Sauce for the Gander

SAUCE FOR THE GANDER

By

Blackheart93

This is another take on "My Wife Wants to Date Another Man". It is one of my favorite genres. No surprises: The good guy wins and the wife/bad guy lose. How that comes about is the thread of the story.

As always, I like dialogue, and I like conflict and emotion.

It is difficult to write about sex between a man and a woman and make it aesthetic rather than raunchy.

After getting excoriated on my last story for not using an editor, I used one this time. He has chosen to remain anonymous. Nevertheless, I would like to thank him for his assistance in making my story much better than what it was. Any mistakes made after the story was edited, are mine.

SAUCE FOR THE GANDER

Characters

Tyler (Ty) Winslow: Literature expert working for a large publishing company.

Brianna (Bree) Winslow: Ty's wife of 24 years and paralegal for a large law firm.

Emily Straton: Executive secretary to law partners Thomas, Dickson and Harris.

ONWARD...

"You WHAT?" I said to my wife.

Hindsight showed me that I should have been alerted that something was up weeks ago. For more than seven weeks now, my wife, Brianna, has been especially attentive to me. She has been making a really nice breakfast for me instead of just toast and coffee. She has been preparing my favorite meals for dinner--even including wine. After dinner she has been changing into new lingerie and then becoming very affectionate until dragging me off to bed at an early hour.

Did I have a second thought about these alterations to our 24-year marriage. Not one. I blissfully accepted these changes as part of our new normal since our last child had left home for college only a few months before.

I wanted to do more for Bree, too. I tried to be home every evening no later than 5pm. I started taking her out on dates to nice restaurants. I took her to several small theater shows in the local area. We went dancing for the first time in months. I brought her flowers.

I was all set to enjoy the benefits of being empty-nesters.

I'm Tyler Winslow. My nickname is Ty. My wife Brianna, Bree, and I have had a great marriage for almost a quarter of a century--or so I thought. Like all marriages, we have had our ups and downs, but the ups have far outweighed the downs. I was content with life.

I work at a large publishing company. Over the years, I have become proficient at all aspects of publishing: Editing and review of submissions, meeting with creators, negotiating terms, collaborating with design professionals, developing timelines, budgeting marketing costs, and working movie rights. I take great pride in bringing a new book and a new author to the public. Consequently, after twenty years of broad experience, I find myself as a senior director for the company.

My wife, Bree, is an extremely good-looking woman who is almost forty-five years old. Both of us have kept in good shape because of good genes, an active lifestyle and the right food. People often say we are a good-looking couple.

Since she started back to work after our youngest boy started kindergarten, Bree has worked as a paralegal for a large law firm, Thomas, Dickson & Harris. She has become the managing paralegal and assigns work that comes to her office to the subordinate paralegals.

My life took a right-angle turn on Wednesday of last week. I came home as usual about 5pm. Bree was busy in the kitchen with dinner. For the last several weeks, she has been preparing a dinner that has been above and beyond what we had before the kids moved out.

I kissed her on the back of her neck as I entered the kitchen. Lately, Bree would turn around and give me a full-body kiss at this point... but this time she didn't.

"I don't rate the mind-blowing kiss I've been getting for the last two months?" I exclaimed. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," she replied. "But I am happy to have my man home," she said instead.

She never turned away from her work on the countertop. It seemed a little cold as though she didn't want to face me for even the few seconds it took to turn and give me a kiss.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked. "You seem to be preoccupied."

"No, nothing, not a thing," she replied. "Change your clothes and when you come down, I'll have a glass of your favorite wine for you."

Now, it seemed, she was trying to rush me out of the kitchen rather than share a few moments of affection.

I shrugged off the feeling I had that something was off, and proceeded up the stairs to the bedroom. After hanging my suit up and tossing my dress shirt in the laundry basket, I changed into my comfortable Dockers and a pullover sport shirt.

Dinner wasn't lavish but, apparently, Bree had gone all out to make it especially enjoyable. She had been doing that for several months. Dinner was a chopped lettuce and tomato salad followed by the main course of roast port on a bed of riced cauliflower

When we toasted with the wine, Bree said, "You know I love you, don't you?"

It was different than, "I love you" followed by my obligatory, "I love you, too."

After dinner, we cleared the table. Bree put the unused food away and it was my job to rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. While I was doing that, Bree said that she was going upstairs to change into something more comfortable. I could hardly wait to see what it was.

When I left the kitchen and stepped into the family room, the lights were dim and Bree was stretched out seductively on the sofa. Her negligee barely covered up her vital regions while the low-cut neckline showed her C-cupped breast splendidly.

I didn't waste any time and kneeled down at the sofa to kiss her. It was an exotic kiss. From there, I kissed her bare shoulders and peeled what little material there was from breasts down to her navel. She had beautiful breasts. They were her best feature.

I was kissing, sucking and licking Bree's breasts while, at the same time, running my hand higher and higher along her bare leg. Bree's curvaceous legs were another of her best features.

"You love me don't you Ty? You'll always love me, won't you? No matter what?"

"Of course, I will," I replied. I stood up and undressed as quickly as I could and then I laid down on the sofa with her. I wasn't going to waste the time it would take me to carry her upstairs. The time for foreplay was over. I couldn't wait to fuck her and she couldn't wait any longer either.

A half an hour later, we cuddled up on the sofa. I commented that she had been especially ardent this evening and, in fact, her love making had been sensational for several weeks now.

"I'm happy we've regained some of the lust that we had lost over the years," I said while lightly kissing her neck and throat.

Our pillow talk drifted from how good-looking she was even though she was approaching her forty-fifth birthday to how toned her body was for her age. "You could easily be mistaken for thirty or thirty-five," I said.

Bree returned the compliment by rubbing her hand over my six pack and said that she was happy, too, that I take such good care of my body.

I was only half awake when Bree said, "Baby, I have to talk to you about something."

"Anything...," I lazily answered.

"First of all," she started, "you know how much I love you, don't you?

"Yes, and I love you just as much," I replied.

"Honey... She said so quietly that I could barely hear her. "This coming Friday, I made arrangements to go on an overnight date with a man from my office."

Her pronouncement took a few seconds to register in my brain. When it did, I propped myself up and look straight into her eyes and said, "You WHAT?"

She tried to pull my head back down to her chest where I had been resting, but I stiffened up. "You WHAT?" I repeated.

"It won't make a difference about how we feel about each other. I will still love you and you will still love me."

"Are you kidding me? Is this some sort of joke?" I asked her.

"No, Ty, this is not a joke. On Saturday I have a date with a man, a lawyer, from my office. We are going to go out for dinner and dancing, and then to his hotel room. I'm going to stay with him overnight. I'll be home sometime late in the morning on Sunday."

"In other words, you are going to fuck some asshole all night Saturday and Sunday morning. Is that right?"

"Please don't use those terms. They are so crude. He's a very nice man. I like him very much."

I was wide awake now and alert to what was being said. I started putting on my clothes to indicate that our intimate time together was over. It was obvious to Bree that I was not happy.

"Please, Ty, don't be like that. I still love only you and you still love me. It will be just this one time and then it will be over. In a week we'll be just like we are now and you'll have forgotten all about it.

"I don't think so, Bree," I snorted.

"Who is this Prince Charming, Bree? Why now, when things are going so good for us, do you want to completely ruin our marriage?"

Bree, who was now putting on her satin robe, said, "I don't want to give you his name because it is not important for you to know, and I don't want you to attempt any retribution against him. Besides, he's bigger than you and he would probably hurt you in a fight."

"Not with rage on my side--and a baseball bat in my hands," I countered.

"And," continued Bree, "it will be only this one time because he's leaving Sunday night for his regular job in New York and he won't be back."

"He'd better get out of town," I told her. Otherwise, the next time he enters a courtroom, it will be on crutches."

Beside my first reaction to Bree's pronouncement, which was anger, I was now starting to feel a sense of loss. Bree and I had been together for more than twenty years. She'd been my only lover since we took each other's cherries in our senior year in high school. I have been tempted but I have never touched another woman in a sexual way.

"So, how long has this affair been going on?" I asked.

"It isn't an affair. We've hardly touched each other."

"What is, 'hardly touched each other'?" I wanted to know. Do you mean holding hands, hugging, kissing? Does it include petting?

Bree did not answer my questions which made me believe it was up to the petting stage. Otherwise, she would have admitted to the lesser types of affection.

"He was loaned to us about six months ago from a prestigious law firm in New York to work on a particularly complex tax case. Because it was so complex, me and several of the other paralegals have been doing a lot of his research. Also, I have worked closely with him in designing the charts and graphs we are going to use in court.

"Over time, we have become very close. Two months ago, he told me that he had strong feelings for me and wanted to sleep with me. I had no intention of sneaking off to some cheap motel for sex, or staying late at work to be taken on a desk somewhere in the office. Our relationship was special and too genuine for that type of cheap relationship. We wanted a special night that was just for us.

"He asked me if I could come up with a pretense to get away for a weekend or even overnight sometime. I told him that I doubted I could come up with an excuse to cover that much time. Besides, I said, I really don't want to lie to my husband.

"He asked me if my husband would be agreeable--or could be made agreeable--to us being together for a day, a night or a weekend.

"I told him that I knew you were deeply in love with me, but I didn't know whether or not you would divorce me over a one-night stand. I didn't think so--especially if you knew that it was just a one-time interlude and it would never happen again... but I couldn't be certain."

"Why do you want to do this to us, Bree? We have everything we could possibly have in a marriage. We love each other. We have fabulous sex. We have great kids. There are no money problems. Our health is good. Why?"

"My 'friend' has convinced me that I am missing something. You are the only man I have ever been with. I feel I need to experience more. He has shown me there is more with him. It will complete me as a woman. Also, he cares for me and I have feelings for him, too. It is not a tawdry affair."

"But Bree," I exclaimed. We have had such a wonderful union. You are the only woman I've ever had and I'm the only man you've ever had."

"You don't understand, Ty, I need this. I want this. I want him"

"Why in the world do you need this," I asked

"He is a beautifully handsome man who is much younger than me but, nevertheless, finds me irresistible. I am drawn to him like a moth to the flame. I just have to have him, at least once, or I will never be content again. He said he feels the same.

"Please, Baby, let me do this. Then I will be yours forever more."

"I will never consent to this," I retorted. "It will ruin us and destroy our marriage."

"No, it won't, Baby. Don't stop me from doing this, and I will be the most wonderful wife you could ever imagine. I will cook for you, take care of the house, do the laundry, shop for groceries and everything else. And I will be the best sex partner you could ever imagine. You will be able to do anything you want to me anytime you want it. I will treat you like a king for the rest of your life. And, I'll never touch another man again ever. I promise."

"Except, I will have a wife who fucked another man and made a cuckhold out of me," I replied. "For a man, it is the ultimate expression of disrespect."

"You will have to get over it. I'm going to do this, Ty. I need to have this experience with my... friend. It will change nothing between us. I will still love you and you will still love me."

"So, this is why you've been so attentive and affectionate toward me for the last two months. It has nothing to do with being empty nesters. You thought that if you wined and dined me, I would be less inclined to lose you over a one-night stand and more inclined to acquiesce to your date.

"That's not going to happen, Bree."

Bree steeled herself against all of my arguments and protests. Her mind was made up and she wasn't going to change it. I wasn't going to beg. She would just have to suffer the consequences, whatever they turned out to be. I didn't know yet.

I went up to the master bedroom and gathered up some clothes for the next day and some toiletries, and went to the guest room that, in our large home, had its own bathroom.

Bree intercepted me as I was moving my stuff. "Please don't be like this, Ty. Nothing is going to change. I know you are a little angry right now but it will all be over by Sunday afternoon, and we can be ourselves again."

"I'm more than 'a little angry'. If you do this," I said in a very calm but deliberate way, "we will never be ourselves again."

I closed the door to the guest bedroom in her face without saying another word. I was alone with my thoughts.

I considered all the standard obvious alternatives: Divorce, moving out, throwing Bree out (which appealed to me more), physically preventing her from going on her date, calling her parents, calling our kids, and more.

There was no way I would divorce her. Regardless of her temporary insanity, I still loved the shit out of her.

I rejected the rest of my obvious choices. I was not going to move out of my own house. Also, regardless of what went down, Bree was going to be trying her best to make it up to me so, physically, I would have a maid and a sex slave for the rest of my life.

I had no intention of calling the family and outing her because I wanted to keep this dispute just between us. She might decide to call off her tryst if her family talked her out of it, but that meant it would be due to outside influences. Besides, that just might make her want to be secretive about a future date. If she decided against fucking Prince Charming, she would have to decide that for herself based on the merits of our marriage.

It was Thursday night. Without a doubt, Bree had waited until almost the last moment to announce her date. It limited the time that she would have to deal with an angry husband and reduced the time I had to convince her what a bad idea her date was. The lack of time also limited my possibilities to obviate her date.

My mind wasn't functioning as a machine. I was scared that I was losing my wife. She said that she had feelings for this guy. Perhaps, now that the kids had left home, she might be considering leaving me for him. That would completely break my heart.

After she had sex with him, she might prefer that to our lovemaking. Or, she might become interested in strange sex with more men in the future. Bree and I have been having sex for twenty-five years and there weren't many surprises in bed anymore. Nevertheless, I regarded our intimacy as comfortable and enjoyable. Even after twenty-five years, her body still turned me on. I would get excited just thinking about her in a sexy negligee or a tight, figure-hugging little black dress or just a towel.

And I know I always got her off when we made love. That was always a source of pride for me. I loved to feel her body stiffen as her climax hit her. I loved to look into her eyes as her orgasm rolled through her body.

Then, I thought, maybe I can throw a monkey wrench into her plans. Perhaps, somehow, I could preclude her date from ever taking place. Prince Charming would be gone before a backup rendezvous date could be arranged, and I would have time with my wife to set her straight on what she was risking--and extract some sort of benign vengeance to prevent her from ever considering anything like this again.

Before I drifted off late Thursday night, I came up with a plan. Apparently, I couldn't dissuade Bree from having an affair with Prince Charming, but maybe her employer could. I know that Thomas, Dickson & Harris had an employee non-fraternization policy. If Bree's relationship was mentioned to one of the senior partners, perhaps they would talk with Bree and discuss how her job might be affected by having a relationship with an associate.

I was up first the next morning. Although I normally made coffee for Bree before I left for work, I didn't this time. She said good morning but I didn't acknowledge her greeting. "Don't do this," was all I said and I left the house soon after without the usual kiss goodbye. I'm certain she noted the coldness of my actions.

My plan, if you could call it that, was to talk briefly with the managing partner, William Thomas. I had met him a number of times over the years at various social functions of his law firm. He seemed like a good guy; easy to talk to and down to earth. As personal as it was, I wanted to let him know what was happening between me and Bree--and the unnamed New Yorker in his office. Perhaps he could talk to her about the consequences of her date the next night.

I wasn't a lawyer, but I thought that Thomas, Dickson & Harris would not want to open their firm up to a possible sexual harassment suit by my wife if she were to get pissed off at the company for any reason.

In mid-morning on Friday, I drove downtown to the office building of Thomas, Dickson & Harris. I took the elevator to the top floor, where the three partners had their offices and large meeting rooms for their most important clients.

The outer office was a large, open area with a single desk in the middle of it. To the right was a lounge or waiting area with plush, overstuffed chairs, a sofa and a coffee table. To the right, was a full bar set inside flush-mounted cabinets. Modern, tasteful (and expensive) paintings decorated the walls. I had been in this area a number of times for small social events with Bree.