“Oh, no,” Doug said, his eyes softening. “I’m really sorry.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted Doug Morris’s pity, but I had to admit it was nice to vent. “So maybe you can see why it’s more fun in a way to dwell on the past, when I was young, healthy, and stupid. I think about you when I don’t want to think about what Josh turned into, after kids. He just would take out all his irritation on me. I got a lot of verbal abuse, and he was starting to get the belt out too often for my liking, to chase after the kids.”
“I knew you’d had kids, but fill me in?”
“Yeah, three. Mike’s thirteen, Emmy is eleven, Carter just turned nine. They’re with their dad while I’m out of town.” I remembered my unsatisfactory conversation with Josh from earlier. “At least, I’m pretty sure they still are. What about you? Didn’t you guys just have a baby?”
“Yeah, two years ago. We have a Mike, too, who is ten. The baby is Jason.”
“So, two in all,” I said, and he nodded.
“How’s Patty doing?” Doug said, after a pause.
“She’s still in San Jose. The kids love her. They don’t see her nearly often enough,” I said regretfully. “When they were born, she said she was going to be their Crazy Aunt Patty, and she really lives up to it, whenever she’s with them.”
“She was crazy even as a little kid. I got a big kick out of her.”
“I used to be almost jealous of you both. You had such a good understanding and you both joked nonstop. Your relationship seemed so uncomplicated and fun compared to what I had with you. “
“Ha. ‘Uncomplicated.’ ‘Fun.’ Not words I’d use to describe us,” Doug commented. “That’s why I knew we weren’t right, long-term.”
“It took you more than four years to decide that.”
“And you got clingier and clingier every day.”
“And you got nastier and more cutting.”
“I was trying to make you see we didn’t fit.”
“You wanted to break up, but you didn’t want the responsibility of being the one to pull the plug. So you just got worse and worse.”
“It was amazing what crap you took from me,” Doug said reminiscently.
“Yeah, and the more crap I took the more turned on you were. Admit it.”
He grinned again. “I wondered how far I could go and still be tolerated. Sure, it was a turn-on.”
“And that’s exactly why I kept tolerating it, because something was still working right. Really right.”
“Sounds like the stuff of a perfect marriage, to me.”
“That’s too close to the bone, Doug. That’s kind of the marriage I had. Only this time, I had the sense to bail out.”
“You need a guy who will really like you for being you,” Doug said helpfully.
“No shit,” I said contemptuously. “They’re not exactly standing in line.”
“Lose a few pounds. Stop being so bitter.”
“Wow, did you go back to college and get a psychology degree?” I knew Doug would consider that a low blow. He’d started out at community college, intending to go into architecture, then dropped out after less than a year, and I knew he regretted it.
I hurried on, hoping to find a more conciliating topic. “I don’t need anyone. Life is good, really. No complaints. Josh remarried. His wife,” I said with satisfaction, “leads him around by the nose. Men like you and Josh don’t appreciate insecure women nearly as much as you should. We’re easy to dump, but then what do you go and do? You get leashed to bossy ball-breakers who tell you when to breathe.”
“That’s not Tina at all.”
“Well, it is, from what Sam and Cindy tell me.”
“She’s really a nice person. She’s a good person.”
I relented. “I’m glad you think so, Doug. I suppose the whole family goes camping and hunting and fishing together.”
“We do. Jason’s too little yet to do much, but he still likes sleeping in a tent. Tina’s turned into a great cook. We’ve got a freezerful of venison, and we eat a lot of smoked salmon.”
I wrinkled my nose. I liked the outdoors, when viewed through a picture window. And Doug’s snide comments about my cooking had been legendary.
Doug caught the face I made. “See, Danielle? You’d have been miserable married to me.”
“I suppose,” I said. He had a point. “But I still think you treated me like dirt.”
“Bullshit.”
“You did. You never once gave me a compliment. I got a really different hairstyle once, got it permed and I looked good. You took one look and told me I looked like my mother.”
“Well, you did look like Evie! That’s not an insult!”
“The way you said it, it was too an insult, and you just won’t admit it.”
The old Doug Morris emerged for a second as he grinned in remembrance. I wanted to kick him. I went on, “Remember when I got contacts? You didn’t like my glasses. So I go to all this trouble to get contacts, and do you remember the only thing you said to me?”
“No clue. I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
I ignored his dry tone. “All you said was, ‘Your eyes keep blinking.’ Could you have been more cruel? I’d just gotten the damn things!”
“For god sake, Danielle, this was, what? Twenty years ago?”
I ignored his interruption. “Remember when you told me I might want to wear longer skirts so my thighs wouldn’t show?”
“No, I don’t remember.”
“Remember how you would make me beg for sex?”
His eyes gleamed and he grinned. “That was great! Best part of our relationship!”
“For you, maybe. I felt SO unwanted.”
He was still grinning. My foot itched to kick him in the balls.
“If it’s that great a memory for you,” I said, “obviously you don’t get begged very often now. What happened, loverboy? Tina’s not so impressed, huh?”
“Tina happens to wear the same size 5 she wore before having babies. For your information, she doesn’t have to beg. I still WANT to have sex with her!”
Perhaps it was fortunate that by then, dawn loomed on the horizon, suffusing the sky with salmon and orchid tones. We were both aware of another person in the room.
I made the introductions. “Doug Morris, this is the Devil. Er, is that what you call yourself?”
The nondescript man made a self-effacing gesture and handed us each a cream-colored business card with “Prince of Darkness Enterprises, Daemon Lucifer, CEO and sales manager, 555-980-6666, e-mail [email protected] ” tastefully embossed.
“So, Mr. Lucifer,” Doug said a bit nervously, “I didn’t ask to be here and I don’t want to be here and I just want to go home, that’s Schaumburg, Illinois, and get some more sleep before work.”
“Give him what he wants,” I said. “And I want this deal called off. Night of passion, my ass.”
The nondescript man shook his head mournfully. “Didn’t you read the contract you signed?” he said reproachfully. “All sales FINAL.”
“Well, I also saw that satisfaction was guaranteed,” I argued. “I did NOT have satisfaction.”
Mr. Lucifer looked Doug up and down and said pityingly, “How many years have you been doing this? You still can’t give a woman satisfaction?”
“You’ve got it all wrong!” and “That’s not what happened at all!” Doug and I spoke simultaneously. The nondescript man lifted his eyebrows and waited for further explanation.
“I never so much as took my clothes off,” I said in desperation.
“Ewww, yuck,” Doug said involuntarily. “I’m sorry, Danielle, but just look at you. You’re wearing your dinner. And when’s the last time you washed those shorts?”
“The feeling is mutual, that’s for sure. Keep your smelly boxers on, Doug. I ask on behalf of all your ex-girlfriends.”
He eyed me with loathing. “A night of passion, geez, Danielle. Can’t you go read a crappy romance novel instead of getting me involved?”
“Go smoke some salmon. Better yet, do some flossing, I see dinner from our last date still stuck in your front teeth.”
The nondescript man looked rather gleeful. “I’ve discharged my part of the bargain. You two have certainly had your night of passion.”
“That’s what you think!” I said with contempt. “There was no passion, and that’s God’s honest truth.”
“Please, watch your language,” the Devil said with dignity. He allowed himself a grin. “You never specified, Ms. Webster, what form of passion you wanted. I can see passionate argument going on between you two even now. What a night of passion you have had! I congratulate you both!”
“That’s equivocation,” I said indignantly.
“Objection!” Doug said.
Mr. Lucifer and I both looked at him.
“Still watching those courtroom dramas, Doug?” I asked him, but not rancorously. It’s interesting how easy it is to drop a stupid feud when the real enemy shows up.
I looked again at the nondescript man. “You know full well I had an entirely different kind of passion in mind. If I wanted to argue with Doug, I could have driven back to Chicago at any time over the past two decades. You haven’t given me anything I couldn’t have gotten for myself, free of charge.”
“Objection sustained!” said Doug, but closed his mouth when I looked at him.
The nondescript man looked at the ceiling for a moment as if weighing options. I could tell he was plotting further mischief. “I don’t trust you,” I told him.
He looked hurt. “I’m trying to see what I can do to make you a satisfied customer. All sales are final, but I have a reputation to preserve.”
“You do?” Doug asked skeptically.
“Of course. I do guarantee satisfaction. I can offer you a replacement night. Both of you need to sign here.”
“Uh-uh,” Doug was shaking his head. “I’m a married man and a Catholic. Not interested.”
“You never were,” I couldn’t resist saying resentfully.
“This won’t impact your present,” the Devil said smoothly. “This will merely cause a moment-by-moment replay of a night of passion in your head only. It will be like a dream, only with more sensory involvement.”
“Well…” Doug seemed to be thinking it through. “I sign this and then I can go home?”
Mr. Lucifer was holding out a fountain pen and another contract. “Then you can go home,” he agreed.
“It’ll still be 4 AM?”
“No time has elapsed.”
“I can still get two more hours of sleep, then.” Doug took the pen and signed.
“I don’t know…” I said, as the Devil turned to me, offering me the same pen and paper. “Satisfaction guaranteed,” he reminded me. So I signed.
The nondescript man started to look a whole lot less nondescript and a whole lot more evil. “Two souls for the price of one,” he gloated.
Doug and I looked at each other, appalled.
“What?” Doug said. “Where’s my glasses? What did I just sign? I need a lawyer!”
With urbanity, Mr. Lucifer read, “A night of passion with Douglas Robert Morris for Danielle Joy Webster, to be delivered by Prince of Darkness Enterprises, in exchange for the souls of Ms. Webster and Mr. Morris, payment date to be determined later.”
I was furious. “That’s not fair! You’ve just gotten an additional soul! For nothing!”
“What’s in it for me?” demanded Doug. “You can’t make me pay when I get nothing from this.”
“You have the satisfaction of helping out your friend,” the Devil advised him.
“She’s no friend of mine!”
I began to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Doug said, turning on me.
“I’m sorry!” I gasped. “But if you knew how many times I used to say, ‘Go to hell, Doug Morris—‘“ I started laughing again.
Doug never did have a sense of humor. But, to my surprise, the Devil wasn’t laughing either. “Business is business,” he said, almost apologetically.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Doug asked. “Wait for the bill to arrive?”
“You could do that,” said the Devil. “But don’t forget, you’ll be able to enjoy the moment-by-moment replay of a night of passion with Danielle.”
“Are we talking a whole night?” I asked skeptically.
“Of course,” said the Devil, looking affronted. “I keep to the terms of the contract.”
“I want you to write in that it’s a WHOLE night, then.” I spoke in the crispest legal-secretary tone I could manage.
Lucifer sighed. “I can guarantee you 12 midnight to 6 AM.”
“Do it,” I said instantly. An idea was forming in my mind.
Obligingly, the Devil showed me the change in the contract, which now read, “A night of passion with Douglas Robert Morris for Danielle Joy Webster, guaranteed 12 midnight to 6 AM.”
“Last chance, Romeo,” the Devil told Doug. “You’re paying for it; don’t you want to experience it?”
“No offense, Danielle,” Doug said, “but I think I’ll pass. I don’t want to have to tell Father Fritz next time I go to confession.”
“You’re already going to have to tell him that you signed your soul to the Devil,” I reminded him, and heaven help me, I said it a bit smugly.
“Damn. You’re right,” Doug said. He looked at our salesman. “This is all off the clock, right?”
“But of course!” the Devil said, with a hurt expression.
“You can stop looking offended,” I advised him. “We don’t trust you.”
“Do I have to be here?” asked Doug. “If we’re reliving this, can’t I just relive it from my own bed?”
“He wants to be in Schaumburg,” I explained to the Devil. “He feels safer with Tina to protect him.”
“Oh. Ha ha ha. You’re SO funny, Danielle.”
“Besides, he has to get up in two hours.”
Doug glowered at me.
The Devil considered. “I don’t see why you can’t go back home. Schaumburg, you say? I have seven or eight thousand souls there. Okay, observe it from your own bed. It will be like a dream, but very real. Call it virtual reality. Sure, I’ll send you back.”
“I need clarification,” I announced. “Are Doug and I going to show up for this and find our middle-aged selves? ‘Cause if that’s the case, you can count me out right now.”
Doug would not be outdone. “That makes two of us,” he said emphatically.
“It will be a replay of your past,” explained the Devil. “But you will be able to think about it in the present. Your added ability to observe in the present while engaged in the past should enhance your enjoyment.”
“A play-by-play,” I said dryly.
“A blow-by-blow,” Doug said, brightening. “Now that should be fun.”
“No, no, and absolutely no.” I looked at the Devil as imperiously as I could. “If you give me a replay of a night featuring blow jobs, I’ll be furious. I will NOT be a satisfied customer. No blow jobs.”
“Why, what was wrong with them?” Doug wanted to know.
“You’re clueless,” I said witheringly.
“You enjoyed them! You even told me so!”
“I was LYING. I was that desperate to keep you. No woman enjoys gagging for ten minutes and then, ta-da, finally swallowing that nasty stuff. Any woman who says differently is LYING for her own ulterior motives, such as keeping the guy. Go ahead, laugh. I know it’s pathetic.”
“What?” Doug said. “I don’t believe you.”
“Think back,” I advised him. “After you and Tina got married, how long did it take before the blow jobs stopped?”
The arrested expression on his face told me all. “They didn’t STOP, exactly…” he said. “They just became a lot less frequent.”
“She didn’t feel up to it, right?”
“She developed TMJ. There was a valid reason.”
“Ha. She slipped her den
tist a hundred bucks for that diagnosis, mark my words.”
That effectively shut Doug up. I turned to the Devil. “I want ‘no fellatio’ written into the contract.”
“I can’t do that,” the Devil said. “The records show that every sexual encounter you two ever had included fellatio.”
“What a pathetic person I was,” I commented in disgust. “All right then, but I am NOT going to swallow anything. Put that in.”
The Devil sighed and showed me the change in the contract. “No fellatio to orgasm.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” said Doug. “That’s not fair. No oral sex either way.”
“You’re losing your mind,” I told him. “You never gave me any.”
“I most certainly did,” he said indignantly.
“What, all five seconds of it? You were a master of ‘quick lick it and then stick it.’ I don’t care, take it out of the contract if you want. It never did a thing for me anyway.”
With a longsuffering look, the Devil showed us the contract again. The words “no fellatio to orgasm” had been replaced by “no oral sex to orgasm.”
“Not like that changes anything,” I commented contemptuously. “So don’t we sign again?”
“I have your signatures,” the Devil reminded me.
“You’ve changed the contract,” I reminded him back. “An unsigned contract revision won’t stand in a court of law.”
“Why did you tell him that?” Doug hissed. “That could have nullified the whole thing!”
“Oh no! You’re right! Where is Jill when I need her?”
“You’ve already signed the first one, if you want to just use that.” The Devil had assumed his hurt puppy look again.
“No, I want those changes,” I said, wavering.
“Sign here, then,” the Devil said, once again handing me a pen.
“I don’t know,” Doug said dubiously. “I guess it’s all right.”
“Doug,” I said, trying to give him a meaningful look. “I think this will work out.”
The Devil and Danielle Webster Page 3
