Wounds of Time

by Stevie D. Parker

  “Yeah, he did,” I said. “I absolutely give him credit for that. He could have gotten into a lot of trouble, considering how young I was and how mad my parents were. The first time they met him was when we told them I was pregnant. Not that they would have liked him any better if I wasn’t. We were parents ourselves at such an early age that we never really got to experiment with different things, you know, in bed.”

  I finished my glass of wine, so Lisa reached into the bucket of ice next to us, poured me another glass, and then topped hers off.

  “Jimmy and I like to roleplay,” she said, bringing the glass to her lips for a sip.

  “Roleplay?”

  “Yeah. Like, we’ll go into a bar, pretend we don’t know each other. He’ll pick me up, and then we’ll go do it in the car or something,” Lisa said.

  Now I looked at her like she was the one with three heads. “Like Vince would ever do that in one of his precious cars.”

  “Look, you guys have been married for twenty years. You need to spice it up a bit. Switch it up, make it exciting. What’s he into?” Lisa asked.

  “What’s he into?” I repeated. “I don’t know, normal stuff. I think in his mind, I never grew up, like I’m still sixteen. He still treats me like I’m this fragile being.”

  “He never mentioned anything that he wanted to do? Or that maybe he did with other girls before you?” she asked.

  I paused for a minute and took a deep breath. “When I found out I was pregnant, I kept trying to call him, but he wasn’t picking up. We didn’t have texting back then, so I did something really dumb, I showed up at his house.”

  Lisa leaned in closer, realizing the story was about to get interesting.

  “He was there with a girl,” I continued. “A woman, I should say, she had to be at least thirty. I was devastated, crying. I felt like such a fool. He awkwardly introduced me to the woman, called her Melissa, who then got pretty upset over his introduction because her name was actually Melanie. He didn’t even know her name!” I shook my head. “When she left, he thought I was overreacting, said we’d never had a conversation that we were in a relationship. Melanie was striking. Spanish, huge boobs, really pretty and put together. The complete opposite of me.”

  “Doesn’t sound that different than you,” Lisa said.

  “Well, then she was. Back then, I was pretty plain. Vince swore he liked me and that sleeping with her didn’t mean otherwise. Said she was just easy. A week later, we were engaged. I’ve asked him about his encounter with her so many times, I might as well have been in the room with them. I wanted every single detail. Evidently, she wanted it rough. Real rough. I asked him if he wanted to do that with me, and he always said no. I think he was traumatized when he found out I was sixteen. He thought I’d be relieved to know that he didn’t go down on her, said that was too intimate to him.” I shook my head in disgust. “Gotta love men—going down on a girl is intimate, yet sticking your dick in her isn’t. To this day, I still can’t get her face out of my head.”

  “So…sounds like some Fifty Shades of Grey type shit,” Lisa said.

  I stared at her, puzzled. “What’s Fifty Shades of Grey?”

  “Are you kidding me?” she asked. “It’s like the hottest book of the millennium, everyone is talking about it. Come on. After this, we are going to a bookstore and getting you a copy.”

  After we finished our meal, we headed right over to Herald Square. I purchased the book that apparently “everyone was talking about.” It took me three days to finish the thing. Wow—who knew that so many people were into S&M? Was I that out of the loop?

  Next, Lisa brought me to an adult store, and well, I picked up some things there that I would have never imagined myself using.

  The following night I decided to surprise Vince. I put on this leather outfit that may as well have been painted on me. With much difficulty, I tied myself to the bed, stuffing this ridiculous thing I’d bought in my mouth. When Vince got home that night, it took him a while to come into the bedroom. I could hear him downstairs, fixing himself a drink, scavenging through the fridge. It was a Friday night, Nick and Casey were away at college. There was no good reason why we couldn’t get kinky.

  I tried to look as sexy as possible as I heard him walk up the stairs. I sucked in everything that needed to be sucked in, positioned myself in a completely submissive form. He still had the drink in his hand when he opened the door and stood there, staring at me like I was insane. Not a sexy look at all.

  When he realized I was tied to the bedposts, he said, “What the fuck is going on in that bed?”

  Not exactly the response I was going for.

  I tried talking, but turns out, it’s hard to speak with a ball gag in your mouth.

  Vince approached the bed, drink still in hand, and removed the ball from my mouth.

  “What is this?” he asked, turning the object around in his hand, trying to examine it.

  “It’s a ball gag,” I replied.

  “And what exactly is a ball gag?” he asked, confused.

  I guess I was semi relieved that he didn’t know what it was. “It’s um…well, it’s to muffle my screams when you, you know, get rough or beat me,” I said. Wow, that sounded so bad.

  He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. His mouth hung half open, as if he were going to say something, but nothing came out. He downed the rest of his drink, and then looked back at me like he was still trying to figure out what to say.

  “Would you rather be the one to get beat?” I asked, hoping he said no.

  Now he was thoroughly un-entertained. He shook his head in disgust, and put the ball gag down on the night table. “Why is anyone getting beat in this scenario?”

  I was mortified. I guess he’d never heard of Fifty Shades of Grey, either. I didn’t know how to explain. I couldn’t exactly admit that Lisa suggested it while I was complaining about our sex life.

  “I don’t know I just thought maybe it would turn you on,” I said.

  He untied me from the bed. “Well, it doesn’t,” he said, and walked over to the dressing room to change his clothes.

  He went into the guest room, and I suppose he went to sleep. I don’t exactly remember when he started sleeping in the guest room full time. It had been years now. Vince had never been a good sleeper. He woke up every hour and checked emails regularly throughout the night. He started sleeping in there, so he didn’t disturb me during his nightly activities. I never thought anything of it. From everything I’d heard, it was typical for a white-collar businessman to have sleeping issues. He really only came into the bedroom to get dressed or, on occasion, have sex. We never had sex in the guest room, always the master bedroom. If someone was sleeping over and needed the guest room, then and only then would he sleep in the bed with me. During those times, I didn’t get much sleep.

  The next night, I decided that instead of going full-out freak, maybe I’d just wear a sexy Santa outfit, what with Christmas being so close. Vince was sitting on the couch in the living room, watching TV. I came in with a trench coat and my surprise Santa outfit underneath.

  “I have an early Christmas present for you,” I said.

  He put the remote down, folded his hands together and looked up at me with a grin.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked.

  Finally, he seemed interested! He wasn’t stupid. He knew I had something sexy on underneath or nothing at all.

  I shut the TV off and put the music on. I found the sexiest Christmas song I could find, one that I could strip to. I started dancing around the living room, moving seductively and taking off the trench coat as “Santa Baby” played in the background.

  When the music came on, his facial expression changed. He sat up straight and started moving his neck back and forth, biting on his thumb nail. Did he not like this song? For a few moments, he looked like he was still trying to play along. But when I dropped my trench coat and straddled his lap to seduce h
im, he got this weird look on his face.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  He was quiet for a minute, like he didn’t know what to say.

  When he did speak, he said, “I have to shit,” and then moved me off his lap so that he could rush to the bathroom and lock the door.

  I stopped the music and slumped on the couch. I suddenly felt like I was a teenager, getting rejected by the guy I had a crush on. Only difference was I had never been rejected by someone I had a crush on, and also—I didn’t exactly have a crush on him. He was my husband. That made his reaction an even bigger burn.

  The next day while getting manicures and pedicures with Lisa, I couldn’t help but vent. What did I do wrong? What did Vince have against “Santa Baby”? Was I just not attractive anymore?

  “Maybe he really did have to shit,” Lisa said, trying to justify his actions.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked.

  “I mean, you guys have been married so long now—maybe he’s just comfortable being that honest with you.”

  “In the middle of sex?!” I wasn’t buying it. Granted, Vince and I didn’t have the perfect marriage, but we used to at least have sex. Even if it was just an act to get each other off, we’d been together so long that we could easily arouse each other within minutes. I assumed he cheated, at least once in a while. Why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t like we were madly in love. At home, though, he always played the game.

  The day after that, I was at home watching TV when Vince called me in the afternoon. He never called in the afternoon, so I picked up, concerned. He was yelling so loud that he was hard to understand.

  “What? Slow down. I can’t understand you—what the fuck are you so mad about?” I asked.

  “This is what you and Lisa do all day long? Talk shit about your sex lives?” he yelled.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Answer this, why would Jimmy tell me I should take care of my wife before someone else does? Let me guess, was the ball gag Lisa’s suggestion?”

  Oh shit. My heart dropped into my stomach. He was furious, to say the least. Wouldn’t even let me get a sentence out. “Vince,” I began, but he cut me off.

  “My job is stressful enough, especially at the end of the year. You think I need this added high school drama? You like the Louboutins on your feet, or your revolving bedroom that’s redecorated every month? What the fuck do you think I’m doing all day? Working. I know you probably have no concept of what that word means, but that’s where your bank account comes from. I can assure you, I have no time for this baby bullshit!” he yelled.

  “Can I—” I tried, but he cut me off again.

  “Hey, I have an idea. You want to get so kinky? How about we suggest a swap with Lisa and Jimmy, I’m sure they’d be down. Wanna fuck Jimmy? He thinks you’re crazy hot, I can arrange it.”

  Finally, there was a pause. “No Vince, I do not want to sleep with Jimmy,” I said in an even tone.

  “Aw that’s too bad, guess you’re still stuck with me!” Then he hung up on me.

  He didn’t get home that night until after 10 p.m. Vince wasn’t a big drinker. Every night like clockwork, he had one glass of scotch and brought it up to his room before bed. I guess the alcohol took the edge off from his day at work. But that night, I smelled the distinct scent on him the second he walked through the door. He must have been drinking for hours. I hated the smell of scotch on him. He walked into the kitchen to pour himself another glass, barely looking at me, not saying anything. I hadn’t seen him this quiet in a very long time.

  “Can we talk?” I suggested.

  He looked up at me. “Oh, you want to talk? You haven’t done enough talking already?” He took a sip of his drink. He looked so hurt, like I’d betrayed him, or challenged his manhood. He stared down at the counter, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “Vince, I…you’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything to Lisa. I was just frustrated, so I thought we could try out different things. Spice it up a bit. Trying to make it not so…boring,” I said.

  He rested his hand over his mouth and looked at me for a minute. “Boring?” He started to approach me.

  “Maybe ‘boring’ isn’t the right word,” I said, back-peddling. “Routine?”

  “Routine?” he repeated, raising his eyes to the ceiling. He grabbed me and turned me over the sink. “You want it rough?”

  I clutched the sink as he lifted my nightgown and started having sex with me right there, from behind. Against the sink and hard. Really hard. In a way, it was actually pretty sexy. He’d never been that forceful before, with his fingers digging into my hips and pulling me to him.

  As I was getting really into it, he reached his hand across the sink and filled his palm with dishwashing liquid. I had no idea what he was planning until suddenly, I got the answer to that question. Using the liquid as a lubricant, he pushed his finger into a hole that nothing ever naturally enters. I didn’t know what to do. It all happened so fast. Do I tell him to stop? Let him keep going? I was the one who’d introduced this idea the other night.

  Then it happened. His finger disappeared, replaced by him—his penis, in the hole that nothing was ever supposed to enter. It hurt, so bad. All I could think about was Melanie and what they did together. Was he really into this? Had he been lying to me the whole time? I was holding the sink so hard, my knuckles were white. Then, he reached around to my front and shoved two fingers into me there, too. I let him keep going, hoping it wouldn’t take him too long to get off.

  Luckily, the act must have excited him because he finished pretty quickly. I turned around, pulled my nightgown back down, and looked at him. Speechless.

  He zipped up his pants and topped off his drink. “Make sure when you tell Lisa about this tomorrow, you let her know we broke the routine, and I popped in your ass. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted?” he asked.

  I was too embarrassed to reply. He stood there for a few minutes, waiting for an answer. When he realized he wasn’t getting one, he shook his head, sighed, and walked upstairs. I stayed in the kitchen, staring at the dishwashing liquid for quite a while, trying to process what had just happened.

  After that, we barely spoke until his company Christmas party a few nights later. I guess I was afraid to even bring it up again. I wasn’t sure if this type of sex was something that he really liked, and if so, why hadn’t he brought it up after all these years? I knew he’d done that with Melanie. I’d even offered in the past, but he’d always said no. Now I wondered: did he do this with other girls?

  I walked into the room as he gazed into the mirror, straightening his bowtie, and asked him to zip up my gown.

  He zipped me and said, “I don’t get my company. We go from one extreme to the next. Either strip joints or black-tie affairs. What about a nice company Christmas dinner? Does no one eat dinner anymore?”

  Vince hated this party. First of all, he had to give a speech, and he hated public speaking. More importantly, though, he hated meeting the spouses of the employees. He had a rule not to get to know anyone in the office. Aside from Jimmy, he had no friends at work. He figured if he didn’t know them personally, then it would strictly be a business decision and not a personal one when he had to let someone go.

  “Do I look okay?” I asked.

  He made me do a turnaround. I’d had my hair styled into banana curls and wore a long black gown with diamond-like sequins around the halter top. My stilettos were diamond cut to match the dress, which accented the real diamond Tiffany’s necklace and tennis bracelet pair I was wearing.

  He smiled as he watched me. “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

  The venue was only a mile away, but Vince made sure he drove his Porsche there. He put on quite the show. He climbed out, opened the door for me, and in we walked, hand-in-hand. He stopped to shake some employees’ hands and wish them a Merry Christmas on our way to the executive table, where he was seated right n
ext to the CEO.

  “There’s the couple of the year!” Phil said, standing up to greet us. “Samantha, how is it possible you look younger and younger every time I see you?”

  It had taken me years to get comfortable around Phil. He was very intimidating by nature. In his late thirties, extremely young to be a CEO. Dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, always tan from some excursion that he’d just returned from. He wasn’t married and always had a beautiful woman on his arm.

  “Thank you,” I gushed, kissing him on the cheek.

  “I’m a lucky guy,” Vince said, extending his hand to Phil.

  “In more ways than one,” Phil said. “Looks like we’re going to end up having a great year. Maybe you can get a nice summer house with that bonus you get.”

  Vince laughed. “Thank you, but I try to live below my means, never know when my luck is going to run out.”

  I’d give him that—he didn’t live as flashy as he could, considering the number of zeros in his bank account. I was always trying to get him to buy fancier things the way Phil or Jimmy did, but he said he found it unnecessary. Even wearing a nice suit took him quite a while to get used to. If the decision were up to him, he’d be in jogging pants and some sort of band t-shirt every day. He never complained about me spending money though.

  Vince was nervous when Phil stood to give the opening speech—squeezing my hand hard, while gulping the drink in his other hand.

  “… and without further ado, I’ll let the person who handles this more closely come up and speak—my right-hand man, Vince DeLuca,” Phil said.

  Vince walked up to the microphone. “I’ll keep this short and sweet so that you can all go back to eating and drinking. This year was a great year. With three weeks left to go, we’re projecting the Nasdaq at a little over a thirty eight percent gain, DOW twenty-six and a half, and S&P up almost twenty-seven percent. Best in a long time. That’s the boring stuff. The things that all the hardworking brokers here already know, and your spouses don’t care about. I’d really rather take this time to just thank everyone for the hard work they’ve put in all year long.”