Backstage Pass

by K T Morrison

  “We are old,” she said and laughed, “When I listened to them I was in high school.”

  “Getting old’s weird, huh?”

  They both laughed. There were things he noticed. She still kept her rump off the cushion seat with a heel tucked under the back of her thighs. She kept her arms folded a lot and leaned back from him. A body language expert might say she was keeping distance. Putting up a barrier. Words were divulging to him all the events like a normal person would, but there were events that she would keep hidden, he was sure of it. And that’s what this arm-folding thing was about.

  When she got to the final parts of the evening, her enthusiasm waned, but she told him about going out to another hotel and attending a party where some of Kid Rock’s crew was, but that she and Finn went back to their hotel not too long after.

  “And then what?”

  Lib licked her top lip, and Ben’s penis swelled a little, jiving off of her discretion here. Just tell me…

  “We went back to the hotel, and we went to sleep.”

  “You were able to sleep after all that? You weren’t all jazzed up?”

  She shrugged. “We were pretty tired. It was a long, long, long day...”

  “So you went to your separate rooms?”

  There was a flicker in her eyes, like her finely tuned sensors were picking up some sort of remote tremors, her isolated research base about to predict a faraway earthquake.

  She was slow to say, “We hung out a little bit. I just had a glass of water...”

  “Where was that?”

  “Finn’s room. And then I went straight to bed,” she said, and the arms folded across her chest tightened. He watched her fingertips crawl and then disappear under her armpits. She was protecting herself. She was only human. Look what he’d done to protect himself. Enlisted another man to seduce her…

  “I’m just so glad you were able to go, Lib, I swear.”

  “It actually was so much fun, Ben,” she said, wide smile returning, “it’s too bad you couldn’t go, but I’m so glad I went.”

  That sickened him a little. The hidden truth was being revealed. She cheated on him with another man and she wasn’t unhappy about it. Oh, Ben, the pleasure Finn’s huge penis delivered…

  “Good,” he said, his posture stiffening, his voice getting thin again. Then he reached to the table top and fumbled with the remote, hoping she wouldn’t catch how badly his hands were shaking...

  34

  They watched almost a full episode before Libby drifted off. She picked through the popcorn until she'd almost finished it, and he’d rubbed her feet. Touching the soles of her perfect little feet with his bare thumbs made him aroused. The idea that maybe just eighteen hours ago another man’s hands would’ve been all over his Libby was driving him wild. The fact that she hid it from him, making him wilder. She was just as bad as he was. He wanted all the details.

  His mind raced while she napped, coming up with ways to set this up. Ways for her to divulge to him the truth and feel supported at the same time. He wanted to hear it. He wanted to know about it all. And it wasn’t so much that he was eager for the absolution it would provide, he was eager to know if she had a good time with Finn or not. And not at the concert, my dear Libby, under the bed sheets... Did you like it with another man?...

  So while she slept, and he still rubbed her feet, he kept them removed halfway down his thigh to protect from her from feeling his full and complete arousal. He had a one hundred percent erection raging in his pants.

  When she was right out, he flipped over to the Avengers movie instead, so she wouldn’t miss their binge-watch. When she woke a little later, they went back to Game Of Thrones. She wanted to skip dinner. She wasn’t hungry, and she was tired. As the daylight began to wane, he became solemn. He wanted this to be over; he wanted her to reveal to him what had happened. Maybe it was too soon, but it was right there on the tips of both their tongues.

  I love you...

  I love you, too...

  Even though I did what I did?

  Yes...

  Even though I did what I did?

  Yes, baby, yes...

  At nine o’clock, with ghostly daylight hanging on to the early evening blue, they both went to bed. He settled in behind her and hooked an arm around her waist. But he couldn’t let it go...

  “So it was no big deal going with Finn?”

  “No,” she said limply, like she was letting it drop.

  He lifted his head from the pillow, could see past her ear that her eyes were open, staring across the room. He cuddled her a little closer. “What were you so worried about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You guys are just friends.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maybe he can take you away to another concert.”

  Now he watched her lick her own lips, suck her lower one underneath her front teeth and nibble down.

  “I’m so glad you went with him, Lib.”

  “I am, too,” she said, her voice dwindling down to a whisper.

  He waited for more. Dipped his hips away because boy, oh, boy that erection had come back again. He watched her eyes eventually close. And when she began to snore lightly, he was overwhelmed with disappointment.

  Part 6

  Half-Truths

  Monday, July 15

  35

  At three in the morning, he was woken by Libby’s body gently shaking. She was crying.

  He breathed deeply, opened his eyes wide, adrenaline beginning to race his mind awake. He stroked her shoulder, said, “What is it, Lib? What’s wrong?...”

  “Oh, God,” she murmured, like a little girl that had been caught. She sat up right away, and he sat up behind her, put his arms around her so she wouldn’t try to get away from him. She had her feet off the bed, hunched over, and he curled himself against her body. “What is it, Lib, what is it?”

  The soft crying opened into deepening sobs. She sniffed and snorted, and he consoled her. “I’m so sorry, Ben,” she mewled.

  “So sorry?—for what?” Here it was coming...

  “Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry...”

  “It’s okay, Lib, it’s okay...”

  She tried to draw a breath, but it grew too shaky; she let out a braying cry then clapped both hands over her mouth. In the low light he could see a teardrop twinkle as it fell from her eye and melted into the bedding. He pulled her against him. “Something happened?”

  He could feel her nodding in his arms.

  “It’s okay, Lib, it’s really okay...”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said and put the hand back over her mouth again.

  “Something happened with Finn?” She tried to squirm away from him but he gripped her tight. “Hey, hey, you’re not going anywhere. I’ll support you through anything, Lib, I love you so damn much...”

  Her body softened in his arms, all the fight and tension and struggle easing away from her. She sniffed, took a few deep breaths; he loosened his clutch, and she reared back a little so she could look at him. There was hope and surprise in her eyes. His compassion had affected her.

  He had her now. He loved her and he wanted her to know everything would be okay.

  “Libby, anything that happened, we can work it out. I swear…” He took her hand. It was lifeless. He ran his thumb over the backs of her knuckles and squeezed on her wedding ring.

  When she didn’t say anything more, her eyes going up and down his face and chest, he prompted her again: “Something happened with Finn?”

  She had to breathe through her mouth because crying had swollen her sinuses. She took a breath before saying, “Don’t be mad at him...”

  At him? “What did he do?” he asked and was surprised by a certain amount of venom there. A natural instinct to protect the girl he loved—even though he’d set the whole thing up.

  “It was weird...”

  “Lib, you can tell me.”

  “God, Ben,” she sighed, ran her hair behind an ear. “Tissue..
.” She gestured to the bedside table. He plucked one and handed it to her. She blew her nose, balled it up and kept it pressed in her weak fist. “Promise you won’t be mad at him...”

  “I swear I won’t, Lib. We can get through anything.”

  Again came that look of surprise. There was admiration there, too, some sort of respect that her husband could be so caring.

  He fortified her: “I mean it.”

  She drew a deep breath, said, “I think Finn might... like me.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  Her face was placid, her eyes distant, as she recalled the events of the evening. She was preparing to tell him, but it proved overwhelming for her and she started to cry again.

  “What is it, Lib, what is it?” He rubbed her back.

  “He... kissed me,” she said then let out a long croak. She folded up again, and he rubbed her back and hugged her.

  “That’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay,” she said.

  “What else?”

  “That’s it,” she said, and he stiffened.

  “What do you mean that’s it?”

  “He tried to kiss me.”

  “Tried? That’s all that happened?”

  She nodded, unraveled her tissue with her fingers and then blew her nose again. He held out his hand, and she put the used tissue in it and he set it on the night table. He plucked her a new one and handed that to her. “He tried to kiss you?”

  She nodded again.

  This is all you’re going to say? She needed more coaxing. “That’s okay, Lib. Where was this? At the show?”

  “No. His hotel room.”

  And then the real part of his brain took over, and he said, “What were you doing in his hotel room?” That was the real question that should come from a husband who wasn’t a piece of garbage who’d injured his wife unknowingly with his awful terrible unfaithful behavior.

  She exhaled. “I just went in for a minute.”

  “To have a glass of water?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Compassionate devious Ben returned, and he hugged her again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lib. You know I love you.”

  She said, “I love you, too. I’m sorry it happened...”

  He wasn’t ready to drop it. “Are you sure he tried to kiss you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe he was reaching for something and you... I don’t know, could you maybe misunderstand?”

  She looked sullen, eyes going down to the bedroom floor. She bit her lower lip. “No, we kissed.”

  “Your lips touched?” Just that question had his heart racing again and his penis was wide awake.

  She nodded. “I’m so sorry,” she said without looking at him.

  “And that’s everything?” Come on, come on, out with it…

  She threw him a sudden curve ball: “Do you think I’m attractive?”

  “Do I think you’re attractive? Libby, I married you and I love you and I think about you all day, every day. I love you to bits...”

  “Yeah, but do you think I’m… attractive?... You know… sexy?”

  “You are, Libby, you are...”

  “As sexy as Chelsea?” She showed him a pained unsure face.

  “Absolutely, baby, way sexier. You keep yours close, you know how I’m always begging to see it...”

  “She puts it up front?”

  “You’re sexy, Lib,” he said, a vice on his heart over his wife’s hurting, “you are just as sexy, I swear...”

  “Okay,” she sighed, deliquescing in his arms.

  He held her until it seemed she would remain silent. He said, “And that’s everything that happened? Nothing more…?…”

  She sighed again, looked around the room then sniffed. She said, “He didn’t just kiss me.”

  Here we go... “What else did he do?”

  “Nothing. But I know how he likes me.”

  He asked, “What does that mean?”

  She hugged herself closer to him. “How can you tell if a boy likes you, Ben?”

  “I don’t know. He sends you a Valentine’s card...?”

  “No,” she said, irritated—not at him though, at her inability to convey what she meant. It hit him. She couldn’t even say it…

  He held her away, asked quietly: “What is it?”

  Her brows worked high, then lowered. “If a boy likes you... Like really likes you, what can happen with his body?...”

  “You mean…”

  Her mouth slimmed and her shoulders went up. “Do you get what I’m saying?”

  “I think you have to say it.”

  She whined: “Why?”

  “I think I know, but maybe I’m wrong... please say it, I want to hear it...”

  She chewed her lower lip, said, “In his pants...”

  “How do you know?”

  She made a bashful face.

  “How Libby?”

  “I could tell.”

  “You could tell he had an erection?”

  She nodded, looked at her hands, said quieter: “And he told me…”

  “He told you…”

  Now her face twisted up, and she began to cry again.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said urgently. A fear had begun to work in him that maybe there was no more. And now the idea that she might be hurting and his trap hadn’t even been sprung was overwhelming... “Don’t hurt, Libby, don’t hurt… Finn got a boner, that’s all right, you didn’t do anything, right?...”

  “I know, I didn’t, I didn’t try to...”

  “You’re just too sexy,” he said.

  She laughed a blurting wet sound through her sad saliva-thick mouth. He loved to hear it. He caressed her arms and her back.

  “You just can’t help it...”

  “You’re so stupid,” she said and nuzzled against him.

  “And that’s all that happened?”

  She nodded.

  “That’s totally nothing, Lib, that’s totally nothing.”

  “Don’t be mad at Finn, please?”

  “I’m not mad at him at all, Lib. He’s a guy, guys can’t help themselves...”

  She gave a light happy chuckle, and he cradled her.

  “Libby,” he said, and put his hand over hers. She was happy to have it, ran her fingers between his and stroked her thumb against him. Heart beating fast, he made a bold move. He dragged her hand up his thigh, ushered it between his legs, placed the point of his pajama clad erection between both of their palms. He let her hand go. He didn’t say anything, just let her make up her own mind about what he’d just shown her.

  36

  He watched her in the low light coming from the bedroom window, her face sculpted in shadows and gray-blue light. Her eyes were lowered, and her hand didn’t leave him. He didn’t look down, only watched her face. He could feel her fingers manipulating him, her thumb swirling circles on his erection. He leaned back a little, put his hands behind him. Libby still caressed his turgid manhood.

  It was surprisingly exciting to think of her now holding her husband’s erection while last night she had been with another man—maybe nothing had happened more than what he’d heard but maybe something more did. But even with what he heard, there was a black swirling badness that he only dared to graze his fingertips against: what she’s holding in her hand she’s comparing to the one she put her hand on last night. It was guaranteed. That studious face she had, the furrowed, curious brow. It wasn’t just an innocent wife trying to comprehend her sexuality. It was more than that. Libby was unsure of her place in her sexual world, yes, but right now she had something else to compare her husband’s sexuality against. The thought was so awful, so bewilderingly powerful, his face began to pinch into a grimace. There was pleasure, but he had to focus to find it amidst the apocalyptic barren of all the pain, all the hurt and jealousy.

  He said to her very quietly, “We’re all the same, Lib. Men…”

  It brought the tiniest curl of
a smile to one side of her mouth. She said, “You’re not mad at me?”

  “Never,” he said, taking advantage of the moment to sit forward and remove her hand from him. It was a relief. It was so much effort to sift through all that hurt to find the tiniest diamond of pleasure. He held her wrists. “I’m not mad at all, Libby. You’re amazing, you’re my everything...”

  With her hand off him, her eyes returned to his. And he was feeling powerfully in love with her and bolder than ever. He let her wrists go, his hands moving to her hips and gathering the hem of her T-shirt. As he began to lift it, she scolded him: “Ben…”

  He persisted, beginning to casually see-saw the circle of her shirt hem up to the narrow of her waist. She sucked in her stomach, clamped her elbows to her side. He leaned forward and kissed her mouth. “Let me,” he whispered.

  With his chin in her neck, Libby let him move her shirt higher. Without his eyes watching she was more comfortable. He pulled it up to her armpits, then guided her to bend forward and pulled over the neck hole. Her hair slid through letting off quiet static pops before it hung like silk around her perfect face again. She wouldn’t look at him, and sat back, crossing her forearms over her breasts. He tossed her shirt aside, reached and held her wrists. He wasn’t even pulling but he could feel her resistance. “Let me,” he said again quietly and reassuringly. “I love you…”

  He tugged gently, let her resistance guide the speed with which he brought her hands down. She let him do it. And slowly in the moonlight his wife’s breasts were bared to him. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her naked like this, it’s just that she was a girl who preferred the dark for naked time. And being confronted by him like this was definitely something that inspired great shame in her.

  He said, “You have the most beautiful body, Finn didn’t stand a chance.”

  She made a quiet clucking sound with her tongue. Her fingers swallowed up her thumbs like they were sucking on them. She began to chew on her lip; the pink brown buds of her nipples condensed, the areola tightening in physical frisson, nipples lengthening and hardening.