Goose and Gander: My Version

SBrooks challenged people to do a rewrite of his flash story, so I'm taking a whack at it. I've made only a couple of minor changes to his original, but fleshed out the story. I hope that people like it.

*****

'What a miserable day,' I thought as I dragged myself in the front door after another shitty day at work.

As if my hot flashes weren't bad enough, I didn't get the promotion to Assistant Manager that I was expecting. They gave it to Betty Bowman, or Betty Boobs, as we called her. I swear if she had unbuttoned her blouses any further she would have been showing her navel. I'm surprised that she hasn't been sent home and told to change into something more appropriate for the office before, but it never happened. All the other women in the office talk about her behind her back, and now she's going to be the boss of us. Ugghhh!

I had five years' experience on her, and did my job better, but our manager, James Brooks, couldn't get his mind out of her cleavage long enough to form a coherent thought. I would have thought that our affair would have counted for something, but obviously not.

Our affair. God, that was so long ago! I was so fucking stupid to have done that, even though it was fun. I mean, Henry was just clueless, and it didn't seem like he even cared anymore. Oh, he was working hard, too hard, putting in too many hours working to get his own promotion, and it worked for him, but him being tired all the time was leaving me high and dry.

Sex had been so perfunctory, really, not like it had been when we were dating. James was always a flirt around the office - I wonder if he's fucking Betty Boobs now - and he just caught me on a morning when I was frustrated and horny, and I got stupid and went along with it. It was just plain nice to have a man paying attention to me again.

That was the big problem with Henry: it wasn't so much the tailing off of our sex life as it was that he wasn't paying any real attention to me anymore. We were more like friends with benefits, and not even that many benefits. But he was working so hard, trying to get ahead, that there was no way I could even complain.

I never really expected that having kids would have taken so much of a toll on our sex life. Our bedroom was right next to Adrienne's, and I sure didn't want our daughter to hear us. I know that I clammed up during sex with Henry. I'd been a bit vocal before we had kids, but once they were there, I always kept my mouth shut. Maybe he missed that encouragement so much that he just figured I wasn't into it anymore.

With James, I could let go. Oh, not that first time, in the storage closet; that was just so naughty, and such great fun. Once that first fuck was out of the way, and I didn't have to be coy around him, he was able to get us a motel room, and I could let my inner banshee out.

I still couldn't believe I got away with it. Poor Henry just wasn't holding up his end, and I simply needed more than he could give me, and I made sure that he never went without and was careful to never bring back any "surprises."

Of course, James didn't get away with it; his wife found out that he was having an affair, and I guess I am really lucky that she never figured out with whom. She took James back, but he had to break off the affair. In a way, it was strange, like I was getting dumped, but I knew that it couldn't last. We had ten months of fun on the side.

Then there was Michael. He was just a one-night stand, of course, and he didn't really do much for me. One-night stands are easy to get away with, unless you're just plain unlucky, and he just wasn't inspiring enough to even want to try it with again.

That was when I missed my first period. Oh, God, I was so scared, but missing that period didn't mean I was pregnant; it was the start of menopause, and I started that early. Hell, I was only 46!

Menopause was awful! I was moody, I had hot flashes, and damn it all, I still have them now, seven years later! That's just plain not fair. At first, menopause got me cranked up for sex, for weeks at a time, and then, for more weeks, I felt nothing. In the end, it tapered off into just not being interested in sex, period.

Period. Hah, what a fucking joke on me!

Henry was such a love, and never gave me any crap about my lowered libido. At least with my desires being killed, I quit cheating. I'd dodged a bullet with James, and with Michael, and now, seven years later, I've been a good, faithful wife. I guess that's a whole lot easier when you aren't even tempted anymore. I tried my best to be there for Henry once a week, although even with a gallon of lube it was not very comfortable. I couldn't help but wonder if he noticed my lack of enthusiasm, but if he did, he hid it well. I know that, even with his age getting up there too, he still wanted sex.

But the worst part of the affair was that James and I still worked together. Yeah, he'd dumped me, as I knew he had to, but seeing his face, five days a week, forty-eight weeks a year, was a constant reminder. It decreased from a raging reminder to more of a nagging remembrance, but it did make it difficult to put the affair behind me. I think for him it was easier; I was just another conquest along the road. But, other than staring at Betty's boobs, if he was still sniffing around after other women, he was doing it away from work.

I was shocked when I went into our house and saw Henry, freshly shaved, wearing his best suit, and I could smell the cologne I gave him for our anniversary.

"Henry, I didn't know we were going out tonight."

"We're not," he said.

"We're not? Then why are you dressed up?"

"We're not going out," he said, "I'm going out."

"B... But how can you go out alone? Where are you going?"

"I never said that I was going out alone. I'm going out with Janet Carson, the woman who used to be my Personal Assistant, and we're going to the Starlight Club."

"The Starlight Club? That's the best restaurant and club in town. We've never even gone there. How can you take another woman there? We're married!"

"Well, that didn't seem to matter to you when you went there with James Brooks, ten years ago while you were having your affair."

I was momentarily stunned into silence.

"Wh... What are you saying? I never had an affair, with James or anyone else. How can you accuse me like that?"

"Do you take me for a complete fool, Miranda? That I didn't notice the whispered phone calls that ended as soon as I entered the room? That I couldn't see the smirk on James' face when we went to your office parties, the way he monopolized your time? It took all my self-control not to deck the asshole when he pulled you close during the slow dances, and you never moved his hand away when he grabbed your ass unless you saw me watching. You must have had a good laugh when you'd come back after the two of you disappeared and I could smell his cum on your breath. Didn't you wonder why I never kissed you on those nights until after you brushed your teeth?"

"Why didn't you ever say anything? Why didn't you stop me?"

"To what end? You would probably just deny it, or maybe just laugh in my face and dare me to do something about it."

"No, Henry, I would never laugh at you, it was just that..."

"It was just that I couldn't 'hold up my end.' Wasn't that what you said to your friend Sally Porter?"

Oh, my God, I had said that to Sally! She has suspected that I was having an affair, and I was trying to justify it to her. But why the Hell would she have ever told Henry?

"Besides, what could I do to stop you if you wouldn't stop yourself? I couldn't watch you 24/7, and I was damned if I was going to be your jailer."

"Why didn't you divorce me?" My voice was barely above a whisper as my tears flowed openly.

"Divorce? And lose my house, our children and half of our assets? See our children every other weekend and a month in the summer?"

"Then, why now, Henry? Why rub it in my face? That's been over for years, and I've been faithful ever since!"

"Why, my Dear, it should be obvious. First, our children are out of the house, so if you should choose to divorce me, child support and the house are a non-issue. We can simply sell the house and divide the proceeds."

"Di.. Divorce?" I cried, "I don't want a divorce."

"Then don't. It doesn't really matter to me one way or the other.

"As to why rub it in your face? That is a good question, and my answer is simple: revenge. You cheated on me because, in your words, 'I couldn't hold up my end.' Of course, you never said anything to me, never gave me a chance to up my game.

"As I'm sure you've noticed, given the large quantities of lube you've been buying, that since you hit menopause you haven't exactly been holding up your end, as it were.

"I might have still been able to overlook your past indiscretions, leave them buried in the past, if you would have made more of an effort to compensate for your loss of your sex drive. Soaking your pussy with a gallon of lube and lying there like a dead fish, 'doing your duty' wasn't enough."

"It isn't like that," I insisted, "I love making love to you, I never saw it as just doing my duty."

"That's very easy for you to say now, after the shit has hit the fan, but that doesn't change the way it felt to me. We could have played some of those games that you and James had such fun with. Do you remember what you said when I suggested some of those same things to you?"

"I... I..." I stammered.

"Let me refresh your memory; you said, 'That's sick! What kind of a slut do you take me for?' I guess we both know the answer to that now, don't we? You could have given me more blow jobs, which even at the height of our love life were doled out like precious gems, but were handed out to James like so much Halloween candy to trick or treaters."

"No," I said, "It wasn't like that, it wasn't..."

"So now, I'm going to follow the example you set ten years ago, and satisfy my urges elsewhere. You may, as I said, take the option I refused, and seek a divorce. I will not fight you, as I don't believe it will be so burdensome on me as it would have been then.

"Now, if you will excuse me, Janet awaits, and I don't want to be late. Please don't wait up."

With that Henry picked up the flowers that I hadn't seen on the sideboard and went out the front door, closing it quietly behind him.

My legs finally gave out as I sank to the floor, wondering if he wasn't also closing the door on our marriage. As that thought ran through my mind, I realized that I had really done that the first time I turned to James instead of my husband.

What was I going to do? I couldn't lose Henry, I just couldn't! All of my life, all of my love, is invested in Henry and our family!

The question is: how badly did I fuck up? All these years, I thought that Henry didn't know about my affair, I thought that I'd well, gotten away with it. Maybe thinking that I'd gotten away with it was as bad as cheating in the first place.

And now? Henry knew, he found out, figured it out, whatever. I guess that I was more careless than I thought, but that's not the important part. The important part is that Henry's known, all this time, and I guess that it's been festering, been eating on him all along. How on God's earth could he let it lay there, eating at him, for what, nine or ten years now, and keep up the façade for all this time? I mean, it was easy, kind of easy anyway, for me to play it cool, because I wasn't the one who'd been wronged, but him?

Of course, Henry always was the kind of man who never lost his temper. When he was angry, he got quiet, and you could only see it in his eyes, only tell when his voice got quieter.

Still, I've got a chance! Henry said that a divorce was up to me, that he wouldn't fight it if that was what I wanted. He's planning to stay, at least I guess that he is, unless I take action, so he'll be here and I can fight for him. But how do I do that?

I guess the first thing I have to do is forgive him for whatever he does with that bitch Janet. Hell, she knows he's married, why's she going out with him? Did she leave the firm just so she could date Henry? Heck, I thought that she was married!

If Henry comes home tonight, I've got a chance. If he comes home tomorrow morning, well, I've still got a chance. I'm going to be here, and she won't be, and I'm still his wife. Whatever he does with her, I'll have to just buck up and accept it, 'cause he's right about one thing: whatever he does with Janet, I let James do to me. Sauce for the goose, I suppose.

I know I'm going to hate it, but he wants his revenge, stupid as that is, and the only way I'll keep him is if he gets it.

Well, I know one thing I'll have to do: I'll have to see the GYN, see if there's anything she can give me to help my libido. And maybe a sex therapist, someone who can help me figure out how to get my desire going again.

I had practically fallen into the big easy chair, the La-Z-Boy that Henry had in front of the television, I had been so stunned by what had happened tonight. If I closed my eyes, I could smell my husband in his big chair. I finally got up, to fix myself something for supper. At least the kitchen was clean.

But I really didn't feel like cooking, and wasn't even sure that I wanted to eat. At last, I pulled out a chicken pot pie from the freezer; Henry liked to have them around for when he wanted a quick, hot lunch on the weekends. A few minutes in the nuclear machine, and I'd have dinner.

It wasn't much, and I kind of burned my tongue on the hot filling when I didn't think to blow on it to cool it. All that I dirtied up was a small plate and a fork, so I just put them in the dishwasher to be in the next load.

We had 200 fucking channels, and not one thing to watch!

Around ten, I decided: I wasn't going to wait up - Henry had told me not to - but I was going to be fresh and ready for him when he came home . . . if he came home. A shower, a good toothbrushing and some Scope, and if he came home tonight, well maybe that bitch would leave him hornied up enough that I can have him.

I knew what I was going to do. I changed the sheets on our king-sized bed, to our best microfiber ones, clean and white, plus a light comforter, enough to keep us warm at night without being too heavy for making love. I had the lube in the drawer of my nightstand, but hoped that I could get passionate enough that I wouldn't need it so much. Maybe if I got into one of Reed Richards' romance stories, it would put me in the mood!

I finished one of my favorites, Passion at Penn State, a quick one, and I always liked that. Then it was on to his long series, the Chronicles of Mark and Jennifer, which was just so passionate, even though I've read it several times.

Oh, my God, I was on the sixth chapter, where Mark and Jennifer finally make love, when I heard the door. Henry had come home! I was ready, and in a romantic mood, ready to be with my husband, when the bedroom door opened. Then he boomed, "Get out, Miranda! You can sleep in Simon's old room, but Janet and I are using this bed."