The Domestic Equality War Pt. 02

'How can I help?'

And he cried. He cried and he cried and he cried. And Becky held him as he cried, feeling proud of how kind and compassionate she was being. Bryan's crying usually made her lose respect for him, yet here she was supporting him, being there for him, not judging him. 'You are a good person,' said the inner voice and Becky smiled in agreement.

***

It was morning.

Becky awoke and saw that Bryan was already out of bed. Becky sat up and listened to the house. Was that the sound of Tara's voice coming from the kitchen? And there was Bryan's voice too! But wasn't it Becky's turn to do the morning routine?

Becky lay back on the pillow, hands behind her head, a huge smile on her face. Her man had finally got the message! 'Yeah,' said an inner voice, 'but it only happened because you had sex with him. A woman shouldn't have to do that.' Becky shrugged. If she could reach Bryan through sex, why not use that to her advantage? And it wasn't like she hadn't enjoyed herself. No, the important thing was that she had been right! Right to have trusted her instincts and right to have been kind to Bryan, rather than confrontational. Everything was working out for her. Becky let out a laugh of happiness, leapt out of bed and skipped to the shower. She did her bathroom routine and got dressed for work, her heart singing like a bird.

That song came to an abrupt stop the moment Becky walked into the kitchen-dining room. Bryan was being 'Daddy'. She could see it a mile off. He smiled at her, his 'good morning' had genuine warmth, but even so ... Bryan wasn't there. He was back in his head.

'Hello, Mummy!' said Tara.

'In a minute, darling,' said Becky, walking past her daughter. She wasn't ready to be 'Mummy' just yet. She went up close to her man and said in a low voice:

'Bryan, what's wrong?'

He looked at her and smiled.

'My, my,' he said. 'Your radar is sharp this morning.'

'Thanks, and don't evade the question.'

'Listen, I honestly don't know,' he said. 'But I'll figure it out, don't worry.'

He gave her a kiss, then went over to the dining table and sat next to his daughter. A place had also been laid for Becky, but she stood by the kitchen counter watching him.

Yes, Bryan would figure it out, she thought. But the problem with Bryan figuring things out was that he invariably came to conclusions which got in the way of what Becky wanted. The domestic equality issue was a case in point. Those three months before she got pregnant had been perfect and if Bryan had opened his mouth about 'being miserable', Becky was sure she could have turned him around. Instead, he kept it all to himself and started 'figuring things out', which had resulted in all his stupid arguments. He had basically listened to his ego instead of her, and she had to make sure that never happened again.

Becky went over to the breakfast table and stood behind Bryan, putting her hands on his shoulders. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then turned to her daughter.

'Tara, darling,' she said. 'How would you like a sleepover at Sally's?'

'Ooh! Can I?'

'What do you think, Bryan? Is she old enough?'

Becky felt Bryan laugh, then his hand reached up and covered one of hers. Good sign.

'I don't see why not,' he said.

Tara squealed in excitement. Becky gave her husband another kiss on the side of his head.

'I'll call Dee, see if I can arrange it,' she said. 'We may have to have Sally here at the weekend.'

'Great!' he said. 'Whatever it takes.'

Becky gave him a third kiss for coming up with the right answer and went around the table to take her seat. Glancing across the breakfast table, she saw a man looking at her as though he couldn't wait to rip her clothes off. God, she had missed that look. 'Daddy' was gone and Bryan was most definitely back.

Flushing pink in the face and feeling incredibly pleased with herself, Becky turned and reached for a piece of toast.

***

Dee was delighted to have Tara for a sleepover that same evening. While Bryan went to work, Becky packed Tara's overnight bag and took her daughter to nursery school. She met Dee at the school, handed over the bag and made promises to return the favour. The two little girls were babbling to each other in excitement and everything went swimmingly.

But as Becky drove to work, she was tormented by accusatory thoughts. 'Why are you pandering to Bryan like this?' said an inner voice. 'He should admit that you're right, not have you dance around his ego!' The bombardment continued all the way to work and Becky was actually grateful when a difficult customer called, forcing her to turn her mind to company business.

The day went past and it was finally time to go home. Becky left precisely on the hour, stopping off to buy a bottle of champagne from a wine shop and gritting her teeth as the voice told her she was demeaning herself. When she got home, she put the champagne in the fridge and went upstairs to take a shower. Afterwards, she threw on a bathrobe and went downstairs, turning up the heating in the living room and walking barefoot around the house. Becky checked the freezer and saw a couple of pizzas in a middle drawer. It was her turn to cook and she hoped Bryan wouldn't make a fuss. She always nagged him to make 'proper homecooked meals' when it was his turn and she could just picture him accusing her of double standards.

'Why should he do that?' said the voice sourly. 'He's getting sex on a plate!'

Bryan arrived home at around six-thirty and he said nothing about pizzas. Indeed, the moment he walked into a living room as hot as a sauna and saw Becky on the couch, reading something on her phone with one naked leg stretched from her loosely tied bathrobe, he was on her. Pants were pulled down, bathrobe pulled open, and once more the two of them indulged in the delicious intensity of the quick, hard fuck. After a few moments of recovery, Bryan disappeared upstairs and returned with the double duvet from their bed, laying it out on the carpet like a very lumpy picnic blanket. The two of them stripped and the sex began in earnest.

The man and the woman feasted on each other.

If the quick fuck was the starter, this was the main course and the two of them took their time enjoying it. One particular dish was a sixty-nine with Bryan on top, holding his woman's entire hips and bottom in his arms like a giant bowl of honey, dipping his head and ravishing her cunt, inside and out, as Becky kept his cock warm in her mouth and groaned as he ate her. After she came, she pushed him onto his back and rubbed her juice all over his face like an animal marking its territory. Bryan secretly loved the feeling of being 'owned' and was deeply grateful that his woman's issues with the word 'cunt' didn't affect what she did with it.

But every appetite has its saturation point and after an hour-and-a-half, both man and woman were ready to enjoy a pause. It was now Becky who disappeared from the room and she returned with a chilled bottle of champagne and two fluted glasses.

'That's my girl!' said Bryan delightedly.

Becky's inner voice said, 'You shouldn't let a man call you that' and Becky told it to fuck off. Under the sound of his delight, she heard pride in her husband's voice and she wanted to relish it. It had been such a long time since she'd felt genuine enthusiasm from him.

Becky opened the bottle while Bryan alternated his gaze from her face to her breasts. Again, the voice said, 'Careful ... you don't want him to see you as a sex object' and again Becky told it to fuck off. But as she poured the first glass, the voice said, 'Shouldn't he be pouring it for you?' and Becky let out a groan.

'This ego you were fighting yesterday,' she said as she handed over the glass. 'Was it like a voice in your head?'

'Yes,' said Bryan.

'Well, I think I have one too.'

Bryan opened his mouth, then thought better of it. Instead, he sat back and gazed at her. Becky poured the second glass, thinking how funny it was that she could see a difference between a look and a gaze. It was as though Bryan were wearing a new expression, and yet there was also something familiar about it. 'What is that look?' she asked herself. The feeling in her gut whispered: 'It's love.' Instantly, tears fell like raindrops from her eyes.

'Oh, my god!' said Becky.

The emotions broke like a rogue wave and Becky was now sobbing. The timing couldn't have been worse. She was holding a bottle in one hand, a full glass in the other, and she couldn't put either down on the undulating floor of the duvet. She sobbed while trying not to spill drink on the bedding, feeling ridiculous and praying for her nose not to run. Then her husband's warm hand was on the back of her neck, his forehead gently met her forehead, and she heard his rumbling voice murmur, 'Oh, my darling, my darling, my darling...'

The dam broke. Sobbing became full on weeping, Becky's face stretched open as she howled. Bryan somehow managed to get her champagne glass out of her hand and he got up to put the two glasses on a shelf. Becky wept, the champagne bottle on the duvet teetering at an angle in her precarious grip, until Bryan relieved her of that too.

Then he was back, gathering her in his arms. Becky grabbed him and held him and cried, long and loud. It felt so good to be wrapped up in a man's arms and to cry, to weep, to mourn. Yes, mourn ... though Becky wasn't sure what she was mourning for. Something had died, something was gone, something was lost forever. She could feel it. She could feel it, but she couldn't name it. Part of her felt stupid, as though she were crying for the loss of a friend she had never met - and yet it also felt anything but stupid. How could a feeling both feel stupid and not stupid at the same time?

Suddenly her brain was tired of trying to figure it out. She just wanted to be held by her big, strong man and cry. Fuck reasons! For the first time in ages, she could feel her man's love - not the dutiful 'love' she had to drag out of him, but his clear, unambiguous, voluntary love. And, right now, right in this moment, that was all she cared about.

Everything else could go fuck itself.

***

The man and the woman held each other for what felt like the longest time. But eventually the desire for food made itself known and the two of them ended up eating pizzas while watching a movie. Neither was in the mood for talking and yet their hands and limbs were in almost constant contact. Night closed in and the man and the woman went upstairs to bed, arms around each other's waists, duvet dragged upstairs behind them, trailing like a bridal train.

'It's going to pick up dust,' said Becky.

'Not when we hoover three times a week,' said Bryan, and he got a slap on the arm.

They did their bathroom routine, this time together, and their night clothes got thrown onto the nearby chair as they snuggled up naked against each other. When they were warm and wrapped up in bed, Becky decided to risk asking.

'What happened tonight?' she said.

'I don't know,' said Bryan.

'You mean, you haven't figured it out?'

Bryan gave a small laugh. Then he shifted his head.

'There was one moment,' he said, 'when I felt something.'

'Which moment?'

'When you told me that you had a voice in your head.' He gave the woman a loving squeeze. 'You may not realise this, Becks, but that was the first time in all the years we've been together that you have admitted the possibility that you, too, might have an ego.'

'Bullshit!'

Becky twisted round in the embrace. She pushed herself away so that she could look Bryan in the eye,

'Bryan...' she said in her teacher's voice. 'I have never claimed to be perfect!'

'No,' said Bryan. 'But the way you talk to me always suggests that you think you're closer to perfection than I am.'

Becky opened her mouth to deny it. Then she found that she couldn't. She stared at a square inch of duvet just visible in the dark and ransacked her thoughts. What the hell was he saying? That she saw herself as better than him?

'Of course you're better than him!' said the voice in her head. 'He's a man! What could he possibly know about love or relationships or making a nice home? Most men are lumbering idiots who love football and big tits! The only reason you picked Bryan was because he was a cut above the rest, but that's not saying much, is it? Let's face it...'

Becky winced and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. Then she saw Bryan was watching her.

'Having fun in there?' he said.

'Don't.'

Becky sighed and cuddled up to him. She wanted to be close again, to feel his legs around her legs, his body against her body. To feel his breathing and his strength. Bryan held her close, wrapped up in his arms, his hands big and warm on her skin.

'Harder,' she said. 'Squeeze me harder.'

Bryan gently contracted his arms.

'More than that!' said Becky. 'I want to feel how strong you are!'

'I don't want to hurt you.'

'I'll tell you when I can't take anymore,' said Becky. 'Please, Bryan! I really want to feel your strength!'

She felt the man sigh, and then he resumed contracting his arms. Becky felt her arm bones being pressed into her torso, felt the pressure around her ribcage, felt her insides being squeezed and compressed. 'My god, he's strong!' she thought. She could hardly breathe. And something in her loved this feeling, this helplessness in a python's embrace, this being genuinely overpowered by pure animal strength.

Then Bryan shifted slightly, realigning his shoulders, and the contraction continued. Becky was shocked. She thought he'd already reached his maximum. But those arms were contracting still, using the muscles of his back and shoulders, and now Becky couldn't breathe at all and her bones were threatening to crack, pressing against flesh and cartilage, and she realised that this man could kill her - could quite literally squeeze the life out of her - and she let out a choked cry of terror and elation.

Bryan let go. Becky gasped, her lungs heaving as her body demanded air. Bryan rested his hands on her hips and he was about to ask whether she was okay, when he saw her expression. Becky's eyes glittered and she wore the hungriest grin Bryan had ever seen on a woman. For a moment, their gazes locked, like predator and prey in the moment just before the kill. Then Becky pounced, her tongue in the man's mouth, her own mouth so wide that her teeth pressed two rows of marks into the outside of his lips. Bryan felt the woman's mad desire to devour him, to fuck him as hard as she physically could, and he did what any man in his right mind does in that situation.

He surrendered himself to her madness.

***

Dee sighed as the two little girls at the breakfast table shrieked with high-pitched giggles. She had given them metal spoons with which to eat their cereal and Tara discovered that chomping on them made a funny clacking noise that sent Sally into hysterics. Quite why metal against teeth was so hilarious was beyond Dee, but the girls were now taking it in turns to make funny noises and it was driving her a little nuts. She was about to scold them, when the doorbell rang.

'Girls! Eat your breakfast!' said Dee as she exited the room.

She went down the hallway and opened the front door. It was Becky, looking smart in a long coat and business outfit.

'Hi Dee.'

'Becky! Didn't I say I would take Tara to school?'

'Yes, but I forgot to pack a change of clothes.'

'Did you? I thought she would just ... oh, never mind. Come in!'

Becky stepped into the house, her hand on the strap of a bulging shoulder bag. She was wearing heels and walked like a Parisian model.

'Well, someone had a good night,' said Dee, closing the door.

Becky turned and smiled a very dirty smile. Then she gave a shrug and looked down at the hallway carpet.

'Can I ask you something?' she said.

'What?'

'How often do you hoover the house?'

'Once a week,' said Dee.

'And do you and David take it in turns?'

'I wish! But he never does it properly, so I end up doing it myself.'

Dee gave a world-weary sigh and looked at Becky.

'How's Bryan with that kind of thing?'

'Oh, when it comes to housework, Bryan is...'

Becky hesitated. She wanted to say: Bryan is a bastard. He turns what should be a shared responsibility to make a nice family home into a cold-blooded exercise in time management. And it breaks my heart, because he is absolutely not a cold-blooded man.

'He does his fifty percent,' said Becky.

'Really?' said Dee.

'Oh, yes. Really.'

There was a screech of girlish laughter from the kitchen. Becky gave the other woman a look. Dee sighed and headed down the hallway, gesturing for Becky to follow. But Becky didn't move. She stared at the carpet, her thoughts on the man who was probably at this moment unpacking his overpriced laptop at the desk in his office.

Bryan had been right. Hoovering three times a week wasn't 'the' rule, it was her rule. It was what she wanted. And if Bryan was right about that, there might be other things. God, what a thought. Becky's instinct sensed a rabbit hole so deep that she couldn't see the bottom ... and nothing frightened Becky more than a bottomless pit.

'Mummy's here?!'

It was Tara's voice from the kitchen. Becky let out a great sigh of relief. Fuck rabbit holes! She could deal with that later. Right now, her little girl had had a sleepover and she wanted to know how it went! Shaking her hair and walking like a diva, Becky strode down the hall and entered the kitchen.

It was time to be 'Mummy' again.