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Picturing the married couples I know whose relationships are some degree of open, I couldn't help wondering if there's always one partner who'd rather be curled up in front of the TV than out trolling for strange, yet does the latter anyway, to please and hold onto their partner.Depressed by Mike and Sheila's too-familiar dynamic, I urged James to leave them to their own devices and explore the rest of the club with me. It wasn't a big place, and it wasn't very crowded, but I was the youngest woman there by 20 years and I felt like I was being stared at.
The guy receiving the blow job closed his eyes and leaned back, emitting little yelps of pleasure.
I stared at him in the dark, wondering what, exactly, he wanted.
Had he been hoping something would happen between us? My own motives were equally murky: I'd told myself and my friends that I was going for the sheer novelty of the experience, and that was definitely part of it, but I'd also been hoping for something a little more…climactic. “Maybe you need to be the one to make something interesting happen,” I said.
Aside from the sketchiness of the place itself, part of what was weird about this outing was that James and I are not a couple. We've gotten closer in the three years we've known each other, and there's always been something faintly illicit about our relationship, partly because he's a straight, married man and I'm a straight, single lady, and partly because our rapport was never wholly innocent: yes, we have similar politics and senses of humor, but we're also attracted to each other. People who don't know us usually assume we're sleeping together.
But the truth is, I'm no home-wrecker and James loves his wife.
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At some point, he sidled up to me and confided in a low voice, “That woman Sheila's been talking to, she's all right, she's a cute girl.