Home Wrecker

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Home Wrecker Page 3

by Dwayne S. Joseph


  I looked over at the couple again. The mother was holding the baby in her arms—a girl draped in pink—and giving her a bottle. The father was looking over his wife’s shoulder, staring at a blond female with big tits, who was sitting with an older gentleman who could have easily been her grandfather. By the way she was rubbing his leg, it was obvious that he wasn’t. She reminded me of a younger Anna Nicole Smith, but not as pretty. Anna Nicole; now that was a woman who understood her power.

  I looked back to the husband. I could practically see his dick in his hand. Stroking. Fantasizing. Doing things in his mind to her that he’d never do to his wife.

  I thought about my father and my one-time relationship.

  Men.

  They were all the same.

  I looked back at Marlene. “Are you on the pill?”

  “The pill? No. They make me sick to my stomach. I use a diaphragm. Why?”

  “Do you still want to have a baby?”

  “It would have been nice being a mother, but I’m too old now.”

  “A woman in her sixties gave birth to twins last year. You’re a spring chicken compared to her. Besides, having kids at an older age is the in thing right now.”

  Marlene raised her eyebrows. “Maybe so, but I wouldn’t do it to be part of that crowd.”

  “So would you do it?”

  Marlene sipped her wine, blotted her lips. “If I had the right man . . . maybe I’d give it a try.”

  I looked back to the husband with the roving eyes. He was still stroking, still mentally fucking Anna Nicole’s copycat. I wondered if his wife noticed. Was she just so in love with her child that she was completely oblivious to her husband’s attention span, or lack thereof? Or did she know and just not care, as most women didn’t? I watched him. He was practically mesmerized by the double D’s.

  Ass. For all of the shit and disrespect a woman endured, men never suffered enough.

  Steve.

  He needed to suffer.

  I looked back to Marlene and thought that for the power and control I was going to help her get, I should be paid.

  “When you get home on Sunday night, have sex with Steve.”

  Marlene eyed me curiously. “Have sex?”

  “Yes. And forget the diaphragm.”

  There was a lot of confusion in her eyes at that statement. Before she could ask, I said, “In four weeks, give me the news that you’re pregnant. Make sure you’ve broken the news to Steve first. Two weeks after that, you’ll walk in on your husband fucking your co-worker, and your marriage will be over.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Steve needs to pay for the shit he’s put you through. Without chopping his dick off, the only way to truly cause him pain is by hitting him where it counts.”

  “In his wallet,” Marlene said.

  I nodded. “Exactly.”

  Marlene covered her mouth with her hand. I sat back in my chair and sipped my Cosmo.

  “Wow,” Marlene said. “Wow . . . that’s . . . that’s . . . wow.”

  “For eighteen years you can make him pay, Marlene. The way you hate him now—he’ll hate you every time he goes in his wallet.”

  “Wow,” Marlene said again.

  “Can you do it?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  I drank my Cosmo down and stood up. “Like I said, let me know in four weeks. If you do, then we have a deal. If you don’t, this conversation never happened. Go upstairs and get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  Without saying another word, I walked away, leaving Marlene alone with her thoughts.

  On my way out, I stopped by the couple with the baby girl. I was standing beside the wife’s shoulder, blocking the husband’s view. “She’s adorable,” I said.

  The mother, who was far more attractive than Anna Nicole’s twin, smiled at me. “Thank you.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Hailey.”

  “That’s a pretty name. How many months is she?”

  “Four and a half.”

  I smiled. “So precious,” I said.

  The woman smiled, thanked me again and kissed Hailey’s cheek. I looked from the wife to the husband. He’d gone from focusing on the blonde’s tits to mine. I cleared my throat, causing him to avert his gaze upward.

  I smiled at him.

  He smiled back.

  “Your wife is much sexier than she is,” I said.

  Then I left.

  Behind me, I heard his wife ask him what I’d meant by that. He stuttered and said he had no idea. In the mirror by the bar, I could see his wife turn around to look in my direction. I also saw her eyes stop dead on Anna Nicole’s twin.

  I smiled and went up to my room.

  In Marlene’s dreams that night, I was the woman being fucked by her husband.

  6

  Four weeks and three days later, Marlene walked into my office, closed the door and said, “I’m pregnant.” I was sitting behind my desk going over some designs for XXXstacy’s line. I put my pen down and looked at her. “Are you sure?” “Confirmed by my doctor.” I nodded. “Did you tell Steve?” “Yes.” “And his reaction?” “He’s thrilled. He wants a boy.” “And how are you? Are you thrilled?” Marlene smiled. “Actually, I am. I’m going to be a mommy.” I smiled. “Congratulations.”

  Marlene smiled again and put her hand on her flat belly. It was too early for her to be glowing, but she was. I was about to switch topics and talk about work when she spoke first.

  “So . . . two weeks, right?”

  I looked up at her. “Two weeks?”

  She gave a nod. “I held up my end of the deal.”

  “You still want to go through with it?”

  “Of course. Why would you assume I wouldn’t want to?”

  “You just seem so happy. I assumed that you were going to stay with him.”

  Marlene shook her head and brushed her hand through her hair again. I wondered if she’d stop doing that after Steve was out of her life. “I told him I was pregnant three days ago. Last night, after a late night at work, he had pussy on his breath. I’m happy at becoming a mother. Remaining married to him is not an option. Now, are you backing out?”

  I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. “Why would you think I would back out?”

  “Just making sure.”

  “The real question is, are you ready to pay half now?”

  “My checkbook is in my office.”

  “Won’t Steve notice the money missing?”

  “I have a private account he knows nothing about.”

  “Then get your checkbook.”

  Ten minutes later, I was holding a check for twenty-five thousand dollars. It was the most money I’d ever held in my hand at one time. It was an electric feeling. Made me wonder how many more Marlenes were out there. How many more were that desperate? How many more were that fed up?

  “So what’s next?” Marlene asked. She was sitting on the opposite side of the desk, her legs crossed, her hands intertwined across her knee.

  I folded the check in half and kept it tight between my fingers. “I want you to have a get together this weekend to celebrate the success of XXXstacy’s line. Invite a large number of people. VPs, directors, assistants. Invite XXXstacy if you want. Make sure your house is packed. During the party, I’ll plant the seeds for what is going to happen the following Friday.”

  “Next Friday?”

  “Yes. You’re still in bliss from finding out you’re going to be a mommy, so you cut your business trip short to come home and be with your husband.”

  “Business trip?”

  “Take a few days off starting next Wednesday. Tell Steve you have to go to Houston to meet with XXXstacy about the line. Take a mini-vacation somewhere. Go away with a friend or find a young stud and take him with you. Make sure you go someplace where there’s no chance of running into family or friends.”


  “And while I’m away, you’ll be . . .”

  “Cultivating the seeds I’ve planted.”

  Marlene nodded.

  I continued.

  “At exactly nine-thirty that Friday night, you’ll walk into your house with a friend that you had to call to pick you up from the airport since you couldn’t reach Steve after you called him repeatedly. When you walk in, you’ll find me riding Steve on your couch.”

  I stopped talking and looked at Marlene closely, looking for a reaction to what I’d just said. Would I see apprehension in her eyes? Would I see doubt? Regret, perhaps?

  Her nightmares would become a reality. Love him or hate him, she’d be privileged to a front row seat to see that other woman in her dreams fucking her man. How would she take that? Could she handle it?

  Seconds that seemed like minutes passed.

  I watched her.

  Her body language, her eyes—they told me the same thing: continue.

  “I want you to go off on me. Go off on Steve. Wake the neighborhood. Give an Oscar-worthy performance. The next day, we’ll meet and you’ll give me the other half of the money. You’ll be a free woman after that.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.”

  Marlene smiled. “My family won’t be able to say shit.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  “I’ll finally get to be the god damned victim.”

  “Finally.”

  “Wish I didn’t have to wait two weeks.”

  “If you want the harvest, you have to give those seeds time.”

  Marlene said, “A lot of our fruits and vegetables are designed to grow in labs now.”

  I smiled. “I don’t like lab grown fruits and vegetables.”

  “They say it’s better for you.”

  “God designed fruits and vegetables to grow from the earth and from trees. How could they be better coming from a lab?”

  “I don’t know. They just say it is.”

  “We need to get our shit together and stop screwing up the earth. Then there’ll be no need for fake foods.”

  “True.”

  “Go and plan that get together, Marlene. Blink, and two weeks will be here.”

  Marlene stood up and walked to the door and put her hand on the knob to pull it open. Funny, I thought. We were behind closed doors discussing the ruin of her marriage. I wondered what other business transactions people were discussing with their doors closed at that exact moment.

  The door still not opened, Marlene turned to me. “Lisette, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “How long did it take you to come up with this plan?”

  I folded the check in half again and laid it down on my desktop.

  How long?

  Back in Houston.

  After our discussion.

  After the couple with the baby.

  In the room masturbating, imagining being fucked by the man who invented it.

  That’s where the plan came to fruition.

  Funny thing was I never really gave it any thought.

  My fingers worked me the way I imagined Steve’s dick working me. Rotating clockwise. Counter-clockwise. Back and forth. Fast. Slow. Hard. Soft.

  I came.

  The idea was born.

  “Not long,” I answered.

  Marlene hmph’d and then opened the door and walked out.

  I looked down at the twice-folded check. Twenty-five thousand dollars. It was addictive.

  7

  Marlene’s house.

  Packed.

  People talking, drinking, laughing.

  I was sitting on Marlene’s leather sofa. My legs were crossed. A lot of skin was showing, thanks to the thigh-high, form-fitting, strapless black dress I had on. I’d bought it in Saks Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.

  A mannequin was rocking the hell out of it. Rocking it so fierce that I didn’t care about the price to lack of fabric ratio. I shelled out the money and then rocked it that night. Made a lot of heads turn. Made a lot of mouths drop.

  Made a lot of females jealous.

  This was the second time I’d worn it. Some people, when they find an outfit they like, they wear it every other week. Some forget about the other, and put it on every week. They usually have a favorite day.

  That’s not me.

  I don’t believe in over-wearing an item. I like to wear something, leave an impression and then let it sit. If you wear something too many times, the effect disappears. Once, twice, maybe three times I’ll put an outfit on. After that, it goes to the back of the closet. For what I had in mind, Marlene’s get together was the perfect occasion to rock it again.

  I was holding a glass filled with champagne. Marlene had recently made a toast, thanking everyone, including herself, for all of the hard work on XXXstacy’s line. In her speech, she said that she decided to throw the get together because she knew the big wigs weren’t going to.

  The whole time during her toast, my eyes had been on Steve, and his eyes had been on me. They had been on me since I’d walked into their mini-mansion. With our eyes, Steve and I flirted. Well, he flirted. I spun my web. Every chance she could, Marlene watched.

  Steve was GQ sexy. White button-down shirt. No tie. Black slacks. Matching blazer. Staring at him, I thought about Marlene’s statement again.

  He fucks like he invented it.

  Listening to Marlene’s toast, smiling along with everyone else, staring into Steve’s blue eyes, I had no doubt that her statement was true.

  After making unimportant small talk with a few of my co-workers, I moved to the couch and continued to watch Steve as he played the loving husband role. Arm around Marlene’s waist, smiling, chatting, laughing when it was required, and feigning interest when he had to.

  He was good.

  Occasionally I would look at Marlene and watch the subtle, disgusted expression appear on her face whenever Steve laughed or called her “Hon” out loud.

  I sipped some champagne and watched Steve over the rim of my glass as he watched me. Seductively, I sent a message with my tongue as I licked my lips. Then I stood up, walked to the front door, opened it and stepped outside.

  Five minutes later, the door opened behind me.

  “Lisette?”

  I turned around. “Steve.”

  “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You left the party and came outside. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

  I shook my head. “No. I just needed some air. Besides, it’s a little stuffy in there.”

  Steve smiled a sexy smile and stepped outside. “I know what you mean,” he said, closing the door behind him. Before it closed completely, I saw Marlene staring in our direction.

  I looked at Steve and smiled when the door closed. He smiled back, his smile giving me goose bumps, and said, “So, are you enjoying yourself?”

  “I am. I just had to get away for a few minutes.”

  “I understand,” Steve said, laughing slightly. “I try to avoid spending any more time with my co-workers than I have to also.”

  I wanted to say, “Except your secretary,” but I didn’t, and smiled instead.

  “So, you guys really have great things going with this rapper.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Very stylish designs. I hear you’re responsible for all of that.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve come up with a few designs.”

  “From what a lot of those co-workers inside say, without the designs you created, the line wouldn’t be as successful.”

  I shook my head. “I just come up with designs. What’s really made it a success has been all of the marketing. That’s Marlene’s area. She really deserves the credit. She’s pretty phenomenal with the ad campaigns.”

  At the mention of his wife’s name, Steve looked over his shoulder at the door. If he had x-ray vision, I have no doubt he would have used it at that very moment to see where she was. I d
idn’t need superpowers to know she was practically leaning against the door with a cup against her ear.

  “Shouldn’t you be getting back inside?” I asked. “I’m sure Marlene misses you.”

  Steve shook his head. “She’s entertaining. She probably doesn’t even notice that I’m gone.”

  “I’m sure she notices.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I’d notice.”

  And there it was. The bait.

  Steve looked at me with hunger in his eyes.

  I watched him with seduction in mine.

  Laughter came from behind the door. Marlene’s voice. First close. Then drifting away.

  His eyes still on me, Steve said, “See . . . entertaining.”

  “I see.”

  Steve and I watched each other as a soothing, nighttime breeze blew around us. The temperature outside was around seventy-five degrees. The gaze coming from Steve’s blue eyes was much warmer. He looked me up and down, his eyes going from my breasts down to my legs, and back up again.

  “Your hair looks nice pinned up like that.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Lisette.”

  I looked at him, but didn’t say anything. I wanted him to keep going. I wanted to see how bold he would get.

  “That dress . . . on you . . . wow. I’ve seen beautiful women before, but you . . . you’re different.”

  “Different? Different how?”

  “You’re just different,” he replied. “You have a sex appeal that’s just damn infectious.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Infectious?”

  “Very.”

  “You’re flirting with me.”

  “You were flirting with me inside.”

  “Was I?”

  “Your lips . . . I saw you licking them.”

  “They were dry.”

  “A tongue doesn’t move the way yours did to quench dry lips.”

  I took a step closer toward him. “And how did my tongue move?”

  “Deliberately, like it was longing to lick something else.”

  I licked my lips for his benefit. “Hmmm.”

 

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