by Elia Winters
Angela leaned against the wall next to the mirrors. “What do you mean? You were just saying you both had a great time.”
“I know. We did. But…” To explain this was going to admit to some shit that gave her pause, even around Angela, who was never going to judge her for the wacky shit she thought or said. “Ever since we did it, I cannot stop thinking about fucking other guys.”
Angela’s eyebrows went up, but then she lowered them, returning to a normal expression. Abby pressed on. “It’s not like I’d go off and do anything like that, but I keep thinking about it, like, it’s on my mind all the time. I feel like my hormones have been turned up to eleven all week.”
“That’s probably normal, though. You just did this big thing. It was exciting. Your body wants more. It’ll pass, if you just ignore it.”
Abby grimaced. “I don’t know. I feel really guilty about it. I chose Sam, my one and only. I shouldn’t be thinking about other guys.”
Angela waved a hand dismissively. “Fantasies are just fantasies. They don’t mean anything. You don’t have to act on them.”
Except that they were kind of doing that, bringing up fantasies and acting on them. Abby turned away from her own judgmental reflection and ducked back into the dressing room to take the dress off. “I’m worried that if we keep sharing fantasies, I’m just going to tell him. And then he’ll be hurt, and we’re never going to repair that.”
“Maybe he won’t be hurt. Maybe he’ll be into it. He’s been into everything so far.”
“That’s worse.” She’d definitely already considered that possibility, too. “If he’s into it, then we have this huge tectonic shift in our marriage. We go from just the two of us to… I don’t know, just past the two of us, where I sleep with other people, and then we can never get anything back.” She hung the dress on its hanger and pulled her jeans back over her hips. “Even in the last month, things have changed between us. They don’t feel like they used to.”
“In a good way or a bad way?”
Abby hesitated. “I don’t know. Just different. Sam’s different. He’s not the same guy I married. It’s like there’s this whole other side of him that I hadn’t known, just hanging out there, waiting for kinky sex games.”
“But you like that side of him.”
Angela had her there. “Yeah, I do. But—”
“But nothing. You can’t have it both ways. You’re having super-hot sex and making each other’s fantasies come true. I don’t get why you’re upset about that.”
Abby closed her eyes, sitting for a moment on the bench in the dressing room. Alone in that space, the guilt welled up inside her, another wave of discomfort. “This feels like old me. Irresponsible me. I’m not supposed to be attracted to other guys anymore.”
“That’s bullshit, you know. You’re married, not dead.”
“That’s easy for you to say. I don’t want to hurt Sam.”
“I seriously think you’re underestimating him.”
What if she was wrong, though? Angela could speak confidently from out there; this was all a hypothetical exercise for her. It wasn’t her life.
Abby looked down at her hands in her lap. “I worked so hard to change the train wreck I was becoming back in college, and I got a great guy like Sam out of it. I don’t want to undo that.”
Another long silence, then Angela’s voice from right outside the door. “Are you still getting dressed in there, or are you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself?”
Abby wrinkled her nose and got up. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
After Abby bought the dress, they grabbed a soft pretzel at one of the mall kiosks and sat on a bench near Target, sharing it and people watching. They talked about Angela’s bathroom remodel and several stories about her dog Thumper before circling back to the previous topic, which Angela brought up out of nowhere. “So do you want to go back to the way things were with you and Sam?”
Abby reeled from the subject change for a minute before recovering. “I don’t think we could. And I kind of don’t want to. I just don’t want it to escalate. I don’t want it to get out of control. And I definitely don’t want him to know that I’m lusting after every good-looking guy in the vicinity.”
Angela laughed, picking up a piece of pretzel. “I think it’s okay. I actually think you should bring it up. See if that threesome was a one-and-done thing, or if he’d be game for it all over again.”
Abby winced. “I don’t know. Zach was kind of a special case. I don’t think he’d be into making a habit out of it.”
Angela shrugged. “You suit yourself. It’s your marriage. You probably don’t want my marriage advice, anyway. I’m never getting married again.”
“Straight pimpin’ with Angela?” Abby grinned.
“That sounds like a new HGTV show.” Angela nicked the last of the pretzel and popped it in her mouth before Abby could object.
Maybe she should call it off. They might be having fun now, but they couldn’t keep this up forever. There was a reason Abby Wood If She Could stayed behind at college: giving in to all her baser impulses was an unsustainable way to live. Relationships required people to grow up. This dalliance between them was destined to set them both up for bad expectations.
Even if the thought of calling it off made her feel just a little bit sick.
…
It figured that Abby could somehow find a dress even more sinfully gorgeous than her reunion dress to wear to this company party. That green dress from New Year’s had been smokin’ hot, but this was sex in fabric form, clinging to all her curves with a neckline plunging dangerously low.
Sam came up behind her as she finished curling her hair and set down the curling iron on the sink. She yielded to his touch, and he wrapped his arms around her and breathed in the floral scent of her red curls. “Maybe we should just skip the party so I can get you back out of that dress again.”
“It’s the company party and we have to go.” She gently pulled away from his embrace. Her expression had been a little frowny, a little unhappy, all afternoon.
“You don’t look like you want to go, I’ve gotta say.” He tried to laugh a little so she wouldn’t get her feelings hurt.
“Oh. Sorry.” She shook her head. “I just… I had a chat with Angela a couple of days ago, and it’s been on my mind.”
He sat down on the bed. A chat with Angela could be anything. “You want to talk about it?”
Abby hesitated, a few emotions playing across her face. The longer she waited, the faster Sam’s heart beat, as if they were in some sort of race of escalating emotions. Finally, she sighed, defusing all the tension, and walked out of the bathroom. “This thing we’re doing just doesn’t seem sustainable.”
“What thing?” He had a sense, obviously, but hopefully he was wrong.
“This…” She waved her hand in a rolling motion. “This fantasy thing. Where we share fantasies and make them come true. We can’t keep going like this.”
“Why not?” They’d been having a good time, right? Last weekend with Zach was incredible, and all week, they had been chill together, no sense of distress. “It’s been working out so far.”
“But where’s it gonna go?” She spread her arms wide, then leaned back against the doorframe of the bathroom. “We’re just going to keep trying new things, week after week, forever?”
“I assumed we’d run out of fantasies, eventually.” His attempt at a joke didn’t make her smile. She seemed really upset about this, or maybe…disappointed? Her expression was nearly neutral, hard to read, with a slight downturn of her lips. “But really.” Sam got to his feet and approached, slowly, cautiously. “I thought we were having a good time. We haven’t done anything the other person hasn’t wanted to do.”
“That’s just it.” She brushed through his arms and past him. “We’re both into all this, but it’s been only a month and we’ve been to a sex club, tried BDSM, and I fucked another guy!” She pressed a palm to her head, looking sudde
nly a lot more upset.
“Is that what this is about? Are you feeling guilty?” He really wanted to hold her right now, but she’d pushed away. Instead, he thrust his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “Don’t feel guilty, sweetie. I wanted it. I thought you wanted it. We had fun.”
“And what about when you want to do it again?”
“We don’t have to do anything we’re not both into.” How many times were they going to go through this? “Seriously, if you want to stop, we can stop, but I thought we were both having a good time. Eventually we’ll either run out of fantasies or we’ll get to a point where the other person doesn’t want to participate. Otherwise, we’re only doing stuff we’re both into.” He paused, a terrible thought running through his head. “Unless you’re not into this? Unless you’re saying yes because of some other reason?” Would she do that? Would she say yes when she meant no, just out of some desire to…to what?
“No.” Her guilty expression shifted to angst, her eyes going wide. “No. I haven’t been lying. I’ve been into all of this. I just feel like we can’t go on forever.”
“So let’s not go on forever. Let’s just go as long as we want.” He wanted her to be okay with what they’d done. Even if she didn’t want to ever do anything else, they couldn’t close these doors on what had happened. He didn’t want to. Sam moved closer again, and this time she let him take her hands. “Listen. Last weekend with Zach, it was huge. It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Watching you with him… I’ve never been so turned on in my life, Abby, you have to believe that.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, like she wanted this to be true, and he kept talking. “If you don’t want to do anything else, if you really want to stop now, we can stop. You don’t have to share any of your other fantasies. You already made mine come true. We don’t have to do any of it again if you don’t want to.”
Abby’s expression twisted, like she was trying to hide a range of emotions, and she settled on something neutral, something passive, frustratingly passive. “We’re going to be late for the party.”
“Then let’s be late.” They couldn’t leave unless they resolved this. He wouldn’t be able to sleep. “What do you want? Do you want to go back to how things were before all this?”
“We can’t, and you know that.” She pulled back, dropping her arms. “You know all these things about me now. You know I like getting teased, and tied up, and I like you to top me. You know I like being watched.” Her face was growing pinker, slowly turning to red. “And I liked last weekend. I liked getting fucked by Zach. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that. I shouldn’t like that. I shouldn’t be so okay with that. You’re my husband, and you’re supposed to be the only person I’m with.”
Was that at the root of this? “I don’t know how to convince you I’m okay with it.”
She let out a long, shaky breath. “I guess I’m just having trouble with what it means for us, long-term. Who we are, you and me, as a couple.” She looked off toward the window, folding her arms, her gaze going soft like she was lost in thought. “I’m okay,” she said after a couple of moments. “I’m okay.”
“You believe me, though, right?” She couldn’t go thinking he was secretly resenting her for being attracted to Zach. He needed confirmation, or all of this felt groundless. “You believe I liked last weekend, that I like all of it?”
She smiled at him, still something guarded about her smile. “I do believe you, yeah. I believe you had a good time last weekend. I believe that you are fine with everything.” She looked like she was going to say something more, her lips opening once again, but then she closed them and didn’t elaborate.
“Okay.” He had to trust her; she was his wife. He had to trust that she would tell him the truth about these feelings.
She gestured for the door, shutting down the conversation. “Come on. You want to drive, or should I?”
…
Maybe this party was a bad idea.
Abby tipped back her glass of champagne and took another look around the Dooney Architecture Annual Gala. There was no denying it: Sam worked with a lot of hot guys. She’d always been aware of it on a distant level, but fresh off their new sexual adventures, her aesthetic interest had shifted into a lustier note.
Fuck.
The party wasn’t huge, despite being called a gala; Dooney Architecture was a medium-sized firm, but they invited their interior design partner company, and with spouses attending as well, all in all there were probably about a hundred people here. Enough to see everyone but not enough to disappear completely. Abby wasn’t normally the type to even want to disappear completely, but she couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to act. Could she flirt? She flirted with everybody, but it was different to flirt when her interest was hypothetical versus when she was actually thinking about fucking someone.
“You all right?” Sam asked, touching the middle of her back and steering her over toward a waiter with passed appetizers. “You froze up for a minute, there.”
Sam was gorgeous, no doubt about it. Looked good, smelled good, embodied everything she wanted in a man. Why was she even looking at anyone else?
“Just got lost in thought.” She smiled up at him so he wouldn’t see that she was a horny, guilty little mess. “Are those beef Wellington canapés?” She snatched one up and popped it into her mouth, just to have something to do.
“Sam and Abby!”
The deep, warm voice knocked her out of her daze as Stephan, one of the other architects Sam worked with, came over to greet them. He shook Sam’s hand before pulling him into a hug, and then embraced Abby as well. God, Stephan. Tall, Greek, gorgeous, with curly black hair and dark eyes, this olive-skinned beauty had been a subject of Abby’s admiration for, what, a year and a half now? Ever since she first saw him at the company’s Labor Day picnic. Of course he would come over now, while she was a bundle of unsettled hormones, looking beautiful and enticing as ever. He even pronounced his name the gorgeous way, accent on the second syllable, as European as his heritage.
“It’s nice to see you, Stephan,” Sam said. “Jo join you tonight?”
Abby had only met Stephan’s equally beautiful wife once, at that first Labor Day picnic.
“Jo’s around here somewhere.” Stephan glanced around. “Schmoozing, as usual.” He laughed, warm and deep, and snagged a canapé from a passing waiter. “Are you having fun tonight? Abby, enjoying yourself?”
“Yes.” Her mouth had dried up, and she didn’t even say “thank you” or ask him how he was doing. That was an invitation to follow up with some other conversation, but no words came. Sam looked at her curiously. It wasn’t like her to run out of small talk; these casual exchanges were her specialty.
Stephan seemed to be waiting for something else, but shifted the conversation smoothly. “I swear, these get more extravagant every year. I keep waiting for the invitation to say ‘black tie,’ and I won’t be surprised.”
“Tuxes are good,” Abby blurted out. They both looked at her. Tuxes are good? Really? That was her meaningful addition to this conversation? “I mean. I like them. They look good. On people.” Jesus, Abby, stop talking now. She was sounding like a blithering idiot.
Sam’s eyebrows were both twitching upward, and he had that look that he was trying not to call her out on being a dumbass. He never would, not in public. “You want to see me in a tux?” he teased, smiling, defusing some of the tension.
“Yeah. Of course.” She leaned in closer to him, closing some of the distance. Anything to space her farther away from Stephan, who was exuding some serious pheromones, or maybe she was just extra neurotic today.
Fortunately, Jo stepped up alongside Stephan and reached out a hand to Abby and Sam in greeting. Jo was as beautiful as Stephan, with short black hair cut in a pixie cut and dark eyes that could see right through you. Thank God people couldn’t read minds, because Abby’s thoughts had been nonstop filthy about Jo’s husband.
“You working
the room, hon?” Stephan looked down at his wife.
“You know me.” She returned his warm smile. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen you both. I keep being booked during all the seasonal parties. I have to let Stephan off loose on his own without a chaperone.” Her gaze, staring back up at him, was filled with pure affection. “And who knows what kind of mischief he’s been getting up to?”
“I’m always in trouble, honey, you know me.” Stephan kissed the top of her head. “You can see I’ve already picked out a beautiful woman to talk to while you were absent. Sam is barely keeping me at bay.”
He was kidding, obviously, but Abby flushed as Jo chuckled. “Ignore him, Abby, he’s terrible.” Jo reached out to squeeze Abby’s hand.
Abby, still blushing, shook her head. “It’s fine. He’s fine. I mean, I don’t mind. I don’t mind his comments. Or anybody’s comments.” Shit, she was making this worse. “Hey, honey, I’m going to…go grab a drink at the bar.” She ducked away from the conversation and headed straight for the bar.
He’s fine? I don’t mind anybody’s comments? Escape was the only option. If only she could stop picturing Stephan pinning her against the wall with his tall, athletic body, holding both hands up above her head with just one of his, his mouth teasing slow, lazy kisses down her neck while she wriggled helplessly against him…
“Abby?”
She turned to see Sam, eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I was just getting a drink.” Oh, but she wasn’t standing at the bar yet. She was near the bar, but she hadn’t approached it, instead staring into space on her own.
Sam was clearly not buying it. “Hey, babe, why don’t we duck off somewhere quiet and talk?” He took her by the hand, his grip insistent, almost too tight. “Right now.”
She let him pull her around the corner into the hallway leading to other parts of the banquet space, and then into a closet. He turned on a light. They were surrounded by shelves of holiday decorations. “What is up with you?” he asked. “You’ve been weird all night. Is this about what we talked about earlier? Are you mad at me or something?”