John Opens the Bottle

Midway through dinner, I noticed Mace heading to the bathroom. Without thinking, I excused myself and followed him.

When I entered, Mace was over the sink, washing his hands. I caught his eye in the mirror, and he said "Hey you" as he grabbed a towel and turned around.

"Hey yourself," I said. I wanted to kiss him, so I did. Lightly. When I pulled back, he tossed his towel gently in my face and moved toward the door. I put my hand on it and wrapped my left arm around his chest.

"Josie, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I do not know. But, I would like to kiss you again. For real."

He turned around, took my face in his, and kissed me hard on the mouth. He tried to keep his mouth closed, but I would not allow it. I forced my tongue into his mouth, and we kissed like we had, once upon a time.

When we finally parted, I told him my room number and suggested he join me later, when the rest of the world was asleep. His only response was to tell me to stay in the bathroom until my dick was no longer hard.

He was engrossed with Juan as I glided back through the room. Susan greeted my return with a raised eyebrow. I smiled at her and put my hand on hers.

She leaned into me. "Mace looked flushed when he returned from the bathroom."

"We had an awkward encounter. He is opposed to this marriage. He thinks I am being unfair to you."

"Are you?"

"No."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"Yes. I'd be nervous if there had been others. But, I understand how one person can take you away. I had a friend like that in college. I had never had a lesbian thought, but I often thought of her when I masturbated. I'd have had sex with her if she had wanted."

I was troubled. I had lied to her about "no others." Apparently, she had not seen the lie in my eyes.

"Plus," she added. "You're either faithful or you're not. It doesn't matter to me if you cheat with a man or a woman. It matters to me if you cheat. You promised you wouldn't. So don't."

Mace did not knock on my door that night. I assumed and hoped he could just not get away.

In my mind's eye, I saw him fucking Juan as I masturbated. Juan was under him, his dark, hairy legs pinned to his chest by Mace's thick, alabaster arms. I came hard as Mace fucked him like an animal, powerful and raw.

Part Nine

During the first year of our marriage, Susan and I put a penny in a jar each time we had sex. During the second year, we took a penny out each time we had sex. We purposefully emptied the jar well before our second anniversary.

Our efforts led to John Chester Frederick IV. From birth, we called him Chet, which was short for Chester. I remembered that Mace had called his sister Chet. Melissa had become Molester, which had become Chester, Chester the Child Molester, which had become Chet.

Chet quelled Susan's enthusiasm for sex. Between working and mothering, there was not much time for intercourse. When there was, it was no longer adventurous and languid. I fucked her quickly. Most of the time, she did not care if she came. She was providing an outlet.

I communicated with Mace off and on, usually via email. He provided snippets of life with Juan, and I provided snippets of life with Susan. They adopted two Colombian boys, Andres and Camilo.

On my 37th birthday, Mace sent me a Happy Birthday email. We wrote back and forth about nothing until Mace asked "Are you faithful to Susan?"

"I am," I answered, honestly. We had been married ten years, and I had never broken my promise to her.

"Are you?" I asked back.

"I'm not married to Susan," he responded, cheekily. Before I could reply, he added "I'm not faithful to Juan and he's not faithful to me. We're not whores about it, but we're also not sure monogamy is achievable, even if it's desirable. We tried it for a long time. We just don't prefer it."

"Do either of you mind?"

"No. I'd mind if he fell in love with someone. He doesn't. I don't either."

"I think your world and my world are, as they say, worlds apart."

"Maybe," he responded, simply.

I had been tempted. I was as sexual as I had ever been, and Susan's disinterest had piqued my interest in others.

I had thought hard and long about sleeping with Katie, Chet's sitter. She was a DU student and a yoga enthusiast. She was hot and tight and obviously interested in me. I had many chances, as Susan worked long hours and often traveled.

One night while Susan was away, Katie watched Chet while I played poker with friends. I arrived home drunk and late. Katie was asleep on the couch. I left her there and went to bed. In the middle of the night, she climbed into bed with me. As always, I was naked. I was vaguely aware of her trying to get me hard, both with her hand and with her mouth. She failed, my drunkenness and fatigue thwarting her.

The next morning, I woke up thirsty and with a terrible headache. I rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom. I drank and drank and then took four Tylenol and wrapped myself in my robe. I rinsed my face and looked in the mirror. I told myself not to do what I was thinking of doing. I did not listen to myself.

I returned to the bed. Katie was awake and had the sheet pulled down, exposing her pert breasts. I removed the robe and climbed into bed. I was on my back next to her. Nervously, I reached my left hand over and found her shaved box. She was soaking wet. Without a word, I rolled toward and over her. She took me in her hand and guided me into her.

"Have you done this before?" I asked.

"God, yes," she answered. "I'm 20 years old."

I slid into her and held steady. She was tight and warm. She spread her legs wide and covered her face with a pillow. I gave her long, slow strokes. She raised her pelvis to meet mine. I sat up on my haunches and used her knees for leverage. I watched my dick slide in and out of her and noticed her engorged clit. I moved my right thumb to it and worked her while I watched myself fuck her. She shuddered when she came, pulling the pillow tight to her face and stifling her noises.

I came soon after she did, filling her. We had not been careful.

We did not talk as we dressed. As she left, she said only "Keep this between you and me."

I wanted to fire her as Chet's sitter. But, I thought that may lead to blowback. So, I slow played it, suggesting to Susan when she returned that Chet would soon be old enough to stay by himself.

Katie sat with Chet only a few more times before we eased her out. The second to last time, I weakened and fucked her again. This time, it was the middle of the day. Susan was at work, Chet was watching television, and I swung by the house to get some files out of my home office that I had not expected to need. Katie followed me into my office and pulled the door shut behind her. While I stood there dumbfounded, she laid herself flat on my desk and pulled her loose gym shorts to the side, exposing herself me. Without thinking, I unzipped my suit pants, pulled myself out, took hold of her ankles, and slid into her. I hated myself as I fucked her. Regardless of how unsatisfying my sex life with Susan had become, I did not have license to cheat. But, having started, I could not stop.

I heard from Katie only once after we were finished with her. It was a text message, and it said only "Not pregnant."

I toyed with the idea of telling Susan about Katie, not to hurt her, but to ameliorate some of the guilt I felt. Ultimately, I decided I had to carry that weight of my betrayal alone. I had betrayed Susan by cheating. I saw no reason to add insult to injury by hurting her more.

*****

I had years earlier fallen into an enduring bromance with Randy, a guy from my gym. He was an Aryan dream, blonde-haired and blue-eyed. He was taller and better built than I. He was crunchy, with long hair, an unshaven face, and liberal ideas and ideals.

We had met in the gym. I had noticed him as soon as he joined, as had everyone else. He was the kind of guy everyone noticed, for good reasons.

I asked the front desk about his workout schedule, and I adjusted mine accordingly. I purposefully ran into him. I casually mentioned that I suffered from motivational problems, and he suggested we work out together so we could hold each other accountable. I felt villainous.

The best part of our morning workouts was our morning showers. Our gym was old school, with a common shower with all six heads lined along one wall. Randy always took the head to the far left, and he showered at a 45 degree angle to me, focused on the corner.

Randy had a beautiful body. His back was muscled. His waist was narrow. His butt was round and dimpled. His thighs and calves where thick and matted with hair. Every time he reached behind to soap the crack of his ass, I watched.

His chest was muscled and covered with straight hair that was darker than the hair on his head. His stomach was covered with the same hair, but not as thickly.

Although he tried, he could not shield his crotch completely from me. His balls were large and hung loosely. His dick was very average, at least soft.

I never noticed him noticing me. I also never noticed him noticing me noticing him.

We settled into a rhythm. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, we met at the gym and worked out. Randy had a set workout, and he followed it maniacally. I tried, but it was hard, and it made me sore.

On Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, we met at the the park and ran 5 miles together. We hardly talked as we ran.

I could not figure him out. He was very attractive, but he never mentioned women. Or men. He did not ogle women at the gym. He did not ogle me in the shower.

Susan asked me if he was gay. I honestly told her I did not know. I speculated that he may be asexual.

"Maybe he's a Eunuch," she offered. I told her I had seen him naked. He was definitely not a Eunuch.

Despite all the years of discipline and all the time that had passed since Mace, I wanted Randy, but I did not think he wanted me. After the lesson of Thachter, I knew better than to press the issue. I had to wait for him to move, if he was ever going to.

As we stretched one morning, I was crushed that he announced the wrong kind of move, to Santa Fe in three months. "Work?" I asked.

"I met someone. It's getting serious. One of us have to move to take it to the next level. I like Santa Fe a lot, so I agreed to move."

I was speechless. I felt tears sting my eyes.

"I would like to meet her," I finally offered, once I could.

"She's a he," he answered, matter of factly. I had missed his use of "someone."

"Oh. I did not know. You never said."

"I never say. When people start telling me they're straight, I'll start telling them I'm gay."

"I am straight."

"I'm gay."

We started our run. As we did, I decided to tell Randy about Mace, not to make him comfortable, but to see what he would do or say.

When we were back at our cars and cooling down, I plunged. "I had a boyfriend once. When I was in law school."

"I'm surprised. You seem too staid to have taken a walk on the wild side, what with your Roman numerals and stately manor and perfect wife and even more perfect son."

"It surprised me, too," I answered, somewhat truthfully. "And overwhelmed me. I loved him a lot. Actually, I loved him truly. He wanted us to last. I could not let it."

"That's too bad. True love is hard to find."

"It is."

"But, you found it again with Susan."

"I did," I said. I am not sure that he believed me. I am not sure that I believed myself.

As always, we shook hands as we parted. "I am going to miss you," I assured him.

"I'll miss you, too."

I told Susan as soon as I was back home. Randy was woven into our family. He was my best friend. He was also Chet's best friend. He had spent countless hours in our home. He was the only person Chet had asked to sleep over.

"Two things," I announced as I removed my sweaty clothes. "One, Randy is moving. To Santa Fe. Two, he is moving to be with a guy. The mystery is solved. He is gay."

"How long have you known?"

"About which one?"

"Both. Either."

I looked at my watch. "55 minutes. To both. He told me he was moving this morning before our run. I asked 'why.' He said he met someone. I asked her name, and he said 'she's a he.' I was stunned."

"What's his name?"

"I do not know. I did not ask."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Your best friend tells you he's leaving town for a man and you don't think to ask the man's name?"

"I guess not."

I thought I heard the word "narcissist" as she walked away. It would not have been the first time she referred to me as one. It was not a compliment. The tension between us was real. We had drifted from each other, bound together at this point by Chet and by the promises we had made when we married each other.

Our marriage was only a shadow of what it once was. Like I said, we were rarely sexual. When we were, it was always initiated by me, and it was rote.

Our disinterest in sex carried over to our daily lives. We lived together, but we were leading separate lives. We shared an interest in our son, but in virtually nothing else. What she did not give to Chet, she gave to her friend Gillian (with a hard "G," which intentionally refused to pronounce). What I did not give to Chet, I have to Randy.

*****

Six of us from the gym went out to bid Randy farewell. He was not leaving for 2.5 months, so this was the beginning of what we affectionately called "Long's long good-bye."

The evening ended early. All but Randy had a family or a wife to whom they needed to get home.

I drove Randy to his building. He invited me in for a "final final." Randy had a terrific view of downtown from his balcony, and we sipped scotch and smoked cigars while we enjoyed it.

Out of the blue, Randy asked if I had enjoyed gay sex when I was doing it.

"Some parts," I responded, truthfully.

"Like what?"

"Well . . . . I liked getting blown. Mace gave better head than any girl I have ever had. And, I liked fucking him. He was so smooth and so tight."

"Spoken like a true straight."

"How so?"

"Of course you liked getting blown and fucking."

"Do you not?"

"Of course. Every guy does. But, I would rather blow someone than get blown. And, I'd rather get fucked than fuck."

"Well, we would be perfect together, then."

"Should we find out?"

The move finally made, my mouth went dry. Not waiting for an answer, Randy stood and held out his hand to me. I felt like a recovering alcoholic, tempted after so many years to take that first drink again. I had long wanted Randy, and he was right there in front of me, offering himself to me, an open bottle of bourbon.

I tried to resist, but I could not. I put my hand in his and let him lead me to his room.

He reached into the bathroom and flipped the switch, which lit his bedroom just enough hat I could see. When he returned, I could not move. I was mesmerized. I watched him undress. As he stared into my eyes, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and opened it, revealing that matted chest I for so long had longed to touch.

Without removing his shirt completely, he unbuttoned his jeans, opened them, and let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and then used his feet to pull each sock off.

"Oh my God," I said, as he stood before me in white boxer briefs and an open plaid shirt. "You look like a model. You do not look real."

"I'm very real," he said, walking toward me as he pulled his arms from his shirt and dropped it to the floor.

I started to unbutton my shirt, but Randy took over. He kept staring into my eyes as he unbuttoned and opened my shirt. As he licked and sucked my chest, he opened my jeans and lowered them past my hips. He made his way down me, lowering my jeans as he placed his hot mouth on my hard dick through my boxers. I lowered my boxers and stepped out of my jeans. When I did, Randy wrapped his mouth around me. I looked down and watched him suck me. I moved my hands to his blond hair and matched his rhythm. I watched myself fuck his face.

"Oh, Jesus," I said. "I am going to come."

Rather than pull off, Randy added his hand and took me over the edge in his mouth. I bent over and braced myself against his shoulders as he drained all I had to give.

It had been too long. I dove on Randy's dick, sucking him as he sat on the floor. He added his hand and I moved my mouth with it. I was too excited to read the signs, and I was startled when I heard him grunt and start to come in my mouth. I gagged a little as I tried to swallow and keep going. I pulled off, and Randy finished against my chest.

We moved to the bed. Randy ate my ass while he waited for me to bounce back. I writhed under his rough, wet tongue.

Randy sheathed and lubed me and then insisted I take him on his back. I slid easily into him and started greedily fucking him. He hooked his hands under his knees and pulled his legs toward his chest. When he did, I penetrated him as deeply as I could. I was in to the base when I came, shuddering and sweaty. Randy came, too, coating his chest and stomach with thick, bright white fluid.

"I always wondered what that would be like," he said, after I slipped out of him and removed the condom.

"How was it?" I asked.

"Worth the wait."

"I wish we had not waited," I admitted.

"Me, too. If you had said something sooner, I might not be moving to New Mexico."

"You would. I am married."

"Right."

I announced I needed to get going, tugged on my boxers, and went to the bathroom. When I returned, my jeans and shirt were folded on the bed, and my socks were in my shoes. I dressed and headed for the door.

"Hey," Randy called out from the kitchen. "Hold on a second."

I turned and waited at the door. "We're doing this kind of backward," he said. "But, if we don't kiss, then this is only going to some kind of wham bam fuckfest, and I want it to be more than that."

He kissed me. I kissed him back, pulling him into me as hard as I could.

Our eyes were open as we kissed. I left without saying a word.

We stopped running and working out. Instead of meeting Randy at the gym or the park, I went to his building and to his room. He sucked my dick and I sucked his. I fucked him, but he never fucked me. He never even broached the topic.

We stopped using condoms. Randy wanted to feel me spill in him, and I stupidly thought I was safe if I was the one doing the fucking.

A month later, we were madly in love with each other. It was like it had been with Mace. I was happiest when my head was on his chest. I liked listening to his heart beat. I liked his hand in my hair.

I found every reason to find myself with him. We went away for a fly fishing weekend. Our lines never got wet. We were working out and running relentlessly, but we both gained weight.

A month after that, Randy offered to stay in Denver. "Just say the word," he said.

I should have. I did not. As with Mace, I just could not.

Thwarted by my fear, Randy moved the following Saturday to be with Matt, the "someone" he had mentioned at the start of our trip. My family was with me to say good-bye. Susan went first. Randy insisted that she make me be good. I thought she had no idea he had made me be bad.

Chet went second. They both cried as they hugged. Randy and Chet had long shared a special bond. Chet referred to Randy as his "best friend, besides my dad."

I went last. Randy whispered "I love you" in my ear. I should have said "I love you, too," but I did not. I said "sure" instead. I could see that Randy was wounded when I pulled away.

As I drove my family home, I thought we had gotten away with everything. We had been discreet, and Susan seemed none the wiser.

I thought wrong. Susan suprised me that night in bed. "You broke your promise, didn't you?"

"No," I lied.