Her Choice, Always (A “Her Choice” Story)

by Megan McCoy

  And then he realized—he knew exactly what was going on with her. His fault. He’d messed up badly this week. He’d been distant and just couldn’t bring himself to be himself. Now what?

  Now he’d go home and deal with things. He needed and wanted his life back, and he needed and wanted to be with Holly right now.

  Who cared what anyone else in the world thought? They’d been happy until he started getting all cerebral, or stupid, or worried about Other People. Was he willing to give up his wonderful, loving, marriage so Meredith wouldn’t act like a recently kicked puppy around him?

  No.

  The simple, all-encompassing answer that was only just now slapping him in the face was a resounding no. He would not give up his life, his wife.

  He would, however, take Meredith out to lunch one day next week and talk to her. It was the very least he could do. He’d somehow figure out how to explain their lifestyle to her. He just bet Holly still had some of those articles she was always reading to him, about Taken in Hand, and Domestic Discipline, and whatever the hell it was that made her bubble delightedly.

  Personally, he preferred a good porn video, but whatever floated her boat was fine with him. He’d even pretend to listen to her read articles about other men paddling their wives, if it made her happy.

  Right now, though, he knew he wasn’t making her happy, and she hadn’t bubbled in days, but that was going to change and going to change in the next hour.

  “Lisa, can you move the rest of today’s appointments for me? I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. If you and Brent want to go home early, you can leave when you’re done. Have a good weekend. Oh, and thanks for putting up with me this week. See you Monday,” he told his assistant as he strode out the door.

  Although he wanted to be home and be home right now, he drove carefully, not wanting to over react. She was probably sitting in the corner sobbing or something. She wasn’t in any crisis, other than emotional. They would have all weekend together. He would apologize for being an ass. They would spend time together and reconnect.

  What the hell had he been thinking? He knew she’d been miserable, and had been all week, so why was he acting like he didn’t? Stupid male pride? Was that all it was? Well, that was plenty.

  Now that a little time had passed, and he could look at things logically, he knew he wasn’t an abuser. He knew the life he and Holly had together suited them both. What the hell had he been thinking?

  For the first time in a week, he felt better, and ready to get back to life. He touched the accelerator up just a touch. He didn’t want to be pulled over, but he wanted home, to the best wife a man could have.

  It better not be too late.

  * * * * *

  She wasn’t disappointed, Holly told herself. Well, a little. She thought maybe he’d come screeching up, slam on the brakes. Make some dark skid marks on the road because he was all panicked and worried about what she needed, and why she didn’t answer her phone. She knew he’d call after he got the text. That was why she’d shut her phone off, and laid it down… somewhere. She’d find it. Eventually. It didn’t have legs, it wouldn’t walk away.

  He just drove in. Parked. Got out of his car and walked up the driveway. Like he was coming home from work on a usual day. She squinted into the sun, trying to see if he was pissed, or worried, or sad, or anything.

  She didn’t move, but sort of regretted she hadn’t thought to bring him a drink. Bad wifey! Oh well. Wasn’t as if they hadn’t swapped spit a hundred thousand times. “Drink?” she offered.

  He took it from her, took a sip, and then settled in on the step beside her, as if it were an ordinary afternoon. He put the drink down next to the pansies blooming in a cheerful pot. Someone should water those, she thought, leaning over and poking a finger in the warm dirt.

  “What’s going on, Holly? Guess you didn’t go to work today?”

  “See how smart you are,” she agreed. “I did not. I stayed at home. Do you know why I stayed at home, Eric?”

  “I’d like you to tell me,” he said. “And why you called me home.”

  “Good! I will do both!” she said, reaching for her drink. He blocked her easily and turned her to look at him.

  “What, Holly, just tell me what’s going on,” he said in the old Eric commanding tone she loved.

  “Are you leaving me?” Damn vodka. Made her voice crack and her words come out not how she wanted. She wanted to say, ‘Who the hell are you talking to? Why are you not talking to me? I miss you.’ But no. It came out whiney and pathetic. She was a very sad and sorry person.

  “Leaving you? Why would you think I was leaving? That’s asinine.”

  “Oh, so I’m asinine? My husband doesn’t touch me, or talk to me for a week plus,” she paused for emphasis, “Plus he… you… talks to some woman every night on the phone. Are you leaving me for her?” She didn’t want to cry. She wanted to be mad. Upset. Righteous. Damn vodka. She reached for it again, but he, again, easily blocked her.

  To her utter astonishment, he laughed.

  He laughed.

  She wanted to punch him in the stomach, but since she wasn’t a hitting kind of person, she didn’t. “Why is this amusing? Can you not tell I’m upset?” she said as carefully as her vodka-thickened tongue would allow.

  “I’m not leaving you.” He turned her body, and lifted her chin so she would look in his eyes. “I am not ever, ever leaving you. You are stuck with me forever, do you understand?”

  “I guess,” she said, not convinced. “So you just talk to other women, and don’t touch me? But we are all happily ever after?”

  “Other women? What the hell are you talking about?” He seemed genuinely startled but she knew what she heard and that she couldn’t trust him.

  “Yes, other women. Mainly the one you are talking to every night, in secret in your office, out of my hearing and out of my sight. You know you are lying and sneaking around.” She all but spat out the words. “Don’t act like you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”

  Eric laughed again. The first honest emotion she’d heard from him all week and her belly went all weak and tingly. Well, other parts went tingly too. “Other women. Wait till I tell her.”

  “Tell who what?” Now she was just mad. Finally. Took her long enough.

  “Elizabeth,” he said. “I’ve been talking to Elizabeth every night. Well, most nights.”

  His sister, Elizabeth? Oh, that kind of explained the tone, his caring tone, she guessed. “What’s going on and why didn’t you tell me?” She was still mad. He hadn’t talked her down yet.

  “I told her I wouldn’t tell, but you’re right, I should have told you. Her son is having a bad time at the public school and she and I are trying to get him transferred to a private school. It’s a lot of money that she doesn’t have. You know her husband didn’t leave hardly any insurance when he died, and she’s been working two jobs since. But, well, I’m helping her figure the tuition, and all the paperwork for a middle of the year transfer, which isn’t as easy as we thought it would be. We might be gifting her some money, too…” His voice trailed off as she reached over and hugged him.

  “I would never have minded gifting her some money. Why didn’t you tell me?” She demanded. Still mad. Not as much as before, but why was she out of the loop? Why hadn’t he told her, or consulted her, or talked to her? No, there was no excuse for that.

  “She asked me not to say anything till he got in, if he got in. If he didn’t, she didn’t want to be embarrassed about the entire thing or having all the family know her business. I know it’s silly, but I promised her. But why didn’t you say anything to me when you thought I was talking to another woman? If I thought you were cheating on me, I’d be right in your face and in your business,” he said, in a way that made her smile. He meant that. She liked that about him.

  “The first time I heard you was right before we went to meet Ethan and Meredith for brunch. I was going to talk to you after but then t
hat entire… thing happened and I’ve not been able to talk to you since, and I need another drink.”

  “I don’t think you do,” he said, but handed her the glass she’d brought out. After he sucked half of it down.

  “If I lied to you by omission, which is what you did, I’d be standing in the corner waiting to get paddled,” she told him.

  He laughed again, and said, “Hardly seems fair, does it? I’ll make it up to you, though, some other way. Or I’ll try.” He stopped and got silent for a very long minute while she waited.

  Wondering what was going on, and why he needed fortification she geared up to hear the worst. He was going to leave her. He wanted to just be vanilla. He was going to leave her because he thought she was a lush. He hated her for Meredith somehow finding out he was her head of household. What? What could it be? He needed to speak. Use his words. Tell her.

  “Tell me,” she finally gasped out. “Please? I can’t do or take this anymore. I didn’t go to work today because I hurt so much. I really, really can’t do this anymore.”

  “What can’t you do?” He asked, as if he honestly wanted to know the answer.

  She glared at him. “Seriously? You think I want a relationship where my husband doesn’t touch me, where he doesn’t play with me, or blister my ass when I need it? Do you think that is what I want?” Was she slurring her words? It didn’t matter. She didn’t care. She just needed him to know. “I came into this knowing what I was signing up for, what I was getting into. And you know what? I was happy about it. I wanted it. I might not like things in the moment, but I want what you dish out, I want you to be just what you were last week before you found out Meredith’s ex abused her. I’m not abused. I’m happy! Or I was.” She broke down and leaned into his arms.

  Sobbing, she continued, “This is my choice, my desire, always. And you took it away from me with no notice and no talk and I’m miserable and and…” she hiccupped and climbed on his lap, sobbing. “I hate this. Make it go away. Make things good again, please.”

  She looked into his tormented eyes, and begged, “Please?”

  Epilogue

  Two weeks later

  Holly fretted, walking, pacing, back and forth, around, up and down the stairs. She could not stop moving. Knowing what was coming, what was going to happen when he got home this later this afternoon.

  What she deserved. Yes. Craved even. But not really. Holly hit the corner post of the stairs as she marched up them. Why couldn’t anything be easy? Why did she have all these conflicted feelings? She walked a little faster, and listened for the garage door to go up. Not yet. She had a few minutes before she had to head to the office and the corner.

  Giggling, almost giddy as she walked up the stairs again, she realized, that, yeah, it wouldn’t be too much longer before she was bawling and squalling and begging over his lap, as he lit her butt on fire, but oh, man. Not having that was so much worse.

  Tonight… she was getting punished.

  Not for lying.

  Not for sneaking, but because he decided he wanted to do it, and she needed it. No other reason.

  He’d told her when he got home, he wanted to see her clad only in a shirt, bare butt in the corner and the chair in the middle of the room, with the hairbrush on it. Ready and waiting for him.

  Then he wanted her to ask for a spanking. Ask for it! Who in their right minds would ask for a spanking? Those suckers hurt.

  She sighed, realizing that would be exactly what would happen though. The chair and the wicked hairbrush were already in the middle of the room. She had a box of tissues sitting on his desk for the tears and sniffles afterwards.

  It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

  But. However. It was okay. Just fine. Needed. Desired.

  About freaking time he manned up and gave her what she needed.

  This life, this lifestyle, was her choice, always.

  The End

  Megan McCoy

  Megan McCoy lives in the heartland of America, surrounded by corn, soybean fields, country music and hot guys on tractors. At home, she’s raising kids, breeding Chinese Cresteds and poodles and training them all with a tender hand and heart, while saving her sternness for the alpha males in her books.

  Getting up at three in the morning to write leaves her time for a few hobbies - gardening, canning, bike riding, bread baking, taking in strays and seeking her own alpha male.

  Contact Megan on Twitter - @meganmccoybooks

  Facebook MeganMcCoybooks

  Email – MeganMccoybooks@hotmail.com

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