Our Deepest Secrets

I was barely out of the shower when I heard the doorbell.

Seriously, how the hell can it be that the probability of people showing up at your door or calling your phone increases significantly when you're in the bathroom? One of the great unsolved mysteries of the universe perhaps? Or maybe it simply seems that way because of the annoyance factor?

"If it's important they can damn well come back later," I growled irritated and commenced applying aftershave to my face.

But for once the true and tested method of outlasting my opponents by ignoring them failed miserably. Whoever was at my door clearly had no intention of giving up or postponing the untimely intrusion in my routine - the bell just kept droning on and on and on. The sound was getting on my nerves.

"This better not be a Jehovah's Witnesses or some stupid salesman," I thought as I rinsed my face and threw on my bathrobe.

And no - it most definitely was NOT a Jehovah's Witness. In fact the tall attractive blonde leaning against my doorbell would be far more likely to bear witness for the other guy - you know, the one downstairs. My ex-wife's face lit up with a dazzling bright smile when she saw me.

"Hi honey. I'm home."

I was too stunned for words. Not that any were needed or expected – Gina was always very talented in the noble art of one sided conversations - and I caught a whiff of her perfume as she gave me a swift peck on the lips and sailed past me into the house like she owned the place.

"What the...?"

I managed to collect myself and headed after her. She was already in the kitchen, currently busy checking out the content of my fridge.

"Amore, you eat like a stupid teenager! Hotdogs – no good. Microwave dinners – don't even constitute human food. Ketchup – how come you drench everything you eat in that nasty stuff? Candy – no good for you, goes in the garbage. Pop Tarts – are you really eating that? Beer – how come more than half of your fridge is occupied by beer? That's not food. And this hamburger is way out of date..."

I sat down at the table and tried to wrap my mind around what was happening.

"Gina? What exactly are you doing?"

She looked back and gave me that thousand watt smile again.

"Why, making lunch of course Silly – don't you know what time it is? Oh tuna, egg and shrimp – so you DO have real human food here. And cheese too. I think we will have a nice frittata..."

"GINA!"

"Yes amore? "

I finally had her attention. Time to find out what the hell was going on. So I asked her the most pertinent question.

"When did you cut your hair?"

She struck a pose and made a 360 spin modeling-style, "You like? I did it when starting work. In the world of corporate law long haired blondes are mostly secretaries and I wanted to be taken seriously as a lawyer."

I had to admit that the short blonde hair and the understated yet elegant pantsuit made her look all business. And adapting a more conservative style certainly hadn't taken anything away from her attractiveness. She was still as hauntingly beautiful as she had been when I last saw her almost six months ago.

Well, technically only five months, twenty-one days and ten hours ago – but who's counting?

She had been the typical beach-blonde back then. Amazing how radically a person can change in just a few months – and sadly this goes for relationships as well. She had walked out on me in a really bad way and in doing so broken my heart. We were as good as over.

"Gina. You know we're divorced, right? Do you realize what that means?"

She continued stirring the eggs while talking.

"I'm a lawyer amore. I know very well what divorce means. And we are not, nor are we ever going to be. Do you want peas and shredded carrots in yours? Veggies are good for the stamina you know."

Huh? Had she fucking lost it?

"Gina. You know as well as I do that papers are filed and our divorce will be final in two months. There is nothing..."

"You silly boy," she laughed. "We both made a promise to God till death do us part. You can file all the papers you want but one does not simply break a promise to God. You have a wife and she is not going anywhere in this lifetime. There is nothing that you, the courts or all the kings men can do to change that. Now stop acting stupid and tell me where you keep the oregano. Please tell me that we are not out..."

"YOU walked out on ME Gina. Remember? What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to think?"

"I didn't walk out on you amore. Never. I just needed a little time-out to collect myself after you told me about your problem. What did you expect? I was deeply shocked and distraught."

"PROBLEM? What problem? I have no fucking problem. It's a preference – or a fetish, if you will. I'm a guy for Christ sake. We're turned on by various parts of women's bodies. It's the natural way of things. Your god made us like that."

She turned the frittata – it smelled delicious.

"Whatever. I was weirded out and you made me very sad too, realizing that I did not correspond to that odd fetish of yours. I had to talk to Nonna about it and decided to live with her for a short while – she always knows what to do. Unfortunately she is getting older and is no longer so healthy, so I guess my stay became a little longer than planned. I am sorry amore, I should have talked to you much sooner, but then I started work and time just trickled away."

I always found Gina's grandmother on her father's side – Nonna – a little scary. You know the kind of person that gives you the feeling that they're looking right through any pretense or bullshit? The kind of person that just seems to know all about you five minutes after you meet them? That was Nonna in a nutshell – an Italian version of Agatha Christie's Miss Marple. She might have been old and frail, but she was the undisputed grand matriarch of her family. She was the one everybody in her family looked to for guidance or assistance, and I was positive that she had approved of me as a suitable husband for Gina before my proposal was accepted.

Knowing this, it made perfect sense that Gina had seeked out Nonna as her safe harbor in a storm. I should have thought of that when she disappeared and I couldn't reach her. What I didn't get however was WHY she had been so upset over what I said in the first place. It's not like I was into hard bondage or torture or something.

Gina walked behind my chair and put her hands on my shoulders. They felt dry, slightly cool and so good I got goose bumps.

"Ohhh you are SO tense amore. I think I need to massage these sexy broad shoulders of yours a little while the food cooks. Then maybe we can see about the rest of your various... areas of tension... after lunch."

She bent down to my ear and whispered.

"Remember that you are dealing with a woman in her prime who has not had any kind of sexual satisfaction for six months."

I tried to turn my head, but she held me in place and kept kneading my shoulders.

"Surely you masturbated regularly..." I began.

"No. I am a married woman and I refuse to do my mans job for him."

"So you have really been celibate for ALL that time? No dating, no fingering on the dance floor, no quickie with an old boyfriend, no nothing?"

"I have been unfailingly true to my vows amore. As have you."

"Eh, how do you know...?"

I jerked up and turned to look her in the eyes.

"Fuck Gina! You had me followed, didn't you? You had a goddamned tail on me!"

"I asked Papa to put a couple of men on you, yes. There are so many women out there who would love to get their hands on somebody like you, regardless of the fact that you are spoken for already. I trust you with all my heart amore, but I do not trust THEM. I had to protect our marriage."

Now I was pissed.

"Trust is good but control is better, huh? Is that it? That stunt has NOTHING to do with trust Gina. So how about yourself? I didn't have anybody spying on you. How do I know for sure that YOU haven't been sleeping around on me with other guys?"

I didn't even SEE the hand that hit me, and I more 'heard' than 'felt' the slap that made my left cheek burn. My ears hadn't stopped ringing yet when a large carving knife was slammed half an inch into the tabletop right in front of me with a sharp thud. Gina held the handle in a white-knuckled grip and stared at me intensely, her brown eyes like smoldering embers of burning coal. There was no smile on her face now.

"Don't you DARE question my honor Lance – EVER!"

She held my gaze for a second, until I blinked. Then she jerked the knife free and turned to continue her cooking. I heard a cucumber getting sliced with a lot more ferocity than normally needed for the task.

Whew. Our time apart certainly hadn't dulled that temper of hers. And considering her aggressive sexuality, living half a year without orgasm probably didn't help her mood. I briefly considered saying something about double standards, but swallowed my clever comeback and remained silent. This was not a good time for a biting retort. Sometimes silence is gold.

****

The meal was delicious and I realized that lack of sex and companionship wasn't the only reason why I had missed Gina.

You know how some women live by the saying: 'the way to a mans heart goes through his stomach?' That's a lie of course, perpetuated by ugly or frigid women who would rather cook than fuck, but being a great cook never hurts your popularity. Gina grew up in a family of gourmets and could play the kitchen like a concert pianist plays a Steinway. I hadn't had a home cooked meal for a long time and enjoyed the hell out of this one - to her obvious delight.

But we still had some major issues to straighten out and no amount of food would fix them for us. I told her so much and she somberly agreed. Thus we found ourselves in the living room in a pair of easy chairs recovering from over-eating and enjoying a glass of quality Recioto.

"You know, " Gina started with a sly smile. "I read in an interview that Angelina Jolie always insists that both are naked when she are having serious talks with her husband."

"Normally I would love the idea of being naked with you for any reason but neither of us has had sex for several months. I don't think it would work Gina. Today I'm a better conversationalist if I see as little of your body as possible."

She sighed in resignation.

"You are correct amore – it goes for me too. And to be honest I think I am also stalling for time because of what Nonna told me to do. She want me to... she says... well... because of the trust you put in me by revealing your perversity..."

"Fetish," I injected, "or preference. There is nothing perverse about it!"

"Whatever - your 'preference' then. Well, Nonna says that I have to demonstrate a similar level of trust and tell you MY deepest secret in order to level the scales. So I will do that now."

She gathered herself for a second.

"But know this Lance: If you EVER as much as WHISPER a word to ANYBODY about this I will..."

I interrupted her tirade of bloody threats before it gained momentum.

"Stop right there Gina! If you feel so bad about telling, then I don't need to hear it. I don't need any kind of leverage over you, if that's what you're afraid of. But YOU should know THIS: I love you and regardless of what may happen in the future I will NEVER betray your trust. If you doubt this, our marriage is doomed and we might as well call it quits now."

She lowered her head attempting to hide a tear.

"I am so sorry amore. I guess I have adapted to the guarded mindset of a lawyer. I love you with all my heart and I trust you. You are my wedded husband and you have opened up to me. I am afraid but want you to know all about me as well. So here goes..."

She took at deep breath while I waited in a mix of fear and anticipation. While hiding her face in her hands she whispered...

"I am not really a blonde."

I sat for a few seconds with my mouth agape not believing my ears. Then I buckled over in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

When I finally regained my composure I was face to face with a seriously pissed-off Gina. I silently thanked whatever deity watches over stupid guys for the fact that we didn't have any knives in the living room, and tried to explain my unexpected reaction.

"Seriously? THAT'S your big and scary secret? Do you think I care what color your hair is? Do you think ANYBODY cares? Do you know how many girls color their hair? I didn't mean to ridicule your feelings Gina, but hair coloring is really not an issue for anybody these days."

She sighed and her angry expression melted away.

"You are probably right amore. But to me the significance is more than merely a hair color."

She leaned back and shifted nervously in her chair.

"You have met the women of my family - mom, my aunts, my older cousins. Did you notice what they all have in common?"

"They're nice. I like your family."

"But how do they look?"

"Well, they look nice too I guess..."

"Bullshit!"

"Eh?"

"They are all curly-haired voluptuous brunettes with a waistline that is growing progressively with age and each new child that pops out of them. They can't talk about anything but kids, family, town gossip or the church bazaar, and they are treated like fucking nobodies around the house! Like fucking cattle!"

"That's a bit harsh Gina..."

"Come on. Have you not noticed how the women are excluded when the men are talking business or serious matters? Have you ever seen Papa get up and help mom clear the table after dinner? Or do something with her? Papa and mom do not go places together – he takes her places. Papa and mom do not buy stuff together – he buys her stuff. For all intent and purposes she is a kept woman with no identity or ambitions outside of what he allows. I love my mom and my aunts but I will NEVER be like them!"

Gina was tearing up with emotions. I took her hand.

"One day when I was fourteen I looked in the mirror and guess what I saw Lance? I saw a typical Italian girl with brown curly hair that looked EXACTLY like a fourteen-year-old version of my mom. Let me tell you, I FREAKED! And that was the moment I made my big life decision to break the circle and change my destiny. Nonna helped me, and the first thing we did was straighten and bleach my hair. There were other things involved – like being careful with what I eat and train regularly so I don't get fat, and getting a degree so I can buy my own things and make my own decisions. But my hair color was the beginning of the 'new me' and since I was fourteen NOBODY has seen me as a brunette."

"Eh... wow Gina. I don't know what to say. I would love you even if you had blue hair, but I understand why this is important to you. I promise that I will keep your secret. By the way, you certainly had ME fooled. I always took you for a genuine blonde."

She smiled coyly.

"You mean because the carpet matches the drapes? Oh yes, I bleach my pubic hair when I am not waxed. It was Nonna's idea. Obviously I was too young to care in the beginning, but she told me that some day when I was all grown up and ready I would meet a nice man that might want to see me naked. Therefore she advised me to get used to being a blonde down there as well."

I caught myself thinking about Gina naked and felt my cock starting to respond. But with a burst of sheer will power I forced my focus back to the matter at hand. I wanted nothing more than jump her right there, but we weren't in the clear yet. It was true - I didn't give a rat's ass what hair-color Gina had as long as she was happy. But if she couldn't accept MY fetish in the same spirit of tolerance our future together would still be in serious jeopardy.

"So now you know my deepest and darkest secret Lance. There is nothing more to reveal about me, no more skeletons in the closet. This is who I am. The pure and undiluted me"

"Brunette, eh?"

"Yes."

"So have you had more fun since you turned blonde?"

That earned me a smile.

"Oh yes."

"And now it's my turn, eh?" I cleared my throat.

"Yes amore - please. I do not understand your... thing... but I desperately want to. I NEED to find out why you like girls who has hair on their arms. It is very strange to me and something I have never encountered before. That is why I had to leave for a while and think it over. You took me by surprise that day."

"No shit. You didn't exactly take that information very well," I commented dryly.

"What on earth did you expect Lance? We were in bed together having just made wonderful love - basking in the afterglow and enjoying the intimacy - and suddenly you decided to tell me about your attraction to girls with hairy forearms. Something that I did not have. How do you think that made me feel? What if I had told you that I preferred guys with a much larger penis than yours? How would you have felt?"

"Oh shit Gina. I didn't think..."

"No you clearly did not! You see Lance - I did not run away because I was disgusted with you. I ran away because my husband had just told me that I lacked what turned him on! I felt like a complete failure in my marriage."

"But you DO turn me on Gina. Very much so. That fetish is only a part of my sexuality – a small part – and the rest is so much more important. That's why I married you and that's why you're the perfect woman for me. Ask yourself this: Have you EVER had a problem turning me on and driving me crazy with lust?"

"Nope." she smiled.

"There ya go. The defense rests your honor. Please render your verdict."

Gina laughed and it was music to my ears. We WERE going to be all right now. I was almost certain of it.

"Very well amore. I believe you and I probably over-reacted – that is what Nonna told me too. But how come you never told me about this fetish of yours before? Why wait so long?"

"Because of the way society reacts Gina, and especially the way girls react. Hairy girls are not treated nicely these days nor are the men who like them. Some fetishes are viewed as positive by most It's perfectly fine to be a 'boob-man' or an 'ass-man' or a 'leg-man', and even men with a foot fetish or a shoe fetish are generally accepted by everybody. But men with a preference for girls who are natural or even hirsute are seen as creepy and perverted."

She nodded thoughtfully. I continued.

"I dated a few girls in high school with hairy arms, but as soon as I told them about my fetish they grew uneasy and either broke up with me or became overly conscious about it and started waxing. Naturally I soon learned to keep my fetish a secret, whether I was with a hairy girl or not. You can praise a girl for her boobs and she will probably blush and giggle, but if you praise her for being hairy she'll make the sign of the cross and run for the hills to get away from the pervert."

"I am beginning to understand why you kept your kink under wraps for so long amore. And you really only told me...?"

"... because I love you, yes. You are my wife Gina. I didn't want to have any secrets from you. I was NOT comparing you to any other girl – there IS no comparison. I just happened to feel comfortable telling you at that unfortunate moment. And because of my lapse in judgement we have been legally separated for five months, twenty-one days and eleven hours."

She laughed again.

"You are actually counting the days? That is SO adorable. I love you so much amore. I feel blessed to have you as my husband. I don't care if you are a weirdo, as long as you are MY weirdo."

Finally the danger was over and I felt an indescribable elation. Everything was out in the open and we both understood and accepted each other without reservation. Our deepest secrets hadn't been able to split us up, and, if anything, our bond was stronger now than before. Nonna was a very smart woman indeed. Yeah I was scared of her still, but in that moment I loved her for giving me my wife back.