Chapter 6: Lunch and After

On Monday Julie called.

“Want to grab lunch?” she asked. “There’s a little deli in the strip mall on Palmetto. Quiet. Good sandwiches.”

Marti said yes. They met just after noon. The deli was small, half-empty, the kind of place where the tables were close enough for low voices but far enough that no one else cared what they said. Outside, the South Carolina heat shimmered on the parking lot.

They talked about the cookout first—who had been there, how strange and not-strange it had felt to see Larry and Marge, Conrad and Jackie. Then Marti set her fork down.

“I didn’t expect the women,” she said. “With each other. I saw it more than once. I ... participated. I didn’t know that was part of it.”

Julie nodded, unbothered. “It isn’t always. Some couples never do. Some do it every time. Bill and I were hesitant at first. The first time another woman went down on me I almost stopped her. Then I didn’t. I came so hard I couldn’t think. After that I wanted to know what she tasted like. I liked it. I still do.”

Marti felt her face warm. She looked at her plate. “I liked it more than I thought I would.”

“Most of us do, once we try it.” Julie smiled. “Come back to the house with me. We’ll have coffee. Bill’s at work until later. We can keep talking.”

Marti followed her.

The Henderson house was quiet when they walked in. Julie made coffee. They sat on the couch and talked for nearly an hour—rules they had already broken, rules they might still want, how it felt to watch your husband with someone else and discover you liked the watching. Julie’s knee rested against Marti’s. Then her hand settled on Marti’s thigh, light at first, then a slow stroke upward.