Diary of a bad housewife

Diary of a bad housewife chapter 3

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Chapter 3

I heard Colin supervising the children, making them wash and brush their teeth, getting them ready for bed. I desperately wanted to kiss the little ones goodnight, especially after losing track of the time to pick them up. Sometimes my maternal instincts wavered in the winds of my childish, almost sibling rivalry for Colin's approbation. I felt ashamed, alienated, unfit, and I envied Colin's easy ways with them.

I rose and locked the bedroom door. Screw him; let him sleep on the sofa again. I cracked open my modeling portfolio and ran my fingers over my pageant photos.

When I was seven, eight, even nine years old, I used to ask my mother if I would have servants, too.

"Of course, dear."

"And maids?"

"Naturally."

"Footmen, like in Sleeping Beauty?"

"Why ever not."

"And chamber maids and ladies-in-waiting?"

"I certainly trust so, my dear."

"I think I'll keep a personal maid who does nothing but answer fan mail for me. I shall insist she use a quill pen with gold-flecked India ink, and I'll order in the finest Egyptian parchment paper."

"Nothing is too good for you, my child. Never forget that."

I hadn't forgotten, but marriage to Colin James sidetracked the fairy tale.

Standing before the mirror, I appraised my body. I hadn't reapplied makeup after my bath and my hair remained coiled on top of my head. I still looked good for a girl who was pushing toward those forever-29 years. Even after two children, I could still pass for a model.

My neck was long and perfectly smooth. Not a wrinkle showed on my face, nor even the slightest hint of crevices around the lips like my mother's. I worried my collar bones looked a bit too prominent, but the fullness of my breasts offset that. Breast feeding was never an option I entertained, so my boobs looked seductive if a little heavy. My problem at the time had been keeping Colin from draining my breasts. What was this thing people had for sucking body liquids?

Leaning in to the mirror, I went over my breasts with care. It always annoyed me my left areola had five bumps circling it and my right tit had six. Still, if I didn't bother to count, they looked damned good, if I said so myself.

I couldn't see my bottom, which was just as well, as I suspected a couple of cellulite pockets hid under my cheeks. If so, Colin would never tell me; in fact, he would shrug it off as nothing at all.

My legs stayed slender and, fortunately, no one could tell they weren't quite as perfectly toned when they firmed to perfection in college. I counted myself lucky I looked great in shorts.

I smoothed my hands over hips, which still measured a perfect 36. I kept my bikini line trimmed and I combed my fingers through the fluff of my pubic hair. Colin liked it short but not shaved and that was fine with me. Before we fought so much, he'd dip his fingers or tongue between my labia, like so...

Oh... I felt an electric surge. It'd been weeks since Colin last touched me. He insinuated arguing turned him off. What was wrong with him? Why wouldn't he touch me? He wouldn't cheat, I knew that. Infidelity wasn't part of his vocabulary.

Lord, I overflowed with wetness. Experimenting, seeking to remember the feeling again, I let my finger slip over the button of my desire. Ah, ... a shudder ran through me. The touch, skin against skin felt so good, uplifting, a frisson of shivering excitement. Why wouldn't that idiot husband of mine take care of me? Tremors ran through me.

I closed my eyes and let my fingers slide, thinking about Colin's face above mine, thinking my fingertips were his. Swaying, I imagined his lips moving down my body, nipping at my breasts, sucking my nipples, circling my navel, and replacing the finger that hovered above my fleshy button. Colin could be wonderful when he wanted to.

In truth, he was a beautiful and sexy man. Colin could turn me on even when I was angry. If only he would throw me across his lap, rip off my wisp of panties, slap my bottom with gusto. Take me. I wanted him to be a man and seize me without regard for my selfish whims. I wanted him to teach me, tame me...

My fingers circled as I swayed and trembled, heat flushing though me. Oh, dear God, I was building... building...

My eyes flew open. The bedroom door swung wide. Colin stood there in surprise, mouth open, gawking at me.

It took me several seconds to come to my senses. My first rational thought was to question how he came to be standing there, but Colin's hand held the little wire we used to pop the latches on the kids' bedroom doors when they locked themselves in.

It took me another moment to realize what he must see: a pathetic bitch of a housewife standing in front of a mirror, futilely massaging her clitoris in a desperate attempt toward sexual relief.

A wave of shame washed over me followed by a crash of fury. The closest objects at hand were my framed beauty queen photos. I grabbed one and hurled it at him.

He easily ducked and gave me a pitying look.

I shrieked at him. "You step into this bedroom again and I'll call the police to remove you."

Enraged, I slammed the door in his face, bolted it, and leaned my dressing chair against it.

Then I threw myself face down on the bed and cried. My life had gone horribly wrong and I couldn't grasp the first clue why.