New England Triad Ch 05

Chapter 05

Ann returns from Pittsburgh with a surprising tale of Chinese food, adultery, and racial harmony.

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

The story so far:

Ann (a technical writer) and Beth (a freelance graphic designer) work together at Edson-Kelly. Stephen (an English professor and the narrator) is married to Ann and having an affair with Beth. Ann knows, because everybody is being honest with one another. Five years ago, Ann herself had a brief extramarital affair. One night last month, Ann and Beth had sex with each other and then a threesome with Stephen.

It's now early September, the Sunday after Labor Day. Ann spent the past four days out-of-town on a business trip; she returns today. Last night--following some 3-way watersports with Beth and her housemate Dev--Stephen spent his first night in Beth's bed.

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

The alarm clock woke Beth and me Sunday morning at 7:30. We kissed and cuddled for a few minutes, then we dressed: clean bike clothes for me, sweatpants and a T-shirt, no bra, for Beth. Dev, asleep in her room, would have to wait for another occasion to see me the way she mentioned yesterday: wearing nothing but an unzipped bike jersey. That's how Beth and I both were dressed during our first sex, outdoors in a clearing, back in July.

While Beth made breakfast for us, I readied the bike for my trip home. We ate, then we tried to tell rach other how wonderful the past 15 hours had been. Neither of us did a very good job of it, but we both understood the message. We embraced at the front door, then I retrieved my bike from the garage, closed the garage door behind me, and headed home. I arrived in plenty of time to shower, dress, and drive to the airport for my wife's 12:15 arrival.

Ann seemed very tired and still a bit tense. I'm sure she had had a stressful four and a half days in Pittsburgh, with long hours each day. And she would have been on her feet much of the time--except when she was sitting in a skirt by Edson-Kelly's display booth, crossing her legs and displaying her pretty thighs. She'd be cheesecake this one time to help the team, but if they wanted a new Bette Jankowski for future trade shows, they'd have to go hire one.

Riding home in the car, Ann wasn't in a talkative mood. To a couple of my questions about Pittsburgh she replied simply, "Can I tell you about it after we get home?" I decided not to press her.

Home, I fixed her a light lunch and a glass of chardonnay while she changed into comfortable clothes. After the lunch she was both more relaxed and more communicative. But something seemed to be on her mind. When she poured herself a second glass of wine, alarm bells sounded. A second glass during the day often is a sign that something is weighing on her. We adjourned to the living room and sat on the sofa together, my hand on her thigh.

"Did you have a nice dinner at Beth's?" she asked.

"Very nice. She made quite a good lasagna, with whole-wheat noodles, even. Plus I got to meet Dev, the housemate. A charming and very pretty Indian lady. Ph.D. candidate in biochemistry."

"And did you have sex with her too?"

I figured that "yes" and "no" were about equally close to the truth, so either would do.

"No, of course not," I said. "Why would you ask that?"

"But you did sleep with Beth, both literally and figuratively."

"Yes. With the explicit permission of my wife, granted Wednesday morning in Terminal A."

"The explicit permission was for spending the night together, not for having sex."

"Ann, this conversation has gone beyond strange and is entering bizarre territory."

Ann took another sip of chardonnay. "You're right. I've got sex on the brain, I guess.... Stephen, we have begun taking extramarital sex far too casually."

The verb struck me as odd. Not "have taken" or "are taking" but "have begun taking"--as though something had changed recently. But Beth has been in my life for two months.

"I'm not quite sure what you're referring to, Ann," I said. "My odd relationship with Beth could be called many things, but I don't really think that 'casual' fits, exactly. Or were you referring to

your

sex with Beth? Maybe you could call that casual. It struck me as quite lovely."

Ann set her wineglass down on the coffee table and looked at me directly. "Stephen, I have been sexually faithful to my husband for most of our ten-year marriage, with one major lapse in the middle. After that lapse I was entirely faithful for the next five years. Then last month I had casual sex with Beth. Then this week I had extremely casual sex with a man and spent the night with him.... I am not the girl you married, right? I am not sure I like the girl I seem to be becoming."

Uh-oh. This could be a disaster, I thought. If she felt that the two of us had better return to the straight-and-narrow path, where does that leave Beth?

With luck Ann hasn't come to a firm decision yet, I figured. She's talking to me now to try to figure out for herself exactly what she thinks and feels and wants. Somehow I have to head off an

ultimatum

. All right: let's give it a try.

I put my arm around her and kissed her head. "Ann, you have never, ever been unfaithful to me or to our marriage--even on those rare occasions you've been in the arms of somebody else. If anything, the affair with Paul brought us even closer together."

Now should I say the same about Beth? Maybe that's too risky at this moment. I continued:

"I'm sure there are perfectly good and valid reasons for whatever happened in Pittsburgh. And probably there is nothing you need to apologize for. Please don't beat yourself up about this. I'm glad you weren't alone and miserable the whole time. I'm glad you're a human being, not a well-programmed robot. I love you always, as deeply as ever--which is pretty deep.... Do you feel like talking about it now?"

If I had had an hour's notice I could have composed a better speech. Still, I thought that one had been decent enough for something improvised on the spot.

Days later it occurred to me how selfishly I had reacted. Ann had come to me, feeling troubled about things she had just done, and my main concern had been protecting my affair with Beth. Ann deserved better than that from me. I should work harder at being a good husband, I thought--at least the parts of being a good husband that didn't involve giving up Beth.

But also, come to think of it, maybe I was more upset by Ann's infidelity than I realized at first. Having a successful "open marriage" is always easiest when

you're

the one expanding your horizons, and your spouse is content with you alone. When the horizon-expanding gets mutual... well, a complicated situation starts getting even more complicated, doesn't it?

But getting back to Sunday afternoon: I had invited Ann to tell the story, and she thought that now was as good a time as any to do so. Or at least to begin telling the story--it was a long one.

She made it pretty much to the end of the story before the fatigue returned and the alcohol kicked in and she just wanted to go to bed and sleep. She set her alarm for 10 AM: the company had given her Monday morning off.

Once Ann had fallen asleep--it was around 5--I toyed with the idea of dashing over to Beth's for some sex. I certainly wasn't going to get any from Ann tonight. But clearer thinking prevailed. If Ann woke up in the night I had better be present and accounted for. And Beth probably wouldn't like being used like that, either. I couldn't help wondering if Dev might be available. Let's not go there.

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

Here is the story that Ann told me on Sunday, as accurately as I can remember it. A few details came out in a later conversation. I'll splice them in here just for clarity. I'll cut out some of my own prompts and questions and get everything in more or less the right chronological order. But, pretty much, this is what Ann said:

"The flight out went just fine. Everything was on time, for once. We were all checked into the Westin by 1:30 or so. We were less than a block from the Convention Center, so that was convenient. I was the only girl in our group, so I got a single room. Most of the guys shared doubles. The room was nice enough--typical convention-hotel stuff. The bed was nice and firm, so that was fine.

"After we unpacked and settled in a bit, we walked over to the Convention Center together, registered, picked up our exhibitors' badges and so on, and finally found the right trade show. The logistics company had gotten there before us. Our booth was all set up in the right place, and the boxes with all our brochures and display samples and giveaways were there.

"The guys set about decorating the booth and getting all the brochures and display items into the right places. They knew what the booth was supposed to look like more than I did. I decided to wander around a bit, stretch my legs. I made sure I had Gerry's phone number--he was in charge of our exhibit--and he had mine. Then I wandered around the exhibit hall for awhile--see what other companies were there, see if anybody I knew was around.

I found Telechron's booth. Matt Verplanck was there, setting up. We knew each other slightly back when, and he remembered me. Paul wasn't coming, you may or may not be glad to hear." Ann gave me a little smile along with that one.

Just as well Paul stayed home, I thought. One racy story starring Ann is plenty for now. I didn't need to hear two.

Ann continued. "Anyway, I wandered around the exhibit hall, starting to get a little bored, when I came across Hitachi's display. Of course theirs was much larger than ours. And they do make a lot of interesting stuff. Okay, I thought, I'll do a little snooping on a competitor. Not that I was likely to discover anything everybody didn't already know.

"I vaguely recognized one of the guys setting up there. How? I don't know anybody at Hitachi. I was trying not to stare. He glanced at me but didn't react."

"So it turns out you knew him?" I asked.

Ann ignored my question. "Then at last I was able to read his name tag. I practically shouted: 'Justin!' It was Justin Abernathy! He turned, looked at my face, looked down at my name tag. Of course 'Lancome' didn't ring a bell for him. I was about to tell him when he said, 'Ann Borthwick!' We gave each other a big hug."

Justin Abernathy? I don't think that was among the first eight entries on my chronological list of Ann's lovers. I'd better make that "Ann's male lovers." I held position number nine. Justin must be number 11. Welcome to the club, Justin, I guess.

"'Justin Abernathy' is not ringing a bell for me, either, Ann. Who's he?"

"A very sweet boy I used to know in college. We dated some, freshman year. It all seems so tame and innocent now, though I remember it felt pretty torrid at the time. We necked a lot, and I'd let him take off my bra and play with my breasts. After feeling ugly and flat-chested all through high school, what a pleasure to find a boy who thought my body was very sexy. He wanted to go a good deal further than just play with my breasts, but I wouldn't let him. At 18 I was a serious virgin, saving my precious hymen for my future husband."

"Well, that plan fell through," I observed.

"Did it ever! Although I must say that no husband of mine ever complained that, by our wedding day, I knew my way around a bed. Anyway, poor Justin was just a victim of bad timing. We drifted apart about the time I started drifting in other ways. But I always liked him."

"So tell me more about Pittsburgh."

"You need the details filled in?"

"Of course," I said. "I'm an English major. We love and insist on concrete, visualizable details. I mean, I think I do grasp the general outline of the plot by now."

She knew I would say something along those lines. So here came the details.

"Justin invited me out to dinner that evening. Of course I said yes. Gerry told me to go ahead and have fun; just be at the booth by nine the next morning. The trade show officially started at noon. There'd be presentations in a handful of meeting rooms; and before, after, and during that, attendees would be browsing the exhibit area. If only to pick up some free swag and ogle some of the ladies on display there--including your long-suffering wife, I must say. Apparently Justin and you are not the only people who think I have nice breasts. Perhaps I shouldn't have found that part pleasing, but people with bodies like mine don't usually get a whole lot of attention."

"Ann, your body is gorgeous and sexy, and your breasts are absolutely beautiful. I trust your legs were appreciated too?"

"That was my impression. But let me get back to Wednesday. It turns out Justin knew Pittsburgh pretty well. Seems he had changed his college major to engineering, and afterwards he did some graduate work at Carnegie-Mellon. He took me to this wonderful upscale Chinese restaurant in Squirrel Hill. That's the Jewish neighborhood--or used to be the Jewish neighborhood. It's now pretty cosmopolitan, I guess--lots of

goyim,

Asians, Arabs, Blacks, Jews, you name it. Along with little kosher butcher shops and delis and things. A really nice part of town. Anyway, the food was wonderful. Like nothing Asian I've seen around here.

"So over dinner we renewed our acquaintance and caught up on events since freshman year. He's now working for Hitachi R&D, outside of Boston. He's practically a neighbor. He's doing double duty at the trade show: attending some of the presentations and panel discussions, manning the booth at other times.

"Of course I told him about you--nothing too personal--and of course I was wearing my wedding ring. Justin had been in a couple of committed relationships but never married. He's seeing a girl now, but they hadn't gotten super serious about each other. Just for your information.

"Justin and I were not at all swept off our feet, like another couple or two I could mention, but we were quite enjoying each other's company. I reminded him of how much he had liked my breasts back then, and I told him--I'm sure for the first time--how wonderful that had made me feel. You can imagine what happened next."

"In the restaurant?" I said.

"Well, it was a Wednesday, so the place was not at all crowded. And I had to go to the ladies' room. There was a corridor leading to the rest rooms, and it wasn't particularly well lit. We went to the end of the corridor, and I let him unbutton my blouse and unhook my bra and fondle my breasts for awhile. Suck as well as fondle, to be candid. Just for old times' sake... but of course it felt very naughty, and it was quite arousing.

"We couldn't stay as long as we would have liked because we didn't want them to clear away our plates, and I did have to pee. So Justin went back to the table, and a few minutes later I rejoined him.

"Obviously--at least very probably--a year ago this would not have happened. But our household norms kind of shifted this summer, didn't they? After your husband starts an affair, and then you have sex with your husband's girlfriend, what's a little extramarital fondling from an old boyfriend? It practically seemed like good, clean, wholesome fun, by comparison."

I forced myself not to remark that the person who first shifted our household norms was Ann herself, and the shifting began not this summer but five years ago. Instead I just gave her a wry smile and asked, "And you fondled him too?"

"Oh, I guess I did. His chest and then... lower. Just over his clothes, of course. I even did that for him a little bit back in college, though not much. Everything below the waist was just too scary for me to deal with back then.

"After dinner we wanted to be together a while longer, so we discussed our next move. Justin suggested a jazz club he knew on the Hill--that's the Black neighborhood. That did sound appealing, but I was kind of worried about being conspicuous. You know I'm basically pretty shy--despite the amount of pantyhose I was displaying at the booth the next day.

"Anyway, Justin was staying at the Hilton, and there was a club there. We went there, had a few drinks, and danced a little. That part was nice. You don't like to dance, and I understand that, and I'm not a great dancer myself, but I do like to go dancing once in a long while. Which I haven't done since... not for a long time."

It was sweet of her to end that sentence so tactfully. After that "since" could have come, "the Telechron Christmas party, where I fucked Paul in the parking lot."

"Justin dances pretty well. I enjoyed being in his arms in the slow dances, and, truth be told, we did let our hands wander some more. He has a very attractive and sexy body. Very nice chest, nice bottom. Not a nicer body than yours, just different.

"But neither of us liked the atmosphere of the club that much, and the music was just so-so. He invited me up to his room. He was sophisticated enough not to add "for a nightcap" or anything lame like that. I took that as a compliment. He was sharing a room, but he could arrange a few hours' privacy. That was a bit too much like college for me. I had a single room; let's go there. No refreshments there, though. Did he happen to have anything to drink up in his room? He did.

"Up he went to get the bottle of Cutty Sark and a paper bag; down he came; and off we walked to the Westin. Pittsburgh is a pretty safe city, and the downtown area is small, so everything is within walking distance.

"The guys in our group, plus a couple executives, were on the same floor I was, so I wanted to be discreet. I'm working in a mostly male company. I have a reputation of being a serious professional, someone who should be taken seriously--insofar as anyone actually takes technical writers seriously. The guys see me as broad-minded, you know? but nobody's sex toy. Needless to say I didn't want to flush all that down the tubes by being caught with a strange man tip-toeing into or out of my room--worse, a man working for a big competitor--and a Black man, at that."

"Justin is Black?"

"Very. Like half Jamaican and half pure African. Ghana, I think. He told me years ago. I forget the tribe--or rather, people. Ashanti, maybe? Are they in Ghana?"

I had no idea. Remind me to add African ethnography to the long list of subjects I really ought to learn something about one of these days.

"Anyway," Ann continued, "we're talking about ancestry. He was born in New Jersey."

"Poor chap," I said. "First that, then he gets to know you during that virginal stage you went through."

"I doubt it was worth waiting 17 years for, but I did give him an idea of what he had missed. As you've doubtless figured out by now. So he came up to the floor with me. Nobody I recognized was around, so I just unlocked my door, and in we marched, I guess back at the club I had decided I would have sex with him if he wanted. And of course he wanted.

"As I said, no swept-off-your-feet stuff this time. My decision to have sex with Justin was fairly cool and logical and rational. Well, not entirely, I guess. By then we were both quite horny too, and some alcohol was involved, including a nice scotch on the rocks shortly before we hit the bed.

"Speaking of rational, when Justin was retrieving the scotch from his room, he was also thoughtful enough to grab a few condoms. As I'm sure you discovered, I had brought my diaphragm with me, just to be prepared for all possible contingencies. Between that and the condom, I now had no worries about pregnancy and very few about STDs. That helped me relax a lot. Nor was I worried that my husband, who was then probably sleeping in Beth's arms, would throw a fit if and when he found out."

I protested for the record: "On Wednesday I was sleeping on my own arm." Once again Ann ignored me.

"So... you still want details, right?... after the scotch I stood and walked over to him. He stood. I unbuttoned his shirt, ran my hands over his chest, kissed him, stuck my tongue into his mouth. That felt quite wanton, and I really enjoyed the feeling. Then he gave me his tongue, and it felt delicious. Sort of, my body has just been penetrated by this beautiful, dark-skinned man, and soon he will penetrate me in other places too, and that is exactly what I want to happen.