Fantasies of a Housewife

by Tina Pollick

  She gritted her teeth, stepping closer to hiss, “Because Ralph, I told you I would drop her off. Her overnight bag isn’t packed yet.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You told me last night that it was,” he scowled back, glancing at her raised hand. “And, why on earth are you still wearing our wedding ring?”

  That got everyone’s attention and finally placed where she had seen those eyes before. This had to be Jessica’s father. The resemblance between them was too close to deny. Julia’s face turned a bright crimson as she shifted and quieted her voice, making it hard to catch if Sharon hadn’t nonchalantly inched closer. “I haven’t had the time, now lower your voice!”

  The man shook his head, “No, this is getting way out of line Julia! We have been separated for seven months now. I bought you the damn car you wanted and even a new house to live in. I get weekends with my baby, and I think it’s ridiculous that I can’t pick her up. I’ve played by your rules, and I am sick of it. Did my attorney contact you yet? I want more rights!”

  The silence following his outburst was comical. The whole skinny mini gang was watching in rapt attention as their leader fought to try and defuse the situation. Too late, her secret was out. Her perfect family hadn’t been perfect in almost a year, and now her scrawny, lying ass was in the frying pan.

  “You’re causing a scene!” she hissed.

  “I don’t care, I want to see my daughter and you can’t stop me.”

  “Damn it Ralph! Why do you always have to ruin my life!” she snapped back. “I have a reputation here that you just destroyed!”

  “Me?!” he roared. “I’m the selfish one? For what, wanting to be a part of Jessica’s life and proudly standing here, openly gay?! We have been over this before. I can’t change who I am and you said you accepted it as long as I gave into your petty demands. Each one has been met. Now I am stepping up and giving my daughter the time she deserves with her fathers.”

  “Fathers?!” Julia screeched, taking a step back as her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.

  “Yes, we’re getting married.”

  The shrill sound of the bell cut off any other conflict between them as the doors were pushed open and the sea of bodies rushed out, blocking the bickering couple from view.

  Sharon laughed the next Monday when Crystal ran up to her side with a huge smile. Apparently Jessica had been pulled out of school and wouldn’t be around anymore to torment either of them. The scandal spread like wildfire, drawing everyone’s attention from her own slip up. Last minute calls had come in like crazy, making the small party a huge event.

  “You know, I never thought I would say this, but I can’t wait for school to start again.” Crystal mused as they made their way to the end of the lot.

  Sharon laughed, ruffling her daughter’s hair playfully. “You know, hunny, I feel the exact same way.”

  “Who’s going to run all the school functions now?” Crystal teased as her mother unlocked the van doors.

  “Hmm… Maybe I will try to,” she teased back.

  Crystal made a face, “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mom.”

  Sharon chuckled, shutting the driver’s door as Crystal buckled her seatbelt. “Maybe not, but you never know.”

  The End.

  Tamara’s Goove

  By

  Scarlett Jade

  Tamara Jones had always been a good girl. She got married right out of high school and faithfully took care of her husband, Tom, and their three children, Lacy, Terry and Kendra, who were all off at college now. She was the church secretary, worked in the nursery, fed the homeless. She was good. The problem was, as she was screaming up to her mid forties- a little too fast- she realized she was lonely, unfulfilled, and flat out horny.

  Tom had been spending time at work recently, a lot of time at work. He'd recently gotten a beautiful, willowy blonde with huge, perky tits as his secretary and Tamara had a feeling he'd been cheating. Oh, no, the red lipstick on his collar wasn't the tell-tale sign, nor were the hickies on his neck he so valiantly tried to hide by smearing off-color concealer on. The tell-tale sign had been when he called her by the wrong name in bed, then promptly finished, rolled over, and pretended he was asleep.

  She'd railed, she'd screamed, she’d begged him to tell her the truth. He wasn't man enough and instead, he told her he wanted a divorce. Apparently him and Twiggy- yes, that was really her name- had gotten serious. I'm sure it was a plus she could put her legs behind her head, like the slut she is. He never had been much of a man, really, she smirked to herself, her full red lips tipping up on one corner. She'd been faking orgasms since they got together as teens, hoping his awkward fumbling fingers would improve with practice, and he would learn to last longer than thirty seconds. Sadly, he'd never improved. Practice did not make perfect in this case.

  She knew her body wasn't as tight and perfect as it had been when she was eighteen. Giving birth to, and breastfeeding, three hungry kids, and having a couple of surgeries throughout the years had taken their toll on her body.

  She stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom, naked as the day she was born. She turned to the side, her long auburn hair slipping over her shoulder. Her breasts were full and sagged slightly, she had scars and her beloved tiger stripes (her term of endearment for her stretch marks) running down her curvaceous stomach. She'd gained a little weight in the last few years, eating to comfort herself, but she was still desirable, damn it. So, she had a few dimples on the backs of her thighs and her ass was like two melons in a pair of pants. It was her body and she was damn proud of it; curves and all.

  She walked to her vanity and pulled out an old tube of cherry red lipstick. He'd always hated that color on her. She leaned forward and smeared it on her mouth. She pursed her lips and planted a kiss on the mirror before turning and looking at the divorce papers strewn on their bed. Fuck it; it's time to get what I want. She picked up the paper she had left to sign, slapped it on the black bedside table and signed it with a flourish. She pressed her red mouth to the paper then wrote, Go to hell, Tom, you never were good in bed anyway.

  She walked to the closet they had shared and flipped through her clothes. Everything was appropriate, no cleavage showing, knee length or longer skirts, modest heels. She grabbed some jeans and a tee shirt, her modest white cotton granny panties, and her old standby white bra.

  She sighed in disgust. “No more of this shit, Tamara,” she whispered as she pulled the clothes on.

  She walked down the staircase, marveling at the home they'd built together over the last twenty-five years. He was happy to walk away from it all, leaving her the house and everything inside. He'd even been willing to accept her lawyer's demands; she got alimony for the rest of her life, half of his stocks, his bank accounts, and she even got his prized BMW; a stupid, midlife crisis silver affair. Much like Twiggy is his stupid, midlife crisis fake titted blonde affair, she smirked as she slipped her flip flops on.

  She opened the front door and picked up her purse and her keys, walking out to the flashy BMW. She opened the door and slipped behind the wheel, her pulse pounding. “I'm ready for my new life,” she whispered, her heart thundering behind the thin pink cotton of her tee shirt.

  She started the car and pulled smoothly out of the drive. She turned the radio on, and found a station with some girl singing about being stronger. She liked the tune and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She'd been listening to Tom's favorite music, classical, for so long, she had no idea who anyone was anymore. Was this woman with the beautiful voice the illustrious Ms. Underwood she had heard so much about? Or, was this someone else with a voice like an angel? Whomever it was belting out the lyrics, she could definitely relate to her song.

  As she drove from the suburbs into the city, her nerves threatened to take over, but she forced the fear back. “Tamara, it's time to take your life back, girl. You can do this,” she convinced herself.

  She parked in front of the high end salon which she'd made an appointm
ent at a few days before. She was getting the full experience, from waxing to hair and makeup. She had plans and she wanted to look her best. She put some quarters in the meter and walked across the sidewalk to the sleek glass door. She opened and the scent of sandalwood tickled her nose. A gorgeous man was at the silver metal counter. He smiled at her brightly.

  “Hi there, Gorgeous. Can I help you?” He leaned forward, his silk shirt pulling taut across his smooth chest and rested his hands on the counter.

  She swallowed nervously. “Yeah, you can. I'm Tamara. I have an appointment.”

  He grinned again. “I'm Paul, Tamara. What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman! What are we doing for you today?”

  She laughed weakly. “What aren't we doing?” She motioned from the top of her head to the tips of her unpainted toes.

  “Special occasion, Babe?” He wiggled his brows.

  “Yeah, I am a free woman,” she whispered, her cheeks going hot.

  “So, you're getting your groove back?” He smiled again, his tanned cheeks dimpling. She wanted to swoon.

  “Yeah, I am.” She nodded briskly.

  “Well, why don't you come on back here and let's get you going?” He sashayed through the salon, his incredible ass cupped in his white jeans. She shook her head.

  Oh damn, he's gay, she realized as she followed him. She swallowed nervously. I really have to learn the difference between hot and straight and hot and gay. She shook her head ruefully and sat down in the black leather chair he pointed to.

  “So, Tamara, Love, what are we gonna do with your hair?” He put a leopard print cape around her shoulders, lifting her thick hair and securing it behind her neck.

  “I want to look like someone different. I've always worn my hair long for my husband…” She paused, momentarily. “I mean, ex-husband,” she corrected herself.

  He nodded, running his long, tan fingers through her hair. “How different, Tamara?”

  “I want to turn into a cougar. I want to have sex with gorgeous guys,” she spluttered out, her cheeks going crimson.

  “Oh, Honey.” He patted her shoulder. “We can handle that.” He ran a comb through her hair. “So, when did you get divorced?” He clipped a long lock up on top of her head and started cutting.

  She watched in fascination as long swaths of her auburn hair fell to the floor. “Um, I signed the papers today.”

  “Congratulations, Love.” He smiled brightly. “So, what's the plan?”

  She shrugged as he kept cutting. “I don't know. I want to get something sexy to wear. I want to feel sexy and maybe go to a bar and pick someone up. I've never done this, Paul. I've always been so damn GOOD. I am tired of being good. I want to be someone else. I've wasted twenty-five years on a man who didn't love me.” Frustrated tears filled her hazel eyes.

  “Don't you dare cry. We have too much to do today, Love. Then, I can tell you exactly where to go to get something to wear. You will feel as beautiful as you are by the end of today, I promise you that.” He squeezed her shoulder and turned her away from the lighted mirror. “Just trust me.”

  “Okay,” she whispered nervously. She closed her eyes and let him work his magic. At one point she had a woman filing her fingernails and painting them scarlet, with another working on her toes, while he cut her hair. “Paul,” she murmured.

  “Yeah, Love.” His brow was furrowed as he cut.

  “Am I crazy?”

  “Hell, no, Beautiful. You're coming into your own. I will make a call to a shop I frequent, and they will pull some stuff for you to try on.” He smiled down into her face. “You're going to set the world on fire, Tamara. We can handle the outside; you gotta find your inner sex goddess and set her free, Babe.”

  She laughed. “That may be a challenge.”

  “Oh Honey, not with the right man. He will rock your world. Hell if I wasn't batting for the other team, I'd give you a run for your money.” He winked, his lid slipping over his incredible crystalline blue eye.

  “It's a shame, 'cause I'd let you.” She found herself laughing.

  “See? You are gonna be fine. Keep doing that. Flirt. Tease. Let yourself go, Tamara. Now, let's finish this cut and do some makeup before sending you on your way.” He cut and styled her hair, blowing it out straight. She marveled at herself in the mirror. He'd cut her hair to her shoulders, a saucy bang across her forehead and lots of soft, sexy layers. He'd lined her eyes in plum, smoking them with different shades of purple. She had flawless creamy skin and cherry red, glistening lips. He handed her a bag. “Here is your makeup, Tamara. I talked to the owner. We aren't charging you for today. You just gotta come back and tell us how much fun you had.”

  “Oh, Paul, let me pay you!” She pulled her wallet out of her purse.

  “No, Tamara. It's our gift. Your first steps into being Tamara the sex queen, instead of Tamara the good girl. Here is the address to the shop I want you to go to. Don't be too surprised. Go with it. Have FUN.” He squeezed her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Go on, our sexy Cinderella.”

  I just hope my fantasy doesn't end at midnight... She walked out of the salon with a spring in her step. She climbed into the BMW and plugged the address into the GPS. She drove down the street, sneaking glances at herself in the rear view mirror. Her eyes looked more green than hazel and she actually looked... hot. She found herself grinning and then sobering quickly as she parked in front of a store. Lingerie in several erotic styles hung on waif like mannequins in the window. She swallowed nervously and closed her eyes for a split second. I can do this. She forced herself out of the car and into the shop.

  A young salesgirl looked up as she walked in, her black lined eyes going wide. “Are you Tamara?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I'm Liz. Paul called me. I have some stuff pulled out for you. Come on back.” She motioned to the dressing rooms covered in red curtains at the back of the store. Tamara followed, her eyes widening at the different outfits she saw. Her heart drummed nervously as she stepped into the dressing room and Liz pulled the curtain. “Okay, let's measure you for a bra,” Liz smiled, pulling out a tape measure. She stripped to her panties and the girl measured her quickly. “Be back!”

  She looked at the sexy clothing Liz had pulled for her. Low rise jeans, cleavage bearing tops, a slinky red dress with a short skirt and a slit that would probably show quite a bit of her thigh. Liz came back with a selection of bras. “Try these on and let me know what you think, okay?” She nodded and Liz left her alone. She pulled her old granny panties off and found a pair of black lace thong underwear. She shimmied into them and looked at herself in the mirror, frowning. She swallowed back the panic and pulled on a black and red bra. It was a push up and made her breasts look incredible. She found herself having a little fun. She bypassed the jeans and tops and went straight for the cherry red dress. She pulled it over her head and bit her lip.

  “Liz, can you come zip me up?” The girl came in and smiled wide.

  “Tamara, you look HOT!” She zipped the slinky dress up and Tamara tossed her hair back. She posed in the mirror, looking at the gorgeous woman staring back at her. The dress seemed to be made for her; it skimmed her curves in all the right places. “Let me get some shoes for you.” She looked down at Tamara's feet. “You're a size eight, right?”

  Tamara nodded and kept staring at herself in the mirror. The skirt rode high on her thighs and dipped low, giving sneak peeks of the edge of her bra. She felt wanton and sexy. Liz came back with some shiny black sky high heels and she slipped them on. They made all the difference. Her ass and legs looked incredible. “I want to buy this outfit,” she breathed. “I want to wear it out of here. Hell, I want to buy everything you pulled. I need a new wardrobe.” She swiped her card at the counter and walked out of the shop, bags in hand. She had added some gold tone jewelry and a matching purse to her look.

  The sun was setting as she put her clothes in the car. She pulled out her iPhone and searched for bars. She took a breath and closed
her eyes, putting her finger on the bar that she hoped would land her some incredible sex tonight. She put the address into her GPS and drove smoothly out into traffic.

  She parked the BMW a few minutes later and let out a breath. This bar was upscale, not some hole in the wall. She freshened her makeup quickly in the rear view mirror. She could see guys in suits walking in. Must be getting a cocktail, she mused as she stepped out of the car and walked across the street. She walked into the bar and glanced around quickly before stepping up to the glistening mahogany bar and tapping her scarlet nails against it.

  The bartender came up to her and smiled. “Hey, Beautiful. What can I get you?”

  She blushed. “Something sexy.”

  He grinned and leaned forward. “Looks to me like you've got that handled.” His grin went deeper, and dimples popped up in his cheeks. “How about a Sex on the Beach?”

  “What's that?” she whispered.

  He smiled slowly. “It's something sweet and sexy, just like you. Sure to put you in a good mood.”

  She tossed her hair back and took a deep breath. “Alright, then. Yes, please.”

  He quickly made her a drink and handed it to her. “This one is on me, gorgeous, as long as you sit right here and give me some eye candy for the next ten minutes.”

  She hopped up on the stool and readjusted the top of her dress. She picked up the glass and took a slow sip, savoring the sweet notes on her tongue. “Okay. What's your name?”