by Sean Geist
Robin laughed again and Peter couldn't help but join her. He had been so shocked when she agreed to meet him he's forgotten the whole pretense of the call; the umbrella was back in the office.
“Call me,” she shouted back at him as she drove off into the cool Phoenix night.
***
The clinic waiting room looked exactly like any other. There were uncomfortable fabric chairs lining the walls. A TV was tuned to some generic channel that ran lots of medical clips on a loop, and in the corner there was a plastic child-sized playhouse with plenty of toys, none being used at the moment. The purpose of all this detritus was to create a welcoming atmosphere; I wasn't feeling it.
Right or wrong, I, as a man, was kind of an intruder. I felt that way despite the fact the clinic did offer services for men; a couple posters on the wall told me this. I couldn't stop fidgeting under the judgmental eye of some unseen watcher.
I suffered my paranoia in silence. This visit wasn't about me, not in any sense. It was about Robin. A receptionist behind a glass partition handed her a clipboard of forms when we arrived. My wife filled them out with a cheap pen attached to a weak chain, like banks use.
She was quickly escorted past a set of double doors into the bowels of the clinic, where the procedure would be done. I was asked to wait out in the lobby, so I did.
I sat and read a few of the magazines scattered on the low end tables. Most were women's health related but a few were geared toward masculine tastes: a Sports Illustrated from three months past and a Car and Driver. I perused an article about the Diamondbacks written back before the All-Star break, when they appeared to be making a run for the pennant. Unfortunately they petered out shortly after this issue hit the newsstands and were now firmly ensconced in the basement of their division.
When I'd finished the article, I sat and stared at the posters of happy faced people encouraging me to ask my doctor if I had any of the listed symptoms of one aberrant condition or another. Veritex B was just not for me, I decided, despite what the smiling blond man sitting on a boat in the middle of a lake said.
Robin re-emerged from the double doors. I glanced at my phone; she had only been gone an hour. Her hair was a little tussled and she wore a little white wrist band on her left arm, Other than that, you would never have been able to tell she had just had a medical procedure. Unless you knew her and looked her in the eyes and saw the blank void behind her pupils.
I don't think she regretted the abortion. She wouldn't have gone through with it if she didn't want to end the pregnancy. I think she regretted having to make that choice in the first place. Or maybe she regretted not having the willpower to make Scott go out and get more condoms instead of fucking her bareback. She may have been mad at Scott for not keeping up on how many fucking condoms were in the box. I was sure she was mad at me about something, most likely the ultimatum.
Whatever the case, she had the abortion, it was over, and the future lay ahead – her future, my future, Scott's future, our future.
I gave her a hug as she came out. I was trying to absorb any of the bad feelings into myself. She hugged me back and whispered into my ear, “I'm really glad you came.”
“I'm here for you.”
I drove home. We stopped at a CVS on the way back to our house – it was still our house – to pick up some ibuprofen and pads.
Robin would stay with me overnight and drive back to Sedona the next morning.
We shared a bottle of wine that night, sitting out on the patio.
“You want to relax in the hot tub?” I asked. I wasn't interested in starting anything sexual; I wanted to comfort her.
“Doctor says I shouldn't submerge my lady parts in water for at least 24 hours, so let's skip that.”
Instead we sat silently and watched the stars.
I didn't really want to bring up our marital situation, but I felt I had to.
“You given any thought to us?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and civil.
Robin rolled her eyes. “I figured you'd bring that up.”
“Sorry. We don't have to talk about it if you'd rather not.”
“No, No. Let's get it over with.”
I felt relieved and apprehensive, not knowing what was going to come out of my wife's mouth. I waited with my own mouth shut. I said my piece already, many times. Robin knew how I felt. She knew what I wanted. We'd have to see if we shared the same feelings and desires.
Robin took a sip of wine. She set her glass down and leaned forward in her chair. “I've thought a lot about this, Peter. More than I've let you know. You're important to me. You're my husband and I love you.”
I felt my heart pounding in my ears. She was saying good things, but I feared she was just lifting my spirits in preparation for the verdict. I wasn't looking forward to the fall.
“But.” She paused. She knew I didn't like that word. “But with Scott.” Her eyes shifted off into the night. I imagined she was trying to find the right words. To say what; I couldn't know.
“Scott's complicated. I have feelings for him, deep feelings. I won't deny them.”
I felt a storm brewing in my stomach. I fought the urge to scream.
Robin continued. “They're different then the feelings I have for you. And I need to work them out.”
“But, Robin.”
“Don't talk, Peter. I need to say this.”
I shut up and tried to listen. I tried not to put words into her mouth, tried not to formulate my response. I needed to hear what she said before I leapt off the deep end. I knew all this, but it was hard.
“I can't make a decision right now, Peter. Please, understand that. But I am going to make some changes. I need to be alone for a little while. No Scott.”
That was nice to hear.
“But no you, either.”
My chest caved in, like I'd been hit by a fastball.
“I need to concentrate on my life and my work. The spa is set to open in a couple months and there are still so many things to do. I haven't even hired any staff yet.”
“So what are you going to do?” I finally got up the strength to interrupt. “Leave us both?”
“Kinda.”
That didn't sound good.
“I'm cutting you both out of my life for now, as much as I can. I still need to deal with Scott as my boss, but it will only be on a professional level.”
“So you're not going to see me or talk to me? I don't see how that's fucking fair.”
“Peter, I'll still talk to you. We can call each other, if we need to, but we should keep it to a minimum. At least until the spa opens.”
“You're going to live in his house, work with him personally and keep me at arm's length.” I had to stop talking. I was starting to shake and I had to settle down before I could continue. Robin started to say something, but I interrupted. “Guess that means you've made up your mind. I'll call the lawyer on Monday.”
Robin's eyes opened wide, “No, please don't.” Her panic was audible. “I'm moving back to my apartment. I'm not going to live in his house. I'm not going to sleep with him.”
“I won't be around, so I guess I'll have to trust you.” I was lashing out. I wasn't proud, but that's how I felt.
“Peter,” Robin said. Her voice was stern, a look of sadness crept over her face. “If you don't trust me, then yes, call a lawyer. But I wish you would. Trust me.”
I took a breath and decided I did trust her. I had to trust her or I had lost, everything. And so, once again I put off my ultimatum. I felt like a doormat, being stepped on and ignored, but on the bright side she still said she loved me and I couldn't think of any reason she would pretend that. Not since she had Scott to fall back on.
Scott, the handsome, Italian business owner who could offer her the world.
I had love and a partnership to give. Was that enough? I still didn't know and wasn't going to find out anytime soon.
Robin slept in our bed. I decided it would be too painful to sleep next to her, ye
t so far away. So I took the couch.
In the morning, she drove me to my office to pick up my car, then she headed back up to Sedona.
I needed a diversion, something to focus on other than my dissolving marriage. Robin may have said she wasn't sleeping with Scott, or anyone else, but I didn't make any promise. I thought about calling Kelly Cho, my Korean sex therapist. (She was really a veterinarian, like me, but she did wonders for my own sexual confidence.) She helped me get over the pain of Robin's cheating and guided me into the wonderful world of open marriages. I came to accept the idea of both Robin and I exploring new sexual experiences. I wanted to do it together, as a couple. My wife had done the unforgivable; she had fallen in love.
Unfortunately, Kelly was over a thousand miles away in Seattle. So, instead, I decided to explore the next best option. I went to see my red-head bartender.
Chapter 4
Robin
It's Monday, ten days have past since her trip down to Phoenix. That side trip is the furthest thing from her mind. She's back at her Camp Verde apartment, trying to get some work done away from the chaos of the construction going on at the spa.
She's talking on the phone to a woman whose past five years of life are summarized on a piece of paper she stares at.
“So, Marylyn, you've been working at the Long Beach Gym for three years now, how's that going?”
She listens as the young woman on the other end of the phone responds. She tells her what it's like to work as a full-time employee of one of Scott's other fitness clubs. Robin wonders if Scott fucked Marylyn? Oddly, that thought doesn't stir any jealousy at all. It's not that she doesn't still long for Scott, she does. It's that she's learned to see the world through Peter's eyes. She sees sex as a natural urge, one that can be fed and indulged and not allowed to rule her life. Now if Scott ever said he loved Marylyn – the thought alone is enough to tempt Robin to hang up the phone and move on to the next resumé. Imaging this woman's lips wrapped around Scott's erection arouses her; she shifts in her seat and tugs at her panties. When her mind wonders further and she hears her lover whisper those three special words into the woman's ear, her heart implodes and she's filled with a void of longing and despair.
Robin tries hard to push all thoughts of Scott and Peter out of her mind. She looks again at Marylyn's CV. Robin's boss, not Scott, no, her boss, mentioned Marylyn as a good candidate for managing the Long Beach location, but the current muscle-head who runs it refuses to retire and he's too good to fire.
Robin likes what she's hearing. The woman sounds perky and experienced and knows the business. These are all traits her future boss – being Robin – lacks. After about an hour – with her phone battery in the red – Robin makes her offer.
Marylyn tells her she needs time to think about it, time to talk to her boyfriend. She tries hard not to laugh. Of course the boyfriend is going to say no. He's probably enjoying a life on the beach, surfing and laying out; maybe he has a part-time job, maybe not. He definitely won't want his meal ticket running off to the mountains of northern Arizona. She hopes Marylyn will be smart and take the job. She gives the young woman two days to decide and says goodbye.
And with that, the Sedona Spirit Rejuvenation Spa and Fitness Center his its first employee. Robin is so proud. She wishes Peter were here to share it with her.
Peter
It took a few weeks, but I was finally able to schedule a date with my favorite bartender. Angie wore a tight black dress with a high neckline in front and plunged down her back. It was cut short, barely covering her ass, which she was shaking like a polaroid picture, her curves so inviting, covered with a thin layer of fabric. What little part of her body the dress did leave to the imagination was presented in such a way as to cover all faults and shortcomings.
Wearing that little black dress, Angie was a goddess, perfect in every way and a muse, filling men's (and some women's) minds with deliciously nasty ideas.
Currently, my attention was held fixed by her bouncing breasts. They were two buoys riding storm tossed waves moving to the steady beats some DJ I'd never heard of, was laying down; there weren't any DJ's I'd heard of if you don't count Derek Jeter.
We were dancing at a ritzy club in Scottsdale. I was the oldest person there, besides one of the bartenders; he might have been in his forties. I felt awkward and out of place but Angie did her best to make me feel included. We drank and we danced. I moved as best I could. Angie's body was liquid heat, gyrating in ways that no human body should be able to. She threw her hands around my neck, grinding her hips against my cock. It was a public dry hump – but no one was watching. At least I didn't think anyone was. I found out I was wrong a little later.
“I'm getting too old for this,” I said. I had to shout into Angie's ear to be heard over the music.
“You're not too bad,” she said. I smiled at her attempts to humor me. It felt good to know she didn't want my feelings hurt. “Let's get you some water, old man. I can't have you passing out on me. I have plans for you.”
My cock had started settling down after the dry hump on the dance floor, now it sprang back to life. She was talking about sex, I hoped she was talking about sex, and I was hungry for her. It had been two months since I'd had sex of any kind. I hadn't even masturbated since our fuck in the back office of the bar.
We got a couple bottles of water – paid four bucks a piece for them – and sat at one of the few empty tables.
“You having fun?” Angie asked. It was obvious she was.
I nodded my head, but not for the reason my date thought. I really didn't like to dance. I wasn't any good at it. Luckily, Angie made up for my lack of skill. What I was enjoying was spending time with her, and thinking about fucking her later that night.
“Wanna get out of here?” I said.
Now it was my date's turn to nod her head. I hoped it was because she, too, was looking forward to getting to the sex.
“Let me go use the rest room first.”
I went to the washroom and pissed out two beers and a gin and tonic. I was washing my hands and looking into the mirror when it hit me, how much older I was than Angie. I was nearing puberty when she was born. That thought deflated my erection in a hurry. I should be with someone my age, or at least closer to my age; Robin was only five years younger than I was.
I figured I should just enjoy the ride. Angie and I weren't serious, we were having fun. I liked her, I didn't love her.
When I came back out of the restroom, I spotted Angie at our table, and she wasn't alone. Two young guys, probably her age, were chatting her up.
I immediately got jealous and moved quickly toward them. I was concerned that they were bothering her, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to hit them for flirting with my girl. Me and my silly lizard brain.
As I got close I noted Angie didn't seem to be in any distress, and, in fact, seemed to be enjoying their attention. I stood off a ways and tried to listen in on the conversation. It wasn't easy, luckily the DJ was taking a break and the pre-recorded music wasn't as loud as the live stuff.
“Saw you dancing with the old man,” one of the guy's said. He was a little shorter than me, about as tall as Angie. He had short blond hair and wore a black shirt, opened halfway down his chest, and black denim jeans. “He your dad?”
Angie noticed me and smiled. “No.”
The other guy, dark haired and wearing a loud Hawaiian print shirt chimed in, “Then what are you doing here with him. A hot chick like you. What's up with that?”
“He's my friend,” the red-head said. Hawaiian print guy puffed himself a bit, like he thought he had a shot at her. “And we're going to go home and screw. Here he is now.”
Angie got up and sauntered over to me. She put her arm around my waist, I put mine over her shoulder.
“See yah later, boys,” I said, with a little bit too much cockiness. Not my proudest moment, but I loved having Angie brush those two clowns off and head home with me.
As we headed to
ward the parking lot I wondered again about how I felt about those guys. I really shouldn't have been jealous. Angie wasn't my girlfriend, she was my fuck buddy and I shouldn't have been so attached to her that I would see green when other guys approached her. But at the same time, she may not be with me tomorrow, but she was tonight and that did give me some claim to her affections, at least for the evening.
The early October air hit us like a blast from a walk-in freezer when we opened the exit door and walked out into the parking lot. It was really only in the low 60's, but the difference from the furnace that was the dance club, with all it's hot lights and hotter bodies generating heat, made it feel much chillier outside.
I thought about how, since Vegas, I'd developed a taste for watching my women fuck. It was an odd fetish, and one that was on the edge of reason. I enjoyed seeing a woman's face overcome with ecstasy. Up close was nice, but getting to see it from a distance, and not take part in the actual act, was intoxicating. It was also addictive and could lead to unwanted side effects – like love and other bullshit. I had never mentioned to Angie any desire to see her – to watch her – fuck other guys. I didn't know how she'd feel about that, so I kept it to myself. She knew I was married and that this was a temporary fling, that was good enough for me. Why ruin something so rare, an actual no-strings-attached physical relationship.
“I'm still surprised you haven't found a new boyfriend,” What the hell was I doing, trying to kill the unicorn?
“Who says I haven't?” I really liked how casual the joke rolled off her tongue. I also had to be careful, because if I wasn't, I might follow the missteps my wife made.
“I know you're not talking about me. I'm taken.” It was a joke, but was I really taken? Robin could easily call me up any moment and tell me it was over between us. Keep the joke going, Peter, I thought to myself. “And I doubt there are many men, like me, who appreciate their girls stepping out on them.”
“You're so old-fashioned. Any man who wants to spend time with me has to put up with my peccadillos.”