Wife and Ex-Wife

To everyone's surprise, Larry fit seamlessly into the unorthodox household. After his initial discomfiture, he seemed to enjoy the idea of using his old house as a kind of private sanitarium to recover from his injuries and regain his strength. And what man would object to two lovely women tending to his every need? He became more adept at handling his crutches, although he was counting the days when those pestiferous casts on his legs would be removed.

He was particularly pleased with how Patrick took him under his wing. Clearly sensing no threat from Nina's ex-husband, he regarded Larry as something like an old college roommate who had come for a lengthy stay. Larry had several years on Patrick, but his apparent innocence of the world made him seem a bit younger.

There was a time when the women were out running errands, and the two men were sitting on the couch, doing nothing in particular. Larry felt the need to get to know his host a bit better, especially given how tight-lipped he generally was. So he began by saying:

"Nina's really lucky to have found you."

Patrick shook his head at that. "That's not how I look at it.

I'm

the lucky one. She's an amazing woman."

"Yes, she is." The unspoken thought was there for both men to grasp:

And she's not mine anymore.

"I was so stupid to let her go—stupid and contemptible."

"Hey, guy, we all make mistakes."

"Yeah, but this was a doozy of a mistake! God, I don't know what possessed me to do it. I guess it's the old adage: 'Don't let the little head rule the big head.'"

Patrick smiled at that. "I've gotten into a bit of trouble along those lines too."

"It wasn't that she wasn't a good wife. We really had a pretty good marriage—but I threw it all away thinking I'd get something better with that young tramp who seduced me."

"Well, I sort of let Amelia slip through my fingers."

"Maybe I thought Nina a bit, um, conservative—you know, in bed." Larry turned bright red when he said that.

Patrick smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "She ain't conservative now."

Larry gazed at him, also smiling. "Your doing, no doubt?"

"Maybe. I think women actually loosen up in that way as they age."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. She deserves all the, um, happiness she can get."

"I'm sure you gave her a lot of happiness."

"I suppose. But how could I have hurt someone I loved the way I did? I just cast her aside like an old shoe." Larry covered his face with his hands.

Patrick placed a hand on Larry's shoulder. "Hey, guy, don't torment yourself about that. It's over and done with."

"She certainly seems to have landed on her feet—thanks to you."

"Thanks to herself. Maybe I helped, but she's a strong woman."

"What about Amelia?" Larry said.

Patrick was taken aback by the sudden change of topic. "What about her?"

"She seems pretty well ensconced here."

"Yes, she does." Patrick was furiously debating how much to tell his guest—or whether he should tell him anything at all. "I couldn't let her fend for herself. I don't think Amelia's as strong as Nina, emotionally speaking."

"She seems pretty happy now."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Um, I don't want to pry—but it doesn't bother her that you're married to someone else?"

"Oh, I suppose it bothered her when she first came here; but she's really gotten to like Nina. They've bonded."

"They have?" Larry said, surprised.

"Yeah."

"That's—pretty unusual, isn't it?"

"I guess. But it's happened, just the same."

"One big happy family, it seems."

"Yeah—and now you too."

"Oh, I'm not going to be here very long. I really don't want to be in your way."

"You're not in anyone's way. I think it's pretty obvious the girls—er, sorry, women—like fussing over you. Maybe it's because they don't have children."

"I really don't like to be fussed over."

"Neither do I."

"But I guess I don't have much of a choice at the moment."

"Hey, enjoy it while you can."

They fell silent, but in a companionable way.

There was, of course, one awkwardness in the whole situation, as Amelia brought up to Nina on the very evening of Larry's arrival. Pulling her aside so that the men couldn't hear, she said:

"So, um, what exactly are the sleeping arrangements?"

Nina frowned in deliberation. "Well, that's going to be pretty tough. There's no way we can blab to Larry what really goes on here—he'll think he's wandered into a swingers' convention. I guess we'll all have to be in the big bed."

"All three of us?" Amelia said incredulously.

"It's big enough to fit, don't you think? I mean, it

is

a king-size bed."

"I'm not talking about the size of the bed. I'm talking about—well, you know."

Nina colored. "Yes, I thought that's what you were talking about."

"You're not going to say we're going to be celibate for all the days or even weeks that Larry's going to be here?"

"No, of course not."

"And you can't expect us to have threesomes every time one of us wants some—amusement."

"No, that would be difficult. Maybe we need to get an air mattress and put it in Patrick's studio."

"God, I hate those things!"

"I'm not so keen on them, either—but what other option is there? One of us will have to be there while the other is with Patrick."

Amelia sighed. "Well, I guess that will have to do. Not the ideal situation, though."

"You really don't want Larry here, do you, Amelia?"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" Amelia protested. "In fact, I think he's kind of cute."

"You do?" Nina said wonderingly.

"Sure. He has a little-boy quality that I've always liked in a man—as long as he's not

actually

a little boy in his emotions or his behavior."

"He certainly didn't behave like a little boy when he ran off with that—"

"Okay, Nina, no need to go into that. I know that still bothers you."

"Actually it doesn't. But I never really thought of Larry as a little boy."

"He seems a bit . . . unworldly. Especially for a lawyer."

"Yes, I guess he is that. He hasn't really been around all that much. Grew up in a small town in Illinois."

"That's rather charming."

"I suppose."

"What do you really feel about him?"

Nina sighed at the question. "Oh, I don't know, Amelia. I don't hate him anymore, if that's what you're asking. I might if Patrick hadn't come along. But now that I have him, I can put aside whatever anger I had over what Larry did. It's his loss, isn't it?"

"It sure is!"

"Anyway, I don't want to talk about that." Clearly the subject was still pretty painful for Nina.

"I can take over all the massaging if it bothers you to be with him."

"It doesn't. I mean, I wouldn't have invited him to stay here for weeks and weeks if it did."

"Well, that's good."

"So you think he's kind of cute, do you?" Nina said, poking Amelia in the arm.

"Hey, don't tease me! He

is

cute. I think so, anyway."

"Well, you're welcome to him." And she walked away with her head held high.

*

The matter of the sleeping arrangements for the permanent occupants of the house became acute fairly quickly. It was one thing to try to fit three people in even a king-size bed for the purpose of actual sleep; it was an altogether different thing when something other than sleeping was on the agenda. One night, when it should have been Amelia's turn to cuddle with Patrick, she insisted on him doing quite a bit more than cuddling, coming to bed naked and whipping off his underwear as he lay supine on the bed. Meanwhile, Nina had situated herself at the very edge of the bed, her back turned to the other two in an aggressive attempt to ignore them. Amelia, still standing on the other side of the bed, where Patrick was lying, gave Nina's back a blank look and proceeded to give Patrick oral stimulation. He hadn't had anything of the sort for some time, and he groaned loudly. If there were any doubts that Nina was still awake, they were put to rest when she hissed, "Be quiet, you two! Larry might hear."

Patrick did his best to comply. By this time Amelia had squatted over Patrick's groin and placed him inside herself, riding him lustily. He seized her large breasts with eager hands while she bounced up and down on his cock, causing the bed to squeak and Nina to let out a ferocious

"Shhhh!"

When Patrick shot his seed into Amelia, she emitted a high-pitched squeal that was immediately suppressed by a hand clapped over her mouth. She had come too, and was reluctant to get off Patrick until the full force of her own orgasm had subsided.

She did roll off of him, flopping between him and Nina. Patrick's wife had been breathing more and more irregularly and forcefully during this whole process, and when it was over she tossed off her own nightgown and, looking over the recumbent Amelia, said to Patrick, "You're going to have to do me too."

"Yes, ma'am," Patrick said obligingly.

He clambered over Amelia, who helpfully moved over to the far end of the bed, and lay at full length next to Nina, stroking her face, breasts, bottom, and thighs with his hand, ending with his fingers tickling her sex in the usual manner. She was already quite wet, and it didn't take her long to achieve her own climax. But she wasn't ready to let Patrick off the hook. Saying in a sharp whisper, "You'd better go in me, guy," she parted her legs and gazed at him with a kind of furious impatience. He said again, "Yes, ma'am," and entered her. He wasn't entirely ready for another go, but didn't feel he had much choice in the matter. He pounded and pummeled his wife vigorously until at last his discharge filled her cleft.

Amelia had been taking in the sight with rapt attention, her hand buried in her own sex. She once again had to hold a hand over her mouth as she came a second time. This was the first time she had actually watched the two of them have sex, since in their threesomes she was always involved in the action. She decided that there was quite a bit to be said for being a voyeur.

But in the course of time Nina found this kind of intimacy unsatisfying. She decided that the air mattress lying in Patrick's study was the place for her when Amelia and Patrick were about to get it on. She wasn't terribly comfortable there, but it was better than being a passive spectator—or non-spectator—while the other two were doing their business.

She

didn't care to be a voyeur!

But Amelia hated that air mattress so much that, one night when Larry had been at the house for more than a week, she ambled downstairs in her nightgown and stood irresolutely at the door of what had once been her bedroom.

Finally she summoned up the nerve to knock on the door. "Larry, are you still awake?"

There was a long silence, then finally a reluctant "Yes" from the man inside.

She opened the door fractionally and saw Larry lying on his back—as, of course, he had to, given the heavy casts on his legs—on the bed, with the covers pulled up to his neck. He was accustomed to wearing pajama bottoms but not a pajama top, since he found that too heavy for restful sleep. He looked utterly spooked when he saw who was poking her head in the door.

"Um, may I help you?" he asked stiffly.

"I just wondered . . ." Amelia began, then boldly walked into the room. She was wearing one of her thin cotton nightgowns, since the day had been warm and it hadn't cooled down appreciably.

"Wondered what?" Larry said with increasing alarm.

"Larry, could I just sleep here?" she said in a rush.

'What?"

he cried.

"That air mattress is pretty uncomfortable, and I can't get good sleep on it. I just thought I could sleep on one side of this bed. I mean, it's a queen-size—big enough for two, I imagine. I won't be a bother—you'll never know I'm here."

Larry doubted that very much. But he managed to stutter: "I—I suppose."

Amelia felt that she had actually gotten to know Larry fairly well over the past week and half that he'd been here, but of course this was a level of intimacy that he clearly wasn't expecting.

As she lowered herself gingerly on the right side of the bed, Larry did his best to scoot over to the left. He was now almost at the very edge.

"Larry," she said, "you don't have to move that far over. I have plenty of room."

As a minimal gesture he moved fractionally back in the other direction. They were now both lying on their backs, seeming to find something fascinating in the bare white ceiling.

Amelia felt that some kind of conversation was necessary before they went to sleep; but, like everyone in the household, she was reluctant to venture onto subjects that might prove awkward or embarrassing. Nevertheless, she blurted out:

"You know, we're kind of alike."

Larry frowned. "Alike? How?"

"Well, I don't mean in terms of temperament or attitudes, although I think we share some of those. I meant that we're both, um, exes."

Larry flushed. "Oh—yeah. I guess we are."

"Not only that," Amelia went on recklessly, "but our exes have married each other! Isn't that weird?"

"Yeah, weird," Larry said in a tight voice.

"But it's nice that we can still be with them and—and enjoy their company." Maybe "enjoy" wasn't the best word to use in this context.

Larry didn't have anything to say to that. Amelia heard him swallow hard.

She figured that, having gone this far, she might has well go further. Turning onto her side and peering straight at Larry, she said:

"Does it upset you that Nina's married again?"

Larry turned his head toward her. "Why, no, of course not. I have no hold on her. Especially the way I—I treated her."

"Oh, she doesn't care about that anymore."

"I don't think that's something she'll ever forgive me for—for the simple reason that it's unforgivable." He seemed to enjoy wallowing in self-recrimination.

"Oh, Larry, don't be so hard on yourself. Nina wouldn't have invited you here if she didn't have feelings for you. She all but

demanded

that you come here to convalesce. That surely shows that she has

some

feelings for you."

"She's been wonderful to me," he said, getting choked up. "Better than I deserve."

"Larry," Amelia warned, "you stop denigrating yourself."

"I can't help it," he said miserably. And then he burst into tears.

Amelia hadn't faced this kind of reaction from him—or from any man—and was initially unsure how to react.

Oh, God, there's nothing worse than man-tears.

She became more flustered than most men do when faced with woman-tears. Without thinking, she squatted over Larry's chest and wrapped her arms around his head, causing his head to nestle between her breasts. She stroked his head and even kissed the top of it, cooing, "It's all right, dear, it's all right."

Larry, for his part, didn't seem to find Amelia's action unusual: he was so wrapped up in his own wretchedness that he merely clung to her as he poured out his tears onto her chest. Mercifully, his cries were muffled by her ample breasts, so that there wasn't much chance of anyone upstairs hearing. Then, seemingly without being aware of it, he brought up one hand seize one of those breasts—in a way that suggested a drowning man desperately clutching a piece of driftwood.

In fact, his grip became so tight that it was causing Amelia some pain. She endured it as long as she could, knowing it was an entirely unconscious reaction on the poor man's part. But at last she had to say:

"Larry . . . please . . . let go."

Only now did the unwitting liberty he was taking dawn upon him. He released the breast as if it were radioactive and said: "Omigod, Amelia! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it—"

"I know, dear," she said gently. "It's okay. Just take it easy."

She snatched up a Kleenex from the nightstand and—just as Nina had done in the hospital—wiped his tears away. She smiled at him like a mother offering reassurance to her little boy and got off of him.

"You just relax, dear," she said. "Don't worry so much. Everything will be fine."

Then, to his—and her—surprise, she gave him a long, deep kiss, holding his head firmly in her hands.

He gazed at her reverently, and she feared a renewed burst of tears. But he did relax, exhaling loudly and finally tearing his gaze away. "We—we'd better go to sleep," he murmured.

And they tried to do exactly that—but both of them had trouble doing so. When, at last, Amelia heard Larry's light snoring, she turned away from him, raised up the hem of her nightgown, and placed a hand between her legs. She hated doing this without letting out a cry or two, but there was no help for it in this case. After some minutes of surreptitious stroking she managed to satisfy herself with a few suppressed grunts—and only then was she able to fall asleep.

*

Amelia had to clamber over the sleeping Larry to leave the bed and get ready for work the next morning. She showered in the downstairs bathroom, then dashed upstairs to get dressed before coming back down to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. She found Nina sitting in the breakfast nook, nibbling a bagel.

"Had a good time with Larry?" Nina said acidly.

As Amelia was rushing to get her own breakfast ready, she didn't quite understand the import of the words. Only after several seconds did she say: "What? What are you talking about?"

"You weren't on the air mattress last night."

"I told you I don't like it."

"So you must moseyed on down and cuddled up with my ex." Nina had said those words with inexplicable venom.

"I just

slept

in the bed—that's all I did," Amelia protested.

Well, okay, there was a little more than that, but we didn't actually—you know . . .

"Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right. Anyway, why should you care? You're not married to him anymore."

Nina's features finally relaxed. "I know. I'm just teasing, I guess. But I didn't think you'd cuddle up with him."

"Nina, I didn't 'cuddle up' with him! Anyway, he's not in much shape to cuddle, if you know what I mean. The guy can hardly get off his back."

"Okay, okay, no need to get hot under the collar."'

"

You're

the one who's hot under the collar—and for no reason that I can understand! I mean, Jesus, the guy dumped you!"

"I know he did," Nina said softly.

"In fact," Amelia went on, "all he wanted to do was talk about

you

—and how sorry he was."

"I know he's sorry."

"He clearly has a lot of feelings for you."

"You don't need to tell me that."

"I think it's pretty tough for him to be here—seeing you and Patrick together. I'm beginning to wonder if it was such a good idea to bring him here."

"He had no place else to go!"

"I understand that—but still, it would probably be best for his sake if he were to leave as soon as possible."

Both women fell into a silence. In ways that neither of them understood, they were both thinking:

Gee, I wish he sticks around a little longer.

"Do you," Nina ventured, "think he knows . . .?"

"Knows what?"

"You know—about the three of us."

Amelia sighed. "He's not a dummy. I think he can see how . . . cozy we are with each other. I'm sure he'll never say anything, but he probably knows—or suspects."

"He'd totally freak out if he really knew."

"I think he has a lot of other things on his mind right now—like getting well."

"I guess so."

"So let's get him well and get him out of here."

But Amelia said it reluctantly, and Nina said nothing.

*

The day finally came when the casts on Larry's legs came off. After Nina brought him back home from the hospital, he found he could manipulate the crutches a lot better than at first: the women's diligent massaging of his arm muscles had paid off. The doctor said he would still have to use the crutches a little while longer, but soon he could probably get around with a cane, and after that he could walk normally again for the first time in many weeks.