“Yeah, girl, would you believe she did that?” Tina asked, speaking into the telephone headset that she wore so often it might have been a piece of garish jewelry. Undoubtedly, she was talking to one of her girlfriends. “And then she had the nerve to come back and tell me ...”
Eric tuned her out, a survival tactic he’d learned in his first few months of marriage. He grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping and watching his wife.
Tina, in her own world, didn’t notice him standing there—or didn’t care. Her hands were a frenzy of activity as she whipped up yet another chocolate cake. She wore baggy Levi’s, a drab blue T-shirt, and worn-out house shoes. Her brittle hair was wrapped in a scarf, and a smudge of cake frosting marred her chin.
This woman had changed so much since he had married her. When they had been dating, she had loved outdoor activities, aerobics, and healthful eating. She’d been a size five, and got her nails and hair done almost weekly. She’d been a stylish dresser who favored bold colors and formfitting outfits. And she loved to have sex.
But the woman who shuffled around the kitchen in front of him might have been Tina’s ugly duckling, ice-maiden sister.
In three years of marriage, she’d ballooned up to a size eighteen. She visited her hair stylist only a couple of times a year, and hadn’t gotten her nails done in months. She preferred to dress in baggy, grungy clothes, like a tomboy. During weekends, when she didn’t have to work, she avoided going outdoors unless it was to go to the mall, a grocery store, or church, as if she was agoraphobic. She binged on junk food and sweets. And she had lost all desire for sex.
His marriage had suddenly become the prison that he’d always feared it would be. He was chained to a wife who bore little resemblance to the woman he’d fallen in love with.
If only I’d waited, he thought sometimes. If only I’d held out a little longer, for the woman that I knew, beyond all doubt, was Ms. Right.
If only he’d waited, he might’ve met the woman next door.
Tina finished her call. Eric spoke up before she dialed the next friend on her call list.
“We have new neighbors,” he said. “I just saw them moving in this morning.”
“Do we?” she asked absently. She didn’t bother to look at him, intent on her baking. “We’ll have to go meet them sometime.”
He knew that she had no interest in meeting the neighbors. It would take her outside of her house, away from her friends and baking.
“It’s a nice day,” he said. “I think I’m going to go walking this evening. Want to join me?”
Her face puckered sourly. “You know I hate walking outside, Eric. The pavement’s bad on my knees.”
“But it’s good exercise.”
“I’d rather use the treadmill.”
He almost laughed. The treadmill that she referred to sat in their bedroom, serving more as Tina’s makeshift clothes hanger than as an exercise machine. She hadn’t used the thing since he’d bought it for her birthday two years ago.
“I wish you’d get off this physical fitness kick,” she added. “I married you because I wanted a husband, not a personal trainer.”
“But—”
“In sickness, and in health,” she went on. “You married me for my spirit, not my body.”
“Right,” he said.
“You act like I’m a slob. I’ve put on a few pounds, I admit, but I still look good, to me. I’m happy with myself, so you should be happy, too.”
“That’s cool, but, Tina ...”
The phone chirped. Tina pressed the button to answer it, with the practiced swiftness of a switchboard operator. She squealed with delight when she heard who was on the phone. One of her girlfriends who lived out of town.
Although Eric wanted to continue their conversation, he knew it was pointless. Tina had tuned him out, caught up in the drama of her friend’s life.
He trudged out of the kitchen and returned to the front yard.
Maybe I should learn to be content with my marriage, he thought. After all, it could’ve been worse. Tina kept a clean house, and cooked for them virtually every day. She was employed full time and made good money as a paralegal. She was a devout, churchgoing woman who believed in honesty, decency, and loyalty. She was a good woman, and would likely make a wonderful mother to their children. He was fortunate to have her.
But he just wasn’t attracted to her anymore. The thought was painful and oddly liberating at the same time.
He looked longingly at the house next door, hoping to see the woman. She didn’t reappear. The house was quiet. He would’ve expected to see a moving truck, but evidently, they would be bringing in their belongings later. Maybe he would see her again then. And then, perhaps he would meet her.
As it turned out, a week passed before he finally met the woman.
The morning of the following Saturday, Eric was outdoors, mowing grass, when the garage door of the house next door lumbered upward. The Ford Expedition rumbled out.
The passenger seat was empty, but the husband was driving.
Eric’s heart leapt. Could the woman be in the house, alone?
The SUV rolled out of the driveway, down the street, and out of sight.
He quit pushing the lawn mower. The blades thumped into silence.
Since last weekend, the woman had dominated Eric’s thoughts. In his mind, she had become—impossibly—even more beautiful and desirable. He longed to see her again, and had watched the house every day, waiting for a treasured glimpse of her, an opportunity to make her acquaintance.
Now, with her husband gone, he had his chance.
Chance to do what? he asked himself, as he walked briskly toward the house. Remember, Eric, nothing can happen. Both of us are married. I’ll get a friendly conversation out of this, that’s all.
Tina was in the house, talking on the phone. She would never notice that he was gone. But he felt like a kid sneaking away to steal a cookie.
His heart hammered.
He rang the doorbell. Within just a few seconds, the door swung open—as if she had been waiting for him.
When he saw what the woman was wearing, his mouth slipped open.
She wore an orange tank top that revealed deep, lush cleavage, high-cut denim shorts (Daisy Dukes, Eric thought vaguely), and that was all. She looked like a chocolate goddess.
He pulled his gaze away from her body, and spoke.
“Hi, my name’s Eric. I live next door. I wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to the neighborhood.”
“Pleased to meet you, Eric. I’m Diana.” She had a mellow, throaty voice—just the kind he liked. Smiling broadly, she offered her hand.
Was it just his imagination, or did a current of delicious energy pass through him when he grasped her warm, soft hand?
He didn’t know. He felt slightly dizzy. She was even more beautiful up close than he had hoped. He could sink in her eyes, and her glossy red lipstick looked so good on her luscious lips that he wanted to draw them in his mouth and nibble on them, like plump fruit.
“Diana, huh? That’s a nice name.” Although he had waited days for this opportunity, he couldn’t think of anything witty and charming to say. “Like Diana Ross.”
“Or the goddess Diana,” she said.
“Well, you could be a goddess,” he said. The words tumbled out before he realized what he’d said, and he wanted to kick himself. This was supposed to be an innocent, friendly chat, not a pickup attempt. What was wrong with him?
But he didn’t apologize, and Diana didn’t frown disapprovingly.
“I’ve noticed that you spend a lot of time outdoors working on your lawn,” she said. Her voice lowered. “Do you put as much energy into everything you do?”
“If I love doing it, yes.” Damn, this woman is flirting with me!
She chuckled softly, and glanced at his wedding ring. “I’m sure your wife appreciates that.”
“She used to,” he said.
He was edging into dangerous, uncharted territory. But he couldn’t stop.
“Aww, shame on her.” Diana shook her head. “Strong black men are hard to find.”
“That’s what they say. But it looks like you found one. Your husband.”
“We’ve been married for only a few weeks,” Diana said. “He works long hours, leaving little old me here, all alone.”
“That’s not very wise of him—especially with another strong black man so close by.”
He could not believe the things he was saying. He didn’t even sound like himself. Where was this stuff coming from?
But God, it felt so good to flirt with a beautiful woman who seemed just as interested in him.
Diana leaned closer, across the threshold. The sweet, spicy scent of her perfume enveloped him, like a mist.
He leaned closer to her. Their faces were only a few inches apart.
“I’d invite you in for a drink, but my husband will be back soon,” she said. “Besides, your wife might get jealous.”
“Maybe that’s what she needs,” he said.
She raised one long, elegant finger, pressed it against her lips, and then pushed it gently against his bottom lip, smearing blood-red lipstick across his skin.
“In time, Eric,” she said in a whisper. “We’re neighbors, lucky for us. You’ll see me again, very soon.”
As he was about to reply that he could hardly wait, he heard a vehicle roll into the driveway behind him.
Her husband had returned.
Frantically—but discreetly—trying to wipe the lipstick off his bottom lip, Eric backed away from the door. Smiling secretively, Diana mouthed the words, “’Bye, Eric,” and vanished into the house.
Eric didn’t want to meet her husband, worried that guilt would be evident on his face, but it was the only sensible thing to do, seeing as he was standing on the guy’s property. Eric approached the man when he got out of the vehicle.
“Hi, my name’s Eric. I live next door. I was just introducing myself to your wife.”
The guy grunted. “I saw that.” Hefting a paper grocery bag in one hand, he shuffled toward the house.
Eric stuck out his hand to be shook. Mumbling, “Name’s Ted,” and not meeting Eric’s eyes, the man quickly shook Eric’s hand. He had a weak grip.
In fact, Eric noted, the man looked fragile in general. Although he was about six-two, a couple of inches taller than Eric, he was very thin, no more than one hundred fifty pounds, and he didn’t look healthy. His brown skin was sallow, his face drawn and sunken. His eyes were tinged with red. He had a long, unkempt Afro that was speckled with dandruff, and he badly needed to shave.
What did Diana see in this man? He didn’t seem to be her type at all.
“Take care, be safe around here,” Ted muttered, and brushed past Eric on his way to the front door. He walked with a slow, dragging gait, as if each footstep drained him. Eric had walked like that once himself—it had been when he was in the hospital, walking for the first time after having an appendectomy.
Ted was obviously ill. He didn’t need to be out running errands, or working. He needed to be in the bed, being nursed back to health.
And what did he mean by that comment, “... be safe around here”? It wasn’t as though they lived in a war zone. They resided in a comfortable, middle-class community.
Ted went in the house. Frowning, Eric walked back to his yard and restarted the lawn mower.
And promptly forgot about Ted and began daydreaming about Diana. She liked him; he liked her. What was going to happen next?
He shook his head, as if awakening from a dream.
“Nothing is going to happen next,” he sternly told himself. “You’re married, Eric. Remember? Forget about her, man.”
But she was all he thought about for the rest of the day.
The next morning, at church, the pastor preached on a popular topic: resisting the sinful temptations of the flesh.
Eric sank lower in the pew, as if to avoid the minister’s alert gaze—or anyone else in the congregation who might look at him and detect the immoral desires that burned in his heart. Although their church had over two thousand members, Eric was half-convinced that the preacher’s sermon was intended solely for him.
He practically ran out of the church after service.
At home, he changed out of his suit and went into the study upstairs, to surf the Web. Tina, predictably, pursued her favorite postchurch activity: napping.
He was sitting at his computer, playing an online game, when he happened to glance out of the window beside his desk. What he saw made his mouth go dry.
The window provided a view of the house next door, and that house also had a second-floor window. Diana stood revealed in the glass, arms raised, evidently hanging blinds.
She was completely topless.
Even from a distance, the perfection of her body was obvious. Her breasts were round, full, and firm, the dark nipples like chocolate-covered cherries.
A huge, pulsating erection fought against Eric’s shorts.
Close the blinds, Eric, he ordered himself. You don’t need to be watching this. What if Tina sees you?
But he didn’t move.
In fact, he wondered where he had placed his binoculars. They were somewhere in the house, maybe in the garage. He was afraid to go look for them. He didn’t want to miss one second of this voyeuristic treat.
You’re going to burn in hell for this.
So what? It would be worth it, she’s so beautiful ...
Suddenly, Diana spotted him watching her. He froze like a possum caught in car headlights.
She waved at him cheerfully. Then she dropped down the newly hung blinds, covering the window.
He blew out a chestful of air.
She knew I was watching her all along. She’s teasing me. And it’s working.
He wondered if she walked around the house in the nude. The thought was almost painfully arousing.
Forehead filmed with sweat, he closed the blinds on his window, too. But that didn’t solve his most urgent problem: a throbbing hard-on that wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.
He went to the bedroom. His wife slumbered on her side. She wore a baggy T-shirt and sagging sweatpants, and her hair stuck up in wild strands.
She was hardly an attractive sight, he hated to admit, but he ached for release, and she was his wife. He stretched out beside her and pressed his stiff dick against her wide butt, rubbed insistently.
“Uh-uh, honey,” she mumbled groggily. She reached back and swatted him as if he was an annoying fly. “I’m sleeping ...”
“Come on, baby.” He reached to caress one of her breasts.
“Later,” she muttered, and flopped over onto her stomach, taking her hips and breasts away from him.
Eric wanted to scream. He lay there staring at the ceiling fan, images of Diana’s breasts lodged in his head. His eager dick ached.
Outside of sexual activity, there was only one sure way to beat down lust—exercise. He laced his Nike running shoes, then set about running on the road that weaved through their subdivision.
When he was a few blocks away from the house, jogging along the side of the road, a vehicle roared behind him. Alarmed, he looked over his shoulder. A Ford Expedition thundered his way.
Shouting curses, he leapt onto the grass, out of the SUV’s path. He stumbled over his feet and fell.
The Ford rocked to a stop. Ted, his neighbor, climbed out.
Eric got up, brushing grass off his skinned knees. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? You were gonna hit me!”
Coming around the front of the truck, Ted looked sicker than ever. Dark circles ringed his eyes. He’d lost more weight. His hair and beard grew wildly, as if he was a mountain man.
Ted pointed at Eric with a shaky finger.
“Do I have your attention now, brother?” He’d obviously meant to shout, but his voice came out soft. “Stay away from her! You don’t know w
hat you’re getting into.”
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ted rushed forward with unexpected quickness, snagged Eric by his shirt, and shook him.
“I’m talking about her!” he shouted hoarsely, spittle spraying Eric’s face. “I’m warning you, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep away from her.”
“Get off me, man.” Eric pushed the guy away from him.
Ted staggered, and he once again appeared frail and sickly.
“I tried,” Ted mumbled, shaking his head sadly. “Guy’s thinking with the wrong head.”
“Are you sick or something?” Eric asked.
Ted raised his head, and there was no mistaking the emotion in his watery eyes: fear.
What was this guy so afraid of?
“Just stay away from her,” Ted said, in a lifeless tone. Hitching his jeans over his sunken hips, he shuffled around the truck, got in, and drove away.
“He’s a nutcase,” Eric decided. “And a jealous one at that.”
Diana had probably said something about him to Ted—something innocent—and Ted, being a jealous husband, had gotten pissed off. The crazy dude had come out here trying to throw a scare into him. Ted’s look of fear likely stemmed from his worry that Eric would steal his wife.
Couldn’t say I blame him for that, Eric thought. If she was mine, I’d be paranoid that some guy would take her from me, too.
Still, he wondered if he was right. Something about Ted’s voice bothered him. There didn’t seem to be a personal threat in Ted’s words. Ted’s warning, in fact, seemed to be genuinely goodwilled, as if he saw Eric unknowingly walking into a lion’s den and wanted to save him.
But that would mean that Diana herself was dangerous. And that, of course, was ridiculous. She wasn’t a monster. She was a beautiful woman—who happened to be attracted to him.
Thinking about seeing her in the window made him start running again.
That night, Eric and his wife went to bed without making love. Eric did a mental tabulation: this marked the thirtieth day that he’d gone without sex.
A whole month without sex, and he was married, for God’s sake. That was ridiculous.
Twisted Tales Page 16