“I don’t know, Mike. Do you know how fucked up all this sounds?”
“Dave, I know it’s not without some emotional pain on your part—and I told Ashley that—but do you really believe she wouldn’t stray if this hadn’t happened between her and me? Only you wouldn’t know about it, or be part of it. And that would be destructive. This is about building things up between the two of you. And it will take the pressure off you.”
“Pressure? What pressure?”
“You’re not going to have to beat yourself up about your performance issues or be scared you’re not satisfying her. Once you accept this and see its benefits, you’ll feel greatly relieved.”
“Why, because you’ll be fulfilling that role?”
“Dave, this isn’t about me, it’s about Ashley and her happiness. You will still be the central man in her life. But sexually, Ashley needs a strong man to take control, bring out the submissive side that she’s anxious to explore.”
“Jesus,” I said in a daze.
“And it’s good for you as well.”
“How is this fucking good for me, Mike?”
“Well, beyond the pressure being off, you’ve told me how you’ve continually masturbated thinking of this Jim Murta guy. Well, now, you’re getting to hear her get fucked. You’ve heard things that before you could only fantasize about. Don’t tell me you haven’t been jerking off, Dave.”
“I don’t want to talk about that, Mike.”
“OK, how about you look me straight in the eye and tell me you haven’t jerked off this past weekend.”
“Jesus, Mike, that’s private now, OK?”
“That’s the problem, Dave, perhaps if you told Ashley about your fixation, she might let you watch us. Imagine the orgasm you’d have jerking off as you see me fuck your wife.”
“You suggested that to her?”
“No, I’m going to wait and let you bring that up to her when you’re ready, when you think you can handle that and you’re both more comfortable and talking more openly.”
“Good God,” I mumbled.
“It’s funny,” he replied, “she said she’s come to realize you’re more submissive than she is—which is natural, by the way.”
“What?”
“It’s natural in this type of situation. She’s submissive to a dominant man, and you’re submissive to her.”
“I meant what did she say about that?”
“That she saw a change in you after you learned she’d cheated.”
“Change? How?”
“Well, she knew and knows you’re scared of losing her. And you tried harder, took her out to dinner more, deferred to her, doted on her more.
“But it’s more than that,” he added, “I think she’s starting to really like being the one in control in your relationship. I think there’s an element of her that likes seeing you humbled.”
“She said that?”
“In so many words,” he replied. “I don’t think she wanted to get caught, but you have to know it made it more exciting to her that night in the bathroom, fucking that guy as you knocked outside.”
“What did she say about that night?”
“We didn’t talk actual details.”
“What did she say about this guy before Jim? Who was he, do I know him?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Who was he? Mike, you said you gained insight, learned about this other guy—so share it, like you said you would.”
“I’m sure that in time she’ll tell you. Be frank with her, Dave, and it will open doors to honest dialogue.”
“What, so you’re not going to tell me?”
“I don’t want to act as the middleman. It needs to be between the two of you. And I understand if you need more time.”
“Wow, OK, so I guess you didn’t mean what you said on Saturday about giving me insight.”
“Things changed, Dave. I’m trying to facilitate communication, which is not happening right now between the two of you.”
“Yeah, but it hasn’t stopped you from telling her it ‘turned me on,’ Mike? You planted that image in her head. You have her thinking I’m a fucking cuckold.”
“Well, Dave, do you think you’re not?”
“Fuck you, Mike.”
“If you’re going to be like that Dave, I can leave.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You just don’t understand how life-altering crazy this is, if anyone I knew, knew ...”
“Fuck people you know. They won’t find out, and your private life is private. You want Ashley to be happy, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“I’m going to help you make her happy, Dave, and she will still always be yours, but—”
“But what?”
“If you want to see me fuck your wife with your own eyes, you are going to have to talk to her about it. I’m sure, if you’re honest, she will more than agree.”
“Jesus, Mike.”
“Did Ashley kiss you when she got home last night?”
“Yeah,” I said before adding, “why?”
Mike was clearly getting at something.
“Good girl,” Mike said.
“Why?” I asked again.
“Because it shows she follows my instructions. I told her to. That’s good. And she kissed you before brushing her teeth?”
“Yes, Mike, why?” I said, beginning to suspect the answer.
“We came back to your apartment at the end of night. We went up to the roof. Nice roof deck you have, by the way. Nothing like getting a BJ from a guy’s wife, looking at that two-plus carat wedding ring on her hand, wrapped around your cock, knowing her husband is waiting up for her down below.”
“You came in her mouth?” I said, my stomach in knots.
Mike looked me in the eye, patted me on my back and said, “Relax, Dave, I was just bringing out the sub in her. And she behaved like a good little sub for me.”
I thought of guys I know. How any one of them would be clocking Mike in the face right about now. Then I thought how none of them would ever be remotely in this situation in the first place.
“Ashley tells me you’re going to San Francisco tomorrow,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said.
“It will give me more alone time to work with her.”
“Mike, please, why are you trying to make me a fucking cuckold?”
“Dave, I’m not trying to do anything, man. It was obvious from the first time we talked that you were mentally already going down this path, this slippery slope.”
“Slippery slope?”
“To becoming a cuckold. I could sense those horns growing each time we talked.”
“What are you talking about—horns?”
“You’re growing a nice pair of cuckold horns, Dave—have you not heard the expression?”
“No.”
“Google it when you get home tonight. Only Ashley can cuckold you, but I’d say she’s doing a pretty good job of it already. I’m thinking you’re gonna have a nice set of antlers before long, and I think, this is just the beginning, my friend.”
I reached for my beer, and felt my hands start to tremble.
EPILOGUE
A few years ago, I started keeping a journal.
My father encouraged the habit—he has over fifty, going back to the ’80s. Mine mostly chronicled mundane work events and, occasionally, some longer-term career aspirations.
“You’ll never read most or any of it again,” he said, “but talking to yourself by writing it down has a funny way of giving you perspective.”
My journal changed abruptly last summer. My last business entry ended the night Craig told me the rumor.
Soon, I had a new journal hidden in my closet. I tried to get as much as I could down while it was happening. This has been an attempt to give it some coherency.
I’m not exorcising demons, just trying to understand how all this happened.
And how I found myself in the world I am in now.
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