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The Toy Box

By: wineryguy



I wrote this for a dear friend of mine and We hope that you will all get some enjoyment from it.

***** 

As I walked to the front door, I felt a little nervous, it had been along time since I saw my old Navy buddy. We were on the same ship during that mess with Vietnam. Man it seamed like a million years ago.

I still can't get over the fact that I am in my fifties for crying out loud. I knocked and in a matter of seconds this balding man with a pot belly opened the door, The years had not been to kind to my buddy Matt. "Damn Matt where the hell is your hair?" He just laughed and slapped me on the arm. God it was good to see my old friends smile again.

We walked into the kitchen and he introduced me to his wife Jan. I have to give him credit for one thing he knew how to pick his women, she was still a looker for her age, as unkind as the world had been to Matt it had been more than kind to Jan

I had planned on staying in town for a few day's so we could catch up on old times, But was sad to here that Matt and Jan were going to have to leave the next day for a family funeral, it was Jan's mom that had passed.

"I'm so sorry we have to leave so soon, I really wanted to be able to spend a couple of days with you and cover all the old stories." "Hell Matt don't worry about it I have a couple of things I want to check out in this area anyhow and besides just getting to see that your ok Is good enough for me" "Well at least please stay for dinner" "Are you sure about that I don't think Jan's going to want to be cooking at a time like this,"

It was just at that moment the front door opened and this sweet looking young lady walked in. Matt smiled and said "Ruthie honey I want you to meet one of my best friends," I took her hand in mine and smiled, "Hello I am very pleased to meet you my name is Rich and yes I have the honor of knowing this wild guy over here." "Ruthie's my oldest daughter and she is staying with us for awhile as she is finishing up her last year here at the collage."

Now I was not about to tell my buddy that his daughter was a hottie, but she was just the kind of women I admire, Not one of them skinny things but a women with some soft places that a man can lay his head without a bone poking him. 

"Ruthie honey I know you had a long day but would you please try to put something together for dinner for us, Mom needs to go and finish packing and its on the road early tomorrow, And I really want Rich to spend some time with us tonight." "Of course Daddy I would love to, You entertain your friend while I go change and then I will start dinner."

Dinner was great and we even got Jan in a better frame of mine, I think it helped her to have this distraction even if just for a little while. Soon after dinner was over Jan did excuse herself and went to her room to continue packing, I volunteered to help Ruthie with the dishes and that turned out to be a fun mistake.

I had picked up this stupid cup to dry not knowing it was darn near half full of water, As I grabbed it and started to flip it over I spilled most of it right on the front of Ruthie's shirt. I expected her to yell at me but she just smiled and reached into the sink got a handful of water and commenced to wash my face with it. We both just started laughing at that point, She gave me a towel and as I was drying my face, She grinned and said "do you think I might need to change my shirt" I looked down at her top and first there was no bra and second her nipples were hard as rocks, "Yes I think so and please before your dad comes in here" "better yet I'm going to go join him." I think I heard her say chicken as I left the room.

Matt and I just sat and talked about old times for awhile and then Jan joined us along with Ruthie. We all laughed and shared a few tamer stories, then I knew I better leave so they could get to bed. Matt said "I feel kind of bad having to leave like this, Hopefully we can get together again soon," "Matt count on it, I get this way once in awhile and I would love to get together under happier times." "Jan it was real nice getting to meet you" "Not sure why your with and ugly old fart like matt but you must have your reason's" We both just laughed and Jan said "Rich you are welcome here anytime please come back soon." "I will I promise, and I'm very sorry about you mom."

Ruthie walked over and smiled saying "I was happy to meet you also even though you are not any good at drying dishes" "You know I'm with my folks on this we all feel bad about the timing being off, But I can't go with them to the funeral because I have a mid-term I can't miss. If you would like I would love it if we could have dinner tomorrow night."

"Well that would be wonderful, us old guys always feel silly sitting in a restaurant by ourselves, here's my cell number please call when you are free to go." I walked over and gave Matt and Jan a finale hug and told them both how great it was to be with them." "Matt you take care and I will see you soon." Funny how those things get to you I had a couple of tears in my eyes as I went down the walk. But then I replaced the tears with a smile when I thought about dinner with Ruthie tomorrow. 

I spent the next morning just seeing the sight's and I wandered into the local Mall and looked though the store's wishing that the time would go buy faster. I felt a little silly somewhat like a school boy waiting for his new girlfriend to call. After all It was my old friends daughter and she was just being kind to her fathers old friend.

Finally after what seamed like hours my cell did ring and it was Ruthie. "Hello Rich is it still ok for tonight or do you have other plans?" "No I have no other plans and I am really looking forward to us having Dinner, How did your exam go?" "I think I did great, I felt very comfortable with the question's and never felt like I was lost, But I will not know until Monday what my grade will be." "Well if you feel that good about it you must have done real well. So I think this will also be a celebration tonight. How dose seven sound for dinner? that will give you plenty of time to get ready" "Great Rich I look forward to it, bye for now" "Bye See you in a little bit Ruthie"

I walked back to my car and headed back to the hotel. I had plenty of time to get a shower and shave again, and I wanted to change into my suit. I called down to the desk and talked to the concierge and he suggested a very nice restaurant in the city. He said he would call and get reservation's and if I needed any thing else to please call. I thought about getting theater tickets but was not sure of Ruthie's taste's, So I decided that dinner and drinks after would be appropriate for our first meeting.

When I parked my car in front of the house I was not ready for the sight I was seeing, This lovely young lady with long hair cascading down her back was coming down the walk towards me, She was not the young girl I talked with the night before, in her place was a women that makes men's heads turn and young men wish they had the nerve to speak to her, She was lovely in a long Black dress with a knee high slit up the side.

I quickly moved to her side of the car and held the door open for her. "My lady you are a true vision this evening. I don't know if I should say hello or bow to you as you look every bit a Princess" "Well thank you Kind Sir, and where might I ask are we going this evening." "Well my lady would one mind if I just surprise you" She started to giggle at that and smiled and said "of course Sir Your choice will be wonderful I'm sure."

As we pulled into the drive a young man stepped forward to get the doors I glanced over at Ruthie and noticed the look on her face, She was a bit surprised at the restaurant we were going to. I tossed the keys to the young man and offered my arm to Ruthie. When we walked into the lobby the man at the desk smiled and asked my name, "But of course sir we have been waiting for you let me show you to your table."

When we sat down Ruthie could not hold back any longer. She was dead serious and looked me in the eyes and whispered "Do you have any idea how expensive this place is" "Yes I Do But we are celebrating your doing so well on your test I could not take you anywhere else." 

We wound up having a wonderful time and a great dinner, the laughs kept coming from both of us, I think we both felt like we had been together for years. We truly were becoming very comfortable with one another.

As we left the restaurant I was telling her what a great time I had and how much I was enjoying her company and it was a shame it could not last longer. She turned and looked me in the eyes and said "I see no reason for us to stop having fun yet please take me home and I will fix you the best cup of coffee you have ever had." "Now how can I refuse an offer like that, but you realize of course at my age the last thing I need at this time of the night is coffee, I will never sleep"

She through her head back and laughed "well we will just have to find something for you to do if you can't sleep." I saw her flash that devilish grin and I was beginning to think of just how much trouble I might be in here, this Girl was just in her early thirty's and I am fifty seven. The thoughts that were rushing in and out of my mind were not all that gentlemanly.

"Ruthie you are going to make this old man blush if you don't stop, Damn girl I'm old enough to be your father." "Awe Daddy I won't hurt you I promise" I will be a good little girl, and if I get out of line you can give me a spanking and send me to my room." The thought hit me then that she was serious, I have never been with a women that liked to be spanked, I was starting to think that this evening was going to get very interesting.

The ride back to her house was a blur, I could only think about the lovely creature sitting so close to me and I could feel her left breast against my arm. I was trying to keep my mind on the rode and was very happy indeed to finally be pulling up to her house. I practically jumped out of the car and rushed around to her side and opened the door for her. "Thank you Daddy you are such a gentleman." I was starting to enjoy the sound of her calling me Daddy.

When we got into the house I took my suit Jacket off and laid it over the back of a chair and removed my tie and put it in one of the Jacket pockets. Ruthie went straight into the kitchen and started the coffeepot going. When she came back out she excused herself. "Daddy I need to go get out of this dress before I mess it up I hope you don't mind." "Of course I don't' mind, I will just turn on the TV and catch the news." "Daddy would you please help me with this zipper, I always have trouble with it," I walked over and she turned her back to me and I found the zipper and slowly moved it down to the small of her back.

Ruthie leaned back against me and said "Thank You Daddy" I could not help myself I put my arms around her and pulled her back against me. She just sort of melted into me, her hair was still tied up in some sort of bun on her head so I softly kissed the back of her neck, and I moved my hands up from her waist and cupped her breasts. "Oh Daddy you really know what your little girls needs, I love the feel of your big hands" 

She slowly turned around and tilted her head back as I leaned down and kissed her, she slowly parted her lips and my tongue slowly searched for hers. She finally pulled away laughing and said, "I will be right back Daddy."

It was just a few minutes till I heard her voice. "Daddy can you please come her for a minute" I walked down the hall following the sound of her voice. When I walked into the open door I just stood there for a second. The sight in front of me was unreal this beautiful creature was kneeling on the bed facing the door wearing a black teddy with her hair hanging down over her shoulders and breasts, Her hair had to be at least waist long and very thick. "Daddy would you please come over here and join me I get scared here when I'm all-alone" "Baby I will protect you and make sure you are safe. And I promise you I would never do anything to cause you harm." "Oh Daddy you make me feel so loved and safe." 

I was about to remove my shirt when Ruthie jumped out of bed and said, "Daddy please let me do it." "Of course princess I would love it if you would help" She got up and walked over and one by one undid the buttons on my shirt when they were all unbuttoned she pushed the shirt back off my shoulders. She then grabbed the bottom of my T-shirt and pulled it up over my head.

I felt her pulling at the buckle on my belt and soon it came undone then she started pulling down on my zipper, she went down to her knees and As she started unzipping my pants they started to fall down my legs, she helped me to step out of them and she tossed them over to a chair. "Oh Daddy this is what I have been looking for may I let him out please" I felt just the slightest bit weak in the knees as I told her "sure Baby you may do anything you wish" She reached up and hooked my Briefs with her thumbs and started to tug them down past my hips. 

I soon felt her breath as she got closer to my cock, then I felt her softly blowing on it, her left hand came up and cupped my balls and I felt the stirring in my cock as it started to expand. Then she gently took hold of my cock with her right hand and started to lick the underside of it she then went all the way back and licked my balls and then slowly started to moved back to the underside of the very tip. I reached down and grabbed a handful of her hair and just started to feel its softness, I loved the feel of it in my hands, I started to grit my teeth as I felt her lips start to engulf my cock. Her mouth was like a hot fire that was on a mission to drive me wild, my knees were really starting to shake now as she started a sucking motion with her lips, she would move her lips to the base of my cock then pull back slowly to the very tip, all the while moving her tongue back and forth on the underside. "Ruthie baby its been so long I cant take this much longer" "Fuck I'm so close" I knew I was not going to last so I pulled gently on her hair and warned her that I was going to cum, she answered my plea by reaching under my legs and started pushing a finger into my ass. That was it I started shooting my load into her mouth and she swallowed and swallowed never missing a drop. After a few seconds she pulled away and my cock slipped out of her mouth, She looked up and smiled at me then started licking at my cock and using her hand squeezed out the last remaining drops.

I reached down and pulled her to her feet, then began kissing her and I was surprised when she forced some of my cum into my lips, our tongues just entwined and licked at each other. I also was surprised to find that the taste was not that bad. I reached out to her and swept her off her feet I walked over to the bed and set her down at the edge of the bed.

"Now princess it's my turn" I slowly laid her back and I knelt by the edge of the bed between her legs, I pulled her forward towards me as I lifted her legs up over my shoulders. I reached between her legs and undid the snaps on the underside of her teddy. As the last snap came undone the teddy parted and before me lay the most beautiful looking mound I have ever seen, it was slightly swollen and I could see a small amount of moisture seeping out, I pulled her closer to me and licked at the very bottom of her pussy tasting the juices that were starting to flow, Her pussy was pumping out juice as fast as I could lick it up, this was going to be a challenge.

In my hurry to catch all the juices flowing from her I made the mistake of trying to adjust my position I was keeling in and I started to lose my balance. I felt stupid as hell when In trying to catch myself I wound up slapping her right on top of her mound with my right hand, I heard her yelp as I struck her, "Shit I'm so sorry" that was all I could say, then I heard her yell out "please Daddy do it again" I had regained my balance by this time and thought I was not hearing her right. 

But I sure was "Please Daddy I liked it when you spanked me on my pussy, Please Daddy will you do it again Please." All I could think of to say was of course Baby, I lightly slapped her again and she yelled out "Harder Daddy" So I increased how hard I was slapping her and her moans kept getting louder and louder, I bent in again and started to lick at her pussy, I found her clit and started to nibble at it all the time slapping at her mound, In just a few more seconds my tongue could not keep up with the juices that were flowing out of her Pussy, The next thing I heard was "Oh my God I'm fucking going to cum please harder Daddy lick harder," I licked at her clit as fast and as hard as I could curling my tongue up tight and assaulting her swollen Clit.

She then screamed and clamped her legs together around my neck, using her legs to force me in closer. "I'm cuming Oh fuck it feels so good, please don't stop please." I slapped at her mound again over and over and I could taste the cum starting to flow from her pussy.

In just a couple more seconds she pulled her legs up from my shoulders and laid back on the bed, she reached a hand up and pulled me to her, I just went with it and fell to the side of her and I will not lie I was wiped out. I was sucking in air as fast as I could. "Oh Fuck Daddy that was great, you made me feel so fucking hot, I loved it when you spanked me on my pussy, It was awesome. I have never been that hot in my life."

I moved over closer to her and looked at her mound and it was a soft red all over, I just could not believe what had just happened, I leaned over her pussy and gently started to place light kisses all over and I would softly blow on it thinking it would make it feel better. "Thank you Daddy that was sweet of you, But Daddy I do have a question for you." "What's that baby" "Do you think this was better than a cup of coffee" I just broke out laughing at that and just grinned one of those silly grins we get once in awhile and said Honey I forgot all about the coffee the minuet I walked in your bedroom door and saw you on the bed"

"Daddy can I ask you something else" "Well of course you can you can ask me anything you wish." "Do you think less of me for the way I acted here tonight, I know I kind of got carried away and we just met an all but I was just so turned on I couldn't help it." "Princess I loved what we did here tonight, and I am very fond of you, Hell I was worried that you would not see anything in me because Of my age." "But Daddy that's one of the things that I love about you, I like the fact that you're mature and not like some kid just trying to get a Quickie piece of ass."

"Tell you what baby lets go get that cup of coffee and we can talk about a few thing's." "O.K. let me put a robe on and I will be right with you." I slipped into my briefs and slacks and pulled on my t-shirt and walked into the kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee, I knew from dinner that Ruthie did not drink coffee so I just poured her a tall glass of water. In just a couple of seconds she was beside me and wrapped her arms around my neck and got up on her tip-toes and gave me a long kiss.

"Rich I really enjoyed this whole evening I wish it could go on and on. I'm so happy that you are so understanding and are not all judgmental about the things I like to do." "Sweetie the reason for that is I like them myself." We sat at that table and talked about the things we liked and things we wanted in our life's. We discovered that we had a lot in common besides the sex end of it. After talking for about an hour she asked me if I would like to see her toy-chest.

I followed her back into her room and she brought out this box that was under her bed, when she opened it I was surprised to see all kinds of her special toys, she had vibrator's in assorted sizes and all kinds of straps that you could use to tie one down, I looked through and found handcuffs and a small whip and a couple of paddle's. "Ruthie honey I have never used anything like these before but I sure as hell would love to try."


The Toy Box



Preface:



My wife and I were driving south on one of the highways that connect our home with one of our married children when we passed by one of the community funeral homes. Now it's not normally a busy thoroughfare, and it wasn't that day either, but the parking lot at the home was burgeoning with freshly washed cars and that was not normal.

I asked my wife if she knew of anyone who'd passed lately. She replied that she hadn't, but judging by the number of cars we both sort of assumed it was most likely a younger person. Anyway as we drove by 

I think we both recognized a few of the cars.

My wife glanced in my direction and commented, "You know sweetie they should advertise."

I was somewhat surprised by her remark so I asked, "Advertise; whatever do you mean?'

She said, "Oh they could out up a marque something like, 'now showing Ellen Scarborough'."

Ellen was older friend of my wife's very elderly mother, and she'd recently passed. We'd gone to her viewing; not at that particular home though. I said to my sweet wife and mother of my children, "Sugar plum that was a little tacky don't you think?"

Quite seriously she looked over at me and said, "No not at all. Few people get or read the papers these days. I'm sure there are many times a friend or distant relative passes and they're missed by people who'd like to pay their last respects, a sign would be a welcomed and informative piece."

I still thought it odd and replied, "It still sounds a little morbid, maybe a little mercenary too."

My ever-loving life's partner smiled broadly like she'd just made a copyrightable or patentable discovery and replied, "No not at all," then she added, "They could post a sign saying 'now showing...' and beneath they could even have a somewhat smaller neon asserting 'coming soon...'."

I saw we were approaching our 'turn off' and I pointed to somebody's errant goat balanced rather comfortably atop the barbed wire cap of a chain link fence. Neither of us commented as we knew the goat was our youngest daughter's latest 4H project. 



~~v~~



Introduction: 



Now this story is a little different. I have no idea how to describe it except that it does involve infidelity so it is appropriate for the genre. Beyond that there are the customary admonitions; it might seem to run a little wordy at times, and if there are any political or religious references they're strictly for the story and have no real meaning. It is of course intended to be fiction so if the reader recognizes anyone it is pure chance. Also, though it is March there are no zombies, banshees, fairies, 'little people', werewolves, vampires, leprechauns or goblins within.

I hope you enjoy it. 

One more warning; I've been said to be verbose. You don't like wordy stop now.



"The Toy Box"

by 

carvohi.

(This story is told in three parts, but all in one sitting.)



Part One: Glenn's Story



Now I want to start out with a few fundamentals. First, I'm not a prejudiced kind of guy, and the fact that my marriage was ruined by three black men was to me only incidental, but how they might have come to view things is their problem. I mean whether or not what I did about what they did might have affected their jobs, their health, or their sense of well-being, well that only goes. 

That takes me to my second point. I'm someone who has a tendency to take no prisoners; if it happens it happens. This would even be so with something simple or trivial or even with something as deep and emotional as a long term relationship such as my now defunct marriage. I mean I loved my wife, she cheated, I fixed things, and I've moved on. 

Third, when I move on I move; I pick up the pieces and find new things to do. I can't sit around and cry over spilt milk.

Fourth, I'm not a vengeful person, if someone hurts me I've found the best thing to do is scram. As a rule I won't try to get even; especially if I feel the opportunity costs are too great, but I'll weigh those costs very carefully. 

Fifth, I'm a methodical man; I take things as I see them, take them apart, analyze what I see, and make the needed changes. I'll proceed from there.

So let's get to the belly of the beast. I'll take this as chronologically as possible, no gimmicks, no tricks, no sleight of hand. Don't expect any surprise endings. And last, my sex life is my own private affair; so don't expect a lot of that in this sad little tale.

My name is Glenn Koch, and my former wife was named Jeannie Koch. Now that things have gone south I can't imagine she kept her married name. I certainly hope she didn't, but that's her business. 

I've been thinking seriously about remarrying; yes, there's another woman whom I'd like to share my name with. At the moment she seems pretty satisfied about it. I'll tell everyone about her later.



~~v~~



My first wife and I got married in June 1986. It was the perfect traditional Catholic wedding with all the appropriate aspects one would expect. 

I found work right out of high school as a carpenter, and within a short time I was promoted to something akin to a job boss. Get that; I'm a High school boy, no college here so don't expect a lot of fancy talk. 

OK, well we got started. After a few years I went out on my own, and by the time I was thirty I had my own business building houses, and before I knew it I was building small to mid-sized apartment complexes around the county. Face it I've been good at what I do. I've been smart with the money and with who I choose to employ, and I've been lucky.

As I said, we married and pretty soon, just a year later our first baby came along. Her name is Angela, and she's always been the angel in my life. Even now, though I seldom see her anymore, I think about her every day. I suppose losing her affection has been one of the bigger regrets in this whole sick mess. 

Our second child came along two years after that. We named him Travis, and though he's my son and I love him, I never quite made the connection with him I made with my girl. I don't know who to blame for that, but since I've taken the heat for most everything else, I'll assume responsibility for that as well. In all honesty I can take some blame for Travis: I'll try to explain that later too. 

Well from 1986 until things completely fell apart around 2011 I worked my ever loving ass off. For all that time, through thick and thin I was able to keep food on the table, and money in the bank. 

Recessions and depressions came and went; I was still able to keep going. I even made good money during the hard times between 2007 and 2010. I was so successful that my ever loving, now ever cheating, wife was able to stay home and enjoy the good things of life.

Here's where things started to go wrong, and I mean really wrong. Angela graduated from high school and went off to college in 2006, and Travis joined her a year later. Who'd a figured the asshole had picked up enough college credit in high school to skip right to college. Their departure left Jeannie home alone in a big house with basically not a lot to do. That's when she came to me and asked if she could get a job; you know, something to fill in the hours. I, being a good husband, told her to go ahead. Jeannie went out, went to school and got her license to sell real estate. She found a position with a nationally known agency and pretty soon she was on her way.

At first I thought Jeannie was a natural. She was bringing home the money like there was no tomorrow. The agency she had aligned herself with sold across all the counties. There were, I think, eleven active sales persons, three of whom were black men. 

Of course, there were some serious down times caused by the Great Recession, but Jeannie still seemed to be ahead of the curve, or at least I thought she was ahead of the curve because I thought she was selling houses. I found out in the end it wasn't houses she'd put out on the market.

Real estate agents I found out worked odd hours. They worked weekends, evenings, and in all kinds of odd and unusual circumstances. Then with the market plunge those hours tended to go up a little. I didn't pay much attention to any of this because my efforts to keep things moving had caused me to put in more and more time too.

Hindsight they say is an exact science, and with sexual affairs nothing could be closer to the truth. Being the loyal husband I missed all the warning signs; the gradual erosion of our sex life, her loss of interest in our personal affairs, the increase in my wife's tendency to be indifferent regarding her chores around the house, her changes in hair styles, the styles and kinds of clothing she wore, and her overall increased laxity regarding everything we'd built over the years.

It was my fault too. I guess I just didn't pay enough attention to her.

I suppose, looking back, the biggest outright fright I got came at one of her fall offices parties. Their supervisor had rented a room at the restaurant in one of the downtown Holiday Inns. 

This was supposed to be some sort of motivational thing; spouses had been invited. At first she encouraged me to go, but then she changed her mind asserting it would be a waste of time for me. 

Now what with some of the other things that had been going on that comment was, I imagine, my first real red flag. I told her I intended to go. After first trying to dissuade me, she turned around and said it would be fun to have me there.

That party was an eye opener. Most of the agents and all the ancillary staff were good people; all quiet and friendly and such. But there were these three black agents who sort of hung together; something of a clique you might say. They were all three big stocky men, if they worked for me they'd have been doing heavy duty bulk work, hauling and carrying and what. They were, by far, the best dressed in the group, and they sat apart pretty much the whole evening with their wives at their own table.

They were generally cordial with everyone, but they seemed especially familiar with my wife. There was nothing particularly bad about their behavior, but they raised my hackles a few times. All three of them made a point of dancing with my wife three or four times, and when I accidentally ended up with their group, along with my wife, I found out they'd given Jeannie a special 'pet' name. They called her 'Miss Fancy'. They said the name came from the fancy little dresses and slack outfits she wore to work. 

I didn't like the name they'd tagged her with, and honestly, every time they referred to her as 'Miss Fancy' she sort of laughed in a silly kind of way. I didn't like it, and instinctively knew I'd found the source of my emerging unease. 

Later the next day I brought it up with her, but she reacted most rudely saying I was out of line, it was just a fun name, and that I knew nothing about the real estate business. At first I thought it was odd she would talk back to me that way, but I put that aside. I could correct her later. What really got me was how she could be so wrong. I worked in construction. I worked with lawyers who managed settlements for me. I worked around a few real estate agents, and I knew 'real' real estate agents didn't go around handing out pet names to colleagues unless something else was going on. She knew all this.

From then on I decided to keep a closer check on my 'Miss Fancy'. I started keeping up with her e-mail messages, her telephone contacts, her travel times, and the places she said she'd be. I periodically checked the mileage on her car and compared it to the places she said she'd be. It wasn't too hard to do any of this, but it didn't reveal much. I suppose I could have gone the electronic surveillance route and bought the little listening devices, the homing tools for her car, and all that crap, but I wasn't that kind of person. If she was going to do something, she'd do it, and I wouldn't really be able to stop her. Still, 'Miss Fancy'?

In the end, it happened just the way it seems to happen in all these sordid little stories, quite by accident. It was a Sunday. We'd gone; or rather I'd gone to mass the night before. Jeannie got up and said she had a couple open houses she had to attend to and that she wouldn't be home until much later that night. She said not to wait dinner, but go ahead and take care of food after whatever fashion I chose. She said she'd get something out at one of the diners. I told her not to buy a lot of junk and to stay away from too much caffeine. We kissed and she left.

That gave me the whole day to do pretty much what I wanted. As it was, two of our bedrooms had some pretty nice furniture we'd bought a few years earlier, but one of my elderly great aunts had 'passed' and she'd left us some pretty wonderful old things, antiques and such. I knew Jeanie loved some of the stuff and had been after me to get it out. Well obviously it had been put away someplace, and to be able to keep all this added crap we'd rented a unit at the nearby 'Annie's Lockers'. It was in our storage unit where we'd stored the stuff.

Maybe an hour after Jeannie left for her open houses I pulled out to go to the storage unit to get a look at what we had. I got there, found our unit, unlocked it, and went about uncovering some pretty nice old tables, love seats, and a couple old spinning wheels. There were several boxes filled with old doilies, table cloths, and coverlets of all types. I know it sounds stupid, but I'm pretty anal about old things like that. 

When I opened the unit I saw Jeannie must have been in and out of several times since my last visit. Things were piled all over the place. That pissed me off a little; I figured I'd have to say something later that night. She knows I like tidy and orderly. I went about restoring things.

This was a large unit, and as I started tidying I noticed some oddities way back in the back. There was a curtain or something back behind a tall stack of cardboard boxes. I walked back and checked and guess what I found. I found hanging just neatly as one could please the dress that Jeannie had on when she left earlier that day. Beneath the dress hanging so neatly I found a plastic storage box. I was unfamiliar with it. I opened it. As soon as I opened it I knew my marriage was over.



~~v~~



There in that plastic container was my wife's secret treasure trove. I searched through it. I found a couple slinky little teddies, a grotesquely cheap little French maid's outfit, a harem girl costume, what looked like a slave girl outfit replete with plastic manacles, and an assortment of bras, panties, bustiers, and other odd shit. One of the pairs of panties, an especially frilly little piece had the word 'Fancy' written right where it would have covered her ass. 

Two things immediately jumped out at me. Once, a few weeks earlier Jeannie had come home with what looked like rope marks around her wrists. She offered some sort of stupid explanation about having been caught between a washing machine and clothes drier and one of her clients had pulled her out and in the pulling had twisted her wrists thus causing the abrasions. Well one look at the slave girl outfit and the cheap phony chains proved the lie to that. Her black boyfriends must have chained her up during one of their play times. Of course the panties with the name Fancy gave it all away. She was 'Miss Fancy' all right. 

My wife had been playing the whore, the sex toy with her three black colleagues. Now what was I going to do about it?

We'd been married over twenty years, and during those years I'd had several opportunities to see how grown men behaved when they found out their loving wives had cheated on them. I'd heard all the sad stories, I'd listened to all the tears and anger I could stomach. I'd dealt with the self-pity, the drunkenness, and the absenteeism, and I'd never had any sympathy for them. Wow! What a difference a trip to the storage unit could make. 

Of course, I sat there a few minutes and gave in to the brutal tragedy that was in front of me, but I made up my mind I wasn't going to be one those whiney whimpering limp dicked losers. I'd already lost; there wasn't much sense in denying it. My marriage and my life as I knew it was over. It sucked, but there wasn't a God damned thing I could do to fix it. I knew who I was. I didn't know what she'd done; it didn't matter. I could never forget this. I could never forgive her. I certainly could never stay married to her. Whatever my wife wanted it certainly wasn't me and it absolutely wasn't our marriage.

I took the pretty dress she'd left the house in, and all her toys and loaded them in the back of my truck. I drove home, carried all her goodies in the house and took them in the living room and sat them on the coffee table. I'd come back to fix these things right a little later. 

I went up in the attic, got my suitcases, that was my two suitor, my overnight bag, my cosmetic bag, and my other light bags and packed everything in them I'd need for the next few days. The rest I carried out to the truck for storage down at one of the trailers I had for the work sites.

Once I had everything I needed I pulled out all our financial records. Since this was Sunday I knew I'd be busy Monday clearing all this up for the imminent divorce. 

Then I went downstairs and back to the living room. I took the nice dress she'd worn and laid it on the sofa. The rest I folded neatly on the coffee table. I'm sure most men would have waited around for the usual confrontation; you know the customary, 'why'd you do it', 'aren't you sorry', 'were they better', 'what did I do wrong', and on and on and on. Like I said I'd heard all this shit from three or four guys who'd gone through it. One thing I wasn't was a masochist. I was already torn up. My life was already in ruins. I knew could never get past this. Why bother make a bad situation worse?

I did write her a short note. I figured twenty-two years deserved maybe twenty words or so. Here's what I left her in the note.

Jeannie:

"I found your toys; they're pretty self-explanatory. You'll need a lawyer. Mine will be in touch. You can explain things to the kids. Our marriage? Honestly, it was a good ride. Now it's over. 

Good bye,

Glenn

Ok, it was more than twenty words, but I think it got the message across. I wanted it to be as clinical as possible, completely free of any anger or sadness. I just didn't want her to know how badly I really felt. I remembered the old TV comment, 'Never let them see you sweat.' My guess was she would've probably been divorcing me pretty soon anyway. It was best to get it over with and move on.

I carried my suitcases out to my truck, loaded everything up, and drove off into the sunset. Well not exactly the sunset; I drove to the nearest Marriott and got a room. 

That's what I did. What I wanted to do was go back to the house. Get out a sledge hammer and smash up everything we owned, no everything she owned. I'd been pretty good to her over the years. I'd bought her a lot of expensive shit. She was the proud owner of some awfully beautiful Baccarat, Nambe, and Waterford crystal. She had no idea how much some of the things cost. Most of it was stuffed in this massive Mahogany Curio Cabinet I'd bought her for one of our anniversaries. Some of the stuff was so expensive I'd been downright embarrassed buying it. I remember I bought her a $1,900.00 Waterford fruit bowl for our twentieth anniversary. I'd checked it and ordered it off the Internet. They'd delivered it to a jeweler's in our town. I'd stopped off from work in my overalls to get it. The salespeople looked at me like I was Jedd Clampett. I know they checked with the bank when I flipped out my credit card. What I'd give to go back home now, take a hammer, and smash the damn thing to pieces. 'Miss Fancy' my ass.




The Toy Box



I kept my cell phone on just to see if she would call. I sort of doubted if she would, and even if she did I had no intention of answering. I kind of wished I could have been hiding somewhere in the house when she got home just to see her reaction. Of course, by the time she got home she'd have already been to the storage unit and that would have given everything away. 

I thought about my interest in observing her reaction and thought about something that had happened to me back when I was a kid at the beach. I'd been walking along one of the sandy side roads between the cottages and I came upon this conch. I picked it up and found the animal inside it had died, and the thing was crawling with maggots. It was one god awful sight and I immediately dropped the thing, but then I picked it up again and looked at it some more. It was so hideously ugly that I'd been drawn to look at it again. 

I thought about that maggoty conch; that was what had become of my marriage, and for me to want to be in the room watching Jeannie when she saw her stuff and read my note would have been like looking at that shell all over again. That was something I just didn't need to do.

I went down to the Marriot restaurant, ordered a nice meal, ate it, and went back upstairs. Sure enough around eight that evening my cell phone started singing. It sang and sang for most of the night. I suppose she called me thirty times. I didn't answer a single one, but once she'd stopped around four that Monday morning I did open it up and I listened to some of the messages. It was kind of hard to understand her since she was crying so much. I did get the parts where she said she was sorry, she wanted to see me to explain, how she promised she'd stop, how she'd quit her job, we could start over, how she'd make everything up to me, how she promised never to do anything so stupid like this again, and how she just couldn't explain why she did it in first place. 

I heard all I could and erased everything. I've got to say it was hard listening to the woman I'd loved so unquestioningly for more than twenty years trying to explain how she could fix something that was so irretrievably broken. I'll say there's nothing more broken than a broken marriage, and nothing breaks a marriage more thoroughly than infidelity. It's like an egg; once it's dropped it's just a broken mess. I thought of that old rhyme; 'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall...' I was stupid. I went to the lobby Internet and looked up 'Humpty Dumpty'. There must have been a hundred different interpretations of the meaning of that dumb verse. 

Honestly, even that very next Monday morning if she'd called and said she needed a kidney, or some bone marrow, or a lung, or even both lungs, or someone was trying to kill her and she needed me to get home and take the bullet I'd have gone home and laid down my life for her. I loved her that much. But to try to go home and live with the shame and the knowledge she'd betrayed everything that mattered to me was more than I could ever do. I'd die for her in a minute. Sure, but my death would have ended it. I'd have done the right thing, the loving thing and been proud to do it, but to go back and live another twenty years with the woman who'd betrayed me in the worst imaginable way, I could never do that.

Now let's look at the racist thing I mentioned. I said I wasn't a racist, and I'm not, not exactly, but the fact that her sex partners were black mattered. I know black men can be pretty racist, and for more than a few of them getting into a white woman's pants is like some kind of perverse racist 'high'. For those three men to be calling my wife 'Miss Fancy' in front of me at that party was the ultimate put down. 

I saw the looks on their faces; their smug self-congratulatory smirks. They knew what they were doing, and they knew they were doing it to her and to me. I suppose, forget that, no suppose about it; she was the 'arch-bitch' because she let them have the one thing that she had that was supposed to mine and mine alone for all our lives. 

Jeannie had been a virgin when we got married. She gave away my, and I thought her, most treasured possession to three men who looked upon it as some kind of great racial conquest. I know now I'd seen it in their eyes. Spike Lee mentioned it in one of his movies; she'd given away the 'white man's pride'. Well she did it, she did it to me, and that was a thing I could never forgive.

I'm not a racist, but I am a southerner. Look at it this way. I'd never tell anybody who I voted for, but John McCain, sure, prisoner of war and all - come on, but I sure wouldn't vote for a guy who wouldn't tell me what he'd paid in income taxes. So maybe I did or maybe I didn't vote for the Kenyan the second time. That's my business. 

Sure some pretty little bleach blond cheerleader gets all starry eyed when she meets the black college quarterback, she spreads her legs and he's dumb enough to marry her, that's OK. Black women have been cashing the same checks a lot longer. But this wasn't some ditz with pom-poms. This was my wife! Oh yeah she would pay, but I knew three guys who might need a visit someday. Yeah I'd be their gallimaufry. 



~~v~~



That Monday morning I checked in at our biggest work site, and then went off to find as good lawyer. I found one and explained to her what I wanted. What I wanted was out of the marriage. I said I'd agree to any terms, and any economic pay out to get away. She tried to explain that in our state my wife could really rake me over the coals. I told my lawyer she'd already done that. What she couldn't do was take away my ability to make money. If she got everything I could simply find another place and start over. 

My lawyer wasn't optimistic, and she was right. Jeannie did get a lawyer, and she did take me to the cleaners. She got the house, alimony, half of all our material possessions, and since she hadn't worked most of her life she got a hefty portion of whatever money I made through my company from then on. Luckily the kids were both over eighteen so she couldn't get child support. Regrettably, though the company was in my name, the judge said she'd contributed by being a productive homemaker. I had to buy out her share of my company. By the time they'd finished with me I was pretty much penniless. I still had the business though.

We went our separate ways. She did quit her job, and from what the kids said she pretty much just stayed home. She called the kids and made up some cock and bull story. I loved my kids and I still loved their mother so I decided it wouldn't do anybody any good to try and get at the truth with Angela and Travis. They would believe what they wanted to believe. They knew me, and they knew their mother. My guess was that if they heard the truth it would have sounded so crazy they wouldn't have believed it. All her life Jeannie had been a good girl, a good Catholic, a loyal wife, and a devoted mother, the whole thing with her sex games was just so far-fetched even I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't found the physical proof. I did find out though.

Finally five months after that fateful Sunday we had our denouement. I had agreed to one face to face. There weren't going to be any counseling sessions. I won on that one. By the time of our meeting I had started dating another woman, a pretty Polish girl and a Catholic. She was thirty-seven to my forty-one. She was divorced from a man who'd had an affair, and she had two daughters, one thirteen, and the other eleven. 

OK, I missed Jeannie terribly, but Vonja showed up at just the right time. She needed a man she could trust, and God knew I needed a trustworthy woman. Vonja had these two girls, and they reminded me of Angela in a lot of ways. 

I knew I could be a good help mate for Vonja in raising her two little blonds. I wasn't going to try to replace their father, but I thought I could be there if they needed someone. Both girls were into dance, and they needed things like costumes, dance shoes, and most of all transportation. My Angela had never gotten into anything like that; brother I found out a lot. They have dance contests all over the country. Vonja and her girls were traveling all over the place, and her girls were so ebullient it was like every day was a party. It never fixed the scars from Jeannie, but it sure made a terrific band aid. 

In fact Vonja and her girls, Ruta and Ursula were so physically and emotionally different from my Jeannie, Angela, and Travis, it was like starting all over again. 

Vonja really needed someone, and I needed to have someone who would need me. I was there for her. Honestly, I'd never neglected Jeannie; I'd always been there for her too. I guess she just got bored. But with Vonja and her girls I'd found a new life. I was still hurt, but I knew I could go on. I was still young. I could still perform in the sack, and Vonja was really great in that way.

The final showdown came with the face to face that was to officially end my marriage to Jeannie. We did it up in one of those tall buildings downtown. While I was upstairs Vonja and my new girls were downstairs in a coffee shop waiting for me. There was a reason they were there. It was selfish I know, and Vonja knew why too, but she said she was glad to do it. She said she'd only wished she'd had someone like me on hand when she and her first husband had their final face off. I'll get to all that at the very end.

Well I walked in and sat down with my lawyer. Jeannie waited till I was already there. Wouldn't you know it; she brought the kids too. I didn't know they were coming, but since I'd hardly spoken to them anyway I thought we could get it all out of the way once and for all. It seems Jeannie had never told them the real reason for our split, and like I said earlier, I saw no purpose to it either. Both my kids blamed me for everything.

Jeannie, Angela, Travis, and her lawyer all came in. I thought Angela looked beautiful. I thought Travis looked his typical insolent self. Poor Jeannie looked bad, but then maybe I wanted her to look that way. She looked old and tired. Her face had this pallid appearance, and I bet she'd lost twenty pounds. If I hadn't known the reason I'd would have been all over her trying to make her feel better. 

Now I understand when people read these stories the husband always wants to paint it like the wayward wife was really in a bad way after the awful thing she'd done. I'm trying to be objective here. I think Jeannie really did look like shit; nothing like the light and airy woman I had been loving and living with just a few months before, and absolutely nothing like the three bouncy little blue eyed blonds waiting for me downstairs.

We all sat around this table; me and my lawyer on one side, Jeannie, the kids, and her lawyer on the other. Jeannie still wasn't ready to accept what she'd done and the inevitability of it. She wanted to talk. When she asked me if there was any way, even now, if we could get things back; I asked her if she was satisfied with the financial settlement. When she tried to explain how she was sorry for the way things worked out, I asked her if she was OK with keeping the house. In short every time she tried to get personal I clicked back to the mechanical aspects of the settlement. I was just too emotionally spent. I didn't want her to know how badly she hurt me. I knew it was cruel me hiding my true feelings, but I hoped by doing that I might have hurt her a little more. I felt like a zombie, but I think it worked. 

The whole time Travis just sat there with this smug self-righteous look, but Angela really went off. I was proud of her too.

Angela started yelling at me. She started telling me what a prick I was, and how much I'd hurt her mom, and how I didn't know how bad she felt, and how all she did was cry all the time. Angela said she'd never seen her mother cry so much. 

Angela got to me. I broke down. I started to mist up a bit. It was the first time I'd cried, OK I did cry over this before but not in front of anybody. I really felt like a fool. Oh I'd cried a lot. I'd cried buckets of tears, but I'd kept everything to myself. I only shared it with Vonja who was always there to support me. 

So I just lied a little bit; Vonja had seen me cry. Vonja had been my strong rock in many ways, and I was glad I could be there for her.

Tears hadn't been my only problem either. Up until the separation and divorce I'd been able to eat almost anything. Ever since I'd been on a variety of anti-acids. I just couldn't keep anything down. Yeah, I'd lost a little weight too, like almost thirty pounds.

Anyway Angela broke me. I had to say something. I looked at Jeannie and asked her if she'd ever told them the real reason why we were divorced. She didn't say anything. 

I'm sorry I couldn't keep it in any longer I looked at Angela and told her there was only one thing her mother could have done to end this marriage and that was to be unfaithful. I told Angela to ask her mother about the three black men she worked with. I told Angela to ask her mother why they called her mother 'Miss Fancy'. I told Angela to ask her mother if she ever saw her special toy chest with all the little costumes she'd worn for her black boyfriends. By then I had to stop; Jeannie was just crying too much.

At last I told Angela that I loved her, that I would always love her. I told her I would always love her mother, but her mother had thrown away our marriage, she'd given it away, and there was nothing she or anyone could do to get it back. I told her it was gone, dead, over. 

I finally got up and started to leave. That was when Angela really killed me. She got out of her chair, ran over and grabbed me. She hugged me like there was no tomorrow. She was crying her eyes out. She told me she loved me, and that she would always love me, and that no matter what I was her dad, and that someday she hoped she'd marry a man just like me, and that when that day came she wanted me to be there to give her away. All right that broke me down; I cried.

I looked over and saw Travis; the son-of-a-bitch had a smirk on his face. Honestly I could never figure the little shit out. Crap I did everything for that little prick, Karate lessons, little league baseball, lacrosse. I even helped the little turd with his homework. I don't think I missed a single lacrosse game. I hated fucking lacrosse. I guess I just tried too much. 

Poor Jeannie, the bitch, she just sat there and cried. Her makeup was a mess. I really wanted to go over and console her. It was like I wanted to die for her; I just couldn't live with her, she'd broken my heart in the worst possible way.

We finally finished up and we all went downstairs on the same elevator. When we got to the lobby Vonja, Ruta, and Ursula were there waiting for me. They all rushed over and hugged me. Jeannie saw it. I walked my new girls over and introduced them to my old family. I told Jeannie Vonja and I would be getting married soon. I wished Jeannie the best, and then we left. 



Denouement for part one.



I thought that would be last time I would ever see my first wife. Angela used to call me and tell me how Jeannie just stayed home and moped around. She said she wasn't eating, hardly slept, and just wouldn't take care of herself. It made me sad, but only a little bit. It had been her fault. I hadn't run off with some woman. For more than twenty years I'd been loyal faithful and true. 

As for Jeannie's black boyfriends; I was sure they find somebody else to screw over. Too bad, by getting Jeannie they got me too. But I figured I was about to start my second go, and I fully intended to make my new family as happy as possible. I guess I was wrong. What's the old saying; 'we make plans and God laughs'. I was making plans, and God was making his.

I'm sure this has been boring as hell, but it still hurts too much to try to jazz it up with a lot of senseless dialogue. Just another unhappy story. Oh well, as they say; life, it does go on. Shit, it's a damn shame, it gets worse.



Part Two: Jeannie's Story as told by Travis.



Well I guess by now everyone's read what my father said, and I can say it's all pretty true. Oh, I bet everyone thought they were going to hear my mom. She's not up to it. The whole thing's just completely torn her apart so if anyone's going to hear it they'll have to get it from me. 

Yeah I'm the asshole; that's what my father usually called me. I'm his son Travis. Some people think they're so damn smart, they have all answers, and they know everything. That's been my dad ever since I can remember. 

Well I'm old enough; I'm of age, I can tell this.

Our dad, my mom's husband Glenn Koch has been a pretty much a self-righteous 'know it all' all my life. Don't get me wrong; he's smart, he's loved me and my sister Angela without reservation. He's been good to our mom as far as it goes, but he's got some faults. Let me get some things straight first.

Dad's a big man; he's six foot four and easily weighs two hundred thirty maybe forty pounds. He's tall, blond and he's got blue eyes. He says he's not a bigot. He's not he really isn't, but I am. Well I wasn't, but I got that way. That matters later.

Mom, well she's tiny, five foot two, just a little over a hundred pounds. She's a blond too, but with green eyes. Angela takes after mom. I take after dad.

If anybody read the beginning of dad's story they should've been pretty much able to put the pieces together; first nobody messed with dad, and mom being the little Catholic girl, raised in parochial school in her navy blue jumpers and white peter-pan blouses was certainly the last to do that.

Mom's pretty, but she's no door prize; door mat has been more like it. I can't remember dad not ever giving her what she wanted, but I can't remember her ever defying him either. We'd go out when I was a kid and dad had a way; I wouldn't call it abuse exactly, but he had a way of intimidating mom without saying anything. Don't be misled. He never hit her or anything like that, but he absolutely controlled everything she did, right down to the shade of lipstick she wore and choice of her perfumes.

He didn't say anything about the sex. I figured out why too. I figured that out by the time I was out of middle school. I sneakily watched. They never knew it, but I did. He made her perform like she was some little monkey. I can still hear him and see her, 'Now lie this way, stand here, lean over this, come here and do this.' Yeah he ordered her all around. I think she liked it though. I know she laughed a lot, and it wasn't a nervous laugh, it was a real laugh.

In fact that was the way it was around the house all the time. She did the groceries and cooked the meals, but he made the lists and the menus. When I was in middle school I had to go help her. Dad had the shopping list plotted out by the aisles in the supermarket, and she was expected to follow the list.

Oh I don't mean she was some kind of slave, but I guess in a way she was. I can't remember her ever making a decision on her own. Dad decided everything. If there was a problem mom would always say something like, "Oh, I can't decide. Let's wait for your father," or, "we better get your dad's approval for this."

It was the way she was raised. Mom's maiden name was Herrmann. Herman, like in Hermandurii! They were an ancient German tribe whose name literally became synonymous with 'army'. I remember eating at her parent's house; man everybody sat down, granddad said grace, granddad sliced the meat, granddad served up each portion, and no one was allowed to talk until dessert. Granddad was 'der Fuhrer'!

My dad I think was raised the same way. I don't know because his parents were both dead before I was old enough to remember. His mom died of leukemia and his dad died of pulmonary fibrosis from where he worked. Mom said they were the only two times she ever saw my dad cry. 




The Toy Box



Our dad, Angela's and mine, tried to emulate the way granddad Herrmann did things. He came pretty close too. Poor mom; she was like a hummingbird flitting all around trying to please everybody. 

I want to say this again; dad wasn't mean or abusive. He gave mom anything she wanted and everything she ever asked for. I never saw him lay a hand on her except to hug and kiss her, and he was affectionate most of the time. She just never got a chance to think for herself.

Now I'm not complaining. I saw how the other half lived. What's the old joke; "How can you tell the bride and an Irish wedding? She has two black eyes." Being Catholic there were quite a few Irish parishioners, and most of my friends were either south German, Irish Catholic, or Polish. 

If anyone ever wanted to see a family quarrel; they should've visited my friends the O'Hara's or the Flaherty's. I'll say, Irish moms know how to stir the kettle, and I'll add it was like the smaller the mom the bigger the mouth and the more raucous the brawl. I watched Patrick Flaherty's five foot mom once back her six foot husband into a corner of their living room, and she did it just using her big mouth. 

I might add I'd seen her hit him once or twice. She'd belt him right in the face. I mean really clobber him! With her fist! It couldn't have hurt too much though; he always laughed. There was a time though she hauled back and gave him one hell of a roundhouse. Man he grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder, and hauled her upstairs. We all just sat real quiet and still in their living room and listened. I never heard so much thrashing and hollering and rustling about. They came down about an hour later all giggles and hugs. I suppose they'd worked out their differences. 

What I'm driving at is we're all who we're raised to be. My mom was raised to be a good, obedient, subservient, Catholic girl, and that kind of translated into everything she did.

Let's go on. Dad's business was growing. He was expanding and making more and more money, but all that took time, and that meant time away from home. Mom wanted and needed attention and dad was just too busy so when mom asked him if she could get a job I guess he just figured it was a way to get her out of his hair.

Don't go ape shit on this, but mom only got her driver's license when I started school. Dad had figured she didn't need one, but when he was always away at work and he figured there might be an emergency. She really was a little mouse. Forget Angela and the car thing. I went to public school. Angela went to a private all girls' Catholic school. Dad dropped her off each morning. 

Life went on. Angela and I finished school. Mom got permission to get a job, she took some classes, passed the test, became an agent, and found a job working for a subsidiary of a national operation. The subsidiary was owned and operated by an old black man named Jonathon Freeman. Mr. Freeman had three sons.

Old Mr. Freeman hired my mom, but I was told he'd mostly retired, and left the operations to his sons who by then weren't young themselves. My mom told me all this.

These three brothers kind of took my mom under their wing. They helped her get started. They showed her 'the ropes'. They taught her the verbal tricks and the geographic gimmicks some realtors used to sell the houses they had to offer. My mom ate it up. 

For quite a while mom did pretty well. The housing market was good. Financing was easy, and builders couldn't keep up with demand, and then the bottom fell out. The agency had to cut back. They laid people off. They had to cut corners. But mom was pretty, she was happy, easy to please, she was funny, and she was white in a market where latent prejudice sometimes showed up. The brothers kept her on even though there were other people with better reputations and better sales records. However, somewhere along the way the paradigm shifted.

My mom said it started innocently enough. Once they were at an open house and there weren't enough chairs. She ended up on one of the brothers' laps. The brothers always smuggled in a few miniatures when they were out, and a snippet of vodka mixed in with a glass of orange juice always made the day go a little faster. 

Being small like she was mom was never much of a drinker. Pretty soon the brothers found it was easy to get my mom just a little tipsy. Mom said the oldest brother, Hiram, was the nicest. He was the most forward too. 

She said she remembered the first time she went too far was when Hiram had her on his lap and he started to tickle her. She remembered laughing and giggling and him unbuttoning her blouse and fondling her boobies. 

It wasn't long she said before there was always a couch conveniently located at whatever house they were showing. Hiram would get her to lie down so he could give her a massage. He'd massage her back and rub up and down her legs. He'd get her shoes and nylons off and rub her legs all the way up her thighs. He'd get her blouse open and her bra unloosened so he could massage her shoulders or she'd roll over on her back and he'd feel all over her boobs while she dozed off. If they saw someone coming to see the house she'd just go to the bathroom and get fixed.

Then one time; she remembered the house they were showing was in a black neighborhood, one of the other brothers got the idea they'd have some horderves. He said she could dress up like a waitress and hand them out to visitors. That was when one of them bought her a maid's outfit. 

Mom said it was a simple black outfit with white cuffs, a white peter-pan collar, and a simple white apron. It wasn't too short or sexy; just a pretty costume, and she said she felt a little silly but a little excited wearing it. She said they praised her to high heaven, she sat on all their laps, and all of them got to touch her boobies and smooth their hands over her thighs. She told me it was kind of fun watching their dark brown hands rub over her white thighs. She also said that was the first time they hadn't had anything to drink. Sometimes she'd kiss them.

My mom told me later they had to have started giving her something; she just didn't know what it was. She said she thought this because she always felt light headed and silly. Plus she said she always felt so emotionally strung out, so 'connected' to the brothers.

After that first time whenever they were showing a house in a black community she wore the maid costume. She said she thought it was a turn on for the brothers and for some of the 'black buyers' to have a white woman wait on them. She said she didn't like that very much; it made her feel self-conscious. She said she still did it anyway; it wasn't fun, but it was strangely erotic.

Then after a while she thought when they were showing they started taking down the 'open house' signs. They were just going to nice houses, often houses that were fully furnished, and they'd just play games. Someone would bring a costume, another would bring something to eat, and a third would bring a couple containers of some kind of juice. 

She'd dress up, and prance around while they would clap their hands and encourage her. The youngest brother took videos. He said he took the videos so he could watch her later when he was alone. He was the only brother not married. 

My mom explained she didn't know how it happened, it didn't happen real fast, and whether they made a sale or not she always got some kind of residual. 

She said it was neat; she got paid whether they sold anything or not. Sure she figured it was a little bit naughty, they touched her boobs and her legs, but nothing really serious ever happened, at least not right away. Then she said one day something did.

There was one time when the oldest brother couldn't be with them. It was a nice house in a newer community, but it was a rainy day. The younger brothers came with an outfit for her and something to drink. She got dressed up and drank some of the punch. After about a half an hour the youngest brother wanted to show a video. Mom said she was embarrassed because it was one of the things he'd taped. He showed some of it, and while he showed it he got her to sit on her rear-end between his legs. 

This was something she'd never done before. In no time he had her blouse down off her shoulders and was squeezing her boobs. I remember her telling me she'd been felt up before but the oldest brother had always been there, and she'd always felt safe around him. The two younger brothers were different. 

Well the younger brother she said lifted her up on his lap and started to reach under this mini-skirt they'd gotten her. He started to massage over her vagina. She asked him to stop, but he wouldn't. Then she tried to get off his lap, but he told her she had to let him or he'd send the video to her husband. 

My mom said she panicked. She squirmed and managed to get off his lap. She said she was really scared. That was when the front door opened and Hiram, the oldest brother was there. She said he saw what was happening and got really angry. She said he was really affronted by what his brothers were doing with her. In fact he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, and started consoling her, telling her how wonderful she was, and how fond of her he was. He said she was nervous and needed a massage. She remembered she felt so lethargic, so relaxed. Before she realized what was happening he had all her clothes off and he was rubbing his penis up against her vagina. 

She remembered being kind of scared, but at the same time a little relieved. It was Hiram, and she trusted him. Plus she'd heard where black men had really big penises, and his wasn't big at all. In fact she said it was barely hard. She thinks he tried to get inside her, but it wouldn't get hard enough. He took her hand and asked her to rub him. She did, and after just a few rubs he ejaculated. Then he quickly got up, he apologized, went into the bathroom, cleaned up, helped her get dressed, and walked her out to her car. Before she left he gave her a fat envelope full of money. 

She said she didn't realize it then, but that was the beginning of another completely different kind of relationship. The youngest brother stayed away from the office the whole week. Hiram and the middle brother were extra nice to her. Then on the next Sunday Hiram, the middle brother and her showed a house. The youngest brother stayed away. While they were there Hiram explained how sorry they were, but he especially loved the way she made him feel. He asked her if she would do it again. My mom later was sure she was on something because all she could think was how she wanted to make Hiram happy. She even used her hand to get him off that time, he was still kind of limp, and then she agreed to do the middle brother. Afterward they were both so grateful she felt like she'd done something wonderful. They gave her a lot of money that day; they both gave her an envelope.

The next week the youngest brother was back in the office. He secretly gave her three tapes. He said they were all he had, and that he was sorry he said what he did. He said his brothers were terribly angry with him. That Sunday it was just her and the youngest brother. He was so wonderful that she agreed to get in the bed with him. She thought she must have passed out or something because she remembered him sticking his penis in her. Anyway my mom said after that Sunday it was four of them all together almost every week.

They did lots of unusual things on the Sundays that followed. It wasn't always sex. Oh it was but it was quite often odd and unusual. One time the middle brother bought her a harem outfit. They all got to watch her pretend to dance. The he went in the bathroom and came out with nothing on except some white powder in his penis. She said it looked funny; a dark brown man with a snow white penis. She was supposed to crawl over and get on her knees and lick all the powdered sugar off. There were bells on the costume, and she remember how they jingled when she crawled across the carpet. She said she did lick it off; it was powdered sugar. 

Most of the time though she said they just liked to rub over her skin with their hands. They kept praising her and telling her how soft and smooth she was. A lot of times Hiram and the middle brother just watched their younger brother wipe and smooth over her flesh. He had large warm hands and it was like being massaged all over. Then the older brothers would go into empty rooms where she thought they masturbated. While they masturbated she would suck off the youngest or let him slide his penis in her. She said he never ejaculated I her; but instead he'd get up, go in another room, and masturbate. 

One time the youngest brother brought in some little metal objects. They looked like eggs but weren't. He wanted to put them in her behind, but she'd never done anything there and after a couple of tries they gave up. They still fiddled with her behind with their fingers though. Mom said it was about that time that dad found her stash of costumes. After that her whole life fell apart. She quit her job, and tried to talk to dad but he just wouldn't listen. She told me she understood. She gave up and decided to just try and die. 

I guess that's about where we are. Mom's trying to die. Dad's trying to get remarried, and me and Angela are trying to figure a way to get dad to actually listen to someone. I knew there was no way I could give dad any details about what mom did; that would be way too much, and mom won't tell him, she's afraid.



Part Three: Warren again



Two things had been driving me crazy, and neither was resolved until my asshole son came to see me. I learned a lot that day. I learned a lot about myself and my son too. I was closing up one of my portables when my son wrapped on the door window. I let him in. 

First I was living in two places, paying for a third, and had a home nowhere. My ex-wife Jeannie was at my original home, and according to my kids she was conscientiously trying to starve herself to death. Meanwhile I lived in a small apartment; I wouldn't call it home, but it was where I kept my computers, my business records, and a few changes of clothes. Then last I was sleeping off and on at Vonja's, but Vonja, though she said she had very strong feelings for me and knew her girls felt the same way absolutely refused to marry me. 

I knew none of the things I really valued were within my grasp. Oh I had a good business and was making money, but what did it matter? 

That's when, like I said, my asshole son showed up at the door with a bottle of Jim Beam and two glasses. He knocked on my portable door, I opened it, and he insisted on coming in. The first thing he did was tell me what his mother had told him about her three boyfriends and how they'd maneuvered her into being the worthless trash she'd become. I listened to him tell her version of the stupid tale, and I was ready to throw the dumb little son-of-a-bitch out unless he agreed to flesh out what he'd uncovered. To my bitter disappointment that's what he did. I agonized over every word. When he finished her account he gave me his. 

"Dad," he said, "Now that I've told you what mom told me. Let me tell you what really happened."

I smirked, "Like you know something." Then he told me, and here's what he said.

He explained, "Dad mom's become like a flightless little bird. She was raised to be an obedient little girl. Her dad, and then you made her that way. 

I listened and tried to interrupt but he wouldn't let me.

He went on, "Mom married you and she did all the right things. She fixed your food, cleaned your house, made you two kids, wiped your ass, and cleaned your fucking shit stained toilets for over twenty years and she never once complained. And what did you do? All you did was provide a little money and rationed out maybe a little affection when you thought she might have earned some. And I repeat in all those years she never complained. 

I was stunned! This asshole was my son. He was fucking standing up to me! It was aggravating! I should have swatted his ass with my hand when he was younger.

He continued, "Then she got a job. But she only got the job after you gave her permission. Even then she thought she got a job you'd approve of, a job where she could show you she had some business acumen like you did. And what did you do; you ignored her. Well those three men she worked for didn't ignore her; they praised her, they paid her, they rewarded her, they even kept her on when they had to let others go. Too bad though; one of them got other ideas."

I thought, 'Yeah this is when the bullshit starts; the part where he says I've got to forgive, forget, and take back. He never said that though; not exactly anyway.'

But he kept shitting up the water with his fucking college boy logic, "The villain there turned out to be the old guy; he got the idea they could use her to bolster turnover in the black communities by using her like a waitress, a maid, a cute little white slave girl. The banks, some of them, were still issuing sub-prime loans and mom became an unwitting part of their sales pitch. You know what; it worked. In fact it worked so good they got the idea they could fill her too small tank with alcohol." 

"Dad," he said, "You know she's small. You always said she could never hold her liquor. It didn't take much and they had her just high enough, just inebriated enough to let loose a little. Then it got easy. Throw in a little food, but soak the food in something that helped their cause." 

I'll admit the shit-ass had my attention.

Travis added, "You ever heard of 'roofies' dad? You know what Ecstasy is? You have any idea what something like Molecular could do to her system? Well they did; or one of them did. Man they were good. They had her doing simple things. Little things like sitting on laps and letting them feel a tit, maybe rub a thigh, but she wasn't 'up' for the 'big jump'."

"Dad," he told me, "These drugs, especially the Molecular loosens a person's inhibitions, it confuses their sense, it encourages the user to shift their normal feelings of empathy and compassion from a loved one to the person they're with. Even then mom wouldn't budge from her deeper moral beliefs. The brothers had to come up with something."

I was in disbelief, and I told my asshole son I didn't believe any of his bullshit, but the shit had me listening so what could I do?

Travis drilled it in, "The oldest, that Hiram, wanted it all so he concocted a scheme. He got it so the youngest of the three came off like a borderline rapist, then he, the oldest, could swoop in and save her. They'd flooded her with so much shit she rolled over. Once he got in her panties that first time they had her; she was their toy, their little piece of fluff. Sure it had something to do with her being white, but it was the thrill of control, they had her under their thumbs ."

I was just amazed. All these years my son had a fucking brain and never let on. 

Travis nailed it down, "They drugged her dad. They drugged her and used her." 

He sighed, "Now all my life you've called me an asshole, but you know what dad; you're the asshole. You had a benumbed worshipping obedient little woman who would have done anything for you and you ignored her, told her she could get a job, and go it alone. Dad it was almost lie you put her out on the street. You know what we're lucky in a way. She could have ended up in the clutches of some biker, some real conman, or worse!"



~~v~~



Well that's the short version of what my son Travis told me. I never thought he had it in him. When he was finished I asked, no I told him, "And now I guess I'm supposed to forgive the lying cheating whore, take her back, remarry her, and live happily ever fucking after."