Part Five
...I woke in bed alone, slowly drifting up through the layers of a really good sleep, and for the first few moments slightly confused as to where I was. A strange room and bed can do that to me, I travel for work - rarely - and experience this disorientation no matter how comfortable the room is. Despite this disorientation I was happy, almost euphorically so, but I also had some strange dreams. In one, Pete and I had inexplicably shared a table alone over a drink while we chatted like intimate old friends.
In another dream, Jack had confessed his desire for me from the first moment we had met, moments before we had both collectively given in to our lust on this very bed. It was over the top passion, clothes flying off and all, but not tremendously satisfying physically because of it's passionate brevity. Dream Jack didn't know my body like a lover should either, and while he had at least pinned me to the bed in that dream somewhat creatively, he failed to seal the deal and bind me properly, despite the tools for doing so being on the table within sight. I even cursed in my dream, I remembered it clearly, something I just never do.
I knew, somehow, that one of those things actually happened, and the other but a passionate erotic dream, although different than the others I've been having with Jack as the star recently. In those others he had been my abductor, binding me creatively and taking me away - someplace - ostensibly to do something implied, but not experienced in detail. All this happened - in my kinky dreams - while my normally non passive husband just stood by and watched.
The real world parallels were impossible to ignore. In my earlier dreams Mike had failed to object to Jack's bound abduction of me, implying he couldn't, or wouldn't interfere with Jack's real world plans for me, whatever, or wherever they were. In this last dream - and on vacation in the islands with Jack and I - Mike wasn't present, and Jack therefore no longer had to take me away from him to do as he willed. In this latest dream I was quite literally Jack's for the taking, although who exactly was the aggressor in that one was a little unclear to me.
My dream sex with Jack wasn't all that good though - but that first passionate kiss was. What did this tell me?
It was my dream, why on earth hadn't I dreamt it was magnificent, best taboo sex of my life sex?
Unless of course if it wasn't really a dream...
I lifted the sheets and blanket already knowing what I would find. I there discovered my total nudity under the covers, and a moment later the smells of sex released from under the covers assailed my sensitive nose, confirming that Jack and I had in fact done the deed in the flesh. I then used my unbelieving free hand to explore below, and there I discovered the confirmation that logic and common sense shouldn't require, the specific details still not entirely clear at the moment though.
But, where was Jack now, and why did I feel so "mission accomplished" euphorically happy about Jack planting his seeds deep into me last night?
Unless...? But that just wasn't possible, I hadn't told a soul about that, nor would I knowingly do so under any circumstance that I could possibly imagine. It was, after all, just a suspicion, but one born out of a fair amount of logic and circumstantial evidence. Still, the deed was done, and there was no way to undo it, even if I should want to.
I sat up in bed and looked to the doorway, the trail of my scant clothing leading to the bed I was presently in kindling my memory, forced to remember bits and pieces of my aggressiveness with Jack the night before. It felt like I was watching the actions of another, but I knew deep down that this was all me, but where had such thoughts originated?
Inside my own head, I thought with conviction a moment later. This being pushed into pretending to be this sexy, larger than life, sex on legs alter ego wife of Jack's was the obvious answer. But how hard had I actually been pushed was again up for debate. My guard had certainly been lowered somehow, perhaps what I had drank the night before, my mouth dry from something strong, but what exactly escaped my memory at the moment.
Where to go from here though? Pretend I didn't want to go this far with Jack, or that it was my intention to seduce Jack the whole time, once actually thrown into this silly adventure alone with him?
One made me a victim, and worst yet Jack a perpetrator, the other made me a woman with a signed hall pass kind of free choice, and one free to exercise that choice with the man in her company. I was far more comfortable with gifting myself to my man in matters of the flesh rather than taking the aggressive lead though, it was all so confusing, even inside my own head, but how on earth to express this to Jack?
...Had my true husband not wanted such a situation to exist, he shouldn't have cajoled me into this lusty vacation with his best friend in the first place, no matter his debts in regards to my fantastic rings... AND, I critically thought further, he most certainly shouldn't have dressed me like sex on legs so that his best friend couldn't help but to "get the message."
With the precedent already set - we couldn't hardly undo last night, even if I should want to - and the little matter of husbandly permission already "somewhat" settled in my mind, I decided that I was going to encourage Jack to more properly set the pace going forward... for more than one reason. This arrangement at the same time would feel more natural to me as well; I liked my men to be in charge, at the very least in the bedroom. There were other reasons for this as well, but they were impossible to put to words at the moment.
I had initially hoped, perhaps foolishly, that Jack and I might manage to stay away from each other while here on vacation. My randy thoughts and offer in regards to his strange office gifts perhaps belied this notion though, as did my wardrobe inspired actions and over the top taunts.
This is not meant as an excuse, but I had no idea that dressing so provocatively in scanty bikinis and little dresses would have such an effect, on ME. The men around me, yes, to include Jack obviously, even before his reluctant inspection of my bare leg in his little sports car. The way both guys looked at me that first time I descended the stairs all dressed up like a model - just before my date with Jack at Michelangelo's - was awesome, and I perhaps selfishly wanted some more of that.
Jack only had one little thing to do, one small little key to open my "lockbox," and contained within that was the real prize...
If Jack thought last night was good, he had no idea what he was missing out on, and how extraordinarily wild I could be if properly restrained and handled. The "real prize," for me at the very least, was my total, helpless, struggling submission, and the "one man might not be enough tonight" insatiable lust such domination brought out in me. I was almost bipolar at times in bed when everything clicked, something Mike could now handle, but he had grown into the role. Jack was in for a surprise - or maybe not - but could he actually handle the real me despite his false bravado with his co-workers?
***
With Jack still missing - but presumed by me to either be in the hotel gym or out for a run - I took the opportunity to get my stinky self into the bathroom for a lengthy hot shower. I felt wonderful when I was done, but to be clear I had felt on an unnatural high since waking, despite the many conflicted thoughts racing around in my head. It was as if there were two of me inside this one body, each trying to gain control of the other.
Wrapped in a towel just large enough for the task and nothing else I found a sweaty Jack waiting for me when I entered the main living area of our expansive room, picking up our collectively discarded clothing as evidence of our conspiracy to briefly make love, which it obviously was.
Jack was a sweaty mess, his shorts and tee shirt sweat through, smelling like sweaty man to my sensitive nose, and at that moment very desirable to at least one part of me!
"Gym or a run, husband of mine?" I asked as I looked toward his lowered handsome eyes while still staying in character; I couldn't let myself forget what had brought me here in the first place...
Jack expected anything but this, his averted eyes gave that much away, but what I saw both in his eyes and his face afterwards was relief. His odd forced half smile told me this as well, but also that he was still obviously conflicted himself. Had Jack taken something not offered last night I would have been fully dressed, or more likely not even there, Jack bright enough to work this out on his own.
"Gym" was Jack's curt one word answer. He was so off balance, and my next words would temporarily continue this trend, but they were necessary, for me.
"About last night Jack, that was a 'once and done' thing..."
"... I understand." Jack interrupted, his tone perhaps telling me he was both relieved, and grateful, that the consequences weren't far worse than this... Or, was I possibly misreading this completely?
"I don't think you do sweetheart. This is my vacation too, my vacation from..." I stopped myself in mid sentence, I just couldn't go that far with anybody, most especially Jack who likely thought I was going insane already. He looked at me strangely, my own thoughts on all this still forming in my mind...
I couldn't let Jack romance me again either, that was for sure, our dinner date at Michelangelo's had been close to that. Romance for me led to love, and I was already obligated to another man in that regard. This was a struggle for me, Jack was attentive and charming as hell, not to mention well within reach, qualities Mike had back when we were courting. Not now, now I was dressed down back home so nobody else noticed me, and taken for granted. Would Jack also do that one day to me, if I were to... have a change of heart?
...Ordinarily dates led to courting, and courting to romance, and that possibly to love. Love, and to be honest, lust, then led to my bed if everything clicked as it should, and someplace in there - once - marriage as well. Such is the way I expected it worked with most women, but in my unique case "bed" could be a hazardous, confidence crushing place for a man. I was rather atypical in my desires and requirements there, for reasons that are complicated to explain. Not many nice men who had the other qualities I desired were up to the challenge, not that I had tried out hundreds, but I had tried one or two before Mike.
Jack had taken a rather direct shortcut to my bed, straight from friend, to friends with benefits, or as I had heard it crudely put at the office, "fuck buddies." Jack was, in that context, nothing but a somewhat emotionally detached playmate, and perhaps even a useful tool if things worked out as they might.
If I didn't let Jack romance me again, I could possibly even keep him safely out of my heart. If I were, however, foolish enough to let him in there, he could in a moment of weakness reek all kinds of havoc. This was my unstated goal, odd if one thought about it, on a honeymoon of all places...
"...For reasons that are my own we can't 'make love' again." I tried to explain, but this just further confused him.
"Okay, I got that. I don't want to ever do anything against your will."
"I'm botching this terribly, let me try again." The disconnect between our words and the associated meanings were frustrating to me, and I gathered Jack as well based on his tone. "I have agreed to play a part here with you. I'm your sometimes sexy and slutty imaginary perfect wife, depending of course on what room we're in at the moment, by your own definition. Trust me when I tell you that I can play that part better than you, or even that boss of yours, could possibly imagine. I'm therefore doing my part..."
"...and I'm not doing mine?" Jack finished for me.
"Something like that. You're going to blow this whole charade unless you start to act, well, like somebody who's married to a noisy nympho who needs a firm hand once in a while to keep her in line. Right now we're both sending some conflicting signals to that scorpion and her mate... He's not just some kind of accessory for Tammy to drag about you know." I cautioned Jack, although the logical reason for this apparently flippant observation of mine would remain hidden for quite some time.
"I've met Pete a few times before, he's odd, but very attentive when you speak to him. I've seen this when others speak to him as well, I guess it goes with the job though... What did you two talk about while I was distracted by Tammy's subterfuge last night by the way?" Jack jumping almost randomly from one thought to another, just like I had; it was likely as frustrating and hard to follow for him as it was for me.
"I have no idea!" I confessed honestly, but with a raised voice, the idea obviously bothered both of us.
"Other than invite them to 'our' house?" Jack asked with some irritation in his voice.
"I did WHAT?"
"You don't remember?"
"No, there's a whole block of time I'm missing from yesterday."
"Curious."
"What does Pete do for a living anyway?" I asked with an edgy tone in my voice.
"Dr. Peter Munchin, he's some kind of therapist."
"There's an important little detail it might have been good to know beforehand." I observed in snarky fashion, the temper I had not known since childhood coming alive, but I was under some atypical stress down here in the islands with Jack. This wasn't fair to Jack though, I could say it wasn't his fault, but that wasn't strictly true either. Still, this was so far away from where I had been emotionally when I had woken up, and I would far prefer NOT be pissed off all day if I could somehow manage it.
"I intended to tell you on the way to the airport, but you can see how that worked out." Jack explained in almost a whine.
"What the hell was wrong with me?" I raged at myself. Here I was crushing this man, a man I was supposed to be supporting and building up. He was a friend, and the best friend of my husband, and one who would do anything I needed him to do on a whim around the house if Mike was out of town on business.
***
"Peter Munchin and Tammy Munchin? There's a joke in there someplace you know" I observed, the odd thought popping into my mind like a gift out of the blue. I just didn't think, or most especially talk like this though. This mood swing was another complete reversal of direction, so much so that I again wondered if I were losing my mind with the stresses of this deception, not to mention the product of the affair I had been coaxed into with Jack.
"REALLY?" Jack chided with raised eyebrows.
"Okay." I answered, my mind uncharacteristically awash with all kinds of juvenile comments, it was a welcome retreat from the seriousness of our conversation though, but further evidence that there might actually be two of me inside this one body at the moment.
"Can we get back to my sexy wife that needs a firm hand?" Jack asked to re-center the conversation. "I don't think I like the bitchy one all that much."
"I think it was 'sexy and slutty,' but, yes you can. You're impossibly nice, charming, great to look at, even fun to be with, but what have you led Tammy and the others to believe about 'us'? You need to man up a little Jack, take a little for yourself and don't be so giving." I opined. This was in direct contradiction to what I - and possibly most other women on the planet - wanted from a man, outside of the bedroom. At least perhaps in my particular case.
"What's wrong with charming guys who want to take care of you and treat you with respect?" I asked myself hypocritically.
"Nothing at all, they're wonderful..." I answered in my head. "...unless one doesn't want to accidentally lose her heart to one of them..."
...The possible explanation for my "bitchy attitude" then occurred to me, although it was not intentional on my part. Was this to keep charming Jack at the proverbial "arm's reach" away from me, or at least from my vulnerable heart?
"Man up?" Jack asked, his words in competition with the 'other' voice in my head suddenly.
"In other words" I explained, "if you want it, take it, the making love part is the 'once and done' thing I was trying to explain earlier."
"Take it?" Jack asked, struggling with the varied directions of our conversation.
"Yes. Roughly and definitively. I like to be manhandled too, spank my ass if you feel the need, I know you'll like that, truth be told I probably will too. Pretty much anything you can dream up I'm game for, bruises heal... except for slapping my face, I don't like that at all."
Jack looked concerned, or even just a little pissed off, and I knew I had to explain lest he come to some kind of erroneous conclusion about his best friend Mike.
"Not Mike, not ever! I had a boyfriend once that had made an assumption about what my definition of 'rough' was when I had asked him to be that way with me experimentally. He felt terrible about it immediately afterwards, even though it was an easy mistake to make in the heat of the moment, and to be honest totally my fault as I hadn't been clear as to what I was after. That ended it for us shortly afterwards, his choice, not mine."
"One rule, don't slap my face. How hard is that?" I asked rhetorically to clarify things, based on Jack's expression.
Jack looked aghast, and far more likely to want to lovingly worship my body instead of playfully punish it, despite the caricature he had created for himself with his boss and co-workers.
"Okay, two rules." I conceded. "Don't slap my face, and we never had this conversation."
"Okay." Was Jack's tentative comment, he looked perhaps more perplexed than when we had started our conversation - that I will deny until the day I die.
"I'm starving by the way." I told Jack, once again changing the direction of our conversation with wicked speed.
"Me too. How about we get some breakfast someplace in town where we might not run into you know who?" Jack offered, he likely happy himself for the change in subject.
"Sounds great, but it sounds like you're asking me" I prodded. This was in direct contradiction to what I required of him on our first date just a few days ago. And I wondered why he was confused!
"I can do this." Jack told me. "You just have to give me some time to adapt. How about we use a word between us if I push you too hard and you want me to stop, that way we can stay in character if somebody is around?"
"Sounds reasonable, what word?"
"'Australia', I've always wanted to go there." Jack answered.
"Okay, let me get some shorts and a shirt on and we'll go."
..." No, I don't think so. Don't you have a sundress or something?" Jack asked.
"Yeeesss."
"That and a pair of heels, I especially like the way you look in those."
"And nothing else?" I asked, although I should have seen this coming. But, if I asked Jack to take charge and act like a typical guy, how could I possibly complain when he did?
"Drop the towel and model something for me, we are married you know" Jack ordered, but with a smile on his handsome face when he did to soften the blow. He then sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table like a brute, clearly waiting for the "show" to start. Such would expose me to Jack like a stripper, something I had fantasized about doing back when I was in college. I didn't have the nerve back then to see my fantasy turned into reality, it was one of the few regrets I had growing up.
"You seem to be adapting..." I offered with a snarl, Jack's new found comfort in ordering me around perhaps my self inflicted undoing...
(story continues in Indecent Proposal 6)