The McCain Marriage Contract

Goddamn it, Vee-Jay. Goddamn you!

I was lacking sex, losing sleep, and devoid of overall peace of mind. And Vee-Jay had the nerve to be dressed in that raunchy lingerie. Granted, it was rude of me to barge into her room like that but why on fucking earth was she wearing that? Why did she bring it along in the first place?

What in the actual fuck was going on here?

It wasn't just the lingerie. It was the open box on her bed. I was no stranger to the ways of the world, so I knew exactly what the contents of the box were and what they were used for. Apparently, Valerie was an even bigger freak than I was. She preferred solo action, pleasing herself all by herself. Seeing her outfit and her arsenal made me realize something: I didn't know her as much as I thought I did. Hell, I probably didn't know her at all.

I kept my focusing on the problem at hand -- that lingerie from hell. I could think of a million ways to rip it off her body, using my hands or my teeth. Or even my tongue. Then after that, there were a million more ways I could handle that sexy body of hers, making it scream under me for more and more.

From where I stood I saw it. The scar. It was unmistakable and very obvious. On our wedding night, I had only felt it with my hands. Now it stared me in the face, the monstrosity of decisions made years ago. I wanted to hug her legs and kiss the scars and ask her forgiveness for not being present when she was hurting. I wished I could forget all that she did back then, how she caused the accident for herself, and only remember the love we once shared. I wished the memory cells in my brain were selectively permeable, sifting away only the unwanted memories and getting rid of them all while clinging to the ones I cherished and held so dear. In spite of the bad memories there were still some feelings in me for Valerie, the ones only she could unlock in me. And it was evident by the hardness that was growing in between my legs. This was a hardness I had spent the past days trying to sustain, with the help of so many girls.

"What the fuck, Raymond?" she asked, clutching her maxi dress to herself. The girl had an endless collection of long dresses and baggy trousers, and seeing her in lingerie was as unexpected as it was delightful. Why did she insist on hiding her curves underneath those hideous clothes? Why did she prefer to deprive me of her sexiness?

She was still yelling when I broke out of my reverie. "You're standing there with nothing to say for yourself, huh? In addition to your long list of distasteful behaviors, do you also not know how to knock? What if I was naked?"

"First off, you're hardly clothed, in my opinion," I said in a manner I knew would make her cringe. "Secondly, I've seen you naked Vee-Jay. I'm sure you remember. Don't act like it's the first time."

"Fuck you, Raymond. You only saw me naked when we were kids and that's a memory you would cherish for the rest of your miserable life because it's never happening again." Her voice sounded angry but her eyes gave a conflicting message. The look in her eyes was one that experience had taught me to recognize and interpret. She wanted me.

"You're sure about that, dear? Because you don't look so sure." I said as I slowly approached her. She looked sexier with each step I took toward her.

She lifted an object high above her head and stared me full in the face. "I dare you to take one more step, Raymond. Then I'll show you the stuff I'm made of."

Once again she sounded really angry but I could not take her seriously, not with the picture I saw in front of me. I laughed until I was sure my insides would be expelled through my mouth. "Look," I said, pointing at her hand. "Look at your weapon."

With the way her mouth opened and closed when her eyes made contact with the weapon in her hand, I was sure she didn't realize what it was when she picked it up. She was just really upset and was trying to defend herself against me. Except that it made no sense whatsoever to defend yourself against a horny man you still had feelings for by hoisting a huge dildo while dressed in lingerie.

I saw the blood rush to her cheeks and flush them with embarrassment. But it didn't stop me from laughing. This wife of mine was so interesting and amusing without even meaning to and these few minutes spent with her were the best so far in the course of our honeymoon, and this was not just because I caught a glimpse of her beautiful body.

Then she did something that made it even more interesting. She laughed. And in that moment, my world was perfect.

When we were younger there was almost no problem I went through that Valerie's laughter couldn't fix, or make better. Whether it was scornful or mocking or pitiful or joyful, it resonated with something deep within my soul. And whenever she laughed, I felt alright; I felt like I could overcome anything, whatever the problem was. Whenever she laughed at me I felt incredibly interesting, instead of upset or despaired. Whenever she laughed with me, I felt like I was doing something right, something that deserved those melodious bells that rang from her vocal cords. And right now, as she laughed, I felt at peace with myself and everything.

Suddenly she stopped laughing and I followed suit. "Why did you stop?" I asked in disappointment. I didn't want the happy moment to be over. Who knew if that was the last time I'd be happy.

"I observed you were enjoying it and it felt wrong," she replied, looking at her legs. Her hands still clutched the dress to her body, hiding most of the parts I yearned to see again.

"It feels wrong that we're having a nice, friendly moment?" I asked her.

She looked up suddenly as if I said something very wrong. "We're not having a nice, friendly moment. We can never be friends," she said quietly and lowered her lashes.

I liked where this conversation was going and so I continued my slow march to meet her. Soon I was face-to-face with her and I saw her fingers tremble as they still held onto her dress. "Why can we never be friends, Vee-Jay?" Her eyes locked with mine and she swallowed hard. Then she said, "Because..."

She never completed that sentence. Her hands let go of her dress and she held my face and kissed me passionately.