Human Interest: A Lead-In To Wife Watching

by Arnica Butler

  Josh cocked his head. “Come on, Rachel.”

  She stood up.

  He reminded her. “You just admitted to it.”

  She shook her head.

  “Why are you getting so upset, Rachel?”

  She looked up at the ceiling. She was shaking her hands. “Aggh!” she yelled suddenly. “I don't know!”

  Josh wasn't sure what was coming over his wife. She began to undress suddenly, and she threw her clothes in the corner. “I have to go take a shower!” she shouted at him, and she went out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the guest bathroom.

  17: A LONG LUNCH

  The week had gone by as though the auction day had never happened. At least between her and Josh, and her and Xavier.

  Josh didn't mention the auction, or their conversation about her sleeping with another man, again. And neither did she, even though she wanted to.

  She had stayed up that night, feigning a need to work. It surprised her that Josh didn't come to her to talk about what had just happened.

  Xavier didn't say anything about the auction at all. Not on Monday, when they interviewed residents about snakes coming into their flooded basements by the river. Not on Wednesday, when they were sent to talk to people opposing a new park design in their neighborhood because it looked like a swastika on the blueprints (it didn't).

  Everything was so normal it finally drove her crazy, and she asked Xavier to lunch on Saturday.

  No, that wasn't quite accurate.

  Josh had maybe forgotten all about it, or decided to ignore it.

  Xavier had perhaps thought it wasn't going to happen.

  But Rachel was unable to get it out of her mind all week.

  It was hard to know how to bring it up with Josh. Over breakfast? “Honey, about that swinging thing...”

  She also managed to push that evening out of her own mind. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Josh's admission was not the one she had expected, and she didn't know how she felt about it. It was almost as if he were giving her permission to do what she wanted with Xavier. But something about it set her so ill-at-ease that she couldn't quite even summon it to her conscious thoughts. When it surfaced in her mind, she pushed it away for another day or time.

  Why, after all, would he want to see her with another man? What did that mean about their marriage, about his feelings about her?

  Rachel also didn't want to admit it, even to herself, but she was looking forward to walking the line between inappropriate and appropriate. To being so close to something forbidden. Maybe that's why she didn't tell Josh about lunch right away.

  She thought about what she would wear. She bought a new dress.

  She didn't tell Josh about it.

  She bought new underwear.

  She had bought them at the same time as the dress. That was how she justified it to herself. She wasn't buying them for Xavier, or because she imagined Xavier seeing her in them.

  It was all just a fantasy.

  She had the feeling that she wading out into water. That maybe she had taken one tiny step too far. But she could still feel the ground underneath her. She hadn't really done anything.

  Buying underwear, new underwear, was not the same as sleeping with someone.

  Thinking about someone was not the same as fucking someone.

  Making a reservation at a restaurant in a hotel was not quite over the line. It was a good restaurant, after all. People ate there all the time, even if they didn't stay at the hotel. Good restaurants were hard to come by in this hog-town.

  She had dropped the date on Josh casually, at the last minute. She had chosen Sunday, to make it seem less auspicious. More friendly. Less “sexual” than a Saturday. “Oh yeah, I have that..lunch 'thing' with Xavier today.”

  And Josh had responded casually. “Oh. Okay. I'll go to the gym or something.”

  And then she had told Xavier to meet her there.

  It might have been true that she spent a lot of time in the lobby bathroom, perfecting her makeup. That her stomach was twisting like she was going on a first date. That her mind had to be constantly reeled back from the thoughts of Xavier's body, what it must look like, what it would feel like if she pressed her palms against his solid chest.

  But it was all still fantasy.

  It might have been true that she arrived early and waited for him breathlessly.

  “Nice place,” Xavier said, sitting down.

  “It's the least I could do,” Rachel said nervously. Her voice felt as though something had grabbed it and squeezed it. The whole, elaborate tableau seemed ridiculous to her suddenly: her underwear, her dress, the hotel. She was playing with fire. She even looked a little desperate.

  What was she doing?

  “You're payin' though, right?” Xavier chuckled. “You know, you could have just as easily taken me to McDonald's, and I'd've been cool with that.” He shook out his white napkin and set it onto his lap.

  Rachel felt the same release of tension that she so often felt with Xavier. He set her at ease so...effortlessly.

  Then, he set his elbows on the table and pushed his right hand into his left. His eyes burned over his knuckles and Rachel had to look away.

  “Funny thing, though,” Xavier said.

  “What's that?” Rachel asked nervously, shaking her own napkin open and placing it on her lap. She kept her eyes on the window as though something outside fascinated her.

  “Oh, just the auction.”

  Rachel dared to look back at him, and immediately wished she hadn't. His eyes were right where she had left them, hovering over his closed fists and burning into her own. She felt something cool in her stomach and her breath was uneven.

  “What about it?” she said, trying to sound casual. She almost knew what he would answer, and she didn't want to hear him say it, but she also did.

  “Oh, it's just unusual that a man would let his wife get auctioned off like that. After she said she was uncomfortable with it. Almost like...” Xavier pressed his thumbnail to his lower lip, and gave a dramatic pause. Then he pointed his thumb toward her. “Like he wanted to auction you off, or something.”

  Rachel felt her whole body fill with a sensation she had never felt before and had no idea how to name.

  Arousal? It had the feel of it. Her ears were filled with a tinny ring, and she was sure she could feel the artery in her neck. She felt a stain of pink creeping up the side of her face.

  She knew, of course, that Xavier was right.

  What she didn't know is whether or not it bothered her that he knew. Did it bother her that he saw what her husband wanted, and that the two of them were enjoying implicitly passing her between them, as a piece of meat to be used?

  It should bother her. She wanted it to bother her.

  But the feeling between her legs was not of being bothered.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  She had no idea what to say.

  “I told you maybe you should just talk to the man. See what he says. Seems to me he may have a different reaction than you would expect.”

  Rachel looked down at her plate. Her voice was small when she said, “I already did. Well, kind of. I...”

  Xavier leaned back in his chair and waited for her.

  She turned back to him. “Um...so what, you think he...?”

  Xavier smiled ta her. “I think he gets off on the idea of you having an affair,” he said plainly. “And I think I get off on the idea. And I think...” he leaned forward. “you do, too.” He placed a hand on her chin. She was powerless to move.

  “Am I right about that?” he said.

  It was all true. He was right about all of it.

  So what was the problem, then?

  If everyone was okay with it, then what was stopping her?

  “You're probably thinking, 'why would my husband want to see me with another man?'” Xavier dropped his hand. “You want me to tell you?”

  Rachel had no idea what she wanted him to do.
She had no idea what she wanted to do. Half of her wanted to run away.

  “I'll tell you from my experience,” Xavier said. His voice was smooth and almost soothing. “I like to see Tyra with other men. I like to watch.”

  Rachel scrunched up her nose. This was too much.

  “You can't be serious.”

  Xavier tisked, and held up a finger to wag. “Now, just hear me out.”

  Rachel pressed her lips together, but she was feeling altogether too weird about what he was saying to believe she would “hear him out” for real. This was too much. Too...unorthodoxed. Having an affair was one thing, but this was...too weird.

  “I love Tyra. She's the only woman for me. But we've decided there's no denying that sexual attraction gets...well, a little dull after so many years. And that people start thinking about other partner – now, see, Rachel, you're rolling your eyes, but you can't pretend like you're not attracted to me, can you?”

  She rolled her eyes more. “I don't see what this has to do with -”

  Xavier held up his finger. “It has to do with Josh like this: I like seeing Tyra with other men because she does it for me. She does it all with my permission. It's like...I don't know how to explain it, an extension of our marriage, not something outside of it.”

  Rachel's mouth was hanging open, and she couldn't will it close. Her cheeks burned. Her stomach twisted.

  “Yeah, but that...that doesn't actually work,” she finally said meekly.

  Xavier unclasped his hands, shrugged, and then punched them back together again. “No? So if I say it works just fine, you aren't going to believe it?”

  Rachel shook her head. “No, I just...” she looked back at Xavier. “You might say anything,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, “because you're just trying to get in my pants.”

  Xavier paused, and rather than lightening the mood, his stare turned the air between them to crackling electricity.

  “I am doing that,” he admitted.

  The sensation of seasick, heated lust was so strong in Rachel's chest that she couldn't take her next breath. What would it be like to give in, and just let a man like Xavier, who said things like this, have his way with her? He must be as direct, as dominating, as delicious in bed as his words were out of bed.

  Josh had already admitted that he wanted this.

  She wanted it.

  Xavier wanted it.

  Tyra didn't care.

  Everyone was okay with this.

  She felt like her thoughts had to make their way through mud.

  She just didn't quite believe Josh was into this. How could he be?

  Her heart was racing.

  Surely there would be a price to pay for this.

  “There's always a...price to pay,” she said. Her voice was almost strangled.

  “Maybe.” Xavier was cool, collected. His confidence was permeating her exterior, convincing her to be confident that it would all work out.

  He was seducing her.

  “No, always!” she wanted to scream. There was always a price to pay, and she didn't want to be some dumb woman who let a man talk her into what she knew to be true.

  But did she believe that?

  Xavier pressed his lips together. Rachel watched the white stain of pressure dissipate into his dark coloring.

  “Ball's in your court, Rachel Elliot.”

  The waiter, who had only taken their drink order, returned to the table. He flinched as he perceived the quiet stare-down taking place between them. Evidently he had mistaken their silence for a good time to take their order, and now regretted it. He cleared his throat. “Can I...get you started with an appetizer?”

  Xavier un-wove his fingers from each other and then wove them back together again, without breaking eye contact with Rachel. He raised his eyebrows.

  Everybody wants this, Rachel thought.

  “I think,” she said, and her voice seemed smaller than it had ever been. “We'll just have the drinks, after all.”

  There. That was neutral.

  She still had options.

  She could leave the restaurant, walk into the adjacent hotel, get a room, and finally engage in her fantasy.

  Or, she could still get out of here. Tell Xavier this was all a bad idea.

  She felt hot on her neck, but didn't dare to move her hand and do anything about it.

  The waiter came with the check and she set her credit card down robotically.

  Xavier pressed his pointer fingers together and pointed them at her. “You,” he said, his fingers wagging, “still owe me lunch.”

  Rachel felt desire slither through her. It took control of her. She could feel it squeezing around her, taking over her body, pushing her mind away from her actions and her reservations. She loved the way Xavier moved his hands. She wanted to feel them on her own body.

  “You did win an auction.”

  “I did.”

  He was smiling now. Ordinarily, she might have thought this was smug. Instead, it only burrowed further inside of her, making the skin on her cheeks and the back of her neck turn scarlet with excitement. “Well, we better make sure you get what you paid for,” she said. She felt unsteady, almost like she was drunk.

  Xavier tapped on the bill, twice, and stood up. “Get that. I'll go get the room.”

  18: I DID IT

  Josh busied himself for the first part of the day by tidying the house. There was almost no tidying to be done, because the two of them were rarely at home, and they had no kids or pets, and the did have a cleaning lady. He cleaned out the fridge, focusing on the potential pathogens in the rotting take-out containers and calculating the risk of consuming them.

  This kept his mind occupied for about fifteen minutes.

  After that, he sat on the couch and sank into a fathomless paranoia.

  The conversation with Rachel after the auction had not gone as he had wanted it to.

  Of course, he knew that his desire to have Rachel turn to him sweetly and say, “Anything for you, darling, I would love to suck Xavier's cock right in front of you if that's what you want,” was...well, unrealistic.

  Still, he had hoped for something different.

  Then, she had announced that today was her lunch date with Xavier. She had locked herself in the master bedroom, and she exited an hour later, smelling faintly of a perfume she rarely wore. Josh had watched her from the dining room table, where he was pretending to be nonchalantly working. She was barely covered in a red dress. The fabric was expensive, and the deep hue, slightly brown, set off the dark chocolate of her eyes. The dress was conservative in shape, with no plunging neckline or backless drop-off, but it was short and tight-fitting. It was just a hair away from not being professional.

  Josh looked at her legs as though seeing them for the first time. They were lean and muscled: she went to the gym every day, and he had failed to take note of how good she looked. Her feet were tucked into a pair of very sexy shoes, identical in color to the dress. The higher-than usual heels made her calves taut and colt-like.

  The dress seemed new. He couldn't recall having ever seen it before.

  “New dress, huh?” he said, and his voice sounded accusatory, even though he didn't mean for it to.

  Rachel had tossed her hair, and affixed an earring to her ear.

  Then she had smiled.

  “Maybe,” she had said.

  She had then retreated to the bedroom, and come back with her purse, claiming to be late. She had kissed him briefly, and scurried out the door.

  It was this “maybe” that Josh found himself considering as he sat on the couch.

  What had she meant by her tone?

  Had he somehow pushed his wife over the edge? And if he had, had he meant to do that?

  And why did she have a new dress, the very next day, if she hadn't been planning to wear it all along to her lunch with Xavier?

  Perhaps she had not been as shocked when they talked about Xavier and Tyra, and Josh's desires, as she had pretended to
be.

  Maybe she had somehow planned for this all along.

  And then, after stewing in his paranoid thoughts for a good half hour, he got up and went to his laptop.

  He went to the fanclub website, where he read and re-read the comments and the posts, looked at the pictures and the video clips of his wife. He tortured himself with the website for a good while, and then he was back to thinking about Rachel right then. Rachel at lunch. Rachel at lunch with the man he wanted her to fuck.

  He couldn't tell what was gripping him: jealousy or lust? Desire or anger? His torso felt like a cauldron of emotions, all of them biting viciously at each other.

  His cock was hard, his stomach was cold with fear. He was sweating. He was compulsively looking at a fanpage for his wife, made by idiot adolescents, and getting off on their idiot adolescent, lewd comments.

  He slammed the laptop shut again, and went to take a shower.

  After he jerked off, thinking the entire time about Rachel sucking on Xavier's thumb while her body rocked beneath the thrusting mass of his body, he stood under the stream of water and closed his eyes.

  He was ridiculous.

  But it was nearly five pm before Rachel returned.

  He heard the click of the downstairs door. Her footsteps up the stairwell. He stood up, in an effort to look like he had been doing what he had been doing – namely nothing – all afternoon. He turned on the TV, and started to walk toward the kitchen, hoping she would see him headed there when she reached the top of the stairs. As though he were just getting a beer. Relaxing. Enjoying his afternoon.

  She stopped at the top of the stairs. Josh kept walking, turning to look at her as if he had just noticed her, as if he hadn't spent the whole afternoon like a wild animal, with his ears attuned to every little noise in the building, hoping it was her.

  Her voice was small but clear, like a fine crystal glass:

  “I did it.”

  Josh stopped cold in his tracks.

  The feeling that spread through him seemed to seep out of his limbs and into his core. It was a sensation he had never felt before. It was of some temperature that was either so hot it seemed cold, or the other way around. He felt weak and he felt strong.