This story contains scenes of non-consensual and reluctant sex. All characters are over 18.
*****
The e-mail came out of the blue. It was from Ted Drake.
The last time we saw Ted, he was still married to Patti. My wife Libby and I knew them from our son's school. One or the other of them would be picking up their kids at the same time as we were picking up Luke. We made friends and used to go out together for dinners and shows. We'd have them over to our house and they had us to theirs. Then something catastrophic happened to their marriage and they quickly divorced. They both moved away. We never knew the details.
I occasionally heard from Ted on Facebook or in the odd e-mail, but he was basically more of a good memory than an active part of our lives.
That had all happened ten years ago. Our Luke was off to college across the country now and we were empty nesters.
Now after only sporadic contact, Ted's new e-mail came as a surprise. He was coming to town on business and thought he might drop by for a visit if we were amenable to the idea.
I talked with Libby before responding. Like me, she was happy to hear from an old friend.
"Ask him where he's staying. We could put him up in Luke's old room."
"It's a business trip," I said. "His work is likely putting him up in a hotel or something."
"Just ask," she said.
I tapped a reply back to Ted telling him we'd be very happy to see him and he was more than welcome to stay at our place.
A few minutes later, he got back to me. He'd take us up on our gracious offer; it seems he was his own boss now and didn't have a corporation's deep pockets for accommodations. He'd buy us dinner while he was here.
That all sounded fine. I confirmed the dates and marked our calendar.
The days passed and I didn't give Ted's visit much thought. I was looking forward to seeing him, but I was hoping the conversation wasn't going to be just Ted bitching about Patti the whole time.
The appointed day arrived and so did Ted.
Ted and I shook hands at the door and Libby gave him a big hug before inviting him in.
He was taller than I remembered, half-a-head taller than me. His build was lean and muscular. He still had a head of straight blond hair. He was tanned to a golden brown. He was a handsome devil, there was no doubt about it.
It was late afternoon, so we decided to dine out early and come back home later to drink, chat and reminisce.
We went to an upscale hotel restaurant and found ourselves seated at a round table. It was the kind of place where they still served meals on tables covered with massive tablecloths. I later wondered if Ted selected this restaurant for that reason.
I was halfway through my prime rib dinner and had just tipped back a glass of water when I felt something.
It was so gentle a touch, I was not startled but only very mildly surprised and curious. The contact was against the top of my shoe. Libby's toe, no doubt. She hadn't played footsy with me under a table like this for more years than I could remember.
I looked at my dining companions. Ted was still talking about his new business while Libby listened with fascination. I wondered how she could look so concentrated while playing with me under the table.
Her toe reached my pant cuff and ever so gently began to haul it up so she could rub my leg. I stared at her. You'd never know from her expression that she was exerting herself, and she had to be because her legs were not that long. She must be stretching--
That's when I clued in.
It couldn't be her.
And that meant it had to be Ted. Only his legs would be long enough.
I was stunned. I didn't know what to say or do.
Ted said something that Libby found particularly interesting and she turned to me to invite comment.
Whatever he had said sailed right past me.
"Yes, very interesting," I said, fingers crossed that I could get away with that answer. Ted kept talking and his toe kept sliding up my leg, rubbing gently. He was up to my knee.
I thought I should be reacting to this encroachment, but I could summon nothing. It felt good as the rest of his foot made contact. He had removed his shoe of course, and now I could feel pressure from five toes on my thigh. It tapped twice and I took that to mean he wanted to go higher, which would mean opening my legs.
Without thinking, I did just that.
Libby laughed at something Ted said, momentarily shocking me out of my trance. I tried to follow the conversation but it was impossible. Five toes caressed the inside of my thigh. I was conscious enough to control my excited breathing. A drop of sweat ran down the side of my face. I felt a twitch in my crotch as my cock made a little lurch toward the pleasuring toes.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the massage was over. The foot was withdrawn. I stared at Ted but whether that was with reproach or excitement, even I was not sure. I didn't know what I was feeling.
Ted turned to me at that moment.
"What do you think?" he asked.
I was lost. "I don't know."
Ted brought me up to speed on the conversation with just a few sentences and I gave my opinion. It all seemed so banal after the excitement of a few minutes ago.
Ted continued speaking to me. We conversed on a number of business-related topics and I was able to hold forth with a little more confidence now that I was not sensually distracted.
I glanced over at Libby.
The colour had risen in her cheeks and her ears were red. Her breathing was very shallow and very consciously under control. She bit her bottom lip. I had seen her like this before: in the flush of sexual excitement.
I knew exactly what was going on with her.
I turned my gaze back to Ted, who was still talking. I had to commend him for his self-discipline, maintaining our conversation while stimulating my wife with his toes, but that would have to be after I knocked his block off.
But I didn't want to make a scene. We'd settle this later.
Was this the state of our marriage then: that my wife would let another man play foot games with her while her husband was at the same table? Why didn't Libby speak up?
Why didn't I? I asked myself.
To blame Libby for what I had just done myself--accepted the caresses of someone from outside our marriage--was a double-standard. It was probably something we should talk about, but how could I talk about it? For either of us, the action flirted with adultery, but for me there was the added transgression of homosexuality. Did my reaction to Ted's foot game mean I was attracted to a man? Was I gay?
Libby suddenly exhaled loudly. She had apparently been holding her breath. She was very red and there was sweat on her brow.
I was slightly miffed in spite of myself.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
"Yes," Libby replied. "Just feeling a little warm."
"Does anyone want dessert?" Ted asked innocently.
I brooded as Ted drove us back to our house in his rented car. Libby was quiet too. I was upset with the liberties Ted had taken with us at the restaurant, but I couldn't put my finger on what part of it was the main problem exactly. Was it the fact that Ted had acted so, or that Libby and I had not lifted a finger to stop him? Ted just kept on talking.
Things lightened up a little when we got home. Ted had brought a bottle of Scotch for us, and a bottle of red wine for Libby. He remembered our preferences from the old days.
Once the alcohol was in my system, I started to relax. Maybe it had been no big deal, just a little overfamiliarity. Besides, now that we were at our house, there were no tablecloths to hide under. Libby and I sat on the couch and Ted was in an armchair. We were separated by a coffee table. Problem solved.
The evening wore on and my dread that Ted would bore us with talk of his divorce and criticism of Patti proved unfounded. He called the divorce the best thing that ever happened to him. He was happy for Patti, who had remarried. He still saw his full-grown children regularly. He gave no hint as to what issue destroyed their marriage.
