The New Neighbor

Chapter 12

More Dark Thoughts

Karen woke briefly and heard movement outside her bedroom. Just footsteps, and doors opening and closing, no voices. That's the way it had become, almost overnight, it seemed.

She lay in bed passing in and out of a doze, wondering what time it was. She could not focus her eyes enough to read the digital clock on the night stand.

Although she had not felt well at work that day, that was not the reason she had left work early. She'd been tired, but not sick. The real reason was that she could not stop thinking about Lorelle Dupree. Karen spent the day imagining her at home, working on something – a piece of sculpture, or perhaps a necklace or ring – and those thoughts made her wet. She’d walked around at work that day with her panties soaked through.

Only a fraction of the guilt she'd been feeling still remained. Even though she tried to feel guilty, she could not.

This is something that makes me feel good, she thought. I spend the day at a difficult job, then go home to another difficult job, and there's so little that makes me feel good… so why shouldn't I indulge myself as long as no one gets hurt?

But, another voice inside her countered, what if someone is hurt? The children? Or George?

Well… I'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen.

But the other voice continued: Of course, it's not like George has done a lot to make you feel good lately, has he? In fact, the only time he's affectionate is when he wants you to make him feel good… when his ugly, stubby penis is feeling restless. Isn't that right?

Karen tried to go back to sleep, but the inner voice prodded her.

Well, isn't it?

George is a good man, she thought, curling up beneath the covers.

True, true. But even a good man follows the orders of his stiff one-eyed skin snake, doesn't he?

She sat up in bed, barely able to lift her eyelids, and heard something outside the bedroom.

A sob.

Another, deep and thick with anguish.

Jen? It might even have been Robby. But why?

Karen considered trying to get up, but fell back in bed and lay there, thinking of the two late morning hours she'd spent with Lorelle that day. She’d been so eager – so desperate – to be with Lorelle again that she’d broken all the speed limits to get home as quickly as possible. Once again, being with her had made Karen feel so good.

But she did not feel good after going home.

She was lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic sobs that went on and on beyond her bedroom door.

George was not feeling well either.

He'd been so exhausted all day that he'd been incapable of getting much done, and his few accomplishments at work were so uncharacteristically sloppy that his secretary had suggested he go home early and get into bed. By three o'clock he agreed with her.

But he did not agree simply because he was so fatigued. That, he knew, was simply because he'd gotten so little sleep lately.

Since he'd gotten out of bed that morning – a formidable task beneath the weight of his exhaustion – he'd been able to think of only one thing: Lorelle's last words to him before he'd left her house and sneaked back to bed the night before…

Next time, you can tie me up. Or, if you'd like… I'll tie you up.

He called her several times from his office, but never got an answer, so he tried to busy himself with his work. But nothing could eclipse his thoughts of Lorelle Dupree.

He knew it was ridiculous. It wasn't like he was sneaking to a motel with someone his family didn't know about and had never met – she lived across the street, for crying out loud. Worse yet, he'd even fucked her in his own bedroom while Karen was asleep in bed!

So who says you can’t do it someplace safer? he asked himself at his desk over a fast-food lunch he couldn't eat. And, if necessary, we can sneak off to a motel. It's not exactly unjustified, either. For the last twelve years, I've been married to a woman who thinks a libido is an Italian desert. Maybe if Karen had made some effort to overcome her lack of interest in sex… maybe if she'd tried to use a little imagination in the bedroom… maybe then this wouldn't be happening. Maybe if she took a little more interest in me than she does that fucking cat of hers… maybe…

George left work at three and was home in fifteen minutes. Jen was the only one up. She sat in his recliner wearing her bathrobe. A most unusual expression rested on her pale face. She stared at the television, but did not seem to be seeing it. Her eyes were dark with concentration beneath a huddled brow, but a gentle smile curled her mouth slightly at the corners. She sat with her knees spread far apart. There was something strangely adult about the way she looked, sitting in his chair with contrasting expressions struggling together on her face.

“Where is everybody?" George asked.

"In bed. They're sick."

"You don't look so good yourself."

"Just tired."

"You should go to bed."

She did not look at him, just shook her head.

"You've got school tomorrow, Jen. If you're not feeling well, you should go to bed."

"I'm… just… tired," she said with slow deliberation, as if speaking to a retarded child.

"Well, that's what people do when they're tired, dammit, they go to bed!” he snapped.

She didn't move.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you," she muttered.

"Goddammit, go to bed!"

He waited until she finally got out of the chair and went down the hall, walking by him as if he weren't there.

George went to the bathroom, urinated, then washed his hands, freezing for a moment as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Have I missed that much sleep? he wondered.

Wrinkles webbed from the outer corners of his eyes and his face seemed to sag on his skull like an ill-fitting garment. He ran a brush through his hair and brushed his teeth before going to the kitchen and pouring himself a drink. Coffee was what he really needed, but he knew a couple of drinks would make it easier for him to do what he wanted to do.

Twenty minutes later, he went to the phone and punched out a number.

"Hello?"

"Hi," he said.

"George! You're home early."

"Yeah, I was… well, I felt kind of… actually, I was thinking maybe I could… that maybe I'd, you know… “

Lorelle laughed. "Tell me, George. Has anyone ever dripped hot wax on your bare skin?"

"Nuh… no… “

"Come on over. I'll tie you up and we'll see how you like it."