The Secret Lives of Housewives (22 page)

“I need to talk to you now.”

Mike kissed her deeply, gently massaging the back of her neck, making purring sounds against her lips. He buried his face in her neck and whispered, “Later,” as he nibbled at her ear.

“But…”

He unbuttoned her blouse and slid it down her arms, then kissed his way from her throat to her cleavage. “No buts.”

She was lost. She wanted him. Why should she deny herself? If it wasn't her it would be someone else. Why should she make the sacrifice? She enfolded him in her arms, and later, when his cock was moving deep between her breasts, she kissed the head as it approached her mouth. She stomped on the little voice that whispered about his wife.

 

When Monica started to say something, Angie stopped her. “I understand,” Angie said. “I think we all do. You have to do what you need to do to make you happy. Everyone has his or her own path and whatever yours is, we're with you.”

Monica sighed deeply. Angie was right. What right did she have to judge anyone else's way of doing things? How would Dan judge her relationships with clients to get more lucrative business for C & B? “Angie's right, Eve. Do what makes you happy and we'll give you as much support as you want.”

“That means a lot coming from you,” Eve said to her. “You've always been my worst critic where Mike's concerned.”

“I'm sorry if I've seemed judgmental. Coming from someone who doesn't have the courage to tell Dan about my life, how in the world can I say anything about you and Mike?”

“We all are who we are, no more and no less,” Angie said. “The wonderful part of our group is that we can freely be our real selves. I don't mean to say that we'll support each other in everything. We all have our own opinions on everything, and we don't hesitate to voice them, but it's because we care.”

“Amen to that,” all four voices said together as they joined hands.

T
he ensuing week sped by and again the following Saturday the four women met for lunch after yoga class. As soon as they were seated, Eve asked, “How did the twins' birthday party go?” Cait couldn't help noticing that Angie sat up a bit straighter and she hoped that she'd had something to do with Angie's newfound confidence. Although Angie had pulled her hair back into its normal ponytail, wisps of bangs softened her face. She also wore a bit of light lipstick.

“It was a total success.” With a wide smile, she whipped out about a dozen pictures, three of cake-covered babies being hovered over by adoring relatives. As the women raved over the twins, Angie related all the details of the celebration.

“What about you?” Monica asked. “You look just great in these photos. What did your family say about the new you?”

“No one commented on my new look directly but several women said how healthy I seemed. ‘It must be finally getting out from under babyhood,' one woman said. I guess the changes are subtle enough that people think I just look better, especially those who don't see me that often.”

“How about Tony's parents?”

Angie beamed. “They were really nice. They fussed over the twins so much that I barely saw my babies all weekend. They took them shopping and I think they bought out Baby Gap. I can't imagine there was anything left in their size when Barry and Marie got finished. Tony and I actually got some alone time together.” She sounded really up.

“Sounds like things are going well with you and Tony,” Eve said.

“They are. Cait,” Angie said, turning toward her friend, “having the van has made a tremendous difference. I don't have to bug Tony about errands over the weekends, and because I've been easier to get along with, he's been taking more initiative with the kids. He takes them out Sunday mornings by himself. It might only be for an hour and I think he just drives around, but it's the thought and effort that count. An hour of peace and quiet for me is an amazing stimulant for both of us.” She leered when she said the word “stimulant.”

“You mean sex is good?” Eve said.

“Well, it's better, anyway.” Angie half-stood at her end of the booth and reached over and grasped Cait's shoulders. “I can't thank you enough.” Angie kissed her friend on both cheeks.

“You don't have to,” Cait said, incredibly gratified by Angie's thanks. She vowed that she and her friend would still get together once a week to go to the mall with the babies. It had become the one bright spot in her life and she wouldn't let it go, not when the rest of her life stank. Logan was more distant than ever and she hadn't been getting much sleep. She'd begun to have nightmares about Hotguy. It had started several days before.

In her first dream she was walking down a sidewalk in a residential area of a town she'd never been in before. Although the sun was shining brightly, the gigantic overhanging trees made the street dark and foreboding. A black car with opaque windows was parked across from what she knew was her house, although it looked nothing like her real home on Sheraton Drive. There was something or someone menacing in that car. She couldn't see what, but she knew that whatever it was intended to hurt her. If she could only get into her house, she would be safe from the fear that filled her, so she ran.

Then she was home, in her room, in her bed. She didn't know how she got there but she was safe now. Or was she? It was as if she were watching herself there in her bed in a movie, knowing something dreadful was going to happen and powerless to stop it. For several minutes she didn't hear a noise in the house, then suddenly there was the slow, rhythmic sound of footsteps on the stairs, and a shape appeared in the doorway of her darkened room. Hadn't she closed and locked that door?

He was beside her, looming over the bed where she lay, clutching the blankets to her chin, trying to cover herself. She wanted to scream but no sound came out. She lay, shivering, knowing that evil things were going to happen, things she wouldn't be able to prevent. She couldn't make out the intruder's face, but in a deep, gravelly voice he said, “Hi, Cait. Ready to be my Loverlady?” Hotguy. She'd known it was him and yet hearing him sent tremors though her.

Then she was naked, uncovered, hands and ankles tied to the bed, open to him and completely vulnerable. She pulled at the bonds but they held her firmly. “You and I both know you want this,” he said, his voice exactly like his voice on her computer. “You want it rough and hard.” His laugh was deep, evil, as if he were enjoying her struggles. “Try the restraints, Loverlady. Test the extent of my power. You'll find out quickly enough that there's no limit to my control over you.”

He was right and she knew it. He could do anything. He found the dildo she'd used on camera in her drawer and without hesitation shoved it into her body. It slid in easily. “See how wet you are? You're hot for your Hotguy. I've always known that you'd like it like this.”

He pulled the dildo out, then thrust it in more deeply. She wanted to pull her knees together, stop the onslaught, but she was helpless. Over and over he fucked her with the plastic phallus, and to her chagrin she found the pleasure increasing. Her hips were soon moving with the rhythm of his plunges. Eyes closed, she tried to convince herself that she hated what he was doing but to no avail. She tried to scream but couldn't.

She was humiliated by the erotic joy she was taking from the man's violation.

Suddenly her eyes popped open and she sat up. She was in her own bed, Logan snoring lightly beside her. She was panting as if she'd run several miles and her heart was pounding in her ears. She was totally aroused.

Knees trembling, she stumbled to the bathroom and in the dark, sat on the toilet and reached between her legs, rubbing her swollen clit until, within seconds, she came with small whimpers and moans of pleasure.

The following night she had a similar dream, but in that one Logan tried to stop the man and was severely beaten for his efforts.

Since then she'd had nightmares almost every night, simultaneously terrifying and exciting. What kind of woman was she? She wasn't the kind of person who dreamed of rape, but the man who came to her in her dreams and assaulted her with her own vibrator inflamed her more each night. She was hardly sleeping and it was starting to show on her face.

“Earth to Cait. Where did you go?” Monica said, staring at her. “You were a million miles away for a few minutes.”

“Sorry. I guess I fuzzed out,” Cait responded. “I'm not sleeping well and I guess it caught up with my brain.” As close as the three other women were to her, she had no intention of telling them about her nightmares or about her worry that Hotguy might want to do something really evil to her.

“I'm so sorry,” Monica said. “Something wrong?”

Cait sighed. She wanted to tell the women but what could she say? It was all so bizarre and if she were honest, scary. Maybe Hotguy was right. She liked it rough and he'd sensed that about her right away. Something was very wrong with her. “I'm okay. A little stomach upset, that's all.”

“You do look a little under the weather,” Monica said. “I hope you feel better.”

“I'm sure it's only a twenty-four-hour thing.”

“How's your sister, Monica? Is she back with her husband or what?” Angie asked.

“According to Bonnie, Jake wants to come back but she doesn't think she wants him. He's moved to a hotel. Bimbette didn't work out, I guess. He says it was just a totally stupid midlife thing, but midlife crisis or no midlife crisis, it's not easy to repair the damage that's been done.”

“Does Bonnie want to fix it?”

“I don't really know. She vacillates from moment to moment. She loves the guy very much, always has. They met in high school and have pretty much been together ever since. It's hard for her to adjust to not having him around, but he's been a real shit and I'm not sure she can forgive him, or even wants to try.”

“I hear you, Monica,” Eve said. “Jake was a beast.”

“I don't know about that,” Monica said. “It's her decision, of course, but maybe it would be best if Bonnie took him back. I gather he's willing to do anything.”

“You're kidding,” Eve said, her eyes wide. “That's the first time you've said anything positive about any man except Dan.”

Monica slumped in her seat. “I know, and I realize that I've let my mother's jaundiced attitude push me into ways of thinking that might not be all true.”

“Hallelujah,” Angie said in a loud singsong voice. “Monica has seen the light. Men aren't all shits.”

Over Angie and Eve's laughter Monica said, “Okay, lay off. I know I've been a bit one-tracked on this, but I'm willing to admit that I might have been wrong.”

“Dan's gotten to you, eh?”

Monica flushed. “Maybe. He's such a good man and a real straight arrow. He wouldn't cheat. If he wanted to date someone else he'd tell me that he was doing it. There's not a deceitful bone in his body.”

“That's an amazing statement,” Eve said, “especially coming from you.”

“I know,” she said. “Dan says hello to everyone, by the way.”

“Have you told him about the impending partnership?” Eve asked.

“Yes, and he was thrilled. I haven't told him what I do to keep clients happy, though, but nothing's been necessary in that department since I've been dating Dan. Maybe it will all work out and I'll never have to tell him anything.”

“That would be fortunate. What will you do if you want to make love to a client?” Eve asked.

“I don't know. I just don't know.”

While the other women talked, Cait's mind returned to her dreams. There was a menacing car in every one. Did that mean anything? As she dwelt on it, she realized that she'd seen a car like the one in her dream cruising her neighborhood several times over the past week. Could that have been Hotguy? Could that have lodged in her subconscious and caused this spate of nightmares? What if he were after her because he thought she really wanted to be raped?

She didn't want to be raped, not by some guy off the street, or off the 'Net. Not by Hotguy. Okay, she had fantasies about control, but from what she read recently on the Web, that was pretty common. Lots of women wanted to be dominated by their lovers, told what to do so they didn't have to worry about doing things wrong. Actually, Cait thought, it would be freeing not to have to wonder exactly what a man wanted. She'd know because he'd tell her, or order her, or have her tied down so she'd have to submit to what he wanted to do. That didn't make her a pervert, though, and she certainly didn't want to be raped by some guy she didn't know or trust, no matter what Hotguy said. And no matter that she woke up so hot that she had to masturbate, it was an erotic fantasy and nothing more.

Luckily Cait was on the outside of the booth this week so she stood and gathered her jacket. “Listen, guys, I'm really feeling lousy so I think I'm going to head home.”

“Sure, babe,” Monica said. “Are you okay to drive home?”

“Of course. I'm sure that with a good night's sleep I'll feel fine.” A good night's sleep would be a blessing.

Monica watched Cait leave, then turned to the rest of the group. “I'm worried about her,” she said. “She seemed really preoccupied all morning.”

“I noticed several times that she was not with the class,” Angie said. “I wonder whether something else is going on, or maybe something's wrong with Logan.”

“Or Hotguy,” Eve said. “Maybe Logan found out, or maybe Hotguy wasn't content to find someone else to play with.”

“What could he do about it?” Angie asked. “He doesn't know who Cait is, right? What trouble could he make?”

“I don't have the foggiest idea,” Eve said, “but it all makes you wonder.”

“Yeah, it does.” Monica paused, then looked at Eve. “How's Mike?”

“He's fine,” Eve said with a sigh. “I keep meaning to break it off, but it just doesn't happen. He says funch on Tuesday and I'm there. It's terrible. I feel like some weak-livered little mouse being led around by a cat. It's not the cat's fault. I'm letting myself be led. I'm stuck like a fly on flypaper.”

“You're only as stuck as you think you are,” Angie said, “but I don't want you to think that we're all bugging you about this. We love you and don't want to see you hurt, that's all.”

“One day the moment will come when I can't deal with it all anymore and I'll blurt it out. Until then, I'll roll with it.”