“I’m sorry I made you shave,” he said, throwing her pants to the side.
“You shaved it,” she said.
“Well, whatever,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s very nice.”
After he undressed, she reached for him, cradling his balls in the palm of her hand, fondling them the way she knew he liked. His erection was big and hard, and the more she touched him the more he responded. “Let’s get into the shower before I throw you on the floor right now,” he said in a husky voice.
They stepped in and the warm water felt so good, she put her head under it and let it saturate her hair.
“You’re so beautiful,” Larry said, watching her.
They took turns washing each other’s bodies, concentrating on making the other feel wonderful and it worked. Brenda didn’t always have an orgasm during intercourse, but that night she did because he had her ready, ready for him.
Seven o’clock the next morning came too early. “Oh, why did I drink that last glass of wine?”
“Stay home,” Larry moaned, reaching out for her. “Call out sick.”
“I can’t. Remember? I have court with Terry today.”
He put the pillow over his head. If she wasn’t staying home, there was no reason to have his sleep disturbed.
The day went by quickly for both of them; court was fine, just like Terry said it would, giving Brenda a more involved role in the proceedings.
Larry got up at eight and promptly left to run errands; grocery shopping, picking up dry cleaning for Brenda, and having coffee with a retired neighbor also in the midst of a brownstone renovation.
By five thirty, Brenda reached the house, and was inside, calling for Larry. She went into the kitchen and looked out into the backyard to see if he was cutting tiles and her heart almost stopped. The sensation was a cliché, but it was so real, she gasped for breath. Standing in the yard, talking to Larry was Bill Lassen, one of her clients from Saint Joseph’s.
Thinking fast, if he outed her to Larry, she’d deny it to the death. Even if he brought ten more men around who could testify on his behalf, she’d stick to her story. She couldn’t imagine how he found her. She’d pretended to lose her phone so she could get a new number, and no one but her family knew her address. The conversation appeared congenial; Larry was laughing and listening and Bill was gesturing with his hands like she remembered him doing in their brief encounters.
The minutes ticked by and she had to do something; go out there or text Larry and tell him to come inside, anything.
Finally, she went out the back door. The sound alerted the men and they looked up.
“Hey Brenda, surprise!” Bill said, running over to hug her. “I tried calling you but I figured you got the number changed when some guy named Pierre answered the phone.”
“I lost my phone,” she said. “How’d you find me?”
“Your mom! I remembered where you lived, but she couldn’t remember your new phone number so she gave me your address instead.”
“Thanks Mom,” she mumbled.
“I was hoping you could get away this evening for drinks and dinner,” Bill said.
“What?” she asked, looking over at Larry, who smirked, rubbing his chin and looking at her from the corner of his eye.
“Come out with me tonight,” he said. “I’ve really missed you. We were so good together. I’ve already asked your dad and he said it was up to you.”
“My dad? Bill, this is my husband, Dr. Larry Babula.”
“Your husband? No way,” Bill said, flushing. “Your mom said your father was here doing some tile work.”
“He’d just left before Bill got here,” Larry said.
“Bill, you know my dad. Professor Lipinski? You had him for the freshman math requirement.”
Looking from Larry to Brenda and back again, the man was clearly appalled and embarrassed.
“Sir, I’m so sorry,” Bill said.
“I’m only fifteen years older than you are, so cut with the sir shit,” Larry said.
“Well, Brenda, I’m sorry to you then. That was awful of me. Goodbye,” he said, quickly leaving the yard, calling, “I’m sorry again,” over his shoulder.
“I’m going to kill my mother,” she said after he’d left.
“It’s no big deal,” Larry said. “The whole time he was talking, I was thinking of the weekly striptease I get on my day off.”
“Aren’t you spent from last night? That was some hot sex,” she said, feeling her way, aware of a wall slowly going up between them. “I actually had trouble walking today.”
“Ha! You didn’t,” he said.
“No, not really, but my muscles are sore. So was my dad really here?”
“He was. I’ll show you the powder room. He did the small pieces around the light fixture. I couldn’t cut them without splintering them, so he brought a pair of nippers over and sized them all by hand. The man is an artisan.”
Leading her into the finished powder room, Larry was so proud, seeming to take in the accolades from his wife.
“You deserve a good show after all your work,” she said, beckoning him to follow her up the stairs.
“Before we go up, I need to ask you a question,” Larry said, resisting her.
“Oh? Go ahead,” she replied, her heart beating a staccato rhythm.
“This Bill guy. He seemed pretty familiar with you even thinking I was your father. It felt a little bold.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Brenda answered. “To go to my mom’s like that and then come to my house? We never kept in touch while I was in law school.”
“Did you date him?” Larry asked.
It was the first time her past had ever been brought up. Aside from never being married, neither one had questioned each other. It just didn’t seem relevant. Brenda wondered what had changed. Now was the critical moment. If she lied to him, well, she was lying. But if she told the truth, he might still construe it as her being untrustworthy. How truthful did she need to be?
“We did date in college. Nothing serious at all. He was not even someone I would categorize as a close friend. He might have hinted around that he was interested in more, but certainly not enough to hunt me down four years after graduation. I hope he’s not going to make a nuisance of himself.”
“He didn’t seem like he was going to be a problem,” Larry said.
“I’m surprised you’re interested,” Brenda admitted.
“Only because the guy showed up on our doorstep,” he said. “I wondered if you’d seen him since we got married.”
“Never,” she said, throwing herself in his arms. “I’ll never betray you, Larry. I’m so lucky to have a guy like you. I would never jeopardize it, ever.
“Besides, I don’t want to go to hell.”
“Ha! I have Catholicism to thank for a loyal wife,” Larry said, contritely.
“Well, more than that, but a little concern for my soul is helpful. Besides, who could ever love me like you do? I know what I’ve got.”
“Show me what you’ve got,” he said when they reached the bedroom. He pushed her to the center of the room and lay on the bed to watch Brenda undress.
Her striptease never varied; he told her what to do and she did it. Tonight, he didn’t waste any time when she was done. “Leave your stockings and garter belt on,” he said. “I want to fuck you wearing them.”
She walked to the bed and lay down, sliding under him. He pried her legs apart with his knee and got between her legs. “Wrap your legs around my back,” he said.
He grabbed his penis and ran it up and down her to get it wet and then without the usual gentle care, he pushed up against her, not rough exactly, but different. With his eyes closed, he began to move, banging from side to side, almost like he was purposely avoiding her clitoris. She held on to his shoulders while he was moving, wondering where this behavior was coming from, but certain it had something to do with the unexpected visit that afternoon.
He came quickly,
pressing his lips together, not a sound made, and then fell over on the bed next to her. She waited, hurt, feeling his disconnect immediately.
When his breathing slowed down, he got up off the bed and went into the bathroom, no inquiries about her level of satisfaction. She looked for her underpants and slipped them on when he came back in. Standing in front of him, naked except for her panties and garter belt, he looked at her, then rubbed his chin in the way he had before he was about to say something critical.
“I’ve been thinking about our chat regarding augmentation surgery,” he said, looking at her breasts with a look on his face. “Did you give it any more thought?”
“Ah, no, Larry, I did not.” Hurt feelings segued to anger.
“Well, I’m asking you to think about it,” he said with an edge.
“Why?” she asked, knowing, but forcing him to acknowledge his selfishness.
“Because I’d like you to have bigger breasts,” he admitted. “I’m trying to be honest with you.”
Reaching for the shirt she’d worn to work that day, she slipped her arms in and plunked down on the side of the bed. This was terrain she was not familiar traversing with Larry, a mean, vindictive element she’d never seen before. Wisdom told her to let him have the last word, not to argue, or get defensive, or whine.
“Thank you for being honest,” she said.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked, a challenging note to his voice.
“Think? I’ll think about what you’re asking me to do,” she said, dying to respond, I think you should consider getting a penile lengthening procedure while you’re at it, but she didn’t really feel that way. It would simply be a childish response to his cruelty and she imagined if she ever made a comment about the length of his penis, which was more than adequate, it would have lifelong consequences.
“How long are you going to think about it?” he asked.
“Is there a deadline?” she asked.
“I talked to a plastic surgeon at work and he can see you this week,” he answered.
“You talked to one of your colleagues about the size of my breasts? No way,” she said, appalled. “You’re joking.”
“I’m dead serious,” he said. “He’ll fill a vacancy he has and it will save us about half the price.”
“Larry, I’m not going to your buddy to have my tits made larger. Forget it.”
She picked her clothes up off the floor and walked to the closet to hang them up, her jaw set, keeping her face as neutral as possible. Dreading it, she could feel him following behind her. He wasn’t finished yet.
“Brenda -”
“Forget it, Larry. No. I allow you to shave my asshole because you don’t like hair back there. I wear the clothes you like, fix my hair to please you, don’t show my teeth when I smile. I’m not getting a breast augmentation because your buddy has a vacancy. No.”
Trying for the bathroom next, surely he wouldn’t follow her in there, but he put his hand up to block her from shutting the door.
“There’s something you need to level with me about,” he said. “Bill wasn’t the first guy to come around. I ran into someone else, a tall, goofy guy who was on his way to see you at your apartment when we still lived in University City.”
“Oh, I see. You decided to let your concern build up so you could spring it on me all at once,” she said.
“It didn’t make any sense until now,” he said. “I wish I could remember every word the guy said, but it didn’t take much imagination what he was there for.”
“What was he there for?” she asked, her teeth chattering in fear.
“He assumed I was there for the same thing. ‘You here to see Brenda?’ he asked. ‘Yep,’ I said. ‘She still hooking up then? I haven’t seen her since undergrad but I heard she was here.’”
Pushing him away with her hand, Brenda squeezed past him and returned to the bedroom. “Sit down Larry,” she said, pointing to the bed, and he complied. “I’ll tell you everything. But first, I want you to know that since I graduated, I haven’t had a date with anyone but you. You can believe that or not.
“When I was in college, I turned tricks,” she said defiantly. “It wasn’t with hundreds of students, but it was with enough that I was able to save up most of the money I needed for law school.”
“You went to Penn Law… that’s over a hundred thousand for three years.”
“Not quite, Larry. I had a substantial scholarship. Anyway, if you want to punish me for what I did before we even knew each other, go for it. But I’m telling you right now, I’ll leave you if it’s an issue. I don’t need the one person on earth who is supposed to love me unconditionally to judge me.”
“I’m not judging you,” he said. “It’s a matter of character. Did you really think I’d never find out?”
“Well, yes, I guess I hoped that. It’s not something I’m proud of. I didn’t do it because I wanted to have sex constantly with men who didn’t love me. I needed the money and it was the easiest way to make it. Remember, I also waited tables.”
“I need to get out for a while,” he said, getting up from the bed and moving toward the staircase. “Do you need to tell me anything else?”
“Not that I can think of,” she said. “Isn’t that enough?”
He left without replying, leaving a huge void in the room. She looked around, at the carpet samples in the corner and the fabric samples pinned to the wall next to the window. Everything they had done suddenly seemed like a huge waste of their time. Why fix up a house for two people who hardly knew each other?
Running down the steps after Larry, she caught him before he was out the door. “I’m not the same woman,” she called out. “That young girl was trying to escape her situation, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything to her, and it doesn’t mean anything to me now. We’re just getting to know each other, Larry. Give me another chance, please?”
“Can I take it under consideration?” he asked.
“Of course,” she said. “I just didn’t want you to leave here thinking I don’t love you or that I don’t care what you think of me. I’m completely ashamed.”
“I don’t want you to feel shame,” he said, shutting the door. “I just need to sort out my feelings about it. My imagination has taken flight.”
“Do you want to regale me with tales of your youth?” she said. “I’m sure you weren’t a virgin when we met.”
He snickered. “No, that’s true,” he said. “And I have to admit, I have paid women for sex.”
That news made her a little ill, and she wondered how him paying for it was much different. “You don’t have to tell me your history,” she said. “I don’t really care, I swear to you.”
But there was a little gleam in his eye, like he might want to tell her a thing or two to even up the score, and as far as she was concerned, it wasn’t going to happen, even if she had to lock herself in the bathroom. Then, to clear up any doubts, he said it.
“I’d like to tell you about the women I’ve been with,” he said. “I was with a famous model.”
He mentioned the name of a well-known Polish underwear model. Larry went on to describe her body in detail to Brenda, what it was like to have her long legs around his waist, how her breasts would bounce when she fucked him. He even said her pussy smelled like lemons.
Letting him talk, trying to shut him out but failing, her sense of well-being rapidly diminished as he unloaded on her, trying to make her jealous, and for a moment, she wondered if she even loved him. It seemed impossible that this was the same man who had cried at the altar on their wedding day.
“I’m so happy for you,” she said, sarcastically. “I’m sorry I stopped you from leaving.”
He turned and slammed out of the house. It was definitely a losing situation, and the sooner she just let it go and let him do what he had to do, the better it would be. She didn’t realize that heartbreak might be part of the marriage cycle for her. It wasn’t going to be all blissful or even working side
by side. Occasionally, there might be a wall between them. It was just life.
Looking out the window, she saw him going into the corner pub. It was a place they’d gone to together in the past, but a little too greasy for Brenda’s taste. She hoped there wouldn’t be any Polish speaking babes in there tonight.
Trudging back up the stairs, she decided to get into her PJs and call Terry. Terry always had a word of wisdom for Brenda.
Chapter 9
Sitting at the greasy bar at Polktown Pub, Larry Babula looked into his glass of ale hoping for answers to life. He had everything going for him, but nothing could have prepared him for the rigors of marriage. Devastating confessions aside, living with Brenda had been fairly easy up to a point. Disappointingly, domesticity was not Brenda’s forte, a comfort he’d hoped marriage would provide. The first time they had argued about it, he was shocked at her response. She hadn’t done something he’d expected her to do and she’d looked at him in amazement when he confronted her.
“Hey, I’m not your mother. You want your clothes folded and put away; you’d better do it yourself or hire someone, Larry.”
“You wash the clothes,” he said. “I thought the natural next step is to fold them and put them away.”
“I wash the clothes as a courtesy to you because I have to wash my own clothes. But beyond that, you’re on your own. I work full time, as you know and taking over every chore in this house is not my intention. You want someone to take care of you, you’d better…” and here they chimed in together – “hire someone.”
“Rough night?”
Larry looked up into the most earnest eyes he’d ever seen. “You could say that. I had a fight with my wife.”
“I’m not married myself,” the bartender said. “But what I hear from patrons is that marriage is constant work. If you look away for too long, something is bound to pop up that needs fixing.”
“How much of a person’s past is important in a relationship?” he asked, staring off. “I mean, what if someone isn’t who you thought they were?”
“Like a transsexual?” she asked, and he burst out laughing.
“No, nothing like that,” he replied.
Bittersweets - Brenda and Larry: Steamy Romance Page 11