The Hobby Job: A Romantic Wife-Watching Novel

by Arnica Butler

  R ELIEF

  LAURA

  A strange thing had happened to me, since that night with Conrad.

  Well, for one thing, he had fucked me in a way he hadn't for a long time. Like a man who wanted to possess me.

  I thought long and hard about it that night. Why I liked it so much. There had been a period of time when I did, at the beginning of our relationship. And then oddly, a period of time when that kind of sex just pissed me off a little. I mean jesus, we were parents now. Almost forty. No one possessed anyone.

  It felt strange to be back where I had been, in my late twenties. Wanting Conrad to think about me that way. His jealousy was so evident inside of him. Inside his veins like a hot liquid, making him say and do things I hadn't seen him do or say for a long time. Making him look at me in a way that was…

  What was it?

  I hated to admit it, but more animal.

  God. So much for fucking feminism.

  So there was that. I liked the new, hungry Conrad. The Conrad who had something to burn at him. His jealousy seeped through his skin right into me and made me heat up like I hadn't in a long time.

  Before we talked about it, I had felt like I was playing a very dangerous game. I knew when I stayed out late he was getting jealous. I knew he was thinking about what I was doing, and I knew he saw in my eyes that I had someone else on my mind.

  And it was true. I did. I thought about Nate and I thought about him in sexual ways.

  And all the time, I told myself I was really trying to hide that fact from Conrad.

  After we talked about though, after he fucked my brains out like that, I realized that I had been lying to myself. I hadn't been hiding it all.

  I mean, we had been married for so long now, We knew each other. Conrad knew something was on my mind, and he knew it had to do with sex, and he was no idiot.

  And I had liked it.

  I had liked seeing it inside of him. Finally. Interest, really deep interest.

  But the thoughts that something very, very wrong was happening had been there with me, too.

  So now, it felt good to have cleared the air. To have admitted to each other what we were really thinking.

  And once that had happened, I started thinking about Nate differently.

  Not as some secret affair I could have – and truth be told, I was never really thinking of him like that, anyway. I had always imagined our secret affair, if I allowed myself a realistic fantasy, to be something I just nearly avoided. We would get close but it wouldn't happen. I was high on the angst, the tension – not the actual thing.

  But now, now I was getting off on a different kind of tension. Conrad's jealousy, Conrad's thoughts. The idea of actually going through with it – of actually having sex with Nate. But not like before, where it would be because we just couldn't hold ourselves (me and Nate) back from our mutual attraction. Now it was having sex with Nate for Conrad, so Conrad could watch it, so Conrad could get his fantasies indulged.

  And something about that idea was - and this was really surprising because I'd never once thought about something like that before – incredibly erotic.

  I had told Conrad, more or less, that I didn't want to go all the way. That was mostly true when I said it, and mostly because I wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. Who can really know about another person? What they're really thinking, whether they really have the feelings they say they have? You throw another person in there and it gets messy.

  It was better just to leave it, the way I had intended to leave it when it was just Nate and me, as a fantasy. A thing I got close to, flirted with, and then avoided.

  That was best for everyone involved.

  A quiet voice in my head always stirred when I had these thoughts.

  For now, it whispered.

  O NLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT

  CONRAD

  It was a cold night. My hands were stinging from the biting wind. I had found a pack of cigarettes in Laura's pocket – not a brand she would buy, if she ever bought them, and so I was guessing they were someone else's. I had balked a little when I pulled into the Pied Piper parking lot.

  This had been Laura's idea.

  “You should come by,” she had said, mischievously. “Come by and see things in action. Would you like that?” She had been holding my cock in her hand, her body lying on top of mine. Of course I had liked the idea at the time. Of course it had seemed like the most incredible turn-on at the time.

  But now, I wondered if it wasn't a bad idea. It could be going over some line, just a little too far. And then, what if I liked it?

  What if I wanted more?

  What if Laura liked it?

  What if Laura wanted more?

  What if we didn't feel the same way?

  The cigarette burned my throat. God. So bad.

  I looked back at the car.

  I had already paid for a baby-sitter.

  The inside of the bar was neon-warm and the music, muffled through the walls of the building, didn't seem all that bad.

  I caught a glimpse of Laura through the window. At first I didn't realize it was her. She looked so young. Her hair was in a ponytail and it bounced as she leaned against an empty chair with her knee on it. She twirled a pen in her hand. She smiled, and tucked the pen behind her ear. Nodded enthusiastically. Laughed again, and was off, swinging her hips.

  I tossed the cigarette, half-finished, and headed into the restaurant. There was only one way to find out.

  A NEW THRILL

  LAURA

  When I first asked Conrad to stop by, the idea that was in my mind was that he would stop by as my husband. He would sit at the bar, I'd say hello to him, I'd introduce him to Nate, so he could see him first-hand.

  And then, it was like we both got the idea at the same time, but we never said anything to each other. We just kind of lit up, and grinned, and we shared this sexy, crackling moment.

  It was probably the most sexy thing that I had felt since this whole thing started, and I don't even know how to explain that to myself. Just the idea, lingering in the air, between us. The idea of him coming in, sitting down, pretending not to know me. And watching me flirt.

  Had we shared the same idea? I guess so. Things were getting strange now, but pleasantly strange. Strange like we could get the same idea, and share it, without having to actually say it.

  Or did we have the same idea? I don't know. I don't know if it was the same thing that was turning me on as it was for Conrad.

  But the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.

  I didn't like liking the idea, that was the thing. It seemed like there were so many ways it could wrong. How could I trust that Conrad wasn't just saying all of this to entrap me? Or because he wanted to save face?

  I didn't want to do anything that was actually over the line.

  So this was perfect.

  And it was hot.

  It was hot from the moment we thought of it, and it was hot all day while I imagined it happening. I found myself excited at work, waiting for him, looking at the door every time it opened. It had been a long time since I felt any kind of desire like that. Excitement, at just the idea of seeing him.

  And it felt good to be feeling this about Conrad, instead of Nate.

  Even if it sort of had to do with Nate. It had shifted a little, back into the sphere of our marriage.

  Every swing of the door made my heart fly to my throat and then fall.

  And then I saw him.

  He was standing in the parking lot. Smoking.

  God. For a second I thought he was going to give up, Decide he didn't want to do it.

  But then he crossed the parking lot.

  His eyes were set on something. On me. An obsessive, possessive look. A look I hadn't seen for a long time. My pulse raced. I was practically shaking. I took an order and went into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror.

  “Calm the fuck down, Laura. Or it won't be any fun.”

 
But I have to confess. It was the kind of adrenaline, the kind of excitement, that comes from doing something illicit, something new, and I hadn't felt it for a long time. I hadn't even dreamed I was ever going to feel it again with Conrad.

  So to say I was deliberating about it would be a lie.

  I was hooked.

  When I walked out, he was already at the bar. I decided to give the whole thing my all. I didn't look at him. I strode into the kitchen, and looked around for Nate. I wanted to turn up the heat on the flirting now, and it wasn't because I really wanted to flirt with Nate this time.

  This time, it was because I wanted to make Conrad's blood boil.

  “You got somebody at the bar,” I said, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. I spun around, popping an ice cube into my mouth.

  Nate watched me. He was watching my mouth. A thrill went through me. Not so much because I was having any serious thoughts about Nate as a real affair, but because I thought of him now as an affair for Conrad's entertainment.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I'll just deliver these wilted salads to five...”

  “I can do it,” I said. I took a bowl and slid my fingers under the one he was holding, touching his hand, lingering for a moment with all of the electricity between us. He tapped my finger with his and tucked his money book into his apron. “Thanks,” he said.

  I smiled. I wanted him good and flirtatious for Conrad. Casting his eyes in my direction as much as I could entice him to do.

  A shiver of excitement ran through me, and as I swung through the door, I had to ask myself what it was.

  W ATCHING

  CONRAD

  It wasn't as if there were a lot of people working at the Pied Piper to confuse him with, but it was as though the air sort of rippled when he came through the door of the kitchen. First Laura, pushing the door with her back, holding some salads in her hands. Her face was bright, her mouth open in a big smile. They were talking as they pushed through the door to the kitchen, and the sight of him – the real him, not Laura's rendition of him – sent a cold pulse through my veins. And then it turned warm. I felt my cock coming to life just watching this minor scene, one that probably played out a million times a day.

  He was tall, and young. Athletically built – definitively the same hard torso I'd seen in the car. His arms were muscled, and his hands looked strong. I remembered Laura mentioning now that he liked to go climbing. His hair was a little mopish, his eyes charming. He had the face of a funny-man, I would know because that had been me.

  His mouth was moving, a wry smile on his lips. His eyes were on Laura like glue, watching for her reaction, hoping to make her laugh. Hoping to make her come back for more jokes, and then something else.

  Laura laughed. Her laugh broke apart and echoed around the room. Light. Carefree and really delighted. She fluttered her eyes.

  And then he reached out, and touched her.

  Nowhere obscene. On her wrist. “Thanks,” he said.

  And she spun around, looking over her shoulder, casting her most flirtatious smile back at him.

  I would know. She had reeled me in with it.

  His eyes lingered on her when she strode away. Lingered, I could tell by their half-lidded, slow blink – on her ass. Involuntarily, I gave a small turn in my chair to look at Laura retreating, and admired her ass – round and cute, maybe a little smaller since she had started working here, and perfectly molded into her jeans. Her ponytail bobbed as she walked briskly down the aisle with the salads aloft.

  Nate was walking toward me.

  “Good evening sir, welcome to the Pied Piper. What can I do you for?”

  Funny guy.

  No look of recognition or suspicion crossed his face. My blood was racing, hot and cold, hardening my arteries. I could feel my heart tapping at my chest. Something inside me took over. An impulse.

  “Any chance I can get her-” Laura, I moved my head in the direction she had gone, and let my voice drip with lechery, “to wait on me?”

  I had seated myself at the edge of the bar area, as Laura had advised me to do to get the best view of as much of the restaurant as possible, and to get Nate as my waiter. I would need to order food, or the tight-lipped bartender with eighties bangs who was frowning at every order the waiters left for her, would take over.

  He tapped his pencil on an order book and smiled. We shared a leering, knowing, locker-room smile. He nodded. “I'm...disappointed I'm not good-looking enough for you,” he joked. A tough joke to make right, but he flew it well. He scrunched up one side of his face. “I'll see what I can do. Beer, meanwhile?”

  “Something easy-drinking.”

  “Cheap or expensive?”

  I could see what Laura liked about him. He was funny, he was sharp, he was suave. He wasn't giving off any adolescent asshole vibe.

  His eye was caught by something behind me, and I knew it was Laura. Her ponytail bobbing, she passed us again, and my heart rate jumped. I hoped it wasn't obvious. My face felt flushed.

  I wondered how she was going to play it.

  She put out an arm, and touched Nate on the bicep. I looked at her hand – my wife's hand – on his arm. She gave it a little squeeze. She leaned close to him, far closer than she needed to. “Six needs another pitcher of Coors,” she said. She squeezed his arm, and I watched her fingers against his skin. She moved her pointer finger a little, to stroke his flesh.

  I could feel my pulse quicken by tens of beats per minute, and blood was flushing my face. As she walked away, she let her arm drop to his forearm, and slide away.

  Nate turned, and gave her a quick glance as she retreated. His face was slightly bemused. When he looked back at me he raised his eyebrows, almost as though to apologize.

  For a second it almost stopped my heart, but then I realized it was just an exchange of one-upmanship, and he was trying not to look like too big of a jerk. What can I do? He seemed to be saying. The ladies love me.

  I leaned to watch Laura's retreating figure, and for a moment she looked nothing like my wife. It was almost as if I could see her through Nate's eyes. She looked young, the way she had looked when I met her, as she skipped away.

  “Little old for you, no?” I ventured, when Nate returned with my beer. “The waitress.”

  Nate turned to the dining room, where Laura was serving a large table with another waiter.

  He leaned on the bar. “Dude,” he said, and I almost laughed at how young he suddenly seemed. “That girl? Is like thirty-eight. She's married.” He looked at me, expecting an expression of disbelief. I gave him one, and my cock stirred as he said the word married.

  “No shit,” I said. “Sorry. I thought you had a little something -”

  Nate shook his head. Then he sucked on his lower lip.

  I was pleased to hear this, I have to admit. A tiny ping of disappointment came with it, but mostly I was relieved that Laura's confession had been accurate. There was also a tiny pang of guilt for suspecting my wife of doing something she hadn't, even after she had talked to me about it.

  Nate gave a quick glance around the dining room, to confirm Laura wasn't listening, and added, “Not yet.”

  And then this kid winked at me.

  I popped a peanut into my mouth. Laura paraded by, shaking her hips. She gave me no notice, but when she reached the door, she turned to push it open with her back.

  That's when she gave me the look. The same look that Eliza gave to Troy, so many years ago. The same look that had been in my mind for so long, burning through me. The look I had fantasized about and kept as a secret.

  It actually shook me. I gave a shudder, and Nate's eyebrows came together in momentary concern or confusion. I tapped my beer, as though to blame it.

  “Beer okay?” he said.

  “Just cold.” I was barely able to get my words out. Laura's complicit, flirtatious look still had a grip on the air in my lungs.

  Nate tapped the banister. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said. And he disappea
red into the kitchen, where I knew he would go and find Laura.

  I drank three “enormous” beers and picked at an order of haggis and mashed turnips while I sat there, watching them. I was so absorbed by Laura and her swinging ponytail, her youthful laughter, and her ostentatious flirting with Nate, that I ate some of the haggis without even tasting it. I'm told this is some feat.

  I was grateful that a TV was on the wall to give me something to appear absorbed by, and to escape the hawkish and angry gaze of Sherry. Laura had warned me about her, and even in the state I was in, I found her so severe she was funny.

  There were times in the evening when the two of them would disappear from the flow of constant traffic in and out of the kitchen. I felt sure this had been planned by Laura, and that she had asked to bum a cigarette out back, knowing that I would sit there, my eyes on the swinging kitchen door, my heart racing. That my mind would begin to imagine delicious and terrible things in the back room: Laura with her hands against the wall, bent over, guiding his cock to her dripping cunt with one eye on the open pantry door. Smiling as he slid inside of her.

  But she would reappear. The second time she disappeared and came back, she exited the swinging doors smiling, beaming her wicked little smile right to me. She reached up to her lips and swiped at the corner of her mouth.

  Very seriously. With a cruelly sweet smile.

  She did it so artfully. The same way she would wipe a drop of cum from her mouth.

  She knew what she was doing.

  I sucked in my breath and let the sensation wash over me. Then I turned to the television and tried to distract myself, to calm my aching erection. But my mind went straight to envisioning her on her knees, with the waiter's big cock – for surely it was big? - filling her mouth full of cum. I imagined her smile, as she slurped it all off of him, and he stood there, breathless, thinking to himself how experience really did count for something...and then I imagined her walking out the door, realizing, by the bitter taste in the corner of her mouth, that she had been just ever-so-sloppy.