Chapter 3

Ever since I spent the night at Trish and Gary’s house, when Jim Correy invaded my bed, Darrell and I understood that he would take care of me the way any ordinary man would take care of his wife. It had nothing to do with my experience with Jim, that experience was a tightly guarded secret that I had not shared with Darrell. But it was the catalyst for our understanding, which had been working well for a couple of months after the situation occurred. And, except for Darrell providing me with cunnilingus, I must admit that he had been doing a good job of it. Orgasms were happening regularly during our sex and we now both enjoyed the benefits of fellatio. There were times of course that though he never turned me down when I needed sex, I sensed something deceptive about it as if he were going about, it as a labor of love rather than totally investing himself. Though I reluctantly understood his revulsion about eating my pussy it left our sexual play incomplete versus what I had experienced with Jim. And, while viewing my acceptance of it as a mark of my love for my husband I often masturbated with memories of Jim performing cunnilingus on me the way he did that night. I longed for Darrell to have a change of heart and surprise me by going down on but it gave me the feeling that Darrell thought of my vagina as too dirty to put his mouth on.

When I began having dreams of Jim Correy doing exactly that, the surrealism of those dreams seemed even more fantastic than when he had gone down on me for real. In addition to that, whenever I saw an attractive elderly man coming my way on the street, I fantasized about him, going down on me. I knew I was fortunate enough to have a husband in Darrell who, absent cunnilingus, was taking care of me quite well. Nonetheless, I was obsessed with what I missed.

I was having lunch with Trish one day when I asked, “How is Jim doing?’ It struck me odd that Trish’s eyes lit up like she was carrying exciting news. The memory of having coffee with her the morning, after Jim invaded my bed, kindled my ongoing thought that Trish might have been the one to encourage her father to do it.

“He asks me about you all the time, Brenda.” She shrugged her shoulders, chuckled, and rolled her eyes. “ I think he has a crush on you, heh, heh, heh.”

“TRISH,” I said more emphatically than I expected it to come out. “He’s old. And I’m married.”

“He’s only seventy-two, Bren, and you have to admit he’s cuter than hell.”

Offensively on the defense, I said to her, “Sounds to me like you have had thoughts of your father yourself, Trish.”

“BREN,” she said as she blushed then settled back and added, “I think every normal woman would.” Brushing a strand of hair back she stared deeply into my eyes and said, “Did I do the wrong thing, Bren?”

She DID set me up. I could feel the heat in my head and face and I knew I was as red as a thermometer bulb. Getting up to leave I said, “How could you have DONE such a thing to Darrell?”

“How could YOU, Brenda?’

“He SEDUCED me, Trish ... in my bed. You were wrong to do that, WRONG.”

Trish grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. “Don’t be foolish, Bren. You were dying on the vine. Darrell’s a great guy but he’s a cold fish. For a while, I thought you just accepted that he always took you for granted. Since that night with you and Daddy though he seems to be more attentive. Did Daddy help?”

I wanted to say, “Darrell’s a cold fish, but he is MY cold fish,” but I knew it would be stupid. The long and the short of it was that our sex life had become more exciting since that night. “He WAS the answer,” I said.

“But you couldn’t forget about Daddy, right?” Giving me a look I couldn’t read she said, “I understand.”

A lightbulb went off in my head, Can she and her father be... But I couldn’t carry the thought forward, Nah. I noticed a flippant look on Trish’s face. Or is it a look of secrecy?

“So,” she said, “Would you like me to give Daddy your cell number?” Or would it be safer for you to call him?”

“Not only should you forget about your father and me, Trish, you should just back off.” My head was spinning. I knew I should be furious but all I could think of was that lovely man, his head between my legs licking me to orgasm after orgasm. “I’ve got to go, Trish. This is too much for me to deal with.”

“You should take this though, Bren,” she said, holding out the folded piece of paper.

Sitting in my car with my head in my hands, and tears welling in my eyes, I said, “Damn, Damn, DAMN,” pounding on the steering wheel. Realizing that my nipples tingled and I was wet between my legs I tried to settle myself but found my hand playing in the mushy pudding between my legs. Coming down from an orgasm I reached into my purse and took out a Kleenex to dry my hand. In my left hand, I palmed the folded paper that Trish had given me. Opening it I saw Jim Correy 949-555-2211 written in pencil.

Later that day when Darrell came through the door, I greeted him with a passionate kiss. Zipping him down I pulled out his flaccid penis that I quickly stroked to an erection, then took him into my mouth.

“Jesus, Bren,” he said, “What’s gotten into you?”

I wanted to answer, “Jim Correy,” but didn’t. Jim Correy had gotten into my mind in a way that I needed Darrell to take care of. But all I could do was hope.

It was ten o’clock in the morning the next day when I looked at the paper again. Darrell told me he would be burning the midnight oil again that night. I dialed Jim’s number.

“Hello, Brenda,” came Jim’s rich voice. “I was expecting you to call.”

“Today?”

“Not necessarily, Bren. But I expected you to call eventually. If you hadn’t called before long, I would have been calling you.”

“So,” I said, “Trish, gave you, my number?”

“Are you angry?”

“No, it’s good to hear your voice, Jim.” I chuckled in frustration. “But I’m more confused now than before I called you.”

“Well, suffice it to say, Brenda, the Correy family has always walked to the beat of a different drummer.”

I wanted to ask him to explain what he meant but was afraid that his answer might have confused me more. Though I hadn’t been convinced that Trish had conspired with Jim to climb into bed with me, I could no longer doubt that she was involved in it. Since then, a fence that had never been there now existed between Trish and me. Something between my anger at Trish for the possibility and gratitude for what it had awakened in me made me reluctant to be with her as often as I had before and I wondered, What kind of conversation would Trish and her dad have that caused her to do that?

“But I’ve been thinking about you since then, Jim?”

“Really? Thinking about me a lot or a little?”

“At first a lot. And then only a little as Darrell’s and my, um, relationship improved. Obviously, I have been thinking enough about you to call though.”

“I’m pleased that you have, Bren.” There was an uncomfortable pause. “I can only assume that whatever you stimulated in Darren since that night might have been different?”

“Yes. It has been different, Jim. “ I wrinkled my brow and raised my eyelids. “At first, it was almost like our first days of marriage. But...”

“But Darren’s total commitment to his career has erased his commitment to satisfying you in bed?”

Feeling relieved at Jim’s understanding I said, “Yes. He doesn’t even come home for dinner most evenings. And I’m...”

“Climbing the walls?”

“Um ... Yes.”

After a brief pause, Jim said, “The traffic isn’t bad on the 5 Fwy and it’s only forty-two minutes to San Clemente.”

My tummy sank as I realized what he might be suggesting. I was working remotely after Covid, going to the office only two days a week. I knew that any work I missed in my accounting work could be made up at any time. I was alone and could justify any absence of a few hours from my computer. Realizing that my breasts tingled and I felt moisture seeping between my labia, I said, “Forty-two minutes is a long time, Jim. I shouldn’t take time away from work like that. Besides, I’m not sure what kind of commitment that might go awry if I were to come to your house.”

His response was instant, “There is an Ayres Hotel at the 5 freeway and El Toro Road, Bren. It will take about twenty minutes to get there from where you live in Huntington Beach. How soon can you be there?”

I kept up with traffic at going eighty but the speed limit was seventy and I feared being pulled over by the CHP (California Highway Patrol). I kept telling myself that I shouldn’t be doing this to my husband but thought, You sonofabitch, Darrell, you promised that you would take care of me and here I am again going to the man that started it. I’m glad I’m doing it though.

The intensity of my racing libido had me on the verge of hyperventilating. Just as I saw the El Toro Rd. off-ramp sign my text screen came on that said, “I’m here in our room. When you pull into the parking lot park at the far end of the building on the right text me and I will come and get you, you need not go through the lobby.” I so appreciated his concern for my anonymity.

Because three cars were parked in spaces close to the end of the building I pulled into the fourth space, then I texted. He replied “OK,” and within twenty seconds I saw him come around the end of the building walking toward me. While I had been with him at Trish’s house that night, I never saw much of his features because it was dark. I was impressed that at seventy-two his body was remarkably hard. But as he walked toward me at the Ayres Hotel, I reaffirmed how handsome he was and how straight and forceful was his gait. That he was coming to get me to take me to a hotel room made me relive masturbatorial fantasy moments about him and my stomach dropped at the thought of his tongue touching my “clitoris, which it had so many times that night.

As I walked toward him his posture and facial demeanor told me, “Let’s get a move on and get out of public view,” even though at that time of day at that end of the building there was no one to see us. We greeted each other as we walked to the emergency exit door. Jim released the lock with his plastic room key and the door clicked open. Our room was only ten feet down the hall on the right. If we need to get away fast, I thought, we don’t have far to go to escape.

Jim held the door open for me and followed me in. By the time the door had closed, we were locked in an embrace, kissing, and fondling like long-lost lovers. In a remarkably short time, our tongues had rediscovered the insides of each other’s mouths in such an intense way that saliva sagged down both chins. In a tight embrace, our pubic bones pushed against each other’s and I could feel his penis rising to a bulge. Sliding his hands easily down my back he clutched my bottom and pulled me tight. Then, leaning back, he looked into my eyes, and said, “You looked like a naughty girl walking toward me in the parking lot, Bren.” He laughed. “A naughty girl who flipped a switch between this old man’s legs, as you can feel.”