"Hey guys, just hold on to my beer would you, I've got to go pee. I'm so full I'm bursting."
A gang of us had come down from the campus to O'Malley's Bar, down on Victoria Road. O'Malley's is one of those bars that caters for a wide range of customers, from us university types, the art school arty kids, and the occasional corporate suit kicking out at the end of a long week doing whatever they do up in the city.
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We'd been together for a while. The bond was there – clear and strong. I was his at one time – there was no question. There was nothing I'd deny him – nothing. I told him of my fantasies and many times he used them on the phone or in person to take my lust to different levels.
He sent me instructions in emails and text messages and knew with all the certainty that the sun would come up that I'd obey them.
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It's 4:48 AM by the clock on the nightstand. I can hear you stirring behind me in the bed, your arm reaches out instinctually to find my waist and snuggle in. Knowing how hard I find it to sleep without you, I wonder do you do that even when I'm away, and when you find the bed empty, do you clutch the pillows close and pretend it's me?
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You, my sweet wife Julie, have occasionally shared some of your fantasies with me in moments of post coitus intimacy. It seems to be our time together when we share our most inner secrets and sometimes, hidden, desires.
One which has come to the surface several times over the past few months is a scenario of you watching me make love – not just participate in having sex – but truly making love, to another man while you watch.
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Hi, it's Julia. You may remember me ... Sheri, Julia? Me, the Cougar taken and turned. Ah, I see you nodding. Good. It's been four glorious years for us. I still blink when I look at her. She's just a wonder ... and she's doing very, very well at work too. (Me: winking) Yeah, the jokes are still lame and the sex is still fabulous.
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I sensed her controlling presence as soon as I entered the room. It was like a force field around her, something that I could instinctively feel but from which nothing could be seen. First I tried to ignore it, thinking it came from my overactive imagination. Eventually, it started to overwhelm me. It intoxicated me like too many drinks at a party, making me do things I otherwise would never have dreamed of doing.
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Jennifer McDougall slumped in the hard-back chair on the other side of my large wooden desk. The wind knocked out of her sails, I knew she was beaten.
Tears ran down her face, and I handed her my handkerchief to wipe them away. It was a losing battle though, for each time she dried those blue eyes the tears continued to flow.
"Mr. Roberts, I'm so sorry, I..." she quietly said.
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Sandra shook her head and sighed as she listened to her daughter talking to her boyfriend in the next room.
"You have got to be kidding me, right?"
"C'mon Jen, it'll be fun. Ron and Angela and Wendy and Greg will be there."
"A stupid protest? Please."
"We could end up on T.V."
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"They are incorrigible."
Liz sighed as her sister, Mandy, started again on the same complaining track about Liz's twin sons.
"William and Benedict have no manners and I honestly think they're immoral, I said so to Donald last time we spoke and he agreed."
Donald was Mandy's quiet husband and it was difficult for Liz to picture him getting animated over such an issue.
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I sat at the hotel's bar by myself. I held my glass of Chardonnay to my lips, sort of rolling the large bulbous glass from side to side. I was deep in thought, in sort of a trance really. I was thinking about all of the deadlines I had at work and realized that I had been sitting there not long.
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