Why?
Shouldn’t I be upset? A violation of sorts had occurred. Another man had seen my wife nearly naked. According to all the more popular notions about marriage that was my privilege alone.
More importantly, how did Susan feel about the whole situation? On the surface, she didn’t seem too bothered, which bothered me. Though honestly, I also found this situation erotic, but in an unfashionable way.
“Susan, when you noticed you weren’t wearing anything, and by that I mean your clothes, why didn’t you put on your robe?”
“I didn’t realize I wasn’t wearing my robe until after he left. It was quite a shock when I did. I had to call Marci.”
“It was a shock?”
“Yeah.” She left it there. I thought it would have been a point upon which she would have naturally elaborated, but I was mistaken.
“You mean you were embarrassed, right?”
Susan stared into the yard to collect her thoughts. After a fat minute or two, she looked at me. She seemed both worried and cautious. I gave her a nudge:
“Well?” I said. “I asked you if you were embarrassed.”
“No, Ryan.” She hesitated a further moment before continuing. “It kind of got me excited.”
“What do you mean byexcited? Don’t you mean something else? Think about it. Isn’t ‘embarrassed’ the right word?”
“No. I mean excited, like hot. You know? Aroused?”
“You got aroused?”
“You know, Ryan, this is like pulling teeth getting you to understand… Yes. I got aroused. Thinking of Greg standing there looking at me in my underwear got me aroused. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth. We’re always honest with each other.”
“You got sexually aroused? For Greg?” I wasn’t sure if I was angry or getting more aroused myself. I felt very conflicted about the whole thing. I must have raised my voice a little as Susan was now frowning.
“Not for Greg, really…” she said. “I’m saying the ‘situation’ aroused me. I don’t know why, but it did. I sort of got caught in my underwear in public. You’ve had those dreams. We all have. They’re always a mix of panic and something else—eroticism? I don’t know for sure.”
I’d had those dreams. They usually involved high school and me standing at my locker in my tidy-whities. They did have conflicting, erotic energies about them. Imagining Susan in public in her underwear had the same mix of energy.
I couldn’t help but to grill Susan for more particulars as if each increment of detail was extremely necessary to dissect. I thought of Susan’s lingerie drawer. She owned a mix of practical and racy bras and panties. What was she wearing when I left that morning? I remembered—she was wearing a pretty light pink balconette bra and matching low-cut panties. Oh God, I thought. Those were my favorites! They were essentially see-thru.
Or maybe that was yesterday morning? I had no choice but to ask Susan to be specific on this point.
“What underwear were you wearing this morning?”
“How can that matter, Ryan? What I’m wearing now.”
“Show me,” I said this in the tone of a command. She smiled, seemingly enjoying the alpha side of my character.
She was still dressed from work. She unbuttoned her blouse and opened it wide enough to show me her bra. It was the pink balconette! I thought it was the most seductive one in her lingerie drawer. Its design lifted her up and out, like she was making an offering, or inviting you to caress them, or at a very minimum, admire them. That was for my private pleasure! Oh no! My only hope now was that she hadn’t worn the matching panties. After that thought crossed my mind, a conflicting hope negated it. I now hoped she had in fact been wearing the matching panties.
Why?
Susan stood, pulled up her skirt and revealed the matching pink panties. Its thin fabric revealed her other lovely smile, which showed beautifully through her light brown pubic hair. It meant Greg had enjoyed my wife at her most pre-nude intimate. This was bedroom attire intended for me alone!
Instead, Greg had gotten an eyeful in broad daylight during a neighborly chat involving numerous minutes at a minimum.
Susan fixed her skirt and sat. She left her blouse open and it was a lovely look. The mounds of her breasts above the low-cut bra were firm and dazzling in the way they quivered when she moved, a bit like Jello I thought. I was sure Greg had noticed.
Greg!
Susan seemed utterly calm now. I guessed any apprehension she may have felt before telling me was gone. Now that I had the physical aspects settled in my mind, meaning the exact underwear and general circumstances, I needed to revisit her arousal situation. Being seen in her underwear by our neighbor had excited her. We had to sort this out atom-by-atom. Any man would agree.
“Susan, when you say it excited you for Greg to see you that way, what are you really saying?”
“Oh Lord, how is that not clear to you? When you’re aroused you want to do something about it, don’t you?”
“You’re telling me you wanted to sleep with Greg?”
“No, Ryan, but it put me in the mood to make love. I didn’t say I wanted to with Greg.”
“Well, you have to admit you weren’t clear.”
“Okay.”
“Susan, let me ask this. If Greg had responded to you this morning—I mean, who the hell knows what he was thinking?—what would you have done?”
Susan thought about it. “I had to get to work, Ryan. I couldn’t have done anything. Today we had our performance reviews.”
That certainly sounded evasive to me. I was sure any jury would agree.
“Forget that you had to work! Let’s say you didn’t have to be anywhere. Greg makes a pass, you realize why, meaning because you’re standing there in your underwear, and it excites you. What then?”
“I wouldn’t have made love to him,” she said. “That’s
