by Geist, Sean
There was my wife of six years, hugging a tall lean man, smartly dressed in a pair of black denim jeans and a green commando sweater. His eyes were steely blue, his head shaved bald and his skin the color of rich dark chocolate.
I cleared my throat, letting them know I was there. Jennifer broke her embrace and turned to me, “Michael, I'd like you to meet my fellow reservist, Carl. Carl, this is my husband.”
Chapter 3
I never even considered the man who had been hitting on my wife was black. It just, romantically, it never crossed my mind. Jennifer never said, I never thought to ask.
In my sexual fantasy, Carl was a big muscle bound white guy, nothing like the man Jennifer was introducing to me. Does it matter if the man who want's to fuck your wife is black, or brown or pale pink? I didn't see why it should.
I wordlessly extended my hand, my mind still trying to sort out the pieces of my fantasy that had just been shattered. We shook. His grip was firm, but not forceful. He was about my size, a little leaner, six foot tall. He looked fit, as most young National Guardsmen should, but not to bulky.
“It's nice to meet you, Michael,” Carl's baritone voice broke me out of my daze.
“Same here,” I said, “Jennifer has told me lots about you.”
“Only good things, I hope.”
It took every ounce of self-control to not say something snarky. “Yes, only good things.”
“Come on in, Carl,” Jennifer said, taking Carl's hand and drawing him into the house. “I want to introduce you to some of our other friends.” I watched as my wife dragged Carl through the crowd, stopping every so often to say hi to people and introduce him.
I was feeling weird, slightly nauseous, but full of nervous energy, like a simple touch might make me explode. Very odd. I really didn't have anything to be jealous about. Besides the hug, there was nothing physical or even slightly sexual in how they had acted. On the other hand, this guy made a pass at Jennifer almost every month, and he had talked my wife into letting him come to the party.
My wife never kept any secrets about how she felt about Carl; he was a friend who was a little too forward sometimes. It was just harmless flirting she said, but still, there was some deep primal fear building within me, fear about this man. And I couldn't help but think she wasn't too upset about how Carl had wormed his way into an invitation. It was a troubling, yet oddly, arousing feeling.
It was now that I could really use Keith around. He was someone I could always count on, the only person, other than Jennifer I trusted to keep a secret. I thought about calling him on my cell phone, but I figured he'd still be wading through code and in no mood to hear about my mostly imaginary problems.
I decided the next best thing to friendly advice was to get a little drunk. Alcohol always soothes over the rough edges, or does it just sharpen and exaggerate them? I guess I was going to find out.
I headed back to the workout room to get a drink. Jason poured a shot of Jack Daniels into a red plastic cup and handed it to me. I gave it back and asked for a triple.
Our volunteer barkeep cocked his eyebrow at me skeptically and said, “Isn't controlling your guest's alcohol intact why you asked me to pour drinks?”
“Hey,” I said, trying to not sound too defensive, “It's my party and I'm not driving anywhere, plus I've only had like one beer all night. We're celebrating the end of the century – fuck, the end of the millennium.”
“Technically, that's next year,” said a woman's voice behind me. I turned and found my cousin staring back at me.
“Anne-Marie, glad you made it.” I brushed a lock of her curly black hair aside and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “But fuck your technicality, I need a drink.”
Jason poured my triple Jack, but not before giving me an exasperated look. My cousin asked for a whiskey sour. I dropped a fiver in the Solo cup he was using for tips as we left Jason to his duties.
“So, why the need to get drunk?” Anne-Marie asked as we moved away from the bar.
“Nothing special,” I lied. “Just didn't want to get too far behind everyone else.”
“No one's going anywhere,” my cousin said. She was just a little too wise for her age, twenty-one and handing out a nickels worth of advice.
I decided to change the subject. I didn't really want to discuss my sexual hangups with her. We were close, but not that close. Beside, it wasn't as if I really had anything to be hung up about. So far, it was all in my head, my crazy, mixed-up head.
“So, how's school going?” I said.
“Not bad. I'll be graduating in May, assuming I can finish one simple project in the next three months.”
“Any jobs lined up?”
“My friend, Nicky's doing an internship at a small firm downtown, and she said they may be hiring soon. I'll get a resume to them, see what happens. Til then, I'm waiting tables at Luigi's.”
For the next half hour or so, my cousin and I sat on the folded up workout mats and caught up. Like my friend, Keith, she was also supposed to be working tonight; unlike him, though, her skipping out wouldn't cripple the restaurant.
She was really looking forward to graduating and kept gushing on about how much she appreciated her uncle, my father, lending her the couple grand she needed to finish.
From the living room, we heard the sounds of Issac putting on the Prince CD and just about everyone started cheering and dancing, and causing a general ruckus.
“I gotta go mingle some more,” I said to my cousin. “Don't leave without saying goodbye.”
“Night's still young, cuz. I'm not going anywhere soon.”
I left Anne-Marie sitting on the mat, sipping her drink, and headed out and down the hall to the living room.
It was a sea of humanity, or at least it felt that way. About fifteen or so people crowded together dancing to the beat of early 80's funk rock. I was scanning the crowd when my gaze fell on Jennifer. My wife is a good dancer. She has a nice, trim body, and she knows how to move it. I, on the other hand, am not, so I just enjoy watching her. When we're at a party or a bar and Jennifer wants to dance, I do my best swaying and stepping to the beat, like a clumsy white guy and just watch her. She has a natural way of letting the music take her over and moving with the rhythm. She is a beauty to watch, her long black hair flowing in counter to her lovely swaying hips, and that was what I was doing now, watching.
But my wife wasn't alone in the dancing area. I wasn't surprised to find she was dancing with Carl. He, too, was natural, smooth and in time. I didn't really think all black people were great dancers, but Carl was. His hips were moving, left and right, to the beat of the music. His hands, idly resting on Jennifer's waist.
For her part, my wife seemed to be off in her own world. Her eyes were closed, head bouncing up and down, her body writhing slowly and sinuously. Occasionally she would grind her ass against Carl's groin. I don't think she was doing it on purpose, but she seemed to be forgetting she wasn't dancing with her husband. Although, again, it was just a dance, it still felt oddly arousing to watch. The chemistry between them was visible and very disconcerting – sparking a green flame of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. It was just a dance, I told myself. They're not fucking. My body wasn't listening.
I should be the one dancing with my wife, even if I could hardly keep a beat. And therein lay the problem. I sucked at dancing and I know my wife would never say it, but I could tell she would prefer to, every once in a while, have a partner who could keep up. Why would I deny her that? Tonight, Carl was that partner. And for a third time, I told myself, it's only dancing, two handsome bodies moving in time to music. My wife was having a great time with a friend, so who was I to get upset.
I had just settled my over-active imagination down when Issac decided to give the crowd a break and slow things down with a little Edwin McCain.
The first notes of “I'll Be” started playing and the mood of the room changed from frantic to sensual. Some couples decided to take a break, three or four didn
't, Carl and Jennifer among them.
Carl pulled her close and my wife instinctively put her arms around his neck. Her eyes remained closed and she let her partner lead, her body moving with his.
I couldn't help but feel a bit distraught. Was I the only one seeing this? My wife dancing so close, so erotically, with another man. These were my friends, our friends, relatives and co-workers. I was starting to get a little embarrassed.
I looked around and to my relief, no one else seemed to be paying them much attention. As I was scanning the room, my gaze was caught by José, my best bud from college. He waved and smiled. I was kinda worried he'd notice my wife, making time with someone other than me, and start to rib me about it.
I looked over at Jennifer and noticed she was leaning her head against his shoulder. As I watched, she opened her eyes and seemed to notice what she was doing. She stopped dancing and politely pulled herself away from Carl. She smiled and said something I couldn't hear over the music. Carl smiled back and turned to head for the kitchen. I wasn't sure where he was going. I thought about my wife following, and my mind started spinning with all the nasty possibilities of what they might do, a million jealous, painful, erotic thoughts pulsing through my brain. Instead of realizing she shouldn't be enjoying rubbing up against another man, she decided she wanted more. Maybe she was slipping away for a more private dance, maybe sneaking downstairs, or worse, to our bedroom. In my imagination, she was down on her knees before him, her bright red lips wrapped around his erect ebon cock – a monster cock, twelve inches long, stretching her mouth out obscenely.
My jealous descent into cuckoldry was stopped when Jennifer caught me looking at her and started heading my way. Her lips were mouthing the words to the music as she moved, her gaze locked on mine. I meekly smiled back, embarrassed at my stupidity. I really needed to get myself under control.
“Your wife's a real looker, dude,” a man's voice said from behind me. It was José.
“Hey, que pasa, mi amigo,” I said, reaching out to give my college buddy a big hug.
“Mismo viejo,” he said back.
“English. I've exhausted my non-food related Spanish vocabulary.”
“Same old, amigo. You really need to work on that.”
“José!” my wife said, joining us. She gave my friend a soft kiss on the cheek. “You enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah, you two can really throw a great party. Bueno fiesta. - learn it, Michael.”
“It's all Jen,” I said, wrapping my arms protectively around my wife. “She's the organizer.”
“Comes with the military training,” she said, giving me a more intimate kiss on the lips. “but thanks.”
It felt reassuring, this close, loving contact, after my jealousy fueled flight of erotic imagination. The three of us chatted a bit. José and I were inseparable during college, but no matter how he tried, I never picked up any of the Spanish he peppered his conversation with. We tried to keep in touch after graduation, but failed. He moved out west, so we only saw him once or twice a year, usually at our party.
He had gone into real estate and was doing quite well. Recently his commissions had taken a hit, but he figured that would turn around soon. He had just gotten back from spending Christmas with his mother's family in the Dominican Republic. He'd be in town a few days, then it was off to Spain to visit his grandmother, or abuela, on his father's side.
“So, you meet anyone special, yet?” my wife asked.
“Nah. I like playing around too much.”
“Who wants to be tied down to one woman,” I said. “Ouch.” Jennifer had given me a playful, yet firm, punch in the arm.
“So, you think I'm tying you down?” she said with a silly smile. “We wouldn't want that.”
I gave her a quick peck on the cheek before she could turn to go. “Love you dear,” I said to her back as she walked away. She just waved her hand at me.
We didn't say anything, my buddy and I, while we watched her go. Her nice taut ass looking so tempting in her tight jeans.
“You should be careful,” José said. “You don't want that to get away.”
As if she could hear what my friend said, she looked our way and blew a kiss. I wasn't sure if it was meant for me or him.
“See, she's fine. We love to play around.”
“Seguro?”
“Huh?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. I was thinking about my hangups, but quickly pushed them aside. “I love her, she loves me. I'm not worried.” I hope I said that with more conviction than I actually had. I wasn't absolutely sure, my recent dirty thoughts were testament to that, and she was heading in the direction that Carl had disappeared in. I downed my drink.
“I need a refill. You coming?”
José and I went back to the bar. After I got another whiskey, single shot this time, I introduced him to a few people he hadn't meet at previous parties.
“Crystal. You haven't met my friend José yet, have you?” I said to the short curvy red-head who had recently been hired at the law firm Jennifer worked at. She was almost, but not quite, five and a half feet tall, with shocking red – almost orange – colored hair.
“I'm sure I would have remembered if I had,” she said, looking my buddy up and down with her piercing green eyes registering her approval.
“Hola, mucho gusto,” José said as he took her hand and kissed it.
Crystal's freckles almost sparkled as a blush burst forth on her face, the red spreading from her round cheeks down between her bountiful bosom, visible through the V-neck sweater she wore.
“I don't know what that means,” Crystal said, “but keep talking.”
“The ladies are always putty in your hands when you break out the Spanish,” I said to José. “I'll just leave you two alone then.”
“Thanks.” “Gracias,” both Crystal and José spoke at the same time.
Knowing how to take a hint, specially when I was hit over the head with it, I left to see how the rest of our quests were doing.
For the most part, everyone seemed to be having a good time. The music and conversation was lively. The food was good; hard to mess up cold-cuts and chips. And no one seemed too drunk thanks to our impromptu bartender, Jason.
It was around 10:30 when I noticed I hadn't seen Jennifer in a while. I was in the dining room helping one of my wife's other co-workers fix a plate of food. I looked around and noticed Jennifer wasn't there. I glanced in the living room and saw several people dancing, a few sitting on the couch chatting. No wife in sight. I also notice no Carl.
I was determined to remain cool, if only on the outside. No one else at the party needed to know my fear. I didn't want to ruin anyone else's good time with my, so far, irrational hangups.
Inside, I was panicking. I kept telling myself that I trusted my wife, she had never given me a reason not to. At the same time, my wild imagination kept picturing them dancing - first apart, fast, frenzied and very erotic, then slow and sexy and sensual.
My nasty mind edited out the part where my wife broke off the dancing. Instead it cut straight to my wet dream, the once faceless and pale skinned Carl now with an identity. My wife was naked and laying out on our bed. Carl, also without clothing, was nestled between her open legs, his hips thrusting, his unseen, but obviously enormous cock giving my wife pleasure I just couldn't compete with. I was nervous and jealous. I knew I wasn't happy about it, but I could not deny the fact that I was getting hard thinking about it. I was glad everyone seemed to be having a good time and not noticing the erection that was forming in my pants.
I quickly made my way to the workout room slash bar. Jason was there merrily pouring drinks, his tip cup bursting with ones and fives. It was going to be a very lucrative party for him. I saw Linda and Ted, he had a beer while she had what I assumed was sprite or club soda. I asked if they had seen Jennifer recently. They both shook their heads, no. I didn't ask them about Carl.
I was hesitant to go to the Ma
ster Bedroom, but I did. It was empty, just the pile of jackets and coats on the bed, not my wife and her lover fucking. I was kinda relieved, but still worried about not finding them. The bathroom door was closed. I could have knocked or tried the handle to see if it was locked. To see if anyone was in there. I couldn't hear anything – no moans of pleasure. I was really afraid to check, afraid of what I might find. My darkest fears realized. I had one or two more options before I checked this room.
I went out back, to the smoking deck. There is where I found them. Well, I found Carl. He was standing with José and they both were chatting up Crystal. She was simply beaming with the attention. Her eyes darting back and forth between the two handsome dark skinned men.
If she was interested, I'm sure she could have had either one of them – or both. Either way it was a relief. Carl was José's problem now.
The need to find Jennifer lost its urgency and I noticed my need to pee badly. I went back to the bathroom attached to the master bedroom. The door was still closed so I knocked.
“Occupied,” came the sing song voice of my lovely wife. I was so glad I had waited to knock. I knew she was alone now. Carl was on the patio.
I was so ashamed of doubting her, so ashamed of thinking she would invite another man into our home and fuck him. I was an idiot, but my cock was still hard, whether from arousing thoughts or the need to relieve my bladder didn't matter.
“I'll use the guest bath, love,” I said.
Unfortunately it was also occupied. Fuck, I really, really had to pee. The alcohol and the tension needed to be released. I made an executive decision to do something I hadn't done since freshman year of college. I snuck out the side door and went to pee into the bushes by the front porch. There was no one around, all the activity was inside and it was a little nippy.
Our front porch light was on, but I was shield by the foliage. No one could see me unless they either walked past me up our driveway or were on the porch looking down with a flashlight. Both scenarios were unlikely.
And even if they did find me, it was my house, my bushes, I could pee on them if I wanted. So I pulled out my penis and started pissing. God, did it feel good, almost like cumming – long and steady. Steam started rising from the warm urine exposed to the chill December air. When I was done, I tucked myself back in my pants and turned to sneak back inside.
