Arbitrary

"I don't want to do any of that. But I will if you don't either sign the amendments or come up with some changes that I can live with."

I shook my head. "That you can live with. I-- " I glared at her. "No, you know what? I don't even fucking recognize you anymore. There's no point in talking about this." I grabbed my keys and headed to my car, then texted Rachel.

She was already sitting at the bar with a beer for me when I got there. "I had a feeling we'd be back here." She sighed. "I'm so sorry. I tried, but... Paul, it's really bad. This is Doug and Lisa all over again."

"Shit." Doug had been one of our running buddies; not as close with either Rachel or me as she and I were, but someone with the same attitude that we had about both our hedonism and where the lines were drawn. In senior year, he fell for a sweet junior named Lisa and decided to be the first runner to drop out of our little sexual marathon. Unfortunately, Lisa changed after they were together for a while. Changed, I realized now, like Joan had. She ended up sleeping around on Doug and breaking his heart. He never really got a good answer for why, other than that she felt like she needed to have some of the same experiences he had.

Rachel nodded. "I've had a lot of time to think about it and... I'm sorry, I think I'm at least partially to blame for both Joan and Lisa." She took a swig of her beer. "I talked up our fun times. I know you did, too, but that was... it's different if a guy talks about his history to a girl versus when a girl does it. It's hard to put yourself in the story if you don't have a similar experience outside of it, you know?"

"Kind of?"

"The problem is that it's like... you know how they say to not pay too much attention to what people show on Instagram? To not judge yourself against what you see there?"

I nodded. "Yeah. 'Don't compare your life with their highlight reel.'"

"Uh-huh." Rachel put her beer down and absentmindedly started to peel the label. "I did that with Joan. Lisa, too, I guess. Showed them nothing but a highlight reel. Like, when you talk with Joan in bed about what you did, what do you talk about? The fun stuff, right? The stuff that really got you going, or what you thought would get her going." I nodded; I could see where she was going with this.

She continued. "You don't talk about the boring experiences. You don't talk about the ones that were decent but not great, or the mildly disappointing ones. You might talk about the bad ones, but even those mostly end up being either funny or a safe kind of scary, because you survived them right?"

I scoffed. "So, what, since she thinks it was all fun and games, that excuses it? I mean, even if it really had been, it sure as fuck doesn't."

Her voice was filled with regret. "No, but it might make her think it's worth the risk."

We sat in silence and drank for a while. "She's already set up a date. Saturday."

Rachel put her hand on my shoulder. "Oh, fuck, Paul. I'm so sorry."

My hand went over hers as my eyes misted up. "Yeah. Yeah, me too." I shook my head. "I'm... I can't stay with her. Even if she turned around and called the whole thing off, I can't do it. That she decided it was okay to go even this far... It's just so disrespectful. Of me, of our vows, all of it. I can't stay. We're getting divorced. I'm calling a lawyer first thing tomorrow."

Her face fell. "God, I wish I'd never introduced you two. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I had no idea she was capable of something like this. I told her... god, I told her when we talked earlier that she was going to lose you no matter how this went down. You'd either divorce her, or you'd do what she wanted and end up getting snapped up by someone else. I can't believe someone that smart can be this fucking stupid."

I took another swig. "It's because she is so smart, you know that, right?" She raised an eyebrow. "I guarantee you, she went at this like any other risk analysis. She's gotta have a spreadsheet on her laptop where she plugged in all of the variables she could think of and her estimations: how easy she thinks it'll be to find a guy, how fun she thinks it'll be, which amendments would piss me off by what amount, all of it. And then she decided on how she'd approach this based off of that."

Rachel sighed. "That sounds like her."

"Yeah. Too bad her estimates all suck. 'Garbage in, garbage out,' right? But she's going to plow on ahead, because she's just so sure I'll cave. And when I don't, I'm sure she'll try to take solace in the outcome being within the margin of error or some shit." My beer was empty, so I got the bartender's attention.

"Do you need a place to stay tonight?"

This was so fucked. My marriage was effectively over. I was going to divorce Joan. Probably fuck my life for the next few years doing it. But... "No. I appreciate it, but I'm going to see this through to the end. I'm going to have to-- we're done. But I need to teach her a lesson. And for that, well, she can't know we're over yet." I had never hidden things from Joan before. Maybe we wouldn't be here if I had.

"Revenge? Really? That doesn't sound like you, Paul."

I could only shrug. "Yeah, but none of this sounded like Joan, either. And it's... okay, there's going to be an element of revenge to it. I won't lie. I'm pissed, and I'm going to hurt her. But I meant what I said: she needs to be taught a lesson. A few lessons, actually. It's as much a last gift from me to her as it is me getting back at her."

She leaned forward, arms resting on the bar, as she tried to meet my gaze. "Well, now I'm intrigued."

I laughed loudly. "I was kind of hoping you would be. But-- look, what I have planned, if you're involved, there's no way she'll ever forgive you."

"Well then, that's perfect, since I'm never going to forgive her for doing this to you." She put her hand on my back and rubbed it, a show of camaraderie from a loyal friend. Just letting me know I wasn't alone. The little things really do matter the most. "Now. Tell me what we're going to do."

I laid it all out for her. She was, at turns, amused, aghast, and anxious to begin.

After I'd sobered up a little, I drove home and was faced with the previous night's decision again: sleep next to my wife or by myself? I looked longingly at the stairs up to our bedroom; there were so many happy memories there. But that's all they were now. Hanging my head, I made my way to the downstairs guest bedroom.

In the morning, Joan was gone again. I cried, just a little, for what she had put us through. I cried a little more for what I was about to put her through. There was no coming back for me after last night. There would be no coming back for her after tonight.

I texted my wife, "Thought some more. I have some revisions I think you can agree to. Meet at home at 6 for dinner and discussion? Love you." It hurt to text those last two words, even if they were still true for now. Almost instantly, she replied with "Thank you! I love you! See you tonight!"

I called in sick. I wanted to give myself some time to mentally prepare and to get the house exactly as I wanted it. Then I texted Rachel. "We're on. See you at 4."

Our house had an open floor plan. From the living room, you could easily see into the kitchen, dining room, and entryway. I moved the furniture a little bit, adjusted our lighting, all the things that would be necessary for tonight's gift. Rachel arrived at four on the dot, and we went over the finer points of the plan. Then, we had a quick snack and something to drink; we'd need energy and steady nerves.

When my wife opened the door, her usual greeting was cut short into "Paul, I'm--!" and then a scream. In the middle of our living room and in full view of the front door, I had Rachel bent over the arm of our couch and was absolutely pounding her pussy from behind. We were both completely naked. Her big tits bounced as my hips slammed into her over and over again, and she started groaning loudly upon Joan's entrance. Rach did always like to put on a good show.

I grunted, "Hey-- unf-- hon. Just a -- mmf- sec." My wife gawped at us, trying to comprehend what was happening.

"Ooooh fuck, Jojo, thanks-- oh!-- for -- giving me another -- ah! crack at this!" It was incredibly hard to not start laughing when Rachel said that.

She had spent most of the last fifteen minutes edging me before we rapidly took up our positions when we heard Joan's car door slam. We expected her to be stunned when she opened the door, but we weren't sure for how long. And we wanted our show to have a nice, big finish for our audience of one.

"Fuck, Rach! Your -- ah! -- your pussy-- fucking magic-- best I've ever had!" Joan's jaw dropped. Then her eyes burned with hatred. "You motherf--!"

Rachel moaned, "Shut up, -- ah!-- bitch! Let our man--" Ooo, that one stung. Joan's expression went from hatred to full-on murderous. " Ah! -- nut in peace!"

Joan angrily strode forward into the living room, but it was too late. "Fucking love you, Rach!" I thrust into her slick cunt one last time and emptied myself, a gusher of cum absolutely filling her. My sexpot co-star came in a loud, wordless shriek of pleasure, her pussy-- and yes, it was the best I'd ever had-- milking me dry.

Joan stopped her forward motion, paralyzed by the wail of the banshee her husband was inseminating. Rach's body shuddered as she came, a rhythmless dance of ecstasy. As the dance ended, she fell forward over the couch arm and moaned, "Love you-- oooh- love you, too, baby."

Tears streamed down Joan's pretty, slack face. Her worst nightmares, all in one horrid tableau: her husband telling another woman, his best friend, that he loved her. The best friend reciprocating that love. Them fucking in front of her, in front of his wife! Her husband cumming inside another woman!

My dick slid from Rachel, coated with her juices and my cum. "Welcome home, Joan. Want to talk about those amendments now? I think you might have an idea about how I'd like them changed." Joan dropped bonelessly to the chair next to her as she started to sob. It broke my heart. But it wasn't enough yet.

I leaned over Rachel's prone form and kissed her shoulder, my eyes on Joan's. A tender display of affection and connection, one that had been reserved for her and her alone for half a decade. "Hey, sexy. Why don't you go thank my wife for opening our marriage up?"

Rachel's grin belonged on a jungle cat. "Mmmm, absolutely, my love." I helped her stand on legs still shaking from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her face turned to mine, but her eyes stayed on Joan as she gave me a kiss; not a deeply passionate one, not the type she'd give someone she was just fucking. It was the type shared by two people who were so intimate that the passion was implied. It only hinted at what the two would share again later. A lover's kiss.

My tigress slinked towards her prey. "Thank you so much, Jojo. I never would have gotten to be with Paul again, if you could have just kept to your vows. Never would have gotten to feel-- " A little shiver made her assets jiggle just a bit, accentuating the differences between her body and Joan's. " -- alllll that cum he can dump into me. So much!" Her hand slipped between her legs and brought a little of our mixed juices out, dripping from her fingertips. "It feels good, doesn't it? The way his cock throbs when he's about to come? The way he looks at you like you're the only thing in his world? I'm so glad we can share that now."

Joan's eyes widened. "Please, don't-- "

Rachel's eyes flashed. "Oh, maybe we should share this, too!" She moved her fingers in front of Joan's face. "Want a taste?" Joan looked away, mouth clamped shut, and Rachel shrugged. "Your loss." She brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked noisily at them. "Mmmmm, so good! You're missing out." A little thoughtful expression danced across her features. "Of course, you're not going to be missing out for long."

"Wh-- what?" My wife's eyes, wide with confusion and fear, snapped to hers.

Rachel bent at the waist, bringing her face level with Joan's. "My pussy, slut. Your husband's cock is going to taste like it every night from now on. When you suck it, you're going to taste me. If he fucks you, it's only going to be after he's been inside of me." Craning her neck closer to Joan, she asked, "Do you like my perfume? I hope so. Your pillows are going to smell like it. Every. Single. Night." She gave my wife a little kiss on the cheek; the scared little woman I had been in love with flinched away.

Rachel straightened up and patted Joan's head. "It's going to be great! I'm so excited to share him with you." Rachel's ownership of me was implied; she was marking her territory, and Joan did not miss it at all. A little bit of cum fell from her pussy, splattering on the tiles. The small, wet sound made Joan flinch again. Rachel laughed. "Such a waste! Well, plenty more where that came from."

Joan was clearly, thoroughly broken now. This was enough; there was no reason to continue. Rachel looked at me. I shook my head just the tiniest bit, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. "Oh, I wish I could stay for dinner. But I have an early day tomorrow, and I know if I stay, Paul will just keep me up all night. You wouldn't mind that, right, Jojo? I mean, you've got your date on Saturday, so it's not like you can complain." She walked towards me, wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me another kiss, then whispered, "Call me later."

Joan just stared off into space, shellshocked, as Rachel and I dressed. When the door slammed shut behind our friend, I quietly said. "You get it now. This isn't something you can just rationalize your way around. I couldn't have lived with you cheating on me, however you dressed it up. Just like you can't live with what I've done." A mute nod from the woman whose heart I'd once hoped to never break.

I sat on the couch across from her chair. Not close enough to touch; we'd never be close again in any way that mattered. My voice was soft with sadness. Resigned. A last gift for my wife, telling her the truth with tenderness instead of anger. "Wedding vows are arbitrary. They matter because they're arbitrary. They're something we make only to the person we love, and they say, 'You will have this from me, and from no other. I will be these things for you, and no one else.'" My vision blurred through my tears. "You can't just change them because you want something new. They're not contracts to be amended. They're oaths to be upheld."

The ring slipped so easily off of my finger. "I would have loved you for the rest of our lives. I would have upheld every oath. I would have been yours and no one else's, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. But you just couldn't forsake all others." The symbol of our marriage dropped onto the glass coffee table, the noise it made a bell tolling the end of our love. I left our home to the sound of Joan's plaintive weeping.

My bags were already packed and in my car. I texted Rachel as I drove. "It's done. Talk to you tomorrow." She had offered to have me stay with her, but I couldn't. It was too much. I needed to get some distance from everything.

Joan was served at home. There was no reason to embarrass her more than I already had. I didn't tell anyone other than Rach why we were really getting divorced, and I assumed Joan didn't either. The filing was under irreconcilable differences; that was close enough to the truth. She didn't fight me on it, or on the terms. I had been fair to both of us. It was about as amicable as these things could be.

Rachel and I were friendly over the next few weeks, but only that. She was my best friend; that hadn't changed. But the way we interacted, the casual touches, the pats on the shoulder, the hugs, those mostly stopped. They had been infused again with a memory of what we had been as students, and what we briefly were on the last night in my home. We both needed to process what all of this meant, and I couldn't do that while I was dealing with the end of my marriage.

A couple months after that night, we were sitting at the bar together; the recent past had seen us there more often than the five years previous put together. It was neutral ground, of a sort. It wasn't that we didn't trust ourselves to be alone at her or my apartment; instead it was that I wasn't ready to explore the new and uncharted territory of our relationship yet. I wasn't sure what its shape was going to be now that a major restraint on it was gone, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing her, too, if we wanted different things.

"I'm gonna head on out."

As I shifted off of the stool, her face broke into a small, almost shy smile. "I wish you'd stay." She had had a long day; we'd been talking about some work problems she'd been having, but I thought we'd got her head back on straight.

"Of course. Did you want to talk about something else?"

She laughed softly. "'Talk' wasn't the verb I was going for, but we can start there." She looked at me, that disarming smile I'd fallen in love with years ago. The one that later convinced me we should try something I was pretty sure we shouldn't. The one that couldn't convince either of us that things were okay between us afterwards.

"Rach..." I knew what she wanted, at least for the next few hours. I wanted it, too. It had been two months for me, and being with her had awakened dormant memories that part of me desperately wanted to relive. But I couldn't be part of what we'd been before I married Joan.

She put a hand up. "Please, Paul, just hear me out." I nodded. "I... if the reason you don't want to is because you're still hurting too much from Joan, I understand. I'll drop this right now. Is that why?" A small shake of my head provoked a sigh of relief from her. "Okay. I'm going to go out on a limb and assume it's not because you don't want to fuck me."

I snorted. "That's a pretty sturdy limb. No, it's because..." I sighed. "What we had after we dated was great, but it's not what I want anymore. I'm not saying I didn't feel close to you then, but it's not... it wasn't the same. And I need to know that, if we get together, that that's what we're both aiming for. That kind of commitment. The kind that we-- that we had before we fucked it up when we were dating."

Rachel looked at her bottle, face drawn and sad. "That I fucked up."

"No, Rach, it took two to tango. I-- "

She snapped, "Yeah, but I called the fucking dance, and we both know it. I was so sure that we'd be able to bring another couple in and swap, and we'd be okay afterwards. That's the mature thing, right?" She shook her head sadly. "I was so sure that I knew everything back then. I was absolutely certain that we'd both be able to handle it. But then I couldn't."

"I couldn't either." Any buzz I had left from the beer was washed away in the painful reminiscence of how we'd changed.

"Yeah, but you tried to. Tried to keep it together for me. For us. I freaked out and bailed. 'I'll always love you, but we should just be friends.' Broke your heart. Broke mine. And I still-- still!-- couldn't stay away. But I hid it behind us just being friends."

She looked at me. "Joan was right. She knew. Knew we weren't just friends, after we stopped dating, that we just pretended so we could keep doing what we were doing without hurting each other. I wish to God I'd been strong enough to stop myself. I wish to God I'd stopped pretending I was some sort of fucking sexual sophisticate when we left college, that I'd done whatever it took to admit what I really wanted. Because now we're friends that might be friends with benefits again, and I don't know how to get us back to where we were before. And I want to, Paul. I want to so badly."

I kissed her. It wasn't a conscious choice, nor was it an aftereffect of the beer. It was because it was all in the open now. We both knew that we had mourned our love even as we pretended it had only changed to friendship. But we were mourning something that had only slept, not died.