Karonga, Malawi: Tuesday 17th October 2017
“Jenny Cell.”
After nine hours of a useless blank screen, my phone was now finally re-connecting me with my world back in New York. Only instead of seeing “Sue Cell’ or “Home” or something I might have looked forward to, it showed something altogether more surprising and confusing.
I found my anger rising fast, spurred on by the fact that this wasn’t Sue on the line. I let the phone ring a few times. My mind going back to the role Jenny had played in the weekend’s events and also the events that had set Sue and me down this path back in 2015.
As the screen continuing flashing ‘Jenny’, I recalled how she’d teased me that night Sue and Francis were on their first date, before they’d then spent the whole weekend screwing. I remembered how she’d been the instigator of Sue’s short but painful affair with Brandon. And most of all my mind bubbled with anger at how she’d taken a supposedly innocent dinner party a day ago and seduced Sue. And then, just for good measure, re-ignited Sue’s attraction and desire for Francis.
My mind now fogged by a deep red mist, I finally picked up.
“Jenny. What the fuck are you doing ringing me?”
Jenny was Sue’s best friend and she and I had become good friend’s these last two and a half years. But my blood was boiling over and I wanted someone to blame. A scapegoat. Anyone but myself and having to look inward to allocate blame.
“Hi, Pete. It’s nice to hear your voice too.” Jenny was standing toe-to-toe, no hint of remorse or apology in her tone. I knew she was a feisty lady. She and Sue were opposites. Sue was kind and gentle. Jenny wasn’t an ogre, but she had a tough and mischievous core.
I’d expected some hint of remorse from Jenny and I was momentarily lost for the words.
As I tried to work out what to say, Jenny stepped into the breach. “Look, Pete, I’m sorry for what happened. I know what you and Sue went through before, with Brandon. And believe me, I’ve no wish to see that happen again. But in a strange way, I think what’s happened is for the best.”
I nearly choked with incredulity.
“How on earth do you figure that out? Here I am, half-way around the world and thanks to your Sunday-night special Sue and Francis are shacked-up together screwing each others’ brains out. How the hell do you make out that ‘maybe that’s for the best’!”
“Because at least it’s now out in the open!”
Jenny’s words hit me like a sledgehammer. I felt like I’d been run over by a semi-trailer. What was now out in the open? Did she mean that they were already screwing behind my back, and now at least I knew about it and could deal with it? How else could I interpret her words?
“What the fuck do you mean, Jenny? Are you trying to tell me that Sue and Francis were already sleeping together? Even before this Sunday?”
“Why? Would that excite you, Pete?” Jenny’s voice dripped with disdain and contempt. “Wasn’t that what you had in mind all along for Sue and the handsome doctor? Wasn’t that why you kept Francis there all weekend after his first date with Sue? Before you got cold feet and pulled the plug!”
This was a million miles from the conversation I’d expected. When I’d spoken to Sue and Francis on Monday morning they’d both been apologetic and remorseful about what had happened. And now suddenly it was like looking through one of those looking glasses that turns everything upside down. The remorseful couple had disappeared to be replaced by a woman who was taunting and winding me up. Suggesting that I should be happy about how things had turned out. That it’s what I’d had in mind all along.
Jenny’s words pushed me over the edge. “Get stuffed Jenny! You know what we’ve been through. You know how your stupid game with Brandon nearly cost us our marriage. If they are sleeping together, it’s probably down to you anyway.”
I expected Jenny to fire straight back at me. In all the years I’d known her I don’t think I’d ever seen her back down from an argument. As the silence stretched out I became nervous about what she’d say next.
The silence between us seemed to stretch on and on until finally Jenny spoke and knocked the wind right out of my sails.
“Pete, I’m really sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have wound you up like that. I know I can be a tease sometimes, but I really care about you and Sue.”
“And just to put your mind at rest; no, Sue and Francis weren’t sleeping together before Sunday. When I said maybe it’s better out in the open, what I meant was the obvious attraction between the two of them. Especially since things started to go South between him and Roni.”
“Nothing’s happened between them, Pete. But the spark between the two of them is pretty obvious, and what I meant is that maybe it’s for the best that we can now all see it in the open and work out how to deal with it.”
Hearing Jenny’s words, my feelings were all over the place. I felt a wave of relief knowing that Sue hadn’t been unfaithful to me. Followed almost immediately by a painful knot in my gut at the thought of the attraction and chemistry Jenny said was obvious to everyone at the hospital.
Now it was Jenny waiting for the silence to end, as I struggled to respond.
After a while, she grew tired of waiting, and in a voice which was now gentle and patient, she addressed the elephant in the room. “Pete, honey, what exactly is it you want to happen between Sue and Francis … or between Sue and James for that matter? I think deep down you want to share Sue again.”
“You only stopped it the first time with Francis because you were worried he was looking for a substitute for his late wife, Heidi. And then between you and Sue, you somehow conspired to get young James into your bedroom. If you ask me, neither you nor Sue are done with the swinging lifestyle. It was just the whole disaster with Brandon that drove the real Pete and Sue deep underground. And it’s taken these last two and a half years for the real Pete and Sue to re-emerge.”
In the time that I’d known her, I’d enjoyed Jenny’s company, but I’d sometimes looked down on her a little. In terms of her intelligence. But not now. She’d cut right through the bullshit, doubts, and prevarication. Right to the heart of the matter.
I felt stripped bare. As if my very soul was on display to this woman. I felt like a little boy, confessing and desperately needing help. My voice full of pleading. “I don’t know. Jenny, I’m not sure I know what I want anymore. I don’t want to lose Sue. And I don’t want to go through what we went through with Brandon ever again. But you’re right. I did enjoy watching her with James. And I loved watching her with Francis. And if I’m honest, I know in my heart that Sue needs it and loves it as much as I do.”
“That’s the first step, Pete.” Hell, she sounded like a therapist now. “And you’re right, Sue does want it and need it as much as you do. But she’s been keeping it in check because she doesn’t want to hurt you or damage your marriage. Do you remember that conversation the two of you had after she went with James last Friday?”
“Which one? We talked about a lot of things afterward.”
“You know, the one where you told her about your come-to-Jesus moment. When you were watching her and James together and you realized that this is what you had both been wanting, but that you’d pushed it deep underground because of what happened with Brandon. Well, Sue and I pretty much talk about everything and she told me about it. And when I pressed her, she admitted that she did want and need it too.”
There was something in Jenny’s use of the word ‘it’ that was like a loose thread. Just hanging there and begging to be pulled at. “What do you mean ‘it’?” I needed and wanted Sue to spell it out.
Jenny’s voice was still gentle, even if her words were not. “Pete, don’t be obtuse. You know what ‘it’ is. But if you want me to spell it out, if that’s what you want to hear, then very well. Your sweet wife, Sue, the love of your life, needs other men. She needs other men, just like you need to watch her with other men. She needs bigger men. Just like you need and want to watch her with men who are bigger than you.”
Her voice, still calm and gentle like some medicinal balm, continued. “Pete, honey, be honest with yourself. You’ve been that way since you were a boy. And having let the genie out of the bottle, you’ve done well to control it this last couple of years. But now I think it’s time to have another crack at what you tried before. Because it’s who the real you is.”
For the next couple of minutes, there was total silence between Jenny and me. She’d said her piece and was waiting for my response. The old-fashioned clock in my African hotel room ticked and was the only sound as I struggled to process Jenny’s words.
My last words to Sue at JFK had been ‘don’t do anything before we talk’. And I’d reinforced that message when we’d finally spoken just after midnight early on Tuesday morning. And what I’d really meant was ‘don’t have sex with Francis or James again as I’m too scared of the consequences.’
But what Jenny was asking me to think about was the total opposite. That despite my fears I should face the truth of what we both really wanted as a couple and give Sue her freedom. Just as Jenny’s own husband Ken had given Jenny her freedom.
I finally broke the silence, speaking to Jenny as if she was some kind of big-sister protector figure. “Jenny, I’m frightened. I’m frightened of losing Sue. If we do what you’re saying, I’m frightened that she’ll fall in love with Francis or some other guy and leave me.”
After a short pause, Jenny’s calm voice answered. “Pete, I told you that Sue and I discuss everything, didn’t I. Well, because of that I know that you’re not frightened that she’ll fall in love with someone else. I know that the idea actually turns you on. That it’s part of your little fantasy.”
At that moment I felt embarrassed and ashamed that Jenny knew this. But I couldn’t deny it. It was true. It was something I’d told Sue several years ago.
“So while that’s a lie Pete, I know that it is true that you’re frightened of losing her. That you lost girlfriends before and that you’ve always felt that she’s too good for you and that one day she might find a guy at her level.”
She left the statements just hanging there – like a kite dangling in the wind. “But I know that’s not going to happen, Pete. I know how much Sue loves you and loves Donovan. I know there’s no way she’d ever leave you and Donovan for another man.”
Hearing Jenny’s words I actually started to cry. I’d been through so many emotional ups and downs since Friday night. Maybe it was inevitable that the dam would burst at some point. Jenny had the good sense and empathy to let me cry until I’d got enough of it out of my system. Only then did she gently move the conversation on.
“Pete, honey. I love you and Sue like you’re my own family. And I’m telling you the truth when I tell you that she’d never leave you. I know what I’m talking about, because I know I’d never leave Ken. Sue never hides anything from me and she’s told me she’d never leave you.”
“Honey, don’t rush into anything, but when Sue gets home from the theater, if she’s not too tired, the two of you need to pick up from where we are now and agree what you want to do next. Face it head-on, Pete. Don’t pretend it’s not there like you have the last couple of years. What do you think? Can you do that? Do you want to do that?”
For the next minute or so all Jenny heard was the sound of my breathing. As the thoughts turned over and over in my mind as I worked out what path to take.
“Yes. Yes, we can talk. Sue and I will talk.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Jenny and I ended the call a few minutes later I felt emotionally drained.
During the last few minutes of the call, I’d actually answered my initial question. Why was it Jenny ringing me, rather than Sue? Having finished our heart-to-heart, Jenny had explained the more mundane matters. How Sue was stuck in the theater due to a bad auto pile-up and how Jenny had spent her afternoon off arguing with my company’s admin department to finally get the problem with my phone sorted out.
Jenny’s last words to me were that the last time she’d checked with the hospital they reckoned all of the emergency theater would be finished by around seven-thirty p.m.. I looked at my watch which was now showing half past midnight local time. I worked out that meant Sue would be home in around two and a half hours. Eight p.m. New York. Three in the morning for me.
As our call ended I knew three things: That I was dog-tired from nearly thirty hours of non-stop traveling; that I was ravenously hungry; and most importantly, that despite my deep fatigue I needed to talk to Sue later tonight. The tired part of my brain told me to wait until the morning. But intuitively I knew this was the wrong call. Sue and I needed to talk. And by forcing myself to fight my extreme tiredness I’d be giving her a practical demonstration of my commitment to her and to the conversation we needed to have.
I finally summoned up the energy to take the shower I’d been contemplating before Jenny’s call. Feeling like my battery had surged from ‘0%’ to at least ‘5%’, I made my way out to the reception area to see what was available for food. As it was already half-past midnight I wasn’t optimistic.
The pretty young receptionist who’d welcomed me earlier had been joined by another young girl who appeared to be taking over from her. I waited for them to complete their handover. Then I asked the new girl (whose name tag said she was called Lisa) what was available for food at this late hour. The new girl was white, and as soon as she spoke, Lisa’s accent gave her away as South African. She had a pleasant way about her, and I found myself warming to her even more when she said that the full menu was still available. This seemed a minor miracle to me at this time of night. But when she explained that the chef lived in the hotel it made sense.
She asked me what I wanted and when I ordered a steak, she offered me a beer to wash it down. I was sorely tempted but was afraid I’d fall asleep if I drank and settled for a coke instead. The meal was okay and helped fill a hole as well as passing the time. With dinner finished I still had ninety minutes to wait until Sue would be home. I decided to indulge my dirty little secret to help kill the time.
I’ve always enjoyed an occasional good cigar. But as my nurse-wife strongly disapproves of any form of smoking, I limit myself to an occasional cigar when I’m away on business. After all, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. As I was stuck here for three weeks and knew they’d be precious little else to do, going through duty-free I’d purchased three packets of half coronas to keep me company.
I headed back to my room to collect them as Lisa the receptionist and the young Malawian chef Joel closed the restaurant up for the night. Changing my mind about my ‘no booze’ rule, I poured myself a large duty-free whiskey and headed to the veranda to light-up and enjoy my guilty pleasure.
As I lit up and took my first pull on the cigar, I felt calm and at peace with the world. Smoking a cigar always seems to help calm me. Something about the measured and slow inhaling and exhaling of smoke I guess. I looked up at the sky. I’d enjoyed enough African skies over the years to not be surprised at the breathtaking darkness and beauty of the night. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I was able to make out the shape of the mountain peaks, adding to the sense of beauty and tranquility.
My cigar was half smoked and I was feeling truly calm and peaceful when I suddenly heard a female voice giggling somewhere off to my left. The giggling continued for a few seconds before changing to a series of low feminine moans. I’d seen no signs of other guests in the hotel and wondered if the sounds were coming from one of the two receptionists.
The giggle returned, followed by a laughing plea. “No Joel. Not out here, we might get in trouble.” The accent told me everything I needed to know. Evidently, Lisa the receptionist and Joel the chef were indulging in some post-work fun and games to help pass the time. I could hardly blame them. There was little else to do in this remote wilderness. Was it really any surprise if they chose to do what comes naturally when two attractive young people find themselves alone and with little else to occupy their time.
Lisa’s request for Joel to stop was a solitary plea, soon replaced by more moans. As Lisa’s moans grew louder I found myself speculating about what the young black chef was doing to the pretty South African receptionist. What was making her moan with such obvious satisfaction? All her worries about getting in trouble seemed forgotten as her young lover pleasured her. Was Joel just playing with her tits? Or had be progressed as far as stroking her licking her pussy? Or was he already fucking her?
Social convention dictates that I should have respected their privacy. But with everything going on in my head after talking to Jenny, I was unable to resist. I found myself pulled closer and closer to the young lovers. Sucked closer by the sounds of their love-making.
It was pitch black and I had to tread carefully to avoid obstacles or making any loud noises. But I wasn’t careful enough, because just at the instant I came around the corner and saw the young couple I banged into an old metal bucket which tipped over and made an awful noise.
Instinctively I closed my eyes at the shock, maybe hoping this somehow made me invisible in some magic way. A moment later when I opened my eyes and realized I was far from invisible. I was stood barely ten foot away from the young couple, both of whom were looking directly at me. Young Joel had Lisa’s pale body bent over a bench as he stood directly behind her. A young black man obviously enjoying the feeling of being balls deep in her sweet white pussy. Their two reactions couldn’t have been more different. While Lisa stared at me with a frightened and startled expression, Joel’s face had a huge grin plastered all over it. Look at me! Look at the pretty white girl I’m fucking!
Not surprisingly, Joel was the first of the three of us to speak. “Enjoying the show, Mr. Jones?” he asked me, his grin getting even bigger as he spoke. I spluttered and found myself unable to speak.
“It’s okay, Mr. Jones. Lisa’s quite the little slut. She’s quite the little show-off. You’re not the first one who’s watched me fuck her. A couple of the bell-boys have enjoyed the same show,” he added, chuckling to himself as he enjoyed his own joke.
Then he gave me an exaggerated wink and turned his attention back to Lisa. His hands returned to her hips and he pulled his muscular black ass back several inches before gripping Lisa tightly and thrusting deep into her with one long and powerful stroke. The pretty young receptionist squealed from the force and depth of the stroke, and she closed her eyes before turning away from me and lowering her head. Maybe she was trying a version of my invisibility trick. Closing her eyes, imagining that if she couldn’t see me then I couldn’t see her.
I don’t really know what thoughts were going through her brain. But whatever they were, they didn’t stop her from enjoying the vigorous fucking that Joel the chef was giving her. Her head stayed down, pointing away from me and in line with her body which was now receiving a thorough and animalistic fucking from Joel. By now I’d moved closer and even in the dark could see his fat, glistening cock as it pistoned in and out of Lisa’s pale, quivering body. He continued to grip her hips firmly and he was now really slamming in and out of the pretty South African. As if he was trying to fuck his cock right through her so it came out through her mouth.
As his pace built-up, he used one hand to start pulling hard on Lisa’s right nipple. I remember thinking how nice and perky her small breasts were, and how huge and distended Joel’s pulling had made her teat. With the pistoning effect of Joel’s big black cock and his stimulation of her boob, Lisa’s breathing soon started becoming shorter and more ragged. Both Joel and I recognized the signs of her impending orgasm. As Joel slammed into her even faster and deeper, he finally triggered her climax as Lisa shrieked out loud with a noise that could wake the dead. Her body went rigid and I saw her spasm several times as her orgasm rolled through her body, with Joel holding her firmly so she didn’t collapse.
As Lisa came down from her high, Joel pulled out from her body and for the first time, I saw the size of his cock. His cock wasn’t as long as some of the men Sue had enjoyed, but it was fat like a beer bottle. Joel caught me looking at it and winked at me again.
“First time, Mr. Jones? First time to see a black cock fucking a white pussy?”
I don’t know what possessed me to say it. Maybe it was the hint of mockery and arrogance in his voice. But I found myself replying, almost with pride. “No. Actually, my wife has had a couple of black lovers.”
Maybe I thought it would make me seem like a man of the world. The equal of this young black guy who’d got the girl. Anyway, whatever I thought it might do, all it did was encourage Joel and seemed to make him even more cocky than before.
“Lucky Mrs. Jones,” he grinned. “Lucky to have a husband who lets her enjoy black dick. Lucky to enjoy the skills and size of black men. White guys might run the world, Mr. Jones. But black guys fuck better. We win all the medals and all the sports. And we fuck better. Ask any white woman and if she’s not trying to protect your feelings, that’s what she’ll tell you.”
He didn’t bother to wait for my reply. Instead, he led Lisa over to a wooden recliner and lay down on his back, his fat cock standing directly up as Lisa quietly positioned herself astride him. Without any words passing between them, the pretty receptionist lowered herself down until she was once again fully impaled on her lover’s obscenely thick, black cock.
The cocky expression on Joel’s face momentarily changed as he enjoyed the feeling of Lisa’s young and no doubt tight pussy gripping his fat cock. He turned to me one last time. “Next time why don’t you bring your wife here with you, Mr. Jones. Then you could watch me stretch her out and make her squeal like a stuffed pig. I could be her next black lover. I’m sure you’d enjoy that. I know she would.”
Then he turned to look at Lisa, who was still sat fully impaled, her tight white tummy touching Joel’s virile six-pack. Oh to be young again! Both of these young people were magnificent adverts for the benefits of youth, and I stood there and watched quietly as their love-making started up again.
They were soon lost in each other, aware of my presence but not really caring or paying me any attention. Joel offered his hands to Lisa who grasped them to help her balance as she moved up and down Joel’s glistening cock. They often say that cock girth matters more than length, and from her erect nipples and the noises she was making Lisa seemed to be living proof of this theory. Their eyes were locked together and Lisa was soon moaning and chanting. I couldn’t really make out her words, but it seemed like she was telling the black chef how good he felt inside her and how much he was stretching her.
After a few minutes, Lisa was really slamming down onto Joel’s belly, each time her body making a loud slapping noise that echoed around the quiet of the garden. Her speed got faster and faster as her moans and words got more desperate and more difficult to understand. Until finally she slammed down onto Joel, her nails digging into his chest as he thrust upwards and they came together. Lisa’s long nails drew blood and Joel roared like a bull as he held Lisa’s hips like a vice. I saw his body spasm as he shot four or five times before he was done and he let Lisa collapse down onto his body.
The young couple kissed tenderly. Their bodies were now close and for the first time this made me think about the contrast between the two of them. The darkness of the young Malawian chef, contrasted with the pale and delicate body of the blonde receptionist. It was an erotic thought that made my cock harden even more. Inevitably it made me think back to the situation back in New York. A situation I knew I’d be having to address in only a few minutes time.
As they kissed and cuddled, I felt decidedly out of place. I started retracing my steps back towards my room, thinking I’d escaped with minimal embarrassment. But a couple of seconds after I’d disappeared around the corner I heard Joel’s teasing voice. “Hey man. Hope you loved the show! Remember what I said if your wife stays with you next time. I’d be happy to show her a good time.”
I shrugged off the feeling of embarrassment, and as my keycard opened my door I realized my cock was still incredibly hard from the show I’d just watched.
Looking at my watch, I realized I still had an hour to wait before I could call Sue. With the excitement and stimulation from watching Joel and Lisa now gone, a wave of tiredness swept over me. Narrowly avoiding electrocution from the cheap, China-made kettle, I made myself a strong cup of instant coffee and sat on my balcony looking at the dark African sky.
Even with everything that was going on in my life, I was awed by the majesty and tranquility of the mountains. I lit another cigar and started thinking about the conversation I had to have with Sue, now less than an hour away. As I tried to sort my jumbled thoughts and feelings out, I realized watching the show between Joel and the pretty white receptionist had done me no favors. It had fired up my libido, reminding me how much I’d enjoyed watching Sue with the three men I’d let her sleep with.
Deep down, I knew I wanted a clear and fresh brain to discuss these potentially life-changing decisions. And what hand had fate dealt me? A brain surging with testosterone and now extreme fatigue from thirty hours of travel. Mashed in with a side order of jetlag just for good measure.
I’d just retrieved a notebook to help me sort my thoughts out when I heard a quiet knock at the door. It was so quiet I wondered if I’d imagined it. But when it repeated I got up and opened the door.
I was taken aback to see the receptionist who’d first welcomed me standing there. I’d assumed she’d gone home after handing over to Lisa, but she was very much still there, her name tag telling me her name was Grace.
Her smile was incredibly sweet, instantly making me feel paternal and protective to this pretty young African woman. Her smile really complimented her attractive face. She was obviously shy and nervous, and I wondered why she’d knocked on my door.
“Hi, Grace. Is there something I can help you with?”
Still looking a picture of shy sweetness, her next words knocked me right back.
“I was outside. Watching my friend Joel fucking Lisa. And I couldn’t help but hear what you said about your wife back home having other men as lovers. Black men.”
Despite her sweet and innocent demeanor, I was pretty sure I knew what was coming next. A girl knocks on hotel door in small hours. In Africa or Asia this normally only means one thing.
“I just wanted to let you know, Mr. Jones, that if you and Mrs. Jones have that kind of open relationship, then I am able to give an excellent massage. And other services, if required. We’re always keen to make our guests’ stay as comfortable and happy as possible.”
Don’t judge a book by its cover, right? Grace almost made the last bit sound like part of the company mission statement. Hell, all she needed to add was the ubiquitous ‘have a nice day now’.
When I’d recovered from my attack of spluttering and surprise, I finally managed to politely decline Grace’s kind offer without causing her offense.
“No problem, Mr. Jones. Anyway, you know where I am, if you change your mind.”
I thought she was about to leave. But looking past me, she looked at the bed and then gently pushed past me, telling me she was going to turn down the sheets. Not exactly a service I was expecting in this two-star hotel in the darkest depths of Africa. Happy with her work, she smiled at me and started towards the door. But before she reached the door she turned to look at me. “Mr. Jones, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you let your wife sleep with other men? I only ask because no Malawian or African man would ever allow his wife to do that. And it intrigues me. Why do you let her do it?”
Shit! Would this day never end? First I’d had a combined therapy-lecture session from Sue’s best friend Jenny. And now I had this sweet African girl asking me, in all innocence, why I did something that no African husband would ever allow.
I have many weaknesses. And one of them is that from an early age I had it drummed into me that when you’re asked a question, the polite and proper thing to do is to answer the question. (I’d have made a terrible politician or salesman.)
So I spent the next fifteen to twenty minutes explaining to the wide-eyed young Grace why I allowed and even encouraged my wife to sleep with other men. Because I got off on the excitement of watching her with a bigger and better man. And because I loved knowing she was getting a better and different pleasure than I could give her with my slightly under-sized five-inch cock.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been a deeply embarrassing conversation, and my cheeks would have been glowing bright red. But I was so dog-tired and in need of sleep that I didn’t have the energy to feel embarrassed. I just told it like it was.
This surreal conversation ended by Grace saying that Mrs. Jones was a lucky woman. And that one day she hoped to escape from this backwater to somewhere as liberal and enlightened as America. And that if she ever managed this, she wanted an American husband like me, who would allow her to enjoy different men.
There was no answer to that. And with a sigh of relief, I finally closed the door behind her. Despite her questions, and offers of ‘extra services’, I still thought her to be a sweet young lady. But I was glad to be alone. I still hadn’t worked out what I was going to say to Sue.
As Grace’s heels echoed away down the wooden corridor I took a deep breath and realized I had barely half an hour to get my thoughts in order. Before Sue arrived home from her long day in theater and we jointly addressed the elephant in the room. Her long dormant attraction between her and Francis, now suddenly burst back into life and requiring some far-reaching decisions.
As I started to organize my thoughts, I realized two things which were to have a momentous impact on the conversation that Sue and I were about to have.
Firstly, I realized how watching the black-on-white sex show between the young black chef and the white receptionist had re-calibrated the balance in my brain as I weighed risks against pleasure.
Two and a half hours ago, as I’d sat alone as the hotel’s only dinner guest, my head had been full of the risks and worries about letting Sue and Francis’ relationship start-up again. Back in 2015 all three of us had agreed to close down their embryonic affair because of shared fears we’d all had.
Things had changed these past two and a half years. Francis had become a good friend to both Sue and myself. But nonetheless, I couldn’t help remembering what he’d said to Sue after their first night together. That he was a jealous and possessive man. Not someone who naturally shared his women. I genuinely believed these last two years he’d moved on and was no longer seeing Sue as a ready-made substitute for his late wife, Heidi. But still, his words about not being a sharer and being possessive and jealous echoed around my brain like ricocheting bullets. I knew him well enough as a man and as a friend to know he’d never intentionally try and harm my marriage. But his honest words told me that, even if he was at heart a good guy, there was a potential fault line running right down the middle of any possible three-way relationship.
These fears had been uppermost in my mind all through dinner. But after watching Joel and Lisa together I was so shot full of testosterone and adrenaline that my brain had been recalibrated. The risks and worries seemed altogether smaller. My excitement at the thought of renewing an open marriage was boosted. Multiplying like one of those viruses that splits and doubles every few seconds.
The second thing I realized was something I didn’t want to admit to myself. It was a painful truth that Jenny had pointed out during our long conversation, that my first instinct always seemed to be about pursuing what it was I wanted. What appetites of mine I needed to feed. Or at other times when I’d slammed the breaks on, what fears of mine I was trying to quell. She’d then gone on to ask me a rhetorical question. When would be the first time in this game that I’d think about Sue’s needs and fears first? Jenny hadn’t said that what I wanted was unimportant. She’d just pointed out the painful truth that I tended to think of myself first and only then turn to what it was Sue wanted.
With these two guiding principals, I started writing down some semblance of what I planned to say to Sue. I won’t bore you with the details, because like pretty much every important conversation I’ve ever had with Sue, the plan and reality bore little resemblance to each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sue finally picked up after about the tenth ring. I thought I was going to die. After so much waiting and thinking it would have been unimaginable torture to not be able to talk to her there and then.
“Hi, honey,” came her simple welcome, the tone of her voice telling me just how tired she was. At least we were united in this.
“Hey, baby. It’s wonderful to hear your voice. I’ve missed you so much all day.”
“Me too, Pete, honey. I’m so sorry about what happened last night. You know I’d never have done anything like that deliberately, don’t you?”
Realizing she was still riddled with guilt and this was the first thing on her mind made me feel a whole lot better and more reassured about things.
“I know, honey. I’m okay with it. I know it was just a misunderstanding.”
“Thanks, baby. It would kill me to think I’d hurt you in any way,” the emotion in her voice clear.
Part of me wanted to put off the next part of the conversation until we were both less tired and until maybe a little more water had flowed under the bridge. But I’ve always hated putting off difficult conversations. I’m a kind of a ‘pull the bandage off quickly’ type guy. And so taking a deep breath I plucked up my courage and started out on my pre-prepared speech.
A blow-by-blow account of exactly what Sue and I said is beyond me, and would probably be really boring anyway. But what I can recall as clear as if it were yesterday was the ebb and flow and shape of the conversation. And some of the key things that we both said from our differing viewpoints.
I started out by relating the long conversation I’d had with Jenny. It turned out Sue already knew about this as her best friend had called her when she was driving back home from the hospital.
Just for good measure, I told Sue about what I’d witnessed between the chef and the receptionist, and all of the questions from the not so innocent Grace. This made Sue laugh, and she speculated that maybe this was some divine sign from above.
We both knew that I was just laying the ground for the difficult conversation we had to have. Having ‘accidentally’ re-kindled the dormant relationship between Sue and Francis, what the hell were we now going to do about it?
I reassured Sue I’d be totally straight with her about what it was that I did and didn’t want. But that before I shared that, I wanted to hear from her what she wanted, explaining that Jenny had been right that I’d often in the past started with my own selfish needs and wants.
Interestingly, Sue didn’t gainsay Jenny’s assessment and I could almost hear the cogs whirring as Sue decided what to say.
“Pete darling, the first thing I want to say is that I never want us to do anything that’s going to hurt you or our marriage. You and Donovan are the most precious things I’ve got. You’re the heart and soul of my life and I never want to do anything that puts that at risk.”
I loved hearing these words. But I sensed there was a ‘but’ coming. I was right, but I had to wait a little while longer to hear it.
“Also, I’d only ever want to do things which excite and make you happy as well. Pete, honey, this can never just be about doing things that makes only one of us happy, but not the other.”
Hearing Sue’s preamble, I felt like jumping in to finish what I was pretty sure I knew she was about to tell me. Why else would she start by saying all these things? But out of respect and maybe also out of a little sense of masochism I said nothing. I wanted to hear the words. To hear what I pretty much knew I was about to hear from Sue’s own lips.
“But having said all of that, if you’re comfortable and excited by the idea of me and Francis, then yes, I’d like to see him again. To pick up where we left off before he met Roni.”
There was a long silence. Sue was waiting to hear my reaction. And I was scrambling to get my head straight and find the right words.
If this conversation had happened three or four hours ago, before recent events and my conversation with Jenny, then I don’t think I’d have ever said what I was about to say. But that conversation with Jenny and watching Joel and Lisa had turned me right through a hundred and eighty degrees. I’ve always been prone to impetuousness and changing my mind. And the last few hours and what I was about to say was a classic example.
“Sue, honey. Before I answer, I need to ask you one simple question.”
I could picture the pained look on Sue’s face, as she sat eight thousand miles away and nervously waited for my question.
“Sue, back when we started this thing with Francis, you once said that there were no cast-iron guarantees. That the world was full of couples who’d promised each other that they’d never leave one another. Is that still how you feel? Is that still what you think?”
It was my turn to nervously wait as Sue figured out how to answer my question.
“You do ask the trickiest and most fiendish questions, Peter Jones. You do know that, right?” Sue chuckled as she sought to lighten the mood a little before answering my question.
“Pete baby, when I said that, things were different. Francis and I hardly knew each other. The whole thing with him was new and intoxicating. He was still raw from losing Heidi and hardly knew you or me. And we’d not been through the whole thing with Brandon.”
“But now things are different, honey. I stand by what I said. In theory, there are no cast iron guarantees. Who knows if the sun will come up in the morning? Or go down at night? Who knows what might happen? Maybe I could grow a foot and you could run for President. Who knows?”
“But in practical terms, I don’t worry about those things. Because I know they’ll never happen. And I don’t worry about you and me splitting up. Because I know it will never happen. I know I’ll never ever want to live without you. And just as importantly, I know you feel the same.”
After a short pause, Sue asked, “Baby, does that answer your question?”
I almost cried as Sue’s words sunk in. She’d not sugar-coated it. But I knew every word she said was true. Every single word. Both good and bad.
And her words, coming from a place that had loved me and blessed my life these last twenty or so years, gave me the platform of security and love that I needed.
“You have my blessing, honey.”
Those five words were all I needed to say. Sometimes less is more.
Letting out a huge yawn, I looked up at the old clock which showed it was now nearly four in the morning. Sue and I had been talking for nearly an hour.
After nine hours in surgery, I’m sure Sue was feeling the same way. “Pete, honey, I’d love to talk more. But I’m really whacked after what happened today. I know it’s the middle of the night for you and how traveling tires you out. What say we pick this up in the morning?”
“That sounds like a plan. But your six a.m. is my middle of the day. I’ll be on-site and half-way up a mountain. I’m pretty sure they’ll be no phone or internet. How about we pick up at the end of tomorrow. Something like ten or eleven p.m. New York time which is my five or six in the morning.”
There was a long pause from Sue as she considered the implications of what I was saying. “Pete, baby, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
I swallowed and could feel my body start to shake. My throat was dry and my voice full of nerves as I answered Sue. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our call finished, I finally turned off the lights and closed my eyes. Four a.m. and a tiredness that could have felled a bear. But still, it took me a long time to fall asleep. My mind was full of excitement and fear at the ride Sue and I were about to start again. Knowing the next time we spoke she and Francis would again be in a relationship. And this time, not by way of some accident or manipulation. This time as part of an agreement between Sue and I that this was what we both wanted.
The room was dark and near silent. Only the sound of the old clock and the swish of the blades of the ceiling fan kept me company. I wondered what highs and lows the next three weeks would hold for me.
