Sipping her coffee at the kitchen table grandma turns to me as I cut a watermelon into perfect wedges on the bar and recites a second hand story about a man in town who cheats like a dirty dog. “I’ll tell you something little sister. Some men ain’t no damn good!” I look up giggling and say “what do you mean?” She blows on her cup and winks as she explains there are two types of men in the world. I put some of the melon on a plate and join her at the table. Evidently, and even though it isn’t right, she goes into the latest tale of this small town Lothario and his secret exploits. She spares no detail and gleefully reveals who he had this red hot affair with. Soon the newness of the story begins to fade and I see the kind Christian lady that she really is. As she catches her breath and remembers herself she chides that it’s not right to enjoy another’s pain. The long suffering wife she feels compassion for, but somewhere in her phrasing I detect disdain. For what woman would stay and take the scraps this man gives her? I tell her I that I sure wouldn’t put up with a cheating husband and feel confident and maybe even a little smug that I could outmaneuver him and not let the thought of him choosing another over me hurt. I say “if he doesn’t think I’m enough then I don’t want him anymore!” But to admit that means I never trusted any man deeply enough to be that vulnerable. At the time I didn’t realize this and I’m sure it goes without saying with the profession I have chosen. She ends with the usual whispering of “now don’t repeat what we talk about at home.” I assure her that I won’t because you don’t want gossip to get back to you and after all it’s just gossip. Next time in church I see his wife and enjoy her graceful and delicate way of playing “I’ll Fly Away”. She’s been the church organist as long as I can remember. I study her cool poker face and repeat to no one that “she’s a giver” while secretly feeling sorry for what people are saying about her family. Marriage is a sacred thing, but it’s not easy being in love long after the romance has faded. Why did she stay with him? Perhaps it’s as simple as she took her commitment to her husband seriously even if he dropped his cross long ago. To stay and raise your children in a loveless marriage is suicide. To leave is murder. It’s not that he’s not doing his part, but that she wonders if with all she gives does he truly care? Is he doing his part when it comes to his wife? I’ve sat in on countless bible classes when I used to be holy. Sometimes a discussion about giving it all to Christ would morph into more of strategical meeting as these women pitted themselves against some tramp who was newly divorced and dressing a little too loudly in comparison to every other woman’s modest and eternally acceptable neutrals. I observed the looks of contempt and fear as it was whispered who she was and where she came from. I remember how I couldn’t wait to lay eyes on her in our bright white sanctuary with its comfortably padded pine pews and stained glass bible story windows. I’d watch carefully for the one person I didn’t know to come through one of the doors at the front of the sanctuary by the altar. Eventually she would prowl in and I would watch as her new Sunday heels would make deep impressions in our dark orange carpet. It was hard to miss this redhead or bleached blonde who had the hens in my Sunday School class mentally frazzled and plotting her excommunication. I was never worried much of being shunned because I spent my twenties in between marriages and no one thought I would take their husband away. I knew these men from my childhood, had been friends with their now grown kids and simply wasn’t interested in them as possible lovers or more. On the other hand, it was titillating in a way I’m sure was inappropriate and I admonished myself for enjoying the flutter of a younger and more desirable woman either knowingly or unknowingly throwing it out there for whatever man will take it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. A fresh piece of ass wields a lot of power and it can be so much fun for the lucky philander and a small town hungry for the entertainment value of a tawdry and titillating affair. What I learned as a young girl and then as a young wife that as time goes on I am more convinced that being a wife isn’t all that Better Homes & Gardens said it would be. I changed a lot of diapers and cooked a lot of meals. Ran countless errands. Nursed and comforted my husbands when they didn’t feel up to the task. Gave and suffered and bled until my heart cracked and I was sure I was gonna die. But don’t get me wrong. I believe in marriage and motherhood and Cinderella and a perfect love that transcends time, but I’m not so sure it was for me. You see, I get bored easily and the reason why I’m sure I cannot tell you. I never gave much thought to being one until a cousin of mine got pregnant and had to marry at eighteen. I think I was looking for daddy and whatever relationship I stumbled into would have to be with a man that I respected or at least looked up to. He would have to be smarter than me and confident in a worldly way so that I could remain in awe of him as our love waned. I know that’s a tall order. On the other hand, I’m not your average woman and I don’t think I ever was. And what did I do when I stumbled out of the gate into adulthood? At the age of twenty I accepted the first proposal I was given. To me being a wife was all about being subservient. That’s what I had been taught in church and at that point in time I wanted to be a hen rather than the sexy divorcee. From afar I always admired the whores and the home wreckers for their brazen and fully developed sense of selves. She is a woman who would suck any cock that would give her sanctuary. Selectively. Of course. He had to have some sort of means because all men pay for it in one way or another. I just couldn’t imagine living with the guilt and shame which accompanied that conquest. Also, and for the record, when one of my husband’s did cheat I didn’t give up and I took his scraps like the good Lord intended. I do think about the mistresses, whores and sluts I’ve known and if you remember historically there is always another woman to satisfy the unrelenting lust of kings and noblemen and even a deacon like Brother Tom, Dick or Harry from your local First Baptist Church. Giggling to myself, I consider my personal conquests with men. According to my last count I’ve sucked more cocks than the town slut or hot real estate divorcee could possibly dream of. As is with most things people forget the woman you’ve been married to for the last fifteen years was the one that ended the twenty year union that came first. So, why would a woman marry these days? There is love. I think as things change for some women the hassle of a man just isn’t worth the comfort. This goes both ways and many clients have told me how deliriously happy they live now without their ex and her “drama” and “unrealistic expectations” of how much a god damned man he should actually be. Women today are more self reliant and can do most things now without a husband or boyfriend lying on her couch and eating all of her groceries. But there is one thing that is hard for women and men to live without. Human contact and tenderness. Close your eyes and picture a woman and a warm presence making her feel safe and lavishing comfort and attention. Giving and probing with his tongue at the nape of her neck watching her giggle and spasm with abandon as he makes her achingly aware of how good it feels to be desired. Hot thick fingers massage her lower back and fan upward along her spine crawling to those soft and weary shoulders. Now he’s holding her up with those strong fingers. She just have to be as beautiful as he’s making her feel and this adoration is somewhat guaranteed to women as long as they want to play the game. Every woman is a flavor and fortunately most men want to sample all of them. No dildo can match the heat of a man consumed by lust for the woman in front of him. Then imagine as he parts her thighs and pulls down her panties. She wriggles and moans with delight. Soon his face is buried in her garden and he sucks and slurps and fingers her ever so sweetly. As her back arches and her head rolls backward into the mattress he’s ready to mate with her. Giving him a little oral in an attempt to make him as hard as he can be she sucks him as he kneels on the bed bedside her. When he can no longer wait he moves in between her legs and gives her himself while she moans and gasps as he strokes her sticky and feminine goodness. For some reason maybe beyond his understanding he wanted to fuck her tonight and once he’s sated he’ll be better. He married his wife. He paid for a whore. He desires this mistress who may be his undoing. Why shouldn’t he enjoy what they give him? Take it all!