Naked Wives.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
A journal kept by one woman reveals the sultry ambitions of her closest friends as well as her own outlook on life, and her own secret desire.

Submitted: November 26, 2016

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Submitted: November 26, 2016




I never intend to keep a journal, but with all the chaos and wretched behavior of my friends, I felt I should keep track of the cavernous circumstances (more like exploits, really) they sometimes create and fall into. It seems they all have issues that lead, or are the basis for their intermittent indiscretions. It’s either a cheating husband, a cheating lover,(It does exist!) jealousy, over flirtatiousness, the drugs, the parties, the infatuations…whatever life drips from its less virtuous brew, always lands into my friends cups, and they drink it with vigor. And after they drink the tainted brew of fate, I will be there. To hold their hand and listen, but it always starts off with the same line: “Mel, we need to talk.” The only one that spells out my name completely is Wenn, but her opener is a little different: “Melissa. I need to talk.” I really don’t have anyone to share these things with. I will not share all the details with my husband, but he knows some things. I will tell him things that a girl can say to let a man know what she wants him to know- without revealing all the details. Men really aren’t detail oriented, especially when it comes too speech, so we can talk and give information without telling the required facts to them. I always tell my husband Brent that women are the Archaeologists of speech. We dig until we uncover what we’re looking for. Men or more like, well, like dogs. They just kind of scratch the surface or dig a hole looking for something that might be there. (Note to self: Okay Melissa, let’s put the metaphors away.) I’m the type of person that seems to have the perfect life. I guess it is for the most part. My husband has a great career and I’ve been able to stay at home with my children and not have to worry about too much other than waking them up so they don’t miss the school bus, or making a mad dash to the school to deliver off last night’s crazy round of homework assignment completion. Society might title me as old fashioned…maybe even a kept wife, but there isn’t a harder job in the world than raising children full time. All day, every day. No breaks. (Try that Miss Nine to five.) At least you can get away from sick kids, the homework, the housework, the yard work, etc. It’s always something. I think whoever wrote that “through sickness and health” garb most likely was a man because they must’ve been referring to children. (Okay, men are grown children.) Whatever. Why do women need to give into the social prerogative of giving up who they are just because some college professor has determined that women need to be more like men in order to be more like women? And this is where my friends and I often collide, but it’s also the reason why my life might be more stable compared to theirs. All I know is that women don’t need to be anything they don’t want to be, or are told they should be. Where do I begin? Or should say: Who do I begin with? Chelsye? The tall, blonde haired, big boobed (fake), soccer mom? Andree’? The fiery, red haired vixen that takes no prisoners? Haley? The auburn haired, green eyed jealousy queen? Wenn? The flirty, secretive, seductress? My four best friends, so different, but so similar, and two of them are intertwined, but don’t even know about it. God forbid if they ever read this. I guess I can start with Wenn. I talk with her the most. We often share coffee at her house on Wednesday mornings. That’s her day of reprieve, and our moment of indulgence. Wenn and I have known each other since high school. She’s so beautiful. Wenn’s Polynesian heritage is evident with her perfectly toned skin, long black silky hair. She has a warm smile and charming personality which make her a delight to be with, but she has secrets. Secrets. We all have them. Wenn’s secrets are peculiar to say the least. She’s so beautiful that when she walks down a street, or an aisle in the store, okay-ANYWHERE- men can’t resist staring at her. She’s never reluctant to flirt back with a shy smile, or if the guy is hot, a wink and a smile, or what she refers to as a “winmil.” Wenn is definitely a flirt and she loves being that way. It’s just a part of who she is. She has that air of being faithful to her husband, but I’ve often wondered if she hasn’t used some of her flirting and redefined what being faithful really is. In fact, just the other day, as we sat at the table and made our usual round of griping about the kid’s teachers, shopping, distracted drivers and how everything is overpriced, Wenn showed me something on her cell phone. It was a picture of her standing next to a very large, muscular, (and I must say: very attractive) African American man. She was squeezing his bulging bicep with both of her hands. As I looked at the stud with his flexed arm and my friend that was excitedly squeezing part of his impressively toned body, Wenn sighed as she slid the phone back to her side of the table. She kept her focus on the picture as she talked about how big and developed this man was. She mentioned how she had felt scared and safe at the same time while she stood next to him. She kept staring at the picture while I tried to withdraw information from her. The only time she looked up at me is when I asked if she squeezed anything else? She looked up and smiled. Wenn has her secrets, and I know that she has done “things” and claims to be faithful, but I’ve never been able to get a complete confession out of her. She said that she will divulge all the necessary information when the time is right. None the less, I know Wenn is more than a flirt. She reveals her secrets to me without words, but being the “Archeologist” I always keep digging and searching for the truth. Wenn is my ongoing project. She has a history that waits to be discovered, but it will take awhile before her history reveals itself. Careful planning and excavation is what is needed with her. I wait for that day when she spills it all out and tells me everything. The anticipation is excruciating, but I can wait. I’ll probably be able to take notes and end up writing a best seller based on her exploits! I’m staring at the clock and I can’t believe its 12:30 a.m. I’ve got to wake the kids up in six more hours, but before that, prepare breakfast! Nine to Five my ass! Right now I wouldn’t mind waking up at seven, putting on make-up, taking a warm shower and strut into some office and have a few men flirt with me while and gout too lunch and sit outside for lunch and watch the muscular, tattooed, dirty, rough, construction guys pound on the cold hard steel beams and eventually shape them into beautiful, tall buildings. Watching them work, they’re muscles stressed, listening to them swear as they get more pissed off at something that doesn’t fit quite right…whew. Calm down girl. Calm down. Brent is going to have a naughty wake up call. This is Wenn’s fault. Thank you, Wenn.

Who’d ever think that some mid-sized, Midwestern town would be so “eventful.” Another night, another entry. I looked out my bedroom window and could see two kids, well, teenagers, hugging underneath a streetlight. Love is so simple when you’re young. I think of what my marriage is like sometimes and wonder if it could be different…if it could be better. I don’t know., and maybe that’s why my friends test the waters of infidelity. I think all you’re doing is trading one bag of problems for another, and I know that most marriages aren’t what they appear to be. Case in point: Haley. She’s married to our town’s mayor. In public they seem made for each-other. They hold hands and kiss whenever the cameras are on, but when the cameras are gone and the public isn’t watching, their life together is completely different. Haley is a jealous woman. It seems that she has green blood flowing through her. Her husband Tom is easily pegged as a playboy. His exploits are always in the news, but Haley plays the part of the doting, forgiving wife. She has a charm that people like and are drawn to her. Does she play the press? Of course and she has sympathy from most of the women in town…Except for the ones that she’s slept with, and therein lays her secret. Haley has the ultimate double life. She’a lesbian that’s married to a man. The image they have is so convincing…nobody knows the Her jealousy isn’t of him per say, but more toward the women that find him more attractive than her. She becomes competitive with her husband and does what she can too seduce the women away from him. He thinks she’s incredibly insecure and mistrusting, but he has never realized her attraction and jealous behavior is based on her desire to be more attractive to women than he is. Haley isn’t a serial dater. She’s very particular about the women she wants to be with. The last time we had out talk she mentioned her most recent encounter with Tom’s intern that was working in his office for her internship. She was definitely younger, but shared herself willingly with Haley and Tom, and when Haley realized that, it made her green blood boil. Haley couldn’t stand the fact that this young woman found her husband, (that’s 20 year older than she was) more attractive than her. I told Haley that the situation was very odd and asked if she didn’t feel upset in any way that her husband was cheating on her -with the same person. Her reply, and I quote: “Yes! Fuck yes! Because I’m younger than he is, and I’m better in bed!” Haley is a work in progress. I try to figure her out, and when I think I come close, and then she throws a curve ball at me and strikes me out. Her adventures are interesting, but I haven’t decided myself if I’d like to travel down that road. I really like men, I mean, I love Brent. I’ll look at other men sometimes, but I want Brent, and I know he loves me and wants me as well. Although, when Haley is present he hints at how beautiful she is and has asked if her and Tom are swingers. Sometimes men pick up a scent, it’s usually a perverted scent, but they can be somewhat perceptive at times, but they usually can be given a false trail. I only tell Brent that if Haley and Tom where that way, and given the fact that our town isn’t very large, it would surely be front page news if they were swingers. Life in a small town isn’t much different than being in large city in some ways. There’s gossip, and there’s the truth - which exist in both places, and there’s also the darkness of life, and the intermingling of people in situations that are less than virtuous. That’s what keeps large cities and small towns comparative: the darkness of life. The odd thing is, I happen to be the keeper of the darkness, the tales of the city if you will. I haven’t written too much of my friends adventures, I’m a bit nervous as I write this because I’m not sure where to keep my journal. I only write when Brent is at work, or asleep. Each entry is hand written and kept in a notebook that for now I keep tucked under our mattress on my side of the bed. These secrets need to be kept safe and I must somehow decide on a place that will keep them away from little eyes, or the roving husband that searches for lost pictures of his friends from high-school to post on Facebook. I love this desk that I write on. It was a garage sale item that Brent and I bought when we first got married. It’s got a big stain in the middle of it, the legs are uneven and it wobbles whenever you try using it, but it has character, a personality. I feel guilty for writing the sordid details (forthcoming) about the adventures of my friends and their tales of desire and their ability to dive into life with calculated cravings. Brent just turned over and asked when I’m coming too bed, and as he did he flung the sheets off of his body for me to see his, well, to see him. I licked my lips and stared at what he wanted me to see then I said: “I can’t imagine sharing you with anyone. That’s all mine” Brent waved at me with his “magic wand” and, why am I writing this! I’ll write more tomorrow…

I don’t know who had more fun with the magic wand last night…me or Brent. I’m going to say it was a tie this time, but it usually goes more in my favor anyways. I often wonder how my friends can engage in intercourse with different people. I mean, if you’re used to one person and you know what they like, it’s easy to please them, but if you have to rediscover what works with someone else, or other people that seems like more of a hassle to me than believing its pleasure. Maybe this is where some of my friends decide to explore, maybe I’m missing something? Exploration can be a good thing…I guess, but do you need to explore with someone different? I can’t say that I’m not curious, or even a little turned on by what Wenn hints at, or what Haley describes to me how she feels when she’s with a woman, but I guess my friend Chelsye is the girl I live through. Her statuesque body, long blonde hair, deep blue eyes and soft voice engage me in a way that I catch myself staring at her after she stops talking and she has to wave her hand in front of my face to make me snap out of my trance. I think if I had to pick one woman to be with, it would be her. I know Haley wants her, she’s told me about the dreams she’s had about her and Chelsye. Chelsye is the sexy, divorced, soccer mom. She makes the young men crazy with desire, and the old ones beg for attention, but she’s sweet. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She does have a couple of things that men always notice first about her: her implants, I mean boobs. I can see the guys as their eyes fill with lust as they try not let the gravitational pull of her tightly covered breasts pull their attention toward them and not her face. Chelsye is a flirt, a sweet flirt. She plays so innocent with men, and none of them are wise enough to understand what she’s doing. Today at the soccer game our neighbor Jeff, a single dad, (and a doctor) was sitting next to her. During one of the calls, I could see Chelsye as she leaned her head on his shoulder momentarily and then placed her hand just above his knee and squeezed it. I heard him say something like: “People might get the right impression if you continue doing that.” Chelsye replied: “Oh. I’m sorry. I, I forgot you weren’t my husband. Sorry.” I leaned in close and whispered to her: “You’re good. Really good.” Chelsye looked at me, then winked and said: “Flirting is good for the soul, forget that chicken soup bullshit.” When Chelsye swears, it’s like hearing your grandmother cuss -it seems so unsual, it just catches you completely off guard. So anyways, Chelsye didn’t stop with the shoulder or knee, she waited until the game was over and then walked up to him, shook his hand and apologized for her behavior, but then, BUT THEN! She gave him a hug. A very tight hug and apologized again. As she walked toward me I shook my head slowly and she was mouthing “What? What?!” Chelsye turned around and gave a flitty little wave to Jeff. On the way home she texted me and told me she and Jeff have a little rendezvous planned for the upcoming soccer game. Chelsye is a flirt, and she’s a sweet flirt, but she’s a serious flirt, and that’s what I was referring to earlier about how men aren’t wise enough to understand what she’s doing. Maybe I shouldn’t say that, but Chelsye is so good at playing innocent she just throws off them the trail and let’s them believe their actually the one’s with the upper hand. Chelsye is desirable, even to me. I can’t believe I wrote that…it’s true. I am attracted to her, but I can’t do anything about it right now. I listen to her escapades and she inspires me to try things with Brent. If I ever told him about how I feel her, he would play it cool, but then like any man tell me to explore my desires-with her, and him. She told me about this guy she was with two weeks ago. He was going through a divorce and his wife suddenly died before it was final. She said he wasn’t sad, but felt like it was a blessing and wanted to celebrate with her and another woman. He didn’t know any other woman to ask, so he asked her if she had any friends that might be up for it. Chelsye said she ran through some pictures on her phone and he picked out one that he really wanted. I thought maybe it was Wenn, but she said no, not even close. It was me. He wanted me. Me and Chelsye? She told him that I was married and that made him want me even more, but she finally convinced him that even-though I was an excellent choice, and that even she wouldn’t mind having me participate, it’s not likely to happen. She told him that I was completely committed to my husband. When Chelsye told me about him wanting me, and she wouldn’t mind being with me…it made me re-think my relationship with her. I realized that I would do things with her that I wouldn’t with other women, but that’s her ultra seductive charm. It’s so powerful, I don’t think she even realizes what effect she has on both men and women. Maybe I’ll tell one day. I mean, she tells me everything, why can’t I tell her how I feel, or what I desire? I think she would be very accepting, and I think that’s what stops me: The fear of something new, or rather someone new and trying something different. Maybe my friends are doing the right thing. Brent’s on his own tonight, I’ve got to get Chelsye out of my system. I can’t believe I’m turned on right now, but…I am. Thank goodness for my “silver man.” He’ll he’s always there for me in these moments…which have been more frequent lately. The more I write, the more I think my friends confessions are making me realize that I have some of my own, or at least I have urges that I need to address. It’s not easy being the keeper of the flames. (The flames being my friends.) One loooong bath coming up. Good night, Chelsye.

I don’t what happened with that last entry. I was wound up, but even us girls a have our moments of weakness, right? We sure do. There’s so much to write about and with all the past situations and current ones I don’t how long my journals will be, but I know they will be a release for me. I need to write the important things down in order to keep my thoughts together. To keep all of this bottled up is too much for one person. I now understand why the ancient clerics would sit and write hour after hour, year after year-you have to, otherwise your mind would just melt. The writing is a way to release, relax and to reflect upon the events of your life, or in my case I guess it’s other’s lives. And with that I need to reflect on the red haired devil of our group: Andree’ She’s actually French and didn’t move here until a few years ago, but she fits in so well with my other friends it’s like we’ve known her our entire lives. Andree’ often speaks in both English and French. We know when she’s upset because she ‘ll start explaining something to us in English and then suddenly switch to French and then back again, which leaves us bewildered at times, but she always interprets her fiery, French vocabulary. Andree’ doesn’t work. It’s not because she’s lazy, but she doesn’t need to. Her husband is one of the wealthiest men in the area so she’s given a free reign to do what she feels like, and she isn’t shy about her waywardness, but that’s probably due to the lack of children in the house. Her husband (Viktor) is completely aware of her choices in men and doesn’t seem intolerant to it. Andree’ says they have an open relationship. She can date who she wants and he can’t say anything about it. To her that’s open. To us it’s open and shut. In spite of her directness and bold behavior, we accept her for who she is and can see that she really is very good person inside. Her last encounter had the whole town talking. Andree’ has a penchant for young men. She says their easy to train and will do anything for sex. Well, that might be true, but when the young man happens to be they mayor’s nephew (he just turned twenty-two) and you decide to make out in public place, it’s going to cause attention and spark a firestorm of press and all kinds of gossip. Andree’ told me weeks before the pictures and non-stop talking about her affair with the mayor’s nephew what she and him were doing. She wanted people to see her with him, she said it’s perfectly acceptable where she’s from for a woman in mid 30’s to be with a man in his early 20’s, so to her there’s no reason for anyone to say anything about what she’s doing (or who’s she’s doing apparently.) She took the pictures of her and the young stud that were front page news and placed them on her facebook- she has no fear and has no problems with telling anyone: “You go fuck-off!” who dares to voice their opinion regarding her public, or private lifestyle. Andree’ lives her life exactly the way she wants and makes no apologies. It wasn’t just the kissing in public that sent the press and ‘rumor spreading social butterflies’ (as Andree’ calls them) it’s the fact that the police had caught them several times doing things in public and never did anything more than tell them to “get a room”, but with Andree’s husband being who he is – a very wealthy and powerful real estate developer with the connections to make heads roll, the police knew if they got involved to heavily that Viktor could make one call to the Chief of police and all would be erased or ignored so the press jumped on that and tried to ruin the Chief’s career by saying he’s bought and paid for by the wealthy and named names, but It didn’t work because Viktor also sits on the board of directors for our newspaper (and many others) and when he found out that some hot shot journalist was trying to oust the Chief of Police and gave names- well, let’s just say what was the front page news wasn’t any news anymore, and the journalist somehow decided to take an opportunity out of state Andree’ is a well protected woman, but her husband needs to protect her in order to protect himself as well due to his business connections and other “things” as Andree’ describes it. She has never gone into full detail about what those things are so we leave well enough aone. I remember when Andree’ told me about her relationship, sorry, I mean “Affair” she always corrects me when I say relationship I can hear her French accent in my mind as she corrects me: “I wasn’t in love with him, Mel. And he wasn’t in love with me. It was only sex. It was an affair.” Andree’ is an aggressive woman. She knows what she wants, how she wants it and when she wants it, and “it” being sex. She’s not afraid to share her opinions either. “Someone might share their opinion of me, to me, and I may not like it, so I must tell them. They need to hear it!” She’s definitely a take no prisoners kind of woman and that’s part of her appeal to the men she spends time with. We’re all in our mid 30’s and we all have our moments of self discovery. It’s a common bond we share without having to acknowledge it verbally, so it’s up to me to be the keeper of the flames, my friends. The flames get pretty hot sometimes and after the fires burn out and the smoke clears, it only takes a little while before another spark begins and the whole process starts over. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever end…sometimes I don’t want it too. All situations and characters are fictional

© Copyright 2018 Vonda Kambro. All rights reserved.

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