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Earnie's Obsession
by Don Drewniak

Ernie Lapinski had a problem. More properly, he had a slew of problems. One of them had become an obsession that ultimately cost him his marriage. During his sophomore year in college, he walked into his dorm room and found his roommate in bed with his (the roommate’s) girlfriend and her sister. Ernie froze for ten, perhaps fifteen, seconds before backing out of the room.

The image of the threesome came to haunt him.

Time passed. He married a year after graduating. The marriage did nothing to erase the image. It remained with him day and night, especially when sexually engaged with Margaret, his wife. He dared not broach the subject with her as she was quite conservative.

By mutual agreement, they fortunately decided against having children. Five more years passed. Ernie was twenty-eight, and it was then that his obsession was exposed. He had gone on a weekend fishing trip with two male co-workers. Margaret, as she did once every week, went into his closet to pick up dirty clothing that he had a habit of tossing onto the floor. While gathering the clothing, she knocked over two cardboard boxes that had been stacked on top of a third box.

“What is that?” Margaret mused as she saw a black handle protruding from behind the floor-bound box. She grabbed the handle of what was a briefcase she had never previously seen. “Hmm.”

It was unlocked. Curious as to the contents, she opened it. There were over three dozen sketches on plain white paper. Most were landscapes, one of their apartment building and one of her — nude. “What the hell?” she blurted out.

Margaret knew her husband was capable of quality sketching as he worked as a graphic designer.

But why the secrecy? Why the one of me?

She brought the briefcase and the sketches into the kitchen and arranged them on the kitchen table. Minutes later she placed her hand into one of the two flaps inside the cover of the briefcase. More sheets of paper.

A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over her as she looked at the first of six sketches. Three naked bodies on a bed — Ernie, her, and one of her sisters. The other five depicted the three of them in positions that caused her to momentarily pass out. Upon regaining consciousness, her shock and revulsion turned to fury.

With the help of a female friend, she rented a U-Haul truck and cleaned out all of her possessions. After taking photographs of all six threesome sketches, she left five on the table and kept the sixth, the one she considered to be the most vile.

“Hello, Mom, I’m coming home.”

Divorce was settled out of court four months later with Margaret getting the lion’s share of everything they possessed, including their one vehicle.

Fast forward: Ernie was depressed. He was pushing thirty and it was one year to the day from when his wife discovered his sketches.

“Here I am alone on a Saturday night watching crap on television,” he thought. “Might as well go out and get drunk. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky.”

He headed out to a nearby bar and was working on a third drink when he noticed a hot-looking (or what he visualized as being hot-looking in his semi-inebriated state) mature woman sitting alone at a corner table. She also appeared to be well on her way to getting intoxicated.

Must be in her late fifties or maybe early sixties, but damn she looks hot. Why not?

It crossed his mind that she just might have a hot-looking sister. His obsession, fueled by the alcohol, had increased in intensity and irrationality.

Ernie walked over to her table and asked if he could join her. To his delight, she said yes. They chatted while having two more drinks each. She admitted to being sixty-one.

But a hot sixty-one.

They were in a taxi shortly thereafter en route to her house. With the alcohol having totally loosened his tongue, he told her about his threesome fantasies.

“Oh,” she whispered while snuggling up against him and kissing his left ear, “That is a great idea!”

Ernie was ecstatic. He paid the driver as the taxi pulled up to the front of her house.

As soon as they passed through the front door, she called out, “Mom, are you still awake?”