The Big "O": A Romantic Comedy (13 page)

“I love that,” Emily said, “It's so entirely beautiful. I will feel fantastic in that outfit,”

Isis smiled and guided Emily to the floor length mirror. She had Emily put on the jacket, which, only a little bit big, very nearly fit. Then Isis pinned the pale, silky, sheer gray and delicate shell-pink fabric underneath the jacket and managed to mostly cover Emily's current outfit.

Emily took the earrings that Isis held out and turned to face Juliette. She modeled the very elegant ensemble that she felt totally in love with.

“That's you,” Juliette said. It was true. Emily was going to look smashing in the outfit.

Emily blushed happily and turned to look at herself in the mirror. Completely transformed, Emily admired her reflection. The shell-pink tones of the delicate and sheer fabric were reflected in the skin of her cheeks and made her look healthy and beautiful. She smiled at herself.

Delighted, Juliette and Isis clapped and whistled at her.

“You know,” Isis decided, “I think I might design a small couture collection; chic, sleek, elegant and modern, with a vintage style edge, for the contemporary business woman.”

“Now that is a brilliant idea,” replied Emily happily.

“It is,” Juliette agreed.

The three of them exchanged happy smiles and Isis realized that she was having the most fun that she'd had in months. It was even more fun than she'd had with Edwin in ages.

Her mind then filled with sketch ideas and concepts, thoughts of how she might do her mock-ups, notions of the textures, fabrics, and colors that she might include, she determined to use a limited palette. To her complete and utter joy she felt practically ecstatic and thoughts of Edwin, and of how much fun they'd had in the last six months, or otherwise, completely fled her mind.

O
UTSIDE OF VICTOR and Juliette's house, in the early morning, Edwin and Max sat in Max's car. Edwin rode shotgun.

“No judgment, guys, okay? I went through a phase. She's like a librarian type. She's kind of plain, average body,” Victor admitted. He was leaning in the driver's side window, obviously saying his piece, before the other two went off alone to do further research.

“Sexy librarian… so I loved a librarian,' Max sang.

Edwin laughed.

“I'm serious, dudes,” Victor added then asked, “How'd you find her?”

“Yoformerclassmates.com,” Edwin said.

“We got an address and everything,” Max added. He looked at his watch. They had to get this show on the road because he'd promised Emily that he would be home in time to pick up the little guy. Plus, although Edwin could sort of come and go as he pleased, due to his position, he knew that he had some meetings and such that were mandatory.

“Don't judge me if she's back living with her parents,” Victor said and grunted.

“Sure, man. Don't you have to get ready for work,” Max asked pointedly. Victor nodded and groaned, waved them away and they were off.

Inside of Max and Emily's home office, Emily worked at her desk.

Typing madly on the manuscript of their second book, the phone rang. Without checking the caller ID, she answered. Her cell phone chirped and beeped with incoming updates.

“Hello?” she said. “Oh, hi, Xavier is it? Sure, Leslie sent me the offer. No, I haven't. I need more time.” After another brief pause, she replied, “Great, thanks so much.” Then she hung up the phone.

Without missing a beat, in a flow writing state, she returned to typing as fast as she could as her cell phone social apps blew up with incoming likes, retweets and such.

Max drove through the suburbs, thumping the steering wheel of his car to the music playing softly. Edwin checked his email on his mobile phone.

“This whole thing is disheartening. I just hope that Victor somehow managed to give this one the Big “O,” or something close,” Max said.

“Uh, yeah, and just like with the game of horseshoes, there's no almost in pleasuring a woman. It's the Big “O" or nothing,” Edwin replied, never looking up from his phone.

Max nodded reluctantly. After driving an hour, the guys stopped for coffee and consulted the GPS in Edwin's phone.

“It's not far,” Edwin said. They got back in the car and Max resumed driving. Quite rapidly, the area transitioned from commercial to residential and then, to the surprise of both of them, the neighborhood rapidly became radically upscale.

As Max drove, Edwin sat up, visibly impressed by the fabulous subdivision of palatial estates that they had just entered. Manicured gardens surrounded 14,000-20,000 square feet houses.

“Dang,” Max finally said, “somebody has some real Ka-Ching!”

“Are you sure that this is this the right place?” Edwin asked and fiddled with his phone.

“So said the GPS,” Max replied and indicated the dashboard. Edwin double checked it and finally determined that the directions were indeed correct.

Moments later, the guys parked on a circular drive outside a fabulous house.

Edwin knocked on the door of what appeared to be Charlene Hanson's palatial home. An elegant elderly woman answered the door. Edwin and Max exchanged a look. Sure, it's her parent's place, Max thought to himself. She probably came from money. This place was very likely the family compound.

“Is your daughter, Charlene, home?” Max asked.

“I'm Mrs. Sherwood, Charlene's executive assistant,” the woman said in a clipped British accent and then indicated behind her, “this is Charlene.”

Edwin and Max gazed past her and gaped at the truly, beautiful blonde author, Charlene Hanson, last seen on Craig Ferguson, who approached them.

She was jaw-droppingly beautiful, fit, friendly, and obviously very happy, with long blonde hair.

She ushered them into her home office and asked Mrs. Sherwood to please bring them some tea. A short while later she was seated before them.

Max struggled to regain his composure.

He took a big sip of black tea and looked around the palatial home office of the woman. He tried to wrap his mind around the weird idea that Victor had boinked this lovely woman. Edwin seemed interested and alert. Max knew that he also must be totally surprised that Victor had scored with such a classy lady.

“Sex with Victor was life-changing,” Charlene said.

Max smiled, and nearly sighed with relief. Finally some good news. He didn't know what he'd do if he had to go back and tell Victor that it was official... he was shit in the sack and always had been. Damn, it was relief to hear Charlene's words.

He hoped Charlene would go into much greater detail about just how life-changing.

“He wasn't great in bed…” she continued.

Edwin didn't react, but Max was truly crestfallen. He felt positively glum to be hearing this and almost wished she'd throw them out.

“That's terrible,” Max said, after a long pause, when it appeared that no one else was going to say anything.

“No, it was really quite good for me,” Charlene added happily.

Surprised and pleased, they brightened up.

“So not great, but was he good?” Max inquired in what he hoped was a neutral tone of voice.

“A single Big “O,” or a couple?” Edwin asked, nonplussed, as if he asked that question of women every day.

“Oh, god, no, I had the worst sex of my life with Victor. He was truly awful. He was the most insensitive man I've ever known, in and out of bed… and crude. He swears like every third word, or used to…” she added.

The guys exchanged a look.

“…there was no coming with Victor, it was all going. He was a great negative motivator. It was the single most horrific sexual experience of my life,” Charlene said firmly.

Max couldn't help himself. He groaned. Edwin patted his arm to try and quiet him and Max managed to silence himself.

“After which I became a serious student of Tantra. Then I got board certified as a Clinical Sexologist, and Marriage and Family Therapist with a PhD in Clinical Sexology. Then I studied with Dr. Ruth,” Charlene added.

“You're a... “ Edwin asked incredulously then paused before spitting it out, “...a sex coach?”

“That's right,” Charlene replied.

“Wow. Just wow,” Max managed to get out when the other two looked at him expectantly, as if he had something valuable to offer to the conversation.

“Along the way, I became multi-orgasmic, met my future husband, married, and gave birth to twins,” she added and indicated a truly lovely portrait near her desk. She and her husband and twin boys made an especially gorgeous family.

“I created a biz brand, a series of products and services. I call it MOMW for short. Perhaps you've heard of my best-selling book, "The Multi-Orgasmic Married Woman?"

Max stared in shock at his nemesis, the author his editor was always throwing up to him, the person who bumped him from a TV gig.

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I have,” Max squeaked out.

“How's your business doing?” Edwin said nonchalantly.

“Happily, the MOM WOW brand did 7 figures each year, out of the last few years,” Charlene said.

The guys looked around. That explained the amazing house.

“Terrific. Is your husband part of your business?” Edwin asked.

“In addition to being the love of my life, the father of my boys, and my inspiration, he is also the world's best CFO and a primary reason that MOM WOW is so successful,” she replied.

Max felt like an utter failure hearing her words. This woman was gorgeous, her home was stunning, she was wildly successful, probably a great mom to not one but two little boys and she made her husband, “the love of her life,” completely happy. He felt positively ill that he was doing so poorly in life.

Edwin and Charlene made some further conversation but Max's head was pounding. He was seriously nauseated and it was all that he could do not to throw up his tea on her gorgeous silk, probably imported and obviously expensive, rug.

Edwin kindly drove back home as Max still felt quite ill. They shared an awkward silence.

“Guess she didn't mean Chief Fucking Officer. Her man must be a financial genius,” Max finally said, attempting to make light of the situation. He was so focused upon the fact that he had just met the gracious, beautiful, highly educated and passionate author, a real expert, whose book was kicking their book's ass, that he entirely forgot about Victor's problems.

“Yeah, impressive. So, now that we know the truth, we have to go back and make him face the truth,” Edwin replied in a dark tone.

Edwin's response brought Max's mind back to the reason that they had searched for, and found, Charlene Hanson to begin with and he found himself castigating himself further for not recognizing her from TV. He felt like an even bigger idiot.

“Right?” Edwin asked when Max didn't say anything.

“Yeah, but I can't be the one to tell Victor he is officially shit in the sack, according to the board certified Clinical Sexologist who actually did the deed with him,” Max said.

Edwin shrugged. He was already thinking about meetings and the office. Max drifted off into his own thoughts and it wasn't long before they were back in the city. They agreed to meet back up at Victor's in a couple of days.

Edwin sat in an over stuffed leather desk chair with the orange and golden fire of the late afternoon sun on the glass windows of his office behind. He dialed Isis.

Caught up in reading paperwork, it took him a while to realize that Isis hadn't answered.

Inside of her new office, former bedroom, Isis was in a creative trance, as she drew sketches, happily cut fabric, made swatches, and design sheets, while singing old show tunes. Her mobile phone rang. A glance at the caller ID revealed that it was Edwin.

She didn't pick up as she ecstatically created a design vision look book for her new clothing line.

Edwin looked at his phone and realized that it had gone to voice mail.

Inside of their kitchen, late in the evening, Emily made tea. Emily looked depressed and upset. Max walked in. He held a bunch of MOM WOW and other sex books and stuff.

“Is he down?” Max asked, feeling guilty that not only did he not pick his kid up but he also missed eating dinner with the family and putting little Max to bed. In fact, he hadn't even said goodnight to his son.

“Yes. Do you want tea?” Emily said, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Nah, I'm going out,” Max replied. Emily stared in shock. His revelation was shocking enough to bring her out of her numbness.

“You just got home and it's nine o'clock at night. What could you possibly have to do, that has to be done right now?” Emily asked incredulously.

“Research. I wanna grab some coffee, go to some diner that's open late and has WI-FI, so I can focus,” Max said.

“You were gone all day,” Emily said.

She stared at Max's head. What are you thinking, Max? she wondered to herself. Are you going to kiss your sleeping little boy goodnight?

“Yeah. Doing stuff with Edwin, okay?” Max said, beginning to get really irritated.

Why was his wife always such a nag? He looked at her. She looked like hell. She obviously hadn't showered that day. He frowned. Maybe she was depressed. Maybe she needed medication. He'd have to ask Dr. Charles about that, he decided.

“What?” Emily said. Max looked at her blankly.

“What stuff?” she clarified.

“Just stuff,” he said and turned and left the room.

“Why'd you bother coming home?” she whispered to the empty room.

Juliette was on the couch, typing furiously away on her laptop, surrounded by mountains of books and papers, as well as her mobile phone and a tablet.

Victor stood in the doorway watching silently. Juliette sighed imperceptibly and managed to ignore him. He stuck his lower lip out, and it was immediately easy to see the often-petulant little boy that Victor had been in childhood.

Juliette hardened her focus and her heart. One never knew what the future would bring but she would never leave Victor and her PhD would never leave her. He could pull his miserable, manipulative bullshit, and that's what it was, she figured, and she would deal. She wanted to be sweet and patient and loving but her deadline loomed.

She wanted to help him but now wasn't the time. He was the one with time and options. She wasn't his mommy. He'd have to figure it out himself. He wasn't some ancient tribesman trying to interpret the spiritual meaning of a celestial event.

There were sex and relationship books out there, for the love of Pete.

Clack. Clack. Clack. The tapping of her fingers on the keys, typing away madly, double-checking her thesis reference style form, soothed her and like a baby lulled to sleep she drifted away on words and the sounds that she made stringing those words into sentences in her mind.

The next time that she looked up, she realized that her husband was gone. She strained to hear the sounds from the other room and realized, with great relief, that her husband had gone back to watching TV.

Isis stared at her sketches and swatches and a few very-nearly-finished mock ups and the outfits that were complete. She was terribly excited.

In fact, she was overly excited. It was weird to think that she almost had the makings of a teensy baby fashion collection. She stopped finishing a design in order to update her social networks with little anecdotes, close-up photos of textured, colored, fabrics and notions, little fragments of sketches, all linking back to her web-site.

A fast learner, Emily had taken a couple of hours to show her how to use a web-template, upload images, and even add blog posts. It was all so energizing. She flipped from thing to thing and a moment later, no longer second-guessing about being so close to the finish line, she began to sew again.

Her cell phone rang and, seeing that it was Edwin, she ignored it. She'd texted him back a couple of times today and let him know that she was having an early night.