Author's Note: A reader suggested that I do a series of stories about contestants in the Mrs. America pageant. What a fine idea. However, I have of late had a fascination with tee-shirts that say things on them. I found a website (I can't remember the URL anymore) with a number of printed tee-shirts appropriate to this kind of story. So, both elements – Mrs. America contestant wearing a naughty tee-shirt – will be present in this series. I apologize in advance for those readers that enjoy the MILF genre, but not the Cheating Wife Genre, as this series, almost by definition, falls into the latter.
Elizabeth stirred as she felt her husband's weight return to their bed. His lips brushed her scrubbed cheek and he whispered in her ear.
"We'll be back around 4 or so, sweetie."
"Mmm," she murmured, groggy with sleep. "Where are you going?"
"Will and I are going hiking up around Bogus Basin. Remember?"
She groaned in response.
"I told you about this early in the week. You said no problem."
"Whatever," she mumbled, rolling away from her errant husband. The truth was, she did remember him telling her that he and their twelve-year-old son were going to be gone for the day. She wasn't happy about it when he informed her Tuesday night, and she sought to remind him of her consternation again this morning.
His weight lifted off the bed and she listened as he walked from the room. She lay in bed for a few more minutes, ears attuned to the garage door opening and the rumble of his Expedition as it sped down the driveway, leaving her alone in the house.
Elizabeth rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, wallowing in self-pity. Her husband was one of the vice-presidents for a large construction concern headquartered in Boise, Idaho. He was senior enough in the corporate hierarchy to afford a comfortable lifestyle, nicely supplemented by her interior design business. But his status was low enough that his travel schedule was horrendous, often seeing him away on business three weeks out of any given month.
This month was no different. He didn't return from Kansas City until 8:00 last night and would be leaving for Utah Sunday afternoon. And rather than spend his Saturday – their Saturday – as a family, he abandoned her for the day, preferring instead an afternoon hiking around the foothills above Boise.
What made his conduct even more maddening is the utter aloofness with which he had approached her involvement in the Mrs. Idaho pageantry. He lent little support during the events leading up the pageant. Instead of offering to pick Will up at school on those afternoons when she was in sessions with her pageant coach, he begged off, claiming that all of his traveling required him to work late on those nights. And while he attended the pageant itself (parts of it actually), all she received upon her crowning as Mrs. Idaho was a congratulatory dinner and a vase full of flowers. The Syringa, to boot. So what if the Syringa was Idaho's official state flower?
Elizabeth wiped these thoughts from her consciousness and lifted herself from the bed that she shared (on rare occasions) with her husband. After starting a pot of coffee in the kitchen, she sauntered back to their bedroom and started the shower, luxuriating in the scalding water that cascaded over her tanned shoulders and down her lightly muscled back.
She slid the bar of soap over her supple thighs and flat-tanned stomach, gently lathering her trimmed pubic area. Her sudsy fingers traced up her torso, slowly circling the soft breasts that filled her 34C bras, closing in on the rubbery nipples that sat as bulls-eyes at the center of her milky white globes.
Cleansed, she stepped into a pair of khaki shorts and an old tee-shirt and returned to the kitchen for her morning ritual of coffee and croissant. Mug in hand, she padded through the house in bare feet to her home office and, setting the coffee on the desk, opened her brief case and extracted a set of plans for the Blodgett home that she had brought home to review over the weekend.
She loved the Blodgett house. Mrs. Blodgett had given her carte blanche to redecorate the mountain-side home she shared with her husband, an executive with a large forestry and paper products corporation in Boise, and their children. Given that the entire house was being redone, she and Mrs. Blodgett had decided that accomplishing their goals in phases was best. They were just completing the first phase and starting the second one.
After reviewing the various prints and plans for an hour or so, Elizabeth decided that she'd drive up to the house to check on the carpenters' progress in what was to become Mr. Blodgett's home office. Eventually, the room would be oak-paneled with a private bath, recessed wet bar and a flat-panel TV mounted on the wall opposite a large oak desk. Now, it was just an empty shell as the carpenters trimmed and mounted the wood wall panels.
Though it was Saturday morning, Elizabeth had no qualms about visiting the house and disturbing the Blodgetts' weekend. Mrs. Blodgett had informed her that the family was taking vacation in Laguna Beach for two weeks, though their eldest son, Zach, would not be joining them.
Sitting at her desk, sipping the remains of her coffee, her mind drifted to Zach, the ne'er-do-well of the family. Twenty-four going on sixteen, Zach had graduated from Arizona State the previous December and returned home, not having a job to go to. This did not surprise Elizabeth, as she understood that Zach had taken six-and-a-half years to graduate college.
He sure is fresh one. Whenever Elizabeth visited the Blodgett home to check on the redecorating progress, Zach was always there, lounging by the pool or playing Xbox 360 (she recognized the gaming console because her son had the same one). He was always sure to say hello to her with a lecherous smile and a gleam in his eye, holding her hand a little longer than was appropriate.
Elizabeth glanced at her watch and saw that noon was approaching. She unlocked one of the drawers in her desk and pulled the Blodgetts' house key from it. After gathering a note pad and her car keys, she slipped into a pair of sandals and made her way toward the garage. Her slender fingers grasped the knob but she paused, recalling the last time she had seen Zach.
* * *
It was about a month ago, right before he had left for somewhere in South America for a backpacking trip. She and Mrs. Blodgett were standing and talking in the great room, which was part of the second phase of redecorating. It was a massive room, with a vaulted ceiling and stone fireplace big enough for a child to stand in. The exterior wall contained floor-to-ceiling windows and two sets of French doors that let out onto the pool deck, which itself overlooked a wide, shallow valley.
Elizabeth had glanced outside to see Zach napping on a lounger beside the pool, his skin a deep bronze that glistened with sweat and sun tan oil. After a few minutes, he had lifted his head and seen her talking with his mother, and gave her a flirtatious wave. She had turned away, focusing her attention on Mrs. Blodgett's ideas for the room.
About ten minutes later, Zach came in through the French doors and said hello to his mom. He took Elizabeth's soft hand in his own, again holding it a little too long. He had left his shirt by the pool and several beads of perspiration rolled down his well-defined pectorals. From the kitchen, the phone had rung and Mrs. Blodgett excused herself.
"It's good to see you, Elizabeth," he said, as though they were life-long friends.
"You, too, Zach," she responded, her voice clipped. "Are you enjoying your summer?"
He smiled like the golden boy he was. "Every day's summer when you're unemployed. A little bored, though. I don't have any friends here and I dumped my girlfriend when I graduated from ASU."
"Well, there are plenty of women in this town your age. I'm sure you'll make out alright." Elizabeth was anxious for Mrs. Blodgett to return from her phone call so that they could conclude their business and she could be on her way.
"Yeah, well, speaking of that. Too bad you're married. I'd make you my girlfriend." The lecherous grin surfaced, and she blushed at his round-about compliment; despite the awkwardness of the situation, her nipples hardened beneath her blouse. Thankfully, Mrs. Blodgett returned before the inappropriate conversation had gone any further and Zach had retreated into the depths of the house.
A week or so later, Elizabeth was on-line searching for a tee-shirt for her nephew, who was just turning one. She happened upon a website that sold all sorts of shirts with slogans on them. Many were vulgar and not appropriate for a one-year-old. Scrolling through the pages, she found one that intrigued her for its humor value. It made her think of Zach and, as a joke, she had ordered it.
* * *
Pulling herself from the memory, Elizabeth released the door knob and skipped up the stairs to her bedroom. She pulled the ratty tee-shirt over her head, careful not to disturb the blonde tresses she had gathered into a ponytail at the back of her head. She stepped into the walk-in closet and dug through the several bags that were piled beneath her rack of clothes. After rummaging through a few of them, tags still on the purchases, she found what she was looking for.
She held the tank top up in front of her, trying to judge what it would look like on her slight frame. She tore the tag from it and pulled it over her head, tugging the ponytail free. She adjusted the snug fabric so it sat properly on her slender torso, exposing two or three inches of bronzed flesh at her belly. Stepping in front of the full-length mirror, she surveyed her appearance: comfortable sandals on her manicured feet; the khaki shorts ending mid-thigh; the white, ribbed tank top with blue lettering across her substantial chest: "Define Married."
Satisfied that she looked presentable – a relative word, to be sure – Elizabeth bounded down the stairs, got into her car and drove through town toward the mountain pass road that led to the Blodgetts' home.
When she pulled into the driveway, she was not surprised to find Zach's dirty Jeep parked haphazardly in front of one of the garage doors. 'Probably went out and got drunk last night,' she thought, noticing that the front wheel of the off-road machine was, in fact, off-road, planted firmly in a flower bed.
Putting her car in Park, Elizabeth got out and walked up the path to the front door. She rang the doorbell once, twice. When no one responded, she opened the heavy oak door with the key the Blodgetts had provided her.
"Hello?" she called out, pausing in the slate-floored foyer. "Zach? Are you here? Zach?"
Nothing.
Shrugging, Elizabeth made her way down the long foyer toward Mr. Blodgett's office to see how the carpenters were coming along. She entered the dusty room, sunlight filtering in through dirty windows. Dust hung in the air, highlighted by intermittent rays of light, casting an unnatural glow throughout the room.
A workbench sat in the middle of the room, a pair of unused sawhorses next to it. Uncut wall panels lay on the floor. The carpenters had managed to mount four panels on the lower part of one of the walls.
Elizabeth picked her way across the room, careful to avoid nails, scraps of wood and other debris. She bent at the knees to check the fit between two of the panels. Satisfied, she scooted over to the next joint. Moving to the third, she heard the soft padding of feet outside the office just before a voice called out.
"Well, if it isn't my pretty little Mrs. Idaho."
Startled, Elizabeth jerked her head around, her ponytail swishing across her bare, tanned shoulders.
