24

This is the final piece of Danny and Joy's story. When I first wrote about them over ten years ago grief was paramount. These stories have moved them down the years and opened up in them something I never expected. Chapter 21, per a reader's request, we get Danny's point of view as he tries to learn what it is about sharing his wife that is such a turn-on, but the closer he gets to that truth, the more shameful its provenance.

Chapter 20

The conference was in Denver. Joy had taken an early flight, and already was crisply tailored for the convention floor. Like all of her suits the skirt of this one was hemmed four inches above the knee, shorter than one might expect from a fifty-five-year-old woman, highlighting her well-muscled and smooth-skinned legs. Danny had always loved her fashion sense and, as she now knew, didn't mind other men seeing her, too. Joy found it funny to watch their eyes get drawn to her legs and then do a double take when they found the age spots on her arms, the wrinkles on her neck and face, and the unabashedly silver hair cascading halfway down her back. Today she wore it in a single precision braid.

Standing in the taxi line, the conference brochure in her hand, a man approached her. His suit was rumpled, as if he had slept in it; he sported a two-day stubble, and one corner of his rollerboard was closed with duct tape.

"Are you heading to the conference? May I share a cab with you?"

He had a British accent. "Okay," she said. It would be nice to have some company for the long drive from Stapleton to the convention hotel in Aurora. She slid to the left and he joined her in line. "Where are you coming from?"

"London," he said. "I apologize for my dishevelment; It's been a painful trip. As my suitcase can attest." The tape was coming off the corner.

"That's a long trip for a small meeting like this."

"True that. We're exhibitors; I drew the short straw. Although sharing a cab with a lovely woman is a surprise benefit."

Joy let that pass. "There is a shopping mall across the street from the hotel where you should be able to find a suitcase."

"Thank you, madame." He evidently had noticed her rings. "Colin Stewart," he said, extending his hand.

"Joy Rosenberg." They shook. His grip was firm but not hard, and he let his fingers slide down the length of her hand when he released it. Joy's sleazoid alert was triggered, but for the moment remained in the green.

Could be just a cultural thing.

They hit the head of the line. The driver put their bags in the back. Colin held the door for her and she got in, pulling her skirt down and crossing her hands on her knees so her wedding and engagement rings were fully visible.

The last thing I need,

she thought,

is some guy hitting on me for the next two days.

He closed the door and walked around the taxi, entering from the street side. Joy gave the driver the destination.

Colin kept his eyes on her face. She used her hands when she talked, and as told him her story the skirt slid halfway up her thigh; when he noticed she pulled herself a little straighter to warn him to back off. She told him her son was graduating from college in a few months and was taking time off before graduate school. She told him that her father had recently died, and that she missed him but he had lived a truly remarkable life. When he asked if she had any other children she said, as she always did, that they had lost their oldest child at age ten, fifteen years before; he made the appropriate apologetic comments and then nothing more was said. It finally didn't seem disloyal to leave Jenny out of the story.

Colin's divorce was nearly twenty-five years old. "I do enjoy the company of women," he said, "and have met several with no interest in either marriage or faithfulness."

"A woman in every town, eh?"

"So to speak," Colin said.

"No kids?"

"I have four siblings who have eleven between them. The oldest is 25." Jenny's putative age. "They like coming to visit their bachelor uncle in London. I've hosted more than one of them while they attended one summer program or another; I have a sixteen-year-old niece there right now."

"Painting the town red while uncle's away, eh?"

"Not bloody likely with that one. She's spending all of her time in the basement of the British Museum cataloging ancient artworks."

"You sound disappointed."

"I would like to see her enjoy London more. I certainly made different choices when I was that age. I am--what do you Americans call it--the party animal in this family."

"It's unusual," she said, "to encounter a single man who enjoys women his own age."

"Or even somewhat older," he said, pointedly dropping his gaze to her exposed thigh. He wasn't creepy about it, sort of forthright, and she didn't judge the brief rush she felt.

They arrived. They split the fare. "Can I see more of you later?" he said.

Her skin flushed.

Stop it,

she thought.

That's definitely an English turn of phrase.

"I'll visit your booth," she said, "after the exhibit hall opens."

Joy registered and took her bag upstairs. She called Danny to check in, and went off to her first seminar. Later, she found Colin. He was clean shaven, with his hair slicked back, wearing a precisely tailored and perfectly pressed gray pinstripe suit that was neatly accented by his blue shirt and white, gray and blue tie. She came up just as he was finishing with a customer.

"You clean up nicely," she said.

"I pale next to you, madame."

Joy laughed, but it's always nice to be appreciated.

"If you don't have a seat for the gala tonight," he asked, "may I invite you to sit at my table? My other guests are important clients but rather boorish. I'd be quite grateful for your far more sophisticated company."

"Ummm..." Joy thought about Benny. She thought about Dave Jason. She thought about Tal, and Lea, and what Danny had wanted, and felt a vibrant warming in her soft female parts. She tried to put it out of her mind. "I will, thanks. Dinner only, though."

Colin raised his hands to her, palms out. "Certainly, Mrs. Rosenberg. Table number twelve."

Joy walked away liking him and found herself wondering what it would be like to sleep with a strange man at a convention.

Danny would love it and hate it,

she thought.

No. First he would hate it then it then he would accept it but he only loves it when he's there too.

She remembered some past emotional pinballs.

I don't need the aggravation.

Nonetheless, that afternoon the hotel gym was baking in the sun; peeling down to her shimmel and briefs showed a lot of sweat-covered skin and she took in all the looks that were hers to take. After her shower, she inventoried herself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. The wrinkles at her eyes and neck and elbows, the stretch marks at her hips and above her saggy but passable breasts, the small bags under her eyes; skin thinning at her neck and chest; the outline of her muscular quads and calves, the slight ripple of abs across the soft rounding of her stomach, the visible biceps when she flexed her arms.

Good enough,

she thought.

Good enough for Colin Stewart's dinner companion.

Joy's black silk dress was sleeveless, with a modest neckline and hemmed above the knee like all of her dresses. It showed her curves without clinging. It held memories, that dress: Jake's graduation. Her father's funeral. Amanda's wedding. Achingly romantic birthday dinners with Danny. She called him.

"Hi, lover," he said. "What's up?"

"Not too much. I'm getting dressed for the gala."

"What are you wearing?"

"The black silk dress."

"I love that dress. Especially with you bare underneath it."

"I know. Not the thing for tonight, though."

"Why not?"

"Seriously? You're not here."

"I'm not. But if you do that it will be like I was."

"I'm sitting at a table with a bunch of strangers."

"That's fine. You'll be talking shop. No one would even wonder. Anyway, it's totally opaque. Put it on and Facetime me."

She did. She stood in front of the mirror with her phone.

"Can't tell at all," Danny said, "no one will know. Except me."

He wants me to. "Okay," she said. "For you. I'm still in Denver, though. Don't spend too much time jerking off."

He laughed. "That's exactly what I'll be doing!"

The tablemates were three fat men from Dallas who sold Colin's company's printing equipment, accompanied by three young women who almost certainly were prostitutes. The guys kept talking about golf and football and as they got more loaded kept making loaded remarks about what was going to be happening with the girls later.

"Not," Colin said, "If you get too drunk."

"I'm never too drunk for that," one of them said.

"Oh Jerry," one of the girls said in a cute Texas twang, "last time you were here you practically fell asleep in the elevator."

The other men laughed. "That's okay hon," one of them said. "I'll take care of you after he falls asleep."

The conversation went on like that, the guys casually insulting each other while objectifying the girls and assuming they would be fine with whatever happened. Joy leaned over to the girl sitting next to her. "Are you girls going to be all right?"

"These guys? No problem," she said. "A lot of talk, not much action. But your fellow seems like he's all action." She nudged Joy with an elbow.

Joy wasn't sure if she was being taken for a paid companion, a girlfriend or wife, or a one-night pickup. "Oh, she said, "I'm just a colleague," and thought that was the end of it except that Colin chose that moment to lean over to her and whisper, "It seems to me that you might be naked under that dress."

"Well we all are, aren't we?" she said, somewhat truculently but to her own ear rather unconvincingly. She hoped he would connect the flush she felt coloring her face to the wine instead of the truth.

After dinner they took the elevator. Their rooms were on the same floor; at his door he said, "Come in, Joy, for a nightcap."

"Okay," she said. "Just for a minute." But the brandy was good and her cheeks were warm and it had felt nice to take his arm and walk down the hallway, and when they were sitting on the couch he leaned over to kiss her cheek she turned her head and he found her lips instead. His were soft and warm and his hands light traced up and down her back.

"I didn't have to imagine it," he said. "You aren't wearing anything under this dress."

"Danny asked me," she started to say, but her words got smothered by more kisses and when his hand guided hers down below his waist there were no clothes in the way.

When did he do that? I need to stop this right now,

she thought, but his cock felt good in her hand and her whole body was warm and tingly and her pussy was wet and yearning and the moment so much more appealing than her empty bed down the hall. He lowered her zipper; his hands were warm on her back. Her nipples stiffened as the silk rubbed them and Colin's hand dove deeply into the opened dress and cupped her ass and Danny did like seeing her with someone else. He's not seeing you now, came from somewhere deep in her mind but then Colin was excellently between her legs and she pulled her own dress off a little before she flooded his face. He moved up, pressing her legs apart with his elbows and when he slid inside her body responded and his cock was fine and she was lubricating and stretched her arms and lifted her legs and rotated her hips so he could get maximum penetration. She nurtured her budding orgasm but when she opened her eyes and saw him suspended in Danny's place above her, the world changed. His eyes were closed and his face contorted and his breath sounded like a semi-truck trying to make it over Donner Pass.

Whatever he was thinking about she knew it wasn't her and there was this sudden part of her that couldn't stand the sight of him. But sex was still sex, good in its own way, and the die was cast, so she put herself in the middle of that and rolled over so she could look at the pillow and shove her ass up against him and when he was back inside her pussy she squeezed and moaned in the way that Danny liked and he increased his pace and came with what seemed to Joy to be an overly theatrical amalgam of thrusts, grunts and quivers.

As soon as she caught her breath, Joy pushed up and rolled him off of her. Without a word she got off the bed, picked her dress up off the floor and went to the bathroom. She washed and wiped and when she came out her dress was on.

"Going already?" he said.

"Yes. I enjoyed the evening, but this was a mistake."

"Not for me."

"I know that."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Not bloody likely," she said. He tipped his metaphorical hat at her.

"Have a safe trip home."

Leaving him in the bed she picked up her shoes and her shawl and her handbag and, barefoot, walked out of Colin's life and back into her own. That was useless, she thought. Now I have to tell Danny.

Chapter 21

It popped upon my phone; Joy, flat on her belly getting athletically fucked from the back by some hairy middle-aged dude. The email read, "Great conference. Your wife is a fascinating woman. It was a pleasure to seduce her. I hope you enjoy the attached." I couldn't imagine what process she could have followed that ended with her under some stranger in a place she clearly did not want to be.

This will be an interesting evening,

I thought.

* * *

When she came in the door I had dinner nearly ready.

"How was the conference?"

"Worthwhile. Saw a few good presentations."

"How was that reception?"

She sat at the table of a British guy she shared a cab with coming from the airport, she said, and the story was about the progressively more drunken behavior of her table-mates and the juvenile attitude toward their hired girls. "Sounds like fun," I said. "Did you enjoy being naked?"

"I was wearing the dress, Danny. But I bet you enjoyed it."

"Indeed."

By the time we finished dinner she began to get romantic and I began to get mad. "I just need to show you something, Joy, before we go upstairs." I took her into the den, turned on Apple TV and Airplay, and found the file on my phone. "Ready," I said, and sat opposite her. "Perhaps you can help me understand this."

I touched the triangle. The video came on our 65" screen. I watched her take a few seconds to put together what she was looking at; her face transformed from outrage through recognition to incredulity.

"Wow," she said, "caught red-handed. I was going to tell you in bed. He sent you that." I nodded. "Creepy. Turn it off?"

"Why? It was good enough to do but not to watch?"

"It wasn't good, ultimately," she said, "but I did it. I fucked that man." Her onscreen face radiated stoicism. "Look at me. I'm wondering why I was there."

"I wonder that, too," I said. "Maybe you should tell me."

She held my eye, despite her embarrassment. "I don't know. I just... ended up there."

"That's not the right answer," I said.

"I had a couple of drinks, I was enjoying myself, the other guys were so dumb, we were both kind of touchy, our rooms were on the same floor, he invited me in... It felt good until it didn't." I kept quiet. "He lowered my zipper and in that moment his cock felt good in my hand. I guess I thought you'd forgive it; we have been pushing these boundaries recently. In a way, I was naked because of you."

"It would have made a difference if you were wearing underwear?"

"Two more chances to stop. Probably not, though, truthfully. I didn't suck him."

"That's supposed to make it better?"

"No, Danny. But I'll suck you, though. Right now." She peeled off her shirt and unhooked her bra. Hard nipples were staring at me. My hands twitched, remembering what it was like to touch them. I let history speak.

"No. No sex when I'm mad, ever again." Four years after Jenny died there was a really, really bad night. It almost destroyed our marriage.

"That's fair," said my half-naked wife of thirty-six years, "and thoughtful. How about this. You don't be angry and I'll be your wife on demand for the next couple days."

"I accept," I said. "Not tonight, all the same."

"You sure? It'll be worth your while." She touched herself in the places I like her to.

"That's a very attractive offer," I said. "Starting tomorrow."

"Whatever, Danny. Tomorrow."

Her footsteps echoing on the stairs sounded as hollow as my studied self-righteousness. Handcuffed by my pride. So instead of going upstairs and getting some I sat on the couch, cock in hand, imagining her being serially fucked by every man I know. When I got to our bed, she was sound asleep, and when I woke up she had already made coffee and was out on her bike. She came back around 8 and came into the kitchen.

"Good morning." She was wearing her shortest cycling shorts.

"Kinda cold for those shorts," I observed.

"These are for you. I wore leggings."

"Coffee?" I refilled the cup that she had left on the counter.

"Sure. This first." She peeled off her top and bra and folded the top of her cycling shorts down low on her hips, tight to the bikini line.

"Should I stop here?"

"Not on my account," I said. "You still turn me on. But..."

"Danny, please. He was a narcissistic dickwad," Joy said with a sigh, "and I was a self-absorbed princess. It was careless, I violated your trust, and I didn't even get off."

"Serves you right," I said.

"Please stop this. I thought we had a deal."

I was flooded with our history. "We do. I should be okay by tonight. You gonna wear that to work?"

"Of course not."

"Wear that blue sundress," I said. It was slinky and short.

"I don't like to wear underwear with that one."

"I know. Just don't fuck anybody this time."

The look she gave me would have stopped a train in its tracks. "Maybe I'll fuck everybody. I bet you'd like that, Daaaannnnyy," trying to curdle my ear. She turned on her heel, took her coffee and clothes and stomped up the stairs. When she came down went right out the front door without saying a word. I spent part of my workday rehearsing various ways to try and heal the breach while still getting laid. Fortunately, Joy saved me from further embarrassing myself when she swooped in the door in the sundress, bare shouldered, tits swinging free, and announced, "I'm going to suck your cock now and you are going to cum in my mouth. Sit down. And don't say a word."

"Yes, ma'am." I sat. she knelt, unzipping and sliding my pants off, rubbing my hardening cock through my underwear before removing them, too. Lifting up on her knees she pushed her chest forward, rubbing her body up and down my erection. I flipped on the Warriors game.

"Really?"

I said. "3rd quarter. Maybe Klay will score 40. I'll last longer."

"We'll see about that," she said. "At least keep the sound off."

"You wore the dress." She had been a thin layer of fabric away from public display all day! "Who saw you?"

She smiled, playing the coquette. "I had them all lined up for a peek." My dick got stiffer. "Actually, Danny, no one saw a thing. I wore it with leggings and a sweater. But I'll make up for it now."

"Take it off," I said, and there she was, naked on her knees, sucking and slurping and rubbing with enthusiasm, left hand circling her clit, and on top of that the Dubs were having one of their perfect third quarters. I held out as long as I could, but she was active and determined. It was immensely satisfying to cum into her mouth just as the lead hit 25.

She climbed from her knees into my lap. "So how much more cum do I have to swallow to be forgiven?"

"None, Joy. I already forgave you, but I'm still hurt."

"I know. When we started this poly stuff I promised you you'd always know, but I broke that promise, and I'm so sorry I did. I just got lost: being away, drinking, getting caught up in an idea of something. I might be fifty-five, but I still can screw it up. That night I screwed it up."