The Secret Lives of Housewives (13 page)

“No, I don't know a thing. Maybe I'll do a little research and talk to someone in the computer store. I know your family would get a kick out of it.”

“Sounds fine to me, but I'm afraid you can't count on me to help. I probably wouldn't be able to figure it out anyway, but in addition I'm going to have trouble getting home at a decent hour over the next few weeks. I've got a big deal cooking with a brokerage firm. They might take over an entire building in White Plains.”

As Logan babbled on about his “big deal,” Cait tuned him out. A camera would add such a delicious new dimension to her chats with Hotguy.

By Friday she had bought what she needed, installed the hard- and software, and had had a picture conversation with Mary and her kids. It really was as simple as the guy who'd set it up for her said it would be. She'd just signed on, and with a few mouse clicks she'd been talking to Logan's sister, and watching as her kids played behind her. She'd called her mother-in-law and they'd marveled at the advances in technology. His mother regaled her with stories about old, five-digit phone numbers, operators, and party lines until Cait was ready to scream.

She wanted to tell Hotguy that she'd gotten the camera and let him know that she didn't look exactly like the person she'd portrayed in their chats, but she was afraid Logan might arrive home unexpectedly. If he walked in on her while she and Hotguy were chatting the old way, it only took a mouse click to shut him down, and she'd just tell Logan that she was too hot for a robe. Now, when she planned to dress in her sexiest undies and perform for the camera, it would be a lot more difficult to bail out quickly.

Logan finally called to tell her he'd be late again, and when she told him about the camera and her conversation with his mother he'd been thrilled. Anything to keep his parents happy. He informed her that he wouldn't be home until at least nine and she tried not to show how delighted she was. After a few last pleasantries, she hung up, changed into her sexiest lingerie, just in case, and logged into Paul's Place. She was bitterly disappointed to see that Hotguy344 wasn't logged on.

As she sat staring at the list of chatters, Cait wondered how things with Logan had deteriorated so much that she looked forward to the evenings when he didn't come home. She thought about Monica's sister. Was Logan fooling around? At this point in her dismal marriage she found she didn't really care. No, she thought as she watched conversations scroll down her screen, she did care, but not as a wife might care that she was being cheated on, just as a friend who cared about her husband and wondered what was going on. Friends. That's kind of what she and Logan had become.

Early in their marriage Cait had hoped to become pregnant and fill her life with children, but although she and Logan made love frequently, it didn't happen. At first, each month she was bitterly disappointed when she got her period, and when she was a day late, she secretly rejoiced, only to be let down again. They let it slide for several years, then they decided to find out why she hadn't conceived. They were tested, invaded, poked, and prodded, but the doctors could find nothing physically wrong with either of them. Although they then tried several courses of fertility treatments, everyone, including both her family and Logan's, had eventually adjusted to the fact that they weren't going to produce grandchildren and had stopped asking about it. Thank God.

Logan, however, had remained determined until about six months before, when the whole baby thing had finally come to a head. For what seemed like the dozenth time that week, Logan had moaned about not being able to give his father a grandchild, specifically a male one. “Neither of my sisters has produced a boy and I had so hoped to give my dad his first grandson.” He glared at Cait as though it were her fault, and there was a hint of desperation in his voice. “Maybe there's another doctor.”

“No more doctors, Logan!” Cait snapped, finally done with the whole thing. “I've had enough.” She stood and paced as she ranted. “No more thermometers. No more hormones.” She'd come to terms with it all, and wished Logan would just leave her alone. “No more having mandatory, strange-position sex when the ‘time is right.'” She made quote marks in the air with her fingers. “No more. Can't we just have normal sex for a change?” Strange-position sex. Several months before Logan had told her that they might have better luck with her on her knees and Logan behind. She didn't mind the position per se, but since foreplay had become almost nonexistent and in this new position Logan hardly touched her during sex, he had to use lots of lubricant. It had all become messy and impersonal. It wasn't lovemaking, it was procreation, and they didn't even have that unless it was her time to conceive. Sex with Logan had become a chore, not a pleasure.

After an hour of fighting, weeping, and cajoling, Logan finally agreed that conception would be put on hold. Since then, despite what she'd told her yoga friends, she'd been happy that there had been no sex at all for her. Except on-line.

When Hotguy344 finally logged on it was almost eight-thirty. When they were in private, she said:

Cait wondered whether it would be a good idea to give him her name but then decided to stop worrying about every little thing. What could it hurt?

Nick Montrose sat in the small booth at the gate of the trucking company where he worked, staring at the screen of his laptop. He had told her part of the truth. He did pick up extra shifts from time to time. He'd almost slipped about the time difference but he'd covered all that quite nicely, if he did say so himself.

Cait. Interesting name.
I need your last name and the city where you live.
He couldn't wait until he could see her and see everything around her, too. He'd know whatever he needed to know very soon. He continued typing.

He'd used the name Brett Sullivan before.

Gotcha. One more piece of the puzzle. Hungry, lonely women were pretty easy to manipulate. Nick smiled. Time to change the subject before she got too curious about why he wanted to know her name.
Maybe I can fog her mind a little
.
This might be a good moment to get into something a bit more kinky.

Logan? Logan Johnson. Her husband. More and more information.
Don't press it for tonight.
And maybe the 214 was her address. Or her birthday. Most people used one or the other as the number after their screen name. Patience, Nick. It would all happen in good time.

There was a pause, then she typed:

He had her. First times with him in the dominant role were especially exciting. He'd watch her initial enjoyment of being under his control. He felt his cock grow. A shame he couldn't take it out and jerk off but he never knew when a trucker would need something more from him than just waving, entering the code numbers in the log book, and opening the locked electronic gate. He put his small computer on his lap so he could feel its warmth and press the plastic against his hard-on. He might just be able to come that way.

He'd never talked quite this dirty with Loverlady214 before but he sensed she'd be up for it.

God, she was fabulously responsive. Some women he'd tried this with had been turned off. A few just logged off and he never got to chat with them again. But Cait—he loved knowing her real name—seemed to be enjoying it.

He almost typed “Open your mouth, bitch,” but he stopped himself. Not too far. Not yet. Cock, cunt, pussy. That was enough for tonight.

He paused, both for effect and to log in another eighteen-wheeler.

He waited for several moments, knowing she'd think he was too far gone to type. Actually he'd pressed the heel of his hand into his erection so hard he had cooled himself off. Finally he put his hands back on the keyboard.

Where did she think Alaska was, the moon?

Soon, they both logged off and Nick stood up to adjust his underwear. Shit. He'd have to wait for two weeks. Oh, well. He was patient, especially with such a delicious reward on the horizon. Eventually he'd know enough about Mrs. Logan Johnson of Somewhere, New York.

He couldn't wait to see her. Of course, she might turn out to be a dog and he could let go of the idea of meeting her in person. Maybe not.

A
lthough it was mid-August, the weather in East Hudson, New York was dismal, cool and gray, and threatening to rain as the four women took the same seats they always took in their booth at the diner. Eve slid in beside Cait, and after Monica wiggled over to the window, Angie settled beside her. They caught up on the now almost eleven-month-old babies, both able to walk, holding on, where they wanted to go. “They're not quite ready to strike out on their own yet. Brandon's always been the adventurous one so I think he'll be toddling before MaryLee. I don't know why I can't wait, since I know once they're totally mobile everything will get totally chaotic.”

Cait looked at Monica. “How's your sister Bonnie?”

“She's still staying at my mother's and adjusting, slowly. Jake called her during the week trying to arrange to see the kids but setting things up will take a few weeks. Right now, the kids don't want to see him.”

“That's so sad. The children are always put in the middle,” Eve said.

“I told Bonnie not to ask them to take sides. They should see their father and try to make the best of everything.”

“You're so right,” Eve said. “That's the best way to handle it.”

They placed their orders, sandwiches and diet sodas for Cait and Monica, a salad for Eve, and just a cup of tea for Angie. “It's so yucky out that it seems like hot drink weather, but no diner coffee.” They all laughed as they always did. The coffee in the diner really wasn't as bad as they made out, but it had become a running joke.

While waiting for their food, they revisited a television show that had taken a strange turn the previous evening. When the conversation slackened for a moment, Cait said, “I'm really going to miss you guys but I won't be here the next two weeks. Logan, his folks, and I are going to Paris. Actually we're leaving tonight and coming back the Sunday of Labor Day weekend.”

“Paris!” Eve said. “You're so lucky. You'll have to tell us all about it.”

“I've been meaning to tell you that I can't make it next week either,” Angie said. “I've got to dash right after class. Tony's folks are having a big barbecue, and getting the kids and Tony organized is a major project.”

“I've got a problem with Labor Day weekend,” Eve said. “My company's closed the week before Labor Day and I've got plans to visit my family back in St. Louis. I'll be back that Monday afternoon.”

For several minutes they pumped Cait about her trip and discussed all the places they'd heard about and always wanted to see. Finally their food arrived. “We'll miss you, Cait,” Monica said, “and I'll miss our foursome. I don't know about all of you”—she ducked her chin with a bit of embarrassment—“but I've really come to enjoy our little bull sessions. Our—”—she put on a thick British accent—“ladies' luncheon.” The other women giggled.

“Well,” Cait said, still smiling, “I propose that we meet at Huckleberry's on the Monday evening of Labor Day weekend. I think we all deserve a ‘girls' night out.' I know I will after spending two weeks with my in-laws. Neither Monica nor Eve will be working that day so…could you all make it?”

Huckleberry's was a local watering hole with a restaurant at one end and a sports bar at the other. “I should be able to be there,” Eve said. “Girls' night out. Sounds too good to pass up.”

“Me, too,” Monica said, “and Angie, even if you have to bring the twins, you're going to be there.”

Angie grinned and raised her hand to her forehead in a military-style salute. “Yes, ma'am. Actually, I think Tony will be able to watch them.”

“Think?” Monica said.

“Okay. Tony will watch the babies.”

“Great,” Cait said. “Okay, now down to business. We've waited long enough. Monica, tell us about Dan. I saw you two standing beside that cute little BMW Dan drives after our lunch last week. Did you two finally do the deed?”

“If by do the deed you mean sex, of course not. We did, however, spend a great afternoon at the zoo.”

“The zoo?” the three women said in unison.

Monica smiled as she remembered. “It was all totally unexpected. He waylaid me as I went to pick up my car, and kidnapped me. We had a really nice time.”

“A really nice time,” Cait snorted. “What a wimpy comment. Come on, 'fess up. We all know that he's quite a hunk. Is he a jerk?”

“Surprisingly, no. He's a really easy guy to spend time with.” She told them about their afternoon, his family, his interest in jazz. “I actually went out and bought a few CDs. Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington. It's really good stuff.”

Cait looked at Eve and Angie. “That's it. She's gone. Buying CDs of his music is just the first step but we all know where this is leading.” She raised her glass. “To those first delicious, tentative steps.” Eve and Angie clinked their glasses against Cait's while Monica's face reddened slightly.

Monica didn't mind the teasing, but she wasn't sure about how to react to what Cait had said. Had she taken some kind of first step? When Dan hadn't been in class that morning, her disappointment was much greater than she'd expected. He'd warned her, of course, when they'd talked from his hotel late the previous Wednesday evening. “They've set me up with a meeting Friday morning so I'll probably miss my flight and have to red-eye back Friday night.”

“Do you want to call off our dinner Saturday?”

“Not at all. I'm not letting you get cold feet and decide again that you're too busy or something else silly. I sleep pretty well on planes and I'll catch a nap Saturday afternoon, if I have to. I shouldn't be too much of a basket case.”

Monica returned to the present and looked at her three friends. “Dan's an unexpectedly comfortable man. I'm going to take it one day at a time and that's that.”

The women spent the next hour talking about matters as diverse as the weather, the president's current tax proposal, and the most recent developments in a sensational celebrity trial. Monica had never been much interested in TV shows or movies, but since Angie was a walking celebrity news bureau and Eve was heavily into old movies, she now paid attention to the entertainment news on TV so she could talk knowledgeably. When the time came for them to separate, the four women exchanged hugs and assured each other that they would meet at Huck's two weeks hence.

 

The first Monday in September, at exactly seven, Monica, Angie, Cait, and Eve met in the parking lot of Huckleberry's, a freestanding family restaurant in the heart of East Hudson. Although Monica hadn't been to the place often, she drove by it several times a week and had watched it evolve through its multiple ownerships.

The building had originally been built about ten years earlier to house Gringos, a Mexican restaurant. Lots of people dined there at first since TexMex food was then a novelty. Sadly for the owners, the menu was limited and the food mediocre. Gringos died within a year. Tokyo Nights, a Japanese sushi bar, never caught on and hadn't made it a full year. The building was renovated again, and Kansas City, a steak house with delusions of grandeur, opened with great fanfare but mixed reviews in the local paper. They had a steady flow of customers but not enough to grow beyond local notice, and the Sunday brunch was overpriced and didn't start until noon, long after the churchgoers were home and already fed. After the broiler in the kitchen caught fire and much of the back of the restaurant was destroyed, the building had stood empty for six months.

Then Huckleberry's Family Fare had arrived with good, uncomplicated food at reasonable prices. To lure families, the owners had redecorated the dining room, recovering the seats in the booths and the chairs in bright colors, painting the walls pale beige, adding large windows and a patio with outside tables. They had crayons and coloring books for the kids and even a small play area with a TV that played a continuous loop of cartoons. The menu consisted of almost a dozen different kinds of burgers, along with the standard, home-cooking fare that families with kids and small budgets would enjoy. They turned the far side into a sports bar with several big-screen TVs and a slightly rowdy crowd on weekend evenings. Once Monday Night Football began, Monica realized, the joint would be jumping.

Although it was toward the end of the normal dinner hour, the place was still crowded, noisy with the sounds of children playing and the TV from the bar showing some sporting event. The four women were shown to a booth at the far end of the room, and they took seats in the exact same positions they always took at the diner, Cait and Monica on the inside, Eve beside Cait and Angie beside Monica. The hostess handed them each a menu, then disappeared. “One thing I've always appreciated about this place,” Monica said, “is the height of the sides of the booths.”

“I never noticed,” Eve said, “but you're right. They're so tall that you feel kind of private and don't hear the noise as much.”

“That way we can talk about anything and not be overheard,” Cait said, making an exaggeratedly wicked face, “and we've got a lot to talk about. After all, it's been two whole weeks.”

“You're up first,” Monica said to Cait. “Tell us about your trip.”

As she took a breath, their waitress arrived dressed in the Huck's uniform, a man-tailored shirt in a hot color—hers was kelly green—and black jeans. Cait looked up and said quickly, “I want a margarita.”

“We can make it plain, strawberry, or the house special, with Cointreau and a touch of Grand Marnier.”

“I'll have the house special, frozen, with salt.”

“That sounds too good to pass up,” Monica said. “Make it two.”

Eve thought a moment, then said, “Okay, three.”

Angie said, “I really shouldn't.” A grin split her face. “What the hell? Make it four.”

“And add a plate of your house special nachos,” Monica said. The waitress made a note on her pad, then disappeared.

“You're mean,” Angie said with a grin. “Those nachos are probably four thousand calories.”

With an exaggerated wink, Monica said, “Yeah, ain't I terrible?”

Eve turned to Monica. “Before we interrogate Cait about her trip, how's your sister?”

“She's holding her own. Jake's living with his bimbo.” Monica tried to look abashed but failed. “Sorry, she's probably not a bimbo but it's difficult to think good thoughts about a woman who dates a married man.” Monica's eyes snapped to Eve who was looking embarrassed. How could she be so stupid? Eve was such a lovely soul and she'd just rubbed her face in her lifestyle. Dumb, dumb, dumb. To cover her blunder, Monica quickly said, “Okay, Cait, you're up. Tell us all about Paris.”

For several minutes Cait told them about her trip. She was a gifted speaker, bringing life to the Eiffel tower, the Louvre, and the many fabulous restaurants the family had visited. She regaled them at length with stories of their drives through wine country and a trip to Versailles.

“It sounds like you had a great time,” Angie said. “I envy you.”

Cait huffed out a breath and her shoulders dropped. “Don't,” Cait said, her voice low, her comment surprising everyone. “It was a lousy trip.”

“Why?” Eve said. Monica saw that Eve was back to her usual self, with seemingly no hangover from her insensitive remark about dating married men. “You make France sound so beautiful.”

Monica watched Cait's face cloud. “Oh, don't get me wrong, Paris was fabulous and the countryside was magnificent. It's the rest.”

She looked like she was going to cry, so Monica reached across the table and took her hand. “Hey, Cait. We don't mean to make you unhappy. This is girls' night out, fun and games. We're here if you want to talk, but if not, we'll understand, too.”

“It's the same old thing. I had hoped that while we traveled Logan would come back.”

“Back? From where?”

Cait took a deep breath. “I haven't wanted to talk about it because it makes it more real somehow, but he's not with me anymore.” The others remained silent, allowing Cait to talk at her own pace. “It's as though he's somewhere else, always deep in thought. Oh, he answers questions, talks about things, but there's a curtain between us. It's all muffled. I don't know quite how to explain it.” The three women took Cait's hands across the table. “I'm worried that he's seeing someone else and that my marriage is over.” The hands squeezed. “And I'm even more worried because I'm not sure I care anymore. Oh, I'd miss his company and his friendship, but the rest? It's like there's no love left.

“I'd hoped that while we were away from the business and in a new environment things would improve, but it was worse somehow. His parents talked, mostly to each other, and we were pretty much silent. Nothing.”

“Oh, Cait, I'm so sorry,” Angie said, and the others nodded.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Eve asked.

“Having friends like you is all the help I need right now.” She swallowed hard and blinked several times.