Reluctant Cuckold by David McManus

I had everything ready and laid out.
     
    “This looks great,” she said as she sat down across from me.
     
    “How was your day?” I asked.
     
    “Well, better than yesterday. It seems like accounting has eased up a bit and is going to approve a slightly scaled back budget on the convention.”
     
    “That’s cool,” I replied, “you’re OK with that?”
     
    “Yeah, it’s just the whole jumping through hoops nonsense,” she said, “I mean …”
     
    Suddenly a huge black bug came screaming through the window, landing on the hardwood floor nearby. We were all frozen for a moment—me, Ashley and this big fat water bug. The bug seemed as freaked out as we were, sitting motionless, like it had just survived a kamikaze mission.
     
    Ashley shrieked, “Oh my freaking God, Dave, do something!”
     
    The bug made a lightning fast beeline right for the sofa.
     
    I hustled into the bedroom and came back with a shoe.
     
    “It’s under the couch,” Ashley screamed. “What’s that going to do?”
     
    “I’ll get the Raid,” I said, and ran into the kitchen.
     
    Ashley pulled back the couch as it headed under our bookcase. “Oh my God,” she said, “Did you see that? That thing was flying . God, this is so freaking disgusting.”
     
    “I’ll get it,” I said, spraying under the bookcase.
     
    “You’re getting it on all the books!”
     
    “I’m trying, Ash.”
     
    I saw what Ashley meant as the Raid drove the bug out. It could kind of fly. Not like a bee—more like a bloated dirigible attempting to get off the ground. It rose several inches before hitting the counter and flying a few inches more. When it stopped briefly on the counter’s edge, Ashley slammed it with a magazine.
     
    She recoiled, muttering, “That is so gross.”
     
    It had left a disgusting mess—white splattered goop and black bug body parts. I grabbed paper towels and used the disinfectant wipes Ashley handed me.
     
    She was shutting the window when I returned from the living room. “What happened to the screens you said you were getting?” she asked.
     
    “Yeah,” I said, “I’m going to get them now.”
     
    “Dave, it’s already August.”
     
    “Yeah,” I said, “but we’re on the eleventh floor. It’s not like we’ve had bugs before.”
     
    “What did Jimmy say about construction across the street—that residents are signing up for the exterminator?”
     
    “Ashley, I know what the doorman said, but we’re up high. This was an anomaly.”
     
    “Anomaly? So, you analyzed the percentages? Being on the eleventh floor trumped what he said? Based on your analytics, we don’t need screens?”
     
    “Hey baby,” I said, “calm down. I’m sorry, I will get the screens taken care of. It freaked me out as well. But it’s over now. Let’s just sit back down and have some dinner.”
     
    “Go for it,” she said, “I’m done, I lost my appetite.”
     
    “Can I get you something else instead?”
     
    “No, really, I’m fine. I’m not hungry anymore.”
     
    She told me she’d be on her laptop in the bedroom.
     
    That fucking bug , I thought as I sat alone on the sofa. Of all the windows in New York City to kamikaze through, this freaking bug had to chose mine—and just as we were starting dinner.
     
****
     
    I wasn’t looking forward to joining her later in the bedroom. I was bracing for an “If only you had put that screen in like you said you would” type comment.
     
    Instead she said, “Sorry I was such a bitch tonight. That bug really freaked me out.”
     
    “I understand,” I said. “I will have those screens in by this weekend.”
     
    “No rush now. It’s supposed to turn hot again tomorrow. It doesn’t look like open-the-window kind of weather for the next week. Sorry I made such a big deal. It’s just my bug phobia.”
     
    She motioned for me to lie beside her, and I quickly joined her.
     
    “Well,” I said, putting my arm around her, “that was one nasty bug.