The Sweet Wife (6 page)

“It’s O’Donnel.”

He turned and she heard him descend the stairs.

She shook her head. “Yes, of course,” she said to herself. She got out of bed, balled the scrap of paper up and tossed it into the wastebasket under her dressing table.

Chapter Two

As Maureen showered she saw that Travis’s cum was still seeping from her vagina. Thank God, she thought, she’d had the good sense to plan this for a time when she wasn’t fertile. She closed her eyes as she remembered how painfully her pussy had been stretched. She felt again the incredible length of his thick cock probing her depths, and the hot continuing gush of his cum. Her clitoris became quickly engorged. She rubbed it and had a powerful orgasm immediately. As she dried, she noticed the last of the black man’s jism still oozed from her slit.

Even though the sheets were damp and smelled of sex, she was too tired to change them. She spread a clean towel over the wettest part and pulled the blankets over her. Later she felt Brian crawl in beside her. She turned her back toward him and fell into a peaceful sleep.

At breakfast Brian suggested he not go to work. “Maybe,” he began rather sheepishly, “we can have sex and you’ll tell me how it felt, how his cock felt while we fuck?”

“Brian, let’s forget it ever happened. You better get going. I need to pick up the kids. I’d appreciate it if you never mentioned last night again.” He was about to protest but she quickly cut him off, “How about if you tell me what it felt like to lick his balls?” Brian’s face turned scarlet. Without another word, he put on his jacket and left.

The next night, Brian tried to initiate sex again but she rebuffed him. Her refusal, she told herself, had nothing to do with Travis’s parting orders. She realized that she’d lost all respect for her husband and the idea of having sex with him had become repulsive. She knew unless her feelings changed, she and Brian could have a real problem. She took some comfort in the thought that time would erase, or at least diminish, all memories of their encounter with Travis. However, just the opposite was occurring. She found herself reliving the experience through most of Monday. On Tuesday, she masturbated while imagining it again.

Wednesday afternoon she emptied the waste basket looking for the scrap of paper on which Travis had written a phone number. She flattened it out on her make-up table. There it was in bright red lipstick, 345-1927. She was about to put it in the trash bag, but instead folded it neatly and placed it under the hand mirror in the table drawer. She still found it hard to believe the evening with Travis had really happened. At times it seemed as if she’d imagined it. However, at other times, particularly if she woke in the middle of the night, it was very real, and she would masturbate, getting herself off quickly and quietly.

He’d said she was to phone him between noon and one o’clock on Saturday. She made it a point to take the children to the park that afternoon. On Sunday she and Brian had a major quarrel about her continued refusal to have sex.

At five minutes to one on Monday, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she picked up the phone and punched the numbers Travis had scrawled on the scrap of paper. The phone rang several times. She was about to replace the receiver when someone picked up.

“Yeah?” It was Travis.

Suddenly she felt afraid and almost put the receiver back. After a moment she gathered her courage, “Uh...ah...I…this is Maureen, you remember from a week ago, I mean a little more than a week ago.”

“What you want?”

“Ah, well, I just wondered how you are.”

“That’s bullshit. You was supposed to phone me on Saturday. This is Monday. I got no time to play games.”

She knew she should hang up. Instead, she found herself apologizing. “I’m sorry. I’d promised the children that I’d…”

He interrupted, “I don’t give a fuck what you promised. I don’t give a fuck about your kids. I don’t want to hear about your damn kids no more. You understand? You got a lot to learn.”

He was ignorant, and mean, and angry, and a complete low-life. Still, the sound of his voice was making her wet. “I’m sorry. Really I am.”

“I’ll ask again. What the fuck you callin me for?”

“I…I…thought maybe we could meet somewhere. Have coffee and talk.”

“I don’t like coffee and I don’t talk.”

“Well, a drink then.”

“Did you buy that stuff I told you to buy?”

“I couldn’t. Honestly, I just couldn’t. We’re on a tight budget and the kids need so many things. I feel terrible for having spent so much before.”

“Did you fuck or suck your wimp husband or let him eat your pussy?”

“No...no I didn’t. He didn’t.”

“OK, then. To hell with your kids. You go out and get the things I said. Make sure they’re sexy. When you have them you can call me and maybe we’ll see about havin a drink.” He hung up.

“Arrogant bastard!” she said aloud as she replaced the receiver. If he thinks I’m going to spend money we don’t have on clothes and shoes just so I can meet him for a drink, he’s crazy.

The next morning, she checked the balance in their Christmas fund. It was a little over eight hundred dollars. They’d tried to save at least a hundred dollars each month. That afternoon she withdrew three hundred. During dinner, looking at her laughing children, she quickly got up from the table and went into the bathroom to cry. Before falling asleep, she swore to herself she would return the money in the morning.

The early June day was warm and bright. After the bus picked the children up for school, she drove directly to the bank. The three hundred dollars was in her purse. She parked the car but didn’t get out. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and recalled the scent and taste of the black man’s cock. She remembered how she’d knelt naked between his legs and assumed the position. She repeated silently to herself, “I’m on my knees to worship my black lover’s cock.”

A half hour later she was in Ailene’s, an upscale boutique. The salesgirl recognized her. “Hey, those sexy clothes must have made a hit,” she laughed. “Did your husband go wild or what?”

Maureen felt herself blushing, “Y...Yes,” she stammered. “He was pleased.”

“So, you’re back planning a repeat performance, right?”

“Yes...a repeat performance.”

Later she arrived home with only twenty dollars left out of the three hundred. The children would be back in half an hour. She had memorized Travis’s number. He picked up on the third ring. “Yeah?”

“It…it’s Maureen.”

“What the fuck you want now?”

“I thought we might have that…that drink if...if...”

He cut her off, “You gonna look pretty for me? New dress. New fuck-me shoes?”

She found herself staring at the coat rack in the hall. On it was little Billy’s worn jacket. Next to it hung Sara’s bookbag with the broken strap and the winter coat she’d outgrown. Maureen swallowed holding back the tears. “Yes,” she said, “I bought a new dress and shoes.”

“You gonna look hot, right? No fuckin bra, no panties, shaved pussy?”

“I...I’ll try. Try to look the way you want me to.” She paused, “But we’ll just have a drink, and then I’ll need to come home.”

“You telling me you spent a bundle of money to buy them new clothes just to have a drink with me?”

“Well…I…I…just can’t. Can’t do...anything else…there’s Brian and the kids and…”

Again, he interrupted. “Saturday night. Ten o’clock. “Jimmy’s Bar and Grill.” It’s on Railroad Avenue down by the river in the Riverton section. Take a cab.”

She began to protest, “But the Riverton area is…is…”

“Yeah, it’s where us poor fuckin blacks live. What did you think? You think I was gonna buy you a beer in the fuckin Marriott Hotel? Now, goddamn it, you gonna be there or not?”

She knew she should hang up. Not even white men went into the Riverton after dark. “Yes, I’ll be there,” she felt her heart pounding and her legs trembling.

“You be lookin real hot for your black lover. Let me hear you say it. She sat down at the kitchen table and squeezed her eyes shut. Her mouth had gone dry.

“I ain’t hearin nothin but breathin,” he said.

“I…I’ll do my best to...to...look hot for my black lover.”

“Yeah, you better. You carryin a lot of baggage with them kids and a husband. You gotta make up for that by lookin damn sexy and bein damn sweet to your main man.” He paused, waiting for her to respond. “Let me hear you say it.”

Her voice shook so much she could hardly get the words out. “I…I…promise. I’ll look sexy for you. And…and I’ll be sweet.” On the other end of the line she heard the click of his hanging up. She buried her head in her arms and sobbed quietly. But at the same time she was aware of the tingling in her crotch and the moistening of her pussy.

During the rest of the week she found it hard to look at Billy and Sara without tearing. She prepared Brian’s meals but avoided him as much as possible. On Friday night they had an argument about her continuing to deny him sex. He stormed out of the bedroom and slept on the couch. Saturday evening, he took the kids to his mother’s for dinner. She knew they wouldn’t return until nine or later.

From the back of the closet she took the packages she’d brought from Ailene’s. She spread everything out on the bed. The blouse was a soft red, almost transparent, silk. It had a scooped neck and buttoned up the front, long loose sleeves ended at her wrists. The tailored nylon skirt was a darker red that reached to her knees, but had a side split halfway up her thigh. Looking at the shoes she shook her head knowing that for what they cost she could have bought the kids new coats, book bags, sneakers, and jeans. They, too, were red and consisted of little more than the four inch heel and thin straps that circled her ankles and stretched across the base of her toes. Half aloud she said, “Fuck-me shoes that cost a hundred and fifty dollars!”

She sat on the edge of the bed and cried. What’s wrong with me, she wondered. I’m a good mother and I love my children. I’d do anything for them. Until two weeks ago my marriage had been OK. I’ve taken money we’d saved for Christmas and spent it on these foolish things. For what? So that I can meet a gross, fat, arrogant black bastard who looks upon me as his woman. I must be insane. She noticed the tags were still on the clothes and she had the receipts. She could take them back tomorrow. She could phone Brian and ask him to come home now. She reached for the phone then, hesitating, put it back.

After her shower, she rubbed her body with the same perfumed oil she’d used the first time. That afternoon she had shaved her pussy. She’d also painted her fingernails and toenails bright red. She dried her hair and brushed it until it shone. Finally, she took great care in applying her make-up. Mascara and eye shadow first. Then lipstick the same bright shade of red as her nail polish. Over the lipstick she spread a sheen of gloss.

She felt insecure walking in the extremely high heels, but looking at her image in the mirror, she was startled to see how stunning she looked. Red had always been a good color for her. She’d never owned expensive clothes. They fit her perfectly. It was clear she had nothing on under the skirt or blouse. She noticed how the heels accentuated the slimness of her ankles and the muscular curve of her calves. They also raised her ass and forced her shoulders back.

Standing before the mirror she recalled Travis’s question, “You gonna look real pretty for your black lover?” She had answered, “I’ll try my best.” She decided that she’d succeeded.

Her black raincoat was in the hall closet. She put it on and dialed the number of the taxi service. When she told the driver the address, he hesitated. “I don’t like to go down there,” he said.

“Please, I’m just meeting a friend. You won’t have to wait or anything.” The cab fare was twenty dollars, the last of the three hundred she’d taken from their Christmas fund. She had twenty-five dollars of house money in her purse. It would cost another twenty to get home.

“You sure you going to be OK in there?” The cabbie gestured toward “Jimmy’s Bar and Grill.”

For a moment she thought about asking him to take her back. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

The barroom was large and dark except for red neon signs advertising Budweiser and a few dim lights behind the bar. Smoke swirled in the red glow. The place stunk of stale beer, urine, and cigarette smoke.

It took several minutes for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Four men were playing pool on the far side of the room next to a small dance floor. A number of black tables were scattered randomly around its perimeter. In front of the long bar were twenty or more high-backed barstools. She noticed two black women at a table and two white women at the bar. More than half the stools were taken by men, all black, all turning to look at her as she entered. She realized with a clutch at her heart that Travis wasn’t among them. She stood frightened just inside the entrance.

A tall skinny man slid off his stool and approached her. “You got to be Travis’s woman. That right?”

He towered over her and grinned. Two of his front teeth were missing. His bulging eyes mocked her. “I…I’m just an acquaintance…a friend,” she stammered, taking a step back.

He took her by the arm and led her to the bar, “Yeah, well, Trav he say to keep a lookout for his new white bitch. I figure you’re her.” She felt everyone in the place was staring at her. The men paused in their game. The women appraised her carefully. The men at the bar quit talking and turned toward her. The tall man who still had a tight grip on her arm pointed to a stool. Awkwardly in the heels she climbed up on it. She swallowed trying not to let her voice quiver, “Is he here...I mean Travis…is he coming? He said he’d be here.”

One of the men close to her laughed, “Oh, we expect he’ll be along directly.” He nodded at the tall man, “Hey, Linc, why don’t you help the lady off with her coat?”

Quickly Maureen shook her head, “No…thank you. I’d rather keep it on,” she said, cinching the belt tighter.

Someone down the bar yelled, “We like to see what kind of fresh white meat old Travis got for us.” Everyone, except the women, laughed.