out of bed to entertain hot teenagers while incidentally also teaching them a few words of French, then come home to a horny wife waiting for him with her legs spread eagle on the appropriately named love chair.
When he shared some of these plans with his fiancée, Karen didnât seem too excited. She objected that her family lived in the Detroit area. Besides, she really liked the physicianâs office where she was currently employed. But agreeing upon a location wasnât the main obstacle to their future bliss. The more Michael got to know Karen, the more he realized that she could never be the kind of wife he had dreamed of. Did such a woman even exist? Or was he engaging in wishful thinking when he hoped to find a woman with the perfect mixture of seemingly opposite qualitiesâthe faithful and devoted whore, the frugal and modest hottieâthat was most menâs wet dream? If he couldnât find the ideal woman, then he might as well enjoy his freedom and play the field, he concluded.
Women have it so much easier, Michael mused. They donât have to do quite as much empirical research. They pick the first fool whoâs foolish enough to hand them an engagement ring. Wait a minute, I was such a fool, it occurred to him. Michael released a shiver of relief. Holy shit! I barely escaped the shackles of matrimony. He sprung up from bed and poured himself a glass of cognac, his favorite cocktail. He drank it slowly, allowing each drop to glide smoothly down his throat and tickle his palate. He then climbed out of his bedroom window to the roof, as he used to do as a child in his parentsâ house. Michael stretched out his body on the warm shingles like a tomcat. He looked up at the expanse of blue sky. Not a single cloud in sight, he observed with a sense of inner satisfaction, perceiving the endless horizon as a symbol of his newly regained freedom.
Chapter 6
Karen drove back home, her eyes clouded by tears. She entered her parentsâ house and headed straight for the refrigerator. A therapeutic gallon of chocolate swirl ice cream awaited her for precisely such dire occasions. Grabbing a soupspoon, she dug into it with a vengeance. She was consumed with anger and, even more so, with disgust. Yet, somehow, the icy tingles at the back of her throat, combined with the sugary taste melting in her mouth, momentarily took her mind off her emotional distress. She was simultaneously punishing and rewarding herself. She hated herself but blamed him more. What is a binge on chocolate vanilla swirl if not the perfect blend of opposites? Immediately afterwards, Karen knew what she had to do to expiate this moment of guilty pleasure. She went into the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, stuck her index finger deep into her throat and made repeated efforts to gag. Nothing came out at first, but she was eventually rewarded for her persistence by a little cascade of sour-sweet liquid that she quickly flushed away.
She then lay down on the sofa and stared blankly at the ceiling. How I loved him! she lamented. And now itâs all over. Iâm stuck in an impossible situation. I canât forgive him but I canât forget him either. Heâs probably in her arms right now. Although she had never met Lisa, Karen had a graphic mental picture of Michael having sex with a big-breasted woman. Even if we tried to get back together, it would be impossible to trust him again, she tried to convince herself that she made the right decision. At the same time, the thought of a permanent separation was unbearably painful to her. In spite of what her fiancé had done, Karen loved Michael even more now that she had lost him for good. She needed to talk to someone about this. In the absence of any close friends, she decided to call her older sister, Maggie, who was indifferently married to a plumber with whom she had two kids plus one on the way. Generally speaking, Karen preferred to avoid discussing personal matters
When he shared some of these plans with his fiancée, Karen didnât seem too excited. She objected that her family lived in the Detroit area. Besides, she really liked the physicianâs office where she was currently employed. But agreeing upon a location wasnât the main obstacle to their future bliss. The more Michael got to know Karen, the more he realized that she could never be the kind of wife he had dreamed of. Did such a woman even exist? Or was he engaging in wishful thinking when he hoped to find a woman with the perfect mixture of seemingly opposite qualitiesâthe faithful and devoted whore, the frugal and modest hottieâthat was most menâs wet dream? If he couldnât find the ideal woman, then he might as well enjoy his freedom and play the field, he concluded.
Women have it so much easier, Michael mused. They donât have to do quite as much empirical research. They pick the first fool whoâs foolish enough to hand them an engagement ring. Wait a minute, I was such a fool, it occurred to him. Michael released a shiver of relief. Holy shit! I barely escaped the shackles of matrimony. He sprung up from bed and poured himself a glass of cognac, his favorite cocktail. He drank it slowly, allowing each drop to glide smoothly down his throat and tickle his palate. He then climbed out of his bedroom window to the roof, as he used to do as a child in his parentsâ house. Michael stretched out his body on the warm shingles like a tomcat. He looked up at the expanse of blue sky. Not a single cloud in sight, he observed with a sense of inner satisfaction, perceiving the endless horizon as a symbol of his newly regained freedom.
Chapter 6
Karen drove back home, her eyes clouded by tears. She entered her parentsâ house and headed straight for the refrigerator. A therapeutic gallon of chocolate swirl ice cream awaited her for precisely such dire occasions. Grabbing a soupspoon, she dug into it with a vengeance. She was consumed with anger and, even more so, with disgust. Yet, somehow, the icy tingles at the back of her throat, combined with the sugary taste melting in her mouth, momentarily took her mind off her emotional distress. She was simultaneously punishing and rewarding herself. She hated herself but blamed him more. What is a binge on chocolate vanilla swirl if not the perfect blend of opposites? Immediately afterwards, Karen knew what she had to do to expiate this moment of guilty pleasure. She went into the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, stuck her index finger deep into her throat and made repeated efforts to gag. Nothing came out at first, but she was eventually rewarded for her persistence by a little cascade of sour-sweet liquid that she quickly flushed away.
She then lay down on the sofa and stared blankly at the ceiling. How I loved him! she lamented. And now itâs all over. Iâm stuck in an impossible situation. I canât forgive him but I canât forget him either. Heâs probably in her arms right now. Although she had never met Lisa, Karen had a graphic mental picture of Michael having sex with a big-breasted woman. Even if we tried to get back together, it would be impossible to trust him again, she tried to convince herself that she made the right decision. At the same time, the thought of a permanent separation was unbearably painful to her. In spite of what her fiancé had done, Karen loved Michael even more now that she had lost him for good. She needed to talk to someone about this. In the absence of any close friends, she decided to call her older sister, Maggie, who was indifferently married to a plumber with whom she had two kids plus one on the way. Generally speaking, Karen preferred to avoid discussing personal matters
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