Things I Never Told My Wife
True confessions of a Shakespearean actor
Chapter 20
I WAS PRETTY PLEASED with the filming of Henry IV. I didn’t figure it would gain me an Oscar nomination but it was my first leading role in a major motion picture. That was award enough for me. I would return to LA over spring break to film any pickup shots Kenneth felt were needed. I thought by then I’d feel confident enough to start flying again.
Returning to Seattle, I went directly into production of Othello. Auditions were the week we returned and I had a dilemma. Both Iago and Desdemona interact heavily with Othello and to a slightly lesser degree, Cassio. James Hart was a powerful actor and I needed students who could hold their own on stage with him. We did initial reads on Tuesday and Wednesday and on Thursday, I held callbacks for those three roles, introducing them to James for the first time. It was quickly obvious to me that I would need an actress who could not only hold her own on stage with the powerful actor, but off stage as well.
James was no lothario, but I could tell after one night of auditions with him that any one of my women would bed him given the opportunity. It was a problem I never had with Aldo playing Lear. He was past seventy and was a very fatherly figure. James was forty, just a couple of years older than me. Young women would fall for him easily.
I had two strong choices for Iago. Each would bring a different interpretation to the role. One of the actors had a ringing basso voice that rumbled when he spoke. He would make the role into a real battle with Othello in which he was a master game-player manipulating the pieces on the board as he saw fit. The other was tall and thin with a higher voice. Choosing him would make him into a conniving weasel, sneaking around among the other players and wreaking havoc on the players rather than controlling them.
For Desdemona, I had a choice of three fine actors. I’d had a fourth, but she was a freshman and I just didn’t feel she could hold up under the pressures of this role. Once again, I had a choice of how this would play out between the two lovers. There was the completely overwhelmed and somewhat sniveling approach to the character that drives her slowly mad, not understanding anything that is going on. The second was a strong woman who would stand up against Othello’s accusations and perhaps even realize she’d been set up before she dies. The third would be a shrew who people would be happy to see die.
It’s funny how the same role and the same script can be interpreted in different ways. I talked to James about it after I’d dismissed the other actors.
“What do you think, James?”
“You’ve some fine actors at this school to choose from. I was afraid I’d have to tone my performance down so as not to overwhelm them all. Tonight, I saw some real talent,” he said.
“Anyone particularly resonate with you?”
“It will be your decision how to interpret the roles, Terry. I’ve seen enough of your shows the past two years to recognize you have unique interpretations. I’d personally go with the little blonde for Desdemona, simply for the contrast but that might be too much for your interpretation. She’ll also need to work well with your Emilia. Don’t know who you have in mind for her, but she should match the treachery of Iago. Personally, I think the husband and wife are in on it together.”
“That last assessment, I agree with wholly. Any thoughts on the candidates for Iago?”
“Travis,” Reese broke into the conversation. I looked at my assistant director.
“Why do you think that?”
“It’s pretty obvious you’ve already got Linda in mind for Emilia and she’d overwhelm Jordan as Iago. Travis would best fit the bill for the colluding couple you’re suggesting. And I think Travis won’t slip into the shadows when playing against James,” Reese said.
“Is he the guy with the deep voice?” James asked.
“Yes.”
“Terry, you’ve got a hell of an AD.”
“I agree. Thanks, James. I’m going to work through the balance of the cast and get it posted tomorrow morning. I’ll send you a list and appreciate you making time for the initial readthroughs next week. You have the rest of the rehearsal schedule.”
“You’re welcome. Reese? Care to get a cup of coffee while the genius does his work?” James asked. Yes, he had nothing against fraternizing with the college girls.
“Thanks, James,” Reese answered brightly. “But the coffee I need to be concerned with is what I get for this guy. I need to be available while he bounces ideas around and then I need to get the cast list ready to post.”
James nodded and muttered beneath his breath, “Helluva good AD.”
Reese and I moved to the more comfortable chairs in my office and started on the deliberations over each role. There are fourteen named roles plus various senators, merchants, officers, messengers, and such. I hadn’t realized I’d been so obvious in my inclination to cast Linda as Emilia, but Reese had picked up on it right away. I decided to challenge her after we had discussed the various merits and interpretations of the players.
“Okay. I’m ready to make some decisions.”
“Great! Who do you think?”
“No deal. I’m not going to tell you yet. I want you to make your own cast list. You’ve had some good insights. Now put your cast together and we’ll see how it compares to mine.” She didn’t hesitate, turning to her clipboard and writing.
I was ready as well. Of course, there was always some scratching things out and rewriting them. I changed my mind three times on Bianca, the third major woman’s part. I finally tossed my pen down and turned to Reese.
“Okay, Miss Assistant Director. Who is your cast?”
“Othello, James Hart.”
“Yes, of course. That decision was made last year.”
“I almost put him in as Iago just to bust things up,” Reese laughed. Hmm. That would probably work but would turn the play into a contrary statement. “Anyway, Iago, Travis Lee. Cassio, Warren Davis.” She went on with the males in the cast and I checked them off my list. We’d hit the same conclusions on all men’s roles.
“Now the women.”
“Desdemona, Rachel Ward. Emelia, Linda Whitaker. Bianca, Barbara LaSalle.”
“Hmm. Don’t you have Rachel and Barbara switched?” It was the first casting choice we’d disagreed on.
“No. No matter what James said about liking the little blonde, she won’t match up with him. She’ll disappear on stage and be nothing more than a sexual conquest for James. She might end up that anyway. The girl really doesn’t have that much sense. Rachel will give power to the role and will reduce the race issue. She’s not black, but she’s darkly tanned. She’s a Mediterranean girl. Far more likely to sneak out on her father and marry Othello.”
“Okay. I’ll think about that. Type up the rest of the cast list while I take a walk.”
When casting a show, I often exercised to clear my mind. It was nearly midnight and The Box, where we’d held auditions, was dark and empty. I centered myself and began the stretches and movements I taught my classes. When I’d gotten through them, I returned to the office.
Reese was waiting patiently, drowsing over a text book.
“Okay. I’ll go with your logic. Put Rachel in as Desdemona and Barbara as Bianca,” I said. She handed me the cast list, already typed up. I scowled at her. She shrugged and handed me an alternate version with the roles reversed. She’d have handed me whichever was my decision. I shook my head and tore up the alternate. “Post it. I’m ready to go home.”
Othello got great reviews and ran two more nights in the second week than we normally run a show with Tuesday and Wednesday performances. James did end up sleeping with ‘the little blonde’ but I investigated and found out she’d initiated it. Reese went directly from being my AD to a good role in Into the Woods by Sondheim. I had one more fast trip to LA for some post-recording right after school let out and then settled in to direct Macbeth at the Rainier Youth Theatre.
You might figure Macbeth is a heavy show to foist off on kids, but the way I saw it, all the major characters are adolescents. And I had my own ideas on modernizing the show by turning it into a modern gang war. I was pleased with the allusions to drug use as I had Macbeth sitting in a darkened room stoned out of his mind watching a vision of dancing kings in the witch’s prophecy. But the star of the show was definitely Lady Macbeth. I had an incredibly talented young actress named Cali Marx who made the transition from scheming wife of Macbeth to the shell-shocked waif wandering the streets crying ‘Out damn’d spot!’ That girl was going places. If there was any way I could help her there, I would do my damnedest.
And the morning after the show closed, my family and I were in the air to Ohio. We celebrated Shelly’s seventh birthday with her grandparents and on Saturday night went to a hotel on the outskirts of Van Wert for my twentieth year high school class reunion. That’s where I found out the girl who had taught me to kiss had also borne my son. I was thankful Jan was there to raise him. What a terrible father I would have been right out of high school! I wasn’t that great a dad even twenty years later.
We headed to New York next to watch The Lion King and give the kids their first Broadway experience. I was sure that one day soon I would tire of hearing the two kids singing “Hakuna Matata,” but for then it was pretty cute.
We flew on down to Six Flags for a couple of days and by the time we boarded for Seattle in Memphis, the kids were so exhausted even the sugar energy had deserted them. They were both asleep on the plane before wheels up.
We got back just in time for freshman orientation and to get the kids both started in school. Daphne was spending her first year as a substitute teacher so she started sitting by her phone each morning to hear if she had a job that day. But the real surprise was waiting for me once classes started.
“Terry, I’ve got your coffee,” called Linda as she rushed down the hall toward me. I turned to greet the bouncing ball of dynamite. She’d done a terrific job as Emilia in Othello last spring and I was happy to welcome her as my TA this year. I accepted the cup and turned toward my office.
“My door’s open,” I said. I rushed forward to make sure everything was undisturbed.
“I let Ms. Harris in before I went to get coffee,” Linda said as she hurried after me.
“Ms…?” I turned to enter my office and saw my friend sitting at the desk normally occupied by my TA. “Abigail?”
“Terry! Or do you go by Professor Reichert here? Oh, thank you, Linda.” My TA handed a cup of coffee to Abby.
“Isn’t it cool, Terry?” Linda asked. “Ms. Harris is teaching two of the classes Jon would normally teach. I’m covering both of you as TA since she’s not going to be here enough to have a TA devoted to her. I figured it would be easiest to just have her share my desk when she needed to come in. I was sure you wouldn’t mind. I’m going to introduce her to her first class this morning instead of you, but I’ll be with you the rest of the time for warmups before class. Is that okay?”
“Yes, Linda. Definitely. Abby, welcome to PCAD. I had no idea. Which classes are you covering?”
“Contemporary dramatic literature and advanced acting. I guess the students I get for that class will already have been through yours,” Abby laughed. “I’ll find out just how good a teacher you are.”
“Well, Linda here is one of my prized students. You should have seen her in Othello last spring.”
“Oh, I did. Didn’t you know? Daphne said you’d be so up to your ears in the production you wouldn’t even know the three of us were there.”
“Three?”
“Oh, yes. Roberta joined us.”
“Ah. Great. Linda, when can we meet to get started on scheduling and getting scripts?”
“Right after this class, Terry. I’m all yours.”
“Okay. Better get Abigail to her class then and I’ll head to The Box.”
Abigail may have had a light schedule, but I did not. In addition to the four classes I taught, I was directing the fall show and preparing the late spring production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I’d gotten rights to do Arcadia by Tom Stoppard this fall and would go into auditions for the fourteen characters on Wednesday. It was a pretty well-balanced cast in terms of men and women and even though it was a larger cast than we usually use in the fall, I was pretty confident that we’d pull it off with the additional month of rehearsals we would have by not opening until after Thanksgiving. We’d be on the SCU campus stage for this show.
It had several implications. First, I was working long hours with four classes and rehearsals from day one of the term and it wouldn’t lighten up significantly in the second term. I was more or less in charge of the department in Jon’s absence. Dan wanted nothing to do with administrative work and was focused on his planned spring production of West Side Story at the Rep. He was strictly a musical theatre person.
Second, it would affect Linda’s work somewhat. My TA usually functioned as my assistant director. It wasn’t fair, though, to keep a talented actress from any opportunity to audition. I’d given her the option and she chose to AD Arcadia so she could audition for Dream. I didn’t blame her a bit. But I hadn’t found an assistant for the Shakespeare yet and with a cast that size, I needed someone soon.
“Did you know Abby is teaching two classes at PCAD this fall?” I asked Daphne after I’d kissed the sleeping babies. Babies. First and second grade. And I wouldn’t even be home at night in time to kiss them goodnight before bed.
“Of course I did. Don’t tell me you didn’t know!”
“Apparently, it’s an arrangement Jon made last spring. I had no idea until I found her sitting in my office this morning.”
“Is she sharing with you?”
“I guess so. She won’t be around much because she’s only teaching two classes and has responsibilities at the Rep. She’s sharing a desk with my TA, Linda.”
“Well, ask her to dinner this Saturday. I haven’t seen her for weeks.”
“Oh. Sure.”
I couldn’t believe Daphne and Abigail had become so close that she minded not seeing her. In fact, how much of that was from Daphne’s side and how much from Abigail’s? I certainly remembered Abby’s tastes ran toward women.
Of course, everything that can go wrong will go wrong. It hit me during rehearsals for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I try to blame it on Daphne for bringing the bug home with her from school, but it was probably just because I’d failed to get a flu shot. Regardless, Ronnie, my assistant director, had to take over a week of rehearsals—almost unheard of for a college theatre. And Linda stepped in to continue my stage movement and audition classes but didn’t feel confident to teach intro to acting or stage combat. There are no substitute teachers for college professors, so those classes were simply dismissed.
And I stayed in bed.
Daphne and the kids stayed isolated. They came into the bedroom in their surgical masks to say good morning and goodnight. Daphne had started an end-of-term substitution for a teacher who went out on maternity leave six weeks before school was out. I lay in bed and suffered.
Although not completely alone. Roberta brought me medicine, soup, and books when I could read them. She was a treasure and made sure I had everything I needed. More than I needed. I realized that as the week wore on, Roberta wore less. She brought me lunch on Thursday and declared she didn’t think I was contagious any longer. To prove her point, she ducked under the covers and vacuumed my cock into her mouth. It had been long enough since I last had sex and I was feeling just strong enough to enjoy it that I let her proceed without even thinking about it. She was twenty-five years old and if not the prettiest thing I’d ever seen, still was easy on the eyes. Especially, when she stripped off what clothes she was wearing and crawled on top of me.
“This is my special cure,” she whispered. “You’ll be healthy in no time.” She sank onto the erection she’d coaxed me to and I let my cock do the rest of my thinking for me. It was so good to blast up into her fiery furnace.
Friday, I got up and started moving around, intending to be strong enough to return to work on Monday. Roberta pushed me back into bed when she got home from taking the kids to school and rode me like a racehorse. Twice. After which, we stripped the bed in the name of having clean disease-free sheets and I welcomed Daphne and the kids home after school.
It was strange that Roberta and I had scarcely said a word to each other during the entire episode and everything returned to normal over the weekend. I got back to school and rehearsals on Monday. I may have been moving a little slower than usual, but the hours were just as long. I continued to wear a surgical mask for another week to make sure I didn’t pass the bug on to anyone else.
Abby had only been my office mate for one term as she was in rehearsals for Six Degrees of Separation by Thanksgiving, preparing for a January opening. I’d scarcely seen her all spring, though Daphne said they’d managed coffee one morning on a teacher prep day. She couldn’t attend any of the performances of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but both the cast and I were delighted when she showed up at our house for the closing night cast party. Abby and Daphne were sitting in a corner with a drink when I happened to catch a glimpse of Roberta watching them from the kitchen doorway. I suppose she could have been watching any of the kids who were at the party, but I was sure it was Daphne the murderous look was directed at.
“He what?” I heard Daphne scream Sunday morning just as I was getting out of bed. It had been a late party and I was surprised she was up before me. I grabbed my robe and headed for the kitchen. “You stupid cow!” Daphne screamed. I entered the kitchen to see Roberta cowering at the table while Daphne paced the kitchen floor.
Uh-oh. I knew what this meant. Roberta had told Daphne about our dalliance. I couldn’t even call it an affair as it had only been twice while I was home sick. But it was a clear violation of the code of never hearing about my affairs. Daphne spotted me and pushed me into a seat at the table before I could say anything. The look on her face told me to keep my mouth shut as Daphne poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of me, only spilling a little with the force of it hitting the table.
“This stupid cow claims you raped her and got her pregnant,” Daphne scolded. She held her hand up to me again before I could say anything. “Let me tell you something, Roberta. You might have been able to seduce Terry and get laid but he would never in a thousand years rape you. Any doubt I had about that, you destroyed when you claimed he got you pregnant. Terry got snipped before Bill was born and I personally accompanied him to the doctor to verify that the operation was a success and that he had no sperm in his semen. I’ll even go so far as to prove it by getting him tested again. You went out and got pregnant and then tried to force your way into our family by declaring it was Terry’s. God damn it, Roberta. I’d have invited you to join us sometime this summer! What made you think you needed that kind of deceit? Haven’t I loved you enough for the past three years?”
I was in shock. Roberta was crying. Daphne collapsed in a chair and just hung her head.
I was stuck back on Daphne’s declaration that she would have invited Roberta to join us this summer. And she’d been loving Roberta for three years? Not ‘in love with’ but ‘loving.’ I could only think of one thing that meant. I got up, warmed up my cup of coffee and went to my home office.
“She’s leaving. It will be hard on Bill. He and Jack are almost like brothers.” Daphne was curled in a ball on our bed when I found her. This wasn’t only going to be hard on Bill.
“Daphne, I…”
“Don’t, Terry. Just answer one question. Did you rape her?”
“No. You know very well I’d never do anything like that.”
“That’s all I need to hear, Terry. I’ve been fucking her for three years. I figured at least when we moved in here that you’d manage to dip your wick eventually. I was prepared to encourage it. I nudged you that way when I told you to marry her if anything happened to me. I’d have been fine if you were fucking her. But to accuse you of rape and make up a story about getting pregnant… I can’t have her in our house anymore. That’s just too damned much.”
I pulled her into my arms and she sobbed against my shoulder. My poor Daphne.
I felt bad about Roberta. I transferred the title of the Toyota to her and made sure her health and auto insurance were paid for a year. I set up a small college fund for Jack. Of course, I never told my wife about that.
That summer, I directed All’s Well That Ends Well at Rainier Youth Theatre. I’d chosen Twelfth Night for next season at PCAD. Jon would be back and my workload would lessen. I didn’t think I’d take on any extra projects this year unless June called me with something I couldn’t resist. I needed to lighten up a little and spend more time with my family.
I don’t know if it was just me getting older or if it was the profound changes in the country that had occurred since 9/11. I turned forty in September and had just figured out that I really wasn’t worth a damn up to now. I just couldn’t get as excited about pretty young college girls any longer. Oh, there was still an occasional fantasy when my new TA, Rita, started. She didn’t bother with fancy skirts and makeup. She came to school in shorts and a sports bra. Every day. Some days the shorts were skin tight and others they were just gym shorts. On those days, I often got a glimpse of what was up the leg hole. Her one concession to cold weather was wearing leg warmers. That really just enhanced the look. She flirted through the technique of being obvious she was not flirting. She was one of the best I’d ever seen at it. But even though that fantasy gave me a couple of good jerk-off sessions, I really didn’t want the entanglement of a relationship with her. Of any kind. If Roberta had taken a different tack, she’d have had me nailed. I wasn’t going to risk that again. Daphne, William, and Michelle were just too important.
“So, what are you doing to change around Twelfth Night?” Abby asked as we sat at Sunday brunch. I was going into auditions the next night. And brunch with Abby had become almost a weekly thing. I had to admit that not having Roberta and Jack in the house had certainly quieted the house.
“Mmm. Twins,” I said.
“The play is about Twins. How is that a change up?”
“How many times have you seen it performed by twins?” I asked.
“Really? You have a boy and a girl twin set in your school? Do they look a lot alike?”
“Actually, they are identical twins.”
“Boy and girl aren’t… Oh, my God! Boys or girls?” Abby asked. Daphne started grinning.
“You know our Terry,” she said. “It must be girls.”
“Yes, it’s girls. They are pretty tall, and I think they’ve been auditioning all semester. They’ve made a big deal about having their hair exactly the same and wearing matching clothes. The only thing markedly different about them is one is left-handed and one is right-handed.”
“That’s unusual,” Daphne said.
“I asked them about it when I had them in stage movement a couple of years ago. They said that the only way they could learn to write while holding hands was if one wrote left-handed and the other wrote right-handed. They are like mirror images. I plan to capitalize on that if I can. I might even part their hair on opposite sides if I can make it happen. I wonder how long it will take the audience to figure out that it’s not the same person playing both roles.”
“What are their names?” Abby asked. I could tell she was thinking of something.
“Lorraine and Leann Donovan.”
“So, in the program you can list them both as ‘L. Donovan.’ It’s perfect!”
I looked at Daphne, who had a big smile on her face. “Mom,” I said, “she followed me home from school. Can I keep her?”
“Oh yes, Terry. I think that’s a very good idea,” Daphne laughed. “Having a pet will teach you responsibility.”
I wondered how long I could keep mounting successful Shakespeare productions. We were back at the ACT who had remodeled their theater to make it arena seating instead of a thrust stage. It required some clever scenery and intricate blocking to make the show work, but the kids were up to it and the critics loved it. They didn’t give up the surprise, either. The twins never appear on stage at the same time until the last scene of the play. The audience on closing night was so overwhelmed that when Sebastian appeared with Viola, there was a roar through the theatre as people stood, stomped, and applauded. They’d been so sure the same person was playing both roles that the reveal was shocking.
Abby had attended the Tuesday night performance but was in production herself during all the others. Nonetheless, she arrived for the after party at our house. She was greeted by just about everyone who knew her from her one semester teaching at PCAD or from seeing her in Six Degrees. Abby gathered Lorraine and Leann into her arms as soon as she saw them.
“I wish you had been in my class last year. I feel I lost a wonderful opportunity. However did Terry decide which of you to cast in which role?”
“Oh, we switched show by show. One night I was Viola and she was Sebastian. The next night I was Sebastian.”
“What?” I yelled. “Are you serious?” I had no idea they’d been switching back and forth. They looked at me so innocently and smiled.
That summer I introduced the youth theatre to The Merry Wives of Windsor. They had fun with the comedy and it happened they had a very overweight girl struggling with her self image. After consulting with Tressa, the artistic director of the theatre, I cast the young woman as Falstaff. The girl took to the role like a fish to water and totally owned it. She thanked me over and over after the production and said she was going to continue in theatre.
My spring show at PCAD was Much Ado About Nothing. I had some good character actors and wanted another comedy under our belts before I returned to tragedy.
I guess there is something about spring shows that makes them all have an obstacle to overcome. Ours came in the form of high winds at the end of February. So high that power at PCAD and all our part of downtown was knocked out. We hung around for a while, but after several calls, Dr. Watts informed us that power wasn’t anticipated to come back on until late that night and all classes were canceled. We hung a note on the callboard canceling rehearsal that night and I dragged myself home. An unexpected early night would be a blessing.
It was only noon and the kids were still in school. Power on Queen Anne was just fine. I wasn’t sure if Daphne was teaching today or not. She hadn’t tried to get a full time teaching job, confessing at one point, “I hate children. Other people’s. I’m fine with my own.”
I headed back to the bedroom and figured I’d take a bit of a nap. That idea went out the window when I opened the bedroom door.
Daphne and Abigail were naked and rolling around in bed. I was transfixed. It was… inspiring. I stood staring until Abigail noticed me and called Daphne’s attention to me by pointing. My wife gasped and froze in place. Then she took a deep breath.
“Terry, you’ve got three options. Leave, watch, or join us. I think you know what I’d prefer.” She held out an arm to me, exposing both her and Abigail’s breasts. I walked into the room pulling my shirt off as I crossed to the bed.
“Anything for you, Darling,” I whispered as I kissed my wife. “That goes for you, too,” I said as I kissed Abby.
There was something overwhelmingly exciting about crawling into bed with my wife and my one-time (okay, a few times) lover. They were all about showing their excitement about me joining them. I was buried beneath their tits and pussies and before long one pussy was on my mouth and the other was settling onto my hard cock. I knew quite well which was which. While Daphne continued to have her labia waxed, Abby had long since had all her pubic hair lasered off. It was my wife’s tasty pussy on my mouth and I savored that flavor as much as I enjoyed sinking my cock into Abigail again. Both women had a good come before I was ready, so they switched places and I tasted the slightly saltier pussy of Abby. My wife’s familiar vagina slid down the length of my penis and I knew this one was going to be a short ride. I burst my nut like shooting off a cannon into Daphne. Abby drenched my face with her come and Daphne’s pussy spasmed so tightly it nearly cut off the flow of my orgasm.
“I’ve been thinking, honey,” Daphne said as she cuddled up to me after the opening night of Much Ado. I gave her my attention fully. We’d made love when we got home from the reception after opening night. The kids were at a friend’s house for the night.
“What is it, love?”
“I think we should invite Abby to move in with us.” Afternoon with Abby held between us had turned into an every Monday affair. Three so far, anyway. Abigail always came over for Sunday brunch and then stayed the night with us. One of us—usually me—would get the kids up and off to school on Monday morning, then get back in bed for some three-way loving. Usually, I’d find Daphne and Abigail were already way ahead of me by the time I joined them.
“Into Roberta’s place downstairs?” I asked. The mother-in-law apartment had remained empty since the departure of our nanny. I felt bad for Roberta. I’d figured out that she’d gone out drinking one night and ended up getting drunk and getting laid. The result was pregnancy. She thought she could get me to claim the child if she slept with me, but she’d missed the mark when she started in with the rape and then the pregnancy. If she’d just told us she was pregnant, we’d probably have made her and the new one part of the family. Too bad. But…
“If you think there is some need for proper appearances, sure. But I was thinking in here. With us. I’m pretty far in love with her, Terry. You must love her a little, don’t you?” How could I deny that?
“I guess so,” I said.
“I’ve always been a bit of a carpet muncher,” Daphne sighed. “Not that Abby has one. But if she moves in, it will give me a pussy to play with and you’d get two. That’s fair, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s fair if you’re sure this is what you want, Daph.”
“I just think we make the perfect threesome. Goodnight, Terry.”
“Goodnight, Daphne. I love you.”
“Mmmhmm.”
It wasn’t my first threesome with Abigail. I lay awake as Daphne drifted off to sleep. I silently wished a blessing on CeeCee with my thanks.
Of course, I never told my wife about that.
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