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Vam005

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PERSON_PROFILE

Just as I was getting ready to buy some sexual toys for our wedding night, I learned that my new husband was gay.
“Nicky Lennox couldn’t possibly have a wife. He was literally just in here with some hot blonde guy this morning.” the salesgirl told me, showing me a security camera video.
Apollo, my husband's partner, dropping down to his knees and drawing Nicky's shaft out of his pants only to swallow it eagerly down his throat as Nicky leaned back casually against the wall.
My stomach hurt, twisting so painfully.
I should’ve known it was too good to be true.
After all, I only had been married for three days. It would be easy to get an annulment. And we hadn’t even slept together.
But it's not as simple as I thought...
————————
Starling
My heart hammering with excitement, I opened the black velvet doors and walked nervously inside the Pleasure Palace.
I had never been in one before, but what was a newlywed to do to make her wedding night special? Technically, of course, the wedding night had been three nights ago, but my husband was so busy with putting on a new play at his theater that we hadn’t smooched beyond a quick peck or had intercourse yet. And I wanted to change that.
The only problem was, the more days that passed, the more nervous I got.
I passed by the intimidating selection of toys, and went to the lingerie section.
What would please a rich, classy, cultured man like my husband?
My hands ran over black lace and silky garters.
Would he think these were all cheap? Was this stuff high-end enough?
I had relied on the same few dark pantsuits for the four months I had known him, and he didn’t need to know that really my taste tended to be more earthy and hippie.
“Are you shopping for someone special?” the pink-haired woman behind the sales counter asked.
“My husband,” I said, blushing ridiculously, even though I was fully 25 years old and absolutely not a virgin.
“Oh, congratulations!” she said brightly. “Did you get married on the beach here?”
“Oh, no, just at the courthouse,” I said. “Nicky thought a small wedding would be the most romantic.”
“Nicky?” she asked. “Nicky who?”
I felt my cheeks pink with pleasure, my pulse beginning to thrum with pride in the man I was head-over-heels in love with.
“I’m Mrs. Nicky Lennox,” I said, trying to sound modest.
Since we lived in the theater district of St. Angeles, almost everyone around here knew him.
Nicky was so rich and owner of the biggest, most luxurious theater in town.
And for the last four months I had been the Office Manager at the First Avenue Playhouse (always just called The First). Overawed by my job, I tried to tamp down my normally bubbly personality into something lowkey and professional for my first proper workplace. I thought my gorgeous hot boss was totally indifferent to me until the last week when he asked me to marry him.
Magnetic and masterful, Nicky was not the sort of man you said no to.
And I didn’t want to. I had jumped at the idea of marrying him, my eyes too full of stars to question anything.
“Nicky Lennox?” the sales rep laughed. “He doesn’t have a wife!”
I felt a little stab of annoyance, but it was swamped by my joy and pride in my husband.
“He does now!” I caroled happily. She was probably just jealous, like everybody else would be when they found out.
What could be more exciting than the way he had asked me to marry him and whirled me to City Hall only three days later?
I thought I had been hiding the fact that I had a huge crush on him, but apparently he knew all along.
It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me in my life, but for the first time a flicker of unease trickled down my spine.
The saleslady was going on.
“He couldn’t possibly have a wife,” she said. “Nicky Lennox is gay. He was literally just in here with some hot blonde guy this morning.”
“It must have been just a friend—” I started weakly.
She shook her head.
“I’m not supposed to do this, but you’re so sad and delusional I kind of have to.”
She motioned her coworker over, who was a pretty Latina with a nose piercing.
“This chick is in here saying she’s married to Nicky Lennox. Can you pull up that security camera footage of him from this morning?”
We all crowded around the monitor.
Surely there must be some mistake. Some misinterpretation.
A case of mistaken identity?
He was married to me. He had insisted on a fast wedding, like he couldn’t bear to be apart from me any longer.
But he was immediately identifiable on the screen.
Who could ever mistake Nicky? He stood out even in looks and status-obsessed St. Angeles.
“Look at that picture quality,” I said weakly. “Really sharp.”
Tall, lean, dark wavy hair, cultured gorgeous face with sharp high cheekbones, curved and mysterious mouth, those unusual and arresting gray eyes with flashes of emerald green.
And I recognized the guy with him, too. Apollo Eriksson, the star of the next play.
Any hope that this was just a misunderstanding was eliminated by the way they went into the dressing room, Apollo dropping down to his knees and drawing my husband’s shaft out of his pants only to swallow it eagerly down his throat as Nicky leaned back casually against the wall.
“I guess we should blur this out,” one of the women said.
“It’s hot, though,” the other said. “He’s switch, by the way. I’ve seen him around down doing all sorts of things.”
My stomach hurt, twisting so painfully I thought I might throw up all over their artfully distressed jeans.
I tried to smile and act like I’d just been mistaken in my own husband’s name, even though inside I was dying with shame and embarrassment.
I should’ve known it was too good to be true.
After all, I had been married for three days and Nicky and I still hadn’t had intercourse.
Why would he do this?
Why marry me just to humiliate me?
What did I ever do to deserve this?
I guess this is why he was ‘too busy’ on our wedding night, I thought numbly as I watched him release down Apollo’s throat and keep thrusting.
Well, screw Nicky. I felt dumb. I knew I should have run the whole ‘whirlwind courtship’ by my friends back home.
Now what was I supposed to do?
I bought some edible underpants and slunk away.
Not knowing what else to do, I took my car back to his mansion.
It was perfectly situated to look out over rolling California hills and the St. Angeles theater district.
Why would gorgeous, unattainable Nicky Lennox need to marry me, his cheerful little Office Manager? If he was gay it sure wasn’t for my big papillae or hip. It wasn’t for my money.
I had moved here from Idaho and I was broke before I met him. Part-time yoga instructor, part-time ceramics instructor, part-time fortune-teller. Then I got tired of being full-time broke with no health insurance, which is why I had applied for the job of his Office Manager.
My phone buzzed and I looked down to see a message from my new husband.
Dinner with my dad at 7
I left an outfit for you to wear
Car will be around to pick you up
Is that what this was about?
I had been in my blissful floating newlywed haze, amazed that someone like Nicky Lennox would even look at me, but I remembered something vaguely about how his father was much older, a man in his late 70s while Nicky was only 36.
My father-in-law had not been at our City Hall wedding, because he “didn’t get out much in society” and “was quite old-fashioned.”
Nicky had told me we would be visiting him a few days after the wedding.
But now I knew that everything he said was nonsense, horrified awareness sung in my mind.
Why in the world was I, a certified grime queen and hippie, the chosen beard for an unbearably good-looking and impeccably dressed theater owner?
I ran up the spiraling staircase to my room, past all the expensive artwork and tasteful Grecian statues that I thought meant I’d gotten a dream husband.
But now it was more like a nightmare.
When Nicky told me there were plenty of rooms, enough for us to have our own bedrooms, I was thrilled. Mine was huge and gorgeous, with enormous bright windows and a balcony. But now I realized why I had my own bedroom.
So he could more easily avoid having intercourse with me.
How long exactly was he planning to pull this? Did he really think I’d be so blinded with infatuation that I wouldn’t notice when months went by without him wanting to have intercourse?
Well, I sure I wasn’t going to sit and play nice for this dinner.
I was going to demand an easy annulment tonight and then go out and screw the first himbo I saw at a bar.
After all, that’s what my husband was presumably doing.
Everything would be easy.

Vam005

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