Roger and Jill

"Let's shower and go," she said.

We went to the Gilded Lily, the place we had met. It was Saturday night and the place was full. We had to sit at the bar for a while till a two person table opened up. The music was thirties to forties jazz, my favorite sounds. We learned that the piano player's name was Sam—how strange is that. I actually had the balls to ask him to play As Time Goes By, and no doubt because of the sawbuck I slipped into the jar on the piano's top, he did.

Rachel and I danced to it. Thoughts of our thoughtless spouses were far from us during those hours. They would return with a vengeance sooner or later, I was sure, but frankly "Scarlet" I didn't give a damn!

******

I called Jill on Sunday after seeing Rachel off; she'd stayed over with me. I told Rachel to call me on my cell if she needed any help of any kind. She knew what I meant. I was thinking of an irate husband maybe wanting to do something unacceptable to her. He deserved everything he got for taking her for granted as he did. I had the same exact feelings in terms of Jill.

My call to Jill was short. I told her I would be home by noon, and I would either be packing up the rest of my stuff in preparation for the annulment or divorce, whichever, or she was going to have something to say to me that I wanted to hear. She was subdued, but said she understood.

I pulled into the driveway, parked, and went up to the house.

I was surprised to see Connie Rice sitting beside Jill on the couch. I didn't like it. I immediately thought they were there together to gang up on me. Well, if so she'd just lost her chance, if it even mattered to her.

"Hello, Rog," said Connie. Jill rose and came to me expecting a makeup kiss. I held her off. "Honey..." she started to say.

"Hold that thought," I said, "until we get things straight here."

"Okay," she said softly. I could see she was concerned. I felt I knew what was coming. I was right.

Believe it or not, I hadn't noticed how the two of them were dressed till that moment. They were gorgeous. Short pastel summer dresses, hair done up in matching ponytails, their war paint perfect. Jill was in high heels, Connie in flats, but they both looked great.

I went into the kitchen. They looked at me funny as I passed. I got me a cup of coffee from the still half full pot. I returned. They both sighed in relief.

"Honey?"

"You know the drill, Jill, I said, chuckling at my rhyming skills.

"Rog, can I ask you something?" said Connie. I didn't know how much Jill had told her about my ultimatum, but I was pretty sure she knew it all.

"Okay," I said. "I guess so."

"You told Jill no more parties, bars stuff like that, right?"

"Right," I said.

"Does that mean never going out again, can I ask?"

"No, it means not going out to the kinds of places you all have been dragging me to these past few months."

"Okay, what kind of places can Jill go to, again, if I may ask?"

"Nice jazz clubs, like the one I was at last night and the night before after I left you all at the Kitty-Cat. Other places, just not the I-can-dance-with-different-men-if-I want-to places. You both no damn well what I mean, Connie. And, while were at it here, have you lost your voice, Jill?"

"No, I'm just afraid if I say the wrong thing, ask the wrong question, or act wrongly that you'll leave me," said Jill. "I love you, Roger, I just can't lose you; I just can't. I think you've gone off the deep end, but I understand why you're doing this. Anyway, that's why I've asked Connie to help me, not to sandbag you."

"It's simple, really simple. No more parties like the ones you've all been used to," I said.

"Rog, can Jill still see us, I mean our group. If we go out with you to your kinds of places can we be included?"

This was a wrinkle that had not occurred to me. I paused. I actually liked Connie. The others weren't that bad either. Neither Mac nor Michael had hit on my wife that I knew of. They'd danced with her, but not often and not too close. "Yes, I guess that would be okay. But, and it's a big but, if there is even slight pressure for me to relent and accept going to one of the old haunts—I will immediately file and that without comment or conversation. I hope I make myself clear; there shall be no negotiation whatsoever on that score. So, Jill, which is it."

She nodded her acceptance. "I need to hear the words, Jill."

"No more parties like before," she said. She rushed to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I held her.

Connie looked away as Jill and I kissed. "I'll let the others know the deal," said Connie. And she left.

******

I repressed a thought to tell Jill about Rachel. I felt no guilt whatsoever about our time together, but I didn't see the need to complicate the conversation. Frankly, I didn't care if Jill knew or not, but for the moment it didn't matter that she not know.

About a week later I got a call while at work on my cell; it was Rachel. Evidently her night out with me had shaken her husband pretty good. He'd even cancelled his golf game for the following Saturday; they were slated to go to the beach and do some beachcombing—helluva an idea I thought. I laughed as she talked; she'd given me an idea. I broached it to her there on the phone. She agreed.

******

Saturday saw me and Rachel at the beach. Another couple approached and from the other direction and we waved. I pulled Jill in for a sensuous kiss almost right in front of them. Rachel did the same with her husband. We all laughed—supposedly complete strangers to each other. We talked for a minute. Jill, of all people, took the ball and ran with it. She suggested we head for the little sidewalk café a hundred yards distant and have lunch as a foursome. Rachel immediately agreed and we two men were hauled off by our wives.

It came to pass that Rachel and her husband Frank became part of our group; they fit in perfectly. I came to like Frank. And he and Rachel and I and Jill became barbecue-at-the-house kinds of friends. Connie and the others still party apart from us, but at least one weekend a month, we all get together. At first exclusively at the Gilded Lily and then other places of the sort. On rare occasions, Jill still got asked to dance, but she was very selective now and made damn sure that I was numero uno in all ways.

As for Rachel and I. We became close, but "friends" close, not lovers. I think we each thought of ourselves as the other's safety valve. We had no intention to repeat our illicit time together, but it was always a possibility if our mates fucked one or the other or both of us over. But, should that happen; well that would be the making s of another story wouldn't it.