Wounds of Time

by Stevie D. Parker

  Vincent put the coffee cup down and studied the plate in front of him. “How long did you date him for?” he asked.

  “Three years,” I replied.

  “So, your ex-boyfriend was not only extremely good-looking, but was also a football player and owns a pair of handcuffs?” he asked.

  I smiled and shook my head. Vincent was always so confident. I’d never seen him so insecure over another man before. It was reassuring to know that I wasn’t the only jealous one. I didn’t bother to answer his question. I didn’t think he really expected me to, considering that the answers were obvious.

  “Does it bother you that I’m so much older than you?” he asked.

  “No, not at all. Does it bother you that I’m so much younger than you?” I asked, realizing he was still probably upset over the father insult from the night before.

  “No,” he said. “I mean, not that you’re younger. But I wish I was younger, too.” There was a bit of silence. “We are definitely not going out with them later.”

  “Why, are you really that jealous to go out with Brett and his wife?” I asked.

  “No, I just don’t need to stare across a dinner table at a guy who knows what you taste like. Would you want to go out with my ex-girlfriend and her new husband?” he asked.

  I realized there was nothing I could say at that point to change his mind, but I joked anyway. “Depends…is she in a nursing home?”

  He laughed and shook his head, and the conversation ended. We would not be having dinner that night with Brett and his wife.

  I watched him gamble some more, and later, we had a very nice dinner. Vincent made sure we didn’t get back to the room so late so that he’d be too tired to perform. We got on the road to Manhattan early Sunday morning, to avoid the summer traffic.

  “How did you end up doing last night?” I asked.

  Watching him gamble was exciting but confusing at the same time. I couldn’t ever tell if he was up or down.

  “Not good,” he replied. “I’m better at poker, but I didn’t want to go into a room and leave you alone.”

  “How much did you lose?” I asked.

  “A little over twenty,” he replied.

  “Thousand?” I asked, shocked. He nodded, and my heart sank. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to lose that type of money. “Are you upset?” I asked, as he pulled up in front of my place. He looked over at me and smiled.

  “No. Trust me, I can lose a lot more in the stock market at any given time. I had a really good time with you this weekend,” he said. “Worth every penny.”

  It had been a really nice weekend. The very best part was being able to go to sleep and wake up beside him.

  “The weekend isn’t over yet, and it’s still early. Do you want to come in?” I asked.

  “Let me go find a spot,” he said. “Be back in a few.”

  SAMANTHA

  “Did you know a midlife crisis is a real thing?” I asked Lisa, as we sat at the country club after getting massages.

  “Still not over the tattoo?” she asked.

  Months had passed since Vince had come home with that stupid ink on his bicep. I shook my head. “No, it’s not about the tattoo, it’s not even about him. It’s about me.”

  Lisa put down her champagne glass, signaling that she was listening.

  “If I tell you something, you can’t tell anyone. We both know what happened the last time you opened your mouth to Jimmy,” I warned.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, that was the hottest thing I ever heard. You should be thanking me,” she said.

  “What? You like anal sex?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “A lot of women do, believe it or not. I love being dominated by Jimmy. He’s so big. I feel tiny when he’s throwing me around. The rougher he gets, the better,” she said, lifting her robe to show me a bruise, like the mark was some sort of trophy. “I’m not going to lie,” she continued, “I think about that kitchen scene sometimes when Jimmy and me are in bed.”

  “You think about Vince and me while you’re having sex?” I asked, appalled.

  “Stop acting so surprised. You’re a hot couple. I’m sure a lot of people think about you and Vince in bed.”

  I shook my head. “Changing the subject…I went on a date with a guy,” I admitted.

  Lisa looked up from her phone. “What? When?” she asked.

  “Last year. If you can even call it a date, since I paid half the bill. There’s something about it though that I can’t get out of my head. He asked me what I did for a living, and I said I was a teacher. I mean, Lisa, I’m nothing. I’m going to be forty in a few days. I’m just a mom and arm candy to a successful man. Is that what I’m going to be remembered as? I have nothing that defines me as a person. I was thinking of maybe going back to school,” I said.

  Lisa looked at me like I was insane. “School? To do what?” she asked.

  “I don’t know—something. I’m just so bored, especially with the kids being out of the house. What am I supposed to do? Fire the cleaning girl and clean the house?”

  Lisa gasped at something on her phone, interrupting me. “Oh my God! I’m monitoring Hayden’s social media accounts. There’s a girl in his class that, for whatever reason, is being bullied by, well, almost everyone. Not Hayden, not yet. That’s why I keep looking. Listen to this, written on a public wall: ‘I’m going to shove my cock into your mouth until you choke on it, you slut bitch.’”

  Her mouth twisted. “These kids are twelve! I don’t know if I feel worse for the poor girl or this douchebag’s mother, who can’t even yell at this kid without ACS knocking at her door. Be happy your kids are grown, Sam. This is the bullshit I deal with all day long. We pay almost fifty thousand dollars a year to have these kids in private schools, and this still happens! Kids are truly brutal nowadays. Anyway, I’m sorry, continue,” she said, shaking her head in disgust.

  “I just don’t know what to do with myself. I’m not getting any younger. Remember when we were in our twenties, and if we were late for our periods, we were calculating when the last time we had sex was to make sure we weren’t pregnant? Now when I’m late for my period, I’m afraid it’s menopause. I actually get excited to get my period now, like whew, it’s not time yet,” I ranted. “I’m bored, Lisa and I miss California. At least in California, you can go to a beach or something. The winters here are miserable.”

  “So why don’t you move somewhere warmer? You guys looked in Florida before. You think Vince will move? Not like he can’t retire now,” she said.

  “No way. Vince is way too New York. He’s become such a city guy. He didn’t want to move to Florida, even back then. We only looked because he was nervous he was going to lose his job with the crash. That was him in panic mode. He always has a backup plan. We were fortunate to recover from the hit, and now that the economy is doing so much better, no way he’d move,” I said.

  “You know what you need?” she said. “A boy toy. Nice blue-collar guy. Someone who works with their hands. Mechanic or firefighter. They are so much better in bed. They don’t have the things running through their heads these guys do. Not thinking about meetings, or PowerPoints, or stock performances, just focusing on what’s under them- or over them!”

  “Why do you cheat on Jimmy if you have such good sex with him?” I asked.

  She thought about it for a second. “I don’t know; maybe it’s the thrill.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I was so nervous with that guy from Brooklyn—I should have just slept with the Uber driver!” I joked.

  “Hey, if you’re so bored, I can give you Hailey’s page to monitor. Trust me; it’s a full-time job, watching their socials media accounts.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll pass. That sounds stressful,” I said.

  “Come on, let’s get dressed. We’ll go get lunch and cocktails and then do some shopping. I’m sure you’ll feel a lot better about yourself with a new Chanel bag,�
�� she said.

  I laughed. “Okay,” I agreed. “I am always down for retail therapy.”

  “We’ll be on a beach in Ibiza in two days to celebrate the seventh anniversary of your thirty-third birthday. We’re going to have a great time!” she reassured me.

  The flight to Ibiza was so long that, as a birthday gift, Vince had chartered a private jet for us. I gripped the railing tightly as we walked up the ramp to board.

  “Haven’t mastered these steps in heels yet?” Lisa teased.

  As we took our seats and prepared for takeoff, the flight attendant appeared.

  “Welcome and Happy Birthday Mrs. DeLuca,” she said. “For lunch, we’ll be serving a branzino, lightly marinated in olive oil with a side of fresh vegetables. For snacks, we have fresh caviar, along with a variety of cheeses with crackers and fresh fruit. On board we have Grey Goose or Belvedere vodka, Patron Tequila, Sapphire Gin and Bacardi One-fifty-one. We also have plenty of mixers, should you want a mixed drink. There are three bottles of champagne chilling, let me know if you’d like me to open a bottle.”

  As we listened to her spiel, we fastened our seat belts.

  “We’re taking off shortly and request that your chairs be in the upright position. Once we’ve reached a safe flying altitude, anything goes. Please let me know if you need anything.” The flight attendant handed us both a pair of cashmere socks. We took our heels off and slipped them on.

  It took about twenty minutes before the flight attendant informed us that we’d reached a cruising altitude. At that point, we unbuckled our seatbelts and moved to the couch.

  “I got you a present,” Lisa said. She dug into her pocketbook and extracted a cigarette box. She snapped the box open, pulling out a very nicely rolled joint.

  “Is that pot?” I asked.

  She started laughing. “Sure is—I made Jimmy get it for us!”

  “Good thing we didn’t have to go through security, or we’d be spending my birthday in jail.”

  I laughed and watched as Lisa lit the joint, took a pull, and passed it to me. I hadn’t smoked in years, and I started choking on my first pull.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to catch my breath, half-laughing and half-choking.

  “Okay, we need a story,” she said.

  “What kind of story?” I asked.

  “Once we get to that hotel, we are thirty-three years old, single, and well, we need careers. What are we?” she asked.

  I thought about it. “Um….what are we? Maybe sales reps?” I suggested.

  “No, too boring,” she said.

  She passed the joint back to me. I took a hit and didn’t choke this time.

  “Public relations?” I asked. “Party planners—we’re party planners! We do weddings, bar mitzvahs, private parties…”

  “Yes! I love it!” she said. “We’re party planners! My name is Marie,” she said.

  I started giggling, already incredibly high. “Okay, okay, and I’m Alyssa!”

  We devised our plan for about an hour before we both passed out, high as kites.

  The flight attendant woke us as we were reaching our initial descent. When we landed, there was a limo waiting for us on the runway. Marie and Alyssa showed at the hotel just in time for lunch.

  “I cannot believe I smoked pot!” I said, as we sat down to eat.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You didn’t smoke pot, Alyssa did!” she said, turning her head to gaze at the water. “Look at that beach—so different than New York. I hope you brought a sexy bathing suit…we’re getting wild this week!”

  After lunch, we changed into our bathing suits and spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach, drinking rum runners and pretending we were in our early thirties. There were a lot of American guys there. A lot of nice-looking American guys. All much friendlier than that jerk Cole had been. We were getting approached a lot. It had been a long time since I’d gotten that much attention. One pair of guys invited us to a club that night, and we accepted. We showed up at the club around 10 p.m., Ibiza time, and stayed until they closed. I hadn’t partied like that in years. Taking shots, dancing with each other until we were slick with sweat. The next morning, we woke up and headed back to the beach.

  “That guy was really into you last night,” Lisa said. “Maybe you should lose the ring, it’s hard to say you’re single with that rock on your finger.”

  I looked down at my finger. Maybe I should take my ring off. Not that I thought a man would care that I was married, but the size of the diamond could be intimidating. I was pretty sure Jimmy and Lisa had an open marriage, but she’d never admitted as much to me. Vince had always been convinced that they were swingers. Either way, I didn’t think either of them cared what the other one did, as long as they came home to each other.

  “I’ll put it in the safe when we get back to the room,” I said.

  “Good.” Lisa sighed. “Look at all these young guys. So many to choose from.”

  I laughed. “You know we’re cougars,” I said.

  She gave me a dirty look. “Bite your tongue, bitch! We are not!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes, we are, I looked it up. Thirty-five and older!” I answered.

  “See, we’re thirty-three, so not yet,” she said, and then laughed.

  That night, we attended a “singles party” hosted by the hotel. So many men approached me that I had wondered why I hadn’t taken off my ring sooner. Lisa immediately hit it off with one of the guys, so I made my way over to the bar to get myself a drink.

  “I’ll have a rum runner,” I said.

  “And you can put that on my bill,” a man’s voice from behind me said.

  I turned around. Standing there was a very attractive guy: mid-thirties, blonde hair, blue eyes, insanely built body, and tattoos covering his entire arm. Basically, the complete opposite of Vince.

  “I’m John,” he said.

  “Alyssa,” I replied. “Thank you for the drink.”

  “You owe me a dance now,” he said, placing his hand on my waist.

  A man hadn’t asked me to dance since, well, maybe never. Vince didn’t dance, and I never made it to my prom, so there was really nowhere that I ever could have danced. I had such a good time that night, dancing with him. The man was so energetic, full of life. He truly enjoyed dancing with me, even if he wasn’t that good of a dancer. When Lisa said she was leaving with the guy she’d met, I told her that I’d meet her back at the room. I stayed him for the rest of the party, and not once did he ask me to split the bill!

  John did, however, ask me if I wanted to go back to his room after, and I accepted the invitation. We were barely inside when he started kissing me and unzipping my dress. Once the dress fell to the floor, he looked me up and down and said, “Damn, you’re hot!”

  He started kissing me everywhere, removing my bra and panties and unzipping his pants. He guided me to my knees and then took out a Magnum condom. He handed the condom to me and told me to put it on him. Vince wasn’t small by any means, but this guy was twice his size. I was embarrassed, but had no clue how to put a condom on a man. John ended up retrieving the condom and rolling it on himself, before sitting down on the couch and placing me on top of him, so that I was facing backward.

  He yanked my hair and guided me up and down on him, all while talking extremely dirty. He kept saying things like, “You like that, you little slut?” It was so different than any sex I had ever experienced with Vince but, at the same time, a complete turn on. As John got rougher, his enormous size hurt a little more. The more he watched me squirm, the more aroused he seemed to get. I silently hoped that he wouldn’t be crazy enough to try to slip into any other body part. Luckily for me, he didn’t.

  It lasted about twenty minutes before we both orgasmed.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he said, when it was over. He asked if I wanted to have lunch together the next day, so we exchanged
phone numbers before I made my way back to our hotel. When I got there, Lisa stood on our balcony, holding a bottle of wine.

  “Well, you’re home late,” she said. “Have fun?”

  I went inside to grab a glass from the room and then joined her on the balcony. I poured myself a glass of wine. Staring over the railing, I was watching the waves hit the sand, reflecting the moon off the water.

  “Holy shit! You got laid!” she said, after studying the smile on my face.

  “I sure did, and it was fabulous! He was so into me, so different than anything I’ve ever experienced! We’re having lunch tomorrow!” I said, clapping my hands in excitement.

  She gave me a skeptical look. “I’m really happy you had a good time, but don’t get yourself too worked up. You’re not having lunch with him tomorrow,” she said.

  I turned around, changing my view from the beach to the lounge chair where she sat.

  “Sam, we’re in Ibiza,” she said. “We went to a singles party where people go to hook up. He’s not calling you, no matter how much fun he had. It’s called a one-night stand.”

  I sank onto the other lounge chair, and gazed into my wine.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll meet new guys. Plus, even if he does call, you don’t bring sand to the beach,” she explained.

  Lisa was right. John didn’t call the next day, but by then, I didn’t even care. We had a routine now. We went to the beach during the day, and a party at night. I was having a fantastic time. I felt so young and attractive, in a way that I hadn’t felt in years. On our last night in Ibiza, we were at a club when another good-looking man approached us and asked if he could buy us drinks.

  He introduced himself. “I’m Mike.”

  “I’m Alyssa, and this is Marie,” I said.

  “Where are you ladies from?” he asked.

  “New York,” I replied, “You?”

  “I’m from the States too! Austin, Texas,” he said. “You were in the red bikini on the beach near the water, right? I’ve been watching you for three days.” He smiled.

  We were hanging out with Mike for a while when another man stole Lisa’s attention away from us. Soon, Mike had me taking shots with him. We were flirting heavily. He was a little older than me; very in shape and with the prettiest colored blue eyes I’d ever seen, but there was no way I was going to sleep with him. After my night with John, I was happy enough to go back to real life. I’d gotten what I’d needed to out of my system and felt good, even though John hadn’t called. I was honest with Mike and told him I was married. Turned out, he was as well, and his wife was there with him, in the room with his kids. As we danced, he kept grabbing me and pulling me into him, trying to kiss me.