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This appears in a pre-2010 issue
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MERRY, GERRY, AND LARRY
Allen Dale Olson
Meribelle finally figured it out and turned boiling mad. She just realized that Geraldine, at the hairdressing salon, was having an affair with her husband. Why didn’t she sense it sooner, she wondered. Every Friday she would hear Gerry tell her beauty operator about the lovely evening she and Larry were planning. After listening to several such conversations, Merry concluded that her Larry was the same charming Larry, the architect with “cute blonde hair, a love of baseball, and great taste in wine,” who could come to her only a couple times a week because he’s married.
Larry is an architect, a died-in-the-wool Cubs fan, and a wine aficionado. He also works late every Tuesday and Friday evenings. His office is on the ground floor of a downtown building with apartments on the upper floors. Merry had heard Gerry often describe her apartment on Astor Street, the same street as Larry’s office. “It all fits,” she said, as her anger mounted. Not just anger. Pain. Humiliation.
She began stuffing clothes into a suitcase. “Should I confront him and walk out,” she mused aloud; “or just leave?” The question gave her pause. “Leave for where?” It gave her reflection. In seven years, she and Larry had created a beautiful suburban home in a very affluent neighborhood. She moved in an elite social circle, had plenty of spending money, luxurious vacations, and could get her hair done every week at one of the city’s finest salons. Besides, Larry was good to her and, at least till now, had been good for her. All of this would be hard to give up, especially as she thought about explaining Larry’s dalliance to friends and family.
Her head was clearing. “There has to be another way to deal with this,” she thought. And she was right....
... Three weeks later Merry and Gerry left the salon together. They were going to lunch. During the intervening three weeks Merry had become friends with Gerry. She would join conversations and occasionally ask Gerry about her relationship with Larry. Their personalities had clicked, so they were off to lunch where they would share their intimate secrets, Merry about her husband, Gerry about her lover, totally unaware they were talking about the same man.
At lunch Merry asked Gerry what kind of evening she was planning. “Very intimate,” Gerry replied. “He can never stay long, so we get romantic right away. Tonight he’ll walk up to my apartment and ring the bell. When he opens it, I’ll be there in a black, lacy slip holding a bottle of Moet&Chandon champagne with some Vivaldi on the phonograph. We’ll sip on the champagne and fondle a bit, maybe even have sex. Depends on the time. He loves beautiful lingerie. Tuesday I think I’ll greet him wearing a high-necked sheer white blouse and lacy white panties and play some Mozart. I try to make every minute interesting for him...”
... It was about 9:30 p.m. when Larry came through the kitchen door from the garage and stared in astonishment as Merry approached him in a lacy black slip carrying a bottle of Moet&Chandon. Vivaldi’s Four Seasons sang from the hi-fi. “You look startled,” she cooed. “You caught me off guard,” he said; “This is a totally unexpected surprise. Wow!”
His astonishment that Friday was nothing compared with the reaction the next Tuesday when Merry came to the car before he even got out. He could hear Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik through the open door. She was in a frilly white blouse and sheer white panties. His face almost matched the panties. “You don’t look well,” she murmured.
“I’m ok,” he stammered; “just a little tired from the drive.” But he didn’t comment on the wine or the sandwiches. He stared at Merry but seemed deep in thought. He had not yet suspected anything more than coincidence.
At the hairdresser’s on Friday, Gerry showed Merry the pale blue Italian panty and bra set she had just bought. “For this evening,” she giggled. “I also have a piece of French foie gras and a gewŸrztraminer from Alsace. This’ll blow his mind.”
On her way home, Merry made a couple of stops. Larry almost choked when he walked into the living room to find a blazing fire in the fireplace and Merry prancing in a pale blue panty and bra set. “Guess what,” she sang, “I stopped at the French Market and bought some foie gras and gewurztraminer.”
She expressed surprise that he had no appetite for one of his favorite dishes. “I’m just not used to this,” he said. “Really?” she replied. “That’s too bad. I was hoping you’d like it.”
Merry and Gerry were now getting identical hairstyles. Larry was becoming more and more shell-shocked as he experienced two look-a-likes twice a week in the same undies, the same hairstyles, the same cosmetics, offering the same food and wines. He knew that Merry knew he was very uncomfortable, and he was becoming less certain that she was unaware of the reason.
Gerry mentioned it first. She indicated to Merry that her Larry didn’t seem to be feeling well. Then she said outright to Larry that she was worried about him. “You don’t seem yourself,” she said, pointing out that he no longer talked about the wine, that he only toyed with food, and that he seemed pre-occupied.
Imagine his discomfort when Merry brought up the same things. “Maybe you should see a doctor,” his wife suggested. His partner at work recommended a vacation. By this time both women were so much alike that his psyche was becoming very disoriented.
Gerry wasn’t surprised when Larry suggested that perhaps they should stop seeing each other for a while. She was disappointed but realistic enough to know that affairs with married men seldom have futures. She agreed, and not long after she found another apartment – and another lover...
... Three years later Larry has regained his health and peace of mind. Merry continues to see Gerry but doesn’t seem quite so interested in her new lover. On Tuesdays, Larry presides over the local Lions Club, and on Fridays he and Merry go with a neighborhood gourmet club to dinner. Only Merry knows the whole story.
