Don’t Go in There
“What in the hell is going on, Sarah? Why are you acting so funny? Where’s Monica?
“Jason, I…”
Sarah turns to the window, brow knitted, trying to think of how to tell him. Damn her, she thinks, why did she have to do this today while I’m here?
“I…”
“Sarah, what’s is wrong? Just tell me where Monica is.”
“Ok, remember New Year’s Eve? Remember when you and Monica had that fight?”
Jason hesitates, grabs hold of the edge of the table. It was just a spat. They were both drunk, him stupid and drunk. Monica had said things, crazy things, but she was drunk, for god’s sake.
“Where in the hell is my wife?”
“You don’t have to yell.”
Sarah turns away, biting her lip, looking toward the kitchen wall, staring at it. She looks back at Jason. Then he hears it. Very low, hardly noticible. Living in an apartment complex, you get used to ignoring the sounds of all those lives going on around you. But this is coming from inside the apartment; this is coming from the bedroom.
Jason walks over to the wall, reaching out, touching it. He looks back at Sarah.
“Who’s in there Sarah?”
“Jason, you told her you wanted her to do it.”
“I was drunk, Sarah. I was shit-faced drunk.”
But he remembers. Remembers showing the guys all the porn on his computer. How they all laughed, telling him he was a pervert. How Monica was standing there with her arms folded over her chest. How he laughed while Barry explained to Monica what cuckolding was. How pissed she was. How, when he kept laughing, she’d told him he might just get what he wanted. How the guys had joked and said they’d help out anytime. It was all so funny then. What had he said to her? Do it and make me happy for once. Something like that.
Jason starts toward the hall. The noise seems so much louder now. Does he hear moaning? Is that Monica moaning? The bedroom door looms, white and huge. He has to see, has to know.
“Don’t go in there.”
His hand on the doorknob, Jason barely hears Sarah. But he hears Monica now.
“Give it to me. Fuck me like a whore. Harder.”
He turns the knob.
“Jason, don’t go in there.”
He pushes the door open.
And there is Monica, there is his wife. And Brad.
LonelyHeartsClub
Love you, Angela. From your slave, David.
lit major
A great short story. It takes a while to realize what is going on. But boy, does it get exciting after that! I love your stories, Angie.
markoh
grrrirl friend. you make me hott. you have always managed to push buttons, i didn’t know i had sometimes without knowing you were pushing them. i LOVE ya for it. lets play sooooon…please?
Geoff
Good stuff. I would have wanted more lurid details though.