Kate First Timer ♌
Hi everyone, I’m Kate. The first time I talked to Vincent, my husband, about potentially having an open marriage, I thought it might be our last evening as a couple.
We had only been married for a few years at that point, maybe it was a red flag that I wanted to experience other men.
Vinny was, well is, a great husband. He strove to make me happy, create a home, he did the bulk of the house work, because I was terrible at it.
I can already hear the opinions of him developing from all the readers.
My father was German, my mother Irish. I suppose you could say her genes dominated as I exhibit the telltale red hair, freckles, and generally cute Irish girl looks.
I was also blessed, if I do say so myself, with a great rack.
In addition to going through school quickly, I found myself developing before the other girls, filling out a C-cup before I got to college.
Both of my parents would say I was going to be a heartbreaker, which was always a bit frustrating for me to hear.
It made no sense to me until I realized they meant it as a compliment.
I would always say I never want to hurt anyone.
That brings me back to Vinny. I love the man.
He’s an incredible person and he balances me in so many ways.
As I finished my advanced degree, he chose to become a massage therapist. His plan was to eventually open a practice for the two of us.
Little did he know, my loins had plans that would distract from such an entrepreneurial endeavor.
I had to keep my mind occupied as I helped him go through the painful stretches.
Often glancing away and looking up at the ceiling.
I’d think of old wholesome movies, Jaba the Hutt, working on cadavers, and so many disgusting moments in life.
BUT holy fuck he would move, I would have to watch what I was doing, and then the scent of his clean skin would hit my nostrils.
I would take a deep breath with the pretense of getting him to copy me.
It only made matters worse because as he breathed his chest would extend, and all of his muscles in his upper body would find a way to move.
All I could think is thank God the labor in my job would often make my face red, because every time I would leave a treatment with Eric, I was tinted from my face down to my nipples.
Eric had requested to work with me specifically after trying out everyone in the clinic.
“How’s that stretch?” I asked as I pushed his left knee up to his chest.
“My hammies are tight bitches,” he said as I kept leaning my weight into the stretch.
“They really are, you should think of maybe getting a massage a couple times a month to help complement these stretches,” even if I’m turned on I’m still a professional.
“Yeah? Do you do those too?”
“Nope. We have a couple on staff. David and Janice. My husband will probably be on the team soon too,” I said, revealing to him that I was married.
“No way, you’re too young to be married,” he said with a disappointed, tight grin, “That guy better be something amazing.”
“He really is.” I moved to the opposite side of the table to help stretch the other leg.
“I mean it, I was going to ask you out,” it was Eric’s turn to blush.
I couldn’t help but smirk, “Are you serious? You were gonna ask me out?” Now a full smile on my face.
“Yeah Kate, I mean, maybe I should call you Dr. Kincaid now,” he was normally very good at conversation. This moment was not one that he expected.
“Eric.” Taking a deep breath as I leaned into his leg. “Eric, you’re fine. That is super flattering and you’re one of my favorite patients.”
Another deep breath trying to get him to mimic my actions. “Don’t you dare call me Dr. Kincaid and honestly,” this next part was not honest at all, “we’re in an open marriage.”
What did I do!? Why would I tell him that?
“Oh,” a puzzled look crossed his face. “How could he share you? That’s way too much of a risk.”
“Why would you assume that I am not calling the shots here?” I asked as my inner feminist started coming out.
But why? Why was I pushing this lie? We all know why. Quiet you.
“I told him that if we get married, I need freedom if and when I want it.”
Whyyyyyyyyy?!
I hoped that Eric could not see the lie I was digging so blatantly in front of him.
“That’s fucking awesome,” he said simply as the room went silent; I finished the stretches on his bitch-tight hammies.
“We are aboot done,” don’t ask me why I suddenly became Canadian, but I sure did. “Any areas hurting right now for some additional stretches?”
“GO OUT WITH ME!” He shut his eyes, clenched his jaw, and looked quite embarrassed. “Oh man, fuck. Yes I mean. Will you please go out with me? I just needed to get the words out.”
We both laughed as there was no doubt others who heard his random outburst. “Let me. Let me check in with my husband, Vincent.”
I set Eric free from the treatment room a moment later. Thinking to myself, I am a fucking idiot.
Later that night, I sat across from Vinny, eating a slice of pizza, both of us watched some stupid episode of a family-friendly sit-com.
My mind was drifting back to Eric and the proposal for a date.
I still could not believe that I told him a blatant lie, like I am some hot swinger, or maybe that both Vincent and I were swingers and had multiple lovers all over the place.
What if Eric told others about what I said?
What if Eric found out who Vinny is and asked him?
The weight of the situation was making my eye twitch.
I devoured the slice of pizza then grabbed a second slice; I side-eyed Vinny.
This is his fucking fault. I know it’s not his fault, but can’t I blame him anyway?
No, I can’t blame him. He’s cool. A man that I want to have babies with, grow old with; although I wonder what Eric will look like as he grows old?
SNAP out of it bitch!
My head was all over the place.
Finally, I took a page from Eric’s book, “HEY! SOMEONE ASKED ME OUT TODAY.” Laughter erupted from both of us.
“Why are you yelling?” Vinny asked with a grin stretched across his handsome face. Bastard.
“I don’t know. I just wanted to say it and that’s kinda how it came out,” I said sheepishly and took a drink to hide my face.
“Babe, that’s great. Was he hot? Or was it a girl? Was she hot? What did you say?” His questions came jovially. I was about to rain on his parade.
“Yeah, remember Eric (insert Irish name here) from the (insert baseball team name here ((no not that team, the other team)))?” His eyes grew wide.
“Are you KIDDING ME?!” He jumped up in triumph. “A professional athlete asked out my wife?!” He seemed even more excited than me, but probably not for the same reasons.
“Yep.” I said, my heart rate returned to normal since he wasn’t yelling at me, and I took another bite of pizza.
“And you said you’d love to go on a double date with him and your husband and one of your girlfriends?” he asked with a smirk as he sat back down, he shook his head as he checked me out.
“Not exactly.” I kept eating my pizza, trying to calm the storm inside and think of how to word it.
“And you said he could date your SISTER! So we could have a pro in the family when they hit it off and get married.” His goofy smile made me giggle.
“What sister? I don’t have a sister.”
“You have MY sister!”
“She’s a lesbian!”
“Yeah, excuses, excuses,” we both laughed and the mood in the room was warm. I knew I had to rip off the bandaid and tell him I wanted to go on a date with Eric, but how?
“So can I?” I just blurted it out.
“‘Scuse me?” He asked as his face fell from a laughing smile to a smaller, sarcastic smile.
“Can I go on a date with Eric?” This time I heard myself and how stupid it felt to be a married woman asking to go on a date. We both looked at each other for a few moments. Still smiling, little nervous chuckles filled the room.
Did the TV turn off?
It felt like every sound was so loud. My heart was pounding in my ears.
Did I just fuck up my marriage? Was he about to come unglued?
Shaking my head as if to take back my question Vincent surprised me.
“Yeah.” Escaped his mouth quietly and I saw the color flush his face. He doesn’t blush easily.
“‘Scuse me?” It was my turn to be confused.
“You asked,” he said as he took a bite of pizza.
“Yeah, but we don’t do this type of thing. I mean,” I reached across and grabbed his hand, “I’m yours and you’re mine.” Both of us felt a bit of warmth.
“I know that.” He said flatly, “I also know that you have had one other man all these years.” He looked at me sincerely and squeezed my hand. “I will always be your man, until the end of time. Eric O’Connell asked you out. You’re beautiful.”
“What’s the game here? Do you have your eyes set on some floozy at work? It’s not your damn work wife is it?” I was suddenly feeling frustrated and shocked and a mix of emotions that were no doubt clouding my ability to think clearly.
“Nope, no game. You’re my wife. As long as you promise that’s not going to change, I’m willing to let you have a new experience. How often do you get asked out by professional athletes anyway?”
I just looked at Vincent. Shocked and excited.
I leaned over the table and kissed him with a renewed passion.
Momentarily looking at each other. Not saying much.
We enjoyed the silence and digested more than the pizza.
We cleaned up the table and the kitchen.
Making small talk about our days, not truly talking more about the potential date and if it would happen.