Wednesday night, 9pm. The kids were asleep, and it was now time for Wyatt and Scarlett's weekly scheduled sexual encounter. Scarlett, on her back - her thighs wrapped around Wyatt's hips - was moaning loudly into the sock she'd stuffed in her mouth, while Wyatt worked as best as he could to keep her happy. She gripped the sock, removed it and started talking.
"Come on, come on, give it to me," Scarlett whispered sensually, winking up at him. "Give what to you?" Wyatt asked, grunting, sweat running down his forehead. "You know what," she replied. "I...wha...a...a venereal disease?" Wyatt asked, squinting, making Scarlett crack up. She started laughing so hard that she pushed him off of her and rolled onto her side, doubling over in laughter. Wyatt rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his feet up on the pillow near her head. He smirked, and rested his hands on his chest as she rolled back onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, running her nails up his leg next to her head. "Do you remember the first time we had sex?" Scarlett asked, and Wyatt nodded. "Yeah, I do," he said, "that was my first time. I was nervous because you were so beautiful, and I didn't wanna ruin your makeup." "Awww, you're so dorky," Scarlett said, chuckling and kissing his ankle. Wyatt turned and climbed up, lying beside her, running his hands through her reddish blonde hair, losing his fingers in its depth as he looked in her eyes. "I still worry about that," he said quietly. "Really?" she asked. "Yeah, you always look so perfect," Wyatt said, "I just...don't wanna ruin that." He shut his eyes and rested, as Scarlett stared at his face. This face she'd seen every single day for the last 15 years almost. So familiar, so comforting. She didn't know what she'd do if she had to face even a single day without his face in her presence. She buried her face into his neck and pulled his arms around her. He squeezed her gently, and she smiled. Scarlett Bloom had it really good. The following morning, Wyatt was sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper. His almost 11 year old daughter was sitting at the table, tapping her spoon on her cereal bowl, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. He sighed, lowered the newspaper and looked at her. "Alright, what?" he finally asked. "I'm tired of cereal," Mona said, "I want something different." "Well there's an entire pantry of breakfast food in the kitchen, just pick something," Wyatt said, "Have a poptart if you want." "Mommy won't let me have poptarts for breakfast, she says they're too sugary," Mona said, sitting back and crossing her arms in annoyance. Wyatt glanced at her, his brow furrowing, as he leaned forward. "Really?" he asked, making her nod; he looked towards the staircase, knowing Scarlett was in the shower, before looking back at his daughter and adding, "well, mom's not in charge of breakfast today. I am, and I think poptarts are on the menu." Mona squealed, then raced from the table to the kitchen. Wyatt smiled to himself as he went back to reading his paper and sipping his coffee. Scarlett hurried down the stairs about 10 minutes later, drying her hair with a towel as she kissed Mona's head, who was by then seated back at the table eating her poptart. Scarlett patted Wyatt on the shoulder and leaned down beside him. "Evan isn't feeling well," she said. "Does he have a fever?" "Yeah, so I'm thinking if you'll run Mona into school on your way into work, I can stay behind and look over him," Scarlett said. Wyatt nodded and kissed her hand, telling Mona to finish her poptart and get her backpack. As he piled his daughter and himself into the car, Wyatt couldn't help but look around his small, safe neighborhood and exhale deeply as he watched a long line of other parents - all of whom looked exactly like him and Scarlett, who lived in houses just like theirs, with children just like theirs - do the same thing. Was this all there was to life after school? Wyatt climbed into the car and started it up, fastening his seatbelt, waiting for Mona to buckle hers before he pulled out of the driveway. He dropped Mona off at school, waited until he saw her get indoors, and then headed downtown towards the office. When he showed up, he headed straight for his office, mostly so he could check his messages, but as soon as he was inside, he heard his secretary knocking lightly on the door as she entered, a bad habit he'd yet to break her of. He smiled up at her as she walked in cautiously. "Sir, Peterson is in Conference Room B, and says he needs you to join him," she said, "there's a guest here to see you two." "...a guest?" Wyatt asked, confused, "alright sure, thank you Winona." Wyatt checked his work messages, made a quick phone call and then headed down the hall to conference room b. Upon entrance, he was surprised not just to find Peterson looking worried, but also to see their guest, sitting there calmly as could be...none other than Celia Moss. *** Scarlett had never in her life expected to be a stay at home mom. She had never really given up on the idea of being a parent, in fact she'd always assumed she would be, but she also had never really counted on being the kind of parent who stayed home and took care of the kids, and more the kind of parent who paid someone to do that sort of work while she went to a high profile business somewhere. But once she had the kids, she found she didn't really trust anyone to watch the kids other than herself and her husband. Well, and their usual babysitter. Evan was napping, having taken some cold medicine, so Scarlett might have been playing "stay at home mom", but she found today she had quite a bit of alone time on her hands. She figured she'd tidy up the house a bit, and maybe get some reading done. Lately she'd been reading awful romance novels, mostly because she didn't seem to have the concentration for anything more genuine, but it was good enough for the time being. Lying on the couch, baby monitor on the coffee table beside her, Scarlett was chewing on her lip as she read when she heard a knock at the door. Scarlett was somewhat surprised, as she hadn't been expecting anyone. Nonetheless, she got up and went to answer it, only to find Wyatt's mom on the porch. "Oh," Scarlett said, genuinely unprepared to see her, "Priscilla, what are you doing here?" "I actually need to borrow your sewing machine," Priscilla said, "if that's okay. I'm trying to alter some curtains I've been working on, and mine jammed up. I remember you used to make Mona's Halloween costumes when she was little, and so I figured-" She heard a little moan come from the baby monitor and glanced at it, then back at Scarlett. "Is someone here?" she whispered. "It's Evan, he doesn't feel well, and you don't have to whisper, he can't hear you through it," Scarlett said, trying not to laugh, "and yeah, you can absolutely use my sewing machine. Come in. I'll have to dig it out, it's in the garage at the moment because I haven't used it in ages." Priscilla followed Scarlett further into the house, and through the kitchen to the door that led into the garage. Scarlett put her book down on the kitchen table before entering the garage, and Priscilla stole a quick glance at it the book before following Scarlett into the garage. "Everything okay between you two?" Priscilla asked. "What?" Scarlett asked as she dragged a small stepladder to a shelf and started climbing it. "In my experience the only women who read awful romance novels are the ones who are unsatisfactorily pleased with their marriage," Priscilla said, making Scarlett laughed. "No, god, it's just something to waste some time in," Scarlett said, "Wyatt and I are perfectly fine. I would like to get back to reading more complex literature, I just...I don't have the time or patience, and I'm always so fried after being with the kids, so I just don't have a very good attention span anymore. This at least keeps my hobby alive in some way, so maybe one day I can get to the stuff I actually wanna read." "You won't," Priscilla said, surprising Scarlett, who - while gripping her sewing machine and trying to scoot it towards her off the shelf - looked over her shoulder at her mother in law, a grimace on her face. "What?" "You won't ever get to it," Priscilla said, "you'll lose all your hobbies. I did. Every woman does. We like to pretend we don't, maybe by keeping them alive vicariously through our children, but in the end we're all just moms and nothing else. It sounds hopelessly depressing, I know, but you get used to it. Just be glad you and Wyatt still like one another. That's more than most couples have." "Uh, thanks for the concern," Scarlett said, climbing down the stepladder and handing her the sewing machine now, "but I still have hobbies and I don't intend to lose them simply because I chose to pop out a few kids. I was having problems concentrating on reading well before I had children." "I'm just letting you know what happened to me, and so many of my friends," Priscilla said, taking the sewing machine, then asking, "when do you need this back?" "You know what, why don't you keep it for a while," Scarlett said with a smile. Anything to keep Priscilla from coming back anytime soon. *** "I'm representing a nature conservation society, specifically one interested in defending the rights of an endangered insect, whose main habitat just happens to be where you're interested in logging, leveling and constructing on soon," Celia said, opening a file and sliding two pieces of paper - both identical - to Peterson and Wyatt. Wyatt took the paper and started skimming it, his lips reading silently; Celia continued, "We're willing to not move forward with court proceedings, granted you give us adequate time to perhaps relocate enough of the species." "...that sounds fair," Wyatt said, surprising Peterson, who looked at him in near disbelief. Wyatt had been brought onto the board at his young age because he was a shark, and he often took these kinds of people to town for the sake of the company, saving them face. "I figured you'd understand," Celia said, smiling, "We'll have another proposal ready for you in a few weeks. I have to get going, your firm is one of the few I have to stop at today and serve papers to." Celia stood up, pulling her purse onto her shoulder, as Wyatt quickly stood up and followed her out of the room. "Let me walk you to the elevator," Wyatt said. Wyatt and Celia headed down the hallway, and stopped at the elevator, where Wyatt pushed a button, calling it to their floor. "I didn't know you worked here," Celia said after a moment, "believe me, this didn't give me some kind of perverse pleasure or anything. Honestly, if anything it just made me feel worse, because after our talk at the reunion, you don't seem like the kind of person whose out for oil and industry." "I'm honestly, not, I only have the job I have because my father was friends with the chairman," Wyatt replied, "and it pays well, and I have to make good money to afford to take care of two kids and a wife, so. You ever think about the irony in your last name associated with your line of work?" Celia chuckled, nodding as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside; she pushed the main floor button and said, "Actually yes, all the time, it's one of the few things people realize about me pretty quickly. You know, your last name is Bloom, that could also work well in my line of work, given how much effort we put into saving flora and fauna." "Heh, yeah, sure, but I can't just switch careers at the drop of a dime," Wyatt said, "it would raise too many eyebrows, and in the suburbs you need to remain as unremarkable and disinteresting as possible to your neighbors, otherwise you run the risk of their kids alienating your kids, which in turn makes your kids hate you." Celia suddenly pushed the emergency stop button and turned towards Wyatt. She started digging through her purse and pulled out a card, handing it to him. "This is my personal business card. Call me when you find yourself sick of the suburbs, the fake plasticity of it all, and decide you wanna do something more with your life. And believe me, that moment will come. Ignoring your dissatisfaction only gets you so far, trust me on that." Wyatt slipped the card into his back pants pocket and looked at her, confused. "...do you have kids, Celia?" "Yeah, a son," she replied, hitting the button so the elevator would continue its decline. "So you know what it's like to do something you dislike so your kids can have a good life then?" Wyatt asked and Celia, not looking at him, bit her lip. "I did," she said, "before I left my husband. Women put up with a lot when they're married, and almost always silently and alone. You and Scarlett seem happy, but trust me, she's grappling with it too. Eventually everyone wants something a little more than what they have, even if what they have feels perfect. Contrary to popular belief, perfection isn't unattainable, but it is unsustainable." The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Celia looked at Wyatt and smiled again. "See you soon," Celia said, shaking his hand before leaving. *** When Wyatt got home that evening, having stopped off to bring dinner in, he found Scarlett lying facedown on the couch in the living room, her face muffled against a pillow. He set his briefcase and then the bag full of food on the coffee table before standing and looking down at her. "You okay, mopey?" he asked. "Do you think I'm anything other than a mom? Do you still see me as a person?" Scarlett asked, and Wyatt sat down on the arm on the couch, running his hand up her back. "Of course I do," he said, "what makes you think you're not?" "Your mom," Scarlett said, somewhat muffled by the pillow. "Well okay, you don't have to tell me, but insults from the early 2000s doesn't help," Wyatt said, making her laugh. "No, literally, your mother," Scarlett said, rolling her head to the side so her face was visible now, looking up at him, "she stopped by today to borrow my sewing machine and she told me how she and all her peers just exist in the shadow of their former selves. How all women eventually lose who they were, lose their hobbies and interest, and just...are nothing but mothers." "Yeah well, my mother might not be the best voice of reason when it comes to how women turn out. After all, she she bought into the whole spandex exercise tape fad of the 80s, so," Wyatt said, "Anyone who fell for that automatically loses their credibility in my eyes." Scarlett sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, sniffling, smiling at him. "What did you bring for dinner?" "Thai food, and I brought you a box of eclairs," Wyatt said softly, kissing her nose. "The kids are asleep," Scarlett said, "Do you wanna eat down here and talk about our respective days?" "That sounds disgustingly wholesome," Wyatt said, chuckling, "I would love to do that." So Wyatt and Scarlett bloom ate their dinner, and their desserts, and they talked about their day. Scarlett told Wyatt all about his mothers visit, about how she and Evan eventually read some storybooks when he was feeling better, and Wyatt told her about his day at work, which was fairly uneventful. But he didn't tell her about Celia. For whatever reason, a reason even he himself couldn't fathom, that was something he wanted to keep to himself. And Celia, that night, was reading her son his favorite bedtime story. Once he fell asleep, she turned on his motion lamp that threw lighted silhouettes of dinosaurs on the walls of his bedroom. She kissed his head and then headed to her own bedroom. She got into her pajamas and climbed into her bed, picking up a book from her nightstand and flipping to her bookmarked section. But she couldn't read. She found herself increasingly distracted by the idea of working with Wyatt. No, she thought, no. The last thing she needed to complicate her life was romance with a married man. She'd worry about that another day.
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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