Peter Jenkins - The reluctant neighbor

"Come to a party this week-end?" He asked quietly into her ear after the gasps of his orgasm had subsided.

"Fred will be out of town," she answered, just as contentedly as he had asked.

"Good. Then I'll have you all to myself. Just us." He put his hand on her breast and took her nipple between his thumb and index finger.

"What about your wife?" She asked hesitantly, her hand stroking his neck.

"She'll be there. But, don't worry about her. She's quite popular herself. She wanted Fred to be there, too, though."

"What?" Marily demanded, raising her head slightly. "Vivian knows Fred?"

"No, I don't think so. She's seen him though and wanted me to invite the two of you. She likes him."

"I don't understand," she stammered, "You mean that she… wants Fred?" Marily was confused. She had never thought about another woman lusting after Fred. It seemed impossible to her. Considering what a man Peter was and the fact that he was Vivian's husband made it absolutely ridiculous. She couldn't hold back a slight giggle at the thought.

"What are you laughing about?" Peter asked, studying her closely.

"Why, that's ludicrous. Really. I just can't imagine Fred doing anything like this…"

"Fucking?" Peter supplied the word.

"… Fucking with her. Or anyone, really. It's funny."

"Doesn't he fuck you?" Peter asked bluntly.

"Well… yes." Marily felt strange talking to him about she and Fred. "But not like this. I mean… well, differently."

"I didn't know there was any other way," Peter laughed and put his hand on the side of her soft white breast.

"He does it to me this way… but, well, not with the same feeling. He's very different than you, Peter. Much more conservative, I guess. He's quiet." She was unable to describe her husband, did not want to put it into words that sounded like betrayal to her, of just how and when they had sex relations.

"Do you love him, Marily?" Peter asked.

"Of course I do. Certainly." She answered, as much for her own benefit as for his.

"But he doesn't make you happy in bed." He put his hand over her mouth, and then continued. "Marily, you've been married two years and you have a bedroom with two beds in it. Now. I know that you must use one and he the other. Right?"

She moved her head up and down to indicate that he was right. "That doesn't take much figuring, baby. You're turned on to sex so apparently he isn't. But, we'll all work together and we'll fix everything up. You'll have to join the neighborhood club." He finished speaking, got off the bed and began dressing. He left without telling her anymore.

p(line).***

Later, she could have kicked herself for not asking Peter what he had meant by the neighborhood club, but she hadn't. She worried about it, thought about it, but couldn't think of anyway to contact him to find out. He hadn't told her that he would see her the next day or when he would tell her more about the party that she had decided to attend. She called herself a fool and let other worries take control of her mind.

She managed to find a safe hiding place for the gin and vermouth she had purchased for her and Peter before Fred arrived home, on the exact minute of the very hour that he had made it the day before and the day before that. She had washed the glasses they had used, made the bed, put the dressing table back into position, and sprayed all the rooms with Lysol spray, taking no chances on Fred smelling the faintest whiff of gin or cigarette smoke. She hadn't been able to bring herself to ask Peter not to smoke in her house. That would have taken too much explanation.

"Hello, darling," Fred said, walking through the door. He removed his hat, then sat his briefcase carefully on the floor. Marily went to him, stood on tip-toe and kissed him on the lips, slightly and momentarily. Nevertheless, it seemed to shake him up. He looked at her strangely, then walked past her to the bedroom. She could hear him making noises as he put his clothes away, carefully as always, and heard him grunt with pleasure to find his clothes for changing into where he expected them to be, but where they had not been yesterday. When he returned to the living room and sat in his chair and reached for the paper, Marily had his vegetable juice ready and announced proudly that dinner would be on time tonight, as usual.

"Good," he sighed, happy that his home had returned to normal. He rattled the paper.

Across the table from her, over the bowl of spinach souffle, the boiled Swiss chard and the tiny boiled onions, above the stone ground black bread and ginger root, Fred pronounced her name. "Marily, I have a surprise for you. You may go with me to Chicago if you wish. I think we can manage it."

Marily was startled. She wondered immediately it he had suspected something, had seen something in the house that she had failed to arrange before he got home that told him a man had been there. She looked at him, amazed, and couldn't answer what had almost amounted to a question on his part.

He didn't wait for her to answer, however, but continued, saying, "We could take the money out of the savings and you could get a small job that you could do in the house, while I'm away in the daytime, and put it back. I really don't want you to stay here alone, anyway. Particularly if you don't want to." He smiled at her.

"Oh, Fred, that wasn't me talking this morning, really. I don't mind staying here alone. After all, it's your job and I guess I was just a little jealous and you'll be working all the time and… no, no, I'd really just prefer to stay here." She knew that her face was red and wished to hell that it wasn't, hoped that he would not suspect her of anything. Now she wanted to go to the party that Peter had mentioned, though none of it would have happened if Fred had offered to take her yesterday, she had no intention of anything interfering with that wish.

Fred was easily put off. "I think that is the wisest choice, Marily. I mean we agreed never to touch our savings and all, but I worried about you all day and thought that I might be being a little selfish." Then I had that idea. "But, if you think it'll be all right maybe we should just leave it as it stands and I'll only be gone four days anyway."

"It's much better that way, Fred. Much. I'll be all right. Really. Maybe there'll be a party in the neighborhood or something one night." She stopped herself, afraid it might raise his suspicions.

"That would be nice. Darling, did you get my clothes packed today?" He asked, peering across the table at her.

"No, Fred, I didn't. You're not leaving until Friday morning and they'll be ready. Don't worry about it." She did not speak again during the meal, nor did he.

Marily drove Fred to the office Friday morning. As she was pulling into the drive way, having deposited Fred at his office, Peter came out of his house and stood and smiled at her. He walked across the lawn, jumped over the small hedge, and yanked open the door on the passenger side of the car. "Hello beautiful," he said, flashing her a cocky, winning smile.

"Not so loud, people will hear you," Marily said, trying not to smile back at him, not wanting her desire of him to show through her exterior.

"One always always speaks to be heard by somebody. Right? Look, the party starts tonight at eight. Why don't you come over to dinner with Vivian and me? You don't want to eat alone, do you?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing at first. Did he really expect her to sit at the same table with his wife and eat and be aware of her and the food she had cooked and try to carry on a conversation after what had happened between her and Peter? She thought that he must surely be joking. "You're kidding?"

"Not at all. Vivian will see you today about it. I gotta run. Must be in court at ten. Bye love," he said, slamming her car door and moving toward his own garage. She wanted desperately to call him back and talk to him, get a couple of answers, but she couldn't. What neighbor might be listening, watching her? She drove the car into the garage and got out as quickly as possible and went into the safety of her home. She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast table to drink it. The telephone rang. She almost jumped out of her skin, spilling the coffee in the process. She picked up the instrument and said, dully, "Hello."