Not a lot of sex in this one, and not a happy ending -- just to warn you. The thing in the story about cigarettes is based on an actual incident shared to me by a person working at a similar facility. Hope you enjoy.
*****
Many years ago, as an undergraduate, I took a stage fencing class an elective course. Some of my friends thought it was a bit of a step down from my kickboxing training, but there were lots of similarities between the two. In essence, both were like a subtle dance between two partners. The difference is that in a match, you're trying to anticipate what your opponent is doing and plan your steps to counter it. Whereas, in stage fencing, you are trying to remember or anticipate the move in order to compliment it -- while trying to make it look like you're trying to outdo the other.
I was reminded of the subtle dance of staging a fencing duel as I watched thirty-six-year Cassandra -- or Cassie as she preferred -- sitting beside twenty-something year-old Troy. Troy was a history and English teacher fresh out of university, and Cassie was the head English teacher at the same school. She was also my wife of seventeen years, and the mother of our eighteen year-old daughter, Antigone, who had recently started university in San Diego.
It was a Thursday night, and we were out for a retirement dinner of the school principal, Arnold West, whose wife's health problems prompted him cutting off what was supposed to be his final year short. Due to my wife, seemingly unnecessarily fussing about her attire for an informal dinner -- and in my opinion going a little too dressy in a nice sexy tightfitting blue dress -- we were the last to arrive. I couldn't complain too much, all five-foot-eight and a hundred twenty pounds of her looked amazing. Jogging every morning before class and working out three days a week pays off. Unfortunately because of our tardiness, the only two seats left were diagonal from each other.
One of the other teachers rose up to switch seats, planning on moving to the other side so we could side beside each other. However, before that happened, Cassie had already sat down beside Troy. I had to settle for sitting diagonally across from my wife.
I knew the two were colleagues and had to work close together for planning and resolving different issues, but there was something else there. The subtle duel between them, which I am sure no one else noticed and I doubt they had any clue about, was visible to me. Troy would casually make contact with Cassie; his arm brushing hers, or his hand touching her wrist. It looked innocent as two workplace friends sitting in close seating quarters when eating -- especially one left handed and right handed. However, it was the reaction and counter reaction that I found so interesting.
Troy brushed Cassie's arm. She immediately moved it slightly so they weren't touching. He moved it over so it touched her again. Cassie turned and gave him a subtle look, and moved her arm. He countered by grabbing his water, taking a sip, and setting it down, so his hand grazed hers. She responded by raising her eyebrows and subtly glancing at me. His hand moved to under the table. Later on during supper, there was the same glance at him, followed by Cassie slightly moving her chair over. Sitting down in that dress, I knew the hem would be quite high on her leg -- at least halfway between her knee and hip. Troy responded by a subtle look of his own.
It was at that point, I decided I was an observer long enough. Actually, even if it wasn't for that subtle dueling between them, I was definitely feeling like a third wheel since her and Troy basically had talked the whole time without more than two word sentences directed in my direction.
I reached and held Cassie's hand. She initially flinched, but then turned to me and smiled. I said in a flirty tone, "God, you look so beautiful tonight. I'm so glad I have no marking to do when we get home."
I was staring right into my wife's beautiful brown eyes, but I was really looking at Troy out of the corner of my eye. I saw what I expected at that point, but was really hoping not to see: a look of jealousy.
"Pete, thank you," Cassie said almost blushing, "But maybe this isn't the time to be discussing our marking habits."
At that point, Troy touched her bare shoulder, and she turned to him. "Cass, speaking of marking, do we have a plan for finals yet?" The hand remained on her shoulder for about two minutes, before she realized it probably was too familiar, and she reached, gave it a subtle squeeze and moved it under the table. She didn't look my way again, until the bill came, which I paid.
On the ride home, it was almost like Cassie forgot I was sitting across from her at the dinner. She recounted funny things Troy had said, or how good her fish was and asked if what I ate was any good. She was in such a good mood, that I don't think she noticed how withdrawn I felt. If that was a duel, I certainly lost the moment he touched her shoulder.
It was fairly late for us when we got home, so we went straight up to bed. Cassie went into the bathroom to remove her make-up, still in that dress, while I changed into boxers to sleep.
I was in bed when she returned. Cassie put her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, "No marking tonight? Not really subtle were you? And in front of people I work with?"
"I guess they would find it shocking that we still have sex," I said sarcastically.
By the look on her face, I think she thought I was teasing. "No... but amorous enough to discuss it in public might be a little surprising. Not like we're teenagers anymore, though I think I'm horny enough tonight to fuck you like one -- you lucky boy."
It might come as a surprise, but watching a guy ten years younger try to paw my wife all night, and her reaction suggesting because I was there that it was all right, didn't exactly put me in the mood for sex. I was trying to keep my emotions in check as I processed everything, because I knew all I had were guesses. I did know that having sex with Cassie that night wasn't high on my priorities. However, when she peeled off the dress and climbed into bed wearing just thigh high stockings and garters, I caved.
I thought if she wants to fuck, then we'll fuck. After some mutual oral sex foreplay, Cassie and I usually start with missionary and then finish with her on top. Generally we go until both of us come -- and often at the same time. It was routine, but a routine perfected after lots of practice -- and neither of us ever seemed to be bored with it. Maybe it was my distracted thoughts, or trying to think whether she was any less tight than usual, but Cassie came before I did and was starting to get too tired to continue riding.
"You close?" she asked, "Sorry babe, I'm done. I can use my hand or my mouth..."
She climbed off me and I got up. Without a word, I held her up by her hips and moved behind her. "Pete? Okay, guess it's been a while."
We used to do doggy style a lot during our younger more experimental days, but had our roadmap to mutual orgasms and just stopped doing it. I grabbed her by the hips and, no other word for it, fucked her. I fucked her so hard, I couldn't tell if her grunts and moans were pleasure or discomfort -- and at that point didn't care. I came in her, but didn't stop fucking, continuing to slap against her.
Cassie began to squirm. "Oh god, Pete... fuck me... fuck me... Oh shit...fuuuuuck."
After her second orgasm, I pulled out of her and headed to the bathroom in the hall without a word, knowing she would go into the master bathroom.
I planned to just go to sleep when I returned but Cassie grabbed my hand, a signal for pillow talk. "Petey, that was intense, but kinda hurt at times."
"Did you like it?" I said.
"I guess, but we can't be doing that all the time. And I'm going to need give my lady parts some rest. Next time, please give me a heads up, okay?"
"Thought you wanted to fuck like teenagers?"
Cassie laughed. "You never did that to me when we were teenagers. It's okay, I didn't not like it, but next time clear it with me before you try that again -- going that rough into me."
I hate to admit it, but I doubt my forty-year-old body could thrust like that every night either. Like my wife, I kept myself in good shape by running, tai chi, and lifting weights, but that was using muscles I didn't use too often. I also felt a little guilty because while I fucked her like that, I got off knowing that I was causing her some pain. I never was much into the whole S&M thing, but rather than telling her I was upset and why I was upset, I took my frustrations out on her. That was a problem.
I'm surprised that I actually had a good sleep. Our morning pretty much was the new routine we had settled into now that we had an empty nest. No mention of any of the night before was said, though it still weighed heavily in my mind. I still gave her a smile and kiss before driving off to the college where I was a tenured English professor.
I actually met Cassie when we were both undergraduates. She was a freshman and I was a senior student volunteering to proofread new student's essays for the English Department. At one point, while we were sitting in the library, my hand was touching her arm while we discussed her coma splices. In the many years since, we've argued who was the first who initiated kissing, but she for sure was who asked to go back to my room. The sex was amazing, though we treated it like a one-night-stand. It was her first, though I didn't know that back then. I helped her a couple weeks later. It was really casual and I didn't see any indication that she wanted a repeat, so I didn't push it. I ran into her at a party that same weekend, and fueled up with liquid courage, went right up to her and kissed her while she was talking with another guy. We ended up fucking in the bathroom, and then went our separate ways, again. The next week when Cassie came for writing help, she definitely gave out vibes she wanted another sexual encounter. I asked her if we were just fuck-buddies or were we going to go out? She kissed me so hard, that a library worker gave us shit, and then told me it took long enough for me to get the hint.
Two months later, Cassie was pregnant and determined to finish her degree. Her parents hated me at first, couldn't blame them, but warmed up when they saw how dedicated I was to Cassie and Antigone. We both made sacrifices and got through university with our baby, and squeezed in a quick wedding along the way. Cassie went right into teaching, and I got a job on campus and went into grad school. The sex and our love for each other was the easiest thing about our relationship. It was the other stuff we constantly worked through, though I thought we still had a great marriage. Now, I was starting to doubt that.
At lunch, I ended up eating in a shared office with Ralph and Quinton, two of my fellow professors, who also were friends of both mine and Cassie for more than five years.
I explained what I saw in the restaurant, and what I thought it meant. As I was used to debating with English academics, I knew I had to provide explanations of why I didn't accept any other explanation other than something was going on between my wife and another man.
"Sorry, Pete," said Quinton, who is closer to my age and married for almost as long as I have, "This is what you need to do. Don't tip her off that you suspect anything. Get a lawyer and either set up cameras or hire a private investigator. Divorce courts tend to favor the wife unless there's concrete proof of cheating. You just need to be patient and get that proof."
"So just give up?" said Ralph, who is over sixty and had been divorced twice before.
