Overall, a thorough exploration of all our fantasies led us to a mildly surprising conclusion: I was somewhat dominate, and Susan was a little submissive. Nothing over the top. Every once in a while Susan would let her submissive side come out and play. To an outsider it would have seemed that I was the overbearing master and Susan was submitting to my wrath. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Susan was always in charge of our bondage play.
“I am sorry, master. I know you have to tie me to the bed for misbehaving. I’ll accept my punishment.”
“I shouldn’t have cried last time when you clamped my nipples, master. Please let me try again.”
“I know that I shouldn’t have cum without permission, sir. Please spank me so that I remember the rules. The paddle is so painful, though, please cuff my hands so that I can accept my punishment properly.”
Overall, it is safe to say that there is no sexual experiment that Susan and I didn’t try. If we both liked it we added to our permanent rotation of sexual activity, if we didn’t we talked about the reasons why and sent it packing to the box of past sexual memories. It may have been extreme for some couples but to us it felt like a natural extension of our trust in one another.
***
Amanda Skinner was an interesting woman. She looked like she would have been right at home somewhere in the woods, crouching quietly for days hoping to catch a glimpse of the mating habits of squirrels. But she had a Ph. D. in psychology and was a certified family therapist with 20 years experience. According to Maggie she was the best.
As much as I appreciated Maggie’s legal maneuvering, I also so knew she really wanted the counseling to work. She wanted me to be together with Susan. I didn’t understand her thinking, mostly because we had never spoken about it, but I knew it was true.
After the formal introductions, Mandy, the name she insisted that we use, took her place in an armchair directly across from the coffee table and opposite the large comfortable couch Susan and I were sitting on. It had a very homey feel, almost like coffee at a friend’s house. Not like a counseling session at all.
“OK, let’s get started by measuring the differences in our expectations. What do you hope to gain from our time together? Susan, you first.”
“Well, I want to be able to come back to my husband. I want him to find it in his heart to forgive me and let me come home. And I want him to stop the divorce.”
“Very good, Susan. David?”
“I want Susan to feel like she has been given every opportunity to change my mind so that she doesn’t feel like she left anything in the locker room. I want her to come to a place where she can accept what is going to happen. And I want to move on with my life.”
“Interesting choices, David. OK, what do each of you see as the biggest problem in your marriage? Susan?”
“I had sex with another man. I cheated on David. It’s all my fault.”
Susan sounded as if she was about to cry, but for some reason that didn’t bother me.
“OK. David?”
“Honesty.”
“OK. Thank you. I see no reason why we shouldn’t see how much progress we can make meeting together. It may be necessary to meet with you individually at some point, but I think that joint sessions will work just fine for now. Can we meet each week at this time?”
“This time works well for me, Mandy,” Susan stated.
“Whatever you say, Doc.”
I had already made my assessment of Dr. Skinner. She wasn’t really going to listen to me. She was paying close attention to Susan but it appeared she already knew everything she needed to know about me. Since my presence was not necessary I felt like forcing pleasantries for a voluntary counseling session was asking too much.
“I prefer, Mandy, or Dr. Skinner if you must, David.”
“Sure thing, Doc. See you next week.”
With that I was out the door.
To my face, everyone kept telling me that I was handling things so well. Behind my back, they were saying that I was moving on so quickly that I must be getting a little action on the side. In reality, no matter how much you try you can’t control the rumor mill.
But like so many nights recently, I was heading home to cry. I knew it and there is really no embarrassment in sharing it with you. Being in the same room with Susan was very difficult, mostly because I wanted to hug her and take her home with me. A little bit because I wanted to kill her and hide the body.
***
I may have gone insane if I didn’t have the kids.
They were very upset, but comforting them allowed me to remember the good things about Susan.
“Why can’t mom come home, Daddy?”
“She loves you so much, Daddy. She is always crying.”
Ever heard the phrase wrapped around her little finger? Well make it two little fingers in my case. Fingers attached to my beautiful twin daughters. Twins who had a striking resemblance to the woman who owned me heart
“What did she do, pop?”
And there you have it. My boy. Straight to the point. Well, he is his father’s son.
“That, young man, is something that will remain between your mother and I.”
“It had to be something bad, pop. Luke Finch said his father told him that his mom was a crazy b-i-t-c-h when she moved out of his house.”
“We know how to spell bitch, Mikey!! We are not stupid.” I heard in stereo. It always amazed me how much in sync they were.
“That is enough with the language, guys. Michael, if you ever hear a harsh word about your mother from someone, I can promise you it won’t be from me. And they better not say it if I am within listening distance.”