Goody Two Shoes (30 page)

So, I’d allowed them to tie me here.   I’d allowed them to strip me of my clothes and muss my hair, all for the sake of a man who’s probably in the middle of the bartendress at the golf club.  Thus tonight, I’d even agreed that I could be touched, fucked if desired and, forgive me God, I like it.  Without a doubt, I’ve done it as a last ditch effort to save, or rather recreate my marriage.  But I ‘get’ it now, and I know that the hands that are touching me, pinching me, aren’t enemies or even really strangers.  They’re people just like me who woke up one day and decided they couldn’t go on.  That something had to give in their lives.  So they gathered and created this Club, and on very rare occasion, they offer help to Walmart wives like me.  And I’m grateful for the sacrifices the founders had to make to get me to the point where I can enjoy being handcuffed to a pole.  Take a bow.  Yeah you, the entire Tramp Stamp Club!  Applause bellows in my mind.

But that’s enough of my rock bottomless pit of a life, because at this very moment in time not a single person in this room hasn’t made a similar choice, and this isn’t the time or place for misery.  No matter their race, creed, or code, each man and woman here tonight has stood naked against this brass pole.  They’ve all donned invisible erasers and expunged themselves of their imaginary rules.  This is a coming of age party, and I’m the rock star of the evening.  It’s our Graduation, initiation, whatever you want to call it, and tomorrow I have an appointment with a tattoo artist.  I’m a new Tara Townsend, and I’m armed with an eraser and a plug in dildo!  Ready to start new, with or without my trusty sidekick Simmons!

Another hand slides warmly down the small of my back and I realize I’m beginning to whimper with need; of what I can’t be sure.  I’ve learned so much over the past weeks.  At first I rationalized it as a do or die situation, a last ditch effort to save the crumbles of my very existence.  Now I understand it for what it is:  the freeing of my mind and body.  You see, during my, let’s call it education (because Slut Wife Training sounds so trashy and all), I found that ninety nine point nine percent of the rules I’d lived my life by are utterly, completely, and entirely bullshit.  Yes, see how I’ve changed?  I can even use a curse word now without blushing fifteen shades of purple.  That’s me, the new and improved Tara!  I should take a bow.

And so it is that I’m tied to this pole.  Desperation drove me here but training at the hands of an understanding Club tied me.  And during these weeks of emotional and spiritual evolution I’ve come to realize that I’m my own woman.  I like being blind folded and played with until I absolutely can’t stand it and need to fuck.  There, I’ve told you my fetish.  I still wouldn’t say it to Father Riley, that poor child has enough of a struggle.  But I’ve said it to you, and somehow that absolves me of whatever remnants of guilt that remain.  Now the hands that rummage my body are thick and muscular, working hands.  My breathing stops as I recognize them as Jonathon’s.  Their touch makes Vagina and Clitoris scream with joy as though someone had just said “Surprise!”  I’ve thought of these hands often, the way they wind into my hair with their silk like texture, the way they guide him inside my lips.  Yes!  I recognize them, and can do nothing but concentrate on their every movement.

When they’re replaced with female hands and the unmistakable scent of Chanel Number Five, I shiver.  I imagine Cynthia Pringle touching me and my skin crawls.  They reach deep between my thighs and toy with Clitoris, causing my nipples shrivel and perk.  I’ve mentioned before that lesbianism terrifies me, and it’s not on my agenda anytime soon, yet my intrigue is growing alarmingly fast.  But soon even those icy fingers are replaced with others and I lose thoughts of women and even the masculine man who’d taken me to the most euphoric heights of orgasm in his office at O’Malley’s.  I only want to imagine that it’s Simmons who touches me.

As a matter of fact, somewhere during Ellen’s story I began to dream of Simmons as my mystery lover.  Is it possible?  That his hands are really running over my skin with that velvet touch?  He’s a writer; his hands are strong and muscular… I dismiss the thought; it hurts too much and I dare not hope.  And besides, Vagina and Clitoris are thoroughly enjoying their private party tonight.  I’d hate to ruin that for them.  So I do as I’m trained, I enjoy myself.

A small bell rings in the distance and my head turns towards the sound.  I can hear Jonathon clearing his throat, “Ladies and Gentlemen, can I have your attention!”

The sounds in the room quiet quickly.  “I’d like to thank you all for being here to welcome our three newest members!  There’s the sound of light applause before he goes on.  “Each will meet with Ellen in my private office.  We’ll take you from left to right please.  After you meet with Ellen, feel free to dress upstairs and join the party.  I know everyone is dying to meet you officially!  Steve, would you mind escorting them in for their official welcome from Ellen?”

“My pleasure!”  Steve’s voice is unmistakable.  But I stay tied to this pole while the rest of the room resumes their aimless chatter.  No one touches me now and my body, including Vagina and Clitoris, already miss the caresses.  I hear the woman on my left squeal with excitement as her blindfold is removed.  Suddenly I’m jealous!  Asparagus jello mold kind of jealous; green, gooey, bitter and chilled.  I’m sure it’s her husband that she sees as her first sight, and my soul retreats with the depression of my own marriage.  I dare not hope that I will open my eyes and find Simmons standing in front of me.  He’s known all along and maybe participated!  Regardless of my inner warnings, I continue to fantasize that I’ll see his face in a few minutes.  My body gets hot with passion at the thought of him seeing me like this.  He’ll know once and for all that I’m not the same woman I was all those weeks ago.  It’s time for change, and I’d like for him to come along for the ride.

Warm hands touch my arm, “Are you ready Tara?”  It’s Steve, I can tell, and I nod.

Clamps on my arms and ankles are opened and my skin ripples under the freedom of their absence.  I brace for my fantasy to come true, but as the blindfold is removed and my eyes adjust, my heart sinks.  It was too much to dream of.  Now is the moment I should throw in the towel and call a divorce attorney, at least that way he can have his floozy legally.  The kids are old enough, they’ll get over it.  But Steve’s hand is warm and firm, and holds me gently, as if I’m a flower he dare not crush.  I’ve never really noticed his eyes before; they’re a chocolate brown that makes me squishy inside.  And as if a thousand books are thrown at me at once, I try desperately to read all of the information that spills from them.  They tell of many generations, some feel wild, some feel loving, while others dare me to entice them.  And I am completely captivated until Patty steps to our side, “Umm… boys and girls, while I appreciate you two seeing each other for the first time and all, Ellen’s waiting on Tara.”

“Yes, yes, I guess she is,” Steve mumbles, but his eyes are still glued to mine.  “Well I sure don’t want to be the one to keep her waiting!” And he tugs my arm and leads me towards the double doors of Jonathon’s office, almost reluctantly.

“Go on in, she won’t bite,” He whispers as he leaves me at the doorway with a light kiss.  The lighting is different in the room tonight, fainter and more relaxed.  Natalie Cole plays softly from hidden speakers as I step inside nervously.  What if she doesn’t like me?  What if she says this whole thing hasn’t worked out and I should go home and put my Walmart bathrobe back on and count my blessings?

“Tara darling, be a dear and close that door behind you!  Lock it if you wish.”

My eyes scan the cluttered room and land on her, on a chaise lounge near the corner of the room.  She lies casually as if we’ve met a thousand times before and I’m her best friend.  And as I lock the door she beckons me to her, “Come here my beautiful one.  Let me have a look at you!  Jonathon does nothing but praise you, I swear that man has a crush on you and he won’t shut up!”

As I near, her figure becomes clear and I’m stunned at how lovely she is.  I’d expected someone much older, gray perhaps with a hint of blue.  Instead she looks almost identical to her sister Elise, who I met in the plastic surgeon’s office.  Only their hair color and eye color’s are different.  She takes my hand and pulls me closer, and I suddenly realize that either Stephan Kellar is a magician, or time has been really, really good to her.  I smile, I’m already in love, “And I’m sure Jonathon’s crush lasts, until he looks back at you!”

She chuckles, “It’s funny how when I was young I fought against everything.  It was my mission to make life difficult on myself.  Once I discovered how to stop that, I started to go with the flow around me.  No sense in fighting old age, just get a damned good plastic surgeon and move on.”  And she winks at me but pats the end of her lounge to ask me to sit.

“As a matter of fact, I was online looking for a good plastic surgeon when I found, your book.  My husband does some proofreading for authors.  It was on his computer.  I’m afraid I read it.”  The words blurt from me, I hadn’t planned on sharing it with her and my words seem awkward.  But did I mention the woman has me spellbound?  I’ve never seen a woman with such persuasive confidence and I’m glued to her.

Ellen shakes her head, “I’m sure you did.  You wouldn’t have been able to keep me from reading it either!  So what did you take from it?”

I considered, there are so many things that have happened over the past weeks… and then it comes to me, “That life is a negotiation.  It’s as though God set out a table of good and bad items for me to choose from, but somehow in my mind, once I picked one I could never return it.  Once it was in my hand it belonged to me, even if I tried it on and it didn’t fit.  I was stuck with it and had to wear it.  But that’s not the way life is.  God didn’t set those imaginary rules, he just put the items on the table and said take what you want!  He never said anything about switching them out from time to time, trying different ones on.  He never said it because he didn’t intend for it to be that way.  I can even trade my items with a friend if I want.  There are no rules as long as I’m honest, good to myself, and treat my items with care.”

Ellen bursts forward and grabs my neck, pulling me close to her quadruple D breasts.  Clitoris bounces in her baby chair downstairs as she plunges my face deep into her cleavage.  If it’s true that all women have a certain level of testosterone in their bodies, then mine is working overtime.  I nuzzle there, between her breasts, relishing in her scent.  Then it occurs to me, this isn’t Chanel Number Five!  I peer up from her chest, “I thought you wore Chanel?”  It seems like a silly question considering my position, but that’s what comes out.

My head bounces on her breasts like a jumping castle as she laughs, “I guess you’ve met mother then?”

“Mother?” I frown.

“Mother may have died and left us all to our own vices, but she graces us with her presence from time to time,”  And she laughs again, “She ran Evangeline out of the house with silly things.  Sometimes the drapes would be drawn in the middle of the day, or she’d jump up and down in the attic until Evangeline couldn’t think anymore.  As it turned out, Evangeline didn’t want this big old house after all.  Jonathon and I bought it from her for the cost of her condo in Summerville.  You see mother wasn’t going to leave this house and Evangeline knew it.  Everyone just has to accept living with the ghost of my mother in the house, that’s all.  Has she touched you yet?  That’s creepy as hell?”

I giggle, “As a matter of fact, I think she did!”

“Well then, it’s official!  Christina Devereux has deemed you a member of the Tramp Stamp Club!”  I giggle like a toddler as she pushes my face into her breasts and wiggles them, “And that my dear is my reserved booby wiggle that only my special favorites get!”  But she lifts my head and smiles broadly, “Now scram!  Go enjoy the party and let me tend to my other guests.  And you’d better make it quick before I throw you down and lick you from head to toe.”

I laugh and hop up from the lounge, “Play gently with me Mistress, I’m a newbie!”

Her leg swings out and kicks me in the thigh, “Newbie my ass, you were born horny!  Hell I bet you’ve named your pussy!”

I stand firm in front of her and cross my arms, “I’d prefer that you not talk that way about Vagina, she’s a dear friend.”

“Oh child!  We’re going to have a blast together.  I’m serious, you’d better run!”  Ellen starts off the lounge playfully, but I’m already halfway to the door, giggling my way out.  I’m in LOVE with her!

And I do go upstairs and dress before re-joining the party.  But I don’t stay long.  I have a heavy desire to be home for the night.  I just want to be near my husband.  Even if he’s snoring in his office recliner, having him near is the warmth I need.

I’ll never be finished making love to you

Simmons Townsend

~Tara Townsend

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