Authors: Bonnie Wheeler
Adjusting his balls, Brian’s dick was hard from fantasizing. Despite the bottle of whiskey he emptied, he still managed to get it up. The porn he was watching earlier was hot. There wasn’t much of a storyline but he was just about to cum when his damn wife walked in. He hadn’t been caught masturbating since he was sixteen. No wonder her face was shocked, the two of them hadn’t fooled around in years and
there he was, dick out and going at it in the fucking living room.
Closing his eyes, Brian leaned back in seat. His hand cuffed his groin, giving it a light squeeze. The pressure got him stirring and he didn’t want to ignore how good it felt. Thinking about laying one out right there crossed his mind, but there were too many damn kids on the streets. The last thing he needed was for one of his nosy fucking neighbors to accuse him of jerking off to little children in costumes.
He would go see Daisy if he knew where she lived. That, or call on one of the other women in town who were content in their marriages but needed a good lay when their husbands weren’t around. Those fucks weren’t usually that great though – the guilt those women carried kept them from doing anything but missionary style in the back of their minivans. When it was done, they looked at him like he was the dirtiest douchebag they ever met, even if he did blow their minds.
Taking a deep breath, Brian ignored the pain building in his skull. His head throbbed but not as bad as his cock. If he didn’t find a woman to finish him off, he would have to go back home and rewind his porn. Sliding the SUV into reverse, he glanced in the rearview mirror. As if by divine intervention, there stood Marge Finch, in her tight ass blue
jeans, squinting at the front of his house while bathed in the Cadillac’s rearview lights.
“Oh hell, yeah.”
Although their time together was coming to a close, one last night was worth a bang.
44
MARGE
Friday 6:57 PM
Stepping forward, Marge tried adjusting her eyes to the dim lighting. After hours of crying and being ignored by Katie, her puffy lids burned. The remnants of her grief left streaks of Cover Girl mascara dotting her cheekbones, but she didn’t care. Grasping for a tissue, she dabbed what was left of
her tears and blew her nose. The evening would end on a high note. She vowed no more crying and no more waiting. Her life with Brian was about to begin, and she was born ready to be the new preacher’s wife.
Once she realized it was Brian climbing out of the Cadillac, her heart began thumping wildly in her chest. She had pictured arriving at the door to be greeted by Angela, not her lover. Marge needed a few minutes with Brian’s wife without him intervening. All evening she had been psyching herself up for it – ready to fight for her man, imagining the look that would cross Angela’s face and the words she would use in the exchange.
It was clear to her that Brian, although in love with Marge for quite some time, felt beholden to Angela and was hesitant about ending the marriage. What other reason could he have? But Marge knew that Angela no longer belonged at his side. The woman had to go and Marge was ready to make her listen.
That bitch doesn’t want Brian. Angela just wants the life he gives her.
No matter what life Brian felt responsible for giving Angela, it was nothing like the one he could have with Marge. Their last three months together were the closest thing to heaven that Marge ever experienced, and from the pleasure
she routinely gave Brian, it was monumental for him as well. For the first time in her life, she felt wanted and desired, and could see
herself
married to Brian Jones. The life was hers for the taking, no matter what anyone else thought. Brian may not have been strong enough to make the break from Angela last night, but Marge was up for handling the task.
The plan was simple. Persuade Angela to leave quietly on her own, or come back with the gun. She almost brought it – almost stuck the firearm under the seat of the car, but ended up leaving it at home. The
Ruger
was still hidden in her lunch tote. Katie sat right down on the couch practically on top of it where Marge left it when she came home from work. If she asked Katie to pass it over, her daughter may have questioned what was inside. Marge wasn’t going to risk having Katie get all judgmental, not after her threat to move.
It wasn’t an easy decision to steal the gun. Veronica would fire her ass if caught, but after Williston’s demand – Marge knew she had to be bold and stop pussyfooting around. If Angela refused to listen to reason and had the gall to threaten Marge again – she would find herself on the receiving end of threats.
Marge wouldn’t shoot her; she wouldn’t even aim it at the bitch although nothing would give her more pleasure than sticking the barrel in the woman’s big mouth. That was crazy
talk and although Marge had been drinking for a good part of the day, she hadn’t lost that much common sense. No, she would just let Angela see that she had it and demand that the woman no longer interfere with Marge’s plans. One glimpse of the weapon would be enough for Angela to understand – if it came to that.
Now that she was here, her feet felt oddly stuck to the driveway. How could she confront his wife with Brian standing right there? A quick survey of the cars told her that Angela’s green station wagon was missing. A red BMW was parked on the street, but it could have belonged to trick-or-treaters. Without house lights on, she assumed Brian was home alone – perhaps Angela was out with Rachel for the evening.
So much for my final threat...I guess it can wait ‘till later.
Brian was usually agile, but as he straightened himself upon standing, he teetered to the side. Quickly catching himself, he motioned for Marge to come closer.
As she approached him, one eyebrow rose. Whisky and Davidoff wafted off her lover, a scent she wasn’t accustomed to smelling on him. She and Brian liked to drink together when they had sex, but finding him already drunk was a first.
Draping his arms around her, his lips brushed the side of her ear. “Baby, I was just thinking of you,” he slurred.
A smile pulled at her lips, she loved it when he called her that. “So, you’re talking to me now?”
“I was just playing earlier,” he cooed, “building the tension.”
Taking her hand, Brian led her out behind the rear of the house. In the darkness and surrounded by trees, neighbors couldn’t spy. Instantly, he pressed her against the side of the building, his mouth crushing down on hers. Moving against him, Marge was stunned with his urgency. Already his body was hard and responding to hers.
Someone missed me today.
“I am frozen out here. Can we go inside?” she asked, hoping to get beyond the foyer and see what it was like. Maybe live out her fantasy and screw on his bed.
Ignoring her, Brian rammed his tongue in her ear; his breath was hot on her skin. Pulling free, she turned to meet him mouth with her own, preferring he kiss her lips instead. His hands raked her body, forcing their way up her blouse until they slipped under her bra and cupped her breast. Forcibly he tugged at her nipples, causing her to squirm against him.
After a few seconds, she tried again. “Really, it’s too cold to do it out here. Why don’t we go in the house?”
Brian nipped at her chin, working his way down her neck. “I want you so badly. Tell me you want me, too.” His mouth was back on hers, pushing her lips apart with the force of his tongue.
“Of course I do,” she said, gasping for air. “I love you.”
“
Shhh
…” he whispered, putting his fingers to her mouth. “For Christ’s sake, don’t ruin this by talking.”
Slapping his hand away, Marge stared up at her lover. Angered by his refusal to listen to her, his lack of consideration was bringing back her bad mood. “Don’t tell me to stop talking. I said I’m freezing out here and I told you I love you because I want you to say it back.”
“Say what?” he asked, annoyed. His hands pulled at the waist of her blue jeans, trying to undo her belt. The button on his own trousers was unfastened, he wanted her now.
“That you love me.”
Brian froze. Stepping back, he ran his hands through his hair, exhaling loudly. Marge could tell from the strain on his face, that he desired her. Brian’s constant sexual need was unmatched. It thrilled her to keep up with him.
“Angie will be home soon, so I can’t take you in the house. If you can’t fuck out here, we’ll have to go to your place.” With that, her lover zipped up his fly before turning to head toward the front of the house, leaving Marge to make a decision.
Pulling her blouse down, she rubbed the chill off her bare arms. She wasn’t used to Brian being forceful, but was willing to look past it. Going a whole day without him taking her calls had left her feeling vulnerable and on edge. Her fight with Katie just made matters worse. Having him come back to her place wouldn’t be a bad thing. Once in her room, she could get him to relax and remember why they were meant to be together.
Why he needs me more than he thinks.
“Make up your mind. I need to be out of here before Angie gets home,” he snapped. Gone was the seducing tone he used earlier. His booze was talking; she had enough experience with liquor to know that.
“I’m coming,” she sang, hoping to calm him. “A party back at my place sounds perfect.”
As she rounded the corner, he was standing there waiting. Although impatient, he still held the look of heat in his eyes. Running her fingers lightly down his chest, she bit down on
her lower lip suggestively. “I have a bottle of vodka and a scratch only you can itch.”
“Well, let’s get going then,” he grinned.
45
KATIE
Friday 8:15 PM
Climbing out the second story window in her bare feet, Katie stepped carefully until she made her way to the edge of the roof. With her pumps in one hand and her clutch purse in the other, she lowered herself to a sitting position without dislodging the shingles or rain gutter. Under the safety of the stars, she searched for a sense of calm.
Agreeing to go to Davey’s party seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she wondered why she allowed Darla to talk her into it. She may have had a killer outfit, but the mood
to party with the same kids she had known since kindergarten didn’t appeal. Her life was messed up and after fighting with her mother, Katie felt too numb to force a smile.
Through the opening, sounds of laughter swirled with the scent of marijuana and beer. An old song by People in Planes blasted from downstairs. Bass pumped through the sound system, vibrating the floor. It was early; most of the crowd wouldn’t be heading over until after nine. But no matter where Katie went, it was always the same thing. Girls who made it their mission to hate on Katie were giving her caustic looks while the boys with the sole mission to get in her pants were offering her booze.