Maura walks in on her husband Sidney having sex with his male co-worker, Easy. Maura’s reaction is not quite what you would expect. Though she is shocked and angered at Sidney, she fears a divorce would bring a curse upon her. Her Mother and all but one of her Aunts died after they had divorced their husbands. Another twist in this lite literary romantic erotic story, is Maura’s attraction to Easy. The scene between him and Sidney awakens deeply buried passions in Maura.
A major theme is change and embracing a new life. Maura sees in the affair a chance to live a sexually uninhibited life. Sidney wants to turn the misfortune of getting caught into a chance to live true to himself. Easy envisions a life of bling--sex, cars, clothes, and money when he gives in to Maura’s pleading and coaxes Sidney into staying married to Maura. But this “new life” is not without scandal and jealousy
On a trip to Las Vegas to escape a scandalous event, Maura, Sidney, and Easy meet a threesome from France. It’s hot steamy sex of boy-girl, boy-boy, and girl-girl. During a drunken night of fun, Jacques (a member of the French ménage-a-trois) suggests that Maura marry Easy as kind of a joke. She agrees after all “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” The two French girls marry each other. But the ugliness of that trip did not stay in Vegas. Maura finds herself pregnant with twins and facing bigamy charges. Their life of affluence disintegrates and the residue from the previous scandal causes Maura to lose both men.
Maura and Her Two Husbands
The Beginning of Easy
Maura reached to put her key in the lock, but a sliver of light coming through the front door stopped her. She turned and looked at Sidney’s BMW parked next to her Audi A8. “I’ve told that man a million times to lock this door,” Maura said to herself as she pushed the door open. Sidney’s briefcase sat where he normally parked it on the bottom of the stairs. Maura didn’t know why her husband had that habit. She had nearly broken her neck tripping over the thing the night they moved into their three-story condo. She learned to avoid that side of the stairs. She threw her briefcase on the couch. Maura started to call out to Sidney, but changed her mind. He was probably playing WarCraft or some silly game on the computer anyway and wouldn’t answer her. She went to the kitchen for a drink of water, paying scant attention to the half full glass sitting on the counter. As the water from the refrigerator splattered into her glass, she thought she heard someone moan. Maura cocked her head and pulled her glass away from the spigot. The refrigerator hissed, gurgled, and dropped an ice cube in its bin. Maura sighed and continued filling her glass. “This is what he gets for picking out a fridge without me,” Maura thought. “This thing isn’t a year old and already dying.” She opened the door to check the ice making mechanism, but closed it right back. “Sidney’s problem.” She took a sip of water and glanced at the mail lying on the kitchen table. She was about to reach for it, when she heard what sounded like someone crying. She turned and looked at the silent refrigerator then at the iPod clock radio on the counter. The little green light was off. She looked up toward the direction of their bedroom upstairs. Maura stood at the base of the stairs and pondered. By now she had heard four long gasps and someone groaning. She looked at her watch. It was only four. Sidney always went into work early to read over the computer generated reports of BGX’s refinery’s activities during the night. He would prepare his analysis for his boss to present to the CEO. Sidney wasn’t quite the corporate wonk she was and believed an eight-hour day was enough. So he was always home early unless he went to the gym. She always stayed late at her job. Maura was one of the herd of CPA’s employed by ENCO Oil. Perhaps, she should have told Sidney, she was getting off early. But why? She had no reason to warn her husband what time she was getting off work. Her coming home early should be a pleasant surprise or no surprise at all. Maura stared toward their bedroom. Perhaps Sidney was taking care of some of that man business, she thought. Maura had peeped at Sidney one time through the bathroom door, in the wee hours of the night when she was supposed to be asleep. He was jacking off into the toilet. He reminded her of a man shooting dice. His eyes were closed--lips trembling as in prayer, like a man about to bet all he had on the craps table. She remembered being thankful he was taking care of his nonsense himself. Instead of calling Sidney’s name, Maura decided to go upstairs. She got halfway and an unfamiliar voice stopped her. She looked over her shoulders as if the voice might have come from an intruder following her. But the voice was clearly not behind her. The voice called someone a bitch and a hand slapped against flesh. More sighs and moans flowed down the stairs right to where Maura stood by a picture of butterflies. She tried to identify the voice. It was much deeper than Sidney’s. Guttural was the word for it. The voice might have been attached to a street corner in Baltimore her hometown or Houston’s Fifth Ward her she had grown up after her Mother died. The tenor note sigh belonged to Sidney, her Harlem born mama’s boy husband of three years. Maura tried to sort things out in her head. She wondered if she was dreaming. By now she was standing by the Montage of Bees Buzzing Through Sunflowers. This was Sidney’s favorite painting. The splash of yellows burst from the surrounding white walls. Maura stood on the third step from the top landing. She could tell by the way the hall floor was darkened on one side and the sliver of white light hitting the wall, that their bedroom door was semi-opened. Sidney had a bad habit of never pulling doors all the way shut. Perhaps he was in the spare room used as an office/computer room and was watching porn. Maura knew Sidney watched porn sometimes. She knew this by the way he would quickly shut down the screen when she walked in the room. But her eyes were quick and she always caught a glimpse of someone’s ass or a mouth wrapped around a cock. She didn’t care enough to go through the computer trying to dig out the sites he had visited. Porn was something men did. ENCO oil had fired a few for having porn on their workstation computers. Maura started to turn around and let Sidney have his moment with himself. But she thought about the glass on the counter. Sidney never left anything lying on the counter. He always put a dish either in the cupboard or the dishwasher. They always had little fights over her habit of leaving her coffee cup in the sink. She took a few more steps toward the voices. Maura stood at the doorway to her and Sidney’s bedroom. Moans and long sighs sang in her ears and settled in her chest. Her breathing slowed. For some odd reason she didn’t feel the need to rush through their bedroom door. She might have armed herself with the elongated African Fertility Sculpture, the one with jutting breasts and moon face, sitting on a pedestal just outside the bedroom door, and gone crashing in with a sense of murderous urgency. Other women would have done so, but not Maura. In fact she never felt anything urgent toward Sidney. Everything seemed so matter-of-fact. Their meeting at the Freshmen Accountants Conference--both of them blue-suited with clean caramel colored skin that black folks called “high yellow,” seemed so meant to be. They were just a shade darker than the sea of young white faces that surrounded them. “You two spell success,” Her conference mentor whispered quietly in Maura’s ear as she nodded toward tall thin Sidney standing among his white peers. Maura agreed. Their courtship had little of the ups and downs of passion that plagued most couples. Their biggest disagreement was over what to watch on television. They solved that easily by having two TV’s for their separate apartments and using headphones. They could then nuzzle on the couch while one TV played Scandal and the other was tuned to CNN Business. She had been grateful Sidney didn’t “paw” all over her, as did the boyfriends of most of her girlfriends. She had tried sleeping in bra and panties at his place once before they got married. However Sidney didn’t seem to pay much attention and she felt so uncomfortable, she asked for a pair of his gym shorts. Their wedding night was the first time they had seen each other naked. She had a sense Sidney only allowed this bit of familiarity because it was something he was supposed to do. She didn’t get all of that wedding night whoop-to-do. They kissed and she felt his tongue for a minute. He touched her breasts but jerked his hand away when he felt her nipples as if something had burned him. He rolled her over on her stomach and rubbed her back and her ass. On her ass, that’s where his hand had lingered, kneading and slapping ever so lightly. She turned over. He turned off the light and got on top of her. He was done in a few minutes. Maura assumed she loved her husband. She liked that Sidney filled up the space around her and opened hard to open jars and carried the heavier bags of groceries. They were both accountants in Oil and Gas. He liked her spaghetti and called her “honey.” They did their sex thing on Friday nights before Sidney started his WarCraft marathon. That was enough husband for Maura. That’s why there was no sense of urgency for Maura to push open the door that was already cracked and get a better view of the two bodies in motion on the bed. Maura had never considered that another woman could or would enter their lives. He didn’t look at other women when they were out. But he did watch porn. It was only at that moment standing at their bedroom door, did Maura connect her husband’s porn watching to the possibility of him having an affair right in their bedroom. In their bedroom! Now that thought angered Maura the most and made her push open the door enough to stick her head and shoulders in like a cat peering into a box. The first thing Maura saw were Sidney’s feet in the air as if he was swinging high on a playground swing. She noted how clean and pink his soles looked--like a child’s feet. She followed the foot past the ankle, down the tan leg, to the knee shaped like a red potato. Her eyes suddenly shifted to the mirror above the dresser. She could not look directly at the ass undulating between her husband’s knees. It seemed as rude to stare directly into the pulsating gash of a hole as much as it was rude for it to be all in her face. She had to turn away and watch the scene in the mirror. The man’s ass was black. His voice filled the room with guttural utterances of “Bitch” as Sidney cooed and whined underneath him. Maura glanced at the space between the bed and the dresser. It was littered with a pair of Khaki pants, a dark blue button-down polo shirt and black thick-soled work shoes. A pair of red striped boxers hung over the bed’s footboard. Sidney’s suit lay across the chair with his tie thrown across his coat like a red exclamation mark. One wingtip shoe lay on its side underneath the chair. His dark socks and white boxers lay in heap next to the other shoe near the bed. All of this messiness was so unlike Sidney, Maura thought to herself. “Yeah, nigga, fuck that ass.” Sidney’s crude remark brought Maura’s eyes back to the bed. She watched the man thrust deeper. His balls like a sack of pecans, bounced against Sidney’s ass while his penis seemed to be splitting it in half. She wondered what Sidney’s penis was doing in all of this mess. Suddenly she couldn’t remember the shape of his penis or how big it was. Maura remembered the illustrated drawings from her Human Sexuality 301 class. She had taken HS301 as an easy elective and found it boring but an easy A-minus. It would have been an A, but Maura had not completed the “fun” assignment of bringing pictures of penises into class. The professor had asked the class to bring in photos of the opposite sex’s genitals. It was supposed to be a fun way to explore the structure of the penis and vagina. Some girls brought in pictures of their boyfriend’s penises. Maura couldn’t even bring herself to cut them out of the old ‘70’s Playgirl Magazine a classmate had given her. To keep from getting a B in the class, which would have brought her grade point average from a 4.0 to a 3.98, Maura asked the professor if she could write a paper for extra credit. She turned in a twenty-page paper on the mating instincts of wasps. The raw naked sex organs repelled Maura, but she could not stop looking. Her Grandmother was old-fashioned had taught her and her sisters that good church girls didn’t look at pictures of naked people and only did what was the most necessary things to their intimate body parts and do them quickly. But here they were in her face, the man’s balls like soft black plums slamming against Sidney’s red ass and she couldn’t look away. The man’s ass cheeks flaring open from time to time winking at her like some kind of ugly one-eyed Cyclops should have sent her running to the bathroom to vomit, like that pair of copulating dogs did once when she was a child, but Maura stood as still as a statue in a park. The man’s cock slipped out of Sidney and Maura saw it wet, curved, and black as a rotten banana before it plunged back into Sidney. Maura took in other details about the man fucking her husband. She saw the angel wings tattoo spread across his broad muscular shoulders when he raised himself up. But Maura didn’t think of angels. She knew from pictures she had seen in her Grandmother’s bible that the devil too had wings that spread darkness all over the earth. That darkness was now hovering over her. For a second she thought she would faint in that darkness. Then suddenly a warmth washed all over her body and she tingled between her legs and the back of her knees. She blinked her eyes. She noticed the Chinese lettering zigzagged around his forearms making them look like they were wrapped in razor wire. His head matched the perfect pattern of rows of corn. Maura’s felt in her a strong desire to run her fingers through those rows endlessly. Maura ducked her head out of the door when the two men shifted their bodies. She quietly pulled the door to its original slightly ajar position and stood outside in the hall listening to the guttural grunts, Sidney’s cooing, and the air pumping sounds of the thrusting penis. When the room quieted, she started to push open the door, but changed her mind when the bed began squeaking again. She tipped down the stairs and stood in the middle of their living room as if she was a guest waiting to be offered a seat.