Commitment

by Golland, K. M.

  “I can expl—”

  “That’s so gross. It’s Bryce’s pussy in a can.” I threw it on the floor at my feet then pulled my legs up to my chest. “It’s on my hands. Help! Quick! Pull over. I need to jump in the ocean and purge the ‘hell no’ from my body.”

  He nodded his head rapidly and pulled into a roadside beach entrance stop.

  I got out.

  I found a tap.

  I washed it all away.

  “Ew. I touched boss-man’s vagina can. I’m scarred for life. Why? Why on earth would he have that thing? Isn’t Lexi’s vagina a good enough vagina for him?”

  Dean just stood there, leaning against Eleanor with his head in his hands.

  “I’m contaminated and you don’t care.”

  “You’re not contaminated, love. The pussy in a can isn’t Bryce’s, it’s mine.”

  I stopped shaking my hands like a crazy jazz dancer and froze. “It’s yours?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?” I glanced down at my tunnel of Tash. “What’s wrong with my vagina?”

  “Nothing. Come here.”

  I trudged over to him.

  “I bought it a while ago … under duress.”

  “So you don’t use it?”

  “No. I was going to throw it away.” He smoothed my hair on both sides of my face, poking it behind my ears. It had grown so much over the past few weeks and was now sitting on my shoulders. “Look … last year, when you and I weren’t ‘on the same page’, when we weren’t communicating like we do now, I may have considered using it. I don’t need to now. I don’t want to. I have you. You’re all I’ll ever want and need, inside and out of the bedroom.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, hugging his body to mine. “You’re all I’ll ever want and need, inside and out of the bedroom, too.”

  And that was the truth. I’d learned so much in recent times about want, need, lust, and desire. About marriage and what was expected as opposed to what we made of it.

  Marriage wasn’t a chore. It wasn’t a contract you entered with gold bands, flowers, suits and dresses, nor was it everyone’s expectation of you or promises you thought obligated to make when you had no fucking idea what it meant to make them.

  It wasn’t any of that.

  It was simply working in unison while moving in varying directions. Sacrifice. Compromise. Respect. It was handing your partner a towel when they got out of the shower while you were brushing your teeth. It was smelling their godawful morning breath and just dealing with it. It was pressing your cold feet against them in bed because they were warmer. It was knowing what TV shows to watch on what days and just switching them on, and it was putting the toilet seat down — or up — and shutting the fuck up about it.

  It was loving each other on a level that no one else could, and it was striving to increase that level at every chance that you got. Marriage was wading the ups and downs, fixing the bad, and celebrating the good.

  Marriage was commitment.

  Epilogue

  Fourteen years. That’s how long Dean and I have been married. Fourteen years of ups, downs, forwards, backwards, haircuts, donuts, whirlywhirls and somersaults. Whatever the obstacle we’d faced during that time, we’d nailed it. And not just nailed it; we’d MacGyvered the arse out of it.

  Our fourteenth year had been one of our most testing, but it had also been one of our most enlightening. We’d changed so much, grown so much, and learned a freakin’ shitload. We’d made mistakes, progress, fucked up and made up. But most of all, we’d rediscovered one another.

  Opening the front door to my home, the expectant smile on my face instantly morphed into something similar to a cat’s puckered arsehole.

  “Happy anniversary,” Lexi sang, cheerily. For the love of best friends who wished to die a horrible death.

  “Why?” I asked, shaking my head and pointing to the anniversary balloon she was holding all smug-like. “Why do you hate me so much?”

  “I don’t hate you, silly,” she dismissed, taking a step forward. “I don’t hate anyone.”

  I pointed to the floating foil piece of fuckery. “You’re not coming in with that.”

  “Sure I am.” Her overly pleasant smile remained.

  “Nope. Sorry.”

  “Honey, I did warn you about bringing a—”

  “Shut it, Clark,” she said to boss-man Bryce. “You also warned me against Ronald McDonald. Clearly, both you and Tash have issues with fun childhood icons.”

  “And, clearly, you’re a mega pain in the butt. A butt-pain that is not entering my house with that evil thing. Lose it or … lose. Your call.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll tie it right here.”

  Lexi twirled the string of the balloon around the handle of my security screen door, the heart-shaped silver and pink balloon flapping in the breeze, and prompting me to step back further inside my house.

  “Come in. Now. Quickly.” I ushered them into my entryway, scruffing Nate, Charlotte, and Brayden on the head as they walked past me before I closed the front door. “Go ahead. Go straight through, everyone is out back by the pool.”

  Alexis stopped and handed me a Tupperware container as the others continued outside. It warmed my fingers upon contact. “Here you go,” she said, quickly kissing my cheek. “I baked.”

  “You baked?”

  “Yes! Why do you not believe I bake?”

  “Because you don’t.”

  I popped the lid and peeked inside, the waft of steamy chocolate hitting my nose. “Wow! You did bake.” Surprised, I peeled the lid back to find a rather sad looking brown blob. “But we may need a lot of cream.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?” She leaned forward and spotted the fallen apart mess inside the container. “Oh. That’s not what it looked like when I took it out of the oven.”

  “I’m sure it tastes lovely,” I reassured her with a not so reassuring pat on the back.

  She glared at my minuscule mockery. “It will. The batter was the best I’ve tasted.”

  “You’re supposed to grow out of that, you know?”

  “What? Eating cake batter?” Lexi’s eyebrows elevated profusely. “Who are you? And what horrible birthday crime was committed for you to be so opposed to balloons and cake batter?”

  I paused as I placed the container down on the bench. “It wasn’t a horrible crime,” I said, quietly.

  “So there is a reason?”

  I shrugged. “Kinda.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Well, when I was eight, Mum, Dad, and I went to pick up a big bunch of balloons for my brother’s birthday. There was so many of them. Like they had the ability to reproduce when you looked away—”

  “Balloons can’t do that, hon,” Lex said, interrupting me.

  “I know that. It was just how I felt at the time. Anyway, there was way too many to fit in the boot of our car, so Mum and Dad crammed them into the back with me.” I shuddered at the memory and performed an uncontrollable spaghetti dance. “They were all over me, pressing into my face, my arms, my legs, and making my hair all static and sticky. They wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I COULDN’T BREATHE!”

  Her hand touched my shoulders. “It’s okay. They’re gone. They can never assault you again, the perverts.”

  “Ha ha! You’re so funny.”

  “I’m sorry,” she laughed, pulling me close and hugging me tight. “It’s funny but it’s not.”

  “No it’s not funny. AT ALL!”

  “I want to cure you of this. I’m gonna make it a life goal.”

  I shrugged free. “Noooo. You really shouldn’t. I’ll be fine.”

  “Leave it with me,” she said, giving my back another pat of mockery. “So, is Carly here yet? I need to talk to her about my hen’s night. You too, for that matter.”

  I pulled an ‘eek’ face — clenched teeth, strained neck, wide eyes. “Not long now till the big daaaaaay.”

  “I know!” sh
e squealed, the most genuine, radiant smile spreading across her face. “I feel like it has taken forever. I’m so ready to become Mrs Clark.”

  “It kind of has taken forever, Lex. You’ve been engaged for two years.”

  She stared out the window. “Tell me about it.”

  I followed her line of sight, spying Bryce. He was holding Brayden, who was wiggling like a little maniac in his arms, as he shook Dean’s hand.

  “You’ve only got yourself to blame though, Missy. It was your idea to wait for Brayden to be able to walk down the isle with you, remember?” I nodded toward the wiggly terror. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”

  She turned and rolled her eyes at me. “I know it’s my fault. I just didn’t want to rush this, you know? Everything else that Bryce and I have experienced together has been a whirlwind. I didn’t want our wedding to be the same.”

  Placing my hands on her shoulders, I held her stare. “For what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. Secondly, sometimes whirlwinds are the best type of wind.”

  “What’s the best type of wind,” Dean asked, interrupting us as he entered the kitchen. “A whirlwind? Naaaa.” He shook his head then paused. “Mind you, a whirlwind helps shake it all out.”

  Dean stopped behind me, kissed my neck, and then smacked my arse. Hard. I shrieked, both stunned by his statement together with the after effects of the sting buzzing my buttcheek. “What are you talking about?”

  “A whirlwind.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a tray of sausages. “It’s when you drop your guts and swirl it around.” To my utter horrification, my disgusting husband performed a hula-hoop style hip rotation.

  Alexis laughed. “Ew. I hope you didn’t just really do one.”

  “Do what?” Carly asked, as she entered the kitchen with an empty wine glass, which she passed to me as if to say fill her up.

  “A whirlwind,” I uttered under my breath.

  “Really? Did he just go down on you? Is that why you disappeared for a bit?” What the freakin’ donuts? And thank Christ all the children are outside right now.

  “No!” I took the glass from her. “Unlike you and Derek, we know there’s a time and place for that. And hang on a second, why would you even ask such a thing?”

  She shrugged and looked from me to Dean to Lexi, as if to wait for us all to know what the fuck she was on about. “Whirlwind?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s when he licks your clit, yeah? In continuous circles, yeah?”

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the air and turning for the backdoor. “I’ll be outside … with the grown-ups.”

  * * *

  As it would appear, there weren’t any proper grown-ups outside either. Not if you included, boss-man — who came close — Derek, a handful of children, and … Rob, who was all of a sudden walking in my direction with a look so cheesy it would make a slice of cheddar jealous. Shit! Mayday. Mayday.

  Before I could army roll off the sun lounge I was lying on, he sat down beside me. “Hot wife of Deano, I have a question for you.”

  I slid my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose and was near blinded by his shiny head. “Hello, Rob. What can I do for you?”

  The idiot playfully waggled his eyebrows.

  “Don’t waggle the only bits of hair you own at my wife,” Dean warned, as he stepped up beside me, lifted my legs, and draped them over his lap after taking a seat on the end of the lounge.

  “What?” Rob asked, defensively. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong?”

  I was about to protest that statement when Dean gently trailed his hand up and down my shin, the soft touch of his fingers a soothing distraction.

  I smiled.

  He smiled in return.

  “I don’t mind a bit of voyeurism.”

  Both our smiles vanished and we directed our attention back to Rob. “You had a question?” I asked.

  “Yes, yes I do.” He rubbed his hands together greedily. “Where is this feisty neighbour of yours? Apparently we are to meet and then fornicate.”

  I dry-retched and then dry-retched some more. “Dean! Quick! Pass me my drink. I think there is real spew in my mouth.”

  He laughed and handed me my glass of wine, which was on the ground, then resumed his warm, comforting leg rub. “Trixiebell hasn’t arrived yet. Trust me, you’ll know when she has.”

  “She better. I haven’t had a—”

  “La laaaa laaa,” I sang, choking on the sip I’d just taken and deliberately cutting off whatever the hell Rob was about to reveal. “So, how’s Hillary coping working for you?”

  “Better than when she worked for this knob.”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “She hates you. Admit it.”

  “She hates me, huh? Then why did she ask to work for me?”

  “She didn’t. Val wanted a change from reception but didn’t want to work for you. Hillary took a pay increase to swap.”

  “Bullshit. You’re full of it.”

  Truth of the matter was, Dean decided they shouldn’t work together directly, so suggested Hill work for Rob or he’d have to let her go, which he didn’t want to do.

  Rob tipped back his beer and winced as he swallowed, as if he didn’t like the taste. I was just about to suggest he go get a new, fresh, cold one, when a fluoro blue translucent sun-visor cap appeared at the fence separating our house from Trixie’s. Intrigued, because she was supposed to be joining us, I patted Dean’s hand and began to lift my legs from his lap when Trixie hoisted herself up on the fence.

  “Shit! What is she doing?”

  “Who? What?” Dean asked, surprised as I scrambled to stand.

  “Trix!” I pointed in her direction. “I think she’s gonna climb the fence.”

  She waved, losing her balance for a second before steadying herself, swinging her leg over followed by the other one, and then gently eased herself down to the side — her shorts riding up her arse during the process.

  “Wow! What a woman.”

  Mouths agape, Dean and I glanced down at Rob who was smiling all the cheesiness around the beer bottle dangling from his lip. I didn’t know whether to smile, cringe, dive into the pool, or make a break for the house. I mean, I wasn’t opposed to cheese, but Rob cheese? No. Just … no.

  Trixie landed with a small thud and brushed herself down before opening the zipper on her bumbag and pulling out a West Coast Cooler. She gave it a quick assessment and then kissed it appreciatively before unscrewing the lid.

  “Did she just kiss the tip?” Rob asked, his voice dream-like.

  “Oh my God!” I gave my husband a boggle-eyed ‘what the fuck’. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  Dean burst into laughter and nodded then shoved Rob’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  Rob adjusted his camo-print boardshorts. “I’ve been ready since five o’clock this morning.” Again, oh my God!

  Trix strutted past the pool, tipping her bottle in Derek’s direction and winked. “Hey, hotstuff.”

  “Heyyyyyyyy, Spiderwoman,” he replied, mimicking the bottle tip, his tone unsure. He returned his attention back to Bryce and Derek and mouthed, “Who is that?”

  They both shrugged.

  “Hi, Trixie!” Thomas shouted, waving from the pool.

  She waved, wedged her bottle in her mouth, and opened the zipper of her bumbag.

  Rob groaned. “I bet she can deep-throat.”

  “Rob!” I whacked him. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah! Look how far that thing goes in.”

  I blinked all the blinks and shook my head. “I have nothing. Not. One. Thing.”

  Dean’s hands slid around my waist, his lips caressing my ears. “Relax. She’ll eat him alive. Just watch. And, strangely enough, he’ll love it.”

  Trixie reached into her bumbag and pulled out one of Thomas’s tennis balls. “Here, you lost your ball over my fence.” She tossed it toward him

  “I’d like to lose my balls over her fence,” Rob mu
rmured as she stepped under the sunshade covering the four sun lounges lined up on the pool deck. He shot to his feet. “Hi. I’m Rob. Nice entry, by the way.”

  She snorted. “Ha! I’ve said that a few times before.” Oh my God! Trixie!

  Rob chuckled awkwardly. “Maybe you’ll say it again real soon.”

  Silence ensued. Weird silence. And I wasn’t sure whether to break it or go with it and hope someone else broke it.

  “Maybe I will,” she answered, teasing the bottle head in and out of her mouth.

  “Okay. That’s me done.” I pointed to them both simultaneously. “Rob, this is Trixie. Trixie, this is Rob. Have fun.”

  Fleeing the scene, I was halted when Dean secured my hand and pulled me toward him. “Would you like a nice entry as well, love?” he murmured into my ear.

  The warmth of his breath and the naughty nature of his question sent a shot of pleasure to my … entry. I all but squirmed then spun around and faced him, lowering my voice to the same level as his. “You know I do.”

  “Now?”

  There was a subtle knock of his erection on my hip. “Oh, you naughty man.” I giggled.

  So did he.

  As I stared into my husband’s chocolate brown eyes, my hands draped over his shoulders, his fingers pressed into my hips, a memory of the last time I was standing here surrounded by my family and friends, flickered across my mind. Back then, I’d been asking questions of myself, my life, my marriage, and my ability to love with lust. I’d been confused, uncertain, curious … and a little lost.

  Back then, I’d been a mess in preparation for the biggest clean up of my life.

  But now, as I smiled at the man I loved today, tomorrow, yesterday and everyday, I know longer doubted our connection or his commitment. I no longer feared we’d lost our way, because we hadn’t. We’d just sidestepped and, in turn, sparked intrigue.

  We’d found our sexy.

  The End

  Turn over for a sneak peek at Connection (Temptation #6), Will and Libby’s story.