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You Can't Do That

By: Harddaysknight



"Hello," greeted Sue into the telephone.

"Hey, Sue! Is the cuck there?" I asked.

"Who do you want, Bill? You know there's no one in this family by that name," she responded. "Did you call to speak with Jerry?"

"Well, yeah! Jerry, the cuck, is he there?" I asked. "I wanted to tell him something."

"You call Jerry, "the cuck" now? How did he get that nickname, Bill?" asked Sue. "Does it have something to do with his bowling?"

"No, his bowling sucks, but it always has. That's nothing new. He was telling us last night that he's becoming a cuckold pretty soon, so it seems appropriate that we call him the cuck, or cuck for short, don't you think?" I prodded.

"Tell me, Bill, exactly what does cuckold mean?" demanded Sue.

"Seriously, Sue? You don't know what it means? It's an expression that a wife, and only a wife, can bestow on a man. It's a man whose wife is fucking someone other than her husband, who by tradition, is the only man that should be fucking her," I explained.

"You asshole! That's a cruel thing to call a man, especially a man as proud as Jerry. He'll kick your ass if you call him that to his face, Bill!" Sue threatened.

"That would have concerned me a week ago, but not any more, Sue. He's a fucking wimp. His ass kicking days are over. He might scare a few girly-men, but no real men," I laughed.

"Do you think Jerry has suddenly lost a hundred pounds and most of his muscle? He's just as tough as he was a week or a year ago!" insisted Sue.

"I don't think so, and neither will anyone else, Sue. He hasn't lost any weight or muscle. It's a lot worse. He's lost respect and he's lost his balls," I responded evenly. "He's a fucking cuckold and a goddamn wimp now. That's why I called."

"You're supposed to be his friend, Bill! With friends like you, he sure doesn't need any enemies!" sneered Sue. "He's the same man he's always been. You'd be wise to remember that. Did you call just to torment Jerry over the phone?"

"You're in no position to lecture me on how to be a friend, Sue! I called to tell him to not bother coming to the bowling alley tonight, or any other night the team is bowling. He's been voted off the team!" I revealed.

"Off the team? He's the captain. He bowls anchor on the team. He started the team. He's the one that asked you to join! What kind of a miserable prick are you, Bill?" demanded Sue.

"Sue! That's no way to talk! You're the one that decided this, not me. You started things in motion and they have to go to their natural conclusion," I responded gently. "You're the one that told Jerry that you wanted to have a lover and he had to accept it, or get out. He's as big as a house, but he'd walk into hell for you. That's why he didn't toss your ass out immediately. That sealed his fate. You know how devoted he is to you, how much he worships you, and you've decided to take advantage of his big heart and take a lover."

"That really isn't any of your fucking business!" yelled Sue. "You can bet your ass that you won't be the man I choose, so just butt out!"

"Well, Sue, it is my business. It's like a cancer and it has to be removed quickly and surgically. That's the only way the rest of us can survive and our survival is foremost in our thoughts, believe me," I answered.

"That's bullshit, Bill!" snapped Sue. "How can our personal life affect you?"

"Are you kidding? If we treat Jerry like a regular man, he'll think he is one, and he isn't. No man would allow his wife to have a lover. Nor would a man allow another man to even touch his wife in a sexual way. Ergo, he's no man and we cannot treat him like one. It would be a disservice to him and to our selves if we don't ridicule and shun him for the pariah he is," I concluded.

"You think that will be a service to Jerry, you dumb bastard?" argued Sue. "You'll just be hurting his feelings. No friend would deliberately hurt a friend's feelings."

"I'm getting tired of your name calling, Sue. Jerry needs to see that he's a pathetic excuse for a man. He needs to know that he's a wimp. He has to hit bottom so he can rebuild his respect and his life. He needs to understand that a loveless marriage is not something he should cling to and live with," I reasoned. "Once he sees the light and gets a divorce, he'll be on the road to recovery and we'll be supporting him all the way. He'll be our captain again. We just can't be the only men's team in the league with a captain with no balls. We all feel strongly about that!"

"A loveless marriage? A divorce? Did Jerry use those words?" asked a stunned Sue.

"Not yet, Sue. That's where we're trying to help him. That's why we're tossing him off the team. That's why neither of you will be invited to any functions any of us have. That and the cancer aspect, of course," I added.

"His friends want Jerry to divorce me? You're all going to shun him? All over a personal decision of ours that doesn't involve you?" questioned Sue.

"Doesn't concern us? You're ripping the guy's balls right off and feeding them to him! What kind of friends would we be if we ignored that? The other problem that concerns us is our wives. If we show any weakness here, they might think they can pull the same shit that you're pulling. We guys are determined to draw a line in the sand. This shit will not be tolerated by any of the rest of us. We'll toss the bitch out immediately if any of them even thinks about making any of us a cuckold!" I declared heatedly.

"So, it's fear? That's what this is about, isn't it, Bill?" responded Sue with contempt. "You he-men are afraid to let your wives try some strange cock!"

"Bingo! That's part of it! I don't know any man that feels secure enough to want his wife to get fucked by another man. We're worried about the guy being a better lay, a better après-fuck talker... shit we're afraid of all kinds of things!" I admitted. "That's one reason we can't live with a cheating wife. We could find ourselves trying to outdo some bastard that sits around all day collecting welfare, just waiting to fuck a woman while we're trying to earn a living, take care of the house and cars, discipline the kids, mow the yard and take out the fucking garbage! That flat out scares most men, and makes us mad as hell!"

"You're such an insecure, pathetic little man, Bill," laughed Sue wickedly.

"No argument, Sue. You just described most men, at least when it comes to wife sharing," I confessed. "Suppose we aren't James Bond types. Suppose we just go to work every day and do our best to keep a roof over our family's head. Suppose the other guy fucking the wife takes her dancing and buys her flowers for no reason and fucks her to a dozen orgasms every time. Sure, the novelty will wear off and he'll move on. Still, it leaves us regular Joes looking and feeling like shit. That in itself is a good enough reason to get divorced."

"Wouldn't it be better if you did all those things for your wife, Bill. Why does it have to be a different man that knows how to treat your woman?" quizzed Sue.

"Because he's trying to get into her pants! He isn't worried about all the shit that a husband has to worry about. Why do men have to find a slut to suck their cocks as soon as they come through the door? Why don't wives offer their asses to their husbands every night? Why don't wives spread their legs and shut the fuck up whenever a man wants some tail?" I demanded.

"Maybe we're trying to raise the kids, make meals, clean the house and the fucking messes that men make! Maybe we're trying to work a career, raise a family, take care of our aging parents, and just keep from collapsing in exhaustion! That's why we aren't on our knees sucking our husband's cock anytime he gets the urge!" shouted Sue into the phone. 

"Exactly, Sue," I replied calmly. "That's why we don't have an affair or get a divorce the first time the wife is too busy, or too tired for sex. We don't get a mistress so we can get an occasional blowjob. We accept that our wives are doing their best and want them to accept that in us. Maybe we're not good at ballroom dancing. Maybe we forget birthdays and anniversaries. It isn't because we don't care. It's just that we are more focused on building, fixing, repairing, maintaining, and providing. Maybe wives don't waltz around in lingerie or a leather bustier all the time. Maybe they wear sweats and old shirts because they're taking care of kids and making meals and want to be practical."

"So you think I'm being unreasonable by wanting Jerry to accept me finding a considerate lover that will romance me and treat me like a lady?" asked Sue.

"To be frank, it's the dumbest damn thing I ever heard, Sue," I answered honestly. "You'll cause Jerry to doubt his manhood. He'll doubt your love for him, and with damn good reason, I might add. You'll subject him to embarrassment and humiliation. You'll drive him from your marriage. He'll find a woman that accepts her role as a loving wife and appreciates that he's an honest, sober, kind, hard working, family-oriented man. You have no idea how many women want exactly that in a husband and would kill to get it. Jerry will be remarried within a year of the divorce."

"You keep saying divorce, but Jerry loves me, Bill," pointed out Sue. "He worships the ground I walk on. He won't want a divorce."

"That's naive at best, and more likely it's just plain stupid. Jerry won't be able to live with the doubts and the humiliation, Sue. He'll be in big demand when he's single again. I've seen it happen too many times. You, on the other hand, will be damaged goods. I don't know of a lot of men that want to marry a cheating slut. A lot of guys will be willing to screw you from time to time, but you won't be the kind of woman a guy takes home to mom. That's for sure. Shit! The dream lover you find won't treat you like a lady for long. He'll treat you like what you are; a married, desperate housewife. You'll be his slut and he'll have no respect for you. "

"Well thanks for that observation, Bill!" growled Sue. "You're assuming I'm going to be single again. That everyone will think I ruined a good marriage and that I'm a cheating bitch."

"Yes, Sue, I am," I responded simply. "I'd bet on it."

"Well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on!" screamed Sue as she slammed the receiver down.

I returned the phone to the cradle and decided to go get a beer. That's when I saw my wife, Mary standing in the doorway. I wondered how much of my phone conversation she heard. That question was soon answered.

"Has Sue really told Jerry she wants to take a lover, Bill?" asked Mary. "Can she be that stupid? He's a wonderful husband and father! He's as gentle as he is big and he treats her like a goddess."

"I was sworn to secrecy, Mary. Jerry is ashamed and frightened about his marriage. He's convinced he can't live without Sue and would try to accept her proposal if he has to do so," I revealed. "It's ripping him apart already."

"I'm supposed to go shopping with Sue and Karen tomorrow. I think I'll cancel those plans right now," stated Mary. "I won't be able to keep from giving her a piece of my mind."

"Then go, Mary! The dumb bitch needs an ass chewing, big time. Embarrass her, humiliate her, whatever it takes," I suggested. "Make her see what a huge mistake it would be."

"What would you say if I told you I wanted a boy toy, Bill? Would you get all huffy and threaten me?" wondered Mary.

"You know the answer to that question already," I chuckled. "Just like I know how you'd go for me having a mistress. I've grown attached to my balls and I'll do whatever it takes to keep them!"

Mary has big grin on her face when she came through the door the next afternoon. She could barely contain herself and was eager to tell me about her day. 

"What a day, Bill!" laughed Mary. "As soon as Sue, Karen, and I were in the car, I started telling Karen about Sue taking a lover. I hadn't even considered that Karen has been a widow for over two years. She immediately became very interested and started asking Sue all kinds of questions. Long story short, by day's end, Karen told Sue she was going to fuck Jerry's brains out once Sue found a lover!"

"No shit? That's one hell of a consolation prize!" I admitted, as I thought of Karen at our last pool party in her orange swimsuit. "Maybe this will work out okay for Jerry, after all."

"Karen started asking how much money Jerry made and what kind of meals he liked. She asked Sue if Jerry hadn't built the deck in the back of their house and if he knew how to install a bathroom," chuckled Mary. "Karen made it pretty obvious that she considered Jerry a prime target for a woman looking for a good husband."

"How did Sue take her questions?" I asked.

"At first she was bragging up Jerry and telling how he had installed their master bath and remodeled their kitchen himself," replied Mary. "Then as Karen started asking about his sexual preferences and mentioned how every couple that tries strange outside the marriage gets divorced, Sue realized that Karen was pretty much declaring her intention to seduce Jerry and eventually make him her husband!"

"Wow! If Jerry knew that a fox like Karen was interested in him, he'd probably toss Sue's ass out the door, especially after her stated intentions," I surmised.

"I think Sue came to the same conclusion, Bill. She tried to talk Karen out of it and told her how Jerry was demanding and inconsiderate. She told Karen that he wanted Sue to give him a blowjob every few days and he had some sort of fetish about eating pussy all the time," revealed Mary.

"I didn't know that about Jerry. He likes dining at the Y?" I repeated. "There could be worse things, don't you think?"

"Karen almost orgasmed as Sue told us about it," answered Mary. "She told Sue that if a good looking, hard working man like Jerry would install a new kitchen and bathroom in her house, she's be delighted to blow him several times a day and she would certainly allow him free access to her pussy anytime he was hungry. She told Sue that her reasons for claiming Jerry wasn't a good a husband were the dumbest things she ever heard!" 

"Karen said that?" I asked in amazement. "Did she say anything about me, Mary? I can do plumbing and repairs. I'm a pretty good mechanic, too. Did she ask you if you were thinking of stepping out?"

"Not even close, Buster!" laughed Mary again. "I swore that my fidelity and love for you were absolute, without end, and completely reciprocated. I told Karen and Sue that I'd claw out the eyes of any bitch that even looked at you cross-eyed and under no circumstances would I ever cheat on you. I know how attractive you think Karen is. The idea of eating her out and getting blowjobs from her is far too tempting for me to allow that idea to take root!"

"Haven't you even fantasized about other men, Mary?" I whined. "If you wanted to look for greener pastures, maybe Karen would console me."

"I have a few fantasies, Bill, but you're my real life man and it's going to stay that way. On the drive home, I was even thinking that maybe I should give you more blowjobs, just so you know how serious I am about that, and so you don't start dreaming about Karen," mused Mary.

"I see. You logic seems to be impeccable, Mary. I like the way you face any possible problems and head them off before they get out of hand," I agreed.

"I'll "head" those problems off all right, and take "it" out of your hand, Big-boy, as long as you repay Miss Kitty for all that attention," laughed Mary.

Just then the phone rang and I picked it up.

"Bill? This is Sue," spoke the voice on the other end.

"Sue? I guess I have to thank you for spicing up my love life!" I responded honestly. "Mary is determined to not give me the reason you're giving to Jerry to wind up in bed with, and enjoy immensely, the considerable oral skills of Karen Jenkins."

"That's why I called, Bill. I want you to make Jerry captain of the bowling team again. He isn't a cuckold, nor will he ever be. I had a slight brain fart, but I've cleared up my thinking now," confessed Sue. "I didn't give any thought to Jerry having a lover. I couldn't live with that! What if he found someone that loved him better, or had nicer tits, or gave him blowjobs three times a day? I can't compete with some dream woman trying to steal my husband away!"

"Sounds as insecure as you thought I seemed yesterday," I suggested. "It's scary, isn't it, Sue? When you've been married for 20 years, you get complacent and take the spouse for granted and start thinking that there are greener pastures. A new lover will be exciting and out to prove their skills. They may be thinner, funnier, richer, more attractive or just more appreciative."

"Yeah, I know that. Mary and that slut, Karen, helped drive that point home today. I apologized to Jerry when I got home and then I gave him the first of what I promised to be many blowjobs," Sue proudly stated. "He's sleeping now, but I think he's going to forgive me for being so selfish and stupid. Thank Mary, too, for helping open my eyes."

"Okay, Sue. Have a good night," I answered.

"You too, Bill. You've always been the one I leaned on, even when we were kids. Thanks for being such a good brother. Dad would have been proud." 

You Can't Do That! Ch. 01



There's usually a kernel of truth in everything I write. In our thirty one years together "You can't do that" is one of my wife's favorite sayings. She knows that it irritates me and I have to prove I can. It took me about five years[I'm a man, we're dumb as rocks, ask any woman]to figure out she sometimes told me that just to get me do something she wanted. Now when she says it I just grin and say "You're probably right." and then she gets irritated.

It's just the average give and take between two almost sixty empty nesters, I'm sure it goes on in every marriage regardless of length.

I hasten to add this is fiction, just something warped that came to me when she said that the other night. I have to go now, this brain surgery is harder than it looks. It would have been a lot easier if the manual had illustrations. I wish now she hadn't told me I couldn't do it.

................................................

"You can't do that!"

"What do you mean I can't? How hard could it be? Boy meets girl. They fall in love. Something happens to keep them apart. True love triumphs in the end. Cash exchanges hands."

She snorted. She was on a real roll.

"You don't have what it takes. No skill, no imagination, no experience. Plus, you have no idea what women want. Anyone could look at us and see that. If you tried to write a romance novel, it would probably turn out to be something between a comedy and a tragedy. I swear, where do you get these goofy ideas?"

Hard experience made me drop the conversation. But it stuck in my brain and I couldn't shake it.

The argument was sparked over a Nicolas Sparks movie. We have Netflix, and it's probably the best entertainment value around. For less than ten bucks you can have almost everything filmed since movies and television began at the click of a button, except for the newest movies and the current season of any series.

I had watched an interview with Nicolas Sparks on my favorite TV show, Sunday Morning, on CBS. They did a brief biography, and talked about the enormous amounts of money he was making off his work.

The next week Sheila pulled up one of his movies, and I told her about the interview, and how much he was worth. She looked up from the tv screen.

"Too bad you don't have talent enough to do something like that."

"I bet I could do it if I wanted to bad enough." 

Just like that, it was on.

"Please. Just stop, don't embarrass yourself."

I tried to let it go.

"You're probably right."

................................................

It started early in our marriage. I had always admired wood carvers. It was near Christmas, and I was watching a show on PBS about German woodcarvers. Their work was ornate, but they had a segment on the apprenticeship program, and showed them carving simple heads.

Sheila came through, on her way to shop with her sisters. She looked at the TV.

"They're really good aren't they?"

"Yes,they are. I've always thought I'd like to try it."

She just rolled her eyes.

"You can't do that. It takes years, and I don't think you have the talent."

It really irked me how dismissive she could be sometimes.

"I don't mean that. I mean simple things, like figures and heads. That's where they start their apprentices at."

"well, good luck with that. Be back in a couple hours."

She was laughing as she went out the door.

I took a newspaper and spread it thickly on our dining room table, went outside and got a block of cherry wood off our woodpile, sharpened up two of my favorite pocket knives, and started carving.

Three hours and another block of wood, and I had a pretty decent Santa head, complete with flowing beard. I cleaned the dining room, put it on a place mat in the center of the table, and went off to do chores that always seemed to pile up.

About an hour after she came home she walked into the living room with the head in her hands.

"Where did this come from?"

"I carved it while you were shopping. Do you like it?"

She hefted it in her hands.

"It has a certain, what's the word, yeah, rustic appeal. I like it. So, where did you get it?"

"Off the woodpile. I really did carve it."

She kissed my cheek and giggled.

"If you say so, honey."

I had to carve something in front of her before she would believe me.

................................................

Ten years later my mom needed a new deck. I showed Sheila the plans I wanted to use, and she laughed again.

"You don't have the skills to build something like that. Don't try it, you'll waste a bunch of money and time."

I had changed jobs, and worked for a modular housing manufacturer, starting out driving a forklift and rising to inventory coordinator.

It was a position basically just for me.

We didn't build cookie cutter houses. Everything we built was to the plans of the customer. Of course we had basic floor plans the customer could take and tweak until it was exactly what they wanted. We also built offices, apartment buildings, condos, anything you could plan and build in sections we did.

All this customizing was expensive, especially if you ended up with leftovers. Some of the stuff was generic and could be used in another building, but a lot wasn't, and we'd be stuck with it. I could see it because I handled a lot of the materials, so I started making suggestions. They were laughed at mostly until we got a new plant manager. His biggest concern was waste, and when he saw some of my suggestions, one thing led to another until I found myself with an office instead of a forklift, and a hefty raise.

So, no, I didn't have the skill set I needed, but I worked every day with guys that did. And I didn't spend all those years watching without learning a few things. I hired one guy as a helper and advisor, and built the deck.

It didn't come together quickly, and I made a few mistakes, but when the smoke cleared my mom had a three tier deck, with custom railings, and coordinated flower boxes.

Sheila never commented on it, except to say she wanted a bigger one. I never got around to building it.

.........................................

Don't get me wrong here. There's a lot of things out there I can't do, I'm not an idiot.

I can't fix your car, or program your computer, but if I honestly think I can do it, I'll try. Of course I had my share of failures, but I like to think I learned as much from them as I did my successes.

So I decided to write a book, just to prove I could.

First I did my research. I was an avid reader. I usually read two to three books a week. Fantasies, how-to, biographies, histories, westerns, classics, pretty much everything but romances. I went to the local thrift stores, and bought Harlequin romances by the bag full. Literally. They had a sale going, for a buck a bag, all you could stuff in. I also bought some Nora Roberts, two Nicolas Sparks, and a handful of lesser known but also successful romance authors.

The better known writers were all right, but it wasn't my cup of tea. The mind numbing repetitive themes in the paperbacks almost made me give up. I had enough images of heaving breasts, oiled loins and ripped bodices to last me a lifetime.

I sat around making notes, outlining plots, character development, location ideas, until I felt like I was ready.

Sheila was used to me being on the computer. We got one late in life and I was still learning how to use it. She used it some, mostly to look up recipes and how-to sites. She had no interest in Facebook, or email. I wasn't much better, so I had to get my son to set it up for me to write.

I worked two to four hours, four or five days a week on the book. I redid most of it several times before I felt it was readable, then redid it one more time. It took four months from start to finish.

When I printed it off it was so thick I had to bind it in sections, three to four chapters per binder. It took five. I presented the first binder to Sheila in October.

"What's this?"

"It's the book you said I couldn't write. Read it and see what you think."

She tossed it onto the coffee table.

"I'll look at it later. There's a movie I want to finish. Do you want a pizza tonight?"

I wasn't disappointed. After all these years I was kind of use to it.

She was a nurse at the local hospital. Her official title was training supervisor, basically she babysat new nurses, making sure they didn't kill anybody. She worked a split shift, ten a.m. until seven p.m., so she could work with both shifts. Every few weeks she would work a couple of graveyard shifts, just to keep everyone in line.

I worked from seven until five thirty, four days a week, unless we were behind or I had to prepare for a special project. Home almost two hours earlier, I made most of the meals. I liked to cook, having worked in several restaurants after high school. Usually it was basic fare, but for the last year I had been a bit more creative, getting many recipes off the internet. Most times she appreciated what I made, but once in a while not. She almost never volunteered to help clean up.

We were drifting apart, and nothing I said or did seemed to matter. Admitting it to myself, I saw a future as a single. At my age, it wasn't an appealing situation.

Our love life had dwindled down to once every week or so. No passion, just spread and get it over with. Romantic dinners, an occasional weekend away, nothing seemed to get to her. She blamed age, physical condition, low libido.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're getting some on the side."

She choked on her tea, and went into a tirade about what an insensitive asshole I was. But the next night she initiated a session of lovemaking.

It sucked, because I knew she was just doing it to placate me, but it felt great because it had been awhile.

I sent her some flowers the next day, and she gave me a nice kiss when she got home. Our lovemaking picked up for a little, then she slid back to routine. I resolved to face our age, and realize it just wasn't as important to her as it was to me, and respect that.

She never got around to reading the book. After two weeks I took it off the coffee table and put it with the rest of the folders and forgot about it.

.................................................

Our seventeen year old granddaughter was with us for a weekend. That happened about every two months, when their parents wanted privacy or a short trip. She actually lived with us for a year when she was fourteen when her parents broke up, it just wasn't a good environment for her.

The divorce was bitter, petty, and way to long.

Her father cheated, got caught, and her mom went for scorched earth instead of mediation. They argued violently about a dog neither wanted. I ended up with him.

Five months after it was over her mother remarried. Seems she was pregnant, and had been sleeping with him long before the divorce. When this came to light it sparked another round of fireworks. My granddaughter ended up with our son.

He had recently met someone, and they seemed to be serious. Kelsie, our granddaughter, seemed to like her. Thank God for small miracles.

I chewed my son and ex daughter out for their behavior and how it had affected Kelsie, and interaction between us was pretty frosty for a while.

Sheila took the daughters' side, saying she couldn't stand cheaters and treating her own son rather badly. When it came out she had played around too, I was surprised she didn't change her attitude. Her position was he must have drove her to it.

I was finishing up dinner, we were grilling. Or should I say, Kelsie was finishing. That girl must have a lot of repressed male genes, she loved to grill. Whoever she picked to be her life partner was going to be one lucky individual.

She chattered away about her friends at school, her boyfriend, her college plans. The bitter divorce had left both parents pretty much broke, and college was looking more and more unattainable.

I stepped into the breech and offered to pay, if she went the first year at the local community college. Too many of my friends had seen their kids major in party, and I wasn't going to pay that kind of money for nothing. If she did well at community college, she could transfer to any state college she wanted. I wold pay the tuition, and both parents could pay room and board.

Sheila and I had a pretty big confrontation over it. She wanted to keep the money to pad our retirement. In the end, I actually won. She was not a gracious loser.

Kelsie sat at the computer to check her Facebook. How can they have that much to talk about?

"What's this?" She was looking at the folders I had stored under the desk.

Sheila had joined us. She laughed.

"That's your grandfather's version of the Great American Romance Novel."

"Really Gramps? You wrote a book? Can I read it?"

I laughed.

"Sure. At least someone should read it."

Sheila stiffened.

"I'll read it, I promise. I've just been so busy lately."

We ate the steaks, and sat around talking for a couple of hours. It was her time to ride herd on the trainees on third, so she had to get ready for work.

I cleaned the grill while Kelsie washed the dishes. We watched a movie, and damn if it wasn't a Nicolas Sparks movie. I was off to bed and told her not to be up too late, collected my kiss, and

shut the door. 

One of the curses of growing old is you hardly ever sleep through the night. It was three thirty according to my clock when I woke up, needing to go. Afterwards, I checked the house to make sure Kelsie didn't leave a bunch of lights on. She was in the living room with just a reading lamp on, crying.

I rushed over.

"Kelsie honey, what's wrong?"

She leapt off the couch and hugged me as hard as she could. I was starting to panic.

"It's so," sob "So" sob "Beautiful! Did you really write this?"

I looked down and saw her holding a binder.

"Yes, baby. I wrote it. It's not a big deal, and it'll be here tomorrow. Go to bed."

She did, but she took the binders.

I thought about it when I lay back down, and was really pleased she liked it. I thought it over, and realized it was perfect for a girl that age. There was no sex in the tale, I didn't know how and didn't really feel comfortable about it, so things were implied, not described.

A month went by. Our lovemaking picked up a bit, and Sheila seemed more like the woman I married.

The phone rang. It was a man I went to high school with, almost forty years ago.

"Pete, it's me, Jimmy Page? Remember me?"

"Yeah, been a long time, Zep. You weren't at the last reunion, so it's been what, almost twenty years? How's life treating you?"

He laughed that laugh that irritated me so much. Some things never change. We called him Zep because he had the same name as the guitar player for Led Zeppelin. First we called him Zeppelin, but of course it got shortened to Zep. 

"Oh I'm fine. Look, I want to talk about your book."

He caught me by surprise.

"What book?"

"That romance novel you wrote. It's pretty good."

How did you get a copy of that?" I was looking at Kelsie, she was there for an overnight. She heard the words "romance novel" and suddenly found something interesting in the magazine she was reading.

"My granddaughter showed it to me. I couldn't believe it was you. I guess you never know. I'd like to publish. I own a little publishing company. I could do you right."

I never trusted Zep. Just a feeling I could never shake.

"I don't know, I just wrote it to prove I could."

He tried for several minutes to get me to commit. It struck me he was maybe recording the conversation.

"Let me think about it, Zep. I'll get back to you." He was still trying to get me to commit as I was hanging up.

I hit the computer as soon as I hung up, and he really did own a publishing company. But it was a vanity press. You know, they'll publish anything if you're willing to fund it. If it's any good, then they get a cut of the profits. It was a win/win for the publisher, and a sucker deal for the writer.

"Kelsie, Where's my book?"

"Uh, well, you see, I..."

"Kelsie! Stop eating waffles. Where is it?"

"Uh, I've still got it, but I kind of made copies so my friends could read it, and they made copies for their other friends to read it, and then Angie gave a copy to her cousin on the other end of the county, so now it's going round that high school. Everybody is bugging me for your next one. Sorry, Gramps. But it's really good. You should really get it published."

I tried to frown.

"I'm not too happy about this, but I never actually told you that it couldn't be shared. Let's just call it a learning experience. And I have no idea how to get it published, and don't really know if I should."

She showed a surprising amount of maturity.

"You don't know how good it is, do you? Let me do some research for you, It couldn't hurt. Maybe Nicolas Sparks better be looking over his shoulder."

I hugged her and we laughed, and I forgot all about it.

She called me two weeks later. 

"Gramps, I did it. I sent your book off to the top four romance epublishers on the net. All the research says that's the way to go. When it hits, you better dedicate it to me."

We both laughed, and I promised I would.

A week later my computer crashed. A virus from a game site. Research taught me that game sites are the worst, followed by recipe sites, then porn.

I guess more people would rather play games and eat well than watch naked bodies in unrealistic positions.

The recession hit my company hard. It's too easy to pick up a foreclosure for two thirds market value than pay the price of a new one. It got slower and slower, until we were doing rotational layoffs.

Sheila started complaining about me being underfoot, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it. I finally snapped.

"Sheila! Think about this. We're both planning to retire in four years years. You won't even have the luxury of going to work. What are you gonna do then?"

"Volunteer" she said under her breath as she walked off.

I was in no hurry for a new computer. I missed it, but not much. I figured someone would have a hot sale in time for Christmas. So I piddled round the house, doing things I never had time for before.

It was a week I was working, and I had just got home. I was half listening when the answering machine picked up.

"Mr. Smith, this is Nora Holmes with Norbert Publishing. We've been unable to reach you through your email, and we'd like to talk to you about your book, please contact us at..."

I snatched the phone up "Hello, hello, I just walked through the door."

Her tone wasn't really that friendly.

"Why don't you answer you email?"

"I'm sorry, my computer is down. I haven't replaced it yet."

"What? How do you live without a computer? That's ridiculous. It would be in your best interests to replace it immediately, especially if you're going to do business with us."

"Er, yes, you're probably right. Am I? Doing business, I mean."

"That remains to be seen, Mr. Smith. We're interested, but it needs polish, and you need to shorten it by about thirty thousand words. If you agree to work with us on it, maybe we'll offer you a contract. At the very least it'll help you try to peddle it to the next publisher."

"What do I need to do?"

"Get a computer! You'll need a good one. We REALLY don't like making phone calls, so keep up with your emails. We're sending your manuscript back. Follow directions, listen to what the editors say, and send it back to us."

What an abrupt woman. She didn't say goodbye.

I bought a new computer, had my son set it up.

I had him establish a personal email account and password protected it. This was the one the publishers got. I wanted to surprise them all if I actually got published. 




You Can't Do That! Ch. 01



When the manuscript came back it looked like it had been dipped in red ink. I found out later most romance novels are seventy to one hundred ten thousand words. Mine had just a hair over one forty. They suggested trimming it down to just over a hundred thousand, and I tried several times, but ended up with a finished product of right outside one hundred twenty.

They sent it back once more before they were satisfied. I got a rare phone call.

"We would like to publish your book, Mr. Smith, if we can agree on a few things. By the way, this call is recorded, for legal purposes."

It was one of the most interesting conversations I'd ever had.

"First, Mr. Smith, it is our policy to never publish a single book, we always insist on a mulitbook deal, two minimum. Do You think you have another in you?"

Yes I did. When this first started looking like it was real, I started thinking of other things I wanted to write. I told her I was already working on one. 

"Good. Send us a a synopsis, and if we like it, you'll have your contract."

"Excuse me, but we haven't talked about money."

She laughed.

"Good, you're not a sheep. Send us the synopsis, and we'll talk money."

I did better. I sent her the first six chapters.

I got a packed manila envelope three days later on UPS. It was from the publisher, and the first envelope inside said "read me first".

"Congratulations Mr. Smith. We have decided to offer you a contract. It is included. Get a lawyer, have him review it. If it is satisfactory, sign and return it. The minute we receive it we will begin the process of getting your first book published. Call me after the first of the year, on January fourth or fifth, after three o'clock my time. There's a few things we'll have to cover that I prefer not to do on the net. Until then."

It was a small, two page contract. I went to a lawyer two towns over. I still wanted to keep it secret. He reviewed it, found it straightforward. 

"It's about as simple as it gets. You do this, they do that. Breech of contract if one of you fail to fulfill your obligations. Good luck."

I called on the appointed day.

"Mr. Smith, good to hear from you. I just got your contract. Now, general information. It will be about nine months before we publish. We only release a specific number of books per quarter. It reduces competition and boosts sales. As you saw in the contract, the money side is pretty simple. We never give advances, it's a straight royalty deal. You're an unknown quantity, so the first book will be priced at four ninety five per download. You get three dollars per hit, we get the rest. And you HAVE to pay taxes on your share."

"You'll need to get a separate bank account just for us, and we'll send you a program you can load on your computer that will automatically deduct the proper amount and send it to the IRS. There's a program you can get that does the same for your state taxes. I suggest you get it."

"Now, if your first book is successful enough, we'll price the second at seven ninety five. If you do well, and want another contract, the next book will be priced at nine ninety five. With me so far?"

"This part is really important, so stay with me.

You mean nothing to us at this stage, so don't get cute ideas or notions of grandeur, or we'll drop you like a rock. This is a business, and the point is to make money. The more hits you get, the more money we make. If I tell you to do something, do it and don't argue. You understand?"

I felt like I had just been chewed out by a high school teacher..

"Yes, ma'am, I understand."

She immediately got a little friendlier.

"Thank you. Now on to more pleasant things. We really like your book. It is our policy to feature three new writers every quarter, and you'll be one of them. We'll also release the first three chapters a month ahead of the publish date, maybe get some orders before it's released. We're going to put it into general release and push it in our section for younger girls. The next one is a little more mature, so we'll keep it in general release. We estimate your first will be available September 1, and we will be pushing it a month before. It is also our policy to never release two books by the same writer less than six months apart. If we didn't, you would basically be competing with yourself for readers."

"Now for some really good news. We're totally owned by Loveland Publishers, and they're second only to Harlequin in romance publishers."

"My best analogy is this. If we were baseball, we would be the farm system. It's our job to spot and develop talent. When you're good enough, IF you're good enough, you get called up to the majors. In our case, if the amount of downloads for your books reaches a certain number, Loveland takes you. If that happens, you'll have to get an entertainment lawyer and an agent."

"The minimum return on a Loveland paperback is one hundred thousand, and most do two to three times that. And that doesn't include movie rights. The right studio picks you up, and you could get paychecks with six zeros behind it. How does that sound?"

"A little unreal, to be honest. I'd like to ask a few questions, if I may. How does the money end work? More importantly, how much do you think I'll make off the book? Just a ballpark figure."

I could hear the smile.

"I keep forgetting you're not a lamb. Realistically, it's hard to tell. As I said before, we've decided we'll put you in the featured writer section."

"That means you'll be one of three that are singled out. Again, the number of hits determine your income. I feel confident yours will do well, especially in the subgroup we're pushing you in. Teen girls are extremely loyal. You'll have a fan base by the time the second book comes out, so that one should double or triple the original numbers. Only time will tell."

"Realistically, you may make as little as five thousand up to more than fifty thousand on you first book in a year's time. Double that for your second book. I have a woman who has been writing for me for eight years now. She usually puts out three books a year, and averages between one hundred sixty and two hundred thousand a year. Not a bad income, wouldn't you say?"

Not a bad income indeed.

"Before I ring off, we need to talk about your name."

"What's wrong with my name?"

She sighed.

"It's a mans' name. Ninety eight per cent of romance readers are women. They identify with women. We'd like you to write under a female name. There are certain words women identify with. How does Samantha Strong sound?"

"Wasn't there a porn actress in the eighties with the same name? What kind of message would that send?"

"I doubt if twelve to seventeen year old girls would know that. All I'm trying to do is get the readers to buy."

We argued about it, and compromised by agreeing to use my first initial and let them guess.

..............................................

I followed her instructions to the letter. I finished the second book and was on the final editing when she gave me one of her rare phone calls. I had asked her to use my cell, I would answer quicker and was still intent on surprising Sheila.

"Well, Larry, you've fulfilled your contract. I think you're probably the best writer I've come across in a long time. We'd like to offer you another contract, for three books this time, contingent on the numbers of your first novel."

I was hesitant. Realistically, I didn't want to do this for a living. It was more of a hobby that I thought I could maybe make a little money out of. Three spiral bound notebooks on my computer desk were filled with outlines for five more books, so I wasn't out of ideas.

"I'll have to think about that. Let's wait until the first book has been out for, say, six months, and talk again."

She was shocked. Apparently nobody had ever turned her down. It took about five minutes before she understood I was serious. There was no friendliness in her tone when she said goodbye.

................................................

The book came out on schedule. I resisted it for a week before I checked the account. There was a little over three thousand dollars in it, meaning at least a thousand had been sold. In a month, nine thousand more sold. My editor called, giddy.

"Congratulations, your book was our top seller for a debut offering this month, and top seller overall. Judging by these figures, you may exceed a hundred thousand this year, before taxes. If you do, you'll be the only first time writer to reach that mark. You may not get another contract from me. Loveland is paying attention. Remember what I said, if that happens you'll be making some serious money."

She sighed.

"I wish I could keep you. And a heads up, somebody from Lifetime read your book. Somebody high enough up the food chain to do something about it. We've had overtures, wanting to get in touch with your agent. Now would be a good time to get one, and that entertainment lawyer we talked about."

We talked for a few more minutes, and as a gesture of gratitude I promised to sign the three book contract. It would keep her standing in the organization high, and if Loveland didn't sign me I had a fall back.

..................................................



Our rekindled intimacy faltered again. It got so bad she was barely civil to me.

I tried to be understanding, I tried to be calm. I tried to be reasonable, but sometime after the two hundreth rant about something insignificant, something snapped.

"SHEILA! Do me a favor, shut the hell up! I don't give a rat's ass on the subject and I'm not going to debate it with you. In fact, I'm not going to debate anything with you, ever again. If you can no longer hold a civil conversation with me, stop talking. Good night!"

I stomped off to the bedroom and slammed the door. She never came to bed that night.

I was still pissed when I got home, so I fixed something simple, something I knew she wasn't fond of, ate by myself, and put the rest up. I hope she remembered how to use the microwave.

I was reading when she came in. She looked in the kitchen. I felt rather than saw her enter the living room.

"Are you ready to have dinner? Think you can do that without getting childish?"

Her attitude hadn't mellowed. When I told her I had already eaten she stomped into the kitchen and started rattling dishes. I stuck my head in the door.

"When you get done, clean up after yourself."

She went from red to purple to pale in the space of a minute. Before she could start I cut her off.

"I meant what I said yesterday, Sheila. If it's not civil it better not come out of your mouth. I've thought about it all day, we need some help, maybe counseling. I don't think we can get over this without it. I still love you, but you're not making it easy. Think about it, give me a decision tomorrow. Good night."

I went to bed. Three hours later I felt her slide into the bed, but she didn't try to touch. 

I got up, noticing the dirty dishes.

It was a rough day at work, vendors failed to deliver, customers were wanting delivery early, and I was stuck explaining everything and putting out fires. I was glad to get home.

Sheila wasn't home by nine. I didn't worry, sometimes she stopped for a drink with friends, but by eleven I was worried. She didn't answer her cell, none of her friends knew where she was. I was fearing the worst when she called.

"Sheila, are you all right? Where are you?"

"I'm at home, Roy."

"You're not making any sense, Sheila. I'm at home and you're definitely not here."

"No, I'm not at your home, I'm at my new apartment. I've decided we need some time apart."

My head was reeling.

"What? What are you doing?"

"Trying to decide if I want to stay married to you. We don't get along anymore, and I don't know why. Maybe if we spend a little time apart we can fix it."

"Sheila, I don't think that's a........"

"Good night, Roy. I'll call you in a couple of days."

She hung up. I called back and it went straight to voicemail. I was stuck. She wouldn't talk to me and I had no idea how to find her. I looked through the house. Most of her clothes were gone, a few pictures, little knick knacks she was fond of.

After a sleepless night, I called the hospital where she worked and asked for her. I finally got hold of her backup supervisor, and she told me she had taken two weeks vacation. So much for our trip to the Grand Canyon.

I worried. I sulked. Five days went by and she never called.

Then that night came a wave of anger so strong it scared me. Fuck her! Want to play games? Okey dokey, let them begin.

I called a lawyer recommended by a friend. She was supposed to be brutal. My appointment was at four.

She heard me out.

"What do you want? Do you want to burn her down? Scorch the earth under her feet? Or do you want something gentler, a nice split, everybody goes their own way? Or do you want her back?"

It stopped me cold. I realized I really didn't know what I wanted to do. I admitted as much.

She seemed to relax.

"All right, I propose you start like this. File for legal separation. It'll get her attention, and shorten your wait if you can't get back together. This will make her realize the potential consequences of her actions and talk to you. Now has she taken any unusual amounts of money out of your accounts? For your safety, if she hasn't, I can get the accounts froze, or you could just withdraw half and put it in separate account for now."

She went on for a little longer, asking about investments, retirement plans, did we still owe on our house, things of that nature. I gave her full disclosure and was just about to leave when it hit me.

'Uh, Ms Wright, I just remembered something. I have money in another account. I don't touch it, hardly think about it, but it's there. I know now that I'm a client you are bound to confidentiality, but I'm going to ask you to give me your word on this. Please don't be offended."

I could tell she was, slightly, until I told her the story. She started smiling just before I got done.

"I can't believe it! You're R. Smith! My daughter just read your book and raved about it. I'm in the middle of it now, so don't tell me anything.

So, how much money are we talking here?"

I finally smiled at her.

"I guess it would ruin your day to tell you they all turned out gay and joined the touring cast of a Broadway musical. Not really. At last count, and it changes daily, it was right at seventy two thousand, after tax, last week. Not a fortune, but it's growing everyday. Plus, in two months my second one comes out. Just a word of warning. I don't know how old your daughter is, but this one is much more adult."

She frowned thinking.

"If you divorce, you'll have to declare it, and most likely the second. I can hear the argument now, it was written while you were still married, so it's community property. Just want you know up front.

It was my turn to frown.

"All right, she's the reason I started writing in the first place. I may sign a contract for three more books in the near future, what happens then?"

She clicked her pen, a nervous habit.

"My best advice? Don't sign anything until you reconcile or divorce. If you divorce and sign, then she gets none of those monies. If you reconcile, it won't matter. Now, with your permission, I'll reach out to some contacts, try to find out where she is. If I do, should I have the papers served?"

I hesitated, then nodded yes. The die was cast. Let the chips lay where they fall. Yadda yadda yadda."

It helped fuel the fires when I checked the accounts the next day. She had already taken half.

.................................................

Sheila hadn't called me four days later. I tried and her number was changed.

Then Becky Wright called me.

"Found her. She's in a condo five blocks from the hospital she works at. Still want the papers served?"

"Damn skippy. And I want to be there when they are."

She argued against it and we compromised. She would tape it and I would watch it at her office.

It was actually pretty funny. They caught her as she was going to her car. She was dressed very nicely, much better than she had been the last few years with me, and was smiling.

The server approached, a young girl that looked like she was still in high school.

"My goodness, are you Sheila Smith?"

She said she was with a puzzled look on her face, trying to place her. The girl smiled again.

"You've been served." she said, handing her the papers.

Sheila's smile disappeared, replaced by wonder and then anger.

"That sonofabitch!"

She grabbed her cell phone and tried to call. It was funny watching her when she found it dead. I had cancelled it last night. Fuming, she got into her car and drove away.

Becky Wright smiled.

"Well, you got her attention. Let's see what she does. But I need to bring something to your attention. You don't get a condo like that overnight. She had been planning an exit for awhile. That means she'd made a decision to leave several weeks before, at least."

What she did was go on about a hundred rants on the phone. I didn't respond to any of them but kept them. I got a new phone, and only kept that one so she would have a contact number. We hadn't had a house phone in years.

She started calling me at work. I answered the first one and she started ranting. I hung up, asking the receptionist to explain to her that if she could keep a civil tongue in her head I would be glad to talk to her. When she explained it to her the first time she went on a rant and she hung up on her. 

Three days later she called again. In a subdued voice she asked if I had a minute. I shut the door to my office.

"What do you want Sheila?"

There was a few second of silence, then a little sob.

"How could you do that to me Roy? Serve me papers?

I only wanted a little space to figure out my life."

I wasn't in a sympathetic mood.

"Poor Sheila. I'm giving you all the space you want. I filed the papers to make my life simpler. Now, either way it goes, I'm protected. Nice of you to take only half the money, makes it a lot simpler down the line."

She was trying to explain.

"I was afraid you would get mad and keep me from it. It's my money too."

"Not any more, you already got your share. I moved what was left, so don't try to go back to that well. I have to go, so tell me what you want from me."

"I...I just wanted to talk to you. Please be patient. Please."

I could feel the anger rising, and I fought it.

"Go ahead, Sheila. Take all the time you need. If I'm still here when you want to come back we'll try to start over. But I need to make sure you understand. This separation isn't a get out of marriage free card that you can use to see others, then come back and say no harm no foul, we were separated. If I even think there's another man involved, there's no coming back.

Think about that while you find yourself."

I hung up.

................................................

Another five days went by before she called again.

"Why haven't you called?"

"Well Sheila, it has a lot to do with not having a number to call you at. All the contact point I have is the hospital, and you're still on vacation until tomorrow. I think I'll still go to the Grand Canyon. I'll send you pictures."

She started crying.

"Why are you making this so difficult? I'm sorry I messed up our vacation, but I needed this. But now you're ruining it. I end up brooding about you. Why are you so angry?"

I held my breath, counting to ten.

"Well, let's see. My wife of thirty two years turns into a screaming bitch, gets mad when I've had enough, moves out while I'm at work and won't tell me where she's at, and takes half our money.

On reflection, I can't fathom where the anger comes from."




You Can't Do That! Ch. 01



Sniffles.

"You don't have to be sarcastic. I fucked up. I admit it. Happy now? The time I wanted to take to clear my head is now so messed up I don't know what to do."

"Well, Sheila, I'll tell you what to do now. Hang up. I need to sleep, I'm not on vacation."

She slammed the phone, must have been on a land line.

I checked my messages the next day and Norbert wanted me to call back. I went into the office and closed the door.

"Miss Nora, how are you this fine morning?"

She was nothing if not consistent.

"Cut the cornpone, Little Abner. Where's my contract?"

I explained my marital woes.

"Great. Just ducky. Listen, you have a legal separation in place, right? Good. Check with an entertainment lawyer, but in my state any monies that come in after a legal separation are retained by the individuals. And the contract only calls for you to write the books. We won't expect the first one for eight months, you'll be back together or completely apart by then."

I thanked her for the advice and told her to send the contract. She sounded actually human for a minute when she hung up.

"Sorry Roy. I hope things work out for you."

...............................................

Things were getting really bad at wok. The recession was killing us. Orders had dwindled to a standstill. The owner called us into a meeting.

"We're going to take a three week break. We're working on some things, if even one of them bears fruit we'll have a six month backlog. I'm going to keep a skeleton crew, mostly maintenance, to get everything in top shape."

He went on for a little while before winding down. I thought about it that night, and the next day I turned in a vacation request for two weeks following the layoff. The plant manager was surprised but allowed it when I told him I wanted to do a little traveling.

"You and Sheila have a good time."

I grunted something and left.

I had gotten the lawyer Norbert had recommended, but not an agent. I asked, and he said I really didn't need one right now. He did incorporate me, saying it would protect me even more in case I divorced. Not wanting Sheila to know where I was, I had him rent a house for me.

It was on a lake in the mountains, a place I had loved when Sheila and I were younger. We never went there anymore.

Due to the economy and the season, he got me way more house than I needed for a reasonable amount. Two stories, with a basement, on a double lot. It was at the very tip of a small cove. Five bedrooms, a full gym in the basement, gourmet kitchen, it even had a pontoon boat docked at the pier. I loved it.

It was on the market, but no one was buying. They were happy to lease it to me for three months, way more than I needed it for, but at such an attractive price I couldn't refuse. The good part was my name wasn't on the lease anywhere, it was made out to my new corporation.

Sheila called and left a message giving me her new number. I called her back three days later.

"Roy, where are you?"

I wasn't giving her any information I didn't have to.

"I took some time off. I think I'll try to find myself."

She ignored the jab.

"No, I mean where are you physically?"

"Sheila, why does it matter? You planned to leave, leased a condo, moved your stuff and didn't have the decency to tell your husband. When were you going to tell me where you lived? Or were you? Doesn't matter. I'm returning the courtesy. Curiosity compels me to ask, have you found any resolution?"

"I'm working on it, Roy, please, don't try to hurry me."

"I think you should take all the time you need. But just so you know, I've set a limit. If you're still gone when I reach it, the separation papers turn to divorce papers. And before you ask, I'm not telling you when it is."

The shrew came back.

"Damn you Roy, if you think you can buffalo me..."

I hung up, and didn't answer the phone for a week. I settled into the house. One of the perks was a courtesy pass to the local country club, with a very good golf course. I hadn't seriously played in years, but I showed up, met the management, had a couple of drinks at the bar, ate at the restaurant, and enjoyed myself tremendously. The next day I was at the pro shop, picking up a nice set of clubs and shoes. I played twenty seven holes, pleased to see I hadn't lost much of my game, not that I was any good to start with. But I had a good time, playing with a few members for eighteen, doing the back nine by myself. For the time of year the course was in excellent shape.

I was so sore it hurt to move the next morning. I decided to dust off the exercise equipment in the basement that afternoon. I started slowly, but in three weeks I was hitting them for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening.

I lost fifteen pounds, and my golf game improved.

Tired of my thinning hair, I went to a barber and had it shaved off. I grew a goatee and mustache, because I had always wanted to. I was surprised when it came in, the hair was almost completely white.

Sheila called me twice a week but never said anything of consequence, or offered to meet physically. She still tried to find me, even asked my lawyer. Since she didn't know exactly where I was, she could honestly say so.

I forced the issue on her last call.

"I'm going to be home next week. I expect to see you. It doesn't need to be at the house, pick a neutral spot we can agree on, and I'll be there. Refuse, and I turn my lawyer loose."

She complained, she whined, but ultimately agreed.

She picked the most expensive restaurant in town. I surprised her by agreeing.

I went back to the house. It smelled empty and...old. It didn't smell like a home anymore.

I didn't stock the fridge, I didn't intend to be there that long. In fact, I never intended to live there again. If we got back together, it would be somewhere else, somewhere we could start new memories without the ghosts of the old ones hanging over us. 

She was there before I was. I almost didn't recognize her. She had dyed her hair a lighter color and lost weight. She really looked good, but as I got closer I could see hard lines on her face, the habitual frown she carried seemed deeper. It was not the face of a happy person.

It pleased me that she didn't recognize me until I was almost at the table. She didn't offer a hug, didn't get up. She sat there with her mouth hanging open.

"Roy! My goodness, I almost didn't recognize you. When did you shave your head and grow a beard? Not that it doesn't look good on you."

No I miss you, no I love you, just observations about my appearance. I returned the compliment, hitting on her weight loss and hair color. She patted it selfconsciously.

"I wanted something a little different, you know?"

We ordered. I had a good appetite while she just picked at her food. I ordered coffee, and while we had it I asked her if she had found herself yet.

She hung her head.

"Not yet. Please, don't pressure me. I'm working on it.

"How exactly are you working on it? Long hours of selfexamination? Therapy? Counseling? What are you doing to move forward?"

"Well, I've been talking to friends, and they've been giving me advice."

"That's it? Are these people professionals? Any of them qualified in any field that could actually be of use to you? If all they're giving you is opinions, I'm reminded of the old saying.

Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one and they're all full of shit. The clock is ticking, Sheila."

I sat there, watching my love for her start dying as she sniffled. When I couldn't take anymore, I settled the check, wished her a good night, and left.

I thought about it, she hadn't once offered to touch me, and seemed to flinch when I touched her arm.

................................................

I worked a week at the end of my vacation, then was off for two weeks. I immediately went back to the lake house.

Before I left I talked to my lawyer.

"The term for the legal separation is almost up. What do you want me to do?"

"File."

"Are you sure?"

I sighed.

"I'm sure. If something happens to change us, I can always stop it. And, just for the heck of it, get some investigators and watch her for a week or so. I'm curious what her brand new life is like."

We talked some about my writing. My first book topped over a hundred thousand so far, net, the fastest ever for the site. My second came out, and got twenty thousand downloads the first three weeks, at seven ninety five. My writing account was doing very nicely.

My entertainment lawyer was talking to Lifetime, but was getting overtures from film companies. He found himself in a small bidding war, and was pitting them against each other with understated skill. So far, it was up to eight hundred thousand. I was staggered.

I thought about it for a week, quit my job, and made an offer on the lake house. Whatever Sheila and I decided, I was going to live there. Money was now no problem, although we were comfortable before.

My decision was made for me when Becky called.

"I got the investigators' report."

"What does it say?"

I could hear the reluctance in her voice.

"You need to come by the office."

I let the silence linger for a bit.

"That bad?"

Another silence.

"Yes."

I'll be there tomorrow morning, if you have time for me."

"I'll set aside an hour. Ten all right?"

................................................

"His name is Morgan Feldman. He's an E.R. doctor at her hospital. He's sixty one, just a little older than you."

She slid me a picture. An ordinary looking man, with a fringe of hair around an almost completely bald head. I wasn't impressed.

"He's married. Four children and five grandchildren. His son is a doctor at the other hospital here in town. His wife is a top executive at Harmony Enterprises, and travels a good bit. She has the money in the marriage."

She showed me a picture of a very nice looking woman in her middle fifties. Sheila was attractive, especially to me, but she would never be in the same class. Made me wonder.

"He's a serial womanizer, your wife is just the latest. The average length of his dalliances is about six months, so your wife is close to her expiration date."

"He's very good at cheating. We put an operative on the cleaning crew at the hospital, and he snapped a few pictures as they ducked into empty rooms. I don't think they did anything past kissing, there wasn't time, although our man got one photo of them when they thought the curtain in the room was closed."

"Same at the condo. They never enter together. Usually she goes out, and half an hour later he comes in. He rides three floors past, then comes down on another elevator. If there's anyone in the hall he walks by. If he's clear, he let's himself in with his own key. A few minutes later she returns. He usually stays from an hour to half a day. Once overnight. They're never seen together in the hall, but we do have a shot where she opens the door after he leaves to hand him a briefcase. She looks up and down the hall, then opens her robe, giggling, and shuts the door." 

"How did you get all this?"

She grinned. 

"Money and luck. One of our operatives showed up at the condo complex, identifying himself as a representative of the security service they use, offering to audit their security system and make suggestions for improvement, purely as a courtesy. He had them call the security company, where he was directed to a man who vouched for him."

"He made copies of the last month and a half of security footage, and then his team examined it. The security company actually got some business out of it, making several upgrades."

"You've already filed, what do you want me to do now?"

I thought for a moment.

"Expedite it. Offer her a straight fifty fifty split. She can have the house, I don't want to live there anymore. If she doesn't want it, we'll put it up for sale and split the money. If she fights it, tell her to get a damn good lawyer. I'll drag it out for years if I have to, bleed her dry. And tell her to expect a package from me that will explain things."

She looked me over.

"I have to advise you against doing anything reckless or stupid. You know we can't use the condo footage, legally. I'll keep the operatives digging. Maybe they can get someone to verify the affair."

I actually smiled. I don't think she expected it.

"All I'm going to do is send her a photo and a short message."

It was the photo of her flashing her lover. I had written across it in big red letters.

"TIME EXPIRED."

I sent it to the hospital.

.................................................

The phone calls started three days after she got the photo. It was reported she collapsed with it in her hands and a few people saw it, enough to get the gossip mill going. She was off work on a two week medical leave.

I thought she wouldn't have the nerve, but she started calling three and four times a day, sometimes more, begging me to talk to her.

I snapped when I got the last message. She said it was a one time thing, she did it because she was lonely and missing me. I actually called her back. I was on her before she got hello out of her mouth.

"A one time thing? You mean one time just for that day, right? Was it just a one time thing all the other times? The good doctor losing a step, staying power not what it used to be? Surely he knows there's pills to fix that."

I had memorized the dates he had visited her, especially the night he stayed over. She was gasping and stuttering when I finished.

"Give it up Sheila, you're stone cold busted. Admit it, if you weren't fucking him before you left me, you were planning on it as soon as you got settled in to your love nest."

She was trying to explain when I shut her down again.

"Give it up. I know the hospital knows about your little adventure. The only reason you both still have your jobs is there's no proof anything happened there. What do you think the chances of continued employment would be if I showed up with some photos of you playing kissy face with the good doctor in some of the empty rooms, and hinted strongly about a lawsuit?"

"To quote Bruce Willis, it would be 'Happy trails, motherfucker.'"

"Agree to the terms, Shela, while you still have a chance to walk away with something. Three weeks, Sheila, then I go to the hospital and afterwards have a little show and tell with Mrs. Dr. Feldman. Up to you, and don't call me again. Call my lawyer. Goodbye Sheila, I hope you have a horrible, empty, loveless rest of your life."

Okay, the last was a bit over the top, but I was in a lot of pain. I turned my old cell phone off and put it in a drawer.

My offer was accepted on the lake house. I was now a full time writer with a mortgage. I had finished the first draft of my third novel, and got a call from Miss Nora.

"This one isn't up to the standard the other two set, but it's readable, and we have a few months to polish it. Divorced yet?"

"I'm working on it."

"Well. Sorry, and I do mean that. I've got something I need you to think about. Your books are really good, but kind of tame. Ever heard of erotica? Fifty Shades Of Gray ring any bells?"

"Only in general terms. You'd have to be living under a rock not to hear about that book. Where are you going with this?"

"Erotica is really hot right now. Sex sells baby, remember that saying. It's a fact, and if you can write it well you can make a lot of money."

I was joking when I said "Miss Nora, for the right amount of money, I'll write something so hot it'll melt your panties off right at your desk".

It was the first time I ever heard her truly laugh.

"You do that, Roy, and we'll both make a load of money. I've sent you four sites I want you go to. They're for amateur writers of erotica. Go on them, read a few stories, get a feel for it. Write a few, it'll be good practice."

"Just a word of caution. Many on these sites are decent writers, and a very few are outstanding. But most of the stories are like reading a porn movie, screw and sucks with no character development. If you can't get your readers invested in the characters, they're not going to read your stories, and more importantly, if they do they won't remember them. Most have a rating system of some kind, my advice is to read only the top twenty percent. Email me when you post yours, and I'll read them. Any one could be the nucleus for your next book. I'll be sure to wear my fireproof panties." 

I did go on the sites, picking what I thought was the best. I read them for a week before attempting a story. It was only moderately successful, but future postings were better received as I came to grips with the short story format. I often did them when I was stuck on a particular passage in my regular books, they helped clear my head, enabling me to concentrate better.

The three weeks passed and Becky called me.

"She wants a face to face, and she wants you to go to counseling together. If you agree, I'll get the number of sessions set as low as possible. It'll look good if we have to go to court. Speaking of that, I'm going to propose a trade. You talk, go to counseling, and if you still want a divorce, we skip court and go directly to arbitration. I recommend it. It's cheaper, doesn't take as long, and if you agree to it you have to accept the decision of the arbitrator and can't challenge it in court. It's also usually a lot less bloody, they do a really good job not letting things get out of hand."

"Just so you know, nobody wins at arbitration, just like if we were to go to court. Both of you will lose some things, win others, but in the end it'll be a deal you can both live with. Are you game?"

I thought about it for a minute.

"Is this the quickest way?"

"No, Roy, it's not. But it's the best and usually the cheapest. I recommend it."

"Where do you fit in, Becky?"

"Once you agree to arbitration, I'm basically out, unless you want me to advise you on an informal basis."

"All right, do it. But I still consider you my lawyer, and I will seek your opinion."

She laughed and thanked me.

"It really is the best way, Roy. And I'll still be glad to send you a bill from time to time. How's the writing?"

I told her my third was finished, about the negotiations for the movie rights to the first one, and my little adventure in erotica, giving her the site and my pen name.

"I don't know if that sort of thing offends you, but if it doesn't, read a few and tell me what you think. Set the meeting."

.................................................

This is the end of part one. Thanks for reading, I haven't posted in Loving Wives for awhile. I've been off writing my pseudo epic, The Hogue Chronicles, trying to use as many sections of this genre as I can. I've already posted the first four chapters, in Transsexual/Crossdresser, BDSM, Group Sex, and Mature, in that order. Future chapters will be in Non Erotic, Non Consent, Incest Taboo, and the final chapter, of course, will be in Loving Wives. 

It's been fun so far, but the thing I've missed is the feedback. The people who read those sites aren't nearly as vocal as you guys.

That being said, feel free to comment or vote, they are appreciated.

QHML1



You Can't Do That! Ch. 02



All right, this is where I pause so the people who complained that there was no sex in the last one can get vocal. Wait for it, wait for it....now. Feel better?

I'll say it again, the most powerful sex organ is the brain. I put it in loving wives because it's the classic story, man loves, man loses, man moves on. Statistic show at least sixty percent of you out there reading have gone through it, some, like me, more than once. 

And now, resolution. 

.................................................

"Are you ready?"

I looked over at my lawyer, remembering again how much she looked like my freshman science teacher. I told her that once and I think she didn't like it, until I told her she was the hottest teacher in school. She perked up after that.

We were in her conference room, I was pacing while she sat on the table swinging one long stockinged leg, her three inch heel dangling from her toe. I grinned. She noticed.

"What was that about?"

"She sat on the conference table, swinging her long, stockinged leg, shoe dangling. A seductress, hidden in a business suit, waiting to pounce on her next victim. Does she do it on purpose? Or does all that suppressed sexuality demand release at odd and inopportune times?"

"How does sound as a passage in one of my stories?"

She blushed a little and grinned wickedly, swishing her skirt high enough to make sure I knew she had on thigh highs. She was forty three, looked thirty three, and acted twenty five when she wasn't working. We had developed an easy friendship over the last few months.

"You better make her prettier than me."

"My prose isn't that good. Impossible you know, to improve on perfection, Becky dear."

She actually blushed again.

"You're a dirty old man disguised as a writer."

"I've become many things over the past months. An admirer of beauty, for instance."

"Stop it! It's gonna be hard enough to keep a straight face as it is. Behave. And remember, watch me, If I don't like what you're saying, I'll give you a head shake."

Her assistant opened the door.

"They've arrived. I put on the coffee, water will be in the bar fridge."

Becky looked at me.

"Ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Showtime."

Sheila didn't look so hot. She had gained the weight she'd lost back since I had seen her last, plus a few pounds. Her hair was pulled back with a band, not a good look for her.

I had no idea how I looked to her. I had grown my mustaches and goatee out until I looked like a shaven headed Buffalo Bill. I liked it, and one thing about having money, even a little, is that most times you only have to impress yourself. I was leaner than she saw me last, in better shape. Golf and my home gym took care of that.

I looked at her and tried to remember the hot coed I had bedded in college, her hair down past her ass, her proud breasts never feeling the constriction of a bra, willing and eager to make love, any time, almost anywhere.

I had showed Kelsie a photo I had of her then, wearing cutoffs and a thin halter top, smiling that killer smile as her hair swirled in the wind. I think it was the first time she realized we weren't born old.

"Gramps, she was hot!"

I totally agreed.

What really threw her was a picture of me. She looked at it and asked who it was. I had on a tyedyed t shirt, bell bottoms with a huge flair, had a beard, wire rim glasses and hair past my shoulders. I laughed.

"It was the early seventies, baby. Look it up. I was pretty average back then."

She took both pictures home with her.

I smiled at the thought of her then and she misread it, thinking it was for her now. She smiled back. I put my serious face on, determined to get this over with. She looked apprehensive and nervous again.

Becky thanked them for coming, offering them water or coffee. I waited until the were seated, then took a seat opposite.

Becky cleared her throat.

"If you're ready, we'll discuss the settlement agreement first."

Sheila spoke up before her lawyer could stop her.

"I don't want a settlement. I want my husband back."

I shocked them all, I think, when I asked her "Why? Why do you want me back now, after you made our last two years hell, left like a thief in the night, hid from me, took half our money, all so you could fuck another man. You said you were looking for yourself. Tell me, Sheila, did you find yourself on the end of his cock? Has he left you yet, did you hit your expiration date? If you like, I can show you my investigators report, you weren't the first nurse to keep the lonely doctor company while his wife traveled."

She sobbed and Becky shushed me.

"You're not helping things, Roy."

I thought I could control my temper but couldn't.

"I'm not here to help. I'm here to end things so I can go on with my life. I'm sure Sheila wants to get on with finding herself, this should help her."

We took a break and she took me out in the hall and ate me up. Her finger was in my face.

"Another outburst like that, and you'll need new representation. Now, promise me you'll stick to the game plan."

I apologized and we went back in.

Sheila tried to get everyone back on track.

"Mrs. Smith, I'm very sorry, but your husband just does not want to continue this marriage. He's a fair man, and really doesn't want you to suffer. We all make mistakes and have to live with them. He's willing to split all assets evenly, and is also willing to give you the house if you wish it. Is there anything in particular you want?"

Sheila had managed to remain calm.

"I want my life back. I know I threw it away, but I'm willing to walk through the fires of hell if that what it takes. I'll quit my job, never leave the house, bow and scrape if I have to."

Nobody spoke for a second. I drew in a breath but Becky put her hand over mine. Sheila saw it and her eyes narrowed. To rub it in I took her hand and squeezed it, holding it for a few seconds.

Becky caught on and snatched her hand away, frowning. I wasn't helping myself.

Her lawyer spoke for the first time.

"The whole reason we agreed to this sit down was for my client to have a thirty minute conversation with her husband. She freely admits her affair and lack of reasonable behavior, but there were extenuating circumstances. If she isn't going to be allowed that chance, we'll leave, counselor, and see you in court."

Becky became placating again.

"My client will honor this agreement, if you honor yours. In this envelope is full disclosure of my clients' finances. I think yours will be surprised. Also, the conversation will be recorded, and we will each take a tape immediately after. Agreed?"

He didn't like it, but it was in the agreement. They left, placing two cassette recorders on the table. Becky pulled a timer out of the sideboard and handed it to me. I set it for thirty minutes, and started it as soon as the door closed.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"Sheila, you've already wasted close to three minutes. If you've got something to say, better start soon."

She spent five minutes crying, five minutes explaining, five minutes apologizing, five minutes begging. I answered when I thought it was appropriate. In the end she was exhausted and I stood firm.

"You know what you haven't said? I'll never do anything like that again. Not in those exact words. And that's what it's gonna take. Know why? Because you can't. Our lawyers don't know our history. So, until you can tell me that and I can look in your eyes and believe it, there's never going to be a chance we'll get back together. Please Sheila, we had a good run. Let it go so we can both move on."

"Please Roy, you can't do that. Try, please."

The meeting was pretty much was over then. After Becky stopped chewing me out, I kissed her soundly, apologized sincerely, and invited her and her husband up to the house for the weekend.

"The lawyer stood, ample chest heaving with emotion, as her enigmatic client strode from the room regretfully, knowing the hot vixen would never be his. Damn morals, he thought..."

I didn't get to finish the thought as a law book slammed into the wall beside the door, followed by the laughter of Becky and her assistant.

"I better get royalties!" she yelled after me.

................................................

We had become friends over the months. She and her husband were both in their early forties with a teen daughter. I had them up to the house twice before. Seems her husband Jack was an avid fisherman, and when I mentioned the pontoon boat came with the house he almost salivated. We spent a pleasant morning working the coves, while Becky, her daughter, and Kelsie and a few of her friends sunned.

I finally told Kelsie what her determined actions had resulted in, after picking her up from school. She was stunned and thrilled alternately, both at the money and the house.

She wandered through it, looking at everything. When she saw the patio layout with the outdoor kitchen she was speechless.

I took her down to the little independent grocery and she watched, thrilled, as a butcher cut meat to her exact specifications. We stopped at a produce stand and bought fresh vegetables to use for sides.

After our feast, we sat and talked about her future. Her grades in community college were near perfect.

"You know, Kelsie. I can afford to send you anywhere you want to go. You get a car and spending money as long as you maintain your grades. Think about it, look around, do what's best for Kelsie."

She cried herself to sleep. I gave up trying to get her to stop, got a blanket and wrapped it around her to ward off the coolness of the evening, and left her. She stayed with me a week before she went home, swearing not to let anyone know where I was or what I was doing.

She was disappointed that her grandmother and I weren't together. She spent the night with her now and then, said she was sad all the time. I never commented.

I was a regular at the country club. I made friends, played golf if it was weather fit two or three times a week, and socialized. I ate at the restaurant twice a week on average. I knew the guys at the grocery store, the names of the guys that ran the gas station I used, and a couple of farmers I met while buying produce. I was integrating, becoming part of the community. I was just Roy, the retired guy that bought the Kessler house. 

When I quit my health insurance stopped, so I used the agent that sold me homeowners and car insurance to set me up with a family policy. I included my son, Kelsie, my ex daughter, and Sheila, telling them I got a good rate if I used the family plan. They all bought the story, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I redid my third book completely, making it a much better read. Miss Nora wasn't surprised when Loveland came calling. Out of loyalty, I made sure she got to publish the book online, dedicating it to her. I don't know if she appreciated it or not, she was the most unemotional woman I had ever met. I did find out she won some kind of award and got a nice promotion later. I like to think I contributed to her success.

Sheila and her lawyer got cute, trying to renege on their promise to go to arbitration instead of court. I was set to burn her down, make her lose her job, but Becky stopped me.

"So she loses her job. Whoopee. It'll make you feel good for what, five minutes? Then you'll be divorcing an unemployed house wife instead of a well paid professional. It'll cost you more than the satisfaction you'll get, paying her alimony. Let's hope she doesn't figure it out and quit for spite. If you lose sight of what you're after, resolution over revenge, it'll get long, costly, and more painful"

So I left her alone. But the rumor mill continued to grind, kept alive by her pending divorce. Eventually it got to the point where management had to address it. They gave her and Dr. Feldman a week of paid leave while they considered what to do. Word got out they were going to fire her and give the good doctor a slap on the wrist.

Her lawyer called Becky, Becky called me. She, Sheilas' attorney, and I paid a little unannounced visit to the director. Becky told him flat out if she was fired lawsuits would descend like an avalanche.

"We have three affidavits from nurses he had affairs with before Mrs. Smith, evidence he was the aggressor in the relationships, and that inappropriate contact occurred in the workplace. Our clients are determined to file suit if Mrs. Smith is adversely affected. Think of the damage to the image your hospital projects. We intend to name and sue you separately as director, for allowing this kind of behavior to occur despite hospital policy."

She paused for breath as his eyes got bigger.

"Or, we could all just go away and let it go, provided Mrs. Smith is treated with respect. But you still might want to do something about Dr. Feldman, before he lands you in a situation that can't be dealt with privately."

In the end, to allow them to get rid of Dr. Feldman, they had to demote her. She agreed and became a regular shift nurse.

Mrs. Dr. Feldman finally got tired of her husband and transferred to the West Coast to head their operations there. It was a huge promotion, and since she provided the money for their lifestyle, he went from a three million dollar estate to a one bedroom townhouse. He lost his priviliges at his old hospital, and just barely, thanks to his son, got them at the other hospital in town, after agreeing to a probationary period.

So now his life semi sucked. Was I happy about it? Yes, in a way. He deserved it for being a predatory asshole. That being said, my wife was an intelligent woman who could have said no at any time during the seduction. If it hadn't been him, it would have been somebody else.

In the end I agreed to three months of marriage counseling, meeting twice weekly and once individually, after it was made ironclad that after that, If I still wanted the divorce it would be granted.

...............................................

My therapist didn't like me much.

Her name was Dr. Patricia Wills. Her reconciliation rate was a source of great satisfaction to her.

She was always smiling, emphatic, and just as irritating as possible.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet, Roy. I like to keep things informal, so...."

I held up my hand.

"You can stop right there Patricia, Patty, Tricia, Trish, whatever you go by. You will address me as Mr. Smith, I will address you as Dr. Wills. This is a business arrangement, we're not friends meeting for drinks after work. Keep it professional and this will pass much faster for us."

She eyed me critically.

"That's going to make it harder to establish a rapport. It appears to me you don't want to be here. I can go back to the court and..."

I stopped her again.

"Dr. Wills, you're not being professional. Have you even read the agreement between my wife and I? These sessions aren't court ordered, but I did sign a contract agreeing to meet with you for the specified time. Whether I participate, despite what you may recommend, it ends at the agreed upon time, and if I still want the divorce it becomes automatic. And my lawyer worded the contract very carefully. It says I'm obligated to attend, not participate. That being said, I'm curious about some things so I most likely will participate."

"Understand, this is important. You have no power over me. You have the same standing my butcher or mechanic at home have. You're a professional I'm using for a specific task. All right?"

I used up most of my first session establishing my ground rules. She was not happy.

I have no idea what her sessions with Sheila was like. Our first two joint sessions were pretty tame, mostly her apologizing. I told the doctor if we didn't get past that I was going to bring a book or tablet to the rest of the sessions.

My next individual session she changed gears, having me tell how we fell in love.

.................................................. It was 1972, and I was eighteen years old. Barely missing the messiness and destruction of Southeast Asia, I had gotten an academic scholarship to study business. I was always a bit of a wild child, raised in a single family home after my dad was killed in a car crash. We didn't get much insurance so Mom worked long hours in a furniture factory to pay the bills. As soon as I turned sixteen I got a job in the same factory, working four hours a night Monday through Thursday, eight hours Friday night, and coming in at six in the morning on Saturday to work six more. After I had been there a while my boss would let me work an extra hour here and there and full shifts if school was out, so I was basically working forty hours a week and attending high school at the same time. High school was easy for me, mostly. Loved English, History, and Science, wasn't so great at math.

When I started working I footed my own bills and took a lot of the burden off Mom. I bought my own car, clothes, even paid for groceries a lot of times. When you worked the hours I did there wasn't a whole lot of time to spend money. I dated a lot on Saturday nights, but it didn't go anywhere because teen girls liked their boys to talk to them on the phone, go to school events and games during the week, and generally be available. I wasn't.

The scholarship came from the company I worked for. I saw a notice on the bulletin board urging workers to have their children apply. My boss saw me looking at it.

"Got any kids college age?" He said with a grin.

"No, but does it have to be a child? Can it be an employee?"

He looked at me like it was something no one had ever thought of.

"I don't see why not."

I forgot about it, but three days later the plant manager stopped by on his way home and gave me some papers.

"What are these?"

"Your scholarship application. Bill said you were interested. It's self explanatory, just get your teachers to fill out their part quickly. The faster you get it back, the more time we have to consider you."

I didn't think I had a chance in hell, but my teachers helped me out, and I had a good interview with the screening committee. I was still surprised when I got it.

Mom was over the moon. Her son, a college man! She showed me a savings account she had started when I was four, just for college.

She got to keep most of the the money, they paid for everything and got me a part time job at their local plant. The hours I got to work were tied to my grade average. The higher the average, the more hours I could work. If they dropped, I was practically unemployed. I averaged twenty four hours. She did insist on buying me a better car.

Like I said, it was 1972, the tail end of the muscle car era. Camaros, Mustangs, GTOs, Chevelles were all popular. My car was a little different.

I had a 1969 Dodge Polara. Called the four door Roadrunner, it was built for and sold specifically to law enforcement agencies. I got mine at a state auction where they were auctioning off old patrol cars. It wasn't painted as a cop car, being called an "unmarked". It had a 383 interceptor engine with a stock four barrel carb, do 0 to 60 in just over six seconds, and be close to a hundred in a quarter mile. The specially calibrated TorqueFlite automatic transmission was designed to stand up to the high horsepower and torque. It had heavy duty suspension and radials tires, in a time when they were just getting popular. At first glance, it looked like the kind of full size four door car your grandfather would drive. There wasn't a lot I couldn't bust going from stoplight to stoplight.

We were in the next town over, cruising the burger joints, checking out girls. Billy was complaining we should have taken his Mustang when a Chevelle pulled up beside us. The guy had three girls with him. It had glass packs and he was revving his engine, laughing.




You Can't Do That! Ch. 02



"Grandpa know you got his car out?"

I just smiled, pulled a twenty out of my pocket, held it up, popped it twice so he could see the denomination, and laid it on the dash. Twenty bucks was serious cash back then, especially to a college student. He was so surprised that when the stoplight changed he missed it, and I pulled sedately away. We could hear the girls laughing.

He pulled up beside me again, his pride hurt.

"You're on!" he yelled, putting a twenty on his dash, roaring and popping.

He didn't have a chance. When the light changed and I put my foot in that four barrel, we were gone. He was fishtailing while my stabilizer bars kept me right on track.

We pulled over in a grocery store parking lot.

"I can't fucking believe it! What the hell is this thing?"

Soon we had the hoods of both popped, swapping stories. It worked out pretty well, he had two extra girls and I had one extra guy.

It was a warm evening at the beginning of summer. Everybody had their windows down, radio blasting.

I was into the cars and didn't pay much attention at first. He was trying to talk me into going to another location, doing the same thing we had done, running me in as a ringer and cleaning up on side bets.

Billy was urging me on. He had an eye for the short blonde in the back seat.

"C'mon, I'll ride with them, the other girl can ride with you. Maybe we'll get a little pussy out of the deal."

I was laughing, saying I bet she was a dog, when the brunette finally got out of the car.

She was trying to untangle her mass of waist length, curly hair and pull it back. Her skimpy halter top was riding over the bottom of her midsized, perky breasts, straining against erect nipples. She got her hair in order and looked at me. Her cut off jeans just barely contained her ass cheeks.

"Hi" she said grinning and extending her hand, "I'm Sheila. Woof."

Shit! A stone cold fox had just heard me say she was probably a dog. I went bright red and stuttered while everyone else fell back laughing.

She accepted my apology, let me buy her a bottle of wine, and was in the front seat for the rest of the night. The girls were nursing students at our college, which explained why our paths didn't cross before. 

Billy did indeed get some pussy that night, but I didn't. By the time we got back to the apartment they shared with two others, she was passed out. I got to carry her in and put her on the couch. I didn't even get a kiss.

The next day she was at my apartment, holding her head. I didn't see anyone else.

"How did you know where I lived? How did you get here?"

Still holding her head, she walked by me and lay down on the couch.

"Sabrina dropped me when she brought Billy home. I felt bad, passing out on you last night. I came by to see if you were as cute sober. Can I have some water and a few aspirin?"

I got it for her, darkened the shades, and she lay back. She promptly fell asleep. She slept for three hours and woke up with a start.

"Where the hell am I?"

I had been in the kitchen, studying.

"You're at my house. Remember me? Sabrina brought you over just before noon. Apparently you needed a little more sleep."

She went bright red, then giggled.

"Well, I guess that'll teach you not to let me drink two bottles of wine. I'm hungry."

She used the bathroom, neatened up a bit, and we went to a little place close by. She looked at me.

"I don't think a greasy burger or pizza would go over too well. That and sandwiches are the extent of my culinary skills."

The place was quietly famous for their homemade soups and breads. According to what type soup you ordered, sometimes the loaf was the bowl. It was filling, good, and fairly cheap. She had never been there.

Feeling human again, we went to the park and hung out, talking to each other and whatever friends happened by. A couple guys she knew came by with guitars, and we sat around and sang. She had a good voice. It's one of my better memories.

I asked her if she was ready to go home and she said she'd like to go back to my place for awhile. I had no problem. She made me stop at a store and came back with a twelvepack and some chips.

We drank two beers when she went into the bathroom. I was surprised when I heard the shower running. Even more surprised when she called out to me. But I was most surprised when she opened the door and stood there naked.

"We need towels" she said in a calm voice. She turned and walked back towards the shower. I was dumbstruck, watching that incredibly cute ass sway back and forth. She looked over her shoulder and grinned.

"You coming or what?"

It definitely wasn't what.

She was the type of woman who inspired so many goofy love songs of that era. Long, lean, all hard nipples and soft pussy. She had a thick bush, women didn't shave back then, but what was under it was heaven.

We were young, enthusiastic, and soon, in love. It was almost the end of our freshman year, and she lived with me the last four weeks.

It was hard on us that first summer, being apart. I stayed in town and worked in the factory. Since Sheila wasn't around I worked massive amounts of overtime. She had already lined up a job at a rest home near her parents, to gain nursing experience. She hated it.

She came back two weeks early to surprise me. I came in from work and she was sitting on the couch naked.

"I didn't want to waste time" she said, as she dragged me to the shower.

I didn't work anymore overtime.

She moved in, not even pretending to live with her friends. Her parents didn't like it when they found out, but by then most of the year was gone.

We lived together all the way through college and a year beyond. It all fell apart in late 1977.

I had an entry level job at a new company. It wasn't really what I wanted, but it would look good on a resume. I worked hard, putting in extra hours, trying to make a good impression.

She had a job at the local hospital, general duties mostly, although she liked to work in the birthing rooms and with children.

We were in a nice apartment, and she insisted on splitting the bills, minus car payments, so I was saving a good bit, looking to the future. Sooner or later we would want kids, and I wanted a nice place to raise them.

Them she suddenly changed to night shift. She said she didn't have a lot of choice. I hated it.

We had the evenings together and that was all the contact we had until the weekend. She left at ten, and I was gone when she got home. I didn't have any experience with that sort of things, but the signs were there. Moodiness, disrespect, sometimes she wouldn't be home when I called on my first break. She said she was asleep. A reasonable explanation, but I knew she couldn't go home and go straight to sleep. It usually took her two or three hours to wind down.

It came to a head when I proposed. She was shocked.

She didn't say no, exactly, but she didn't say yes.

"Why rush? We're in love, that's not going away. We have plenty of time."

"We're not rushing, Sheila. We've been together five years. It's time to move to the next phase of our life. Don't you want kids?"

She fidgeted.

"Yes, of course I do. But we have plenty of time. We're still young. Let's enjoy each other a bit longer."

I thought for a second.

"Let me get this straight in my mind. You say we'll marry, but not right now. We'll have kids, someday, on your schedule. Where is this coming from? Sounds like you have doubts about spending the rest of out lives together. Anything else on your mind I need to know about?"

She burst into tears and hid in the bedroom. Things went downhill pretty fast. I came home a month later to find her moved out. She left a letter.

"Dear Roy,

Please don't be mad. I've been feeling restless lately, like I'm missing something. I've talked to my friends. and I've decided I need a little space. I need to find myself before I can commit to a life long relationship. I still love you.

Please, give me this time. I'll be back before you know it."

I was heart broken. Then I was angry. We still had a lot of friends in common, and soon word got back to me. She was finding herself with the help of one of the doctors she worked with.

She would call me, and I would hang up. I know, childish. I didn't care.

She saw me at a club and was pissed beyond words I was there with a date. She was with friends, and they tried to keep us apart, which was fine by me. 

My new girlfriend saw the stares and I filled her in without going into to detail. She was a little redhead, with a temper of her own.

"Want a little payback?"

Of course I did, She hung onto me like I was the last drink of water in a desert, and I let her. People didn't bump and grind back then like they do now, so it got a lot of attention when we slow danced and she practically dry humped me on the dance floor.

That tore it with Sheila. She charged over with a full head of steam.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? I'm going through issues, and you're running around with sluts. That's not how it works, you can't do that. How's that helping us get back together?"

It was a golden opportunity and I was was young and petty enough to take it.

"Who said we're getting back together? I love you for five years and suddenly it's not enough? Have you found yourself yet? I bet if you look hard enough at the end of Dr. Love's cock, you'll at least see part of you. Didn't know I knew about that, did you? Now leave me alone. I'd tell you to go get fucked, but you already did."

She went pale and collapsed. I left and didn't see her again for two years.

When I say left, I mean left town. I got a better job offer in another state and took it. I didn't tell anybody until the day before I left. I had a big party and invited my oldest friends.

They were shocked when I told them it was my farewell party. Late in the evening Sabrina and Billy got me alone.

"What did Sheila say when you told her?"

I was surprised.

"I haven't seen or talked to her in almost two months. Why should it matter?"

Sabrina snorted.

"I admit it. She was a bitch. How she left you was bad, and fucking that doctor was even worse. But since that night at the club all she does when she isn't working is sit around and mope about you. She made a mistake, screwed up bad. I know for a fact she would do anything for a chance to start over with you. Can't you at least say bye?"

I shook my head.

"Already said bye. Tell her this though. Stop moping around. Put a little energy into the relationship with Dr. Cock. She'll be happier."

She almost slapped me, but I caught her hand.

"She hasn't seen him since the night she saw you with that redhead. Besides, he's married. There was never a future there."

That tidbit just pissed me off more.

"So she was fucking the guy knowing he was married. That solidifies her standing as a certified slut in my mind. I'm sorry, Sabrina, there's nothing left anymore."

I wasn't taking anything but clothes with me and made a deal with a few college guys to take what they wanted, as long as they cleaned the place out and left it good order. Billy supervised.

He said I hadn't been gone five minutes when Sabrina came by with Sheila. She saw the stuff piled outside and threw a fit, screaming, grabbing things and trying to take them back inside. They finally got her calmed down. I had left everything that was hers or that I thought she might want with Billy anyway, so she had nothing to complain about. She sat there and cried while the physical remnants of our life together disappeared.

................................................

I finished our saga in a joint session.

"So you see, Dr. Wills, there was a precedent for her recent behavior. And it makes me wonder, in between then and now, had she gotten lost again? Was I living in a fools' paradise while she found herself with other doctors? Looking back, I can remember a few rough patches."

Sheila denied that violently, but wouldn't look me in the eye. And apparently, her version of our history had been revised a bit, to put her in a better light. Dr. Wills was not happy.

In my next individual session she asked me how we got back together.

.................................................

I was doing well in my new job. It looked like I might have a future there. I took two weeks vacation, and went home to see my mother. She had remarried, a decent guy. We had nothing in common except love for my mother, but it was enough for us to become friends.

I spent four days with them and enjoyed it tremendously. My old college town was between my new town and my old one. I had stopped for gas, and went to see if the little cafe that served such great soup was still there. It was.

I had just started eating when someone slapped me on the back of my head. I looked around and found Billy and Sabrina.

"That's for not keeping in touch, asshole" said Sabrina, as they sat down.

We caught up. They had married, and had just found out they were going to be parents. Their joy had me smiling.

We talked for a bit and they asked if I was going to be in town for any length of time.

"No, I'm on my vacation, passing through on the way to my visit my Mom. But I'll be back this way at the end of the week, maybe we can get together then."

I called as soon as I got back into town and checked in. We met with a few old friends that night, with a promise to get back together the next day.

Billy and Sabrina had a nice home. Three bedrooms, with a large yard. It was a little older, but they loved it. 

They had tables set up, party lights strung through the trees, the stereo pulled outside and hooked to extra speakers, and three grills going. There was about forty people there, old classmates and their spouses or partners of the moment. I knew almost everybody, and eventually we did the marriage count. All but me and two others were married. Two had married and already gotten divorced.

"So, is there a Mrs. Roy in the near future?"

It was an innocent question but one that still brought me pain while I looked at my old friends.

"No, no prospects at this time. I see a few, but nothing serious. To be honest, I haven't been looking. You know how my last serious relationship ended up. Let's say I'm just a bit cautious these days."

It cast a little pall over the group until they started The Confess Game. I wasn't familiar.

"We pull situations out of a hat and you have to tell a true story about that situation if you've been in it. It's fun, and you don't have to play, and we try not to keep it too personal. The object is to laugh, not embarrass. We usually ask three people, then draw another subject. All right?"

I agreed and they began.

The first question: What was the craziest place or situation you had sex in? Everybody looked at me.

"Gee, there's been so many, which should I choose?"

That brought a round of laughter.

"All right, it was just before I came here to college. I bet you all thought I was a virgin, huh? I'm from a small town. The hot spots for a teenager were the drive in burger joints, the movies, and the bowling lanes. That was pretty much the night life.

Mu friend Joe and I were cruising around in his car, a '67 Barracuda. Man, I would have loved to own that car. It was jet black, and had that big bubble back window, anybody remember those?"

There was a few nods form the guys.

"Anyway, Joe and I cruised the bowling alley parking lot, and hooked up with two girls from the other high school in the county.

He had a hot car, I was eighteen, legal age at the time, so I had a case of beer, and it wasn't long until we were out in the country, riding the back roads. We parked, drank half the case, and pretty soon we were necking like crazy. I had my hands all over her boobs and she seemed to like it. Then the cops came by, and we had to leave. Joe was bitching, because where he had to stop, me and the girl I was with were getting deeper into it. I had her jeans down by then, playing with paradise. She had her hands all over me when Joe stopped."

"Gotta piss."

"We all needed to go by then, so while the girls were in the bushes, I outlined my grand plan to Joe. Remember, this was a drunk, horny teenager, so the plan had to be simple."

"That particular model of Barracuda had a neat feature. You could fold the backseat down and make a storage area. I talked Joe into folding it down, then talked my girl out of her clothes. We were gonna screw in the back while he drove around. Brilliant, right?"

"The plan came apart when Joe asked me where he should drive."

"It don't matter. man. Just don't stop until we're done, then I'll drive."

"About ten minutes go by, we're folded like pretzels but it didn't stop us. Joes' girl had slid her head down into his lap, and it kept him distracted. I felt a hard bump, then another. He needs new shocks, I'm thinking, when all of a sudden I here people clapping and cheering. I manage to look up, and Joe is cruising through the bowling alley parking lot! We were bouncing over the speed bumps they had installed. I was almost there, no way I was stopping. So I lost it, right there in front of about twenty people."

I had rolled off the girl by then. She saw where we were and started screaming, slapping Joe on the back of his head. His girl is just about finished, and when she does her head pops up and she starts screaming too. We get out of town, them cussing like sailors the whole time, get our clothes on, and take them back. They got into their car, still cussing, one holding their bras, and burned rubber while everyone cheers again."

"So there you have it, the most unusual place I ever had sex in, the back of a '67 Barracuda in the bowling alley parking lot, in front of a crowd. I was actually a bit of a legend in my school for a few weeks."

Most of them were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. I was laughing along until I looked up, right into Sheila's eyes. I stopped laughing instantly.

Sabrina saw me and grabbed my hand.

"Behave, I didn't know she would be here. I sent out a grapevine invitation, and she's still my friend."

I smiled.

"No problem, the past is in the past. I'm content to leave it there."

She smiled and turned away, but I could have sworn I heard her mumble "maybe for you", but I couldn't be sure.

She didn't approach me for about an hour, but I felt her eyes on me constantly. Soon everyone was watching us instead of partying. Enough was enough. I walked up to her. She had a look in her eye half way between hope and terror.

"Hi, Sheila. I like your hair."

She had a shorter, more professional cut, much different from the flowing mane she had when we were together.

She automatically stroked it.

"You don't think it makes me look older?"

I laughed, and everybody else did when they heard me.

"Duh. Of course it does. The fact that you are older has nothing to do with it."

I glanced at her hand, I couldn't help it. No rings. She noticed it and smiled for the first time.

She rubbed my face.

"I could say the same for you. When did you get rid of the beard? And that's the shortest I've ever seen your hair."

"I had to grow up. Owners aren't comfortable when their managers look like John Lennon."

My cheek felt like it was on fire where she touched it.

Everybody relaxed and went back to partying. She followed me around so I stopped trying to ditch her.

"You wanna talk?" she said out of the blue.

"About what?" I said, knowing the answer.

"About us. About how bad I screwed up. About letting me apologize for the horrible way I treated you."

I sighed.

"There is no us anymore, Sheila. You did treat me horribly, and I do accept that you feel bad about it. But I can never trust you again, so let's just try to remember the good times."




You Can't Do That! Ch. 02



She tried not to, but tears rolled down her cheeks. She disappeared for awhile.

I got drunk. Not high, not tipsy, knee walking drunk. About halfway in I felt someone slip under my arm and I clung to them blindly.

Billy drove me back to the motel. He and a helper got me inside and undressed.

"You're on your own from here" I heard him say right before I passed out.

The last thing I heard was a woman saying she could handle it.

I felt like toasted shit when I woke up later. Somebody shoved three aspirins and a full glass of water down my throat before I passed out again.

It didn't help much. Man, do I hate hangovers. I finally pried my eyes opened and got them to focus. Then I shook my head, thinking I was seeing things. That made it hurt even worse.

When I got my head cleared again, I saw the same thing. Sheila, sitting cross legged on the bed. Naked.

"What happened?"

She had a sad look in her eyes.

"You tried to drink me away last night. Didn't work. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere until we talk. But first, you need a shower pretty bad. I hope you got enough towels."

I watched that great ass I remembered so well sway across the room. She looked over her shoulder at me in the door.

"You comin', or what?"

It wasn't what.

..................................................

We didn't do anything, I was in no shape. But we did rediscover each others' body, touching and rubbing with tenderness. Neither of us bothered dressing, just went back to bed.

As my head cleared, we talked. Actually she talked about her life for the last two years. About how sorry she was for what she did to me, how she had gone to some counseling sessions the hospital provided free to staff. It made her realize she was afraid of commitment.

"To put it in plain terms, I didn't want to grow up. While we were in college it was like we were safe from the real world. The last year, when we were actually adults, started me retreating."

She rubbed my cheek again.

"But don't worry. My act of stupidity made me grow up pretty fast, especially since I didn't have you to run home to. I had to put on the big girl panties and deal with it. And I did. I'm all grown up now, Roy. Please, let me prove it to you."

I finally worked enough energy up to eat something. She refused to leave my side, I think she would have stood outside the mens' room door if she could, to make sure I didn't slip away.

I asked her about nine what time she had to be home.

"When you throw me out. Not a minute before."

So she stayed. We made love, it was everything I remembered. Actually, it was better. Maybe she was trying to prove something to us or herself, but it was more intense, more...intimate.

We didn't get back together right away. It took months, because I wouldn't be rushed. If it had been up to her, we would have married that first weekend.

But we did, and two years later our son came along. And I lived, for the most part, in happiness and love, until it came apart again.

................................................. 

Sheila had moved back into the house by now. She tried through various sources, but didn't find out where I lived until after the divorce. All the paperwork originated and was sent from an address[not mine]of the YCDT Corporation. My entertainment lawyer set it up, and when he had me name it, he asked what the initials meant.

"Does it matter?"

"No, not really, just wondered."

She and her lawyer almost went into shock over the financial disclosures. It included half the profits from the first two books to date, as well as half the movie rights. In the end, a major film company outbid everyone else at 1.3 million, with a flyer saying that if the movie grossed over a certain amount, I would get a percentage.

It came down to almost seven hundred thousand apiece after taxes, and as a bonus, she got the house and I kept health insurance on her until she was sixty two. I kept the retirement from my old company, and she kept hers. It was as fair as I can make it.

She still fought every step of the way. The arbitrator was about to throw up his hands when she wanted alimony for ten years.

"Please, Mrs. Smith. Be realistic. The marriage is over. All your tactics are doing is delaying the inevitable. He's been more than fair. If you add in the house, you're getting more than half the assets. He obviously wants you to live in comfort."

I had a quick conference with Becky. She was about to disagree but saw the look on my face.

"All right" she said, coming back into the room "this is it, my clients' final offer. She can have all the revenues of the first two books for the next three years in lieu of any alimony. This is our final offer. Refuse, and we go away, and let arbitration lapse. You can take him to court. I'll make sure to fight you tooth and nail for years over every little item. He's got the deep pockets, you don't. You don't have the money right now to pay your lawyer, his fee is contingent on the settlement. How long do you think he's going to fight for you if his paycheck is years in the future? I hope you fight, now. I have a college education to pay for starting next year."

Sheila looked at me, pleading. It had been nine months and the pain for both of us was still there.

She nodded her head.

Forty five days later We were no longer man and wife.

..................................................

I turned sixty two yesterday. I'm officially old.

I lay in bed, head slightly aching, really glad I don't drink much anymore, and thought about my life post marriage.

I finally got famous enough people would recognize me. I had written six books so far. Three best sellers, two good ones, and one I'm surprised got published. It sold well enough anyway.

Two were made into motion pictures, one was turned into a miniseries on television. Money kept rolling in.

Kelsie surprised me by enrolling in a state university thirty miles away and living with me for two years. She just moved out a few months ago, into an apartment with her boyfriend.

I got a housekeeper who complained I didn't dirty enough to keep her busy.

"He practically lives in that basement office of his, and he won't let me in there except once a week."

When Kelsie moved in she had a lot to do, because there was always a girl or two there 'just for the night'. She actually enjoyed it.

Two weeks before the decree became final, I had my first sexual encounter with someone I hadn't been married to for thirty two years.

She was a recently divorced woman of fifty. She looked good but I was warned by my friends.

"We know who you are now, and you have to be making good money off those books. She's looking for a sugar daddy, and thinks you're it."

I didn't care when she came on to me, I was back in college again, and pussy was pussy.

She was good. It was like she was auditioning. Eager, willing to do anything. I did my first anal in quite awhile, holding on as she bucked and moaned.

Her disappointment in me not moving her in a month later was hard for me to bear, but I dealt with it. Luckily, the bar of the country club had a full contingent of cougars, and I slept alone by choice most of the time. I even had a few of Kelsies' little friends warm up to me. There's lots of old fools out there, but I liked to think I wasn't one of them.

Right now I'm seeing my new neighbor. She's my age, and looks much younger. Of course, she told me she was heavily into yoga, and had been for two years. Her therapist recommended it as a way to center herself, and she fell in love with it. She tries to get me to do it with her, but I like my machines just fine. I have to admit I do admire her flexibility, though.

I watched as her house got built across the cove from me. A simple house, compared to the McMansions that had been popping up. A single story three bedroom cottage, with an extensive outdoor living area.

When it was almost done Kelsie took the canoe I kept in the boathouse and paddled over. She had been grinning like mad for the last three months, happy over her new boyfriend, I guess.

She came back and hugged me.

"I met our new neighbor. You'd like her. She's divorced, close to your age. But she's got a tight body and a cute face. We should invite her over."

I was right in the middle of finishing my last book and was concentrating on that, so I just nodded. I could entertain later. Kelsie shocked me when she said she was tired of watching my "Platinum Pussy Parade" go by, I needed to find a steady relationship.

I kissed her and told I had done that, and it didn't work out so well.

The new house was finished and our neighbor moved in. I was out in my pontoon early one morning, working the cove, trying to catch dinner. I saw her on the patio and got out my binoculars.

She was on a mat, moving her body through a series of motions that were sensual and slightly erotic, in a skin tight leotard. I didn't get a look at her face, it was obscured by a mass of silver hair that looked familiar somehow.

Maybe I would invite her over some night for dinner.

"Got a bit of a look at our new neighbor this morning. Maybe we should be nice and invite her to dinner, you know, be neighborly."

Kelsie sat and grinned at me.

"There's no horndog like an old horndog."

I pretended to be offended. She grinned harder.

"Tell you what, I'll invite her to your birthday party next week. You know, meet her in a casual setting."

"I've already told you I don't want a party."

"Doesn't matter. The sad fact is when people get old and senile the youngsters can push them around. Besides, I've already invited people. Just a few."

So that Friday afternoon I was out on the patio, mixing with friends and well wishers. Becky was there with her family. We had remained friends, and her daughter was a fixture at my house, going to the same college as Kelsie. My son and his new wife, my ex daughter and her new husband, all I need now is Sheila, I thought sadly.

My butcher was there, beaming at the compliments to the meat. We had become golfing buddies. A select few of my country club friends and their wives, about forty people in all.

Shorts, tees, sandals. They were admiring the pool Kelsie made me put in.

"You didn't really expect me to swim in the lake, did you?"

Thinking of her, I looked around. She wasn't to be found.

"I think she took the pontoon to fetch your new neighbor" said Becky, grinning.

"I hear she has a pretty good body."

"Probably a dog" I said sourly.

"You're about to find out. Here they come."

I turned, and watched as Kelsie led the woman up from the dock. Leggy, thin with good curves, she had a halter and cutoffs on. The halter was straining against the bottom of her breasts as she was taking down her hair. It was oddly familiar. She was taking her oversized sunglasses off as they reached us.

"Gramps", she fussed, "you know how sound carries over water. We heard what you said. You need to apologize."

I flushed with embarrassment as I turned. Before I could say anything she pushed the hair out of her eyes and held out her hand.

"Hi" she said, "I'm Sheila. Woof."

..................................................

Yes, Sheila, my ex. Live and in person.

"You're my new neighbor?"

Her smile faltered a bit. Then she continued like we had never met.

"Yes I am. My granddaughter lives up her and I fell in love with the place. I've been divorced for a couple of years, and I recently retired. My ex had made a little money, and he was more generous than I deserved. I got a good deal on the lot, and built the house I always wanted."

She hesitated again.

"Please Roy. There was nothing left for me back there. I sold the house, I'm trying to move on with my life. I won't bother you, won't come over uninvited. Kelsie is here. You're here. I don't want to be far away."

I gave up. She acknowledge the compliments on her new look, talking about how much therapy and yoga had helped. Two of the women I had dated in the past was there, and when introductions were made, they circled each other like mature cats, taking measure. In the end Sheila smiled. She was more attractive and in much better shape, and they knew it. Becky was laughing her ass off.

"Did you know about this?"

"No, but Roy, you got to admit, she really looks good."

I sighed.

"She always looked good, to me. Didn't stop her from doing what she did, twice."

Sheila was behind us. She stood, let a tear slide down her cheek, then retreated to the bathroom, repaired her makeup, and came back smiling.

We ate, we carried on like the friends we were. Somewhere along the line she had attached herself to me and didn't leave. Finally it was just Becky, her husband, her daughter, Kelsie and her boyfriend, Me, and Sheila. Our son and exwive were in bed with their spouses, staying the night.

"Roy, I'd like to call it an evening. Will you take me home now?"

We walked down to the pontoon and took the short ride across the cove without talking.

"Will you escort me in? At least to the door, so I can set the security system?"

I walked her in. She showed me the place with pride, talking about the features she had incorporated. It was simple and tastefully furnished. I complimented her.

"I'm happy here." she said simply.

She made coffee. I drank a cup, and started for the door. I got almost there when she said in a small voice "stay".

"Sheila, that isn't a good idea."

"Please? I won't read anything into it. I know we're done, we'll never be man and wife again. Just for tonight. Consider it a birthday present, or comfort for a friend. Please."

I knew, absolutely KNEW I should walk away, but I turned and took her in my arms.

She was energetic, familiar but different. Everything was firmer than I remembered. For an official old guy, I didn't do too badly.

...............................................

I woke the next morning with her in my arms, her eyes on me.

"Morning."

"Good morning. Worried about last night?"

I thought for a minute.

"Yes."

"Don't be. Like I said last night, we'll never be man and wife again. I'm not good wife material, it's a fact I had to face in my therapy. But I bet I'd make a pretty good girlfriend. One that would want her own place and privacy from time to time. I wouldn't even care if we were exclusive. I just want a place in your life again, and maybe in your heart. Think about it."

All this was said in gaps as she nibbled her way down my stomach. Just before she reached the point of interest she popped her head out of the covers, smiling.

"Oh, and I finally figured out what the letters in your corporation stand for."

I had forgotten I never told her. YCDT. You Can't Do That.

She licked, she bobbed up and down. She did things she had never done before. I didn't care. I had learned a few tricks myself.

We lay together later, snuggling.

She jumped up suddenly. 

"I want you to return the favor, but I definitely need a shower."

I watched her still magnificent ass sway across the bedroom. At the door she looked over her shoulder.

"You comin', or what?"

It wasn't what.

...............................................

I know, I know, you BTB guys are screaming in your heads not to get tangled up with her. But you know, I've never responded well when I'm told I can't do something.

But like she said, she wasn't marriage material, even if I was to get stupid enough to want to. I had come to like variety, and wasn't inclined to relinquish it. Friends with benefits, fuck buddies, whatever. I knew it would be more than that, but not much more.

It still burns her up when I have a female guest stay overnight. I've even caught her watching us through binoculars a couple of times. She'll mope around for a day or two, then come over and do her yoga routine behind the walled section of my patio, naked. I've managed to make it almost two thirds through before I get involved. She does her best to try to kill me. Life is good.

I was teasing her the other day about a threesome. She colored and said "you can't do that". She clapped her hands over her mouth while I grinned.

.................................................

That's it. Hope it entertained you. If it did, or if it didn't, I'm sure you'll tell me about it. I appreciates the comments, and as always, feel free to vote

QHML1 



You Can't Do That! Ch. 03



There's an old saying in my neck of the woods.

If you're dumb enough to poke in a hornets nest, don't be surprised when you get stung.

Most of you hated the last chapter, and a few of you actually got it. Thought this final chapter might clear a few things up, and no, I didn't write this as a response to the feedback, it was already almost ready to post.

Like it, don't like it, but feel free to tell me anyway. As if you wouldn't. Thanks for reading.  

..........................................

I walked the rooms of my new house. It was almost finished. Soon the decorators would be unleashed, the furniture delivered, and the landscaping finished. I looked out at the lake, especially towards the big house that sat almost exactly opposite me.

This was my dream home, the one I always told my husband I wanted when we retired. Too bad he won't be living in it with me.

You see, he and I aren't together anymore. Totally my fault, but it didn't make it hurt any less when he divorced me. He was the only man I ever loved.

The kicker is the big house across the cove belongs to him. That's right, I'm moving into his neighborhood. He doesn't know it yet. Our granddaughter does but she promised not to tell him. I want it to be a surprise.

He probably won't have anything to do with me. If he does I'll be surprised, but one thing I've learned over the years is you can never really predict how he's going to respond to anything.

I passed a cruise in as I left town the other day, a collection of cars I was old enough to remember being new. It brought back all kinds of memories, especially the one where I first met Roy.

.................................................

It was 1972, the era of free love, burn the bra, up with femininity. 

I was in college, studying for a nursing degree.

Three hundred miles from home with no one to tell me no. I wasn't a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, let's just say I was VERY popular in high school and leave it to that.

But in college I went into full slut mode. I convinced myself I needed to get it out of my system, then go back home, marry, and be a good little wife far from my adventurous past.

I was almost done with my freshman year. Mom had lined up a summer job for me as a nurses' aid in a rest home. Good experience for my resume. I dreaded it.

We were cruising the boulevard. Gas was twenty three cents a gallon, that's what you did back then. I was with my friends Sabrina and Jane, her sister Becky and her boyfriend Bobby. We were in his '70 Chevelle, a muscle car of the era.

He was bragging about his 350 engine, the cam, his four on the floor, and a lot of other stuff he was very proud of that meant nothing to me. Cars were to get you from point A to point B, period.

I was about halfway through a bottle of wine when we pulled up beside this big four door car. Two guys our age were in it. Bobby wanted to show off, so he made fun of their car.

"Does grandpa know you've got his car?"

He was shocked beyond measure when the driver held up a twenty, popped it twice, and laid it on the dash. This was a common signal that he would race you from one stoplight to the next for the money. Bobby was so shocked he missed the light change, and the guy slowly pulled away. You could hear him laughing.

We caught them at the next light. Bobby's vanity was so offended he pulled a twenty out. It wasn't even a contest. When the light changed he left us behind. While Bobby was fighting to regain traction he was already pulling into the parking lot of a grocery store.

They pulled over and got out, immediately went into car talk, raising the hoods and inspecting engines. I didn't even get out of the car. I couldn't see the driver, he had his head under the hood.

"He's kind of cute" whispered Sabrina, eying the passenger, "let's get out."

As we did I heard the one named Billy trying to talk the guy driving into getting us to ride with them.

"Maybe we'll get some pussy" I heard him say.

That seemed to be the sum total of what college guys of the time, or any time before or since, was interested in. In my time it was pussy, cars, pussy, drinking, pussy. And let's not forget pussy.

What were college girls interested in? Clothes, dick, good times, dick. And don't forget, dick. It worked out pretty well for both parties.

It pissed me off when I heard him joke I was probably a dog. I stopped long enough to retie the halter I was wearing until it almost showed the bottom of my boobs and shook my long hair into my face. I stood, put my hands in my hair, straining my top until I'm sure the bottom of my tits showed.

"Hi" I said, holding my hair back with one hand and extending the other, "I'm Sheila. Woof."

He turned about eight shades of red while everyone including me laughed. I got am example of his soon to be familiar quick wit."

He shook my hand.

"Roy, glad to meet you. Have I had a chance to tell you yet what a dog fancier I am?"

He was about six feet tall, thin, with long hair and a beard, not unruly but neatly groomed, and the most expressive brown eyes I've ever seen staring at me behind silver wire rimmed glasses. He looked like a neater, more handsome John Lennon. I liked him instantly.

We sat and talked for awhile, then he went in and bought me two bottles of my favorite wine and a case of beer.

Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. They still sell it. I can look at the label and get nauseous to this day.

He and Billy drank a few beers while Sabrina and I worked on the wine. We talked, we laughed. In thirty minutes I was across the seat and under his arm.

Seatbelts, drinking and driving? Screw that, we were college students, we were immortal. Common thinking at the time.

He didn't drink much anyway, but I decided to pick up his slack. He had been rubbing my leg for an hour, right up to the edge of mu cutoffs and a bit beyond. I had already decided to fuck his brains out when we got back to the apartment.

Billy and Sabrina had stopped drinking and were all but fucking in the back seat. I finished my bottle and drank what was left of hers. Bad mistake. By the time we got back to the apartment my head was spinning. Roy actually carried me in and lay me down on the couch, where I promptly passed out.

He went home, there was nothing else he could do for me. Twenty minutes later Sabrina was holding my hair while I worshipped at the porcelain altar.

She fed me aspirin and a large glass of water and helped me to bed.

I was lying there feeling the ceiling spin when I heard them whispering.

"Think she's asleep yet?"

"Yeah, when she passes out like this she's gone for the night. Now, where were we, honey?"

So I laid there and listened to Billy grunt and Sabrina wail until I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the trashcan and gave up the rest of my stomach. They never missed a stroke.

.................................................

All college kids go through it. You wake up wondering who shit in your mouth while you were asleep and a massive headache. Sabrina and Billy were at it again, probably what woke me up.

I went into the bathroom, drank about a quart of water and promptly gave it back. I took a long, long shower and staggered back to my bed. I forgot to redress.

Billy had his mouth hanging open and Sabrina poked him in the ribs, covering me with a blanket.

"How do you feel, honey?"

"I feel like I always do when I drink too much. Like shit. Did I make an ass out of myself last night?"

"No, you were having a good time. You were telling Roy you were going to fuck his brains out, holding your halter top out of the window, having a hell of a time. Then your eyes rolled back and you passed out, head down, in his lap. I noticed his pants were unzipped when we got you out of the car. He was a very frustrated man."

I held the pillow over my head while Billy laughed.

"I'll never be able to face him."

"I wouldn't bet on that. He left you his number, said to call, maybe you guys could hang out today."

Hearing Billy say that made me feel human for the first time that day.

"Thanks, now get out of here and let us get dressed. Do you know what dorm he's in?"

"Even better, I know where his apartment is."

"Good. I'll ride with you guys when Sabrina takes you home. You can show me.

So I showed up unannounced at his apartment. Then I promptly passed out on his couch, still feeling the effects of the night before.

I woke up three hours later not knowing exactly where I was. I admit, this wasn't the first time in my college life that happened. 

He was sitting at his kitchen table studying. I felt like an idiot for going back to sleep but he laughed and put me at ease, even took me out to eat when I told him I was hungry.

It wasn't a burger joint, but a place I had passed dozens of times and never noticed. We ate soup, the bowl being artisan bread. It was great.

I started feeling human again. We talked, we flirted.

We went to the park, just to be outside and feel the sunshine. He seemed to know a lot of people. I just about freaked when two of my friends came by. I had slept with both of them, not at the same time, but I was afraid they might say something. I held onto Roy as I introduced them, sending a signal. Luckily they weren't dense, and I relaxed. They had their guitars, and soon we were all singing. Roy had a surprisingly good voice.

I was worked up with all the touching and light kissing I had been doing and I decided to push it.

I made him stop and get some beer on the way back to his apartment. We had a few, and I had to use the bathroom. I got an idea.

Starting the shower, I quickly stripped off. The look on his face was priceless when I opened the door, exposing myself in all my glory, and told him he needed fresh towels. Then I turned around, I always had a great ass. I looked over my shoulder and grinned.

"You coming or what?"

I was very happy he decided not to choose the what option.

We played in the shower for a little before going back to his bedroom.

He had nice equipment. I had a bit of experience, and he was just a little over average, and had a nice thickness. But it was the way he used it that made all the difference.

I've always thought the old saying "It's not the size of the wand but the magic in it" was just bullshit, but I stood corrected.

It was like he was making love to me with his whole body. He took his time, touching and kissing me from head to foot, paying close attention to the important parts. I had come twice from his hands and tongue before he actually entered me. It was agonizing, by then I was climbing the wall, but he refused to hurry, sliding into me slowly, one millimeter at a time.

Once he was fully seated he just paused for a second before starting to move slowly, sensually, until he had established a nice rhythm.

He was driving me crazy until my orgasm caught me by surprise. I was gasping, tears in my eyes over how good it felt, when he changed and starting getting faster, until he was slamming into me. Right after I felt him blast into me I experienced the most intense, mind blowing orgasms of my life.

I now realized what writers talk about when they describe afterglow. When he finally took me back to the dorm late that night, Sabrina took one look and grinned.

"Was he good?"

I looked her right in the eye.

"The best I've ever had. I think I'm gonna marry him."

She looked at me in surprise.

"Sure Shot Sheila? Marriage? Love? What alien race do you come from and what have you done with my horny little friend?"

I frowned. The nickname came from guys realizing if they got me high enough it was a sure shot they were getting some. I hoped Roy never heard it.

"Those days are over, girl, at least until I'm sure."

"My God! You're serious. I'm gonna check this guy out. If he's as good as you say, I might take a shot."

She laughed when I said "over my dead body, bitch" and stomped off to the bathroom.

................................................

We did check him out. Scholarship student, lower income single parent home. Worked almost a full time job but still maintained a 3.7 grade point average. IQ near genius level. It was good to have a friend working part time in the admissions office.

Of course, he told me all that over the months we spent together that first year, and I never let on I already knew.

I talked my way into his apartment by the end of the term, spending four weeks together before I had to go home. He was going to stay and work all the hours he could get at his job.

"That way I can cut back next year, and spend more time with you."

No argument there.

My mom had wrangled me a job at a rest home as a nursing assistant. It was good work experience for my major and I hated it with a passion. I know, the elderly deserve respect, but when you're changing their diaper for the third time in two hours while the berate you viciously, it makes it hard. I finally took all I could, left the job and moved back into our apartment.

I was sitting on the couch naked when Roy came home.

"I didn't want to waste anytime" I told him as we headed towards the bedroom.

I lived with him all the rest of the way through college and a year past, before I screwed it all up.

I knew we would be married, have kids, and spend our life together. I just didn't want to do it right now.

He caught me by surprise when he proposed. There it was, the last vestige of my youth being stripped away.

He didn't take my answer well. A crack appeared in our relationship and just kept getting wider. It was mostly my fault.

The good doctor was an opportunistic asshole, but he was a skilled seducer. He listened while we nurses talked, learning who the easiest targets were.

He pretended to support me, stroking my ego and vanity. It was his suggestion I move out for awhile.

"Scare him. Let him be miserable for a month or two and then consent to move back in. He'll be so grateful you'll have all the power in the relationship. Then you can determine the pace."

He didn't know Roy, had no clue how he thought. If he did he might have stopped.

So I ran away and hid. Of course a month later the good doctor fed me a few drinks and soon my heels were pointed at the ceiling as he pounded into me.

He had no technique, no concern for my feelings, just get in and get off. There was no cuddling either. Had to get back to the wife before she got suspicious. Him being married made me feel even more like a slut. We went to bed one more time before I told him no more.

It didn't bother him in the least. He had gotten what he wanted. He started slighting me at work, dressing me down for nothing in front of the other nurses. I snapped, dragging him into an empty room.

I slapped the shit out of him.

"Try that one more time and I'm going straight to the administrator and file sexual harassment complaints against you. I'll even tell them about our little meetings. It won't hurt me much, I'm a single, innocent little nurse right out of college. They won't get rid of me because I have a year left on my contract."

"You, however, will be in deep shit with the hospital and the wife. Think about it."

He was gone a few months later. I don't think he spoke another word to me before he left.

I sat and brooded for about a month, trying to figure out how to get back to Roy.

Finally Sabrina dragged me to a club, just to get me out of he apartment. She loved me like a sister, but didn't have a lot of sympathy for me.

"What the hell were you thinking? You'll never find anyone better than him for you. And I'll tell you another thing. You better do something quick. I've seen him with a little redhead. And she looks really happy."

She might as well have stuck a knife in my heart.

Roy, dating? Banging some bitch instead of loving on me. I'll kill her.

That was my thoughts, anyway. It didn't do my feelings any good to get to the club and see him with that little bitch. She was pretty, too. That didn't help my mood, and when she practically fucked him on the dance floor I lost it.

It was a pretty good scene. The redhead just stood and smirked as Roy unloaded on me. And he did, practically screaming the last.

He knew I had sex with the doctor. I nearly fainted when he grated out the last before he walked out.

"I'd tell you to go get fucked, but you already have."

The world faded into fuzzy little splotches. I don't know how I got home. 

When I went by and saw some guys I didn't even know emptying the apartment, I came apart, trying to force them to put everything back. When I finally understood he was gone, not just moving, I finally realized what I had lost.

.................................................

The time between when he left and we got back together is still fuzzy in my memory. After a while, I started dating again. Never found anyone I was interested in enough to date twice. And yes, I slept with a couple, I was young and healthy with needs, and it wasn't like I was going to betray anyone by doing it. True to the cliche it was just sex. No sparks at all.

I was incredibly jealous of Sabrina and Billy. They had married, and she had just told me they were expecting their first child. It should have been me.

She told me he had passed through town one Tuesday at the hospital. We had worked together since we graduated.

"Why didn't you tell me? How does he look? Did he ask about me? Why didn't you tell me?"

She held her hand up.

"Slow down. We didn't know he was here. We ran into him at that little cafe, the one with the soups and bread. He didn't ask about you, sorry. But, he promised to stop by this weekend on the way home and see our new house. We're going to have a little party, guys he hasn't seen in a while. You can come, IF you behave yourself."

I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the week, not a good thing if you're a nurse. Sabrina made sure I didn't do something stupid and kill someone. I dressed and redressed, did my hair and makeup about five times. I wondered how he would think I looked now. My waist length hair was gone, replaced by a cut that just reached my shoulders. I didn't like it much but it was a whole lot easier to handle.

I was deliberately late, wanting him to get comfortable. I walked out on the patio just as he started that story about having sex in some car in a bowling alley parking lot. I listened, wondering if I had ever really known him at all.

He looked up into my eyes. He stopped laughing and I saw Sabrina say something to him. He shook his head and smiled, and she relaxed.

All I could do was stare at him. After thirty minutes Sabrina pulled me to the side.

"Jesus! Are you going to say hello to him, or what? You're giving everybody the creeps."

I was had finally worked up enough nerve. But before I could move he walked over to me.

"Hi Sheila. I like your hair."

I patted it selfconsciously."

"Thanks, does it make me look old?"

I was surprised when he said it did, then took the sting out by saying maybe it had something to do with me actually being older.

He had changed too. His hair was much shorter, and the beard was gone. In all the time I had known him, he had never been beardless. He had a good chin. I could get used to it.

I followed him around like a puppy while he got seriously drunk. I can count on the fingers of both hands over our whole life together how many times he got that way, and still have fingers left.

After he hit a certain level I took his hand. He didn't even notice.

Sabrina and Billy took him back to his motel. I hadn't let go of his hand and didn't intend to.

We got him in the room, and I undressed him after they left, gave him some pain pills, put a glass of water on the night stand, and pulled a wastebasket close. He was probably going to need it before the night was over.




You Can't Do That! Ch. 03



He did, but I cleaned up after him and got him to rinse his mouth out before he went back to sleep.

Knowing he was gonna hurl, I took my clothes off.

When he finally felt better I snuggled up to him. Sometime during the night he spooned against my back, wrapping his arms around me in his familiar way. I cried quietly for an hour.

When he finally returned to the land of the living I was sitting on the bed, naked. When he first opened his eyes he shook his head. That brought a wave of pain, and he lay still until it receded. When he opened them again I was still there.

"What are you doing here Sheila?"

"Being where I belong with you. Lie still for awhile, don't over think it."

I got him some more pills, put a cool towel on his head. After about an hour I stood up, feeling his eyes on my ass the whole way. I looked back over my shoulder.

"You need a shower pretty bad. You comin' or what?"

I held my breath, knowing this was an important decision. I was glad the water hid my tears of relief when he got into the shower with me.

It took months of begging and wheedling before He fully took me back. I remember the last conversation we had before he asked me to marry him again.

"I love you. Yes, you made a mistake sleeping with the asshole, but the biggest mistake you made was not being honest about what you were feeling. Did you really think it would break us up?" 

It was a rhetorical question and he didn't expect an answer.

"But know this, the old saying 'fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me' applies here. It doesn't matter where we are in our lives, five years, ten, twenty, or past, betray me again and we are finished forever, understand?

I nodded yes, mentally adding hell would freeze over before that happened again.

We must have gotten me pregnant the month before we married, because Junior appeared eight months later. He was a difficult child, sick a lot in his early years. If Roy hadn't been there I would have went crazy.

He eloped with his girlfriend just before he was supposed to go to college. She was five months pregnant.

They were young and immature, but managed to last thirteen years before they fell apart. It wasn't amicable, accusations were flung, fights erupted over the most trivial items. We ended up with their dog, and Kelsie, our granddaughter, full time for a year.

I loved Kelsie, but was never sure how to relate to her. She was crazy smart, well above the genius level, She got skipped ahead twice, and graduated from high school at fifteen. Roy was the only one who came close to her level, and they bonded. They could hold whole conversations with their eyes and hand gestures.

Because the divorce left their finances in shambles, Roy stepped in and volunteered to pay for college. It caught me by surprise.

We had a rough patch when a recession hit and Roy lost his job. He really didn't like it much but it paid well. He took a job a a forklift operator at a local plant, just to have something to do. He was promoted pretty quickly. Soon he was back in an office, doing whatever he does so well.

That's when the deck episode happened.

My worst failing, to this day, is my supreme ability to underestimate my husband. Once, when Junior was small, we were living in a house out in the country. It came with a woodstove insert in the chimney, and we would enjoy a fire occasionally, especially if it was really cold. It helped with the heating bills.

It was Christmas, and I was going shopping. Roy was watching a show on woodcarvers, drawing it to my attention and saying he had always wanted to try it.

It was so far out of the norm for him I couldn't believe it. He was never a tool guy. He had the basics, bought as needed, but that was it.

I told him he couldn't do anything like that and left laughing.

Now, when Roy decides he's interested in something, he researches it obsessively. When he thinks he's learned all he can off research he tries it. Sometimes, but not often, he fails. Most times he succeeds.

I couldn't believe the carving he had made when I got home, even accused him of buying it. He sat down and carved another figure for me.

Then years later, he decided to build his mom a deck. True, he worked with builders, but the complicated thing he had ever constructed was a doghouse. I belittled him again, but when it was done it looked more like a work of art than a deck.

Three levels, custom everything. His Mom was so proud of him. I felt like an ass.

I even got angry when he wouldn't build one like that for us.

"Honey, my mom's house sits on a slope. Our lot is flat. I'd have to make the top section level with the roof to get the same flow."

I held a grudge for years over that, even though I could see he was right.

I was closing in on sixty, still menopausal as hell. I was getting little creaks and pains, and was just not enjoying life. It made me resentful to face my own mortality, and I took it out on the only one I could, Roy. I sometimes hated myself for the way I treated him, but couldn't stop. And deep down, I knew he loved me enough to put up with it. It was so bad Sabrina chewed me out about it.

"What are you doing. You know Billy can't stand to be around you because of the way you treat Roy. He doesn't like me being around you, afraid it'll rub off. I love you honey, but one day you're going to push him too far."

Of course I got angry, and she avoided me for a while.

And then I finally got stupid enough to push him too far.

We had all most gotten past the point of having a conversation. I knew he was miserable, I could see it on his face when he thought I wasn't looking. In a perverse way it made me feel good.

I was just sitting back to watch a movie, a romance, when Roy looked up at the screen.

"Hey, I just saw a news segment on that writer. He's worth over sixty million. All from writing romance novels."

It just rolled off my tongue.

"It's too bad you don't have the talent to do something like that."

I could tell I had offended him.

"How hard could it be? Boy meets girl. Love ensues. Something happens to keep boy and girl apart. True love wins out in the end. Money changes hands."

I don't remember after that exactly what was said, but I'm sure given my state it was insulting, and ended with the classic "you can't do that."

For the next few months I know he spent more time on the computer, but he was always looking something that interested him up, and it kept him form bothering me, so I left him alone.

He handed me five heavy binders one night. 

"What's this?"

He grinned.

"It's the romance novel you said I couldn't write."

Damn, I had forgotten about that. I just couldn't give him the pleasure so I casually tossed it on the coffee table.

"I'll read it later. Right now there's a movie I'd like to watch."

It lay there for a few weeks until one day it was just gone.

Then Kelsie came over and found the binders. She actually read it and told me how good it was. She was looking at Roy with a whole new set of eyes. She was always closer to him than anyone, including her parents. Now there was full blown hero worship in her eyes. Like I said, she was scary smart, and if she though it was good there must be something to it. I decided to read it but didn't get a chance. By then she had taken it to school and copied it.

I was shocked when that man called Roy about his book. When he refused to do business with him I thought that would be the end of it.

That was just the time Roy finally hit his limit. He went off on me one night while I was ranting about something insignificant, shocking me.

One I got over the shock I was furious at him. When I came home the next day, it was the first time in years dinner wasn't on the table.

When I found out he had already eaten, something I didn't particularly like, it was like the last straw.

I had gone back into my old pattern of whining about my private life. It was deja vu all over again.

Dr. Feldman wasn't attractive as much as he had presence. Soon we were eating lunch together while I poured out my imaginary woes. He knew what to say, when to say it, and how to use it all for his advantage.

I was still in denial mode, fuming over Roy's apparent lack of reason. I had no one to vent at, and the pressure of holding it in was getting to me.

Finally I broke our marriage past fixing. I rented a condo, waiting for the security check and approval. It took six weeks, but I had a brand new address. I looked at the walls pleased.

I'd have him on his knees.

The fact that I cut off contact unless I wanted it and he didn't know where I was gave me a feeling of power.

This was the exact time it all fell apart. Roy didn't react any where near how I expected. I figured as long as we were separated nothing could violate the marriage. I held on to my hope that Roys' love for me would force him to accept anything I did as long as I came home.

I was on vacation, hiding. It took him just a week to find me. I was caught completely off guard.

I had shopped for younger, more stylish clothes, and lightened my hair two shades. I felt forty instead of near sixty.

The girl looked like she was in high school. When she said my full name in surprise, I thought she was one of Kelsies' friends. When I confirmed my identity, she handed me a manila envelope.

"You've been served. Sorry."

And just like that, she was gone.

When I read the papers I was furious. Legal separation? Just because I wanted to clear my head? That bastard!

I got even angrier when I pulled my phone out and it was dead. The sonofabitch had cancelled my service! What was he thinking? I'll tell him a thing or two, by God!

And I really tried to, about a hundred times, before I realized he wasn't going to answer the phone. I tried him at work, and when I got through and started ranting, He hung up. 

I called back and got he receptionist. She knew me, and told me in no uncertain terms if I she put me through and I wasn't civil, she would refuse my calls.

"You can't call him on company time and harass him, Sheila. Just try talking, maybe he'll listen."

I tried it, and we actually talked. More like he ranted to me. When he said if he found out I was seeing someone we were completely through, no negotiations or explanations, I should have listened, but I was still feeling arrogant and powerful, so I didn't. We all know how that worked out, huh.

I told Randy, Dr. Feldman, what he said, and he came up with the plan of me leaving the condo, him riding three floors past before coming back down and letting himself in. If anyone was on the floor he walked on by and redid the elevator trip. We thought we were so smart. The thought that he would hire detectives never entered our minds.

The sex wasn't that good. He wasn't near in the same physical shape Roy was, and it never lasted long. Oh, I got off, but I think it had more to do with the fact I was getting one over on Roy than anything else.

When my world fell apart and Roy changed the filing to divorce I had no one to turn to. I had no idea what was in the envelope when I received it at the hospital, so I opened it at the nurses' station. When I saw me standing in the door with my robe open, flashing Dr. Feldman, with the words

"TIME EXPIRED" written across the photo, I knew my life was over.

I fainted, with the picture fluttering to the ground. Four nurses and a doctor saw them, and within the day it was all over the hospital.

Dr. Feldman, good ol' Randy, was furious. Tough shit at this stage, and I told him so. We avoided each other like the plague the rest of the time he worked there.

It still took several weeks before I finally got it through my head how badly I had messed up. I almost had a nervous breakdown. Sabrina and a few more of my friends watched over me.

Sabrina scheduled a full physical, and as one of their own they went into more detail than usual.

I found I had several hormonal problems, one that needed medication to balance, and that my blood pressure had become so bad I had to take pills to regulate that to. Further physcological work revealed I had a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder. One of the many ways it could manifest itself was in the need to control others. That brought it's own set of pills.

All that and therapy helped me tremendously, but it was too little, too late.

Then Roy just disappeared, and even Kelsie didn't know where he was. The only address we had was a company known as YCDT, and his his lawyer.

I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt we were done, but I pinned my hopes on counseling, thinking if I could just get him talking to me he would see my view and take me back.

We even had a meeting before counseling, but all I could do was cry and apologize.

The whole series of sessions was a joke. I got the feeling our therapist didn't like Roy and was a little afraid of him.

He didn't ignore like I thought he would, but he destroyed every thing I tried. When the therapist found out I had pretty much done the same thing, and that I was a little revisionist on the rest of our history.

Sometimes I would be pouring my heart out to the therapist and would glance around, catching him with a little smile on his face. I realized then he was enjoying my pain, and it was probably why he agreed to the sessions.

Of course, when the contract for counseling was over, we went to arbitration. The poor man must have thought it was going to be a walk in the park, Roy was exceedingly generous. I fought tooth and nail over every little item.

When we got the financial disclosure I was shocked. Where did all the money come from? I knew Roy had quit his old job and had no idea what he did for a living.

The truth came out. My Roy, a successful writer. Best selling author, the "rising star of the romance genre"?

I had heard nurses talking about him. I had even seen his paperback lying around. It was him the whole time!

And he was willing to give me more than half. With the house, it was pretty close to a million dollars. My lawyer nearly had a heart attack when I rejected the offer, demanding a ridiculous amount of alimony as well. I was looking at Roy and saw something change in his eyes. He didn't look amused anymore.

He and his lawyer had a quick conference, and when they came back I saw her smiling for the first time.

"He'll throw in the revenue from the first two books for the next three years. Take it or leave it, it's his final offer. Refuse, and we'll let arbitration lapse and you can take us to court.

They'll never give you what you're getting now, and I'll fight you like a mad dog over every point. I'll keep you tied up for years. Please, refuse. My daughter starts college next year, my fees from this alone will finance it."

I knew then it was hopeless, and it occurred to me he might be enjoying watching me jump through hoops, knowing it was pointless. I agreed to the terms, went home, and cried my eyes out.

While I was crying it hit me. I kept forgetting how smart he was. Being raised by his mother without a lot of male influence made him more subtle. He thought like a woman at times.

I remember once, at his old company, when another manager was really giving him a hard time, stealing credit, trying to wreck his career. He was moody for awhile, then one day he was back to smiling. The manager left in disgrace.

Roy was celebrating, drinking much more than usual. I commented how fortunate it was for him.

He laughed and described to me in great detail how he had systematically destroyed the man, in oblique ways that were far removed from any connection to him. Then he told the man on the way out what he had done. I thought maybe he was just venting to impress me, but the hairs still stood up on the back of my neck.

Even the settlement was an act of dismissiveness. He never cared much for money, and it gave him a chance to rub in what he had accomplished through my derisive comments. I didn't know it, but at the time he already had another book about to be published, and was three quarters through with his fourth.

He even dedicated the third[and least successful]book to me, giving me credit for starting his new career. Only those close to us knew what he was saying.

I saw his house once. Kelsie took me up to see it while he was on a book tour. It was beautiful. I looked across the cove at the empty lot that was to later be my home, admiring the view.

I stayed at my job, despite the demotion. I actually enjoyed it more, I got to do more actual nursing and less administrating. The first year alone was awful. The second year wasn't as bad.

My therapy was going well. Despite what Roy thought, I never strayed while we were married until right there at the end, although I did go out to dinner twice with a doctor while Roy had to go out of town. I don't even know why I did it. My therapist thinks I needed reaffrimation I was still desirable.

Between therapy and exercise I was able to get off the blood pressure medication. I discovered yoga, watching a seventy year old go through the most advanced positions with ease. I looked at her toned body and guessed her age at late fifties.

She laughed and said it was a combination of exercises and discreet surgeries.

I enrolled in her class and was hooked. I went five time a week. I almost screamed in pain the first few weeks, but was soon pushing myself harder. I toned up, lost my belly roll, and became a lot more self confident. I took advantage of my position and got a boob tuck and some neck work done. I stopped dyeing my hair because I admired the way my instructor looked. It was more silver than gray, so I bought shampoos to bring the shine out.

All this didn't go unnoticed. I was getting date offers from men as young as late forties. Too bad I had pretty much lost interest.

My sixty second birthday came. I checked with my financial advisor, thanks to my retirement program, my 401, and the money Roy gave me, I was just north of a million dollars, not counting social security. I retired.

Kelsie came down to spend the weekend, praising my new look and new found freedom.

"What are you gonna do now, Grandma?"

I honestly didn't know.

"You should move up to the lake. I know you like the area, and you'll be close to me."

She was set to graduate at the end of the year. She wouldn't be eighteen until two months later.

I was positive she was going for a masters, maybe even a PhD. I knew Roy would pay, and I would help if she would let me.

She had a new boyfriend, one she was serious about. They were getting an apartment together as soon as she was of legal age.He was just as crazy smart as she was. Sometimes I felt like a bug under a microscope when they were around.

I thought it over. There was nothing holding me here but the house, and I could lease it until the market improved. And I did like the lake.

I really hadn't intended to live within sight of my ex. Really. I just got too good a deal to pass up. And I liked the idea of building exactly what I wanted and being the very first to live in it.

Kelsie was all for it, but gave me some words of caution.

"I don't know how Grandpa will react. He doesn't mention you, but keeps a picture of you on his night stand. I asked why once."

"I loved her for thirty six years all together. Almost all of them were good. I keep the picture to remind me of happy times."

"Then he grinned at me."

"And to remind myself never to get stupid enough to marry again."

Sometimes I think she likes to torture me when she talks about him. When he started dating, it was like he was making up for lost times. Kelsie didn't approve.

"Widows, divorced, most over fifty, although he has dated as young as thirty nine. He thinks I don't know, but he beds most of them. Hey, he's rich, good looking,and in great shape for his age.




You Can't Do That! Ch. 03



Some are gold diggers, but he's not an idiot. I wish he'd be more careful, even old people can carry diseases."

She called it his "Platinum Pussy Parade", then remarked how good my hair looked now. I had let it grow back out to my college length.

Finally, my house was ready. Kelsie and I had a little housewarming. My house is in a different development from his, so she has to drive almost five miles when she could take a nine hundred yard pontoon ride. She did it because Roy still didn't know I lived there.

"He saw you the other day, while you were doing yoga. Didn't get a look at your face, though. He did say you had a hot body for your age. He wanted to invite you over. I'm stalling him off until his birthday in two weeks. I'm giving him a little party."

I asked her how in the world she made him to agree to a party, knowing he didn't like them.

"Grams, you know him a lot better than I do. Nobody makes him do anything unless he wants to. I pretty much begged him, in a teasing way."

The day came. I was a nervous bundle of energy the whole day. I was going to be fashionably late, to give him time to have a drink or two and relax with his friends. He hadn't actually talked to me since the divorce. Still sent cards and gifts on my birthday and Christmas.

He signed them "From Kelsie and I" but Kelsie generally knew nothing about them. I did the same.

I decided to remind him of better times. I wore a halter that made my now non sagging boobs look great, and an old[new]expensive pair of cutoffs.

My hair was wavy again and I put a scarf over it for the ride across the cove. Kelsie was feeling good so she opened up the outboards, and had my hair flying everywhere.

Sound carries over the water really well, and as I was docking I heard his lawyer[still think he was doing her] ask if he had met me yet.

"No, she's probably a dog."

Kelsie charged up the yard with me in tow, trying to get the hair out of my face.

"Grandpa, you know how sound carries over the water. She heard what you said. You need to apologize."

I finally got the hair out of my eyes and stared into his surprised face, holding out my hand.

"Hi" I sad, "I'm Sheila. Woof."

..............................................

I was happy when he let me stay, and even happier when he took me home.

I wept with joy after he went to sleep, after a very nice little romp. I was surprised when he stayed, even though I had to practically beg him.

I poured everything I had into pleasing him, using my yoga techniques and kegel exercises to heightened the experience. It wasn't tantric, but it still lasted a good while. He gave as good as he got, controlling the tempo, backing off when he got too close. He was different, more aggressive, grabbing and caressing in equal measure. I realized later what the difference was.

He could be that way because he didn't have to live with me, so if I didn't like it he could just leave. I actually liked his new style better, but I hoped he would be gentle sometimes. 

I hoped there would be some more sometimes.

We talked the next morning, and parted on good terms. I told him how proud I was of his writing, and how good he was. I also filled him in on my life since the divorce, mentioning the hormones and my OCD but not dwelling on it.

I see him almost every day. I bought a nice little boat with a lot of power. Kelsie steals it when she's there, flying all over the lake with her friends. She always brings it back with just enough gas to make it to the marina.

In many ways, he's still punishing me. Sometimes he tells me to stay home, even though there's no one there. And if he's in his office working, it better be life and death if I knock on the door.

He knows it burns me, but every few weeks to a month, he goes to the country club and pulls a cougar to bring home. I met a couple of those bitches at his birthday party. I wasn't stupid enough to try to lay a claim on him by holding his arm or any of the other myriad signals one woman sends another, but I did let them know I was serious competition.

I've even stooped to watching them with a high powered pair of binoculars I bought for 'bird watching'. He saw the flash once and grabbed his own pair, looking directly at me and giving him a little wave. The bitch walked out from behind the privacy wall, huge tits flopping everywhere. I broke a damn good pair of binoculars that day.

I went inside and cried, in regret and pain. I had done this, made him this way, and I had no one to blame but me.

I'd usually sulk a day or so, then motor over and do my yoga on his patio, behind the privacy wall. I had a bad habit of forgetting my leotard. I was usually jumped about two thirds through my workout. I got to exercise other muscles then.

I was shocked beyond words when he called me over to share breakfast one morning. I could have sworn he had a woman over the night before. We were just enjoying our first cup of coffee when Sabrina walked out in a robe. They collapsed at the look on my face as I went from one to the other.

She hugged me.

"Surprise!"

She was obviously naked underneath the robe.

"How, why...what about Billy?"

A cloud passed over her face.

"Billy was just marking time until he vested. Then he and his little honey he's had on the side for five years were going to disappear into the sunset. The day he retired I had him served. At work, in the middle of his farewell party. I included lots of photos for him to share. Hope I didn't ruin it."

We split his retirement sixty forty my favor in return for a quiet divorce and no alimony. I ran into Roy and he took me to lunch. Then we had a few dinners, and finally, breakfast. Please don't be pissed."

I was, but there was shit I could do about it. So I relaxed, and we lazed around the patio like the old friends we were. My life had taken on an aura of surrealism.

We had just got done with a vigorous romp, and I was enjoying my afterglow when he hit me with a shock.

"You know, you and Sabrina were roommates in college and close for years. Were you ever...curious? I wouldn't judge you if you were. We could do a three way, flash back in a way."

I snorted. "That'll never happen! You can't do that!"

It hit me what I said as soon as it left my mouth.

He just grinned. "You know better than to say that."

.................................................

So he didn't burn her, but he didn't take her back. In the end, who got the better end of the deal?

Thanks as always for taking time to read this.

Who knows what I'll post next. One thing's for sure, it'll make some happy and piss others off. Either way I enjoy hearing form you, and as always, vote if you like.