Meg's Moment

by Amy Johnson

  MEG’S MOMENT

  By

  Amy Johnson

  World Castle Publishing

  http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  World Castle Publishing

  Pensacola, Florida

  Copyright © Amy Johnson 2011

  ISBN: 9781937593254

  Library of Congress Catalogue Number 2011937352

  First Edition World Castle Publishing October 1, 2011

  Second Edition World Castle Publishing May 26, 2012

  http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com

  Licensing Notes

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  Cover: Karen Fuller

  Editor: Beth Price

  Dedication

  For Josh, Zach, Ashley and Tyler. My inspiration and my world.

  Chapter One“Passion or comfort? That is the question. Which is more important in a relationship?” asked Megan Malone, domestic Goddess, column author, mommy to two Golden Retrievers and one defiant gold fish. Megan was seated at her weekly ‘What’s the Topic’ luncheon with the girls at their usual table in the ‘Usual Place’, a trendy soup and salad joint in the middle of town.

  “Clarification?” asked Josie who was infinitely 25, blonde this week, and dressed in leather from head to toe.

  “Okay. Would you rather be with someone who you are absolutely comfortable with where you don’t have to put up a front and pretend? Someone who knows you better than you know yourself and knows exactly what you want and like. Or would you rather be with someone who sucks your breath away with a look, looks at you like you’re lunch, then scoops you up and devours you sexually until you forget your own name?” Megan clarified.

  “This for you personally or for the column?” Stacy inquired. Stacy was the most logical and sensible of the girls. She was 30 years old, lived in a sensible home on a sensible street, drives a sensible car and has been married for five years to a sensible man. Nothing wrong with any of that except, sometimes, sensible is boring. And in Stacy’s case boring and predictable could quite possibly describe her from cradle to grave.

  “What?” Meg asked a little preoccupied.

  “The question. Is it for you personally or for the column?”

  “Oh!” Meg faked surprise bringing her hand to her chest and making her eyes wide. “For the column, of course. I’m perfectly happy in my marriage,” she lied.

  “Who you trying to convince, honey?” asked the always observant Mickey. Mickey was a therapist’s wet dream. He’s a bi-polar transvestite who has living a double life down to a fine art. You see, Mickey was a bit confused. Sometimes he wanted to be a boy in which case he dressed like one and went by his birth name, Michael. Other times he wanted to be a girl, a diva really, and dressed in drag, usually cramming his size 13 foot in stiletto heels. While in drag he went by Mikayla. Since most of the time he wore jeans and a T-shirt the girls just called him Mickey and he tended to bounce back and forth from Michael to Mikayla at random. Today he was just Mickey, styling in his skinny jeans and pink T-shirt that had the word ‘Princess’ blazed across the chest.

  “Ignore him. He’s just looking for some scandal,” Ali said giving Mickey a stern look.

  “I don’t have to look for it, honey child. I am a walking scandal. Scandal makes life fun. What you need is a little more scandal and a lot less drab. Ok-ay.” He high-fived the other women at the table while Ali kicked him under the table. Ali was the newlywed. We hate her. She was totally in love with her new hubby and never let an opportunity pass to let the world know. Sometimes we wanted to smash her in the head with a rolling pin but mostly we just love her and were happy that one of us finally found the real thing. Okay, so we envied the hell out of her. Sometimes.

  “Can we just get back to the original question please?” a frustrated Meg asked.

  “Passion or Comfort?”

  “Passion! Absolutely! Life is too short to spend your time in bed with a mechanical robot stuck in missionary position. I, for one, need a little variety. A little spice,” reported Josie.

  “Well that’s one way of looking at it. I mean we all know that the reason you can’t make it to a third date with anyone is because you’re a spoiled princess pain in the ass. But if you look at it that way it appears that you replace them instead of you getting dumped. Optimism works for you babe.” Mickey took a long pull on his lemonade and opened his mouth to start on her again but stopped when Ali kicked him under the table again. Josie eyed him with narrow slits that, if looks could kill, would have spontaneously combusted his head right then and there.

  “Well I for one vote for comfort,” Stacy began. “We all know that passion fizzles after a while and I would take comfort and continuity over passion anytime. Love isn’t always excitement and sizzle. It’s hard work and when the passion is gone the important thing is that you have something left, something that will stand the test of time. Like comfort. With yourself and with your partner.” Meg nodded and Josie and Mickey both rolled their eyes.

  “Boring.” Mickey and Josie both said in unison.

  “No, not boring. Sensible. Realistic,” Stacy defended.

  Another eye roll.

  “What do you think, Ali?” Stacy asked hoping for a little support.

  “Well,” Ali sat her diet coke on the table and played with the straw, “I think you can have both. Look at Bill and me. We’ve been married 2 years now and we are completely comfortable with each other. We are set in our routines and habits and, sure, life is fairly predictable but just a look can set our souls on fire and make our stomachs do flips. We have comfort by day but at night we can set the sheets on fire, and usually do. It’s like once naked we turn into animals and the passion drips off of us like sweat. Why just last night…”

  “Boring,” Mickey and Josie interrupted.

  “Why is it boring? Are you saying true love is boring?”

  “No. True love isn’t boring when we’re in it. But since we’re not, we don’t want to hear about it. So, like I said, Boring.” Josie waved her hand at Ali as if to erase the matter.

  “You’re just jealous!” Ali responded with narrowed eyes.

  “Hah! Jealous of what?” Josie demanded with an incredulous look on her face.

  “How bout of the fact that while you’ll be at home tonight with cucumber slices on your eyes to get rid of those hideous bags I’ll be at home in the arms of my prince, who loves me so thoroughly and deeply that I sleep so pleased and relaxed that I don’t end up with a big zit on my forehead caused from the stress and loneliness of being a shallow tramp like you.” Everyone gaped openmouthed at Ali who picked up her diet coke, took a long swig, and innocently shrugged her shoulders. Meanwhile Josie had the metal napkin holder examining her forehead and searching for imaginary bags under her liquid brown eyes. “Bitch,” she muttered then jumped from the booth in a mad dash to the bathroom with her menu covering her face.

  Ali gave a sweet smile and asked the group “What?” All innocence and sincerity.

  “That was mean,” Megan began. “You know how she gets about wrinkles and bags and stuff. Ever since she hit thirty it’s been one constant nose dive. We all need to be sensitive to that.”

  “She started it!” Ali exclaimed.

  “She deserved it!” agreed Stacy.

  “Back to the question guys. Mickey?” Megan asked attempting
to change the subject.

  “Passion! All the way, Babe. When the passion’s gone it’s over. Sianora, Sweetheart. Time to move on. If you don’t the other person will. Passion is the name of the game, girlfriend.” Mickey gestured for the waiter and asked for a refill of lemonade.

  “That’s so typical of a man,” Stacy began. “All they’re interested in is sex, sex, sex. I bet if you asked ten men on the street without their wives present they would all agree with Mickey. It’s so freaking shallow and… and….”

  Mickey interrupted with obvious disgust. “Do I look like a man today? Hello. I am wearing my pink ‘princess’ shirt and pink suede sneakers.” He stretched one long leg out, swung it around, and plunked his size 13 on the table. “Now, I never come to lunch with the girls as Michael. So all opinions expressed here are the sole beliefs of the vivacious Mikayla. And furthermore, Josie is all woman and she agrees with me. And once the new wears off Ali’s marriage she’ll feel the same. And Stacy…well, Stacy wouldn’t know passion if it crawled up her leg and bit her on her g-spot.” He removed his foot from the table, took a sip, swallowed and continued. “You see, I’m a realist. I know when to hold 'em and I know when to fold 'em. When you shake up the bottle and there’s no fizz left it’s time to chunk it and shop for a new one.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Stacy started but stopped when she saw Megan nodding her head in agreement with Mickey.

  Megan sat her glass of tea down and looked at Stacy. “He might have a point, Stacy. I mean, what happens in a lot of marriages when men and sometimes women hit middle age and have a mid-life crisis? They grow tired of comfort and search for passion. Sometimes in sports cars or motorcycles or, more commonly, younger, hotter mates. It’s like he said. When the passion goes flat the shopping begins. Maybe passion is the name of the game.”

  Stacy stared incredulously at Megan. Ali seemed to ponder it and Mickey gave a palms up gesture followed by a satisfied grin. Josie rushed back to the table, took her seat and asked breathlessly, “What did I miss?”

  “Apparently that zit on your chin,” Ali muttered and Josie gave her a look of horror, grabbed her menu, and made a mad dash back to the bathroom. When an elderly lady at a nearby table cast a concerned look their way Ali simply waved her hand and said “The runs. Poor thing.”

  Everyone was staring at her with maternal glares and she held up two fingers and said. “Last time. I swear. I’ll be good from now on. Scouts honor.”

  A half hour later the gang had disbanded to go back to their jobs with the exception of Josie who made emergency appointments for a facial and massage. “What about work?” Megan had asked her as she closed her cell phone after making appointments.

  “I’ll just call in sick,” she replied.

  Mickey, never letting an opportunity pass to get in a dig, told her, “You’d have better luck if you called in ugly, honey.”

  Josie burst into to tears, grabbed her purse threw a twenty on the table and flew out of there.

  ***

  On the drive home Megan pondered their discussion and her eyes stung with tears. She hadn’t ever realized she wasn’t happy until today. She’d been content in her little routines and a marriage that was comfortable. From the outside looking in she had it all. Her husband Ted ran a successful photography studio and made a comfortable middle class income. When they got married ten years ago they purchased a small tidy house less than a mile from her parent’s home. In the early months of her marriage Ted and she had done crazy things like wallpaper the bathroom in the nude and there was one time when they were painting the bedroom where they threw paint on each other playfully and ended up making love on the drop cloth, rolling around in lavender paint. Where had all that passion gone? What happened to them?

  About a year after they took their vows Megan had the whole homemaker thing down to an art and Ted’s business was doing well so Megan brought up the issue of raising a family. Ted resisted and Megan was so eager to please him that she decided she could wait, so instead she hinted around for a dog. When Ted said no to that, too, she took matters into her own hands and bought herself a fish. She just needed someone or something to take care of or talk to while Ted was at work so she went to the pet store and bought herself a goldfish. She named him Spot and pretended he was a Golden Retriever. When Ted got home he made fun of her and her fish, told her she was stupid, and that she needed to get a life. His words hurt her and his anger bothered her but it was the coldness in his eyes that really sent chills up her spine. It was the first time she’d ever crossed him and he didn’t like the loss of control. But she stood her ground and Spot stayed. While Ted worked and she got bored she tried to teach the gold fish to throw the finger at Ted when he wasn’t looking, but since Spot only had fins and couldn’t achieve the task she gave up. But somehow she knew that when Spot squished his little fish face to the glass and glared at Ted he was silently telling him to go to hell. She and Spot shared many secretive smiles on the matter. Then one day Ted came home with flowers and wine and apologized to Megan and she forgave him, and Spot was no longer an issue.

  After another two years of being the happy homemaker Megan again got bored and tried to take a stand. She informed Ted of her plans to find a job. Again he said no and told her she wasn’t good at anything but cooking and cleaning and that if she wanted to find a job she could look for a new husband while she was at it. So, defeated once again, she continued on as Ted’s wife and Spot’s mommy, bored as hell and angry at herself. But once again Ted was sorry and she forgave him and, as usual, she tried to make do.

  Life went on, boring as hell, until their fifth anniversary. Ted’s business was booming and Megan had pretty much memorized every do it yourself program and completely redecorated the majority of the house but she still couldn’t find that contentment that she desperately needed. Spot was getting restless too and had expressed his need for a sibling, so once again she brought up the issue of having a family over a candlelit dinner. Ted yelled and whined and pitched a fit and Megan became so angry that Spot and she moved in with her parents for a weekend. Her mother was not happy about having a fish for a grandchild but, like all good grandmas, she made him welcome and put a framed picture of him on the mantle. Spot seemed happy. But that Monday morning Ted showed up with two Golden Retriever puppies and said he’d think about having a family if she’d just go home. So she did and things were better. Spot had a brother and a sister and her parents had two more grandchildren to take pictures of. She had two adorable pups to teach how to throw the finger. Life was improving.

  Then Megan entered a writing contest on the internet for a magazine. She won the contest and two thousand dollars. When the magazine called her back and asked her to write a weekly column for them she took the money and upgraded her computer. She accepted the offer and ‘A Moment with Meg’ was born. Although no one but her girlfriends knew she wrote it she finally had something to do that brought her enjoyment. The girls started meeting weekly to discuss topics and she was stacking away a small nest egg on the side. She figured she could save the money to maybe hire a hit man to knock off Ted someday, although she knew she could never do it. Control freak jerk that he was, she loved him.

  So now here she was ten years into her marriage with a smart assed fish, two lazy pups, and a marriage with no fizz left. “Megan Malone, this is your life,” she thought to herself as she pulled into her driveway.

  The first thing she did when she got in the house was call Josie. She was going to get some passion back in her marriage if she had to kill Ted to do it. It was there once. She’d just have to go shopping and buy an outfit that would wake the dead. And if anyone knew about shopping with a purpose, it was Josie. Josie answered on the third ring.

  “Mmmmm?”

  “Josie? It’s Meg. Where are you?”

  “Getting a massage. Sergio here is a miracle worker. He has magic hands,” she lowered her voice, “and a killer package. He really knows how to relieve the tension.” From above
her Sergio smiled.

  Megan needed a miracle. “Does he have any openings for today? I need some magic.”

  Megan heard Josie ask him in her sweet saucy voice, reserved for getting what she wanted from a man. The fact that she was probably naked under a thin sheet on his table probably didn’t hurt matters. They exchanged a few muffled words and Josie came back on the line. “Can you come down right now? He just had a cancellation.”

  Sure he did, Megan thought.

  “I’m on my way. Gimme the address.”

  Fifteen minutes later she was in her bra and panties, covered by a flimsy white sheet, listening to elevator music when Sergio walked in the door followed by Josie.

  “You don’t mind if I hang out do you?” Josie asked. Megan didn’t respond.

  She couldn’t. She was engrossed in staring at this God who had just walked in the door wearing a snug pair of Levi’s and a painted on shirt that hung on his muscles and perked up muscles in her body that she thought were dead. He had neatly cropped, black hair and the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. He was somewhere between 25 and 30 and the closest thing she’d ever seen to heaven on earth. His hands were large and masculine and in less than five minutes they’d be all over her. She silently racked her brain to remember if she was wearing pretty underwear that matched and hoped against her usual period panties and ugly bra held together with safety pins.

  “Megan? Do you care if I hang around while you get your massage?” Josie repeated. Again Megan didn’t respond.

  While Sergio turned to wash his hands, Megan discreetly peeked under her sheet and thanked God that she was wearing Victoria’s Secret. She thanked Victoria too. Sergio turned around and smiled and Megan felt her body temperature increase by about a thousand degrees. She started praying. ‘God don’t let me do anything embarrassing like have an orgasm right here. I promise I’ll be good. I’ll call my mother every day, just please don’t let me…’

  “Megan!” Josie said loudly at the same time Sergio asked “Is this your first time?”