by Sean Geist
Six-years prior
The sommelier brought the bottle to their table, not a waiter, a sommelier, a staff member whose sole job was to know wine. He showed the bottle to Peter. It was an '04 Sterling Vineyards Cabernet Sauvignon. Peter had read 2004 was a good year for California Cabs due to weather conditions in the Napa Valley. He had tried a few and agreed and at $150 a bottle, it better be good.
“Good choice, sir,” the wine steward said. He stood tall and erect, dressed all in black - slacks, shirt and jacket, with a thin white tie for contrast.
“Thank you,” Peter said, acknowledging this was the wine he wanted.
The sommelier pulled his wine opener from his jacket pocket. With a few twists and a pull, the cork came out with an audible pop. He handed the cork to Peter, who inspected it. It was a good solid cork, no hint of rot. Peter nodded his head and the man poured a little into his wine glass.
Peter took the glass and tilted it. The wine had a deep red color, no hint of cork particles. Peter swirled the glass and watched the liquid cling to the side of the glass leaving clear tear drops running down showing a high alcohol content. He stuck his nose into the bowl of the glass and inhaled. He could detect a rich fruity aroma like plum and blackberry, with a hint of chocolate. He took a sip and smiled. Peter wasn't a wine connoisseur, but he could tell a good one.
Peter finished his taste while the sommelier poured some into Robin's glass.
“I think you'll like this,” he said to his date. He really hoped she did.
“I don't drink much wine,” Robin said. “an occasional white wine spritzer.”
The sommelier filled Peter's glass and left the bottle at the table.
“A toast,” Peter said. The couple raised their glasses. “To health. May little Beasley live a long and happy life.”
“To the doctor who saved him,” Robin said. Peter hadn't been fishing for a compliment but he smiled at her words.
“And to his owner.” Peter paused. He couldn't think of anything else to say that didn't sound too forward. He was still in that awkward phase of trying to impress her.
They touched glasses and drank. Robin smiled, her eyes lighting up with enjoyment; the complexity of the wine was winning her over.
“This is good,” she said, as if she doubted it would be. She took another sip.
“It'll really go well with our steaks.” Peter had taken Robin to Cristobal's, a four star steak bistro halfway up South Mountain. They were seated near a large plate glass window with an amazing view of the city. Phoenix lay sprawled out on the valley floor, orange and red in the setting sun. There were a few high-rises, but unlike most big cities, Phoenix had grown outward, not upward.
Over dinner the two got to know each other better. Peter felt so comfortable chatting with this woman. He never talked much about his early years, always being the smartest kid in his class and getting mercilessly mocked for it. With her, it was different. With Robin, he wanted to open up. Peter told her about his father leaving when he was in middle school and how he helped his mother raise his younger sister. He also talked about some of his more embarrassing encounters with women, although he avoided mentioning the time he accused his girlfriend of cheating on him.
Robin was also open about her past relationships.
“I dated a bit in high school,” she said between bites of her salad. “but I was still technically a virgin when I left New Jersey to study at A.S.U. In fact, the first guy I ever slept with was on the swim team.
“How was he? Performance-wise.”
“Average. We only lasted about six months. He ended up dumping me for a teammate.”
“What a dick. Hope she broke his heart.”
“Actually...” Robin paused as the waiter took their empty salad plates away and delivered the steaks. She waited until he left before she continued. “It was a he, and I think they're still together. He mentioned a wedding on his Facebook page.”
“Nice. So you still keep in touch with him?”
“Sure, why not. He was a nice guy. We just weren't the right match.” She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “Because I didn't have a dick.”
They both laughed.
The steaks were good, tender and juicy.
“You're so right, Peter,” Robin said after taking a sip of her wine. “This cabernet goes great with the steaks.”
“You'll also love it with chocolate cake.”
Robin smiled as she drank and imagined bitting into a moist slice.
After dinner they sat in silence, enjoying the last of the wine and looking down at the lights of the city, twinkling in the desert heat rising from the valley floor. It was a little after nine when they left. Robin tried to grab the check, but Peter beat her to it.
“Peter, you have to let me at least split the bill.”
“So, you want more work for Sven?” He was their waiter.
“Splitting the bill is not that hard. I used to do it all the time when I was waiting tables back in college.”
“How about you pay next time?”
Robin smiled. “You asking me out for a second date?”
“Only if you pay.”
Robin snickered.
On the ride back to her apartment Peter tuned in the local, light rock station, they played mostly pop hits from the seventies and eighties, nothing too hard. As they drove they firmed up plans for their next date, the following weekend. Robin suggested a movie. Peter countered with putt-putt golf.
“I'd love to,” Robin said. She absentmindedly set her hand down on Peter's thigh. “I haven't played miniature golf since I was in high school back in Jersey.” She squeezed his leg hard. “It's a really great idea.”
Peter was surprised at how forward Robin was. He enjoyed her touch and held still, afraid any movement would give her cause to move her hand away. He tried his best to keep his dick limp, but that was a lost cause. Peter could feel his penis expanding and he was sure Robin would feel it too, any moment.
Luckily – or unluckily – he pulled up to Robin's building and she did finally lift her hand. Peter noticed a slight smile on her lips and her eyes quickly dart down toward his crotch and back up. Neither said a word about it.
Robin had noticed Peter's erection. She thought about asking him up to her apartment, for a coffee or a nightcap or maybe a quick fuck. She began to open her mouth to speak but thought better. She liked Peter, found him charming and handsome and she really wanted to get to know him better. She thought a long term relationship was a real possibility and she didn't want to ruin it with sex, not right away.
Peter mistook the parting of her lips as an invitation for a kiss. He leaned over and planted one, right on her mouth. Robin was startled and began to pull back, but she continued the kiss, enjoying the taste of this man's tongue, a hint of alcohol and mint. She could feel herself become aroused.
As they sat and kissed a song came on the radio that Robin totally loved. It was Reminiscing by the Little River Band. Her mother must have played it a lot when she was pregnant because Robin could remember getting so excited when it came on the radio when she was a child.
She listened to the song as she melted into Peter's kiss. She imagined growing old with this man, a man she hardly knew. He made her feel warm and safe.
Robin started returning the kiss with a passion that surprised the both of them. She drove her tongue against his, flicking and delving through and around his lips. Their first kiss lasted almost ten minutes, well past the song that drove Robin wild, a two-fer by Fleetwood Mac, and Logical Song by Supertramp. A commercial finally came on, ending their marathon tongue wrestling.
Robin wanted to continue upstairs. Peter would not have turned her down. Robin knew if she and Peter went inside they would end up in bed together, not that that would be a bad thing, she didn't want to chance ruining their relationship in these early stages. Maybe she was being paranoid, maybe everything would be fine if they ended up fucking. It didn't matter, Robin wasn't taking any c
hances.
“Peter, I've had a wonderful time.” Why'd I say that, Robin thought.
“Me, too.” Smooth, Peter said to himself.
Silence filled the Toyota Camry. Silence and a used car commercial on the radio. The couple stared into each other's eyes. Neither wanted to be the one to end the evening, break the connection. They both would have preferred to make the night last forever.
Peter was waiting for Robin to either invite him in or say goodnight. Robin wasn't sure what she was waiting for. The stalemate was broken by a rap on the window next to Robin. They both jumped. It took Robin a few seconds to recognize her neighbor.
“Roll down the window, Peter,” she said.
“Everything okay, Miss Weston?” said the man. He was medium height with dark hair and light brown skin. He looked to Peter to be in his fifties.
“Everything's fine, Mr. Sanchez.” Robin smiled as she spoke. “We're just saying goodnight.”
“Okay.” The man turned and headed back towards the apartment building. “You should ask him in.” Neither could see the smirk on his face as he went inside.
It was another chance for Robin to extend the date, but she didn't take it. She would regret it later that evening, when she was alone, in the dark, listening to Miles Davis and masturbating.
Robin got out of the car. So did Peter. He walked around the front of the Camry to join her. They kissed again. Their lips met briefly, parted and then pulled away.
“Good night, Peter.”
“Good night, Robin. Can't wait til next Saturday.”
“You don't have to wait that long to call me.”
“I will. I mean, I won't.”
And he did, call her, every night that week.
Peter watched as his date walked up the path and entered her building. He was slightly disappointed she didn't invite him inside, as any man would be, but he was glad she agreed to a second date.
He got back in his car and headed home, making a mental note to ask Robin if she knew the name of that song, the one playing when they started kissing, the one he was humming right now. It had quickly become his new favorite.
On the drive it started raining. A light sprinkle, nothing severe. Peter was glad he still had that little yellow umbrella.
Peter
“In a perfect world,” I said, “what would our relationship be like?”
Robin and I had finished having dinner and drinks and were on our way back to her apartment in Camp Verde. We had finished all the small talk we could handle, stalled as long as we could and now we had to discuss the issue before us.
My wife didn't say anything at first. Either she didn't know or she didn't think I would like her answer. I decided to narrow it down.
“This is a free answer, Robin. I swear, no matter what you say, I won't get upset. I really want to know.”
I glanced over and saw her looking at me. “What?” I said. I turned my attention back to the road.
“Promise?” she asked.
“Promise.” A vow I would quickly regret.
“In a perfect world. I guess I'd want to have two husbands.”
That stung me but I did my best to hide it. There was that promise I made. In the calmest voice I could muster I asked, “so, you'd want to be a bigamist?”
“In a perfect world it wouldn't be called that.”
“Fine, fine.”
“I knew I should have kept my mouth shut,” Robin said. My feelings were showing.
“No!” I spat out the word. “This is important. Honesty is important.”
Neither of us spoke for a little while. The car radio was off and the only noise was the hum of the engine and the steady drone of rubber on concrete.
“What about you?” Robin asked, finally breaking the silence between us. “What would your perfect scenario be?”
“Not sure.”
“You want to go back to us, before Vegas?”
I really didn't know. The thought of life without Scott was tempting, but.
“No,” I said. I really enjoyed my own sexual exploration and I also enjoyed watching another man pleasure my wife. I liked the look she got when she came, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth opened wide. It was a vision I couldn't get up close and in the midst of my own gratification.
“What do you mean?” my wife asked.
“We've come to far. I've come to far. I have to admit, I've enjoyed my own sexual freedom. I've, learned a lot.”
“Then what's the problem?”
I said the only thing I could think of, “Scott.”
“What about him?”
“You love him.”
“What about Kim, or this Angie girl?”
“I don't love them.”
“You use them for sex?”
“Maybe, maybe I do. But I think it's mutual.”
“I can't control my feelings for Scott, any more than I could stop loving you. It's complicated.”
“Why did you sleep with him. During the soft open?”
“I wanted it to be you,” Robin said. “I was expecting you to show up. But you didn't. I was upset and horny and Scott took advantage of that. I told you this already.”
“I know,” I said. “I'm sorry.”
“I'm sorry, too. I'm not sorry about sleeping with Scott, anymore than you're sorry about sleeping with Kim. I wished it had been you. That is my regret.”
I wasn't able to explore this new thread of discussion because we were at her place. I pulled into her driveway and turned off the ignition.
“Here we are,” I said, sounding like an idiot. Yes, here we were at Robin's home, her sanctuary from work and the two men vying for her affection. I couldn't assume she wanted to invite me in and I wasn't going to ask. So we sat in silence, both of us looking straight out the windshield at the closed garage door. I started tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. Occasionally the cooling engine would emit a few ticks. Robin's right hand rested on the door handle.
Why couldn't she say something? Why didn't she invite me inside or tell me to go home.
“Well,” she said. Her voice detonated the stillness. I turned toward her. My wife was looking at me.
“Well,” I said.
Was this it? Was this were we parted ways? If she wasn't willing to ask me in, if she was too proud, I guess there was no reason to go any further. I still loved my wife, I couldn't help it. The heart wants what it wants, damn the world. But I'd had enough. I was about to tell her I was going to go home when a hint of yellow caught my eye. It was that goddamn umbrella. I had taken it out of the closet and put it in the back seat. For what reason? I'll never know.
My love for Robin broke through the dam of pride and hatred I had built and flooded through me. I gripped her left hand and felt the ring on her finger. Her wedding band – our wedding band. She still wore it. She still wanted the world to know, she was married. To me.
More pieces of the dam fell away. I grabbed her face with my hands and kissed her hard. Robin willingly melted into my embrace. Our mouths open, our tongues dueling for dominance neither of us were willing to relinquish. I ran my fingers through her soft hair. My wife moaned into my mouth.
I wanted to take this woman and ravish her. It had been so long, so fucking long. My ego made one last stand. It would not allow me to ask about taking our embrace inside. My pride was going to leave it up to her.
If she doesn't want you, it said, she doesn't want you. Live with it.
Fuck you, I said. To my pride, not out loud. Out loud I said, “can we take this inside?”
“I thought you'd never ask.” Robin said.
We quickly made our way to the bedroom. I don't even remember if I bothered to lock the car.
I sat on the bed, Robin was silhouetted by the moonlight coming through the window. Her hair, a dark shimmering halo, as beams of light shot through her shoulder-length locks. She rocked her hips as she loosened her tight jeans and slowly slid them down her thighs. Her pale skin glowed. I wanted to r
each out and touch her, but she was too far away so I had to make do with watching her striptease. And I didn't mind at all, since I'd recently learned how much pleasure I got out of watching my wife.
Robin tossed her jeans in the corner. She stood there, swaying her hips back and forth in time with the music in her head. Whatever the tune, it spoke of lust and sex and passion. My wife ran her hands up the side of her body, following each blessed curve God had granted her. At this moment, I believed God was real and God was a woman.
My wife crossed her arms over her chest and gripped the bottom of her polo shirt and slowly, oh so slowly, lifted it. Her hair cascaded down as she pulled it over her head. Robin now stood before me dressed in only a black sports bra and dark cotton panties.
She walked toward me, her dark form growing until we touched. She took my hands and placed them on the waistband of her undies. I took the not-so-subtle hint and pulled them down her legs. She put her hands on my shoulders for support as she stepped out of them. I boldly continued undressing my wife, pulling her bra off, over her head, and tossing it in the heap with the other clothing.
I reached to pull her to me, my mouth watering to suck on her nipples, but she pulled back.
“No, you naughty boy,” Robin said. “Now it's my turn. You need to put on a show for me.”
I was sure Scott never had to do this, but so what. I love entertaining my wife. So we swapped places; it was hard passing her body in the dark without groping her.
I stood a few feet away from the bed and looked down on my wife, naked, leaning back on her elbows, her pussy glistening with dew. I licked my lips and began unbuttoning my shirt. I moved my hips back and forth. Robin smiled.
“Shake that money maker,” she said.
I finished removing my shirt and threw it at her. I took my time, unlatching my belt and sliding it out of my pant loops, one at a time. When the belt was free, I folded it in two and pulled the ends apart with a quick snap. Robin jumped at the loud crack of leather against leather. Her eyes went wide.