Call me... when you're ready we can share....

I called Rick today. I misread an e-mail from him and managed to drop a date I needed to keep in mind. As my penance, I picked up the phone at lunch and called him. He answered. We talked: he about his problems, me about mine. We each think the other has it harder. Part of the awkward story of our friendship, I suppose.

To improve his mood, as the phone call was not as uplifting as I intended it to be, I searched cyberia for pictures to warm the cockles of his cock. I managed to find two--one a body double of me as far as breasts go. The second was a left-of-center breast in a shower. I wrote him a story about taking a shower once, so I thought it would be appropriate. (One day I might reprint it here... perhaps.)

He has not replied regarding the pictures yet. I'm torn between impatience and understanding. I am certain enough that he is out of the office, dealing with the accursed new building on the property. But if he is at his desk, it being after 5:00pm, he should send me a thank you. Whether he takes me up on my offer to do more (within reason being understood, I hope) is something else I'm waiting to hear.

But now I'm going to go write something distracting about Blond or Brunette. That should be done and ready for you by November, perhaps even sooner. Provided I put myself to work now....

tangled mortal webs

It was a weekend of new union, reunion, friendships and fools. Blond hosted Nicker as a guest at Blond's Abode. The natural outcome of the uncommon friendship we all have betwixt us. Rick was a taboo topic of discussion, which meant he was only discussed in drunken moments--a monologue of sorts from Nicker as Blond and her new boy-of-hope smiled and sighed in reminiscence of distant youth.

I, several hundred miles away, spent my own time reflecting at a reunion. Nineteen years past that we were merely freshmen--we've gained weight, lost hair, kept who we chose half a life ago. I still wonder how we manage our choice. I ponder the possibility that we've all had moments (minutes, months) of misgivings--marriage does that sometimes. It felt almost awkward being without my husband, but completely fitting: while I chose him in college, he did not attend my college. Referring to him in absentia while my former roommate stood at my side.... Had we not been telling tales of our children, had our clothes been more college casual--would the passage of time been noticed?

One of my bass players--I seem to find them like pennies in a parking lot--was present with his then-girlfriend/now-wife. While he was off talking to his old roommate, she gave us news about another friend who happens to be an ex-boyfriend of hers. And we laughed about how jealous her bass player husband acted during the visit from the ex. As I laughed with them, I wondered if she knew about me and her bass player--my "illicit affair" freshman year, the traditional succumbing to spring.

Back then, I was dating a nice enough (jealous, possessive, insecure, foolish) boy who was a senior in high school. But the high school boy wasn't a bass player with blond hair and blue eyes--ever my weakness. I could overlook a lack of height with those other three traits. Despite the "Night Moves" nature of the "spring fling" relationship, the bass player and I became friends. We have enough in common for that--dating would have been a disaster. This is not to say that bass player was an incompetent kisser--he was competent enough for my standards at the time. But we are both headstrong and creative and enough insecure that someone would have gotten defensive and gone on the offensive in search of a security blanket of one sort or another. In all likelihood, it would have been booze for him and a new boy for me--bad combinations, based on what his wife said. Much better that things turned out as they have.

But still, I wonder if she knows. I wonder if my husband knows. I must have mentioned it. I certainly spoke of it in passing just the other month. Perhaps he forgot--quite probably he doesn't care. It predated our dating, after all. Besides, this guy would be just another bass player with blond hair and blue eyes--a trend that has become a joke.

Perhaps I should mention it to Rick--for two reasons. The second being that he has a ...trend... as well--the bakefiend lawyer isn't the first girl named "K_" that Rick has dated. When I told my former roommate about Rick's new girlfriend, her reply was, "Not another fucking "K_." I laughed--Rick had once told me about his trend and its status of joke amongst his oldest friends. My former roommate is the one who first introduced Rick to our clan of college compatriots about five years ago. She'd known Rick for over ten years at that point--his "K_" trend was well established by then.

The first reason is a reflection on Rick--a reason he knows full well. Blond had a good laugh about it when I first noticed Rick as an object of lust. She laughed so hard, she had to tell him what the joke was. Eventually, he mentioned it to me. You see, Rick is just another guy with blond hair and blue eyes who played a bass guitar....

and in losing....

Rick has a girlfriend. It is serious. Hopefully not serious in a controlling way, but serious in a joyful way. The girlfriend is a bakefiend and freshly minted lawyer--I enjoyed her company when I met her this summer, before she became the girlfriend.

The test regarding control will come soon. My last grandmother passed away this week. While that seems non sequitor, it is not. Rick and I founded our friendship on something I dub "Maudlin Friday." We drink, we discuss topics of sadness and loss, we snuggle, and we sleep--in separate spaces. It is a party of two, by two, for two--no other parties need apply. It is as close to a therapist's office as he or I will go....

I do not know how soon I will make it down for a Maudlin Friday, but the need is there. The other thing I do not know is how Bakefiend Lawyer will take my request to have him all to myself. The request will be issued via Rick, naturally. Push comes to shove, she will win.

The question: will she consider my request an attempt to shove her out and keep part of him all to myself? She is no fool: I would never try to keep a secret from her. But this is a question of boundaries--it will be interesting to see where the lines are drawn. Especially the lines drawn by Rick....

The Tidal Line

My husband initiated a discussion on adultery last night. Discussion—not lecture—being the key. The night before my two closest female friends visited for hot tub based conversation and mass alcohol consumption. Being drunk, giddy and topless, things ran amuck very quickly. A blond, brunette and redhead—drunk and topless in a hot tub—horny and enjoying a level of comfort that only comes from a fifteen year friendship. I would not say it is every man’s fantasy—most men prefer more action, attention and access to crotch kittens. But as far as opening scenes go, he had a terrific trio to smile and watch.

My husband was not there the whole time—he has self-preservation skills. Blond needed to talk about Rick—in that “he broke my heart and now I must talk smack about him to make him less special to me” sort of way. It was an interesting bit of enlightenment. Some of the things he did with Blond—specifically after the breakup—surprised me initially. Upon reflection, it made perfect sense. Rick is a fellow survivor of Roman Catholic Education—paying penance is an ingrained part of us. Perfect penance involves both pain and repayment of debt--what they did could qualify. Pleasure is as much a trick of the mind as the sensation of the flesh….

We drank far too much, and by “we” I mean Blond & Brunette. I drank merely "too much" and had to keep my eyes open during intercourse with my husband. Lest you think I can’t stand the sight of the man, I can. But there are times when a woman wants to close her eyes and revel in the sensations of the flesh. (Spinning on multiple axes is not a sensation I tend to revel in while my mind is partially pickled.) And after the tantalizing, titillating talk I gave him, he was very interested in gratifying me. He was already aroused after the nipple nuzzling I did in the hot tub—vivid descriptions of what I might do with Blond under his watching eyes sent him skyrocketing. It was hot, sweaty, screamy sex, and when it was done my head was still spinning--sleep was a poor choice. So I left to talk to Brunette and Blond.

I found Brunette first. Her head was also spinning—not surprising when I discovered the empty 350 ml bottle of green stuff. While I had helped her with her consumption efforts, I did not put my liver on the line. There are limits—I try to adhere to them as best I can. Laughter, love, conversation in excellent company are sufficiently intoxicating: typically I stop before I get to a state of head-spinning. Brunette and I sat on my kitchen floor and ate toast and talked. Her place on my sofa gave was sufficient for her to hear at least some of what went on in my room, and we discussed my newfound privileges. Girl on girl gratification was a go. We were a bit surprised by my husband, but… I’m sure his surprise about us was equal. Blond, Brunette and Red are frighteningly heterosexual—playing with each others nipples and talking of nuzzling nether regions is slightly out of character. What can I say: It’s been that sort of year.

After our talk, I went downstairs to check on Blond. Previous events of the evening and a champagne-swilling weekend with Rick already behind us, I was curious about what might happen. My curiosity was fulfilled—confirming some suspicions I had about our friendship and the level of love we have for each other. Blond is Rick’s former live-in—despite my feelings for Rick and her feelings for Rick, she and I remain secure in each other—mutual trust. A trust that was tried by my secret keeping at Rick’s behest, but… she accepts the actions and my apology.

Which is why she and I did what we did in the small hours of Sunday morning. That and the presumption that I had permission to play from my husband. Presumption was proved by his post-coital question last night—“now that we’re sober: how serious were you about Blond?” Said in such a way that a potential for betrayal to be seen in my actions. It was a nervous moment—exhausted from sleep deprivation and recent coital activity, I paused before responding with a deeper snuggle into his arms and thought before replying. I answered the question without confessing what I’d done in the wee hours of the morning.

My answer prompted the revelation of two questions that had been plaguing him all day: “did I miss my chance to see hot girl-on-girl action?” and “What is adultery, anyway?” This made way for a conversation I had been longing to have with him on a topic I feared broaching. For I had been afraid to have an openhearted discussion with my husband since January.

In January, my husband said something to me that caused me to question my entire knowledge of him as well as our marriage. Six hours later, I found myself enjoying an embrace, comfortable in the warmth of trust and mutual affection with Rick. Proof that God has a sense of humor that is ironic at best….

“What is adultery?” he asked. The land of safe is easy to see—the deep sea of sin is also obvious. The tricky part is knowing your way down the beach. I’ve been stumbling for several months now—one would think I could provide an answer. The answer du jour being: it is like the tide—it varies from relationship to relationship, from instance to instance, based on the people involved, the timing, the trusts, the sense of insecurity. Going behind someone’s back is a dangerous place—sometimes the dangerous places need to be traversed.

I told my husband some of what I’d done with Rick—the hugs, the kisses, the entwined embraces. The hugs were of no issue. The kisses were downplayed by me and further reduced to “a kiss now and then” by my husband. The entwined embraces qualified as hugs—so long as everyone keeps clothed. I am not fool enough to think our discussion has been resolved. There are more issues to be revealed and discussed, when the tide is right….