Reluctant Cuckold (31 page)

“Yes, Ashley, I was just curious.”

“I was sucking on Jim’s big fat cock, Dave.”

I imagined coughing, maybe spilling my drink a little.

“Pardon?”

“I was on my knees, my tits out in front of him, and I had his cock in my mouth when you knocked. After Tamara sent you upstairs, I went to town on Jim’s big, fat, beautiful cock. Does that upset you?”

“No Ashley, I was just wondering.”

“Then I took his balls in my mouth and swirled my tongue around as his cock throbbed against my face. I wanted to make that cock utterly rock hard, do you know why, Dave?”

“Why, Ashley?”

“Because I wanted it good and ultra hard for when he fucked me.”

Suddenly I came.

Ashley and I had dinner at a neighborhood sushi restaurant.

The waiter knows us—knows what sake we like and to bring me the child version of chopsticks, because I’ve never bothered to master the regular kind. I was slightly distracted as Ashley talked about the upcoming weekend.

We’d be going to the Jersey shore. Mark and Camilla would be back in from Chicago, and one of Mark’s friends had rented a house for the week.

At the bar after dinner, Ashley ordered a martini, so I told the bartender, “Make that two.”

Ashley talked about Camilla’s relationship. “Obviously I’d love for her to be out here, but I think the compromise for Mark is moving to the city,” she said. “I just don’t know how Camilla could handle suburban nowhere.”

“Well Jersey gets a bad rap,” I said. “A lot of the state is farms and picturesque grasslands.”

“Oh, I know,” Ashley replied, “but Mark’s talking suburbia, and Camilla loves Chicago city life.”

“Sure, I understand,” I said, “so how are things going with that conference? You haven’t mentioned it lately. Any updates?”

“Not really. The CFO’s backed off somewhat on his hard-line stance, but we won’t really know until we get it officially budgeted.”

“OK, so it’s not stressing you out as much as it was?”

“No, it’s not in the positioning phase anymore, so it’s kind of out of our hands.”

“Have things gotten better there in general, lately?”

“How do you mean?” she asked curiously.

“Like that rumor that was going around? Has that become a thing of the past?”

“Yeah, I think to the people who matter, anyway.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t think upper management holds it against me, and I don’t think my boss does. It wasn’t a company event. People realize you have private lives.”

“So no one says anything to you?”

“Well no, of course not. I mean no one really did when it happened. It was Tamara who told me.”

“Tamara told you?”

“Yeah, that there was a rumor going around about us that Monday. And yeah, I started thinking I should get my résumé in order.”

“It must have been horrible,” I said.

“Oh, it was. I’m not the kind of girl who cries at work, but I was in meltdown mode. I went into the ladies room and cried like crazy that Monday.”

I reached out and patted her shoulder. “I’m sure it must have been incredibly difficult.”

“Well that first week was really hard. It’s embarrassing being gossiped about. And having to stand up and give a presentation to sales, knowing that they all had heard.”

“I’m sure,” I said, “I don’t know how you handled that.”

“Well, my boss has my back, and after the first week I realized something about myself.”

“What’s that?” I asked, “what did you realize?”

“That I wasn’t going to let something like that break me or bring me down. And my friends are still my friends. And upper management judges me on my performance and ability.”

“Sure.”

“I mean I’m not naïve,” she said.

“Not naive about what?”

“I’m not so naive to think people have forgotten what happened, and some people probably still do talk about me, but I’m not going to let it bother me. I’m like, ‘To hell with them.’ I’m not going to continue to be embarrassed. I’ve moved on.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Do you feel like people treat you differently?”

“Some of the sales guys do, sure. Like they’ll flirt now, where they wouldn’t before. And I have a sixty-year-old client who I’m sure knows, because he’s a lot more flirtatious since.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I let it roll off me. It’s become a big-whatever.”

“How about Jim?”

“What about him?”

“Do you have to interact with him? Is it weird?”

“It was, and I was mega-pissed at him, obviously. But last week, he asked if we could take a walk and he groveled and apologized profusely.”

“What did he say?”

“Just how terribly sorry he was, how he never intended for any rumors to start.”

“So he admitted he started it?”

“Yeah, but how that wasn’t his intention.”

“What did he say?”

“He said that when he was back out at the party, he told Chris and Greg—two sales guys who were there—what had happened in confidence.”

“So later that night—like, afterwards—he told them? While at the party?”

“Yeah, he said he wasn’t thinking and was buzzed and told them not to say anything. But then one of them told someone else and someone else told someone else. He was as surprised, upset and embarrassed to hear about it as I was. He said he was a monumental idiot and basically begged me to forgive him.”

“What did you say back?”

“Well, I could hold a grudge and avoid him forever, or I could just write it off as him being buzzed and in a moment of immaturity. And I don’t think he would have intentionally spread that story about me. So I forgave him.”

“And things have been OK with him since?”

“Yeah, we got past it. Things are cool with us now.”

“That’s good,” I replied, not knowing what else to say. We ordered up two more martinis and I stared off at some random soccer game.

“Well it’s been a bit weird and embarrassing for me as well,” I said.

“How so?”

“Well like when I got back from Vegas and hung out with your friends and Tamara—that was weird for me. I mean, I know how Tamara feels about me.”

“What was weird?”

“I just felt like a third wheel, like I got a ‘What’s he doing here’ vibe.”

“Oh, not at all,” Ashley replied. “She even asked where you were. When I told her your flight was coming in, she said, ‘Tell Dave to swing by, it’d be good to see him.’ ”

“Well, I get a sense she doesn’t like me much.”

“She likes you, Dave. She even told me the other day that she was impressed with how maturely you’ve handled this.”

“Well, it’s been awkward,” I said, “and it’s part of the reason I didn’t show up at that happy hour.”

“The one where you had to work late?”

“Yeah.”

“So you didn’t really have to work late?”

“No, I did,” I said, “but that just kind of added to it.”

“So are you not coming to the happy hour on Friday?”

“No, I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying? That you’re going to avoid any of my work social functions?”

“God no, Ashley, I wasn’t saying that at all. I was just saying that if I didn’t have to work late the last time, it would have been a little awkward seeing everyone is all.”

“Well, you don’t have to go on Friday if you don’t want to.”

“I want to go, Ashley, and I’ll be there for sure.”

“I don’t want you to feel awkward.”

“I’m OK with it, Ash” I said, as I took a big gulp of my martini. “Can I ask you one question, though?”

“Sure, of course.”

“I mean about that night, at the party—”

“Yeah?”

“It’s nothing, really, no big deal, but I was just wondering, and I want to be able to talk openly about anything and everything and communication is key—”

“OK?”

“I was wondering, I mean if you don’t mind telling me, but at the party, I mean with him, did you have an orgasm that night?”

Ashley look startled at first. Then she took my hand and said, “Wow, really, do you really want to know?”

I nodded affirmative.

“Yes, I did.”

I looked away, then back at her, before asking, “Was it intense?”

“Well, given that I had two, you could say that.”

I nodded, straight-faced, like she had just told me what topping she likes on her pizza.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, it’s OK,” I replied.

“No it’s not, I think this second martini combined with the sake is starting to hit me. I’m really sorry, I apologize.”

“It’s OK,” I said. “You were being truthful, and that’s important.”

“Are you OK?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m good. I mean, it was good to talk through this.”

“I appreciate you being understanding, I really do, Dave.”

“Hey, I love you, Ash, nothing’s ever going to change that.”

“I love you, too.”

“So there’s not going to be any karaoke bars this weekend in Jersey?” I said. “I know how Mark and Camilla fancy themselves American Idol wannabes.”

“Tell you what,” Ashley replied, “I will feign laryngitis at the mere hint of that suggestion.”

“OK, I like that,” I said. “So, who all else is going to be down there this weekend?”

After we returned home, Ashley crashed out quickly. I went into the living room and saw that Mike was online.

“Hey bro,” he wrote, “did you have the talk?”

“Yeah, I did. We just got back a little while ago.”

“How did it go?”

“Not exactly great. And now I got myself roped into going to a work happy hour of hers on Friday. I don’t know how I can show my face there.”

“Tell me what happened, Dave.”

“I did what we talked about. After getting her to talk about her job, I asked if the rumor had become yesterday’s news.”

“And?”

“She said she was mortified at first, but then I got this whatever-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-stronger vibe from her.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, but she said things are fine between Jim Murta and her now. He apologized and there’s no hard feelings. She’s forgiven him and moved on.”

“So you think with her forgiving him, she might be interested in hooking up with him again?”

“Well no, I wasn’t thinking that exactly—but sure, it’s more possible now. Then I said I was embarrassed by the whole thing, and that was part of why I didn’t show up to her last happy hour.”

“OK and?”

“Well, that set off conversational fireworks,” I typed. “She asked if I really didn’t have to work late, and I was all flustered, trying to explain myself.”

“OK,” Mike replied, “I have some thoughts on that, but continue, Dave.”

“Well I found myself in conversational retreat, with her asking, ‘So, you’re not going to go to any work functions with me?’ I said of course I would, and then agreed to go on Friday. You don’t know how embarrassing that is going to be.”

“I take it this Jim Murta guy is going to be there?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I’m assuming, and Tamara will be there and everyone there will know the rumor.”

“OK, was there anything else?”

“Yeah, I knew I had only one chance to get at the ‘Does it still resonate’ question, so I asked her if she had an orgasm.”

“And?”

“She said she had, and when I asked her if it was intense, she said, considering that she had a couple orgasms, you could say that.”

“Hmm, OK.”

“She apologized for telling me that, but yeah, she still said it.”

“What did you say to that?”

“I dropped it. I changed the subject. I didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t want to put my foot in my mouth even more.”

“OK, so now you have this happy hour to contend with?”

“Yes, and I felt so checkmated. I don’t see any way of getting out of it, without Ashley reading bullshit now. I’m so fucked, man. I have no choice but to go.”