5 comments/ 34400 views/ 4 favorites Her Husband's Ex By: bradley_stoke Although Ken had never introduced her to his ex-wife nor even discussed her very much at all, his wife knew a great deal about Sonya. In fact, Caitlin knew much more about her husband's ex than she really should have done. In a sense, Ken was as much to blame as Caitlin's curiosity and jealousy. He was the one with the woeful understanding of data security. Had it never crossed his mind that his wife of two years' marriage and a total of three years' acquaintance might want to know more about Sonya? After all, they'd been married for over seven years. When Caitlin first met Ken at that fateful office party, he was a huddled diminished figure still moping about his recent divorce to his first wife—and clearly not yet reconciled to it. Nevertheless, Ken revealed to his second wife only the sketchiest of details about the woman who had been central to his life for so long, a woman whose name occasionally and accidentally surfaced during their lovemaking, and to whom she sometimes felt as if she were just a successor. But she wasn't Sonya Version 2. She wasn't just an upgrade from the previous model. She was her own independent woman, even if it was an independence that had persisted more or less uninterrupted all her life until she met Ken. Originally, it must have been quite different for Ken and Sonya. They were both marketing executives, more at home with the nonsense they were responsible for mailing to existing or potential customers than they were with the real facts they also gathered about the public's perception of the products they marketed. Neither of them worked in an industry where results were tested by an army of analysts rather than by vacuous statistics. Caitlin worked as a systems administrator and couldn't understand the ethos of a profession focused on customer perception and market penetration rather than such reliable indicators as productivity and reliability. However, just as Caitlin had no real appreciation for the value of marketing neither had Ken any but the most rudimentary knowledge about the operating system or software on the laptop computers he'd acquired over the years, either for personal use or for work. He never bothered with passwords unless they were mandatory and, even then, he invariably used the same three letters for the password as he did for his first name. And Ken stored everything on his laptops, which was secure only in that the data was never backed up and therefore could only be found on the laptop on which the files were first created. At first, it was mere nosiness that tempted Caitlin to turn on Ken's laptop when he wasn't home and skim through the directories that radiated from his My Documents folder. They'd been living together for three months by then and Ken had just the night before proposed marriage. It was only to be expected that Caitlin might want to explore Ken's computer to discover all the facts about her fiancé that he had been so reluctant to divulge. And that was the first time that Caitlin ever saw an image of Sonya. As his ex-wife's marriage to Ken had been a childless one, despite all those years of opportunity and effort, there had never been a good reason for Ken to see her again and Caitlin could see even less reason why she should be invited to their wedding. The Sonya in the hundreds of photos stored haphazardly in Ken's My Pictures folder was a woman who, Caitlin was gratified to see, she resembled in almost no detail. Sonya was a slight woman with short dark hair and with almost nothing to match Caitlin's rather more splendid bosom. She dressed in jeans and tee-shirts—but, like almost everyone Caitlin had met in marketing, was eager to flaunt the designer labels of her otherwise undistinguished clothes. The thin nose on her small face was brilliantly complemented by a perfect set of teeth and wide green eyes. It didn't comfort Caitlin one bit to admit that Sonya was a very pretty woman. And, although no one could say that Caitlin was unattractive, even if she was less slim than her predecessor in marriage, Sonya was patently the prettier of her husband's two wives. Caitlin resisted the temptation to delete the photo files from Ken's hard drive, even if their memory was so vivid when she regarded the rather fewer photos of her that Ken took on his digital camera and mobile phone. How could Ken bear to be parted from Sonya? However much Caitlin resisted the calories, however much she spent on manicures and haircuts, however much she invested in face cream and make-up, she could never hope to match Sonya's unadorned beauty. She ruffled her blonde hair over her face or pulled it tightly back. She drew in her breath so that her breasts became even more prominent and her stomach temporarily less so. But whatever she did couldn't change the facts. Ken had left a woman that few men would ever be so lucky to have known and was now living with a woman who very few men before him had ever chosen to sleep with. No wonder Ken had found the break-up so difficult. "Why did you and Sonya separate?" Caitlin asked Ken after they had made love and he was at his most vulnerable. "Divorce," corrected Ken bitterly, with a grunt. "Divorce, then," said Caitlin, not to be distracted. "Why?" "Well, you know," said Ken as inarticulate and evasive as ever. "Things. Stuff. It just wasn't to be." "Did she split from you or did you split from her?" Caitlin persisted. "Neither. Both. I don't know. Mutual. Why do you ask?" "I just want to know about the man I'm about to marry," said Caitlin, tweaking her fiancé's still slightly tumescent penis. "Is there some dark secret I should know about? Why did you and your ex-wife divorce? Was there something you did?" "Erm..." said Ken, whose penis was beginning to twitch with reawakened desire. "It wasn't me." "Are you sure?" asked Caitlin with a teasing smile as she cupped Ken's testicles in her palm and pecked her lips on its awakening glans. "You weren't unfaithful, were you? You weren't playing the field?" "No, I wasn't," confessed Ken. "It wasn't me who was unfaithful. It was Sonya." "And who was she unfaithful with?" persisted Caitlin, pushing her advantage as she lifted herself up over her fiancé. "Not your best friend, was it? The usual cliché?" "No, not at all," said Ken increasingly desperate to return to the lovemaking Caitlin was directing his desire towards. "It was a work colleague. Someone in advertising." When Caitlin next accessed her fiancé's laptop, she pored through the photos for any evidence of the man from advertising that tempted Sonya from her husband. But, although Sonya was photographed with many men, both friends and colleagues, there was no man whom Sonya seemed any closer to than the husband so clearly besotted with her. Caitlin still had access to Ken's private data after they married, though there was no evidence of Sonya on the newer laptops and a great deal more of Caitlin. Which is how it should be. Sonya was becoming a progressively distant memory and Caitlin was now the woman in Ken's life. But was it merely a guilty and secret jealousy that returned Caitlin to those old photos on Ken's old Sony Vaio? And why did she have a persistent curiosity about her husband's former life? Caitlin recognised it as a symptom of her insecurity. After all, she had got together with Ken on his rebound. What was there to ensure that she wouldn't just be wife number two in what could be an ever-longer series of wives stretching into the future? Every now and then, Caitlin would turn on Ken's old laptop and scan through the pictures stored there. Unlike printed copies they didn't fade at all with time and looked as fresh and immediate as when they were first taken on what must once have been an expensive digital camera. And there was Sonya, smiling and tightly gripping Ken's hand. Or was Ken responsible the one for the tight grip? There was something desperate about it. His body language didn't suggest confidence and contentment. He must have known the end of their relationship was nigh. But who was the one who would take his wife from him? "Don't you know?" said Ken's marketing colleague, Vincent, when Caitlin discreetly asked him while her husband was in the pub toilet. "You two have been together yonks and you don't know! It was quite a scandal in its own small way." "What was?" asked Caitlin, anxiously eyeing the swing door where Ken had left the crowded pub. He wasn't a man who usually wasted time on the lavatory. "The person who Sonya left Ken for wasn't a man at all," said Vincent. "A woman?" guessed Caitlin. "I guess it couldn't be anything else, could it?" said Vincent. "It's not likely to be something other than a man or a woman. Yeah, it was Liz. What's more, she worked for our company. Not for Sonya's. She's still around—though, luckily for Ken, she's not based in the Burgess Street office. Advertising moved over to North Road about two years ago. Just before you and Ken got married." Caitlin nodded. Then she noticed the toilet door open and Ken emerge. He was shaking the dampness off his hands that the drier hadn't blown away. "Don't tell Ken I asked," hissed Caitlin. "I don't want him to think I've been prying or anything." "Of course not," said Vincent standing up to let Ken squeeze through to the seat next to Caitlin. "Want another drink?" he asked the couple. "It's my round." This new revelation radically changed Caitlin's view of the people who surrounded Sonya in the photographs on Ken's hard drive. It wasn't a man she was looking for in the smiling posed figures that tempted Sonya away from her husband. And it wasn't one of Sonya's less frequently featured friends or colleagues. It was one of those sharp-dressed advertising women who hovered around the periphery of Ken's marketing colleagues. But which one? Was it the woman in the too-short skirt and the too-red lipstick? Was it the one with the twiggy legs that were not at all flattering in her ridiculously short skirt? Was it the slightly chubby woman in checked trousers and short hair? It was a cliché, of course, to assume that Sonya's lesbian lover would have short hair and wear trousers. Plenty of straight women preferred to cut their hair short and not wear a skirt. It might well be that the woman whose qualities were deemed greater than even those of Ken's might be the woman with mousy hair that fell straight onto her shoulders and had a predilection for lace and tortoise-shell. Up until now, Caitlin had viewed Sonya as some kind of a rival. She wasn't a rival in the sense that she and Sonya were actively vying for her husband's hand in marriage, but more one for the primacy of his affection. Caitlin never before had any real sympathy for the woman, although she reluctantly recognised a debt of gratitude to Sonya's infidelity for releasing Ken from wedlock and blessing Caitlin with three years of pre-nuptial and marital bliss. It was true that Caitlin found Sonya attractive, but that had rather the opposite effect of endearing the woman to her. Only now had Caitlin discovered an unsuspected allegiance with her husband's ex that softened her hitherto negative attitude. Despite her love for Ken and her undeniable appetite for sex with him, there had been a time in Caitlin's adolescence when she wasn't convinced that this was the flavour of sex for which she was destined. Caitlin wasn't certain she found men attractive at all. Although her friends gushed about the supposed merits of the boys they fancied, whether in real life or in the movies, whether exhibited in the school playing field or in the glossy girls' magazines, Caitlin wasn't convinced. She had less difficulty in appreciating the allure of other women, a preference that still remained with her however much she now associated sexual satisfaction with a man's body and, most of all, his penis. But, in these early confused days when Caitlin's bosom merely hinted at the glories to come, when her closest friends and confidantes were other girls and when boys were distantly viewed acne-covered figures, Caitlin was persuaded that it might be other girls rather than boys towards whom she was most drawn. However, despite a few discouraging fumbles and an embarrassed kiss and cuddle with her closest friends, this phase of Caitlin's youth was soon behind her. She now believed she was heterosexual and that, although she still didn't really find much physical appeal in men, there was a whole lot that more than compensated. After all, what tackle did a woman carry that could compare with what a man had between his legs? Caitlin's interest in her husband's ex-wife remained mostly academic until she noticed a new and different pattern emerge in Ken's behaviour. The bouquets of roses and the passionate lovemaking may have been designed to allay Caitlin's suspicions—but combined as they were with late night meetings in the office and a new need to work extra hours they had rather the opposite effect. Caitlin had read her women's magazines carefully and knew that it was a common phenomenon for a cheating husband to try and compensate for his guilt by being more rather than less romantic with his wife. And, in any case, Caitlin detected cat's hairs on Ken's suit. They didn't own a cat and none were likely to be wandering about the office. There was also a slight whiff of perfume quite unlike any that Caitlin used but which invariably accompanied Ken after a late night out. And always the same brand of perfume. It would be a waste of time to confront Ken directly. It might, after all, precipitate exactly the breakdown in their relationship that Caitlin dreaded most. Instead, she took the easier option of logging onto her husband's poorly secured laptops. Caitlin was able not only to browse through the data files Ken had saved, but also to view his mail. In any case, the files were generally rather boring. There were a few downloaded pictures and movies that did little more than confirm to Caitlin that her husband shared the same general sexual fantasies as most other men. The e-mails stored in Outlook were not really much more interesting. Ken was no more forthcoming and articulate in print than he was in person. However, when Caitlin switched to Internet Explorer and clicked on the Hotmail bookmark then she found what she was looking for. In truth, it wasn't that compromising. The woman that Ken was corresponding with—assuming that Q18-Sunshine was a female nym—was quite discreet and Ken—imaginatively known here as Ken123456—stretched his prose only as far as specifying dates and places at which they could meet. But what disturbed Caitlin the most was that although the woman Ken wrote to had a nym beginning with a different letter, she signed off as S and was addressed as such by Ken—who signed off, inevitably, as K. However, nothing was conclusive. Many women's names began with S, not just Sonya, and it was just possible—although this was an increasingly slim hope—that Ken was not so much having an affair but simply a platonic friendship that he understandably didn't want his jealous wife to know about. But when, one day, Caitlin found Ken's mobile phone lying on the floor while he was watching a football match on television, the temptation to find out more was overwhelming. The phone was no more secure than the laptop and Caitlin had no difficulty in scanning through the list of received and sent calls. There were rather a lot associated with the single initial 'S'. There were also many associated with 'C', which Caitlin assumed was herself, but that was little comfort to her. Who was 'S'? "Ken!" answered an excited female voice at the end of the line when Caitlin speed-dialled the number. The respondent obviously also kept a name in her list of Contacts. "Sonya," said a rather less excited voice when Caitlin redialled the number from her landline, after she had abruptly cut off the earlier call. "Hello. Who is it?" the voice asked more cautiously as Caitlin paused while she wondered what to say. "It's Ken's wife," said Caitlin baldly. There was embarrassed silence from the other end of the line, followed by a hesitant: "Erm...?" "I found your number on Ken's phone," continued Caitlin. "It was you who just...?" "Yes." "Erm..." "I think we've got something to talk about," said Caitlin. "Yes," said the thoughtful voice at the other end. "Caitlin, isn't it? Yes. I guess we do have something to discuss..." In the many films and television programmes Caitlin had seen, few of them gave her any practical advice on how best to react to her current situation. Generally, the bad news of discovering one's husband's infidelity was associated with a scene cut-off usually accompanied by some kind of a tune. This would sometimes be melodramatic, sometimes melancholic and never celebratory. However, when Caitlin put down the phone she didn't burst into tears, as she always imagined she would. Nor did she feel especially inclined to smash any crockery. Several cups and plates had already been secretly destroyed on the basis of rather less conclusive evidence of her husband's infidelity. In fact, Caitlin felt something rather akin to excitement in her anticipation of at last meeting her husband's ex. Ken didn't suspect a thing. Caitlin imagined he'd make the perfect foil in a movie about aliens masquerading as normal people. The only thing he did notice was Caitlin's renewed enthusiasm for sex. This was not quite what Caitlin imagined would be the case. Wasn't she supposed to be tearful, resentful and, above all, reluctant to indulge in that most intimate of intimacies? Instead, she persuaded her husband to fuck her more and for longer and with more variety than she normally did. Anal intercourse was usually a special treat, reserved for anniversaries, but as Ken's penis slid into her from behind Caitlin reflected that fairly soon there may no longer be a suitable occasion. When Caitlin lay on her side with her back to her husband's back as Ken breathed gently in his sleep, the thoughts that preoccupied her were as perverse as any she'd ever had. She had an image in her mind, not so much of letting rip with her bitterness and anger at Sonya when the two would meet, but of something altogether different. After all, Sonya was an extremely attractive woman and it was unlikely that Ken would ever truly lose his love for the woman he'd lived with for so long. Perhaps the only way to resolve the situation would not be by conflict and eventually, almost certainly, another divorce—only this time rather more acrimonious—but by some kind of compromise. And given that Sonya was so beautiful and, Caitlin had to admit, exactly the sort of woman she could envisage getting to know in a physical way, perhaps there was a satisfactory outcome that would be amenable to all interested parties. To Sonya. To Caitlin. And, given the nature of some of the images stored on his laptop, of some satisfaction to Ken—the apex of this triangle. When sleep eventually overwhelmed Caitlin in the early hours, the erotic image that remained with her was not of Ken's penis thrusting into her but one of the more innocent photos on the laptop of an office party which showed Sonya smiling and laughing in the arms of one of her female colleagues. "It's Sonya, isn't it?" asked Caitlin the following day of the slender woman who was nervously looking around at the sofas arraigned in the Starbucks where they'd agreed to meet. She was wearing a denim jacket and crushed velvet trousers, and what Caitlin thought was a terribly pretentious peaked cap over her short hair. The woman nodded her head. "Yes," she said nervously. "I'm here. You know. Here to face the music." The two women sat next to each other on the double sofa that was all that remained available in the relatively crowded coffee shop that Saturday lunchtime. Ken was with his friends, preparing to watch a football match in the living room of a friend whose long-suffering wife was either more accommodating than Caitlin or had found ways of being elsewhere when her home was invaded by a mass of testosterone and alcohol. Her Husband's Ex Both women had rehearsed their lines and contemplated their respective strategies. Caitlin recognised from her husband the marketing mentality in Sonya's approach, which was essentially to emphasise the positive aspects of the situation while glossing over the negatives. Not that there were many such positives. But what the two women had in common was that they had both independently reconciled themselves to admitting that mistakes had been made and to finding a painless way out of the situation. "You must understand," said Sonya, who Caitlin found steadily more enchanting as she became less tense and more relaxed. "Ken and I...We were married for so long... It was sort of inevitable... I know it's not good for you, but..." "It's not that I don't understand," said Caitlin who found Sonya's habit of fiddling with her dangling ear-rings endearing, even while reflecting that the same personality tic could just as easily be considered irritating. "But why then did you leave Ken for... for this other... Why did you leave him for this woman?" "You mean Liz? Yes, I thought... Well, I'd always been attracting to women... I thought she was the one. But it just didn't work out in the end." "And why was that?" "I guess I wasn't as much a lesbian as I thought I was." "Oh!" said Caitlin, who was actually quite disappointed by this discovery. The conversation with Sonya went remarkably well. That is, considering that the two women were ostensibly on opposing sides of what was a situation with no room for compromise. Sonya's view, and one which Caitlin couldn't really argue with, was that, in practical terms, it was Ken who would have to decide. Sonya might agree to no longer see Ken, but would Ken necessarily agree not to see Sonya? And Caitlin made it fairly clear that she would much rather that Ken stayed with her, however much she privately believed it unlikely. "I live just round the corner," said Sonya when the two women had stared long enough at their empty mugs of mocachino. "We can continue discussing things there." Caitlin's heart jumped. What was there left to discuss? Surely this was just an excuse which would be a prelude to realising the sexual triangle whose possibilities she had been subconsciously considering as she studied Sonya's small tapering fingers, her long arching neck and that little mole just under her lip? However, when Caitlin followed Sonya up three flights of stairs to her small one-bedroom apartment just two streets behind the main road, she soon knew for sure that sex was most certainly not uppermost in Sonya's mind. At least, not sex with Caitlin. It was more an opportunity to break open a bottle of Argentinean red wine, sit on her battered old sofa and, against the backdrop of a wall lined with paperbacks and CDs lit up by countless low wattage lamps. And for Sonya to reminisce about her life with Ken, agonise about her foolishness in divorcing him, and apologise, profusely, for having resuscitated their relationship. While Caitlin sat opposite Sonya, sipping her wine and regarding the CD collection that in so many ways was much more to her husband's taste and not at all her own, she contemplated the facts of her situation. It was no longer theoretical. It was real. Sonya wasn't going to leave Ken. And Ken wasn't going to leave Sonya. It was Caitlin who was the anomaly in the triangle, not Sonya. All that was required was for her to step aside so that Sonya and Ken could resume their relationship from where they left off. Then they could cuddle up on the sofa listening to those awful Oasis albums, watch those horrible Robin Williams movies and, no doubt, also watch those violent American television programmes that Ken loved and Caitlin found so disagreeable. And that huge white cat cuddled up against the radiator could now shed its fur on Ken's suits with impunity. It was halfway through the second bottle of wine that the time came for Caitlin to leave. Sonya was now rather maudlin as she reflected on the love for Ken she claimed to have now accepted would never be the same again. In any case, Caitlin knew she really must get home, although she was far too inebriated to confront her husband about his infidelity this evening. A conversation with Ken after he had spent an afternoon of drinking cans of beer with his friends was unlikely to be very productive. That confrontation would have to wait until tomorrow. "So it's up to Ken," slurred Sonya as she accompanied her guest to the door. Caitlin hesitated. All through the previous hour she had got steadily quieter and more reserved. What was there for her to say? She had maintained the pretence, partly for own sake as well as for Sonya's, that this was an incident that could be patched over. And, inappropriate as it must have been, Caitlin's thoughts vacillated from imagining her husband having sex with his ex to imagining what it would be like for Sonya and her to be making love. Never, curiously enough, of the three of them in bed together. She gazed into Sonya's eyes as she stood by the door, and past her at the room where they had been sitting for so long and where she had mostly spent her time looking for evidence of Ken, not only as the philandering husband but also as the man whose earlier soulmate was the beautiful woman in front of her. She knew Sonya was saying something. It seemed to be yet more of the stream of apologies by which she had been purging herself of guilt. But what Caitlin wanted to do was take advantage of the small and vanishing window of opportunity that would surely be closed altogether once she and Ken separated and had initiated the legal proceedings that she now knew was inevitable, and which she was already relishing as her revenge on the man for stealing three years of her life. Caitlin squeezed Sonya's hand in hers. The woman seemed confused, but continued to speak about how much she hoped this conversation would help patch their misunderstanding—as she now termed it. Sonya was even more confused when Caitlin grabbed the slighter woman around the waist, her fuller bosom against Sonya's much smaller one. And she was distinctly alarmed when Caitlin's lips pressed against hers and her guest forced her tongue onto the teeth whose whiteness and perfect symmetry had so mesmerised her. There was a moment, not too long but certainly not to be forgotten, when Sonya abandoned herself to the affects of the wine and her own confusion. This was brief but long enough for two mouths to tangle savagely, teeth clashing on teeth, tongue on tongue, and mascara and eyeliner to smudge. This was the small opportunity that became the only moment of pleasure, however sourly it might be later recalled, in the many months of separation, suspicion, pleading and resentment that would soon accompany the breakdown of Caitlin's marriage to Ken. The two women disengaged the one from the other, panting and red with both unresolved passion and embarrassment. "I don't know what happened to me..." said Sonya, who had already forgotten that it wasn't she who had initiated this moment of passion. "It must be my anxieties... It's just..." Caitlin pressed her hand on Sonya's shoulder. "It's all right," she said. "I understand." And with that Caitlin left, turning her head back just the once to see her husband's ex for one last time. Ever. As she now knew so well, Sonya may once have been her husband's past, but she was now destined to also be her husband's future. Her Husband's Fantasy James Chadwick checked the creases in the back of his pants in the full-length mirror in his office. He smoothed the fabric over his tight buttocks, and then examined his heavily starched shirt. He stretched and tucked his shirt into his pants more at the sides to make sure that it did not lap over his belt. James was not a very big man, standing five foot seven at a hundred forty-five pounds, though he appeared more slim than skinny. He had the look of a fashion model, but some would say that he looked a bit gay with his clean professional look. His elegant style commanded attention, but the gold band and his soft tone kept women at the plant at bay. James checked his cufflinks before walking out of his office. His secretary, Debbie Anderson scurried behind him with a notepad and a pen at the ready. She stayed close finding his soft-spoken voice hard to hear over the plant machines, besides she liked his scent. Workers who noticed him made themselves hurried at their tasks avoiding eye contact with him. James stopped at an assembly station. He noticed that the technician was using discontinued fitting tools, while the other workers used the upgrades. The technician stopped what he was doing to give James his attention. "What is your name, sir," James asked. He looked the man in the eyes, which made many of the homophobic men uncomfortable. "Ricky Lewis," the man answered. "Debbie, find Mr. Lewis' supervisor and have him to come down here please," James said. "Mr. Lewis, is there any particular reason you are not using the standard equipment?" "I was not issued the new equipment," Ricky replied. He leaned back trying to re-establish his personal space. Debbie was back in less than a minute with the assembly supervisor. "Mr. Mullins?" James said approaching the older man. "Could you tell me how we can expect workers to do their jobs if we don't provide them with the proper equipment?" The assembly workers tried to hide their smile as the supervisor, Mr. Mullins stuttered. "I know that the new equipment is here," James said. "I'll get it for him right away sir," Mr. Mullins replied. James followed Mr. Mullins' eyes. "Don't worry about that Mr. Mullins, you're fired." "Debbie, send out a memo to all the supervisors," James said not giving Mr. Mullins another thought. "It is the supervisor's responsibility to make sure that all workers be trained at their jobs and have the proper tools to do it with." He picked up the SOP for that assembly station. "I want every worker to be tested at their jobs, and if they fail, I want them trained until they know how their jobs are supposed to be done." Some of the workers who did not like Mr. Mullins wanted to cheer, but other feared that they could be the next one fired. Low mummers were heard mixed with the noise of the machines after James left the assembly floor. Mr. Mullins was still sitting in the parking lot at the plant when James left for the day. Neither of the men looked at each other. James held no ill will for Mr. Mullins. It was business, no more and no less. James stopped by the dry cleaners, the seafood market, the grocery store, and the movie rental store before rush hour could catch him on the road. His wife, Julia was having a few of her friends from the department store after she got off work. He wanted to surprise Julia with shrimp scampi and wine. It only took him forty minutes to cook up the dish after he had put away the dry cleaning and the groceries. He set the kitchen table with the delicious smelling dish and opened a bottle of wine. He relished the site of his perfectly set table as he heard the sound of cars pulling into the driveway. He removed his apron and gave himself a once over before greeting them at the door. James took out his wife's slippers and sat them in the foyer. He wanted for Julia to open the door, and then he took her by the waist. He turned her around and jammed her against the wall as he shoved his tongue in her mouth in a passionate kiss. "Woooooo!" the women clamored. Julia stepped out of her high-heel pumps and into her soft slippers as they broke their embrace. "Good evening ladies," James said with a smile. The women smiled and giggled. "What is that fabulous scent?" Barbara, Julia's co-worker said. "I thought you ladies might want a little snack," James said giving Julia another quick peck on the lips before picking up her shoes and took her purse. Tamara, the woman that worked in house wares at the department store, noticed how attentive James was being towards his wife. Lisa, another sales associate at the department store feasted her eyes on James' good looks. Lisa winked an eye at James, but he looked away as if he had not noticed. "He cooks too?" Tamara laughed. Julia blushed. "Watch out girl, he might be up to something," Barbara said. "You know how they do. Try to butter you up to get something or to get away with something." "I trust him completely," Julia said pouring the wine into the glasses. "You trained him well then," Lisa said. "Nope, he was like this when I met him," Julia said. "Com'on." The women laughed. "Tell me where you found him, honey...cause I show can use one like that," Barbara said. "Mmmmm...and this is so good." "There has to be something wrong with him," Tamara said. "Nothing," Julia said. "I love him just the way that he is." "You must really be putting a Mo-Jo on him in bed," Lisa joked. "He's not complaining," Julia said amusing the women. "...and neither am I." "You go girl," Barbara exclaimed. The women did not linger too long on Julia's love life as they had more gossip to share from their job. Many of their managers were transferred to other stores and there were rumors about some people being promoted. Julia was hoping that her name would be included in that list. Julia cleaned up after her co-workers and headed up to the master bath. James sat in the Jacuzzi tub filled with bubbles, drinking wine, and reading a novel. The light scent of coconut lingered from the bath oil and candles. "The ladies really enjoyed the shrimp scampi," Julia said unbuttoning her blouse as she sat on the edge of the tube. Her voice was low and seductive. "They were really impressed. I saw the look that Lisa was giving you. I'm sure she'd jump at the chance to get with you. Wouldn't you like me to watch you fuck her?" James put down the book and put his fingers to the arch of her right foot. He traced the line under her foot up to her toes, and then over the top and around to her calf. "What I would like is to watch you." His fingers continued slowly up her inner thigh. Julia tossed her bra on top of her blouse on the floor and worked the zipper on her skirt down. Her panties were soaked from the swelling of her cunt in anticipation of his touch. "You want to watch me with Lisa?" "No." He rubbed his fingers over her hot panty covered pussy. "I want to watch you get fucked hard by a bum." "Mmmmm." Her eyes rolled back in her head before she closed them. She spread her legs obscenely as she felt his fingers slip under the crotch of her panties. "I want to hear you moan as he drives his desperate dick into your sweet pussy." He twisted two fingers in her tight pussy. "I want to look into your eyes as you take his cock again and again." "Ahhhhh!" Julia lifted with the thrust of her husband's fingers. The thought of a strange man fucking her while her husband watched was a fantasy that crossed her mind a time or two. She grabbed hold of his wrist and closed her legs tightly as a small trimmer erupted deep inside of her. James felt that his manicured fingers were magic, because of how easily he could make his wife cum with them. To him, Julia was perfect. She was only a couple of inches shorter than him and each of her tiny little bubble butt-cheeks fit neatly in his hand. She had perfectly natural thirty-six D-cup size tits. Her belly was flat, but soft, not hard like women trying to fit an image. Julie was light with skin with just enough color to keep her from looking pale. Her skin was smooth and even just like his, and except for her hazel light-brown and green eyes, they could almost pass for twins. "Mmmmm." Julia opened her eyes and smiled. She removed her skirt and damp panties before sliding down in the opposite side of the big tub. "I'm I suppose to stand on the street corner like a hooker and let some guy pick me up?" James lifted her foot out of the tube and massaged it with his soapy fingers. "No. I would not want you to risk being arrested. There is a chain store down off Hamilton. I am sure it would not take long for some guy to try to pick you up with these gorgeous legs." Julia giggled as James ran his hand all the way up the underside of her leg. She quickly reached between his legs and grabbed his balls. "If I show my legs then you have to show yours." "I don't think so." James laughed. "Why not?" Julia began slowly stroking his hard cock under the warm soapy water. "No one could tell that you wasn't a girl on Halloween. You make a really good-looking woman and your butt look better than mine in a skirt. All you have to do is shave your legs and arm pits. It's not like you have a hairy body." She grabbed her razor and began sliding it across his lower leg. James' legs were not particularly muscular. He was athletic, but did not participate in anything more than tennis. He had a tight little cute butt that many women found attractive. He had done a great job passing as a woman at the last Halloween party they attended and several men tried to pick him up. James sat up on the edge of the tub and allowed Julia to shave his legs. They had gotten pedicures a few days earlier, so he would not have to do more than add polish to his toenails. He wasn't a hairy guy, so the hair came off with ease. "Smooth." Julia ran her hands down James' legs. She looked up at him and giggled as she cupped his balls. "Mmmmm." She took the entire length of his six inch hard cock completely in her mouth. James pulled her hair back into a ponytail as watched as she sucked vigorously on his cock as he sipped his wine. Julia rolled her tongue around the circumcised head and pulled on the shaft with her lips causing a popping sound when she released it. She slid a soapy finger under his balls and into his pucker to the second knuckle. James jerked up spilling his wine at the sudden intrusion. He came back down slowly as she worked the tip of her finger in and out of his butthole. "Arrrggh." He gripped the tub as Julia pushed the entire length of her finger up his ass and began to work another one in. He thrust his hips up fucking mouth as his asshole was stretched even more. "Oh yes! Fuck my ass!" He strained and jerked spasmodically as he shot his cream man juice into Julia's hot mouth. Julia held her fingers in the tight hole as she drank his cum. She found that finger fucking made his toes curl when she was sucking or fucking him. She rose after her fingers were forced out of the tight pucker. "I can hardly wait to see some guy nail your sweet ass." James said. Julia giggled as she stepped tub with help of a solid slap on her wet butt-cheek. "Awwww!" She giggled getting a towel and tossing one to James. She continued into her closet and chose a simple knit mini dress for her mission. She tried her best to hide her nervousness about caring out his fantasy. It was one thing to take off her clothes for strange men on amateur night at a strip club, but it was completely different to pick up a strange man and bring him home. She hid her nervousness behind her flirty smile, as she got dressed. "Don't wait on me." James adjusted the silicone breasts in the bra. "I'll be ready by the time you get back." "Okay, hot stuff." Julia popped his smooth naked butt-cheek with her open palm. James let her get away with the swat as he continued to adjust the fake boobs. He wondered could he get away with having boobs of his own. He chuckled as he squeezed the silicone through the bra. Julia fought the butterflies in her stomach. She felt like meat on a hook and completely naked by the way men were going out of their way to get a look at her. She could feel her dress rising and the eyes on her butt-cheeks. She struggled with the urge to yank her tiny little dress all the way to her ankles to hide her flesh. "Some body is very lucky." Julia turned locking eyes with a smiling young man. "Oh, thank you." She smiled nervously. "Your husband isn't afraid someone might still you away in such a pretty dress." Julia looked surprised by the young man's insight, but then he pointed out her wedding set. "Picking up a little wine for diner?" His eyes dropped briefly to the tops of her smooth breasts. He raised his eyes back to hers and smiled. Julia noticed the Gucci watch on the man's wrist and the small scuffmark on his shoes. "No, just some cheap wine to drink." "Merlot 1996...not all cheap wines are bad." Julia had recently read about good cheap wines with James. "I'm Darion, by the way." "Julia." She allowed him to hold her hand. "So, is it just you and your husband, or are you having company?" "My husband isn't there, but I have company." She smiled holding onto batting her eyelashes. "So, am I invited?" Darion locked his fingers in hers. "If you don't mind my friend watching..." She started walking letting her fingers linger. Darion looked upward with silent enthusiasm and followed Julia to the checkout counter. He moved in closer to her at the counter placing his hand to the small of her back. "You are so incredibly sexy," he whispered sliding his stretched fingers down over her butt-check and closing it firmly and then moved it back up to the small of her back. Julia could feel Darion's anticipation growing. "Follow me in your car and try to keep up." She winked her eye at him and headed across the parking lot to her car. Darion ran and jumped in his car and pulled in behind Julia as she exited the parking lot. It only took them a few minutes to arrive at Julia's home. Darion hurried to open the car door for Julia and got a glimpse at the crotch of her blue panties as she stepped from the car. He walked a couple of steps behind Julia to the door watching her butt-cheeks rise and fall under her thin dress. James wore one of Julia's gray pleated mini-skirts with a thick belt to make his hips look curvier. The black tight v-neck short-sleeved top showed off his fake breasts. He had gotten hairpieces that blended in with his highlights and blue eyes. He stood heel to toe in the four and a half inch ankle strap sandals in the foyer. "I see you bought something back with you." James took the bottle of wine from Julia and smiled at Darion. "Jamie, this is Darion. I met him at the store." Julia was amazed at how beautiful her husband looked. She could barely see the difference between James own hair and the extensions, but she doubted that any man could tell such a slight difference. She was staring harder than Darion. "It's nice to meet you." James raise his voice a couple of octaves and extended his hand to Darion. "The pleasure is all mine." Julia's eyes widened as Darion bought James' hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it. "Why don't you two go on into the den, while I get some glasses?" Darion turned walking with one foot in front of the other. "It's funny how beautiful women always seem to have beautiful friends." Julia smiled brightly knowing the Darion was completely fooled by James. The jitters she had felt earlier were gone. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from bursting out into laughter at the sight of the huge bulge in Darion's pants. She had not noticed it at the store. She could only assume that it had come from the sight of James in that mini-skirt. Darion placed his hand on Julia's ass and squeezed it gently in his hand. "Is she going to watch or will she join in?" He moved his hand from one cheek to the other. "You don't mind if she just watch, do you?" "Of course not..." He pulled her against his muscular body. "I just wondered if she wanted to join in." He smiled showing all of his teeth as he lifted the back of her dress. "You have a perfectly round ass." He moved a hand up and captured one of her succulent breasts. "She sure does." James winked an eye at Darion and handed him a glass of wine. "Luscious tits also..." "Really?" Darion reached into the top of Julia's dress and popped out one of her tits. "It looks luscious." He sat pulling Julia down to the sofa next to him. James brushed the back of his skirt under his butt as he sat. He crossed his ankles and pressed his thighs together. His cock was already hard seeing his wife's tit in the man's hand. He placed a hand over his crotch and sipped on the wine. "I am one lucky motherfucker." It was obvious that Darion was speaking to himself. He worked Julia's dress open and pulled it off her shoulders. He cupped both of her slightly hanging big tits in the palms of his hands. "Mmmm..." He clicked and sucked on one nipple then the other. Julia smiled keeping her eyes on James. He looked even prettier than he had at the Halloween party. His toes and fingers were painted the same color red as the glossy lipstick he wore. She allowed Darion to move her about as he stripped her completely naked. She leaned back on the sofa and smiled as Darion removed her heel. She did nothing to guide Darion as she watched James followed every move Darion made. James tried not to move. He didn't want to distract Darion. He felt electricity shoot all the way up his leg to his balls as Darion traced Julia's instep with the tip of tongue. James' cock strained against the thin fabric that was trying to hold it back. "Mmmmm." Julia took her eyes off James took her big toe into his mouth. His tongue slid between her toes as he cradled her calf in one hand and gently held her heel with the other. "You have lovely feet." Darion kissed the top of her foot, around to the bottom, and then down to her heel. He lowered her foot and slid his hands up her legs. "Your skin is so soft and smooth like butter on a hot summer's day." Julia lifted her butt as Darion stretched the waistband of her panties and pulled them off. "Your scent is intoxicating." Darion held the crotch of Julia's panties to his nose. He tossed the panties over his shoulder without looking to were they might land. "You're so sweet, I could eat you up." He pushed her thighs apart as he knelt on the floor between them. He began kissing her inner thighs making his way to her moist pussy. His hands slid under her butt-cheeks and lifted them slightly from the sofa. Julia glanced over at James and saw that he too was paying very close attention to what Darion was doing. She looked back as Darion covered her entire cunt with his hot mouth. His tongue pressed against her throbbing clit and then dug into her hot box. "Mmmmm." She arched her back as he lifted her ass completely off the sofa to his greedy lips. James leaned forward a bit seeing Darion's tongue flick out at Julia's click and his lips smacking on her cunt. James kept his hand over his crotch to keep his cock from making a bulge against the skirt. Julia's eyes rolled back in her head. She pinched her hard nipples between her forefinger and thumb, while spreading her legs obscenely for the stranger. "Ahhhhh." James tried to discretely stuff his cock between his legs. He could tell by the Julia's face distorted that she was cuming. Darion raised his head and began removing his shirt. "You are so fine." His upper body seemed thicker with his shirt on, but it was still very well defined. His pecks and stomach muscles were sculptured and the veins in his arms were swollen. He slipped off his shoes and then stood up in front of Julia and dropped his pants down to his ankles. Her Husband's Fantasy Julia and James' mouths dropped. Darion's cock popped straight out as if it had been paralyzed. His pubic hair had been shaved completely, even around his swollen balls. The head of the cock was shaped like a Storm Trooper's helmet. There was a dark right around the shaft just below the head where he had been circumcised. James guessed Darion's cock to be about nine and a half inches in length. It was very thick with a vein that seemed to be pulsating running along its length. The way it protruded from Darion's body, it looked article. James tightened his asshole. "Put those beautiful lips on it," Darion said thrusting it towards Julia's face. Julia looked almost cross-eyed at the peehole. She looked over at James showing him that her forefinger and thumb barely touched as she took hold of the massive cock. She smiled and then pressed her lips to the tip. She licked her lips and then stretched her mouth over the big head. James wet his lips as he watched his wife slid the massive cock head in and out of her mouth. He could see the cock expanding her cheeks as it entered her mouth. Julia's saliva quickly coated the length of Darion's cock making it glisten. She used both hands on the thick shaft then cupped his balls in one hand. James stuffed his cock between his thighs and crossed his legs when he saw Darion close his eyes. Julia was able to take his entire cock in her mouth with easy, but was barely able to get the head of Darion's dick in her mouth. Julia made slurping sounds as Darion fucked her mouth. "Ahhhh! Fuck!" Darion grabbed hold of Julia's head as his body began to jerk uncontrollably. His thick cum flooded Julia's mouth and spilled out over her chin, ran down her neck, dripped onto her tits, along his cock, and down her arm. His gunk seemed to splash out everywhere. The bubbles coming from Julia's mouth indicated to James that she was spitting Darion's cum out. "Oh fuck! Shit! That was awesome!" Darion reached for his wine and handed Julia her glass. He looked over and winked his eye at James. Julia saw the wink and Darion's eyes drop to James' smooth legs. She grabbed hold of Darion's cock and began stroking it again. "Turn that sweet little ass over." He sat his glass down and readied his big dick. Julia knelt on the cushions and leaned over the back of the sofa. James had good view as Darion guided his steel rod to Julia's pink little pussy. Julia's stretched around the big cock as Darion pushed it slowly into her wet cunt. James' cock jerked and his asshole tightened as he watched his wife's cunt expand to accommodate the huge tool. Julia's eyes showed a bit of desperation and determination as a vein swelled across her forehead. "Eeeeeggghh!" Julia strained as she pushed back on the huge cock. Darion also strained bighting down on his bottom lip, while pulling Julia by her hips onto his thick pole. "Shit! Give me a second." He took deep breathes to calm himself. "This is the tightest pussy I've ever had in my life." He started pumping his cock in and out using short strokes. James' foot moved up and down with the rhythm of Darion's strokes. Julia looked over at her husband as she tried to keep up with the motion of the sliding cock. She saw the same glazed over look on James' face that he had when he was fucking her. In spite of being stretched to no end, she was still amazed at how pretty her husband looked as a woman. It was clear that Darion was completely fooled. "Ugh ugh ugh..." Darion grunted as he increased his thrust. James squeezed his thighs tighter together as his swinging leg rocked him in the chair. He clinched his jaw and tighten stomach muscles as his asshole pulsated. "Ahhhhhhh!" Julia cried out as the rush of cum triggered her orgasm. James closed his eyes tightly as his cum shot back between his butt-cheeks and spread over his ass. Darion held onto Julia's his to keep his balance as his cock began to shrink. The room was silent except for the heavy breathing. The silence was broken by Darion's laughter. "That was the best..." He crawled over to James on his hands and knees. He caught James' foot and kissed his toes through the sandal. "Would you like her to watch you in action?" He ran his hand up James' leg to the calf and kissed the top of James' foot and the in step. James looked down at Darion, but did not say a word. "Ah, my husband will be home soon." Julia said slipping quickly into her dress. "I'm guessing that this was a one time deal," Darion said as Julia walked him to the door. "Sorry." "That's okay. I enjoyed every second and having your sexy friend watching was awesome." He groped her tits and ass before walking out the door. Julia found James standing at the full-length mirror without the skirt and panties. She stood next to him moving her hand over his butt-cheeks spreading his cum around with her fingers. "He had a really big dick." James said. "You look so pretty." Julia moved her middle finger between his butt-cheeks to his asshole. "I loved seeing that big dick going inside of you." His cock rose to full erection as Julia's finger pushed up his rectum. Her Husband's Name She is embalmed in white hospital sheets, also a stiff white blanket that makes her look as though she is wrapped in bandages. She lays still against a thin plastic pillow, covered with a crisp, starched case. Every so often her mouth moves, a cavity which is not really a mouth at all, but a puckered hole without lips or teeth. It is dry. She needs water. She can not see. She is uncomfortable, this barely breathing cadaver. A tissue of skin. A scaffold of bone with her wild white hair, her jaundice, her rising scent of decomposition. She is aware of her helpless state, her parched lips and ancient form, but she is cut off from the world. It has been years since she could communicate, compose intelligible sounds... She can only lie here as she is, judge time from the shadows inside her unseeing eyes. Her back is stiff. That back of hers, she moves to speculate, must be speckled with age by now- the skin would be mottled and creased and thinned out like tissue paper. But who ever sees their own back? You never plan on it changing. There are bits of your body you carry around all your life but never really own. She supposes that if anyone owned her back, it was her late husband, as he was the only one ever to see it regularly. Even in old age she thinks of her husband at least once every day- something will rear up and remind her of that brief marriage which in time has come to seem more like an enclosure she'd stumbled upon than a legal arrangement formally entered. It is a thought I would rather repress, not relive. He is always, in her recollections, lying in bed, waiting for her, a presence, a grief, an ache. But in fact, he had never once waited for her in bed, being occupied during the late hours, in his favorite chair, always reading the bible. She must, she thinks, get that part right... he had never awaited her. But what was his name? What was his name? Her husband's name? A suppressed pain. Fear. There is something careless about this kind of forgetting, something unpardonable, a great guilt. Her husband, her master. His face has the quality of a blurred photograph, yet she remembers his rough hands. His rough, calloused hands on her soft breast. She shudders. Feeling foolish she starts through the alphabet, trying to associate a name with each letter: Albert, Benjamin, Charles, Donald... It feels as if every last cell of her brain was driven into illness. Her lack of memory fills her with silent dread. Not my mind, Dear god not my mind! She tries to compose herself. Ernest, Frank... Letter by letter she continues to analyze the sounds and impressions. What is this? Dear god. Dear Jesus, sweet Jesus. George, Harold... She begins to suspect the answer is beyond her reach. She sends out fingers of desire, need, thought- tries to project them into her past, pull out something stable. The images seep through her fingers like fine sand peppered with doubt. Irving, Johnothan, Kenneth, Lyle... She has a deep envy of the living. She is tired of her half-existence. She is tired of being sad, tired of not even minding that someone her age should grieve. And in the thin bony box of her head she understands, and accepts, the fact that her immense unhappiness is doomed to irrelevance anyway. Why worry? Why yearn toward a dream that is doomed to be unfulfilled? Because it would ease my regret. The woman can't even express her inner turmoil to others, apart from holding onto a loud, scratchy moan. She does this, on occasion, to no effect. She feels a part of her wanting to go back to the things she used to like- the feel of a new toothbrush against her gums, for instance. Such a little thing that the nurses here overlook so often. She would like to polish a jar of canned tomatoes and set it on the top shelf with its mates. Lick an envelope, stick a stamp neatly in the corner, drop it in the mailbox. She'd like to clean her body out with a hoot of honest laughter. She'd like to sit on the toilet by herself. She can fantasize about her independence all that she wants. She can pray all that she wants I never was a praying woman and in the end she will still be where she is. She knows this. It is her station in life, the resolution of a rather mundane plot. She knows she has every right to brood, but she prefers to look forward toward her death. Even now she tries to wish it into existence. It is going to happen. All this suffering will be washed away. Any day now... she can feel it. She can hope. She revels in wonder that she can not bounce out of bed and go for a run down the streets of her youth at this very moment. Why is her body so unwilling, when her heart knows that it can be done? Why can't she even remember her husband's name? She does not realize she has lost her place. With renewed vigor she begins anew: Alfred, Boyd, Clifford, Dale...