Sharon and Jack have “the talk”

Jack’s sleep had been intermittent, his mind racing with possibilities as the vision of his wife fucking herself replayed in his dreams. Though strangely enough he found that every time he returned to sleep the dream shifted ever so slightly, with his wife’s face being replaced by a bevy of familiar ones.

By 5 am he awoke and knew that trying to recapture peaceful sleep was a lost cause. Slowly he eased himself out of bed and shuffled down to the kitchen and set about making himself breakfast. A bowl of oatmeal and honey with a nice cup of steaming coffee was exactly what he needed, the blissful warmth spreading through his body.

The peace of his little fiefdom at the breakfast table was eventually interrupted by a figure emerging from the dark.

Sharon didn’t look well. The bags under her eyes were dark and gruesome like two bruises on her weary face. If his sleep had been fitful he couldn’t imagine what hers had been like.

She stared at him in silence for what felt like a millennium distilled into a moment. There was conflict in her eyes, but Jack couldn’t really get a read on the situation. She just stood there unmoving.

Finally she sat across from him, pale hands clasped before her. “I think it’s time we spoke.”

Jack took a sip of coffee, the caffeine and the steaming warmth revitalising him enough that he wasn’t overly concerned about where the conversation. He put the cup down and levelled his gaze at her.

“I’m all ears.”

Sharon sighed, her whole body sinking with the action. “I broke it off,” she said, “with…with the other guy.”

Jack said nothing.

“I don’t have feelings for him,” she went on, “I’m not sure I ever did. It was just a mindless thing, you know? A hit of dopamine. Something to make me feel good about myself. It meant nothing.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, but otherwise kept his silence.

“I hate how this has tainted our home. I hate how distant we’ve become, this…I don’t know, Cold War, that’s come between us. I should have handled the way you’ve been acting a lot better, I know I should,” she took a shuddering breath, “we haven’t communicated properly in a long time. We’ve both been working so often, you haven’t been available. You’re always at the office and when you get home it’s either to skulk off to your study or you sit on the couch on autopilot…” she stopped herself, and looked up at him with a fragile smile, “but…I’m willing to forgive all that. We can try again. I want us to try again.”

He regarded her in silence with cold, incurious eyes and then spoke.

“Sharon,” he said, “that has to be the most half-assed apology I’ve ever heard.”

She recoiled as if struck.

“All I’m hearing from you is how much you think I’m a shit husband and how you’ve grown tired of your lover.” He spread his hands out, “Do you really think you can just snap your fingers and I’ll come running back to you? You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

A drill of shame was sent directly into her, puncturing deep into her heart. She sunk a little in her seat.

“No, if you want to fix this marriage then you’re going to have to earn it.”

And like that he stood up, put his dishes in the sink and made to leave. Her hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Wait! What can I do? Just tell me what you need from me and I’ll do it!”

Jack tore himself free from her grip, sending another wave of shame. “Figure it out yourself.”

Though he took it as a sign of progress, the interaction had sent Jack into a foul mood. How could that woman be so self-absorbed? It was clear that more work needed to be done.

He spent much of the day at work theorising what he could do while Rhonda sucked him off from beneath his desk. As he unloaded into the warm wet vacuum of her mouth inspiration struck him.

That night he returned home, went about his usual routine and waited until the house was mostly silent. Creeping out into the darkened hallway he heard the tiny groans and moans of Sharon, once again masturbating in the living room.

Watching her caress her glistening cunt, fingers drilling in and out, Jack began to focus all of his being into projecting a single feeling directly into Sharon’s mind. Frustration.

Her actions sped up. She began to furiously rub circles inside her womanhood, to slap at her clit. Again and again. Her face, red with effort and slick with sweat twisted in annoyance. She couldn’t get off.

“Fuck!” She growled, eventually giving up and laying back on the couch with put out expression. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Jack smiled and returned to bed.