Richard Vastag watched Susan Malloy as she removed her jumpsuit. The odd thing was that Richard knew that she knew; that he was watching her. She could see his pupils dilate in the locker room mirror as she disrobed slowly; allowing her suit to glide over her NASA sculpted curves; her hair falling as if flowing from the heavens themselves. Each silken strand gliding over her svelte shoulders and finally embracing the shape of her perfectly formed breasts. She‘d even winked at him and all Richard could do was mop his own brow and try to contain the nearly overwhelming effect she was having over his body.
Trying desperately to avert his gaze from this display, Richard feverishly fumbled with the Velcro that held his jumpsuit together. It parted at alarming volume as he noticed with embarrassment the stiffening of his trouser area. Now he had to turn so she’d not see the effect that she was having over him. “Ooh does this mean you’re pleased to see me?” Gerry’s voice shattering the mood now, as Richard looked up to the face of the man leering at his tightening crotch. Richard blushed as Gerry mulled over to Susan, “Told you!” Susan giggled, she tousled her hair and nibbled at her lip in that sensuous yet coy way that only Susan had: “Nah he’s married, Gerry you’re such a tease!”
In that moment, Richard had bemoaned her voice; hated the way that she had flirted with Gerry, that arrogant prick. The way that her eyes flowed over Gerry’s near nakedness calmly absorbing every contour of his perfectly sculpted gym body, made Richard want to wretch. Richard eyed his own flabby stomach, the mirror’s reflection of his balding head and his almost skeletal wrists. He sighed resignedly and clambered into his civilian clothes unceremoniously. By the time he’d changed his clothes, perfect Susan and gay Gerry had left the locker room. That was surely a good thing, he mused glancing at his watch. He was going to be home an hour early; unless he stopped off for a beer, that he really didn’t fancy drinking. Richard was never in a hurry to go home, it was a place where passion, love and fulfilment were little more than electrical words; floating in an e-dictionary somewhere in the middle of the e- library’s vast online archives. Each word was a lost concept in a callous world; yet sorely missed none- the- less.
Richard pulled up at the house and watched the light flick on in the master bedroom; he watched the silhouettes of a female form as her legs opened, then a male form rising between them. He watched the display dispassionately for what seemed like hours and mere seconds at the same time. Moments of frozen time that emblazoned themselves into the annals of his aching memory. Richard switched off the engine, the hovercar slowly descended to the driveway. The house seemed to be a mile away and yet time plays wickedly at the imagination in times like these. Richard felt curiously numb, as he unlocked the door and crept into the house. Closing the door slowly he could hear them now; voices in the bedroom panting and giggling in sordid sexual subterfuge. His feet seemed to glide to that first stair, and then he was slowly and quietly creeping endlessly upward. Up those ethereal stairs he drifted toward those sounds; the noises of marital nightmares.
Passing a picture now of the children in their mother’s arms; two spoiled and ungrateful teenagers a progeny as loveless as their own mother. Their mother yes, that bitch who right now was romping with a man that was more likely to be those children’s father; than the very man that called them his daughters. Richard peered into those bedrooms and gently closed their doors en route to his ultimate redemption; his very destiny.