Lucy Stays

"I didn't think you would, Lucy. That's not why I had to talk to you. I have to know if you are going to tell Fergus. He and Charles are too close. I don't want Charles to find out from Fergus. I'd rather tell him myself, if I have to."

Lucy twisted the rings in circles around her left ring finger. "I have to tell him, Anne. I just couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I just hope he'll forgive me."

"Can you wait until Saturday? Please? Wade will be gone forever Saturday afternoon, and I can tell Charles when he gets back that night. I don't want to have to tell him over the phone. Please?"

"OK, Saturday." Lucy was surprised at how much relief she felt at having a reason to delay telling Fergus. She knew it was a mistake, but it was so much easier to delay.

"Don't you worry about AIDS, Anne? And what if he tells people? Do you trust him?"

"I do trust him, Lucy. I trust him to be just who he is. He's too careful to be a big AIDS risk. He's a health nut. Besides, I got myself tested a few months after he first took me. Negative. And I don't think he'll ever tell. He's an arrogant, infuriating, egotistical jerk, but he sees himself as honorable. It's always a risk, but I think this one is small."

"Well, I think you are fooling yourself, but it's your life. You don't sound too sad that he's leaving you."

"I'll miss the sex, the intensity, but I don't love him. He took me on some kind of roller coaster ride inside, but it wasn't the one I had when Charles and I first fell in love. This was dark, sort of dangerous feeling. But it's mostly worn off. It was exciting, but I'm not sad that it's almost over."

"Would he really have tried to take you in your rear?" Lucy whispered, face red again.

"We did that once," whispered Anne, blushing in return, "and I made him use a condom that time. But I told him never again."

"What was it like? I've never done it?" asked Lucy, curious.

"Well, he used lots of lubrication, so it didn't hurt too much, just when he was pushing in. After I got used to it, it just felt strange, like I had to go or something. Full, like."

"Did you orgasm?"

"Yes," said Anne, blushing even more deeply, "but not from that. He made me play with myself while he did it."

The waiter arrived with food, occasioning a temporary end to conversation, and then departed. Both were relieved to have successfully dealt with their secret, and the talk reverted to their norm for the rest of the meal. In due course, Lucy was off to pick up her kids from day camp again, feeling much lighter in spirit than she had before.

The lightness of spirit lasted until Fergus threw open the door shouted his hellos. As Lucy gave him a dutiful kiss, she knew she couldn't wait until Saturday to tell Fergus. The sick feeling of guilt inside wouldn't let her. Overshadowed by dread, she sleepwalked through her evening routines until it was time for bed.

When she emerged from the bathroom, teeth brushed yet again, Fergus was sitting up against the headboard, half under the covers. He turned out the light as soon as she slid in. She felt his arm slip under her, pull her against his side. From the dark, his voice came, "Wanna tell me about it?"

"What do you...," Lucy started in automatic denial, then paused, and sobbed, "Oh, Fergus, I"m so ashamed. Please don't hate me..."

"Whoa, Lucy. I'll never hate you. Now tell me what's wrong."

Slowly, haltingly, the events at Anne's house came out. All except the tongue touch to his erection and the semen on her lips that she had licked and swallowed. She just couldn't bear to tell Fergus that. She rarely took Fergus in her mouth, even less frequently let him finish there, and she never swallowed. She just couldn't tell him she'd started to do it with another man, had almost taken him into her mouth. That she had had HIS semen on her tongue, her neck, her breasts.

"Please don't hate me, Fergus. I love you. I don't want to lose you. Please forgive me."

"You are stuck with me, Lucy. I love you too. I'll never hate you."

"But can you forgive what I've done?"

"Hmmm, that would be watching Anne, getting pawed by surprise, letting Anne make you come, and putting your hand on his erection," said Fergus. "Just terrible. Shoot, woman, if that's the worst you do in your life, you'll be a saint. But I do want to know why."

"I truly don't know," said Lucy. "I was taken by surprise at first. It was nasty, dirty. I couldn't imagine letting anyone watch. I had never done anything like that in my life."

"That's the first time," said Fergus, "but you went back."

"I wasn't going to. But I just got to thinking that I had never done anything wild, you know, really wild, in my life. My mind was telling me I'd never have another chance. I'm sorry, Fergus, I don't even know why it mattered. I'm happy with you. I don't know why I thought I needed to do it at all."

"So that was the reason for that episode in the den?"

"Yes," said Lucy in a small voice.

"Did you enjoy being with Anne? Do you want to do it again?"

"No," mumbled Lucy, blushing, "I'm not interested in women."

"Then why?"

"It was him. I don't know how to explain. His eyes, the way he looks at me. It's like my will drained away. Somehow he made me want it. He's scary... no, dangerous. Anne feels it too."

"What does he look like?"

"He reminds me an older Gabriel Byrne. Dissolute or something. Except the eyes. The eyes are the same... dark and deep."

"How big is he. Is he bigger than me?"

"No, you're taller, and he's not as powerful looking."

"That's not what I meant. Is he bigger than me?"

Lucy blushed again as she understood what Fergus was asking. She blushed because she was in a position to know the answer. Because Fergus knew she could answer. "No, Fergus, he's about the same. Maybe a little smaller." Instinctively she knew this was the right answer, even though Wade had seemed thicker, somehow.

"So Anne has a playmate," mused Fergus. "Does Charles know?"

"Oh God, no," cried Lucy, "and please don't tell him. I promised Anne I'd wait until Saturday to tell you, so she could tell Charles herself when he gets back Saturday night. Wade will be gone for good by then."

"Wade?"

"That's what she called him."

"Ah, Wade!" whispered Fergus as he rolled out of the bed and stood up. Suddenly the bedside light flicked on. Fergus was nude, erect. "Take off your nightgown, Lucy." A command. Still shaken, unsure of what he thought of her, she complied.

"So Anne took him in her mouth, eh. Show me Lucy. Show me what you saw..."

Fearfully, Lucy moved over to the edge of the bed. What was Fergus doing. Was he trying to punish her, somehow? She stopped close to him, her head down.

"Take it, Lucy. Show me what Anne was doing."

Slowly Lucy raised her head, her eyes bright with moisture. She leaned forward and took him in, feeling the slippery preejaculate against her tongue. Fergus moaned and pushed his hips toward her. "So you watched Anne on her knees, sucking him? Just like this?" He groaned.

And suddenly Lucy knew that Fergus wasn't punishing her; he wasn't even thinking of her. He was thinking of Anne! Thinking what it would be like to put his cock in Anne's mouth. For a second, she was washed with anger, and then realized how ludicrous that was. Then she thought of HIM, of taking Wade into her mouth, just like Anne. Just like this. Suddenly the beginnings of excitement overtook her for the first time that night. It was like his fantasy freed her for hers, and she responded by taking him farther into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the underside. Fergus groaned again.

Then her mouth was empty. "Turn around, Lucy. Put your ass up for me like Anne did." Lucy was only too happy to comply. On hands and knees, she let her head droop to the mattress, until the crown was touching the sheet. Behind her she felt Fergus moving, lining up his penis, then thrusting forward.

A vision of him plunging into Anne formed in her brain. She looked at own her breasts, bouncing back and forth in time with Fergus' thrusts, but she saw Anne's breasts. The thought of her husband roughly taking Anne opened some final barrier to pleasure in her mind, and released her to think of HIM. For the next few moments, each of them used the other as a proxy, joined only at the loins, not in mind or spirit. Each coupled with someone who wasn't there. It was wild, wanton, mindless release. Lucy slammed her body back against Fergus' pelvis and keened a song of abandon. Without warning she froze, moaned, and felt her vaginal muscles spasm rhythmically.

Lucy began to relax and fall forward, but Fergus grabbed her hips and pulled her forcefully back, impaling her again. And again. Lucy came again. She was just finishing her contractions when Fergus began pumping in short quick strokes, finally holding her tightly to his body as his hips jerked spasmodically. "Oh Lucy, my love, oh God," he cried at his release.

Lucy fell forward, turning on her side as she did. Fergus crawled beside her and made spoons, hugging her tightly to him from behind. Neither spoke as their breathing slowly subsided. Fergus got up, saying, "Back in a sec."

Lucy knew he had gone for ice water, and tonight she needed it. A thin sheen of perspiration covered her, less from the temperature than from her excitement. She pondered Fergus' cry at climax. Maybe he wasn't with Anne... she mused, pleased at the thought but guilty as well, because she had been with Wade in her mind.

She sat up when Fergus returned through the door, dropping her calves over the side of the bed. He handed her a glass, but not the usual tumbler of ice water.

"After all that, I thought you needed something more than water," he said. "It's Stoly from the freezer. Cock the wrist and one motion, just like they showed us at the Serbian Crown."

Remembering the waiter that had put his arms around her from behind to show her the proper motion to throw down the shots of iced vodka that flowed freely that night, and who incidentally managed to cop a feel of her breast as he pulled away, Lucy smiled and downed the vodka in her glass. It burned in her throat, but it felt good, different from the cloying routine they had developed. She hoped it was a harbinger of other changes.

"Now I really do need some water," she said.

Fergus grinned as his other hand proffered the glass. "After something like that, you can have anything you want from me. I've never seen you so passionate. It was great."

But his face was serious as he sat on the bed beside her. "You can go back tomorrow, if you want. Lucy, I listened to what you told me and it sounded to me like you will always regret it if you don't let yourself go at least once in your life. I can live with it, if it's just this once."

"I can't go back, Fergus," said Lucy, eyes downcast. "You don't understand."

"Then explain," said Fergus.

"Fergus, if I go back, I am going to be fucked. Is that what you want?" Her voice was flat.

Fergus looked surprised. Lucy normally didn't talk like that. "You managed to avoid it so far. What would be different? You're not falling in love with him, are you?"

"Oh Lord, no, Fergus. I am not in love with him. But the feeling around him is like that except dangerous and dirty. It's the same feeling of a rush, except it's not like love. It made me feel... I came close, Fergus. I wanted to let him have me, just like he had Anne. You just don't understand. There's something about him. It took all my strength to pull away. If I go back.. "

Fergus was silent. Finally, he spoke, "You can go back if you need to, Lucy. Even if you can't resist him. I took you off the market before you had a chance to experiment, and now you're regretting it. Have a fling if you need it. It's okay. It's better than knowing that you are living with regret at not taking your chance. Maybe coming to resent me for it. Just come back to me."

"Don't say it," whispered Lucy. "I'm not going back."

"I love you, sweet wife," said Fergus, pulling her into his embracing arms.

"Oh I love you so much," answered Lucy.

They sat together for quite a while, then rose to slide into the bed. Eventually they slept.

Friday night found Lucy alone in the house when she arrived home from her job as an occasional fill-in at an exclusive women's shop. She didn't really need the work, but she loved the employee discount. Fergus had left with the kids before she had arrived, taking them first to race real go-carts at a track an hour away, and then another hour on to visit the cousins at Jane and Bob's. They would return late the next afternoon.

Breezing into the kitchen, she found a note on the refrigerator door telling her she would find a chef's salad within. She spread the evening paper in front of her on the breakfast table and read through it randomly while she ate. She felt much more relaxed now that she had decided not to go back. Maybe Fergus had meant what he said the night before, and maybe her nipples hardened even now as she thought of spreading her legs for HIM, of letting HIM enter her, but it was so much easier just to say no. No to the worry. No to complications. No to the only other cock you'll ever have the chance to experience? came the insidious inner dialogue.

His was not the only penis she had touched or seen when she had married Fergus, but his was the only penis that had ever been inside her. The thought used to make her feel proud. Now it made her feel confined. Fergus told you to go. Don't blow this chance. said the inner voice, You *want* to feel it, you *want* to let go, to be wild and wanton just once. When will you ever have this chance again? And with your husband's approval? And what if Fergus changes his mind, came the response. What if he finds he doesn't want a wife who isn't surprised or seduced, but deliberately goes to Anne's house, knowing she is going to give herself to HIM. Is it worth it? What if they make you have oral sex with Anne this time? Do you want that? Act like an mature adult.

With conscious effort, she quelled these thoughts. "I'm going to take a long, hot bath, put on my nightgown, and eat ice cream in front of the TV tonight," she said aloud to the silent walls. She smiled and walked into her bedroom.

Only to be plunged back into turmoil again when she saw the bed. Or rather, what had been placed on the bed. Elastic top white stockings. White high heels. White silk bikini panties. And her short white silk dress with the high neck and low back. The one Fergus loved so much because she couldn't wear a bra with it. All white, like a virgin bride. Or a virgin sacrifice. The inner voice was amused. But Lucy was not. How can he love me if he pushes me at another man? What kind of crap is this? Maybe it's because he does love you. Maybe he knows you want just once to break out and be wild. Can you doubt now that he wants you to go? You may never have this chance again. "But I can't go now. I told Anne no," she said out loud.

Turning from the bed, she threw off her clothes, uncharacteristically letting them stay wherever they hit the floor. She took her long hot bath, unconsciously diligent to wash and shave with unusual care and thoroughness, using the body lotions until she felt soft and smelled sweet in every nook and cranny of her body. She was still naked, blowing her hair dry in the bathroom, when the phone rang. Thinking it might be Fergus, she rushed to pick it up.

It was Wade. "Anne told me you are alone tonight. She wants you with us. We'll pick you up in twenty minutes." Click.

Numbly she replaced the phone on the hook. She turned her head to her left, slightly, to see her reflection in the big mirror doors of the closet. She saw a woman with uncertainty etched into her face, and, as glaring as a neon sign behind her, the white patchwork on the dark bedspread. Suddenly she knew why her ablutions had been so thorough, why her bikini line was freshly shaved. She put on the white panties. Twenty minutes later she was being driven away in the back seat of Anne's car, listening to Mozart from the speaker.

He had arrived in a huge red Cadillac convertible, something from the sixties with fins on the back. Seeing his eyes when he opened the door of his car for her, she knew he planned to take her that night. If there had ever been any doubt, it had been dispelled once and for all when he spoke over the soft rumble of the car engine, "Tonight I am going to fuck you, Lucy. Even as your wedding ring sparkles on your finger, you will spread your legs for me and guide my cock into your pussy. With your left hand, Lucy, the hand that wears that ring. And you will come, Lucy. As you will come again in the morning when I fuck you in your own bed, after I drive you home. That is what will happen if walk through the door at Anne's. Make up your mind before we get there."

His arrogance was both infuriating and exciting. She thought about the image he described, her legs apart, guiding his cock into her, and felt demeaned. And aroused. She knew that if she rubbed her finger over the crotch of her panties she would find it slick with lubrication. A new litany began in her mind, so close to the previous one, but with one ever so important difference: HE's going to fuck me. HE's going to fuck me right in front of Anne. HE's going to put his cock in me and fuck ME. And I'm going to let him.

An icy finger of fear caressed her spine about five minutes from her house. "This isn't the way to Anne's. Where are you taking me?"

"Why, tonight is Friday night, Lucy. Date night. I am taking you dancing."

After the Mozart in the car, the raucous rock band was almost a physical assault when he opened the door to the club. Taking one woman on each arm, he steered them to the bar. Anne and Lucy sat on stools, while he stood between them.

"You ladies look as though you could do with a cocktail. Allow me. Stingers all around," he ordered, doing a passable Cary Grant imitation.

Lucy was irritated that he had ordered for her without asking, but smiled at the Cary Grant accent. It never occurred to her that Wade might be charming. She had never tried a Stinger. She was surprised when it turned out to be good. The first one went down easily, and he ordered a second round.

For the next hour, the three of them bantered, laughing and joking at each others' witticisms. Lucy found that she was really enjoying herself, and marveling at a wonderfully engaging side of Wade that she never would have guessed existed. She began to see how Anne could have been attracted to him in the first place.

Then, in the middle of a pleasant and quite ordinary exchange, in a normal conversational tone, he said, "Are you wearing panties, Lucy?"

Her head jerked around to see if anyone had heard. No one appeared to be looking at them.

"I asked if you were wearing panties, Lucy."

"Since you ask, yes," she said defiantly, matching the conversational tone.

"You don't need them. Take them off and give them to me, Lucy."

"I'll do no such thing," said Lucy.

"I want you to be acutely aware that you are here with me to be fucked tonight, Lucy, just as Anne is. Are you wearing panties, Anne?"

"No," Anne replied in a small voice.

"Show Lucy that you are not wearing panties, Anne."

Anne looked around the bar area uncertainly, and then pulled up her skirt, giving Lucy a quick glimpse of her pubic hair before smoothing the skirt back down over her thighs.

"Your choice, Lucy. The panties or I will take you straight home."

Lucy grew annoyed again at his arrogance, at this public display, but she was excited by the prospect as well. Up to this point, she had given no overt sign that she might actually accede to his will, other than simply by coming along. If she did as he asked, she would have to admit to herself that she was here because she *wanted* him to take her. And he would know it too. But it was so sordid. She left for the ladies room without a word. Anne started to follow, but the man put his hand on her arm.