New England Triad Ch. 02

Good lord! Is that her only non-negotiable demand? Or is this just the calm before the storm?

"I promise you that, Ann. I spend every night sleeping next you, in our bed, as always. Shall we promise each other?"

"Ask me if it becomes an issue in the future. Then I'll probably promise you the same. As a practical matter, where I am at night shouldn't be on your current list of major worries."

Then she shifted gears. "Stephen, this is not a good time for a big explosion. Or even any more heart-to-heart talk. Neither one of us has our head screwed on straight at the moment. Neither one of us is thinking very rationally. We need to revisit this situation, but not tonight. I need some time to myself now, and then let's go to bed. I have to get up and go to work tomorrow morning."

"Good ideas," I said. "A kiss before we part?"

We kissed. In truth, I've had better kisses, but I was in no position to complain. I left my wine on the coffee table: Ann would probably want it. I used the bathroom then retreated to my study and closed the door. I intended just to sit and see where my thoughts took me.

A text message was waiting on my smartphone: "Do you have any idea who my new client is? And who my contact person is?"

I texted back: "Extremely strong suspicions."

Then I sent another. "Ann & I talked. You called it well. She knows my lover's first name. I'll call tomorrow."

************

Had Ann kept her maiden name, Beth might have gone months before discovering who her contact person actually was. But a woman with a ring on her finger and "Ann Lancome" on her business card... there was no getting around that. Poor Beth. And how much longer would it be before a smart cookie like Ann divined that "her" Beth and "my" Beth were the same person? One small slip of the tongue on Beth's part would do it. Or a simple question from Ann. "What does your friend do for a living, Stephen?"

I called Beth Thursday morning to touch base. The work for Edson-Kelly was going nicely, she said. She was getting a lot of it done at home but at this point would still have to make frequent trips to the office. Later this morning she would go in and spend some more time working with Ann. Then an hour or two with some I.T. people, brainstorming ways of getting the design of the print catalogue and the design of the online catalogue within shouting distance of each other.

On Friday there would be another work session with Ann, then Ann was taking her out to a late lunch.

"Oh Jesus!" I muttered.

"Oh Jesus indeed. To complicate matters as much as possible, Ann and I like each other a lot. So there's a chance that, after a drink or two, she might confide some things to me about her husband's recent antics. If that happens, every possible response I could make--including shooting myself--ends up hurting both Ann and me--and you as well. Think it through and you'll see."

"I see already. How about if we try coming at this from a different angle? Ann is surely going to find out there is only one Beth in her life. From the point of view of your own well-being, what would be the best way for her to find out? And when would be the best time? Assuming 'never' is not an option."

"For my own sake, I guess sooner rather than later. Maybe for everybody's sake. Probably I should be the one to tell her. And if I fail to do so very soon, you absolutely have to. If she figures this out on her own weeks from now, she'll be spitting nails because you and I both deceived her and betrayed her. That's going to damage all three relationships a whole lot more just Party A having a roll in the hay or two with Party B."

"More than two, I hope."

"Not this week, lover. This period is looking to be extra crampy and probably high-flow. I think my reproductive system had been dozing for a few months, and you suddenly woke everything up at once. Sunday you might possibly talk me into some cunnilingus if you're free. Assuming you wouldn't be scared off by a little white string and possibly a spot of blood on your chin."

"It would be a delight to go down on you on Sunday--or any other day, for that matter."

"Good man."

"How's tomorrow?" I asked.

"For oral sex?"

"For 'coming out' to Ann. At lunch."

"Oh Jesus. Logically, yes. I'll try."

************

I'm piecing this part together from things Ann or Beth or both of them told me.

Not surprisingly, Ann was looking and acting stressed at the office on Thursday and again on Friday. She and Beth got some good work done together on both days, but everyone could see that Ann was a bit "off." On Friday the two women left for lunch around 2, in their separate cars. Ann was taking the rest of the afternoon off, charging the hours against vacation time.

They drove to the Wooden Keg--a nice pub near the office, knotty pine inside, not trendy but with pretty good food--and found a quiet booth in the back. They ordered a fried calamari appetizer, a half bottle of white wine, then club sandwiches on toasted rye to follow. Funny how similar their tastes were. They chatted about this and that as, with their fingers, they dunked calamari rings into the cocktail sauce then into their mouths. The hell with Miss Manners: a long, hard week is officially over, and we're going to unwind.

As time passed, Ann visibly relaxed and brightened. Beth felt relieved.

"I guess I've been kind of cranky the past couple of days," Ann said. "Sorry about that. This calamari is amazingly therapeutic. Unless of course it's the wine."

"Having a bad period? I am."

The waiter came with the sandwiches. The girls each ordered one more glass of white wine. All by themselves again, Ann answered Beth's question.

"No, it's not that. A domestic kerfluffle. I'm sure I got more upset with Stephen than the situation really warranted."

Beth sensed danger. The subject was a minefield. And this was the first time Ann had spoken that name in her presence.

"'Stephen' is... your husband?"

"I think you know that, Beth." Ann was looking Beth in the eye.

Beth was startled in the extreme. Three seconds after she had realized a game was being played, she had thoroughly, unequivocally lost. How was Ann able to do that? The only path Beth could see now was to give up, 'fess up, and endure whatever was going to happen next. All right: let's confess with some dignity.

"That's exactly what Stephen would say!"

Ann smiled. "One of the many hazards of matrimony. People start looking like their pet and sounding like their spouse." Ann was touched by Beth's gracious surrender. No bluster, no protestations of innocence, no lies, and a great deal of tact. No wonder Stephen liked her.

Ann reached out, squeezed the back of Beth's hand, then withdrew. "It's all right, Beth. Of course he would be attracted to you. And of course you would find Stephen desirable--maybe not at first glance, but once you spent a little time with him. I had sex with him on our second date, and I'm still kicking myself for waiting so long."

Beth couldn't help smiling at that. "I was trying to find a way to tell you today, Ann--tell you there are not two Beths here, just me. I was still working on how to do that when you outed me. How did you know?"

They started in on their club sandwiches as they talked.

"Oh," Ann replied, "Sherlock Holmes would have been proud of me--though he would have done it in half the time. My chain of reasoning went like this, Watson: Tuesday a girl is on a long bike ride all by herself. Now, any average boy might well decide to have a solo adventure. American girls are trained not to do anything even remotely bold or anything at all solo. So what kind of girl would be on a bike, solo, somewhere in the wilds of Darkest Andover--and carrying a spare tube and CO2 cartridges, to boot? Most likely a girl who is a serious bicyclist. Stephen told me her first name is Beth. I didn't want to know her last name.

"Now look at your body, especially those legs: slim, toned, a touch of real muscles. You obviously do something athletic. Not Olympic-level: healthy-amateur level. You practically radiate health and vitality. You wore that cute short skirt today. Even with your pantyhose, people can see that distinctive suntan. Darkest for several inches just above the knee, quite pale below the knee. Who gets a tan like that? I happen to know.

"Plus that small patch of dark brown on the back of each wrist, right where your bike glove ends. I ride a bike a little myself. My father-in-law was a bike nut. My husband is a bike nut. I know what a serious bicyclist's body looks like in July. Which is very nice indeed, by the way, apart from the weird tan.

"Alas, bicycling is still mostly a men's sport. So come on: how many serious female bicyclists named Beth can there be in this part of the state?"

Beth was impressed. But Ann had more to say.

"Now, if I were more clever than I am, at lunch I might have spoken some obscure bike lingo--I've picked up enough from Stephen. Spoken it and seen if you had any idea of what I was talking about. A 'SRAM bottom bracket' or 'Campy' or something. But I didn't think of it, and I really hadn't made any plans at all about our chat at lunch, and I actually didn't feel I needed any more evidence. Probably, ever since we met Wednesday, you've been giving off--and I've been picking up--subliminal signals that something very complicated and uncomfortable is happening with us. What kind of bike do you ride?"

Beth looked wistful. "Currently, a loaner. A decent enough but nondescript old Nishiki 10-speed. The bike I destroyed last month was my carbon fiber Bianchi Sprint." She chortled. "With SRAM everything including bottom bracket."

"I'm so sorry, Beth. Were you hurt?"

"The usual abrasions plus a hairline spinal fracture or two. I'll heal. You are being remarkably nice to me, Ann. All things considered."

"We do have to work together for at least a few months longer. On the catalogue and maybe other projects beyond that. Even if we hated each other we'd still have to bury the hatchet. But we don't hate each other, do we? I think we rather like each other."

"Why invite me to lunch? Just to tell me that you know?"

"I didn't know when I invited you. I didn't connect the dots until this morning, when I got my first good look at your legs. After that I looked at your wrists. The single-Beth theory was not conclusively proven, but it seemed extremely likely. At that point I could either cancel lunch or else go through with it just to see what happens. And maybe clear the air a little, so we can all relax a little and all feel at least a little bit better?

"'You're fucking my husband.' There: now it's official. Now everybody knows that everybody knows, and look: the sky did not fall. Oops. I guess 'everybody' now includes the people in the next booth. Why don't we hold hands on the way out and really give them something to scratch their heads about?"

Beth accepted Ann's invitation to lighten up. "Why do things half-way? Let's go back to your place and have a threesome." Beth meant this as a joke. I think. Well, mostly as a joke.

"Absolutely not, at the moment. Stephen has done absolutely nothing to deserve a treat that big. That one he's going to have to earn. At the moment he's lucky he's not sleeping on the sofa. Besides, it's your period. That wouldn't deter you-know-who in the slightest--God bless him--but as you know, getting bloodstains out of the sheets is no fun all."

Beth grasped Ann's hand, squeezed, and smiled, looking Ann in the eyes. She was grateful for Ann's kindness and also her humor. How many wives were capable of acting like that?

What Ann said next was kind of a real question, kind of a reassurance, and kind of a gentle but firm warning. It was extremely deftly put, Beth thought.

"Beth, this affair is not going to go on forever, right?"

"No," Beth said. "For one, I don't think any woman is capable of prying Stephen away from you. And so far, I've never even wanted to. And how stable can a triangle be? Well, geometrically, I guess it's pretty stable, but... I guess I need a better metaphor....

"Anyway, I know you realize: as I was putting on my jersey Tuesday morning I was not thinking, 'How many happy marriages can I destroy today?' Somehow I stumbled into your lives. In the most awkward way imaginable. I'm not claiming innocence. I could see what I was doing--though I never had the foggiest idea of what I was going to do next."

"And still don't, I gather," Ann said. "But if you had to do it all over again, you'd do pretty much exactly the same thing. And I wouldn't blame you.

"I think I do understand how you managed to stumble into my life, Beth. I did some very similar stumbling a few years back. Stephen was enormously kind and patient with me. I owe him for that. Do you know that Auden poem? Sometimes when I'm holding him I think, "Lay your sleeping head, my love, / Human on my faithless arm...."

"Yes. 'Lullaby.'"

"Now Stephen can think it when he's holding me. That's one of the reasons he's not sleeping on the sofa. Yet."

"You love him so much," said Beth.

"Yes. Despite ten years of marriage, we still love each other."

"Ann, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be. Stephen will just have to learn to cope with some additional love and affection for awhile."

Once again Beth was startled. She thought, did Ann just say what what I think I heard her say? Would anyone say what what I think I heard her say?

To Ann it seemed like a good moment to depart. Neither of them needed to use the rest room again. Ann left on the table enough cash to cover the bill and a good tip. Despite Ann's earlier suggestion, the two did not hold hands on their way out. The people in the next booth had gotten enough free entertainment. But there was a brief hug in the parking lot. A passer-by would have found their goodbyes banal. You'd have to know the context to grasp what was being said.

Beth took Ann's hand. "Thank you for lunch."

Ann smiled and squeezed the hand. "See you Monday."

Beth drove off, stunned. Without exactly saying so, Ann had granted Beth and me some time to figure out what the hell we were doing. She was not demanding that Beth and I stop having sex. Was not even saying, "Make damned sure you two don't fall in love with each other." The boom might be lowered later, but not for awhile.

But Ann too had had come out ahead. She had shown Beth clearly that the bonds in her marriage were very strong. More than strong enough to survive a "faithless arm" or two, or four, and a wandering penis or two. The bonds were strong enough that Ann could treat even her husband's new lover with grace and kindness and some real affection. Any Jezebel who might be thinking of laying siege to this castle really ought to think things through again.

I doubted that Ann was as unruffled as she had appeared this afternoon. She certainly hadn't been on Wednesday night, when I told her of this new complication. Was Ann conducting brilliant psychological warfare against Beth? Or was at least some of that grace, kindness, and confidence genuine? Or both? Who is this creature I keep finding in my bed every morning?

************

Ann returned home Friday around 5. She joined me in the kitchen, where I was starting to make dinner.

"I had a nice lunch with your lover today," my wife announced.

Is there a safe way to respond to that?

"How very French," I tried. "And next thing, the two ladies decide to work together to murder the old jerk and split the inheritance. What was the name of that movie?"

"I don't know, but I do like the plot. On Monday I'll run the idea past Beth and see if she's interested."

"Ann, I've known the identity of your new freelancer for only... 43 hours. I've been racking my brain for the way for everybody to get on the same page with the least trauma."

"You might simply have told me 43 hours ago."

"By late Wednesday night you had had all the upset you needed for one day. Later, it appeared the best way for you, and probably Beth too, would be for her to tell you ASAP. How did it go?"

"Actually, I figured it out before she could tell me. I outed her at lunch. I must say, she responded with great grace and tact. The girl's got class, all right. I'm actually quite fond of her. Now tell me straight: is there any other important information that you know and I don't?"

"No."

"Any important information that she knows and I don't?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Any important information that you know and I don't?"

"Yes, Stephen, two items. One: I am going to give you two starry-eyed adolescents a little more time to figure out what the hell it is you are doing... and how you are going to reconcile whatever it is with the marriage that one of you claims he cares about.

"Two: within the next one minute you are going to put that chicken back in the refrigerator, wash your hands, take me upstairs, and begin treating me to the best sex you can muster."

I kissed her, then submitted to her latest non-negotiable demands.

************

Ann clearly wanted some dominant/submissive sex this time. Just as clearly, it was my turn to be submissive. I didn't mind. In our twelve years of lovemaking we had tried every possible combination of nearly every possible role. It was all good. It also made sense that this is what Ann needed at the moment: something over which she was actually in control. I could give her at least that.

I sat on the bed as Ann removed her shoes, Peds, slacks and panties. She kept her blouse, bra, and necklace on. Turning her back to me, she quickly prepared and inserted her diaphragm. Then she turned and faced me again.

"Strip," she said.

I took off all my clothes. She bade me lie on my back on the bed. Then she climbed up, straddled my head, and lowered her pussy onto my mouth. Further instructions were not necessary. With my tongue I explored and caressed everything within reach. As her secretions increased I paid more and more attention to her clitoris, with occasional forays around and into her vagina. Meanwhile my hands caressed her hips and thighs. As her climax approached I increased the pressure and the speed of my tongue as it flicked up and down against her clitoris. Ann, master of silent sex, even began making noises--Aagh! aagh!--a sign that things were proceeding very well indeed. Her orgasm seemed like quite a nice one. She grabbed the headboard to steady herself for thirty seconds afterwards.

"Let's do that again," she said, so we did. The second round took about ten minutes, about twice as long as the first. Not that I was complaining.

After her second orgasm, Ann wanted genital sex--with her still on top and in control, of course. She sucked on my penis just enough to get me erect again, then mounted me. She laid her fully-clothed chest against my naked one and began rubbing her clitoris against my pubic bone. I fondled her bottom with one hand and a breast with the other, gently tugging on its nipple through her blouse and bra.

After a couple of minutes she wanted to kiss too. Surprisingly, she set aside the dominant/submissive roles for this. Instead we enjoyed some sweet, sexy, mutually affectionate kissing. When her tongue entered my mouth it was playful, not aggressive. All the while we were still fucking, of course. It wasn't long until she had her third orgasm. It was smaller than the first two but apparently very pleasant. At that point I stopped trying to hold back my own release, and I came inside her.

I half expected her to order me to get my tongue down there and clean out and swallow all the semen I had deposited, but she didn't. She had had enough of dominance and submission for tonight. Instead, she snuggled in my arms, kissed the side of my neck, and whispered, "Thank you." For a change I had done something that had made her feel better rather than worse.