It didn’t occur to me, and, I don’t think, to Anne, the risk we were taking just by being here.
We were parked in front of a house that was settled in one of the richer neighborhoods that surrounded downtown Toronto. It was a late night and, usually, Anne and I would be at home, sleeping.
“We’ve already come all this way,” she said, but then she sucked in her lower lip, and I knew that she was nervous. I also knew that there was nothing I could say to dissuade her from entering the house. No one could stop her from something she had set her mind on. Still, I had to try.
“We can just go home now. Pretend this didn’t happen.”
“You don’t want to do this anymore.”
“I don’t,” I said. She considered this and the hesitation I had sensed in her earlier seemed to blossom. She was chewing on her lower lip now, and she could not quite look at me, though her attention was in my general direction.
“This was your idea,” she said, which was only half-true. More accurately, it had been Sheila’s idea, and I had simply agreed with her. I decided not to bring this up, however. It had been my idea to see a marriage counselor, not Anne’s, and she had never entirely warmed to Sheila, even though we had been seeing her for over a month.
I still remember how I had felt when Sheila recommended that Anne and I see other people. I remember how angry I was. On the one hand, I was angry at Sheila for ignoring her mission to mend my marriage; on the other hand, I was angry at myself because I thought Sheila was trying to explain to us that our marriage was beyond fixing. But then she told us that she was not recommending divorce.
“Have you heard of swinging?” Sheila asked. We told her that we hadn’t, and so she explained it to us.
For one reason or another, I wanted to give it a try. Monogamy was not natural, I was growing to believe, and having sex with one woman for the past twenty years was debilitating.
Now, however, sitting outside the house where someone was hosting a party for swingers, I was getting cold feet. It was only now that I realized that I wouldn’t be the only one getting a new sexual partner this night.
Anne was still looking at me in that way she had of turning in my general direction without making eye contact. “If we turn back now, then we will return to how our marriage was before. I don’t want that.” Then, for the first time since we had parked outside of the house, her eyes met mine. There was a smirk at the corner of her lips, betraying a confidence that I don’t think she really felt. “Besides,” she said, “don’t you want to see me suck another man’s dick?”
I didn’t say anything, but perhaps it was the absence of any dissent on my part that made Anne reach over the gear shift and kiss the corner of my mouth. I turned off the car and we walked up to the house.
When we approached the front steps of the house, I could hear dance music being played on the other side. I didn’t think that anyone would hear the doorbell ring, but someone did. The man who opened the door was a bit shorter than me and balding. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t attractive, either. At first, he didn’t seem to recognize us, but then some sort of recollection must have dawned on him because his mouth broke into a comical grin.
“My friends! I was beginning to think you were not going to show up!”
“Sorry for being so late, Anthony,” Anne said.
The man shook his head to show that our tardiness was not a problem. He ushered us inside and closed the door behind us.
The house was larger than I had expected. And it had already looked large from the outside. A lot of the furniture had been moved to the walls to make room for people to meander throughout the house.
“You look very attractive, Mrs. Timal,” Anthony said to my wife. Which was true. She was in her mid-to-late thirties but hadn’t begun to age in the places where people found most attractive. Her boobs didn’t sag and there were no wrinkles around her mouth. We weren’t sure about the dress code, so Anne had opted for a black skirt and a sleeveless shirt. It was an outfit she could have worn to a party or to work, and no one would have found it odd.
I tried to ignore the fact that Anthony was ogling my wife’s boobs. If Anne noticed the attention, then she didn’t comment on it. “Thank you again for inviting us,” She said, instead.
“Don’t worry about it. I do what Sheila asks,” Anthony laughed.
As the night lengthened, I noticed some couples breaking off from the rest of the group. I asked Anthony where they were going. He smiled and said, “Wherever they can get some privacy.”
I nodded, a bit embarrassed by my naivete.
There was also some playful flirting, especially with Anne. This didn’t surprise me. Anne was easily one of the prettiest women at the party. At first, she seemed bothered by the obvious flirting, but she loosened up as the night progressed. There was one man, however, who seemed to ignore the party etiquette which the other participants followed. He drank copiously in isolation, which was odd, as everyone else was with a partner. He flirted with all the women and was rebuffed by them all, as well. When he approached Anne, I expected her to turn away, but she didn’t.
We were standing in the kitchen: me, Anne, and a couple that Anthony had introduced us to: Michael and Jessica. We were discussing Christopher Ryan’s and Cecilda Jethà’s most recent book when the man approached us. Anne and I were standing beside each other, and I noticed him only when the couple we were speaking with seemed to direct an uncomfortable, annoyed expression at the space to the left of my wife. I looked in that space also, only to see that the man had occupied it. He wore a disingenuous smile that brought a scowl to my face. If my wife seemed bothered by his appearance, then she didn’t show it.
“I wonder if they are in an open relationship,” Anne said.
“Sorry?” I asked, having lost track of the conversation.
“Ryan and Jethà.”
“Oh.”
“Why, I suppose they must,” said Michael.
We continued our conversation as if no interruption had taken place. After a while, however, I realized that Anne was talking less. I looked over at her to notice that the man beside her was whispering something in her ear. He hadn’t spoken to us at all since intruding. I wanted to ask for his name, but I somehow felt as if it would be rude to interrupt them.
Anne laughed, or giggled would be more accurate.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
But something clearly was quite hilarious because a moment later she was laughing again. I did not know why this bothered me to the degree which it did. I am not vain, but I felt that the man who she was speaking with was my inferior in the categories that women considered when selecting a mate. And yet, this man was effectively closing any communication that my wife and I would ordinarily have had.
I tried to focus on what Michael and Jessica were saying, but I found myself stealing glances at Anne and her interlocutor. At one point, I thought that he had placed a hand on her butt; however, his hand was not there when I glanced behind her.
I felt a hand wrap around mine and I looked to Anne only to see her looking back at me with quite a serious expression. I thought that I knew what that expression meant.
“Honey, Jack is going to show me around,” Anne said.
“Jack?”
The man beside her (Jack) grinned at me. I smiled politely. “But Anthony has already shown us around.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, a bit annoyed. “Well, there is more to see, I’m sure.”
Before I could protest further, she had turned away from me, with Jack in tow. And now I could see that his hand was placed comfortably on Anne’s ass. I saw them walk upstairs and turn a corner, but right before they disappeared, Anne cocked her head at me and winked.
After a couple of seconds, I excused myself from Michael and Jess. They seemed a bit uncomfortable, as if they knew; well, they likely did.
I walked up the staircase and rounded the corner. There were many doors, but only one of them was slightly ajar. The lights in the room were off, and it took some seconds for my eyes to adjust; however, when they did adjust, I could see that Anne and Jack were on the bed.
She had taken his cock out of his pants and was presently stroking it. It was thicker than mine, but I’d like to think that mine was a bit taller. He leaned his head towards her while she stroked him. I was just about to think that she would never let him kiss her when she closed the distance between them, kissing him first. I saw his body twitch, and I knew he was about to orgasm, but he stopped her hand. I caught what he said next. She seemed to think about the proposal, but not for long.
It all happened rather quickly. He pushed her skirt down and positioned his cockhead at the folds of her vagina. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Then, he entered her. He bucked his hips for a few moments and then stopped, and I knew that he was shooting his seed into her.
Before I left, I saw that they had switched positions, though I couldn’t be certain what they planned to try next.
I returned to the car and waited for her to come out. She did so an hour later, a smile plastered on her face.
“Did you like that?” She asked.
“I didn’t stay to the end.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. I thought she was going to ask me why, but instead, I felt her hand grab my penis. I was concrete.
She jerked me off and I orgasmed more quickly than I ever had before.