A Fog of Innocence in Her Text

by FourHours

What do I do?

The night before I leave for an out of town trip we meet up with a buddy before heading to a bar for drinks. They hug when he arrives. They always hug. She likes it. She likes him.

They always hug, long and deep hugs in which he almost always reaches down and playfully starts his hug around her waist. He lifts her up so her feet come completely off the ground by about a foot. She is suspended there with her waist above his and her shoulders easily above his and him almost face to face with her breasts. She giggles and wraps her arms locked around his neck.

He captures the opportunity for a complete, full contact hug as she eagerly allows herself to be held there by him. Sometimes he twists himself back and forth playfully swinging her body lightly from side to side as she slides downward. I notice her breasts pressed and sliding across his upper chest. It seems so friendly, somewhat harmless as he treasures her there held securely with the tips of her toes helpless to touch the ground.

I look away as proof to the two of them that I am not troubled by their very personal contact. But I do sometimes feel a little awkward, even conflicted, fully watching. I want to see her feeling happy and having fun, yet it seems, at least to me, to be a somewhat obvious and relatively bold display of the personal and physical attraction they have for each other. I don’t know if they want me to see and yet they don’t seem to care. So occasionally I risk being caught watching it all. Mostly though, I turn away from watching directly to avoid feeling too uneasy. Besides, they do deserve at least the tiniest amount privacy. In spite of all this, I never turn so far I can’t see and watch, catching glimpses out of the corner of my eye. My mind’s eye impatiently fills in the rest. It’s no matter; it seems I’m just invisible to them anyway.

After a moment, he slowly and gently lowers my wife as he leans back I guess so she doesn’t just bounce to the floor. I notice again she is in full contact of his chest, stomach and waist as she slides down his body and her tiptoes just touch the ground. After being swung about, she has ended up with her legs slightly parted and on both sides of his leg. I see her chest and stomach pressed to him and her pelvis crushed against his leg still just ever so slightly still suspended there. After what seems like minutes, he allows her release from their close clinging moment. She gives him a simple but very close hug ending with her giving him a very friendly, soft and warm kiss. They always kiss.

At the bar, we all talk, they flirt and we all have a great time as I join in on their conversation and watch. After two hours, several beers for me and my buddy, and she with her four glasses of wine, we are a bit buzzed and ready to leave. On the way out the door, I off handily suggest he take her to dinner the next night while I’m out of town to keep her company and have some fun. He grins a bit and says nothing. Then again, without thinking, I share my suggestion with her as we have now made our way to out the door to the sidewalk and in front of the large window of the bar. Upon hearing my idea she chimes in, “Oh yeah, that would be great. We will have some fun.” With a flirting smile, she slowly walks toward him, opens her arms, taking control, offering him another hug opportunity. He takes it.

He picks her up again and this time she seems suspended in the air for moments on end, swaying back and forth in his arms. As he allows her tiptoes to touch the ground I see her legs have parted again and she is completely pressed tightly against him. But this time it’s different. She seems to be pushing herself against him. She kisses him again and it lingers a second or two longer than usual and then we are all off for our separate homes.

The next evening I’m on the road at 8 p.m. We talk on phone and she asks about him coming to our home “while you’re gone, just to keep each other company over a few drinks and pizza and have some fun.” I wonder why she decided not to go out. I tell her to call and make her arrangement with him and go ahead and have some fun.

She: 8:30 p.m.: I don’t have his number.

I have given it to her many times and I know it is easy to find in my computer contacts. I am confused by the odd phone call and text. I guess she just wants my complete permission and approval again and is reminding me again that I did suggest they should be together tonight.

Me: 8:34 p.m.: Sent the contact info by email from my phone.
She: 8:35 p.m.: Thx

Then I hear nothing from her for hours. She almost always goes to bed early about 10:30 p.m. every night even when we have friends over. Even when he is there. When I’m out of town sometimes earlier. We always talk at night when I’m gone to catch up. She usually makes the call. But tonight, nothing. I decide not to call because she is almost always in bed when I call this late. So I risk a text just in case she is asleep.

Me: 11:30 p.m. Hey you… How’s it going.

I get no text or phone call for almost an hour or so. I stop thinking about my text and assume she is asleep. Finally I notice at 1:06 a.m. that she has sent a text about 20 minutes earlier.

She: 12:47 p.m. Good. He just left. Watched snl.

But that show is over at 11:30 p.m. I am amazed she is still up this late. The math races through my head. She texts me around 8:30, I text back, she calls him and I guess he gets there at 9 and she texts me almost four hours later. Plus I wonder about the hour and seventeen minutes after the show ended. So I venture an innocent enough, but curious enough text. I’m so anxious to know more but afraid to come right out with it.

Me: 1:09 a.m.: Have some

It’s at that point that I accidentally hit send. I sit there stunned at my fumbling fingers and what I had just texted to her. I worried what she must be thinking and what I meant by those words. I could not believe I made this mistake. My fingers tremble as I try to decide what to do. After a couple of minutes, shocked and worried I had waited too long to follow up, I added a finish to my message hoping to cover for my error. I decided since she had not yet responded, she must be waiting to see what I would say next.

Me: 1:11 a.m.: Oops... fun?
She: 1:15 a.m.: I did. Heading for bed. Early day tomorrow.

So there it was. “I did.” Not a simple yes but “I did” and she took four minutes to say it as if hesitant to present her passive, yet artfully aggressive, long distance admission. But she did and wanted me to know she did. I still wanted to know more. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hear anything in her voice that further reinforced what I suspected was clearly the meaning of “I did.” I hurried another text still trying to ask innocently for more information.

Me: 1:16 a.m.: Sorry I didn’t see u txt back. Want me to call?
She: 1:17 a.m.: No. Going to sleep. Call u tomorrow.

It was clear to me now. Whatever had happened was none of my business other than to send her message with clear and torturous implications. I could see it all, from the big hug to his eventual full conquest of my willing and flirting wife. I know her. She’s clever, yet perfectly pliable. More likely, she had carefully positioned her arrangement precisely knowing she would fall prey to his conquest, accept his physical offerings and played it out for herself, and for him, and now for me as if I was standing right there able to half watch it all happen. Finally, it is the possible and undoubtable likelihood he is still there that weights my mind. It is perfectly clear to me now.

For the next few hours I try to sleep and I eventually do sleep about four hours later after reading and rereading the text messages over and over again still deeply convinced and yet exhausted and intoxicated with conflict, wonder and doubt.

The next day, she does not call. She sends a few text messages to keep me up on what is happening during the day. But that’s all. We always talk when I’m driving home.

I get home at about 10:30 p.m. that night. I come in I get a nice little kiss and hug. I start chatting about my trip and begin to talk about her “fun” evening, without noting the lateness of it all or that he was there for almost four hours. She interrupts me and says she’s really exhausted and is going to bed. After several days she hasn’t mention neither his visit nor what happened in the four hours they spent together. But I am still rapt around it.

What do I do?


Become a writer.
You know it started all so good. Then you mentioned it was your wife.
You’ve got her into this position, just allowing her too much. I guess there is not much you can do.
She is in love with someone else.

That means time to move on.
Discuss it with her and make arrangements. Sooner, better.

You should get a screen play writing software and you know what from there…

A woman will eventually show up in your life. Better one than you can imagine.
That’s just a guess but a very likely one.

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