City Planner

I found my equipment in a hockey bag in my basement. It was old and abused and none of it had been washed since I ripped off the sales stickers maybe 10 years ago. I didn't mind the boy's jokes about my stuff in the dressing room but I did mind looking like a fool, so I was worried sick that I was going to fall on my face, literally when I got out on the ice that first time. Still, I was pretty pumped.

Hockey had always been my one love; I had been good at it; it had paid for my education. When I finally settled down on the ice that first practice I rediscovered my joy, a joy shared by my teammates: obviously, I was the team ringer.

I love drinking beer with a bunch of guys after a game — you get to be a kid again ... and, God knows, there's still a lot of kid in me. But there was something else going on as I sat in that tavern and I had just figured it out. It was her. She is smart, serious, focussed and determined. Now, she is smart, serious, focussed and determined for me, too, all I have to do is obey and enjoy the ride. I was feeling like I had a mummy. I never had a mother.

The first moments of that future were to begin at 4:30 on Friday at City Hall. Was I having second thoughts? The brothers asked me that after admitting their total shock — they all loved her, they emphasized that, it's just that ... they couldn't finish, they didn't have the words ... they didn't need to ... I knew precisely what they meant: it's just that it's Erica we're talking about, sharp faced, sharp tongued, sharp actioned, over-controlling, non-smiling Erica who the entire world was just a little afraid of ... ya, no, I got it.

But I wasn't afraid of her any more. Not now. I had surrendered to her. All the aggression? All the demands? All the take-charge bullshit? All the frantic sex? I gave into it and I'm now going into the office with new energy; I'm playing sports again and loving it; I'm getting laid all the time and loving it and I'll be wonderfully looked after, like the old man is and I'll love that.

I had bought the wedding ring before the practice so it was in my pocket. After I knew we were going to have to take cabs home I pulled it out to show it off and it started immediately: Sean twisted it into the side of a draft glass to see if it was real, then, as we drank, we all took turns and by the time we left the glass had a hole in it and we all agreed that, ya, it could be bigger but it was at least real.

There was a dog in one of the places I lived in growing up. He would wander around outside and I'd call him; when he came late he'd come in the house cowering in guilt and to avoid a reprimand he'd crawl under the kitchen table. But sometimes when he came in late I took pity on his cowering and said, 'Good boy, good boy.' Well, that dog would just straighten up, look around and, honestly, he'd get this cocky look on his face, 'Really? I'm a good boy?' — his relief that he wasn't in trouble was wonderfully comical. That's the way I was feeling when I came in feeling a little drunk and a lot guilty ... then she yelled out from the bedroom, 'Hi, have a good game?"

Really? No reprimand? When I straightened up like that dog I laughed at the memory and went in to see her. Her smile even stayed when I nearly tripped myself taking off my left sock.

"Why are we getting married at City Hall with no family?" I said, getting into bed after brushing my teeth for 10 minutes.

She pulled the sheet way back so I could see her. "I bought some new underwear today."

I got in between her legs and rested my cheek on her pussy, like she expected. "Answer my question," I mumbled.

"You don't have any family, it just struck me as unfair for me to show up with all the people who would want to be there ... and that's a lot — aunts and uncles and cousin, they would all want to be there to see the guy who was dumb enough to marry me."

I looked up for a smile. There wasn't one.

"I know what people think of me," she said with her grade #6 frown. "I know I look like a shrew ..."

I laughed, it had never occurred to me but that's exactly what she looks like, an eagle-esque shrew.

She snickered at my laugh, I felt the smile. She squeezed her legs together to pinch my face. "You don't have to agree with them ... but I am, I know, or I was; I'm not going to be any more, that's my wedding gift to you."

I gripped her hips and nuzzled into her pussy then looked up. "I love the shrew, I don't want the shrew to change. Honest."

Maybe for the first time ever she looked confused.

I felt I needed to repeat myself. "Love the shrew; don't change and if you want to have a real wedding with all your family that's fine by me."

She sat up, grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up, lay back down and squeezed me to her; I lay in that vice while she thought, I can always tell when she is thinking, it's like gears are grinding in her.

"Would you like to watch another man have sex with me? Yes or no, don't think about it, yes or no.

At the first thought of it I knew. "You're really hot in bed. Probably. Why?"

"Because I'd like to see you having sex with another woman. Sharon called me and asked me if we'd like to swing with them. It shocked me when I said, I didn't know, I'd get back to her. Would you like to fuck Sharon and watch me fuck Carl?"

"If they were here right now and you asked me I might say sure because I'm a bit loaded. I don't know what I'd say in the morning."

She reached down and took my erection in her fingers. "Sleep on it, and I will. It kind of excites me, I've been lying her thinking about it which explains why I'm wet: I've got a boyfriend, soon I'm going to have a husband; already they want him. People are jealous of me, finally people are jealous of me; people have never been jealous of me."

I think at that moment, even a little drunk, I understood: I was her coming out party; she was just now going to start living.

I had her panties around my neck when I woke up; she was grinning at me. "How do you feel?"

"Great," I lied, pulling the panties over my head. I was about to get up when she pulled me down. "I'm taking tomorrow off and Monday ... make sure you ask for Monday."

"I will." I tried to get up again but she wouldn't let me.

"What about Sharon and Carl ... I'm not pressuring you ... I'm just ..."

"You want to."

"I think I do ... I want to try things with you. Wacky things. You make me want to take my clothes off and go running into the world."

"What happens if I get really jealous? That could happen."

"You stop, I stop, at least we'd have tried it ... then we try something else."

"OK," I said, getting up.

As I was walking to the bathroom she called after me, "You're a totally cool guy."

She phoned me about an hour after I got to work. "We're on. Tonight at 7, their place, we'll grab a quick bite on the way over."

I'm cool, right? I was trying to act like it but it wasn't easy. "OK."

OK, tonight I'd be watching a guy I didn't really know fuck a woman who was going to be my wife ... tomorrow; I tried to get my head around that all day, which whizzed by in utter confusion.

"We should agree on a safe word, as soon as one of us uses it we stop." My idea; we we're snacking at McDonalds.

"Why can't we just sit up and say we don't want to do this any more."

"Too confrontational. If one of us says 'goofy' we both know it's over and we extricate ourselves as politely as possible."

"Goofy, goofy, goofy, I've got it," she looked goofy.

I made yet another attempt to understand the woman ... who I had just watch get into the sexiest underwear I had ever seen. "What do you expect to get out of it, I mean beyond getting laid?" I didn't really want to do this; I was wondering why she did.

"I don't know, that's why it's so exciting. I want to experiment with you, I want adventures and you do, too. Admit it."

There is a huge disconnect between us: anyone can take me at face value and pretty much get me right; no one is ever going to be able to read her ... ever. Adventure? If she undoes the top button of her blouse that's about all the adventure I need.

He put a glass of wine in our hands the moment we got inside, smart, and soon after she offered an admission. They had done this twice before, neither turned out well. "For us it has turned out to be something more fun to think about than actually do," Sharon said. "We sort of like the idea of it but if you don't like it, you're going to find out pretty fast and we stop. OK?"

Two hours later we had been in the car driving home for five minutes when Erica said, not hiding her exasperation, "Well, say something, anything."

"She's right, you could be a porn star."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I wasn't mad or disgusted or anything else except confused. When I had decided to meld my life with her"s I knew she would be volatile, that's part of her attraction, so what did I expect?

"Well?"

"I'm processing." And I was still processing the next morning when Sharon called me around 10. "I want to talk. Do you have the time?"

I didn't. She agreed to call back at 3:00.

She did, at 3 precisely. "I want feedback, Mike, your feedback not her's, I think I know what her's would be."

"I'm processing."

"Well process this." She told me she had 'stirrings' whenever she was around Erica — they had been good friends in high school but hadn't seen much of each other since. When she kissed her last night those stirrings had overpowered her, that was her explanation. Erica hadn't given me her explanation but she owed me one and she knew it — that's why she had been so sullen last night and this morning, guilt, probably, but embarrassment? Probably. Shame? No. All she had said in her defence was that she had never done anything like that before ... but if she hadn't it sure looked like she had wanted to. At the starting gun she had kissed Sharon like she couldn't wait to, then she ate her to what was obviously a mutual orgasm and when it was over she sat there casually with her legs crossed, sipping wine with a scowl.

"I told Carl I was going to call you, not her, you. He knows he was the odd man out; I told him I wanted you both for myself. I told him that if you wanted me to come over ... for both of you, I would ... and that's what I'm telling you."

I tried to hide my shock. "More to process," I commented.

"I've had sex with a few girls, not for awhile — I often think about Erica when I masturbate ... I shock her when I'm doing it; she is reluctant; she fights back a bit then eventually she gives in. When I masturbated this morning she ravaged me like she did last night. Say yes, Mike, I'll be whoever you want me to be. Will you talk to her?"

I laughed. "You mean will I let you gang up on me?"

I could feel her tension through the phone — she wanted this, she didn't think any of this was funny. "I called you, I haven't talked to her, I didn't want to do that to you ... gang up."

"I'll think about it — is Carl OK with it?"

"Don't worry about him ... talk to her, call me or have her call me ... I won't call her, I promise you that and I won't bring it up again if you say no."

"OK."

"OK." I felt like I said OK to her about a hundred times but I didn't really understand what I was saying OK to ... OK, I did but I didn't, not really — there are always consequences.

We had just changed into our Sunday best and were walking to the car when she said, "Are you sure you want to go through with this? It doesn't seem like you do."

"You look very pretty."

"Do you?"

I was in a guy's wedding a few years ago, I didn't actually know him very well, we just played on the same hockey team for a few years. I remember him saying to another of the guys, 'What's the big deal? If it doesn't work out you start over with someone else.' I remember thinking at the time, what an asshole, with attitude like that it can't work out. "You mean because of last night?"

She didn't answer, she didn't think she needed to.

"You are an exciting woman, Erica, you're exciting when you buy fruit, you're exciting when you fry eggs and you're exciting when you kiss old schoolmates — you're exciting and I'm exited that I get a chance to live the rest of my life with you."

She stopped in her tracks. "Do you mean that?"

"Absolutely I do."

"Is that the same as saying you love me?"

"Probably not but driving with you to our wedding? I think that does. Get in the car. I'm in a hurry, I don't want you to change your mind."

She sat with her hands clasped together on her lap. "Why didn't you say that last night ... or this morning. I've had an awful day."

"Pre-marriage jitters."

She looked over at me. "So you're sure about this, absolutely sure?"

"Absolutely sure." Which was a good thing because the event was absolutely abysmal, think getting your drivers's license and you'd be about right. I was glad we had to endure it alone and only for what amounted to a few minutes.

She said we'd be at her parent's place at 6 so we had time to stop for a drink on the way. When we sat down we had said nothing since the 'service,' the procedure, but I could feel her tension. "You OK?"

"I'm Mrs Kendall now ... I'm somebody's property, I never thought that would was ever going happen ..."

"You're hardly ..."

"I've never been filled with more hope, more promise, more love and with ... with more expectations. I get to do the things now I've only dreamed about."

Funny, since the 'I dos' I've only been thinking of her. Looks like she has only been thinking of her, too.

We sat there in silence for awhile. I wanted to ask her what dreams she wanted to start making real but I held off: if she wants to tell me she will.

"Guy called me ..."

"Guy?"

"The builder. We can move in on Tuesday ... I had hoped Monday but those kitchen countertops were late and dad suggested we put in one of those high tech jacuzzi tubs. He says every athlete needs one."

I hadn't heard a thing about kitchen countertops, never mind jacuzzis. "How much is all this going to cost?" I had asked a few times but got nowhere.

"Don't know yet; don't worry about it. It's my wedding gift to us."

I wondered if anyone ever married a woman he knew less well than I know this one — I get fleeting glimpses of her then she's gone, replaced by somebody else. The sour, somber, largely humourless, over-efficient model is the default, but I think that is all about nerves. I see a much warmer model now, for the last few days, ever since the engagement, she often has a smile or a grin or even a look of curiosity as if there is a different way of understanding things than the one that kept her in her doldrums.

And there is a possessive model coming more into focus. She's never had boyfriends for any length of time, probably because she is a combination of overly picky, overly combative and too demanding. I could see her freezing guys out but I could also see guys fleeing. But for some reason or reasons not yet known to me, she decided on me. Her reference to being 'somebody's property' made me feel all the responsibility was mine — I knew I'd be dealing with that phrase for years.

Even though the somber, scowling woman is the default, the sluttish girl surfaced early and I've seen her often. I have a lot of compassion for her. Erica is a very sexual woman and a very physical woman, the kind of woman who needs a steady guy to workout on, that is part of her possessiveness but it is also a definite biological need. Where was this need going? I wondered about this the first hour I knew her and I was still wondering about it. I had decided early not to be judgmental; that was tested last night but I survived ... under no illusions: she is the kind of woman who has affairs. I knew I was going to have to deal with that.

And I'd have to deal with her peccadillos. Her lust for women's bodies was going to be one of them, or was it just Sharon's? I doubted that. What else? The swinging, she loved that; she watched me the entire time she was riding Carl; she appeared to be getting off far more watching me in Sharon than Karl being in her. The underwear thing is kind of strange, it seems more her fetish than mine. She's bought all kinds of new stuff; she models it ever chance she gets, dressing and undressing slowly, and she insist on wearing it to bed. She pulled the panties over my head last night, I didn't.

Then there's the loving girl, that's the yin to her yang. The yang is an entirely self-centred view of the world forged by making her way through life alone and defiant. The loving yin is her desire to give, to be possessed, to be a part of a new whole.

I looked across at her. Mrs Kendall is, at the moment, oddly vulnerable, obviously unsure of herself, and surprisingly fragile. It was my guess that by the end of the night she was going to have it all figured out and the wild ride would begin.

I was relieved there weren't a thousand cars parked at her parent's place, I thought there might be. We were holding hands walking to the front door when she stopped me. "Thank you, Mike, I know you're taking a chance on me; I'm just never going to let you down. Ever."

I bent down and gave her a peck on the lips. "We're in it together, Sweets, I hope you'll remember that."

When I straightened I could see she was frowning. "What's that supposed to mean? And I don't know that?" Her frown turned to her scowl. "I think I get it, Mike; I think I understand that it's the WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF IT ALL."

I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Only you could pick a fight over this ... but, hey, doesn't mean I don't still love you ... hard to understand how someone would pick a fight ... an hour after getting married, but we're all different ... some more different than others ... some so different they're strange."

She gave me a push. "It's you who's picking the fight. What do you mean I have to remember we're in it together. I just agreed to that in a court of fucking law ... I guess I get it."

When I turned to go to the house, and get away from her, I saw the family neatly framed in a window looking at us, everyone of them wearing the same frown as my new wife.

The place literally exploded the moment we got inside. There must have been 50 people along with stacks of presents and a whole lot of good cheer that spilled out into the large backyard with the huge marquee tent.

Sean, the brother, explained it to me, "Everyone of them is here to see if it's really true, if it could really happen, and to meet the guy who has the guts to take her on." He didn't laugh, he didn't even smile; when I suggested some doubt, he said, "No, it's true, the girl scares the shit out of every one of us — I'd go to war with you bro, we all would. You've got some unbelievable courage."

He said this after I'd been in the place for an hour and was all but mobbed. It explained why I was feeling like a zoo animal; people were weirdly fascinated by me like I was a rock star or something; I guess it felt more like I was a returning soldier from a popular war.

We got married again. "Getting married at city hall was simply ridiculous," her mum explained to me, "but I sure wasn't going to argue with her about it." Then she whispered, "That little fight you had outside? She always gets combative when she's nervous, she always has, even as a little girl." She laughed, "particularly when she was a little girl. We all left her alone."

I was driving home; she directed me to a luxury spa/hotel — she had packed suitcases, we would be there for three nights. We drove in absolute silence like we had just left a funeral. Finally she spoke. "I've always hated birthday parties, I would never let mum have them for me; I didn't go to my high school or college graduations, I've never been the centre of attention — I hate the very thought of it. And I wasn't tonight. Tonight Mrs Kendall was and she loved it, she loved that you were there, that you were so great talking to all the people you didn't know. I was really proud of you Mike, I was so proud of you I felt I could burst."