A Scorned Woman Goes to D.C.

George Gekino stared into the oblivion that had become his life. He wasn’t dead. Short of some Sixth Sense weird twist, he was fairly certain of that. But he hardly felt alive.

The last time George had sex, it was so bad, he couldn’t believe it. When he was young and would climax, his orgasm would always be like oh my God, this is heaven. This last time, it was more like oh my god, what a waste of the last 45 minutes and exactly why I am risking your husband shooting me.

Claire was nice enough, but sex with her had lost whatever had once made it special. When they used to meet at the Waffle House, just the smell of her perfume would make his cock move a little to the right. And when she would laugh at his Pollock jokes, it would make him a little moist down there. But now it was like her husband was sitting right there with them and he didn’t really give a flying swim in the desert what they did. Not even the sneaking around seemed a turn on anymore.

George Gekino couldn’t believe what he now found himself considering. He felt so guilty. What a shit head he was about to become. He was about to cheat on his married girlfriend. So as he walked into the bar he felt guilty and he felt nervous. But worse. What he was hoping for was still missing. He felt no great turn on.

Then!

He spied across the room a woman he once knew in the
Biblical Sense as a teenager. And by Biblical Sense, I mean her father tried to smite him with the long arm of God, as well as the long arm of the law, when he caught them naked and about to have sex out behind the Church Manger on Christmas Eve.

Maudy McCallah was one hell of a girl back when she and he went to church together as teenagers. Her sultry voice was like a wet tongue to the g-spot behind the earlobe. And every time they walked in to church together he was dang proud to have the braless Maudy on his arm. They would always enter the church slightly late. That was partly by plan and also partly from the delay caused by their necking back behind the neighboring, abandoned grist mill. Still, no matter how hot and sweaty things might have become at the grist mill, they would still manage to enter the church picture perfect without hair or clothing out of place. Heads would turn to watch them strut down the aisle to their seats. Maudy had such a prissy strut, wearing her sinfully red high heel shoes. Some heads would seem to nod with each bounce of Maudy’s walk. George would always carry his bible down in front of his crotch as though he were trying to hide a hard-on. Many times, he was.

Their entry would make Preacher McDuck so f*cking mad. Then McDuck’s wife explained to him that since George and Maudy had been coming to church, attendance had been on a steady rise. At that point Preacher McDuck began announcing Maudy’s arrival as though he were announcing a fashion show, detailing her attire to the congregation. Maudy never wore the same clothes twice. Only her sinfully red high heel shoes remained part of her attire from one Sunday to the next. Because Maudy made the point that it didn’t matter whether what you wore was new or old, it only mattered if it was made different by the person wearing it, sales at the church thrift store increased dramatically.

George marveled as he stared at Maudy across the room. She remained as beautiful as the day he first laid eyes on her.

Sheepishly, George walked up to Maudy. He leaned down to give her a shy kiss on the cheek. And she looked as he raised up from her and she stared into his deep blue eyes. She giggled. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it is you.”

Maudy looked over at her girlfriend Beth and screamed, “This is George.”

Beth screamed in drunken laughter. “Oh my God. You don’t mean behind the Manger George.”

“F*cking yeah. You should have seen us back then. The way we would go to church. I guar-an-damn-tee we were the envy of most people in that congregation.”

George laughed as he sat down next to Maudy. “You are still so beautiful.”

“So how is your wife.”

“Well, her husband hasn’t caught us yet.”

“You are so bad. So, you aren’t married?”

“Nah. What about you?”

Maudy winked. “You ruined me for other guys.”

At that point, George realized that he was going to marry Maudy. He was tired of all the foolishness. He was ready to settle down and Maudy, the girl he first fancied himself in love with, was the woman he would marry.

George and Maudy dated for about two weeks and then he realized it was time to break-up with Claire. He had told Maudy all about Claire and that he had every intention of breaking up with Claire.

Before George called, Claire had received another telephone call from her son. He had just lost his job due to the sub-prime crisis. He was losing his home. His wife was leaving him. His best friend had just been carjacked and murdered by an illegal alien. Another friend was sitting in jail because of pot possession. Claire’s son was in a mess and there was nothing she could say or do to help him. Her son’s world was imploding and there was nothing she could do to help him.

No sooner had Claire hung up with her son than George called. Maybe it was something in the tone of his voice when he talked to Claire on the telephone. Perhaps it was because she had already heard through the grapevine that George had begun to date someone else. But Claire suspected when she hung the phone up that George was intending to break up with her. After Claire hung up, she sat for about an hour and stared off into space. She considered that sex with George was no longer as satisfying as it once had been. There was a part of her that was glad that they might be breaking up. But there was another part of her that considered her revolver in the desk drawer. Then there was another part of her that considered the vibrator in her nightstand drawer. Then there was another part of her that imagined turning her last pack of condoms into balloon animals. Then there was another part of her that imagined seducing her husband’s boss into giving her son a job.

Claire stood up. All her parts seemed to be working. She looked at the desk. She looked at the nightstand. She looked at the picture of her husband’s boss laying on the floor. She wondered what the f*ck the picture of her husband’s boss was doing there. A fleeting thought crossed her mind and she wondered if her husband and his boss were gay lovers. The thought of her cold, cruel, sanctimonious husband down on all fours getting f*cked doggy style gave her a momentary chuckle but then she wanted to cry.

Claire went to the desk. Staring into the oblivion that had become her life, she removed her revolver from the desk drawer. She wasn’t sure what she planned to do. She wasn’t sure who she hated more or even if she hated anyone.

The last time Claire and George had sex, it was not good sex. But still she thought about George’s warm smile. His easy humor always had made her feel. Just able to feel something, that was something. And the last time she and George were together, she had cuddled with him through the night. She never cuddled with her husband. He didn’t like cuddling. How could she live without being cuddled? Claire didn’t know.

Claire stared at the revolver. She pointed the revolver to her temple. Then she laughed. She put the revolver into her purse. “My epitaph will not read that I could not live without being cuddled.”

Claire left her house and drove to a nightclub. Inside, she nervously walked over and sat at the bar. Two young men stood behind her talking.

“Can you believe that dude who killed all those people at the Mall? Why would someone do something like that?”

“But you know. There had to be signs. That dude needed help. Why didn’t someone try to help him before he went crazy?”

Claire turned to look at the young men. She smiled.

One of the young men said, “Sorry ma’am. We’re not into older women.”

Claire stood. She put her hand into her purse. “No. I was listening to your conversation. You amuse me, but that is all.” She pulled her hand back from inside her purse.

One of the young men asked, “If you had a son like that. Don’t you think you could have stopped him. Shouldn‘t the mother have been able to save him from his nervous breakdown?”

“If he were my son, I would have given him a bus ticket to D.C. where he might could have done some f*cking good.”

Then Claire walked away. She guessed she would go and meet with George at the motel as he had asked. Then she changed her mind. She took her cell phone and called him. “George. I know you are planning on breaking up with me. That is okay. We don’t have to break up in person.”

“Claire. I am so sorry.”

“No reason to be. It is time we both move on. I think I am going to travel.”

“You planning on going to Europe? I know you used to talk about going to Europe.”

“No. My first stop is going to be D.C.”