Husbands & Wives (& lovers): Par 3

by Anne Douglas

  “We had a big dust up after everyone left.” Aaron walked forward to his ball, and Silas waited.

  “You’d never believe it.” Aaron shook his head, sounding bemused. “She thought I was having an affair!”

  The anger that had shortened Aaron’s swing during their last game was missing ‑‑ although he wasn’t quite back to normal; some tension still ran along his shoulders.

  Silas waited until Aaron followed through on his swing before he replied, “She did?”

  “Yeah. Turns out, while I was busy thinking she was having an affair, she was thinking the same of me. There were other things, too, but we’ve been working through them.” Aaron slid his club home into the bag and sat back into the seat, before driving them up to where Silas’s ball sat, smack dab center in the fairway.

  “So the pair of you are back to square again?”

  Aaron took his time answering, and looked as if he was forming his reply very carefully.

  “Well, yes and no. Yesterday, Grace and I signed a partnership agreement, and besides my usual every second Thursday golf game where you pile drive me into the ground” ‑‑ there was a smile on his face as he waved at the ball perfectly placed in the fairway ‑‑ “I’ll now be working only a collective four days a week. And starting today ‑‑ though Emma doesn’t know it yet ‑‑ I’ve taken a solid three weeks off.”

  Silas turned to Aaron, surprised. “Hell! When you do it, you don’t do it by halves, do you?” Aaron had worked long and hard over the years to make his business successful. Silas had known that, while it was a big part of who Aaron was, Emma and the kids took precedence. However, he was also a very responsible man, and sometimes needed reminding he didn’t have to be there, waiting to fix everything for everyone else. Finally acknowledging that he could let go and take on a partner was a big step.

  “My priorities were fucked up. Emma’s the one that keeps me warm at night, not my damn practice ‑‑ it just took me a while to remember that.”

  Silas extracted his chosen club and moved to his ball. Positioning his feet in an open stance, he flexed his knees slightly, settling into his body in preparation for his swing. He’d spent a lot of his free time on the course since Joan had died, finding solace in the mainly solitary sport. As he’d walked the fairways and greens, he’d contemplated his life and where it was now going.

  Somewhere along the way he’d made peace with his life again. And while he wasn’t ready to find someone else to share it with ‑‑ he wasn’t sure he ever would be ‑‑ he wasn’t averse to possibly having a sex life again. Which led him to thinking of something else he’d heard about Friday night: Joel Markim.

  “But you said not everything got sorted out?” Silas swung, instinct taking over as his body followed through his stroke. The head of the club hit the ball with a satisfying thunk that proclaimed he’d hit it true, or damn close to it. Both he and Aaron watched the ball fly through the air and land with a small bounce before it rolled across the green.

  “Damn it, Silas. Could you at least try not to show up my poor handicap?”

  Silas turned to Aaron and saw his sarcastically raised brow and his smile. “Well, don’t spend all fucking weekend in your office, then. You’re an accountant, for fuck’s sake; you’re supposed to spend at least two days a week on the links. I thought it was a clause in the Chartered Accountants handbook or something.”

  Aaron laughed back at him. It was a long-standing joke between them. In fact, Aaron had done just that when Joan had been in the middle of her seemingly endless series of treatments. Emma had stayed with Joan, and the pair of them had sent them off for some “guy time” on the golf course. Emma and Aaron truly had been his rocks in a storm over the last few years.

  They pulled up adjacent to the manicured green, and Aaron chipped his shot in from the offside rough ‑‑ unlike their last game, the shot went true on the first try. Then they both putted ‑‑ the one part of his game Aaron did have a handle on.

  As they walked back to the golf cart, there was a hitch in Aaron’s step. Then he blurted out, “Can you tell me more about the swinging thing?”

  Now it was Silas’s turn for the hitch in his step. “Um, I guess so. Why?”

  Aaron turned beet red before he answered. “One of the things that Emma said was that she missed the raunchy sex we used to have, and I want to do something to break us out of the only-in-bed-with-the-lights-off sex we’ve been having…or not having lately.”

  “Oh.” Aaron really was stepping out of his box lately, wasn’t he, Silas thought to himself. “About that not lately thing, was that part of the got sorted side of the equation?”

  There was more than just embarrassment; there was chagrin on Aaron’s face this time. “Yeah, I had a urinary infection, and I…” The rest came out in a rush. “A couple of times I couldn’t seal the deal, and Emma thought I’d gone off her. I didn’t tell her about it, you see, so she never knew about me seeing the doctor. Then, by the time I was back in fighting form…well, she wasn’t really interested, and I didn’t push it.” Aaron shrugged then said quietly, “As for the other, Joan’s passing affected us, too.”

  They both went quiet, reflective, as they moved onto the next hole, making their way down the fairway with only small talk about the game between them. After Aaron putted the ninth hole, Silas broke the silence.

  “I don’t mind telling you about it, but are you sure this is the right thing for you and Emma?”

  “No, I’m not. But I didn’t think it would hurt to find out more at least.” Aaron paused a moment. “We used to do this thing, where we told each other our most outrageous fantasies, the ones we knew we’d never actually do. Emma once said that she was curious about sex with another man. I can’t say I’m all gung ho for the idea, but maybe it will spark an idea for something else.”

  “Fair enough.” Silas contemplated what to tell his friend, what information would be the most useful. After all, it wasn’t like there was much to it when you came down to the nitty-gritty; it was just sex at the end of the day, right? Although, there were some protocols to be observed if they went the club route. The more he thought on what to say, the more uneasy he got about the whole thing.

  Aaron was a private person. He never bragged to the guys, and he wasn’t the man everyone thought was some sort of sex god. He was just Aaron, the guy you went to when you needed a shoulder. He was quiet and dependable, while at the same time still outgoing. The guy made acquaintances easily, but those who became his friends were friends for a lifetime, through thick and thin. He was the guy the leader of the pack went to for advice ‑‑ that was one of the reasons his practice was so popular ‑‑ people trusted him and so they recommended him.

  Now Emma ‑‑ Emma was the epitome of the attractive, housewifely mother figure. But Silas had always thought there were hidden depths to Emma, a spark of wild sexiness waiting to be coaxed into a flame. He and Joan had wondered about telling Aaron and Emma about the partner swapping, but in the end, even though they felt somewhat attracted sexually to the other pair, they’d said nothing. Their friendship meant much more to he and Joan than a fleeting sexual encounter would have. Obviously they’d mistakenly judged Aaron and Emma’s sex life as boringly vanilla, if Aaron was willing to at least contemplate swinging.

  Damn, he missed sex. Not just sex, but good sex. Maybe…

  “Can I suggest something? You can say no, and I won’t be offended in the least.”

  “Sure.”

  Silas looked off into the distance. “I’m not ready for a new partner, let alone a wife, but to be frank, I really miss the sex ‑‑ it’s been a while. Don’t know if I’m really into the one-night stand thing, either.” Silas looked down at his feet and futzed with the tip of his shoe with the putter he still had in his hand. “Instead of sex with a couple you barely know, what about having me as a third?”

  “Seriously?” Aaron’s surprise was understandable. “Why? Well, other than the sex.”

  “As
your son would say, ‘Dude, Emma’s hot!’”

  Aaron looked confused and sort of outraged at the same time. “Well, yeah…”

  “Your wife’s a very sexy woman in her own quiet way, Aaron.”

  “She doesn’t much think so at the moment. That was one of the things that came out during our big argument.” Aaron tapped his putter up and down against the grass, his frustration and anger apparent. “I had no clue, no idea at all, that she felt so bad about her body ‑‑ that she thought I didn’t like her body.”

  They stood there, speculating, standing awkwardly, neither one looking at the other.

  “You think she’s sexy?”

  “Yeah, I’ve always thought so ‑‑ Joan knew.” Silas rushed out a stuttering explanation. “I-I mean…it wasn’t like it was some deep, dark secret. She thought you were, too.”

  “What?”

  “Your hair.” Silas had been gray since his early thirties and kept his hair in a short buzz cut, the total opposite to Aaron’s on the long side of short, curly, and still dark-as-night style. “She always liked your hair.”

  Aaron’s posture took a turn for the really awkward, and now, of all the time during their conversation, he blushed. “I dye it.”

  “You dye it,” Silas deadpanned, before he sniggered, trying to hold back his amusement. He failed, and gales of laughter burst free. He managed to choke out, “Destroy all my illusions, why don’t you.”

  Aaron threw a punch out that landed on Silas’s shoulder. “Shut the hell up, man.”

  Silas managed to get his wild laughter under control enough to take a seat on the golf cart. The course butted up against a farmer’s property, so the ninth and tenth holes were spread apart more than usual, making the tenth hole the furthest from the front of the course. Both men were quiet during the five-minute drive.

  Silas’s suggestion had taken Aaron totally off guard. He was still only contemplating the concept, and he hadn’t even gotten as far as the “who” part of the equation. Now that he’d had a chance to work his way around it and poke at it a few times, Silas made a lot more sense than some random hook up. He could trust his wife with Silas. No, that wasn’t quite right ‑‑ he could trust Silas with his wife ‑‑ not like that bastard Joel Markim, who’d quite happily steal a man’s wife out from under his nose.

  “You know, it might just work.”

  “What?”

  “You and Emma and me.” Aaron paused as he negotiated around a fallen branch. He stopped beside it to reach out and pick it up. He threw it off the path and under one of the trees that shaded the area. “Even though I told her she had it all wrong, Emma doesn’t think she’s as sexy as she was when she was younger. What better way to show her, than with another man ‑‑ one that she trusts, not some stranger who might lie. Someone who thinks she’s ‘hot.’”

  “You can trust me, Aaron.”

  “Let me think about it, okay?” He had to be sure about this. He needed more time ‑‑ this was a big decision to make.

  “No problem ‑‑ one thing to think about though.”

  “Mmm?”

  “This isn’t just about Emma ‑‑ well, it is, but it’s about you, too, and me in a more minor way. If you want to put restrictions on things, I’m fine with that. In fact, in the scene it’s encouraged to set out your limits ahead of time. One of the things you should think about is about you and me ‑‑ are you going to lose it if one of us touches the other?” Silas shrugged. “Look, I’m not saying I want to jump your bones or anything, but hands slip, and dangly bits have a habit of touching now and then.”

  “Oh.” Aaron thought about it for a moment or two, and nearly laughed at his mental image of two men standing face-to-face, their dicks slapping up against one another, “cockfighting.” He didn’t think that was the direction Silas intended him to go with his warning. “I think I can deal ‑‑ just no sticking fingers where they don’t belong.”

  With all the stuff Silas was throwing at him about swinging and offering to be the third if he decided to go ahead with it, it was kind of pleasing to watch him choke then go red in the face, and stutter out a rude exclamation in protest.

  Chapter Seven

  Emma was on cloud nine, and she doubted anything could knock her off her fluffy perch any time soon.

  Thursday morning, Aaron had woken her with his mouth, her orgasm slowly rolling over her just as he slid inside her. She’d fallen back asleep, and found Aaron gone when she next woke. She hadn’t been worried; it was his usual every second Thursday golf game with Silas, and they always took an early tee time. Silas and Aaron had a strong friendship she didn’t begrudge either one for having. It had been built and made strong through births and deaths and everything that came in between.

  She had been surprised though, when her husband arrived home at two in the afternoon looking all outdoorsy and invigorated from his game ‑‑ he usually changed at the club and went into the office.

  But not Thursday. Thursday he’d stalked into the kitchen, swept her into his arms, and kissed her, not letting her up for air for what felt like hours. Emma smiled to herself as she remembered. Kissed wasn’t nearly a good enough description; ravished was better. Then he’d carried her off to the bedroom and made love to her again, making sure to kiss and lick at every part of her body she thought looked bad. And after that? He told her he’d taken an immediate three weeks off and to choose between Fiji, Tahiti, or Rarotonga, because they were going on holiday. In the end she’d panned the international travel in favor of renting a luxury house about four hours up North. The glass-fronted house fairly hung off a cliff above a wild and woolly western coast beach ‑‑ perfect for two people wanting time together to reconnect. She’d already started to pack the car with what they’d need ‑‑ even though they didn’t leave until Monday morning.

  “Why are you grinning like the Cheshire Cat, love?” Aaron’s arm came around from behind and pulled her back into his body. His wineglass settled on the kitchen bench with a clink before his other arm looped around, creeping up to give her breast a covert squeeze.

  “Aaron!” she hissed out under her breath, reminding him of their guest.

  Aaron had been talking with Silas on Friday and had invited him for dinner the next night. Emma was up for entertaining Silas any night of the week, but for some strange reason tonight had been different. Bizarre even. It seemed every time she turned around there was either Aaron or Silas, being so very solicitous…and very touchy. She was all jittery waiting for the next time Aaron stroked her skin, and was it bad to admit Silas’s sly touches were arousing her, too?

  You took for granted around close friends all those little things that went by the wayside. Instead of just flopping in the chair, Silas had pulled hers out and seated her. Every time she reached for something from table, Aaron had stood up and served it to her, and God forbid her wineglass get lower than half full. That was half the reason cloud nine seemed so downy ‑‑ she tended toward being a happy drunk.

  “What? Aren’t I allowed to grope my wife?” That was one of their private jokes: who got to grope whom. Although, it was usually in private, not where someone ‑‑ even if that someone was their closest friend in the world ‑‑ could find them.

  Aaron spun her around in his arms, reeling her in so her chest molded against his. Her head automatically went back, her face turning up to his, her lips waiting for his kiss. He didn’t disappoint.

  His lips brushed a small caress across hers before he pressed down firmly, his mouth moving over hers, coaxing her to open. His tongue dipped in and flicked along the inside of her lower lip, darting here and there as he tasted her. From long years of familiarity he knew she liked the gentle touch of his tongue, not to have it shoved halfway down her throat. She tasted the warm, fruity flavors of the wine they’d been drinking ‑‑ a Riesling that had pandered to her sweet-tooth palate. It mixed with the scent and tang that was Aaron’s alone and made her insides all girlishly melty. That heat and excitement t
rickled outward, tickling at her clit, while her nipples pulled into tight little points that ached to be touched.

  Aaron’s mouth was firm, yet soft, stealing her breath away. As he wound one hand into her hair and hauled her tightly against his groin with the other, his hold on her wasn’t just physical but ethereal, and it felt like his spirit embraced hers.

  Emma threw what little she hadn’t already into the kiss. Tunneling her fingers through the curls at the back of her husband’s head, her leg came up and around his as she lifted onto her tiptoes to rub against the bulge that was so evident in his jeans. Who cared if they had a guest?

  They moaned, almost in harmony. If Aaron felt anywhere near the level of greedy lust that she did, he’d have to be a very stoic man to hold in every sound.

  A footstep echoed behind them, and they broke apart. Even though she’d already thrown away all her hostess politeness in favor of a hell-bent-for-leather, sexy-as-sin grope in the middle of her kitchen, her overt public display of affection senses kicked in.

  “That was a pretty hot kiss. When you two get into it, you really get into it, don’t you?”

  Emma peered around Aaron and saw Silas leaning against the doorframe. An empty serving plate rested on the table ‑‑ she’d not even heard the clink of the china against the wood when Silas had set it down. He appeared languidly alert as he nonchalantly leaned on his shoulder; his eyes looked slumberous, heavily lidded as he inspected them.

  Emma buried her face in Aaron’s chest, heartily embarrassed to have been caught in the moment. But as her cheeks flamed, so did her pride. Aaron was her husband, her lover, the man she’d chosen to spend the rest of her life with; why shouldn’t she molest him in the middle of her kitchen? Why shouldn’t she let her inner vixen out to play now and then? Why not be as brazen as those women she’d envied as they hung off of Joel’s arm? Maybe all along she had wanted to let her missing sexy side out, instead of letting it get lost behind being a housewife and mother.