Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)

They didn't stop until Austin pulled into the driveway leading up to the house. He was so tired, he left Lexi's car there, and followed his mother and sister inside. He ended the evening passed out on the couch.

*

James woke up before the alarm. The day hadn't even started, but he was already apprehensive. His wife was passed out next to him. Snoring and drooling. She still had her dress on from the night before. She'd said she was going with Lexi to visit Austin at the restaurant and had come back at some ungodly hour, stinking of alcohol.

James was too asleep then, and too smart now, to ask his wife what had happened. No more secrets was fine in theory -- unflinchingly, brutal honesty was asking for another thing altogether. James got out of bed and took a shower. When he got out, Christine was still asleep. They were going to be late, so he shook her shoulder slightly.

The beautiful blonde woman groaned and rolled over. But she blinked her eyes open.

"How was last night?" James asked.

"Our son is awesome!" Christine said. Then she frowned, guiltily. "I may have had too much to drink." "That's OK."

"I may still be a little drunk now," Christine said.

"I'll let you explain it to Dr. Stevens," James said. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. He wasn't going to work, it was Saturday, so he wanted to stay casual. But he thought he should look good for their appointment. "Oh fuck!" Christine said. She popped out of bed. "How late are we?"

"Slow down," James said kindly, "We're fine."

Christine hurried to take a shower and get dressed. She put on a nice pair of jeans and a blouse. Not nearly as well-dressed as she was the night before to see Austin, James thought ruefully, but perfectly appropriate for what they were doing. They got into the SUV, the orgy-mobile as Molly had named it, and drove into town.

To her credit, Christine had immediately agreed when James said they ought to try seeing a couples' counselor. He'd thought he would get a huge argument from her -- for a doctor, Christine really hated to see the doctor. He'd steeled himself, then reinforced that with strong, rational arguments, and then presented the idea with an iron will.

But Christine had agreed right away. All that preparation for nothing. James was almost disappointed he didn't get to make his points.

"No, you're right, we need to do this," Christine had said.

"I love you so much and I don't want to see us..."

"I agree," Christine had said, "It's important. Just tell me when."

James had pulled a few strings and gotten them a meeting for that Saturday. They drove into town together. It felt weird to be in the car and not even thinking about pulling over for a blowjob.

"Before I forget, I spoke to my brother this morning," Christine said, breaking the semi-awkward silence.

"Oh?" James stayed focused on the road. "Is Jack good with the later date for the annual bi-family barbecue?"

"He'll make it work," Christine said, "The whole family will be there: Kelly and both the kids."

"It'll be good to see them again," James said. He turned the car and parked it in the garage. They both walked over to the office.

The waiting room was a small place, cozy, with pictures of cats on the walls and fake flowers in real vases. They were playing a smooth jazz radio station that seemed to have never gotten over the blazing talent that was Kenny G.

An older woman gave the couple some paperwork to fill out, then led them back to a small room that wasn't much different than the front: more cats, more flowers, though thankfully no Kenny G. James and Christine sat down on a leather couch. There was another chair facing them and, behind that, an office desk.

A few moments later, Dr. Stevens entered the room. She was a thin, older woman, with oval glasses and long, silver hair tied back in a ponytail. She had on a yellow sweater over a light pink blouse and a pair of tan slacks. She nodded at them and smiled warmly.

"So, why have you decided to come talk to me today?" Dr. Stevens asked as she sat down in the chair facing them. She had a little notebook in front of her, but she kept it closed and simply folded her arms in her lap.

"Well, we've been having some problems lately," James said. He and Christine had agreed beforehand on their story. They would talk honestly about their feelings and what was going on. But no 'details.' i. e., it was perfectly fine for James to say that he felt distant from Christine (which he did and which he said), but there was no need to say that he felt distant from Christine because she was fucking their son and he was doing their daughter. That went into a pile of 'need to know' information and Dr. Stevens didn't need to know.

Even with that caveat, though, James found it harder to talk about things than he'd thought. Especially with Christine sitting there watching him. Still he did his best to discuss where he thought the marriage was at.

Christine also spoke candidly, and James was impressed. She truly did want to work at this, he realized. He didn't know why he kept painting her as the bad guy. It wasn't fair.

After they were done talking, Dr. Stevens leaned back in her chair. "Well," she said, "I think this is a very strong start. You're good at sharing your feelings with each other and that's better than a lot of couples I see. I can tell there are some trouble areas and I'd like to work with you on that, both individually and as a couple.

"I can tell that you're both feeling removed from each other in some way. That you feel like the passion in your marriage has dwindled. That's natural. A long-married couple is a different relationship. It's easy to feel like you're in a rut. But there's also a level of intimacy that a young couple can never hope to accomplish. We can work to help you cherish that while still reigniting that passion you feel like you've lost. Let me ask you both a very direct question, how often are you having sex?"

James and Christine eyed each other. James felt a giggle burbling up his chest and he held it back. He saw Christine do the same.

"Well I can see by your response that the answer is you're not doing it at all," Dr. Stevens said, "Listen, if there's one thing I can recommend to you both, right at the beginning of this process before anything else, you should be having sex. You may not always be in the mood, but I recommend you try to have sex as frequently as possible. It's such a key part of the relationship. The more you can be intimate, the better." "Sex," Christine said.

"As much as possible," James said.

"Exactly," Dr. Stevens said. She nodded at them both and beamed.

"Well that was a complete fucking waste of time," Christine said as they walked back to the car.

"Seriously," James said, "More sex? Please, that's the least of our problems."

*

Austin got into work late. Driving from home instead of the apartment took longer than he'd anticipated. He missed only about ten minutes of prep, but it was enough. Everything was off rhythm, like the drums in a band playing a quarter-beat too fast. Austin simply couldn't keep up. He tried to ignore the glares of his co-workers as he stumbled through mistake after mistake.

First, he prepped the wrong order. Then he got the right one, but it was missing dressing. The one after that was over-dressed. And round and round he went.

It didn't help that the whole kitchen was having a bad day. No one could cook fish right, apparently, and Chef Paul was in a particularly foul mood. Twice, food got sent back from the dining room. At the end of the evening, they all seemed like a battle-worn platoon rather than a kitchen brigade.

Once everything was cleaned, Austin went out back for his smoke.

"God tonight sucked," he said as he puffed. Everyone except Chef Paul was back there: dishwashers, line cooks, even a couple of the servers. No one looked at Austin when he spoke.

"You would know," Ramon, one of the line cooks, said.

"You're right, I had a bad night," Austin said.

"A bad week, more like," Ramon said, "A bad month." Everyone else snickered.

"I'm trying my best," Austin said.

"Guys, cool down," Jane said. Boy, if his ex was defending him, things must really be bad. "It was one of those days."

"It's been 'one of those days' every day for your boy here," Ramon said.

"He's not 'my boy,"" Jane said.

"It's salad for fuck's sake. You're not even cooking that shit, man," Ramon said. The other cooks grumbled in agreement. James felt the anger rise in his chest. He backed it off. "That's fair," James said, though it burned him to do it, "I'm sorry, OK? I'll work to get better."

Ramon glared at him. He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his foot, looking Austin down. He started to walk back into the kitchen, past where Austin was standing. And when he got so close that Austin could smell his breath, he leaned right in.

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"Go fuck your mother," Ramon said.

"What?" Austin asked, shocked.

Ramon said it again, louder. "You heard me, bro. Go fuck your mother."

Austin didn't think rationally about what Ramon had said. He didn't take the time to consider that some random line cook would be totally oblivious to what was going on in Austin's personal life. He didn't reason through the very many ways that this man might simply say a string of nasty, angry words. Austin just got scared. Then he got angry.

Then Austin snapped.

They had to pull him off Ramon, both of them bruised and bloody. Austin didn't know where the last ten minutes had gone. Couldn't remember anything between those whispered words and the moment where his arms were pinned behind his back. His legs kicking in the air. No one needed to tell him what had happened, though. He could put it all together his own damned self. He limped back to his apartment; arms wrapped around his chest.

The next morning, he got the call. He knew what it was, but he held hope tight as he walked back to the restaurant. Stepped into Chef Paul's office. The older man eyed Austin with sympathy. For a moment, Austin believed he might get one last chance.

"Ramon's not going to press charges," Chef Paul said, "But I can't keep you on. You know that. I'm sorry."

Austin's heart fell, but he'd already expected it. Even he had to admit, there was simply too much stupid for Chef Paul to ignore. In the over-bright morning light, Austin knew that he'd overreacted. Hell, he kind of knew it in the moment. But Ramon's words had pushed Austin into such a dark place, he couldn't see right from wrong. There was nothing to do about it now.

Austin got his stuff from the restaurant and walked back to his apartment. On his way there, he realized that if he wasn't earning money, he couldn't stay at his place, either. It really was all over.

He walked up the steps and unlocked the door. It was still early morning and his roommates were getting ready for work. Austin walked straight back to his bedroom, gathered his stuff, and threw it into suitcases. Kind of like he had that day back at the campsite, not even caring where things went.

Up and down the steps, Austin loaded up his car as much as he could. Then he wrote his roommates a check for his share of the next month's rent and said goodbye. They shook hands. Austin drove off.

The emotions washed over him on the drive. Embarrassment. Guilt. Fear. He ran the argument with Ramon through his mind. He wondered if he could have argued Chef Paul into one last chance. But no. Austin knew it was over. There was a point, maybe a month ago, where he'd have blamed it all on other things. On his asshole coworkers. On his family for constantly interrupting him at work. On those damned pills that had taken over his life. But Austin couldn't make excuses anymore.

He'd made these choices. And as much as he hated where they'd taken him, he knew that they were his. Yet there was something else in it, as well.

Because, as he drove in damning silence, Austin realized he felt content. Happy. This wasn't a setback, but a chance to reorient his life. An opportunity to really, truly make things better. Why worry about what had happened when his future could be so bright? This wasn't a good result. But it wasn't a bad one either. The world was still full of wonderful possibilities, Austin could feel it in his heart.

After all, he was coming home.