Monogamy: It's Complicated

The Encounter

Marcie:

The next day, we drove home in silence. I was contemplating Bill's revelation and his philosophy about love, marriage and monogamy. It was certainly different from the "rules" I had grown up under. The rules that governed my morality included never engaging in a sex act that I didn't control. When I was having sex, I had to maintain control. My need for control was paramount. It prevented me from complete spontaneity and kept me from abandoned freedom to enjoy the moment. I envied Bill's belief that marriage should be governed by the rules each partner sets; that we should be free from the sexual restraints of a traditional marriage I just wasn't sure I could rid myself of the cloak of control that I had inherited. I certainly didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize Bill's love or our marriage. Like he said, "it's complicated".

One evening about two weeks later, Bill and I were sitting on opposite ends of the couch lost in thought when he asked,

"Do you know what I want for my birthday? It's the Saturday after next," he declared.

"No."

Bill jokingly asked, "No what? No you don't know what I want, or no you didn't remember my birthday is coming?"

"No," I giggled, "I haven't forgotten your birthday; but, I don't know what you want."

After a short hesitation, he said "I want to do it," he said.

"You want to do what?" I asked.

"I want you to go to a hotel bar and see if a guy will pick you up."

I looked at him incredulously. "Are you crazy? I already told you that I am not having sex with some stranger!"

"I don't mean have sex, just do a little role-playing. It would be fun, and it would be a huge turn-on for me," he replied.

After a moment to consider his request, I asked, "Would you be there, watching?"

"Of course. I'd be there the whole time and any time you want to stop, just give me the high- sign and I'll tell the guy to shove off."

I thought some more, remembering Bill's fantasy and very vivid imagination. "Well, I don't know. It feels pretty creepy and scary to me. I sure wouldn't want anyone we know to see me." I said.

"No problem. We could go to the Marriott in the Marina. There are always lots of business men staying there and the lounge is very dark and comfortable. I could stay in the background and be ready to rescue you at any time." he said with his most eager, little boy grin.

"I see you've given this considerable thought," I told him with a chuckle, shaking my head. "I'll have to think about it."

The subject was dropped.

The following week I thought of little else. Bill's acceptance of sexual role-playing outside of the marriage was both appealing and very frightening. What happens if I do something he doesn't like? How do I know the boundaries? I was having trouble balancing my desire to meet Bill's expectations and wishes against my own deep-seated feelings of guilt for allowing my previous sexual desires shame my family all those years ago. I certainly didn't want to shame myself or Bill! I wanted to explore Bill's theories of sexual freedom and marriage, but at the same time I didn't. My feelings were complicated!

Again, Alice and I were having lunch alone at school and I told her about the weekend at the beach, the movie and how that led to mind-blowing sex. Almost reluctantly, I also told her about Bill's subsequent request for a birthday present.

As though she was out of breath, she gasped, "Are you going to do it?"

"I don't know. Being picked up in a bar is not me, but Bill seems really eager. I have to admit it sounds exciting and certainly triggers my imagination; but I just don't know. Part of me wants to please Bill, but I'm just not sure."

"Marcie, I understand but I don't see why this is that hard for you. You weren't shy about having sex with your past boyfriends, some of whom you hardly knew. Besides, this isn't about you having sex with some stranger. Bill's only talking about some harmless flirting and hand-holding. What's the problem with that?" Alice asked.

"The problem is that Bill will be watching. What happens if he becomes jealous and gets angry? It could ruin a great marriage." I retorted.

"It could also make the marriage even better," she said. "Besides, it's his idea, he's setting it up. Make sure he controls everything and that he is watching all the time. That way, he is responsible for the entire encounter and later he can't blame you for anything that happens."

"I still don't know. It just feels wrong. I need to think about it some more," I said as the bell rang. Just like the last time we talked, I thought of little else the rest of the day.

That night, after climbing into bed but before turning out the light I said, "Ok, you've got your birthday present."

Bill almost jumped out of bed he was so shocked.

He said, "Really. What made you change your mind?"

"I haven't changed my mind about NOT having sex with a stranger in some hotel"!

"No. No, I understand that. This is great. I'll arrange everything for next Saturday night."

"Ok, but I don't want any surprises. You have to tell me what you're doing. I'm still not sure and the idea scares me to death."

"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of everything and I won't be more than a few steps from you all night. I promise."

As I turned out the light, Bill reached for me and I knew we were going to have another round of great sex. I had to smile because he is so predictable.

Bill

The next Wednesday my shift didn't start until midnight, so I took Marcie out to dinner. We finished about nine and I suggested that we go to the Marriott hotel in the Marina for a drink and to check out the lounge.

"Why?" Marcie asked.

"I know you're nervous about Saturday, and frankly so am I. I just think it would make us both feel better if we see the bar set-up and decide where you should sit and where I can sit so I can see you."

"OK," Marcie said after a brief hesitation.

We walked into the bar. It was large with the horse-shoe shaped bar directly in front of the door. The bar itself was table height for the patrons, with the area where the bartenders worked sunken about 4 feet below the floor of the lounge. The bar was surrounded by comfortable, red leather covered barrel chairs permanently affixed to swivels. A mirror wrapped around the bar opposite the patrons so anyone sitting at the bar could see the room behind them. To the left of the bar was a small dance floor with a raised platform on which a guitarist was crooning soft ballads. On the opposite side of the bar were a few small tables and the walls were lined with high-backed booths covered in dark leather. Dark maroon carpet complemented the equally dark walls covered with sound-proofing material. All of the tables were covered with dark red tablecloths.

When we walked in, I noticed that there were probably 20 men and women sitting around the room and a dozen men at the bar. Everyone was well dressed and the noise level was low. Marcie and I sat at the bar on the side away from the musician.

I ordered us both wine and said, "This is pretty nice, don't you think?"

Marcie looked around the room, checking out the men seated at the bar and said, "Yea, I guess so."

I could tell she wasn't entirely sold.

We talked for a while and then I said in a hushed voice, "We need to have a cover story for you if some guy asks about you and why you're here alone."

My comment sort of broke the ice because Marcie laughed and said, "Leave it to a cop to come up with a 'cover story'."

I laughed too and said, "Ok, but just in case, your name is Annie James, you're married and I work for Sony pictures scouting shooting locations. I'm supposed to meet you here, but I'm running late."

Marcie smiled and said, "My, you've given this a lot of thought. Have you also decided what I'm going to wear?"

"As a matter of fact, I have, Miss 'Know-It-All'. You can wear that little black dress with the zipper you bought a couple of months ago and very high heels to show off your beautiful ass."

"It'll be a little chilly out. Can I at least wear that short black leather coat I have," she asked sarcastically.

"Yes, but you have to promise to take it off in here," I mockingly said with a smile.

"OK," Marcie said draining the rest of her wine. "Let's go. I've seen enough."

As we walked out Marcie squeezed my hand as she whispered in my ear, "I love you a whole lot. I hope you know that."

I whispered back, "I know!"

Marcie

All day Saturday I became more and more nervous. Bill worked the night before and got home about 8 am. He slept until 3 pm. We planned to go to the hotel about 10 that night. As the hours seemed to drag on, Bill ran some errands and I rehearsed my story if someone questioned me about Bill.

Bill got home and we had a somewhat silent dinner as we were each immersed in our own thoughts and plans. Bill cleaned up the kitchen while I took a long, hot bath, shaved my legs and washed my hair. As I dried and styled my hair, I heard Bill in the bedroom whistling as he got dressed.

After he left, I walked into the bedroom and Bill had laid out the black dress he wanted me to wear. I chose a very sexy pair of black lace "shortie" underpants and a matching bra I got from Victoria's Secret. Bill had also put my black four-inch spike "fuck me" pumps on the floor next to the bed. I smiled as I considered how detailed his fantasy must be. I could only hope he knew what he was doing since I wasn't at all sure that I did.

I pulled on the panties but couldn't pull them too tight unless I wanted to show-off the lips of my pussy. The bra came next. It was really a shelf upon which my breasts rested with the nipples only partially covered by black lace. I had to manually arrange my breasts inside the half cups. I stepped into the dress and wiggled it up over my hips. I put my arms through the openings and closed the zipper. The zipper is what made my dress sexy. It was an overly large one that began at my waist under my left arm, ran under my left breast and up between my breasts to the center of the neckline. It was made more eye-catching by the white piping trim on both sides and a large, silver ring attached to the tab of the runner.

Above the scoop of the neckline my breasts looked like they were going to explode out of the dress; especially, when all you had to do was pull the silver ring down and the front of my dress would fall open to the waist.

I once more checked my make up in the bathroom and examined myself in the mirror. I had to laugh... I certainly didn't look at all like a happily married school teacher from Indiana.

When I walked into the living room all Bill could say was, "Wow" as he gave me his best wolf whistle.

Feigning far more bravado than I really felt, I jauntily walked by him, groped the front of his pants and said "I'm ready when you are, stud."

I accentuated the sway of my hips as I preceded him out the front door and to the car.

After parking the car at the hotel, I nervously walked beside Bill toward the front of the hotel. As we got near the doors, I felt Bill begin to slow down.

I stopped, faced him and said, "I will walk into the bar by myself, but I will not walk into the hotel alone like some hired escort."

Chastened, Bill took my hand and led me into the hotel lobby.

We stopped in the lobby and he whispered in my ear, "I'll stay out here for about 15 minutes and then come in. I love you so very much. This is the best birthday present ever. Thank you."

I pressed my body against his and said, "I know and you're welcome. Just don't forget me."

I released his hand and walked into the bar stopping just inside the door so my eyes could adjust to the darkness. Once I got my bearings, with as much confidence as I could raise, I walked to my designated seat at the bar.

I ordered a glass of wine and thought, what am I doing here? This is way outside my comfort zone. If I didn't love Bill so much, and have so much faith in his love and protection, I could never be here. Fortunately, my wine arrived and I took a big sip as I surveyed the room.

The tables were fairly well occupied and there was a three-piece band playing instead of the previous single musician. In the mirror I could see that my side of the bar had about 8 or 9 guys and one woman sitting there. Without intending to, I looked her over and decided that she didn't present much competition.

A few minutes later I glimpsed Bill walk in and take a booth near the rear of the bar. There were several back there and I could hardly see him it was so dark. I completed one wine and ordered another. I wasn't keeping track of time and decided that I better pace my drinking.

The second glass arrived and the wine began to fog my brain. Sitting there alone felt so foreign to me. I thought, "I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't be here." I was finishing my second wine when my brain almost shouted, "Marcie, you are a married school teacher. You need to stand up right now and walk over to Bill and tell him that you can't be the harlot in his fantasy play."

It was at that moment I thought, "That's it. This is an improvisational play written and staged by my husband. He's the director. I'm an actress, and like all actresses, I can do this to please the director -- my husband. There are no scripted lines. The actors improvise their lines based on what their characters would say and do under the same circumstances. I can do this. I'm an actress. When the scene ends, the director will yell 'cut' and everything will end. Where's the harm? Just a little flirting and possibly some fondling."

With this realization I felt like I was stepping out of the play, out of the chair, away from the bar and was transported to a seat in the audience. The bar scene was on the stage before me and Annie James had taken my place. All the other people-actors were in place. As I watched, Annie James took the finishing sip from her second wine. Just when I thought perhaps the scene would end without achieving the director's expectation, Annie heard a deep, baritone voice say,

"Is this seat taken?"

I saw her swivel around and look up to see the leading man in this play standing above her. He wasn't handsome like a leading man. His face was long and angular with sharply chiseled cheekbones and chin. He smiled, revealing artificially whitened teeth, but there was no warmth in his dark, deep-set eyes. His hair was black and combed back with wisps of gray on the sides. He clearly valued his appearance in a finely tailored suit with a light blue shirt without a tie. He wasn't muscular but he must work-out regularly.

Annie said "No" and swiveled her chair back to face her wine, but not before a small tingle ran through my brain and down my spinal nerves to my loins.

The man sat and extended his large hand saying, "Hello, I'm Paul Levine from New York."

Annie hesitated only briefly before placing her hand in his and saying, "I'm Annie James from Los Angeles."

"Well, Annie James from Los Angeles, may I buy you another wine?" asked Paul in a slightly mocking tone.

Annie again hesitated as she considered his offer and then she boldly replied, "I'll have what you're drinking."

Still holding her hand in his strong grip, Paul turned to the bartender and said, "Two Canadian Blacks, neat."

Paul continued to hold Annie's hand for an awkwardly long time. When he finally released it, I again felt that tiny tingle hit my loins as the heat of Paul's skin was withdrawn.

Swiveling his chair toward her, Paul asked, "What brings you here, Annie"?

She looked back at him and responded, "I'm waiting for my husband," as she held up her left hand and wiggled the ring on her finger. "He'll be here in about 15 minutes. What brings you here, Paul?"

"I'm an attorney in New York and I finished deposing a witness for a trial that begins Monday."

"Was the witness good for your client?" Annie asked.

"Yes, very. I think this witness will win the case and both my client and I will make a lot of money," Paul said with a self-satisfied chuckle.

You're an arrogant prick, I thought.

The drinks arrived and Paul raised his glass of dark amber liquor and said, "To your husband's arrival in 15 minutes. I look forward to entertaining you until he arrives, if you will allow me."

"I look forward to it," Annie said with a smile as she touched her glass with his.

She took a large sip and I felt the fire explode in my mouth before coursing down my throat to consume the heat I already felt in my stomach. Annie then put the glass down with a clunk and took several shallow breaths trying to dissipate the flaming vapors of the alcohol.

Paul chuckled and said, "The first swallow is always like that. It'll get easier with each sip and soon it'll go down as smoothly as 'mother's milk'."

"I hope so," whispered Annie hoarsely.

Paul and Annie continued to speak softly and sip their drinks. In a while she was turned toward Paul and him toward her. Her knees were together under her very short skirt and his legs trapped hers between them with his feet firmly planted on the floor. Their heads drew closer together as they talked. Because of their close and intimate proximity, the sexual tension between Annie and Paul soon sizzled!

In no time Annie was working on her second, very strong, Canadian Black Velvet drink and I could feel the fuzzy buzz in my brain. Sexual butterflies were fluttering throughout my body.

Several times Paul leaned forward and whispered in Annie's ear. Each time, she shook her head "No", but each time her head shake was less emphatic.

Without forewarning, Paul hooked his finger through the ring of the zipper and pulled it down about two inches. He could now see the full swell of her breasts and a sliver of the black lace of her bra. He whispered, "What would you do if I pulled this all the way down?"

Annie, placing her hand around his said, "First, I'd scream and second, I'd slap you!"

"I sure wouldn't want you to scream, but the slap might be worth it," Paul chuckled. He lowered his eyes to peer at the heaving breasts he had revealed. Paul reluctantly released the ring and lowered his hand to Annie's thighs, placing it well above her knees and just below the hem of her skirt. Without touching the zipper, Annie returned her hand to the arm of her chair.

She started to cross her legs but Paul stopped her with his hand and whispered the command, "Don't," adding "please" as an afterthought.

My befuddled mind was whirling with possibilities of what could happen next. In response to each I kept thinking, "I can't, I'm a school teacher. I can't, I'm happily married". In response to each of these declarations, my aroused body said, "No, you're not a school teacher and you're not happily married. You're not Marcie, you're Annie James and you want to explore those possibilities. You can do this! You must do this! This is what your director wants and expects you to do. After all, I rationalized, he already told you there would be some flirting, touching and feeling."

Paul slipped his fingers into the space between Annie's legs. She pressed her knees more tightly together but Paul simply increased the pressure of his fingers as they sought more space.

I watched his movement and saw his hand on Annie's leg, but I felt the pressure of Paul's fingers between my knees grow stronger and my resistance grow weaker. As if they had a mind separate from my own, my legs began to part.

Paul again leaned forward to whisper in Annie's ear. She again shook her head "No". When she did, Paul inched his hand forward with his fingers sensually massaging Annie's inner thighs well above the hem of her dress. Each time she said "No" to Paul's whispers, his hand inched further up between her legs.