IMG_5608.jpg

Neither Melissa nor Eric show for dinner and I’ve had an uneasy feeling ever since. Eric crept in late, around 9:30 p.m. and we have been at odds, tiptoeing around the subject. I hated leaving without resolving things between us, but this trip couldn’t wait.

 

I was hoping for the three of us to get together and talk things out before the weekend, but Melissa refused to see me again and stopped responding to my messages.  My parents invited me and Eric to spend a few days with them in Miami, but Eric couldn’t get away on short notice.

 

I cut our visit short, though, heading back home two days early. I’ve had some time to think it over and I realize I just want our simple life back. We don’t need anyone else in the picture, although I can’t deny my attraction to Melissa.

 

That night  opened a door that is better off kept closed. The potential complications of sexual freedom in our marriage are just not worth it. I order another cocktail and ease the seat back, looking forward to going home.


 

What I discover at the house is such a cliche’, like a scene from a bad movie: The kitchen is dirty, dishes piled high in the sink, empty merlot bottles on the counter. Two dinner plates stuck with dried food, balled up napkins, breadcrumbs and used wineglasses litter the dining table.

 

I notice the pile of his and hers disheveled clothes mingled in a heap on the living room floor and I can hardly hear myself think over the drone of sexy saxaphone drifting down the hallway. I catch the scent of her perfume before I even hit the doorway of our bedroom.

 

They don’t notice me at first…he, sprawled nude in the middle of our bed, eyes closed– with her, huddled naked between his legs, working him nervously in her little fist, eagerly watching his face for a reaction.

 

“Is this right? Do you like this?”

 

“Uh-huh, keep going…”

 

He gasps when he sees me and she looks up wincing, then scrambles off the bed like a shot, retreating to the corner of the room. I relish the vulnerability of her situation, caught red-handed, so to speak.

 

“Not so fast, little lady…” I grab her slender wrist as she makes her way toward the safety of the hallway.

 

“Stacey, let her go. This is all my fault.”

 

“No, Eric, I think you should go.”

 

To be continued…

Advertisements