The Magnificent Agony

One night after a three-martini dinner when she had noticed Jack ogling their young waitress, Beverly had been prompted to her husband about the gooey looks Ted gave her and the casual touching when his wife Susan was not in the room.

   "Are you attracted to him?" Jack asked when she had finished. In the past he had noticed how openly affectionate he was toward her.

   Beverly hesitated, but the drinks she'd had at dinner made it easy to be honest. "Maybe, in a way. He's certainly attractive," she said, knowing her answer had taken too long to escape the suspicion of the ex-cop.

   "You mean for an older guy," he corrected her.

   She bristled at his attempt to control her. "That's not what I meant at all. Actually, I happen to think he's kind of sexy. And he says he's in love with me."

   Jack was sitting on his side of the bed and turned to face her, but she just stared at him, letting her words sink in. "Maybe he just wants to get you in the sack," he said, irritated now and not sure why she brought it up at all unless it was to get even. He had caught her glare of disapproval when their waitress had provided him with a lingering glance into her cleavage. The view was as pleasant as her smile. 

   "Maybe, again" she said, playing coy. "In fact, I'm sure of it."

   Jack's eyes narrowed. "How can you be so sure?"

   The intimate details were more than she intended to share on the strength of just three martinis. In stead, she said, "First of all, he's a man."

   The grouch on his face deepened. "Is that all you think men have on their mind? How to get you in bed?"

   "Isn't that what you were thinking tonight, looking down that young girl's blouse?"

   "What I was thinking was if I should thank her, or just add a little something extra to the tip. Besides, those tits will get you twenty years in the slammer."

   "Tits is tits," she groused.

    Jack thought for a moment and said, "Do you want to sleep with Ted?" 

   "What if I said yes?" She hesitated before her next words slowly came out on their own. "He certainly would make any woman curios."

   Jack bristled noticeably, just as she had intended. "Mind telling me how you know that?"

   She didn't dare crack the smile that was lurking just below the surface and aimed directly at his wounded ego. "Susan mentioned it," she hedged with the half-truth. "Says he's like a horse. And . . ." She stopped short on purpose.

   "And what?" His voice rose a notch, challenging her.

   Beverly donned one of her familiar Mona Lisa smiles that drove him crazy at times. "And, sometimes it's obvious . . . you can see it."

   Jack's brow arched questioningly, shooting daggers, demanding more.

      She noticed, and said, "There's a . . . well, a bulge . . . sometimes."

   "Good God, Bev, the man's old enough to be your father," he snorted. It was a weak attack, but was the worst he could come up with to say about him on short notice. He was a former world-class athlete and still in good shape for his age, whatever that was.  In fact, Ted was a nice enough guy. But Jesus H. Christ! Parading around like that in front of his wife like that was going too far. "So, apparently you've been staring at his crotch, is that it?"

   "Actually, it's hard not to notice." Her smile lingered, the reason obvious. "The point is, what does his age have to do with it?" Her expression changed to an impish grin meant to aggravate him and was doing a good job of it.

   "Does this happen just for you? Because I've never noticed it before."

   "How would I know? But I'm glad it's not just for you. Does it matter?"

   "Maybe it does," he answered testily. Then said, "So, he's an older guy with a big schlong that turns you on. Is that what we're talking about here?"

   "Which one?"

   "Either one of them . . . both, for God's sake!"

   Beverly stood her ground. "They both do, actually. But in different ways. I think Ted's a very handsome man.  And he knows how to treat a lady."

   Jack muttered something under his breath she couldn't hear and she just looked at him. He waved her off and said, "What about this flirting business, the kissing and touching?" He didn't have the nerve to ask if something more might be involved, but it seemed like only a matter of time from what she had already told him.

   "I don't think he's trying to seduce me, if that's what you mean," she said, defending Ted, but couldn't think of a reason why he should believe her after what she had just confided in him. "I don't think he would hurt Susan like that. As for the other thingy, well . . . that would probably interest any girl with two hormones to rub together." She saw his eyes flick over her. "Of course, I've never had anything that big to compare it to," she added provocatively. "Does that make you jealous?" She looked at him innocently now, but not without a chink of guilt in her armor over some of the thoughts she'd had about Ted.

   "Maybe . . ." he said slowly, but that was a lie. Jealous was putting it mildly, and he wondered if they were both playing around with the truth. "If you ever have sex with him . . . providing you could, from what you've said . . .  would you tell me?"

   "If I could . . .?" she huffed, her voice kicking up half a notch, eyes riveted, as if she hadn't already had the same thought.

   "All right," he conceded, "if you did, do, have, whatever!"

   "Which one?"

   "Dammit, Bev, what do you mean, which one? Any one of them! Before or after!" She was really starting to get to him, and now he sensed that she was toying with him.

   Again, Beverly considered his question a beat too long, knowing that it would make him even more suspicious. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it."

   His brow knitted, accusing her without saying a word.

   She caved. ". . . That much, anyway," she admitted and took a deep breath. "But certainly not before. That would be like 'asking permission.' Maybe after, it all depends."

   "On what, for chrissake?" His voice notched up again. She was definitely baiting him now and he was becoming more than a little pissed.

   "On what you consider having sex is."

   "Oh, great! Now you're beginning to sound like a certain politician we used to have," he scoffed.

   "And you're sounding like a cop, again," she shot back, holding her ground. He was trying to bully her again, and after three martinis it wasn't working.

   All right, all right, I concede," he said, holding up a protective hand to ward her off. "But it's definitely having sex if you sleep with him, right?"

   "Duh . . ." she mocked him, held a hand to her face to stifle a hiccup that tasted like Tangueary, and made a bitter face.

   "And, unlike a certain former president, I think a blow job is  having sex."

   "Also, agreed."

   Jack expected an argument, and when he didn't get one he looked at her questioningly. "So, what's left?"

   "For God's sake, Jack, I don't know how you were a detective so long. I can think of lots of different things, all the way from masturbation, to fondling and groping, to just plain talking dirty."