Body Parts

Kate and Sam were both worn out by nine o'clock and decided to have an early night. Sam settled down in bed, relaxed for the first time that day, and began browsing through the morning papers. Kate came in from the bathroom soon after in her pyjamas, sat down and began brushing her long hair.

"Oh honey, I forgot to ask, did you appoint your new PA today?" she asked.

Without looking up from his paper he replied, "Yes, I got some one."

"That's good."

Kate returned to her hair. After a while she asked, "And is she OK?"

Sam was uninterested in this conversation and gave distracted, minimal replies.

"Yes, she's fine. She'll be OK."

"That's good. What's her name?"

Still without looking up from his paper, "Davina."

"That's nice."

Again another pause while Kate continued brushing her hair.

"Is she pretty?"

For the first time Sam looked up, slightly surprised by the question.

"Not especially."

"What do you mean, 'especially'?"

"Well she's just, you know, OK."

"So not pretty at all?"

"Darling, why are so interested in this?"

"I like to know about these things. I know quite a few of your colleagues and I can imagine you at work with them, so I want to imagine Davina."

Sam returned to his paper without replying.

"So?" She asked again.

"So what?"

"So is she not at all pretty?"

Now making an effort, "Well I suppose some men might find her pretty."

"But you don't?"

"Not really, no. Not especially. Happy now?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You keep saying 'especially'. What does that mean? Why are you being evasive? Is she pretty or not? Do you find her pretty? They seem easy questions to me, honey, but for some reason you don't want to answer me."

"What is this all about, Kate?"

"It's not 'about' anything, I just want a simple answer to a simple question."

"OK, OK, yes, I guess she is quite pretty. Now there's the truth. Is that it now?"

"It's just that a short time ago she wasn't 'especially' pretty and then she was 'OK' and then other men might find her pretty but not, by implication, you. Now it turns out that actually she is pretty, so I'm wondering why you didn't tell me the truth to begin with."

Sam stared at her uncomprehendingly: she was getting at something and he did not have a clue what it was.

"Something is behind all this, Kate, please tell me what."

"The only thing behind all this, honey bunch," sarcasm now slowly creeping into her voice, "is that I ask you simple questions to which you cannot, apparently, give me simple answers and I don't know why." Unable even to approach what this was all about, Sam tried to close the subject down and returned to his paper; Kate to her hair. But not for long.

"Does she have nice tits?"

"Kate!" He screamed, "what is this?"

He was beginning to breathe heavily. He was slightly afraid. But this did not touch Kate.

"What is what, honey?

They stared at each other for some time before she returned to the attack.

"So does she? Or not?"

He fell back on his pillow unsure how to proceed with a situation he was fast losing control of.

"Well?" she asked once more, "does she have nice tits or doesn't she?"

He opted to continue with his policy of reason and self-control.

"They're," he waved his hand around searching for the right, low-key, unprovocative phrase, "just ordinary, just average."

She stared at him, disappointed.

"You don't get this, do you? All you give me are evasions. What is your problem? What, in the name of God, are ordinary, average tits? I ask you if they're nice and you reply like of some kind of consumer survey. I just want to know what her tits are like. Is that such a difficult question? I mean are they big, are they small, round, curvy, is she flat chested? You know, it's not an intellectually challenging question. Just open your mouth and tell me the truth. Yeah?"

All he could quietly and lamely say was, "Why are you doing this to me?"

But the pathos of his voice only invigorated Kate further. She got up and walked over to the bed and knelt down beside him.

"OK let's do it this way."

She undid the buttons on her pyjama top, removed it and pointed to her own breasts.

"Now these are mine. You've seen them a thousand times. So how do mine compare with Davina's? Are hers bigger, a lot bigger, smaller, a lot smaller? Come on, you can do it. Well?"

She put her hands underneath her breasts and lifted them slightly.

"They're not particularly big, I know, but they're pretty firm for a thirty six year old and my nipples are big, which you say you have always liked."

He composed himself and tried to continue with the voice of reason.

She continued to prod him. "Go on, admit it, hers are big aren't they? Huge, maybe?

"Well," he stumbled, "biggish."

She exploded. "Jesus Christ! 'Average', 'especially', 'OK' and now we've got an 'ish' My God what a vocabulary of evasion you have, my love! You see my point, don't you? It's impossible to have a simple conversation because you cannot come clean on anything. You're always somewhere between a lie and evasion. They're big aren't they?"

"Yes!"

"Bigger than mine?"

"Yes!"

"Hooray!" She cheered. "A result! An unambiguous statement! So, this twenty seven year old, ordinary, shapeless lady turns out in fact to be rather pretty with great tits. What's your problem, Sam? What are you hiding from me?"

His mouth mimed the word, "nothing."

"Well, let's consider this interesting question, then. Exactly how do you know she's got nice tits? Eh?"

"Oh Kate, for fucks sake! How do you suppose I know -- because I saw them? You know, she walked into the room so I saw them, like I also saw her arms, legs and head. Like I would see a brick wall if it was in front of me."

"OK," she retorted, "what colour are her eyes?"

He should have seen this coming but he did not. Like in an uneven heavyweight boxing contest, he was being badly pummelled, was tired, losing the will to retaliate and his guard was slipping: she was beginning to pick him off with ease.

"I haven't the faintest idea."

"Well, do you know something Sam, I genuinely believe you. For the first time to-night you have spoken to the point without evasion. And do you know why you don't know what colour her eyes are?"

He slightly shook his head.

"It's easy baby -- you don't because you didn't look! Because you didn't give a damn about the colour of her eyes, like you don't care about the colour of any woman's eyes. But her tits! Well, that's another matter -- you sort that out straight away don't you? The when you found out that they were seriously up to scratch, you gave her the job."

"You are outrageous, I'm going downstairs."

He moved to the door but Kate intercepted him and put her arms across the doorway to stop him.

"Move out my way!"

For a moment she said nothing and her eyes bore into his. Then, very quietly, she said, "Tell me about her arse."

"Oh, God," he cried and slumped down on a chair. She remained in the same pose against the door way and neither of them spoke for a minute.

"Well?" she prompted, "as I have obviously lost out in the tits contest maybe I'll have better luck in the arse department."

She undid the cord on her pyjamas and removed them and was now naked. She turned her back to Sam and bent over so he had a complete view of her rear. Sam closed his eyes to blot out the absurdity of the situation.

"Well, Sam, how does this compare with Davina's? You've always been pretty complimentary about it, especially when I'm a naughty girl and you put me across your knee. Although you have never said so, I know you're a little disappointed with my tits; watching all those young girls bouncing around the office obviously has not helped my cause but I think I do better with my arse."

Still in the same bent over pose, she opened her legs.

"There, that should give you a better view, help you decide more easily. As good as Davina's?"

Then, with renewed energy he sprung up and said very quickly "OK, OK, I'll tell you. She has a fantastic arse. At one point during the interview she dropped something and when she bent over, I thought, wow, what an arse! Just the kind of arse I'd like to put across my knee and spank, really hard."

She looked quizzically at him and then said, "You're lying."

He backed off and walked back to the bed but Kate was not finished yet. He lay in the middle of the bed and she came over and knelt on top of him and slid two fingers between her legs and began a brisk caress. He tried to move away but her legs trapped him.

"Has she done this for you Sam? I know how much you like to watch a woman wank. I also hope she was a little tight and not too wet because I know that's just how you like it. You said I was always perfect in that way. It's just that, what with Davina's five star tits and arse, this little pussy is all I have left to offer."

He finally snapped and used his superior strength to push away.

"You know, Kate, if anyone had come in on the middle of this conversation they would think that I'd been having an affair and you had just confronted me with it. But I haven't done a single, fucking thing wrong."

Kate frowned and looked bemused.

"Done nothing wrong? Now exactly how do you work that one out?"

Sam looked her steadily in the eyes, convinced of his own moral rectitude.

"So," he asked, holding out his hands imploringly, "what exactly have I done wrong? All I did was to interview and then appoint a PA."

Anger now begins to melt into sarcasm in Kate's voice, "No, nothing really. Just that you come home from work, tell your wife, just as you're about to get into bed with her, that you've been ogling a woman all day, who just happens to be your new PA and that you gave her the job solely on the basis that she had great tits and an arse so inviting that you wanted to spank it. Nothing wrong? Having an affair? No, not you!"

"You bitch! There has to be reasons why you're doing this, maybe one day I'll find out."

She finally moved away from the door and Sam went downstairs. There he poured himself a large whiskey. His head was swimming. He needed air and went out into the garden even though it was now past midnight, the end of January and he was in his night clothes.

Upstairs Kate lay on her back in bed staring at the ceiling. She remained there for an hour until she heard Sam's footsteps coming up the stairs. He did not come into the bedroom but went to a small room further down the landing. Kate waited a short time and then went to the room herself. She opened the door and stood in the doorway. On the bed was a large suitcase into which he was packing his clothes. He did not stop packing nor look up at her when the door opened. Kate said nothing.

They were both different now; the fight was over and a strange mutual respect arose between victor and vanquished. The silence eventually ended when Sam asked very softly, "When did you know?"

The rancour and bitterness of the last few hours was gone and Kate's voice almost approximated to a kind of sympathetic, tenderness.

"The moment you walked in to-night. The way you didn't look at me. And when you did eventually did I saw the reflection of another woman in your eyes. I saw it all."

He nodded as if to say, 'that makes sense.'

"Did you at anytime think of me?" She asked him.

He stopped his packing for a moment to consider his answer and said, "no."

"From the moment she came into the interview room I was mesmerised. God, you should see her body. Breasts most men would die for. An arse that should be in an art gallery. I had to have her and quickly. I don't even remember if I asked any relevant questions in the interview. But she knew what she was doing to me and the questions were all irrelevant. She didn't have much of a personality, not especially bright and certainly not particularly qualified for the job I gave her but who cares with a body like that?

"When I came out of the office I just knew she would be waiting for me. She didn't hang around either; walked straight up to me. We didn't even need to go for the formal 'oh-what-a-surprise-to-see-you-here' stuff. I followed her to a noisy wine bar where we would be inconspicuous. The next thing I know I've got my hand up her skirt and she's fiddling with my cock that's so hard it was in endanger of splitting my trousers.

We went back to the office. I've keys to some storerooms that no-one else has and we did it there. I was so desperate I ripped her blouse. I've never had a fuck like it, never. God, does she know how to screw! And the body! Any suggestion that the clothes might have flattered the body, like with most good looking women -- well, not so here. Tits and arse were beautiful, almost beyond expectation. I was prepared to risk anything and everything to have her and whatever I pay, it will be worth it."

His wife stood in the doorway and listen to it all. Never moved. Never spoke. Betrayed no emotion.

As he finished his explanation he secured the straps of the case and put on his coat. He looked straight at her and said simply, "Good-bye, Kate."

Seeing she was not intending to reply he moved to the door and she stood aside to let him through. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, she spoke and he froze as though a film had been paused.

"A word of advice for the future, Sam, in case you ever get bored with screwing and find you need something else: just remember it's impossible to love someone without knowing when they're lying."

He thought for a moment and nodded briefly; a thoughtful nod. He walked down the stairs and seconds later Kate heard the outside door close behind him. Back in the bedroom she sat on his side of the bed and a very small tear, in the corner of one of her beautiful brown eyes, was just beginning its sad journey down her face.