Larry was tasteful enough to take his time fetching after-romance refreshments. My wife and I had time to debrief each other on what just happened.
I began by asking her why she chose this moment to introduce another person into our marriage.
I asked a simple, “Jessica, tell me how this happened?”
She had a ‘who’ answer, in “Jack. You have talked about, fantasized and drove me into a frenzy thinking about fucking somebody else. The ‘when, why, who and where’ were my responsibility.”
I followed up with “So you decided that it would be here, in our bed?”
Jessica responded, “Yes. I decided my second deflowering would be in my/our bed.”
I followed up, the Who? right away. I did not want to wait for the rest of the answers. I needed Jessica’s reasons without alternate realities.
She was honest, “Larry was convenient, handsome, available and a nice guy. I thought you and he would form some kind of bond.”
The words ‘some kind of bond’ hit me just as Larry arrived with refreshments from my kitchen.
He was wearing my bathrobe and looked better, slimmer in it than I looked. He had purloined our best silver serving tray, carrying crystal water glasses with iced water, our pipe, his handkerchief with a razor and hash, plus our finest cloth napkins. A small vase with just-cut flowers from of Jessica’s garden completed the ensemble.
I thought, “Is he trying to form ‘some kind of bond’ with my wife or with me or both? Hhmmm?”
In movies and plays, blocking is paramount. So now as well. A videographer’s lens at the end of the bed would have shown three people sitting up in the same bed, with Jessica in the middle. When one of us spoke, he/she would speak to our duvet-covered toes, not directly to the addressee. To talk to anyone directly, one must turn one’s head this way or that.
Larry lit the pipe with enough for three good hits, toked and passed it to middle seated Jessica. She inhaled the littlest bit and passed it to me.
“Partake,” she told me.
I did a long one and exhaled.
Larry mused, “You know the derivation of the phrase ‘one off’?
I nodded and knew what was to come.
Ever the hostess, Jessica took the bait, asking, “So what is a one off to you, Larry?”
I knew, “Here comes Larry’s lecture to spoil the whole show! No matter, we can save the extra shrimp and dessert for ourselves for later. He’s gonna be out of our life soon.”
He began, “It’s British for ‘one of a kind’, like hitting the lottery or being best man at a wedding. It happens once and you’re off!”
The videographer would zoom in and see Larry turning to Jess and asking, “Do you want this to be a one off or can it be better?”
The camera would see Jess looking right back at Larry.
She replied, “It could be more, but my husband has a voice in it also.”
Jessica turned to me, “This was your idea in the first place. Larry and I accommodated you. You did like it, didn’t you?”
I tilted my head toward her and agreed, “Oh yes. I loved it. Neither of us will be quite the same. It was hot, really hot.”
None of this trio would be gauche enough to call the next few seconds as a pregnant pause. However, silence filled the room as the water glasses were drained, as each of us stalled. Would this be a one-off?
Finally, Larry leaned forward enough to look me in the eye and dropped the bomb.
“Jack. We both saw how much Jess enjoyed this. I had a good time, too. So did you!”
I guessed correctly that Larry’s dare was coming. “I could rise and leave right now, but Jess will find somebody else to take my place. You guys are in another lifestyle now. One I know well. Let’s NOT make this a one off. Please?”
Jessica settled it by not settling it.
She turned back to me, “Jack. I’m not sure. I do know I am not finished for this evening. It is still early.”
Larry put his hand on Jess’s leg and squeezed. He leaned in and whispered something into her ear.
My wife nodded and turned to me, “I want to be alone with Larry. Take the tray back downstairs and start dinner. You can boil the pasta, zest the lemons, peel the now-defrosted shrimp. You can leave our door open, but I want you to respect my privacy.”
“Wow!” is all that came out of my mouth.
I felt the slight nudge, not a push out of my bed, but Jessica was dead serious.
They took a long time up there. Enough time for me to set the table for a one course Lemon Shrimp Scampi dinner for three. I opted to include some home-baked bread. I prepared an Entrée that could be served in a few secs.
An hour and a half later, they came down the stairs holding hands and giggling.
My first thought, “At least they are still dressed!”
Jess came over to me and kissed me passionately.
She whispered, “Save yourself for later. You need to reclaim me before midnight or I am his forever. At least, that’s what Larry told me to tell you. Also, we used the computer upstairs to tell you a lot of what we did. You can’t read that until we’ve had dessert and Larry is gone.”
More passionate kissing, this time with Jessica tweaking my tit and rubbing my groin, with Larry watching.
Dinner was interesting. We used the same now washed and re-used water goblets. No to more to alcohol or pot. The conversation never got specific as to what exactly happened upstairs. The only raunchy part was when he admitted one of his hobbies was writing porn.
Tabletalk was about our jobs, career growth, travel, and gardening. We three wisely stayed away from politics and what went on upstairs for almost two hours.
Larry owned three fast-food franchises. He declined to tell us which brand.
He cautioned, “Regardless of what happens next, if I tell you guys, you may never eat at my places again!”
I interpreted the reference to ‘what happens next’ as a covert way of making this more than a one off.
While I chewed on that, I learned that, like most well-off people, he keeps a vintage sports car in his garage, travels overseas and is a good cook.
He said, “I am too modest to say ‘gourmet,’ but I attended cooking school instead of college. That is where I decided my career. My parents left me enough to start my first franchise, and it did well enough to acquire two more.”
We three could have been in a restaurant, dining as old friends. An observer might have been unsure who the third wheel in the group was, but I soldiered through, being a good host.
Then he was gone.
Jessica snuggled up to me as the door shut behind Larry.
She bent my ear and spoke, “I’ll do all the cleaning up in the kitchen, and tiding up down here. You can have whatever you want to smoke or drink, but I expect to be reclaimed before midnight.”
“On the bed, you will find a letter. Read it before I get upstairs,” were her final words.
Dear Jack,
Thank you for giving me this. You are right, it did change us, and I want it to be for the better. You can help.
To make that happen, I am sharing as much as we can remember. With so much smoke and drink, memories do get fuzzy.
Larry gave me a present. I will model for you later tonight.