The Wicked Witch 2

If you are looking for explicit sex, move along. You won't find it here. This is just a fantasy, a little fairy tale about witches both good and bad. It's a love story of sorts that is dedicated to the good women, the truly Loving Wives, who bring happiness to those around them and make life worth living.

*****

Once upon a time there were four families living on the same street in a city not far from here. They were young adults with young children, big mortgages, demanding jobs, obligations, and responsibilities. Okay, it's sounding less like a fairy tale and more like real life now. I guess that's the point. Real life isn't a fairy tale, but it can be good if you make it good and it can be bad if that's the path you choose. You see, of the four wives and mothers, three were good witches and they cast their spell of love over their families, bringing happiness to their children and comfort to their husbands. Their husbands, in turn, loved their wives and doted on their children. They worked hard to provide for their families, made time for them, and built a life with the people they loved. The fourth wife brought only deception to her husband, casting a spell of invisibility so that he was blind to her actions and unaware of her true nature. And that is where our story begins because, you see, the good witches came to see through her spell of invisibility and decided to set things right.

All eight spouses had jobs because it takes two incomes today to make ends meet. They jockeyed their schedules to be home when the kids got out of school, worked late at their kitchen tables, took time to help their kids with their homework, and tried to find a little adult time once the kids were in bed. (Well, this may be a fairy tale, but we all have needs! I mean, come on!)

The four wives were Claire, Denise, Sharon, and Louise. You'll meet their husbands later. No two of the eight spouses worked at the same place and between them they covered the city. One day, and I think it was a Friday, Claire and her three friends at work decided to celebrate. It had been a particularly hard week with pressing deadlines on too much work, but they got it done. They called their husbands, told them there was frozen pizza in the frig, and they took off for a girls' night out. Claire called her three friends with invitations to join them. Sharon and Louise jumped at the chance, but Denise had to beg off. She was working late. Of course, she got everyone's pity and they promised to get together soon because that's what friends do, especially in a fairy tale.

The good witches cast a gentle spell of joy across the room with their smiles and laughter. All six women were enjoying themselves, eating things that were off their diets, and drinking drinks with straws and silly umbrellas while they waved their wedding rings at the eager young men who asked them to dance. They were all feeling pretty good about themselves until they saw Denise walk in, her arms linked with a man who was not her husband. Immediately, a pall of darkness fell across the room.

"Do you see that?"

"Yes. Maybe it's her brother or her cousin."

"I thought she was working late tonight."

"Maybe she got the work done. George will be along in a minute, I'm sure."

"George is in Cincinnati. His brother is in the hospital and the family needs George right now."

To say the least, George was not along in a minute, or ten, or twenty, or at all. Meanwhile, Denise was enjoying the company of her "brother" in a distinctly non-sisterly way.

"Have you ever danced like that with your brother?"

"Nope."

"Cousin?"

"Nope."

"You ever kiss your brother like that?"

"Yuk! No!"

"Cousin?"

"Okay, let's just agree they aren't related and what we're seeing isn't something we want to be seeing."

One of Claire's friends jumped into the conversation. "What are you three talking about?"

"That's our friend over there dancing with the guy with the boner."

"Oh, her husband's a hunk."

"Yes, he is, but that's not her husband."

"Oh shit!"

"Come on, let's not let her ruin our good time."

"I want to say `Fuck her!', but I have a feeling he will soon enough."

"Don't say that! She wouldn't do that to George."

"Do you think George would be happy if he saw her right now?"

"My husband wouldn't if it were me."

"Nor mine."

"I don't even know her husband, but mine would have my head if I were carrying on like that."

"What should we do? If we sit here much longer, she's bound to spot us."

"I don't know about you, but I am not going to run and hide. Besides, her reaction when she sees us will speak volumes."

Denise seemed oblivious to anyone other than her date. They sat, they kissed, they drank, they danced, and they drank some more. Her date was having a very good night and every indication was that it would get better before the night was over.

An hour after they arrived, Denise and her date paid their tab, left, and walked across the street to the hotel. All the women from girls' night were watching them by this time and they could see clearly through the window that Denise was not headed for a prayer meeting. However, the phrase "Oh god, oh god,..." could figure prominently in her evening activities.

"That bitch!"

"That evil witch!"

"That damn slut! How could she do that to George?"

The girls settled back into their seats and began to contemplate what they had learned.

"What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean, `What are we going to do?' I'm not getting involved!"

"Really? Are you going to let her cuckold George like that?"

"It's none of our business."

One of the women from girls' night spoke up. "Ladies, I don't know George, but if my husband ever found out that I knew and kept my mouth shut, there would be all kinds of hell to pay in my house."

"Me, too. I can hear it now, `You knew and said nothing? Do you think it's ok to act like that? Isn't George your friend, too? What are you doing when you go out with your friends? Is that how you behave?' Oh brother, I'm telling all three of you right now it's your neck or hers, and God help you if your husbands ever find out that you knew and said nothing."

"Bitch! She's put us in one hell of a spot!"

"I don't know about the rest of you, but if I wasn't sober before I sure as hell am now."

"We can't do anything tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what are we going to do? Are we going to barge into their room taking photographs and check her panties? Are we going to wait around until morning to see what time she leaves?"

"No." They were all shaking their heads.

"Let's meet for coffee tomorrow, 11AM, at Better Grounds on 5th and Hamilton. We'll figure out what to do then."

"Sounds good. I'm going home to my husband and kiss him like I haven't seen him in a month!"

"To hell with that, I'm fucking mine until he begs for mercy. I may need a little good will in the bank before this mess is over."

"Amen, sister!"

The ladies called it a night. The three good witches headed for home; their evening ruined. Their friends all decided that the evening was a bust after that and they also headed back to their husbands and families with a new-found appreciation for ordinary lives in ordinary houses with better than ordinary men.

The next day the three good witches met for coffee. Two of Claire's friends from the night before decided to join them. The good witches were laughing as Barbara and Janet approached their table. "What are you two doing here? It's not your problem and if I were you, I wouldn't be here voluntarily."

"We wanted to see what you decide. Besides, some day one of you may cheat on your husband and then we'll have to know what to do."

"Bite your tongue, girl! Don't even joke about it."

They were all laughing, but it was a nervous laugh. They all knew that whatever they decided could have ramifications far beyond anything any of them ever knew or wanted.

"The way I see it, we have four choices. One, we do nothing. I think we've all agreed that could be dangerous, but anything we do could be dangerous. Two, we tell our husbands and let them decide."

"I like that. Let them talk with George if they want, and if they don't it's their decision."

"Yeah, but it still comes back on us."

"Three, we talk with George."

"Nope. Not me. If we're wrong, that's a mistake that will follow you for the rest of your life."

"Four, we talk with Denise. Think of it as an intervention."

"Think of it as sticking our nose in where it doesn't belong and losing a friend."

"What if we're wrong?"

"How are we wrong? Do you think George is ok with her grinding on Mr. Boner on the dance floor, playing kissy face, and then going across the street to the hotel? Is there anything else over there except beds?"

"Damn bitch! I hate being in this position."

"There is something else you haven't mentioned. If you tell your husbands, that puts them in a bind with George. Then they need to make the same decision you're facing of whether to tell him or not. They're going to be even more angry than you because they're going to take George's side."

"And you don't know for sure. Maybe they had out-of-town buyers staying at the hotel and were just going over to speak with them."

"I drove past the bar this morning. Her car was still parked there."

"Damn slut!"

"I like George. Just between us, I don't like the way Denise flirts with my David. I know it doesn't mean anything, or I never thought it did, but I've never liked it."

"I've seen her get way to handsy with my Henry. I even spoke with him about it after the last cookout. He laughed it off, but I still don't like it."

"I might as well tell you that she was drunk at last year's Christmas party and came on to Mark. He pretended not to understand her, but he told me about it later. She even grabbed his crotch for a moment until he jumped back and offered to get her some coffee. I tried to forget about it, but it was all I could do not to slap the bitch off her the next time I saw her."

"Yeah, I saw the way she was dancing with the men and I didn't like it. George was seething and he tried to get her to calm it, but she didn't. She was anything but wifely the whole night. I just wrote it off to her drinking too much, but I'm not so sure now."

"Ladies, I'm starting to think I don't give a damn about how Denise reacts. I'm more worried about George and our own husbands."

*** *** ***

Now, gentle reader, there is something that you must understand: the women make the rules of society and the men live by them. The women tell men how they will behave, and the women tell other women what is expected of them as well. The women raise the children and the women control sex. They tell you what you should eat, how much you should drink, and when it becomes necessary they will tell you what friends you can have. As Jeff Foxworthy says, "[You] are adrift on an estrogen ocean." You see, men are individuals who can spend large amounts of time by themselves. They think what they think, want what they want, and do as they wish (when their wives allow it). The society of women is different: that society is built on getting along together whether they like each other or not and for the most part they present a united front to all men. However, when a woman departs from what is expected, she can find herself more alone than she has ever been before. Denise was about to learn what it meant to be outside the society of women.

*** *** ***

The first thing to happen after the women met for coffee was that Louise called a friend, Ann, who worked with Denise, and invited her to lunch on Monday.

"So, girlfriend, what's so important that I had to drop everything and meet you for lunch, not that I'm complaining. It's been months since we got together!"

"What do you know about Denise Barlow?"

Ann hesitated. "She's a friend of yours, isn't she?"

Now it was Louise's turn to hesitate. "Yes, I think. We've known each other for even longer than I've known you."

"What do you mean `I think'?"

"I saw something last Friday that has me re-evaluating my relationship with her."

Neither woman wanted to be the first to break the news to the other.

"I've never been especially friendly with her. She has a dismissive way of dealing with other women, including me, and I think she skates by on the efforts of others. The truth is there aren't many women in the office who can stand her."

Louise spoke quietly, not looking at her friend. "She made a pass at Mark last Christmas."

Ann hesitated. "I think she's screwing around behind her husband's back."

"I know she is. I saw her."

"That bitch!"

"She was with some guy. He was about a head taller than her, a few years older, cheap suit, expensive shoes, cheap gold watch..."

"Sounds like Peter Bruk. We call him Peter Schmuk. He's been working on her for a few months."

"He had a boner all night."

"Oh, yeah, that's Peter."

"Classy guy."

"Not really."

Both women laughed.

"So, what's wrong with your friend? I've only met her husband at the Christmas parties, but he seems like a lovely man. He doesn't seem like he deserves her running around with a dick like Peter Bruk."

"He doesn't. How many people at your office know about this?"

"Only the people with eyes."

"Bitch."

"What do you have planned?"

"It's a cold, cold world out there, Ann, and it's about to get a whole lot colder for that cheating slut."

The two women talked and planned until they needed to return to work. Later that afternoon Ann had coffee with Jill, who was the PA for the CEO, Terry who worked in HR, and Pat who worked in IT. They had a quiet talk about how bad witches make all witches look bad. Well, let's be honest, they never liked Denise to begin with. They saw through her spell of femininity and could see the bitch within. Women, it seems, have that power where men are blind.

It really is a cold, cold world out there and the temperature around Denise Barlow began dropping a little each day. The first sign of an early winter came when Jill sent out an email to four essential employees informing them of an important meeting with a new client. Her record clearly showed that Denise was sent a copy, but somehow her copy was never received. The CEO was not pleased that Denise ignored his meeting, and when Denise showed him her screen the email was there and listed as read. She couldn't explain it, but then she never asked Pat and Pat wouldn't have told her if she had.

Over the next few weeks little problems began to plague Denise. Her coworkers seemed less responsive to her questions and invitations to lunch seemed to drop off. Her application to be reimbursed for a business lunch was somehow lost along with the essential receipt. There were minor mix ups with her 401(k) that needed to be sorted out and for some reason her wastebasket was never emptied. These were just minor annoyances that didn't amount to anything lasting, but it was getting cold in Denise's world and she felt a kind of isolation she had never known before.

One of the most bothersome things was the day she missed having lunch with her three friends. They were meeting at The Rabbit Hutch, a small chain of restaurants that could turn salad into a meal, but her friends never showed. Apparently, they got their locations mixed up and the other three went to a different address that was part of the same local chain. Denise was in a bad mood the rest of the day.

The one bit of office heat that didn't abandon her was Peter Bruk. He was always stopping by her desk with little things of no importance and using them as an excuse to flirt. She welcomed his attention in her shrinking world; but her spell of invisibility was failing, and her actions were increasingly obvious to everyone. Her world was growing colder still with every passing week.

By now George had returned from tending to his family responsibilities. His brother was out of the hospital and his family had everything under control. He came home to his wife, who greeted him with tears in her eyes, and he resumed the job and the routine he enjoyed. George was content. His brother was recovering, his wife missed him, and his job was waiting for him. George thought his world was good. Meanwhile, Denise had to put her long nights with Peter Schmuk on hold until George was again called out of town for business.

Denise's better behavior did not earn her any grace with the other women. There was no warming in Denise's world. It was a Saturday morning. George was playing golf with his friends and Denise was on her way to meet Mr. Boner. Perhaps she was too excited about her upcoming playtime, or maybe she was just distracted by her recent minor problems; but when she looked in her rearview mirror, she saw the red and blue lights of a patrol car telling her to pull over.

Officer Karen bent down to Denise's open window. "License and registration, please. Do you know how fast you were going?"

"I wasn't driving fast - maybe 30?"

"It's a 25 zone, mam. There's a school over there."

"Oh, but it's a Saturday and the kids are away."

"It's still a 25 zone, mam. I'm going to have to write you up."

Officer Karen started walking back to her patrol car with a perceptible smile on her face.

"Bitch. Who put the stick up her butt? Twenty-five, thirty, what's the fucking difference?"

"Five, mam."

"What?"

"The difference between 25 and 30 is 5."

"I'm sorry. I didn't see you come back to the car."

"I forgot to ask to see your insurance. Car insurance is mandatory in this state."

"Oh. I'm sure I have it here someplace." Denise began looking through her glove box while Officer Karen tried to suppress the smile that kept creeping onto her lips.

Denise arrived late for her rendezvous with Peter Schmuk, and more to the point Peter's boner, which is really all of Peter that interested Denise. Shallow as she was, she knew what Peter was and she understood that she had no other use for him. He sure as hell wasn't husband material and why would she want another husband? George was conscientious and well-trained from the very beginning. His mother had raised him well. As husbands go, he was just what she wanted: polite, attentive, well-groomed, and he made a good income. He was good enough in the sack, too; but then when a woman wants a little strange, she can hardly get it from her husband. And strange is what Denise wanted today.

When two shallow creatures like Denise and Peter meet for the purpose of demonstrating how much more clever they are than the people who trust them, the coupling isn't what you might call romantic. There are reassuring words of affection, compliments to boost the ego and enhance the performance, declarations that each is the best the other has ever had, and it is all lies. For them, the sex is about taking what they need and proving their own desirability. They only give each other what is needed to get what they want in return. When it is over, there are words of admiration and appreciation to guarantee a repeat performance later and then each goes their own way with hardly a thought for the other until the need arises.

While Denise was getting her strange, Officer Karen walked up to the front desk at the hotel.

"Officer Karen, as I live and breathe. I've not seen you in, what, 3 months at least? Where have you been keeping yourself?" Patty was glad to see her friend, even though she knew the uniform meant they would not have long to catch up.

"I've been working on that master's degree in criminology. You know I want to make detective someday. Between work and school, I hardly have time for anything else."

Patty was shaking her head. "You know, girlfriend, when they say, 'Don't burn the candle at both ends.' they don't mean work and school. There's supposed to be some party time in the mix."