Goody Two Shoes (25 page)

But he saves me, “Alrighty then, happy driving!”  And he grabs his keys and grins at me from the back door before he leaves.

As soon as the door closes I laugh.  Oh what a man I’m trying so hard to keep!  It makes me wonder about my sanity altogether.  I sit back down at the table and enjoy my Anniversary breakfast alone.

“Well… I mean… it’s something,” Patty holds her hand over her mouth to restrain her laughter.  We’re all standing in her front yard staring at my new van.

Kelly Kellar, as in Dr. Stephan Kellar, is here this morning and I can’t help but notice her Freebird attitude.  The Peace sign on her tight tee shirt is highlighted by perky nipples, and she’s rocking a pair of Jerusalem slides that I suspect have really seen Jerusalem.  “We could take the seats out, black out the windows and get one of those license plates that say, ‘If the van’s rockin,’ don’t come knockin’?”

I study her naturalist ways, but since Patty’s driveway is filled with expensive sports cars, I know that one of them has to be hers.  My guess is that it smells like beef jerky and hamburgers too.  Between Bonnie’s Audi R8, and Terry’s Porche Carrera, I see a black Range Rover Hybrid.  Well that answers that question.  And lucky me, this fine minivan is mine!  I sigh and Patty wraps her arm around me, “You still have the only car big enough to carry us all to the sex toy store.”

“Not much of a consolation,” I mutter with a ridiculous laugh.  The absurdity of the minivan is completely lost on Simmons.  The fact that I’d like to drive around in something sexier is just too far from his realm of understanding.  The concept of ‘me’ doesn’t add up to anything sexual in his mind.  It’s depressing that he considers me this way, and I’ve changed my hair, my nails, my clothes… you name it, it’s been plucked or shaved.  All for what?  A minivan, that’s what.

“Burr, you know, it’s getting chilly now!” Bonnie wraps her arms around her own shoulders as she looks at the dark clouds in the sky above.

“Yeah, let’s get inside.  Who wants to help me make a pitcher of Bamaslammers?”  Patty cheers.  I know she feels bad for me and she didn’t even seem surprised at the new van.  That’s the beauty of a best friend; nothing really shocks them.

Yet my surprises of the day don’t seem to be over and it hits me squarely in the face as I walk into Patty’s living room with a pitcher of alcohol laden pink froth in my hand.  Kelly’s Peace shirt is on the floor beside the sofa, and Terry is kissing her nipples provocatively, taking turns between them.  I hesitate at the edge of the sofa, what do to?  Should I give them some privacy or sit down and pour a drink and watch?

Terry peers at me from Kelly’s bare chest, “Oh yesssss, pour me one of those will ya?”

So I sit down on the sofa across from them and pour the frosty pink liquid into a glass and pass it to her outstretched hand.  I watch as she takes a mouthful and puts her lips directly back onto Kelly’s nipples.  “Hey!  That’s cold!” Kelly protests with a giggle and squirm.

“Alright now!  What’s this?”  The deep voice booms from the hallway, and I’m startled from my fascination to see Steve walking towards the sofa in his socks and boxer shorts.  He reaches down and pulls hard on the nipple that Terry isn’t torturing.  “Well hello Tara, good to see you,” And he steps over and pecks me on the forehead as if we’re at a casual luncheon.

“Hey Steve,” I say, feeling awkwardly like a teenager whose parent just walked in.  Okay, I shouldn’t think of my best friend’s husband this way, but he’s a good bit older than Patty, and it just has always seemed… I don’t know… creepy.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Steve.  He’s great for Patty, just not my type, a little too heavy on the Charleston lawyer style for my taste.  Then again, my taste is a guy who buys his wife a sexy new mini-van for their Thirtieth Anniversary.  I think it’s apparent that my taste in men may not be reliable.

“What’s Simmons up to today?” he asks, though his eyes are scanning my bare thighs.

“Golf,” I answer plainly.

“Golf?  I didn’t know he played golf.  I’ll have to call him up to hit some balls with me sometime.”  Steve sits down on the sofa next to me and watches Kelly and Terry with intensity.

I frown, “Don’t you see him at the golf club all the time?  He’s over there every damn day?”  Angst was building within me at the speed of lightening.  It’s that singularly terrifying moment when you know you’re about to hear something that will change your life.

“Oh well, I usually go over to Charleston National.  Can’t risk humiliating myself in front of too many people you know.”  His response is sturdy but I already know that he plays the Bull’s Bay course too.  If he hadn’t seen Simmons there then… Simmons wasn’t there.

At this point you’re going to expect me to break down in tears I know.  And it may be fuzzy proof, that’s true, but there it is.  Simmons isn’t at the golf club and he hasn’t been there in a long time.  But you see, somehow magically I negotiate the facts.  I’ve been cheating on him, and apparently he’s been cheating on me, doesn’t that make us even?  An eye for an eye kind of Solomon solution?  In my mind it balances, astonishing but it does, so I force my lips into a smile, “Oh well, guess you’ve missed him somehow.”  You see I’m not willing to announce, even in semi-public, that my husband is cheating on me.  That would make me a failure.  It’s one thing to fail at something new, but I’ve been in this marriage for thirty years.  You’d think I’d have the hang of it by now.  The answer at the moment is to drink heavily.

As I sip my Bamaslammer intent on amnesia, Patty prances into the room in bare feet.  She slides seductively into Steve’s lap, thus rescuing me from further humiliation.  Because I know the shock registered on my face when he’d blurbed that he hadn’t seen Simmons at the club.  I’d like to think I covered it up fairly fast, but I’m not that good at covering my emotions.  Even with the truce I’ve reached in my mind, I’m not going to deny the fact that the thought of another woman touching my husband repels me.  So as I watch the sensual show Terry and Kelly are displaying on the opposite sofa, my mind drifts to the men of my training.  The men who’ve brought my body back to life.

The absurdity of my thoughts doesn’t pass me by.  I have to force my mind to think of the men instead of the pain in my heart.  A few of them have made quite an impression on me:  The man on top of me when I was blindfolded, for instance.  He’d taken me to heights I didn’t know existed.  So much so that I desperately wanted him again, maybe without the blindfold next time?  The men in the bathroom at Jonathon’s bar… oh they’d been precious!  But all these men have wives… these wives.

Bonnie strolls into the room and plops down on the armrest next to me.  We’re all fascinated with Terry’s lips trailing down Kelly’s stomach and barely notice her joining us.  But I do notice her and look up, “Can I ask you something?”

Her hand goes to my shoulder, “What’s on your mind?”

I warm at her touch; it’s friendly and lets me know she supports me.  “I was just wondering who your husband is?”

She laughs, “Hey ya’ll, Tara has her mind set on figuring out who the men are in training!”

Even Kelly and Terry chuckle, though Kelly’s shorts are halfway down her thighs now.  “What’s so funny?” I ask, annoyed that Bonnie announced it to everyone.

She one arm hugs me, and Patty’s toes wriggle across the couch and tickle my calf.  “Honey, we’ve all been there.  There was a day when I was absolutely sure that Steve here was my mystery lover!  Give it up; you’ll make yourself crazy trying to figure it out.  But that’s not really what this is about now is it?”

I shake my head, because although the men have been wonderful to me, what I really need to know is how they justify their husband’s fucking another woman, particularly me.

Still cuddled in Steve’s arms, Patty smiles at me, “What you want to know is how I feel about Steve touching another woman, isn’t it?”

Again I nod, too embarrassed to say the words.  You’d think by now, and while watching two women make love across from me on the sofa, that shyness would be all but a memory.  I’m here to tell you, it never goes away.

She laughs a little, “Okay Goody, before you have another breakdown, this is where
we
are in our relationship.  Everyone has something sexual that turns them on; things that may be construed by others as odd.  Some of us like to share our husbands.  It turns us on.  But with you it may be something totally different and you aren’t interested in sharing.  That’s fine, you won’t be asked to share.  Who knows, we can always hope you’ll try it at some point, but we’d never pressure you.”

And Bonnie chirps in from over my shoulder, “No we wouldn’t.  And if and when I find a new husband, I probably won’t share for a while myself.”

“Poor fucker will be too worn out to do anyone but you,” Steve laughs and Patty licks his lips as he speaks.  Honestly get a room.  Yeah, and that does mean I’m jealous of them pecking and pawing at one another like newlyweds.  Any minute now they’re going to drop their drawers and get on with it, and that’s really going to piss me off.  Maybe the shock of hearing that my husband isn’t where he’s said he was for the past year hadn’t passed over me as much as I’d thought.  What if he’s panting and pawing over some woman right now, just like they are?  My blood begins to boil at the thought.

“And some people get off on being watched!” Terry fusses from the other sofa, sticking out her bottom lip as she looks up from Kelly’s fur.

Steve laughs and dumps Patty onto the couch as he stands.  I watch in awe as he walks around the coffee table and perches on the edge of the sofa next to Kelly’s naked body.  Vagina and Clitoris are both startled from their dreams as Steve’s fingers slide inside Kelly’s body just beneath Terry’s tongue.  Steam fills my veins and I stand up awkwardly, “I’ve got to go!” I whisper and run for the safety of my minivan.

As my van races for home, tears stream down my face until the entire neckline of my shirt is damp. 
I can’t let this defeat me, I can’t let her win!
 I chant to myself as I drive through the winding country roads.  The bottom line is that I want what Patty and Steve have, and by damn it if they can restore that mess of a marriage they had, then so can I.  It’s time to flex my muscles and start making my marriage work instead of whining about it all the time.  I switch my train of thought towards hope and change.  If I have a prayer of turning this around I’d better get started.  I can steal him back from this mystery woman and I know it!  I need to think… plan.

And the next morning I am up early to get started.  After verifying that he’s still snoring in his recliner, I slip down into the garage with a bottle of my perfume in hand.  The ‘door open’ sound emanates as soon as I open his car door, but I spray five good shots of perfume into the interior before shutting the door and stopping the noise.  I don’t want to get caught,
just adding a few subtle reminders of ‘Goody Two Shoes’ wife…
I snicker with a sinister tone as I head back inside.

After fixing a pot of coffee I go back to my bedroom and put my latest toy store purchase square in the middle of the bed.  It’s the most powerful thing they’d had other than a Sybian, and if I’d spent fifteen hundred dollars on a Sybian, my secrets would be divulged on the credit card bill.  Nevertheless, my new gadget is so powerful that mere batteries can’t support it. 
No
, this baby needs to be plugged in. 
Power tools,
Clitoris giggles.  She’s no longer deaf and mute by the way; some mystery man in Jonathon’s upstairs bedroom had roused her from her neglected soul and she’s quickly rivaling her sister for attention.

I also decide to throw my clean freak talents out the window, well okay, maybe not the majority of them, but I leave my scanty new red panties on the floor in the middle of the bathroom.  On second thought, I push them towards the wall, you know, so they don’t look staged. 
Just a few subtle reminders to dear old Simmons that his wife is still alive and kicking.
  The perfume in his car is to remind his girlfriend of the same.

That’s right; I’m a woman on a mission!  The rest of the week is spent acquiring a new wardrobe and lingerie.  I took Patty with me on the lingerie excursion to ensure I didn’t come home with flannel.  Actually she’d insisted on coming with me.  To her credit, she didn’t ask about my behavior at her house on Saturday.  That’s the beauty of a best friend; you never have to explain.  But after careful consideration, I’ve decided not to criticize myself anymore.  All I’m doing is beating myself up.  It’s a better plan to try to change my situation rather than let it absorb me.  It’s sink or swim time, and this bitch is paddling!

Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.

-Saint Francis of Assisi

The Tramp Stamp Club

By Quinn Carmichael

Remodeling

Writing for Ellen Devereux hasn’t been a picnic.  Not that she’s difficult to work with; she’s not.  Most writers aren’t.  They already know what they want you to find out and are eager to get you to their revelation.  But that’s not my issue, I’m used that.   It’s the diversity of her household that’s a bit much for me.  And it’s caused me to spend hours in retrospection.  So much so in fact that I made a list of pros and con’s for joining the Club.  Jonathon has made a few comments that seem ridiculous to me, yet no matter how hard I’ve pressed him, he won’t release his source(s).  I just don’t see how he can assure me with confidence that if I drag my wife down here to meet them that I’m not headed for divorce court.  He knows something, and I’m damned and determined to find out what it is.