“Maybe not,” I said. “Or, not entirely. But showing off your girlfriend isn’t the same as watching another guy fuck her.”
“Details,” Trip countered. “You know why they want privacy at their new home, don’t you? So they can play sex games and run around naked. Besides, he’s a baseball player. We’re all horndogs. Didn’t you know that?”
I tried not to smile but couldn’t help myself.
“Seriously, dude,” Trip said. “I think they wanna try swinging. I know you’re the expert, but I’m not so bad myself. I mean, I’ve been doing this almost as long as you have. And, no offense, but you’ve been in a rut lately. When’s the last time you and Christy got together with us? Or Mark and Leah? Or… anyone, for that matter? Since before Laurie was born.”
He didn’t have a clue what Christy and I had gone through over the past year. He knew about some of it, but he still dismissed it as “all in her head” or “what mothers are supposed to do.” I wanted to punch him in the face, so I took a deep breath to calm down. I really needed to find an outlet for my aggression.
“Let’s talk to the girls tonight over dinner,” Trip said, the voice of reason. “I’m pretty sure Brett and Mindy are up for swinging. I mean… dude! She gave you a handjob with him right next door. That’s bold. Besides, Wren totally likes Brett. And you know Christy wouldn’t mind another dick to suck.”
“I suppose,” I said.
“Come on, dude. Where’s the Paul I used to know? The swinger! The stud! The ladies’ man!”
“He’s a husband and father now.”
“So? You’re still a man, aren’t you?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Do we need to ask Mindy?” he teased. Then he grinned and clapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s get you outta this rut you’re in. You need to loosen up and have fun.”
“If you say so.”
* * *
We signed several more contracts in early 1991 and started hiring full-time staff, including an intern for me, a woman named Whitney. Trip and Wren sold their condo and moved into a much larger house, with a yard and a swimming pool. Christy and I did the same, although ours didn’t have a pool. It had a detached garage instead, which we turned into a studio where she could finally sculpt larger pieces. Her quality of life improved almost immediately. She slept through the night, ate well, and gained nearly five pounds.
“Kiss me! I’m finally back to triple digits,” she told me one morning, although she went from excited to thoughtful with whiplash speed.
“I know that look,” I chuckled. “Lemme guess… you’re wondering how much semen weighs?”
“How’d you know?” she pretend-pouted. Then she glanced at the door. “Laurie’s still asleep. We have time if you want to…”
“I’ll be late for work.” Still, I began unbuttoning my shirt.
“I know your boss. Besides, you work better without all that pressure.”
“I do,” I chuckled.
“Mmm… my favorite words, still.”
Suburban life suited us, although I still felt restless, like something was missing. I decided to join a gym and start boxing again. I was rusty at first but improved quickly. I didn’t have any desire to fight in matches, but I enjoyed the training. I also enjoyed hitting things that wouldn’t get me fired, arrested, or killed.
The exercise improved my stamina too. I hadn’t gone to seed, but I hadn’t had time for weightlifting or regular workouts since Laurie had been born. I lost ten pounds almost immediately, and I started to see definition in my arms, chest, and abs again.
Christy noticed immediately, and our sex life took a dramatic turn. It had been getting better for the past year, especially once we started swinging again, but it really kicked into high gear after I joined the gym.
“Oh my gosh,” she panted one night after two rounds. “I need to start doing aerobics again. Or Jazzercise. Or… something. Maybe I’ll start doing yoga. I can’t believe how sore I am. It’s a good sore, but still…” She stretched with a squeak.
“I think I want to get our toys out again,” she continued after a moment. “I know I haven’t really been in the mood for a while, especially with everything going on, but… I need it. I need you to hold me down and spank me, or tie me up and fuck me. Like, really hard. And… um… what do you think if I get a piercing?”
“What kind of piercing?”
“Nothing crazy,” she said quickly. “Not my face or anything. Only… I was thinking… maybe a little ring in my belly button? I’m excited now that I have one again.”
“Sure. If you’d like.”
“Thank you.” She fell silent again, but I could feel her working up to something.
“What is it?” I chuckled.
“You know me so well.”
“Mmm, I do.”
“Do you remember Nikki? From UT?”
“Nikki Tomasini? Yeah, of course. She’s hard to forget.” I wondered how the patriarchy was treating her. “What about her?”
“When we played strip poker…?”
“Also hard to forget,” I chuckled. Then I put the pieces together. “Hold on, are you talking about—?”
“Please don’t say no until you hear me out!”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“I know my body’s back to normal, but it isn’t the same. My nipples aren’t as sensitive as they used to be. That’s part of why I want to start using our toys again. And… I… um…”
I waited.
“I… don’t feel sexy sometimes.”
“You are, though.”
“Thank you. Only, I don’t feel like it.”
“So… what? You want to get your nipples pierced? Like Nikki?”
“Yes, please.”
“Why?”
She sat up, and I saw for the first time how excited she was.
“It’s supposed to make them more sensitive. And I like the way it looks. I’d have little nipple hard-ons. Like, all the time. The woman in the place showed me hers.”
My eyebrows twitched in surprise.
“Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“No kidding!” I laughed. “What woman, what place?”
“The little tattoo parlor by the pizza place we like.”
I nodded.
“I drove by there the other day on the way to the Chinese place. You know the one, with the mapo tofu and the yummy spring rolls.”
“I love the way your life revolves around food sometimes,” I chuckled. “Anyway, sorry to interrupt. Keep going.”
“Where was I? Oh, right, the woman. I went in to ask about getting my belly button pierced, and we started talking about other piercings. Oh my gosh, Paul, you have to meet her. She’s like me—she likes pain, I think. Only, I don’t think she’s bi. Maybe she is and just doesn’t like vanilla housewives, but—”
“You’re hardly vanilla.”
“I’m still a housewife. And that’s part of why I want to do this. A piercing, I mean.”
“It sounds like you want three,” I chuckled.
“I want more than that,” she said earnestly, “but the woman said to start with something simple.”
I snorted.
“A belly button is simple.”
“Nipples aren’t.”
“Yes, they are. Oh my gosh, Paul, you should see some of the other things she has pierced. Sensitive things. Lady part things.”
“She showed you?” I said incredulously.
She made a Christy-leap of logic. “Hmm, maybe you’re right.”
“About what?”
“Maybe she is bi. She showed me everything, even her piercings down there. She asked if I wanted to touch them. Maybe my radar was confused ’cause I was so excited.” She thought back. “Yeah, she’s definitely bi. Or lesbian. I’m not sure.” She made another leap. “Anyway, I don’t think I’m ready for that. Piercing my clit, I mean.”