By the way Kendra was picking at her dinner, I was pretty sure I was finally going to find out what had been bothering her for the last couple of weeks. I tried talking to her a few days prior but when I inquired about her sudden change in mood she told me she simply had something on her mind with no further explanation.

That’s not totally out of character for her. Kendra’s a registered nurse and a hospital is not the most uplifting place to work. I’ve seen her come home running the gambit of human emotions; sadness, anger, frustration, fear, joy, you name it. Sometimes it helps her to talk about it, sometimes she just buries it deep within. In twenty-one years of marriage, if I’ve learned anything it was to let her make the decision as to if and when she wanted to get it off her chest ... whatever it was.

I had finished my dinner and asked if she was done. She set her fork down on the plate and just nodded. I was scraping all her wasted food into the garbage disposal when she finally spoke.

“Darin, there’s something I have to talk to you about. Can we go out on the patio, maybe open a bottle of wine?”

“Sure, hon. Why don’t you go ahead. I’ll stick these in the dishwasher and bring the wine out in a couple of minutes.”

She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek with a half-smile, then walked out the glass sliding doors to the patio. Something was telling me that whatever was on her mind had nothing to do with work, it seemed more personal all of a sudden.

Of course, with having a wife in the medical trade, my first thought was of her health, was she going to tell me she’s sick? I tried to prepare myself as I opened the wine. I joined her outside, set the two glasses of wine on the patio table then took a seat next to her. I reached over and took her hand in mine. My heart was pounding so loud I’m surprised she couldn’t hear it as she gently squeezed my fingers.

With a sigh to prepare myself for bad news, I barely got the question out. “What is it, honey? Are you sick?”

“Sick ... no, what gave you that idea?” she stated reassuringly.

“The way you’ve been acting lately. Honey, it’s like you’ve been on another planet for the last two weeks. When you kissed me in the kitchen a few minutes ago I got the feeling you were going to tell me something terrible.”

“No,” she scoffed. “It’s ... well, I don’t think you’re going to like what I’m going to say but it’s nothing that bad.”

“Okay, lay it on me. What am I not going to like?”

She reached over for her glass and took a sip of wine—I supposed she needed a little liquid courage. “I’ve been selected to take part in a medical study. It’s a clinical trial for a new drug.”

I was confused. If she wasn’t sick why was she testing a new drug? “What kind of drug?”

“Well, it’s called, Beuticimiacin. It’s a hormonal drug designed to help women with menopause symptoms.”

“Honey, are you going into menopause already?” I was getting scared. I’d heard all about the horrific terror of living with a woman who was going through the change and I was hoping for more time before it happened to us.

“No,” she replied. “It ... ah ... it turns out that the drug has an unexpected side effect, it...” she hesitated again. “It appears to make intercourse much more enjoyable for a woman.”

Okay, this was starting to sound exciting. “So, what’s wrong with that? Sounds like fun. So you’ll be screaming your head off in ecstasy the next time we make love?” I said with a lecherous grin.

“Well, ah honey, that’s not how these trials work. Everything has to be observed and recorded under strict controls.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. “Observed ... you mean we’re going to have people watching us?”

Kendra took a deep breath then reached over for more liquid courage. “Not exactly, honey. In fact you and I won’t be able to make love for three months. I...”

“Hold it,” I interrupted. “This is starting to sound like a load of crap. What the hell do you mean we can’t make love for three months?”

“Honey, the study is being done at the Southwest Medical facility down town. I’ll be going down there three times a week after work. Nobody stands and watches us but I did have to sign a video consent form so I assume everything is taped so physical reactions can be monitored as well as heartbeat, blood pressure, things like that. To keep everything accurate, I’m not allow to have sex anywhere but the medical center and only during the trials.”

I was starting to get the gist and I wasn’t liking it one little bit. “And just who the hell would you be having sex with?” I snarled.

“One of the male volunteers,” she answered with a nervous tremor in her voice.

“And what—I’m just supposed to settle for blow jobs for the next three months while you’re screwing a bunch of other guys?”

“No, I’m sorry, honey. I can’t even do that. We can’t have any sexual contact outside the study.”

“No—uh ah, no way! You’re not breaking our marriage vows for some stupid study!”

“Honey, don’t be silly. I’m not breaking my vows.”

“Really? I seem to remember something in there about forsaking all others.”

“Yes, and that refers to having a sexual relationship with someone other than your spouse. Honey, it’s not like I’ll be making love to them or anything like that. It’s a clinical study for crying out loud.”

“I don’t care what you call it, the end result is you having sex three times a week with other men, the answer is no, emphatically NO!”

“Honey, there is no, no. I’ve been selected and...”

“What do mean there is no, no—selected by who? What--God reached down from heaven and touched you on the shoulder? Who selected you?”

“Honey, please don’t be sarcastic. The people who are running the study selected me. It’s an independent research group that was hired by the drug manufacturer. They do this kind of thing all the time, Darin. Everything’s on the up and up, I swear.”

“How did they select you? What’d they do, pull your name out of a hat?”

“Nooo,” she derisively sang. “I heard about it at the hospital. I looked into it and thought it was a worthwhile cause so I filled out an application.”

“So, they didn’t select you, you volunteered.”

“No; there’s all kinds of criteria involved. I went through two interviews. They’re looking for people with certain characteristics and backgrounds so they get a well-rounded study; age, health, sexual history, how many times they normally have sex, things like that. They only selected the people who met their requirements.”

“And you were one of the lucky ones; good for you,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could possibly muster. “Who are the men you’d be having sex with?”

“I don’t know, honey. The men are selected just like the women. I’m sure there’s a range of compatibility issues the researchers are looking for.”

I thought, yeah, like an eight inch cock but I didn’t want to sound insecure so I let the comment slide.

“And of course everyone gets a complete physical to make sure no one has any STDs,” she added.

“Honey, I honestly don’t know what the big deal is,” she continued. “I work with naked men every day at the hospital. When we’re short of candy stripers I sometimes have to give them sponge baths, I insert catheters, I sometimes have to wipe their ass for them for Pete’s sake; this is no different.”

“The hell it’s not. Sticking a straw up some guy’s dick is a whole lot different than him sticking his dick in you. Have you ever slept with one of your patients?”

“No, of course not.”

“There you are!” I said with conviction. By that time my heart was pounding, my blood pressure was out of sight, and every muscle in my body was tight as a drum. I couldn’t stay seated so I got up and started pacing back and forth in front of our chairs. I just couldn’t understand how she could even consider such a thing. In all our years together she’d never come up with anything like this before.

“Why now?” I asked.

That seemed to catch her off guard. I could tell she’d been anticipating my argument but that question escaped her queue and she wasn’t ready for it.

“What? What do you mean why now?”

“You said you heard about this at the hospital. You’ve worked there for sixteen years. This can’t be the first time you’ve heard of some medical study but you’ve never signed up for anything before; why now?”

“Ah, well with both boys in college now I have more time.”

We had two sons. Chad was twenty and had been going to college for the last two years. Doug was eighteen and had just left for his first year the month before.

“So this is about an empty nest syndrome?” I asked.

“No, there’s no ‘syndrome’ involved. It’s just that I have more free time to do things, that’s all.”

“I see; and you figured you’d use your free time to stab your husband in the heart, cut him off in the bedroom, and go have sex with other guys. I can’t believe you’d volunteer for something like this without even discussing it with me.”

“I didn’t vol...”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit, you didn’t volunteer. They couldn’t have SELECTED you if you hadn’t volunteered in the first place,” I said with anger. “Well you can just give them a call and tell them to UNSELECT you tomorrow morning.”

I saw I wasn’t the only one with moist eyes. She was at least starting to show some emotion. It looked like regret to me. I was hoping she was going to say okay but...

“I can’t do that, Darin, I signed a contract. It’s a done deal,” she said with a slight whimper.

I couldn’t believe my ears. “A contract?”

“Of course; these trails cost a lot of money, they can’t have people leaving half way through it.”

“You signed a contract without even discussing it with me first?”

“Oh stop being so damn selfish, Darin,” she said regaining her determination. “You don’t realize what this could mean to millions of women who don’t enjoy sex with their partners. Imagine what this drug could do for them if it works like it supposed to. It might even cut down on the number of divorces.”

“Then again, it may just cause a few,” I said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What it means is; you have hurt me worse than any person ever has. You’ve stuck a dagger in my heart. You’ve already badly damaged a relationship that I thought was a pretty good one. What it means is, if you go ahead with this I don’t think I’ll be able to live with the hurt day after day.”

I’m not real good at reading people’s faces like some, but at that moment I could sure read hears. She was worried.

“Darin, please ... I’m not trying to hurt you. It’s not like I’m going out and cheating on you.”

“You’re cutting me off for three months while you go have sex with other men and I’m not supposed to feel hurt?” I could see that my comment got through to her.

“If this drug is a success, how long before it goes on the market?”

“Ah, I don’t know--a while. This is just the first study. They’ll have to have several more before going to the FDA. Then they’ll probably sit on it for a couple of years.”

“And what happens in the mean time?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, after three months of having this hyper sex with other men, you won’t be able to get the drug anymore. You won’t be able to experience all that incredible sex anymore. It’ll be the same old sex with me that we’ve always had. I’m not supposed to wonder about how much better the sex was with those other men? You don’t think I’ll know how disappointed you’ll be after sex with me? Drug or no drug, how am I supposed to compete after that?”

Again, it looked like I got through to her. She didn’t have a ready-made comeback for that. She just sat and stared. It got my hopes up. I might have to hire a lawyer to break that contract but at least I’d still have what was left of my marriage. It was obviously damaged but I didn’t think it was beyond repair. Maybe with some counseling---then she spoke...

“Darin, it’s not a competition. I’ve always enjoyed making love with you and will again when this is all over, I promise. I’ll make this up to you, honey. Please don’t fret about it so.”

Twice during our conversation I told her how much this trial was going to hurt me and neither time did it seem to have any effect on her decision. She had made up her mind and obviously had no regard for my feelings what so ever. At that point I was worried that my marriage would survive. Wait till the boys find out. I wondered how they’d take it.

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I wiped them away then spoke. “Well I’ll tell you right now, Kendra, I’ll be damned if you think I’m going to be celibate for the next three months and hang around here playing with myself while thinking of you having sex with other men.”

Her mind must have been in la, la land because I didn’t think she heard me right.

“That’s a good idea, honey. Why don’t you stop off after work with the guys, maybe have dinner or watch a ball game or something. It’ll keep your mind off of things. I don’t know how long the sessions are going to take, we have to fill out a questionnaire and be interviewed after each one, but I should be home by seven or eight at the latest I think. They’re all going to be the same so we’ll know for sure after tomorrow.”

There didn’t seem to be anymore to be said. Three months; it was currently mid-October. That meant it would run right through the holidays. Merry Fucking Christmas.

I figured I should probably file for divorce sooner than later. Without saying another word I left my untouched wine on the table and went into the garage. I did a lot of boxing in my youth. Of course at forty-four years of age I didn’t step into the ring anymore but I had a heavy bag hanging up out there. I used it to stay in shape mostly but sometimes when something went wrong I’d take out my frustrations by beating the crap out of it. I had my doubts on whether it would survive the night.

It was a couple hours before I went back into the house. Kendra was sitting on the couch watching TV when I walked passed on my way to the shower. By the time I got out, Kendra was in bed. I thought about sleeping in one of the boy’s rooms but I thought she might try to initiate something and turning her down might make more of an impact.

Sure enough, as soon as I climbed into bed she turned toward me and her hand went right to my cock.

“What do you say, big guy,” she cooed in my ear.

“I’m not really in the mood tonight,” I flatly stated. “I will be tomorrow night though so keep that thought in mind.”

The soft, romantic sound in her voice disappeared and was replaced with aggravation. “Darin, I told you, once the study starts we can’t have sex until it’s over. This is your last chance for three months.”

“Oh well,” I said derisively.

She turned away with a humph sounding sigh. All I could do was hope my last ditch effort took hold. Of course I wondered all night long. I may have drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for a few minutes now and then but basically I had a sleepless night.

Both Kendra and I worked days. In fact we both started at seven in the morning but I had a further commute and I also went in at six-thirty. I was the service manage at Craig’s Ford—Lincoln and I liked to have all the computers going and things ready to rock by the time the others started coming in, so even though Kendra didn’t have to get up until six, I was up at four-thirty.

I turned my alarm off before it even rang and got ready to leave. I don’t know if she was sleeping or not but I never heard a peep from her during the whole process. In one last desperate attempt, I left a short note on my pillow.

Don’t do it, Please.

I drove to work that morning with a very, very small sliver of hope.

Being a service manager is a very demanding job. Even the smoothest running shops have a constant barrage of daily fires. I’m continually dealing with warranty repair issues that the factory doesn’t want to pay for, budget problems, personnel problems, cars with mechanical troubles that have my best technicians stymied, an occasional irate customer, and a franchise owner whose only concern is the profit margin. As a result, I didn’t get a whole lot of time during the day to ponder my personal problems but I did have one thought ... Bill, my transmission specialist.

“Hey, Bill, anyway you could spare me a few minutes of your time after work; maybe a beer at Plato’s? It’s on me.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess. I won’t have too much time ... half an hour or so, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” I replied.

“Am I in trouble or something?” he asked with a worried look.

“No, no, Bill, nothing like that. I just want to talk about one of your friends, the guy who’s so good with computers.”

“Oh, okay, sure.”

I knew hacking into computer systems was illegal. I also knew it was done all the time. Hell, we had our system hacked at the dealership a couple years ago. It was just a bunch of malicious crap so the cops figured it was kids but we’ll never know because they were never caught.

Bill knew a guy who was doing it all the time, mostly for fun. Every time he heard of some new cyber security system somewhere, he considered it a challenge. Sometimes, if it was a true concern he’d notify the software company to help them plug the program’s vulnerabilities; for that he’d get paid handsomely. Other times, from what Bill has told me, he just did it for the hell of it. He never did anything, just looked around then would get out so no one even knew he was in. He just gets a kick out of it. Bill says he’s never been caught or even suspected by anyone.

One of the questions that kept nagging me during my sleepless night was, is any of this real? I mean she could’ve been making the whole thing up in order to spend time with some lover for all I knew. I’d always trusted Kendra in the past but the whole study thing was killing that trust completely. I had no idea what she was capable of anymore. I was hoping this friend of Bill’s would be able to find out if there even was such a clinical study at Southwest. Surely something like that would show up in their computer system somewhere.

Over a beer, I didn’t tell Bill about my personal problems, only that I needed his friend’s services. He looked up the guy’s number on his phone and wrote it down on a napkin for me. We finished our beer and left.

Even though we both started our jobs at seven, Kendra had better hours than I did. She worked from seven to three-thirty. The hospital was only fifteen minutes from the house so she was usually home around four. I, on the other hand, worked till five. By the time I finished the day’s paper work and locked up the tool room, then made the thirty minute commute, I’d usually get home between six and six-thirty. In spite of stopping for a quick drink with Bill, my ETA was about the same.

Would she be there when I got home? That was the sixty-four dollar question I kept asking myself while driving. Like I said, I still held a tiny bit of hope that she’d be there, which of course would mean she changed her mind. I pulled into the drive and anxiously hit the garage door remote ... Damn! Her Focus was nowhere to be seen. I pulled my Navigator demo into my space and walked into the house with new anger. I really had hoped she’d be there.

I broke out a beer, sat in my easy chair, pulled out my phone, and dialed the number Bill gave me. After explaining who I was, I described what I needed and asked how much it would cost me. He told me that what I was looking for was so easy to get he wasn’t even going to charge me. I guess it wasn’t really the hospital he’d be hacking but the company who was conducting the trial. He told me that even though they had to use the hospital’s facilities for control purposes, all the data for the study would be kept on their own computer systems. He informed me he’d have all the information by the next day.

After disconnecting, I took another swig of beer and could feel myself slipping into depression. My chest started to hurt and I wondered if I was having a heart attack or was it just physically crumbling. I felt a tear run down my cheek. I wiped it away and gasped a breath of despair. “Damn her, damn her,” I said out loud.

My mind became a roulette wheel of thoughts twirling around so fast I couldn’t distinguish one from the other. When the wheel finally came to rest it landed on one particular thought ... I wasn’t going to be a victim in all this.

Whether she heard me correctly or not, I told her I wasn’t going to stay home and be celibate for the next three months and I meant it. I glanced at the time—quarter to seven. I ran upstairs and grabbed a quick shower. I was almost dressed when my phone rang. It was her. I put it down on the dresser while I combed my hair. After the sixth ring the answering machine kicked in.

“Hi, honey. I hope you’re out with some friends having a good time. We just finished up so I’m on my way home but there’s still a lot of rush hour traffic so I’m guessing I’ll see you shortly after eight. Bye, bye, honey. I love you.”

Yeah, right, I thought. She sounded happy, very happy, walking on air happy. Okay, I at least knew how much time I had so I went downstairs to grab a bite to eat and think. Hell, I hadn’t even looked at another woman since getting married. I thought of just hiring hookers but was pretty sure you had to get into the three to four hundred dollar range before getting someone decent, maybe even more. I sure couldn’t afford to do that very often. The only other option I saw was to find a meat market that catered to grownups. I wasn’t bad looking and I kept in shape but I sure wasn’t a player. That’s when an idea came from out of the blue. It was a long shot but what the hell.

Cheryl Tennison was a young widow who lived a few blocks down the street. When I say young, I mean young for me. I would guess her to be in her late twenties or early thirties. She and her husband had just bought their house when he was tragically killed by a drunk driver. The funeral was probably the sadist event I’d ever been to. Cheryl had to be physically helped and supported by her sister and brother in law every step of the way. Since they had just bought the house they had an insurance policy that paid off the mortgage. Everyone expected her to sell it and move into an apartment but so far she was still there. I was told she got more money from an additional life insurance policy her husband had through his work and also from a lawsuit she filed. I saw her at neighborhood get-togethers sometimes but never with a man. I wondered how long it’d been since she had sex. I know that sounds terrible but just maybe we could be of mutual benefit to each other.

I almost got cold feet on the way over there. I thought about her telling everyone in the neighborhood what an old letch I was. But then I thought, what the heck, I probably won’t be living here much longer anyway.

She was surprised to see me when she opened the door. “Darin, hi,” she said while looking around for Kendra. “Are you alone?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry to say. I’m wondering if you have a few minutes to talk.”

“Ah, yeah, sure, come on in,” she offered, standing back and opening the door wider. “Can I get you some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

“I’d love some,” I replied. “Can I help with anything?”

“No, I think I can handle coffee,” she chuckled.

She offered me a seat on the couch but I said I’d be just as comfortable in the kitchen so that’s where we went. For some reason I thought I might sound a little less like a dirty old man, sitting at the kitchen table.

I watched her face as I explained the situation. She patiently listened to my tale of woe, asking a question here and there. I could tell she was on my side in the matter. That gave me a little more courage. After two cups of coffee and several looks of sympathy from her, I was ready to pop the question.

“Cheryl, right now my marriage is hanging by a thread. I doubt very much we’re going to survive this but in any event, I’m not going to sit at home twiddling my thumbs. I told her I would not stay celibate for the next three months while she made whoopee with other men.”

I saw Cheryl’s eyes squint and knew she was anticipating what I was going to say next. I figured the worst she could do was throw me out and I was too far into my proposition to back out.

“Cheryl, I know nothing about your personal life but I’m looking for a friend with benefits.” I saw her back straighten. I figured I was about to get tossed out on my ear. “Please don’t take offense and if there’s a guy out there who’s about to kick my butt, I give you my apologies ... but if not, I do wish you’d think it over before hitting me over the head with a frying pan.”

That got a laugh out her anyway. Without saying a word, she got up for more coffee and poured us another cup. I could see she was at least thinking about it. She sat down again. “Okay, let me make sure I understand you right. You want to have sex with me while Kendra is doing this study thing. How often would we do it?”

“Ah, well she’ll be going to that thing three times a week. If you weren’t in the mood that often we could just go out to dinner or maybe dancing. I just don’t want to sit home while she’s at that place and I’m determined I’m not going to go without sex for the next three months.”

“Hmm, and when would we start?”

I wasn’t sure if she was teasing me with her questions or not. I was really hoping she wasn’t setting me up to laugh at me. “As soon as you’d like,” I answered.

“And what happens after the three months.”

That was a hard one. “To be truthful, Cheryl, I don’t know. I doubt very much if I’ll still have a marriage after this. If I do then we’d have to break it off. There would be a lot of marriage counseling and it wouldn’t help if you and I were still having sex. If the marriage is over then I guess you and I could keep going until one of us calls it off.”

“Darin, it’s been three years since Tom was killed. Since then I’ve not had a single date. I’m just not ready for another relationship yet and dating some guy I don’t really know just to have sex is a little scary for me. But this ... this is the best offer I’ve had in a long time.”

She stood and stretched out her hand. This I hadn’t expected—not at all. I wondered if I shouldn’t ask her if she wanted to think it over first but then I thought if I gave her time she might back out. I knew from Kendra’s voice mail that she had gone ahead with her clinical study so what the hell. I took her hand and started to follow her into the bedroom. We got about half way there when we suddenly stopped.

“Damn,” she said under her breath but just loud enough that I could hear. “I don’t imagine you brought protection with you?”

“Ah, no; to tell you the truth I didn’t really think we’d be doing this tonight already. I figured you’d want to think it over first.”

“What’s to think over? No, that’s not it. Since I lost Tom I’ve had no need for birth control. I’ll call my doctor tomorrow and get a prescription but that won’t help us now.” She glanced at a wall clock in the kitchen. “The drug store on Busse is open till nine. If you hurry you can still get condoms.”

I was back in twenty minutes flat. I quietly knocked. I’m not sure why I didn’t just ring the bell; it just seemed like knocking was the thing to do.

She peeked around as she opened the door a crack. When she made sure it was me she opened it all the way but stood behind it. I looked back when I heard the door close and saw she was wearing a long, blue robe that almost touched the floor. I assumed she was naked under it.

When we got to the bedroom I put the three-pack of condoms on the nightstand as she sat on the edge of the mattress and looked at me with a nervous little smile. She still had her body hidden behind that terrycloth.

“How ... ah ... how do you usually ... I mean ... are you more of a ... a guy of action ... you know what I mean, or do you like to take your time with a lot of foreplay?”

She was almost as nervous as I was. When Kendra and I made love it was slowly. I’d kiss my way where ever I was going at the time; boobs, pussy, neck--where ever. I had envisioned this, however, as more of a wham-bam-thank you ma’am, kind of thing ... just sex ... no strings attached. I had no idea what her thoughts were.

“Well, ah, what do you prefer?”

“God, this really is embarrassing,” she muttered. “I never considered anything like this. I figured sooner or later I’d wind up going to some bar for a one night stand, but you’re a friend. I’ve known you for years...”

“Would you rather not do this?” I asked.

“No, no, Darin. I definitely want to do this, I ... I just need a moment.”