ankles and I had picked a dress that would stand up under crushing. I had left my
drawers off not alone for his convenience (and mine) but because, if you are not
wearing drawers and encounter an emergency, you don’t have to scramble to put them
on.
As for Dr Zeke the stupid geek, all he needed to do before he answered that door was
to button his pants… which he had to do anyhow.
We could have brazened it out. We could have looked them in the eye, refused to look
guilty, invited them into our conference.
But what he did was grab my arm, shove me into his coat closet, and turn the key on
me.
I stood in there, in the dark, for two solid hours that seemed like two years. I
kept my sanity by thinking up painful ways to kill him. ‘Hoisting him by his own
petard’ was the simplest. Some of the others are too nasty to think about.
Finally he unlocked the door, looked at me and whispered hoarsely, ‘They’re gone
now. Let’s slip you out the back door.’
I didn’t spit in his face. I said, ‘No, Doctor, we will now have our conference.
Then you will escort me out the front door of the church, and you will stand there,
chatting with me, until several people have seen us.’
‘No, no, Mrs Smith! I think -‘
‘You didn’t think. Doctor, the only alternative is for me to run screaming out of
here shouting “Rape!”… and what a police matron will find inside me that you left
there will prove rape to a jury.’
When Brian got home, I told him about it. I had considered keeping it to myself. But
we had reached a friendly agreement three years earlier concerning how and when we
could each adulterate our marriage without offending or damaging the other. So I
decided to make a clean breast of it and accept a spanking if he thought I rated it.
I thought I did rate a spanking… and if it was a truly hard spanking, that would
be an excuse to cry and that would probably wind up wonderfully.
So I wasn’t too worried. But I did want to confess and be shrived.
That friendly agreement for prudent adultery – we had resolved to operate together
whenever possible, and always to help each other, cover up for each other, and help
the other make the kill. The discussion had come about through Dr Rumsey’s
confirming that I was pregnant again (with Brian, Junior) and I was feeling
especially sentimental. That, plus an incitement: we had received a pianissimo
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‘mixed doubles’ invitation from a couple we liked.
I started in by telling Briney solemnly that I intended to be utterly faithful to
him. I had been faithful for four years and now that I knew that I could be, I would
be, till death do us part.
He had answered, ‘Look, stupid, you’re sweet but not smart. You started in at
fourteen -‘
‘Almost fifteen!’
‘Short of fifteen. You told me that twelve other men and boys had sampled your
sweetness – but you wanted to know if I thought that the candidates on your Howard
list need be counted? Then you revised the tally, telling me that a couple of minor
incidents had slipped your mind. You also told me that you had learned to enjoy it
almost at once… but you wanted me to know that I was the best. Swivel Hips, do you
really think that it changed you and your happy loving ways forever just because
that bonehead preacher said some magic words over you? Truth will out, the leopard
does not change his spots, and the day inevitably comes. When it does, I want you to
enjoy it but to stay out of trouble… for your sake. But I do not expect you to be
what society calls “faithful” forever amen. I do expect you not to get pregnant, not
to catch some filthy disease, not to cause a scandal, not to shame me or yourself,
not to risk the welfare of our children. Mostly that means using common sense and