Thanks

"Are you almost ready, Monica, the Uber will be here soon," I said, walking into the bedroom. "Whoa," I stammered, seeing my wife's lingerie, seeing her look at herself in the mirror.

"You like?" she asked, giving a little sway with her hips.

"Um, y...yea," I said, momentarily forgetting the Uber, walking up to her, reaching for her.

"Later," she said, pulling away.

"My god, if I'd have known you were dressing up, I...I would have gotten flowers or something."

She looked at me, gave me a guilty smile. "I just wanted to look pretty for him."

"Pretty for who?" I asked, confused.

"Ben...he's going to be a the party tonight."

"B...Ben? Ben will be there? Why?"

"I asked Andrea to invite him," she said, "I want to introduce the two of you."

"You...you want to introduce us?"

"I mean, why not? I think it would be sweet, you should put a face to the name."

"In...in front of everyone?"

"Sweetie, it's not like I'm going to say, hey, meet Ben, the man I've been fucking. I'll be subtle, trust me. Just a Ben, his is my husband."

"What am I supposed to. say to him?" I asked, suddenly nervous, hands wet.

"I don't know, just use your manners. Start with hello. Maybe a thank you if it seems right."

"Thank you?"

She looked at me "He's been fucking me for two months, hon, I think a thank you from you would be appropriate."

"Shouldn't he be thanking me?" I asked.

She turned, looked at me. "He's a dominant man, they don't exactly do thank you; that's something the husband says, not the boyfriend. If the moment is right, if we're alone, which I'll try to arrange, a thank you for taking care of my wife's sexual needs would be appropriate. Set the tone."

"The tone?"

"The tone. That you know and accept."

I was going to argue, she saw it, stopped me with a look. "Don't," she said. "Don't say it. It's actions that matter, not words."

"Monica..."

"Actions." 

I knew what she meant, I knew exactly what she meant. What I did. Not what I said, but what I did. Every Saturday when she came home from a date with him, when I waited up, welcomed her back, undressed her, helped her to bed, and reclaimed her. Not by entering her, he forbid that, but more intimately, kissing her, licking her, accepting her and everything he left inside her.

"Does...does he know...I mean...what...does he..."

She smirked. "Of course he know," she said. "Which is why your thanks will be so meaningful."