His fingertips pressed softly at her jugular for a couple of heartbeats; then he pulled away, straightening. He made a funny little noise, a whew, like he was overheating, then grabbed his beer and took a long drink. Sam smiled and sipped her wine.

He leaned an arm along the top of the jukebox, his posture at once matching his accent: pure, casual charisma. When he spoke, it sounded as though lust had dropped his voice half an octave. “Well, I didn’t notice anybody punching me in the head, so I guess your man approves, huh?”

“I’m assuming so.”

“That was…”

She waited patiently, wondering what adjective Bern would find.

“That was something,” he finished.

She smirked. “Just ‘something’?”

“If we were on an actual date, that would’ve been hot. I mean, it was hot, just with a shadow looming over it.”

“While you waited to see if you’d get punched in the head?”

“Pretty much.”

“Will it be hotter if there’s a next time, with you knowing there’s no punch coming?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it would be. Though the threat wasn’t without its own weird appeal.”

She laughed. “Do you think you’d like there to be a next time, if my husband’s up for it?”

He looked thoughtful as he sipped his beer. “I would. What would the next step be?”

“It’d probably start like tonight, you and me meeting and having a drink, but then I’d bring you home. I don’t want to go super far the first time, but you know. Mess around. Third-base-type stuff, or whatever feels natural.”

“Where would he be?” Bern asked.

“He’d be at the bar, watching like tonight, then head home before us. We have a bathroom off our bedroom. He’d watch from there with the door cracked, with us pretending we don’t know he’s there.”

“Huh.” Another long, pensive stare into the middle distance.

“You don’t have to commit right now, of course. And obviously I have to talk to him first.”

“I want to say I’m up for it… I don’t know how I’ll feel tomorrow, and right now I’m jacked up on adrenaline, so it’s hard to be sure. Maybe we can all think about it for a couple of days, make sure we’re all still into it.”

“Would you like me to let you make the next move?” she asked.

“If you guys know right away you want to take it further, go ahead and let me know. Please. That’ll make my decision way easier.”

“Okay, I will. And vice versa. If you know right away, feel free to tell us.”

“Deal.”

Sam drained her wine and Bern asked, “Can I walk you to your car, or…?”

“We took a cab. We weren’t sure how tipsy we’d need to get to make it through this evening.”

Bern laughed and nodded at her empty glass. “Hey, only one round. Guess I don’t require the thickest beer goggles.”

She smiled. “No, you were a very pleasant surprise.”

“So were you. And a cheap date to boot.”

“Cheaper than you know – I’m paying the tab.”

“No way. That’ll wreck the perfect job we’ve done, making it look like I’m wooing you.”

She made a face, hesitating.

“Come on. You’ve got to let me pay. Plus, it’s not like I’m some saintly sex surrogate in all this. There’s as much in this for me as there is for you both.”

Weird, but Sam hadn’t thought of it that way. She wanted to please Mike so much, had gotten her hopes up so high and was so relieved by the reality of Bern, she felt as though he were doing them a favor. That he needed to be thanked profusely. Like they’d hired him.

But of course he got something out of this. He’d answered their post for a bull, but they could easily have answered his request for an audience. She smiled to herself, excited by the prospect of realizing two men’s sexual fantasies in one fell swoop. As for Sam, she’d be given a taste of forbidden male fruit, something she’d forfeited happily enough when she’d said I do. Hopefully she’d be getting pleasure, if Bern was as good in bed as she was prepared to pretend he was.

She touched his arm, a grateful gesture. If they went through with all this, they’d become quite a few things to one another – conspirators. Partners in orchestrating Mike’s fantasy. Lovers, of course. Friends, it was starting to feel like to Sam, though not of the simplest variety.

After Bern settled the tab, she asked, “Would you walk me out? My husband and I are going to take separate cabs on the way back… You know, part of the role-playing. I want it to look like you’re taking me home.”

“Of course.” Proving himself the consummate acting partner, Bern offered his arm and a cocky smile. She had to glue her eyes to the door with all her will to keep from looking at Mike, barely ten feet to the left in her periphery, but she managed it.

Sam called for a cab. The cool spring air and relative quiet enveloped them, and everything felt very different. More real, more delicate. She realized in a breath, she had her hopes up for all of this to work out. It made her vulnerable, the feeling of going on a date with a wonderful man and praying he’ll call you back, that he’ll like you back, but not wanting to float too high above the earth, only to crash back down if he didn’t reciprocate.

She felt something else, too – guilt.

Not from what she’d done inside, but what she was doing now. It seemed selfish to still be linked to this new man’s arm once their performance had wrapped. If Mike couldn’t see it, who was it for? If it was for Sam or Bern or both of them, was that okay? Where did the kink end and actual adultery begin? Those delineations were Mike’s to draw, and without him watching she felt uncomfortable enjoying Bern’s company. She slid her arm from his.

“You can head home, or wherever,” she said. “My cab should be here soon.”

“Then what? He finds one of his own?”

She nodded. “I’ll text him, tell him I’m running late, waste enough time that he can beat me home. We’ll pretend I kept him up waiting while I was out flirting with you.”

He smiled. “I am so jealous of whatever totally fucked-up sex you two are going to have when you get home.”

She laughed. “Thank you. If all goes well, maybe you’ll get to partake someday. Oh, and thanks for the drink.”

“No problem. Hope to hear from you soon.” He didn’t kiss her good-bye but laid a hand on her upper arm and gave it a friendly, gentle squeeze, one that left goose bumps in its wake. “Take care.”

“You, too.”

Sam watched him stroll to a pickup truck and climb inside. He lowered his window to prop his elbow on the door, and she returned his lazy wave and watched him pull onto the quiet street.

A long, ragged, loaded breath tumbled from her lungs when he finally turned out of sight.

Her cab arrived shortly. Sorry, I’m running late, she texted Mike from the backseat. On my way now, I promise. Home in 30. She was still role-playing, and she could swear her heart beat a million times while she waited for his reply, terrified he’d hated every moment of the bar, that he was angry and disappointed and traumatized by the realization of his kink.

Her phone buzzed. She pressed the little green word-bubble icon with a shaking thumb, held her breath as she read Mike’s text.

Just getting into bed. Come home soon. Please.

His lie flooded her with relief, telling her where his head was.

She’d have the cab take her to their neighborhood’s wine and spirits store, then browse long enough to be sure Mike beat her home, as they’d planned. He’d be under the covers when she got in, acting as though he’d been there for ages while she was out. He’d interrogate her as she undressed and she’d deny, deny, deny, then finally fess up. She’d tell him every nasty thought she’d entertained about Bern since she’d shaken his hand, and no doubt come up with some new ones while she and Mike fucked.

Then she imagined Bern’s hand in another context. Her brain took a stab at picturing him alone, back in his bed, stroking to the thought of her and Mike watching him. The vision drew her breath short and tensed her legs. She’d conjure it again in an hour when Mike reclaimed her.