Strokes happen elsewhere, when you’re old and when you’re crumbling already, right? Well, may be. But there are times, when a husband is only 36 and he has a stroke. He has a stroke when he is supposed to be young, virile and as powerful as a man can get. There are times when a blood clot can come out of the blue and transform a man like Tony into something profoundly less, something humiliatingly small. Tony didn’t ask for a stroke. He didn’t ask to be left with a limp left arm and a dragging left foot. He didn’t ask to be left incapable of sustaining a proper erection, something that would seem good and manly, solid and fertile inside me.
I remember visiting him in the hospital. I thought that he was going to die. There would be another blood clot and that would be the end. They medicated him, filling him full of blood thinners, rat poison or something like. He survived. As he started to recover that changed me too. I am accustomed to dressing very sexily indeed. I love sex, very physical sex. I dress to tease and provoke. But there came a visit when I was still dressed that way and one of the registrar’s looked at me that certain way that suggested ‘bed’. He wanted to fuck me. Tony noticed. I felt so ashamed. I thought, you should have dressed down girl! You should have dressed demure. But Tony smiled. He smiled in that new slightly lop sided way.
‘The guy wants you’ he said calmly. ‘He wants has hand between your legs and then his cock there too.’
I looked across at the man. He was tall, broad shouldered and by then it had been weeks since Tony and I ‘did it’. In truth I was pretty sure that we would never ‘do it’ again. The nurses that the registrar talked to obviously adored him. Their eyes followed him that certain way. He was called Ben.
‘Chloe…. don’t take this the wrong way. I love you like crazy… but I think that you should fuck men like Ben. I think that you shouldn’t be ashamed to be whole, to still have sexual needs.’
I stared at my husband. It was like looking at a stranger. It wasn’t that he had made the most generous of suggestions, Tony is kind and very generous. It was that he had quickly and quietly assessed his own abilities, his potential, his horizons. Tony, somehow, I don’t know how, had accepted that he was less, incomplete, incapacitated, less masculine, and all (amazingly) without hating himself bitterly.
‘If he smiles at you, respond. Give him the eye. Signal that you want him’ Tony said.
I stared again into his green eyes. If his stroke had robbed his body of strength, co ordination and balance then it had not stole his intellect.
‘I’m asking you to fuck other men, the right men, so that we can survive. I’m asking you to go with men who can meet your reasonable, feminine, rightful needs. We’re going to learn to do sex other ways. That’s what I’m asking Chloe’ Tony said. His expression hardened. His voice did have a hint of a slur, but it wasn’t marked.
I didn’t have time to answer, Ben was back, beside us with some more test results. His cologne was appealing, earthy, masculine and I noticed it afresh now. He seemed a beautiful black man. Can men be beautiful… yes…………. yes they can! I smiled shyly as he summarised what the physiotherapists had demonstrated. Tony would walk again with a limp. He would have power in his right hand but his left would seem a limp cabbage. Tony wanked using his left hand. I caught him once.
‘May be we can discuss rehab sometime this week Chloe, what will be needed to help Tony when he gets home’ said Ben.
Tony nodded at me. He meant what he had said. He meant the sex stuff. I remember blushing. I remember blushing quickly and saying that we could go and discuss that now if Ben preferred. He did. We walked away from the bedside. I was wearing a tight little leather mini skirt. It was beautiful too, immaculately cut leather and superb stitching. Ben noticed. His glance was brief, discreet, but he noticed and Tony saw that too. He saw the medic look, saw me wiggle my hips, just a little, only a little.
Ben’s office was just off the main ward. He fixed us coffee and said that the rehab he had to talk about was ‘delicate’. Tony wouldn’t be able to fuck any more. He could get an erection with manual stimulation, but the connections to his brain were pretty jumbled up. It was unlikely that he could wank his own load. He wondered whether I felt able to masturbate my husband? Masturbate, it sounded clinical. I assured him that I could. I lied. I lied and said that we were ahead of the game, already talking about sex in the future. It wasn’t simply that Tony would encourage me to go with another man, but that he would accept that I would have that guy’s children.
It was a blatant falsehood. It was such a grand claim! Ben stared at me. His glance fell to my skirt for a micro second and then it was back to my face.
‘You’re very calm, very frank’ he observed. He wanted to smile, may be I made him hard? I hoped that I did. Still, he resisted the smile.
‘Ben, we play games OK. Couples play games, that’s what they do to stop sex becoming just an act. Tony likes to see me as posh, as a bit too good for him…’ I whispered. More lies, but lies that seemed to light something in the registrar’s eyes.
‘Does that surprise you?’ I demanded, and crossed my legs.
He couldn’t avoid the stare below this time. He couldn’t.
‘No…’ he said, ‘sex appeal…. its something that wasn’t handed out fairly at the start. Some people have a lot of sex appeal like…’
‘Me?’ I asked provocatively.
His eyes darted down quickly. it was a micro look and no more.
‘Like you,’ he agreed, ‘you have sex appeal. You have a lot of sex appeal.’
His response made my heart race. I felt it pounding in my chest.
‘This accelerates something…. something we thought about doing. I was….. am….. going to take a lover’ I whispered. Just once we had played just suppose, Tony and I. We had played with that dirty thought. It was a thought amongst a million thoughts, a thousand touches between my husband and I.
‘Someone who can fuck you as you deserve’ said Ben. It wasn’t exactly good etiquette or professional was it? But that was how he put it.
‘Yes’ I said simply, matter of fact, as though it was inevitable, as though my appeal to men was as obvious as the sun in the sky. It felt incredibly vamp. It felt utterly surreal, but I said it.
‘What will you do with Tony?’ Ben asked.
I paused. I was beyond boundary, beyond reason now. I was thinking with a far more instinctive, a far more ancient part of the brain.
‘I’ll treat him as second string. He can still earn a living. He will get used to the sex thing.’
Ben’s eyes flickered again. They flickered as if a fire had just spontaneously combusted into life within.
‘Isn’t that cruel?’ he whispered.
‘Yes’ I answered.
‘But…’ he began, without direction, without purpose I supposed. His eyes fixed on my crotch.
I narrowed my eyes at Ben. ‘He’s no use to me in bed is he? You said that. He will get used to me seeing someone. Just one man, the right man, who can take me and manage him as the second string.’
I stood abruptly. He could see the lithe and shapely form of my legs, the tightness of my skirt from where he sat. He saw my stiletto heeled shoes, the cuff bracelet rating chic on my dainty wrist. I felt a bitch. I felt a complete and utter bitch! The little speech should have appalled him, Ben the medic, with ethical sentiments.
I reached inside my Chanel bag and handed him my business card.
‘There are rules, your rules, the hospital rules… but when Tony is home, when he is out of your care, I want you to call me, please….’ I let my eyes rest on his gaze. I didn’t blink. I didn’t waver.
‘I’d like that’ said Ben. His face contorted with emotions, desire, shock, surprise, the confusion that a woman could be this direct, this honest.
He went to shake my hand. The business, the medical convention. I didn’t accept it. Instead I waited and looked up into his eyes again.
‘I don’t know that this can work’ he said, ‘I’ve been watching you ever since your husband was admitted.’
‘I want you. He’ll learn to respect it. He will learn to thank you for it’ I said quietly. My heart raced like a train. Crazy. that was crazy.
He kissed me. it was brief, on my lips, dry lipped. His lips were bigger than Tony’s, his mouth bigger. I imagined his mouth covering mine, his tongue pushing inside as his cock pumped into my sex. My body thrilled at the prospect of it.
‘Don’t be ashamed, don’t just be medical, I’ve watched you too’ I admitted. ‘Tony is a nicer, a humbler man than you can guess. He will accept what you take, he’ll live by your rules.’
He kissed me again and this time his lips parted. I felt the sweeping wetness of his tongue against mine and shook. I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted him to finger me there and then. Pet me, pet me, my head screamed it!
Somehow, yes somehow we parted. We parted and Ben stared at me, walking back to Tony’s bed through the open door of his office. I felt his gaze on my buttocks. I wanted his gaze on my buttocks and almost sashayed towards my husband.
‘All OK?’ Tony asked when I arrived at the bed.
‘I shocked you’ he said, his face registering concern.
‘No… no, you didn’t’ I insisted.
He was drinking fruit juice from a cartoon, his right hand gripping the drink.
‘You understand… I love you… I said it out of love, for love, our love’ he said. Moments of reflection, alone, had made him start to doubt.
‘I need to fuck and you can’t’ I said. My head was back in the office. I felt Ben’s lips on mine again. I felt his gaze as though it was tactile. Eyes became fingers, all over my buttocks. I imagined him pushing them inside my panties and into my sex.
‘Commendably practical’ said Tony with a thin grin. I think that he said it out of relief. He had resolved something. He had resolved to be by turn brave and humble, very very, very humble.
I slipped my fingers beneath the sheet. No one was paying us attention. His cock and scrotum felt like a mound of flesh, nothing more. Still, with thumb and two fingers I found his cock and started to tease him. Mechanical, it was mechanical, but the look on Tony’s face said that he felt his erection. If he couldn’t work up a stiff of his own he could still want one.
‘Good chat with the registrar?’ asked Tony trying to retain a decorum.
‘Yes’ I answered simply. I felt Tony’s cock stiffen and imagined how much more satisfactory Ben’s would be. I imagined his cock head pushing between my lips.
‘I can’t make this happen…. what you’re doing’ Tony moaned softly. He was really aroused and now embarrassed.
I looked at him. A terrible cruel judgement came into my head. It came from I know not where.
‘You’re not even a decent tosser….. are you?’ I said acidly.
The blood drained from his face. I had wounded Tony, mortally wounded his psyche. He groaned softly, like a critter dying beneath some roadside bush. He looked like road kill in the waiting.
‘No…. no I’m not even that’ he admitted.
I jerked his cock harder. It was erect now, stiff, even hard. It could evaporate though, I knew that. Tony would never keep a proper, a manly erection.
‘I choose who. I choose how, where, when and for how long. He will be my lover and you will thank him for it’ I said cruelly.
‘Yes’ groaned my husband.
‘You will buy me new clothes, so that he can take me out dancing.’
‘I will sleep over at his place, we will go away weekends, you will wait behind’ I said nastily.
‘Yes Chloe’ he managed, just.
‘I like Ben….. I like him a lot’ I said, jerking Tony’s tool.
Tony grimaced. It was like a revelation had happened. I saw why then. The damp patch appearing on the sheet above his crotch. I felt his semen trickling down my hand. It was wet, it was frankly…. disgusting. I should have felt joy, for Tony. I didn’t. I felt disgust. I had to wank the fucker off, what use was that?
‘I will have his kids….. not yours’ I insisted.
There…. right then. In an instant. Tony’s cock sunk into a sticky mess, a fleshy blob. I wiped my spermy fingers in his crotch hair.
‘I will have his kids’ I insisted.
‘Yes Chloe’ he said.