Obscure

Saturday afternoon - garage-cleaning day. I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the clammy concrete floor when Natalie hollered for me to come into the house. I wiped my hands and rushed in to see what she wanted. I found my wife sitting in the breakfast nook with her best friend, Laura. "Yes, honey?" I asked her as I humbly approached them.

Natalie crinkled up her nose and turned to Laura. "I hate it when he calls me 'honey.'" Without warning, my wife whipped around toward me and cocked her palm back back as if she were going to slap me. I instinctively cringed, but the blow never came. Laura busted out giggling. Natalie let her hand dangle in the air while I cowered before her. She looked at her friend and shook her head. "Pathetic."

Natalie peered over the brim of her glass at me, her eyes a study in mischief. With great dramatics, she loudly sipped the last of her drink. "Brian, I don't want you using those dirty little terms of endearment in front of guests!" she chided. "You've simply got to stop calling me 'honey' - it's embarrassing! Why, you're gonna make Laura here think that I actually care about you or something! "And besides," she added with an impish glint, "if you keep it up, you're gonna make Luke jealous!" That made Laura laugh even harder.

Natalie held out her glass. "Refill," she said regally. "Laura's, too." Off I dashed to fetch my wife and her friend fresh glasses of iced tea. They were engaged in conversation when I returned with the refreshments, so after I served the drinks, I took the hint and retreated to the garage to continue my cleaning. Cleaning the garage is one of my least-favorite duties. I have to thoroughly scrub it down every Saturday, whether it needs it or not. Usually it doesn't even need cleaning. I mean, how dirty can a garage get when you clean it once a week? But that's Luke's rule. One time I forgot to clean the garage floor after I washed his car, and he slipped on some soap suds. After he beat me severely, he ordained that from then on I was to clean the garage every single week. Oh, well. So it has been written... so it shall be done. At least that's the way it goes around here.

I have to follow all kinds of crazy rules like that. Some of them just don't make any sense. For instance, Natalie insists that I color-coordinate all her clothes when I hang them up in the closet! It takes a lot of extra time to do it that way - but that's the way Little Miss Priss wants it. And Luke has an idiosyncrasy I'm still trying to get used to: he absolutely HATES for a television to be left on when nobody's in the room. I don't know why this bugs him so much, but I can't tell you how many times he's slapped me in the face (or worse) because the TV was left on. I can be out mowing the lawn and they'll be inside watching television - but if they end up leaving the room, eventually Luke is going to notice the TV and get pissed. With all the chores I have to do, it's impossible to keep a constant eye on the TV situation too. But, oh well. So it has been written... It took about an hour to finish up in the garage. Luke was out golfing, so I'd have to wait till tomorrow to wash his car - and then I'd have to clean up the garage again when I was done! I sighed as I put the bucket and scrub-brush away. Off to go do the laundry now. My work is never done... I was separating the whites from the colors when Natalie called for me.

I found her lounging in the living room watching television. Laura apparently had gone home. "Brian, Luke will be back soon, and I want to surprise him," she said. "Hurry up and put the scented candles in the bedroom, and then go iron my white baby-doll. I'll be in the shower. Go!" I rushed around like a madman trying to make everything perfect before Luke returned from his golf outing. As instructed, I lit two lilac-scented candles and put them on the nightstand. Then I lowered the lights and tuned their stereo to the cool jazz station they like to listen to when they're making "boom-boom," as they call it. After I turned their bedroom into the perfect little love nook, I carefully ironed my wife's sexy baby-doll. It was silk so I had to set the iron on low, which made it harder to get the wrinkles out. When everything was finished, I reported to Natalie in the master bathroom. She was standing naked in front of the mirror applying her makeup. She was really putting it on heavy today! She looked like a tart! If only her co-workers at the firm could see her now! The famous No-Nonsense Assistant Prosecutor was painting herself up like a common street whore! I rubbed lotion on her legs and butt while she continued doing her makeup. After Natalie was all dolled up, I helped her into her freshly-ironed nightie. Then she walked into the adjoining bedroom and opened up her dresser drawer. Pulling out a pen and a piece of stationery, she scrawled a quick note:

Tiger-bear: I'm waiting for you in the bedroom. Meow! Come and get it!

"Tiger-bear." That's Natalie's pet name for Luke - "Because he's part Siberian tiger and part grizzly bear," she once told me. Every time she calls him that it makes my skin crawl. Neither of them seem to notice, though. After Natalie finished writing, she planted a perfect lipstick kiss on the bottom of the note. She then instructed me to go kneel by the front door and hold the note between my teeth. "And you better not slobber all over my note, creep - or I'll tell Luke to bust your ass!" she added as I was leaving the room. I felt ridiculous as I knelt in the foyer with Natalie's love note dangling out of my mouth. It was difficult to hold the paper between my teeth without getting it wet. And my knees were beginning to ache from kneeling on the uneven flagstone floor... I stayed in that position for about 15 minutes before Luke finally came home. As soon as he spotted me, his face broke into a wide smile. He snatched the note from my mouth and scanned it, his shit-eating grin getting larger every second. Without a word, he crumpled up the letter, tossed it to the floor, then made a bee-line upstairs to the bedroom. I leaned over and sadly picked up the balled-up piece of paper. I opened it and looked at my wife's smeared lipstick print: a kiss that wasn't meant for me... ...but I can always pretend...

I raised the piece of paper slowly up to my lips and tenderly kissed my darling wife's painted mouth...and then she put her arms around me...and I could feel her breath in my ear... A loud moan from upstairs snapped me out of my impossible dream. It sounded like Luke was killing her up there - he must've really put it in deep that time! I knew she was horny tonight, but she sounded like a damned alley-cat! Her piercing wails of, "Oh, God! Oh, my God!" seemed to go on forever, and I wondered if the neighbors could hear. I doubt if Natalie even cared. Finally, I heard her reach her climax, and then all was quiet again. I waited with my ears pricked. They usually call for me right after they have sex.

"Briiiiiaaaaaaannnnn!" Sure enough, my wife was hollering for me. They probably wanted something to drink. I rushed up the stairs to find out. "Bring us both a glass of wine, Brian," she said as soon as I opened the door. They're so predictable!

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