The Interview
Authors Note: This is a
short tale on the lady who is married and why and how her marriage works.
Contests rules:
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I carried the
small bag of groceries into the kitchen while she carries the rest. It is not
that I am lazy but she is much younger than I. More to it, she needed the
exercise more than me. I still have a household of chores to do while she is to
nurse him on his medication and other needs. Oh, yes; she still does the jabs
while he used to do the thrust. A motion in rhythm I would admit. I knew it all
as she is his other wife on papers and my consent. What about me you may ask? I
am still his prime wife. How many wives does a person have? but my time is over as all the urges are gone.
The thing I need least is more bending of my limbs. For the last ten years, I
leave the acrobatics to her while I watched soap on cable TV.
He hollers from
his bed as he knows we are back. "Does that man not gets up and do his things
anymore?" I had to ask of her.
"If he does,
we would be washing the linens and bathroom every hour or he just may die of
contamination." I heard her reply and laughed at it.
"That would
be his undoing, but we shall be contented that if he does not get it up or we
would be having more than arthritic pains in our joints." She laughed even
louder, and the hammering from the bedroom sound ever louder. He is one lucky bastard
to have two wives when others cannot even handle one in their lifetime.
Pardon me, as I forgot
my manners in this period of age. Please be seated while I unpack the
groceries. You wanted to know my life story, and so I would tell you briefly about
it.
My name is
Gertrude Mason; married to Peter Mason for over thirty-five years now. Blissful
I would admit as we are comparable in love although we are age differences. I
am older than him by fifteen years, and considering I married him at thirty-five;
we had a good fragging relationship of over two decades. Oops, pardon me, my
dear. I shall try not to be explicit in the expression. I substituted the spelling
so it would not offend any readers. It's a trait of my younger days when I was
a tycoon daughter handling all his businesses while my dad lazes away on those
cruise ships. I can assure you handling the men in the organization requires me
to forget that I wear a skirt most times. Most times, I leave them red-faced
with my expletives as I am my dad's girl. He loves me too much to see me wasted
in some kitchen. He trained me for his business and I learned most of it on his
coaching. And that includes the expletives.
It was my dad's
plea to me to get hitched or be ditched from his inheritance. So I did as my
dad told me, I married the toy boy that was fragging me with more vigor than my
torch. He is not exactly a toyboy I picked up out of a lineup but one I had
laid my eyes on in the mailroom of the office. I did admit I made more trips
than needed to see him in the room as it's not every day, you get blasted by
the sight of those sinews of muscles as he grabs the boxes of mails to search your
mails for you. If not for the HR Department next door, I would have crash every
rule on harassment if I had let my heart do the bidding.
Pardon me again,
but I would be darned honest with you. At that age of virility when my peers
are humping their husbands, I am humping over the ledgers and business plans. I
do not need to drag my body over to drape over a husband who insists I do my
wifely duties as befitting my vows. So I took on the next alternative and be humped
when I am in the mood. Be darned with his lust, as long as my mine is not left
out lusting. Yes, my dear, I am careful with my words now. So I took on the
mail boy to be mailed to my bedroom and I made sure he delivers on time and
more than once. As you know from above, we got married but did I argue with dad
on the matter.
"What do you
mean he is too young? Dad, you fillies are way too young for you and you did
dally when you decided to play tiddlywinks with them. Well, at least in my
game, I have not forgotten my partner's name whereas, with yours, you can't
even remember which set of winkies should you tidy." I won the argument
and he consented to me marrying my beau of fifteen years difference. But he did
not attend my wedding and nor I cared.
Well, we had it
going for two decades and when dad slipped away in one of his mistresses' arms;
I am being polite here again. I find myself holding the fortress of his
business and trying to fence off potential admirers for my body and soul. The
former as you were taken care of, but the late forbids me to share my hard
works on their thrusts. So I decided after much deliberations to foreclose the business
and retired for a lavish lifestyle. It was on the anniversary of my double five
age, I called it quits and embark on a long-delayed journey as a passionate couple
although I have more gray hair than he has on his lower torso. Careful
selection of words, darling. My toy boy now was more a mediocre partner in the
tussle. But so was myself given the numbers clicking double five, I find the
urges needed more of a rub to a tug. But we find the years we had before this
did build up a more permanent fixture to our emotional needs. I admit it was
the first time, we genuinely declared our love for each other that year. That
was also the turning point to us that we needed more than a frag in our life;
we needed some new generations. Who wants to be old and feeble plus lonely?
But to my dismay,
he was stricken down by illness to his spine; I can't say that his previous
endeavors were not too strenuous on the structure. He was sent off to bed and
listed a list of not to do. So shelf our plans for the planting of seeds. I did
consider surrogating but I felt we are not going to borrow when we should be
lending to each other. As he took to bed, I took on other chores. In a way, I
was relieved in a manner as I could now tend to my garden or bake a cake in
peace and not be jolted on the bend. As I said earlier at double five, a jolt
could be fatal to the heart if not a bruise on the forehead. But trying as it
is to accommodate his new lifestyle, I had to secure a nurse to take care of
him.
No, my dear, I was
not smiling like you then when I find her nursing goes beyond his back to the
front. I wanted to kick the seductress out of the home but he pleaded on the
mercy of our love. Now I am not without any, as I felt he deserved more for his
services of past, and so I consent to him being served in his present state. If
we had reversed our physical self and age, this lack of satisfaction would make
me forced my other half to satiate my lust for it. With all factors considered,
I am still my dad's daughter, as I weigh the cost and benefits, so I signed the
consent form. Yup, I told him, she would be matrimonially attached or I would
detach him of his shorter spine.
But her presence does
not undermine, as we have a mutual pact. She works and I rest, and we can all
share a meal during supper. Beastly, you said? No, my darling, it's not. As I
am now seventy-five and she had admonished much of his needs except for the
occasional tug. She finds her contentment as she has a family of three who
would one day party on my leftovers for them. It's not a large sum but they
need not do a single hour of work for the rest of their life.
So tell me who in
this world would you frag for and get contented later in life. I knew you would
see it my way. But picked a younger woman, a young man. I am past my time to be
excited at what you have to offer.
No, I did not
peek. It was just too obvious not to be noticed. I am still a woman in me after
all.
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