Body of Ash (35 page)

Without any bedding between them, Marge began rubbing her crotch against his groin. Smiling down at him, she began moaning. “I’m ready to be your wife. You know it. I know it. I just need to make your missus know it.”

Her voice was really grating his nerves. Usually they would fuck first and she would listen to him talk later, but she was acting different. In charge, zealous, and demanding – she was taking his role, his masculinity. What little he had left of his erection began fading.

“I’m going to have a talk with her,” Marge continued. “I’m going to make her see that she has to get out. I’m your wife now.” Bending over him, she ran the tip of her tongue along his jaw. Brian turned his face, avoiding her mouth from touching his.

Halting, Marge leaned back and looked down at his lap. Following her line of view, he realized his erection had gone completely limp.

“What’s your problem tonight? You had no difficulty getting it up earlier.”

Because I want Daisy, not you.

“I don’t know. Maybe that pill you stuffed in my mouth is fucking with the booze I’ve been drinking today.” Even as he said it, he knew he was too drunk to perform as
good
as he usually did. Holding completely motionless, he still felt like he was in a boat, with the earth rocking beneath the bed.

“It’s only Xanax. It’s not like I gave you dope or something. It is supposed to relax you.” Climbing off him,
Marge studied him carefully. Her own eyes were rimmed and glossy. Suddenly, she smiled, an idea coming to mind. Curling up against him, she ran her fingers over his naval, and down into his mound of pubic hair. “Besides, I promised you a wonderful night, so we don’t have to rush it.”

As Marge nipped at his chest, Brian closed his eyes tightly and tried to concentrate on the stimulation of her hands and mouth instead of the alcohol in his system. He was definitely wasted, and it wasn’t what he had in mind when he first opened his bottle of jack at home. Getting a little bit drunk while he watched porn was doable, but this was completely something else. Never had he mixed that many types of alcohol in one day, nor had he taken pills.

I just wanted a quick lay before I went out for Rachel.

Not that he would be able to do anything for his daughter now. The damn room was spinning and Marge was insatiable. Even though he was plastered, she still wanted him to screw.

“Come on baby,” Marge murmured. “You know you want me – all of me.”

Clamping his eyes even tighter, Brian hoped by not seeing her, he could shut out her voice too. The problem was he didn’t want her. When had he grown tired of laying Marge?  Was it before she showed up at his home and announced their
fucking affair? Or was it sooner? He tried guessing, but his head couldn’t process the thoughts. One thing he knew was that he had been looking for someone new, someone younger who could make him feel alive – someone like Daisy.

As Marge continued to stroke him, Brian began pretending it was the waitress from Lucinda’s joining him in bed: her delicate mouth on his chest, her small hands gripping him with a steady rhythm.  The thought of red hair slipping across his skin made his heart race. Suddenly, he could feel his body starting to respond, arousal sending need to his loins.

Oh hell, yeah.

In response to Brian’s excitement, Marge climbed onto him again. Still imagining Daisy, he fought off his drunken haze to keep the fantasy going. Her creamy skin, the swell of her breasts, he had been waiting so long to have her on him.

“Look at me,” Marge commanded.

Daisy’s thighs squeezing me…Daisy taking off her uniform, wanting sex...

“Brian,” Marge snapped. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Forcing his lids open, Brian tried to avoid Marge’s gaze. Telling himself it was Daisy he was screwing, he tried staring
at the wall. The motion of the bed rocking mixed with the taste of wine, causing his head to spin and his stomach to roll. Marge pressed her fingers against his cheek, turning his head to face her.

“I want you to watch me and know this is forever. We’re going to be married soon and you’ll have me on top, riding you like this forever.”

What the fuck does that mean?

Brian grabbed her hips and flipped her onto her back. Gasping for air, Marge tried keeping him wedged between her legs, preparing to switch positions. Hauling himself onto his elbows, he pushed until he was in an upright position, and draped his legs over the side of the bed. The dizzying effect in his head was immediate. The walls and floors wavered around him, the sensation of movement overwhelming.

“I’ve got to go,” he said.

“What?
Now?”
Marge sat up, confused.

“Rachel’s missing – I should be out finding her.”

Marge laughed, thinking it was a joke. After a moment of him just sitting there, she shook her head, trying to make sense of the night. “What the hell are you talking about? You can’t leave. We’re together now – our life starts now.”
Clamping her hand on Brian’s wrist, she squeezed until he looked at her. “I’m telling Angela tomorrow. I was going to tonight, but she wasn’t there.”

Pulling free from her grip, Brian stood up.  His head felt like someone peeled back his skull and packed it with mashed potatoes and battery acid. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want you to say another damn word to my wife.”

Taking a few steps, his feet felt funny beneath him, like they were merging with the floor.

Where am I going again?

“You can’t leave,” Marge hissed. Scurrying to her feet, she tried grabbing at his hands, but wasn’t quick enough. “That wasn’t a part of the plan. Tonight is our night.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Brian spoke, his words barely coherent. “You just don’t do it for me anymore. I can’t even get a boner without thinking of someone else.”

“What? Why?” Marge’s face paled.

Swaying a little on his feet, Brian considered her. Standing buck-ass naked with her hair all crazy, she looked distressed and tired. Eyes wide and skin pale, Marge stood
waiting for him to say something, unsure if his garble was all a joke.

Shaking his head, he wondered why he was there with her. Why he found himself incased in a relationship with a woman so needy. “You’re old…and you’re desperate.”

Turning his back on her, he tottered down the hall, unwilling to explain further. His pants and shoes were left by the front door, but he wasn’t so sure where Marge tossed his shirt. Brian just hoped his head would stop spinning long enough to get dressed or he would be walking home naked.

Maybe the brisk air will sober me up.

Rounding the corner, Brian came to a sudden halt.

Like a dream, standing before him, in leather pants and fuck me heels, was Daisy, the red head, waiting for him. Daisy, the one woman he had been thinking of all day – the only female capable of giving him a hard on without even having to touch him.

Well, well, it’s about damn time.

Looking down at his crotch, Brian grinned as the blood flowed towards his erection.

“Daisy,” he sputtered, trying not to sound completely wasted. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

49

MARGE

Friday 9:18 PM

Marge’s knees crumpled. Clutching her bureau, she tried to hold herself steady to keep from falling to the floor, but he was leaving – walking away after all she had given him. She wanted to stop him, to make him come back. The wine she had been drinking was making her head feel wrong. Trying to hold herself up, her entire body trembled uncontrollably.

That was some powerful Xanax.

Not a single thing made Brian happy all night long. Not going to the bar, not wearing the new lingerie,
not
getting it up.
Nothing.
He didn’t even touch her, just laid there, looking bored, expecting her to do all of the damn work.

I put myself out there. I danced for him and tried to turn him on, and this is the thanks I get?

Marge could feel her face burning. Clenching her teeth, she wanted to make him pay. Make him feel the same disappointment she did. If he thought he could just walk out after all she had gone through to make him happy, he was wrong. Marge wasn’t a lousy hooker he picked up at the casinos – she was desired by men all over town. Even the fellas at the bar knew she was a catch. The way they watched her while Brian pretended to be so badass – they were waiting for a sign, a signal from her that she would leave with one of them instead. But, no – she loved the bastard and knew he loved her, too.

Standing up straighter, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. God she was thin. Skin clung to her ribs and sternum, outlining her boney frame beneath. Even her neck was showing lumps of cartilage and veins – all from eating fat free. She had been depriving herself of food just to keep him happy, knowing how important it was to stay slim and attractive so Brian wouldn’t leave. Smoking cigarettes,
skipping meals, it was all for that man so he could see how much better she was then that ice queen he kept at home. 

All of the hours Marge spent selecting outfits, pouring through catalogues and studying beauty magazines, trying to stay in fashion for him. Planning their life together, their happiness together, and what did he
decide
to do? He says he wants to leave. Tonight was meant to be their time. They were going to become husband and wife. Angela was the only one supposed to go away.

But, no – he wants to go back to that bitch.

Smacking the mirror off the wall, a scream rose from her chest. The frame careened to the floor, sending splinters of glass burrowing into the carpet. 

Williston left like that. Just walked out after announcing Marge wasn’t enough. He didn’t give her a chance to show him how much she loved him or discuss what changes she would be willing to make if he would stay. After ten years of slaving over the man, doing everything he wanted, her ex-husband decided he wasn’t attracted to her anymore and wanted a man in his bed.
A man instead of the woman who gave him a child.

That bastard, Williston, shows up today and can’t say one fucking nice thing.
Now this?
Brian leaves, too?

Grabbing a pair of underwear from the floor, she rammed them up her hips. Marge wouldn’t sit back and let him go. Not this time. She was done sitting back, doing nothing. Storming from her room, his words whipped around her head, digging at her feelings, leaving her hurt. Calling her old, desperate – everything she worked to prevent, he was talking out his ass.

He’s lying. I know he wants me.

Pounding down the hall, she heard a wail coming from the living room.

“Katie?” she called out.

Confused, Marge tried deciphering the sound. Her daughter wasn’t supposed to be home yet. It was Friday night and Halloween. The teen wouldn’t come back until tomorrow and then only after sleeping off a hangover at one of her friend’s houses.