penpusher: (Feet)
[personal profile] penpusher
Sid and Nancy were having trouble. Not Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen, Sidney Allen and his wife Nancy Clark. They met sixteen years ago at a college film seminar, having just seen the biopic about their more famous namesakes, and struck up a quick, hard, penetrating and mutually satisfying friendship in a bathroom stall while their friends hung out waiting to go to the diner for a post-screening snack and talk.

It wasn’t until mid-semester that everyone realized they were emulating the film, minus the heroin, and had sequestered themselves in Sid’s off campus apartment, coming out only for classes, food and fresh tampons and condoms.

Their wedding was right on campus at Bishop Chapel, honeymoon over their Senior Year Spring Break at Lake Havasu. And then nestling in to a decent suburb of Houston, where Sid could attend law school and Nancy could find worthwhile employment, nothing at all like 1977 New York.

Currently, the trouble was sex. Or no sex. At all. In college, all Nancy had to do was face away from Sid and bend at the waist and in seconds, it was happening. Now, when they did happen to be in the same room, they would be working through budgets or reading material for their jobs, her social work cases and his divorce attorney suits. Why couldn’t he see that he was on the path to irreconcilable differences himself, Nancy wondered.

One fateful evening, when Nancy was feeling especially lonely, she broke a rule and fired up Sid’s laptop. She wasn’t exactly “snooping,” and she promised herself if she found something “bad” she would pretend like she never saw it.

Sid didn’t password protect anything on his computer. There wasn’t a “porn” collection. Not even any photos of the three actresses he listed as his “free shots” if he ever met them.

But there was a file folder on the desktop labeled: “Jolie v. Pitt.” That was too tantalizing to ignore.

No, Sid wasn’t working a celebrity case, but in the plaintiff’s list of complaints, there was a link to an unidentified website. Nancy noted the address, shut down Sid’s machine and went to her own laptop to have a look.

A special club for couples and single women. Yes, with photographs and detailed descriptions. And yes, Nancy could feel her libido warming to the words and images.

She hurriedly filled out an application for Sid and her to attend the next “Gathering” as it was called, submitted the fee and the requisite photos of the two of them on a pink sand beach during their excursion to the British Virgin Islands, their last practical time off together almost three years ago.

Nancy was counting the days to the evening of The Gathering, still not even mentioning a word to Sid. She rented him a tuxedo, got a gown on consignment, purchased some new fabulous lingerie and greeted Sid at the door, without the gown, when he got home.

They immediately, eagerly and wordlessly started to make out, but before Sid could get too excited, Nancy backed away, showed him his tux, and went upstairs to dress.

Sid was very curious. A black tie event at an undisclosed location?

The twenty minute GPS directed ride deposited them near the center of a small town at what looked like an old-fashioned bank with Somerset door and columns. Their identification checked at the door against a list before entering.

Once inside, it was a decadent display. A runway where hosts and hostesses would parade, fashion show style, in various states of undress. A lounge with beds for sofas was already getting a light workout by early arrivers. Various people circulated throughout the room taking orders for food, drink or other items.

“What is this place?” Sid smiled suspiciously as they sat on a bed/sofa.

“Why hello, there!” A man in a dinner jacket and his companion, a woman dressed as a belly dancer both plopped down between them. “My name is Jackson and this is Kennedy. Kennedy sat up straight and that’s when Sid noticed he could see right through her sheer top.

Kennedy stared at Sid. “We’ve never seen you here before and we always like to treat the newbies.”

“Greet the newbies.” Jackson corrected. “Treating comes later. So, what brings you here? What are you looking to do?”

“I’m Nancy and this is Sid. I surprised him with this and I was about to explain it when you arrived.”

“Oh!” said Jackson, tracing Nancy’s leg with his eyes. “Let’s show and not tell. May I?”

Jackson got a smile from Nancy and he lifted her leg with his hand and removed her stiletto heel. He paused and sighed, then immediately removed her other shoe.

“Nancy. You have the most beautiful feet I’ve ever seen! Look at those toes Kennedy!” Jackson said, coaxing Nancy into pointing her pedicure straight out.

Sid was delivered a whisky as he watched this stranger wax poetic over his wife’s feet. Somehow though, Nancy was enjoying it. The guy was starting to massage Nancy’s soles and he was getting his face right in front of them for a very close look.

“What do you like Sid?” Kennedy smiled.

“I definitely don’t like feet, that’s for sure.” Sid sniffed as he downed the rest of his whisky in a gulp. “It’s the most disgusting part of the body.”

When Sid glanced back at Nancy, she appeared to be in some sort of ecstatic trance. Then, when he looked down at Jackson, he saw his wife’s toes in his mouth.

“What the hell?!”

“I’m sorry, but Nancy has really gorgeous…”

“Yes, you said she has gorgeous toes. How does that translate into putting them into your mouth?”

Kennedy placed her hand on Sid’s chest. “My goodness. Your heart is beating so fast.”

“What kind of freak massages and sucks the toes of a total stranger?” Sid was irate.

Nancy sat up. “Why are you screaming? We’re just having some harmless fun.”

“You call this fun?!” Sid said, loud enough for a couple of the hosts to approach their area. “Is that why you brought me here? Were you going to indulge your little foot fetish?”

Moments later they were back in their car, riding home in deafening silence. In fact, they didn’t say a word to each other until breakfast. Sid was eating a bowl of cereal alone in the kitchen when Nancy came in to grab a glass of water.

“You know, I just wanted a little excitement,” Nancy said.

“Where did you even find that place? Or was this something you have been doing without me?”

“It was in your Jolie v. Pitt file. A link to their website.”

“You took me to some sex club listed in my client’s complaint?!”

Divorce proceedings began the following Monday.

Jackson comped Nancy to Gatherings for the rest of the year.

//

This story was written for LJ Idol X using the prompt: Heel turn.

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