He’d made a huge mistake. His wife couldn’t handle being that sexually adventurous. It was such a stupid fucking mistake! As much as Caroline had evolved, both sexually and otherwise, their encounter with Emma and Pete had been too much for her, and deep down, he’d known it.
He risked his marriage to the only woman who had ever held his attention for more than ten minutes for a fucking ejaculation.
He stood and began to pace.
Piper had insisted she go to Caroline alone instead of him. He’d argued, but she’d been adamant. She’d told him that she knew better than he did how to tackle what Caroline was coping with. That Caroline needed someone to commiserate with, not “someone to tell her nothing was wrong and it was all going to be okay.”
He’d reluctantly agreed.
Pacing around the bed wasn’t getting him anywhere, so he went out into the hallway. After he’d left Piper’s, he’d texted Caroline a dozen times, but so far she hadn’t responded. As he passed by, he was tempted to ram his fist through the wall, but he resisted the urge. Caroline would have been horrified when she came home and found it damaged.
Instead, he headed down to the kitchen and grabbed some milk out of the fridge and a glass. As he sat down at the table—the same table he had trouble looking at right now—he had an idea.
Caroline wasn’t going to want to remember anything that had happened in the last few months. He knew his wife. Once she came home, and he reassured her they were going to get past this, she would cringe at all the things that reminded her of what he was certain she felt was the road to infidelity. Even though he didn’t see it that way at all.
He downed his drink, stood, and made his way to the basement.
Once he entered their “sex room,” he couldn’t help but feel disgusted. He took in the bed, the swing, the TV to blare their favorite porn. It was all too much. If he’d known then what he knew now, he would have decided that fucking his wife
anywhere
was enough.
They didn’t need all this shit.
Storming to the swing, he yanked it down. Then he began to disassemble everything. His wife was going to come home to the way things used to be. The way she wanted them. His mother-in-law would be happy, too, because she’d have her fancy bathroom back. He climbed onto the bed and started to tear down the mirrors he’d stuck up there with industrial adhesive. Some of the sheetrock and paint came away with them, but he’d have it all fixed by this afternoon.
As he worked, he couldn’t help thinking about his wife alone in that hotel room. She was probably reliving the night, and each time she did, she would spiral deeper into guilt. He wished like hell he was the one going over there, not Piper.
But he had to grudgingly admit that Piper would likely have a better way with words—especially since she had been through this before.
He had to pray it would be enough to bring Caroline home.
21
__________________________
____________
C
aroline climbed back in bed and pulled the covers over her head, but before she had, she’d positioned the safety-bar thingy between the doorjamb and the door so Piper could get in. Not seven minutes later, there was a rap, followed by Piper’s melodic voice. “I’m coming in, and I brought ice cream!”
Caroline didn’t bother getting up or even opening her mouth to welcome her. Piper’s footsteps came to the bedroom doorway.
“Oh, so we’re in full-on feel-sorry-for-ourselves mode, huh? Okay. I can deal.” Caroline heard her go back into the other room and open the small fridge. “But you don’t get to do that alone.” Piper was back in her room. “Move over. I’m getting into bed with you.” Caroline felt the covers tug back. “Move, you’re hogging the entire bed and all the covers.”
Caroline grunted as she shuffled her body over. “Fine,” she muttered, “but I’m not talking to you, so don’t bother.”
“When have I ever needed someone to answer me? I’m perfectly fine rocking a monologue. In fact, I can talk to invisible crowds for hours upon hours at a time. You don’t scare me with your McGruff.” Caroline was surprised when Piper wrapped her arm around her waist and tugged her back against her. “Don’t stiffen up like that. I’m not trying to have sex with you! I’m just trying to give you some much-needed comfort. And, dude, you need it. Relax. Attagirl. That’s it.”
Caroline let herself relax, and immediately began to cry, which quickly morphed into loud, body-racking sobs.
“There, there,” Piper crooned. “I always have a really good cry after great sex, too. It’s such a cleanser for the dirty palate. It clears out all the guilt and anxiety like a charm. Go on”—she rubbed Caroline’s arm—“weep out every last drop, and then we get to eat ice cream.”
“It’s six thirty in the morning. Ice cream does
not
fix everything,” Caroline wailed. “This is not funny!”
“Of course it’s not funny. I never said it was. You need this. Cry away. And, yes, fortunately for us, ice cream does have magical healing powers. They’re missing a golden opportunity by not marketing that on the front of the container. If an ice cream company hired my ad agency, and I got the campaign, I’d insist on rebranding. I didn’t bring praline this time, though. I went for the deep, dark stuff—dark chocolate with salted caramel something or other. You can’t go wrong with salted caramel these days. It’s freakin’ everywhere.”
“Pass me some tissues.” Caroline sniffled. “They’re on the bed stand next to you.” A second later, Piper passed a pile of tissues over her shoulder. Caroline took them and turned slightly so she was lying half on her back, still under Piper’s arm, and blew her nose. “I know you just think I’m a big baby who can’t handle herself.” She hiccupped. “That what I did wasn’t so bad and I’m so stupid to be this upset.”
“If I thought you were stupid, we never would’ve come this far in our friendship. Stupid people make me rashy and bitch-slappy. And let’s face it, I told you to take baby steps, and instead you took a giant leap off the big, scary sexual cliff. I’m not surprised to find you here”—Piper craned her head to examine the room—“in this super-modern hotel suite, folded in on yourself, feeling nauseous and scared, and totally worried about the state of your marriage. You know, come to think about it, I’ve never been to HotelRED before. Next time, I’m picking it for
my
breakdown place. It’s kind of cheery, but cold at the same time. The perfect place to pull up your bootstraps.”
How did Piper know Caroline so well? She should be a therapist. Begrudgingly, Caroline had to admit she felt better having her here. But she wasn’t ready to confess that to her yet.
“Speaking of bootstraps,” Piper continued. “If you remember correctly, before you went on your merry videotaping adventure, I told you you didn’t even have to get naked if you didn’t want to. Then I find out that you not only got naked, but you and Jace fucked like people possessed in front of the Slaters. There is no stupidity in that—only unbridled passion and crushing regret. Hey, that should be the name of a soap opera, if it’s not already.”
Caroline flinched like she’d been slapped at the words
fucking like people possessed
. She was so embarrassed. Through more tears, she managed, “You don’t have to be so vulgar about it.” Then she groaned. “God, I sound just like my mother!” Then she dissolved into another fit of crying.
Piper ran her hand along her shoulder and down her arm, waiting until she could gather herself again.
It was a while.
“All jokes aside, I get it,” Piper said, still stroking her. “I get why you’re here. But I’m also here to tell you it’s not as bad as you think it is. That’s not something you want to hear right now, but I’m going to lay it on you anyway and prepare you for the tide of happiness that’s about to come your way. But first, I need you to tell me what actually happened at the Slaters’ house—in detail. Well, not like
porn-y
detail. But I need more clarity. I only got the bare bones from your totally miserable and guilt-ridden husband. He said Pete was involved. I need to know what exactly happened so we can suss it all out.” Piper’s voice broke on the word
suss
, their new inside joke.
“Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it,” Caroline said. “It was awful, and I don’t feel like reliving it.” She didn’t mention reliving it was all she’d done for hours upon hours.
“That’s too damn bad,” Piper said, her voice stern. “In order to get to the bottom of your well of unbridled guilt—which we all know runs extremely deep—we need to go through this methodically. I need to know how far it went. If Pete actually fucked you, I’m going to set up a meeting with a marriage counselor who specializes in this sort of thing, so you can save your marriage. A counselor I happen to have a very up close and personal relationship with. Her name is Marianne, and she’s an absolute boss. I see her once a week. If a lot less happened, I’m going to work you through it right here and now.” She pressed a fingertip into Caroline’s shoulder. “And when you get out of this bed, you’re going to feel refreshed and ready to go home to work this out with your loving husband.”
“That’s going to happen,” Caroline replied. “I can tell you already. I’m not ready to face him yet. And, no! Absolutely not. Pete didn’t do anything…close to that.” She shuddered. “He…he…just touched me. But it made me…” Caroline couldn’t finish before she dissolved into another crying jag.
“He made you come when he touched you? Is that it? When your husband hadn’t been successful?” Piper asked, her voice soft, her hand back to patting Caroline.
“Yes!” Caroline wailed.
“And you liked it, right? That’s where this humonstrous guilt is coming from. You liked what Pete did, you had a huge orgasm, and now you’re plagued with guilt. You lived your daydream in real living color, and it’s scared the crap out of you.”
All Caroline could do was nod as she sobbed quietly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
“So…” Piper paused. “Did he, like, rub your clit to get you to come?”
Caroline sucked in a breath so fast she had to rap on her chest to find air again. “No!” She coughed. “He was nowhere near my…
hoo-ha
.”
Piper tossed her head back into the pillow and laughed. “You slay me. Dude, if we weren’t way past hoo-has before, we are
so
past them now. So you’re telling me he didn’t fuck you and wasn’t anywhere near your pussy. Is that correct?”
“Correct.”
“So he sucked your tits, then? He loves tits. He really can’t get enough.”
“Piper!”
“What? We both know you had sexy-times with the Slaters. It’s all out in the open. Pete loves to suck. That’s his thing. But that’s neither here nor there. I need you to tell me what the hell he did to drive you here—bubbling like a fountain under the covers in an expensive hotel when the Hampton Inn is right down the street. So far, what you’ve told me is not anything you can’t get past. Well, except if he, like, defecated on you or something equally gross. You’d have to go to counseling for that for sure. I don’t get those fetishes. They creep me out.”
“Gross! No! He…used his hands.”
“Hands where?”
“My breasts.”
“Like, fondled your nipples?”
Caroline teared up. “
Yes
.”
“How did he do it?”
Caroline craned her head up to look at her friend. “Honestly, does it really matter? The deed was done. He used his hands on my nipples, and I came. Then my head spun, and I couldn’t think straight!”
“It matters. Trust me. Did he do it in, like, a big, meaty caveman possessive way, like, all
arrrrgh
?” She lowered her voice to a growl and mimicked grabbing on to something and squeezing it in the air between them. “Or did he, like, tweak them lightly?” She pinched her fingers together and tilted her wrist to the side.
“Lightly.”
“For how long?”
“Not long.”
“What are we talking here? A minute or a few seconds?”
“Seconds.”
Piper edged up on her elbow and glanced down at Caroline, grinning. “So, you’re telling me Pete lightly fondled your nipples for about two seconds, and you were so turned on by your own husband, and the scene before you, that you came instantly? Nothing else happened? There was no clit licking or nipple sucking on his part? His dick is super long, you know. You might’ve wished he was doing more—”
“
Stop
! Stop it!” Caroline cried. “That was it! But I’m not going to let you dismiss this as nothing happened. A touch is a touch. He laid his hands on me, and I came! Once I recovered, I couldn’t believe I was actually there—in that awful Pleasure Paradise, watching two people have sex—let alone allowing one of them to touch me! It was all so surreal and crazy. My brain felt fuzzy and muted after, like I was drunk. But I’d only had a drink and a half. And why didn’t you tell me they have a sex lair in their basement?” Caroline accused. “That wasn’t fair. I walked in thinking they were normal, and we’d, like, go into their bedroom or something. Then they usher us down there, and it’s like a dirty-movie set.”
“Normal is a four-letter word to me. And that place is the bomb, isn’t it? But in a totally who-are-these-people kind of way. If I’d told you, you never would’ve gone. But now I think we’re finally getting someplace,” Piper said excitedly. “And I’m not dismissing anything, I swear, but what you’re describing is a full-blown panic attack. Brain fuzzy, can’t think straight. Were you shaking?”