Ari Ch. 03

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ohio
ohio
4,411 Followers

Three trips later, there was another extra-attractive and extra-persistent man in the Hyatt in Charlotte, where I spent two nights. At the time I didn't think much about it--because as I've said, guys hit on me a lot. But it was the third out-of-the-ordinary guy that finally opened my eyes.

It was my second evening of a two-night stay in Chicago, and I was out celebrating a signed contract with Brad and Debra, my counterparts at a company we did a lot of business with. They'd taken me to a really good steakhouse, and afterwards we went back to the lounge in my hotel for a drink, just to enjoy a little more time together. I'd worked with both of them before, and we always had a good time together.

We were laughing about something or other when Debra suddenly looked up and said, "ohmyGod, Ken! What on earth are you doing here?" She jumped up and hugged this guy who'd just come into the bar--another tall, athletic-looking, really good-looking guy.

"Brad and Ari, this is Ken--we were neighbors and best friends in Flint, Michigan, a million years ago. Ken, Brad works with me at Albertson's, and Ari's from a company in Columbus we do a lot of business with."

Naturally we invited Ken to join us, and the four of us sat for another hour or so laughing and talking. I allowed myself a second vodka martini since I didn't have to go anywhere except upstairs to bed. It was quickly obvious that I was getting quite a lot of Ken's attention--but since there were four of us together it seemed harmless, and I allowed myself to enjoy his flirting jokes and the occasional touch on my arm.

At about 10:00 or so Brad said, "well gang, don't let me break up the party but I've really got to get home." Debra needed to leave too, and Ken offered to keep me company "while we finish our drinks." All of a sudden I was alone with this handsome guy who was flirting with me, and I'd had a couple of martinis and was feeling quite relaxed. Still, we were in a public lounge with lots of people around, so I wasn't concerned.

But Ken's flirting started to get more serious, and the touches more frequent. After about ten minutes of this I said, "Ken, it was nice getting to know you but it's time for me to head upstairs to call my husband." Just the usual lie that always did the trick.

When I stood up I felt wobbly and vague--way too wobbly and vague for just two drinks. I swayed a little and Ken grabbed me around the waist. "Whoa, hold on there, Ari, let's keep you vertical."

Before I knew it he was guiding me towards the elevator, saying, "let me make sure you get to your room okay--what's the number?"

Something was definitely wrong here. I wasn't sure what it was, only that I was feeling way too foggy. I said, "no, really, I'm all right," but Ken insisted, pulling me more forcefully, and suddenly this didn't seem okay at all.

"Wait! Help!" I called out, turning towards the reception desk. Ken tried to hurry me around the corner to the elevators, but I kept calling out until one of the clerks came out from behind his desk.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked, looking doubtfully at me and Ken, who still had a grip on my arm.

"Please, just ask this man to leave me alone. I do not need his assistance."

Uneasily the clerk said, "I'm sorry, sir--are you a guest at this hotel?"

Ken must have realized he wasn't going to get what he wanted, because he dropped my arm, said, "no--I'll just be going then," and walked quickly out the front door without even saying goodnight to me.

Feeling still more lightheaded and woozy, I managed to thank the clerk and ask him to accompany me to my room. Once I got inside I grabbed my cell and called Bobby.

"Baby, it's me. Listen, I'm not feeling so well--is it all right if we just say goodnight and I'll see you tomorrow when I get back?"

"Of course, Ari--are you all right? What's going on--where are you?"

"I'm in my room alone, but I'm feeling a little ... strange. Like I had too many drinks, but I didn't! Just a beer with dinner and two martinis. Anyway, I think I need to go to sleep." I was barely able to hold my head up.

We got off the phone and I was asleep in seconds. When I woke up the next morning I was wearing my wrinkled dress from last night, I was lying on top of the covers, and there was a wet spot where I'd drooled all over my pillow. I felt slow and stupid--drugged, almost. I dragged myself into the shower, packed, headed down for breakfast, and took the shuttle out to the airport.

I didn't really feel like myself until early afternoon--and as my head cleared I began to realize that I'd almost certainly been drugged. It had to have been that asshole Ken--I knew Brad and Debra pretty well, and I trusted them. Or I thought I did.

Which raised the next question: was Ken just some asshole who drugged women so he could fuck them, or had this been a set-up? I remembered the two other extra-handsome guys who'd pursued me on recent trips, and my unlikely suspicions began to seem less unlikely.

When I got home I unpacked and changed, then took a quick nap. Bobby was coming over for dinner after work.

I met him with a beer and a big kiss, then led him into the kitchen so I could finish getting dinner ready. "Did you miss me, baby?" I asked.

"Sure did. Two nights watching the Indians lose are a lot less fun than a night with my best girl."

I came over and sat on his lap. "I'm glad I'm your best girl--that's all I ever want to be.

"But I have a question for you," I said, looking right into his eyes. "Have you been sending guys after me on my trips to try and fuck me?"

I expected him either to deny it angrily or confess it shamefacedly, but he did neither.

"Yup. But nobody's nailed you yet, from what I understand." He said in an even tone, looking right back at me.

"Don't get all outraged on me, Ari, and don't expect me to be embarrassed. 'Once burned twice shy'--I'm sure you've heard the expression. And then there's the one about 'trust but verify.' "

I stood up and pulled the pan with the chicken out of the oven, setting it on top of the stove. "I'm not outraged, Bobby--disappointed, because it means you felt you had to do this, but I'm not outraged.

"You trusted me once and I betrayed you--terribly. Now you don't trust me, and I certainly get why.

"But I'm a little surprised that you told some guy he could drug me."

Now he did look shocked, and upset. "Drug you? What are you talking about?"

"Aside from the run-of-the-mill passes I'm used to getting when I travel, there have been three real hunks over the last few months." I filled him in on Mark and the second guy, then went on to tell him about Ken.

"And I'm pretty damn sure he put something in my drink, because I've never felt like that after two martinis, and because he was so aggressive about 'helping' me to my room. I'm sure that if I hadn't called for help he would have raped me--and then reported to you that I enthusiastically took him upstairs and screwed his eyes out."

Bobby was shaking his head, looking thoroughly dismayed. "Jesus, Ari, I never--this is bad." He looked at me. "I did send guys after you. All three of the ones you spotted, and another guy who must have made less of an impression. There were four of them.

"And I thought that Ken might have the best shot at nailing you, because he knew Debra from a long time ago--that part was no set-up. So he'd be a friend of a friend, and your guard might be down.

"But I had no idea anybody would try to drug you! I, I'm--I'm sorry about that, Ari, really. And I'm gonna have somebody tear that guy's fuckin' head off!"

I felt a little better, knowing at least that Bobby wouldn't go so far as to have a guy drug me. Small consolation, I guess! We talked for a long time over dinner about the whole thing--he told me about the agency he'd used, I gave him the details of the various guys and what they'd tried.

When we were having coffee I said, "so--you gonna keep sending hunky guys after me?"

"I don't know--do I need to?" Bobby was direct and unrepentant.

"Well from my point of view, no. I'm getting a lot of wonderful screwing from you, baby, right here in Columbus. I will NOT do to you ever again what I did while we were married. I've promised that before and I'm promising it again.

"But if you need to keep testing me--that's your issue. If you want to spend the money, be my guest. Only no more drugs, and no force, okay?"

He shuddered. "Jesus, Ari--of course not!"

I smiled. "Okay then. Will you take me to bed and make me feel better? I can do the dishes anytime."

************************

After that it became a joke between us. Whenever I came back from a trip Bobby would say, "did you spot my guy? Pretty good-looking, wasn't he? Was he a good fuck?"

And I'd want to say, "yeah, in fact he was tremendous. Big hard cock, and he went all night long." But there was no way I was ever going there, even as a joke. So I'd just describe whoever had come on to me, or the best-looking one if there had been several, and say, "was he yours, Bobby, or was he just overcome by my good looks and couldn't resist taking a shot?"

Then Bobby would say, "no, that one doesn't sound like one of mine, Ari--you must have gotten his attention all by yourself."

And then thank God we'd let it drop and get on with our lives. To tell the truth, I never really knew whether he was still trying to set me up or not. It didn't matter--I wasn't going to fuck any of them, and I never even let it get close to that. If Bobby wanted to go on wasting his money, that was up to him.

************************

The week after Labor Day I found myself taking stock. Bobby and I had just come back from a vacation on a lake in upstate New York--a romantic week full of hiking, canoeing, sunbathing, reading books, and let's not forget the sex. A lot of really great sex: sometimes hard and sweaty, sometimes romantic and gentle.

It had been nearly seven years since Bobby caught me cheating on him and divorced me, five years since he married Laura, and a little more than two since I'd returned to Columbus after their divorce and we'd started seeing one another again.

We weren't married and we weren't living together, but pretty close. We spent most nights at his house, where by now most of my clothes were in the closet, and we held onto my apartment more out of inertia than for any other reason.

When I thought about things I was so happy I could hardly breathe, but a lot of the time I just went about my business. I still had appointments with Jon Erickson every two weeks, but I was beginning to tell him I didn't see much point in continuing any longer, because "I have pretty much everything I wanted."

Of all the twists and turns in the long drawn-out story of me and Bobby, what happened next was the most surprising. Not in retrospect, maybe, once I thought about it, but at the time I was buffaloed.

It began with great news. We were having a beer together after a Saturday night dinner on the patio and I said, "how's Daniel?" Bobby had talked to his brother on the phone that afternoon.

"He and Marsha are fine--the kids too. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Smiling at me, he said, "they want us to come out there for Thanksgiving--both of us. I told him I'd talk to you about it."

My jaw dropped. "Really? Your brother will let me in his house? The whore of Babylon?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess he thought that for awhile. I did too, remember. When I caught you cheating, he listened to me and advised me and cheered me up and helped me not fall apart completely. And of course he hated you, Ari--why wouldn't he?

"But he's been hearing about how we've been doing, the last few months; and he says, 'it seems nuts to me, bro, but if you're happy, then I'm happy.'

"Of course, he also says, 'but watch your back, you hear me?' "

I nodded. "I can hardly blame him, Bobby. He saw how much I hurt you, and he's looking out for you.

"But if he's really willing to let me come out there with you, and be part of the family Thanksgiving--I'd be thrilled to go!"

I was over the moon! Not to mention already quite moist in my panties. I climbed into his lap and started kissing him, twining my arms around his neck. For a few minutes we made out on the patio; and a few minutes after that we were pulling off our clothes and jumping onto the bed together.

I got Bobby down on his back and dove for his cock. I didn't want to give him a supremo blow job like the one that had pissed him off--I just wanted to get him nice and hard so he could jam that beautiful dick inside me.

So I licked him and sucked him, and I cupped his balls in my hand and stroked them, and he moaned with pleasure--but his half hard-on stayed just where it was, half hard.

This had never happened in all the years we'd been together. Not that I minded having his dick in my mouth, but after ten minutes it still was barely hard enough for him to shove it into me. I raised my head to look at Bobby and he looked embarrassed.

"Sorry, Ari--I have no idea why ... I mean, I want to, I just ..."

"Shh," I said. I arranged myself invitingly, lay back, held his cock and sort of squished it into me. This'll take care of it, I thought, and I started moving gently, enjoying the feelings.

But as Bobby thrusted away things got worse, not better, and within about a minute his mostly-limp cock just fell out of me. The look on his face was a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

"C'mere baby," I said. I pulled him back down on top of me and snuggled into his arms, not saying anything else, just enjoying feeling his body close against mine. I was determined not to make a big deal of it--we were together, naked in bed, that was the main thing. After awhile we just pulled the covers over us and went to sleep.

But it happened the next morning too. Bobby woke up with his usual morning wood, and after each of us used the bathroom he was ready to jump on my bones--but when he started to put it inside me his dick swooned like Mimì in the last act of "La Bohème," and no amount of oral encouragement from me could bring it more than partway back to life.

Bobby was positively shame-faced this time. He insisted on getting down between my legs and licking me--and let me tell you, that man's talents with his tongue have not diminished with time! Between his mouth and his fingers he gave me two world-class orgasms, and I squealed and hollered with each of them.

But when I went to return the favor I could get nothing out of him. We eventually gave up and had breakfast; and when I suggested a shower together, thinking I'd have another chance to rouse him, he kind of nervously said no, he needed to get some stuff at Home Depot, and he was out the door before I could stop him.

Still no big deal, right? Except that it happened the next four times Bobby tried to make love to me: sucking his cock got him hard but not all that hard, and when he tried to fuck me it collapsed again. After that he started avoiding sex entirely. We'd still go out to eat or see a movie, and we were still sleeping in his bed every night, but he was keeping his distance. It got to where anything beyond a little light necking got him very nervous, and even at bedtime all I got was one kiss.

He wouldn't talk about it, either--he'd change the subject or simply shake his head and say, "don't try to psychoanalyze me, Ari, all right?" And I had to let it go, though I knew it was only going to get worse.

************************

I was right, too. Three days after our latest failure Bobby told me over dinner that he wanted me to go back to my apartment for the weekend.

I just stared at him, and he nervously said, "I'm getting together with Rachel."

Long silence. Cue the ominous drum roll.

I said, "okay." My mind was filled with questions: Does this mean you're giving up on us? Is this a one-time thing? Are you moving Rachel in? Do you want me to take all my clothes and stuff out of the house?

But I bit my tongue and didn't ask any of them. Instead I tried to take deep breaths, and we sat and finished our dinner. Neither of us said anything else about Rachel, or about what this meant.

I cleared the table and we loaded the dishwasher in silence. Then I said, "Bobby, can we go out and sit on the deck?"

"Sure," he said, and followed me out. I waited until he was sitting in a chair, and then without asking I climbed onto his lap and put my arms around him and my head on his shoulder. I had no idea what to say, so I didn't say anything.

After a minute's hesitation he put his arms around me, and we held each other for a while in silence. I was pretty scared and unhappy, but the hug helped a lot.

************************

I spent the weekend back at my place, using the free time to straighten up and do some laundry and try not to think about Bobby and Rachel--pretty much unsuccessfully. Felicia came over for the afternoon on Sunday and she taught me her fantastic paella recipe for dinner, so that was a nice distraction.

She filled me in on all the latest with Kurt, who seemed to have turned over a new leaf and was being an A+ boyfriend, and she commiserated with me about the latest upheaval with Bobby.

"Is this Rachel that same bitch he was screwing like a year ago, before the two of you really got back together?"

"Yeah--he broke it off with her back then because he was getting kind of bored, except for the sex. I assume this weekend is primarily about making sure that his cock still works."

In an unhappy voice I said, "I don't even mind his fucking her, honestly--I don't ever see that relationship going anywhere. What's scary is that he can't get it up with me right now, and if we can't fix that I KNOW our relationship is over."

I had no illusions that a big part of my attraction for Bobby, though certainly not all of it, was sexual. We had always been really terrific together, and the prospect of a celibate life with me would not hold much appeal for him.

"So what's your plan, Ari? You're the 'can-do' girl, how are you going to fix this one?

I shook my head. "I wish I knew. After all we've been through, after how well we were doing, this feels a little like karma stepping up and hitting me with a pie in the face. If he'd never spoken to me again after our divorce it would be one thing, Leesh. But to get back together, to be practically living together, and then this?"

Felicia didn't have any ideas either, except to open another bottle of a nice Australian white wine. That turned out to be a pretty good plan, at least for a couple of hours.

************************

The next few weeks were weird, tense, and very scary. I called Bobby at work on Monday and casually asked whether I should come over and make dinner for us that night. In other words: am I back living in the house with you, or are you tossing me out?

He hemmed and hawed and finally said he thought "we needed to take a little break from one another.

"It doesn't mean I don't care for you, Ari--not at all. It's just ..."

"Be honest with me, okay Bobby?" I said. "Is it just 'I need a little time to myself,' or is it just 'I want to fuck Rachel's brains out some more and you'd be in the way'? "

After a long silence he said, "well, she is coming over for dinner tonight."

I took a deep breath and said, "all right. Well, listen--can we stay in touch? Do you mind if I call you?"

Oh no, not at all, he said, of course we'll stay in touch. I didn't believe a word of it, and I got off the phone pretty depressed.

But I was wrong--we DID stay in touch. We spoke on the phone most days, and he called me at least as often as I called him. We had lunch together every few days, and he even asked me to come for dinner about five times in the next month or so. Each time it seemed to be taken for granted that I'd spend the night in his bed, although he didn't let me get close to him physically and there was no sex at all. We kissed goodnight like some old married couple, and that was it.

ohio
ohio
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