Page 20 of Old Money

Sawyer’s eyes are big again, and she’s staring at me with a mixed look of confusion and intrigue.

“What wasthat?”she asks, and I chuckle at how she can’t help herself.

I should lie.

I should make something up.

I shouldn’t show her this side of me.

But then something tells me that, with her, it’s better to get it all out in the open. I’m not particularly proud of the different lifestyles I’ve tried on in my life, but I’ve had enough therapy to understand why I’ve tried them. I’m not mad at myself. And there are some reasons that I still stand by.

“We used to, uh…” I say, waving a finger between myself and the direction that Ana and Doug walked off in.

Her eyes stay wide.

“And her husband knows?” she asks. I clear my throat as I take another sip of my wine, then I look back at her. A little gasp leaves her lips. “Oh, my…was he…he was…he wasthere?”

JULIAN

Idon’t say anything, I just lean back against the booth and watch as she works through this new information.

“Is that…is that something you’ve done with…multiple, uh, partners?” she asks nervously. I narrow my eyes at her.

Time to rip off the Band-Aid.

“It is.”

She swallows again.

“I’m sorry, I…I just want to make sure I’m understanding. Are you…are you saying that you fuck women in front of their husbands?” she asks.

“I’m saying that I have.”

Her eyes move a thousand miles a minute back and forth as she processes. I laugh as I take another sip of my wine.

“Tell me,” I say after a few moments, “who are you judging more: me or them?”

Finally, she raises her eyes to me.

“I’m trying not to judge anyone,” she says. “I just have so many questions.” I smile.

“Ask away.”

“How…how do you know when they…when someone might be into it?”

“The people who are into it normally have a tell.”

“What kind of tell?” she asks.

I smirk again as I take one more swig of my wine.

“They ask a lot of questions.”

I watch as the pink flushes her cheeks, and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She squirms in her seat, and I lean forward across the table.

“Ask me what you want to ask me,” I say. She raises her eyes to me again.

“Does that…is that satisfying for you?” she asks. I pause for a moment. I’ve never really put that much thought into it. It’s not something I’ve done a lot, only a few couples throughout my adult life.

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