by S. K. Lessly
“What about?”
“Same shit, different day; nothing’s changed. She's pissed I don’t have a regular job, that I work a lot of hours and I’m not home for her, shit like that. Bro, she even started nitpicking everything I do. Just the other day she started yelling at me because I didn’t fold the towels the way she likes it.” Samson smirked, and I gave him a pointed look and added, “Dude, they were my fucking towels. The ones I use when I’m working on the car. Yeah, that shit isn’t funny now, is it?”
“Serious?” he asked incredulously. I nodded and he shook his head. “I thought you were talking about the house towels.”
“Nope. But even if I was, it doesn’t matter. We wash our own clothes, including the towels I use. And I keep everything in the basement. She doesn’t touch them or see them so why should she care how I fold my shit.”
“If you keep your shit in the basement, how—”
“She was complaining about something else I did or didn’t do while I was folding my clothes. She stopped her bickering to comment on my folding. She’s getting on my nerves for real.”
Samson chuckled. “Bro, that just sounds like typical married stuff. It’s a wife’s job to give us shit, especially since we’re not home every day.”
I nodded and shifted to the left a little so I could see Samson better. “No, I agree. It’s just nitpicking that happens between married couples. What I have a problem with is when I bring up shit that pisses me off and she doesn’t want to hear it. Suddenly, I’m the bad guy who needs to go to hell.”
“What are you complaining about? She doesn’t dry the dishes after she washes them?” He smirked at me, knowing damn well how much that very thing irritated me.
“No, smartass. I called her out on the late-night partying.”
Samson sat up, as I knew he would, his interest piqued.
“Bout damn time. What did she say?”
I had complained to Samson on multiple occasions about Sabrina and her late nights. I didn’t have a problem with her hanging out with her girlfriends. I would be a hypocrite if I did. What had me pissed was the constant late nights and the drunken state she’d come home in at the end of the night.
You have no idea how many drunk-driving accidents I got called to on a regular basis. Sometimes, I prayed I wouldn't pull up to a scene and find my wife stuck in some mangled mess of steel or wrapped around a poll or worse learn she had killed someone or herself. There were times she could barely make it to the bathroom before she was throwing up everywhere. I had to clean her up multiple times, unsure if she was just drunk or if she was high too. I had asked one morning, when she sobered up, if she took something other than aspirin but she always said no. I knew what it looked like when a person was drunk, high or both and there were times she looked like both.
Sabrina’s behavior changed without warning. She had started working late and hanging out with co-workers until the early hours last summer. She had quit her teaching job and accepted a new position working with the district’s school board.
As I said, I didn’t mind the occasional happy hour or partying with her friends. It was the fact that her partying had gone from the occasional weekend to every weekend and some week nights too.
I couldn’t do shit about it when I was at work. My schedule had me working forty-eight-hour shifts. However, when I was home and we would make plans to spend time together, she’d blow me off without a word. And before you say it, no, I had never told her we'd hang out and bailed without a word.
I wasn’t saying I never had to cancel on her, but at least I’d call. She'd know I was home waiting for her to get there so we could go out to eat or have drinks or head into the city for a night out, and she'd not show or call me.
“She didn’t say anything about staying out late,” I told Samson, getting back to his question. “She turned it around on me as usual. She started bringing up how lonely she is when I’m at work, and asked me what I expected her to do, stay home and wait for me. Blah, blah, again, same shit different day.”
“Do you blame her? The hours we work can be hard on wives.”
“I’m not denying that, Samson. But what does she expect me to do about it? This is my job. It’s what I’ve been doing for years now. I understand it can take a toll on a marriage. It’s the reason why I try to spend my days off with her. However, I can’t do that if she’s not home.”
“And you’ve told her this?”
“Multiple times. This hasn’t been the first time we’ve talked about my job and her partying all night. We’ve talked about it during our counseling sessions and she promised to cut back and spend more time at home.”
“And has she? I recall you saying that things were getting better.”
I nodded my head. “Yeah, things had been getting better, especially since we’ve started doing the couple’s thing at my house on the weekends. But I don’t know, things started going downhill after we got back from the Poconos. In fact, things had gotten worse.”
“Which is the reason for this trip?”
I nodded and swiped my hand down my tired, face. “Which is the reason for this trip.”
“Well, man. It’s good that you’re taking this trip. You two really need to sit down and talk.”
“I agree. I think this is it. We need to either find a way to make this work or we’re doomed.”
Samson leaned over and brought his large fist down on my arm. “Okay then, why are you sitting here like you’re doomed?”
I blew out a breath, leaned to the side and pulled out my cell. I held it up and tried not to get pissed all over again. “Because, I’ve been calling my wife for the past hour and she hasn’t answered her phone.”
Samson’s eyebrows rose. “For real?” I nodded and woke up the screen to check my phone again. Just like before, there was no missed call or unread text from Sabrina.
“I’m telling you, Samson, if she’s not home when I get there, ready and packed, shit’s not going to be pretty.”
Samson breathed out and stood. “Hey, man, I wouldn’t worry about that. Sabrina knows what’s at stake. You said it before she told you she was committed to making this marriage work, and I think she means it. Look, you need to just relax and enjoy the time with your wife. Get reacquainted. Fuck her brains out.” I laughed and shook my head. If only it was that simple. Samson grinned down at me. “That is if your white ass is capable.” I gave him the finger. He laughed. “Seriously, though, stop worrying about it. I believe she values your marriage. Melissa even said that Sabrina was looking forward to getting away with you. So, there you have it. She’ll be waiting. Hell, maybe she forgot to turn on her cell when she got off from work. Melissa does that shit all the time. It pisses me off.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” I ran my hand down my face and stood too.
Samson clasped my shoulders, turned me, and pushed me out of the lounge area. “I know I’m right. Now, go get your shit. I just saw Burger come in. I’m sure he wouldn’t care if you left a few minutes early.”
I looked at him a bit surprised as he pushed me toward our locker room. Jim Burger, who was another lieutenant of the house, and my counterpart, never came to work early. If anything, you’d be lucky if his ass came in on time.
“You’re sure he’s here?” I asked just to be sure.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I just passed him coming to talk to you. Now, get out of here. You have enough time to get home, make sure your wife is packed and get to the airport in plenty enough time for your flight. Have a good time and see you when you get back.”
I gave Samson a smile before I jogged toward the locker rooms to make sure Burger was good with me heading out a little early. He was and not five minutes later I was in my truck making my way home.
We were scheduled to fly out of Newark airport at 10:50 and I wanted to shower and do some last-minute packing before we left the house.
When I finally made it home, Sabrina’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Refusing to let it bother
me, I took out my phone and called her again. She didn’t answer. I closed my eyes, blew out a breath, and tried not to get pissed. I fired off a text, asking if she was on her way home, hoping she’d answer with a yes. But like all of the other text messages I sent, they went unanswered.
Before I lost my mind, I tried to think rationally. This trip was her idea. About a week ago, things were on the verge of ending between us, something I hadn’t shared with Samson. I had told her shit either needed to change or I was out. The counseling wasn’t working in my opinion and I was tired of fighting and tired of fucking pretending. That’s when she panicked and suggested we take this trip. Her argument was that we both needed a neutral place to get out minds right and to really talk about us. Reluctantly, I agreed and we decided to plan a trip to Florida to veg out on the beach, spend quality time together and just talk. Also, we had planned to visit her family while we were there too. She hadn’t seen them in a few months. I knew she was looking forward to the visit.
I had worked miracles to get the time off by switching schedules with Burger in order for me to have at least four days off in a row. Despite my reservations and what I’d said to Samson, I was looking forward to this trip. This trip was “do or die” for us. We either would get our shit together or I was out.
I was about to call her again when a thought popped into my head. Maybe she had already packed before she left the house and was ready to go. I climbed out of my truck and made my way inside. Her bags weren't by the front door or in her room. I still didn’t let it get to me. It was possible she had already placed them in the trunk of her car. It was unlikely, but I was being optimistic.
I shrugged off the dread that started to creep along my spine and started packing for the trip. I showered, got dressed, and placed my bags at the door around quarter to nine all the while periodically calling and texting Sabrina. Still, my phone remained silent.
I was beginning to worry as time ticked by. I was going to give her a few more minutes, and then I was going to start looking for her. Thirty minutes later, Sabrina stumbled through the door.
I leaned on the doorway between the living room and kitchen and folded my arms in front of my chest. She frowned at me and narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“I’ve been calling you for hours now. Why haven’t you returned my calls or texts?”
She rolled her eyes, which did nothing but piss me off even more.
“My phone was on vibrate from work and I forgot to turn it back on. I didn’t hear it, okay? Why are you all over me? I’m surprised you’re even here.” She pushed past me and walked into the kitchen.
“Sabrina, what the hell are you doing?” I turned to follow her.
She didn’t reply at first. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. When she saw me standing in the doorway of the kitchen, she sighed heavily. “What does it look like, Paul? I mean really, what’s your problem?”
I watched her and tried to calm my anger. I took a few deep breaths and in an even voice asked, “Are your suitcases in the car?”
She sat down at the kitchen table. “What suitcases?”
“Sabrina, we have a flight to catch in an hour and twenty minutes. If we speed, we may be able to make it.”
Sabrina looked at me confused at first, but then her eyes brightened and she put her hands to her mouth. “Oh, shit! The trip… It’s this weekend?”
That was it!
“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Sabrina, we made plans for us to get away this weekend and see your parents. You spent over a thousand dollars for last-minute tickets because you said it was important for us to get away this weekend!” I knew I was yelling at this point, but I was far beyond caring. “I changed shifts at the last minute so we could go on this trip and you forgot?”
She stood. “I’m sorry, Paul, okay? I’ve had a lot going on this week. You weren’t home like all week.”
“Yeah, because I was making up time for this trip. Fuck!”
I smacked the wall next to me in frustration. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down my rapid heart rate. When I had calmed down a bit, I opened my eyes and looked at my wife.
“Okay, look,” I began, my voice low. “Why don’t you go upstairs and throw some things in a bag? We can go shopping or something when we get there. I think I can get us…” I trailed off as Sabrina shook her head no. She looked at her watch and then back at me, her face crestfallen.
“We’re not going to make it.” I started to protest but she added in a low tone. “We were flying out of JFK.”
I watched her for a long moment, thinking of all the ways I wanted to kill her. I couldn’t believe it. I ran my hand over my head and closed my eyes again. I knew this shit was going to happen. I felt in my bones she was going to fuck this up and I had a hard time believing she hadn’t done this shit on purpose.
Unable to stand the sight of her or the sound of her breathing, I turned and headed to the living room to grab my bag. No way was I staying in this house with her a second longer. I feared what I would do and seeing the blasé look on her face would undoubtedly cause me to lose my shit.
“Paul, where are you going?” she called out after me. I didn’t respond.
“Look, you can’t be mad at me,” she shrieked, her voice tinged with just a slight hint of guilt and fear. “So, what? I forgot about this stupid trip. It’s no big deal. We can go next weekend.”
I stopped walking and turned abruptly to face her. “No, Sabrina, we can’t go next weekend. Did you listen to anything I just said? I can’t take off next weekend. I switched my schedule so we could go this gotdamn weekend.” When she looked at me blankly, I shook my head, disgusted. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”
Sabrina, as was her fashion these days, lashed back. “It’s not my fault you don’t have a normal job like normal people. You’re running around saving the world while your house burns to the ground. Your wife needs you and you’re never here.”
“Oh, no, Sabrina, I’m here more times than I’m working. You, on the other hand, are not. You’ve been out partying like you’re single, with your single friends, getting shitfaced. I’ve asked you time and time again to cut back, to stay home or go out with me, but you choose your friends over me every time.”
“Well, you choose your job over me all the time. I’m in this house miserable every night. I’m alone and wanting some companionship from my husband, but you have no time for me and it seems you never will!” she screamed that last part at me and it took everything I had not rip my house apart.
I was so enraged that I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples and neck. I knew I needed to leave before I said something to her I couldn’t take back. I took a deep breath to calm myself and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings. I couldn’t think of shit.
I leaned close to my wife and said calmly, “If you’re so miserable, why don’t you be done with this. If you are sooo fucking unhappy and you want out of this relationship, be gone when I get back.”
Without saying another word, I grabbed my bag by the door and walked out. I threw my bag in the cab of my pickup and got in despite the yelling frenzy of Sabrina behind me. I didn’t know where I was going and frankly, I didn’t care, I just knew I had to leave that house immediately.
I drove aimlessly for a while until I found a decent hotel off the Garden State Parkway, heading toward Clifton. When I got into my hotel room, I threw my bag down and fought the urge to break everything in the room. I was extremely frustrated and deep down, I wished Sabrina would take my advice and leave before I got home.
I was so tired of fighting and the back-and-forth bickering that we did. It seemed to be getting worse and worse as the weeks passed. I was trying my best to hold on. I really didn’t want to give up on this so easily even though the temptation was to do just that. I didn’t deserve the way she was treating me and fuck this trying to save face bullshit.
; What I didn’t want to do was end up like my parents, in a loveless marriage because of convenience, routine and pure laziness. I saw a lot of what my father did to my mother and I vowed to never do that to my wife and here I was repeating the sins of my father.
I grabbed the key for my hotel room and went in search of a bar. Lucky for me, I found one in the lobby of my hotel. I walked inside, found a spot at the end of the bar, and made plans to be there until I couldn’t feel my face. It didn’t take away the frustration or the anger, but it numbed the pain enough for me to simply pass out the second I got back to my room.
11
Paul
A familiar scent, her scent began to fill my world as I breathed deeply. Soft hands glided up my thighs, caressing me, lighting my entire body on fire. I moaned softly, needing more, waiting for… Fuuuck.
The feel of fingers wrapping around my shaft caused my body to jolt in pleasure. I opened my eyes and looked down my body to find a gorgeous set of brown eyes looking back at me.
Wait? What?
“Lauren,” I whispered shocked as hell to see her. What the hell? How did she get inside my room?
I opened my mouth to ask her that very question when I felt her take a languid, mind-fuck of a lick from the root of my cock to the tip.
“Fuucck…” I breathed out on a shaky breath and fell back against the bed. The sensation her tongue created sent white hot sparks through my veins.
I should stop her. I should…
“Holy fuck…” I blurted and opened my eyes, unsure when I closed them, and tried to focus on what she was doing to me. The feel of her soft lips, as she expertly took me deep inside her warm mouth, had me moaning in blissful pleasure.
Shit, she felt good. Her lips felt amazing wrapped around me. And what the hell was she doing with her tongue?
