Indecent Proposal 12

We had been invited to a weekend seminar by William Jefferson, of the Boston Jefferson's (as he was wont to remind people). My wife of 5 years, Carrie, and I both worked at the same Midwest company since college graduation. A company that had recently been bought by a juggernaut corporation owned by one William Jefferson.

He had visited our headquarters where my wife worked as a writer for the business newspaper, all while waiting for her chance to make it big as a novelist. I was an engineer who dreamed of running an art studio, which made for the most unusual dual major according to my advisor in college. Apparently, Jefferson had hand picked a few couples to go to a very isolated, very exclusive resort -- Carrie and I, the CEO and his wife, and a few others; all upper echelon people in the company...very much not like Carrie, and less like me.

We had all left early Friday morning, a small convoy of vehicles heading on a two hour trip into the hills. Carrie and I chatted, much as we always do, looking forward to the weekend, and to our future. We were both young and felt that we were in a much better place than we had ever been.

When we arrived, it became apparent that Jefferson didn't just have money, but he was made of it. He was going to have a hard time saying "Do you think money just grows on trees?" to his kids, because it kind of seemed like, for him, it did. Wouldn't surprise me at all if he had an orchard of money trees, with saplings covered in ones, and 200-year growth shedding Ben Franklins in the fall.

The afternoon was amazing and the early autumn air was invigorating. Carrie and I wandered around, hand in hand, oohing and aahing over every new discovery. It was getting close to dinner, so we made our way to our room, so that I could get a quick shower before everyone gathered in the main dining room. She gave me a quick kiss and told me that she would meet me at that table, and headed out. I watched her leave, once again realizing that she was a truly beautiful woman.

Freshly showered, clean clothes, and feeling like I owned the world, I walked into the dining room, where my wife was seated at the right hand of William, and beside her was easily one of the most gorgeous women alive. Curves in all the right places, full lips, sun kissed skin. Flawless. And I was apparently destined to sit next to her since that was the only open seat.

Throughout the meal, I noticed Carrie and William talking, Carrie getting that flirtatious sound in her voice when his forehead drew near her. Yvette, the woman sitting next to me, kept attempting to draw me into conversation, but as stunning as she was on the outside, she was just as shallow on the inside. I could tell that she was supposed to get and keep my attention but I was having none of it.

Finally, William cleared his throat and all discussion ended. He fixed me with a look. "Gregory," he started (really? Gregory? My mother called me that when I forgot a chore), "I have a proposition for you."

"Really," I replied, leaning back in my chair, barely turned enough to look his way. "And what would that be?"

"I want to spend the weekend with your wife," he said, his perfect teeth gleaming in the lowering light.

"Well, luckily for you, here we are."

"No, Greg," Carrie said. "WITH me." Her emphasis made it very apparent what he meant, as she understood it.

"I see," my voice low. "So, WILLIAM, you're trying to tell me that you want to fuck my wife all weekend." A murmur of disquiet went through the room; apparently, I wasn't supposed to put it out there for all to see.

"Well," his palms up, trying for a disarming head tilt, "not every minute of the weekend." A titter from the group. "And you could avail yourself of all the charms of Yvette, who, trust me, will make you feel like a new man."

"And all I have to do is give you access to my wife. The woman I trust with my life. The only woman I can say I have ever loved. You think this," a gesture towards Yvette, "balances the scales? I wouldn't touch your whore with his dick," now pointing to the CEO.

My wife gave a look at William, a quick nod. "Carrie tells me you've long dreamt of opening your own art studio. I can help you with that. $500,000, right now." My mouth was a drawn line. "$500,000 after the weekend," he quickly added, "to ensure...tranquility."

I looked at Carrie. "You want this?" It was a question, but I knew the answer. She wouldn't even have to open her mouth. I knew.

"Yes," she replied, taking his hand in hers. "Greg, it's one weekend. We will have the rest of our lives together. I want this. And what he's offering...it would set us up for life."

I dropped my head. I took a deep breath. "I guess that's that then. She's yours." I got up and went back to our room, took off my wedding ring and put it on her pillow. I grabbed my suitcase, which I had never unpacked, and walked out to the car.

***********************************************************************

"There you are," Carrie said. "I have been looking all over for you."

I had been lying on the beach (no, not perpetrating a tan), when her shadow fell over me, blocking the sun. "Do you mind?"

"Oh, sorry," scampering to her right. "Is this taken," pointing to the chair on my left.

"Nope, help yourself." She settled in with a sigh. "What took you so long?"

"Ugh, just everything. When you left, William tossed in another million. I was sobbing, just a wreck. He felt awful, destroying our marriage. Your resignation caused a ruckus, and they were on me, to try and get you back to work. Finally, I quit, telling them that they were stressing me out at the most difficult time of my marriage."

I looked over at her. My heart...every time I looked at her, I knew that she was the only woman I would ever marry. The only woman I would ever love. She was the first girl I kissed, back in 3rd grade. We had grown up together, our parents living next door to one another. We slept over at each other's house as often as we slept at our own. Well, until puberty. Then our parents decided we needed to sleep apart.

But other than those sleeping hours, we were always together. She was my junior and senior prom date. The girl that I danced with at every school function. We went to movies together, and everyone knew we would be together forever.

The only fly in that ointment was that I'm gay. Had been all my life. And Carrie? Carrie was my best, dearest friend, and "dated" me, so that no one ever caught on. Why didn't she date other guys? She could never give me a good answer, just that no one ever really caught her eye.

When we went to college, she hooked up with some men, went out occasionally, but no one "clicked", as she put it. She studied, I studied, we still hung out, we graduated together. And as luck would have it, we got hired at the same company. The same company in a very conservative area. Where a single man who never dated women would get noticed. And not in a positive way.

It was Carrie's idea to get hitched. I told her no. A thousand times I said no, and a thousand times, she came back with a good reason to marry her. I asked her didn't she want to get laid, she said she had box full of toys that lasted longer than any man she had been with, and they never got jealous if she chose to use one over the other. Or both at the same time.

So, we got an apartment, explained to our parents that we wanted a small quiet wedding, and we went to the court and had a JP wedding. And life rolled along, with Carrie working and writing, and working and editing, and working and deleting and then starting over. And I worked and supported her dream in whichever way I could. I was cook and chief bottle washer. I was her beta reader. We made it a point to take a break and Netflix on weekends, or to go to a museum, or an art show.

Which is where I met Terry. We had been married just over 4 years and were at an out of town art show. We had rented a room at a very nice hotel (two beds...I love her to death, but she needs like 8 covers until the bed is hot enough to cook a roast). We were at a gallery showing highly detailed, very lifelike paintings (think Las Meninas by Diego Velázquez) when Carrie noticed a man looking at us, frequently. I looked the way she indicated and I was frozen. He was gorgeous. But not like a model. Like from the inside out. He was Carrie, only in a form that I appreciated. When he saw me look his way, and my reaction, he decided to come over and introduce himself. His said his name was Terry. And suddenly, two became three.

After that weekend, I made trips to his city every so often, he came to visit just as frequently (Carrie's long lost cousin, y'know), and we Skyped every night we weren't together. We both fell in love and we both let each other know, verbally and physically. But I still lived where I lived, and this was where my work was. And where Carrie was. Terry knew how I felt about Carrie, and understood, but also made it clear that while he loved me, he wouldn't wait forever.

And then Carrie came bouncing up to me one night after work, shortly after William Jefferson had bought the company. She said that he had been flirting with her, but she kept him at arms' length, to keep up the appearances of our happy marriage. The more she flashed her ring, the more interested he became. She accepted his invitation of lunch, where he led the discussion, asking all about her husband and his interests. Carrie accurately described how Greg was the much more domesticated one (something she adored about him) and William filed that away (thinking it made him subservient). And after a handful of lunches, William started making it known that he was interested in her. The lunches grew longer and William was becoming...if not desperate, at least a bit distressed. Finally, he made his pitch, a weekend away. No, Carrie couldn't do that. Another lunch. We could make it a trade, William countered, with a woman to die for. Still no. Yet another lunch. William would make it every man's fantasy weekend AND lend him money to start his gallery. Maybe that, she hinted. The last lunch -- a check, not a loan, and Yvette. So long as it doesn't wreck her marriage, her eyelashes batting at him.

"Wait. You're going to sleep with him for money? No, just no." I didn't want her to do that for me. For anyone.

"Please," she said dismissively, eyes rolling. "If we weren't 'married', I'd fuck him just for the hell of it. Plus, he's hitting on a married woman. He NEEDS to pay for that."

"You want to sleep with him?"

"He's handsome, and hung from what I can tell. Yeah, I'd like to try that out once. He's no one I'd want to be with for a long time...I mean, really. He's so horned up, he doesn't care about the consequences."

I looked at her. "Okay, calm down. Your pussy isn't magic. I doubt he's going to write us a check to get in your pants."

Carrie grinned at me. "Shit, my pussy is so good, it would turn you straight." She got serious. "Greg, we could leave here. You start your gallery, settle down with Terry...if you let me stay with you, I could focus on my writing...and I get laid. What's not to like about this?"

So we got Terry on the phone and talked about it. Would he move to be with me? Would tomorrow be too early was his reply. We sketched everything out. Our responses. Our timing. Everything.

It was Wednesday night. Carrie came home. "It's this weekend. You ready for this?" We were laying in my bed, our heads touching, like we had always done.

"This is going to sound weird," I started. I rolled on my side, Carrie rolled on hers, facing me. "I don't want to lose you. I love you so much, you're part of me. We've been together for so long..."

"Shhhhh," her hand stroking my face. "You and me. We're one. You will always have my heart and soul, and I have yours. The love we have, it's stronger than brother and sister, because there's no blood there. It's will, and love, and life. You will never lose me. When I get married, IF I get married, you are my man of honor. You will be my children's godfather. We will be together forever."

"I love you, Carrie McCoy."

"I love you, Greg McCoy. Now let's go get you some money and me some dick and start our best lives."

And that's what we did.

***********************************************************************

"Where's Terry?"

"He went to get some drinks," I told her, looking around. "There he is." I waved at him, and he grinned and slowly walked up to us.

"Hey, beautiful," kissing Carrie on her cheek.

"Hey yourself, handsome." Carrie sat back. "So, want to hear the rest of it?"

"Of course," I said, Terry nodding his head.

"So, first and foremost...that man can ball. Oh my goodness, I came more that weekend than I have all through college. Combined, probably. Almost made me feel bad for what we did." She opened the water bottle she brought and took a sip. "Sunday morning, I went back to our room..."

"You fucked him all weekend??? You slut!" I was laughing at how red her face became.

"ANYway, I get back to our room and there is your wedding ring, right on the pillow. Nice touch, by the way. I screamed, William comes running, sees the ring, and immediately starts getting frantic. Worried this will get out, worried about lawsuits, just pacing. This has never happened before, Yvette keeps them in line...Oh, and 'touch your whore with his dick'? Maybe a little over the top?"

"I improvised."

"So he starts bargaining. 'Another hundred thousand. No, two hundred thousand.' By the time that I gathered my things, he had his limo out front and had wired $2 million into our account."

My mouth fell open. Two million? "He gave us two million???"

Carrie grinned at me. "Two words. Magic. Pussy."

EPILOGUE

It was a bumpy ride, but the gallery is going swimmingly. Carrie lived with Terry and I for another couple of years. She never wrote the great American novel. No, she ended up writing books for some sci fi show. Pops out a couple of books a year and makes a ton of money off of them. She used to travel to conventions; not to sell, but to talk. She was so popular that she was as much in demand as the actors from the show. She met Danny, a fellow author there. They ran into each other at a bunch of conventions, then met up outside of the conventions, and eventually fell in love. One quicky divorce (ours), one actual wedding ceremony (that was an uncomfortable discussion with our parents, on multiple levels), and three kids later, and we live right next door to each other, in the suburbs, an hour's drive to the gallery. Close enough to get to, far enough away not to intrude on our lives.

Three years ago, Terry died of cancer. 10 amazing years together. I was a wreck, but Carrie got me through it. Now, I am cook and chief bottle washer to my godkids, father to a Corgi named Peanut, and guardian of my best friend.

...the only woman I've ever loved.