Page 40 of The Sound Of Us

“They were happy, so I guess it’s okay.”

“You gotta stop reading that nonsense.”

I reach back and press the bottle into his stomach.

“Hmm, what’s this?” Frank strokes my growing erection. I don’t know if he’s referring to the lube or my hard-on, but it doesn’t matter. Frank doesn’t wait for an answer. He pops the lid off the bottle and slips his lubed hand between us. Within seconds, he’s inside me.

This is how it’s supposed to be between husband and husband after ten years of marriage. Quiet, predictable sex. A few problems every so often. But all in all, a quiet, decent life somewhere in the world where nobody cares.

But as Frank fucks me, the faceless, nameless stranger in my fantasy begins to take shape. With every stroke of my imagination’s paintbrush, his face becomes more and more clear. My mind is wild with this conjuring. So wild, it sends bolts of electrical charges slicing through my body.

Eli Saxon.

Eli Saxon is the one holding me to him, back to chest. Eli Saxon’s stubbled chin digging into my shoulder, scraping my skin there. His mouth on my bare skin. Biting, sucking. It’ll be red in the morning and I’ll admire it.

Deep inside my secret mind, in the depths of my secret heart, it’s Eli Saxon who is fucking me. It’s Eli Saxon’s cock inside me. His hand around my dick.

And I come.

For the first time in so many years, my orgasm with Frank is full and satisfying and impressive.

Frank’s voice in my ear yanks me away from my beautiful darkness and brings me back to reality. “You liked that, huh?” he says.

Horror engulfs me once more. My mind is a turbulent ocean. I’m an erratic wave, crashing this way and that, capable of creating nothing but destruction.

I’ll cut my hair.

Frank doesn’t like my long hair. So, tomorrow I’ll cut it.

Chapter 20

Eli

I don’t regret it. Kissing him. I don’t regret it.

I’m on my thirty-third variation of 101 ways to make pasta in fifteen minutes.

I don’t regret it. And I don’t think he does either. I know he acted like he did, but the way he felt in my arms, the way he responded to me… so sweet and sincere. So unsure but his passion was undeniable.

You made him cheat.

The newly renovated living room listens while I ramble on in my head and eat my spinach and Parmesan cheese pasta.

He’s married.

I don’t care. Fuck Frank.

I’ll find a way to get Axel away from Frank. I’ll take him back home. I’ll teach him sign language. I’ll listen to the vibrations of his music. I’ll hold him when he cries about betraying Frank, because I have a feeling he’s that type.

And I’ll buy him books. I’ll buy him so many books he’ll still be reading them when he’s ninety. He could live in my father’s library if he wanted to.

A gust of wind blows out the curtain, as if to disagree with my plans. I get up and close the window. Any disagreements will be shut out in the same way.

I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher after eating and, while I walk through the house, I think about how big and lonely it suddenly feels. When I got here, I enjoyed the solitude. I liked walking through the house, imagining my father as a little boy. But now… I want to lie on the couch and talk with someone about books and life and art. Make love on the carpet in front of the fire.

What I want is Axel. I’ll pursue him until his heart beats only for me. I will selfishly have him, one way or another. And my justification for all of it, all these thoughts so out of character for me, is that Frank Davis doesn’t deserve his husband.

I catch a movement outside the kitchen window. Axel, dressed in sweats, jogs along the edge of the property. Pepper trots leisurely next to him.

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