For the past few days, I’d spent more time in the study … studying porn. Tash thought I was putting in overtime for work, which I guess was debatable. I had been ‘working’, just not the type of work she thought, instead the type that involved obtaining pointers for various bedroom techniques and sex talk. She seemed to like the dirty sex talk, which was great. But I’d been tame and planned to turn it up a notch. I also planned to stick my dick in her arse. Baby steps, Dean. Baby steps.
Hearing the speaker of my phone buzz, I pressed the button to hear Hillary.
“Yeah?”
“Rob wishes to see you. Should I tell him you’re dead?”
She giggled, and I laughed. “Yeah, that would be good.”
“I heard that, dipshit,” he said through the speaker.
“Good, then you’ll know I’m a ghost and will haunt you if you bother me.”
“Can you be Demi Moore and I be Patrick Swayze, and can we make pottery together?”
I hung up on him, and seconds later my door opened and he strolled on in like he owned the joint. “So what’s it gonna be … a bowl or a vase?” he asked, positioning his hands in front of himself and moving them up down as if to make a long pottery vase … or stroking an invisible dick that he wished he had.
“Neither. What do you want? I’m fucking swamped.”
Rob placed his hands on my desk and leaned in. “You got another one of those staple remover things?”
I laughed at him. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me, right?”
He shook then rubbed his semi-bald head. “Nup. I’m losin’ them quicker than my hair. And I’m losin’ that real fast.”
“No, I haven’t got another one. And if I did, I wouldn’t give it to you.”
He pushed off my desk. “Why are you such a soft cock?”
“I’m not,” I said, boasting a calculated smile.
Rob’s eyes lit up, and he took a seat in front of my desk. “Did you get a bit last night?”
I rocked my chair back and threaded my hands behind my head. “A bit? I’ve been gettin’ a lot lately.”
“Lucky bastard. How much is ‘a lot’? I bet your wife reads those sex books.”
I rocked forward, curious. “What sex books?”
“You know, those whips and chains books that all the women are reading nowadays.” He turned my nameplate round the wrong way. “Cheryl’s sister had a ton of them. She’d tried to get Cheryl to read them but my prude of an ex-wife wouldn’t.”
Tash read books all the time, but they weren’t these ‘sex books’ that Rob was talking about. The one she was reading the other night in bed looked like it was about swimming or maybe even drowning. Definitely not sex.
I shook my head and turned my nameplate round the right way. “My wife reads, but she doesn’t read sex books. Not that it matters if she does or doesn’t. Sex books don’t get you sex.”
“Yes, they do. And how do you know she doesn’t read them?”
“Because I do.”
“Whatever.” He leaned over my desk and opened my drawer. “You sure you haven’t got a stapl— Oh, what do we have here?” he asked, a shit eating grin bursting from his smugly-arse face as he snatched the Sexyland bag I’d hidden. Oh fuck!
I went to snatch it back but he was too fast. “Rob, for fuck’s sake. Hand it over.”
“No can do.” He sat back and wrenched it open, bellowing at the top of his voice. “Deano! You got one!” The obnoxious fucker laughed, reached in, and pulled out the pussy in a can I’d bought this morning on my way to work. “Mate, you won’t be sorry. They work like a charm.” He turned the can around. “Nice! You got the Vulcan Vagina. Good choice.” He tossed it from one hand to another, as if it were a tennis ball. “But hang on a minute … if you’re gettin’ ‘a lot’ at home, why do you need this, huh?”
“Will you put that back,” I hissed. “Hillary could walk in at any moment.” I tried to snatch it back yet again. “And for your information, I am gettin’ ‘a lot’. I wasn’t planning on buying that stupid thing. I was looking for something else. I only paused for a split second to look at it when the sales woman came up to me then wouldn’t leave me alone, so I panicked and bought it together with some cinnamon spray that was on the counter. Apparently, if you breathe it on them, women will want to fuck you.”
“Really? Where’s that?” He dug deep into the bag and pulled out the small spray bottle. “That’s the shit,” he said, shaking it and unscrewing the lid before opening his mouth, poking out his tongue and spraying twice.
How he managed not to spray himself in the eye, I’d never know.
“What’s it taste like?” I asked, chuckling at the squinty-eyed fuck.
“Cinnamon. It’s not ba—”
“Sorry to interrupt, Dean, but here’s the fax from the Lutcliffs,” Hillary announced, as she burst through my door, head down, reading the paperwork in her hands.
Both Rob and I jumped like frogs on a trampoline, Rob fumbling with the pussy can and cinnamon spray. The pussy can slipped from his hands and rolled along the floor, and we watched, as if in slow motion, as the picture of the big-breasted woman with spread legs appeared every rotation of the can, until it stopped … at Hillary’s feet.
She looked down.
We looked up.
She looked up.
We looked down.
“Dean, you’re a sick man,” Rob declared. The balding, fat, shithead then stood up and placed the cinnamon spray and empty bag on my desk before hauling arse to my door. “Sorry, Hillary,” he murmured, pausing as he passed her. “If you need to report him to HR, I’ll be your witness.”
She didn’t answer him, instead bending down and picking up the can. Rob opened the door and burst into silent hysterics behind Hill’s back, and all I could do was sit there and watch as he taunted me with bird-flipping and fake tear-wiping.
“Goodbye, Rob,” I said through gritted teeth.
He closed the door, all the while murmuring, “Sick, sick man.”
“Hill, I’m so sor—”
“Vulcan Vagina, huh?” she asked, her face half smiling. “Bad choice. You should’ve gone for the Fleshlight. You can do so much more with them.” She placed the fax on my desk and sat the can on top of it.
And then she left the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tash
Sometimes I wondered if we saw things differently because of our own insecurities, or if what was before our eyes was definitive. Like Hillary; she was definitive … there, in the flesh, all giggly and huggy, and “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Dean”. But through my newly formed, uncontrollable and unwanted green vision, I wondered if her giggle was flirtatious, her hugging audacious, and her declaration suggestive. I wasn’t sure. My memories of her had never been like that, and yet there she was, all touchy-feely with my husband. And for how long? Ugh! Donuts.
Self-doubt was a tricky little turd. It twisted your vulnerability and hacked away at your inner strength and stability. It turned a good situation into anything but, which was exactly what had happened after I’d shown up at Dean’s work the previous day.
Thanks to Alexis’s optimistic ‘feed your confidence, feed your vagina’ pep talk, I’d been empowered with a renewed sense of self-assurance — something I hadn’t tapped into post-motherhood. I’d felt great, alive, excited, and encouraged by the fact that Dean and I still nurtured lust, that I’d taken myself to his work only to then have it all zapped away in one moment of seeing another woman’s arms around him — a younger woman, a pretty woman, a woman who, technically, spent more time with him than I did. And, because of that, all the ‘you’ve got this shit’ that Lexi and I had drilled into my head over and over had flown the fuck off and left me with ‘you’ve got nothing but shit’ instead.
It was a horrible feeling. Hideous. A feeling I’d never really experienced before, having been too preoccupied as a working mother and wife to pay any attention to who might be flittering their
romantic or sexual intentions around Dean. The thought of what temptation he could face had never really concerned me because, like me, I truly believed he could never succumb to it. But then I had … succumbed, to an extent.
In a moment of weakness, I’d failed not only me but also Dean and my marriage. And if I was capable of that, anyone was … even Dean. Oh my God! Has he succumbed to Hillary? Has she seduced him, pursued him, touched him and kissed him?
I swallowed thickly as I unlocked the door to my office, shutting it behind me and leaning up against it. The thought made me ill. It also made me the world’s biggest hypocrite. But he was my husband and I loved him, and despite my failures, I would never want to see or hear of him with anyone else but me.
Taking a cup and filling it with water from the water filter tank, I took a long sip and closed my eyes, only to have them reopened when my phone sounded a message.
Dale: Tash, I know you said not to contact you,
but I have to say I’m so fucking sorry.
I feel awful.
There’s no excuse for how I’ve acted these past couple of weeks.
Please don’t hate me.
I’ve taken leave from work to get my head right.
I’ve also deleted the footage like you asked.
All I can do now is hope you’ll talk to me when I return.
Again, Tash, I’m really fucking sorry.
My legs weakened as I lowered myself to sit at my desk, reading Dale’s message a second and third time before tears fell from my eyes and dampened my cheeks. My ‘fight fire with fire’ attitude had worked so well that it had driven him from our workplace, and that saddened me, although I knew his absence and time apart was for the best. But I, too, felt awful because I’d never wanted this; I’d never wanted him to feel he had to flee or assess the type of person he was or had become because of me. All I’d wanted was for him stop the chase, to stop the temptation. Except, temptation wasn’t one-sided; it was fed by the tempter and nurtured by the temptee.
I nurtured his chase, and in turn chased him away.
* * *
The first week of Dale’s absence went by slowly, the second, a little less, and the third, much quicker. When at work, I’d focussed solely on getting my job done, which had been great besides the niggling deep within that would only disappear upon confronting Dale when he returned — I just didn’t know when that would be, and I wasn’t about to message him and ask.
On a good note, things at home between Dean and I were the best they’d been in years. The sex was spontaneous and a little strange at times, but never boring. He was a different person in the bedroom, but I guess, so was I. We were happy, on par with one another, helping each other out and just basically communicating. We’d barely fought, and that was because every time I cracked the shits, he’d just … kiss me. Out of the blue. For no good reason other than to shut me up and kiss me.
At first it was bloody annoying, then it was fucking infuriating, and now it was amusing and a little aggravating when trying to avoid. But, most of all, what it did was shift all focus from fighting. It diffused an explosive situation, and although we’d need to sort the situation out at some stage, kiss-distraction was always a good thing.
Another good thing was date night. Something I’d arranged and planned to have once a month. It was a night without the boys, without the noise, but not without the toys. Yep, when I’d mentioned my idea to Dean, he’d been all for it, but he’d also added to it by suggesting we try something new each time, like a new position or sex toy. Tonight was our second date night, and it was his turn to introduce the something new. I was excited and nervous, so much so that I needed my Alexis pep talk before arriving home.
Pulling over in front of my neighbour, Trixiebell’s, house, I activated Bluetooth and called Lexi’s mobile.
“Sha la la la la, laa,” she sang, as she answered.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh my God, you really need to change your ringtone for me.”
“No! I like it.”
“But I’m Mrs Jones, not Mr Jones.”
“So. I like Counting Crows.”
“Ugh!” I huffed. “I’m gonna change yours then.”
“No you’re not. You love Lady in Red.”
“Not anymore. I’m gonna change it to … hmm, let’s see … Shut Up by Black Eyed Peas.”
“You suck.”
“Shut up. Just shut up. Shut Up,” I sang, taunting her.
“Did you want something?” she deadpanned.
“Yes, yes I did.”
“What?”
“It’s date night tonight.”
“And? This is your second one, right?”
“Yep. It’s his turn to bring the something new.”
“The something new? What are you talkin’ about? It’s not a wedding.”
“I know that—”
“You better not be ringing me for the something borrowed part, because you can fuck right off.”
I laughed. “What the hell would I want to borrow from you?”
“I don’t know, my nurse costume, nipple clamps, my—”
“YOUR NIPPLE CLAMPS?” I asked, a little too loudly going by the look on Trixie’s face.
I nodded my head and waved. She waved back and continued to prune her roses.
“Yes, my nipple clamps,” Alexis continued.
“What the hell do you have them for? Don’t they hurt?” I gently patted my tender nips, reassuring them that there would not be any clamping in the near future.
“No. Well, maybe a little bit. It’s a pleasurable type of pain though.”
“A pleasurable type of pain? How can pain be pleasurable?
“Easy. Come on … when he goes so deep you think your cervix is about to break open like a coconut, or when he slaps your arse and the sting bites into your flesh, or … anal.”
“There’s nothing pleasurable about anal. Shit’s meant to come out not go in.”
“You’re doin’ it wrong.”
“No, I’m just not doin’ it.”
“Missing ouuuuut,” she sang.
“Missing a blowouuuuut,” I sang back. “I’m cool with that.”
“A blowout? What are you talking about now?”
“Bowel blowout. No thanks. You can shove your anal up your arse.”
Trixiebell burst into laughter, and it was then that I realised Lexi’s and my conversation was louder than what I’d first realised. Oops!
“Who laughed? Who’s with you? Tash, do you have me on speaker phone?”
“No. Kinda. I’m in my car on Bluetooth. I think Trixiebell heard you.”
“TASH!”
“Don’t worry about it. Trixie hears everything. She’s always around, aren’t you, Trix?”
She threw me a thumbs-up and continued to laugh.
“You can prune my hedge too, if ya like,” I added.
Trix laughed even more and snipped her pruning shears in the air. I winked. Although, nosey and a tad meddlesome, my forty-something year-old neighbour was adorable and, at times, a lifesaver. If ever I needed an egg, Trixie had chickens. Lemondade, Trixie had lemons. Milk — I’d never needed milk — but I was sure that if I did, she’d have some … somewhere. Perhaps even a cow. Trixie had all kinds of animals in her yard. Animals I was sure she wasn’t supposed to have. I didn’t complain though. She was good to me, especially when I was super stressed over Dean and the kids. When that happened, she’d pass me cigarettes through the hole in the fence. Hm … speaking of stress-smokes, I haven’t needed one for weeks.
“Tash?”
“Yo,” I said, answering Alexis and snapping out of my thoughts and now building cigarette-craving.
Trixie smiled, so I gave her the universal hand signal for a cigarette by making a V with my fingers and pressing them to my lips. She tilted her head and giggled to herself, as if privy to a joke that I wasn’t.
“So what did you ring me for?”
“Oh, sorry. I need a confidence boost for to
night. I’m a little nervous about Dean’s plans. He’s been a bit ‘adventurous’ in the sack lately. Don’t get me wrong. I love his newfound spontaneity. I just have no idea what I’m in for and if I’ll like it.”
“Relax. If you don’t like it, just say so.”
“I don’t want to offend or scare away this new side of him. I’m enjoying what we’ve discovered.”
“You won’t if you talk it out. Sheesh, why’s it so hard for couples to talk about sex? About what they want, what they don’t want, what they like and what they hate. Sex is about words and communication just as much as it’s about bodies and copulation.”
“Ugh! You’re right.”
“I’m always ri—”
“Shut up. Just shut up. Shut up,” I sang.
The cheeky bitch hung up on me, and I just was about to call her back when Trixiebell approached my car and hand-swiped me a smoke with the grace of a drug dealer.
“I take it you wanted one of these and not a lesbian munch fest?”
I choked. “What?”
“Your signal. I swear I saw tongue.” She raised her fingers to her lips and spread them in a V then poked her tongue in between and waggled her eyebrows.
“TRIXIE!” I exclaimed and cracked up laughing.
“I might be a good neighbour, Tashster, but I’m not that good.”
“Trix, you need a man. STAT.”
“Find me one, and I’ll have him. I’ll have all of him.” She snipped her shears with exaggeration and belly-laughed like an evil little minx.
Oh what fear I have for the man who tries to tame the bell of Trixie.
* * *
An hour later, and I’d smoked a cigarette to calm my nerves, drank some lemon juice, brushed my teeth, showered, made a quick stir-fry dinner, and was serving it up when Dean came through the front door.
Commitment Page 21
