Heather agreed they should go to the spa, but gave John a look and said, “To get a professional massage. That would really help me relax,” she said. And she meant it. What had she been thinking, letting John feel her up like that in public? They had things to discuss. Behavior patterns to correct before getting their freak back on.
No sense in getting caught up in the moment, and letting sex get in the way of talking about what was really wrong. Maybe after group therapy, she would be ready for intercourse again. After all, they had work to do.
So, when Brynn invited herself and Tad to join them at the spa, Heather was relieved.
That was one way to keep her horndog husband under control. Chaperones.
Chapter 9
John
“Score,” John thought to himself as the four of them walked to the spa together.
John could not believe she had opened her legs to him. To use a basketball analogy, it was as if Heather had given him home court advantage and he had just made the winning three-point basket and the crowd was going wild, John thought. He had only planned to rest his hand on her knee under the picnic table, but when she hadn’t tensed up, he took it one step further. And then it kept going and going. It felt like they were a couple of teenagers being naughty at sleep-away camp.
He did know what had happened that made her sex reach out to him in that moment, but he was praying this was the green light he needed.
“Act normal,” Heather whispered as she closed in next to John while walking to the spa. She grabbed his hand in hers to help him behave, and her touch sent spikes of lust through him as he grinned like he knew he’d just gotten away with something. “And will you please stop smelling your fingers! Everyone is going to know you were feeling me up in public.” John ached at the sound of her whispering about their inappropriate behavior. He knew what they had done affected her. It made her raw, dirty and more like the old Heather. She liked it and wanted more. He was getting through to her. Slowly, but he would take it.
He used the opportunity of her grabbing his hand to pull her in close as they walked. He nonchalantly crooked his arm around her neck so he could reply with a ragged whisper, “My dick needs that pussy, baby.”
He thought he felt a shudder run through her. Yes, he was getting all kinds of signs that there was hope for them yet. He released her from his grip and she put some distance between them, but not before letting him see her give him a sideways smile.
John took this in stride and saw it as an opportunity to get to know the other campers. He had to know what they all thought of that oddball Burke.
“Hey, man,” John said as he caught up to Tad. “What a place, right?”
“Eh, it's ok, but it’s no Vale, Colorado. I mean it's our second time being here so we already know the ins and outs,” Tad said.
John was surprised to hear the mono-syllabic Tad say so many words. “Really? Your wife dragged you here one time but you willingly came back for another round?” John asked.
Tad seemed like he didn't know how to respond to John at first. After a few beats he replied, “Our first trip here was a mutual decision that truly saved our marriage. But this time, it was my idea.”
John was surprised at this and pressed some more. “Wow. Well, I would love some pointers on how to handle that crazy-ass director, Burke. And, also, how to even have sex in those twin beds,” John jokingly said. Tad laughed knowingly but didn’t say anything else afterward.
John let the awkwardness of the moment sit there until he made his way back to his wife’s side, wondering what she and Brynn had been talking about.
The foursome soon made their way to the spa building which overlooked Logan Lake. The beauty and peacefulness of the majestic vista had John reaching towards Heather. She let him wrap her up in a bear hug and he felt her melt slightly. Maybe trusting the process, John thought, was a good thing. “I love you,” he whispered. “Never stopped loving you.”
At first glance on the inside of the spa, John got excited before remembering that not everything was as the website had described. This may be the right place, but the electricity was not turned on and there would not likely be any pedicures happening. Not that he’d looked closely at the spa offerings — he was not much of a pampering kind of guy — but it looked like a little bit of the luxuries of home.
“Oh, my,” Heather gasped. “This is even prettier than the pictures on the website. This is even nicer than the place I go to for spa days back home.”
From a distance, John could hear odd noises. It sounded like moaning.
John put a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “So, Brynn,” he laughed. “What kind of spa was this again? I don't think Heather was really listening to you earlier at lunch.”
Heather gave John a sideways glare and shook her head, reminding him to keep their exhibition a secret.
“Well,” Brynn said, “When I mentioned massages earlier I was talking about how the massage therapists are a bit unconventional.”
“I’m shocked,” John interjected, dripping with sarcasm.
Brynn continued, “The therapists here helped me gain confidence in meeting my husband’s needs,” Brynn said while blushing at Tad. “Tad has some very special requests in the bedroom, and sometimes it’s not easy for me to get there. So, the massage therapists do a special kind of treatment to help us release our physical and psychological toxins and increase our vibrations. And they are always eager to give you hands-on tutorials for better technique with manual and oral stimulation.”
“Um, what?” Heather said, looking like a startled rabbit about to run. “Nobody is putting their hands on my lady bits or my husband’s!”
John felt his cock harden at the thought of his wife acting so possessive about his member.
“Babe,” John said as he took her hands, “It's ok! Trust the process, remember? Nobody has to do anything they don’t want to do. And anybody who offers to put their hands on my wife is going to get a nice big knuckle sandwich.”
Heather smiled and looked relieved. John was there to protect her, and was at least happy to know she felt protected by him. He could work with that.
From behind the front desk came a tall, imposing, severe looking woman with milk-made style braids, and an oddly deep voice in accent that John could not place. “Hello, my name is Lisa. Please follow me.”
She was not friendly nor did she seem the least bit interested in making anyone comfortable. Lisa directed them down a long hallway with numbered doors. From behind each door John could hear faint moans. He could not tell if these were erotic moans or not. Something was off, but he was still in it for his wife.
Hoping to see that Heather was relaxing, he chanced a glance her way and found that she was looking tense.
“Hey,” he whispered, “we don't have to do this. We can turn around and leave. Say the word.”
“Thank you for saying that John,” she said in return, “but, I want to do this for you -- for us.”
“Here we are!” Lisa said, snapping Heather and John to attention. “This is your room, number 12. I have to go gather my materials, and in the meantime, please enjoy a detoxifying shower.”
Lisa closed the door and left them in the dark room.
Chapter 10
Heather
A hot shower was just was the doctor ordered.
When Lisa left them alone and their eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that they were in a bamboo-lined room with a tile floor and two rain-shower heads.
After disrobing and turning on the water, Heather identified the aroma of mint and, again, rosemary.
This weird retreat may not allow their campers the use of electricity because of “vibrations” or whatever silly made-up reason, but they must at the very least use a gas water heater.
She thought ahead until dinner. Hopefully they would have something flame grilled and more substantial than that pitiful excuse for a lunch.
She was still starving. Whatever herbs they put into this water t
ank was making her even hungrier.
Heather closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the hot water cascading over her body, washing the dirt and sweat away. She told herself that perhaps starvation was part of “trusting the process.” Maybe there was something to these “vibration” things the counselors kept talking about. She had read an article about how fasting makes a person more alert and aware and focused. Maybe out here in the wilderness, deprived of food and nice things, they could be able to forget about the stress of daily life and focus on what was really important.
She opened her eyes and could see immediately what John thought was most important. He had an erection the size and girth of the Tower of Pisa. And he was staring at her breasts in a way that made the hunger pangs recede into the background.
“Babe,” he said, his voice choked with need. “The kids are fine. There are no texts or emails to answer. No grocery lists. No house repairs. No nagging calls from work. Nobody asking you to head up a bake sale or dig a well or whatever the hell people keep asking you to do with our money. It’s just us.”
She remembered him reaching for her sex under the picnic table like a horny teenager. She had surprised herself by opening up to him, letting him have his way for a bit to see if it would wake her up. Clear the fog. It had worked a bit, in terms of basic biology. It was exciting and her pussy responded to his touch. But there was still something missing — something was blocking her — and she didn’t know what it was.
And then, despite the shower steam that rose around them, John helped clear the fog a little bit more by touching her face and speaking to her.
“I’m here for you. If you can’t stand, just fall down and I’ll catch you. If you’re tired, I’ll carry you for the rest of my life.”
It was everything she had needed to hear from the beginning. Heather reached up and covered his lips with her hands to quiet him. She was going to give him what he wanted, what she wanted. He deserved that much for sticking with her through this crazy adventure.
It had been a long time — too long — since she’d pleased him with her mouth. She was ready to do at least that much.
Holding on to John’s hand so she would not slip, she lowered herself to her knees, while her eyes stayed locked on his.
She ran her hands up his defined legs, over his muscular thighs, finally gripping his ass. John’s face was full of need and surprise at the same time. “No foreplay necessary, babe, just do it,” he growled.
She bit her lip so she would not giggle at his exuberance. She so loved to surprise him.
John stepped forward an inch or two toward her, away from the falling water. His wet cock was huge and red with lust. A tiny pearl of pre-cum appeared before he face as she studied it. She reached up and cradled his balls in her hand as John moaned. “Damn, woman. Stop torturing me. My balls have been blue for you for months. I’ve been dreaming about your sweet, pouty lips sucking me dry.”
But just as Heather opened her mouth to take him in, there was a knock on the door.
“Hello in there! Time for your detox!”
John bellowed in red hot anger. “Fuck!”
He turned off the water and went to the door, evidently looking for a way to lock it from the inside. Heather stood. The moment was over.
For a marriage retreat, these people really know how to spoil my very fragile mood, Heather thought.
Lisa and John argued through the door while Heather, resigned, fetched some nearby towels and handed one to John. “Here.”
John and Heather covered themselves and finally let Lisa in.
Lisa entered their room, trailed by another female in a similar uniform, and eerily matching blonde milkmaid braids. The two women were carrying — of all things — tree branches that had been tied together to form some sort of rudimentary broom.
“What is this?” Heather asked.
“There’s nothing to clean up in here, you all interrupted us before we could get that far,” John said, seething.
Heather’s heart broke a little bit for her husband. She really wanted to reward him for sticking it out this long, and he was being understandably brusque with Lisa and her assistant.
Lisa pursed her lips. “These are birch branches, a symbol of purity and healing. As I said, this is the physical detox session. The shower opened up your pores, and now we will beat you with branches to release the toxins for good. Up against the wall, please.”
Heather looked at John, whose mouth was agape and his eyes wide. “Fuck that,” he said. “I didn’t pay five figures to come here for some scary lady to beat me with sticks. What the fuck kind of place is this?”
Lisa nodded. “And we thank you for your considerable donation to the cause. But all along, we remind you to trust the process. The elimination of toxins will help you connect with your partner much more closely.”
John pointed a finger and Lisa and shouted. He was having none of it. As he shouted, Heather mentally parsed out the words that Lisa had said and something rang an alarm bell in her head. “Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “What do you mean by donation to the cause?”
Lisa started to explain, but Heather didn’t hear a word of it. Suddenly, John was forcefully dressing his wife and shouting, “Nobody is putting a hand — or some weird tree branches — on my wife. If we wanted to get into whips and chains and shit, we’ll do that privately, thank you very much.”
Before Heather could get a clear answer to what Lisa had meant by “donation,” John was pulling her down the hallway. As they passed the other rooms, they could hear moaning and the sounds of faint, gentle whipping with branches. But in one of the rooms, Heather heard crying. It sounded like Brynn and Tad were arguing.
It sounded like Brynn was accusing Tad of something. “You lied to me! You said you wanted to come back here to work on us, but you can’t even look at me! I know what you’re doing. You’re looking for Dave!”
Uh-oh.
A moment later, John was pulling Heather back up the path in the woods toward the main lodge.
“Where are we going?” Heather asked.
“To find out what the fuck is really going on around here,” John said.
Chapter 11
John
First order of business, find out who’s running this crackpot camp, thought John, marching his wife back up toward the lodge.
She was practically running alongside him up the trail to keep up. He was ready to wring someone’s neck.
Second order of business, get the hell outta Dodge.
“Babe, talk to me,” Heather pleaded. “What are you going to do?”
But he was of a one-track mind. Whether it was pure horniness or just feeling like they’d been duped into agreeing to some weird sex shit that he wasn’t into, he was just so damn mad.
He blasted through the front door of the main lodge and roared, “Burke!”
But there was no Burke. There was just a sign that read “quiet please,” with a drawing of a stick figure shushing him. He resented that. The words on the bottom of the sign read, “Therapy in session.”
Confused, he turned to Heather to speak.
But just then, he was interrupted by someone appearing out of the darkness, dressed head to toe in khaki, just like Burke.
“You’re just in time for group therapy, Heather and John,” the new counselor whispered. He looked them up and down. His face showed the slightest hint of judgment, but then it passed. “I see you haven’t yet received your issued uniform yet. We’ll let it go for now. We find it soothing for everyone to wear beige. Right this way.”
John followed but wasn’t quiet about it. “Where’s Burke? Who the fuck is Guru Dave? What is this place? What’s with the beige? I want answers.”
The counselor was calm and serene and answered none of John’s questions. Instead, smiling, he led them into a room that was laid with comfy floral floor cushions in a circle. On the floor sitting cross legged were several other couples. Some of them John recognized as among
the richest of the rich in the country. Some of them, he’d even worked on projects with before. Others he recognized from a movie premiere he and Heather had been invited to attend with some of their celebrity friends.
He was taken aback that so many people he respected had bought in to this wack-a-doodle retreat. And yet, here they were.
“John,” Heather whispered, taking his arm. “That’s…”
He looked over at his wife and her mouth was agape staring at one of the women in the group, who happened to be the most famous actress in America.
He murmured under his breath. “Whoa.”
“What do we do now?” she asked.
John knew what she meant. They, too, were famous. They could not be seen causing a scene in a place like this. It would expose them and their children to crazy rumors about the shakiness of their marriage. He could not give less of a shit about his own reputation. But he would do anything to protect his wife and his three babies.
“I guess … we have a seat,” he said, with more of an edge than he intended. So, they did.
The mystery counselor still had not introduced himself, instead he said, “Claudia, why don’t you start.”
He was looking right at the actress that John had recognized, who was sitting next to her equally famous (famous only by being married to her) husband. She was beautiful in the inaccessible way that movie stars often are, but honestly, John didn’t feel star struck. He glanced over at Heather, who was watching him watch Claudia. He still, only and ever, had eyes for his wife.
Then Claudia spoke, and she had the same voice he had heard her speak in on the silver screen half a dozen times.
“Ok. My name is Claudia, and this is my husband, Ben,” she said. “We are here because we have been having a terrible disagreement and we can’t seem to reconcile it no matter what we do. We have hurt each other’s feelings, argued in front of our nine adopted children and each of their nannies. It’s been horrible.”
In It For My Wife Page 4