The Zombies Of Lake Woebegotten Read Online Free PDF Page A

feathery puffs on top and lacy ribboned skimpy underwear that didn’t leave much to the imagination, which was okay though, because Dolph had never had much of an imagination anyway.
    “You like it?” Eileen said, with that little half-smile she always had when she was showing off something new. “Got it off the internet.”
    “It’s a heckuva deal if you ask me,” Dolph said, sweeping the files off his couch while simultaneously dropping his pants.
    “You old sweet talker,” she said, and he pulled her over to him.  
    Fifteen minutes wasn’t ever long enough, but then again, it did get the job done.
    After they were finished and dressed again and sitting on the couch instead of doing other things, Dolph poured her a cup of coffee from the thermos on his desk and had one for himself, and looked at her silently for a while. Eileen was just a hair past forty, both the kids she’d had recently off to college, husband obsessed with restoring the vintage Mustang in his garage (though you’d think he’d get sick of cars, what with running a dealership all day), and she’d been visiting Dolph for the past six months or so, every week, usually wearing something new. She might not be one of those magazine fashion models or Girls Gone Wild like you saw on the late night TV, but she had a sweet pretty face and nice full hips and a good set of curves on her. He said, “How your husband can spend all his time tinkering in the garage when he’s got you in the house, I don’t know.”
    She sipped her coffee demurely, which always impressed him, since she wasn’t so demure, other times. “He hasn’t touched me in months, and when he does, he doesn’t like the lights on. He’s ashamed of his belly, I think, like I expect him to look the same as he did when he was playing high school football, like time doesn’t march on over all of us.” She shrugged. “This is more fun. Like playing dress up. Sure gives me something to look forward to every week, better than the Lutheran Women’s Circle. But how do you feel about it? You know—adultery?”
    “Technically speaking I don’t believe it’s adultery for me. I’m not married, after all. I’m committing some other kind of sin, no doubt, but not that one.”
    Eileen shook her head. “I like to know what I’m up to. I looked it up. Minnesota law says, ‘when a married woman has sexual intercourse with a man other than her husband, whether married or not, both are guilty of adultery.’ Both. That’s you too. Burns me up that it doesn’t say anything about a husband doing it though. So as long at Brent sleeps with some unmarried girl, that’s okay?” She paused. “Not that I think he would. He’s only got eyes for that Mustang he’s been rebuilding.”
    Dolph shifted a little on the couch. He was an adulterer? He’d always figured, since he wasn’t actually breaking any vows, he was in the clear, and the bulk of the burden of sin was sitting squarely on Eileen. “You should probably do your shopping,” he said. “Clem’ll be back soon, don’t want him to suspect anything.”
    Eileen rolled her eyes. “That boy’s dim, just like his whole family. We could do the naked watusi in the produce section and he wouldn’t figure anything out. But I do need to pick up a few things.” She leaned over, pecked his cheek, and gave his crotch a friendly squeeze, making him jump. He waited a few moments for things in his loin area to subside before rising himself, and found her filling a basket from his tiny fancy-food half-shelf, with the stuffed grape leaves and truffle-infused olive oil and Belgian chocolates and other such things that he’d finally started carrying at the insistence of some of the summer people. Eileen was the only local who ever bought them, and she didn’t buy them, exactly, since their arrangement had evolved to the point where she got to walk out the door with two big free grocery sacks full of whatever she could carry after one of their