Читать книгу The Secret Lives Of Housewives - Joan Elizabeth Lloyd - Страница 13

Eve had seen the familiar phone number on the screen of her cell phone and had hustled out of the diner. Mike. “Hi,” she said into the phone. “Hang on a minute.” Dashing across the street to the 3Cs parking lot, she unlocked her car and almost tumbled in. “Hi, baby.” The interior was boiling hot so she started the engine and turned the air conditioner on full blast.

“Well, hi yourself,” the familiar voice said. “What was that all about?”

She tried to catch her breath. “I was having coffee with a few of the women from my yoga class. You remember. I told you about that. That’s why I suggested you call on my cell.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Listen, I only have a minute. Tuesday?”

What do you think? “Of course, baby.”

“Good. While I’m at home over the weekend I like to look forward to our little get-togethers.”

Get-togethers? Why do I do this to myself? “I look forward to them, too.”

“Okay. Gotta run. See you in the office on Monday.”

“Call me again if you get—” But he’d already hung up.

Why indeed? She thought back to the previous Tuesday. The desk clerk at the small hotel they frequented knew them well and quickly supplied her with the key to their usual room. Mike’s company credit card number was already on file. She unlocked the door and set her purse and a paper bag on the dresser. The room was a little seedy but the air conditioner worked and the beds were comfortable. And, she thought with a small smile, they didn’t squeak. The furnishings were strictly utilitarian, the standard flowered bedspread with matching drapes, pale tan ersatz wooden dresser and nightstands, and industrial brown and beige carpeting.

The bathroom was plain white tile, with the usual individually wrapped soaps and little bottles of shampoo. From time to time, Mike took a quick shower, always forgetting to bring the toiletries into the stall. “Hand me the shampoo. That is, of course, unless you can’t find real poo.” Then he’d laugh at his joke for the dozenth time.

Today she’d brought delicatessen, pastrami on rye with cole slaw and Russian dressing for Mike, and roast beef on rye for herself. She pulled two diet sodas from the bag, and leaving the door slightly ajar, went to the end of the hall and filled the ice bucket.

When she returned Mike was already digging into the second half of his sandwich. “We’ve only got about half an hour,” he said, his mouth full. “I’ve got a meeting with the Madrid people at one-thirty.”

Of course, she knew about the meeting. She’d arranged it. “I know, but even just a half an hour is worth it.”

Mike crammed the entire remainder of his sandwich into his mouth. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked so cute, Eve thought, with his receding hairline and black-framed glasses. Maybe he’s not much, but he’s mine every Tuesday. Slowly she pulled her plain black sweater off over her head and watched his eyes. She knew she was a little chubby but he seemed content with her body, looking her over, his gaze heating.

“Oh, Eve, I love watching you undress.” He started to stand but she pressed down on his shoulders, keeping him seated. “Mmm.”

She slowly unzipped her skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor. Now she was wearing only a lacy black bra and panty set she’d bought the previous week just for him, thigh-high stockings, and a pair of three-inch spike heels she’d borrowed from the supply of samples they kept on hand in the stockroom. She folded her glasses and put them on the bedside table. She loved it when he looked a little fuzzy while they made love, sort of like seeing him through an oiled lens, as they did in the movies sometimes.

He reached forward and cupped his hands over her hips, slowly drawing her toward him. “You look great,” he said, making her feel like a million dollars. “Really great.”

He buried his face in her belly, inhaling deeply, obviously enjoying the scent of her body. When he unhooked her bra, her large breasts spilled out. As he filled his hands with her, kneading her flesh and pinching her nipples, she couldn’t keep the grin from her face, knowing how much he loved the feel of her breasts. She leaned down and he took one nipple in his mouth, suckling, pulling hard, driving shafts of pleasure through her body to her now-wet crotch.

As sucking sounds filled her ears, he pulled down her panties and buried his fingers deep inside her, making her knees buckle with ecstasy. He knew just how to please her, now rubbing her erect clit while placing wet kisses all over her bosom. Although the pattern of their lovemaking was always the same, her body responded to it as if it were the first time, opening to him, igniting all her senses.

As he drove his fingers into her she unbuttoned his shirt and removed his slacks, reveling at the look and feel of him. Even his scent was intoxicating. Quickly they were on the bed, Mike naked, with her wearing just her thigh-high stockings and heels. “Do it for me, baby,” he growled.

She knew exactly what he liked so she scrambled over him and licked the length of his cock, making him slippery. Then she knelt above him and cradled his erection between her breasts. She rubbed his shaft in the deep valley over and over, frequently licking drops of pre-come from the tip. She reveled in his moans of pleasure.

She knew just how much he could take before he came between her breasts, so she pulled away and grabbed a condom from where she’d put it on the bedside table. She unrolled it over him, then lay back as he climbed on top of her. When he was fully lodged inside of her, she felt his fingers between her legs, finding her clit and stroking. He was such a considerate lover, always making sure that she came before he did. Since she was so aroused, it only took a moment until spasms rocked her and had her entire body pulsing around his large cock.

“I love it that you’re always so ready for me,” he said, panting. “Makes me feel like quite a stud.”

“You are, baby,” she said, barely able to gasp out the words.

“Tell me,” he said, thrusting and withdrawing slowly.

“You’re so good, so hot, so big. I just love feeling you inside me.”

“I love your big beautiful tits and I love your hot pussy. My cock in your pussy.” His voice rose as his four-letter words had their effect on him. “I love fucking you.” Then he screamed as he came.

When he’d calmed a little, he said, “God, baby, that was fabulous. You make me so hot that it’s hard to wait.” He chuckled. “Hard to wait. I get hard, all right.” He waddled into the bathroom, grabbed a handful of tissues, and cleaned himself up.

He showered and dressed quickly, finally zipping his pants. He poured soda into two glasses, added ice, and handed one to her where she lay, still stretched out on the bed. He downed most of the contents of his glass, stared at his watch, and headed for the door. “I’ve got to run. You don’t need to be at this meeting so take your time getting back.” He blew her a kiss, opened the door slowly, looked both ways down the hall, and slipped out, gently closing the door behind him.

Eve lay on the bed, slowly decompressing from her satisfying orgasm. Oh, Mike, if only…

She remembered how it had all begun, a sudden, emergency overnight trip to a wholesaler in southern New Jersey. She realized at the time that her presence wasn’t really necessary. Sure, she took notes of problems and made a few useful suggestions but a phone call from Mike to her in the office would have done just as well.

After several hours of meetings, faxes, and e-mails to suppliers and shippers, they had gone to a local Italian restaurant for lasagna and Chianti. Over salad he’d suggested to her that it was getting too late to drive back to the city that evening. As the meal progressed, the silences had become longer and charged with sexual tension. He’d held her hand and made it obvious that he was interested in more than just business.

At thirty-one she wasn’t a virgin, nor was she naive. During dinner she read all the signs and wondered whether she could do something so totally out of character. But she was lonely. She had few friends and little family. Would this be so bad? Okay, he had a wife, but according to him they didn’t have much of a relationship left. They stayed together for his kids. He told her that he was lonely, that he hoped she understood that he’d never done anything like this before either. “Eve, I know this isn’t fair to you but I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. Can I hope that you feel the same way?”

They went to a local hotel and he got them adjoining rooms. They never used hers. Had he planned it that way? She never asked. They went directly to his and he was gentle and tender, so loving and patient with her. He’d slowly removed her clothing piece by piece, kissing each part of her overweight body, looking at her as though she were something special, precious. He’d paid particular attention to her large breasts, kissing and sucking. As some point he’d said that his wife was so small. She’d hated his reference to his wife but in the sexual haze she’d overlooked it. They’d made love and she’d enjoyed it. She hadn’t climaxed but she hadn’t minded. It had been fabulous.

The following week Mike had suggested “funch” at a small hotel near the office, and they’d been meeting almost every week since. That had been almost a year earlier. Now, sitting in the 3Cs parking lot, she wondered whether she was making the same mistake as she had sixteen years before. But she wanted him, needed him. Soon she’d be thirty-three and then what? With a deep sigh she started her car and headed back to her apartment.

As Cait pulled out of the community center parking lot she was gratified by her new friends’ reaction to Logan’s job. American Properties was a big name in the northeast and their black, white, and gold signs could be seen in front of all the best houses. It would be nice if it were Johnson Properties, but Johnson was such an ordinary name and when Marshall Johnson, Logan’s grandfather, had founded the company almost fifty years before it had been just after the war and anything labeled “American” did well.

In the fifties, the era of the baby boomers, the real estate business in Westchester soared and American Properties and Marshall became legends, breaking up many of the large estates into half-acre lots, each with a new split level home to be sold. Then Palmer, Logan’s father, took over and branched out into commercial properties. Now Logan was following in their footsteps.

Logan’s business had been keeping him away from the house more and more lately, but although she was a little suspicious, Cait had decided not to think about it too hard. She cared for Logan but slowly it was evolving into a sort of brother/sister thing. She was curious about his life away from her but as long as he left her pretty much on her own, she didn’t really care very much what he did. She had all the money she could spend, all the clothes she could wear, and her computer. As she drove through the steamy streets of East Hudson, she thought about sex. Actually, if she were to admit it, she thought about it a lot these days, and her thoughts seldom revolved around her husband.

She’d known Logan only a few months before he proposed. They’d both been in their mid-twenties and met when she applied for a job at the local real estate office. They were attracted to each other almost immediately. After only a few dates they professed their love for each other and then went to bed together several times before they began to plan the wedding.

Their lovemaking was, at best, ordinary. He’d already be erect, touch and fondle her for a few minutes, then plunge into her and climax quickly. But sex wasn’t everything, and for Cait his marriage proposal was a dream come true. Caitlin Gaffney from Omaha would live on the best street in town. Logan’s parents gave them the house they were still living in eight years later as a wedding present. Maybe it wasn’t the biggest house in the area but it was the one she knew that all the neighbors envied, with a large, heated, in-the-ground pool, a built-in sauna and spa, five bedrooms, and a sumptuous living area created by the best decorator in New York City.

Sex. It hadn’t gotten any better and in the last year it had deteriorated significantly, until now they didn’t make love at all. Even back when they had, it had inevitably been unsatisfying. She used to slip out of bed after Logan was asleep and masturbate in the bathroom.

Then, several months earlier, she’d discovered the Internet. With her new screen name, Loverlady214, she began to prowl. At first, the goings-on were merely a curiosity. Four-letter words flying everywhere, as if by saying fuck and cunt and pussy often enough it made everyone a stud. All the guys were supposedly twenty-five and muscular, all the women were twenty-five and a 34DD. Looking down at her 36B chest was depressing. However, in the anonymous world of the Internet, she didn’t have to be her real self. She could be anyone she wanted to be and Loverlady214 became twenty-five with long raven hair and a large chest.

It soon became addictive. She lurked, staying in the background, and sometimes getting turned on by a snippet of conversation. She’d gone to private rooms from time to time, but had logged off when things went too far. But “too far” had gotten farther each time.

Several months before, as she watched two people discuss what they’d do if they were together, she had slipped her fingers between her legs, and when the talk got hot enough, she’d climaxed. It had been wonderful, and anonymous. She didn’t need Logan, or anyone. It was legal, moral, and so exciting. She wasn’t cheating on Logan since there was no real contact. Cheating for her had never been a viable option, although when things had reached their dullest, she’d actually considered it. No, she admonished herself often, she wasn’t like that, but she needed something and this might just be it. The ’Net filled her bill.

One afternoon while Logan was at work, she had logged on as usual and had been invited into a private room by a guy named JaketheSSSnake. When she lied and told him she’d never actually climaxed on-line before, they’d spent a delicious fifteen minutes driving each other higher and higher. She’d climaxed so violently that she’d been unable to type for several minutes. He’d laughed and signed off. Now she spent most of her at-home time on the computer. She’d researched ways to keep her activities secret by wiping any bits of data and cookies, whatever those were, from her hard drive, and she had purchased a program that did so each time she logged off. She was sure Logan was unaware of what she was doing, and she wasn’t sure whether he’d care anyway.

Lost in thought, Cait pulled into the three-car garage and was surprised that she’d been so distracted that she had to touch the brakes. “Hi, honey,” Logan said, striding into the garage. He was tall, dark, and thick. That was the only way she’d ever described him. His body was well-developed but tended to be straight up and down, with wide hips and narrow shoulders. His dark hair was combed straight back and carefully razor-cut, his moustache and beard neatly trimmed every week by a barber. He wore tennis whites, and she had to admit, didn’t look half bad.

“Hi, hon.” He grabbed her as she climbed out of her car and gave her a bear hug, then rubbed his bristly moustache over her cheek. “How’s my girl?”

“I’m good, Logan,” she said, combing her fingers through her auburn hair. “Where are you off to?”

He released her quickly. “Tennis with Mark Petrie. How about meeting me at the club later for drinks?”

She tried not to sigh. “Sure. That sounds good.”

“Why don’t you wear that new bikini I like so much?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe we can think of something to do later.” His leer left little to the imagination. Maybe they’d actually have sex later, unless Logan drank too much and fell asleep immediately, as he usually did. Nah. Probably not. He talked a good game, especially around his friends, but when they were alone in the bedroom he wasn’t the least bit interested.

She wondered whether he really meant that he wanted to have sex, or was his sexual byplay just a sham? She’d be just as happy to pass and was sure he would as well. “I’ll see you later,” Cait said as Logan kissed her on her cheek and climbed into his Mercedes convertible, leaving the seven-passenger van they seldom used in the third spot.

“See you,” she said, waving as he pulled out. She glanced at the license plate. LOGAN1. Hers was LOGAN2 and the van was LOGAN3. She’d love a CAIT1, but why fight it? As she walked into the house, she grinned. She had plenty of time to log on.

Angie drove home wondering how, in only two encounters, she’d become so comfortable with the other three women. Sure, she hadn’t wanted to get into her relationship with Jordanna, but all in all, they were really friendly people and she hoped that their Saturday morning meetings would continue.

She thought about the three other women. While Eve seemed to be so soft and shy, Cait and Monica seemed so strong. Would they put up with Tony’s weekly visits to his ex-wife the way Angie did? It made her so unhappy yet she didn’t want to say anything. Don’t make waves. Be a good sport. That was what she’d been raised on. She hated scenes and confrontations so much that, back when she’d been the secretary to two local insurance brokers, she’d never balked at doing whatever demeaning job they’d asked her to do. She’d picked up laundry, made coffee, even baby-sat for one partner’s three rambunctious sons so he and his wife could look at a piece of property.

Jordanna.

Angie and Tony had gone to high school together, and although he hadn’t known that she existed, she’d been half in love with him. When he went off to the state university, Angie started to work, first at the local office supply store, then for Danny and Tyler Shultz and their insurance business. When Tony returned to East Hudson with his wife Jordanna, Angie was devastated. “See. What did I tell you?” her mother had said. “He’s not for you. He obviously wanted something more than a small-town girl with only a high school education. You’ve seen that college girl wife of his, putting on airs all over town. She’s class.”

Thinking of her mother made her huff out her breath. What had she known? She’d stayed with her father through all his drinking. Angie had idly kept track of the couple for the next few years, watching Jordanna parade around town like the queen of the May while Tony got a teaching job in the city, then took a second job, moonlighting at the local convenience store two nights and one weekend day each week. Angie stopped in for gas occasionally and she and Tony reminisced about old times like two good buddies.

Tony and Jordanna had been married for three years when they split, amicably it was said. One afternoon almost a year later, Tony was pulling out of a parking space at the mall and backed into the rear bumper of Angie’s car as she was backing out of the space behind. No real damage was done to either car, but, while examining the situation, they got to talking. One thing led to another and they were married just a year later.

Their relationship had been wonderful and the sex explosive. At first, much as Angie tried to discourage such talk, he lamented his lack of good sex with Jordanna. “She was such a cold fish,” he had said. “Not like you.” He kissed her deeply, hands roaming over her back, eventually finding their way beneath her top and unhooking her bra. He’d loved her body, spending long minutes stroking and kissing her skin. They’d get undressed and tenderly make long, leisurely love. It had been the best ever for her. Then she’d gotten pregnant.

They were ecstatic. A baby. They talked about names for hours and made plans to decorate one of the bedrooms in their new little over-mortgaged house as a nursery. They wandered through the mall admiring tiny clothes and being amazed at how much Pampers cost.

When they learned she was having twins, however, they were shocked, then dismayed. How would they stretch Tony’s meager salary? He’d quit his hated job at the minimart and he enjoyed his leisure time, getting more and more involved in his first love, computer games. They both vowed he’d not go back to working so many hours. She’d work more time for as long as she could and he’d get some part-time work with his brothers in their construction business. It would bring in more money for fewer hours. Jordanna had objected to the mere mention of Tony’s doing manual labor but Angie thought it was a great idea. They’d sock away as much as they could before the birth, which wasn’t much.

The stresses of her advanced pregnancy totally destroyed their sex life. She couldn’t get comfortable, and in her seventh month, when she had to give up her job, they’d also given up sex. As she thought back, she realized that it was about then that he’d started to spend time with Jordanna, who still lived in her small but luxurious condo about five miles away from the Cariri house.

At first it had been a plumbing problem. Since they’d shared the condo before their divorce, Jordanna thought Tony might be able to solve the problem without expensive repairs. The fact that the repairs should have been the condo association’s problem hadn’t occurred to Angie at the time. Two months later the air-conditioning unit began to leak and then the washer broke down.

Tony had seemed delighted by the birth of MaryLee and Brandon, and had been some help around the house while she juggled laundry, meals, cleaning, and nursing two rapidly growing babies. As the spring approached, however, it seemed that he was going over to Jordanna’s more and more often. Her mother, whom Tony adored, was ill, and Tony said they’d been visiting her in the hospital.

Were they having an affair? At first Angie would have vehemently denied it. Now she wasn’t so sure. She wanted to ask Tony to be with her more but she didn’t want to make waves. A good relationship with one’s ex was important, but God, how she hated it.

She pictured Monica or Cait in her situation. “Listen, buster, it’s time you spent come quality time with me instead of her. Got it?” No, she couldn’t do that. Not a chance. But she smiled at the thought.