by Blaise Quin
I got up and went around the table and put my hands on her shoulders. “Let’s just give it a try, okay? If it doesn’t work, we can think of something else.”
Andie reached for my hand and held it. After a while she said, “Okay. As long as we have our expectations straight.”
That night we went to a bar; I thought there would be more opportunities for Andie to see some different men. We were there for almost two hours, and I could tell Andie was as nervous as I was. Whenever a new guy came in, she’d give him a quick glance, then turn her attention back to me or to her drink.
I didn’t really know what to talk about. The usual mindless chatter of married people? How was your day? Such and such happened to me at work? We lapsed into long periods of silence. Every so often I’d check out the men in the bar. Which ones would Andie be interested in? Should I ask, or point them out? How about that one? Would you like to imagine him naked? Would you like to think of him fucking you?
It was too artificial, too forced. Andie seemed to be thinking the same thing, because at almost the same time we both said, “This isn’t going to work.”
We both laughed, the tension broken.
“Well, at least we tried,” I said.
“I don’t think it was a bad idea. Maybe I did at first, but it should have worked, it kind of worked before.”
“Wrong bar? Wrong crowd?”
Andie looked around the room. “Maybe. I see a few men that, well, at least would be interesting to look at.”
I quickly scanned the room. Who?
Andie went on. “It might be because you are here. I can tell you are staring every time I turn my head.”
“Sorry,” I said sheepishly.
“Don’t be. If the roles were reversed I’d be doing the same thing.”
“Maybe—maybe I could leave,” I said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think that would work either. At least the first time.”
The first time. Like maybe she’d want to do this again.
“Can you think of an alternative?” I asked tentatively.
Andie considered. “Maybe if I was alone somewhere. Without you there.”
I gulped. “You’d want to go out by yourself and check out men?”
“I go out all the time by myself, or with my girlfriends. You know that. And we’ve already admitted we look at other people. Maybe I just need to let that happen naturally.”
“It seems different now,” I said. “Before, I didn’t know about it, or think about it. Now it would almost seem like you are cruising.”
Andie’s eyes flared. “I’m not some kind of slut. If you think that way, this will never work.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” She was right. What difference did it make now? She’d probably been checking men out for years. Just as I’d notice a good looking woman.
The difference was that I didn’t fantasize about them when I was having sex with my spouse.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m not sure I want to see who you are looking at anyway.”
“I understand that, but if this starts to make you jealous, I won’t do it. I know you might have mixed feeling, but if you are going to be angry or jealous, then no deal.”
I nodded. I didn’t know if I could promise that, but I understood. “So how do we do this? Do you want to just go out sometime by yourself?”
“Let’s not plan it. It will happen or it won’t.”
But there was a flush in Andie’s cheeks, and a sparkle in her eye, making me think she was looking forward to it after all, without me around.
All the next week I found myself thinking about it all the time. At work, I imagined Andie out shopping, going back to the store at the mall. Or sitting in some restaurant at lunch, checking out the male diners. One night she went out with her girlfriends, and I pictured them at some bar, laughing at men who were leering at them, and secretly, or not so secretly, lusting at hulking men on the prowl.
Would Andie reveal our secret to her girlfriends? I didn’t think so. But some of them were still single, and might be looking to hook up. And even the married ones—what did they talk about? Did they check out men just like men checked out women? Would it be harmless girl fun, or would Andie be committing certain men to memory, guys she could fantasize about while having sex with me? Or maybe she wouldn’t even wait for me, maybe she’d rush home in the middle of the day after seeing some hot guy, and fuck herself with her dildo, giving herself the pleasure I couldn’t.
I was going nuts.
I worked myself into a frenzy, and then into a bit of anger. Andie hadn’t really given me the opportunity to give her what she needed. Sure, she thought she had, but at the time I didn’t fully understand, I didn’t know about her specific desires, her want of more forceful sex. She said she had always hoped for someone who was kind but who could also be rough in bed. I could do that.
I’d prove it to her.
The whole fantasizing about other men, that was just a crutch, a foolish idea. We didn’t need that. Why should my wife need to be thinking about some other guy when she had sex with me? I had been caught up in it all, but it had gone too far.
Sooner or later, Andie would compare those other men to me. And find me lacking. Or the flirting would not be enough, she’d need more and more. Maybe she’d even need to take it to the next step, and do more than flirt. I’d have let it happen, and would be helpless to stop it.
I didn’t want us to go down that path. We might never be able to get back. Instead, I’d take charge. I’d be the man Andie had always dreamed about, the powerful, sexually dominant one.
Starting right now.
I called her up in the middle of the day from work. In my most manly voice, I said, “I’m taking you to dinner tonight.” Not, Do you want to go out? I just told her what I wanted her to do.
I don’t know whether Andie noticed anything different in my voice, but she said, “Sure.”
I’ll pick you up on the way home from work.”
“I’m going to meet one of my girlfriends this afternoon to go shopping, and then we were planning to have a quick drink. Maybe I could just meet you at the restaurant?”
“Um, okay.” That wasn’t exactly how I had pictured it, but I’d make the best of things. It wasn’t the dinner but what came after that would be important. “Seven o’clock. See you then.”
While still at the office I made the reservation for dinner and texted the information to Andie. I began planning the night out in my head. I’d pick up some flowers at the end of the day, and a bottle of wine better than what we kept at home, and after a candlelit dinner I’d take Andie home and present her with the flowers. I’d open the wine and we’d sip it in the dining room. That would be the gentle me. Then I’d ravage her in the bedroom. Or maybe in the dining room, we’d certainly never had sex there. I’d shock her with my aggressiveness, I’d tell her what to do. Maybe I’d even shove her up against the wall, just like she had described to me when she talked about the black man. During the day my mind strayed, thinking about how it could play out.
I’d show her once and for all that she could get everything she wanted from me. Just me.
I left the office extra early, wanting to leave nothing to chance. But as luck would have it there was an accident on the highway. I steamed as I waited for the traffic to clear. When I finally broke free I thought about skipping the flowers and wine but I had the whole evening so set in my head I didn’t want to change anything. I drove like crazy to the wine shop, then to the florist. As I left the store I realized I was going to be late, so I called Andie.
“Sorry, there was an accident, I’m going to be a few minutes late.” I could hear laughter in the background.
“No problem, Peter.” Andie sounded animated. “I’m already at the restaurant. I’ll just have a drink at the bar until you get here.” I heard a deep voice in the background and then a little laugh from Andie, like she was responding to someone. “No need to hurry.”
I was relieved. She had arrived at the restaurant early, so she must be really looking forward to our evening together.
I relaxed a little as I drove. Nothing to worry about.
The restaurant parking lot was jammed and I had to park all the way in the back. I thought about bringing in the flowers to surprise Andie, but realized they’d be better off in the car, and besides it would give me a way to extend the soft romantic part of evening, and would make a clear contrast to what was to come later.
The restaurant was one of those modern designs, all glass and metal, set aside a manmade lake. The outdoor patio was closed, it was a little too cold. The patio was set right off the massive bar, which looked out over the lake. It was brightly lit, and I could easily see inside as I circled around from the back toward the front entrance.
Andie and I had been here a few times; she liked the place. I realized now that it might have been because it gave her a chance to people watch. I had never found it that interesting, just looking at other people, but at the time her doing it seemed harmless enough. We’d have dinner on the patio in the summer, or sit inside at a table where Andie could see the bar patrons. Sometimes I thought it was our age difference; I was more interested in talking, she was still young enough to be enamored by what people were wearing, or how they looked.
Now I wondered if it had been more than that. If she had secretly been picking out men. Men to fantasize about.
As I made my way up the walkway I glanced through the big windows at the bar crowd out of habit. I figured Andie would be on the other side, toward the front entrance, so she’d spot me when I came in. So I did a double take when I saw her at the back end of the bar, not very far from where I was walking. She was standing next to a broad shouldered guy who must have been well over six feet, because Andie is pretty tall and he towered over her. She was looking up at him, her face only partially visible to me, but even in profile I could tell she was enthralled by whatever he was saying. She toyed with her hair as he spoke, and in the floor to ceiling windows I could see her shuffle her feet a little, like she was nervous or energized.
I stopped short. Who was that guy? Someone she knew?
The man held up two fingers to get the bartender’s attention. The bar was packed but the bartender hastened over to fill his order.
The guy was buying drinks for my wife.
I stood there like a statue, probably visible to anyone who looked out, although it was much brighter in the bar than out here. But nobody looked my way. Certainly not Andie. All her attention was focused on the man she was with.
I thought she’d shake her head, decline the drink, say her husband was about to arrive, but she just kept listening raptly to the guy. When the drinks were set on the bar the guy picked one of them up and handed it to Andie. For a second their hands touched and I felt a shiver run through me.
Get a hold of yourself, Peter. Andie’s an attractive woman at a bar. You can’t blame some guy for buying her a drink. He’s probably just being polite. For all you know his wife is in the ladies’ room.
But while my mind was telling me that, my body was having the reaction I now recognized and understood. One part of me wanted to burst in there and tell the guy to beat it. But another part of me swelled with pride. My beautiful, sexy wife was drawing the attention of this stud guy. My wife.
I couldn’t move, my plans for the evening suddenly put on hold. I realized, with a sense of foreboding, that I needed to watch this. I had started all this.
I moved back toward the parking lot. There wasn’t really any place to hide, but I stood behind a row of cars. No doubt I might be spotted by Andie, but she might not even recognize me in the dark.
As her conversation with the tall stranger went on, I noticed that she didn’t once look at her watch or her phone or glance toward the front of the restaurant. Surely she’d be wondering where I was; it was well past seven by now. And no other woman showed up; it seemed pretty clear that the guy was alone.
With my wife.
Well, maybe not alone, they were in a crowded bar. But everyone made a little space around them, as if the guy had some kind of power. And he was standing very close to Andie, or she was standing very close to him. I wasn’t sure whose decision it was, but they were definitely in each other’s space.
At one point Andie threw back her head and laughed. I don’t think I had seen her that animated in years, if ever. She placed her hand on the guy’s arm, and I cringed as she touched him, even though it was probably just some innocent gesture. But Andie wasn’t the touchy type, and to top it off, she leaned in a little closer, and her leg bent at the knee, like one of those pictures you see of a woman in the throes of a deep kiss.
My knees buckled too, as I saw her toned leg rise. She was wearing a bright pink dress, short enough to show some leg, and she had on a pair of sexy black pumps. I watched as the guy said something else and Andie tossed her head and reach out again for the guy’s bicep, and this time she didn’t take it away so quickly.
My heart was racing. This guy was obviously hitting on my wife; he had to know she was married, she always wore the rather sizable ring that I had bought her. And Andie must have told him she was married. I think anyone seeing them, though, would have assumed they were together.
Still, because the guy must know she was married, she was off limits, it was just a little flirting on his part. And hers. We had talked about this. But talking about it, and seeing it, were two very different things.
Especially when it wasn’t just Andie giving a guy some coy look, making a flirtatious comment. She was touching him.
I tried to relax. I focused on the fact that she was mine, not in an ownership sense, but she was my wife. The fact that some brawny guy was interested in her made me the lucky guy, not him.
Maybe I’d tease her about this later, pretend I was the guy, acting all disappointed when her husband arrived.
I’d seen enough. I was just about to go inside, my head now screwed on straight, when the guy leaned over and whispered something in Andie’s ear. Instead of pulling back as he pushed into her personal space, her arm came up behind him, touching his broad back, almost as if she were giving him a hug. Whatever he said, it affected her. I knew her mannerisms, and even through the glass I could tell she was reacting. She shook her head, but it was a playful shake, like she was listening to a joke. The guy whispered some more, and now she grew thoughtful, and this time her shake was less sure, but not a refusal, it was like she was considering something.
When the guy straightened up Andie finally looked away from him, her eyes glancing furtively around the bar, as if she had been caught doing something. Or was afraid someone would see what she might be doing. She didn’t look outside toward me, or she likely would have spotted me, I had been drawn forward by all of this, and was now just a few yards from the patio.
My first thought was the worst. That he had propositioned her.
No, that wasn’t the worst thought. The worst thought was that she hadn’t slapped him, or at least walked away.
She seemed to be considering it.
That couldn’t be it. You’re an idiot, Peter. He probably just told her some off color joke, and she’s embarrassed, looking around for me to come save her.
Andie didn’t move, and now her eyes were back on the guy, and he seemed to be waiting for her. She was staring into his eyes.
As I watched I should have been angry, I should have been mad at him, even at her.
Instead, the pride I had felt earlier, the pride about this beautiful woman being my wife, and capturing the obvious attention of this big strong man, was overwhelming any thoughts I had of anger.
So much so that I wasn’t only proud, but I was getting aroused.
I was watching some guy hit on my wife, and her responding to him, and instead of being driven by jealousy I was suddenly rock hard. I shifted from foot to foot as I felt my cock stiffen. Wild thoughts came unbidden into my head. What if the plan h
adn’t been for me to meet her tonight? Would Andie have let this guy touch her some more? Would she have kissed him?
Would she have gone somewhere with him? I had a sudden vision of her hand, not just lingering on his arm but reaching around his back, her legs wrapped around him.
This wasn’t harmless man watching, or even flirting. This was something more, something else. Could this possibly be what Andie had in mind when she had talked about checking out a guy? It seemed so risky, so dangerous.
She had told me that she didn’t like teasing. That if she started something, she’d follow through.
I couldn’t take it any longer. I stumbled away, back into the darkness of the parking lot, tripping over my own feet as I kept my head twisted to see what they were doing. My heart was beating so fast and my raging hard on would be noticeable to anyone, so I couldn’t go into the restaurant, not yet. I practically ran back to the car and crawled inside.
It took me a few minutes to calm down. I kept looking back toward the restaurant, but I couldn’t see into the bar from where I was sitting, way at the back of the lot. A car drove by looking for a parking space and I slunk down in the seat, for some reason not wanting to be seen.
All I could think about was what Andie was doing at the bar. Did she still have her hand on the guy’s arm? Had he taken that as an invitation to touch her? Everyone else there must be assuming they were together. Nothing would stop him from putting his hand on her arm, on her leg, on her thigh. . .
Or even kissing her.
Would Andie let him do that?
Of course not. She was married to me! She was expecting me any minute. She wouldn’t take the chance, even if she wanted to, of being caught by me as I walked in.
I tried to think of any other explanation for her actions. Maybe she knew the guy from somewhere. He might be an old friend, and them standing so close together nothing more than being comfortable together. Maybe they had even dated, way before we were married, and they were just reminiscing. Or maybe he was gay.