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1 post categorized "Bitch Lit"

March 25, 2008

Sting in the Tail -fiction

After nine years of marriage, Mary knew that the holidays were not a good time to ask her husband for a favor. There were few things to smile about; Daniel’s eyes lingered over the cold meats. She reminded him to hurry up. He scowled; his warm breath elevated his sandy fringe. It was the same breath that tantalized her damp neck.

“I’m leaving in five minutes. I thought you’d be finished by now,” she said. Then again…

She’d often joke about his lengthy shopping trips. They’d laugh, and their limbs would fall in place. Caresses, and kisses; marathon love sessions.

The cute anomalies became frightful over the years. It was strange how she ignored his peculiarities; he’d stand, for minute at a stretch, reading food labels. Their lives diverged after Jess's birth: his tendency to control every shopping expedition. You should buy the other yoghurt. It has both strains. Strains?
How stupid, why of course: acidophilus and bifidus.

She leaned against the cool metal edge of the refrigerator. Would Daniel snap out of his meditation to ask her about her day?

“Daniel. We have twenty minutes!”
“Where is Jess?”

By Christ, he’d noticed!
“With my parents. They’re expecting us at the school hall.”
“Give me a few more minutes, there’s a special in aisle five and I need to stock up.”
He hadn’t desired stocking up on her body; his eyes preferred carbohydrate ratios and percentages. He could recite each calorie load per gram. It all began with his affair, the one he kindly confessed. Oh, she noticed it. He’d gone off his clothes; needed a new fitness regimen, and attended office socials. He’d gone from devoted family man, to corporate animal.
“We have every thing we need…Shit, we went shopping yesterday!”
“Darling, please…people,” his eyes narrowed. An older man smiled, and gingerly picked up a pack of sliced ham – without reading the ingredients. Her longings stirred her senseless. If only he were thirty years younger. Most were pedantic about …

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