“Let’s hit that trail down by the lake.”
They both cycled off down the driveway onto the sidewalk of Dunkirk Crescent. Within a few minutes, Clem and Tara were peddling along the trail to Caribou Lake. The tree-lined bike path was dappled in golden beams of sunlight bursting through the branches and myriad shades of green. Several small deck boats and runabouts were speeding over the water, pulling skiers and tubers. Squeals of delight echoed as moms and their young kids played on the small man-made beach near the ice-cream cart. The scene looked like a photo shoot out of a 1950s edition of
Time-Life magazine
.
As they cycled the picturesque vistas along the north side of the water, Clem started to pedal slower. Tara knew something was up. This just wasn’t normal behavior for Clem – sure, it used to be back in their California days when they cycled the beachfront boardwalk – but not in recent memory. In fact, judging from his cranky moods over the previous few months, this was totally out of character. But
this
was the Clem she missed. This was the guy she wanted back but something wasn’t right about all this.
Clem cycled up to a ridge that overlooked much of Eden Prairie. It was hot now and Tara was struggling to keep up with him. He got off his bike and stared out at the view. Tara pushed her bike up the remaining few yards to join him.
“Wow,” said Tara as she looked out down at the thousands of homes and the large shopping mall that now occupied what was once open prairie just fifty years ago. The lake sparkled in the sunlight as ripples of waves gently lapped up to the sandy shoreline.
“Imagine how great it looked before we built all
that
crap,” Clem said ruefully, pointing at the transmission towers that blighted their view. They stood silently for a moment.
“That’s progress for you,” Tara said, wistfully.
“We need to talk.”
Tara’s heart sunk. Whatever was eating at Clem was about to be divulged.
“About what?” Tara asked innocuously, not wanting their brief moment to be ruined by what she knew was coming next -- the confession she’d been waiting for. Or would this be merely a version of the truth? She held her breath in anticipation.
“If I lose my job, we don’t have a lot of options,” Clem sighed.
Huh?
This wasn’t the conversation she was expecting. Maybe this was Clem’s way of working his way around to the real subject he wanted to talk about.
“What are you talking about? You’re gonna make CEO.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Look, if you lose your job we leave Minnesota and move back to California. What’s so complicated about that?” Tara prompted, feeding Clem’s train of thought and actually rather liking the idea.
“We can’t afford to go back.”
“We’ve got money, Clem. We’re not broke.”
Clem didn’t respond. He stared out at a small deck boat leaving a trail of white water in its trail as it sped across the sparkling lake.
“My point is, the ad biz is in real bad shape. Everyone I know in New York, Chicago and L.A. is getting laid off. These are guys who could’ve hired me a few years ago but they’re gone now. This fucking economy is brutal. Retail is getting its ass kicked and now everyone’s cutting back.”
Tara had not heard Clem speak negatively like this before. He’d always been the eternal optimist, even when he’d come home tired and grumpy, he’d always figured it was for the greater good in the long run. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have with her husband but rather than wait for any kind of personal confession, Tara pressed him for more insight into his work situation. What did Clem know that he wasn’t letting on? She thought.
“So you’re obviously thinking Fitz will make CEO, is that it?”
“Shit, I don’t know anymore. Rebakor is now going with some campaign Fitz presented behind my back. The old man must be in on this.” Clem wasn’t a quitter but he was sounding like a beaten man, figuratively and literally. “I need a knockout punch to win this now because it seems I’m way down on points.”
Tara had never met Kurt Fitzgerald. All she knew about him was what she’d heard over the years from Clem and some of the other employees at Bergenson & Adler when she’d gone to the occasional company event: he was a womanizer and ethically corrupt.
“I don’t think I’d like him if I met him,” said Tara as she watched two quacking ducks fly out of the reeds below. Clem didn’t say anything. “So, anything else you want to tell me?” asked Tara, hoping Clem’s introspective mood might turn the conversation to the topic of her husband’s sexual exploits.
Clem looked at her with a quizzical expression.
“Like what?” he asked. Tara shrugged.
“I don’t know. What else is on your mind?”
“Oh yeah,” Clem answered quickly, snapping out of his mood, “I have a six o’clock meeting in town with Daniel Ellerby on Friday that’ll keep me tied up for a while.”
Tied up?
Tara wasn’t sure if that was a Freudian slip on Clem’s part but that was the day she would be visiting Mistress Krystal’s apartment again.
Shit!
This could be the day of reckoning. Everything was coming to a head.
“And you’ll be tied up for how long?” Tara asked, desperately hoping to sound nonchalant but really pushing for more details.
“Who knows?” Clem looked back out at the view. That irritated Tara. Clem was being vague and she didn’t like it.
“So who’s this ‘Daniel Ellerby’ character?”
“He’s flying in from L.A. Said he wanted to meet me. Very last minute.”
“I’ve never heard you mention
that
name before,” Tara pressed. Clem turned to look at his wife, sensing her unblinking stare.
“He’s a headhunter.” Clem frowned at the apparent grilling Tara was now giving him. And she wasn’t finished.
“Okay, so you’re meeting someone called Daniel Ellerby on Friday night at six. Anything else you want to tell me?” Clem really didn’t appreciate Tara’s tone. He’d wanted a peaceful bike ride on this fine afternoon, not an argument. Clem jabbed back.
“No, Tara. There’s nothing else I want to tell you. Jesus. What’s gotten into you?”
“Y’know what, Clem? You don’t have a monopoly on being pissed off. Other people can be moody, too.”
And with that, Tara put a foot on a pedal and pushed off. Clem stood on the ridge and watched Tara cycle away with no clue what could possibly have set her off like that. As Tara cycled back through the park any empathy for Clem she might have felt at the start of their ride had now evaporated and the anger had returned.
Why was she bothering to save this marriage?
Now he was concocting more stories to cover for his perverse sexual addiction.
Maybe there
was
someone called Daniel Ellerby but that’s not who he was going to meet this Friday. Why would she want to stay married to a man who would go to such lengths to be so deceitful towards her? Tara imagined the scenario playing out in her head of confronting Clem with his sexual indiscretions. He’d either explode or lie. Clem wouldn’t break down and confess, she knew that for sure. Some men, maybe. But no, not mister-manly-man, Clem Drew – professional bullshitter.
Tara pedaled harder and harder. What she did know for sure was that when Clem finally did show up for his next appointment with Mistress Krystal, she’d take over proceedings and give him a beating he’d never forget. That’d teach him a lesson never to lie and cheat on her again. Best of all, Clem would never guess in a million years that it was her all dressed up all vixen-like behind her Catwoman mask. He’d have no idea he’d just paid to have his own wife slap him around. That would be sweet revenge for Tara. Yes, Tara would be in control then. Complete and
utter control
. And whether they stayed married or got divorced would be
her
decision.
That night Tara and Clem didn’t talk. Tara slept in the guest bedroom. Their perfect bike ride had turned sour and left a nasty taste in both their mouths. Dealing with Tara’s increasing moodiness was not Clem’s priority right now. He had to stay focused on work. He knew the reality of him ever finding a job that came anywhere near matching his current salary at Bergensons was extremely remote, even if he left the state and relocated. He was seriously concerned about the future while it seemed to him that Tara’s only worry was what time he would be home on any given night. Through his eyes, she just didn’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of their situation. He was frustrated at work and just as much so at home.
Next morning, after Clem had left for work, Tara left for the gym. With all the money she’d spent at Madame X, she wanted to look as fit and fabulous as she could. That meant being as lean and toned as possible, even if she would only be dressing up for perverts. It served her own ego to look her best.
After her yoga class, Tara was completely shot. She laid on her mat like a wet noodle. Lorraine walked over to her and smiled.
“How’s life treating you, girl?” Tara looked up. “You were good today.”
“I just needed a little motivation.” Tara propped herself up on an elbow and sipped her bottled water.
“Wanna grab a protein shake? I really need to tell you the latest episode with Curtis.”
Tara stood up and wiped the back of her neck with her towel. She didn’t want to get embroiled in another long lunch listening to the various ways Lorraine was going to murder Curtis and dump his lifeless body. And neither did she want or need to hear Lorraine’s warped psychoanalysis of her marriage to Clem. What’s more, Tara knew Lorraine would think she was totally off her rocker if she told her she was learning to become a dominatrix and being taught by the very same woman her husband was secretly seeing. Lorraine simply wouldn’t understand any of it. Anyway, she liked this new feeling of empowerment she was experiencing. She couldn’t wait to get home and play dress up.
As she walked towards her SUV, Lorraine came running after her. “Hey, girl!”
Tara really didn’t want to talk. She got in the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. Lorraine tapped on the window. Tara slid it half open.
“Sorry Lorraine. I’ve got to get going.”
“I just want to apologize -- I get so caught up in
me
sometimes. How’re you and Clem doing? I forgot to ask you.”
“It’s all good now,” Tara lied with a weak smile.
“But that freaky card?” Lorraine frowned.
“Totally bogus. Okay. Gotta go. See you at the next class, okay?” Tara reversed out of her parking space and drove away. Lorraine watched her friend leave, not sure if she’d just be blown off.
Opening the boxes from Madame X, Tara started trying on her new outfit. First, the black lace panties and then the black silk stockings. One benefit of not having any children to breast-feed meant Tara’s size 34c boobs still looked as perky and firm as when she was a twenty-one year old. She clipped the black stockings to her garter belt. Opening another box, Tara took out the black leather bodice that tied at the front. She pulled hard on the lacing, squeezing her breasts together, upwards and out. They bulged over the top of her corset like two perfect orbs trying to escape. But her favorite item was still boxed. She flipped open the lid and inside were the two longest, shiniest black latex boots she’d ever seen in any fashion magazine. She’d had no choice but to buy them. Tara pulled them up over her stockings and just above her knees. They were so tight and so unbelievably shiny that it made her laugh – they looked like insanely kinky pirate boots.
As she posed in front of her bedroom mirror, Tara saw herself metamorphosing but she wasn’t finished yet. Next, came the black latex gloves all the way up to her elbows and finally, a Catwoman mask which covered her eyes and the top of her head with two little pointy ears. Damn! She looked hot and decidedly dangerous.
Transformation complete, Tara postured and posed. She loved how she looked. She felt powerful. She practiced a few kickboxing moves as if fighting off a Ninja attack.
What man could resist her?
Would Clem even recognize her if he walked in on her right now? Not in a million years.
God, what if he did walk in?
How would she explain that? It would be a complete giveaway and Clem would know she was on to him. Fearing that ugly scenario, she quickly peeled herself out of her latex and leather and hid the boxes back under the bed.
At Bodyworks Fitness, Tara signed up for the evening cardio-boxing classes and assumed Clem wouldn’t miss her. So what if he did? She wasn’t concerned about it. Tara was acting like a fighter in training prepping for a title fight. She was more interested in her next lesson with Mistress Krystal that coming Friday than to worry about Clem’s feelings. Maybe it was time he started worrying about
her
for once, she thought. Anyway, she was still punishing him for not being honest with her the day before.
Tara beat the crap out of the heavy punching bag that night. She didn’t know a left hook from an uppercut but that didn’t matter.
Baaam! Baaam! Baaam!
Sweat streamed down her reddened face. Ringlets of her hair stuck to her forehead as she vented all the bottled up rage inside her. Push-ups, sit-ups and jumping jacks for the next hour left her in a hot, sweaty, sticky mess. She felt tired but she felt strong.
By the time Tara finally got home, it was a familiar scene. Clem had fallen asleep in front of the TV, an empty bottle of wine beside him. Perfect. She could sneak up to bed without having to talk to him.
CHAPTER 12
It was Friday. This was to be the day of reckoning. Tara knew how to find her way to the back entrance of Mistress Krystal’s apartment from Starbucks but chose to park a lot closer this time; on a quiet side street where she wouldn’t be towed. Clem might recognize her black Lexus SUV if she was too close to the apartment building so she gave herself a short walk. Tara wanted to be incognito walking up the iron stairwell to Mistress Krystal’s back door. Though wearing dark glasses with her jacket collar pulled up hiding much of her face probably made her look far more conspicuous than inconspicuous.