by Wendy Burke
As she manipulated her husband the way she knew he adored, her mind raced with thoughts. Insecurities took center stage in her head. After all the years they’d been together she still wanted to hear how much he needed her, wanted her, that no matter what city or trade or trouble came between them, that nothing would ever truly divide what they shared. C’mon Andy, help a girl out—tell me about the first time I ever did this to you. As she eased her middle finger into his crack, her palm pressed against his tightening balls. Peeking up at him, she smiled. He rested his head back into the tile, eyes closed. He touched her shoulder with one hand, while his other held tight to the shower seat. She loved it when he slipped into sexual nirvana, and nothing made her happier than knowing she was taking him there. If only you’d tell me that.
“You think anyone on your ‘list’ would do this?” Of course, the “list” she referred to is the one every couple has. Five completely unattainable fucks. But if one of them happened to show up at the front door, one spouse would grant a pass long enough to allow the other’s fantasy to be fulfilled with that actor, model, or musician.
“Do what?” he groaned.
She continued working him, inside and out. She rose up the best she could, leaning into him, requesting his attention. “You know”—she gave him a good solid poke, which sent him into a fit of moans and shivers—“uh, finger you.” She watched as he fluttered his eyes, his mouth tweaking into a little grin.
“Well?”
“Maybe Cache, yeah, Treena Cache definitely.”
With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see her reaction of disgust at her husband’s choice. Really that Carrie Underwood-Miranda Lambert wannabe whore? “But since she’s not here….”
Despite her somewhat wild college time in Europe, her list of lovers still could be tallied on one hand. Yet, no other had ever allowed her to do what she did now with her husband. Andy telegraphed his readiness with a sigh and relaxing of his lower body. With help of the shower gel and his willingness, she dipped two middle fingers inside him.
His body suddenly alive, he writhed, his ass fucking her one hand, his dick screwing the other.
“Deeper, Charly, deeper!”
Although he could be a long fuck, she felt him nearing his breaking point. When she scissored her fingers inside him, fingertips feathering his prostate, he erupted.
Kneeling before him, she winced, trapped as his sphincter strangled her fingers. That minor discomfort was placated by her joy and arousal as streams of cum spewed into her other hand.
A resounding, “Fuck me!” echoed off the tile.
He caressed her head, and she released him. Climbing into his lap, she reveled in his strength and warmth. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed when brought her into his embrace. She felt his heart pounding against her chest.
They sat, quiet, recovering, until she patted him, requesting release. Turning off the shower, she popped open the door. Clouds of steam streamed into the cooler air of the bathroom. Before she could snag a towel, Andy did, tossing it over his shoulder. She stifled a surprised squeak when he scooped her into his strong arms.
He carried her into the bedroom and placed her back on her feet at the edge of their large bed. Charly closed her eyes, swimming in the warmth of her husband and his caring caresses as he dried her with the bath sheet. When she opened her eyes, he smiled at her, moving in for a kiss. His kiss and the gentle insistence of his body directed her to the mattress.
His hand ventured between her legs. “Mmm…still wet from the shower.”
When he slipped two strong fingers into her, she arched her back, wanting but unable to breathe his name, her mouth too occupied by his talented tongue. She relished his long, masterful kisses, his strong heft above her. “Andy,” she pleaded. His mouth left hers, and he withdrew his fingers. He slipped down the length of her body, licking and nipping the entire way. He knelt on the carpeted floor. She closed her eyes and let him work his incredible oral magic.
Andy grazed her thighs, his callused hands encouraging them apart. She bristled at the cooler air of the bedroom and the prickles of whiskers on her mound. He opened her with loving fingers, suckling her labia, his hot insistent tongue swirling over her clit and dipping into her hole.
She’d never felt ‘safe enough’ with anyone but him to allow this type of intimacy. “Andy,” she moaned. She touched his hair and he stopped for a moment, looking up at her. “Please tell me you’re ready again.”
His beautiful grin turned her to jelly every time. He climbed back on the bed, his heft shadowing over her, his again-stiff cock teasing her leg.
He nuzzled her ear. “You think I can pound a boy into you this time?”
In all her life, nothing made her feel as important, as wanted, as cherished, as these incredibly deep, close, loving moments with her husband and friend. But she couldn’t silence the thoughts in her brain, even at this moment. It doesn’t matter what team he’s going to, everything will be all right, he’ll be home a couple times this summer…. She forced the thoughts aside, focusing on moving beneath her husband, finding a better angle for her pleasure. “Baby, yes!”
“Right there, honey? Oh yeah, right fucking there!”
She moaned in near-ecstasy as her husband banged her. Just a little harder….
Through their collective panting, she heard a plaintive whine. “Mommy.”
“Andy,” she whispered, grabbing his hips, trying to still his fervor as her motherly hearing strained.
“Mommy?” The sleepy voice broke slightly, on the verge of tears. Their daughter, concerned and confused.
“Shit.” He held up, flung the linens over the both of them, and slowly withdrew.
Turning her face into a pillow, she tried to hide her irritation due to their coitus interuptus. “Darn it!”
As Andy rolled off her, she grabbed the sheets, assuring they were both covered. How is he going to explain this?
He sat up and took a breath. “What is it, Bree-baby?” he said, his voice gravelly with the remainder of sexual excitement.
“I sleep in your bed, Daddy.”
He answered gently. “You’re a big girl, Bree. You need to sleep in your own bed.”
“No…your bed.”
“Breanna.”
“Mommy.” A small yodel came from the doorway. Chloe stood there, smiling, holding up wet pajama bottoms. “I peed.”
Slipping out the other side of the bed, Charly grabbed a nearby T-shirt and put it on. Flushed with near-orgasm and frustrated due to the lack of one, she checked herself.
“Which one do you want?” Andy asked, chuckling. His back to his family, he slipped out of bed and went hunting for cover. He returned in short order wearing long-line briefs.
“That didn’t last long.”
“Children make you go soft, fast, in so many ways.” Leaning over, he kissed her cheek.
“As usual. I guess I’ll take that as an apology and a rain check.” The words left her mouth with more irritation than she intended. She watched as he easily lifted Bree up into their bed. She did her best to hide her disappointment. She took Chloe’s hand. “C’mon, baby. Mommy’ll clean you up.”
Ten minutes later, two little girls were both dry and asleep. And, as Breanna insisted, in their parents’ bed. Charly rested her head against her husband’s. “Sorry, hon.”
“About what?”
She looked around the bed. “The interruption. My irritation. Too little of you know what these days, and then….”
“Hey.” His warm fingertip lifted her chin. “I love you.” Kissing her gently, he promised, “There’s always tomorrow.” He winked at her in the darkened room. “And I’ll make sure you get off like you’ve never gotten off before.” He stopped for a moment, cuddling a daughter. “Anyway, this is almost as good.”
“I guess we need to put a lock on that door.”
“What for? That would ruin all the excitement!”
Quietly, as to not wake their girls, the
y laughed together.
The thoughts that had darted to the front of her brain earlier in the evening, returned. A question spilled from her mouth before she had any chance to stop it. “So, this trade,” she began.
“Yes, Charlotte.”
No, not my given first name, this is not going to be good. “You know, don’t you?”
“I didn’t want to upset, you Char.”
So you were keeping me in the dark! “Just tell me, Andy.”
“New….”
“No….” With the utterance of that one word, she knew. A city she loathed, a metropolis that had emotionally chewed her up and spit her out. She hadn’t been to The City in more than a decade, and it would take some doing to get her to return.
“…York, the Bronx.”
Swallowing hard, she blocked the tears. A defeated, disgusted sigh left her. “No, Andy, not New York, not the Titans.” Cuddling Chloe closer, she turned her face from her husband and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Three
Two weeks later, the spring baseball rituals began. As much as she hated it, still Charly put on a happy face. If this were any other year, the girls would’ve been outfitted in little Milwaukee Breakers shirts, but mentally holding her nose, she honored her husband by dressing them in tiny Titans jerseys. They sat atop their father’s carry-on at the front door.
Charly watched as he squatted in front of them.
“Daddy’s going to miss you.” He clutched them tightly, smooching them wetly on the cheeks.
“Daddy going to Forida,” Bree mentioned.
“Florida, baby.”
“For what,” he asked.
“Springtime training.”
“Close enough, baby,” he whispered to Bree.
“We come see you, Daddy,” Chloe told him.
“That’s right. Mommy will bring you.” Hugging them again, he said his good-byes.
When he rose to meet Charly, there were tears in his eyes.
“What, Andy?”
Taking her into his arms and holding her tightly, he whispered, “This gets harder all the time.”
Knowing that, she didn’t let on how much his leaving affected her as well, especially since in Florida, there’d be no familiar faces to hang with, no women who understood her and she them. She’d be with strangers. “But, it’s what you do, honey.” She hugged him in return, kissing his cheek. “We’ll see you in a week or two.” His hold tightened about her.
His voice quiet, nearly apologetic, he confessed, “I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to ‘get busy’ lately, Charly. You know how much I’m going to miss that.” He kissed her ear, his voice even more quiet, secretive, “I’ll ask Mom to come to Florida with you. We can get a little alone time then.” His took her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers for a long, deep, gotta-make-it-last kiss.
When the car service driver rang the doorbell, a not so pretty chapter in their lives began.
***
“Mon amour, have you seen this?” Josef, waved New York Magazine at Paul. The gallery always had a collection of arts-centric publications from major metropolitan areas.
“Haven’t gotten to that one, babe, too busy concentrating on Oostburg Today,” he joked with his boyfriend. Leaning back, his head rested in Josef’s midsection as he reached around to show him the publication. He sighed, happy and complete. I would have spent ten times what I did for Madame Eve’s help!
“But you need to see this.” Josef dropped the open publication on the table in front of him, resting his chin on his lover’s shoulder. In the middle of the photo, Andy Knox and his new teammate, Blake Huntington, were dressed to the nines. The full page ad had the newest Titans smothered in nearly bare bodies and breasts. “I don’t think any of those mammaries are connected to his lovely wife.”
“I know I’m late—again,” came a happy call from the front of the gallery. “I had to drop off the girls.”
The two men looked up, as Charly walked in. They tried not to appear in “the know.”
“Boys,” she mentioned, dropping a purse, hanging a coat. “What’s going on?”
Paul clandestinely slid the pages under the desktop blotter. He caught her raising a questioning eye brow.
“Out with it. What’s gonna piss me off on this fine Friday morning?”
“Oh, nuthin’, darling.”
She put out her hand like only a mother can. With nothing more than her palm and her grimace, she insisted the boys turn over whatever it was they were hiding. With a glance at Josef, Paul handed over the incriminating paper and watched as Charly’s usually happy appearance began to slide—concern, sadness, and anger all played in her eyes, her mouth, and her bearing.
“I hate that he’s clean-shaven.”
That’s odd. He let the statement hang in the air, not sure what it meant or what it might convey.
No one moved for what seemed a very long minute. Then, Paul had to dodge the offending publication being flung back to his desk.
Charly turned and stormed back out into the brisk April air.
***
“Charly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Andy nodded hello to teammate Blake Huntington, then wandered to the pool area of the Miami hotel where the players were slowly trickling in for breakfast.
“Not even three weeks into the regular season and I’m looking at shit like this?”
Something was seriously wrong. Rarely did his wife use expletives and not sound relatively sane. “Take a breath, honey, take a breath.” He said the words calmly and with the most respect and care. Hearing Charly cry on the other end of the phone pained his heart. “Baby, what is it?”
Acrid sarcasm shot through the phone. “Oh nothing—just women slathering their tits all over you and that man whore, Huntington, in New York Magazine.”
Shaking his head, confused, Andy had no idea what would propel his wife into such a state. “Listen to me, baby, nothing is going on…nothing.” Those were words he had used in the past, before they were married, knowing at the time they were untrue. Back then, Charly had easily seen through the “nothing’s going on” statement. He’d issued it while he was standing in the doorway of a hotel room with a drunk, naked woman behind him. Compared to then, nothing was going on. “It was a photo shoot, kind of ‘dressing the new guys like they belong in Manhattan’ kind of thing.”
Silence. She wasn’t buying it.
“How many years have we done this?” Andy continued. “Spring training, road games, away from each other for weeks at a time? We both knew what we were signing up for. But, I didn’t sign anything that stated when away from you I’d be unfaithful in any way. To the contrary, honey, you know that.”
More silence.
“I know it’s different this time. During home games, I’m not at home. It’s not Milwaukee, it’s New York City. It’s not quiet, it’s loud. It’s not happily blue collar, it’s the Waldorf Astoria and Wall Street. Haven’t you always told me to enjoy every place I’m in? I had no idea about the models.”
Cricket, cricket.
“But you shaved.”
Shaving must equate to infidelity. C’mon, baby, what’s going on in your head?
“You know the rules. New team, no facial hair. I shave before every game, darlin’.”
“I don’t like it.”
His thoughts turned R-rated, “I don’t either, ’cause I know how my whiskers tickle your….”
He nearly dropped the phone when her voice came bellowing through it. “I don’t know what you’re finding so amusing, Andrew Ryan Patrick Knox!”
Oh, crap—my entire given name, she’s really pissed. “Listen, hon, next weekend we play Chicago. I can spend a couple nights at home.”
Irrational words blasted through the phone. “Home? Wouldn’t that be your Central Park apartment?”
“Charly! Knock it off!” Christ, woman, get a fucking grip! He strolled as far from any co-workers and loitering fans as he could. No one needed to know h
is personal business. As diligently as he tried, he couldn’t stop his voice from taking a curt tone. “What is the matter with you? I don’t know what the fuck you think I’m doing out here, but whatever it is, lose the fucking thought!”
“Don’t even talk to me like.”
Dammit, I hate it when I yell at you, but… “Shut up and listen! If you’re going to concern yourself with something you know I will never do, then I have every fucking right to use this tone of voice.” He stopped, trying to calm himself, hoping he could calm her. Glancing about, he hoped no one had overheard his confused anger. Quietly, he continued, still hearing her sniffle so many miles away. “I love you, baby. I am not ‘that guy.’ I love you and the girls with everything I am. I don’t like being away any more than you do, but we both know this is what I do. No matter where I am, my heart and home are with you, honey.”
He let her be for a moment, allowing his words sink in. “I’m sorry, hon, that I’m here and you’re there. I know this season is different from years past. And, I’m very sorry”—he checked his surroundings, hoping for no accidental eavesdroppers, and lowered his voice—“that we didn’t get around to…you know…my last night home.”
The expression of missed intimacy never found its mark. He’d hoped the words would soften her, making her realize her importance, even if they weren’t physically together.
A loud sniffle came through the receiver. “I just feel so distant from you, Andy, and I don’t mean miles. Like I’m tucked in the back of your mind, not the front of it, and I’m afraid you’re going to forget me there.”
He knew exactly what she implied. Imagining her beautiful face, saddened by his actions, hurt him beyond measure. There would never be a way for him to make amends for his past misdeeds.
***
They were hunkered down at “their” table, at “their” bar. Although a leisurely five minute stroll from the gallery in the touristy Old World Third Street neighborhood of downtown Milwaukee, this wasn’t a tourist attraction. It was a plain old neighborhood tavern, like any you’d find on every corner of every large or small Wisconsin town.
