Peter went on to the beach to think. The house was quiet now that Nicole, Joanne, and too-hyper Thomas had gone to the laundromat.
The beach was quiet, too, now that the volleyball tournament was over. Only a few scattered people remained, like those who lived nearby and a few who were cleaning up the mess.
A few couples walked by, holding hands and looking out at the ocean, which was relatively peaceful that day. Peter sighed, partly to break the silence and partly at himself for letting himself get so jealous. It was just that he was lucky to have her and he didn't want to loose her.
"Excuse me, sir?" a voice said from behind him. Peter turned around.
A tall, blond woman stood behind him. He stood up and saw that she was as tall as he was. She wore a thin, light blue sundress, and it showed off her curves quite well.
"Yes?" he asked, remembering she'd asked him a question.
"I was here to watch the volleyball tournament, and my ride left without me," she said, and he heard the seductive sound in her voice.
"Oh?" he asked.
"I was wondering if you could tell me the way to get back to Riverside Avenue?"
"Riverside Avenue?" he asked. Riverside Avenue was about three miles from the beach. "That's pretty far. Were you planning to walk?" He looked down at her feet and saw that she was wearing sandals. They looked nice, but they probably weren't comfortable for walking three miles. "In those?" he added.
"Well, yeah," she said. "I mean, I don't have a car."
"You can't walk that far," he insisted wanting to do a good deed. "I'll give you a lift," he added, belatedly remembering that Nicole had the car.
"Oh would you? That'd be great. You don't have to, I mean I could walk, but like you said, it's real far, and I don't want to get lost."
"Oh, sure, no problem," Peter replied. He glanced down the beach. Micky was swimming in the water, Mike was sitting on the deck of the Pad, writing, and Davy was with a girl. He crossed his fingers that none of them would need the car anytime soon. Anyway, he'd probably be back in about ten minutes or so.
"Oh, thank you, so much," she replied. "My name's Kimberly, by the way."
"Oh, nice to meet you," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Peter."
"Mmm," she said. "Peter. I like that name. Very...manly." Peter blushed slightly.
"C'mon," he said, changing the subject. "I'll take you to the car. "
He lead her back up the beach and to the pad. After stopping inside the house to grab the spare set of keys, they both got into the Monkeemobile and headed down the road.
"My, what a nice car," she said, running her hand lightly along the door. "Where did you get it?"
"Oh, well, it's not mine," he said. "It's my friends'. And it's a long story, trust me. "
"I'd love to hear it sometime," she said, leaning towards him. She ran her fingers slowly across the seat and closer to Peter.
He shifted uncomfortably and changed the subject. "Well, here's Riverside Drive," he announced with relief. "Which house is yours?"
"Um, I think it's number sixteen," she said. "I'm not sure, because I just moved in and I don't remember the address." She moved her hands just a little closer to his legs.
He drove down the street awhile while Kimberly moved her fingers onto his thigh. She began to run her fingers over the fabric of his jeans, slowly. Peter shifted again, uncomfortable, and wondered what he'd gotten himself into.
At long last they reached house number sixteen. "Is this it?" he asked, a little too suddenly, and she jumped, startled, and looked up.
"Oh, yes, this is it, " she said. "Won't you come in, have a drink or something? I've got some cupcakes."
"Oh, no, I really shouldn't," he said, but he knew it would probably be no use protesting. She seemed to have some sort of hold on him, somehow.
"Oh, please?" she asked. "I simply must repay you for your good deed. " She blinked her long lashes over her pale blue eyes.
Peter hesitated another moment, but it was no use. "All right," he agreed finally. "But only for a few minutes." He parked the car and she led him into the house.
The inside of the house was nothing to be admired. Most of the living room and kitchen downstairs were dusty and still filled with boxes.
"You'll have to excuse the mess," Kimberly said apologetically. "I'm just moving in, and I'm not quite unpacked yet." She led him through the living room and into the kitchen.
"Have a seat," she told him, gesturing to the table. She went to a cabinet and began to rummage around. Peter saw that there was a plate of chocolate cupcakes on the table in front of him. "Help yourself to a cupcake," Kimberly added from inside the cabinet.
Peter selected a cupcake from the table and began to munch. "Mmm, these are delicious," he remarked.
Kimberly came up behind him, holding a bottle of champagne and a couple of wine glasses.
"Oh, no, I really shouldn't," Peter said. "I mean, I have to drive home," he added.
"Oh, come on," she cajoled. "It's only one glass . You can handle it. " She put the bottle and cups on the table and stood behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders and beginning to massage him. "Especially you," she added seductively. "With such strong muscles."
"Well," Peter thought. "Okay, but only one glass." He took the bottle and filled the cups with the champagne.
"What shall we toast to?" Kimberly asked, picking up her glass and holding it in the air.
"Um...the winners of the volleyball tournament?" he asked.
"Well, that would work," Kimberly said. Peter lifted his glass and took a sip. "But I'd much rather toast to us."
Peter spluttered, and some of the wine spilled down on to his shirt. "Us?" he asked.
"Oh, your shirt's all wet," Kimberly noticed. "You should take it off." Peter put down his glass.
"Us?" he asked again, but Kimberly didn't respond. She was too busy taking his shirt off of him.
Peter stood up. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"I saw you Peter," she said sweetly. "Watching that woman at the tournament. You argued with her. You were jealous." She walked around him, slowly. "Who is she? Your wife? Don't you want to get back at her?"
"Back at her?"
"She's off running around with other guys, why shouldn't you run around with other women?"
"She's not running around with other guys!" Peter insisted. He didn't notice that Kimberly was slowly leading him into a room off of the kitchen. And in that room was a bed.
"Oh? You mean you believe her?"
"Of course I do," he said. "She's my wife."
She pushed him on to the bed forcefully. He hadn't even noticed it was behind him. "What are you doing?"
Kimberly took of her sundress, revealing all of her curves. "Giving you a chance to get back at her," she replied.
"But I don't want to," Peter protested. He sat up.
She climbed on to the bed and knelt over his legs. Then she shoved him back on to his back. "Oh, come on. You know you do," she cajoled him. She grabbed his arms and placed them on her chest.
"She never made you happy. You only tolerated her, didn't you? Why? She didn't love you. She proved that with her exploits. If she's not faithful to you, why should you be faithful to her?"
"Because-," Peter began, but he was cut off when Kimberly forced her tongue into his mouth. For a few seconds, he found himself actually enjoying it. It was a different mouth, and for a moment or so, he wanted to explore...to move on to something different.
But then he came back to his senses. The kiss was good, but it wasn't his wife. It wasn't the kiss of the woman he loved. He would have felt love in that kiss, but he felt none in this kiss.
This kiss meant nothing.
He pushed her away before it was even over and shoved her off of him.
"No," he insisted. "You're lying to me. She's faithful to me, and truthful, and I..I trust her." As he spoke the words, he realized they were true and he did trust her. He was speaking them from his heart.
He got out of the bed. "I'm sorry. I really am, but I can't do this. Find someone else."
"If you go, I'll call the police," she said. Peter felt a chill run down his spine. Earlier days, remembering, but then he stopped.
"And tell them what?" he retaliated. "That I won't have sex with you?"
"No. I'll tell them that you raped me."
There was a silence. "They'd never believe you," he said.
"Oh?" she asked. "Why not? It's my word against yours. Who do you think they'd believe? The mean, strong, man, or the sweet innocent lady?"
Peter didn't respond. He knew she was right.
"Either you get that sexy body back in this bed, or I'll have the police knocking at your door before midnight."
He thought for a moment. Was it alright to cheat on your wife to save yourself ? No, he realized. That was thoughtless of him, and selfish. He decided to put her first.
"Do what you will," he said to Kimberly. "But I won't dishonor her like that." Besides, he thought to himself, she's probably bluffing. With that, he turned and left the house, taking his champagne stained shirt with him.
