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“Drink that up. I want to take advantage of you before we leave.” He smacks my ass, and I walk down the hallway to our bedroom.
I know what that sounds like. A happily in love couple. You wouldn’t be wrong, we do love each other, but everything else is just talk. We don’t have sex as often as that conversation insinuates. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he made love to me. He spends his nights jerking off to gay porn, and I have become well acquainted with my vibrator. I grab it on the way to the bathroom setting it on the basin looking at myself in the mirror.
I untie my long dark hair and run my hands through it, massaging my scalp.
When Nate and I do fuck, it’s hard and dirty, and I like it like that. None of that sweet, sensual shit.
A year ago, after the fight of all fights which could have ended our marriage, my husband finally admitted that he’s bisexual. I threw a fit at first, kicking him out of our home for a while. I was confused. I felt lied to and betrayed. But with time and therapy, a whole lot of that, I accepted it. I even figured it could be fun; maybe we’d have aménage à troisone day; two sexy as fuck men pounding into me isn’t such a bad thing.
But that didn’t happen, and our fucking became less. Now, I have to get my orgasms from a dildo and some filthy porn, which I actually quite enjoy these days.
I also know he spends hislate nights at workwith Parker. I should have known those two were a thing years ago, the way he used to hang around like a leech. Women know these things. Sometimes we ignore it, turn our backs to it in the hopes that it too shall pass. I hate knowing. I hate that my husband chooses to lose himself in another man’s ass instead of me.
Nobody knows any of it, not even Anna. It’s a Nate and me thing. I wonder why I stay, he does too, but the truth is we’re the best of friends. We enjoy the same things. Being with Nate is uncomplicated. He’s been tryingtofixthings between us, though, in his own strange way, so there is that, but I feel detached, unfeeling, somewhat apathetic. But, a sinner has no right to judge another sinner, right? Sin is sin, I think as I step into the warm water. The honeysuckle scent is welcoming. No one sin is greater than another. The water cascades over my body, and I slip into oblivion, not thinking of anything.
I feel relaxed me as I lie in bed wrapped in my robe. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off.
Crave is packed like it usually is. I don’t understand why Anna chose this place instead of any of the other more sophisticated clubs. I guess she really wants to let her hair down tonight.
“You look delicious,” Nate whispers in my ear as I lean against him on the door of the Uber. We decided to meet Anna and Denton here. He kisses my earlobe, his hands wrapping around my waist. I admit I made an effort; the emerald green dress I’m wearing hugs my curves and shows a bit too much skin. It sits just below my ass. The tight leather jacket is a perfect addition, along with my Louboutin sky-high pumps. My hair is loose and hangs down my back. I even have slutty red lipstick on.
“You, Nate Julius, are far too charming for your own good,” I say, leaning into him. “Where are they? I’m freezing my ass off.”
He wraps his hands around my thighs from behind, kissing my neck. “Better?”
I can tell he’s had too much to drink. He’s handsy, and while I enjoy the attention, thoughts of all the times he rejects my advances come to the forefront of my mind.
“Nate, behave. The driver is probably watching,” I say, stepping away from him. He pouts, and I kiss his lips to soften the blow.
“Oh my God.” Anna shrieks. “You look like a fucking Goddess.” She throws her arms around me, and I squeeze her back. She lets go. “Spin for me,” she says, and my eyes instinctively meet Denton’s. He looks away. It’s been six years, I remind myself. He probably doesn’t even remember.
I do as my best friend says, then shake my head. “That coming from sex on legs.”
She looks incredible in her red cocktail dress and heeled sandals.
“Hi,” Denton greets me, leaning in to place a kiss on my cheek. The contact, foreign as it is right now, sends a jolt of electricity through me. I must have imagined that.
“Hey, good to see you,” I manage, pulling away.
Nate comes over and hugs Anna. “You look beautiful, cousin. Denton,” he nods Denton’s way.
“Can we get inside? I am a bit underdressed for this weather,” I laugh.
Nate takes my hand as we walk toward the entrance. No waiting in line for us, Anna made reservations, and thankfully, we’ll be in the VIP section. If there is one thing I do like about Crave, it’s the vibe, and when I don’t have to be crushed between a sea of sweaty bodies in the main area, it’s even better. The music is good, the ambiance electric.
“Tequila shots,” Anna demands when we get to our table. There’s a private bar, so the guys don’t have to walk down to the bar on the main dance floor.
“Coming up,” Denton offers.
“I needed this,” Anna tells me when the men are gone.
“So did I, and besides, I haven’t seen you in a month, maybe more.”
“How’ve you been? Where have you been?” She asks.
“I had so many new songs to write for these artists, I’ve been snowed under.”
“You still refuse to sing your own damn songs,” She frowns.
