Indescretion

Thank God I've never made Heather's mistake. However, somehow I identify more strongly with Heather than any other character I've ever written.

*****

INDISCRETION

Heather flipped the switch again. The garbage disposal made a whining grinding noise.

"Shit," she spat, flipping the switch off. The drain made a burbling burping noise, rather similar to the sound her son Kyle had made every time he'd thrown-up over this past weekend. Her daughter had been ill all the week before that.

It was too much. First the sick children, then the broken dishwasher, the fender bender in the school parking lot this morning, Jerry's constant business trips, and now this.

God how she missed Jerry. She needed him. She needed his help. She needed his ear. She needed his arms. The drain made a loud retching noise. The sink filled with disgusting dirty dishwater and half-digested leavings from the disposal. A foul odor wrinkled Heather's nose, making her want to barf.

Her eyes burnt. A tear trickled down her cheek. Her knees began to quake. She caught the edge of the counter to keep her balance and she began to cry.

Long minutes later the tears stopped. She found herself staring at the still burbling pool of filth within her sink. She felt weak. The awful smell still churned her stomach.

Heather tore her eyes away from the awful mess and scrubbed her them with the back of her hand. She briefly thought about retrieving the bathroom plunger but then wondered why bother. She grabbed the phone and fished out the phonebook from the junk drawer.

"Plunger Plumber's, we clean your pipes. My name's Nancy Donaldson, how may I help you?" droned the bored receptionist on the other end of the line.

"Hi, I'm Heather. Heather Belle. I, uhm, my sink is clogged, my dishwasher is broken and my garbage disposal is stuck. Can I get a plumber?"

"You may Ms. Belle. Let's see, we have an opening at 2:30. Will that work?"

"It's Mrs. Belle," Heather said, automatically. "Is there anything sooner? My kitchen is a real mess and I've got to pick up my son and daughter from school around three."

"Hmmm, maybe, where is your place Mrs. Belle?"

Heather supplied her address and phone number

"Well, I'll see what I can do. One of our plumbers has a job in you neighborhood right now. I'll call him and if he finishes early I'll have him come right over. You're gonna be home between now and 2:30, right?"

"Yes"

"Good, the technician will call when he is on his way. He'll be able to take care of the disposal and sink. The dishwasher will likely require a second trip."

"Okay, thank you," Heather said. She let out a pent up breath and breathed a little easier.

"Well, if that is all, I'd better call our technician. Have a good day."

"You too. No wait, how much is it going to cost?

"Fifty dollars an hour plus parts. There is also a fifty dollar service fee per call."

"Okay, thanks"

"Good day."

Heather hung up the phone and threw the phone book on the counter. She slouched down at Jerry's desk and rummaged through the junk for their checkbook. She turned on the computer to check their bank balance.

"Ninety two dollars," Heather cried, staring at the computer screen.

A heavy sinking feeling weighed down her gut. Payday was still three days away and there was only ninety two dollars in their account. She'd sworn they'd had a few thousand in the account last week.

She scanned back through the register. Mixed amongst all then normal charges for groceries, mortgage and bills was a nineteen hundred and something dollar check to Commuter's Computers.

Heather slammed the keyboard against the desk. She leaned back in her chair trying to deny what was happening but was helpless to tear her eyes away from the incriminating data. She ran shaking fingers through her hair.

"Damn it Jerry!" she cussed, tears leaking from her wide eyes. "You said you'd wait. You had a laptop! You didn't need another. Not now!" Heather began to cry in earnest. It wasn't until the phone went to voice mail that Heather remembered she was waiting for the plumber to call. She dove for the phone, knocking it from its receiver. She scrambled after it as it clattered across the floor.

"Hello," she said, in a small, breathless voice. There was no answer.

"Hello?" she said, louder, a kind of panicked note creeping into her voice. Only silence answered her.

She ran back around the desk to play the voice mail. It was still recording. She looked at the phone in disbelief.

"Oh crap," she said, and jammed her thumb into the talk button.

"Hello! Hello, hello?" she cried into the phone.

"Hello," a masculine voice half laughed on the other end of the line. "This is Devin with Plunger Plumbing. May I please speak with Mrs. Belle?"

"This is Heather Belle."

"Mrs. Belle, I've just finished with my last job. I understand you've got an urgent problem. I am just up the street. Might I verify your address please?"

Heather gave Devin her address and he said he was less than ten minutes away. He would be over soon.

Heather hung up the phone and then rummaged through the desk for the emergency credit card. She and Jerry seldom used it as they had gotten in trouble with in the past. Still, Jerry kept it in case of an emergency.

"Well, this time, he'd created his own emergency," she thought.

She found it and stuffed it into her jeans. She looked up and caught her reflection in the window. Self consciously, she took stock of her appearance.

The plain white tee-shirt she'd thrown on that morning looked as tired and worn as she felt. Much of her hair had pulled free of its ponytail and it looked to be a mousey brown mess. Her face was red and puffy.

Heather headed to her bedroom closet for a simple blouse. She was nearly there when the doorbell rang.

For a moment her mind locked in indecision. Half of her reached for the closet. The other half of her tried to race down the hall for the front door. She almost fell.

"Commin'!" she yelled. She grabbed a scrunchy and pulled her hair back in a hasty ponytail. She scrubbed her face with her hand once more and started for the door. She half managed to get her tired tee-shirt tucked in before she opened the door.

"Mrs. Belle, I'm Devin with Plunger Plumbing."

He was nearly as short as she was tall. That made him nearly six two. He had a nice smile, was well built and looked as though he worked out. He was cute and Heather could not help but feel a little wistful for a time before children, before marriage, before responsibility.

"Mrs. Belle?"

Heather started.

"Uhm, hi, please come in. I'm Heather," she stammered, a little flustered.

Devin brushed up against her as he stepped into the house. He brought with him the smell of Draino and other plumber things, though not unpleasantly so. Under that he smelt of man.

He didn't seem to notice but when he touched her, Heather felt a little electric shock run down her spine. He felt close. Too close, and somehow if felt good. He stirred something in her that had been too long ignored. Heather sucked in a shuddering breath, gathered herself and led him to the kitchen.

After a few formalities Devin got down to business. He made quick work of the drain, cleaned up the mess and began to tear into the disposal. While he worked Heather pretended to fold cloths in the laundry room.

"Oh, ouch, I found the problem," he said, from the kitchen. Heather detected a strangled note in his voice. She went to go see.

As she entered the kitchen Devin turned towards her. He had a funny half embarrassed, half regretful grin upon his face. Devin held up something between his thumb and forefinger for Heather to see.

"No!" Heather's hands flew to her mouth. She staggered back a step bumping into the island counter. She looked to her ring finger dreading what she already knew she wouldn't see.

"That was his grandmothers," she tried to say. All that came out was a gasping sob. Devin hastily dropped the mangled remains of her wedding ring and caught her just before she fell. She clutched at the breast of his coveralls and sobbed.

For a moment he stood awkwardly, letting her cry, then his strong arms encircled her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. He stroked her disheveled hair.

A warm close protected feeling began to well up inside of Heather, blunting her despair. She couldn't help but realize it had been far too long since Jerry had held her like that. She basked in it for a few moments, even after the tears had stopped, and then gently pushed Devin away.

He let go but left his hand on her shoulder. His eyes searched hers. Then his free hand snaked in behind her neck, drew her in and kissed her.

Heather gasped. His tongue snaked in between her open lips. She made to push him away. He wasn't preventing her from breaking free but then she was kissing him back.

That twisting ignored feeling she'd had earlier blossomed to full needy life. She wanted to be loved, to be touched, to be held and to be whole. It coursed through her veins. Her heart climbed into her throat.

Then Devin kissed her throat. His lips trailed a long hot line up her jawbone. His breath flooded her ear with warmth.

"Devin, I'm married," she said, in a strangled voice.

He didn't answer. He just kissed her again.

"This is not right!" her mind screamed. "Where is our husband?" her soul sobbed. "Where is Jerry?" Tears streamed from her eyes.

Heather broke off the kiss. She pushed Devin away but still clutched at his coveralls, her whole body shaking.

She gathered herself, straightened, let go and looked away from him.

"You should go."

Devin swallowed, and then nodded.

"Sorry," he said, stepping back from her.

"Really, I'm sorry," he said catching her chin and gently turning her face towards his. Heather risked a quick glance into his eyes.

She gasped. She saw his desire. But she also saw something akin to respect. It had been so long since she'd felt respected. It had been even longer since she'd felt desirable.

Something broke. Heather's lips welded to Devin's. They were kissing. He was nibbling her ear. He was biting her throat. Hot kisses trailed down her collar bone.

The vee-neck of her tee was being pulled aside. He lips touched the side of her breast. Then his tongue was trailing a line along the edge of her bra. It was warm, then it was cold, a little gross and oh so hot. Her whole body shivered in response.

Then they were lip locked again. Heather's arms broke off her clutching and snaked behind to undo her bra. Devin nudged her backwards. Her ass bumped into the counter. He pushed her onto it. He leaned into their kiss, pushing her over, until she had to catch herself. Her legs snaked around him, holding him close.

Devin kissed her jaw, ear, neck and collar bone. He pushed her shirt and bra up around her neck. The stubble of his chin scratched across her belly. He kissed the bottom of her breasts.

"Ouch!" Heather jerked away from his not so gentle nip. Her hand shot to her aching nipple. Devin looked up with a wicked grin. A shot of anger coursed through Heather and she tried to squirm away. Devin caught her, and kissed her. She kissed him back. Her hand fell back to the counter. Her nipples ached, one with pain and one with desire. Both were stiffer than before.

Devin pulled away and kissed her belly again. His hands found the seam of her jeans. He pulled them off, nearly costing Heather her balance. She leaned back further and caught her heals on the edge of the counter, spreading herself wide.

He kissed her on the inside of her thighs. She could feel his hot breath through her panties. He kissed them. She shuddered. Then they were off and he was standing over her. He pulled her to the very edge of the counter. She could feel his hot warmth against her thighs and knew he was bare below as well.

"Condom?" she asked, half hopeful, half fearful.

"Nope" Devin said.

"Oh God," she gasped, as he pushed his way in. He began to set up a needy rhythm. She knew she should stop him, now more than ever, but he had gone too far and she was too close and, "Oh God!"

Heather's arms gave and the back of her head knocked painfully onto the counter. She barely felt it. Her right hand crawled mindlessly across the countertop reaching for something to grab while her left hand clutched at its edge. Her legs strained. She arched the lower half of her body to better meet his thrusts. Something clattered to the floor. She felt herself spasm with his every thrust. Each was stronger than the last, each was more intense and each overwhelmed her conscious mind until all that remained was her pleasure, again and again and again.

When Heather could breathe again Devin had already stepped back and was zipping up his coveralls. Heather tried to catch his eye. When she did he gave her a very sheepish, very boyish grin.

Heather blushed. She turned her head and caught sight of her mangled ring.

She was off the counter in a flash. Suddenly she couldn't get her cloths on fast enough. She skipped her panties and half hopped, half wiggled into her jeans. The credit card fell from her pocket and clattered to the floor. She scooped it up and thrust it at Devin, without looking at him.

"No lady, this one's on me."

"You fixed the disposal, you cleaned the drain. You did the job. Your company expects to be paid."

"I can't," Devin whined. "I've already taken more than I should have."

"Take it!" Heather yelled, the arm with the card thrust out behind her such that her whole body was turned away from Devin. Her body quaked as he took it from her hand. She wanted to cry. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to scream.

Devin ran the card, grabbed his tools and practically ran from the house. Heather leapt after him and locked the door, then the deadbolt. Next was the garage door and then the side door. Then she secretly watched at the window until his van drove away. He peeled out as he turned the corner.

Heather dragged herself back to the kitchen. The cupboard under the sink was open. A glass was shattered on the floor between the counter and stove. Her panties lay kicked under the table. An ugly smear marred the counter where her hips had lain. The whole room smelt of infidelity and lust. It made her want to vomit.

She attacked the counter first. She scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until her arms ached. She poured bleach on it but it still wouldn't come clean.

And the filth spread. It spread onto her hands, up her arms and into her skin. Sobbing she ran to the shower. She scrubbed until her hands were raw. She scrubbed until her skin bled. She scrubbed until the water turned cold and she collapsed sobbing in the bottom of the tub.

Heather came too to the noise of the phone ringing. She could just hear it over the chattering of her teeth and somehow it broke through her misery to her consciousness. Shaking, she turned off the frigid shower and crawled from the tub.

By the time she had wrapped a towel about herself and stumbled to the phone it had gone to voicemail. Almost immediately, it started ringing again. She shuffled over to the phone with the intention of unplugging it. Then she saw that it was the kid's school.

"The kids!" Her eyes snapped to the clock. It was a twenty- to-five. She was supposed to have picked them up more than an hour-and-a-half ago. She grabbed the phone, nearly dropping her towel.

"Hello?" she said, a note of her rising hysteria entering her voice.

"Mrs. Belle? Is this Heather Belle?"

"Yes"

"We have your kids in the office. School was out nearly two hours ago. You need to come pick them up."

"I'm comming."

"Mrs. Belle, it is really important that ..."

"I'm on my way!" Heather screamed. She dropped the phone and raced to the closet. She wrestled herself into a white blouse, white pants and even white shoes as she headed for the door. She paused in the kitchen, wondering if she should sweep up the glass, but decided she hadn't the time. She'd keep the kids out until she got it cleaned up when they returned home.

At the school there were a lot of incriminations. Kyle and Trisha wanted to know why mommy had left them all alone. The school wanted to know why she hadn't picked them up on time. They wanted to know why she hadn't answered the phone. The principle had a long chat with her. He informed her that had she been any later, child services might have been called. Next time she was this late, they would be.

The ride home took an eternity. Heather's children had forgiven her; they were too young not too. Now things were back to normal, they were fighting. Kyle pulled Trisha's hair and Trisha screamed. Heather began screaming too.

"Kyle! Stop pulling your sister's hair! Trish! Stop screaming!"

"Mom! She's sticking her tongue out at me!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!

"Stop it! Stop it! Just stop it!" Heather screamed, even louder. She was crying again. God help her, would she ever stop crying.

Kyle and Trisha gave her a hurt look, the kind of hurt look only a little kid can give their mom, but stayed silent. Heather heard sniffling coming from the back seat.

She pulled the car into the driveway and turned to look at her kids.

"Look," she said. "Mommy is sorry. Mommy is really tired and really sad. I'm sorry, can you please forgive mommy?"

"Yes mommy," Trisha said, rubbing her eyes with a little balled up fist. Kyle folded his arms and gave her the evil eye. Heather sighed and climbed out of the car. A moment later Kyle and Trisha raced past her for the door. They pushed and shoved to see who could get through the door first. Kyle kicked Trisha. Trisha screamed and spit in his face.

Heather shoved them aside and unlocked the door. Both kids lunged for the door but Heather held on firmly.

"Now kids, I don't want you going in the kitchen. Mommy broke a glass. I need to clean it up."

"But I'm hungry," Kyle whined.

Heather put on her best kiddie serious face and looked down at him.

"I'm serious. I don't want you in the kitchen until I am done."

He pouted for just a second and before he said, "Okay mommy."

"Good," she said, and let go of the door. Both kids rushed through, dropped their coats in the mud room and raced into the dining area.

Heather sighed, and hung up their jackets. A second later Trisha's voice piped up from under the table.

"Mommy, why is your swimsuit under the table?" "Trisha, give me those," Heather half commanded, half pleaded. She snatched the offending panties from her child's hands.

"Mommy, what's wrong?"

"Everything Trisha. Everything's wrong. Tears began to run down her cheek again.

"I'm wrong? I made you sad?"

"No Trish. It's not you. It's mommy."

"Trisha, can you please do me a favor? Can you please go to your room and play with your dolls? And please, please don't fight with your brother."

"Yes mommy." Trisha crawled out from under the table. She jumped up and skipped towards the hall. When she was about to leave the room she turned and said.

"Everything is going to be all right mommy. Daddy will make it all better."

Heather gave her daughter a weak smile.

"Thank you Trisha. Mommy is feeling better already."

Trisha grinned, then turned and skipped into the hall.

Kyle was already gone. Heather strode down the hall to make sure he was okay. His bedroom door was open. She peeked in. He was rummaging around in his toy bin with one hand and clutching a bruised banana in the other.

Heather shook her head and headed back to the kitchen. She was in no mood to scold him for disobeying her. Clearly he'd managed to get the banana without getting hurt. Right now, that was all that mattered.

So thinking, she grabbed the broom and started sweeping. She was just tossing the glass in the trash when the low rumble of a car pulling up came from the driveway.