Passion & Perspective Ch. 08-09

"He's got Saturday a week out open . . ."

I mentally checked our schedules, didn't see a conflict, "Good by me."

"Great! And he's got this Thursday open, too." The last a bit uneasily.

Again I checked . . . "Honey, you remember I have a business meeting that night."

"I wasn't sure it was still on."

"It is."

"Ah, well, we'll just have to wait a week, I guess."

The evening went as evenings always do, the meal imbibed, dishes washed, she watched a show on the Home and Garden network while I read my latest history book, a bit of distraction marring my concentration. "Molly," I suggested during a commercial, "just because I can't meet up with Mark on Thursday doesn't mean you can't."

She considered it, as if she'd not allowed for that possibility. "No, I think I'd feel strange about it. We should just wait."

"Why?" I argued. "It's not like we haven't done anything like this before."

"But we haven't," she disputed.

"We have." Now I was the little boy, anxious to prove my point. "The first two times, I wasn't there. Heck, you've been alone in the guest bedroom with Mark."

"The times with Keith and Colin, well, that was different, they were in a hotel and we didn't know what we were doing. And you could have come in to the guest bedroom anytime you wanted." I saw we were talking two sides of the wall here, neither was right, neither was wrong.

"Okay," I reluctantly agreed, went back to my book. The air in the room was still flustered, two commercials later Molly came to me, kissed me, tossled my hair. "Want some tea?"

"I'd like that," I agreed, and while she spent time in the kitchen, I tried to figure it out. I was ready by the time she got back.

"Molly, what are you worried about, if you go over to Mark's house Thursday?"

"I'm not sure. It's just different somehow."

"Do you have feelings for him? Romantic, not just sexy?"

"I guess so." The look of a fox in the woods, perused by dogs, showed in her face.

"Molly, this is important. Do you love him?"

"No! No, not love. The only person I love is you, the only person I'll ever love is you."

"And your feelings for Mark are what, friendship?"

She thought about that one for a while, I let her have her muse. "I'm not sure there's a word for it. Maybe it is some sort of a fondness, in a way. A lot less than I have for you, but something more than I felt for any of the other guys."

"You're not going to leave him for me, are you?"

"Oh, God, no! No! If I ever thought that, even for a second, I couldn't live with it. I'd stop seeing him, I'd never see him again. In fact, I'd stop seeing anyone."

"Good," I expounded, "I know that, I knew it all the time. I trust you dear, completely. And I don't see any reason why you shouldn't have Mark as a friend. I guess it's called a 'friend with benefits.' Go on over there Thursday night, have dinner, catch up with each other, have some fun if you want to, then come back to me. You'll see, it will be just fine."

She was still dubious. "I don't know, can I think about it?"

"Of course." She went back to watching how to remodel a house she'd never enter with wall paper that would never grace our home, Jefferson was still in France in the pages of my hardback.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thursday morning arose, drizzly and cool, I still didn't have an answer as to where Molly would spend the evening. She was in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the paper, dressed in the most severe of business suits. "Good morning," we kissed, and before she left the house she admitted, "If it's still okay with you, I'm going to meet Mark at a restaurant tonight."

"Of course it is," and she was off.

The business meeting that night was what business meetings always are, a kickoff conference of a task force meant to resolve a problem that was solved with one model three years ago, another would meet three years hence, I assumed. I kept an ear up as the speakers droned on, as I sipped my coffee I had another lobe of my brain focused on what might be happening thirty miles away, my wife at dinner with Mark, fingers interlocked, a drive to his house, the shedding of clothes - what lingerie might she be wearing? - then full bore passion. A pleasant diversion made all the more amiable by the fact that the keynoter seemed to have little real world experience of the impact of his edicts, while I had actual knowledge of Molly's abilities, how she was able to screw a guy's brains out.

I got home perhaps 10:30, I soon had a text, 'just finishing up home in 45 luv u' I waited for her in bed, was still up for her when she entered the bedroom, beige trousers, powder blue blouse. No one not having the covert intelligence would have realized what she'd been doing, but I picked up the signs - the lipstick on her upper lip smudged, the hair on the back of her head not quite perfectly combed, a rosy flush on her arms and neck. Oh, yes, this was a woman quite definitely, and quite well, slept with.

She seemed tired as she stepped out of her clothes, a pair of blue lace panties and bra that I was certain Mark had enjoyed with his eyes as much I was doing, and we cuddled as she revealed her evening. "Mark was a sweetheart, it seemed he's missed me a bit - you too, he said - and we went to a steakhouse, I had salad and scallops - I only ate half of them, the rest are in the fridge, you can take them for lunch if you like. Then I went back to his place and we played for an hour or so. It was just what I needed." She didn't seem to want to share details, positions and who kissed who where and such. To tell the truth, I didn't really need them for Mark was a friend, I'd seen his techniques. And it seemed that Molly was fagged, perhaps from work, perhaps from her exertions, for the first time we didn't make love after she'd had another man. But I was at ease with the lack of passion, and the next evening I was rewarded as she took me to dinner, then drove to an out of the way parking area and gave me a blow job, then continued her provocations an hour later in our den.

We attended a party on Saturday night at a friends house, thirty couples in the garden and scattered through the house, Molly was the hit as usual, gossiping with the women, flirting with the men. I lost track of her for forty minutes, went surreptitiously searching for her, a fantasy that perhaps I'd find her behind closed doors with a handsome gentleman I'd not met before that she'd been talking to. Of course, I discovered her in a mixed company of seven in the garden, telling a story about my sailing expertise. I was glad that she was able to separate our platonic and passionate playmates so well, but later when I told her, she remembered a gentleman she could fancy under other circumstances, and in our bed we playfully made love with his poltergeist.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was a week later that I and Molly travelled to Mark's house, where he grilled prime steaks on his patio, served with it two bottles of Côtes du Rhône, and with gentility we switched from feasting to frolicking, Molly being satisfied by her two gentlemen completely and simultaneously. For her part, Molly made sure we were both pleasured with whatever tools were available to her, hand and mouth and certainly her alluring tunnel.

We were relaxing on the bed afterward when Mark felt free to ask, "Don, I'm just wondering, do you ever go for other women?"

"Haven't so far."

"Hope you don't mind me asking, but why not?"

Molly piped up, "Good question. I'm not sure I know the answer to that one."

I tried to put my emotions about the subject into words. "It's not that I'm not interested. Molly's told me many a time that she wouldn't mind . . ."

"Of course I wouldn't," she piped up, "I'm getting plenty, no reason why you shouldn't!"

". . . but, well, there's been no opportunity. And I'm having a great time helping Molly get laid."

"Thank you, sir!" she exclaimed.

"Okay," Mark observed, grasping Molly's right breast, "I guess I understand. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't monopolizing the situation."

"You aren't," Molly said, and she took the opportunity to travel the length of Mark's torso, positioning her head at Mark's groin, taking his member into her mouth, positioning her rear within easy reach of my fingers, wriggling to let me know I should play with her.

Mark let Molly do her thing, he knew we might be in for a long night, and while he accepted her courtesies, he remarked. "Don, if you two get into the mood, you know about swapping, don't you?"

"I've heard of it, yes."

"Well, sometimes finding a compatible couple, particularly the first time, can be a little difficult. I know a few other couples, if you'd like I could introduce you."

That wasn't a surprise to either Molly and I, we knew he was a swinger, either individually as he was doing with us, or as a couple with his ex-wife. "Thanks," I said, "If we decide to go that way, we'll let you know. It's very kind of you."

"Not at all. Oh, do that again." The last sentence had been addressed to Molly, she did it, again and again.