Our house was such that the master bedroom was on the first floor with three windows facing the backyard. Each window was outfitted with plantation shutters that were always kept slightly open to allow some amount of light into the bedroom. The master bathroom faced the backyard as well with a large block glass window near the bedroom windows. The block glass was thick and prevented anyone from seeing directly into the bathroom, yet you could still see light and detect shapes moving inside.
Sometime after seven I saw the light turn on in the master bathroom. I watched as the figure of my wife moved about. I was mesmerized watching her, knowing that she was preparing herself for him. I watched her get ready over the course of half an hour, slowly sipping a beer as I did. Soon all sorts of images began to flood my mind. I watched as she primped her hair in front and the mirror and moved in and out of the closet seemingly trying on a half dozen outfits. I imagined being hidden inside the bathroom, watching her prepare for him. Seeing her meticulously apply her makeup and fix her hair. I wished I could watch as she slipped into the lingerie I knew she bought specifically for him. By the time she was done I had finished two beers, yet that did nothing to dull the ache between my legs.
Twenty minutes later I watched as his silver Mercedes pulled into the driveway. I heard the garage door open and him pull the car inside. I’m sure my wife wanted to avoid any uncomfortable questions from the neighbors. I took a long swig of beer just as I heard the garage door close.
The next hour was agonizing as I sat alone in the dark in my own backyard as my wife was inside our house with another man. I wondered what they were doing inside as the bedroom remained dark. The beer seemed to give me a brief flash of courage and for an instant I considered barging into my own house and catching them in the act. I quickly thought better of it, imagining what might happen if I did. What if I barged in and caught them, and found my wife bent over the back of the coach and him fucking her? What would I do then I thought? I imagined the embarrassment of confronting him only to be sent out of my own house while he finished fucking her. It was difficult for me to imagine any other outcome. At this point I was nothing if not submissive to him and I desperately wanted to avoid having that fact pointed out.
I had just opened my sixth beer when my eyes jerked up and I saw a single lamp come on in the master bedroom. I watched through the opening between the shutters as my wife walked into the bedroom followed by my boss. Up until that point I had only seen a picture of them together and not in the flesh. Somehow seeing them together right before my eyes was a shock to my system. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt a pit grow in my stomach. I placed my hand across my chest to calm myself, but it was no use. Instead, I sat with my body shaking as I watched my wife in the dim light of my own bedroom with another man.
My distance from the window and the plantations shutters partially obscured my view and the lamp next to the bed failed to provide much illumination. Still, I could make out most of what was happening. Mason sat on the edge of the bed as my wife stood before him. I could tell he was talking to her, telling her what to do, as piece by piece she removed her clothes. By the time her black cocktail dress hit the floor I was out of my seat and crawling across the dark yard toward the bedroom windows.