"I would trim that one rather than take it down."
"Okay, that sounds good."
"I'll have the estimate emailed to you by tomorrow morning."
"Great." He paused. "Come have a beer with me."
"I need to--"
"Please?"
David tightened his grip on the clipboard. He nodded and followed Noah's father into the house.
Mitch brought him a bottle and held his out until David touched his to it.
"To love," Mitch said.
Fuck that, David thought.
They sat in the living room. The house was quiet.
"Let me tell you a story," Mitch said.
David started to get up. "Look, I really can't talk about--"
"Stay, please." Mitch implored. "I want to talk about me."
David paused, then sat back. The beer was cold and good. One beer, he thought. Then I slip out.
"Rose cheated on me. Two years ago, at her work."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know."
Mitch shrugged. "I figured maybe Noah had told Shelly and Shelly had told--. You know they are having sex, right?"
David nodded. "I'd be suspicious if they weren't. She promises they are always safe. And I can see that Naoh respects her. I'm okay with them."
"One of the women who work in the office called me," Mitch said, "and told me Rose was having an affair. She was doing it in empty houses the agency was showing. She gave me a list of houses and I drove around until I saw her car. I walked in, and there they were on the carpet, pounding away. I let them see me, then I walked out and drove home. My mind was red. If I had been carrying a gun, they would have been dead. Know what I mean?"
"I do," David said carefully.
"She came home eventually. Crying, clothes all messed up. It was a mistake, she said, she didn't love him. She only loved me and the kids. I waited until she was cried out and asked her if she wanted a divorce. She started to sob. She only ever loved me. Et cetera."
"I had time while I was waiting for her to come home," Mitch continued, "sitting here -- right here, as a matter of fact -- to cool down and think about it. I didn't want to be married to someone I could not trust. I told her that what we had was dead. She lost it altogether then. I remember thinking that she was either sincere, in which case she was deluded, or she was the best actress I had ever seen. I told her that if she wanted to stay in this house and be a mother to her children and -- this was the important part to her -- ensure that they would never find out what she had done, that things were going to change."
David found that he had finished his beer. He put the bottle down but made no motion to leave.
"I hadn't the slightest clue what I was doing. It was all bluff. I waited until the next day, having kicked her out of our bedroom, to give her my new rules. I figured that in the light of day she would probably get her cheating face back on, deny and rationalize all her actions. In that case, we were done. But she still was distraught. She wanted her family to stay together. She wanted me back. She wanted to tell me why. I told her to shut up. It didn't matter why."
David leaned forward. "But how do you get past seeing another cock inside your wife?"
"Exactly," Mitch said. "That is a big fucking mental hurdle to overcome. I had stayed up most of the night thinking, and here is what I proposed. I gave her the list of tasks to do. I told her that if she did not do them all immediately, she was out. If she objected to any of them, she was out. She agreed, and I gave her the list. One, cut all contact with the guy. Two, quit her job. Three, tell his wife every detail. Four, write down a chronology of when, where, and how they met and exactly what they had done. Five, give me all access to her online accounts."
"Wow."
"I know. I was 50/50 that she would read the list and say no and that would actually make it easier for me. But she did every one without a word of protest. I made her sleep in the guest room for two months. We went to counseling. We talked it out every night. I watched her closely for any sign of rebellion, and I asked her every day if we still had a deal. After two months, I let her come back into my bed. And I started my program."
Mitch jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "You should have seen the story she wrote down. Vivid details. I almost heaved a couple of times reading it. But it guided me in my reclamation project. I took the confession and sat her down to go over a few items.... Are you okay with this?"
"I am if you are," said David.
"Good. I asked: did he put his cock in your ass? She says no, so beginning that night, I fuck her in the ass. We had never done that before. I had put a fingertip up once or twice as she was riding me, but man. I could tell that hole was virgin."
David felt his color rise. He looked away, out the window.
"Now I take it whenever I want it. Other things, too. He had never been dominating with her. So I started tying her up and spanking her. Hard."
"You don't have to--" David protested.
Mitch smiled. "She fucking loved it. Still does. Likes to be tied to the bed, blindfolded, with a ball gag, and pounded as hard as I can physically pound. I have fucked her on the balcony out front where anyone could be watching. Sometimes when I am really putting it to her, I yell WHO'S PUSSY IS THIS? and she tells me it is mine, all mine."
David needed another beer. The room was warm. The next time he ran into Rose was going to be interesting.
Mitch licked his lips and fetched them each another bottle. "Moral of the story is. The relationship we had died the day I saw her on the carpet. I built a new one based on my controlling her cunt, using it for my own pleasure and making sure she knows I don't give a fuck if she ever finds pleasure again. That was rule six. Am I cruel and hateful? Ask Rose that when she is convulsing and squirting out of her mind. And the toys I have collected --"
"That's okay," David said hoarsely. "Maybe another time."
**********
"We're like the Scooby Gang but we solve sex problems instead of ghost problems," Tommy said.
"We haven't solved shit yet," said Shelly. "Sorry, Gran."
Their grandmother paused her slicing of the banana bread, serrated knife hovering over the brown mass. "For what, dear?"
"For cursing."
She sighed, put down the knife, and stood up. "If we are going to talk frankly about human sexual response --" She held up a hand to stop Tommy, who had opened his mouth. "-- and yes, Tommy, I know that would make a good band name. I went to see them at the Rat back in the day and I slam danced in the mosh pit."
She crossed her front room to a bookcase and brought a large book back to the table. The cover read Visions of Woodstock.
"The girls have looked through this before. They never made the connection."
She opened the book to a large color photograph of a young blonde girl dancing in the middle of a circle of other rather scruffy young people seated haphazardly about. Most of them were gazing at the girl with amusement or admiration or amazement.
The young girl was naked, her long blonde hair over but showing her breasts as it flowed with her movement. Her bush was thick and equally as blonde. She was lithe and muscular and in a rapture of happiness. She was fucking beautiful.
And she was vaguely familiar. Then she was totally familiar.
"Holy shit!" cried Shelly.
"Gran," Erin gasped. "That's --"
"That's right, dear. So don't be afraid to speak frankly in front of me. As you can see, I have been there and I have done that."
"So many questions," whispered Noah quietly, as though he had not meant to say that out loud.
She looked at the boys, who actually colored with embarrassment. "Since you have now seen my twat, you can call me Lucille, or Lucy. Your choice. And don't even consider taking a photo of this. I was fifteen years old. You do not want that on your phone."
She returned the book to its place and resumed slicing the banana bread. "Now then, where were we?"
