Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me

by Maxwell, Megan

  11

  Oktoberfest, the most important beer festival in the world, begins. Eric has agreed to meet friends and family there.

  I’m wearing a dirndl and look like a typical German peasant. I am wearing a long skirt, an apron, a bodice, and a white blouse. I start to put my hair in braids, convinced Eric’s going to love this look.

  There’s a knock on my door, and Flyn comes in. He’s incredibly handsome in his short brown leather pants, suspenders, grayish jacket, and little green hat.

  “Are you ready?”

  “You look fantastic, Flyn.”

  I get up and take a spin. “Do I look German dressed like this?”

  “You look really good, but you’re like me. Neither one of us has a German face.”

  We both laugh, and I go back to braiding my hair. “Please tell your uncle I’ll be down in five minutes.”

  Flyn leaves, and I finish doing my hair and spin again, only to find Eric watching me from the door.

  “I don’t know how you do it, but you always look gorgeous.”

  My mouth goes dry. What a husband I have.

  He’s the beautiful one, the handsome one, the impressive and alluring one!

  He’s wearing long brown leather pants, a beige shirt, and a pair of really dramatic tall brown leather boots. I never imagined a Bavarian Eric could be so sexy.

  Turns out I like how he looks in leather. I should ask him to buy himself something in leather.

  I repeat what I did with Flyn. I spin around so he can see me, but, before I know it, his hands are on my waist, and he’s kissing me with a certain air of possessiveness. Oh yes . . . I adore his intensity.

  I put my arms around his neck and leap up to encircle him with my legs.

  “If you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to close the door and lock it, and the festival is going to be in this room.”

  “I like that idea, sweetheart.” More kisses . . .

  “What are you doing?” says Flyn, surprising us. “Stop kissing and let’s go. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

  “We’re not done,” says Eric as he untangles from me when he sees that Flyn, his arms akimbo, isn’t going to leave without us.

  Dexter and Graciela are waiting and looking adorable in their Bavarian costumes. We all get in the car and say goodbye to Simona, who refuses to join us.

  Norbert drops us off as close as possible to the Theresienwiese Esplanade, where the festivities are taking place.

  The place is jammed.

  “Can you believe this? It reminds me of the April festival in Seville,” I say. “I almost feel like shouting ‘olé!’”

  Eric is in a great mood and kisses me on the forehead as hundreds of Germans and tourists dressed in all sorts of ways continue with their fun, listening to music and drinking beer after beer.

  Eric grips my hand firmly and holds on to Flyn with his other hand. He doesn’t want to lose us in the tumult.

  “Follow me,” he says to Dexter and Graciela.

  As we walk, I notice all the stands are named after beer brands. At one of the larger tents, the bouncer at the door lets us in when he sees Eric. There’s music. People sing, dance, and drink. Everyone’s having a good time. Eric pauses, looks around, and finally locates what he’s looking for.

  “This place is about to overflow,” I shout.

  Eric nods. “Don’t worry,” he says, “we have a reserved spot every year.”

  In the back, amid all the partying, I see Frida and Sonia with little Glen in her arms as Marta and Andrés dance.

  “Look who’s here!” says Sonia once she sees her grandson.

  Flyn gives her a hug and goes immediately to make faces at Glen, who laughs.

  “Girl, you look good no matter what you have on,” says Frida when she sees me in my Bavarian drag.

  “Thank you; just make sure and tell my husband,” I say slyly. “Have you seen how handsome he looks?”

  “Yes, it’s true; your husband looks very good,” she says as she scans Eric up and down. “But my Andrés is also very handsome today and, well, well, look at how handsome his friend is!”

  My eyes follow the direction of her pointing finger, and I see Björn in all his splendor, accompanied by Fosqui the poodle and yet another blonde. People stare at them. Agneta is well known because of her TV work, and she’s soon surrounded by fans asking for her autograph. As they get closer, I realize the other blonde is Diana. Björn manages to get his girlfriend away from the claws of her fans, and, after I give him a kiss, I try to be friendly to her.

  “Hi, Agneta.”

  She looks at me and blinks.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

  “Judith.”

  “Oh yes, that’s right.” And then she turns to her friend and introduces us. “This is Judith.”

  Diana nods. We already know each other. “Wonderful to see you again, Judith.”

  I get butterflies in my stomach remembering what this woman did to me that night at the swingers’ party.

  “It’s wonderful to see you too,” I say and blush.

  And then I hear the screech of the poodle. “Eric! What a delight to see you again. Let me introduce you to Diana.”

  Mother of God, she remembers his name but not mine?

  I didn’t like her much before, and now I like her even less.

  But my handsome husband knows exactly what I’m thinking. He says hello to them and immediately comes to be by my side. He takes me in his arms and lifts me up.

  “My friends, this is my beautiful wife’s first Oktoberfest in Germany, and I would like us all to toast to her.”

  And then all these Germans around us, friends and strangers, lift their giant beer mugs and, shouting their war cry, toast to me. I grin and Eric kisses me.

  No more bad mood!

  Flyn wants to go on the rides, and Marta and I offer to go with him. I do need a little air. When we leave the tent, the mob engulfs us. Marta looks back at me, a little worried, but I let her know I’m right behind her. Flyn immediately finds his way onto one of the rides while Marta and I wait.

  “Oh man, those people are goners,” I say, pointing out some guys who are drunk off their asses.

  “They look like Brits,” Marta says. “You know, they probably tried to drink alongside some German and don’t realize that the beer at these festivals is much stronger than usual.”

  I laugh.

  “I mean, if the smallest mug is the size of a book, what can you expect?” says Marta.

  We go with Flyn from ride to ride. When we get back to the tent, Eric winks at me, and Frida takes me by the hand and makes me climb up on one of the tables to sing a typical German song. Amazingly, I know this tune, and Eric and his mother beam up at me.

  As I start to come down off the table, a man comes up to help me.

  “Do you know you’re a very pretty woman?” he says, taking me by the waist and helping me down. I thank him and walk back to my group, but, as I get nearer, I stop and feel the fury rising within me when I realize Amanda is standing right in front of Eric. What is Amanda doing here?

  I hate that woman!

  My neck itches. I scratch and curse in Spanish so no one will understand me. Suddenly, she notices me. When Eric sees her discomfort, he follows her gaze and lands on me. Annoyed, I turn around and run right into the man who was flirting with me seconds before. I realize he’s drunk as a skunk.

  “Hello again, beautiful.”

  I don’t respond.

  “Let me buy you a beer.”

  “No, thank you.”

  I turn again. I’m pissed. Very pissed. And then someone grabs me by the waist again. Goddamned drunk. I lean away and launch my elbow back with all my might. I hear a grunt and turn back to see Eric, hunched over.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  Oh my God, I’m so stupid. I’ve hurt him!

  I’m stunned. He recovers, takes me forcefully by the hand, and drags me to the side of the tent.<
br />
  “What was that about?”

  I’m about to respond, but he doesn’t let me.

  “If this is about Amanda, she hasn’t done anything. She hasn’t tried to flirt with me or in any way embarrass herself, because she likes her job and knows I don’t want her to be a problem. She finally gets it. Do you?”

  I have no plans to respond. I’m still pissed. Eric waits . . . and waits . . . and waits . . . and I see he’s getting frustrated.

  “Fine, I get it,” I finally say.

  His face relaxes, and he touches my hair. “Sweetheart, you’re the only thing that’s important to me.”

  He’s about to kiss me, but I pull back.

  “Did you just pull the cobra on me, Mrs. Zimmerman?” The look on his face, his voice, and laughter finally relax me.

  “Be careful or next time, I’ll pull the viper on you. Understood?”

  Eric cracks up and hugs me. We go back to our friends, and I’m amazed to find Graciela sitting on Dexter’s lap as he holds and kisses her. It looks like beer helped these two find their nerve.

  “Everybody kisses everybody here except me,” says Eric.

  This amuses me, and I grab him by the neck.

  “Kiss me, silly boy.”

  I don’t have to beg. He kisses me in front of the whole world, and his mother is the first to offer a toast and take a swallow of her beer. I don’t see Amanda again. She’s slithered away.

  The party goes on into the night. Björn leaves with his girlfriends, and Marta takes off with Arthur. Frida and Andrés take a tired Glen home, and Dexter and Graciela want to head back too. They’re in a hurry, and I can’t help but smile at the expression on Graciela’s face. Eric calls Norbert to have him pick us up at the same place he dropped us off. Five minutes later, Dexter, Graciela, Sonia, and Flyn are gone, and it’s just Eric and me.

  “I think someone’s going to have a very good time at our house tonight,” says Eric.

  Finally, Dexter and Graciela are going to enjoy each other, and, if everything goes well, maybe they’ll take a chance.

  Eric and I have fun for about an hour until his cell buzzes. He looks at the text.

  “It’s Björn.”

  We look at each other.

  “He’s at a swinger’s club called Sensations, and he wants to know if we might be interested in joining him.”

  My body immediately heats up.

  “We’ll go only if you want to,” says my guy as a smile sneaks up on his face. Oh, the heat!

  I’m already warmed up from all the beer, so this just makes me burn.

  I take another sip of my beer. I’m a little bit nervous.

  “Will both the women who were with him be there?”

  Eric knows the poodle and I are completely incompatible. “Just Diana.”

  I like the idea that the poodle won’t be there and that three predators want to play with me: Eric, Björn, and Diana.

  My heart beats faster.

  “I want to offer you,” Eric whispers when he sees how hot I’m getting. “I want to fuck you, and I want to watch.”

  I nod.

  “I want to do this, Eric,” I say, desire evident in my voice. “I want to do this so much.”

  Eric quickly types back on his cell.

  “Let’s go.”

  I would follow him to the ends of the earth.

  12

  When we leave the tent, Eric puts his arm around my shoulders and tries to make sure no one bumps into me. I like it when he tries to be protective. I like his possessiveness. He doesn’t like it at all when men look at me or touch me, but, in our intimate moments, it arouses him to offer me to other men.

  At the beginning of our relationship, I didn’t understand it. It seemed crazy. But after months of having sex with him, I can tell the difference. Everyday life and respect is one thing, and sexual fantasy, when we agree, is another.

  I also don’t like it when another woman looks at him or flirts with him. It makes me furious. But when we play, I like to watch him enjoy himself. I know our relationship, especially our sexual relationship, is sometimes hard for other people to understand. My sister would surely freak out and call me a degenerate or a pig or even worse, and my father couldn’t even imagine it. But it’s our relationship, with our own norms, and it works, and I don’t want it to change. No way. Eric has helped me discover a world of kink and pleasure I didn’t know existed, and I feel terribly drawn to it. I like to be watched when I’m having sex. I like it when someone enjoys my body because my partner has opened my legs to them.

  And I like watching my partner have a good time.

  I’m lost in my own thoughts as Eric makes our way through the mob. When we emerge on the other side, he calls a taxi, and we’re off.

  “You’re very quiet. What are you thinking about?”

  I want to be honest.

  “I’m thinking about what’s going to happen.”

  “And what would you like to happen?” he whispers in my ear so the driver can’t hear it.

  “What do you want?”

  He leans his head on the car seat and sighs.

  “I want to watch, I want to fuck you, and I want you to get fucked,” he whispers in Spanish. “I’m dying to kiss you as you moan. I want everything, absolutely everything, you’re willing to give me.”

  I nod like one of those bobbleheads, and my stomach flips.

  I love to hear him say “fuck.” It gets me so hot. I’m wet just from thinking about it. “I’ll give you everything you want,” I respond.

  “Right now just give me your panties.”

  I laugh aloud. Eric and his thing for my underwear.

  I discreetly take off my underwear so the driver can’t see what I’m doing; otherwise I might die of embarrassment. Eric brings my panties to his nose and then shoves them in his pants pocket.

  Twenty minutes later, I’m commando as we’re dropped off on a busy street. Eric takes me by the waist, and we walk to a bar with a lighted sign that says “Sensations.” The bouncer looks us over. Even though we are wearing our Bavarian costumes, he recognizes what we’re here for and lets us through.

  Inside, I see a lot of couples dressed like us. We head toward the back. Eric opens a door, and we’re in another place altogether. The music isn’t as loud, and everyone looks at us. Because we’re new, we attract attention.

  Eric guides me to the bar, where two men and a woman are groping each other. I’m not surprised, and I smile as I watch their kinky game. Eric gets us a couple of drinks.

  “Why are you laughing?” my husband asks me.

  I sit on one of the stools, nod toward the trio, and circle his neck with my arms.

  “I was remembering that time in Barcelona when you took me to that swinger’s bar and made me sit on a stool and opened my legs so others could see me.”

  Eric grins at the memory.

  “That night you got me hot for nothing.”

  “I was punishing you for leaving the hotel without telling me, sweetheart,” he says as he kisses my neck. “That got you very aroused.”

  “Yes.”

  My breathing gets harder when Eric, my Eric, my love, begins to raise my long skirt until it’s up near my thighs. He’s so playful!

  “There’s a man to your right who can’t stop watching us, and it would really get me going if he could see more of my wife. Is that OK?”

  His hands go up the inside of my thighs until they arrive at the very core of my desire. He touches me.

  “Yes, of course,” I say.

  He doesn’t wait another moment. He kisses me and turns my stool toward the man. The guy, who’s in his fifties and very attractive, watches us. Eric stands behind me and opens my legs and I see the stranger’s eyes dilate and sparkle.

  Now excited, I help him lift my skirt even more.

  “He’s dying for us to invite him between your legs. Just look at him. His eyes already possess you. Do you see that?”

  I nod as I get wetter,
and my breathing gets even heavier. Eric knows all this and puts a hand on my chest, then cradles my breast with it.

  “You’re delicious, my love. Very, very delicious.” The older man can’t take his eyes off us. “Have you ever had sex with a man that age?”

  I shake my head.

  “No, you’re the oldest man I’ve ever been with.”

  “How would you like to have sex with him?” Eric asks, leaning his head on my shoulder.

  “Sure,” I say, not thinking.

  At a moment like this, when I’m so hot, all I want is to be satisfied. I imagine things and turn back to him.

  “Why are you smiling, sweetheart?”

  I pin my gaze on him. I lick my lower lip. “Tonight I want to play with you too.”

  Eric gets it. I can see it in his eyes. But he doesn’t smile.

  “I want to see another man give you a blow job.”

  He looks down at the floor. “You liked watching that much?” he asks, arching his brow.

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re not afraid I might like that more than other things?”

  I burst out laughing. If there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that he’ll always like women best.

  “You like seeing me with other women, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re not afraid I might like that more than everything else?”

  He knows what I’m saying.

  “All right, sweetheart,” he says. “We’ll both play. But just a blow job.”

  A loud exclamation brings us out of our warm little bubble.

  “Eric, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you here!” My love and the stranger shake hands.

  Knowing Eric’s willing to play my game excites me even more. So much more.

  “Hi, Roger,” says Eric. “This is my wife, Judith.”

  I can barely speak, I’m so aroused.

  “Have you seen Björn?”

  The man nods as he winks at a woman who walks past us. “He’s in private room number 10.”

  Oh my . . . our friend doesn’t waste any time. I close my legs and lower my skirt. Eric kisses my forehead. During the twenty minutes or so the three of us talk, I see the older man who was staring at me has found another partner and disappears with her behind the red curtain to have a good time. But I also note that Roger hasn’t stopped looking at my breasts.