TWENTY-TWO

Max surreptitiously watched Lauren apply a coat of lipstick at the vanity in her boudoir, while he stood across the room, dressing for a dinner meeting with a new client. While Lauren slept soundly beside him, he’d barely closed his eyes the previous night, tormented as he was by Paulette’s deranged plan to have a baby—his baby! He’d tossed and turned like a trout caught on a line, cursing the day he’d let himself be hooked by Paulette. For him, their relationship began as a tantalizing flirtation—fodder for the sexual imagination, not a consciously planned affair.

One weekend Paulette “happened” to stop by while Lauren was on Martha’s Vineyard. She wasted no time baiting him, and before he could say “slut” she had him spread-eagled, flat on his back, with his penis at full mast. She took him in with a vacuumlike suction, wrapping him in her tight, warm, wet cocoon. Then the most amazing thing happened: On the upstroke her sex literally snapped his penis, causing the most amazing sensation experienced by man! The pleasure was so intense he nearly passed out as she worked her magic over and over again, driving him nearly insane. At the moment of climax he felt a jolt of electricity surge through him like a cattle prod.

Until then, as far as he was concerned, the snapper was pure legend, like the Loch Ness Monster: No one he knew had ever actually encountered one. At first he thought there was witchcraft involved, or black magic in them thar’ lips, but he later learned that there was a perfectly reasonable and purely anatomical explanation for the snapping action. A small, infinitesimal percentage of women had cervices positioned at such an angle that the penis moved over its ledge and back during sex, resulting in an intense snapping sensation; therefore, the snapping pussy was not some special paranormal hat trick, but actually a physical deformity. In any regard, now he perfectly understood the concept of being pussy-whipped; even though he hated Paulette at the moment, and had never really liked her to begin with, he still felt an unwelcome craving for her magical snapping cervix. He wished to God that he’d never had the pleasure. That Venus flytrap was like a dangerous drug—crack cocaine, one hit and you were an addict. After taking the plunge, he found himself unable to extricate himself, no matter how much he disliked her brash personality or her tacky ways.

He shook his head, a vaguely defeatist gesture, wanting to erase from his mind—and loins—the muscle memory associated with Paulette’s snapping pussy. Of all people, why did Paulette, Lauren’s cousin, have to be one of the few women on earth who actually possessed one?

Weekly rounds of sex with Lauren had continued after the affair initially began, though it became more of a chore for them both, not much different from doing laundry. They’d never had explosive chemistry to begin with, but sadly his affair with Paulette—or more accurately put, her pussy—extinguished any flicker that might have ever existed.

As Lauren blotted her lips, evening the coat of color, he suddenly noticed that something was very different about his wife. A sparkle glimmered seductively in her eyes as she leaned toward the mirror to stroke a touch of mascara through her lashes. He was sure that she’d be humming a happy tune if it were not for his presence. Lauren was literally glowing. Knowing that it wasn’t the result of anything he’d done, he felt a desperate need to get to the bottom of it.

With his chin held high, Max straightened his tie, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Where are you off to?” he asked.

“A gallery opening downtown,” she answered. Her focus never wavered from her own image in the mirror.

She was meeting Gideon at a SoHo gallery that was premiering his latest collection of black-and-whites. Since her visit to his loft, they’d met for lunch twice and talked on the phone nearly every day. She thought of him often, sometimes lying awake fantasizing that he lay next to her, instead of the insensitive log who did. After their last lunch he’d kissed her on the cheek, and she had still felt the touch of his lips hours later.

Max watched her, riveted, waiting for her to inquire about his plans for the night. When she didn’t, he frowned and offered, “I’m meeting a new client for dinner at Cipriani.”

“That’s nice.” She took one last appraising look at herself in the mirror, condoned what she saw, and headed for the door. “See you later.” She didn’t even look back!

There was a time—not so long ago—when she would have tried to engage him, all but begging to know where, with whom, and at what precise time he was doing what, but now she didn’t really seem to give a damn.

Puzzled, he watched her stroll out of the bedroom door. There was something intrinsically different about her recently that had dissolved the impenetrable cloak of sadness that had become her fixture. Lauren’s newfound happiness troubled him deeply. At least when she was unhappy he could rest assured that it was because of him, which affirmed his sense of power and control.

Due to a pathetic combination of ignorance and arrogance, his narrow mind refused to accept the most obvious explanation for the pep in her step. He simply could not imagine his pure, beautiful, blue-blood wife engaging in a torrid love affair with another man, not when she had him. After all, affairs were messy endeavors, and this unfortunate business with Paulette was certainly proof of that.

His thoughts bounced like a bungee cord back to his most pressing female concern: Paulette was pregnant with his child! He felt like one of those dense, brainless athletes who carelessly spread their sperm around, oblivious to the fact that his seed was the equivalent of liquid gold, a substance readily mined by swarms of well-trained gold diggers. He’d always shaken his head knowingly when hearing the woeful tale of yet another baby mama using her spawn to extort money from an unsuspecting man who’d been driven to despair by the smaller of his two heads. Now he was the idiot with no control of his own dick.

As savvy as he perceived himself to be, he couldn’t fathom how this could have happened; after all, he’d always worn a condom. The more pressing matter at the moment was figuring out how to get out of this mess unscathed. Though he and Lauren’s relationship was barely functioning, he had no intention of letting her go just yet, even if she couldn’t bear his child. Her family’s clout was invaluable, opening important doors in both finance and politics. He had to make this situation go away, but he also knew that Paulette would never go for the solution that suited him best. She had waved the news of her pregnancy at him like a homeless drunk with a winning lottery ticket, so there was no chance in hell that she’d ever have an abortion. More drastic measures were definitely in order.

Before Lauren made it out the front door, the phone rang; she stopped and picked up the receiver in the foyer. “Hello?”

“Hey, girl.” It was Paulette, whom she hadn’t heard from in months.

Max tiptoed out the bedroom, down the hall to the top of the stairs, listening carefully, hoping to get a clue to the new Lauren. He felt silly—girlish, really—eavesdropping on his wife. It was a strange role reversal; she was usually the one trying to figure out what he was up to.

“Hi, Paulette, stranger! I haven’t heard from you in forever,” Lauren chirped. “What’s going on?”

Max’s ears really perked up when he heard Lauren say Paulette’s name; then his blood cooled quickly as fear flowed through his veins, freezing him on the spot. Was Paulette crazy and cruel enough to tell Lauren about their affair, and her pregnancy? Oddly, he’d never feared being caught before, knowing that he’d vehemently deny an affair even if his penis were caught trapped in the pussy, but a child was living, breathing proof, a form of physical DNA evidence that was irrefutable.

“I won’t hold you, but I’ve got good news.” Paulette sounded elated about whatever it was.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense; tell me your news.” Lauren set her purse on the table, waiting.

Max felt the muscles around his heart seize as he held his breath.

“I’m having a baby!” Paulette blurted out. Her tone was understandably exuberant, but with a tinge of malice. Beneath her joyous words she taunted, I’m having a baby, and you’re not, and buried more deeply between them was the evil satisfaction she felt for having Lauren’s husband’s child, the one thing Lauren had been unable to do.

“A baby!?” Lauren was shocked, since Paulette hadn’t even mentioned a boyfriend to her in well over a year.

Assuming that Paulette had told Lauren everything, Max felt his heart pound ferociously in his chest. His first instinct was to rush down the stairs to defend himself.

“Yes, a baby.”

Paulette was obviously thrilled, so, regardless of the circumstances, Lauren was too. “I’m happy for you, if that’s what you want.”

Max was on the first stair step when he suddenly froze in place, puzzled. This certainly wasn’t the response to be expected from a woman being told that her husband was having a baby—especially by her cousin.

“So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“He’s an old friend,” was all Paulette said. “I’ll tell you more about him later.”

“Well, we have to get together to celebrate! I’ve got a great idea! I’ll have a baby shower and invite the girls. How many months are you?”

Paulette frowned at the phone. This wasn’t nearly as much fun as she’d thought it would be. She’d imagined her cousin being choked up with jealousy because she was having a baby when apparently Lauren couldn’t, rather than gleefully planning a party to celebrate. She was tempted to really get her attention by dropping the other shoe and telling her who the father was, but that would be premature. First she had to help Max come to his senses, and then they’d tell her—and the rest of the world—together, as a couple. “Just short of four months,” she said.

“We should do it next month in L.A. and make a girls’ weekend of it!” Lauren said. This was sounding like a really good idea. “We haven’t gotten together since Gillian left for L.A.” Plus she needed a good reason to get away from Max, to rethink her own life.

“S-s-sure, that sounds good.”

“Great! I’ll start planning it and be in touch with the details.”

“Thanks, Lauren. I really appreciate that.” The wind seemed to have escaped Paulette’s sails. Why was Lauren so happy, anyway? Paulette liked talking to her much more when she was sad and depressed.

“Gotta, go. Congratulations!” Lauren hung up the phone even happier than she was before picking it up. Though her mother was still livid at Paulette, and convinced that she had somehow hijacked the will, Lauren couldn’t care less about any of it. She had enough money from her trust funds to last her a lifetime, so what was another few million? She grabbed her bag and dashed out the door.

Only after he heard her exit did Max finally move a muscle. He felt as if he’d stumbled into the twilight zone; nothing made sense to him. He had an illegitimate baby on the way, thanks to his wife’s cousin’s snapping pussy, and his normally docile and melancholic wife was suddenly happy and infused with life, and he had no idea why. He had to do something, so he decided to deal with Lauren first, and he’d take care of Paulette later.

Feeling a little more empowered, he marched purposefully into Lauren’s boudoir and carefully went through every drawer there. He was obsessed with finding out why she was suddenly so happy. After fifteen minutes of searching through sweaters, underwear, toiletries, and scarves, he was about ready to give up, when he opened a jewelry case that was stuffed in the back of a drawer that was filled with socks. Inside there was a pouch, and inside the pouch was a package that contained quite a few little white and green pills. A prescription label was on the package, and he noted that the date was current.

He may have been stumbling around blindly in the dark up until now, but one thing was blatantly clear to him: These weren’t barbiturates, uppers, downers, sleeping pills, or Ecstasy. No, they were something much more alarming. All this time, while he and Mildred waited with bated breath for his wife to produce an heir, Lauren had still been taking fucking birth control pills!

He crumpled to the floor, feeling like the biggest loser in the world. His own wife didn’t want to have his baby, and yet he had a delusional, near-psycho bitch ready to give birth, whether he wanted it or not. Something had to be done about all of this.

He only had to figure out what.