Interlude Supreme

Jerry noticed. "Mary Kay, are you all right? You look kind of...anxious."

She placed the utensils back and forced a smile. "I'm okay, just a little nervous, I guess. I mean, I've never done this before, slept with a man outside my marriage. In fact, Albert is the only man I've ever slept with. Does that surprise you?"

He shrugged. "No, not really. But don't tell me that other guys didn't try."

She nodded, thinking back to a couple of past boyfriends, the ones she stopped from going past third base. "Yeah, they did. Guess I was saving myself."

"For me?" He grinned.

She couldn't help but laugh--it eased the angst of her moral dilemma. "Maybe so, Jerry, maybe so."

*****

After consuming a soup and sandwich lunch, Mary Kay had Jerry follow her to the McComas Inn. Her excitement tempered some of the moral ambiguity that still lingered, hovering over her like a bad odor. 'It stinks what you're about to do, Mary Kay,' her inner voice said. It helped that Jerry had held and kissed her on the parking lot. "I like you too," he had said. Funny, she was a couple decades older, yet she felt safe in his arms, as if he was protecting her from something--probably from a husband who wouldn't take kindly to what she was doing if he ever found out.

She had called the McComas Inn the day before and was assured that they had plenty of vacancies. The inn was built in the nineteen-fifties, and calling it an inn was somewhat pretentious. In fact, it was a motel, designed in rows of single-story buildings. For the last couple decades, it had earned a salacious reputation as a place where married people took their lovers for trysts. No questions asked. You paid your money and the room was yours, to do in it what and with whom you pleased.

An older couple, man and wife, ran it. They kept a straight face as Mary Kay handed them cash over the counter, with Jerry by her side. No questions asked because none needed to be. The woman slipped Mary Kay the key for room 22. Something about that number felt chilling to her as they walked toward the room. What was it? It wasn't until they went inside that she remembered that Twenty-Two was the name of a Twilight Zone episode seen years ago. The main character was a female dancer, confined to a hospital for much of the episode, who confronts a night nurse who apparently wanted her dead.

Mary Kay placed her purse on the queen-sized bed and said, "Room for one more, honey."

Jerry raised his eyebrows and grinned. "You want to have a three-way?"

"Sure. You, me and maybe the manager's wife," Mary Kay said, knowing her sarcasm wasn't lost on Jerry. Then she explained where the line came from. "Imagine yourself in a hospital, wandering around the halls until you come to the morgue, room twenty-two. And then the night nurse comes out and says, 'room for one more, honey.' It might have been the scariest Twilight Zone episode I ever saw."

"Hmm...I used to watch that show," Jerry said, "but don't remember that one. I was just a kid. Maybe I'll catch it on reruns. So what happened to the woman, the hospital patient?"

"So, after her release, she's about to board a plane on flight twenty-two, when a stewardess, the same woman who played the night nurse at the morgue, looks at her and says, 'room for one more, honey.' The dancer then runs back inside the terminal. Then, shortly after the plane takes off, it explodes in a ball of fire." Mary Kay shook from a sudden chill that ran down her spine. Then she said, "Well, enough of that." She stepped forward and began to rub Jerry's shoulders. "We have a date."

Standing in front of the small black and white TV that sat atop a three-drawer dresser, they began to kiss. That Twilight Zone episode quickly faded from Mary Kay's thoughts. Her focus was now on Jerry and what he was doing for her, the tender way he was kissing her and the erotic way he was rubbing his body against hers--showing rather than telling her what in turn she was doing for him.

"You smell so nice, Mary Kay," he said, after their clothes came off and he was stooping slightly so he could do oral on her still firm tummy and then up to her firm, smallish breasts.

Jerry's scent was to her liking also--it reminded her of oranges. She could hardly wait to get more of it, to get more of HIM. "Ohmygod, Jerry, I'm exploding with desire. Let's get into bed already." Pause. "You can put those back," she said, after he took out a packet of condoms from his pants pocket. "I'm on the pill."

She had passed the point of no return. In fact, she had passed it the second that cash changed hands for the room. Return was now in her rearview and fading fast. Her naked body was now entwined with his, with the kissing getting longer and deeper and her emotions soaring to a place where they hadn't been in many a day. This young man that she had known since he was a young boy, was giving her the sort of pleasure that for so long had been missing from her life, and she was savoring every moment of it--from the erotic sensation of his tongue on her erogenous zones, to the feel of his cock, throbbing and stabbing inside her. He was hitting all the right spots in all the right ways. "Ohmygod, yes yes! Don't stop, please don't stop!"

A ridiculous plead to Jerry's ears, for he had no intention of stopping, at least not before she climaxed. Experience had taught him that chicks took longer to climax than guys. He had learned to pace himself, to hold out for as long as it took for his lover to come before he did. It wasn't always easy, especially when he was making love to an uber-sensuous woman, a woman like the one right here, on her back, spreading her shapely legs, reveling in what he was giving and pleading for more.

She got more, for once was not enough for this married woman whose sex life with hubby Albert was mediocre at best. Left up to her, she'd let Jerry fuck her all night. But she didn't have all night or even all afternoon. She and Albert had a dinner date with another couple. She had to be home by four at the latest, enough time to "squeeze" in another round of incredible sex with this young stud. She marveled at his powers of recovery, the fact that he could be ready to go again so quickly. She took top, on her feet, bouncing up and down, her eyes closed, her breasts flapping, her voice expressing her pleasure loud enough for anyone in the rooms next door to know what was going on.

Then...quiet. At least relative quiet. No one next door could hear the talk that followed, soft and endearing, as they kissed and snuggled under the sheets, lying on their sides, arms dapped over each other.

"You've spoiled me for other women," he said.

"And you make me want to leave my marriage," she said.

"You'd do that?"

"Probably not. But I couldn't stand not seeing you again. Like this, I mean." Lovingly, she brushed beads of sweat from his forehead.

"Yeah, I couldn't stand not seeing you either, Mary Kay. But how would this work? I mean, you being married and all."

"I'm not sure. Obviously, we want to keep things hush hush. Think you can keep it under wraps, not go bragging to your friends? I know how guys like to brag about their conquests. Or your parents. Ohmygod..." Her grin belied the seriousness of her concern. She knew all too well the consequences if even one person they knew found out.

"Wouldn't tell a soul. Not even my dog. Anyway, most guys who brag are bullshitters."

She nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that. Meanwhile, we better get going. I have a dinner date with my husband." She let out a bitter, guttural laugh. "Jesus, how darkly comical does that sound given this situation?" She swung her legs over and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking her head. "And here I once thought this was only going to be a one-time thing."

*****

One was too many and a hundred not enough. That's what they said about alcoholics and their drinks. The same could be applied to sex. Sex with the right lover was tough to give up. For Mary Kay, Jerry was the right lover. All wrong in a moral sense; right in how they meshed in the bedroom.

They had a month of Saturdays behind them. And, if Mary Kay had her way, another month of Saturdays in front of them. Jerry was more than okay with that. He was riding the crest of a wave that kept on rolling, with no foreseeable end in sight. So far, he had kept his end of the bargain to keep his mouth shut. Not that he wasn't tempted to trumpet this wonderful experience that had come his way. In fact, there were moments when it almost slipped out. His mom began to ask what he was doing on Saturday afternoons. "Just having fun, hanging out with friends," he replied.

Albert was beginning to question also. Once he commented on that "sexy kind of scent" he had picked up on one Saturday when she hadn't showered before returning home. She laughed it off, told him it was "nothing more than what I usually smell like." He wasn't fully appeased and she knew it. Maybe it was time to end things with Jerry before she got in deeper, before she slipped up and got caught. Oh, how the shit would fly. But oh, how she would miss those Saturday afternoons at the McComas Inn.

*****

She should have varied the venues where they met for their trysts. Also, it would have helped to carry on at home like nothing was going on. As to the latter, she tried, made close to a convincing display of "normalcy." However, what she failed to realize and what Albert noticed were subtle changes in her mood, especially when she returned home late Saturday afternoons. She was just a little too happy after shopping or "hanging out with the girls," as she told him. And there was that day when he had smelled the scent of sex, unmistakable because he damn sure knew what it smelled like. And on that one particular Saturday, Mary Kay had reeked of it. Shopping or being with her friends didn't produce that kind of scent, not unless she and the girls had a group lesbian thing going on.

He thought confronting her would be a waste of time. She'd only deny it and it would cause more tension in the marriage than he was prepared to deal with. He wasn't a confrontational type person. In fact, he avoided confrontations about things that some would insist needed one. He was a slightly overweight, self-admitted rationalizer who didn't like to make waves. That didn't make him a wimp, only a guy who wanted to keep the peace and the status quo, if the status quo was to his liking. In general, it had been. Besides, Mary Kay could be totally innocent of any wrongdoing. They still had sex. Not like they once did, but who screwed like they once did after x number of years of marriage? And yeah, he was always the initiator. Sometimes, he had to practically beg her to do it. Still, he loved his wife. He trusted her because, barring recent events, she had never given him reason not to.

Still, it wouldn't hurt...

It wouldn't hurt to ask his friend Lester Shane for a little help. Lester was a seasoned police detective who did private eye work on the side. They'd known each other a long time, had done each other favors over the years. Maybe Lester could do some snooping around to assuage Albert's suspicions.

Sure, Lester said, when Albert called him. It would be a simple matter of following Mary Kay one Saturday when he wasn't busy. He'd follow in his car, keeping a discreet distance. If required, he' take pictures, the best evidence there was. This kind of work was old hat to him, though it was usually the husband he spied on.

A couple weeks later, Lester ducked into a phone booth and called Albert.

"I can talk, Mary Kay isn't home," Albert said.

"I know that, Al. She's with some kid. Looks to be college-age. They had lunch at some fancy joint, then met at the McComas Inn. Room twenty-two to be exact. Figures. Anyway, I don't think they're here because they have side jobs cleaning the place. I'm across the street and they're cars haven't moved. I'm sure the pics I took will turn out just fine. Sorry, pal, it looks like your wife's been enjoying some extracurricular fun. Good luck."

"Kid?! What kid? Holy shit!" Albert couldn't believe it. More accurate, he didn't want to. She's having an affair with a kid? He wracked his brain. And then it hit him: Jerry Blake. He's the only college-age kid that came to mind. His next-door neighbor yet. How convenient. A few weeks ago, they were chatting in his kitchen. Thinking back, they did seem kind of chummy. Albert didn't think much of it. Not at the time. Now, with what he just heard, it all seemed to fit.

He paced the floor, feeling like a time bomb ready to explode. "Wait until the bitch gets home," he grunted. Except he couldn't wait. His angst, his anger, his sense of outrage wouldn't let him. Wait? No fucking way! He threw on a pair of gym shoes, light khaki slacks and a short-sleeve sports shirt. He was outta there, making a beeline for room twenty-two of the McComas Inn. Good thing that Kenneth was at a friend's house for a sleepover. Albert wouldn't want his son to see him in a rage.

*****

Mary Kay's mind wasn't on snooping private eyes. At this moment, she was in the strong, tender embrace of her lover, a one Jerry Blake. Jerry was wedged between her legs, tonguing her breasts, while his cock, at maximum verticality, slid effortlessly inside his lover, the "primo-sexy and adorable Mary Kay," as he took to describing her. They were on round number two, and she couldn't get enough. "Ohmygod, if only I could be with you more!" she cried out loud. Even in her present heightened state of passion, she could think clearly enough to admit that she was falling in love with this man, this man who was barely out of his teens. Nothing was right about this and yet, on some level, everything was right about it.

Little did she know, because her lover hadn't said, that he was falling for her as well. It had been all about the sex, and then it wasn't, because something else was happening, something deeper, substantive, consequential. Sure, she had a beautiful body. More than that, she was so damn sensuous, erotic, seductive. But also, so--what was the word? --covetous. He coveted her, he cared about her and he wanted to be with her in other places, not just in restaurants and motels that catered to people who did what they were doing. "If only I could hold you all night, Mary Kay."

If only. Yes, she'd love that, would love being with Jerry for more than just a few hours at a time. Would love to travel with him to some warm, romantic getaway, just the two of them. Those thoughts reeled through her mind, almost as vivid as the reality of the moment, of being made love to by this amazing young man with an unusually keen sense of pace and timing. "My goodness, Jerry, you're driving me out of my mind!"

*****

Speaking of timing, Albert at that moment was driving his 1970 red Chevy Caprice onto the McComas Inn parking lot and hoping that what Lester had reported seeing was just an illusion. Fat chance, because there they were, Jerry's orange GTO and Mary Kay's maroon Chrysler New Yorker parked side by side, just outside room twenty-two. The man who hated confrontations was about to confront the wife he once trusted and the lacrosse-playing kid next-door.

He cut the engine, then sat there, staring at the white door with the number 22 on it, trying to picture what was going on behind that door. They weren't playing Parcheesi, he was sure of that. Nor did he think they were fully clothed, engaged in a political discussion about the Nixon presidency. He shook his head. Holy shit, what a mess, what a fucking mess. What possessed her to take up with the kid next-door? Was their sex life that bad? Was she that horny? He'd strangle her; he'd strangle them both. Good thing he didn't own a gun. Damn it, forcing him to confront something like this alone made his blood boil.

"Okay, here goes." He exited the car, stepped up to the door and knocked. He put his ear to the door, heard nothing. He knocked harder.

"Yes?"

It was Mary Kay, all right. "It's me, your loving husband. Open up."

"Ohmygod! Oh shit! Jerry, get dressed!"

He heard that loud and clear. Other sounds too--footsteps, things being tossed about and snatches of conversation he couldn't quite make out. Then he heard this from Mary Kay: "Look, Albert, can we discuss this at home? I know how angry and upset you must be but this isn't the place for a confrontation. Go home and I'll meet you there."

No fucking way she was calling the shots. "Oh, we're gonna discuss it at home, all right. But right now, we're gonna have a little discussion right here, with your boyfriend all present and accounted for. Now open up."

"Do I have to call the desk?"

"Call the damn desk if you want to, but I'm not going anywhere. Don't make this any messier than it already is, Mary Kay."

Moments later, she cracked the door open and stood there, barefoot but otherwise fully dressed, her pretty features distorted by a mix of angst and shame. "Albert, please don't get physical."

He spit out a bitter chuckle. "When have I ever gotten violent with you? Many men would in this situation and understandably so. But I'm here to talk. Okay?"

She nodded. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she let him in.

The bed wasn't made. That's the first thing he noticed. The second was the sight of Jerry Blake, standing across the dimly lit room, arms folded defensively across his chest, wearing jeans and a tee shirt. Jerry stood a couple inches taller than Albert and was in much better shape. Weekend golf didn't do much for that paunch he carried, and neither did two-martini lunches. Still, he was angry enough to get "physical," as Mary Kay put it. Angry enough to take a swing at this admittedly nice-looking lad who'd been fucking his wife for God knows how long.

Albert stood near the front door, while Mary Kay stood on the far side of the bed, arms folded like Jerry's, watching him like a hawk. She'd never felt so tense in her entire life.

"So how long has this been going on?" Albert's brown eyes darted back and forth, looking for at least one of them to answer.

Jerry unfolded his arms and took a step forward. "Look, Mr. Dresner, this is all my fault. I came onto her, not the other way around."

Mary Kay looked at him and shook her head. Then her tears began to flow. "Not true, Albert. It WAS the other way around. I was Mrs. Robinson to his Benjamin."

"How sweet, protecting each other," Albert said. "Look, I don't give a flying fuck who started it. What I want to know is how long it's been going on."

Mary Kay, pawing tears from her reddened cheeks, said, "A few weeks, Albert, a few weeks. I don't know exactly. How did you know we were here? Did you follow me here today?"

"Never mind, I've got my ways." He looked at Jerry. "So, Mr. Gigolo, how's my wife in the sack? Pretty good, eh?"

"Room for one more, honey."

Covering her mouth, Mary Kay glanced back at Jerry, stifling the urge to laugh at this most irreverent comment.

Looking at Mary Kay, hands held palms up, Jerry said, "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Albert got even more incensed. "EXCUSE ME? Just what the fuck do you mean by that?!"

Jerry looked down, trying to erase his shit-eating grin. "Nothing, sir, nothing. Sorry. Just an inside joke."

Albert stroked his two-day-old stubble and nodded. "Inside joke, huh. You ought to be smacked, smart-ass, if not beaten with sticks. Your folks are gonna love what you've been doing." He slammed his fist into the palm of his meaty hand but stayed put. Then he said, "Now answer my question. How was she, this loyal wife of mine? Did you fuck her brains out?"

Jerry shrugged. "Sorry, like I said."

Albert looked at him for a few moments, as if he was expecting Jerry to say more. When he didn't, Albert said, "That's okay, I wouldn't want to talk about screwing some other man's wife either. Especially when her pissed off husband is facing him in the very room where it happened."