Chapter 06
Interlude: Beth relieves Stephen's October blahs, but the sheets suffer.
************
Author's note:
The six chapters (so far) of
New England Triad
are best read in sequence. However, this chapter does start off with a recap of the action so far. All the characters are in their thirties. The narrator is Stephen Lancome, a college English professor and bicycle enthusiast.
Thanks to tennesseered for his support and good advice throughout this series. The faults of this series are my own.
************
Even with the nice fall weather, October always feels dull and
blah
. My wife Ann, back from the trade show in Pittsburgh, had settled into her normal routine at Edson-Kelly. She was still working on the product catalogue plus several other projects, and nothing was moving fast. I was getting bogged down with my teaching duties plus a paper I was writing for a scholarly conference. The paper was not coming along well: even I found it dull. My lover Beth's freelance work for Edson-Kelly ebbed and flowed. It was ebbing at the moment, but other clients were keeping her busy.
Our personal lives were in the doldrums too--though I suppose here the doldrums were better than a gale. Ann was acting remarkably blase' and guilt-free about her adultery in Pittsburgh. I found that a bit unsettling, but there wasn't much I could say or do about it. I was in no position to play the role of Wronged Husband.
By now, Beth's and my affair had been going on for three months. We had reached the point where we no longer jumped into bed with each other at every opportunity. Nearly two weeks had passed since our last tumble.
Back in July, Beth's and my best-case forecast had Ann tolerating the affair for two or three months. That would give all three of us time to figure out what we wanted, exactly--we thought. Now, three months later, Beth and I still didn't know what we wanted, let alone how to make it happen. If anything, a complicated situation had gotten only more complicated.
On the plus side, some of the complications had probably postponed the day when Ann would say, "Enough!" The complications included Ann's and Beth's sex together and then our threesome, in August. Then Ann's extramarital adventure in Pittsburgh, in September. But I sensed that the day of reckoning had only been postponed, not cancelled. Other complications included Beth's and my deepening emotional ties and my fantasies involving Beth's housemate Dev.
A phone call from Beth interrupted my Thursday-morning funk. She was about to bicycle up to the bread bakery in Vernon. How about getting together for lunch at my place on her way back? Unless I'd prefer to meet her at the little cafe at the bakery?
I thought my place offered certain advantages over the cafe--a bed, for instance--so I suggested she come here. She said she'd call or text me just before she left the store, probably around 11:30, and should be on my doorstep 35 or 40 minutes later. I did the math: that would give us three hours together before I had to leave to teach my 4:15 seminar.
Her bike ride would be at least 45 miles round-trip, so at noon her body would want a little fat, a little protein, and a good dose of carbohydrates. I decided that tuna salad with whole wheat elbow macaroni would do nicely. I started cooking the pasta.
Beth arrived just after noon. We had lunch and then fresh black coffee; then we went upstairs. Beth quickly stripped, went into the bathroom, and gave her body a quick touchup with a washcloth.
By now, at least some of the October
blahs
had drifted away.
"Your toothbrush is in the medicine cabinet if you want it," I said. It had lain there since Beth's overnight stay following our threesome. Beth seemed delighted that the toothbrush was now officially hers and had a semi-permanent place in this house. That made it, to some small extent, her house too.
When she was done brushing, she sat on the toilet and peed while I brushed my own teeth. We were certainly acting comfortable around each other, like a long-married couple, and to hell with decorum. She wiped, then went into the bedroom, pulled the bed's covers and top sheet back, and hopped on. She lay on her back, legs slightly spread, head on a pillow, hands on her tummy. I finished using the toilet and joined her. A sweet smile was on her face.
I lay on my right side, next to her. My right hand propped my head up: I wanted to look at Beth's lovely body. My left hand went to the beautiful brown curls on top of her also-beautiful mound of Venus. From time to time a finger of mine found its way down to her plump labia and then--as her moisture came and the labia parted easily--around and onto her clitoris. She turned towards me a little, and we kissed as I stroked her. A minute later a small orgasm--hers--surprised us both.
I moved down, put my head between her legs, and admired the sight and the smell of her sex. "Open wider, please," I requested. She obliged. My finger traced the delicate inner lips, now glistening a little in her moisture. Then, gently with one finger, I played with the opening of her vagina while softly licking her clitoris with my tongue. I inhaled her lovely scent. Gradually I began flicking her clitoris faster and more firmly.
"That's good, Stephen.... Like that.... Yes.... That's it.... Don't stop...."
I had no intention of stopping. Beth now held me firmly with her knees. I moved my finger around in her warm vagina, penetrating less than a half inch. After a few minutes I could see she was approaching climax again. Her back was arching, her eyes squinting, her thick brown nipples protruding beautifully. This one might be a big one.
Beth's hands gripped my head. Her vocal offerings were sounding less and less like words. Now her vagina was tightening, but I managed to move my finger all the way in and slowly wiggle it a bit. About twenty more licks of the tongue and she was convulsing. Her hips were bucking, and her vagina squeezed my finger firmly seven or eight times. Then she lay limp, her eyes closed, for the next half minute.
