The married woman made me say goodbye to yesterday.

Beverly sat up, taking a deep breath of fresh air as if she'd just finished an hour of yoga rather than played with me. She wobbled to her feet, towering over me, her labia covered in my semen. She closed her eyes, stretching like a cat, her fingernails touching the ceiling. She jumped off the bed, and I was surprised at her agility. Then, to my surprise again, she put on shorts and a shirt. Dressed, she picked up the handcuff key and went to the bedside. I felt her fumbling for the handcuffs behind me.

"I got what I wanted," she muttered.

"I got my revenge on you. My hands, my mouth, my tongue, my vulva will haunt you for the rest of your life."

I thought,

"No, no,"

I closed my eyes, recalling what had just happened. I'd just been foolishly fucked by a wanton, middle-aged woman, and I'd had my fun. All I had to do was gain my freedom; the past few hours would be precious memories. All I had to do was wait for Beverly to unlock the handcuffs. A little while, just a little longer, and she would let me go.

I opened my eyes. Beverly was staring down at me, like an eagle that had just spotted a large rat.

"What are you doing?"

she interrogated, her voice trembling with a threat.

"What? Nothing...nothing. I'm just waiting for you to let me go."

She knelt beside me, her long nails gripping my chin.

"You're...laughing?"

I felt as if I had never laughed.

"No," I cried.

She jumped out of bed, put her legs on my chest, and straddled me.

“You’re laughing!!!” she hissed.

“You like me fucking you, you shouldn’t like it!”

she shrieked.

“You should be in agony! I want you to be traumatized for the rest of your life! But you’re fucking laughing!”

She placed her hands on my chest, staring at my face.

“Why are you laughing? When Mark raped me, I didn’t laugh for months! When I got my period a week later and found out I wasn’t pregnant with his child, I swore I’d never laugh again! In college, I slept with a bunch of virgins, I fucked all my girlfriends’ boyfriends, and they were all on the verge of collapse, hoping I’d drain their testicles so they’d never get an erection again. They never fucked when I was with them, so I’m asking you again, why the fuck are you laughing!?”

I couldn’t think of an answer. My mind was blank, my lips trembled, I was scared, scared to think about it directly, or to think about it quickly.

Then Beverly found the answer. Perhaps it was something in my eyes, but she took a step back as if she had seen something terrifying.

"Oh, God! You...you're not a virgin, are you?"

I still couldn't speak, but she knew without me saying a word.

"Tell me what happened."

I didn't answer.

She jumped next to my butt and reached into my inner thigh.

"Tell me, or I'll do to your back what I did to you, like a paper cutter."

I snapped back to reality .

"Yes, I'm not a virgin."

"You were a virgin when I first met you. You can't fool me. I can feel it in your dick when you fuck me."

"Yes."

Her inch-long nails dug into the soft muscle of my inner thigh.

"So what happened? How did you lose your virginity from then until now? Tell me, tell me the truth, or I'll make your dick do a twitching dance."

Her other hand threateningly reached around my inner thigh, flicking my index finger, making my dick swing back and forth.

"That was yesterday!" I said,

my voice loud,

hoping my hoarse voice would calm her down.

“Yesterday?” she said,

as if she didn’t believe me, her nails scratching at me.

“With whom? Who took your virginity before me?”

I hesitated, just for a moment, and she pinched my limp penis between her thumb and forefinger.

“I know you like my nails scratching you, but if you hadn’t told me, you wouldn’t have liked the way I scratched you this time.”

“It was Mrs. Reed!” I cried.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Whose… wife?”

“Mrs. Reed! Jackie! Dan’s wife!”

I had never seen Beverly so shocked before, perhaps no one had ever, not since Mark had put Beverly’s smooth, young thighs on his shoulders and inserted his tongue into her sweet virgin vagina. In any case, she was shocked now.

“You slept with Dan’s wife?”

“Yes.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

She looked down at the bed.

“No, in a hotel room in town.”

“Wait…wait…”

She needed time to process what she was saying.

“Tell me everything.”

She sat on my pelvis, her blood-red fingernails tracing patterns on my nipples.

“Everything.”

I recounted, step by step, without reservation, telling her the whole story of Jackie and me, from the first time I saw her and felt lust for her, to the first time I masturbated in her bathroom, to the afternoon I made love to her in the hotel. When I told her about Mr. Johnson chasing me at midnight, Beverly laughed; when I told her about Dan using me as bait to distract Beverly while he broke up with his daughter Susie, her eyes bloodshot. I told her everything, and when I finished, I closed my eyes, praying that Beverly wouldn’t slice me up like a sausage with her fingernails.

I heard her exhale a long, hazy breath. She climbed off me as if dismounting from a horse. I opened my eyes, and she was smiling at me.

"You actually seduced Dan's wife behind his back. I must say, I'm quite impressed. I underestimated you."

She put on her shoes and then burst into laughter.

"You're truly captivating. I wonder what you'll be like in a few years. Will you bear the marks of time?"

"I'll be living in a convent."

She laughed again, a cheerful, genuine laugh that truly eased my mind.

"I hope not. Perhaps I'll come to see you again someday,"

she said, putting away the handcuff key. I sighed; freedom was so close.

But she didn't unlock the handcuffs. She put the key in her purse and walked towards the door.

“Wait, wait!”

I screamed.

“Let me go!”

She turned around, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, no, no, no, you tricked me again, so I have to get my revenge. I’m leaving you here.”

She walked back to me, gently, softly, kissing my lips.

“Goodbye, lover.”

“No! Please! Nobody knows I’m here! Beverly, you can’t just leave me here like this!”

She stopped at the door, reaching into her purse to pull out her phone.

“What’s your home phone number?”

“What?”

“I’ll leave a message for your mom and dad. I’ll tell them where to find you. Give me your number.”

“No, please,”

I pleaded.

She slammed the phone down.

“Okay, I believe the police will eventually find you, maybe in a day.”

I closed my eyes, gave her the number, and she dialed and waited…waited…then,

“Hi, this is Beverly, a friend of Andy’s. Just a few hours ago, we had a very, very nice time in the neighbor’s bedroom, and then a little accident happened. But if you know Andy as well as I do, you won’t be surprised. He’s having a little accident right now, so don’t panic if he’s not there when you get home. But you might need to come next door to see if he needs any help getting home. Thanks.”

She hung up.

“Who usually gets home first, your mother or your father?”

“Mom,”

I murmured.

She smiled, took out lipstick from her purse, carefully applied it to her lips, then bent down and gave me a long kiss on the stomach above my thigh, leaving an unforgettable bright red lipstick mark.

“I think I’ll have to wait and see how you explain all this,” she said,

and walked out of the room.

“Goodbye, Beverly,” I said.

She paused as she passed through the door.

"Goodbye, baby...for now."

I heard her footsteps fade into the distance. She went downstairs, out the door, and she was gone. I was alone. All I could do was lie there, waiting for a torrent of abuse.

It was nine in the morning. Mom wouldn't be home until five, and Dad probably wouldn't be until six. I was handcuffed to the bed. I needed to pee. What a terrible afternoon.

I fell asleep. Exhaustion overcame the agonizing anxiety in my heart and the intense pressure in my bladder. When Mom found me, if she did, the explanation would probably be... Oh, no way. It would be a terrible scene. But it was too late. I was completely exhausted. I had no choice but to rest and sleep.

The phone on the Reed's bedside table rang. It scared me half to death. It rang again. I guessed they hadn't hung up yet. The phone rang again. I looked at the stopped clock. It was only 11:45. Jesus, who could it be? The answering machine at the Reed house beeped. I heard Jackie's breathy voice asking the caller to leave a message, and then…

“Andy, if you're there, pick up the phone,”

I recognized the voice.

“Dad!” I cried helplessly.

He couldn't hear me. He paused, and I heard him mutter,

“Jesus Christ… Andy!”

He paused again.

“I'll go home, hoping that message on the answering machine is just nonsense…”

He slammed the phone down. I almost cried, a mixture of hope and despair.

Forty-five minutes later, I heard the door creak open.

“Andy!”

a voice shouted.

“I’m here!”

I croaked, my throat painfully dry. I swallowed hard.

“I’m in the bedroom! Dad! The bedroom!”

I heard my father’s familiar footsteps coming upstairs. When he appeared in the doorway and saw me naked and handcuffed, the expression on his face was one I never wanted to see again. He looked worried, horrified, and terrified.

“Jesus,”

he said softly,

“Are you alright?”

“Damn it, yes!” I said,

trying to bring him back to reality.

“The key is on the dressing table. Unlock these damn handcuffs.”

He moved like a robot, numbly, grabbed the key, and reached into the lock. I was free,

finally!

I rolled over and stood up, turning my shoulders.

“I’ll be right back,” I said,

running towards the bathroom.

My father, as a man, understood my needs. After I finished the most satisfying pee of my life and flushed the toilet, he looked at me with a look I’d seen many times in my life, a look that said:

“I’m going to teach you a lesson.”

“This damn… how did this happen?”

This morning, for the second time, I had to think about what to say. I finally felt that nothing could compare to telling the truth, so I began to tell him. As I dressed, I told my father everything, everything. When I finished, perhaps because of the light, my father’s hair seemed a little gray.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

We left the Reeds’ house, stopped briefly in the basement to put on the sandals I’d left there, and went back inside. He went to the refrigerator and got two bottles of beer.

“Here,” he said, unscrewing the green bottle

and opening another. He drank it down in a few gulps, then grabbed the other bottle still in my numb hand and downed it in one go. He told me to sit down, and I sat down.

“That’s the end of it,” he said,

not needing to explain what “that” meant.

“I know everything.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“I hope so.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“Neither was I, that’s not what I meant.”

He seemed about to say something, considered it carefully, and then brought the beer bottle to his lips, frowning when he realized it was empty.

“Are you hungry?”

The question threw me off balance.

“Starving.”

“Let’s go get something to eat.”

We went to a local bar, a small restaurant with lots of hamburgers, chicken wings, and ice-cold beer. My dad made sure the waiter was sure I was old enough to drink, and we spent the day together, father and son, eating and drinking to our hearts' content

. Here's what happened: my dad had planned to leave work early to play a round of golf. He called to tell me he'd be home late, then checked his answering machine to see if my mom had left him any messages. And then he heard… what he heard.

He started telling me about his outrageous college days, the stupid things he'd done. The more he drank, the more bizarre stories poured out. I only felt relieved when the waitress brought the bill. I was terrified my dad would tell me how I got pregnant, and I didn't want to add another exclamation mark to an already incredibly strange day.

I drove home. My dad collapsed in the guest seat. When we got home, he collapsed on the sofa, trying to kill the six cans of alcohol he'd drunk at noon with sleep. I was too tired to sleep. I went to my bedroom to finish one last task. I could still feel Beverly's body pressing against me. I could almost taste her vulva with my mouth. I was lost in self-indulgence. Now, I could relive that blissful moment.

That evening, my mom came home. I told her the story my dad and I had concocted—that he came home early because he wasn't feeling well about the weather. She believed me and spent the whole night caring for him like a child, feeding him soup and cookies, which he ate with relish.

I went out to spend my last night with my friends. They didn't ask why I walked so ridiculously, and I didn't tell them. I had no urge to tell them this unbelievable story, how I'd spent the last two mornings. I preferred to keep this secret to myself, to my dad, Jackie, Dan, and Beverly…

enough people already knew.

It's all over now. It's time to say goodbye to all this wonderful madness and go to college.

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The married woman made me say goodbye to yesterday.

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