Authors note:
My editor (Nonethewiser) recently sent me a very interesting email. Here it is:
So, I am on a 6:30 train from ---- to ---- and I am sitting with an old friend that I met in the station. Guys a very senior real estate executive at a big company. He tells me that two of our mutual friends are getting divorced. In one case the guy cheated and all their friends are saying he's a cheater, a pig, a typical male asshole etc etc. In the other case the guy's wife cheated and the reaction is "she must have been soooo unhappy", "what did he do - he probably neglected her" etc etc
Interesting, no?
This got us thinking. We threw a couple of ideas around, and came up with this short story. It was fun for the both of us. There are a few places this could go (Non Erotic, maybe even Humor/Satire) but we are patrons of the LW hub. We felt that you guys may appreciate it more.
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The country club restaurant was buzzing with the typical low murmur of idle conversations. It was summer, so the outdoor patio tables were available. A light breeze that swept across the area brought the smell of the ocean to mingle with the pleasant scents from the restaurant. Overhead, the melodious sounds of singing birds mixed with the trilling of insects. It was the soundtrack of summer.
This July day should have been hot, but the ocean breeze was lovely and the air was quite comfortable. The view of the beach was perfect. It was a serene tapestry of summer.
Among the patrons were three women, each in their mid-30's. They were very attractively dressed in tasteful, yet sexy, summer clothing. Sleeveless sundresses that showed a hint of cleavage, but not overtly so. Manicured hands and pedicured toes that were displayed by flip flops and sandals. Carefully applied makeup that was almost invisible. But most importantly, gold bands on that tell-tale finger.
These ladies met here at least twice a month. It was a reprieve from their daily tasks of being wives and mothers. It was "their time", not time dedicated to soccer practice, homework, cooking dinner, and performing other tasks that are expected of young wives of successful men. They can come here to let their hair down (metaphorically of course, they would never leave the house with their hair undone), and enjoy a time of good food, good friends and idle chit chat. In other words, gossip.
This group of three was actually two members short. The ladies who were present, Carol, Suzanne, Layla, were sipping on their white wine and waiting for their food to arrive.
"Has anyone heard from Gina? She was supposed to meet us here, wasn't she?" Suzanne asked as she scanned the restaurant. Carol nodded.
"She sent me a text earlier. She said that she was running late. John (her husband) caught some kind of bug. She was making him chicken soup, if you can imagine. You know how men get when they catch a cold. The whole world stops."
"God, men can be such babies! They get a sore throat and want you to wait on them hand and foot. Last month I had the chills, a fever, and a runny nose. I still managed to get Tracy to cheerleading practice, Kenny to his karate class, clean the house, and have dinner ready. When I finally was able to get to bed Mark had the nerve to wake me up and ask me for a little fun time. I swear they want you to be a combination of their mother and their sex slave. Half of the time I wanna tell him to go fuck his mother and cut out the middle man!" Layla said with a smirk. The other two women's mouths opened wide with surprise at their friend's audacity.
"LAYLA!" They cried out in unison. Layla smiled unapologetically and nibbled on a grape from her fruit plate.
"Speaking of men..." Carol's voice lowered in that way that women do when they want you to know that they are about to say is oh so important. She leaned her head forward. "Have either you heard about what's going on with Jen?"
"Yeah! I talked to Gina yesterday." Layla's eyes got wide as she also lowered her voice to just above a whisper, demonstrating that what she had to say was equally -or more important. "Gina said something about Jen and Dave getting divorced, but she didn't go into detail. I asked. Believe me, I asked. But I got the sense that she wished she hadn't brought it up."
Suzanne's voice practically squealed. "Oh my God! Is that why Jen is so sad? I ran into her the other day when she was dropping her kids off at school. She looked like she hadn't slept in ages. She was a mess!"
"Oh my god Suzanne! Stop it!" Layla exclaimed as she lightly slapped Suzanne on the shoulder. Suzanne looked at her with wide eyes as she spoke again. "No, it's true! Her hair was wrapped in some ratty looking bun, and she was wearing sweats and a t-shirt. Poor girl didn't even have a bra on!"
"That's terrible!" Carol said, her tone somewhere between appalled and amused.
All three women were sad for their friend, but at the same time enthralled. How could you not be? This was news. Big news. Huge news. The five of them had known each other for years now. They all lived in the same neighborhood. Their kids played together. Over the years they'd swapped recipes, griped about their husbands, and shared secrets. They thought that they knew everything about one another. To find out such major information that was previously unknown was guaranteed to peak their interests.
CAROL: So, tell us everything Layla? Did Gina say anything more about Jen? She must have said something.
LAYLA: Well, after Gina mentioned it, she got all hush hush about it. I asked what was wrong and she just told me that Jen and Dave were having some issues. I asked what, and she just said that it was bad and they would probably get divorced. That's all she would say. Then she said, "gotta go" and hung up.
SUZANNE: What? Oh my God! She must be devastated! How long have she and Dave been married? Six years? Seven? They haven't even made it a decade yet. He just ups and leaves her with two kids? That bastard. I never liked him.
The conversation was put on hold because the main courses had arrived. The waitress smiled pleasantly as she spread their dishes out in front of them.
"This smells wonderful!" Carol as she tucked her napkin into the cleavage of her dress. With her fork, she shifted her chicken around in the sauce that it was covered in, cut a small piece off, and put it in her mouth. A smile came over her lips as she savored the flavor.
Once the waitress was assured that they were satisfied with their food, she refilled their glasses. With one final inquiry, she pleasantly smiled and left the ladies to enjoy their meal.
"I know that I shouldn't be eating pasta, but the linguine here is my weakness! I always have to spend an extra 30 minutes in the gym after I leave," a self-deprecating Layla said as she wrapped the noodles around on her fork.
"Layla, are you kidding me? You barely have a waist. I'm the one that has to eat salad! I'd blow up like a balloon if I ate all of those carbs!" Suzanne exclaimed as she looked down at her own salad with a mock pout on her face.
"Umm, yeah. You blow up like a balloon, and it goes straight to your tits. What are you, a D cup! Steve only wishes I filled a bra like you do!" Carol said playfully. All three of them laughed.
