171 comments/ 21247 views/ 23 favorites Opening Arguments By: jezzaz F. Scott Fitzgerald once said ""The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function..." The eternal argument about open vs closed marriage; about sharing vs exclusivity is one where I honestly can see both sides. I'm no genius; my wife - and every one else - is very clear about that – but here's a little diatribe about this anyway. Edited by my good friend NoneTheWiser, who has a habit of coming up with better names for my stories than I do. There is no sex in this story. Sam was sitting at the bar, sipping his Bud Lite – 'Diet beer', his thirteen-year-old son called it, razzing his dad gently – while kind of watching the game on the big screen. He looked around and counted. There were twenty-six different screens in the sports bar, showing twelve different sports. At least two of them he had never even knew existed. He shrugged. No wonder no one talked any more. Too busy watching other people do things than to do them themselves. Smart phones; TV's in bars; why actually bother with physical social interaction at all? Speaking of that – and not even appreciating the irony -, he pulled out his phone to check the time. Damn, Jesse was late. He was never late. What the fuck? He was into his second beer by the time Jesse arrived, plunking himself down on the stool next to Sam unceremoniously and without comment. He just nodded to Sam, and then gestured to the bar keep for a beer. "What'll it be, sir?" the man enquired. Jesse glanced at what his friend was drinking, wrinkled his face up when he realized what it was and said, "Well, it won't be the horse piss this idiot is drinking, that's for sure. A Sam Adams I think. It's cold outside. It fits." The bar keep nodded appreciatively, doing his best not to make the same face at the Sam's "drink", and wandered off to the rack of beer taps along one wall, to pour the drink requested. Jesse turned to Sam and said, "So, what is it that couldn't wait? I know it's Thanksgiving weekend, but I'll see you Monday at the office. What's up, man?" Sam's face wrinkled in return, hearing the 'man' part of the sentence. Eighteen months in LA and his friend had returned with his speech peppered with "man" and "dude" and other California-ism's. He wouldn't have minded, but Jesse was forty-eight, balding and was never going to be mistaken for a surfer dude. He was still a fine figure of a guy – no appreciable fat on him, but he was also 'decidedly of the older persuasion', as Sam's son described his father. The description worked just well for Jesse as Sam. He shook his head momentarily and said, "Lets get a booth. We're gonna need a little privacy for this." He got up, moving towards the row of booths on the far side of the bar. Jesse picked up his beer and followed along, saying, "OOooh, now you've got my interest! Cloak and dagger stuff. Do you want to pat me down to see if I'm wired?" Sam just glanced back at Jesse, a little annoyed at his free manner. This was going to be hard enough, without Jesse making jokes. He had to mentally gird up his loins to tell Jesse what he had to say. It was going to destroy him enough, without him thinking it was all a joke. "Just....sit, Jesse. There's shit to say. And I don't think you are gonna think it's good shit." Jesse stopped and looked at Sam, trying to read him. "Not good huh? Ok... not liking the sound of that. Lead on, MacDuff." They settled in the end booth, next to a wall and two away from the nearest occupied one. "So, go on then, this is your party. Shoot." Sam took a deep breath, considering his thoughts and how to express what he needed to say. Jesse and he had been friends for over fifteen years, off and on. They were casual friends at college, had ran into each other at a mixer three years after graduation, then worked together at a small advertising agency. They started to hang out together, their wives became friends, and five years ago started their own business together. Unlike a lot of business partners, they actually managed to remain friends. They'd even vacationed together twice, once on a cruise and once in the Bahamas. Their business had done well in the last couple of years. They'd earned the marketing account for a small indie movie, made in LA but showcased at Sundance, and constructed a funny and imaginative marketing campaign around it for peanuts - when the movie won a short story Oscar, they'd been thanked in the acceptance speech. Suddenly the phone was ringing off the hook. After signing two new and lucrative deals, they'd looked at each other, gone out and got very drunk and decided there was no option but to open an office in Los Angeles. Jesse 'volunteered' to go out and start it up, hire people, and stick around until he felt it was capable of operating without constant oversight, at which point he, and his wife Debra, would return to Minnesota. Sam would hold down the fort at home until Jesse returned. It had been a relatively easy decision. Sam and his wife Janelle had children in school, and Jesse did not. Debra had a degree of wanderlust in her anyway, that Janelle simply did not, and so it hadn't been a decision the two disagreed over. Jesse and Debra had moved to the Beverlywood area in LA, just off Venice Boulevard, set up shop in Santa Monica, and twenty-two months later returned in triumph to their four-bedroom house in Stillwater, Minneapolis. They'd been back almost three months and Jesse had settled back in immediately. Sam had worried that there would be friction – they'd both been relatively on their own for the past couple of years, and working together again might have been hard, but none of his fears were realized. They'd fit together again almost immediately. They had, apparently, that type of friendship where they could be away from each other for a long period of time, and just pick up immediately from where they'd left off. Of course, they had been in constant communication and had seen each other on occasion during what they had called "Jesse's Journey". And then, Janelle had come home after an evening out, cornered Sam after the kids had gone to bed and words had been exchanged. Now here he was, sitting with Jesse, his old friend, trying to find the right words to express and explore an extremely volatile situation. "Ok. Well... er, ok. I don't know how to phrase this without bein' fuckin' blunt. I know we are ad guys, but this isn't Mad Men and it's not nineteen sixty-five, and if I beat around the bush, I'll be waffling for the sake of it," said Sam, fully aware that he was doing just that. Sam's speech was decidedly more blue collar and 'colorful', as his mother had described it after meeting him the first time. The more uncomfortable or emotional he was, the more the bad language came out. It was another reason why he'd stayed home and Jesse had gone to Hollyweird land. While Sam was the better negotiator, willing to indulge in brinkmanship, Jesse was the easier to approach and talk to initially. Sam was way more blunt than Jesse. Jesse liked that about his friend – you were never wondering where you stood with him, although he could be considered aggressive by those who didn't know him – and even by some who did. "I don't know if you know, but Janelle is part of a... well, it's sort of a book group. Only, they sort of take it a stage further. Personally, I think it's a load of horseshit, but you know how women are. It's something this group started in college – they still get together now and pick a book and talk about it and all that other crap that women do when they've got too much time on their hands. You know what I mean," he said, rolling his eyes at Jesse, who nodded with understanding.. "Anyway, this little group goes further than just reading the book, right? They try and, well, involve themselves in whatever the book is about. I mean, it sounds fuckin' stupid to me, but they get their jollies out of it, and it's all very safe, so whatever, right? Keeps her happy, I'm all for it." " 'Involve themselves'?" asked Jesse, using air quotes. "Yeah, well, I did say it was pretty stupid. But if the book is about, oh I don't know, police work or something, they go to a cop bar and yammer on about the book. Surrounded by real cops. If it's about horses or something, they go find a farm themed restaurant to talk. I dunno, explaining it to you, it sounds even stupider than when she told me about it. Whatever." He said, forcefully, trying to bring himself back to the point. "So, right. The last book they decided to read was Dracula. The original version, by Bram Stoker. Lots of gory shit, so I'm told, all against some bullshit romantic old world backdrop." Sam was having trouble disguising his disgust. "Apparently the only place they could figure out to talk about this was some gothic nightclub called 'Ground Zero'. Some sort of gothy place, with all sorts of weird events. Leather and lace night. Bondage night. I don't fuckin' know. Whatever." Sam was obviously embarrassed just bringing it up. Jesse grinned at Sam, and took a large drink of his beer. "Yeah, well. Here's the hard part. Janelle told me that it was not a place she would normally patronize, which made it all the more surprising that she saw someone else she knew there. She saw Debra there. Your wife Debra. Doin' shit." Jesse stopped smiling. Instantly. "And she... damn Jesse, this is hard to tell you.... Well, from what Janelle said, she wasn't alone. She had a friend with her. A male friend. A very close male friend from what Janelle described to me. There were... intimate moments." Sam was obviously struggling with the retelling. He couldn't look Jesse in the eye. "She told me she wasn't dressed like the Debra we know and love either. She was wearing ... revealing attire. And it was definitely Debra. Janelle said she watched her for a while to be sure. It was definitely her. She didn't go over, because, as Janelle said, what the hell do you say in that situation? She didn't want to get wrapped up in having to keep confidences. You know what Janelle is like over keeping secrets like this. She can't. You know that. It would have blown up her – and my – face." It was a now legendary funny moment, when Janelle had blown a secret birthday party for Jesse four years earlier. At the time, it had not been funny, but now it was something everyone could smile about. "Typical Janelle!" was how it was viewed today. Jesse sat, no emotion showing on his face. Sam leaned forward, putting his hand on Jesse's arm and looking intently at him. "I'm really sorry to have to be the one telling you this, man. Really I am. I love Debra...but I think... I think that all is not fuckin' well, you know? You need to know this. I love you too much not to pass this on." Jesse, staring off into the distance, suddenly came to life, slamming his fist down onto the table. "God FUCKING damn it. I'll fucking kill her," he said angrily, grimacing and not looking Sam in the eye. "Jesse, I know this is hard, but... be calm old buddy. As calm as you can be. We'll get past this. Together. Whatever is going on; whatever you decide to do, we are here for you. You know that. Janelle considers you the brother she never had," Sam's concern for Jesse was palpable. Jesse took a deep breath, steadied himself, looked intently at his glass in front of him and then impulsively picked it up. Sam half expected him to throw it, but instead he drained the whole thing in one go, one mighty gulp. And suddenly, the anger was gone. Just...gone. Jesse just deflated. Sam was shocked at the sudden change. Whatever he expected, he hadn't expected that. "Ok. Right, well, that was... unexpected. I'm sorry Janelle had to see that, Sam. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. I'll take care of it." There was silence for a moment. Sam looked at Jesse, looking for signs of incipient explosive next-stage wrath, when the reality of the situation had set in and Jesse just sat, staring at his empty glass. Out of the blue, Jesse said, "So, my round then?" Sam was... astounded, surprised, confused, and worried, all at the same time. "Jesse, you do get what I told you, right? What Debra was doing?" "Well yeah. She was dressed up like a slut, dancing suggestively with other guys and not acting like a wife should, right? Janelle saw it, and now you are telling me, right?" "Well... yes...?" there was an enquiring tone in Sam's voice. "Same again then?" asked Jesse, gesturing at Sam's glass. "What? Oh, yeah, I guess..?" Jesse got up and bustled to the bar. Sam sat, stunned. Then he whipped out his phone and dialed home. A quick hissed one sided conversation happened in short bursts. "Janelle? Look, I'm here. I told him. He got really angry for a second, then just calmed down in a heartbeat and carried on as if I told him that the Twins signed a minor leaguer. He's getting me a beer for Christ's sake. Are you sure you saw what you said you did?" "No, he doesn't seem that pissed off." "I don't know." "Well, I don't know, either. You should ask him." "Sure, I'll just ask him about his erections. Yeah, right, for sure Janelle. No problem. I'm sure he'll be hugely forthcoming about that... Hold on, he's coming back. I'll call you later." By the time Jesse got back at the table, the phone was put away and Sam was all fake smiles. His smile became more genuine when he saw that Jesse had got the twenty-two ounce beers, not the wussy sixteen ouncers. Years ago, they'd spent three months together in England on secondment to an advertising group based in Manchester, and once a guy gets used to an imperial pint, a sixteen-ounce American pint is forever subject to disapproving glances. A twenty-two ounce beer was more like it! There was silence as Jesse put the drinks down, and both took a large sip of their brews before Sam hesitantly said, 'Are you ok Jess? You seem..." Jesse sighed, then burped. "Ok. Well Sam, I really never wanted to have this conversation, but you kinda forced my hand. It was going to come out at some point anyway I guess. You are my partner and my friend so... ok then. So be it." He took a deep breath and put his drink down, one hand circling the bottom of the glass and rotating it, as he stared into the amber liquid. "While we were in LA, things... happened. Debra cheated on me. I caught her. It was traumatic." Sam's mouth fell open. Sam couldn't believe it. After a moment he gathered himself and went into good friend mode. "I'm so sorry Jess. I had no idea. I don't know what to say? Not Debra? Were you totally sure?" Jesse looked at Sam sourly and said, in a low voice, "Well, they were fucking on the couch when I walked in, so yeah, pretty sure Sam. You don't tend to mistake someone else's cock sinking into your wife's snatch, and hearing her moan. I am actually quite observant about things like that." Sam couldn't help but notice that Jesse's implicit humor and way of expressing himself could come out even dealing with such difficult shit. "What did you do? I mean...you hit the guy, right? Tell me you decked him." "What would be the point, Sam?" Sam couldn't quite believe his ears. "What? That guy was fucking your wife Jesse! He should be punished. Capital punishment if you could get away with it. You don't just let the guy walk away. There is a line to be drawn. You know that. I mean, I am so mad right now, I want to find him and whack him upside the head." "Well, sure. No question. But me beating on him, that's going to stop Debra from wanting more than me, exactly? She's already done it. Already taken that step. Is me smacking this guy going to stop that desire? I'd hit him. My anger would take over and god knows where it would stop. I'd be arrested, spend some time in clink, Debra's on the outside, and what do you think she's going to be doing? How would that that helpful?" "Well, yeah, but still. I mean, you can't just walk in on that and go into fuckin' Vulcan mode and be all emotionless about it. You've got to ....... do SOMETHING." "Well, sure, I didn't just freeze. Out came the phone, got a few pictures, and then I walked out again. I mean, I was pissed. Beyond pissed. I could have killed the guy. And her, to be honest. There I was, trying to get our new office started and here she was, fucking some golf pro. That's who he was, by the way. Some golf pro she'd been taking lessons from." "What then?" "Well, the usual. I went to a hotel. She tried to call me, I ignored her, called a lawyer and so on. Turns out in California, you get burned big time in divorces. She might have taken half my ownership in the company. Or we'd have a huge fight about jurisdiction and I could have just funded lawyers for a while. Honestly, while I could have cheerfully strangled her, she would have the last laugh. I'd literally have been paying for her to have lovers. Well fuck that." "I'm sure. So... how did you get back together?" "Well, that's the thing. While I had given up on the marriage, she had not. She fought tooth and nail to get me in the same room as her. And here's the kicker. I resisted because I knew if she did, I'd be lost. I would give in. I knew I would. And I didn't want to. Except that I did want to. But I knew I shouldn't. But I wanted to. But I was afraid to. And I was afraid not to. It's not simple, Sam. It seems simple when its not you. It's a whole lot harder and more complicated when it is you. I loved her. Still do." "WHAT? But she fucking cheated on you!" Sam was outraged. His friend was no pussy. He knew this for a fact – they'd been arrested for drunk and disorderly and causing an affray more than once, one particularly memorable time when Jesse had taken on a group of college grads who were harassing a group of women. "Look, I thought about just ending it, I mean the marriage. Once she'd had her say – she still loved me, more than ever in fact, the whole sex with others thing had proved that to her even more than she knew. She wanted to be with me, grown old with me, yadda yadda yadda. The sex with other people thing was not about me at all. All the usual shit you'd expect from a cheater caught red handed. I mean, she sure made it clear that I was the creative one in the relationship, because she was really kind of predictable. My favorite...I was culpable to a degree..." Sam could take no more of this, and interjected, forcefully. "Oh sure. You personally chose the cock for her to 'accidentally' fall on to, right? For fuck's sake, Jesse..." Jesse looked at Sam, slowly, with an expression he couldn't read. Eventually he said, "Of course I'm not completely responsible. Yes, you are right. She decided to do it. She ignored our vows. I had no input and was not the catalyst for that. Well, I was, partly. You see I created the environment for her little affair to happen. Well, you and I both did. The work to set up that office was significant, you know. I was away from home, working at all hours. Even when I was at home, I was on the phone. People in Hollywood, well, whatever else you say about them, they work. They work hard. They are in the office at all hours. And so I had to be responsive. I won't say I abandoned Debra, but I certainly wasn't around as much as I used to be. We knew this going in, but still, saying you know what it's going to be like and actually living through it, well, that's a different thing." "Well, ok. We work hard. We play hard too, Sam. This isn't our fault. It's not your fault. That is bullshit, that's just her guilting you" "No, I'm not saying it is is my fault. She betrayed me. There's no doubt about that, and she knows it too. She's consumed with guilt about it. About how it made me feel, how hurt I was. From what I can gather, she never even really thought about what would happen if she was caught. It wasn't about disrespecting me, as much as it was finding something exciting to do while I wasn't around. She pledged pretty much anything to stay with her. I'd come home and find her in a cheerleaders outfit, or she'd come the office and give me a blow job during lunch. I mean, she pulled out ALL the stops." Opening Arguments "I should fucking think so too. Cheerleader outfits?" Sam asked, suddenly picturing Debra's smoking body in a skimpy cheerleader suit, before realizing he should stick to helping Jesse. "It sound great, but how does it make the betrayal go away"? "It doesn't. It can't. The hurt man; oh, damn, the hurt. You start questioning all sorts of things. How you are as a man, what she really thinks about, if this other guy had a big dick, if he was better in the sack than you are. It's fucking demoralizing and soul-destroying pal. I hope you never have to go there." "Yeah," was all Sam could think of to say. Both took a drink, deep in thought, imagining bad and worse situations. Then Sam suddenly had a thought. "So, me telling you this, this has got to be the end, right? I mean, she's doing it again. You can't stand for that, right?" "Weeeeelllll... there's more to the story buddy." "Seriously? What? How? I mean, Jesse, you know – fool me once, fool me twice – you know how it goes" exclaimed Sam, the drink on it's way to his mouth forgotten. "Yeah," sighed Jesse. "So, long story short, I got convinced." Jesse just simply shrugged. "Maybe I was a sucker. I dunno. I love that woman, and she loves me. She's way harder on herself for what she did than I was. She'd do things like give me the passwords to all her email and her phone, for texts. She'd download her gps location history, annotated with where she was and why. She couldn't even cum with me any more, not because I wasn't any good, but because her shame and guilt wouldn't let her. We did get over that one, by the way." Sam just stared at Jesse. This was too much information, but still not enough. He didn't care if Debra came while Jesse fucked her; he cared that Jesse stayed while Debra fucked him over. He asked the question without speaking words. His eyes did it for him. "Yeah, I know. I know dude. Believe me, I ranted and raged. And she cringed and kept apologizing. Telling me it wasn't anything to do with me, all that shit. All the usual shit you get, when someone is caught. I think 50% of it was genuine and 50% of it was how much she regretted getting caught. That changes over time though, once she got an idea of how it felt. I'll get to that though. "And then... well, we'd been stable for about four months when she approached me. Here's the thing Sam. We'd not really talked all that much about what she'd been doing with this golf pro – Angel Santino, his name was. Angel. What a fucking joke. More like the devil to me. Anyway, she just started talking one night. We'd both had a bottle of wine each, and it just started coming out of her. She'd been caught up with the whole 'new cock' thing. That's how she described it. The flush you get when you meet someone else who is into you. They even have a phrase for it in LA. NRE. New Relationship Excitement. Can you imagine, Sam. I thought we could do a campaign for it or something. Any way, she told me that the NRE for her wasn't so much the whole falling in love thing, more the exploration of a new sexual partner. What they like, what they don't like, what they can teach you, what you can teach them. She said it was like having two lives. She kept stressing that it was nothing about me. Nothing to do with our life together. That it was totally separate. "She was just interested in the experience. There was no longevity to it. She said she'd been surprised when she embarked on the affair, how she had such zero emotional investment in it. It had fed her ego, she'd been interested and enjoyed it, but there was no question of leaving me, or rubbing my face in it or whatever bullshit she used to justify it to herself. I was there, I'd always be there, her number #1 guy. She never denied me anything, would never be some place else when I needed her, it was all done on a whim and never planned, so there was no way anyone else would ever or could ever be a priority to her. Jesse stopped, and looked at Sam's face. "Yeah, I know. It all sounds like justification bullshit. But stop for a second. Think. What if it were true?" "What?", asked Sam. "Jesse, you know better. That is just such bullshit. It's like no cliché left behind." "No," said Jesse, "I mean think about it. What if it were true? What if she can do this and be emotionally distant from it? What if it is what she calls it, 'an extreme game of volley ball, where both sides win, and that's all the attachment there is'? What id the clichés are true? I mean things don't become clichés by accident " "You're her husband. You aren't supposed to be her #1 man, you are supposed to be her only man. I don't see how those clichés can be true". "No, I couldn't either. Took me a long time to think about that and even more time to come to any conclusions. But the thing is, Sam, I know her. I know when she's lying – well, mostly -, when she believes what she is saying. I know I am her top priority. I know she will always be leaving a party with me." "Right up til she doesn't. She's not exactly earned much capital respecting those kinds of rules, has she? Jesse took a sip of his drink and said, "Sam, would Janelle ever leave a party with someone else?" "Of course not," Sam snorted derisively, "and I wouldn't let it happen if she wanted to." "So, if you know Janelle wouldn't, why can't I know Debra won't?" "Because Janelle hasn't already been sleeping with someone else behind my back. Come on Jesse, you can't seriously be buying into this crap? " Jesse grinned and raised his glass to Sam to show there were no hard feelings about what he'd just said. "Fair comment Sam. Fair comment. But, I do know about that now. I know what she did, why she did it, and how to protect against it. If it's a part of her, and she said it was a hugely exciting thing, what does it hurt me to let her have it again? In very controlled circumstances?" Sam just stopped drinking and stared at Jesse in horror, the understanding of what he was saying slowly dawning. "Are you saying.... You let her... do this?" Jesse shrugged again, with a rueful smile on his face. "Look, as you already said, she's done it now. She might do it again, she might not. But if I'm aware, if I allow it – under very controlled circumstances, obviously, - she has nothing to fear and everything to gain by keeping her word. She wants to be married to me, have me as her priority... It's not like there aren't processes in place to ensure that it's controlled. Rules, and so on." Sam, despite himself, was fascinated. "Rules? You mean like "forsaking all others? Isn't that a rule?" "Yeah. No. I mean, yes she did break that vow. I know it. She knows it. But what I am talking about is rules we agreed to after that. To make sure its playing ,not cheating. I mean, first we have post-nup that she signed, where if she cheats, or does anything sexual – or even emotional - with anyone without my express approval first, she's out the door with only the clothes on her back. That was non negotiable." Sam nodded at this, still not buying into this nonsense but at least acknowledging to himself that the post-nup was a good thing.. "I get to decide if and when she plays, and get to approve the guy. If I say no, it doesn't happen. I've said no a couple of times just to see and she acquiesces without issue every time. She can't go out and flirt anywhere people we'd know might see her. It has to be discrete, which is why I'm pissed now. I mean, she was at a place where I think it's reasonable not to expect to see family friends, but still – she did. We'll be having words on that front. She's going to be grounded for a few months, I can tell you. The post-nup I mentioned? Only she had to sign that. I didn't. She wasn't wildly thrilled about that, but fuck that. She had the affair, not me. She's the one who needs to sign it, I don't. She wants to stick around, she had to put her John Hancock there." "It's condoms all the way, no swallowing and no playing with any married guys, unless his wife knows and approves. No one more than four times – so no chance of any long term relationship developing. No threesomes or, sub/dom games and the people she plays with have to have respect for her. You know, none of this pissing on people or anything like that. No marks and she can never stay overnight – no visits more than three or four hours, no weekends or time away with someone else or anything like that. Never more than once in a month, either. And I always have to know who she is with and where she is. She usually sends me a text with a picture of the guys drivers license, just to be sure. Assuming I even let it get that far. The power is in my hands here." Sam was horrified and fascinated at the same time. Did this shit really happen to real people? To his best friend? Really? "And I get to play too, if I want to. And I don't have to ask her either. She needs the permission because she strayed and I stayed true. To be honest, I've only done it a couple of times on my own, and the first time, I made her find me a woman and convince her to party with me. She didn't like that one iota, but she had to feel what it felt like. You know? Sam sort of did and nodded, involuntarily. "I didn't make her watch, but she was down stairs when I was upstairs, if you know what I mean. She was extremely unhappy about that, but she had to know what it felt like, even if it wasn't the same. At that point she did stop and think more about what she'd done and what we were doing now. I think she understood the rules a lot better after that. She had followed them, but now she knew why I needed them." Jesse took another drink, then looked at Sam earnestly. "So, now you know. I let my wife play on the odd occasion, and I do myself, on the very odd occasion. I suspect this little nugget will have change the way you look at me, so we should probably get that out of the way. I can see right now, you are disappointed in me." Sam sighed. He didn't know what to say. Well, he did, but he had no idea how to broach it. Thinking furiously, he took another long draft of his beer. "Well, I can't say I'm not surprised. I mean, this is a bombshell. I thought you were happily married..." Jesse broke in, saying, "We still are happily married Sam. That's what is the most important take away. Sure, we came to this the hard way, and there was – and still is, if I'm honest – a lot of hurt along the way, but now we are here. She's mine – I know she's mine, and she's done everything she can think of to make sure I think that. The bottom line is, so far, this works for us." Sam rolled his lips inside his mouth, against his teeth, staring at his glass and trying to figure out what to say. "Ok,. I don't really buy it, but lets move on from that. I don't get how you are ok with this. I mean, she's busily giving to others what should only be yours. How do you get past that? Surely this is something that should only be between you? I'm struggling here Jesse. I'm not sure I can get behind this." "Well, yeah, and her betrayal was pretty fucking nasty, no question. But the question is how do we go forward. Maybe we both learned something from the cheating and turned it into something that works. The reality of the marriage vows is to protect the marriage, the relationship. If the relationship is sound and built well, then vows like this that don't make that much sense in the first place. Our relationship was more sound than we thought. Or less, depending on your point of view. After all, she did cheat. But it wasn't in a situation where she was looking for an out. She was looking for more 'on top' of that relationship." "I can't process that, Jesse. I mean, I don't see it that way. A good relationship is one where you don't need to go outside it for stuff like sex or whatever. The whole point is that you satisfy each other. You don't need anyone else, because the one you want is already there. And vice versa. To me, that's the definition of a fuckin' good marriage." "Yeah, that looks great on the inside of a Birthday Card Sam, but the reality is different for some people. You know, one size doesn't fit all. I mean, you are here with me, right? We are talking and we have a relationship that is different from the one with your wife? When you and I talk about hunting, about boozing, about technology and all sorts of shit that bores the shit out of Janelle, that's not cheating one her. So you get different things out of different relationships. You can't have ONE relationship that satisfies EVERY need you will ever have. It doesn't happen. It can't happen, because women are women and have different needs and priorities from men. "This is kind of an extension of that. Sure, it's different when sex is involved, but the basis is exactly the same. It's easy to say 'I should never need to look externally for this kind of thing' and that's fine, and in some relationships, it is true. But why does EVERY relationship have to be that way? What if you can look externally for some excitement? And it doesn't put the main relationship in jeopardy? Look, the whole point of having vows to stop this is to avoid temptation, to avoid putting yourself in a situation where love might blossom where it shouldn't, right? To prolong the length of the relationship. If you can get to the same place in a different way... what difference does it make?" "The difference, Jesse, is that it still can fail. Just saying it won't doesn't mean it actually won't. It's like putting a bowl of milk in front of a cat and expecting it to not take a drink. She's already broke the rules once, what's to stop her doing the same again? How can you trust her when she says 'oh, its just physical, don't get worried' and then wanders off to some other guys bed?" "Well", admitted Jesse "nothing really. Apart from the post-nup. And knowing I'll be gone the instant I find out, and I will find out. I'm forewarned now. I'm looking for it now. She got away with it before because I totally trusted. I don't any more, at least not in that way – at least not for now. But mostly, because we've already been there, and she's already discovered that she doesn't want anyone else for a life partner. Just for a sex partner. For a couple of hours. I found the same. While it's exciting to be with someone new, do the whole dance and mating ritual, discover what they look like naked, I don't really want to wake up with someone different very much. I like what I've got. As the old saying goes, I've got steak at home, but once in a while, a big mac is kind of a nice change of pace. And I get to have both, with no repercussions." Sam still wasn't having it. "I still don't think this is everything you say it is, Jesse. The bottom line here is that the woman cheated, and in response, you've thrown open them barn doors and now she's free to fuck anyone she wants. Guilt free. That doesn't seem like a smart reward for cheating? Besides, she came and wanted this only four months after she got busted. Red-fucking-flag. I respect you, and your smarts, but if it were this easy, more people would be doing this than they are. Society wouldn't be so down on it. I wouldn't be sittin' here wonder what is wrong with you." "Well, I can't speak for society, Sam, but it seems to me that a lot of society also thinks that all gay men are HIV positive, all black people are lazy and Christianity is the one true religion. I don't think society has all the answers here. I think personal intimate long-term relationships are far more complicated than a few vows at a service, and infinitely more complex than the surface rules society puts on what they need to be seen to be in public. I mean, we live in a society that promotes Catholic Priests – men who have no experience with women, marriage or long-term intimate relationships whatsoever, no training at all in this area, people who've dedicated their lives to an invisible all seeing friend in the sky, who never actually shows himself or does a damn thing to prove he exists - and deems them the people you should go talk to when you have marital difficulties. That hardly seems like society has its act together when it comes to making the rules. "The reality is, my relationship with my wife, and hers with me, is whatever we deem it to be. Not what society and popular culture has decided it should be. As long as we agree on the rules, and we don't hurt anyone else with what we decide, I could really give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. If it works for us, who is society to judge that?" "Yeah, I get that. Unconventional relationships aren't bad necessarily, but lets be honest Jesse, you arrived at yours through cheating. That can hardly be the greatest of foundations to build an all-new relationship on. Let alone one as risky as this. And, I am not saying what anybody should or shouldn't do. I am just worried about you. I think you are playing with fire, Jesse. I don't want to see you get burned." "Well, yes, that's a fair comment. You aren't wrong. But the thing is Sam, without this new situation, I don't know that there would be any relationship. It might well be that we are going through the motions, that we are doomed to fail. That she will find someone who excites her more than me. Or makes her cum in a way I don't. But.." "But what about that, Jesse? Aren't you taking a massive risk on that? I mean, what if that does happen." Jesse took a long sip of his beer, and drained the glass. "I think you really believe when that happens, Sam? Another beer? You look like you could use it." "Sure, yeah. My round though, isn't it?" "Don't worry about it. It'll give you time to call Janelle and give her some tidbits, won't it?" Sam had the grace to look guilty, then pulled out his phone, put in on the far end of the table, and made a pantomime of sitting on his hands. "Seriously though Jesse, this is... momentous stuff. I don't know how you can be so fuckin' casual about it." "I'm not casual about it at all Sam. I'm just...well part of me is laying this out there for you as a way to ensure I've got it all straight in my head, you know? I think –I hope - I know what I'm doing, that I've thought it through, but if I can respond to you, then I know I have. Ya dig?" Jesse smiled with the last statement, and then gathered up the empty pint glasses and strolled off to the bar. Sam sat there, thinking intently about the revelations so far. So many conflicting thoughts rushed around his head, and he desperately tried to make mental notes about them, in order to raise them with Jesse. It was so obvious to Sam that this experiment Jesse had embarked on was doomed to failure. It was obvious to him that Jesse hadn't really gotten over the affair, and was doing anything he could to keep her around, up to and including letting her fuck other guys. His close friend was a cuckold, and was accepting of this, and as his friend, he couldn't let this stand. Sam had to see that, he had to make his friend see it. Jesse was at the bar, waiting for a refill on the beers, and his thoughts were on how to make Sam see that he'd considered the all angles here. That he'd thought long and hard about this, how he and Debra had discussed her – and him - having occasional other partners. How they had plans in place to keep their intimate relationship intimate with just each other. That while technically he had been cuckolded, so had she. That this was a choice that both had made and so far, it was working out. She had her old smile back, all the time, and how much she worked to make him happy – more than ever. And that wasn't just guilt, it was done out of love. Of gratitude that he allowed her this freedom and his trust in her that it wouldn't undo them; that she would remember who her chosen husband was, and similarly, that he would do the same. Opening Arguments He had to make his partner understand that he hadn't suddenly gone off his rocker, or knuckled under because of some ulterior motive on the part of his spouse. That he wasn't desperate and agreeing to anything, in order to retain a part of his spouse's affection. The beers appeared and he gathered them up and walked back to the table. "Ready for round two?" he joked to Sam. Sam shrugged. The evening had sure turned out differently than what he had been expecting. He'd expected a tearful and then angry Jesse, and instead, he'd got a deep discussion about the meaning of marriage, and what commitment really means. "Ok, so lots more questions. Or statements, take your pick." It was Jesse's turn to shrug back. "Go for it. If I can't answer them, then yeah, I need to rethink this, obviously." "What if it doesn't work? What if she – or you – finds someone that makes you happier? What happens then? How do you judge that, even? At what point do you go 'We need to stop doing this'?" "Weeelll... good question. Not one I have a prepared answer to. I dunno really. I guess when you feel like there are warning signs?" "What, her desire to fuck other guys is not a warning sign????" asked Sam, incredulously. "Yeah, well, when you put it like that, without context, sure it is. But you do have to have context. That's like saying 'We should execute all murderers' without defining what a 'murderer' actually is. Look, when you are ready to propse to a girl, you know when you think its time to pop the question, right? There are no 'rules' for when you do that, right? You do it when it occurs to you that it's the right time. When a whole bunch of things come together in focus and you think 'yep, I'm ready for this'. Right? And I'm presuming that the same happens when you decide to divorce." "Or have an affair," interjected Sam. Jesse sighed. "Really? We down to cheap shots now?" "Well Jesse, you gotta admit. She ran around on you. Showed you and your relationship deep disrespect. That's a bitch of a thing to deal with. From someone you are supposed to trust implicitly." "I don't disagree with you, Sam. But I'm trying to make a general point here, not a specific one. If I said, 'sure, you are completely right', then my marriage would be entirely done and we'd all have been hurt and upset and eventually, hopefully, healed and moved on. I – we – didn't do that. We decided to make a change, and so far, it's working. Now, if it's your belief that what she did wasn't over come-able, then ok, you believe that. I do not. I'm still married, she still loves me, I still love her, we are still a couple. Your belief on whether I should have stormed out, or kicked someone's ass is immaterial in that situation, because this is about what I did, not what you think I should have done. If you can't see past that, then we are pretty much done with this conversation, yes?" "Ok, well... I'm not sure we see this the same way Jesse, but ok. Lets move on. You say that you are still married, and she still loves you. How do you know that? How can you trust what she says any more? She's already betrayed you?" "Well that, Sam, is a really good question. I grappled with that too. Going forward she did everything she could to prove that she was where she said she would be, locationally, to prove she wasn't doing anything else. Do I trust her like I did? Honestly? No. Do I want to? Yes. Will I get there, to the point of pre affair trust? I don't know. I hope so. But one thing I realized recently is that trust is a choice. At least it sort of is. When you don't trust someone, that's not a choice. You can't make yourself trust someone if you explicitly don't. But if you are in the middle, trust is the act of being conscious about it and saying 'I'm going to trust you.' That whole republican Reagan bullshit of 'trust, but verify' is bullshit, because trust is all about not verifying. That's the entire point of trust. But I want to trust her, so I'm moving in that direction. Am I 100% successful in that? Not right now, no. There are consequences for betraying someone, particularly your spouse and it's stupid to think there are not. But at the end of the day, we'll never get back to where we were unless I actively give her the chance to earn it back, right? Do I trust her completely? No. But that's what the post-nup and the other conditions are about, to produce conditions conducive to her wanting to earn that trust back. Not that I think she didn't anyway, I think she'd have given up her left boob to have the opportunity to earn it back. But this... it codifies it somewhat. Gives me something to hold onto. Gives me some of my self-respect back. "But I didn't answer your original question. About when she finds someone who is more skilled or bigger than me. Someone who makes her cum harder. The thing is, Sam, that's kind of the whole point of the exercise. I'm trying not to be afraid of that. The point of the exercise is for her – and me – to go out there and possibly experience that. And to trust that if/when she gets it, - or I do – that it doesn't trump all the rest of our relationship. If what she says is true of what happened with her brief affair, then it won't, because she's already seen the value of our relationship, and that has very little to do with how hard she might cum on any given night. "If she does find something that makes her cum hard, then she brings that knowledge back and we work on it together. " Sam considered what Jesse said, as he took another drink. He found that instead of visceral reactions, he was starting to think about this in a more clinical way. He was still reacting to some statements without much thought, letting his "I be MAN" brain speak first, but some of what Jesse was saying was interesting stuff, when considered dispassionately. Not that he agreed, but it was an interesting discussion to get into. "What if it's something you can't match? A big cock or a curve in the cock, or a young man's stamina?" "I dunno, to be honest. I mean, she has the same issue. What if I suddenly get all turned on over a long or deep snatch, or huge tits, or some woman can deep throat me more than Deb's can? It's two sided. Most people just concentrate on the dick thing, because we guys have enormous emotional ego wrapped up in our bedroom performance. But women worry too. Deb's isn't an eighteen year old with abs you can bounce a quarter on, either. The thing is, Sam, people change over time. Your desires, wants, priorities, they change anyway. One day you wake up and suddenly can't deal with the snoring any more, then what? "That's not to say that we have the answers for everything. Just that I hope – we believe – that our relationship is worth more than a curved cock that hits her G spot, or the ability to deep throat a sausage. We are definitely taking risks here, but at least, so far, the rewards are out pacing the risks." Jesse stopped to have another beer, and then suddenly held up his hand as Sam started to speak, holding him off. "Before you go any further, I should say, I don't think this is for everyone. At all. Most people are very brainwashed into what a marriage is and what it should be. Society has set up the way too simple rules of what a marriage is, or should be, and we all measure ours against those group standards. You must be "In Love" at all times, romantic, never cry, make your wife feel like she is everything, and she can never be tired and always put your career first and all the rest of that bullshit. The way most people perceive marriage today is like a bad 1950's TV show. If they think about it at all. "It's all entirely unrealistic for todays world, man. It just is. They can't see beyond that. Or have the emotional maturity to handle something like this. To be clear, it's not like we aren't aware of the emotional risk that we are putting ourselves in. That's why there are time limits on being with someone, no weekends and things like that. You aren't building an emotional relationship, you are building a purely physical one. Most people aren't able to separate the two, and that's fine, because it's not like it's unhealthy if you can't. That's just how some people are made. I mean, look at you." Jesse gestured at Sam. "You are obviously reacting against most of what I'm saying here. You can't conceive of a situation where you would share Janelle, right? It would be an affront to everything you believe in, that a marriage and a long-term commitment is, right? I get that. And there's nothing wrong with that point of view. It would not work for you, and that's fine. I'm not trying to make out that we are somehow more evolved in terms of what a relationship is than you are. Not at all. I respect the hell out of you and your marriage and the relationship you have with your wife. Nor am I trying to persuade you that what we are doing is 'the one true way'. It's not. It's just working for us, because of the doors that inadvertently got opened by Deb's affair." This statement provoked an immediate response in Sam. "What about the emotional impact? I mean, you cannot, for a second, make me believe that you are fine and dandy when you know she is out getting laid. That you have no problem when she comes home all sweaty and covered in some one elses cum, and has to kiss you with a mouth that was on some other guys cock a hour earlier? I mean, come on Jesse? I don't mean to be rude – well, maybe I do -, but where the fuck is your self respect?" Jesse sighed and looked directly at Sam, almost challenging him. "Yeah, I knew at some point it would come to this. The appeal of the man to another man. Look Sam, I don't own her, ok? The way you are talking you'd think your wife was someone you dragged back to your cave by the way of her hair. We aren't cavemen any more. So much of a relationship these days really seems to be about demonstrable possession. 'You can't do this or that, because it reflects badly on me'. It's not about what the other wants to do, but about perception of how it reflects on them. You think I have no self-respect because I'm not 100% in the same camp as you when it comes to defining what self-respect actually means? "Look, to answer your other point first, sure, yes it bothers me when she's out having a dalliance. Yeah, it would affect any guy, I know. But this is about me giving something to her, not just about how I may be feeling. My feelings are just as important as hers, which is why when she comes home, she's already showered and douched. Not that I'm likely to want to have sex with her right then anyway. I mean, would you? But she wants to cuddle, to know that our relationship is still there. And she has to do the same when I've been out and had my fun. It's a two way street. She sits at home when I'm out sowing my oats. I don't do it as much as her, but still, I have no doubt she has her moments of self-doubt when I'm out too. You put on the TV, have something to do, try not to think about it too much. "We don't talk about what she's done very much, unless there is something of importance to know. Although I will say this. One thing this does do is make everything new someone tries with you suspect. So, we are in bed, having fun, she suggests some new position or something, the first thing that goes through your mind is 'where did she learn this?' – and this is a bit destructive. The first time that happened, the mood totally went out of me. We've learned though. Now she'll say 'I just thought of this, what do you think about this?' and if it is something she's learned away from home, then she'll tell me about it when she comes home, rather than in the moment. So far, it's only been a couple of things, but hey, it's enough. "Oh, I should have said, another rule is this 'nothing for anyone else that she hasn't done with me first'. I'm not about to get her ass after some other guy. That would smack of disrespect, and I'm not about to deal with that, and she knows it. She already walked out of one guy's place for him disrespecting me, and she made no bones about it. "What we give each other is a gift, and it needs to be treated like that. She gets to play away from home, and I get the same. But it only works with respect. Sure, she's not won the gold medal in that recently, but that's why there are a bunch of rules and policies put in place to ensure she toes the mark. Believe me, she's on thin ice, and she knows it. If anything, the ice is thinner than it's ever been. But she wants to skate, and it costs me nothing to let her." "How can you say that, Jesse? How can you say it costs you nothing? She's Giving Away What Was Only Meant For You. Sex is intimacy. Some one else is out there smirking about you. Asking why she needs to go find it elsewhere. I mean, how do you answer that to yourself?" Sam was genuinely interested in the answer. He couldn't imagine a situation where he'd put up with that for a second. Jesse took his time answering. "Well, I don't know. What do I care what some random guy thinks about me? I know who I am. Debra knows who I am. You know who I am. My parents and my brother know who I am. All the people who matter know who I am. What do I care what some human dildo thinks? Sure, that gets trotted out while I'm around, he's going to get flattened. But otherwise, what impact does it have on me? Frankly, I'm way more concerned that a play partner for her turns out to be a new client for us. Now that, I think is way more worrisome." Sam hadn't considered that. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully, "Yeah, that impacts all of us." "Right, but then the exact same thing could happen if I were single, or you were. I mean, it's not like this kind of thing could never happen. But still, she's under strict orders to find playmates that are not likely to come into our orbit." Sam shrugged. "I hope that's enough." "Me too," grinned Jesse. "Look, we are still together, I get to play too. You seem to be focusing on the whole 'I let her play' thing. This is a two way street, although the same rules about playing too close to home apply to me too. I get to participate... well, yeah, that was badly put. We aren't doing threesomes, and if I get a fucking whiff of someone else's cum on her, she's done, and she knows it. It's in her interests to make sure that doesn't happen. She's out of the door with nothing if she does." Sam took another deep drink, considering everything. He was surprised that he'd gotten over his initial revulsion and was considering the whole thing more as an anthropology experiment than anything. It was nothing he'd ever consider – no way. But it was... well, fascinating wasn't the right word, but there was a certain rubber necking interest involved in hearing about how Jesse and Debs were making it work. "I don't know Sam. I can't help feeling you're heading for a cliff. I know I couldn't do it. I'm not made to share. Janelle even looks at another man and I'm going to take his fuckin' head off and then throw her ass out." "Right, I get that. Jealousy is a big part of what I have to deal with. Frankly, I don't enjoy the idea of someone else playing with my toys. I don't get off on it, like some guys. I don't want to know about it, unless there is something I need to know. But I try and get on with it, and treat it like an elaborate game of volleyball. The more time goes on though, the less upset I get. I wouldn't say I'm ok, in a green eyed monster kind of way but I've made my peace with it in terms of this is something we can do and be ok with each other." Sam had another question he had to ask. "What if you have kids? This whole thing still is crazy to me, but if it's just the two of you – it's just the two of you. But what if it's not? Jesse took a deep breath and replied. "We talked about that. I worry about it. We do want a family. If Debra gets pregnant, we stop. That's what we agreed to. And then we discuss it one a year – on our anniversary. Maybe we will want to do it again, with more rules to protect the kids. Look, Sam, since we started this we have met other people who have unconventional lifestyles, and yes I am admitting this is unconventional – it's that, but I don't think its wrong. And some people have kids, and they make it work. And a lot take a long sabbatical when the have kids. We will deal with it. We. Debra and me." Sam looked at Jesse sideways and said, "Well, I have to ask one more thing. You sure there's no desperation in this? I mean, look at it from my point of view. You say she had an affair, and instead of throwing her cheating ass out, she now gets to do it, with your permission. I mean, you can see how that looks." "Yeah, I know," said Jesse, chuckling lightly. "Looks like I'm a wimp, right? That I'm buckling under. Well, Sam, you know me. What do you think? You think I'd go with that? That I'm a henpecked husband with a wife who doesn't respect me?" Sam sat still. This answer was deceptively simple, but would have far reaching impact. He did know Jesse. He knew he wouldn't put up with this kind of shit. So there was only one answer really, despite what he thought it looked like... "No, Jesse, I do not," he said, simply, looking Jesse in the eye while he said it. "I do not, for a second, imagine you are some kind of shitty hen pecked wimp. I can honestly say I don't really understand this at all, and that it's 180 degrees from what I consider a good marriage to be. But... as you say, this is your marriage, not mine." "Good," said Jesse, just as simply. He held up a drink for Sam to clink, which he did. "Look, I'm not trying to convert you to our unorthodox approach. I know this isn't what you imagine a healthy relationship to be, but... it works for us. I'm no different than I was yesterday or the day before. I don't expect you to suddenly want to swap wives or anything else like that. This is a separate thing, and to be honest with you Sam, I don't really want to talk about this again, because it doesn't have anything to do with our professional relationship, yeah? I expect you to talk to Janelle about it, but please, make sure she understands that this is a private thing between me and Debs, ok? And if she see's her again, well, understand what she is looking at. Hell, she might see me with someone else. Same rules apply." Sam nodded, thinking 'Jesus, Janelle and I are gonna have a hell of a conversation when I get home.' "So, now that's all out there. We good?" asked Jesse. "Yeah, I think so. But look, if you do end up having sex parties with whips and engine oil and women doing things to each other – then I want pictures, or it didn't happen, ok? We have a deal?" And then Jesse knew it was going to be ok. Because Sam's sense of humor had surfaced again.