The Scarlet Letter Society

by Mary McCarthy

  She put down her bowl and picked up a spoonful of strawberry Pop Rocks; there was a silver bowl of each flavor. “Have you tried the strawberry?” she asked.

  “Yes, and it is also delicious,” said Charles. “Which is a word that reminds me of you.”

  He took Eva in his arms and kissed her passionately, but she pushed him away playfully and filled her mouth with a spoonful of the strawberry Pop Rocks. Then, she kissed him back. She let some of the candy remain on her tongue as she licked his ear. He shuddered at the sound of the candy popping in his ear combined with the sensation of her tongue. He was already hard.

  Eva reached down and felt his rising arousal.

  “I think you like strawberry, too,” she said.

  His large, strong hands slid underneath her sweater, running gently up her sides. She sighed. His hands gently caressed the outside of her pale teal silk bra, and her nipples rose to greet his fingers. He unfastened her bra. He lifted her sweater gently over her head. Placing her firmly onto the pillow at the corner of the couch, he caressed her breasts, teasingly moving his hands down her waist to where he knew she wanted them.

  Her bra hit the floor as he picked up a spoonful watermelon Pop Rocks and took a mouthful. When his lips took in her breast, she arched her back and let out a tiny squeal. The sensation of the carbonated candy on her nipples was unprecedented. There was a slight grittiness to the texture of the small crystals as his tongue circled her nipples, and the popping from within his mouth felt amazing on her tender flesh.

  As he continued to incorporate Eva’s breasts into the dessert menu, he reached down between her legs. He was delighted to find that as usual, she wore no panties. When his right hand reached her, she was already wet for him. He hiked up her skirt for better access, teasing her with his agile thumb. She softly moaned, clawing at his shirt. She wanted him naked. She wanted him to fuck her more than she had wanted any other part of this meal.

  But he was taking his time. He was the one in charge of this course, and he would design its presentation. He continued sucking at her nipples and letting her feel his desire on the inside of her thigh. She pressed her inner thigh against his stiffness, running her hand on the outside of his pants and making him sigh out loud. He returned her hand to her side firmly. He unzipped her skirt and removed it so that she was fully naked, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she was currently without clothes in one of the busiest restaurants in New York City, where hundreds had dined that day and every day for more than a century.

  He grabbed the bowl of Tropical Punch Pop Rocks and looked down at her.

  “I’m ready for my dessert now,” he said. He slowly poured small spoonfuls of candy onto her belly and inner thighs. While she laughed, lazily circling her own nipple and licking the remaining candy from her sticky fingers, he poured the remainder into his own mouth. And as he lowered his head to lick her with his mouthful of popping candy, her hips rose to meet his fizzing tongue.

  She moaned, and was able to utter the words, “I think Tropical Punch is my new favorite flavor.”

  Zarina clambered into the shop early on the first Friday of the month. She swept up and straightened the place, picking up a few random Legos on the floor from yesterday’s kid visitors. She hooked up her iPhone to the speaker set and put on the 80s station on Pandora, but not too loud, just so it created a nice background vibe.

  As she swept, she thought about how Stanley had been so supportive of her busy life, between the graduate journalism class at the college and running the shop. He’d jokingly said, “I’m just worried that if you become too educated, you’ll reject my alternative lifestyle record shop immaturity.” She laughed and told him being a hipster was not an alternative lifestyle because it was far too underground to be that mainstream.

  She finished mixing the muffins and put them in the oven, so it would smell good when the women came in, and thought about how she hated feeling like she depended on a guy for anything. How do you make it work in relationships, she wondered, so that you need the person, and they know you need them so they don’t just go take off and hang out with someone else, but they don’t think you need them too much so that you’re needy?

  Forget saying “I love you.” Her generation knew better than that. Not just because we’re too spoiled and lazy to bother falling in love with someone other than ourselves, Zarina thought. Many of their generation’s parents had gotten divorced in dramatic and disastrous ways, and the younger crowd seemed to prefer to avoid marriage to stay away from those situations altogether.

  Zarina’s parents had just sort of always been happy together, she thought, as she absentmindedly started a second pot of coffee. Not head over heels in love, really openly, but they had a quiet sense of love about them that made their companionship completely natural. That’s what Zarina wanted. Call it love or don’t, thought Zarina. I just want someone to curl up on the couch and watch a horror movie with, or eat crabby Eggs Benedict and hash browns on a Sunday. Or even just sit next to each other while working on laptops, our legs touching just that little bit, just to say, you know, I’m glad you’re here.

  For now, that was Stanley for her. So she felt lucky.

  “Good morning, gorgeous!” said Maggie in that boisterous New England accent. She went over and hugged Zarina. “Good to see you. You know what? I’m going to try something new for a change. Give me an iced chai latte, please.”

  Maggie smiled at Zarina and thought about how she’d just made out with Z’s mother, Kate, the day before. She blushed, wondering how those paths were eventually going to cross and what would happen if they did. She didn’t want things to be awkward at Zoomdweebies, and she wasn’t really sure how things were going to go with Kate. Ah, the tangled webs.

  “Whoa, there, branching out are we?” Zarina said,. “Life’s too short not to try a new kind of coffee once in awhile, right?”

  “I agree,” said Maggie, with an odd half-grin.

  “That is absolutely true,” said Lisa as she walked in. “Good morning, Zarina. I’ll try an iced chai latte too.”

  “Well change certainly makes the world go ‘round,” said Zarina. “I certainly hope you’re going to at least try these pineapple coconut muffins I made for you.”

  “Oh, I bet those are low fat,” said Maggie, squinting and scrunching up her face.

  “Of course they are,” says Zarina. “I mean, pineapples and coconuts are fruits. It’s only when you ask for the muffin warmed up with butter melted all over it that it gets a tad more caloric.”

  “Well, why in the hell else would you eat the damn thing?” said Maggie.

  “Those sound amazing,” said Lisa. “I think I need to buy a dozen extra of those for my shop today—it will seem like I already made them. I have a ton of pie orders today, so if you don’t mind, that would be great. Of course I’ll give you credit. We can call them Z muffins.”

  “Perfect,” Zarina said. “Anytime you need some back up baked goods, let me know.”

  “That’s truly an amazing concept,” said Lisa. “I’ll absolutely take you up on it. So where’s Eva today?”

  “You won’t believe it. She’s not coming,” said Maggie. “She just texted me late last night. I didn’t get the message ‘til this morning. She stayed in New York.”

  “What? Was she supposed to come back last night?” asked Lisa.

  “Yeah, she always takes the same train back,” said Maggie. “And she didn’t give me any more details. I texted her this morning, but I haven’t heard back. It must be a work thing.”

  “Or a Charles thing,” said Lisa.

  Maggie’s eyes widened. “You think so? I’ve never known her once to change her plans for a man.”

  “You never know,” said Lisa. “A damn man can make you do things you don’t necessarily like to admit you wanted.”

  “Well isn’t that the damn truth?” said Maggie.

  Zarina walked over to deliver the warm buttered muffins and iced chai lattes to the brown leather cou
ch area where Maggie and Lisa were hunkered down.

  “Mind if I sit for a minute?” she asked.

  “Of course,” said Maggie.

  “You know you don’t even need to ask,” said Lisa.

  Zarina replied, “I know I’m not a member of the society. I always feel like maybe I should run out and cheat on Stan one night so I could feel more like I fit in.”

  “You know our group name is more for fun,” said Maggie. “The very word ‘society’ is so not us that it’s not even funny. It’s a lot more casual than that. We only picked the title because Eva and I were joking one day about the ‘Red Hat Society’ that the older women have and we said ‘we should have a red A society.’

  “But basically we’re just women who get together and talk about shit, and sometimes that shit is about sleeping around, and sometimes it’s not. Today, for example. Watch me change the subject so we’re not even talking about cheating and men. Today, I would like to talk about what goddamn thundercunts some women can be.”

  Lisa and Zarina laughed. “Thundercunts?” they both said at the same time.

  “Ah, yeah, it’s one of my old faves,” said Maggie. “If I find myself overusing it too much, I’ll hit ‘Cuntasaurus Rex’, which is Eva’s fave, though she’s never been much of a champion cusser like myself. To me, the old ‘thundercunt’ is a staple for a woman who has truly earned it.”

  “I’m always just afraid the c-word is so offensive to women,” said Lisa, blushing slightly. “I mean, I’m not a big cusser either.”

  “Nah, fuck that. Women can call the “c” card with other women when there are simply no other words to use. It’s not like I’m goddamn anti-feminist, and it’s also not my fault our shitty language doesn’t have enough words to cover some of these C-rexes.”

  “So who pissed you off?” Zarina asked.

  “There’s this bitch that comes into my shop,” said Maggie. “And she does nothing but complain. ‘Can you come down on the price of these shoes? Is there a stain on this 1960s skirt, because it should be marked down? Why are you only open ‘til 5 on Sundays?’ It’s always fucking something. Week after week she comes in, always negative. It makes me hate being in retail, which I normally don’t mind at all. And does she ever really spend any money? Of course not. She’s so rude to me, and miserable. I don’t even know why she comes in. She has a scowl on her face from the moment the door opens. And in her stupid blond bob and preppy Lily Pulitzer outfit, she doesn’t even wear the kind of clothes I sell! It’s like she sucks all the air out of the room. SHE, my friends, is a thundercunt.”

  “I hear you,” said Zarina. “Working in customer service can completely suck. There’s a woman whose coffee is never, ever right. She’s mean, always in a hurry, and never happy. I would say she would be on my ‘Thundercunt of the Month’ chalkboard if I had one in the shop, which maybe I should!”

  Lisa laughed. “How funny would that be? Like a Wanted poster, with a frowny photograph and name of the “T.C” of the month. I’ve been really lucky at the bakery. I have people bitch and moan, but no diehard thundercunts so far. But at home? In my subdivision? Oh my God, I think it’s the land of Thundercuntopia, and there would be some serious competition for Queen over there. Who has the best landscaping, who has the nicest “builder upgrades,” you name it. I actually had my pool membership revoked last summer because I planted tulips around a tree without getting permission from the landscaping committee.”

  “Yeah, if you’re on the landscaping committee of a homeowner’s association in a subdivision?” said Maggie. “You’re pretty much a guaranteed t-cunt by default. No question.”

  “And the women are so phony,” continued Lisa, obviously on a roll. “It’s like they’re judging you every second. The ones who seem nice and then you find out later talk about you behind your back—they’re the worst. I know they have some secrets of their own over there, too. But really, you want to say something about me? Say it to my face, you cowardly bitch!”

  Zarina laughed. “Lisa, I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse so much!”

  Lisa’s faced flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just can’t stand women who are fake. It’s like they pretend to have these perfect lives, and it’s all a façade. They’re really miserable, so they just make other people miserable, all while hosting the most beautiful party in the neighborhood. All while going to church and then also drinking tons of wine every day, of course.”

  “You don’t need to be sorry,” said Maggie. “Subdivision living leaves a lot to be desired, which is why most of us are townies. Sure, there are cliques in town, too, and believe you me, those bitches beat all—you think a homeowner’s association is bad, you should see the madness in a historic district commission. But at least in town there’s more of a blend of people, so you can avoid the t-cunts as much as possible.”

  “Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about cheating on Stan to have something to talk about at this meeting,” said Zarina.

  “Nah, sometimes it’s nice just to blow off some steam with some cool girls,” said Maggie.

  “That,” said Lisa, “is absofuckinglutely the truth!”

  And the three women laughed, savoring their coffee until it was time to return to the real world outside.

  September 2012

  “Am I wrong to hunger for the gentleness of your touch? Knowin’ you’ve got someone else at home who needs you just as much? If I can’t see you when I want to, I’ll see you when I can.”

  -If Loving You is Wrong, I Don’t Wanna be Right, Millie Jackson

  Monthly meeting of the Scarlet Letter Society.

  Zoomdweebies Café

  Friday, September 7, 2012

  5:30 a.m.

  Yes, we’re reading a damn book this month. It’s Wifey by Judy Blume. You remember Judy Blume, from Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret? Well, this was the slutty one after Forever and you weren’t allowed to read either one of them growing up, so we’re reading Wifey now. Pick up your copy from Zarina at Zoomdweebies ASAP.

  “The scarlet letter was her passport into regions where other women dared not tread.”

  -The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne

  Ron walked into her office with a raging boner. They had been sexting all morning, and he was horny as hell and couldn’t take it another minute. He thanked the gods of pleasure that her office had blinds, and that they were normally kept shut. He was especially thankful for the lock on the door, one of the perks of having her name on it.

  As he closed the door, he undid his tie. She looked up from her desk, above her dark teal cat-eye glasses, and smiled lazily.

  “Looks like someone is glad to see me this morning.”

  “I can’t stand it another minute,” said Ron. “If you’re going to be sending me pictures of your tits, this is what you should expect.” He glanced down at his bulging crotch, where she was already looking.

  She slowly unfastened the buttons of her mint green silk blouse. She wore a tight, short black skirt with a G-string underneath.

  Removing her blouse revealed a skin-toned seamless lace bra that also allowed Ron a preview of her rosy nipples. They were already hardening in anticipation of his touch. She placed the blouse over the edge of her cream leather office chair. She walked around to the front of her antique oak desk. She’d salvaged it from an auction for a ridiculous fifty dollars, and had learned in the past to be thankful for its sturdiness. She turned around to face away from Ron, who already had his hands on the sides of her ribcage as she swirled her hips and rubbed against him. He breathed out audibly. She cleared a few items from the desk and turned to face him. Removing her panties quickly, she placed her hands on the edge of the desk and hopped up. She already knew the angle was perfect.

  Ron grabbed the back of her head with his left hand while his right hand explored and teased her nipples. She lifted her chest to meet his touch, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His shirt was already on the floor from where
he dropped it on the way to her desk, but his tie remained loosely around his neck. As he stepped out of his pants, she grabbed the tie to pull him back to her, passionately kissing him and darting her tongue into his eager mouth.

  There wasn’t much time for foreplay in an office where they knew anyone could come to the door. The heat of the encounter left little need for foreplay anyway. She held the tie with her left hand, using her right hand to stroke him a few times. He moaned softly.

  “I want you,” he said.

  “Then take me,” she responded, spreading her legs. She still wore one of the Jimmy Choo black leather pumps she’d put on that morning; the other had hit the floor when she jumped onto her own desk.

  He thrust into her as she sighed, already wet from the sight of him walking through the door. She tightened her grip on the tie around his neck, twisting it tighter. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh that’s how it’s going to be?” he breathed.

  “If I had time, you know I’d use it to tie you up,” she said.

  “I’d love it,” he said. Sex between them was always a power play, and the exchange of that power was madly erotic to both of them. With his left hand around her ass, he used his right hand to grab her long, straight blonde hair and twist, then pull it firmly.

  They came together in the frenzy of heat that only forbidden sex can generate. He looked into her ice blue eyes.

  “That was amazing, Nicole,” he said.

  “It always is with us, Ron,” she said. “Why don’t we just get fucking married and call it a day?”

  She winked at him and smiled a cocky smile, and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. He found himself surprised at wishing that she was.

  “Well maybe we should just think about doing something fucking insane like that one day,” said Ron in what he hoped was the same are-we-kidding-or-not tone. He smiled at her as he got dressed. She walked around to the chair, put on her blouse as he put on his shirt, and they stared at each other while each buttoned buttons.