The Husband SitterBy: Jessa Kane
It takes no time at all to reach Mrs. Blue’s house, and while I wish I had more time inside the limousine, I’m eager to find out what awaits me. The house is different in style from Mrs. Black’s. The Blue residence is extremely modern. The hedges are meticulously trimmed in various shapes, surrounded by rock gardens. Black granite steps lead to a door of fogged glass, which opens as I approach.
“Hello, Astrid,” Mrs. Blue says, sweeping forward and wrapping me in a hug. Today she’s wearing a bright red head wrap and a loose, black, ankle-length dress. She smells so incredible and her energy is so clean when she hugs me, I can do nothing but snuggle close and inhale. “I’m so glad you’re here early. The longer I waited, the more nervous I started to get.”
“That I wouldn’t come?”
“Oh, I knew you would come.” She steps back and looks me over with appreciation. “I’m just a little jittery now that the time has come.”
I reach inside myself for calm. Remembering how I was able to project emotions into Mr. Black yesterday, I attempt the same now, pushing my calm into Mrs. Blue and watch her eyelids flutter, her shoulders sag.
“My goodness,” she breathes. “Are you doing that?”
“Yes. I didn’t know I could until yesterday.”
She takes my hand and leads me inside, her attention still locked on me. “That’s quite a gift, Astrid. We’re so lucky we found you.” We enter the foyer and turn left, moving into a brightly lit kitchen and dining area, complete with water streaming down the wall and a floor-to-ceiling fish tank. “Mr. Blue will be down in a moment. We’ve spoken about what’s going to happen today. We’ve been speaking about it for weeks, in fact,” she says on a laugh. “I was hoping to give you a better understanding of…my hopes and expectations, if that’s okay.”
This woman is so genuine. Even on the compound it was rare to find someone with such a lack of guile, and I’m as relaxed in her presence as I was during the massage this morning. “I would love that.”
She nods. “Watching my husband with another woman has been a dark, secret fantasy of mine for a long time and I’ve reached a place in my life where I’m confident enough to embrace what I want without fear or shame.” A beat passes. “This isn’t just for me, though. Mr. Blue is a formal NFL player, you see. A very successful one—you might even recognize him.”
“We didn’t have television where I grew up,” I say.
“I see.” She pats my hand. “Well, he’s quite well known, and in his glory days, he was showered in attention and accolades. He’s my best friend and we have a wonderful marriage, but it’s very hard for an athlete of his caliber to go from the spotlight to a quiet life. All the fans and cheers fade away. I’m hoping…well, I wonder if someone like you might be able to give him a boost in that department.”
The blood in my veins pumps with purpose. “I can try.”
“Excellent,” she responds, pulling me in for a quick squeeze. “Now, don’t be alarmed if the next time you see me, I’m an angry, jealous wife. That’s going to be part of the fun, isn’t it?’
Her excitement is infectious, and I find myself laughing as she shoulders her purse and starts to leave the kitchen.
“Oh, Astrid. I almost forgot.” She points to a hallway just off the dining area. “The bathroom is the second door on your right. I’ve left you something to wear.”
With that, Mrs. Blue leaves the kitchen, the front door of the house closing a moment later. I turn in a circle to absorb the nature theme of the kitchen, before venturing down the hallway. Inside the bathroom, I find an outfit on the counter, but I’ve never seen anything like it. A very short, pleated white skirt and a tight, matching top that says Falcons across the breasts. With a shrug, I take off my clothes and don the outfit, finger comb my hair and leave the bathroom.
Mr. Blue is inside the kitchen when I return, and I glide to a stop, my breath catching at the sheer size of him. Oh my God. He’s at least six foot nine. His shoulders are the width of the refrigerator he stands in front of. Like Mrs. Blue, his skin is a very deep brown, offsetting the gray hair silvering his temples.