It is hard to say exactly when I started realizing that my marriage was going south. I think it might have been the night of our honeymoon. I had always been of the impression that she enjoyed our sex life, but the night of our honeymoon there was no a moan nor a whimper from her as I attempted to satisfy her orally.
The intercourse was just as cool and I felt as if I had purchased an inflatable doll for the purposes of my relief.
We talked about it a few days later and she confessed that she always thought that oral sex was repulsive and actually hinted at the fact that I might be a little sick for wanting to fulfill a woman's needs in this manner. I had always confessed to her that my greatest thrill was to watch her face and feel her body as I went down on her and she achieved orgasm.
After our conversation I did feel rather belittled by the fact that she felt I was sick for wanting to please women orally. Our sexual encounters became less and less until I finally could not remember the last time that we had had physical contact.
A friend of mine, whom I had dated a few years earlier, was bisexual and she had married a man whom I liked and thought was a good husband. I had not stayed in touch with Karla for some time since I didn't know how her husband felt about our past relationship. I did email her, however, and told her that I wanted to talk to her. She gave me her work number and I called her the following week.
"How have you been, Karla?" I asked her when she answered the phone, not giving my name.
"Yep," I replied.
"It's great to hear your voice," she said, "What's up?"
I laughed. Always straight to the point.
"Nothing, I just wanted to know how you were."
"Bullshit," she said, "I know you better. Three years and now an email you want to talk to me?"
"Well, I am kind of going through a rough time in my marriage," I admitted, "our sex life sucks."
I waited for a response but got none, so I continued.
"She hates oral sex and thinks I am bizarre for enjoying performing it so much."
"What?" Karla finally interjected, "Do you remember what I said to you one time?"
"I don't know which time you are talking about,, but I do remember you said I ate pussy better than any woman you had ever been with," I said.
"Exactly," she laughed, "I thought you would remember that, and for you to be with a woman that doesn't appreciate your talents is a waste."
"So what? Get a divorce?"
"Perhaps," she said, "at least look to get a girlfriend. And I am not applying for the job. I am very happy with David."
"I know," I said, "I'll think about what you said, and thanks for the words of encouragement."
After I hung up the phone I started thinking about what she said. My defensive attitude changed to one of anger. I decided that I was going to take Karla's advice, not about getting divorced, but about getting a girlfriend.
The next day at work I had a different attitude. I had always looked away when Debbie, the cashier in the stockbrokerage office I worked for, had looked at me. I had known that look before, in my single days. It had been an invitation to something more. Not a cup of coffee more, a cup of nectar much sweeter than any coffee or wine. I had gone through years of this and had sworn that cup was put away forever. I had gone through years of meaningless relationships and copulations without remembering names. I had thought that marriage would put an end to that. How wrong I had been.
That morning when I went to get my daily customer runs from the cashier, I had locked eyes with Debbie instead of looking away. She seemed amazed and continued to stare. Finally she smiled.
"How's everything at home?"
I smiled and went back to my office.
The phone rang when I got back.
"Tom Henry," I answered, expecting it to be a client.
"Are you okay?" Debbie's voice was on the other end.
"Sure," I lied, "why wouldn't I be?"
"Call it woman's intuition."
"Don't you have to be a woman to have that?" I laughed.
"Twenty-two is not a woman?" she scorned.
"It is to a twenty-two year old boy," I said. The truth was that our thirty year difference in age made me feel very defensive. I assumed I had made subconsciously to make her angry so I could quit this stupid game before it got started. I expected an angry retort but got none.
"You're right," she said, "I still have much to learn about being a woman."
I could hear myself actually gulp into the phone. The receiver was getting slippery in my hand from the perspiration.
"I guess I need a teacher," she whispered.
I could feel my penis getting erect in my pants.
"Maybe you do," I heard myself say.
"Wow," she said, "things must be bad at home."
I said nothing. I realized she must have been playing me and I had let her.
"I have to go," she said and hung up the phone.
I closed the door to my office and sat there listening to my heart pound in my chest. I had gone over that line with Debbie and now I was going to pay the price. She was probably telling everyone about our conversation and laughing. I was trying desperately to remember what I had said. Had I put myself in jeopardy of sexual harassment? I couldn't remember the conversation.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in," I said.
Debbie opened the door and came into my office. I could feel the beads of perspiration forming on my head. I watched her petite figure walk toward me. The short black skirt swished back and forth as she exaggerated the movement of her hips. I was always amazed that they allowed her to wear such short, revealing skirts to work but Harry, the manager had never anything to her about it.
"You have a client who is on House call, due tomorrow," she said as she came around to the back of my desk with a piece of paper in her hand.
I could smell the perfume as she leaned over my desk. Her low cut blouse revealed her firm breasts beneath her white, cotton blouse. As she put the paper on my desk she stayed in the leaning position, her breasts six inches from my eyes. I took the sight in and continued to look. Unafraid of what the consequences might be. I looked up to see her staring into my eyes.
"You like?" she asked.
My first reaction was to pretend I had not been caught with my hands in the cookie jar, but I ignored that reaction.
I shook my head.
"You have a very nice body and you know it," I said.
Her eyes widened. I was sure she was shocked at my behavior but I decided to play along as long as she did.
"What about this house call?" she changed the subject.
"My client will meet it tomorrow," I said.
