Chapter 3
Margie & Vince
That same evening, Margie relented to some of Vince's demands and allowed herself to be bound to the bed again and didn't resist the blindfold when it was introduced.
"It will heighten things," Vince said vaguely.
"What things?" Margie said, "We're going to have sex, right?"
"Right, honey, but it all adds to the...."
"It adds to what?"
"To the... um, thrill of it all. It makes things more exciting."
"More exciting?"
Feeling that he was on a roll, Vince continued. "Yeah, sweetie, I mean we can do all sorts of things..."
"Name two," she said, getting tired of his game.
"Um, we could pretend it isn't me doing things to you. Suppose it was another guy?"
"Another guy? You're going to bring another guy in here when I'm tied up? I'll cut your balls off!"
"No, no! Marge. A pretend guy. I mean wouldn't it be different if... we do it all the time. Doesn't it seem like the same old same old to you after a while?"
"I happen to like the same old, same old as you call it."
"I don't think you understand what I'm saying," Vince protested.
Margie's thoughts drifted away to that afternoon's lovemaking with Tessa. Her loins dampened and she felt a need for Vince to put himself between her legs.
"I'm tied up here and I can't see a thing, Vince. You going to jump my bones or what?"
Vince decided to go for it. He didn't answer her but walked away and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
"Vince! Did you leave me?"
He stood outside the bedroom fighting the need to answer her.
Margie grew panicky. Did he have the nerve to leave her tied to the bed like this?
Did he know about her and Tessa?
She began to sweat, and then she thought she heard him on the phone. Who was he calling? Why would he be calling anyone?
He wouldn't have the nerve; he wouldn't dare bring some guy in and watch him rape her. He wouldn't... would he?
She heard the bedroom door open. "Who was that on the telephone?"
"No one you know, Marge."
"But you called someone, I distinctly heard you talking to someone."
"I did call someone. Don't get upset Marge, it won't do you any good."
"Don't get upset! Let me out of these god damn cuffs right now!"
"Can't do that, Margie."
"You'd better do it or you'll regret it the rest of your miserable life!"
"It should be a couple minutes yet, Marge."
"A couple minutes for what?" Her voice rose in volume and pitch. "You called some guy... you've called someone over here to see me like this!"
"Excuse me a minute, Marge. I gotta see if he's here."
"You fucking maggot; lemme off this bed! Lemme loose you cocksucker!" I'll kill you; I swear I'll put a knife between your ribs!"
Vince was sweating now. Have I crossed the line and gone too far? Jesus, I hope not, it would mean the end of our marriage.
He went about disguising himself as best he could, following a plan he had spent the last two days formulating. He gargled with a cheap rye whiskey, rubbed a greasy solvent on his forearms that he hoped would cause his wife to think of a mechanic at the garage. And as the last touch he donned a pair of coveralls and then a rubber mask bearing a likeness of Richard Nixon.
Using his own voice, he said, "She's waiting for you... in there."
Margie, already fearing the worst called out, "Vince... don't you dare! I'm warning you!"
Vince stuffed his mouth with cotton, hoping it would modify his voice enough to confuse Margie even more. Still, he wasn't sure if he would speak at all during the sex about to take place. He picked up the camera and walked into the room, took several pictures of his wife lying spread-eagled on the bed, blindfold in place, and smiled as the shutter whirled almost soundlessly as advertised.
"Vince?"
"Sorry," he said attempting to add gruffness to his voice, and for the most part succeeding because of Margie's fear that he had brought someone else into their bedroom.
Breathing heavily, Vince ambled over to the bed and rested a knee on it, signaling his arrival to Margie.
"NO! VINCE, NO!"
He ran a hand along her calf up to the top of her knee and stopped.
"Jesus Christ, Vince... Don't do it! For the love of God, don't let him near me!"
Too late to stop now, he told himself and ran the edge of his hand over her mound.
Margie screamed. She was actually terrified of being raped and started to pray. "Holy Mary, protect me from evil...."
Vince couldn't stand tormenting her any longer and tearing the cotton from his mouth, whispered, "It's Vince, honey. It's always been me. There is no other guy..." To support his words he removed the blindfold it and watched as her eyes widened in recognition.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" Had her hands not been cuffed to the bed she would have thrown as many punches at him as were possible before he restrained her. As it was she hurt her wrists and would feel pain in them for almost a week.
"You miserable son-of-a-bitch! She exclaimed again as relief washed over her. She was not going to be raped. He was a fucking fool, but she wasn't going to be raped by some smelly stranger.
"Why? Why Vince?" Her voice softened, and for the first time since removing the blindfold, he felt she might forgive him.
"I don't know," he began. "I guess I wanted to add something to our lovemaking.
"You wanted to add..." but then she thought of how she and Tessa had added something and stopped.
"See, Margie, you always go on about not wanting to do this, or try that. You have a thing about doing it the same way all the time. I was hoping to put some variation into the sex, you know?"
She hasn't demanded that I let her loose, he thought. Is that a good sign, or not?
"You want... variation?"
"Yeah... variation."
"Like what? I let you tie me up and blindfold me. Isn't that variation?"
"It's a start."
"It's a start? Well, where does it end?"