by Sean Geist
“I'll have one, too,” she said to the waitress. “Cream on the side.” She slid into the booth across from me. “So, bro. What's the emergency.”
I looked at my sister. Despite the early hour, she had a spark in her eyes. She looked ready to face just about anything. She was twenty-nine years old, and worked as a personal assistant to the President of a mid-sized tech company located in Scottsdale, but I figure she'll be running the company within the next five years, assuming she ever finishes her MBA.
I figured this wasn't the time to hedge on my situation. I called her out in the wee hours, on a weekend, and she came. No questions asked. She deserved the truth.
“I think my marriage is in trouble,” I said.
“What? Didn't you just celebrate your anniversary in Vegas?”
“Yeah, sis. That's where the trouble started.” And for the next ten minutes I explained how my trip to Vegas turned into a life-changing event. How we won a rather large sum of money at roulette with the help of a complete stranger, a handsome, rich, charming stranger. I told Suzie how my wife was seduced, right under my nose by this man. How she had an affair with him, how she was still having an affair with him. I then told her how I had spent yesterday moving her up to Camp Verde so she could start working for him, opening and managing a state-of-the-art fitness spa.
“So, she's left you then. Good thing you two don't have any kids. That always gets messy. My friend, Maddie, I don't think you know her, she has two kids. She has custody, but she can't move out of Arizona with them. It's a nightmare.”
“We're not getting a divorce, Suz,” I said.
My sister had been getting ready to take a sip of coffee. She just sat there, looking at me over the rim of her cup, the steam, rising silently between our eyes.
“You serious?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.
Keeping the kinky sex stuff to a minimum, I told Suzie how we had decided to have an open marriage, taking sexual pleasures where we found them, but staying lovingly faithful to each other.
My sister calmly put down her coffee cup, looked me square in the eyes and told me I was a fucking idiot.
“This isn't going to work,” she said. “You two were not meant for this kind of... lifestyle.”
“Suz, she says she still loves me, and I believe her and I love her too. I just want her to be happy. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.”
“But didn't you say she loves this Scott guy as well?”
“Yeah,” I said, staring down into my coffee. “That's the hard part.”
“No, Peter. That's easy. She has to choose.”
I paused for a bit. I was coming to the realization that my sister was right.
“I know. It's just that I'm afraid she won't choose me.”
Still looking down, I felt my sister reach out across the table and touch my hand. “Peter, look at me.”
I looked up. Her mouth was turned up in a sad smile. I think I noticed just a hint of pity in her eyes. I knew my sister loved me, but we were just two different people. She was ambitious, never letting others tell her what to do. She trusted her own judgment and damned what other people thought.
I, on the other hand, was a follower. I was very competent in my job, and when I took on a task, I completed it. I just never liked to venture out of my comfort zone. I took very few risks, and only when I had some sort of plan B to fall back on. That's why I was so lost in my current situation.
“Peter, you have to trust yourself every now and then. I think you're a great guy, and Robin wouldn't have married you if she didn't feel that way as well. But if she won't choose you over Scott... well then, do you really want to stick around?”
“Sis, I think I'm hoping she eventually sees the light.”
Suzie laughed and said, “Maybe she will. What will you do in the meantime?”
“Continue working. She'll be coming down twice a month to spend the weekend with me, and I'll visit her in Camp Verde whenever I can get away from the clinic.”
“And you're really okay with her sleeping with Scott?”
One of the few good things about my father leaving us when we were young was I could talk to my sister about anything. We formed a very close bond, and no topic was off limits. It was Suzie I went to when I was pondering asking out one of my patient's owners. And I was the one who went with my sister to the Planned Parenthood clinic when an un-planned pregnancy nearly sidetracked her college plans.
So talking about kinky sexual habits was not out of bounds for us.
“This open marriage thing is a two way street,” I said. “ I also get to sleep with other women.”
Suzie chuckled some more. “You got any prospects, bro?”
“Um,” I could have lied and tried to save some face, but I don't think Suzie would have bought it. “No. I've never really been outgoing around women. You know that. Someone had to hit Robin's dog and nearly kill it to get us together. I'd probably still be single if it wasn't for that mutt.”
“What ever happened to little Barney?”
“His name was Beasley, and he passed away a couple years ago. You really have to get over to the house more.”
About this time our breakfasts arrived. I had my usual, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and hash-browns. My sister had something off the healthy choice menu, a spinach and pepper omelet, I think.
Over breakfast we chatted about unimportant stuff, like the weather, warm and sunny, the Diamondbacks, two months into the season and already out of the pennant race.
I told her I was putting together the plans to expand our Veterinary Clinic's surgery facilities. Suzie told me her boss was planning some major surgery and would be out of work for at least three weeks. I told her this was her time to stage the coup. She chuckled.
Our conversation eventually came back around to my personal life.
“So, anyway,” my sister started between bites of her turkey bacon, “there are a few single ladies I know at church I might be able to set you up with.”
I laughed and almost choked on my hash-browns. “You really want to deal with the gossip?”
“You could always lie and tell them you're single or separated.”
“Isn't lying against one of the ten commandments?”
“Says the adulterer.”
“I haven't slept with anyone but my wife... yet.”
We both shared a laugh. I was starting to feel much better. While I hadn't dealt with all of my emotional issues, it felt good to talk to my sister and get a different perspective on the situation.
The check arrived. I paid.
“I really need to get home, sis,” I said. “I've been up more than 24 hours now and I'm beat.”
We got up to leave. As we stood my sister pulled me into a strong hug. “Peter,” she said, “Anytime you need anything, just call. I'm serious, even if it's at 3 in the morning.”
“Sure thing.”
“I love you,” she said.
“I know, and...”
“I may think you're an idiot but I still love you.”
“Thanks,” I said, with just a hint of sarcasm, as I walked away.
The sun was just coming up as I pulled into our driveway. It was still 'our' driveway, Robin's and mine. I wasn't willing to give up on our marriage as long as she wasn't. Maybe I'd feel better after I had a few dates under my belt. Maybe Robin would realize she didn't really love Scott and she'd move home. And maybe the D-backs would win the World Series. Anything was possible, but I wasn't going to hold my breathe.
I walked into the house and tried in vain to ignore the enormous void that was left by Robin's absence. Pictures on the refrigerator spoke of happier times, a trip to the bottom of the Grand Canyon, a ski trip to Lake Tahoe our first winter as a married couple. Little nick-knacks scattered around the house, things my eyes normally skipped over now demanded my attention – these little touches of Robin.
I was able to hold myself together long enough to call the rental car company and tell them they c
ould pick up the car anytime.
The walk-in closet in the master bedroom felt barren with almost half the clothes gone, another reminder of how alone I was.
I undressed and slipped into bed. Even there I could still sense Robin's presence, her aroma permeated the bed sheets and pillow cases. Surprisingly her scent filled me with a certain calm. If I closed my eyes, I was able to imagine she was still there.
Exhaustion was quickly overtaking me and sleep would soon follow. I was lost in thoughts of my wife, erotic, lustful thoughts. Robin's lips wrapped round my cock, her head bobbing up and down. Now it was my head between her thigh's, her musky scent in my nose, her tangy taste on my tongue as I eagerly lapped at the folds of her labia. I so enjoyed the essence of her arousal.
My eyes are now closed and I can feel the waking world slipping away and a new image invades my thoughts. It's Robin on her back, enjoying a good hard pounding. She shouts with pleasure at each thrust. It's Scott, her lover, who's fucking her. I see him, his body looms over her, his ass clenching as his seed erupts deep into her womb.
And I am aroused myself and sleep has overtaken me and I fall, head first, into this abyss of pleasure.
Chapter 3
The first two weeks after the move were the hardest. To fend off the loneliness, I filled my time with activity. At work I kept myself constantly busy, taking as many clients as I could. I was fortunate that one of the other vets at my clinic was on vacation. I volunteered for his on-call time, and was able to perform a few spayings that were scheduled before his time off request.
I was constantly around people; I didn't really want to be alone. Before Robin's new job, and new lover, I would spend my lunch break in my office, catching up on journal readings, or playing computer solitaire. Now I ate in the clinic's employee lunch room, getting to know my co-workers, people who I, quite honestly, always took for granted. While I spent a lot of time around people, I didn't really say much. All the conversations were light, weather, sports, maybe a little local gossip. I never mentioned my wife, and I only talked about her if someone asked me a direct question. I kept all my answers vague.
After work, I avoided the empty house. I ate out a lot and spent my free time working on office paperwork and planning for the clinic expansion. As long as my mind was occupied with other issues, I was able to deal, and after a while I did start to feel better, I started to get used to being alone again.
It also helped that, even though we were living apart, I still talked to Robin almost every day, and it never failed to lift my spirits. We usually talked right before going to bed. She'd call me some evenings – I called her on others. I'd tell her about work, the memorable patients I saw, like the Siamese cat I had to remove seven large cactus needles from, or the Black Lab that got into a tussle with a wild javelina.
For her part, my wife's days were weighed down with the seemingly unending parade of tasks and issues she had to deal with to get the Spirit Spa up and running. The proposed site passed its initial inspection and a lease was signed the Wednesday after she moved up north. Now, she was supervising the contractors to make sure all the needed construction and remodeling was done properly. There were also vendors to contact, licenses to apply for, and soon, staff to begin hiring.
I loved the time I spent talking with Robin - even if the topics were light, they were interesting. I wanted these calls to last as long as possible. Luckily, between animal emergencies and business obligations, we never ran out of things to talk about.
Scott's name rarely came up, and when it did, it was always about the business. Contracts only he could sign, or decisions only he could make. He had stayed in Camp Verde for just a few days, enough time to sign the initial paperwork, then it was off to oversee one of his other projects.
We never talked about her intimate relationship with Scott, but I couldn't help but think about the two of them, together on the bed, when his name did come up. And weirdly enough, I sometimes became aroused when it did.
Our calls only ended when we were both too tired to go on. Robin was happy, I was content, and our life seemed to be settling into a comfortable, if unfamiliar, rhythm.
Robin's days were filled beyond capacity and she was really looking forward to her first weekend off, to come back home to Phoenix, to relax, and spend a little more quality time with me.
***
On my first Friday night alone, I was sitting at the bar of The Oasis, one of my favorite restaurants nursing a shot of 12 year old Glenlivet, when a gorgeous red head sat down on the empty stool next to mine.
“You don't mind if I sit here, do you?” she asked. It was a rhetorical questions and she didn't wait for a response. “Tommy, be a dear, and get me a Sam Adams.”
Her name was Angie. Usually I only saw her on the other side of the bar, wearing a black button down shirt and black slacks, the universal uniform of the barkeep. Tonight, she was wearing civilian clothes – a gold and black cocktail dress that ran halfway down her thighs. The neckline was cut low, allowing her breasts, at least a cup size larger than Robin's, to almost spill out the top.
She looked mesmerizing. Her makeup, usually understated, was bold. Her green eyes sparked, her dark red lips - moist, inviting - seemed to be asking to be kissed. And I oh so wanted to. I briefly thought of my wife, then I thought of Scott, and I almost did something stupid and piggish. But I thought better and simply raised my glass.
“A toast for your day off?” I said.
“Sure thing Pete,” she replied. We clinked glasses and drank.
“You must really love this place.” I said, trying to be friendly, yet enjoying the flirtatiousness of it. I wasn't used to talking to women outside of a pure business or casual environment. Before Robin, most of the women I dated were friends first, or friends of friends. I've never picked up a woman in my life, so if I was going to make this 'open marriage' thing work, I'd need all the practice I could get.
“Was suppose to go to the museum tonight, with my soon to be ex-boyfriend. Looks like he's stood me up once again.”
“He's an idiot,” I said, like I actually knew the guy she was dating. “Standing up someone like you.” I took a sip of my scotch.
“Thanks, Pete,” she said. I was stunned when I felt her soft warm lips on my cheek. “But also shame on you.”
I turned to look at her.
“You shouldn't be flirting like that,” she said. A look, a small spark of anger, like a woman who knew what it was like to be cheated on. I was afraid for a moment she was angry with me, like she was getting ready to slap me. “Aren't you married?”
I looked down at the ring of my left hand then back up at Angie. The red-head held my gaze, the look – sad and angry. Then she couldn't help it and she started laughing. I smiled too.
“Come on, Angie,” I said, “flirting's harmless. Let me buy you a drink to show there's no hard feelings.”
“That's kinda moving from flirting to hitting on a girl. What would the missus think?”
“You might be surprised,” I said, with a wink. I felt so stupid doing that – winking. It wasn't something I would normally do, but the alcohol and my new marital situation put me in a weird mood and I was going to ride it out.
I must have looked a sight, me, an average man, pushing forty, making time with a girl a decade younger.
We both took a drink. I felt kinda giddy. Like a much younger man. And, a bit naughty. Enjoying an evening out with a woman, a beautiful, sexy woman. The fact that she wasn't my wife just made it feel even naughtier.
We sat and chatted for a bit. I bought her drink, a dirty martini. And soon I was even thinking I might actually ask her out for dinner, or a movie. But before I could take that step, and before I could maybe make a fool of myself, her boyfriend walked in.
He wasn't familiar to me, so he wasn't a regular at the bar. He was about six feet tall, just a little taller than Angie, wearing heals, with short blond hair and baby blue eyes. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, but no
tie.
I could deny he was reminding me of Scott, coming to take yet another woman away from me, but I'd be lying.
“Jason,” the beautiful red-head next to me said, with just a little surprise. “You should have been here an hour ago.”
Angie looked at me with a sad smile, and shrugged her shoulders, telling me she was kinda sorry, but.
“Car got a flat. Had to call a cab. Come on, it's outside.” He had a very clipped, brusk way with his words.
“You coulda texted.”
“Hey. Lay off me Ang. My battery died. Damn iPhone. Smart phones ain't so smart. You coming or what?”
Angie looked at Jason, then at me. I could tell she would make good on her threat, to make him her ex-boyfriend. “Okay,” she said, with a sigh.
The boy turned to go, unaware of the danger his relationship was in. But then again, he was pretty enough. He'd find another girlfriend soon.
“I'll be right there,” Angie said, just as the bar's door shut behind Jason. She took her drink, finishing the martini with one pull.
She turned to me and said, “sorry, gotta go. Thanks for the drink, Pete. I'll make it up to you later.”
She was walking towards the door, but turned before she got too far away.
“Promise?” I asked.
“Promise,” she said, with a wink. And then, she was gone.
***
I had finally become comfortable spending time alone with myself when Robin showed up at my door one week later. Although I was expecting her, the sight of my wife standing on my threshold had me stunned. She stood there, in tight brown shorts and a white blouse, undone at least two buttons past decent, looking at me through her Maui Jim shades, as hot and beautiful as the mid-June afternoon. She brushed her fingers through her short brown hair, feathering it back. It had grown out a bit, from the extreme cut she got in Vegas, but there was still a ways to go before it was as long as it was before our adventure, that's if she didn't cut it again.
