Chapter 20: Domination

“Good shit, man!” said Marcia Blockings, her voice sounding strangled as she attempted to talk and keep from exhaling at the same time. She took another quick puff from the joint and passed it over to her brother Rusty.

“Mmmm,” he agreed nonverbally as he inhaled loudly. The joint seemed to almost disappear as it burned away, the potent smoke filling the young man’s lungs. Finished, he passed it along to his brother, Jeremy, whose eyes were closed as he lay back in the lawn chair, zoned out. Rusty had to nudge him alive before Jeremy cracked an eyelid and took it from his fingers.

“Where’d you get it?” asked Marcia.

“You know, around,” replied Rusty. He had taken his brother’s admonition to be discreet to heart, even when they weren’t talking about girls.

Marcia grabbed the joint from Jeremy and took another hit. “Where’s it from?” She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small alligator clip and clipped it to the joint to use as a roach clip.

“Who the fuck knows?” replied Rusty.

“Who the fuck cares?” commented Jeremy.

“Just asking,” said Marcia, not taking offense. “Good shit,” she repeated.

The three Blockings teenagers were lounging in the far end of their back yard, away from any prying eyes, sitting back in fold-up lawn chairs. They were dressed alike in gym shorts and t-shirts. Ever since their parents’ marriage had gone into meltdown the three had begun bonding much more strongly. In some families, a divorce could blow things apart, driving children away from each other; for Rusty, Jeremy, and Marcia it had brought them closer together.

Marcia passed the roach along and leaned back in the webbing of her lawn chair, eyes closed and covered with Oakley shades anyway. “So, any more word on the home front? Heard anything from Dad lately?”

Jeremy opened his eyes and looked over at his sister, shrugging. “Fuck if I know. I talked to him the other day, on the phone, but he doesn’t say nothing. All you get out of him is that he is away on business.”

“Yeah, right,” commented Rusty, passing the final stub of the roach over. Jeremy inhaled as much of the smoke as he could and then stuffed the smoldering stub in a metal candy tin for storage. A few more roaches and he could make himself a more powerful ‘second generation’ joint.

“Yeah, that’s kind of what Mom says, like we’re too stupid to know what’s going on,” agreed Marcia.

“What caused Dad to leave, anyway?” asked Rusty.

“Fuck if I know. It happened right after that big party over at the Tallmans’. Something must have happened that night. Something bad,” answered his brother.

“You think Dad got caught with another woman? Mom with another guy? Oooh, yuck!” said Marcia.

Jeremy snorted in derision. “Oooh, yuck is right! Nah, it was after. Didn’t you see Dad in the wheelbarrow?” The other two looked over at him curiously, and he explained what he had seen in the back yard that night late. He had come back from a late-night party too stoned and fucked out to care and had left his father sleeping it off. “I think he and Mom got into it big time after that and she threw him out.”

Rusty asked, “So what’s with this weekend? Are they getting together again or something?” The three kids had all been asked to stay with some friends for the weekend. It was Friday afternoon and after their dates they were going directly to friends’ houses to stay the weekend.

“No fucking idea? Maybe Mom’s got somebody coming over for the weekend? Maybe she’s the one been fucking around on Dad? I wonder if it’s a guy or a girl?” commented Marcia.

“Give me a fucking break!” interjected Jeremy.

“Well, shit! You don’t think Dad’s fucking around, do you? Who’d do him?” said Marcia disgustedly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a little Altoids tin, opening it and pulling out a fat joint of her own. “Columbian,” she said. Her brothers watched curiously as she lit it up and inhaled a lungful of pungent and powerful smoke. She passed it to her brother. “So, you two still banging old lady Cummings?”

Rusty was too surprised to answer, though he did start coughing. Jeremy rescued the joint before his brother could drop it. “Whatever are you talking about?” he asked coolly. He took a big hit and passed it back.

Rusty was amazed at his older brother’s coolness. Nothing bothered the guy! He tried to emulate him and looked over at Marcia with the best poker face he could manage.

Marcia laughed. “Get real! I know the two of you are banging her! I mean, she’s pretty good looking for an older woman, but still! Can’t get any high school trim?”

“So, you like Mrs. Cummings?” riposted Jeremy. “Is it true that you like girls more than guys?”

Marcia laughed and wagged a finger at her brother. “No, no, no! You don’t get off that easy. What’s the story on the two of you with Mrs. Cummings? Tell the truth.”

“We just do a few errands for her,” replied Rusty, glancing over at Jeremy. How in the world did Marcia find out?

Marcia snorted loudly. “Hey guys, I don’t care that you’re fucking her. I just want to know - do you do her at the same time or do you take turns?”

“You know, that’s pretty personal and pretty rude, too. Do we ask you about your girlfriends?” asked Jeremy. “Besides, what in the world makes you think we are ... uh, friendly ... with Mrs. Cummings?”

“You can see a lot of shit from up in my room. I’ve seen you two going over there to ‘help’ her out for an hour or two and coming back smelling like the backseat of a car after a Saturday night date. Anyway, I don’t care if you ask me about my friends, guys or girls, so what’s the big deal?”

“So, it’s still rude and personal. If I was seeing a lady, no matter who she was or how old or what grade, I still wouldn’t tell anyone about it.”

“Yeah? Well, like I said, I don’t really care about the two of you boinking old lady Cummings. I’m just curious about the details. You guys do threeways with her?”

Rusty was staring at his sister. “Do you do threeways?”

Marcia shrugged. “No, but I’ve never really had the chance. Either guys or girls. Might like to try.”

“I sure hope that wasn’t an offer, because I don’t think I’ve sunk that low yet,” Rusty answered.

For once in the conversation Marcia was at a loss for words. Her mouth gaped open, and her jaw moved for a moment before she started laughing. “Jesus Christ! You really had me going there! Oh shit! No way, man, that is definitely not an invitation!” All three laughed at her reaction to her brother’s surprise comeback.

It was Jeremy’s turn to pull a joint out of a candy tin. His was from the same supplier his younger brother used, a classmate he had introduced Rusty to. “So, do you prefer guys or girls?”

“I love cock, but girls really know how to do it right. Nobody can eat pussy like a girl.”

“Going out tonight? Who’s the lucky girl?” asked Rusty. It was Friday and the three were getting high before going out.

“Lucky guy. Steve Westphal.”

“Just how lucky does Steve get?” quizzed Jeremy.

“Steve gets very lucky. We’re going to a real restaurant and then he swears he knows this really isolated place where we can spread a blanket out with nobody for miles around and he really knows how to eat pussy. He gets very, very lucky tonight!”

“TMI, Marcia, TMI,” came from Rusty. Way too much information he thought to himself.

“Oh yeah? So how lucky are you getting lately? Still dating what’s her name? Trish Conforte? Getting any from her?”

“No, I’m going out with her sister, Amy, and she’s a very nice girl.” With an amazing set of tits and a real talent for blowjobs, thought Rusty. He had dated Trish a few times and gotten nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. Her fraternal twin sister Amy had come up to him in the hallway and told him that Trish was nothing but a cocktease and that she, Amy, thought Trish was treating him terribly, and that she, Amy, thought Rusty was very cute and maybe deserved something better. She had said this while leaning close and letting him look down her low-cut top and smiling coyly. It hadn’t taken long for Rusty to ask her out and get very lucky that first night. No, Amy was definitely not a cocktease!

“So, she any good in the sack? She’s awfully cute! I wouldn’t mind doing her myself.”

“TMI, TMI!”

Marcia and Jeremy laughed as Rusty blushed. The three finished off the last joint, the roach joining its brothers in Jeremy’s tin, then they got to their feet and headed inside to clean up and dress before their dates.

Barbara Blockings went to dinner at a small diner on her way home that evening. She wanted to get home after the children had left, so they wouldn’t ask her any questions, questions that she couldn’t answer, because she didn’t have the answers. Questions about when their father was coming home, or if he was ever coming home. She had stopped at the diner and stared at the menu blankly, then got up and left without ordering anything. Her stomach was churning so badly she felt like throwing up.

It was both better and worse once she got home. She had called Jerry at his office and left him a voicemail to be at the house at seven. She had gotten a confirmation on her answering machine. It was all so clean and antiseptic and robotic, so impersonal. The tension became too much. At half past six her stomach had betrayed her, and Barbara was forced to run to the downstairs bathroom, to vomit out the remains of her lunch. She hunkered down over the toilet for a few minutes more, crying to herself, and then wiped her mouth and stood up.

She ran upstairs and brushed her teeth and changed her clothing. For once, she didn’t want to dress in anything he might find appealing. After months and months of trying to look attractive to her husband, she absolutely didn’t want to tonight. No skirt or dress, but slacks and a loose knit top. Low heeled sandals. No jewelry, no makeup.

Back downstairs, she looked at herself in the mirror over the living room buffet. She felt very nervous and knelt down. Opening the side cabinet, she reached in and pulled out a half-empty bottle of vodka. Taking it to the kitchen, she poured herself a small glass of Dutch courage, trying to calm her nerves. She coughed as she downed the harsh liquor and debated a second when she heard the doorbell ring. Turning, she stared into the living room, then opened the pantry and hid the bottle.

Wiping sweaty palms on the seat of her slacks, she walked slowly to the front door and opened it. Jerry was standing there, looking as nervous as his wife. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” she responded, not moving to open the screen door.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

Barbara started, as she realized she was leaving her husband standing on the front steps where the entire neighborhood could see them. “Yeah, sorry.” She stepped back, opening the door for him. “Sorry about that, come on in.”

Jerry stepped inside, closing the doors behind him, but didn’t step beyond the foyer. “Thank you. You look good Barbara. I’ve missed you.”

Suddenly everything that she had learned about her husband in the last few weeks came crashing back. The reason she had thrown him out, what she had learned from the lawyer and the private investigator. She had been as nervous as a teenager on a first date, but no longer. Now it was time for business. “Let’s sit down.”

Jerry didn’t know why his wife had suddenly grown colder; it was as if she had just entered a deep freeze. He followed her into the living room and sat on the couch. Barbara selected an armchair across from the coffee table. “How are the kids? Are they here?”

“They’re staying with friends this weekend. I didn’t want them here for this conversation.”

“This conversation?” Jerry really didn’t like the sound of that!

“I didn’t want our children to hear when I tell their father that I am filing for a divorce.” Pulling some papers off the end table, she tossed them onto the coffee table in front of her husband.

Jerry stared at the legal documents on the coffee table. He refused to pick them up, but he could see a lawyer’s letterhead on one, and something official looking, like from a court, on another. His mouth opened and shut a couple of times as he tried to form words, then he lifted his head to look at his wife. She was calmly watching him. “Divorce? Honey, why? I mean, okay, I had a little too much to drink that night after the party, but a divorce?”

“You stupid fucking asshole! A little too much to drink? Your neighbors wheeled you home in a wheelbarrow, and the next morning you puked and peed yourself! Your children saw you the next day! Is that what you want them to think of you? A little too much to drink? Jesus, Jerry, how much is a lot too much?” She jumped up and stalked away from him, stopping at the buffet, where she leaned on it, breathing heavily, and staring at her reflection.

Jerry shook his head and followed her. This wasn’t working out so great. He had been hoping she was going to allow him to come home. That certainly didn’t seem to be the case! “Come on, Barb, okay, so I got drunk at a party. That happens to people. That doesn’t mean we get a divorce. Hey, you’ve gotten drunk at parties, too, you know.” He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder.

She whirled to face her husband, knocking his hand away. “You son of a bitch! Do you think I care about the party? Jesus Christ, you asshole! What about Mistress Domina, huh? What about her? You bastard!”

The blood drained from her husband’s face as his jaw dropped open. “Wha ... wha ... what?”

“You bastard! For two years you haven’t touched me, but you spend money on whores? You goddamned son of a bitch!” Barbara turned to face him and swung her arm to slap her husband in the face.

It was like a dam had broken in the woman. Cursing her husband for leaving her alone at nights while he fucked whores, she tried to hit and slap him. Jerry managed to avoid most of the blows, infuriating her further. Screaming in rage, she moved towards him and tried to knee him in the groin but was only partially successful, hitting him hard in the upper thigh as he turned away. It was enough of a distraction for her next swing to get through, and a surprised Jerry felt the sudden sting to his face and twisted away, to trip over his own feet. He crashed face first into an end table, which collapsed beneath him.

“Jesus, Barb,” he said, staring up at her wild eyes.

Barbara stared down at her husband on the floor and saw that his nose was bleeding profusely. It was running down his face and was about to hit the carpet. “Shit! Come on, let’s get off the carpet. You’re bleeding.” She stepped back and moved to the doorway to the kitchen. Jerry put a hand to his face and stared at the red wetness in disbelief. “Well, come on, you’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”

Jerry scrambled to his feet, holding his nose. “Yeah, well, you’re the one who stuck me.”

“And you’re a pig, so we’re even. Come on, let’s clean you up.” She led her husband in the kitchen and pointed him to one of the kitchen chairs. Jerry slumped down in the chair, blooding dripping down his face and through his fingers. Barbara simply shook her head in disbelief and grabbed a clean washcloth. It took several trips to wipe away the blood as she ordered him to hold his head back and pinch the bridge of his nose. After a few minutes the blood flow had stopped. “There, I think that’s better. How’s it feel?”

“Uh, okay, I guess. Is it broken?”

“Jerry, you are such a pussy! If it was broken, you’d know!”

Her husband gave her a dirty look. “Just knock it off, please.” He gingerly explored his nose, pinching and moving it gently. “I’ve never busted my nose, so how would I know. I’ve busted an arm and a leg before, but never a nose.”

Barbara slumped down at the kitchen table to the right of her husband, at the end. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry Jerry. I didn’t mean to bust your nose. Or maybe I did, I mean, you just pissed me off so much! But I really didn’t want to hurt you.” Jerry nodded in understanding. “Jesus, Jerry, how in the hell did we get to this point?”

“I don’t know. Can we talk about it? Not just yell, scream, and hit but talk?” he asked.

“I don’t know if it will change anything.”

“We have to start somewhere,” he insisted.

Barbara nodded again. “Alright, but I am not making any promises. You have no possible idea how much you have hurt me. I have filed for a divorce. I have a lawyer and a private eye and God knows who else working on this.”

Jerry’s face went ash white. “You are really serious about this?”

Barbara felt the rage build up again, and it took almost a minute to bring it back under control. “Let’s be clear on this, Jerry. I’m not the one who threw this marriage away. I’m not the one who lied to his spouse, I’m not the one who never touched their spouse for two years while hiring whores. Just what the fuck were you thinking?”

Jerry started crying, the tears running down his cheeks to mix with the lingering traces of blood to form a pink sheen. He lowered his face to his hands and wept for several minutes. Disgusted, Barbara stood and retrieved the bottle of vodka from her hiding place and poured them both a drink. She nudged him with the glass, and he looked up at her miserably. He knocked the liquor back, coughing slightly, and watched her. “You didn’t answer the question?”

“I don’t know...”

“You damned well do know!” she yelled, breaking her own rule. Again, she had to calm herself down. “That’s not good enough, Jerry. You have thrown away your life, our life, and I will damned well know why! Just how long have you been fucking your whores, Jerry? How often and how many were there? I at least deserve that!”

“There was just the one...”

“Mistress Domina?” Barbara sneered.

Jerry nodded miserably. “It’s just been the last few years. And I don’t have sex with her.”

A look of evil fury swept across his wife’s face. She reached across the table and slapped his cheek sharply. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Jerry, don’t you dare! I’ve met her! I’ve talked to her! I know exactly what the two of you did, and don’t think that just because you didn’t put your miserable prick into her you didn’t have sex! Now you tell me exactly what you did, and if you lie, even a little, I will throw your ass out on the street and ruin you.” Jerry looked like he was about to protest, but Barbara stopped him. “I know, Jerry, and if you don’t tell me exactly so will everyone in your office!”

Jerry caved totally. Slumped back in the kitchen chair, tears streaming down his face, he told his wife exactly what he and Mistress Domina had done, the spankings, the cunnilingus, the abuse, the masturbation. More than once, Barbara felt like retching into the sink, but she managed to control the urge. Twice she refilled their glasses with the vodka, but neither felt any effect from it; it simply dulled the intolerable pain for both.