you mind if I have a cigarette before we....?"
"No, of course not," he paused, "Don’t you usually do that after?"
"Before, after, during, I never stop."
This felt wrong. It often did, but it kept him happy, she supposed. Here she was sat in a room with Stef, one of her husband’s oldest friends, wearing only the lingerie she had retained in the game of strip poker they had used to, "break the ice." He stood there looking completely unsexy in the nude, all his flabby bits showing his age. To make it worse, they could clearly hear her husband having sex with his wife in the next room.
She took her time lighting her cigarette, she was in no hurry to go through with this. But she had to, didn’t she? They had agreed, it was all supposed to be such fun, they were a liberated couple.
God, she never screamed like Steff’s wife, she be embarrassed if she thought the neighbors could hear her. She was glad they weren’t at home. She’d hate it if the neighbors heard that. Her husband sounded like he was having a fine time.
Stef was also feeling embarrassed. He’d never really thought about Mary in that way before, not beyond the way he thought of practically every women he’d ever met in that way, anyway. She was just John’s wife. He was worried about what was going to happen afterwards, would it affect his relationship with Mary, with John. He’d never done anything like this before. He and Jane had been faithful to each other for twelve years now, he wasn’t sure why he had agreed to it. He supposed it had just seemed less embarrassing at the time then acting the prude would have.
The one thing he knew, though, was that now he had heard his wife sleeping with John, he would have to have sex with Mary. If he didn’t he knew he’d never be able to forgive her, she’s have been unfaithful, she’d have had sex with another, while he hadn’t. He knew that was stupid, but he couldn’t help feeling like that, he was a man. He couldn’t bear the thought of his wife getting some while he wasn’t.
This all felt very silly.
"So, you and John do this a lot, then?"
Mary shrugged, "A bit, yeah. Not normally with people we know, though."
"John did say. I never really believed him, though. Thought he was just bragging. You know, wife swapping in suburbia, the stuff that porn mags are made of."
Mary shuddered. She hated that expression, wife swapping, like she was some kind of commodity, like the cards that little boys swapped at school. She preferred to say they were swingers. It was old fashioned, an expression from the 70’s, but at least it didn’t imply this was all about the man’s pleasure. She got something out of it too.
Stef noticed her reaction. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to...."
She held up her hand, silencing him with the wave of a cigarette.
"That’s OK," she said. "Just semantics, I shouldn't let it get me down."
"Are you OK? I mean, we don’t have to...."
He didn’t know what he wanted her to say at this minute. He didn’t really want to sleep with her, which was something he found hard to admit to himself. He never thought he’d be in a position where he didn’t want to sleep with a woman, any woman. Sure he liked to pride himself on the fact he’d never cheat on his wife, and up to now, he hadn’t, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about it, or fancy other women. But if they hadn’t had that wine, if Jane hadn’t seemed so keen...
He just didn’t want to be the one to say no.
It had been a long time since he had slept with anyone else. He loved his wife, he felt comfortable with her, they knew what each other liked, and they could just cuddle. It was real. It was theirs. And he never had to worry about his performance. If he’d had too much to drink, or he couldn’t manage it, if he was too tired, or came too quick. None of it mattered, because Jane knew it was a rarity, and the next time would be fine.
For the first time in twelve years (well, nine or ten, it takes a while to get comfortable) Stef knew he had to perform, and he was nervous as hell. How could he look his best friend in the eye if he couldn’t get it up for the guy’s wife, or if the excitement overcame him, or if he overcame her... That wasn’t too bad a thought, actually. He was beginning to feel a stirring.
This did not go unnoticed by Mary. It was only the beginnings, the last chicken in the shop beginning to unfurl its head, move a little, unaided. She took a shallow drag on her cigarette, she wanted it to last.
Jane was reaching the heights of ecstasy now. Mary wondered if how she could look her neighbors in the eye, Stef wondered why she never made that much noise with him. Maybe, like him, she was trying to perform.
Mary knew what John would be thinking now. He would be listening out for them, making sure she was doing her bit. He would be worrying that she had turned his best friend down, not gone through with it. He knew she wasn’t happy about going with their friends. It was too complicated. But he fancied Jane, had done for years. They always got on.
She hoped their lack of activity had put them off their stroke.
"Mary, you know I’ve always..."
"No," she snapped. "Please don’t say it. You and I both know it isn’t true. We’ve always just been friends."
She was right, of course. He just felt he should say something, to make it seem a little less sordid... less cheap.
Mary wanted to tell him the truth, that it was John and Jane who had always had the hots for each other. Women don’t usually agree to this kind of thing with such readiness. Mary hadn’t. It had taken John months of needling her about their old Sixties ideals to get anywhere. She suspected the pair had concocted tonight between them. A way of having an affair with their spouses consent.
She knew John would want to do this again, and she knew refusal would lead to the break up of both their marriages. She was in the unenviable position of having to sleep with a man she didn’t particularly like, and who didn’t much care for her, in order to save both their marriages.
After tonight they would have to do it again and again.
Best find out what the future held.
She put out her cigarette. They had stopped next door now, were probably basking in the afterglow of what they would pretend was only sex, a pretence that could only be maintained if she slept with Stef.
"Let’s just do what we came here to do."
A look of fear flashed across Stef’s face.
She patted the bed next to her in what she hoped was a seductive manner.
"Come over, I don’t bite. Unless you want me to."
"Er, no.... The Biting I mean."
She smiled. He almost seemed Cute when he was nervous. The way his forehead crinkled right up to his receding hairline. Almost.
Who was she kidding? Her eyes would be closed from the second they kissed, and she wasn’t opening them again until he came. She wasn’t expecting to.
He shuffled over and sat next to her. He didn't feel quite so vulnerable about being naked, now they were in close proximity, it felt more natural. He looked at her briefly, before she turned away. She was pretty for her age, her lines adding character, emphasizing her bone structure. She must have been very beautiful when she was younger.
He couldn’t remember, she had always just been John’s wife.
She turned back and they kissed. It was awkward at first, both resisting, neither showing any real passion. His hands began to fumble with the catch on her red bra, something they were extremely out of practice at doing. Jane always came to bed naked.
Mary only had so much patience and pushed him away so she could remove the offending lingerie, throwing in her knickers for good measure. She was kinda happy to see his erection growing at the sight of her undressing. At least it made her feel attractive, even if it didn’t make him any better a prospect.
They kissed again.
It was cold, unnatural. He wasn’t used to the taste of tobacco in his mouth, she never liked the feel of a bristly moustache against her lips. Her hands were pumping quickly, hoping to get him overexcited, so it wouldn’t last for long. His hands were gentle against her clitoris, as though he was scared of hurting her.
She pulled him onto the bed in the pretence of passion, bucking as he entered her, using her muscles to create as much friction as possible, moaning, just enough to ensure her husband could hear her in the other room, making sure she hadn’t disappointed him.
It seemed to last for hours, each stroke more uncomfortable then the last, Stef trying to make it last lest she tell his best friend he was crap in the sack, her trying to get it over with. Neither of them could look the other in the eye, concentrating instead on the strange body they were glued at the hip to.
And then it was over, his warm fluid spurting into her.
She waited as long as she could hold out before getting up for a shower.
Neither of them spoke, even when she returned and climbed back into bed with him. They didn’t cuddle, didn’t touch, just turned over and pretended to sleep. Pretended they couldn’t hear their spouses laughing in the other room as they had heard them laughing a thousand times before.
[END]
© James McConnon 2001
