Admitting the Difficult Truth

The kitchen seems so much smaller at night. During the day, the sun fills the room. It's bursting with laughter and life, the center of a happy home. But tonight, it's empty and dark.

Well, empty except for my husband and I.

"How fucking could you?" he asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

"I'm sorry." I sigh, again. My eyes are puffy from tears, and I keep fighting back the urge to sniffle.

"Just..." He runs his hands over the smooth wood table, like he's looking for something to touch that isn't me.

"Just tell me what happened. I deserve to know that much."

The clock ticks on the wall, loudly. We'd bought it together at an antique mall one sun-lit Saturday in June. It was a cat, with eyes and a tale that ticked away the seconds, back and forth, over and over. Of course, that all happened a long time ago. When we still had a chance to be happy. Before I cheated on John.

"I...." I try to begin. But how do you tell a story that you know will destroy someone? How do you cut someone to the core? Take their soul and crush it underfoot?

Tick tock, Debra. Tick tock.

"I don't know where to start."

John drums his fingers against the table, rhythmic with frustration. I can see the vein at his temple that stands up when he's angry.

"Let's try the beginning."

I look down at the papers in front of me. A packet of cheap photocopies, dumped from a manila sleeve. D-I-V-O-R-C-E spelled out in bold, black ink.

"Ok...." I swallow hard. "The beginning."

I gather myself for the tale. For the story I never thought I'd tell.

"It started last year. When your company was downsizing."

John's eyebrows go up in confusion, and I get a sense of how little he really knows.

"Why does my company downsizing matter at all?"

"Oh, John." I give a little laugh. "You don't know anything do you?"

He sits and waits, the darkness around us holding us apart from the world. There's only this moment.

"I got a call. From your boss." I expect for the words to land like a hammer, and they do.

"Marcus?"

"Yeah, Marcus." A laugh escapes again. "You were working late every day, trying to keep your job. And Marcus asked me to dinner. I...thought it was strange. But you'd been distant. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe it was the attention of a handsome man. Maybe I thought I could put in a good word and help you keep your job. And that would...fix things."

I look around, no escape evident. There's only the story.

"So...I went to dinner with him. I wore a dress. A pretty one, with pearls. And John, he noticed." I feel myself blush.

"I know it sounds silly, but he noticed. You never noticed anymore. But as soon as I walked in, he told me how beautiful I looked... wait, no. Sexy. He told me I looked sexy."

The color is draining from John's face. He's trapped between a freight train and cliff.

"Anyway, dinner was fine. But Marcus was...something else. He was funny. And he was so commanding. I don't know what else to call it. He just knew what he wanted, all the time. Wine, food, whatever. He got the waitress's number while I was sitting there. Just told her to give it to him and she did. I guess I saw why he was the boss."

I knot my hands in my lap, nervous to begin the next chapter.

"Then he made me an offer. Well, I guess you could call it that. Like I said, he sort of just told me he wanted it. I guess I could have said no, but if I'm honest, the thought didn't cross my mind."

"What...What did he tell you?"

"He told me...He told me that I was going to belong to him after that night. He told me that I was going to go back to his apartment. And I was going to do anything he told me to. And that if I did that...if I kept doing that. That you'd keep your job, you'd even get a raise. But John, do you know why I did it? Why I watched him pay and followed him out to the taxi? While I didn't take my hand away when he put it on his thigh? Why I practically gave him a handjob in that car?"

"Why?" John's voice is softer now, more unsure. Even scared.

"Because I wanted to, John. I wanted to so bad. I can't tell you why. Some primal part of my brain, or years of pent up neglect. I don't have a clue. But when he put my hand on his cock, and John, that's what it was. A COCK." I hold up my hands in a rough approximation of ten inches. "I knew I'd do anything he told me to from then on out."

Somehow the confession is releasing the fear and tension inside me. "When we got back to his place, I had practically soaked through my panties. He fingered me a little in the car, but he mostly teased me. Asked me if I'd been fucked by a cock that big. Asked me if I wanted to see it. When the front door closed, I was already on my knees. He just laughed at me and told me to strip first."

"John, I was so embarrassed. My whole body must have been red. I'd dropped to my knees the second I could, and he just laughed at me! He wasn't in any kind of hurry, and I was practically falling all over myself to cheat on my husband with him!" I can't keep the excitement out of my voice, even now, months later.

"Anyway, you can probably guess. I was out of my dress and panties in no time flat. And, of course, on my knees again. He just took his time. Turned on some music. Poured himself a drink. By the time he sat down on the couch and started to loosen his belt, I was basically following him around the room like a puppy dog."

John sits back, arms crossed. Fighting the urge to stop. Fighting the urge to continue.

"I wanted to see it, John. I wanted to taste it. And he fucking knew it. He made me do it slowly. No rushing. Unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping them. Peeling back the layers to see the thick snake down the leg of his boxers." I nearly shiver.

"I kissed it through the fabric. Looking up at him. He smiled down at me, sipping his drink. Patting my hair and calling me his good girl. I kissed down the shaft, through his boxes. It wasn't even hard, but when I got to the leg of his boxers, I found the head! Can you believe it?! That's how big it was! It hung out of his underwear!"

"I mean, I couldn't resist. I took it in my mouth, just sort of suckled at it. And it was incredible. Hot and soft, but getting harder every time his heart gave a beat. I could practically feel his pulse in my mouth. By then, he was done playing around. He pulled me onto the couch and finally stripped down himself. And it was a sight to see, John. Like something out of the movies. Then he pushed me down and...he fed it to me, John. I don't know how else to say it."

"He put the head of his cock in my mouth, and just sort of fucked me that way. He was rock hard before long, and like I said, humongous. He just took his time, pushing it into my mouth. Into my throat. I'd never felt anything like it. I mean, I'd put your penis is my mouth a ton, but this was something else. My lips had to stretch around his shaft, and it seemed like there was always more. No matter how much he pushed into me, I'd open my eyes and see what looked like 10 more inches still waiting." An involuntary moan escapes me before I can catch it.

"Anyway, that's how the night went. Marcus would tease me. Have me literally begging for it. Then he'd feed me his cock. Over and over, all night long. He used my throat until I was horse. My pussy and ass until I could barely walk. He came on me and in me, and took pictures of it all."

"When I limped home the next day, I told you I'd stayed at my sisters. I don't think you even noticed I'd been gone."

John adjusts himself awkwardly, trying to hide his own confused excitement.

"And it happened again?"

"Again. And again. And again. He'd call me, or even just text. Sometimes with instructions of where to be or what to wear. But sometimes just a picture. His hard cock and a location. I'd get there and wait. I spent a whole day at Walmart once because he did that and then got tied up at work. I'd been there for 6 hours when he showed up. Told me to blow him and swallow his load, and then he left. I got home and came 3 times just thinking about it."

"When was the last time?"

"Last time?" I laugh again, picking up my phone. "John, it never stopped. I saw Marcus an hour ago. That's where I was tonight."

"You mean..." His voice breaks.

"Yeah," I admit. "Marcus fucked me tonight. A few times in fact. I....I haven't even cleaned up. I can feel him still leaking out of me."

John sits in silence, looking at me. The anger is gone. But now there's something else.

"And it'll keep happening?"

I sigh in frustration. "I don't know. I suppose so. I certainly won't say 'no'. As long as he calls, I'll be there. I know that's crazy, but ...I know it's true."

More silence. More tick and more tocks.

"What...what if I was there?"

Now it's my turn to be confused. "What? Like outside?"

"No..." John rubs his eyes with his hands then ruffles his hair. "What...what if I was in the room. With you. Watching."

"John?"

"What if...what if I watched. Or helped."

"Are you saying...."

"Look, I ...I guess now I'm the one that doesn't know what to say." He looks around the small kitchen as if finally feeling the sense of void I felt before.

"I was so angry. I was so...betrayed. But listening to you now...I don't know. I regret that I wasn't there. I'm not angry. Not really. I'm upset you went behind my back."

"But now...now you want to watch?"

"I mean, I want to be with you. I love you. Listening to you talk about Marcus, I can see how much you love it. I don't want to take that away. I just want you to be happy." He reaches out for my hand. In taking it, the papers fall to the floor.

"You make me happy. And our family. And Marcus. Do you think that would work?" I ask, impossibly hopeful.

John smiles, and it hits me like site of land after a long ocean voyage. "I think we can try."

Seconds pass again, but the ticks and tocks are filled with less condemnation now.

"Now let's get you upstairs and get you cleaned up. It sounds like you had quite the night with Marcus, and I want to hear all about it."

We smile together and head towards the bedroom.