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Listening

Eric Burbridge

    For a second, I felt guilty knowing what I was about to do was not aiding my recovery. When I joined the support group it was not clear what each member specifically suffered from...no details, but a sexual fetish addiction was everybody’s problem. Voyeurism is my thing. I love to listen; my audio aphrodisiac got me in this situation. I inserted the disk in the tray; don’t do it, Arcmon, don’t. My stubby finger did not listen to reason. A slight push and it disappeared into the machine. Adjust the volume...low was best while I lay there and saw myself rise and harden. When my Lyma arrives, she will be happy. “I love it when you’re ready,” she says. “It’s all for you,” I lie, but it’s for me. I tell myself that to add a bit of normalcy to my addiction. Could I buy this stuff online? No doubt. But where would the fun be? Eavesdropping is real...no acting. Why don’t I tape my own lovemaking? I do not know; I like it this way. Crazy, but so what.
    This is not my hobby...writing short fiction is. I took a long hiatus from my fetish, but when I joined a writer’s group the females were too gorgeous to ignore. We started out communicating on social media and after meeting at public places we decided to meet at Tess’. The nicest thing about everybody there was no spousal interference; no apparent jealousy or other negative emotions. Tess’ good looks and personality did not bother her athletically built husband, Milton, who welcomed us with open arms. It gave him the opportunity to retreat to his man cave with a cold six pack. Their enviable contemporary family room was uncluttered, well-lit with mirror shined hardwood floors. Liz was a good chubby with curves and soft spoken. Omar and Abdul were the short and stocky battling Muslim twins who nicely, but sharply critiqued each other’s work. Anybody else who criticized their work got an arched eyebrow, but they listened and made the appropriate changes. We all had such a wonderful time at Tess’ she suggested all our meetings be there. It was convenient and she enjoyed the once monthly company. My addiction started nimbly away at my promise not to lust for Tess. But when she read a portion of her erotic story, she got quite animated with sounds of the characters lovemaking, it aroused me. The meeting ended on the usual high note. God knows I tried to shake the temptation to hear Tess in her private encounters with her husband.
    It won’t hurt to hear a little bit, just a little. Liz too, she might sound even better.

*

    The sounds she made stayed in my mind all the way to “The Spy Shop.” My buddy from high school opened it when he went on disability retirement from the state. Little Howie gained a ton of weight and needed help around the shop due to the awkwardness of his wheel chair. I was his best part-time employee let him tell it.
    Don’t go I told myself, turn around.
    But I didn’t and my buddy gave me several outdated recorders, cameras and their software. He knew I loved to eavesdrop and I kept quiet about his suspected illegal activities. “Business is good, Arcmon, keep them, no sales record.” Leave that stuff there. But I didn’t. I made a mental note of Tess’ place on the way home for the ideal location where to best place my small electronic friend on the next visit. Lucky me, the guest bathroom was out of commission. One device in the main bath with its large shower, I figured they got it on all the time, would do the trick...under the top drawer of the huge double sink vanity cabinet.

*

    Tess called and cancelled this month’s meeting, but she suggested we double up, Friday and Saturday for the upcoming Memorial Day holiday. All agreed, I did not see us accomplishing a lot since she said bring your own bottle. Several events in the past month inspired several of my stories. I couldn’t wait to share.
    The device I planted was sound activated and cut on and off after fifteen minutes. It stayed in the back of my mind even with my working the program, religiously. Was I a hypocrite? Yes, but I want this. Time to get on the computer and hear what I got. A few adjustments and I was ready.
    The door slammed that triggered the recorder: “Hey honey is that you?” The toilet seat drops and Tess lets out a monster fart. I was not a freak for listening to someone take a dump. I fast forwarded slightly. The water is running, she must be washing her hands, turns off the exhaust fan and then nothing. I had a lot to cover. The solution; do random. In the meantime, Lyma was headed my way and she sounded like she was in a love making mood.
    The marathon love making I anticipated would be more of a release than anything. We came together and passed out. When I opened my eyes and looked at the clock Lyma was half way to work. “Enjoy your day,” she scribbled on a piece of paper and left it on the pillow. I promised myself to stick to today’s plan; straighten up the house, which was rarely junkie, read for an hour and write at least three pages of my anthology.
    Tess called, she was excited to get her first acceptance. “You guys come by and celebrate. While we get drunk if a meeting breaks out that’ll be fine too.” Sounded good. I picked up a moderately priced bottle of whatever the wine clerk at the Liquor Depot recommended. Tess lived within walking distance from my condo. I got a good whiff of today’s ozone standing at the light. Tess’ husband pulled up in his BMW with a few shady mob looking guys in the back seat. I waved and he nodded...he did not look happy and sped away when the light changed. Being a writer, my imagination started to run away with me. Forget that and mind your business.
    Tess waved the acceptance in everybody’s face like a kid with a new toy. The group got good and drunk; I took it easy. The sunset cooled off the walk home. I imagined what she would do in the bed tonight. Several hours later I woke and turned on the computer. Decisions, decisions. Should I listen or do random? Yes: The toilet flushes, “Your club met longer than expected.” Milton said.
    “Yeah, but it was good, they asked about you.”
    “Too bad that acceptance didn’t have a bigger check with it. You’re on edge, come to bed.”
    Tess’ voice was louder now she had to be in the bathroom and turned on the shower. “Milton, get in it will ease the tension.” I imagined what the silence was about.
    “Your hands are wonderful, Tess.”
    “Wow...are you ready or what? Come inside, worry about the money later.” The shower door slammed shut. Their moans and groans did nothing for me. Maybe the running water dampened the effect. Curiosity would be my undoing, but I could not help myself and rewound a few days.
    “I got the books where they asked...that’s it.”
    “What if they insist?” Tess asked. The toilet flushed. I forgot Milton mentioned he was a CPA, who aspired to write but ended up supporting his wife’s dream. Was he embezzling money or what? Was he into loan sharks or worse, if that was possible? Their voices faded; they left the room. I needed to stop this mess. Call your sponsor and talk about it. No, bad idea. He was a friend, but eavesdropping would turn him against me especially since I visited on occasion. Pray about it, like Lyma said. I never paid religion any attention; some of the worst people in the world went to church, but I managed to piece together a few words and asked for help and forgiveness for what it’s worth. I decided to pull my device; I had more than enough to listen to.
    I looked at the calendar, two weeks before the groups next meeting. My cell vibrated. Lyma, I hoped she was in the mood. “Hello.”
    “What you doing, baby?”
    That sounded inviting. “Sitting here in my robe...”
    “Don’t move I’m on my way over.”
    “Okay.” It would take her a half hour if traffic was light; rush hour was starting. Suddenly I rose to the occasion, but I needed a booster. I planned to wear her out and hit the power button on the computer. It could not come on fast enough. I went to the file that was ready. I listened to Tess and Milton go at it like dogs. God help Lyma. My phone lit up. Oh no, don’t tell me something happened; I was ready to go.
    “There’s one helluva back up on the expressway, I’ll be there as soon as possible. This can destroy the mood.”
    “Don’t let that happen, see you soon.” Damn expressway, those idiots were probably shooting at each other again. She would be at least an hour or so. Might as well listen in a little more. That little whisper telling me not to meant nothing...be glad I slowed down.
    “If you don’t give me some, I’ll tell Arcmon you used his story, or most of it, and called it yours.” Milton laughed loudly.
    “You wouldn’t dare.” The shower door slammed.
    “I’m messing with ya, you know that.” The water came on and so did the sounds of ecstasy.
    I was shocked. She stole my story and got paid. What story was that? I went to documents. The only stories I shared were the ones I did not think would be accepted. I scrolled down the list. There were bullet points by two. “The Early Evening” was the one I left at her place. When we celebrated nobody looked at the acceptance letter nor did she show it to us. What did she change or was it verbatim? Can’t trust anybody nowadays. Should I be flattered? Perhaps, but still. How could I expose her without causing any mess? There were all friends I enjoyed being around.
    Be bold, if she was bold enough to steal, I’ll be bold enough to ask to see the acceptance letter.
    Unless I see the story, it means nothing and I could do nothing. Face it, Arcmon, she did better research of the markets. I calmed myself when the doorbell rang. I was still ready to terrorize Lyma, and it went according to plan.

*

    Over the next several days Lyma and I attended six meetings. My girlfriend is a sex addict and she needs it all the time. I would be a fool to think I’m the only guy in her life. No problem for her, but what about me? Quality not quantity is most important. She insists the program works for her especially being older. What? Did I love her or what? I was lucky to have her or better said, be one of her several guys. I was an average guy; average height, average weight and intelligence, but solid and strong with jet black hair and an enviable tan. One hundred percent straight; no dibbing or dabbing. It got to the point in our relationship a decision had to be made. Go or stay.
    The early morning downpour finally ended and left it humid as hell. The ceiling fan helped, but the AC would do better. I did not feel like getting up to turn it on and I did not want to disturb her sleep. Her snore was sexy, to me anyway. She shifted on her side and I really gave her a good look over. She has a good face, not a pretty face, perfect teeth, smooth skin with multi-colored compassionate eyes. Her flat stomach was nearly perfect, no stretch marks and her pliable gymnastic maneuvers in bed would make any red-blooded male try to drain himself. No fat, nowhere...36-21-38, incredible measurements to kill for.
    Tess cancelled the meeting, “Next week guys,” she said. Fine with me and during that brief break in the action we attended more than enough meetings. I did not need that audio boost. Thank God, but I was cautious. For the first time Lyma asked what was my problem. “I’m not on the down low if that’s what you think,” I said, more sternly than intended. What would she think of me if I told her I like to listen? “You sick bastard.” That would kill me. I will come up with something the next time she asks, call me weird, but not crazy. She also suggested, in a roundabout way, she keep me company more often. She was tugging at my heart, what do I do?
    Be careful and keep it your chest where it belongs. Divorce tried to teach me that, but that was several years ago. Incorporate the program into this part of your life, Arcmon. One day at a time. And start deleting a portion of the recordings with the most static interference. What caused it? Little Howie would have to answer, it was probably the age of the device. I will solve that problem at the next meeting.

*

    I felt good on the way over to Tess’, getting their noise out of my system would be a good thing. Their sound effects were not needed anymore, hopefully. It was close to a hundred and humid, regardless, I stopped at the liquor store and got the usual. The local rib joint was cooking up a storm, but it was too early for any pork. I will surprise Lyma with an order of tips on the way home. I dodged several kids on bikes and noticed crossing guards at the corners. A half day of school was the answer, I remember those days. Leaving work early and rushing to get early child care for the rest of the day. A middle-aged crossing guard blew her whistle at the traffic and pointed the stop sign with authority. The kids stood there patiently and rocketed down the street when she signaled. When I turned the next corner, I could not help but notice a black Chevy SUV with a couple of guys who looked like cops. If that was a stake-out it was tv obvious. A blind man could see them. Were they watching Tess’ place? I felt their eyes on me when I passed by. I rang her bell and fantasized her greeting me in a loose-fitting gown. Fat chance, but I did notice the guys in the SUV were paying attention. She greeted me in the usual fashion and did not look their way. Day dreaming and minding other people’s business, I forgot to formulate a strategy to question her on her acceptance. Be straight forward; “Tess, let us see the letter; lucky you, I’ve never seen one.” Like that would work. She worked for politicians as a consultant on occasions and would probably avoid it some kind of way. I was late or they were early, but everybody showed. Omar and Abdul studied manuscripts when I entered and were agitated when I stopped to speak. The heat had the group in shorts and tank tops. There was an ice chest full of bottled water, soft drinks and beer next to the cocktail table. Omar continued to read his first-person version of what a day owning and working at their family’s corner store. Boring, but I paid attention respectfully. I reminded myself not to get distracted.
    Tess stole my story!
    When I clear that up, I’ll go remove the recorder. An important step in my recovery. Several beers later and Tess’ promise to show the acceptance letter, that didn’t happen, I headed for the bathroom. “Arcmon, excuse the mess we had work done in the bathroom,” Tess said.
    “No problem,” as I passed a box that contained a cabinet mirror or whatever. Jesus, I hoped they did not replace that cabinet yet. If they did, would they notice it or know what it was? Maybe not and if someone did, it probably would not be at the house or not until they try to put it in somebody else’s house. Contractors...a bunch of crooks, forever cutting corners.
    I turned on the light; it revealed a hideous new deep gray semi-gloss paint job and a replaced shower door with geometric designs that gave me a headache. I hit the exhaust fan to cover any noise. The large dual face bowls were replaced with clear glass ones and all fixtures were gold colored. My heart skipped a beat, they changed the cabinet. Wait a second, a closer look revealed they changed the knobs. Thank God! I opened the drawer and felt on the bottom for the recorder. My fingertip slowly crossed over a guide for the drawer. Be careful, I didn’t need to pick up a splinter. Got it, but I felt something else next to it. I snatched the recorder, shoved it in my pocket and flushed the toilet just in case, then I turned on the flashlight on my phone and looked.
    What the...it was another device a couple of inches to the right of where mine was.
    I made sure I wiped it clean in case I accidently touched it. I took a quick leak, washed my hands and returned to the group. I had a million questions. Who was listening to the Warner’s? When I changed recorders, I did not see that thing, that was a few weeks ago, so who had been there? Like I could find out. Was a group member a freak like me? Was it the Muslim twins? That would really be intriguing. Then I imagined Liz in the comfort of her bed making different moves with every sound they made. Liz was not a bad looking woman, a little on the heavy side, but her curves were natural not from girdles and other enhancements. I imagined us going at it like dogs. I snapped out of that daydream when Tess said she found the acceptance. The editor did not mention the title just the congrats and the date it would be online. Strange to say the least, but she admitted to using a few of the group’s thoughts and comment to polish the story. If only I could tell them what she did.

*

    The sinister looking characters in the SUV were gone. No surprise, but I was still spooked. I stuck the key in the dead bolt and froze. Paranoia overwhelmed me. I was being watched. Perhaps. Serves you right, Arcmon. That little whisper of conscious said. No, it doesn’t I almost said aloud. I slammed the door and in the middle of the room I spun and gave the room the finger. “If you’re looking take that!” That was not smart. How was I supposed to know or suspect surveillance anyway? I told myself to relax and call Lyma. “I need a visit, beautiful, are you busy?”
    “No, I’ll be right over,” she said.
    I smiled and started searching for any surveillance devices. It would take Lyma at least an hour to get here. Put that time to good use. If whoever they were, are watching, were they watching everyone else in the group? If they knew anything about me, they would know to use their latest equipment. When I worked for Little Howie, I did more than clean-up behind him. What I did learn, I retained, like riding a bike. I was halfway through when the doorbell rang.
    Lyma’s new frosted tips hair style enhanced that good face and bright eyes. We laid there staring at the ceiling fan vibrate and drench our sweaty bodies with hot air. She broke the silence. “I haven’t been with anybody but you since going to the meetings for several weeks now, believe it or not.” She’d said I was the only guy she had unprotected sex. Did I believe her? I didn’t know, did it matter? In a way having her to myself would be flattering, but do not lose touch with reality. Was she happy with me alone, is that what she’s saying or what?
    “Sounds good.” The sincerity in those multi-colored eyes got me. What do I do now? First, think about that later, being distracted from what I did before she got here is not acceptable. Find a reason to send her on her way and continue the search. I forgot to destroy the recorder and delete my special files from previous places I lived. I convinced Lyma to go to the meeting without me, I needed to write down a few ideas while they were fresh in my mind. She did not believe me, but left anyway. I finished the sweep like a pro. The place was clean; once I deleted the files I would feel better. To hell with my audio aphrodisiac. I did not need it, Lyma did the trick. But what if we broke up? We never made a commitment anyway and I had my eyes on Liz the last few meetings. Her casual hug caused a reaction I did not expect. So that answered my question. In a strange way I felt my prayers had been answered.
    Before I took a hammer to all my devices, I called Little Howie. “What causes static in these things? Could it be from another device close by or what?”
    “Ah, you been a naughty boy, Arc, shame on you.” Howie laughed and I was embarrassed.
    “It’s not what you think.”
    “Okay, whatever you say, but move it around that should solve the problem, my friend. It’s been a while what’s up with you?” We talked for a long while. It was good to get caught up.
    I went back to my devices. Whoever was listening to the Warners, did they have the same static problem? If they did, so what. I would not be able to pinpoint when the device was installed anyway. Soon all my stuff will be gone. I hammered those flash drives damn near into dust and flushed them several times for good measure. I pulled up my best files from years ago; thinking about the contents had me so aroused it hurt. But a decision had to be made. My finger tip hovered over the delete key. I broke out in a cold sweat. Now or never, Arcmon. I decided to free myself and hit it. Good bye and good riddance.
    I did it...finally! That deserves a cold one.

*

    I watched my phone vibrate to the edge of the coffee table. Those two beers put me under. I had no idea I was that tired. It stopped and started again, I didn’t feel like looking, but did it anyway. Omar, what did he want? He never called before.
    “Hello.”
    “It’s Omar, how are you?” He asked with his heavy Middle Eastern accent.
    “Ok. Sorry, I missed your call, what’s up?”
    “I went by Tess’ place and I peeked through a crack in the blinds and the place is empty, like they moved in a hurry.”
    “Damn, I wonder what happened?” The first thing that came to mind, those strange guys with Milton and in front of their place. But to hell with Tess, she stole my story and got paid. “Well Omar, I don’t miss her.” I started to tell him but changed my mind. What good would it do?
    “I thought you liked her.”
    “I did...do. But you went over there when Milton was supposed to be at work...um.”
    “Don’t start that crap, Arcmon.”
    I laughed. “I’m messing with you, don’t get upset.”
    I saw a couple of guys parked in a black SUV parked a few doors down. They smelled like feds to me.”
    If anybody could sniff out a fed an Arab could. “You tell the others?”
    “Yeah, so I’ll be around if the others want to resume the group activities. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.
    I laid back and stared at my favorite part of the ceiling with all the answers. What happened to them that they didn’t say good bye. Witness protection or murder? My recorder could not be traced back to me. If this was a God sent revelation, I better listen...stop listening, Arcmon, and never do it again. Whatever the Warner’s problems were for several weeks I kept my eyes open. I felt good and secure, if Big Brother was watching I did not feel it. They were gone. I was good, praise God. Things were going beautifully between me, Lyma and Liz. What more could a guy ask for?

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