2000: My Wife's Prey

She stopped, and I sipped my drink.

Till now, Astrid seemed to have done really well.

"Then I said, since it seemed to me pretty much a girl's problem, it was probably a good idea she spoke about it to me."

I chocked on my wine and looked at my wife.

She went on: "Lella argued we don't know each other well enough, and I said it was a good opportunity to do something about it. I added that, as you had been telling everything to me, I was going to tell everything to you, and any confidence she was going to do to me, would be done also to you. She had to think to us as a couple without secrets and not as two individuals to choose between. I believe she liked."

I looked at her: "Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, you are taking quite a responsibility. And what would you do if she just states she want to have sex with me again?"

"Well, what would you do if she asks you? You can either do it and get kicked out by me the day after, or not do it and have her broken. Compared to you, at least I have a third option."

I looked at her without understanding.

Astrid waved my doubts away: "Anyway. She agreed to see me. We will meet for lunch tomorrow in Piazza di Spagna. We will have some girls talk and see what we can sort out. I will call you from the mobile and keep you updated before we decide or do anything. How about that?"

I could only smile: "It sounds like a plan. I love you."

A smile: "And I love you, hon. Thanks for trusting me: you'll not regret it."

Astrid called as I was having a sandwich in the Situation Room.

A joint Australian-Italian patrol had been engaged by Indonesian Para-military Muslim extremists along the border, and there had been a hell of a fire fight. A flight of Australian Hornets came in support, and a Medevac helo took three slightly wounded allied soldiers to our ships, together with two OPFOR KIAs. Thank God none of our boys got killed.

"We are talking." Astrid told me, briefly as I instructed her to do when calling me at work; "We finished lunch, and we will have a walk through the shopping area. But we are not through yet. Lella is calling home and giving Michele some excuse for not coming home, and I will also tell him something to reassure him that we are really together... So now you know it, in case he should call you for getting confirmed. I don't expect to be home when you arrive... Do you mind to walk the dog? I will call you at home later."

"Okay. Talk to you later. Bye, my love."

"Bye."

I came home and walked our dog. When we came back the phone was calling.

"Hallo?"

"Hi, it's me. Roberto, I am not coming home this night. I am positive I can bed her in a matter of hours... We are taking a room in a hotel and will spend the night together. I don't think I will be back home before you go to work tomorrow; don't worry: it's just the two of us, no men involved. You can help yourself with the dinner, can't you? I love you. Goodnight."

I looked at the phone after she hung up.

What the hell did it mean, "I am positive I can bed her"? Astrid had never been for girls... At least up till now. Neither Lella was, as far as I knew.

What the hell was going on?

I tried to call back, but Astrid's mobile was off.

Sure as hell, Michele called me a few minutes later, asking weather I knew what was going on. Clearly, he had no idea of the sexual implication, but he knew the girls were going to sleep downtown together. Was it OK with me, and did I know more about that?

Yes, it was OK, since I trusted Astrid and knew she loved hanging around till late in the centre, and no, I knew nothing more about it.

That night I went to sleep alone and puzzled, wondering what the coming day was going to take.

I walked our dog before going to work, and when I left Astrid wasn't back.

She called me in the office late in the morning, saying she was at home and everything went well. She was going to explain me once I was back from work, and she loved me very much.

The day went easily through for once, with no further incidents in Timor or elsewhere, as I was devoured by curiosity.

When I arrived at home relatively early for once, Astrid was waiting for me with a cold dinner ready on our balcony. She was wearing only a sleeveless shirt and a pair of black knickers, and looked in great spirit.

After a welcoming warm kiss, I got raped straight away in a standing position against the entrance door.

After that, I was pushed into the bathroom for a quick shower, and when I came out my wife was waiting for me at the table on the balcony, a bottle of wine open and our meal ready.

I sat, and got her hot story.

Astrid's Story

Lella and I met on the Spanish Steps as agreed... Only of course she was about twenty minutes late. I don't know weather that was due to her natural weariness to meet me or to her flat clumsiness; I hate when people aren't on time, and got quite pissed with her. I mean, more pissed than I was already.

Once she arrived, I noticed she was far from being at ease; basically, she looked like a wreck of nerves. She didn't put an inch of the care she used two days earlier with her look: faint jeans which only high lightened her oversized bottom, a horrible pink sleeveless shirt and a denim jacket of a different colour of her jeans. Her hair was combed with no care, and she wore no makeup. The only thought thing in her lookout was the high heels sandals she wore: the stupid girl was trying to be as tall as me.

"Hi Astrid," she said, her nervousness clearly transpiring from her expression and her voice.

"You're late." I said, without smiling: "Problems?"

"No, I just... I'm sorry I made you wait."

I had paid more attention to my look than her: it was important for what I had in mind. As usual back in those days, I was all in black: short leather jacket, satin shirt, tight jeans and low heels boots. I wore my hair very short, and darkened my colour from my natural middle brown to almost black. Also my makeup was thought of: not sexy, but aggressive, heightening the strong traits of my face and softening the most female ones.

Nothing really sexually driven in my look: I just wanted to assert my superiority from the very beginning.

It worked: Lella was embarrassed, and her eyes were looking down, more or less to the buckled of my belt.

"Doesn't matter. I'm hungry, let's have a bite."

She warmed up a bit, raising her eyes: "I know a small place nearby..."

"I know and like the restaurant behind the steps," I cut her off: "It looks touristy, but it's not. They have terrific appetizers and a good selection of wines."

She blushed: "I don't have much cash with me..."

I dismissed her again: "I'll pay. Come."

Do you know how to distinguish an expensive and basically fake touristy restaurant from a genuine Italian one in Rome? Easy: at real places, the menu list outside is only in Italian. If the place is also crowded around 13.00 or 20.00, you may be sure the food is good and prices are reasonable.

The place I chose is just fifty metres right of the Spanish Steps, just in front of the Embassy of Spain, which gives the name to the square. It's very nice: the place itself is built in an old courtyard and with a few extra rooms from the old buildings surrounding it. In summer there is also an extensive outdoor serving. Being usually October still quite summerish in Rome and being not 13.00 yet, we found a small table outside.

Just the time to seat and order half a litre of white Castelli Romani wine, and I hushed her to follow me to the self-service appetizers counter. It's the best item of the place: there is a fresh and wide selection of most central Italy gastronomy, both warm and cold, seafood, meat, cheese and vegetables. If you take a double tour there, you get a cheap, healthy and tasty meal in the best Roman gastronomic tradition.

Even being a Roman herself, Lella had no idea of the place. There are few people in the world who are more conservative than the average Roman: they all go to the places they know already, always eat and drink the same, and are weary to try something new.

That's why I decided to start from there my deviate cousin-in-law re-education.

Once we sat back at our table, Lella started: "Astrid, I..."

"Eat." I cut her sharply: "First we eat, then we talk. I don't want you to faint in front of me, you are a heap of uncovered nerves... Try these artichokes: they are fantastic."

"Err... I know. They are called "alla Romana", Roman Style... Do you know how to..."

"Yes, I know to prepare them. But these are better than mine. Are you capable to?"

"Why, not really... But my mom is very good at them."

It was being easier than I thought.

We spoke about food as long as we ate.

As I thought, after a second tour of the self-service counter, we were more than full, so I ordered half a bottle of San Giorgio, a Marsala-based liquor I knew they had, and as I expected Lella appreciated it even too much: it was strong and sweet, the typical stuff a woman like her uses to get high with.

It was around 13.00, the place was almost full and Lella started feeling a bit more relaxed. It was time to talk business.

"Lella, I know the whole story," I started, making her almost choke into her glass of Marsala: "Roberto told me all details, as he usually does... Also including things I would rather not know. He told me both about his point of view and about your own – at least as far as he knows and understands it. I am not sure I fully appreciate all the implications, since I am neither Italian nor Catholic, but I know the facts. I understand the two of you shared a kinky sexual attraction towards each other, the kind which often arises between cousins the same age. Eventually, your attraction ended up in a loose sexual affair which you managed to keep secret to anybody else. I also understand that, due to your environment and education, this affair ended up being the only real pre-marital sexual experience you got. Finally, I understand from Roberto's story that this affair was rather satisfactory for both of you, and while for him it was just one of his many experiences, for you it was the experience, and led you to some - how can I say - very committing statements... Like, "I belong to you, and I always will". Am I correct until now?"

All blushed in her face, Lella didn't manage to look at me and preferred to concentrate on her half empty glass, but she nodded sharply.

"Well. Then, still according to Roberto's story, your affair ended up – quite appropriately I must say – the very morning of your wedding... And never resumed. True to your wows, you have been a faithful and committed wife since, and never pursuit your cousin again. Is that true?"

Again, Lella nodded strongly her agreement.

"So. Three years went through. Now you are both married and supposedly happy... And all of a suddenly, you are back on top of him. In a quite shameless way, I'd say. I can't understand how the rest of your family never noticed what is so evident to me, and I'm not the one to stand for the sacrality of wedding wows... But I'm not going to get embarrassed any more by this situation. You hear me?"

This time, Lella nodded less strongly... And then gulped down what was left in her glass.

I refilled it.

"Then, here we are." I finished up: "What happened, Lella? Why are you suddenly giving such a bold and evident try at my husband three years after your last encounter? And, last but not least, what do you expect to get out of it?"

I had her flat on the ground. Defenceless. Defeated. Exactly how I wanted her.

She inspired deeply and sipped some more Marsala.

Then she started: "Astrid, I know it was sinful. I always knew it from the very beginning: our love was a forbidden one. Incest. Something not even to take into consideration as a life-lasting relationship. But I was weak... And Roberto has behaved like any other man, just got what he got offered, and trying not to extend the damage. Because the damage was mostly within my mind and soul, rather than in our bodies. I suppose my hormones tricked me: I needed sex, and Roberto was the only decent guy on my life scene, the only one I both liked and felt confident with and with whom I could do it without anybody knowing it. He turned out being a tremendous and caring lover, and I simply couldn't get enough of him... Even if every time I was with him I promised myself that it was going to be the last one. I knew it had to finish, sooner or later. I knew I had to find my own partner, to get married and have children with. I also knew that, being our one a forbidden thing, I had not to compare other men with Roberto… They didn't fall within the same category, you see? The one was my beloved cousin, my forbidden love... The others were the boys I could freely and dutifully choose between. That's how I lived our affair."

I nodded coldly. I noticed the droplet of a tear shining in her brown eyes.

"Finally, I sorted out my mind: it was time to build up my family. I had chosen Michele as my partner for good, and knew my sinful youth had to be closed down for good before starting up my new life. That's why I wanted Roberto after eleven years, the night before my wedding: it was in order to close up a stage and to open a completely knew one... Can you understand that?"

That one was far more clear. I nodded yes.

"Well, I did put Roberto behind me. I did commit myself to Michele with all of my body and all of my soul. And I was so happy for Roberto when he first introduced you to all of us... I swear it, I felt absolutely no jealousy towards you when we met. I was just so happy for him..."

"Wonderful," I said flatly: "So, what went wrong?"

Lella sobbed, and now her eyes were really swollen and wet: "I supposed it is the oldest story in the world... I think you can call me a... A sexually unhappy wife."

Again, I nodded coldly: "This is pretty evident. And do you really think to screw my husband to get the sexual arousal you are short of?"

Poor Lella blushed violently at my crudeness.

"I... I am sorry. I'm a married woman. I can't just cheat on my husband, I could never do it. But as I said, Roberto falls under a different category... He's not just another man to betray my husband with: he is my beloved cousin. In a way, it wouldn't be like cheating. Not more than kissing my brother!"

The sickness of the idea really hit me. That dumb Church-going chick was fucking up her own life and the lives of three other people she cared for, just because she couldn't even consider leaving her dull husband claiming sexual incompatibility!

But I fully understood the problem. I went through it.

I was a divorced woman when I met Roberto. I divorced because I realized my husband developed into my best friend, and nothing else. I loved and cared for him, but there was no sexual attraction between us any more, and in particular he had no drive for me. So, even if it hurt both of us badly, and shocked our friends and families, I divorced him; allowing both of us a new chance.

And my new chance came in due time, when Roberto and I met.

I understood the problem all too well... But I was sickened by her idea for a solution.

"It's not just that," Lella whispered amongst her sobs: "The point is that, however I claim I shouldn't compare the two of them, Roberto is such a better lover than Michele. My husband can't give me in one year the same pleasure Roberto gave me in one night. He takes me as a prim and proper husband: in our bed, light off, half dressed, always in the same position. Just a fast thing, as prescribed by moral... And not more than twice a month. I suppose it could fit me, should I not know any better. But I do. I know all too well how it is to be taken by a real man, how does it feel to be his woman and getting pleased every time in a different place and way. I know it, and my body fully remembers it..."

"Sweetheart," I told her, "However much I appreciate my husband – and I do appreciate him, since I left my home, my job, my friends and family, my own country to follow him a few weeks after meeting him – I must tell you that he is far from unique in the world scene. A lot of man can satisfy you as well as he does... And maybe even better."

"I know..." she sobbed, "But another man would mean... Adultery. I told you, Roberto is not just another man, he is my beloved cousin. It is incest, but that is just my sin. Adultery would hit Michele much worse..."

I cut her flatly: "That's bullshit. You're just sick in your mind. Your misread religious ideas are fucking yourself up, and your family together with you. I am not a Catholic myself, but I bet any priest of yours would explain you that if you screw Roberto, that would be both Incest and Adultery. Besides, I assume that it would make no difference to Michele to get cuckolded by Roberto or by anybody else."

Lella was crying now. Tears were running down her checks, and her shoulders were shaken by strong, painful sobs.

"I guess you are right..." she said slowly, without looking at me: "There is more, of course... It is so embarrassing!"

I refilled her glass again: "We are here to talk. I'm here to listen, not to judge... Maybe I can ever help you, but I need to know all of it. So, tell me!"

Lella sniffed, raising her head and sipping her drink, without looking at me yet: "We want children. We want them from the very beginning, and we know we are both capable. I did get pregnant during our honeymoon, but I lost the child. Nobody knows about it, but that's the reason I physically changed so much... No harm done, I only got scared. I suppose something within me feared it could be Roberto's child, out of our wild night before the wedding, and that's why I miscarried. I know it wasn't the case, but it's just an irrational feeling, and you know how these things go... Anyway, after three years, nothing happened. We do it regularly, I check out carefully my days, but to no avail."

"It happens," I said flatly, my mind on my own, bad miscarriage.

"I know," she whispered between sobs, still not daring to look at me: "But the same hormones that scream at me that Roberto is such a better sexual mate for me than my own husband, they also tell me he would father the best children with me..."

Now I was speechless. Speechless and angry. The problem was much worse than I thought. Not only the dumb chick wanted to screw my husband, she also wanted a child from him!

I tried to control my rage. And I tried to think of a solution. Of course I could beat the sick child to a heap of raw meat and drop her to the nearest hospital, but my husband would tell me I am disproportioned in my reactions. And I hate it when he tells me that.

I sipped my drink: "Lella, my best advice, this being the situation, would be to get a quiet, painless divorce on the basis of sexual incompatibility. I don't know your law, but I believe it is the best way out. But I assume your religious – better: social and moralistic – conventions prevent you from taking this step. The alternative is to get yourself a lover: a man who can satisfy your sexuality until your hormones quiet down, and maybe help you with a child... Hoping that motherhood will reduce your sex drive and change you into a happy wife and mom. This would be the easiest solution, the one most women in your position would take. But again, I understand the same constraints I mentioned earlier would stop you, even if nobody came to know about your affair... Am I right?"

Lella nodded her agreement, still shaken by her sobs.

"So we are back to your sick idea to get a lover who, not representing a potential alternative to your present husband, would not trigger a proper Adultery.