Ownership

Ownership Part II

Wednesday, May 23rd, 11:13AM

K: Hi Shannon. You around?

S: Hi. Sorry I missed this. Was at the pool.

K: Fun!

K: Well, May is almost over. I'm thinking Memorial Day weekend is out, so would a day before then work? Or one weekday after?

S: Let me check.

S: Actually the weekend might be the best.

K: Wow. Ok. Sunday? Maybe 4 or 5pm?

S: Four sounds good.

K: I'll send an Uber.

Aaron

It's been a good couple weeks. We've been busy. Shannon has been picking out stuff for the new house. We drive by every few days. It's done. It's ready to move into. Just have to wait on the bank.

I try not to think about the stuff with Kevin. It's been weird. We don't talk about it, except in terms of planning: "If Kevin doesn't call" or "That day's open unless Kevin..."

Other than that it's like it never happened. She doesn't bring it up at all. Until today. I guess he texted, wants to know about what other day this month. With the holiday weekend I'm home to watch Chloe. We're not going anywhere. So she asks if Sunday night works for me.

Sure.

Kevin

I almost texted her the day after she left here. Two reasons really. First was I just wanted another at-bat. I absolutely blew it the first time. Straight missionary, no regard for her. Embarrassing.

Second is I just wanted her again. Wanted her in my house. In my bed.

I almost texted her the same day she left. Finally, I decided to put the phone in my home desk for a week. Didn't touch it until Sunday, when I decided I'd flip a coin each day and text her when it came up heads. That finally happened Wednesday, when after three days of tails I was about ready to abandon the whole plan and just text anyway. She surprised me when she said she could come over Memorial Day weekend. So now I've got some time to plan. Things have go better this time.

I'm no rookie at this shit. I've got to up my game.

Aaron

No suitcase next to her this time. She just has a bag. No idea what's in it. Not gonna ask. Car is supposed to be here by four. Means she should be home by ten.

Honestly this sounds crazy but it's a little worse, that tight time frame. On the overnight I was just guessing when but this time there's not much to guess: anytime I think about it they'll probably be fucking. And I'll be thinking about it all the time.

And there's the rub.

It bothers me so much today that I'd honestly just ask that they all be overnights, just to widen the timeframe. But then I'd miss her. Miss curving myself behind her while she sleeps. Hearing her breathing change rhythms. Feeling her hand on the small of my back. Sleeping face to face, breathing in the air she exhales.

As we wait for the car I make small talk with my own wife. We make plans to take Chloe to the park tomorrow. I mention stuff we need from the store. I run out of stuff to list off and just smile at her. She comes closer and hugs me.

"Don't get all worked up. I've got this down."

"You do? What's that mean?"

"Last time I realized he can play with my body..."

I shudder. She touches my arm.

"Just listen. But it's not like I'm really even there. It's just something that happens. And six months from now it'll all be over and we can forget it all."

I hate having her feeling like it's her job to make me feel better about this. She has to lay under a stranger and I'm the one who's going to whine? I have to show more than this. I have to be stronger.

I change my posture, stand taller.

"Baby, I'm fine. As long as you are."

I kiss her and of course the car pulls up right then. She picks up her bag and smiles before she heads out the door.

I only have to watch her go nine more times.

Kevin

I'm in a polo and shorts. I have a tray of meats and cheese waiting for her, plus a hundred dollar Cabernet waiting in the decanter. This time I have a playlist going, mostly classical music.

The doorbell rings and I'm up there this time before she can ring it a second time.

"Hi Shannon," I say as I open the door. She says hi back and steps in.

"Honestly you can let yourself in moving forward," I tell her.

"Okay, I guess so," she half laughs. So she's not comfortable with that idea yet. She has a bag with her and asks if she can take it up to "her" room. Her saying that makes me harden significantly. I say sure and I'll meet her in the living room.

I have the wine poured by the time she comes back down. She's again wearing a party-type dress, light blue. When she went up the stairs I noticed how low-cut it was in the back. It has tank top-type straps and a skirt that hits her mid-thigh but is loose enough she could twirl in it. Not that I'll ask.

I pat the couch next to me and hand her a drink as she sits down. She takes a sip, tells me it's good.

"How have you been doing," I ask.

"Good. It's a good summer so far," she says. We talk a little bit about their upcoming move. She talks about furniture they've gotten. She actually gets a little animated talking about the couch she picked out. And the bed. I look over at the clock and it's already past five. Vivaldi'sThe Four Seasonsbegins. I start really becoming conscious of the time. We don't have "all night." I can't wake up and have her come morning. I've got her right now and a little while after.

As she's finishing a story about a furniture store screwing up her order for an accent chair I move closer to her, which she notices. She pauses talking and I take her wine glass in my hand, set it on the table. I turn back to face her and she looks very serious.

"Shannon, you don't have to be scared. I'm never going to hurt you. Last time was ok, right?"

"It was fine," she says in a hushed voice.

I smile at her.

"Today will be better than that."

I move in to kiss her. She closes her eyes as our lips meet. I run my hand through her hair and wait for her mouth to open for me, but again it doesn't. I kiss her cheek, her neck, the fabric over her tits. I drop off the couch onto my knees, sliding between her legs. I kiss the front of her skirt and start to lift it up to remove her underwear. She pulls my face up toward her.

"You don't have to do that," she says. "I don't even like it that much."

I smile.

"I do."

I lift up her skirt, but there is no underwear, just her. Again fresh shaven. Her lips are full and pressed together tightly.

I kiss my way down her right inner thigh until I find myself wedged. She spreads her legs wider and I breathe in so I can smell her. As her scent fills my nose and mouth, my blood races warmer and faster. I lean forward to push my face into her, my nose just above her slit, my tongue licking her clit, my chest pushed up against the sofa cushion. I want to go lower on her, though, so I reach under her butt cheeks with my hands and pull her crotch out closer to the edge of the couch, slumping her down but freeing up her entire snatch for licking. I shake my face a little so I have her liquid on my cheeks, my chin, my upper lip and my nose. She's been quiet but is breathing a little faster.

I stand up. She looks surprised.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?"

After her question she starts to stand up, too, adjusting her skirt slightly. I gently push her back down.

"No. Here."

"Don't you need a --,"

I reach into my shorts and pull out a rubber.

She raises her eyebrows.

"Ok then."

She lays down, either resigned or receptive, and I pull down my shorts and step out of them.

"I guess no one was wearing underwear today," I say as I open the wrapper and roll on the condom, then kneel onto the couch between her legs.

I rub my hands over her tits, the dress warm against my fingers. She inhales as I push myself inside her. Some of her juices rub off of my face and onto her cheek and neck as I bury my face into her nape.

I'm keyed up and pushing pretty hard. Her hands are on my ass and pushing me into her in rhythm.

I start slamming against her widely spread legs pretty hard, but I don't hear her making too much noise. I think about changing her position but we're on a couch and that would be fairly complicated. Plus I'm almost there. Just as I come I feel her dig her nails into me. I lay on top of her for a minute or two, then try to extricate with as little mess as possible.

"We can go upstairs and shower," I say.

"Oh...ok," she says. She sounds dubious.

"You can go first," I say, to reassure her of her privacy.

I lay on top of my bed while she showers in my bathroom. She could have just gone to "her" room, but I did say "first" so that may have led her to believe I wanted her in mine. Maybe I should have gone in and watched her shower. Maybe that should happen another time.

She comes out wrapped in a towel, holding her dress.

"I'm going to go put this in the other room," she says. "I've got some other clothes I can change into."

"I'm sure it wasn't too comfortable," I agree.

She holds it up. Wine on the front, in the chest area where I kissed the dress and a little more on the front of her skirt. She flips it around and the back of the skirt needs some cleaning, too.

"Sorry about that," I say, laughing self-deprecatingly. "I should take care of that. Why don't you leave it here and I'll have it cleaned."

"No, it's okay. I can do it. It's no big deal," she says.

"Seriously," I say, getting up and walking towards her towards the bathroom. I put my hand on the dress, my fingers brushing up against her hand, "Anyway, I don't think you really want to have to throw that in with the rest of the dry cleaning for your husband to deal with."

She looks a little hurt. I immediately regret saying it. I think it sounded like I was digging it in and I wasn't. I try really hard to remind her about the roots of this arrangement.

"I'm sorry," I say, letting go of the dress.

She doesn't say anything, just walks out of the room, her butt cheeks dangerously close to the bottom of that towel.

Aaron

Chloe is playing in her room. I'm changing channels between baseball games, noticing how every team is wearing red, white and blue for Memorial Day weekend. I check my phone again, but no texts. A few minutes later I have the freezer open, weighing the pros and cons of pizza rolls and frozen pizzas.

Kevin

I stand in the shower, hot water on my neck, looking down at my feet.

I keep fucking this up.

The first time was a joke. A ten-minute quickie (and I'm giving myself a couple minutes credit.) So what do I go and do to make up for it? I probably do a worse job today. Go down on her when she says she doesn't like it, then another quick come. Oh, and I stain her dress and make her feel like a whore in the process. Solid work.

This isn't going the way I thought it would so far, even though I didn't even know at all how I thought it would go.

She hasn't warmed up much. Not that I've given her any reason to. I feel like I've tried to be friendly, tried to be respectful. That's a hell of a word. I guess by respectful I mean it in the way I've forced her into fucking me and being unfaithful to her husband just to have the home that she wants.

I watch the water going down the drain, mindful of her juices being washed off me again. Whatever feeling I hoped would come with all of this hasn't arrived yet.

It's amazing how clearly you can see the world right after you come.

After the shower I leave my towel in the bathroom, so I'm a little surprised to see Shannon in my bed already when I come out naked.

She's got at least a t-shirt on, covers pulled above her chest but not above her neck.

"I figured this is where you wanted us to be," she said, and I nod as I slip between the sheets, taking a peek as I do. She's got shorts on, too. I suddenly feel pretty naked, but at least we're under covers.

"I'm sorry about earlier," I say. He shakes her head.

"Don't," she starts. "I don't obviously know you that well, but I don't think you were trying to be an asshole." She glances at me, maybe to confirm?

"I know you know I've been pretty shy," she says. I think of her legs spreading for me on the couch, try to put the thought out of my head.

"I appreciate that you are trying to make me feel comfortable. I can't promise I ever will be," she says. I worry she might be about to cry, again.

"I can put some clothes on," I say, starting to get out of the bed, "Maybe that would be a start."

She touches my arm, pausing me.

"No, that's not the point," she says. "I don't know. All of it's still...weird."

I lay back down, my skin finally warming under the sheets.

"I know you don't know me very well," I say. So I give her a bio. The kind of life story you'd tell at a bar. "I'm fifty-seven. Have a couple of kids I don't hear from very often. Been in banking all my life," I look up at her, "by the way, saying you are in banking sounds much cooler than saying you're a banker."

She smiles. My biography might not have been detailed or complete, but I made sure it had a punchline.

Aaron

I consider jacking off for about the hundredth time, just to diffuse the tension. But I know she'll probably want to fuck when she gets home so I can't really do it. She said she should be home by nine. It's only a little past six.

Kevin

I look over at her.

"What else do you want to know?"

She looks around the room.

I wonder what she's thinking. I spend most of the time when I'm in the same room with her wondering that. And even some amount of time when she's not. It's hard to figure out so far. She doesn't say a ton either way. So I spend my time guessing. And usually I'm guessing she's unhappy. She agreed to this, so it's not like she's here against her will. She made an active decision. So...

She finally speaks.

"I don't really know."

It's been so long since I asked a question they I'm really not sure what it is she says she doesn't know about. But I know it's basically her constant stance here. Doesn't know what we're going to to next. Where anything is. What I want to do to her. Whether any of this will change her.

It's quiet in the room. Outside the window I can hear muffled music, muffled laughs and an occasional scream: somewhere down the street someone must be having a pool party. I remember being fifteen, talking for days with my friends about who'd be at the party, what might happen there. I remember standing poolside, drinking cokes, someone pushing someone else into the water. All those parties I never once remember looking at the other houses in the neighborhood, asking myself what was going on inside them.

I consider reaching over and touching her, but decide that might not make things better. A few seconds drift into a few more. Her eyes go from my dresser to the window. I almost feel like she's starting to drift off. I sit up.

"How about we go make some dinner?"

Aaron

I stay on the couch when I hear the car pulling up, but I'm at the door by the time she arrives. First thing I notice is she changed clothes.

"Hi," I say, greeting her with a hug, she hugs me back, then we kiss.

I fill her in on Chloe's night as I follow her into the kitchen. She grabs a bottled water, takes a couple of dishes I left in the sink and moves them into the dishwasher. I'm wondering what she wants to do next.

"Did you want to stay down here or go to bed?"

"Bed, absolutely," she says.

She's pretty quiet as we go about getting ready, me turning off lights, making sure doors are locked, then joining her in the bathroom to brush my teeth before beating her into bed, as usual.

She doesn't shower, comes out naked, puts one of my old T-shirts and climbs into bed. As she lays on her back I curl over towards her.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She's quiet, then says it was okay. Went fine again.

"He didn't hurt you?" She shakes her head.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue. It was all fine. Not much different from the first time."

"How many times did you do it?"

"Just once."

"Did you do anything else?"

She closes her eyes, sighs.

"I don't know if this helps anything, discussing the details."

"I just figured you wanted to talk about it."

No immediate response. Then: "I don't."

I let it sink in for a second.

"I don't want to make you think about it more than you want to. Or have to."

My hand rubs on her stomach.

"But you can imagine the blank in my mind is pretty hard to fill, Shannon. If you don't want to talk about it, I respect that. But also please know it's tougher for me not to know anything."

She keeps her eyes closed, but her lips move.

"Baby, whatever you picture happened probably happened. I love you. Let's just not...not do this every time."

"So I'm not even supposed to ask what happened?"

She looks right at me.

"What could I possibly tell you that would make you feel better? He ate me out, ok? Does that help how you feel?"

We both sit in silence, because we both know it doesn't.

After awhile she starts touching me with her hand. My shoulder. My side. My leg. My cock.

I lay on top of her afterwards, feeling some of what I put inside her drain out.

"I won't ask again, baby, if that's what you want."

She rubs her hand up and down my back.

"I think it'll be better that way."

I'm not sure it will be. My imagination is probably much darker than whatever the reality is. But she's right that pretty much any detail she'd give me would be a searing hot knife, just like the vision of her thighs pressing against his ears is opening up my insides right now.

I fall asleep on top of her.

Kevin

I clean up the dishes, put them in the dishwasher and go upstairs to get ready for bed. As I get to the top of the stairs I see the light in the room she uses is still on. I go in to turn it off and see it there on the bed: her blue dress, neatly folded. Folded so the wine stain -- the one on the chest of the dress, the one vaguely in the shape of a couple lips -- is the first thing you see.

Monday, June 18th, 7:40pm

K: Shannon?

S: Hello.

K: Sorry for the delay. Have been gone for the last nine or ten days.

S: I figured something.

K: I know it's last minute, but how does tomorrow night work for you? Maybe get here around 6?

S: That shouldn't be a problem. Let me check.

S: It's fine. So 6 then?

K: 6. See you then.

Kevin

Patience. I keep telling myself patience. The first couple times were obviously not what I wanted. So today my mantra is patience. She shows up just a tad after six, white tank top and jean shorts.

I wonder how much time she takes to pick out her wardrobe for this. It's interesting to picture her standing in her closet, saying no to this, no to that. Does she leave clothes on the hanger and hold them up against herself? Does she actually try on outfits? Does she want to look her best? Today she looks good, but this could easily be -- well, it probably is -- the least-planned outfit so far. The first two times she brought wardrobe changes. Tonight, no bag. Just her, a small purse and what she has on, which isn't a ton.

To be fair it's pretty hot out these days. When I returned to town I was struck by just how warm it had gotten since I'd been gone. You couldn't fry an egg on the sidewalk, but you wouldn't want to stand barefoot on it either.

Speaking of barefoot, she is, one leg crossed under her as we sit on the couch, sipping our second glass each of a Pinot Noir. I made us grilled salads for dinner, smoking the lettuce in my back yard, which she really seemed to like and to be interested in. It seems like Van Morrison and Fleet Foxes are doing their best to alternate on my playlist.