Part 3
Well, this part has come a long way.... not entirely by choice. After writing this the FIRST time, I was well on my way through my last edits. Opened the file to (hopefully) finish the edits and post to Lit, and POOF corrupt file, all 19 pages of the word doc corrupt. Gone. Disappeared. Vanished.
I'd like to think this forced do-over has resulted in a slicker, better flowing story. I hop you enjoy it.
This is a continuation of an ongoing story, while not necessary, I would strongly encourage you to read the first 2 parts before diving in.
Onto take 2...
Part 3 -
John Prescot sat out back of his house, sipping beer from a bottle on his back deck. It had been a pleasant enough Saturday which consisted of some early October yard work and puttering around the yard tackling many of the miscellaneous items he had been putting off. Zach was away at a friend's place that night for a sleepover, leaving John and Emily on their own for the evening.
As John finished his third, or was it his fourth, beer, he watched as the patio lights flicked on while the sun slowly set. He is pulled away from his aimless thoughts by the sound of the patio door opening and closing, his wife Emily stepping out with her own drink of choice. A slightly lecherous grin crept across John's face as he looked at his wife, a tight pair of black Lululemon leggings paired with her usual East Coast Lifestyle hoodie hugging her still desirable curves just enough.
As he scooted to one side of the outdoor couch he was seated on, John said, "Plenty of room over here, come join me."
By reply, Emily laughed softly and took a seat in the large single lounge chair opposite the couch, setting her glass of wine down and opening her book as she replied, "No sense crowding you when we have this perfectly good lounger. Besides, you know I prefer to sit here to read."
"God forbid..." John muttered partially under his breath. The alcohol from his beers just enough to loosen his lips, "Wouldn't want to accidentally touch me."
"Listen John," Emily sighed, "this is just a better spot for me to read."
"Well maybe you could find something, or someone else to pay attention to for once other than your book, or book club, or work, or what ever else you busy yourself with."
As she set her book down, looking at John with a mildly put-out look on her face Emily retorted, "Look, we've been over this, and frankly it's not cute anymore."
Normally this would have been the end of it. Normally John would retreat for another drink or to do some busy work to move on. But this had not been a normal few weeks, and John had just enough alcohol in him to decide to push back.
"Right Emily. God forbid I should want any sort of physical intimacy with you. God forbid I should want to kiss you, or touch or, even have sex with you," John feigned indignity and clutched at a set of imaginary pearls like an ancient prude on one of her favorite Netflix period pieces, "How dare I still want to have sex with my wife."
"Well excuse me, John. I've told you this before, and I'll say it again now. I'm just not interested in sex anymore. I have no desire or need for it. We tried for a while, but I've come to accept that that part of my life is done. You should too."
With a slow, deliberate motion John reached over and picked up his open bottle. A long deliberate sip as his mind churned on her words. Every instinct telling him to give up as there was no winning this argument, there never was.
But a smaller, louder part of his mind reminded him of how good it felt having sex with Charlotte just a few weeks ago during the conference in Ottawa, and last week the incredibly sensual mutual masturbation session he had shared with his former student Lily. Why shouldn't he be allowed to feel good?
As he set the bottle down gently, John looked Emily squarely in the eyes and asked, "How is it fair that you should get to decide something like that on your own. Why is it, that you can unilaterally decide that my sex life doesn't matter? That my need for intimacy and physicality doesn't matter?" he looked at her, trying to gauge her feelings on the matter. "It doesn't seem fair to me," he declared before looking away.
They sat in silence for a minute, John had to resist the urge to break the silence, rather he waited for Emily to respond to his line of questioning. Her reply came as she stood, collected her book and glass of wine, and returned inside to the house. John watched her go, feeling a mixture of elation and sorrow that she couldn't rebut his questioning but also that he may have pushed too hard.
"Fuck it," he said to no one as he sipped his beer and watched the sun disappear beneath the horizon.
He sat there for a little while but ultimately collected his empties and retreated inside form the quickly cooling Canadian October air. Once that sun disappears, the bottom really dropped out of the temperature.
It just didn't make any sense to him. He wasn't bad looking at 42 years old he was still in surprisingly good shape. Bit of a dad bod vibe but still a trim stomach, broad shoulders and some definition on his chest and arm muscles. At 5'11" and just shy of 190lbs he still considered himself to be attractive... and, he grinned to himself, Charlotte, and Lily both seemed to appreciate his middle-aged self without too much complaint. Topped off with a somewhat thinner layer of sandy brown hair and piercing blue eyes, John was routinely mistaken for someone in their early 30s... which is a win when you're in your 40s.
Inside, as he stood at the kitchen sink rinsing his bottles out, he couldn't hear anything. Emily must have headed upstairs to read in bed, or down to her office. Deciding to give her some space, John opened up his messenger bag and took out a small stack of history essays to grade at the kitchen table. For this particular class he found that a few beers always made their writing more tolerable.
Some time later John is pulled out of his marking by the creak of the bottom stair, looking up to see Emily in her housecoat and a serious look on her face.
"Em, I'm sorry about what I said earlier..." John starts to say but is interrupted.
"It's not fair," a frown passed across Emily's face as she spoke. "You're right, as much as I hate agreeing, you are in fact right. For me to decide like that, taking sex and everything else off the table without so much as talking with you about it... it wasn't fair."
Momentarily shocked at her admission, John opens his mouth to speak but is silenced by Emily as she held up one finger in the 'wait a second' gesture.
"Let me finish. There is more I want to say," at this John's shock began to morph into concern, where was this headed? "John, I love you. I really do. I never realized how much physicality meant to you, mostly because it never really meant much to me. Sure, it was fun and all but that was a bout it. I never considered you may feel differently."
As she spoke, John watched in concerned silence, occasionally nodding in agreement or just to show her that he was still listening.
"I have no interest in sex. I'm sorry. But that doesn't mean you need to go without...I have given it careful thought and here is my offer. If you really feel you need to, go ahead, and find someone who can meet your...needs. BUT," a raised finger once again punctuated her words, "I have to insist on a few conditions. First, I do not want to know anything. Do what you need to but keep it out of sight and out of mind. Second, do not do anything do embarrass Zach or me. This isn't a huge city, and I don't want every nosey Nancy knowing that you are involved in any sort of extra-marital activities. And finally, remember that I love you, John Prescot. Can you agree to this?"
Dumbfounded, John nods slowly. His brain still slowly processing what he had just heard. Was she really saying what he thought she was saying. Emily leaned forward and gave him a kiss before turning and heading back upstairs.
This left John in the dim light shocked at what his wife of countless years had just suggested. Sitting at the kitchen table, John took one hand and pinched the back of his other hand hard. OUCH! Nope, this was not a dream. What the actual fuck had just happened???
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As Monday dawned, John was still wondering just how serious Emily had been. They hadn't spoken of it since Saturday night, Sunday had gone by much like every other Sunday. With John watching football, hugely relieved that his Philadelphia Eagles were still undefeated on the season, and some time spent working with Zach to put out Halloween decorations.
As he slid his jacket on in the entryway and grabbed his car keys he looked up and saw Emily at the top of the stairs. She walked down and handed him his soft leather messenger bag filled with various papers.
"Thanks honey," John said, taking the bag and slinging it over one shoulder.
With a smile, Emily leaned in and gave John a kiss on the cheeks, "I love you John, and I meant what I said on Saturday night. I want you to be happy, but this will be the last time I mention it. What you do, I don't want to know about it."
John nodded in reply, somewhat stunned, somewhat liberated. Hell of a way to start a Monday morning.
After his short drive across town, John pulled his car into its usual spot in the parking lot.
Once he was upstairs in his classroom, John set about his typical morning routine. First and foremost, he filled and set the coffee machine to brewing. As the smell of strong coffee started to fill the back room, John booted up his laptop and organized a few sets of papers he had taken home over the weekend.