** Introduction: I first met Sophia Delacruz shortly after her forty-first birthday. In truth, her name is not Sophia Delacruz, but it was important to her that I protect her identity in the telling of this story. She opened up to me at a turning point in her life. I still don't know why she picked me. Late one night, after our second round of love-making, she told me her tale. It might've been the potent sativa, causing her mind to fall back on old memories, truth upon truth spilling forth. It was a tale of love and awakening, of exploration and titillation. But it was also a story of recklessness, of wanton thrill-seeking and sexual brinkmanship. In her words I found the stroke of inspiration that had eluded me for months. I asked to tell her story, and she acquiesced, on the condition that I change the names and tweak certain details. I began to write. We would meet, make love, and then talk. I would ask her questions. Sometimes, I'd need to ask twice. No one would ever call her shy exactly, but I had to coax her into revealing darker emotional truths. It was only towards the end of our project that I began to glimpse her motivation. It was a gambit--an idiotic gesture to win him back.
This is a story told in seven parts, including prologue and epilogue. It might seem, at times, like a work of shameless smut. This is merely a reflection of my own failings as a writer. It begins ten years ago, when Sophia was thirty-one and Nate was thirty-two. First, a little background. Sophia was born in San Diego, California, the daughter of a Mexican-American father and a Polish-Catholic mother. She moved to the East coast for college and attended graduate school for journalism. But she never worked as a journalist. Rather, she developed a lucrative career in technology sales. At the age of thirty, she met Nate, a hotel manager. They had been dating for six months by the time this story begins. **
Brock and Sophia looked good together. She was small and voluptuous with dark hair and pale skin. She had wide hips, plump buttocks, and perky, tear-shaped breasts. He dwarfed her with his tall and muscular frame. He had broad shoulders, strong arms, and dirty blonde hair. She wore a tight, low-cut purple dress. They were standing close together, making playful eye contact and touching each other on the shoulder. He made her giggle. Even Nate had to admit that they looked great together. Nate was Sophia's boyfriend. While she was busy flirting with the most eligible bachelor at the party, he was busy playing beer pong. But he kept one eye on her the entire time.
Sophia had always loved attention, especially from strapping men. Young, old, black, white--it didn't matter too much as long as they were strong and confident. She'd had a voracious appetite since high school. She'd never been promiscuous, at least not compared to some of her friends in college. Rather, she'd always been blessed with lovers of profound stamina and insatiability. She liked to think that she knew how to pick them, at least until Nate came along. Nate was great. She loved Nate. But Nate couldn't keep up with her appetites, and he knew it. He was perfectly happy to have sex twice or even just once a week. He was good at it, sure. She had nothing to complain about when they did have sex. But over the last few months, she'd found herself masturbating more and more, fantasizing about strangers, coworkers, and ex-lovers.
Nate was sympathetic to her plight. They hadn't talked about it, at least not explicitly. She didn't know that he was open-minded about the possibility of her seeking some...extracurricular assistance. He loved her unquenchable lust, even if he knew that he wasn't single-handedly up to the task. The thought made him jealous, but it was also quite thrilling. Why shouldn't such an exquisite creature have a sex life outside of the one they'd built together?
Sophia felt flushed. She was on her fourth vodka tonic, and she'd been talking to Brock for a while now. He either didn't know that she had a boyfriend, or he didn't care. He complimented her body and her hair and her outfit. He asked her about her job and her hometown in a jokey, lighthearted way. He was handsome and physically powerful. He aroused her. If she were single, she'd have gone home with him in a heartbeat. Hell, they might not have even made it home.
"Anyway," said Brock, "I should go find my boys, but let's talk more later. What's your number?" He took out his phone.
She gave him her number. Couldn't hurt to keep the option open, after all. He sent her a text message with his name and a winky face. "See you soon, okay?" he said.
"We'll see!"
"Don't be a stranger." He nodded and smiled before ducking out and weaving his way through the crowd. She sighed and took a swig of her drink. Nate sidled up to her.
"Hey honey," she said, trying to shake Brock from her brain. "You win?"
Nate gave her a quick peck on the lips. "No, no. Got kicked off the table. I think I was too distracted, what with you over here looking all sexy. Who's the guy?"
She blushed. "Oh, um, his name's Brock. I think he's Paul's cousin, or something like that."
"I think he liked you."
"I mean, who wouldn't?"
"He's a good-looking guy. Did you give him your real number?"
"I uh, I...did. I should have given him a fake, right? That didn't occur to me." Sophia couldn't read Nate's tone. His words were jealous and slightly accusatory...but his tone was gentle and curious.
"No, no, it's okay. That would've been rude. And...you like him, don't you?"
"Nate--"
"Come on, Sophia. I'm not stupid. I was watching you two, and it's alright. You're allowed to be attracted to someone else. Just be straight with me, okay? I'm not mad. Come on, let's go get some privacy." He gestured towards the stairs.
Sophia nodded and let Nate lead her upstairs to a small, deserted bedroom. He closed the door behind them and she wondered if he wanted to fuck. He turned to face her and she put her hands on her hips. "Alright babe, what's going on?" she asked.
"Do you want to fuck Brock? Just answer me straight."
She looked into his eyes and knew that she didn't need to lie. "Yes. I do. He's hot, he's confident. And my spidey-sense tells me that he's great in the sack."
Nate took a deep breath. "Okay, then. That's fine. That's great, actually. The thing is...I don't mind. I want you to be happy, satisfied, you know. I don't want you to hold yourself back."
"Oh baby, I am happy--"
"I know, I know, but that's okay. I'm just saying, don't hold back on my account. I...I think you should fuck him."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay. I won't put up a fight. I want to fuck him and I will. Thanks, baby." She crossed over to him and placed her lips on his for a long, wet kiss.
Nate pulled gently away and whispered in her ear, "If you want to invite him over tonight, I can get out of your way. Or you can go back to his place."
