She was staring at herself in the mirror. Looking back was not a reflection, but proof of a tragic
predicament: she had seen too much, again.
“can we talk?”
He immediately sensed something was amiss. He’d been raised by a woman whose fiery tirades usually began with a request for a conversation. He knew that tone. He decided to stall for as long as possible.
“not a good time babe... I’m heading down to the station to finish my edits on the corruption piece.It’s due tonight.” He hated having to lie. It made him feel like a child; but ever since he’d started cheating on his wife he had to lie all the time. It added to the excitement of the sex. When she would call while they were together it made their encounters even more intense. He was embarrassed to admit how much he loved it.
She walked into the bedroom holding her ipad under her arm.
“what the hell is this?”
She turned the screen towards him and showed him his profile – her eyes glossy.
“what?”
He scanned the page looking for the infraction. Something else that was happening to him since the
latest affair- he was easily annoyed, and impatient with her. He knew it was wrong to do that too, but keeping her at bay seemed to be keeping his conscience at bay as well. He didn’t spend as much time as he should thinking about what an asshole he was being.
“why is Betsy M writing ‘I miss you baby’ on your wall, Monty?”
“who the hell is Betsy M anyway?”
“ is this what you’ve been logging on to facebook to do?”
Her voice was raised, high pitched, frantic, feverish.
He was staring straight at her, but not hearing what she’d said. This was another talent he’d developed several years into their marriage. He was thinking about Betsy. She was a "dancer" from the Dominican Republic who he’d met at a bar. There were hundreds of them in Antigua. They came looking for an opportunity. Poor, uneducated, and desperate, they used the only currency they had - sex. It took no effort to get Betsy to sleep with him the first night- only $50.00, but she was so young, so eager to please him, that he returned to her continuously for months.
Betsy was high yellow, 5’6 inches, and 19 years old. She lived in a small house with five family members who Monty had since started to support. He gave her money every Friday, and set her up with a job as a cleaner at his mother’s house. She was his own personal concubine. Most of the men with money on the island had a “Spanish” on the side. It made him feel powerful.
With Betsy he had scratched every sexual fantasy from his list- threesomes, bondage, fetish, public!! He was an inquisitive lover, and she was very compliant. Never said no, never said this hurts, never talked back. He loved it. He definitely did not love her. Unlike most other men, he was not fooled into thinking that he could make Betsy into anything other than what she was. She was his plaything, and disposable if necessary. He’d made sure to tell her that on the few occasions when she’d decided to get a little feisty. He wanted pleasure only. If she tried to make his life unpleasant, or make his wife know, she would be gone.... her entire family with her... to the Dominican Republic.
Not that he had the power to do it, but his wife was as sweet as she was ruthless. She would make sure that Betsy rued the day she ever caused her distress. She was fiercely protective of him and their two children. He saw lots of marriages fall apart, but he knew in his bones that his wife would make sure that theirs did not. She planned family trips with the children, romantic weekends for the two of them, couples retreats with their friends, you name it. She was so thoughtful and kind that he knew he was tempting fate. One day he would run straight outta luck – and into her mean left hook.... but she would have to catch him first. One day he would have to be the partner she expected him to be. She was as smart as a MENSA, that woman, he wondered how he was able to fool her about anything at all.
She was a good woman- which was why he married her. She had given him two children in the past
five years, and had not let herself go, like most other women seemed to do. But she was 37. She wasn’t concerned with sex the way she was when they’d first met, and while she seemed to be winding down, he was just getting started. He remembered when the Tiger Woods scandal had broken how all her friends had come over for their usual Sunday cook fests and he had walked in on them berating Woods for his indiscretions.
She’d said “ men cheat because they can, and because there is always a woman around willing to do it. There is no honour among women!!!”
The hens with her clucked in agreement, and he laughed in his head as he grabbed a Vitamin Water
from the fridge. He’d slept with her friend Denise while she was pregnant with their son Aidan. Denise had been a huge help to them both at that time. Now she sat at the table, pearl earrings in her ears, glass of wine in hand, nodding empathetically at his wife. She was a bitch! And when he walked past, he couldn’t stop himself from lightly grazing her behind.
“now, now ladies, all men do not cheat.”
“yeah, I know! Men in prison and men who are in hospital beds are the exception”
He didn’t turn his head to see who made the comment- it was her sister Tameka. She’d disapproved
of him from the beginning, and he’d given up trying to make her like him. He kept encouraging her
husband to cheat on her, but apparently she was an amazing lover, and he wouldn’t even entertain the thought even in jest. Must run in the family since his wife was no slouch in the sheets herself- but his monogamy chip was faulty- and since he turned 40 it had stopped working altogether.
He looked at his wife, staring him dead in the face. She looked even more beautiful when she was angry-if that were even possible. He’d taken enough time and had come up with a lie:
“babe, come on, you know Betsy is Paloma’s granddaughter. She’s only been here for two years. She added me on facebook, and she doesn’t speak English well. She probably meant to type something else. Besides, she’s a child. Why would she miss me?”
He reached for the ipad to pretend to scrutinize it closer. He frowned, and clicked on Betsy’s picture.
She was wearing a low blouse with her breasts pushed up seductively. Her status said “solo mi papi, me gusto”. He was instantly turned on, and excited that he was “acting” the part so well.
“I don’t know why she wrote it baby. But I will log on and unfriend her if it makes you feel any better. This facebook thing can be real problems boy. You gotta learn to trust your man, Mrs H. As a matter of fact, tell you what Im gonna do- I will disable my wall... nobody will get to write any nonsense on it again. That way you won’t be hurt. “
“I never want to make you hurt.” He softened his voice and looked her straight in the eye.
He was confident that he’d handled the issue well. Her response would be the true test.
She grabbed her ipad from his hands.
“I’m not hurt, Mister H..... I’m disgusted.”
She turned and walked out, leaving him staring at her ponytail as she turned the corner.
His wife was so damn hot when she was mad. He was gonna have to punish Betsy for her
troublemaking stunt. It was definitely time to get rid of her. And he had to make things up to his wife- and fast.
Happy wife, happy life, right?
............................................
excerpt from "the Wall" by Toya Turner
Toya Turner,
You officially have my FULL attention now. Yooooooooooooooo, who write dis ya? cause true say me na see the name of the author .........hmmm? Try sign your name next him hmphh
This story kept my interest from beginning to end. You know wha me ask you now "a whe de rest?" This is like amazing foreplay, soooooooo where is the sex? :(
Posted by: Linisa | August 23, 2011 at 06:04 PM
LOL
The sex will not - I repeat- will not- be on this blog!
HAHA
This is a labour of love- literally.
Hopefully I will be completely done with the project by the end of September- and we'll see where it goes after that.
Thanks for the motivation, Linisa!
Posted by: TOYA | August 24, 2011 at 10:56 AM
Bravo! You Killed It!
Posted by: Jan | August 24, 2011 at 10:57 AM
“I’m not hurt, Mister H..... I’m disgusted.”
Right up there with,
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn"
Such a good read.
Posted by: Tameka | August 25, 2011 at 10:00 PM
I want more! I want more! :)
Posted by: PhoenixLewis | August 26, 2011 at 09:34 PM