The Luddite Conspiracy Ch. 03

ACT THREE: THREE LEAN HOUNDS CROUCH LOW

Sunday

Neil Fenner awoke with a start. His left arm jerked outward, hand open, coming down on his wife's side of the bed. It found nothing. Just cool, undisturbed cotton.

He sat upright in a panic. She hadn't come home.

Last night he'd arrived to an empty house. Nothing was out of place or unexpected, aside from an old photo album being out and a bottle of wine resting in the trash, so he wasn't overly concerned. Gina technically shouldn't expect him back for several more days, so he understood that she might feel the need to get out of the house. He'd figured that she was probably meeting a friend for dinner, or gone to visit her sister in Angola. Anyway, he was exhausted. So without much deliberation, he had trudged up the stairs to their bedroom and collapsed on top of the covers. He would wait for her there.

But as he lay staring at the ceiling, yawning, he had to admit that something felt wrong. It wasn't anything that he could really define, just a general sense of displacement. In fact once he'd identified it, he'd found that he couldn't think of much else, so he'd bitten the bullet and called her cell phone.

It rang and rang, then went to voice mail. He tried again, with the same result. Thirty minutes later it was the same. Giving up on that approach, he'd dialed each of Gina's family and friends in turn. Nobody had seen or heard from her while he was away. That seemed a little odd. Gina was a social person; she wouldn't have wanted to spend three full days all by herself. He couldn't imagine her going that long without some kind of outlet.

As the night grew late, and the bed began to feel lonely, the mystery caused her absence to grow worrisome. Still, he must have been exhausted enough to drift off, because it was now almost nine in the morning. And Gina still wasn't home.

Neil felt his stomach go into knots, and tried to come up with an explanation that wasn't cause to panic. Maybe she'd decided to go down to Tennessee after him, as a surprise? No. That wasn't remotely plausible, or even very much like his wife. She knew he needed time, and she would have made it a point to give him that. Anyway, finding him would have been a little bit difficult.

So where was she? Was she in trouble? Had something happened?

Was she with someone?

He almost laughed. That was so ridiculous a question, he didn't even know where it had come from. The stress of things must be getting to him. That was by far the most unrealistic explanation available.

But the only options that weren't getting crossed off here were also the ones that scared him the most. Things that involved injury, or worse. He contemplated calling around to the hospitals or police, but decided that he was being paranoid. He ought to try her cell phone again instead.

Sitting up and grabbing his cell, he clicked his contacts list and found her name.

-=-=-

The first thing she was aware of was the smooth warmth of a muscled, masculine form. It rose and fell under her cheek, warming her face, causing her head to roll along with its gentle rhythm. She was nestled into that cozy place where shoulder meets chest, tucked into his strength like a bird in a nest. It felt wonderful.

Opening her eyes and blinking against the morning's light, she saw hairless, tanned skin. It seemed wrong, somehow, but that was just an abstraction. Studying it with uncomprehending, almost numb distance, she moved her legs and felt her thighs rub against him. Her body was curled against a lean, mysterious torso. She breathed in through her nose. It smelled delightful.

The second thing she became aware of was that her stomach was gurgling angrily. Oh, it was awful. The indignance groaned out at her, moody like a child, insisting sickly irritation. Her head began to join in, throbbing in celebration of every heartbeat.

What on earth was going on? Oh. A hangover. She had a hangover.

She tried to remember the night before. What had compelled her to get so drunk? What had she been thinking? Groaning and stretching, she pushed her face against the thick, firm pec.

And that's when she became aware of the third thing.

This wasn't Neil.

Gina shot upright, her thoughts suddenly sharper than a hunted bunny, and turned in horror. In fact, the young, fit body she had been laying against was nothing at all like her husband's. It looked fifteen years younger, with all the graces of youth and a clear dedication to fitness. She recognized the face that accompanied it immediately. And, even before she became aware of her own total nudity, she was very aware of his.

The blanket, a light and silky thing, had pulled away as she sat up, revealing a body that looked like it belonged in a Hollywood movie. If it had been in that movie, she would have admired it unapologetically. But it wasn't in a movie. It was here, in bed with her. She had slept all night pressed up against it. And she had done more than that, even. She recoiled at the thought.

Oh, god. What was she doing in bed with Cecile?

Concentrating, she remembered him making her promise to let him get her out of the house for a while. She recalled the long and sad day alone, and how it ended with a bottle of wine and a photo album. She could see herself cleaning up, talking to herself in the mirror about how this was a good thing. About how she was moving forward.

They went out to a restaurant. And she probably hadn't been much company at first, but Cecile had a way of bringing her out of her funk. He was so funny and lighthearted. Almost clownish, at times. She remembered dwelling on that as she studied him across the table. She wanted more of that in her life. Lightheartedness. Carefree. Free of any burden.

She recalled noticing how handsome he was, too, and reflecting on how she was probably seven years older than he.

After that, there was drinking and laughing and drinking and dancing. By the time they'd gotten into the car, she was so drunk and giddy with her lack of sadness that she hadn't even complained (or hesitated) when he drove them both to his apartment and then invited her in. She'd felt a fuzzy, distorting anticipation heating her middle as she climbed the stairs. And as they crossed over into his entryway it was she, not Cecile, who pushed forward and initiated the first kiss.

She had forgotten her husband, forgotten her cows. And she had slept with Cecile.

Gina put her hands over her face and tried not to scream. She was ashamed, furious. Humiliation latched onto her, sinking long teeth and holding on like a hungry dog.

She didn't even know why, exactly. What fidelity did she owe Neil now? What right did he have, to remain in her heart like this? To make her feel guilty about happiness? To make her feel guilty about her pleasure?

Why did she feel like she was the one in the wrong, all of the sudden? Like she was her own story's villain? Was it because she'd required this kind of...reassurance? Because she'd felt so thrown away, discarded by the man she loved, and had reacted to that sensation in such a foolish way?

Was it because the body she was looking at now was in many ways better than the one she'd lost? She'd felt an aching physical desperation for it last night, like her whole body was asking for it. She'd never reacted to any male attention that way before.

Was it because the sex had been incredible? That was true, but it seemed like such a simple and unimportant kind of truth. Why would that matter so much? Was she afraid that it might have diminished her opinion of her husband? Was he going to be relegated to a smaller place, a lesser meaning, now? She didn't think so...

Or was this moving on?

She wasn't even sure how she felt about the man lying next to her. Every step of the way, his presence had been wrapped up in other emotions, other issues. It would be easy to dismiss his appeal as such. But last night was harder to wave away. She understood, of course. It was bound to be different with somebody else. After so many years together, she and Neil had the kind of gently-simmering attraction of comfort that most married couples have. A younger, fitter, brand new body, by comparison, was bound to have a sort of lightning affect on her nervous system. The sense of being attractive to a younger member of the opposite sex would have an intoxicating effect on just about anybody.

That sort of "new relationship" effect would fade, though. Gina remembered reading in a women's magazine about how hormones influenced a woman's responses to her relationships, especially at the start. Powerful endorphins rewarded a new match-up, almost addictively. And the same bonding hormones that helped nursing mothers latch so tightly onto their clinging infants were produced through orgasm. It was a big part of why women often got so much more emotionally caught up in a relationship, early on, where men found it easier to maintain a distance. Surely some of her distorting feelings now were due to that biological, temporary effect.

But, she had to admit, there was more to it than that. Cecile really was a kind, funny person. He was gently sure of himself, needing neither bluster nor support. And he had been a genuinely skillful lover. He seemed to instinctively match his motions, his rhythm, to her body's growing arousal. Her climaxes came easily, and often. She'd never experienced anything like that. At one point when she'd looked up at him, he'd worn a focused and intense look, as though he was concentrating on reading every subtle hint her body threw off. As though all that mattered was to find the best motion for the moment.

And he'd found it.

Gina sighed and shook her head.

What did any of that matter? This thing between them couldn't actually go anywhere. The most she could hope for was to play cougar to Cecile's cub for a few distracting months, and then be right back where she'd started from. It's not like they'd end up getting married. She wasn't her sister.

Brianna had jumped straight from a messy and violent first marriage into a relationship that, against all odds, managed to become both stable and long-running. Todd, her current husband, was nine years her junior. The two of them didn't seem bothered by that at all. Really, nobody was bothered by it. They were a good couple, and very much in love. But Gina needed Neil's quiet maturity, his stoic wisdom...even if it meant that sometimes he was too quiet. She loved his brilliance, his patient resolve, his wealth of experience. His steely-eyed leadership, requiring neither volume nor chest-pounding to gain the respect of those around him. These were things to admire in a man. Cecile didn't have them. He hadn't had time to earn them yet.

Oh, Neil...

No. There was time for that later. She had a lifetime ahead to miss that man, or hate him if it came to that. If last night had shown her anything, it was that she was still capable of experiencing joy. And since she might have precious little of it in her life in the near future, she wanted to revel in what she had.

Why shouldn't she? Why shouldn't she revel, just to feel good for awhile. Just to stop thinking of Neil for a few hours more.

Reaching out, she traced the lines of Cecile's powerful physique with her pointer finger. It was the finest body she'd ever shared a bed with. As her finger trailed lower, to his hip, his eyes fluttered open. He blinked, looked at her, and grinned sleepily. She leaned forward and softly kissed his nipple.

"Good morning," she said, looking up at him and planting another kiss just below his pec.

"It certainly is," he said, his voice husky. "What are you doing?"

"Reveling." Moving lower, putting her lips to his abs and then to the tickling fuzz of his groomed pubic hair, she glanced up at him and kissed the head of his sex. He groaned.

A scratchy, digital sounding drum roll filled the room. It made her jump. The percussion stopped as suddenly as it had begun, then started up again.

Her cell phone. Gina suddenly remembered it ringing a number of times while they were in bed last night. She had ignored it then and, briefly, she considered doing so again now. But there was always the risk of emergency. Someone was obviously eager to talk to her, anyway.

"I'll only be a moment," she said, and kissed his swelling member one last time before jumping up. Grabbing the phone, she turned around and winked at Cecile, flaunting her nudity. For some reason, she saw a look of fear cross his face as she hit the green button and held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Oh, Jesus, Gina. Thank God you're alright. I was beginning to think something had happened to you."

She froze, mouth open and playfulness gone. Neil.

"Gina?" he asked after a moment. "Youarealright, aren't you?"

"Wh...why are you calling me? What do you want? Where are you?" She glanced at Cecile, and noticed that he wore an expression that looked like sadness.

"I'm at the house. Where are you? Why didn't you come home last night?"

At the house? Gina realized she was taking short, shallow breaths, and forced herself to concentrate. "Why are you at the house? Did you come back to get your things?"

"Get my things? What are you talking about? I finished my trip early, and I missed you. I know I told you it would take a week, but...I mean, I didn't really know. I couldn't, could I?"

Gina shook her head, trying to make sense of it. "What do you mean 'finished your trip early?' You aren't going to move in with her? Is that it?"

"Move in with who? Her who? Gina, what on earth are you talking about? Where are you?"

He sounded so earnestly confused and worried that she suddenly felt sick to her stomach.Oh God, Neil. I'm at another man's house. I'm standing in his bedroom, and I've got no clothes on.

"I don't understand. Explain to me what this trip was about, because what you're saying and what I've been told sound like very different things."

"What you've been told? Told by whom? Gina, didn't you read my letter?"

"I never saw a letter."

He hummed into the phone. "How can that be? I left it sitting on the table. I...it explained everything. I wrote...like I used to do when we were in counseling. It was righthere, Gina!"

"Is it there now?"

"Of course it's not here now. Are you telling me that you never saw it? Then why did you think I left? Where did you think I went?"

Gina put her hand over her forehead. "Neil, stop answering everything with a question. Just tell me about the goddamn trip!"

There was a long pause. "Gina. I think I'd like to know where you are first."

She opened her mouth, but couldn't make herself say it. As it turned out, she didn't have to, because Cecile saw the nervous panic flash across her face and jumped out of bed. "Don't let him turn this around on you," he snapped. "Hang up the phone."

She looked up at him, frozen. He gave her a soft comforting smile. Her finger hovered over the button, but she couldn't make herself do it.

Cecile reached out, gently took the phone from her hands, and hung it up.

-=-=-

Neil stared at the receiver.

He'd heard a masculine voice. It had spoken to his wife, had told her to hang up the phone, and she had done so. Where exactly she was, and who was she with, suddenly became very loaded and dangerous questions, because they were smaller parts of a newer and more destructive inquiry:

Was his wife cheating on him?

Why would she do that? Jesus Christ,why would she do that?

He moved to set the phone down, and realized that his hand was shaking. It convulsed wildly, like a warning. He tried to make it stop, and found that he could not. It just kept moving and moving and moving...

-=-=-

"Cecile, I need to go home. I need to go now!"

Cecile reached out to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away. "You don't want to do that," he said. "Either he's playing some game because he thinks it will help him in the divorce, or he ran off to be with her and it didn't work out. Either way, you can't just go running because he calls. Neil is the one who betrayed you, not the other way around. You have to remember that." He reached out again. "Stay here. With me."

She shook her head, rummaging around the floor for her clothes and using them to cover herself. "You didn't hear his voice. You didn't hear how he sounded. We have it wrong. I don't know how, but somehow, we have it wrong." Finding the last sock, she rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. "I have to go home!" she insisted frantically.

Cecile cursed under his breath. If she went home, it was over. He was desperate now, almost to the point of carelessness. He'd thought he'd have a week at least to try and put the wedge between absent husband and beautiful wife. Three days wasn't enough time, dammit!

To be honest, he hadn't really considered at all about how it would play out long term. He hadn't really planned at all. As usual, he had simply seen something he wanted and rushed for it blindly, hoping against hope. There had been no analyzing, no hesitation. Just action. Now he was looking at being found out by both the woman he loved and the man who was his coworker.

He had to try and keep them apart for a little while longer, somehow. He needed time to...to dosomething, dammit! "Gina, you're not thinking clearly! You're getting turned around by emotion. And that's probably what he's banking on...you being so mixed up that he can throw any little lie at you, and you'll believe it. Think, Gina! Think! What's he going to say? What's he going to ask? How will it look after he denies his affair and then you tell him where you spent last night?"

For a moment there was silence. Then he heard a sniffle. "He said there was a letter. He said he wrote me a letter before he left."

"Does saying it make it true? Jesus Christ, Gina! What about the phone calls? What about everything I saw at work? So now he produces the letter, and says that it proves his case, and what? That's the end of it? Does it even occur to you that he could be writing the damn thing right now while he waits for you to come home?"

"That's not Neil. That's not something he would do."

"You didn't think having an affair was something he would do, either, until it was thrown in your face."

"What if we were wrong? What if he's not having an affair?"

"Good question, Gina. If you run back now, playing the oh-so-sorry wife, you'll never find out for sure. He'll be able to gloss over that, and set it aside as a non-issue. Think about this. You're a forgiving person, I know that. And you want to believe the best about him. But in the back of your mind, youknowhis story doesn't add up. Youknowthere are questions he's not answering. And if you don't get them answered you'll always wonder what really happened. Gina, you'll always wonder. Please," he sighed, his resolve faltering, and leaned against the door frame, "don't do this. Stay with me. We'll figure out a way to...to make him tell the truth."

The door opened, and she came out dressed. She smiled sadly at him and touched his face with her hand. "Cecile, I have to go back. I have to see if there's something worth saving in my marriage. Whatever he's done, whatever mistakes have come and gone, I love him. And if I can hang on to that, then there's a chance." Her eyes darted south, toward his nudity, and she blushed. "But I did...enjoy...our time together. And if it turns out that you're right...if he can't account for every last bit of doubt...then Neil and I are through, and I'd be very interested in seeing you again."

He turned away, gathering up his own clothing and starting to dress. "Just promise me that you won't take his story on face value. After everything, you can't just let him brush over it with a few well-chosen words. Insist on detail. Insist on proof. If he can't give you both..."