Find a Way to My Heart

"Down, Brutus. Next time," she said, blowing him a kiss. He turned to me and held up his fist for a bump.

"I knew this was what you needed. Barb owes me fifty bucks!"

We all went downstairs, and since it was relatively warm outside, we grabbed beers and wandered out into the garden.

We found Rob, sitting outside by himself, a large glass of red wine in his hand, and a cigar lit. Mary squealed and hustled over to him, plonking herself down in his lap, and giving him a kiss.

"Hey hon. Have fun?" he drawled, in his low voice, clearly full of affection.

"For sure. He's a keeper. He's good!" she said, grinning at him, the light glistening in her eyes.

For about the fifth time that night, I had to check what a surreal moment it was. Someone else's wife, a woman I had just cum inside, and who was almost certain having my spunk drip down her inner thighs, was sitting on her husband's lap, telling him what a good lover I was, clearly delighted in it, and this guy had a pleased and amused expression on his face! Very definitely not your normal Friday Night, for sure.

"You have fun, too?" he inquired of me.

Well, this is a tricky one. What do you say to that? Too much enthusiasm would be desperate, but not enough would be insulting. This was his wife, after all.

"Very much so," I managed to get out. "I think I really needed that."

"Yes, I suspect you did. Well, we broke your swinger virginity tonight, for sure, if you were partying with this one," he indicated his wife, a broad smile on his face.

"I think that means we should celebrate a bit." He whispered in Mary's ear and she looked at him and said, "Sure thing, honey!" She bounced up and walked off into the house.

While she was gone, he reached out and offered me a cigar. "Go on, treat yourself." I looked and they were Cohiba Siglo II's, Ecuadorian Cohibas, but Cohibas none the less, so hell yeah.

"Thanks," I said, taking one and using his clippers to clip the end. "Very nice, thanks!"

He even had a little gas lighter for starting the cigar up. It was good, I blew a big cloud of blue smoke in to the air, relishing the taste. Auggie didn't like me smoking cigars very much, only on very special occasions, and only outside. So, was a cigar after sex the swinger version of a cigarette after sex??

Mary returned, clutching three whisky glass and a bottle of... no, that couldn't be... Johnny Walker Blue, could it? That retailed at one hundred and seventy bucks a bottle! This was getting out of hand. I'd come to party, had this guy's cigars, his wife, and now he was offering me some Johnny Walker Blue?? What did I get next, his car? Auggie had to be sniggering her ass off, wherever she was.

I just sat there, staring, as Mary poured us each a generous measure, handing me the glass and saying, "I hope you like it neat. We won't pollute a drink such as this with ice."

"Salut!" said Rob, holding up his glass. Still in shock, I leaned in and chinked my glass against his and Mary's, and then took a long sip. Wow. Smooth. Burns on the way down, as good scotch should. Not peaty, not a single malt guy here, I prefer my blends. Very, very good. Worth the money, if you've got it to spare.

I gestured at the cigar and said to Mary, "You don't mind, do you? I don't want to indulge if the smoke is too much."

"Oh goodness me no, I love it. Reminds me of my father," she encouraged. That was a strange thing about Mary I came to find - she never ever swore, unless she was in the act of sex. Then she could be extremely foul mouthed, but otherwise, it was always "Heavens above!" and phrases like that. It was quite endearing.

After that, I just sat there, rolling the drink around in the glass, taking a puff on the cigar and wondering at the events of the evening. How did I feel about them? Was I okay with all this? Rob was obviously watching me.

"So, how do you feel? I don't really know you very well, Jonas, but we've shared something pretty precious to me, this evening, so I want to know you better, yeah?"

Mary elbowed him in the ribs and said, "You'd better be talking about me, and not the whisky."

Rob laughed and said, "Of course, my dear!" in an exaggerated fashion, and Mary glared at him, then turned to me and smiled sweetly.

"You'll take me in if this oaf doesn't appreciate what he's got, right Jonas?"

That put me in an awkward position.

"Leave the man alone, you man-eating monster!" laughed Rob, even louder. He chuckled for a couple more seconds, before turning to me and asking, more seriously, "Seriously though, Jonas. How are you feeling? You've had a huge heartbreak, and I don't know much more about you than what Chuck and Barb have told me. They really love you, you know. We talked about the idea of inviting you, and where they thought you were at emotionally, and I'm sorry if that upsets you. We weren't talking about you behind your back or anything. They just wanted to know how they could reach you more. And since that's kind of Mary and my thing..."

I looked at him enquiringly.

"They told you we are professors, right?" asked Mary.

"Yeah, not much more than that, though," I answered.

"Right, well, the oaf here, and I, are professors of sociology and psychology, respectively. You can imagine why Chuck and Barb talked to us, yes?"

"Yeah, I get it," I said, feeling more mellow than perhaps I would have had this been sprung on me at any other time. Hard to be too mad at someone when you've just banged that dude's wife.

"They just wanted to know how to get through to you. To get you to, in their words, 'put the life back in your eyes'. Like I said, they really care."

"I guess they do," I said, wondering where this was going.

Rob looked at me shrewdly. "I'm guessing you are feeling a little like someone is sticking their nose in where it doesn't belong, right?"

There was no answer to that that wasn't either an outright lie, or a slippery slope to a confrontation, so I just shrugged.

"I know. Someone you barely met is inserting himself into your feelings, and you don't know him, so you aren't going to open up much. I wouldn't either."

He examined the brown liquid in his glass for a moment, then said, "So, on another subject... what's your thinking about these kinds of parties? Now you've had your cherry well and truly broken."

I considered my answer, and then decided on the truth. This was still an intense subject, but nowhere near as intense as my feelings on losing Auggie.

"Well, I don't honestly know what to think, really. I mean, I would never have done this if Auggie was still alive. The idea of another man having sex with her would never have flown. A bit hypocritical, give what I just did, I have to admit, but feelings are feelings, not always reasonable or logical."

"Yes, that's very true," agreed Rob. "Most people couldn't do what we do here, for sure. That's not because we are any kind of more evolved people or socially superior or cleverer, in any way. Just, we see things from a different point of view. I mean, not only is society built around the concept of monogamy, but men are hardwired for sexual jealousy. Women look for the best mate to provide children, since they are the ones who have them. While they are in competition with other women to some degree, it's nothing like the internal competition between men for the best mate. We, as a gender, are hardwired for jealousy and envy, because it spurs greater effort to spread our seed, so to speak. It's no wonder that the most successful cultures are ones that promote the concept of 'Once you've got her, she's yours', you know?"

I nodded. Made sense, when put that way.

"So, yeah, most men don't want to see their wives with others, or rather, there is a sub-culture where that happens, and it's fascinating where that comes from. It can come from several places, an inferiority complex, the desire for others to really see why you are superior, since they can 'sample the goods', so to speak, and then understand that you really won the race, and of course, the guys who subjugate their own wills for their spouses, to keep them happy. In fact..."

He was elbowed again by Mary.

"You're lecturing, dear," she said, simply.

"Oh yes. Sorry. Occupational hazard. Right, so yeah. Most couples shouldn't be doing this because their internal compasses and societal upbringing make this verboten. That's fine and society works along those lines. But... some can handle it. Some have a secure enough relationship that this kind of frolicking, isn't that a great word? Frolicking. I love using it. Right up there with Schnapps for fun to say words. Where was I? Oh yes, so yes, some people can do it. More power to them, I say. Share and share alike, and understand that it's all controlled and no one is leaving with anyone else."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I said, 'Well, yeah. I guess I'm one of those people. I couldn't see me being okay with Auggie playing like this."

"That's fair enough. If you had still been married, you'd never have been invited in the first place. The last thing we want to do is insert ourselves into anyone else's relationship without invitation and understanding on their part, yeah? It's not for most people, and that's fine, we aren't on any crusade to make other people enjoy thing kind of thing. But if someone is interested, and we judge that their relationship is strong enough to cope with it, then... we'll at least let them try. We are pretty ruthless about saying 'you aren't ready,' though, because, like I said, we aren't out to convert anyone."

He stopped and took another sip of the whisky.

"There's a lot of crap spoken about swingers, as though love is a zero-sum game. You'll hear people say things like 'if I am with someone else, then I can't be loving the other person as much', and that's just not true. If you are talking about time, then yes, that IS a zero-sum game; the time you spend with one person is taken from another, but in terms of affection, that's not true at all. You don't suddenly love one kid less if you have another one, right? Now, I'm not advocating a polyamorous situation here, that has its own set of issues, but in terms of spending a couple of hours chatting with someone else, and then having sex with them, well, provided everyone knows that it'll never be more than that, then for some, it's not quite as much of a big issue as it is for others. It's really as simple as that."

I thought for a second on that, and then said, "What about the situation where someone has great sex here, and wants a diet of that? You know, someone else has a huge dick or something, and hubby doesn't?"

"Well, that's always a danger, but then so is getting on a bus. At the end of the day, everything is a risk. If someone suddenly decides they are a size queen and hubby doesn't measure up, then I would wager that there's more wrong in that relationship to begin with. If dick size suddenly trumps everything else, and the opportunity here to have that thrill, danger free, isn't enough, then what does that say to you about that relationship?"

"Yes, that's a fair point," I said, "but equally, if you ride on busses all day, every day, you are increasing that risk. Going to parties like this, where there might be a huge dick available to provoke that kind of reaction, isn't that increasing risk, too?"

Rob laughed. "Ahhh, a man who can argue and present a view point! A man after my own heart. Yes, your point is valid. But I say again, if Mary here meets a guy with a ten-inch dick and then suddenly mine doesn't do it any more, what does that say about how she views me and our relationship, if that's the case? If her mind can be swayed in that way?"

"Perhaps. Seems a bit of wrong-headed risk to introduce though? To my mind," I persisted.

"Fair enough. That's why none of us at these parties have a ten-inch dick, though. In my experience, most of the men that that kind of appendage is attached to are prime assholes anyway, and not hard to see through."

Mary nodded, and then added, "And they hurt anyway. When someone with a too big dick bangs away and hits your cervix, it just hurts. A little girth though..." she stuck her tongue out at Rob.

"Well, yes, I'm sure. And a nice pair of C's... those are nice, too," he smiled back at her, nodding at her chest, which were A's, max.

She held up her drink. "Touché."

Turning back to me, he said, "I think one of the things that works is balance, and a longer view. It's very easy to come here and have an off night, and be all pissed off, particularly if your wife has partied twice with two people and is having the night of her life. The long view is, 'okay, tonight wasn't my night, but another night will be.' Another night, you may have two women who want to take you upstairs, while the wife is on the rag, or some such. As long as both are getting something out of it, then it can work. It takes the right people, and the right situation, and the right rules for those particular people, but it can work."

I shrugged, giving that facial expression of "Okay then." I wasn't sure his arguments were working on me; sure, they were logical, but equally, people are people, and emotions run high, and so does jealousy. On the other hand, I wasn't expected to share anything, no wife to share, and as such, it didn't affect me as much.

"It's important to understand, Jonas, I'm not trying to convert you here, I'm just trying to give you some background on the thinking more of the people here have. We aren't trying to come across as some high-minded group, who are ethically superior to everyone else; we are just a group who has found a way to move forward and in a very specific set of conditions be sexually less jealous than others are. And that's it."

"I get it. I do," I said, and I did. It was not something I'd ever really thought about before, but I did get the gist of what he was talking about.

"So, given that, given that no one here is trying to score points, or push anything on anyone, I was hoping you might be part of that spirit, sharing not only yourself, but perhaps a little of who you are, how you think? How you are feeling?"

This time, I was more prepared for the question, and I was ready to answer it in a little more detail.

"Well, I think this is the most alive I've felt in sometime," I said, meaning every word of it.

"I can well believe it. The loss you've suffered, and the manner of it, has to be horrific. I can't imagine how you've coped. I can't begin to understand the pain you've been through," he said, empathetically.

I nodded, and said, "It comes out in weird ways...."

Then it all came spilling out. The pillows. The phones. The clothes. The family pictures. Trying to keep the kids happy. All of it. In twenty minutes, I had tears in my eyes, and so did Rob and Mary. She sat there, silently weeping, and looking at me with such a concerned expression on her face.

At the end of it, Rob reached out and put his hand on mine.

"How do you feel right now?" he asked, simply, and with concern.

"Better, I guess. I dunno. It's so hard to feel anything these days."

He nodded sympathetically, and pulled back his hand.

"Jonas, do you know what Survivors Guilt is?"

I nodded cautiously. "Yeah, that's where if there are two people in an accident, and one survives, and the other doesn't, the survivor is haunted by the fact that they did, and the other person didn't, right? It's a way that the survivor feels like they should have been the one that died. Oh. Yeah."

"In a nutshell, yes. Mary, this is more your area?"

Mary nodded, and wiped her tears away with one hand.

"Yes. As you say, Rob, that's pretty much it. The thing is, it can affect in a lot more ways than the obvious one, as you described, Jonas. It can affect anyone who is 'left behind,' so to speak. And the effects, well, let's just say there are some strong correlation to what you've been describing. Honestly, you need to talk to someone. I really, really encourage that."

"Couldn't I just talk to you?" I started to say and Mary interrupted.

"Oh heavens no. Not me. I'm irreparably compromised. Besides, I'm a professor. I'm not a practicing therapist. I can recognize symptoms, but I cannot prescribe treatment. You need a professional for that. I'm thinking... Shelly Tremalane? Rob?"

"Yes, Shelly is great. Exactly what I was thinking, too. Would you be annoyed if I called her on your behalf, Jonas? Got her to call you and set up an appointment? Are we going too fast here?"

They were, but then I considered that my speed would be 'never,' so perhaps they weren't. I wasn't used to people I didn't know wanting to help like this. I was used to Chuck and Barb, and could hold them off easier than these people. Particularly given what Mary and I had just done. I would be churlish to say no.

That's what happened. I ended up seeing Shelly Tremalane, and she also identified my issue as survivors' guilt, mixed in with a lot of other, more normal reactions. My anger at Auggie's loss, and the manner in which it had happened, had been subjugated in an attempt to focus on the kids, and as a result, I just hadn't given myself time to grieve, or even known how. I don't know that I bought everything she had to say, but I did start to feel a lot better, and the kids noticed it, and so did Irv. In fact, everyone did, so whatever she had to say, or listen to, it worked.

Weirdly, I was invited back to another party by Rob and Mary directly; Chuck and Barb were really happy that I'd handled the night, and gotten something out of it, besides just unloading a load. If anything, we grew a lot closer, as friends.

It turned into a little tradition -- me sitting with Rob and Mary, out the back of wherever the party was being held, talking for an hour or so. Sometimes it was about me, sometimes about them, or maybe some recent big event, but we always did it, with a glass of something, and a cigar. I quickly took over the cigar duties, since it turned out I knew a lot more about those than he did, and I introduced him to some good stuff he really enjoyed. I also went out and bought a bottle of Glenmorangie Duthac, to compensate for the Johnny Walker Blue I had drunk of his. Not quite as expensive, but just as good, to my taste.

After that night, well, I started to return to the land of the living. Was it the house swinger party? I don't think so. I think time was the great healer. Don't get me wrong, I did have a spring in my step. I did have new memories, that didn't have Auggie in them. I did sleep better at night, but I don't think getting laid, however good it was, was the reason for my ability to think less negatively, to start really feeling again.

I think it was a combination of things: friends, who really cared about me, and showed it in the most physical way possible, a new outlook, an understanding that Auggie was past tense. It sucked, it sucked badly, but, I had to keep on living, not just existing, for the kids and also for myself, which is the bit that had been missing up until now. The therapy with Shelly Tremalane pointed that out to me, and had a lasting impression.

As I mentioned, I did go back to more parties, and things did happen. I found that this little group loved their costume parties; every fourth or fifth party was one of those.

It was at one of those parties that I learned that Barb was actually a complete sexual submissive. I was dressed as a bandito, big sombrero hat, unshaven, poncho, with bandoliers of bullets, and she was a cat woman.

When she saw me, she shivered, and I made the mistake of being in character, and ordering her around, in a thick Mexican accent. It was a costume party, sue me.

She just loved it, and when I jokingly ordered her to make out with Mary, who was dressed as a middle ages wench, she just went at it hammer and tongs with her friend. I slapped her bottom and told her to 'take Mary upstairs, and ravish her", and she just went for it.