John Lutz - The Ex

David had dozed off and wasn’t sure how long Molly had been gone when a sudden burst of sound-loud voices from the living room-caused him to wake suddenly.

What the hell?

He lay staring at the wall, trying to figure out what was happening. Then he realized the voices were coming from the televlsion.

Silence then. A loud moan.

He propped himself up on his elbows, then sat on the edge of the mattress. Maybe Michael was up, playing with the remote control. They’d warned him about that, but it hadn’t done much good.

David stood up and caught sight of himself in the dresser mirror, a disheveled man in white jockey shorts and under-shirt. He looked and felt vulnerable.

With equal parts of curiosity and trepidation, he crept toward the now silent living room.

The TV was on, all right. He stopped, leaning with a hand against the wall, and focused his bleary eyes on the screen. A man and woman were having sex on a bed. The man, who was on top, was thrusting madly into the woman. He planted his palms on the mattress and raised his upper body, pushing his pelvis harder into the soft saddle of the woman’s crotch and spread thighs. The woman clutched him with her arms, and her upper body rose with his as she clawed at his back.

David felt his insides go numb as he stared in shock. He was looking at himself and Deirdre.

“You’ve improved with age, David. Like fine whiskey.”

Her voice hadn’t come from the TV. He turned and saw her seated in a corner of the sofa with her legs curled beneath her, holding the remote control aimed casually and inaccurately at the TV. She was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and obviously new red and white jogging shoes. The shoes were exactly like Molly’s.

David thought of Michael and an edge of fear knifed through him. “For God’s sake, turn that off! Michael’s in the-”

But Michael wasn’t in the next room. He was toddling into the living room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

David rushed to him and scooped him up, barely managing to cover his eyes before he could see the TV screen. His breath hissing with anger, he carried Michael back to his bedroom, laid him in his bed, and kissed him and soothingly urged him back to sleep.

When he left the bedroom a few minutes later, he carefully closed the door behind him, wishing there were some way to lock it.

How had this happened? he wondered as he returned furious to the living room. Why was she doing this?

He stopped in the middle of the room as he heard Michael begin to cry.

Deirdre stared at him, used the remote to switch off the TV, then nonchalantly stood up and walked over and ejected a cassette from the VCR.

Michael’s muted cries were still coming from the bedroom. Sleepy, urgent wails.

Deirdre seemed not to hear them. “The darndest thing’s happened, David. You know that apartment where we made love? The one that belongs to the man who sells electronics? Well, he must be some kind of a pervert. One of us somehow must have accidentally touched something, and everything we did was recorded on videotape.”

David wasn’t ready yet to try grasping the significance of what she’d said. He glanced nervously toward Michael’s bedroom. “You expect me to believe that?”

She put on a surprised expression. “Of course. It’s not unheard of. He probably tapes himself and the women he brings there. Or maybe even men.”

Michael’s cries became softer and less frequent, then ceased.

Relieved, David said, “Give me the tape, Deirdre.”

“Sure. That’s why I brought it here. I saw Molly leave to go jogging and figured it was a good time.”

She came to him and handed him the cassette. When he accepted it, she kissed him on the lips, clinging to him. He broke her hold and pushed her away, but she seemed to have expected that and stayed close.

“Watching it kind of got me in the mood again,” she said. “You should see it before you destroy it. We’re absolutely terrific together.”

David, not only wide awake now but hyperalert, knew why she’d unhesitatingly given him the tape. He stared at the cassette in his hand, then stared at Deirdre. “My God, there are copies, aren’t there?”

She kissed him again, quickly, while he was still in shock and assimilating what was happening. He didn’t respond. He was too stricken by events even to resist.

She cocked her head to the side and flipped her hair as if she were in a shampoo commercial. “Copies? Well, I don’t know for sure.”

“I do,” he said in a voice that betrayed his resignation.

She moved in and kissed him a third time, smiling up at him. “Michael’s gone back to sleep,” she said, “or he’d be in here again by now.”

His mind was still trying to gain equilibrium, to reassess the future. “Molly told me about the incident with Michael and the cat.”

She gave him another of her nimble, unexpected kisses, this time on the point of his chin. “She certainly made more of it than there was, David.”

“She said you’d been in our bedroom. That you were wearing some of her perfume when she went up to your apartment.”

“Anyone can buy any kind of perfume. She’s imagining things again, David. She’s awfully insecure and she imagines things. I noticed that about her from the beginning, and like I told you, it’s getting worse.”

She moved up against him. He started to back away. Paused and stood still.

“How did you get in here?” he asked. “I mean now, this morning?”

Smiling, she inserted her hand beneath the elastic waistband of his shorts. He felt her fingers twine around his limp penis and begin their slow and expert pulsing motion, somehow in time with his heartbeat. “Oh, I guess I must have found a key someplace.”

He had an erection; he couldn’t prevent it. It wasn’t his fault!

“Or took an impression and had a key made,” he said.

She continued to smile and press her body against his, increasing pressure and backing him toward the bedroom. He was surprised by her strength. She had to have very powerful legs to generate that kind of force.

“No,” he said, with some determination, not loudly enough to disturb Michael. “We’re not going to do this.”

“Of course we are,” she persisted.

“No, we’re not going to do it here! Especially not in our bed!”

She maintained pressure against him, snaking her free arm around his body to reach the plastic cassette he was holding and tapping it with her long red nails. “Aren’t we really?”

“Listen, Deirdre! We have to talk!”

“Shhh, David! We don’t want to wake Michael!”

“Jesus, Deirdre, we can’t do that here!” He was whispering now, pleading. “Not now! Not here!”

They were at the threshold, then past it. He felt Deirdre’s body move against him and heard the door shut and latch. She’d adroitly closed it with her foot.

“Damn it, Deirdre!”

Laughing, she shoved hard against him, forcing him backward faster, gaining momentum until they both fell onto the bed.

The springs squealed loudly under the sudden weight of two people.

They continued to squeal.

When Molly returned from her run, she dropped the fat Times on the sofa, then noticed the remote on the floor. She picked it up and laid it on top of the VCR.

Then she walked to the bedroom door and opened it.

David was still in bed asleep. He must have gotten up during her absence, though probably only to use the bathroom. The window was wide open and the air conditioner next to it was humming away on high, not the work of a man all the way awake.

She looked down at him lying there with the sheet tucked beneath his chin, and she smiled. She was still perspiring from her run but she looked and felt invigorated. Hurriedly, she removed all her clothes except for her jogging shoes, then climbed into bed.