Margaritas @ the Mall

Margaritas at the Mall

"I'll have another Mimosa," Sally said, and I noticed her eyes weren't as focused as they had been when lunch started. She'd been innocently flirting with the server - young, maybe 20, maybe just over half our ages - when we made our first orders, but now an hour later his newness had worn off, the food and the drink had taken hold and she was looking vaguely dissatisfied with everything. I sensed our own conversation wasn't holding her attention, either.

The server looked at me and I was struck that his only facial features seemed to be a crew cut and big doe eyes.

"You're having another," Sally said and I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement. She waved her black hair - short but still slightly messy in the restaurant's odd humidity - back out of her face, not making eye contact with me but searching the rest of the restaurant crowd for - what? - someone we knew and could invite over? Someone to make fun of? I sensed she didn't know what she was looking for, either. Just looking.

The server took her statement as my order, I guess, and spun on his heels and took off.

"What were we talking about," Sally asked, and this time it was definitely a question. "Did I mention Jackie is moving?"

I knew but hadn't brought it up.

"No," I said, trying to sound disinterested but surprised.

"Her divorce isn't final yet, but it will be soon," she said. "What a shitshow they were." I noticed the sun coming through the big window facing the Haskell Rivers Mall parking lot wasn't in her eyes yet, but it would be soon.

I nodded.

"She fucked around on him a lot, I heard," Sally went on. Sally heard a lot of things, definitely more than I did. She'd lived in our neighborhood, our gated community, almost since it opened close to 20 years ago, moving in as a newlywed, somehow affording a seven-figure house as their starter home. Aaron and I hadn't quite taken that same route, and though I'm sure Sally knew we were renting there and had been for the last 18 months, she never brought it up.

I realized I should say something, so I nodded and said I'd heard the same.

"That's too bad because he seems like a good guy," she said as the new mimosas appeared in front of us, not from our server but this time from a woman our age, moving quickly. I mouthed 'thank you' and she nodded but didn't speak before rushing off. As she sprinted off I wondered if she'd once cleaned our house.

"He was always nice at parties," Sally agreed. "And he was, he is, a dentist. She's going to really struggle to do as well next time around."

I nodded again and sipped the mimosa, which had way too much orange juice. Did the server tell the bartender to slow us down or is the restaurant just getting chintzy?

"Who knows, though," she said, her finger circling the super-small rim of the mimosa glass. "Maybe he was stepping out on her, too. It seems like that's all that ever happens anymore."

"You think?" I noticed that somewhere along the line all our food plates were gone and now we only had drinks and paper napkins. A sign on the wall reminded me it's Margaritamerrimentmonth, and it emphasized it with at least eight exclamation points.

"Fuck, yes. I know of at least four couples in the cul-de-sac that have had those problems. Remember that party a year ago where Cindy was caught in the spare bedroom with the Hughes' brother?'

I did remember that. We weren't at the party because Aaron was out of town on work, but I got texts. Tons of texts from Sally and three other girls at the party, sharing the play-by-play and topping each other with sarcastic remarks. Sally had the fewest misspellings.

Sally took a longer sip and looked to her side, over to the bar.

"I almost did once," she said.

I leaned up.

"You did?" This was news, and it wasn't like Sally to volunteer this type of into.

"Don't get too excited, Stace. Nothing happened." I wondered if I'd perked up more than I intended. Sally was the center of the social scene in Van Dyke Woods, and even though I was newer, a renter, and not the best in social situations, she'd for whatever reason taken me under her wing and brought me into all the circles.

I decided not to push, but to see if silence would give her some oxygen.

"It was before you got here. A couple of surgeons - husband and wife - lived in the neighborhood and he started sending me messages on social media."

"Ick." I heard it come out of my mouth.

"It wasn't dickpics or anything like that," she said. She still didn't look right at me and she didn't say anything else and I wondered if our lunch was wrapping up. That would send me back to our 4-year old, who Sally's pre-teen daughter was entertaining at the moment. Aaron was out of town on work, as he is most weekdays.

"Well, at least he wasn't sending those," I said.

"Have you gotten any?" She looked like she already knew I hadn't.

I paused.

"No," I said.

Sally cocked her head.

"What was the pause? You have?"

I shook my head.

"No. Really. One-hundred percent true. None. Other from Aaron of course."

We both laughed.

"Husbands," she said. "They love to send 'em."

I finished my drink. I wondered if lunch was over. Back to kiddieville.

"So what was the pause?" Sally asked, now looking directly at me. Some people said her green eyes were terrifying when she was mad, or being catty. I didn't fear her but definitely saw where they could be something to deal with if you got on the wrong side.

"No pause," I said.

"There was a pause. You got a dickpic."

It was silent. I kept shaking my head.

"Wait, no. You fucked around? Nah, I know that's not it."

She finished her drink too and started looking for the server.

Another pause.

"A near-miss?" She was quickly losing interest, and may have even been getting exasperated what she might have perceived as being coy.

I was always conscious of the fact that, while Sally was much more entrenched and popular than me in the neighborhood, I was probably considered to be more attractive than her. We were both late 30's and both brunette, but I was taller, tanner, had longer brunette hair that grabbed the sun in the summer and gave me the highlights that she and others had to pay for. While I'd been known in high school and college for having a great ass, my breasts showed up later than most but showed up really nicely. No implants, no plastic surgery anywhere. My looks probably were what kept Sally close to me and what kept some imperceptible wedge between us - we'd never had words, but I think Sally very much wanted to keep me at "project" level. She wanted me to be grateful to her for my entree into the inner-circle of VDW, but she never wanted me to get enough traction to be in there on my own.

But near misses? At parties, there would always be the moments, as some tipsy husband shot me eyes, or made some personal aside/confession in the moments we found ourselves in a one-on-one conversation. 'You always look so great at these events, Stacey.' 'That Aaron is one lucky guy.' 'I wish I'd met you in college, Stacey.' 'Wow, new dress?' 'You and Aaron working on having another kid? That must be fun.' 'I wish my wife looked like you in that dress.'

None of it a clear come-on, but I knew the thoughts behind every sentence. That's not me being conceited. It's something all of us go through, but unlike some of the girls in my circle it's not something I work to have happen, and it's not something I share in texts in a passive boast. All of us get these comments; I just choose to keep it to myself. The last thing I need is to tell enough of these stories that the other girls see me as some sort of threat, or some sort of gossip item like Jackie.

"We all have near-misses," I said, trying to wave it away. Maybe the check should get her soon after all. I'm not looking forward to ending my in-person interaction with adults for the day, but it might be a good move.

"How near was it?" Sally asked, now finally looking directly at me.

I don't have to tell this story, I remind myself. I sigh.

Sally leans up, sensing something good. With her right arm, she waves the server over, but keeps her eyes on me.

"It was nothing," I said. Now it's me avoiding her gaze.

"Tell me about the nothing," she says. "I'll be glad to hear about nothing."

The server is now at the table. He's holding the tab. I look at Sally, I look at him. I look at a poster of a family all sitting and eating steaks at a cleaner, brighter version of this same restaurant chain. No family has ever been more excited about food than this family. Sally looks like she's about eat one of those steaks, too.

"More mimosas," he asks, and suddenly he looks too young to be here. He's gone from a delightful diversion to being an alcohol deliver vessel.

"I'd rather have a margarita," I say.

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Last summer was hot. Really hot. I remember a bird hit our window full speed one afternoon, scaring our then-3-year old and then dying slowly in our driveway. I wondered at the time if the bird had done it on purpose, so tired of the sun's suffocating omnipresence.

Aaron was out of town, in Vegas. He'd called in the morning and would call again at bedtime. Between them it was me, our daughter and air-conditioning.

I decided to work on laundry all day. I took the first load in to the laundry room. It'd be a good day to do all my stuff, starting with my bras. Summer wasn't a great time for bras, so they definitely all needed to visit the washer then air dry.

I put on some TV talk show while I cleaned the kitchen and kept kiddo entertained when she'd wander in every 15 minutes. On the talk show they screamed at a guest over politics. I remembered when these shows used to be about the new movie or who the actress was dating, but now everyone wants to know what the sitcom star's opinion is on the Supreme Court.

My phone buzzed and I checked the text. It was from Jackie, inviting us over to swim.

Jackie was a shitshow, but she was fun. She and her husband actually had us over much more than any other couple did. We'd all grill out then the kids - they had four - would go play and we'd sit in the pool or the hot tub. Jackie definitely had some eyes for me. She'd hug me, cling to me in the pool. A couple of times late at night she kissed me in the pool, husbands watching (and approving) as she felt me up over my swimsuit and our tongues danced in each other's mouths just a few feet over the bright blue pool water. No biggie. Like I said, she was fun.

Sally licked salt off the rim and waited for me to resume the story. She definitely had her own party make out stories with the ladies of the neighborhood. In this culture, it's almost expected. "So you went over swimming?"

... I nodded. I got the first load of laundry out, put the bras up in the laundry room to dry, went and grabbed load two and loaded up the washing machine. I got the kid into a swimsuit and then put on one myself. I decided on a bikini since it would just be us and I could definitely always use more sun.

We drove the mile to their house. But the second we got there I regretted having a text convo instead of talking. Jackie was drunk. I mean blitzed. A look at the sun said it wasn't even noon yet.

"Stace," she slurred, hugging me. "We're gonna tear it up today."

"You've already torn a bunch, I think," I laughed as I extricated from the hug. She didn't respond, or she didn't hear me.

We laid out by the pool for maybe 30 minutes, but she couldn't get comfortable, or get content or get quiet.

"We should really turn this into a party," she said, her black sunglasses aimed at me. She picked up her phone and started texting.

"Let's get LeeAnn over here."

I didn't know LeeAnn. Never heard of LeeAnn. And soon I'd know why. She wasn't from the neighborhood, and seemed sober much like Jackie was drunk. She looked like maybe she'd once been a trainer, but had given up and started drinking for a living. I'm sure she was on her second or third marriage and I'm sure she was hanging on by her fingernails. Hanging on to a lot of things by her fingernails. Her blonde hair was definitely out of a bottle, and her fingernails had clearly been done at home. Compared to Jackie, who was tall with long jet black hair and the best body in the neighborhood, it wasn't even a contest.

The next 45 minutes were long. The kids had long gone inside to play. It was hot, and anyway I feel like Jackie's kids had an internal radar for when Mom was gonna be crazy. More drinks. Loud laughs. Stories about people I have never heard of. About 30 minutes in I realized no one had talked to me in all that time. LeeAnn got up and started massaging Jackie's shoulders as she sat in her lounge. She kissed the back of her head as I finished my sangria. As I watched from the safety of my sunglasses, her hand slid from Jackie's shoulders and down into her bikini top.

"What the fuck?" Sally was bolt upright. "I knew Jackie was doing shit, but that's just crazy. With the kids around, too?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking, Sally. It was fucking insane."

... Suddenly I felt very aware I was a third wheel as to whatever was going on poolside. I got up, leaving my empty glass next to my chair, the melting ice turning the purple sangria lighter by the second in the midday sun.

I went inside to find my daughter. Just as I hit the kitchen, Jackie's husband Chris opened the front door and walked in.

"Hi Stacey," he said. "Swinging by to grab some lunch."

I looked at him and wondered if he had any idea what was going on outside. Was this about to be world war three? Suddenly all of it just welled up - the lunacy outside, the prospect of spending more days alone after I stormed off from here. Jackie was one of my most important friendships in terms of doing things. Would she be furious if I leave? Would she even remember? Hell, would she even notice? When was I going to make friends I can actually spend time with?

"Why are you crying?" Chris asked.

Before I could control my eyes, they darted to the window to the backyard. Chris walked over and glanced outside. I felt my stomach tense as I waited to see what would happen next.

"Fucking LeaAnn," he sighed. At least he didn't blow up, which made me feel relieved but sad for him at the same time. I wondered if that was a complaint or a play-by-play. Either way I wasn't walking over to the window to find out. I felt the tears coming harder, and as I grew more embarrassed it seemed harder to slow them down.

Chris turned around. "I'm sorry, Stacey. She can... get this way sometimes."

He knew I knew. He'd watched as she and I had our midnight make out sessions. But we'd never done anything in the middle of the day, and it had never been this... messy. And it had never happened without our husband's present. And neither of us was... LeeAnn.

He glanced outside the window. "Oh, neat. Now they're vaping."

"I'm going home," I said quickly, glad I'd left my purse in the kitchen on my way in. I grabbed it and called for my daughter.

"She doesn't want to go," Chris said. He was right: I could hear her laughing upstairs. "Why don't you just come back and get her later tonight? I'll call the babysitter to come over and keep the kids inside. It's like 110 anyway; they aren't going out to the pool."

I thought about it. At least I can take a nap. She'll be fine if the babysitter is here. I nodded. Chris pulled out his phone and texted someone.

"The girl next door is always available. She'll be over in five," he said. "You okay?"

I was more embarrassed at my crying than I was sad anymore, but I was still really sad.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Just come back later and pick her up, ok?" He was using what I figured was his reassuring voice. How often did he have to use that with Jackie? In public? With friends? In their bedroom?

"I will," I said. I went upstairs and told my daughter I was going home for awhile. She was fine with that and melted back with the other kids almost instantly. I was glad at least one of us was having a good day. As I went to the front door, the preteen from next door was on the other side of it. She was all smiles and glad to know that our daughter was one of the kids at the house.

"She's always a ray of sunshine," she told me and I wondered if anyone ever described me that way.

I walked outside and the sun hit my face as I struggled to put my sunglasses back on. It was only when I was steps away from my car that I got them situated on my face and realized LeeAnn's car was parked directly behind mine.

"Fuck!" Sally said, snapping me back from the story and to our table. I sipped some salt and marg. "You had to go the fuck back in?"

I shook my head.

... I was standing there, considering my options, when Chris came out the front door.

"What," he asked.

"What?" I looked back at him.

"You just yelled 'fuck'," he said, his voice rising half an octave, either out of surprise or in poor imitation of me.

"Sorry," I sighed, pointing at LeeAnn's Camry.

He looked at it and at me as I brushed by him and back towards their front door.

"Where are you going? Don't get her," he said. "I'll take you home."

"You came home for lunch," I said.

"I've lost my appetite," he said. I looked at him with a doubtful scowl. "Seriously, I'll hit a drive-thru."

He opened the passenger door on his Lexus. "Get in."

I slid into the passenger seat, thankful or cloth seats that didn't burn my ass.

"Thanks," I said.

The ten-block drive didn't take much time at all. He fiddled with the satellite radio and had it on an 80's station as we pulled up into my driveway. He put the car in park and turned to me.

"You're sure you're okay?"

I nodded.

"I'm fine," I said. "I'll be fine."

"I can hang out for a few if you want," he said.

"That's okay," I said and opened the car door. As I got out I saw him reach for the bottled water in his cup holder, and I saw the steam inside the plastic.

"Don't drink that, it's bad for you. Cancer. The heat." I said, making vague arm motions that didn't probably explain. "I have ones inside."

I meant to go grab one and bring it back to him, but as I got a few steps up the driveway I heard a car door slam shut behind me and the sound of his footsteps behind me. Fine. He can grab it and go.

I paused and opened the side door, and motioned for him to walk in ahead of me. He did and stepped into our kitchen. I followed him in and closed the door behind me, locking it.

"Locking me in? Am I trapped," he grinned.

I laughed. "Automatic reflex," I said. "I'm a compulsive locker."

I slid by him in the tight entry way and opened up the fridge, bending over to grab a cold Dasani. I stood up and handed it to him. I had the feeling he'd checked me out while I was getting the water, but then it occurred to me why.

As I looked at his blue suit and white shirt with no tie, it suddenly occurred to me I was in a bikini, and had been for all of this. It wasn't weird poolside, it wasn't weird in their kitchen, but now in my kitchen it seemed awfully weird.

I glanced down at myself and motioned.

"I should probably..."

"... get changed?" He glanced down and took in what he saw. It wasn't pervy, and I can't honestly say I blamed him. I was, after all, standing with a man in a suit while wearing a bikini. At the same time, I had been going to say 'I should probably let you go' but now it was going to be awkward if I corrected him.

"Yeah, let me go...," I motioned to the bedroom. "I'll be right back."

I quickly glided towards the bedroom and closed the door behind me. I slid my bikini bottoms off and grabbed some shorts. I slid them on and reached back to undo my top, grabbing it and tossing it on the bathroom counter, where it slipped into my sink. I turned on the sink and splashed the water on my face, trying to stave off some of the sangria's effects. I drank quite a few during my morning from hell. I walked back into my closet to grab... a bra. But of course none of them were in there... they were all drying in the laundry room.

"Fuck. Again," said Sally.

"Right?" Timing is everything.

"This really is a near-miss," she said, signaling the waiter for two more margs.

... I walked back to the sink to grab my bikini top, which now had half a sink full of water on it. Of course. I briefly thought about putting it on under a t-shirt, but that was going to soak through and cause problems of its own. Jesus. So I went to the t-shirt drawer and picked out the thickest t-shirt I could find. One of my husband's, some band no one had ever heard of. I slipped it on, went back and checked my hair in the bathroom mirror and then headed back out.

"Well, at least you gave him a show," said Sally.

... I walked back out and Chris was sitting on our family room couch, just off the kitchen, drinking his water. I went and stood in the kitchen, maybe twenty feet away.

"Thanks for the ride," I started. "Sorry for all of this. You come to your drunk wife vaping with some..."

He laughed.

"... some... woman," I was motioning vaguely again. "And somehow your neighbor is the one crying and you're having to schlep around."

"That's just Jackie," he said. He looked out the window in back of the couch and at our backyard. "She has a great heart, but her life started out rough."

"How so?"

"She got married at like 16. That didn't work out, but she'd had some of the kids. We met shortly after her divorce, and I don't think she's comfortable living this life we have. She doesn't feel worthy."

"So sometimes she has to fuck it up?" I trailed his point. He nodded.

"She doesn't fuck it up too much. But she veers, she makes mistakes on purpose, I think. The girl stuff at parties doesn't bug me. It's kind of hot. You two were hot."

I rolled my eyes as he laughed. I know guys like those shows and I didn't mind giving Aaron one those nights. Jackie is a good kisser. I wouldn't let it go much more than that, but she is fucking hot. The air conditioning kicked on.

"I wish it would in here," Sally interrupted. "And Jackie is hot. A total slut, total bitch. But hot."

"She has to be," I said. "Otherwise no one would put up with it all."

"Or, everyone puts up with it because she is," Sally told me in her most teacherly voice. Both things can be true.

... so anyway the air conditioning kicked on, which kind of freaked me out because it was already freezing in the house. It's one-hundred plus outside and in here it's below 70. But Aaron controls it on some app and it's a whole deal to change it, so I spend me time freezing or baking all summer long.

"Guys love that shit," I said to Chris, trying to minimize the makeouts.

Chris said something but I couldn't hear him exactly over the AC and from the kitchen. Suddenly our distance seemed awkward.

He patted the couch next to him.

"You can sit down," he said. My goal had been to stay away from him and hope he wouldn't notice by lack of brassiere but that wasn't going to work in that close proximity. But what am I supposed to do? Yell out I'm not wearing a bra so I need to stay twenty feet away?

I slowly walked over and sat down at the opposite end of the couch. If he noticed he wasn't saying anything.

"I amsorry about today," Chris said, sipping his water, now about two-thirds empty. I glanced out back and saw a squirrel darting around the yard, changing directions every few seconds. Was she looking for shade?

"It's not your fault," I said. "It's mine. Jackie's allowed to do what she wants to do. I just thought it was nice to be invited over and to have someone to talk to. It gets old just talking to a 4-year old about Santa and the existence of monsters."

"Jackie takes full advantage of doing whatever she wants to do," said Chris. "She's a great girl and I love her, but she's... a lot."

"How often does she do this?" I was curious.

"Not weekly, but it's not that rare, either. She finds these skanks like LeeAnn. They aren't nearly as beautiful as her, and she knows they'll kiss up to her. Something I won't do. And something you don't do, either, which is why she invited her over."

"You think?" I wished I had a water, too.

"Oh, for sure. She knows you're beautiful and have things together," he said. "She wants to be you, Stacey."

"I don't know about that," I said. Was I fishing?

"You're amazing. You guys have a great marriage and she knows I'm tired of all the drama."

I could feel tears welling up again. It was nice hearing someone say nice things to me. Not that Aaron didn't, but he was gone too much to say them face to face very often. And he'd been saying them for 17 years. This was a new voice.

Chris saw me starting to cry and scooted closer on the couch, offering his shoulder. "Don't cry," he said.

I leaned closer and put my head on his shoulder, letting the tears come out. It occurred to me I was putting tears all over his work shirt and he'd need to be back dentisting pretty soon. He hugged me closer. I could smell the aftershave on his neck.

"So what did you and your daughter decide about monsters?"

I laughed and he started to laugh too. It was nice getting a moment to feel safe in the middle of a week - I usually had to wait until the weekends. I may have buried my face into his shoulder just a bit too deep.

His left hand touched my side as I snuggled on his right shoulder. I felt it over my shirt just over my hip. I didn't say anything but maybe I should have. I wondered if the squirrel had found shade yet. I wondered what LeeAnn and Jackie were doing poolside. I wondered what meeting Aaron was in.

Quickly, smoothly, Chris flicked his wrist and his hand was on my skin, under my shirt, on the side of my waist. It felt slightly cold, with some sweat from the water bottle still on his fingertips. I'd clearly given him the wrong idea. I was - I am - deeply in love with Aaron. Yes, he works out of town, but it's something we both thought would be good for his career and our lifestyle. This isn't a situation where he's ignoring me or did this without my agreement. We have a great marriage - I just have long weeks.

His hand stayed in positing on my side, just inches above my waist. I held still, hoping it would stay there. I counted to five, then to ten. I felt it slide, almost imperceptibly, up. He definitely had the wrong idea.

I started to pull back to look at him, tell him no, but as I arched my back to create a little space and look at him two things happened in quick succession: his lips touched mine and his hand slid - very expertly - up my side and cupped my right breast.

"Holy shit, Stacey!" Sally had set her drink down. Her eyes were complete circles.

... As his tongue entered my mouth, my brain started doing some quick calculus. I'd invited him into the house. I'd locked the door. I'd volunteered to go change. I came back not wearing a bra. I sat down on the couch next to him and I'd put my head on his shoulder.

Was I going to have to let this guy fuck me?

"Were you?" She asked it almost breathlessly.

... In college, or dating after college, the magic 8-ball would have said All Signs Point to Yes but this wasn't at all what I'd planned or expected. His tongue was in my mouth, flicking against the tip of mine. This wasn't okay behavior for a married woman.

In my mind, it was simple: I needed to just separate and politely apologize. I started to push away and he let me, but his hands grabbed both sides of my t-shirt and started lifting it over my head. My tits tumbled out the shirt cleared them. It almost seemed comical to imagine not lifting my arms and letting my shirt just sit on my shoulders wrapped around my neck. I decided to lift my arms up so as not to be impolite. Seriously.

He pulled it off me and set it carefully on the back of the couch. Aaron would have just tossed it on the floor. Not that I would have cared. But folding it and placing it on the couch just seemed so... nice. So... careful. So... confident.

Still, I was going to say no. The topless girl on the couch with the dentist was going to say no. I was thinking it as his lips touched my left cheek, the nape of my neck, and as they kissed their way down to my left breast. He kissed completely around my areola, then lightly sucked my nipple between his lips. Fuck. My head spasmed back as his other hand returned to my right tit. As my head moved back, I'm guessing he felt my weight shit away and assumed I was pulling him on top of me, so his weight pressed onto me and he did land on me as I reclined back on the couch. He sucked one nipple, then the other, then he licked both of them, maybe for a full minute each. I remembered how as a kid in my grandmother's house I could keep track of seconds my listening to the clocks in the house tick, but now I was only guessing.

He kissed back up to my mouth and our tongues were in each other again, as both of his hands squeezed and caressed my chest. He brought the sides of his hands up under each breast and kept them there.

At this point I still felt like we were in some high school backseat. We had gone too far, but not too far, right?

"I don't know, Stace." Sally was shaking her head. "That's pretty far."

... I caressed the back of his head and he sat up.

"Are you okay with this?" He looked at me and I could tell I was at risk of making him feel very guilty.

"I am, but this might not be a good idea," I said. "On our family room couch?"

He stood up and held his hand out to me. I took it and stood up. I considered covering myself with one of my arms, but he's already seen and kissed and sucked and flicked and licked them, so what was the point? I almost grabbed my shirt. Should have grabbed my shirt. But the primary goal was to walk him to the door and that would just delay things. Plus I'd have to reach back around him and that could send mixed messages too.

Still, I needed to give this some closure. I hugged him, probably getting some of the saliva on my chest on his shirt. I took his hand and started to lead him towards the kitchen door, the door he came in. The door where he was going to leave.

He let go of my hand and put both hands on my shoulders, freezing me in place. I wondered if he was going to rub my shoulders, tell me he was sorry. Something reassuring. Instead he let go of my shoulders. Hegrabbed my shorts, starting to pull them down my thighs.

"Chris," I said over my shoulder.

"No panties," he said as my butt came into his view. I wasn't sure if he was saying it as an observation or as a point of evidence.

I froze. He was right again. I didn't put them on because I thought I was sending him off, and I thought I had a bra to put on, and I thought I wasn't this lonely or this...

"... horny?" Sally interrupted.

"Not exactly," I said. "But it's hard to be a long-distance wife. And it's hard to have no adults to talk to day after day. And it's nice to have eyes - new eyes... on you."

"I get that, but..." she trailed off. She wasn't approving for sure, but she wasn't exactly disapproving. She was definitely not going to derail the story with a sermon, though.

... As I looked at the door I was leading him to, with my shorts at my ankles it suddenly looked so very far away as I felt his hands on my shoulders, and then his lips on the back of my neck, and then on the top of my spine. Then down each vertebra, then on my left buttock, then my right. I must have sighed, and he must have taken that as resignation. Which I guess it was.

In a quick second, he swept me up into his arms and started walking towards the master bedroom. My shorts briefly dangled off my right foot for a step or two before I dipped my foot and saw them hit the hardwood floor at the cusp of my kitchen. Aaron & my kitchen. Our family's kitchen. I knew they'd still be there later, but no one was going back for them now. There wasn't going to be any going back.

He rounded the corner into our master bedroom. If we didn't have a master on the main maybe this doesn't happen; it's amazing what you don't consider when touring rentals. He tossed me onto the bed, which surprised me because I was expecting to be gently placed on it, but it kind of worked for me, too. He unbuttoned his shirt and I knelt on the bed, walking with my knees over to him and placing my lips on his chest, finishing the unbuttoning for him. I heard the light sound of cloth hitting carpet behind him. He stepped out of his shoes, too.

I pulled back and unbuckled his belt and he slid his pants down and stepped out of them.

"Some of us wear underwear," he said as I looked at his blue boxer briefs, then pulled them down to expose his erection. I slid my mouth onto it, immediately regretting that I didn't do a better job of teasing him and his cock the way he teased my titties.

I took him fully into my mouth and wiggled my tongue on the underside of his cock until I heard his breathing change. I would have continued it - it occurred to me if I sucked him off at least I wouldn't have done everything - but he suddenly pushed me back and onto the bed. It reminded me of back being in college and fucking 40-year old men who knew how to take charge.

"You did that, too," Sally seemed excited to hear me say that.

"I did," I said. "I felt like a lot of us did, we just didn't talk about it."

"Of course," she agreed. "You're in college and you get to be a junior or senior and the boys in school don't seem so impressive any more. So you meet men - men with jobs - at work or your internship...", she trailed off when she saw me nodding.

"It's the first time someone cares if you come, too."

It's true. I wasn't a wild woman in college or anything, but my junior year I met a guy - me 21, him in his 40's - and while the relationship wasn't that fulfilling, the sex was absolutely amazing. I spent the next year and a half dating college boys, but discreetly spending time with men twice my age. They made sure I came. They made me feel special and not like a conquest. I felt so naked in front of them. Then I met Aaron, closer to my age, and I cut all the rest of it off and it's been him and I all the way since.

And don't get me wrong, Aaron was respectful and a great lover, but I hadn't had this particular button pushed in ages.

... So he'd pushed me back on the bed. I reflexively spread myself for him and he fell on top of me and slid into me quite easily: I was very wet.

"Was he big?" Sally was almost done with her send Margarita. Between that and the Mimosa's we'd be Ubering home.

... He was big, but not porn big. Bigger than Aaron. Maybe bigger than anyone I'd slept with. And he was in me, and taking his time sliding in and out. I had my eyes closed, I guess in some part so I wouldn't have to acknowledge my role in this, but when he bit into my neck I opened them up and saw the ceiling I normally looked at when Aaron was on top of me, pushing towards the goal line.

Chris started thrusting slightly faster, but only incrementally. Mostly he seemed to be intent on driving as deeply into me as he could. I spread my legs as much as I humanly could. He pushed in as far as he could, and we both just froze there...

... and then suddenly he pulled out. He looked me in the eyes and I tried to figure out what was happening next. He pushed back up from me, and I started to close my legs somewhat but he placed his hand on one of my knees.

"Don't move them," he said, and he sat up to take me in.

"Jesus," Sally whispered.

... He looked me up and down, my legs spread wide. I wanted to say something - part of me wanted to close them - but I just let his eyes tour me. People talk about feeling seen. This was what they must mean. I don't think anyone had ever put their gaze on me like this before. It lasted maybe 30 seconds, maybe two minutes... my ability to keep time was completely gone. Finally, mercifully in some ways, Chris put his face between my legs. First he just hovered, then he put his nose on my inner thigh and slid it down close to my vagina. I felt air rush against my skin as he inhaled, then waited for precious seconds before he pushed his face into me. I felt his tongue slide around and onto my clit, and he flicked it quickly in rhythm until I started to melt, small moans coming out of my mouth. He alternated his tongue up and down, sliding lower on my, then sliding more slowly back up to the clit. This went on for maybe five or six rotations, before he finally landed for good onto it, tongue spinning clockwise. I came hard and pushed him into myself with both hands as my thighs smashed against his ears.

As I was still catching my breath, waiting for the room to center itself again, he got up - he stood up - and stood at the edge of the bed, then he grabbed my legs and slid me towards him quickly - so quickly my ass felt a little big of a rug-burn tingle. He took my legs and pulled them up atop his shoulders - his very strong shoulders. And he shoved himself in. He shoved himself into my ass.

Sally just stared, a napkin in her hand quietly shredding.

... I was definitely wet enough down there for this, but it had been a long, long time since I'd done this. I started to writhe a little and push away, but he expertly grabbed my hips and guided himself in, holding still as he was sure he'd made it all the way.

I looked into his eyes as he started moving ever so slowly. It was so quiet in the room - no tv, no radio, just the sounds we were making. I worked on relaxing - those sangrias helped for sure, thanks Jackie - and letting him do what he had to do. I tried not to think about my marriage, my family. I tried to just focus in this moment. One moment in time I could not be in my own mind.

As he felt me relax and gained a rhythm, he was able to let go of my hips. His hands found my breasts again. He squeezed them, he took my nipples in his fingertips. I turned my head to the left and looked at my own armpit, glad I'd shaved it and regretting I hadn't shaved down there this morning. I tried to remember the last time Aaron and I had done this. Really, anything like this, with this kind of passion.

"It happens. We build these relationships, but somehow in making the bond, they stop throwing us around the room." The margaritas were making Sally more philosophical, but I think she's right. It's hard to be both things. I nodded.

"So, Chris had his dick up your ass, and...", Sally pressed on.

... He gained steam and developed a good pace, and I worked on holding still and clenching when I could to make him happier. Letting him thrust in, then clenching around him during his brief pause, then loosing around him as he slid back out. Like riding a bike, I thought to myself, happy I still had the skills.

As he got close he said "look at me, Stacey" and I did. He worked hard to keep his eyes open as he came, and I felt like I could see him so clearly as he did. His eyes turned almost watery as he emptied himself inside me, and deep down I had this sad feeling that time was going to start moving again.

I finished and Sally just kind of sat there for a moment. She looked over my shoulder, then back at me.

"Jesus Christ, Stacey! That wasn't a near-miss. That was a direct hit! Does Aaron know?"

I shook my head.

"Of course not. And it never happened again. He left a few minutes later with a hug and a kiss on my shoulder and then on my forehead."

"And that was it?"

"Later that night he texted (Sally knows everyone has everyone's text - and he said he hoped I didn't regret anything, and he wouldn't ever hit me up again."

"What did you say?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I said I didn't regret it but it was definitely a one-time thing."

"And that was it," Sally was looking to put a bow on things.

"He did text one more thing back."

"His schedule?"

"No, Sally, I told you it wasn't like that. Nothing has happened since. Not going to."

Sally nodded and set down the ripped up napkin. She signaled the waiter for the check with the fake signature hand sign.

She didn't bother looking back at me as she asked what the final text was.

I pulled out my phone and went to my photo gallery, opened up the hidden photo area to find the screen shot and faced it to her. I already knew what it said by heart.

Chris: I understand. Like I said I won't ever reach out. My only regret is this: I sure wish I'd stuck my tongue up your ass. Feeling those cheeks on my face would have been heaven. But, hey, we'll always have the memory.

Sally read it once, then took the phone out of my hand and cradled it to read it again. She sighed and handed it back to me. I waited to hear her final pronouncement.

"First off, I can't believe that happened but I'm so glad you told me, Stacey. I know you know I won't tell anyone."

"I know," I said, and somehow I knew she was telling the truth. I knew plenty of Sally secrets. None at this level, but enough that we could definitely ensure mutual destruction within the social circle. Besides, telling her - just telling someone - somehow finally made it real.

"No side effects at all? No ennui? No guilt?" She sounded a little like a therapist and a little like someone kicking the tires.

I thought about it. Yes, I had some guilt, but just in terms of Aaron. I really didn't feel anything about Jackie, and I don't feel seduced by Chris. It just kind of happened.

"No real guilt, but I would if it had ever happened again," I allowed. "As for side effects, it probably got Aaron laid a lot more in the months afterwards. Both in terms of my general horniness and burning off the guilt, I guess."

"Well, good for Aaron," Sally said as she signed the check. Normally, I'd offer to split but since I'd provided the floor show today, I decided to let her use her card.

"Yeah, good for Aaron," I said. "Heck, I even had him start eating out my ass!"

Sally looked up and we both started giggling, then laughing loudly. I looked around to see if people were looking, but they weren't. We grabbed our purses and stood up.

"So who are you thinking of when he does?" Sally asked when she finally caught her breath. At first I thought maybe she was joking, but then I realized it was a real question.

The sun flew through the window as a cloud moved away, and suddenly my back felt warm. I looked at the table, at the empty margarita glasses, and heard our waiter ask the table next to us if he could take their order. In my peripheral vision I could see Sally waiting for an answer, and I guess I was waiting for one, too.