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Mary Tompkins David Haight
Pulling the visor down, Ben rounded Little Blue Lake. His eyes ached and it felt late but the sun was rising. He squeezed the top of his head in a vain attempt to dull the pounding and peered into the rearview mirror. His wife Allison was crammed into the backseat of the squad car staring over the gray water. She had refused to get into the front seat. Neither had spoken since they had left Mary Beth’s house. They had arrived earlier the previous evening expecting dinner and had ended it by having sex with Mary Beth and her longtime boyfriend, Eric. The image of Mary Beth’s naked form was tattooed upon Ben’s mind. He had crept up the darkened hallway to the door and listened. He felt ludicrous standing there, about to knock and ask what he was about to ask, when it opened. She was something his wife wasn’t: statuesque and confident (even defiant) her beautiful elegant form filling the entire doorway. All he could make out was the screaming whiteness of her flesh against the void of light behind her, her slightly tossed hair (like a present that had just begun being opened) and triangle of accusatory black pubic hair. She focused her eyes upon him like a bird of prey and waited. “Allison and I were wondering if you guys wanted some company.” Thinking of it now he still couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. She peered over her shining shoulder into the darkened room. It was clear she was seeking Eric’s mutual consent. Amazingly he heard Eric’s gruff voice respond eagerly, “Absolutely.” This is what he remembered as he drove, the image of Mary Beth naked, tall, eyes and nipples focused on him, inviting him and Allison into her bedroom and Allison’s expectant eyes when he burst back into their room. Glancing back at his wife and the sullen expression frozen on her face it was obvious she regretted setting aside their vows. He wasn’t surprised. Allison had always been pathologically monogamous. On their first date they ended up back at his apartment on his sagging couch kissing. He thought he had a shot at fucking her when she moved his hand up under her shirt. When he maneuvered her hand between his legs she pulled back with horror as if his zipper was electrified. He considered asking her to leave and never calling her again. A few minutes later, just after midnight they had sex. It turned out she had broken up with her boyfriend earlier that day and wouldn’t sleep with him until 12:01. That was what made her desire to join Mary Beth and Eric so striking. He rounded the fog covered lake. The highway straightened itself out. “Where are you going?” Allison asked, rocketing forward, grabbing the back of Ben’s seat. Ben was startled and nearly jerked the car into the ditch. “Jesus, Allie.” 7