Warren and I ate dinner in strained silence, for I'd given up on trying to make conversation. My husband was far more interested in refilling his glass of Cabernet than he was in talking to me. His expression was dour, and as I regarded him, I wondered how a man could appear to age so much in just a few weeks.
It had been this way since his company had decided to lay off a significant number of employees. Warren had nothing to do with that decision; it came from higher up the corporate ladder. But he was the one who had to sit down with people he'd worked with for years, people he considered good friends, and let them know they were out of a job. Some of them grew furious at Warren, and a few broke down and cried.
I knew the guilt was eating him up inside, and on top of that, he was stressed from trying to do his job with a much smaller workforce. He'd always been lean, but I noticed he now looked gaunt. His blond hair seemed to have grayed overnight. Dark circles beneath his eyes revealed how little sleep he got, and I worried about his drinking, which had never been an issue before.
I'd done all I could think of to be supportive: I'd offered to listen, and I'd given him space. I'd tried to be affectionate and had gotten the cold shoulder in return. We'd been married almost twenty years, but this was the first time I'd ever felt such a profound distance between us. Part of me feared it wasn't simply due to his job. Maybe he was dissatisfied with his entire life. We were well into our forties, which seemed like the time for him to have a mid-life crisis. Did he no longer find me as attractive now that I had crow's feet and needed to dye my dark hair in order to hide the gray? He used to make a point to tell me I was gorgeous, but now he barely touched me.
Setting down my fork with a poise that belied my growing anxiety, I said, "I think we need to talk."
Warren took another swallow of wine before replying, "No, Daphne, we do not."
"You can't keep shutting me out! Now, I understand you're dealing with a lot at your job—"
"Do you?" he snapped. His blue eyes flashed with an anger I'd rarely seen. "I've spent the last fifteen years busting my ass to make this company thrive, and now it's all falling apart! Do you honestly think you can understand how that feels?"
I recoiled from his venomous tone. It was true that I didn't feel the same passion for my own job; it was simply a way for me to pay the bills and save for retirement, which I hoped to take early. But I resented him implying that I couldn't at all empathize with what he was now experiencing.
My own anger got the better of me as I pushed my chair back from the table. "You know what? You're right. We don't need to talk while you're being a condescending asshole!"
Warren stood at the same time I did. "Daphne, wait." His gaze filled with pleading as he held out a hand. "You're absolutely right; I'm being an asshole. And I'm sorry."
I shook my head. "Don't apologize. Just tell me how I can help you."
He ran a hand through his hair, appearing at a loss. But then he gave me a strange smile, one that made him look both sheepish and sly. "You want to know how you can help me?" His voice dropped to a murmur, as if he were about to reveal a secret.
"Of course!" Planting my palms on the table, I eagerly leaned forward.
Warren lifted an eyebrow before folding his arms over his chest. "You can piss on me."
For a long moment, I simply stared at him. Was he joking? He had to be, I told myself. Finally, I snickered and said, "Very funny."
"I'm serious, Daphne." His smile now faded altogether. "I want you to degrade me. Take me down a notch. Punish me for being an asshole to you, and for still having a fucking job when so many of my friends don't!"
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to lose my patience. "You're being ridiculous, Warren. You have to let go of this guilt, okay? The layoffs weren't your fault. No one blames you for—"
"You asked how you could help me, and I told you. End of discussion." He picked up his glass and downed the rest of the wine in a few gulps. His face had once again taken on that distant look, bordering on coldness. When he started to push in his chair, I felt a panic growing within me, for I couldn't bear to spend another evening like this.
"Don't you walk away from me!" As I strode toward my husband, he watched me in obvious surprise. Had he honestly thought I wouldn't fight for him? For us? Grabbing him roughly by the chin, I allowed my nails to dig into his flesh. "You want me to piss on you? Fine! I'll do it, but only because I love you so much, you idiot!"
Warren grinned at my words, and the moment I released him, he lowered his lips to mine, giving me a fierce kiss. It was hard to stay angry when he embraced me with such longing. For weeks now, I'd ached for his touch.
"Thank you," he said softly, weaving his fingers through my hair. As our eyes locked, I could sense his anticipation building. "While I'm clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen, I want you to get busy drinking plenty of water."
"I don't think that's necessary," I started to protest, but Warren kissed me yet again.
"Humor me," he said, flashing that same smile. "Your bladder needs to be nice and full."
A few minutes later, I stood in the kitchen, practically gulping water from a large glass, while Warren loaded the dishwasher. Despite all my bravado at the dining room table, I'd begun to feel a little nervous. "So we're really going to do this," I said. Part of me still expected him to announce that he'd been joking, after all, but another part of me knew better.
"I certainly hope we're going to do this." Warren started wiping down the countertop, appearing perfectly composed. Glancing over at me, he grinned and said, "We were pretty wild in bed when we first got married. We've done kinkier things than this."
That was debatable, I thought. "But we've never done anything so... dirty."
"Who knows? You might like getting dirty." Drying his hands on a dishtowel, he looked at the glass I held. "Do you need more water?"
"No," I immediately responded. "I can't drink any more right now."
Warren closed the distance between us before nuzzling my neck with his lips. "And is all that water having the desired effect?"
"I mean, I could definitely pee." This was such a strange conversation to be having, even with the man who knew me better than anyone else. We'd always been comfortable around each other when it came to bodily functions, but this was on another level entirely.
He took my glass and placed it on the counter. "Would you say it's reaching the point of being an emergency?"
"No, and I don't want it to get that way, either!" My voice held a hint of indignation that didn't escape his notice, yet he only laughed before cupping his hand against the back of my head and drawing me to him for a deep, sensual kiss. I moaned while practically melting against him, and the moment he slid his fingers between my thighs to tease me through my clothing, I gave his bottom lip a gentle bite. After he broke the kiss, we were both breathing faster. "Let's do this," I told him firmly.
In the bathroom, Warren and I hurried to get undressed. Gazing at his naked frame, I saw he was already semi-erect. Aside from whatever bizarre absolution he sought from this act, he was clearly aroused by it as well.
Before climbing into the tub, he paused for a moment, letting his stare sweep over me. His eyes revealed a fierce heat that I hadn't seen in some time. "My beautiful wife!" he sighed in appreciation. "I'm one lucky man."