The Minotauress

Ajax... gaped. And got wood. The dozen or so polaroids showed different poses of the same girl. Beautiful. Stark naked. Pert breasts with nipples sticking out like rose-pink thumb-ends, long honey-nut hair and ocean-blue eyes, a tight flat stomach and a perfectly shaved—

"Man oh man," Ajax muttered. "This is the same chick you showed me at Anthony's. Your last ex in DeSmet."

Each lewd pose punched him in the eye like glaring pornography. Lying on a bed with her long legs straight up, fingers squeezing her cherry-sized clitoris. Hands and knees, grinning wickedly over her shoulder, perfect ass upthrust. Lounging on her side with a dildo the size of a gourd stuck up in her to the end. And much, much more.

"Arianne," Dean whispered.

Ajax was shaking his head back and forth over and over, pressed by disbelief. "This girl's hotter than a rock in a campfire... and you dumped her?"

"Didn't just dump her," Dean reminded. "I cheated on her, treated her like shit, and beat the crap out of her. More times than I can count."

Ajax' gaze widened on Dean. "You're fuckin' nuts. This girl's even hotter than Daphne. Ten times hotter."

"And ten times hotter in bed. Arianne had a pussy that would suck your cock like a mouth. Every time we changed positions, she'd give me head. And she had an asshole so tight, you'd think you were fucking a puppy. She was the best lay of my life. She'd fuck my brains out every day and fall asleep with my dick in her mouth every night."

"Hardcore," Ajax muttered, still eyeing the pictures and pitching an uncomfortable tent. "Your wife ever let you take pix of her like this?"

"Aw, fuck no. That fickle cunt? She wouldn't be caught dead. If I even suggested it, she'd make me see a counselor. Look, I know you think Daphne's cheating on me, but here's why I know she's not. She's a fussy prude, she's frigid. I know I'm good in the sack. Just ask any girl in DeSmet. But Daphne? She could care less about sex. She acts like she's doing me a fucking favor every two months when she puts out. But I'll tell you, whenever I fuck that snitty hosebag... I pretend she's Arianne. Arianne was the ultimate hot number, and she really loved me. Christ, she'd fuck my balls dry, wash my clothes, clean the apartment, cook my meals—shit, she did everything for me."

"And you cheated on her, beat her up, and dumped her," Ajax added.

Dean solemnly nodded.

"You're whacked, brother. I don't care how good-looking Daphne is, this Arianne chick is hotter, and she didn't jerk you around. Daphne treats you like a bad dog."

At that moment, the phone rang.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" Ajax asked.

"Hell no. It's her."

The phone rang a few more times, then the answering machine kicked on. "It's me," Daphne said. "Just thought you might want to know that I got to Vegas safely. Obviously you're not home, probably out drinking with that dingleberry Ajax. Honestly, Dean, can't you cultivate some friends who aren't useless detriments to society? And make sure that goddamn house is clean when I get back, or there'll be hell to pay."

click

Dean and Ajax traded glances.

"Sorry," Dean said.

"I'm delighted to be so highly thought of by the lady of the house."

"Don't feel bad. She hates anybody I know."

Ajax finished his beer, set in on the dresser. "Look, I don't care if your wife thinks I'm a dingleberry and a useless detriment to society. My question is how can you let her treat you like that?"

Dean silently shook his head.

"That's love? That's respect?"

"No," Dean admitted.

"You gotta listen to shit like that till death do you part?"

"It's fucked up."

"So why the hell did you get married?"

Dean sat limp on the bed. "My old life... It just seemed wrong. That's why I cut bait and moved here. I felt I needed to change."

Ajax sighed. "Dean, seasons change, tides change, baseball lineups change, but people don't change. I am who I am, and you are who you are. It's not change you're talking about, it's adaptation. You're trying to adapt to Daphne's way of life because you think that's the right thing to do. You've got this idea in your head that the way you used to be was bad."

"It was bad," Dean countered. "Fighting in bars every night, hot-rodding, drinking enough beer and whiskey to fill Lake Union, and abusing the only woman who every really loved me? That's not the way it's supposed to be. I needed to change."

"No," Ajax said, "you needed to modify some aspects of your life. There's a difference." When Dean wasn't looking, Ajax slipped one of the polaroids into his pants. What the fuck? he thought. Then he continued, "You left your home and got married for all the wrong reasons."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I know."

"And there's a bigger problem right now," Ajax added.

"What's that?"

"This is a textbook gradual degradation of your every day persona." Even Ajax was astonished. "Non-REM Imagery Syndrome is one thing, but I hate to say it, buddy. You're displaying some far worse symptoms."

"Symptoms of what?"