Trying Something New

There comes a time in every marriage where the spark dims, or goes out entirely. For some, it can happen very quickly, over the course of a few months or years. For other couples, it can take much longer, but at some point, it is inevitable. It doesn’t mean the love isn’t there. It just means that the romantic fire is smoldering, or about to go out altogether.

Peter and Christine were in that season of marriage. They never thought they would get there, and perhaps for good reason. They had said their vows in their early twenties, and were still very much in love after 42 years. They weren’t in the best of shape, the wrinkles were plentiful, and everything seemed harder to do. But they’d say they were happy, and if asked, would say they wanted for nothing. But that wasn’t entirely true. Because they both felt their marriage was in a slump.

The love was still there, but the sex life had wained. This is something that for so many years they would have thought impossible. They felt their sex life was richer than most, especially since they were both bodyhoppers.

Their first date had been while inside other people’s bodies, as had their second. For the third they met up in real life, and had been together ever since. They hopped many people all throughout their relationship, and lived out each other's fantasies in any body that caught their eye.

There were certainly lots of people to choose from. They could be anyone, their neighbors, the clerk at the grocery store, the waiter at a local restaurant, a random passerby, or a person at their place of employment. Peter had fucked so many of his secretaries that he’d lost count.

And there was the problem. It all felt the same now. Even their ability to be anyone new had become a rut, because after a couple of decades living in the same town, they had been there, done that. Was this how they were to spend their golden years? Just come home, drink wine, watch television, and sleep. And the problem would just get worse when they retired in a few years. What they needed was to renew the spark. Could they? Is that what they wanted at this stage? Or would it just be better to coexist in a loving but sexless marriage?

Peter especially had felt this for a few months. As he poured his wife a cup of coffee that particular morning, he decided they should finally talk about it.

“You know,” he started carefully. “It’s been awhile.”

Christine half heard him as she cracked his eggs. Her husband liked his eggs cooked in a very specific way. It was both endearing, and a little annoying, because if they weren’t perfect, he wouldn’t eat them. He really should have learned to cook his own eggs by now. But no. Like so many other things, she was always the one to do it because he proved too incompetent. She was sure he could have mastered them by now, especially folding laundry, if he just put in the same effort he did with his hobbies. But he hadn’t when they were young, and so why would anything ever change. She was stuck making his eggs until one of them died.

As the eggs sizzled and marital complaints ran through her mind, her only response was a mumbled, “Put it on the calendar.”

“You want me to put our sex life on the calendar?”

“I…what? No! What are you on about?”

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

“Since what?”

“Since we’ve had sex.”

“With each other?”

“Yes. But also, as other people.”

That answer gave Christine pause. They hadn’t hopped someone to have sex in long while. They used to do it all the time in their first couple decades of marriage, multiple times a day, whenever they got half a chance. It had lessened after that, both getting swept up in the busy of life and preferring to relax at the end of the day. When was the last time they had bodyhopped someone for sex?

“Didn’t we hop the Johnson’s?”

“Yes, what for my birthday last year, right?”

“The Smith’s?”

“For your birthday two years ago, I believe.”

“Oh, what about the Parker’s?”

“Is your memory alright? That was ages ago!”

Christine sighed. “I know. But we had really great sex in them, didn’t we?”

“I suppose,” Peter agreed. “Maybe if we hadn’t hopped them after work for a month straight they wouldn’t have lost their appeal.”

“Or maybe if they hadn’t gotten old like we did.”

“So that brings me back to my question. When was the last time we had sex?”

“I…I don’t know. Oh damn it! I’ve ruined your eggs.”

“That’s okay, I don’t have to-”

Her glare made him change course.

“But I will, I will eat them, because I love you so much,” Peter finished.

“Smart man,” she smiled as she scraped them onto a plate. As she started making her own, she asked, “So what are you proposing?”

“Well, I mean, I think we should have sex.”

“I gathered that much. You want to do it now, or after breakfast.” It was as romantic as scheduling a trip to the store.

“Are you in the mood right now?” Peter asked curiously.

Christine pursed her lips. “Not particularly. You?”

“Me neither.”

“Part of getting older I guess.”

“But when did that happen?”

“For me it was probably after the millionth load of laundry, or maybe thinking about all the repairs that need done to this house. Or one of the other hundreds of things that I’m thinking about all the time.”

Peter nodded. “For me it's just, well, I come home, and I don’t even think about sex.”

Christine furrowed her brow. She felt the same way. “And no one does it for you out there anymore?” Christine gestured to the outside world. “No people you want to hop, or make me hop?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ll think about it every once in a while. But not as much as I used to. And when I do, it’s fleeting. By the time I get home from work, it feels like another thing that I, we, keep putting off to do other things.”

“Oh, speaking of work. I’d better get going. I’ve got a meeting.”

Peter checked his watch and made a face. “Me too. I guess we can pick this up later.”

“Don’t forget your eggs.”

“I’ll be late.”

“But you’ll be alive.”

Peter paused, then quickly ate his eggs under the watchful eye of his wife.

As the hours passed that day, both husband and wife would ponder this conversation. It was one of those brief interactions that gnawed at both of them. They both wondered, was the other person getting bored of them? Why had they stopped pursuing each other as they had in the past? Both took note of the people around them throughout the day, and briefly fantasized about their significant other hopping them for a sexual liaison. Every person they saw, no matter how attractive, barely moved the needle.

Peter arrived home from work first and poured two glasses of wine. He looked at the dark red liquid in the glass. As he did, he wondered if he should pick up that morning’s conversation, or let it lapse.

Two minutes later, Christine practically burst through the door. She moved quickly to where she knew her husband would be and picked up her glass of wine. She downed it in two gulps, and then said, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think we should hop the next couple we see, and fuck.”

Peter took a sip of wine and shook his head. “Look, I wasn’t trying to upset you this morning. We don’t have to rush into anything. It’s been a long day and-”

“No, no, you were right earlier,” Chrstine said firmly. We are in a rut. We’ve become boring.”

“There’s nothing wrong with boring,” Peter argued.

“Boring is fine sometimes. But is that’s what our marriage has become all the time. We used to take chances, and hop someone at the slightest hint of arousal. Let’s step outside of our comfort zone and try something new.”

Peter sighed. At their age, when they assumed an incorporeal form, their range was limited. “So you want to go out? Cause new is several miles in any direction.”

“We could pick one of the neighbors.”

“I thought you said new.”

Christine crossed her arms as she thought about potential candidates. The well really had run dry all around them. Even if there was someone that piqued their interest, it would still be the same. Their sexual proclivites over the years had been very vanilla by other bodyhopper standards. But still, it should be this hard to convince her husband to go out with her to bodyhop and fuck someone. The situation was really more dire than she thought.

“Well, we need to get out there and start looking?”

“That’s the problem isn’t it. I haven’t seen anyone that gets me going anywhere recently. Maybe we find someone if we go into the city. And you know how that story goes. I have to fight city traffic. We take forever to find someone we like. And if and when we find a pair we can agree on, we have the logistics of getting somewhere private to have sex, and that’s a whole thing. And then it’s late, and I have to fight traffic on the way back. And then we’re both tired the next morning-”

“I get it, Peter. But we can’t just shove this under the rug. It might take some effort on our part. It’s not like the perfect solution is just going to show up right outside our door.”

Peter was about to respond, when a series of loud beeps echoed up and down their street. It was the familiar cry of a large truck signaling its intentions to back up. Peter and Christine went to investigate, and saw a large truck pull into the driveway across from their house. Two men wearing a moving company logo exited and opened the back of the truck to unload it.

Two car doors slammed, and Peter and Christine noticed two other people. A man and a woman had parked their car along the curb, and were heading towards the house. The woman put her arm around the man’s shoulder. The man reciprocated, and they gave each other a side squeeze. They began talking. Peter and Christine couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they appeared very excited.

The man went back to the car and began to retrieve a couple of bags from what Peter now saw was a very full car. The man was young, probably in his early twenties. He had fair skin and short brown hair. He wasn’t muscular per se, but the way he lifted the bags, Peter knew he was fit. He probably had abs. Christine loved men with abs.

The woman came to the trunk and took out a small cardboard box. Christine noticed two things about her right away. The first was that she was very pretty, in a girl next door kind of way. She had a very cute face, and long hair a shade darker than the man’s. The second thing she noticed was that she was for sure older than the man. If she had to guess, at least 9 or 10 years older. That wasn’t a big deal when you got to be Christine’s age, but she’d bet that woman had been accused of robbing the cradle when they got married.

“What are you thinking?” she asked her husband. She saw that his eyes had fixated on the woman.

Peter looked at his wife and winked at her. “I think the woman’s my type.”

Christine smiled. “I know she is.”

“And what are you thinking?” Peter asked.

“I haven’t had that young in years,” Christine mused. She arched an eyebrow. “I bet he’s got a lot of stamina.”

“So, shall we go introduce ourselves to the new neighbors?”

By the time the older couple crossed the street, they were already fantasizing about the many different sexual positions they would put the other couple in. Peter had to stop himself and think about work so he didn’t appear too aroused. A pitched tent did not make for a good first impression.

They were on the front lawn when the couple reappeared from the house, on their way to grab another load. They saw Peter and Christine, and the woman beamed at them.

“Are you the welcoming party?” she asked.

“Only the first wave, I’m sure,” Peter said. Now that he was closer, he tried not to stare at her ample chest which strained under a lavender shirt. He looked forward to seeing this woman naked.

Christine was having the same thoughts about the man, but saw that she was perhaps mistaken about his age. He was even more attractive up close, but now she thought he might be 20, or…even 19. Was that too young? And how old was the woman then? Because she appeared a few years older than she previously thought, like 33 or 34. That was a large gap at that age.

She extended her hand to the woman. “I’m Christine, and this is my husband Paul. We live right across from you. Happy to see someone finally moved into this house.”

“Oh we are happy to be here,” she said, taking Christine and Peter’s hands in turn. “My name’s Sara, and this is Mark.”

Mark took the cue, and also shook their hands. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, then began rifling through the contents of the car. He carefully extracted a fragile wooden clock. “Where do you want this, Mom?” he asked.

Peter and Christine stiffened at this question. For them, the idea of had always been off the table.

“Um, so, uh,” Peter sputtered, wanting to make absolutely sure he had heard correctly. He pointed towards Mark who was already heading back to the house with the clock. “So he’s…not your husband?”

Sara laughed. “Oh heavens no. He’s way too young for me. And also he’s my son. That’s why he calls me mom.”

Christine nodded her head like this made perfect sense. Without thinking, she said, “He seems younger up close.”

Sara thought that was an odd thing to say. She must have communicated that with her face, because Christine quickly added, “You both look young. Everyone looks young at our age.”

“Sweet of you to say,” Sara said graciously. “I’ll be 35 this year, so compliments like that keep me going.”

“So, will your husband be along shortly?” Peter asked insistently, and with less tact that Christine would have liked.

Sara’s face tightened a little. “My husband died a long time ago, unfortunately.”

“Well, we’re sorry to hear that, dear,” Christine said sympathetically.

Peter’s face looked like he was trying to solve a challenging riddle. “But…you look too young to have a son that old.”

“You two are just full of compliments!” Sara said, beaming again. “His father and I were high school sweethearts, and I had Mark when I was still a teenager. I was younger than he is now when I had him.”

Despite new reservations, Chrstine was still trying to do the math. “So, Mark is how old exactly?”

“He’s 18,” Sarah replied. She was beginning to feel like she was in an interview. “He seems older because he’s been the man of the house for so long. It’s been just the two of us for almost his whole life.”

“I see,” Peter and Christine said in unison.

The couple did not want to dally now, and looked for a way to excuse themselves without appearing rude. As Mark reappeared to collect more items from the car, Peter piped in, “Well, we don’t want to interrupt you while you’re moving. Lots to do I suppose.”

Before she could stop herself, Christine offered, “Unless you would like any help?”

Peter silently cursed his wife. She knew about his bad back. And he knew about her bad knees. What did she expect them to do that would actually be helpful?

During this meeting, Sara had also been giving her neighbors a bit of an appraisal. They seemed nice enough. But as far as helpful moving candidates, they might be a little past their prime. The husband looked like he might have a heart attack if she asked him to do any manual labor. Probably best not to chance it. Plus, there was something a little creepy about the way they had looked at her and her son. She had caught Peter staring at her chest repeatedly. She didn’t like it, but given her figure, she had lived with it for most of her life. What she hadn’t appreciated was how Christine had looked at Mark like he was a piece of meat, right up until she told them they were mother and son.

She began filling her arms with more odds and ends from the car. “You know, I think we’ve got it. But thank you!”

“Oh, okay, we’ll let you get to it,” Peter said quickly. And the couple turned and walked back to their house.

Sara cocked her head as she watched them go. Maybe her intuition was off. They clearly meant well, coming over to meet them and offering to help. Maybe she was just tired from the trip. She shouldn’t make such rash judgments against her neighbors. She pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the task of moving into their new home.

Back across the street, Peter and Christine were discreetly watching from each end of the living room curtains.

After a minute, Chrstine gave a heavy sigh. “Well, I guess it was too good to be true.”

“So we’re for sure ruling them out?” Peter asked regretfully. “I mean, you did say the next guy and gal-”

“They’re related,” Christine said sharply. “And not distantly. They’re mother and son. About as close as it gets.”

“I know, but-”

“How is there a but? We’ve always had that rule, Peter. No .”