Janet McCoy: Wife on the loose

But it was not the first time. Far from it.

And Tom wondered why she was horny all the time!

Already, sated with his orgasm, Tom was turning his back to her, ready to fall asleep.

Something inside Heather snapped.

"Well, I'm glad somebody around here is going to get some sleep tonight!"

Tom tried to ignore her harsh tone. "Just relax, honey. Think about something nice. You'll fall asleep in no time. Honest!"

Something inside Tom recognized what he had done to his wife, brought her up to a peak of arousal and left her hanging. But he tried to ignore it. He had to ignore it, for his own self-respect, his own peace of mind.

"Good night, honey," he murmured as he snuggled comfortably against his pillow.

"Tom!" She couldn't let him just ignore her like this. She was mad!

Suddenly she had more response from her husband than she had reckoned on. He sat up abruptly and turned to face her.

"Listen, Heather! Get off my Goddamned back, will you? Can I help it if I'm married to a nympho? Jesus Christ! What's a guy supposed to do?"

After he had spoken his piece, he resumed his sleeping position. But he was wide awake now. And miserable.

"Nympho!?" she screamed. "Who's a nympho? I'm just a normal woman with a normal sex drive. And you're not satisfying it!"

There was silence in the room.

Heather was shocked by the brutal reality of her own words. It seemed an awful thing to do, to take a swipe at her husband's manhood like that.

But what about her? She had needs, too!

But still, she was a little ashamed of herself. And like many people who are ashamed of themselves, she tried to cover up by defending her position more energetically than ever.

"You're turning me into a shrew, Tom!"

Silence.

"Well… maybe there'll be somebody interesting at the Whitcombs' party tomorrow night. Somebody to take my mind off my troubles."

There was nothing more said in the bedroom that night, though both husband and wife lay awake for hours.

The Whitcombs' party was already in full swing when Tom and Heather arrived.

Linda and Jake Whitcomb were Heather and Tom's next-door neighbors and best friends. They would have been very hurt if Heather and Tom had not shown up at the party.

Otherwise, the younger couple would never have come. They were not in a party mood. They hadn't even spoken to each other all day.

Heather hadn't meant what she said the night before about looking for someone at the party to take her mind off her troubles. She had always been a faithful wife, had never even dreamed about looking for sex with other men.

But despite herself, this evening Heather was enjoying the usual fawning attention she got from men at parties. The pretty redhead was a good dresser. She looked stunning in a low-cut black sheath dress and black heels. She wore bright-red lipstick and nail polish that finished off her appearance, made her look like a high-fashion model or a movie star. While one man lit her cigarette, another fetched her a drink. Another lavished her with compliments.

For a long time, she paid no attention to her husband who was sitting in a corner quietly getting drunk. This was one time Tom was not enjoying the attentions other men paid to his wife. As he downed, one Scotch after another, though, the world looked gradually rosier, until he was feeling on top of the world. Until he decided to share his good feelings with the gathering.

"Hey, everybody…" he called out in a drunken slur. "Whatta ya say we put some life in this here party!"

He climbed up on the coffee table and took off his suit jacket, while he struggled to perform some kind of hip-grinding dance. He wasn't far into the routine when the force of his weight collapsed the coffee table. Tom was catapulted forward. He slammed into the bar, upsetting several glasses and a couple of liquor bottles.

Heather was horror-stuck by her husband's performance. She had had no idea he was that drunk. She had never seen him act like this before, in all the five years of their marriage.

She rushed to his side and helped him to his feet. She guided him to a chair and pushed him down into it. He sat sullenly, not looking at her.

"They don't make anything like they used to," he muttered.

Blushing with embarrassment, Heather bent down to help her hostess pick up the shattered glass and mop up the spilled liquor. "Linda, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into Tom. He's not himself tonight."

Linda, a pretty blonde in her early thirties, smiled reassuringly at her friend. "Don't worry, honey. We all have our off days." She grimaced, "It's just my bad luck that Tom had to have his at my party."

Heather looked on the verge of tears. The older woman reached over and tilted her chin up. Her blue eyes looked frankly into Heather's green ones.

"Look, honey. I'm not going to pretend I'm not pissed off, because I am. But it's not your fault, so don't worry. I'm sure I'll feel better as soon as we get this mess cleaned up."

When the damage was swept away, Heather gathered up her coat and Tom's jacket and prepared to leave. Linda tried to talk her into staying.

"Don't go yet, honey. You were having a good time, Tom's just going to fall asleep. Why don't you let him do it here, while you enjoy yourself." They looked over at Heather's husband who was dozing in his chair.

"No… no, I couldn't stay now, Linda." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Things aren't very good between Tom and me right now. We shouldn't have come and spoiled your good time. Come on, Tom. We're going now."

She tried to pull him to his feet. He was a dead weight. He was awake now, but he wasn't looking at Heather.

"Tom… come on, honey. We're going home now." She turned his arm harder. He pulled abruptly away.

"What'sha think you're doing to me, bitch? I know what'sha want. Ya wanna get me home so you can try'ta fuck me again, don't sha? Well, I won't do it! Why don'sha get one of your pretty boys to do yer stud service for a while?"

The redhead was mortified. She stood helplessly in front of her husband, her head hanging, her eyes filling with tears. Linda put an arm around her shoulder.

"Don't pay any attention, honey. It's just drunk talk."

Heather snuck a glance at the other guests. They had stopped staring now. Obviously they were trying to give her a little privacy. She was grateful.

"I wish that's all it was!" she said, looking hopelessly at her friend.

Jake came over and joined them. He was a big man, and it took little effort for him to haul Tom to his feet. "I'll take him home for you, Heather. I don't think he could make it on his own two feet."

Heather smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Jake." She waved at the guests from the doorway. "I'll be seeing you, Linda."

The blonde took both her friend's hands. "I want you to come over for breakfast Monday morning. We can have a good long talk when we've got the men out of our hair."

The younger woman squeezed Linda's hands. "Okay. See you Monday." She hurried after Jake and her stumbling husband. The big man took Tom all the way up to the bedroom and stretched him out on the bed.

"Anything else I can do for you, Heather?"

"No thanks, Jake. You've been a big help. Thanks a million. I'm sorry we spoiled your party."

Jake grinned at her. He was a handsome man, with steely gray just starting around his temples. "What do you mean 'we'? Let Tom take responsibility for his own fuck-ups. You were the hit of the party. There wasn't a man there who wasn't sorry to see you go."

She smiled ruefully. "Thanks, Jake. I needed the ego boost."

He reached out and gave her shoulder a brotherly squeeze. "See you later, beautiful."

"See you, Jake."

When her neighbor was gone, Heather stared ruefully at her husband who was snoring peacefully on the bed. He had passed out the minute Jake laid him down.