Swing

by Zachary Leeman

  His wife looked at him. “You're serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tom, I don't want you to do anything that you don't--”

  “I do,” Tom lied. He walked away. He walked upstairs into the bathroom with the cracked mirror, closed the door and locked it. He stared at the broken mirror and tried not to think. He really didn't want to think.

  For a woman not wanting to force her husband into anything, Hillary sure did move fast. She spent the rest of Sunday on the phone with friends laughing and chatting. Probably telling them the news. Tom stayed upstairs in their bedroom reading old books and trying not to think about what he had done.

  On Monday morning Hillary made Tom breakfast (which she never did) and told him that their first “date” was that night. Tom wanted to object. It seemed fast, but his wife was smiling. He couldn't remember the last time he had made her smile. So Tom went to work while his wife smiled and waved goodbye on their porch. Tom was nervous. He knew he didn't want to do this and yet he was doing it anyway. What kind of man was he?

  On his way to work he stopped in front of Penelope's house. He tried to look in the windows from his car to see if he could get one more glimpse of the beauty, but the shutters were closed and Tom had to get to school.

  V.

  School for Tom was more mundane than anything. He taught kids who didn't want to learn and practically slept through study halls. Luckily, the curriculum was so well planned that a monkey could do his job.

  Today, however, was not a day filled with just the endless yelling of kids and Tom attempting not to doze off. Today Tom's mind was somewhere else. He kept thinking back to the events of the last few days. He thought about breaking the mirror, about Penelope. But mainly he thought about his wife. He thought about when they had first met. How locked their eyes had been for days. He thought about how they used to make love, how they didn't anymore, and how she'd be doing it with some other jerk this very night.

  Tom told his students to take class time to read. They all pretended to and socialized. Their voices got louder and louder as time passed, and eventually their books weren't even on their desks. Tom didn't care. He was thinking about his morning. He was thinking about Hillary telling him with a smile that they already had a date lined up for that night. She didn't even tell him with whom.

  During one of Tom's study halls he pulled out his kindle and looked up swinging. He didn't know much about it and he wanted to know what exactly his wife was so attracted to. Tom browsed sites dedicated to letting married couples chat by video or on message boards and allowing them to write down their swinging experiences. Tom read a handful.

  They were revolting. He read about men watching their wives get fucked while they jerked it. He read about women taking three or four guys at once. He read about something called “dogging” and about bondage and swinging clubs. When the bell rang for lunch, Tom was pulled out of his stupor. He felt suffocated and dirty. Tom skipped the teacher's lounge and the cafeteria where the dance had been held on Friday and headed outside. He needed the sun and fresh air.

  Tom walked outside with his cafeteria-bought lunch and sat at a picnic table far away from the other students. He tried to forget the stories about men watching other guys take their wives from behind, stories about women getting spanked till their asses bled. Tom didn't particularly like any of it and he wanted to stop thinking about it.

  As he ate his egg salad sandwich that tasted like someone had wiped their ass with it, a familiar face walked over to the picnic table and sat across from him. It was Suzie Samms. She was one of the only students whose name Tom remembered. She was a sophomore and wasn't like the other students of Preston Hills High. She reminded Tom of himself when he was her age.

  Suzie was still coming into her own. She was tall and skinny and awkward when she walked. She had glasses and wiry, curly hair that sat atop her head all messy like. Tom figured she'd come into her own one day though. Girls like that usually did. She was also very bright and actually read the books Tom assigned.

  “Hey, Mr. Straum.” Her voice was young and innocent and sweet. It made Tom smile.

  “Suzie! To what do I owe the honor?”

  “Well, I had a question and you seemed pretty distracted in class today.”

  Tom smiled as he ate his sandwich. She really was a bright girl and innocent. Tom liked that about her. “Shoot, Suzie Samms.”

  “Do you think it's a waste of time to want to be a writer?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I told my Dad that I wanted to be a writer and he said it was a waste of time. He said no one makes money at it. He said I should be a doctor or a lawyer or something.”

  Tom put his sandwich down. He didn't often feel like a teacher, but he couldn't help but want to feel like one when he spoke to kids like young Suzie Samms.“Well, Suzie, if you want to write then I say you write. After all, if you don't do what you love then you can never truly love life. Besides, your goal should always be to make money at what you do. No matter what it is. Plenty of writers make money.”

  Tom saw Suzie smile and that made him happy. He thought she was adorable in the way she would never fully make eye contact. She was too nervous and shy. As Tom looked upon his student and doled out what little life advice he had, he wished Hillary and he had been able to have kids. He had often wished this. They had tried many times. It had been a long time ago, though. They had given up after a while. It had been heartbreaking for the both of them. But, it had been so long ago...

  “Did you want to be a teacher?”

  The question surprised Tom and he didn't quite know how to answer. “Well, not exactly.”

  “What did you want to do?”

  Tom would normally have told a student to leave him alone, but something about Suzie made him melt. She really was different. High school was tough for her. She never got invited to parties and not many people talked to her, at least from what Tom could tell. “I used to be like you. I wanted to write.”

  Suzie lit up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I even had a short story published.”

  “Wow. What happened?”

  Tom figured he might as well be honest. He didn't want to feel any dirtier than he already felt. “Well, not many people liked it. In fact, a lot of people hated it. I guess I just couldn't take the criticism.”

  Suzie didn't respond. Tom figured she didn't know how.

  “Anyhow,” Tom said, “why don't you run along? Lunch is almost over and I know how you like to read over there underneath that tree.”

  They both looked over to a leave-less tree away from the other students where Suzie often sat reading novels whether they were assigned or not.

  She smiled and began to walk away. Before she left she turned to Tom and said, “Thanks Mr. Straum.”

  Tom smiled and waved as she ran back to her place of solace. She looked so awkward running, thought Tom.

  Tom spent the rest of the day glued to his kindle while he told his students to read and they obliged as far as taking their books out and laying them on their desks unopened. Tom looked at more sites. They were mainly filled with chat rooms and pornographic images of group sex between old and out of shape people. It all made Tom a little queasy. He read some more stories.

  One guy talked about how he and his wife invited a young pool boy over. The couple was in their 50s and the boy was merely 23. The woman liked younger men and this guy was a hunk. The husband wrote the story and talked about how he watched his wife marvel at this kid's cock and blow him and fuck him until they both came. The man would then jump in and play with the boy's semen. The kid and the wife retired to the bedroom and forced the husband to sleep on the couch. He listened to his wife get fucked all night long. He liked it.

  Tom felt like puking. None of this appealed to him. He was a romantic. He believed in the whole one woman, one man thing. No matter how old fashioned it may have seemed. Sure, Tom had fantasized about other women, but he never dreamed
of cheating on Hillary. In fact, he always thought they'd work it out and just fall in love all over again. He didn't want to jerk off in the woods to girls like Penelope, and he didn't want to be swinging with strange couples.

  Most of the stories were the same. He read about clubs and initiations and how guys swapped wives or wives took multiple guys. Tom noticed only two similarities in all of the stories: the idea of swinging was almost always the idea of the woman and, when swinging, they never fucked just once.

  Tom felt so dirty. He didn't know whether to jerk off or take a walk. All he knew was he needed to get this shit out of his head. Only he couldn't. Every hour that passed was one hour closer to the big deed. He wanted to run straight home and back out of the whole thing. Tell Hillary he loved her and they should just run away together. Again. Only that hadn't really worked out the last time.

  The bell finally rang to release school and Tom drove home slowly. His stomach was in knots. He hadn't heard from his wife all day and he knew that she’d had the day off from work. Tom wondered how tonight would go. He imagined some sex club with endless naked couples salivating over his beautiful wife. He imagined watching his wife walk into a room with two men with bigger cocks than Tom while Tom got blown by some blonde with big tits.

  Tom stopped his car by the side of the road. He sat for a minute. He didn't know what to do. He took his bandaged hand and began punching his steering wheel. It hurt and he could feel the cuts opening up again but he didn't care. He took his other hand and started pounding with that one too. The horn in his steering wheel went off every now and then. He was sure people were staring, but he didn't care. He was pulled over on the side of a road with houses lining one side and a convenience store on the other. Tom screamed and yelled until he couldn’t anymore. He caused himself pain until he could take no more.

  Finally Tom sat breathless with his one hand bleeding again while the other swelled. He didn't know what else to do. Tom put his car in gear and drove to the house he lived in with his wife.

  As Tom stepped through the door, defeated, his hand dripped blood onto the floor. He didn't care. He knew Hillary was home because her car was in the driveway. His car keys clanked into the bowl on the kitchen counter and he heard his wife start making her way downstairs.

  She made her way into the kitchen and saw Tom's hand. “Oh my God. Tom, what happened?”

  “Just started bleeding again. I'll bandage it up before we leave.”

  His wife's concern at the moment seemed fake. She was clearly excited for tonight, and that bothered Tom. He looked at his wife. She had a dress on and was doing her hair and make-up. It was only four o'clock. She walked out of the kitchen and into the computer room. Tom tried to look over her shoulder to see what she was doing. It was some chat room. The screen was all red. Tom thought he remembered the site from earlier today.

  “We've got to head out by five,” she said. “Ok?”

  “Ok.” Tom headed upstairs. He didn't want to see his wife or get ready. He wanted to sleep. He laid down on the bed, closed his eyes, and hoped this was all just one big nightmare. He closed them real tight and hoped he would wake up in Australia holding a young Hillary again.

  “You're going to get blood on the bed,” Hillary said as she passed by to enter the bathroom and continue to do her make-up.

  Tom raised himself up so he was sitting on the bed. He wanted to say something to his wife. He just didn't know what.

  “So, listen,” he heard his wife say from the bathroom, clearly applying lipstick which she almost never did. “When I tell you who this date's with you can't get mad.”

  Tom just rolled his eyes. It couldn't get any worse.

  “It's with Richard and his wife.”

  Scratch that.

  Tom saw his wife enter the bedroom again and lean herself against the wall waiting for a response from her husband. Her hands were in front of her. Tom looked at her left hand to see the wedding ring he had spent an entire afternoon bargaining for on his low income. She had been so surprised and happy when he proposed.

  “Tom.”

  Tom looked up at his wife. “Yes?”

  “Did you hear what I said about Richard and his wife? Look, I know you've never gotten along with him, but they're a perfect couple to start with. They're very nice, and you should see his wife! My God.”

  “A student talked to me today.”

  His wife looked at him worried and confused. She really hoped he wasn't sick. She wanted tonight so bad. She needed it.

  “This girl named Suzie. She said she wanted to be a writer.”

  Tom's wife listened but discreetly glanced at the clock on the wall. They didn't have much time left and Tom hadn't even started to get ready.

  “I told her all the bullshit I believed when I was her age. Jesus. Do you remember being that young?”

  Hillary looked at him like it had been a rhetorical question.

  It hadn't been.

  “Tom, we don't have much time.”

  Tom sighed. He wished things were better. Maybe this was just life. One sick joke. He made his way to the bathroom to get ready for their “date.”

  VI.

  Hillary looked stunning. Her tight black dress was short, showing off her fit legs, and the top advertised her blessed mid section. She was all sex appeal tonight. Tom's stomach dropped even farther as he drove them to Richard's place.

  There was no talking. Tom was in his own world of despair, and to Hillary he did not exist at all. Every few minutes she would glance in the overhead mirror and move her hair one way or another or remove some imaginary bit of lipstick or makeup that was out of place.

  When they arrived Tom's despair only grew. Richard lived in a mansion. The place was at least three floors and the outside gave off the impression of something from Victorian England. The driveway was at least a half mile long with perfectly cut grass on each side. The house sat not far away from the water, where an impressive boat was outlined in the dark.

  Walking up to the door, Tom felt small. Richard had a level of success Tom had only dreamed of once and now did not even register as being within the realm of possible reality. Hillary knocked on the door which stood much taller than the two of them. The place was brightly lit on the inside. However, the inside was the last thing Tom wanted to see.

  The door opened. To Tom's surprise it was not a butler but Richard himself. He had only seen the man a few times before when Hillary had dragged him to office parties. He was devilishly handsome. He had thick black hair and was tall and well built. His face and eyes were well defined and masculine.

  “Hillary! You made it! I was getting worried!”

  The two embraced like more than old friends.

  Tom didn't even pretend to know what was appropriate and what wasn't in a situation like this. After the two released their hug, Tom caught Richard giving Hillary the once over and then he passed his glance to Tom. He made it obvious he wasn't impressed. “Tom. Good to see you again.”

  Tom merely nodded. He hoped he could get to one of the ten bathrooms in this place soon so he could puke.

  “Come in, come in,” said Richard, brightening up again once his eyes left the poor sight of Tom.

  They entered the house and Tom felt even smaller. The ceilings were so high you could barely see them. The place seemed like it consisted of endless hallways and rooms. They entered to see a beautiful stairway that cut off in two directions leading to the rest of the endless house. The floors were marble and everything in the place was brightly lit and shining. It all made Tom's eyes hurt.

  “Well,” announced Richard in his commanding voice, “I won't bore you with a tour of the place. I suppose you're both nervous and anxious. I know I was when I was standing where you were.”

  The sheer easiness with which he spoke about such a crude subject made Tom cringe. He looked over to his wife. She was beaming. Her eyes were glued to the lord of the manor.

  They entered the kitchen, passing endless pieces of art
and decor which Richard took no time to explain. The dining room was a room with little leisure space. There was a large table like something you see in a movie making fun of rich people. It was decorated with candles and fake fruit. Four plates of food were already placed on one end of the table. Must have given the staff the night off, thought Tom. Don't want them to know what a fucking perv their employer is.

  Already sitting at the table was pure beauty. She was the kind of woman you saw gracing the pages of magazines. Her hair was long and dark, her body was tight but thick. Her lips were succulent and tempting. Tom was immediately drawn to her, and just as immediately revolted by this natural want. The woman sat at a chair to the left of the head of the table with very little interest in anything happening around her. In fact she showed little to no interest in the people entering the dining room.

  In her hand was a full wine glass. Next to her was a half empty wine bottle.

  “Hillary, Tom, this is my beautiful wife Gloria. Gloria, say hi.”

  The woman named Gloria merely looked in the general vicinity of Hillary and Tom. She didn't give a look of welcome, but one of indifference. Tom wondered if she was as hesitant about tonight as he was.

  Richard led them to the table where he pulled out Hillary's chair for her. He sat her next to his wife while he sat at the end of the table. Tom sat to Richard's right. Alone. Tom looked to Hillary and noticed her eyes were still glued to Richard who beamed charisma with his slimy smile and his perfect hair. She must be wet already, thought Tom in disgust.

  “Please, everyone,” Richard said, “Enjoy the meal my cook prepared. It's grilled chicken with a wonderful salad with fresh vegetables from the garden.”

  Tom looked down to his food. It looked like it belonged in a magazine. He wasn't hungry. He saw Hillary obey her new crush and dig in while she and Richard gave each other suggestive looks and smiles like no one else was watching.