35 comments/ 40455 views/ 17 favorites Plain Gold Ring Pt. 01 By: GirlintheMoon JUNE "I'll have another glass of wine," she sighs to the bartender. He pours the glass and then travels down to the rowdy guys watching the game. Lisa is late. This is nothing new. What's particularly annoying tonight is that June wanted to go home and take a long, hot bath and soak until she was one big prune. Her graduate classes aren't going as she thought they would. It isn't that they are hard; it is just that there is so much work to do, and so many unnecessary tasks she has to complete. Just that day they had to practice arranging students in groups to work together—how the fuck was she supposed to do that when teaching math, of all things? She senses a man sit down next to her. She hopes he won't be a problem. It's happened more than a few times—usually while June waits for Lisa—that a guy sees a girl alone and hones in on his target. That's the last thing she needs tonight. "What are you doing in a place like this?" the man asks, and June looks up with a grin. "Mr. Carver!" He laughs and his blue eyes twinkle beneath the bar lighting. "How many times have I told you to call me John?" June can feel her cheeks reddening. "John." "And how are you doing?" The situation is so dreamlike that June goes along with it. "I've been better. School sucks." "I told you not to be a math teacher." "You inspired me," she says back, like she always does, and he laughs, like he always does. It's a joke between the two of them. Well, really for him. For her, it's the truth. He'd tutored her off and on when she first came to live with her aunt Maggie five years before. He'd invite her over to his house and would painstakingly go through the different processes so she could come to the correct solution. Sometimes June got distracted. His dirty blonde hair would fall a little over his forehead, and his sea-colored eyes would stare at her so intently that her palms sweat. And his voice! All rumbly and low, and when he spoke softly it made her body rumble to her toes. His strong forearms—shirt sleeves rolled up—flipped the pages, or reached over to point something out to her on her own page. She'd trace the veins that ran up under the skin, catalogued a long scar that she bizarrely wanted to lick and desired to have those arms wrapped around her. Then June grew older. She accepted that Mr. Carver was a fantasy. She stored him away in that unrequited cabinet we all have in our brains and moved on. That doesn't mean she doesn't still sneak peeks at him when he's mowing the lawn—shirtless—or when he plays with the kids on the block. "I can't imagine how," Mr. Carver laughs, drawing her back to the moment. "I'm a shitty teacher." The bar is thinning out. She moves a bit closer to him. "No, you aren't. I would've been screwed in trig if it hadn't been for you." Mr. Carver's jade colored eyes fix on hers for a beat too long. Perhaps she's sounded too earnest. Or maybe it's because she used the word "screwed". Now that's all she can think about and she's pretty sure even her chest is flushed. Oh, God. He smiles, orders another beer. "Sometimes I can't believe how much you've grown up. You were this scrawny little brat when you moved in with your aunt." "I was not." She kinda was. She was miserable that she'd been taken away from her hometown where she had friends, even though her mother was the worst and constantly dated abusive druggies. Maggie was only 28 and June worried she'd seriously cramp Maggie's style. She thought Maggie was going to hate her, was going to be rotten to her. That she was trading one hell for another, that she'd be just like her mom and now she didn't even have her friends to comfort her. Then she gradually learned Maggie was nothing like her sister, and was a better mother than anyone could've been. That's when June relaxed and came into her own. "I was not a brat," June says again, but this time she can't keep the giggle from her voice. Mr. Carver smiles and takes a swig of his beer. He watches a game on the small TV fixed on the wall above them, but she feels him move a bit closer to her. There's something crackling between them. She can feel the tingle on her arm closest to him, and the tickle on the back of her neck. Maybe it's just the wine, she thinks, but she knows it isn't. "So, what brings you here tonight?" Mr. Carver—John—grins. "Now we've both used lines on each other." June blushes and he seems to enjoy making her all flushed and flustered. "Just had to get out. You know how it is." No, June doesn't, but she can imagine. The Carvers fight sometimes. She is right across the street and she can hear them at night, screaming at one another. Then she watches them in the morning, offering each other a perfunctory kiss before both drive off to work. Seems dreary to her. "Marriages aren't fairytales," Maggie said once when June commented on it. "But they seem so..." but she cut herself off because she knew Maggie's always been aware of June's flaming crush. Tonight, with the wine in her system and Mr. Carver's smile turned her way, June feels wild. And a little bad. Her phone vibrates. It's Lisa. Says she can't come after all. June would be annoyed if she didn't have Mr. Carver next to her. "Is that a boyfriend?" he asks teasingly. She puts her phone away and smirks. "Maybe." "Well, hopefully he's good to you." He keeps his eyes on the TV but she feels as if he's very aware of her. She tells herself she's crazy, finishes her glass of wine. "So, what's he like?" "Who?" she asks, her brain feeling a little foggy. "The boyfriend." "Oh. I don't have a boyfriend. I was kidding." Mr. Carver's eyebrows go up and he tosses her a disbelieving look. "Why not?" June laughs. "Why is it that people always act horrified when a girl says she doesn't have a boyfriend?" "I didn't—" "Relax," she snickers, "you're off the hook." She gets nose to nose with him. "This time." They're so close she can feel his hot breath spreading across her face and the heat of his right thigh through her dress. She can smell his familiar cologne and her mouth waters. She can't help herself; her eyes drop down to his lips. Then the light from the TV flickers on his wedding ring. That plain gold ring. She jumps back and nearly knocks over her empty wine glass. Mr. Carver is breathing heavily. "Jesus, are you okay?" "I think I need to get home." "I can drive you. You've had too much to drink to drive." He's right, damnit. He throws some bills on the bar and then heads out into the humid night. She has no choice but to follow. _____________________________________ "Do you seriously have Hootie and the Blowfish on right now?" "It's the radio, June, I can't help it." She's glad they're back to their usual banter. That whatever...that...was is gone. "Clearly it's because of the station you listen to." "Whatever," he says, but he's grinning as he makes a turn. She has a horrible suspicion that the chemistry they shared tonight is only dormant. It's waiting until the next time June and Mr. Carver aren't on guard, and then it'll slip right back in and shock them both. It's about then that June realizes she's a little drunk, and that she's finally in front of her house. "Thanks, Mr. Carver." She pushes the door open. "John," he automatically corrects. She glances at him over her shoulder and gives him a small smile. "John." As she undresses that night, the wine makes her feel all sultry and decadent. She could call up her quasi-boyfriend Tom. He's snuck in here before and they've had sex quietly. Maggie never knew the difference (June suspects she probably knows, but she's just that cool). Tom comes with too many complications. He's so heavy, so serious. He's mentioned kids before and June panics. She's only 23. Kids seem like such a foreign entity to her now. Like aliens. She'd be less surprised to see an alien in her room than a kid coming out of her vagina. So she plays a little with herself. She's not even sure if she means to come. Sometimes coming isn't the point. It's just enough to feel luxurious. Attractive. Sexy. Her bedroom window just happens to look towards the Carvers' house. She watches, fascinated, as each light turns off. The couple is going to bed. June hates Mrs. Carver a little. It's not even because of the jealousy thing. Or, at least not entirely because of it. Mrs. Carver may smile and attempt to play the Mrs. Cleaver act, but June knows she's playing pretend. She can see it in her eyes, beyond her perfect smile. June's noticed the condescending and impatient way she's talked to the older ladies on the block. She's watched Melissa when she thinks no one's looking. At block parties, she always sidles up to the men and laughs too loud. Touches them too much. There's just something about her June can't stand, or trust. She's beautiful, too, of course. Aren't they always? Black, fluffy hair falls down her back in perfect waves. She wears a dress every day—typically a shade of red or pink—and the heels the woman manages to walk in boggle June's mind. But walk in them she does, and how she walks could hypnotize even the most disinterested person. Her hips sway, her muscular legs gracefully pulse with each step and the heels she wears only emphasize her ass as it dances through the air. It's an art form. There must be something good about her, because Mr. Carver loves her. It stabs June in the heart every time she sees him looking at her, worshipping her. That didn't stop him tonight, however, as that something passed between them. John, June thinks, slipping beneath the covers. John "I can't make fucking casseroles," Melissa screams, throwing the burned plate across the room. It slams against the wall and shatters. "Fucking deal with it!" "I never asked you to," John says quietly. He's still at the table, fork and knife in hand. This outburst isn't the first, but it's the most violent. Lately she's growing more and more impatient with him and he can't figure why. She scoffs. "Right. You just happened to mention how your mother makes the most delicious casseroles. I can take a hint. I'm not stupid!" "Melissa, we were just having a conversation!" "You put so much pressure on me!" She paces and runs her hands through her black hair over and over again. Marriage has made her into a bit of a wild thing. John knows she sometimes views it as a cage, and resents him as her abductor, as if he were peering in at her. She blames him for the pressure he supposedly puts on her. And maybe he does pressure on her. He wants children. Six years they've been married. They're both 33. He's ready. They're pretty well off financially—though Melissa picking up the extra shift at the vet hospital would help—and it would thrill both sets of parents. Yet Melissa is reluctant. Every time he brings up having kids, she gets this peculiar look on her face and he gets this horrible sensation that his marriage is turning more into a nightmare than a fairytale. _______________________________ The Bud in his hand has grown warm but he's too lazy to go fetch a colder one. He chugs the rest of it and puts it on the coffee table, purposefully missing the coaster so that it'll leave a ring on the table. He loves how that annoys the shit out of Melissa. As if it were staged, Melissa comes out into the living room at that exact moment. Her eyes immediately narrow when she spots the empty beer can tarnishing the coffee table she bought with his money. For once, she doesn't say anything. She's dressed nicely—a floral dress, lots of gold jewelry dripping from her neck, ears and wrists. "I wish you weren't going out tonight," he sighs. Melissa sits on the couch beside him and slips on some fuck-me pumps. "We're going to have a few drinks at Carrie's. Three hours, tops." "And that's how you dress to go over to a friend's house?" He doesn't want to sound like one of those men, but he can't help it. She really is dressed inappropriately, and coupled with her behavior the question just flew out. Her eyes narrow and he's immediately sorry he's asked. "Damn, John, could you for once give me a fucking break?" "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that visiting Carrie's house with all her goddamn cats was the equivalent to a night out on the town." She laughs under her breath and touches the side of his head. He leans into the touch but she's already standing and smoothing down her dress. He hates that she's so fucking beautiful, and so fucking mean sometimes. Her hair has a few sparkly barrettes placed just so, so that they resemble a crown. And her eyes look blacker than usual due to all her eye makeup. "You goin' to meet your boyfriend?" He grins and clutches her thigh. She snatches her hand away, cheeks red and eyes sparking meanly at him. "Very funny." "It was a joke." "Imagine if I said it to you." "Mel, I—" "You'd have a shit fit. You would be impossible." She heaves a breath. "Are you going to call June over and fuck her, John?" John's eyes pop open. "Jesus, Melissa." He has no idea why she brings June up. Does she know about the night at the bar? Nothing happened. Not really. "I see how you look at her. And God knows she worships you." He ignores the strange flop his heart does and shakes his head. "All I want is you." Melissa still looks a little angry, but there is a smile flirting with her lips. He takes her hand and kisses it. "I'm sorry." The smile on her face grows. She touches him again and it's madness that he can feel so hot for her so quickly. "I'm sorry, too. You're right, I haven't been fair." She puts her purse over her shoulder. "We'll talk more about it when I get home." But she doesn't come home. She texts him a few hours later, when he's almost crazy with worry, that she had too much to drink and is crashing on Carrie's sofa. The bed is empty and cold. He longs for a warm body to lie next to. His cock wants a pussy to slide into. He's aching and alone and it's so ridiculous that he readjusts his pillow and forces himself to go to sleep. ________________________ The next afternoon John grabs a beer and sits on the stoop, like he does most other days. He needs the fresh air. He also likes to watch the neighbors. Particularly June Silva. He isn't proud of it. Not remotely. He used to tutor her when she was a teen. He never once thought of her in a romantic way until the summer after she graduated. She was playing around with some friends in the front yard with a hose. The girls were squealing and cursing and spraying each other. Just being girls. God, he thought, like some cheesy movie—all young girls playing around in water on a sticky July day. It amused him at first. Then turned him on in a flash when June had to run over and get Betty, her dog. Betty had gotten loose and had come across to his yard, shaking water from her fur. June jogged over in a simple light pink top and white shorts. He'd almost have preferred if she had a bathing suit on. "Sorry, Mr. Carver." She gave him a grin, a grin she'd given him many times. But he was struck by it for some reason, and struck even further by the image of her hardened nipples poking through the flimsy, wet pink tank top. He shouldn't have looked at them, or continued to stare at them, but they were perfect and set fire to something inside him. She wrestled with her dog and he was hypnotized by the sight of her breasts swinging back and forth. They were smaller than his wife's, but not tiny by any means. A perfect set, really. That's when he took in the rest of her. Warm honey-colored hair that fell just below her shoulders, and secretive hazel eyes that looked at him as if she were thinking something funny about him. God, she was perfection at eighteen, and he suspected she'd be pretty much perfect the rest of her life. He hopped up too late to help. She'd already grabbed Betty's collar and was back in the street. "Sorry," she said again. "No problem!" he called out, far too loudly. She got back to her lawn, laughing and whispering with her friends. The years passed. She went to a nearby college. He saw different boyfriends pick her up. He worried she'd get lost somehow, get pregnant or settle down and get married. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she seemed like the type who wanted to travel and do everything all at once. During their tutoring sessions, they sometimes talked about other things, not just about math, and he remembered thinking she was a bright kid. A special kid. She'll go far, he thought. Now he remembers that summer day from years ago, those perfect breasts in that pink top. And he remembers thinking crazy things in that bar, like dragging her into the bathroom with him and kissing her all over. He felt and feels guilty; Melissa would be heartbroken if she ever got wind of his fantasies. But that's all they are: fantasies. Today he spots June coming up the hill at the end of the road. She's wearing a flowing yellow dress and her hair is down, in spite of the cloying heat. She walks Betty most days since Maggie is pregnant. She married a few years after June moved in. June talks to the dog as if she were human, and it always makes him smile when he hears them. "Betty, you know you're not supposed to pee on Carl's beautiful grass. If he catches you again, he's going to call Aunt Maggie and she's not going to buy you treats." She scratches the dog's ears. "You know you love those treats, right? Will you be good for me next time?" She glances up and spots John watching her. Her steps stop uncertainly. "Hi, June. Hi, Betty." The sun is just beginning to set and the rays touch June's hair, making it golden and bright. She comes over to him, a bashful smile on her face. She knows he's caught her talking to Betty. Or maybe she's bashful because of the other night. "Hi, Mr. Carver." "God!" he groans playfully. "Call me John! How many times do I have to tell you?!" "John," she murmurs, her mouth opening slowly to let the vowel slip out. Her smile is a little coy, which catches him by surprise. A strange something lurches in his chest. She looks down, but he can tell she's smiling. "So, how's your summer going?" Safe move. Boring chitchat. "It's—" he's about to say 'good' but that's such a pithy lie. "It feels long. It's only July 2nd." She's looking at him like he's crazy. "I mean, I appreciate having time the time off. I get all the reading in that I want to do but—" "I know what you mean," she says, helping him out. "If it makes you feel any better, my mother used to say that by the time the 4th of July came, the summer was over." June looks away from him, staring at nothing down the street. She puts a hand over her eyes to guard them from the sun. She never mentions her mother much. "She was kinda right. I always feel the summer rushes by after that. You'll notice they will start stocking the school supplies in stores. Before you know it you'll be back to teaching math in a stuffy classroom, pining for summer." Then she looks back at him and he can't help but smile at her. "You're a bit of a pessimist, did you know that?" Her smile is softer, and he thinks she might be a little embarrassed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to blab so much." "No. No, you didn't—" But his words are cut off when Melissa pulls her shiny red car up the driveway. She gets out, wearing a different dress than the one she wore yesterday. Her keen eyes dance between the flustered husband and the mortified girl. Plain Gold Ring Pt. 01 "June. Nice to see you." The words are dry with little inflection, and little affection. June perks up and stands a little straighter. John almost wants to smile at her. "Nice to see you, too, Mrs. Carver. We were just talking about how hot it's been this week." Melissa turns away without acknowledging June's words and heads for the house, throwing John a significant look. "Um," he begins, to apologize or to make more nonsensical chatter he isn't sure, but June cuts him off. "Have a good night, Mr. Carver!" she shouts with too much pep, running across the street with the big dog at her heels. Melissa is waiting for him when he gets in, pouring herself a large glass of wine. He opens his mouth to shout at her, to demand to know where she's been, but she speaks and what she says stops him cold. "So, are you fucking that girl now?" He squints his eyes and cocks his head as if she's spoken in a foreign language. "Are you kidding me?" "Trying to get back at me? Fuck the youngest legal bitch on the block?" He laughs as if he can't believe he's standing here partaking in this absurd conversation. "Fuck you, Melissa. Fuck. You. Don't even dare try to make this about me. You disappeared for an entire fucking day, doing God knows what." He reaches for a lamp and flings it towards the wall. The shards explode everywhere, but Melissa only calmly sips her wine. She's never been intimidated by John because they both know he'd never hurt her. She typically watches his tantrums with mild curiosity, like a detached mother. He can't remember ever being this angry. "Things need to change, Melissa." He calms himself down, and when he speaks his timbre is back to low and soulful. "Why are you so sulky all the time? We need therapy or we need to just sit down and figure out what's going on here because... I mean, this isn't working, is it? I love you, but Jesus, every day can't be so hard!" Her eyes run over his body, searching for something. He knows what she's doing: assessing him. Seeing if he's for real this time, like a child who's heard no 10 times but found out it only really means no 4 times. She puts down her wine glass and creeps over to him. "I was visiting Carrie, remember? You can call her if you don't believe me. We drank too much and I crashed on her couch." Her voice is soft, as if she's trying to lull him to sleep. She's done this before, and he hates how effective it is. "I don't want to fight you, John." She kneels down in front of him. Her manicured nails—french—run up his thighs. "I'm sorry I didn't call." "Stop touching me." "Why?" she asks, her head tilted to the side. He hates the goddamn cocky grin curving her pink lips. "We're having a conversation." "Right," she whispers, her fingers unbuttoning his fly. He puts his hand on her head. His fingers sink into that lovely hair. "Melissa, we can't. It doesn't solve anything and I don't want to." She looks down at his dick, pressing hard against the fabric of his clothes. "You don't want to?" He can't speak anymore. She's taken the initiative and has slipped her hand into his pants, rubbing her palm against the head of his dick. He hisses and throws his head back. She yanks his pants and boxers down—with his help, as he's given up, of course—and swallows him down with one eager motion. It's a wonderful blowjob. A familiar blowjob. He knows what she's going to do before she does it. It's not that she's boring, but she doesn't try to throw him any curveballs anymore. She doesn't have to impress him, and she knows that. She knows the tried and true method works. John knows deep inside that she doesn't want to spice things up and doesn't feel like she needs to, but it's a blowjob and he's not going to let reason get in the way of the little bit of pleasure he gets these days. She cups his balls and runs her tongue down the length of his cock. And then she sucks him deep again and then he knows he's going to come. It doesn't take long. It's just like a flash, really, like a button he needed to press to reprogram again. Maybe it's like a Valium, he thinks. No matter. He's come down Melissa's throat. She gets up and runs her hands down her body, but she doesn't seem eager to do anything more. "I'm tired," she says. Gone is her calming, flirtatious voice. She's sated the beast, in her eyes. "I'm going to take a bath, then a nap. I ate already. Want me to order you something?" He shakes his head slowly, as if underwater. She shrugs, gives a finger-wave and then goes off to bed. John feels a mess of emotions. Shame, disappointment, disgust, anger, love. But he's most ashamed because during that one orgasmic second when your body becomes mindless—when you can't quite control the object you fixate on as the cum spurts from you and the atoms in your brain ignite and explode all over—the face that flashed before his lids was June's. JUNE His hand grazes her breast. She knows she should be into this, but she's just not. It's depressing. She's so sexually frustrated, but she can't do it with Tom. Plus they're in his car and it's too small and smells damp. Just not a sexy scene. Rain pounds on top of his car as his hand lowers. She pulls away from Tom, not missing the flash of disappointment and frustration in his blue eyes. "Sorry. I'm just tired tonight." "You were tired last night, too," he points out, sounding like a bratty schoolboy. June swallows her sigh. "Do you still wanna go see the movie?" he asks her, looking out into the dim and hazy parking lot of the theater. "Sure." They watch the crappy movie in silence in the little corner they picked out. There aren't many people in the theater. She sees a couple all but fucking a few rows ahead. If Tom wasn't being such a dick, June would point it out to him. And he'd probably get an idea that she wanted to do that, and then she'd have to say no again and it would be an even bigger fight. So she keeps silent, watching them from time to time and envying their passion. When the movie's over and the lights come back on, June can tell Tom's still mad. She feels a little bad—it has been a while—but she's not in the mood. She holds her head down as she follows Tom down the steps in the aisle, and that's when she comes face to face with her. Melissa Carver is wearing a dress; well, a dress is hanging off of her is a better expression. It hasn't been properly zipped. Her hair is a mess, and her makeup is smeared all over her face. She doesn't recognize the man standing beside Mrs. Carver, tucking his dress shirt into his pants and swinging his eyes from June to Melissa. He's not even cute. He's about Mrs. Carver's height. He's tan with a thick mustache, his face is all sweaty and he looks like he's smoked all his life. And he looks very, very worried. "June," Melissa eventually says. "I'm... I didn't expect to see you here." Tom isn't exactly sure what's going on, but he creeps in to listen more closely. "I bet you didn't," June says mildly. Where the words come from, she doesn't know, but she feels so regal and confident in the face of Mrs. Carver's mess. Mrs. Carver stands up straighter. "This is not what it looks like." June wants to punch her. She wants to drag her around by her soft hair and stab her eyes and rip out her tongue. Rage flashes red in her mind and she can feel her hand tightening into a fist. What she wouldn't give to punch Melissa in her smug little face. Because it is smug. She's caught off guard, but she has no doubt she'll get out of this. She's all polite and contained now, as June vibrates with rage. Tom takes a hold of June's arm. "June, we gotta go." "Nice to see you, Mrs. Carver," she manages to ground out. She feels the woman's eyes on her until she's out of the theater. Once they're back in the car, Tom turns on her. "What the fuck was that?" "She's a neighbor of mine. Cheating on her husband." Tom scoffs. "Oh. Jesus, I thought it was something really fucked up." June narrows her eyes at him. "That is really fucked up." Tom nods. "Yeah, but I mean, it doesn't really have anything to do with you so you don't have to worry about it." "It has everything to do with me!" Tom turns in his seat. "What the hell are you talking about?" "I can't just ignore that." Tom rolls his eyes. "It's none of your business. And if the guy doesn't know on his own, then he's a moron. It's a Saturday night...where the fuck else does he think she is?" She doesn't want to admit that Tom is partly correct. "Just take me home." He turns the car on, shaking his head. The drive back is quiet. She knows he's pissed; she can feel the angry friction between them as they turn on her block. She reaches for the handle and Tom stops her, touching her other arm. "Should I even bother texting you later?" "No. Don't bother." She yanks her arm away, bolts out of the car and slams the door. He speeds away before she can even think of a good name to call him. "Lovers' quarrel?" someone asks. She's so mad that it takes her brain a moment to figure out where she is and who is speaking to her. John Carver is standing at the edge of his property, arms crossed and a grin spread across his face. Oh, God. She's never been a good liar. She's never even been good at withholding the truth. She swallows and takes a deep breath. "We aren't lovers," she manages to say. "He's an idiot." "Most of us are, sweetheart." The endearment is a throwaway. Nothing, really. But it stirs something inside June and she finds herself crossing the street over to him, though she should really be staying the hell away from him. "I'd agree with that assessment." She's thinking of him when she says that, and she thinks he knows it. He examines her carefully. "Everything okay, June?" She studies that band of gold on his left hand. What a joke. She opens her mouth to confess, but no words will come. "Yes, sorry," she finally says. She looks away, unable to look him in the eye. "Goodnight, Mr. Carver." _______________________ Aunt Maggie sits at the kitchen table as June tells her what she saw the night before. She is still and hardly blinking. When June finishes Maggie shakes her head and peers through the blinds at the Carver house. Once, when June was younger, Aunt Maggie sat her down before one of her tutoring sessions. She called her back and June stomped into the kitchen, one strap of the backpack dangling from her arm. "I have a session." "He can wait," she said. She was very serious. June sat immediately. "Mr. Carver is a grown man, June." June blinked. "Okay." "I know you have a crush on him." Her cheeks burned, speaking the truth even as she shook her head. "It's okay. I think he's pretty cute, too." Maggie offered a small smile. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush on someone like that. The more unattainable a guy is, the more we want him." She hesitated. "But he's a married man, and an older man, too, and I just want you to be on guard. You're 18 and you don't know... a lot about this stuff. I just want you to— Just tell me if he touches you, or flirts with you or something, okay?" "Jesus, Aunt Maggie!" Her own cheeks were flushed. "I'm sorry! I just had to say it. And I saw this movie on TV before about this teacher-student relationship and—nevermind, I know you like him and I know he's...fond of you, too, and it's just important for me to get that out there! And we're going to have a sex talk tonight, too. We're overdue. I just looked at you today and thought whoa. You're this woman all of a sudden." "I know about sex." Maggie relaxed and smiled one of her smiles. "Humor me." Later that night Maggie explained a lot of things June's friends left out, and illuminated a lot of things they had yet to learn. Now, many years later, Maggie is sitting in the same exact position as that day, and they're talking about the Carvers once again, only she's pregnant and cranky. And she probably still knows June has more than neighborly feelings for John Carver. "I can't say I'm surprised." June tries to get a glimpse of the house. "Do you think he knows?" Maggie looks back at her. "I have no idea." "Do I tell him?" Maggie takes a deep breath. "I never know what to do in these situations." Sam comes into the kitchen. They've been married a little over two years and it still takes June by surprise when he enters a room. "What's up?" "Junie caught Melissa Carver out with another man." Sam pours himself a glass of water and looks over at June. He's a serious-looking guy, which always comes as a surprise when you find out he has a wicked sense of humor. "Really? Doing what?" "Sam, that's not the point!" Maggie is smiling, though. "Um, yes it is. If they were playing checkers, I doubt the two of you would be whispering in here like this. So, again—what were they doing? Like, did you walk into a room and they were—" "I saw them making out," June interrupts. "In the movie theater. A little bit more than making out, maybe. A lot more, I think, if his sweating and panting were anything to go by." Both make a face. Sam puts his glass down and whistles in disbelief. "Wow. I never pegged her as the type." "What?" Maggie snorts. "I could sniff her out a mile away." "Yes, yes, you are brilliant. But I do know what kind of woman she is. I just never anticipated her acting on it." "Me either," Maggie agrees. The two of them exchange a look June can't fathom. "Should I tell him, Sam?" He joins Maggie at the table and stares down into his water. "I've always held the belief that you should mind your own business when it comes to these things. I would advise you to do the same, sweetheart. Sometimes we think we're doing someone a favor. Sometimes we think we're helping someone out. Instead, all we get is a lot of heartache and a ton of trouble. Always comes back to bite you in the ass." "Don't you think he should know? I would want to know!" "No. I can honestly tell you he doesn't want to know. He loves that woman." Maggie looks from Sam to me and back. "Sam—" "He loves that woman," he repeats. "He thinks she's Cleopatra. You'd break his heart if you told him, but he'd never leave her. You'd just end up making him miserable for the rest of his life." "Sam!" Maggie hisses. "Don't put that on her! She's not the one going out, cheating on her husband." Sam rolls his eyes and stands. "I should know better than getting into it with you two. I can't ever win." He gives June a grin and turns to leave, but then comes back with a more serious expression. "He'll find out in time, June. Believe me. Stay out of it, for your own good." ________________________________ But June's never been known for doing things for her own good. She's forever getting mixed up in other people's problems. Really by now she should have learned her lesson, but she hasn't, unfortunately. The next morning Mr. Carver is reading the paper on his stoop. She doesn't know where Melissa is, but her red car is absent. She's probably off fucking the John Waters lookalike. Mr. Carver looks up from his paper. He doesn't smile at first; his eyes travel slowly up June's body. Her heart speeds up, because she knows that look. Desire. Then he gives her a slow smile. "Mornin', June. You're up early today." "Mr. Carver, can we—" "John!" he laughs. "John," she repeats distractedly. "Can we talk?" "Need help with something?" he asks, more serious now. June looks around the neighborhood. Some people are mowing their lawns, or gardening. Kids are playing with chalk on their driveways, or sprinklers are out and kids squeal as they run through the spray. "Can I come inside?" She thinks she catches him swallow. But then he smiles—definitely a forced smile—and says, "Sure." She follows him into the house, so obviously decorated by Melissa. Everything is red and gold. Ornate. Ostentatious. He points to the sofa and he collapses in the recliner, the one piece of furniture she can imagine he insisted on having. Give me one thing, Melissa, she imagines him pleading. "Are you looking for advice? Or...Are you okay, June?" He thinks for a minute. "Did that guy from the other night hurt you? Because—" "Your wife is having an affair." She blurts it. Just like a band-aid, she thinks, that trite saying. It's not true. It's a fucking lie, and she hates that expression. She wants to kick the testicles of whoever came up with it, or punch her in the tit if it was a woman. Because the pain, the burn of this will sting for a great, extended, long period of time. John's face is frozen, lips open to say something that had died on his tongue once June gave him the news. He tries to swallow several times. She is terrified he is going to hyperventilate or have a heart-attack, or worse—start crying. He is so still that it frightens her. "John?" He swallows again. "How do you know?" His voice is low. Purposeful. "I saw it. Them. At the movies last night. They were...during the movie." His head bends and he seems to be examining the carpet. "And you're sure it was Melissa." "Yes. We even spoke. She said it wasn't what it looked like but... I'd been watching them. For most of the movie. I didn't realize until the end." His eyes close. "Who was the man?" "I don't know. Tall. Thin, with a mustache. Kinda older." He's not really listening. They are quiet for what feels like hours. Eventually June can't handle it anymore. "John, I'm sorry. I didn't know what to—" "Thank you, June. Thank you for telling me," he says flatly without looking up. He speaks the words as if he is reading them off a piece of paper. "Would you mind if I went up for a nap? I think I need to lie down." "No. No, of course not." She stands and is nearly to the door before she turns around and finds John in exactly the same position. "Mr.—John. You're not going to do anything to hurt yourself, are you? I mean, are you okay?" He looks up, as if forgetting where he is and what he is doing. His eyes can't focus on her. They swing around the room, as if the answer for what's happened is just lying around somewhere. "No. I mean, yes. I'm okay. Don't worry about me. Thank you." Slowly June leaves, hoping he'll call her back. John Are there proper words to explain what he's feeling now? If there are, he doesn't know them. He's loved Melissa for years, and through so much. They've loved and kissed and cried and held one another. They've celebrated Christmases and birthdays. They've lived a life together. He wishes he knew what to do. Does he call a friend? They won't understand. They'll offer sympathy. Maybe they'll feel it. But it's too humiliating. Poor guy, they'll think. What a fucking tool. Didn't even know, another might think. He can't bear it. Doesn't even want to talk about it. Should he call his dad, who never liked her, and say, "Here is your proof!" Should he cry? Crumble into pieces? He's sitting in the chair. He can still smell June's perfume. Coming from anyone else, he might not have believed them. You're mistaken, he'd have laughed. Couldn't have been her. Ha ha. Get your eyes checked, man. But June? June he believes. Melissa walks in a few hours later, sunglasses hiked up on the top of her head. She eyes him in his seat, takes note of his dejected pose. Plain Gold Ring Pt. 01 "What's with you?" There are so many things he could do right now. Ask her flat out. Play a game with her until he yanks some semblance of the truth from her. If he were another kind of man, maybe he'd hit her. He doesn't know which option to choose. They're all tempting. So he just goes with it. "Who is he?" She has a grocery bag and has a jug of milk in her hand. She peers over at John and then goes about pulling out the rest of groceries. "Who do you mean?" "The guy you were fucking." Her back is to him. She takes a big breath and slowly lets it out. Then she turns around and walks over to him, catlike. He knows the drill and stands, arms crossed. "How long, Melissa?" She stops a few feet away. "I don't know who or what you're talking about." "I know you've been fucking someone." "Why? Because June Silva told you?" Melissa lets out a brittle laugh. "She misunderstood." He groans and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling. Or God. Or for some fucking help by a greater power. "Just admit it, Melissa. Please." She approaches him. He meets her gaze and the admission is in her eyes. She doesn't have to say it out loud, but she's going to. At least she knows she owes him that. "I'm sorry." It's like every bone has fallen out of John's body. He puts his hand against the wall and leans all his weight into it. "John..." "Why?" She stops short. Fiddles with her necklace. That was always her tell. "I don't know." "You must know. You don't just start fucking someone other than your husband one day for no reason. It's not like 'oh, hmm, I'm bored today, let me go fuck some asshole!'" Her cheeks are flushed with anger. "Don't yell at me!" "I want you out of my house." "John." "Out. Tonight. I don't give a shit. You're not allowed to take anything until we get the cops involved. If you want the cops involved now, fine. Call them. I'm not letting you—" "John, please. We need to talk." She burst into tears. "There were extenuating circumstances. I haven't... been right. It's not you. Not at all. I had a miscarriage." That calms his down, perks his ears up. His muscles relax. All anger drains from him. He's left with confusion and fatigue. "What?" "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to upset you. So I just held onto it myself, you know, thinking I could handle it alone. But it does something to you, John." He finally brings his eyes up to her wet ones. "It does something to you." He takes her in his arms, a bit awkwardly. "You should have told me." "I know," she sobbed. "I've done so many things wrong. I messed up, John! I didn't even like him. I didn't even... I don't know what you want to know. Just know that it was more a self-destructive thing than—" "Shush. Is it over?" "Yes. I'll stop seeing him." John can feel her heart beating against his. His wife's heart. "Can we go to therapy, John? Can we try one more time? Try to forgive me?" He kisses her hair. He fell in love with her at first because of her hair. "I'll try." _______________________________ JUNE It's a bright Saturday afternoon.The bees are buzzing, the kids are playing and the cars are passing by slowly. It's perfect. She's going across town to see Tom's new apartment. They still text one another. She guesses he's her boyfriend. They scratch the other's itch. It suits them fine for now. It's been a week since June told John that Melissa is cheating, but she still lives there. June sees them both outside sometimes, watering her garden, sharing a little kiss. One time June parked her car to go inside and Melissa was just pulling into her driveway. Her eyes met June's and she laughed. Swear to God, she laughed. June doesn't know what Melissa did to keep John with her, and she doesn't want to know anymore. He's ridiculous if he can't see that she manipulates him, manipulates everyone around her. She hears someone call her name. It's John, all sweaty. He's been running. "Hi," he pants. "Been meaning to talk to you." "Really?" she asks, but it's not truly a question. Something clicks between them. John becomes uncomfortable. It really isn't any of her business. She shouldn't be mean to him, or mad at him. She shouldn't even judge him. It's his life, his wife, his marriage. Just because she still has this hopeless crush on him doesn't mean he should say "fuck off" to his wife and run off into the sunset with her (though that would be magical). He stares down and shuffles his feet. "Being an adult is complicated, June." "I'm an adult, too," June reminds him. He looks up at her with wide eyes, as if he'd forgotten. "Being an adult, adult." June's eyebrows lift. "An 'adult, adult'? What the hell does that mean?" He looks a bit mortified but presses on. "I don't know, when you're through with your partying stage and you have a mortgage and a lawn to water and... I don't know. Responsibilities." She silently scoffs and presses her tongue into her cheek. He catches it and frowns. "Look, I've gotta run and—" "There were extenuating circumstances, June. She didn't just— she wouldn't just cheat on me, okay? You don't do that to someone you love. It was something you just can't understand, and I'm sorry that you must be confused and maybe even a little angry with me over it." "More than anything, I feel sorry for you." He pulls back a bit. "Excuse me?" "Everyone. Everyone can see who and what your wife is, but you. And you're the one that's stuck with her forever." He breathes harder, rubs at his shiny forehead. "You don't—y-you're way out of line. I mean, who the hell are you to make such... What is wrong with you?" June shrugs, unrepentant. "Lots of things, I guess, but I wouldn't believe one of those woman's lies." "She had a miscarriage, if you must know." He says it and then looks around him, like he hadn't meant to say it. June shakes her head. "John. I saw her." "Yes, yes, people do all kinds of things when they experience loss, okay, and—" "John, she didn't look like she'd been experiencing any kind of loss. And she keeps giving me these smiles, these smug smirks that...Ugh." June trails off, wondering what the point is of continuing this. Maggie and Sam were right. Nothing good comes of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. "Look, forget I said anything, okay? I wish the both of you nothing but the best. And I hope she stays away from Mr. Tall Tan guy with the mustache." She stalks away but John calls her name. Rolling her eyes, she sniffs away even the hint of a tear and turns. He looks bemused. "What theater was it?" "Are you serious?" "What theater?" he presses. "The one by the new Target." She wants to know what's changed, why he looks a little sick, but she reminds herself that ignorance is bliss. Mr. John Carver isn't worth this. She thought he was. She thought he was this great, kind man who deserved only the best, who had a tremendous amount of self-worth. Not this...guy who stood in front of her, hardly recognizable. "Goodbye, John." She hops in her car and speeds off. JOHN Melissa comes home at around 10pm. Late, but still earlier than usual. Her good behavior is slipping. She gives him a little smile and then shuffles through mail. He stays in his recliner. "I was thinking," John starts, "about the miscarriage today." Melissa stiffens. "Had you gone to the doc and found out you were pregnant, and then lost it, or had you taken a home test or...what?" She spins slowly. "What difference does it make?" He shrugs. "Are you interrogating me about this now?" "I was just curious. Did you go to the doctor after? It's worrisome. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you." Her eyes narrow. "I feel like you're being sarcastic." He doesn't say anything to dispute that. "How could be so cruel to me right now?" "And the therapist? Did you call the therapist?" "Jesus Christ, John! You can call the therapist just as well as I can!" "Yes, but you said you were going to do it. You were going to take care of all of it." Melissa laughs and it's a laugh he's never quite heard before. It sends a chill down his spine. "God, you're still blaming me for everything! You think it's all my fault! That is so like you!" "I was at the theater tonight. I watched you." Melissa freezes. Her smile wobbles. Her breathing hitches. "Why movie theaters, Melissa? Why not motel rooms? Or do you do that, too, on the weekends, when you're supposedly comatose on Carrie's couch?" He gets out of his recliner and crosses the room. "Or...or is it the illicitness? The filthiness? You liked that in the beginning of our marriage. I remember." "What do you want me to say?" Melissa asks, her voice small. Weak. "Nothing," he sighs. "Nothing. There's absolutely nothing you can say. Go upstairs and pack yourself a bag. Get yourself a lawyer. Maybe the veterinarian can help you out. Mr. Tall Tan guy." Her teary eyes study his face. "Tall and tan?" "I know what Ray looks like. That was his description." "Ah." In spite of everything, Melissa smiles. "From June." "This has nothing to do with her. Get your shit, and get the fuck out." She reaches for her purse. Puts her shawl on. Gives him a tired smile. "I am sorry." John shakes his head over and over again. "No, you're not. You're a sociopath. You don't even understand what sorry means." She shrugs. "I'm telling you what you want to hear. Would you rather I just go?" "Yes. I just said that." He looks away from her because he might vomit all over the Persian rug she just had to have. "Get out of my sight, you piece of shit." "I can do that for you." Melissa goes upstairs, tinkers around. Comes down with a bag. She's going out without another word, but there's one last thing he wants to know. He probably won't even get an honest answer, but he has to ask. "Did you even have a miscarriage?" Melissa's heels stop clicking. She rests against the front door and stares at him for what feels like forever. The light catches her eyes as they study his face. He can see her weighing her options, and he knows then that no matter what she says now, she was never pregnant. "You should be disgusted with yourself." She doesn't look it. "And just so you know, I have every intention of telling Ray's wife about the two of you. Who do you think he'll choose? The heiress, or the slut?" For the first time during a fight—ever—Melissa pales. "You wouldn't tell her." "Oh, I would." John gets a grim sense of satisfaction when she twirls her necklace around her finger. "Why not? Don't you think she should know?" He plans on telling her anyway, once everything clears with his divorce. Because she should know. He's met her before. She's very pretty and nice. She can do a lot better. "Are you planning on blackmailing me?" John shrugs and heads over to one of the coffee tables. An old antique elephant Melissa loves is on that table. He picks it up and examines it. "I've always hated this thing," he says, before throwing it on the floor. It breaks and there's absolutely no way it can be fixed. Melissa swallows. Her eyes are wide. "What do you want from me?" "I want the things I deserve. I want everything I ask for in the divorce. Or I'll tell Ray's wife everything. I'll tell your friends everything. Everything." "Maybe I don't care about that," she says, pushing through with her false bravado. He'd always admired that. Now it just seems sad. "It's going to come out, anyway." "Yes, but it can come out my way or just come out. Do you understand the difference, Melissa?" __________________________ A few nights later, John sits outside with his beer and wonders how everything got so fucked. The beer is warm but he doesn't have the energy to get up for a new one. The warm beer'll do. He feels low enough that anything will do. June pulls up in his car and he rolls his eyes. He doesn't want to deal with her judgmental eyes. He has half a mind to run up to her and say "There! I did it! Happy now, Ms. Nosey?" but he's not in the mood to talk to anyone, and that would be immature. He's not even sure if he should be mad at her. It was a fucked up situation. But she crosses the street over to him. He keeps his head down and finally sees her delicate feet encased in pale pink ballet flats. Slowly his gaze moves up, over her thighs, her trim waist...her breasts. "I saw Mrs. Carver moving out the other day. I—I feel horrible for how I spoke to you. How I treated you. I had no right, John. I'm sorry." Without thinking, John gets up and hugs her. Tightly. He thinks he might be hurting her because she lets out a little squeak, so he lessens the hold a bit. But he can't let go. And when he does let her go, he kisses her. It shocks them both. It wasn't planned. Now their lips are fused together, working against one another. Their tongues fuck each other's mouths as their hands slither around their bodies. He doesn't have time to think, to ask himself what the fuck he's doing. She's so young. She deserves better. But he doesn't care. He takes more of her kisses, clutches her ass and presses his hard-on against her hip. She moans loudly against his mouth. June tears herself away from him. Her eyes are bright, and her lips are red and swollen. She covers them with her hand and whips her head around. Eventually John catches on; they've just been making out on his front lawn, beneath his porch light Thank God it's night, and a bit late. No one is out except for the occasional person walking their dog. John takes her hand and drags her closer to him with the intention of bringing her into the house. "No," June whispers. "No, not the house. Seems too...soon." John nods, agreeing. She's right. Some of Melissa's shit is still in there. But he has to have her. She looks so young and beautiful beneath the moonlight. Her hair is loose and she's wearing just a little lip gloss—that tastes delicious, by the way—and her skin is all damp and salty from the humidity. This strange urge to lick her from head to toe and back again comes over him, and he nearly starts kissing her again. She pulls back with a smile. She looks down at something and frowns. She picks up his left hand and removes the gold ring. "Off." "Throw it behind your shoulder. Wards off bad luck." June snorts, and it's a lovely sound. "You could sell it." "Throw it behind your shoulder!" he says again, laughing with her. So she does. He leads her around to the side of the house, presses his hand between her legs. She knocks her head back against the house and curses. "Are you okay?" John asks while he licks a line up her collarbone. "Yes." He lifts her skirt. This feels so dirty, so wanton. He can't remember having sex like this in a long time. A mosquito buzzes by his ear, and he can hear crickets nearby. She's wearing frilly pink panties. He never suspected she is the type. If he allows himself to admit he's fantasized about what's under her clothes, he knows he's always thought she'd wear dependable, sensible underwear. But these are pink and lacy. Nearly see-through and really meant to entice. When he touches June there, she jumps. He can feel the wetness through the material. "John," she whispers. It kills him when she says his name. He kisses her, slow and steady. There are many things in that kiss, many things neither of them are ready for. It doesn't scare him, though. He's solely fixated on her body. John slides her panties down and then rubs his thick fingers against her. She's so wet. It never occurred to him she could want him like this. They've had their moments but he thought that was all they were to her. He's underestimated her. He doesn't know her that well at all, he decides. He kinda likes that. He can't wait to peel back each layer...by layer...by layer. His thoughts cut off. His fingers are swimming through her cum. She's begging as loudly as she dares. A finger has the audacity to push inside her. "Oh, yes." June runs her hands through his hair. The finger moves in and out. Another joins it. Then another. He fucks her like this for a while, enjoying the sounds she makes, the way she looks at him—all big eyes with a puckered brow, like she's worried he'll stop. Or that she'll come. But he wants her to come with him. That's the ultimate fantasy—her coming around his cock. He takes his fingers away and she makes a murmur of disgruntlement, which brings a smile to his face. He pulls a condom out of his wallet as smoothly as he can but she's laughing at him. "I'm sorry. Is this what you want? I've just been pawing at you and—" She takes the condom and unzips his pants. They fall around his ankles, but before he can feel ridiculous she's sliding the condom on. She's touching his cock, jacking it off slowly. Years of fantasies are becoming reality. "June, I don't think... I can't go slow." "Neither can I." She pulls him closer by his shoulders, and then reaches down, helping him move inside her. There's tightness. Resistance. He almost asks if she's a virgin, but he knows she's not. She's moaning slightly in his ear, making little squeaks. The sounds make him harder. John's pace picks up. He wasn't kidding when he said he couldn't go slow. This has gone on too long, her Bambi eyes and her little hips and that one little freckle on her shoulder... He sucks on her neck and she lets out a guttural moan. "John, you're making me crazy," she pants. He hikes her up higher on the wall and lifts both of her legs so they wrap around him. The position is different and she starts involuntarily fucking him back. They thump against the house, harder and faster until June's nails dig into John's arms and she's nearly crying. "I'm coming," she whispers. "Yes," he grunts. He releases in a cathartic flood; the orgasm is so unbelievably good that when he comes down from it, he can't believe the earth is still spinning. June's face is all red. She stares back at him while he shakes against her, his cock still inside her. When they can finally part, June pulls up her panties. John sets himself straight and watches her as she stretches with a big smile on her face. "Man, I'm going to be so sore tomorrow." She walks over and kisses him. "I'm gonna love it." Plain Gold Ring Pt. 02 Thanks, Tinkz, for looking this over for me, even amidst wedding planning. A big THANK YOU to Ramon for reading it amidst crazy work hours and giving me such awesome feedback. You helped me so much. Plain Gold Ring Pt. 02 June senses Maggie wants to douse some ice-cold water of wisdom on her and it's the last thing she wants right now. "He's married, June," Maggie says softly, ignoring June's plea. June doesn't correct her assumption, and Maggie wouldn't have believed her if she had. "I don't care if she's cheating on him. If he says they're through. He loved that woman for years. This is not a situation you want to get mixed up with. He can't give you what you need right now. As a matter of fact, I have a strong feeling he's going to break your heart before this is—" "Okay, you've said what you want," June says snottily, "now please leave me alone. I'll skip class if I want to. I'll fuck John if I want to. If you really have such a huge fucking problem with it then I'll figure out a way to rent an apartment and you won't have to bother seeing me." June slips out of bed wearing only underwear and a faded t-shirt. She pulls on some shorts and throws a glare at her aunt. "You're worried I'm acting like my mother, aren't you? That I'm going to become her. Aren't you?" Maggie's crying and it rips June's heart but she can't think clearly. She's so mad and she's feeling too many things at once. Her aunt wipes some tears away and struggles to stand. When she's on her two feet, she shakes her head. "I would never throw you out. The thought never crossed my mind. And no, I don't think you're becoming your mother at all." Maggie heads for the door, but she says one last thing before leaving. "I'm not questioning your morals or your feelings or your actions. I don't care what you do. I'll always love you. I'm just worried for you. Just try... Just try to remember to keep your feet on the ground. That's all I wanted to say." Plain Gold Ring Pt. 02 Misery loves company, etc., and so does Melissa. Plain Gold Ring Pt. 02 She slides back in and kisses him, but then she steps out into the balmy night. "Good night, John." He watches her walk like a dream across the grass and disappear into the house. He sits there for too long, and eventually reminds himself the last thing he needs is to be found sitting outside June's house, staring up at her bedroom window. He drives over to his house and walks inside, a goofy grin on his face the entire time. He fixes himself another drink he shouldn't have and sits, grinning some more. June fucking Silva.