You First

1.

"I need to get laid..."

"I can tell."

"That obvious?"

"I think everyone can tell. You're oozing the pheromones of desperation."

Tina lifted up her armpit and sniffed. "You're right!" She and Anne broke into laughter, pausing only to clink the edges of their wine glasses. The two were sitting on the deck behind Anne's house, taking in one of the last sunsets of summer. Anne's shorts showed off her legs, which were more tan on the front than the back from a season of sitting outside and reading every day after work. She wore no shoes—she refused to do so unless required for work or to go to the grocery store—never at home. She wore a loose t-shirt. Her legs, forearms, and whatever parts of her face not covered by her generous tortoiseshell sunglasses acted as her solar cell, charging her skin through the winter. Tina also wore sunglasses, black, a slightly more form-fitting t-shirt from a Siouxsie and the Banshees tour that she was too young to have ever seen in person, and a long black skirt.

"I need to get laid, too," Anne admitted suddenly, breaking their short silence.

"You have a husband. Get to it." Tina sipped her prosecco.

"Yeah."

"Something up?"

"I mean. It's not like it used to be."

"You've been married a while. Fifteen years now?"

"Yeah. I feel dumb complaining."

"You feel dumb complaining to the divorcée about being married?"

"Well, yeah." Tina held her glass to her lips, letting it linger there to prolong the moment, less savoring the awkwardness than not being sure how, or if, to move the conversation along.

Tina tossed her long, black hair, turning her pale face toward the sun and pursing her red-glossed lips. Since her divorce two years ago, her main hobby had become collecting different shades of lipstick. This one was called 'cherry juice'—her favorite this week. "How long?" She didn't need to elaborate—they'd known each other since middle school. She really didn't need to say anything at all—neither of them did.

"Three, maybe four months?" Anne let Tina draw the story out of her. She wasn't used to talking about this part of her marriage. In the early years, she had a habit of talking about the size of Tim's penis whenever she got drunk at a party. It was a fun brag. She hadn't bragged about it lately, though—she rarely saw his dick now. She desperately needed a reminder to return to her once-favorite topic of conversation.

"Well," Tina said after a moment. "I'd say that's a long time, but I haven't gotten laid since well before the divorce. I'm probably the worst person to judge whether that's the right frequency after fifteen years of marriage. I never made it that long, and here I am."

"Practically a virgin?"

Tina smiled. "Virgin divorcée."

"Is that your life's ambition?"

"No. I don't know. I hope not. It just felt like dating, sex, all that was leading to something in my life, and now that's over, and I don't feel like I have the energy or the will to go through all that again."

"But just the sex part?"

"Yes," Tina sipped for punctuation. "If I could just do the sex part, with no other expectations beyond that—I do believe I could summon the energy for a fuck."

"Oh, to be you."

"No? No energy for a fuck?"

"I don't know. I feel like sex used to be a priority, for both of us. Then we bought a house and then we had kids and then our jobs became more demanding. All these other things in life that suddenly had higher priority in our lives and before we knew it, at the end of the day, we weren't even thinking of sex. Pillow talk became about comparing schedules for the next day and things like moving money between accounts or taking a car in for repairs."

"That's sexy."

"Car repair?"

"Kidding. I mean, it could be. Is your mechanic hot?"

"I don't even know. Tim does that stuff."

"Tim and the mechanic, eh? He's having an affair?"

"Not even funny, Tina. Please don't bring up the 'a' word, even if it's with the mechanic."

"I'm just saying, that would be hot."

"You think Tim's hot?"

"I was imagining the hot mechanic. But Tim, yeah, he could be hot."

The sun was near the horizon now and Anne settled deeper into her chair, holding on to the last of its warmth. This was the favorite part of her day. Sunset, wine, sometimes a friend.

Tina broke the silence. "When I said Tim could be hot ..."

"No, I mean, that was fine. You're allowed to think that. I mean, hell, we could all use someone thinking we're hot. At our age ..."

"We're not dead yet!" Tina screeched in a British accent, borrowing a favorite line from

Monty Python and the Holy Grail

.

"Nope. Not dead, just dead-ish. Dead down below."

"You don't want to get laid?"

"I do, but I don't want it to be a thing that we schedule in between other appointments, and there's always so many appointments that I don't see it happening otherwise. And yeah, I mean, I don't feel the same urge that I used to, and I'm sure Tim doesn't feel that spark, either."

"Look, I'm divorced and I'm certainly not getting any. Less even than you. So I shouldn't be giving you any advice. But you have a man, and he has a dick, and you have to hold on to that shit, girlfriend."

Anne turned from the last sliver of orange sun and the pink clouds it lit from below, looking over at Tina who had already shed her sunglasses and was looking intently at her friend. "Yeah, but how?"

2.

"Tim, we need to talk." Anne laid next to her husband in bed. It was only nine o'clock and they were both exhausted.

"Yeah?" Tim didn't even turn to look at his wife. He was not up for a 'need to talk' tonight, not that he ever was. He just wanted to go to sleep and put another day to bed.

"We haven't had sex in four months."

"Not tonight. I'm tired."

"I wasn't talking about tonight—I'm talking about in general."

"Okay," Tim responded without any hint of interest in the topic, whether specific or general.

"We need to do something about it."

Tim sighed. Whenever Anne said 'we need to,' she meant 'you need to.' 'We need to mow the lawn before it rains.' 'We need to put the trash out.' Sex, though ... at least that was in a different category than mowing and taking out the trash. Tim sat up, turning his face towards his wife's. The room was dark, but some light emanated through the curtains, highlighting the freckles across Anne's nose. The light did not quite reach her blue-grey eyes—they were dark pools. He suddenly regretted the negative attitude.

They'd been married for fifteen years, so each of them had idiosyncrasies that bothered the other, but all in all, they each had it pretty good. Except for the lack of sex.

"Tim?"

"Yeah. I mean, I agree. I just don't know what to do about it."

"Do you want to have sex with me? I mean, not tonight, but in general?"

Tim thought about this, probably a little too long. They were fifteen years older now then the night of their wedding, and a few years more since they'd first slept together. Their bodies showed that age. He wasn't automatically excited by Anne's body anymore, and he was sure she felt the same about his. Once sex had stopped being a priority, so had taking care of their bodies, and how they looked to each other. Or maybe it was the other way around. But by now it was just a cycle.

"I like sex," Tim said after a moment. "I enjoy it. I mean, with you."

"Uh, okay. That sounds like you have sex with someone else, and you don't enjoy it with her. Or him."

"Yeah, I think you know what I mean. I'm tired."

"Have you thought about having sex with someone else?"

"I feel like you're setting a trap for me." Tim spoke warily. "Is this one of those conversations about celebrities we'd like to fuck, or are you trying to tell me that you want to have sex with someone else?"

"I'm just asking you if you ever think about sex with anyone other than me. I'm not accusing you of having an affair, or admitting to one myself." Anne paused, trying to cover all her caveats. "I haven't, by the way, just so we're clear."

"You want to know if I ever think about another woman sexually?"

"Yes," Anne said definitively. "That's exactly what I'm asking you." She used her right arm to prop up her head to watch her husband's expression as he prepared to answer the question. His head was backlit by the window, though, and his beard masked the lower half of his face. She tried piercing through the darkness to his gentle hazel eyes.

"Have you?" Tim answered finally, with a question to deflect her question.

"I asked you first. And I did ask you, so you can safely respond. It's okay if you have."

"Yessss ..." Tim drew out his response, waiting for the inevitable follow-up.

"Celebrity? Friend? Acquaintance?"

"Yes?"

"Yes, which?"

"Yes, all three?" Tim raised his eyebrows.

"Wow, busy boy." Anne smiled.

"Is that okay?"

"Yes, of course. I said it was okay. You're not dead—I would expect you to have thought about it. It doesn't offend me."

"It doesn't offend you because you think about other men?"

"Not only because of that, but yeah."

"Celebrity? Friend? Acquaintance?" Tim smiled, turning the tables.

"All of the above."

Anne and Tim lay in silence, still facing each other, and each relieved that they'd at least made a minor breakthrough in their communication, but also unsure where or how to use this revelation.

Anne finally spoke. "You know we have kids."

Tim laughed. "Yes, I'm aware. I was involved in the process as I recall."

"And we're not having anymore."

"I'm also aware of that. I was the only one of us there for my vasectomy."

"So sex for us is definitely no longer about procreation—I mean, we're done with that aspect."

"Yes. Same page here."

Anne finished her thought. "So what's left is recreation."

"Where are you going with this?"

"I'm saying that sex for us now, should just be about having fun, and it seems like it's not for us."

"You think our sex is bad?"

"No, that's not what I mean. Our sex is okay ... good. It's good. It's fun while we're doing it. But we don't approach it that way. We don't act like it's fun. We don't look forward to it like we used to." Anne considered turning on her bedside lamp so she could see Tim's face. She knew he had an advantage with the light from the windows on his side.

"I'll buy that." Tim decided not to elaborate about how their bodies weren't like they once were and how they each constantly saw each other naked in unflattering, unsexy ways—like changing or going to the bathroom—so it was hard for either of them to get excited just seeing the other naked. Sex took initiative to get past just the naked bodies part.

"So what could we do to make sex exciting again?"

Tim sighed quietly. This seemed like another 'we' trap.

"And I mean just sex in general, not necessarily with each other."

Tim's quiet sigh turned into an audible gasp. "Uh, I'm not sure I'm following."

"Forget about us for a second. Let's just talk about you. What would make sex exciting for you. Not with me necessarily. Just for you."

"Are you talking about masturbation?"

"No. I just mean if I weren't in the picture."

"Like dead?"

"No." Anne sighed and laid her head back on her pillow. This wasn't as easy as she'd hoped it would be. She was still tipsy from watching the sunset with Tina and planning while drunk was not her strong suit. She decided to go for it.

"Would you want to have sex with Tina?" She stared straight up at the ceiling, knowing she couldn't make out Tim's expression anyway, and nervous for his response.

"I don't think I should answer that question." Tim was as nervous as Anne about where this conversation was headed, but also intrigued and excited. Despite his exhaustion, he felt his penis lurch at the thought of what his wife might be suggesting. "Would you want me to?"

"I'm saying that it would be okay with me if you did." Anne continued to stare straight up.

"It would be okay with you if I wanted to, or it would be okay with you if I did?" Tim couldn't even say Tina's name out loud. It just hung in the air between them, without any need for vocalization.

Anne finally turned her head back to Tim. "Both, I think. I'd be okay with both."

Silence for a moment, broken finally by Tim. "But this is all theoretical. I mean, you're just throwing out the name of a friend as an example. It's not like you discussed this with Tina and she wants to do this."

"Is that a yes?"

"I guess. I mean, if we're just talking hypotheticals. A hypothetical isn't going to get between us."

"And if I was okay with it and it wasn't a hypothetical?"

Tim's penis lurched again, fully hard now and tenting his pajamas under the blanket.

"Yes ...?" Despite his now physically manifested excitement, Tim was still wary of a trap.

"Are you saying you've discussed this with her?"

"She hasn't gotten laid since her divorce. She's still not ready to get back into dating and all that, but wants to get laid."

"Uh. Wow. I guess that makes sense. And she wants ...?"

"She wants dick, Tim. This isn't about you. Not that aspect. But if being with her creates some excitement for us—that's a good thing."

"Uh, I think I have some excitement."

Anne laughed and reached under the blanket, putting her hand on the front of Tim's pajama bottoms. "Ah, yes. Still too tired?"

"I don't think I can sleep now." Tim reached for his wife, pulling their heads to together into a kiss.

3.

The logistics of the Tim and Tina encounter were tricky. None of them wanted to feel like this was an affair, with the two of them off banging in a hotel room while Anne stayed home with the kids. Hooking up at Tina's apartment seemed too familiar, like they were starting a relationship. It as Anne who finally dictated the arrangement. Tina would stay over one night in the basement, as she had other times when she and Anne had been out late together, and once the kids were asleep, Tim would go down to the basement to join her, but return to the bed he shared with Anne after the deed.

Meanwhile, and amidst all the discussions, Tim and Anne had ended their drought, over and over again, with a deluge of anticipatory sex. They had even discussed whether it was necessary to go through with it, but decided it wasn't fair to Tina to bail after meeting their goals for the adventure, but ignoring her needs.

It was a Saturday night. Both Tim and Anne had found it difficult to get anything done all day. They were too distracted. Things got a little easier when Tina came over for dinner with the family. Then with the kids off playing video games, Anne and Tina and Tim sat on the deck with wine and beer. They didn't talk about what was going to happen later, but they were all thinking about it, checking the time on their phones. The time passed as slowly as the sun set.

When it was bedtime for the kids, Tina went down the basement, leaving Tim and Anne to their routine. Then it was only waiting. It was like Christmas, when they had to wait until they were certain the kids were asleep before going downstairs to put out the presents. Except, at least for Tim, he was the one getting a present.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes, Tim. I'm sure."

"It isn't really fair to you."

"I've got my man. And maybe, you first, then I get a turn."

"With Tina?" Tim smiled at his proposal.

"Ha! No. Not quite my type. But you've got friends, too."

"So there are some strings attached to this."

Anne put her hand under the blanket and reached over to Tim. "It doesn't feel like that's a problem for you."

"I could live with that." They shared a moment of silence.

"Tim, it's time."

4.

Tim crept down the basement. He wondered where Tina would be, what she would be wearing, whether the lights would be on or off. As he neared the bottom of the stairs, he could see a dim light from a lamp he knew was in the far corner. And then there she was. She was still wearing the same outfit she was wearing on the deck, but her black silk blouse had one or two more buttons undone, revealing the shimmering pale skin of her chest and the upper contours of a black bra. She wore black capris, but had taken off her shoes, tucking her bare feet underneath her bottom as she sat seductively on a corner of the sofa with wine glass in hand.

"I've been waiting for you, Tim."

Tim was speechless. He's thought about Tina before. Kissing Tina, fucking Tina, licking Tina, Tina going down on him—certainly even more over the past week than he ever had. Now here she was, dressed as he had seen her dressed many times before, yet infinitely sexier. The dim light only served to make her more mysterious, recasting her from his fantasies.

Tim struggled with what to say, and only came out with "Have you been drinking this whole time?"

"Yes, Tim. But only just to be relaxed. Not enough to cloud my judgment."

"And you're okay with this, right?"

"This is a basement, not a dungeon. I'm not chained up. There's a door right over there and I know how to use it. Your wife is upstairs. I have all my bases covered."

Tim smiled. He always did like her sense of humor. That Tina was easy to talk to and joke with added to her allure.

"I want this, and you came down here, so I take it you want to do this, too."

"Y-yes."

"Then get over here."

The ten steps from the bottom of the stairs to where Tina was sitting on the sofa were long and measured. Tim felt like he'd been pulled over and asked to walk a straight line. He knew he could do it, but all the attention and focus made it harder than it should be. Each step was one closer to Tina and one further from the bed he shared with his wife. Tina smiled as he approached, put her glass down on the floor, and patted the sofa next to her. Tim followed her direction, sitting straight-backed on the sofa, rubbing his palms on his pajama bottoms.

"Sexy PJs, Tim," Tina joked.

"Thanks, Tina. I like yours, too."

"It's what I always wear to seduce my best friend's husband."

Tim looked at Tina's face, backlit by the lamp at the far end of the basement. Her dark eyes drew him in with their gravity. Tina leaned forward and touched his lips with hers. She reached over, putting her left hand on his right shoulder, turning his body towards her own. Tim tentatively reached out with his right hand, encircling Tina's waist. This was happening. As a teenager, sometimes he had made out with a girl and it was just that, decisions to proceed were made vocally and incrementally. But as an adult, at least since he'd been married, making out was just a prelude to sex. The decision to have sex was made before that first kiss. Still, Tim moved cautiously—this wasn't Anne, this was Tina, and her signals might be different.

Tina extended her left leg over Tim's lap and moved her body on top of his. That was a signal. Now both of Tim's hands were resting on Tina's hips, and her hands touched on his shoulders, his face, his chest. As their kissing became more intent, she ground into him. Tim had been hard by the time he'd reached the bottom of the basement steps and Tina took advantage of what she'd been missing since her divorce.

Tina broke away from the kiss. "It's okay if you want to undress me, Tim."

"Okay," Tim responded, as if ordered. Tina returned her lips to his, urgently, as Tim moved his hands up, unbuttoning her blouse.

As he reached the last button, she helped him, pulling it open and shrugging it off her shoulders, shedding the sleeves down her arms. She held her blouse in one hand and whipped it around over her head, before flinging it across the basement. "Yee-haw!" she murmured, while holding his bottom lip between hers. Tim responded by pulling her forward, feeling her soft breasts against his chest and taking delight in the thought of that sensation once her bra and his shirt were removed, too.