120 comments/ 180157 views/ 64 favorites Across That Line By: Longhorn__07 It was an easy road to drive and Bradley Rogers, Brad to his family and friends, was relaxed and comfortable behind the wheel. The air-conditioner was flooding the vehicle's interior with cold air to keep the hot Texas afternoon at bay, the wheels were rumbling a steady rhythm on the macadam...and he was alone with his bride of only twelve months. He and Ashley were driving up to Dallas for a long awaited, and much anticipated, weekend alone. His fingers barely touching the steering wheel, Brad guided the car through a long, sweeping curve and onto another section of impossibly straight highway. He couldn't even see where the next bend in the road might be. The horizon was hidden by a shimmering veil of rising heat waves coming off the hot pavement. Leaving his left hand on the wheel, Brad extended his right to find and hold his wife's hands in his. They'd be hitting the big loop around the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex in another hour or so. From there, it would be a short ride into Dallas and their hotel. It was Thursday. They'd have four whole days together with no worries and no responsibilities beyond their love for each other. "Baby?" his wife asked softly, almost plaintively. Ashley's fingers tightened on her husband's apprehensively. She forced herself to relax. "What, hun?" Brad replied. When her hand twitched, he tensed and automatically checked ahead and behind with quick glances through the windshield and rearview mirrors for anything that might be a threat. There was nothing there. "Sugar...the hotel called," Ashley said hesitatingly. "They...it was about our reservation." Brad's easy going expression faded to a frown. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Damn!" he exclaimed. "Sorry," he apologized as quickly as the expletive was out of his mouth. He'd been trying to watch his language ever since he'd gotten married. Sometimes he was less successful than others in avoiding four-letter words. "They screwed up our reservations, didn't they," Brad spat out. "Shi...darn it all anyway." "No, no," Ashley said quickly. "They've got our room for us okay...a king-size bed with a Jacuzzi...it's not that." Brad shot her a quick questioning look. His wife avoided his eyes, preferring to stare at the road ahead instead. "Then, what, sugar?" he asked. "They called me..." Ashley said, wetting her lips, "...it's just that...they said there'd been a mistake. They called it an oversight. I don't think it was anybody's fault," she said, beginning to babble in her nervousness." "Ash..." Brad said. There were some conversations he had with his wife where she never did get to the subject she wanted to bring up. "Okay," Ashley replied. She took a deep breath. "They called to tell us almost the whole hotel had been reserved for a swinger's convention from tonight all the way until Monday." Brad stared at her in shock. He didn't understand at first. Ashley refused to look at him. "They said they could get another hotel for us if we wanted," Ashley continued. "They apologized and said they'd take care of getting another room anywhere else we wanted to go," she said. She paused before continuing. "I...honey, please don't be mad...I told them it was all right. We'd stay there." Brad was choking very slowly but very surely on the huge lump in his throat. "Baby...we won't have to do anything with anyone in the lifestyle, okay? It's not like any of those people would think of forcing us to do anything, you know. Everything will be all right. We just can watch everyone being sexy and stuff. It'll just be a turn on for us, okay, sugar?" "I don't...understand," Brad said thickly. His mind was spinning. He felt like he was in the grip of a deadly whirlpool. His life was spiraling downward into the depths. "I...what was it I did?" He searched for the words to express his confusion. "I...Ashley...you have to tell me...please...I can make it better. What did I do wrong?" There was no answer to his despairing questions. Ashley Rogers never heard her husband. "Brad...Brad...Brad...BRADLEY!" she screamed. Brad snapped his eyes back to the road. With only his left hand on the steering wheel, the Chrysler had drifted slowly into the oncoming lane. The big eighteen-wheeler was coming at them fast; their combined speed was nearly 140 miles per hour. Brad could hear the air horn now. It's strident shrieking was almost overwhelming. The truck driver hauled his big rig as far to the right as he could get. Blue smoke from suddenly applied brakes began to billow out into the pristine afternoon. Brad twisted the steering wheel hard to the right as quickly as his arms could move. When he stomped on the brakes in a panic, the cruise control automatically disconnected and the engine revs dropped off immediately. The car swerved violently. Brad had turned too abruptly and too sharply, but it was probably the couple's only chance. The offside tires lifted a full inch off the road surface...then settled back. Brad eased the turn with a snap of his wrist...straightened out for a split second...and pulled the wheel firmly back to the left to bring the car back into his lane from the edge of the right shoulder. A short series of more gentle corrections brought the vehicle back on course down the blacktop. The sound of the truck's loud horn drifted back to them. Brad heard the derisive note still hanging in the air long after the truck disappeared in the rearview mirror. A mile further on, Brad pulled into the empty roadside park. Neither he nor his wife had said a word to each other since the near disaster. He turned off the engine and listened to the popping noises as the motor cooled for a long moment. "I'm sorry," he finally told her. His voice was low and rasping. The near accident, along with the news she'd given him before, still held a steely grip over his emotions. "I...it's all right," she said at last, her voice faint and shaky. "I should have told you earlier...before we started out," Ashley said slowly. "I should have, I know. I'm sorry too, Brad, honey." The couple sat quietly for a time, steadying their nerves and mulling over the best thing to do next, each in their separate world. "Darling, I know I should have said something before we came, but there just didn't seem to be a good time, you know? I wanted to, but before I knew it, we were in the car and..." "Okay..." Brad said neutrally. "But why do we need to go to a hotel where all those...swingers...are going to be? I can't understand..." "Brad, honey...it's not like you think. Couples in the lifestyle aren't mean and vicious. They won't think anything about it if we don't...participate...in the convention or the parties or stuff. It'll be all right, don't you think, baby? We'll just watch them...like it was a show or something, okay? I promised you, honey, and I'm not going to break my promise...you know that, right?" Somewhere in the explanation, Ashley had turned to her husband to look earnestly at him. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. He just had to understand. "Ash..." Brad said. He stopped to clear an aching throat. "Ash...we talked about this before we got married. You said you didn't want to get back into that...that lifestyle thing or whatever you call it...never again...you said I was all you wanted for the rest of your life...what happened, honey? I...is it something I..." "No, honey," Ash replied, cutting him off. "You didn't do anything...and neither did I, sweetie. All I thought was that we've been needing this time to ourselves for so long and...when they called me...I figured all those...people would be like a sexy...floorshow or something, baby...that's all." Brad listened quietly. He believed his wife was sincere. She seemed so. She'd almost broken into tears twice as she explained. In the end, her obvious distress moved him to accept her explanations, hard as they were to choke down. He started the car again and carefully pulled back onto the road. He kept both his hands on the steering wheel for the rest of the trip and he drove ten miles an hour below the speed limit all the way Across That Line Brad stood up, staring wildly around the room. He would not stay here, waiting like a dutiful cuckold for his wife to come home. He would not! He made sure his wife's keys were in her purse; he saw her cell phone there too. He couldn't even call the woman he'd married just one year ago. Well...so be it. Heck, he'd had his doubts this marriage was going to last anyway. Some things weren't meant to be. Before he left the room, he tossed both entry cards onto the table beside her purse. Brad stepped back into the lobby and hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to do next. He'd left the room upstairs intending to get into the car and drive home. He didn't want to...he hated himself for doing it...but he glanced down the hallway to make sure Ashley wasn't hurrying toward him. He gave up, and surrendered his last remnant of self-respect to walk down the side corridor and try that damned door once more. It was still locked...and he was still the man left out. Disgraced and shamed a second time, he stalked quickly back down the hall and through the main lobby. Before he went through the big outside doors, a movement off to his left caught his attention. Customers were going and coming from several small shops down a wide hallway. The rental car agency was the third office down on the right. Brad stared at a moment before allowing his shoulders to slump even more than they were. As much as Ashley had humiliated him, he couldn't strand her here, several hundred miles away from her babies. He shook his head and walked down to the office to rent a compact car for the drive back to San Antonio. He kept his head down, hoping others wouldn't see the humiliation in his eyes. Across That Line "No!" she said forcefully. "She wanted Floyd to play with them, not me...and she didn't take off her top, she just opened it up. Some guy with the convention came over and made her do it back up. She went away and we never saw her again, okay? That's all that was." "Mmmmmmm...uh huh...okay. Ol' Floyd was too busy with you to help Fatty out, I guess, huh? Maybe Fatty should have frenched you like...Ann...did. Maybe she would have gotten a little more from you, huh?" Ashley shook her head violently. She was beginning to get mad. Brad noticed and was glad. If she got angry enough, she might leave him and this whole marriage thing could be laid to rest. Where he'd been afraid she'd leave him because of earlier arguments, this afternoon he hoped she would. "I told you," Ashley said determinedly. "I made them both stop with the touching right there inside...and they did...I think them kissing on me was one of the things that made me feel so weird and out of control, honey. I didn't expect to be...attacked like that, you know?" "Darn...too bad I wasn't there to see you make them stop touching you," Brad said stoically. "It doesn't explain why the hell you let them do it as long as they did...but what the fuck, huh? You were on autopilot and didn't notice...is that about right?" Ashley moaned. She didn't have an answer. "So...anyway," Brad said quickly. "What next? Y'all were sitting in there yelling at each other and you were having a fine little visit with your old...buddies in the conference room where they were setting up a bar and a band was tuning up...right? I think that's where you left off. So...then what happened?" Ashley was hurting. Yeah, she'd been wrong to let herself be so distracted she lost control, but she was doing her best to show her husband she was sorry. She began to resent the way he was grilling her. "You just have to know every little detail, don't you, Bradley? You really need to treat me this way and make me tell you over and over how sorry I am about everything?" Ashley asked curtly . Her Irish temper was beginning to peek through her regret at how yesterday had gone. "Well...I think I have a right to know, Ash...don't you?" Brad said in a tone Ashley couldn't decide was actually conciliatory or not. She stared at the man she'd married a year ago. "Okay...I'll tell you...every little detail...just like you want," she said spitefully. "What do you want to know?" "Oh, I was just waiting for you to go on," Brad said mildly. He looked at her over the brim of his mug. He waited. "All right," Ashley said more calmly, "we sat and talked...yelled at each other, as you so kindly pointed out..." "Was what you said, not me..." Bradley murmured. "Why, yes...thank you so much for reminding me. We were there yelling at each other and then..." Ashley's eyes lost their focus for a moment and the stiffness left her face. "I don't know how to explain it, but I, all of a sudden, I could think again. It was like someone threw a bucket of ice water in my face or something. Suddenly, I could feel...that cheap damn folding chair I was sitting on was missing one of the rubber things on the end of the leg and it was uncomfortable to sit on the seat...and the noise was blaring in my ears and...oh, I don't know. I just kind of woke up...and you weren't there...and I didn't know what to do..." "Could we back up for just a sec, hun?" Brad asked considerately, cutting into Ashley's recitation. She nodded. "Something I don't understand is why you locked that big door behind you." Ashley frowned, apparently not quite understanding. "You keep saying that but I don't know what you're talking about, Brad. We didn't lock anything..." she said without conviction. "Well...the damned thing was sure as hell locked when I got there, baby," Brad announced. "I guess you never knew...you see...I ran after you trying to catch you or I wouldn't have seen all this. When I got to that fucking door, I pounded on it so hard people thought I was crazy or something." Brad put his coffee down and held up his fists so his wife could see. The flesh on the underside of his hands where he'd slammed them against the heavy door was puffy and already beginning to turn black and blue. The bruises would be with him for a long time. Ashley hung her head and her shoulders jerked with the force of her crying. "I'm so..." she began. "Sorry...yeah, I know," Brad finished for her. "Still...it happened and my hands hurt...and all the "sorrys" in the world won't make them one damn bit better, will they? "God, Bradley...I can't explain it," Ashley sobbed. "I wasn't really functioning, then I was awake...like someone threw a switch." She wasn't able to talk for a few minutes. "It was horrible," she continued when she could. "We went to look for you but we couldn't find you anywhere. I didn't have my cell phone..." Her voice broke, remembering she hadn't had the phone because she'd walked off and left her purse on the hotel's front desk. "I...I finally remembered...I figured out I should go up to our room...but then I didn't have a key. I had to talk the desk clerk into giving me another card, but you weren't there and I didn't know where you were." She stopped for a space. Just looking at her husband was so hard now. Without her anger to support her, she was reduced again to a miserable shame at what had happened. "When I called you, you sounded so strange," Ashley continued. "It was like you were someone else and I didn't know you...then there was that awful explosion and you weren't there anymore. I couldn't get through to you for a long time and then you wouldn't come back...you didn't even want to talk to me," she said. Her voice failed her at the last. She could only whisper. "Is that all, Ash?" Brad asked in a more gentle tone than she expected. She nodded, not trusting herself enough to speak. Brad looked at her, brooding over what she had said...and what she hadn't said. He saw she was distraught and worried. He didn't think she could fake the concern and shame she showed...but he hadn't thought she could do such humiliating things to him either. He refilled his mug to delay a few seconds longer and then sat at the table across from Ashley. "There are a couple of things that aren't right about this, Ash," he said. "I still don't have a good handle on why a woman who married me...said she loved me and promised she would have nothing to do ever again with this swapping shit...I don't understand how she can throw all those promises away in the blink of an eye and waltz off with strangers." "No...don't even try, Ash...you already did it. I just can't get my mind around the whole concept of how someone who loves me can dump me so damn fast she runs off an forgets her purse. Do you have any idea how low that makes me feel? Do you have any notion how humiliating it was for me to run after you like a puppy following his master down the hall?" Ashley stared at him. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "Ashley," Brad said earnestly, "do you have any clue what it's like to call out to the one you love...and who should love you...and she doesn't hear...she just keeps on walking? Do you?" Ashley couldn't see his hands. It was taking all of his willpower to keep them in his lap to avoid balling up his fist and shaking it in her face. "I think you know how much it hurt for me to watch them with their hands all over you," Brad continued after a moment. "You told me what you were feeling...or not feeling or something like that...I don't understand it. You see...I can't imagine how you could not be in control of yourself...but there it is. I'm not sure I'll ever feel any better about that, but...who knows?" He watched his wife cry for a long moment. There was a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he swallowed. "The thing that is really killing me," he said when he had control again, "is...I don't know how to say it...it's like you deserted me at the snap of a finger...you said you didn't even think about what you were doing. I thought we had a...what do you want to call it...a deep commitment to each other? "But you left it behind and walked away without any consideration for me at all. That hurts, Ashley. Right now, I've got a big ache right in the pit of my stomach and an empty place in me where I used to have all this trust in you...you killed that and I don't know if I'll ever get it back." Ashley continued to cry. She wished she could curl up somewhere and die. "I'm soooo sorry, honey," Ashley finally choked out. All I wanted was a weekend alone with you where we didn't have to worry about the kids and everything. I thought it would be so romantic and I could just love you the whole time...and it blew up right in my face, darling...it just blew up." After a moment's silence, Brad cleared his throat. "So...I don't know, Ash," Brad said. "I don't know where we go to from here...and I don't know how we get there." He let the words lay there for a time. "But...I do know we can't do anything if you're going to keep on lying to me," he said harshly. "Huh uh...don't do it...you are still lying," he said quickly when she would have protested. "Oh, I don't know if you're telling me the truth about what was going on in your head or whether anything was going on like you told me...I don't know if I can trust you after you cut the ground out from under my feet like that...but I can't prove anything I didn't see." "But I can see this. I know three lies you've told me...one on the drive up to Dallas and two more outright lies sitting right here in our kitchen." "First," he said, plowing on. He held up the forefinger on his right hand to keep count. "First...you said you hadn't had any time to tell me about the convention being held in that hotel...and that's a lie, isn't it, Ashley?" She bit her lip and nodded. "Well, I'm glad you can admit it," Brad remarked unsympathetically. "Maybe it's a good thing...I don't know. I do know the hotel called you on Monday because I rewound the messages on the machine. It didn't happen just before we left like you led me to believe. If you'd intended to tell me, you had plenty of time over those three days, Ashley! "Dammit, don't you think I should be entitled to a vote in something like that?" he asked. His finger trembled in the air from his anger. "You need to know this," he said when his pulse dropped a little. "I'm tired of being a second class partner in this marriage. I'm tired of taking the short end of the stick all the time and I'm not going to put up with it anymore." He took a deep breath. "Second, you told me you didn't have a clue there would be anyone up there you knew from you and your ex-damn-husband's wife swapping, fuck...parties. And third, you told me you wanted to spend a romantic weekend with me. That's what we started talking about a couple months ago, Ashley...but you changed it." "Don't say it, Ashley...don't say a word..." he warned her. He was holding three fingers up in the air. "Ash," he said leaning over the table to emphasize his words, "there isn't a damned thing romantic about an orgy...and that's what those people were going to do...what they are doing right this minute. You've been lying to me for three days about what you wanted out of this trip and that hurts. "And when you said you didn't think you'd run into anyone you knew, you lied again, Ash. You and your hubby fucked with...hell, I don't even know how many slime balls here in San Antonio. I don't want to know. But Dallas is still in Texas and so are we. "You knew damned good and well when you heard about the convention it would...I'm sure it did...draw a crowd from our own fair city. There were bound to be a lot of people from here up at that group fuck...and you were looking for them. "I watched you in the parking lot, Ash. You were practically standing on your tiptoes to look over all the cars and staring at people to find someone you knew...someone who could take you out of your boring life with that fool of a husband you got married to," he said bitterly. "You found what you were looking for, Ash. Now...I'm pretty sure old Floyd and Ann weren't who you wanted to be there. You wanted to find someone else you knew and you would have found more folks there if you'd stayed longer. You know...the only thing I only wonder about now is who it was you figured on being at that convention. "What's his name, Ashley?" Brad asked her, his voice low and angry. He watched her sob for a little while. She was shaking her head no, but he didn't believe her. He couldn't reach out to console her, though it hurt him to watch her cry so inconsolably. His own pain was still too fresh...too powerful. "I...I'm going to go work on the girls' dollhouse," he said when he could stand it no more. He stood. He wanted, but couldn't reach down to touch her shoulder. Turning, he marched out the door and into the garage. Chapter 3 Saturday was no better than Friday for the couple who'd been married only a year and a few days. They didn't try to avoid each other, but neither did they seek each other out. They spoke politely to each other, discussing inconsequential topics, but the passion between them was dead. Sunday flowed into Monday and the weekly work schedule reasserted itself. Brad slept on the living room sofa more often than not. Ashley slept in a cold bed upstairs with the door closed so no one would hear her cry. Brad worked a lot of hours overtime, even when he could have chosen not to. He came home after the supper table had been cleared only to be with Cathy and Cindy for a while before they had to go to bed. He was not eating well and was loosing weight but he told himself this was a good thing. He got too little exercise and could stand to lose a couple of pounds. Ashley went to work, picked up her babies from the daycare, cooked dinners and cleaned house. Beyond that, she spent much time staring blankly into space. Playing old favorite CDs no longer consoled her and no book she picked up held her interest. The first week passed, then a second...and a third. The children were quieter and better behaved. They couldn't comprehend what exactly had happened to their world, but they could sense its impact. Brad and Ashley lavished affection and care on the two little girls, but shared none between themselves. * Across That Line "And I was doing that because I really wanted to be there...where the excitement was happening and stuff, you know?" Her voice dropped in pitch and volume as she spoke. "I was lying to myself some too...I never let myself look at why I wasn't telling you...but that's no excuse. I'm a grown woman and I knew better." She looked away to hide the sudden sheen of tears in the corner of her eyes. She dabbed at the dampness with a tissue brought with her just for this possibility. "I've tried and tried to figure out whether you were right about me wanting to find...a specific someone there but I can't, Brad," she said in a forceful whisper. "There was no man...honey, I know you can't believe me right now, but there hasn't been a man in my thoughts except you from the day we met." She was quiet for a while. "I think...I think I was actually looking for someone though," she admitted finally, "but I wasn't looking for anyone in particular. It was just a vague...hazy idea of maybe introducing you to someone...nice...to show you all swingers weren't the ogres you think they are," she said, finishing with a rush. "I just wanted you to see I wasn't a slimy thing that crawled out from under a rock just because Scott and I went to some clubs for a while." Her voice broke slightly. She was trying to be matter-of-fact about what she was saying, but it was too personal. The wetness in her eyes grew and overflowed. "I swear to you, darling," Ashley said fervently. "I'm sure that's what I was feeling...I never thought about the sex going on up there. It sounds dumb, but the sex was the least of it." "I never said you were slimy or anything of the sort," Brad protested softly. "Ash..." He wet his lips. "Look...I know in my head...I know, intellectually speaking, that people who go to places like that aren't evil monsters. You're one of those people...you used to go to those clubs, and I love you more than life itself, so all of them can't be." He stopped. It was hard to speak around the lump in his throat. For the first time in a month, he admitted to himself how miserable he was these days. Ashley's heart had almost stopped when Brad said he loved her...not he "had" loved her...he said he did love her "more than life itself." She began to hope just when she'd decided there was none. "I still don't know why I did those things, Brad...I don't have an excuse," she said in a low voice. "I'm so ashamed...swingers don't do those things," she said softly. "Everything in the lifestyle is about being discreet and being behind closed doors. When Floyd told me they went over the line he was being nice to himself," she explained. "I've tried to remember what I was thinking when I saw Ann and Floyd, but I can't," she said, almost moaning. "I can see in my mind a split-second of incredible surprise and a realization they were the last people in the world I wanted to meet there and then...I was just overwhelmed with everything, Brad. I don't know any other way to say it." She stared straight ahead, then shook her head in dismay. She sniffed and touched the damp tissue to her nose before swallowing hard. "I hate myself for letting them kiss me like they did, honey. I knew it was terribly wrong and I couldn't stand knowing what you would think of me...and then everything...the lights, the crowd, everyone moving around like bumble bees, the excitement I was trying to push away...I felt a little faint...my heart was pounding...and then I disconnected," she said. "I swear to you, Brad, I don't remember how I got down that hall and into that room. All I have is a foggy memory here and there." She had to stop to breathe. "I remember swatting Floyd's hands off me...I have a vague memory of being glad he'd only touched me through my clothes...that's not much, but I guess I have to take what I can get," she said slowly. "I don't even remember Ann touching me at all but I'm sure she didn't after that. I don't remember much about what we talked about, but what I do remember, it was just talk about friends and couples we used to know...and the weather. We talked about that for a minute or two, I remember. "Then...I was in a panic all of a sudden and I didn't know why," she said plaintively. "I guess my brain suddenly realized what I'd done to you. For sure, I knew you weren't with me and everything came crashing down. I looked all around but I couldn't find you and I screamed at Floyd and Ann. "You...I think Floyd said you must be at the bar and he went to look but I yelled at him because he couldn't possibly know what you looked like and I had to go look myself. Then I went to all the hotel bars and the food places and bars in the city convention center next to the hotel. I couldn't get rid of Floyd...and I finally hit him on the arm and made him go away. "I'm sure everyone up there remembers the crazy lady who cried and screamed at while she ran from one bar to the next," she said quietly. "One place said they were calling the cops and I ran away," she remarked with shame. "Anyway, I looked all over before even thinking about my cell phone...I was so stupid," she said angrily. It took me forever to make them understand they had to give me another key card and..." Ashley stopped her narration abruptly. She'd told herself she was going to tell her husband what was in her heart without making excuses and without embellishment. She dabbed at fresh tears with the soaked tissue. Shifting his body around, Brad took a handkerchief from his back pocket and put it in her hand. She nodded gratefully. "Well...anyway..." she said at length, "you know all the rest." They were quiet for a long while, each digesting what she'd said." The silence lengthened and deepened. "Brad..." Ashley whispered brokenly when she couldn't hold back any longer. "Please don't leave me, baby," she begged. "I need you so bad...I love you with all my heart and the girls love you more than they do their real dads..." She cried silently for a moment. Brad said nothing. He'd thought she was the one about to leave the marriage, not him. He cleared his throat. "Honey," Ashley said desperately, "you said before we got married you thought sometimes we shouldn't get married because I knew all about being married and you didn't know anything...remember?" "You were so, so wrong," she said bitterly. "I was married twice before we met...and I screwed both of them up. I don't know one thing about how to make a marriage work," she admitted. "I think you're my last chance," she whispered. "If I can't make it with the most wonderful man I ever met, I can't make it with anyone." "Please don't throw me out, Brad...darling," she begged. "I can't change what I already did, but I know what I did wrong and I won't ever be like that again, baby...please...we can make this work. My God, my girls love you so much, honey...please?" There was a long silence. The two young girls laughed happily at something one of the cartoon figures said. Ashley's heart sank as she waited. She gave up. There was nothing more to be said. Wearily, she gathered herself to rise and go to...somewhere else in the house. Brad took her hand in his. He didn't move otherwise. He had already turned back to the TV. Ashley hardly dared breathe. It had been so long since her husband had accepted any physical contact, much less reached out to touch her. Slowly, she put her other hand on top of his. Lifting slowly, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers softly before letting their coupled hands fall gently to her lap. Her eyes were brimming with new tears, but she refused to mop them away with the handkerchief. It was only when the final credits were showing on the screen that she released her tight grasp of Brad's hand and wiped her cheeks dry so the children would never know she'd been crying. Brad climbed the stairs that night to join his wife in their bedroom for the first time in a month. He didn't know whether he was right in doing it or not, but he loved the woman he'd married. If he wasn't going to leave and divorce her, he owed it to himself to let things begin to recover as much as they could. He didn't hold out much hope, but he wasn't going to work so hard at learning how to be single again. Chapter 4 Another summer had come, and almost gone, in southern Texas. It was hot, but that was normal. Folks didn't bother remarking on it except to wonder facetiously what this thing "rain" was that they heard about on the Weather Channel. Five-year-old Cathy would be starting kindergarten in a few weeks and four-year-old Cindy was an enthusiastic force of nature doing her best to energize an entire pre-kindergarten class. They were growing taller now, developing their own personalities. Next week, the final hearing would be held in the Bexar County Courthouse and the adoption proceedings would be complete. New birth certificates would be issued naming Brad as their father and everything. When they started their classes, their last name would be the same for the first time in their lives. They loved their parents and were loved in return, and they knew it. The marriage between their mother and "new" father had survived, but it had been tough. There had been disagreements, a few arguments, and many late night discussions, but their relationship was intact. Most people would say it had healed. Brad wasn't so sure. That his wife had "disconnected," as she put it, under the stress of the bubbling excitement and all the activity at the swinger's hotel last year still depressed him at times. Even though she swore she would never again yield to a temptation to keep him in the dark about anything, Brad had doubts. Ashley seemed sincere though. He had no reason to doubt her...not really. He decided she probably meant what she said. It didn't cheer him much on those occasions when he let himself brood on the shame and humiliation she'd heaped on him that afternoon in Dallas. There were too many things left unexplained...things that had crushed him at the time...but things Ashley was more than happy to forget as fast as she could. She had shamed herself too and suffered herself. Hers was a self-imposed chastisement; Brad hadn't had a choice. Seemingly, Ashley didn't understand some things she'd said to Brad as they sat on the sofa watching the girls. For instance, she'd remarked a couple of times on the "excitement" she'd felt. She even blamed it for having been overwhelmed in the hotel lobby. It told him she craved excitement...she missed it. She'd also told him very solemnly the sexual atmosphere there, real or perceived, was not a part of what had happened. Brad knew different. Ashley was truthful...but she didn't seem to realize sex was the source of the excitement. The breathless anticipation of the sex act was what had been driving her mood up there in the hotel. No amount of talking could convince Ashley this was true. She accepted what he said but there was a barrier in her mind he could not breach. She could not feel his concerns. She thought she was prepared to successfully suppress any future excitements and disconnects. She'd never let herself get into that condition ever again, she said. Brad, though, lived in fear of the next occasion Ashley might feel the need for that excitement she'd anticipated...and experienced...in that Dallas hotel. He lived with it every day. A philosopher once said all men lived lives of quiet desperation. Brad knew exactly what the man meant. * Across That Line Brad's mouth was suddenly dry. His barelegged wife came closer and his breathing grew short and fast. "Sugar..." Ashley whispered softly, "if I...wiggle everything...will you make love to me all night long?" "Oh, God yes," Brad responded hoarsely. Ashley smiled and unbuttoned one of the two buttons and moved between her husband's knees. Late in the night, as they lay with their bodies entangled, Ashley cooed, "I've got what all those girls wanted today, my darling precious husband. I've got you." While she continued to tease her husband with the hot-button phrase for weeks, it had lost it's sting and its meaning had been transformed. In fact, he welcomed it whenever he heard it from that night forward.