The staple gun made loud, sharp snapping noises as George stapled a dark green plastic tarpaulin over the hole in the bedroom wall. He felt weak and sluggish and worked slowly, pulling the plastic taut before each snap of the gun.
Before starting, he'd knocked on the door of the guest room assuming that was where Karen had gone. He'd knocked a second time before getting a response.
"Yes?"
"Uh… are you, um, all right, Karen?" he'd asked.
A long silence, then: "Yes. I just want to be alone for a while."
He'd stood there for a long time, staring at the doorknob, tempted to try it and maybe go in and talk with her, but she didn't sound like she wanted to talk. And for a brief moment, that made him furious. His teeth ground together and he wanted to put his fist through the door, felt angry and strong enough to be able to poke his hand through the wood as if it were paper, then go into that bedroom and do the same thing to Karen, but -
– he'd caught himself and moved back away from the door, slowly relaxing his clenched fists and taking deep breaths. Then he'd gone to work in the bedroom.
The next time he squeezed the gun, he got a hollow clack. It was empty. He released the tarpaulin, leaned down for the box of staples on the floor, and removed another strip. Once he'd reloaded the staple gun, he stood up straight and reached for the drooping flap of plastic, but -
– George jerked his hand back as if it had been bitten and dropped the staple gun as his shock came out in a dry cough, because -
– Lorelle peered in through the opening left by the unstapled section of the tarpaulin and purred, "I could use a handyman, George." She wore a black leather teddy with perfectly round holes over her breasts through which her dark nipples stood erect. She wore no panties above her black fishnet stockings. "Would you like to be my handyman for a while, George?"
His mouth was suddenly filled with moist cotton. "Guh-get away… from me," he breathed.
"That's not nice, George. Not after all the good times we've had. What do you say we do your favorite? You fuck me up the ass while I use the vibrator on my pussy. How does that sound, huh?"
"Nun… no. No."
"No? I'm shocked, George. I'm hurt. Why no, all of a sudden? Have you… ah, yes, I bet you've found someone else to do those things for you. Who could it be? Hmmm… Karen? No, not Karen. She doesn't like cocks. She told me that, George. She said they were ugly. Even yours. All lumpy and stiff and stubby." She wrinkled her nose and went through a mock shudder. "Ooooh, no. Karen doesn't like that at all. She told me herself. No, Karen prefers… other things."
George began to feel sick, partly because of what Lorelle was saying to him, and partly because, in spite of her words and in spite of what he knew about her – or thought he knew about her – he was getting an erection.
"So if it's not Karen who's replacing me, maybe it's… Jen? She's young but… very imaginative. Maybe Robby wasn't enough for her. Maybe his cock wasn't big enough. After all, father knows best, right?" She laughed as she licked a fingertip and ran it around one nipple, then squeezed. "But somehow, I don't think so. I think you still want me, George. You know nobody will give it to you like I did. You know that. And so does whatever's standing up beneath your robe." She laughed again, licked her finger Again and buried it for a moment in the patch of red hair between her legs as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back with pleasure. Then she lifted her hand to her face and ran the glistening finger back and forth beneath her nose. "Mrnmm, George," she said as she held her hand out toward him. "Want to smell? Want to taste? Nectar, George… nectar. Smell it… lick it… suck it off my finger, George."
His lungs felt empty and his knees weak, and the pounding between his legs became more and more insistent until it drowned the throb of his head and he was about to step forward just one step, a short step, and take that finger in his mouth so he could suck off that sparkling fluid, but -
– he growled through clenched teeth, "No, I won't. Not again. I won't!" He swept the staple gun off the floor, slammed the loose section of the tarpaulin against the wall, and began stapling hard and fast as -
– Lorelle, just outside, continued to say softly, "Lick it, George, taste it again, come out and taste it, George -"
" – No, dammit," George rasped as he stapled.
“Come out and put your tongue in it, George… put your tongue in it and roll it around… put your cock in it, George, just slide it in… “
He thought of Karen… of Robby and Jen… of Christmases and Thanksgivings… school plays and recitals… of Robby’s birth… he even thought of Laura.
Lorelle giggled as she dragged her fingernails slowly down the other side of the plastic.
Karen lay on the bed in the guest room with the door closed and locked, stroking Monroe gently. The cat was curled up on her stomach, purring like an idling engine, as if he hadn't been less than an inch from bloody injury and most likely death only a short time ago.
"What am I going to do, Monroe?" Karen whispered.
The cat didn't even stir.
"What… am I going… to -"
There were three short taps on the window pane.
Karen's head jerked to the right and looked up at the rectangular window. The white shade was down and the light-blue curtains were half drawn.
Three more staccato taps.
She felt her heartbeat in her fingertips.
Monroe protested with a half-hearted meow when Karen sat up and lifted him off her. She swung her legs off the bed, stood and stared at the window.
More gentle tapping.
Karen could see a hazy, dark shape through the white shade. She stepped forward, reached out a trembling hand and almost jerked it back and hurried out of the room. Instead, she tugged on the shade. It snapped up with a clatter and -
– Karen stumbled backward with a gasp and whispered, "Lorelle!"
She was naked beneath a sheer black cloak that fluttered around her gracefully in the breeze. Her hands rested between her breasts where she held the cloak together. Lorelle's voice was dulled by the pane of glass, but Karen still heard her.
"I thought you were coming over, Karen," she said.
"Well, I… I-I… "
"I've been waiting for you."
Karen inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, then said in a trembling voice, "I'm suh-sorry, but I had to stay with… I, um, I need to stay with my family."
"Why?"
Karen's eyes snapped open. "What?"
"What's holding you to your family, Karen? The children are old enough to take care of themselves. Robby's not even yours. And your husband… well, things will never be the same with him, will they? He’ll never do for you what a woman can do… what I can do."
“Please stop," Karen said, turning her back to the window and crossing the room.
"He'll never make you feel the way you felt with me."
"Don't." Karen put her face in her hands, fighting the urge to turn and look at Lorelle, to drink her in with her eyes. "Please don't do this to me," Karen whispered.
"I'm not doing anything to you. But I want to. Look."
Karen didn't move.
"Please, Karen. Look."
She turned cautiously.
Lorelle had pulled the cloak away from her left breast and was fingering the small silver earring that hung from her pierced nipple.
"I wore it for you," she said as she placed a hand on the glass and moved closer, closer, until the earring chattered against the pane, until her breasts were pressed flat to the glass.
"Please… go away," Karen breathed.