Things I Never Told My Wife
True confessions of a Shakespearean actor
Chapter 10
DAPHNE WAS A STRANGE DUCK. Oh, God! Did I say ‘duck?’ Daphne Duck? She’d kill me. I don’t think I’ll mention that.
But as to strange, I have to let that stand. I think she’d agree.
After the night of drinking with Rebecca and Jackie, Daphne agreed to go out with me. That’s a logistical nightmare. Theatre people are at the theatre all the time and we work long hours and odd hours. It was normal for me to leave the theatre at eleven at night. And after some Shakespeare shows, later. Nonetheless, Daphne didn’t seem to mind late night dates and even preferred them to getting up in the morning.
We didn’t start ‘going steady’ either. We’d have a date one weekend and go three weeks without seeing each other more than to say hi. We didn’t get to the point of sleeping together for months. I’ll get around to that story later. Once the ice had been broken for me, I dated a few others. Daphne wasn’t even the first I slept with while we were dating.
Daphne wasn’t a theatre person. By that, I mean she’d had no formal training. But she was born and raised in Ashland and had been around the festival all her life. She’d volunteered as an usher, been cast a few times as an extra, and even got a part-time job in the costume shop. She did laundry. I knew what condition my costumes were in after a show. I didn’t envy her the job. Rumor had it I wasn’t the first actor she’d gone out with and probably wasn’t the exclusive one. We had an open relationship. At least, that’s the way I interpreted it.
I left for Portland in the fall so we didn’t see too much of each other over the winter. She came up to Portland for a weekend a couple of times. Before I headed for Portland that year, I was told I needed to choose one theatre or the other as they were both moving to year-round schedules. Daphne didn’t really play a part in my decision to commit to Ashland. Maybe a little part. There would still be shows I wasn’t cast in and could get work elsewhere for a month or so. I did guest appearances and a one-man show my agent picked up for me. I was real bigtime by then and had to have an agent. I tried not to admit it.
Anyway, starting the next season in May, I was living in Ashland full time. I’d rented a room during the seasonal shows, but now I indulged in a nice apartment. I had Daphne over one night and she spent the night. She liked the way I kissed and was as horny as I was most of the time. By Christmas that year, we were practically living together. I say ‘practically’ because Daphne still lived with her parents but was spending four or five nights a week with me. I’d met her parents and they seemed like decent people, though a bit more reserved than CeeCee’s. I thought if something like that happened to Daphne, her parents probably wouldn’t bother to tell me she was dead. They were just kind of absent like that.
We finished A Christmas Carol with a matinee on December 22 and were dark until January 8. In those two and a half weeks Daphne and I set up housekeeping. I’m not sure how we got around to it, but both of us considered living together like this to be the last step before marriage. And children. We were both nearly thirty years old. The first time I mentioned marriage, Daphne got very serious. I thought I was about to hear the same lecture CeeCee had given me about remaining faithful. This one was a little more ambivalent.
“Listen, Terry. We’re together. I agree. I’d love to marry you. You agree. I’m thinking we’ll have a couple of kids sooner rather than later so we can enjoy our senior years without having a brat living with us like I did with my parents. But I want one thing very clear. I never want to hear about your love-life and affairs. And I don’t expect you to ask questions about mine. Those are closed subjects. I haven’t lived around theatre people this long without understanding them. I just never want to hear about it.”
It sounded to me like she didn’t expect me to be faithful and she didn’t expect to be faithful, either. She just wanted to make sure neither of us ever found out about it. I think, if CeeCee had made that kind of statement to me, I’d have had a much different reaction. But with Daphne? Strange.
“I can live with that.”
“Just remember, I don’t believe in divorce. I believe in murder.”
Without going into the details about why I couldn’t tolerate a June wedding, we decided on October. I was in production, but had a week off in October when it happened none of my shows were playing. Schedules work out that way sometimes. We were married and took our honeymoon. My little sister had been married for two years by that time and was going to get the honor of producing the first grandchild. But Mom and Dad came out for our wedding and seemed to like Daphne pretty well. It wasn’t the instant love and adoration that CeeCee inspired, but I was satisfied.
We went to Seattle for our honeymoon. It was a drivable distance and we both were interested in seeing the Emerald City. We’d been living together for nine months so it wasn’t quite like we had to find a hotel where we could hole up and screw for seven days. But we did a lot of that, too. We went to the ballet, the Seattle Art Museum, explored Pike Place Market, and rode the ferry across the Sound and back. And we ate really well.
I feel like a cad to say this, but it seemed that ever since the day we said our vows, women had been coming on to me. And some of them really looked good. I’d been engaged in ‘friendly conversation’ with a couple of them in Ashland, but in Seattle, it seemed like any time I was alone, an attractive woman would work her way into my line of sight, primp a little, smile at me, and finally when I didn’t respond, saunter away. And the thing is that I really wasn’t interested. Maybe I wasn’t… Dad called it ‘whipped’… with Daphne the way I was with CeeCee, but I loved her and I really had no interest in anyone else.
I’m afraid that’s one of those things that change over time.
As soon as we were married, Daphne’s parents put their house on the market and moved to Arizona. Daphne went off birth control the next summer.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.
“Are you asking me or you?”
“Yeah. I mean, I definitely want children. I’m just asking if you think we’re ready.”
“I’m still just doing the same stuff I was before we were married. I work part time in the costume shop, meet you after shows, volunteer as an usher, and live with you rent free. I’d like that one thing that makes it all different. I’d like to put my energy into raising our children.”
“I think you’ll be great at it. And I’ll do the best I can. I’m finally making a decent salary and my agent says she can get me some commercial work on radio and TV. I can’t imagine myself going on television and talking about how great Viagra is, but she says she gets calls every day for actors to do spots for all kinds of products. There’s a possibility I could bring in some extra money with an actual movie, too. Those things would take me away from home a little but they’d bring in enough to be able to afford anything we need for a baby. I’ll have her start negotiating my next season contract. I’ll have a good chance at some leading roles…”
“Terry!” I looked at Daphne. She grabbed my T-shirt in both hands and dragged my face down so she could kiss me. People can learn to be better kissers. Daphne is proof of that. She started off as one of those wide open mouth kissers who you think are going to devour your face. But a little manipulation and nudging here and there and she’d become very sensuous in the way she let our lips melt together. I was a little breathless when she finally let me up for air. “Shut up and fuck a baby into me.”
We were already in bed. She’d gone off her birth control. I was hard after that kiss and when I got my hand under her sleepshirt, I found she wasn’t wearing panties and was good and wet. I pulled the sleepshirt off her and my briefs and shirt off me. I started kissing my way down her body. Maybe I was going to fuck a baby into her but she was going to start with an orgasm to warm things up.
Daphne was one of the girls who never adopted the fully shaved look. Oh, she trimmed back far enough that she could wear a bikini and before our wedding she’d had her lower lips waxed. She had to go in to have that done about every six weeks and was always too sore to touch on those days. I found the thick tuft of black hair on her mons and worked my way down to her smooth wet slit. My fingers hadn’t deceived me and I licked up some of her tasty juices. Then I found her clit and started focusing on it as I drummed my fingers up against the top of her vagina where her G-spot was. I’m not sure I’d ever done that with her before. She exploded in an orgasm powerful enough to dislodge me from her pussy. Her hands tugging on my ears were a signal that I should get up there and get to the business at hand. I had to stop and suck on her nipples as I imagined what her breasts would look like when they were filled with milk for our little ones. I wanted to make sure I’d had my fill of her nipples before they became the property of our children.
And then I reached her lips again and her hand guided my rod into her hot core. We fucked with purpose. I wedged a hand between us and continued to stimulate her clit while I plunged in and out of her. When she reached her next peak, so did I. I’d had unprotected sex before but never with the stated intent of getting a baby back for my effort. And Daphne was on a hair trigger for her own orgasms. She went off again before I was finished.
We lay panting in each other’s arms until sleep claimed us. A couple of hours later, we woke up and did it again. And again in the morning. And again before I headed for the theatre that afternoon. And…
It was almost Christmas. I looked at the calendar on my computer. A computer. On my desk. I scarcely imagined such a thing ten years ago. I had email and a calendar with my rehearsal and performance schedule on it. I could download scripts for some plays. And there were job boards and forums for actors and other theatre people. It was pretty amazing, even if it was expensive.
Back to the calendar. It was December 21st. I didn’t make a big deal out of it but I sort of silently kept the Connors’ ritual for winter solstice in my mind. What was I leaving behind? What were my hopes for the future? I added, what did I want remembered? The past three or four months of sex with my wife was high on that list. I couldn’t remember a time when it was better. Probably because with every squirt into her unprotected vagina, I was trying to make a baby.
“Terry!” Daphne called from the stairs. We’d moved into a small house and I had a private space in the basement where I could get online and practice my lines without disturbing her.
“I’m down here,” I called. Daphne bounded down the stairs and into my den. Stark naked. Oh boy! Speaking of great sex…
“Guess what day today is.” I contemplated saying it was solstice but I started flipping through my memories trying to find some significant event in our lives that I should respond with and coming up short.
“Um… The first day of winter?”
“Yeah, that,” she tossed off. “But today is the day I get to announce to my husband that I’m pregnant!”
What? Oh my god. We did it.
“That’s incredible,” I yelled, jumping up to join her in bouncing up and down. When Daphne bounced up and down, I pretty much just bounced up. She detected my arousal and pressed herself against me.
“I peed on the stick and it came out positive. We’re going to have a baby, Terry.”
“That’s so incredible! I think I’m going to carry my naked wife to bed and celebrate!” I scooped her up in my arms and headed for the stairs.
“Oh, we don’t have to do that anymore. I’m already pregnant.” What? Are you kidding me? I stopped with my foot on the step and stared at her with my mouth open.
“You mean…?”
“Terry, you’re such a dope. I’m kidding! Take me to bed and ravish me. I want to make love to you every day until labor starts. Do you hear me? Every day!”
That was more like it. I carried her up the stairs while she kept kissing my neck and my ear. I laid her on the bed gently and stripped.
“Baby! Daddy’s got a big old hard on. Get ready for a roller coaster ride!” she said, petting her tummy.
I completely planned to fuck Daphne but first I needed to greet the baby. I took one more quick lick of her nipples and then started planting kisses all over her tummy while she giggled and squirmed.
“Little baby, this is Daddy,” I said as I kissed my way down. “You’ve got the most beautiful house to grow in because Mommy’s the most beautiful wife in the world.” I kept kissing closer into her trimmed bush and onto her waxed lips. “And we’re going to keep the passage all slicked up so you can slide right out when the time comes.” I licked her lips and sucked on her clit. Daphne squealed. “And I’m going to remind you that you are just borrowing this passage for the time being. It really belongs to me and my hard cock. So, get ready to rock and roll because Daddy is coming in.” Daphne squealed again as I nibbled her clit and she came.
Then it was a free-for-all. I started on top, plunging my cock into my wife’s hot pussy. She gave me a push and we rolled so I was on my back and she was riding me. I always loved that position because I could play with all the things I loved—clit and tits and lips. Daphne wasn’t satisfied with one more orgasm. She rolled off me and got on her hands and knees so I could get behind her. Sweet lord! I loved pumping into her pussy while I bounced against those beautiful round buns. She was ramping up for another one but I was too far gone to wait. I started spurting inside her and she rubbed her button until she came again.
“Oh God! Maybe we’ll have twins after that! I love you, Terry. I’ll always love you.”
“Oh, Daphne. You are the most important person in the world to me. I love you to the moon and back.” We both lay there panting and exchanging little kisses. I held her as we dozed and napped a bit but I kept an eye on the clock because I had a six o’clock call at the theatre. I started to get up at five. Daphne pulled me down. “Honey, I have to get ready to go to work.”
“Yeah. I want to get you good and ready.” She moved rapidly down my body and sucked my cock into her mouth. Daphne might have needed a little coaching when it came to kissing but she could suck the chrome off a ’57 Cadillac. It wasn’t even a quarter after five when I filled her mouth with my come.
The tradition of the Solstice blowjob survived.
The following months were full of love. Daphne and I spent time preparing the nursery in our two-bedroom bungalow. We got all the pieces by way of several shopping trips—crib, bassinet, changing table, rocking chair. We were very excited and at long last I got rid of the Corvair and bought a new Volvo station wagon. We were about as prepared as we could get by May. Daphne was proudly showing a nice round six-month tummy and I loved it every single day. I put creams on her to combat stretch marks. I massaged her back. I licked her clit. Anything I could do to show how much I loved her.
May, of course, was also when things started to heat up in the theatre. It was the beginning of my fifth season at the Shakespeare Festival and the first year I was asked to take a more active part in fundraising. Early in the season, we introduced a show at a time meaning actors were not normally performing every day. So, some of us were invited to attend ‘events’ at which we would mingle and let rich patrons talk to us as they ate rubber chicken or sipped bar drinks. Our spouses or significant others were invited to attend with us, but by that point, Daphne wasn’t feeling very sociable and begged off.
One of the events was a casino night. Some of the actors were hired as dealers and some as waiters and some as shills to encourage the patrons to spend more. Of course, prizes were awarded to the top winners of the night and the Festival was always number one. I was asked to dress in my tux and stroll around the casino dropping chips on one table or another to chat with a guest. The booze was cheap and flowed freely.
I was chatting at the roulette table when a woman stumbled into me and I knocked over my stack of chips.
“Sorry. So sorry. I think my heel broke.”
I’d seen the woman across the room a few times. She was quite eye-catching. She wore a short black cocktail dress with a deeply plunging neckline. She sparkled with diamonds and wore spiked high heels. Her hair was bleached blonde and she wore enough makeup to go on stage herself. I caught her and looked down—past the prominently displayed cleavage—to her shoes, one of which was definitely missing the heel. I held her up and encouraged her to sit on a stool at the table while I removed her shoes. I didn’t see the heel anyplace and wondered how long she’d been walking around without it.
“If you can stand to go barefoot for a few minutes, I’ll go fetch a pair of slippers from the costume shop downstairs.” I looked up at her and this time my eye was arrested by her parted legs and the bare pussy between them. Completely clean shaven.
“Just throw those old things in a wastebasket. I’ll sit here and play while you fetch slippers, you dear.” She turned to the table, making sure that I had ample opportunity to see up her skirt, and began playing my pile of chips on numbers. Ah well. The actors’ chips were marked and didn’t count toward the prizes of the night. I took her shoes and dropped them in the first trashcan I came to on my way to the costume shop. Then I retrieved one to match for size of the slippers.
“Pam, is there any chance you could take a minute to help me with a guest emergency?” I looked over at the seamstress who was spending the evening working on costumes for the next show.
“You know I’d do anything for you, Terry. What do you need?” We’d had a fairly flirtatious relationship for a couple of years and I’d even taken her out and had sex a few times when I’d started dating. I considered her a good friend.
“The guest broke a heel off her shoe. I looked for it so I could glue it on, but have no idea where she lost it. Is there any chance we could get a pair of cheap shoes or slippers she could wear so she doesn’t go home barefoot?” Pam looked at the shoe in my hand, examining it carefully.
“Mmm. Size eight. I’ve got a box of old ballet slippers we use for rehearsals. Let’s see if we can find a pair that will fit the monster foot.” I didn’t think that was such a big foot. I wore a ten myself. I guess women have different sizes and opinions. Pam grabbed a box and we started rummaging around in it, looking for ‘a six.’ Ballet slippers have their own sizes. She came up with a pair of black canvas ones and handed them to me. I compared the size to the shoe I had and figured it was close enough.
“Thank you, darlink,” I said. “I’ll go be Prince Charming and try the slippers on her dainty feet.”
“You owe me.”
“What do I owe you this time?” It was part of the game we played. Even when she handed me one of my costumes, it was always with an IOU.
“A kiss. A good one. Right now. I haven’t had any loving in months.” Well, I’d kissed Pam many times and had no difficulty pulling her lips to mine for a little peck. She had other ideas. She wanted a serious kiss. A couple of minutes later, I was holding her close to me by her butt cheeks and getting my mouth thoroughly reamed.
“Um… I need to get these slippers to Cinderella,” I said, finally pulling away. Pam grinned at me.
“If she turns into a pumpkin, come back and we’ll do this some more.”
I hustled back up to the casino party and found the woman with a drastically reduced pile of my chips in front of her.
“Found something,” I said as I came up to her. “Let me get these on you and you’ll be able to walk around again.”
“I thought you’d forgotten me. I was so disappointed I was betting all your chips on black for the next spin.”
“Just took a bit to find a pair that would work. Shall I slip these on you?”
“Yes. How gallant of you.” She emphasized the second syllable of gallant. She spun on the stool and presented her foot to me, once again spreading her legs enough that I had a clear view up her skirt. I wondered how many others at the party had appreciated this view. I took my time enjoying it as I put her feet in the slippers.
“There you go, Cinderella. You are ready for the ball.”
“I am so ready to ball,” she whispered. “Come and get me another little drinky-poo, handsome prince.” She slipped off the stool and I realized how much shorter she was than I thought. Those heels must have added six inches.
“Tend to our guest, Terry. I’ll gather your chips for you,” John said. He was playing Malvolio in Twelfth Night and I was the foppish Sir Andrew Aguecheek. I offered the woman my arm and led her to the bar.
“I didn’t get your name,” I said. “I’m Terry Reichert.”
“Sandra Willard. Thank you for rescuing me. I do hate these parties. But I have money and I’m obligated to come and spread it around. Would you like something? I’ll have scotch on the rocks.” I ordered her drink and thought I’d extract myself and return to playing and meeting other patrons. She had other ideas. She kept a tight hold on my arm and walked me out to the lobby and then to a quiet corner. “Now let me express my full appreciation,” she said.
She reached for a kiss by the simple expedient of putting her arms around my neck and jumping up to wrap her legs around my waist. I hadn’t really looked at her face during our adventure. I was surprised that what I saw closing in on me from this short distance was considerably older than I’d first assumed. She attacked my mouth with vigor. I mean, she had her tongue half-way down my throat in a second. And being the louse that I am, having just had an arousing kiss with Pam, I decided to just enjoy the moment. She started to slip, so I moved my hands to support her and found the short skirt had ridden up to her waist when she wrapped her legs around me and I had her bare butt in my hands. She moaned.
“Yes,” she rasped. “Touch me. Feel me. Kiss me.”
God help me, I did. It was no difficulty at all for my hands to part her cheeks and one to slip down into her wetness. When I found her clit, she started panting.
“Get your cock out and put it in me. I want your cock.”
I almost unzipped my trousers when I realized what she wanted. I didn’t even have a condom with me, having not used one in a year or more. I had a pregnant wife at home waiting for me. She’d welcomed me in fucking her from behind just before I dressed for the party. Pregnancy had done nothing to put a damper on her libido. And here I was with my fingers in the wet pussy of an older woman I’d just met, contemplating fucking her.
I pushed away, managing to get my fingers out of her box and her feet on the ground.
“No. No. I didn’t audition for this part and I’m not going to take the role. I’m sure there are single guys at the party who can give you what you want. Not me.” She slapped me.
“You had your fingers in my vagina and now you aren’t going to follow through? Fuck you!” She spun away from me, pulling her dress down where it belonged and marched back into the party as if I’d assaulted her. I slipped out the front door and didn’t wait to find out what kind of fuss she raised.
I stopped off at a bar and ordered a glass of bourbon which I downed in one swallow. In the bathroom, I washed my hands and face, even rinsing my mouth out. I checked my suit and shirt to make sure there was no makeup on them. I heaved a big sigh as I stared at myself in the mirror trying to figure out what kind of man I was. The red mark on my face reminded me. I’d been passionately kissed and propositioned by two women that night and I chose to go home.
Of course, I never told my wife about that.
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