by Jack Fisher
“For a while, it was like an arms race,” she continued. “While my brothers fooled around with all these women, I tried to match their foolishness with men.”
“You always were pretty competitive,” Peter said.
“That’s a good trait to have for someone with a career in athletics. For sibling rivalries…not so much. My brothers didn’t encourage it, but they didn’t exactly discourage it, either. They didn’t see me as their sister, the slut. They saw me as their sister, the tough young woman who could hold her own against any man.”
“Including sex?”
“Especially sex,” Mary said. “Being tough didn’t just mean being an athlete. It meant never losing control of a situation. I guess after my mom died that we all needed to be a little tougher. I just had to go the extra mile. I think that might have been the first sign.”
“Yeah, but everybody overlooks that first one,” Peter said.
He made a valid point. Mary didn’t beat herself up too much for not seeing it then, but that didn’t make her choices back then any less egregious.
“You might be right, but I really pushed it,” Mary said with a sigh. “After high school, my brothers and I drifted apart. They went to college on athletic scholarships. I went to community college because I had different plans. They had to get their act together to pursue their goals, but I didn’t. I kept hooking up with random guys just as I always had—like I had something to prove.”
“I think you more than made your point,” commented Peter.
“Funny, my brothers told me the same thing. I must have shrugged it off because I didn’t stop. Then, my father died and things started to escalate.”
Her tone shifted and she tensed. It was the part of her story that Mary hadn’t shared with Sister Angela. If Peter hadn’t known her, she probably could’ve skipped this part and gotten away with it. However, he already knew parts of her story and it wouldn’t have conveyed the full impact if she skipped it.
It was another one of those ominous signs she’d overlooked, but this one was more egregious. She could blame her behavior on being a hormonal teenager only to a point. Being a competent adult meant Mary had fewer excuses.
“Was this the turning point for you?” Peter asked, before the silence got too awkward.
“No. Not entirely,” answered Mary. “It was devastating. Don’t get me wrong. Liver disease is not the way my dad wanted to go. I imagine he wanted to die driving a hot rod off the Grand Canyon while a bunch of cheerleaders in bikinis cheered him on. However, it happened, and it caught me and my brothers totally off-guard.”
“Yeah, death is pretty good at that.”
“And I didn’t respond as well as I could’ve. Mourning him was hard enough. The logistical issues though… Those tore my family apart.”
“And now I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Peter said. “I remember finding out your dad had died. If I’d have known how bad it was, I would’ve flown in and helped.”
“That’s sweet of you, Peter, but believe me, there’s nothing you could’ve done,” Mary said solemnly. “Even before the funeral, we argued over his inheritance. You see, the auto body shop that my dad spent his whole life building had been in trouble. I don’t know the specifics, but my dad had apparently hired some inept employees—and not just the kind who left a few bolts loose.”
“How inept did things get?”
“That, I don’t know. I just know that after he died, some chain store wanted to buy it. At the time, I thought ‘why not’? The money they offered was pretty good. I certainly needed it. The only problem was my brothers wanted to maintain the business. They thought selling it while our father’s body was still warm was just plain wrong. I thought keeping a failing business alive was worse.”
“I can see both sides. I can also see you being very stubborn about your position.”
“Then I don’t have to convince you that I drove a wedge between me and my brothers,” Mary said. “Hell, I’m pretty sure I burned every bridge I could possibly burn with them. I ended up negotiating behind their backs, striking a deal that was more on my terms and not theirs.”
“You’ve always been a good negotiator, Mary. Those terms must have been pretty good.”
“It didn’t matter how good they were. It didn’t matter that I got them more money than the initial offer. My brothers still got pissed, but they had no choice to sign off on it. We all walked away with a hefty lump sum. We were bitter, but richer. Then, the shop went out of business a few years later. So, in the end, I was vindicated.”
“I doubt that mattered to them,” Peter said.
“It didn’t,” affirmed Mary. “It just gave me a damn good excuse to get away from my family and out of Hartman County. I dropped out of community college, took my money and started a new life in Miami. I had no family support. I also had a lot of bitterness and angst to work through. And keep in mind, I was still a beautiful young woman with a great rack and a nice ass. I had a lot of opportunities for seeking comfort.”
She let Peter use his imagination to fill in the sordid details, to let more connections fall into place, the path that had led her back to Hartman County as a jaded sex addict to become a bit clearer. However, even his perverse imagination couldn’t comprehend just how bad it had gotten.
In recalling those turbulent times in her life, some old emotions welled up inside her. A hard lump formed in her throat, adding more strain to the painful recollection. Knowing it would get a lot worse before it got better, she kept going, hoping her emotions couldn’t keep up.
“Stop me if this sounds too familiar,” continued Mary. “I was a young, beautiful, horny woman in a town full of nightclubs, rich tourists and topless beaches. I was also emotionally wounded and looking to treat those wounds with every kind of indulgence. Then, I encountered plenty of equally beautiful, equally horny men willing to oblige me—not forgetting, mind you, that I was still in the mindset that I had to be tough in all things, including sex.”
“It’s familiar, but not too familiar,” Peter said.
“On top of that, I started a career that put me into contact with more beautiful people. I took that tainted inheritance money and build a gym right on South Beach. I built it up into one of the most successful gyms in the city, getting attention from a modeling agency in the process. That put me into contact with even more beautiful people, men and women alike.”
“Men and women?”
“Don’t pretend to be shocked. When you’ve got so many options, you tend to take a dip in the other side of the pool,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.
“Did I say I disapproved?” retorted Peter.
“Just don’t imagine anything too pornographic. It wasn’t like that…for the most part.”
“Then just how bad did it get? With all those opportunities, there had to be a point where you noticed.”
His insight was uncanny. Nobody who hadn’t gone through a similar experience would make that assumption. They were usually too busy imagining her various acts of sexual excess, which often derailed any attempts at having this sort of conversation with someone else. Mary didn’t doubt that some unpleasant images had crossed Peter’s mind, but he continued to listen. That made staying ahead of her emotions even more difficult.
“I want to say you’re pushing it, but when you’re right, damn it if you aren’t right,” Mary said.
“You can give me the PG-13 version if you want,” assured Peter.
“That still wouldn’t do it justice. You didn’t gloss over the details when you told me about your promiscuity, so why should I? I basically ran around Miami, screwing anything that looked like it could screw back. I’d fuck guys at my gym, I’d fuck them at clubs and I’d fuck them in restaurant bathrooms. I wasn’t passive about it, either. If I’d see someone I wanted to screw, I’d pursue them, tell them what I wanted and how I wanted to do it. Most of the time, they agreed. If they didn’t, I’d tempt them. I used every bit of leverage I had to make sure I got
something out of it.”
“Sounds like you were…aggressive,” commented Peter.
“I was. Again, I didn’t think about it at the time. It was just how I did things. Even after the pain of my father’s death had passed, I kept doing it. That means I didn’t let myself fall in love. I didn’t let myself get too emotionally attached. I just stayed focused, riding the success of my gym and my modeling career and anyone I wanted to fuck along the way.”
“In other words, you tried to do what I did. It was just easier for you.”
“With boobs like mine? Yeah, it probably was,” admitted Mary. “There was nothing that could stop me—nothing that could convince me I had a problem. I didn’t think I was hurting myself or anyone else. I never even contemplated that it could. That all changed when…”
She had to stop. Her emotions had finally caught up with her. Despite her best efforts, Mary couldn’t escape them. The growing lump in her throat became a stabbing pain. All the burdens she’d carried suddenly felt much heavier. She tried to steady her breathing to stop herself from crying, but it was no use.
Peter reached over to comfort her, but Mary didn’t accept it. She just stared down at the ground, her lips quivering and her eyes welling up with tears. She wiped them away, smearing her makeup and undermining the beauty that had once enticed so many. It was somewhat fitting, her emotions making her feel ugly. Fate, it seemed, wouldn’t let her forget the pain she’d caused herself and others.
“It’s okay, Mary. We can stop for a while if you want,” assured Peter.
“No. I need to tell you this. I need to tell you for the same reason you told me,” Mary said, still fighting her tears.
“You don’t have to if you’re not ready. If you don’t think I’ll understand—”
“That’s just it, Peter,” she said, stopping him in mid-sentence. “You probably understand better than anyone on this planet right now. I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this. Not my friends, not my brothers, not Sister Angela— anybody!”
“Why? What is it?” he asked intently.
She still struggled to get it out. For a brief moment, Mary contemplated getting up and walking away. This was much harder than she’d thought. However, she didn’t dare back down. She was tougher than this. Sexual addiction hadn’t changed that. Besides, Peter deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know what had led her to this moment.
“Because I did the same thing you did,” she answered. “I killed somebody.”
Chapter Twelve
#xa0;
Mary prepared herself for any number of reactions. After what she’d just told Peter, there weren’t many that would surprise her. He might be shocked. He might be horrified. He might even burst out laughing over the irony after having told her the exact same thing a few weeks ago. Anything would’ve been appropriate at this point. However, nothing could’ve prepared her for the cold silence that followed.
After saying those fateful words, every bit of ambient noise around seemed muted. Mary could no longer hear the wind blowing through the trees, the birds chirping or the people working in the closed waterpark across the street. It was as if the entire world had become frozen, leaving only her and Peter to confront this moment.
Agonizing over every second of silence, Mary felt ready to burst. She began to question whether she had the strength to get through it all.
Finally, Peter said something. “Damn,” was all that came out.
It wasn’t much, but it kept Mary from going over the edge. Still staring at the ground, she scoffed at him.
“Really? That’s all you have to say?” Mary said, bemused by his response. “Then again, maybe that’s the best I can hope for.”
“No, it’s not. I’m sorry if that sounded…off,” stammered Peter.
“Don’t be. It’s not like there’s a right way to react. Hell, I proved that when you told me the same thing.”
“Yeah, I don’t disagree. I’m just…trying to wrap my head around this so I can respond in a way that won’t piss you off.”
“Believe me, I’d rather be pissed right now,” Mary said.
“And since I can’t lie worth a damn, I guess we’re past that point. To be honest, I’m really curious now. This puts your reaction to my confession in a whole new context, but I don’t want to assume too much. I’ll just expect there were…circumstances.”
She still tried to get mad at him, but his sincere, wanting gaze of his was on her. She hadn’t been able to resist it when they had been kids. She had no hope of avoiding it now.
Frustration helped temper her emotions. Mary adjusted herself, attempting to salvage what remained of her strength. She turned back to face Peter, still clearly surprised by her admission. That might change once she told him the painful details.
“You know, sometimes I hate how understanding you are, Peter,” Mary said.
“You’re not the first beautiful woman to tell me that,” he said with a half-grin.
“I’m sure that got you laid almost as much as your washboard abs and toned biceps. But as much as I hate it at times, I need that understanding right now.”
“Does that mean the circumstances were similar or just the results?” Peter asked.
“I’m not sure. To be honest, I’ve tried very hard not to think about those circumstances for the past year. Needless to say, I failed miserably. You might pick up on some similarities, but keep in mind that my approach to sex was different from yours. You didn’t just rely on your looks. You used charm, understanding and dedication to get women out of their panties and into your bed. Aside from looks, I took a more direct approach. I saw a guy I wanted to fuck, I seduced him and I made sure I enjoyed the hell out of it.”
“Not sure that approach would’ve worked for me. Hell, it probably would’ve gotten me arrested.”
“I guess we can chalk that up to fucked-up double standards.” Mary shrugged. “A girl who’s aggressive at getting guys into bed is just a slut. A guy who’s just as aggressive is a restraining order waiting to happen. For a beautiful woman who also happened to be an aspiring fitness model? Well, let’s just say I had a lot more leeway.”
“I’m sure you did, but how does that lead you to killing someone?” Peter asked.
“It’s actually not that hard when you’re in the process of becoming a full-blown sex addict. In my case, I accelerated that process. I wasn’t just fooling around and enjoying my youth. I was feeding an actual need. I didn’t just restrict it to clubs or gym rats, either. In the same way I push myself when I work out, I pushed myself in the variety of men I seduced.”
“I’m not entirely sure what that entails, but I can make a few educated guesses.”
“And they’d only be half-right, at best,” Mary said.
It might have been a good idea to skip those details. They’d come from the most reckless, depraved part of her life. She wasn’t proud of those times. It still pained her to dwell on them. However, Peter had been honest and specific in admitting the extent of his depravity. At the very least, she had to return the favor.
“As my needs became a full-blown addiction, things escalated pretty quickly,” Mary said. “To exercise my growing libido, I made it more challenging on myself. I fucked police officers, aspiring politicians, pastors and even a gym teacher who worked at a local elementary school.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” commented Peter.
“Oh, yeah? I once blew the pizza guy in exchange for extra toppings,” added Mary.
“Okay, I take it back. It does sound bad.”
“And, of course, I didn’t see it as a problem. I was way past giving a damn. I didn’t care who these men were—or women, in some cases. I didn’t care if they were married, in love or had kids. I didn’t care if they had any genuine feelings for me, either. I just went after them and got what I wanted. For a while, I was able to handle it. But eventually—as you found out, as well—it does catch up to you. Sometimes, it just has to happen in the worst po
ssible way.”
“You’re right. Sometimes that’s what it takes,” Peter said. “So, what was his name?”
There was that understanding again. He surmised that this moment involved a name that had been permanently etched in her mind, just as Gabriel Anderson had been etched in his. He wasn’t entirely wrong, so she didn’t bother getting upset. In fact, he’d made it easier.
There were still many painful emotions burning inside her, but some of those emotions faded under Peter’s gaze. He gave no harsh judgments or criticisms. He remained serious and concerned as a friend, not just as someone taking in the depravity of a self-professed sex addict. For Mary, who hadn’t shared the full story with anybody before now, he couldn’t have carried himself any better. Now, she had to do the same.
“The man’s full name was Mark Steven Howard,” Mary said. “He’d moved to South Florida as a teenager. He had good parents, went to a top school and made a decent living as an up-and-coming lawyer. He also married his high school sweetheart, was active in his church and had a couple of adorable kids. Their names are David and Gwen.”
“Sounds like you’ve done your research on this guy. I’m not sure that’s healthy,” Peter said.
“It isn’t. Believe me, I know it isn’t. But before I knew anything about this man’s life, he was just another man I’d slept with,” Mary said. “I didn’t really see it as that big a challenge. I had a few parking tickets on my record. Someone at the gym gave me his card, saying he could get them wiped clean. I met with him, talked to him and decided I wanted to have sex with him.”
“There had to be signs, though. You wouldn’t remember it this clearly if there weren’t.”
“You’d be right, and I still want to punch myself for not seeing them. Mark wasn’t as…eager to cheat on his wife as most men. He made it clear that he really loved her. I made it clear that I didn’t want to change that. I just wanted sex. I didn’t stop and think that maybe seducing a happily married man was a bad idea. I just remembered leaning over his desk, showing a little extra cleavage and making it clear to him what I wanted.”
