Chapter 50:

Audrey kept me from work for several days until I could heal. She allowed me to stay home and not come with her to her office, which was a godsend. I needed time alone, away from her. I even decided to let my kids skip school one day so we could spend some quality time together. I treated them to a nice lunch at one of their favorite restaurants then took them for ice cream. Brooke grinned ear to ear as she licked her strawberry cone and Nate inevitably smeared chocolate all over his cheeks. For a moment, even while sitting on my daughter’s shoulder, I could trick myself into believing my kids weren’t in their senior year, weren’t about to go to college, and weren’t on their way toward leaving the nest. 

But they weren’t five years old anymore. And soon, it would be just Audrey and I alone in our big house. That thought should have been melancholy, yet exciting, but for me, it was terrifying. 

I gulped down my fear of the future and focused on the present. Brooke offered me a bite of her ice cream, knowing it was one of the only foods I could still eat since it was dairy-based. 

“One lick, OK? I don’t want you to get an upset tummy,” she said. “Mommy would kill me.”

It was true, even though ice cream had milk in it, there were other ingredients that my body would reject if I ate too much of it. And she was right, Audrey would “kill” her if I got sick. She would probably “kill” me too, so I listened to my daughter and took a single lick. 

God, it was good. Just because I’d been on a diet of breast milk for over 20 years didn’t mean I lost a taste for certain foods. Ice cream was one of my guilty pleasures. I preferred chocolate, but Nate was too busy stuffing his face to even think to offer his tiny dad a bite. Brooke was always a bit more considerate than her brother, even if she had a penchant for teasing him about his shortness every once and a while. She always offered to help around the house and help me get around. Nate usually had to be reminded about his chores, but he was great in other ways. He was a wonderful athlete for one, something I admired greatly. And even though he sometimes lapsed in his family responsibilities, he often surprised his mother and I with random, amazingly thoughtful gifts. One time he got us a matching teacup set, with normal-sized mugs for Audrey and miniature mugs for me. Don’t ask me how he got his hands on such high-quality ceramic ware, but our jaws were on the ground. 

Soon enough, we were back in the car, ready to head home. It was still only 2 in the afternoon, which meant Audrey wasn’t due back at the house for another couple of hours. Brooke took the wheel and Nate sat in the passenger seat with me in his lap and his hand over my chest like a seatbelt. 

Back at the house we played board games in the dining room. I sat on my shrunken chair on top of the table and the kids sat next to each other across from me. I asked to play Operation, and they were happy to oblige. They knew it was one of the only games I actually had an advantage at because of how tiny I was. And like always, I didn’t get shocked once and easily tweezed all the intestinal blockages from my patient. 

“Good job, Dad!” Nate said in a slightly patronizing tone after my decisive win.

“Yeah, good job!” Brooke added. “Now can we play Catan?”

“One more round?” I asked.

They rolled their eyes. Brooke said no and Nate said fine. It seemed that my son was willing to indulge my desire to be an easy champion, but Brooke wasn’t, which meant they were at an impasse. And when that happened, they’d tussle, and Brooke would pin him almost instantly. Their fights were akin to a grown woman beating on an 11-year-old boy. So, to avoid that, I just acquiesced and said, “Fine, let’s play Catan.”

The game lasted over an hour and a half, and I got destroyed. That was mostly because Brooke and Nate were far better at it than me and partly because I had to be reminded of every obscure rule. I would go to use a card or put down a settlement and be told, “you can’t do that.” 

Eventually, Nate built his final city and flipped over all his cards. He reached 10 victory points, which meant he won the game. I could tell Brooke was pissed because she was neck and neck with her brother, but she wasn’t being a sore loser. Some part of me wanted to be a sore loser because I only had 4 victory points and wasn’t ever in the running, but I was their dad. I was happy that they could kick my ass at most things now. It meant they were growing up.

Nate’s bragging session was cut short when the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. He and Brooke immediately got up to go greet their mother and Brooke grabbed me before I could say a word. 

We walked into the foyer to find Audrey kicking off her shoes. She was wearing a high-waisted forest green skirt with silver buttons down the middle and a black ribbed turtleneck. I always loved her work outfits, this one included, so I had to consciously stop myself from getting hard in my daughter’s grasp.

“Hello! How was your day, guys?” Audrey asked, now barefoot and cycling her gaze between taller Brooke and much shorter Nate.

“It was really fun actually,” Nate said, “We got lunch and ice cream and played games.”

“It’s been a long time since we just hung out with Daddy, so it was really nice,” Brooke said as she pet my head. 

“Well, I’m glad you had fun. Dad is awfully generous for letting you two skip school today, but I have nothing to worry about grade-wise, do I?”

“Nope!” they both said.

“Alright, good. Brooke, can I say hi to your father?”

“Yup!”

I went from one woman’s hand to another, though Audrey’s fingers always constricted around me a fair bit tighter. Young and careless versus old and cautious, I guess. She kissed my head like it was a lollipop, slobbering all over my face and neck. Nate recoiled at the sight and Brooke laughed. 

When she was done, she held my wet face a foot or so away from hers and said, “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” I said, looking at her chin. “Wanna watch our show? You can skip cooking if you want, and I can just order something.”

“No, that’s OK, honey. I already have salmon defrosted, and you guys already went out for lunch. I don’t like us eating out twice in one day.”

“Alright, that’s fine.”

“Do you want to help me cook?”

“I would, but I think I’m going to review some files before I go back to work tomorrow.”

The kids left by this point, which I was grateful for. Audrey’s face twisted into a pained expression, and I knew what that meant. She was keeping me home for the rest of the week at least. 

“I already told Lizzy not to come until next Monday,” she said, just as I expected.

I didn’t bother to ask why. I just asked to be taken upstairs. 

“Can I at least explain why I don’t want you back at work yet?”

I said nothing and didn’t look at her, seething inside her strong meaty hand. 

“I just want to make sure you’re OK before going back. Physically and mentally. You need a break. Your partners can all your clients just fine, and Lizzy is fantastic at her job. I want you to relax and not have to think about anything for a while.”

“Take me upstairs, Audrey.”

“OK, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

“Do you want anything else? A cup of tea with some of my milk, maybe?”

I did want that, but I couldn’t bear to say yes. I was angry with her, and I wouldn’t let her have the satisfaction of filling me up with her delicious breast milk.

“No.”

“You have to be hungry, Desmond. Please just let me—”

“I said no! OK? Just please…take me upstairs.”

I spent the next few days relaxing, just like Audrey wanted me to. Mainly because I couldn’t leave the house anyway. I rewatched comfort TV, mostly old sitcoms from my day. Scrubs, How I Met Your Mother, and King of Queens were my favorites. 

And when I’d get bored of that, I’d go upstairs and look through Instagram. I tried to delay my social media stalking of Jackie, but every day, I looked at her profile more and more. And by Friday, I went upstairs to solely look at her pictures and well, jerk off to them. 

I felt dirty after doing it, especially after just getting caught with her about a week earlier, but then I justified it. I wasn’t harming anyone after all, and if anything, it was Audrey who’d harmed me. She used me and carelessly tossed me aside like a dirty washcloth. Then she added insult to injury and injury to injury by wearing me in her stockings. And to cap it all off, she imprisoned me in a desk drawer.

She and I hadn’t had sex since she rammed me up her pussy following the Jackie revelation, and we slept apart. She took the bed, and I took her sock drawer, which she left open. She was very careful about touching me, not wanting to hurt me accidentally. Her concern rang hollow, however, because she had no problem intentionally hurting me when she was justifiably angry. 

And what would happen the next time she felt vindicated, and her temper flared? Would she throw me across the room? Would she stuff me down the back of her panties? Would she spank me?

I didn’t care to find out, so after I snapped at her for not letting me go back to work, I resolved that I would never give her a reason to get angry at me again. I would be a dutiful little hubby that did exactly what he was told, no questions asked. 

The first thing I did toward that end was deleting Instagram, AKA temptation, off my phone. Just like for the first twenty years of my marriage, I would go back to completely ignoring Jackie. The next thing I did or tried to do was ditch my somewhat cold attitude with Audrey. 

On Saturday, we woke up at around the same time. Both of us were off and had nothing to do that day but be with each other. The kids were sleeping in and would most likely go off and do their own thing with their friends and significant others. Audrey leaned over my drawer to see me snuggled up inside one of her black crew socks. 

“Gosh, you are just so cute,” she said, hanging her chin on the edge of the drawer, “Are you ready to get up?”

“Yeah sure.”

I got out from the sock, and she picked me up and placed me on her shoulder. I held onto her hair as we rode into the bathroom. We freshened up, got dressed, then went downstairs to start the day. 

Still on her cushiony shoulder, I sat idly by while she opened the fridge and looked for sustenance. It was full since she’d just went shopping the night before. Audrey liked nothing more than a stocked fridge. 

“I think I’ll have just 10 eggs today. I’m trying to lose a little weight.”

Her usual was 12 eggs or, if she was feeling healthier, two heaping bowls of oatmeal, filled to the brim with strawberries and bananas. 

My usual was her nipple in my mouth. I knew the gobs of food she was eating was the reason, in part, she was able to produce so much breast milk and feed me so well, but I really wished she would cut back more than a little bit. Besides, she didn’t need to hork down so much food on my account. Her breasts already produced way too much milk for me to drink. We had a separate freezer in our basement filled with bottles of her milk. And she always had to squeeze her tits empty in the shower. If she ate a regular number of calories, she would still be able to produce enough for me.

But again, the last thing I wanted to do was start an argument, so I kept my reservations to myself. Instead, I tried to be useful. I know how much she did around the house with me being all small.

“How are you eating them, honey?”

“I was thinking scrambled with a side of toast. Why?”

“I can scramble them for you. And I can make you toast. Well, as long as you put everything in front of me.”

“Are you sure you can do it? I mean…”

“Yeah, I can do it. Why don’t you set me down on the counter?”

“Alright, wow!” she said, clearly a little taken aback by my sudden desire to make her breakfast. She took me off her shoulder with two hands and put me onto the granite counter. 

“This is really nice, sweetie! I’ll get you all the ingredients and I’ll watch you cook from the kitchen table. No pressure!”

She went back into the fridge and grabbed a carton of eggs and a stick of butter. In the pantry, she fetched a full loaf of pre-sliced bread, which was nearly as tall as me standing upright. Then she got everything else I could possibly need and put it all in front of me, including a frying pan, a bowl, a whisk, and a spatula. She also moved the toaster from the other side of the stove to my side so I could realistically toast her bread. 

When it was all done, she jutted her hips to one side and put her hands on them. She looked down at me for several moments with a wonderful smile. One imbued with hope and glee. I tried to return it but the best I could do was to scratch my head awkwardly. 

“Before you start, let me give you a kiss.”

She reached for me faster than normal, startling me. I jumped backward and hid my face. Not realizing what I’d done for a few seconds, I remained cowered. 

“Desmond, I—” she tried to say from above. 

“Audrey, you just reached for me kinda fast, I—”

“You flinched. You’re… you’re scared of me.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re my wife, I’m not scared of you.”

“No, that’s exactly it. You’re scared of me after what I did to you last week. After I hurt you.”

“I’m not scared of you, I promise.”

“Really? You haven’t looked me in the eyes since. You can’t even look at me now.”

She was right. I was standing on the counter staring into the undersides of her breasts, which were ballooning a T-shirt that was clearly way too small for her. I struggled to prove her wrong, because it was hard to peer upward and meet her no doubt misty eyes. She wasn’t crying yet, but I could hear the hurt in her voice. 

The breasts I couldn’t take my eyes off began moving downward, jiggling ever so slightly behind the ridiculous shirt she was wearing. As she kneeled down, her neck came into view, then her chin, and eventually, I had no choice but to look her in the eye. We were pretty much the same eye level with me standing on the counter, though she was still noticeably taller. 

“We need to talk about this,” she said, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

“What’s there to talk about?”

I regretted saying that as soon as the words left my lips. She would no doubt interpret that as a confrontational act. A defiance of her authority. But instead, she moped, resting her chin on the counter and looking away from me. Her blank, wide stare gave me no indication whether she was about to scream or cry or do something else. My instincts told me to hide from her and protect myself, but I ignored those impulses. If I showed I was scared again, things between Audrey and I would never be the same. 

“Everything, Desmond,” she finally said. “We need to talk about us. I fucked up, and I feel like there’s no going back. I feel like I ruined our marriage.” 

I walked away from her and rested my hand on the towering loaf of bread I was supposed to be toasting. I wasn’t sure how to respond. 

“Can’t we just pretend it never happened?” was the best I could come up with.

“But it did happen.”

“Sweetie, people make mistakes.”

“Abusing your husband isn’t a mistake, Desmond. It’s unforgiveable.”

I turned around and looked at her for the first time in a week. Directly into her brown, sad eyes. She was a broken woman. A woman whose husband’s betrayal caused her to lose control. It was unacceptable what she did, yes, but I couldn’t help but feel awful for her. 

“Audrey, look at me,” I said.

It took her a second, but she eventually aimed her big caramel pupils at me. She blinked away more tears.

“I still love you. I don’t know what to make of all this. It’s fresh. Let’s give it some time and eventually, we’ll forget about it and move on.”

“I can’t. God, Des, I was so mad at you. I know it’s not your fault, but sometimes I get so frustrated with doing literally everything. Between the kids, my job, cooking, cleaning and taking care of the house, I never get a second to myself.”

“Audy, I—”

“And the one time I actually get my butt out of this house and socialize, I find you with Jackie. I don’t know why you felt the need to go out with her. It was a knife to the gut. But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I should’ve talked with you. Instead, I took my anger out on you. Des, I don’t think I’ve ever been that angry before.”

“It’s OK.”

“It’s not.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do then,” I said.

Audrey began full on crying and managed to say through heavy sobs, “I…d-don’t…either!”

I racked my brain for a solution. Something that would get her to stop bawling. But while I contemplated, I wiped her eyes and hugged her wet cheek, giving it sporadic kisses as she cried even more right onto my head. 

We stayed like this for a long time. I let her cry all over me and not once did she touch me. I think she was afraid to now. Once she had no more tears left and I was drenched, I stepped back and told her what I thought. 

“Audrey, if I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry. I should have never gone out to dinner with Jackie. I made a terrible mistake. I betrayed you. So, you had every right to be furious with me. I hoped we could just put all of this behind us by not thinking about it, but clearly, we can’t. I think we should talk to someone. A therapist.”

Still hyperventilating, she gave me a small nod. 

“Alright? How does that sound? Why don’t you go sit on the couch and see if you can find a good couple’s therapist. Maybe someone from that conference you went to last week can recommend someone.”

She nodded again, sputtering and unable to catch her breath.

“Baby…”

I went right back up to her cheek and squeezed as hard as I could. Then I leaned over her ear and said, “We’re gonna get through this, I promise.”

“O-OK. I n-needed to hear that.”

“We are,” I said, retreating from her a bit so I could see her face. “And forget about finding the therapist right this second. Go sit down and catch your breath, OK? I’ll let you know when your breakfast is ready.”

“Really?” she asked, looking up at me.

“Yeah, really. Now, get out of my kitchen. I need some space, lady.”

She laughed at my unexpected jab, then went back to crying. Then laughing. But she finally got up, giving me an awesome view of her breasts and nipples and turned to go into the living room. 

I took stock of everything around me. The eggs she bought were as tall as my knees, I could fit comfortably in between two pieces of the white bread, and the spatula I was about to use was longer than I was tall. Nonetheless, I was determined to make my distraught wife a kick ass breakfast. Even if took all morning.