Chapter 39

For the first time in a long while, Luke woke to an otherwise unoccupied bed. He wondered at her ability to sneak out without waking him, and also why she’d done so.

Several hours later, he received an answer to the second question.

The cellar door yawned open, startling him in the midst of his otherwise mindless work. He was almost done stowing the last of the new arrivals and wondering how he was going to waste the rest of his day in a sufficiently distracting way when the interruption occurred.

“Kathryn, I didn’t expect to see ... what’s wrong?” Though she wasn’t actively crying, it was clear that she’d done so in the very recent past and was teetering on the verge of resumption.

“Come upstairs.” Confused, he followed her up to the apartment. He’d barely reached the top of the staircase when she fell to her knees and began matter-of-factly unbuckling his belt. Glancing nervously at the clock — Bill was scheduled to arrive in less than an hour — he reached down to stop her. She angrily batted his hand away, cradling his soft flesh in her palm as soon as she’d finished exposing his manhood.

“But...”

“Be quiet,” she grunted, wrapping her lips around his still-unresponsive phallus. It didn’t take her long to change that status, of course, but by the time he was fully erect he noticed her eyes were indeed welling. The blowjob that followed was of a type he’d received from her on a few previous occasions; a ravenous oral pleasuring that was less about building sensation or the eventual gift of his seed than it was about her desire to have his cock in her mouth. Though she didn’t push him nearly as hard as he knew she could, she worked efficiently enough to bring him to orgasm a few short minutes later. Once she’d extracted and swallowed the last few drops of his semen, she sat back on her heels, looking terribly sad as fresh tears flowed down her cheeks.

Feeling helpless and bewildered, he knelt beside her and tried to embrace her. Again, she pushed him away. “No. Please don’t. It’s too intimate.” And a blowjob isn’t? he wondered. As if she’d read his thoughts, she wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt and explained, “Giving you head was about me. It was something I needed, and I apologize for using you to get it. Hugging you, being comforted by you ... those make it about us. I can’t be ‘us’ when I have to remember how to be his.”

“I don’t really understand, but let’s put that aside for now. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You just did it. You let me come over and suck your cock...” she mimicked his earlier glance at the clock, though he doubted she really needed to do so “ ... about fifty minutes before my husband will pull into our driveway, expecting to be greeted by a kiss and a loving embrace.”

“Isn’t that ... aren’t you... ?” He was teetering on the verge of observing how incredibly disrespectful her actions seemed, despite the benefits he’d just enjoyed, but judged it an unwise rhetorical road to travel. Especially coming from me. It’s not like I have any moral legs on which to stand. Still ... even though I want her to leave Bill for me, this isn’t something I’d ever try to do to him. Everything else is bad enough.

“Breaking my very last unbroken promise? Yes, very nearly so. Treating him shabbily? Yes, to an extent that opens up entirely unexplored frontiers of self-loathing. The only thing that could possibly be worse is fucking you. Something I was just barely able to talk myself out of doing, by the way.”

He was still reeling from the encounter, and her clarification only added to his confusion. “I’m not sure I see the difference.”

“Toothpaste and mouthwash can hide this particular sin. Nothing can absolve me of it, but that hardly matters anymore. Evidence left elsewhere in my body is much more difficult to completely eliminate. After our night of bed-swapping with Wendy and Irina, I have recent experience in this regard and would prefer not to repeat a process that’s unpleasant enough without being accompanied by so much guilt.”

He didn’t know what to say in response, so he remained silent until she continued. “I had every intention of remaining in your bed and in your arms until mid-morning, after which I’d set us aside for a while and prepare for the resumption of my marriage. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, the only thing I wanted to do was exactly what I just did. Apparently, I can’t wake up next to you without sucking you dry anymore. The obsession grew until I couldn’t bear it any longer, so I snuck out and fled to my house; naked, horny, and seething with a mixture of lust and self-recrimination over my weakness. I tossed and turned until the voices in my head became a cacophony that made it clear more sleep was to be denied me. I forced myself to go through the motions of preparation, and for a while they were enough of a distraction, but in the end I couldn’t help it. In fact, it was even worse than before, because the closer it got to the time it would no longer be possible, the more I craved it. I couldn’t think about anything else. It became an all-consuming obsession. And so, here I am on my knees, a cheating whore desperately clinging to dental hygiene as the only barrier between me and the ultimate betrayal.” She swiped away another tear. “Every time I think I can’t be more awful to him, I prove myself wrong. Since I’m well aware that I’m also being awful to you with my indecision, I guess that makes me a pretty damned unforgivable person, doesn’t it?”

It sounded like a confession, but Luke was in no better position to offer absolution than her own inner demons. Lacking even the vaguest notion of what to say or do that might free her from misery, he instead focused on his growing anxiety over the rapidly advancing hour. “I know I don’t need to remind you of the time, but...”

“Right, of course.” Refusing his offer of assistance, she rose to her feet and shuffled to the bathroom. When she emerged, it was clear that she’d applied a little makeup to mask the evidence of her tears. She approached him and opened her mouth. “Is it gone? Can you smell it?”

“I’m not sure I’m much of an expert, but...” He sniffed. “You smell like toothpaste and mouthwash. It’s gone.”

“That’s the thing, though. It’s not. It never will be.” Without the briefest touch or backward glance she left the apartment, leaving him in her wake of despair.

Later, as his own obsession over the morning’s events grew, he discovered something surprising in what she’d done: a gossamer thread of hope. That she’d do something like that so close to his arrival has to be a sign that, in some sense, she prioritizes me over him, doesn’t it? I can’t imagine she’s ever done something like that to me; once he’s left for the airport, it’s usually at least several hours before I see her, and as a rule sex takes the better part of a day to resume. She’s clearly telling the truth when she says that what happened this morning was about her needs, but it could also say something about us, couldn’t it? Maybe something she doesn’t even realize, at least not consciously.

As the day went on and the fog of isolation descended, however, he began to question his newly formed assumptions. What do I really know about their sexual motivations, though? I know a surprising amount about what they do, but almost nothing why they do it. How do I know what they’ve gotten up to in the final hours before she returns to me? He gnawed on this distasteful gristle for a while, decided that worrying about it was a sure path to unresolvable insanity, and discarded it in favor of his anorexic but no longer nonexistent optimism.

Screw it. If I’m on the verge of leaving, I’m going to enjoy myself to the fullest. It’s not like I ever got anywhere near taking advantage of my full allowance, anyway. Luke slid the bottle from its home in the rack, staring reverently and a little defiantly at the label. 1992 Leflaive Bâtard-Montrachet. A wine I’ve never tasted and that I can’t believe they own six bottles of. Well, now it’s five. Grabbing a different bottle from the cull rack, he headed upstairs.

It was thus that lunch became an exercise in excess and hedonism. A boneless, skinless chicken breast — to his mind the most tasteless way to consume the ubiquitous bird — was locked in a shell of plastic film and submerged in a swirling water bath, having reached (via the magic of an immersion circulator) its ideal internal temperature. Sous vide was the only reliable way to coax proper texture and doneness from the otherwise frequently dry, too-often flavorless cut, though it was about to become the canvas for a great deal of decadence. Finishing it off with a rich sauce made from shallots, garlic, multiple reductions of an inexpensive chardonnay he’d opened to cook with, and the rest of the previous night’s heavy cream, he added the same meal’s reheated endives to the plate, tipped the decanted Leflaive into a globe-shaped crystal stem, and sat down to the single most expensive lunch he’d concocted since his arrival two and a half months ago. As he meditatively drained the wine to its dregs, he began recalling every moment of his time with Kathryn in exquisite detail, trying to set a pace that would bring him to the end of his reverie the night before she returned to his side.

The afternoon eventually passed into evening, and Luke accomplished little aside from frequent bouts of arousal that he resolutely refused to satisfy on his own. Another trip to the cellar produced a second indulgent prize, a Rayas Châteauneuf-du-Pape from 1998 that he drank alongside duck confit, plus assorted root vegetables roasted in repurposed duck fat and a scattering of herbs. Two heavy meals in a row. Should I make a salad? No, what I should do is get some exercise for a change. He took another sip of the explosively aromatic, animalistic Rayas. Tomorrow. I’ll get some exercise tomorrow. I’ll sweat and strain until everything’s sore.

It was a promise he’d keep, though not exactly the way he expected.

“Luke! How’ve you been?”

“Lazy and indulgent. Hence this long-overdue run.” Bill had emerged from the house as Luke was stretching against the guesthouse wall. “You’re getting an early start, aren’t you?”

“That’s because I’ll be suffering an early finish. I think all this travel has permanently damaged my circadian rhythms. Anyway, I woke up before dawn and figured that I might as well work while I’m still conscious. Speaking of early starts and finishes, come over this afternoon. We’ll have drinks by the pool and an early dinner. Sev’s whipping up something lavish, or so she tells me, but she wouldn’t give me any more information than that. So, unless you can pry it out of her, you might need to bring about half the cellar, just to be on safe side.”

Luke laughed. “Oh no. I’m not messing up all the work I’ve — we’ve — done. I’ll figure it out at dinner. It’s not like the cellar’s all that far from your dining room, though it’s been so long since I’ve gone for a run that I might regret saying that.”

It was Bill’s turn to chuckle. “Speaking of work...”

“It’s very close to done.” Luke knew he should feel shame over the boldfaced lie, but he didn’t. A realization that eventually led to the shame he should have felt in the first place.

“That wasn’t what I was going to ask, son. I was wondering if you could show me how to use the cellar software this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Well, now I feel even guiltier. “Of course I can. Bring your laptop and your phone, and I’ll get you set up. It’s not all that complicated, and if you have any questions, Kathryn’s already an expert.”

“Of that, I’ve no doubt. Though in this case she’s likely to be an impediment to my education.”

“Why’s that?”

“Luke, she’s also going to be relaxing by the pool,” he explained with a sly wink. Luke tried to hide the flush that reddened his cheeks, but he was unsuccessful.

“Ah ... right. Well...” He stuttered for a few more moments, then forced a change of subject. “Will you be home for a while?” I wonder if he can hear the craven selfishness in my question? It’s the only thing I can hear.

Bill’s mod abruptly darkened. “Unfortunately not. I’m back on a plane Sunday, returning the following Saturday. After that, though, a miracle: I’m here for three solid weeks. One of my clients is getting married and going on honeymoon, so I’m finally getting some time away from that unholy mess. But then...” Though he left the rest unsaid, his displeasure was quite evident. Luke didn’t know what to say, but in the back of his mind he was already processing this unexpected information. “Anyway, I need to get to the office while I’m still awake enough to drive. It rained last night, so you shouldn’t have any problems with dust on the road. See you later.”

With a slam of the car door, he was gone. Luke finished stretching and followed in the automobile’s wake, his agile thoughts easily outpacing his sluggish legs.

He opened the shower door and reached for his towel. It wasn’t where he’d left it, nor had it fallen to the floor. His confusion ended when he looked up and noticed a diminutive copper-haired woman holding it just out of reach.

“Uh...”

“You know, Luke, if I didn’t have both firsthand and externally documented evidence of just how often you get laid, I wouldn’t believe a word of it. It’s certainly not because you’ve mastered the art of the devilishly clever pickup line.” Irina smirked at his attempt to conceal his nudity behind the completely transparent glass door. “You’ve already put that thing everywhere inside me, remember? I think the time for modesty has passed.”

Still startled by her presence, he blurted out, “I thought you weren’t going to come over without calling.”

“I’m not, and I didn’t. I called ahead and received permission.”

“But I ... who ... oh.” Why would Kathryn tell her to just waltz in without talking to me?

“Seriously, your hesitancy is adorable but unnecessary. Come out and dry yourself off. I promise to look.”

Fine, if that’s the way she wants to play it. He opened the door, taking the towel from her outstretched hands. As promised, she stood and watched everything, following him to the dresser but interrupting him when he reached for his underwear.

“You don’t need to get dressed on my account.”

“Huh?”

“There’s that poetic soul at work again.”

“I really don’t think ... why are you getting undressed?” Irina’s shirt was already on the floor and her pants were halfway down her thighs.

“What usually happens when two people are naked and there’s an available bed? Unless you convince me otherwise — though if you do, I promise I’ll be deeply wounded — we’re going to have sex.”

“But...”

“I appreciate how you incorporate a certain monosyllabic rhythm into your speech patterns,” she dryly observed as she slid her panties down her legs, adding them to the small pile of clothing at her feet.

“Wait...”

“But it’s starting to get a little boring,” she continued as she pushed him onto the bed and straddled his lap. “Besides, there are much more interesting things you could be doing with your mouth.”

“I just...” He took a deep breath. Stop being ridiculous and get to the bottom of this. “After our first time, you were pretty clear that a repeat wasn’t likely. But then we did it again when Wendy was here, you propositioned me at the boathouse, and now ... I’m both aroused and confused.”

“Is that a no?”

“Absolutely not. You’re beautiful, you’re sexy, and as you can probably feel I’m already warming to the idea. But I’d at least like to understand why. Not that I really mind, considering what I’ve experienced as a result, but is Kathryn pimping us out again?”

“No, not this time. I mean yes, she and I had a conversation that ended with her encouraging me to do exactly what I hope we’re about to do, and she had her own reasons that you two can discuss later, but this is all about me. I’m...” She blushed a bit and started caressing Luke’s body with her small hands. “As I told you when we hooked up the first time, I was in a tragically long-enduring sexual drought. I thought that I could just go back to it after you and I got together, but it didn’t exactly turn out that way, and your lover had a lot to do why it didn’t. In retrospect, I think it was entirely deliberate on her part. Because in addition to all the sequels you mentioned, you forgot the day I got myself off while listening to the two of you in the cellar, plus the multiple times she made sure I walked in on one or both of you in various states of carnal excess. None of that was accidental; Kathryn rarely leaves anything sexual to pure chance. Add the unexpected encounter with your friend Wendy, which as you might remember she also engineered, and ... well, for better or worse, my sex drive is back. Or, putting it more plainly: I’m horny, your dick is unexpectedly available, you’re very good in bed, and the complications involved in having sex with you are small enough to be manageable. I have just shy of four hours with no competing commitments, and if you’re interested I’d like us to put them to frictional use. So, are you in or not?”

He grinned, wrapping his hands around her tight derriere and pulling her moistening center against his erection. “Not yet, but I certainly intend to be.”

With so much more available time than during any of their previous encounters, Luke was able to test the boundaries of her preference for dominance. After a few early struggles she got into the sport of it as well, even allowing him to take her in the missionary position for a little while before grimacing and rolling him to his back. Still, for her to reach orgasm — and she eventually achieved a quintet; one while receiving oral sex and two each as he pounded her tight holes — she had to be on top, or at least not trapped underneath him in any way. Even interstitial bouts of cunnilingus usually occurred with her riding his face. Her penchant for unimaginably filthy encouragement reached its apogee during one such encounter.

Loosening her anal entrance enough to admit his organ was exactly as arduous as Wendy had claimed, but they persevered and (judging by the fact that she experienced two climaxes over the course of nearly an hour of vigorous sodomy) she seemed to enjoy it even more than the last time. At one point they shared a shower — Irina admitted that she wasn’t nearly as into the buildup of excess sexual fluids as Kathryn — but one with relatively little erotic play. “It takes me so long to come that it ends up being a terrible waste of water,” she explained as she soaped his genitals.

When they returned to bed, she asked if he would just hold her for a while. He recognized it as an expression of trust and comfort on her part, and quickly agreed. As had been the case the last two times they’d had sex, he was a little sore from repeatedly slamming into her lean body. The difficult conversation that followed was as expected as it was inevitable, and led to its own bruises.

“So, how much longer are you planning to fuck her brains into gelatin?”

“I’m not...”

“Oh yes you are. I can see it in her eyes and on her face. I’ve even watched and listened to it, remember? Things have changed since the last time we had this conversation. She’s riding a sexual high unlike any she’s ever experienced, and while I’m a little jealous over not being able to take her there myself, I can only imagine what it’s like for her. I know what it’s like for you, because I’ve been a lucky recipient myself. But you’re making her stupid. You, your hands, your lips, all your kinky theatrics ... but mostly your dick.”

“I’m not trying to do any of that.”

“Well, I wasn’t trying to crawl back onto the aforementioned dick either, yet here I am. And you’re still avoiding my question.”

Luke sighed heavily. The morning’s conversation with Bill had never left his mind, and while he thought he’d been focusing all his conscious energy on pleasuring Irina, some subconscious background process had collated the available data and reached a manifestly unwanted conclusion.

“I’ll be here until next Saturday,” he answered, in a tone as bleak as his future.

Irina turned to face him, her icy blue eyes wide with surprise. “Only one more week? That’s all?”

“By the time I leave, I’ll have been here just shy of three months. They’re paying me very well, but I’m starting to do damage to my career. And there’s something else forcing my hand: starting next weekend, he’ll be home for three straight weeks. That would be torture for me all by itself, plus I have absolutely nothing to do that could possibly maintain the illusion that there’s ongoing or unfinished work. I want whatever time she and I have left to be exclusively our own, and so...” He drifted off, feeling wretched and hopeless.

“When did you decide?”

“I don’t know. I learned about Bill’s schedule this morning, but I hadn’t decided before you arrived. Which means ... sorry ... I guess it was while we were having sex. But I didn’t know until you asked. The answer just popped into my head.”

“You really need to work on your conversational intimacy,” she grumbled, turning back around and cupping his hand over her breast. “Someone with less self-confidence than me might be a little offended that you were rearranging your calendar while we were fucking”

“I promise I wasn’t actively thinking about it.”

“I know you weren’t, and I’m just teasing. No one could make me come that hard or that often — and yes, I know I’m practically frigid compared to her, but five orgasms is a very big morning for me, and I hope we’re not done — without fully committing to it.” She paused, as if she was trying to decide whether or not to say what was on her mind. Luke was completely unsurprised when she plunged ahead anyway. “You thought you’d have more time, didn’t you?”

“I did, but I also didn’t, if that makes sense.”

“As much as anything about your relationship does.”

“Over the last few weeks, I’ve been increasingly aware that I’ve abandoned any pretense that I’m here to work. She and I have openly acknowledged it, and if Bill was here more often there’s no way he wouldn’t have noticed by now. In fact, I suspect he’s starting to wonder, because he came right out and asked me about it. In any case, I no longer have the tools to keep hiding it from him.”

“It seems to me that you’ve gotten pretty good at hiding tools from him.”

“Funny. Plus, Kathryn and I have been doing a lot of talking about us and whether or not we have a future. Long-overdue talking, I suppose, but at least we finally did it. Up to a point, I felt like she was actively encouraging me to stay. Since we got everything out in the open, though, she’s a lot more conflicted. More than once she’s confessed that, for there to be progress towards any kind of future, she needs me to leave. I don’t think I’ve ever fully appreciated just how much pain her double life has been causing her, but I do now. She says that she won’t be able to get her head on straight with me around, and I believe her.”

“It must hurt, though.”

“Everything hurts, so you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“To be dismissed like that, knowing that she hasn’t chosen you. That she might not choose you after all. That you might have just one more week together and then never see each other again. Sorry for being so blunt, but except for the last part it’s exactly what happened to me. I can tell you all about how awful it is if you’d like.”

“You’re not being very comforting,” he muttered.

She wiggled closer to his body as if to provide a counterpoint to the dreariness of her assessment. “Don’t come to Russians if you’re looking for unconditional emotional support. Besides, you know my position. I’m not on your side, and I’m not on his either. I’m on hers.”

“I know. But surely you have an opinion.”

“About her future? I do. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Not really, but I’m sick and tired of listening to the repetitive voices in my head. Why not add yours to the guilt-ridden soundtrack?”

“Okay, but don’t forget that I warned you. I think she’d be happier with you, and if she asks — which she won’t, so don’t pin any hopes on me — I’ll tell her exactly that. Sexually, of course, there’s no question who she belongs with. But in the long run, I think she’d also be more fulfilled in all sorts of non-sexual ways. Whether or not he stops being away so much, Bill’s not going to change. He’s never going to allow her the sexual adventure she craves, of course, but it’s about more than just sex. If he ever retires ... and that’s a big if, because he’s always been a workaholic ... they’ll travel, and she’ll enjoy that a great deal. But he’s a lot older than her, and while he keeps himself fit — or at least he used to; I can’t imagine all his travel isn’t taking a toll on his health — he’s going to slow down long before she does. And then what? She’s innately gifted at taking care of people, and she was amazing with my little girl, but if she thinks she feels trapped now...” Irina’s grip on his hand was tightening as she spoke, and by proxy he was squeezing her breast hard enough to cause a little moan of pain. It put an end to the vehemence of what had been turning into a rant. “Sorry, I shouldn’t get so worked up about this. It’s not my life to live. From a purely selfish standpoint, I should hope they stay together lest I lose her as a friend. You told me you’d have to move away, right?”

“I don’t see how we could stay. I couldn’t...”

“You don’t need to explain. The reasons are obvious, and they apply to both of you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to offer her your wisdom?”

“Don’t ask me to do something like that, Luke. I’m here to be your sexual plaything for a few hours, and vice-versa, but I’m not yours and I don’t belong to you or owe you in any fashion whatsoever ... with one potential exception that we’ll get to later. Also, I don’t promise that what I just said would be the entirety of my advice. You asked me what I thought, and I said she’d be happier, but I didn’t say she’d be better off. I’m still undecided about that. As for you, and as you certainly know by now, the unfortunate truth is that unless someone’s cruel to her, Kathryn doesn’t fall out of love. That, much more than Bill himself and anything he might say or do, is your most formidable opponent, and what’s most likely to keep you two apart.”

Though his gut churned at the frankness of her depressing declaration, he couldn’t deny its fundamental rightness. Grasping for anything that might reopen a tiny window of optimism, he asked, “What do you think she’ll do?”

“Over the short term? I think she’ll beat herself up for a while. She’ll also wage a tremendous campaign of ‘making it up’ to her husband. That’s going to involve as much sex as his stamina will allow, and an unusual amount of deference.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he mumbled, trying not to grind his teeth into splinters.

“I’m not done. There’s a chance that her sudden deference will make him suspicious, and while she’s usually smart enough to avoid that outcome, you know that I think you’re fucking the smarts right out of her. In any case, when she feels like they’re on more solid ground, she’s going to confess. And by confess, I mean everything, because that — not the sneaky and secretive person she’s become with you — is who she is. You might want to think about high-velocity exit strategies while you still can.”

“I already am. She keeps assuring me he won’t go out of his way to cause me trouble, but...”

“She’s wrong. She’s blinded by love. Bill may seem like a jocular and easygoing man, and outside of work he usually is, but he has a truly fearsome temper, and learning about what you two have been doing, and especially how you feel about each other, will bring it out. No, he’s never directed it at her — he’s probably only raised his voice to her a half-dozen times since they started dating, and even then I’m sure it didn’t last very long — and he doesn’t show it to people like me either, but I’ve heard him on conference calls and in meetings. Remember that when they lived in the city I was around them a lot more than I am now. He’s used to getting his way, and that’s why all these foreign deals going wrong has turned into an obsession that’s endangered his marriage, maybe even fatally. He will be furious, and since he won’t be able to bring himself to take it out on Kathryn — in case you’re wondering, by the way, there’s zero chance he’d lay a finger on her — he’ll turn his attention elsewhere. I don’t know how he’ll take it out on you, but you will feel it.”

“I don’t see how he can do anything but ruin my reputation, and even then he can’t do it globally. The rumors that will follow me are what might accomplish that. Still, what can I do except let him? I deserve it, after all.” A new notion occurred. “Do you think he’ll be furious enough to divorce her?”