Tony got up from the hotel bed and yawned as he pulled his Dolce and Gabbana jeans from the desk chair.
“Seriously, Helen, do you know that you sound like a pig when we’re sleeping together?”
Helen tried to laugh off his latest jibe at her lovemaking. “I can’t help myself, it’s in the genes.”
“What does snoring have to do with denim?” Tony said. He snatched his silk underwear and shirt from a neat pile of clothes on the dresser and headed to the bathroom.
Tony and Helen had been together only six months. His family owned a large pig farm near Geneseo. You might say they were filthy rich. Her parents leased farm land from his family.
She sat in silence for several minutes on her side of the bed while he finished getting dressed in the bathroom. When he unlocked the door Helen called out, “Can we just talk?”
“What’s there to talk about?”
Tony shoved the door against the wall and faced Helen from across the room. He tugged at strands of his perfectly coiffed hair as he looked past her.
“I thought it was kind of cute at first. Pig farmer. Sounding like a pig. But damn, you sure could cook.”
“Are we talking about food or sex?”
“Well, you always said that good food was kind of like foreplay.”
“I’m feeling like I’ve just been your plaything all this time.”
“You didn’t seem to mind when we were having sex.”
“I’m not your plaything. You can take your fucking money and pigs and shove it if that’s how you really feel about me.”
“Shove them,” he said, correcting her grammar.
Helen tried to make eye contact with Tony but he laughed and shook his head. A harsh laugh. He walked toward the room door.
“So you’re leaving just like that? How do I get home?”
“Better get used to it, pig girl, I’m outta here.”
“Don’t let the hotel door slam your cute ass on the way out,” she called out.
Helen watched Tony drive off in his silver Lamborghini. Her clothes sat in a neat pile on the desk.
“You’re the real pig,” she shouted through the open doorway.