Getcha Little Somethin

"Zabba zabba swee ba zabba dee da doo now!"

Tom Waits is an acquired taste. His gravelly vocal technique is to Bob Dylan as Dylan's is to Sinatra. His lyrics are edgy, seedy, profane and often pornographic. But if you listen carefully and get beyond the voice you hear the incredible music and sheer poetry of the lyrics, the hall mark of true art songs since the golden days of German lieder in the 19th century. Those of you who have heard Waits music either love it or hate it, there is no middle ground. I love it. My wife hates it. Right now I had chosen to put one of my favorite albums on, and give it a Saturday morning listen. I always listen to music at live volumes, whether through speakers, headphones or, well, live! However Saturday mornings are our traditional rest times. No activities planned, no chores, just calm alone time. It was 7:00 am, and I was cranking tunes that she didn't like, that was enough to get her attention.

But I was cooking too. I was cooking my favorite breakfast, linguica, huevos rancheros, and toast made with Wonder bread. My wife disliked linguica, a hearty Portuguese sausage, as much as I liked it. Tomatoes in eggs made her nauseous just looking at it, and in our healthy life style, plain white bread, especially the sweet pure white Wonder, was taboo. A large glass of prune juice (another despised flavor) and (sin of sins) weak decaf coffee in the pot made the repast complete. The heat was down, the windows open, with a nice smoky fire in the hearth, all calculated to hit some of her many pet peeves.

She made her shivering, scowling appearance, turned down the stereo, closed some windows, and made a great show of using an inhaler as she reopened them realizing just how much the scent of the somewhat green hickory firewood was leaving in the house.

"What the hell is this!?" She bellowed. "You know Saturday morning is always quiet time."

"Well yes dear, it has been, but I thought it time for..."

She jumped in before I finished, "And what the hell are you making us for breakfast!?"

"Well dear, its been a while since I had...."

"SHUT UP!" Veins were sticking out of her neck. "And what's with windows open, heat down and a fire in the fireplace when you know the damn chimney needs to be cleaned. Are you trying to kill me? You know I have asthma problems in smoke! And damn it is freezing in here! My plants and fish will die!"

She took great pride in "her" houseplants, though it was me who tended them. She took great pride in her fish too. I didn't tend them, as I was not a person who believed in pets in a house. Animals belong outside in my mind, in the wild, where I could hunt them or catch them with a line and hook...then eat them. Apologies to pet owners and vegans everywhere, but I like to fish and hunt. It doesn't bother that other people keep pets, to each his own, it just didn't seem right to me.

"Get used to it! I like it this way!"

"Oh and what happened to cooperating with each other. We're supposed to be a couple and come to agreements and compromise. Didn't we always stress that to our kids while raising them.?"

It was the opening I was waiting for.

"Why yes dear, you're right. We always did stress that to our kids. Agreeing, sharing and caring, mutual decisions, trust and honor, all those and more were part of our lives until last night."

I think I took her by surprise, as she didn't have one of her patented snappy comebacks. She could spin anything to make it look better. She was quiet long enough for me to dish out my breakfast, She didn't even complain that I didn't make anything for her, though she must have noticed. I sat down to eat, pulling the stereo remote out of my back pocket and cranking my buddy Tom.

"

Small Change got rained on with his own .38

"

Somehow a song about gunplay felt appropriate.

"Ok, I'll bite. What exactly do you think happened last night."

I reached into the envelope on the table beside my place. I slid a picture across the table to her. She was supposed to be going to a bridge club for their monthly game. The picture showed her going into a fine downtown restaurant with Larry, our next door neighbor. Larry was handsome and well to do, but he had nothing on me in that regard. Plus I wasn't as shy as he was, and was in much better physical condition, being a fitness and health nut. I could see the wheels turning as she studied the picture. She couldn't deny the time frame, as the restaurant didn't start serving until 5:00 PM, was a 30 minute drive from our house, and the newspaper in the machine by the door was the same as the copy of yesterday's paper I slid across the table denying her ability to refute the date.

"Larry wanted to go over details of the summer block party with me. We knew you and Sheila would be bored to tears so we spared you the pain of going with us. Really, its no big deal."

She and Larry had been the producers of our big 4th of July celebration for our neighborhood association for years, so it really was a credible response. Until I slid the second picture across the table. This one showed them inside the restaurant, sitting cozily on the same side of the booth, a bottle of champagne in the chilling in a stand beside him.

"Honey this is ridiculous! It was our first meeting after last year's bash so we celebrated with champagne. I swear you are getting so paranoid, thinking I would take up with Larry!"

Picture #3 showed them with his arms around her, and their faces drawn close together. She looked at him with adoration, or was it desire? Love?

"Oh this is so out of context, we had champagne, he hugged me and even gave me a peck before we got down the the business of the night."

"A peck"

I slid three more shots across to her. They were definitely more than pecks. Mouths were open. A hand was on a breast. Her hands were below the table line.

"Damn it! These look so bad because they are out of context! They don't show what really happened, you aren't being fair!.

I took my handy remote, and flipped on the TV in the adjacent living room. A video of them entering the restaurant flowed onto the screen. It didn't take long for them to get seated inside, and the video followed all the way. It followed how quickly the champagne arrived, as if preplanned. There was a short conversation, during which I observed my wife's face blanching as the video her flirted shamelessly with Larry. Flirting became touching, touching became an embrace, and embrace became a kiss. While kissing, Larry signaled for the check. He settled quickly and the couple rose to leave. The video went dark.

Suddenly we heard shrieking from next door. It was Sheila, Larry's wife. My wife's shoulders dropped.

"I wonder what that is about." she mumbled.

Sheila is having the same talk with Larry I am having with you. She probably skipped the video and has already shown him these.

A succession of pictures slid to my wife. Them getting in his car and kissing again. Them driving to a motel. Him checking in, then leading her arm and arm to a room. Him squeezing her ass as he opened the door. A shot through a gap in the curtains of her kissing him once inside. A series of shots of them undressing each other, one shot per garment. Hands all over naked bodies as they moved to the bed, without even turning down covers and climbing in. Her blowing him, him licking her pussy, them fucking. Them fucking. Them fucking some more. Them going to the shower together. Them coming out and drying each other. Them getting dressed and getting in his car to go back where she had parked.

"Do you trust this sequence of events, or do you want that video too?"

There were tears now.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yes dear, I know. You love me, it didn't mean anything, it was just sex, etcetera etcetera etcetera. Yes, yes, yes, I know the clichés you are supposed to use. However, you did hurt me, it means something to me because sex is precious to me, so to say it was "just sex" trashes one of my biggest reasons for being married to you. Now I have a couple of questions I would like answered before we discuss where we are going from here. I need to know how often, who, and why you felt a need to step out on me. Now be very careful, you see I have compared notes with Sheila and done some checking around, and know some things. Larry has been dallying with neighborhood wives for years and this one is Sheila's last straw, he is gone!"

Dumb move for Larry. Sheila was the fiercest divorce lawyer in the region, and had promised to represent me for free whenever I needed it in exchange for helping her get the goods on our cheating spouses. You see, photography is my trade, and I have some serious gear, including lowlight cameras. I took the stills, she took the video using my gear. Since there were two of us there to bear witness to the events as well, and Sheila had played the card of spouse meeting husband as she presented their joint credit card to get a copy of the hotel receipt, the evidence was damming.

" I've been sneaking out for two years. Sometimes with Larry, but there are two other men from the neighborhood association who like to play as well, Jack and Eric. I haven't gone out with them more than once in a month, ever. I've never been with more than one at a time."

I sat quietly listening to her describe a secret sex club between her and three neighbors. I remained outwardly quiet, but my blood boiled.

"I did it because it was exciting and different. I never did anything for another man I wouldn't do with you, and never felt love, only lust for them. I never denied you in favor of them, and several times broke dates with them to be with you. I never loved any one but you, though I lusted for them. I never thought of you when I was with them, though often felt guilty for what I had done after the fact. I never thought of them when I was with you either. They don't compare with you as lovers, because I love you so much. They are "extra" to me. I don't want to lose you, and will do whatever you ask, though I will tell you I hope there is a way to have you and still see someone else once in a while. Maybe we could just try an open marriage, you might like it!"

"An open marriage, she says. So I can go to work all day leaving her free to fuck to her hearts content! So I wasn't enough?"

She reflected before answering. "I guess not. I'd be lying to say they didn't give me something you didn't. I don't want to lie to you, I've done enough of that. If I hadn't needed more, I wouldn't have gone out looking for more, and wouldn't have kept looking for it."

"So you just did whatever felt good?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"And that's ok?'

"In a sense it is, but I guess I shouldn't have hidden it."

"Right."

"So what's next, do we have a chance?"

"Yes we do. I love you, but frankly this makes me sick. So read this."

I slid her a contract, prepared last night by the lovely Sheila.

"If you truly wish to continue, you will pay for your past by signing this. It is the equivalent of a pre-nup agreement, only after the wedding. Maybe I should call it a postslut agreement! It states you have been cheating on me systematically, and that you give up your rights to any family assets in return for my not divorcing you now. That means alimony, property, savings, or my pension. You keep control of your retirement and your salary, and have the first option to buy any family property, This agreement is in effect for ten years, and if we remain married that long, we revert to a 50/50 partnership. This offer is good for one hour, after which Sheila will file divorce papers if she doesn't hear from me on the grounds of Adultery."

"The second thing you will do is invite Jack and Eric's wives over and confess to them what you've done. If you choose the divorce option, I will give them a videotape of your confession a minute ago, so the end result will remain the same. They are committed wives and deserve the truth."

"The third thing you will do is realize that you justified cheating by the argument that it is ok to do what you want just because it feels good. Its ok to look outside of your partnership for something better. So you will accept me living by that creed now as well. I don't plan to have sex with someone else yet, however, I do intend to take Sheila dancing tonight, because she really dances well, and you...well you just don't. I think we deserve a nice dinner and a bottle of champagne as well. Next week, I intend to take Ellen, my secretary on our ski vacation, Skiing with you is frustrating, since you are so much slower and won't even let me go off alone to try the steep slopes. Ellen was a ski racer in college, and is thrilled to be going. Relax, no sex, I'm her boss and could get a harassment charge for that, so I upgraded to a suite and she'll have her own bedroom. You can expect me spending time doing things I need and love with other people now. You can also expect me to pursue my tastes in music, movies, food..."

I was cutoff by a knock on the door, It was Sheila, I called for her to come in, and she strolled into the kitchen and sat at the table.

"Ooooh, linguica! I love it!"

I cut off a generous helping and plated it for her.

"Thanks! So I see by the look on her face, you guys have had the talk. I need to run to the office. Am I carrying a signed contract to file, or are we going with the divorce petition."

"No divorce!" my wife spoke up and quickly signed the one page agreement.

Sheila gathered the page into her bag, smiled and told me to pick her up at 7:00.

I did. My wife disliked it tremendously and was waiting up when I got home. We went to bed together, I rolled my back to her and went to sleep. She resented me deeply for giving away her ski trip the next week. She disliked the fact that I went out to dinner every night before coming home and ignoring the food she had prepared. I never even touched her leftovers. When I cooked at home, I cooked for one, and let her fend for herself. I cooked well, she missed it. She missed going out to movies, dinners, dancing and concerts. I always found dates that were more accomplished or knowledgeable about what we saw.

I missed the Romance terribly. I missed the sex incredibly. I was the first one to crack.

"Ok honey, I think I've come to understand why you fucked other men. These past months I've enjoyed dinner out every night, but I do miss your company over the table. Is that kind of how you feel about sex?"

She nodded yes. She had been totally neglected and was incredibly frustrated. I still loved her dearly, but just didn't feel I could go back to where we had been.

"Ok then, let's call this little episode in our lives over. Go have the sex you want, just be sure to be safe, and never use our house. Make sure you always keep me in mind, and if you fall in love, promise me you'll leave right away. I'll do the same. We eat out when we want, fuck when we want, spend time with whomever we want, but when one of us asks the other to be there we are there. We have to put each other first."

She agreed. Hell, she sprang out of her chair, charged me and dragged me right off to the bedroom for an evening of experiences truly worthy of breaking both our droughts. Gotta admit, I missed that woman.

You should have seen the look on her face the next morning when I called Sheila and asked her to save the dates for a week in April. Then I called Eric and Jack's wives and invited them on a week long Carribean cruise in April they were delighted. What, did you think I was nuts? Take back my cheating wife for nothing? I told you, I was attractive, fit, and had money, why should I sit on the sidelines? She got hers for two years, I had ground to make up! An open marriage wasn't my idea, but why shouldn't I enjoy it? As Tom Waits would put it:

"Gonna get you little something' that you can't get at home. "Zabba zabba swee ba zabba dee da doo now!"