Adultery Separate Vacations by DanielQSteele1

[Ramesh_Rocky]

                                                               


                                                                               Story :- Separate Vacations
 

Written by DanielQSteele1

Note :- " this is one good story i read from other site all credit goes  to original author DanielQSteele1 "

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Most of the times the bad things that are coming your way aren't really surprises. Oh, you can tell yourself that you were caught off guard, but if you look back, you can almost always realize there were signs, indications of something bad heading your way. You just didn't want to realize it -- or deal with it.

Tiffany and I -- I'm Bruce Davis -- had been married for 9 years when this story occurred, back in 2006. I'd like to say they were perfect years of marital contentment as we raised our two daughters, who were six and eight at the time that our marriage crashed and burned.
But they weren't. Like most real marriages, we had our ups and downs.
We had gotten married in a perfect storm of lust and young love just after graduating from the University of Florida. We'd met at a fraternity party. I was the frat boy and she the sorority hottie. She likes to tell everybody we dated for two weeks before anything happened. But really....
##########################
We had found an empty room upstairs. It was covered in coats and wraps and other crap, but it was empty. I pushed her in ahead of me and enjoyed the view of her tight ass in a skintight pair of shorts twitching ahead of me. When she turned to face me twin apples caught in a blue pullover attracted my eyes and hands.
"Did I say you could do that?" when she came up for breath after another record breaking kiss.
"Are you saying I can't?"
"I didn't say that. But you're moving awfully fast. I just met you an hour ago. You're going to think I'm the sluttiest tramp in the world."
"Oh, God, I hope so," I said as I caught both nipples in my hands and squeezed. She closed her eyes and moaned until I filled her mouth with my tongue again. We went over on the bed and I couldn't believe her small hand was already molded to my cock which was throbbing with every beat of my heart.
She pulled back so she could look me in the eye.
"I shouldn't do this, Bruce. God knows I want to. I don't know why. I haven't been able to take my eyes off you since I saw you. Do you believe in love at first sight?"
I'm not a total idiot so of course I said, "Yes," but then my conscience got to me.
"I don't know, Tiffany. It's an easy line for a guy to say, but all I can honestly tell you is that I haven't been able to take my eyes off you. Normally I'd be staring at Delores' tits, but I can't even tell you what she was wearing tonight."
She looked down at the nipples popping out through the pullover.
"She is so much bigger than me. I really don't have that much up top. Are you sure you wouldn't rather be-"
I bent down and bit her right nipple through her fabric and told her honestly, "Right now there isn't anyplace else in the world I'd rather be."
That went double fifteen minutes later when my exploding cock was nestled deep inside her pussy which seemed to be running at 135 degrees Fahrenheit. I'd had to work for five minutes to get it in there.
She wasn't the tightest pussy in the world, but she had to be right up there in the top 15 or 20. She told me later she wasn't a virgin when we did it, but Jesus, her two lovers must have had cigarette-sized dicks.
I thought she was having a fit when I told her I was getting ready to come into my condom, but it just turned out that when she was excited she had very, very intense orgasms. Like eyes-rolling, fingernails embedded in my flesh, teeth buried in my lower lips -- orgasms.
I think I really fell in love with her when she went down, pulled my condom off, and started to lick my dick clean. She said she'd never done anything that dirty with her other boyfriends, but she wanted to do it with me. And she liked it.
#########################
We dated for two years until I graduated with a degree in English literature and she with a degree in Business Administration. That should have given me a good heads up that this would not be a marriage made in heaven.
I liked books and movies and writing and game playing. She was a by-the-numbers business type that loved working deals, figuring how to make money and planning what to do with the money when she got it.
Her mother hated me, which I should have expected. But her mother was a head case. She had married a good looking, big dicked salesman type out of college and suffered through ten years of his screwing every pussy that he got within reach of until one day he walked in and told her he was leaving her and eight-year-old Tiffany because he had found the love of his life: a cocktail waitress working at a bar in Orlando.
He left Tiffany's mother with a mortgage-laden house, a car that lasted two months before making its way to the junkyard, two strains of sexual diseases, a $5,000 Visa card debt, $20,000 in other assorted debts, and a broken heart.
She had bounced around until she found -- eventually -- a position as a secretary which led to a paralegal position at Martin, Devon, Bailey and Bartley in Jacksonville. The lawyers there liked her --so much so that the word I heard was that before she'd been there two years she'd fucked every attorney, aide, investigator and even a few delivery guys.
I guess after having been saddled with an asshole who really didn't appreciate her pussy for a decade, finding a whole building full of men who really, really did appreciate her tits and ass did wonders for her ego and temperament. She really wasn't a bad looking woman.
But while she fucked and sucked with great abandon, she trusted no one who had their sex organs on the outside of their body. And she'd raised Tiffany to hold the same opinions.
Sex was fine. Love was fine. But you keep your own bank account, you have your own money, you keep it so you can walk away at any time and survive on your own without the prick who'd been giving you his prick.
I picked up on the lack of trust early on in our dating life, but I understood where her mother was coming from and tried to reassure her that I was a different kind of man. I would never leave Tiffany in the lurch.
Didn't matter. Especially when after graduating I decided teaching was not what I wanted to do. I wanted to write. The Great American Novel no less. And I needed time and freedom to do that.
So I found myself working at a Blockbuster store in Orange Park, Florida, a little bedroom community south of Jacksonville where both Tiffany and I had grown up.
Tiffany, of course, went to work in a real estate development firm that built some of the highest dollar combination golf/country club/yachting properties on the Northeast Florida coast.
Through the years she advanced from a junior associate to one of the highest paid people who wasn't an owner. She handled sales, public relations, government relations, investor relations -- relations in general.
Old, old, old story. I was still working in a Blockbuster, albeit working my way up to store manager by choice and a regional troubleshooter when hell broke out at any of the Blockbusters within a 50 mile radius of Jacksonville.
I had tried to write the Great American Novel nine times. I'd actually finished it once and was up to 123 rejects. I was beginning to be a little dejected.
Tiffany was pulling down ten times my monthly salary, in salary alone not even mentioning stock options and other perks, driving a brand new 2006 Lexus, wearing clothes that you had to fly to Atlanta or New York to buy.
Despite that, I paid the home mortgage, which alone wiped out 60 percent of my monthly income. I paid the electric, the telephone bill, satellite, etc.
Tiffany kindly paid for the gas for every vehicle that she drove, not my 1994 Volkswagen Beetle which was big enough only for me and one passenger so every family trip was made in one of her vehicles -- either the Lexus or her personal Land Rover new Range Rover Sport SUV or a company one she had whenever she wanted it.
Why did we live that way?
Because there was no money that was 'ours.' Her income and her savings were hers. Always had been from the time we married. We had separate checking and savings accounts. One of the biggest fights we ever had, one that almost wrecked us in the first six months of our marriage, was her insistence that I NOT be on her bank accounts.
We almost didn't' get married at all when her mother had one of her asshole boyfriend lawyers draw up a pre-nup that said I couldn't' touch any money she brought into the marriage or made while we were married, but that my income would be joint. Of course, a guppy would have starved on my income, but I drew the line on that. No pre-nups And after a few months the subject just went away.
But she wouldn't yield on separate monies for the two of us. And that enraged me.
"You don't trust me? You don't fucking trust me? You think I will steal your goddamned money, you miserable bitch."
I had been a little upset when she explained to me that I would NEVER be on a joint account with her. Common bills like the house and utilities were my responsibility as husband. Clothing, food, trips, entertainment, the kids' education, all the extras were hers. But her money was hers. She would never try to get on my accounts.
It still upset me.
"Okay you miserable bitch. I tried. I tried. I honestly tried to live with your crazy ass ideas and your crazy ass mother. I bent over backwards until I broke my back. But this is the end. Go fuck yourself, or better yet go to Martin, Devon, Bailey and Bartley and I'm sure you'll find plenty of hard dicks to fuck you. Your mom will probably share, like the true slut she is."
I barely managed to avoid having my brains smashed by a piece of wedding china from one of her mom's rich lawyer boyfriends as I stalked out. She followed me out cursing a blue streak and doing her best to send me to the ER using more china.
I was sorely tempted to go back, but I'd never touched her in anger and even while she was royally pissing me off, the trouble was that I still loved her crazy ass.
We held out a week. We met at a neutral bar, made some hurtful comments to each other about how childish the other was, and barely made it my car before I was inside her and she was bruising my lips and trying to pull my cock out by the roots with her cunt. We took makeup sex to ridiculous new levels.
But I couldn't break her insistence that our money be kept separate. Her money was hers. Always would be.
I could see us old and gray together. I'd barely have enough money to buy some gruel for my morning breakfast in the servants quarters outside the big house where Tiffany lived with her mother and our children.
So I pinched pennies and the only new clothes I could afford were those that Tiffany bought for me when I had to attend one of her business functions and she didn't want to be embarrassed by my cheap, old clothing.
You ask, why the hell did I stick around? I was working my ass off, watching my pennies while my wife had a net worth of well over a million dollars. Actually between two and three million.
You didn't hold her in your arms, your dick inside her furnace of a pussy while she screamed at you to fill her up with your seed....actually she said hot cum.
You didn't hold her on the nights after a visit with her mother, or on Father's Day, when she buried her head against your chest and her tears couldn't be stopped while she tried to heal the wound her fucking poor excuse of a father had left in her heart.
She didn't smile at you in the dunes at St. Augustine Beach as she hit you in the face with a chunk of ice cream and ran shouting at your daughters to get away before the ice cream monster caught them all. She didn't cover your face with kisses when you brought her down in the dunes and your little daughters piled on you to rescue their mother from the ice cream monster.
That is a little of what we had. It wasn't perfect. Far from it. And I think I knew deep down that someday it would all come crashing down on my head.
We didn't have a marriage in the sense that my mother and father, before he died, would have recognized. We lived together and had a relationship and had kids, but it wasn't permanent. It never could be. And I wondered sometimes if deep down Tiffany knew that.
We had a good marriage, in a lot of ways, except that it wasn't a marriage.
The world crashed down on my head in June of 2006.
Kaitlyn and Kristen ran into the house where I was seated in my office working on my tenth Great American Novel. Tiffany had picked them up from her mother's house and was walking in behind them.
"Daddy, daddy, I'm going to go surfing with Uncle Stephen."
Eight-year-old Kaitlyn ran up to me and hugged me saying, "And I'm going to learn how to dance the hula. Grandma told me she'd take me to a college on the Big Island where they teach you. We'll be there for a month, so we'll have plenty of time to learn."
"Oh," I said, wondering what I'd missed out on. "That sounds like fun. Where are we going?"
"Oh, we're going to Hawaii," Kaitlyn said. "I wish you could go too."
"What?"
"Mommy said you had to work. I wish you could get off and come with us. Mommy is going to be lonely without you there."
I looked up at Tiffany and just stared at her but she wouldn't drop her eyes. She wasn't going to be embarrassed.
"So we -- that is you and the girls -- are going to Hawaii for a month and I'm staying home to work, dear. Do I understand? When did all this come up?"
"Several members of the firm booked a hotel on Oahu and have planned a month worth of activities. We've had a great year and the owners are coming along and helping with the expenses. The girls are out of college and Mom was able to get away from the law firm."
"And Uncle Stephen? Would that be Stephen Middleton?"
She just stared back at me.
"Yes. He decided to take his vacation with us. Us all."
"Adjoining rooms? Is he staying in your hotel?"
"The same hotel. Yes. We're all staying there. Not adjoining rooms. Try to behave like an adult. It's a group vacation."
"Which I'm not a member of?"
"The firm is paying a lot of the expenses, but they're not made of money. They're not paying for spouses. Anybody who wants a spouse has to come up with the money to cover them."
I leaned back in my swivel chair and told the girls, "Go play. Mommy and I have to talk for a minute. Give me a kiss."
They did and when they'd left I said, "Well how much will we have to come up with? And it would have been nice if you'd given me some heads up. I don't know how I'll be able to free up a month away from work."
She kept staring at me with an unreadable expression. Looking back, I hope it was guilt.
"I don't think you'll have to worry about that. I expect you'll be staying here."
I couldn't believe what I'd just heard.
"You don't think I'll be going?"
She sat down on the edge of my desk and looked down at me. Her hair was cut short and she wore a scoop neck blouse and a blue dress that showed off her fantastic legs.
"I had the costs expensed out. It would cost $8,000 for you to come with us. Can you afford that?"
I said the words out loud to make sure I hadn't completely lost it.
"You're saying I can't go unless I come up with $8,000 of MY money to pay for the trip?"
"It's really only fair, Bruce. This is partially business and partially personal. You know the rules we've set up. You should be responsible for your share of the costs."
"I thought that YOUR money was for entertainment, family outings and the like. This doesn't qualify?"
She finally looked down at her feet, which she was tapping gently on the tiled floor of the office.
"Bruce, this is more business than personal, except for the girls, and mother will be there for them."
"And don't forget Uncle Stephen. He'll be along to take care of the girls. Is that all he'll be taking care of?"
She glared at me.
"You jealous asshole. You know there's nothing going on with Stephen. He's just a friend. A good friend. It's nice to be able to talk business sometimes with somebody who-"
"Is your equal, Tiffany? Not a clueless loser like your husband? You enjoy his company. Have you found out if his cock is as big as the secretaries say?"
Her eyes narrowed?
"Where the hell..."
"You don't think I ever hear any of the gossip about the guy? I have been to some company outings. I've heard the woman buzzing about him. I know he's gone through most of the secretaries and he's considered hot shit by the married and unmarried women of the company. You ever checked out his equipment?"
She would have caught me across the face, but I knew her temper and I've taken karate for 15 years. I caught her hand in mid-air.
"You sorry bastard. I've never cheated on you. Although, God knows, why I haven't I couldn't tell you. You want to know why you're not going with us, Bruce? The real reason?"
"Enlighten me."
"I knew you couldn't come up with $8,000. You know that's pocket change to me. I could pay your way and never even notice it. But why should I? You're my husband. I make $300,000 a year in a bad year. You make barely $40,000.
"You're not stupid. You could have gotten a real job, with a real company. Where I wouldn't be ashamed every time somebody asks me what my husband does. A video store manager? For God's sake. I'm ashamed of you, Bruce, and I hate being ashamed of you.
"I'm going to leave your ass behind because I want to rub your nose in the fact that you've let me down, and you're letting your daughters down. I want you to develop some balls, go get a decent job and, for God's sake, let this adolescent dream of writing the Great American novel go to hell.
"The way it is now, I'm the man in this damned family. I'm the dominant one, and that's not natural."
She gave me a look and I knew something bad was coming.
"You asked me if Stephen has a dick as big as the girls say. Yeah, he does. I've seen him in a bathing suit and he is hung. God he is hung.
"There was a time last summer...on that trip to the beach you didn't take. He caught me behind the dunes. He put my hand on that monster and made me jerk him once or twice. Of course, I slapped his face and tried to dropkick his balls back into his abdomen. He didn't try again.
"But, God help me, I wanted to jerk him off. I wanted to suck him off. I wanted to spread my legs and let him spear me with it. Because I like him. And I respect him.
"He's a man. He may be an aggressive asshole, but he's a man. If I didn't love you, at least a little bit still, I would have let him take me in the dunes."
She stood up and smoothed down her skirt.
"I'm not going to fuck him this trip. I don't plan to anyway. I want you to think about that. Because if things don't change, if you don't change, there's going to come a day when he puts my hand on that monster and I won't take it away."
I stared at her and knew this day had been a long time coming. We didn't have a marriage. We had a partnership and I wasn't keeping up my end of the bargain.
I had known and sensed her waning respect for me. Even our sex wasn't as hot as it had been. How could it? How could a woman be really turned on by a man she didn't respect as a man?
I let her walk away and we didn't say another word to each other for the remainder of the day. I worked on my computer until late and she was already asleep when I entered our bedroom.
She was up before me the next morning. I found her drinking coffee at a table set on our covered back porch. The house edged some woods and there were days you could see deer from the table. There were none today. I grabbed a cup and sat down beside her.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"When?"

"Next Wednesday." Four days from now.
"This is wrong, Tiffany, and you know it. Don't do this."
She set her cup down and looked at me with sadness, but resolve.
"It's going to happen. There won't be any embarrassment. All anybody at the company knows is that you couldn't get away from work. I told them you'd probably take a week or so while we were gone and have a bachelor vacation, a chance to get away from the wife and kids. Some of the guys thought it was a great idea.
"Look, why don't you take some vacation time. You could go down to Key West, or up to the Smokies for a few days. You might like it. And...I think it might do us both some good to spend some time away from each other. Separate vacations aren't a terrible thing. A lot of couples take them nowadays."
"Do you want a divorce?"
Her eyes flared again.
"Don't threaten me, you son of a bitch. Just because I want to make you think about our life, and I want to get away from you for a little while, you are not going to try to scare me with talk about a divorce."
"I'm not threatening you. I'm just asking you a question."
"Well then, to answer your question. No. I don't want a divorce. I want some changes. I want you to demonstrate that you love me. I love you."
"And you're going to demonstrate that love by going away with a big dick wonder for a month and leaving me alone here to kill time and wonder if he's started fucking you yet."
She just sat there and finished her coffee.
I spent Sunday and part of the next few days with the girls, taking them to the Beach and to Water World and one day to Disneyworld in Orlando. I felt like I was saying goodbye to them, and maybe I was.
I spent as little time as I could with Tiffany and she found reasons to be out of the house with the girls or by herself.
We slept in the same bed but we could have been a million miles apart. She didn't offer, and I didn't ask, for any intimacy.
Tuesday and Tuesday night were spent making final preparations and Wednesday morning she got the girls up at 5 a.m. to prepare for the ride to Jacksonville International Airport where they'd catch a connecting flight from there to Los Angeles and from there on to Oahu.
Her mother had spent the night previously, without saying more than five words to me and she took the girls out after each had given me a kiss and hug and promised to call me every day.
I was sitting out at the table facing the back yard. It was still dark. She came up behind me and I sensed she was about to bend over to kiss me.
I held my hand up and she froze. I didn't look back at her.
"You still have time, Tiffany. You don't have to do this."
She stood there silently.
"I have loved you since the first moment I saw you. I wanted to grow old with you. Please don't walk out that door."
She still didn't say anything. After a long moment, she finally said, "We don't have any more time. I have to go."
She turned and I heard her heels clicking on the floor. As she reached the door to the interior of the house, I said softly, "I won't be here when you get back."
She stopped then, and I like to think she was conflicted. Then she stepped inside the house and was gone.
I sat there for a long time. Until the sun rose and beyond. Through my tears I saw two deer appear like phantoms in the pale early sunlight when the day hadn't yet decided if it was ready to make an appearance. One was small, the other a mature version. Mother and child. I don't know why, but I cried like a baby.
I felt like I had the morning my mother had called me to tell me that my father had gone to sleep the previous night and never woke up. And I remembered that I hadn't been by to see them in two weeks. I thought there would always be more time. And suddenly there wasn't.
What do you do when you realize that the biggest decision of your life was the wrong one. The woman you'd bet your life on, you'd trusted to bear your children, was not the woman you should be with.
I didn't know just who I should be with, but it wasn't the woman I had loved with every fiber of my being until a few hours before.
I looked at my watch and realized about this time they were getting ready to board their plane. I wondered if Tiffany really knew what she was giving up when she stepped on board with our daughters. Or if she even cared.
Eventually I got up and even managed to go to work because it was a regular work day. I hadn't told anyone what was happening. That night I surveyed the house. I had some belongings, but nothing that couldn't be packed into the back of a friend's pickup truck.
That night about 9:30 p.m. my cell phone rang and both my daughters told me about how exciting the flight to Los Angeles had been and how scary the long flight over the Pacific had been before they finally reached Oahu. They were already in their hotel and checking out the room's mini-bar and where the icemakers were located on their floor.
They told me they loved me and handed the phone to their mother.
"Bruce-"
I hung up on her and when the phone rang again in 30 seconds I turned it off. The house phone rang and I picked up the receiver and buried it under two pillows so I couldn't hear anything.
Then I went out to a bar called O'Brien's on the Westside of Jacksonville and knocked back a few, played some pool and tried to remember what it had felt like to be single. Now I remembered. It had felt shitty.
The next day I called a few friends who'd gone through divorces and got the names of a few attorneys. Even preliminary calls told me that I'd be flat broke before I got much of the way through their retainers.
And I realized that it didn't matter who I got. Nobody was going to have the firepower to go up against the attorneys that Tiffany could hire or her mother could sweet talk into representing her.
Then I started looking around for a cheap apartment. We were living in a $1 million home in an expensive gated community between Orange Park and Jacksonville, one which we could only afford because Tiffany had put a half million dollar cash deposit down on it. It basically belonged to her even while I sweated monthly to pay the mortgage.
I was looking for something decent, a two-bedroom, on the Westside not too far away from our home where I could see the kids, assuming Tiffany didn't screw me out of that too.
That night the cell phone rang again. I didn't want to take it, but I did want to talk to Kaitlyn and Kristen. I hit the talk button. Tiffany said, "You miserable son of a bitch. Why do you have to..."
"I don't want to talk to you, Tiffany. I thought that was clear. Could I talk to my daughters?"
"So that's the way you want it? You're going to turn this into a major fight, just like you have with every disagreement we've ever had in our marriage?"
"Can I talk to the girls?"
"No, fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you."
She must have been using a hotel phone because she managed to slam it down with a vengeance.
I didn't talk to the girls that night, or the next two nights. Sunday night the phone rang and when I picked it up Kaitlyn was on asking why I hadn't been at the house to take their calls. I told her I'd had to work late at the store, and that was a reasonable excuse because I did get called out some.
When I'd finished talking to her and her sisters, and learning how nice Uncle Stephen had been and the things he'd done with them and their mother, Tiffany came back on the phone.
"Can you just for a minute pretend to be a grownup and talk to me, Bruce? What is the point of acting like a spoiled..."
I tried to imagine what bad words she'd said after I hung up on her and hoped she was able to exert enough self control to keep them to herself in front of the girls.
I didn't hear from anybody on the island until the next Friday night. The call came from Tiffany's cell, but when I punched it on her mother, Marge, said, "So you were able to tear yourself away from your girlfriends long enough to answer a call from your wife?"
"Are the girls there, Marge?"
"Yes, but you won't hear a word from them unless you try acting like an adult. What kind of spoiled little boy won't talk to his wife because she wouldn't take him on a vacation with her -- a vacation he couldn't afford because instead of working to support his family he insists on playing with videos and pretending to be a writer?
"Because of you, you miserable failure, instead of enjoying the vacation of a lifetime with her family and co-workers and friends, she worries about what kind of crazy things you're thinking of doing while she's supposed to be having fun. You're ruining it for her, your daughters and everyone else. You should be ashamed of yourself."
"Can I talk to my daughters?"
"When you calm down and decide to start acting like a husband instead of a juvenile delinquent, we might let you talk to them. Right now I'm afraid you'll just upset them. Their mother has been so upset, they know something is going on and it's starting to upset them."
"So you and Tiffany aren't going to let me talk to my daughters?"
"No, not when you're like this."
"Okay. Tell Tiffany she can go back to fucking big-dick Stephen and you can go back to fucking a few of your married fuck buddies from that law firm.
"And by the way, I don't have any girlfriends. I'm not like that asshole skirt chaser of a husband that you couldn't keep satisfied in your bed. Have fun."
This time Marge slammed the phone down on me.
By the middle of the next week I'd found a two bedroom apartment in a not-too shabby Westside apartment complex and managed a deposit with first and last month's rent.
By that weekend I'd gotten with a couple of friends and moved my personal belongs, a chair, and a few other items and I'd set up housekeeping in my new place.
The Friday night I'd finished moving my stuff in and was sitting around drinking a few cold ones with the guys who'd helped me the cell rang and it showed Tiffany. I had started missing the girls big time and so I answered.
"Hello, Tiffany."
"Hi. Bruce..."
"Are the girls there?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept you from them this week. I know it was wrong, but you're driving me crazy."
"Can I talk to them?"
"Yes. YES. You can talk to them. They're in the other room with mom. Before I put them on, could we talk for a minute?"
"About what?"
"About you. About us. You've blown an argument up into a nuclear war. I know I hurt your feelings...not taking you with us...but it's only a vacation. Couples go away without each other all the time."
She lowered her voice and I knew she was whispering.
"Baby, I miss you. I want you so bad at night...and I can't even do anything about it because I'm always with the girls or mom."
"Or Uncle Stephen."
There was a long silence.
"I know I hurt you, but I was so damned angry at you. Stephen...did...try something in the dunes, but trust me, he walked funny for a week after that. He's not the man I want in my bed. You are. He's been flirting since we've been here, but he knows better than to put his hands on me again."
"I begged you not to go. And you walked away from me."
"Can't you understand, Bruce. We can be lovers and good and have our own independent lives. I need to have an identity away from you."
"And your own money."
"And my own money."
"Can I talk to the girls?"
"Yes, I'll get them. And we can straighten all this out when we get home. But baby, I want you well hydrated and rested when we get back because I am going to fuck you into the ground."
I didn't say anything and in a moment Kaitlyn and Kristen were on the phone. I wondered later if Tiffany knew what my silence meant.
We talked for nearly a half hour and I could only pray that Tiffany would find it in her heart to cover the bill because a half hour cross-ocean cell phone bill would probably require a bank loan on my part to get paid.
When the girls and I had finished Tiffany came on before I could hang up.
"Bruce. I love you. You know that, don't you."
I sighed and I knew somehow that this time she caught it.
"Yes, Tiffany, I know you love me."
There was a long silence and I was about to hang up when she said softly, "You're not going to tell me you love me? I don't know we're ever talked on the phone in our entire married lives that you haven't told me you loved me."
There was something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.
"Don't do this," she said softly, and I almost reminded her I'd used those same words to her and had she listened? But I didn't. There was no point in being needlessly cruel. She was going to be hurt enough in a few weeks.
"Yes, baby, I love you. I always have and I always will."
I hung up. I couldn't add, "but that's not enough anymore."
Over the next two weeks I removed everything I wanted or needed from our home and moved it to my apartment. I checked the house every day to make sure everything was running right and no one had gotten in. Burglars did hit expensive homes, even with the security provided by gated communities.
I didn't have to take my name off of any of her bank accounts of other banking instruments, but I made sure that I took all of my precious little money out of any account she had her name on. My junker car was in my name alone, as was my medical insurance and retirement accounts, although God knows she wouldn't have touched either of those.
I had divorce papers drawn up by a decent attorney who only charged me an arm and a leg to come up with the basics. Mr. Davis was seeking a divorce from Mrs. Davis on grounds of incompatibility. No alimony or division or property was sought.
I asked for joint custody of the girls, even though my attorney -- the best that little money could buy -- had been frank in telling me there was no way in hell the court was going to order that in these circumstances.
The best I could hope for, the graying, beaten down little man who had taken my $2,000 retainer told me, was maybe two weekends a month during college, alternating holidays and birthdays and maybe a month in the summer.
I already knew that would be the most painful part of what was about to happen, but Que. sera, sera.
I talked to the girls almost every night now and fortunately Marge never got on the line. They told me about the wonderful sights they'd seen, the trips to a Macadamia factory, to the black lava beaches, to Waikiki.
They told me how Uncle Stephen had gotten them surfing and how he had managed to talk Mama into going out on a long board and how they had crashed and come up sputtering but Uncle Stephen had somehow gotten her to the shore.
They told me about how they and other children in the party played at a club for little ones in the hotel while Momma and Grandma and others including Uncle Stephen went out to dinner and dancing.
And how Momma had come in laughing late one night with her lipstick smeared and told them that Uncle Stephen was just being a silly man.
It should have hurt more than it did, but I already had steeled myself to the loss of this woman and this marriage, and somehow, it didn't.
Tiffany got on the phone and almost every time closed with, "I love you and I miss you. Take your vitamins."
I made myself tell her I loved her. It wasn't hard. I did love her. I didn't know how long I'd love her, but unfortunately, I still did.
And then it was Friday again and they called to tell me they were getting on an airline to head back. They'd stop overnight in LA and then get back in Sunday about 3 p.m. Their Range Rover Sport had been kept in storage at the airport so they wouldn't need a ride.
"Why don't you get a cab to the airport so we can ride back together. The girls are missing you terribly. But not as much as I am."
I didn't say anything, except, "I'll meet you there. I'll get there about 2 p.m."
I sat in the airport waiting area where their flight was due in. I drank a hot coffee and then another. I could have used a stiff alcoholic drink. I felt nervous, jumpy jittery. I couldn't make myself sit still for long. I walked to the windows where you could watch the planes come in, back to my seat, around the waiting area.
Had I done the right thing?
This was going to tear our lives apart. My relationship with my girls was never going to be the same. No matter what happened, this was the end of the 'Before' period of my life. Anything from now on would be dated "A.T." -- after Tiffany.
But eventually the announcement was made that the flight had landed. I watched the parade of humanity, the old and young, the tired and those full of nervous energy, young girls running out to boyfriends and grannies and grandpas greeted by grandchildren.
A good chunk of the crowd, about 30, were with Tiffany's company or Marge's law firm. I recognized Stephen, tall, dark and handsome, walking off beside Tiffany and the girls. He had a briefcase in one hand and in the other --he held Kristen's hand. The miserable son of a bitch.
I had told myself I was not going to explode at anything I saw, but I only hoped I could avoid killing the SOB. He might take my place in the girls' lives after I was out, but I wasn't out yet.
I cut through the crowd like a Great White through a college of tuna, as people moved away to let me through. Stephen caught sight of me first and after one glance at me stopped dead still and let go of Kristen's hand.
He must have said something to Tiffany because she stopped to look at me and I saw her go a little white. I don't know what I looked like, but it must not have been pleasant.
She moved to step between me and Stephen but two little female bodies hurled themselves on me first and between kisses and hugs and feverish cries to "look what I got Daddy," I must have started looking more human because Stephen lost that tense expression on his face.
Tiffany was on me then and threw her arms around me. She would have kissed me full on the lips but I turned my head just enough so that her lips grazed my cheeks. I hugged her so she couldn't try for another kiss and a moment let her go -- actually pushed her away gently. She gave me a hurt look.
I bent down and took my girls in my arms. I kissed them as if I was never going to touch them again, and inside me that's what it felt like.
Finally, Tiffany put her hand on my shoulder.
" Bruce, Bruce, let's go. You've got the rest of the weekend, the rest of their lives to love on them."
I finally stood and released them. Tiffany came into my arms and I held her. I looked at Stephen and he had the grace to back away and pretend he had other things that suddenly needed doing. I noticed Marge standing beside Stephen. I might have glared at her. Regardless, she glared back.
Tiffany tried to kiss me on the lips and again I moved so her lips graced my cheek. She just stared at me as if not believing what was happening.
Marge came up to stand beside us. Tiffany exchanged a look with her and before Marge could say anything, Tiffany told me, "Why don't you go get our car, Bruce and meet us at the departure loading zone. We'll say goodbye to Stephen....and everybody and be ready when you get around there."
I nodded and walked away. Despite what Tiffany had said, I noticed the looks that the members of her company and her mother's law firm gave me as I walked past them.
It was partly pitying and partly curious as if they wondered how I was able to walk around with my head up after being deserted by my wife. I wondered if any of them believed her fairy tale about my having to work, or if she'd even gone to that much trouble to avoid embarrassing her loving husband.
I got the SUV and pulled it around to the pickup area. As I parked, I turned off the ignition and slid out from behind the wheel. I got the girls inside and seatbelted, got Marge into the middle seat and then went around to where Tiffany was about to slide into the passenger side.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I handed her the car keys.

"What?""
"You'll have to drive home, Tiffany. I drove my car over here."
"How -- why? I told you that we'd ride home together."
"I'll -- uh -- you just drive home and get settled in."
I pushed the keys into her hands and walked her around to the driver's side.
"I'll get my car."
That's all I said and I know she thought I meant I was going to drive to what had been our home. I should have said something, I know. But I couldn't do it in front of the girls. And I couldn't stand the thought of going back to what had been and no longer was our home. I know it was a shitty thing to do, but I drove back to my apartment and turned off my cell. There was no home phone.
So I would never know of my own direct knowledge, but I could envision it in my mind and I later learned I was pretty close.
I could see her driving to the house, unlocking it and unpacking the SUV with Marge's help. It would take awhile to unpack the debris of a month's worth of clothing, souvenirs, brochures....etc. Then she and Marge would be getting the girls into the bathroom for baths and dressing them in pajamas, telling them that daddy would be home soon.
By that time it would be around 7 p.m. and they would be feeding the girls. I expected that she and Marge would settle them down with a little television before making them go to bed early after a long, long day.
And then, I expected around 8 p.m. or so Tiffany would have called me for the fourth or fifth time and gotten no answer.
I figured she would wander into my office at some point and look around, hoping to get a glimpse of what I'd been up to for the month she'd been gone.
It was then that she'd notice that all the papers and documents and my old desktop and my new laptop and other regular working materials were gone. Everything was neat as a pin.
Everything except the pile of documents with my wedding ring lying on top.
I figured that it would take a few moments for what she was seeing to sink in. Then she would pick up the ring, try to figure out what was going on and pick up the documents. She would stare at them and, I hoped, break down into tears. And after awhile Marge would wander in and then all hell would break loose.
I know I was being a damned coward. I should have driven over there and when the girls were down, simply told Tiffany we were through. And I was being brutal.
I thought I was just being a coward, but looking back, I know I wanted to hurt her as badly as I could. She had torn my heart out, destroyed our marriage and my world. And even if it was mean and low of me, I wanted some payback.
I knew Marge would tell her daughter to let me go fuck myself and that she was better off without me. And I knew Tiffany, with that hair trigger temper of hers, would go crazy trying to find me to curse me as a cowardly sack of shit.
But how? While Tiffany was gone I'd opened a new cell phone account using a friend's address so it couldn't be traced back to me. I had a new cell number. I didn't have a new home phone. I wouldn't answer the old cell and there's no way it could be used to track me down.
She didn't know that many of my friends, but if she did manage to reach anybody, they'd been sworn to vows of secrecy and would tell Tiffany they had no idea I'd moved, or if I was staying with somebody.
I hadn't changed my address with corporate, changed my address for anything, simply so somebody in her law office couldn't contact a friend to pull my address out of their billing records. I'd talked a friend into putting up a deposit on the electricity so that the electric was in his name.
I knew that worse than the anger at my leaving her with divorce papers with -- according to her -- no warning, would be the unleashed rage that would have her stomping all over the house, trying to vent without terrifying our daughters.
I watched television on the cheap little 32 inch black and white screen TV and DVD player for an hour and plugged in the laptop to work on the novel, but I deliberately didn't log onto my internet account.
Around 1 a.m. I had started flagging. The nervous energy and anger finally ebbed and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I hit the bed and set the alarm for 7 a.m.
Saturday morning I got up and threw some clothes into a carrying case and hopped into the junker and drove down to Daytona Beach. Two buddies of mine celebrating their new bachelorhood had invited me down for the weekend and I was going to take them up on it.
Her law firm could hire the best PIs in the world and they'd never find me before the start of the next week.
I knew it was going to hit the fan that Monday because I'd be back to work. But I had prepared myself.
I was restocking the shelves with returned DVDs when Mike came to the back and pointed to a well dressed, silver haired guy standing at the customer service counter. He looked back at me as Mike was talking to me and I nodded. He walked back.
"Mr. Davis?"
"Yes. Would you be with the firm of Martin, Devon, Bailey and Bartley?"
He nodded without smiling. He didn't seem to be carrying any legal papers. I was honestly surprised to see him instead of Tiffany. I figured she'd be storming into the store hurling hot lead with fire in her eyes and steam coming out of her ears.
"Yes. Matt Henry. I was asked by the firm to come by and try to get a little bit of information from you. We're representing your wife."
"What do you need to know?"
"Well, why would you file for divorce out of the blue with absolutely no warning to your wife and then vanish off the face of the earth for nearly 72 hours leaving her no way to contact you to find out what precipitated this?"
"There's no mystery. She knows what 'precipitated it.' She precipitated it. And she shouldn't be surprised. When she walked out on me, deserted me for a month, I told her I wouldn't be at home when she came back.
"I gave her fair warning. She just didn't want to believe me. She's been so used to wearing the pants in our family for most of our marriage that I guess she just forgot that I'm still a man and I still deserve to be treated like one."
He looked at me with a little surprise showing on his face. Obviously Tiffany hadn't gone into a great deal of detail with her mom's law firm about our life or what had happened when she went on the one month vacation without her dear husband.
"She doesn't want a divorce."
'I do."
"Mr. Davis, please. I don't know a lot about your marriage, obviously, but there's no record and your wife gave us no indication there had been previous marital difficulties. You've been married for more than eight years, have two young children.
"To file for a divorce under those circumstances is...unusual. Is there -- someone else?"
He threw his hands up as if to forestall any protest I might have and said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that. Your attorney would tell you not to answer any such question, but honestly, in this day and time seeking a divorce to be with somebody else is not something that would prejudice your case unduly. It's just that -- "
He looked at me with a speculative glance.
"I've handled divorces for nearly 20 years. Men and women don't out of the blue seek a divorce after a long and apparently happy marriage. I've been with the firm for 15 years and I've known Tiffany -- your wife -- since she was a teenager. I think I know her fairly well.
"And your actions -- they've shaken her. Nobody is that good an actress. She said she had absolutely no idea you were even...unhappy...much less distressed to the point of walking out on her and your two daughters."
"Then she's the biggest idiot that ever walked the earth, and I know she isn't that big an idiot. Look, Mr. Henry, the divorce papers are fairly clear cut. I don't want anything from Tiffany. All I want is to be away from her, and retain contact with my daughters, as much contact as possible.
"And, it's none of your business, but I don't have a relationship with another woman, with anybody outside my marriage. Although, you might ask Tiffany if she could say the same."
He looked a little surprised at that, then asked, "You've obviously arranged it so your wife couldn't reach you. She still can't, unless it's at this store. She doesn't have your address or a phone number and apparently you haven't seen or responded to any of her e-mails. Is there a reason for that?"
"Yeah. I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to receive emails from her. I don't want her showing up on my doorstep to fight with me or try to fuck me into changing my mind. I'm not going to."
"You're that determined to go ahead with this? She didn't ask me, but I feel honor bound to ask, is there any possibility you would consider going to see any kind of counselor, any counseling, to see if there's any way to keep your marriage intact?"
"No. I won't go to a counselor. I wouldn't go if ordered by the court, and I don't think a judge would order it, but I'd go to jail first. Make sure she knows that."
He looked genuinely puzzled.
"Why in the world would you be so adamant about this? Counseling has been known to help in the most bitter of divorces."
"Not in this one."
I stopped and realized he had no idea what he had stepped into. It wasn't his fault.
"I'm not being hard nosed to hurt her, Mr. Henry. I know you believe in what you're saying. But I've been married to her for eight years and I know my wife. She will never change and I can't change to what she wants me to be.
"I'm doing what is best for both of us, even if she won't admit it. She needs to be free to find -- somebody -- more appropriate for her. Somebody she can be happy with. And I need -- my freedom."
He just shook his head.
"I'll relay the information, but you know she'll come after you, don't you?"
"Yeah, I know it. That's going to be the hard part of this, but it won't do her any good. Try and tell her that, even if she won't listen to you."
#########################
Tiffany sat at a long table. Her mother sat beside her and next to her sat Stephen Middleton. Across the table from her sat Matt Henry, senior partner Wilson Wilkes and the senior and founding partner Mort Bailey. A pretty, long haired blonde, Amber Dawson, was standing by in case anyone wanted coffee or anything to drink.
"....and that's pretty much the gist of what your husband had to say. It's pretty simple. He wants out of the marriage, he wants visitation and contact with his daughters, and he wants to have absolutely no contact with you. And he doesn't want any of your money or assets."
"The asshole," Marge Benner said, glaring at Henry as if he were in cahoots with Bruce Davis. "Did you get him to admit that he's been screwing around on Tiffany. You know that's what this is all about."
"Mother!"
"Damn it, Tiffany, have you ever listened to anything I've said? He's a lazy, no good bastard just exactly like your father. He has no energy, no ambition, and no man walks away from a woman like you and his children unless he's got a girlfriend, or two or three, on the side. Mark my words, we'll find out that's what this is all about."
Bailey rubbed his chin. He was 74, but still strong and active and one of the best minds in the firm.
"It's puzzling, Marge. As Matt says, the papers are very straightforward. Of course, he had that little pissant Morgan filing, and he can barely tie his shoes much less file a decent legal brief, but even so...
"Tiffany, he never signed a pre-nup, and he's got to know you're worth millions. There's your house alone that's worth a good million in this market. That's maybe $4 million in assets and even with a friendly judge, and any halfway decent attorney, I don't see how he'd walk away with less than $1 million. He's not asking for a penny. That makes no sense."
"He probably doesn't have any idea what she's worth," Marge snapped, softening her tone a little as she looked at Bailey. A few years ago, despite his age, he had wielded a very large cock very expertly and they had had a lot of fun times together. He had been good to her.
"The man's an idiot. He didn't sign the pre-nup out of sheer stubbornness. I don't think he could plan far enough ahead to think about walking away with any of Tiffany's money."
Tiffany leaned forward and put her head in her hands.
"I don't think he'd come after my money mom. That's not what this is all about. He's hurt. I hurt his pride. And he's trying to hurt me."
Stephen spoke up for the first time, reaching out to cover one of her small hands with his large one.
"I could tell he was upset at the airport, Tiff, but do you really think he would plan all this out, go ahead with a divorce, and chance losing his kids, just because you hurt his feelings, hurt his pride?"
She pushed his hand away but didn't make a production of it.
"I never would have thought so, but I guess....he was hurt more...."
She lowered her head to her hands.
"He told me he wouldn't be here when I got back," she whispered. "It was the last thing he said to me as I walked out the door. And I walked out anyway."
Her mother put her arms around her.
"He doesn't deserve you, baby. He never has. The only good thing he ever did was give you two beautiful daughters. But he's served his purpose now. You need to move upward. You're a beautiful woman. You're successful and wealthy and you're going to go higher. You need someone of your own caliber, not a loser."
"He's not a loser."
Marge hugged her daughter, ignoring the men around them.
"You think I don't know how you feel, baby. You think I didn't love that selfish bastard that walked out on us? I worshipped the ground he walked on. I degraded myself to keep him. I loved him for years afterward. But I got over him.
"Just like you'll get over Bruce. Trust me, baby. You will get over him."
"I'm going to talk to him."
"Don't. Don't be a fool. Let him go."
She shook her mother's hands off her.
"I'm going to talk to him. He's never been able to resist me up close and personal. I can change his mind. And we can forget all this and put it behind us."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Marge said.
"Let it go Marge," Bailey said in a tone that told her to stop talking. "You were in love with that bastard husband of yours when you came here and it took you years to get over him. She's only had a few days. Let her try. If it doesn't work, at least she'll know she tried."
###########################
She was waiting for me when I closed shop at 10 p.m. Tuesday night. She was in a SUV I didn't recognize so I wasn't able to sneak out away from her. As I walked out to my junker the door of the SUV swung open and she stepped out. She was dressed in jeans that showed her belly button, a younger style than she usually wore, but it looked good on her. She wore a v-necked blouse that let the small swells of her breasts show.
"You were really going to walk out on the girls and me and never even talk to me again?"
"That was the idea, but I wasn't walking out on the girls. I'll keep my relationship with them, if you don't try to screw things up."
"How can you do this, Bruce? I thought you loved me. Were you lying all these years, or did you just stop loving me somewhere along the way?"
"Why don't you just let things go, Tiffany. The wheels are in motion. It's too late to go back. We're through."
"Why? Why can't we go back? Nothing is set in stone. It's just some papers now. Your feelings are hurt. And your pride is hurt. And I'm sorry. But you don't throw away your family and your wife because of one fight."
"It's not just one fight Tiffany. It's not because you deserted me for a month. It's not just because I'll never know and be able to trust that you didn't fuck Stephen while you were there."
"I didn't fuck him, Bruce. Why would you say that?"
"Did you wear that skimpy bikini when you were out surfing with him, Tiff? Did he give you mouth to mouth when you came in? Did he rub that big dick all over you while you were out in the water away from the girls?
"And when you came in with your lipstick all smudged and told the girls that Uncle Stephen was silly, was he just kissing you or did he put that big monster inside your pussy or your mouth? Don't bother answering because I'll never know the truth about what happened.
"And it doesn't matter. If you had sex with him, or didn't, we're still through. The sex isn't the problem."
"What is the problem, Stephen? Is it still just about money?"
She pressed herself against me and I felt the hard nubs of her nipples rubbing my chest in the humid summer air. She reached up to put her arms around my neck, figuring that once again the lure of those breasts and that steamy pussy would reduce me to jello.
I pulled her arms free from around me and set them at her side.
"It is about the money, Tiffany, and it's not. We don't have a marriage. We have a partnership. What is yours is yours and what's mine is mine. There is no 'our.' The only thing we truly share are our two girls, and if you could establish legal ownership of them and cut me off, I think you'd do that too."
She backed away and stared at me with hurt in her eyes.
"You want me to be your property, that's it, isn't it. That's always been our problem. You want to own me. Why can't you see that I have to be my own woman. We can love each other and be together, but I have to have my own life as well."
"I want to own you and everything you have. And I want you to own me and everything I have and ever will have. Marriage is a joining of two people. In the old saying it said making two one flesh. As far as I'm concerned, everything I've had had, everything I ever will have is yours. We don't need a legal document.
"You see, I trust you. I trust you with my life, with my heart, with my children. Even if you screwed me over, broke my heart, I wouldn't regret loving you and trusting you and opening myself up to you. But you can't trust me. You can't leave me in a position to hurt you, because deep down you know I will.
"You remember when we first got serious. You wanted to live together. To see if we'd be compatible. Your mother was all for it. And I said no.
"If you love somebody, you love somebody. You make a commitment. You don't keep running shoes under your bed ready for that moment when you're ready to make a break for it. I was the one that insisted we marry.
"If it was up to you, we'd still be living together. No real bonds except our children. And you'd always have those shoes ready to go off and make a new life for yourself if I turned on you, disappointed you, hurt you."
I reached out and held her face in my hands and I knew this was when the pain really began. This was for real and I was going to lose her, give her away actually. I was going to give her her freedom, because that was what she really needed.
"We've never really been married, Tiffany. We have a legal document, but no marriage. We have never been joined together. We've just been two people living in the same house, having sex and raising two children. That's not a marriage.
"It's what you want, but I've never wanted it. And I just decided when you walked out on me, that I couldn't go on living that way.
"So go back to that house we used to live in. Sign the papers. Don't fight it. Let me see the girls and you go and fuck Stephen or anybody else you want to. Make lots of money and have a good life, and let me try to find a life for myself."
I turned around and walked away from her. She didn't call me or try to stop me. I think I heard crying. But she let me go.
She let me pick up the girls every other weekend with no static. She didn't try to talk to me, just sent the kids out to meet me.
I talked to the girls and tried to explain to them that sometimes mommies and daddies just couldn't live together even though they still loved each other. And that nothing would ever change my loving them.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I think Kaitlyn understood, because she was old enough to know friends whose parents had divorced. But Kristen never did. She cried when she left her mother, and she cried when she left me. And I felt like the shittiest human being on the planet.

I gave Tiffany my cell phone number and a few times late at night the phone would ring. I could hear someone breathing, and I think crying, but they never said anything, just hung up after a few moments. I knew who it was.
And I knew she was hurting. But I was too. I could have stopped at any minute. I could have turned back. And I would have had her and the girls and our house and our old life. But I would never have what I truly wanted.
And now I did wonder if she had been faithful. And I wondered if she had been, could she continue to be. Everything she had said to me the day she announced our separate vacations was still true.
She missed me and she was lonely and she was afraid of change. But none of those affected the fact that we were fundamentally mismatched. We were two people who should never have gotten married.
Time passed and three months later with an expedited schedule, I got a notice and showed up on a Wednesday in Circuit Judge Katherine Holden's courtroom.
I was there with my pitiful attorney, Jeffrey Morgan, who I don't think even had the nerve to look the opposing attorney in the eye. His hands shook and I wondered again if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to me that he was a flaming alcoholic.
Tiffany sat in a demure powder blue blouse and matching skirt looking like something out of Betty Crocker, alongside Matt Henry. She didn't look over at me as the judge asked us a few questions.
"Mrs. Davis, it's evident this divorce action was brought by your husband and equally as evident that you opposed it. But you haven't thrown up any roadblocks, asked for any counseling, nor has your husband asked for any share of your financial assets or child support which in almost every other case where there's such a financial disparity between the two parties is almost inevitable.
"The only thing he has asked is an equitable share of time with your two daughters and you've not only acceded to that, but given him more time than he requested.
"I have to say, you have both surprised me. I understand that you've already indicated, Mr. Davis, that you won't consider counseling, but could I ask you to reconsider?"
Morgan just looked at me.
"No ma'am. I would not consider it."
She looked at Tiffany.
"It would be well within my rights to order both of you to undergo at least three months of counseling, Mrs. Davis. In this case I can't help but feel that you two have not apparently had any discussions of the underlying problems that led you to this courtroom. Would a delay of three months pose an intolerable hardship to either of you?"
"No ma'am," she answered, looking at me. "I don't want you to order counseling. Bruce has already indicated he'd rather go to jail than sit down with me and try to save our marriage. I don't have a lot of pride left, but I have some, and I will not force him to sit down with me when all he wants to do is leave me behind."
The judge gave me a hard look.
"Is that correct? You said you would go to jail before you'd sit down and talk with your wife and a counselor?"
"Yes ma'am."
"And if I said I would put you behind bars until and unless you agreed to go to counseling. I could hold you for six months without even another hearing. Would you be prepared to go to jail for that length of time just to gain your freedom from your wife and family?"
"I'd go to jail. If you held me for a year or two. Eventually you'll be replaced or die. And I'm not seeking my freedom from my daughters. I love them. I just want to be free of my wife."
"Are you in love with another woman, Mr. Davis? Do you have plans to engage in another relationship after this divorce is granted?"
"No, although I hope I will find someone else after this marriage ends. And I hope Tiffany can do the same."
She looked at me and then at Tiffany and just shook her head.
"I have no legal authority to question you about your emotional involvements since adultery or infidelity or anything like it is not alleged on either side.
"It's just that...I've been on this bench for seven years. I've seen a lot of divorces. Sometimes people divorce because they fall out of love or just get tired of each other. That's so obvious I don't even have to look for the signs anymore.
"That's not the case here. I can look at you two and see there is still an emotional attachment between you. And when there is that kind of passion, there's almost always an outside precipitating cause. It's either adultery, infidelity, suspicion of infidelity, some type of emotional harm or injury that one or the other party cannot get past.
"Both of you have in your court documents not alleged any type of such conflict, and in fact, you've behaved more rationally and responsibly, and in your case Mr. Davis unselfishly, than the couples who just don't care one way or the other about each other anymore."
She looked down at the documents in front of her.
"I will honestly tell you both that I have a bad feeling about granting this divorce. I will ask you one more time. Would you consider counseling, or if you're adamant about that Mr. Davis, would you simply consider a postponement. Give yourselves another three months to think about what you're doing. These divorce papers will still be here in three months if you want them."
"No, your honor. Three months won't make a difference. Three years won't make a difference. "
She looked at Tiffany.
Tiffany looked over at me and there were tears in her eyes but she wouldn't let herself go.
"No your honor. If my husband wants to get rid of me that badly, I'm not going to stand in his way. Give him his divorce."
"The divorce is granted. Mr. Davis, you are a free man and Mrs. Davis, you are a free woman. I wish you both well."
Tiffany didn't even look at me as she walked out of the courtroom with Henry. I sat back down for a minute and then realized a new attorney and new clients were waiting to sit down. The divorce merry-go-round never stops.
I walked out a free man, but freedom is over rated. I'm fairly tall and in fairly good shape and I've had girls in the store and female customers come on to me, but I never took advantages of any of the offers. I didn't when I became a bachelor...for two months.
One December night in the middle of the month, I was working in a Blockbuster filling in for a sick manager when a dark haired woman came in with her elderly silver haired grandmother. They were chatting away in Italian.
My mother was born in Naples and had grown up in Italy before meeting my father who was in the Air Force at the time. So I had grown up with a fairly good understanding of spoken Italian and a rough ability to speak it. They were asking a question about a movie and I answered without thinking, in English.
They both stared at me and the grandmother tilted her head and looked at me as if trying to recognize me and said in Italian to her granddaughter, "A paisan, and not too bad on the eyes. You should flirt a little."
I blushed a little and said, again in English, "My mother was born in Naples and I understand more than I speak. Thank you for the compliment, and your granddaughter is entirely too beautiful to be chasing men. They should be chasing her."
The grandmother looked at me and smiled and a slow smile grew on the granddaughter's face. She was beautiful. Long black hair, red lips, and a set of breasts that threatened to overwhelm her sweater.
It was sweater weather because it gets cold in December in Jacksonville. It was raining which made it even colder. Jacksonville is a Florida city, but it's more apt to consider it South Georgia weather wise and we've had bone-chilling freezes as early as December.
Anyway, she was huge and when I'd gone back with my mother to visit relatives in Naples before I'd met Tiffany, I got the impression that most Italian babies would never starve. Almost every Italian woman seemed to have big tits.
And Delanna Smith, her father was a good old Georgia boy, was definitely all Italian female. She was the apple of her grandmother's eye and her daddy was big and protective, but two weeks later after celebrating New Year's Eve together she was bucking underneath me and trying to push my cock all the way through her pussy while I milked her two handed and tried to suck her tits off.
The only thing I'd ever missed with Tiffany was that she didn't have large breasts. I'd learned to live with it and I loved our sex life, but manhandling those huge fleshy mounds while I pumped her as hard as I could made sex with Delanna unforgettable.
She'd made me come hard inside her twice when she grabbed my dick and with her mouth and hands made me hard again and rolled me over and enveloped my dick in those mountains of titties. She started massaging my dick roughly and sucking on the tip as it popped out between her breasts.
"I know you want this," she said because sucks, " because guys always want to tittyfuck me. How'd you manage to hold out so long."
"I didn't want you to think that all I wanted you for was your boobs."
"It's okay," she said sucking and slurping. "All I want you for is your big hard dick."
So for four months we did our best to fuck each other to death. And while I didn't love her, not the way I had Tiffany, she kept me happy in bed, she was funny and loving and good company.
When we finally broke up it was my girls, oddly enough, who precipitated the split. She had loved the girls when she'd met them....loved them too much in a way.
One night after I'd had them for the weekend and took them home she used her mouth, pussy, ass and tits to drain me four times. I lay back in my bed in my cheap apartment and thought that life wasn't too bad.
"We need to talk," she said and a shiver went through me. Whether you're dealing with a girlfriend or a wife, those are four words you never want to hear.
"Where are we going?" she asked and those are another four words a single guy never wants to hear.
"Back to your house in a little while and maybe we'll take a movie in tomorrow?" I said smiling.
She shook her head.
"I'm serious. What are we? Fuck buddies? Boyfriend/girlfriend? Lovers? Do you ever want to make this permanent?"
I tried to come up with an appropriate answer and she read me. I asked, "Why are we talking about this, Delanna? Can't we just be friends and have fun and fuck each others' brains out?"
She put her face down on my chest and said, "I hurt every time I see your girls. I know how much you love them. I really like them. But I want my own babies. I'm not getting any younger. I would be a great mother. Have you ever thought of us...."
I couldn't lie to her. She was a sweet woman, a good woman, and she wanted more than I could give her. Just like I had wanted more than Tiffany could give me.
And that was the end of that. When I dropped her off at her apartment, we kissed and I knew there was no point in calling her again. I got a card from her a year later announcing her wedding in a big Mandarin Catholic church. I didn't go. Because I wondered why I was stupid enough to let her go. She was a good person and a great fuck and would have been a wonderful mother. But I didn't love her.
The April night in 2007 after I dropped her off I was at home at 11 p.m. after finishing a shift at my home Blockbuster. It was a Sunday night. The phone rang. I picked it up.
"Mmmmmmm...ohhhhhh....that's sooooooo gooooddddd...."
What the hell? I knew who it was, but what was she doing?
"Oh, Goooodddddddddddddd....it won't go in...it's bigger than it ever has been...."
"Tiffany, I'm hanging up if you're going to be pulling this shit."
"Don't you hang up you bastard, don't you dare.....oh ...Stephen, fuck me baby..."
"That's it. Fuck you, you bitch."
"No, Stephen's fucking me, you cowardly bastard. If you got even a fraction of a ball left, don't hang up that goddamned phone. If you can throw me away, the least you can do is listen to another man give me what I need."
She wasn't pretending. I could hear the squish of organs rubbing against each other, the noise a cock made sliding in and out of a wet pussy. She might be faking it, but somehow I thought he was inside her as I listened.
"We've been fucking for six months, Bruce, since the day our divorce was final...and my pussy should be loosened up, but some nights...GODDDDDDDAAAAMMMMMMIIIIITTTTTTT...Stephen it's going to come out my throat...but don't' stop....."
He pounded and hammered her over and over. I should have hung up...I wanted to...but it was like watching two cars colliding in slow motion. I couldn't force myself to hang it up.
And in my mind's eye I could see that body and pussy I had loved being penetrated and ravaged by Stephen's huge cock. I could see her drooling, from the pussy and mouth as he drove her over the edge again and again. I could hear the non-stop gasping that meant she was orgasming over and over.
She wasn't that good an actress. I don't think anybody could be. She let out a long, shuddering exhalation and he breathed loudly and then it sounded like he was lying down beside her.
It took her a minute and I was about to hang up when she got her breath back.
Her voice was whispery but got stronger as she went on.
"You know, don't you Bruce. You wanted to think I was faking it...but you know, don't you. You remember when I was with you. We fucked so many times. You'd know if I was faking, and I wasn't, and you know it. Stephen is lying beside me with that huge cock...it's soft now, but it's still almost seven inches long.
"It's so damned big....a lot of times even when he's done and I can't squeeze another cum out of him, I like to lay here and just run my fingers all over all over it and then get down and lick it up and down and up and down. It's my toy....no matter how depressed or bad I feel, I can lay down here and play with it and I get to feeling better.
"And I have you to thank, Bruce. I wanted to call tonight and thank you. The girls told me a couple of nights ago about that big boobed bitch of yours. I know you must be in Heaven. I was never big enough for you, you son of a bitch.
"Well, you want to know something...I never knew it, but you were never big enough for me. I never knew what having a really big cock stuck up your ass or your pussy or down your throat really felt like.
"He's better than you...he's better than you ever will be...he's better than you could ever be.....you never opened me up the way he does, you never filled me up the way he does, you never filled my mouth and throat with so much hot white cum that I nearly drowned...what a way to go....
"And if I was ever crazy enough to let you in my bed again, I might pretend so I wouldn't hurt your feelings, but you would never do it for me again. I'm ruined for you.
"I actually feel sorry for you, Bruce. You got a wild hair and your feelings hurt and you threw away a woman that loved you. And now you'll never get me back, unless you'd settle for a pity fuck."
After a long time, she said, "You still there, Bruce?"
"Not any more, Tiff. Don't call again."
I snapped my cell flip top closed. When it rang again I set it on the floor and smashed it with a clock radio until I'd killed them both. Then I went to my liquor cabinet, pulled out a nearly full quart of Jim Daniels and proceeded to get seriously wasted.
I had to have a cell phone so I replaced it despite not having that much free cash.
And two nights later I smashed the new one all to hell and gone when she tried to give me a stereophonic cuckolding by phone.
I didn't want to replace it, but there has to be a way for the company to contact you and I bought a third phone. And smashed it three nights later.
I knew I was being stupid, but it was either smash the phone or drive to her -- what used to be our -- home or his apartment and smash him and lose the chance to see my daughters again unless it was on visiting days at the state prison.
Two weeks later he was walking into his apartment about 8 p.m. in the dark when I came up behind him just as he unlocked the door. A kick to his back sent him through the doorway, slamming the door open so hard it bopped him in the face before he got all the way in. He came down on a flimsy wooden coffee table and reduced it to splinters.
It took the breath out of him and he just lay there for a minute. I sat on the couch opposite him and just watched. He rose to his knees and shook his head. When the door slammed back it bloodied his nose and busted his lip. He was bleeding.
He looked up at me and noted I had closed the door behind us so we were unlikely to be disturbed until we'd finished our discussion.
"I don't care what fucking karate shit you try, you asshole, I'm bigger than you and I'm going to smash your fucking face in....you coward...had to jump me from behind...not only have I got a bigger dick than you, and I make Tiff scream louder than she ever did for you, but you're afraid of me...."
I held my hands out in a peacemaking gesture.
"I'm sitting right now nice and quiet. I'm not jumping you. Why don't you get up and try to kick my ass? Please."
He had the heart for it. He got up and charged me. And after I put him down he got up again. He was holding his side and he couldn't breathe right, but he went after me again. I could have killed him, but I just broke his nose. He stayed down longer that time, but after awhile, he just shook his head and rubbed the blood out of his eyes.
"She loves my dick, you know. She's not just saying that to rev you up. She can just play with it for hours..until my skin gets sore and then I let her suck me. And there's nothing -- I mean nothing -- that I want to do that she won't do.
"You're the stupidest fucking moron I've ever known. You threw away that piece of ass because you got your feelings hurt."
I didn't' say anything, just remained seated on the couch across from him. His big screen television which had been hanging from the wall was a collage of metal and glass on the floor after I'd sent him into it. Two chairs were pieces of kindling. A pretty nice piece of mounted modern art was scattered in pieces across his den.
"You can still leave and I won't hurt you."
He actually smiled. I had to stop myself from liking him.
"Your move."
"Well, let me get myself up," he said moaning and managed to make it to his feet. He came at me and I didn't see the leg of one of the chairs until it was whistling by just over my head. I took it away from him and hit him in the side and then in the stomach and then in the back over his kidneys.
He collapsed like a balloon that's had a spike driven through it. This time he wasn't going to be getting back up. I sat back down and after awhile he was able to roll over onto his back. He looked up at me and I saw for the first time that he'd had enough.
"I guess.....I should...taken that karate shit.....seriously.....but...I always....thought....it was...camera tricks."
He laughed and spit blood.
"Shows how much...I know....right?"
"For a pussy, you didn't do too badly."
He lay back and tried to draw air into his lungs for a few minutes.
"I guess...you're going to beat me...to death now, right?"
"No. How can I beat you to death? I was never here. I'm in a video game marathon at a friend's house in St. Augustine right now. Have been there for the last 18 hours and I'll probably be there for the next 24. Got seven people who will swear I never left the house."
"So I got the crap....kicked.....out of me...by a figment...of my imagination?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I smiled at him. I couldn't help it. If he hadn't been fucking my wife and he didn't have that huge dick that had enchanted her, I would have really liked the son of a bitch.

"I'd say a burglar or two, maybe home invaders, broke in and you fought them off. You can reach a phone and call 9-11 and have somebody here in a few minutes."
He smiled back.
"I could probably call them in time... for them to catch you before you...got back to your alibi....and....what would you do then?"
"Spend a few years in prison. But I'd get out. And the next time I'd have an iron clad alibi and I'd rip your dick off with my bare hands and cripple you so you'd never walk again. I'd do it even if I had to go back to prison. You can buy a gun, but you can't watch your back forever."
He took a deep breath and coughed up blood again, then breathed shallowly until he could talk again.
"I guess I have to...chalk this up to...experience.....I'm going to miss her...you know...but she's not worth....dying for...."
I got off the couch and knelt down beside him. He drew back for a second but I didn't reach for him.
"You can still see her."
"What?"
"I divorced her...you're right....I lost the right to say who she can fuck....and if she wants you...that's okay. But...."
I looked down at him and made a quick chopping motion in the direction of his dick. He flinched.
"But, you will never, ever, go along with her calling me while you two are having sex again. As long as you live. I don't care how you do it, but convince her that would get you killed. If she really likes you, she ought to be willing to stop tormenting me."
He shook his head.
"I thought it was true. You still love her.... don't you? Why in the hell....did you throw her away....?"
"It was the best thing for both of us. Don't try to figure it out, and please...if I can ask you any favors and I won't hurt you if I find out you went against me, don't ever tell her I still love her. It would just make things worse."
I got up and walked out and there was no one around in the night and I made it back to St. Augustine in an hour and a half to my friend's marathon gaming session and it was like I had never been gone.
Nothing else happened. I heard from the girls a week later about Uncle Stephen's house being invaded and his fighting two men off. And mom cried and spent the day at the hospital with him. Eventually she went back to work and Uncle Stephen went back to work and the cops had absolutely no luck finding the two black guys who had tried to rob him.
It was a Saturday night and my latest cell phone rang at 11 p.m.
"Hello Bruce."
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Stephen told me everything."
"He probably suffered a little brain damage from that beating he took. No telling what he thinks happened."
"I feel guilty. You hurt him really bad, and it's all my fault. I won't....call you again like that."
"Thanks."
"I knew you still loved me. The sad thing is, now, it doesn't matter anymore. I could never be satisfied with you now, even if you came to your senses. And even though I don't call you, you know I'm going to be fucking him. As often as I can. Because I can't get enough of him."
I didn't say anything.
"Do you ever wonder, Bruce...sometimes late at night and you're all alone, what it would be like if we were still together? I know you'll find other women. But they won't be me."
This time she didn't slam the phone down, just hung it up gently. But it still sounded like the end of the world.
I dated and I fucked and I partied over the next six months. I took the girls to college events and to soccer practice at the YMCA field in Orange Park in the Spring. There were times in the months after my little heart to heart with Stephen that I sat in one bleacher cheering the girls and Stephen and Tiffany sat 50 feet away on another bleacher.
We'd catch each other's eyes and nod once in a while. I'd see Tiffany talking to Stephen as they snuggled and stared at me, but they weren't obnoxious about it. They were just another couple watching their kids.
Then during the summer when I went to pick them up or when we went to summer camp events and Theatrical Camp because Kaitlyn was a budding thespian, I noted that Stephen wasn't around any more. Not once in a while, but he had vanished.
The next time the girls came over and I subtly pumped them I learned that Stephen had started disappearing four months ago and for the last two months they hadn't seen him at all.
Mom had told them that she and Uncle Stephen decided to stop seeing each other. They weren't fighting, just wanted to take a break. Kaitlyn told me that Mom hadn't cried, but she'd walked around looking sad for a week and then she seemed to be her old self.
And the first new guy the girls had never seen before had come to pick Mom up on a Friday night while Grandma babysat.
I wondered if he had dumped her or she'd finally got her fill of his big dick. And now she had gone to playing the field. Just like me.
So we lived our lives on parallel tracks, trying not to pay attention to what the other was doing, connected only by two little girls, one of whom had her period and started developing little breast buds.
And then I was really glad that Kaitlyn had a mother, because no way did I feel up to guiding her through the treacherous waters of adolescence -- being a teenage or even pre-teen girl.
The other major change in my life occurred about six months after Tiff and I divorced. I was at one of the Blockbusters in Arlington when a big dark-haired man came in with a half dozen DVDs to return He was cursing under his breath as he dumped the DVDs off and then pulled out his cell phone and punched a number in.
He talked for a minute and then slammed it shut and said, "Fucking waste of air...sorry son of bitch...you miserable bastard....""
I usually shot the breeze with customers I knew and tried to tell them what was out that was new and worth renting. I knew this guy and he was usually a happy-go-lucky bastard who, when he came in, was usually with a woman, always a "10" on his arm, and usually a different "10" each time.
He was obviously not in a renting mood tonight.
"I'd give you the new release list, Mr. Fleming, but something tells me you're not in a DVD-watching mood. Is there anything I can do to help?"
He looked at me and shook his head as if to physically dispel the dark thoughts and said, "Oh, hey Bruce. Nah, nothing you can do. It's just a goddamned shame that when you pay people good money to come up with words for you, the sons of bitches get drunk and overdosed and I wind up trying to come up with the copy myself. And I'm not a word man."
I thought he was in public relations, for some little firm in Jacksonville. We'd talked briefly over the last couple of years when I'd run into him about the vicissitudes of the PR game.
Then he stopped muttering and looked at me and, I think, saw me for the first time.
"Bruce....am I remembering correctly? You write novels and short stories?"
"Yeah, plugging away....haven't sold the novels yet but I've placed some short stories."
"You ever done any non-fiction? Any PR or promotional writing?"
"No."
"Could you?"
"I don't know. I doubt it. I don't really know anything about that type of writing. I haven't even tried it since college. There must be tons of guys around that have experience doing that kind of thing."
"Yeah, there are, but I don't know any I can trust that will finish a job for me tonight."
"Tonight? You mean, like in the next 4 hours or so?"
"You'd have till 8 a.m. tomorrow, which means about 11 hours."
"You ought to try to find somebody else. If I can't get it done, I'd feel bad about getting you in a bind."
"I'm already in a bind, Bruce. You know we're a boutique agency. We're small, but we work for really high dollar clients and we've built up a good reputation over the last 20 years. Hank --Henry -- Clark and I are the owner/partners. We built it since we left UF. Hank has always been the word and idea man. I handle clients and sell our stuff.
"We've gotten a little too big for ourselves lately and we had to bring in three writers. Which was enough, but we've got this account and we need copy for a very expensive retirement community that needs to go into the printer tomorrow morning to make the deadline for their national ad campaign.
"Two of our writers are jammed on big accounts that provide a good chunk of our income. Hank is a walking zombie because...of his family situation...and my last hope was just busted by the cops for possession of cocaine after plowing his car into the front of a nightclub in Orlando. He blew a .19, which means his blood is basically almost pure alcohol.
"I am shit out of luck, Bruce, unless you could help me. Even if you can't do it, it would at least give us a shot."
"I -- uh -- I'll take it but I'll tell you right now I might not be able to do it. You'd be better off looking for a pro."
"I'm going to, but in the meantime could you try to crank out some copy? I've got some samples, their talking points, stuff that will show you what they're looking for and what we need."
I told him I would and I looked it over between customers and took it home with me. I didn't get to bed until 4 a.m. and was up at 6 a.m. in time to get into Jacksonville and be in his office by 7:30 a.m.
I had kept it as simple as I could, basing my copy on what I thought the owners were trying to sell. What they were trying to sell was security and reassurance that even though you were aging and might need some help with daily living, you were still better than 95 percent of the working stiffs and Their Place was the Right Place for a special person like you.
It was pure horseshit of course, but it appealed to the twin needs to assuage the fear of dying on the part of aging customers and stroke their ego at the same time. I wasn't sure if my stuff was any good at all, but I thought I'd hit close to the mark.
I sat across from Vic Fleming and watched as he read through the copy, then read it again and read it a third time.
He finally looked up at me, hit the intercom after which a blonde with 42DD tits and an ass to die for swayed into his office and took the papers from him.
"Candy, get that to the courier and get it over to The Right Place before 8 a.m."
She took it without a word, gave him a glance that should have melted steel, and glanced at me on the way out. I could feel every nerve ending in my body tingling.
"Who do you have to kill to get a job around her?" I asked, only half joking.
"She's a very sweet lady, high IQ, great secretary, happily married and the mother of two small boys. But she's also wonderful eye candy and we've gotten a lot of business from guys that were dreaming about getting between her legs. Fortunately," he said and lowered his voice so only I could hear him, "she likes what I have between my legs. She loves her husband, but she's not fanatical about it."
Then he turned his attention back to me.
"It's not the best or most polished stuff I've ever seen, but it's useable and good enough that they'll come back to us. For a first time effort, on the fly, under unbelievable deadline pressure, it's pretty damned good. What do I owe you?"
"I've got no idea what to charge. Whatever you think is fair."
He opened his wallet and passed me five $100 bills and then fished a form out of his desk and slid it over to me.
"Sign this. You're signing away any rights to your text so we can use it whenever and however we please and you can't come back and sue us if it winds up making somebody a million dollars. That's because you're a freelancer. If you were working in the shop your work would be covered and we wouldn't need to do this."
I looked at the $500 and couldn't believe my eyes. $500 for only two or three hours of real concentrated work. It was a nice piece of change. I reached out and shook his hand and got up to leave.
Before I could make it out the door, he asked me, "Would you like to try this again. I think with some effort and maybe a little training by one of our regular writers, you'd be a valuable addition to this firm. The money is good for freelancers. I'd like someone who can write fast, and turn out acceptable copy."
I shrugged.
"Sure. I can always use the money."
"Ever thinking about doing this full-time, if it works out?"
I thought about it for a moment.
"Naw, I don't think so. I like Blockbuster and the people I work with. This way I've got time for my fiction writing, I'm keeping my Blockbuster option open, and I would almost always be available when you needed a quick turnaround."
He just nodded at me. Before I could leave, he said, "I could introduce you to Candy. Maybe you could go out to lunch sometime. Let her fill you in on how the office works. It would be good to know."
"No thanks."
"I could tell you were impressed and she's been around here long enough that I know when she's interested. It might be fun. And it's a definite perk to working around here."
I shook my head.
"No. No offense or anything personal, but I'm not interested. I divorced my wife six months ago and I think she might have been running around on me before we made it final. I just don't -- I don't want to do that to some other poor bastard."
He looked at me and smiled a sad smile.
"You and my friend Hank. God, I'm glad I've never loved anybody like that. Sometimes I think I've missed out on something important, and other times I say my prayers of thanks that I missed out on it."
I walked out and for the next year and a half wrote ad copy for Vic and Hank. And made enough to beef up my bank account and take the girls to a few nice places.
I was nowhere near Tiffany's league, but I was making more money part time than I was with my full-time Blockbuster job. And I was up to 400-plus rejections on the Great American Novel and wondered if my dreams would die before I did.
#############################
Vic Fleming sat up a little straighter in his chair behind the big marble desk he had had carried to three different offices over the years as the firm had grown or changed locations for strategic reasons.
It was probably something very childish, but a memory of a desk like this seen in some movie or documentary when he was a child had stuck in his head.
And when he and Hank had begun making the money they had never dreamed of making, he had the desk produced to his specifications. He always felt more powerful, more in control of the world around him behind this desk.
He sat up straighter in what he recognized was an instinctive attempt to preen for this young woman entering his office.
The woman entering his office was well dressed, although not too dressy, and appeared very professional. Despite looking all business, she was still hot. Young, probably too young for him, but what the hell, robbing the cradle occasionally was fun. Slim, brunette, not ostentatiously built, but there was just something...
He reached down as unobtrusively as he could to move his rapidly thickening cock to a more comfortable position. Having a big dick was usually not something that posed a problem, but getting an erection in front of an attractive woman in a business setting was not good business.
As it was, he was forced to be somewhat impolite simply because he couldn't stand up to shake her hand without embarrassing himself.
She just looked at him for a moment with a hint of a smile as he gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk, then sank gracefully into it, crossing her legs and revealing some very nice leg encased in sensuous nylon.
"Miss...Hampton, I believe it was....I appreciate your taking the time to come down to our office, but I would have been happy to meet you."
She shook her head.
"No need. I had business downtown. And I wanted to talk to you in person and meet some of your staff. And it's Mrs. Hampton. I'm keeping my ex's name for awhile since some of our larger customers are familiar with me under my married name."
"Meet some of our staff? I'm afraid I don't understand."
She reached into a slim briefcase she had set down beside her chair and pulled some papers out and leaned over to hand them to him. As she leaned forward some very nice swells of small but attractive breasts peeked out from her cleavage. He wondered if it was accidental.
He looked over the papers she had handed them. They were primarily print ads, along with a few transcripts of radio ads and a few television ads with still shots attached.
"We've used other advertising firms in the past, but the owners of our firm and staff including myself felt they'd gotten a little...stale....over the past year. We started looking around at some other agencies' work and some friends pointed to your agency as a possibility to handle some of our new advertising campaigns.
"After we decided to study your agency, we got a list of your clients and started looking at the print and media ads you've done for them. We were pleasantly surprised.
"These ads are ....I don't know quite how to say it and we haven't quite pinned down exactly what the quality that impresses us is, but the easiest way to explain it is that they are fresh, Their concepts and writing doesn't seem like the same old-same old.
"I've dealt with a lot of advertising agencies over the past 10 years and I think I've developed a pretty discriminating eye. I like the work and the feel for the written word and the buyer's market pitch that whoever prepared these had.
"I'd be happy to meet with anyone on your staff, but I really would like to meet the individual or individuals who did these."
Fleming looked over them and most were relatively easy to place. A couple were harder to place, but a few moments recollection brought them back to him. He wasn't surprised.
"I know who did these, Ms. Hampton. We run a small shop here as I'm sure you've been told. Our total staff including Mr. Clark, my partner and co-owner, and myself, amounts to only 15 people including secretaries. We have four writers and idea people. One is Hank Clark, we have two writers on staff, and a fourth writer who is basically a freelancer but on call whenever we need him."
He laid the papers down in front of him against the cool marble desktop.
"These were all done by the fourth writer. He's a freelancer. Actually, I brought him into the business about a year and a half ago. We were in a crunch and I ran into him where he was working at his fulltime job. I knew he'd written some things and asked him if he were willing to give copywriting a shot.
"He did and the rest is history. I started using him for freelance assignments and he always delivered, always did a good job, and he was fast as hell. Fast and dependable, and good. It doesn't get much better than that."
She looked down at the papers.
"He did these as a part-timer? I'm impressed. Actually amazed. You wouldn't believe how much crappy copy I've had to wade through over the years, from people who were supposed to be dependable professionals.
"I'm quite surprised that you let him hang out there as a freelancer. Somebody else is going to notice this guy and snatch him up."
"I've had the same worry. Unfortunately, he likes his full-time job and he's also a writer of fiction on the side. One of those guys who keeps trying to write the 'Great American Novel.' But a few months ago my partner and I finally bit the bullet and decided we didn't want him to get away.
"Hank and I have always been 100 percent owners. We split the company 45-45 and offered him a 10 percent ownership stake to be exclusively ours. If he writes for us exclusively for five years, he's vested in half that, and if he stays with us a full ten years, he gets 10 percent of the company. He can stay or sell his percentage and walk away. It's win-win for everybody."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Ten percent ownership for a part-timer. I don't know that I've heard about that. They don't do that in the land development business for sure. I've worked for my company for over a decade, and I'm still a hired hand. A very well paid hired hand, but I don't own any of the company. I envy him."

"We had to think very hard before we did. This company is our life, mine and Hank's. And our regular writers are good. But this guy is -- something special. Before Hank -- ran into some personal problems, he and I always worried about what would happen if something put him out of action for a good while.
"I can sell ice to Eskimos, but I have no damned word sense at all. And our writers are good, but...they're workhorses. They can get the job done, if you show them the job.
"But this guy actually has an imagination and despite the cliché, he's one of those guys who really can think outside the box. And he's younger than we are so if he stays with us, eventually Hank and I could ease back and let him take the reins, but still keep some control.
"Like I said, a win-win for everybody."
She sat up straighter and re-crossed her legs and despite himself Vic Fleming found himself looking for a shot of pussy. She wasn't wearing panties, although it wasn't blatant. And the look she gave him let him know she'd noticed.
He sighed. She was tempting, but his fourth wife was entering into the jealous bitch stage and he really didn't want to go through the divorce dance right now. Better to be good and safe, than sorry.
She took the papers back and said, "I have some ideas and I'd like some of this wordman's input. Do you think he'd be willing to meet with me tonight? There's a nice, new Thai restaurant in Baymeadows that I was wanting to try out. We could eat and talk. I'll put it on my tab since it's business for him."
"He's single so if he's free there'd be no problem. Give me your number and I'll call him and if he can make it I'll have Candy, my secretary, call you. Okay?"
"Sure. By the way, what is this Wunderkind's name?"
"Davis, Bruce Davis."
"Hmmmmm....."
"That's an interesting.....hmmmmmmm. You know Bruce?"
"I'm not sure if it's the same guy, but a friend of mine was married to a Bruce Davis once. The marriage didn't work. But Davis isn't that unusual a name. And the Bruce Davis my friend was married to....wouldn't be a rising star in the advertising world. He wasn't that kind of guy."
"Ask him yourself. The world can be a small place."
#######################
I walked into the Star of Siam at 8 p.m. I'd gotten a call from Candy because Vic had to run out on an important business matter. I think he just had to go home and fuck his fourth wife.
He was keeping that marriage together with fucking, grit and grim resolve not to go through another divorce for awhile. We'd gotten to know each other over the past year and a half and I knew he was fucking around on her, as he'd fuck around on whoever took her place.
Despite that, and despite the difference in the way we looked at women and life, I'd always liked him. He was what he was and didn't really make any bones about it. Women were interchangeable pussies, good for pretty much one thing and for hanging on your arm at social events. Beyond that, I don't think Vic had ever had a deep emotion about women in his life
He was the complete opposite of his friend and soul mate Hank Clark in that way, and Hank had the scars to show for it. He loved his wife as much or more as I'd loved Tiffany, but she had put him through a hell I couldn't even imagine. And yet they'd come through on the other side.
It was funny in a way. She'd done him far worse than anything Tiffany had ever done, and they were together. Tiffany and I would never be together. Goes to show you never can tell.
I asked the waitress for a Mrs. Hampton and she took me to a room off to the side of the main dining area.
There was a doorway made of shimmering beads and as she pushed through I saw Mrs. Tiffany Hampton sitting at a table at the back of the small room. She had a briefcase beside her that she was looking through. A glass of what was probably White Wine was beside her.
She looked up and me. She wasn't smiling, but not angry either. She was the very model of the modern businesswoman. I don't think she had a hair out of place. Her clothing was just attractive enough to let you know she could afford to dress to show off her face and body, but there was virtually no cleavage or leg showing.
"Hello Bruce."
"Mrs. Hampton."
I stood across from her at the table but I made no move to sit down.
"You going to sit down?"
"Not sure. Probably not."
"Why not? Your boss, Vic Fleming, said you were a company man, always willing to go the extra mile to get the job done for your firm. Although, I'll admit that I find that hard to believe. The Bruce Davis I knew would never go the extra mile for anyone, or anybody. Especially for a job that paid him decent money. I thought making a decent living was against your religion, or something."
I looked at her and couldn't believe that she still looked that good, couldn't believe the old reaction I'd always had to her was still there.
"That's the reason why I'm not sitting down. This isn't a business meeting, Mrs. Hampton. This is just another of your attempts to screw around with my head. Pretty clever, I have to admit. You had to track me down to my new job, which I've taken pains to make sure the girls know nothing about. Then you had to have my work researched so you could come in and pretend to be interested in my copy.
"It's been two years, Tiffany. We've made new lives for ourselves. You had an affair with your big-dick boyfriend for nearly a year and then followed that up by managing to get yourself married and divorced in the blink of an eye.
"Why the hell can't you just leave me alone? I don't keep coming back after you. I only came here tonight because I was curious to find out what your latest scheme is."
She grabbed the white wine and took a sip slowly. Then she set the glass down on the table and stared up at me with a slight smile tempering the bland expression on her face.
"How do you manage to stand upright with your head so swollen with your own importance, Bruce? Do you walk around thinking that everything anybody does revolves around you?
"Are you really egotistical enough that you think I'd go to the trouble of shadowing you to find out you'd gotten a new job? And then I'd research your copywriting. And pretend to be looking for a new firm.
"Just to have another chance to talk to a man that dumped me and his daughter after eight years of marriage? In case you forgot, I found out there are other cocks out there. Bigger and better than yours, in fact.
"Maybe I haven't found a better husband yet -- my first attempt after you was, l'll admit, a pitiful failure -- but I'm looking and eventually I'll find one with a big cock, the ability to keep it in his pants when he's not around me, and enough self confidence to be able to live with a woman who has her own identity.
"There are men like that out there. I just happened to miss them my first two times out."
I slowly tightened my fingers around the back of the chair in front of me until my knuckles were white.
"That's why I'm not sitting down, Tiffany. You'd think after two years we might have gotten past the poison between us, but it doesn't go away. You have to keep tearing at me, and I keep coming back like a bull charging at a red cape."
"Says the man who is so frightened of spending time around his ex-wife that he hasn't spent any time, or even talked with her, in two years. You can't stand to be around me, Bruce, and I've figured out why. You can't stand to be reminded of what you lost -- what you threw away. So you're hiding and sulking like a little boy and you won't come out and play anymore."
"This is hopeless."
I started to turn away, when she said, "You are such a fucking coward. For a big mean karate bully, you are terrified of a woman. You are afraid to even sit down and share a meal and talk business. What are you so afraid of, stud? I don't bite. And in your case, I won't even kiss it. That make you feel better?"
I sat down.
"Let's talk business, then. And by the way, I wouldn't let you touch any part of your body to any part of mine. No telling where it's been, or what you've been doing with it."
She motioned to the waitress to get my order, adding quickly before she arrived, "You wish. You're never going to squirt into any part of this body."
The conversation was strained, to say the least, as the waitress took our orders and we started to talk about the copy I had written.
"I have to admit, you could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather when
Fleming said your name. I wondered for a second if I'd wandered into the twilight zone. My Bruce...writing business copy, making a really nice second income freelancing and actually becoming a partner in a prosperous business. I honestly didn't know you had it in you."
I looked at her face checking for sarcasm, but she actually seemed serious.
"It was nothing I planned..."
"I can believe that."
"I was just at the right place at the right time."
"And you're a good copywriter."
"Writing is writing. It's just that this pays so much better."
"Whether you believe it or not, Bruce, what I said was true. I wasn't looking for you. The company is looking for some new advertising approaches, new blood, and that's what led me to Fleming and Clark.
"Your copy and your style is fresh. We need new talent, and the more money Fleming and Clark make, the better off you are. As long as we're here, why not look at some of the things we're working on and give me your thoughts."
So she brought out some documents and specs and while we ate Gai Pad Met Mamuang, or stir-friend chicken with cashew nuts and Panaeng, or beef in spicy coconut cream, I told her what I thought might make the millionaire owner/partners even more rich.
Some of the ideas she dismissed as pure horseshit, stupid, derivative, trite, etc. Others, however, had her tapping her chin with a pen, usually a sign she was thinking deeply about something. She started taking notes on a legal steno pad she pulled from the briefcase.
I looked around and realized we were the last customers in the restaurant. Somehow it had gotten around to 11:45 p.m. and they closed at 12. The waitress hovered near us, waiting for us to pay up and get out.
Tiffany grabbed the bill before I could get it, saying, "No. I said this was on me. This is business. Funny how time flies when you're having fun. It was kind of fun, wasn't it."
I wondered what her definition of fun was and said so.
She laughed.
"You realize this is the longest we've talked, the longest we've been together, without snarling at each other in two years?"
"Just goes to show that nothing is impossible. You think you guys, the partners, might be interested in any of the stuff we talked about?"
She finished putting the papers away and zipping the briefcase closed.
"Yes, actually I think they might be. Really, I know they will be. We'll almost certainly be back in touch with your bosses in a few days to a week. I'll probably be the point man for our side. Do you think you could stand to work with me for a few weeks or however long it takes us to finish up this project?"
"As long as it's strictly business. This wasn't actually too bad. I've had worse times having root canals, so at least I know spending time with you isn't the most painful experience in the world."
"Funny. I never realized you were so funny when we were married. By the way, you seeing anybody seriously? I noticed you haven't gotten remarried."
"I've haven't gotten married, or even divorced one time since we split. I guess it takes me longer to get my relationship legs under me. You planning on taking the plunge again soon?"
"No. I think I'll cool it for awhile. Concentrate on my business life and the girls. God, did you know that Kaitlyn has a little boyfriend? The little bastard is already trying to get her to play spin the bottle games at kids parties. I had to talk to his mother to cool him down."
"She told me about it."
"She told you?"
"Believe it or not, both of them do talk to me. I just told her to kick him in the balls if he got too grabby. Glad you gave her that birds and bees talk so she knows about male equipment and how to grab a guy's attention."
She smiled at me and for a moment I thought I saw the old Tiffany.
"Can you believe -- could you ever have believed we'd be worrying about protecting our daughter from horny boys. Sometimes I feel a hundred years old. Where did the time go?"
I was determined that I was not going to mist up.
"I don't know Tiff. I wish I did. I wish....never mind. I guess I'll see you if Vic or Hank set up a meeting in the future."
"There's a pretty nice bar, for grownups, about two blocks from here. They have our music and a live band tonight. The girls are with Mom tonight. You care to have a drink to wind down?"
"No. Thanks, but...I have to go to work tomorrow. I'll walk you to your car."
As we stood beside her 2008 Lexus IS 250 Sedan, she looked up at me and shook her head.
"When did you turn from a man into such a pussy, Bruce? A good looking woman is willing to have a drink with you and you turn her down. I promise you, I won't be comparing your dick to Stephen's the entire time we're out, but...Never mind. I knew you wouldn't have the balls to drink with me. We both know what's going to happen."
"And that is?"
"You're going to wind up begging me for a fuck. And this time I'm going to walk away from you and leave you with your tongue hanging down to your knees."
"You are so fulla shit."
"Then prove it, tough guy."
At 2 a.m. they announced last call and people began to toss down the last of their drinks and try frantically for last minute hookups.
"Oh, shit. I will never make it home without a cop busting me."
I looked at the empty glasses around me and cursed myself as an idiot. Why had I let her goad me into going out drinking. It had been fun. I'd forgotten how much fun she could be as we sang along with songs from the late 90s and earlier that we had danced and fucked too in our college days.
I caught myself glancing at her when she looked away from me. Why the hell did she have to be so screwed up? Why had I been unable to break away from her before I got sucked into a marriage and two little girls had been brought into the world.
But, would the world be worth living in if they weren't in it? Maybe our marriage had been a mistake, but they weren't.
"Me neither. Why don't we get a cab?"
"Share a cab?"
"Why not? Unless you don't think you can keep your hands off me for the time it takes to get home? You've had a hard on since we've gotten here."
"Talk about having an inflated opinion of yourself. There a lot of really hot women in here. Like that big blonde over there."
"Her boobs are store bought. Can't you tell?"
"And I should care about that, why?"
"Men are pigs. You want to call a cab?"
Forty five minutes later we were trying to swallow each others' tongues in the small living room of the apartment I'd called home for two years. It was the first time she'd ever set foot in my apartment.
She pushed me away, gasping for breath.
"I told you, you bastard, you couldn't keep your hands off me."
"You were jerking me off before we were out of the nightclub parking lot, you horny bitch."
"You had my bra off on the way to the cab."
Then with virtually no transition she was on her knees and my dick was in her mouth and she was sucking and squeezing with her fingers around it.
"I thought....you....said...."
She looked up at me and smirked.
"Cat got your tongue?"
"You weren't interested...."
"It's small...but I don't mind giving you a mercy suck... no fucking through. You're never getting in there again."
Then she was being rammed up against the living room wall by my dick while she wrapped her legs around my waist and I lifted her ass up so I could slam my cock up inside her.
"I thought...you'd be....wide open...after Stephen's big cock....but you're tight..."
She was biting my shoulder and I knew I'd have to have a tetanus shot.
"It's been....it's been.,..oh god...oh god....ohhhhhhhh"
I did my best to hammer her ass through the wall.
"That's right, bitch, come all over my dick....yeah I feel that...come hard....seems big enough for you now....is it big enough?"
"You're....uh...tiny, so fucking tiny....I don't know...how I can even feel you...."
I set her feet down on the floor and pulled out. She just leaned against the wall and looked at my cock dripping with her.
"wha....what?"
I pulled even further back.
"If it's so damned small, I'm not going to bother...."
She tried to reach it but I held her hands and she could only strain at me.
"YOU BASTARD...give it to me...."
"Sorry, Tiff, why don't you give Stephen a call..."
"He wouldn't tease me, you bastard. He'd ram it in me until it hit my tonsils."
"Like I said, call him. I'm not going to disappoint you with my tiny dick."
Even though I had her wrists, she dropped to her knees, ducked her head under her outstretched arms and was on my dick like a baby bird after a worm. She took it in and then with a second lunge took it in up to the balls.
I'd tried to keep trim down there because several girls had told me they didn't like spitting out public hair. But Tiffany just went to town sucking everything her mouth could get to.
At some point I lost the will to hold her wrists and raising her mouth off my throbbing cock she tackled me and was on top of me and slamming that hot wet pussy down again and again. I raised my head and I thought she must have been breaking the sound barrier with her hips and ass, pounding and pounding and pounding.
I came and before I could wilt her constant slipping and sliding up and down the semi-soft stalk brought blood back into it and I was hard again.
I grabbed her and pulled her off and threw her down on her stomach. I reached down and ran my fingers through her cunt, laved her asshole with the fluids.
"Nooooooo...not there....you're not having my ass......"
I slid the head into the tight puckered hole as the fluids lubricated my entrance.
"I'm going to fuck your ass until you scream, you miserable cheating bitch. If your cunt is that tight, your asshole is going to be something else."
"Don't...DON'T.....stop..goddammit that hurts....not so fast..."
"Is that what you told Stephen, bitch? He was bigger than me and I bet he rammed it up your ass plenty of times. You like it up the ass, remember?"
"He was....he was..."
"What?"
"He was bigger soft...."
"And...?"
" He was only a little bigger around and when....you get real hard...he was only a couple of inches longer...."
I was all the way in and I pulled her to me and held her and felt the warmth of her rectum tight around my cock, tighter than her pussy could ever be.
"So why.." I asked, pulling back and ramming it in as hard and deep as it would go and feeling her whole body jerk in my hands, "did you lay it on so thick about how fucking big he was and how he filled you more than I ever could."
I pulled out and then hammered her again and again and felt her gasp and try to catch her breath and tried to beat her asshole to death with my dick. She was probably trying to talk but every time she got some breath she expelled it with a gust of air as I fucked her with no mercy.
"Don't stop..dontstop don'tstopdon'tstop.... Fuckmebaby... fuckmyasssodamnedhard..."
I couldn't get a breath in me to even scream as I exploded into her and she made only incoherent noises. After a long time I was able to breath enough to ask her, "why....Tiff....why torture me?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She rolled toward me. She was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. For having had two babies, she was still slim and trim. Her pussy was red and swollen from the beating I had just given it.

"You left me without any warning, you son of a bitch. You walked out on me AND your two young daughters. You have the nerve to talk about me about torturing somebody?
"You will never know how I felt that weekend after you vanished. I couldn't reach you to scream at you...to fuck you....to try to tell you how sorry I was. I felt like tearing my eyes out, but I had to keep it together for our girls..."
She took a deep breath and let it out.
"I fucked Stephen and I told you how big he was and that you'd never match him in bed because I wanted to hurt you as bad as you hurt me."
"Was he that big and good?"
She looked at me and she had the grace to appear a little guilty.
"Yes, Bruce, he was that big. Even a couple of inches makes a difference, and he was good. And I loved the way he fucked me and he did reach places you never did. And he made me cum over and over."
For having just fucked this woman into incoherence, I didn't feel all that hot right now.
She reached out and took my hand in hers.
"In case you forgot, you fucked me into a lot of climaxes when we were together. He was fantastic, but you weren't chopped liver. I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't love fucking him, but....I never loved him. Not the way I loved you. Even if you never believe me, I didn't fuck him in Hawaii. Not that he didn't try. But I didn't."
We lay there for what seemed like a long time. After awhile I rolled to the side of the bed.
'I'll call you a cab. It's late but you'll be home in an hour or so."
She leaned on an elbow and looked up at me.
"Coward. Coward. Coward. You're even afraid to spend the night with me...sleep with me after great sex. Are you so afraid that your iron self control will crack and you'll ask me if you can crawl back and we can try to make a go of our marriage again."
I could have said, "will never happen." But I felt a tenderness and a loss for this woman and what would it hurt to have one last night together. I laid back down beside her and she put her head against my shoulder and I fell asleep that way. Her tears ran down my chest to wet the bed.
The morning light coming through a bedroom window would have roused me if she hadn't nipped at my rampant cock with her small, sharp teeth. Not hard enough to hurt, just to let me know she was down there.
In a moment I had her head in my hands and I fucked her mouth as fast and hard as I could and watched her gulp when I came inside her. She licked me clean as she had so many years ago and I rolled her over and slid down and returned the favor until she screamed.
We took a shower together and dressed, her for work and me to lounge around for a few hours until it was time to go into Blockbuster. She sat across from me at the tiny kitchen table and sipped coffee from my coffee maker.
"Where to from here?"
"I go back to my life, Tiff, and you go back to yours."
She looked at me sadly.
"Last night changed nothing?"
I looked her straight in the eye.
"What could it change, Tiff? Could it make me love you any more? Could it make the sex any hotter? I forgave you for the hurt you did to me a long time ago. And I guess I believe you that you didn't fuck around with Stephen in Hawaii. Even if you did, I could have gotten past that. But..."
"But you still have to own me, don't you Bruce? You have to have this archaic -- you are my property, woman -- marriage that hardly anybody outside of the oil states has anymore."
"Yes, I guess that's the way you see it. I have to have YOU -- all of YOU -- in the marriage. All your money, all your love, all your commitment, all of you, all in. No more running shoes under the bed. You have to once and for all get past your father's betrayal."
She looked into her coffee cup like there were grounds she could read to tell the future.
"Could we -- at least -- see each other sometimes....like this. I guess I could live with not waking up beside you every morning...if I knew that....we weren't through for good."
I wanted to make her smile so badly but I made my heart into a stone.
"I won't see you again, Tiff. I can't. This is tearing my heart out. I want you more than I can stand, and I know I can't have you. Because you're not mine. You never have been. There's a part of you that you hold back. I tried to live with you for nearly ten years, praying that you would change. But you never did. You never will, Tiff. I don't think it's in you."
She stood up.
"So this is goodbye?"
"Once and for all and for real. Yes, it's goodbye."
I didn't watch her as she left. I put my head in my hands and wondered if I was the stupidest fucking man that ever walked the face of the earth, or just one of the unluckiest.
######################
I had just dropped my latest assignment off and stopped at Candy's desk. It was September 15 and September 17th was my birthday. Vic and Hank had both asked me to make it by Sardelli's, a nice Italian family restaurant, on the 17th for an office party/birthday celebration.
Candy wore a - for her - fairly demure light blue blouse and pants suit. The blouse gaped open with her breathing, exposing cleavage that matched anything Delanna had ever shown me.
I leaned over her desk and looked down at her breasts as she looked up at me and smiled.
"Getting a nice view?"
"The view from up here is heavenly, Candy."
She gave them a little wiggle/jiggle that caused me to stiffen up dangerous. I was afraid I might burst my zipper.
"It's always nice to be appreciated, Bruce. But I always had the impression that....you wanted to avoid office...entanglements...."
"You were married until six months ago, Candy. No matter how hot you were, I didn't want to get involved with a married woman."
"That's why I always thought you were a nice guy. A lot of men wouldn't be so particular but...I know why you were that way. Are you and your ex-"
"Finally done, Candy. It took me a long time, but I'm ready to move on. You dating anybody in particular right now?"
She shrugged, which also did nice things to those tits.
"Various people. Looking for a nice guy that's interested in more than my boobs."
"Would you consider a nice guy that's interested in your boobs?"
"I didn't think you were ever going to get over that ex of yours."
"It took me awhile. But I think I am ready to move on. Are you over your ex?"
"For the last few years, actually. I know a lot of guys around here think I'm just a slut, but I probably should have split two years ago. It's just that he was a great guy and a great father. We just weren't a good husband and wife."
"Would you consider being my date to my birthday party?"
"You ask a girl for a date two nights ahead of time?"
"I know it's short notice and I'm sure you have a crowded calendar. If you can't do it, at least keep me in mind for the future."
"Don't be so quick. Yeah, I can be your date. Just for fun....right now...right?"
"Nothing heavy, Candy. I just want some -- no pun intended -- eye candy for my arm that night. Then let's see where it goes."
"Okay. Just for laughs, Bruce."
She took a deep breath and let it out and her tits rose and fell. My eyes were about ready to pop out.
She pretended to slap at me.
"Damn, but it's good for a girl's ego to be around a man who really, really appreciates what she has."
"Consider yourself appreciated."
########################
I picked up Candy from her home on the Westside, saying hello to her two little ones who looked like they would become friends with my two girls if anything developed, and we drove toward the downtown where Sardelli's was located only a few blocks from the giant BellSouth tower.
We drove around for awhile until we found parking and then walked three blocks in the humid September air that left me perspiring before we got inside Sardelli's.
Most of the secretaries, the word guys, Vic and his latest wife Honey who was hanging onto him by her fingernails, and Henry and Patricia Clark were all there already started on wine and popping Arancini di Riso rice balls back with red wine.
I got hellos and congrats and jokes that turning 33 was the real official sign of old age. You were no longer a kid when you were nearly halfway to retirement. I joked back and Henry and Patricia came over to pat me on the back and hug me. Henry, make that Hank which everyone called him, looked 10 years younger than he had when I'd started writing for him and Vic.
And there's no wonder. I had come in late, but he'd been going through Hell, married to a woman that he loved and hated in equal measure, a woman who'd tortured him in ways that I couldn't even imagine.
She was almost as tall as me, as gorgeous a woman at nearly 50 as I'd ever seen. Jet black hair, huge tits, a body and face that screamed 'fuck me'. She came over on Hank's arm and hugged me to her and I couldn't stop the erection that started building behind my zipper. And I knew from the glance she gave that she knew exactly what her body and even the smell of her did to me, and every other male in the place.
And yet, she turned from me to give her shorter husband a kiss and you could read in her eyes that his cock was the only one in the room for her. Vic had told me he'd known them since the days when the three of them attended UF and he wouldn't have given a nickel for the chances of his old friend holding onto the only woman he'd ever loved.
We'd gone out drinking one night and he said the only thing he could compare it to was two fish caught on the same hook. No matter how much they thrashed and fought to get away from each other, no matter how much they hurt each other, there was no way they could break free of each other.
Watching them, and knowing something of what they'd gone through, I wondered if I would have changed places with my boss. He had gone through hell, but you could find a way past infidelity. I couldn't find a way to change the past and allow the woman I loved a way to trust and finally give herself to me. Another man, or men, I could maybe have fought. But how do you pay for the sins of an errant father.
I reached out and grabbed a glass of red wine, gulped it, and decided that was the last fucking morbid thought I was going to entertain tonight. I was with friends, it was my birthday, I had a gorgeous, big tittied blonde as my date, and the odds were very good , that if not tonight, then soon I'd be enjoying all the pleasures that body had promised for the past year and a half. This was going to be a good night!
We had finished the appetizers and main courses and were having some Marzipan Lucky Pigs and Almond Torrones for desert when Vic stood up and said, "Alright, alright. If you guys can stop stuffing your faces. It's time for a word from the birthday boy. Bruce, say something witty."
I stood and said, "Unaccustomed as I am to public speaking," and despite the fact that it wasn't funny, the place dissolved in gales of laughter. Maybe because most of us were about two sheets to the wind.
I banged my empty wineglass on the table until the laughing stopped.
"All kidding aside....I want to thank all of you for being here and for coming up with the idea of this party. You guys know that I have a family of sorts with my friends from my day job at Blockbuster. I've known those guys for years. But in the last year and a half, I feel like I've acquired a new family. You're my friends."
I stopped and looked around at the now familiar faces in the room.
"I....don't have to tell most of you that this has been a pretty....rough two years for me. My marriage ended. I lost my wife. I...got another 50 rejection slips on the Great American novel."
At that the room broke into hysterical laughter again. Everybody knew and joked about my pursuit of the GAN, as everyone dubbed it.
"Thanks one hell of a lot," I said, pretending anger. "Some friends you are! But, the fact is, it would have been a hell of a lot lonelier, and colder, and more painful two years for me if I hadn't run into Vic Fleming one Fall night. Thank you Vic."
Then I sat down. Vic stood up again and said, "In the spirit of the night, I'd like anyone who'd like to make any comments about our friend to stand and do so."
"I'd like to say a few words."
Everyone there, including me, turned their gaze to the entrance to the private dining room, to look at the woman standing there dressed in a stylish black dress with an oversized handbag hanging on her arm. A few of them knew who she was because I'd shown them her picture, but most just stared in curiousity.
I couldn't believe my eyes. She walked forward into the room until she was standing directly in front of the table where Candy and I sat.
"Why are you doing this, Tiffany? I thought....thought we'd settled things...ended things..."
"I didn't come here to embarrass you Bruce, or cause you any trouble. Can I have a minute to talk to you."
"Couldn't you have done this some other time, Tiff? This was a party for me. I was having a good time. Jesus, do you live to make me miserable?"
"After we finish this time, I promise you, I will never contact you or bother you in any way again. Word of honor."
Candy put her hand on my arm.
"Give her a few minutes, Bruce. You need to."
"Okay. What do you want to say, Tiff?"
She reached into the oversized handbag and pulled out a snub-nosed .38 revolver. I felt, rather than heard, the abrupt intake of breath around the room. She held it loosely in her right hand while I froze. Then she reached out and laid it down on the table in front of me.
She reached back into the handbag and came out with a small purple box and laid it on the table beside the revolver.
I think you really could have heard a pin drop.
"Open the box, Bruce."
I reached out with two hands, which only trembled slightly, and lifted the lid on the jewelry box, to reveal matched diamond wedding rings. There were two sets, each set consisting of two identical gold bands woven into a kind of Moebius strip topped with diamonds.
I was trying to make sense of it all when she dropped to one knee, holding onto the table with one hand.
"In front of God and your friends, Bruce, I want to ask you to marry me. Will you marry me?"
I couldn't think of a word to say.
"It's a simple question, Bruce. Will you marry me. Be my husband again. Be my life again."
"Tiff..."
"You were right and I was wrong, Bruce. I see that now. I'm not holding back. No separate accounts. No pre-nups. No hesitation. I want to be your wife for the rest of my life. I want to go to bed with you and wake up with you. I want to belong to you forever. Every part of me. My ass, my pussy, my breasts, my heart, my body...it's yours. If you'll have me."
I could only stare at her. Was I dreaming at home. I had wanted this for so long. And now that I had it, I couldn't believe it.
"Tiff, are you sure? I know how hard this has got to be, but if we get back together again and I find out you aren't serious....you'll kill me, baby. Or you might as well."
She had gotten back to her feet and picked up the .38 again. Once again I heard people gasping.
"I won't change my mind, Bruce. But, you better not change your mind."
She held the .38 with the snub nose pointing to the ceiling.
"I know that I'm screwed up, Bruce. I've always known it. And I've seen how what Dad did screwed up mom's life. She's the way she is -- because of him. But, after I said goodbye to you the other morning I decided I wasn't going to let him ruin the rest of my life. I love you and I want you in my life. I'm taking a chance on you being different from dad.
"But-" she said looking at me without a hint of a smile, "I am not being completely naïve. If I ever -- I mean ever -- catch you screwing around on me, I am going to take this .38 and blow your balls off. It probably won't kill you, but your screwing days will be over."
She put the .38 back in her handbag.
"That's the deal, Bruce. If you haven't been lying to me for two years, and you do still love me, this is what you wanted. I've done all I can do. Now the ball is in your court."
She left the diamond rings on the table in front of me.
"I'll leave you to party with your friends. Think about it, Bruce, and make up your mind."
She turned and started walking out of the private room.
Candy swatted me on the back of my head.
"Don't be an idiot."
Before Tiffany had reached the entrance to the room I had her by the shoulders. She was crying.
"You know this has nothing to do with your becoming successful, don't you? I love it. I'll admit that. But I'd have taken you if you were a beach bum and worth 10 cents. I learned my lesson, Bruce. I'm never letting you go again."
I held her and whispered into her ear, "I'm never letting you or the girls go again either. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life."
Then I turned her around and began introducing her to my friends. And, as a very good writer often says, life goes on.

                                                                                        

                                                                             -  The End  -

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Story :- Separate Vacations: Parallel Lives


 

Written by qhml1

Note :- " this is one good alternative version written by qhml1  for original story i read from other site all credit goes  to original author DanielQSteele1[/url] "

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Auther Note:-  If you haven't read this story by DanielQSteele1, read it now. It won't make any sense if you don't. This story is my Moby Dick, the one I've fixated on since I read it the first time. DQS1 is a very talented writer, but he has a habit of making his male protagonists a little too noble, putting up with extraordinarily hurtful things from the women they love. This version, while it doesn't exactly go to the dark side, knocks at the door. I want to thank DQS for his graciousness in letting me use his characters, and Bebop 3 and the rest of my friends for their input.

There are a few characters from his other stories in this version. Bill Maitland from When We Were Married, as well as Lew and Mona Walters from The last Goodbye. And I probably got the timelines wrong but I tried to be as close as possible.
One more thing. This was the catalyst for my August event, Welcome To The New World. I thought of it and Bebob 3 took the idea and ran with it. It's probably more his project than mine, and I thank him.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I sat there, watching the deer, the unbearable sadness welling up. It was over. I'd tried for ten years, but in the end it hadn't made a bit of difference. She would never be a full partner in any relationship she would ever have, and I was tired of trying. Her telling me how much of a failure I was, how little she respected me, how she may or may not cheat on me while she was off on 'the vacation of a lifetime', was the final nail in the coffin.

Sighing, I got up. She'd started this, expecting me to just roll over. I was pretty sure she was not going to believe what was about to happen.
I didn't have shit for money, she'd made sure of that, but I had a pretty good 401, and I knew I'd be hitting it first thing tomorrow morning. Hopefully there would be enough to get a decent lawyer.
They called from California later that night, and I talked to the girls, hanging up as soon as she took the phone. It took a little willpower to not answer the phone, but all I had to do was remember her little speech when she dropped the vacation news on me.
I went to work the next day, got with corporate, and started the ball rolling. The good news would be I could get 30 grand in just a few days. The bad news was I'd get 30 grand. It was a lot of money to me, but wouldn't buy an afternoon of time with the lawyers her company was tied into, and I was sure she'd come after me with everything they could think of. I'd just have to deal with it.
The next night her mother called and began ranting as soon as I answered. I didn't say a word, just hung up. She called back three more times, getting more abusive. I hung up every time, deciding to record all calls from then on. Thirty minutes later she called back.
"You selfish bastard! Thanks to you, she can't enjoy this trip at all because she's worried. You need to get over yourself, before she hooks up with a real man."
"You mean like that big dicked lawyer? Tell her to go for it. It doesn't matter to me any more."
"I will, he's four times the man you'll ever be, and I'm not even including your pathetic dick!"
"Fuck you, you worn out old whore! Isn't there a married lawyer out there somewhere waiting for his blowjob? I wouldn't want you to get behind schedule. So many dicks, so little time, how do you manage it?"
Her sharp intake of breath let me know I'd scored a hit, and I hung up before she recovered.
Two more days went by, and Tiffany called. After telling me she wasn't going to let me talk to my children, I hung up, and didn't answer the next ten calls that came in rapid succession.
Frustrated, I went out, ending up at a bar called O'Briens, a watering hole that welcomed all. You might rub shoulders with a trucker or construction worker on one side, and a high priced lawyer or a cop on the other. The whole thing was presided over by the retired boxer himself. He was still willing to mix it up if you got out of hand, and carried a ball bat when he needed to. People weren't overly polite, but the regulars knew better than to misbehave.
I ended up sitting with an old friend who happened to be there. The jukebox was on, a preponderance of Cranberries songs playing. It was a little loud, so we were basically shouting. I was telling him about my future plans, and asking if he knew any good divorce attorneys.
The song had just finished, and I was still in loud mode. "I can't afford much, and I know she'll have Martin, Devon, Bailey, and Bartley. They're tied up with her company, and she personally knows most of them. Hell, they'll probably do it for free. I'm screwed, but it won't stop me."
There were several business men in expensive suits sitting behind us, and while I didn't see it, the head of one shot up quickly. In a few seconds I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
"Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing part of your conversation. May I have just a few minutes of your time? It may be beneficial for both of us."
I sighed. "Why? Are you a divoce lawyer?"
He grinned and handed me a card. My eyes went wide. This was Lew Walters. I'd read about him in the papers. He was the lawyer millionaires wanted when it came time to end a marriage. He could break prenupts for one client, get the weakest of one upheld for another. He was best noted, though, for trying to find reasonable solutions to unreasonable situations. Many, seeing who they were facing, urged their clients to settle out of court.
I handed him the card back. "I really appreciate the offer, Mr. Walters, but there is no way I could afford your services."
He grinned. "Oh, my rates can be very flexible for the right cause. Please, just a few minutes. After you listen to me, if you want to walk away, I'll accept your decision."
I had little to lose, so I followed him to an empty table. "Before we start, let me tell you a little story. Once, there was an idealistic young lawyer fresh out of college, trying to make a name for himself. He had the misfortune early in his career to run afoul of a very prestigious, very connected law firm. They destroyed him, even though his client was in the right, using underhand and illegal tactics. A year later they did it again. It took years for the lawyer to rebuild his career, and the law firm used every opportunity after he started winning cases to undermine him. He's been wanting a rematch for years, and you just handed him one. The money is not important as revenge. That being said, if there is money involved, I expect to get my fee. If not, I'll do it pro bono and absorb the cost. Interested?"
We talked for about thirty minutes before a man appeared at our table. "I hate to interrupt, but we need to leave. Lew, I've had a few too many, and I need you to drive." It was strange looking into the eyes of a man I'd seen over a dozen times in the papers. It isn't often you meet The Angel Of Death and live to tell about it. He grinned and shook my hand.
"Bill Maitland. It's a pleasure to meet someone who can get Lew excited. It's been a while, since the..." He trailed off, looking embarrassed.
"Bruce Davis, sir. It's an honor to meet you." We made small talk while Lew paid our tab.
He came back, a question in his eyes. "You have my card. Call me tomorrow if you're interested."
I looked at his card after he left. Hell yes I was interested.
..................
Tiffany called the next day, apologizing for her silence and promising me I could talk to my children, if I just talked to her for a few minutes. I learned a little more than I wanted to hear about their activities with good old Uncle Stephen from the kids before she came back on to the line.
"Please, Bruce, you're taking a little argument and blowing it up into World War Three. I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. Separate vacations can be a good thing. It allows spouses to love each other more when they reunite."
I couldn't help it. "I'm sure it does, Tiff, if they're planned ahead. It's another thing entirely when your wife takes off for a month in the company of a man who wants nothing more than to fuck her, with no notice at all, hoping it will teach me a lesson. In all honesty, Tiff, it has. It may not be the lesson you wanted, but it's opened my eyes. You'll never fully be a wife and equal partner. You'll hold on to a separate piece of yourself, fully convinced that sometime down the road I'll let you down. We're getting very near the end of that road. I hope you like the destination."
"Bruce! Please, you're scaring me here. What can I possibly do to make it better, to get you to understand I have no intention of having an affair, and that I still love you?"
"Get your ass on a plane and come home."
There was silence for a long while. "I...I can't do that, Bruce. The kids are having a great time."
I snorted. "So you'll do anything to make it better, as long as it doesn't interfere with your vacation? Why have I never noticed what a fucked up bitch you are? Wait, I think I always knew, I just thought that if I loved you hard enough you'd come around. How's that working for me? Have a good time, Tiff. Have my children call me, if it doesn't cut into their time with Uncle Stephen too much. Oh, and one more thing. Tell that flaming bitch of a mother you have that's she's done a stellar job of scrambling your brains. And tell her, Tiff, whether we stay together of not, that she is never to speak to me again as long as she lives, and that's not negotiable."
I hung up before she could respond, and once again listened to it ring for hours.
I met with Lew the next day, and again the following Monday. He went right to the point. "You got any idea how much your wife is worth?"
"Not exactly, but I suspect quite a bit."
"She's worth four point four million in cash and assets. Surprised? So was I. She's worth that, and she makes you pay the mortgage, along with the rest of your bills? That seems a little skewed to me."
I told him, in great detail, how Tiffany thought. He couldn't keep the amazement off his face. "How could you stand it? My ex was adulterous bitch, but she never disrespected me like that. If she had, the marriage would have been over a lot quicker."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I loved her, and thought I could get her to change."
"So then, you want me to go ahead?"
I just nodded.
"How bad do you want it to be?"
I never really thought about it and shrugged. "I just want it done. I'd like reasonable access to my children and that's about it."
His look said it all. "If that's how you feel, you may as well leave now. I can't do a thing for you, her lawyers will eat you alive and laugh while they're doing it. She obviously hurt you badly. She takes off with your kids for a month long vacation, without you, in the company of people who could care less about the continuation of your marriage, and you just go out with a whimper? She was right, you do need to grow a set."
"What do you suggest?"
"Hurt her back. Give her something to think about, see how she responds. Get her undivided attention, make her focus on something besides herself for a change. You've rolled over so long the thought that you might actually do something about this is completely foreign to her. If you want to go through with the divorce, let her know. Tell you what, I'll have her served with preliminary papers in two days, right in the middle of her fun filled vacation. It won't really mean anything but it will get her attention. See how she reacts. If she blows it off, then we can start the dance. I'll film the whole thing, and keep tabs on her, see what she really is doing while she's away from you."
"I can't afford..."
He waved a hand. "I'll handle it. And if it comes to it, and you do go separate ways, you can afford it. There is no prenupt, so you get half of what she has, plus, your earnings are so disparate I'm sure there will be a couple of years of maintenance. I'm thinking really nice condo here."
Well, if I really wanted to hurt her, that would do it. The thought of having to actually give me part of her money would drive her insane. So I told Lew to go ahead, thinking I could always drop the whole thing when she came to her senses.
.............
I watched it on video later. The man was standing in the lobby of her hotel holding a sign with her name on it. She came down with the kids, her mother, assembled other vacationers, and Mr. Big Dick himself. Seeing the man, she smiled and approached him.
"I'm Tiffany Davis."
He looked at the photo on his phone. "Ma'am, I need to deliver these documents to you, and you have to sign for them. Could I see some ID, please?"
She dug around in her purse and handed him her driver's license. He thanked her, took a picture of it, and handed the thick envelope to her. "Mrs. Davis, you have been served. Have a good day." He started to walk off and stopped, addressing her again. "I was given a hundred extra to deliver a personal message. Bruce said to tell you 'lesson learned'."
Tiffany looked confused for a moment, opened the package, screamed, and let it flutter to the floor. Stephen Middleton picked some of the pages up, read them, and smirked. Her mother openly smiled behind her back. She immediately dialed my number.
"Thanks, you stupid bastard. Now she can find a real man."
"Bitch, don't you ever call me again."
I watched the surprised look on her face. She hit redial eight times before giving up. Tiffany took her own phone out, and her mother tried her best to take it away from her, but she fought her off. I answered on the first ring.
"Bruce, Bruce, what are you doing? You know I love you with all I have."
I actually laughed, surprising her. "Yes, you've given me everything, haven't you? Your love, your respect, your willingness to be an equal partner in our marriage. I do believe you actually love me, as long as I know my place, behind the kids, your mother, your job, and your money. I was never first in your heart, Tiff. If I was, it was a very long time ago. You love me? Come home, let's try to rebuild the wreckage our marriage has turned into."
Her tone changed instantly. "You've always wanted to own me, haven't you? Is this your pathetic cry for attention? I'll come home when this vacation is over, not a minute before. And you better like the taste of crow, because I won't allow you in to the house until you apologize and admit I was right."
"Tell you what, I'll practice my speech, make sure I have it just right. In the meantime, could I talk to our children?"
"AArgh!"
She hung up, thought about it a minute, and hit redial. She tried for an hour before she gave up.
The next day it was my turn to get a package. It contained a ticket, coach, for that afternoon, and a short note. "You win, you asshole. Get your butt on the plane, and we'll talk when you arrive."
I carefully pissed on the ticket, letting it almost dry out but still moist enough the smell would tell you what it was, sealed it in plastic and sent it back. Lew laughed his ass off when he heard, and then said I shouldn't have done it. Then he got quiet. "I had her checked out. She hasn't cheated on you, yet. But some pussy hound lawyer is sniffing around her, and her mother is throwing him at her every time she turns around. The mother and the erstwhile boyfriend have been observed in private talks a dozen times, and it bodes no good."
"Being served has shaken her. She's not really sure how to deal with you developing a backbone. Have you heard from her?"
I handed him my phone, and he transferred all the conversations to his computer. He looked at me, a sad smile on his face. "She really does love you, you know. Her brains have been scrambled for so long by her warped mother she was never prepared for a real relationship. It's why she's stuck. Her mother has ingrained into her that sooner or later you were going to cheat on her, and try to take her money. It's looking more and more like at least part of it is a self fulfilling prophecy. Think about what you'd like to happen, they come back from vacation in ten days and then it's really going to hit the fan. I want you prepared, because it could get very ugly. I urge you to try to get her to keep it civil, for the sake of the children."
He sighed, and I felt a moment of sympathy. His marriage had cratered, his wife carrying on a year long affair with his partner and best friend, but when he found out and filed for divorce she had fought it tooth and nail. It had been dragging along for almost a year with no resolution in sight. Rumor was their inability to conceive had a lot to do with the relationship devolving.
Tiffany called me several more times, allowing me access to the children. They wanted to know why I hadn't taken the ticket, as well as their mother. When I got Tiffany on the phone and she asked, I went off on her, gently as possible.
"Surely your head isn't that far up your ass. I wasn't invited until I started divorce proceedings, and it was more an appeasement move than one of genuine intent. You really think tossing me a bone would make everything better? All you had to do was come home. We could have taken the girls later and had a real family vacation. Alpha Bitch couldn't allow that, now, could she? It would have been considered a weakness to compromise. So stay, play with your lawyers and land developers, their wives and lovers, the pretty, rich, upscale people, and ignore your loser husband. If you had come home we MIGHT have had a chance."
Her temper finally got the best of her. "This is the last time I want to hear about your silly divorce plans! Yes, I did it to teach you a lesson. No, it didn't work out like I planned, not at all. I WILL NOT cut this vacation short. You need to think about how you're going to live up to my standards.
We have a lot of thing to go over when we return. I want you well rested, because I intend to fuck your brains out when we get home. Once we catch up on our loving, maybe we can look at things in a calmer manner."
"Really? The fuck him stupid defense is going to make up for being abandoned for a month so you could romp with the rich and powerful, flirt, maybe have a little fling, try out a really big dick and see if the girls were right? All I can say is enjoy ever minute of what's left with them, because they're none left with me."
"Bruce! I..." I was getting really good at hanging up.
Eight days later I was watching them deplane, looking tanned and tired, laughing and sharing memories. I promised I wouldn't lose it, the need to see my babies was just overpowering, but when I saw her walk out with Stephen Middleton, him holding the hand of my youngest daughter, looking like a loving family, I lost it. Some of the people recognized me, some were going to speak but one look at my face convinced them that would be a really bad idea.
He saw me first, actually flinching and letting go of her hand instantly. He must have said something to Tiff, and she turned with a smile, that disappeared as soon as she saw me. It was the hand of God that kept me from killing him where he stood, in the form of my girls. They swarmed me, hugging and kissing me, babbling about what they'd done and all the fun they had.
I let it go, reveling in the feel of my children in my arms. I finally looked up, to see Tiff smiling through tears. I stood, and she threw herself at me, trying desperately to hug and kiss me. I saw the confused look in her eyes whe I didn't return the hug and evaded the kiss, gently pushing her away.
"I'm so glad you came! I've missed you so much. You have no idea, but I intend to show you repeatedly tonight and for the rest of the weekend, the rest of our lives. Are you going to drive us home? Let me get our bags, and tell Step...uh, everyone goodbye."
"Take all the time you need. I'm not driving you home. I don't live there anymore, it would just complicate the divorce. I just wanted to see my daughters."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Fresh tears erupted. "NO! I..."

I shut her off. "For once in your life, Tiffany, it isn't about what you want. I'll be by tomorrow, to pick up the girls, unless you deny me. That would not be a good idea."
Her mother was standing to the side with the girls, and could see from Tiffnay's expression it was not going well. She started towards us, and I warned her.
"Unless you want a very ugly, very public scene in front of your bosses and coworkers, I suggest you stop your mother. If the bitch says one word to me, I'll go off like a Roman Candle."
To her credit, Tiffnay stepped around me and stopped her. "MOM! This is between Bruce and I, so please, not a word."
It looked like the top of her head was going to blow off, but she stopped. When Tiffany turned I couldn't help it, and stuck my tongue out at her. The girls caught it and giggled. She went so red I thought she might just stroke out, but unfortunately, she didn't.
The girls were tremendously disappointed, not understanding, but cheered up when I told them I'd be by to pick them up tomorrow at eight, staring at Tiff, almost daring her to say something. She just nodded, and I turned and left.
Just before I went out of sight, I turned. Tiffany was in Stephen's arms, sobbing hysterically while her mother was rubbing her back. Guess she was still breaking in the new man.
...
It was more than a little awkward the next morning. The girls came running out, eager to spend time with me. Tiffany appeared at the door, a wistful look in her eye, as she watched the girls climb into the car. I took them to the park, then we got some food to go and drove to my apartment. It was a fairly nice apartment, but I only took it for six months. Lew said I'd be able to afford better, very soon. After we ate, I gently explained their mother and I were getting divorced.
My oldest sort of understood divorce because many of her friends were from broken homes, but my youngest didn't take it very well. I dried her tears and reassured her as best I could that I still loved both of them more than life, and I would always be a part of their lives.
Tiffany started towards me but I pulled away. I avoided her the rest of the weekend but she surprised me at work Monday night, sliding out of a car I didn't recognize. I knew it was coming, but it still hurt. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a top, but designed to entice. There was even a bit of tummy showing, and for her age, she carried the look well.
"Bruce, Bruce, honey please, come home. I hurt you, I know that now. It was probably not the best decision I ever made, but this can make us stronger. Come home to me and the girls, and let me make it up to you."
"I love you Tiffany. I really do. But you love yourself more. You'll never be a full partner to any man, you'll always hold a part of yourself back, ready to run if you get disappointed. I had most of you for a long time, waiting for you to commit fully. But you never will, not to me, not to anyone after me. I blame your mother. Let me ask you something, Tiff. Your father was a terrible man by all accounts, and your mother is justified in hating him. But we're all not him, baby. None of us. And while she seems to hate all men , it never bothered her to sleep with most of the men at that law firm. What was her official title there, Slut In Residence? Most all of them were married. Did she ever once feel guilty for doing to their wives what your father did to her? She's a very twisted woman, and her influence on you will destroy you if you don't come to your senses."
She didn't respond to the comments about her mother even though her face flushed in anger. "It's about my money, isn't it?"
I sighed. "There you go, Tiff. It's your money, it was never ours. I believe if you could have gotten sole custody of the kids you would have left me out of the loop there too. Does the expression 'two shall become as one' ring any bells? In was in our wedding vows. I don't want all of your money. I just wanted all of you. That will never happen, though, will it? Not with me, not anyone you may fall in love with later, not ever. I can't be what you want, and you can't give me what I need. There's really not much left to say, now is there?
And before you ask how I became so cold, I didn't. I love you more right now than I did when we dated, but my love just isn't enough. But I done shedding tears over what will never happen. Let it go, honey. Let us go. Go find someone like your big dick lawyer, talk to him like an equal while you fuck his brains out. Maybe you'll be happy then."
All the remorse, all the heartbreak, disappeared in a second. I wish I had recorded her rant. "You're exactly the way Mom said you were, aren't you? I loved you, gave you babies, and it still comes down to control and money! Well, fuck you! Just so you know, I never fucked Stephen while we were on vacation, but he sure tried hard enough. Maybe I will hook up with him, God knows it had been so long since I got to interact with a real man it'll all seemed brand new again.
Know this, asshole. I WILL NOT allow a divorce, not now, not ever. I've got the best law firm in the state backing me fully, and you can't afford shit! They'll eat you alive, and when you come begging me to take you back I will, after a while. I'm sure it'll take a month or two to shrink back to normal size after Stephen's monster gets done with me. I'll even try to pretend I'm having orgasms when you fuck me, thinking about his big dick just to get me excited. What do you have to say to that?"
She was glaring and crying at the same time, her arms folded over her small breasts. Breasts I always though was just the right size.
I looked at her for a slow count of ten, trying to not explode. "I guess I have to say you just burned your last bridge. Bring on your high dollar law firm. You just cried 'Havoc!', and I'm going to loose the hounds of war. I hope you remember this night for a long time to come."
I got in my beat up old Volkswagen and left, her mouth hanging open.
I got a couple of visitors over the next few days. The first was her mother. She stormed into the video store in full cry. It was a Friday night, and there were a good many customers about.
"You cheating son of a bitch! You reprehensible, low life motherfucker! Who's the bitch you're fucking? Or is it more than one? Answer me, Goddamnit!"
"Madame, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave the premises. You are disturbing my customers. There are children present, so watch your language."
I said it as calmly as I could, knowing it would piss her off even more. She ranted some more, before targeting a woman in her thirties, who was watching openmouthed. I had already signaled my clerk to call the cops, and they came through the door just as she lit into her.
"Is this the bitch? Well, honey, the mother of his WIFE is about to kick you whoring ass for fucking up her marriage. He won't want you when I'm done, hell, you won't want you when I'm done."
The woman, in full panic, ran down an aisle, with Mom in hot pursuit, screaming profanities. The customer turned a corner, and ducked behind the security officer officers, who had their tasers drawn. Marge tried to stop, but her heels let her down and she ran head on into the woman cop and they went down in a tangle. The large male cop had her in cuffs almost instantly, and they stepped back as she ranted and raged, screaming slurs at the Hispanic woman and the Black male.
The woman leaned over and said something in her ear, and she shut up instantly. She was a customer, and I asked her later what she'd said. She just grinned and said she asked her politely to behave. In the end, Marge was charged with attempted assault, assault on a law enforcement official, and trespassing, because she refused to leave. I got a bonus when I showed Lew the security tape and he had a restraining order invoked. She could not come within five hundred feet of me, my apartment, or my place of employment.
Three days later I was called to the front, to meet with a silver haired, distinguished looking man in an expensive suit. "Let me guess, Martin, Devon, Bailey, and Bartley, right?"
He looked a little uncomfortable and admitted he was, introducing hinself. I gave him no time to speak. "Go back to the office, Mr. Henry. Do not bother me here again or I'll get a restraining order against the whole firm."
He held his hands up. "Please, Mr. Davis. I'm not here to harass you. I'm here as a favor to your wife, to see if I can get you two together to hash out your problems."
"Oddly, Mr. Henry, my problems have diminished considerably since Tiff and I separated. Tell her to just let the divorce run it's course. I'm not asking for anything, but if she keeps up the pressure, I may reconsider. Tell her that if she loves her money as much as I think she does, to back off and let the divorce go through."
"But I understand up until the vacation you both were quite happy. Why would a simple vacation cause such a drastic shift? She understands she made an error in judgement, one she regrets deeply, but she is more than willing to talk it out."
"Tell me, Mr. Henry, were you on that vacation?"
"I was."
"With your wife?"
"Yes."
How many others had their spouses or significant others along?"
"I couldn't tell you exactly, most of them."
"Did Tiffany happen to mention why I wasn't along?"
"Yes, she said you couldn't get that much time off from your job."
"Well, Mr. Henry, she would have been wrong, if she hadn't waited until four days before she was supposed to leave to tell me. Even then, she said I would have to pay my own way if I wanted to come a long. She makes considerably more than I do, and part of our financial agreement was she would pay for all vacations. She said she was trying to teach me a lesson. Did you happen to hear the personal message I sent her when she was served? I know you were close, I have it on film. I make no threats here, but she was under constant surveillance after the first week. Though she was there as a private citizen, the trip was at least partially funded by your companies. Some of the things we filmed would be of great interest to some of the spouses that couldn't make the trip. I also saw how she acted with Mr. Middleton, in public, in the presence of most of the partners, while they all smiled. Free advice, watch him, before he lands your firm in a world of shit. If this gets ugly, I'll make sure most of the footage comes to light. Now, sir, go back to your firm, and tell them what I said. Tell her what I said. You have a good day, sir."
The man was reeling when he left, I could tell. I was guessing ninety per cent of what I told him was new information. I'd had enough, and called Lew. "Do it. Total destruction." I hung up before he could reply.
......................
Tiffany Davis sat at the conference table, her mother on one side, Stephen on the other, listening to Matt relate the gist of the meeting to her. Two of the senior partners were there, just listening.
She gasped when she heard she'd been under surveillance for three weeks, thinking about a few specific instances when her actions would not have passed as married behavior. She hadn't actually had sex with Stephen, but it had been a close thing several times, just managing to stop when she realized what she was doing. She understood now she had done those things out of shock and anger over the way Bruce was behaving, but she still did them. Her plan did not go anywhere near what she'd had in mind. She was still reeling over the fact that he truly wanted a divorce.
"And that's about it. Something here is just not adding up, Tiffany. Your husband has no resources above the 401 loan he'd taken out, and that kind of money isn't a fourth what three weeks worth of constant observation would have cost. So far, he hasn't even filed paperwork, the ones you were presented with on the island were separation papers and not signed, so we are still in the dark as to who represents him or what he really wants.
So far, he's not been demanding. He has to know you're worth millions, and there is no prenuptial. If he has the footage he says he has, if it gets ugly, it could cost you a bundle. I frankly don't know what to advise you to do. If you don't want the divorce, you need to figure a way to get to him without antagonizing him. If it can't be avoided, you need to act quickly to protect your assets."
Marge couldn't contain herself any longer. "Dump the loser, honey! He served his purpose an gave you two beautiful babies, now is the time to cut your losses and save your money."
"Bruce doesn't care about money, Mom. It was never really about that. I forced him into this position, and now I don't know how to fix it. He told me before I left that if I went he wouldn't be there when I got back, and I went anyway. I never once thought he would leave me for real."
No one really knew what to say at that point. Matt Henry secretly thought that success had made her arrogant, and her husband was the quiet, nonaggressive type who'd waited too long to make a stand. Plus, she had gotten very, very bad advice from her mother. He personally loathed Marge. She had made a run at him early in his tenure at the firm, and he'd turned her down flat. Nothing about the middle aged shrew appealed to him. He could see the vestiges of her beauty still, but attitude and lifestyle had sharpened her features into something less, human, for lack of a better word.
They were interrupted when a paralegal came bursting into the meeting, handing the senior partner a sheaf of papers, whispering to him urgently. The man actually started, before grinning.
"Well, well. Now we know who's representing him. Lew Walters. We've been up against him twice, and destroyed him both times. This won't be as hard as we thought."
One of the other partners, Wilson Wilkes, their resident expert in family law, had been listening quietly until now, sat up straight. "That well may be, Mort. But that was a long time ago, when he was first out of law college. I've seen him in action a few times. He's quick, deadly on cross, and he's a lot like us. He'll stop at nothing to win. Let's try negotiation first."
Matt had been reading the papers quietly, looking more distressed as he progressed. "This could be bad. Really bad. All your husband wants is out of the marriage, Tiffany, and ready access to his children, plus Lew's fee. That could easily be north of a hundred grand, depending on how hard you make him work. Fight him, and he won't hold back. He'll ask for half your assets and maintenance so he can, and I quote, 'live in the style he's become accustomed to.' That's about two point two million, and maintenance could run as high as six or eight grand a month, depending."
Marge screamed, and Tiffany fainted.
................
Lew called me a couple of weeks later. "They want a conference."
I was not in the mood. "Tell them no."
Lew sighed. "You should take a meeting, Bruce. Get it all out in the open, tell her once and for all there is no going back. Maybe Matt can talk some sense in her. It's either that, or drag it through the court. That could take months, believe me, I know."
His divorce was still going on, I think it was almost to the year mark, a record in Florida. His ex, Mona, was a pretty sharp lawyer in her own right, and I know it had been ugly. I met with him one day just after he left court, and he looked haunted. I took a chance, calling his best friend, Bill Maitland. He showed up forty minutes later and we got him into the car, going straight to O'Brien's. O'Brien took one look at us, grabbed a dusty bottle off the shelf, and walked us into a quiet corner.
"Here, me boyos, you'll be needing this." Fifty year old scotch, smooth as silk, with a punch that could knock a mule down. We killed the bottle. Bill had just finished up a rough divorce, and was still feeling the pain. God, I hoped I wasn't as wrung out as they were when mine was over. Bill raised his glass in salute as we finished the bottle. "To bitter endings, and sweet beginnings." We all raised our glass. I'd never heard a more apt toast. He told me later it was an old Irish saying.
I semi-stumbled up to the bar to pay, and Pat waved me off. "He's a good lad, Mr. Davis, with a fine wife. They worshipped the ground each walked on for years. Then they found out she couldn't conceive, and things went south. Both were in pain, and when he found solace in work, she had an affair with of all people his business partner. It went on for a year before he discovered them. It's been a very difficult time for both. She realised what she was losing, and is fighting tooth and nail to keep him. He's been hurt too bad, and even though he loves her desperately, he'll never take her back."
"What happened to the partner?"
O'Brien grinned. "Oh, they dissolved the partnership, and he went out on his own, continuing in his philandering ways. He finally seduce a girl almost half his age, which REALLY offended someone, and woke up one day with virtually every bone in his body broken. He was in a full body cast for eight months, and as soon as he could walk he left town. I hear he's in Portland, or somewhere else on the West Coast. Good riddance, that."
I looked at Lew as Maitland helped him to his feet, wondering if he was capable of such violence. I had been in martial arts for twenty years, and fought professionally for two, so I knew how destructive a human could be with a little training. Bill and Lew climbed in to the back of an unmarked cop car, and drove away. I turned to find a cab waiting for me, with a message from Maitland. "Thanks for helping my friend. He needed it badly today. If you ever need a favor, give me a call. The cab is paid for, and he'll take you anywhere you want to go."
I went home, took a semi-cold shower to humanize myself, and crashed. I was just about asleep when the phone rang. I answered groggily, and heard nothing. "Hello? Hello?" Then I heard it, ragged breathing with just a hint of a sob. "Tiffany?"
The line immediately went dead. I thought about calling her, but knew she wouldn't answer. It took me a long time to go to sleep.
I called Lew that afternoon. "Set it up."
................
Lew coached me remorselessly. "Let me do the talking. DO NOT let her drag you into a dialogue, and under NO circumstances speak to or answer a question from her lawyer. Do you understand?"
I did.
Our plan went down the tubes as soon as we entered a large conference room, to find it overflowing with lawyers and associates. Lew raised his eyebrow at Matt and he had the decency to blush.
Mort Bailey started the offensive immediately. "Young man, do you know who I am?"
Of course, I knew who he was, but I wanted to yank his chain. "I'm going out on limb, and this is just a guess. A really old lawyer?"
He went deep red and his partners looked strickened, and one paralegal had to turn to hide a grin. Lew looked shocked before he grinned.
"Good observation, Mr. Davis. This...gentleman...is Mort Bailey, one of the founders of this firm."
"Really? I thought they all died years ago. He's got to be what, a hundred now?"
Mr. Bailey was not amused. In his sternest voice, he started speaking. "You can stop being juvenile now, Mr. Davis. You're making me wonder why Tiffany wants to fight so hard to save the marriage. Now you listen to me, and listen well. You will drop this silly proceding. You will return home to your loving family. You will go through counseling for as long as it takes to reslove your differences, and I will expect a heartfelt thank you when we cross paths again. Our firm is willing to defray all expenses for the counseling, as a gesture of good faith."
Lew was openly smiling. "Jesus, Mort, this isn't some kid who took your car joyriding. And your gesture of good faith is just a blatant attempt to cover your ass if this goes to trial. We have pictures, a lot of pictures, taken by cameras with very good resolution. Think your firm's reputation will be intact if we expose the bacchanal your 'company vacation' turned into? I hope you say no to our proposals, I've been waiting nine years to shove something up that pompous ass of yours, and you gave it to me on a silver platter."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

I thought the old guy was going to have a heart attack. I couldn't help it, and laughed as I stood up.

"Are all these people lawyers and paralegals? They're all so attractive. Well, except for Marge. It looks like you got them from central casting. Did you contract a talent agency to fill spaces? This was supposed to be a simple meeting between me, my wife, her lawyer, and mine. It was not supposed to be a planned performance. Your shock and awe routine isn't cutting it. And why is Big Dick and The Bitch here? Man, that sure has a ring, doesn't it? Maybe they can take their act on the road. And The Bitch is not supposed to be within five hundred feet of me. You should know, since you're the ones that got her twisted ass out of jail. Maybe I need to call the cops. Instead, I think Lew and I will just leave. I never was a fan of the circus.
Here's the deal. Two weeks, just Matt, Tiffany, Lew, and myself. No one else. If I find her mother anywhere close, It'll be four more weeks. I'd ask you if you understood, but I really don't give a fuck. Coming, Lew?"
You could have heard a pin drop when we left. We were halfway to the elevator before two associates and a paralegal caught up with us, first demanding and them pleading for us to come back. We didn't answer and they gave up when we got to the elevator. We made it inside before Lew collapsed in laughter. I just grinned as he spoke. "I was just going to give them a gentle screwing, and you fly up and fuck them in the ass." I just smiled, the image of Tiffany crying softly still in my head.
The weeks went by, and the meeting was to take place at four that afternoon. It wasn't going to be at either office, we decided on neutral ground and rented a small conference room at a local convention center. Lew warned the firm several times that if anything funny occurred, all talks were over. He specifically warned Stephen Middleton and Marge to be nowhere near. Lew had even gone as far as hiring private security just for safety. They were the ones who spottted Marge and Big Dick. Lew was warned and had 911 pulled up. He spoke quickly into the phone. "My client and I are on our way to a conference at the Westin Convention Center, and there is a woman with a restraining order against her waiting to accost him. Please send an officer."
We walked a little more slowly, and once even stopped for a few minutes, talking. "What are you doing?"
"Stalling. I want the cops close when she surprises us. Ready?"
I nodded. We had just reached the front of the building when she came charging out. "You bastard! Leave Tiffany alone! You'll not see a cent of her money, I guarantee that! You hearing me, asshole?"
She was literally foaming at the mouth. I smiled. "I'm sorry, Marge. All the cocksucking you've done over the years must have damaged your vocal cords. I can't quite understand what you're saying. You're so wallowed out I bet one could ram his cock up your ass and another down your throat, and not hit a thing until they touched. Sucked any good lawyer dick lately? Or have they shuffled you to the side, in favor of younger pussy that they can actually feel?"
Her face went from red to white to purple. She was almost foaming at the mouth. "You asshole! Stephen is going to kick your ass and take Tiffany in front of you. How do you like that?" She swung at me, and I could have easily avoided or blocked it, but I did nothing. Everyone on the street could hear the sound of her palm against my face.
"Music to my ears," I grinned, as the cops pulled her down, kicking and screaming. She was stuffed into a squad car and bound for jail in three minutes, especially after Lew showed them a copy of the restraining order. I looked around for Middleton, but he had crawled under a rock somewhere. Lew sent a text to Matt Henry, a full video, with a message.
"You were warned. I'm afraid the conference is canceled, you and your client are going to be busy anyway, trying to get her mother out of jail. We'll call, but it won't be soon."
..................
Tiffany sat in shock as Matt raged. "Why did you let her do it? Your mother was never very stable in my opinion, and she's transferred all the hate she had for her ex onto Bruce. She's going to keep it up until she gets into serious trouble, trouble the best law firm in the world can't get her out of. Seriously, Tiffany, your mother needs professional help. We're obviously not going to meet with Lew and Bruce, so let's go see what we can do for your mother. Hold on just a second while I make a phone call, get yourself together, and I'll be back as soon as I'm done."
He answered on the second ring. "Stephen Middleton." He held the phone away from his ear, the voice was so loud. "You dumbass! What were you thinking? You had specific instructions to stay away, and you brought her mother, knowing about the restraining order. They have you on tape, talking to her just minutes before the altercation, and footage of you slinking off when the cops turned up. The partners are not going to be happy with you, not at all."
"You could not tell them."
Matt laughed. "I don't think so. I worked too hard to reach where I am to screw it up because some pussyhound can't keep from sniffing around a married woman. You better pucker up, big boy. I see a lot of asskissing in your future."
Matt walked back into the room to see Tiffany with her head ont he table, crying. He gently helped her up and she fell into his arms, sobbing. "Why, Matt? How did everything get so far out of control? I just wanted him to grow a set of balls, teach him to quit fooling around and grow up."
Matt sighed. "Well, you got part of your wish. I don't think he grew a set, honey. I think he whipped King Kong's ass and took his. You threatened his manhood, honey, the worst thing you can do to a man. Of course he's going to lash out, if he has any pride at all. You need to face reality, Tiffany. You're probably not going to get him back. Now, what do you want to do about your mother?"
Tiffany sighed. "Call Mort, and let him handle it. She may have just killed any chance I had at saving my marriage, and I really don't want to see her right now."
"Ah...Tiffany, I know it's not my place, but you know I've always cared for you. You're like a niece to me, so I need to say this. Your mother needs help, serious help. She's starting to get out of control, and once again, if she keeps pushing Bruce, she'll end up in jail, and not just overnight. Think about it."
................
Stephen Middleton was smiling as he entered the office. Hopefully, today's events had created such a rift in Tiffany's attempt to reconcile with her husband that the divorce was inevitable. He wanted Tiffany, wanted her badly. She was beautiful, had a great ass, and he knew she would burn the sheets up if he ever got her in the sack. Her tits were a bit small, but he was sure that if he had enough time he could talk her into a boob job. Of course, she did have the two brats, but he was already sucking up to them. Best of all, even if her husband got half her money, she was worth millions, and the future couldn't look any brighter. Her company was making money hand over fist, and she was getting a large chunk of it.
The receptionist stopped smiling whens he saw him, then broke into a big grin. "Mr. Bailey would like to see you, now. I'll call and tell him you're on the way up."
She grinned as he walked away. He did have a charming manner and an exceptionally large cock, and she had enjoyed the sex tremendously. But after he'd fucked her a couple of times he lost interest and started pursuing someone else. On reflection, she considered herself lucky. The poor woman he was after now was in for heartbreak, if she left her husband for him. It almost made her want to warn her, but she was also a bit of a self absorbed bitch. And that mother, she was certifiable. Maybe they all deserved each other.
Stephen pasted on his confident smile as he stroke into the inner sanctum. Wilson Wilkes was there, and neither were smiling. "Mr. Baliey, Mr. Wilkes, how can I be of service to you and the firm this fine day?"
Wilkes spoke first. "You can stop chasing married women, especially those not directly in the firm. The husband may not have diddly for resources, but he's got some powerful new friends. Friends that could make life for everyone in the firm very difficult."
Mort spoke up. "Listen to him, Stephen. It's pretty much a done decision about her divorce, so hang back, and don't add fuel to the fire. You well know our firm has a history of 'emtangling allainces', so we've basically kept a blind eye to your activities. However, now that someone else is looking, you have to be on your best behavior. Are we clear here?"
"I understand, sir. You can count on me."
"Arrogant assholes! Mind your own fucking business! When I get hold of some money, I'll start my own firm, and make our speciality kicking your fossilized asses." Stephen continued to rant and fume to himself all the way to his office. He calmed when he opened his computer, and looked at the screensaver. Tiffany, in all her glory, in a very small bikini. He remembered the wardrobe malfuction while she was learning to surf, and the feel of her hard nipple as he cupped her breast. She seemed shocked, but it still took her a few seconds to remove his hand and retie her top. He almost had her then, until her oldest cried out from the beach. She pushed away, gently, and swam to shore. Then, at the club, he danced away from the group, out onto a small balcony. They had both been drinking hard, and she didn't fight him when he kissed her, or after a few minutes when he put her hand on his hard cock. She gasped a little at the size, moving her hand slowly up and down the length. He was about to push her to her knees when another couple drunkenly stumbled out, giggled at her with her dress popped open, her breasts hanging free, and her hand on his monster. "Lucky girl," said the woman, before backing out.
She had jumped away and covered herself, and was subdued the rest of the evening. The next day she waved her rings under his nose. "I want you, Stephen, God knows I do. But as long as I wear these rings it will never happen. I've already lead you on, and I apologize. Please respect me on this."
He was furious, but put on a bland smile, sucked up to her kids, and gently derided her husband every chance he got. He almost broke out in his happy dance when she collapsed into his arms at the airport. It was just a matter of time.
............
A month later, Tiffany, Matt , Lew and I sat in a small conference room with Judge Katherine Holden. A respected jurist, she was asked to mediate the meeting, in an attempt to keep the parties calm and seek the best solution.
Lew wasn't pleased with the choice. "This has Mort Bailey's fingerprints all over it. He may have gotten her here, but I've been in front of her a couple of dozen times. She's sharp as a tack, as well as being fair. The down side is she's a hopeless romantic, so she's inclined to root for happy endings. We need to be on our toes."
The Judge heard the whole story, and the history behind what brought it about. Personally she was shocked. The young woman was attractive, extremely smart, goal oriented, and used to succeeding. The husband was more calm, not seemingly ambitious at all, but she caught the glimmer in his eye and knew he would bear watching. Katherine was a little shocked to see the way the marriage operated, but until a year or so back it seemed fine. The vacation seemed to finally trigger a change. After hearing both sides, she was sure it could no longer exist in it's current state.
"This is the most unusual set of circumstances I've ever encountered. Mrs. Davis, honestly, I don't understand your logic. Mr. Davis, I'm not sure what to make of your passive acceptance of the situation for as long as you have."
She stopped to push up her reading glasses. She was really attractive for her age, and was supposed to be in an on again, off again relationship with another senior Judge. I wished them well.
"Mr. Davis, I hear you are adamantly against counseling. I even understand your logic. But I've never seem such a mismatched couple who are obviously still in love. Your resolve almost breaks every time you look at her, and Mrs. Davis, it's plain to all you want your husband back. Now, it's my job to find resolution in situations like this, so Mr. Davis, I'd like ask this as a favor. Go and talk to someone, individually and as a couple. Air it out, and if you see no other way, when you go before me in court I'll approve the divorce. I'm not talking long term, maybe one individual session each, and three joint. Do both individual sessions one week, and the three joint sessions once weekly until you're done. Four weeks, Mr. Davis, not a lot in the grand scheme of things. It will be over before you know it and I'd look more favorably on granting the divorce, knowing you'd made one last effort. I'll even say please."
I was about to blow up, while Tiffany looked hopeful. Lew and Matt both leaned forward. Matt was quick to speak. "Do it, Bruce. Believe me, it will help."
Lew, who was still being forced to attend what was considered a marathon of counseling sessions, wasn't as keen. "Or, you could bog down into a never ending river of bullshit. However, IF they sign a binding agreement that once the sessions are done they're done and can only proceed if Bruce agrees, I think you should go along with it."
I think everyone was shocked when I agreed. Tiffany had a huge smile on her face. I could tell she was firmly convinced she had me back. I hoped she was ready for what was really going to happen.
..................
The Judge took the choice of counselors out of our hands, saying if she picked neither could claim bias. Martha Jones was maybe ten years older than us, mid-forties I'd say, and had been practicing for almost twenty years, with a stellar reputation. Her only agenda, she had assured us, was finding resolution, no matter what she personally thought should happen.
I went first, and I thinks she thought I was lying when I told her about our life. I told the whole story of our relationship from the start. She made a few general observations at the end. "You must have really loved her a lot to live like you have. Tell me, in your opinion, being as honest as possible, do you think you're a good writer? It seems a lot of your problems stem from your passion, and you're determination to continue."
I didn't like the answer I gave her, but I needed to be honest. "To look at my track record, the facts would disagree, but I am in fact a good writer. I just happen to be a good writer that hasn't yet written a good book. It's that conviction thay keeps me trying. Tiffany knew about my dreams, and even encouraged me the first few years, but as she rose through the ranks and the money started getting better, she openly resented it. She told me more than once to stop chasing something I would never catch and do somethign positive with my life. I just can't give up the dream, and maybe I never will."
"Honest enough. Thank you for your time, Mr. Davis. Remember, your first couples appointment is on Thursday of next week. Please see my receptionist on your way out."
"Thank you, Dr. Jones."
It was one of the things I admired about her. She had early in her career decided to always keep things professional, so she always addressed her clients as Mr. and Mrs., and insisted they address her as Dr. Jones. "I'm not here to be your friend, I'm here to be your guide. I want you to keep it in the back of your mind that this is a professional relationship, and should be treated with the gravity it deserves."
I couldn't agree more.
...............
Tiffany looked around the office nervously. It had taken four months, but she felt like she finally had a chance to reclaim her husband. She knew she had to proceed slowly, with caution. This was too important to her to screw up, besides, she had actually accomplished what she set out to do when she left Bruce behind for a month. He definitely had grown a set of balls and she wondered how hard he would be to handle in the future. Sure she could bring him around she smiled, happy she would be getting her life back.
It took only twenty minutes for Dr. Jones to crack her confidence. Before she spoke, Dr. Jones gave her a rundown of her session with Bruce, pausing when she was done and looking at Tiffany closely. "Was he lying?"
It all sounded so unfair the way she described it. "Bruce is a lot of things, Dr. Jones, but a liar isn't one of them. Yes, our realtionship is pretty much as he described it."
"You make roughly eight to ten times what your husband does, yet he pays almost all of the bills. Does this sound balanced to you?"
Tiffany sighed. "You don't understand. The man is supposed to support his family, and he has no claim on my money. It was what we agreed on."
"It sounds to me like it was a lot more agreeable to you than it was to him. What were your financial responsibilites?"
"I kept the family clothed, and paid for all extras."
"Like vacations?"
She sighed. "Yes, Dr. Jones, like vacations. I'm sure Bruce told you about my leaving him behind for a month for a vacation in the islands. Yes, it was unfair, and yes, it was deliberate, and yes, I said many hurtful things to him before I left. But I did it for a reason. I wanted to shock him out of his childish dream of being a writer, and make him enter the real world. He's not an idiot, Dr., he could excel at anything if he applied himself."
"So your idea of motivation was to rub his lack of financial resources in his face, making him stay at home while you frolicked on vacation, leaving him with the idea you may or may not take a lover while you were gone? Really, Mrs. Davis, does this sound like reasonable behavior for a married woman?"
"It sounds like the behavior of a desperate women, one who wanted her husband to make her proud of him again. After I realized my mistake, I did send him a ticket so he could join us. His stubborn pride wouldn't let him come."
"So then, you admit you lost your respect for him? You and the rest of your family flew first class, yet you send him a ticket for coach, with a nasty note for him to quit whining. You really expected him to come? He says you asked several times what it would take to heal the rift before it got to this point. When he told you to prove your love and come home, you refused every time. Why would you do that if you knew your relationship was in serious trouble? By your own admission you are quite wealthy, it would have been nothing for you to fly home, settle your differences, and go on a nice family vacation later. Why didn't you do what he asked?"
For the first time during the sessions she lost her temper. "Because he doesn't own me! I'm my own woman, and I can do as I see fit. He NEEDED this lesson, and I had suffered long enough to give it to him. I was ashamed when he accompanied me to company functions. I was too mortified to introduce him as a video store manager, so I said he was a novelist, working on a book. When pressed for what he'd written, I told them he hadn't been published, yet. After three years that got old. I wanted him to be proud of being my husband, and show his love by becoming a man of the real world, instead of living in his head."
"So you think he was no longer a fit partner for someone of your stature?"
"Yes. NO! I don't know exactly. I still love him and this separation has been horrible. I've never been so lonely in my life. And believe me, Dr., there have been quite a few successful, reasonably handsome men who have offered to console me. I've even been tempted once or twice. But I have remained faithful. Why can't we go back to the way things were?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"You mean like it was before the vacation? You not respecting him, cutting him out of your life and the lives of your chldren while you go away without him? I'm afraid you can't unring that bell, Mrs. Davis, and it may well be the death knell of your marriage. Did you really think he would remain the same after you walked out while he practically begged you to stay? You both have told me one of your intentions was to force him to grow a set of balls, and now you're not satisfied that he has. What exactly DO you want, Mrs. Davis?"

Tiffany finally lost it. "I WANT A MAN WHO'S MY EQUAL. A PROUD, SUCCESSFUL, CONFIDENT MAN, ONE THAT ISN'T INTERESTED IN MY MONEY."
Dr. Jones realized she had reached a crossroads. "So then, your declared objective is never allowing him access to anything you have. Why? Tell me, of all the married friends and business associates you know well, how many have an arrangement like the one you and your husband share? A lot? A little? My guess would be none."
She changed gears suddenly keeping Tiffany off balance. "Tell me about your parents. Did you have a good home life growing up? Did your father teach you about responsibility, while your mother taught you love?"
"My father was a flaming asshole, who left my mother when I was small, deeply in debt, after emptying the bank accounts."
"So then, so you think all men are like that. Is Bruce like that?"
"No, Bruce isn't like that. Then again, I'm never giving him a chance to touch what I've earned."
"Is that why you are so adamant that he pay the bills? Who are you punishing here, Bruce or your father?"
The realization hit her like a bucket of ice water, and she fainted. When she woke, though, she was more determined than ever to keep things as they were.
Martha Jones reviewed her notes after she left, frowning. This was going to end badly, no doubt in her mind. Her best hope was to get Mrs. Davis into long term counseling when it was over. Maybe it would save her next husband a world of grief.
...............
I sighed as I walked into Dr. Jones' office. This was the third and last one, thank God. The first two had been disasters. Tiffany couldn't see very much wrong with her behavior and attitude. She was upset that I was upset, she wanted me to come home and let her love me over my hurts.
"Tiffany honey, you're the hottest woman I've ever known. Honestly, I know I'll probably never find someone again of your caliber. I'll miss the loving, no doubt. But we can't live in bed, and still have to deal with real life. I loved you most of my adult life and it'll be a long time, if ever, before I stop loving you. But it's time to move on. I'll never be what you want me to be, and you'll never change. We'll never be as one. You'll maintain rigid control over your money, and there will always be a piece of you I'll never have. It's like you've always kept a pair of running shoes in your closet, next to the high heels, and you'll always be ready at a moment's notice to don them and take off. It might happen the next time I disappoint you, and don't live up to your expectations. Yes, I'm sure we'll be better, for a while, but sooner or later we'll go right back to the way we were. Let's stop the cycle now, try to move on. Let's raise our children to be happy, productive people at whatever they endeavor, able to deal with disappointment and struggle in their lives."
Dr. Jones joined the conversation. "Mrs. Davis, this is the last session. If I thought there was the slightest chance for a happy ending, I'd push the Judge for more sessions. But you two are so far apart on expectations now I have serious doubts any reconciliation would be short term. I'm going to recommend that the Judge let the divorce proceed. I know it hurts now, but down the road you'll see the it was the right decision. I'm sorry things didn't work out for you two, really. I can see the love in both of you, but it's just not enough any more."
Tiffany set a new high in lows with her rant, shreiking, and she actually foamed at the mouth once or twice. "You just had to try to own me, didn't you? Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! Get your divorce, wallow in lonliness while I wallow in the throes of passion with a real man with an exceptionally large cock. Forget about the children, it'll be a cold day in hell before you see them again. I'm sure between me and Mom we can educate them in the ways of men. They will grow up to be strong independent women, beholden to no man. Forget about my money, I'll donate it all before I give you a cent. I think I'll sue you for child support. Go to hell, you bastard!"
She finally wound down, realized at least part of what she said, put her hand over her mouth and started sobbing. She'd hit me hard with her threats, and I stood. "I'm sorry, Dr. Jones. I know half the session is left, but I think you'll agree we're done here. I thought this would be a monumental waste of time, but I learned a few things about myself, Tiffany, and the state of my marriage. Unpleasant things, on the whole. Thank you, sincerely."
I walked out while Tiffany sobbed, and Dr. Jones called out to me. Three days later I got the court date.
..............
Tiffany didn't respond nearly as well to the therapy as I hoped. She went to defcon 4, a totally nuclear attack that surprised almost everyone.
"This is absolute bullshit, but it will help us in the long run. Child support, maintenance, what are those fossils thinking? I can't believe Matt went along with this. He has to know what a huge can of worms it will allow us to open." Lew looked at me hard. "Bruce, I want you to swear to me if we start this you'll stay the course. Seriously, if you think there's any way you guys may reconcile, we can stop now. If not, It's all out war. They're dumb enough to walk into this with their eyes closed. I'm going to really enjoy opening them to the real world."
"I'm serious. Make if public, make it hurtful, and make it expensive. She should have never gotten the restraining order keeping me away from my kids."
I was beyond furious when I was served. I never though Tiffany would try to poison my relationship with the girls. I strongly suspected Marge talked her into it while she was in a weakened emotional state. Lew assured me he would get it rescinded, but it would take time.
Lew, with Matt backing him, made one more try to head things off before it got to the really ugly stage. "Let it go, Tiffany. It's too far gone, too much hurt has been spread, for either of you to go back. Give him a decent settlement, write him off, and get on with your life."
She looked at him like he'd grown two heads. "You're my fucking lawyer, remember? Do your best, and I expect good things."
He just sighed and hung his head. Lew gave it a try.
"Please, Mrs. Davis, I'm begging you here. If we go to court, it all becomes a matter of public record. Years from now, your children may read the transcripts, and realize how hard it was on you both. Let's let everybody retain their dignity." The rant she went on was epic.
The action lasted four days, got national coverage, and made us both look pathetic. After the second day, a cartoonist came out with a panel that ended up in the New Yorker, after it was over, attached to a detailed article. The cartoon was a caricature of both, me as a mouse with a lion's head, her as what I think was supposed to be an eagle, with huge claws and an exagerated beak. The cation read "SUPERWIMP VS ALPHA WITCH, THE MOUSE ROARS!." When it was almost over, and the disclosure about vehicles had been made, they showed a picture of her house, the garage bays open, all her vehicles gleaming, side by side with my old dirty Volkswagen in the parking lot of the apartment building. Public opinion was definitely in my favor.
It was a cool December morning when we walked into the courtroom for the last time. Lew almost did cartwheels when he saw who was sitting on the bench. Katherine Holden had been involved in a car crash and was out on medical leave and sitting on the bench was a man, Judge Herman Herring. Normally a criminal court judge, he had presided over some of the most intensive cases in Florida history. He traveled almost exclusively with his baliff/bodygard, a huge black man who was also an excon, and totally devoted to the Judge. We found out later that he did it as a favor for Katherine, and she had to do some pretty interesting things to make it up to him.
"He's known as the 'Hanging Judge', but I've never met a more principled man. He's also still smarting over his own divorce, three years later. She really tried to do a number on him, but the legal profession closed ranks on him, exposing her lover as a mid level drug dealer, and implicating her in his business. She walked away with a third of what she was expecting, and spent most of that on legal fees. She left town broke, and rumor has it she's chosen the world's oldest profession to pay her rent."
The Judge called us to order, and looked out at the packed courtroom. Lew had judiciously spread rumors that this may be a landmark case, an almost destitute husband divorcing his rich wife and seeking a fair division of assets. There were a lot of reporters, and many from the legal field, aware of the blood feud between Lew and Martin, Devon, Bailey, and Bartley. I was surprised to see Bill Miatland's exwife in attendance. I wondered if she was getting pointers for her next husband.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, it occurs to me there is quite a bit of interest in this case. I want no outbursts, no comments, and no disturbances. This is a simple divorce case like thousands of others that are happening in this country as we speak. Now, opening statements."
Matt Henry tried his best, but he had a dog of a case. It all started coming apart when Lew called Tiffany to the stand. He looked at her after she settled in, with real sympathy in his eyes. "Mrs. Davis, do you agree with the estimation of your net worth?"
"Yes." The word was said flatly, with no emotion. I knew it was going to be hard for her to control that hot temper of hers, and it wouldn't take Lew long to trigger it off.
"Do you agree with the estimation of your husband's net worth?" She nodded.
"Then why are you fighting so hard to deny him his fair due? He was married to you for eight years. Tell me, even with the large difference in your incomes, who made the house payments?"
"Bruce did. But I made the downpayment."
"Noted. Who paid the power, the cable, those sort of things?"
"He did."
'Why?"
For the first time she looked defiant. "Because it was his responsibility as the husband."
"So then. You made eight times his salary a year on average. What were your responsibilites in the mariage. What did you do with your money?"
"I took care of my girls, paid the college fees, and any other incidentals that arose."
"Did that include vacations?"
Tiffany knew where this was going, and knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Matt jumped to his feet, objecting, but the Judge overruled him. "It's a fair question, Mr. Henry. Accounting for the money is a large part of the process in proceedings such as this. Continue, Mr. Walters"
"Do you understand what started this whole thing?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to elaborate?"
"No."
"Well then, let me explain, from my client's viewpoint. You ambushed him with the announcement that you were taking the family on vacation, to Hawaii, for a month, and he was not included unless he could pay his own way, and could arrange the time off with almost no notice. Isn't it true you told him you were deliberately leaving him out, to quote 'teach him a lesson' unquote, and that you may or may not have an affair while you were gone?"
"It wasn't like that at all!"
"Please, then, Mrs. Daivs, enlighten us. What actually did occur between you and your husband?"
"I knew it was cruel, but I needed to teach him a lesson. He wasn't holding up his end of the marriage, working a dead end job while chasing a ridiculous dream. This was supposed to be a wake up call, to motivate him."
"Well, that didn't go as planned, now did it? You barely communicated with him while you were gone, repeatedly denied him the chance to talk to his children. It was only the threat of divorce that forced you into action. Yes, you sent him a ticket, business class, while the rest of the family had traveled first class, again knowing he couldn't get the time off from work. You asked him what it would take to heal the growing rift between the two of you, and he asked, no begged, you to come home so you could work on your marriage. Did you come?"
"No." It was more sullen now, but I could see she was bubbling. it wouldn't be long now before she snapped, if Lew kept pushing.
"I'm going to ask you why, a little later. Going back to the threat of having an affair, did you mean it?"
"No! Despite our troubles, I loved my husband."
"So, the whole month you were gone, the parties, the clubs, the beach, you never did anything that would be inappropriate?"
She hesitated, and in a quiet voice admitted she'd done a lot of flirting.
"That was it, just flirting? Well, I can understand that. You were, after all, an unaccompanied beautiful woman in a tropical paradise. Your Honor, my client feared for her fidelity, and had her observed during the vacation. May I share a few photos that may shed some light on her activities while she was on the island partying, while her husband was home, working?"
Matt was up in an instant. "Your Honor! What is he doing? Those pictures were taken illegally, they cannot be allowed to be shown."
"Your honor, no laws were broken. The photos were taken while the subjects were on public property, as were the photographers. There is no right to privacy on public grounds, at least none in Hawaii. These are vital to our case your honor. Additionally, her counsel knew about the photos. We had decided not to bring them into evidence unless we had to. With Mrs. Davis being so evasive, I think it best if they're allowed."
Judge Herring thought for a minute. "All right, I'll allow the photos, but not in open court. We will adjourn to my chambers, for fifteen minutes. That be enough time, Counselor?"
"No, your honor, but we'll take it."
Matt, Lew, Tiffany and I followed the Judge, Tiffany looking like she would faint any minute.
"Well?" Lew handed him a set of 8 X 10 glossies, each more damning than the last. He would not let me see them, and I now understood why. The first was of my family at the beach, the kids playing in the sand while Tiff and Stephen sat in loungers, holding hands. It was a scene of domestic bliss, and the smile on her face was radient. The next was of her and him in the ocean, on a surfboard, waiting for a wave. Her top had either become undone or she removed it, and his hands were cupping the small breasts I had loved for so long as she leaned into him. The next was of them in a darkened club, dancing, wrapped around each other, both of his hands planted firmly on her ass as she snuggled to him. Her dress, what there was of it, was hiked until the bottom of her firm butt was showing, I wanted to hit something, really, really bad. I had to get out, now!
Lew nodded and I bolted, finding myself outside and heaving. I heard the faint echo of her scream as I hurled breakfast on to the sidewalk. Lew gave me a few minutes, and came out with a bottle of cold water. I rinsed my mouth a couple of times before chugging the remainder.
"All right now?"
"No, but I'm calm enough to come back in."
I walked right by her without a glance and resumed my seat.
Lew looked at her with real sadness. "Are you ready to resume?"
She nodded, barely. "Still maintain nothing was out of line?"
"I made mistakes, all right? I was angry and confused and let my guard down. But I never, not once, had sex with anybody while I was there."
"Would you had forgiven him if it was him in the picture with a large chested blond?"
Her eyes flew wide and her anger showed, but she calmed herself. "I honestly don't know, but I'd like to think I would, IF he didn't have sex with her."
"I believe you, Mrs. Davis. Let's go away from the vacation for a minute. What kind of cars do you own?"
"Why is that relevant?"
"Your honor?"
"Answer the question, Mrs. Davis."
" I own a Lexus sedan, a Range Rover, and another luxury SUV for family outings."
How old are they?"
"The Lexus I just bought six months ago, the other two are less than three years old."
"Do you drive anything else?"
"I have a company car, a Land Cruiser."
"Which car does your husband drive?"
"None of them. He has his own car."
"Oh, that's right. He owns a twelve year old Volkswagen, with a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it. Which one does he drive when his is down?"
"None of them. They're mine."
"So when your husbands' vehicle is out of commission, and with three more cars in the driveway, he has to find alternative transportation. Why?"
"Because they're MY cars. If he would get a better job, he could afford a better car."
"Let me distill this down to the basics. What you own is yours exclusively. What money you acquire is yours and never shared, yet he pays living expenses while you bank and invest yours. Am I right?"
"Yes, but..."
"That's all I have at this time your honor. Thank you, Mrs. Davis."
Then it was my turn. Though he sometimes had a look of distaste on his face, Matt savaged me on the stand, asking questions designed to get only one answer. Lew stayed on him, getting more 'overruled' than 'sustained'.
At the summation. Matt painted me as a gold digger waiting for the right opportunity to financially destroy my wife. It sounded a little weak, even to me.
Lew was eloquent and sympathetic to both of us. In the end, though, it was evident that I had a pretty good chance of coming out financially secure, divorce in hand.
"Your Honor, if it had been a woman in this instance, the conclusion would have been foregone before an hour of testimony. She's the breadwinner, and he gave her many good years, never complained about the inordinate difference in their income, paid most of the living expenses while she banked her money. He was the primary care giver to his children, as she often worked erratic hours. He always rearranged his schedule to accomodate her. Please, your honor, give him what's right and what's fair. And remember, this was never about the money, but he deserves a just settlement."
The Judge adjourned court for two hours to consider the case. It was seven at night by the time we all returned. The gallery was packed so badly it was standing room only.
The judge had us stand before him. "Mr. and Mrs. Davis, it's plain that you still love each other. In this case though, I don't believe the rift can be healed. Therefore I will be granting the divorce. Pursuant to the laws of Florida, I award the husband two million dollars, the Range Rover, and sixty-eight hundred a month for a period of three years or until he remarries, should it occur in less than the stated time constraint. Again, you will note that this is fair and in accordance to the laws of this state. Mrs. Davis, you will make arrangements to disburse the settlement to his account within the next thirty days, and surrender the vehicle to him immediately. The first maintenance check will be received one month from today.
Please, Mrs. Davis, be reasonable about this. I would be very displeased if I see you here in a month, for refusing to follow my ruling. And Mr. Davis, use the years wisely, and plan for your future. Court dismissed."
Tiffany fainted and the Judge called for an EMT. He advised Lew and I to be gone before she awoke, so we left.
...............
The case made the front pages of every paper in Florida, the New York Times, The Washington Post, the LA Times and the Chicago Times/Sun, most of all the rest of the major papers across the country, and The Wall Street Journal. The echoing banner was, "Welcome To The Twenty-First Century, Family Law". Most of the papers carried a description of our divorce and the underlying reasons. Somehow, some of the photos were leaked, and Mort's firm ended up with egg on their faces. My favorite was of the last party, a photo showing two couples, not married to each other, in obvious lust. You could just make out a woman on her knees in a dark corner, red high heels sticking out in the light. Marge had always favored red. Tiffany's bosses and the law partners were not happy with the exposure, but they didn't have a leg to stand on. I was willing to bet that company vacations would fall out of favor for quite a while. Rumor had it three more divorces besides ours were directly related to the vacation, and the law firm had to shell out a bundle to keep things quiet.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

Life went on. Tiffany and I lived parallel lives, I'd pick up the girls every other weekend and alternate Thursdays. Judge Herring had the restraining order squashed and removed from public record, giving a stern warning to Social Services for not fully investigating the allegations, and had Mort Bailey appear before the the bar to explain his actions, ending with him being issued a warning. I knew she was dating Middleton. It hurt, but I knew it was inevitable.

It took most of the law firm to get her to let go of the money. Oddly, receiving two million dollars gave me no joy at all. Lew took three hundred grand, just enough to cover his expenses, but then again it wasn't about the money for him either. Sticking it to Mort Bailey was worth more than money, he told me, and besides, his office was swamped with men whose wives were worth considerably more than them, hoping for the same result. He was really selective, and the cases he took he usually won. Most settled out of court upon hearing he was the lawyer of record. He was making money hand over fist, but he still wasn't happy.
He finally got his divorce, and was seriously dating some local woman, extremely attractive, and heir to a multimillion dollar paving company. I hoped he found happiness. I would run into him at O'Brien's now and again. Sometimes we'd share a table, often with Maitland. That man was getting an international reputation over his success with difficult and dangerous cases. I saw his wife, or exwife, once, a stunning blond with an impressive rack.
Apparently lawyers attracted insanely hot women, but then again, rack aside, Tiffany would have held her ground with any of them.
Speaking of hot women with big racks, I started dating an Italian woman, a dark brunette with a spectacular bust. She came into the store one noght with her mother, speaking Italian. I knew the language from my mother, so I addressed them, haltingly, in their language. It broke the ice and I ended up taking her out. One the fifth date, we made love.
Wait, that isn't exactly accurate. Tiffany was the hottest thing I'd ever seen in the bedroom, but Deanna was insane. Nothing was off the table sexually. If I wanted it, she was available. I got my first ever titty fuck from her, and it lived up to everything I thought it would be. We carried on for about three months before things went bad.
Seems she had the Italian temper, and when she started out wanting to nest, talking about children, I knew it was over. She did not take my reasoning well, especially the part about not wanting any more children. It was not a pleasant parting.
Apparently the girls told Tiffany about Deanna, and I got a scathing phone call, the first time we'd spoken in months. "So, you finally screwed a bitch with big tits. Did you ever think of me while you were playing with those floppy mammaries? She'll sag to her knees when she gets a little age on her, while I'll still be pert and bouncy. Of course, you'll never see them again. Then again, twenty years down the road, I may send you a picture."
"Tiffany, is there a point here? You should be happy, riding that big cock you have now. Why won't you leave me alone? I don't need to know anything about you now, especially your sex life. Go back to your big dick and count your blessings. You still have most of your money, and at the rate you're going, you'll have it back and more in a few years. You know, I haven't touched the money. It was never about that. I'll probably give it to the girls when they grow up."
"No, it wasn't about the money, you bastard. it was about owning me. I'm still an independent woman. No matter who I marry later on, there will be an iron clad prenutptial in place. This shit will never happen again. It was a mistake marrying you, knowing how prideful you can be. I'll be a lot more careful next time."
Well, if my heart wasn't already broken, that finished it. " I never once considered marrying you a mistake, Tiff. I loved you with all I had and it just wasn't enough, but I never, up until the last few months, regretting marrying you. Do me a favor, Tiff. Don't talk to me again. I don't think I can take any more hurt from you."
She started crying, trying to apologize, and I gently hung up. I went to O'Brien's, gave him a credit card, telling him to call me a cab when I couldn't drink anymore, and got seriously wasted. I think Lew was there at some point, but I don't remember the night very well. I woke up with the worst hangover of my life, to see three missed calls from Tiffany. I deleted every one of them, and spent the next two days trying to recover.
I had taken some of my maintenance and leased a really nice condo close to the beach, and within walking distance of a lot of shops and restaurants. Each of my girls had a room that I let them decorate. The place had a very nice pool, and we would spend some of each weekend there. I had gotten to know some of the neighbors, and they had made friends with their children. I also got hit on a lot, which irritated me if the kids were there.
Word had gotten out who I was. I always though I was reasonable looking, but I'm here to tell you, two million dollars makes you extremely handsome. There were five or six women there that were reasonably attractive, and I ended up in bed with every one of them at some point. It was fun, but it was just sex, and good as it was, there was no emotion. A couple didn't care, they were just looking after their own needs, but the others, seeing I wasn't interested in a relationship, drifted away.
The girls must have said something to Tiffany, because just before midnight the next weekend, she called. I recognized the sounds of sex immediately, and was treated to a tirade of how hot her lover was, how big his cock was, and how she was ruined, and could never return to a man of normal size like me. The squeals and moans got to me, and I hung up. She called right back. "Don't you dare hang up, you bastard. I want you to hear how a real man satisfies a woman. Your woman. At least I was. Now, I could never go back to a small dicked loser like you. He hits places I didn't know existed, how could I have missed this for so long? I want you to listen, asshole, because if it wasn't for your pride this would still be yours. AHHHHH...!" I'd loved her long enough to know she was having a massive orgasm. I didn't hang the phone up, I threw it against the wall with enough force to shatter it.
The next night she called again. I didn't break the phone, I just hung up and pulled the battery out, and tried to sleep. The next night, when she called, I was ready. "You need to stop this shit. I'm serious, Tiffany. Do it again, and you won't like what happens."
I hung up, and she called right back. I hit the record app on my phone, put it in the spare bedroom, and went to bed. I listened to a little the next day, and was beyond pissed when Big Dick got in on the conversation. "I knew I'd get her eventually, you pathetic piece of shit. I'd have had her while we were on vacation if you hadn't fucked it up. I've been banging her since two hours after you left divorce court. It took me a little time, but I've got her used to me now." He paused, obviously moving the phone, and I could hear slurping noises. "Hear that, loser? She can almost take it all now, and vows to get it down her throat if it takes her years. I can wait." There was a pause, and I heard Tiffany squeal. "That's it baby, squirt it all over my face! Mark me!"
I went to Lew, and the feral look he had on his face made me almost reconsider. "I'll handle it. She'll never do that again, I promise."
.........
"This has to be bad," Tiffany thought, as she was summoned to the office of her CEO. She wondered what it was about. By now it was 2009, and the real estate market was starting to show cracks. The easy deals were starting to get rarer, and people in the industry were starting to get edgy. Luckily, it was mostly the family home market, but still, everyone was nervous.
She was ushered right in, surprised to see Mort Bailey. He and her boss were brothers-in-law, and his firm was heavily vested in her company. She blanched a little when she saw Stephen. Things had become a little strained after the phone calls. He was becoming more and more demanding, and she honestly was a little tired of him. If if wasn't for his magic cock, he would have probably already been gone.
Things did not go well. They played a recording, and she recognized it instantly. God, it sounded so tawdry! Why in the world did she think it had been a good idea? She knew why, though, even after everything she still missed Bruce, and the thoughts of him with someone else made her insanely angry.
She was crying in shame at the end, while Stephen looked defiant. Her boss spoke.
"We just received this from his lawyer this morning. He's threatening a lawsuit and to put it on Facebook, identifying who you and your lover are, unless we can stop you from doing it again. Tiffany, you're my top performer, and I've always liked you, up until the divorce. You've been erratic since, but I put it down to a period of adjustment. Listen to me well, Tiffany. Much as I love you, if you keep up this behavior, I'll let you go. The market is too volitile right now to have this kind of publicity. What you do in the privacy of your own home is your business, but when it gets to possibly harming our businesses, it becomes ours. Look me in the eye, and promise me it will never happen again. Personally, I can't reconcile the woman I've known all these years to the shrew on these recordings. If you need counseling, the company will be glad to provide it, for as long as you need, at no cost to you. But whatever it takes, you need, simply put, to get your shit together. Am I clear here?"
"Absolutely, sir, and I apologize. It will never happen again."
"Thank you Tiffany. You may go now. Mr. Middleton, please stay."
After Tiffany left, the room was quiet for a few minutes, until Mort exploded. "You screaming idiot! What the fuck were you thinking, exposing the firm like that!"
Stephen looked a little contrite and a little defiant. "I wasn't thinking, sir. We'd had a few drinks and it was what she wanted to do. Honestly, I thought it was a hoot to torture her ex. I never once thought he'd record it, much less threaten to release it. You have my assurances it will never happen again. If push comes to shove, we can block the recording from being released."
"Damn straight it won't. Effective immediately, you are no longer associated with any account Tiffany's firm has with us, at their request. It wouldn't have mattered, I'd have removed you anyway. Now, I think the best thing to do is transfer you. I understand you speak fluent Spanish so I'm assigning you to the Tampa office. And Stephen, a word of advice. You're a good lawyer, but you think too much with your dick. You may want to polish off your resume. Your actions have made it impossible for us to ever offer you a partnership. Do you understand? As for blocking the recording, you're the one who sent it to him, dumbass. You gave it to him and there's nothing legally we can do. Go. NOW! "
Stephen, seething, agreed. What choice did he have? He was being sent as far away as possible and still be in the same state. His chances of partnership was in ruins, and though Tiffany had good pussy, it wasn't worth the cost. Fuck those old fossils. There were better firms out there. It might take a while, but he'd hook up with one, and show them, by God! Stephen Middleton was not a man to be trifled with.
He was surprised to see Tiffany waiting. "How did it go?"
"Not good. I'm being shipped off to Tampa, and told I would never be offered a partnership."
She put her hand on his arm in sympathy. "I'm sorry, Stephen. I know how much you wanted that."
Her words encouraged him. Maybe he could salvage something out of this mess. After all, the bitch was still rich. He'd never love her, he fucked her as a challenge, just to see if he could, but the money would be a nice consolation prize. "Don't worry, I'll weather the storm. If nothing else, I still have you. Tampa isn't THAT far away."
She took her hand off his arm and looked sad. "I'm sorry, Stephen, but I won't be seeing you anymore. There's just too much history, and while I love having you around, especially in the bedroom, I don't love you. So, go to Tampa, or wherever, and make a name for yourself. Remember me fondly. I will you."
What! The bitch was breaking up with him? Fuck that! Stephen Middleton did the dumping, not the other way around. "You don't mean that, honey! It will be long distance, but we can make it work."
"No, Stephen, we can't. We can't because I don't want it to. We had our time, but it's over. Please don't make this ugly. Let it go."
By then she had gotten into the little Lexus sports car, and was eye level with his crotch. He grabbed his dick, almost shoving it in her face.
"You can really walk away from this? What happens down the road when nothing else but size will satisfy you?"
Tiffany grinned, finally finding some humor. "I''ll do what I always do, even when I was married to Bruce, and sleeping with you. You never saw my toy collection, did you? I have some very, VERY nice equipment. It's how I managed to take you without hurting at first. I practiced, a lot. Goodbye, Stephen."
She drove away, and he could have sworn she was laughing.
Someone did laugh, and he looked down, realizing he had literally been left holding his dick.
Fuming and deciding he needed a drink, he drove aimlessly until he found himself in front of O'Brien's. They never went there, Tiffany avoided it because she knew it was a favorite of her exhusband. It pleased him a little, thinking about that. Stupid bitch still loved him, but her pscho mother had her so fucked up she couldn't express it. I hope the little bastard is here, he thought as he got out of his sports car, I'm primed to fuck someone up, and it would be a bonus if it was him.
.........
I was at O'Brien's again, this time with Vic Fleming, a co-owner, along with Henry Clark of an upscale, boutique ad agency. It was a highly respected firm, and I had wandered into their world quite by accident. I was a regional manager for Blockbuster by them, ten stores including two in Georgia. I had to travel once or twice a month,that I always scheduled for the weeks I didn't have the girls, but it was a twenty-five percent bump in pay and included a company car, a midsized Lincoln.
I realized I wanted more out of my life, and I wanted to better provide for my girls. I met Vik at one of the stores, and he was fuming into the phone. I asked if he wanted to see a list of the newest releases, and he suddenly started, looking at me closely. I'd told him once I was a writer, and he remembered. To shorten a long story, one of his writers had gotten busted for drugs the day before they were going to pitch a crucial ad campaign to a new client. He asked me to step in, and I did my best, personally thinking it was trite and old hat, sleeping two hours and deliviering it at eight the next morning. For some odd reason he thougt it was great, and paid me five hundred, cash, on the spot. Five hundred for about three hours of actual work. It was my turn to be impressed.
I ended up working with them part time, making about twice my salary at Blockbuster. We had met tonight for a reason. It occurred to me how proud Tiffany would be of me. He wanted me to go full time, offering me a ten percent stake in the company, to be vested at two percent a year. At the end of the term, he wanted me to manage the agency and let him and his partner go into semi-retirement. It was an outstanding offer, and I couldn't understand why he was doing it.
"You don't realize it, but you're the hottest thing in advertising in this part of Florida in years. People are starting to notice your work. We've tried to keep your identity a secret, so others don't swoop in, but sooner of later someone will figure out who you are, and come after you. This is a preemptive strike, to avoid that. You'll never in your life get a better offer, Bruce. Consider it for a few days, and get back to us. Now, let me give you your next assignment."
We were deep into discussing what the new client wanted, and I didn't notice when he walked in. Middleton noticed me though, charging across the room, screaming at me when he got close. It didn't really register until he was almost on me, and I turned in the bar stool. He was swinging, and I didn't have time to react properly, so I flinched back as much as I could. Stephen was wearing some kind of man bling, and I felt the groove it cut in my cheek. The force swiveled me around and I went went it, rolling off of the stool.
I had gone back to the dojo, working out several times a week. I even helped train their fighters, until the sensei asked me into the office. "I'm sorry Bruce, but I'm taking you off the training team."
"Why?"
"Because frankly, they're all afraid of you. You have a lot of rage in you. I attribute it to your divorce, but the fact is you're too dangerous to let into a ring. I don't know who you're beating up in your head, but I hope you never get into a confrontation with him. It could be very bad if you did. He would probably be dead, and you'd be in jail."
I bowed to his logic, and he sent me to a friend of his, for tia chi lessons. It really helped, and more importantly, it was a hobby I could share with my girls. I considered it a training ground, and full intended to get them into my dojo. Tiffany was fighting it tooth and nail, but she couldn't object to the gentle form. The girls enjoyed it, and that played as big a part in relaxing me as the art.
All this flashed through my head as I rolled to my feet, not stopping my motion. He never saw the foot coming until it made contact with his nose, spreading it all over his face. I was wearing wingtips, and those hard soles did a lot of damage. The back fist I followed with as I continued turning got him before he could fall, cracking his cheekbone and jaw and knocking out two teeth. He dropped like a deflated bag, and I kicked him savagely in the balls. It was only a glancing blow but it put him in the fetal position. I settled for kicking his ass, literally. It would be haard for him to walk tomorrow with those bruises. Everything bad in my life, the dissolution of my marriage, it all traced back to him. I was oddly detached as I fucked him up, fully intending to kill him in as painful a way as possible.
I would have killed him, no doubt, but about six guys piled on me. In full fight mode, I knocked one out, sprained another's leg, and sent Lew flying into the plate glass window. O'Brien, tired of replacing it, had installed tempered glass. Lew landed right inthe middle of the lettering. The glass seemed to give, almost throwing him back into the room. The only thing that stopped it from being really bad was O'Brien, who gave me a rap on the back of my head, stunning me. When I recovered, I looked around at the carnage. The guy I knocked out was still down, Lew was groaning and holding his shoulder, and O'Brian was in a full hitter's stance. I held my hands up in surrender, and there was a flurry of activity.
EMTs and cops showed up. Middleton was worked over and placed on a gurney. He was conscious when he was wheeled out. I grinned, knowing he would never again in this life be as pretty as he was when he came into the bar. He must have realized what I was thinking, and lunged against the straps. They were trying to calm him while I smirked.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and aptly, there stood The Angel Of Death. "Mr. Davis, I was here with Lew and witnessed the whole thing. I urge you to press charges. I hope to God you never show up in my courtroom. I doubt even Lew could get you off. You were going to kill him, weren't you?"

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Probably. Absolutely. I was in the zone, you know? Nothing mattered but destroying my enemy."

He grinned, and told me he knew exactly how I felt, and gave me a card for a shrink named Teller. "The man is the best, especially with anger management. Most all his clients are cops or somehow associated with the legal profession, and he's very good at what he does. I can get you in if you like. Now, I think you need to apologize to Lew."
He led me to the table, and besides Lew, there sat Judges Holden and Herring, along with his huge bodyguard. Herring grinned at me. "Well, son, you got a roomful of witnesses when it goes to trial. We all met here by accident, and had a ringside seat. You ever think about going pro?"
I shocked them when I told them I'd fought professionally for almost two years under another name, to help pay for college. I had quit the day I reached my goal. "I was good, but I was afraid of what I was capable of, so I never really quite let go. My trainers told me if I could, I would be a champion one day, but I never really liked hurting people."
Lew grunted, grinned, and winced. "Didn't seem to bother you much today. You'll be getting my chiropractic bills."
"I'll pay them. I really am sorry, Lew."
He waved it off. "I know. Now, you need to follow this nice young man to the hospital, to be checked out. As your lawyer of record I insist you do it, for the lawsuit you are obviously going to file."
I never noticed it, but my cheek was still bleeding, and my whole face was a red mask. It took six stitches to close it up.
....................
To make thing worse, a local reporter and his cameraman were in the bar, having a beer at the end of the day. The photographer had his camera sitting on the bar and managed to get some pretty good pictures, one of my foot flattening asshole's nose, another of me under a pile of men as I sent Lew flying, and one more of me, trying to get to Middleton, my face covered with blood.
"Local Businessman Assaulted", read the headline.
The reporter, Cameron something, dug a little, getting the backstory, and trotted it all out again. There was a lot of chatter on local talk radio about it, about seventy per cent in my favor. "Asshole needed his ass kicked" was the general consensus.
Middleton got fired. He was let go on a morals clause without recommendation, and the assault got him disbarred for two years, and ordered into anger management classes. He disappeared during the civil suit, but it didn't matter. He spent his salary as soon as he got it, and was in serious debt. No wonder a rich woman like Tiffany appealed to him. No one, in Florida anyway, ever heard from him again. Rumor had it he moved to the West Coast. Maybe he could hook on with Lew's old partner. We still got a judgement for two hundred fifty grand, but we knew we'd never see that money.
He also got arrested and no one would bail him out. He sat in jail, his body aching, his jaw wired shut, his nose protected by an aluminum strip. They had to move him to the infirmary after the rest of the inmates found out he was a lawyer and heard the whole story. His nose would have been broken again but there wasn't enough cartilige left to make a difference. He was finally tried, forced to use a public defender, four months after the incident. I had to be there and it was hard to believe the hollow shell was once an arrogant lawyer. I think the judge felt bad for the way his face looked. He was found guilty of felony assault, which the judge reduced down to the most minor sentence he could give him. He was sentenced to fourteen months but released for time served and probation.
Four days after the fight Tiffany called. I almost didn't take it, I would have changed my number long ago if it weren't for the girls. I sighed, and answered. "Hello, Tiffany."
I think I surprised her by answering.
"Bruce, is that you?"
"No Tiffany, it's a total stranger answering my phone. What do you want? Are the girls all right?"
"The girls are fine, but you have a lot of explaining to do. They saw the pictures and read the papers. I went to see him, Bruce. He'll never look the same again. I'm sorry, Bruce. I caused all of this, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did. I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for your concern, it means a lot to me. The stitches are healing nicely. Look, he still has that big dick thing going. He'll land on his feet. But it's water under the bridge now, and you can't make a river reverse course. I accept your apology. Anything else?"
There was a hint of a smile in her voice. "Maybe he'll be fine, but not for a while. That one shot to the crotch has one ball swelled to the size of a baseball and they almost had to remove it. It's a good thing it wasn't a direct hit or he'd be singing soprano for the rest of his life."
She stopped again. "Glad to hear you were concerned with his equipment. I'll try to have better aim if there's a next time. As stimulating as this conversation is, unless there's something else, I'll be going now."
"I always manage to screw up, don't I? I'm sorry Bruce. I really am glad he's alive, though. I'd have hated to bring the girls to see you in jail."
" I..well..um, that is..." She started crying. When she finally calmed, she sniffled a bit and then asked me a question. "Do you ever miss me, miss us?"
"Truthfully? Every day. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about what we had and lost. But time passes, and now that asshole is out of the picture, maybe we can move on."
"I was a fool, Bruce. I knew what he was doing and let him. Can we.. is there any chance...do you think we.."
I stopped her. "Tiffany?"
"Yes, Bruce?"
"Still have a pair of running shoes under the bed?"
She hung up on me.
...........
I though a lot about Vik's offer. I read the trade magazines, and when I saw the articles on little red boxes spitting movies out without any overhead to speak of, the ever enroaching cable market, and about a company getting ready to go online in a couple of years that offered whole catalogs for one cheap subscription price, I knew the writing was on the wall. I talked to all my managers, told them what I thought was going to happen, and left.
I shocked Vik when I wasn't interested in part time, but I'd come on board full time if the ownership clause would stay in place. I thought the man was going to kiss me. My salary, counting bonuses, could be as high as one hundred fifty a year, a minimum of eighty grand on bad years.
I didn't tell the girls. They would have told Tiffany, and I didn't want to deal with her any more for a while. As far as they knew, I still worked at Blockbuster.
The kids told me Mom started going out again after a couple of months. I ran into her, at a high end restaurant about six months later. She was with an older looking guy whose clothes and attitude screamed "money!', dressed in a tight little black dress that must have had a built in shelf bra, the way her breasts stood out. She saw me alone and came over to say hi, and no doubt rub her date in my face.
"Hi, Bruce. It's nice to see you. It's been a while. Nice suit."
I knew what she was saying. The only time I wore suits of this quality when we were married was if she bought me one to wear to a company function. She'd be shocked to look in my closet now and see a dozen of them.
I grinned. "Oh, I splurge once in a while. I wanted to look especially nice tonight."
"What's so special about tonight?"
"Hot date," I grinned, as she joined us. Maggie was a spectacular redhead, a hospitality manager on a cruise boat, The Bonne Chance. Her best friend, a Frenchwoman, was seeing Bill Maitland. Oddly, she was married, but it wasn't my business. Rumor had it her and her husband had an arrangement. Each was free to fuck anyone they fancied while they were apart. I know Maitland was plain smitten with her. We even double dated a few times when they were in port. I only said hot date to get a rise out of her, but truer words had never been spoken.
She was in green silk which really set off her flaming red hair, with a neckline that let you know that was all her under the dress. 38B, I found out later. Maggie was Irish, and I could listen to her talk for hours. I saw Tiff tighten up, and grinned. Pure anger shot out of her eyes, but she had to maintain for her date. Wouldn't do to let him see that hot temper too early. Then again, I'd gotten a glimpse of the wild Irish temper Maggie possessed. It would be a hell of a cat fight if they went at it. My money would have been on Tiff, though. The girl had only one fear, full committment.
I nearly laughed out loud at the mental image.
Maggie made it sweeter by offering to share a table, but Tiff grabbed the man's arm possesively, saying she wanted private time with her date.
"Aye, as do I, but a different kind of private time. He almost forced me here. I would have much rather spent the time in his condo, but he insisted. Oh well, they say anticipation heightens the feeling, you know?"
Tiffany had an expression on her face that looked like she had just chewed up and swallowed a bucket of lemons. I loved it. We parted, and I would look up once in a while, to her eyes staring daggers at us.
"She's your ex, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"She still loves you, you know? I thought she was going to jump me when I took your arm. Then again, the look you were giving her wasn't exactly hate."
I sighed. "Look, it's too complicated to explain. We loved each other, we were just mismatched from the go."
She smiled and rubbed my arm. "She's staring again. Look, this is our last weekend together for quite a while, maybe ever. We're leaving Monday for an around the world cruise that will last eleven months. Even then, the final berth is in Europe. I plan to spend some time at home, maybe see some of the continent. Maybe I'll call, see if you can take some time and spend it with me. It'll be the vacation of a lifetime."
Those words hit me hard, and she saw me frown. "Then again, lover, maybe not. You're the perfect man for marriage, loyal, loving, taking care of your partner's needs selflessly. Maybe too selflessly. I, myself, am not marriage materail. Maybe someday, but not now. I wasn't kidding though, when I said I wished we'd have spent the time at your condo instead of here. By my estimate, you're two and a half orgasms behind right now, and I intend for you to catch up before the night is out. Are we clear here?"
I grinned. "Like to skip coffee and dessert?"
"I'd rather serve you your dessert back at the condo. It's the perfect dish, you can eat all you want and it contains no calories. Settle the bill love, while I visit the loo."
By the time I'd settled the bill she was back, and took my hand. We got level with Tiffany's table when she stopped. "Opps! Hold on love, I dropped something." She bent over from the waist, and the bottom of that delicious ass was almost showing. She straightened, looked into Tiff's dinner partners' eyes, grinning at his gaping mouth.
"Here you go love. I thought this would save us some time, later."
I looked down at my hand. It held a very, very small thong, almost dripping wet. I grinned and slid it into my breast pocket, and told her it was so I could enjoy her scent. I looked over at the couple, wished them a good night, and left, my hand firmly on Maggie's ass. I felt Tiffany's eyes all the way out the door.
Maggie wore me out, gave me a tearful goodbye Sunday night, and was gone from my life. I never saw her again, although she did email me for a while. Tiffany called me Monday.
"Was that necessary?"
"No, it was my date's idea. Why, did it bother you? We've been divorced for almost two years. I could have called you Saturday night and let you listen to Maggie's atempts to get me up for the fifth time in seven hours, but I'd been there, done that, and still have the scars. Anything else?"
She hung up on me, again. Why bother calling if she didn't want to talk?
Five weeks later I saw her engagement announcement in the paper. It was to the guy we saw at the restaurant. He was an executive vice president of a major chain restaurant, pretty high up the ladder. They had relocated him to corporate headquarters to help launch a new chain of Thai restaurants. That stood to reason. Thai was Tiffany's favorite.
...................
Seven months later Vik Fleming looked up as the woman entered his office. He was sitting behind a massive desk that was custom made and he'd caried through every move as he became more successful. It was one of his favorite things in life. The woman was obviously a professional, but a very attractive well dressed professional. Her skirt was demure, but had a dangerously high slit in it. She turned to shut the door, and he couldn't see any panty lines. He almost instantly got an erection and sat back down. He thought it rude not to stand, but it would have been ruder still to show her the obvious effect she had on him.
She smirked a little, sitting down and crossing her legs slowly. Vik hoped he was right about the panties, but was disappointed when she tugged her skirt a little, covering everything. "Mr. Fleming, I'm Tiffany Hampton. I believe I have an appointment."
"Yes, Miss Hampton, I have you right here on the schedule. Please let me apologize for not standing, but I have a condition that makes standing difficult."
She had a tight little grin, and he knew she was aware of what exactly the condition was. She was a hottie, but wifey number four was entering a jealous, bitchy phase, so he behaved. Besides it was late 2010, and the Great Recession, as it came to be called, was just getting into full swing. Everyone was starting to feel the pinch, and they couldn't afford to lose what could well be a lucrative contract.
"It's Mrs. Hampton, Mr. Fleming. I'm keeping my married name until the divorce comes through. Mr. Fleming, my company has had the same ad agency for years, and to be honest, we think they've gone stale. We cannot afford that in this economy. Your company was recommended to our CEO, he checked on your work, and here I am."
She bent down to her briefcase, and Vik got a shot of her high firm breasts, encased in a silky looking bra. His erection returned. "What we're specifically interested, sir, is the ones responsible for this work."
He glanced at the first few and grinned. "These are all done by the same man, our newest hire. He worked for us part time at first because he liked his old job. He's fast, has great imagination, and to quote a cliche, can think out of the box."
"Wow, all that from a part timer. I'm surprised someone else didn't snap him up."
"Believe me, my partner and I had a few sleepless nights over just that scenario. We even offered him ten per cent of the company in two per cent per year increments, to keep him with us."
"Wow. I've worked for my company since I got out of college, and never in a million years would they offer something like that to any of their employees, let alone a part timer. I'll always be a hired hand, but I'm a very, very well paid hired hand, so I'll stick to them."
"Yes, well, we got lucky. He decided to go full time with us, giving up his other job. Here's been here less than a year, and we're getting so much business because of him we're having to add people. With this economy we're able to pick up some really good people. There was a guy we were after, but his boss offered him almost the same deal to stay in North Carolina. Plus, he married a local girl and didn't want to move. They would have made a killer combination."
"I'd like to meet the man, bounce a few ideas our firm has off him. If we can come to agreement, it could be very beneficial to both companies."
"I'll have to schedule something. He's out of the office right now, working for a charity. You might remember it, the ones for adoption based on the milk ads? Our man has a martial arts background, and even worked with the trainer for Betty "Bang Bang" Burke. Actually, she's married now, to her financial advisor. I guess he wanted all her money."
It was meant as a joke, but Tiffany winced and quickly responded. "Yes, I've heard of it. They're tied up with that adoption telethon that airs just before Christmas every year, aren't they? Miss Burke better be careful who she trusts with her money."
"Apparently, he was already rich when they met, and married her without a prenupt before she really got big. She probably makes four to five times what he does a year now. She's doing ads, you should probably recognize her from the Maybelline mascara work. I hear she's branched out into acting now."
"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Fleming. Tell me, when do you think you could make your man available?"
"How about tonight, a dinner meeting? I'll call him, make sure he's available."
He dialed, and soon was talking. "Bruce, I have a new client here, and she wants to meet you specifically, to bounce some ideas around. It could be a very good thing for the company. Her name is Tiffany Hampton. Why are you laughing? All right, I'll have the directions for you when you get back. Eight o'clock doable? Fine, fine. Be on your best behavior, Bruce. This one could be important to us."
He hung up, looking at the phone. "Eight O'clock, and you pick the restaurant. Is that satisfactory?"
"It will be just fine. If you don't mind me asking, why was your man laughing?"
"With Bruce, who knows? One of the things that helps him work is his sense of humor, even if most of us can't understand it most of the time."
Little alarm bells had been ringing in Tiffany's head for the last few minutes. "The Palace of Siam, eight sharp then. It's just around the corner and I'm a big fan of Thai food, and the reviews are very good. For the record, what is your man's full name?"
"Bruce Davis, Mrs. Hampton. He says he knows you."
................
I stood at the entrance, watching her. She had that little frown I'd always loved while she worked her tablet. The girl did like her gadgets. She must have felt me watching her, and looked up, breaking into a grin at the sight of me.
"Hello, Bruce. Come on in, I won't bite. In fact I can assure you with utmost confidence that my mouth will never touch any of your body parts again in this lifetime."
I just stood there, and it started to bother her. "Are you waiting on something?"
"Yes. I'm waiting to see if this is a legitmate deal or just an opportunity to hurt me one more time."
She actually laughed. "Bruce, get over yourself, and get over us. It's a done deal. I hurt you a little, and you hurt me a lot. You know, right up until the divorce became final, I would have taken you back, and worked to find a way to work out our problems."
"I could say the same to you. I would have given us every chance, right up until the time you called to give me a blow by blow, pun intended, description of your fuckfests. What possibly could have made you that hateful, or think it was a good idea? When was I ever that cruel to you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I just told you, moron, you hurt me a lot. So I retaliated. Would I have done it if I had been in my right mind? Not a chance in hell. But deep down, as hurt as I was, I knew if I did it, it would sever us forever. So I did it, to teach you..."
She stopped suddenly, realizing it was too late.
"Ah yes, another Tiffany object lesson. It worked about as well as the last one, didn't it? I have to thank you, though, because I did learn some things. I finally learned to let you go, because there was nothing of the woman I had loved so deeply left. I have to admit that I haven't managed to find your replacement, but then again, I'm in no hurry. There's someone out there for me, I just haven't found the energy to look for her. Let's just say I'm a little gunshy and leave it there."

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"You're looking for a slave to own, aren't you? Someone who will have to give everything of herself to prove she loves you."

"Exactly, except for the slave part. You never got it, Tiffany. It wasn't so much about owning you, it was about being considered equal and owning each other. I'm a lot better off sharing a life with someone who doesn't have a thing but complete and total love for me. I'm making good money now, Tiffany. Not the megabucks you are, but I'm doing all right. When I find the right woman, everything I have will be hers, equally, and always. I wouldn't consider anything else."
"I'm leaving now, Tiffany. I could give a fuck less if Vik fires me tomorrow. Honestly, I can't stand the sight of you right now. You can't help but wave the red flag at me, and I always respond by charging like a bull. Not this time. Go back to your life, and try to do a little better on husband number three."
I was out the door and to my car in seconds. It was a brand new Cadillac Escalade. Bill Maitland had one, Lew had one, Hank at the company had one, and I had always admired them. Besides, I hated driving the vehicle I got in the settlement, because it always reminded me of what I lost. I got a really good trade value out of it, so I splurged. I was shocked beyond words when Tiffany jumped into the passesenger seat and crossed her arms, staring straight ahead, a determined look in her eye.
"What are you doing?"
"Pleading my case. I'm sorry, Bruce. Seeing you in nice clothes, working at the kind of job I always dreamed you would, kind of got to me. You should have done it for me, not because you wandered into it."
"I did wander into it. But I've found I really enjoy it. Eventually, with or without you, something like this would have happened."
She sighed. "Please, if we go back in, I'll behave. We'll just talk business, all right? And you could have knocked me over with a feather when Vik told me your name. MY Bruce, a respectable businessman, part owner of a very highly thought of firm! It was like I wandered into the Twilight Zone. And I had no idea it was you I was looking for, or we would have sent someone else, because we really, really want you to work with us. I swear to you it will be strtictly business."
I got out of the car. "One jab, one hurtful statement, and I'm gone, do you understand?"
She nodded, and in a move I never expected, locked down on my hand. People watching probably thought it was a romantic gesture. I took it as making sure I didn't leave.
Reseated, the waitress appeared, and we placed our orders. Tiff was surprised when all I ordered was a small bowl of their spicy soup.
"That's it?"
"Yeah. You never bothered to consult me, but I'm not much on Thai food. I never once thought I'd stay for over five minutes anyway, so I ate at Sonny's before I came here."
I saw her tighten her eyes, before she let out a big breath and relaxed. "While we're waiting for our food, let me run a few things by you."
She laid out her ideas, and while some were pretty good, many were disasters. Equally critical, she dismissed a few of my ideas out of hand, really liked a few, and wrote concise notes on the rest. Finally, she was enjoying dessert while I sipped some excellent tea. The waitess seemed to be hovering, and I looked at my watch. It was 11:45, and they closed at twelve. I left a very nice tip, but Tiffany snatched the check. "Business dinner, remember? We are going to do business, aren't we? I can get someone to take my place if it makes you more comfortable."
I laughed, surprising her. "If you behave like you did tonight, I have no problem working with you. It wasn' that bad, really. I can think of more painful things, root canals, for instance."
She smirked and grinned. "You're funny now. When did you get a sense of humor?"
I almost told I took some of her money and bought one but held my tongue. No need to spoil the mood.
Then she shocked the shit out of me. "You know, there's a bar two blocks over. I've heard it's a really nice place, and they have a live band that specializes in our music. Want to let off a little steam?"
I started to tell her no but saw the look in her eyes, so I shocked her back. "Sure. But we're not dancing, at least not with each other. I think your no body part touching rule is a very good idea."
She frowned, but grabbed my hand and we walked to the bar. It really was a nice place, the band was good, and the drinks were potent. Forty minutes later we were slow dancing to a favorite song of hers. We'd danced to it at our wedding, so when tears appeared and she pulled me forward, I didn't resist. She snuggled to me tightly, the feeling achingly bittersweet. She sensed it and ground into me tighter, until she was practically humping my thigh, while my hands wandered from the nape of her neck to the top of that tight little ass. She reached around with one of her hands and pushed me into her butt even harder. I had a negative thought and tried to push it away. She had always loved anal as long as there was plenty of foreplay to get her ready. I wondered how long it took to get her ready for Stephen's monster.
She felt me stiffen and looked up, realizing what I was thinking. She backed off the humping, but still held me close. I was happy and sad in equal measure when the song ended. There was a lull in the music and she started talking. "Bruce, Stephen and I never..."
I held my fingers to her lips gently, but the look on my face wasn't gentle. "You don't ever get to tell me about anything you and Big Dick did. I already got the reports live and in vivid detail, remember? This is a no go subject for me. Not now, not when we're eighty. Am I clear here?"
She nodded, as tears leaked down her face. I excused myself, to give her time to recover. When I got back there was a man standing in front of her and she was shaking her head vigorously. "NO! I will not dance with you. My date is due back any minute, so please leave."
I walked around him and she saw me, her face getting white. I didn't give her a chance to speak. "Sorry honey. Long line, you know. Who's your friend?"
She shrugged. "Just a guy. I asked him to run along, and yet here he is."
I gave him the look I'd used when I was fighting. He didn't seem scared, having about three inches and forty pounds on me. "The lady asked you to leave."
He puffed up. "You gonna make me little man?"
I grinned. "Why yes I am. I'll probably enjoy it. I hold black belts in two different styles, and fought UBC for two years. Oh, it was a while back, but I still train. I could kick your ass and still be in my chair before the ice starts to melt in my drink. Here's your one chance. Fight or flight. Reason, or stupidity. It doesn't matter. In ten seconds I'm going to take the decision out of your hands. You may even still be able to walk, after rehab. NOW GO!"
He looked stricken and scurried away. I turned around and Tiffany was looking at me like a feral cat in heat. All she ever knew about my involvement in martial arts was that I held a black belt. I'd never told her about my fighting career, and she never followed the sport, so we hardly ever talked about it. It got out after the fight at the bar. There were even two pictures of me from my fighting days and both times I was in the middle of a knock out.
We danced one more dance, and she did everything short of actually fucking me on the dance floor. Just before the song ended she pulled my head down and jammed her tongue down my throat so far I couldn't breath, holding it for what seemed like forever.
The lights flickered on, and last call was given. I looked at my watch, surprised to see it was 3 a.m. We walked outside, watching the people leave, those hooking up grinning, those that missed out looking dejected. Some were staggering, and a few were practically being carried.
"What was that all about?
She knew, but she made me ask again. "What was what?"
"What was the tongue bath about? If I remember correctly, you told me early on there would be no touching, much less the mixing of bodily fluids."
She shrugged. "It's been a while since I had a man in my arms, and I'm a little drunk. And horny. It meant nothing. That's as far as you'll ever get with me, ever again."
I sighed. "Good. I thought for a minute you were sending me signals. I doubt I'd do you any good after being wallowed out by Stephen's monster. I probably couldn't feel the sides. It would be like fucking a coffee can."
She stood upright, fire dancing in her eyes. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever fuck you again! Share a cab?"
Forty-five minuites later she was on her knees in my condo, slurping on my dick like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. I had my hands in her hair, and would thrust every once in a while, making her gag. "Shit, I thought you'd be better at this after as much practice as you got."
She looked up, grinning. "I thought this was the best way to get you off. I'm not letting you put that pathetic little sausage inside me, I doubt I would even feel it. I thought I'd give you a mercy suck though, I still have pretty good suction."
Two minutes later I had her slammed against my living room wall, and she screamed as I dropped her down on my dick. "Damn, bitch, you're tight! What did you do, get a pussylectomy or something?"
"Fuck you! It's...oh, shit!...been a while. Damn, baby, where did you learn that?" She screamed a little as I pounded her savagely.
"Did your new hubby not ever get into that snatch? You...uh...feel like a sixteen year old virgin!"
"He was a lot...ahh... smaller than you, and way smaller than..." I slammed her savagely, not wanting her to ever mention his name. I felt her tighten up, and then felt a small flow of moisture trickle down round my balls.
"That's it, bitch. Come for me! Come on that dick you swore was never going near you again."
"You're small, but like I said, it's been a while."
I pulled out, her feet hitting the floor, her arms pinned above her head by my hand. She looked confused. "What?"
"If I'm not doing you any good, why continue? To be honest, it's nowhere near good as I remember it being." I let her go. "Get dressed, and I'll call you a cab."
She screamed in my ear, nearly breaking an eardrum, sliding down the wall until she was on her knees, swallowing me again before I could react. She was going to town and I was getting into it when she pushed, and I sprawled across the carpet. She was on me before I could breath, slamming down on me like a jackhammer at speeds I didn't believe possible. She came, screaming, and five minutes later had another massive orgasm, her muscles contracting around my dick and sending me over the edge. I nearly threw her off when I lunged up. She collapsed on my chest, and I felt tears.
I couldn't stand it. "Why, Tiff? Why did you do such hurtful things to the man you were supposed to have loved? Was his dick that much better?"
She raised up, gazing at me with intensity, and hopefully a little shame. "I'd lie to you, but you'd know it. His dick was a lot bigger, and he was very good, hitting places that had never been touched before. I'll admit, I loved fucking him. But I never loved him. And though it shames me a little, every time we had sex part of it was getting back at you for the way you hurt me."
For a guy who had just pounded a woman almost comatose, I didn't feel so good right now. She knew she had hurt me, yet again, and hastened to assure me.
"Yes, Bruce, I know it's hard to hear, but remember, I always loved you, and the sex we had was special, because we were in love. I will always chose what we just did over a big dick every time. Hear me, every time!"
"Still doesn't explain the calls."
"I was angry, all right! I was furious. You had disappeared, I couldn't find you to beg you to come home, to tell you how sorry I was I had hurt you. Then you filed for divorce. Even then, I tried to fight for you, right up until the divorce was final. And yes, we did fuck that night, but it would kill his ego to know it wasn't because I wanted him, it was because I wanted to hurt you. Then the girls come home telling me about the hot Italian bitch with the big tits you were banging, and I lost it all over again."
"Well, you definitely succeeded in hurting me. When he attacked me in the bar, it took six guys and a ball bat to keep me from killing him. And every time I tried to hit him, I saw your face, grinning at me. Does that give you any idea of the hurt you caused?"
She went pale, stroking my cheek, and sighed. "You're right, you know. If you had done something like that to me, I would never forgive you. But honey, you've always known I had issues. I always depended on you for balance, right up until the last six months. I was just so tired of everyone considering you a loser I started to think that way myself. Mom was on me to dump you and get 'a real man', the people at the office wondered behind my back how I put up with you."
"And who put those thoughts in their head?"
She had the decency to blush. "Well, Mom..."
"You can stop right there. Your Mom is the root of most your problems, Tiff, and that made her the root of most of ours.. I should have been a lot firmer about the bitch when we were married. Now I have no constraints, so I'm telling you. The woman is bat shit crazy. If I could find your father I'd kick his ass on general principle. I've told you before, and you didn't listen then, and you won't listen now, but the whole male population is not him. We're decent guys all told. You'll never know because you won't trust a man long enough to find out. Tell me, why did you and the esteemed Mr. Hampton break up?"
She got that stubborn look on her face, and I knew I'd hit a nerve.
"Let me guess, he tried to own you, right?"
She looked away and didn't answer, instead talking about her mother. "Did you know the court ordered mandatory counseling after the last time she confronted you? When she missed her second session the deputies showed up and she spent ten days in jail. Apparently her personality didn't mesh with the other inmates, and they had to put her in protective custody until she was turned loose. She still had bruises when she was released. The Judge terrified her when he told her the next session she missed without a medical excuse would get her six months in state prison. 'It's a medium security facility ma'am, and the state doesn't have the time or money to make sure you have a pleasant stay. Now, am I going to have any more problems with you?' Another incentive was me telling her if she didn't change, I was cutting her access to the girls. I'm fucked up,Bruce, I know it, but I'll be damned if I let the girls follow this path."
She glanced at me, with her calculating face on. I knew the look. She was deciding whether to tell me something she though I might use against her. "I... I'm in therapy now, too. When James left, I hit rock bottom, wondering why I couldn't sustain a relationship. So I found someone who I thought could help me."
Well, I never expected her to say that. "Has it? Helped I mean?"
She wouldn't meet my eye. "I don't know, it's too early to tell."
I knew then she was resisting whatever the therapist was telling her. Old habits die hard, I guess.
Emotionally wrung out and physically exhausted, I let it drop. I stood and looked down at her, her face a mix of misery and hope. It was in my mind to call her a cab and send her home, but what could one night hurt? Morning actually, it was after five. I reached out. "Come on, we need rest. Do you need to call someone?"
Again she wouldn't meet my eye. "No, Mom is with them, and I told her I might be really late."
"So, then, did you plan to spend the night with me?" I let the anger at her mother with our kids go, for now.
"No," she said, her face under a veil of hair, "but I was hoping for more than a business meeting."
"Well, you got it. Bed, now."
She followed along docilely, climbing into the left side from force of habit. I let her snuggle to me, my thoughts a jumble. I heard her sigh and knew she was asleep. She snuggled deeper, and I drifted off myself...
The next morning, actually more like noon, I woke to a very pleasant sensation. She raised her head, grininng. "Good, you're awake. I've already had my shower, and I cleaned you a little with a warm cloth. Now that you're among the living, let's have some fun. She tried to mount me, but I threw her off, grabbing her from behind and mounting her doggy style. I felt her flich when I buried myself in her. I'd taken her anally last night, the key word being taken. I wasn't gentle or considerate, I just lubed her and rammed it home. I knew what it was, and I wasn't ashamed. It had been a hard, brutal, grudge fuck, and even today I felt no regret for it. She resisted at first, but when I took her hand and rammed her fingers into her cunt, she was off to the races, begging me at the end to ram it in harder and faster. Today, I wasn't brutal, but I wasn't gentle either. She didn't seem to care, screaming out her climax so loud I figured if I had any neighbors home they knew what I was doing. We snuggled a little after, then I got my shower.
She had explored the condo while I was in the bathroom, and had made coffee. We sipped in silence for awhile, until she started talking about how great the girl's rooms were. "I let them decorate, within reason. I wanted to create a safe space, their own sanctuary so to speak. I know our split was hard on them, so I wanted to do my best to make sure they knew I still loved them."
She sighed. "We don't have stupid kids, honey. When you left, the hard questions started. Kathlyn knew it had to do with the vacation, and once, when she was really angry at me, she told me she wished she had stayed home with you, that maybe if she had we'd still be together. What was I supposed to say to that? I just kept on loving them, and things settled down."
"You know they never liked your husband."
She flushed. "I know. Marrying him was a mistake."
I flinched, remembering when she'd said the same thing about me. She had her head down, so she didn't notice.
"Looking back, I don't know why I married him. Maybe I was just lonely, and he was there. We met when his company wanted mine to find them locations for his new chain. He was handsome, intelligent, and charming. Things started coming apart right after we married. He wanted the girls to go to an expensive boarding college, the same one he had attended. His mother was British, and that's a pretty common practice there for the affluent. When the girls found out they had a fit, and said they would live with you instead of me shipping them off. It took a lot of hugs and talking to convince then it was never an option. Before, they had tolerated him, after, they ignored him.
He had invested a lot of his own money in the new chain his company had started. it was his baby, and was astounded when America didn't embrace the concept of Thai fast food. The numbers and reviews were horrible. When they started losing money, he came to me, wanting me to pour a million into the chain, to prop it up."
I interrupted her with my laugh. She was pissed when she looked at me, knowing what I was thinking.
"When I refused, things started going downhill. Of course, I had him sign an ironclad prenupt. Hard experience had taught me that, at least."
I couldn't help grinning. She wasn't looking at me, but I knew she knew. I had more money now than I did then. Lew had set me up with his investment advisor. His fees seemed high, but the meeting left me feeling good. "I don't operate like most advisors. I don't farm you out to a bunch of mutual funds. I personally pick every stock I want you to invest in and put my money where my mouth is." It was enough for me, and after a little over two years I had made back the money I paid Lew and was about a hundred grand ahead.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

"Things went downhill from there. He was on the edge of bankruptcy when he left, taking a position with another chain, and moving to the West Coast. The divorce papers came the week after. He went after my money, but Matt was in top form, and he actually owed me money when it was over. Of course I'll never see it, but it was a moral victory."

I thought about that. Lew's former partner had gone west. So had Stephen. The first lover Bill Maitland's wife had had departed to Chicago, practically run out of town. Now it was her new ex. Was the entire population of the western half of the country cheating assholes?
She then went on to tell me he had a small dick and didn't know how to use it. I couldn't help getting a dig in. "You should have had him call Stephen, and gotten some pointers."
"You're an asshole, you know that?"
"That's a popular opinion among the women I've been intimate with lately. Maybe there's something to it."
I don't think that was the reaction she expected, but she grinned. "Good to see it isn't just me."
She changed the subject. "Can you believe Kaitlyn has a boyfriend? The little shit was trying to get her to play spin the bottle. I had a long talk with her."
"So did I, plus, I've been taking them to the dojo with me, got them enrolled in a kid's class. That, and I may or may not have shown them some things that would deter even the most ardent of boys."
She frowned. "How come I didn't know about this?"
"Because they asked me not to tell you, and I can keep a confidence. I wouldn't keep anything important from you, but girls will be girls, you know?"
"I know. Soon they'll be dating, going off to college, and leaving us in the dust."
"It's the cycle of life, Tiff. All we can do is make them as ready as we can. That's always been our job. We love them, guide them, then we trust them, and hope our teachings stick."
"Damn, when did you get so insightful? Success seems to have made you smarter."
"Not necessarily. That was a line from one of my stories, but I was thinking about them when I wrote."
She couldn't get the bitterness out of her voice. "Still chasing that dream? How many rejection slips are you up to now?"
That stung. "I stopped counting right after we split. It doesn't stop me. Sooner of later, I'll figure it out."
She knew she had stepped on my toes and backed off. "So, where are we? Will we see each other again?'
I could see the shock on her face when I answered. "I don't thinks so, Tiff. I couldn't afford it, emotionally."
"But why? Tell me you didn't enjoy last night. Tell me you're not that much of a coward that you can't at least try. What we had was special. It's still special. Why can't we rebuild?"
"Tell me something, Tiff. Say we do remarry. Will we be as one? Will we have joint checking and savings accounts, not sign any prenuptials, drive each other's vehicles? Will you still have running shoes under the bed?"
That one hurt, and she unleashed. "Asshole! You can't let me be my own person, can you? You're always going to want to control me aren't you?"
"Yes and no. It's not about the money, it's never been about the money and you know it. It's about being equal partners, able to share everything. You're never going to be able to do that, and you know it. What does your therapist say about all this, or have you even told her? Yes, I assume it's a woman. You would never share yourself with me, so I can't see you doing it with some strange man."
She refused to argue. "So this is it, then?"
I felt like the whole world was on my shoulders and it was more weight than I could bear. "Yes. This is it. I won't see you again, Tiff. I just can't go back to the way it was, and you're never going to change. So let's just go back to living parallel lives, and share our beautiful children. It's all I can offer you."
She never said another word, dressing in silence and slamming the door as she left. I sat at the dining room table, slow, fat tears hitting the formica of my retro dining table, and wondering if I really was an idiot.
We got the contract, and another woman took point. She even hit on me. I almost fucked her, knowing it would get back to Tiff but in the end I didn't, because I just didn't want to sink to that level.
.....................
I floated along for a few months before another random occurrence changed my life. We were at O'Brien's again, celebrating Lew's recovery from his plane crash and reuniting with his wife. At least she got it and figured out a way to get them back together. Mona was a really attractive woman, with an ass that was every bit Tiffany's equal. Maitland was there, with the elusive Frenchwoman everyone heard rumors about, along with Vik Fleming, his wife, who I'd dubbed This Year's Model, knowing it was going to crash and burn before the year was out, and Hank Clark. His wife oozed more sexuality at fifty than any two twenty five year olds you could find, and I had thought my relationship troubles were nothing compared to the shit she'd put him through. They always managed, just barely, to stay together, and the fact that Henry almost left her for a woman in her thirties gave her the wakeup call she needed, and she stuck to him like glue.
We were talking about things in general, we were all in a good mood, the taunts and teasing gentle but pointed, when Maitland asked if I'd written anything lately. I'd done a good bit after the night I spent with Tiff, but nothing coherent enough to consider polishing it.
"Yes, but none of it very good."
Mona, up until that time had been kind of quiet, still trying to make her way back. Now she spoke up. "You know, I've read a few of the short stories you've done in different magazines. I looked you up when Lew mentioned you were friends."
"What did you think?"
She looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Look, if we're going to be friends, I need you to be honest with me. If I ask you a question, don't ever try to filter the answer. If I didn't want the truth, I wouldn't ask."
"All right, but you asked for it. You write like a pussy, Bruce. The stuff you do is fine for twelve year old girls and octogenarians, but everyone else almost gags on it. There's no conflict, everything is always happy happy. People don't want that. They want grit, real conflict and resolution, emotion. If you can't deliver that, you're doomed. I'm sorry, you seem like a nice guy."
Well, I asked for it. Didn't make it any less painful, though. "Well, that would explain all the rejections"
Vik had listened, grinning. "Thank you, Mona. All the rest of us made it a point to never discuss his writing. The thing is, Bruce, you have it in you to write like she says. Some of your ad copy is just brilliant, five second bites of real life. And If you'll take a suggestion, I have one."
"I'm all ears."
"To start with, you're going about this all wrong. You keep forgetting you have money now. First, you need to write something worth a damn. Ater that, you need a team. Think Nicolas Sparks just sat around and waited for the money to roll in? Fuck no, he didn't. He got a publisher that believed in him enough to get him in the public eye, an agent that kept his face current. I happen to know a very good ad agency that would probably give you a good deal."
Lew chimed in. "Don't forget a good lawyer. That's an absolute must. I'll have you know I've done intellectual rights work ten times, and won eight cases when they went to court. I know who to talk to and who to avoid."
"And fuck a publisher. Do it yourself, so you have complete control and won't have to pay anybody anything." This was from Hank, a man always thinking about the money.
Mona chimed back in, glowing in the sixth month of her pregnancy. "I can tell you from my charity work, a good publicist is a must. I'm obviously not working right now, so I can handle most of it, and I have a lot of resources to draw from."
Maitland grinned. "Well, there you go. A lawyer, a publicist, and an ad agency. Find yourself a sharp agent, a good editor, write something decent, and you're on your way."
Well, fuck me blind. Why hadn't I thought about that?
I did think about if for three weeks, then hit on the perfect story. A romance of sorts, it was basically the true story of Lew and Mona, with a little poetic license on a few facts. The editor I'd hired, a chain smoking woman in her late fifties, told me it had a lot of promise, and then destroyed it. I felt like setting what was left of it on fire when she finished. She grinned at my expression. "Buck up, boy. If it was easy, everybody would be a best selling writer. And it is quite good. I remember the news account for the story this is based on. It was interesting then, and you can make it a lot hotter, if you just try. Now, this is..."
I tuned her out for a minute. Fuck! I hadn't thought for a second about how Lew and Mona would react. I needed to fix that, because if they said no, it was over. I'd never offend my friends like that.
I approached Mona first, giving her the revised story. It was a short read, about a hundred and twenty pages, but I felt like I'd said everything needed so I stopped. Janice, my editor, agreed. "Nothing is as bad as having a first time writer try to stretch a novella into a full novel. It ends up just empty words and confuses the reader. You have it exactly right like it is now, so don't fuck with it."
She didn't call me for four days and I walked around as nervous as a cat at a dog show. Finally, on a Thursday afternoon, Mona called. "Our house, seven."
That was the whole conversation. It took about an hour to screw up the nerve to show. Mona met me at the door, wrapping me in a hug that was so tight I couldn't breathe. "Thank you," she said. "It was beautiful. If I hadn't lived it, it probably wouldn't have played so hard with my emotions, but you got it right."
Lew just grinned and shook my hand. "Well done, Bruce. You know everyone locally is going to know it's about us, but I don't give a fuck. Maybe it will give couples hope that anything can be overcome if they want it bad enough."
Then they stopped smiling. "There are few things we want to tell you about that period in our lives that no one else knows. We give you permission to use it, if you're respectful. All right?"
I agreed of course, and the next day Mona met me for a three hour lunch, telling the unvarnished truth from her side. I felt terrible for her, near tears several times as she spoke. She took quite a few breaks, to get her emotions under control.
It wasn't quite as bad with Lew, because I had lived part of it with him, but it was still pretty rough. I knew he was in pain, but not that much pain. I thought about it for two weeks, threw everything I had away and rewrote the whole thing. It was novel lenght now, necessary to work in the new information. I took it to my editor and she called me to come back in three days later.
At first, Janice didn't say anything. I could almost swear her eyes were moist there for a second. She sighed and sat back in her chair.
"This one is good, Bruce. Very good. We need to tweak it, of course, but not much. It will probably never be a best seller, but it should have legs, especially if we advertise."
Well, I certainly had that covered. Vik started a virtual campaign on the internet and we splurged with the advertising on Amazon. Hank came up with a novel concept, and soon the cover of Bittersweet Farewell was on three hundred billboards across the Southeast.
Sales started slowly, but gained steadily until we were doing about three hundred Kindle downloads, four hundred ebooks, and two hundred hardbacks a day. There were nine hundred fifty reviews in the first month, none lower than four stars. I did local talk shows in Atlanta, Columbia, Charlotte, Birmingham, Raleigh, Charlottesville, Nashville, almost every major city in the Southeastern region, plus Dallas, Oklahoma City, and a few more Western towns. I deliberately did none in Florida, Savannah, or any other border city. Mona, after hearing my wishes, made sure of that. All the personal information about me on the net or my book jacket just said I lived in Florida. It may have hurt sales, but I didn't want Tiff to know. It almost got out of hand when Oprah made it one of her selections, and had Mona and Lew on the show. They went in my place, telling her I was terribly shy and wasn't comfortable in the spotlight. She laughed. "If his next is as good as this, he may have to get over it."
They came off as they were in real life. Personable, attractive, and obviously very much in love. The book skyrocketed, and even cracked the bottom of the New York bestsellers list, for two weeks.
I ran into Tiffany at lunch one day. She was alone, I was alone, and instead of letting it get awkward, I grabbed her hand and told the hostess it was for two. She let me pull her along, and as we sat, we talked. Really talked, like adults.
Of course, we stayed on safe subjects. Most of the talk was about the girls.
"I can't believe how grownup they look! Did you know Kaitlyn has her peroid now? Our little girl is a woman now, Bruce."
"I know, I had to buy her pads the other day."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. It's just life, you know? You used to call me all the time asking me to get them for you."
She smiled a little, remembering. "Yes you did. You were a pretty good husband, especially about things like that."
I dodged that by asking her if she was working on husband number three. She frowned. "No, I date some, and let's be real here, it's basically to get laid, and I haven't found anyone who matches my needs. How about you? Ready to jump into domestic bliss once again?"
I grinned. "Nope. Been there, done that, won't live through it again. I've only loved one woman, Tiff, and it was you. However, I am seeing someone, and we're together a lot. Don't see it long term, but I'm having a lot of fun while it's happening."
She frowned. Seriously? She just admitted she dated guys just to get fucked, but frowns when I'm telling her I'm having fun? Women.
"Be careful Bruce. After all, you have a lot to lose."
It was early 2011, and the recession was just about as bad as it was going to get. My financial adviser had a long talk with Lew, me, and a few others, and laid it out for us about eighteen months earlier. "I had you guys in the housing boom, but I moved you out of it when the sand castles started crumbling. It's going to get worse. Much worse, before it's over. There will be some bargains out there soon, and I want to position you guys to take advantage of it. That being said, I'm liquidating everything while prices are still up. We can leave the money where it's at, ready to reinvest, and not pay capital gains on it. Do you trust me?"
We did, and followed his advice to the letter. I'd taken a four hundred thousand dollar disbursement, to jump start my writing, and had already paid everything back, with a two hundred thousand dollar profit, that was growing daily. I would do okay.
I looked closely at Tiff. We were both 37 now, and I could see a few tiny wrinkles around her eyes. She looked tired. "How's business?"
"Horrible. Our clients were mostly above the fray, so it didn't hurt them for a while. It's finally trickled up, and they're being very cautious. New projects are getting harder to find and finance. No bank on the planet wants to be anywhere near a land deal right now, not with the government breathing down their necks. I've got something really good going right now, the land will never be cheaper, contractors and suppliers are begging for jobs so labor and costs will be low. The local government and the state is willing to give us all kinds of tax breaks, and it would generate about fifty permanent full and part time jobs plus three or four hundred long term construction jobs, so it's a win-win for everyone. If I could find some private investors I could get it off the ground, but the usual sources have dried up."
"Are you all right?"
"I'm making about half what I made in the past, but I'm all right. How about you?"
"Oddly, business is up. The smart ones know the more they advertise, the more likely they are to sell. A lot, though, have cut back, and a few of our oldest clients will be out of business in less than two years if things don't change."
She kissed me on the cheek, thanked me for lunch, and I watched her sway down the street, her ass doing interesting things in that tight skirt.
I thought a lot about what she said, and the next morning I called Fred, and told him about our conversation. He seemed really interested, and said he would check it out.
Two days later Lew, Fred, me, and two more guys I didn't know had a business lunch.
Fred started it off. "It's a good deal. We probably won't do more than break even the first couple of years, but when things get better it'll be a gold mine. There are four hundred and twenty possible homesites, and the cheapest house should be in the five hundred thousand range. I'm talking at least three separate communities, with one for retirees, all gated and guarded. We only need to sell seventy five lots to break even on the land side, and the golf course is being designed by a big name, so the golf fees should take care of the course.
Everything is a risk of course, but the rewards could be tremendous. I'm willing to invest if you guys are."
He waited until the others left, and talked to me and Lew about what he thought would be another good investment. "I'm going to buy as many bank shares as I can afford."
Lew frowned. "You think that's a good idea? Banks are losing money by the truckload. The only one who isn't in financial trouble is the Hunt Bank, and that's only because it's privately owned, and word is they're starting to hurt too."
"You ever listen to the politicians? They are not going to let the big banks go down. They'll pump whatever it takes into them to keep them going, and when the economy rebounds we'll be sitting on a gold mine."
He looked around, and finally settled on Bank Of America. He told us he thought it had hit rock botton, and had nowhere to go but up. We bought in at six seventy a share, and three and a half years later it was trading at fifty four. I bought a hundred thousand shares, Lew bought fifty, and Fred went all in, buying a million. The profits bought Kaitlyn and Kristen new cars for their birthdays when the time came, and a big pontoon boat for me. It was anchored at the marina on the private lake of the housing community and country club we had invested in. We all had nice corner lots in the best community. I was planning to build my new home there.
.........
The phone call was not unexpected. "Is this your doing?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't play me, Bruce. Did the money come from you?"
"It was a good deal. I've always been impressed with your business sense, Tiff. Why shouldn't we make a little off this? It's just business. And my part wasn't that much."
That much was true, except she didn't know about the blind trust Lew had created, owned by Kaitlyn and Kristen, with me, Lew, and Fred as guardians, that had invested 500,000. It also bought both girls fify thousand shares of Bank Of America. If things went well, they would be set for life.
She sputtered for a minute before I cut her off. "Don't be a fool and look a gift horse in the mouth. Take the money and run, you put a lot of work into this."
Business sense won over personal outrage, and the deal came together. Her bosses were so impressed they bought her a new car as a thank you. A BMW Boxer. I'd see her time to time, zipping down the main drag. I'd always smile when I did.
..................
I was excited, grinning at what I was planning. The new woman in my life was also a novelist, a much more successful one, and we got along really well. We were more than fuck buddies, but not much more. She was 45, eight years older, but looked my age. And she was an absolute monster in bed. I thought Tiff and Deanna could get wild, but it was like comparing kittens to a Bengal tiger. She had skills I'd never encountered, and she taught me a lot about tantric sex, to the point I could maintain an erection for an outrageous amount of time. It just kept getting better and better.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

An added bonus was that she had two girls the same age as mine, and they got on well. I had just come out with my second book, a long tome that turned me inside out as I wrote it. Janice was practically drooling. "You won't be able to hide any more, Bruce. This is going to shove you front and center into the public eye." I had signed with a publisher, one that had rejected my work seventeen times, and the team of Mona and Lew made them pay dearly for every one of them. I had an extra boost when HBO bought the rights to film Bittersweet Farewell, for a really nice chunk of change. My future looked very bright.

Sarah was talking about taking a vacation. The movie based on her fourth book was about to premiere, and she wanted a little downtime before she hit the talk show and red carpet circuit. Her daughters and mine shared a lot in common, the main being an absolute dedication to a popular boy band.
"I can get tickets and backstage passes, Bruce. It would be the thrill of a lifetime for them."
Without telling her why, I got Tiffany to agree to let me have the girls for four weeks straight during the summer. She actually welcomed it, the boost from the success of her latest venture made her the 'it' girl in land development, and she was extremely busy.
I told the girls to pack light, that I was taking them someplace special, and there may be shopping invovled. Sarah owned a timeshare type arrangement with an avaition service, so we were on a private jet and bound for New York before any of the girls could ask questions. We had a private suite in a five star hotel, Sarah and I had the master, and the girls shared two bedrooms, divided by age, so the older girls had one, and the younger ones had the other. We dressed them to the nines and arrived at the Garden. One of hers actually fainted when she saw who was on the marque.
We were front and center, among thousands of screaming teen girls. Sarah smiled her thanks when I handed her a set of ear plugs. When it was over, the girls were so excited they couldn't talk. We went backstage, and the guys in the band, late teens to early twenties, past masters of the meet and greet, welcomed them, posing for pictures, giving them autographed glossies. One gave Kristen the shirt he'd worn during the concert, and the others not to be outdone, gave the other girls theirs. That led to more pictures with the barechested boys. I was amazed at their toned bodies, but then again, to dance as frenetically as they did while they sang for sixty minutes would put anyone in shape.
The girls slept in sweaty tee shirts that night, and Sarah and I were smart enough not to object.
I didn't think about it, but every girl had a Facebook account, and they flooded it with pictures. We spent the next day shopping at some very exclusive stores, saw the Gugenhiem, and New York hot spots like Times Square. The girls even got a picture with the Naked Cowboy, who was extremely polite to them. He even sang them a song. Still a little creepy seeing a man in his BVD's and a cowboy hat with my girls under his arms. The evening found us on the jet, bound to L.A. for the premiere of the film the next evening. Once again, the girls and Sarah were dressed to the nines, and I didn't look too shabby in my tux as we walked the red carpet, Sarah posing for countless pictures. I stayed in the background because this was her time, and I didn't want to detract from it. She showed her appreciation with a littl PDA, kissing my cheek and taking my arm. The gossip magazines and tv shows were going crazy, trying to figure out who I was. One even speculated I was her new husband. Many gushed about what a handsome family we made.
Of course, being a man, I didn't keep up with any of this.
The next morning we were on a commercial flight to Japan. We saw the sights, and had a traditional meal, the girls dressed in native clothes, their hair done up carefully. They looked like little porcelain dolls, and Sarah looked like a geisha. A really, realy hot geisha. She was there for a book signing, marking the Asain release of her latest book. I stood in the background, and many assumed I was some kind of bodyguard. The girl spent the night at the movies, and had real bodyguards with them. That little fact kind of freaked me out later.
The kids were killing their Facebook pages, and had a following numbering in the thousands, when shit hit the fan. I got a vicious email from Tiffany, railing against me not telling her where we were going, accusing me of doing the whole trip fo revenge. I didn't know it, but Kaitlyn had posted it was the vacation of a lifetime. That one had hit her hard.
It took me a little to calm down enough to reply.
"What in the world is the matter with you? I do not need your permission to take our children on vacation. Maybe I should have told you, but it was kind of last minute when Sarah invited us to join her. Whatever, I'll have the girls home safe and sound in two to three weeks."
Two days later we were in China on the Great Wall. I couldn't believe it was built centuries ago. The man hours it took had to be astronomical. The girls weren't that impressed, but they really liked the traditional puppet show we attended that evening. They were circumspect with their photos, but they hit Facebook as quick as we cleared the border.
We left China and did the grand tour, England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Germany, Italy, the Netherlands, Sweden, and Spain. We did all the tourist things, rode the gondolas in Italy, watched the Running of the Bulls in Spain. I thought the girls and Sarah were going to freak when they saw me run it for about half a mile. Fear can really shaves seconds off your run time.
We saw the Book of Kells, kissed the Blarney Stone, tossed coins in fountains in Rome, toured the Vatican. We even got to see the Pope, even if it was at a distance. We crossed from France to England on a eighteenth century three masted schooner, the sailors dressed in traditional clothes. It was indeed the vacation of a lifetime. Three and a half weeks after we left, we were back home in Jacksonville. I cringed a little over what I spent, but it was worth every dime.
The only bad part of the trip came when Sarah and I split up. On the last night, after another marathon sex session, she snuggled up to me, reaching into a drawer in the nightstand, handing me a little box. I didn't know what to say when I opened it and saw wedding rigns.
"We're good together, honey. Our kids get along better than most sisters. I've got more money than I know what to do with, and you're well on your way to being my equal financially, so the normal bullshit has no meaning in this situation. Marry me?"
I shocked the shit out of her when I said no.
"Why?"
"Because you don't really love me Sarah. You love the idea of us, the power couple of the literary world, at least in romance. All we have is we're great in bed and our kids like each other. We haven't been together long enough. We don't know each other's annoying habits, hangups, or predispositions to certain situations. I really care for you Sarah. You're a great mother, fun to be with, and sexy as hell. You've probably ruined me for normal women. And truthfully, while I care for you quite a bit, I don't love you. Let's hold on a bit longer, and see where it goes. Who knows, there may be wedding bells in our future."
Her reaction surprised me. "It's your bitch of an exwife, isn't it? You know you still cry her name in your sleep? And who the fuck carries around a picture of their ex? I knew when I read your book you're still carrying a torch for her. I've seen the little titted bitch, and honey, she ain't got what I got. You'll never do better than me, and I'm not willing to wait. We'll go home tomorrow, be pleasant in our farewells, but I'll never sleep with you again."
She flounced out of the room. I watch her juicy ass all the way to the door, but still didn't have any regrets. Oddly, I dreamed of Tiffany that night, when we were in our early twenties. it wasn't a sex dream, just a pleasant scene of two young people in love. I woke up and felt my cheeks, knowing I had been crying. I never went back to sleep.
...............
Since we were home four days early, I took the kids back to Tiffany sooner than she expected. They had been missing Mom, and I caught Kaitlyn one day while we were in France, crying.
"What's the matter, pumpkin?"
"I miss Mom. I wish she was here with us. Is this what it was like when we left you and went to Hawaii? I'm sorry, Daddy. I was just a kid then, I had no idea how you would have felt. I know that triggered you divorcing Mom, but I also know that was just the breaking point. I don't remember a lot, but I remember some. Grandma is a little crazy, isn't she? Mom wasn't very good to you, was she?"
I knew I had to tread carefully. "I loved your mother a great deal, baby, and she loved me, or we wouldn't have the two perfect children we have now. People change honey, or sometimes one changes while the other stays the same. There are a lot of reasons why your mother and I aren't together anymore, but I never once regretted my time with her. And I defintely don't regret you or Kristen. Well, sometimes I do, when you're being bratty, but most of the time I don't mind keeping you around."
She broke the hug and grinned. "We are not bratty! We're just a little more intelligent than most people, and it's hard for the common folk to understand us. Anyway, we're the lucky ones here. Even if you're divorced you're both still there for us. A lot of my friends can't say that. Besides, now I have the memory of two 'vacations of a lifetime'. Thank you, Daddy."
I was thinking about that when Tiff pulled in. The girls were running to her before she stopped, and I cringed as she slammed the lever in park, the SUV coming to a shuddering halt. She was out of the car with her arms wide, and soon they were a little ball of feminine tears.
I respected the moment, unloading the suitcases and boxes of memorabilia. There were several cases still to come. I had them shipped instead of the hassle of dragging them along. The girls walked up the drive, a child under each of her arms. I smiled, but the look on her face stopped me from speaking. "Girls, kiss your Dad and go into the house."
As soon as the door shut she was on me. "You had to do it, didn't you? You had to try and one up me. Well, you dick, you won this round. It'll be a long time before I hear one of the girls say, "Mom, remember when we did this in Hawaii? No, now I have to hear about the fucking Great Wall or the fucking Eiffel Tower or listen to fucking BadBoyz while they wear those fucking tee shirts until I feel like fucking screaming. I checked that big titted Cougar out you were with. Best selling author my ass! She's a hack romance writer. Was it some kind of groupie thing, hanging with someone who could do what you couldn't?"
I tried to be calm and failed. She knew looking into my face she had crossed some kind of line. I waited until I was close, because I didn't want the girls to hear. "Know what, Tiff? Fuck you, which is apparently your favorite word now, and the arrogant ass you rode in! Wait a minute, YOU are the arrogant ass. I didn't judge you when you fucked your buddies or your little dicked husband or your big dicked boyfriend, so leave who I date and who I sleep with out of your world. IT...IS...NOT...YOUR...BUSINESS, not any more. It hasn't been for years. Now, tell me you understand!"
She had been getting paler and paler, and when I finished my tirade, she ran into the house in tears. Another civilized conversation with my ex. It had been over four years, why couldn't she leave me alone?
I asked just that question two nights later, to the table of my friends.We had gotten together at O'Brien's as a welcome home. Lew grinned, and Vik and Mona laughed. "What?"
"She's still in love with you, you idiot! Everyone but you can see it. I know a little, and I tell you she's changed, or trying to."
I looked at Mona in wonder, when Bill chimed in. He had been moody when his French lover left him, but as his reputation grew and his victories rolled in, almost every woman in Jacksonville, the northern part of the state, and southeast Georgia seemed determined to fuck him, and he didn't fight it much. Hells bells, I think the Jacksonville Jaguars cheerleading squad would have fucked him as a group if he showed the slightest bit of interest. And they all seemed to have one thing in common. Almost all were blond, beautiful, and extremely well endowed.
"I know for a fact she's been seeing Teller. You know he's one of the best, and I've seen her, time to time, coming out of his office."
"I'm glad. If a woman ever needed help, it's Tiffany. But if you'd heard the rant I got the last time I saw her, you'd change your mind pretty fast about her loving me."
Mona rolled her eyes. "Men really are idiots. Her rants are a cry for help, a way to get you to see her. If you'd call her up and say "be at my condo at eight, naked and in the bedroom", she'd tear the front door off the hinges to get in."
"Yes, and then she'd put on her running shoes and scurry back into her safe zone. It's never going to happen, Mona."
"We'll see. Did you know we sit on a few of the same charity boards? The first thing she said to me when we met was that my husband was a very good lawyer. Everything after that was all about you. She once made fun of your writing, and it was all I could do to not tell her. I didn't talk to her the next two meetings. She hasn't said a word about your writing since."
She grinned again. "That's all going to change, soon. Ready for your coming out party? You're not going to back out, are you? It's been pretty damn hard being a publicist whose client won't appear in public."
"No, it's for a good cause, and it's time. I took a sabbatical from the firm, and honestly, I'm not sure I'll ever go back. I'm ready."
............
Even as Mona put the finishing touches on her makeup and straightened the seams on her hose, she was fuming. She used to love functions like this but the hassle of finding the perfect date and making sure he behaved was getting a little old. They all expected her to drop on the bed and spread her legs when it was over. It seemed like everyone she had sex with had an agenda.
Of course, as their most successful female, her firm wanted her to get as much facetime as possible. Her assistant had been excited she was going. "HE'S going to be there. I wish I could go but tickets have been sold out since the announcement that he was going to do a book signing. It will be the first time he's appeared in public. You have to tell me how he looks tomorrow. He has to be handsome, he just has to! Tell me everything, okay?"
"Who in the world are you talking about, Hillary?"
"B. Davis. Both his books have made me cry, but his last one is very powerful, and there is no traditional happy ending. Still, I couldn't put it down when I got it. It took two boxes of tissue, but I finished it in one go. If he's giving autographs, will you get me one?"
Tiffany had seen the billboards all over town. A bedroon scene, it featured a four poster bed, with shoes lined under it, the length of the bed. All were high heels, four inches or better, Jimmy Cho's, Loubotons, other famous designers. She owned a lot of the same shoes. And right in the middle there was a pair of bright pink Nikes. The caption read "Running Shoes Under The Bed," by B. Davis. Something about them made her uneasy every time she saw one.
Tiffany only read newspapers and trade journals, a fact that had irritated Bruce no end. She grinned, thinking every time Bruce saw those billboards, it would tear him up. Another successful writer, and it wasn't him. The book was apparently red hot and flying off the shelfs. She'd heard a review of it on talk radio, and the reviewer gushed about how intensly emotional it was. It was currently fifteen on the bestsellers list, and expected to hit number one in less than a month. The rumor in the trades said there were six production companies in a bidding war for the video rights, and the figure 12 million was being tossed around.
Tonight she didn't have to worry about her date being an octopus disguised as a man. Her 'date' for the night was her oldest daughter, who'd almost thrown a fit when she found out she was going. She finally let her, knowing she could use her as an excuse to leave early, and it would expose Kaitlyn to adults in situations she'd never encountered before. It would probably be an eye opener for her.
They were going to a charity fundraiser, a five hundred dollar a plate dinner and dance, the proceeds going to help victims and survivors of the terrible assault that took place on the grounds of the old courthouse. A drug cartel had gone after the judges and DA. The DA was unharmed, but many innocent bystanders, most some part of the legal profession, were gunned down without mercy. She remembered reading about it, very glad of the jobs she and Bruce held, away from violence and strife.
Her tablemates were Mona and Lew Walters. She had hated him at first, but later came to admire him. He hadn't tried to stick it to her as opposing attorney in her divorce case, he'd just asked for what the legal system deemed a fair split. Still galled her no end to let go of that money. Mona she loved, even though she wanted to hate her at first. And when she found out they were still in close contact with Bruce, she couldn't help subtly pumping her for information about his activities. Mona caught on fairly early, and would just grin and change the subject.
They met at the entrance, and Tiffany was suddenly glad she had taken a little care in her appearance. Everyone had gone all out. The gowns were dazzling, hair elaborate, makeup perfect. Kaitlyn was a living doll in the long gown she'd gotten her, her hair arranged in an artful braid, with just enough makeup to highlight her almost perfect face. She definitely didn't look like a child any more and she realized there were going to quite a few nights in the not so distant future where she wouldn't be able to sleep until her baby was safely home after a date. The girl had been grinning like she had a secret she could barely contain all afternoon, and it was driving Tiffany crazy that she was so insistent that she dress up. She was suddenly grateful she had. Mona had a grin plastered to her face, matching Kaitlyns', and they whispered to each other as they hugged, grinning bigger when they broke. Something was going on, she felt sure, but she couldn't figure out what.
They found their table, and she accepted a kiss on the cheek from Lew, smiling when Kaitlyn turned her head. Lew leaned down and planted a gentle kiss, then seated them. There was a general hubbub, but it wasn't so loud they couldn't talk. "All right, spill it! Why are you three grinning like monkeys?"
Mona acted surprised. "Is it that obvious? All right, we lured you here to meet someone. Stop frowning Tiff, I think you'll like him. At least, I hope you do. I know Kaitlyn does. No, we won't tell, so stop asking. Sit back, enjoy the meal, the speeches if you can. There's going to be a few special events before the orchestra starts up, local celebrities will be about. I hear there are going to auction off a few signed Jaguar jerseys, that sort of thing. There's even going to be a local writer here, signing two hundred copies of his book, all for the charities of course."
Tiffany sighed, knowing she was going to be in for a long evening, especially when Kaitlyn said she wanted to meet the writer. Still, she had her firm to represent, so she mingled, pressed the flesh, said hello to a few old friends. Mort Bailey, now over eighty and retired but still in good health, was there with his granddaughter. Tiffany remembered playing with her when she was a girl. Matt Henry was also there, with his wife, whose hair finally matched his. She had a moment of sadness, thinking her mother would love this, but she was currently living in Miami, receiving therapy at an on site community. She had finally gone too far with the wife of one of her lovers and hurt the woman. It was court ordered, but it was better than jail, and was horribly expensive. In a move that surprised her, Mort and the partners were footing the bill, a nod to her loyal service. And, Tiffany suspected, payment for the many sexual adventures she had given them over her employment. It was going on two years now. If she cooperated with the program, she could be releashed in less than a year.

[Ramesh_Rocky]

It irritated her that almost all were grinning at her, like they got the joke and she hadn't. What in the world was going on?

The speeches were not too long, thank goodness. It was an off year so no one was running for anything. After thanking everyone for attending, the MC made a few announcements, telling how much the fundraiser had brought in, and that 90% was going directly to the charity, thanks to the efforts of Mona Walters and a few others. Mona smiled and waved when the spotlight hit her. Then he spoke again.
"We've got a silent auction going. Some work by local artists, CD's by local singers, all on hand to personalize a message, some sports memorabilia, and lastly the writer B. Davis is going to make his first ever public appearance here in Jacksonville, and sign three hundred copies of his latest book, the megaseller Running Shoes Under The Bed. That's a hundred more than he committed to, but the demand was pretty heavy. They are three hundred apiece, but remember, it's for charity, and he will personalize every book. He's coming out now to make a short speech and take his place at the table. Ladies and gentlemen, B. Davis!"
The applause surprised Tiffany in it's volume and duration. Maybe she needed to read that book. The man strode on stage, resplendent in a suit that had to be Armani or Brooks Brothers, his hair perfect, his black shoes gleaming. When he stepped into the light, she almost fainted. She felt hands in hers on both sides, Kaitlyn's and Mona's. There, on stage, looking as good as she'd ever seen him, was Bruce!
He grinned at the crowd. "Well, the secret is out. B. Davis is none other than local boy Bruce Davis. Many of you know I struggled with my writing for years, until I got some advice and a lot of help from some very good friends. They, and one or two that I will not name, made me the writer I am today. I want to publicly thank them for their faith, and in one or two cases, their lack thereof. It all contributed. I'll be taking my seat soon, and remember, this is for a good cause, so open those wallets and purses. Thank you for coming out tonight."
He stepped back into the shadows, reappearing at the table after the auctions were over. There was already a line.
Tiffany felt like she had fallen down the rabbit hole. It was almost surreal. Kaitlyn was grinning, and she suddenly realized she had known all along, and so had Mona. She turned to Mona. "How long have you known?"
Mona smiled, rubbing the three month bulge of her second child. "From the very beginning. I'm on his team as his publicist. It's been a very difficult job, because he didn't really want publicity. I know a lot of it was him not wanting you to know. He said if you found out and criticized him, it would tear his heart out. All this time, Tiff, and he still can't get over you."
It hit her like a ton of bricks. He had achieved his lifelong dream, and she wasn't beside him. It just wasn't fair. She said as much to Mona, and was shocked when she slapped her face, eyes blazing.
"You want fair? Let me tell you how he became a success. He used your money, bypassing the system, and self publsihing. I want you to think about something. If you hadn't belittled his dream, and invested in it, you might be standing right beside him now, beaming, sharing in the realization of your husband's ambition. He would have been everything you said you wanted from him before the divorce. Instead, you're standing on the sidelines, forced to watch." She reached down, coming up with a copy of his book and slamming it down on the table hard enough to make the glasses dance.
"Now get your ass up and get in line! Let him know that you're finally proud of him. It might mean something to him."
"I'd look a fool! What could I possibly say?"
"How about, congratulations on your success, I'm happy you got your dream? Anything at all, as long as it's positive."
"Come on, Mom. I'll go with you."
She let her daughter pull her up, and walked slowly, feeling like she was going to an execution. Ther must have been some kind of signal because the crowd parted and let her go to the front of the line. Bruce hadn't look up, so he was surprised when she spoke. "Congratulations, Bruce. Seems like with a lot of things in my life, I was wrong about your ability as a writer. I wish you continued success." She held up the book, looking at the cover again." This is about us, isn't it, about what I drove you to?"
He smiled warmly. "You don't know how much that means, coming from you. I see you have a book, please, let me sign it. And yes, the story is about us, more specifically me and how I dealt with our split. Read it Tiff. I was not unkind to you in it."
He scribbled his name and handed it back to her. She felt slighted. "That's it? Your name? I would have thought there would be more."
Bruce grinned. "Look at the dedication, Tiff."
She opened the book to the front. There it was. "This is for Tiffany, with love. Without her none of this would have been possible."
That's when the tears started. Kaitlyn and Lew gently guided her back to her seat. She sobbed for a bit, ignoring the people staring. "I've ruined my life, Mona, along with his. I was an arrogant bitch and karma bit me right in the ass. I hope he finds someone to love, someone who gives him back the joy I stole from him all those years."
Mona leaned in and smiled, her words gentle. "Bitch, don't make me slap you again. He doesn't want anyone else. It's you he wants, and it'll always be you. But you have to change, girl. You have to let him in. Look at me! I betrayed my husband, treated him horribly for a long time, and have been regretting it ever since. He didn't deserve what I did to him. Eventually, though, we found our way back to each other. We found ways to love each other again. If we can do it, anyone who wants it bad enough can do the same. Are you up to it?"
She looked across the hall, watching Bruce share a slow waltz with their daughter. When had he gotten so graceful? She lost sight of him, but determined to make amends, she stood up. Just then Kaitlyn appeared. "He's leaving, Mom. You shook him up pretty bad, and he left."
She looked at her mother, her fifteen year old eyes looking thirty. "Well, are you going to go after him?"
She literally ran across the hall, but it was too late. She found out from Mona he was off on a book signing tour, as well as appearing on some talk shows, and sit in at a few writer's workshops. She cried all the way home while Mona drove. Kaitlyn and Kristen put her to bed, both climbing in and snuggling with her. It gave her enough peace to be able to sleep.
..................
I was getting a little tired of being considered the literary prince of the moment. I was just a guy, a fact I reinforced at every workshop. I had my speech down pat. "I was pretty much a talentless hack for a lot of years, until something very painful happened. It took a few years, but it woke me up. My advice for when you're stuck is to listen. To yourself, and those around you. Everybody's got a tale to tell. And if you have pain, draw on it, own it, exorcize it with your words."
There were a few more writers there, and each made a contribution to the discussion. We were onstage at a small college, the hall filled to the brim with aspiring writers hanging on every word. It was being taped for the local access channel the college ran. Done with the discussion, they opened the floor for questions.
"I have one," said a woman as she walked onstage, carrying a huge handbag. I found out later it had taken a thousand dollars in bribes to get on to the stage. She told them she was my wife and it was my birthday, and she wanted to surprise me. That part, at least, was true. I never in a million years would have expected to see Tiffany on that stage.
She stopped right in front of me. My eyes went wide when I saw her. We were five hundred miles from home. She was dressed immaculately, looking as attractive as I'd ever seen her.
"What are you doing here, Tiffany? Come all this way to belittle my success? Jesus, Tiff, can't you just leave me alone?"
She looked at me, sadness etched on her face. "I will, Bruce, just as soon as I say what I need to say. I needed a few visual aids, to make a few points. I hope you understand."
First to come out of the purse was a brand new pair of pink Nikes. She placed then gently on the floor in front of me. Then she placed some papers, and a small box on the table. Next was a container of charcoal fluid, which she doused on the shoes.
" I know I was fucked up for a lot of years, but the therapy and banishing my mother from my life helped tremendously. I love you, I've always loved only you, and though it might not mean much to you, here I am. I'm yours, if you'll have me. My body, my soul, all my money, everything I have or am. All of it. I'm finally ready to be one. The papers are a complete statement of my assets, the bank account information, all ready for you to sign so we hold them jointly. There's also a prenuptial stating that I have no right to any money you've earned through writing or your ad career. And I sold the house, too many ghosts for both of us. The girls and I will want to express opinions, but wherever you buy and whatever you buy, we'll make it a loving home. I'm asking you in front of all these witnesses to marry me again. Give me another chance, let me be the wife I should have always been."
She shocked everyone by pulling out a grill lighter and a small but deadly looking revolver and laying them on the table. He felt the whole hall suck in a breath. "This pistol is to remind you that we belong to each other. If you ever cheat on me I'll use it to blow your balls off. If I fall or go back to my old ways I want you to put it to my head and pull the trigger. Now, this is just a symbol, but I hope you take it in the spirit it was given."
She was on her knees by then, taking the small box and opening it. Inside were matching bands, intricately carved, small diamonds gleaming. She held them up.
"Bruce Davis, will you be my husband? My equal partner, the true love of my life? Can you find it in your heart to join me as one?"
She lit the shoes, and small flames leaped up. "That's it, baby, no more running shoes. Do you accept my proposal?"
She looked desolate, tears running down her cheeks as she knelt there, eyes full of hope and terror. Her mascara was running, her eyes were red, her hair a little mussed now, but all in all she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It took me a few seconds before I was able to speak and I saw the tears start to flow faster. I got down on my knees with her, taking her hands.
"Yes, I accept, except for one small thing. This has to go. As one, remember?"
I tossed the prenuptial on the fire with the shoes, and we remained on our knees, embracing, touching, murmurring our love to each, ready to finally, after all these years, start our lives together as one. The audience had heard the whole exchange, and though they didn't understand it they started clapping and cheering wildly as security ran around with fire extinguishers while one grabbed the pistol. We watched a video of it later, but never heard any of it as we embraced and kissed. Finally, someone helped us to our feet, and she clung to me like I might drift away. I asked for a microphone, and introduced her to the crowd as my wife.
*****
Well guys, there it is. My demon laid to rest. Thanks again to DQS and my friends. You make it worth writing. And as always, thanks for reading.
Q