I Don't Like Liars

"Configure?" I laughed. "What is this, rocket science?"

"There's a net I need to strap to the back if the tailgate has to be open. How long's your couch?"

How long's your dick? I almost blurted it out, but instead I just glanced out my bedroom door at where the couch brooded in the living room. I'd rented the place furnished, but the couch was my own. "How the hell should I know? Long enough for me to take a nap on."

"That doesn't help much, Tara," he laughed. "Don't you have a tape measure?"

"No, dickhead, I do not have a tape measure," I laughed back. "You'll just have to play it by ear when you get here." Something clouded my mind then, something dark. Secret. Something I wasn't sure about. "Or you could come over tomorrow. Or Wednesday. With your big, long tape measure?" I giggled. "I'll let you take all the measurements you want, Aaron."

The pitch hung out there, a fastball waiting to be swung on, though of course there was no way he could ask me any questions about where I lived, or when I'd be home. I suddenly knew with absolute certainty that he'd be coming over to my house, and that he wouldn't be telling Kelly. Which thrilled me far more than it should have, even though his voice was still carefully neutral. "That could work."

"Yeah," I hissed, low and eager, "that could definitely work." I needed to seal the deal. "I'll send you my address. You can come over anytime tomorrow. I'll just be sitting around, boxing up my shit." I spoke rapidly, not wanting to let him out of this. If he even wanted to be let out. "I'll take a break from packing when you come over. We can sit around and relax."

His voice was thicker when it came back. "Yeah. That sounds great, Tara."

"Good. I'll look forward to seeing you, Aaron." My body quaked as I hung up, staring wildly at myself in the mirror. Wondering what the fuck I was up to. Trying to figure out if this was just the usual thing, just Tara being herself, or whether there was more to it.

But I did know that when I texted him my address, I'd be sending him a Lake picture. Nothing too sexy, but definitely something that he'd remember me by.

* * *

I was still in bed the next morning, shivering under my comforter because the landlady had turned the thermostat way down, when Aaron called to tell me he was on his way. For a puzzled moment I just stared at my clock and tried to remember who he was and why he'd be coming, but then everything clicked. "Oh. Yes. You're coming by with a tape measure."

"And the skills to use it," he chuckled. "The map app says I'll be there in ten minutes."

I pondered. I slept nude, and my feet were warm enough that I didn't want to get out of bed. "So here's the thing, Aaron," I began after clearing my throat, "Kelly says you're an awesome husband. Are you an awesome husband?"

He didn't pause. "The awesomest."

I raised my eyebrows. I liked that. "Like, awesome enough that you'll swing by Harborside and get me a coffee on the way here? Something hot and sweet?"

He laughed, a deep and rumbling sound. "Only if I get one for myself. And then you pay."

"That's fair." I frowned, wondering how far I should go. "I'm still in bed, Aaron. So don't expect me to dress up."

"It's your house," he pointed out. "I'm not going to tell you what to wear."

Ah. Good. Chivalry was not dead. I debated about telling him I was naked. "Is Kel with you?"

"Nah. Remember? She's working this week."

"Oh." I smiled to myself. "Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. Good. See you soon!" At least I wouldn't have to be on my best behavior under Kelly's eye, and if I dressed a bit scantily? She'd never find out. This was a problem, though. I could show off for the charming Aaron, but unfortunately the apartment was freezing. And, really, it wasn't like I had any business showing him anything.

Although, I reflected, after the Lake picture I'd sent? It wasn't like I had a lot of secrets.

On the face of it, the pic was just a woman sitting on the back of a boat, getting ready to slide into a pair of waterskis. It had been taken by my friend Jess, who'd managed to catch my four best features in one shot: a thick mop of flaming red hair, my wry smirk, a proactive pair of nipples responding to the cold water by trying to puncture the tankini top, and a pleasant little crease of cameltoe down below as I'd flexed my feet to find the ski. I'd sent it off after due consideration about what would happen if Kelly found it on his phone, but it was just barely innocent enough that I could claim I was just trying to refresh his memory.

But still. There'd been a lot tamer shots in my album. He'd received it with no reply at all, but that didn't bother me. The man had shown himself to be a flirt; he'd find a way to give some kind of answer. And maybe it wouldn't hurt to give him a reason, I decided as I kicked off my covers. For a fleeting second I thought of just throwing on a bathrobe and sprawling around in nothing else, but no. Too much. So I plucked out a clean, lacy thong and threw it on beneath a pair of low-slung sweat bottoms, with an oversized sweatshirt over top. I'd cropped it a little after my ex-husband's dog had tried to eat it, leaving a slice of my belly out in the breeze; I rolled the top of my sweats over once, just because. The collar had ripped out too, long before, leaving my shoulder bare: it would be obvious I wasn't wearing a bra.

I didn't know why I liked that, but I did. I peered around, yawning in my early-morning fug, and decided I didn't really have much cleaning to do. I was moving, and it was two days after Christmas, and he was coming in a few minutes. Why worry about it? So I jabbed my feet into my fluffy slippers and collapsed onto my couch, facing my front door as my internal clock counted down, waiting for Kelly's new hubby.

He didn't keep me waiting long, a soft knock on the door telling me my coffee had arrived. "It's open!" I called out, feeling a flutter in my stomach just behind my belly button. "Come on in." The knob turned, the door sticking as it always had in the winter. I watched it shake as my visitor applied his ass or shoulder, the door finally bursting open hard enough to smack against the opposite wall. "You're going to break my apartment, dick."

"Better than spilling the coffee." He slipped in, wearing jeans and a hoodie, his eyes curving down to check the damage he'd caused. "Does it matter? You're moving anyway."

"Hell fuck yes it matters. I want my damage deposit." I wasn't pissed about it, though: the knob had made a million dents in that same wall over the years, and would make a million more once my landlady found another sucker to fill the space. I brushed my frazzled hair back off my forehead and gave him a grin. "Come, boy, and bring me my coffee."

He strode toward me with a paper cup in each hand, the room already filled with thick cinnamon-coffee smells. "You're paying, remember?"

"If I ever decide to get off the couch, I'll get you some money. Might even tip you." I flicked a glance down past his hoodie, seeking a bulge in his loose jeans, but I couldn't really see anything. My eyes rose back toward his, making strong contact. "I feel like this is our first time meeting. Like, I'm finally more than just a random friend of Kel's."

"That's right." His smile warmed the whole room. "I'm Aaron."

"Tara. Merry Christmas." I nodded down at the other end of the couch. "Take a load off. Stay awhile."

"Thanks," he grunted, plunking himself down. I watched as he sipped at one of the cups, then the other after a squint. He nodded and held one out. "This one's yours."

I laughed as I took it. "Do you always taste other peoples' beverages?"

"I forgot which one was yours. I had them add vanilla. Thought you might like it." He settled in, crossing an ankle carelessly over his knee. "It's fucking freezing in here."

"Yes. My landlady is a vile, loathsome bitch." I sipped the coffee, excellent as everything was at Harborside, my lips feeling a complicated little spark knowing they were sucking at the lid right where his own lips had just been. "The only warm place is the bed, and I think it would be unwise to invite you in there."

"Might," he agreed, "but sometimes, being wise is boring." He eyed me as I laughed. "Why'd you say it was 'good' that Kel didn't come with me?"

I arched an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "Just seemed like kind of a weird response."

"It's just easier," I sighed. "I love Kelly, but if the three of us were here I'd be nervous. Skittish. I don't think I'd just be myself." I cocked my head, the coffee delicious on my tongue, warming me all the way down. "I like being myself. Thanks for the drink, dude."

"Yeah, Kelly doesn't even know I'm here. The coffee was a good choice?" He watched me drink. "Great. I wasn't sure."

"Seemed like you were," I purred. I was feeling great, and curled my feet up under my butt. The fact that he was here without Kel knowing was somehow thrilling. "You seem like a pretty confident guy, overall."

"It's all an act," he smiled, but we both knew that wasn't really true. "I'm in real estate. It helps. You're sort of a firecracker yourself, Tara."

"I can be," I nodded. "My ex thought I was way too much."

He peered at me through stylish glasses. "I didn't know you'd been married."

"Before the other day, you didn't know my name, bud. You can admit it." We smiled. "But now you do."

"Now I do." He raised his coffee. "Here's to knowing your name."

"Here's to being known." We touched the cups together, his eyes crinkling up. "So. You want to measure stuff."

"I'd love to." He reached self-importantly to his belt, which had a shiny Stanley tape measure clipped to it.

"Ooh. That's a seriously professional-looking tool you've got there." I gave him an open-mouthed grin so that he'd take it the right way.

"Yeah. This thing was handed down from my grandfather." He made an exaggerated look to the side. "Kidding. I just now got it at Home Depot."

"Cute." I watched as he leaned over and set his cup down, fiddling with the tape measure. It was hard for me to believe he was here with me, as innocuous as it probably was. "You could measure all kinds of things with that."

"Probably." He sat there, staring narrowly at me, both of us unsure what exactly was going to happen next. For me, it was enough just to enjoy the morning in that chilly living room, watching him sip.

Until I stirred, smiling when I remembered our last phone call. "Did you want to guess?"

"Guess?" His smile went a bit hollow, head cocking quizzically. "Tara, I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

I let my smile go smug. "Which bridesmaids hooked up with which groomsmen at your wedding, Aaron?" I watched his eyes crinkle again as he got it. "It sounded like a subject that interested you on the phone."

"My groomsmen," he began, shaking his head, "are among the most vicious, shallow, misogynistic assholes in history. They're loyal. Good friends. But awful people. I'd never want to think about any of those delicate, pure bridesmaids doing anything with any of them."

My lips curled into an ironic smirk now. "Delicate." I'd once seen Zoey, the ballerina-sized bridesmaid at the end of the row, take three dicks at once at a frat party, emerging with a broad smile and jizz all over her little body. "Yeah, you don't know the half of it. Every one of those girls is a first-class slut." I winked broadly. "Except, of course, for your lovely wife. Kelly was a virgin when she married you." We both laughed hard at that one.

"Oh, it's fine," he shrugged, waving a dismissive hand. "I know she's got a past."

"More like a present." I smiled, passing it off as a joke, but his eyebrows rose. "I'm joking," I added quickly.

"Present?"

"No, no. It's the past." I'd meant the bachelorette party, just a week ago, where she'd gotten laid by Steve The Stripper before going home with Justin The Stripper. But Aaron hardly needed to hear that, even if she was a fucking liar about his penis size. I winked. "The recent past, but still the past."

"Yeah," he sighed, a little vaguely, but then he was looking speculatively at me. "And you?"

"Me?" I guffawed. "I'm as slutty as they come, sweetie." On impulse, I hooked my ripped collar and pulled it down just a tad. "A total whore."

"I doubt that."

"No, really." I lowered my voice in mock seriousness. "I did one of the strippers at the bachelorette party."

"So?" He matched my tone. "Some of my guys did some of our strippers at my bachelor party. It happens."

I waited, staring across at him, my hands clasped around the cup. This had rapidly moved out of whatever comfort zone I'd established, but I had no problem establishing a new one. I wondered whether Aaron did. "Okay," I said at last, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure." His thumb was playing with the little locking button on the tape measure, but neither of us was thinking about that thing anymore.

I cleared my throat. "Did you talk to your groomsman and compare the strippers' bodies to Kelly's?"

He drew back, eyes slitting. "Why would I do that?"

"Because Kelly did," I told him quietly, "but if you tell her I told you, I'll gouge your eyes out and make you eat them."

He chuckled. "Graphic. You've got a way with words."

"I had three older brothers. I spent my formative years hearing them either threaten to kill each other, or brag about how many girls they were banging. They weren't shy with their mouths." I held his gaze. I was serious, though some part of me realized that if I told him, and he brought it up to Kel, there was no way she'd fail to figure out I'd leaked. Even if he swore I hadn't. So telling him was reckless, and there was no good reason to do it... except that I was certain Kelly had lied to me.

And I don't like liars.

"Seriously, dude." I let my smile fade and my eyes go flinty. "This is one of those things she'll be really pissed about. So make sure you want to hear it. And then make sure you can commit to keeping your mouth shut." I sat back on my couch and yawned. "And if you can? If you want me to? I'll tell you."

He nodded slowly, rubbing a clean-shaven chin. "Okay. Shoot."

"Fine." I let my smirk return, enjoying the game. I was glad we were still playing, and I was ready to mess with the rules a bit. "So her bachelorette party had three strippers. One of them was a personal trainer, Steve. Nice guy. I'd seen him do a private event once before, and he and I hooked up. So when we were planning it, I recommended him and his buddies. They came over, did their show, yadda yadda." I winked. "Kisses happened. Screams were heard. Dancing occurred. Dicks were sucked. The usual shenanigans." I watched him carefully during this next part. "And, like I said, I went home with one of the strippers. He balled the shit out of me."

"Literally?"

The question surprised and exhilarated me. He was playing my game. "No. I don't really do anal. But the next day, I told your sweet, innocent young bride what had happened. And I'm telling you, Aaron, this dude was strapped. He had a fucking cannon down there. Like, long and thick and good. Great endurance. Lots of fun." He nodded, his coffee forgotten on the side table. "And that's when it happened. I told Kel about that, and she just shrugged and said he was on the small side." I met his eyes and held them. "By comparison."

He cocked his head once he realized I was waiting for a reply, then frowned. "Comparison."

"She said," I told him with great deliberation, "that her loving, attentive husband was even bigger than that stripper." I slid my eyes down to his jeans, and let him see me do it.

He stilled, his face going slowly but definitively red. Which I found cute. "Wait. Really? She said that?"

I pursed my lips, feeling mischievous suddenly. We had a secret now, he and I. A real one. I liked that. I leaned forward, my voice going gossip-low. "Yep. She said you were bigger than any of 'em. Want to know what she really said?" He stayed still, and I wanted to tell, so I took that as consent. "She said something like 'take it from me. I've seen both that stripper and Aaron cum on my tits.' Then she smiled all smug and shit." I winked, then nodded. "You can see why I was a little shocked."

His voice came out with forced nonchalance. "Why are you telling me this?"

I licked my lips. "I'd tell you, Aaron, but I think you'd be a little bit scandalized."

He chuckled. "Like I'm not already?"

I shrugged. "Just saying. Don't ask questions if you don't want answers, because I don't sugarcoat. Still want to know why I'm telling you?"

His smile was faint. "Yes. Pretty please. With sugar on top." So he could still flirt. Good boy.

I sipped at my coffee again, which was starting to taste better and better as the game went further. "Well. Okay. I'm telling you because, meaning no offense to you, I think she's full of shit."

His forehead creased, he sat there while he digested what I had said. I could tell once he'd worked his way through it all, his head shaking slightly. "Unbelievable."

"Oh, totally. This guy was hung."

"No," he sighed, looking sadly over at me. "I mean, it's unbelievable you think she was lying."

I cocked my head, knowing I was still smirking. "Aaron," I began, trying to hold back my excitement, "you didn't see this guy."

"No, but Kel did. And she's seen me. So?" He shrugged and relaxed back onto the cushions. I loved this kind of thing. There's nothing like raw sex talk with a stranger; it's so naughty, and yet so harmless. Well, usually it was harmless. This was my best friend's husband, so maybe not... "I mean, has she ever lied to you before?"

"I've known her since first grade, so yes. She's probably told me a thousand lies," I snickered.

"No, but about something like this?" His legs were still crossed, and so far he showed no sign he was getting hard. I thought he probably would, though, soon enough. Guys often do when you talk about their junk. "Anyway. That's interesting. Thanks for letting me know."

I raised my eyebrows. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" He started messing with the tape measure again. "My wife says I'm bigger than a professional stripper. I'm supposed to feel angry about that?" He did adjust his jeans as he rose off the couch, though, so he probably was chubbing up a bit. "I'm just going to measure."

"Feel free." I watched him as he crouched and hooked the tape around the back of the couch, checking the side. "I just think it'd rub me the wrong way if my ex-husband had started talking to his friends about my genitals a couple days after the wedding, is all."

"Well, now that you mention it, yeah. That is a little weird." He squatted there and snapped the measure back into the silver housing. "But it's not like I'm going to divorce her over it."

"No. You should divorce her over her snoring," I told him with a grin. I'd shared many hotel rooms with Kelly.

He chuckled. "You're not lying, Tara." He inched the metal a bit of the way out and then leaned over, holding it out to me. "Here. Make yourself useful and hold this against the corner over at your end."

"I'm useful," I protested, taking the cold end of the measure. "My role is to sit here and be amazing, inspiring you to great efforts."

He snorted. "Something like that. You haven't even paid me for the coffee." I pressed the tape against the couch leg under me as he scooched backward, stretching it out. "But you're doing a fine job there, helping me get the length of the couch."

"Yeah," I flirted without a pause, "I'm good at helping with length." He coughed out a low, even laugh, then glared over at me. "Of couches, you perv. Come on. Get that thing done so you can finish your coffee."

"I'm starting to regret agreeing to this," he muttered, tapping the couch measurements into his phone.