Heavy Traffic
Chapter 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, Heterosexual,

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - When he finds his wife with another woman, Jack should be living every man's fantasy. But, it's another complication in a marriage that's already too complicated.

Jack's heavy sigh was surprisingly loud in the confines of his car. He realized it was the first sound either he or his wife had made since driving away from the Water Club.

"Are you angry?"

Jack craned his neck to look as far up the Garden State Parkway as he could. It was a single, gleaming line of cars to the horizon. He sighed again, "Can't get mad about traffic on Memorial Day."

Fiona gave a sharp shake of her head, "Not about that ... obviously."

In the word "obviously," Jack could hear the echo of "deliberately obtuse." It was one of Fiona's favorite accusations to level at him. It wasn't true anywhere nearly as often as she thought it was.

He positioned his car behind a blue minivan with Connecticut plates and moved his foot to the brake. Strangely, he hadn't been thinking about the events of the night before. He hadn't even been thinking about the deposit slip, nestled in his shirt pocket behind his phone. Trying to think about either thing had been overwhelming. He'd retreated into focusing entirely on the mechanical task of driving.

Every word they'd said to each other this morning had been in the service of getting their luggage packed and into the car and the other necessities of checking out of a hotel. Over breakfast, Fiona had struck up a conversation with their waitress, but not spoken much to Jack. Not wanting to air their personal lives to the restaurant staff, he'd brought out his Blackberry and spent the meal checking mail.

Still, the question had taken him by surprise. He now realized he'd expected the subject to wait until they got home, a time that was now looking to come much later than he'd hoped.

"It wouldn't have occurred to me to be angry," Jack said honestly. "I am a man after all." He frowned, "Should I be angry?"

That got him an uncertain smile, "You'd be surprised."

"By what?"

Fiona fell silent long enough for the traffic to move forward a car's length. Eventually, she said, "The reality isn't like the fantasy, Is it?"

Jack wondered what sort of fantasy his wife had in mind. He would have considered his own imagination fairly rich. The image of his wife, her back arched, head on his shoulder, strawberry-blond hair cascading down his back, moaning in his ear and clawing at his neck and shoulder certainly mimicked a lot of fantasies he'd had.

True, he'd never combined the fantasies of Fiona losing herself to the throes of passion with the ones where he got to be with two beautiful women at once. But, that had been because it just seemed so unlikely. Fiona had been forthright about her own desires and never given a hint that they had included other women.

He wasn't about to explain that, though, "I'm not angry."

"Okay." Fiona turned to look at him. "On a scale of 'angry' to 'thrilled to pieces, ' where do you fall then?"

"Confused," Jack answered immediately. The traffic started to move, sluggish and fitful, but enough that he had to watch the road. "Nervous. I don't know the protocol for this sort of thing. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do or say. I am, however, pretty sure that it would be impolitic to admit to being 'thrilled to pieces.'"

"Maybe being impolitic is the protocol," Fiona offered. "I want to know what you're thinking, Jack. I have no idea what's going on in your head right now. You say you're not angry, but you're not thrilled. Are you ... moderately happy, vaguely disappointed, or blase and indifferent? You're playing your cards so close to your chest, I can't begin to guess."

Jack frowned and shook his head. Once, he might have fallen into the trap of telling Fiona the answer to anything she asked. But, she didn't always want to know the answers to the questions she posed. Taking her at her word could lead to tears, recriminations, and bitter arguments. Their marriage had suffered enough from answers incautiously given. Besides, he had no answer. How was he supposed to feel?

He settled on, "I'm confused."

Fiona sighed and pushed her hair back away from her face. Even in a light summer dress, with the air conditioner wheezing to keep up, a hint of sweat gleamed on her chest and arms, "What are you confused about specifically?"

"About what happened last night." Jack stared at the blue minivan as if he could force it to drive faster with his mind. "Not the part I was there for. I've got that all clear in my mind and suspect it will be there to warm me in my old age. But, what was going on in your head? Was I even supposed to be there?"

"Of course." Fiona's words came out a shade too quickly. "I mean, I think so. Certainly from my perspective you were." She took a deep breath, "I knew you were coming back any minute. I thought you'd be there when we came upstairs. Myrcee wanted to meet you. I thought..." Her voice trailed off, "I thought we were just two old friends reminiscing about the past. I mean, it occurred to me that she might be interested in getting us into bed, but I didn't know..." She shook her head, "She kissed me right before I heard your key in the door. I didn't think she would do that."

Jack grunted. The blue minivan's tail lights came on. He hadn't noticed the long wave of cars braking in front of it right away. For a while, there was no sound in the car except the air conditioning. He prayed it would hold out. He had an eerie sense that losing air conditioning on this trip could end his marriage.

"What would have happened if I'd decided to stop and grab something to eat before I came up?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know." Fiona lowered her head. "There wasn't time for a single conscious thought between the kiss and the key."

"So, I might have walked in on you two..."

Fiona shook her head, still not looking at him. "I think I would have stopped it. Myrcee..." She took a deep breath, "Myrcee's view of men has always been a bit ... simplistic. I don't think she believes a man could react badly to finding his wife in bed with another woman."

The statement hung in the space between them. Jack considered it until the silence became oppressive and he wanted to lean on the horn or turn on the radio, anything to shatter the quiet.

"You talk about her as if you know her pretty well."

Fiona nodded, "I did."

"She's the one you experimented with?" Jack asked. "The one with whom it ended badly?"

Fiona seemed to stop breathing. Jack could almost hear her slicing some large truth into pieces small enough to fit in her mouth.

"We have a history. It was unfair of me to call it 'experimenting.'" She shook her head, "We were together almost two years. But, yes ... it ended badly."

The statement was still too big for Jack to take in all at once. It required him to unwrap the tightly-bound package of ideas marked "Fiona," consider each one, and decided which to bundle back up. He'd fallen in love with his wife in no small part because she was so frank about what she liked and wanted when they were alone. People who knew her only casually could believe her nearly asexual. She was so reserved and put-together that it could be hard to imagine her as anything else.

If Jack had met her somewhere other than the beach, he might have made the same mistake. She wore her everyday clothing like it was armor, but the first time he'd seen her, she'd been sleek and slick and nearly naked. Later, she would admit that it had been a moment of profound loneliness and a need to make any sort of human contact that had sent her outside so exposed.

By their first date, she was back in her armor, but Jack had fallen for the girl on the beach and would not be deterred from pursuit.

He watched Fiona out of the corner of his eye. The dress she wore today, light green with a daisy pattern, wouldn't look out of place at a church picnic. But, it was still one of his favorites. Bare limbs and more bare flesh beneath a thin layer of cotton were daring in public.

He hadn't commented when she put it on. He'd been too preoccupied.

"Did you wear that for me?"

Fiona looked down as if she'd forgotten what she had on, "I wore it because we were going to be driving through an oven." A faint smile parted her lips, "But, I packed it for you ... Is it still your favorite?"

Jack nodded, relief coursing through him, "It is."

The relief took him by surprise. Certainly, nothing was resolved between them. But he recognized the woman in the car with him now. She was still his wife, not some unfathomable, exotic creature.

Around the car, the Pine Barrens rose. Jack had grown up near here. As a boy, he'd once wandered too far into the pines and been lost. He'd found his way to a road shortly after night had fallen, but he'd never forgotten the feeling that he might never emerge. At eleven, he hadn't thought of starvation, dehydration, or animal attacks. He'd imagined himself growing to adulthood as some kind of reclusive forest-dweller.

Ever since then, when he walked too far into the woods, he would have a moment of fear as he lost track of landmarks and couldn't say exactly where he was. He'd moved to New York as soon as he could and not wandered the woods in years.

Just over the next rise would be the sign for the exit that led to his parents' house, the one he'd grown up in. He'd toyed with the idea of showing Fiona the place where the house had stood. It would have been a nice diversion, a chance to let the traffic peter out before they continued on their way. He knew now that he wouldn't suggest it today. Such a gesture would be fraught with unintended meaning.

It was probably a 7-11 or an auto body shop now anyway. Jack had never really thought about it. If he imagined going back, it was to a dead, black scar on green grass. The last time he'd seen the place, it had still been steaming in the summer sun, but he knew that the last embers would have long since been extinguished.

"So, what was that last night?" he asked finally, choosing to focus on the here-and-now. "An impulsive, one-time recapturing of lost youth? The beginning of something new? A going-away present?"

Fiona jerked forward so quickly that her shoulder-belt snapped into place as if she'd been in a collision, "Why would you even ask that?"

Jack scowled, "Because I have no idea what to make of it. I was literally gobsmacked."


Jack shook his head and had to chuckle. He'd walked into one of his own pet peeves, "All right. I wasn't technically hit in the face with anything. But, I don't think I could have been more surprised."

Fiona gave him a sidelong glance, "That wasn't what this whole weekend was. Is it? A going-away present?"

Jack shook his head, "No, of course not. Why would you even ask that?"

"You've been so ... solicitous," Fiona said. "The ... gorgeous room, the spa treatment, that incredible dinner." Her hand went to the string of pearls at her throat, "The unexpected presents. I ... felt like I was being courted. I didn't know what to make of it."

Jack shook his head again, "The point of this weekend was to take an opportunity to make things better between us. We haven't had a lot of time to ourselves and it's hurt us." He sighed, "I would have liked to have a weekend where we could just relax and spend time with each other, but ... I saw an opportunity to get some time together and decided to take it. The presents were sort of an apology for my having to spend half our vacation playing poker."

Fiona stroked the pearls thoughtfully. Jack thought she would finally ask him the question that would let him give her the news that had been on the tip of his tongue when he'd walked in and found her in an odd tete-a-tete with another woman.

Instead, she asked, "You've never imagined me with another woman?"

Jack shook his head, "Literally, I don't think you could have surprised me more if I'd walked in and you'd told me ... you'd signed a contract to pitch for the Red Sox."

Fiona wrinkled her nose in a quirky smile, "I'd rather pitch for the Yankees."

"The point is that I don't think I've seen you touch a baseball or bat in the whole time I've known you."

"So," Fiona sat back. "It wasn't some dig about playing for the wrong team?"

It took Jack a second to even make the connection his wife had. His laugh came out as a bark, God, no. That wasn't what I meant at all."

"And you really, never, ever imagined me ... playing for the Red Sox?" She watched him carefully, "Why not?"

"You've always been so vocal about what you wanted," said Jack. "At least in the beginning. I never had to guess what you would be into, never had to fumble or ask. I thought you'd told me everything. You admitted kinks that you could barely choke out in a whisper and were flushed red as a beet by the time you were done. When you said you'd experimented and didn't want to talk about it, I assumed the experiment had been so unpleasant that it would be painful to talk about." He turned to look at her, "You gave me enough fantasy material that I don't need to go looking for themes when I imagine having my evil way with you."

The speech wasn't one he would have given his wife even yesterday. When they'd been engaged, they had talked like that often, seemingly whenever they were alone. Over the last few years, private time had been more like public, where she stayed vigilant and defended.

"I did experiment ... at first. Everything was an experiment at that point. Nothing was ever meant to last." Fiona looked thoughtful, "I never saw anyone for more than a few months, considered myself too avant-garde for something as mundane as a relationship. You know this part already."

"You've talked about it."

"I was with Cliff for almost six months. I don't know why he stuck around so long. It just sort of happened ... He was so non-judgmental. I felt safe exploring with him, stuff I'd been afraid other people would laugh at. He never complained, never made fun of me, never refused to do anything I asked. Afterwards, a couple of times, he would say to me, "I don't think that is going to be my new favorite thing." That was the closest he came to disapproval.

"And eventually you invited another woman to bed."

Fiona shook her head, "We invited other women to bed from the very beginning. But, they never stayed. Everybody was experimenting. Myrcee stuck around, though. Even after Cliff faded out of my life, she stuck around. Junior and senior year, we were roommates and pretty inseparable."

"How did it end?" Jack found himself caught up in the narrative.

"We graduated. She wanted to go be a painter in Prague. I wanted to start living my real life. I ... wasn't a lesbian. I really liked Myrcee, but what we had wasn't a relationship. It survived in college the way some flowers can only live in a greenhouse. I thought Myrcee felt the same way. When she turned on me ... I was, as you say, gobsmacked."


"Actually, yes ... in front of my parents at graduation ... right after she outed me. It was ... awkward."

"I can imagine."

Fiona laughed and pushed her hair back, "The worst part was my parents. Of all the things I'd done, Myrcee picked the one particular perversion that wouldn't horrify them. They were so supportive that I started to feel bad about not wanting to be a lesbian for the rest of my life."

Jack chuckled, "That does explain a lot of things about how they reacted to me. I used to think they didn't like me."

"The first time they met you, my mother tried to convince me not to 'lead you on' because I was only going to break your heart. They were still pretty relieved after the wedding, though."

Jack drove on in silence, but the traffic barely moved and he had no excuse to concentrate on anything other than the conversation, "What I don't understand is why we never talked about this before. I thought you'd told me everything. I don't think I've ever judged you for anything. Why didn't you trust me with this?"

Fiona shook her head, "It wasn't about trust. I ... didn't see anyone between Myrcee and you. It was three years of self-imposed celibacy when I'd never gone more than three weeks. I knew I needed to get my head straightened out before I made decisions that would shape my whole life. I hadn't really decided I was ready to start dating when I met you. But, I just fell hopelessly in love."

Traffic picked up fractionally while Jack digested what he'd been told. When they passed a sign that read "Rest Area, 4 Miles," she asked quietly, "Do you think we could stop for lunch?"

"Sounds good."

Fifteen minutes later, they passed a sign that read "Rest Area, 2 Miles." The math was not encouraging.

"I didn't want to talk about it because it would raise a lot of questions that I didn't know the answer to. I was afraid it would make things bad between us."

Jack sighed, "Things are getting bad anyway."

"I know. I'm sorry." A tear slid down Fiona's cheek.

"Not your fault..." Jack responded immediately. "Unless they went bad because you secretly want to leave me and go tracking around Europe with your ex-girlfriend."

Fiona shook her head, "Europe sounds nice. But, Myrcee ... She hasn't changed much since college and she was never relationship material."

"Someone else, then?"

That got another head shake, "I've been thinking more and more on ... the idea of a woman, but only in the abstract." She sighed, "I may have occasional, inappropriate thoughts about equally inappropriate people, but nothing I would act on." Tears flowed more freely now, "I don't want to lose you, Jack."

Jack nodded, unable to answer. The exit lane for the rest area had been almost empty, but the parking lot was chaotic. When he got out of the car, the heat hit him like a solid object. A breeze blew hard, but brought only more hot air and a faint scent of rain.

He met Fiona coming out of the other side. As she stood, his arms wrapped around her, lifting her feet off the ground. She gave a surprised gasp and hugged him tightly.

"So, do you still have a job?"

Jack nodded and slid his Blackberry back in his pocket, "I do. I should have told you at breakfast. Alan actually e-mailed me and wished me luck."

He let the statement hang there, expecting Fiona to finally ask about the tournament. The deposit receipt had gotten damp in his pocket, waiting for the big reveal. But, he didn't want to move it.

Fiona placed her tray on the table, sat down and leaned forward, "This is what I imagine it looks like when they start digging out after an earthquake."

Jack looked at the chaos around them. The central hall was a snarl of people, the bathroom lines intermingling in the middle, making a confused knot. Every restaurant had its own queue. Around them, only half the formica-and-plastic tables were occupied, but most of the rest were either unbussed or just plain dirty. Muddy footprints were everywhere and the men's room had been distinctly unpleasant. Whatever effort was being made to keep things clean wasn't close to enough.

"It does look like a refugee center in here. Doesn't it?"

Fiona smiled, a small, private sharing in the midst of a roiling crowd.

Jack stroked the folded-over receipt in his pocket and considered blurting out his news, but there was no privacy here. There hadn't been any real privacy since he'd gone back to his room and found Fiona and Myrcee, his wife nervous and hyperactive, the stranger seeming more amused than anything else.

He wanted to tell her, had to tell her before it started to look like he was hiding it. But, he couldn't do it here with strangers streaming around them.

He'd gotten back just past midnight excited, exhausted and ready to celebrate all at once. It should have been the perfect capstone for a trip that had gone much better than he'd expected. Three days away from work and chores and the phalanx of minor annoyances that every day seemed to throw at them had worked wonders.

He'd hoped that getting away might give them a chance for sex, but not really expected it. Their love life had trailed off over the last few years. They had both taken on more responsibilities at work, but be couldn't say which state had caused the other.

The first night, he'd been tired, but willing. Fiona had emerged from the shower, relaxed and happy. She'd curled up against him on the bed, her head on his chest. Instead of going to sleep, they'd laid like that for hours, talking about nothing in particular. Aimless, meandering conversation was as much of a luxury as sex these days. Weekends were too short and weekdays started and ended too soon. They both came home from work tired most nights. By the time dinner was done, it was nearly time to sleep. Conversation was a finite resource, doled out in measured doses.

While he played poker the first day, Fiona had lounged by the pool, sometimes reading, sometimes doing nothing at all. Jack had come back to the room the second night too wound up to even lie down. Fiona had been relaxed and sleepy. She'd dozed off before anything could happen and he'd gone down to the casino floor to gamble off the jangly energy he'd acquired.

After the tournament, he'd been both tired and wound up, but now he felt like a conquering hero, eager to celebrate. Fiona met him at the door in her royal, blue bikini top and a red sarong wrapped around her waist. He'd lifted her off the floor, arms around her waist. She'd shrieked his name and there'd been something in its tenor that made him look around the room.

"And who's this?" He hadn't let go of Fiona's waist.

Myrcee had crossed the room, hand extended to shake. Even as he'd taken her hand, he'd registered that something was going on. The air seemed to be redolent with pheromones he couldn't quite smell. Myrcee stood just a little too close behind Fiona, one hand resting on her back, "Myrcee. Fiona and I were ... roommates in college."

He'd looked to Fiona for confirmation. Instead of saying anything, she'd kissed him, slowly and deeply. Jack had looked up, sure there must be some other explanation for this meeting than the one that immediately sprang to mind and instead found Myrcee kissing the crook of his wife's neck, her hand tracing across his ribs to his back.

Myrcee had looked up at him, locking eyes. The look might have been meant to be alluring, but it didn't hide the predator or the challenge. As clearly as if she'd used words, the look said that Myrcee might be willing to share, but if Jack wasn't, she could take Fiona away from him.

And then Fiona had guided his hand past her own waist around Myrcee's. Like his wife, the other woman was still dressed for the pool. His fingers traced across bare skin.

"It's ... nice to meet you," he'd managed to say. At the time, it had seemed clever.

Clothes had come off, then. From the very first moment, Jack had been aware that whole chapter's of Fiona's life, hitherto unknown to him, were unfolded in that space. He wanted to know what it all meant, but he simply wanted, too. Beautiful flesh, dark and pale, voluptuous and slender, familiar and exotic had been everywhere and his wife, far from disapproving, had guided him to touch, to stroke, and to kiss.

Sometimes, it had felt like Myrcee was a gift that Fiona was offering to him, sometimes that he was the gift, sometimes that the two women were there for each other and he was incidental. Jack knew that he didn't understand much of what was going on, but he wasn't about to argue.

Afterwards, Fiona had lain between them, snoring softly. Jack had fallen asleep, holding her. He'd woken to see Myrcee outlined against the sunrise, sliding her jeans back on.

"I've got to go," she'd said. "Tell her, once I get back to New York, I'll look you two up."

Jack had nodded uneasily, "All right."

He'd fallen back asleep and woken to realize that neither of them had bothered to arrange for a wake-up call. Packing had been done in a frenzy and they'd still checked out late.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Fa/Fa / Consensual / Lesbian / Heterosexual /