Girl Talk

"I don't know what those idiot husbands of ours see in golf, when they've got four horny wives at home."

That was Linda, Paul's wife, sitting in her chaise lounger as we gossiped around her pool. We were the Beatle wives, as our husbands were named John, Paul, George and Richard, laughably enough that we were all calling Richard Ringo. George's last name actually was Harrison, and Paul was married to Linda, so we had a good old time of it.

At least my name ain't Yoko!

But, it was Saturday, a little after noon, and the Beatles were out doing what they always do on decent Saturdays, they were out at Tates Creek Country Club, playing golf. Our husbands work hard all week, and you'd think that they'd want a little bit of loving from their wives on Saturday mornings, but no, they'd all rather get up - they're all attuned to getting up at six in the morning anyway, for the work week - and get together to play.

To play fucking golf! When they have business to take care of at home.

So, our Saturdays, at least during spring and summer, were frequently spent around Paul and Linda's pool, working on our tans, drinking too much wine, and commiserating about our lives.

To an outside observer, we didn't have much to bitch about. We all lived in big, luxurious houses, paid for by our husbands' law practice. They weren't just golfing buddies: they were all attorneys, and as they became friendlier and closer, what with the Beatles schtick they decided to start their own firm, and were doing quite well at it. Three of us were already living in the same neighborhood, within walking distance, when Richard and Gail decided that, heck, since the other Beatles were all living so close together, and Pete Best decided to sell his home next to ours, they'd buy that one. It was an upgrade for them as well.

None of us Beatle wives had to work, though Gail and I did, just to get out of our houses. I had my degree in accounting, and worked for a top bookkeeping and financial services company - though I'm not a CPA - and made decent money myself, though not anywhere close to what John brought home.

"Maybe they just don't realize what they've got at home," I said. "Heck, those four spend so much time together, they might as well all turn gay and marry each other."

"Ughh! Now you've put a picture in my mind of Ringo sucking Paul's dick, and it ain't pretty!" We all laughed out loud at that one.

"What, you think they're all out on the course, playing with each other's golf balls?" I had to tease out that one, and more laughter ensued, followed by more wine being quaffed.

"Think Richard would even care if he knew that a guy made a huge pass at me yesterday?" That was Gail.

"Really? What happened?" Of course, Gail had all of our attention!

"Cheryl and I were on lunch break, at Alfalfa's, yesterday, and these two guys came in. Turned out they were both police officers, working out of the downtown station, and taking their lunch breaks as well. They were both tall and really dreamy, and I guess they spotted Cheryl checking them out, because instead of waiting for the hostess to seat them, one of them ribbed the other, and they just walked over to our table, cocky as could be, and sat down. This one, his name was Bill, decided that he was my lunch date, while the other guy, can't remember what he said his name was, took up with Cheryl. They just started up, talking like they really were our dates, flirting confidently, like they'd pulled this stunt before.

"And they were good at it, too. Bill, he was tall, good looking, rocking really short hair, you know, that kind of military haircut a lot of police officers get, and in really good shape. The guy hitting on Cheryl was a bit shorter, but just as hot, really handsome, broad shouldered. You could tell: they both hitting on us, and fully expected to be getting into our pants."

"Well, did they?" That was Linda.

"Obviously they couldn't, not right then, because we both had to get back to the office. But they made sure that we had their numbers, and told us to call them after we got off work."

"Did you tell this guy that you were married?"

"I did more than just tell him, but put up my left hand, showing him my wedding set. All he did was smile, and then he took my hand and kissed it. He was so fucking suave, and he didn't care one bit that I'm married."

"He married?"

"Well, he wasn't wearing a ring, anyway, but I didn't ask him and he never said one way or the other."

"So, did you call him?"

"No, of course not, I'm married! Richard's a good husband; why would I want to fuck that up?"

"Why would that fuck up your marriage?" Linda again. "You have some extra fun, and don't let Ringo know about it." All of us called Gail's husband Ringo, but she never did.

"Oh, come on, Linda, how can you keep something like that a secret? Why would I want to cheat on Richard?"

"Hey, why are we all sitting around the pool, drinking, while the Beatles are out playing golf on a perfect day to get laid?"

"Linda, I just can't do that! Richard would be devastated if he ever found out."

"Listen, sweetie, it's not like you'd be somehow taking something away from your husband. If he isn't around to screw you, there's nothing wrong with you giving it up to some hot stud who wants it."

"What the Hell do you mean by that?"

"Listen, Gail, pussy just doesn't wear out! As long as you aren't bringing home sloppy seconds, Ringo would never know if you fucked some other guy. If Ringo fucks you a thousand times, your pussy won't be any different if some other stud gets you a dozen."

We were all just looking at Linda, flabbergasted. "What the Hell, Linda? You know how men are, they'd think you'd stolen something from them, besmirched their honor or something."

"Oh, yeah, sure, that's what they think, 'cause men are fucking stupid. They're like dogs, thinking that they've marked their territory. You know, the way when I walk my dog, he's constantly sniffing, trying to see if other dogs have been there, and then peeing wherever he catches another dog's scent. That's what men are like, and they get all horribly offended if some other man fucks their pussy, even though it doesn't make the pussy any different for them. Dick, now that wears out, but pussy doesn't."

"Shit, Linda, that's crazy! Ringo would think that Gail disrespected him, had dishonored him. You know that he'd divorce her if she screwed this cop on the side."

"Well, yeah, he might, 'cause, like I said, men are stupid. Sure, if she cut her husband off so that she could fuck Bill, or whatever his name was, that's one thing, but if she never denied Ringo anything, what's he losing, huh? Men are just so fucking worried that if you have a little fun on the side, that means that the other guy is better than him.

"Hell, that's why guys call it 'scoring,' because it's like a sport to them, that they have to play defense, you know, and that if they don't pitch a shut-out, it doesn't matter how many times they've 'scored' themselves, they've still been beaten. And if they manage to get some married stuff on the side, then they've somehow 'beaten' the other husband, cucked him I guess it's called. They can fuck a married girl one time, while her husband screws her ten thousand, but they've still won, you know, that's how they think.

"I mean, none of us were virgins when we met our husbands, and none of them were as pure as the driven snow, but that's OK, they can handle that, as long as they were the last ones to get in our pants. But let just one other guy get in our pants, just one time, and they're all bent out of shape."

I just sat there, stunned, thinking about what Linda had said. I guess it was true, that it didn't really hurt a husband if his wife had a little extracurricular fun, as long as she wasn't denying him anything. Of course, she had to keep from getting knocked up, and have her side guy wear a rubber, because she couldn't bring home any nasty surprises. But I wasn't in Gail's situation; there wasn't some cop out there trying to get into my pants!

"Man, that sun has gotten me all hot and sweaty," Gail said, as she got up and dove into the pool.