A Load in Every Hole Ch. 02

Megan saw the guilty look on my face.

"You don't have to answer. I can see it on your face," she began. "Remember Merr, I've been through four divorces. And every time when the guy said he was leaving I had a crisis moment, even if they were my fault. For a while I wanted to screw everything in sight just to prove I was still the bomb.

But that isn't the real problem here sugar. Hell, if you tell him what you did it probably would just turn him on. The problem is that you're starving him! Starving him! Then you let him head off to Sin City USA with a stone cold 29-year-old beauty, and you expect him to act like Pope Paul. What on earth were you thinking?

That's called taking your mate for granted babe. Of course, he's going to be tempted to break out. He's itchy as a prisoner serving a fifteen-year term."

"Just please stop talking for a second, okay?" I demanded in desperate need of time to process.

I wasn't a person who did anything rashly, I never was. And what I was hearing now may have been what you need to hear, not what you want to hear as Meg had said, but it made it no easier to hear.

After a pause I said, "I'm not going to ask you what you'd do, Megan. You've been married four times in seventeen years and all four ended in divorce, so I don't think you're qualified to speak on how to keep a marriage together," I added.

"Not true, and do you know why?" Megan asked. "I lost all four guys because I couldn't keep my legs crossed, but that's on me, not them. Let me tell you this, though, Ms. Smarty-Pants, none of my guys ever cheated on me, not once, and when they left, it for fucking sure wasn't because I wasn't giving them what they wanted in bed.

Mary, I've screwed all four of my exes after we divorced, some several times. Jeff and I went straight from the closing of our divorce at the law office to the hotel across the street and did it all afternoon. We're still great friends to this day, I just couldn't stay true to him. So, if you want to know how to keep a man happy in the bedroom, I'm your girl. Just don't ask me how to stay true to one guy, because that I cannot do."

I stared at my empty drink and contemplated what Megan had said. She reordered another round.

"Come on, let's get something to eat. The world didn't just come to an end. Let me ask you another question: were there tongues?"

"What are you talking about? Tongues?" I asked confused.

"Tongues, you know, the pink thing in your mouth. When Lisa kissed him did, she give him tongue?"

"I don't know! I didn't ask!" I flushed. "Why would that make any difference?"

"It makes all the difference in the world Merr," she answered, "no tongues mean a chaste 'I want you to love me for all time' kiss. Tongues means 'I want you to throw me down on the bed, tie me up, and ball my brains out. The two are entirely different approaches."

"I don't know. I have no idea!" I responded.

"Well, it might be a good idea to find out," Megan volunteered.

Our food came just then, and it was a welcome relief. I ate, then drank my second Martini in silence.

"I can help with this if you'll trust me Merr. Would you at least try something for me? It may seem out of place right now, but I promise it isn't," she concluded.

"It depends," I said guardedly.

"When is the last time you felt truly sexy?" Megan asked.

"I don't know," I answered, maybe this morning in the shower. I looked at myself in the mirror and... I looked good, great even. I felt like... you know... that I'd be attractive to any number of men. I chatted up one of the young guys at the gym. He made me feel a little warm."

"A little warm?" Megan challenged.

"Okay, more than a little warm," I admitted.

"Good!" Megan followed, "Lovely! That's what I want you to leverage right now. You don't feel sexy because you put these blinders on. You've always got to be the good girl, the good little wife who makes sure all the bills are paid and the kids are all set and that you spend your time at the hospital volunteering and that everything works for everyone else and you can't be criticized for being unfaithful or a 'temptress.' You can't afford to think of yourself the way you really are, a gorgeous sexy woman who sets men's minds to yearning, because good girls don't think like that. Well, you need to think like that, at least a little, for Mark's sake.

Let's try a game of what if. What do you say? Right here, right now, you and me. You know the rules. Nothing needs to happen, it's all up in our head, just the two of us. How can a harmless little game hurt anything?"

"What if" was a game Megan made up and we played when we were in college. We'd go to a local pub or pizza place filled with eligible males and Megan would ask "what if you weren't dating Mark [or one of the boyfriends before him]? Who would you do? What would you do to get him to bed? What would you let him do once he got there?" The games got more and more decadent as we drank more and more beer.

"Come on Merr! Just play with me a little! Let's have some harmless fun. Now, you go first. What if you weren't married to Mark. Look over the whole room and tell me who you'd go after?"

"I don't have to survey the room," I said, "the dark looking guy in the bar with the rough shave wearing the navy blazer and olive slacks" I responded.

"That was quick!" Megan responded, surprised. "See, you are alive. Part of you was working the room, looking over eligible men even while we were in the middle of our talk. That's a start. Now, gimme the rest. Tell me what you'd do to get him into bed. And tell me what you'd let him do to you, or what you'd do to him, once you got him there," Megan whispered conspiratorially.

After a long pause debating whether to continue Megan's folly, I began, "I'd do a lap around the place to make sure no one from our church or Mark's work is here. Then I'd walk up to him and ask if the seat was taken—was he expecting someone?

If he wasn't I'd find out about him, see if he was likeable, sexy, interesting. If I liked him, really, really liked him, I'd tell him that I was married, but that my husband was away in Las Vegas for the week. I might even tell him that he'd cheated on me to let him know that I was angry and anxious to play. I'd tell him that he was the best-looking man in the bar. But I wouldn't give him my number, I'd get his so that the final decision was in my hands," I replied.

"And..." Megan said prompting, "no holding out. What would you let him do to you, Merr?"

"I would let him kiss my lips and my neck... and... maybe my... my... breasts and, if it felt good, I'd... get him off somehow. I don't know how. Not screw him, but make sure he was satisfied. Really satisfied."

"Okay, that's a start," Meg said lightly, "how do you feel? Right now?" Megan asked, "down there," she continued, nodding at my skirt, right now."

"Warm," I replied.

"Wet," Megan prodded.

"A little," I admitted quietly.

"Good! Now you're starting to live a little. It's fun, isn't it? It always was. Sometimes it's fun not to be so damned in control all the time," Megan concluded.

After a pause to finish our food and drinks, Megan reinitiated the conversation.

"Do you know where the best sex happens?" Megan asked.

"Is this a trick question? I asked, "In the bedroom?"

"No silly girl, right here," she said holding her hands up to her head. "In the head. I once caused Bill to cum just by tying him to a chair and masturbating in front of him. I never touched him all I did was blow in his ear and on his cock while I masturbated and boom! Off he went, same time I did.

You know how? I talked to him non-stop during the work up about his buddy Max from work. When I jilled off, I told him I was dreaming of Max (which was unfortunately true), and about how Max had tied me up and was screwing me in the ass. That's all it took. I have no idea why it was Bill's fantasy, but it was. I untied him and he and I went at it all night after that and it was fantastic.

Now Merr, prove to me that you have the courage to walk over there, introduce yourself to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious, and make your own fantasy. In fact, I'll bet you two hundred dollars right now that you can't go over, introduce yourself, and sustain enough of a conversation to get his cell number. I'm not asking you to do anything else with him. It's just a game, and it will just be an unused number unless you choose otherwise."

"$200, right?" I asked, the drinks liberalizing me, "not only will I go over and introduce myself, but I'll also get his telephone number within thirty minutes. He'll be begging to give it to me!" I heard myself say far more bravely than I felt.

"That's my girl," Megan responded laughing. "Now, let's make it a real bet. If you don't get his number, you owe me $200. Right?"

"Deal," I said, shook her hand, and stood to leave, giving her our traditional middle finger salute as I left, but somewhere between our table and the empty seat on the bar, my nerve failed me, and doubts assaulted me. What if someone from Mark's work is here? What if someone from church sees me? I turned to return to Megan but her smug smile and hand extended with open palm to receive her check angered me so much that I turned right back around.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked the dark young man.

"Yes, now!" he responded excitedly. The look he gave me was all the affirmation I would need for the week, maybe longer. It was a look of honest ungoverned joy, a clear first impression with no modifier applied by the frontal lobe. And in that unchecked honesty his eyes, body, mouth, all expressed the same thought: My God! She's beautiful and she's here!

"My name is Mary" I began, extending my hand.

"I am Miguel," he replied shaking it. He had a sultry Spanish accent. Not Mexican, Castilian, from the mainland, a liquid sensuous vibrato that made me want to peel off clothing. He looked "nice" from across the room but up close he was far more handsome, with smooth tanned skin, a strong jaw, beautiful white teeth, sensuous lips, and eyes that smoldered.

"What brings you to town, Miguel?" I asked barely pulling myself out my trance, "you don't sound like you're from Fargo."

"I am from Barcelona. My company is considering buying one of your local firms, and I am here on the mission," he replied.

"Welcome," I said with my brightest smile, and immediately panicked at the dead airtime between us.

"I am glad you came over," he volunteered, saving the day.

"You are?" I asked.

"Si... yes, absolutely. When I came into the bar, I wished I had someone to eat with, or share a drink with, but I know no one here. I looked around and thought, 'who would I most like to share a drink or dinner with?' And then I saw you, and I said to myself 'her,' she is an angel, smart, sexy, lovely, but she looks upset. I wonder why? But you were with your friend, so I gave up hope that I would ever meet you. And now, a miracle, here you are! So, it was meant to be!" he finished enthusiastically.

We chatted, cautiously and respectfully at first, then more warmly, for what I thought was twenty minutes, but Megan later told me was an hour. We talked about who we were, our children, our spouses, what Barcelona was like, the best places in Spain to visit, about the fact that there really was a summer in Fargo even though that didn't seem possible in March that there could be one. It was intoxicating just being near him.

Then the conversation turned back to my situation.

"And so where is your... Mark?"

"He's an accountant, traveling for work, like you, but in Las Vegas."

"Ahhh! Sin City they call it, do they not?" he asked.

"With good reason it turns out," I said petulantly.

Miguel's interest intensified and reading his face it was not hard to understand why: he sensed opportunity. An attractive and obviously unhappy wife, bitter about something her husband had done, had just plopped into his lap.

"He has disappointed you, no?"

"Yes," I said, giving no explanation.

"And so, you seek a pleasant conversation with someone else, perhaps to make you feel a little better? Yes?"

"Yes," I admitted, "and perhaps even a little more than conversation," I whispered, the last few words emerging in a rasp.

Miguel smiled knowingly and shouted, "revenge!" with a laugh.

"May I tell you something, perhaps that will surprise you?" he asked, reaching for my hand. It made me jump, but he patted it protectively and gave me time to settle.

"Perhaps," I replied, my anxiety rising, "but I've already heard some surprising things today, so I'm not sure how much appetite I have for more."

"You are a spectacularly lovely and sensuous woman, the kind of woman any man would be pleased to be with, in whatever way he could, and I am certainly one such man. But I do not wish to take advantage of you," he concluded.

"Thank you for that," I replied, surprised. "I'm confused right now, and angry," immediately chastising myself for revealing so intimate an emotion to a total stranger. "I'm not sure what I want," I added, then laid my cards more squarely on the table, "but I know that if I were to seek the company of another man, my dream would be of a man like you."

Miguel smiled broadly and hugged my shoulders lightly.

I was so stunned at my boldness that I physically cringed, staring down at the fresh drink Miguel had ordered for me, my third of the night.

"How long is your husband away?" Miguel asked.

"A week," I responded.

"I will give you my telephone number. What you are thinking of, it is worth thinking about, no? he asked.

"Yes. Yes, it is," I whispered quietly, the enormity of what I had just proposed fresh on my mind.

"You can call me at any time, just to chat... or, to arrange to meet again... for any reason, yes?"

"You are very kind," I said. "and now I should probably get back to my friend," I answered.

"Yes, that would be the thing to do." Miguel scribbled his number down on a business card with all his other information and handed it to me.

"But before you go, know this," Miguel said, pausing. "If you were to make the choice to grace me with yourself, I would make you feel as beautiful as you are. I would make you sigh like the wind and scream like the storm.

Now, let me give you something more to talk with your friend about," he said handing me his card. He leaned over, holding my left hand in his right, and lifted my fingers to his lips. He placed his warm lips on and around two of my fingers, applying a small amount of suction to them. I thought my heart might jump through my chest. What happened next aroused me even more.

Miguel's face and arm blocked what he did from the rest of the bar and thank God it did! He slid his left hand down the bar until his fingers rested just below my left breast. I felt them as he caressed it cautiously, gently, turning his hand until he held my supercharged nipple between his thumb and forefinger before delivering a surprisingly vigorous pinch. I jerked up as if shot, stood, and turned to get back to Megan, nearly toppling on my heels in the process. Miguel's hand reached out to steady me.

I nodded a curt thanks to him for his assistance and returned to Megan.

"Wow! He's sexy as hell babe. Good choice," Megan offered on my arrival.

"So, this is the voyeuristic part of the deal that I really like. Tell me how you feel, right now?" Megan asked.

"Shaking!" I admitted, "scared. He touched me! He touched me, Megan!"

"He just kissed your fingers homegirl, not something to get all twittery about is it?" she asked.

"No, yes. No, you don't understand. When he kissed my hand, he sucked two of my fingers into his mouth and I... like... went off!" I said breathily, "but that's not all. When he was kissing my hand he sneaked a grope of my left breast, even pinched my nipple. I was totally shocked."

"Wow!" Megan followed, "that went a little farther than I thought it would."

"He's soooo sexy Megan," I continued, "and that voice. Good God that voice. I wanted to take off every stitch of my clothing when he started talking to me. It could have been talking about a warm front and I think I would still have disrobed for him if he'd just asked."

"Oh my God girl! You are smitten!" Meg replied.

"And?" she followed.

"And what?" I asked, puzzled.

"Do I owe you $200, or do you owe me?" she asked.

I held the small business card bearing Miguel's personal phone number up between two fingers.

"Damn girl, you win!" Megan said excitedly, pulling her phone out to Venmo me the $200. That completed, she pressed on. "What now?" she asked.

"What do you mean what next?" I began. "It was just a game! It's over."

"Is it?" Megan asked. "Do you want him?"

"I think so, yes!" I said excitedly, "I did. I do. I do want him. If I weren't married, if there were no consequences, I would want him. Not like before, not just satisfy him and nothing for me. I'd rape him. I'd beg him to take me. Jesus! I can't believe what I'm saying Meg. I'm so nervous I want to puke, but the feelings are there, and I don't think it's going to go away," I responded.

"Bingo!" Megan said. "That may be the best $200 I've spent in the last year. It proves to me once again that Mary Anne Bilko Terry is still alive. Remember kid, I was the one who walked in on you and the Phil and Bill twins, the three of you fucking like crazed weasels. I was there for your first jay. Hell, I was there for strap-on Saturdays Mary!"

"Don't say those things out loud here Meg!" I begged, looking around nervously to see if anyone had heard her.

"Remember this," Megan continued, "the girl that did all those things is still inside you and you can't bury her, no matter how hard you try. But here's the most important question of the evening—you ready?" she asked.

"Maybe," I responded hesitantly.

"What's next?" Megan asked simply.

I grew silent. I didn't have an answer to the question and I'm not sure Megan truly expected me to give her one. The days' events had deeply unsettled me and made my life a moving target. The things I took for granted yesterday no longer existed and the ground was shifting beneath my feet so quickly that I felt sure I would fall.

"You want my suggestion about the most important part of it?" Megan asked.

"Probably," I joked, and we both guffawed.

"Let Mark in, share it with him! Tell him how mad you feel, tell him about the guys in the gym, about what you did in the shower, what you did tonight, how good Miguel looks to you, how he kissed your hand, how he touched you and how wet it made you feel, let him know you have Miguel's cell number right there in your hand. It can't hurt to remind him that you're a beautiful, vibrant, sexy, enormously attractive woman, can it? But tell him! The only time I ever got in trouble with any of my exes is when I hid stuff, the only time!

And get him to share what's in his head. Right now, he's mad and afraid, just like you. He knows he's hurt you, but he loves you, he's worried about you, and he thinks you've been rejecting him, part of what he is, which is his desire itself. He needs to know that he's not a dirty little boy wanking off in the closet, Merr."

"Meg, he was very literally a dirty little boy wanking off in an arcade closet," I answered quickly.

"So What?" Megan said, laughing. "So... fucking... what? He's your dirty little boy Merr, and you need to get back into that head of his before it goes somewhere you don't like. You trusted me tonight with the Miguel thing, trust me on this."

"Maybe..." I said hesitantly.

"If you let him in," Megan raced on, "If you truly accept him for what he is and listen to what he wants, I think you'll be stunned at how well it goes. You think it's enough just to love him. It isn't. You need to be his lover too, the one he thinks about when he reaches for his cock, even if his eyes are on some bimbo in a video."