This story - the second chapter of a number I plan to write - is about a man's bicycle trip across Denmark. The locations exist but the characters are fictional. The first chapter was based in Copenhagen. I suggest you start with that chapter, though each does stand on its own and could be read separately.
Most of this chapter takes place near the northern tip of Denmark along the North Sea coast and is inspired by a nude painting -
The Bather
by the Danish artist Laurits Tuxen. Watch out for the brief time shift near the beginning!
I'd like to thank Gorza and VMKC for editing my story. I learned a lot from their feedback. Their input significantly improved the final product. Nevertheless, I'm ultimately responsible for what follows.
I enjoy receiving feedback about my stories. So I'd love to hear from you!
CHAPTER TWO - SKAGEN
I dismounted and walked my bike into the central Copenhagen train station. The sounds of people, pigeons and announcements echoed in the large hall. Looking up at a monitor, I saw that I had an hour and a bit before my train left.
I bought a small black coffee and sat down at a heavy wrought iron table. I was looking forward to savouring the taste of a good European blend while doing some people watching -- a favourite past time of mine. I suddenly remembered that I had intended to call my wife, Dana. She had arrived in Denmark a week before and was staying with a girlfriend in Jutland -- a peninsula in Denmark that extends northward from Germany along the North Sea coast.
I took another sip of my coffee and reached for my cell phone. As I called up Dana's number, I realized that I needed to say something about my experience with Inga yesterday. It was only right. But how would Dana take it, I wondered? Maybe it was something best talked about face to face?
I laid my phone back down on the table and started to think about what I would say. Memories of our happy marriage of more than 30 years flashed through my mind. The kids were now grown and busy raising their own families. I chuckled at the thought. Dana and I had always found time to be together as a couple and our love for one another had grown even stronger. I was unaware of the smile that had broken out on my face.
We had been pretty traditional at first with our lovemaking - limited to only a few sexual positions in our own bedroom. Gradually, we had become more adventurous. We enjoyed weekend excursions to large cities when our parents were available to babysit. Anonymity allowed Dana to dress in ways she wouldn't feel comfortable doing in our small home town out of fear that we'd meet someone we knew. We found hotel rooms, without kids, were particularly exciting and that we often needed a late checkout.
We always talked openly about our fantasies and what turned us on. We often sought safe ways to experience some of them - at an appropriate time and place. We had learned that by being open with one another, and willing to experiment, we could enjoy sex in ways we never had imagined when we first were married. If others knew about our adventures, they would be shocked. What a lucky guy I am, I thought!
There were tense moments though as we wrestled with the way we had been raised and social norms. The time Dana admitted to having sex with Peter was one of those moments. It was indelibly burned in my mind.
.....
"Paul, I have something to tell you," Dana said as I arrived home from work one day early in our marriage before we had children. "I met Peter downtown today."
"Oh, how's he doing?" I asked.
"Fine," Dana said. "We had lunch together and...".
I waited for Dana to finish as I took off my jacket and removed my tie. "And what?" I asked wanting her to know that I was still listening.
"Well, we went back to his place," Dana continued adding quickly "He wanted to show me his new apartment."
"Oh, what's it like?"
"Nice...".
Dana didn't sound her normal bubbly self. I turned around and found her with a worried look on her face.
"Paul, I had sex with Peter," she blurted out with a pained look on her face.
Her words were a punch to my chest. I was paralyzed...speechless. All kinds of angry thoughts flooded my mind. "Pardon me?" was all I could muster.
"One thing led to another and we had sex. Oh, Paul, we just got carried away...caught up in a moment." Dana started to move toward me with her arms open wide. I stepped back.
"You had sex with Peter?" I repeated dumbfounded in a raised voice.
"Yes, but it means nothing." Dana reached out for me.
I pushed her arms away. "You've got to be kidding!"
"We just got carried away. It means nothing Paul. I love you, not Peter!"
"Well, that's one hell of a way to show your love for me!" I said bitterly turning my back on her.
Dana tried to turn me around but I shook her arms off my shoulders and headed for the door. I slammed the door of our apartment behind me and walked out into the hallway afraid of what I might do or say if I were to remain in the same room.
I walked our neighbourhood for hours with all kinds of images running through my head: of Peter kissing Dana, fondling her breasts and fucking her. How could he? She was mine! How could she let him fuck her?
I knew men were attracted to Dana. In fact, I was quite proud of it. She was blonde and curvaceous, stood 5 foot 6 with beautiful firm breasts -- 34 Es -- a lovely complexion and smile. We often talked about how men looked at her, especially when we were away in the big city on weekends and she wore those tight fitting dresses with plunging necklines. In fact, I would deliberately walk behind her on the street so that I could watch men -- and women -- turn their heads as she walked by them. She was my trophy and I loved showing her off. It excited us both that others lusted after her. We went so far as to talk about how exciting a threesome or being with another couple might be.
I wondered what Peter was now thinking after having bedded my wife. Was he laughing at me behind my back? Was he bragging to others? The longer I walked, though, the more I thought of the pain in Dana's face when she told me about what had happened. She seemed genuine when she said she loved me. I started to wonder who am I to deny Dana what she wants. And what about all those fantasies we talked about? Were we playing with fire? Was I being hypocritical? Would I have acted any differently in the same situation?
I was less angry but terribly confused when I came back in the door later that evening. Dana was sitting on the couch. She had been crying. She rose. "Oh Paul, I didn't mean to hurt you. But I just didn't want to hide it from you. That wouldn't be right."
"I understand Dana, but it still hurts," I replied matter of fact.
She stepped closer, placed her arms around me and hugged me tightly. "You have to believe me. I love only you Paul."
I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. I returned to the living room and sat down at the other end of the couch where she was sitting. I took a deep breath, leaned forward with my hands clenched on my knees and asked "So, what exactly happened?"