Copyright 2003 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or if you are underage where you reside, begone.

This story was suggested, in a very roundabout way, by the song of the same title, by Marshall Crenshaw.

WHAT DO YOU DREAM OF?
By Frank Downey

The minute I saw Kiersten, I knew she was going to change my life.

First of all, she was gorgeous. 5'10", long blonde hair, perfectly proportioned body. She had long willowy legs, a lovely firm ass, and beautiful tits. I was immediately smitten.

This wasn't all that unusual. I can become immediately smitten at the drop of a hat. I'm a confirmed girl-watcher, and I fall in lust five times a day. No big deal, usually. However, Kiersten wasn't a pretty face seen walking down the street. She was a new co-worker.

I was an executive for a large computer company. Kiersten was a junior fast-track type. Don't let that make you think this was a May-September thing, because it wasn't. There was a difference in our ages, but not a huge one. Despite my executive status, I was only 32. Kiersten, I learned later, was 25. 

But she was a co-worker. Which means I got to know her. And, as it happened, the attraction didn't go away-it deepened. Kiersten wasn't just a pretty face. She was smart, witty, interesting, and charming. She made me laugh-it had been so long since I'd laughed like that. She also was willing to discuss anything under the sun, and she held her own. We ended up eating lunch together, even going out for a drink after work a few times.

Smitten? I'd passed that point long ago. To paraphrase Paul McCartney: falling, yes I was falling. She'd been working for us for three months when I passed the point of no return. I was absolutely falling in love with this girl. I think the sentiment was shared.

There was only one problem. I was married.


--Two-


I'd met Cameron-Cammie to all and sundry-one of my first days at college. I walked into her in the bookstore. I mean, really walked into her. Knocked her books all over the place. What a klutz, eh? I stammered out an apology-she just laughed.

I quickly found out she was in a couple of my classes that first semester-us both being business majors. She saw me in the first class, plopped down next to me, and giggled, "Am I safe?" 

She ended up finding me in the dining hall for lunch that day, giggling, "Should I put a cover over my food in case it goes flying?" She ate with me, sat next to me in the classes we shared, and we quickly became fast friends.

And that's all we were-friends. She had a number of boyfriends, and I had my share of girlfriends. But she was probably my best friend. I had no surer confidant. We could talk to one another about anything. She had a biting sarcastic wit that appealed to me, and she told me she enjoyed my deadpan take on life. If we didn't have dates, it wasn't unusual for us to be up all night on a Friday, drinking beers and talking. I even introduced her to my beloved St. Louis Cardinals. By the fall of junior year, she was as an enthusiastic baseball fan as I was.

Everything changed later on that year, junior year, in March.

It was spring break. Both of us had nowhere to go, so we stayed on campus. Considering the campus wasn't what you'd call crowded, we spent most of the week with each other. It started out normally-hanging out, drinking beers, sending out for Chinese, watching spring training baseball games, talking about everything under the sun.

Halfway through that week, we were sitting on my couch, and, suddenly, she said, "Damn, I'm horny."

"I know what you mean," I agreed. Both of us had been dumped right before Christmas break, so it had been a good three months for each of us.

"Hey, Glenn. Have you ever though about, you know, you and me..........." she trailed off.

"You and me what?" I asked.

"You know," she said, and paused, taking a gulp of her beer. "In bed."

"Have I thought of it? Well, since you asked, I'll admit it. Of course. Cammie, you're sexy as hell," I told her. And she was. The best way to describe Cammie was voluptuous. She wasn't fat, but she was soft and round and curvy. And her gorgeous round ass and D-cup breasts could stop a truck. Then there was her face. Beautiful deep brown eyes, a button nose, and full soft lips made for kissing. She also had gorgeous very long straight brown hair. 

"Well, if you think I'm sexy, why haven't you ever made a move on me?" she asked.

"Because you're my best friend, and I didn't want to spoil that."

She nodded her agreement, but then made a decision. Before I knew it, she was next to me, leaning into me, pressing those luscious soft lips into mine, and snaking her tongue into my mouth. Before I knew what hit me, we had moved into the bedroom, we were completely naked, and I was pumping into her.

It was, by far, the best sex I'd ever had. Cammie was a complete animal in bed, did things with her cunt muscles that I didn't think were possible, and came louder and longer than any girl I'd ever seen. And numerous times, too. I never thought I'd see a girl cum like that. Until, after we woke up the next morning, and she asked me if I'd eat her pussy. I'd never done that, but was willing, and asked her to tell me what to do. I must've been able to follow her requests OK, because that was cumming. After about three or four or a million absolutely screaming cums, she gave me the blowjob of my life. Then we fucked our way right through the bedroom wall again.

That was it. We were hooked. We were still the best of friends-the only difference is, after the chat or the takeout Chinese or the Cardinals game, we went into one of our bedrooms and fucked like bunnies. When junior year ended, we decided to get an apartment near campus and stay there all summer. We got jobs, and when senior year started, we were living together.

Three months before we were to graduate, we were careless-and Cammie got pregnant. I did the honorable thing and proposed. Hell, it was easy-we were in love, right? I mean, she was my best friend and we had earth-shattering sex-what else do you need? That was love to me. We got married right then. After we graduated, I found a job in St. Louis, we moved there, and Cammie had Jessica in November. She stayed home with Jessie at first. Three years later, we had an accident. The birth control failed, or so Cammie claimed-I'm now not sure-and, when Jessie was three and a half, our second daughter, Jaimie, came along.

--Three-

It was just about then that things started to go straight to hell.

The disappearance of our sex life was gradual, but noticeable. We made love fairly steadily for the first year of Jaimie's life, but it was less than before, even after Jessie. 
A year and a half after Jaimie was born, Cassie decided to go back to work. I was all for the decision-Cammie was smart and talented and wanted a career. She went to work as an investment banker.

It wasn't long before we wouldn't see her before seven or eight o'clock at night. I understood it was a demanding career, but I had a demanding career but still managed to walk out of the building at five on almost all nights. Cammie, even with her hours, was a good mother to Jessie and Jaimie. I'd pick them up from day care, and cook the meal, and when Cammie came home she doted on them. We did things as a family every weekend.

What paid the price in Cammie's attentions was me. Our sex life dwindled down to nothing. Our conversations-which were always as good as the sex-dwindled down as well. Our kids were getting older. I was 33 years old, married for eleven years, with a ten-year-old and a seven-year-old. And my marriage was a shambles. Cammie had deigned to make love to me on our eleventh anniversary-six months later and that had been the last time.

To outsiders, we were the perfect family. We were financially very healthy and had been able to buy a lovely house in the St. Louis suburbs. We had great, personable, well-behaved kids. Cammie and I were still young and good-looking. We had it all.

If that was the case, I had begun asking myself, why do I feel 53 years old instead of 33?

Then Kiersten walked into my life. And suddenly I didn't feel old anymore.

--Four-

It started, as I said, slowly. Just co-workers. Then I kissed her. And it was all over. I felt like I was drowning in her, just from a kiss.

Had I ever felt that way about Cammie?

We hadn't consummated the relationship, but there was an opportunity. An overnight business trip, to Chicago, that we both were required to take. We got separate rooms at the hotel, of course, but one of them wasn't going to be used.

We got into Chicago on a Thursday morning, went through all the boring meetings we had to attend, then went back to the hotel restaurant for dinner.

Then we went into my room. 

Finally. It was going to happen. My only worry was whether or not I'd go off too soon, considering it had been six months. I had Kiersten in my arms, kissing her deeply, sitting on the bed. I reached down and unbuttoned her blouse, and cupped her bra-covered breast in my hand. I reached behind her and unclasped the bra. After slipping her bra and blouse off, I moved my head down and started suckling her nipples.

Then, I stopped.

I don't know what it was. I just couldn't go through with it. And that's what I told her. "Kiersten, I can't do this."

"Glenn, why not?"

"Because I'm basically an honest person. And this is so dishonest."

"Glenn, I love you. You love me. You're trapped in an unfulfilling marriage with an uncaring wife. Let me love you like you deserve!"

"No. Not like this. This is out of order."

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

I told her. She seemed satisfied with my answer. She pulled her bra and blouse back on, and kissed me. "You do what you have to. I'll be waiting." Then she went back to her own room.

--Five-

We returned to St. Louis the next morning. I went back to the office, took care of some things, then left at my customary five o'clock. As I pulled into the driveway, I was shocked to see Cammie's car there. She was never home before eight on a Friday!

"Hi, honey," she called as I walked into the kitchen. She was cooking?

"Where are the kids?"

"At my mothers for the weekend," she told me. I went upstairs and washed up and came down to find dinner was all ready. It was delicious. Cammie was a damn good cook when she chose to do so.

After dinner, I was settled in my easy chair, watching TV. She walked in, handed me a beer, then sat down across from me on the couch.

OK, something was going on. I thanked her for the beer but didn't say anything else. I only had to wait until the show I was watching had ended.

"Glenn, I need to ask you something," she said, twirling her hair as she always did when she was nervous, and looking down. "Are you having an affair?"

SHIT!!! How did she know? I tried to cover it, but was unsuccessful. As I said, I am basically honest. I told her the sort-of truth. "It depends on what your definition of affair is."

"Oh, Glenn, don't go all Bill Clinton on me!"

"OK. Am I seeing someone else? Yes. Have we consummated the relationship? No. We were supposed to do so last night in Chicago. I couldn't go through with it."

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because it was too dishonest and sleazy. I want to do this on the up-and-up." I took a deep breath. "Cammie, I think we should consider separating."

"I see," she said. She didn't look shocked-but she looked upset. That surprised me.

"Cammie, you must have seen this coming." She nodded, looking miserable. "Why continue to put ourselves through this torture? We're making each other miserable. Why not make a clean break of it?"

She finally looked at me. "Because I kept hoping. Right up until this moment, I kept hoping." She took a breath. "We have two different problems, you know. Yours is that you don't love me. Mine is that I love you too much."

"LOVE ME TOO MUCH?" I exploded. "You've got to be kidding! You love me so much you're never here. Even when you are here, you're not here. We haven't made love in six months, and it was sporadic as all hell before that. If you love me too much, you've got a funny way of showing it!"

She looked up at me, lower lip trembling. She visibly sucked back the tears that were threatening to form. I was shocked. Suddenly, in a complete change of subject, she asked, "What's her name?"

"Kiersten," I told her.

"Is she pretty?" I shrugged noncommittally. "How does she make you feel?" I just looked at her. "Giddy, lightheaded, all out of breath? Like a sixteen-year-old?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"You never felt that way about me." It wasn't a question, but I nodded.

"We started out as friends, remember," I told her. "Our feelings for each other grew gradually. It wasn't that sudden thing."

"For you it wasn't," she said. I looked at her, shocked. "It was for me. The minute you ran me over in the bookstore that day, I was in love. And I waited around for over two years for you to notice. When you didn't, I took matters into my own hands."

"I never knew," I wheezed.

"I know you didn't," she smiled. "But I thought you fell in love with me, finally." She sighed bitterly. "Then I had to go ruin everything by getting pregnant. Then I doubled the mistake by getting pregnant again. And that was a birth control failure, I swear. I know you've doubted that."

"I trapped you. I know it. And I've spent the past eleven years, and especially the past seven, trying to deal with it. I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't. But it happened anyway."

"Cam," I told her, "our problems aren't because of Jessie and Jaimie. I love those two. We both do. Our problems are because of your job, your lack of interest in sex, and your complete lack of interest in me in general."

"My job-Glenn, I have to work late, if I don't want to get bumped aside."

"No you don't. I don't."

"You're not a woman."

"That has nothing to do with it," I told her. "First of all, you've been their top performer three out of the past four years. You should be dictating to them, not the other way around. Second of all, you forget-I know a guy that works with you, and a guy that used to. Chuck works more hours than you do. And Eric used to. They're not women. It's not a gender thing. It's the company you work for. They use people. I've been telling you that for five years. That's another problem-you don't ever listen to me. Chuck wants out, you know. Eric got out, he's making just as good money at his new firm, and he gets home at a reasonable hour every night." I looked right at her. "I think you want to work late. You get home tired. You have energy for the kids, but that's it. You don't have energy for me. I think you prefer it that way."

"Maybe," she admitted in a small voice.

"And you love me?" I snorted. 

"I do," she maintained.

"Then why haven't we had sex in six months?"

"Guilt," she said softly.

"Excuse me?"

"Guilt." She looked down, wringing her hands. "Every time we tried, all I could think was 'this is how I trapped him. This is how I trapped him.' After Jessie I was able to will it away, but after Jaimie, I couldn't. I stopped enjoying sex. All I could think was, will the birth control fail again? Will I get pregnant again? Will I give him another reason to be stuck here with me? I couldn't deal with it."

"I've never tried to make you feel guilty," I said.

"Not overtly. But you can't hide it. There's something you've never realized-I know you as well as you know yourself. You can't hide things from me. Why do you think I suspected you were having an affair? It shows in your face." She shuddered out a breath. "I can't really tell if Jessie did it, but I know Jaimie did it. You don't resent her, to your credit-but you've been resenting me since the minute I told you I was pregnant. You can't hide it." Another shuddering breath. "And I feel guilty because, although it was an accident, I was happy. I wanted another baby. I was thrilled when I got pregnant with Jaimie. And you weren't. And I felt, I don't know, guilty about being happy about it." 

I felt like I had been slapped in the face.

"I have tried, the best I know, to put this aside. To try to make this marriage work. I can't. I'm consumed by guilt and sadness." The tears she had been holding back started rolling down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do anymore. I love you, but I can't show it, I can barely say it, and I can't make you love me. And I can't keep you trapped anymore." She sniffled, and drew herself up into a sitting position. 

"I won't contest it. I'd like to split everything fifty-fifty. I think that's fair, since our salaries are just about equal. And I'd be inclined to try to work out something approaching joint custody for Jaimie and Jessie. They need their Daddy. They shouldn't have to suffer because I fucked up." 

She stood up, looked at me in despair, and climbed the stairs to our bedroom.

Everything I wanted. She had just given me everything I wanted, on a silver platter. So why did I feel like crawling under a rock and dying?

Damn. All these thing she never said. All these things I never knew. We used to be able to talk to each other about everything. Now we couldn't even talk to each other about our own marriage. 

I thought about what I almost did last night-but, more importantly, I thought about why. Full of my own righteous indignation about how horrible my wife was. Full of the conviction that all the problems in our marriage were her fault. Full of........full of shit.

I felt like a snake. The image of Cammie sitting across from me, giving me my freedom, a tear running down her cheek, was burned into my brain. A fucking snake.

I sat in that recliner, all this whirling around in my head, for a very long time. I didn't know what to do. I'd thought she'd hurt me, and I concentrated on how badly I was hurt. It never occurred to me how much I had hurt her. And I didn't know if it was repairable.

When I finally dozed off to sleep, the sky was already lightening.


--Six-

I was woken up the next morning by a coffee cup clinking on the coffee table. I opened my eyes and saw Cammie sitting on the couch across from me.

"Good morning," she said softly. "I thought you'd gone to sleep in the guest room."

"I never made it out of the chair," I told her. "And the quantity of actual sleeping leaves a lot to be desired."

"Glad I'm not the only one," she said wryly.

I reached over to the coffee cup she had set in front of me. "Thanks."

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm not awake enough to be hungry."

She looked at me. "Look, this is not the time for this, but it's done and I can't change it. You remember that Joe and Clayton and their wives are coming for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, yeah, that's right." Joe was Cammie's boss. Clayton was Joe's boss. "That's OK," I told her. "We'll be OK. Is there anything I can do?"

"Would you mind mowing the lawn?"

"Not at all. I'm going to drink this coffee, then go run some water over my face, then I'll go cut the lawn."

"Fine. Thank you." She started heading towards the kitchen, when she stopped. She turned towards me, looking down, wringing her hands together. "I told you last night that I wouldn't contest anything. I meant that, and I still mean it. But I need to say this. I need to say this once and I'll never say it again." She looked up at me. "I don't want you to leave. I love you. I wish we could work this out." Then she turned and headed for the kitchen.

I thought about it as I finished my coffee. I thought about it as I tooled the riding mower around the yard. I thought about it in the shower. I thought about it as I made myself a sandwich.

I didn't know what to think anymore. 

I walked out to the living room, a coke and a diet coke in my hand. I settled on the couch and found the ball game. Cammie came into the room, dusting perfectly clean surfaces as she went.

"What are you doing?" I asked pleasantly.

"Just cleaning up. Don't want my boss to walk into a pigsty," she said with a little grin.

"It looks fine," I told her. I pointed to the TV. "Cardinals are playing the Cubs." I pointed towards the diet coke. She smiled at me gratefully and sat down next to me on the couch.

We watch an inning or so in silence. "God, when was the last time we watched a ball game together?" she asked.

"I don't remember." I grinned at her. "You probably don't even know any of the players."

"Sure I do." Her voice dropped. "I watch all the time. When you're down here, I watch upstairs."

"Huh? WHY?"

Her voice dropped again, to a sad little whisper. "You just never seemed to want me around."

"And I thought you didn't want to be around." Damn. How the hell did this happen?

"Glenn? Did you ever love me?"

I thought about that one. She deserved an honest answer. "If you had asked me that eleven years ago, on our wedding day, I would've said yes, absolutely. If you had asked me that two days ago, I would've said no way. But you're asking me today. And I find that the only answer I can give you is that I have no fucking idea what love is-and I'm not sure I ever did."

She thought about that one, then changed the subject. "You won't move out without talking to the kids, will you?"

"Of course not. We'll talk to them together." Yeah. And what do I tell them? Your father's a selfish bastard? 

Just then she started weeping. "Damn it, damn it all to hell. I told myself I was not going to fucking cry!" I just looked at her. She wheezed through her sobs. "I do not want you staying here out of pity!" But she couldn't hold the tears back anymore. They flowed from her like a waterfall. "Oh, God, I've fucked everything up so badly, I can't stand it."

"Two days ago I would've agreed with that, too," I said. "I was just sitting here trying to figure out how to tell my kids that their father is moving out because he's a selfish bastard."

"And I get to tell them that their mother's an idiot." She sniffled, and tried to compose herself. "There's a way out of that."

"I know." Don't leave. Stay. Try to work it out. Could I?

"I will say this," she told me. "One thing you said last night, was absolutely right. Completely dead-on. That's one area where I have been letting you-and the kids-down, and I'm going to fix it."

"What are you talking about."

"You'll find out tonight," she smiled enigmatically. "And so will a few other people."


---Seven---

I had an idea what she was talking about, but I had to wait until Joe and Clayton showed up to find out for sure.

And, before that, I got the shock of my life.

Cammie usually dresses-for work, functions, even going out-in suits. What I disparagingly call "man drag". That was an issue I'd given up on long ago. I know-whatever she's comfortable in. It's just so unfeminine. 

Well, after we had finished preparing the meal-and had done so together without killing one another or breaking down in a crying jag-she went up to change. I let the folks in, and then down the stairs she came.

I was gobsmacked. She had poured herself into this clingy deep purple dress, that showed off every single one of her curves. I didn't even know she owned anything like that. Like I said, Cammie's voluptuous. Boy is she ever. Especially in that dress. And, though she's never going to be rail-thin, she didn't weigh a pound more than she did before Jessie and Jaimie. My eyes bugged right out of my head.

After we got the folks seated, we both went into the kitchen and started grabbing food. I leaned into her and said, "If you're trying to use your feminine wiles on me, it's working." I got a delighted giggle for my trouble. "I don't think I've ever even seen that dress."

"Sure you have," she said, "at our last dance at college. That's the last time I wore it."

I was stunned. "And it still fits?"

"Yup," she grinned. "Well, it's a little tighter in the boob area."

"A little tighter in the boob area never hurt anyone." I got another giggle.

We went out with the folks, and ate. We pulled it off. We did a fine job playing the happy married couple. Hell, for her, at least-I now knew-it wasn't acting. Was it for me? Good question.

After dinner, over wine, she dropped the bomb. "Joe, Clayton? I have something to tell you. You'll get word officially on Monday, but I'm giving you a heads-up. I'm resigning."

"WHAT?" Joe burst out. Poor Clayton almost spilled wine all over himself! "You can't!" Joe said.

"He's right, Cammie," Clayton agreed. "You're our number one performer. We can't lose you."

"Do you have a better offer?"

"No," Cammie admitted. "I have nothing yet. I'm sure I'll find something."

"What do you want?" Joe asked. "A raise. Bigger bonus. Another administrative assistant? What? Anything, Cammie, anything at all to get you to stay."

"Anything?" Cammie asked.

"Anything," Joe reiterated. Clayton nodded agreement.

"What I want, and what I will get if you want me to stay, is to walk out the door of that office at 4:30 on the dot, every day. I don't care if there's a customer holding for me. I don't care if there's a crisis on the market. I don't care if the fucking building is on fire! At 4:30, I stop, and leave."

"You know customers call after that sometimes," Joe pointed out.

"That's why we have a night customer service team," Cammie reminded them.

"Your customers want to talk to you."

"Then they can call during regular working hours, like normal people. If they don't like that, fuck 'em." I couldn't believe it! You go, Cammie! "My husband has a far more critical position in his company than I do in mine-we do have that night CS team-and he's home at five almost every day."

"This is absolutely non-negotiable. You want me to stay? Those are the terms. I'm fully prepared to go elsewhere to get a normal working schedule, and I'm even prepared to take less money if necessary."

"If that's what it takes to keep you, then that's what it takes," Clayton agreed.

After they had left, I walked up to Cammie and said, "I'm proud of you."

"I'm proud of myself." She sighed. "I understand what you said-that I might have been subconsciously keeping myself away from here-but, consciously? I've wanted to do that for a long time. I was just scared to."

We cleaned up and talked for a bit. Then we went to bed. I went to the guest room. I know Cammie was disappointed, but I just didn't feel right going to our bed. I didn't sleep very well, though.

--Eight-

When I got up on Sunday, Cammie was already up, puttering in the kitchen. "Good morning. I'm making pancakes if you'd like some." I happily agreed. 

We ate for a while, then she said, "The kids will be home around two."

"OK."

"Are we going to tell them anything?"

"Let's hold off for right now," I said. She seemed to like that answer.

"You're wrong, you know."

"About what?"

"About not knowing what love is. You do know."

"What makes you say that?"

"Jessie and Jaimie. You love them with all your heart."

"That's a different kind of love, though," I pointed out. 

"True."

We didn't talk about it for the rest of the day. We ate, hung out some. I read the paper. We watched the Cardinals again. The kids came home, we hung out with them, Jessie beat my ass at some game on the Playstation. I made supper. It was very pleasant, and very normal. 

When it was time to go to bed, Cammie said, "Are you going to sleep in the guest room again?"

"I'd better not. If the kids see me coming out of there......"

We went into our own bed. It was awkward at first-and then it wasn't awkward. We didn't make love, but we fell asleep with me on my back and Cammie cuddled up next to me, on her side, her top leg draped over mine and her arm over my chest. We used to fall asleep that way all the time but hadn't done it in years. I admit it-it felt nice.

--Nine-

I got up the next morning, cooked breakfast, and Cammie and I got the kids off to school. Cammie was pleasant, but distant. I knew why-because she knew I'd be seeing Kiersten in the office.

I didn't have long to wait. She came into my office very quickly. Closing the door behind her, she said, "Did you tell her?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"She said she wouldn't contest it."

Kiersten's eyes lit up. Damn, how was I going to do this? "That's great! It's what you were hoping for!"

"That's what I thought," I said. She looked at me. "Kiersten, I can't see you anymore."

"WHAT? I mean.......I thought........"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I learned a lot of things about my wife this weekend that I hadn't realized."

"What, did she give you some sob story to get you back in bed with her?"

"Actually, no. I haven't gotten back in bed with her." Well, for sleeping, but I know that's not what Kiersten meant. "We haven't resolved anything. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm confused." I took a breath. "And I've been enough of a bastard-to her, especially, but to you, too. If we continue heading where we both know we were heading, it won't make things any better."

"Well, you're right about one thing," Kiersten huffed, "you are a bastard!" With that, she burst out of my office.

I didn't feel good about it. I didn't feel good about a lot of things. But it had to be done.

When I got home, Cammie was still friendly but distant. I realized something-having her already there when I got home made a huge difference. Having us cook dinner together was such a change. And Jessie and Jaimie were plainly thrilled with her being there so early.

After dinner, Jessie and Jaimie went up to do their homework-it was mid-September, school had recently started. I settled on my easy chair, and Cammie took the couch across from me. Expectantly. 

"I broke things off with Kiersten today."

That she hadn't expected. "You did?" She looked at me. "Does that mean you're staying?"

"I don't know."

"I'm shocked." Her voice got a little bitter, though she tried to hide it. "I thought for sure you'd leave her dangling while you decided what to do with me."

"Damn, am I that much of a bastard?"

"Shit, Glenn I didn't mean......"

"Yes, you did. And you were right." I looked at her. "Listen to me, Cammie. I have spent months-no, years-blaming you, one hundred percent, for what's happened in our marriage. You're an uncaring cold shrew who doesn't love me yadda yadda yadda. This weekend has been an eye-opener. Maybe if I had seen what a bastard I was being before this, things wouldn't have gotten so bad."

"Well, that goes for both of us," she said. "I thought you were driving me away, so I didn't see quite as clearly that I was running away."

"It was wonderful having you here when I came home today, you know."

"It was?" she squeaked.

"Yeah." 

"How did Kiersten take it?" she asked.

"Not well. She's pissed." I looked at her. "Why aren't you madder at me?"

"That would be counterproductive," she sighed. 

"Not necessarily."

She looked at me. "Well, I was pissed. But it's kind of gone out of me, for a number of reasons. First, that you were honorable not to fuck her. I thought you were already having a full-blown affair, and I kind of had the wind knocked out of my sails when you told me you stopped it before it got to that point. Second, that you're still here. Third, you're berating yourself enough. I think just telling you certain things is better than getting mad. And, fourth, you have all the power but you're not using it."

"What do you mean?"

"When I threatened to quit my job, I had all the power and I forced their hand into accepting my terms. You've threatened to leave this marriage, and you know I don't want you to, but you haven't forced anything."

"Well, I did," I told her. "I don't know if you would've changed your work schedule without this hanging over your head."

"That's minor. And since it's still hanging over my head, you could still do it."

I looked at her. "Damn. This is hell for you. I mean it hanging over your head."

"What choice do I have?" she asked miserably.

"If I were you I might've kicked me out by now."

"Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face," she said with a little, very welcome laugh. I chuckled back. "I have a suggestion, which you may dismiss out of hand." I looked at her. "Counseling."

"Marriage counseling?" She nodded. "That's an idea."

"It is?"

"Only as a last resort."

"Aren't we up to our last resort yet?" she asked.

"No." She seemed to like that answer.

"Glenn?" she asked me softly. "What do you dream of?"

"I don't," I snorted. "I haven't for a long time. Well, recently, I dreamed of Kiersten. And now I realize that's what she was-just something to dream about. Because I haven't dreamed of anything in a while." I looked at her. "What do you dream of?"

"Lots of things." She smiled. "Maybe someday I'll even tell you about some of them."

"Nice of you," I laughed.

"Glenn, you need to dream. Even if it's just little ones. Nothing big. But you need to dream. You're 33 years old."

"And I feel sixty."

"I know, and that's half the problem, and that's the half of the problem that isn't my fault," she said sternly. Then she softened again. "I can't be responsible for your dreams. They need to be your own, but you need to find them." Her voice got very soft then. "Of course, it would help if I were in one or two."

I thought about that for a minute, and said, "How many of your dreams did I destroy this week?"

"Not a one," she smiled. "You came close, but they're all still intact."


--Ten-


I thought about what she had said for the rest of that week. The week went OK. We didn't talk much about what was going on, but we coexisted normally. Better than normally, if I'm being honest. We still hadn't made love, but we slept together, cuddling, every night. 

Friday, I got into work, and decided I just didn't want to be there. After two hours, I asked the boss if I could take a vacation day. I had nothing pressing on my plate, so he agreed.

I went home. I was sitting in the easy chair at about eleven-thirty. I thought about calling Cammie and seeing if she wanted to meet for lunch. Then, suddenly, the door opened-and there she was.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, but not unpleasantly.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing," I laughed. "I got into work and decided I just didn't want to be there, so I took a vacation day."

"I called in sick," she laughed.

"You should've told me."

"Well, I called in sick to go shopping, and I know how much you love shopping." She held up her bags, and I chuckled. "I'm going to go put these upstairs."

I watched her go, and settled back in the easy chair-and had a little daydream. Just a little one, nothing major. But I liked it. And we could do it, too.

"Cammie? You coming back down?"

"Yeah," she yelled down to me, then she quickly came down the steps. 

"You're dressed comfortably," I said to her. "Good."

"Why?"

"Come on," and I started heading out of the house.

"What? Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," I grinned. She grinned back, and followed me out the door. We headed for my car. 

We drove to a little gourmet shop near the house. I made Cammie stay in the car, went in, and came out with a bag. She looked at me questioningly, and I just smiled at her. We headed into St. Louis.

"You'd better not be bringing me back into work!" she laughed.

"Not a chance."

We got off the highway, then headed down Lindell Blvd. Then we turned into Forest Park, the large public park in the middle of St. Louis.

"Forest Park! I haven't been here in ages," Cammie exclaimed.

I found a parking space, and then went and got the door for her. I grabbed the bag I had gotten at the gourmet shop, and a blanket we had in the trunk of the car. Taking her hand, I led her over to a grassy area underneath a tree. We got the blanket spread out, and we sat down. I reached into the bag for the goodies.

"Beautiful day for a picnic," I said.

"Oh, what a wonderful idea!" she beamed. We spread out on the blanket and enjoyed the gourmet sandwiches I had bought, and the day. 

"So, what made you think of this?" she asked.

"What you said the other day."

"Oh," she beamed. 

After we ate, we decided to go to, of all places, the zoo-which is right in Forest Park. We'd been there before, of course, but with the kids. The two of us wandered through the zoo like we were kids. The antics of the monkeys made us both laugh. We ended up strolling through the place hand-in-hand.

"This is nice," Cammie said.

"Yeah."

Then she turned to me, leaned up, and kissed me. And it hit me like a punch in the gut. Look, this kiss was in public. It wasn't exactly a full-on makeout session or anything. It was just a kiss. And I don't think she'd kissed me like that in years.

Or maybe it was me ignoring it for all those years. 

We drove home so we'd be there in time to greet the kids. "Glenn? Thanks. I had more fun today than I've had in ages."

"Same goes for me."

--Eleven-

We made dinner, ate with the kids, watched TV with them for a while. Afterwards, when they had gone to bed, Cammie and I just stayed in the living room, watching the Cardinals. 

"Would you like to see what I bought today?" she asked.

"Sure." She used to love to give me fashion shows-she hadn't done it in a while. She went upstairs and, a few minutes later, came down. She was wearing a very nice navy blue dress. It was knee-length. It buttoned down the front, and she had left a few buttons undone. It wasn't overtly sexy, but it showed of her curves well, and it was nice. I told her so.

"Well, I'm glad you like it, but that's not what I really wanted to show you. The dress is just the opening act." Her hands went to the buttons on her dress. She started unbuttoning it, very slowly. Painfully slowly.

That's when I realized it-she was going slow because her hands were shaking. And then I looked at her face. If this was an attempt at seduction-well, it wasn't. It was desperation, and she looked like she could barely go through with it. She'd obviously bought some sexy undergarments, planning on showing them to me, in an attempt at seducing me back into our sex life-and she looked like a scared 13-year-old virgin.

"Cammie?" I said. She looked at me. Dammit-there was a tear rolling down her cheek!

FUCK ME! What had I done to this woman? She'd been my best friend for how long? Even before we were lovers, she was my best friend. After we were lovers, she was both. And, now, I'd hurt her so bad it was a fucking effort for her to take her clothes off for me. 

I wanted to run. Quite honestly, at that point in time, I wanted to run, get in the car, and smash it into the nearest tree. But running would've really hurt her. 

"Cammie?" I said again. She looked up, buttons half undone. I got up out of the couch, walked over to her, took her hand, and led her back to the couch. "Was there something under here you wanted me to see?" She sniffled and nodded. I reached for the still-fastened buttons. "Can I see it?" She sniffled and nodded again. I started undoing the remaining buttons. "Cammie, why are you crying?"

"I feel so pathetic." She looked at me. "I wanted to seduce you. And when I went to do it, I felt so pathetic and desperate." 

"That's funny, because I feel like scum for doing this to you." I was still working on her buttons. I got them all undone, and I reached for the dress and slipped it off her shoulders. She stood up to get the rest of it off, then stood before me. She was wearing a black bustier, her ample tits popping out from the top of it. The garters coming off the bustier held up black stockings. She wore no panties. It would've been enormously seductive if she didn't have a lost little girl look on her face. 

"Of all the words I could come up with to describe how you look right now, pathetic wouldn't be one of them," I said with a lopsided grin. I got at least a half of a smile in return. "Come here," I said, and she sat back down on the couch. She did, and I took her in my arms.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I'm sorry, too," she echoed. She clung to me. "Glenn? I know it's a lot to ask right now, but I badly need you to make love to me."

"It's not a lot to ask. Let's go upstairs."

"No. Here." She was reaching for my belt buckle. 

"What if the kids come down?"

"Then they get an education," she chuckled. She reached down to get my shirt off. I helped her, and then my pants came off. She sat there on the couch, just holding me, her hand on my dick, mine on her boob.

"Are you sure? No guilt?" I asked.

"Only guilt about letting it go this long," she said ruefully. "Please, Glenn, make love to me."

I did, right there, on the living room floor, couch pillows underneath Cammie's head and ass. She wrapped her arms and legs around me and held on for dear life as I plunged in and out of her. She came, moaning softly-mindful of the kids upstairs--just before I did. Afterwards, I picked her up off the floor and carried her upstairs to our bed. 

Two hours later, we were lazily lying on the bed in each other's arms. "Glenn? I don't want you to think that I, you know, was trying to, you know...."

I knew. "Yes, you were, but that's OK," I laughed.

She smiled and said, "Look. Sex isn't going to solve our problems. But it was an important part of our relationship from the first." 

"Yes, it was." 

"And I needed you so badly."

"I needed you, too. I do love you, Cammie."

"And I love you."

--Twelve-

No, that didn't fix everything. Life's not that simple. But it did help. It helped a lot.

What also helped, and Cammie told me more than she'd ever imagined it would, was her improved work schedule. But that wasn't all-I had to adjust my attitude, too. I'd been home, but not for her. The fact that she was there, and I was there mentally, made a huge difference.

I remembered how fun she was, and she did the same. It was nice to not make dinner by myself. It was nice to not watch the ball game by myself. And, she told me, it was nice to be able to do those things and not worry about whether or not I wanted her there.

She was right. Feeling old was my problem. It wasn't hers, I just projected it on to her. We went back to Forest Park in late October, before the weather got too bad. We did a picnic and the zoo again, this time with the kids. But instead of being two people just there for their kids, painfully distant from one another, we were together. The kids didn't say anything, but Jessie-who's wonderfully perceptive-did say to me, around this time, "I've never seen you this happy, Dad. It's nice."

Six months after this, my company had a formal dinner-dance. Cammie and I went and had an excellent time.

"Which one's Kiersten?" she finally asked, late in the evening.

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah." I pointed her out. She was there with a guy who also worked with us, she'd been seeing him for a few months. She looked happy. I was glad of that.

Before I could stop her, Cammie walked right up to Kiersten. "Are you Kiersten?" She nodded. "I'm Cammie, Glenn's wife. I wanted to thank you."

Kiersten's eyes bugged out of her head. "Thank me?!?!?"

"Yes. You saved my marriage. It was a slap in the face that both of us needed. Thank you," and then she walked away, back towards me.

I was right. I knew Kiersten was going to change my life. I was just mistaken about how.

I thought I was going to fall in love with her. Instead, I fell back in love with my wife.



--fin-



















 


