Asking

"Call him? Jess, I...I can't," I said to my wife.

She gave me that look, that, I get anything I want look, I was terrible at resisting. "Hon, please, I know it's humiliating, I get that, but...but he...it's reasonable he wants some assurance."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know...just be honest."

"Honest? I'm supposed to just call him and tell him I want him to sleep with my wife?"

She shrugged. "That's a start," she said.

"A start?"

"I think...I don't know...maybe why?"

"Why?"

"You know," she said, coming closer to me, touching my arm, leaning into me, whispering in my ear, "like, I'm not very good in the bedroom and always fantasized about leaving those things to a real man."

"Jess!"

"Like I said, just be honest," she said.

"Jess, I...I can't," I moaned.

"Hon, please," she said, "I...I want to...I know I didn't at first, but I really want to...don't you, too?"

"I...I suppose," I said, even thought I wanted it more than anything.

"Then he has to hear it from you," she said. "Men like that are...conscious of roles; he needs to know you'll...accept him as the man...that you'll defer...that you'll submit."

"Jess," I said weakly.

"I know," she said, touching my face, "I know...but if this is what you want, you have to call him, ask him. Please, baby, for me...for us."