by JA Huss
“Why would I pay for a hotel room at the Four Seasons when I have this?”
“Because at least you’d have the appearance of being normal. This is over the top. You do realize that, right?”
I shrug and go looking for sneakers. Find them and sit on the edge of the desk as I slip them on and tie the laces. “So where we going today?” I ask.
“Up to the river.”
“What river?”
“Poudre. We have a cabin up there now. It’s nice. Quiet. Bring a change of clothes too. We’re staying overnight.”
I feel obligated to object, but it actually sounds nice. So I don’t. Just pack up a duffel bag and say, “OK, let’s go.”
The whole drive up to the Poudre River cabin I am lost in thought. It’s not like there aren’t a million thoughts to get lost in, either. So the hour-and-a-half drive is filled with silence because Augustine, who is sitting in the back, has her earbuds in. Alexander just drives. And so I just sit there wondering what the fuck is happening.
How did they get this way? Like… what happened to them back in LA that this is who they are now? Also… wow, I feel like I dodged a bullet. Because I could be driving this car and some other man could be sitting in the passenger seat next to me while my wife ignored both of us.
I almost feel sorry for the dude.
It’s not like I ever hated Alexander. I didn’t. I was jealous, of course. Because she chose him and not me. But he’s older than us. So I guess I get why a twenty-three-year-old woman would choose a thirty-year-old man over a guy her own age. He had a career, and a house, and all that shit twenty-something women want.
I was in law school, so while it was a promising beginning he was well past that.
Choosing him was the right choice, I decide.
The cabin is just a small, two-room box made of logs. It’s quaint and it has electricity and plumbing, so that’s a plus. But this isn’t really my idea of a weekend getaway in the mountains. I was picturing, you know, a five-thousand-square-foot custom log home.
“Is that disgust I see on your face, Jordan?”
I turn away from the cabin and stare at Augustine. She’s standing in a beam of sunlight, her dark hair blowing slightly in the soft breeze. And for the first time I notice that she looks… older. Tired, maybe. Or defeated. That might be the word.
She’s still pretty though. And every now and then she’ll smile at something—it’s not usually me, or Alexander—and she’ll look young again.
“No,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” she says. And then turns, walks up to the front door, unlocks it, and disappears inside.
Alexander is getting their bags from the back of the Land Rover and the hatch closes with a soft click as he walks past me.
He still hasn’t said a word.
“What did you do?” I ask abruptly.
“What?” Alexander turns to look at me.
“What did you do to her? To make her like this?”
Alexander drops the bags on the ground next to him. One hand lifts his sunglasses up and places them on the top of his head. He stares at me.
He still looks good. I mean, he’s what? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight now? But he still looks good. Sandy blond hair. Blue eyes. Square jaw that doesn’t have a regular date with a razor. And he’s still very fit. He’s tan too, even though they left LA a while ago. He looks like a guy who drives a Land Rover. Not because it’s a hundred-thousand-dollar status symbol either, but because he needs it to get places other cars can’t go.
“You did this to her,” Alexander says.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“Then why are we here, Jordan? Hmm? God, you are so fucking stupid sometimes. Do you ever look around and just… see what’s happening? Or do you like it in the dark?”
I don’t answer, since I figure that was rhetorical.
So he picks up the bags, turns away, and goes inside.
CHAPTER THREE
I spend that entire afternoon still wondering what the fuck we’re doing. Augustine is morose, Alexander is quiet, and I’m just… confused.
At one point Alexander says he’s going to drive to the small store we passed on the way in and pick up some food. I try to go with him, but he says, “No. I want to be alone.”
OK.
So now it’s me, still confused, and Augustine, still morose.
I sit on the couch wishing I’d asked Alexander to pick up some alcohol. Because I really feel like getting drunk.
“Because I want you to watch us,” Augustine says out of nowhere.
“What?”
“Have sex,” she explains. “I want you to watch us.” She looks me in the eyes. “Then tell us what you see.”
I have a million things to say in reply. Like so many words popping into my head in this moment, it’s impossible to choose one direction. So I say nothing.
“Will you do that? Will you give us an honest assessment?”
“Augustine… I don’t know what you’re looking for, but Alexander clearly isn’t into this. OK? He doesn’t like men. We’ve always known that. He doesn’t want me watching you two fuck. And he certainly doesn’t want my opinion on his goddamned performance.”
“You’re wrong,” she says.
“Look, I don’t know what happened to you two, but this has nothing to do with me.”
“Wrong again.”
I want to fucking choke her right now. Like… I have no clue what I ever saw in this woman, because I see nothing attractive about her now. In fact, her dismissive attitude towards Alexander is kinda pissing me off.
“Maybe I don’t really need that building,” I say.
“Maybe not.”
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I told you. Watch us. Tell us what you see.”
“I don’t understand.”
“There’s no hidden meaning, Jordan. No agenda here. Just… watch us. And tell us what you see. How many times do I have to repeat myself before you hear what I’m saying?”
I draw in a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out. And say, “Fine. But I want a deadline. I want a firm date on when this can be over and you’ll sell me the building. Because I’m not fucking around forever, OK? I’m not gonna let you own me the way you own him. Fuck that. Give me a date.”
She closes her eyes. Just a slightly exaggerated blink. Then opens them and says, “Two months.”
“Fuck you.” I laugh. “No. I’m gonna fucking hitchhike back to civilization right now if you think I’m gonna put up with this bullshit for two months.”
“One month.”
“No,” I say. Because I’m beginning to understand that she needs me more than I need her. She’s holding this building over my head, but only because that’s the thing she has that I need. And if I walk away from the building, I walk away from her.
Funny. How you can go eight years feeling like a rejected loser and then suddenly figure out your perception was entirely wrong.
“One week,” I say.
“You know that’s not enough time.”
“Time for what?”
“To get us all on the same page?”
“For a threesome? Jesus, Augustine, let’s just do it now. He’s obviously doing whatever you tell him. Let’s just fuck and get it over with.”
“No, that’s not what I’m looking for. I don’t need a third partner to fuck, Jordan. I could get almost anyone to do that. I want you. With us.”
“I’m here,” I say.
“No. With. Us.”
“Like…” I laugh. “In a relationship?”
“Yes, in a relationship. But a real one. And that takes time.”
“He’s not gonna share you with me, Augustine.”
“No, he’s not. Unless he loves you too. Then it’s the three of us sharing each other.”
“You’re insane. He’s never gonna come around.”
“He’s already around,” she snaps. “It�
��s you who’s not on board. You’re the one holding this up. You’re the one fighting it. You know we’re good together. And you know this because we’ve been together before.”
“Yeah, once. And he wasn’t into it.”
“You’re wrong, as usual. It was me who wanted you out. Not him.”
“Liar.” I laugh. “That’s not true and you know it.”
“Ask him.”
“I don’t trust him to tell the truth. He’s your little puppet.”
“God,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re so stupid for being so smart. He was the one who loved you, Jordan. Not me. He’s the one who wanted a divorce, not me. He’s the one who made us come back here. And you’re the one he wants.”
I get up and leave at that point. A guy can only take so many lies in the same sentence. Why is she saying those things? I was there. I know what happened. And nothing of what she just said was even remotely true. Not the part about them. I have no clue what drove them apart. Well, I have some clue. It wasn’t Alexander’s love for me.
So I end up outside sitting on a rock by the river, throwing stones into the water to scare away the tiny minnows near the shore.
Alexander comes back some time later. When I look over my shoulder at him, he’s staring at me as he unloads bags from the back.
He’s got his hands full, already heading to the door, when he looks over his shoulder and says, “You should come inside now.”
I wait a little bit, trying to sort through my confusion. But eventually I get up, brush off the dirt, and go back in. Because I’m out of here. I’m gonna ask them to take me back to Fort Collins and drop me off and I’ll rent a car from there, or have someone come pick me up, because this is all bullshit.
I open the door, ready to say all that, and find them kissing in the kitchen.
His hand is between her legs, rubbing against her clit. Her thigh is between his, pressing up against his cock. His other hand grips her breast and squeezes. Then it’s sliding up her chest, and resting on her throat, and she opens her mouth as her head tips back, and waits for him to follow her lead.
Their kiss is long, and passionate, and they breathe heavy and fast.
And even though this is my job, a job I said I wouldn’t do, I can’t help it.
I watch.
She’s wearing a white tank t-shirt. Alexander grabs the collar and pulls down, taking her bra with the shirt, so her breasts are lifted up by the bunched-up fabric beneath them, popping out of her shirt.
He’s whispering something in her ear now. Something low. Something I strain to hear, but can’t. Almost move closer because I’m so curious. What does he say to her? Is it the same thing every time? Something stupid and dirty like, “Do you want my cock inside you?” Something like that?
Or maybe… maybe it’s something kinda sweet. Something like, “I ache for you.”
Augustine whines, her head nodding, eyes still closed. “Yes,” she squeaks out. “Yes,” she whispers again.
My guess is… it’s not sweet.
Alexander backs up, letting his hand drop from her throat as he leads her past me—grinning, but just briefly—like he’s showing me a secret. Until they’re standing in front of the couch.
He leans into her ear and whispers again. This time Augustine’s eyes are open as she nods, her face flushed, beads of sweat on her temple making her hair glisten, biting her lip…
God, what is he saying? Because it’s driving her crazy with lust.
He places a hand on her shoulder and urges her to sit on the couch in front of him. For a second I think I know where this is going, but I’m wrong. Because she lifts her legs up, bending her knees and spreading herself wide. Her skirt riding up her legs, giving him total access.
Alexander snaps her legs closed with a firm grip on both knees, then in one quick, rushed movement, he’s got her panties down at her ankles. A moment later they’re flying across the room in my direction.
His gaze follows them, then his eyes find mine. “Stay right there,” he says. “She’s mine.”
OK. I almost laugh. I mean, clearly she’s not or I wouldn’t be here.
But if he notices my smirk, he doesn’t care. And I’m not going to interfere anyway. She told me to watch, so fuck it. I’ll watch.
I lean against the kitchen island about twenty feet away from them, cross my arms, and just observe.
He’s dominant now and while she’s not quite submissive, she’s not in charge anymore either.
Alexander drops to his knees, spreads her open again, and starts kissing her leg, starting mid-calf and working his way up. He pauses at her knee, biting the soft flesh on the underside. This makes her breathe heavy and wiggle a little as she squeaks out pointless protests. Then he moves on, nipping and kissing the inside of her thigh. One finger is already inside her, his thumb massaging her clit. I can see that she’s wet. His finger is slick with her lust.
But instead of eating her pussy, he pushes her shirt up one-handed and whispers, “Take it off,” just loud enough for me to hear.
Against my better judgement, I move closer to hear him better. He’s a talker and I find talking to be a powerful stimulant… especially when I’m just observing.
It’s been a long time since I just got to watch. When the club was open it was a regular thing. Just another part of my sex life. And it was easy to get lost in someone else’s fantasy. I mean… we—the players—were all that place contained. So they put on a show, or I put on a show, and they watched me, or I watched them and it was… normal.
Just another move in the game.
I don’t think they could know that though. How could they? So this is how they play too. Two people on exhibit.
I like it.
There’s a chair about four feet away from them, so I take a seat, my legs open, my hand on my cock. It’s not hard, but it’s growing underneath the loose fabric of my sweat shorts.
Augustine has her shirt and bra off now. Her breasts are just as perfect as I remember them. Better, maybe. Like the years have only added to her beauty. She’s not wearing make-up today, but she looks radiant and fresh now. So different then she was just a few hours ago when we arrived.
It’s him, I realize. He’s making her look this way.
It’s not jealousy I feel in this moment of realization, it’s something else. Like I’ve missed something. Or maybe… missed out on something.
His fingers are strumming her clit. Short, quick back-and-forth movements. And then he’s got two fingers inside her, pumping her hard. She squirts liquid up into the air and Alexander smiles. Like he just won a prize.
Her fingernails are digging into his upper arms like a vice. Gripping him like she never wants to let go.
“You’re a good girl, Mrs. Bartos,” Alexander croons.
“Yes,” she squeaks. “I’m very good.” Then she grabs his hair with both hands and stares into his eyes. “I’m good,” she insists. “I am.”
Then I have this… this moment of recognition. Augustine and the little begging she liked to do and it makes me feel, once again, like I’ve been missing something.
Because I forgot about that. I’d forgotten all her little tells. All the little ways she’d let us know she was having a good time, or that she wanted more, or… she’s just enjoying herself. All the small things she’d say or the words she’d use. So that we knew, whatever it was we were doing, she liked it. And we should keep going.
“I know,” he says, one finger stroking her cheek as he continues to pump two fingers inside her.
Her back bucks up. Spine arching like she’s about to come. She bites her lip and he kisses it, whispering something inaudible. I lean forward, wanting to catch the words, but they escape into the air and float away.
Alexander takes her hand and places it over his cock. She unbuttons his shorts with nimble fingers and pulls him out, her hand automatically wrapping around his long, thick shaft.
He’s always had a nice cock, now that I think
about it.
But then she’s done stroking and places him near her entrance.
“What do you want?” Alexander asks her. Staring intently down into her eyes.
She stares back, speechless now, like she’s lost in the moment. Like she’s somewhere else and she’s trying to find her way back.
And I feel like saying, She wants you to fuck her, dude. Obviously.
But she says it for me. “Do it. Do it, please.”
He leans back, his legs open, sitting on the floor in front of her. “Are you sure?” he asks, tilting his head to the side a little. Grinning.
“Yes, yes!” she whines. Scooting her ass forward until it’s hanging off the edge of the couch cushion.
He moves his hips forward, reaching for her as it bumps up against her pussy, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait for him to enter her. To fuck her. To make her scream.
But he doesn’t. “This,” he says, positioning the tip of his cock against her swollen clit.
“Yes, yes,” she repeats. Only this time it’s just small sounds mixed with breath.
He presses it up against her wet flesh and she moans. Then he flicks it back and forth and Augustine goes wild. Her mouth clamps shut as she hums out something incoherent.
He does it again and she hisses through her teeth. Then again, and she’s moaning. He’s flicking the tip of his dick back and forth across her clit, so fast it blurs and a moment later she…
Explodes.
Literally squirts up in the air, moans and screams coming out of her mouth, and I can only assume she’s coming. But it goes on and on and on. And she’s begging him now, not to fuck her, but not to stop.
But he does stop.
And I swear to God, I think she just has one continuous orgasm that lasted five minutes at least.
She is exhausted. Her thighs are trembling as she holds her legs open for him. Sweat is pouring down her face. She is flushed pink from her cheeks to her belly.
She is spent.
And he never even put his cock inside her.
Their foreplay was so well… choreographed I suddenly feel like an unwelcome outsider. Like… a voyeur of the worst kind.