by JD Nixon
“I love that outfit you’re wearing,” he murmured and kissed me again before stalking off towards the lift, not looking back. I watched him until he disappeared, willing my heartbeat to slow to normal. When the lift doors shut, I returned to the room and sat on the scruffy lounge again, the intense focus of six pairs of eyes.
“Isn’t there a wife missing?” I asked the Pastor politely. “I thought Heller told me you had six wives.”
“Mr Heller was not mistaken,” he replied, regarding me reprovingly for questioning the veracity of a man’s word. “My first wife Martha has stayed at home to mind the children.”
“How nice for her. And how many children do you have?” I was the queen of polite chatter.
“Twenty-eight,” he replied with pompous conceit.
“Goodness me! What a lot of children. You must be proud.” I couldn’t help myself. By my calculations that was 4.6667 children per wife, which far exceeded the average number of children per woman in this country.
“My wives are blessed with fecundity,” he proclaimed sanctimoniously, with an unspoken but evident self-credit for being some kind of super-stud. Such arrogance made my stomach turn. I would have loved to have told him to go fecund himself, but I was trying to be diplomatic for Heller’s sake.
“Your first lecture is tomorrow night, is that correct? And you will be giving two lectures? Here in this hotel?” He nodded sagely. “I presume you would like your lovely wives to attend both of your lectures to illustrate the spiritual and physical benefits of polygamy?”
“Of course.” He didn’t appear to possess a sarcasm-detector.
“What would you like me to do with your . . . wives . . . during the day while you’re busy, Pastor Peachey?”
He stared at me in astonishment. “They shall spend the days as they usually do – in solemn contemplation of our Lord and in service to their husband.”
“Sounds fun, but you don’t wish for them to visit the tourist attractions while you conduct your business? I understand they have never been to this city before? There are some wonderful attractions, including the zoo, the harbour, galleries, museums, and of course the fantastic shopping. I would be very pleased to escort them around safely.”
The wives collectively raised hopeful faces to their husband at my question. He crushed their hopes without even acknowledging them.
“Certainly not. They will maintain the Lord’s work during our stay, not serve the false god, Mammon.” Five sets of eyes lowered, disappointed, but not surprised. They were used to the hard bastard after all. He continued. “I want your presence with my wives at all times. I’m not anticipating any trouble, even though I’ve suffered harassment in the past. I don’t want to appear aggressive or alarmed. It would be my preference for you to blend in with my wives.” His eyes scanned my body, lingering on my legs and lips with scathing distaste. “More than you currently do.”
“Would you like me to dress more casually? In jeans?” I offered.
“No, you will still look too different to them. I want you to dress as my wives do. Then you won’t seem so noticeable.” No way on earth, was my first reaction. I looked over at the wives again. They were so old-fashioned, drab and submissive. “Mr Heller said I could have the arrangements that best suited my needs,” he reminded me, with a hint of something disagreeable and domineering in his eyes.
Oh, did he just? Well, Heller wasn’t the boss of me! I thought angrily, and was about to open my mouth to argue. Oh, hang on. He was the boss of me. Damn. I agreed with little eagerness. The Pastor furnished me with a look that I couldn’t read, but it set my hackles rising.
“Ladies, please escort Miss Chalmers next door and help her change.” They made moves to quietly leave his room, when he called out. “Sarah. Stay behind please. I feel as though you didn’t quite grasp the metaphorical meaning of my sermon this morning. I would like to instruct you further on the matter.”
Sarah was the youngest wife. “Yes, Husband,” she answered timidly and obediently returned to the Pastor, while the rest of us streamed next door.
Chapter 26
Their room was slightly larger, but no less shabby than the Pastor’s, containing two double beds.
“You all sleep in here?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes, Miss Chalmers,” answered Mary? Elizabeth?
“Please call me Tilly. But there are five of you?”
“One of us must stay with our husband during the night. The other four of us remain in this room.”
Eew! It was as if he had his own harem.
It seemed as though I’d be relegated to sleeping on the lounge for the few nights I was with them. I tested it with caution and could feel inner springs poking through uncomfortably. Just great! Just brilliant! Thanks a bunch, Heller.
I made them reintroduce themselves to me again, memorising their faces. Mary was thirty-seven and was plain with an unattractively large mole on her left cheek, but lovely gentle brown eyes; Elizabeth was thirty-two and was plain with watery protuberant blue eyes and surprisingly sensuous lips; Rebecca was twenty-eight and almost pretty with large dark brown eyes, lush black eyelashes and a delicate mouth; Hannah was twenty-three and had beautiful clear skin and startling blue eyes, but a concerning vacant look in her eyes; and then there was little Sarah, who was only nineteen, with glossy black hair and a sweet heart-shaped face. She was the wife still next door.
“Sarah is our husband’s favourite at the moment. She is always getting further instruction from him,” complained Rebecca.
“Yes, it’s not fair,” agreed Hannah. “I didn’t understand anything he said this morning, and yet he blesses Sarah with extra attention. Again.” She sulked.
“Now, now,” soothed Mary, the mother hen of the clutch. “It’s only natural that he needs to give Sarah more instruction at the moment. She is the youngest of us and the newest wife.”
“Our husband is not only instructing her,” contended Elizabeth. “They’re having relations. Well, that’s what always happens when I have extra instruction with him.” She looked ashamed at her boldness, but also a little smug for a fleeting moment.
“Yes,” explained Mary patiently, ignoring Elizabeth’s pride. “But the relations are part of the instruction. They illustrate the very sinful nature of relations, as our husband is always teaching us. Unfortunately, Sarah must be a very poor learner and needs to be taught quite frequently about how sinful relations are. I wouldn’t be feeling jealous of her for that reason.” She glanced around the other women, gently daring them to contradict her.
“I see what you mean. When you put it in those words,” conceded Hannah.
I bit my tongue so hard during this exchange that it started bleeding. They fussed over me when the blood trickled from between my lips. I ran to the bathroom, waving them away, insisting it was nothing, rinsing and spitting in the cracked powder blue vanity bowl. I took advantage of my bathroom break to close the door, pulling out my phone. The bathroom was ugly with floral rose pink wallpaper, a blue bathtub, blue toilet and patterned blue and pink crazed vinyl that was severely cracked in places showing its age. I sat on the closed toilet to ring Heller. He answered straight away, still driving back to the Warehouse.
“Matilda? Is everything all right? Have you forgotten something?”
“I’m miserable already,” I complained plaintively.
He wasn’t in a tolerant mood. “What did I tell you? You’ll do it with a smile.”
“But Heller,” I moaned, “He rotates his poor wives to share his bed every night. I can’t do this. Have some mercy.”
“Matilda!” His voice was showing patent signs of becoming angry, so I hung up on him, spilling out everywhere with plenty of angry myself.
In my absence, Mary had rummaged in her suitcase and handed me a hideous dress made out of stiff cotton, with a nausea-inducing pattern of roses entwined in a trellis that was repeated regularly on the cloth. I snatched it from her ungraciously, not even saying thanks, still ang
ry with Heller.
“This is my prettiest dress, Tilly,” she said humbly, her eyes anxious when she noted my annoyance. “I hope you like it. I made it myself with material and thread I paid for with my own money. I don’t have a lot of my own money, so I only wear it on the most special occasions.”
Well, I’m sure you can imagine just how low I felt right at that moment.
“It’s very beautiful, Mary,” I lied. “But shouldn’t you save it? It’s far too precious to give to me to wear. I’m not good with nice clothes and I’ve ruined a lot already this year. I’m a bit reckless and I would just die if something happened to this beautiful dress. Nobody’s ever given me something so special to wear before and I’m feeling nervous about taking it. Don’t you have a dress less important for me to wear?”
She glanced down, red flushing her cheeks, ashamed for a minute, before facing me again with a determined smile. “Why no, Tilly. I don’t have much of a wardrobe, and I’ll need all my ordinary clothes for our public appearances here. This is the one dress I can spare the most. And our husband was most insistent that we give you a dress. We don’t want to displease him. And none of the other wives has a special dress to spare.”
Damn my big mouth! I thanked her prettily and determined there and then to send her some money to replace the dress, because I just knew something was going to happen to it. No, forget that, thinking of the mean-mouthed Pastor taking the money for his own purposes. I would press some cash, some American cash, into her hands as we parted. It was the only way she could use it for herself. But how on earth was I going to get my hands on some US dollars though, stuck in this dump? I’d have to ask someone for a huge favour, and by someone I certainly did not mean my dreamboat of a boss, the Ill-Tempered One, but someone sweeter, more amenable. I smiled suddenly. Daniel! I’d call him first thing in the morning.
I proceeded to take off my jacket and blouse in front of them, not bothering to go into the bathroom. I was surrounded by married women after all. Where was the danger? The women’s eyes goggled with interest at the sight of my lacy push-up bra.
“That’s real interesting underwear,” Rebecca noted with almost overbearing curiosity. She wasn’t alone in the room in that level of inquisitiveness, all the wives pressing in on me for a closer look.
“It’s a push-up bra,” I explained. “It makes your breasts look bigger. Improves your cleavage.” And I showed them. There was a buzz of excited chatter among the women.
“But Tilly, you already have a very nice bosom. Anyone can fathom that just by casting their eye over you. Why would you want your breasts to look even bigger?” asked Rebecca again, genuine puzzlement on her face. “Surely that would only encourage men to look at you in a lustful manner?”
“Yes, that’s the whole point.” There were four gasps of disbelief.
“You want men to look at you in lust?” asked Elizabeth, aghast at the thought.
“Some men. Sometimes.” I pulled off my skirt and again there was great interest in my lacy panties.
“They’re so pretty,” said Mary. “Why would you wear something so pretty when it will only be hidden under your clothes?”
“They make me feel feminine. I love to wear them. I love to think of a very special man discovering them for himself one day.” Heller suddenly flashed into my brain. My brain then crushed the thought mercilessly. He was my boss, for God’s sake! I wouldn’t be showing him my lacy knickers anytime soon.
The concept of wearing clothes for personal pleasure was clearly unknown to them and a disbelieving chatter rippled through them again. I suspected that I would be the topic of many a conversation for a good while after this visit was over. I slipped the horrible dress over my head, and Mary did up the back zip for me. I went to the long cracked mirror tiles glued to the wall and looked at my reflection. Yuck! It hung like a circus tent on me, except that it was too short, my wrists and ankles poking out, as I was much taller than any of the wives. I took hold of the cloth of the dress and pulled it back behind me, making the dress tighter against my body, emphasising my curves.
“That looks better. You should make these dresses tighter. You all have lovely figures and should show them off a bit more.”
“Goodness, Tilly! Our husband wouldn’t allow that,” Mary insisted, but she stood in front of the mirror and pulled the material of her dress tightly against her body as well, giggling ashamedly at the result. They all took turns to do the same, all with the same gales of guilty giggles.
I sat on a chair while Elizabeth plaited my hair for me. It wasn’t anywhere near as long as the other women’s, but she was able to give me a fairly neat plait. I tied the brown headscarf over my hair and contemplated myself in the mirror. I looked a sight and smiled at my reflection. If only Heller could see me now!
I went into the bathroom to remove my heavily applied makeup. It was a bit crowded in the bathroom with the five of us, but I didn’t have the heart to ask the other four women to leave. I was the most interesting thing that had happened to them for years.
“Our husband doesn’t allow makeup,” warned Hannah, as she watched me wipe away my mascara.
“Yes, but I’m not one of his wives, am I? So I don’t have to do what he says.” That concept was revolutionary to them and they discussed it heatedly for a while as I continued to clean my face, before deciding that I was correct. I didn’t have to do what he said.
“Do you do what Mr Heller says?” enquired Elizabeth.
“Sometimes. If I’m in the mood. Depends what he wants.”
“Are you having relations with Mr Heller?” asked Rebecca breathlessly. “He’s very . . .” Her vocabulary failed her at that point. The other wives nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with her unspoken but unmistakable judgement on Heller’s incredible very-ness.
“No! He’s my boss. It’s not a good idea to have, um, relations with your boss. I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment, but I hope to have one again soon, and I can tell you ladies that I plan to have relations with him as often as possible.”
“You want to have relations?” Rebecca queried.
“Oh God, yes! I’m desperate for them.” They were shocked by my blasphemy. “Sorry,” I apologised.
Mary was puzzled. “You enjoy relations?”
“You better believe it, sweetheart! I can’t wait to have them again. I’m going a bit crazy without them, to be honest. It’s been such a long time.”
“But our husband teaches us that righteous women never enjoy relations. They are a burden for women to suffer for their sinfulness so that they may please their husbands and bear their children.”
“All I can say is if you’re not enjoying relations, then your husband isn’t doing it right,” I declared firmly. “When it’s done properly, relations are equally satisfying and pleasurable to both men and women.”
They urgently wanted to discuss this radical idea further, but Sarah arrived back in the room then, and the conversation turned to more general matters. Sarah had not enjoyed pleasurable relations with her husband and appeared downcast. The others kindly pressed her on her troubles.
“Our husband tells me that I don’t understand religious matters and I need further instruction. I may even have to have more instruction tonight.” She shook her head sadly, her voice catching in a sob. “Why am I so stupid that I can’t understand what he says? I hate further instruction with him!”
“Hush!” admonished Mary nervously. “Our husband may hear! He is only in the next room. You must be a good woman and listen to him carefully. He is very wise in such matters and only wishes for you to be a righteous and obedient wife.”
“I am obedient! I do everything he tells me to. Even when to me it seems unpleasant and . . . very sinful.”
Mary clapped her hands and enthused, “But that’s wonderful, Sarah! You are starting to understand the sinful nature of relations. And our husband is showing you the way by making you experience very sinful relations. That helps you to understand.”
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Sarah nodded, but still was unconvinced. “Perhaps if I stop struggling so much, he may think of me as being more obedient.”
“Possibly,” chimed in Elizabeth. “But remember that our husband maintains that it is virtuous for a woman to struggle against relations, and that her ultimate submission is very pleasing to God as a sign of her obedience to her husband. Our husband is always particularly pleased when there is a struggle at the beginning of relations.”
They all contemplated this and agreed that it was true. I was sickened listening to them. I went to my bag and pulled out the boots I’d borrowed off Niq, pulling them on slowly. Should I do anything? Say anything? They were all adults and presumably all the women had been willing to join the polygamous family knowing what it entailed. Who was I to judge the way they lived? I always tried not to judge other people. None of them looked unhappy in their life. They were fed, housed and clothed and maybe they were truly contented. I had no way of really knowing. I pushed these thoughts out of my brain and decided to just concentrate on the job at hand. Ultimately, their personal affairs were none of my business.
There was a knock on the door, and Pastor Peachey stepped into the room carrying a very large and old Bible.
“Evening prayer time, wives,” he announced, scrutinising me in my wifely outfit. Again that strange look that I didn’t care for passed across his face. The women fussed around arranging chairs in a circle. There weren’t enough to go around and a couple of the wives subjected themselves to sitting on the floor, next to his chair. I sat apart on one of the beds, arms crossed, watching them in a detached way. I wasn’t going to pretend to be religious for their sakes, and it would be nothing but hypocritical for me to join in their prayer group.