Life with a Nympho Pt. 8. The past resurfaces
"Are you almost ready? We're supposed to meet them in 15 minutes."
As usual, we were in a bit of a rush to get out the door. Maybe if we had less morning sex, it would be possible. But for Kelly and me, that was easier said than done.
I was channel surfing while she finished with her hair and makeup. Sunday morning television is pretty bleak, and I wasn't surprised to come across a telethon begging for money for the disease of the week.
"You know what I'd really like to see?" I said to Kelly as she emerged from our bedroom, looking stunning as usual. "A telethon to raise funds to find a cure for nymphomania."
"Uhh, I thought you enjoyed living with a nymphomaniac," she said feigning outrage.
"Don't get me wrong. I love it. But the eye candy on a nymphomania telethon would be incredible. And I'm highly confident that any cure is decades away, maybe longer. Surely we'll have fucked each other to death by then."
"You can only hope," she said, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing her body up against me.
"Please give generously, so that the forgotten partners of nymphomaniacs can get a moment's peace in the bedroom," I said, mimicking the voice of a telethon host.
"It seems to me it was you you started things this morning. I was the innocent victim when you got on top of me and slipped that big cock of yours inside me."
"Is there such a thing as a male nymphomaniac, or are we just sex fiends?"
"I prefer male sluts," Kelly laughed. "Let me be specific. I prefer the male slut I'm engaged to."
"I'm not sure I'm a slut. I only have sex with you."
"And Jess and Jennifer and Amanda and those two hookers on the yacht...."
"Correction. One was a hooker. The other was a porn star. But I only fuck other women when you're watching."
"You'd better keep it that way."
Kelly's right hand was rubbing my crotch and mine was squeezing her nipple under the low-cut wool crop top she was wearing. As usual, she wasn't wearing a bra, something my friend Brad would certainly appreciate when we joined them in a few minutes. She had on a short brown suede skirt and matching boots. I wasn't sure how his wife Mary would react.
"In case you've forgotten, we have a brunch date," I said. "We'd better get going."
Thankfully Brad and Mary had gotten a day pass from suburbia and parenting duties and were coming to our part of town. They'd planned to drop their girls off with their grandparents and spend the afternoon hanging out with us.
"I'm so happy we were finally able to do this," Mary exclaimed as we joined them in the restaurant. "I can't remember the last time we went to a place that didn't have a kids menu and crayons to colour the placemats."
"I kinda liked the crayons when I was single," I joked.
Mary was looking way hotter than I remembered her. She was never unattractive, but was carrying around a bit of baby weight after having her kids. She also dressed like a soccer mom.
Today, she was wearing tight jeans, black boots, a white t-shirt and a navy blue jacket. She'd clearly been working out and had lost a fair bit of weight — everywhere except in her boobs.
"You're looking great Mary," I found myself saying.
"I had to get in shape or Brad would have left me," she smiled. "Half my mom friends are getting divorced, and the other half are just turning a blind eye to the fact that their husbands are sleeping with younger women."
"Hey, I'm not like that," Brad protested. "And you know damn well that some of those marriages are ending because the wives fucked around!"
"Life is so much more interesting in the suburbs," Kelly observed.
"Unlike the concrete jungle downtown where nobody ever has sex," Brad added. Kelly and I looked at each other knowingly, and the four of us cracked up.
We placed our orders and settled in. Kelly was aware that Brad knew about her past — and her association with Connor — but neither of us were sure he'd told his wife all the details. Either way, there was no awkwardness in the conversation.
"I don't want to rush things, because we haven't even eaten yet," Mary said. "But Kelly, I was wondering if we could break away from these two handsome dudes this afternoon and do a bit of shopping. Brad thinks I need to update my wardrobe and that you could give me some good advice. He even gave me his credit card and told me to go nuts."
Brad gave me a knowing look. He was clearly relishing the idea of Mary 2.0.
"Sure, that would be great. There are a bunch of cool shops around here, and there's always the mall if we can't find anything there."
We heard all about their kids' busy lives — I honestly don't know how they managed to fit in so many dance classes, soccer games and piano lessons — but we also talked about our recent trip to visit my parents, and our plans to get married just after Christmas.
"We'd love it if you guys could make it," Kelly gushed. "I know it might be hard with the girls, but they'd be welcome too, of course."
Mary looked at Brad and smiled. "They treasure their time with their grandparents, and we loved spending time alone in Mexico. We used to go every winter. And truth be told, Maddie was conceived during our last trip."
"Hope you didn't have too much tequila that night," I joked.
"Who needs tequila when you're with this sexy woman on a beach vacation?" Brad said, squeezing Mary's hand.
"Well, let us know," Kelly said. "It's going to be a pretty small affair. So far we just have Tony's parents and a couple we met when we were down there a few months ago."
We'd all had a couple drinks and were in a relaxed mood. The girls excused themselves to begin their shopping expedition. They promised to meet up back at our condo around 3.
"I'm not sure I want to hang out here any longer," I told Brad. "Want to go grab a drink someplace else? Or just go back to the condo for a beer? There might be a ballgame on TV."
"Why don't we just go for a walk," Brad said. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
It sounded a bit ominous, and as it turns out, it was.
"Remember the last time we ran into each other?" he began.
"You mean that time you caught me in a bald-faced lie about being out of town so that I didn't have to raise a glass to my fiancée's abusive ex?"
"That would be it. And no need to apologize. I'm glad you filled me in. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd found out the truth after we had a memorial for him."
"So what's going on now?" I asked.
"You remember I told you we didn't know anything about what happened to Connor, just that he'd died? There was nothing online, and you can't ask for a police report unless you're related. So anyway, a couple of days ago, Connor's sister got in touch with Pete on Facebook."
Pete was the host of the pool party last summer where Kelly and I had met, and the one who'd stayed in closest contact with Connor after we all graduated.
"She said she'd read the police report about her brother's death, and it mentioned that his former girlfriend and a former classmate were there when it happened. It named you and Kelly. She wants to talk to you."
I stopped in my tracks, and I could feel the blood drain from my face.
"This is serious, man. I don't want to talk about it on the street. We live three blocks that way. Let's go and I'll tell you the whole story."
"I'm all ears. I don't think you mentioned that rather important detail when we last talked."
We walked in silence back to the condo. When we arrived, I offered him a beer, and we sat down in the living room.
"Look," I began. "Everything I told you last time is true. I just omitted a few things because I didn't think it was necessary to spill the beans. And quite frankly, it's still somewhat traumatizing for us, especially for Kelly."
"The sister — I think her name is Andrea — said he fell down the stairs at a strip club?"
"That's true. The cops told us later that he was obsessed with Kelly and was hunting her down. He planned to kidnap her, fuck her and then shoot them both. They found the gun and a note in his car."
"Jesus. Pete didn't mention all that when he called me."
"If I were Connor's sister, I'd suppress that part of the story too. Anyway, I promised I'd tell you everything. He found us one night at the Sapphire Club. We were coming up the stairs from the Champagne Room where Kelly had given me a lap dance."
"What the fuck?" Brad asked.
"I'll explain that part in a minute. Connor was hammered — the cops said he was going from club to club searching for her — and when he saw us together, he tried to take a swing at me. I'll never forget the look in his eye. I managed to step aside to avoid his fist, and he fell down the steps, banging his head on the way down. I think he was dead before he hit the landing. If he'd been sober, I'm convinced it would have been me lying in a pool of blood that night."
"Oh my God, man! I see what you mean by traumatizing. So the cops cleared you?"
"Not before they basically accused me of being Kelly's pimp. I suppose that would have been an accurate description of what he was to her, but I wasn't forcing her to dance or taking a dime from her earnings."
"You have to admit it's a bit weird though, right? From what Kelly told us at brunch, you guys went to Mexico in early December and got engaged, and then after Christmas, she's back getting naked for strangers in a bar?"
"You're the only one who knows this, and I really hope you keep it to yourself. Kelly hated having to dance naked six or seven nights a week and then give all her money to that loser. But she actually loves turning guys on her with body. She asked me I was okay with her going back to it a couple nights a week so that she could earn some money for school and contribute to our living expenses. I wasn't about to stand in her way. I'm not that kind of guy."
"And it sounds as if she was offering you a few free dances on the nights she was working."
