I tossed the phone onto the desk and crashed my lips into his. We had to get down to business. Peggy knew I was here and if I stayed too long, she’d become suspicious, and we’d become office gossip.
Will ended the kiss but kept his lips on mine. “Where do you want to do it?”
“Right here.”
“In the chair?”
“Yeah.”
He cupped my ass, squeezing hard. “You got anything on underneath this dress?”
“I’m commando all the way.”
“Fuuuck me.”
I held his gaze as I stood back and slid my dress up over my hips. Will undid his pants. He was more than ready for me.
I walked toward him and positioned myself in between his legs. He looked down, taking in the boots and my half-naked body. His gaze and hands traveled up the leather until they reached my hot skin.
“Are you sure about the chair, Bryson?”
“Yes.” I breathed.
Grabbing my ass he helped me up until I was straddling him. I got right to it, lowering myself down onto him. With our foreheads together, my hips rocked. Will’s grip intensified, his fingers digging into my skin.
A guttural moan moved up my throat.
Faster.
“God,” I sighed.
“Your pussy is so hot,” Will groaned.
“Oh, fuck,” I yelped.
Faster.
A muffled deep rumble vibrated from his chest.
“Fuck, Will.”
“That’s right . . .”
Faster.
“Oooh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” My hands griped his shirt.
“Talk dirty to me, baby.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he growled.
“No.”
“Yes! It gets me off.”
“No, it’s my leg. I got a cramp in it. I gotta stretch.”
I started to climb off but Will stopped me. Wrapping his arm around my waist, he held on tight and dropped us to the carpet. My legs flew straight into the air.
God, it felt good to stretch.
Frantically pumping in and out of me, Will covered my mouth with his in order to keep the noise to a minimum as we climaxed together.
While still inside me Will and I stared at each other.
“Chair sex looks like a piece of cake in the movies,” I said.
“It was hot even with the leg cramp.”
After several more attempts with no success the hot spontaneity started to wear off. Sex had become mechanical. When the device indicated that I was ovulating, Will got the call. There was no sweet talk or dirty talk. No foreplay. Sometimes we didn’t even get completely undressed. We’d expose the necessary parts and had at it. We no longer made love. There was only one clear and direct purpose for us having sex, to get our lives back on track and have a family. Both Will and I went through additional testing and no physical reasons were found that would keep us from getting pregnant. The doctor’s only advice was to relax and keep trying.
With each cycle that passed, insecurities set in. I felt inadequate. There were women all over the world having babies every minute of the day and night. Some on purpose, some by accident, and some who didn’t know they were pregnant. I didn’t understand what my problem was. It was so easy the first time. The stress was affecting Will as well. He seemed to be retreating into his office more and away from me.
Staring up at the ceiling fan, I counted the repetitions of the blades. Will’s face was buried in the crook of my neck as his sweaty body slid over my skin. My eyes shut at the first sensation of him pushing inside of me. Instinctively my hips began to rock. Grunts and hot breath washed down my neck and shoulders. I dug my nails into Will’s biceps spurring him on. His hips picked up speed. I was too much in my head to enjoy the physical sensation. I hoped and prayed that at this moment we were making our child. At least that’s what I kept telling myself. Another loud grunt filled my ears before Will collapsed on top of me.
He rolled onto his back, draping his arm over his eyes. “Not happening tonight.” He snapped.
I grabbed the edge of the sheet and covered myself. “It’s okay.”
Over the past month there had been times when Will wasn’t able to fully perform. I told him we could take a break for a while. He wanted to power through until we made a baby but the stress was getting to be too much to handle.
The silence in the room was broken only by the sound of Will trying to steady his breathing.
In an attempt to lighten the mood, I said, “I’m thinking about getting my hair cut and highlighted like Jennifer Aniston.”
Will chuckled sarcastically. “That’s not going to turn you into Jennifer Aniston.”
He rolled out of bed and headed toward the bathroom.
“I said like Jennifer Aniston.”
You moody motherfucker.
Ten minutes later Will came back in the room dressed in his blue T-shirt and gray flannel pajama pants. Looking in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his hair a few times before heading toward the door.
I sat up in bed. “Where are you going?”
“I have some reports to finish for work.”
“They can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“They’re due tomorrow, Bryson.”
“Can’t you put them off for at least a half hour and just sit with me?”
“I’m dressed. Besides, my head is already in business mode.”
“I’m sorry spending non-fucking time with me has become such an inconvenience.” My voice cracked.
Other than the time we spent trying to make a baby, Will and I were apart more than together.
“Bryson, don’t pull that shit.” He huffed.
“Are you kidding me? I’m trying my damnedest to be understanding and patient with you.”
“Then get off my back.”
“I can’t believe you just said that to me. I’m doing everything in my power to be a good wife to you, including trying to give you a child in a certain timeframe.”
“And I’m working my ass off to provide for you. How do you think I feel having to perform every time you snap your fingers?”
“Snap my fingers? Do you think I’m looking forward to being sick, tired, and bloated? At least before the sex was enjoyable. Now it’s stick it in and hope for the best. What a great way to bring a child into the world.”
“Well, maybe we should take a break.”
Tears trickled down my cheeks. “Take a break?”
“Yeah, because lately fucking you hasn’t been exactly a thrill for me.”
“Go to hell!”
He turned and stormed out of the room.
I sat frozen in bed. I didn’t know what hurt more, Will’s words or the disconnect that filled his eyes. Something had definitely been changing between us and it wasn’t all due to the infertility issue or him being busier at work. I thought we were moving past our heartache and gluing our dream back together. But the look he gave me said otherwise. For the first time in our relationship I was scared of what the future held.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I reached for Will’s high school football jersey and tugged it down over my body. I wasn’t a very patient person. If something was wrong I wanted to deal with it in the here and now rather than letting it fester. I made a bathroom pit stop to splash cool water on my face. Grabbing a pair of wool socks from the dresser, I pulled them on and headed downstairs.
The home office was diagonal to the stairs. Taking in a deep breath, I wrapped my arms around my body. Not only was I nervous to find out what was happening between us, I also knew Will didn’t like to be interrupted while working. There was a slight crack in the door. Will was too focused on his work and didn’t notice when I pushed the door open enough to peek inside.
The desk was positioned in front of the large bay window that faced the front of the house. The room was dark except for flickering light from the laptop. Will’s back was facing me but I was able to see part of the comput
er screen.
At first I didn’t know what I was looking at. My eyes squinted, adjusting to the light. My fuzzy brain cleared and the bottom dropped out of my stomach. A naked blonde filled the screen. Her head was tilted to the side, her eyes filled with the illusion of lust as she looked directly into the camera while sucking on her index finger. Slowly, she drew the wet finger out and slid it down her body and between her open legs. Using her other hand, she pinched and twisted her nipple. With hooded eyes, blond waves fell back as she plunged the finger between her legs and it disappeared inside. Her lips rounded as the finger pumped in and out of her. I saw her mouth forming words but I couldn’t hear them. I was no lip reader, though I knew the type of filth she was saying. My gaze shifted to the back of Will’s head. He was wearing a headset, enabling him to catch every moan and dirty word. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as his head fell back against the chair.
“Fuck yourself you fucking whore,” Will muttered, trying to keep his voice low.
More muffled moans filled the room as he stroked himself while watching the screen skank. Will’s body jerked forward then convulsed as he climaxed.
My body and mind went numb. I couldn’t believe what was happening in front of me. My husband, who less than thirty minutes ago was unable to come inside of me, exploded in his hand in front of a total stranger.
Gut-wrenching, devastated, hurt, and betrayed are all words I’d attach to the moment I saw my husband having cyber-sex. But I didn’t feel any of them as I witnessed the scene in front of me unfold. Novocain replaced the blood in my veins, numbing every inch of my mind and body. It was like watching a movie or TV show and being emotionally detached from the action. Part of me screamed to run away. But the other part of me had my gaze frozen, hoping to convince my heart that somehow I was misinterpreting what was happening.
Playing up her orgasm, the screen skank convulsed as she whipped her head back and forth. Her surgically enhanced chest heaved while she slid the finger out from between her legs. Looking directly into the camera, she smiled and stuck the infamous finger in her mouth.
“Lick it, baby,” Will muttered.
Her bright pink overinflated lips moved, eliciting a deep chuckle from Will. It didn’t even sound like him. My impulse was to jerk the office chair around to see if in fact the person sitting in it was Will. Nothing about this felt like my life. The numbness began to fade, replaced by waves of nausea churning in my stomach. The sensation of bile rising burned my throat. I couldn’t talk or look at Will until my head cleared and the ability to think returned. I needed to get away before he caught me catching him.
Quietly I backed out into the entryway and sprinted to my bedroom. I dove into bed, yanking the covers over my head, and tried to push the images of the last fifteen minutes from my memory. As hard as I tried to refocus, I couldn’t un-see what I’d just seen. The images swirled around my head and each second that passed became more and more vivid.
Up to this point no tears had been shed. The nausea had even subsided a little. Suddenly out of nowhere the sharp pain of realization pierced my stomach and spread throughout my body. I’d just discovered the person I thought I knew, the one I let into my heart, didn’t exist. Burying my face deep into the pillow, I cried until exhaustion faded into sleep.
The next morning I jolted awake. Rolling onto my back, I peeked from behind the covers over to Will’s side of the bed. He wasn’t there.
Good.
I didn’t know if or when he came to bed last night. It didn’t matter. I still wasn’t ready to face him. I needed time to process things with a clearer head.
I got out of bed, walked over to the window, and saw that his car wasn’t in the driveway.
Another good.
I shuffled into the bathroom and mindlessly locked the door as a precaution. For a split second the action surprised me. Rarely did Will come back home once he left for work. But just in case he did, I didn’t want to be caught off guard.
As the hot water drizzled down my body, I tried to look at the situation from all angles. I wasn’t that much of a prude or innocent. I grew up with a brother who was openly proud about his Playboy collection. And with technology being so integrated into daily life, I knew that porn was just a click away. Guys were visual creatures. Hence, the sexy shots I sent Will. But apparently I needed to upgrade my definition of porn because I was clueless that it had become interactive. And that’s the part I couldn’t handle. That’s the part that felt as if Will had reneged on our marriage vows and cheated on me.
I was to meet Sophie in a half hour for yoga class. I thought about calling it off but felt antsy and needed to get out of this house. I dressed in my black yoga pants, purple T-shirt, and orange and purple Nikes. Standing in front of the dresser mirror, I gathered up my hair into a high ponytail. No reason not to look cute just because my husband was a sex pervert. I was tired of thinking about the fact that a complete stranger, located God knows where, could cause a reaction out of my husband that I’d been unable to achieve. Plus, I knew if I went any further down that rabbit hole my worth as a wife and a woman would be completely obliterated. I needed a mental break and a change of scenery.
As I hit the bottom of the stairs, I turned on my way to the kitchen. My gaze froze on the door to Will’s office. I stopped and for a brief moment thought about going in to look around. I wasn’t sure what I thought I’d find. He took his laptop with him every day. He never locked the room so obviously he was comfortable with me going in there while he was gone. My phone chirped with a text, pushing the investigation out of my head for the moment.
Sophie: Hey, chick! How about lunch after class?
Me: Sure.
Sophie: Awesome. There’s a cute new sandwich place I’ve been wanting to try.
Me: Ok.
Sophie: Anything wrong?
Me: No.
Sophie: Are you sure?
Me: Why?
Sophie: Cause you’re texting funny.
Me: I’m fine. See you in a bit.
I certainly wasn’t going to ask my best friend’s advice about my husband’s screen fuck buddy via text. I was already tired of the day and it hadn’t even started yet. I needed coffee, pronto.
Sophie kept glancing over at me during our walk across the parking toward the pale blue and green studio but never asked if anything was wrong. She was a great best friend, knowing intuitively when and when not to push me for information. Adele scrunched up her face when she saw the two of us walk in class. She had taken up residence on the opposite side of the room today. I gave her a sideways glance as I unrolled my mat. She was gesturing in my direction and whispering to the middle-aged lady next to her. The lady must have been new because I hadn’t seen her here before. No doubt Adele was warning her to stay clear of the anal kitchen queen. She hadn’t spoken or come near me for months. I eased down onto my mat and laser-focused on my breathing as I stretched, waiting for class to begin.
The sandwich shop Sophie wanted to have lunch at was right around the corner from the yoga studio. It was early September and the humidity that was a Charleston staple during summer had begun to lift, so we decided to walk to the cafe. We placed our order at the counter, grabbed a couple of bottled waters from the cooler, and found a quiet corner on the outdoor patio. I cracked open my water and took a swig while looking at lunchtime people milling about the downtown market area.
“Okay, spill the beans.” Sophie demanded.
“What beans?”
“Something is obviously on your mind. We can play a few rounds of the denial game or we can cut to the chase. You should know, I’m going out of town tomorrow and won’t be readily available.”
I twisted the top back on the bottle of water. “I’m probably making a bigger deal out of it than I need to. It’s probably more normal and natural than I was aware of. I probably should just erase it from my mind.”
“Probably. But you can’t and won’t. Out with it.”
A flush of heat crept o
ver my cheeks as my chin dipped down. “I walked in on Will masturbating last night.”
My gaze shot up to meet hers. I was both afraid and curious to see her reaction. Sophie’s expression remained relaxed.
“So he spent a little time with Palmala and her five sisters.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tilted my head to the side. “Who?”
Sophie raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Palmala and her five sisters.”
“Ew,” I said, scrunching up my nose.
“Don’t ew it till you’ve tried it.”
I was about to respond when the waitress walked up with our order. I couldn’t even look at the woman when I mumbled thank you.
Sophie had a lot more experience and kept up to date on things, sexually speaking. I needed to get her gut reaction to the screen skank involvement.
Needing to keep my hands busy, my gaze stayed down as I ripped open the packet of spicy mustard and squirted it over the ham sandwich. “What do you know about cyber-sex?”
I stole a quick glance at her.
Leaning in, she turned her ear toward me. “Come again?”
“Don’t look at me.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you looking at me when I tell you what I’m about to tell you. Look at your food, look at the ground, look at anything except me.”
Sophie scooted her chair away from the table, angling it so she’d be aimed toward the street. “Better?”
“Better. Thanks.” I took in a deep breath and cleared my throat. “Last night Will wasn’t able to . . . you know, while we were trying to make a baby. We had a big argument and he stormed out.”
“Of the house?” she said, looking at me sideways.
“No, he went downstairs to his office. Stop looking at me.”
Her gaze shifted back to the street.
“So I felt bad about the fight. We’ve both been stressed because of the baby thing and he’s been working really hard. I went downstairs to his office and found him doing it in front of his laptop with some other woman.”
“Can I turn around now?”
“I guess.”
Sophie adjusted her chair back to face me. “That slimy motherfucker.”
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