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Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 01

By: sophist801



Note: This is a 5 chapter story and is complete. It will unfold on a regular basis and is based on a real experience (not mine). The philosophical intertwining is all me and the sex (which is less than copious) is from the caverns of my imagination. 

*

I'd made the lunch date with Margo almost 2 weeks ago. We'd been sitting at the breakfast table sipping coffee and basking in the glow of a rare morning love making session. We'd been having problems connecting, largely due to our work schedules. Me, being the kind of person who doesn't sit on things that bother me, I'd confronted Margo with, "So, sweetie, you don't love me anymore? Your head aches seem to be more frequent these days, am I being too much of a pain in the ass?"

I had a smile on my face as I spoke, not wanting Margo to get defensive, at least no right away.

Margo is my wife of 6 years. She is intelligent, great sense of humor, and has the body of a runner. When we first were married until about two months ago our world had become a little predictable, not that stability is a bad thing; it was just that the spontaneity of doing little things for each other seemed to stop.

"Silly question for a silly rabbit. You only have to look into my eyes to know the answer to your question!" Margo didn't let me respond. Her arms were around my neck and she pulled me to her with commanding force to give me one of her two minute kisses. Her eyes were closed as she kissed me, as her mouth seemed to engulf mine, as her tongue danced with my lips. It was a kiss that reassured me she did love me. It was also a kiss that made me want more! Margo was making me feel like the silly rabbit. 

That conversation was also over the breakfast table and we were both dressed and almost late for work. It wasn't until later that evening, after a bring-it-home meal of Sushi, egg rolls and sake that we ended in bed tearing up the sheets. It was an evening of what I refer to as "dirty" love making. It was "dirty" because neither of us had showered since early morning. It was "dirty" because it was a time when we never refused any request from each other. It was our time to practice the lost art of giving freely to one another without feelings of guilt or recrimination.

Margo and I were on our honeymoon on the little island of Katanduanas (located in the Bicol region of the Philippines). It was one of those five star resorts we'd come across in a glossy travel magazine where we found the little add making a spiel for people to come to the Philippines.

"That's where I want us to go on our honeymoon. Someplace where we can get a little sun, eat exotic food and fuck each other silly." It was the first time I'd heard Margo use the word silly. She had always been verbal about wanting me to "fuck her". In fact she swore more like a sailor than I did. I'm the soft spoken preacher-type who sees no reason to cuss and swear.

"I've never been to the Philippines so this will be an adventure." She'd said. "But you do know that there is no one I want to spend the rest of my life with, don't you?" I'd meant the words with all my heart. I think I may have even had tears swelling in my eyes as I spoke to my yet-to-be wife. I reasoned that if she was happy I would be happy and I was.

"Does this mean I, all by myself, will be able to satisfy all of your desires for ever and ever?" There was a glint in Margo's eyes as she spoke. "Mark, you know I will never deny you anything? So long as it is just me! No one else can ever replace you in my heart or in my bed. No one!"

Our conversation, the glossy magazine in hand and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on my soft brown leather couch, had turned very serious. Marriage seemed to be a given.

"I guess it is time for us to talk about how we will be able to satisfy each other for-ever-and-ever. We both are 27 years old. We both are in great physical shape and we both love to laugh. Making love with you is mind boggling but there might come a time when the fireworks, for whatever reason don't light up the light. How do we sustain the love, lust and friendship?" Margo crimped the corner of the page in the travel magazine to be able to find it easier later then put the magazine atop of the mahogany coffee table.

Margo then sat on my lap, pulled off her halter top and gave me one of her long, deep kisses. Only there was something less frenzied about that kiss. It was soft and deliberate yet hungry and searching. I remember responding in kind to her probing tongue as if it was the most natural thing in the world. At that moment it was natural. It was full of a lot of love and was the kind of kiss that could sustain me in the middle of a blizzard.

Did I say I loved kissing Margo?

"Matthew, I think we need to promise each other that we will always be direct and open. I think we need to promise to never deny the other anything, unless of course I am having one of my heavy periods." I remember how difficult it was to think with Margo sitting on my lap, her beautiful hand sized breasts just inches from my lips and nose. I also remember feeling my erection through my shorts pressing hard against her pubic region, still covered by her own shorts.

"I think I'm following you though it is difficult to think period! So you think that we can sustain our love and lust if we promise each other we will never deny each other anything, anytime?" Margo had leaned back slightly to look into my eyes as she spoke.

"Yes, so long as that promise is between you and me. It does not ever mean another person. I am a good Catholic girl and want God to bless us and keep us forever."

"Then we have a "covenant" witnessed by God. It is an agreement that will be sealed when we publically get married but this will be our agreement." Being the emotional twit that I am I knew I was happier than I'd ever been in my life. I was more in love with Margo at that moment when we made our "covenant" than I could ever imagine.

There was a long silence as Margo seemed to be thinking or contemplating some aspect of our agreement. It was not a time to push things and ask for sex to seal our deal. So I watched her and waited.

"Matthew, I have a question. What happens if one of us, for whatever reason, isn't able to . . ."

"Margo, we can't see into the future. I can only tell you that my life would come completely unraveled if you ever cheated on me. I am trying to imagine the emotional pain and can't do that, especially at a time when I am happier than I have ever been. The only thing you can do is imagine what it might be like to walk in on me with another woman in my arms. What would you think, feel or do? Then you will have your answer."

"Silly me, that will never happen." Margo leaned in to me very deliberately and gave me one of her heart-felt loving kisses that made ever nerve in my body go electric.

Back to present time. My right hand holds a bouquet of flowers. I'd asked the florist to put a random assortment of flowers together so there was a lot of life and color in them. I am walking into the Real Estate Office where Margo has worked for several years and wave at Jenny, the front desk receptionist. Her hand comes up to wave as she usually does when I walk in this way then it goes to her mouth. It was a gesture that seemed to be a hand covering an escaping "oh." But I didn't hear anything and didn't think about what the gesture might mean.

A glance at my watch, a watch Margo had given me 4 years ago for my birthday, to check the time. It was 12:02PM and I smiled thinking I was "fashionably" late to pick up my wife for our lunch date. I was late by a whole 2 minutes!

I glanced to my left and saw Herb Cromwell sitting at his desk. He has been with the Agency for several years and we have met on several occasions at Agency dinners and picnics. When he sees me he starts to say something but I put my fingers to my lips as if to say "quiet". I point to the flowers in my hand and indicate I wanted to surprise Margo with the flowers.

Herb nodded his understanding and turned to pick up the receiver to his phone. The light was blinking indicating he had a call.

The door to Margo's office was closed, which, for just a minute, I thought strange. Like Herb's office, her door was almost always open. I suppose she might be in a meeting?

Slowly, with the stealth of a church-house mouse I pushed the leaver on her door down pushing the door open slowly. I felt like a little-kid getting up Christmas morning, a bit too early, hoping to see a huge number of presents left by Santa Clause. Then, as a little kid, I really believed in Santa Claus.

It was the sound that gave Margo away and sent me into a state of instant paralyzing shock. I recognized the sound of slight moaning knowing what I was about to see. My mind was not fast enough to catch up to what was already happening to my heart. Before me was Margo and Stan, Stan Masson. They were fully clothed but they were locked in one of "those" long kisses I'd thought Margo reserved just for me.

I stood staring like a little kid who couldn't believe what he was seeing. I didn't even notice that the flowers I'd had in my hand had fallen to the carpeted floor. I noticed Margo's eyes were closed and Stan's right hand was precariously close to cupping her ass. Only God knows what was going through my mind as I continued to watch them kiss.

"Ahemmmm" Clearing my throat was all that was needed to alert both lovers, I was already assuming they were lovers that I was standing in the doorway to Margo's office.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Margo pushed Stan away from her as if she was the most meaningless person alive. It was a gesture that was a bit too late for me to appreciate or understand. The context of my discovery was a scene where the husband discovers his loving wife is having an affair, but all I'd seen was the lusty kiss.

I didn't wait for her to respond.

"Margo, remember our covenant? No, I guess you haven't. No matter, it is now broken and you are free to live your life fucking Stan. Good bye Margo." I didn't close the door as I walked out of her office.

"Matthew, wait, I am so sorry!" Margo seemed to frantically be screaming the words as I stumbled my way through the Real Estate office. I glanced at Jenny at the front desk to see she too was upset with my discovery, but she did not seem surprised. How long Stan and Margo had been "seeing" one another I could not tell. I'd had no clue. Did it didn't really matter? Seeing her kiss Stan in a way I believed was meant for me, well, it was just enough for me to know things were over.

Before I made it out of the Real Estate Office my mind began to kick in and I turned back to the front desk. I needed to leave a message for Margo. Phone calls and face-to-face conversations now seemed pointless at least until I could get my emotions under control.

"Matthew, I am sorry. . ."

"Jenny, please, you don't have to say anything. I would like to leave Margo a message and I need to make sure she gets it. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course." Jenny was a woman maybe 3-4 years younger than I. She was tall, slender, with bleached-blond hair that she wore pulled into a pony tail down her back. Jenny had always been almost overly friendly when I'd come in to see Margo in a semi-flirtatious way. Why was I suddenly paying attention to her?

I wrote the message on the front of a post-it note. It read, Margo, now I know how bad it feels. Whatever we had may very well be on life support. Have the courtesy to give me 24 hours before coming home. Matt.

I handed it to Jenny, not folding it or trying to hide the message.

"Matthew, if there is anything I can do, please call me." Was Jenny, the receptionist at my wife's Real Estate Office, hitting on me? My response was spur-of-the moment and made more out of anger.

"Well, Jenny, how would you like to go to the Philippines for a week?" I knew I needed to get away for a while and thought the Philippines would a great place to escape. It was also a place that both Margo and I would recognize as significant having been there for our honeymoon.

"If you are serious, of course I'd go with you. When would we leave?" Jenny scribbled her number and address on another post-it and handed it to me with a sad smile. Was Jenny serious?

I just nodded to Jenny as I slipped her address in my shirt pocket and left without saying anything further.

As I began to push the doors open to leave the Real Estate office there was a large crash, as if glass breaking. Then I heard Margo yelling, "You God dammed fucker get out!" I was already out the front door. I guessed she was yelling at Stan but it didn't really matter, not at that moment, who she was accosting.

Jenny did accept my spur of the moment invitation and we caught the red eye flight out of San Francisco the next evening for the Philippines. No, I was not about to go back to Katanduanas where Margo and I had gone for our honeymoon. There were other nice beach resorts so I decided to book a flight for Manila then a connecting flight for Boracay. I didn't know anything about Boracay but did know they had a few five star resorts. It was very strange to have someone other than Margo next to me. 

It was also odd that I chose to run away, so to speak, to that very country where Margo and I had gone for our honeymoon. It was easy to recall that wonderful trip. We ended up on the island of Verack for our honeymoon located off of the coast of Luzon about 25 miles. We'd caught a flight from Manila to the town of Legaspie. In Legaspie we caught a boat that ferried us to the island of Verack. Leaning over the side of the boat we marveled at how the blue-green water seemed so clear, letting us see schools of fish as far down as 30 feet. We'd been warned that the waters were full of sharks but we'd be okay swimming in the protected coves on the island. Margo and I did little swimming!

Margo and I were shameless the entire time we were on our honeymoon. We acted like the world revolved around we two, and for all purposes, it did. At least the world revolved on some invisible axis and Margo and I tore through bed sheets with maniacal passion. That first night we made love twice despite being jet lagged and beyond tired. We left our hotel room only for food and a relaxing walk on the beach. The rest of the time we spent lost in one another.

I remember the second day on the island more than the first. After all we had slept for 10 hours and woke to brilliant sunshine and skies that sailed beyond majestic. Margo woke me with her mouth, which wasn't unusual. She seemed to put life into slow motion bringing me to the edge only to back off and tease me. I was so raw by that time that her breath on my cock would have been enough to send me over the top. But that morning Margo had another idea I was not prepared for.

While lying on my back, eyes close, I heard and felt Margo move on the bed, a very large king sized bed. As I opened my eyes I was treated to Margo's wonderfully lean naked body. Her perfect tits were no more than the size of a softball and seemed to slither and crawl on top of me, doing her best to avoid touching me. I remember starting to speak only to be "shushed" into silence.

"It is my turn to do something special for you." Everything she did was special! Every time we kissed, held hands, or simply slept together was special.

I watched as Margo raised herself above my very hard cock and begin to rub it gently back-and-forth across her beautiful pussy. The saying "oh my, sweetie pie!" suddenly had new meaning as I watched her move atop my cock. She started moving the head of my cock back-and-forth from her wet little pussy to the crack of her impossibly tight asshole. When she did this I began to wonder if "something special" meant getting lost in her bowels where my single index finger had always seemed to cause her discomfort and pain.

I did not have to wonder very what "something special" meant because in the next instant I was halfway buried in her ass. My hands went up to caress her nipples, which seemed to extend into time with a rigidity I'd never seen. She let out a guttural "arghhhhh" that scared the shit out of me. Her right hand went to my lips as I started to speak once again saying "shusssh . . . I am . . . oh God I love how you. . . fill me . . . no, I love you . . . will always love you." Margo continued to slowly raise and lower herself on me until I was balls deep in her beautiful ass. At that moment in time I forgot about how wonderful Margo felt and gave in to deep emotions of what I believed love. Nothing on this earth, save dying and going to heaven, would ever complete me as much as Margo did at that moment. 

"Matthew? Matthew, are you alright?" Jenny was touching my arm shaking me gently bringing me back to the here-and-now.

Jenny was waking me from one of the most memorable memories of my life with Margo. My eyes had been closed as I sat in the first class seat listening to the night sounds of our jet as it transported me, us, to the Philippines.

"Yes, I am okay, thanks." I realized I'd let myself give in to hiccup-like tears, silent and almost pathetic. Imagine a grown man rattled by the memory of what he thought was a perfect love. Well, maybe the love had been perfect? Maybe it was that we, as human beings, could not always resist temptation? Maybe it was true that we all fall from the grace of God and are destined to suffer for those sins?

"Here." Jenny was handing me an embroidered handkerchief. "Blow your nose."

"Thanks. I am sorry Jenny. I never meant to pull you into my world of grief. None of this is fair and I don't want you to be hurt by a selfish me." I took a deep breath then let the air out slowly.

"Matthew, you don't know how to be selfish but I do. I've lusted after you for years and feel guilty for taking advantage of you pain." I smiled, not because it made me feel good someone else "lusted" after me, but because Jenny was being honest. I could live with honesty. I couldn't live with deception or broken covenants.

"Besides I haven't been on a vacation for three years! When you asked me to go with you to the Philippines I thought this was a great opportunity to get away. I recently finished work on an MBA and have been looking for work that lets me grow and use my degree. I am most grateful, Matthew, and will not jump you beautiful bones unless . . . unless you want me to!" I think both of us knew I would be to self-absorbed.

It was odd but I felt fortunate to have someone like Jenny, who I didn't really know, with me. It was also odd because until yesterday I had never thought about even looking at another woman. Margo had always been my life. Margo had been what I believed the perfect wife, lover, and friend.

When I turned to look at Jenny, sitting next to me in the dim cabin light, I saw the outline of a very sexy woman who would, just by being with me, tempt me to cross over the line and break my wedding contract. The problem, at least for me, was that marriage was also a covenant with God. It was a sacrament I had no desire to throw away, at least not just yet. I was suddenly feeling guilty for giving into my impetuousness and asking Jenny to "fly away" with me.

Boracay was not at all like the island of Verack. It was more a commercial resort, located south of Manila and it served more as a weekend type getaway for rich Filipinos. Jenny and I stood out as rich white folk, even if we weren't really rich. When Americans travel abroad people often think they are rich. Boracay was just what was needed for me to get perspective, to adjust to my heart-felt pain, and call Margo.

I placed the call the third evening Jenny and I were in Boracay. Jenny was off doing a little shopping as I'd sat at the bar drinking San Miguel beer, which is a very good beer. It is easy to drink, high in alcohol content and always served cold. I sat in the hotel's bar drinking my second beer when I made the decision to finally give Margo a call. It took me almost an hour after making the decision to place the call.


Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 01



The bartender helped me figure out the time difference, which was no easy feat after three beers. I don't drink very often so alcohol affects me faster than most people. The bartender was able to explain there was a 12-hour time difference between the Philippines and California. The only thing I was interested in was, knowing what day and what time it was in San Francisco. The bartender spoke pretty good English but I was having trouble understanding because of his Tagalog accent. I was thankful he was patient.

He explained that it was 8:30 PM Philippine time on a Tuesday night which meant it was 8:30AM Tuesday morning? For some reason I could not think in terms of time differences which had the bartender laughing like a little kid. I thought it was funny as well and settled for knowing it was 8:30AM west coast time either Tuesday or Wednesday morning. It meant, in my muddled way of thinking that Margo should be at the Real Estate office. So I placed the call to Margo from the bar.

"The Real Estate Office. How may I direct your call?" I did not recognize the receptionist who was most likely someone from a temp agency filling in for Jenny.

"Margo Bassler, please."

"May I ask who is calling?" The receptionist sounded old. She spoke slowly and deliberately with a formalness that was striking to Jenny's familiarity.

"This is Matthew Bassler, her husband."

"Mr. Bassler, I am sorry to tell you but she is not in the office at the moment. Would you like to leave a message?"

"Please tell her I called and will call back later."

"Very good. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you." I was about to hang up then quickly added, "No, wait! There is something else you can do for me."

"Yes Mr. Bassler?"

"Please connect me to Stan Masson."

"Just one moment, Mr. Bassler. Have a nice day and thanks for calling The Real Estate Office." I was on hold for no more than a few seconds.

"Stan Masson speaking, how may I help you?" I realized the temp receptionist had not alerted Stan as to who was calling.

"Stan, Matthew Bassler calling." I gave him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"Matthew, how may I help you?" Good, he wasn't going to hang up on me.

"How long have you been fucking Margo?" I reasoned it did no good to beat around the bush with bull shit niceties.

"Matthew, you need to believe me, I have never been any more intimate with Margo than the day you walked in on us." His answer was matter-of-fact. He didn't hesitate. I wasn't sure I believed him but wanted it to be the truth. I wanted verification Margo had not cheated on me.

"Why should I believe a word you are telling me?" I asked him. It didn't really matter how he answered or what he said, I wasn't going to believe anything I heard.

"Simply put, she loves you to death, you dumb fuck." Not words I expected from someone who was seeing my wife in an intimate way. "Sure, I would have liked to sleep with her! She is a very hot woman. She wasn't seeking anything more than a way to make you jealous, to spice up your relationship. So don't waste your time pointing your finger at me and getting indignant." No, his angry response was not at all what I'd expected. Stan was, however a bright man with exceptional gift-of-gab and was a Broker because he could read people quickly. After all, being a Broker means he was good at "reading" people, much like a poker player reads other players.

I decided talking to him on the phone was not going to accomplish much. It would put him on notice regardless of the validity of his words.

"Stan, where is she now?" I asked changing the subject..

"She took a week off after tendering her resignation. I wouldn't let her outright resign until she'd had the opportunity to talk to you. She has several clients who she has listings with that, when they sell, mean big money for her and for Coldwell Banker. We all stand to lose if she resigns now." Leave it to Stan to be thinking like a Broker. The bottom line had nothing to do with whether or not a marriage went down in flames, only the commission mattered.

"Well, Stan, you need to consider what will happen if I file for divorce and name you and The Real Estate Office as the reason for the destruction of my marriage, regardless of what you are telling me now. Am I clear?" Until that moment I had not seriously thought about divorce.

"You can't prove anything. All you saw was the two of us kissing which is unfortunate. It has caused all of us more problems than necessary. So sue me and we will see how things flush-out when the dust settles." Stan was one self-assured bastard. I did not like the man.

"I don't see it that way Stan. If my attorney deposes everyone in your office what will they all say happened between you and my wife? Think about it but don't think about it for too long, I wouldn't want your blood pressure to go up to high. If I litigate it won't matter if I can prove it or not. It will be costly. It will be sticky. It will be public. Your business will suffer and it could go on for years. So don't give me your blustery bull shit about not being able to prove anything." I disconnected the call realizing Stan was one of the most arrogant persons I knew and I would have to make good my threats. Then the thought occurred to me that he could very well be telling me the truth.

"Not good news, my friend?" The bartender was being the therapist all good bartenders can be.

"No, but the news, in a way, was informative. Seems my wife may have started this in order to spice up our marriage and test my love for her. All I can say is that she has not accomplished either of these things." If I wanted spice I'd eat a little Louisiana Hot Sauce.

"Another beer?" Another beer would put me in the category of being drunk.

"Please. And I need to make another call." I realized I could go up to my room and place the call on my cell phone but I'd turned off my cell phone the Saturday Jenny and I caught the red eye flight to Manila. I was also being lazy, wanted to drink my beer and be in a public environment where there were people. In my room I would be alone, sitting on a bed not-my-own, staring at a wall painting of a shoreline I didn't recognize.

The bartender helped me place the second call.

"Hello?" The sound of Margo's voice almost made me hang up. I realized it was a bitter-sweet sound, but so familiar and somehow comforting.

"Margo, its Matthew." I took a deep breath to calm myself.

Silence often says more than a gaggle of words. Silence, when emotions make it difficult to think, eat or sleep will command one's attention. It was not more than 30 seconds of silence that actually elapsed but felt like hours but told me she was surprised. She may have even been holding her tongue to stifle an angry response.

"Matthew, thank you for calling me." I realized she'd probably left me at least one message on my cell phone. "Are you coming home? I need to talk to you, to see you, to once again hold you and set things straight." Her voice was soft and subdued, not angry or challenging. Margo's voice was also filled with a resigned sadness that reflected how I felt.

"My return flight is this Saturday and gets in around 8:30AM. We can talk about what happened when I get back to Sacramento."

"Your flight? Where are you?!" Her sadness seemed to evolve immediately into concern and agitation. After all she had no idea I'd left the country, or did she? There was something about the way she spoke that told me she was holding something back.

"I'm in the Philippines."

"The Philippines? Where we went for our honeymoon?" I would have liked to see her face at that moment, smell her perfume, and wondered what she was wearing. These thoughts were the testosterone-driven male in me who realized she could easily bend me to her will by kissing my neck, dropping her skirt, or tossing her head casually to the side so as to fling her long dark hair across her face to and on her shoulder.

"Yes, but I am in Boracay. It would be too painful for me to return to Katanduanas. My memories of our honeymoon are too special, too perfect. I just needed time to think and to feel sorry for myself. Sitting here drinking beer I suddenly realized it was not fair for me to just disappear without a word to you. Of course it wasn't fair for you to take up with your Boss either." I couldn't resist a little dig knowing it wouldn't do anything except make her feel a little guiltier. I didn't really know if she felt guilt for what had happened?

"Matthew I know this is my fault! Do you want me to pick you up when your flight arrives?"

I let the silence invade our call as I tried to think.

"No. Thanks. My car is at the airport and you don't need to make the drive from Sacramento to San Francisco." We were avoiding discussing me walking in on her and Stan the previous Friday. Over the phone was not the place to have that conversation.

"Matthew, are you still my silly rabbit?" Yes, that was the question to be answered. Silly rabbit was an endearment she'd used many times to reassure me everything was alright.

"Margo we will talk when I get back, okay?" I wasn't sure the silly rabbit in me was there anymore.

Again, silence across time multiple time zones.

"I love you Matthew. Know that above everything. I love you and am so sorry." The line then went dead. It occurred to me that I did not know what she was sorry for.

I was thankful she hung up before expecting me to respond to her "I love you." Yes, I loved Margo, and did not have to think about how much or why, but there was that sense of exclusive innocence that was no longer there. For whatever reason Margo had not been able to resist temptation and in so being tempted she probably reasoned it would not affect our marriage.

We are human beings and have the ability to make choices that are full of good and lead to happiness. We are also capable of choosing to do things that are fraught with evil, pain and sadness. Margo was capable of reason, of making choices for good and happiness, and had chosen poorly. If she still loved me as she confessed then she would punish herself in ways I will never be able to imagine.

I paid for my San Miguel, cervaza at its best, and said my goodnight to the nameless yet helpful bartender.

"Hoy, boss, just remember you can only control the happiness in your life. Make the best of it and He will watch over you. It really is in His hands now, right?" The bartender's words resonated with me. I was a little confused, at least for a moment, who "He" was. We don't always remember to discuss things with God when everything goes to shit so He must have been God.

After the call with Margo I decided not to drink the fourth beer and went back to my room to wait for Jenny and consider the fact that I may have over-reacted big time to finding her kissing Stan. 



Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 02



When Jenny came in it was around 9:30PM, Philippine time. She was dressed in a calf length sleeveless cotton green dress. The hemline was moderately low enough to make a curious man want to see more but not low enough that she would expose herself. It was the side of the dress that was cut low enough for me to tell she wasn't wearing a bra. Wearing a bra was something she didn't really need to do because of her height and tits that road high on her chest.

I wondered why I'd never noticed her simple beauty before. Then again, I never shared a room with her before or saw her dressed in any way except business professional. For that matter, our discussions in the past consisted of me saying "Hello is Margo in the office?" She was the professional receptionist who had always kept things professional.

"It is simply too hot to wear underwear in this country." She must have caught me trying to peak down her dress. "Don't worry Matthew, as much as I'd like to fuck you blind, I will respect your need to suffer. Besides I don't ever want to be the reason you return home feeling guilty, so I'm moving to a single room down the hall." As she spoke Jenny was packing her bag and toiletries.

She was removing herself, not because she didn't trust me, she'd just admitted she'd always wanted to fuck me. I was surprised and a little flattered. After all I am a testosterone driven male.

What could I say? Jenny was clearly smarter when it came to my emotional turmoil. She knew I would not need to lie to Margo about who slept where and with whom. Jenny would be a companion for meals and shopping. She would listen to me if I needed to think through a thought or emotion. We would share a sight-seeing adventure and that was all.

It was Thursday and Jenny and I had just finished a meal. We decided to see a pirated film that was playing in a funky bar in what probably was the red light district. Jenny was interested in the bar from a "business" perspective explaining how she might learn something as she looked for work where she could use her newly earned MBA. I'd heard that the movie Oblivion was playing so agreed to sip a San Miguel and get cool.

The MBA business perspective was something I didn't understand and made no sense unless she was planning to move to move to the Philippines and open up a bar.

Once we were in the bar, enjoying the air conditioning, Jenny disappeared after about a half hour. She was getting into a conversation with a couple of ex-patriots who were sitting at the far end of the bar. When I finally looked around for her I saw her sitting in a high-backed booth with the two ex-patriots and three Filipino dancing girls.

The scene was surreal and immediately held my attention. I became a voyeur, of sorts, and could not take my eyes off of the unfolding scene in the booth. All three of the dancing girls were topless and seemed to be having the time of their lives trying to get Jenny to take off her lose fitting peasant blouse. The ex-patriots appeared to be in their early fifties and both needed a shave. I guessed by the tattoos on their arms they'd been Marines who decided to retire in Boracay.

The dancing girls were all touching Jenny, feeling her long dark hair and picking at her blouse as if it would magically fall off. The men were buying drinks for the girls and Jenny, who looked like she was drinking hard liquor. When one of the men reached over and slowly pulled Jenny's blouse down one shoulder I thought she would slap him and pull her blouse back up.

Jenny just laughed and looked at her bare shoulder and the blouse that seemed to rest at the top of her nearly exposed breast. I have to admit I was getting turned on by the scene in front of me and had forgotten all about the pirated movie playing behind me. I realized as I watched Jenny that should someone pull or push the remaining part of her blouse off of its shoulder, she would be topless and exposed for everyone in the bar to see.

I was curious to see if Jenny would let it happen. Would she expose herself?

I didn't have to wait much longer as one of the dancing girls sitting on Jenny's left, the side where her shoulder was already bare, seemed to move close enough to whisper something in Jenny's ear. Whatever it was Jenny laughed. The dancing girl sitting to her right then pushed her hair back and slid the remainder of her blouse to the side. I watched as the material slid to her waste and the dancing girl lowered her head to kiss Jenny's neck, then her exposed nipple. Her nipples were long, hard and clearly belayed how excited she was.

If it hadn't been for the sound of a noisy sound system and the large flat screen TV behind me, the bar would have been silent. I noticed everyone seemed to be watching the show that was unfolding in the booth where Jenny was the star. As much as I wanted to see what would happen next a part of me realized Jenny had come with me because she cared for me. She'd started out as my protector but now was playing the role of the seductor.

Before I knew what I was doing I found myself standing beside the booth waiting for Jenny to open her eyes, to look at me. When she did a languid smile seemed to come across her face. Without making a scene she kissed the two dancing girls sitting on either side of her then winked at both ex-patriots before pulling her blouse back up to cover her exposed breasts. Yes, they were devilishly beautiful breasts not too big but large enough to tell everyone she was very much a grown woman.

It was hard to hear because of the sound system. Meaningful conversation was impossible but everyone at the table seemed to understand that Jenny was with me. They let Jenny climb out from behind the booth, taking my hand in the process. Then she wrapped her arms around me, kissing me full on the lips. It was a semi-long passionate kiss and I could taste the orange juice and vodka, lots of vodka, on her breath.

"Thanks." Was all she said into my ear as Jenny's arms went around my waste, letting me lead her out of the bar. "Take me home kind Sir and make sure I get tucked into bed safely, okay?"

When we exited the air conditioned bar we were greeted by the evening heat and humidity which, oddly, felt good.

Once we were back at our hotel I walked Jenny to her room, not wanting to go in with her, not wanting to be tempted by her beauty. But she would not let me go, insisting I put her to bed, just to make sure she was "safe." Once inside the room Jenny let all of her clothes fall to the floor. With shorts and blouse on the tiled floor she was gloriously nude and clearly one of the most desirable women I'd ever seen. Was she seducing me?

She tried to pull me into bed with her but I managed to resist, kissing her forehead before pulling the sheet up to her neck. Even her neck was beautiful!

"Good night Jenny." I whispered in her ear before turning to go back to my room. 

"Good night Matthew . . . I told her she had nothing to worry about . . . I told her so."

Who had Jenny told what to? Did I hear her right? Was she talking about my wife Margo?

Before I left Jenny's hotel room I thought I heard Jenny snoring softly. I wondered why Jenny had really come with me. It was puzzling, unless she was here to also test me? But why would Jenny need to "test" me? Was she really working with Margo? Had I been set up as part of an elaborate way to see if I was faithful to my wife and marriage?

I decided I did not like my line of thinking. It was the kind of thinking that caused depression and anxiety. Once back in my room I gave into my own exhaustion and slept. San Miguel was proving to be a wonderful sleep aide.

Fried duck eggs, garlic rice, heavy pancakes made with Chinese flour, mango syrup, calamansi juice (similar to lime), and rice coffee all tasted very good. It helped I was famished after days of not eating right and long hours of mental anguish as I tried to figure out what had gone wrong between Margo and me.

I was half finished with my breakfast when Jenny joined me. She was wearing a pink tank top and loose fitting short sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned. Jenny was casual but fashionable. She was an enigma I probably would never understand. There were things about her I would never comprehend, and that was okay.

"Jenny, it has been wonderful having you here, even if it has meant sleeping in another room. I do, however, need to ask you something and I'd like you to be honest with me."

Jenny looked a little puzzled as she sipped her rice coffee and nibbled on a fried pastry. Don't ask me what the pastry was. Yet she was also smiling.

"What's on your mind?" Jenny had discovered the plate of ripe papaya, mango, water melon, guava and pineapple and was beginning to eat with her fingers. In the Philippines eating with your hands is referred to as Camayan and is perfectly acceptable. I don't think I will ever get the hang of eating steamed rice with my fingers but Filipinos have it to and art.

Watermelon and guava juice ran down her chin to drip on her clean tank top. She hadn't noticed so I didn't say anything.

"Jenny, you and Margo are friends, yes?"

"Ah, huh. I've known her for 5, maybe 6 years."

"That's not the question. I want to know if you two are the kind of friends that share confidences and engage in hushed girl-gossip designed for each other's ears only."

Jenny used her clothe napkin to wipe away remnants of fruit juice that had collected on her chin. She then looked me square in the eye before speaking. I could tell she was debating what to say or at the very least how to say something.

"I won't lie to you Matthew, we are very good friends and I have been reporting to her every night." I wanted to be indignantly angry, but wasn't. There it was confirmation. It also reinforced her Boss' assertion that Margo was "testing" me, trying to make me jealous and spice up our marriage.

"What the fuck does reporting to mean?" I knew what it meant. I just needed to hear it from Jenny.

Food was no longer of interest to either of us. I pushed my plate of half-eaten duck eggs and longonisa to the side to give Jenny my full attention. I think I was upset but not angry. Maybe frustrated and hurt?

"Matthew, there is no need to get upset. Relax. We talk every night. I tell her you are okay and that you have been a gentleman. Yes, that means I have affirmed that you have been true to your wedding vows." I knew I'd been true to my vows. That wasn't the real question.

"One last question Jenny and no bull shit response. I need to know the truth regardless of how painful it is. Has Margo cheated on me with Stan?"

She did not hesitate. Jenny leaned across the table and said, "No, she has been painfully faithful." I wondered if Jenny was lying. "Even her kissing Stan was a set up to see how you would respond. She had not forgotten your lunch date and took advantage of the timing to see how you would react. Jenny wanted to know if you would fight for her love. She believed your marriage was getting a little complacent, you know, routine. Jenny was also beginning to feel old and taken-for-granted. She thought kissing Stan was a harmless way to find out how much you loved her."

Jenny stopped speaking as I sat back in the comfortable restaurant seat, slouching. I was trying to figure out which had felt worse, seeing Margo kissing Stan or knowing she was doing it to "test" my commitment to her and our marriage. "Matthew, no one has been hurt and I think you love Margo more than you know. I also think Margo completely misjudged what you would do. You also need to know I warned her that what she was planning to do could backfire on her." Jenny was trying to reassure me that everything would be okay but this additional information raised more questions and concerns.

"Jenny, I guess I see things very differently. But I need to ask you something. Would you have fucked me the other night, before we moved to separate rooms, if I'd come on to you? When you came on to me were you prepared to consummate your lust or was all of that simply part of the test? Where were you supposed to draw the line and say, sorry Matthew but fucking each other is something I can't do?" Jenny was suddenly not the self-assured travel companion who had listened to me poor out my mental anguish, anguish I'd believed was very real.

Jenny sat back in her seat. She fidgeted and looked out the window where it was already 95 degrees with humidity of near 100%. It was going to be a very hot day.

"Come on Jenny; let's go back to my room. I've changed my mind and want to lick, kiss and suck on long hard nipples." I was now the one testing Jenny, testing her resolve, testing how far she would take things. Jenny turned her head to look me in the eye and glare the look of an angry Banshee. "Jenny, save the angry look for someone who might actually believe you." From the look in her eyes she was hurt. Too bad.

I was angry and hurt with both Margot and Jenny, who'd I'd confided in and felt safe with, would conspire to test my resolve. Without further conversation I signaled our waiter who immediately came to our table with the check, which I signed with my hotel room number, then tossed then pen on the table flippantly. The waiter did not deserve to be treated with that kind of disrespect but the gesture was designed to let Jenny know conversation time was over.

I left Jenny sitting at the hotel restaurant's breakfast table. When I walked away I was lost in thought about how Margo had doubted my love for her and decided to test it. What ever happened to talking about what bothered us? That evening would be the last night in Boracay before catching the red-eye flight home tomorrow, Saturday. I was more than ready to get back to the States even if I had no idea what had really happened to my marriage and I wouldn't know where my marriage stood until Margot and I talked.

I flitted the day away by walking around Boracay, eating Satay prepared by street vendors and stopped to see a movie-theater movie (don't ask me what the move was, it was Filipino-made and in Tagalog). It was more a way to hide and get away from the heat of the day. I was clearly not looking for conversation and did not want to see Jenny wondering what she might be saying to Margo. I was back in the hotel before the sun went down and ordered room service for water, San Miguel and a shrimp salad.

Then I gave in to the need for sleep not bothering to undress of slip under the pressed cotton sheets. It was a pounding knock on the door that woke me around 5:30AM. I tried to ignore the pounding until I realized whoever it was had no intention of leaving me alone.

I was mildly surprised when I opened the hotel room door to see Jenny, wearing a short terry cloth robe. Her face was scrubbed of all make up giving her a little-girl look that, under other circumstances, would have been a sexual turn-on. I was, at that moment, seeing Jenny as Margot's ally and accomplice.

Jenny didn't wait for me to respond, not at first, speaking. Instead she jumped on me wrapping her legs and arms around me causing me to stumble backwards and fall onto the bed. In the process of falling on me her robe opened revealing her gloriously naked body. When she saw me try to speak she lowered her mouth to mine and began to kiss me. It was a hungry, horny kiss that was more demanding than anything else.

I gave into my anger and hurt and began to respond to her kiss. My kiss was hard, forceful and demanding. It was not a loving sexy kiss but one that was full of anger and frustration.

It was also difficult to ignore how good she felt as she lay on top of me.

"No regrets Matthew. What we do now does not go beyond your door but I need you and I need you now!" Jenny seemed to kiss me, curl her body around mind and undress me all at the same time.

Time stood still as I gave into my own anger-driven lust. It was easy to flip Jenny onto her back giving me access to her exposed body. Without thinking I covered her pert tits with my mouth, sucking angrily at her long hard nipples until she yelled acknowledging the pain. Simultaneously I pinched and pulled her exposed nipple making no attempt to be gentle. What we were doing was pure un-restrained animal.

By the time my mouth, leaving a trail of saliva from her breasts, across her stomach to her perfectly shaved pussy, I was in frenzy. I was a shark that had come upon a school of docile fish. It was time to feed! I shot my tongue between her tight labia where I encountered resistance. Resistance? It was a natural resistance, the kind of resistance that comes from a membrane, a wall, that had never been breached by boy, man or dildo. Jenny was still a virgin? Was this her way of making peace with me? I didn't carry on my inner dialogue. Time for anger and mind-games was over.

"Matthew, make me feel complete." She whispered her words in a throaty, guttural way.

With the knowledge that Jenny was giving me something very rare and precious I slowed down and began to concentrate on making it one of the best experiences of her life. I began to make love to her softly caressing softly caressing and kissing her entire body.

"She said you were the absolute best lover." Again Jenny was guttural and throaty as she held my head in place as I kissed and suckled her perfect tits. For a moment I thought about Margot bragging to Jenny about our sex life wondering if it was all true.

With Jenny still laying on her back I knelt between her long, muscle-tight legs. Lifting them over my legs let me sit on my feet and guide my cock to the entrance of her virgin pussy where I rested the erection atop her clit, moving it back-and-forth gently. I was no longer in any hurry, wanting this to last as long as possible.

Soon I was caressing the entrance to her vaginal walls, relishing how she seemed to moan and toss her head each time my cock touched her, there. I must have teased her like this for at least a half hour before her guttural whisper said, "Please Matthew, fuck me! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!"

I very slowly eased into her very wet and warm pussy with steady pressure until I felt Jenny yield, felt her vaginal walls open then close snuggly around me. I was not touching her with any other part of my body, focusing on the single act of entering her for the first time. Once I was all the way inside I stopped all movement to give Jenny time to adjust, to begin to move beneath me. What she did from that moment on would tell me how to proceed.

Jenny did not have me wait too long before she began to buck against me. I needed no further encouragement and responded. 

"Cum in me Matthew!" Her throaty voice was almost horsed as she pulled me to her. I don't think I'd ever cum so much as I did that first time with Jenny. With her long legs wrapped around my waist I wasn't going anyplace and had no desire, for the first time since walking in on Margo and Stan, to be anyplace else.

It would not be until much later that our combined blood, sperm and her sexual discharged christened the bed. I hoped there was thick padding beneath the sheets then decided it didn't really matter. No one had died. In fact, just the opposite had occurred. In many ways the act liberated me from thinking Margo was the end-all. For Jenny, she was now free of virginal constraints that had kept her from pursuing relationships for many, many years.

Yes, Jenny and I made love two more times before showering. We'd ruined the once pressed cotton sheets making our last day in the Philippines most memorable and very satisfying. If nothing else my anger seemed to have abated significantly and I had no idea what Jenny now meant to me but being given the gift of her virginity left me feeling, well, good about myself. I was also wondering what Margo meant to me? I decided that, at that moment, it didn't really matter.




Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 02



Both of us slept on the flight back to San Francisco, pleasantly exhausted from making love all day Saturday. Jenny did not speak about our day and I believed she would never tell Margo or anyone else for that matter. It was now a matter of me being able to live with the fact I had been the one who had cheated. It was ironic that Margo had started this to test my commitment to her and our marriage. .I failed her test, for certain, but it was an after-the-fact failure that I'd remember until I died.

Now I wondered whether or not Margo had always been true to me. After all I would never have believed anything or anyone would cause me to seek the arms of someone other than Margo and that is exactly what had happened. Forget the fact she'd chosen to do something that I believed hurt me beyond words, I still would never have believed I would slip. I am reminded of the saying that we all have a price.

As our flight was taxing up to our gate, Jenny leaned over and kissed my cheek then said, "Good luck Matthew. I honestly hope everything works out for you and Margo and know this; I will never do anything to hurt you and my friend. My final report to her will be to tell her she would be a fool to do anything like this again. More than that, I will let her know that your love for her has always been something special, something few people ever realize in their lifetime." Then Jenny leaned back in her seat and smiled as she looked straight ahead.

At that moment I thought I could love Jenny just as much as I'd loved Margo. A week ago I would have been adamant that it wasn't possible to love two people as intensely as I'd loved Margo. Maybe I just loved Margo with less intensity? Maybe I was realizing that loving someone didn't mean you owned that person? Whatever the "maybes" were, my feelings for Margo had changed and my steadfast commitment to her was, well, no longer steadfast.



Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 03



Landing at the San Francisco airport was very strange. The airport, and San Francisco, was shrouded in heavy dense fog. It was as if the City-by-the-Bay was protected by the low-to-earth bubble of cool comfort or had suddenly vanished. Coupled with the late afternoon winds San Francisco had rightfully earned the description that it is the coldest place to spend a summer.

The drive to Sacramento would take Jenny and me a couple of hours once we made it to highway 101 and across the Bay Bridge to highway 80. It was a drive marked by silent and personal contemplation. I have always been the king of person who becomes introspective when confronted with life changing situations. My introspectiveness was much like the Buddhist Monk who chants, the same chant, over-and-over until his mind sees and hears nothing at all. An unintended consequence of this kind of meditation is the ability to not remember much about our drive to Sacramento.

Jenny seemed relaxed and dozed in the passenger seat for much of the trip. I was too full of my own thoughts and questions. As it was my "introspection", also known as daydreaming, was a distraction that had me drifting off onto the road's shoulder. The feel of gravel jarred me back to the task of driving. When this happened Jenny put her hand on my arm and asked if I was okay.

Okay as compared to what? Compared to a week ago, yes, I was okay. Okay did not mean great, it simply met I had no reason to complain about simply being alive. If that was the case then why did my chest feel constricted when I breathed? Where had my sense of humor gone and why did I feel tense? If I was drifting between these emotions, was Margo, my wife, my love, also experiencing these same things? I was experiencing what I call early-onset-loss due to depression associated with loss of a loved one. I was simply sad as I anticipated the death of my marriage.

"Any last words of advice?" We were in front of Jenny's apartments and I'd just sat her single bag in front of her.

"Matthew, your heart is all the direction you need. Just pay attention to your heart and know I will always be here for you . . . as a friend and shoulder to lean on." Jenny then kissed me, picked up her bag and disappeared into her apartment. Jenny could never be just a friend. I held no illusions about Jenny. There was no way I would ever turn to her again so long as my marriage was intact, even if it was on life support.

By the time I pulled into the driveway of my home, the house I shared with Margo, the only thing I could do was tell myself to breathe and be as fair as possible. I wanted to be as fair as possible for all of the wonderful years we have shared with one another.

When I opened the front door and walked in, I noticed music coming from our family room, where Margot spent most of our time when home. It was a part of the house that was comfortable and safe. Everything there we shared from photographs to the flat screen TV. There was no "mine" or "yours". The den was where I found Margot, wearing a pair of loose fitting jeans, an un-buttoned flannel shirt (one of mine) covering a spaghetti-strap held purple tank top.

Margot was reading a very thick paperback.

I stood watching her, waiting for her to see me, waiting. When she looked up from her book, more as if she was stopping to reflect about something she was reading, she saw me standing there.

"Matthew!" Margot tossed the book to the tiled floor, jumped off of the leather couch and ran to me, literally jumping into my arms. She didn't say anything else as she threw her arms around my neck and proceeded to kiss me long and hard. "God, I've missed you so much!" Then she was kissing me again with the passion of a woman who was greeting her first lover, her only lover.

We never made it to the bedroom. Margot had my clothes and her clothes off with practiced speed that I think I was dizzy. Yet, even as I let my body make love to Margot there was something I held in reserve, a hesitancy. I wasn't blaming Margot or anyone else, I had simply changed. My outlook on life had grown into something I didn't really recognize, at first.

Margot noticed my hesitancy but didn't say anything. I was home and that was all that seemed to matter.

We hadn't really talked since I'd walked in the door. Like a dog that hasn't eaten in several days feeding is the first thing that needs to be addressed. We'd just fed each other, sex. Now we could get on with the unraveling, the analysis of what had happened and why. The time for testing our commitment to one another was, now, whether Margo thought that way or not.

"Matthew, can you ever forgive me for being so stupid?" We were both arm-in-arm, naked, basking in the after-glow of satisfying sex. Margot was asking me about forgiveness as my cum seeped out of her.

"For being stupid, yes, but . . ." We all do stupid things. So I felt I didn't need to finish my thought.

"But what?" Margot was probably right about following up with her question. From this day forward there could be no room for misunderstanding.

"What you did was not just stupid; it was cold and thought through very carefully. You even had to time things just right so I would be walking in the door as you were lip-locked with Ted. It is easy to forgive stupidity but you knew I was picking you at noon that day. You shattered my belief that we had, as close as humanly possible, a perfect marriage where love and trust were not an issue." Margot did not respond as she put her hand on my chest and laid her head on my shoulder.

I was also distracted by how good her body felt against me. I could feel her hard nipples jutting into me with all of the natural pleading of a young lover. In the past feeling Margot next to me would be enough for me to believe we were the only people on earth. Now, well now I'd shared my bed with Jenny. Now I realized that "perfect love" had nothing to do with ownership, commitment and honoring one's vows. Now, I believed all of the psychological reports that indicated men and women see their relationships very differently.

"Oh Matthew what can I do to convince you we do have a perfect marriage, that I love you and want to have your babies." Margot, as she had done a thousand times before, began to caress my balls and penis in a way that was almost absent minded and without thought. It was natural and often leads to a second round of sex. It felt good and made me feel like I was important and cared for. There was still a little bird chirping in my ear that loving me wasn't enough for Margot. Saying she wanted my babies made me feel good, like a peacock ruffling his feathers and cawing with delight. After ruffling my feathers and cawing what was left?

If she wanted to "convince" me of the depths of her love it would mean a good dose of anal sex. I would soon know just how far she would go to "convince" me of her fidelity and her love. Fidelity and love are, of course, two different things but fit together nicely.

I'd read a journal article some years back about how mothers who displayed their love for their infants would caress and massage their testicles after a bath or changing their diapers. Margot often did this on those rare occasions when we showered together or sank into the recesses of a hot bath. Was Margot doing this to comfort me, to make me feel safe and loved?

"Margot, I won't lie to you but I believe something has changed between us." It was almost a stupid statement. A lot had changed between us. "What we had was, in my eyes, perfect to the point of being sacred. I never had any reason to question you about anything . . . so long as I knew our love was safe. Don't misunderstand, the sex we just shared was "comfortable", felt wonderful, but I no longer feel the security, the safety, I did before last week. As a result the passion seems to have fallen by the way side. You played it "comfortable" rather than letting your passion drive you."

It is as if the beautiful innocence of what we had is somehow sullied. The depth of our passion now had the seasoning of hesitation, doubt and fear. Maybe I was also learning, gaining a bit of insight and wisdom?

Stopping to let us both reflect on my words I focused on how Margot continued to scratch my chest and pull my chest hair slightly. Caressing my balls and scratching my chest hair were gestures she'd done naturally ever since I'd known her. I was getting upset with myself for beginning to analyze every little thing Margot said or did, and the analysis of our loving actions was enough to harm our marriage, which was a strange feeling."

"Matthew, I don't know what else I can do." Was she really saying she didn't know what would happen once I knew the truth? If the truth was different from what Margo was telling me? Her lips and mouth, her wet sex, were powerful forms of distraction and misinformation. She had a way of making me believe I was the only one who had ever been in her life and for Margo, this may have been exactly how she felt. I was now questioning, in my mind, everything.

"Nothing, Margo. If we've made mistakes we need to learn from them move on. I also know we need to speak clearly to one another in order to communicate thoughts, feelings, and desires. And, on this one, I can't tell you what to do to make things right and full of passion. For more than 6 years I've believed our marriage to be full of love and passion. All of that is now in jeopardy, isn't it?" I didn't need an answer to the rhetorical question. Margo took the question as just that, rhetorical and not requiring an answer.

"In the meantime my plan is to fuck you like a silly rabbit, whenever, however and wherever you want." I was still her silly rabbit? In that moment I realized being her silly rabbit, though endearing, was a way to minimize her in my eyes. It was a thought that didn't make much sense but resonated. Rabbits take, in average, 17 second to orgasm and move on. When they do copulate they recover almost immediately to fuck again.

The image of rabbits running fast, and then stopping for a second to turn and run in another direction, for apparently no reason, came to mind. Rabbits looked silly starting and stopping then starting to run again. Did Margo see me as a 17-second fuck? It wasn't at all true but I wondered.

Margo took her silly rabbit statement as a cue to move her chin off of my chest and let her tongue slickly slide over my skin to engulf my slightly recovering cock. Her warm wet mouth seemed especially hot as Margo began to give me one of her mind-bending blow jobs. I loved the feel of her mouth but the feel of her touch was not the nerve-tingling mind-bending source of love and passion it had once been. What she was doing felt good but it was somehow, mechanical?

Margo, what if I said to you I didn't see myself as a rabbit or as silly? She was performing fellatio, designed to please me, but it lacked passion. She was doing a good job but then again a prostitute does a masterful job of getting her john off quickly. After all, time is money, yes? The passion was replaced with a semi-comfortable desire to please and be accepted. Was Margo fucking someone else? Who was the image she held in her mind, Stan? If that was her image then her standards had dropped significantly and Stan had a foot long cock that was always hard. I didn't believe either case was true.

No! I screamed at myself as I realized Margo had not changed! Margo's passion and willingness to love and please me was ever present. The understanding, the realization, that I could only be responsible for how I felt and what I gave to others, seemed to hit me hard. When the thought entered my mind I lost all interest in Margo's wonderful mouth, her soft and probing tongue, and the way her lips formed the perfect seal round my softening penis.

But the doubt was now ever present.

"Matthew? Am I doing something wrong?"

"No, Margo. It's me. I guess I am just tired from the flight and all of the tension of the last week. I will be okay." I was lying and didn't want to be hurtful. For years Margo had been a wonderful wife and lover. At that moment I could easily have blamed her for my apparent erectile dysfunction but I would have been lying again.

"If you say so Matthew . . . you will always be my silly rabbit and I love you beyond reason. It is my love for you that drives me crazy sometime." I was beginning to dislike being called her silly rabbit.

I wasn't feeling guilty for my afternoon with Jenny, the tall beautiful Jenny. I was, however remembering that afternoon. Jenny had reset the standard for what passionate love making was all about. The realization that I was now damaged goods damaged much in the way an individual is who shoots heroin for the first time. The euphoric high becomes the center of the individual's universe. For the heroin user all it takes is one "fix", one injection into the blood stream, and the individual's world changes forever. I wanted more of Jenny; something I knew was not possible at least not as a married man. I wanted more of the one thing that had the possibility to destroy my world.

Jenny had become my opioid of sexual satisfaction and everything else would pale by comparison. She had replaced Margo as my ultimate sexual standard. Jenny was the forbidden fruit for me, a married man. The irony was that Margo trusted her with her husband, me. The irony of my situation did not minimize the truth. I also knew I would never again betray Margo's trust again, at least not as long as we were married. My fear was that, between Margo feeling a need to test my commitment and me actually giving into Jenny's virgin world, I was destined for an existence filled with anguish and heart ache.

A couple weeks after getting back from the Philippines I got off work for an early lunch and decided to visit Margot. In the back of my mind I was hoping to see Jenny, to at least hear her say ""hell" when I walked into Margo's Real Estate office. So I was disappointed when I was greeted by a strange face, a new receptionist, not Jenny.

"Yes? How may I help you sir?" The new receptionist looked to be in her early fifties, was well dressed and very professional.

"Hi, I am here to see Margo Bassler please."

"Who may I say is calling?"

"I am Matthew Bassler, Margo's husband."

The receptionist had dialed Margot's extension before she was speaking to me.

Mr. Bassler, do you want to leave a message? She isn't answering her phone."

I thought for a minute. I had seen Margot's car parked in her assigned spot outside. I also noticed the door to Stan's office was closed, as it was when I walked in on Margot kissing her boss. Could it be happening again? Could Margo and Stan be involved in a real affair? Sure I'd been distracted with my own short comings the last couple of weeks and wasn't tuned into Margo as I have for years.

Inside I reasoned it would be better not to know if Margo was still involved with Stan. Yet, I knew I needed to verify what I was instinctually thinking. I turned to walk out, feeling cowardly, then turned around and walked straight for Stan's office.

"Mr. Bassler?" The receptionist asked as I casually, at least as casually as I could, walked by the receptionist desk.

I did my best to smile as I continued walking and shaking my head "no." Inside I was reliving the stolen kiss, the lost feelings of passion, and the anger I'd felt when I left the last time I'd visited the Real Estate office. The only difference between then and now was that Margot did not expect me to be visiting today.

When I got to Stan's closed door I stopped, feeling my heart beating. My palms were sweating and I was breathing in short, shallow breaths. Many of the things I was experiencing were similar to a post-traumatic stress response. Putting my hand on the door knob I took a deep breath as I realized seeing Stan and my wife lip-locked a second time might actually be a good thing. It might give me the impetus, no so much the justification, to leave my marriage. At the same time I realized that seeing Margot with Stan would emotionally hurt like hell.

There was no turning back. I could hear Stan's phone ringing from inside. Turning my head I could see the receptionist watching me, her phone receiver to her ear. She was calling to inform Stan I was at his door. So I turned and waited for the phone to stop ringing then I opened the door and walked into his office praying like hell I would not find Margo behind the door.

I realize God doesn't necessarily answer prayers for power or material things. God gave us the Beatitudes as a way for us to care for the sick, dying, hungry and homeless. God wants us to love one another as we love God, first. Praying helps us remember what is important in life and avoid temptation.

I opened Stan's door realizing it was not locked thinking that was good. After all why would he be fucking an employee like Margo without locking his door? At least what I saw was not as rattling as the scene of the two of them lip-locked in a passionate kiss. What I did see was Margot quickly sitting down on Stan's couch. Stan was doing his best to get behind his desk, but was a little late. He was in the process of pulling his pants back on, exposing a pair of purple stripped speedo-type underwear. I had to chuckle, a sick chuckle, wondering if she was the fucking rabbit.

A glance to Margot revealed her in all of her scared-shitless beauty. If ever there was an expression of someone whose hands were caught in the cookie jar, it was on her face. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone and her skirt was still hiked a little too-high for my comfort.

As I stared at her I noticed she seemed to be about to break into tears. At least there was a little remorse left in her. If it was remorse it probably was also coupled with a shit-load of embarrassment and shame. I'd been back only two weeks! It was then I realized time had nothing to do with catching them, again. I reasoned Margo and Stan had probably been having an affair for quite some time I just had no proof, no hard evidence.

I also reasoned Margo probably had forgotten I was going to visit her three weeks ago and used the "test" as a way to hide the real affair.

"Margo, what can I say? You two no longer have to sneak around, do you?" I just shook my head as I turned to leave then turned back around to face Stan. "You are simply a piece of shit! So you want to do this in court or do we be civilized? Fuck being civilized, we will work this out in court." I stopped not wanting anything on the record that said I ever threatened Stan.

When I looked back at Margo she had broken down in tears. It was all a little too late and, for me, I realized I'd gotten my wish. It was more than enough for me to justify getting myself free from the marriage. "You know Margo I never, even after walking in on you kissing Stan three weeks ago, thought of you as a whore. Guess we can all be wrong about people, yes?"

I was blowing smoke with Stan. Macho men do this all the time when they feel their manhood has been challenged. Stan was no challenge to my confidence, my self-esteem and my ability to function in this world as a man, a husband, and a member of civilized society. At the same time I had no room to throw stones, did I? I'd committed adultery as well and had no room to be critical, to point my finger at Margo and Stan.

There was no energy in me to get nasty. Stan was a middle-aged over-weight asshole. For Margo Stan was not a matter of doing better it was a case of slipping into a world of sick shit characterized by living a decadent life where redemption is not possible. Who am I to talk about redemption?

As I walked out of Stan's office I noticed the receptionist was at the door and probably had heard most of the conversation. She was doing her job. I had acted with respect and now Margo was on her own, or with Stan, or whatever. Except I knew Stan was married. I was a little amazed that my intense feelings of passionate love for Margo had died in three weeks. It had taken a mere three weeks to drive the stake into our hearts and toss our bodies to the side of the road.




Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 03



No, I didn't try and find Jenny, nor did I think about running away from Margo. I drove to what once was our home and wondered how things could go so wrong so fast. I did wonder how long Margo had been having an affair with her boss and how I'd missed the signs and symptoms. I missed the signs and symptoms because I hadn't seen any and Margo had so masterfully gone back to fucking me silly. Like the silly rabbit she had learned the art of fucking hard and fast only to suddenly stop all movement and simply use her vaginal muscles to squeeze and hold me firmly imbedded in the depths of her beautiful pussy.

A half hour after getting home I heard Margo's car park in the driveway. Yes, I was a little surprised, wondering why she decided to come home at all. I no longer had any expectations of her? Why was she home?

"Matthew? Matthew, where are you?" Was Stan that casual an affair that she thought she could simply come home, drop to her knees and then expects everything to be A-OK.

I was sitting on the back porch watching the grass grow when she came in. This means I was licking my wounds and feeling sorry for myself.

"There you are. You need to know I quit my job then called Martha, Stan's wife, to tell her about how Stan had occasionally been getting into my pants." Occasionally? What the fuck does casual fucking mean? Was confessing to Stan's wife supposed to make things all better? Margo was far too casual about her affair with her boss. She was making it sound like it was no-big-deal as she tried to downplay her infidelity. Occasionally was as close to a confession as she'd ever give me.

"I told her I'd testify if she needed me to, should she divorce Stan, that is. Then I hurried home hoping to find you, to convince of my love for you, and explain my need for you! Oh, Matthew, please, please, please help me make things up to you! I am so sorry this all happened but can explain. You see, it all started . . ."

I'd raised my hand to stop her from rambling on and on like a person suffering from ADHD. Margo did stop and stood there looking at me her eyes questioning and head tilted to the side. I looked at her incredulously knowing she had no idea how her occasional dalliance damaged what she and I had shared. Then I began to wonder how many dalliances she'd had over the years and thought there was nothing wrong with what she'd done.

"Matthew, please let me explain! I did it for us, you need to believe me. There was never a moment with Stan I enjoyed, never. He was never a threat to you, especially where sex is concerned!" I did it for us was salt in the wound bull shit. Was she doing it for money? It wasn't my manhood that felt threatened. It was the attack on me, born out of a misguided desire for, what? It certainly wasn't love.

"No need to explain anything Margo. No need. I don't think I give a shit any more, let alone believe you. There is nothing casual about fucking around on someone you say you love and supposedly care about. I have no desire to revive what we once shared, especially since it must have died a long time ago. I just never realized our marriage was leaving with the evening tide. So, please, don't waste your time trying to explain something that is moot to begin with. Okay?"

"Matthew, are you giving up on our marriage?" Sure, put it all back onto me. It wasn't going to work that way.

"Giving up? Let me ask you Margo, how many times will I need to sleep with another woman to balance the scales? How often will I look across the breakfast table and wonder what happened to the Margo I married? How am I ever going to convince myself you gave yourself to your arrogant over-weight boss then came home to tell me you loved me and only me? As I said Margo I don't need the details of your affairs or reasons why you felt it necessary to fuck other men. The only thing I'd like to know if why?" As human beings we always want to know why someone did what they did, or didn't do. It asked for a subjective response that could be fiction or fact. I think I just wanted to know what she would say in a curiously sick way.

"Matthew, the only explanation, and this is going to sound self-serving, is that occasionally being with other men helped me appreciate and stay passionate with you. You have always been the one to please me in ways no one else ever has. So, I guess you could say the occasional dalliance was done for you and our marriage. We always were the ones to benefit. It made our marriage stronger and helped me sustain my passion for you." Margo looked at me square in the eye when she spoke these words telling me she believed what she was saying. I knew it was also a rationale answer to my question. She actually believed what she was saying, which floored me.

"Here is the kink in your explanation Margo. You were the only one who directly benefitted from your affairs. It may have helped you explain your passion, but it was at the expense of keeping your affairs clandestine, in other words, secrete. As soon as I knew what you were doing my love for you began to whither. My respect for you began to slip. . In reality you needed a way to test me by having other lesser affairs to remind you about how good you had it with me."

Then the reality hit me hard, very hard. Margo had never needed to test me because she knew I was faithful and loved her beyond reason. I was her safe place to go when she needed love. Testing me was simply a way to put things back on me, to make me question my self-worth. I'd been duped by someone I loved. Testing me was Margo's "cover".

"Matthew that isn't true! I have always loved you first!" Then she loved others second, third and fourth?

"It really doesn't matter Margo because now that I know what you have been doing I am going to give you cart blanch permission to be with anyone you want anytime. You just will not have me to come home to for passionate love at the end of your day. Now that I know how little faith you have had in me, well, your punishment is to not have me at all."

"Matthew, what does that mean, for our marriage?"

"It means our marriage is nothing more than a piece of paper. It means I will no longer be available to hold you at the end of the day. I will no longer be available for long juicy kisses as we lay in bed snuggling after making love. It also means we will no longer be having sex of any kind. It means we may be living together but we will no longer be planning vacations together or going out Friday nights or meeting with friends for barbecues and ballgames."

"Are you divorcing me?" Margo seemed fearful this was the expected outcome of the marriage. It was, however, a logical action step.

.

"Not today, Margo. Not today." I stood up and stretched the stretch of a weary man who still loved this woman but was no longer going to be available to confirm, at the end of the day, that I am a worthy husband who can meet her needs for passion. Besides that, marriage is one of the Seven Sacraments so I saw no good reason to break yet another covenant.

Okay, so I was being hypocritical. I was guilty of adultery also and was sure I would meet other women to fill Margo's once very capable role. Jenny had shown me that passion does exist elsewhere. Shit, it should never be a "role" to please your spouse; it should be an obligation we do out of genuine love.

"Not today? Does this mean there is hope we may one day put this all behind us?" Did Margo really believe there was a chance to put this all behind us? No, that is the wrong question. Did I want to believe our marriage could possibly make it?

"I won't promise you anything. I won't ask you for anything except to pay your share of the expenses. You are free to file for divorce and move on with your life at any time. I only ask that you not bring your lovers into our home and I will respect you in the same way." It occurred to me that what I was doing would be hard on me as well.

I did not move out of our bedroom and neither did Margo. At first it was strange to slide into bed with someone and offer them no more than a "goodnight, sleep well" before turning out the light. We became housemates who had a fairly positive history, until she decided to "test" me one Friday. Now our marriage was faced with the test-of-all tests. How things ended I could not tell but I was not optimistic. Hoping would not make things right. 

Margo quickly found work at another Real Estate office and seemed to throw herself into her work, which was a good thing. The real estate market was beginning to pick up and many of her old clients sought her out and followed her so building up her business wasn't too difficult. Her job required her to work almost every weekend, when I was off, to do open houses for her listed homes.

We were in a relationship that revolved around our work, sleeping and eating. I was polite when around Margo but indifferent. Without the affection once shared as man and wife, as lovers, my ability to tolerate being around her became a challenge and probably doomed from the start. The existentialist would say we were creating our own hell which was our punishment for living a life of sin was to be forced to live with one another. In the back of my mind I believed I was punishing Margo when in reality I had put myself in a sort of purgatory. Margo is not stupid, even if she had become an adulterous bitch, so she began to do things to taunt and tease me.

It only took a few days of no touching-kissing-sex for Margo to begin to do things to tempt me. She began wearing sexy shear nighties to bed after taking a shower and making sure she smelled delicious. When home she would dress provocatively, not trashy, but provocatively. She would wear soft pastel blouses without bras, unbuttoned nearly to her navel then Margo would find a way to bend over me when at the table to make sure I got a good look at her naked upper torso, her beautiful tits.

I knew what she was doing. She knew I knew what she was doing. She did her best to be a sexual tease trying to break through my armor, my indifference. My indifference was, however, strong. I wore it with firm civility. I was also able to fortify my resolve by conjuring up the image of her kissing her boss, Stan, or the imagined image of his fat ass fucking Margot with perverted glory.

Then it became easy to not fall to Margo's temptations. It wasn't just the temptations of her body I learned to resist. Margo did her best to be home for evening meals she would prepare with great care. Even when having to work an evening she went out of her way to pre-prepare a meal, such as meat loaf with carrots and asparagus that could be put in the oven to finish browning. It was clear Margo had begun her campaign to prove she was a good wife who loved her husband and was willing to do anything to demonstrate her love and faithfulness. 

It was maybe 3 weeks after I'd begun to simply "live" in our home without showing any signs of affection that Margo raised the stakes, at least from her vantage, in her campaign to win my love and confidence. Dressed in baggy shorts, a lose fitting halter top and a thigh length plain white pressed apron, Margo leaned across the dinner table, looked me in the eye, and said, "Matthew, you know I only belong to you. These tits belong to you." Her hands went to provocatively lift them high on her chest. "This ass will never have anyone's cock there but yours and this mouth will never suck anyone's cock but yours. " Margo was growing into a servant temptress doing everything to tempt me.

Yes, I wanted to believe her. Wanting to believe, believing and knowing the truth are all different from one another.

My problem with her statement was simple. I just didn't believe what she was saying even if she believed her words to be true. I knew how sex had been important for our marriage. Sex had been, at least for me, how I demonstrated my love for my wife. Margo had never held anything back making sure we spent many hours each week, sometimes in a single day, fucking each other until we couldn't walk. In my mind I was finding it hard to believe Margo was not getting her sexual needs met somehow, some way, apart from the time we spent living as "house mates." It was the silent cynic in me who now knew Margo had already gone outside of our marriage to verify how good a lover I was or was not. She had already admitted to setting up "tests" to verify my commitment to our marriage.

I also had no idea what was fact and truth. Because I wanted to believe Margo and distrusted her there was little chance of me discovering the truth? I was afraid the truth would end the possibility of ever reconciling my love for Margo. They call this being fucked-up.

It was in the fourth week of my self-imposed no affection or sex living arrangement that a few things began to change, at least for me. I started going to church Sunday mornings to the 7:30AM Mass. Rather than linger in bed with Margo, as we had done for years, almost always ending in wonderful morning sex, I began to fortify my resolve by going to church. Mass at the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament, especially at that early in the morning, is quiet, peaceful and emotional. I was learning to see the power of prayer. At the same time it was a time to lose myself in the way the sun came through the stained glass windows.

Okay, so there were other benefits to attending early Mass on Sunday morning and they came in the form of sanctified bait. Sanctified bait? Yes, the kind of temptation that sits alone in the second from the front pew, her long black hair neatly tied behind her perfectly shaped head adorned with a perfect nose and deep dark eyes. The sanctified bait was oriental, I was guessing of Vietnamese or Chinese heritage. So I started going to Mass to see this mysteriously beautiful woman, to watch her out of the corner of my eye. Without consciously thinking about it I was beginning to formulate a way to meet her, which, in a parish as big as the Cathedral's, is not always easy.

The second week I attended Mass Father Riley announced there would be a raffle held following Mass to benefit the homeless and that coffee and pastries would be served. On a whim I decided to contribute to the fundraiser and have a much-needed cup of church coffee. Armed with a cup of coffee served in a small Styrofoam cup I stood at a small table purchasing 5 one dollar raffle tickets.

"My name is Phuong To (pronounced, Fong Toe). You are?" The voice was angelic, but did not come from an Angel. It was the mysterious Asian woman I'd vainly tried to watch while in Mass the last two weeks.

"Matthew. Matthew Bassler." The first words greeting between two strangers often decides whether any further communication occurs.

"So you are named after one of the Apostles?" I'd turned to look into the eyes of the woman I'd been watching from a corner of the Cathedral.

"Please call me Matt. I can assure you I am no Saint." I was pocketing my five raffle tickets not really caring about winning anything. I figured meeting Phuong was more than I could have hoped for.

"Well Mr. Matt it was nice to meet the man who finds me a distraction to prayer." So she had noticed how shamefully I'd watched her during Mass. "Maybe I will see you here again next week?" I would make every effort to be in church the next week.

"Yes, I will look for you next week." There was no smart-ass follow up or attempt to take her out for coffee. Maybe meeting someone in church was okay after all, I didn't know. "I am from Vietnam. Good bye Matt." I watched Phuong walk out of the Cathedral and wondered how she'd known I was wondering where she was from. Was I that transparent?

The next week I almost did not make it to Mass, having forgotten to set my alarm so walked into Mass just after the Priest and Eucharistic Ministers had processed into the Cathedral. Things with Margo were also beginning to move away from the let's-see-how-long-he-can-hold-out to one of increased tension and frustration. Margo was becoming more-and-more agitated and less communicative. I was beginning to believe she might be checking up on me to see if I was seeing someone for sexual release. At that point I didn't really care what she did.

"Matt, where are you going so early on a Sunday morning?" Margo had rolled over in bed, raising herself up on one elbow to ask her question.

I was in the process of trying to dress quietly and get out the door to make it to the Cathedral before 7:30AM Mass started.

"Mass. I started attending again a couple of weeks ago. You are welcome to join me if you want?" Margo had never been very religious so I never really expected her to attend with me. Yet, for just a moment, I wondered if she might anyway.

"Matthew, are you sure you wouldn't rather come back to bed?" Margo had pulled the two thin spaghetti straps off of her shoulders letting the baby doll nightie to fall exposing both of her beautiful breasts. Yes, Margo, still my wife was doing her best to tempt me.

"I don't want to be late Margo." I smiled as Margo lay back on the bed making no attempt to cover her exposed breasts. I didn't want to be late, not because I was in a hurry to pray but because I was hoping to see Phuong.

As I quietly walked into Church, just after the processional hymn, I had a feeling, an unformed thought that Margo might check up on me. It was a kind of premonition that at first caused me to look around the Cathedral to see if the feeling might be true. Then I shrugged telling myself it didn't matter if she did follow me to church, I had not been inappropriate with regard to Phuong or anyone else. I was, however, giving into something called concupiscence. I was letting myself be tempted, which was shameful and indication my relationship with Margo was failing to meet basic needs. I still had not crossed the line but had been tempted by a pretty face.

I sat through the Mass and did not see Phuong until walking up to the Altar to receive Holy Communion. That was when I saw her, almost peripherally, sitting in a pew that had been blocked by one of the Cathedral's support pillars. My hands folded in supplication I walked back to where I had been sitting, a slight smile on my face. I was strangely happy to simply know Phuong had been at Mass. My smile did not disappear as I looked to the back of the Cathedral, past the Baptismal Font, to where the closed doors to the vestibule were. In one of the glass windows was a face, a single face, peering into the church.

Keeping my head slightly bowed and hands folded in respect I walked back to where I'd been sitting, alone. Seeing Margo's face through the windows into the vestibule told me she had not believed me when I said I was going to early Sunday Mass. Seeing she told me she probably had always needed to check up on me, not because I ever gave her any reason to doubt or suspect me, but because of her own actions that had been filled with deceit and infidelity.

When Mass ended and the Priest had processed out of the church I stayed sitting in my inconspicuous pew thinking. I wasn't even looking around to see if Phuong was exiting the Cathedral. I sat in contemplation wondering where my marriage had gone in such a short time. I was having one of those personal conversations with God as I looked for a little light to give me direction and maybe a little hope.

I'd been sitting for not more than three or four minutes and most of the sparse parishioners had ambled out when I felt rather than saw her sit down next to me.

"Why isn't your wife with you?" Phuong was more insightful than I'd thought or I was just more transparent than believed.

"I don't really know." I continued to hold my gaze on the front of the Church. My life with Margo needed resolution before I chased after Jenny or the mysterious Phuong To.

"So you come to Mass to punish yourself or are you seeking answers?" Punish myself? Ah, for my indiscretion with the beautiful, once innocent Jenny? Was I then trying to punish Margo for not having had faith in me? Jesus, who am I to be judging what others do or don't do?!




Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 03



"Probably both. I also have been coming to Mass hoping to see and talk to you." I was facing the front of the Cathedral. Phuong was sanctified bait and not a threat to my marriage, what was left of it.

With that thought I turned to my left to look at the long raven haired Phuong, only to find that I was sitting alone. Looking around I realized I was the only one in the Cathedral but felt more at peace than I had for almost two months, at least since I'd walked in on Margo kissing Stan that fateful Friday. If I could let go of my judgmental need to punish Margo, and myself, would I be able to set myself free of my painful heart?



Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 04



I'd been going to Mass for almost three months. No, Margo never did join me and I don't think she ever came to the Cathedral to check on me again. Nor did Margo and I ever talk about her "checking" up on me. Maybe she felt a little Catholic guilt? Regardless she seemed to be genuinely okay with my Sunday morning Mass and I did benefit from the clarity it gave me. It gave me clarity in that I began to heal my personal wounds and reconcile personal guilt.

It was Pentecost Sunday and Father Riley delivered an emotional Homily about the importance of moving our eyes from the skies to beginning to get on with the evangelic work of Jesus and his Disciples. Father Riley was near tears as he exhorted parishioners to raise themselves up to work for God without fear of being persecuted by modern day Romans. For those of you who are not familiar with Pentecost it is the time when Jesus, several weeks after being resurrected from the tomb, ascends into heaven and the Holy Spirit descends, as it did for the early Apostles, onto all of us.

Persecuted? I had never felt persecuted! Maybe not in the strict definition of the word but I had been beating up on Margo and myself. "You each have a choice." Father Riley was walking into the congregation to be personal, something I'd never seen him do. "You each have a decision to make. You can continue to keep your eyes on the heavens waiting for Jesus to come again or you can look around you and do something for your neighbor. The freedom to choose rests within each of you! Don't miss the opportunity that is at your feet." I had never thought of emotional pain as an opportunity but then any change in our life can be an opportunity, at least until we die.

"You have the choice to remain stuck in judgment of others or embrace His commandment to Love your neighbor as you love God." Did I love Margo as I loved God? I was struggling with the concept of loving God let alone loving my neighbor! If I couldn't love Margo did that mean I didn't love God? It was a conundrum I had no answer for.

I had not made any decisions to that point in my life. All of my decisions had been decisions born out of distrust, fear and a desire to exact punishment. They'd all been made with the intent of punishing someone I once loved without question. The problem had been that I'd judged them based on what I thought was true and what I wanted to believe. I'd always thought Margo loved me and gave that love only to me. Sounds selfish to hope someone would love you in return to the same degree you loved them.

I wasn't thinking the opportunity was to choose Jesus or to continue to live a non-Christian life. I just needed to make an honest choice about what I wanted to do with regard to my marriage. No, I would not seek a divorce mainly because I believed you only marry once only to find someone else and marrying again. Divorce had never been part of the plan, at least not part of my plan. Had I become boring? Had I become so judgmental that I would never reconcile with Margo? Did I mistrust her that much? Did I mistrust myself?

Five months or more, had passed since I'd walked in on Margo and Stan, kissing. Since her confession I have not touched her but I have not divorced her. I'd believed loving her again was not possible. So it came to pass that one Sunday, after I'd gotten home from Mass, I found myself cooking breakfast for Margo and I. I'd had a "moment" during Mass where I found myself sitting back in the pew seeing what I was doing to Margo. I wasn't punishing her or trying to make her feel all-the-more guilty I was the one now testing her to see if she if she could remain faithful. I was testing her resolve to stay married. I was also testing myself to see if my love for her could transcend the mistrust.

After all, I wanted to believe Margo, didn't I?

When I got home from Mass I could hear her in the bathroom upstairs taking a shower. I needed to talk to her, honestly talk to the woman I'd married so many years ago.

So I started cooking. The smell of bacon filled our home. Sliced papaya with lime was on the table and fresh coffee was brewing. I'd just put a frittata in the oven knowing it would be ready in about fifteen minutes. I'd also poured 2 glasses of apple juice and was sitting at the kitchen table when Margo joined me.

"What is all this? Our last supper?" I rarely fixed breakfast so this was a surprise and you never really know when your last meal will be.

"Nope. It is just breakfast." Margo, being Margo, was suspicious, especially after five months of no physical contact.

"Why am I suspicious?" She sat down taking a sip from her coffee. It was one of the first mornings in a long time when she was not dressed seductively.

"Because, well, because I've been an unreasonable asshole. I've missed you and thought it time we figured out how to get our shit together. Got any ideas?" We had not had a two-way conversation for the last five months and here I was attempting to move towards reconciliation. I also wanted to begin to atone and reconcile the mistrust, fear and love I still held for Margo. In other words I wanted to begin the process of healing the rift that had developed between Margo and myself.

"You're leaving me aren't you?" Didn't Margo hear what I'd just said? I was a little surprised wondering where her statement came from, and then tried putting myself in Margo's place. The reality of five months of no sex or affection had taken its toll on both of us.

"No, Margo, I am not leaving. . ."

"You don't need to lie to me. Be honest with me at least this one time! You've jerked me around long enough and I am at my wits end!" There it was, a side of Margo characterized as an ungrateful fearful bitch that projected her "stuff" onto me.

"Margo, what just happened!? I'm not lying to you or jerking your chain. I'm trying to admit I've been an asshole and want us to find a way to reconcile things between us." Margo's eyes seemed to be two burning coals of mistrust which floored me. I felt like I was swimming in quicksand and had no idea what got me, us, here.

"You know what just happened! Your girlfriend is having your baby and you don't have the fucking courtesy to tell me!" Had Margo lost her mind?! Now I at least had some inkling as to what was bothering her even if her allegation was from outer space. I just had to figure out who this "girlfriend" was. The thought crossed my mind that it might be Jenny she was referring to but I had my doubts. Jenny would be 5 months along, if it was her. There was also the fact I had not seen her in five months, which didn't rule out the possibility but was most unlikely a possibility.

For a minute I contemplated confessing to Margo about that afternoon with Jenny then decided to make sure Margo was talking about Jenny.

"Margo, who do you think this girlfriend is?"

"You know who she is! Why ask a dumb shit question!" Where did this shrew come from?

"Humor me, please. If I have knocked someone up then our marriage is over and we can go our separate ways. So, who is this woman?!"

"I don't know her name!" So, Margo had been checking up on me, maybe even following me to Church on Sundays. No matter the case it was clear Margo still had trust issues. Her trust issues probably went back to some unresolved relationship with her over bearing father. I didn't know this for fact and was quickly beginning to not care one way or the other.

I was also a little relieved she wasn't talking about Jenny.

The only person who attended the 7:30AM Mass who "looked" pregnant was the Cantor, who sang the Psalms and guided the congregation when singing selected hymns. I didn't really know her but knew her voice was wonderful to the ear and heart. The Cantor was friendly with everyone, was about 70-80 pounds overweight, but was not pregnant. There was no one else I knew who fit the description of being five months pregnant.

"Was this woman someone you saw at the Cathedral . . . wearing a red and white robe . . . and singing?"

"You know very well that's who I am talking about!" Yes, she was the Cathedral Cantor. Her name is Lola and she is not pregnant. It was a little late to read Acts, Revelations and the Genesis of jealously and guilt.

"Yes, Margo I know exactly who you are talking about. Her name is Lola and she is married and considerably over weight, but not pregnant." I wanted to just give up this futility and walk away. Our timing was horrible. Just as I think I am ready to reconcile with Margo, my wife, yet another insidious test slams into us with freight-train force.

"Margo, I think we are finished playing twenty questions. I know I am. Either you tell me who and where you know this pregnant woman . . . how you obtained this information . . . no, better yet, just tell me what it is you want and believe. I am through being tested with your unfounded jealous allegations. Go back to fucking Ken or whoever else rings your bells! I'm too tired to play these accusation-defense games."

I had not expected to be accused of getting someone pregnant especially at the very moment when I wanted to do the apology-for-being cold and distant. If nothing else our timing sucked big time.

"Enjoy your breakfast Margo and remember it is JUST breakfast. It was meant to be food for the body as we talked about feeding our souls and restoring the sacrament of our marriage. Lola is just the Cathedral Cantor." I stood up to leave suddenly not hungry or optimistic about the future as Mr. and Mrs. Bassler.

"Wait, Matthew, maybe I spoke too soon, without thinking. Please, Matthew, tell me what we need to do?" Her anger had evaporated and had been replaced with a heart-felt weeping person. It had been a bi-polar response that made me wonder if Margo was, in fact, mentally ill.

"Margo, I will not tell you, ever again, what to do other than to follow your heart and trust those you love and who love you. You tell me, when you have it figured out, what you want and how you think we should get there." It was important for Margo be responsible for her actions, be truthful, and communicate honestly.

"Oh, God what have I done?" Margo was speaking to no one, except maybe God, because I was learning not to listen to anything she said. I had no idea who Margo dad been listening to.

That conversation was held on a Thursday morning. I needed to get to work. Margo's work hours wouldn't start until 9:30-10:00AM. After getting to the office my boss told me to go home and sleep off whatever it was that was bothering me. I looked like hell so I drove over to Margo's new place of employment, the new Real Estate office and parked in the Bank parking lot across the street. I had no intention of going in to see her I just wanted to be in proximity to where Margo was. I was struggling with wanting to love and be with her yet knowing inside our marriage was beyond being in trouble.

I sat sipping cold coffee wondering how our lives had gotten to such a point and began to believe the marriage was finally over. As I sat watching, wondering if cops felt the same way on a stake-out, a dark blue Ford explorer pulled into one of the parking lot spaces. I was surprised when I recognized the tall blond woman step out of the car and toss her head to shake her long curly strands. 

It was Jenny. What was Jenny doing here!? She'd left the Real Estate Office and moved on with her life.

As I watched her go into the offices I debated following her then changed my mind. Until my marriage problems were resolved I was not going to cheat again even if Jenny was one of the most sexually attractive women I knew.

Not more than 15 minutes passed before Jenny came back out with Margo behind her. Margo seemed to be doing all of the talking as she followed Jenny to her car. Once both women were in the car Margo reached over to hug Jenny, who seemed to be reciprocating. The hug didn't last too long but longer than a simple greeting. It was the kind of hug close friends gave one another when seeing each other after many months. Then Jenny broke the hold, started the ignition, and pulled out onto the road.

Yes, I followed them for approximately a mile before they pulled into the Pelican Restaurant & Lounge parking lot. I pulled up the curb across the street to watch and wait. My second surprise came when I saw Stan waiting at the entrance to the restaurant. Both women gave him a brief hug hello before they went inside.

I wanted to be angry and hurt when I saw Stan greet Jenny and Margo but somehow felt like the pieces to a strange puzzle were falling in place. Getting out of my car I crossed the street and did not hesitate to walk inside the Pelican. It was surprisingly well lit inside so it was easy to locate Stan, Margo and Jenny seated in a booth in the middle of the restaurant.

I don't think any of them saw me until I was standing beside their table then they all seemed to turn and look at me at the same time. Like any gestalt it wasn't possible for me to see each expression at the same time.

"Ah, three of my favorite people in the world together in one place all snug-as-bugs-in-a rug." I was being sarcastic. All three of them tried to speak at the same time so nothing made sense. I held up my hand to silence them. "No need for anyone to speak. Please just let me have my say then I will be on my way."

We were interrupted as the waiter dropped off drinks then excused himself saying he'd be right back.

"Stan, how are you? I don't really care how you are doing these days but since the day I walked in on you kissing Margo I haven't much liked you. Margo is a great piece of ass, isn't she? And Jenny, confidant extraordinaire, you listened to me cry when I thought my marriage was falling apart. I bared my soul to you and, well, now I see where your alliances really are. Margo, just when I thought I had found a way to reconcile your relationship with fuck-face here, well, here you are again. What can any of you say that I will believe?" They looked at each other for a minute before Margo turned back to me.

"Ah, a little bit too late Margo. Your parting question this morning, "What have I done?" is now a stupid question, don't you think? It really should be "What am I doing?" Imagine my surprise when I saw you and Jenny a little while ago and now here you sit with Stan-the-man. I realized the three of you worked together for several years so this little reunion means something is still afoot and I am no longer willing to play the part of the fool. If I was hurt when I saw you two lip locked many months ago imagine how I felt knowing you were fucking each other? Imagine how fucking stupid I feel standing beside your table? But the three of you know what is and has been going on. Have you all had a good laugh as I played the role of court jester and cuckold?"

Jenny held my gaze fiercely, not backing down from my unspoken challenge. Stan was looking at Margo as if waiting for her to respond. Margo seemed to be looking at a spot on the table cloth as she fought back tears. It was certainly a fucked-up scene and no author could write this script.

"They are ready to order now." I spoke the words to their waiter as I headed for the entrance to exit.

I was mildly curious how, on that particular day, the day I reached out to Margo only to be falsely accused of sleeping with the Church Cantor, that the three most influential people in my life, at least at that moment, all happened to be together. Their influence had not been a positive influence and the real reason for their meeting would never be revealed. I would never understand the "rest of the story", even if they told me the absolute truth, because I was now a non-believer, a skeptic. There was only one person I had faith in, and it wasn't Santa Clause or my wife.

Leaving the restaurant gave me a sense of relief.

Margo tried to fight the divorce and I think her remorse was genuine, just a little too late. The tape recording Jenny sent to me made it mentally and emotionally easier to divorce Margo. The digital tape recording showed up later that afternoon, a recording Jenny had made of a pivotal conversation between Stan and Margo. It confirmed Margo was spreading her legs for Stan as a way to capture an additional 3% of what she believed was "her" commission on home Margo sold.

Margo had been driven by a warped sense of jealously and need to cover up her prostitute like affair with Stan. Her tests were an attempt to verify I was true to her, that I still loved her, and hide her liaisons with her boss.

When my divorce from Margo was final I found myself going out to dinner, alone, to celebrate. I'd been involved with the Cathedral as a way to ground myself in the unconditional support of the faithful, of a community. It may have been easier to go to a bar and get flat drunk but it wasn't who I was. 

I'd randomly chosen to go to the Grange for my "celebratory meal" and sat at their long comfortable wood bar. I'd been sitting at the bar eating a Brussels sprout salad and shrimp cocktail with a glass of Chardonnay. The lights were dimmed and you could see the unreal looking lights of the city beyond the ceiling high windows.

"Is this seat taken?" I'd always hated that line. It was cheesy. There was no one else at the bar and I recognized the woman's voice immediately. Just to make sure it was who I thought it was I looked up and into the wide mirror behind the bar. It was a deliberate movement on my part.

Her smell had me remembering what she'd tasted and felt like. She hadn't sat down yet as she hovered over my shoulder waiting for my response.

"Are you working?" I asked with as much seriousness as possible.

"I am always working but, for you, I will consider something more in trade. Do you have anything to trade?" I was trying to insult Jenny, implying she was the kind of woman who looked at life as a business transaction. Prostitutes, whose work is frequently contrary to what the law allows for, enter into business transactions.

Setting down my cocktail fork I turned to look at Jenny. She seemed to know exactly what I was doing.

"Come a little closer." I did not kiss her then, instead inhaled her scent and noticed she was not wearing a bra. "Jenny, where have you been?" I was genuinely curious as to what she'd been doing since our clandestine trip to the Philippines.

"Waiting in the shadows with my secrete." What women don't have secretes? Between Margo, Stan and Jenny there'd been a cavern of secretes concealed and locked in one lie after another. I didn't trust Jenny but certainly lusted for her.

"What secrete is that?" I knew what the secrete she referred to.

"Oh, it's a story about how I fell in love with someone and needed him to make love to me, over and over again. Think you can do that?"

It had been a long time since I'd been with a woman and Jenny certainly was everything a man could hope for. I didn't need to think about my answer but I also knew I did not love her.



Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 05



Jenny Speaks

The beautiful and seductive Margo had been duped. Stan was an asshole above all other assholes and he used his position and people powers to sort-of seduce Margo. "Sort of" means Margo had clearly been predisposed to dropping her panties for almost anyone, which made her an easy mark for Stan. He did this by preying on that side of her that feared losing her husband and by appealing to her pocket book. How did he do this?

It is called "commissions". When an agent sells a property, or assists a buyer purchase another listed property, that agent is due a percentage of the total sale. Usually this is a 7 % commission. The average sale price of a home listed by Margo was $750,000. Seven percent of $750,000 is $5,250. The Broker, that being Stan, then took 3% of Margo's sale, or $2,250. Margo sold, on average, ten homes a month, which meant she was giving up 3%, or $23,000, a month to the Real Estate Office.

Margo was trying to figure out how to realize at least 6% of her commissions which would amount to an astounding $43,000 a month.

Margo, being the greedy little bitch that she is, was always complaining to Stan that she was doing all of the work while he got rich off of her efforts. Margot always did her complaining in a caddy, joking manner, so as not to be offensive to Stan but inside she was angry she had to share anything with the man, the Office, she really detested. She had, on a number of occasions complained to me that she was considering going to another Real Estate office if Stan wouldn't agree to her receiving a greater portion of the commission she'd earned.

One of her arguments was that she'd been the top producer for 7 months in a row. She knew that, if push came to shove, Stan would acquiesce and be a little more reasonable. Then one day I was on my way back to the coffee lounge for my break. It is glass enclosed area so agents can relax yet watch the front entrance for potential customers. It served me well also because it was my job to greet buyers and sellers when they came into the Office. It was a job I did very well.

On this particular day I had one eye on the receptionist desk, an ear out for the phone, but was in need of caffeine. As I was about to turn and enter the coffee lounge I heard Stan and Margo arguing over commissions. It was the same discussion everyone in the office had heard except this time the argument took a turn in another direction.

"Margo, you know what you need to do to earn the additional 2%?" His comment was quid pro quo sexual harassment but Margo was focused on hoe to increase her commissions.

"Fuck you Stan!" Margo was clearly pissed but at the same time inwardly resolved to do what was necessary. This was a business transaction for Margo. At the same time I knew she'd recently closed a sale for an $878,000 home. If she agreed to Stan's terms she would make an additional $3,000 on the single sale.

"Now you are getting the idea. Who said you were stupid clearly did not know you." Stan was taunting Margo and making fun of her. He sounded like a drunken patron visiting a strip joint.

I stood outside of the coffee lounge waiting for Margo to continue. I think she knew someone was outside of the lounge because the next time she spoke she was more professional and calm. "I have a 2PM listing. Can we continue this discussion at 4PM?"

"Of course. I will see you then." Stan chuckled for a minute making me think he was feeling somewhat victorious. Well, as far as Stan was concerned, getting into Margo's pants would be a victory.

Margo left the lounge and walked quickly passed me her demeanor telling me she was still quite upset. Her professional confidence and sexy walk told me she was also determined to get her way. I just did not know at what the cost.

"All right Stan how do we do this?" The intercom system in-and-out of Stan's office had a two-way control I could monitor from the receptionist desk. Stan had it installed so that he could record select conversations with clients. It wasn't a legal practice but one that made Stan feel a little more protected from legal ramifications of a hand-shake deal. Knowing Margo had the 4:00PM meeting with Stan and being s snoop who enjoyed gossip like most every woman does, I activated the two way intercom to record the conversation.

So I am an eavesdropping sneaky bitch as well.

"How about you start by sucking this?" Not being able to do anything but imagine what was transpiring I could only imagine Stan leaning against his desk, his zipper down and his cock in his hands.

"What kind of a business woman do you take me for? Here, sign these first then we can talk about, well, about what you want in return." She'd obviously had a contract ready for his signature. What is that saying, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush? Margo had the bush and to get into it Stan was going to have to sign and pay, although on paper it would never appear as "payment" for extracurricular services.

There were a few minutes of silence and the rustle of papers. Stan was reading whatever it was Margo had handed him.

"This says the Broker receives 1%, not the 2% we'd talked about. What makes you think I am going to agree to this shit?" Stan was angry but not overly so.

"These."

"Margo, those are absolutely wonderful tits. But for the additional 1%, I don't know?"

"How about now? See anything you like?" I was guessing Margo had taken off more of her clothing.

"Turn around and let me see that ass of yours. Ah, yes, your ass is perfect. Does your husband tap that?"

"Stan, if we reach an understanding it is with the clear understanding we never talk about Matthew. Never! If we can't do that I will take my business and go someplace else!" Margo needed to finalize the clandestine deal with Stan in order to pocket a full 6% commission of every home she sold. Stan would still make money but then he was going to have a married mistress on the side and nothing would be coming out of his own pocket. Once they started their arrangement there would be no turning back. It also meant Margo, by agreeing to fuck Stan for a greater share of her commission, ended her marriage. She just didn't know that her marriage would be the real price she'd pay.

"Okay, okay, okay. Matthew is off limits, I get it."

"Thank you for signing these." I was guessing Margo was putting the papers in her briefcase. "Now bring your little dick over here so I can give you your little blow job."

"Hey, be nice. There is no need to criticize my equipment. I can still get the job done!" It was the first time I had ever heard Stan whine. I also guessed his "equipment" was on the smaller side. Considering he was an over-bearing blow hard and a very tough negotiator you would imagine he would be well endowed and confident. I now understood he was always compensating for his sexual inadequacies.

I was at a loss why Margo, who had the perfect husband, who seemed to love Matthew unconditionally and will every bit of her being, would jeopardize such perfection. Was it simply greed that drove her?

"Our agreement Stan is to fuck not be nice to one another." Stan got his first blow job from Margo. I'm not sure what else transpired but I do know that by 5:30PM they were still sequestered in Stan's office.

I made a digital copy of the recording and sent it to my personal email for safe keeping.

This agreement between Stan and Margo went on for close to 7 months. Almost always they would get together in the later part of the afternoon and always in Stan's office. I had 8-9 digital voice recordings of their clandestine fuck sessions before asking for a raise, a raise I wanted back dated one year. Yes, I was moving down the path of blackmail as well but didn't really feel too guilty. Stan quickly agreed to my request for a 100% increase in salary. A 100% increase of a receptionist wage was an amount the Office could easily afford.

I was rationalizing the increase in salary would help me pay off my school loans and begin looking for working allowing me to use my newly acquired MBA. Besides I now was coming to work only to go home every day feeling dirty. The feeling dirty part of my job was exacerbated by the fact that Margo's husband, Matthew, was such a nice guy! He seemed to be the devoted husband who absolutely adored his wife who had taken to fucking Stan for a greater percentage of her commission.

When Matthew came in to see his wife it was difficult for me not to turn to him and tell him his wife would be right out "she just needs to finish fucking Stan." I was guilty as well for taking such an increase in salary and I hated feeling guilty.

A couple of other things happened that caused me to intensify my search for another job. First, Stan started stopping to chat with me, usually early in the morning. He'd never done this. He was complimentary about my dress, which was usually semi-conservative but did reveal a little bit of cleavage. I am not very busty to begin with so the little exposure may have helped customers relax and flirt. Second, Margo started doing the same thing. She would chat about how much she loved her husband and what was going on in her life outside of the Office. It sounded like she had the absolute perfect marriage to a loving faithful husband. I was always perplexed as to how she could separate her Real Estate "business" ventures, her affair with Stan, and her life with her husband.

Then one Friday afternoon my world came together and fell apart at the same time. I'd been offered a job with a major oil company. It was entry level but had the promise to evolve into a very demanding and rewarding career. I took the job without thinking and emailed my two-week resignation to Stan. Stan didn't complain because it meant he no longer had to pay me to keep me silent.

At the same time Matthew came into the office, flowers in hand, smiling wide and winking as he walked past my desk. Margo had mentioned he would be by to take her to lunch.

Within a few minutes Matthew walked back by my desk, no longer carrying his flowers looking like his world had suddenly come to an end. It didn't take great powers of deductive reasoning to know what he'd probably seen.

"Matthew, I am sorry. . ." I really felt bad for Matthew, he didn't deserve a wife like Margo but it wasn't my place to make that judgment. My apology was genuine, but not because he had discovered his wife was a whore, but because I was guilty for concealing the fact I'd also been covering for Margo for months.

"Jenny, please, you don't have to say anything. I would like to leave Margo a message and I need to make sure she gets it. Can you do that for me?" Even in his hurt he was polite and kind to me.

"Of course." What was I going to say, no? I felt my own guilt and culpability in his situation. I was wondering how I might help make things right then realized his relationship with his wife, if it were to survive, would be difficult enough. By the way Margo had always talked about Matthew I knew she loved him dearly. Margo had simply lost sight of what was important in life.

I wanted to help and I wanted to flirt with Matthew but knew better. His world was complicated enough and I was also dirty. Matthew handed me the note for Margo, not trying to conceal the message. It read, Margo, now I know how bad it feels. Whatever we had may very well be on life support. Have the courtesy to give me 24 hours before coming home. Matt.

"Matthew, if there is anything I can do, please, call me." I'd talked to Matthew a hundred times on the phone and when he'd come in to visit Margo, like today. I think I'd always been a little bit of a flirt but now I was just sad for him.

"Well, Jenny, how would you like to go to the Philippines for a week?" What did her just ask me? Surely Matthew is joking. I can't just drop everything and go to the Philippines with him. Hell, I didn't even know where the Philippines is!

"If you are serious, yes, of course I'd go with you. When would we leave?" My response surprised even me. I was thinking this might be an opportunity to redeem myself, to set things right. Of course, I wasn't thinking things through carefully.

Nonetheless I wrote my name and number on the back of an Office business card and handed it to Matthew. I watched him as he slipped the card in his shirt pocket.

Why would Margo ever jeopardize her marriage for additional commissions? Why would she ever consider cheating on such a wonderful man? Did I have feelings for this man? Was he the one?

Matthew then smiled a sad smile and left. From behind me I heard Marg. She was yelling, "You God dammed fucker get out!" She was yelling at Stan then I heard her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor as she made her way to the front of the Office, to my desk.

I handed the note from Matthew to Margo without saying anything and waited. She was already crying saying something about having fucked up the best thing that ever happened to her.

"Jenny, did Matthew say where he was going?" Margo was angry and crying at the same time.

"Yes, he said he was going to the Philippines to think?"

"Are you sure?" Margo seemed surprised.

"Yes. Then he asked if I wanted to go with him. I'm sure he was not serious about asking me. Margo, I don't really know your husband and would." Margo leaned against the wall as if thinking.

"Jenny, go with him, please. He might have been asking you in jest but I think it is a great idea. I screwed up and his ego and trust for me must be at an all-time low. I would at least know he was okay and didn't do anything to hurt himself. God, I have been such a fool! Please Jenny, do this for me? I will make sure you are also paid?" 

Well, my opportunity to make amends for my own shameless involvement just got more complicated. I didn't really care about being paid but it did sweeten the situation.

"Okay Margo. Okay, I will go with him if he was serious."

"Oh, thank you! Here is my cell number and . . . ." I'd never seen Margo so disoriented and unsure of herself.

"Margo, I have all of your phone numbers." As the Office receptionist I had all phone numbers for every agent in the Real Estate Office. It was part of my job.

"Oh, yes, of course you do. Thank you again." Then Margo turned to run back to her office and I called Matthew to let him know I would go with him. Yes, he was most surprised by my call but did share with me we'd be catching the Saturday evening red-eye flight. Yes, I felt like I'd just stepped into the middle of a forest fire I was just too stupid to smell the smoke. There was another side of me that was excited, mainly because I'd always been a tad bit infatuated with Matthew. It was an emotion I'd always kept to myself.

"Stan, you were so full of shit! To think I'd actually believed you made sense. Jesus, what have I been thinking? Before I go Jenny, please call as often as you can to keep me informed. I am also taking a few days off to reevaluate what I am going to do with the rest of my life." Margo left, looking at her feet as she walked out. I don't think Stan had told her that day was my last day with the Real Estate office, which did not really matter. I would soon be gone and have no further ties to the Real Estate Office, Stan and Matthew.

It occurred to me that Stan was most likely happy to see me go. He could now pay a mediocre receptionist the mediocre salary he was paying me, when I first went to work for the Office. It was far more important for me to get free of the adulterous environment before Stan found some form of dirt on me. It didn't really matter if he did. I had no husband or large amount of money to protect. The only thing he might want from me is wet, warm and beneath my mound of pubic hair. Stan had no chance of that ever happening. There are some boundaries I would never cross.

I had been saving myself for a man I loved, a man who treated me with respect, a man a lot like Matthew. He was not, in my mind, available. On top of everything else he is married and too mentally damaged to get the job done. Was Matthew really mentally damaged or was that my projection of how I might feel if someone I loved had cheated on me?

I did place calls to Margo almost every night from the Philippines. For the first few days I did this without telling Matthew. I would do this from my cell phone, often sitting on the toilet in my air conditioned hotel room. Eventually I didn't feel right not being honest with Matthew so "came clean". First I let him know I'd always had a crush on him. I think he took this information as incidental and not threateningly. I remember having crushes on a teacher in middle school. It was just that, a crush, not a conniving plan to seduce someone. By telling Matthew about how I felt about him allowed both of us to relax. Second, I confessed I'd been reporting to Margo who was worried about him.

It is odd how telling the truth can liberate people from the sad confines associated with repeatedly telling lies. Now that Matthew and I were in Boracay I quickly learned about a way Filipinos related to one another. It is a cultural thing. When entering into gossip they often would refer to the practice as "story-telling a lie." The statement usually results in nervous smiles and laughter as people seemed to think it is okay to "story-tell a lie." My confessions to Matthew were truthful but I think he thought I was story-telling a lie. It is ironic that when you live a lie then tell the truth no one believes you!

Confessing to Matthew had another effect on our relationship. It seemed to put up an invisible barrier between us. After all I was calling his wife every night to "report". Why should he talk to me about anything, especially when he was struggling to cope with a wife who was not true to him? Matthew just didn't yet know the degree of her unfaithfulness. I knew he would never cross the line and seduce me unless I did something blatant to entice him.

He would respect his marriage so he would respect me. He would go out of his way to play the role of protective male. It was just part of who he was so to get him into my bed I would have to take the initiative. The problem was there never seemed to be an opportunity that would not directly threaten Matthew or make him feel guilty. The opportunity did not arise until the night before we were to leave the Philippines.

We decided to do dimmer outside the hotel then find someplace to have a drink and maybe do a little dancing. It was the perfect opportunity for me to dress a little on the provocative side in a lose pair of nearly transparent white linen slacks. If the sun had been shining you would have been able to see the outline of everything from the waist down. I contemplated not wearing underwear at all then opted for a black nearly transparent thong. I knew it would be outlined beneath the white slacks. Then I opted for a peasant style cotton blouse and no bra. My tits aren't big enough to require that kind of support, besides, it would give me the opportunity to flash accidently-on-purpose let Matthew see my long hard nipples.

Dressing casually and seductively, with Matthew in mind, had me wet and requiring a maxi-pad to absorb my involuntary dripping. I'd never wanted anyone like Matthew in my life! I'd never had a man penetrate me before either! There is a side of me that has always been just a tad slutty but I'd never had the courage to ever turn to a man and simply say, "Fuck me. Fuck me hard." To be honest Matthew had always been an off-limits fantasy. No matter, I was determined that our last night in the Philippines would at least be fun!

Matthew and I ended up in a little nightclub whose name I can't remember. I was, at first, disappointed because Matthew seemed more interested in watching a pirated movie that was playing on one of the large flat screen TVs. It only took me a few minutes to be approached by two of the Filipino bar girls who were almost nude to begin with. They both wore little red hot pants (probably the bar uniform) and little while halter tops that covered their nipples and left everything else open to visual inspection. They pulled me off to dance to a few juke-box rock-and-roll tunes before a slow tune came on. Both bar girls kept me on the floor, squeezing me between their tight little brown bodies. I'm not into women but what they were doing was a turn on and had me excited.




Stepping in the River, Twice Ch. 05



All the while I kept an eye on Matthew hoping to get his attention. My show would begin when I had his undivided attention. When the slow tune ended, the two bar girls, one on each side of me, pulled me to a booth occupied by two gruff looking tattooed American men. Neither one of the American men had shaved in at least two days. They looked like they hadn't showered in that long either which added an element of danger to the scene in the bar. For some reason the element of danger added to my excitement. I wondered if I was an exhibitionist then dismissed the idea as I realized this was one of those once-in-a-lifetime events. Whatever was unfolding would never happen again, no matter how I tried to recreate the event.

The two girls, probably not more than 18-19 years old, waved me into the booth with the two men. With a bar girl on either side of me I was introduced to the two men who ordered drinks that were very strong, meaning I needed to be careful about how much I drank. To cap things off the noise level in the bar made it difficult to really have a meaningful conversation and it was physically hot.

When I noticed Matthew was watching me from the bar with a slight smile on his face I deduced I would be safe, that he would come to my rescue if things got out of hand. I remember closing my eyes at some point and one of the bar girls getting very close to me. At first I thought she was going to whisper something in my ear then I felt her little tongue and lips nibble my ear. She didn't stop at my ear and continued to lick and kiss my exposed neck. To do this she slyly pulled the right sleeve of my top off of my shoulder, exposing my neck and shoulder to everyone. 

I opened my eyes for just a moment to make sure Matthew was watching me. It was Matthew I wanted to seduce. It was his fingers and lips I wanted running down my neck stopping to linger at my now very hard nipples. My nipples were so hard they hurt and screamed for physical attention.

When the other bar girl joined her girlfriend at my other ear, I knew what was going to happen next. Both girls, in all of their lost innocence, pulled my blouse sleeves all the way down to my waist. I had never done anything like this before and began to pray Matthew would intervene before I lost control and two strangers replaced the bar girls. The other thing that had me so excited was the public nature of what was happening to me. Later I would reflect on this thought realizing that we all have a price and a point where we are capable of doing anything.

The thought made me think of Margo and her "business" relationship with Stan, Margo did not even like the man, she didn't respect him, but her goal was to capture as much of her "earned" commission as possible. Occasionally fucking Stan, in her mind, was almost incidental. Stan did not matter but making money did. When she started down that path she forgot what was important to her, like Matthew.

I don't know how long I remained with my eyes closed and tits exposed for everyone to see. The bar girls were driving me crazy with the little fingers and tongues. By the time a mouth began to kiss and suck my left breath the other girl slipped her hand into my lose fitting slacks to caress me there. Her touch was like an electric shock and I had a little orgasm. The orgasm encouraged both girls as my lack of resistance and opening of my legs let fingers slip easily beneath my thongs and into my very hot and very wet pussy. When that happened I had another orgasm.

When I opened my eyes to check on Matthew he was standing beside the booth, his hand extended slightly as if to say, let's go. He said something to the two Americans and left money on the table for the two bar girls and the drinks. It looked like a two thousand pesos which was way too much for the bar tab but enough to more than cover the services of each girl. Pulling up my blouse I realized I was not the least bit conscious being nearly naked in front of Matthew.

As I extricated myself from the both I could feel my nearly soaked ass and pussy peel away from the seat. Taking Matthew's hand and looking into his eyes told me everything I needed to know. My lust for him was evident and now, as he took my hand and smiled at me. I knew we would soon be lost in each other's sex. It was also especially exciting because it would be the first time I had ever been with a man.

I was about to lose my virginity!

When Matthew and I returned to the States I did not return to the Real Estate Office. I did meet with Margo over coffee to give her my last "report." I looked her in the eye and blatantly lied to her face telling her Matthew had not even looked at another woman while in the Philippines. I wanted to tell her about losing my virginity and fucking Matthew until I couldn't walk, or sit down, but I kept the sex very private. It had been special for me and I saw no need to sully the act by rubbing Margo's nose in it.

We only talked for 5-10 minutes. She was satisfied, thankful and slid an envelope across the table. It contained $10,000 cash for my services. It was also money I almost did not take then thought I'd need it as I got settled in my new job. I was also not ever expecting to see Matthew again and that left me feeling sad. I never told Margo the entire truth and assumed Matthew I would not do so.

What bothered me the most was the fact I'd lied to Matthew when he'd asked me if Margo had been unfaithful. I'll never forget the look of relief on his face when I said, "No, she has been painfully faithful."

Matthew heard my words. He'd been sipping a beer, a Filipino beer. He set the beer down and looked out of the hotel restaurant's window, seeing nothing in particular. I could tell that he was still replaying in his mind seeing Margo kissing her boss. I think he knew I was lying but I am sure I told him what he needed to hear. I'd also lied to Margo, thinking it was the best thing for her marriage and I really wanted Matthew to be happy, to be with the one he still loved. Only time would tell if his marriage would survive and I did not want to be an influence one way or the other.

I then walked away from Stan as my boss, from Margo as the bitch of a wife I silently prayed would eventually destroy her own marriage and my job. Inside my heart I knew I'd fallen hard for Matthew. Though he was my first sexual partner he'd proven to be a wonderful lover. Yes, I would find sex and find it frequently, that I was certain, because it felt so good to have a man in my bed. Matthew would always be the standard by which I would measure all men.

Five busy months past and I had not heard from Margo, Stan or Matthew. I'd moved on to a more career-oriented job with a major company that developed land and built shopping malls. It paid fairly well for an entry level position but had the potential for significant advancement. Then I received a call from Margo. It was an unexpected out-of-the blue call I instinctively knew was not from one friend calling to see how another friend might be doing. 

"Hello Jenny, how are you?" Margo sounded professional telling me she wanted something. She reminded me of how good a salesperson she'd become, able to make, almost the same way she made a client think they were the ones making a decision to buy or sell their home. She was a manipulative genius.

"Hello Margo." Her name was programmed into my cell phone so I immediately knew it was a call from Margo.

"Hi Jenny, how are you?" I did not want to trade pleasantries, not having much patience for the woman. Last I'd heard she and Matthew were trying to work out the problems in their marriage. If this was true had she found a way not to have occasional trysts with Stan? Probably not. She would have wanted to give up any part of her commission.

"Okay Margo, Why are you calling?" Chit-chat was not one of my strong points.

"To the point, I like that about you. Jenny, Stan and I want to take you to lunch, say tomorrow at the Pelican. Are you free to join us?" There is no such thing as "free". Margo and Stan wanted something and most likely the voice recording I still had that described their business arrangement regarding her commissions.

"I suppose you want the voice recording, yes?" There was silence on Margo's end of the phone. I was guessing she'd put her hand over the phone as was conferring with Stan.

"Yes, we are prepared to make you an offer we think will make you happy. Can we count on you joining us at noon tomorrow?" Why would they want the recording now? Then I thought about it. Margo wanted it so there was no way for Matthew to have any hard evidence of her infidelities. The recording was also something Stan could use to further blackmail Margo into having an affair with her. For some reason I did not think that was possible.

Stan wanted the recording so his wife would never have proof he'd been a bastard regarding blackmailing Margo for sex.

"Give me a number." I wanted some idea of how much she and Stan were prepared to pay.

"Not over the phone. Noon tomorrow and we will talk." Margo disconnected without another word.

Yep, Margo was slick. She also was a desperate woman who wanted to save her marriage but had missed that opportunity a long time ago. I realized exactly what I needed to do, not for Margo, Stan or Matthew but for myself. If I was ever to have a chance of having a somewhat normal relationship with anyone, then Matthew needed to know the truth, and nothing but the truth. My plan was simple to execute and was sure to drive a wedge further into Margo's marriage, Stan's marriage and any possible relationship with Matthew I might crave.

When Margo and I arrived at the restaurant Stan was already seated at a booth large enough to seat 6 people. This was going to be a meeting I wanted over long before it started. I had come to realize I did not like or trust Margo or Stan. I did not like the fact Matthew was in the middle of Margo and Stan's destine relationship. I did not like myself for having deceived Matthew.

Stan had ordered drinks and looked like a hungry hawk ready to swoop down and skewer the unsuspecting rabbit. Was I now the rabbit? What is it with Margo and her rabbits? For all I knew it was her way to show affection and reduce the reality of life to a kids game and 17-second orgasms. (If you remember rabbits can ejaculate in 17 seconds or less.)

I sat on the open side of the booth next to Margo. As I sat down I placed the tiny cassette recording in the middle of the table. What was not on the table was the digital copy that had been sent to Matthew, Stan and Margo just 15 minutes prior to the meeting. After all we all live in a digital age and once things go electronic well, there it is for all time. The recording was the silly rabbit that left its hole to scamper aimlessly across the prairie.

"Margo, Stan, this is my separation gift to . . ." I didn't finish my statement because Matthew was almost to our table. I would never accept a bribe for the cassette recording at this point. It was now free for anyone who wanted to listen.

Seeing Matthew after so many months of deliberately staying away, brought up the lust and longing I harbored for the man. Stan and Margo were visibly shaken into silence. When I looked from Matthew to Margo then to Stan it occurred to me Matthew would see me as part of the Margo-Stan business arrangement and that bothered me but was nothing I could do anything about now. It bothered me because I had this remote fantasy I might be able to have Mathew at least one more time.

Inside I was also silently smiling knowing Margo would not be able to wiggle her way out by telling another lie. Then, neither would I. Matthew would, most likely, see me as just another manipulative bitch.

Matthew did not give Margo the opportunity to explain what she was doing as he walked up to our table. He must have been following his wife, or me? I don't believe in coincidences. Matthew showing up like he did meant he'd been checking his wife's story-telling-a-lie. It occurred to me he might not need the cassette recording but realized it would confirm the depth of her lies and infidelity.

I remembered the words I spoke to Matthew as we were landing at the San Francisco airport. At the time I meant them. I'd said, "I will never do anything to hurt you and my friend." Now I'd done something that would hurt his marriage, end my friendship with Margo and leave me regretting ever agreeing to go to the Philippines with Matthew. In retrospect, there was no way not to hurt Matthew or Margo and walk away with any sense of personal dignity.

Matthew addressed Margo and Stan briefly then turned and walked away.

Matthew Speaks

When my divorce from Margo was final I found myself going out to dinner, alone, to sort-of celebrate. I'd been involved with the Cathedral as a way to ground myself in the unconditional support of the faithful, of a community. I'd randomly chosen to go to the Grange for my "meal" and sat at their long comfortable wood bar. I'd been sitting at the bar eating a Brussels sprout salad and shrimp cocktail with a glass of Chardonnay. The wine went well with the salad and shrimp.

The lights were dimmed and you could see the unreal looking lights of Sacramento beyond the ceiling-high windows.

"Is this seat taken?" I'd always hated that line. It was cheesy. There was no one else in the bar and I recognized the woman's voice immediately. Just to make sure it was who I thought it was I looked up and into the wide mirror behind the bar. It was a deliberate movement on my part and allowed me to see her image first. The image was not real but she was very real. Looking at her image gave me the illusionary opportunity to ignore her if I thought it was a safer way to proceed.

Her smell had me remembering what she'd tasted and felt like. She hadn't sat down yet as she hovered over my shoulder waiting for my response. I was beginning to think playing this safe was nothing more than a waste of time. I knew I would talk to her. Hell, I'd wanted to see her again for months.

"Are you working?" I asked with as much seriousness as possible. I guess I was serious. After all she'd taken money to remain silent. She'd blackmailed Margo and Stan before finally making amends. Yet, she hadn't taken anything from me. To the contrary she'd given me a gift that can only be given once. It is a gift that will always be with me.

"I am always working but, for you, I will consider something more in trade. Do you have anything to trade?" I was trying to insult Jenny, implying she was the kind of woman who looked at life as a business transaction. Prostitutes, whose work is frequently contrary to what the law allows for, enter into business transactions.

Setting down my cocktail fork I turned to look at Jenny. She seemed to know exactly what I was doing.

"Come a little closer." I was through with the mirror game. It was time to look into the eyes of the river called my past. "Jenny, where have you been?" I was genuinely curious as to what she'd been doing since our clandestine trip to the Philippines.

"Waiting in the shadows. Working. Healing. Guarding my secrete. I guess I have been afraid to reach out to you." Between Margo, Stan and Jenny there'd been a cavern of secretes concealed and locked in one lie after another. At that moment trust was not an issue. I was wondering how to recreate that wonderful evening in the Philippines. Then I gave up my wondering knowing each day forward needed to be fresh, new, and forever creative.

"What secrete is that?" I knew what the secrete she referred to.

"Oh, it's a story about how I fell in love with someone and needed him to make love to me, over and over again. Think you can do that?" Even with the knowledge we could never relive that day when she gave up her virginity, making love to her, over and over again, presented the opportunity to endless rebirth.

It had been a long time since I'd been with a woman and Jenny certainly was everything a man could hope for in a woman. Yet I was hesitant and retreated into my philosophical self, for just a moment.

"Jenny let me share a little story with you. It is a story that is philosophical and real. It holds a lesson few people ever learn in their lifetime, not because they lack the intelligence, but because their desires guide their actions." Jenny had turned her head in curiosity as I spoke. It was then I realized she had matured over the last few months and did not look the same as she did in my memory of her.

"Go on." Her encouragement was more a whisper.

"No matter how hard we try we can never experience the same event the same way twice. Loving Margo was the kind of love that only comes once in a life time. Making love to you, taking your precious gift of blood can never happen a second time. Marriage is a sacrament, at least for me, and does not happen a second time in order to remain Holy." Yes, I was telling her marriage was something I did not see in my future. "You may want to argue this point but I would say you have not experienced marriage and you will believe what you want to believe. In the words of the famous sage you simply cannot step in the same place in the river twice." Jenny had just invited me to fuck her over-and-over again and I'm falling back into philosophical bull shit. It was my way of setting boundaries.

I stopped and motioned the bartender to bring a drink for Jenny then returned to look her in the eyes. God, she was beautiful and sexy!

"Let me finish this little story. You can't take back the fact you took money to report to Margo. You can't give me your virginity a second time. What you have done, by opening my eyes to the truth and depth of Margo's infidelity, and why she'd crossed that line, also cannot be undone or taken back. By hurting me you pulled the covers off of my eyes and let me see again. I don't always like what I see, but the world is no longer filtered or fettered."

"Enough talk Matthew." Jenny leaned in to kiss me. As she did I backed up slightly. She stopped at my movement backwards then reached out and took hold of my polo shirt and pulled me firmly to her lips. I did not hesitate to return the kiss.

I really didn't have anything else to say. Besides it is difficult to talk when being kissed by one of heaven's goddesses. Her tongue had attacked the uvula, that little sac that hangs in the back of your throat. The Grange is a fairly upscale restaurant but no one seemed to notice Jenny and I locked in a five minute French kiss.

Where Jenny and I went from here was not clear because that part of the river had not yet reached us. My marriage had been a painful lesson I had no desire to ever step into again, with anyone. Well, at least not tonight!