The dogs had positioned themselves on the floor in front of the two women, staring and willing something to fall that they could fight over.
“Are you going to tell me why you were crying?”
Vivian waved a hand in dismissal. “Really, nothing. Michael and I had a fight.”
“Oh.” Jewel looked wistfully away, twirling a strand of blonde hair while she ate.
Vivian could tell from the faraway look in her eyes what she was thinking, and wondered once again if Michael was having an affair. What a thrill it must be to get away with it right under the wife’s nose.
Don’t say it, Vivian thought. But of course Jewel said it anyway.
“I wish I had a man like Michael. It’s lonely having as much money as I have. Too many of the men I’m interested in just want to use me.”
For a moment Vivian was stabbed with jealousy so sharp she thought it was the muffin disagreeing with her. Thinking about how much happier Michael would be with this 21-year-old smart, pretty nymphette. Someone who no doubt would come like a rocket when he looked at her, let alone touched her. Someone who didn’t need to be taken care of in the pathetic way Vivian did.
“Why don’t you find a man with some money?”
Jewel shrugged and slid her knife into the butter, spreading it evenly over the remaining muffin half. “They’re too busy. Michael seems so devoted. That’s hard to find now.”
A dryer buzzed and the three dogs jerked their little heads toward the laundry room in unison.
“Oh shit! I’m going to be late for class.” She jumped up and put her plate in the sink, then disappeared into the next room.
Vivian didn’t bother asking why Jewel didn’t have a maid. She knew why. It was the same reason she and Michael didn’t. Maids were nosy.
Jewel returned, untying the bikini in a rush. Perfect, pert breasts bounced out like they’d been waiting all day to be taken for a walk. Vivian looked back at her plate and tried not to make mental comparisons while her neighbor finished dressing.
“I’m sorry to run out like this. I’ve just got this stupid ten am physics class, and if I’m late the bitch will lock the door on me. She seems to think I belong in fashion design or pottery. I’m pulling a high B in there. Doesn’t matter to her.” She slid the jeans on like fancy wrapping for candy every male on campus––and Michael––probably wanted to taste.
“It’s okay. I’ve got errands.”
“Take some muffins if you want,” Jewel said, running a brush through her hair.
Vivian filled a couple of Ziplock bags and left through the back door.
When Michael arrived home, she was curled in a chair, reading a women’s magazine that had arrived with the mail.
“What’s for dinner?”
“I’m ordering take-out.”
He sighed. “Vivian, you’re home all day . . . ”
She slammed the magazine shut with a crisp snap of pages and tossed it onto the coffee table. “And what, Michael? Are we poor? Is there some reason we need to be watching the money suddenly?”
“I just like it when you cook.”
She rolled her eyes. “Was there a veiled compliment in there?”
“You know I’ve always liked your cooking.” His voice turned softer as if begging her not to start another fight.
“And you know I never cook on manicure day.”
Vivian watched his lips draw together in a disgusted line. She could practically see the cogs in his head turning, linking manicure day with one of her famous no-sex excuses, on par with the classic headache line.
He finally made a noncommittal grunt and retreated into the kitchen. A moment later he was back. “And, there’s not even any coffee made.”
“I’m not your slave. I don’t know why you think my life revolves around serving you. It doesn’t.”
“Well, what does it revolve around, Vivi? Enlighten me. I’d really like to know. From what I can tell you don’t do anything useful during your day at all. The least you could do is see to the house and cooking.”
“That’s all I’m worth to you, isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be much less drama for you to hire a maid and get a whore? You’ve got the money for it. Or would your conscience destroy the enjoyment of that since you’d be leaving me off on some corner somewhere? Or maybe you’d resent the alimony.”#p#分页标题#e#
Michael’s eyes flashed dangerously, and for one tense moment she thought pain was coming. He’d never raised a hand to her before. And yet, the thought was there, behind the surface. She could see it shining in his eyes.
He angrily reached inside his jacket pocket and retrieved a lavender card on linen paper. He thrust the rectangle at her. “Here.”
“What is this?”
“It’s a business card for a therapist.”
“You think I’m crazy?”
“I think you’re unhappy. And I know I am.”
“Then why do I need the therapist and not you?”
His face was unreadable, but the anger still simmered beneath the surface. “Tell me, Vivi, what do I do wrong? I give you a life with all the comforts and security you need. I’m attentive. I take you out. All I ask for in return is that the woman I love not be so cold all the time.”
“Do you really love me, Michael? Or do you feel obligated to me?”
He made a sweeping motion with his arm. “See? That, right there. I don’t know where the hell that comes from. That, and whatever sexual hangups you’ve got going on, they need to be dealt with. If not with me, then with someone else because I can’t go on this way.”
Vivian peered closer at the card: Dr. Lindsay Smith, licensed sex therapist.
She crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it across the room. “You have got to be kidding me. This is all about your fucking libido?”
Michael advanced on her, pressing her against the wall. The frenzied look in his eyes made it clear something inside him had ripped apart at the seams to reveal the primal animal underneath. An animal who had no doubt been fighting and bucking in his cage for years.
“Michael, you’re scaring me.”
“Good,” he growled. He held her arms to the wall and looked her over like prey. “You. Are. Going. Are we clear?” His stare alone could have pinned her.
“Michael . . . I . . . ”
“The only acceptable answer here is yes.”
Vivian nodded, too afraid of this new, unrestrained version of her husband to refuse his request. He released her wrists and went into his study, leaving her confused and more aroused than she cared to admit.
TWO
Vivian stared up at the high-rise building, shielding her eyes from the reflective glare of the sun. “Um . . . Miss . . . I don’t have change for this large a bill,” the cab driver said, leaning over the seat toward the open passenger-side window.
“Keep the change,” she said, not taking her eyes off the building.
The driver peeled down the road before she had a chance to change her mind. Vivian took a fortifying breath and went to meet her doom.
As soon as the elevator opened on the tenth floor, soothing jazz drifted to her ears. The music had a hypnotic effect as it wrapped around her and pulled her off the elevator and toward the waiting office. Dr. Smith’s waiting room was filled with house plants. If the world ran out of oxygen, this room would be the last safe haven.
It was empty, something she found odd for a Friday afternoon. Not even a receptionist. She thought Michael said he’d made the appointment for three thirty today. Maybe she got the dates mixed up.
She turned to leave when a deep voice stopped her. “Mrs. Delaney? You’re my three thirty?”
“Yes?” She couldn’t bring herself to turn back around just yet. She’d thought Lindsay Smith was a woman. Apparently not.
“Please, come on back. I apologize there was no one to greet you. My receptionist had a personal emergency.”
Vivian turned and plastered a smile on her face. “Dr. Smith?”
“That’s right.”
The doctor stood at a little over six feet tall in a well-tailored, dark suit and exuded the calm command of a stock broker. He appeared to be in his late fifties with gray at his temples. He was in good shape, what she imagined Michael might look like in twenty years.
He smiled at her and turned to go into the inner office, clearly confident she’d follow.
She considered fleeing the building, but then she thought about the look in Michael’s eyes the previous night, and the moment of terror at seeing a new side of her husband nearly unleashed on her.
When he’d pinned her against the wall like that, with that wildness peering out at her, she’d felt the faintest drop of wetness on her panties. The idea that she could have such an inappropriate reaction, after months of nearly no reaction, scared her more than the thought of him losing control.#p#分页标题#e#
No, she’d stay for the appointment this once. Then she’d reason with Michael. She had to at least appear to be trying to comply with his wishes if she wanted him to listen.
Dr Smith’s office had lavender walls that matched the business cards. Not the first color choice she’d pick for a man, but the furniture and striking oak desk made up for any lacking masculinity in the wallpaper. The inner office had about as many plants as the waiting area. A long wall featured several orchids lined in a fastidious row.