69 comments/ 76789 views/ 21 favorites A Storied Romance By: Cobbler1023 This story has been rattling around in my head for a while and Peter seemed to want me to write it. As a "yank" I am poor at recreating British English. Anyone who has constructive suggestions on the subject would be welcomed to share them. The story, characters, and situation are totally fictional. Any relationship between this and anyone is purely coincidental. I wrote it with a wink and a nod to one of my favorites on Literotica--GaryAPB. In no way is this trying to suggest that I am any replacement for the master! Just a poor disciple offering his first full-length story. As one who hates waiting for the nexxt installment, I offer all three parts at once so you don't have to wait. Enjoy! - The Cobbler ***** "Hey Peter, got a moment," Todd said, sticking his head into my office. Until Todd Brooks dropped by my office, my week had been nearly perfect. "I've got to run down to the Quillum Building to meet with the folks at Wagner and McGee," he began. "Could you do me a favor?" "Sure. What is it?" "Look this over." He waved a thin manila folder. "It's something that I need to talk to you about." "No problem. When do you want to go over it?" "Meet me at Doyle's Irish Pub across the corner from the Quillum at 5:00. I'm buying. Everything in the folder should be should be self-explanatory." He handed me the file and rushed from the office. And with that, my streak of good luck ended. Until that moment, this had been the best week I'd had at work in months. My long project was coming to a very successful end. Better yet, it didn't look like I would have to make that extra trip to London as I had been warning my wife Sara. All the dots could be checked and every "T" crossed without needing to cross the pond. I knew that Sara, my sweet wife of 7 years, would be thrilled by that news. My recent string of overseas trips came at bad times. The last one had resulted in an argument. Sara was badly hurt that I would miss a gallery opening I had promised to attend. Since Sara is the person responsible for arranging major events for the Museum of Art, these gala events were a big deal for her. I managed to convince her that I had not planned the trip for the sole purpose of avoiding the task of escorting her to the event. * * * I didn't give Todd's folder much thought, setting it aside to be read when all else was finished. With my project coming to an end I would I had begun making arrangements to take a few days off. Perhaps Sara and I could spend a long weekend at that little Bed and Breakfast up by the lake. At four o'clock, I was totally caught up. My desk was clear and I decided to leave for the day. I grabbed a legal pad and Todd's folder and headed off to Doyle's to meet Todd. I figured I could read the information over and jot down some comments while I waited. Since I was at Doyle's, it seemed appropriate to order Guinness. After taking a long sip of the tangy stout, I opened the file for the first time. What I found was a thin dog-eared sheaf of papers with a note from Todd paper clipped to the top. Peter, I found this floating around my department. You need to take a close look. After you read it, you may want to skip our meeting. Don't!!! Meet me at Doyle's at 5:00 so we can talk. I'll try to get there early. Todd That, of course, only served to build my curiosity to a peak. In hindsight, I wished that I had tossed the whole folder in the trash. I might have been better off. My life would have turned out differently and I could have avoided a great deal of pain. What Todd had asked me to read was a story--a romance tale with explicit sexual content. There was nothing extraordinary about my first glance. It was entitled, "My Romance" by SAM33. So what was the deal here? Why was Todd anxious to read his favorite erotic find? I'm not a prude, mind you, but I've never made it a habit of reading things like that. My sex life with Sara was exciting enough without fantasizing about someone else! I couldn't imagine why Todd thought it important that I read this one. It didn't take me long to see why. Right there on the first page were all the clues I needed: the names Todd and Sara, and reference to a museum gala. Clearly, SAM33 was my sweet 33-year-old wife, Sara Ann Miller. Now that was a surprise! Never in my wildest dreams did I think Sara would be into writing--much less reading--erotic literature. This story was one I was anxious to read. Perhaps Sara and I could talk about it, or relive her fantasy later. I didn't have to read far before I began to have concerns about this story. My name never appeared in the document, but since it was written in the first person, I heard myself discussed when the narrator--my wife--referred to "my husband", or talked about having sex "in my every day life at home". The gist of the story was of an affair between Sara and a mysterious man only referred to as "my lover". The setting of the story was clearly at the most recent museum gala--the one that I had abruptly missed. What surprised me was that the rendezvous had been long planned. There was no doubt as to the author of the story--or its authenticity. A perfect description of the medium blue dress Sara had worn that night, together with events that took place in our living room when only she and I were present. I read the story over quickly, skipping most of the scene after the gala when her paramour took her to his hotel room and fucked her all night. I had no interest in knowing the details; the thought alone made me nauseous. T.S. Eliot wrote "April is the cruelest month". For me, March definitely looked to be the demonic one. At least it started out that way. Sara--my Sara--had cheated on me! She was the absolute last woman I would ever have expected to have been unfaithful! Sara was so reserved, betraying a very conservative set of values. The reality of what I read hurt worse than any pain I had ever felt. * * * I had developed a crush on Sara in the third grade. I often caught her glancing in my direction, too. She was my version of Charlie Brown's "little red-haired girl." In Sara's case, it would have been Peter Miller's "little sandy-haired girl." Neither of us ever approached the other about personal feelings because we were both painfully shy in matters of the heart. It wasn't until the homecoming game our freshman year of high school that I worked up the nerve to approach her. I took her to the game and the dance that followed our victory. I felt so awkward that I was certain that she would never--ever--want to go out with me again. I was shocked a few days later when she approached me in the lunch room and told me what a great time she had. By the smile on her face, I could tell she wasn't just being polite. We dated through the rest of high school. I was sure we would break up when college came, but she insisted on choosing the same university I did. By our sophomore year, we were engaged. The wedding took place in the middle of the summer after graduation. Sara was lucky enough to get a job at the museum immediately while I worked on my MBA. I signed a contract with Parker Price International just before receiving my degree. It's not that Sara and I didn't have any major disagreements. We had a couple very difficult years during the time she was working me through school. Aside from our early rough spots, everything else between us has been a dream. Oh, yes! We did have the occasional argument--like the one when I announced to her that I would not be able to attend the gala. But that kind of thing is normal in a marriage. There was no problem between us that we could not talk through openly and resolve promptly. So why would she cheat on me? Sara and I have always been satisfied with our sex life--or at least, I thought we were. Before we were married, we played around a bit, but legally speaking, we were both virgins on our wedding night. It was beautiful--a memory I cherished--at least to this moment. Our sex life wasn't wild, but what it lacked in fire it more than made up in intimacy. Sara was absolutely not interested in being creative; missionary position was good enough for her. Foreplay, however, could last forever. Since we made love with great regularity, it didn't matter to me how inventive we became. Now here I sat with the very thinly veiled description of a raucous suck and fuck night in some hotel room while I was in London! I felt waves of nausea wash over me. Todd roused me from my morose musings. "Sorry, buddy, but I knew you'd want to see that story." "What a fucking mess!" I said, absently swirling the last of my first Guinness. "I'm working my ass off to finish things with Ewan MacAdams at ITI's Financial Services and she's back here playing the whore." "I hated to be the one to break the news to you, but someone had to tell you, buddy. I found that copy being passed around my department. Most all the guys have read it and know who wrote it. One of them even asked me if I ever did the dirty with your wife." I glared at Todd. That thought hadn't occurred to me. "I wanted to bust him in the chops for making a crack like that!" Todd growled. I pushed the document into the middle of the table and we both stared at it as though we expected it to attack us. "Todd, when you left our house that day, you were supposed to be taking a week off to visit yours in Maryland. Was that true?" "Yes, and I can prove it. Call Anne or her parents. They'll vouch for me." He waved down a waiter and ordered another Guinness for each of us. I averted my eyes. "Sorry, Todd. It was a stupid question." "Peter, I'd never do something that rotten to you. But, if I were in your shoes, I'd have asked the same question." "What a fucking mess!" I took a deep breath, brushed the moisture from my eye, and swallowed the worst of my anger with the last drops of my first Guinness. "Sarah wants to go off the pill and start a family." I smirked at the irony. "Like that's going to happen now! But what do I do?" "Good question," Todd retorted. "Do you think you can ever forgive her?" I waited for our drinks to be delivered so I could have another sip before I answered. "You know, before this moment, I never had to face that question as a real possibility. It was something that happened to other guys. Sara and I were above that." I took another drink and looked into the murky depths of my glass. "I remember a few years ago, Sara's roommate divorced her husband after only three years of marriage. She discovered that he had cheated on her. Sara and I talked a lot about it and agreed that Beth was doing the right thing. Ted was an immature asshole who didn't realize what a good thing he had. Sara, herself, told Beth that any cheater should be kicked to the curb." I took another drink and swirled it around my mouth. "It was easy for us to dump on Ted. Only three years before he had agreed to be faithful 'as long as you both shall live'. Then he broke that vow with some bimbo from work. Beth found out and dumped him. It was all so simple and clear cut." "But that was Ted and this is Sara...." "...and it hurts like hell. I love her with all my heart. At the same time, I hate her guts and want her to roast in hell." "So what do you want to do?" There was the question again. I finished off my drink and waved off Todd's offer of a third. "I guess I have to do some digging. If this was a one-night stand, maybe with some counseling and patience we can get past it. If this is part of a longer affair, we're finished." Now it was Todd who took the long, deep, anguished sigh. "Well, old friend, I am afraid I can help you out. I checked the web site where the story was posted and there are two others there by SAM33. Both of them were written and posted before this one. All three are pretty much the same. You aren't mentioned by name. Sara is. This is thankfully the only one where I show up." He handed me a computer screen image of Sara's web page at the story site. "It's a free site, so check it out and draw your own conclusions." I accepted the paper and sniffed back a tear. A rock seemed lodged in my throat so all I could do was to offer Todd a weak smile. "Talk with Sara, man. Don't give up without a fight." "But will she be honest with me?" "You won't know unless you try. Don't give up until there's no hope. You owe it to each other." I knew deep down that Todd was right. What Sara and I had built should not be given up without a fight. In the end, we had one hell of a fight. Then I gave it up. * * * When I left Todd, I headed back to the office to think. The place was empty, but that was fine with me. I called home and left a message for Sara that I would be working late. Thank God for voice mail! God alone knew whom she was really with. I wasted no time in loading the website on my computer so that I could check Sara's other stories. While they were printing, I thought about the first one. The day portrayed in Sara's story was still crystal clear in my mind. It was a Friday and I had left the office early so that I could catch the evening flight to Heathrow. Saturday evening and all day Sunday I was to spend with Ewan MacAdams negotiating the heart of our agreement. Sara needed to be at the museum to go over the set up for the gala and to check on the caterer. She was working with a new crew and she didn't yet trust them. She was expecting me to accompany her. We'd been planning on it for months. Now she needed to go alone. That evening, Sara looked stunning. The dress was one she said she had picked out for a special night between the two of us--but now I wonder. Sara is not an over-the-top gorgeous woman. She tended to be a little heavy for her height. Her hair was short and a light shade of brown, but no one looked more gorgeous to me. I loved her heart and soul. We'd argued about my trip. Sara seemed more hurt than angry. I convinced her that I did not want to fly to London; I even showed her the cancellation slip for a room and the Hyatt Regency near the museum that I had booked for the night. Without me along, Sara could use the museum's guest room. We hugged and kissed, and swore our love for each other. Just as the two of us were about to head to our cars, Todd came to the door. He was carrying a fax that had just arrived. Under his arm he had a stack of folders that contained additional information that ITI wanted to discuss. As it turned out, this was information that sealed the deal with ITI. Just as Todd handed me the papers, Sara came downstairs, decked out to perfection in her stunning blue dress. "Whoa! Peter! You gotta rethink this trip, buddy! If Anne looked like Sara, I'd never let her out of my sight!" We joked a bit. Sara blushed. We laughed. And, we went out different ways. I remember waving to Anne who was sitting in the car waiting for Todd. That same scene appeared in Sara's story. At the beginning of the third paragraph of Sara's story, Todd stopped at the house, but I didn't appear to be present. Sara was dressed the same. Todd dropped by to leave me some information. When he saw Sara, he said, "Whoa! Peter's got to be crazy! If Anne looked like you, I wouldn't let you leave the house tonight!" This time it was Sara who waved at Anne as Todd returned to his car. It was all there--but there was more. She met her unnamed paramour at the reception. It had been previously arranged. They spent little time together at the gala because Sara was busy with behind the scenes details. After the party was over, he took her to his hotel room and they fucked the night away. Though I avoided the details, I could see indications of things she and I never did. Oral, doggy style, cow girl, reverse cow girl. No anal, but that didn't surprise me. Then again, there were already enough surprises in the story to last a lifetime! Sara didn't leave until late the next morning. The closest mention of me came when Sara told her lover, "I never get this kind of treatment at home!" That comment was like a stab to the heart. I never thought my love for Sara could erode so quickly. The website had two other stories. They were pretty much the same. It sounded as though she was with the same lover, but with no names, it was hard to tell. It was harder to pin down the precise day for these two stories, but both were at a hotel in town. One was a mid-day liaison--something Sara and I never did. The other was another all-nighter. Evidently, Sara enjoyed taking full advantage of my trips to London. At some point in the second story, her paramour made a comment referring to her normal sex life--a joking reference to how bad it normally was for her. Sara professed her love for me. She still fucked the evening away with her lover. * * * I sat for a long time with my legal pad in front of me as I jotted down thoughts and struggling to answer Todd's question. What do I want to do? I knew I had to talk with her, but hitting her with it broadside didn't sound like a good idea. "So Sara, I think you are cheating on me." Yea right! Two possible outcomes to that and neither are good. One is that she is guilty. Sara could never keep a secret from me; I can always read it in her face. Even Christmas surprises are transparent in Sara's smiles. The other possibility would be that she is innocent, but furious with my accusation. Just how long do I want to sleep on the couch? Even innocence would result in trauma and counseling. Not a pleasant prospect. As I wrote and doodled, a plan began to emerge. I would attempt to recreate the discussion we'd had when Beth and Ted divorced. There was a married guy in another department that fashioned himself as quite the Lothario. He was very discreet when in public, but around the office, he was known to regularly hit on all of the secretaries around. Amy, my own Personal Assistant, had complained about a time when he came on to her. I knew that I would be able to gather all the data I wanted from Sara if I phrased the conversation correctly. All I had to do was to remain cool and be observant. As a back up plan, I made arrangements to fly to London for a week anyway. Even though it wasn't necessary, I was willing to go the extra mile--if it meant getting out of the house for a week. It was after eight o'clock when I turned the computer off, packed up and headed home. I knew I would be setting a new record for how late I arrived home from work, but I didn't care. At least I could face Sara calmly. "Honey, you're home awfully late," Sara said cheerfully. She was curled up on the couch reading a novel. "I thought you were about done with that ITI thing." "A problem came up late this afternoon," I replied, giving just enough truth to avoid lying. "I needed to think it through." "Have you eaten? I can heat something up if you want, or..." "Thanks, but no thanks," I interrupted. "I'll just make a sandwich." Sara came and sat at the kitchen table while I worked. "By the way, I may have to fly to London after all." "When?" she said with a frustrated sigh. "I'll leave on either Saturday or Sunday--but it's not yet cast in stone. I'll be able to tell you more tomorrow." I got a beer to go with my sandwich and sat down opposite my wife. "Do you remember Dean from accounting?" I asked, initiating the crucial conversation. With a grunt of displeasure, Sara responded that she well remembered meeting him. "Well, it seems that he is in real trouble at home. His wife caught him!" "Good! I have never met anyone as slimy as that creep." "From what I hear, his wife discovered that he had finally bedded one of the women from the office and she kicked him out." "Serves him right! So far, Sara's face declared her innocence. She was honestly disgusted with Dean. I'd need to press further. A Storied Romance "I can't believe that anyone in your office would be dumb enough to fall for that guy's line of crap. Who was she?" "I don't want to say, but at least she was single." I finished my sandwich and took a long pull on the long neck. "Good news is that she dumped him, too." Sara laughed at that comment. Good. It was the setup line. "It seems that he wrote the story up and posted it on a couple internet porn sites. He wasn't even smart enough to change the names or details." Sara became quiet. "Can you believe him? Of course, I'd never cheat on you in the first place, but seriously! Bragging about it?" The light in Sara's eyes became hollow. She was disappearing from me. Not a good sign. "I know what you mean," she responded stiffly. I put my dishes away and excused myself to take a shower. When I came back, Sara was again in her corner of the couch reading. I picked up my book and sat on the other end of the couch. I pretended to read, turned the pages at the proper intervals, looked toward the words in front of me, but the only thing on my mind was the conversation at the kitchen table. Sara was guilty and I knew it. Her eyes told the whole story. The only question was what I wanted to do about it. * * * The following morning at work, I confirmed a trip to London. I planned to leave Sunday morning. That would give me a chance to rest and begin to adjust to the time change. The happy side benefit was that I would only need to be pleasant to Sara Friday evening and all day Saturday. I debated confronting Sara, but decided against selecting the nuclear option until I was fully prepared to withstand the fallout. A week away would give me time to think and prepare. My final days at home before the trip went better than I could have expected. Sara was busy in her office drawing up plans for the next gallery opening gala and I had no reason to disturb her. Friday night we cuddled before going to sleep. All I could think about was her decision to cheat on me. Why would she do that, knowing what she was risking? Saturday was much the same. Sara wasn't feeling well and as a result, she was not interested in becoming intimate. I feigned frustration, but silently celebrated. Sunday I was at the airport early and headed off to Heathrow. I no more than got on the airplane than I realized that I should have hired an investigator to watch Sara. I was headed out of town and that was prime time for her to schedule a rendezvous. Well, I hadn't been thinking too rationally for the past few days. My normal calm persona had been replaced by a hothead! Ewan MacAdams was thrilled to meet me for breakfast on Monday. "It's a pleasant surprise to see you again, Peter!" he said as he greeted me. "We could have signed off on this without you making a special trip." "We've put a lot of effort into this, Ewan. I just didn't want to risk something coming up at the last minute." "The Board will be impressed by your dedication. Some of them are anxious to meet you, too." We had a pleasant chat over breakfast, talking about the up coming confrontation between the United States and the United Kingdom in the World Cup. For good reason, Ewan dismissed our chances of victory. Though I knew very little about what Ewan knew as football, I still pressed our chances hard--if only to goad my new friend. As we walked to the ITI Financial Building, Ewan said, "Have dinner with me tonight. I have a proposal I would like you to think about." "What kind of an offer?" I queried. Ewan smiled coyly. "Tonight at dinner! We'll talk then. Now, let's get ready to meet the ITI Legal Team and sell this agreement. Ewan and I spent the day going over every detail of the plan that we would present to the Legal Team for the joint effort between ITI and Parker Price. Neither of us wanted even the slightest detail to go unchecked; it represented far too much work and a great deal of money for both corporations. I carefully prepared a PowerPoint presentation, tweaking it until I was satisfied. At six o'clock I went back to the hotel to prepare for dinner. Ewan met me at seven. He took me to a quiet neighborhood pub with excellent food and quality ale. I allowed Ewan to take the lead, waiting until he broached the subject of a new proposal. "Peter, I'm surprised you haven't pressed me for information," he said as we leaned back after finishing our meal. "I know you'll get around to sharing what you have in mind." I responded. "I'm just focusing on finishing the job at hand. There'll be time later to discuss new projects." "Ah, but this is not a new project--at least not in the usual sense of the word. This would be something totally different." Ewan paused while our table was cleared of dishes. "My number 2 man just moved on to bigger and better things with a firm from Germany. Since the only logical move for him at ITI would involve my position, I was forced to wish him a fond farewell. That leaves a critical opening at just the moment ITI and Parker Price are beginning a new joint venture and I want you to fill that slot." I was stunned. "I have no idea what they will think about this back home, but I'd love to hear more. Will your Board go along with that?" Ewan nodded. "The big man already had a conversation with Daniel Price. Parker Price would be willing to second you to us for the foreseeable future. We would pay all of your benefits with Parker Price and offer you and your wife a generous housing allowance. I don't know what you are making back in the States, but between you and me, I suspect that if you play it right, you can come aboard ITI with a generous increase in salary." I told Ewan I would think about it and let him know before the meeting with the Board of Directors. The truth was that this was a gift from heaven, though I didn't want to sound too excited. The only problem was that I had no idea where my life was headed at the moment, and had even less of an idea when I would figure that out. The next morning I again met Ewan for breakfast. I explained the dilemma in which I found myself. "How long do I have before I have to give you a definitive answer? It's a great offer and I'm really interested in jumping on it. If things go south with Sara, this would be a godsend. But I need a little time." "Can you give me an answer by the end of the month? That would give you just over three weeks." "Perfect. That way I can wind thing down at Parker Price. I wouldn't want to leave anything hanging. I owe them that, at least." I spent the trip back home deep in thought. Somehow I needed to get to the bottom of Sara's secret life. Stalking her would not work, since the only evidence I had came during times I was out of town. The other option was to hire a professional to find the answers. I rejected that because I hated spending money to prove what I basically already knew. Besides, I did not intend to leave on a trip during the next three weeks. If I had wanted to hire someone, I should have done that before I left for London. In the end, I decided to take the direct approach. I decided to watch and wait. I have a couple weeks; I try to gather more information--such as another story. Maybe if I studied the stories again and made a list of possible lovers, I could learn something. As usual, Sara seemed excited to have me back home again. Since secrets appeared to be a way of life in our home, I mentioned nothing about the job offer at ITI. I spoke only of the great success of the proposal and, like a true wife, Sara was thrilled for me. When asked about her life during my absence, Sara said that other than going to work as usual, she stayed home and puttered on a few projects around the house. I didn't detect any major changes around the house, however. Whatever the projects were, I saw no evidence. Sara and I made love that night and slipped back into our regular schedule. The way I figured it, if she had been cheating on my already, it didn't hurt to keep up appearances. I never thought that there was anything wrong with our love life. I made no offer to try any of the new things that featured so prominently in Sara's stories. The idea of trying something out that she had already practiced on someone else unsettled my stomach. True to form, exactly one week to the day from my return home, a story showed up on Sara's website. It was much the same as the rest, containing explicit descriptions of sexual encounters between Sara and her paramour while I was in London. I was barely a footnote--included only by inference. Toward the end of the story, Sara wrote how she "wished she could enjoy this kind of sex every night." When I went into the office the following morning, it seemed as though every single man in the office was giving me a knowing smirk. "Poor dumb shit. His wife is cuckolding him and he hasn't a clue. For some reason, those looks were even worse than the thought of what Sara was doing. I thought about calling Todd and inviting him to Doyle's, but the thought of talking publicly about my humiliation was just too much. Instead, I decided that it was time to confront Sara once and for all. I left the office early, hoping to beat Sara back to the house. In retrospect, it probably would have been a better idea to have confronted Sara immediately on my return. Instead of being furious, I would have been hurt and angry. Perhaps we might have been able to talk our way through the situation. Instead, I hit Sara almost as soon as she got home. Sara arrived at her usual time. She came through the door and dropped her briefcase on her desk, kicked off her heels, and went to the refrigerator to retrieve her favorite bottled water and then came to the living room where I was sitting with a Samuel Adams. "Honey, I'm so glad you're home tonight," she sighed. "I am exhausted; you wouldn't believe the work that Dr. Richards gave me today. And to think that it's only Thursday." I opened the folder that I had been holding, pulled out a stapled stack of papers, and tossed it on the coffee table in the middle of the room. I made sure that it was facing Sara so that she could read it clearly. "Sara, did you write this," Pointing to the dog-eared copy of the story Todd had shared with me." Sara's face went almost crimson. I knew at once that I wasn't going to like the rest of the conversation. "Yes, I wrote it, Peter," she said, hesitantly. "Then that means you also wrote these." I tossed out the other three stories--including her latest posting. "Yes I did, but..." I could feel the heat burning hotter within me. "Damn it, Sara! How long have you been cheating on me? Don't you remember the conversations we had about Beth and Ted? You had to know how I would react when I found out." Sara started to respond, but I waved her off. Sara's face was frozen in frustration. "Todd discovered the first one--or should I say, the third story of you fucking your lover behind my back. He said that it was being passed around the office. Do you know how it feels to discover that every guy in the place knows that I'm being played for the fool?" Sara's eyes flared and she bit her lip, averting her eyes from me. "Why would you do it, Sara? Do you hate me that much?" "At the moment," she said in an unusually calm voice, "I hate you that much and more!" That response was not part of the game plan. I had no response ready for her. "What right do you have to sit there and accuse me of cheating?" she barked. Now I exploded like independence Day fire works. I allowed the anger to control me, rather than me controlling it--as I should have. "What right?" I bellowed. "I'm your godamn husband and right there on the coffee table is a first hand description of four of the time you fucked your lover behind my back. God alone knows how many times there were that never made it into print!" Sara picked up the stories and threw them at me. "Fuck you!" she snapped. "I don't have to sit here and take this shit form you--not after the crappy day I already had." She jumped up and stormed out. "Sara, come back. We need to talk this out. I need to know what..." "For the time being, you already know all you need to know. You're in no mood to hear more." "Sara...!" "Go to hell, you bastard!" Sara stopped in the bedroom only long enough to grab a few things and then she headed out the door. "Sara! Come back and talk with me." She silently headed for the garage door. "Where are you going? Sara!" "Where do you think I'm going?" "To your lover!" "Yeah! That's right!" As she opened the door to the garage, she turned to me and said, "I sure have no interest in staying with you tonight!" A moment later I heard her car start and back out of the driveway. Well, that was that! Had Sara been innocent of all charges, she would normally have stayed and calmly talked about things. Leaving as she did only confirmed to me her guilt. Sara was barely out the door when I called Ewan at his home number. I told him that things were moving faster than I anticipated and that I'd take the position as soon as possible. I asked him if I could have the job outright, severing completely the relationship with Parker Price. He was sure that could be worked out. I asked him if someone could search out available flats that I might look at after I arrived. "I don't know the first thing about finding a flat in London," I said. "I'll do better than that. I'll find someone to go along and help you select one." I got precious little sleep that night. The following morning I submitted my resignation to Daniel Price. Because I was going to ITI, he felt it best if the break was immediate. My only request was that the location of my new job be kept confidential. I shared with him the sorry state of my personal life. My second priority for the day was to make an appointment with a lawyer. I chose Sandra Howe because she had a good reputation. Because of a cancellation, she squeezed me in that afternoon. She promised to draw up a simple no-fault divorce with a 50-50 split of the few assets Sara and I shared. The house had very little equity, so I told her to either sell it or give it to Sara. I didn't care which. Finally, I signed a power of attorney so that my lawyer could proceed with the divorce without me being present. My final run was to the bank. I closed out all joint credit cards and removed half of the money in the checking and savings. On the way home to pack, I stopped at the cell phone company and cancelled my account. I'd get a new one when I arrived in London. Saturday I packed up my clothes and a few other things and booked a room in the hotel nearest the airport. By Sunday morning, I was on a nonstop flight to Heathrow, not expecting to ever look back. And with that, my life changed completely. It would never look the same again. * * * * * * * * Ch. 02 I have no idea what Sara did after my departure. She had no way to contact me. I left no forwarding address other than my lawyer's office. She had no telephone number. The receptionist at work was told to simply inform her that I no longer worked for Parker Price. She and her lover could live happily ever after without bothering me. I was out of the game--and had little intention in playing the field. My full attention was going to be given to my career. Ewan had reserved me a room at the Heathrow Crown Plaza until I could decide on a more permanent location. By the time I got to London, it was late by the local time and I was exhausted. I collapsed into bed and slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The time difference caught up to me the following morning when I was roused from my sleep by a knock at the door. The clock by the bedside said 10 am, but my internal clock objected to being awakened at 4 am. I quickly pulled on my sweats and peaked through a crack in the door. A pretty little redhead stood smiling at me, holding in her hands two coffees. "Just a minute," I mumbled while I unfastened the safety lock. "Sorry if I popped by too early, but at least I did bring coffee. My name is Fiona Kelly." Her voice had a sweet lilt to of an accent. "Ewan MacAdams asked me to help you sort out a lease on a flat. If I am too early, I can wait in the lobby." In my imagination, Fiona Kelly was the perfect image of a leprechaun. Her voice betrayed her Gaelic heritage. She stood almost a head shorter than I--no more than five foot three or four inches tall at the most. She seemed all the shorter because she wore flat shoes rather than heels. Her makeup was sparse and her hair was cut in a short, easy to care for style. Rather than being curvy, Fiona had the solid, uniformly slim, and toned body of an athlete. I guessed that if I should find myself interested in an athletic club or a jogging course, Fiona would be well suited to provide the information. I wouldn't call Fiona a beauty; neither was she a "plain Jane". She was more than pleasant to look at. Had she worked harder, I had no doubt that she would be quite pretty, but Fiona didn't seem to care about the surface details. Nothing about her looked poor or slovenly. It had been carefully chosen from the nicer shops, but with a particular look in mind. She was clearly comfortable with who she was. "I need to shower and shave," I said, swallowing a yawn. If you don't mind, you're welcome to wait out here." "No problem," "Good! I'll be ready in a few minutes. You sit here and enjoy your coffee." "Oh no, these are both for you. I fancy tea myself, but I'm told that without coffee, you yanks aren't fit for the light of day." "Something like that," I responded, chuckling at her coy wit. I spent the entire day with Fiona. She had four flats for me evaluate. I was frankly shocked at the price I would need to pay for a simple two-bedroom apartment. The first stop was clearly out of my ballpark. It was beautiful and partially furnished. Still, the cost was prohibitive. Besides, it seemed a bit too posh for my tastes. As a single man, I only needed a simple space--one bedroom and another that I could use for an office. I politely suggested that Fiona take me to her second choice. This one was more my style--not too ornate and somewhat smaller. The cost was only slightly more affordable than the first one. It was too far from the ITI-Financial Services Building, though. I told Fiona that I wanted to see option three. There was a lot to like about this flat. It was very compact. I frankly could not see how one of the bedrooms could have been used for anything other than an office. The kitchen was new and well lit. I could see myself in this place. It was also fairly close to the ITI building. Still, the cost put me off. I told Fiona that we should stop and get something to eat. I wasn't sure if my body was calling for breakfast, lunch or a mid-day snack, but I was ready for something. Fiona took me to a neighborhood pub near the flat we had just visited. The food was excellent and I found that I could get a pretty decent cold Fosters. So a life of warm beer was not in my future after all. The meal with Fiona was a true joy. She had a brisk, sharp sense of humor that kept me wanting to get to know her more, but it was the impish twinkle in her eye and effervescent smile that drew me in. I was in her presence no more than five minutes before I felt perfectly at ease. The quiet banter over lunch made it feel as though Fiona and I had known each other all our lives, not half a day. We talked about everything from American politics to music, to the latest cinema releases. Everything about the conversation clicked perfectly. We even managed to have a calm, non-threatening chat about Sara and my pending divorce. When our meal break began stretching toward an hour and a half without my even being aware of it, I knew that I had at least one friend in the UK. It felt good. For the first time in weeks, I had not thought about the horror that my life had become and I was beginning to move forward. A Storied Romance "Peter," Fiona began when the conversation began to drag. "Do you mind if I ask what you didn't like about the first three flats? It might me to choose some that would be more to your tastes." "I liked all three, Fiona. I especially liked the last one. It's just that...well, frankly I'm afraid of the cost." "You have talked with Ewan about wages?" "Of course." "Then you must know that you will have no trouble affording any of these flats." When I hesitated in making a response, Fiona continued, "My flat is quite comparable to ones we have seen and I am only an accounting clerk. As Deputy Director, you should have no trouble affording something much more elegant than these." "I have simple tastes, Fiona, and simple needs. 'Elegant' has never something I strive toward." As I finished the last of my coffee, I took in the simple, unadorned beauty of the woman across from me. "Why don't I let you tell me which one you think fits me best?" A smile lit Fiona's face. "Good! Then let's go back and sign a lease on choice number three." Fiona turned out to be a harsh negotiator. The final cost on the lease was well within my comfort level. Still, not everything that was going on in the conversation between Fiona and my new landlord was obvious to me. All I cared about was the outcome. When we were finished, we returned to the pub for a quick pint. When they arrived, Fiona said, "Well, welcome to the neighborhood, Peter!" "You live near here?" Fiona nodded. "I've lived near here for several years." "So why did you choose this one for me?" "Oh, I knew the instant you walked through the door that this was the one for you. You need something cozy, not glamorous." "And that made you decide that this one was right." A coy smile crept across Fiona's face. "That--and the fact that I live in a flat just across the street." I couldn't help laughing. "Good. Maybe we can ride to the office together." "Are you certain that a Deputy Director should walk in to the office with a lowly accounting clerk? Consider the scandal!" "I don't know how things are in London, but where I come from its always fine for a Deputy Director to be seen with a friend." * * * I confess that I was strongly attracted to Fiona. She quickly became a best friend--but that was all I was comfortable allowing her to become. Once burned, twice cautious. Besides, I was technically still a married man. I had not heard from my lawyer since arriving in London and I had no idea how things stood. When I didn't hear from my lawyer by the end of the second week, I gave him a call. "She was served papers the very day you left for London," he informed me. "I can tell you that she was caught off guard. It's been a while since I've seen anyone so broken up about it." "Is she going to fight the terms? I thought I was being rather generous--considering." "I don't know yet. So far, her lawyer is giving me the run around. We have a court date next week. We'll know more then." Somehow, that didn't surprise me. With a boyfriend already picked out, Sara had no reason to rush. My guess was that she was again trying to stick it to me. Well, I wasn't going to take the bait. If she wanted to drag it out, she was welcome to do it. She would run out of money long before I did. I could focus my attention on my job, and with Fiona around, life looked pretty good. Fiona was invaluable over the first few months as I settled into life and work in a new office, new city, and new country. She never ceased to tease me about my American way of speaking and doing things. Of course, I teased her right back. At first, Fiona met only for the occasional lunch at a pub near the office. It wasn't too long before the two of us expanded our horizons to dinner and theatre or a concert. We discovered that we both had a deep love for the same kinds of music. We became a regular feature at the Royal Festival Hall. Still, our dates were merely platonic--though it was clear to both of us that there was a growing attraction. "Where are we heading, Peter? Do we have a chance at a real relationship?" Fiona asked as we stopped for a nightcap after a particularly moving performance of the Fauré Requiem. "I'm still married, Fin. I know I've been in London three months, now, but the pain of what Sara did to me is still rather fresh. You're sure making it go away, though. If you are still interested, ask me again when Sara set's me free." She smiled warmly and laid her head on my shoulder. "Count on it," she whispered. After a long silence, she added, "Fin. I like the sound of that, by the way. No one has ever called me that." I gave her what was undoubtedly the most intimate kiss that we had shared to date. Still, in the total scope of things, it was very tame. "Actually," I admitted when the embrace ended, "It was an accident." "That makes it even more special--coming from you." I wrapped my arm around her and we snuggled through another glass of wine. Then, Fiona gently pulled back, turned, and kissed me gently. "I think I love you, Peter. I'm willing to wait, but I want you to know that I really think we can have something really special." We quickly returned to my flat. We had barely closed the door when we repeated the embrace we had shared earlier. In fact, we quickly turned up the heat, devouring each other with our kisses. For months we had maintained a chaste friendship. We had danced around something a great deal more intimate, but either of us had been willing to make the first move. Now we raced forward with no intention of turning back. On this special evening, the feelings we both shared burst forth. *** Fiona took me by the hand, began leading me through my apartment, and didn't stop until she arrived at my bedroom. We stood facing each other for a moment, drinking in the magical sight of love at its purest moment. "Fin, I need you to know that I am still married. My lawyer is supposed to be pushing Sara to sign the papers, but for some reason, she is still delaying things." Fiona tried to quiet me with a kiss, but after enjoying her lips, I continued to speak. "Sara can delay all she wants to, Fin, but it won't change anything between us. I stopped loving her when she admitted to cheating on me." I slid my fingers into her silky red hair and cupped the back of her head. Tenderly I touched my lips to hers. "Fiona, I've been falling head-over-heals in love you from the first day we spent together. I hope you never doubt that." Instantly, all rational thought was lost. Following a frantic pulling of clothes, we entwined ourselves on the bed. Our first time was a frenetic mating of two souls in perfect bliss. Following that was the long, slow dance of love that lasted well into the early hours of the morning. Fiona fell asleep nestled in the hollow of my arm and though I tried to stay awake so I could enjoy the pleasure of watching her, I slipped into a quiet and contented slumber. The following morning, we continued to explore our newfound interest in lovemaking. By Sunday evening, the reality of our situation began to hit me. "Fin, I'm not sure a romance within the office is a good idea. I'm not sure if ITI has any legal objections, but it might be uncomfortable for both of us." "I was thinking the same thing, Peter. I'll have a nice chat with my uncle tomorrow and see what he can do for me. I'm ready for a new challenge anyway." "Your uncle?" "Uncle Ewan." When my face evidently betrayed no understanding, she clarified. "Ewan MacAdams--he's my mother's brother." I gave her a frustrated look. "And just when were you going to tell me this little tidbit of news, young lady?" Fiona shrugged impishly. "Oh, sometime before the wedding?" "Wedding, huh?" I gave her a hug. "I like the sound of that. Unfortunately, Sara might have an objection." Fiona gave me a gentle kiss. "I can wait." * * * Over the next few weeks, I kept a constant phone vigil with my lawyer. "She just won't sign, Peter," Sandra Howe, my lawyer, said one Friday afternoon when I gave her a call. "Hell--between you and me--she won't even negotiate in good faith." The frustration we both felt dripped from her voice. "I think she's determined to drive you both into the poorhouse. Just when I think we've hit the bottom of the legal maneuvering, her lawyer comes up with a new petition and things slip to a new low." "What is she holding out for? Tell her I'll pay it." "I know that she wants to meet with you face-to-face." "Not going to happen, counselor! I'm not going to listen to the lies that she and her lover concocted. Tell her it's over!" "I'll try again, but I'm afraid it won't do any good. Can't you just talk to her on the phone? Maybe that will satisfy her. After all, there is quiet a distance between the two of you." "After she signs," I replied, trying desperately to control my frustration. "Look Sandra, if she wants to play games, I can play games. Match her delay for delay, legal run around for legal run around. She'll run out of money long before I do." "Peter, are you sure you want to do this? It's only a phone call..." "...to the woman who broke my heart!" I cursed Sara as I hung up the phone. Now I needed to find a way to break the news to Fiona. That turned out to be easier than I thought. About an hour after I got home that night, I was in the kitchen rustling up some dinner. Abruptly, there was a ghastly noise in the entryway. When I went to check it out, Fiona was directing traffic as a caravan of volunteers moved her things into my flat. "My! Aren't we presumptuous?" I teased as I wrapped Fiona in my arms. "Shouldn't I have asked you first--before you moved in?" Fiona tried to pull free, but I pulled her even tighter. "Wait, guys...." Fiona got no further with her order when I planted a long, warm, and very enjoyable kiss on her mouth. She virtually melted into my arms. When she was fully relaxed, I broke the embrace just long enough to whisper, "Fin, why don't you move in with me? It would save a lot of running back and forth between flats." Before she could answer, I touched my lips to hers. "Why, Peter! What a brilliant idea! What made you think of it?" About that time, I smelled something burning in the kitchen. "Oh, shit!" I gasped as I rushed off in a vain effort to mitigate the damage to my dinner. When the noise in the other room quieted, Fiona crept into the kitchen, came up behind me, and wrapped her arm around my waist as she surveyed the blackened mess in the skillet. "Did I do that?" "Have no fear, sweet Fin! The meat is fine. That was merely a ginger glaze. I'll have a replacement finished before you're ready for dinner." I wrapped Fiona in my arms. "I'm going to love this new arrangement," I said before resuming the embrace that had been interrupted my culinary mishap. "Did you talk with your lawyer?" I winced at the question. I'd been hoping that it could wait until after dinner. "Yes." "I'm not going to like this conversation, am I?" "Sara is being a pain. It looks like this may take longer than I want." Fiona looked disappointed. I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her gently. "This changes nothing, Fin. I am going to marry you. You and I are going to live happily ever after. We just have to wait Sara out. She can't hold out forever." "In fact..." I took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. "Peter, I can wait until after dinner," she responded, chuckling. "I can't!" I retorted. I led her to my dresser, dug into the back of my underwear drawer, and retrieved the small box I had hidden there only a week ago. Opening the box, I said, "Fiona Kelly, will you marry me?" Fiona gazed in shock at the diamond ring staring back at her. It was the largest one that I could afford and--at least to me--looked rather impressive. It was definitely larger than the one I had purchased for Sara. Fiona stared in disbelief for a moment. When she reached for the ring, her touch was tentative. She looked as though she believed the ring would disappear. I began to worry as she silently ran her finger across the stone. "Oh, Peter," she whispered. "I--I didn't expect we'd get to this point until after your divorce came through." She threw her arms around me and smothered me with kissed. Her joyous tears wet my face as well as hers. "Of course I'll marry you." Needless to say we rushed through dinner and spent the rest of the night in bed, celebrating our new beginning. Our coupling was frenetic, with a passionate effervescence I hoped we would never loose. Long before either of us were ready to go to sleep, we were both well sated. Neither of us, however, was interested in leaving bed. We lay together well into the night, whispering our love to each other. I was on my back; Fin lay with her leg draped between mine and her head nestled on my shoulder. Eventually we did manage to fall asleep, though how we slept is anyone's guess. We awoke in the very same position the following morning. I awoke first; Fin's red hair tickling my cheek. Her scent was hypnotic. Slowly, I slid my hand down until I cupped her butt. Then I lightly massaged her bottom, hoping to sooth her awake. I discovered that I had achieved success only when Fin responded by slowly wrapping her hand around my already hard cock. Her giggle further betrayed her. Without a word, I pulled Fin on top of me, lifting her enough to enable me to slid into her warm, moist center. "Mmmm!" she purred. "And to think, I'm going to be able to wake up like this every morning. I really am going to like that." "I know what you mean. I've never been so happy to see daybreak! What say we stay here all day?" "We've got to get out and eat," Fin teased. "Oh, I don't know," I retorted, taking up the challenge. "I think I can survive." Then I nuzzled under Fin's hair and playfully nipped at her neck. Fin squealed in delight and started wiggling, as though she were trying to get away. That only served to awaken our lower quarters. An instant later, joking was set aside and lovemaking resumed in earnest. We didn't spend the whole day in bed, but we did spend it in very close proximity. Between our lovemaking interludes, we sat snuggled together on the couch. I'm not certain whether we were making out or snogging, as Fin called it. I suspect it depended on which of us you asked. Either way, we were thrilled to do it and enjoyed it with phenomenal enthusiasm. *** That was the beginning of the most blissful period of time in my entire life. Both Fin and I were as close to nirvana as mortals can reach. Even the news Fiona gave me a month later didn't phase me. Instead of fear and panic it only resulted in a greater euphoria. "Peter," Fin began, a nervous flutter in her voice. "I--I have some news, and I'm afraid it might be unpleasant." I folded her in my arms and gently reassured her. "It can't be bad as long as you're here with me." Fin grimaced. Then, taking a deep breath, she said, "Peter, I'm pregnant." "I pushed her back so that I could look into her eyes."You're serious?" "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know..." I didn't let her finish. I scooped her off her feet and gave her a long, passionate kiss. "Oh, god, Fin! That's wonderful! I love you so much!" When she realized that I was neither mad nor anxious to leave her, she wrapped herself around me--arms and legs. When we came up for air, I took Fin out to celebrate. The festivities ended, of course, with a long night of love gymnastics. I doted on Fin now more than ever. If Fiona ever doubted that I love for her, I gave her every reason to abandon that notion. The accidental pregnancy seemed like a gift from God. It had definitely not been in our plan, but I welcomed the growing bump in Fiona's tummy with open arms. I became very vocal about looking forward to late fall when the baby was due to arrive. At work, I thrived like I had never done before. Ewan noticed the difference immediately. Maybe it was the added responsibility of providing for an extra human being--but whatever it was, Ewan MacAdams was thrilled with the work he was producing. The only thing that dampened my enthusiasm was the delay in finalizing the divorce. I so badly wanted to marry Fin before the baby was born, but Sara appeared to be just as stubborn and intransigent as before. Things changed suddenly one day in early September. It began with the unexpected arrival of Todd Brooks. The stated reason for his visit was for consultation on the status of the joint effort between Parker Price International and ITI, but it quickly became apparent that Todd and an ulterior objective. "Talk with her, Peter. It's all a lot more complex that it seems," Todd begged almost as soon as I dropped him off at the hotel. I agreed to talk more about it later and Todd acquiesced only when I gave a solemn promise to sit down and talk about Sara. "Look, Todd, you relax now, but I'll pick you up at 6:30 for dinner. I want to treat you to the best meal you will ever have in London." "And were might that be?" "You'll see. Just rest, dress comfortably, and I'll pick you up later." I picked Todd up precisely at the agreed upon time. I felt like a like a kid with a new toy as I directed the cabbie to our flat. I was so excited to have someone from home to introduce to Fiona. "So, if I'd known you were cooking dinner, I'd have insisted that I pay. I can only imagine what kind of cook you are." "Oh ye of little faith!" I retorted. "Fiona is an excellent cook and she has fussed about dinner all day! You won't be disappointed--trust me!" As soon as I ushered Todd into the flat, Fiona joined them, her apron barely covering her obvious baby bulge. "Todd Brooks, I want you to meet the most beautiful cook in the world--and soon to be the mother of my child--Fiona Kelly." Todd stared at Fiona for a moment in obvious surprise before giving her a warm hug. "Since you haven't yet gotten hitched to this mug, I demand the chance to privately share with you a few stories. There is still time to talk some sense into you!" "Oh, I think I can match you story-for-story. Truth is, I rather fancy this roguish sod. In spite of what you may want to tell me, I think I'm going to keep him anyway." She rubbed her pregnant tummy. "Or should I say, we are going to keep him. Little Iain is going to need his father." "You still think it's not going to be Brianna?" I teased. "Not a chance! If you had to carry him around inside you, you'd know the truth of it, too! This wee thing is definitely going to be Iain Peter Miller." Changing the subject, I told Fiona wife, "Todd is here to talk about the joint effort, but since he is a long-time friend, he wants to update me on the state of my divorce." "Not until after dinner!" Fin ordered. "It's ready to be put on the table." Todd admitted that I had indeed told the truth about Fiona's culinary skills. After a wonderful scotch broth and mixed green salad, Fin served a rack of lamb with roasted baby potatoes and green beans. When she asked whether we wanted desert, both Todd and I groaned--but gratefully accepted a slice of a wonderful frozen tort. "Peter, my friend," Todd began as he pushed his chair back from the table, "if you eat like that, I wonder why the two of you aren't as big as a house!" "Well...," I began, giving Fin an impish smile as she started clearing the table. "Hey, buddy! I know how Fiona got to look that way, and it had nothing to do with what she ate!" When Fin came back for more dished, I pulled her into my lap. She gave me a tender kiss on the cheek and tried to get up. I held her back. "I'll get that later, love. You just rest." "See what I have to put up with?" she teased, giving Todd a shrug.