Janet has the cab pull up in the driveway. The house is dark; no lights.
Is he home? Where else would he go?
There are plants on both sides of the walk to the front door, which is set back under the roof by ten or twelve feet, making it darker than even the surrounding area. She fumbles first finding the right key, then finding the lock. She usually just has to hit the button in the car to open the garage door, and enter that way. This is the first time she has to use the front door to enter since they have lived here.
Why isn't the dog barking, or at least sniffing at the door? Is he in the yard? That would mean Paul is home.
She enters the foyer and hits the light switch. The home is a tri-level, straight ahead from the front door is a sliding glass door leading to the back yard; the dog isn't there. To the left one set of stairs going down and one set of stair going up. She turns on the lights to the stairs going down to the bar. He isn't there. She starts up the stairs to the living room and kitchen and master bedroom. When she reaches the top stair she notices the glow from a cigarette in the living room.
Paul had quit smoking fifteen years ago. Is that him sitting in the dark, smoking?
She hits the lights. Paul sits on the couch, a cigarette in one hand, a drink in the other, the dog sitting on the floor between his legs with his head in Paul's lap.
"Schatzie, go lay down," she commands.
The dog does not move.
"He's my dog," Paul says. "He's not going to listen to you. I don't even know if I want to listen to you."
She sits down next to him, puts her arm around him, tries to take the cigarette away from him. He pulls his hand back.
"Can't we get past this somehow?" she pleads softly. "I'm really sorry. I don't know what got into me. We've got eighteen years together. I really want to get back to the way it was."
"I know what got into you. It was T.J. I don't want to talk to you right now. Go to bed. I need to be by myself. I need to think."
"Come to bed with me. Let me show you how sorry I am."
"No! I'm staying here for a while. You go. But take a shower first. You smell like sex."
She takes a shower and climbs into bed, hoping he'll follow shortly. He doesn't. She eventually cries herself to sleep.
Paul too, eventually falls asleep where he sits, the dog's head still on his lap.
It is midday when Janet awakes. Schatzie is at the patio door waiting to be let out. She lets him out, makes coffee, and goes to wake Paul, who is still asleep bent over on the couch.
"Please, honey, please wake up. Please talk to me," she coos as she nudges him awake.
He opens his eyes and stares at her for a moment. "Let me take that coffee and go take a shower. Then maybe I'll feel like talking."
She is sitting at the kitchen table when he comes back from the shower. She speaks first: "Can you forgive me? I had way too much to drink and I don't know what came over me. It was like I couldn't help myself. You know I've never been like that before, and I never will again, if you'll just forgive me and let us get back to the way we were till yesterday."
"I want to; you know I want to. I love you. I've always loved you, but you've got to know it hurt me no end to see you with another man. It's going to take a while for me to get over it and trust you again."
"I know; but you know I love you. I'll do whatever you ask. Just try to forgive me, please."
"I'll try, but there has to be some conditions."
"Anything. Just name it."
"Okay. First of all, I've got to know that you belong to me exclusively. You must never see that man again, or even have any contact with him. If he calls or tries to contact you, you must not respond—at all!"
"Of course. Anything else?"
"No more going out dressed like you did, looking like you were trying to attract other men."
"I dressed that way for you. Did you not like the way I looked?"
"I loved it, but I want it to be exclusively for me. When I looked over at you sitting there, and realized other men were staring at you, I sensed right then that men would be hitting on you. That's why I asked to leave. Next time listen to me."
"Anything else?"
"Yes. Let's never bring this up again. I don't ever want to talk about it again, okay?"
"I don't want to talk, or even think about it again either. So where do we go from here?"
He reaches across the table and takes her by the hand and leads her back to the bedroom. They lie down together and cuddle, each with their own thoughts, and fall asleep in each other's arms.
* * * * *
After that, except for the timing, things fall into place pretty much as T.J. had forecast.
In spite of what they said, and no matter how well-meaning they are, and no matter how hard they try, things can never be quite the same as they were.
Within four days Janet cannot get T.J. out of her mind. While Paul is at work, she lies on the bed and gets overwhelmed with the memory of that night, of T.J. eating her cunt. Her heart pounds, she gets light-headed, she can't help herself, she has to masturbate.
She takes a job the next week that is a three-day gig in which she works along side a black man. They have worked together before and she had never had any thoughts about it one way or the other. But now, every time she looks at him she thinks of the ecstasy she experienced while T.J. fucked her. The first thing she does every day when she gets home is masturbate. On the third day on the job, standing next to him, she can't wait to get home, she runs to the bathroom and masturbates right then.
The next day, while making her list for the weekly grocery shopping, she remembers the cashier at the check-out. He is a young black man, in his early twenties, and she smiles as she thinks of him. To do the shopping, she decides to wear one of Paul's t-shirts, braless, and tight jeans.
After filling her cart with the weekly groceries Janet pretends to do more shopping, pushing the cart back and forth, until she can be next in line in the young man's line for check-out. She openly flirts with him, amused and excited as he becomes flustered and fumbles with the register and groceries. His eyes are on her breasts more than the register. When he finishes putting the last of the bagged groceries in her cart, she reaches over and puts her hand on his and leaves it there for a moment, at the same time brushing her chest against his arm. "Thank you, young man," she coos, "what a handsome young man you are."
He is so flustered he can't answer. He just keeps nodding his head while staring at her breasts.
On the way home she can't stop dreaming about stripping that young man naked and giving him a blowjob like he has never gotten before, of making him come so hard he would never forget it. When she gets home she can't wait even to take the groceries out of the car. First she has to run inside and masturbate.
* * * * *
Janet tries; she really does, to enjoy the lovemaking with her husband. But the only way she can get an orgasm any more is to pretend in her mind that it is T.J. fucking her. But even that is difficult. Her body knows, her mind knows it isn't T.J. It is the middle of the fourth week when it all comes tumbling down.
All the time since T.J., Paul has tried to be her lover. This night he has kissed her gently, has moved down to her breasts, kissing her whole body, licking her pussy, was now gently fucking her. "Slap me," she whispers.
"What," Paul says.
"Slap me, please," she whispers again, her eyes closed, dreaming she is somewhere else.
Paul immediately loses his hard-on, slides off her, jaws set, stares at the ceiling.
"What's wrong?" Janet shrieks as she wakes from her reverie.
"You're not fucking me, you're fucking HIM; that's what's wrong."
"What are you talking about? It's not true. I've forgotten all about that. There's just you."
