That first job was pretty intense at the time. Looking back, it was actually average. The monsters (I still can’t get used to calling them that) weren’t especially easy but neither were they hard to deal with. Do enough physical damage and they die. Some of the things that The Sim has come up with are damned near indestructible and you have to just avoid the bastards.

Tommy (yes I call him Tommy. Meg was right, I like the guy) added me to his regular crew and we pulled a few more jobs. I lost my cherry, as Tommy calls it – I got killed In Sim. It hurt. Got my throat ripped out by some troll looking thing. Aside from the pain, it wasn’t a big deal. I woke up on the boat, in bed. Worst part about it (well aside from the very real fear as that fucker’s teeth closed around my windpipe) was the pro-rate of my paycheck. You only get paid for that portion of the job you complete. That and the boredom sitting around the boat because my wife was off on a job.

I really hate that she has to do what she does. She handles it pretty well, but I can see that it’s changed her. Not in any horrible way or anything, but maybe made her a little harder, less easy-going.

She’s cut down on the number of straight entertainment gigs, but that’s what The Sim keeps putting in her queue so it’s not like she’s got a lot of choice in the matter.

When we’re together, we’ve established a quite delightful routine. We sleep in and have our morning caffeine on the, I don’t know the nautical term, veranda outside of our cabin.

As usual, Meg woke up before me. I rolled out of bed and put my robe on. It was just a little bit cool, enough that a thin layer was just perfect. I could hear her out on the veranda making her tea. I stretched and walked out behind her. I’ve always moved pretty quietly and she was focused on what she was doing so she jumped a bit when I came up behind her and put my arms around her.

“Oh!” she gasped.

The gasp quickly turned into an appreciative moan as I nuzzled her neck and ear.

“Mmmmm.”

I opened her robe and enjoyed the feel of her smooth skin under my hands.

“Jesus, and I thought you were horny at 50, thank God I didn’t know you when your were 20, I don’t know if my pussy could have handled it. You’re horny all the time!”

I knew she wasn’t really complaining ‘cause she was grinding her ass back against my erection.

“Stop!” she giggled. “No really, stop, I got a text from Tom we need to discuss. Go sit down and I’ll finish making your coffee.”

I sat on the curved sofa type seating along the rail, mock grumbling about blue-balls, and watched her move. She didn’t refasten her robe, and I knew that was for my benefit, a peace offering maybe for shutting me down. Or more likely her enjoying the tease to keep my motor running. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.

She poured my coffee. It didn’t take much fixing, I like it black.

“OK, what’s your ex-boyfriend’s excuse for ruining my morning nookie?” I asked in my grumpy old man voice.

She and Tom had a friends-with-benefits thing going on before I got uploaded. Once I got to know Tom, it stopped bothering me, but I like to pretend it does sometimes to needle her.

“Because you were celibate after I died, right?” she snorted.

“Sex with a septuagenarian isn’t the same.”

“Hey, that’s not my fault that I’m a better lay. Don’t forget it!” she trumped, winning the point.

She walked over with our drinks and I thoroughly enjoyed the view. She kissed me on the top of my head and sat down next to me. I took a sip of coffee and once again marveled at how good it was.

“Ok babe, what’s up?” I asked.

She folded her legs up underneath her and sipped her tea.

“Tommy wants us to come by his place to talk about a contract,” she said.

“Tommy just wants an excuse to see you in a bikini,” I replied, laughing.

“Probably,” she giggled. “Does that bother you?”

“Honestly? No, not at all. Now that I know him, it really doesn’t. Blow his mind, skip the bikini.”

“You don’t think that might send the wrong message?” she asked.

“What message you send is up to you babe,” I replied. “Your body, your decisions. I like Tommy, I like Tommy at least as much as I liked our former FWB and if a…change in how we all relate to one another would please you, then not only am I OK with it, I’m all for it. You’ve got the shitty end of the stick here and I’m in favor of anything that makes that easier.”

And I was. I’m not bi, I don’t want to have sex with Tom, or any other guy for that matter. The idea doesn’t repulse me, but it doesn’t excite me either. When we were alive and still (relatively) young, we engaged in more than a few three-ways with men and women. I liked it, including the male ones. Not that I wanted to have sex with the guy, but watching the guy fuck Meg was a huge turn-on.

That’s my dirty secret. I like that my wife is hot and has a slutty side. No idea why. I’ve met people into the cuckold thing, nope. Not me. Some asshole tries to humiliate me in that situation I’m probably going to beat the shit out of him. Maybe it’s that she has all these guys who want her and she chooses me? Dunno, but whatever it is, I’m fine with it, as long as she still wants to go home with me at the end of the day.

Now 2 women…well, what’s not to like about that scenario?

“Apparently the person initiating the contract is Ani, remember her?” Meg said, changing the subject, which meant she needed to think about it.

Speaking of 2 women…

“Our first treasure hunt, how can I forget,” I replied. “And she had a great ass.”

“Her tits were even better, but then you wouldn’t know that cause you didn’t see them,” Meg smirked, trumping me yet again.

Don’t try to verbally joust with Meg. It’s a losing proposition but fun none-the-less.

“Yes, her,” Meg went on. “Meat World time, I think it’s been 6 months? She’s young. I didn’t think from the time I spent with her that she had the kind of money to be able to afford coming to The Sim that often.”

“When does he want us?”

“Ten,” she said. “So finish your coffee and get dressed.”