Chapter 1 – The Temptation
I knew it was unethical. I also knew that if Beth and Steve ever found out, I'd not only lose my two best friends, but undoubtedly my girlfriend as well. Regardless of the consequences though, my willpower couldn't hold out. All thoughts of proper moral conduct were brushed aside, as easily as the wave of a hand might shoo away a pesky fly. With a sorrowful farewell, my conscience flittered away and I slowly opened Beth's diary.
My invasion was greeted with a soft crackling sound, the unmistakable utterance of a stiff leather cover opening almost against its will. I quickly turned to the most recent entry, and the smell of fresh ink on paper invaded my nostrils, as if I could learn Beth's most personal thoughts simply by inhaling, rather than reading the graceful script of her polished handwriting. I drew the scent in, tickling my nose hairs, but chose to use sight rather than smell, to study her thoughts.
"June 20, 1997 (Friday) - Steve and I are off to Cancun. I'm so excited! We haven't had a REAL vacation in a long time. I'm a little nervous too, though. I have a few things that I want to get out in the open before we start having fun. I'm optimistic that everything will work out though, and I'm sure it'll be a wonderful trip. Beaches to relax on, Mayan ruins to explore, and a cozy room at a fancy resort to make love in. What more could we ask for? I can't wait! Well, that's all for now. We asked Simon to stay at our place for the week to take care of Rufus. He should be here soon, so I don't have time for a lengthy entry. We should be back on the 28
th
."
As Beth's words explained, they had asked me to house-sit, or rather dog-sit, for them while they were on vacation. Although I'd only moved to the Phoenix area about a year prior to that, I considered them among my closest friends, so I'd agreed without a second thought. However, after holding Beth's diary in my hands, a second thought, as well as third, fourth, and fifth thoughts, were now compounding. The temptation was just too much. If I'd only said "Golly gee whiz, I'm sorry, I have plans. I can't watch your house while you're gone," I would never have been put in the position to betray their trust. Of course, I'd also have sounded like Gomer Pyle, and that probably wouldn't have made me feel much better.
Anyway, after taking Beth and Steve, and enough suitcases to fill up half the cargo space of a Boeing 707 to Sky Harbor International Airport, I returned to their place with my own bag in hand, prepared for a week of minor boredom, combined with the new experience of living with a large, albeit lovable, German Shepherd. Rufus decided to initiate me properly, by waking me early the next morning with a slobbering tongue and some absolutely horrendous breath. Following my failed attempt at ignoring him, I clumsily trailed him to the backdoor and let him out to water the grass. I guess I got bored, because the next thing I knew I was snooping through my best friends' house. I don't know where this perverse curiosity came from. It's not like I'm the kind of person who goes probing through every medicine cabinet that comes within his reach.
When I opened Beth's underwear drawer, the first thing I noticed was that most of her panties and bras were quite modest. Nearly everything was regular white cotton, like something found in a JC Penny catalog. There were a few sexier lacy numbers tucked way in the back, as if she never wore them. For some reason, I was surprised by this. Maybe it was because considering all the suitcases I helped transport, it was astounding to find even one stitch of clothing in the house, much less an almost full underwear drawer. More likely though, it was because Beth is an extraordinarily attractive woman, and would look amazing in anything sold by Victoria's Secret, or Fredrick's of Hollywood. Unsurprisingly, I made the assumption that someone as beautiful as her would naturally wear sexy under-things. My wonderment at this new information was quickly set aside though, at the second thing I noticed -- Beth's journal. As soon as I saw the gold-stenciled word "Diary" across the black faux-leather cover, I put it back where I'd found it, closed the drawer, and sat on the bed staring at the dresser for what seemed like hours. I kept telling myself that going through their stuff was wrong, and reading Beth's diary was practically criminal.
After leaving the room and then returning to gaze at the diary's resting place several more times, I remembered that Rufus was still outside, so I retreated to the backdoor, trying to give that good little angel on my shoulder time to set me straight. After letting the happy-go-lucky drool machine back into the house though, I found myself being drawn back to the bedroom, this time with Rufus shadowing me. I don't even remember opening the dresser drawer, much less pushing Beth's panties aside and retrieving the diary. My next recollection is scratching Rufus behind the ears, as I turned the journal to the red ribbon marking Beth's most recent reflections. After reading the aforementioned entry, I closed the diary again, sat on the edge of the large bed, looked Rufus in the eyes, and apologized for my weakness. He gave me a look only a dog could bestow. With a twinkle in his eyes and a wag of his tail, he as much as told me, "Go ahead! I don't blame you. Tell me if there's anything interesting about me in there." So, with the vivid image of a diminutive trident-wielding devil beating the crap out of a tiny angel, passing briefly before my eyes, I turned to the first page, dated January 1, 1996, the beginning of the previous year.
As I paged through Beth's memories, it became apparent that she didn't make daily entries, but jotted down short comments about events that either delighted her, or annoyed her on any given day. It was evident that most of her gloomy thoughts were work-related, and most of her sunny thoughts were related to Rufus and Steve. I felt obligated to inform Rufus about many of the entries that mentioned him. Although, I deliberately refrained from telling him how upset Beth had been when he'd chewed up her favorite pair of running shoes. I figured there was no point in rubbing his nose in something in which he was undoubtedly already ashamed. Actually, although her words were well written, and often quite amusing, it was a relief to find nothing truly captivating. It would be much more difficult to return the book to its hiding place, if I'd found something scandalous, or mysterious. After paging through it and finding nothing enticing, I knew I could put it away and pretend I'd never seen it.
However, as I closed the book and moved toward the dresser, I was suddenly struck with the same thought Rufus had. It occurred to me, since her diary dated back before we'd become acquainted, that it might be interesting to see if she'd made any observations about me when we'd met. I quickly sat back down and began turning pages until I'd come to some notes dated in June of 1996. After skimming through several uncomplimentary remarks about her mother (apparently related to the constant nagging Beth had to endure for not entering the club of motherhood), I'd found my name.
"June 15, 1996 (Saturday) - Steve dragged me to dinner tonight to meet a friend of his from work, who just moved into town. I really didn't want to go, since I figured I'd end up listening to the two of them discuss work all night, but I must admit, I ended up having a really great time. His friend Simon is very charming, and quite intelligent. He's gorgeous, too. Great derriere! When he left the table to answer the call of nature, I couldn't help but stare at his ass until he turned the corner. I can't recall ever meeting a man who I was so instantly and unquestionably attracted to. It took Steve months of courting to make me open up the way Simon did in only a few hours. I couldn't believe how easy he was to talk to, and how easily I found myself flirting with him, and with Steve sitting right there the whole night!
"I feel terrible though. As soon as we got home, Steve headed for the bedroom, looking really depressed. Obviously he's upset with me for paying too much attention to Simon...and rightly so. I don't know if it's the guilt I'm feeling, or just the image of Simon running through my head, but I can't sleep. I think I'll go wake Steve up with a BJ. I don't do that nearly often enough to satisfy him. Maybe it'll make us both feel better."
