Scandal at Pennsylvania Avenus

Hilary

I've always worn my hair short. It was the same pixie cut with the front bangs and the highlights. But today, I fastened on extensions so that the waves cascaded around my face like it had never done before. I wanted the false eyelashes and the scarlet lipstick to blend into me, making me not just Hilary but a woman who demanded to be loved.

"You look beautiful," Bill said to me as he threw his tuxedo on the ground. I smiled. That was what you gave your partner of so many years, wasn't it? A smile, a kiss, every inch of your body. Some women give the men they love their souls but I wasn't one of them.

"Thank you," I said, trying to sound grateful. "You're sure you can manage all by yourself today?"

"Of course I can, honey. You go have fun with the girls. Can I pick you up from the bar?"

"No, I'll be sober enough to walk," I said, running my hands down my dress.

The fabric spread out an inch below my butt giving me the curves I never had. I was Aphrodite and Bill; Hephaestus. We made a good couple but he was never the man the goddess in me wanted.

"Have fun," he said, planting a kiss on my lips. It was soft, gentle. It was perhaps gentler than the water in his eyes. 

"Perhaps he knows," I thought, letting the words canopy me.

There was a void inside of me and tonight it threatened to expand, swollowing everything in its midst. Unfaithfulness was common but did that make it alright? I turned over to get a glimpse of him. The blue-grey in his eyes burned through me as I turned away to the arms of another.

Bill

Hilary looked more beautiful than ever before. There was a sort of happiness that shone in her that no other woman could have. I often wondered where it came from. Maybe it was because I brought her coffee this morning or made love to her in our gazebo. Or perhaps it was the way I kissed her goodbye before she went out for a girl's night.

I was one of the luckiest men in the world to share my life with her. That just made sharing my heart with Monica a betrayal that seeped into me.

Hilary never had Monica's curves or a smile that spelled seduction. But there was something so vulnerable in her that made me want to stop this facade and get down on my knees, begging to be forgiven. I didn't want to be with Monica while Hilary wore my ring. Yet, some feelings could not be ignored.

Monica came, satisfied me and left to get ready for next days work. And all I could do was curl up onto our king bed and shiver as the waves of remorse hit me. This was where Hilary first made love to me. This was where she popped champagne. I remember the pop and the crystalized liquid that scattered on her face as she laughed. I remembered the tiger's eye ring I slid on her finger. She looked like a goddess that day and I knew I ought t dedicate my life to worshipping her. But while Hilary was divine, Monica was the addiction that made me mortal.

The thought of pain in Hilary's eyes made me weep with unconcealed agony. I was betraying her. I didn't want to but there was something in me that told me I had to. And was that alright?

Hilary

The sparkling, black dress that adorned me lay on the floor. It was half concealed in what was a large black coat. As I gazed at it, my body entangled itself in his.

"Do you think this will last?" Donald asked as his fingers went through my hair. His touch strenghtened me, unlike Bill's which sometimes put me to sleep.

I wanted Donald to touch me, to hold me, but Bill's eyes were all I could picture. I loved him so long ago. Where was that love? Did it turn into the guilt that pursued me ever since I laid eyes on Donald? Or was it a fire that died too soon?

Minutes later, I put on the dress and walked away. Pennsylvania avenue crept in silence. Good. A dark, quiet street didn't have a thousand eyes that watched you. Nobody would question my smudged lipstick or the scent of Old Spice that refused to go away. They wouldn't even know that I had tears in my eyes.

I had to sneak into the bathroom and wash this mess off me before Bill noticed. I knew it wouldn't be totally possible. Even if I scrubbed myself a thousand times the mess would only find its way deep within me. It was a sneaky, betraying mess.

Bill

I heard the high-heeled footsteps as I got rid of the last remnants of Chanel number five. It was the kind of perfume that Hilary would never have worn.

"Hey, how was your night out?" I asked as she came inside. Her hair was ruffled and there was a sort of glow which graced her. She wasn't just stunning; she was hot.

"It was alright."

"Did you have fun with the girls?" I asked, still picturing the look Monica would give me as I fumbled with Hilary's blouse. "How are Michelle, Laura and Barbara?"

"Oh they were great," she said, biting her lip. And that was when I kissed her. She tasted sweet and as I bent over to kiss her hair, there it was lingering behind her. It was a sickening stench that seemed to lounge in the bedroom, the living room and perhaps in the whole of Pennsylvania avenue itself.

"Is that Old Spice?"I asked, sniffing the air.

"Oh yes," she said. "Laura brought George's perfume and started spraying it around. Unfortunately, most of it landed on me."

I stared at her. I knew Laura's husband, George. He and I worked in the same office. There was no way he'd ever wear something so ghastly.

"Bill, whats wrong?" Hilary asked but I shook my head.

Speach abandoned me as I thought of the smell and the man who wore it. Donald. I pictured his fair hair and tanned skin and his look. It was a look that claimed everything he saw. Then it hit me. Betrayal was a dangerous game but both of us were ready to play.