Don't Judge A Book Part 2 Chapter 24 free porn video

Tuesday 19th June 2018, morning, rushing to work

I was in a strange place mentally as I drove across town heading to my first meeting of the day. My mind, still full of the sights and sounds of an unforgettable Monday evening at Malcolm’s house. An evening that started with a fairly conventional conversation and meal, punctuated only by Jill sneaking off to the kitchen for some kissing and make-out time with her new lover. But which had ended up with a three-way sex festival that had left sights and sounds imprinted on my brain and eyeballs that I’d not forget until the day I died.

When the three of us had untangled our sweaty and post-orgasmic bodies from the DP sandwich Malcolm had instigated, he’d smiled at me and promised we were ‘gonna have some fun’ before the night was done. And that’s certainly how things played out, providing me with a much better night than at times I’d feared.

A night which had just gotten better and better after I’d declined Jill’s offer that we head home as the best way of fixing my funk. Instead, deciding to take more of an active role, culminating in me pleasuring Jill with my fingers and mouth before handing her across to the six-seven man-mountain who’d given her a good fucking before taking Jill upstairs and introduced her to the pleasure of DP's.

After our initial shared three-way climax, the rest of the evening had passed in a whirl of bacchanalian lust, as yours truly enjoyed the perfect mix of voyeuristic pleasure blended with being one of the cool kids when the mood took me. Quietly watching from the sidelines as Jill and Malcolm disappeared into the shower for some sudsing fun which soon developed into another stand-up fuck session, as Malcolm first finger-fucked my wife in the shower before bouncing her up and down on his huge cock.

The sexual pleasure they were giving each other only visible to me through the outlines of their thrusting and writhing bodies, the steamy shower glass obscuring the detail. Making it look like some latter-day X-rated knock-off of a French Impressionist masterpiece, all blurred edges and impressions rather than vivid clear detail.

When Malcolm had finally opened the shower door to reveal the detail, I’d been greeted by a beaming Jill as she clung to her lover’s ebony body as he carried her back to bed, balls deep and happily impaled on his nine-inch cock. Throwing her down and then carrying on where he’d left off. Fucking her roughly in missionary for a few minutes, before smiling at me and making Jill kneel on the carpeted floor so he could fuck her doggy style. Telling me in no uncertain terms, “Hell, Dave. She’s got such great titties, it would be a crime against humanity not to watch them swing as I fuck her.” And fuck her was exactly what he did.

Watching Jill’s big tits swinging back and forth in time with Malcolm’s deep and savage thrusts had soon awoken my own cock and, without speaking, the way I lubed my cock and lay back on the bed told Malcolm exactly what I wanted. Jill wobbling on her shaky legs as Malcolm helped her to her feet as she looked at my cock and the lube.

“Shit, what have I let myself in for. You two boys are going to fuck me to death before the night’s through. Hell, I might not be walking for a month when the two of you are done with me.” Her smile had told me she wasn’t upset at the prospect, no doubt like me happy that the evening was working out a whole lot better than had looked the case half-way through.

This little three-person friendship pact had ended up with all three of us coming together again in a crescendo of noise that could have woken the dead, with me and Jill again realizing just how heavy Malcolm was as his excitement made him forget the need to be careful and support most of his own weight.

Jill and Malcolm’s trip to the shower afterward had been a little more sedate second time around. The sudsing more gentle and more about really getting clean than the last time. Full-on fucking and cries of ecstasy replaced by long and tender kisses and quiet murmurs of pleasure from Jill. In some ways even more painful and arousing for her cuckold husband to watch. The perfect dessert to accompany the earlier main course of black salami she’d enjoyed, with a side order of white chipolata I’d offered into the mix.

This time when the two of them had emerged from the shower, they’d opted to continue their lovers’ closeness, happy to just lie body-to-naked body on the bed, head-to-head, the moments a mix of kisses and gazing into each other’s eyes. My heart and nerves finding this even more difficult and bittersweet than almost anything else I’d seen earlier in the evening. I’d given Jill a gentle kiss to reassure her I was alright, and then I’d headed downstairs to make myself a drink. Having felt awkward being in the same room as two of them when they were sharing a time like this, so clearly meant for two, not three.

I’d then stayed downstairs for some time, nosing my way through some of the Army photos on Malcolm’s shelves and walls and seeing what books he had, feeling a lot happier about things. Malcolm seemed a nice guy, nicer than I’d expected, and I’d found myself hearing Veronica’s words in my head again. About how he was a sensitive and thoughtful lover and boyfriend, and how she wished they’d never broken up.

But as ever in my new lifestyle, the knowledge that he was a nice guy carried the cut and the danger of a double-edged sword. It meant we could have fun nights like this, just as we’d had with Chris in the early days. But that there was a heightened risk that Jill might fall for the guy, just as she’d fallen for Chris. Although I’m not sure many people would describe Chris as ‘a nice guy’, it was more his blend of charisma tinged with arrogance and animal magnetism that had done for Jill.

The evening had ended for me as I realized it was getting late, I’d finished my drink and headed back up the stairs. From the sounds wafting down the stairs I’d been pretty sure I knew what I was going to find. And I’d not been disappointed as this time I was greeted by the sexy and beautiful tableau of my beautiful wife’s big boobs and shapely body slowly and luxuriantly riding up and down on Malcolm’s big cock. His dark hands alternately holding her hips to help her or sometimes cupping and squeezing at the beautiful fruits that were her tits.

Even though I’d just been thinking of Chris, which always brought back all my fears and worries, I’d known what I was going to say to Jill. As I kissed her softly, told her to enjoy herself and said that I’d see her back home in the morning. Jill had just smiled at me, happy that I was in a good place, given me a goodnight kiss and then as I’d headed down the stairs she’d returned her attentions to the man who was deep in her body.

*

All of these sights, sounds and memories had played themselves back to me as I drove across town the next morning. I knew that I had a busy morning ahead of me, and even though I enjoyed them, part of me wished I’d been better able to concentrate on work stuff. But this new lifestyle that Jill and I had discovered had a unique way of edging other parts of our life from center stage to the side wings. The emotional and physical experiences we were bringing into our everyday lives were too powerful to be happy playing second string to anyone or anything.

I just about managed to hit sixty percent concentration during my first meeting. My brain trying to decode why, contrary to my expectations, I’d not seen Jill back home before I’d headed to work. I’d assumed that before she headed to work she’d need to come home to get a change of clothes and pack her bags for L.A. But by the time I left for work, there was no sign of Jill and so twenty minutes into my first meeting I’d finally given in and sent her a brief text, trying to sound as chilled and relaxed as I’d been the night before.

‘Hi, honey. Missed you this morning. All okay? D xxx’

I was heartened that I got a reply from Jill almost immediately.

‘Sorry, darling. Our host from last night was reluctant to let me out of his bed this morning. Ended up running late. Will call you at lunchtime. Thanks for a great night. Love you always J xx’

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, feeling a mix of hurt and cuck pleasure that Jill had prioritized more time in bed with her new man overseeing her husband before she flew out to L.A. later today.

*

I did get the promised call from Jill, but it was a call that set a number of alarm bells ringing in my head. Jill always knew my calendar, being the great P.A. she was, she’d managed to synch up my company calendar with her Gmail so even though she was outside our company system she could see when I was busy or not. And her call had come just minutes after my eleven to twelve call ended. Her voice was a little breathless and on edge, but I could tell she was trying to sound as breezy and relaxed as possible.

She apologized for last night and rapidly turned the topic onto an email she’d had from Becky’s mum about some last-minute issues to do with the upcoming wedding. I knew Jill well enough to know she was hiding something which gave me a nervous feeling in my gut, these last few months teaching me there’s almost nothing worse than knowing there’s some bad news coming but not knowing what it is.

I was just about to try and find a semi-diplomatic way to ask Jill what it was she wasn’t telling me, when the mystery explained itself. Jill was still talking I heard in the background the automated ‘welcome and buckle up’ announcement of an American Airlines flight, just as I heard a firm but polite voice ask Jill to switch her phone off as they were about to take off.

“Jill, I thought you were going on the evening flight. You know, the one that gets you in around ten p.m.,” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

“No baby, we never talked about a flight time,” she immediately came back with, her voice light and sure sounding.

“Jill, I distinctly remember talking about it, because I said I wanted to go together on the Wednesday evening flight, and you said you thought the Tuesday evening flight was better, and then started telling me all about Malcolm’s dinner invite.” I was absolutely certain she’d been planning to use the evening flight and I felt let down and hurt.

There was a pause on the other end of the line and I got the distinct idea Jill was trying to work out what to say. How to explain away saying Tuesday evening when trying to sell me the idea, but having got my tacit agreement then booking herself on a flight that would get there an extra half-day earlier. Turning one day when she was alone with Chris into a day-and-a-half. Maybe not a big deal in different circumstances, but to me, a huge deal given I’d not been happy about one day, and now Jill had by a sly sleight of hand added an extra fifty percent on top of that.

Finally, she spoke, her voice a mix between nervous and apologetic.

“Sorry, honey. I must have forgotten to mention it. When I got around to booking the flights, it seemed more sensible to go on the lunchtime flight, as Chris and I have so much to do. We were both so busy yesterday, I just plain forgot to tell you. Sorry, honey. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

I was just about to speak when Jill cut across me. “Sorry, darling. I’ve really got to switch off now otherwise I’m going to be in trouble. I promise you I’ll call the moment I land in L.A. and we can straighten things out. Love you, honey, always.”

*

As the line went dead I had a horrible thought, how this was the third thing Jill hadn’t been totally upfront with me recently. None of the three times in themselves big, although I think taking Luther’s job offer without discussion was pretty big, but taken together it was a worrying pattern. The dinner with Malcolm, taking the job offer, and now the changed flight times.

After everything that had happened, although I didn’t believe Jill would hide a big thing from me, these little evasions and half-deceits gnawed away at my mind and confidence. It wasn’t a good feeling and I knew I’d have to wait for Jill’s call until I could restore any peace of mind.

All through my afternoon meetings and calls, my mind was full of images from Jill’s time with Chris. From the early days, from their time together in England when they kept Gemma and me company and lived as man and wife for the duration of the break, from the end days when it had all gone so horribly wrong.

I tried to concentrate on more positive thoughts, from my last conversation with Chris, and from when Jill had returned to me after she’d rejected Chris’s request that she go and live with him in California. But it was just too hard, the twin facts of not seeing Jill this morning and then her suddenly moving her flight up was just too much for me to remain on an even keel. I ended up canceling my last two calls of the day. I knew they were important and that I was in so fit state to play the role I needed to.

Instead, I headed home early to beat the traffic, checked the flight times and waited for Jill to ring me, knowing her flight would land around five-thirty.

You can’t believe how happy I felt as I heard my phone ring and saw the magic digits flashing on the screen: ‘Jill cell.’

I felt a confusing mix of emotions. Euphoria at knowing I’d be able to hear Jill’s voice and get a better handle on what had happened, but balanced by a clanging fear at what surprises she might spring on me.

My flight tracker told me Jill’s flight had only just landed, giving me a warm and happy feeling inside that at least this time she stayed true to her word and rang me the moment she landed.

“Hi, honey,” Jill’s cheery voice greeted me, as if there was nothing wrong and our last words hadn’t been an argument about her misleading me on her flight time.

“Hi, babe.”

“Honey, I’m sorry if I forgot to tell you about the flight. During the flight, I was thinking back and you’re right, we did talk about an evening flight. I’m really sorry I forgot to tell you about booking an afternoon flight instead. But with everything going on I just forgot. Everything’s been so crazy recently. Honey, I am really sorry. I know these things are really hard for you these days. Forgive me, babe?”

I took a deep breath. ‘These things are really hard for you these days’ – that’s what she’d said, and I couldn’t disagree. But I had a sinking feeling, wondering if everything in our life was now viewed through the lens of our new lifestyle. Through the lens of hurt and likelihood of pain or of how things might develop with whichever man Jill might be talking to, smiling at or just even thinking about.

I was lost in my thoughts and Jill was waiting for my response. “I forgive you, honey.”

“Thanks,” I could hear the relief in her voice. “I hate it when I do anything that hurts you, sweetheart. I’m so lucky that you’re happy for me to have this fun. That you enjoy it so much too. But it kills me inside if I get it wrong and it hurts you.”

I could hear the thoughts in her mind. The words she was thinking but leaving unsaid, too painful to be said out loud. ‘… Like when I fell in love with Chris, and just for a moment thought about leaving you for him…’

“What’s done is done,” I replied, my customary stoic coping mechanism kicking in. And then I took another deep breath and came to the thing that I’d been thinking about almost non-stop during the five hours of Jill’s flight. The thing I had to say to her which I hoped she’d take the way I intended. As a practical step and open communication between us, not something that would make her feel insulted and untrusted.

“Jill, baby. I’ve been thinking. While you’re there, I know you have to work with Chris. That’s fine. But I don’t know what you were thinking about other stuff. You know, given the history between you. Well, I’ve been thinking, and I think bearing in mind everything that’s happened the last day or so, what with not seeing you last night and you forgetting to tell me about the job… well, let’s just say I’m feeling a little fragile and I’m not sure I could cope with you and Chris hooking up again… even for old time’s sake… it might just be a bit much for me now.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Jill and I had never really set rules with this new lifestyle of ours. More we were just taking it a day at a time, but I’d always given her my permission and approval in the past. Like when she’d asked me if she could spend time with Josh and Freddy when I was away. So I hoped Jill would think what I was saying was reasonable, but with no clear ground rules, there was a risk of a blow-up. And the longer the silence went on, the more I was worried.

“Of course, sweetheart,” I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll not lie and say I’ve not thought about it. After everything that Chris and I had, of course, I’ve thought about it. But I know how what he tried to do, and how I really cut you up. And like I said, I love you babe and I hate to do absolutely anything that hurts you. So, of course, honey, if you don’t want anything to happen, that’s totally fine with me.”

“Thanks, honey,” my voice now a little flat from the emotional strain. “I love you too. I know we both love this new lifestyle. And I know we’re just learning, and we’ll be fine as long as we keep talking. And I really want this week to be about John and Becky and their special day. Not spoilt by some accidental blow out from our new secret lifestyle.”

Jill giggled.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

“You, babe. ‘Our new secret lifestyle’. You really think that? Secret apart from Charlotte, Callan and our daughter Abigail knowing all about it. Oh, and if Abigail knows, then I guess that means Sarah knows. And if Sarah knows, I guess that means John, and John means Becky, and if Becky knows there’s a fair chance her mum and dad Pamela and Dale know, but that’s okay coz they’re California folk so they probably think we’re fairly staid by California norms…”

Shit! Of course I knew that Abigail knew, and much of the rest I guess I wasn’t surprised at, but it had been something I’d tried to force to the back of my mind and forget. Because just as some might disapprove of Jill’s part in our new lifestyle, labeling her ‘a slut’, I’d be the one labeled worse and thought of worse.

It was one thing to be thought of and called a cuckold in the privacy of the bedroom and by people like Dee in the heat and passion of the games we played. It was quite another thing to be thought of that way by the wider community, by people who were friends and family or co-workers.

The thought hurt like hell. If I’d been honest with myself, it was also the most deliciously painful stiletto I’d yet felt of masochistic cuckold angst – but I was a long way from being that honest with myself right now. I even felt myself coloring up at the thought of the next time I shook Becky’s dad’s hand and what he might be thinking about me.

“Dave, Dave, sweetheart. Are you still there?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. My mind was somewhere else.”

Jill giggled again, but this time a softer and quieter giggle. “Don’t worry, honey. There’s plenty worse than us. And anyway, who cares what other people think. The only four people I care about don’t have a problem with it, so that’s good enough for me. It’s the twenty-first century and people lead all kinds of lives these days.”

Then another chuckle to herself before she continued. “I seem to remember our own daughter telling us ‘way to go’ and that she was proud we still had it in us.”

This wasn’t exactly the direction I’d planned for our conversation to go, so I gently nudged it back to topics less likely to induce a coronary in this slightly overweight fifty-one-year-old husband to a hotwife, which I thought was a better way to think of myself as an out-and-out cuckold.

Happy that my roadrunner feet were back the right side of the cliff-edge, my heart rate recovered to something less medically damaging and Jill and I finally wrapped up the conversation with her telling me she’d call me ‘after dinner’. I was pretty sure ‘dinner’ wouldn’t be alone, but with Jill having agreed with my request that nothing untoward would happen between her and Chris, I didn’t labor the point.

Insisting that Jill had a Room Service dinner while watching Sixty Minutes was the surest way imaginable to come across as the insecure husband (which of course I wasn’t) and drive her back into the arms of the man who’d wanted to take her away with him to California.

*

Feeling a little calmer and better about life (although not a hundred percent, Jill was too physically close to Chris for that) I settled in to look in the fridge and see what I might cook. Settling on an omelet with some fries and a couple of beers, which would go nicely with watching the Marlins-Giants game as a nice quiet, restorative way to spend the evening. Exactly what the doctor (and shrink) would have ordered given everything that had happened since Friday.

The game had just gotten to the bottom of the third when the doorbell sounded. Even though the previous days game had been a close one which we’d shaded by a single score, the Marlins were already down four to zero and I was fearful of how the rest of the game might go. So I wasn’t entirely displeased when I looked out and saw the familiar red 1974 Firebird and Callan standing there holding a six-pack and muttering the words ‘entry ticket.’

Now that he and Charlotte had finally called time on their recent attempt to put their marriage back together, he’d found himself at a loose end, and knowing from Charlotte that Jill was out of town he’d headed over to keep me company.

“Pity call, then,” I joked, taking the beers from him and handing one back as we sat and started watching the game.

After a brief uptick in the fourth when we brought it back to within one point, but then in the fifth, the Giants scored another two and Callan and I only kept half-an-eye on the game after that as we agreed we didn’t see the Marlins coming back from here, our prediction proving correct as the Marlins didn’t manage even one more run after the fourth.

Callan and I weren’t super close – I don’t think that would ever be possible after his earlier history with Jill – but we were close enough, and so we kicked around all the usual topics. How sales were doing in his firm, my upcoming trip to L.A. and whether or not I thought we’d end up paying the client compensation.

But as the conversation went on I sensed there was something else Callan wanted to discuss and I bided my time until he finally came out with it.

“Dave, we’re going to be together quite a bit over the weekend, at the wedding. And you know how much Charlotte and I love your kids, almost think of them as the kids we never had, how we love being Uncle Callan and Aunty Charlotte to them. Well, I’ve been doing some thinking, and there’s something I want to get off my chest, kinda clean slate before the wedding.”

By now my heart was truly thumping. What on earth could be so big that it needed this kind of build-up, what was it he needed to get off his chest having known me for so long. I felt a horrible pain in my gut, was there something between him and Jill that I didn’t know about?

“Dave, man, I have to tell you, deep in my heart, however much we’ve been friends, a little bit of me has always hated you and been suspicious of you. Do you remember all those years ago, when Jill and I had just split up and I was dating Charlotte? And do you remember the evening I came over to Jill’s place to see her but she wasn’t there, so I left a letter for her with Naomi.”

Now I’d gone from scared to plain confused. Why on earth was Callan spouting on about hating me and a letter from twenty plus years ago?

“I never told anyone this before, Dave, but a couple of days before Charlotte and I had a huge row, and it made me do a lot of soul-searching, and it made me realize I’d made a huge mistake and that I still loved Jill and wanted her back.”

All of a sudden it was becoming a lot clearer and I hated where this was leading.

“I knew I had to do something about it, I couldn’t go through life wondering what might have been. I knew I had no right to do it, after everything I’d put Jill through, but I did it anyway. I bared my soul, letting her know exactly how sorry I was for hurting her and that I hoped she could forgive me and have me back. I put it all down in that letter, hoping she’d read it and give me a second chance. But then after everything, Jill wasn’t there. It was only you and her friend Naomi in the house, and Jill never even said anything to me. Not one thing, not all these years. It was like she never even read the letter.”

In that moment a look passed between Callan and me. He didn’t have to spell it out. ‘Hated and suspicious’ were the words he’d used. He reckoned that I’d had something to do with Jill’s non-reply and failure to even acknowledge its contents or even Callan himself.

Going right back to childhood, I’ve never had much of a poker-face, but I put my best foot forward.

“Callan, you’ve got to remember, Jill was really, really hurt by what you did to her. You broke her heart, shattered it and stomped it into little pieces,” pausing to let my over the top words sink in, enjoying the guilty look on Callan’s face as the old adage that attack is the best form of defense played out.

“Callan, however you and I started out, I like to think we’ve become good friends over the years. Maybe we’re chalk and cheese, but we’ve become good friends. And look, the way I think about it, whatever happened twenty years ago, it’s all water under the bridge. If you’re saying you feel bad about that hate and suspicion, then thanks for being straight with me, but put your mind at rest, it’s all water under the bridge to me. We’re cool. Nothing to worry about that’s going to spoil Jon’s wedding.”

Callan had a strange look on his face. Part guilt from his confession, part relief that I bore no grudge, and part maybe a little disbelief at my response to the question he’d never quite had the courage to ask directly.

I slapped him on the back – told him again that it was all in the past as far as I was concerned, and turned to collect two more beers, wondering to myself what Callan really thought now.

*

Thursday 21st June 2018 - Breakfast

“How do you think the meeting will go today?” she asked.

It was good to be looking over the breakfast cups and plates at the beautiful woman who I called my wife. The woman whose love, warmth and humor had captivated me for so many years – the woman who was my best friend, lover and family partner all rolled into one.

“Good. I think it will be fine. I’ve kept close enough to the guys here and checked every little part of their work. This time, finally, I think they’ve got it right. They’ve still got plenty to do after today, it’s only the first check-point today but I think it will go fine.”

Jill smiled, happy at my news.

“What about you, honey? When are you going to tell Chris you’re leaving and ask him to waive the notice period?”

Her face showed this wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to having. “I’ll have to see. Yesterday he was too stressed out, and today doesn’t look much better. I’ll try and tell him today, or failing that I’ll tell him this evening.”

“This evening?” I parroted back, “I didn’t know we were seeing him this evening.” My voice light and breezy, trying not to let my slight annoyance show. The back of my mind thinking back to all of Jill’s recent half-truths.

“Sorry, honey. I must have forgotten to mention it. Chris asked if we could join him for dinner tonight. He said that after you and he had that good talk that maybe all three of us having dinner together would show there are no hard feelings. Help make sure there are no unresolved issues, that kind of thing...” Her voice trailing off, the slightly elevated pitch of her voice leaving me no doubt that she liked Chris’s offer.

I looked across at her, all kinds of thoughts going through my head. How I’d told her I was feeling too frail for her to have any type of physical time with Chris. How part of me wished for the much simpler life we’d had before we’d started playing these games. And maybe most of all, how even though he wasn’t physically present there at our breakfast table, Chris had somehow managed to elbow his way right into our happy little couple’s breakfast. Just as somehow he’d managed to elbow his way into the heart of our marriage after a single conversation all those months ago when Jill had opened up about our single experimentation with swinging.

As if on cue, Chris walked into the hotel restaurant, his big smug Senior VP smile amping up all of the negative thoughts I’d already been having. As he invited himself to join us, explaining he’d offered to give Jill a lift in, he was charm personified as he pressed all the right buttons. Asking me how I was, how I was set for my meetings and about the preparations for the wedding, and evening to sneak in a reference to our last conversation when he’d told me how jealous he was of me as I was the one who had Jill.

We only talked for maybe five or ten minutes, but by the end, my initial irritation at his smug grin had gone and I remembered how we’d managed to end up good friends, that is when he wasn’t busy screwing my wife and then inviting her to live with him in California.

Sensing my change of mood, he repeated his offer of treating Jill and me to dinner, waiting for my answer in such a way that it made it difficult for me to say no.

“Great, see you later, hope all goes well with your big meeting,” being his last words as ever the gentleman he allowed Jill to walk in front of him as they left the table and headed towards his car.

Just the smallest of details, but seeing the two of them walking away, backs towards me as they chatted caused a lump in my throat at the thought of what might have been. If Jill hadn’t changed her mind and told Chris that she wouldn’t leave me and live with him in California. Even this thought caused the symphony of voices at the back of my head to pipe up, about what a fool I was to treat Chris with such civility and to have accepted his offer of dinner.

*

The level of focus and attention I needed to apply to the client’s board meeting was my friend that morning as it forced me to forget all about Chris, Jill and Malcolm. If my meeting went South then I might be looking for a new job. I was confident in the content and accuracy of the revised modeling outputs we were presenting, but I was old enough to know this was only half the battle. The other half, was those three imponderables in any big meeting. How you told the story, how you built bridged and mini-alliances with the people around the table and just as important, how you reacted to the brickbats and snarky comments that were likely to be thrown in a recovery situation like this.

With so much on the line, I wasn’t planning to let the local guys who’d screwed up so badly do a whole lot of talking. In our final prep meeting the day before I’d told them that I’d field all the questions, and that they shouldn’t speak unless I specifically asked for their input, even if the client’s board asked one of them a specific question. They’d looked both hurt and angry at the straitjacket and lack of trust I was showing, but when I reminded them the size of the compensation bill we were looking at and what it would mean for their careers they soon buckled down.

The meeting itself went really well. We had a one-hour slot in a packed board agenda. It was originally scheduled for just before lunch, but ended up being two til three and it overran by a good half hour. But when we finally escaped the gladiatorial amphitheater, rode the elevator and emerged into the bright California summer I felt like a kid who had finished his college exams. I felt like throwing my mortarboard high into the air and whooping with joy, instead of having to settle for high-fives and a four-way happy and smiley conversation.

Despite the mid-afternoon hour, we felt like we’d more than earned it and so we found the nearest bar and I treated the guys to a couple of beers. They’d only seen my ‘I’m really pissed at you’ mean demeanor up until now, and I could see the tension and fear leave their bodies as they relaxed and enjoyed a far happier boss figure. I did remind them that we were only one month in and still had a couple of months to go before we could fully relax, but apart from this necessary reminder I was happiness and good humor personified.

As we got to the end of our second beers the conversation was running a bit low and I sensed that they would prefer it if their boss’s boss wasn’t there. So I told them that I needed to head back as my wife and I had plenty of wedding prep still to do, and I left them to it with the parting comment that they’d earned a good evening so they should make sure that one of them expensed the rest of the evening’s beer and food to my account. Strictly against company policy – but then I’d not been much of a one for rules and social norms these last few months.

Back at the hotel I hardly walked through the revolving door when I saw Jill and Chris sat together in the hotel bar, heads close together as they laughed about something or other and shared an end of day drink.

All my old insecurities came rushing back. In some ways, it seemed like a world ago since Chris had tried to steal Jill away from me. So much had happened since then. Freddy and Josh, then Luther, followed in short order by Dee and Veronica and now the latest bittersweet addictive cloud in Jill’s bed – Malcolm. When I thought about all this it seemed like two years, whereas in reality, it had only been two months.

My heart was pounding and the circular blender knives were whirring their happy little tune in my gut as I moved behind one of the lobby’s mandatory over-sized pot plants and watched the two of them. If watching Malcolm and Jill was like watching the early stages of a pottery class, with the clay still wet and the shape not clear, watching Chris and Jill together was like watching the finished article.

A relationship that had been deep and full – both deeply sexual and deeply emotional. A relationship so full and deep that even after twenty years together Jill’s initial answer to Chris had been that she would go with him to L.A.

Watching them together, seeing the closeness and the way they laughed, the way they drank and moved in synch had my heart pumping and my soul aching with pain. It was like I was partaking of the purest and most dangerous type of narcotic. Capable of giving the most euphoric and heavenly of highs, at the same time capable of killing you stone cold dead if you handled it wrong.

For what seemed an eternity I couldn’t stop myself looking at them. The way they looked held a hypnotic hold over me, however painful it was to watch, the pain in perfect balance with the sweet pleasure.

I’d planned to head up to our room to shower and change, but for long minutes I couldn’t pull myself away. The thought of leaving the two of them alone like this, inhibitions and resolve loosened by alcohol, was exciting to the pervert within. But it was also just a little too dangerous. But as I continued to watch them the dark side of my personality slowly got stronger until I finally forced my legs to move and I headed for the bank of elevators.

*

Fear.

Fear is what I felt as I performed that simplest and most pleasant task of showering. Fear that maybe they’d be gone by the time I hurried back down to the hotel bar. That somehow Chris would have weaved his magic and taken my Jill away to his mountain lair, never more to be seen by me or our family. At least that’s what my over-active imagination told me, a loud voice in my head however much my rational brain told me this would never happen, that Jill and Chris were a thing all in the past.

Over these last months, I’d become a truly strange man. However much my body was shaking with fear, a part of me wanted to slow down my shower and getting dressed, so that I could enjoy the moment all the better. I’d long since realized that the pain and the pleasure were best friends that of necessity walked hand-in-hand, that I was never able to enjoy one without the other, that the pleasure was exponentially higher the more real the fear and the pain was.

Total insanity to a man who’s never experienced it or suffered from the cuckold kink. To a guy like me who’s known it, lived it and chased the Dragon it’s a self-evident truth. Two and two is four. No party mood without the price of the morning hangover. No narcotic high without the track marks on your arm or the shameful truths of what you’ll do for the fix.

So it was a good thirty minutes until I headed back downstairs to the lobby and bar. Ninety percent relieved, ten percent disappointed to see them both still there. Hardly moved, their heads still close together as they continued to laugh, share tiny flirty touches and smiles and generally just enjoy each other’s company.

As I enjoyed another few minutes of secret watching before joining them, I thought back to the first time when Chris had declared his love for Jill, and more importantly when she’d told him and then me that she loved Chris. Not that she’d stopped loving me, but that there was another man she also loved in the non-platonic, romantic and carnal sense of the word.

So much had happened these last two months that I’d put this thought out of my mind – but seeing them sat there so physically and emotionally close, how could I not think about it? It was a chest-crushing, oxygen-depriving, sledgehammer of a thought and it rooted me there to the spot as I stared at them and wondered what the rest of the evening would be like. If I’d been seriously bent out of joint by feeling the third cog at Monday’s dinner at Malcolm’s, how would I feel tonight? This second thought made it even more difficult to move across and start our evening together, but finally, my legs started walking.

“Hi guys, how was your day.”

That was my opener as I butted into their happy little two-some. To their credit, however close and happy they’d seemed, they looked happy to see me.

We shared small talk, they seemed almost as happy as me when I told them about my great meeting. And then, as if from out of nowhere the call arrived that left me with a terrible dilemma.

(As ever, thanks to cbears52 for his careful editing when he's busy with other things.)