No, I don’t love coming home to an empty house, he said. And as fantasies go, I don’t really object to being waited on hand and foot. It’s just not something I would expect from a life partner.
Oh, I’m offending your feminist principles. I’ll stop.
Please don’t. I want to hear what the wife and I are going to do after dinner.
Eileen closed her eyes again. Well, she’s a good wife, obviously, so she will let you do a little bit of work if you must, she said. But not until late. Then she wants to go to bed.
Which is where you are now, I take it.
Indeed I am.
Smiling luxuriously to herself, Eileen went on: Did you have a good day at work or a bad day?
It was alright.
And you’re tired now.
Not too tired to be talking to you, he said. But tired, yes.
The wife is attuned to all these little subtleties, so she wouldn’t have to ask. If you’ve had a long day and you’re tired, I think you’d get in bed around eleven and the wife
would give you head. Which she’s really good at. But not in a vulgar way, it’s all very intimate and marital and all that.
Holding the phone in his right hand, Simon used his left hand to touch himself through the thin cotton cloth of his boxer shorts. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but why am I only getting head? he said.
Eileen laughed. You said you were tired, she said.
Ah, I’m not too tired to make love to my own wife.
I wasn’t disputing your virility, I just thought you’d like it. Anyway, I can get things wrong, that’s alright. The wife would never get it wrong.
It’s okay if she does, I’ll love her anyway.
I honestly thought you liked oral sex.
Grinning now, Simon replied: I like it, I do like it. But if I only had one night with a fictional wife, I think I’d like to cover more ground. You needn’t go into detail if you’re reluctant.
On the contrary, I live for detail, said Eileen. Where were we? You undress the wife with your characteristic easy competence.
He put his hand inside his underwear then. You’re too kind, he said.
You can take it she’s very beautiful, but I won’t presume to describe her physique. I know men have their own little tastes and preferences.
Thank you for the licence. I can imagine her vividly.
Can you? said Eileen. Now I’m curious what she looks like. Is she blonde? Don’t tell me. I bet she’s blonde and like, five foot two.
He was laughing then. No, he said.
Okay. Well, don’t tell me. Anyway, she’s really wet, because she’s been waiting all day for you to touch her.
He shut his eyes. Into the phone he said: And can I touch her?
Yes.
And what then?
With her free hand Eileen was cradling her breast, tracing a circle around her nipple with the tip of her thumb. Well, you can see in her eyes she’s excited, she said. But nervous at the same time. She loves you very much, but sometimes she’s anxious that she doesn’t really know you. Because you can be distant. Or not distant, but you can be closed off. I’m just sketching in the background so you’ll understand the sexual dynamic better. She’s nervous because she looks up to you and she wants to make you happy, and sometimes she’s frightened that you’re not happy, and she doesn’t know what to do. Anyway, when you get on the bed she’s shaking underneath you like a little leaf. And you don’t say anything, you just start to fuck her. Or what did you say before?
You make love to her. Okay?
Mm, he said. And does she like that?
Oh yes. I think she was pretty innocent before you married her, so she really clings to you when you’re in bed together, because it’s overwhelming. She probably wants to
come the whole time. And you’re telling her that she’s such a good girl, you’re proud of her, and you love her, and she believes you. Remember how much you love her, that makes a difference. I know a lot about you, but that’s the side of you I don’t know. How you act with a woman you love. I’m digressing now, I’m sorry. The reason I said that thing about your wife giving you head, I think subconsciously I brought that up because it’s something I like to think about. Do you remember we did that in Paris? It doesn’t matter. I just remember that you liked it. It made me feel very self-confident. Anyway, I’m getting off the topic. I was describing you having sex with your wife. I bet she’s insanely pretty and younger than me. And like, maybe a little bit stupid, but in a sexy way. If I was going to be really self-indulgent, I would make it so that when you’re in bed with your wife, not every time but just this one time, you start thinking about me. It doesn’t have to be on purpose. A little idea or a memory goes through your mind, that’s all. Not me the way I am now, but when I was twenty or whatever. You really were very nice to me then, you know. So you’re having sex with your perfect wife, and she’s the most beautiful woman on earth, and you love her more than anything, but just for a second or two when you’re inside her, and she’s trembling and shivering and saying your name, you’re thinking about me, about things we did together when we were younger, like in Paris when I let you finish in my mouth, and you’re remembering how good it felt then, to have me in that way, and you told me it was special. And maybe it was, you know. If you’re still thinking about it all these years later when you’re in bed with your wife, maybe it was special. Some things are.
He was coming then, and his breath was hard. He shut his eyes. Eileen had stopped speaking, she was lying still, her face looked hot. He said something like: Hm. For a short time they were both quiet. Then in a low voice she asked: Can we stay on the
phone for one more minute? Simon opened his eyes again, took a tissue from the box on the bedside cabinet and started to wipe his hands and body.
As long as you want, he said. That was very nice, thank you.
Eileen laughed, almost foolishly, as if she was relieved. Her cheeks and forehead were bright. Wow, you’re welcome, she said. I forgot you were one of the ‘thank you’ guys.
It’s a great energy from you. You’re sort of ninety per cent playboy but you mix it up now and then by acting like a total virgin. I respect it, I have to say. Is it going to be awkward now when we see each other in real life?
Dropping the used tissue on the bedside cabinet and taking another one from the box, Simon said: No, we’ll both just act like nothing happened. Right? I believe you once told me I only have one facial expression anyway.
Frowning, Eileen answered: Did I really say that? How cold of me. Anyway, you have at least two. Laughing, and concerned.
He was smoothing his hand down over his chest, smiling. You weren’t being cold, he said. You were just kidding.
Anyway, your wife would never talk to you like that.
Why, does she worship me?
Yes, said Eileen. You’re like a father to her.
He made a humorous groaning noise. That’s nice, he said. Eileen was grinning. I bet you think it’s nice, she said. I knew you would. Resting his hand on the flat of his
stomach, Simon said: You know everything. Eileen screwed up her mouth. Not about you, I don’t, she said. His eyes were closed, he looked tired. I think the most realistic part of the fantasy was when I started thinking about you in Paris, he said. She seemed to breathe in deeply then. After a moment, she said quietly: You’re only saying that to gratify me. He was smiling to himself. Well, it would only be fair, wouldn’t it? he said.