Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
She gasps after the last angry words fly out of her mouth, her hand I’m not holding slapping over her mouth as her shocked eyes flick to Doc.
“It’s all right, Savannah. This is a safe space for you to express whatever emotions you might be feeling. You are welcome to say anything you need in order to convey what’s hurting you,” Doc assures her, and her hand slowly lowers from her mouth to rest in her lap. She focuses her eyes there, refusing to look at me.
“First, the texts weren’t ‘hidden’ under a man’s name. Pete is the husband’s name, and it was a messaging thread between the three of us, so he could watch and get off on the conversation. And if I’m being honest, then yes, I must admit I enjoyed the texting, but not why you probably think I did. As I said, for me, I was pretending I was talking to you, and it was fun flirting back and forth. It’s… it’s something you and I haven’t done in a very, very long time. And it felt like I was back years ago, when we were dating and we would take the time to send each other sexy messages to rile each other up and build the anticipation for when we’d be together again. All we do now is ask if the other person needs something on our way home from work, or send reminders for appointments, or ‘hey, where’d you leave the remote?’”
I shake my head, because I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining about our marriage in the slightest. “Which I’m sure is completely normal for married couples. I’m just saying it was fun, made me feel young again, and I wished the whole time it was you on the other end of the line and not some stand-in.”
She looks at me with watery eyes, and I can see she’s waging a war inside herself. “Why didn’t you just say something? Why didn’t you just… send me a sexy text or ask me for a naughty video?” Her face flares red, and her eyes flick in Doc’s direction for just a fraction of a second. I hate that she’s embarrassed in front of him, because I don’t want her to filter herself. Ever, but especially not right now.
I gentle my tone, hoping like hell I don’t sound patronizing. “Baby, I did. I’d send you a message telling you what I wanted to do to your body, in great detail, but then your reply would be a quick ‘Can’t wait for tonight,’ or ‘Meet you in Playroom 3 at the club.’” I look down at where her hand flinched in mine, then meet her teary eyes again. “There was no back-and-forth, no flirtation, nothing really for me to respond to and keep the conversation going.”
She sniffs. “I was working. I was trying to get my shit done so I wouldn’t be thinking about it when I got home, so I could focus on you. If I’d taken the time to—”
I cut off her rising frantic words. “Savannah, I know. I know that. You don’t have to defend yourself. I’m aware it’s a completely juvenile excuse why I was talking to another woman. I don’t deny that. But at the time, it seemed harmless, since I wasn’t actually fucking someone else. I was never going to touch another person.”
“But even so, why does it still hurt like you did?” she asks, her voice cracking, the question making her tears spill down her cheeks.
Doc speaks up then, and I’m grateful for the explanation he provides the both of us. “Some would say an emotional affair is worse than a physical one. Since it’s common knowledge some people can completely separate their emotions from the act of sex, it seems much more intimate when the transgression involves the adulterer’s feelings. I believe, Savannah, that your pain is coming from the belief that Roman may have been having an emotional affair while spending all that time texting with her. You’re worried he now feels some sort of attachment to her, a connection you believe was reserved only for you, even though he didn’t actually physically touch her.”
When I look at my wife again, she’s nodding in agreement.
“That’s exactly it, Doc,” she murmurs. “He admitted he liked texting with her, liked the flirting. So how could he not have deeper feelings for this woman? Especially if he’s seen her in her most intimate moments.”
He asks carefully, “Tell me this. When you’re at the club, where members are openly displaying their ‘most intimate moments,’ do you feel the same way when Roman watches the scenes?”
Her brows furrow as she thinks about his question. “No, not at all. But we’re there together. Watching it together. I’m there too; it’s not him viewing all of that by himself.” A moment passes. “Behind my back.” She swallows thickly, and she sniffles again. “I’ve done absolutely everything he’s ever wanted me to, not only as his wife but as his submissive. And I don’t say that begrudgingly. I’ve done all of it happily, with pleasure. The only boundary I’ve ever established, the only limit I’ve ever had, is to not pull my hair. It’s a trigger, and everyone who needs to, knows this about me. So I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have brought his fantasy up, like everything else we’ve ever tried sexually.”