He maneuvered the expensive sports car like a professional race car driver, avoiding the deer by ten feet easily.
Make me waste my money and time, will you?
he thought, snickering to himself as she opened her eyes.
“What was that?”
“Looked like a bear.”
“A bear! Look, Maurice, you need to find a highway and get me back to New York. I don’t wanna be out here in the woods with no bears and shit.”
“Relax. I have my gun in the trunk.”
“What good is it gonna do you in the trunk? Pull this car over and get the damn gun.”
Maurice pulled the car over to the side of the road, then pulled the trunk-release switch.
“If you want the gun so badly, go get it. It’s in my toolbox. You can’t miss it.”
“I’m not going out there!” she said with attitude.
“That’s fine with me, but I’m not driving until somebody closes my trunk, and it was your idea to get the gun.” He pulled the lever to recline his chair, then looked over at her and smiled devilishly before closing his eyes.
Sharon couldn’t believe his arrogance. He was so nice during their entire date. That is, until she made it clear that they were not going to have sex.
“You know, Maurice, you’re a real asshole.” She opened her door and walked around to the trunk, finding the toolbox. “This damn thing is locked!” she yelled.
Maurice rolled down his window. “Just shut the trunk and bring it up here. I have the key in my glove compartment.”
Grinning, Maurice brought his seat to an upright position as he watched Sharon in his rearview mirror. When she closed the trunk, he laughed hard, beeping the horn as he put his foot on the accelerator.
Sharon dropped the toolbox in disbelief and ran after the car. “You son of a bitch, Maurice! Stop playing fucking games!”
He stopped the car about a hundred feet away from her. Sharon breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the car stop.
“This fucking guy is crazy,” she grumbled, turning around to pick up the toolbox.
Maurice was laughing so hard, he was in tears. He stepped out of his car and screamed.
“Hurry up, Sharon! I think I hear something in the woods!”
Terrified, she fell and broke the heel of her shoe trying to get to the car. Getting up quickly, she never looked back as she ran, still lugging the heavy toolbox.
Maurice, still laughing, bent over and picked up a rock. He threw it into the woods so that it ruffled the leaves.
“Oh, my God, Sharon! Did you hear that? It’s a bear! Run, sweetheart! Run!” He got back in the car.
“Ohhh, shit!” she screamed, falling down again, facefirst in the dirt. Struggling back up, Sharon left the toolbox this time as she limped closer to the car.
Maurice buckled his seat belt and stuck his head out the window.
“Hey, Sharon, next time a guy takes you out and shows you a good time, you might want to make sure he gets laid!” He sped away, kicking up dirt and gravel in her face.
As he drove onto the highway, Maurice slammed his hand against the dashboard.
Damn, that was a fucking waste of time. And I lost a brand new toolbox!
He thought about his wife, hoping she would be awake when he got home. Not that it mattered. He would wake her. It was time she started to perform her some of her wifely duties. Since his VD scare, he had not had intercourse, and oral sex just wasn’t doing it anymore. He sped home to find some satisfaction.
Sylvia pulled into her Jamaica Estates home, exhausted. The excitement and passion from her night with Tyrone at the top of Manhattan had sapped all her energy. And then he had insisted on a quickie at his apartment before they said their good-byes.
She passed Maurice’s car in the driveway. “Shit,” she mumbled, “I thought he was going to be home late tonight.” She pulled her car into the garage.
Things had become very tense in the Johnson household in the past few months. Maurice had recently become upset every time Sylvia refused his sexual advances. The tables had turned, and Maurice was practically begging in the last few days. Sylvia, on the other hand, was finding him more and more repulsive every day. With Tyrone she was experiencing the warmth and security of unconditional love for the first time in her life. Her husband had become nothing more than an inconvenience. She had no interest in being in the same room with him, let alone being intimate.
Entering the house through the garage door, she walked past Maurice’s study and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the light coming from under the door. She tiptoed up the stairs to her bedroom and quickly removed her clothes in the dark. Fingering the key to Tyrone’s apartment around her neck, she fantasized about running away with him to some island paradise where she could watch him paint and walk to the market with a straw basket.
Oh, God, Bernard was right
, she thought as she unhooked her bra.
I’m going to have to divorce Maurice.
“Where have you been?” Maurice said deeply, scaring her as he turned on the light. He had been sitting in the chair next to the bed for over an hour, waiting for her to come home. In the meantime he had drunk half a bottle of brandy.
“I said, where the hell have you been?” He slammed his hand on the night table.
“I had a club meeting,” she answered nonchalantly.
“Oh, you did,” he slurred smugly. “Well, how come Vivian and Jen didn’t know about this club meeting? Matter of fact, Jen said you were over her house until five minutes before I called there.”
“Well, ah, I was at her house. But then I had to go to, ahh ... to a club committee meeting. You know, I didn’t remember I was supposed to be there until I was halfway home.”
She tried to laugh to diffuse his mood. He gave her a look that let her know he didn’t believe a word she had told him.
“Why are you asking me all these questions about my whereabouts anyway? You’re starting to make me think you don’t trust me, Maurice. That’s not good in a marriage. Maybe I should keep a closer watch of your whereabouts, as much as you disappear for days at a time.” She hoped he would leave her alone if she put some of the blame on him.
“Hey, look, Sylvia, don’t get all bent out of shape. I was just worried about you. That’s all.” Maurice’s attempts at sounding sweet were so unnatural. “Doesn’t a husband have the right to be worried about his wife?”
He stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her. His hands wandered down her back, and he was surprised but pleased to discover she was wearing a G-string, so her buttocks were exposed. He began to gently massage her.
“Have you been working out?” He smiled, breathing down her neck.
“Yes,” she answered, thinking,
for the past six months, motherfucker. Thanks for finally noticing.
“You know, Sylvia. I’ve been waiting the past hour to make love to you.” He kissed her neck romantically. “How about it?”
Sylvia contemplated agreeing just so he would leave her alone for a few days but decided against it when she realized how tired she was from her earlier escapades with Tyrone.
“That would be nice, Maurice, but I’m really tired. How about a rain check?” She faked a yawn.
“Rain check? I don’t want a rain check. I want some sex!” He became agitated and grabbed her shoulders tightly. “What the fuck do I have to do to get laid around here anyway?”
Sylvia stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“I’m getting sick of your bullshit excuses, Sylvia. You’re gonna gimme some and you’re gonna gimme some tonight!”
“Maurice, I’m tired and I’m going to go to sleep,” she responded flatly, and pushed him away, walking into the bathroom.
“Come back here, Sylvia, I’m talking to you! Come back here!”
He followed her to the bathroom, but she shut the door in his face. Ready to explode, he reached for the doorknob but heard the lock click.
“Open this door, Sylvia. Open this door now!” His face was burning red as he banged on the bathroom door. “Goddammit, I’m your husband. You can’t deny me sex. It’s your fucking duty!”
He was furious now as he stomped around the room, knocking over pictures and lamps. Sylvia cowered in the bathroom, wishing she had an escape. She had no idea what he was capable of in this state.
“If you don’t open that fucking door right now, I swear to God I’m gonna break it down!”
He waited ten seconds, then ran toward the door, slamming his foot into it so hard that Sylvia heard the wood splitting. The frame had cracked, and he was able to open the door with one more shove. He marched over to Sylvia, who was standing across the room.
“What the fuck is your problem?” She tried to act as though she weren’t as terrified as she really was. “That’s a six-hundred-dollar door!”
“I’ll tell you what my problem is,” he shouted, grabbing her by the neck and lifting her off the ground. “My wife ain’t giving me no pussy! What’s it been now, Sylvia, four months since you let me get some? Well, tonight’s the night, baby, whether you like it or not!”
She begged him to let her go as he dragged her by the neck into the bedroom.
Please, God, don’t let him kill me
, she prayed as she struggled to get air into her lungs. Maurice threw her on the bed, smiling as she gasped for air.
“Think you want to give me some now?” He frantically unbuckled his pants and dropped them around his ankles.
“Maurice, why are you doing this? Don’t you understand this is rape?” she cried as she tried to crawl to the other side of the bed.
“You can’t rape your wife,” he said, stepping out of his pants. “Now shut the fuck up!”
“Please, Maurice, don’t do this! Please! Ahhhhhh!”
He grabbed her leg and flipped her over on her stomach.
“Sylvia, do you know the only thing I’ve never tried in bed? Anal sex! I always wanted to try anal sex. But I never got around to asking you to do it.”
Sylvia began to kick and fight even harder when she heard him say that. For a few seconds she was able to keep him at bay with her feet, until he slapped her hard.
Oh, God, please don’t let him violate me like this. Please!
she sobbed. He seemed to get more excited by her struggling.
Turning over on her back, she tried to smile through her tears as she told him in a trembling voice, “Okay, Maurice, listen, baby. I’m going to give you some right now. I swear it’s going to be the best you ever had.”
She desperately scrambled to get her panties off, opening her legs wide so that they could have intercourse. Maurice stood there, smiling almost psychotically. He was as excited as he’d ever been in the past. For some reason the violence-and-sex combination excited him in a way he had never experienced. He could feel his penis throb as Sylvia’s fear escalated.
“Too late, baby. I don’t want that anymore.” He laughed, smacking her again as he grabbed her hair. “Turn over, bitch!”
“Nooo! Oh, God! Somebody help me! Please, Maurice, don’t do this!”
He threw her onto her stomach, pinning her face hard to the mattress with his body weight. Enjoying her screams, he bit her shoulder hard as he positioned himself to violate her rectum.
She screamed as his teeth broke her skin. Reaching for the night table, she managed to get her fingers around the base of his reading lamp. Swinging it backward with all her might, she hit him squarely on the head.
“You fucking bitch!” He jumped up and grabbed his head with both hands to see if he was bleeding. Sylvia dragged herself off the bed and ran out of the room.
Downstairs she scrambled through a closet to find an overcoat to cover her exposed body, screaming as she heard him coming down the stairs. Throwing on her mink coat, she snatched her purse and keys and ran out the front door.
“What the fuck do I do now?” she cried, remembering that she had parked her car in the garage.
Maurice reached the door, still bleeding.
“Sylvia, come back, honey! I’m sorry. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”
He ran toward her, naked, as she opened his car and got in. She locked the doors just as he arrived. He watched as his terrified wife backed his car out of the driveway.
“Come on, Sylvia, I was just playing with you! It was just a little fun,” he shouted after her. Looking down the road, he spotted one of his neighbors walking a dog and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him.
Fingering the key around her neck, Sylvia sobbed as she drove to Tyrone’s apartment. She knew she would never spend another night in that house with Maurice.
Sylvia was still shaking uncontrollably as she searched for a parking space on Tyrone’s block. The tears had finally stopped, and she had become angry.
That son of a bitch was about to rape me,
she thought incredulously, lighting a cigarette.
I can’t believe this is happening to me.