A Wager With Sadie: 017

The morose expression on Teddy’s face was no fun. Poor guy had all these hopes and dreams, thinking they would be that kind of couple, now he found out it was all a façade. It was hard to stifle a smile, so she swirled her glass another time, tipped it back and drained it. Set the empty wine goblet on the table next to her finished plate of twelve-hour pork belly.

Now her elbows were on the table, and she watched Teddy absently holding the base of his wineglass and running it in circles on the corner of his placemat, watching the remaining wine slosh in its deep bowl. She crossed her forearms over, reached and touched her hand to Quan’s forearm. Just a simple, pleasant gesture. One meant to show compassion and camaraderie to their wonderful dinner guest, but also to stab into her husband’s fading heartbeat—shoot a little adrenaline into that sucker.

It was the first time she’d really touched Quan. Sure, when they rode from his grandmother’s place up into the woods to go to the waterfall she’d put her arms around his middle. But that had been weird and awkward, and she pushed any sort of enjoyment from touching him out of her mind. But yeah, you couldn’t help but register how hard and strong the guy’s body was. But here it was: hard, pulsing muscle under the palm of her hand. And his skin was hot, too. And though she was tanned, she was still a white girl, and the juxtaposition of his dark skin color next to hers was scintillating. She patted his arm, felt the muscle there, felt the size of his forearms. Then she said, “And so what about your mom? We heard all about your dad’s story . . .”

Now Quan smiled—showing off those absolutely perfect bright white teeth—leaning back, but letting his arm stay where it was so key she could still hold him. She glanced to Teddy, saw his eyes widened. Was that a raised vein on the side of his neck?

Now this was more like it.

Quan said, “My mom is from Barbados. It was my dad visiting his brother—my uncle I told you was in the Navy—he was on a ship in the Caribbean, my dad is on leave, goes down to meet him. That’s when he met my mom.”

Teddy said, “She’s from Barbados?”

“New Jersey. Has family in Barbados. It’s just kismet,” he said now, bringing his two hands together and interconnecting the long fingers, showing how life was all intermingled cords and cables. “If that week hadn’t happened, if my dad’s leave wasn’t on that date, I wouldn’t even be sitting here.”

She held onto his arm for a moment, but now let it go. It would look weird. But the damage had been done. Teddy was wide-awake again. His dumb male brain filled with possibility.

She said, “Some things were just meant to be.”

And if Teddy thought the story about the hand job was bad, he had no idea what he was in store for. Sure, nothing was going to happen tonight, though Teddy thought so. Thought it was possible. And now her idiot husband had somehow enjoined Quan in this charade too. So Quan was here tonight with the impression it would culminate with him and her in bed together. Which wasn’t going to happen. But, boy, would it be fun to twist Teddy’s heartstrings into a tight knot thinking it would. He’d have an epic case of blue balls, and she would have a headache tonight.

Teddy was trying to keep the conversation going, now saying in a dry and creaky voice, “So you grew up in New Jersey?” It all came out in an evenly spaced monotone. Teddy’s mind suddenly robotic. Probably still thinking of her hand on Quan’s arm.

Quan said, “New Jersey? No. No, no. My mom and dad got married about four years later. Dad was out of the army and had a business in Montecito. That’s where I grew up.”

“Talk about an international tale,” she said now, marveling to perform for her husband, reaching over to pat Quan’s arm one more time. She said, “I don’t feel like having dessert right now. What do you say— you know they’re playing Casablanca out on the jetty? What if we go out there and have some more wine . . .?”

***

Out under starlight, the resort had arranged for the screening of the film Casablanca to be played on a draping white sheet tied at the corners to a bamboo framework. It was on the flat expanse of dock right at the jetty, the bar where he’d imbibed away the stress while Sadie was off on the fishing boat with Quan was behind him on the right. Arranged in rows facing the screen were wicker sofas like open clamshells, filled with linen cushions, room for romantic twosomes, though there were three in his and Sadie’s. They weren’t the only group of three, but it was obvious by the tiki torch lit setting and film choice this would be meant as a romantic evening.

Their clamshell, however, featured the strangest threesome. How obvious did it look to the other guests? A good-looking couple who’d been seen around the resort, obviously married, white people, and then their guest: a large and muscular young black man. Younger than them. Would people speculate on the nature of this relationship? Or was it all in his own mind? They’d probably seen Quan around the resort too. Looked like he worked there. Surely this young married couple might make friends with someone who was in their own age group. Or pretty close to it. They probably didn’t look that disparate in age.

But people wouldn’t know Sadie was a lawyer. Wouldn’t know that Quan was also going to law school. That Quan and his wife shared in common the student-athlete experience. Those were the more grounding facets of their weird relationship. The ones that made it less salacious. But they were hidden. So, no, most of the people here would probably pretty accurately think this husband was going to later watch this young black yoga and tai chi instructor bang his wife. And while it bothered him they’d think that, for some reason it also excited him.

Sadie sat between him and Quan, all three of them cozied in the space that would be generous for two. They’d had to pluck some of the pillows out and lay them on the table so they’d have room for three. His thigh was pressed against his wife’s thigh. His bare leg against hers. That would mean it would be the same on the other side, Sadie’s thigh touching Quan’s.

Sadie sat with one leg crossed over the other, her pretty and pedicured foot on display in the expensive high-heeled shoes she wore. Displaying it for Quan. Bobbing occasionally, lounging back in the cushions with her arms folded, long fingers caressing the backs of her arms while they watched Casablanca. The idea that she was entertaining his notion of sharing her with another man was dashed. She was too mad at him. It was clear that what she was doing tonight was teasing him. Rubbing it in.

Oh, is this what you want, Teddy Bear? We’ll see how much you want it when you see what it really looks like . . .

And though he wavered, sometimes thinking this was too big a step, ultimately he was not unconvinced. He still wanted it.

While it was fun and somewhat funny to be teased by Sadie, there was some disappointment that she wouldn’t follow through.

But there was always a chance.

His wife was playing a dangerous game right now. Pitting herself against Quan, acting for her husband’s sake like she was going to sleep with Quan. It was risky because while he hadn’t put it in words to Quan, Quan must think he was invited out tonight to fuck another man’s wife.

Sadie could play a game with her husband, but it was dangerous to play it with Quan because Quan thought it was all real.

***

This was a dangerous game, and she knew it. No idea what Teddy told Quan, but it sure seemed like Quan believed he was here for some sexual play tonight. While it was fun to torment Teddy, she had to be careful and not lead Quan on too far. Not that Quan would be angry or do something rash, but that she liked him and respected him, and didn’t want him being a foil in a married couple’s wargames. Whether it was being invited to tap-in for some under-the-bed-sheets wrestling, or to humiliate the husband who dared set forth such a scenario, Quan was too kind a young man to play with. Still, she couldn’t help herself . . .

With her husband’s tense thigh against hers, gently bobbing as he pretended to pay attention to the movie, she upped the ante, leaning right into Quan now, right hand touching the bare skin of his thigh as she whispered near his ear. Quan leaned close to her, and while she watched the screen, that German guy talking to Humphrey Bogart, she whispered, “That German looks like the German tourist in the river yesterday,” and she chuckled, patted his thigh and returned to center between the two men.

It wasn’t even funny, but the point was to say something Teddy couldn’t hear then laugh lightly. Playfully. And boy it worked.

The jittering up-and-down of Teddy’s bouncing leg scratched against her freshly shaved skin. She clucked her tongue and wiped her hand between them, creating space. She scowled at Teddy and said, “You’re going to set me on fire bouncing your hairy leg like that.” She held his gaze for a quick moment before she burst out laughing, then returned to watching the movie. Teddy squashed his legs together, trying to give her space.

She smiled while on the screen Humphrey Bogart stood by Sam at the piano. But there wasn’t much else to do in this cozy clamshell without going too far. They were too close, and anything she did would be too forward and Quan could take it the wrong way. And that wasn’t fair to Quan, so she employed a better idea.

She patted both their bare legs now, saying, “I’ve seen this movie a dozen times, what do you say we go dancing?”

***

This was more like it. A hundred percent Sadie was doing this on purpose. Doing it on purpose and he loved her for it.

They’d secured a good spot at the small nightclub attached on the opposite side of the pool hall. It was on the opposite side from the ocean. The views of the forest beyond the balconies were lit from below with gold floodlights. The music thrummed.

It was a romantic place. Not some young person’s rave. The couples here were mature, the music sophisticated. An international sound, some kind of bossa nova maybe, performed with traditional sounding instruments. Whatever it was, this was perfect.

If Sadie was only fucking around with him this would already go down as one fantastic evening.

Teddy was no dancer, had no rhythm, nor the build or grace required. Sadie was a good dancer and Quan matched her. She was a beautiful woman. Blonde hair shimmering and swaying over glossy shoulders. Her shrink wrap dress showed off every curve and all the male eyes were on her.

She spun, Quan holding her hand above her head, then pulling her back. Where the hell had Sadie learned to dance like this? She’d never done it with him. But she and Quan had moves. Sultry and lubricious and Latin. Hips rolling, Quan’s hands touching her body like her husband. Most of the people at the bar would think they were a couple. They weren’t, her husband sat enjoying the view with an icy drink on the bar in front of him.

There was a gleam in his wife’s eye. The more he watched, the more convinced he became. His wife had begun the slippery consideration of letting her husband have what he wanted.

The more she worked with Quan, the more she liked his moves. Enjoying her time with him, liking the way her body brushed against his. Liking the way her hand fit in his grip, looking in his eyes. Dazzled by that handsome face and bright smile.

Between songs, Sadie gripped Quan’s hand and got close to his ear to say something. Quan came his way, all smiles, giving him a look like he thought this was going well. Quan was sure he was going to fuck her tonight.

“Ay,” he said, sliding in at the bar next to him, grabbing his water and taking a drink. “Sadie wants a dance with you.” The guy beamed and his skin shone in the pulsing rainbow lights.

He leaned to say, “It’s going to be a letdown. You two looked good out there.” He winced when the words were out in the open. He hadn’t meant it so suggestive.

Quan patted his back as he hopped off the stool and headed to join his wife waiting for him on the dance floor. It was a slow number, and he embraced his wife, taking his hands in hers and swaying with her. he said in her ear, “I know what you’re doing, Sadie.”

“I’m doing what you want, Teddy. Don’t you want me to be your whore?”

He said, “If you weren’t smiling right now I’d be mad. You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Sadie was oblivious, putting on an innocent charm. “I’m having a wonderful evening. I think Quan is such a great companion. Aren’t you having fun, Teddy Bear?” She wedged a thigh between his legs, finding his hardness. “Oh my,” she whispered theatrically, “I think my Teddy is having too much fun. Shall I check our dinner guest, Teddy? Check between his legs and see if he’s enjoying the evening as much as you?”

He sneered at his wife with pure love. “You’re killing me.”

“I like dirty stories, Teddy,” she said.

“Good. Me too.”

“Tell me yours. Tell me your dirty story. Turn me on and tell me all about how you spied on our dinner guest’s naked body in the men’s locker room.”

“I didn’t spy, Sade. We were all naked.”

She rolled her eyes up as if the image he’d conjured was exquisite. “Oh, what a sight. I love this story.”

“Yeah, you would.”

“My husband naked. My lover naked . . .”

“Your lover?”

“Isn’t that what he is, Teddy? Isn’t that what you want him to be?”

“All I ever wanted was to have some fun. You’re the one who turned this into torture.”

“I like torture.”

He said, “Not when it’s done to you.”

Sadie smiled. “Tell me all about his dick, Teddy. You got a good look at it. I’ve jerked off a few Black men in college and they were all larger than average.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

She frowned as if to encourage him, disappointed he wasn’t playing along. “Describe it for me. Was I far off?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself, Sadie babes? You can act coy and sly and torture me all you want, but you can’t tell me you’re not curious.”

“Oh, I am curious, Teddy. And I’m going to find out tonight. Find out for real.”