The Scarlet Letter Society

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The Scarlet Letter Society Page 6

by Mary McCarthy


  Zarina returned to the counter where she was pleased to see one of the moms had placed two Ring Pops, an apologetic look on her face. Zarina smiled at her as Lisa walked in alone. She looked a little stressed.

  “Busy day at the bakery?”

  “Yeah, pretty much always,” said Lisa, “which I shouldn’t complain about.”

  The shop wasn’t busy besides the two moms with their kids, so Zarina asked Lisa if she wanted to sit down and have caramel lattes.

  “I’d love that.” Lisa looked genuinely happy.

  The women had never gotten a chance to sit down and chat, even though the two of them were about as close in age as Lisa was to the other Scarlet Letter Society women.

  “So, are you reading Fear of Flying?”

  “Oh heck yes,” said Lisa. “I’m sure I will read all the monthly books, even though we don’t really discuss them at our gatherings.

  “Can I tell you a little secret?” asked Zarina.

  “Sure,” said Lisa.

  “When I order your books each month, I’ve been ordering an extra copy for myself and reading along with you.”

  “That’s so funny!” Lisa said, laughing. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell. So what did you think of the first two books?”

  “Well I had read The Scarlet Letter in high school, but read it again anyway. And then I really thought Anna Karenina was tragic, which is why I thought maybe you guys should skip it.”

  “I know,” said Lisa. “None of these historical books seem to be very understanding towards women who cheat. I actually think overall that Anna Karenina was meant to be a little more on the sympathetic side from Tolstoy’s perspective, especially for a man. But there is no doubt it is grim.”

  “Very true,” Zarina said. “I know Maggie read it anyway, but Eva probably won’t. You ladies need to find some more uplifting adultery books, that’s for sure. Not there are many. Fear of Flying should help.”

  Lisa took out her journal from the nearly-matching preppy Vera Bradley purse and began reading.

  “The zipless fuck is absolutely pure. It is free of ulterior motives. There is no power game. The man is not “taking” and the woman is not “giving.” No one is attempting to cuckold a husband or humiliate a wife. No one is trying to prove anything or get anything out of anyone. The zipless fuck is the purest thing there is. And it is rarer than the unicorn. And I have never had one.”

  “Yeah, Erica Jong doesn’t really mince words, does she?” Lisa continued, “She goes on to say that the zipless fuck happens because “when you came together, zippers fell away like rose petals, underwear blew off in one breath like dandelion fluff. For the true ultimate zipless A-1 fuck, it was necessary that you never got to know the man very well.”

  “Do you agree with her?” Zarina asked.

  “It’s really complex, but truly so simple,” said Lisa. “It makes sense that if you had an affair, you would want it to happen in an almost innocent way—not out of spite or anger, but just because two people have come together in a moment in time and had a true connection.”

  “And they just happened to be married to other people,” Zarina said.

  Lisa seemed to blush. “Yeah, I mean, that’s the catch, right?” said Lisa. “The guilt. If you love your spouse, no matter how imperfect they are, you’re still going to feel bad having a relationship with someone else, whether it is a one night stand or a deeper friendship that just morphs into an affair.”

  Zarina didn’t want to pry. Lisa really seemed like she was puzzling this out. It seemed she gave a lot more thought to this stuff than Maggie or Eva, which was probably one reason she didn’t open up more around them.

  “So have you ever,” Zarina asked her, “had a zipless fuck?”

  “I guess Jong says they’re rarer than a unicorn for a reason,” said Lisa, “but yeah, one time in college—isn’t that where most zipless fucks happen, right?—I had sex on a boat with a guy whose name I couldn’t even tell you today.”

  Zarina laughed.

  “Are you serious? A boat, huh?”

  “Yep. I went to culinary school outside DC, but one time we went to a conference in Annapolis,” said Lisa. “Our hotel was right on the water at the harbor. I ended up meeting this guy at the bar, and his boat was docked right in front. We went for a ride, and then, well, and then we went for a ride! Sex on a boat was amazing. You can feel the whole boat rocking with the motion of your …”

  She couldn’t even finish the sentence. She looked up like a kid caught red-handed in a candy store.

  Zarina smiled at her. “It’s totally cool,” Zarina said, pulling her long black hair into a ponytail. Whew! Who knew how hot this coffee chat would be? I mean, it sounds fantastic.”

  “It was before I was married,” said Lisa.

  “And did you end up marrying a guy with a boat?” Zarina asked her jokingly. Lisa’s face relaxed. “Nope. But that probably would have been a really brilliant idea! So what about you, young lady? You’re probably too young to ask about such escapades.”

  “Oh come on, I’m officially old enough to drink legally,” Zarina responded. “And I’m certainly not going to be a blushing bride, if I’m ever a bride! Heck yes, I had my college cliché zipless fuck. It was with a girl, and we both had boyfriends at the time. Though it wasn’t Stanley. But I think that’s what made it zipless—we were both girls, so we didn’t have the same guilt as you would if you cheated on your man with another guy.”

  Zarina had somehow felt necessary to explain to Lisa that she hadn’t cheated on Stanley, though it seemed kind of ridiculous under the circumstances of her existing club membership.

  “It all goes back to the shame, I think,” said Lisa. “Can you live with yourself the next day if you hurt the person you love by being with someone else?”

  “I’ll leave that question for you, the other members of The Scarlet Letter Society, and Erica Jong to ponder,” Zarina said, clearing their cups.

  G-Chat With Ron Jacobs

  [email protected]

  July 5 to Eva

  5:02 PM Ron: hey

  Eva: hey!

  Ron: so have you ever been to a sex club?

  Eva: um. no

  5:03 PM Ron: we should totally go—there is one in Baltimore

  Eva: have you been there?!

  5:04 PM Ron: yeah with Nicole.

  5:05 PM Eva: what is it like? And what do u need me to go there for if u have your hot 20something girlfriend already going there with u?

  5:06 PM Ron: It’s not as freaky as you might think. There are different rooms and you can watch or not watch or go in rooms or not, there’s a BYOB bar—it’s pretty laid back.

  5:07 PM Eva: yeah someone’s getting laid there for sure.

  Ron: truuuuue. haha

  5:08 PM Eva: and you didn’t answer…you want me to go to a sex club with you becaussse?

  Ron: I think u would have fun! Maybe you and Joe could go with me and Nicole.

  5:10 PM Eva: You have obviously lost your mind. Joe and I do not need to be in a sex club to reminded that we don’t have sex anymore.. Let me guess—this has something to do with your threesome fantasy, doesn’t it…

  Ron: what! No. Why do u say that!?

  5:11 PM Eva: If you think my forty-one-year-old ass and saggy boobs are EVER going to be naked in front of your perfect little size-zero girlfriend you can dream on, young intern.

  5:12 PM Ron: you wouldn’t have to. At a sex club, anything goes.

  Eva: ew. The concept of the germs alone completely freaks me out.

  5:13 PM Ron: there are pros there to make sure everything is completely sanitized.

  Eva: ew. They need staff to clean up all the—ew. Just EW.

  5:14 PM Ron: you should just come with me and we can give a try to see what you think. You might like the “torture chamber” room.

  5:15 PM Eva: Torture chamber sounds fun, I must admit. But not one that someone else was in five minutes ago.

  5:17 PM Ron:
It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again.

  muahaha

  5:18 PM Eva: You are too young for that reference.

  5:19 PM Ron: ha ha I think it came out when I was like in first grade, but I’ve seen it on AMC.

  Eva: This conversation is just making me feel old.

  5:20 PM Ron: You’re not old. You’re hot.

  Eva: So are you, my young staffer. So are you.

  5:21 PM Ron: What? Stiffer? Lol Well I surely look forward to seeing you in the morning.

  Eva: Yes, see you then. And don’t call me Shirley.

  Ron: Huh?

  Eva: Nevermind.

  Eva sat back at her kitchen desk area chair, took off her reading glasses, closed her laptop and wiped her eyes with her hands, shaking her head. Yeah, he can maybe get a 90s Silence of the Lambs reference, but definitely not a 1980 Airplane reference from four years before he was born! Having an affair with someone literally from another decade was interesting, that was for sure. No Pandora Internet radio station covered this generation gap.

  Although she appreciated Ron’s young body, she constantly felt old and fat and wrinkled around him. Technically, especially for her age, she wasn’t any of those things—working out paid off, but whenever they were together, which was rarely in public anyway, she always felt like people (the waiter, the store clerk) looked back and forth quickly between her and Ron in a questioning way. What is the relationship between these two people? And it was a fair question.

  She sighed. Having had affairs before, she knew the key was to keep the emotion out of them. No “I love you.” Saying that or not saying it always seemed to fuck everything up. No promises for the future. Just enjoy the time you have, don’t waste energy being guilty, and don’t think too much about the whole thing. with Charles, she felt more secure because he was older. She wasn’t so physically insecure around him. His wife had died of breast cancer, and he was lonely. She filled that physical need for him, and he didn’t ask her for more. Their relationship was based on affection, companionship, and fun; the fun for her being the most treasured.

  She could hear her teenage sons in the family room playing Call of Duty or Halo or whatever those godforsaken violent video games were that you told yourself as a parent you’d never, ever let your kids play. She remembered not wanting them to play with guns when they were little and wondered where parenting all went to hell. Middle school, she nodded to herself. Definitely the hormone hell of middle school.

  Joe was in his office in the next room. It was a rare evening when the four of them were home together. Usually, the boys had sports practice or were out with friends, Joe was at the hospital, or she was at the office. The four of them operated pretty independently of one another, but it was dinnertime, so she walked into Joe’s office to ask if she should order some Chinese food for delivery. She hated cooking.

  She walked in and Joe had stepped out of the room. His laptop was open and she saw the familiar g-chat screen. She wouldn’t have noticed it at all, except there was motion on the screen, accompanied by the faint bell sound that indicated a new message.

  She didn’t mean to snoop; she had just been in the right place at the right time. She saw only a few lines:

  5:21 PM Joe: Your pussy was so wet this morning.

  Kayla: My body is always ready when I see you. ;) You were ready too.

  5:22 PM Joe: My cock is definitely standing at attention when you enter a room.

  Kayla: Well I can’t wait until it enters my room again soon, doctor.

  Then, hearing Joe come back down the hall from the bathroom, she quickly left the room, returning to the kitchen. She felt sick. Forget Chinese food. She told the boys to heat up a frozen pizza and went upstairs to her room, flopping herself on the bed with tears in her eyes. Glancing at her Kindle, she knew losing herself in a few chapters of Fear of Flying tonight would help her avoid conversation with Joe. I am a huge hypocrite to be upset, she thought. I was just chatting with my boyfriend moment before. But something about seeing the sexual chat between her husband and another woman that felt like a punch in the stomach.

  Why wouldn’t he have a girlfriend, she reasoned with herself—a brilliant, handsome doctor in great shape? And God knew he wasn’t getting laid at home. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex. She couldn’t remember the last time they had said “I love you” to one another. Months spilled into years in an unhappy marriage, and there was certainly no point in keeping track.

  It was a marriage of convenience, had been from the start, since it took place right after she’d found out she was pregnant with the boys. They’d been dating and were getting along fine. When her diaphragm had failed, and she’d been knocked up, they had made the decision to marry. And now it was all coming back to haunt her.

  She looked at Joe’s neat side of the nightstand: everything in its place on the dusted table, and her own bedside table, covered in paperwork and moisturizers, charging cords and books. The differences here were the differences between them. He liked things neat, she preferred messy.

  She had never felt fulfilled in the marriage--she was starved for love, affection and attention, and the only thing Joe seemed to give attention to was his medical practice. She looked over at the picture on the dresser of her boys on the lacrosse field together. Love and romance had taken a backseat, except where she could find them in an ancillary way around her workplaces.

  As a workaholic, it always made sense to Eva that her affairs that revolved somehow around her career. She let her mind wander back to a memory: she’d once fucked a judge in his own chambers after a trial; he was still wearing his robe! She compartmentalized Ron at her office in DC, Charles at her office in New York. Why wouldn’t Joe be compartmentalizing someone in Baltimore?

  But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  Maggie and Dave finished lunch and the discussion of their daughter’s upcoming celebration. She had asked to meet with him, even though a phone call could easily have accomplished the interaction.

  Why does it always come back to him? thought Maggie. Entire relationships, marriages, a whole decade between them now, and she never seemed to be able to cut whatever invisible cord kept them coming back together. Then again, he never seemed able to cut that rope, either.

  “You have absolutely got to see this fantastic Art Deco building,” said Dave,. “It’s just a few blocks over. Do you have time?”

  She did. No one was running a clock on her “Back in an hour” sign at the shop.

  Smiling at this child-like excitement over simple old bricks and mortar, she asked, “So what’s the story of this poor unfortunate orphan building?”

  “They were going to tear this beauty down,” said Dave as they rounded the corner toward the building. He suddenly stopped, pointing. “Just look at her! Original copper and black marble tile façade, even the original Deco lettering.”

  “They just don’t build them like this anymore?” asked Maggie, figuring Dave’s signature comment was on its way.

  “No one could afford to build a structure like this today,” said Dave. He smiled, producing a single key. “Wanna take a look?”

  Maggie wasn’t as thrilled at the idea of dirty, abandoned buildings as Dave was, but she couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. She never could. “Sure,” she said, glad she’d worn vintage jeans for a living and not some Eva-style black skirt get-up.

  “It was an old hotel,” said Dave as they walked inside. It was dark, musty and dusty like the rest of them, thought Maggie, though she was impressed by the beautiful architecture. The lobby’s red, white and black color scheme were all visible again, since the drop ceilings and newer flooring had been removed. Gilded cherubic faces seemed to gleam at her from every corner.

  “I love that you do this,” said Maggie. “This probably would’ve ended up some new office building with cubicles and acoustic tile ceilings and blue conference rooms.”

  “I’m glad it’s going to be a hotel again
,” said Dave. He absentmindedly started rubbing Maggie’s shoulders. This turned her to putty and he knew it. She relaxed against his hands, taking in the view of the work in progress around her.

  “These old places sure had a lot of charm and romance,” said Maggie.

  “They still do,” said Dave. He turned her toward him, lifted her chin, and kissed her. His beard was rough, but Maggie had grown to like that many years before. She reached up and put her arms around him, savoring the soft familiarity of his flannel shirt. Their kiss grew in intensity and she felt him harden through his jeans. She grabbed his belt and pulled him closer to her.

  “You’ve got to see this elevator,” said Dave, pulling Maggie across the lobby by the hand.

  They stepped inside the freshly restored 1920s elevator. Maggie noted the deep sound of the “ding” as Dave pushed the number 13.

  “It’s unusual for a building to have a 13th floor, but the top floor on this one is 13,” he said. As the floors rose, he passionately pinned her against the gold corner rail of the elevator. She grabbed his ass, spinning him around and throwing a Converse hi-topped foot on top of the rail, pressing her waist against his jeans to meet his excitement.

  Ding.

  The doors opened to reveal a giant ballroom spanning the entire thirteenth floor. Huge black marble columns were the only things spanning the expanse. Gilded floor-to-ceiling mirrors covered the walls, except for one entire wall of windows that looked out over the city. Since it was one of the tallest buildings, the view was magnificent. Elegant built-in seats were spaced across the width of the exterior.

  He scooped Maggie off her feet, twirled her around the dance floor while she laughed, and gently placed her down on one of the window seats. She reached up, undid his belt buckle, and in seconds, they were naked. Their bodies so familiar with one another, yet each completely excited in this new, yet old public space. The possibility of workers appearing to paint or do plumbing was in the back of Maggie’s mind, but it didn’t stop her.

  They made love with Dave kneeling on the window seat and Maggie’s ass pressed up against the window. She imagined which other buildings might be “enjoying” this view. After the delicious, frenzied moments of shared passion, she plopped herself down on the window seat and pressed her feet up on the window.

 

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