“Any objections if me and Roger take a trip down to Carr’s this afternoon? You need anything?”
Carr’s was simply the baddest, best hardware store in the Berkshires, in Pittsfield to be exact.
Barb’s eyes met mine, turning her head from the sink, her hands working on Friday night’s dinner pot. The slightest of smiles flickered over her face.
“You asking permission?”
“Depends.” I hooked my suspenders with a pair of thumbs and rocked back on my heels, hoping I channeled some old confident yeoman farmer in his venerable backwoods New England domain. We stared at each other in our old kitchen with its ancient windows, glass unglazed, a bit rattly in wintertime winds. I was aware I might look ridiculous.
Barb arched her left eyebrow. I wish I could do that. Both of mine always go up at the same time. But I loved the quizzical, dare-me look that emerged on her face.
“Depends, you say? Well you wouldn’t have asked if it was just a legitimate errand.”
She put emphasis on the word “legitimate.” Each of us would play this little game out for kicks.
“Both.” I shifted my feet. “Legitimate hardware needs. For the VW.” I stood there feeling the lovely little frisson that accompanies matters of the groin. “But the other as well.”
Barb wiped her hands on a towel and looked into my face.
“Okay by me. I know it has been awhile for you guys. Hope you get what you want.” The barest hint of an amused smile.
She was ambiguous on purpose. Could be referring to the hardware store but probably the something else.
“So do you need anything?”
A more definite smile. “Only that you tell me about it tonight. And please save something for me, okay?”
I could relax my face. “You’re on, love.”
A little kiss and I was out the door.
Hot damn. Roger and I hadn’t had a chance at each other for weeks, and I could scarcely contain my excitement as I fired up the old red and white two-tone vintage bus, glad my twelve-volt conversion made starting the thing easy. And the VW hadn’t had a proper drive in ages, either.
The old sex life had gotten both simpler and more complicated since midwinter, when our bombshell event occurred, and Barb had found out about my little preoccupation with Roger’s penis. On one hand, things had vastly improved, so long as I got the go-ahead, which had occurred just now in our kitchen.
On the other hand, Roger and I hadn’t seen nearly as much of each other as before we got discovered. Back then we had gotten real good at planning and hiding our trysts with a certain amount of reckless abandon that actually proved quite exciting. Until now that it wasn’t so common, I almost hadn’t realized just how often we had hooked up for a good sperm-relief session. But at least we were no longer sneaking around.
Roger hopped into the cab with a grin on his face and a spring to his step.
“Clay. Super to see you.” He patted my groin across the bench seat. “Business first, then pleasure?”
“Not sure we’d qualify as New Englanders if that wasn’t the order of things.”
The change in status had affected Roger more than anyone else, I reckoned. Barb and I had done some sexual rekindling, which was good, but it left Roger much more out of it all. I had two sexual outlets, he was down to just me, and not as often. His wife Carrie couldn’t handle his guy desires and had withdrawn from the sexual arena almost entirely.