The Challenge:
So, what does Rick do?
… I will leave it up to other writers to come up with their own [ending].
So, do your best. Have fun with it. You don’t need my permission.
– Kalimaxos
That’s how Kalimaxos ended his story, “Just Once… If You Don’t Mind?”, published 4/18/21.
I mentally accepted the challenge as soon as I read the story so many weeks ago. Then I demurred as I worked through another project and saw other authors’ endings pile up. Expecting that the gist of my intended version would be covered by all of that work, I gave up. I’m sure I’ve missed some of the other versions, but none of the ones I did read have quite aligned with what I wanted to try so here’s my offering.
*
When I finished reading Marcy’s “I’m going to fuck Dr. Asshole for 6 weeks, then let’s forgive and forget” letter, I noticed Leslie was at the kitchen island filling her glass again.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“I will be,” I replied.
She nodded and came back with the bottle and her filled glass. Sitting next to me this time, she refilled my glass and turned to look at me with those doe-like eyes. “So, Rick? What do we do?” She looked at me,… took a sip of her wine,… and looked at me.
I didn’t know at that moment. I looked down staring at the wine in my glass. It was hard to stop thinking about what Marcy and I were going to do six weeks from now and instead think about what I was going to do about this evening. I knew I needed to make a decision and began thinking about things for a consultant’s point of view. I started imagining a spreadsheet with rows of action options and columns of possible outcomes. I wondered if I’d wasted 24 years, then recalled images of my children’s faces,.. nope not wasted. I thought about love and why -! The sound of wine being poured into an empty glass broke through my reverie.
“I’m sorry, Leslie. I’m obviously distracted. Didn’t you just fill that glass before you sat down?”
“Yes, but that was fifteen minutes ago, Rick. I certainly get that this has been a shock to you and I think we can agree that Marcy should have told you what was going on. If you want me to go away, I can check back with you later this week. If it would be helpful for you, I could stay and go over options with you. I have a degree in psychology with an emphasis on research so I can be a pretty decent sounding board. If you’re just mad as hell at Marcy and some really hard revenge sex would make you feel better, then I can also help with that.” She stared intently at me while taking a sip of wine.
I thought I might just need a sounding board to keep an even keel in the next few days. Marcy should have damn well had the decency to talk to me before she left – or at least left a note or something besides a cold rumpled side of the bed when she left. Was all of that, “love you forever” stuff in the letter Leslie brought, just B.S.? Your – goddamned right I was pissed-off at her!
“Leslie, I’ve never seen you drink anything but wine. Is your repertoire broader than that?”
“It is, but I can get out of hand pretty quickly with some of the other stuff so I usually stick with wine for back yard parties and situations where I’m not sure how things will go.”
“Well, I’ve got a handle of good Reposado, a new bottle of Cointreau, and a three pound bag of limes. Can I make you margarita?”
“Oooohh,.. tequila is my Achilles heel.”
I turned on some danceable music and in about an hour, we’d each knocked out two glasses of really top shelf margaritas. I say “glasses” because I’m not sure how many that would be at our local watering hole. I made them in souvenir beer glasses with a line labeled, “0.5 Litre”, a half inch from the top. Leslie felt good against me. In fact she felt very good. When we danced, she pressed her entire body into mine. It seemed that the only parts of our bodies not in constant contact were below our knees.
Leslie had just gone from running her luscious lips up my neck to running the tip of her tongue along my collar bone. I held her a little more firmly against me and she responded by making a slight shimmy motion to make sure I knew she wasn’t wearing a bra that would keep her hardened nipples from making an impression on my chest.
“Leslie, I don’t want to wake up alone. Can you stay through breakfast?” She didn’t utter a word, just looked directly into my eyes and nodded rapidly three times. I scooped her up and turned toward the hallway. Her eyes got as big as saucers and then she put her hands on either side of my head and pressed her lips firmly against mine. As we entered the hall, her tongue entered my mouth. We stayed interconnected all the way to the master suite.
That event became exactly what Leslie had offered, “revenge sex”. It began as a bout of missionary and then changed to doggy that my vicious thrusts turned into a prone boning rush to orgasm. It was harshly enacted by both parties. Its harshness might possibly be attested to by visible bruises on hip bones or arms in a day or two.
A while later, she woke me up and we enjoyed a more leisurely exchange of fluids. A few hours later, I woke her with my tongue and when she grabbed my hair and held me in place, I knew I was providing her significant pleasure. She returned the favor and we drifted off to sleep once again.
With sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains, I was awakened by the wonderful sensation of soft kisses on my lips, eyes, lips, neck, chest and back to my lips. Without words she proceeded to initiate the sweetest and most loving session of physical intimacy I’d experienced in some months.
I let the office know I’d be in after lunch and made breakfast for the two of us. Leslie was very sweet and she headed out the back door and through the gate to her house after a breakfast highlighted by laughter, bacon, eggs, and French toast. Her retreating form was also very sweet.
Thinking about what I’d just spent the last 18 hours doing brought me back to the big question. Having indulged in some revenge, some fun, and some pain relief, I now required some time in serious thought. Did these activities make everything OK between Marcy and myself? Did our marriage stand a chance? I needed to lay out the facts.
1. Marcy really believed I had cheated on her in Korea and the desert.
2. I “knew” she had cheated on me, but really had no proof about her early hours at the hotel that stopped when I returned.
3. She said in her letter and the phone call from hell that her fucking Dr. Asshole and my time with Leslie are totally insignificant as far as us spending the rest of our lives together in a blissful, loving Happily-Ever-After.
4. I knew my “cheating” with Deirdre was unacceptable, but was a one time, “OMG, we’re actually ALIVE”, non-penetrative event that lasted one hour.
5. Marcy’s fuckfest with Dr. Asshole was pre-planned, deceptive, and launched without so much as a kiss and a, “good-bye, I love you”.
6. Her letter, delivered by way of her prearranged, “Here, I left you some microwaveable leftover pussy in a Tupperware container in the fridge,” was an ultimatum that, boiled down to the nitty gritty was:
“I really don’t give a damn about what you think, I’m doing what I want and – FUCK – YOU! That message delivered, I would still rather spend the rest of my days in a comfortable home with you and not have to work too hard on relationships for the rest of my days. If you aren’t willing to accept all this then Kiss-Off!! I won’t contend a divorce, and I’ll fuck Dr. Trey or anyone else I want to as long as they’ll have me so just split the proceeds of our life together and have a nice life. I’ll see you on, ‘family holidays’, maybe.”
This all boiled down to total miscommunication for items 1, 2, 4, and if I were honest, all of number 6, though it was her miscommunication, not mine. Item 3 was,… well,… it was,… not untrue if we both totally and unreservedly accepted it as our future path.
Number 5 was a tough one. Even knowing she was sneaking out to cheat on me for 6 weeks, if she honestly expected to completely reconcile our relationship upon her return, wouldn’t it be in her best interest to leave on a good solid, “I love you and will miss you,” footing?? That would align with her ostensible desire to show she was still, “in love,” with me,… wouldn’t it?!?!
I took a few days off work to try to make sense of all of this. I did take Leslie up on her offer to help me analyze our situation and focus on the long term while trying to avoid short term hurts. She was very professional and really knew her stuff. I was impressed.
The week after the call from hell, Marcy called on my cell while I was at work. I closed my office door and tried to not say anything and just let her talk as much as possible.
“Rick, thanks for taking my call. I’d understand if you hadn’t.”
“I didn’t expect to hear from you for at least another month, Marcy.”
“That would have been too long, Rick.”
“What does ‘too long’, even mean. When you left without so much as an x’s and o’s sticky note on the fridge, I figured we were done. That really hurt.”
“‘Too long’ means I’m calling because I really miss you, Rick. Saying I’m sorry and begging your forgiveness seems a little hollow over the phone from South America, but I am,.. very sorry. That was stupid and arrogant of me and I apologize from the bottom of my heart.”
“I like the sound of that, but it doesn’t do much to assuage the feelings you left behind, especially coupled with our last phone conversation and what was essentially a, ‘take it or leave it, but I don’t really fucking care what you think anymore’ letter.”
“No, Rick!” Marcy sounded serious. “I was feeling full of myself and in a rush to jump into this new experience, but neither Dr. Trey nor anyone else I’ve ever met makes me feel the way you do!”
“Odd way to show it. Thanks for calling, Marcy. Thanks for taking time from your busy work and off-duty schedule with Dr. Asshat to call me. I’ve got a meeting to manage.”
“I love you Rick.” The call ended.
As I headed for my meeting, I realized I would not provide professional quality management for the meeting. I got James, one of my officemates to take over and went back to my office. I thought about all of the emotions and feeling her phone call had brought up,……
… I had loved Marcy with all my heart for most of my life;
… if I had never known what was going on, would it truthfully feel any different,
… would I still yearn for her touch,…?
… could I still think any other woman on the face of God’s green earth would give me rescue signs or come to my rescue of I were stuck with someone at a party,…?
… Was she really truly a different woman than the one I married,.. loved, trusted, yearned for, wanted to grow old with,.. expected to dance at our kid’s weddings with,…?!?!?
I went home and looked in the fridge,.. nothing worth eating. I went to the fridge in the garage that was our overflow/drink fridge. In the freezer was some frozen stuff I didn’t want to mess with plus one leftover slice of, “all the meats” pizza and a half gallon of French vanilla ice cream….DINNER!
While the pizza was getting the magna-defrost treatment, I posted up, (military term for one reporting to their place fo duty), the high-powered blender Marcy had insisted upon having and created a milk shake. Well,.. if you can call vodka, bourbon, coffee liqueur, triple sec and vanilla ice cream a “milk shake”.
I was half-way through the pizza slice when Leslie walked into the kitchen with a casserole dish. “Rick, what on earth are you eating?!?”
I explained the menu and why there wasn’t any more of the main course to share.
“Rick, I’d beg to differ on what the main course actually is,” Leslie tilted her head and looked at me through her eyelashes. DAMN she was hot! She gave the blender a pulse and then poured a quarter of the blender’s contents into a .05L beer glass. After sitting down without an invitation, she opened the top of her dish to reveal eight tacos, half flour, half corn tortillas, and home made salsa. Dinner just got a whole lot better.
We talked about the things I was working on relative to Marcy’s return. The topic of her being with Dr. Shithead crept in and eventually, after the blender was empty, our own intimate interactions became the topic. Given the circumstances, that seemed entirely appropriate and eventually, the discussion moved to the way certain elements of our kissing felt so good. After I carried her up to the bedroom, the rest of the night was exciting and sensuous and yet really very relaxing.
Bruises from the first night’s revenge-fueled harshness did actually appear on Leslie but faded as the 45-day period faded. As we worked together on the analysis of my marriage, I was not unaware of her considerable sexual magnetism and over the month and a half, I allowed some late nights and working dinners and relaxed drinks to lead us to the master bedroom a half dozen times.
Part of Leslie’s advice and part of my consulting kit bag included the decision influencing philosophy that:
1. It’s always best to retain as many options as you can. Avoid making “Final”, “Absolute” decisions as long as you can to retain those options.
2. Regret is a lifelong spirit killer. Don’t allow spite or revenge or personal pride to lead you down the road to life long regret. Make decisions that you will be proud of and be able to affirm in ten or twenty years. If it’s the right thing to do, then it’s the right thing to do.
In keeping with that philosophy, I took steps to help me feel prepared for Marcy’s return. I spent three meetings with a “Family Law” attorney. I always thought that was a misnomer. Perhaps they should be called, “Unfamily Law” or possibly, “Broken Family Law” attorneys. At any rate, the attorney helped me prepare the financial moves for a dissolution as well as the divorce petition and we talked about things to consider, from a legal standpoint, in the event of a reconciliation.
Marcy called each of the remaining weeks of her “mercy mission”, and each call went similarly to the first one at my office. She emphasized her love to me and how this was a once in a lifetime adventure that went according to plan, but not necessarily according to sexual fantasy for her. She insisted that Dr. Bunghat, (not her term for him), was “different,” but certainly not “better”.
Also in keeping with those two philosophy points, a week before her return, I took the STD tests Marcy had prescribed. Leslie still came over to provide sounding board and option analysis services. A couple of days before Marcy was due to return, she brought me dinner, including wine and, I could not believe my eyes, creme brûlée.
“Well, Rick,” Leslie began, “I’m very pleased that you allowed yourself to spend some intimate time with me. You recall that I said that I would like to have a regular long-term lover again and you have been really great. If you and Marcy get it together and decide that perhaps an open relationship could actually work for you, I’d be absolutely delighted to be with you on a regular basis.”
“Leslie, you have been wonderful. You made yourself available to give me what I needed when I needed it. You were understanding and loving when I needed that, and to be totally honest, you were a total and completely awesome fucking slut when I wanted that.”
Leslie looked down, smiled an embarrassed little smile, and looked back up at Rick with pink cheeks.
“Additionally,” he continued, “your consulting assistance really helped me keep on track and enabled me to actually make some quality decisions.”
“I really feel good about that, Rick!”
“And I assure you, Leslie, that IF Marcy and I actually stay together, and If we evolve into an open marriage, you would be the first person I’d go to.”
“Thanks Rick. If you and Marcy want to talk about an open marriage, just give me a holler and we can explain things like goals and rules and communications, at least as we employ those tools. Different couples have different tools for differing needs.”
The day of Marcy’s return finally arrived. I dressed in a business suit and gathered my sets of papers that the lawyer and I had crafted. I did not take a suitcase because I did not intend to stay overnight at the hotel in any event. I looked around the house and wondered where each of us might be living and how the family might be spending future holidays if not in this house. After a deep sigh, I hefted my briefcase and headed to my car.
I did not intend to beat her to the hotel, but did. I arrived about the same time as my flight tracking app revealed her flight touched down. I parked way in the back of the parking lot to give myself some time to think. I expected her to take the shuttle to the hotel so I was out of sight of the front entrance. I was going over my decision factors and the attendant paperwork. My phone emitted the ‘text’ tone and I picked it up to see a text from Marcy.
It said she hadn’t seen me in the lobby, but sent me her room number and was praying she’d see me there by dinner time. She’d made a reservation for an hour from now at the hotel restaurant. I went over everything about six more times in a little more than a half hour and then took my briefcase, locked the car and headed into the hotel.
I told the Maitre d’ I was fifteen minutes early for a dinner reservation made by Marcy Weston and he guided me to a table against a window from which I could see planes landing at one end of the terminal. I took the seat facing the entrance – an old military defense tactic – and set the briefcase against the wall, under the table.
I didn’t have long to wait as Marcy appeared at the host stand about five minutes later. As she was shown to the table, she was looking down with a knitted brow at first but then looked at the table and her pensive expression was replaced by one of hopeful expectancy when she realized I was there. Once she saw me her eyes never left mine.
I stood as the host held her chair. She almost did a little hop toward me and threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek and then my lips. I did not attempt to stop her, nor did I return her ardor. I did exert a reasonable level of force in the hug after the first moment. It was really hard not to feel some relief that she actually did come back to me, if it was truly, “to me”.
If you’ve ever experienced multiple significant separations from your spouse, the love of your life; separations that could mean the loss of that relationship or a significant change in the dynamics of that relationship, it is a reflex to embrace in relief that some elements of that relationship still existed. She realized that the restaurant was not the place to be more effusive and released me and took her seat.
“Rick, you had me worried that you might not show and that we were done. I love you so much and this little interlude reinforced those feelings. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come tonight.”
“Marcy, I have loved you, and only you, most of my adult life. This ‘adventure’ of yours has made me reevaluate my life and our future. Let’s just try to enjoy diner and being together after this entirely voluntary separation, [I emphasized “voluntary” for this one because the military ones were not very voluntary], and then after dinner, we will need to get down to business. For now, let’s just enjoy being together and not talk about anything else. What looks good to you for your drink and do you feel hungry enough for an appetizer?”
She couldn’t read him as far as knowing exactly what he was going to tell her, but, aside from being a bit more business-like than he usually was with her, she was perceiving mixed messages from her husband. The meal went along reasonably well. Her talking mostly about things she’d seen and done in the tourist vein. Her husband was mostly in listening mode emitting an occasional, “Oh, really.”,… “ummmm”, or “Wow.”
Once the plates were cleared, Marcy began, “Thanks for a nice meal. Let’s head up to our room, Rick.”
“Not ‘our’ room, Marcy. It’s your room and it’s part of your plan for a fairy-tale ending to your personal fantasy. You didn’t see fit to include me in the planning so I see no point in jumping into it at this point.”
Marcy was trying to maintain a steady breathing rhythm. “OK, Rick. Then why the briefcase? Have you taken on extra work as a process server?”
“We’ll get to the various sets of papers in there shortly, but first I want to say a few things that very much need saying. I have loved you and only you for the better part of my life, Marcy. Over the past month and half, you’ve given me cause to reevaluate what that means.”
“Are you sure you want to have this discussion here, right in the middle of a restaurant, Rick?”
“I’m just fine here. Our table is not very near others and I have no intention of raising my voice to attract attention. As far as paperwork, the Ambassador has more business conducted in its restaurant than most other hotels in the area. Can I go on, now Marcy?”
“Yes, Certainly.”
“I have been reevaluating the meaning of ‘love’ in our relationship. Until recently I never considered what ‘love’ really meant, I just knew I loved you more than life itself. I would give my life to protect you without hesitation. I wanted your safety and health and peace of mind. Those goals were why I left the service and why I took a job with minimal travel. They are why I worked to maintain a trouble-free and comfortable home for you and the family.
“When around you, I felt proud to be your man, Marcy. Your beauty and intelligence coupled with your leadership in making things happen and accomplishing tough tasks has made me admire you professionally and personally. I depended on you for mental and emotional stability when I was troubled or challenged by issues that caused me to doubt my abilities. I had always trusted you to make good quality decisions for the betterment of our family and the strength and quality of our personal relationship.
“Our physical intimacy was the essence of that trust, that pride, that relationship. It’s what made me feel that we were truly one. One single entity that faces the world and any challenges it can throw at us together, because we are one. The epitome of our most precious touches and feelings create a new and very special being when I am linked into you making us one single being.
“That is why it hurt so very much when you cheated on me while I was in Korea.”
“I did no such thing, Rick! I was approached weekly, monthly, sometimes daily, but I NEVER gave in!”
“Oh really? What required you to come to work two hours early every day for several months and then stop when I got home?”
“Hospital training and a mentorship program. By coming in early for those months to provide training and mentoring for a cohort of fifteen new nurses, I got the promotion to chief surgical nurse and the additional money to help our family that went with it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It came to an end just as you returned and the whirlwind of emotions and family restructuring that was always part of your returns made it seem unimportant. If you had an issue with that why didn’t you ask? We could have straightened it out then.”
“I did intend to confront you about it, but it seemed we were reintegrating as a family, and I was so happy to have ‘my Marcy’ back that I just didn’t want to rock the boat and wanted to just put it behind us and move forward.”
“That’s how I felt when you came back from the middle east, Rick. Diedre had told me you and she had been together and as betrayed as I felt, I was willing to give up my anger and desire for revenge to reestablish a relationship with you for the sake of the family.”
“Just for the family? You no longer cared for me?”
“I no longer felt obligated to be faithful since you had betrayed me and as much as admitted it when I questioned you.”
“Marcy, I felt guilty for what I had done, but I stopped myself from doing things that would have been as intimate as I have been with you. Diedre had indeed offered herself to me several times in Iraq. One time only, after we survived a roadside ambush in which we’d amazingly survived, she had cornered me in an unoccupied office. Feeling as though we had dodged imminent death and might die any time, I gave in to her advances. I let her blow me. I brought her off with my tongue and fingers afterwards, but then I stopped things because I didn’t love her and didn’t want to think of her or be with her the way I wanted to be with you. I thought of my love for you and never allowed another such incident. Did that one time, ‘Oh god – I’m alive’ moment justify your preplanned six week bold-faced cheat-fest?”
“The only evidence I had, Rick, was the direct testimony of a person who wanted me to believe you had repeatedly had sex with her. You refused to answer my questions acting guilty as hell. What conclusion would you have drawn?”
“I felt so very guilty – even though you had cheated on me during Korea – but didn’t want to get into an ‘I did – you did’ argument that might kill our marriage since you seemed to be willing to let it go. So I thought you’d cheated, Marcy, when you had not and you thought I’d done a lot more than I had. This idiotic case of multiple miscommunication events lead to you no longer feel devoted to me? If you had stopped loving me, why didn’t you just tell me and separate?”
“Rick,… I thought it would hurt the family. And then I decided to do this,… well,.. adventure. Trey had come on to me and it seemed the perfect tit for tat payback, after all you had been with Diedre for a lot more than 6 weeks, or so I’d been lead to believe. As for no longer feeling devoted to you, that’s something we both need to work on. I don’t want to be devoted to anyone else. I want to be Mrs. Rick Weston the rest of my life. This past month reinforced that to myself. Didn’t my phone calls indicate that to you, Rick?”
“Marcy, let’s not reinforce our lack of clear positive communication between each other. This discussion has pointed out that there might be a chance for us, but if so, there is a serious need for counseling for the both of us.”
“So then you’re saying you’re willing to come upstairs and give us another chance, Rick?”
Rick slid the briefcase onto the corner of the table and took out a stack of four large envelopes. The top one was labelled, “Divorce Petition”. Rick put it back into the case. That revealed the second labeled, “PostNup”. He placed it aside to reveal one labeled, “Div+”, that went back into the case which he then closed and put back on the floor, leaving one labeled, “Pnup+”.
“Marcy, our discussion has answered some of my questions and put to rest some of my fears, but it doesn’t just ‘make it all better.’ We still have some trust building to do before I’ll let myself be swept up into my very real and very pressing desire for being one with you again. We’ve allowed ourselves to distrust each other for so long that I’m afraid I’ll fool myself into believing everything is just fine before a true and unshakable foundation is actually reestablished. If we are to survive as a couple, both of us will have to do some work.”
“I’m sure you asked and I’m sure Leslie told you we did have sex. We haven’t done anything for more than a week now and here are my STD test results.” He handed her two pages of paper out of the “Pnup+” envelope.
“Mine are up in the room, if you want to see them, Rick.”
“No thanks, Marcy. I have zero trust about anything related to your adventure, especially the validity of any test results that Dr. Jerkwad or any of your traveling sex show staff could have influenced. Please go to our family doctor and get new tests that she can share with the two of us simultaneously.” He handed her another sheet showing an appointment for the following day.
“Really!?”
“Yes. Her office did my tests. They are authorized to share with you any information you want. Until we go through that together, we won’t be together.”
Marcy looked out the window. Another plane was coming in for a landing. She looked him in the eyes for a minute. “OK. I’ll do it. Anything else?”
He pulled a stapled set of papers out of the “PostNup” envelope. “Here is a postnup agreement stating that both of us will be completely open and honest about our relationships with any other persons for the rest of our lives and that any hidden relationships or dissembling about our interactions with others or having any type of sexual relations with anyone outside the marriage – regardless of their gender – or if either of us plan any emotional or sexual interactions with someone outside of our marriage, we forfeit any claim to any assets of the marriage and grant an uncontested divorce.” He set a copy where her plate had been.
She looked at the top page, but didn’t touch it. “So,… if I have coffee with an associate at my work, we’re done?”
“If you hide it, we’re done. If you don’t hide it, and it’s entirely platonic, it shouldn’t impact us. But if you meet with them and talk about any inadequacies in our relationship or what would be your dream nudist island vacation, or your favorite sex position then we might as well be done, because that’s husband and wife territory. Wouldn’t you feel the same way if I did that?”
“I guess so. I just don’t want to live looking over my shoulder or being afraid of any little misstep that might look like something’s going on even if it’s not.”
“Neither do I Marcy. Both of us need to establish an appropriate level of trust and we both need to ensure that we are focusing on ourselves and each other, not people outside of our marriage. Trust should grow if we each prove ourselves trustworthy. If either of us, after we complete counseling, or during counseling for that matter, think there’s no hope, then we can do the divorce thing and then the postnup would not be triggered.
“Well, Rick, I thought today might bring a confrontation at the airport. It could have brought a fight in the hotel lobby. I’d hoped it would be a hot night reconnecting on the king size bed in our deluxe room upstairs. It certainly could have yielded a process server serving me at the front desk of the hotel. Of all the scenarios I imagined, this was not one of them.” She canted her head a few degrees looked at her husband.
“Well, Marcy, I thought you’d say ‘good-bye’ and leave me with a kiss and a hug before going off to save the downtrodden of South America. I guess life did not turn out the way we each thought it would before today.
“Since entering this hotel, I have learned that I should have trusted you instead of being ‘sure’ you’d been cheating on me. You’ve learned that I had allowed myself to stray for an hour. We both already knew that you had allowed yourself to feel you were owed an affair for a brief time before going and a concentrated cheating event on this trip.
“We both have admitted to not being totally open and honest, but we’ve also professed to wanting to get back what we once had, or at least a new version of that. Does today not being what you wanted it to be mean ‘we’ are not worth the effort it will take to rebuild our trust? Or do you honestly think that hopping into bed would automatically create a lasting bond of trust and devotion between us?”
“No, Rick,” she indulged in a deep sigh, “I meant every single ‘I love you’ I’ve uttered on every phone call and in the letter. I’ve tossed all of the lingerie and dresses I wore on the trip. I really do mean it when I say you’re better in bed and make me feel more secure and loved than Trey or any other man I’ve ever had thoughts about. I was just all keyed up to either weather a vicious fight or plunge head and shoulders back into a renewal of our marriage by fucking your brains out. Snuggling down in a cold bed wearing my new lingerie with a sheaf of legal papers I have to read laying on the pillow instead of your head, really hurts, but I’d rather that than lose you forever.”
Rick reached out and took her hand in both of his. “I’d much rather be doing a lot of things other than this.”
“OK! Separate beds until the tests come back and counseling appointments as quickly as we can set them up, but, Rick,” she placed her other hand on top of the three hands already nestled together, “… when I checked in, they made a point to let me know that the hotel has just installed an extra large Jacuzzi by the pool. There’s a mall just off the airport where you can get a bathing suit. Could we spend a little time being together without paperwork or coat and tie and without being under the pressure of having a bed in the room?… please,…”
“I’d really like that Marcy” He gathered his papers and his briefcase. She picked up her papers and rose from the table. “I should be able to get to the mall and back, and then change in the health club locker room next to the pool in about a half hour. I’ll meet you in the tub.”
She blew him a kiss and headed to her room to change. “The bubbles will be like a cleansing wash for our relationship,” she mused as she rode up the elevator. She looked forward to feeling his body against hers under the swirling water.
Rick felt at peace with the decision to re-build their relationship and looked forward to having the heat and bubbles boil away the rest of his anger. He imagined feeling her body against his in the swirling waters.