by Kim Corum
I turned back around. They could be us on the dancefloor. I glanced over my shoulder at them. They seemed so in love, like we used to seem. I don’t know how long I watched them but once the woman looked up and caught me staring. I looked down at my shoes quickly, then back up at her. She smiled slightly. Sandy would have done something like that.
I didn’t notice when a tall, thin blonde sat down beside me. I don’t know how long she sat there.
That could be me kissing Sandy. A soft kiss, then we’d go back home and we’d have sex. No. On my birthday we made love. It was always slow. Nice. Warm. She giggled a lot.
“Wanna buy me a drink?” the blonde whispered in my ear.
I turned to her. She smiled. She was very attractive, hot. I didn’t smile back. I turned and the couple was now sitting in their booth.
Sandy didn’t belong to me anymore.
I turned back to the woman and said, “Sure. What would you like?”
* * * * *
The blonde woman lay beside me. She was almost asleep.
I got up and went to the window, pulled the curtain open and looked out at downtown Atlanta. She was from out of town. She was here on business. Would I like to come up for a drink? The hotel was just a block away.
What the hell have I done?
I was just so lonely. It was a mistake. But I had been consumed with heartache and she was just there, like they sometimes are. Sandy and I once had a fight while I was away at a conference. Such a big fight I was sure that the next time we saw each other would be in divorce court.
I didn’t even remember what it was about now.
I’d gone down to the hotel bar and the woman had been sitting there talking with some balding man. When I entered, she pounced on me. I was so pissed off at Sandy, I didn’t hesitate. I had to get back at her and the woman fit the bill. I took her up to my room and fucked her brains out. As soon as she was out the door, Sandy called crying, “I’m so sorry. Please come home to me! I need you! Please!”
And I was on the next plane home with a little blue box containing a diamond bracelet. I was such a bastard. Of course, I never told Sandy. I wasn’t an idiot.
The woman stirred as I dressed. I wouldn’t wake her. I knew what these fucks were all about. She knew, too. She would wake and I’d be gone. I’d be a nice memory and maybe she’d look for me next time she was in town, but she’d be glad I had let myself out without disturbing her.
Yeah. There were several of these women in my past. Most of them I had sex with because I had been pissed off at Sandy for some reason or another. I did it because she had so much control over me that I had to act out or I’d go crazy. I would have been a fool to tell her; it would only hurt her. And the women, really, didn’t mean anything. Just like I didn’t mean anything to them. It was almost as if I wasn’t cheating. I was passing time until I could be with her again. And I would ache for her. Did she ache for me?
I doubted it.
I went home, really wanting a shower, so I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I started to undress but then I just froze as an image of her so strong came at me. She was staring at me and shaking her head, like she’d do sometimes when I did something to piss her off. I couldn’t do anything but sit on the side of the tub and put my head in my hands. I willed the image away but it came back stronger. It planted itself in my head and would not let go. She would be so mad at me if she found out what I just did. She would stomp her foot and she….
If she found out… How was she going to find out? She wasn’t here. She wasn’t coming back. I had to move on. I had to do something with myself. But I just didn’t know what. It was as if a gigantic part of me was gone and there was nothing around to fill it. She was the only one who would make me whole again. And she wasn’t going to.
I started to cry but I stopped myself. It was really going to be over soon. I couldn’t make this one up with some little gift and a promise to myself to never do it again.
Did she ever cheat on me?
The question arose in my mind and I wanted to cry again. But I didn’t. I just sat there and stared at the door. I could just see her rushing in and taking me into her arms, holding me.
She’d said, “What is it, baby? What is it?”
I’d look at her and she’d make everything right. So right. Like she always did. Whenever I got home, I’d take one look at her smiling face and the other women would disappear out of my mind. They’d be gone and I’d never think of them again. I hoped to God they never thought of me.
“Shh,” she’d say and put my head on her shoulder. “Shh…”
I deserved it. I deserved for her to leave me. Sure, she could have done this or she could have done that, but I fucking deserved it. I was a bad man. I got away with all those one-night stands. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe she found out and that’s why she left. Then she’d have had a reason.
But I knew she didn’t know. I was very conscientious. I didn’t leave clues. I wouldn’t have hurt her for the world. And it was killing me now that she was hurting me, from wherever she was, she was still hurting me as if she’d just left yesterday.
Peter
“I’m back!
I started this insane workout regime a few years ago. Since I’d been married, I’d gained about twenty pounds. Bruce pretended not to notice but he was suspicious when I wanted to turn out the lights when we had sex.”
I did notice. But I would have been a dead man if I had said anything, so I kept my mouth shut. And once the weight came off and she started to develop her muscles—oh my God, she looked even better than she did before and that’s saying something.
“So I decided to get in shape.
My friend, Elise, agreed to go with me because she’d gained some weight with her last baby. We just picked a gym, went in and signed up for a strength training class. To be honest, I hadn’t planned on doing it. I just wanted to check it out and then do it at home. I hated gyms.
I changed my mind when I saw my instructor, Peter. My God. This man was built! Muscles upon muscles, tall, sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He looked like a model.
He always went around saying stuff like, ‘One more push-up! You can do it! One more!’
I would silently tell him to fuck off and give him one more.
‘See?’ he’d say. ‘I knew you could do it.’
I knew I could do him.”
Okay. Now I was worried.
“I didn’t say a word to him for the first month. I was like, ‘Why the hell didn’t I lose some weight before I signed up for this?’ Needless to say, the weight came off very fast and within about three months, I was out of my sweats and into those short workout shorts and sports bra tops.
Anyway. Peter knew I was in the room, to say the least. I could tell he had the hots for me and I think he knew I had the hots for him. But I just didn’t want to go there, even though it was tempting, to say the least. So, if I ever cheated, it would be with someone like him. And the thing is, I’m sure Bruce has cheated on me. Sometimes when he’s away at ‘conferences,’ I’ll call the hotel late at night and he’ll be ‘out.’ Yeah, it pissed me off, but how the hell can I prove anything? I can tell when he does something (or someone) because I always get some new jewelry and he never scrimps.”
I knew it! I knew she knew! I just knew it!
“But then again, he might not have ever cheated.”
I didn’t know shit.
“And if he has, I don’t want to know. It would kill me. I’m a jealous person. I couldn’t handle it. I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t. So I pretend not to know anything. I will continue to do so until he comes clean. If and when he comes clean and I hope to God he never does.”
Phew.
“Back to Peter. Peter did not have one ounce of pretension. He was so normal. All the chicks at the gym were after him, but he’d laugh it off and say he was just there to do his job. Elise said this really meant he hadn’t met the right woman to fuck yet. This made me laugh and,
yeah, the thought of us having wild sex would enter into my mind, but then I’d push it away. However, we had such strong sexual chemistry that it began to get harder and harder to deny.”
I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t read this.
“I really wasn’t looking for an affair. I didn’t want one. Bruce usually kept me pretty satisfied in and out of the bedroom. However, Peter and I had this little flirty relationship and I knew if I gave one push, he’d be at my feet.”
Maybe I shouldn’t read this. I knew I was a hypocrite, but I just didn’t know if I can handle it.
I went on anyway.
“One day after we’d had a really good workout, my endorphins kicked in and I jumped up and did a front kick. Peter got in the way and I accidentally kicked his knee. He doubled over in pain. I bent down in front of him and told him I was so sorry. But I couldn’t keep from laughing. When I kicked him, he had been like, ‘Ahh!’ and the look on his face had been priceless.
After a while, he started to laugh with me and I said, ‘Let me make it up to you by buying you a burger.’”
She didn’t. She just took him out to eat, that’s all. My girl wouldn’t do something like that.
“So I bought him a burger and we started talking. I asked him, ‘Do you have kids?’
‘No,’ he said and ate a French fry, then chuckled. “Well, none that I know of.’
‘Do you want kids?’ I asked.
‘Sure, I guess,’ he said. ‘Do you want kids?’
I thought about that and shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘How does your husband feel about that?’
‘I don’t know. We don’t discuss it. He’s really busy right now. He doesn’t have time for anything.’ I didn’t mention the fact that Bruce had been busy since the day we married. Or that I rarely saw him. Or that I did kinda want kids.
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s just that...’ I stopped and stared at him. He nodded and smiled. I immediately felt at ease.
‘Go on.’
I felt that I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge me. It felt good to feel that free, to be able to open up. So, I told him. I told him everything. And he listened. And he didn’t judge. And then, he gave me a look. I knew what he wanted and I knew I wanted it, too. So, I pushed everything from my mind and we just kind of left together.”
I threw the journal against the wall. I fumed and cursed under my breath. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to yell, “Fuck!” A little voice told me, “You deserve it.” I told that voice to shut the fuck up and retrieved the damn journal and opened it back up.
“We went to a hotel. A really seedy hotel. The place was not very nice at all and that was being generous. But I didn’t care. I was so nervous and excited that if he had taken me to the Four Seasons, I wouldn’t have noticed that either.
I can honestly say it wasn’t anything to do with Bruce. It was all me. I was back. I was no longer half a person waiting for him to make me whole.
It was all so fast at first. We tore each other’s clothes off and he pushed me—yes, pushed me—down on the bed. After we were naked and had pawed at each other for a couple of minutes, he slid that hard cock right into me and man, it felt so damn good. I just laid there panting while he did all the work. It took me less than a minute to come and then I came again with him. After we were finished, we did it again. Then we shared a smoke and laughed about stupid stuff all afternoon. Come to find out, he was a big Three Stooges fan, like me. We did Curly imitations and pretended to grab each other’s noses and stuff like that. We laughed so much our stomachs hurt.
It had been a very pleasant way to spend a Wednesday afternoon.”
“Motherfuckingshit! Motherfucker!” I roared and kicked the coffee table. “Urgh!”
Light a cigarette. Light a cigarette. Calm down. Calm down. I lit a cigarette and calmed down. I picked up the journal and started to read again.
“After that, the affair just developed. I would see him at the gym, he would nod at me and we’d leave a few minutes apart, meet at our fuck hotel and have sex all afternoon. It was so much fun, it was delicious, like a big piece of chocolate cake. One bite was never, ever enough. I couldn’t get enough of it. I wanted it every day. Every minute.”
I was so pissed off I was shaking.
“So, I’m having this affair. I’m thinking, should I tell Bruce? I kept asking myself over and over. I came up with scenarios and kept playing them out in my mind.
‘Hi, honey! I’m having an affair. Is that okay?’
‘Of course it’s not okay you little slut!’ he would reply.
I have to admit when he calls me a little slut, it turns me on. I am big into the dirty talk. The first time I asked him to call me that, his eyes popped out, but he complied. ‘You little slut! I’ll fuck your brains out!’ Sex is always so good when he calls me his little slut. I like being his little slut.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Anyway, getting back to the scenario, I would then ask Bruce, ‘Do you want me to stop fucking Peter? I mean, if you want me to, I will.’
‘Of course I want you to stop!’ he would yell.
I would consider. “Okay, I will, but let me have him one more time.’
Or…
‘Bruce, guess what! I’m having an affair with a man with a really large penis. It’s not bigger than yours, though.’ This was true. It wasn’t either. ‘We’re having spaghetti for supper.’
Or…
‘You’re not mad, are you? Why are you so mad? If you were having an affair, I wouldn’t be mad at you!’
‘Yes, you would,’ he’d say. ‘Besides, I’ve been fucking around on you for years.’”
She was too damn good.
“‘I knew it! Then, we’re even! No harm done. Were they good? The women that you had sex with? Not better than me, of course, right?’
He would shrug. ‘No one is better than you.’
I’d wrap it up like this, ‘The thing is, Bruce, I love you. You. This is just one of those things. Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll give it up. It’s not like I’m addicted. In a day or two I’ll tell him it’s over.’
While all these conversations are playing in my head, I wondered if I have the nerve to actually tell him about Peter. I decided I didn’t. I have balls but they’re not that big.
Bruce raced into the kitchen just then. I was so startled, I started shaking. He was, like, suddenly there. After I got back into my skin, I just lit up for him. My honey was home! I’m such a good little wife! Look at me! I’m starting supper.
‘Hi, boopie!’ I squealed.
Boopie’s what I call him when I do something bad. Like when I spend all the money in the checking account and forget to write it down. Or when I have an affair. He usually catches on. He never caught on to it that time, though.”
Wrong. I had caught on, but I just thought she’d spent all the money again. I mean, I didn’t think she was fucking some guy!
“So he grabbed me up and carried me around the kitchen. I’m like, ‘Ohhkay. What is up with you?’
‘Guess who got the Chandler building?’
‘You didn’t!’
He nodded.
I squealed in delight. He had wanted that account so badly. I was so happy for him.
‘Can you believe it?’ he asked. He was so excited, he was shaking.
‘Oh, my God! You are so successful!’ I hugged him tight and smiled up at him.
‘Of course, this means long days and weekends…’
The smile vanished off my face. ‘For how long? A couple of months?’
‘More like a couple of years.’
I was not happy.
He said, ‘But, meanwhile, we can plan that trip to Europe and when it’s over, baby, we’re there!’
‘We have already planned our trip to Europe.’
‘I know, but I can’t take a month off now. I’m sorry, baby, I just can’t.’
I glared at
him. London, Paris, Amsterdam and Rome, ciao, baby! Damn it.
‘You hate me?’ he asked.
I nodded.
‘Come on! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.’
He was right. This building was the shit. And I couldn’t really be mad at him for being so ambitious. He was just that kind of guy. Coming from his working class background, I could understand that.
I groaned, ‘I know. It’s okay, I guess. Bruce, let me ask you something.’
‘Stop cooking! Let’s go out. Oh, did you pick up my suit?’
‘Bruce, let me ask you something.’
‘What? I just can’t get over this!’ He picked me up off the floor again. ‘How do you want to celebrate?’
I shrugged. A fuck would be good.
‘What did you want to ask me?’ he asked.
He was so happy. I didn’t want to ruin it.
‘Nothing,’ I said.
He smiled at me until I smiled back. We stayed like that for a very long time.
‘Congratulations,’ I said and got an idea. I slid out of his arms and got down on my knees. I stared up at him. He grinned down at me as I unzipped his pants.
Giving him a blowjob seemed like a better idea than telling him I was cheating.”
I couldn’t really argue with that.
ARGH!
“This was the gist of our life after Bruce got the contract for that stupid building:
I would be sitting quietly somewhere, maybe watching TV or reading a magazine and he would come into the room and piss me off.
‘Have you seen my green socks?’ he asked one day.