Me: 1:16 a.m.: Sorry I didn’t see u txt bak. Want me to call?
She: 1:17 a.m.: No. Going to sleep. Call u tomorrow.
It was clear to me now. What ever had happened was none of my business other than to send her message with clear and torturous implications. I could see it all, from the big hug to his eventual full conquest of my willing and flirting wife. I know her. She’s clever, yet perfectly pliable. More likely, she had carefully positioned her arrangement precisely knowing she would fall pray to his conquest, accept his physical offerings and played it out for herself, and for him, and now for me as if I was standing right there able to half watch it all happen. Finally, it is the possible and undoubtable likelihood he is still there that weights my mind. It is perfectly clear to me now.
For the next few hours I try to sleep and I eventually do sleep about four hours later after reading and rereading the text messages over and over again still deeply convinced and yet exhausted and intoxicated with conflict, wonder and doubt.
The next day, she does not call. She sends a few text messages to keep me up on what is happening during the day. But that’s all. We always talk when I’m driving home.
I get home at about 10:30 p.m. that night. I come in I get a nice little kiss and hug. I start chatting about my trip and begin to talk about her “fun” evening, without noting the lateness of it all or that he was there for almost four hours. She interrupts me and says she’s really exhausted and is going to bed. After several days she hasn’t mention his visit nor what happened in the four hours they spent together. But I am still rapt around it.
A few weeks go by. Everything seems normal. Until one night she asks if I have talked to him. She openly asks where he is and when he is coming for a visit again. She repeats her ask three days in a row eagerly wanting him to come visit next weekend. She knows I have another trip out of town. She has his number. She could call him herself. She could keep it private. So I conclude she must want me to participate again in making her arrangement. So I did. I call him for her. We talk and catch up on various things. I drop in a comment about my schedule. I casually mention in the conversation she would like company again during my absents. He doesn’t address it directly but implies he might be up for some fun again. I can practically hear him smile over the phone.
I tell her later I did make the call. She asks “Will he come and visit?” I tell her about the conversation. I tell her he did not confirm precisely but he did say he might be up for some fun again. I tell her I’m sure they’ll have fun if she calls him and makes her arrangement again. It’s 9:30 p.m. She is in her night clothes. She smiles approvingly, comes over and softly presses herself against me. She asks “Do you think he’ll come for me?” I practically melt. She briefly allows me to get my hands under the sides of her night shirt and slide my hands along her soft skin from her waist, to her ribs, to the swells of the sides of her lovely large breasts. As I try to go farther she slowly pulls away. She thanks me for calling him and offers me a flirting yet controlled little smile and heads to bed saying she’s too tired.