Commitment

by K. M. Golland

  Self-doubt was a tricky little turd. It twisted your vulnerability and hacked away at your inner strength and stability. It turned a good situation into anything but, which was exactly what had happened after I’d shown up at Dean’s work the previous day.

  Thanks to Alexis’s optimistic ‘feed your confidence, feed your vagina’ pep talk, I’d been empowered with a renewed sense of self-assurance — something I hadn’t tapped into post-motherhood. I’d felt great, alive, excited. Encouraged by the fact that Dean and I still nurtured lust, I’d taken myself to his work only to then have it all zapped away in one moment of seeing another woman’s arms around him — a younger woman, a pretty woman, a woman who, technically, spent more time with him than I did. And, because of that, all the ‘you’ve got this shit’ that Lexi and I had drilled into my head over and over had flown the fuck off and left me with ‘you’ve got nothing but shit’ instead.

  It was a horrible feeling. Hideous. A feeling I’d never really experienced before, having been too preoccupied as a working mother and wife to pay any attention to who might be flittering their romantic or sexual intentions around Dean. The thought of what temptation he could face had never really concerned me because I truly believed that, like me, he could never succumb to it. But then I had succumbed, to an extent.

  In a moment of weakness, I’d failed not only myself but also Dean and my marriage. And if I was capable of that, anyone was … even Dean. Oh my God! Has he succumbed to Hillary? Has she seduced him, pursued him, touched him and kissed him?

  I swallowed thickly as I unlocked the door to my office, shutting it behind me and leaning up against it. The thought made me ill. It also made me the world’s biggest hypocrite. But he was my husband and I loved him, and despite my failures, I would never want to see or hear of him with anyone else but me.

  Taking a cup and filling it from the water filter tank, I took a long sip and closed my eyes, only to reopen them when my phone sounded a message.

  Dale: Tash, I know you said not to contact you,

  but I have to say I’m so fucking sorry.

  I feel awful.

  There’s no excuse for how I’ve acted these past couple of weeks.

  Please don’t hate me.

  I’ve taken leave from work to get my head right.

  I’ve also deleted the footage like you asked.

  All I can do now is hope you’ll talk to me when I return.

  Again, Tash, I’m really fucking sorry.

  My legs weakened as I lowered myself to sit at my desk, reading Dale’s message a second and third time before tears fell from my eyes and dampened my cheeks. My ‘fight fire with fire’ attitude had worked so well that it had driven him from our workplace, and that saddened me, although I knew his absence was for the best. But I also felt awful because I’d never wanted this; I’d never wanted him to feel he had to flee or assess the type of person he was or had become because of me. All I’d wanted was for him to stop the chase, to stop the temptation. Except temptation wasn’t one-sided; it was fed by the tempter and nurtured by the temptee.

  I encouraged him, and in turn chased him away.

  * * *

  The first week of Dale’s absence went by slowly, the second, a little less, and the third, much quicker. When at work, I’d focussed solely on getting my job done, which had been great besides the niggling deep within that would only disappear upon confronting Dale when he returned — I just didn’t know when that would be, and I wasn’t about to message him and ask.

  On a good note, things at home between me and Dean were the best they’d been in years. The sex was spontaneous and a little strange at times, but never boring. He was a different person in the bedroom, but so was I. We were happy, on par with each other, helping each other out and just basically communicating. We’d barely fought, and that was because every time I cracked the shits, he’d just … kiss me. Out of the blue. For no good reason other than to shut me up and kiss me.

  At first it was bloody annoying, then it was fucking infuriating, and now it was amusing and a little aggravating when I was trying to avoid it. But, most of all, what it did was shift all focus from fighting. It defused an explosive situation, and although we’d need to sort the situation out at some stage, kiss-distraction was always a good thing.

  Another good thing was date night, something I’d arranged and planned to have once a month. It was a night without the boys, without the noise, but not without the toys. Yep, when I’d mentioned my idea to Dean, he’d been all for it, but he’d also added to it by suggesting we try something new each time, like a new position or sex toy. Tonight was our second date night, and it was his turn to introduce something new. I was excited and nervous, so much so that I needed my Alexis pep talk before arriving home.

  Pulling over in front of my neighbour Trixiebell’s house, I activated Bluetooth and called Lexi’s mobile.

  ‘Sha la la la la, laa,’ she sang as she answered.

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Oh my God, you really need to change your ringtone for me.’

  ‘No! I like it.’

  ‘But I’m Mrs Jones, not Mr Jones.’

  ‘So. I like Counting Crows.’

  ‘Ugh!’ I huffed. ‘I’m gonna change yours then.’

  ‘No you’re not. You love “Lady in Red”.’

  ‘Not anymore. I’m gonna change it to … hmm, let’s see … “Shut Up” by The Black Eyed Peas.’

  ‘You suck.’

  ‘Shut up. Just shut up, shut up,’ I sang, taunting her.

  ‘Did you want something?’ she deadpanned.

  ‘Yes, yes I did.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s date night tonight.’

  ‘And? This is your second one, right?’

  ‘Yep. It’s his turn to bring the something new.’

  ‘The something new? What are you talkin’ about? It’s not a wedding.’

  ‘I know that—’

  ‘You better not be ringing me for the something borrowed part, because you can fuck right off.’

  I laughed. ‘What the hell would I want to borrow from you?’

  ‘I don’t know, my nurse costume, nipple clamps, my—’

  ‘YOUR NIPPLE CLAMPS?’ I asked, a little too loudly going by the look on Trixie’s face.

  I nodded my head and waved. She waved back and continued to prune her roses.

  ‘Yes, my nipple clamps,’ Alexis continued.

  ‘What the hell do you have them for? Don’t they hurt?’ I gently patted my tender nips, reassuring them that there would not be any clamping in the near future.

  ‘No. Well, maybe a little bit. It’s a pleasurable type of pain though.’

  ‘A pleasurable type of pain? How can pain be pleasurable?’

  ‘Easy. Come on … when he goes so deep you think your cervix is about to break open like a coconut, or when he slaps your arse and the sting bites into your flesh, or … anal.’

  ‘There’s nothing pleasurable about anal. Shit’s meant to come out, not go in.’

  ‘You’re doin’ it wrong.’

  ‘No, I’m just not doin’ it.’

  ‘Missing ouuuuut,’ she sang.

  ‘Missing a blowouuuuut,’ I sang back. ‘I’m cool with that.’

  ‘A blowout? What are you talking about now?’

  ‘Bowel blowout. No thanks. You can shove your anal up your arse.’

  Trixiebell burst into laughter, and it was then that I realised our conversation was louder than I’d realised. Oops!

  ‘Who laughed? Who’s with you? Tash, do you have me on speakerphone?’

  ‘No. Kinda. I’m in my car on Bluetooth. I think Trixiebell heard you.’

  ‘TASH!’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Trixie hears everything. She’s always around, aren’t you, Trix?’

  She threw me a thumbs-up and continued to laugh.

  ‘You can prune my hedge too, if ya like,’ I added.

  Trix laughed even more and snipped her pruning shears i
n the air. I winked. Although nosey and a tad meddlesome, my forty-something-year-old neighbour was adorable and, at times, a lifesaver. If ever I needed an egg, Trixie had chickens. Lemonade, Trixie had lemons. Milk — I’d never needed milk — but I was sure that if I did, she’d have some … somewhere. Perhaps even a cow. Trixie had all kinds of animals in her yard. Animals I was sure she wasn’t supposed to have. I didn’t complain though. She was good to me, especially when I was super stressed over Dean and the kids. When that happened, she’d pass me cigarettes through the hole in the fence. Hmm … speaking of stress-smokes, I haven’t needed one for weeks.

  ‘Tash?’

  ‘Yo,’ I said, snapping out of my thoughts and building cigarette craving.

  Trixie smiled, so I gave her the universal hand signal for a cigarette by making a V with my fingers and pressing them to my lips. She tilted her head and giggled to herself, as if privy to a joke that I wasn’t.

  ‘So what did you ring me for?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I need a confidence boost for tonight. I’m a little nervous about Dean’s plans. He’s been a bit adventurous in the sack lately. Don’t get me wrong. I love his newfound spontaneity. I just have no idea what I’m in for and if I’ll like it.’

  ‘Relax. If you don’t like it, just say so.’

  ‘I don’t want to offend or scare away this new side of him. I’m enjoying what we’ve discovered.’

  ‘You won’t if you talk it out. Sheesh, why’s it so hard for couples to talk about sex? About what they want, what they don’t want, what they like and what they hate. Sex is about words and communication just as much as it’s about bodies and copulation.’

  ‘Ugh! You’re right.’

  ‘I’m always ri—’

  ‘Shut up. Just shut up, shut up,’ I sang.

  The cheeky bitch hung up on me, and I was just about to call her back when Trixiebell approached my car and hand-swiped me a smoke with the grace of a drug dealer.

  ‘I take it you wanted one of these and not a lesbian munch fest?’

  I choked. ‘What?’

  ‘Your signal. I swear I saw tongue.’ She raised her fingers to her lips and spread them in a V then poked her tongue in between and waggled her eyebrows.

  ‘TRIXIE!’ I exclaimed and cracked up laughing.

  ‘I might be a good neighbour, Tashster, but I’m not that good.’

  ‘Trix, you need a man. STAT.’

  ‘Find me one, and I’ll have him. I’ll have all of him.’ She snipped her shears with exaggeration and belly-laughed like an evil little minx.

  Oh what fear I have for the man who tries to tame the bell of Trixie.

  * * *

  An hour later and I’d smoked a cigarette to calm my nerves, drank some lemon juice, brushed my teeth, showered, made a quick stir-fry dinner, and was serving it up when Dean came through the front door.

  ‘Hi, hon,’ I said, looking over my shoulder as he turned the corner into the kitchen, only to watch him turn back around and disappear. What the hell?

  His footsteps echoed down the hallway, followed by the rattling sound of his keys being hung on the hook by the door. Knowing he’d remembered to hang them stretched my face into a massive smile. In hindsight, having his keys live on the benchtop wasn’t the end of the world. I knew that. I also knew that my reaction to them living there was way over the top and the result of channelled anger born elsewhere. But the fact that he was making an effort to do something so small, something he knew would make me happier, was a really nice feeling. And as stupid as it sounded, it made me feel just that much more appreciated.

  His footsteps again grew louder, so I peeked over my shoulder and met his smile as he entered the kitchen and stalked towards me. ‘H … hi,’ I stuttered, noticing his smile transform into a fervent leer.

  Dean’s lips magnetised to my neck, his hands to my hips. The force of his body against mine pushed me into the cupboards, my hands splaying on the benchtop for balance.

  ‘I’ve missed you, love,’ he whispered into my hair, sucking in a breath and taking in my scent. ‘I’ve missed how you smell, how you feel …’ He ran his tongue up the back of my neck and I shivered with excitement. ‘How you taste.’

  ‘I missed you too,’ I sighed.

  His hand snaked to my front, and his foot kicked my feet apart. I shrieked with surprise but did everything he commanded, my body temperature rapidly climbing while my underwear dampened.

  Grinding his hips into mine, he lifted my skirt and wrenched my underwear aside before sliding his finger up and down the seam of my pussy then circling my clit.

  ‘Oh, fucking donuts,’ I moaned, closing my eyes.

  ‘You like me ringing your cunt like a donut?’ Whaaaa? My eyes sprung open, as did my mouth. Did he seriously just say that to me?

  Shocked by his choice of words, and the fact that they had just come of out nowhere, I blinked and answered, ‘Uh … yes.’

  He pushed his finger inside me unapologetically. ‘“Uh … yes”, or “fuck yes”, love?’

  ‘Oh, fuck! Yes!’ I cried out, meeting the thrusts of his finger with the thrusts of my hips.

  ‘Good girl.’

  He slid out of me, and I instantly heard the sound of his belt jingling and his pants unzipping. It sent a shot of excitement right through my body, which amplified when the head of his cock teased my entrance.

  I arched, lifting on my tippy-toes to allow him better access, but he pressed his hand to my back and gently, but with enough dominant force, pushed me forward, bending me over the bench.

  My arms buckled and I dropped to rest upon my elbows.

  ‘Tell me you want my cock in your sweet little cunt?’ he hissed.

  My eyes widened with surprise yet again, but as he pressed himself inside me, I was at a loss for words … until he stopped midway.

  ‘I want to hear you say it.’

  ‘Wh … what?’ I mumbled, my tongue, body and head a concoction of confusion.

  ‘I want to hear you say you want my cock in your sweet little cunt.’ Oh my God, I cunt … I mean can’t … I mean why? Why does he want me to say that?

  ‘I … I want your cock in my sweet little unt,’ I mumbled, pressing back against him.

  ‘In your sweet little what?’

  ‘Unt,’ I mumble-repeated.

  ‘Unt?’

  ‘Argh! Yes, unt!’ I turned my head and glared at him, and his eyes widened … with shock or desire, I wasn’t quite sure.

  Before I had a chance to figure it out, his hand found my ponytail and he tugged on it. Hard. Ow! What the fuck?

  ‘You’re a naughty girl, Tash,’ he murmured, nipping my earlobe and pushing his cock all the way into my unt.

  I grunted.

  ‘What was that? Do you like it rough?’ Um … shit! I don’t know. Maybe. I also like my hair attached at the root.

  His hand tightened on my ponytail and I was given an instant facelift.

  ‘Um … yes, I … uh … do, but—’

  Dean reached forward with his other hand and clenched my breast, his thrusts quicker, deeper and harder. My body jerked against his movement, my scalp stinging, tears falling from the slits that were my eyelids. I was in a world of pain and pleasure, and it was in that moment that I realised what Alexis had been trying to say.

  ‘Yes,’ I cried out, arching my head back as far as it would go to try and gain some slack for my hair follicles.

  Dean let go of my breast, and the next thing I felt as my orgasm hit me vehemently was the sharp sting of his hand coming into contact with my arse followed by a harsh burning sensation.

  ‘Jesus, Dean. Fuck!’ I yelled.

  ‘Shit! Was that too hard? I’m sorry, love.’ He pulled out of me and stepped back.

  Twisting my body, I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Dean standing there, his eyes wide open, his cock at full mast but changing by the second. One hand was combed in his hair, the other covering his mouth.

  ‘Ouch. That hurt. What the fuc
k did you do that for?’

  ‘I … I … shit! You’re gonna need ice.’

  ‘Ice? What have you done?’

  He wrenched open the freezer door. ‘Where the fuck is the ice tra— Don’t worry, I found it.’

  I watched as he yanked it free, freezer blocks, schnitzels and a meat pie coming along with it and falling to the floor.

  ‘Watch out!’ I exclaimed, my cry useless when the meat pie landed beautifully on his big toe, eliciting a roar similar to mine of only seconds ago.

  ‘Fuuuuuck!’ Pain crumpled his face as he hopped to the bench, pants around his ankles, an empty ice-cube tray in his hand. ‘What the fuck?’ he asked, holding it upside down and looking up into it. ‘Where is all the ice? It can’t just disappear.’

  My arse was beyond the point of searing, excruciating yet somehow desensitized, but seeing him hop around the kitchen — his now limp cock hopping around with him — his face morphed with pain, and him questioning the science of sublimation, I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

  ‘Of course it can disappear, you idiot. If you’d helped William with his States of Matter project last term, you’d know that.’

  ‘Well, a fat lot of good that is then,’ he said, tossing the tray aside. ‘What doesn’t disappear?’

  My eyes shot to the meat pie.

  His eyes followed.

  And the next thing I knew there were lips pressed to mine, a tongue down my throat, and a frozen pastry dinner planted on my very sore butt cheek.

  CHAPTER

  22

  DEAN

  Dean, you stupid fucking half-brained dickwad.

  What had been going through my head when I whacked the fuck out of Tash’s arse was anyone’s guess but mine, because at the time it seemed a stellar idea. I mean, you see a ripe and perfectly positioned peach, you smack that shit.

  Clearly, not the case.

  Her skin had purpled instantly, not to mention there was a real good chance I’d fractured all twenty-seven bones in my hand, because it hurt like hell. What also hurt like a motherfucker — and was probably the twenty-eighth broken bone in my body — was my big toe.