Tuesday, November 25, 2008


I woke up alone in the huge bed in Jackie’s hotel suite. It was after 3AM and I had been asleep for just a little while. I was just starting to wonder what happened to her when she came into the room from the bathroom. I thought she was wearing the shirt I had taken off many hours ago but there wasn’t enough light in the room to tell for sure. She slid into bed.

“I fell asleep,” I said.
“I know… did I wear you out, sweetie?”
“I’m out of practice, sorry,” I said.
Sorry? This has been a great night… don’t you think?”
“Yeah, it has been great. I hope it isn’t over yet.”
I pulled her in to me. I was on my right side, she on her left.
“Another costume change I see…”
“Well, the funny thing about all those sexy corsets, thongs, and things, Wil, is that they’re really uncomfortable… so I put on something that looked easier to sleep in… just something I found around here…” she said.
“You’re not wearing it right,” I said as I unbuttoned the shirt three more buttons so it was held together by just the bottom two buttons, “there, that’s better.”

“Question time,” she said.
“Do we have to?” I said.
“Yes. But you’ll get to ask questions too.”
“OK, I guess.”
“Good. Alright, you’re separated from your wife Kendra but not divorced. You have a ‘girlfriend’ who you never see… or at least not very often… so, how did all of this happen?” Jackie asked.
I gave her the Reader’s Digest version over the next few minutes.
“Hmm. I don’t like that story very much. Not very satisfying,” she said, “But I guess you get a question now.”

“OK. Why did you dump me back twenty-four and half years ago?” I asked.
“I didn’t,” she said, “Now, my turn again.”
Whoa! What do you mean you didn’t?”
“I didn’t. I was very uncomfortable that whole time I came to see you. I thought everybody around you thought I was this idiot from the sticks. I was uneasy and I didn’t like seeing you there… I wanted you back home with me… but that couldn’t happen and, well, it was horrible for me and so I kind of pulled back from you that weekend… and then you sent me a letter that made it sound like I was trying to get rid of you or something and I didn’t know what to do… so I did nothing. I was a different person then… the way I am now I would have called you and given you an earful… but I didn’t have much confidence then and so… I gave up… But I DID NOT dump you. I loved you.”

I was quiet for a while thinking about how different our lives would have been and how such enormous changes in two lives could hinge on one small event or even a misunderstanding. She was quiet too.

“My turn,” she said, “What made you think you could tie my wrists together and bend me over and smack my ass without me telling you to get the hell out of here?” She asked the question with a smile in her voice, thankfully.

“Well, OK, the night we talked on the phone… you were at a gas station… when I told you I’d come see you… like you wanted me to… you happily said that I was a ‘mean bastard’ and also that you ‘could count on me’. I thought about that a lot. I know I was never really mean to you so I thought that you had used, kind of, the wrong word to express what you really meant... plus the fact that you said you could count on me was big. So I finally decided that what you meant by ‘mean’ was more like rough… demanding… taking what I wanted… not mean as in cruel to you. And, well, yeah, that would be me, I could do that in a way you could count on," I said, "
So there was that, and then the other part was that when I first saw you in the bar downstairs I thought about how much I would enjoy bending you over, spanking your nice round ass and fucking you hard from behind.”

“I see,” she said, grinning.
“So, I took a little risk,” I said.
“A calculated risk,” she said.
“Not much of a risk really.”
“No. Not really that much of a risk. Wil, this is exactly why I e-mailed you. I’m married to a great guy… I was unmarried for a long time, you know, after divorcing my daughter’s father… and when I was almost forty I got kinda panic-stricken about getting old without anyone. Well, anyway, he’s great, and I would never leave him, but… he asks me too much,” she said.

“Asks you?” I said.
“This is tough to explain. I run my own business, I built the thing pretty much from scratch, I spend the whole day making decisions and answering everybody’s questions and… I don’t know how to put this correctly, but I like someone else to be in charge for at least a few minutes every day. I don’t want anybody running my life… but I just want some time every so often where I am not in charge of every fucking thing. You know?” she said.
“I know what you’re saying, but I don’t know the feeling personally,” I said.
“Well, it’s a fine line, ya know, so I got to my mid-forties and I didn’t regret getting married a few years earlier. It was a smart decision and all… but I started to worry that I would never feel a certain way again… and, well, I actually thought about having an affair but I was worried about it and how I might screw up my business… I don’t know… I’m a chicken about that and I also didn’t know who I could even have an affair with,” she laughed, “and then I saw a story about you in the newspaper… with a picture… and I thought…”

What newspaper story?” I said.
“There was this thing in your hometown paper about your promotion or something. I advertise in those little papers so I was looking at it to see if they ran my ad right and your name jumped off the page… the picture was alright, too,” she said with a smile.

“Oh.” It was true that our public relations people put out press releases for the trade mags when company executives got promoted and they also sent them to other general papers—they ask for a list. I had given them the name of my hometown weekly but didn’t know they had run it.

“I’ll have to remember to thank the guys in press relations,” I said, “ But I’ll probably leave out the part about fucking you in the ass.”
“Excuse me!? You haven’t done anything of the sort,” she said.
“I know, Jackie, but why exactly did you bring the lube I saw in the drawer when you made me get a condom?”


L. said...

Y'know, the girly part of me wanted to go, Awwww, misunderstandings SUCK. What if? What if, indeed.

The other non-girly part of me raises a very sartorial eyebrow at your lube cliffhanger.

Good to have you back, Mr. Wilson.

Coquette said...

This is the funnest story ever.

I am now busy revisiting ex-boyfriends in my mind, seeing which of them might play the role of Mr. Wilson in my life...

Cate said...

I liked Jackie then and I think I like her even more now.

Glad you are back.

Cate xxx

P.S. You are just as much of a tease, if not moreso. ;-)

Kyra said...

I love playing questions. But I see you are a little uncomfortable with them.

Nice cliffhanger. Cate's right, you're a tease. A scrumptious one.

I can't wait to hear what happens next. Did it match that hot wet dream you had about Jackie? I would guess the answer is yes.

Nice to have you back, Wil. I hope you get in some good therapy time. For purely selfish reasons.

Wil said...

L.- I love it when you do that with your eyebrow.

C.- Accept no substitutes. Always insist on the real Mr. Wilson for all of your, er, needs.

Cate- Yeah, you had her pegged from the start as I recall. Tease on, Cate.

K- True, I'm not fond of interrogations. But, you beautiful women always find a way to get me to talk.

Ms. Inconspicuous said...

Hey now, Mr. Detective, lube can be used for a lot of different things...

You can imagine, I'm incredibly interested in the next installment...

Krazy said...

I don't think we've formally met but I've read your blog for a while. I am glad you're back.

Wil said...

Ms. I- Do tell.

Krazy- This is as formal as it gets for me these days I guess. So, let me say, "Nice to meet you, Krazy."

Krazy said...

My pleasure Wil!