie, more than she talked to her. Vickie was the butt of rumors around the office. And the conversation wasn’t always kind.

  Vickie was known for her sex life. Though she had a steady boyfriend, rumor had it that she slept with a different man every weekend. Maybe not just one. She’d been spotted with other men, and a few people said they knew someone who’d slept with Vickie, though no one came forth. She either didn’t sleep with anyone at work, or if she did, her partners kept their lips sealed.

  “I don’t expect you’ve invited me her to say you’re sorry for your part in all the rumors about me?”

  “I…I suppose I should start by apologizing for…”

  Vickie held up a hand. “Stop right there. I’m used to it.”

  “Okay…”

  “And it’s not something I want apologies for. I’m not ashamed.”

  “So…The rumors are true?”

  “Yes.”

  Kelsey took a deep breath, toying with her coffee. She’d sipped through half of it while waiting for Vickie. But now she couldn’t bring herself to take another sip.

  “You want me to spell it out? I’m in an open relationship. Or is that not clear enough? My boyfriend isn’t the only person I sleep with.”

  Kelsey nodded.

  “I’m sorry to make you say that. I just…I’m afraid of confessing my own…” Kelsey stopped before she said ‘sins.’ She felt guilty, but she didn’t feel she had anything she really ought to feel sorry for.

  “It’s okay.” Vickie’s tone softened. She’d clearly expected some insult, but it was clear that Kelsey had something that she needed to talk about. “I’m assuming this isn’t a come on.”

  “What…no…” Kelsey was nervous.

  She hadn’t even thought that. Yes, when she’d masturbated to the sounds of her husband fucking his mistress, she’d spent time imagining that woman. Yes, she’d fucked herself while watching only the woman’s half a sexual encounter. But she wouldn’t have considered wanting to make love to a woman. Right?

  Kelsey tried to laugh it off. But her timid laugh gave her away, until Vickie started laughing too, and Kelsey’s laugh turned genuine.

  It had been a joke.

  “No. I came for advice. About…sleeping around.”

  All Vickie could say was “You? Really?”

  “Me. Really.” Kelsey felt the need to defend herself. “I may have a proper exterior. But it wasn’t like this before I married.”

  “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to judge you. It’s just surprised. How did it happen?”

  Kelsey took a deep breath. She looked around. But nothing offered an excuse for her to delay. She even felt comfortable enough now to explain why she’d invited Vickie for a coffee. She gave her stories, using as vague terms as she could: relations, instead of intercourse, much less sex; pleasure, instead of masturbation; and so on. The meaning, nonetheless, was clear, and probably would have been clear to anyone who managed to overhear one word in five.

  Vickie kept quiet while Kelsey spoke, leaning back, taking it in, reminding herself every now and then to take a sip of her coffee.

  “You seem to have taken the bull by the horns. Why do you want my advice?”

  “Because…it’s not making me happy.”

  Vickie raised an eyebrow. Kelsey didn’t give her a chance to say anything.

  “I actually liked…I liked what I did—to myself—when I listened to them more than when I was with Josh. Even though I was an actual participant then.”

  Vickie didn’t seem surprised.

  “So you didn’t like having sex with this Josh?”

  Kelsey looked around, but nobody looked up or around. The word sex was common currency here. Rumors and private discussions on the subject passed through this and every café a hundred times a day.

  “I liked it.” Kelsey paused, bringing back pictures of the one-night stand to her mind. “I enjoyed it.”

  “You can say that. But I hear a lack of enthusiasm.”

  “Well…”

  Kelsey’s vagina even tingled at the memories. But it didn’t gush wet as it did when she thought of her husband’s affair. That was the problem (though it wasn’t a problem that her panties weren’t suddenly drenched while she was having a cup of coffee with a coworker). She wasn’t as excited about bedding another man as she was at being twenty feet away from another couple going at it, with a wall or two blocking her vision and muting the moans.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s not as good, as passionate, as I’m looking for.”

  “You’re looking in the wrong place. You’re not going to get passion in a random hook up.”

  “I wanted the passion my husband and his slut had.”

  “Don’t!” Vickie said, raising herself up. “Don’t call any woman that.”

  “Why?”

  “It a way to belittle women. There aren’t words like slut and whore and a dozen other slurs for men. Society disapproves of infidelity in men, but any sexual freedom in women is frowned on, even if she isn’t married. And you’re feeding into that.”

  “But she deserves something for cheating with Omar.”

  “Only if you deserve the same epithets.”

  That shut Kelsey up. When she spoke up again, it was to maneuver back to the original subject. “So why didn’t it have passion?”

  Vickie shrugged her shoulders. “How am I supposed to know? Is there anything you regret, specifically?”

  “I kind of feel bad about Josh.”

  Vickie nodded for Kelsey to continue.

  “I guess…I guess I feel like I’ve used him and that’s all. Even though he was using me. That was the basis of our relationship, after all.”

  “Do you feel it would be better if you weren’t sneaking around to do it?”

  “No but…you’re awfully judgmental, considering.”

  “My boyfriend is aware of everything—everyone that I have sex with. That’s the point of an open relationship.”

  “Oh.” Kelsey couldn’t really grasp the idea behind that kind of relationship. In practice she’d imagined getting to watch Omar and his mistress—without hiding. That would require Omar’s permission for her to watch. And, of course, Omar would then need Kelsey’s permission to fuck someone else.

  Kelsey wondered whether Omar would stop sleeping with the other woman when he found out what Kelsey knew.

  But Kelsey couldn’t sort of the different principles involved. Why did knowledge or permission make that big a difference? It involved the same immorality. She’d taken a vow not to sleep around. And wasn’t that what relationships were based on? Exclusivity.

  Not that she would let that vow stop her. But she had trouble seeing how details made a difference.

  “But we weren’t talking about me,” Vickie said. “Let me ask if you really feel okay with yourself.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re okay with it because your husband is also sleeping behind your back.”

  “Well…”

  “And even though you’re now ‘even,’ you’re still not happy with your husband for sleeping around behind your back, right? I heard you call his mistress a slut.”

  Kelsey was conflicted. Because the thought of Omar sleeping around excited one part of her, and pissed another part off.

  “Not completely.”

  “And do you want to upset your husband the same way?”

  Kelsey picked up her coffee cup, a quarter full of now cold liquid, and swirled it around. When finally she spoke all she could say was “No…”

  “You need to talk to your husband.”

  “That’s your advice. If I want to enjoy extramarital sex, I should confess what I’m doing to my husband?”

  “If you want to enjoy sex, period, talk with your husband. But right now there’s a lot of air you need to clear.”

  “But…”

  “And don’t delay. Sit him do
wn—make sure he shuts up until you’re ready for him to respond—until you’ve made down clear that you don’t fully appreciate him sleeping with another woman, but also kind of like it. Make sure he knows not to derail you. Frankly, if I were doing this, I’d gag him so he couldn’t talk—maybe cuff him so he couldn’t remove the gag. But I don’t suppose you two are into bondage play?”

  “No.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t get that vibe from your relationship.”

  “If we did that kind of thing, I don’t think I’d be having problems with excitement.”

  “Well, you need to level with him. That’s the best way. I know that sounds horrifying, but trust me, I speak from experience.”

  Kelsey eyed her. She’d been dubious about seeking out Vickie. Aside from the bad reputation, the woman was still in her mid-twenties. What could Vickie really know from experience?

  But she came off as more mature. Worth listening too.

  Her advice was just hard to take.

  Family Woman

  Kelsey had made love to her husband once in the past week (their usual tame sex). Who knew if her husband had slept with his mistress again—but Kelsey hadn’t caught them again. But Kelsey hadn’t brought herself to hunt for other men again, either. Even if she could find time when her husband wouldn’t catch her, she hadn’t felt the inclination to try again.

  A part of her hoped that was it. That she could cease her infidelity just like that, go back to the normal—okay, boring, but still happy—sex life she’d had before.

  Of course, Kelsey changing her mind wouldn’t stop Omar sleeping around. But she was ready to give up this silly quest. She’d had a good thing before happening on Omar’s infidelity. Even if his infidelity had excited her, Kelsey wanted that good thing back.

  Kelsey had sat through Vickie’s advice. She didn’t like the idea of speaking to her husband, confessing all—or even worse, listening to him fumble an excuse for why he’d strayed first. She had trouble believing that talking, confessing, would improve things.

  But she had to trust the more experienced woman.

  However, when she considered how to broach the subject, how to keep Omar quiet while she talked, she just couldn’t imagine a way to start the discussion. And so she’d decided to retreat. She’d just give up on having an exciting sex life and settle for a perfectly satisfactory one. She’d have a kid with Omar. And that would be that.

  The problem was that her body wouldn’t let her settle back down to a simple sex life.

  Early the next week she arrived at the fertility clinic—at long last. The appointment had begun normally enough. The nurse had come in, asked a series of question—only the basic medical history questions, leaving the more intimate questions for Doctor Boutre to ask when she arrived.

  There were the standard doctor’s tests, blood pressure and temperature, and so on.

  And then the nurse handed her the gown to change into.

  Kelsey wasn’t really conscious of her actions. Once the nurse left, she stripped out of her clothes with a little discomfort, but far less hesitation than she would have felt in the past.

  She actually played with herself for a moment. There was just something naughty about being naked in a strange room, as if a camera could have been hiding anywhere, or at least the strange paintings and medical instruments had memories, and could share what they saw with the owner of the room.

  She stopped herself quickly, once she realized what she was doing, but it had been done, the scene had been set.

  Kelsey wondered why stripping and changing in a doctor’s office hadn’t excited her in the past. One reason—and there were undoubtedly dozens—was that when she’d had to change in the past, she’d stayed as clothed as possible while changing into a gown. She’d taken off her top, and then put the gown on before she took off her pants.

  And she’d faced a corner of the room to do it.

  She’d been too scared to get horny.

  As if those walls could have eyes. But that was still how she felt. That was still what she was thinking. Today it just didn’t scare her. She’d seen her husband and his lover fucking. That had excited her. Apparently a part of her wanted to switch roles, and be the exhibitionist.

  And she wasn’t just thinking about fucking Omar.

  She was thinking about fucking other men. Going to a bar. Pick them out, try them, compare them. Young and old. Of any race, color, and creed. (Would any of those distinctions matter? Did creed actually matter when you fucked? Would Hindus actually make for more interesting lovers? Sure, they had the Kama Sutra, but does that mean they were really more adventurous in bed? That didn’t seem any more likely than that Christian men only fucked in the missionary position. None of the Christians she let in her pants had been content with just the missionary position—and she would have told them off if they stopped there).

  The fertility clinic—thoughts of fertility and baby making, directed Kelsey mind to sex. And it certainly made her think about her husband. And not just because of all the times they’d have to fuck to make a baby.

  She was thinking about Omar fucking other women while he was fucking her to get her pregnant.

  Kelsey couldn’t help wondering when Omar’s affair had begun. She remembered how he’d been when they decided to have a baby. She hadn’t sensed anything untoward. He’d seemed excited. More excited than Kelsey, in fact.

  Omar had come home jubilant, with news over a promotion. He stopped by the liquor store and bought two bottles of champagne. Not the highest shelf, Dom Perignon stuff—they might now both have good jobs, but not that good—but better champagne than either had ever had before.

  Omar hadn’t called ahead, because he wanted to give Kelsey the news in person. So Kelsey, since it was her night to cook, was already working in the kitchen. So they had an entirely inappropriate mac and cheese with that champagne. She would have baked a nice dessert to make up for dinner, but between the champagne and Omar’s jubilant mood, she didn’t get the chance. Once they’d finished their meal, while she was trying to apologize for the incongruent dinner, he leaned over and kissed her. And didn’t let up until she was kissing back just as fiercely. She jumped up to head for the bedroom—their sex could be good, but it only ever happened in the bedroom.

  Omar reminded her to grab her champagne flute. He grabbed his, and the second bottle. They didn’t get far into that second bottle for the next hour. Omar poured a little onto Kelsey’s body and tried to sip it off before it streamed off her. He did a somewhat better job than Kelsey when she tried to return the favor, though he did have the advantage of being able to pour it in the valley between her breasts.

  That did more to bring giggles than a sexual atmosphere. So they set the champagne aside except to take quick swallows, which they soon were too distracted to remember to do.

  After they’d both orgasmed, after they both came down from the afterglow, Omar had rolled on his side to look at Kelsey. He didn’t speak immediately.

  “What?” Kelsey said.

  “I was thinking…” Omar paused, drinking up the features of Kelsey’s face more greedily than he’d drunken up the contours of her body.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, we both have good enough jobs. And I know we’ve talked about this, and said this was when we’d try, but I wanted to talk about it. I think now is the time to start a family. What do you think?”

  “You want to have a baby? Now?”

  “Yes.”

  Kelsey was drunk enough that she quickly said yes. They had more conversations about the baby. Omar sensed Kelsey’s reluctance. She felt she’d agreed too quickly. And she had other doubts. She was afraid of parenthood, afraid of having to care for a baby. But she agreed. She wanted to have a child.

  But now Kelsey wondered what Omar had been thinking

  Was he already having his affair? Had it been going on seven months ago when they agreed to have a child. Had he at least been planning it? Did he think that with a good job, i
t was time to acquire both a nice baby and a good mistress?

  Or was the affair sudden, and more recent?

  Had his affair changed his thoughts about pregnancy?

  It certainly hadn’t changed his behavior. They were still trying to conceive—unless Omar was hiding his own infertility. But no; she’d seen his test results.

  Kelsey had heard about plenty of couples whose sex lives as good as ended when one spouse began an affair. But hers hadn’t markedly changed.

  And now Omar’s affair excited her. Her husband was having a better sex life. And hers hadn’t changed. Maybe that meant she should change her sex life.

  But how?

  And why was she so horny right now? Did she actually want to fuck herself in the doctor’s office? Or someone else, for that matter?

  Kelsey couldn’t help thinking about herself, and her body. She thought about being stark naked in the middle of the room. She had grown more comfortable with herself. Had she grown too comfortable?

  She had another dozen minutes to wait for Doctor Boutre. Her mind would consider no subject besides the brief moment that she’d played with herself.

  She couldn’t help thinking about the gown she was wearing. If she turned around, her butt would be hanging out for all to see. And even if her front was covered, it was covered by no more than this paper thin fabric. She didn’t know if the gown would display her hard nipples, but she wore neither bra nor panties to offer any additional coverage.

  It was hardly the first time she’d worn one of these gowns around medical staff. Her OB/GYN doctors had needed to look at her genitals. And then there was a hospital stay five years ago, when she’d been deathly sick with Malaria. Kelsey had thought she had a bad cold, but it turned out that she brought a nasty disease back from vacation.

  Kelsey had been forced to wear a gown for far longer then. She even had to wander the halls wearing it.

  She’d been embarrassed at the time. Her mind focused on dozens of vulnerabilities, how easily it could slip aside, or blow up, how easily sitting at the wrong angle would reveal something.

  But this time such thoughts made her horny.