The Scarlet Letter Society

by Mary McCarthy

  “Well, let’s start your day off right,” said Ron as he leaned down in front of her seat. Since they had texted about a “coffee break” just this morning, he knew she wouldn’t have wasted time wearing panties underneath her short gray designer skirt. Panties would be in her Coach bag, nice and clean for the office later.

  Eva removed her blouse and placed it neatly over a nearby chair. She wore only a cream lace bra and the skirt. She picked up the mug of coffee and sipped it again, knowing it was about to get cold. She smiled at her young lover.

  “Whenever I see you before work, I know it’s going to be a good day,” said Eva. Ron hiked up her skirt. She lifted her hips and sat on the back of the overstuffed chair. She unfastened the zipper of her skirt as he gently kissed the insides of her thighs. She mentally high-fived herself for remembering to shave the tops of her legs.

  Ron’s hands were strong but gentle. He ran them up the sides of her legs, across the sides of her tiny waist, and slowly up that magical spot next to her breasts. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her thin frame, her nipples growing hard. She moaned quietly, willing his hands to graze across her breasts. As he kneeled on the chair in front of her, she deftly used her feet to acknowledge his growing erection.

  He smiled and as he stood up to disrobe, Eva admired his body once again. She slid down the back of the chair so she was seated in front of his obvious arousal. They had only been lovers for a few months; she’d interviewed him for the position he’d take after he completed law school, which was just last month. But by now, she knew his body well. She took him into her hands, and using what she considered a fine skill set, she began licking and teasing him until he was both moaning and fully excited. He throbbed with desire, and she loved feeling that in her mouth. Quietly cursing her gag reflex, she used the spray she’d grabbed from her purse to spritz the back of her throat. She gently but firmly grasped him, using her lips to stimulate him. Her other hand grabbed his amazing ass. She felt his knees get weak as she continued, stopping before he got too close to orgasm.

  Then suddenly he used his strong arms to cup her body and scoop her off the chair. Ron carried her into the bedroom and tossed her on the bed playfully. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He knelt, now kissing the insides of her thighs with more urgency.

  Eva was never good at accepting oral sex. She felt guilty she wasn’t doing anything to stimulate the guy, had difficulty relaxing enough to enjoy it, and found it really took too long for her to come this way, adding more guilt. She cursed her inner guilty Catholic, trying to relax and enjoy.

  Then she had an idea. The bed had sturdy wooden sides. She was in fantastic shape from practicing yoga three times a week, so she slid her body down toward the kneeling (and somewhat surprised-looking) Ron. Using her strong arms, she held her weight up on the wooden side rail and slid over him. The squat position gave her complete control, and she rose up and down, gliding her hips in a circular fashion that made both Ron and Eva moan with pleasure.

  Finally, back in control.

  Maggie and Wes sat down at their window table overlooking Fritchie Creek on the lovely early summer day in Keytown. Bento boxes at Café Tokyo were their favorite lunch.

  “So how are things going with your man?” asked Maggie.

  “I can’t believe I broke my own law and dated an actor,” said Wes with a sigh. “As a theatre director, I know better than anyone that they’re all whores and emotional disaster zones.”

  “But he’s hot,” said Maggie.

  “Alfred is so fucking hot that when he walks down the theatre aisle toward the stage, I literally get goosebumps. And I swear to God, having a hot affair inside an empty theatre is the sexiest thing ever. We’re all kinds of Gay Phantom of the Opera up in this house. H-O-T.”

  Maggie laughed, “Hilarious. Could the two of you please stereotype yourselves a little bit more? You’re like gay cliché central!”

  “I know, right?” said Wes. “And don’t care. He is a stunner, and I swear to God, a keeper. This is the longest I’ve dated anyone—ever. Six months! The whole thing is positively mythical.”

  “I am so, so happy for you,” said Maggie. She’d never seen Wes so serious about a guy, and she didn’t want to jinx how happy he was by talking too much about it. She secretly hoped this was the one for Wes—like herself, at the end of the day, he just wanted someone to curl up and watch bad movies and drink good booze with.

  The pair ordered their bento boxes and hot teas and took in the scenery of the passersby on the waterfront. They both loved people-watching.

  “I’m getting too old for this shit,” said Maggie.

  “What shit, baby?” asked Wes.

  “My hip joints were killing me for days after my little stairwell romp with Ted,” she said. “And starting another fling is making me wonder what the hell is going on with me.”

  “Oooooh, yeah, what’s the latest with you and Dr. Feelgood?”

  “I haven’t told anyone but you that the professor is a woman! We’ve seen each other a few times. I really like her. I positively get the whole girl thing now; it’s a totally different world sexually. I mean, I don’t think I’m a lesbian, because at the end of the day, seriously, just give me a dick.”

  “Word!” said Wes.

  “It’s almost like finding a new best girlfriend that you’re just more intimate with,” said Maggie. “I have generally never felt very close to other women. I hate cliques and all that, so the idea of having a single best girlfriend is something I’ve always wished I had. Kate is filling a void that I guess I’ve always had and didn’t even realize.”

  “Sounds like you sure are getting your void filled, honey. And awww. How cute are you girls? Painting each other’s toenails, watching Heathers together, and sucking each other’s tits.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that, exactly. Although I do have to say after a lifetime of wondering what it would be like to be with a girl, I can say it’s much easier than I imagined. Everything just happens sorta naturally. Girls are softer. Their hair is so soft! Everyone must use better conditioner than I do. And the curves…wow. It’s far different than a guy.”

  “Oh I’m sure, not that I’d know about the whole girl thing,” said Wes. “I practically gagged in 7th grade when we played spin the bottle and I had to make out with this cheerleader. All I could think about was that I wanted to play on the turns where it was only guys in the circle. It was her football player boyfriend I wanted to make out with! So, have you told Ted about the good doctor?”

  “Sort of,” said Maggie. “Wasn’t sure if I should tell Dave about it.”

  “Husband number one! Say what? What is the deal with you two, anyway? How do you still manage to be friends with him after all the marriages the two of you have been through?” asked Wes.

  “There haven’t been that many marriages,” said Maggie. “I’m only just divorcing my second husband, and Dave divorced that idiot girl he married after me within eighteen months.”

  “So what’s the deal with Ted, then, since you said you don’t have any plans to marry him?” Wes asked.

  “Aw, he’s just a filler,” said Maggie.

  “And what the fuck is a filler?” asked Wes.

  “You know, just like when you have a guy to keep your mind off the fact that you don’t have the guy,” said Maggie. “When I realized how miserable I was with Matt and that I wanted a divorce, Ted was just sort of there to be a lovely distraction. He’s sweet, and fun and low maintenance.”

  “And hot! I guess I was wrong thinking you might be in love with this guy,” said Wes. “And I certainly understand being in a place where you have a guy to keep your mind off not having the guy. Don’t miss that.”

  Maggie thought for a second. “Who the fuck knows about any of it,” she said. “I have for sure learned a lot about what love is and what it isn’t over the years. There are different theories on whether you find it once or you can find it a hundred times
, and. I am starting to think I had my shot at love in my first marriage, blew it, and now I’m just sort of going to be doing the filler thing.”

  “Oh, Jesus, let’s just not even go down the ‘love’ road,” said Wes. “What a bunch of greeting card industry-fueled bullshit that is. It all comes down to who makes you feel good about yourself and pays attention to you. That’s what I’m getting out of the actor right now; he makes me feel sexy. Call it love, call it lust, call it whatever. I just want more of it! And not to be sentimental about the whole thing, but when I am with him I feel like I’m home.”

  “Yeah,” said Maggie. “I want more of something, too. I want to feel home. I’m just not there yet.”

  As she said headed back to her shop after lunch with Wes, Maggie’s phone rang. The noise startled her, and she didn’t even look to see who was calling before she answered it.

  “Hello?” said Maggie.

  “It’s just me,” said the voice on the other line.

  “Well of course it’s you,” said Maggie, smiling. “Who else would call me on the actual phone?”

  “How is everything going?”

  “Well, fine, I guess. I’m about to go through a divorce and I’m cheating on my soon-to-be ex with both a guy and a chick. So I guess I’m pretty busy. How ‘bout you?”

  “The same. Old buildings still falling. Trying to keep a few of them up,” said Dave.

  Maggie smiled. “Old buildings still falling” was the standard answer whenever anyone asked her first husband how he was doing. Dave was an architectural historian for the National Historic Preservation Association in Washington, D.C., working out of their regional Keytown office. His passion for old buildings had fueled a career that included several books, speaking gigs around the globe, and the very thing he loved most and did best: doing anything in his power to save beautiful historic buildings from being torn down.

  “I know there are a few old beauties out there still on the planet thanks to you standing in front of the bulldozer,” said Maggie.

  “Maybe one. Okay, maybe two,” said Dave. “I thought I’d give you a call to talk about Lilith’s graduation party.”

  “Aw, I’m too tired to tell you about it,” said Maggie. “But can you believe our baby is graduating already? Let’s have lunch tomorrow and we can go over it all then, ok?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll come by your shop?”

  “Sure. You know I’m always hungry by noon, so I’ll see you then.”

  “Perfect. See you then, Maggie.”

  “Bye, Dave.”

  from: Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com

  to: Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com

  date: Monday, June 11 2012 at 7:09 AM

  subject: Logos

  Thank you again for the lovely lunch at the Provence. Their crepes are to die for—and I’m picky about crepes. I appreciate you sending over the logo samples. They look fantastic. Would you like to meet here at the bakery to discuss them?

  * * *

  Lisa swallowed as she hit send. Oh, geez, this was going to be it. Inviting Ben directly to the shop after the incredible sexual tension they’d shared at their lunch was a bold move; one that would make the SLS proud if they had any idea all she was doing was flirting.

  How am I even thinking about cheating on Jim? she wrote in her journal. But it was right underneath the words “EYE FUCKING” in huge letters, with a cartoon eye drawing surrounded by squiggles. Other than his ridiculous foot fetish, Jim really wasn’t that bad of a husband. He had been by her side when she went through heartbreak after heartbreak trying to get pregnant. She flipped through the journal pages, seeing the dates and times written down in the margin. He would drive home from work if it was ovulation time, go to doctor’s appointments with her, bring dinner home when he knew she’d had a long day at work.

  In the beginning of their relationship, undoubtedly when he was trying to play it down, she hadn’t thought the shoes obsession had been that big of a deal. Lisa wasn’t someone who had cared what the hell she wore on her feet—if it were up to her, she’d be in flip flops every day at the bakery. But she now had a custom built closet full of the most expensive, most gorgeous shoes on the planet. Carrie Bradshaw would have fainted at the sight of this obscene closet. They actually called it the “Shoe Room” because it used to be the house’s smallest bedroom.

  All I want is a baby, she wrote, and all I have are shoes.

  She heard the soft ping of her laptop that meant a new message had arrived.

  from: Ben bnidale@starfishdesign.com

  to: Lisa lswain@blackbirdspie.com

  date: Monday, June 11, 2012, 7:16 AM

  subject: Business meetings

  Perhaps needless to say, I would absolutely love to meet you at your bakery to discuss your logo. I want you to be happy. Whichever mock-ups you like, we can change until we achieve exactly what you want.

  May I be so forward as to say that I really very much enjoyed our lunch as well. You looked gorgeous in the outfit from Maggie’s shop. I was sorry to have to leave town for that conference and not get to follow up sooner. As always, I am looking forward to seeing you again.

  Ben

  * * *

  Lisa smiled, wondering what would happen at the meeting. She re-opened her journal. While many times she could fill three pages without even blinking, sometimes she’d write only a word or two with the date. Today, she scrawled the date and the words, Design THIS.

  July 2012

  “We’re undercover passion on the run

  Chasing love up against the sun

  We’re strangers by day, lovers by night

  Knowing it’s so wrong, but feeling so right.”

  -Part Time Lovers, Stevie Wonder

  Monthly meeting of the Scarlet Letter Society.

  Zoomdweebies Café

  Friday, July 6, 2012

  5:30 a.m.

  Attention, ladies! We’re terrible at being a book club. This month make sure you have read Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying (stay up all night if you have to, Eva!). It’s my favorite book, so I’d love to actually chat about it.

  “The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared

  not tread.”

  -The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

  At 6:00 a.m., Eva checked the email reminder of that week’s book club meeting as the notification came up on her iPhone. Knowing she was going to catch crap from Maggie, she had at least read a few chapters of this one. It certainly was an easier read than that Victorian snoozer she’d blown off. At least this one took place in a period of time during which they’d all actually been alive.

  Eva rolled over in the luxurious, ridiculously high Egyptian cotton thread count bedding in her two-story suite overlooking Central Park. God, she thought, I love it here. And how could she not? This top-notch suite was compliments of her hard work and dedication to her corporate law practice, and she had earned it. She rolled her eyes at the thought. Okay, that was all kinda bullshit. She knew full well the room upgrade was compliments of her chef lover. She used to stay in a normal person small suite, not this place, twice the size of her mother’s island cottage, where actual presidents had stayed.

  Her hotel phone rang. Who used these anymore? she thought as she answered.

  A French accent greeted her on the other line. “Good morning, Madame Eva Bradley?”

  “Yessssss?” she answered.

  “This is Charles, the head chef here at the Plaza. Are you enjoying your stay?”

  She snickered.

  “I would be enjoying it more if I had someone here in my room to take care of some of my personal needs,” she purred.

  “Yes, madame, we do offer 24-hour butler service in our royal suites, as you know. Hopefully our butlers can service your every personal need? I’m calling to see if you would like to be the Chef’s guest for breakfast this morning here in our private dining room.”

  “I would love for you to have me for breakfast,” said
Eva.

  “Oui, madame, the pleasure will be mine. Is 7:00 am a good time for you?”

  “Perfect,” said Eva, smiling, because Charles of course knew she always left the hotel by 8 am.

  “Very good, madame. We look forward to seeing you then.”

  Eva tapped her fingers on the open door of her large closet. She’d have to choose an outfit that could be easily—well, disassembled and reassembled for the corporate law office where she’d be spending the morning after her little breakfast meeting. In the financial fallout of the modern economy, companies rose and fell, and it was her job to deal with multimillion dollar lawsuits between those companies, no matter how exhausting that often was.

  Exhausted at work, exhausted at home. Calvin had just come home with his first C, in Biology. She couldn’t wait until the day her boys were out of college (already an optimistic goal, she thought) and she could get off this hamster wheel, retire, and live on Matthew’s Island collecting sea glass and reading whole, actual books like that was her career.

  But for now, Eva smiled to herself, because at least it looked like it was going to be a panties-in-the-Coach purse kind of morning first.

  Zarina served two mocha lattes to the overwhelmed moms with the unruly looking preschoolers.

  She watched as the kids chose from the corner basket containing blocks, puzzles, worn children’s board books, and tiny Polly Pocket houses that were once hers. A random My Little Pony or two, some Matchbox cars, and a few Barbie dolls with frazzled hair and frayed princess dresses rounded out the mix of distractions meant to keep kids like these busy so moms could relax and caffeinate.

  And for when the moms get desperate? Ring Pops and Fun Dip candies at the counter could keep a kid occupied long enough for his mother to have a gulp or two of some much-needed java. Of course, only the coolest moms let their kids have the sugar. The ‘cruncher’ moms pulled out a bag of grapes or an organic banana.