Scheherazade Nights Ch. 04

* * Thursday Night * *

John got home late that night; things were busy at work. Debbie was reading in bed when he came in. She could see he was tired and moved around behind him, massaging the muscles at the base of his neck.

"I was going to jump your bones," she said teasingly, "but I can see that you'd be worthless." She bent around and gave him a kiss and a smile to make sure he knew she was kidding.

"Sorry, hon, I'm pooped," he replied.

"All right, bud; you get a pass tonight. But don't think you're weaseling on Saturday," she said, laughing.

He grinned...tired, half-hearted, but a definite grin. Lopsided, though, almost awkward.

"Hehe, are you nervous, my dear?" she asked in her best...which was terrible...Russian accent, twirling an imaginary mustache and leering at him.

"More than you realize." He gave her the odd grin again, his eyes not meeting hers, flipped out his light and slid down under the sheets.

Debbie leaned back, her eyebrows raised. That had been a peculiar response. They were each slightly nervous before the other's fantasy days, of course. Who wouldn't be? But, still, it was usually more of an excited nervousness, one that made them horny more than anything else. They had been doing this for a while and, with that one exception, things had gone well...startling and jittery sometimes...but well. Was he having second thoughts?

She reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "John? Is there something bothering you about Saturday?"

John rolled back and looked at her, thinking. Finally, "You left the box in the den a couple of days ago. It didn't have any name on it, and was just folded shut, so I looked in it." He paused a moment. "I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to snoop; it didn't occur to me that you had left stuff like that out. It was just a 'what's this?' moment."

She sighed. The collar and manacles set and all the other stuff from the party. Claire had dropped them off a couple of days ago and she had set them aside and momentarily forgotten about them while they chatted over a glass of tea. Then John had come home and Claire said she had to leave--she had walked Claire out to her car and the two had talked for another ten minutes.

She looked at John now, trying to think what she should say, if anything.

He spoke first, "Deb, it's no big deal. I'm not sure how much desire I really have in that direction--I get a little spasm of, I don't know, almost claustrophobia thinking about having that on. But, well, it's your day and...hon...it really doesn't freak me out; it just makes me nervous. I'm game. I trust you," he leaned up and gave her a kiss on the cheek as he said that. "Really!"

She looked at him for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him soundly. "I love you. It will be fine, you'll see."

He nodded and curled back to get some sleep.

* * Friday Night * *

Friday wasn't so good. When Debbie got home that night, John was already home, sitting in the den, looking a little grim.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi, hon. Got a moment? I'd like to ask you something."

She sat.

"Today Laura was in my office giving me some papers. I made some comment about the week totally sucking, and how glad I was that it was Friday, and how I just wanted to go relax.

"Then she said to me, 'Maybe you could ask Debbie if Deborah could help you relax?' and then gave me this grin," he finished, staring at her. "I don't really want to jump to conclusions but it seems somewhat obvious. Did you tell her about Fremont?"

Debbie got wide-eyed. "Yes, I did. I told the story on Wednesday night."

"Debbie!..." his voice was filled with frustration.

"John, you said I could!"

"What?!?"

"You said I could tell the girls about my second one and the Fremont."

John thought about that for a minute. "I thought you were talking about just Claire, Mary and Anne."

"Oh..."

"I guess I misunderstood," he said.

Now it was Debbie's turn to sigh. "Since I told all of them about The Game the previous Wednesday, I didn't realize you meant...I guess I should have made sure we were clear. Oh hell!" She stared around. "I'm so sorry, John! How bad is this? I know she works with you..."

"Not with me...for me. She's been assigned to me for a case I'm working on. Now I've got someone reporting to me who is hearing sexual fantasies from my wife. I don't even want to think about where this could go if there was a harassment suit."

"Oh shit!"

They sat there in silence for a while, neither sure what to say. Finally, Debbie asked, "Where do we go from here, John? I didn't mean to cause any problems and I really thought you said it was okay."

"I understand." Silence.

"And I don't think Laura is going to cause any problems. It doesn't seem like her and you said she seemed just to be making a joke?"

"Maybe you're right. I guess I'll find out." Silence.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

"Yes." Silence.

"At me?" she asked in a small voice.

He was quiet a moment, sighed. "I don't know. I was ten minutes ago, for sure. Now," he looked around the room, "it seems mostly we weren't real clear about what each other was saying...no one person's fault, I guess. I'm just mad at the situation."

She sat watching him. "Do you want to quit playing? This was one of the things we wanted to avoid--I understand if you want to."

"Honestly, I don't know." He met her eyes, "I like playing, Deb: not only is it fun in itself, but I kinda like how things are going with the 'us' part of it.

"But, I can't let work go south over it. If this blows up--let's just say that my mood now will look calm and pleasant in comparison."

"Can we figure out a way to fix all this?" she asked.

"Maybe, but I need to think about it over the weekend. On that subject, about tomorrow," John began...paused...continued, "I don't know."

He said, kind of stumbling over his words, "It's like this. I'm not exactly in a loving and trusting mood right at the moment. I know I said I'm mad at the situation but part of me is still reacting to you. And, what you have planned needs...well...," he shook his head in frustration, "...the thought of being...I just really don't want to do it right now!"

"John...," she started.

"No, wait. Look, I'm not saying I want to stop The Game. I know tomorrow is yours fair and square. And I know that it's not your problem whether I want to do something. But, unless your plan was always to have me really be unwilling, I think you'd have a better time if I wasn't resentful."

He looked at her defiantly, "I really don't want to do something like that right now and I'd like you to postpone it--but you're the boss."

She walked over and sat down on the arm of his chair, putting her arms around him. "John, if you want tomorrow cancelled, I will. But, I think you have the wrong idea about what it's going to be like."

"What do you mean, wrong idea?" he interrupted. "Unless you're telling me that this is some kind of submissive fantasy and I'm going to be putting you in that collar, I think I have a good idea."

Did she tell him? She didn't want to. "John, bottom line. If you want me to postpone, I will. If you want me to get everything pre-approved with you, I will.

"But, I don't really want to tell you about the day," she said; he rolled his eyes at that. "I believe you will have fun, and that it will be better if we just go ahead like I planned. Will you trust me?

"If I'm wrong, and you hate it from the first moment, you can tell me you don't want to do it and we'll stop. You can tell me what an insensitive bitch I am. We can fight and maybe have makeup sex...or not...but, either way, you can stop it. Please?" she said, making a pleading face, trying to get a smile back.

"Oh, you want me to lose my points?" he asked, a little black humor the best he could do.

"No, no points lost because I would have been screwing with this being playful. You asked me not to do this and I won't hold it against you. Rule #1.

"Please, I think you'll enjoy it more than you know. Trust me?"

* * Saturday Night * *

Sex was great.

* * Sunday Night * *

"Do you want me to call Laura?" she asked.

"I need to talk to her first. I'm the one with the work problem. You can talk to her after, if you want."

* * Monday Night * *

"Did you talk to her?"

"Well, actually, she talked to me first. As soon as I got in, she was in my office saying she felt she needed to apologize, that she realized later she had been totally out of line and had probably made me very uncomfortable.

"She said she'd never even have thought of saying anything if there had been anyone around, but that she slipped with just the two of us, wanting to make me laugh. I could tell she was really upset at herself.

"We talked about it for a while. I made it pretty clear how big a deal this was for me; she made it pretty clear how horrified she was at the slip.

"By the way, she hoped that you and she were still friends and she'd apologize to you in person this week."

Debbie waited, then said, "How do you feel about what she said?"

"A lot more comfortable than I did yesterday."

* * Tuesday Night * *

"We do need to figure this all out, Deb."

She looked at him questioningly.

"The stories. Seven women know. That's a lot if you want something kept secret."

"I'll stop saying anything. No problem; it's done." She nodded sharply once, then turned back to making coffee.

He sat, toying with remains of dinner on his plate, "Be honest with me, Deb. If you could have it any way you wanted, what would that be? Would you keep telling them?"

"Not if it hurts us," her answer was quick and definite.

"But, leave that aside. Would you want to tell more?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Why?"

It was her turn to be quiet for a while. "A couple of reasons, I guess. Part of it is that it did help Anne; she really has perked up. You've seen that." He nodded.

"Part of it is that the girls were having fun."

Pause...finally, "But, really, those are just small parts. I guess the major thing is that I simply enjoyed it. It was kind of a turn on for me to do it, once I got over my embarrassment.

"So, to answer your question," she turned and looked at him, "if there were no larger issues, yes, I'd keep doing it. But, there are larger issues; we can't ignore them. So, I stop. John, there was never even a question about it--I would have always stopped--in a heartbeat."

He stirred for a bit. "It's awkward for me. Keith was busting my chops the other day, fishing for dirt."

"Is it causing problems with them?"

"No, just some teasing. They are curious though. He said that he and Bill wanted to put together a guy's poker game and have me tell stories about you."

Debbie looked alarmed.

"Yes, unnerving, isn't it: the thought of some guys talking about your sex life behind your back?" he asked, looking at her, not without some satisfaction. "Now you know how it feels."

"John," she said with trace of sadness, "I've always understood."

He sort of shrugged; she put her hands on his shoulders, looking at him.

"Look," she stared over his head for a moment, trying to find the right words, "if you were talking about the two of us to the guys, you'd be sitting there, comfortable with your buddies, judging what to say, gauging your own comfort level. Meanwhile, I'd be sitting here, wondering how they were seeing me, hoping you didn't say anything that would embarrass me. Right?"

He gave a noncommittal nod.

"If you wanted to do that, I'd have to figure out how big those feelings of insecurity were--minor things I could live with or major things that would cause me to say no--or if I had any boundaries I needed in place for it.

"If I can feel it, then I can also turn that feeling around, switch places. You'd respect my needs, right? So, I respect yours. Where's the problem? If this is something you have an issue with, end of story."

He looked frustrated. "But, I know that, somehow, this has become important to you...," he continued.

"It is NOT important to me," she interrupted. "YOU are important to me! This is just another bit of fantasy that I think I will enjoy...but that I can also live without!"

Paradoxically, this reassured him, made him more comfortable.

"In fact, just think about it that way," she continued, "as one of the fantasies. Just like any other fantasy, if it's not something you can do, it doesn't happen. Those have been our rules since the beginning."

He considered that. "I have some insecurities about how they'll see me, yes. I'm also worried about public perception, especially at work. I just don't want to be embarrassed."

"Okay." She sat down with him. "If you decide it's too much, just say so to me. If you decide you need boundaries, maybe you should say that to them?"

"Maybe."

"Who are you worried about? How about Claire, Mary and Anne?"

"Quite honestly, I never really had a big doubt about those three being discreet. Not only are they our friends, but I asked Bill and Keith pointblank. They said the girls refused to say anything. I took some ribbing on that, but it made me feel better." He shook his head. "Yeah, they blab amongst your group, but not outside."

She nodded. "Laura?"

"No, not after Monday. No, it's the other three, Deb."

"Okay."

* * Wednesday Night * *

"So, what are you going to tell us this time, Debbie? You told us about your first three, if you count the romantic date as one...let's hear number four." asked Anne.

"Actually, the last one wasn't number three; there were a couple between the second one and it. But, I'm not telling a story tonight..." She held up her hands at the immediate protests. "Listen to me!"

She and Laura exchanged a glance. They had talked earlier, Laura apologizing profusely. "There was a big misunderstanding between John and me about who I could tell what." So, she recounted the problem. There were glances at Laura, who apologized again.

"It's not Laura's fault! If she hadn't said something that let John know, the problem would still have been there, just hidden. It's my bad; don't you dare blame her!"

She looked around at the group. Laura's face was upset; Heather's held mostly disappointment; her closest friends looked concerned. She turned to her friend, "Anne, we started this partly to keep your mind off things and I know you want me to keep going, but..."

"I know," Anne said quietly. "You never said it explicitly, but I knew why you were doing it and I was grateful. Believe me. You're the best friends I can imagine. And, because you're my friends, I don't want anything bad to come of it. If you want to stop telling stories, then stop. Your marriage is more important."

"It's not about whether I want to tell stories. John needs to feel secure; that's the only criterion that matters. He'd like to stop by later."

"Of course he should talk to us and, if he's not comfortable, it ends," said Claire decisively. "There's no question of that. Tell him to come on over.

"Who wants to order pizza?"

...

"Not only do I not want to be a laughingstock in the community or at work because something got repeated...kinda goes without saying...but I don't want to have Bill or Keith, or one of you...some friend...look at me and say, 'Seriously, that was pretty fucked up what you did.'

"I don't want to turn around one day and find your eyes judging me."

Claire answered quietly and sincerely. "John, I guess I'll try to be the spokesman here.

"We've all been talking. On the first point, we're all agreed that nothing is ever repeated, not to spouses, not to anyone. You've known me, and some others, a lot of years and I think we've become good friends. I hope you'll take our word for it. The others, well...everyone has promised. Those of us you know believe them or they wouldn't be here, but you'll have to make up your own mind on them; we understand that.

"On the second issue, I'm really speaking for myself." She looked at him earnestly, "I've known you a lot of years. At the risk of giving you a swelled head, I'm pretty convinced that you're a great guy. More importantly, Debbie thinks you're the greatest guy on the planet and I think the absolute world of her. So, not only do I doubt that anything you two have done, or will do, is really going to totally freak me out...but, even if you do surprise me, it's not going to change the fact that I think both of you are good people."

Anne and Mary nodded in agreement. Maggie spoke up, "Just the fact that you two are spending so much energy on not hurting each other means you'd pretty much have to be chasing grade schoolers to get me thinking you're a creep."

* * Thursday Night * *

"Vi called me today."

Debbie looked at John in surprise.

"She convinced me about her."

Debbie wrinkled her brow in puzzlement, "What did she say?"

"It was private; hers to tell if she wants." Debbie's eyebrows rose at that, but she accepted it.

* * Friday Night * *

"Claire says Maggie will drop out for those nights if she's the problem. She doesn't want to, but she understands."

John looked at her. "Interesting."

* * Saturday Morning * *

John bumped into Anne again.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he laughed. "Debbie will begin to suspect."

She smiled.

"Anne, what's your take on Heather?"

"Will she keep her word, you mean?"

"Yes."

"Well, my take is that she thinks this is the greatest thing to ever happen to her and she won't do anything to louse it up." She leaned forward and gave John a kiss on the cheek. "Whatever you decide, you're still A-1 in my book."

* * Sunday Night * *

"Okay. I'd like to know which stories you're going to tell, just...well...to know.

"And, even if I forget to say something about a part I might have a problem with, please don't tell..." he stopped at the slight look of hurt on her face, "...never mind. I trust you, hon," and gave her a kiss.

* * Wednesday Night, a week * *

Debbie flopped into a chair, looking around at the expectant faces. John had headed out to meet some friends to let the girls have some room.

"We can do this."

A lot of smiles. Heather clapped her hands, "Hooray!"

"One thing beyond the obvious. I don't want to do this every week. I feel I need to talk over stories with him first, make sure he's okay with them."

"Of course!" said Claire, as if she couldn't imagine it any other way, which she couldn't.

"And doing it weekly is just too rushed."

"How about once a month?" Anne suggested. "We could have the monthly Scheherazade Night and the rest of the weeks could be just like before."

Everyone nodded, some perhaps a little reluctantly, but with good grace all around.

"But we start tonight?" Heather asked hopefully.

Everyone, including Debbie, laughed. "Okay, let me figure out where to start."

"What was the most romantic one you ever picked?" Mary suggested.

"Actually, the one that got to me the most in that way was one of John's," she said, absolutely astonishing her friends.

"Tell us that one, then."

"Umm, no. His are kind of off limits while he gets used to this." She saw a couple looks of puzzlement. "Put it this way: you're a guy, you participate in a fantasy...maybe it's sappy romantic or a bit kinky, doesn't matter. Question--which is more embarrassing: that you did it because you secretly wanted to do it, or that you did it to humor your wife who secretly wanted to do it?"

Faces cleared. "Got it," Anne said, "We cut the guy some slack. But, tell him we're all interested in this romance thing...I mean, who would have thought the Y chromosome could do that!" Everyone laughed again.

Claire spoke up, a wicked little grin on her face, "Okay, I'm still curious about the stuff from the Fuckerware party. That was one of yours."

Debbie's face lit up. "Last Saturday?"