"God, just let him get back to me in one piece, please!" I would never ask for anything else. It was the plea, the bargain, the mantra I kept repeating in my head during the nine months my husband, Liam had been deployed in Iraq.
He did come back in one piece – the wound in his left leg would take months to recover from and bound him to a wheelchair and therapy, but he was back. In a way, I knew something was off the moment I saw him exiting the airport. Something was missing and the man who whispered promises of return in my ear nine months ago was not the man who got back. He flinched at my touch at best and looked right through me at worst.
I knew I had to be patient, to give him time to put what he saw and what still haunted him behind. And at first, I was the ray of sunshine, the support, the ever-forgiving. It didn’t take long until I started to disappear, too. My smile was all grimacing, my eyes sad, and even the way I moved was tired. I dragged through the days alongside the man, who used to be able to tell something was bothering me with just a glance.
It was the second day of our stay at the "Paradise" resort. It offered mineral water treatments and physiotherapy, so I thought the procedures and the change of pace would help us get out of this stupor we floated in for what seemed like forever. It didn’t. The happy laughter and splashing coming from the pool were a constant reminder of our own silence. Curled on a balcony chair, I stared at the people enjoying the sun outside.
The loneliness during the months he was away was now replaced with a different one, and it pierced me to the bone. We lay in the same bed at night, but we could have been on different continents for all it mattered. Always vanilla in my tastes, I found myself trying all I could think of out of my comfort zone – skimpy baby doll dresses, which made me blush just looking at, lingerie that left little to the imagination, going down on him while his eyes were still heavy with sleep. He just wasn’t there, I wasn’t there.
Desperate to elicit a reaction, any reaction, from him, I was even ready to share him, to bring another person into what was the most personal act I could imagine. This so-called vacation of ours was the perfect opportunity; we were away from anyone and everything we knew, so we could leave what happened here behind us when we left, regardless of how it went.
The woman who responded to my Internet ad was about to arrive any minute now, and I was a ball of nervous energy. Could I actually do this? Would I be able to bare myself in such a way? I wasn’t sure, but I had to try before my marriage became another statistic.
The knock on the door was barely there, yet it made me jump. It was showtime. A woman in her early twenties, almost a girl, stood in front of me and introduced herself as Astrid.
"Hello, Astrid. I’m Faith and this is my husband, Liam." I gestured toward him, still sitting in his wheelchair, not even glancing in our direction, and led Astrid to the canopy bed in the center of the room.
She sat down in the center and took my hand in hers. Leaning down, I took a breath of her hair, slid my nose down her cheek, and placed a soft kiss on her lips. I had never been particularly interested in same-sex experiments, so I wasn’t quite sure how this would go. Seeing Liam’s eyes focusing on us instantly, however, gave me the courage to slide my hands down Astrid’s throat, then past her shoulders, pushing the straps of her maxi dress down. She wasn’t wearing a bra, rosy nipples peaked over milky skin, and I couldn’t help but admire the flawless view. The buds were not hard, though, and her hands were now fidgeting with the duvet beneath her. She was nervous. For a moment I wondered what brought this inexperienced girl into our bed, and what did she need the money for, but then quickly pushed the thought away. I couldn’t afford to dwell on her misery. I had my own to deal with and it was staring stoically at both of us.
I wanted Liam to have a good look at what was going on, so I didn’t push Astrid on her back. Instead, I knelt in front of her, mimicking her posture. With the knuckles of my hand, I traced the outlines of her breasts, circling closer and closer to her nipples without actually touching them. I ran my fingertips from her lips, down her throat, along the small molds of her breasts, and back again, until I could hear her breathing becoming heavier and heavier with anticipation. Then, slowly and painstakingly, I outlined the contour of each pinky tip, my touch as light as a butterfly, as reverent as a whisper. Her breath hissed, and I deliberately slowed down, even more, catching each nipple between my thumb and forefinger but not rolling or pulling.
My lazy exploration was doing what I wanted it to do. Astrid placed her hand over my fingers and squeezed them around her nipples. I let her apply just the right amount of pressure she craved until her back arched in pleasure. Only then did I bare myself, not bothering to unclasp the bralette I had on, I just pushed it down until my breasts sprang out. Astrid’s lips parted and I slid my forefinger inside. Her tongue twisted around it and she sucked, providing the lubrication I needed. I ran the same finger down her nipples, and then on mine. Grabbing my tits with both hands, I pushed them over hers. The friction was delicious—skin over skin, nipple over nipple, breath over breath.
The way her hands were gravitating toward my pussy, I could tell she was ready for more. I was, however, not going to put my mouth on her or let her do the same to me. If this worked the way I wanted it to work, I didn’t want Liam to taste another woman on my lips.
"Touch yourself," I urged her.
She looked hesitantly first at me, then at my husband. Her legs stretched and parted. She bared her thighs, gathering the dress around her waist, but her hand hesitated over her underwear. I could tell this wasn’t how she imagined this would go and wasn’t sure what to do, so I went behind her and let her back fall over my chest. With one hand I started teasing her nipple again while I placed the other over hers and guided it to push her lacy panties aside. When our fingers ran over her clit and down her folds, her legs parted even more. Lubricating them as much as possible, I pushed one of her fingers and one of mine inside. She cried out and her hips jumped forward. Holding her in place, I pushed the next fingers, teasing her clit every time our hands moved in and then out.