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Click here"In the past I've been The Other Woman who further complicated a couple's already rocky marriage. This is the first time I've been The Other Woman who complicated a couple's good marriage. Both of us are in new territory here--probably all three of us. Let's hope we can make it work. I don't know if that's possible, but I want it to work. Maybe there's a way. Let's try."
"It can work, Beth. Dare I say, Credo quia absurdum?"
"Don't," she said with a little smile. "It touched off enough trouble the first time you said it."
"It was you who said it."
"Next time I'll know better."
************
Beth and I dressed, assembled our gear, and readied the bikes. We gave each other significant looks aplenty, and smiles too, but neither of us felt like talking now, here in the land behind the garage. It was almost as though we believed there really was a Goddess and felt she was still present and there was something a bit sacred about this ground--dumpster and all.
Half-believing in the Goddess was no crazier than what we had actually, truly, demonstrably done, I reasoned. Reasoned? There I go again, slipping back into old bad habits. This afternoon was 'way beyond reason. Thank you, Goddess, for this wonderful gift.
I tossed Beth's punctured inner tube into the dumpster but kept the spent CO2 cartridges. I should wrap one up and give it to her later. She would appreciate the symbolism. Do they still make charm bracelets?
We wheeled the bikes out front to the street, and the spell drifted away. Now we could talk about routes and distances and other mundane matters.
Beth had planned a long, circuitous ride: further westward on the trail to Bolton or even Manchester, then by road, zigzagging east and south to her home in Hebron. Another 25 or 30 miles for her. We could ride together for about half of it. But the day was getting late, and we had both been through a lot. It was time to get home.
She could pick up Wall Street just down Route 6 and take that south, straight into Hebron. That would get her home in about twelve miles. The drawback was a long, killer uphill in the middle: an 11% grade, the signs warned. Beth probably could have climbed it with aplomb on her featherweight Bianchi, standing on the pedals the whole while. But now she had a heavier bike and an injured back. She decided to give it a try anyway.
"If I can't make it up the hill, I'll just get off and walk the bike to the top," she said. "It won't be the first time I've done that. What will be the first time is biking twelve miles with my lover's semen soaking into my chamois. I'll let you know how that works out."
My lover's: I could get used to hearing that. I squeezed her hand. "Many firsts today, Beth. 'Thank you' sounds 'way too trivial for what happened, but... thank you. Ride safe. 'Next time, let's do this properly.'"
"We did it properly this time too, Stephen."
"Yes we did. Now off with you."
She smiled and blew me a kiss. Turned east on Route 6 then south on Wall, crossed under the covered bridge and was gone. I crossed the street then walked my bike up the diagonal path back to the rail trail. I pointed the bike west and started off. I had another couple hours' ride ahead of me. That would give me some time to think about what to do next.
"Never underestimate a middle-aged woman," Dad had said. Well, maybe 35 isn't middle-aged quite yet, but never underestimate one of them either. Let alone two of them. Much as he loved Ann, I'm sure Dad, disciple of the Sexual Revolution and human-powered transport, would have understood what happened today.
The late sixties would have understood.... Jefferson Airplane, Dad's favorite... Grace Slick's hauntingly beautiful voice: "I don't really see... why can't we go on as three." Seven stressed syllables in a row. Credo quia absurdum: also seven. Tertullian caught on to something a bit before I did; Beth too. The old man rang the bell for us. Beth and I, for whom the bell tolls. When the Goddess speaks, who am I to argue? And how the hell do I tell this story to Ann?
- COMMENTS
Klitomatic3 months agoEnjoyed the story, a little wordy, perhaps, still good. Yes, how will he tell Anne, and how will she react. I had a similar experience (Hiking). Nothing consummated at first until my wife asked, you want to have sex with her don't you. My simple answer, "Yes." My wife said OK but that she would want to join in in the future, probably near future. It happened and lasted for half a decade. We still communicate, with no regrets.
arsenelupin66almost 2 years agoOK, I stopped taking this seriously on page 2, this is clearly an intelligent writer's fantasy, and has zero basis in reality, and ergo I have no interest. I have cycled literally 10s of thousands of miles in many states in the US, and have never, ever encountered a damsel in distress, let alone ended up making out with her- that entire scene was just some guy's masturbation fantasy, as is the rest of this dreck. Ugh.
ScottishTexanabout 2 years agoI want to address several items from your story. The first being the following paragraph:
As noted before, everything below Beth's waist was hunky-dory as well. And now, with her naked, I could see that her curly brown pubic hair and curly brown head-hair echoed and complemented each other beautifully. Judging from the Internet, maybe two women in all of North America still had pubic hair, and in ten minutes I could say I was married to one and fucking both of them!
You should adjust your number to at least 4. Both of my exes have never shaved their mons. Of course, I'm totally taking it for granted that they haven't changed their opinions on the matter since we parted ways. But I'm fairly confident that their opinion was pretty much set in stone. I've had girlfriends who shaved and personally I didn't really care for it. I wasn't totally turned off by it, but I did find it very easy to prefer the fur. 😉
The second item is the Browning quote about "all is right with the world." I used that same quote on my second wife right after we made love for the first time. She had asked me how I was feeling and it just fit.
The third item was your line where you questioned whether or not an unmarried woman qualified for the red letter 'A'. I suggest that you pull out your Nathaniel Hawthorne collection and reread the novel. Hester Prynne wasn't married, but her lover was. So the answer is yes, Beth must wear the Scarlet Letter.
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I love a slow burn story. I also tend to get a little overboard on the technical side myself when writing. So please trust me when I tell you that you bored me to tears several times by taking it far deeper than I would have. You need a good editor to help you pare down your work. I could have easily sent about 1/3rd of this chapter to the cutting room floor without hurting the story itself. The extensive dialogue isn't the issue. Having the players go overboard speaking is part of defining their character. But a huge chunk of your narrative was overkill. I gave you a 4/5.
