Wild Sex Tales(Erotica)

We reached an unspoken agreement. Like the sun and the moon, we lived in the same place, but we never shared the sky. At first, I kept up my steady diet of texts, but after a few days I realized I was only making things worse. I wrote her a long email missive, apologizing for everything and begging for her forgiveness. She never wrote me back.Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

We settled into our respective lives, keeping them as separate as possible. I stayed long hours at the office. It did wonders for my career (“Matt’s really got his nose to the grindstone,” I overheard my boss tell someone), but it broke me. I slept at home, fitful, then slipped out at first light.

I could only assume Jennifer was doing the same. I saw the evidence that she still lived with me. The mussed sheets on the futon. A used coffee mug in the sink. A couple of times, we crossed paths for a moment. We just grunted at each other, like even one word would be too much to say.

Over time, the wounds didn’t heal, but they stopped festering. We didn’t get any kinder to each other, but we didn’t get mean, either. We settled into what I would say was a perfectly appropriate, shared living situation for two siblings. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was probably for the best.

So, of course, my Mom had to go and mess it up.

*

It’s your cousin Izzy’s bar mitzvah,” Mom said, “You have to be there.”

Jennifer and I stood on opposite sides of the room, staring at the iPhone like it might detonate at any second. Arms crossed.

“I didn’t even know I had a Cousin Izzy,” Jennifer said, cagily.

“He’s your father’s sister’s daughter’s kid,” Mom said. The speakerphone made her voice even more nasal than usual — a feat that I’d previously thought was impossible.

“He’s like, barely related to us, Mom,” I said.

“I don’t care,” Mom said, “You were invited so you’re going. Besides, it’ll be good for both of you to get out of that smelly city for a while.”

I looked over at Jennifer and we shared an eyeroll. My mother’s best arguments were irrational, that was how she kept you from arguing back.

“Good,” Mom said, taking our silence to mean acceptance, “Your father and I will pick you up Saturday morning.”

*

We took turns in the shower. Got dressed in our separate rooms.

“Ready to go?” I asked, as I stepped into the living room. I was wearing a grey sport coat with a light blue dress shirt and no tie. Jennifer had on a short black dress, tight to her body. She looked amazing, of course. I made myself gaze away.

“Go downstairs,” Jennifer said, “I’ll join you in a sec.”

That’s how distant we’d become. We couldn’t even share an elevator together.

We stood on the curb, silent, scanning the traffic for my parent’s car like lions eyeing a passing herd of antelope.

“You look nice,” Jennifer said, not looking at me.

“You, too.”

“Let’s just get through this and then we can get back to our lives, OK?” Jennifer said.

“Fine,” I said. It was more like a hostage negotiation than a conversation.

My Dad’s silver Mercedes pulled up to the curb and we climbed into the back. We said a quick hello to my parents, then stared out our respective windows.

“So, how are things?” Mom asked, turning back to look at the both of us.

“Fine,” I said.

“Fine,” Jennifer said.

Mom turned back around. My Dad turned up the music. We went up through the Bronx and into Yonkers. Slowly, the city ebbed away. We drove down quiet, forested streets. We were twenty miles north of Manhattan, at most. It looked like another world.

We didn’t say a word the entire way. You’d think we were going to a funeral. At one point, I accidentally touched my sister’s hand. She glared at me like I’d grabbed her boob.

Finally, my father turned off the main road and pulled up to what looked like a classic, massive mansion. We got out of the car and a valet took the keys. Inside, it was clearly someone’s home that had been turned into an event space. According to my Dad, it used to be owned by Mark Twain, but I was dubious.

A host led us to a grand, glass-walled room with stone tile floors where they were having a cocktail hour. Warm music tinkled in the background. A waitress handed us glasses of white wine. Jennifer downed hers like she was taking a shot.

It didn’t take long for the room to fill up with family. I recognized a few of the faces, but I did my best to maintain my distance. I hadn’t seen most of these people in years and I would have been more than happy to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, my Aunt Cassie managed to corner me. “Matthew! I haven’t seen you in ages!” she declared, advancing on me like a brigade thrusting at a weak spot in the enemy’s lines.

“Hi,” I said, bringing out my best fake smile.

“Where’s Beth?” Aunt Cassie asked.

“We’re separated,” I said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Aunt Cassie said, “She was such a nice girl.”

I did my best to slip away, but it was only the beginning. The rest of the afternoon, anytime I found a free moment, someone grabbed my arm and asked about my ex-wife. Had my parents seriously not told anyone about the divorce?

Between the alcohol and the constant questioning, I started to get a bit rowdy. Finally, I was standing in the corner when I was accosted by my Cousin Betsy. She used her broad body to wedge me into a corner. I was overpowered by the smell of old flowers.

“So, how’s Beth?” she asked immediately. Not even a hello.

“We’re divorced,” I said.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Betsy said, “She’s so beautiful and worldly. You could tell she was going places, you know?”

“I suppose,” I said.

“Did you have any kids?” Betsy asked. She fixed her oversized glasses on her nose. Smiled at me with yellowing teeth.

“None,” I said.

“With how successful she is, I bet Beth didn’t want kids to keep her back.”

“Oh, she wanted kids,” I replied, harshly, “She just wanted them with the dude who lives down the street.”

Betsy gasped, putting her hand on her chest. I braced myself for the next barrage. Then I felt a sharp tug on my elbow.

“Sorry, he’s had way too much to drink.”