"Obscure," Part 6 (MmF, wimp husband)
by c.w. cobblestone

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
mischeif. 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
seperating 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!


NEXT STOP: CHAPTER SEVEN! COMING SOON TO YOUR LOCAL NEWSSTAND!
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