(Complete) Devil In The Waters, Book 2, Chapter 6 (Patreon)

On Thursday she drove Josh to work so she could have the car to go shopping in the afternoon after yoga at the gym. At lunch she had a scheduled gym date with Karina. It was a long-standing Thursday yoga class, a once a week get-together they usually followed with a vegan meal at a café on Harwood, south of the 401. But since the party at Tiffany’s, she hadn’t heard from Karina. She passed it off, trying not to fret, knowing that the coming week for Karina would be a busy one; Karina had a work deadline and a lunch with the parents of the new guy she’d been dating since January and she’d worried about it. Karina’d almost skipped the reunion and the party at Tiffany’s altogether, but since going to Tiffany’s had been all Karina’s idea, once Josh and she had agreed to it, Karina knew it would be bad manners to be the one to back out.

Karina witnessed what happened at Tiffany’s. Caught her and Devin in the grass, then hounded them later when they were in the bathroom.

Things that morning at Tiffany's had been worked out; not fixed but smoothed over. There’d been arguments amongst them, Karina, Amy, and two other girls from high school who’d been privy to the scandal; the girls wanted to blame Devin, and she was stuck defending him. After their postulations were presented, she was swayed. She blamed Devin too, and had the others support. Josh shows up in the kitchen, everyone helps her put a lid on that roiling pot, and leaving Tiffany’s altogether should have been the act of turning off the burner. The high school reunion was over, and when she got the reminder next time for their fifteen- or twenty-year, it would go straight in the trash, and she wouldn’t see the majority of those people ever, ever again. No more Devin, for sure.

She’d thought.

It hadn’t quite turned out that way, though. Somehow Devin was still in her life. Somehow she’d managed to make matters worse.

None of the other girls who knew, or at least had been apprised of what happened, were in touch with her, nor were they friends in her normal life. She had two voices coming from her shoulders; the proverbial angel and devil. Amy was the devil, telling her to go for it, get some, all the disparaging things she’d said about Josh, then seeing his penis, teasing, tattling to Devin about it. Amy loved that Kimmy’d met Devin in the apartment days after Tiffany’s party. Whatever it was about Amy, if you had something to confess she did this thing that had you admitting all your sins, welcoming it, more than absolving, she was encouraging . . .  

The angel on her shoulder was Karina, but Karina wasn’t talking to her.

When Karina didn’t show for the yoga class, it sunk her heart. Made her feel anew all the guilt for what she’d done. And Karina didn’t know what had happened since the party . . . 

Ten minutes into the class though, sweat trickling her back already, the door opens and Karina’s hustling with her mat slung over a shoulder, tip-toeing to the back of the class.

She’d waved and, thank god, Karina’d come to her, lay her mat in the spot Kimmy’d reserved. They exchanged smiles, but she’d be a fool not to notice a stiffness in her friend. They finished the class together, the whole time her stomach getting knotted tighter.

***

 Both of them still in tights, they sat facing each other on the wooden benches in the gym’s changing rooms, women moving around them, disrobing and heading to the showers. Kimmy waited for the coast to clear, knowing Karina was upset, wanting to hear what her friend thought.

“I think I’m still mad at you,” Karina said, unable to look in her eyes, hands clasped between her knees.

“I deserve it,” she said, looking past her shoulder to make sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk to me all week.”

“I really am mad, Kimmy. . . . And you didn’t call me either.”

“I was afraid. Afraid you’d still be mad at me.”

Karina whispered, “How could you do that . . .?”

“You don’t have to tell me . . .”

“At one point I had my phone in my hand and I was going to call . . .”

Kimmy’s shoulders slumped, her face sullen, looking down She pulled her hair back, held it to one side of her neck.

“Not to talk to you . . .”

Now she looked up, saw Karina’s eyes were reddened. She whispered, “To talk to who?”

“Josh,” Karina said.

“Don’t do that—why would you do that to me?”

“To you? You know what it’s done to me? How do you think my week has been?”

“I’m sorry . . .”

“I cant sleep, I can’t think about anything else . . . it’s like this heavy lump in my stomach,” she said, holding a fist above her navel. “Every time I get quiet, the thought of it just jumps out at me and gets me all . . . twisted.”

“Would you really have told Josh?”

“No,” she said. “It’s on my back, you know?—wanting to do the right thing.”

“That’s the right thing?”

Karina looked at her pleadingly. “Isn’t it?”

A straggler from the yoga class came in the change room, went to her locker a half dozen down from theirs so they stopped talking till she’d headed to the shower.

Karina said, “I’d rather not know at all. It’s the burden that’s so hard, knowing a secret, knowing how you’d break Josh’s heart. Devin Stone? I mean, come on.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

“Why?”

“He knows. Josh knows.”

“He knows?” Her voice was a fearful high-pitch.

“I told him,” she said.

Karina couldn’t believe it, nodding forward. “You did?”

“He’s not stupid. I’m a terrible liar. It’s a bad mix.”

“What happened?”

“The way home from the party I told him it was just an argument, me and Devin, and I didn’t want to talk about it. Josh lets me off the hook, but he’s stewing. I did nothing to make him feel any better about it. For days. . . . It leads to a blow out. You know, I actually felt worse about the lying than what happened. The lying is so direct and personal, and I do it looking in his eyes.”

“A blow out? Is he okay?—are you guys okay?”

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

A woman emerged from the shower, passing through in her slapping slides. They both slipped out of their tights, wrapped themselves in towels, grabbed their shower kits. The coast was clear again and Kimmy tossed her kit to the bench, got close to Karina.

“I took him out for a beer the other night. Somewhere public so he wouldn’t lose his shit on me. I told him what happened.”

“You really did?”

She nodded. Karina touched her arm, being supportive. “So I told him what happened.” She shrugged. “He blamed Devin.”

“It was Devin.”

“I know.”

“Was he hurt?”

She shook her head, avoiding Karina’s eyes as she skated around the truth. “He . . .” She looked up at the metal rafters. This part was true. True and astounding. “We . . . couldn’t be better right now.”

“Really?” Karina’s voice trailed up—not disbelief, but a hopeful rising.

“I mean it. We went home from the bar, and we . . . we were with each other all night. Touching, kissing. It was amazing.” A real tear spilled over her lid and she wiped.

“Why didn’t you call me to tell me that?”

“It was just the other night. Tuesday. I knew I’d see you here today. When you didn’t show up on time my heart sunk so low.”

“Come here,” Karina said, smiling. She embraced Kimmy, and Kimmy put her arms around her back. “I’m sorry, Kimmy, I never knew I was such a shitty friend.”

They were in towels and otherwise bare, so they kept it brief, stepping back, adjusting their terry wraps. She said, “It reset us or something. Not what happened at the party reset us, but being honest. Like, I totally forgot how amazing Josh was or, I don’t know . . . not forgot, but . . . took for granted.”

“He loves you so much, Kimmy. Always has.”

“I told him, Karina, told him the truth. And it made us better.”

“You’re so lucky,” Karina said soft and soothingly.

“Are you okay now?”

“I’m okay. That’s the best thing I could hear. I mean it. And I’m sorry I let you down.”

“I let you down. I let myself down. Josh and I . . . we’re going to be okay.”

They showered together, dressed, then Kimmy took Karina to lunch, the weight lifted. Karina was light, relieved, and the thought that Karina could have told Josh what happened—tattled on her—got her squirming while she showed a smile all through their Buddha bowls and green teas smoothies. But it was done, the truth told for the most part, and also crystallized before her via her own words was a new happy love for her husband. She’d danced around just how much she’d actually confessed to Josh, but the real gold nugget in what she’d said to Karina was how even a facet revealed to her sweet Josh had revived them and reminded her how much she shared with the man she’d been with since high school. She didn’t deserve him . . . 

***

 Never would have occurred to her to buy lingerie, but here she was filing through the racks at La Vie en Rose. It was an unexpected activity, after lunch with Karina coming out to the RioCan Durham Center to hit the Costco and the Michaels and the Wal-Mart, walking from the Nissan to the Costco, looking up and seeing the high end classy storefront face for the women’s undergarment boutique. She’d thought of Josh. Thought of their sweet time in bed together the other night. Like old times. In college, homework and class the heaviest burden, the sex then had been carefree. They definitely weren’t trying to get pregnant. But even then had they ever been playful? Josh at times would get lusty and they would fool around a little but why had she never tried to dress sexy for him? It’s not like she had terrible underwear, but she’d never presented herself to him like a well-wrapped package his hands would shake while opening and revealing. The idea tickled her.

So now she had some choices to make.

At first she’d liked the bright green. Bright green bra and panties. Sexy cuts. But green? Then she found the garter belts and hose and laughed that off, thinking no way. But then went back. Now she had an embroidered black garter belt with stocking straps, black hose with a stitch line up the back. The bright green was off the table. She’d toyed with the red and with a lavender but held them up to her skin, and while the red looked striking, nothing beat basic black with her hair. When she wore black, she knew it made her look dark and mysterious and unreadable. Not to be crossed. And what better way to present herself to her husband than in an intimidating way? If she strutted out of their bathroom in the bright green bra and panties he could laugh or giggle and she mightn’t have the resolve to not feel foolish. In black she knew Josh’s expression would be wowed. Wowed and frightened. That made her smile, thinking of him on the bed and she comes out in this . . . 

A better revelation was needed, better than just opening the bathroom door, and the boutique had a whole room labeled ‘kimonos.’

A black kimono. All black, three quarter sleeves, a big rose and leaves scrawled at the hip. Come out of the bathroom like that, Josh seeing it, liking the robe, then she opens it. . . . Black pushup bra (with a little padding to make it look like she had something), black panties over a garter belt, straps to the stockings; kimono comes off, turn, shows him the back, the high swoop of the cheeky cut briefs with their deep dark green ruffles you had to be close enough to see.

Even her own heart raced at the thought. Hand to her collar she could sense the flitting pulse in her neck and wrist.

At the checkout, the attendant who’d helped her said, “Your husband is going to freak.”

In a smoky mirror behind the cash she saw the happy dazed smile on her own face, the gleam in her eyes.

She said, “And I just came for groceries.”

***

 Another dilemma.

The groceries were emptied from the cloth bags, canned goods in the cupboards, dairy in the fridge, produce on the counter where she leaned, looking at the plastic bag that held their re-stocked toiletries. On a fun lark she’d made a strange purchase she was now weirded out to address. It’d been done on the tail end of the high buying the lingerie brought, the lingerie’s high coming from a relief of the tension between her and Karina, and the surge of love she’d felt for Josh after realizing how things had changed since . . . Devin.

But now she was home and the happy wave crest she’d been surfing was fading, dumping like adrenalin after the rush.

In the Wal-Mart bag with the toothpaste and anti-perspirant and Josh’s shave cream . . . was a paper pharmacy bag. Inside the pharmacy bag was the renewal for her Ortho Tri-Cyclen, her contraceptive pills. Unprotected sex would have to wait six weeks so she’d also bought a twenty-four count of Trojan Double Ecstasy condoms.

Now she put her hand in the bag, plastic rustling, found the small cardboard lozenge, light as air, heavy with tenor. Withdrew it. Black, gold letters. A three-pack of Trojan Magnum condoms.

When she’d plucked them from the peg, it’d been done with a funny hair toss and complementary chuckle. Grabbed the normal size condoms, saw the Magnums, laughed, plucked, kept walking; all upbeat and cheery. The rationale? Who knows. It was like she’d said to herself in the moment Hey, better safe than sorry. But funny, like she didn’t mean it. But she bought them. Even flinched when they got scanned at the checkout like the guy would be thinking This lady’s got two boyfriends. But she didn’t have two . . . 

No. She didn’t buy them for another boyfriend. It was funny. Maybe curiosity.

With the produce sorted, she put away what went in the fridge, fruit in one drawer, veggies in the other, melon on the counter, bananas on their hanger, the remainder laid out to be washed for the garden salad she would make. It was her soapy hands rubbing the cucumber that brought the slithering, heavy feeling between her legs.

She set the cucumber aside, shook water from her hands then dried them. The two boxes of condoms were aligned on the counter. Then from each she withdrew a foil square packet. The one she’d bought for Josh was opened, the rubber retracted. She eyed the circumference. The Magnum’s packet torn, she removed the larger condom and lay them on their packets and lined them up. Not much difference to the eye.

A greenish banana—a good sized one—was pulled from the bunch on their counter hanger, and its butt end pushed into the hoop of Josh’s condom, then she rolled it down just past halfway. The latex clung to the banana. This dirty act had her stomach rolling and a weird smile tugged to one side. Now she tried re-rolling the condom, shaking it off the banana before trying the same task with the larger condom. It slid with ease, hung baggily. If she really whipped it, she imagined she could fling the Magnum off the banana without peeling with her fingers. Also noticeable was where it was largest. The end. A man would have to have a large and voluminous cock head to fill out the Magnum. She picked at it playfully.

With a few tugs she was able to pull the Magnum off the banana. Now she raised the cucumber. A long, thick dark green phallus of enormous size; maybe eight or nine inches long, and thick enough she couldn’t close her grip tight on it. She pushed the fat butt end of the cucumber into the Magnum and had to squeeze and snap the condom to get it halfway down its length. The cucumber filled out the Magnum. She handled it, running her fingers, gripping, lightly stroking. It was only four o’clock.

All the condom wrappers and boxes were returned to the plastic bag and she brought it to the bedroom, tossing it on the en suite bathroom counter. She still held the condom covered cucumber. Her stomach still knotted.

She lay on their bed, head on a pillow, legs parted and stared at the inactive ceiling fan. Eyes open, she stopped seeing, instead her mind picturing the night sky, a trail of fire smoke. Her arms were overhead and she didn’t even struggle.

Now she lay the cucumber on the front of her thigh, and even though it had been washed in hot water it still chilled her. She rolled it, let it grow warmer. Rolled it more, let it fall between her thighs. She nosed it up inside the leg of her shorts, felt it begin to prod at the crotch of her underwear. Stomach pulled in, she ran her free hand underneath the front of her button up shorts, hooked a finger under the leg of her panties. The cucumber prodded again, now pushing against the outer edge of her vulva. She shimmied, guided the cucumber until that large end mushed against her labia.

Her hips humped a slow rhythm on their own. The cucumber pressed in time, seeking to get inside her. The cucumber was too large and something about that was so exciting. She pushed with her hand, flexed her ass to raise her hips to meet the intrusion. She was too tight. Her opening was too small. The cucumber was too big. But, god, did she want it inside her . . . 

Cucumber crosswise on her stomach, she unbuttoned her shorts, pushed them down with her panties, got them right off. She stroked the cucumber's reservoir tip along the groove of her hot wet furrow, narrowing in on her aperture, finding it, then using both hands to guide it inside herself. It hurt but it didn’t stop her. She grimaced and bit her lip. It didn't go in easily. Devin wasn't wearing a condom at Tiffany's. The air had been cold, the skin of his cock against the inside of her thigh curling iron hot. She lay there helpless—no, acting helpless—letting Devin Stone try to shoe horn that enormous cock into her vagina . . . 

Now her breaths came quicker, her hips humping faster. She held the cucumber with only one hand, not needing it deeper, only needing it to feel persistent. The fingers of her other hand thrummed over her clit. The knotted pearl in her oyster was ripe and bursting, and the pleasure got her moaning all alone on a weekday masturbating in bed. She came. She kept going. Got the cucumber a little deeper but stopped. She thought of her ass on the cold bathroom counter, looking between her legs and seeing Devin's throbbing and veiny monster poking against her fur. She came again, this time harder.

But this time the sexual sweat flooded her with coppery twanging guilt.

She sat up, moved aside, disgusted to see the wet she'd stained on the bed cover. The Magnum was unrolled, crumpled, taken to the bathroom where she cut it up with scissors and flushed the pieces away. The quilt was swapped for a clean one. In the kitchen the cucumber was sliced out of phallic existence and reduced to dinner for her and Josh.

The sickness she felt now ruined the surprise of her lingerie, and she hid it boxed away in the closet, hoping she would soon have the same excitement return that had got her trying it on in the first place . . .