by KT Morrison
He got to the end of the cul-de-sac, signalled for his driveway. He was feeling pretty good now. Not guilty that he’d dodged that responsibility. What’s done was done. Put your head down and get on with it.
Tyler’s ninja bike was in the driveway. And like that his stomach gurgled again. The sickness was real. He was clutched, his organs all at once condensing, drawn to the gravitational core of his being, compressing to a dense hot magma. Jess’ minivan was parked ahead of Tyler’s bike. He looked at his watch. It was four-thirty. He was home an hour early. Jess and Tyler would have been off now for an hour. He tried to swallow but he couldn’t. He had to grip the wheel tight and concentrate, force the saliva down his clamped, dry throat. Do it before he choked. His heart was pounding. What were they doing? Or was that the most ridiculous question? He knew what they were doing.
He opened the door of the Buick, felt like he’d just want to fall on the hot black driveway, feel its heat on him, just disappear, swallowed up in it’s toxic bitumen. He put a foot down, stepped out. He stood next to the car, shut the door quietly, barely latching it. He looked up at the window of their bedroom, set in the shingles of the peaked roof, reflecting the blue of the sky behind him. A seagull swept across the glass. He heard them. Faint, Jess’s voice high and brittle behind the panes. Ah, ah, ah, over and over. A steady passionate rhythm. She was being fucked.
His shoulders and arms were heavy, a buzzing dread coursing through his veins as he walked his way up to the front door. Key in, lock turned and he slipped into the house. It was louder in here. They were in the bedroom, the door closed, but their sounds of passion, loud and uninhibited, were clear as a bell standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Jess was proclaiming. She was joyous, exuberant.
One foot in front of the other, step by step, Pete forced himself up the stairs. It was louder now. They were louder and he was closer. He could hear Jess, low, growling, Fuck me, fuck me, come on, the headboard was rattling, banging against the drywall. The wet sounds of their bodies slapping together in rhythm with the headboard, the bed squeaking its springs. A dirty symphony. A loud slap. Like a cymbal. Tyler’s big hand across her ass, maybe the back of her thigh.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, oh, yeah, I’m coming.” Jess again, letting him know it was working. The pounding intensified, Tyler growled. Pete stopped near the top. Couldn’t bring a foot any farther. He dropped his head and listened.
Jess’s voice warbled with Tyler’s thrusting, carrying out one long note that turned into a howl. She was coming. He’d never heard her like that before though. She went on, her orgasm lingering as that kid kept fucking her. Part of Pete was happy for her, part of him loved to hear her make that sound. But his normal arousal wasn’t there. He was disheartened. This was a betrayal. She could fuck that guy every day and Pete would root her on, tell her to go for it. He’d sit and watch or she could tell him later all the juicy details. Because they were a couple and they had to do this wicked thing together or it was infidelity. A silly twist to their arrangement but true just the same. They had rules and she was breaking them. She was fucking him behind Pete’s back in their marital bed. This wasn’t right. How could she not see this wasn’t right? She was still his wife. She should know better.
It was Tyler’s turn now, his pounding reaching a crescendo, then he roared as he came. Rah, rah, again and again seven times, ten times, spewing his seed. Where? In a condom, on Jess’s belly, splashing her face? Jess was encouraging him, hissing, Give me that come, through her gritted teeth.
He turned and stepped down the stairs. Today was not the day for confrontations. Boy, he thought dealing with Karla would have been bad. He’d have been better off staying and dealing with her than coming home to this. Grandaddy of all confrontations. His wife fucking her lover before her husband got home, spreading her legs for his big tool on the very bed her husband slept in next to her. Would she lie about this? Never tell him it happened?
He got himself to the kitchen, bent over the sink, rested his elbows on the edge. He could be sick. He could throw up.
The house seemed so quiet now with those two spent in the bedroom. Where was everyone? Where were the boys? Where was Sargent? He lifted his head, a great struggle, and looked out the window. Sargent was out there, sitting in the grass watching out the chain-link. The yard backed out to a soccer field, a public park, and he was watching a big group of kids out there kicking a ball around. The sun glinted off their bikes leaning up against the fence. He could hear lawnmowers out there, kids shouting to pass the ball. Real great day.
He felt cheated, but also, strangely, something else: Left out. Like finding out a bunch of his good friends, eight of them, went to Six Flags when he was eleven and no one even asked him if he wanted to go. Everyone standing around on Monday talking about what a great time they had.
Without me. She’s doing it without me?
He could hear a heavy body coming bouncing down the stairs. Making the old steps creak with his weight. Pete couldn’t get out of here. He was caught. Now they’ll know he knows.
Tyler strode into the kitchen. Naked, head down, his giant, plump cock still mostly hard, wagging and bouncing, sticking straight out. He was glossy with sweat, his hair hung down over his forehead. Veins bulged, standing out in his big arms and up through his shoulders.
“Oh, shit,” Tyler said, looking up now. He stopped.
“Oh, shit is right.”
“Hey, Pete.”
Pete didn’t say anything. Tyler put his hands up like, Hey, you caught me.
Then he shrugged, and continued on, walked right up next to Pete to stand at the counter. He reached up and opened a cupboard, brought down a drinking glass. He turned to the sink and Pete gave him some room. He watched him run the tap, test the temperature then put the glass under the stream.
“She’s a little thirsty,” Tyler said without looking over.
Pete looked him up and down. Not much taller than Pete, but voluminous. Big arms and neck and shoulders, rounded, jacked, inflated. His stomach muscles rippled while he stood there, swishing the glass while it filled. His big cock was pressed up against Pete’s kitchen cupboards, going sideways, its eye looking right at Pete. It was long enough to go past his hip, look around it, keep an eye on the husband of the woman it just fucked.
Tyler took a sip of Jess’ water and grunted something to Pete before turning to leave the kitchen. Pete went to follow, looked back and saw the long, shiny mark his cock had left on the cupboard door. He reached back, sighing, exasperated, grabbed a dishcloth and wiped it away. Was that from his own semen? It couldn’t be from Jess’s insides—he came inside a condom, right?
Pete caught up with him on the staircase, saw him at the top, his big, bare, bubble butt, his heavy balls, then he turned and stepped into the bedroom, closed the door. Pete got as far as the top of the stairs and stopped again. Couldn’t get any farther.
He heard Tyler’s low voice say something in there. Heard Jess give a little laugh. The bed squeaked, he heard a wedding ring clink on a drinking glass. Some more quiet talking, another little girl giggle. Soft footsteps.
The door opened and Jess came out, tying her white terry robe at the waist. She was bare-legged, naked under there. Her face and chest were splotchy, she was sweaty, her hair heavy, tucked behind her little ears. She was glowing.
“Hi,Pete. You’re home early.”
He didn’t know what to say. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head at her. He couldn’t speak, he sat down heavily, four stairs from the top. Jess came down to him, sat herself a few stairs higher.
He sat silent for a while, looking at her perfect feet. Her well-formed toes, the healthy nails. He wanted to bend to them, kiss them. Let her off the hook. But this was too much. What if the boys had witnessed what she did? She was bat-shit crazy to do this.
“Where is Andy? He’s not home is he?”
“No, Pete, he’s still at daycare.”
; “Jess, it’s after four-thirty.”
“I know, I pick him up at five. It’s just an extra fifteen dollars, they don’t mind.”
“Wait, has this happened before?”
She held his gaze for a moment. She’d been caught. She said, “No.” Too quiet. Couldn’t even convince herself.
“You’re lying, Jess, I can see it. You’re the worst liar.”
She shrugged and looked down at the bottom of the stairs.
“Jess, look at me.”
She looked at him. Her expression wasn’t quite what he expected. Her lips were firm. She was mad at him. Worried that her mean old husband was going to ruin her fun. “Yes, all right,” she said, “it’s happened before.”
“How many times?”
She flicked her hand at him, exasperated, said, “I don’t know Pete. A couple...”
“Where’s Petey?”
“He’s at Noah’s place, he goes there after school, like, every day.”
“Jess he could come home and find you two.”
She scrunched her face up, shook her head at Pete—that would never happen, Pete, you’re being an idiot.
“It’s true Jess, he could come home unexpected.”
“He won’t.” She was still shaking her head. She was in denial.
“I came home unexpected, didn’t I?”
It stopped her head shaking, but he thought she might have rolled her eyes. “The bedroom door is locked.”
“Jess, the minute I got out of the car, what was the first thing?”
“I don’t know, Pete—the first thing what?”
“I heard you up here, screaming. I could hear you out on the street. Jess, the neighbours might have heard you.”
She raised her eyebrows, still looking away from him. “Oh,” she said.
“Yeah, oh. What would Petey think was happening to his mother if he came up the driveway, heard that?”
It made her smile.
“Are you fucking smiling?”
“No, Pete, come on. Look, I’m sorry. It was stupid. I shouldn’t do it. I know already.”
“Are you using condoms?”
“Of course.”
“Are you lying about that too?”
“No.”
Pete put his hand on her knee, watched it cover her thin leg, felt her warm under his touch. She put her hand over his.
“Pete, I really am sorry. I really do know how crazy this is.”
“Open your legs, Jess.”
“What?”
“Open your legs.”
“What—no, Pete. Why?”
“Prove he didn’t come in you.”
“Pete, don’t be gross. We’re using condoms.”
“Show me.”
“Pete, don’t be a pervert.”
“I’m serious. Fucking prove it to me. Show me.”
“No.”
“Jess, if you’re letting him fuck you without a condom, I swear, that’s it.”
Pete got his hand over her other knee and forced her legs apart. She resisted, but she didn’t fight him off. She was only trying to be difficult.
She rolled her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Let him examine her.
He lowered his head to look up under her robe. Her pretty little pussy had been beaten up. She was shiny, reddened, her labia bruised and puckered. There was nothing leaking from her.
“Satisfied?”
“Thank you,” he said and let her knees go. She brought her legs together, adjusted her robe, laid it across her thighs again.
She seemed bothered. Shaking her head and bouncing her feet while they sat there not saying anything for a moment.
“We’ll talk about this later,” she said as she stood up again, holding the bottom of the robe to her so he wouldn’t see up it. She was mad at him now?
“Jess, you can have him over for dinner and fuck him any time in front of me. We can make arrangements, make sure the boys are—”
“Pick Andy up, please, it’s almost five.” She walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her, left him sitting on the stairs.
He listened to her footsteps in the bedroom, he could hear Tyler say, Uh-oh, somebody’s in trouble, in a deep, chastising sing-song voice. Jess was laughing. Somebody’s been a bad girl, she said. The bed squeaked.
Jess enjoyed hurting him. The pain on this beautiful, sunny October afternoon was precise, acute. The worst, most profound humiliation she had ever delivered. Was it on purpose? A game of pain? Was she doing this for Pete? Obviously her own enjoyment—but was any of it for him, or was she only thinking of herself? I mean, this particular game required him coming home early. She couldn’t predict that. Was she hoping to be discovered, or was she really just fucking Tyler for sport? How did she figure her husband in this? Maybe she wasn’t.
God, he could lose her for real. He really could lose her for real.
7
Pas de Bourée
Thursday, October 6th
Jess washed the sliding glass door with a wad of paper towels sprayed with generic window cleaner and Pete watched her carefully while he mowed the lawn. He walked slow behind the mower looking at her slim legs work. The way she moved, even just washing a window, you could tell she’d been a dancer.
She was wearing a pale blue tank top with spaghetti straps and shorts, her silky hair up in a twist. Her legs were graceful, muscular, and they worked an inadvertent sort of Pas De Bourrée while she cleaned.
What was she thinking right now? Was she thinking about the streaks she might be leaving, maybe Petey’s little league in an hour... Or was it darker, dirtier? Was she thinking of all the things Tyler did to her—things that were so great she had to have them, even running around behind Pete’s back and shunting the kids’ schedules? What goes on in her head? How well can you really know someone?
Pete had given her his trust. He’d given her his darkest fears and secrets. The keys to his psyche. He’d really only known her for nine years. In the grand scheme of things how long was that really? People divorced all the time. She could go and tell all the people she knew that Pete had a little dick and he had fantasies about seeing his wife with better men. Embarrass him, how would he walk around town anymore? He’d have to move away.
Petey was pushing his little brother on the swing at the play-set, dressed and ready to go in his little league outfit. Pete shut the mower down and walked it back to the garden shed, wheeling it in and then pushing it off to the side. He filled up the edge trimmer with the gas/oil mix, holding a cloth underneath so it wouldn’t spill.
Thursday night, more nice weather, but the days were getting shorter. The sky above their well-kept house still bright but getting that deep haze as the sun started to descend. Pete Jr. had baseball in an hour. Minor 7 Fall Baseball, only two more games left in the season before it would be too dark for them to play in the evenings. Kid was no slugger but he had great fun out there, loved spending time with his friends.
Jess was watching him from the back door, standing outside on the concrete step in her bare feet. It stopped him dead. The light had crossed her glasses, put the reflection of the hazy sky across them so he couldn’t see her eyes but her soft lips were spread in a gentle smile. Her hand came up and her fingers danced a little wave to him.
Jess would never hurt him for real. She would never leave him. She was his sweetheart. However it had come to be, whatever black magic he’d cast, they were meant to be together.
He’d give her what she wanted. He couldn’t wait for her to get it. He moved to the back of the shed where she couldn’t see him and he sat down on a squat barrel of fertilizer. He wanted to watch her again. He wanted to witness her ecstasy. He ran his hands through his hair, cradled his head, rested his elbows on his knees. God help him, he didn’t know why, but he ached to watch her again with Tyler. Ached to see her small fingers and tiny nails scratch across that kid’s muscular back as he fucked her.
8
Party Cake
Tuesday
, October 18th
Boy, she had really messed up. It was two and a half weeks ago, but Pete was still feeling it. She had stuck a knife in him deeply that day. It was exquisite.
Jess fiddled with her glasses as she walked quickly down the busy hall of the school, headed for the staff parking, her long cardigan flowing behind her like a cape. She had a thousand things to do.
“Mom!” Petey’s little voice yelled behind her from the other end of the hall. She turned and saw him through the crowd of kids. She shook her head at him, smiling, and she put a finger up to her pursed lips to remind him not to be so loud, to be more polite in public. They met in the middle of the hall and Jess tossed her heavy school bag behind her hips so she could kneel down put her hand on his shoulder. She’d like to give him a kiss but he’d warned her about doing that to him at school. He did not like it.
“Sorry, Mom, I wanted to catch you before you got outside.”
“That’s fine, Petey. Are you going to Noah’s or are you coming home with me?”
“Noah’s mom’s here, I’m going with her...”
“Okay, Petey, but remember we’ve got dinner with your cousins tonight, so don’t be too late. You need to get cleaned up and changed before we go over. I need you home by five.”
He pulled away from her, pretty sure his mom might give him a kiss anyway, he said, “Okay, bye, Mom,” and trotted back up the hallway. She watched him disappear into the other students. He was getting so big, so grown up. She hated it.
Jess turned and got in the flow of students, hustled herself out to the parking and into her minivan. She threw her bag into the backseat and headed out into the throng of cars and buses. She needed cocoa and brown sugar to make her chocolate party cake for Pete’s brother’s memorial tonight. Pete and Patty held the memorial to honour their brother. Not on the day of his death but on his birthday, celebrating all the happy parties they had when they were kids. Pete and Jess and the boys would go to Patty and Russ’s tonight and Jess would bring the dessert. It was always a good get-together, not usually sad, it was just a way to make sure they never forgot Michael.