Redemption

"Tell me exactly what you want."

It's always better to ask directly. Herb had been hinting, talking trashy, doing all sorts of things except telling me exactly what he wanted.

"Well, you know. . ."

"No, I don't."

We were cuddling in our living room late at night, relaxing after our usual Friday night date devoted to dining and dancing. We were almost ready to go to bed.

"Well, that guy you thought was so handsome – I think you called him eye candy?"

"What about him?"

Herb took a deep breath. "He was staring at you, too. You were one of the prettiest women there, and he was looking at you. I knew what he was thinking about, and it turned me on."

"Herb, you're doing it again. I can't read between those lines. Tell me exactly what you were thinking, tell me what you want."

"He was thinking that he'd like to get you in bed, and I was thinking that that's something I'd like to see, to see you being seduced like that."

"You want to see me seduced by someone like him? But I'm your wife!"

"But you had sex with other guys before, Mary, and when I think about that it turns me on. You're very sexy, I'd like you to feel sexy with some other guy – no, that's not right, what I'd like is to see you BE sexy with some other guy."

"That is absolutely nuts. If you ever were sexy with another woman I'd cut your balls off. Is that what this is about, you want an open marriage or something?" I thought our marriage was really good. We were each 45 years old. I had been divorced for three years and Herb two when we got married nine years ago.

"I absolutely do not want to have sex with another woman. I am getting turned on by seeing other guys look at you with lust in their eyes, and I get really turned on by thinking about what it would look like to see you on this sofa with someone like that guy, getting each other excited, then having sex. You asked, and that is exactly what I want."

Wow. I guess some women do hear that from their husbands, but I didn't expect to hear it from mine. The guy we were taking about was handsome and sexy looking, and sure at the instant I did wonder what it would be like to be held and kissed by him, but it was that idle back-of-the-mind fantasy we all have sometimes, with never any thought or plan of having it happen, and that's what I told Herb.

"I know you wouldn't do something like that behind my back, or have an affair. But think about the other thing. That's what I'd like you to do. Just think about it." Herb took a few seconds and then said "what I'd like is to be sitting over there" – he pointed to the chair across the room – "and see something like this happen."

He kissed me, then kissed me harder, and moved so we were lying down and I was trapped between him and the back of the sofa. I could feel him pressing his erection against me.

It was fun doing that, something we had not done in years. He changed everything though when he said "Pretend it's happening, that I'm watching you and you want to put on a sexy show and have fun while you're doing it."

Pretend, to please my husband? I could do that. I do a little acting in community theater and like to do improv with our acting group. Herb knew that: "Pretend it's an improv session," he said. "Pretend, for me."

I was enjoying his kisses and passion, and what he asked for wasn't too much, was it?

"Give me a minute and I'll do it," I told him. "I just have to think about what character to become."

"Be you," he whispered. That wouldn't work for me, this wasn't anything I'd do, but – yes, I'd be Helen. Helen would do that. Helen was part of our group, and she even told me she thought Herb was sexy. What would Helen do if she was here?

I became her. I was wearing a simple black dress and its hemline was just a little above my knees. It was easy to put my upper leg over his and press my pelvis against his groin and hip and be the aggressor in our kissing.

He liked that!

I reached between us and fumbled with his belt a little, then got it open. His pants closed with a button, and I one handed that open and got his fly zipper lowered too. Herb was pushing against me harder now. "That's what I'd want to see you do," he said as he kissed me back.

I put my hand against his shirt on his belly like I imagined Helen would do. I worked my fingers, now Helen's fingers, pulling up at his shirt until my finger tips were on skin, not cloth.

"Is this what you want to see?" I asked him as I moved my fingers a little lower until they were caressing his belly.

"Oh yes, yes," he said.

I don't know when it happened, but suddenly I was no longer playing Helen's character, I was me. And he was no longer Herb, he became that man I was looking at earlier. And Herb was somewhere else in the room, watching.

And I knew what I was doing was pleasing both me and my husband, who would be sitting over there. I moved my fingertips under the waistband of this stranger's briefs. "Honey," I asked, "Are you watching? Do you see me touching him?"

"Oh God, Mary," the man I was touching said, a husband who wanted to be a surrogate for someone else. I pushed my fingers deeper, feeling coarse dark hair, and deeper, until they reached his shaft. "He's too exited for me to play with his cock," I thought so I reached around it and cupped his scrotum.

I was playing into Herb's fantasy and it was becoming mine, too. "I want to do this while you're watching," I told him, fondling him, then grasping at his shaft, stroking him. His hand moved to my own hip, then onto my leg, under my dress and up until he was fingering me through my panty hose. "That's what he'd do to me if I was playing with his cock," I told Herb, "and I wouldn't stop him. I'd want him to touch me."

Just like that, with just that little bit of stimulation, I felt my husband's penis pulse, and then his briefs and my hand got wet and messy with his ejaculant. Even more surprising to me was his pressure on my groin and what I was doing had me so exited I had a small orgasm, too!

What they say about old dogs and new tricks? It's a lie!

We fell asleep holding each other like that on the sofa, and much later – maybe around 3am, woke up. We left a trail of clothing on the way to our bedroom, had brief but very sweet and tender sex, and fell asleep again.

I awoke around 9 that day and rolled toward my husband and kissed him awake too – with predictable results. When we were done, relaxing in that comfortable after-sex-on-a-Saturday-morning afterglow, Herb said "About last night?"

"Yes?"

"I was serious, you know."

I hugged him tighter, and nodded. "I know."

He was quiet for a minute or two, and then asked what I knew he would. "And?"

I held him a little tighter, pressed against him, put my leg over his hip again like I did the night before. I reached down and held the penis that was still moist from our sex and told him the truth. "It got me excited, too, so if you're sure that's what you want, yes, I'd do it if there's ever a good opportunity."

"It's what I want, Mary" he whispered as he held me. We fell back to sleep again, holding each other physically and promising to hold each other to that promise, too.

I awoke before Herb and was having breakfast when he came into the kitchen. Somehow in the bright daytime it didn't seem right to talk about our earlier conversation.

We didn't say anything about it for the next week, either, but the two times we had sex I knew what Herb was thinking about – his actions spoke louder than words.

That Theater Group I mentioned met once a month on Thursdays unless we were preparing a play. That Thursday evening I was chatting with Helen, my inspiration for the improv I tried on my husband almost a week earlier.

"Did you know Fred is moving away?" she asked me. Fred was, oh, ten years younger than me, he was unmarried, fun to be with, and a good actor. Helen told me he took a job in Providence, both for the position and because of Trinity Rep, their local theater group. He'd be leaving in a week. "I like him a lot, so I gave him a going away present," Helen added with a smirk.

I thought I knew what that was all about, knowing Helen, but I asked anyhow. "Oh?"

"We were practicing some scenes after last month's meeting – remember, you missed the meeting? Anyhow he told me he was leaving then. I invited him to my place the next week – that would have been three weeks ago -- so we could 'practice' some more. I let the scenes get pretty hot."

"That is, real hot."

"Sizzling hot."

"That hot?"

"We ended up having sex, just like I planned. He is very very good in bed. Too bad you're so married you can't give him a going away present like that, too. Or, if you want to, I'll distract Herb. I'd like to give your husband the same present. I think he's hot too. Is he?"

I'm usually not a catty woman, but couldn't resist a little jab: "He is hot. Would you be offering him a somewhat used present?"

"I'd rather call it experienced, Mary, but yes, it's been well used," she said with a laugh, not treating what I said as an insult. "But I know you, and I guess you are never going to let me give Herb that kind of a, well, it wouldn't be a going away present, more like a cumming one. I understand that."

What Helen thought she understood didn't much matter to me. Towards the end of the meeting I made a point of talking to Fred. "When are you leaving, Fred?"

"I'm just finishing up packing, I'll be on my way Monday," he told me.

"Hey Fred, my husband and I go out for dinner and dancing every Friday night. Why don't you join us? It would be my treat as a kind of going away present to you."

Fred looked at me with a funny expression – maybe 'going away present' was a phrase Helen used with him as well but then he said "That sounds really nice. Are you sure your husband won't mind if I tag along?"

"I'm sure it will be OK with him," I assured him. He didn't know I had my fingers crossed, so that means the lie didn't count.

Fred is a really cute guy. He never figured into my fantasies, but just maybe. . .

I didn't say anything to Herb about my plan until we were driving to the restaurant.

"Herby honey, do you remember what happened after we came home last week? We haven't talked about that at all since then."

"Oh, I remember, and I've been thinking about how sexy that was and how sexy you'd be if you did that. I'm hoping for a repeat performance tonight, Mary."

"Is it still something you want?"

"You bet: more than ever."

We stopped at one of the longer red lights on the way to the restaurant. "Honey," I said, "remember me talking about Fred from the theater group? He's leaving the area for good on Monday. You had met Helen, she's part of the group. She seduced him last week as a going away present. Well, I invited him to join us for dinner and dancing tonight. If you don't like that idea we can just go to a different restaurant because I'll never see him again, but if you do want to check him out, maybe we could play that game tonight."

Herb's mouth dropped open, and he looked at me. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as you want me to be."

Herb knew of Fred although he didn't know him personally. He couldn't say a word – I've never seen him speechless before.

"Do you want to test the idea and we'll see how it goes? Probably nothing will happen, but maybe something will."

He somehow croaked out a "I want to test it."

"Herb honey," I said, "Herb, the light is green. We have to go now. And Herb, are you giving me a green light, too?"

He somehow turned to face the front of the car and it began moving. He reached across the seat and stroked my inner thigh and somehow managed to say "Oh yes, yes, you have a green light."

Fred was at our table waiting for us. It was strained at first, then Fred's personality worked its magic. He made Herb feel really at ease without really understanding why he was tense in the first place.

Drinks, a light meal, dessert. There was music and dancing. "Do you like him?" I asked my husband. "What's important, do you?" he responded. We were dancing at the time: I had two handsome men taking turns dancing with me.

"He's nice, he's handsome, he's a great actor, too," I answered.

"That wasn't the real question I wanted to ask," Herb said. "Do you want me to invite him back to our house?" Herb was dancing, sort of, but he was carrying himself as rigidly as a man could, way past 'on edge.'

I pulled my husband closer, and told him what Fred told me during the last dance. Nearly everything was packed in his house, and even the TV was disconnected. All he can do at home is read and wait for the movers to come. "So, if you wanted to invite him, you could use that as an excuse."

He didn't say anything until the end of the dance. As we were walking back to the table he squeezed my hand and said "I will use that as a reason to invite him."

I didn't have a chance to sit down, a new song started and Fred stood and swept me away. He held me maybe just a little closer than was proper, but it wasn't sexy or bad or dirty dancing at all.

The band announced a break as we walked back to the table. Herb looked at me and asked "Did you ask Fred?" I said no while Fred looked puzzled. Herb took over. "Hey Fred, my wife said your apartment was all packed up."

"Yeah, it is."

"Well, come on and follow us home for a nightcap there. We live over in Sunside, is that far out of your way?"

"No, no it isn't, not much anyway. Yes, I'd like that."

Herb suggested I ride with Fred so he wouldn't get 'lost', but Fred said that wasn't necessary, he was sure he could follow us. When we were driving I wondered if that was so that he could escape if he wanted to. Herb told me he was so close behind it was like being welded together.

"I'm scared," I said, holding Herb's hand. "Nothing will happen unless we all want it to," he told me.

Somehow the trip took no time at all. We pulled into the garage, Fred parked in the driveway.

It didn't take long before we were sitting in our living room: Herb and me on the sofa, and Fred on what I had started to think of as the 'watching chair'. I was going to let Herb manage this if he could so I could be 'innocent'.

It turns out he could manage it very well. "You guys did a lot of scenes in the community theater together, didn't you?"

I said "A few," and Fred said that we didn't play opposite each other very often.

"What about practice scenes, improve, things like that," Herb asked. "We tried some of that here last week, but I'm a lousy actor, and Mary deserves someone better to practice with."

"We do have lots of good actors in our group," Fred said.

Herb had a plan: "I remember that play you guys put on last winter, the one that one of your members wrote, that romantic one."

Fred nodded. "Yeah, that was 'Affair,' it got good reviews. We like to do scenes from that just for practice sometimes."

Herb stood up and moved away from the sofa. "Hey Fred, you and Mary show me how professionals rehearse scenes like the seduction one in that play. Mary told me you all improvise a lot, could you do that with Mary? Mary, would that be all right? It would be a nice way to continue the evening."

"Uh, I guess it's OK with me, if it is with Fred."

Fred looked at each of us in turn, trying to understanding what the script really was. "I'd like to do that with you, Mary, but Herb?" – he looked at my husband – "do you remember it's probably R rated, not suitable for children or even husbands if they get jealous of the role their wife is acting."

"I'd like to see it, Fred," Herb said, but really speaking to both of us. "Go on."

I remembered the scene and even played it a few times, but never with Fred. And it was hot: every time I had come home after having kissed another actor I took my arousal out on my husband. He liked the result, but I never told him what was the cause.

Fred sat next to me, put an arm around my shoulder, and asked "Ready to improvise, Mary? We don't have a director here so I'll do that too."

I closed my eyes and took the several mind clearing breaths the way we were taught to, and I could feel Fred doing the same thing.

Then his hand found my chin and turned my head so I was facing him, and our lips met, just as the script, as I remembered, had the actors do.

His hand moved to my shoulder, and he pulled me closer, and the kiss went open mouth – first his, then after a minute, mine, and tongues touched. Part of what we were taught was to make sure the audience could see what was happening, and Fred positioned us so that Herb could see that clearly.

I remembered how the scene was written, how it was supposed to progress. There was supposed to be ... yes, there it was, Fred was stroking my arm, then my side, then my hip, and I let my outside arm move from his shoulder, to his chest, then his belly.

We held that for a moment or two, then slowly parted.

"That was so hot," Herb whispered. "I loved it. It's too bad the scene ended there."

"I was doing this same scene with Helen last week," Fred said, "and we just let it go on. There's no law that says it has to stop there."

"Do that, let the scene go on, like you practiced it with Helen," my husband said.

Fred said "When I was with Helen I didn't know it was a rehearsal for here. Maybe it was. I'd like to go on if it's all right with Mary."

I looked from one to the other of them. This was IT!

"It would be fun: sometimes I assume Helen's character when I'm practicing," I told both of them. "Let's do it again."

More kissing, more arm stroking, then Fred's hand moved across my breast, pausing, feeling my nipple through the dress. I have small breasts and don't wear a bra with this dress. It still looks modest, but I always liked that it made me feel sexy. Now it really felt sexy! Just like last week somehow we tilted more and more until I was lying on the sofa, pressed against this man, and he was pressing back.

He knew what we wanted, I was sure of it.

He pulled away, sat up and helped me up, too. "Is that more or less what you had in mind?" he asked Herb. Herb wasn't shy about saying it was exactly what he wanted to see, then he turned to me. "Are you having fun, Mary?"

He might as well have asked "Are you ready to let this man fuck you?"

"It is fun. And sexy," I said. I really was saying that it looked like we were all consulting adults.

"When I played this same scene with Helen it wasn't as hot. Helen isn't married, she goes out with a lot of guys. It's odd, being with a woman like that, she felt almost, well, cheap. But you two, I don't think you do this often . . ." Herb interrupted "we never do this!" and Fred continued "so this feels so sexy, so special. I want to go on, but this time, Mary, let's make it really hot." He looked from one to the other of us. "Is that OK?"

I looked to my husband for guidance in time to see him say "It's what I want. What about you, Mary?" Were we really consenting adults?

"I did say I was having fun," I told the both of them.

Fred stood up and adjusted the lights to his liking, turning them down a little bit. They weren't harsh, it was almost, well, seductive.

Then he pulled me up, and kissed me. "OK, this is how we're going to heat it up," he told me, talking now like the director, like the man in charge.

"How?" I didn't want to stop, I didn't know what he meant. Fred looked at my husband, then me. "First, don't take on Helen's character. It's not Helen I want to play this scene with, it's you. Can you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I think I understand what you both want, and I want it too. So, let's not be pretending this is something other than what it really is. I want you to take off those pantyhose."

Oh God!

Herb looked at me and agreed. "Mary, do that. Do that as Mary, not Helen. Do that now!"