Adultery When We Were Married by DanielQSteele1

[Ramesh_Rocky]

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2005 3 P.M.

I sat in my chair behind my desk and thought bad thoughts. Wilbur Bell had made it through the immediate crisis, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He could still die and the moment he did Barry Macon would start pushing for a speedy trial to keep us from digging up any other proof we could use against Sutton. Not that I had any idea what possible other evidence we could dig up at this late date.

The phone beeped. Cheryl told me, “You have a visitor.” “Is it who I think it is.”

“Yes.”

“Would you remind her that we’re divorced.” I could hear her from outside my office.

“Would you remind Mr. Maitland, whose ego is swelling beyond all belief since he’s lost a little weight, that every woman, particularly every official with the Public Defender’s Office, doesn’t come up to his office out of uncontrollable lust for his body.”
I just grunted. Why the hell did she have to become more like the girl I’d first fallen in LIKE with AFTER we were divorced. If she would just remain a bitch the rules would be clearer.
“Johnny August would just file a complaint with the Big Man if I refuse to see her, so send her in.”
She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. She was dressed in green and white, crisp and trim. She was obviously still hitting the gym religiously. The dress was cut high enough to show off her legs without appearing too slutty. I knew she was still seeing the writer, Clint Abbott, and I wondered who else she was seeing. Looking like this, there had to be someone.
“So what is so urgent from the PD’s office?” “Nothing. I lied.”
I just stared at her.
“Oh, get a grip on yourself, Bill. I didn’t come here to seduce you. I just wanted to see you packing.”
She smiled and I couldn’t help remembering the first time we’d met, all those years ago. She had the same smile.
“I heard through the gbangvine that you took my advice and got yourself armed, a shoulder holster and all. I just never thought of you as a pistol-packing prosecutor and I wanted to see what you looked like.”


Very slowly and deliberately I opened the jacket I wore and let her see the Glock in its shoulder holster. I’d received a little instruction in the easiest way to reach in with my right hand and slip it out quickly.
“Don’t get fancy,” my instructor had said. “Get it out, hold it in a two-handed grip, point it in the direction of your target and start squeezing the trigger. The Glock is a fairly rapid fire handgun. You might get all 10 rounds off in a few seconds. Throw as much lead as you can in the direction of the target.
“Don’t get fancy, don’t worry if you miss with some. Don’t pull it unless you’re in fear of your life and then do your best to kill the bastard.”
“Wow,” she said, grinning that same sexy grin I remembered as well as the smile. “It’s true what they say. A guy with a big rod is really sexy.”
Even as she said it she realized what she’d said and the grin froze. My thoughts probably showed on my face as well.
“I am so damned sorry, Bill...so sorry. We can’t even joke around anymore, can we? You know I didn’t mean. ”
“I know, Debbie. Someday we’re going to have to get over tip toeing around. our history. Someday, But anyway, thank you.”
“Thank you?”
“I’m carrying this Glock because of your warning, which was echoed by other people. I hope I don’t need it, but if I do, I’ll have it because of you.
“I hope you don’t need it either, Bill. But. I’m glad you have it.”
She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She turned around and I remembered once again that she was as nice to look at going as she was coming. I must be getting better, because I suddenly wondered what Heather MacDonald or Meagan Whitcomb or even Myra might be doing this weekend.
Debbie might have broken my heart and Aline might have crushed up what few little pieces were still intact, but at least my manhood had been restored. If Debbie could make me horny again, there was still hope for me.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2005 - 3:45 P.M.

As she had walked into her office three doors down from Johnny August she noticed Patrick Leary bending over Annette Nettles’ desk, whispering something into her ear. The red-headed PD – who was usually blonde but appeared more natural with red hair - giggled at something and Debbie could have sworn she reached out to stroke Leary’s crotch.
It was only a second and she could have been mistaken, but she was certain of what she had seen, which wouldn’t be a problem except that Annette was married to a DEA agent and she had heard some hair raising stories about his exploits in the never-never land between law and disorder that was the DEA. He was a dangerous man by all accounts.


And Leary happened to be the best attorney on the staff, second only possibly to Johnny August. She decided she’d have to keep her eyes open and possibly have an informal chat with both Leary and Nettles. While it wasn’t on her list of official duties, keeping your best litigator from being shot by a jealous husband was somewhere in there.
Thinking about jealous husbands, she kicked herself again mentally. It was as if some dark part of her unconscious kept pushing her to say the things that would hurt Bill the most. She really hadn’t meant the crack about “big rods” but she’d known the minute it left her lips what it meant to him and she’d seen it on his face.
Why in the hell didn’t all men come with a one-size dick. It would make things so much more simple. Bill could have handled her falling for a taller, younger, flat-stomached stud more easily than the fact that Doug had a bigger dick. It was something that hit men where they lived, pun intended, and women had to walk gently around comparisons of dick size.
Of course she knew a lot of the damage she had inflicted, deliberately, in hot blood. It didn’t make it any better because she was furious with him for known and unknown reasons. It still had left scars that she knew went back twenty years to when they had first met. He had always been insecure about his size, and like a miserable bitch, she had aimed her verbal blows at his Achilles heel.
But it didn’t do any good to keep kicking herself for what was done. If she could just watch her mouth in the future for similar gaffes, they might one day get to the point where they were just a man and woman who were once married and were still co-parents.
At least, at least she thought with some satisfaction, he had gotten to the point where he could look at her lustfully again. She knew that look and he had been stripping her with his eyes. It had been six months since he could look at her just as a man and not a hurt husband. It was progress.
Leary stepped into her office, grinning like a little boy who had just gotten away with something. Despite herself she felt a tingle where she didn’t want to feel a tingle. Damn, she had promised Johnny August to keep her legs together, and she knew he and Bill were friends, and she was getting regular sex from Clint, but still....
“Just wanted to pass on a little bit of knowledge, Ms. Bascomb.”
Bill had just given her that look and the Irishman was stripping her with her eyes and her nipples were getting hard and scratchy and she suddenly hoped desperately that Clint was home and free tonight.
“And that would be, Mr. Leary?”
“A friend told me Bill is going to pow-wow with the top brass at the FOP tonight at their headquarters on Atlantic.”


“He’s going to go into the lair of the enemy? Is he going alone? Does he have a bodyguard with him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, knowing Bill, because, these guys aren’t crazy. Phil Howser, the FOP head, will be there and other top guys. I don’t think Bill’s in any danger.”
“That’s probably what Custer told his top lieutenants before the party at the Little Big Horn.”
The grin faded and he said, “You really are worried about him, aren’t you?
Does he know you harbor feelings for him?”
“This whole damned office is nothing but a nest of frustrated romance writers. No, I don’t harbor feelings for him. But he was my husband for nearly 20 years. He’s the father of my children. Of course I’m worried about him. When is he supposed to go there?”
“I heard 7 or 8 p.m.”
“Okay, thanks for the information. And...” “What?”
“Nothing. Thanks.”
He stared at her tits for a moment before leaving. She decided to let the matter with Annette ride. She’d get some information before getting into that.
She knew Leary was right and Bill’s going to meet with the FOP was no big deal. Nothing would or could happen. Still....
She got out at 5 p.m., headed to her gym where she sweated for an hour and watched lithe young female bodies whose breasts hadn’t started to droop and whose asses were still perfectly firm attract the envious gazes of young and no-so-young men.
She received more than her share of lustful glances, so it wasn’t jealousy of those firm young bodies that hurt. They might be better on paper if you were scoring individual features, but she knew that one on one there wasn’t a one of these young hard bodies she couldn’t walk up to and steal a boyfriend from, without breaking a sweat. Her tits and ass still gave her the edge.
But still, it was depressing. Maybe she was more ripe, more desirable, but it was the ripeness of fruit almost ready to spoil. They had youth and she couldn’t match that. The damned clock only ran in one direction, and for her it would always be downhill.
She couldn’t shake the depression the gym visit left her with. She was alone. Both BJ and Kelly were out, BJ spending the weekend at her parents and Kelly living there full-time now. She had called and talked to Kelly the night before. It had taken time, but she was beginning to repair the breach between them. It would heal.


She grabbed a Lean Cuisine meal from the freezer and microwaved it, then ate it without tasting it. She thought about calling Clint, but for some reason even that didn’t appeal to her now.
It was Bill, she realized. Walking into a building filled with armed cops without a second glance backward. Why the hell would he do something like that when he could have met with them in his office or on neutral ground. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. For a smart man, he could be so stupid.
She looked at the clock. It was 7 p.m. He was already there or soon would be. She walked into the den and turned on the Television from Hell. She had thought about getting rid of it because every time she watched it memories of her old life would come flooding back. Bill had been like a kid at Christmas when he came home one day to find that she had purchased it and had it delivered without telling him.
They had been walking through the Orange Park Mall one day when he’d come across a display for the largest television in the world, with the most gadgets and whistles in the world of electronic entertainment. He had been entranced. Of course, he’d already turned into the world’s Number One couch potato.
Their marriage had been dying, but there were times when flashes of the old feeling she’d had for him hit her hard, and it had that day. Maybe it was a way of atoning for the things she had already done to betray him, but she had loved the look on his face when he walked into the den.
Thinking about those days, she watched the television without watching it and at 7:30 she suddenly turned it off with the remote, grabbed her purse and keys and walked into the garage. She got into her 2004 Nissan 350Z, opened the garage door, and pulled out.
She’d just sit outside the FOP Union Hall and listen to her PD security officer scanner with channels the public didn’t have access to - just sit outside and never even let Bill know she had been there. It made no sense, but she couldn’t sit at home tonight.