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As Easy as Pie

A story by Ryeloza

Part Three: Double Cross

Chapter Two: A Woman's Mind

Tom followed Parker into his bedroom and wearily collapsed on his bed, more exhausted than any of his kids were. Bedtime in their house was like a marathon—one where you needed to be able to tag out and bring in an alternate to get you through (if such a thing existed). But Lynette had practically rushed out of the house when he'd gotten home and he'd been left on his own tonight. He wanted to complain, but given how often Lynette did this on her own, he really didn't have a leg to stand on.

"Okay. One story, guys," he ordered. Porter and Preston flopped down on the end of Parker's bed and Tom frowned. "Why don't you get into your beds?"

"We wanna see the pictures too."

"Yeah, Daddy. You hafta turn the book around so we can see every page."

Oh goody, thought Tom. He glanced at Parker, who was spending more time than Tom liked at the little bookcase across the room. Either he was up to something, or he was being unusually picky. "Hey, buddy, I thought the rule was to pick out a book before bedtime?"

From the speed that Parker turned around and rushed toward him, Tom had the feeling that Lynette used that question more as a threat most nights of the week. Parker handed him a big pile of books. Tom opened his mouth to point out that he'd said he'd read them one story when he suddenly noticed that topping the stack was a book with two scantily clad people on the cover. "Parker," he said slowly, "what is this?"

"Mommy's book," said Parker, climbing into his bed. "It's boring. There's no pictures."

"Well it's a book for grown-ups," said Tom, setting the rest of the books on his lap and halfheartedly leafing through it. He paused on the page Lynette had bookmarked, just glancing at it, but then he stopped short as his eyes caught the words, "wine dribbled down his naked chest." Without any regard for his sons, Tom began to read the page, aghast at how familiar the fiction seemed to his real life. Lynette had stolen her little seduction scene right from the pages of this book. For a second, Tom was actually a little put-out that she hadn't come up with it on her own, but then it slowly dawned on him that he held her playbook in his hands. She wanted to play dirty and he had all of her moves right in front of him.

"Dad-dy! We want a story!"

"Right," he said, reluctantly shutting the book. "Let's get this show on the road."

He had more important things to read tonight.

Emergency pile of gifts: Carlos kept them in a shoebox under the sink with the cleaning supplies—the last place Gaby would look. He'd begun collecting them about two months ago after he and Gaby had a particularly bad fight right before Thanksgiving. Going out to buy an "I'm sorry"gift on Black Friday wasn't something he ever wanted to relive again.

But tonight wasn't a night for apologies. It wasn't a night for bribes. It wasn't a night for random romantic surprises—at least not directly. It was a night for messing with his wife's pretty little head. And that, Carlos thought, called for the ruby necklace.

Gift in hand and a gloating smile on his face, Carlos hurried upstairs with his present, unsurprised to find Gaby already lying on the bed in some scant underwear. The woman owned more lingerie than there were nights of the week. "Hey honey," she said, spreading her legs slowly and then re-crossing them; somehow she made this exaggeration look natural. "Did you have a fun day with the guys?"

"I don't want to talk about them," said Carlos in a low voice. "I want to talk about us."

Gaby made a seductive little sound of agreement that made Carlos want to tear off his pants, but he forced himself to hold it together. It really wasn't fair how many things Gabrielle had in her arsenal to combat him. With a steadying breath, Carlos pulled the present out from behind his back, presenting it triumphantly. To his utter delight, Gaby looked thrown off; she sat up with a furtive expression crossing her features, clearly no longer at ease. "What is that?"

"A thank you," said Carlos, trying not to laugh. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "For being the most wonderful—" he kissed the back of her hand, "—understanding—" her shoulder, "—amazing wife in the world," he finished, ending with a kiss on the lips. He handed her the present.

Gaby chuckled nervously. "Okay, I know that I'm amazing, but that's an every day occurrence. So what, specifically, prompted this?"

"Oh you've just been so patient lately. All the late nights at the office. Letting me hang out with the guys." Carlos stood and kissed the top of her head. "Always taking the time to look beyond fantastic, even just to sleep."

Carlos grinned down at her as he watched the pieces click into place. A light of recognition dawned in her eyes and she opened her mouth, clearly ready to chew him out for screwing with her, but then she hesitated. It was exactly what Carlos wanted. She couldn't yell at him without admitting that she'd been messing with him. He'd called her bluff.

"Gee. Thanks," Gaby finally said through gritted teeth. She turned and smiled up at him in a predatory way that made Carlos feel a little less successful. "I won't forget this, Carlos."

Carlos smiled nervously, but didn't back down. After all, how could she possibly tease him more than she already had?

Karl sat in bed admiring his penmanship. He really had excellent handwriting: masculine; authoritative; slanted just so. Combined with the right words, it sent exactly the message he wanted. He grinned and set the note on Susan's pillow. This was a win-win situation, guaranteed. He was getting back on Susan's good side and remaining a monk at the same time.

The bathroom door opened and Karl quickly snatched something off of the nightstand to perfect the image of innocence. Then he paused when he saw what he'd grabbed: Susan's book of jumbles. He couldn't begin to think why she even owned this; Susan wasn't exactly the puzzle type. Without time to switch it out for something more respectable, Karl simply picked up the pen he'd been writing with and opened to a random page.

"You're still up," said Susan bitterly as she walked into the room. "I'd have thought you'd be pretending to sleep by now. Or sneaking off to the office. Or coming up with some other excuse not to—"

Holy crap, thought Karl frantically, she's going to blow the whole thing. "Whoa! Whoa!" he shouted loudly, scrambling for some way to successfully abort Susan's words. He couldn't believe she'd been planning to just confront him about the bet like that. Where had her spirit for vengeance gone? "Susie, hang on a second. There's…" Karl glanced at her pillow. "There's something I need you to see."

Susan's eyes followed his and when she spotted the stationary, she raised a curious eyebrow. Karl breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he'd found a way to sidetrack the confrontation. Slowly, Susan walked to the bed and picked up the note. "Karl?" she said. "What is this?"

"It's me," said Karl sappily, really going for over the top. Susan ate that crap up. "Telling you how I feel." In a sudden burst of inspiration, he took the paper from her. "Here. Allow me.

Susan, Susan, lips so fine

Susan, Susan, for you I pine

Let's laugh and love and drink some wine

Susan, Susan, won't you be mine?"

Karl put his hand over his heart at the end and slowly raised his eyes to meet Susan's. She looked torn between skepticism and genuine delight. "You wrote me a poem?"

"I wanted to show you that this old dog still has some romantic tricks up his sleeve," said Karl. "This marriage isn't just sex for me, Susan."

Susan bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears, and she sat down next to him in the bed. "Oh, Karl!" She threw her arms around him and started to plant kisses all over his face and neck.

"It's just hard for me to say how I feel," said Karl, finding it easier and easier to play into Susan's hand. "But I needed you to know."

"And you wrote me a poem!" She pulled back and smiled hugely. "That's the most romantic thing you've ever done."

"Yeah. Well…" Karl leaned back against his pillow, surprised when Susan curled up against him and laid her head on his chest.

"Oh! The jumble book!"

"What?"

Susan bounced like an excitable puppy and Karl slowly remembered that he was still holding her stupid book in his hand. "Let's do one together!"

"Great," said Karl with false enthusiasm. "That's exactly what I wanted."

It was another painfully normal night.

Mary Alice on her side of the bed. Paul on his. Television on. Neither of them touching each other or saying a word. It was torture. And the whole time, Paul felt the words on the tip of his tongue—"You know about the bet. You knew and you didn't even try to do anything. Why? Why?"—words that just wouldn't come out.

He knew what he was supposed to do. What Karl and Carlos and probably even Tom were doing in their own homes right now: teasing their wives. But teasing seemed out of the question when Mary Alice hadn't even begun to make that effort herself. Did she even care that there had been a bet or was she just relieved that he wouldn't try anything?

"The news is miserable," Mary Alice observed calmly. And for some reason, that was the last straw. Paul wasn't going to sit there and listen to her talk about the news and pretend that everything was okay. It was absurd; ludicrous.

Completely depressing.

"I can't do this anymore," he said out of the blue. Mary Alice turned to look at him curiously, but Paul just clicked off the television and looked down at the bedspread. Somehow he couldn't meet her gaze. If this went badly, he wouldn't be able to stand seeing the rejection in her eyes. "No more games. No more tricks. Mary Alice, we need to talk about this."

"I know," she said softly and Paul looked up, surprised. He honestly hadn't thought she'd admit that she knew what had been going on. Still, saying the actual words…Paul took a deep breath.

"Why haven't you wanted to have sex lately? What's going on?"

Mary Alice's eyes widened and she turned her body so she faced him directly. "Me?" she said. "You're the one who made the bet! The one who's been all hands to himself! I've been throwing you signals left and right and you just ignore me!"

Paul wasn't sure which was more shocking—that Mary Alice assumed he was the one not interested in sex or that she actually thought she'd been encouraging him. "Signals?" he scoffed. "Name one."

"Last week I wore that sexy little nightgown to bed and you just rolled over and went to sleep! Or how about all those times I told you I was cold and you just got me an extra blanket?"

"What—No—You—I—" Paul struggled to form a coherent sentence. He felt as though his whole world had been blown wide open and he was suddenly in another reality. "Those aren't signals!" he finally shouted.

"I couldn't have been more clear."

"You ever think about just rolling over and saying, 'Hey Paul, wanna do it?'"

Mary Alice scowled. "You ever think about rolling over and saying that to me?"

Paul gaped at his wife. He'd never heard Mary Alice say anything like that in the nearly twenty years that he'd known her. She liked foreplay and romance and outward signs of affection; the art of seduction. She had never been the type to just jump right into sex.

"Paul?" she said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"If you wanted to have sex and I wanted to have sex, then why haven't we been having sex?"

"I was wondering that myself."

They sat in silence for a moment, Paul pondering how he could have been so utterly clueless, and then Mary Alice reached out and took his hand. "Maybe we need to work on our communication skills." She sighed. "Sometimes I just don't know how to talk to you."

"That's not good," said Paul wearily. "You should be able to talk to me about anything. I'm your husband."

"And I'm your wife."

Paul smiled, reaching out to cup her cheek and then pull her down for a soft kiss. "Mary Alice," he said softly, "I really want to have sex with you."

She grinned and kissed him again, parting his lips with her tongue this time. Paul clung to her desperately, pressing her down into the bed and running his hand down her body. Her responding moan was nearly enough to make him completely lose control.

"Is that a yes?" he mumbled into her mouth.

Mary Alice tugged off his shirt. "Paul," she said firmly. "Just shut up and fuck me."

"Now that's a signal."