Chapter 38

“No more for now,” he urged a clearly fatigued Kathryn as she sleepily suckled his sensitive glans. “It was as exquisite as always, but let’s take a break. We have all day. Come up here and get some more rest, my love. I can tell you need it.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged, licking the last of his ejaculate from her lips and sighing with contentment as he protectively embraced her. “It was a long day and night, and you wore me out in all sorts of ways. Will you sleep alongside me?”

“We’re tired for the same reason,” he laughed, wearily, “so of course I will.”

“Thank you.” She huddled even closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so much better than any lover I’ve ever had. I mean, I know I love you and that we have a connection beyond rationality, and I know you’re exceptionally skilled at a lot of things — especially the way I like them — but how can so you be so much better? What is it about you? And why am I so addicted to it? To you?” She was tracing her fingers through his chest hair as she rambled.

They’d drifted awake at roughly the same time and almost immediately began making slow, tender love, but their mutual fatigue brought about another break sooner than their (now)-standard multi-hour bacchanal would suggest. Since then they’d been talking about sex, which they both agreed was less interesting, but also less tiring, than having it. “You’re ... I’ve just ... Luke, as you can tell, I don’t even have coherent words to express what sex with you is like for me. Were I religious, I’d worship you.”

“I’m picturing you kneeling piously.”

“Darling, you know I’ll be on my knees a lot no matter what. But I don’t think what happens next will be all that pious.”

“Would this religion make heavy use of punishments for naughty behavior?”

“It’d better, because I intend to earn a lot of them by sinning as often as possible.”

“Draw up the sacred texts, then. And for what it’s worth, everything you just said applies to you as well. But now I’m curious: if I’m the best lover you’ve ever had, who’s number two?

“Do you really want an answer?”

“I’m curious, that’s all. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

“No, I will. Let me think about it.” She paused for while before blushing and offering a surprising response. “You’re going to be surprised, perhaps, but it’s Faith. Not,” she cautioned, “necessarily based on our single day together. But I know what she and I could be with more time to explore. It’s not just that she’s so skilled and intuitive, it’s that she’s...”

“She’s you, except living a life without limitations or boundaries save for maintaining her privacy. Yes, I figured that out almost immediately.”

“And that’s another reason you should be with her. Though now that I think about, it I guess my answer is more than a little self-centered, because I’m essentially naming a less filtered version of myself as the second best lover I’ve ever had.”

“I actually thought you might say that anyway. At least you didn’t answer ‘my hand.’”

“As much as I enjoy self-pleasuring I wouldn’t even put myself in the top thirty. I need partners for great sex. Anyway, isn’t your hand your second best lover?”

“Most frequent, certainly. Though you’re making an admirable attempt to claim that particular throne as well.”

“I do my best.”

“So thirty’s close to your number, is it?”

“Now that’s a question no one should want answered. It’s higher, but that’s all I’ll say. Where does your supermodel girlfriend fall in your sexual hierarchy?”

“Stop calling her that. To be honest, I think she’s probably second on my list as well, though with the same caveats you made.”

“See? One day with her and we’re already under her carnal spell. Can you imagine what it’d be like to be with her all the time?” The thought clearly aroused her.

“You mean as a duo or all three of us?”

“Either way.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll always need a battalion of sex partners to keep her satisfied, especially given how much she travels. Speaking for myself, though: since I can’t even handle one of you, the two of you together would put me in a very early grave ... though I’m sure it’d be worth it. I suppose if it was just the two of us it’d be a little like this, except without nearly as much love. Because she’s absolutely right about that.”

“I told you to...”

“ ... stop giving up on love. Yes, I remember. I’m not. I’m just keeping it focused where I want it most. There’s only one love I care about, despite the fact she’s constantly trying to push me into other women’s beds.”

“You know that, if we’re together, I’ll be doing that a lot, right?”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“Do we remember last night differently?” she asked with a smirk.

“Fair point. Would you expect the same from me?”

“Pushing me to be with other women?”

“Or men.”

“That would be up to you.”

“But would you want me to?”

“Only if it made you happy.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You should take it at face value. If you wanted me to be with other men or women, I would enjoy it very much, of course. But even if you wanted me all to yourself, I’d be completely content.”

“That doesn’t sound very equitable. Why would you let me experience other partners if I wouldn’t allow you the same freedom?”

“You’re right that, absent the need to consider anyone else’s feelings, I’d cast a very wide net, but I’d much rather do it with a willing and enthusiastic companion, and I’d greatly prefer that companion to be someone I love. Someone with whom I can share my experiences. But that means taking his or her feelings into consideration. Since we’ve been together, I’ve been with three other women and two other men. You’ve had no trouble accepting the former, but you’ve clearly struggled with the latter.”

“Two men? Who’s the ... oh, right. Look, it’s not exactly what you think. It’s not the idea of you having sex with another man that bothers me. And in any case, the two you’re talking about came with special conditions. One’s a former lover with a minotaur’s cock, and despite all my brave words and your patient assurances, it took me a really long time to relax about that. The other, of course, is your husband. I think if the man was just some random third party ... like, say, if Olivia had been Oliver ... I’d feel a lot less conflicted about it. What bothers me is me, or rather us. It’s my lack of certainty about us — the fear that you can be taken away from me, which in one of those two cases is a well-founded fear — that causes my anxiety. I didn’t think Wendy was a danger to our relationship, and I certainly didn’t worry about Olivia, either. It’s not how Faith operates. I’ve told you that I might feel a twinge were you and Irina to hook up, but only a temporary one, as choosing someone else over her is a choice you’ve already made. Aside from Bill, there’s only one lurking threat about whom I worry all the time.”

“Me?”

“No, although perhaps I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Who, then?”

“Professor Art Fingers, of course.”

Snorting with laughter, she slapped him on the chest. “Jerk. And here I thought you were being serious.”

“I was. I just thought that the mood needed lightening. Anyway, who’s your number three?”

“Are we really doing this?”

“We can stop at three if you’d like.”

“I’d like.” She thought for a moment, and then a sly smile appeared on her face.

“What? Who is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“I won’t be jealous.”

“It’s not that. He’s a judge now. A fairly well known one, too. He wouldn’t want his name associated with this story.”

“I can keep a secret.” She raised an eyebrow at him until he capitulated. “Okay, okay, fine.”

“We were clerking for a judge. Less than a minute after we met — this was our first day on the job — we both just knew we were going to have sex with each other. We barely even knew each other’s names, yet there was an instantaneous surety. In fact, it started that very night. We went to a bar with the intention of getting to know each other better, had exactly one drink, realized that none of the preliminaries mattered, and went to his place. We had a torrid two week affair, going from bed to work and back again. We didn’t date, we didn’t go out, we didn’t even really talk very much. There wasn’t much sleep happening, either. We just worked and fucked. And that’s all it was, too; there was no making love and no hint of feelings, from either of us. As for why he was so good, I don’t really have an answer I could put into words. Unlike you, he didn’t possess any specific skill I could point to as extraordinary, his penis was completely average, he wasn’t ripped or even particularly handsome, but he just ‘got’ my body and my sexuality in a way no one had ... until you came along, that is. And then it ended.”

“Why?”

“Because his fiancée from back home decided to fly in and surprise him at work.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.”

“Was there a big sexy catfight involving hair-pulling and the ripping of bodices, and more importantly is there a video of it?”

“Hah! By the way, as long as it ends in steamy girl-on-girl action followed by a threesome, that’s yet another fantasy of mine. No, it’s not like she caught us necking in the file room or anything. We kept it professional at work. He panicked when she first arrived, which meant I ended up having to introduce myself to her while he stood there sweating, but afterwards I made myself scarce so she wouldn’t catch me glaring at him. As far as I know he never told her, and I certainly didn’t. But he read the room, and two days later he was clerking for a different judge. He did eventually marry her, too. If I wasn’t doing something vastly worse right now, I’d feel sorry for her. Or maybe the sex is worth it, and she can’t help but love him anyway.”

Luke took a moment to absorb her self-recrimination. “No feelings at all, though? That seems out of character for you.”

“None worth mentioning, but you’re right. I mean, I was having terrific sex with the same person every single day, so I suppose if we’d kept on going I might have started wondering if there was anything else to it. I think it was because the relationship was so purely and obsessively sexual. I didn’t know what kind of music he liked, what his hobbies were, how big his family was ... none of that. Apparently including the fact that he was engaged. I was extremely annoyed, both at him and the fact that the sex was over, so I guess that’s a feeling,” she cackled.

“So you wouldn’t have kept having sex with him once she left?”

“Oh, hell no. Not just because of the fiancée, but because he lied about it. See? I had morals back then.”

“You have morals now. If you didn’t, this would all be much easier. What if you’d known in advance?”

She had to ponder this for a while. “I don’t know. Probably not, but then again in my current incarnation I’m not the best person to be opining on the ethics of fidelity. I know I tried really hard not to interfere with existing relationships. I obviously played around with some couples, like the jazz club story I told you the other day, but I don’t think — aside from the art class incident, in which it’s fairly likely at least someone was doing things they shouldn’t — I ever knowingly slept with someone who was in a committed relationship without their partner’s consent.”

“Something I can’t say anymore.”

“Luke, I didn’t mean to...”

“No, don’t worry. I didn’t think you aimed that at me. But I’m in no position to opine on the ethics of fidelity, either. Especially since my desires go well beyond mere infidelity.” To this she had no response, especially as the tremendous guilt behind his words was painfully obvious. “Anyway, I usually can’t do much more than nod and gasp at your stories, but for once I don’t have to. Great sex without feelings is something I’m quite familiar with.”

“So I assume that means Liz is your third?”

“Unquestionably, though if she knew about this conversation I guarantee she’d make the most vigorous possible case for at least reascending to second.”

“That’s really hot to think about. You should tell her.”

“What?”

“Tell her about this conversation. If she’s as much of a nympho as you say she is, you’ll enjoy the hell out of that effort. I know I’d give it my all. Invite her over and tell her she’s been demoted. You obviously can’t tell her by who, but...”

“I don’t know. It feels wrong.”

Concern troubled her visage, and she sat up and folded her legs. It was clear that difficult words were on the way. “Luke, there’s something that worries me, and this seems like as good a time as any for me to talk to you about it. I know you too well not to see this coming, and I have to at least try to stop it. Once you leave here, you’re going to go back to your apartment and just sit there, staring at the walls. Oh, I’m sure you’ll go to wine tastings and spend time with Wendy...”

“She’s already put me on a two-week probationary time out, after which there’s some sort of ritual involving enforced public drunkenness and confession, followed by enforced public sobriety. The latter, I’m told, will involve a lot of Luke being yelled at, which I’m looking forward to a great deal.”

Kathryn laughed, though there was little levity in it. “I’m sure you are. But, left to your own devices, what you’re not going to do is date. You’re not going to have sex. You’re going to sit at home and brood. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that — a respectful distance might help honor what we have, and give you the chance to figure some things out without me distracting you — but only for a little while. Give it two or three weeks if you must, but then I want you to have sex. Obviously, you should call Liz and bone like commitment-free rabbits. Go visit Olivia and rock her world. Leave the apartment and meet new people, then bring them home and fuck them. Go on dates. Hell, date Faith if you two can arrange it. Please do this for me, Luke.”

“Why would you ask me to ... how can you possibly expect me to do any of that? Even assuming I want to, which I doubt, it won’t work. For one thing, it’ll end up being a repeat of what happened right after I met you. I wouldn’t even be in the room with them. At best, I’ll be wishing I was having sex with you; at worst, I’ll be thinking about having sex with you. Liz let it slide once, for which I’m very grateful, but even she’s not going to be willing to let me use her like that again. For another, I’ll be comparing them to you, especially in bed but in other ways as well, and there’s no way they won’t fail that comparison. I can’t do that to someone else, and I can’t do it to you, either.”

“To me? You wouldn’t be doing anything to me.”

“I’d feel like I was cheating on you. On us.”

Kathryn chewed her lip for a while, as if she was reluctant to say what she was about to say. “Luke, until or unless I do something to make it impossible I will be having sex.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I mean ... well, of course you will, but...”

“Until an inflection point is reached, and maybe even after that, I’ll be having sex with my husband as often as possible. While you’re sitting in your apartment brooding, that’s one of the things you’ll be brooding about. The strain of waiting and not knowing what’s going to happen with us will be hard enough without you obsessing over that fact.”

“I ... I don’t...”

“Look me in the eye and swear that you’re not thinking about it right now.“ He sighed in defeat, for they both knew the truth. Her tone softened. “And that’s with me right beside you, naked and willing to resume having sex with you whenever you’re ready. When you’re alone in your apartment it’s going to be much, much worse. So, my love, one way or another, you are going to have to figure out how to put that beautiful dick into someone else’s pussy without thinking about me. Because the alternative will drive you mad.”

He covered his eyes with a forearm as if to ward off something hovering directly in front of his face. Something he desperately wanted to avoid seeing. “You’re right. I hate everything about it, but you’re right. There’s one thing you’re failing to consider, though.”

“To you, this conversation sounds like yet another way to prepare you for inevitable heartbreak.”

He sighed again. “I guess I really am that transparent.”

“You are to me, my love. Do you know what I’m going to say in response?”

“That no matter what happens, you want me to be happy.”

“Exactly. Whether I stay with Bill, move on to a life without either of you, or make you wait on my decision to be with you, you’re going to need a social life. A sex life. Even a love life. And if I do end up with you ... well, we’ll have our first series of potential adventures already lined up, won’t we? There’s so much more we could do with Olivia, for example, and I know Liz and I would get along famously.”

“None of which changes how I feel about it. They’re not you. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Stop giving up on love, Luke.”

He reached for her, pulling her back into his arms. His heart was hammering in his chest. She felt it, shifting until her ear was directly over the pounding organ. She listened for a while, tenderly kissed the point at which it threatened to beat straight through his ribs, then once again laid her head directly atop it, stroking his arm in silent comfort until the hammering slowed.

We’re talking in circles and there’s nothing else to say. Nothing to do except be with each other. While we still can.

They didn’t get out of bed until shortly after noon. Lunch became the breakfast they hadn’t had; coffee, fruit, pastries, and a lot of silence and tired eyes. The rejuvenation process was completed by separate showers. When Kathryn emerged from the bathroom, dabbing her hair with a towel, she found Luke staring at the lake.

“A blowjob for your thoughts,” she hummed as her breasts pressed into his back and her arms wrapped around his waist.

“I’m not sure they’re worth that much.”

“Handjob?”

He couldn’t help laughing. “It’s not a negotiation. I’ll happily take both, but you can have the thoughts for free.”

“So? Spill!”

“I was just watching the clouds roll in.”

“What... oh!“

“That is, if you’re up for it.”

“Two consecutive days of public fornication? Who are you, and what have you done with my prudish lover?” Tossing the towel onto the bed, she reached around and gently stroked his cock with both hands. “Remind you of anything?”

“It reminds me of everything. Except this time, you’re cleaning the window.”

“Tsk tsk, Luke. You don’t actually think I’m going to let you just waste your delicious semen like that, do you?” Before he could respond, she was sitting on the sofa, pulling him closer until his erection was pointed directly at her mouth. “That’s better. How long do you think it’ll take to completely cloud over?”

“I’m not exactly a meteorologist.” He peered at the sky. “Maybe an hour?”

“Mmmmmm. One hour-long session of oral negotiation, coming right up!”

By the time the last vestiges of direct sunlight disappeared, Luke’s legs were wobbly from standing relatively motionless for so long. Kathryn, of course, seemed perfectly content to fellate him forever ... though she’d been parsimonious with his climaxes, demanding only two along the way. On the other hand, the sofa’s leather surface was wet with her fluids, and she had to repurpose the towel to sop up the mess before they departed.

“Did I win the contract?” she asked with a playful grin. He shook his head in amazement, leading her out the door and towards the dock.

“God, YES! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, FUUUUUCK MEEEEE!!!“

He winced and stopped pumping. “You’re being ten times as loud as usual on purpose, aren’t you?”

“C’mon, Luke, don’t stop fucking me,” she begged, rolling her hips invitingly.

“Seriously, though.”

With an aggrieved sigh, she opened her eyes. Despite her arousal and impatience, they were filled with amusement. “Not ten times, because having sex out here really is turning me on. But what’s the point of having sex in the great outdoors if you can’t frighten a few fish?”

“It’s not the fish I’m afraid of.”

“There’s my beloved monk. I wondered when he’d show up. Baby, this isn’t like trying to sneak a quick and silent backseat hummer in a crowded parking lot, hoping no one will notice but secretly getting off on the idea that they might. We’re completely exposed, physically and aurally. You’re right: the belief that someone across the lake might hear us having sex is incredibly arousing to me. I know you’re not going to join me in this serenade of passion, and that’s fine. But I want to be loud. No, I need to be loud. Stop worrying about the volume and concentrate on what you’re doing to me, because I’m not faking the pleasure. I’m just making sure everyone else knows just how damned good it is, too,” she added with a sultry smile.

“I doubt the fish need any more convincing,” he mumbled as he resumed rutting.

Her deafening howls of ecstasy every time she climaxed were, he decided, among the loudest sounds to which he’d ever been proximate, and he was treated to quite a few before he was too uncomfortable to continue. In truth, the experiment — while in no way a failure and, in the end, exciting for both of them — was somewhat awkward and difficult to conduct. In the boathouse, on these very same repurposed boat cushions, Kathryn had been restrained and her movement limited. Without the benefit of restraints, their coupling kept moving the cushions around, creating gaps that widened until one or the other was in oscillating against the unforgiving and uncomfortable surface of the dock itself. At one point, Kathryn even suggested that he retrieve the restraints and secure her to the posts that anchored the dock, and for a while he considered it. But the danger of unexpected discovery while she was bound like that dissuaded him, and so they simply muddled through.

After stowing the cushions, he proposed an encore on the beach itself. She was surprisingly hesitant, which surprised him in turn; her reluctance to engage in any type of sexual activity was shocking and unprecedented. Eventually, she relented, but with a condition. “Only if I’m on top,”

“If you really don’t want to...”

“No, no, it’s fine. Bad memories of having sex on a beach, that’s all. Not your fault.”

“If it reminds you of something traumatic, we can...”

“No, not traumatic. Well, yes traumatic, but not in that way. Just ... a lot of sand.”

“It is a beach,” he quipped.

“No, I mean sand inside me. Everywhere inside me.”

“Oh. Ouch.”

“Yes, ouch. Especially since it took a few minutes for us to realize that the unexpected dryness in my vagina and the equally unexpected sensation of sandpapered penis was because he was thrusting through a tunnel of actual sand. We got carried away and we paid the price.”

“Yikes.”

“The cleanup wasn’t much fun, either. Anyway ... yes, absolutely let’s have sex on the beach. Later, when you’re fishing sand out of your butt, just remember that I tried to warn you.”

It was a somewhat odd experience (at least for him) to have sex with his head measurably lower than his feet, but Kathryn insisted on the position. As soon as her cries of passion began, however, he realized why: she was facing the lake, once again directing the considerable volume of her ecstasy towards her unseen audience. Their eminently satisfying climaxes arrived simultaneously, and when he was done filling her with yet another volley of sperm she collapsed on top of his body, breathing heavily and admitting that fatigue was catching up with her again.

“Only one thing to do about that,” he said, rolling over and sweeping her limp form into his arms.

“Luke, what are you ... no, don’t you dare... don’t you fucking...” The rest of her warning was inaudible as she plunged into the cooling autumnal waters of the lake. He dove in after her, absorbing the full fury of a ravishing but very angry redhead by holding her so tightly against his body that she couldn’t move. Eventually, she gave in and resorted to kissing and fondling him until he dropped his guard, freeing her from his clutches. Moments later, she was out of the water and fleeing across the lawn, laughing delightedly.

“Love, can you tell me how long?”

He was puttering around the kitchen, trying to figure out what he wanted to cook. On its face her question was vaguely worded, but given that it was a question he asked himself all the time, he had no trouble reading between its lines. “I can’t, but it’s going to be soon.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“I’m waiting for a sign.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious. Based on the remaining work, I could leave right now.” She gasped, clearly unprepared for this response. “I’ve justified staying because there are incoming shipments to file and record — that’s the truth-enveloping-a-lie that I gave your husband, by the way — but of course those shipments will continue indefinitely, with or without me. The roadmap for future purchases has been finished for a while, I just haven’t shown it to you because it feels like another way of saying goodbye. I’ve taught you how to place future orders without my involvement. Nothing about the job requires my ongoing presence, and I could easily clear up any loose ends at home. I’m obviously staying because I can’t bear the thought of leaving, but there’s another consideration: the amount of time I can keep excusing it professionally is running out. I’ve been here for a really long time, and aside from one lunch and a few chats with Wendy, most of which weren’t about wine, I’ve been almost completely cut off from my industry. I need to maintain my network, keep up my education, and most importantly, find new work. The only actual answer I have is that I’m not going to leave unless we’re the only ones here and it’s been that way for a while. I want to have one more beautiful stretch of days with you.”

“And that’s... ?”

“Soon. It’s not tomorrow, but it’s not a month from now, either. It’s coming. I’ll know when I know. Ironically, it’s yet another choice that your husband will have a major role in making. You don’t happen to know his schedule, do you?”

“Aside from the fact that he’s returning Thursday around noon, no. I don’t think he does, either.”

“Well, then I’m here until that changes, and for an unknown period of time after that, but...” He trailed off.

“You’ll tell me, right? You won’t just slip out in the middle of the night?”

“Of course I’ll tell you. Anyway, how could I slip out when you’re always with me?”

“Luke...” She sounded terribly sad, and it tore new cracks in his already crumbling heart. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either. But I can’t stay. Even if we found some ridiculous excuse to justify it, things would just get harder and harder to hide. Here’s another irony: there actually is a way to justify it. It’s just that we can’t take advantage of it”

“There is?”

“I’ve never done work of this nature while living on site; usually, it’s a day or two to survey the cellar, after which I do the majority of the work from home. With most clients I make regular revisits to check on things, to suss out how they’re feeling about the wines I’ve introduced, and so forth. It’s part of an ongoing contract, and I prefer to do it in person whenever possible. But there’s no way I could do that for you, and I’m not even going to try.”

“Why not?”

“The contract’s with both of you, so he’d have to know about the visits. Just how many times do you think we could get away with me being here while Bill just happens to be away, if that even continues to be the case more often than not? Twice, maybe? It’d be like waving a cape at a bull. ‘Hey, look at us, we’re having an affair!’ So I’d have to come while he’s here. But that gains us nothing, plus I know I couldn’t deal with seeing the two of you together while completely unable to be alone with you.”

“You’re right, of course. It was a pointless hop, e and no good would come of it.”

“Exactly. I have to go. And then I lose you forever.”

“Luke, my love, please don’t...”

“Kathryn, as I’ve told you since we finally started talking about this, I’ve never had much hope. I still don’t. I’m going to leave and you’re going to choose to make the best of it with Bill. It might not be perfect or everything you want, but you’ll only leave him if he utterly rejects you. He’ll be angry if you tell him about us, of course, but if he loves you like I love you, he’ll eventually forgive you. I’m not prepared for it and maybe I never will be, but I’m going to have to start. I’ve tried to be noble, tried to be hopeful, even tried ... probably too late ... to be proactive, but I can’t win this one. And so I’m going to make love to you every minute I’m able until I have to go, and then...”