*Adult content*
‘Where did you say Mum is this weekend?’
Florian is stretched out on the sitting room sofa, feet up on the coffee table, laptop in its customary position. Affecting nonchalance, he keeps his eyes on the screen.
‘She’s off for a spa retreat, sweetheart.’
‘Who’s she going with then?’ his son asks, pulling on a fake-fur-lined parka. The boy’s voice is heavy with suspicion – his eyes, inexpertly circled with black liner, have narrowed to slits.
‘Judy and Rebecca,’ Florian lies, turning his face to hide a blush. He watches the front door shut behind his son, then closes his laptop and sits still for a moment, waiting out the hot bloom of his discomfort.
Six months ago, when Rachel suggested this little ‘experiment’, Florian was all for it. He even looked forward to her dates – her detailed retellings drove him half mad, fuelling some of the best sex he’d had in years.
But now, a whole weekend?
Not that he’s jealous. He’s not the jealous type. Still, he thinks of them…sweating in a Finnish sauna…hidden together in the fog of the steam bath…
Eager for distraction, he picks up his mobile and calls his friend George. Florian briefly fills him in on the state of affairs.
‘So she’s with – who’s the bloke now?’ George asks.
‘James.’
James of the Idris Elba accent. Of striking broad shoulders. Of above average girth.
George asks him why he doesn’t arrange a date of his own.
‘You do have an account of some kind, do you not?’
Florian admits that he does. But, at five-foot-six and of modest good looks, he’s lucky to scare up the occasional coffee date – arranging a spontaneous hookup on a Saturday night is about as likely as George settling down with a nice girl.
‘Try Grindr, mate,’ George whispers, conspiratorial. ‘A twinky little thing like you? You’d have a date within the hour.’
Florian, with his delicate, expressive hands and at times florid manner of speech, has spent much of his life convincing the world that he likes women – and he does like women, for example Rachel, for whom his desire has only grown over the seventeen years of their marriage.
He scowls at the phone.
‘Do fuck off,’ he says.
Florian hangs up and, for the third time that evening, goes to dial his wife. Her familiar face smiles up from the screen…it would be so nice, just to hear her voice…
No no no. Distraction, that’ll help.
He picks up his laptop and retreats to the bedroom. He navigates to Pornhub, and is immediately inundated with the usual lineup: skinny ‘barely legal’ adolescents; corpulent MILFs; cream pies and spattered tits. He clicks on a video – a woman with long, tallon-ish nails and a distinctly bored expression slides a half-hard penis in and out of her mouth.
He pauses the video and closes his eyes.
James. JAMES. He pictures the man as Rachel might be seeing him now…bare skin glistening with sweat as he whips the towel from around his waist…
Florian grits his teeth, feels his face again grow red. Is this jealousy, he wonders? This hot, sickening feeling, as if he’d been too long in the bath. As if he were Tantalus, neck-deep in water yet unable to drink, surrounded by delicacies he’ll never taste…
Hmmm, he thinks. That’s an interesting metaphor. He wonders…perhaps…
Well, it’s worth a try.
He opens his eyes again, and clicks on the search bar. Hesitantly, he types one word:
Man
The first video, ‘sexy big dick black daddy’, features a well-built individual with a truly massive erection. Florian hesitates a moment more, then clicks ‘play’.
His phone rings. He tosses the laptop to the side, picks up.
‘Hi, honey!’ he gasps.
‘Hey Flo, how’s it going?’ Rachel says, cheerful. ‘Um…are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, totally fine,’ he says, clamping the phone between shoulder and ear, wiping a sticky hand on the bedspread. ‘And how is…James?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ she says huskily. ‘I just have a moment, but I thought you might enjoy a quick report…’
Florian listens, limp but attentive. Keenly aware – for the first time – that it’s not jealousy that he’s feeling.
It’s envy.
Image: Signs for gender. Black on white from Pixabay.com
literally stories 
A twisty sordid tale of a man struggling with, or still yet incognizant of his own sexuality, whilst clearly having much sexual desire. The writing in this one is in your face, as it should be, and packs a punch.
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Hi Courtney,
It is a revelation sort of story done very well.
To be honest, I have never read anything where this doesn’t manifest itself as jealousy, rage or realisation that there is no jealousy or rage so that is all about inevitability on the death of the relationship.
I suppose it is a bit amusing when you think on it.
Excellent!!
Hugh
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Courtney
Good work. Some people are the last to learn about themselves. That has been a root for tragedy since day one. But maybe setting down the phone and getting on with it is the best thing to do.
Leila
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Courtney,
What’s worse: sexual ambiguity, envy. or jealousy. Or all at the same time. I wonder what’s with the boy going out the front door, also. I guess it’s complicated.
I lived such a simple life. Thanks for the read and not making it simple. — gerry
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Should h ave suspected but I did not. Can’t remember who said it but it was something like “Being bisexual is great. Doubles your chance of getting a date.”
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