Better Off Without Him (14 page)

Doug spotted her first, and whispered wickedly in my ear. “Look. It’s Our Lady of the Bodacious Ta-Tas.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered back. “And I think they’re real.”

I recognized her as the woman renting the house at the corner. Her breasts were stupendous. And I am a keen observer of breasts. Since I’ve spent so many years writing about them, frantically searching for the right adjectives and, in some cases, adverbs, to describe them, I’ve become an expert observer. In fact, for a heterosexual woman, I spend an inordinate amount of time looking at and thinking about women’s mammaries. But this woman was off the scale.

They started about four inches below her chin, jutting out like the prow of a ship, then cutting back in about three inches above her belt buckle. She was showing ample cleavage, enough to reveal not the perfect rounds of flesh so easily identified as silicone, but the soft, undulating skin that God alone can create.

She glanced our way, must have seen us staring, and waved before working her way through the crowd to where we were standing. I imagined that, in her head, each step was accompanied by a little brass band playing ‘ba-boom, ba-boom’.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly, “I’m Vicki Montrose. I’m renting the Keller place. You’re Mona Berman. I love your books. I can’t believe I’m meeting you. I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

I tried to look modest. Doug tried to look anywhere but down the front of her shirt. “Thank you, Vicki. It’s nice to meet you. This is Doug Keegan. He lives right next to Scott and Steve. He’s famous too. He invented Death Ride 66. Ever hear of it?”

She turned to Doug, forcing his eyes up. “Yes. My sons play it all the time. It’s terribly violent, isn’t it?”

I could see the strain of his keeping his eyes on her face. “Yes. But it made me a lot of money. You should have your sons come over. They can test Death Ride 2000. My own boys are loving it.”

She fluttered a perfectly manicured hand. “Oh, they’re staying with my mother this summer. I’m going through a divorce right now. I feel the need to be alone. I have to try to gather all my inner strength and focus on healing. It’s been a terrible ordeal.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said instantly. “I know how you feel. I’m going through a divorce myself.”

She had very pretty blue eyes that widened and filled with tears. “Isn’t it terrible? The feeling of abandonment and isolation? I’m completely at a loss. How are you coping?”

“It’s getting easier” I sighed, and took a long drink.

She got a little closer. “So, tell me,” she murmured. “What are you doing for sex?”

I must have looked a little taken aback, because she suddenly fluttered her hand again. “I’m only asking because, well, your books, and everything. You must be very enlightened about sex. Open, you know. Free. I’m going crazy, myself. Especially when I see happy couples together. All I can think about is - ” she lowered her voice, - “you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Doug said innocently. “Tell me.”

She ignored him. “I mean, how will I ever start even dating again? It’s a cruel world out there.”

“I’m practice dating,” I said, taking another gulp of my drink. Pineapple and cranberry. Very refreshing.

She looked interested. “Really? With who?”

Doug smiled. “With me. If you like, I can book you for next Thursday.”

She tilted her head, looking him over carefully. “Let me think about it,” she said to him, very seriously. Then she switched back to me. “I have a brother.”

“Oh? I have a sister.”

“I meant,” she fluttered her hand again, “in case you’re interested. He’s younger than us, of course.” I felt flattered. She was probably in her late thirties. Did she think I was that young?

“Really?”

“Yes. Cute, too. I don’t know why he isn’t more successful with women.”

“Maybe,” Doug suggested, “he’s Scott’s type.”

She frowned. “No, I don’t think so. He’s got no game, you know? No confidence. Maybe I should have him call you?”

I didn’t know what to say to that, exactly, so I just smiled and, thankfully, the Wilsons swept through, taking Doug and me with them, where they sheltered us and kept us laughing until Doug said it was time to officially start our date.

We had to drive to downtown Beach Haven for dinner, where the fish was, of course, fabulous, but they also had steaks to die for. We had a very nice dinner, and conversation came easy. When Doug is on, he’s really a charmer. I had spent hours sitting and laughing with him on my back porch, and with the quiet candles, soft music, and great food, I felt very comfortable with him. And uncomfortable. We were both in new roles, and I wasn’t sure how this evening was supposed to end up.

Neither did Doug, because as we drove home, he suddenly broke our nice, warm silence. “So, what are you doing for sex?”

“Thinking about it way too much,” I answered truthfully. “I’m opening an account at BigHonkingDildos.com.”

“Am I supposed to make a pass at you?” he asked as he turned into his drive.

I sat there, thinking. “Well, that’s an interesting idea, but where would we go? I know that my daughters are probably looking at us right now from the upstairs window. If we go into your house, they’ll probably freak. If we go to my house-well, we won’t go to my house.”

“Ever have sex on the beach?”

“The drink?” I asked lightly. “It made me puke.”

“No. The real thing.”

“No. I was always worried about getting sand up my butt.”

He grinned. “Look. Let’s walk. No pressure, okay?”

So we walked up to the beach. There was no romantic full moon, and the tide had left behind a slimy assortment at the water line that reeked faintly of fish. Not ideal seduction circumstances. We sat for a while up near the dunes. It was cool, dark, and I had goose bumps everywhere.

“Well,” he said at last, “what do you think?”

“I generally don’t put out on the first date,” I told him. “At least, I didn’t when I was eighteen.”

“Okay,” he said, and stood up, brushing sand from his shorts.

I reached up, grabbed his hand, and pulled him back down next to me. “I’m not eighteen anymore,” I told him.

“I know.” It was too dark to see his eyes. Or even much of his face. But he smelled good, salty and musky. And there was a faint heat coming off his body.

“What would it mean, exactly?” I asked.

“Us having sex?”

I nodded.

“Well, see, the good thing about me is that I’m perfectly comfortable being the rebound guy. The revenge-fuck guy. The mercy-fuck guy. It doesn’t bother me that you’re still married, technically speaking. It doesn’t bother me that Brian probably thinks of me as a friend. When it comes to sex, I’m very straightforward. I love it ‘cause it feels good. So, what would this mean?” He turned on his side, facing me, propping himself on his elbow. “Whatever you want, Mona. I happen to think you’re an attractive woman. I want you. Do I want happily ever after? Probably not. I’ve never considered you in that way before. Do I think we could have a good time? Yeah. And that’s pretty much as complicated as it gets for me.”

“My friend Patricia thinks I need a fuck buddy.”

“Your friend Patricia sounds like a wise woman.”

“I haven’t been with anyone other than Brian in twenty years.”

“We’re pretty much built the same. And things work the same way. ”

“Would we use a condom?”

“Absolutely. And trust me, they’re much improved.”

“What about this dead horseshoe crab right next to me?”

He reached over and pulled me, across his own body, until I was lying down on his other side. He leaned in close. “See, all gone.” And he kissed me.

Kissing someone other than Brian was a shock that lasted about three seconds. Then, biology kicked in and I kissed back.

I got sand up my butt.

I didn’t care.

Ever notice how much more brightly the sun shines after really good sex? How the birds sing sweeter, water tastes fresher, air smells cleaner? I walked over to Scott and Steve’s the next morning, sat down at their kitchen table and said, “That coffee smells great. And did you hear the gulls this morning?”

Scott looked at me. “You screwed him,” he said.

“What?” I was trying to bluff.

Steve squinted. “He’s right. You had sex with Doug last night. And it was good.” He sat down and looked at me intently. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

“Guys,” I stalled, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes we do,” countered Scott. “Come on. He’s coming over later, so we’ll hear about it all anyway. So, where did you guys go?”

“To dinner at the Harvest Tavern.”

“No, I mean after,” Steve said impatiently.

I sighed. “For a walk on the beach.”

“What?” Scott said. “But it was dark and windy last night. And there was all kinds of sea gack on the sand. It smelled pretty gross.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “And I was sitting right next to a dead horseshoe crab.”

Steve looked uncomfortable. “I’d have thought Doug had a little more class than that.” He sniffed.

“Really,” said Scott. “But, was it good?”

If I hadn’t known these guys for almost nine years, I might have been offended. “It was great. He was great. I felt like Deborah Kerr with Burt Lancaster in From Here To Eternity.”

“Oh,” Scott sighed. “I knew it. I always knew he’d be great in the sack. After all these years of just fantasizing, to finally know for sure.” He may have gotten teary at this point. “And he’s really hung, right?”

“Oh, stop it,” I snapped.

Steve made little clucking noises. “Okay, that’s enough. I’m happy for you, Mona. Very happy. Somebody like Doug is just what you need right now, to help you feel young and sexy again. After all, you got dumped for a hot young thing. I’m sure your ego was in need of a boost.”

“My ego has been just fine, thank you very much,” I said dryly.

“I’m sure,” Steve said soothingly. “But isn’t it nice to have it, well, stroked?”

I grinned. “You bet. And Doug is a good stroker.”

Scott beamed. “Make sure you e-mail Anthony. He’ll be so proud.”

“Anthony? My Anthony?” Anthony usually spent a week or so with us, and knew Scott and Steve well. “What has Anthony got to do with anything?”

“He’s got a crush on Doug,” Scott said smugly. “Has for years. Know what his nickname for Doug is? Surfer Ken.”

Crush? I thought it was Ben Cutler he had a thing for. Was Anthony attracted to all the straight men in my life? Did he ever have a thing for Brian? “Anthony is in love,” I told them. “He may not even come down this year. He may be going sailing with his new beau.”

“Really?” Steve poured more coffee, and we sat and gossiped happily for the next hour, then I went back across the street. Doug’s house was all closed up. He and his sons were off doing some ridiculously strenuous activity, like they did every morning. I sat at my desk for a while, trying to answer e-mails, but I kept drifting off to Doug-Doug land. I thought, briefly, of calling Brian and telling him all about it, but reconsidered.

“Mom.” Lauren was in the doorway, tennis racket in hand. “I’m off to meet Devlin. Did you have a good time last night?”

I was suddenly stricken with guilt. My daughter would surely see the signs. She would know what I did last night. She would be shocked.

“Yes. We had dinner at the Harvest.”

“That’s nice. You got in late.”

“Yes. We walked on the beach.”

She made a face. “It was yucky on the beach last night. Dead horseshoe crabs everywhere.”

“Yes. I noticed.”

“Do you think you’ll go out with him again?”

Good question. Last night, as he walked me to my door and kissed me hard, crushing me against the doorjamb, with his hand up my shirt and mine down the back of his shorts, I asked him when we could do this again and he said whenever I wanted.

“Maybe tonight. Who knows?”

“Okay. Good. Well, see you later.”

“Have a good game.” I smiled as she left. She hadn’t a clue. Thank God. She said she was meeting Devlin. That meant all the Keegans were back. Would Doug have the energy for a nooner?

Instead of calling him to ask, I went to the beach and lay out on the sand, baking. Miranda drifted by, set up her umbrella and all her other accoutrements, and settled under the shade.

“So, tell me everything,” she said.

“Everything? Okay. We started with a cocktail, then salad. I had house with balsamic, and he –“

“Mom.” She sighed. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I think you should continue go out with him, until you feel comfortable being in the company of a man other than Daddy. I realize you may have difficulty opening up to somebody else. But let me know when you’re ready for phase two.”

“Phase Two?”

“Yes. That would be a date with a stranger.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

She slathered herself with lotion, brushed her hair on top of her head, arranged herself in a sand chair, plugged in her iPod, stacked five magazines neatly in the sand next to her chair, took a long swig on her water bottle, and settled back, eyes closed. Fifteen minutes later, she sat up and told me she was going for a walk. I nodded, and as soon as she was gone, I moved to her chair under the umbrella and snoozed until Doug sat down beside me.

His appearance was more of what I was used to. His faded shirt had parrots on it and was opened to his navel. His jean shorts were cut so high that the pockets hung down lower than the frayed cuff. He was barefoot, his hair was wooly, and he was wearing sunglasses.

“I had lunch with Scott and Steve. They’re very happy for us. They say I need to be gentle with you. I didn’t have the heart to tell them you practically tore my skin off last night.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. I’ll have scars forever. Or at least until next Monday.”

“Poor baby. I promise to never do that again.”

“Please, don’t promise that. I enjoyed it.”

“Mmmm. Me too. Miranda thinks I should continue dating you until I feel comfortable opening up to someone other than Brian.”

Doug chuckled. “Yeah, well, keep me in the loop.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

“Listen, Mona, are we sure we’re doing the right thing?”

I sat up and looked at him. “What are you saying?”

He pushed his glasses to the top of his head. “I like you, Mona,” he said.

“Thank you. I like you too. I thought we’d established that.”

“No. What I mean is, I like you as a friend. That doesn’t happen to me much. In fact, you’ve always been one of the few women I like talking to even with your clothes on. Most women need to be naked for me to spend much time with them.”

“I’ve noticed that about you.”

“So, you see where there may be a problem.”

“No, I don’t. Unless you’re suggesting that now that you’ve seen me naked, you don’t like me anymore, which, I’ve got to tell you, would be kind of a huge blow.”

“You’re fine naked. Very fine. It’s not that.” He made a face.

Oh, shit, I thought.

I had never been unfaithful to my husband. Never. Even when I was much younger and, I must say, something of a hot babe. I mean, I’d get hit on all the time. But I was always steadfast. I loved Brian. I was happy in our marriage. I’d taken vows. So for twenty years I never seriously thought about sex with another man, despite my continuous daydreaming about it. Maybe my sturdy resolve was due to the fact that, because of the nature of my writing, I was having constant fantasy sex with hoards of men endowed with various degrees of unbounded attractiveness and sexual prowess. But whatever the reason, I’d been faithful.

And, to tell you the truth, things had gotten a little too comfortable the past few years with Brian. After all, there are only so many combinations available. Even the Kama Sutra ends.

But now I was a free woman. Sure, there were still papers to sign, but it would only be a matter of months. For all intents and purposes, my marriage was over and I was free to have sex with whomever I wanted. And the perfect Guy-After-Brian was right there, sitting next to me. He was safe and friendly and, if last night was any indication, extremely talented. And he was the kind of guy who could have sex without any emotional complication. Exactly what I needed and wanted.

And now, suddenly, he’s developed a conscience?

“Wait a minute. What happened to the rebound guy? What happened to the revenge-fuck guy? Last night you didn’t care that I was still legally married to someone who might consider you a friend, but today you’re concerned because you like me? Is that it?”

He looked sheepish. “Yeah. I guess when you put it that way, it seems a little silly.”

“It is silly. Very silly. Listen to me, Doug. I’ve been having sex pretty regularly for over twenty years, and I’ve got to tell you, last night was memorable. I couldn’t write something that good, and believe me, I’m an award winner when it comes to fantasy sex. So please don’t go all noble on me, Doug. You’ve slept with women for years and never gave them a single thought. Let me be one of them. I’m begging you.”

He chuckled again. “I don’t want you to stop being my friend, Mona. I’d miss that.”

“I promise, Doug, that no matter how many times you screw me senseless, I’ll always be your friend.”

“Okay.” He looked relieved for a moment then tilted his head so he could look over the tops of his sunglasses. His eyes were so squinty I could barely see them, but I knew that expression anywhere. “Want to go back over to Scott and Steve’s? They just left for Cape May and let me have their key. Or we could use their outdoor shower.”

“If we used the shower, we’d have to be quiet.”

“Yes, but it would be warm and wet and there’s no roof, so we’d be in the sunshine.”

“Let’s go.”

Even better without the sand up my butt.

For the past five years, I’ve had a big cookout for MarshaMarsha and her family their first day down the shore. Prior to that, her mother and father would throw a big cookout, but in one year, her father died of a heart attack and her mother had a stroke. So I invited the whole crew to my house that year, and every year after that.

MarshaMarsha always arrived with her family the weekend after the Fourth of July, so they were due in town about ten days after Doug and I started dating. And to be honest, we did go on real dates. Four of them. The rest of our time together had been in the relentless pursuit of someplace safe and comfortable to have sex, someplace we wouldn’t be discovered by my kids, his kids, or any passing strangers. It had become a challenge, but one we were fully prepared to meet.

The Riollo family arrived just at four on a Sunday afternoon. I was sitting on my back porch with the Wilsons, my down-the-shore next door neighbors. They were retired teachers with no children who had been spending their summers in the same house for over twenty years. They were good friends. When I told them about Brian, the very first night after we had come down, Tom looked shocked and sputtered about what a great guy Brian had been and how awful everything was. Annie just rolled her eyes and shook her head, finally telling me that she had always thought I deserved better. They hadn’t mentioned Brian since that day. They knew that Doug and I had gone to dinner, but if they were curious about anything else, they kept it to themselves. One of the reasons I loved them.

MarshaMarsha was carrying an armful of fresh corn. Al, her husband, was walking beside MarshaMarsha’s mother, Celeste D’Annello. Mrs. D. was about four feet tall and, in the manner of all old, tiny Italian ladies everywhere, had permed steel gray hair and a unibrow. She walked slowly and had been going deaf for years. She had a tendency to drift into her own little world, only to take a sudden interest in a conversation five minutes after it was over, at which point she would ask a number of questions at concert pitch. She was a lovely lady, but a bit trying.

I stood up to shake her hand as she came onto the back porch, and offered her my chair. The Wilsons had also stood, there were kisses and handshakes all around, then Mrs. D. sank into my chair, smiled dreamily, and focused on some point in the yard just left of the garage. Al, seeing her settled, pecked me on the cheek and made a beeline for the red plastic tub filled with ice, beer and soda, popped the top off a Bud Light and took a long pull.

“Good trip down?” Tom asked brightly.

“I’m gonna kill them all,” Al snarled. He sat down. “They’re animals,” he muttered. “They should be in cages.”

I took the bag of corn from MarshaMarsha and she followed me into the kitchen. “The boys not behaving?”

She sighed. “It’s getting harder and harder. They don’t want to leave their friends, Nick got tapped for all-stars but I had to tell him no, Jack wanted to be in a summer theater production, and I had to say no to that as well. I don’t know how long I can keep dragging them down here. Thank God for Doug Keegan and his sons. The boys are already over there getting ready to windsurf or something equally exhausting.” Something must have flickered across my face because she suddenly looked sharp. “What?”

I cleared my throat. “Doug.”

“What about Doug?”

I glanced over my shoulder. Tom and Annie had Al relaxed and laughing already. The girls, I knew, were still on the beach. “Doug and I are having sex.”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

“It was the girls’ idea, actually.”

“The girls told you to have sex? With Doug?”

“No, of course not. They decided that I needed to practice dating.”

“What are you talking about?” She had dumped the corn in the sink and was shaking off all the dried corn silk.

“Practice dating. Apparently, they’re convinced that Brian is never coming back, and they wanted me to practice dating somebody in preparation for the actual dating I may do in the future. They picked Doug as my first sample. And we ended up having really great sex. Then we had it again. And again.”