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A Whore?

By: A_Member



I was waiting for Mike near the school entrance when I saw him walk out the door with several girls. I smiled at the thought that they, too, found him attractive. But Mike was mine -- or perhaps I was his -- but either way, he wasn't available to them. I walked toward the group and recognized only a couple of the girls. As I neared the group, one of the girls turned and saw me. I smiled, but she turned to the group as if she'd not seen me. Suddenly the whole group turned to watch me approach ...I felt like the spoiler of a party!

But Mike moved to greet me. With his arm around by waist, he pulled me close and kissed me on the cheek. "Hi, babe, sorry I'm late." Then turning to the group of girls, he waved and called, "Bye! See y'all Monday."

As we walked away, Mike's arm around my shoulders, I heard some comments but couldn't make out the words. Then a girl said more loudly than normal, "Ahh, she's just a whore!"

Mike stopped and whirled around glaring at them. I didn't know what the hell was going on. One of the girls stared angrily at Mike, then glared at me, turned and walked back into the school followed by the others. 

Mike put his arm around my shoulders and led me toward the car. "Dumb bitch!" He said with some anger in his voice. "Don't pay any attention to Sharon, Kelli, she's jealous of you, that's all."

I looked at him and frowned. "What? You mean she was talking about me? She called me a whore?"

As Mike drove away from the school, I slid over onto the center console. Leaning against him, I kissed his cheek and put my arm around his neck. He grinned at me and offered his lips, which I eagerly kissed. Then not wanting him to wreck the car, I laid my head on his shoulder and caressed his chest.

A whore? As we drove to his house, I kept thinking about it, but the problem was that I really didn't know what a whore was -- not so sure that I know now. I mean, sure, I'd heard people say the word and I knew that it was usually used as a derogatory term, but what did it really mean? And more to the point, was I really a whore? Hell, not knowing the definition or actual meaning of the term, I was confused.

In Mike's basement playroom, he handed me a cold beer, which I didn't really want but took anyway. Tossing his jacket on a chair, he sat down on the sofa and held out his arms for me. Stepping up close to him, he put his arms around my waist and put his face against my belly. Hugging me tight, he made little kissing noises. Then lifting my shirt, he kissed my bare belly and slid his hands down my back and onto my butt, pulling me even closer. Leaning to the side, I put my beer bottle on the end table and caressed his cheeks and head as he kissed my belly.

Even as I stood there wondering what a whore was, he undid my skirt and pushed it down to the floor. Feeling his hands on the bare skin of my butt, I shivered with delight and anticipation as he slid the thong down my legs. I looked down at him nuzzling my belly and pulled his face tighter to my body. Hmm, did that make me a whore? I could feel him trying to place his kisses further down my belly. I didn't want to stand there while he kissed and licked my cunt, so I pushed him away and sat down beside him. As I tried to snuggle close to him, he pulled my shirt off over my head. Naked, I looked up at him and smiled happily. His arm went around my shoulders and his hand sought my breast and nipple as I snuggled close to him.

As he massaged my breast and teased my nipple, I thought again about the meaning of the word 'whore'. There were several girls in school that the kids called or thought of as whores, but they seemed to be nice, normal girls. I mean, I didn't know what they did on dates or with boys, but...? So what made them whores and some of the other girls that dated boys not whores?

"What's a whore, Mike?" I asked, still snuggling tightly against his warm body. 

He tugged at my nipple, kissed my head and said, "Hmm, a whore is ...well, a whore is a girl who sells her body for sex ...I guess?"

"But that's a prostitute, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so." He said, tugging firmly on my nipple. "Shit, babe, I don't know what a whore is ...I mean, it's just a nasty name, ain't it?"

He stood up, removed his clothes and sat back down. With his arm around me again, he pulled me tightly against his body. I snuggled against the warmth of his naked skin feeling secure, loved and happy. As I kissed his chest, his fingers were back to massaging my breast and tugging at my nipple. Moving my arm so as not to interfere with his, I grasped his cock, stroking the warm, hard shaft.

We snuggled and teased each other for a while, then he kissed my head. Chuckling, he said, "Hey, are you gonna' suck my dick or just play with it?"

I looked up at him and grinned. "Oh, Mike, I'll do whatever you want ...you know that!"

He didn't hesitate to pull my head down into his lap. And I didn't hesitate to take his hard cock into my mouth. I dearly loved sucking his cock and was more than happy to obey his direction. As his hand massaged my breast, I sucked and licked and kissed his big, hard cock. He murmured with pleasure as I licked the smooth head, sliding my lips down over the hard shaft. We had hours before I had to go home, so I took my time to enjoy the big cock and to give him as much pleasure as I could before he climaxed. 

I guess I loved Mike, but I use that term for want of any other term to explain my feelings for him. But I'm not even sure to this day what the hell love is. Either I was born without a 'love gene' or love is something that has eluded me all of my life. I've liked a lot of people, but was it love? I've had sex with lots of boys and men, and have enjoyed it tremendously. But was it for love or just for the physical, sexual pleasure? And how am I to know? I've enjoyed sex with guys that I'd only met and ones that I've known for years ...and the sex was fantastic. So where does love come into the mix? No one has ever adequately explained love to me other than with nebulous, meaningless phrases like 'oh, you'll know it when it happens' or 'it's the greatest feeling ever', etc. It's a major mystery to me.

I pulled my mouth from his lovely cock and glanced up at him. "Is this being a whore, Mike? I mean, like, would Sharon suck you off like this?"

He pushed my head back down and chuckled. "Kelli, will you quit with the whore-business? I don't know what the fuck a whore is!" He caressed my head lovingly. "Kelli, you aren't a whore, okay? Please ...you're not a whore!" 

I pulled off again and giggled. "So all girls suck off their boyfriends like this?"

Pushing my head back down, he said, "Goddammit ...will you shut the fuck up and suck my dick! Some girls are whores and some ain't ...I guess? Who the fuck cares, anyway?" 

I continued to suck and lick and kiss his beautiful cock. I thought about the word whore some, but I must admit that sucking his cock was far, far more important to me that some damned word. I'd only been sucking his cock for a few minutes when two hands grabbed my hips and jerked me around onto my back. Or rather, my lower half was on my back and my upper half was twisted to face Mike's cock. I pulled my mouth from his cock and glanced around. Tommy was standing by the sofa grinning down at me and removing his clothes.

"What the hell?" I asked glancing up at Mike. "When did he get here?"

They both laughed and Mike pushed my head back down into his lap. I felt Tommy's hands push my legs apart. I now had one foot on the floor, the other up on the sofa with my knee up and tilted to the side. His fingers were gently caressing and probing my cunt. I was already wet and ready before he came in but now I was as slick and wet as I'd ever been. I looked up at him and watched him roll a condom onto his long, hard cock. 

Glancing up at Mike, then looking him, I asked, "Tommy, am I a whore?"

Tommy stopped and stared at me for a moment. Then he frowned and looked at Mike. "What the fuck? Is she drunk or something?"

Mike chuckled and pushed my head back down onto his hard cock. I felt Tommy kneel between my legs and finger my cunt as Mike said, "No, she ain't drunk ...that dumb bitch Sharon called her a whore and she's been worried about it ever since."

"Sharon? That stupid bitch!" He said with some anger. "Want me to go slap the shit outta her, Kelli?"

I glanced at him and laughed. "No! Geez, I don't want you slap her ...I just wondered if she's right ...am I a whore? And what the hell is a whore?"

Tommy looked at me and frowned in confusion, but Mike again pushed my head down into his lap. As Tommy's cock began to probe for my hot, wet, ready hole, Mike said, "I don't think she's a whore, do you?"

I think Tommy actually said something, but it was muffled by his grunting noises as his big cock stabbed into my cunt. With a cock in my mouth and one pumping into my cunt, I forgot about whether I was a whore or not and started enjoying great sex with my two favorite guys fucking my brains out.

I don't know if it was the talk about whores or not, but Mike was ready to climax rather quickly. It was not what I wanted ...I wanted to enjoy him in my mouth and on my lips a lot longer. But the telltale swelling and increased rigidity of his cock had started and, at that point, there was almost no turning back. So wanting to give him as much pleasure as I could, I tried to ignore Tommy fucking my cunt and concentrated on loving Mike's cock. Using my tongue, I pressed his cock firmly against the roof of my mouth and added increased pressure with my lips. I wanted to help him have the best orgasm of his life, but he seemed more interested in just blasting off and not attempting to set a record! With his hand pressing down on my head, the big cock swelled and then his hips jerked involuntarily. I heard a low moaning sound, then felt the hot, sweet fluid splash into my mouth and onto my tongue. He groaned, then the cock swelled again and the second, sweet offering of cum splashed onto my tongue. I sucked at the big cock trying to draw out all of the delicious cum. He moaned softly and began to caress my naked body and making low murmuring sounds. I sucked at his cock lovingly, then glanced up at him and smiled. He smiled stiffly and lay his head back on the sofa and moaned.

Tommy was still fucking my cunt with powerful thrusts of his hips. But we'd been having sex for several months and I'd finally trained him not to thrust too deeply. His cock was one of the longest in the entire school and when we first met and began fucking, it sometimes felt as if he was trying to fuck my lungs! While he'd not actually hurt me, it caused me to have mild aches in my belly. I'd finally convinced him not to thrust too deeply or with such force.

With my head on Mike's thigh, I looked at Tommy and grinned. "C'mon, Tommy, fuck your little whore ...fuck me good!"

He grinned and thrust the long, hard cock deeply into my body. "Uh! You ain't no ...uh, ...whore, ...uhhhh!"

I reached up and caressed his chest and then his cheek. Smiling at him, I lifted my leg up over his back and pulled in rhythm to his thrusts. "Fuck me, Tommy! Fuck this little whore ...fuck me good ...fuck me deep, baby!" Even as I murmured the words, his thrusts began faster and not so deep. I dragged my fingernails down his naked chest and grinned, "Ooh, fuck me, Tommy! I'm your little whore, Tommy, ...fuck your little whore, ...fuck her good!" 

Tommy grinned down at me, then grunted as he thrust his cock deep into my cunt. Holding for a moment, the cock deep inside my body, he moaned softly and I felt the big cock swell. With a few more slow powerful thrusts, he sank it deep into my body and climaxed. With short thrusts and deep grunts of effort, the secondary spurts surged from his cock. He was breathing deeply and grinning down at me.

"Oh, god, Tommy," I said smiling at him. "You made your little whore happy ...very, very happy." I caressed his cheek and chest. "Your little whore thanks you."

Tommy finally pulled his softening cock out of my cunt and slouched onto the sofa beside me. I crawled up and snuggled firmly against Mike's warm body. Mike's arm came around my neck and began to massage my breast and nipple. Tommy leaned down and lay his head on my thigh, still breathing heavily but with a smile on his face.

Snuggling against Mike and caressing Tommy's back and shoulder, I said, "You guys sure know how to make a little whore happy!"

Not moving his head, Tommy said, "What's with this whore-shit? What the hell did you do to her, Mike?"

Mike chuckled and tugged sharply at my nipple. "I didn't do shit, man ...that dumb cunt Sharon started all this ...this whore-crap. Next time I see her, I'm gonna' put my boot toe into her filthy cunt!"

I laughed and fondled Mike's big, soft cock. "Oh, c'mon, guys, I'm just havin' fun ...it doesn't bother me. And leave Sharon alone ...she doesn't understand."

"Dumb cunt!" Said Mike angrily. "I oughta' smack the shit outta' that bitch!"

We snuggled and caressed each other for a few minutes, enjoying the warm glow of after-sex. Mike tugged at my nipple and kissed my head. Tommy finally stood up and when to the bar for cold beer. Handing each of us a cold beer, Tommy sat down on the floor with one hand on my thigh.

Feeling safe, secure and loved, I snuggled up to Mike and asked quietly, "What is a whore, anyway? I mean, I know that Sharon meant it as a nasty remark, but what is a whore? What's the definition?"

"Oh, shit," Mike said guzzling some more beer. "What's the big deal, Kelli? Fuck her and the goat she rode in on!"

Tommy looked at me and grinned. "You want to be my little ...oops, our little whore, Kelli?"

I tousled his hair. "Yeah, I think I do ...can I be your little whore?" I glanced up at Mike and smiled happily. 

Mike grunted. "Bullshit! You've not a whore, Kelli ...mine or Tommy's or anyone else's whore."

"So, ...what's a whore?" 

"Goddamn!" Mike swore. "Will you stop asking that! I don't know what the fuck a whore is ...how am I supposed to know?" 

Tommy was a little more fun. "Hey, a whore is someone, well, a woman, right ...who fucks for money. Ain't that right?" 

"No, I don't think so." I said grinning at him. "That's a prostitute, ain't it? Or are they the same things? Hell, I don't know, guys, that's why I'm asking y'all."

"A whore is someone who will ...well, who'll fuck just anyone who asks her."

I looked up at Mike and thought about his comment. "Geez, you mean ...like, anyone? Even someone she doesn't like?"

"Well, yeah ...I guess." Mike said shaking his head and rolling his eyes in confusion. "I mean, ...well, if she only fucks people she likes, then ...hmm...?"

"Yeah, if a girl only fucks people she likes or loves," I said, speaking slowly to think about it. "Then is ...well, a wife fucks the person she loves -- does that make all wives whores?" They laughed loudly, but I continued. "No, let's talk about girlfriends, not wives, okay? A wife ...well, she has a ...well, a certificate that says she's not a whore, right?" We all laughed, undoubtedly thinking of our mothers. "But if a girl dates a guy for weeks or months, then has sex with him, does that make her a whore?" 

Tommy looked at me and frowned. "No, Kelli, a whore is ...no, not someone's girlfriend! Shit, that'd make lots of girls whores." He frowned in concentration. "No, a whore is someone who has sex with several guys."

"At the same time?" I asked looking quizzically at him. "Like we just did?"

"Ahh, no, ...we didn't ...I mean," he stuttered with new confusion. "No, Kelli, you're not a whore ...that's like, well, some girl who fucks some guy, then goes off to fuck another guy, then another and another. See?"

I looked at him a grinned. "Well, I fucked Jason, then fucked you, then fucked Mike, then fucked Adam, so ...I'm a whore?"

He jumped up and glared at me. "Goddammit, Kelli! You ain't a whore, okay?"

I laughed. "Tommy, c'mon, it ain't no big deal. I told you ...I want to be your whore, ...yours and Mike's whore. What's wrong with that?"

He still glared down at me, but I could see that it was as confusing to him as it was to me. "With you and us it's ...no, Kelli, it's different for us. And you ain't a whore, dammit!"

He stormed off toward the bar for more beer. I glanced up at Mike and smiled. "I think I like the idea ...being your whore ...well, yours and Tommy's. Can I be your whore, Mike?" I laughed and he caressed my breast. Watching his fingers play with my nipple, I said, "Geez, I kinda' like the idea ...whatever the hell it means!" 

He laughed and pinched my nipple. "Well, you're a cute little whore ...so, okay, Kelli, you can be our little whore ...our cute, little whore."

I giggled and snuggled up close to him feeling warm and secure and loved. Tommy came back and laid his head back on my thigh. Two of my favorite guys demonstrating their love and providing for my sexual pleasure and joy -- and, of course, me returning it with eagerness. If that was being a whore, then I sure didn't mind being a whore. In fact, I loved it and wanted to keep being one!

A few days later, I was sitting cross-legged on the sofa snuggled up against Mike as Cheryl and Adam sat in the chair across from us. She was sitting on his lap crosswise with her face snuggled to his neck. Cheryl had become one of my best female friends, of which I had few. I'd reluctantly helped her lose her virginity with Adam and she'd been overly sexual ever since. Adam was her first lover, but she and Adam had eagerly joined Mike and Tommy and I in many group sex parties at Mike's playroom. Over the months previous, I'd become unknowingly possessive of the guys, but she and I overcame that initial conflict of possessiveness. We were more than happy to share them. 

Each guy, however, played a special and different role in my life. Mike was my rock of stability and the one I turned to for soft, warm cuddling and snuggling. He was especially good for that after-sex glow of closeness and tenderness. Tommy was almost always the one most eager for physical sex and usually the instigator for the parties as well as the sexual activities. He was also the one with the longest cock in the world, and he was always most eager to display it. Adam was a joiner -- whatever the others wanted to do, he was happy to join in. He was a good sex partner and paid close attention to my reactions and needs. There were several other boys who occasionally joined our group sex parties and all of them were good friends of Mike, Tommy or Adam.

Snuggling with Mike, I watched Adam's hand snake up under Cheryl's shirt. Her tits were absolutely lovely -- firm, rounded and full. Having been born with small tits, I had some difficulties coping with her lovely body and magnificent tits. It was only a little envy and didn't seem to cause any problems for us. She giggled as his fingers played with the nipples. Not to be outdone, she slid her hand down the front of his pants and grasped his cock. He glanced at me then grinned happily at Cheryl and said, "Damn, she's hot as a pistol!"

I laughed and winked at him. "Yeah, she's hot stuff, huh? Think you can handle it, Adam?" 

Cheryl grinned at me as Adam pushed her shirt open revealing her lovely, firm tits. I stared at her tits wishing again that mine were like that. I snuggled against Mike feeling thankful that he and Tommy both liked my small tits. Mike often made derisive comments about Karen's big tits, which he called 'water balloon tits'. I didn't want tits like that, sagging and flabby. But tits like Cheryl's were lovely and the few times I'd caressed them during group sex, the firmness was exciting and arousing. I could understand Adam and the guys being taken by them. 

We'd planned the sex party earlier and were really just waiting for Tommy. He'd also mentioned that he might bring Calvin, another good friend and sex partner. He was late, which wasn't normal for him. In fact, Tommy was usually the first one at the parties and was always eager to get things started.


A Whore and a Thief



Hey Folks. It's the middle of winter and it's as cold as hell out there. I thought I'd give you one to read on those cold nights when there's nothing on TV. This one like the last is a bit longer to give me a chance to stretch my legs. Another thing that gave me a bit more confidence is the fact that I was standing on the shoulders of a giant on this one. While writing this story I had the help and encouragement of the incredible Barney-R editing it. I learned a lot. And although most of it went over my head, there are fewer commas here than ever before. As I said before this one is a bit longer and a bit involved. So if you need a quick story to facilitate self-service, this ain't it. For everyone though...Enjoy! SS06 

* * * * * *

I looked across my Mustang's hood at the orbital polisher. It was still new and shiny. I had only taken it out of the box once. And that had been the day that Claire had given it to me. As much as she hated my car, she had given me the polisher, supposedly to help me take care of it. Of course I knew she'd had an ulterior motive. 

Claire thought that if I had the polisher, washing and waxing my car wouldn't take as long. I guess she didn't understand that the simple act of rubbing a microfiber rag across the car's brightly painted skin was akin to giving a massage to a lover. It bonded the car to me and I to it in and action that was almost intimate. The polisher, although it would make the car shinier than I ever could by hand, interrupted that intimacy ... Okay, maybe she knew me better than I gave her credit for. 

I put the rag down and walked across our large yard to where Claire was sunning herself. Every time I saw Claire, her beauty hit me all over again. It truly was the gift that kept on giving. 

"What are you looking at husband of mine?" she asked lifting her sunglasses.

"The most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I said. 

"You've told me that almost every day for the past twenty-three years," she said. "But somehow, I just never get tired of hearing it. I'm going to have to get your eyes checked though, Honey. I'm fifty years old. I'm no spring chicken. There are lots of tender young things out there who could catch your attention, if you let them."

"You are the only woman I've ever loved," I said. "I've loved you since the first day I saw you and I'll love you until the day I die." 

"I don't think so," she smirked. She sat up playfully and lifted her glasses again. "I think you love her...just as much." She pointed across the yard at my "Screaming Yellow," 2009 Mustang GT. 

I sighed in exasperation. "Claire, that was a long time ago and another car," I said. "We've been doing great. Let's not go back there. I love my cars, but I love you more." 

"I know that, Honey," she said. "But women are funny creatures. Sometimes even when we know that our men feel a certain way, we like to hear them say it. And sometimes we like to have them show it."

"I remember," I said bitterly. As if she'd sensed that she'd misspoken, she changed her facial expression and her tactics. 

"I love you too, you know," she said. "I always have. Despite my reservations at first, I always did want to marry you Ray. There has never been one moment in my life when I've been sorry about marrying you. But you love that car. Every few years there's another one. The worst times are when you first get them and when you're about to trade them in. When you first get them, it's almost like you have a new love. When you're about to trade them in, it's like you're about to say goodbye to a woman you've loved forever."

She was beautiful, and that was the problem. Every guy who'd ever set eyes on her wanted her. It had always been that way Students in the high school that she taught at made fools of themselves over her, even though she was now fifty years of age. Other teachers, administrators, and parents also did stupid things to get her attention, but she came home to me every night.

"Ray, why don't you..." she started to say, when we heard the doorbell ring.

"Ray, Honey, that's Sarah Winston. She's here to pick up the check for my donation to the Children's Fund. Can you fetch it for me? I already wrote it. It's in my purse on the kitchen counter."

"Claire, you know I hate looking through your purse," I whined. She pouted her bottom lip and predictably...

"Okay," I said, just as Sarah switched from ringing the doorbell to knocking on the gate. 

I quickly went inside the house. I found Claire's purse but didn't find the check. I looked further down inside of it. In a pocket near the bottom of the purse, I found a bank card and a checkbook. I pulled the checkbook out and noticed that it wasn't our bank. Our checks had both of our names on them. This checkbook had only Claire's name. I pulled out my phone and jotted down the account number. Then I put both the checkbook and the bank card back. 

I found the check, not in her purse, nor on the kitchen counter, but on the living room counter. I snatched it and took it out to Claire. 

I handed the check to Sarah and returned to polishing my Mustang. As Claire spoke to Sarah, I continued polishing my car. They got up after a few minutes as Claire walked Sarah to the gate. Sarah was taller and had bigger boobs and a bigger butt. She was also fifteen years younger than Claire and ten years younger than me. But next to Claire she may as well have been a boy. 

"Ray; that is the yellowest car I've ever seen. That paint is so bright, it almost glows in the dark," she said. "I dated a guy who had a Mustang a couple of months ago. His was brand new. But somehow yours looks so much more ... aggressive. It's more brash and menacing looking." She gently trailed a couple of fingers across the car's body panels. Then she waved at me with the same two fingers.

I closed the gate after her and started to go back to polishing. "She wants you," said Claire. 

"No she doesn't," I said. "She just knows that there's no way anyone could come between us. But she wants to see if she's sexy enough to take me from you. She ain't."

"At least not yet," said Claire. "But we both know that I have more lines in my face now than I did only a year ago. And if my boobs were big, they'd be shrunken and resting on my tummy. My legs have always been thin, so there's no flab to..."

"Claire, shut up," I said. "I will always love you. And you concentrate too much on how pretty you are so you forget sometimes that I love the insides of you too."

"Yeah, I know that," she said. "You stick that thing into my insides so often that no one could forget it. You do know that I'm a poor old fifty year old lady. It's cruel for you to keep forcing yourself on me sexually, right?"

"Sorry, Claire," I said. "I thought that you still..."

"Ray you dummy. I was only joking," she said. "You know women can handle a lot more sex than any man can. And even though you're still in your forties I can screw you under the table any time. Besides, what we do isn't just sex, Honey. I love having you inside of me. But, really I understand what you're trying to say and I love you even more for it."

I leaned over and kissed her. She kicked her legs up around my waist and turned my peck into a much more passionate kiss. 

"I was going to take a nap, Ray. I'm kind of tired. But I think you should do me for a little while before I drift off," she said.

"I think you should take your nap and get your strength back so I can do you all night," I replied. 

"Oh my God, do you two ever stop?" yelled Betty Cooper over the fence. Betty was our next door neighbor and Claire's long time best friend. Her husband Archie was my golfing buddy. 

A few minutes later Betty came through the gate. I hugged her as hard as I could and she kissed me on the cheek. I loved Betty. If it weren't for her and Archie, my marriage would have probably ended ten years ago. 

"Ray, can I cut into your Sunday afternoon sex, to talk to Claire for a while?" she asked. I just moved out of the way and let them go at it. They were talking about one of the couples in the neighborhood who were divorcing and selling their house. 

While they talked, I went back inside the house. I pulled Claire's hidden checkbook out of her purse and looked up the bank's online banking website. The checkbook itself was no help. No checks had ever been written on the account. The first check was still in the book. 

I entered the account number and tried her usual password. Claire had a habit of using the same password for everything. She said that in an emergency, if one of us needed to get into the other's account, it could come in handy. Her password was 5591. It meant May fifth, 1991. She called it the happiest day of her life. It was the day we got married.

It didn't work. I tried her birthday. It also didn't work. Neither did my birthday or our address. I was going to try the last four digits of her social security number, but I remembered something she'd been talking about a lot lately. I tried 8326: August, third, two thousand and twenty six. The day she turned sixty two and the day we would both quit our jobs and retire. We had been dreaming of that day for a very long time. That was the day we would dedicate ourselves, not to the engineering firm that I worked for or the school she taught at, but to each other. We would travel, relax, and spend every waking moment together. It was our dream. 

It was also the correct password. As soon as the account opened, I saw the balance in it. I immediately knew that my marriage was over. I put the checkbook back in Claire's purse and left the house, so angry I could barely breathe.

"Claire, I'm going out for a drive," I said as I passed by her and Betty. 

"Take Archie with you," said Betty. "Get his lazy ass off of my couch."

Claire looked at me strangely. I didn't realize why until I had driven away. It was unusual for me to go anywhere without kissing her goodbye. 

I opened the gate and backed down my driveway. Archie came out onto his porch as I neared the street. I kept driving. I needed to get away from everyone and everything. As I left the side streets and got onto the freeway, my speed increased along with my anger. I had wasted ten fucking years with nothing to show for it. 

The further away from the city I got, the fewer cars that were on the road. I was so lost in my thoughts that I failed to notice the cop until I had passed him. I was doing a hundred and sixty five miles an hour. I slowed down and pulled over. I had to wait a while for him to catch up to me. 

"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?" he asked. I handed him my license, registration, and proof of insurance.

"Yes officer, I was doing a hundred and sixty five," I said. "Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts and didn't realize that I was going that fast."

"My radar gun pegged you at one seventy," he said. "That's not ticket territory, that's go to jail and confiscate your car ville. What is so bad that you were doing almost a hundred miles an hour more than the speed limit?"

"I just found out that my wife cheated on me," I said. "And she's my whole world. I just don't know how to handle it or what I'm going to do about it." 

He just looked me in the eye and shook his head. He handed me my license and other documents back. "Mr. Gunn, it's going to get a lot worse before it gets any better. Just slow down, I know it feels like the end of the world, but you will live through it and get over it."

"So, I can go?" I asked in confusion.

"Yes sir," he said. "I know what you're going through. I've been there. Drive safely ... and slowly," he threw in.

I restarted my engine and drove safely and slowly on my way. I passed a park a few miles down the road and pulled in. I got out of my car and walked over to a fountain. The fountain had lots of coins in the bottom of it. I had a few coins in my pocket and pitched the whole handful of them in. I'd never been one who believed in the paranormal or anything like that but I made a wish. 

I wished with all my heart that I had never met Claire. Throwing the coins in the fountain was an exercise in futility. As angry as I was, I threw them with all of the strength I could muster. It didn't do me any good. Nor did it damage the fountain or the water that filled it. The water absorbed all of the force from the coins, slowing them down until they settled on the bottom with all of the other coins. The fountain didn't give a shit how angry I was. It didn't care how much I hurt either. It couldn't it was only a fountain.

Making the wish, wishing that I had never met Claire also backfired. All it did was to start to me to thinking about how I met her.

It was twenty-three years ago. I was on the verge of graduating from college with my Bachelor's degree in Engineering. I was twenty-two years old and thought I had the world on a string. 

But when I saw Claire, I was no longer the one in control of the string. And of course, I wasn't the only guy who saw her. I think every guy on campus saw her. She ruled the place like it was her own little kingdom: not even the cheerleaders, or the jocks were immune to her charms. 

Claire just wandered around campus as if she was above the struggles of petty mortals. I followed her around every chance I got, but I had never spoken to her. She was an education major so we didn't have any classes in common. But somehow she noticed me one day and waved. 

I pointed at myself and she nodded. I was still tentative about approaching her. "Yeah, you," she said. "Come on over here."

I slowly walked over to her, wondering why she wanted to talk to me. 

"Okay," she said, smiling. "You seem to be the last one. Let's get this over with."

Up close I could see that she was even more beautiful than I had believed. Her skin was flawless and she almost seemed to glow. She wasn't very busty but she had just enough to draw a man's interest. Her legs while not spectacular were very nice too. 

"What do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Come on, this is where you give me your best cheesy pick up line. Then I blow you off and you leave and call me a lesbian or a bitch. But at the same time a bunch of people have seen you talking to me, so it boosts your ego. And maybe some other girl that you're interested in will see or hear about us talking and figure that maybe there's something to you that she hadn't noticed and give you a chance." She smiled at me and my mouth dropped open in awe. 

"What?" she asked. 

"Nothing," I said. "When you smiled just then, I ... I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, even on TV."

"Everyone smiles," she said looking at me curiously. "You don't seem like the rest of them. You're not very smooth. You haven't really gone after very many women have you?"

I shook my head. "Then why me?" she asked.

"You called me over," I said. 

"So if I hadn't called you over you would never have spoken to me?" She asked.

"Probably not," I said. "I'm kind of shy. And seriously, there's nothing that really stands out about me. I'm just a normal guy."

"Believe it or not, being a normal guy is kind of attractive," she said. "All I ever get are guys on some sports team. Or guys who haven't done anything at all themselves, who think they're special because their family has more money than a small country."

She looked at me again and gave me another one of those smiles. "How old are you," she asked. "What are you in school for?"

"I'm about to get my Bachelor's in Engineering," I said. "I already have a very good job lined up. I'm twenty two years old."

"I'm working on my Master's in Education," she said confidently. "But I'm twenty seven years old. So you see; we're too different. And I'm too old for you. It was really nice talking to you. I hope you're a success in Engineering. And for what it's worth, I spoke to you for far longer than the rest of them. That should get you something."

The next day she noticed me again. And she waved me over again. 

"You do know that this university has rules against stalking, right?" she asked. I nodded quickly.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But you called me over to you both times. I was never going to bother you. I just..."

"You just what?" she asked. 

"I just like looking at you. And I liked talking to you yesterday even more. There's just something amazing about you," I said.

"So you're going to risk my giant boyfriend beating the crap out of you, just to look at me from afar?" she asked. I quickly nodded.

"It would be worth it," I said. "But when he showed up, I'd probably leave because it would hurt too much having to see you with another guy."

"Well, if you're going to follow me around, you may as well be useful, handing me a stack of books. I accepted them and followed her. As we walked, I noticed that even the way she walked was special. She seemed to glide effortlessly from foot to foot as if she was weightless.

When we got to her car, she quickly turned around and caught me staring at her. "Ray, were you staring at my ass?" she asked.

"No!" I said quickly. "I was just watching the way you walk. You're very graceful. You seem to just float."

"I did ballet for most of my life," she smiled. "And not having to carry all of those books, after lugging them all morning was like a vacation."

"Hey, how did you know my name?" I asked. 

"A couple of my class mates saw me talking to you yesterday and mentioned you in class," she said. "You have a pretty good reputation. Supposedly, you're pretty smart. AND, you're supposed to be a nice guy. So what do you want for carrying my books?"

"Gosh, I'd have paid you for the chance to carry them," I said.

She smiled and shook her head. "Ray, it's not the 1950's. Please don't ever say "Gosh" again," she had the funniest look on her face. "Okay, meet me tomorrow; same place, same time. If I do well on my test, I'll let you take me for coffee.

As she drove off, I was stunned. I hadn't even hoped for the chance to sit down and talk to her.

For most of that evening and night, I was so nervous that I couldn't concentrate on my own studies. I kept telling myself that it wouldn't happen. She's gonna show up the next day and say that she had gotten a "B" on her test and that wasn't up to her standards so we weren't going. I also imagined some six foot tall, chiseled Scandinavian guy with an accent, stepping out of the woodwork to beat my ass over her. 

The next day came and I went to class. I don't remember a single thing about that lecture. I'm not sure if there even was a lecture. But when the professor released us, I was on my feet and running for the door. My body reacted before my brain even realized that I needed to move. And then time was against me. Her class didn't end for another hour. The time passed so slowly that it seemed as if I had time to give each new second a name, write that name down on a list, and then mail that list home, before the next second began. 

I stood outside of her building, trying not to look nervous or anxious. When she finally appeared, she was walking with two other women. The other two women were around my age. One of them had short brown hair and had her books in a backpack. The other had long black hair and was pulling one of those wheeled carriers with her books in it. 

Claire handed her books to me. "How'd you do?" I asked. 

"I got a "B," she said. 

"Oh, sorry," I said, looking disappointed. 

"Are you crazy?" she asked. "A "B" is awesome!"

"I just thought that you deserve better,

"He's really cute, Claire. Are you going to keep him?" asked one of her friends. 

Before she could answer; a guy who had to have been six foot four, with a lifetime subscription to the steroid of the month club came over.

"Please tell me you're joking," he said. "I've asked you out at least ten God damned times. Do you know who I am? Do you know that anything he can give you, I can double? What the fuck is going on?"




A Whore and a Thief



"Okay, he has a nine inch dick, and he can keep it up for three hours," said Claire. "Whip it out and let's measure it."

The guy, wilted in front of us. "You'll be bored with him in a week," he said. "So don't try to come running back to me."

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to come between you two. I should probably go."

"Ray, what are you talking about?" she asked. "I've never dated that gorilla. I never would date that gorilla. He's one of the guys who throws a ball or catches it or something. The only things I know about him are that his family is rich and he seems to carry empty beer cans around with him so he can crush them on his forehead. Let's get our coffee."

I told Claire's friends that I had enjoyed meeting them, and they went their way and Claire and I went ours. We sat down and ordered and she looked across the small table at me and smiled. My IQ dropped forty points. I couldn't think of a thing to say. 

"Ray, are you okay?" she asked. 

I shook my head. "I practiced everything I wanted to say," I said. "But I can't think of a single one of them."

"Ray, I'm just a girl," she said. "And we kind of have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" I asked. 

"That gorilla knows a lot of people. So you're going to have to hang around for a few weeks so I can prove him wrong," she said. 

"I can do that," I said. 

"In a way it'll be a good thing," she said. "That way most of the idiots who try to hit on me will back off."

* * * * * *

Claire

As I heard the sound of Ray's Mustang drive off, I reached for my cover-up. 

"That man has no idea how scrumptious he is," said Betty. "Every year he gets hotter. And he loves you so much, Claire. You are so lucky. Over the past ten years the two of you seem to have become even tighter. Hey, I thought you were tanning?"

"Are you crazy?" I asked. "Do you know what the sun does to your skin?"

"Then why the hell are you out here, wearing a bikini that most twenty year olds would feel embarrassed about?" she asked.

"That's my way of taking Ray's attention away from my rival," I said. "I have to keep the amount of time he spends on that fucking car in check. So when he plays with it. I come out here in an outfit designed to break his concentration. Most of the time he never finishes washing that car and we end up back in the house with other things to do."

"But you're fifty, Claire," she said. 

"I don't care," I said. "I love him so much. And every year it gets better. Do you know that when we first got together, I didn't even like sex? I thought it was just something women give their men to keep them happy. Don't get me wrong, I had orgasms. But it just seemed like too much emphasis to put on a couple of seconds worth of inability to control my motor functions. 

I loved Ray, he wanted sex, I gave it to him. I gave it to him whenever he wanted it, however he wanted it. But after the incident...Everyone thought that Ray and I were fine. But it took a long time for us to be comfortable with each other again. It was mostly Ray. I forgave him for accusing me after only a few hours, but it took him a long time to get over it.

Ray has always had an inferiority complex. But he's especially bad when it comes to me. He used to ask me almost daily why I was with him. And now that I'm clearly on the way down, Ray still loves me so much that I can barely believe it. When that man looks at me, I can feel his love. It warms me and surrounds me like warm beams of sunshine. 

The funny thing about it is that over the years as I've been going down in terms of looks, Ray has been getting better. But it doesn't really matter because it was never Ray's looks that attracted me to him. It was his kindness and the way he made me feel. I've told you lots of times about how Ray and I met and how we had coffee that first time. But after that first time, really from when he and I first spoke, I knew there was something there. 

All of the odds were stacked against us. Ray was barely past twenty and I was approaching thirty. I had dated at least thirty or forty guys and had sexual relationships with nine or ten of them. I'd had a bunch of short flings, five longer relationships and been engaged twice. I later found out that Ray had dated only three girls and had sex with only two of them. I'd pretty much been through the mill and back. I knew what I wanted. I also knew that it probably wouldn't happen and had sealed myself off from love to work on plan B. Ray wasn't a part of my plan so he really threw me for a loop.

I figured at first that he and I would have coffee a few times where we could be seen and then I'd go back to normal. It didn't work that way at all. Before I knew it, Ray was showing up every day to carry my books. And he was so kind. He just threw off sparks like a new puppy. And our coffee dates, gradually became real dates at restaurants and going for walks. 

And then I started having problems in math. My goal, of course, was to be a teacher. But I had never on any level been good at math. I figured with my Master's I could probably teach any subject in school. But Math was kicking my ass. Believe it or not, one of my friends had to remind me that Ray was an engineering major. As soon as I mentioned it to him, he set up study sessions and I slowly improved. Eventually I became fairly solid in math and felt better about it.

That was when some of my friends started to pester me about Ray. My friend Patty was constantly pestering me about him. I guess, I had intimated to her in some fashion that when I was done with Ray, I'd hook the two of them up. I remember that I had said it in the beginning because I figured that it would lessen the blow on Ray.

But the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted to. I ended up getting into an argument with Patty over him. She showed up for class wearing a blouse that was so revealing, that when she walked down the hall guys were walking into walls. Of course she put a sweater over it before we went into the classroom. But once we got out of class, her intentions became clear.

"Patty, what's with the hooters blouse?" I asked her.

"I just thought that someone might notice me more if I played up some of my attributes," she smiled. "Besides it's been months since this thing started, and you told me it would only be a few weeks. You have to be done with him by now. The sooner you break things off with him. The less painful it's going to be for him. He's a really nice guy, Claire. Why hurt him?"

"I know that I'm not involved in this," said Margaret, my other close classmate. "But, I agree with Patty. Claire, continuing to string the guy along like this is cruel. It's like a cat playing with a mouse before it kills him. The cat knows that it's going to kill the mouse. Anyone watching knows the cat is going to kill the mouse. Shit, even the mouse knows it's done for, but the cat just prolongs it out of sheer enjoyment." 

"Claire, there are lots of your level of guys around us. Half of the jocks and rich guys here would give their left nut to go out with you. Shit, you're almost thirty. Some of the professors look at you like you're a steak and they've been eating only vegetables. You got everything you needed out of Ray, and more. Out of pure gratitude for his help in Math, you should let him go," said Patty.

Then Margaret, chimed back in. "What about the rest of us," she said. "Some of us aren't going to end up with the sports guys or the rich guys. For us a guy like Ray, who's smart and really nice, is the top of the line. But once you've broken his heart, he won't be good to anyone. The sooner you break things off with him the better."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that as usual Ray was standing there outside of my lecture building waiting for me. I also notice Patty adjusting her blouse. Some women love competing for a man. Clearly Patty was one of those because her nipples had gotten so hard that they were showing through the blouse. Her boobs were large and beautiful. Ray didn't have a chance. I looked at my two friends. I didn't have very many female friends. My looks kind of made it that way. But at that moment I made my choice. If I had to choose between the two of them and Ray, they would lose. 

As it was, there wasn't a battle. Ray, saw us, smiled at me and though I'm sure he saw them he barely glanced at Patty's display of boobage. I decided that he deserved a reward. So I gave him one and made either the best move of my life or the biggest mistake. As Ray reached out to take my books, the way he had so many times before, I just let them drop and stepped into his arms. I hugged him and almost went into shock. What I'd intended as a quick little hug, kind of like patting a puppy on the head as a reward for not shitting on the rug, sealed my fate.

As I hugged Ray, I felt it: I had dated, and been with guys who were, bigger than Ray. I had been with guys who were stronger than Ray. But I had never felt so loved and protected by any man outside of my own father. And my father might have come in second to that hug. I wrapped my arms around him tighter and held on for far longer than I intended. 

A woman can tell a lot of things about the way a man touches her. It's like that old song, "it's in his kiss." The hug told me so much that words would never have conveyed. Ray was pretty obvious when he talked about how much he liked me. But I'd heard that from guys so often that it no longer registered. But when Ray hugged me, it spoke volumes. It told me that I had done again what I'd been guilty of from the beginning with Ray, I had vastly underestimated him. Sure Ray wasn't rich. He wasn't a star athlete either. He was decent looking but not a standout. But I was the most precious thing in the world to him. Ray would have probably given his life for me without thinking about it. 

After that hug, my fate was sealed. There was no way I was letting him go. 

"Wow, what brought that on?" asked Ray. 

"I think a couple of people were watching us that needed to be convinced," I said. Ray looked around as he picked up my books. He never realized that the people I was talking about were Patty and Margaret, or that they were with us. 

"Ray, do you and Claire have anything planned for Friday night?" asked Patty. Her tone was honeyed and soothing, but the look in her eyes was clearly an angry one. And that anger was directed at me, not Ray.

"Not that I know of," said Ray.

"Would you like to go to a party with me?" she asked. Even as she spoke she thrust out her chest making her prominent breasts even more prominent.

"What if someone saw us together?" asked Ray innocently. "Remember, I'm supposed to be..."

"So let me get this straight..." said Patty angrily. "You'd rather continue being her FAKE boyfriend, with ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE of it ending well, than start a real relationship with me. Is that what you're saying?"

"Gosh, when you put it like that..." said Ray. "It makes me seem kind of stupid doesn't it?" Both Patty and Margaret nodded their heads. I think that on some level, they just wanted to see me not get a guy. And of course from the sinking feeling in my stomach I could see that I might. I wished with all of my heart that it wasn't this guy though. And again I had underestimated Ray. 

"But stupid or not..." he continued. "I'd have to say...YES. I'd rather be her FAKE boyfriend, than your real one."

"Fuck you!" screamed Patty. "Fuck both of you. She's only going to hurt you. And you're so stupid that you deserve it. Someday you're going to realize that Claire isn't a real woman. She's like a doll. She's beautiful to look at, but she doesn't have any real feelings. You're wasting all of your emotions and love on something that will NEVER love you back the way you deserve. She's just going to soak up all of your worship, lead you around like a fucking puppy and then when you least expect it, she'll throw you away for her own selfish ends."

"Wow, that was dramatic," said Margaret quietly, as Patty stomped away. "I'll see you two later."

Patty's outburst had caused everyone in the area to stare at us. Ray walked me to my car. I could tell that he was kind of stunned by what had just happened. I was too. I was constantly underestimating Ray. I was so used to dealing with guys with big egos. That type of guy was what I usually attracted. Their big egos gave them the confidence to go after a woman. But it also meant that they wouldn't stand for being put down or made a fool of.

"Ray, we need to talk," I said. "Let's get some coffee."

"Is this the part where you tell me that I can't hang around with you anymore?" he asked as we sat down in the crowded shop. I laughed.

"Kind of," I said. "Ray, this is the part where we start over. You don't have to meet me outside of my classes and carry my books anymore, unless you want to. We don't have go places where we'll be seen. I'll go back to blowing off my stalkers myself. And if you want to ask me out, you can take me someplace because it's someplace that you want to go with me, okay?" He nodded but I could tell he was confused. 

"So where should we go tonight?" I asked.

"Claire, we can't go out tonight," he said sadly. I was shocked. I had never been turned down before in my life. 

"Do you have to work?" I asked. "Do you have a sick friend or family member?" He shook his head to both. 

"Remember, you have that history test tomorrow. You aren't doing quite as well in that class as in some of your others and..." he said. 

"Ray how do you know that?" I asked. 

"I memorized your schedule. And I heard you and Margaret talking about it. History and math were your two weaknesses. Your math is much better now, but you need to study for history. A part of the problem is the way your brain works. I noticed it in math. You aren't the kind of student who memorizes things and regurgitates them. You need to thoroughly understand a concept to make it your own. But once you understand all of the factors, you're great. But history is mostly just learning and memorizing what happened and when it happened. So you're going to have to work at that one," he said. 

I couldn't believe that my "Fake" boyfriend cared enough about me to really look beyond my outsides. Most of the men that I had been in relationships with had never done so. Once they got used to my appearance, they usually treated me differently. Everyone had their shortcomings and I was no different. 

I sensed that Ray really wanted to spend more time with me. But he actually cared enough about me to put what he wanted aside, to make sure I did the things that would benefit me in the long run. 

That Friday, Ray took me out. He got to pick the place this time. And we didn't go to a popular place on campus. He took me to a tiny, intimate restaurant called Maria's. Everyone there knew Ray. It turned out that he had once worked there and they loved him. We had a table on their outdoor deck under the stars. It was the most romantic evening I could imagine. 

The only thing lacking about the evening was that Ray never even attempted to touch me. After that first hug, I was ready to ramp things up. But Ray, only glanced across the table at me shyly. An older, more experienced guy would have used that ambience to his advantage. 

I also got to meet my rival for Ray's affection that evening. He picked me up in a red 1992 Mustang GT. I thought it was some kind of sports car but he explained to me the differences between sports cars and muscle cars. I could tell it meant something to him although it meant nothing to me.

At the end of the evening, I was ready for what came next. Ray walked me to my door, told me goodnight and turned to leave. The man had my hormones in an uproar and wanted to simply leave. I knew he was shy. But it looked like I wouldn't even get a goodnight kiss. So I grabbed him and pulled him to me. I initiated the kiss, but he took over from there. His lips gently caressed mine. He used just the right amount of pressure to make me want more. I pulled him in and opened my lips. His arms tightened around me enveloping me in that place where I felt so safe and so loved. The next thing I knew we were tongue wrestling and my knees were weak, he held me up though. 

I was a healthy woman. And though I'd had sex many times, far more than Ray had, I was overwhelmed by that kiss. I was ready to fuck him right there on my porch. My panties were wet and I was feeling things that I had never felt before. Then through the fog of my arousal, I heard his voice; but instead of telling me that we needed to go inside to continue...

"Claire, I am so sorry," he said. "I guess it just got out of hand..."

I was so dizzy that I couldn't understand his words. He took my keys from my hand and opened my door for me. Then he practically pushed me inside my house. He closed the door from the outside and went home. 

As soon as my head cleared, I showered and thought about our date. For most of my life, I hadn't been a particularly sexual being. But Ray had clearly started something in me. The problem wasn't with him, it was me. Ray, was clearly very susceptible to my outside appearance. I'd run into a few guys like him before. 

In Ray's case, I could fix it. He was young. It seemed like the age difference between us was only five years, but those five years were almost a quarter of his life. There was also the fact that Ray, at least when it came to dealing with women, simply wasn't very aggressive. 

Although we were in college, I was going to have to take Ray to school. He taught me math. The least I could do would be to teach him about women. 

I called him. When he picked up the phone I could already tell that he was in full fledged retreat.

"Hi, Claire, I'm really sorry that I..." he began.

"Ray, shut up," I said. "I just called to tell you that I had a wonderful evening. The only thing that you need to be sorry about is that it ended a lot sooner than it should have. But WE can work on that."

Over the weekend, I didn't see Ray. He had to work at the plant on Saturday and had agreed to help a friend move on Sunday. But he called me at least a couple of times each day and I found myself looking forward to his calls but also looking forward even more to seeing him again. 

On Monday morning we met for breakfast before my first class and he walked me to class. As he turned to leave, I pulled him into a lip lock and he again reduced me to jelly. I had trouble concentrating in class. 

"Claire, I'm sorry I acted like such an idiot last week," said Patty. "I thought you were just stringing him along. I didn't realize."

"Didn't realize what?" asked Margaret. 

"She's fallen for Ray," said Patty. "That's why she had no intention of giving him up."

"It's a shame that such beauty should be wasted on a grease monkey," said the booming voice of Rudolph Anderson, from behind us. He reached into the pocket of his expensive looking leather jacket and produced not one but two beer cans. He held one in each hand and crushed them one after another against his broad forehead. "Can your little grease monkey do that?" he asked. 

"Why would he want to?" passed Margaret.

"Why would anyone want to?" asked Patty, shaking her head.

"Ray isn't a grease monkey," I said. "He's an engineer. He has a bright future ahead of him."

"But you could have done much better with me," he boomed. "But don't worry, I've found someone to fill my nights. You are no longer required. You'll regret blowing me off for that glorified mechanic."

"Rudy, how many women have you dated this year?" I asked. 

"Probably a lot more than he has," spat Rudy. 

"Exactly," I said. "Why would I want to be a tiny part of your life, when I can be all of his?"

"Do you have any idea of how much money my family has?" he asked. 




A Whore and a Thief



"I think everyone on campus does," said Patty. "It's like you keep going door to door telling us."

"Rudy, have you ever done anything on your own? Without your family's money, what have you yourself accomplished?" I asked. He was left speechless. He walked away grumbling.

My relationship with Ray moved along. It built naturally, but not nearly as quickly as I'd have liked. For the first time I felt myself wanting to move things along. I was anxious. And it wasn't sex; although sex was a part of it. I wanted to hear the actual words. So finally I asked him. 

"Ray, do you love me?" I asked. His answer shocked me. I was prepared for anything except what he told me. 

"I want to," he'd said. "But I don't know. The math isn't there yet." I was both speechless and curious.

"What do you mean the math isn't there?" I asked. 

"Love is an equation," he said. 

"Wait, I've got this," I smiled. I grabbed a napkin and wrote "U + me = heart."

He smiled and said, "Not quite. It's more like this." He drew a heart just as I had, but his was at the beginning of his equation. He wrote Heart = E X T.

"Love equals exposure multiplied by time," he said. "Real, true love takes time. I was probably in love with you the first time I saw you. I thought that I was. But that was probably just lust or infatuation. But Claire, almost every man who sees you feels that. Lately I've gotten to know you and my feelings have deepened. I'm going to be really hurt when you dump me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.

"Claire, we both know how it started," he said. "You defended me against that big guy Rudy. So I had to hang around with you to prove him wrong. Then you noticed that having me around, kept other guys from hitting on you. But eventually this will end and you'll end up with Rudy or someone like him."

"Ray, you haven't been my fake boyfriend for a long time," I spat. "Don't you feel anything when we kiss? I was wondering why you haven't been putting any moves on me. Ray, Honey, you need to get with the program. I want the two of us to end up together, but you have to get in the game. A woman likes to know that her man wants her. I'm not a slut. We are probably not going to have sex the first time you try me. But I am expecting you to try. And for the record, you stick to your equations, but I'm pretty sure that I do love you."

He looked shocked. I could tell that he was having trouble processing what I had just told him. His face started to turn red and his eyes got huge. "Ray, Honey you need to breathe," I said. 

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, most human beings need to breathe," I said.

"I meant the other part," he said. I just nodded. He surprised me again then.

"Why?" he asked. And I could tell he was serious. "I'm ordinary ... and you're ... you!"

I spent most of that day laughing about the conversation. When I told Patty and Margaret about it, they didn't understand it. "So did he tell you that he loves you too?" passed Margaret. 

"Nope," I said. "But I know he does. And I'm looking forward to hearing it. It's going to be really special." 

"Why?" asked Patty. "You hear that from guys just walking down the hall."

"Because Ray has never said it to any woman, other than his mother. And coming from him, it really means something. And he's never going to say it to any other woman if I have my way," I said. 

Sex with Ray, was like a rocket. It started out really low. The first time wasn't really good at all. He was too nervous. I took it as a compliment. I knew Ray's history with women. All two of them. I knew about his disastrous prom date. And his summer fling with the cheerleader, who taught him how to really please a woman. Their summer fling could have ended up differently but the woman did something extremely stupid. Ray had been falling for her until she made a really dumb move. 

She had been teaching Ray about sex and the two of them had been dating. But she had told all of her friends, not only how terrible he'd been at sex in the beginning, but how good he'd become. Ray found out when another member of the cheer squad had asked him for a sample of his oral skills. He asked her how she knew about them and was heartbroken when she told him. He had been the subject of a lot of laughter among the cheerleaders at first. It made him remember several incidents that he had never understood during his first years at college. 

Ray realized then that all or most of the things he considered private between himself and his cheerleader girlfriend hadn't been. He also found out that while he had considered their relationship exclusive, she hadn't. Although they had never proclaimed their love for each other, she had considered him more of a boy toy than a serious boyfriend. Since then Ray had barely dated and hadn't had any serious relationships. 

So our first time while not stellar was promising. The second time wasn't bad. The third time was decent. The forth was very good, and the fifth time was the best sex I had ever experienced. Ray quickly learned everything I liked, stored it away and used it against me. 

Shortly before he graduated, I realized that Ray owned my body as well as my heart. He took great pleasure in taking me almost ... to an orgasm and leaving me hanging. He sometimes had me beg him to let me cum. So when it happened I never expected it. Ray was doing it to me. He had started out with very slow and very gentle strokes. But he ramped up, pumping me harder and faster. I was trying so hard to hold it off, but it was building. Then he grabbed my hands and he pinned them to the pillow with one hand. He slowly pulled out. And tapped my sensitive labia with the head of his dick. 

He got that same silly little smile that told me he enjoyed what he was doing. Every gentle little tap had me wiggling and trying to move into a position where he would tap my clit. But he knew what I was doing and the look on his face was purely evil. 

"Do you want to cum?" he asked. I nodded my head quickly and smiled at him.

"How am I going to do it?" he asked rhetorically.

"Am I going to pound you like a drum?" he pondered. I nodded quickly. 

"Unh huh!" I said.

"Nah!" he said. "We did that last time."

"And it was really good, Honey!" I said. He gave me a couple of more quick taps. I was grinding my hips trying to get them closer to the object of my desire.

"Should I lick your tight little pussy?" he asked.

"Yes sir, do that ... please do that!" I screamed. 

"Nope," he said. "We're going to do something different." He got the weirdest look on his face.

"Raymond Bernard Gunn, you are not sticking that thing up my ass again!" I shrieked. He gave me a couple of more little taps that were so close to my clit that they sent sparks shooting through me. 

"Okay, you can do that if you want to," I whined.

"Nah we're doing something different," he leered. He leaned over and let the head of his dick just barely penetrate me. Then he pushed it in a few inches keeping me on the brink. Then he pulled out again.

"Claire, I can make you cum without even touching you," he said. I was skeptical. 

"What?" I said.

He leaned over me and let my hands go. I was so shocked that I didn't move them. "Claire, I love you," he said very seriously. I hadn't expect it. I had longed to hear him say it and sparks shot through me. It was incredible. It was a once in a lifetime thing. It was like cumming with my entire body. It felt like being in the middle of a huge fireworks display. I kept cumming over and over again. 

When it was over and we lay there wrapped in each other's arms, I knew that I loved him more than I had ever loved any other person in my life. And more than I would ever love anyone else. And then he said the words that almost ended our relationship the first time. 

As we lay there warm and tingling, he looked in my eyes. "Claire, I want us to get married and be together forever," he said. I just nodded. 

"I want us to have babies and spoil them and then spoil our grandkids," he said. And my world came crashing down. I got out of bed and threw my clothes on. It was my house and I left anyway. 

"Let yourself out, Ray," I have an appointment I forgot about." He just sat there looking puzzled.

"What kind of appointment would you have on a Sunday morning?" he asked.

I hid in my neighbor's back yard until he left. Then I went back inside and cried my eyes out. Ray called me fourteen times on Sunday. I stayed home from school for three days. I got Patty to get my assignments for me and she told my professors that I had the flu. 

"I hate lying to him, Claire," she said. "You know he's not going to go away. You need to tell him something." 

"Tell him that I don't love him. Tell him that I never did. He's all yours, Patty," I said. She laughed at me. 

"Look, I don't know what he did to you, but was it really bad enough for you to let him beat himself up like that? He looks like hell. Why don't you just talk to him? You at least owe the guy an explanation," she said.

"I'll call him tomorrow," I said. 

"Why wait," she said. "He slept on your fucking porch all night."

I went outside and there he was. "Ray, why didn't you at least sleep in your car, Honey. It's cold out here. You could have..." I began and I started crying again. And I started hitting him. "You're so stupid, Ray," I screamed. "I'd have died if anything happened to you."

"I love you Claire," he said and I started crying all over again. 

"Ray you need to be with someone who loves you, that you can marry and have all of those kids with," I said. "But that isn't me."

His face fell. "I thought you loved me," he said. 

"I do stupid. More than anything," I sobbed. "Ray, I would die for you."

"So what's the problem, Honey?" he asked. I pulled him down and sat in his lap. He wrapped his arms around me. We had forgotten that Patty was there. 

"Ray, I've dated a lot of men. I've had a bunch of relationships. And I've been engaged twice..." I began.

"So I'm engagement number three," he smiled. "The third time's the charm. Everyone knows that. And nothing that happened before we got together matters."

"Let me finish," I said. 

"Ray I kissed a lot of frogs. Most of those guys were just assholes. But the two that I was going to marry were really nice guys. I loved them both. Not nearly as much as I love you, but I did love them. And they loved me. After the second time I decided never to get involved with a man again. And until you busted your way into my heart, I kept that promise. I can handle assholes easily enough. But the nice guys..." I paused.

"Ray the nice guys are like you. They want all of the good things. They want to marry me and all of that," I said.

"I want that too," he said. "I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. Don't you want to marry me?"

"Unh huh!" I said quickly. "I want that more than anything. But Ray, I can't have kids. There's something broken inside of me. I've known since my mom took me to the doctor's office in my teens. I was born this way. Some of my parts just never developed. There's nothing they can do about it. And all of the nice guys want a family. There is nothing in my power that I wouldn't give you Ray, but I can't give you children. You need to find someone who can." I started crying again because I knew that just like the others before him. He'd think about it and struggle with it, but in the end, he'd move on.

"I feel so sorry for you," he said. 

"I know, Ray," I said. "That's why I want to be a teacher."

"No, Honey," he said. "I feel sorry for you because I was planning on us having two kids. That way there would be three people loving me. But without them, that means you'll have to love me three times as much as you do now. Can you handle that?" 

"Yes," I sobbed.

We were married three months later.

* * * * * *

Sarah

"I really don't remember much about the day that it all happened. It's almost as if my brain has blurred or blocked out the details to protect me," I told the little man in glasses. 

"Sarah, you need to get this all out," he said. "I'm going to give you a drug to lower your inhibitions and make it easier for you to remember. Maybe getting this out will help you sleep without the nightmares. The Bureau can give you a new life and a new identity. But it's not worth anything to you or your kids if you're falling apart. We need you sharp. One or two little mistakes could cost you everything." He gently gave me an injection and then sat down to wait for the drug to take effect. Then he listened to me talk. He recorded the session and also took notes.

"As I think about it now, I should have known. My parents warned me about him. Shit, everyone warned me about him. They all said the same things. They all said the exact same God damned things. 

"He won't amount to much," they said. "He's too lazy. He's afraid to get his hands dirty. He's just not the kind of guy to dig in and get his work done. You need to find yourself another man."

But I knew better. I knew better than everyone. I knew that Joey would change for me. He'd grow up and get a job. He's become a good family guy and then we'd get married and have everything I dreamed of. 

Right after high school, seven months after my eighteenth birthday, my parents shipped me off to the state college, two hundred miles away. They figured that while I was developing the skills to be successful at something or other, Joey would meet another girl and move on. After all he was supposed to be a player anyway. The rumors around town were that he had several other girls. But I didn't believe the rumors. 

My parents became the enemy for trying to ruin my life. But by trying to protect me, they screwed up. Sending me away was the worst thing they could have done. 

The college was barely over a three hour drive from our small Indiana town. Joey drove up there the first weekend that I was away and claimed my cherry. Before Halloween, I was out of school and back home. There was no way that I could handle college and the pregnancy alone and away from home. My mother was extremely disappointed. My father never spoke to me again. 

He did speak to Joey's father and the two of them convinced Joey that we needed to get married. I was overjoyed. Joey ... not so much. My dad got him a job at the plant as an apprentice. It took him less than a month to get fired. They caught him sleeping in the plant at least three times before they canned him. 

Then his dad got him a job working construction. He was fired from that the very first day. His dad screamed at him, asking him what he intended to do then. 

"You have a wife and a baby on the way," he screamed. "How are you going to support them?"

We ended up moving into a small apartment over his parent's garage. I spent many nights in that garage alone, while Joey went out with his friends. After our daughter Hannah was born, Joey decided that we should move out of state. He had some friends who were involved in a very lucrative business. I packed up the baby and we drove away from our home town. 

Once we settled in California, I was isolated from the beginning. I had no friends there and I didn't know anyone. It seemed pretty different from the small town that we had come from. Everyone seemed unfriendly.

Joey was gone for long periods of time. Sometimes I didn't see him for days. I asked him what he was doing and his only reply was always the same. "I'm working," he always said. 

He started buying a lot of flashy clothes and he bought a nice car. He didn't spend any money on his daughter or me, but we were warm and we had plenty of food to eat. I did notice that Joey had plenty of money, so I didn't complain. 

Our new life was strange. Joey was often not home for longer and longer periods of time. Most of the time when he did come home, he just fucked me, then we argued and he left again. 

Whenever I mentioned going home or suggested that maybe we should get a divorce, Joey would straighten up for a while. I often asked him what he did for a living and he always said the same thing. "I work," he said. 

Hannah was about five years old the first time the police came to the house. One of the officers explained that they had waited for me to take her to school before they raided the house. They were very kind to me. They searched everything but they didn't tear the place apart while doing it. They suggested that I should go back home. 

When Joey finally showed up three days later, we argued and I tried to force him to tell me what was going on. He had gotten involved with some very bad people and swore he would quit. He begged me not to leave him and I really had no choice. I loved him was one reason that I didn't leave. And I was pregnant again for another. 

Joey left again the next morning. I hadn't told him that we were expecting again, and I wasn't showing yet. But more and more, I knew that we needed to go home. California was no place for two kids from a small town. 

That afternoon, I had just put Hannah down for her nap, when someone knocked at our door. I went to the door to find a woman standing there. She wasn't much older than me and she looked vaguely familiar. 

"Is Joey here?" she asked. Her eyes were wild and she had a frantic expression on her face. She kept looking around her as if she was expecting something. "I can't take it anymore. I'm going home. Tell him that if he wants to see his son, he has to come home. You should come home too, Sarah. They killed Marty!"

"Wait, who are you?" I asked. 

She looked at me as if I had just fallen off of the stupid truck.

"Sarah, I'm Karen Stevens. We both grew up in Muncie," she said. "You used to hang out with my cousin Jill Monroe. Jill and two of her friends, Kelly and Sabrina were on that bowling team, the Angels. They were sponsored by Charlie's Bar." 

"Of course," I said. "Everyone has heard of Charlie's Ang..."

"Forget about that," she said. "We have to get out of here."

"But what do you have to do with my husband, Joey?" I asked. 

"What? He married you too?" she asked in surprise. "He told me that he had just met you out here and the two of you got drunk and ended up in bed and you got pregnant by mistake. Joey and I have been married since before you were old enough to marry him. We came out here together."

"But we came out here together too!" I said. 

She looked around again. "Sarah, Joey is home with me every night. How could the two of you be..." Before she even finished the sentence she ducked inside, of the house. She slid past me desperately as a car rolled down the street. I noticed two angry looking men inside. They looked at me as they drove by. I didn't recognize either of them. They didn't seem to recognize me either. They didn't even slow down but it was clear they were looking for someone or something. 

"Tell Joey, he can stay here," she said as soon as the car was out of sight. "I hope the bastard is happy with you. He never seemed to be with me. He's all yours Sarah. I'm going home to my family."

She slipped by me and quickly vanished down the street. She left me with more questions than answers and a growing sense of both danger and anger at my supposed husband. 

When Joey returned later that evening, I had a lot of questions for him. He came into the house looking over his shoulder and shutting all of the blinds.

"Joey, maybe we should talk about Karen," I said. "Which one of us are you married to?" 

"I married Karen, because I thought I loved her," he spat. "I married you because I was forced to." My heart was hammering in my chest. The man I loved ... and left everything I knew for, was not the man I thought he was. 

"I'm going home and I'm taking your daughter with me," I threatened. "And you'll never see the baby I'm carrying now." I wanted to hurt him badly.




A Whore and a Thief



"You do that," he said. "I have bigger problems than some small town slut and her brats. Suddenly his eyes took on a look of terror. 

"Shit, they must've followed me here," he said. "Wait, they couldn't have. I was too careful. Did you say you spoke to Karen? Did she come here?" I ignored him. I was too hurt by the fact that he was willing to just let me and our children walk away without even the ghost of a fight. 

He came across the room and slapped the shit out of me. Joey and I had argued before. And he had hit me a couple of time but never like this. My head was ringing. He put his face really close to mine and looked into my eyes.

"Did Karen come here?" he screamed. I just nodded dumbly.

"Shit, they know which house it is," he spat. "That bitch has killed us. What the fuck are they waiting for? There's two of them and only one of me."

Then we heard the sound of another car pull up in front of the house. More than one door slammed and Joey turned a whiter shade of pale in front of me. "Take your fucking brat and hide in the basement," he spat. "Don't come out unless you hear me tell you it's okay." I looked at him again. "Go Bitch," he sneered at me turning towards the door. 

At that second Joey pulled out two guns and aimed them. One pointed towards the door. The other was pointed towards the living room windows. 

I ran into my sleeping daughter's bedroom and picked her up. I moved as silently as I could. I went down into the basement of our small house. There was a nearly hidden door behind the furnace. It was barely a closet. It was supposed to be where we kept the large filters for the furnace and stored other things used for the maintenance of the house and heating system. I neatly stacked the filters and boxes on a table next to the door. Then I removed the light bulb that illuminated the basement. That way if anyone got past Joey, they might not be able to see the door. The door wouldn't be easy to see under normal circumstances since it was hidden behind the furnace. In the darkness it would be virtually invisible.

I took the shelves out of the closet, just as the first shot rang out. I couldn't tell if Joey was firing or the other guys. I just prayed that one of our neighbors would call the police and that they'd arrive quickly. I pushed Hannah into the closet and got inside of it myself. I pulled the table, with all of the stacked filters on it in front of the door. That way if anyone did happen to notice the door, hopefully seeing the table in front of it would make them think that nothing was inside of it. 

More and more shots rang out. There was a pitched battle going on up there. I heard men screaming and guns firing. Then I heard the sound of heavy feet stomping around in our living room. Since it sounded like more than one person, I was sure that it wasn't Joey. 

Fear clutched my heart. I heard voices screaming and Joey, who sounded as if he was in pain, answering. That told me that he was still alive, but it was no comfort to me. Joey had lied to me the whole time that we were together. Our entire marriage had been a sham. I was just coming to terms with the fact that everyone who'd warned me against him had been right. He didn't care about me or our daughter. He had just been playing me for a fool all along. 

The worst though, and I know that all things considered, it was a minor point, was when he called me a slut. He'd called me, the mother of his children, a small town slut. I wasn't a slut. I was twenty four years old with a five year old daughter. Joey was the only man I had ever slept with and he had married me. How the hell was I a slut. 

Unfortunately, while I was shivering in the darkness, lamenting my nice girl versus slut status, the events in my home were occurring at a rapid pace. 

I heard several heavy blows and resulting groans from Joey and then a very fast slick sound. It sounded like a knife or a sword hitting flesh. Hannah was fully awake and I clamped my hand over her mouth. "Don't cry, baby," I told her. "Everything will be fine. But we can't let the bad men know that we're here. We're playing a game. We're playing hide and seek, okay?" Her eyes were huge and her fear was obvious. But she nodded.

I heard what sounded like liquid hitting the tiles of my kitchen floor. And a groan. "Oh shit that's nasty," laughed a very deep voiced man. 

"They'll think twice before fucking with us again," said a man in heavily accented English. "Search everything. Tear this fucking shithole apart." If I thought I had been afraid before, my terror doubled. I heard men running through my house knocking things over and tearing it up. I heard feet on the stairs leading down into the basement. "Fuck, there's no lights down here," said a man only inches away from the furnace. At that moment I wished I had a weapon of some sort. I needed something to fight for our lives. 

Then I remembered that Joey had a gun and it hadn't done him any good. They were probably still torturing him. Or maybe he had told them where we were and that was the reason that they were in the basement. I heard the sounds of the men banging about in my basement. I heard them look inside of my washer and dryer and then trying to tear the covers off of the furnace. 

At that moment I went into mama bear mode. I got angry. My breathing deepened and became more rapid as I prepared to fight for my daughter. I didn't care what happened to me. But I would protect Hannah with my last breath. I knew that the only thing I had on my side was surprise. So I got ready to attack whoever opened that door with everything I had. 

The man or men banging on the furnace were so close that I was sure they had to have noticed the door. Then things got quiet. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I think I even stopped breathing for a second.

"Is that a door?" I heard one of them say. 

"I can't see shit down here," another guy answered. "With all of that fucking money they got for the drugs, you'd think he'd have paid the fucking light bill."

"This ain't his house, Dummy," said a third man. "Joey has two or three little places like this all over town. He has at least four women who think they're married to him. From what I understand, he might be married to all of them. Talk about a bunch of dumb bitches."

"Yeah, but they're all pretty cute too," said the first voice. "The one we fucked this afternoon was lively."

"She was at first," said the second voice. 

"Try that door and let's get the fuck out of here," said one of them. But before anyone did anything, I heard it. They clearly heard it too. The mournful wailing of a siren getting closer by the second. 

"Fuck," screamed the guys almost as one. And then I heard the sound of them running up my stairs. 

Everything got quiet for a few moments. I could still hear them moving around outside. And a couple of them came back inside. They were trying to be quiet, but they weren't fooling me. Maybe they were, I thought. I definitely wasn't as smart as I'd always believed that I was. Joey had made a fool of me for years. 

I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been. I had actually believed that he loved me. I had taken his words over what everyone else had tried to tell me and ruined my life. 

As much as I hated to admit it, my parents had been right about him. And now I found myself in more trouble than I could believe and I truly had no idea what was going on, or why these men wanted to hurt me. I hope that the reason that things had calmed down was because Joey had given them whatever it was that they wanted.

As I hid there, in that tiny closet, shivering with fear, I imagined what I would do when I got out of there...IF I got out of there. 

I heard footsteps moving down the stairs. This time they weren't making nearly as much noise as they had before, but even so I could still hear them. But they had also learned from their earlier mistake. I saw glints of light from under the door. They had obviously brought a flashlight with them this time. 

Again the footsteps got closer and closer to the door. I was sure that one of the men who had been there before had just grabbed a flashlight and come back to satisfy his curiosity about what was in the closet.

I heard the handle of the door start to turn and I attacked. I kicked the door open as hard as I could slamming it into the man who tried to open it. I heard him groan and fall to the floor. I grabbed my daughter's hand and ran for the stairs. But a yell from the man on the floor froze me in my tracks. 

"FBI, freeze!" he yelled.

I turned and walked over to him. I waited for him to get to his feet and threw myself into his arms sobbing loudly. 

"What took you so long?" I cried. Within seconds, the commotion had brought several other agents and officers. They all wanted to know what had happened, and what I knew. 

"You're safe ma'am," said the cop who'd been here a few days before. "You need to cooperate with the FBI and the DEA so they can get you some sort of protection."

"I don't need any protection," I said. "I'm going home. This whole nightmare is over for me." 

"Sarah, you really have no idea what's going in here do you?" asked the guy I had knocked down.

"Not really," I said. "Joey never told me what kind of job he had. The only idea I had that something was wrong was when the police came by a couple of days ago. And then Karen came by, and I found out that Joey had ... had been lying to me and..." My voice broke up then and I started crying. 

Suddenly I had a thought. "Joey, he caused all of this. He ruined my life. Where is he? Did he go off with those men? Tell that asshole that I'm leaving him. I'm going home." 

"Sarah, we can't tell Joey anything?" said a female agent. 

"That bastard," I said. "He left with them didn't he? Fuck him. I'm leaving him. I'm going home."

"Sarah, you really don't understand the game you're in do you?" said the cop.

"Maybe we should take her upstairs as kind of a wakeup call," said one of the agents. 

"Uh, let's leave the little girl here though," said another. The female agent stayed in the basement with Hannah as the police officer and the other two FBI agents went upstairs with me. 

My house was a mess. They had torn holes in the walls. They had destroyed every piece of furniture and every appliance. Someone had thrown the microwave through the TV screen. The biggest of the agents pushed his way through a couple of men in white coats that were looking at something on the floor. 

He grabbed my hand and pulled me over so I could see it too. I looked down and immediately vomited the contents of my digestive tract. I dropped to my knees unable to breathe. I thought for a second that I was dreaming but as I opened my eyes I peeked back and it was still there.

"It" was Joey. Or what was left of him. They had taken him alive. It looked as if they had beaten any resistance out of him. Both of his arms were clearly broken. His knees were both bent at an angle that wasn't humanly possible. I wanted to vomit, but nothing would come out.

"I just need you to know what kind of people you're dealing with and why you can't go home," said the DEA man. "Your friend Karen...they searched Joey's other house, the one that she lived in..." He paused then for a second.

"But Karen was going ho..." I began.

"Karen wasn't quick enough," he spat. "It looked like they gang raped her before they put a bullet in her head. And Sarah, these guys aren't dumb. They know that Joey for the most part didn't tell any of his women anything. They killed Karen and mutilated Joey's body just like they did the rest of the men that Joey worked with for the same reason. There's a drug war going on in the streets. They're all fighting over territory. So they needed to set an example of what happens to anyone to tries to move into this area."

"They killed everyone connected to Joey and his friends. They killed the dealers, the drivers, the lab workers, and all of their wives and kids as well. These people are not fucking around. We don't know whether they know that you were here or not. They've already killed the rest of Joey's uh...women and the rest of his kids. But we can't take any chances. If you go home, and they do happen to know that you're alive, they'll kill you and your family too. Your best bet is for you and your daughter to go into witness protection. 

Two days later, my long dishwater blond hair was cut in a short curly dark brown do. Hannah's hair was just like mine and we had different names. We along with a group of seven plain clothes US Marshalls were driving a Winnebago towards our new home and identities. The Agents themselves had a list of possible homes in several different states and would let our route dictate which one we settled in. 

Despite the overwhelming number of agents with us and the fact that the men who killed Joey had been caught the day after they destroyed my house, I was afraid. The agents and the Marshalls had all been very kind and very reassuring. They were sure that the remaining members of the drug gang would be caught and were sure that they had no idea that Hannah and I existed. I had to stop calling her Hannah. Her name is Miley. Her last name, like mine is Cyprus, like the trees. She had chosen her own name and I let her have it. But I had already warned her that if I caught her twerking, I was going to beat her ass so badly that she wouldn't be able to ever shake it again. 

I was still confused and the agents told me that I was in a kind of shock. It would take months for me to really come to terms with what had happened to me. Perhaps I'd come out of it a stronger person. Perhaps I'd come out of it a basket case. The same could be said for Ha ... Miley. Maybe the shock of the experience could even transfer through me and affect the child I was carrying. Only time would tell. 

* * * * * *

Claire

Ray and I got married and we both got great jobs. Actually I got a great job. Ray was simply moved from the internship he had during his last two years of college, to the engineering staff. He moved up in the company the way a weed grows when left unattended. And if I had ever dreamed of throwing the fact that I had a Master's degree in education, while he only had his Bachelor's around, the difference in our salaries completely shut me up. 

We both made good money but truthfully, Ray's salary and perks were better. But none of that mattered. As a matter of fact, nothing mattered. We loved each other with a passion that was scary. I was living my dream life, with the man of my dreams.  

Our relationship had grown and evolved since our college days. Ray was no longer that shy little boy that I thought I needed to teach. He still loved me and spoiled me much more than I deserved, but he was no longer afraid to put me in my place if I started to get full of myself. 

Even years after we married, the passion on our relationship was still there. We were very lucky because more than half of the couples we knew from college had either broken up before they graduated or had gotten divorced. Ray and I seemed to fall more deeply in love every year that passed. 

One of my favorite feelings was after a night of sex, to wake up and find my husband staring dreamily at me. Sometimes he still just gazed at me, trying to memorize every feature of my face the way he'd done when we first got together. 

"What are you looking at?" I'd ask. 

"The most beautiful woman in the world," he'd reply.

"I'm not sure my husband would be okay with you staring at me," I'd joke. 

"I'm your husband," he'd say very seriously. It was as if he still didn't believe it. "I must've done something really good in a past life to deserve you."

I felt the exact same way. "Well you're not going to have me for much longer of you don't feed me," I'd tell him. "I uhm ... had a really intense workout last night."

"That was amazing," he'd say. 

"Ray, we've been married for a long time," I told him once. "Are you bored with me yet?" He looked at me as if I was crazy. 

"How could I ev..." he began.

"Behind every beautiful woman, is a man who's tired of fucking her," I quipped.

He laughed. "It's a good thing that I'm beside you then, isn't it?" I kissed him and we shared our morning breath. 

"But seriously Claire, I feel so lucky to have you. I'm still in the shocked and awed part of our relationship. And as selfish as it sounds, I think we're lucky that we didn't have kids. And I say that for lot of reasons. Number one, over the years I haven't had to share you with anyone. That keeps us closer. I feel like every year we get closer and more in love cause there are only the two of us. Number two we can do anything we want, from last minute weekend trips and getaways to long vacations on the spur of the moment. We both have tons of vacation time squirreled away, so we can do anything or go anywhere we want. And of course the best reason in the world..." He got a really nasty expression on his face.

"You're going to talk about how since it's only us living here, you can make me do all of those nasty things whenever you want, aren't you?" I laughed.

"I wasn't going to," he said. "But it's true. I was going to talk about how all of my friends are constantly complaining about how uhm ... loose their wives got after they had kids." His fingers trailed down my stomach and settled between my legs. He didn't have to do anything. Just the feeling of his fingers near it got my pussy wet. 

"This thing is still as tight as it was when we first met," he said rubbing it lightly. I couldn't help it, I moaned. The sound of my voice was like a switch for Ray. He immediately reacted by stroking his fingers through my pussy lips and moving on top of me. 

The house that we'd bought was in a very nice neighborhood and it was only two miles away from the school I taught at. Our best friends were the couple next door. Betty Cooper and her husband Archie. Betty was a blond like me. She showed me some pictures of herself when she was twenty years younger and sixty pounds lighter. She'd been pretty. Her husband Archie shared her girth but not her boobs although his man boobs were bigger than mine were. Archie was a redhead when he was younger but now he was bald. Their kids had long since grown up and left the nest.

Ray had to drive for almost an hour to get to the plant, but the only time he complained about it was in the winter. During the summer he drove his Mustang and loved every second of the drive. The years, as I've said had been good to us. And I had no regrets. Before I knew it we had been married for thirteen years and I was turning forty. Ray swore that I looked exactly the same as I did the first day he laid eyes on me. I take that with a grain of salt because I know that Ray looks at me through love colored glasses. 

Three years ago, when we went to our ten year reunion at college, we ran into a lot of people we'd known back then. Many of them had been married and divorced more than once or were married to someone they hadn't known during our time in college. Most were shocked that Ray and I were still together. One of the people commented on our old classmate Rudy's statement that I'd be bored with Ray in a week. Unfortunately Rudy didn't attend the reunion to comment. 

A lot of people also commented on how well Ray had aged. He'd grown from an awkward but sweet, college boy to a very confident and very handsome man. When we first got together, it might have seemed like Ray was the luckiest guy on earth. But thirteen years later, it was clear that we had both hit the lottery in terms of spouses. 

I also loved my job. I had resisted going after a PHD and becoming a college professor because teaching high school was so much more rewarding. My maternal instincts got a workout every year as I herded awkward freshmen towards adulthood. 




A Whore and a Thief



It was like having new kids every four years. Actually, it wasn't like that, it WAS that. But at any rate, I loved my job and I was very good at it. I was used to running several committees to help the school or particular groups of students achieve goals. 

So when our Principal, Mr. Woodman came to me with a request, I wasn't totally surprised. Mr. Woodman was a brilliant administrator, but his personal skills were not the best. His assistant, Mr. Kotter, seemed to only be interested in a certain group of at-risk kids who attended the school; it looked as if it was up to me.

An extremely rich donor, Marcus Ambrose, wanted to give the school a lot of money. He wanted to tour the school and get to know it over the course of a few days so he could figure out how much money to give and what the money should be used for.

He sounded like a guy with his head on straight. He also sounded as if he knew how the game worked. Nine times out of ten, if a rich donor gave money to a school. It was funneled through the state education budget. Some of the money would be stolen immediately. I guess skimmed is what they actually call it. Some of the remaining money would be ear marked for something the governor or the school board felt was important. Some went to other schools or other projects. Usually ten percent of the donation or less actually went to what it was supposed to go for. 

So this guy decided that whatever he wanted to spend the money on, whether it was new gym equipment or whatever ... he was going to purchase it for the school and have it installed himself. That way he could cut out the middle man and put his money or his gift in the hands of the kids, like he intended.

When the guy showed up for our first meeting, I swear there was something weird going on. First off, although I had never met him before, there was something familiar about him, but I couldn't figure out what it was. 

He was a huge good looking guy in an impressive suit. He arrived in a chauffeur driven limo and had a couple of body guards and an assistant with him. 

The body guards were even bigger than he was and the assistant was a tiny Asian woman who was extremely beautiful. She wore clothes that even with Ray's salary and mine, I couldn't even dream of. 

I showed him the office and introduced him to Mr. Woodman first. When Woodman started in on the list of things we needed, Ambrose cut him off with one raised hand. After that Woodman just went back into his office leaving Ambrose and his staff to me. 

I started out by showing him the office and pointed out our lack of updated technical office equipment. Then I went to the teacher's lounge and showed him how outdated our computers were. Following that I began the process of showing him around the school. 

He decided that he wanted to breeze through and take a look at everything briefly the first day. He would then spend part of his evening going over the notes that his assistant would make and decide what he'd want to spend more time with the next day. 

Halfway through the day, we stopped for lunch. We ate lunch in the teacher's lounge. Ambrose had the lunch catered. It was probably the best food that I had ever eaten. It was strange that he seemed to have the lunch for the two of us and his staff only. When Woodman showed up, he ignored him. 

After Woodman left he spoke more candidly. "He's a strange little man," he said of Woodman. "Would you like his job?" 

"Uh, no," I said quickly. "I like teaching. I like working with my students."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Okay," he said as if my answer bothered him.

"You're a really beautiful woman Mrs. Gunn," he said. I felt butterflies in my stomach. I blushed at his compliment as I had noticed a few lines and wrinkles in my face that weren't there the previous year. But then too, I had recently turned forty, so a compliment from someone like Ambrose turned my head. 

It could have been the fact that most of my female high school students had bigger boobs and curvier backsides than I did. I mean, what the hell are they putting in the kids' cereal these days? It just seemed like every sixteen year old was built like a stripper. But hearing the praise and flattery from a rich, handsome, globe-trotting playboy like Ambrose who was all over the tabloids, meant something to me. 

This was a guy who dated models and actresses and he thought that I was pretty. It was a real blast to my forty year old ego. So much of a blast in fact that it sent tingles through me. For the rest of the afternoon we both worked on our agendas. I pointed out things worth noticing around the school. And Ambrose mentioned, every so often something that he liked about me. He also asked me questions about my life. The questions got more and more personal, but he asked them in a way that didn't seem like he was invading my privacy. 

At the end of the day, he invited Ray and I to have dinner with him the following night after our business was concluded. When he mentioned the restaurant, one that was extremely difficult to get into, I accepted for Ray and myself. I didn't see a problem. Ray would usually do anything I asked of him. 

When I got home that evening, I told Ray all about it. Strangely, he seemed to be less than enthusiastic about it. In fact he had a sudden urge to go out and wash his car. I spent a lot of the evening telling Betty about my day, while Ray impressed Archie yet again with his car mods. When I checked on them, Ray was updating his tail lights. He was installing a set of Gen 5 tail lights that he'd gotten from American Muscle. 

What I should have noticed was that unlike every other modification that he'd done on the car, Ray didn't want to talk to me about this one. I had hoped that he would, so I could bring up the dinner the following evening. I went back out to the garage at ten p.m. And Ray was still at it. He was stringing wires and doing whatever else he had to do. For once he barely looked at me. God I wish that I'd been smart enough to notice that then.

"Aren't you coming to bed, Honey?" I asked. 

"You go ahead," he said flatly. "I don't want to crowd you guys." 

At the time, I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but I was getting angry. He had virtually ignored me the whole evening for that fucking car. I'd be willing to bet that Ambrose wasn't the kind of man to put an object in front of his woman."

"Since you'd rather spend all of your time with this fucking car, why don't you sleep with it too?" I spat. I stomped off and left him in the garage. 

I heard him come in about an hour later and I knew what would happen. He'd come up the stairs and take a shower and then he would apologize and we'd have make up sex.

I did hear him coming up the stairs. He must've gotten really dirty because he chose to shower in the hallway bathroom instead of the one attached to our room. I knew that Ray would be coming into our room at any moment to apologize. I decided to pretend to be asleep. 

I waited, and I waited and I waited and I waited. Ray never came to bed. I was even more upset then. But my anger and confusion reached their peak the following morning, when I discovered that Ray had gone to work before I even awakened. 

That put me totally off of my game. Ray and I rarely ever had disagreements. We loved each other so much that we compromised on everything. But Ray was just being an asshole. 

As I dressed, I put on a dress that was a bit tighter than what I would normally wear to work. I never needed to tempt or to tease the men to get a reaction out of them. Mr. Woodman was on pins and needles; he was waiting for me in the teachers' lounge when I got there. 

"I spoke to Mr. Ambrose after you left yesterday," he said nervously. "Do you have any idea how much money he's going to give us?" 

"Not really," I said. "We didn't talk about money."

"Well do whatever you have to do to keep him happy," he said. A few moments later Ambrose and his crew arrived in the same limo they'd driven the previous day." 

Ambrose had clearly noticed my dress. He told me several times how nice I looked. His compliments ramped up during the day. Towards the end of the day he was telling me how sexy he thought I was. 

He also told me how excited he was to be having dinner with me and Ray that evening. He seemed almost disappointed when I explained to him that Ray was busy and probably wouldn't be there. 

He continued to talk about Ray all afternoon, even telling me that he was going to drive one of his cars for Ray to look over.

At the first chance I got, I called Ray at work and begged him to come to the dinner. I explained how important the money we might get from Ambrose was. And I also told him that after the dinner Ambrose would be gone and we would probably never see him again. 

"Pleeeeeeeeease, Honey," I begged. I was being unfair. Ray never refused me anything, but I needed this one. As usual, though I could tell he didn't want to, he agreed to do it. 

When Ray got home, he didn't even look at me. I reached out to hug him and he pulled away from me. I should have cancelled the evening then. But I was too happy at having my way. Ray went up to change. He put on a nice suit and came down to join me. We were on our way to the restaurant right on time, but I was too stupid to realize that something was off. 

We pulled up in the restaurant's parking lot. As usual all of the attendants went gaga over Ray's Mustang. You could tell that they were hoping he'd use the valet service. That is until a black Lamborghini pulled up next to us. Ambrose got out and flung the keys over his shoulder in the general direction of one of the parking guys. 

"Hey, you must be Ray," he said. "Nice car. So you're a car guy huh? I am too kind of. Hey, you wanna race? Just for fun of course." 

"Uh that's a Lamborghini Diablo," said Ray.

"We're racing for fun," said Ambrose. "Tell you what, if you win, you can have it. If I win, you listen to a proposal I have for you. You don't have to agree. All you have to do is listen."

"Where are we supposed to race?" asked Ray. 

"Right down there on that street," said Ambrose. 

"What about the police?" asked Ray. 

"I'll handle that," said Ambrose. He just looked and the small Asian woman began making phone calls. Ray showed Ambrose the Mustang's engine and told him everything he'd done to it. But the time they were done talking the police were in front of the parking lot, blocking off the street. 

"Ray can you beat him?" I asked. 

"Hell no," he spat. "That car cost more than ten times what my Mustang GT did. The top speed of that car is over two hundred miles an hour."

"Good," I said. "We have to keep him happy. He's going to donate a half a million dollars to the school."

"So fucking what," spat Ray. "He's a billionaire, Claire. That's chump change to him." 

They lined up the cars. They were racing from one traffic light to the next, like hundreds of drivers did daily. 

The tiny form of Ambrose's assistant stood between the cars. She dropped her hand and they were off. With an ear splitting shriek and a roar of tortured pistons, Ray's Mustang rocketed away from the line. I hear a huge clank sound and the sound of something grinding coming from Ambrose's car as Ray's screaming yellow Mustang left him at the line.

Ray drove to the next light and then turned around and drove back. Ambrose got out of his car cursing. The he laughed as Ray came over to him. 

"Okay, you won," said Ambrose. "I'll have it fixed before I have it delivered to you."

"Don't bother," said Ray. "You keep it."

"It's not the car. It was me," said Ambrose. "I've owned it for three year and have only driven it twice. I'm just not any good with a manual transmission."

"I can't afford that car," said Ray. "It costs ten grand to get a brake job done on that thing. It's just not a practical car for me. Let's just chalk it up to fun and go eat."

Dinner was perfect. The food was amazing. Ambrose had rented the entire restaurant. During dinner we made pleasant conversation. The only damper on the evening was that Ray not only didn't hold my hand, but he moved his when I reached for it. He also wouldn't talk to me except when he absolutely had to to be polite. 

After dinner, Ambrose shocked the shit out of both of us.

"I have a proposition for you," Ambrose said to Ray. "Do you remember the movie "Indecent proposal?" 

"The one with Demi Moore and Robert Redford?" asked Ray standing up. "Fuck no!"

I had never seen the movie so I had no idea what was going on. "Ray you're being rude!" I said. 

"Did you know anything about this?" asked Ray. 

"I still don't know anything about it," I said. "Are you guys talking about some forty year old car movie?"

"No," spat Ray. "Mario Can't-fuckin-drive-etti here, wants to pay us to fuck you. So I told him no." 

"Shouldn't you hear my offer completely before you say no?" asked Ambrose. "And doesn't Claire have an opinion?" 

"No," spat Ray even more angrily. "Claire is mine. I'm not into sharing or swinging or any of that other bullshit." 

"Unlike in the movie," began Ambrose. "I don't want her for the entire night. I only require an hour or two. I'll pay the two of you a million dollars and no one will ever know." 

"I already told you no," said Ray. "If you ask me again, I'll have to do my talking with my fist, since you obviously can't understand words."

The two bodyguards were suddenly standing between Ray and Ambrose. 

"It figures," said Ray. "You can't drive your own car, why the hell did I think you could fight your own fights."

"Why would I ever have to?" smiled Ambrose. "That's what money is for. And I have a hell of a lot of money. The million dollars means next to nothing to me, but it would change your lives to a ridiculous degree."

"Go home and think about it. My offer is good until I leave town on Saturday morning. I think I'd like to do it on Friday night," he said.

My head was spinning. I was reeling from the thought that not only did Ambrose want me, but he was willing to pay a ridiculous amount of money to have sex with a forty year old woman. Even I didn't think my pussy was worth that much.

The drive home was silent. 

"Ray, Honey, hear me out," I said as we stepped into the house. "Do you know what we could do with a million dollars?"

"Pay for our divorce?" he spat angrily. "Talking about this Claire is moot. It isn't happening."

"But Ray," I began in my convincing voice.

"No, Claire," he said. "I said no and I fucking meant it."

"Ray, you don't get to decide this by yourself," I said. "It's my body. I can do what I want with it."

"Then you obviously don't want to stay married to me," he said. 

"Maybe you don't want to be married to me," I spat. "You talked so much about being practical earlier tonight. You didn't want Ambrose's car because it wasn't practical. But right now you're the one who isn't being practical. I don't love Ambrose, Ray. I only love you. All it would be is sex. You've had sex with me thousands of times over the past thirteen years. All he's asking for is once. We would never have any money problems for the rest of our lives. Don't you trust me?"

"I really thought I could, until now," he said. "You do what you want. You already know how I feel about this." He took off his clothes and headed for the bathroom. For a second night in a row, we slept apart. Ray was just so stupid. 

Over the next couple of days things didn't improve. Ray refused to even talk to me. He was up and gone every morning when I woke. And he stayed in the garage until just before he went to bed every night. By Wednesday night I had made up my mind. I called Ambrose and gave him my decision. 

* * * * * *

Ray

As I stood there in the park staring at that fountain, I compared my pain. In both cases it was off the charts. That first time though, when that asshole had tried to proposition us had hurt me. Tuesday night I came home and went to the garage. I did the same Wednesday as well. Every time that Claire tried to talk to me, I simply walked away. 

I couldn't understand her reasoning. We were married. We had taken vows to be faithful to each other. We hadn't put in any loopholes about except for in the case of assholes who tried to buy Claire like she was a whore. I wish that she could understand that there was no amount of money in the world that was worth half as much as Claire, to me. 

I began to think that I had married the wrong woman. We clearly saw things differently. Claire, kept coming over to me, and starting every conversation with; "Ray can we just talk about this?" After the first few conversations where she told me that it was her body and she could do what she wanted with it. And that this had nothing to do with love and everything to do with our future, I just stopped talking to her. 

Betty and Archie had been trying to intercede, but without knowing the details it was hard for them to side with either of us. Thursday night after work, I checked into a motel. I didn't want to be there on Friday when she went to meet him. I knew that if I did, I would probably kill one or both of them. 

As I sat there in that motel room, I realized that it was the first time since I was twenty two years old that I had gone to sleep without Claire under the same roof. I felt miserable. If I hadn't been a grown man, I would probably have cried. At around eight p.m. My phone started ringing. I saw that it was Claire and I felt too bad to argue with her. I just didn't answer the phone. After five or six calls, she gave up. Ten minutes later the phone started to ring again. This time I took the call. 

"Yeah, Arch," I said. 

"Can we get a beer and talk?" he asked. 

"Not if it's about Claire," I said. 

"Jeezus, Ray. Do you have to be such a hard ass?" he asked. "Claire is distraught. She's beside herself. She's..."

"Full of shit," I spat. "Do you have any idea of what we're arguing about?"

"Not really," he said. "But you seem to be fine. Claire is the one who's so upset that she can't keep any food down. She's pale and blotchy. Ray, the woman you love is making herself sick over whatever stupid thing the two of you can't agree on. You need to come home and talk to her."

"Good night Archie," I said. I got into the uncomfortable motel bed and tried my ass off to go to sleep. It took a while. My mind seemed to want to run a greatest hits reel of my life with Claire. 

I don't know when I finally drifted off to sleep. But I must've because I did wake up the next morning. It's hard to wake up if you haven't been asleep. I felt as if everything in my life that gave it meaning had been stolen from me. I was more animal than human at that point. I was running strictly on instinct. I checked my phone and found that I had over fifty messages. They were all from Claire. She sounded pathetic. A part of me wanted nothing more than to go to her and comfort her. But people change as they age and Claire was changing in front of my eyes. She would either emerge as the woman I loved or some rich guy's whore. 

I had left home because I didn't have the courage to watch her ruin our life together, just for some money that we really didn't need. 

The money wouldn't make us happier. It also wouldn't make us love each other anymore. At best it would buy us a few more material things. At worst arguing over it could ruin everything that we had taken years to build. It already had me moved out of the house and contemplating a life without Claire, which was something that I would previously have considered impossible and improbable. 

So, with my heart in my throat, and feeling like I would vomit anything I tried to eat, I did the only thing I could think of. I went to work. I buried myself in the minutia of my job. I found temporary solace in regularity. I did the things I did every day. I enjoyed the purely mindless quality of repetitive tasks that I could do in my sleep. 




A Whore Awakens



Georgie was going to a party. It was the first one in a while and she was excited. She had a new dress, new heel and the new underwear she had treated herself to the other week. It was a house party thrown at someone her best friend had known for years. He apparently always threw good parties but only certain people were invited. Her friend had assured her that there would be boys and she was looking forward to some fun and seeing what trouble she could get into.

She looked herself over in the long mirror before she left the house. She stood around five foot seven, a little taller with the sexy red heels she had on tonight. They looked amazing with her strappy red dress that accented her small but perfect breasts at 34a. Her hair, straightened and blonde looked gorgeous. She smoothed her hand over the material feeling her nipples harden at the brief touch. God she was horny. She had never had sex but must have read every piece of writing on the subject lately. It had started when her friends had let her borrow a copy of a recent popular book that had a kinky relationship at its core. Before that she hadn't really considered it but after that one book she had trawled the internet finding wilder and more interesting stuff that aroused her every time she thought about it. That had been the reason for the shopping trip this week to get some new lingerie. She wanted to start experiencing it.

Her friends arrived in the taxi and she ran outside clutching her bag. She slid into the car carefully but even so her dress slid up her legs showing off her stunning figure. The girls laughed and giggled as they drove to the part, out to the edges of town to the guy's house. It was quite large with a high perimeter wall. The drove up to the main gate and as they got out the taxi they could already hear music and laughter from inside. Susan one of Georgie's friends who knew the owner went over and buzzed the intercom. After a few seconds the gate open and they went inside.

There was a large two story house, with lawns surrounding it. On one of the lawns there was a large marque set up with a bar inside and a DJ booth, at the other end of the lawns was a large pool and next to it a hot tub. Georgie looked round in amazement then smiled and made her way to the bar. She ordered a drink and fished her purse out only to find that the first few were on the house. She sat around with her friends for a few minutes then they all got up to dance. It was a warm night and the combination of alcohol and heat made her skin flushed. There were a few boys there that she danced with and some quite attractive but they didn't seem to hold what she was looking for.

As the evening wore on and Georgie got slightly more drunk though she was careful not to drink too much and have to head home early, like Susan had, she spotted a man talking to a group of people who were laughing and chatting on some of the benches set out around the lawn. He had been pointed out as the owner and host earlier so she thought she had better say Hi and thank you. She started out purposefully across the lawn to where he sat and as she got there suddenly felt a bit shy around this group of confident and happy individuals. She smiled hesitantly at the man who stood up and saying goodbye to that group walked over to her.

"Hi, I don't think I have had the pleasure of meeting you, I'm Nick..."

"Hi, I'm Georgie... I just wanted to introduce myself and say thank you for the invitation. I have had a fun night so far. I have never been to one of your parties before."

"Well Georgie, why don't I show you round the house?"

Nick looped his arm through his and led her up towards the house. He was a good few inches taller than her and her heels made it difficult to walk on the grass so they walked along the path round the edge of the lawns whilst Nick asked her about herself. She in turn asked a few questions and as she looked at him she seemed mesmerised by his green eyes which seemed to see right through into her core. She stumbled slightly on the uneven path and his firm hands held her. She felt thoughts drifting to how those firm hands would feel elsewhere and looked him over again. Tall, reasonably handsome with broad, powerful shoulders he looked fairly good, she guessed his age to be around thirty and her fantasies drifted away again.

Suddenly snapping back to reality she realised that he had just asked her a question.

"I am so sorry, what did you say I missed that?" She asked with a slight giggle...

"Not listening properly hey... In my days if you didn't listen properly you were spanked..."

"Oh please..." It slipped out before she even registered. Her hand flew to her lips and she blushed crimson. "Oh god... I didn't mean to say that?"

To her embarrassment Nick had let out a particularly amused laugh and squeezed her close to him for a second. "Oh I had forgotten what it was like to speak without thinking... I tend to watch my words very carefully so that I don't say things I shouldn't... I am quite good with words, even had a few books published... but they probably wouldn't interest a young lady like you now." He raised one eyebrow as he looked at her and she shivered slightly, goosebumps running down her spine that had nothing to do with the cooling evening air.

"Maybe I would... what are they about?"

By now they had arrived at the house and he explained that it might just be easier to show her. He led her indoors and through the main rooms into what was obviously a study and writing area. A large wooden desk occupied the centre of the room with a large bay window behind it to let in light. Through it she could see the gardens and the marque with a few people still going strong despite the pitch blackness around the rest of the garden. One of the walls was lined with books whilst the others were covered in pictures. It took her a minute to realise the pictures were actually artistically taken photos, showing a variety of women in roped restraints. Each had signed thank you next to them, framed on the wall from the photographer. Nick picked up a book from the desk.

"This is my latest one..." He grinned at her, the cover matched one of the photographs on the wall. She realised the photos were actually covers. Curiously, the alcohol helping her confidence, she opened the book and read a few lines in the middle. She felt herself instantly getting wet, the description was amazing, it was just what she had been reading online, the ideas behind the story seemed perfect to her from the few lines she read.

She suddenly became aware that Nick was leaning on the desk watching her read, and that she had been biting her bottom lip, and that her nipples were poking very clearly through the front of her dress.

"I can give you a signed copy if you want to take one home and finish it..." Nick smiled, and behind that smile and his captivating eyes seemed a wealth of understanding and knowledge of what was going through her head.

"Yes please..." She managed to whisper as he walked towards her.

She couldn't move, couldn't think, could barely breath as his firm hands came up to cup the side of her face and tilt it up. He moved and positioned her, took control and kissed her. In that one moment of him taking charge she surrendered. She knew that it was this man that she wanted, this man that would take her, this man who could give her everything she craved. Looking back years later she still couldn't explain it but this was the choice that fit.

Nick had moved her so that she was against the desk, the cheeks of her ass resting on the surface as he pressed her back kissing her fiercely. His hands roamed her body eagerly, feeling her soft warm skin, tracing the curves of her hips, enjoying the sensations of her against him. He could feel his arousal rapidly building and he grabbed a handful of her hair, hearing her gasp and kissing her again, his kisses traced down the side of her neck to just about the top of her dress, the barest hint of his kisses on the tops of her breasts. Then his firm hands pulled the top of her dress down exposing her pert, aroused nipples to his greedy mouth. He licked and sucked and teased them until she was sure her wetness must be soaked through her new panties.

His hands slid down to stroke her long legs then up lifting the dress. She wiggled her bum so it slid up easily and then he just pulled it up and over her head dropping it on the chair next to the desk. He stood back for a moment to admire this beauty in front of him. Her almost naked body, long legs ending in the heels, sexy red lace panties covering an obviously shaven pussy. Then he moved forwards again. Stepping between her legs he lifted her onto her back on the desk, lifting her long legs straight up in the air he grabbed a handful of the panties and pulled them hurridly, almost savagely up and off over the heels dropping them beside her dress.

"Please," she almost whispered, "I need it, I want you but..."

He sensed her hesitation and heard the whispers even above his rising lust. "I'm your first?" She nodded looking vulnerable for a moment and he smiled gently. "Then tonight will be a night you will remember always..."

He knelt in front of the desk and lowered his mouth to her bare shaven cunt and slowly ran his tongue along the length of her slit. She cried out, her hips almost bucking her off the desk. His firm hand pinned her down and he proceeded to tease and fuck her wet pussy with his talented tongue. It circled her clit, split her open, darted in and out... Long wet strokes drove her insane and pushed her closer and closer until she exploded for him. Just as she was coming down from that peak she heard the zip on his pants. Looking up through the orgasmic haze she watched as his shirt, pants and boxers all went away. He stood there naked, his hard cock jutting proudly in front as he stepped in towards her again. He gripped his cock and teased her sensitive pussy with the head. Rubbing it against her clit making her cry out again.

Then slowly he eased the head inside her tight hole. He began to push it deeper and deeper until with a final thrust he broke deep inside her and leaning over her kissed her as he penetrated her fully. Her hands reaching up to grip him tightly, nails digging into his skin as she felt a hot, thick, hard cock buried inside her for the first time. He gave her time to get used to it then began slowly to slide his shaft in and out of her. It was lucky that she was so wet from her orgasm as he wasn't sure he could have fucked as tight a pussy as this without it. She gripped his cock like a glove and even when he began to speed up it still felt amazingly tight around him.

With her encouraging moans and cries when he drove into her it wasn't long before his firm hands had her pinned to the desk and he drove himself in and out of her harder and harder. She cried out and came for him, not once but twice more under his driving cock, begging him, pleading with him to fuck her, to make her his...

Georgie didn't know where it all came from, it was like a flood gate had opened... All the fantasies, all the dirty sexy stories she had read, the nasty language she never would have uttered before gushed out of her mouth... she told him that she was on the pill, that she wanted to feel him cum inside her, she told him that she was his slut, his fuck toy to use, she begged him to fuck her harder.

He did just that until he could hold back no longer. He rammed his cock inside her, the force lifting her slim, young body off the desk as his shaft exploded deep within her. She felt every blast of his cum deep inside her, felt every shiver and shake as his cock throbbed deep within her and she came again. This time it was so intense that her young body couldn't cope and she blacked out.