On Sunday, Emma really
was
fidgety. Peter and Derek left before 8:00 since they had an early tee time. As he was getting into his car, Derek had winked at her, and she hoped that he could draw her husband out and help her make sense of the mess her life was in.
Peter was getting her increasingly upset. Why couldn't he just
loosen up
? I mean from what she'd read on the Internet and heard around, it was usually the wives who were uptight about sex. Didn't he want to have a wife who was adventurous and willing to do nearly anything to please him? Wasn't that every man's wet dream?
Maybe Derek could coax him into a little boy talk on the golf course.
Giving up the day as lost, she went to the movies that afternoon to watch a something that Peter, or Derek, for that matter, wouldn't want to see in a million years. At least it might take her mind off her current problems.
When she returned, she found Peter and Derek on the back deck, thick as thieves. Emma's heart leaped that maybe some progress had been made. Now that her libido had been unlocked, she was unwilling to put it back in its little box where it had been relegated for so many years. The pretty 34-year-old had never felt so alive.
As she joined the men, they greeted her enthusiastically, both probably having consumed a number of beers already.
"Now isn't Emma just the most beautiful, sylph-like creature you've ever seen?" Derek said expansively.
"Yes," Peter slurred. "I have a very fine-looking wife."
"I hope you don't mind me saying it," Derek answered leaning over as if talking only to Peter, "but I'll just bet she's a real tigress in bed."
Emma couldn't help it, she almost choked on her beer. What the heck was Derek up to?
"I give her all she can handle," Peter said waving in her direction vaguely.
Only Derek's hand motioning under the table kept Emma from voicing her strenuous objections. Was this really the way Peter saw things?
"Would you like some dinner, guys?" she asked, unable to sit still.
"Sure," Peter said.
"Would you like some help?" Derek asked.
Emma was nearly beside herself as she entered the house with Derek as Peter called for more beer. "Do you want to know what happened last night?"
"From your tone, not much, but I didn't say it would be an easy, short road."
"Did you find out anything today?"
"Your husband is very confused. He had thought you were one way and now he's finding that you're another. He doesn't know how to deal with it. In his mind you're supposed to be the dutiful little wife, a decoration on his watch chain."
"Well, isn't that 17th Century!"
"We talked a lot today. It may bear fruit."
"What did you talk about?"
"I promised I wouldn't say anything, and I honor those promises. I wouldn't breach your confidences and I won't breach Peter's."
Emma scowled. "All right, be that way," she hissed. "Go outside while I'm doing the dutiful little wifey thing here, getting the men folks' dinner ready." When Derek didn't move right away she pushed him towards the door. "Leave!"
"I'm just trying to help you."
"Well, you're not doing a very good job, are you?" Emma snapped and pointedly turned her back on him.
Outside she heard her husband chuckling about "modern women".
She kept her temper in check all through dinner and went in early to read in bed. When she heard Peter coming into the house, she switched off the light and pretended to be asleep. He climbed into bed without his usual shorts and cuddled up behind her, his pecker poking into her rear end. She did nothing.
It was his turn to go to bed frustrated.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Peter was naturally in a bad mood the next morning and barely spoke as he ate his breakfast. Emma longed to sit down and have a talk with him, a real talk, about them. She really felt it was time. As he left, Peter grunted something about possibly having to work late. She didn't even get his usual peck on the cheek.
After that, she went out for a very long run, trying to work out her frustration with some punishment to her body. If anyone had asked, she wouldn't have been able to tell them the route she'd taken, her brain had been in such high gear.
In a few short weeks, her life had changed completely. In early June, she'd been a happy school teacher. Her 2nd Grade charges all loved her, and their parents did, too. She didn't have any real friends at work. That was all due pretty well due to the shyness thing. At least she still had that to go back to in a couple of weeks, and this year, she'd try her best to make some friends. Right now, it would be very good to have some female perspective on everything that was going on.
At home, Emma couldn't say that she'd been particularly happy for the past five years, but she hadn't been particularly unhappy, either. She saw now that she'd been waiting for something. Peter was basically a good man, but he was stiff, unimaginative and clearly saw himself as the boss in his marriage. Had he never heard that marriage is a partnership? She'd been too shy, too unsure of herself to be able to bring up "sticky" subjects. The few times she had begun discussions of things about their marriage that were important to her, she'd either gotten a condescending pat on the head, or Peter had yelled at her. Thinking back, that's the same exact relationship his parents had. Basically, she'd married Peter's father.
Back at home, she toyed with the idea of bringing herself off in the shower. But having a bit of edge was good for what she wanted to do next: a bit of shopping, but shopping with a difference and it would require a fair dose of her new courage.
Late in the afternoon, Emma's last stop was at the supermarket. She was there partly because she needed to pick up a few things for dinner, and partly to try an experiment.
Anyone who knew her would have done a double take. In fact, she carefully noted that a lot of people she
didn't
know did a double take, and they were all male.
Emma was wearing some of her new purchases. Her jeans were skin tight, the kind that take a few minutes to wiggle into. They could have been made with her body in mind. The sales woman had convinced her to buy the kind that had no back pockets because they would "accentuate your very fine assets back there". On her feet, she had sandal-like shoes with 3-inch heels. Two months ago, she would have called her top "immodest". It was white, dangerously sheer, and hugged her breasts. It also showed a fair bit of her cleavage since the front part wrapped behind her neck. Her back was almost totally exposed. Oh, and of course she couldn't wear a bra.
She'd also stopped at the hairdresser and the result was a slightly more shaggy look to her hair with some lighter blonde highlights. It was all done in a very understated way, but it required more courage than anything she'd done that day. She could always hide the clothes, but Peter would immediately see what she'd done to her hair. The finishing touch was a fair bit of make-up applied by the hairdresser.
"Honey," the hairdresser had said as Emma left the shop, "you look like a movie star."
As the seriously sexy-looking woman made her way around the supermarket, she noticed that she'd developed a following: all of them male and all of them trying to look casual about what they were doing. She even caused a three-cart pileup in the meat section.
Her nerves started kicking in as she got closer to home. Of course she couldn't be dressed like this when Peter arrived. Clothes like these and the others she'd purchased would have to be introduced slowly and would probably cause some friction. This was the most outrageous of them, though. The others were clothes she could wear on the rare occasions she went out, and most could also be worn to work without crossing any lines, but they were all sexier than anything she had in her closet.
By the time Peter got home at 7:30 (late without calling), the only evidence of Emma's makeover was her hair and a new pair of shorts, a little tighter and a little shorter. She'd chickened out on anything more.
Peter noticed her hair immediately and was not happy. "Makes you look like a tart!" he snapped. She felt as if he'd slapped her. The new style really looked terrific and it wasn't even close to making her look cheap. If anything, Emma felt it made her look more sophisticated.
That night, Derek entertained another of his women and listening to the goings on made Emma miserable. Around midnight, she couldn't take it anymore and slipped out of bed. In the bathroom, she used some hand lotion to bring herself off. It was hard and fast and really not all that satisfying, but it did allow her to get to sleep.
Next morning, Peter announced that he'd have to travel east to head office for a meeting.
"How long will you be gone?"
"Probably three days, maybe four."
"But this is my last week before school begins. Next Monday, the meetings start. I was hoping I might talk you into going off for a long weekend. You have some days off you've never used."
"This is an important meeting. I think I'm going to be offered a promotion. That means we could move to New York!"
"What about my job? I like my school!"
He patted her head. "They have lots of schools in New York, Emma, and I'm sure they need teachers. Besides, this will mean a raise. You probably won't have to work."
With that, he went upstairs to pack. When she heard Peter bumping down the stairs with his bag, she grabbed her car keys and waited by the door.
"No need for you to drive me. I have to stop by the office to pick up some things and I'll drive myself to the airport." He kissed her cheek. "Wish me luck! I'll call you when I have some news. Keep your fingers crossed, Emma."
He drove off. Emma went out on the back deck and cried.
When Derek stuck his head around the fence, she didn't notice, so he asked, "Anything I can do to help?"
Emma didn't even look up. "No. Go away!"
He swung around to the Richard's deck. "Tell me what's wrong, Emma," he said, sitting down next to her.
She ignored him for a while longer, then decided that she needed to talk to someone about it. Emma told him everything.
"So there's going to be no discussion about the possible move?" he asked.
She shook her head sadly. "He seems to think that I'm as eager to leave as he is."
"New York isn't as bad as all that."
"It's not New York that has me so upset, it's the fact that what I want doesn't matter. It's always all about him! He's not going to change -- ever. I'm just another object to him, like his car or his golf clubs."
"Will you excuse me for a moment, Emma?" Derek asked.
Taking out his cell phone, he walked down the yard, talking to someone and nodding. The call was brief, and he walked back onto the deck.
