My Best Friend's Husband Ch. 02

Trish got back from her mother's home late Friday night and she was ringing my doorbell first thing Saturday morning. She started talking as she walked through the front door.

"I can't believe it. You were ready to fuck him and he wouldn't do it?"

"No he wouldn't," I said. "But for your purposes I didn't need to. You wanted him to know he could get a hard on and when I reached down and felt it he obviously knew he could get it up. He knew what that psychiatrist had been telling him was true. His impotence was all in his head caused by finding out you fucked those two guys while he was trying to put out the fire at his business."

"Yeah," she said. "But what does that make me? Like I said on the phone I'm a whore married to a God damned saint. What do I do now Lois? I love this guy. I really do. Fix me a bloody Mary, will you? And let's talk."

We went in the kitchen and I fiddled around with the ingredients wondering whether to tell Trish how I was beginning to feel about her husband. I decided to keep it to myself. No reason to add that to an already complex situation. I needed to get one thing out on the table though so I asked Trish directly.

"You keep calling yourself a whore. Were Lenny and Ralph the only guys you fucked after you married Art?"

Trish looked shocked at my question. Then she shook her head no and looking down at the kitchen floor she spoke softly and told a sad story.

"Three years ago I fucked a guy at a party. Art was traveling and I went to a party at a friend's house. I drank too much and smoked some grass and the next thing I knew this guy I didn't even know had me out in the back yard doing me doggie. I don't even remember his name. Nobody saw us and I left right away. But from that time on I never got drunk and stoned unless Art was around."

"So you thought it was safe at the party to drink and smoke?" I said.

"Yeah. I thought it was safe."

"Well you paid a high price for that learning experience."

We sat down in the living room sipping our drinks.

"What was Art like last night when you got home?" I asked.

"Friendly, affectionate and impotent!" Trish said with disgust in her voice.

"He tried to fuck you?"

"Yes he did," she said. "And his dick was as floppy as a wet dishrag. He apologized as usual. I tell you Lois, his dick knows I'm a whore!"

"Well at least he knows he can get it up," I said. "We don't need to do anything stupid again like me trying to fuck him."

Trish got a far away look in her eye as if deep in thought. "Maybe the two of us could get him drunk and ... oh shit! Then he really would think I'm a whore. It's ME he can't fuck! HE knows that as well as I do."

"I'm sorry Trish, but I'm all out of ideas. Lets have dinner at the club and keep our friendship going."

That night Phil picked me up and we met Art and Trish at the club. It was a beautiful evening with good food and good conversation and after dinner we danced to the little band the club always had on weekends. I danced with Art and Phil and the second time I danced with Phil this very sensitive twenty-three old kid surprised me again with his reservoir of mature understanding.

"You should see yourself," Phil said. "It's like you're with Don again. The way you look at Art and even the way you dance with him -- it's like when you were with Don. Be careful honey, he's a lot like Don and you need to remind yourself that he's Art, not Don."

"What do you mean?" I asked. What had Phil seen that I had not?

"Art talks like Don -- that slow, dominant voice -- and he even reminds ME of Don. The way you're acting it's almost like you're falling in love with him."

Oh my God I thought. Am I that obvious? I hope only to Phil. This is so damn confusing. Am I falling in love or just finding my former husband again? I hope Trish hasn't noticed anything. She told me to be nice to him so maybe she hasn't noticed what Phil saw. I've gotta watch myself and be careful.

The next day my phone rang. It was Art. He invited me to lunch on Monday. Of course I said yes but what was this all about I wondered. The last thing he said before he hung up was not to tell Trish. Oh shit! This could be very bad!

I worried all day about my problem. Was I falling in love with Art or seeing him as Don? Phil was right. Many of his gestures and mannerisms reminded me of Don. On the other hand I enjoyed just being with him and talking to him. It felt so right somehow. I felt like I was fourteen again -- confused and nervous and frightened.

I met Art for lunch at a new restaurant I had never been to before. We had a delightful quiche and he had ordered a nice white wine and when he poured the last of it he settled in as though he was ready for a serious talk.

"I'm taking another look at my marriage," he said, leaning across the table intimately.

"Trish is my very best friend in the world," I said.

"I know and that makes this very difficult," he smiled painfully.

"She loves you very much," I said.

"She told you what happened?""

"Yes she did. She was so drunk and stoned that she was helpless," I said. Repeating what I knew Trish had told him about that night.

"A woman is what she is, drunk or sober," he said almost like pronouncing a sentence.

"That's nonsense!" I responded. "Alcohol and drugs change us to what we are NOT. And Trish is not a whore."

"YOU wouldn't fuck two guys in the guest room."

"You don't know and I don't know what I'd do after all that booze and grass and powder!"

"Okay, okay," he said. "But what do I do with the way I'm starting to feel about you?"

"Feel about me? What do you mean by that?" Shit! I thought. Is he starting to feel about me the way I'm feeling about him?

"Look Lois. You're a real woman. A woman a man could love. I wanted to have lunch with you today to tell you that I'm starting to feel very special about you."

"Art, you must understand that Trish is not just my best friend since high school. She is a friend who helped me through the most difficult time a wife can ever possibly face -- the death of my husband. I owe her my life! I will NEVER betray that friendship. Not even for love. Hear me Art. NOT EVEN FOR LOVE!"

"I guess I understand," he said. "You're telling me that there can never be any chance for us?"

"Never," I said.

And as I said it I realized that I was cutting off any chance of happiness with a man so much like my Don that my skin crawled with pleasure as I thought of making love to him. Was it love or was it a pathetic attempt to recapture a memory that can never be? Maybe I will never know. But it is done now. Finished!

"Then, help me love my wife again," he said softly, almost pathetically.

I will never know whether I love this man or see my former husband in him. But I cannot betray the woman who gave my husband dignity in his last days alive. I will help her get him back. He is a gentleman. He respects women. He cannot fuck a whore and Trish has become a whore in his eyes. How do I deal with that? How do I help him learn to fuck a whore?

"I'll try," I said softly.

That night my brother came over for a drink and a light supper. I told him about my lunch with Art. I needed his help. It pisses me off. I'm his older sister! I know more than he does. How the hell can I ask him what to do? But I have to!

"What the fuck do I do?" I yelled at him in frustration.

Phil laughed.

"You can't steal her husband! It would haunt you the rest of your life."

"Okay I know that but what do I do?"

"You help her get him back," he said simply.

"How the hell do I do that?" I asked, completely frustrated.

"Step one was letting him know you could never be in love with him," Phil said. "I don't think he was falling in love with you anyway. He just saw you as a virtuous woman compared to his wife. And I don't think you were falling in love with him. I think you found Don in him. Somehow you have to get him down off that pedestal he's put himself on."

My little brother was wise for his age. Art HAD put himself on a pedestal, I thought. He's got to stop thinking that women are either saints or whores. He's got to realize that women are ... well ... just women.

"But honey," Phil said softly, "You need to get along with your own life."

"I've been thinking about that," I said. "There's a young surgeon just starting practice and he's looking for a part time receptionist. I'm thinking about applying for the job."

"I know him. I don't want you working for him," Phil said forcefully.

"Why not?" I asked. My younger brother was NOT going to run my life.

Phil paused in thought and then spoke out loudly.

"People say that I'm fucking half the gals in town? Well he's fuckin the other half. Gals think he's a doll and I don't want my sister near him."

"Oh baby," I chuckled, "Your big sister can take care of herself. Besides I've been looking for an interesting guy to date. He sounds really interesting. Maybe a little excitement will be good for me."

"Okay," Phil said, "But don't say I didn't warn you. Keep your damn legs crossed."

Phil left early and my phone rang as he backed out of the driveway. It was Trish, almost in tears.

"He's packing his suitcase," she said. "Says he's going down to Eglin Air Force Base to test one of his gizmos. Says it works on the ground but not in the air - something to do with radar interference maybe. But he looks happy to leave!"

"How long will he be gone?" I asked.

"He doesn't know. He said it might be a week or a month depending."

"Depending on what?"

"He just said depending."

Over the next week it was clear that Trish was beginning to feel better. I suspected that not having to deal with a floppy pecker improved her life. The nightly reminder of Art's impotence must have been horrible. He called her regularly and always told her he missed her and loved her.

Phil took me to dinner at the club on Thursday and when I asked him how his travel agency was doing he laughed.

"Not much money coming in but I get a lot of offers of free trips. I just got one from Destin Florida for some kind of fishing rodeo. I thought I might take them up on this one. Destin is just a few miles from Eglin Field where Art is doing his thing."

"That's a good idea," I said. "You might cheer him up and find out how he's doing trying to fix that gadget of his."

It was a week before I saw Phil again and when I did he walked in my front door with a big grin on his face.

"You look like you're brimming over with news," I said.

"I am and it's good news," he laughed. "Fix me a single malt, no rocks, a little water and let's drink a toast."

"A toast to what?" I asked as I poured our drinks.

"Sin!" Phil said as he raised his glass. "To the healing powers of sin."

I took a sip of my scotch and we sat down in the living room.

"You're gonna tell me the good news aren't you?"

I had no idea what this was about but it must have something to do with Art since Phil had visited him in Florida.

"Let me show you a picture," he said pulling a snapshot from his coat pocket and handing it to me.

"The day I arrived I headed for the place where they weigh in the fish. It's a contest you see and there are prizes for all ages of fishermen and types of fish. I saw Art and took this picture before he saw me. He was taking the day off with a co-worker."

I examined the picture and it was of Art in shorts and tee shirt. Clinging to his arm was a blonde with the narrowest waist and the biggest tits I had ever seen. They were smiling into each other's eyes. They were obviously a "thing."

"She's a bit old for Art, don't you think?" I said.

Phil grinned, "She's fifteen years older than he is. She's a bird colonel in the Air Force and a radar engineer working on Art's gadget trying to get it to work in the air like it does on the ground. She has the biggest tits on the Florida panhandle and he's fucking her brains out. Our saint has fallen off of his pedestal."

Then he laughed and told me the whole story. I got the picture from him and called Trish the minute he left. I was at her place minutes later promising her "big news" that would make her very happy.

"What is the good news," Trish asked, excitedly.

"Your husband is fucking another woman and he's scared to death my brother will tell me and I will tell you and you'll divorce him."

Then I handed her the picture, which she examined carefully and then laughed a loud happy laugh.

"Who is she?" Trish asked.

"A radar expert in the Air Force working with Art trying to get his gadget to work. And get this Trish ... get this ... She's fifteen years older than Art and Phil thinks she sleeps around."

"How did their thing start?" Trish asked.

"They discovered that if they shut down all the radar on the plane Art's gizmo worked as well in the air as on the ground. So all they had to do was design the proper shielding for it. They went out to celebrate their discovery."

"Art told Phil he got drunk and he woke up at her place with that bitch doing him cowboy and those big tits hanging down in his face. He says he passed out again and didn't wake up till morning."

Trish was giggling so much she had trouble asking the next logical question so I supplied the answer for her.

"Phil asked him if he fucked her the next morning after he sobered up and poor Art just hung his head and nodded. And he's been fuckin her for the past week! Banging the bitch like a drum! Your saint just fell off his pedestal."

It was another week before Art came back and that afternoon he called me from the airport.

"I need to see you before I talk to Trish," he said.

A cab dropped him off at my place and he sat down in the living room and I fixed us drinks, remembering as I did Phil and I drinking a toast to sin.

"I guess Phil told you about what I did in Florida," he said.

I nodded and he dropped his head and stared at the floor. I think he was embarrassed at behaving like a mere mortal instead of the saint he had made himself out to be.

"I hope you haven't told Trish," he said.

It was a statement, not a question so I said nothing.

"I need your help," he continued. "Somehow I have to tell Trish about this. Remaining silent is exactly the same as lying to her. I love her Lois. I can't lie to her. Tell me what to do, please."

I remembered my conversation with Trish that Sunday morning after the party. I ran through the program in my head and then laid it on the line.

"The first thing you do tonight when you get home is fuck her. I think your pecker will work now. And don't be gentle -- she hasn't been laid in six months."

He closed his eyes and nodded, obviously embarrassed that I knew the story of his impotence.

"Then tell her about your Air Force colonel. Don't leave out any of the details. Tell her you were drunk the first time but then you fucked the bitch sober for a week."

"Tell me something Art," I said leaning close to him and speaking softly. "How would you have felt if Trish had figured it was okay to fuck Lenny after she sobered up because she's fucked him when she was drunk?"

He just dropped his head and shook it from side to side, completely demolished by my question. Like I'd kicked him in the balls! That felt good, I thought. The bastard deserved it.

"Then tell her you're sorry and you'll try not to do that ever again. Don't say you'll never do it again. Just say you'll TRY not to do it again. Remember Art, you're human now and so is she. Got it?"

He nodded his head, not looking at me. I looked at my watch.

"It's too early to go home. You need another drink."

It was after nine when I drove him home drunk and ready to fuck his wife. I dropped him off at his place and called Trish on my cell as I drove away.

"Don't talk. Just get him in bed," I said.

The next morning Trish called.

"How is your pelvis?" I asked the minute she said hello.

"As relaxed as it has been in years," she said.

"He got it up?"

"He got it up and it stayed up for hours!" Trish said. "Then he confessed his sins and we made up. He's got to go back down there in a couple of weeks for the final test and he said he wanted me to go with him to "protect" him he said. I'm gonna go and thank that bitch for the favor she did me."

"Maybe you better rethink the thank you option," I said. "But good luck."

"Good luck with your doctor," Trish said.