Author's Notes:
'Melody for a Long Weekend' is my contribution to the '50 Ways to Leave Your Lover' event.
It was also meant to be a quick little story to help me cleanse my palette, freshen my mind, and tickle my fancy (Oops! Overshared there a bit). Instead, it's a beefy tome which will have a sequel.
It's a little sexier than my normal fare as well. Be warned! ο
Special thanks to norafares and Bebop3 for creating this event.
Big thanks to blackrandl1958 for enduring the ordeal of editing this beast.
All characters engaging in sexual relationships or activities are 18 years old or older.
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Chapter 1
"What do you mean you're off? Where are you going?" Melody gasped as her husband looked back at her in surprise.
"I told you last week I was joining Gerry and the gang for a golf weekend. I won't be back until Monday night," he said with an annoyed frown.
"But... the long weekend! I had plans for us--"
"You'll just have to reschedule. I gave you a heads up--"
"When?" she blurted.
He sighed as he turned to walk to the front door while speaking over his shoulder. "Wednesday. I told you on Wednesday. Listen, I have to go, or I'll miss my flight."
Today was Friday. He hadn't spoken to her at all on Wednesday as it had been another day of grunts.
Melody's jaw dropped. Wait! He was flying? He refused to fly anywhere with her. "Where are you going?"
"Scottsdale, Arizona! You really should pay attention when I'm speaking. Then you wouldn't make silly plans that conflict with my calendar."
"I'd like to visit Scottsdale with you," she said softly. She watched his shoulder slump.
He looked back at her. "Some other time. I have to go."
He picked up his suitcase and golf clubs and left the house. She felt herself drifting after him, lost and powerless to stop his escape.
Because that's what this was. She had to be honest with herself. He was running away from her. Eighteen years of marriage and she'd become something he didn't want to face.
She'd tried to rekindle the spark that brought them together, but every year he grew more distant until he'd built up a wall around himself, and her only contact with him was through the services she provided as a housewife.
Cleaning service for his home. Food services to cook his meals. Laundry service, with ironing! She
hated
ironing!
Escort service to warm his bed? She was kidding herself on that last one. The man had completely lost interest in sex. She paused for a second as she thought of Scottsdale and what he might be doing there other than playing golf. She immediately dismissed the idea that he was looking for a little sexual excitement. The man no longer got erections. His golf clubs would be the only stiff shaft he'd be holding in his hands this weekend.
She'd spent hours watching him sleep over multiple nights. She'd done her research. Men experienced nocturnal penile tumescence several times a night, but her husband didn't. She'd tried mentioning it to him gently, how she never got to see his morning wood any more, and he'd given her the dirtiest look.
He hadn't talked to her for days for mentioning it.
The biggest problem was that while his sex drive dried up, hers was racing down the runway for take-off. It took very little to start her engine, but all she was getting these days was frustration.
As her husband loaded his golf clubs and suitcase in the trunk, she looked down at herself. She had an attractive body that she kept in shape with regular visits to the gym. It was tight and pretty firm as she was only thirty-six years old, firmer than anything her forty-year-old husband had shown her lately.
She'd kept her hair long as
she
liked it that way. Her friends were all going with shorter cuts for the convenience of them, but she loved the look and feel of her long mahogany wavy locks. It reached mid-back, and she was keeping it! When she went to the stylist and spa, they had standing orders to leave her hair length alone. She didn't mind their adding bold colors to her nails, which were currently painted a dark chocolate brown to match her eyes.
Her inner circle all said she had beautiful features with soulful eyes. She knew she was no fashion model and took her friend's compliments with a grain of salt, but she accepted she wasn't unattractive. She certainly received her share of attention at the fitness club but always turned them down. That was a recipe for disaster, and besides, the men she'd met there were bottom feeders.
She'd envied some of the ladies at the gym for their perfect breasts in their spandex until she saw them in the showers with their ripples and stiffness and realized they were fake. Hers, while not large, were nicely round and high, more than a good handful in a C cup, with minimal sag. She liked to put her girls on display, showing off her cleavage, but her husband showed no interest anymore.
She kept her body toned though she did have a little softness in her tummy and ass. Her legs weren't heavy or chunky.
All in all, she was a damn nice 5' 8", 130 lb package.
Why was she in this situation? Why was she trapped in a loveless and frustratingly, sexless marriage with a man who'd become a eunuch, both physically and emotionally?