Also, given that I wanted Kim to talk about her emotions, I wanted to mix in some making love with the fucking. I sensed that there a certain amount of catharsis in our first meeting. There was a venting of pent-up, unbridled lust. I had remind myself that she still needed wooing. She needed to feel like woman who was desired, liked and, yes, perhaps, even loved. It turn, she would desire, like and love. The desire within human beings to reciprocate is very, very strong.
So, as much as I wanted to have her on a concrete floor, in damp, smelly cellar, I booked a posh hotel with a four poster bed, with lunch and champagne in the room. I brought massage oil and skilled hands, to soothe her in between bouts of soft, gentle love-making and vigorous fucking. I gave her constant reassurance that everything was fine. That what she was doing was fine. That she was in the safe hands of someone she could trust; someone who made her feel good about herself. I want her love as well as her lust.
When I felt the time was right, I asked her, "What would John think if he could see you now?"
I took care to use his name and not say "your husband." It was important to make it personal.
"Actually, he'd probably get off on it," she said.
"Really!" I said in mock surprise.
"Yes, he has a bit of a thing about it. I read that it's not that uncommon. Anyway, during the first half of our marriage, he suggested a few times that I take a lover," she said,
"And did you?"
"No. At least not with him knowing. It always ended in tears."
"What ended in tears," I asked.
"Him suggesting I take a lover."
"His tears?! I asked disingenuously.
"No mine."
"But why?" I asked.
We had gotten to the question I really wanted answered. My intuition told me that there was Rubicon to be crossed. Kim fell silent. Her mind drifted off and her eyes moistened. I took her in my arms and held her. She sobbed quietly.
"Because," she said finally, "because he is probably not the father of our children."
I pulled her onto her side, on the bed, and cuddled her. So there it was. In some way, John's encouragement had confronted her with a betrayal that she thought he would not forgive.
It was now imperative that I got her through this. If she disappeared now into a well of emotion and remorse, I doubted that we be another meeting. So slowly, very slowly, the reassuring cuddle became a massage. The massage became love-making and the love-making became a fuck. And all through this we talked. Or rather I got her to talk it out. Got her to talk it to death. Lenny Bruce taught us that if you repeat something often enough, no matter how offensive, it eventually loses its power shock. The words are separated from the emotion. The same is true of deeds. Deeds can be consigned to the past and the emotions put in a box.
So after about an hour, where we got to is this. The kids are grown. John has and does love them as if they are his own. If he ever suspected that they are not his, he has never said so and has never shown it in his actions. What was done was done nearly twenty years ago. Apart from the odd, lagely unsatisfactory, dalliance, Kim has devoted her life to John and the children. Now it's Kim time. Maybe, just maybe it is also time to give John what he wants. This is where we, or rather Kim got to. And then we fucked and fucked hard for the third final time that afternoon.
Kim and I are meeting again on Wednesday. There will definitely still be champagne and wooing. It's needed now more than ever. But there will also be more fucking than talking.
And, I nearly forgot. I gave Kim a present. It's one of my two favourites book of all time. It is a slim volume and I hope she read's it before we meet again. It's called Venus In Furs.
No comments:
Post a Comment