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Conrad and Pamela Winston

By: Matt Moreau



"He's a good guy, Conrad. He's no threat to us, and he's nobody gonna be spreading any bad stuff about us out there either. Okay?" she said.

"No, it's not okay. You're either his or you're mine. Which is it going to be, Pamela. There is no in between. Call him now tell him he's history or I am. History that is," I said.

I'm Conrad Winston. Age thirty-eight. I'm a building contractor, mostly commercial stuff. Pay's good, 200K annual on average. 

Pamela my wife is twenty-eight, average looking, slim, and kind a tall; but, she is young and she is sexy. I won the lottery getting her to marry me; for her part she won my income and security. Seemed like a fair trade to me at the time. That said. 

Now she wants to sweeten the pot—her half of it—by having a lover. His name is Ron Pollard. Tall, slim, good looking, got a little money as I've been able to find out, but it's mostly tied up in houses he can't sell for what he paid for them, so it's problematical. Oh, and he's thirty-two! Chance I'll go along with her doing him? Really really slight!

"Conrad, lighten up, okay. Me doing him is just for the variety. I don't 'need' him and you don't need to worry about him. If you were able to get it up more than you do now; well, I wouldn't even need the guy," she said.

"So you're doing him because I don't satisfy you, not just because you want variety," I said.

"Both, sort of, okay. I mean variety yes. And, it isn't that you don't satisfy me, I mean not exactly. You do when you do me, but you're limited. All men are limited. When you run out of spunk, you're done. And, usually I need more. A woman doesn't have those kinds of limitations," she said. "Am I getting through to you?"

"I don't like it, and I'm not going to be putting up with it," I said. "You wanna be a whore. I'm gone. Got it?" She sighed.

"Jesus, I never should have told you," she said. "But—I just didn't want to be keeping things from you anymore. It would have been far more hurtful for you if you'd caught me. I know it. I know the male ego. 

"Yeah, well it is kinda hard to argue with you on that one. But, that said—fuck you!" I turned and headed out.

I was talking Humphrey Bogart, but inside I was Don Knots. My stomach was roiling, my heart was beating an irregular staccato, and I was praying to all the gods at once that my staunch position on the matter would get her to stop her cheating on me. But, even then, could I forgive the cheating cunt! Hell if I knew—yet.

******

When I left I had determined to stay out and away from her until she made up her mind one way or the other. At any rate that's what I was telling myself. The Horseshoe Inn was close to work and cheap. I had a small bag of clothes with me and a few other necessaries. I could hold out for a short time. 

The morning after our discussion found me antsy and alone and lonely and wringing my hands. I needed her. Hell, she needed me too. I knew that this boyfriend of hers was a player. I had to think that she did too. She just couldn't believe that she wasn't his one and only. Hell, he had a reputation for dropping women, when he was done with them, like hot rocks.

I thought it telling that she so far hadn't called me. But, then she did. I was eating breakfast at the café across the street from the Horseshoe. My phone was on vibrate; it buzzed. I looked, sure enough it was her. I answered it.

"I'm eating Pam, whaddya want?' I said, that in my most sardonic tone.

"Conrad, please come home. I need you. Okay? Please?" she said.

"You dumping shit head?" I said, silence on the other end of the line.

"Conrad, please, come home. We'll talk. If I can't convince you to lighten up about him, I will break it off with him. How's that?" she said. Now, I had gone silent. She couldn't convince me, so according to her; I would be getting my way: she'd be dumping the asshole.

"How do I know you'll keep your word. I mean you know damn well, I'm not going to knuckle under to letting you fuck another man," I said.

"Maybe, but At least give me a decent chance to convince you. Okay?" she said.

"A decent chance to convince me that it's okay for you to be indecent with him? That about it?" I said.

"Conrad!" she said.

"Okay, Pam, I'll be there tomorrow. Tomorrow's Sunday. I'll be there around 10AM. You be there, or I'm history, and you'll be talking to me through my lawyer. We understand each other?" I said.

"Yes, okay," she said. "And thank you. I know it seems a little weird to you now. I understand that, but it's not the bad thing you think it is, really."

"Tomorrow, at 10AM." I hung up.

She sat by the phone and stared at it. She picked up the receiver and dialed. It was answered on the second ring.

"Yes, it's me. ... Come over. ... No, he ran out on me. But, he's coming over tomorrow to talk. ... Yes, yes. You and I need to talk strategy. I can't lose him. ... He's my meal ticket. ... Just come over. ...Yes, right now. ...Yes, we need to plan. ...Okay, you too." She hung up.

******

Her legs were draped over his shoulders as he pounded into her. His arms were wrapped tightly around her arms and torso; she had no control as she fucked her, and she loved it. Submitting to this man was fantastic. Now, all she had to do was convince her stupid husband that it was going to be a good thing for him too. He, her hubby was going to be getting twice the sex he ever had from her, and maybe some agreed to extra-curricular pussy as well. She had to work it out with the man fucking her at that moment, but she had an idea. 

He stiffened, shuddered, and unloaded a sea of cum inside of her; she felt its heat, and she smiled. She just couldn't give him up. "Jesus that was good," she said. She'd made it twice. With her hubby? She made it maybe twice a year; there was no comparison. Conrad Winston was tops in a lot of ways but none of them had anything whatsoever to do with sex.

"Glad I could accommodate yuh," he said. He had rolled off of her and was breathing heavily. The two of them lay still for some moments.

"We have to talk," she said. "Let's shower and go downstairs. We'll grab a bite and figure out what I'm gonna do. I need your help here, Ronald. Okay?" 

"Yes, yes, like I said yesterday. I'll do what I can, but I sure as hell can't think of how you're going to get him to come around. He ain't stupid as you keep saying he is. He's just pussywhipped. But, he won't remain PW if he thinks you're shining him on. I know I wouldn't," he said.

"Yeah well maybe. But, I have a plan, and if I can get it to come together, we'll all be getting everything we want and then some, including my stupid husband," she said, and she laughed.

I don' know why you don't just divorce him; I mean if your opinion of him is that low," he said.

"Because I need him," she said. 

"No, you don't. You make enough. Your business is taking off; soon you'll be making as much as he is," he said.

"Ronald, Ronald, Ronald you don't get it. The reason Winston Interiors is doing well is because Conrad's contacts keep sending me well-heeled clients. If he divorces me, that would end. I'd be lucky to make half what I am now. No, I have to keep him around, on a short leash, but I have to keep him," she said. He smiled.

"Okay, count me in. What did you have in mind?" he said.

******

I looked up at the clock; it read 9:30. I was still sitting in a booth at the Horseshoe. Had been since 8:00AM. I'd eaten breakfast, which was actually pretty good for a twenty-four hour bar and grill, of course it was only a bar from noon to 2:00AM, but food and coffee was available anytime, very convenient. I threw a twenty on the table, signaled Eve, and headed out.

I pulled up in front of the house four minutes early. I saw the front room curtain drop; she was anxious. Good, I thought. Maybe she'd had an epiphany of sorts. Well, one could hope.

I knocked. The door opened, and a slightly irked Pamela smirked at my gesture. "And you knocked why?" said Pamela. 

"Doesn't feel like my home anymore," I said. "You wanted this sit down; are you gonna ask me in?" I said. My sarcasm was but barely veiled. 

"Why yes, Mr. Winston, do come in won't you," she said, false formality fairly dripping from her tongue. 

I could tell from her look that these opening gambits were not rolling out quite as she'd expected. As for me, I was more than satisfied that they were. I needed for her to be off balance. Whatever she'd prepared for me had to fail if I was going to get my wife back; that is, the wife I used to think I had.

She'd already poured the drinks—whiskey at freakin' ten in the morning! Well, it was five o'clock somewhere. We sat at the dinette and sipped.

"Well?" I said. She sighed, gathered herself and shook her head slowly.

"Conrad, Conrad, Conrad I don't know what to do about you. You are so fucking wrong about me and us and Ronald and all of it. That said, I know that I am in tough here trying to get you to lighten up. But, anyway, here goes my pitch.

"I've done you wrong. I was selfish and stupid and crazy all at the same time. That I love you never doubt. That I can do with just your cock only; well, that would be real hard for me," she said.

"Evidently," I said. "So where does that leave us?"

"It leaves us, me, ready to make things right by you. To be fair. To tender you an offer you will find damn hard to refuse. At least—well—I hope so," she said.

"An offer?" I said.

"Yes, like I said, I've been selfish. That will no longer be the case. From now on it will be the both of us getting it on. That's the both of us without guilt, without a lot of stupid questions, and equal in all respects," she said.

"I'm not following you," I said.

"You have my full permission to play on the side too. I only want the same thing you have a right to require of me," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"You have to promise me that you will not become emotionally involved with any of the fluff that you take to bed. Play all you want, but always come home to me. There will be no questions from me, no sidelong jealous glances from me, no unreasonable demands from me, none of it—ever!" she said.

"What the . . ."

"And again, of course the reverse will be so. I promise that I will never become emotionally involved with Pollard or any other man ever. You, for your part, will not question me, do the jealousy thing, make demands . . ."

"What the fuck are you talking about. I don't want to fuck anybody else. I only want you! Are you getting this? Now, do you have anything else to say," I said.

She deflated. "No," she said.

"Are you going to honor your promise?" I said.

"Can't I even hope to get you to think about my offer?" she said. "Maybe on a trial basis?"

"Trial basis? What the hell is that?" I said.

"We both date. You go your way to your favorite bar or church bazaar or business soiree, whatever; and I do the same. After a month's time, if it's worked out as I'm certain that it would, because you are a hunk and lots of girls are gonna want to be with you; then, we sit down and make up our minds how we will proceed from there on out," she said. I sat there staring at her. Stunned? I think I was.

"No can't do it," I said.

"One last try. I will stop seeing Pollard while you think over what I said, I mean my offer. And, if having thought about it, you still feel the same way; then, Ronald Pollard will be history permanently. Is that fair enough?" she said.

"Let me get this straight. You'll stop seeing him, but you're asking that for the time being I am to think over what you said—offered? That about it?" I said.

"Yes," she said. Well, she was being fair, at least in her mind. And, the Pollard thing would be at an end as of that moment. I nodded.

"Okay, I can go that far, but I can tell you right now; I'm not gonna be changing my mind. I don't need any pussy but yours. And this—what is it—swinging thing is not my cup of tea. Oh, and one other thing. Not only Pollard, but no other man either; that is what you mean to say—right?" I said.

"Yes," she said.

I moved back in the following morning. I suppose that I had to give her that she was trying to find a way to be fair to me, twisted logic or not, even though I adamantly did not want any part of what she was selling. And think over her proposition? Not real seriously, but I would keep to the letter if not the spirit of my word.

At work I had jobs that were ongoing, but my subs were taking care of things okay for the moment. I just had to tour the three contracts once day, usually in the afternoon, to make sure that things kept progressing as they should. After that I'd be going back to my office and make calls or call backs as the day dictated.

Pamela had meetings during the morning hours and that almost every day. She was busy. I knew she was doing well, and that mainly because of me. I had to think, given all that had gone down, that her strenuous attempts to get me back were related to those salient facts. If I pulled out, she would be left without three-fourths of her leads, and, they were first class leads.

Things were cool for the first few days I was back. We ate. We did work around the house. We even went to a movie on Friday night.

Returning home after the movie, I got the look. Well, okay, I was horny, she was horny; so what the hell.

"Let's make it easy on ourselves, tonight," I said, "and let's go to bed naked. Whaddya say."

"Good idea. It'll save time," she said. "Besides, I've been deprived these past few nights and you need to make sure you do me good. Got it mister?"

"Got it," I said.

We kinda wrestled for a few minutes as we rolled on top of the covers trying out what some might have described as imaginative foreplay. I was finally able to force her onto her belly and I took her from behind. Unloading my spunk, I rolled off of her and she rolled on to me and began kissing me. A first gently, then rudely, then gently again. God how I loved making out; it was the best as far as I was concerned.

Spit dribbled from both of our mouths. We stunk of sweat and drying spit and sex and I loved it. I think she did too, but I was still suspicious of her motives and her sincerity. But, if she was being phony, she was one helluva an actress. We slept.

The following days and weeks were good ones; well, she was on a mission. We were nearing the end of our thirty day window of decision. The dishes were done. The past five days especially had been a period of frenetic sexual adventure. We were seated in the living room. The kitchen was clean; we each had a glass of burgundy in front of us.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Conrad?" she said.

"Same as you, I guess," I said. "It's nigh on decision time." She nodded. 

"Any hope?" she said.

"For you or for me?" I countered.

She shrugged. "The both of us I guess. For me?" she said.

"This—what—open marriage thing. I have a question?

"You plan on stickin' with Pollard exclusively if I say it's a go?" I said. I'd caught her flat footed," I said.

"Uh—no—I mean not necessarily," she said. She'd caught my meaning. If she said yes, that would be very close to one of the no-nos on her own list: no emotional attachments. A single long term lover equated very closely with an emotional attachment. Several lovers would likely indicate no emotional attachment whatsoever. Several would create a host of other problems, but not emotional entanglement.

"No necessarily?" I said. 

"I mean, for now, he and I would be doing it, but he isn't a forever lover, just a temporary one, if the only one for the moment," she said. I nodded.

"I see," I said.

"Let me ask you a question. If you do accept my proposal, are you going to be going out too? I mean I want you too. I'm afraid that if you don't, well . . ."

"Not sure. I don't have any plans that way as of the moment. In the future? I don't know, not yet," I said. She nodded.

"Conrad, no matter what, our sex life will remain as active as it has been here these last weeks. Okay?" she said. My turn to nod. I had no doubt that what she was saying was a true thing. She didn't dare let me down. But, that said . . .

I knew that she was the draw, not me. Women would not be flocking to my tent. Hell, I'd be lucky to find me a couple of ladies who'd grant me mercy just because I looked so forlorn. Oh, there would be those that I could entice with my income, plenty of them, but otherwise? Not real likely. 

We talked a little longer. Finally, having gotten up to refill my wine glass, I sagged against the door jamb. "Okay," I said. "No guarantees how long I'll be able to handle it, you being fucked by him, but I will put up with it for the short term."

She rushed into my arms and almost killed me with her enthusiasm. The sex that night almost most made me wish that the asshole was on hand to help me out. And, add to that that I was almost certain that that was exactly the reaction from me that she was hoping for.

******

She didn't immediately avail herself of her opportunity. I think she wanted me to go first, make it easy on her. I didn't. It was exactly seven days later, a Friday night, that she announced that she would be going out. I nodded, and headed for den to get some serious sports watching in. Well, I had to kill time some way or other while she was out fucking him, making me a cuckold, a knowing cuckold.

She took two hours plus getting ready for him. I had to wonder if she realized how humiliating it was for me to wait while she did that; and, to watch her go to such lengths for a man I viscerally hated—and feared. I guessed not.

She came downstairs dressed to the nines. I couldn't remember her looking so beautiful. Short red dress, tawny locks in set in billowing curls, understated jewelry, makeup perfect, and the smell of her: God she was wonderful.

"How do I look?" she said, smiling like an angel. I stared at her without saying anything at first. Then I did.

"You never dressed like that for me," I said, my voice a wimpy whisper. "Oh, and you look positively stunning."

"Now, Conrad, I have so dressed nice for you. But now, you need to get up there and get yourself all cleaned up and dressed too. You need to go out and have some fun. I mean it now. It'll be an adventure for you. Come on; lighten up. Okay?" she said. I returned to watching the game. And, yes, I was pouting, so fucking shoot me. My stomach was roiling. I got up and went over to the mini-bar to get a glass of water.

When I turned around she had her purse over her shoulder. "Conrad, really, go out, okay?" she said.

"No," I said. And like the wimp I was I started to cry, silently but the tears were coming. They were tears of frustration.

"Are you actually crying!" she said, without so much as a shred of empathy.

"We're going to have to get a divorce," I said. "No rancor, no hate or any of that, just get it done and you can have your big cock, and I won't have to see you all dolled up for my adversary while I sit here watching a fucking basketball game and wait for you to come home. Yes, a divorce. That's the ticket." I was talking, but mostly to myself; I wasn't looking at her; I didn't have the balls.

"That would not be good, Conrad; not for you, not for me, not for anyone. I won't stand for it," she said. "I need you and you need me." She came to me. I was standing with my back to her sipping my water.

"Look, I promise not to be too late. When I come home, you and I will do some playing of our own. How's that?" she said. "I promise to make it up to you."

Now my stomach broke into in open revolt. She'd come close to me, now with empathy—phony or not—to comfort me, get me to feel a little less put upon. Then it happened.

She put her arms around me, and turned me around to face her. I couldn't help it. I vomited all over her, her dress, the floor, and it kept coming. She jumped back, tripping in her high heels, swearing like a drunken sailor.


Conrad and Pamela Winston



"Fuck-fuck-fuck!" she screamed. "What kind of miserable wimp are you. Look what you've done!"

"I—I couldn't help . . ."

"Clean it up you wimpy little shit, and if you're man enough to actually go out, make sure you're home before midnight.

"Fuck!" she screamed again.

I watched, sick to my stomach, as she went upstairs to clean up and change. 

It took her another forty minutes for her to repair the damage. She came down, still angry, and shot me a glance that was not real friendly. She stormed out without another word said to me.

I was humiliated, but I was also angry. There was no fixing this one. I had to leave, and I had to do it now. I cleaned myself up a little, but not the floor or anything else. I'd shower later; I had an idea.

She had at least a thousand dollars' worth of cosmetics and women's stuff on her vanity. I pulled the bathroom clothes hamper, and it was nearly full, out next to the vanity. Her red dress was in the sink, rinsed, but not yet cleaned of course.

I dumped all of her dirty clothes—which included some of her delicates on the bed, our bed. Then, I went into the closet and pulled all of her clothes out of that and added them to the pile. Next I got her expensive underwear out of the dresser and added them to the mix. I smiled. 

Going back to the dresser I got every kind of spray and liquid I could find. I doused the pile flipping the clothes to get at the stuff underneath as I did so. Then, I peed on the pillows. She'd be able to salvage a lot of it I figured, but it would take some work. Then, suddenly, I had an idea. I was going to be very naughty, oh yeah!

I headed down to the laundry room. I looked around. I smiled. A half-gallon of Clorox would do the trick. I took it back upstairs with me. This was going to be fun. This time I made sure I got the mattress and bed clothes too. I was pretty damn sure that this was one message she would understand.

I remembered the red dress in the bathroom sink. I went and got it. I threw it on the pile, kind of the cherry on top, I thoughts.

Now, I did my thing. I showered, collected stuff that I wanted and needed, loaded my truck, and headed out. Then, it occurred to me. I had no idea where I was going. But, then I did. She'd told me to go out and have fun, but to be home by midnight. It was a little after 8:00PM; I decided to follow her instructions. 

The Calaboose was a country western bar and disco that I'd stopped at occasionally. I knew the bartender from high school, Jerry Moncrief. And, a plus, he had Philippine Red Horse on tap; well, he was half Flipp, as he proudly announced to anybody who'd listen, so I guess it made a kind of sense; that he had Red Horse on hand that is.

"Hey, Skip, long time no see," he said, as I commandeered a barstool.

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Decided to do some cruisin' tonight."

"Cruisin'? Ain't you still married to that looker from your college days?" he said. It'd been at least a year since I'd been back to this place, but he remembered Pamela. Sign of a good bartender, I thought.

"Yeah, but not for long. She's out with her boyfriend tonight. We're done," I said.

"Oh, sorry to hear that." 

"Got any Red Horse," I said.

"Sure do. Let me get you a draught," he said.

"That'd be a winner," I said. 

I began surveying the room. Lots of women, but all of them seemed to be taken. Well, it was my first night out alone in years. I'd hook me up sooner or later, and, if it even mattered, later would probably be best anyway.

Ten miles away, at the Elegance night club, I knew the two of them would be talking. And, I didn't have to guess what their topic of conversation might be. No indeed, it would be about her "asshole, wimp" of a husband; of that I was totally sure. Was I humiliated? Of course, but I was also pulling myself up out of that mess: wimp-city would be staring at my back from now on. I started laughing.

Jerry came back up to my end of the bar. He looked me askance. "Something funny?" he asked. I waved him off; then, I changed my mind and called him back.

"Well, yeah, kinda," I said. "Before I left, I sabotaged all of my wife's clothes. I was just thinking about her likely reaction when she discovers it—smells it."

"Her clothes?" he said.

"Yeah, I poured her makeup and a bunch of other stuff all over them," I said.

"Yeah, well, it ain't gonna be so funny if she catches up with you. Does she know how to shoot?" he said, only half in jest.

"No, I don't think so," I said.

"Well, you better be thinkin' about cutting your financial ties right quick or she will rape your economic ass," he said. I know I paled.

"Jesus, you're right, Jerry. I was so upset that I didn't even think about that stuff. I'll be doing that in the early A.M." I said. "Anyway, I can't do any of that now. Besides, I really am Cruisin' tonight. Actually, my personal whore told me to."

"You know, I think I might have someone you might want to meet. Just broke up with her guy too. He traded her in on some younger fluff," he said. I eyed him.

"Really?" I said. 

"Buy her a drink. Then, it's up to you," he said.

"Buy her a drink?" 

"Yeah, that's her over there talking to her lawyer," he said. I looked where he was looking. Blond hair, porcelain complexion, great overall package, maybe mid-thirties: I liked what I saw.

What's her name?" I said.

"Helena. She's Russian. Some dude brought her over, married her, and dumped her after two years. She's lookin' to hook up," he said. I saw the lawyer get up and head out: business concluded I supposed.

She was headed for the bar.

"Uh—Jerry, can I get a Red Horse," she said. I liked her taste in brew. I threw caution to the winds.

"Uh—miss? I'm well acquainted with the barkeep here. Let me use my influence if you will," I said. She gave me a look that let me know she thought that I was crazy.

Jerry joined us. "Jerry, please get this lady a horse, okay?" I said, playing the big roll.

"A horse?" she said. 

"Yeah, drink a horse, ride a cowboy," I said. She laughed.

"I think you have the lyrics mixed up there, mister . . .?"

"Yeah, I guess," I said. "Conrad Winston."

"Helena, Helena Cross nee Pavlov; and no I don't have any dogs," she said. I smirked.

"Okay. Me neither," I said.

We talked for some minutes, and I asked her to dance. We did and oh did she feel and smell good. I almost forgot why I was there. I was there to follow my wife's instructions. And, then I thought about her final instruction: to be home by midnight. 

Helena had joined me at the bar, and we talked up a storm. Her husband was an asshole, she was alone in a strange land. Resources fast running out, I supposed, and nowhere to turn. I made my move.

"Helena. Any chance I could get a date with you for say next Saturday night?" I said. She smiled. 

"I think I could go for that," she said. "But, let's dance some more; it makes me feel human again." And we did dance, several times actually.

We were walking back to our seats at the bar after a particularly grueling chacha.

"Jerry, got a post it I can have—and a pen?" she said.

He handed her the requisite items and she wrote down her numbers and her address. I nodded.

"Great penmanship," I said. "Seven o'clock?"

"That'd be good," she said. "I do have to go now. But, I will be waiting for you on Saturday at seven."

"I'll be there," I said. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and was gone.

It was 11:30PM. I smiled at Jerry. "Jer, I gotta go too. See yuh," I said. He waved me goodbye as he polished a glass.

*****

I parked on the next street over, so she wouldn't see my car. I walked to the house. The lights were still out; she wasn't home yet. I figured to go in and hide out. I wanted to be there when she went upstairs and saw the disaster of her clothes. I had to hear her if not see her. 

I was in the laundry room, and I had the door to it closed as it usually was. It was highly unlikely that she would go into it this time of night. She'd use the hamper in the master bedroom's bath for the clothes she'd worn for him tonight. I at least had our little frig in the Laundry room from which to extract beer. 

I just couldn't miss her reaction: her surprise and shock. It was me that got the shock.

She'd brought the asshole home with her. I checked my cell it was almost 1:00AM. She'd obviously wanted me here so she could rub my nose it for messing up her dress and delaying her leaving. Now, I actually felt good about what I'd done to her clothes. It figured to mess up the fucking good time that they'd planned for I was sure.

"Aren't you—we—kinda rubbing his nose in it?" said Mr. Pollard.

"Yes, I guess. But, her deserves it," she said. She went quiet. "The mess—on the floor—he didn't clean it up! Well, he fucking will tomorrow!"

"Pamela?" said Pollard after a full minute of nothing having been said. "Pamela, this is a statement." I could almost see, feel, her snorting her anger: mentally listing all of the things she was going to do to me.

"He should be here unless he did go out. Let's go upstairs. The wimpy little shit is probably in bed," she said." 

"Boy you are mad," he said. "Remind me never to get on your bad side." I heard her snicker.

"Come on," she said. "We'll use the guest room tonight. He can find us in the morning and cry in his wimpy-assed beer."

"He might object to us going that far," he said. "I mean us doing it here. We should just stick to the plan of having you introduce me."

"He might, but you're six-five and he's five-six. I don't see it as an insoluble problem," she said.

"Look, what you say may be true, but fighting him . . ."

"Yes, yes, I know. I was just kidding. If he cries, I'll offer him your handkerchief. Okay?" she said.

I slipped out the laundry room and headed for the stairs. I'd wait at the bottom of the staircase, out of sight, until I heard the screams. I didn't quite rub my hands together in glee.

"What the fuck!" she screamed.

"Sweet Jesus," said Pollard. "The smell! Your clothes . . ."

"There's ten thousand dollars' worth of damage here. And, look at my makeup table.

"And, he is clearly not here," said Pollard. "He's left you."

"Oh my God!" she wailed. "What am I going to do!" I decided to take my parting shot.

"See yuh in divorce court, dear!" I fairly yelled.

The two of them stormed out of the room and leaned over the upstairs railing.

"Conrad! What have you done!" she screamed at me.

"Gotten a measure of revenge for you doing me like you have. And, I see you intended to show him off in front of me tonight. Shove him in my face. Nice!" I said. "Have a nice fucking life the both of you. No, don't; I despise you; be miserable instead." 

I had to get out of there; I was beginning to break up. My glee had evaporated at the sight of her. She was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and now; well, now she was somebody else's. I'd be a long time getting over that one if I ever could."

******

"So, you've broken it off permanently with her," said Helena. 

"Yes. There's no going back now. At least I can't think of any way," I said.

"You sound like you wish that there were a way," she said.

"We were married a long time. I would like another chance at her if there were some way to guarantee she'd remain faithful. But—well—there isn't," I said.

"You sound like me," she said. "I'd give my left tit to have my Mr. Cross back, but, he kicked me to the curb for some chickee that will be cheating on in right soon if I know anything about such things. So, I guess I'm of a mind to see Mr. Cross on a cross." She laughed.

"Yeah we are a pair," I said. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she said. 

"You horny tonight?" I said. She smiled and then laughed outright.

"Let's go. I need it; you need it; we can help each other out," she said.

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

The sex hand been good. We were naked, relaxing, and quiet. Each of us was lost in our own little world. She broke the spell.

"Conrad?" she said.

"Hmm," I said.

"I will be moving out of here by the end of the week," she said. "I'm broke. I'll be moving in with a friend. So if we are going to be doing this anymore it'll have to be at your place. I hope that's all right because I love doing you." I looked over at her.

"You wanna stay here?" I asked.

"Well, yes, but I can't afford it," she said.

"Forget moving. If you're amenable, I'll move in here and pay the tab. I mean if you want," I said. "I've been moteling it, and that's getting old. I'll take the second bedroom and that way we'll each have a little privacy; well, except on nights when we don't' want any." I was smiling. She looked at me.

"Okay, I guess," she said. "But . . ."

"Don't fret, girl. You can still date anyone you want. I know you're looking for something permanent; and I'm not sure I can fill that bill. Actually, I know I can't right now. Still, if you and I can date some; it'd sure be good for my ego if nothing else," I said.

"Wow!" she said. "Conrad, I'm not sure about the future either. And, you are very right. Down the line I do want to find me a permanent relationship. And, I feel the same way as you; I mean about needing someone near, more or less steady, to hold on to until I can find that mister wonderful."

"Good, then we have an arrangement," I said.

"We do," she said.

******

Helena and I had been doing our thing for three days before she came at me; no, not Helena—Pamela.

I was looking over some plans with one of my subcontractors when I got a tap on my shoulder.

"Hello, Conrad," she said. I turned.

"Pamela, what are you doing here? And, this is a hardhat area; you're not supposed to be here," I said.

"We need to sit down. It's lunch time and there's Cracker Barrel just down the street. Whaddya say?" she said. I looked over at Rory.

"Rory, I'm going to lunch, okay. Call those guys and tell them we need the materials muy pronto," I said.

"Will do," he said.

"Okay, Pam, let's go," I said. "I am hungry." She nodded, and we headed out on foot for the CB.

We settled into a booth with our waters in front of us.

"Nice dress," I said. "New?"

"Not funny," she said.

"Yeah, well you rubbing your tall, dark, and handsome boyfriend in my face was not funny either," I said. She just gave me a hard look.

"I need you to come home, Conrad. I can't make it alone, and you know that," she said.

"Really, and Mr. Pollard gets to use your body but won't pay your way? Is that about it?" I said.

"Mister Pollard is not my husband; you are," she said.

"That figures to be a temporary thing," I said. "Tell him he doesn't get to use your body anymore unless he pays your way. That oughta get him off the dime."

"Damn it, Conrad, we had an agreement. You promised to let me have my little thing on the side. I promised not to short you, and you said okay for me to have him on a part time basis. You did!" she said.

"I changed my mind. I never really said it was okay either. What I said was that I would try to live with it; but I sure as hell didn't like it," I said. "And, after I saw you dressed to kill for him the other night; well, I realized that there was no way that I was going to be able to deal with it, not even."

"Did you have to ruin my entire wardrobe?" she said.

"Spur of the moment revenge after you insulted me and commanded me to be in by midnight. Your implied 'or else' killed our marriage," I said.

"I said that stuff in anger because you . . .and I didn't insult you!"

"Yeah, threw up all over you. That should have been a clue to you what you playing around on me was doing to me. But, were you bothered by it at all, I mean my state of mind, my emotional upset? Not at all. You just got mad at me, threatened me. But, no more, Pamela, no more. I have my head out of my ass now. So no more! Got it!" I said. "And, you did insult me. You called me a wimpy little shit. Well, I may not be tall, but I'm not the things you called me, not even."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay. I said those things in the heat of . . . Anyway, after I had a chance to look at it, the whole thing, and yes I did talk to Ron about it too, I realized that I was being heavy handed with you. Ron, if it matters, agrees with you. Said I was an asshole rubbing your nose in it like I did," she said.

"Hmm, he and I might be able to get along after all," I said.

"Wouldn't that be something," she said.

"Yeah, wouldn't it: he and I comparing notes about how good 'our' woman is in bed," I said, and that about as sarcastically as it could be said.

"I could live with that if you two could get along," she said.

"Not gonna happen, Pamela. Get that! I said.

"Never say never, Conrad, never say never," she said.

After my little face to face with Pamela, I made a couple of decisions. One, I was going to keep my, Helena's and mine, little apartment for the foreseeable future. Two, I wasn't going to go to the trouble of divorcing her. Unless, I met someone who I did want to marry, there didn't seem to be an upside to actually divorcing my personal whore.

I was just going to be cool and not worry about anything.

******

Helena and I did the dirty three and four nights a week. Sometimes at home, sometimes in the backseat of my car. We weren't an item in the sense of long term, but we were close. Then it ended.

"Conrad, he's come back to me. He's come back and on his knees. We're going to try again," she said. "You sure it's what you want, dear heart," I said.

"I think so," she said. I nodded. We kissed, and I helped her pack. I would keep the apartment; it suited me. She'd be moving in with her Mr. Cross.

"The door's always open, girl . . . I mean you know," I said.

"I know, and I thank you for everything, Conrad, and I mean everything," she said.

And then she was gone. I was alone once more.

My nights were once again relegated to a kind of lackadaisical hunt for companionship. And as to that, my luck couldn't have been worse. Even the prostitutes in the neighborhood were too busy to see me. I wondered how my wife was getting on. Doubtless a whole lot better than me; of that I was more than certain.

******

"We have to do something if we are ever going to get him to be my willing cuckold," said Pamela.

"Yeah, well I'm thinking that you're dreaming," said Ronald. "He's never going to be happy with you fucking me or anyone else. Too straight laced for that kind of thing."

"If we could get him to swing . . ."

"Yeah, well as I recall he's already told you no to that idea," he said.

"Yes, but that's because he doesn't think that other women will want him. He's shy of all damn things," she said.

"They probably wouldn't want him. I mean he's short; his dick is marginal, his skills non-existent; oh and yes, he's a nice guy," said Ron.

"He got me?" she said.

"Yes, when he was much younger and doubtless a whole lot better looking than now," he said. "Look, I like the guy; well, what I know about him. But his confidence level is way too low for him to get many women to want to do him. He's got his fucking emotional baggage hanging on his sleeve so that anyone can see it—not a turn on. It's the way it is."

"Maybe, but I have an idea, and you're going to help me," she said.

******

Work-work-work: that was my gig. With my wife history, with Helena gone, I still had the five sisters to keep me company, but after a while they kinda lost their allure. But then, a tiny bit of luck; I guess it was luck. My ex decided it might be time to throw me a leaky life preserver. She catches me on a barstool stirring my beer with a straw—nobody does that; well, nobody who's conscious of the world around himself does. 

"How yuh feelin', Conrad," said Pamela, coming up behind me and startling the piss outta me. "What are you doing with that straw?"




Conrad and Pamela Winston



"Sweet Jesus, Pamela!" I said. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," she said.

"What are you doing here?" I said, not unreasonably.

"Basically to see if you've gotten over your snit and might be willing to have a rational sit down," she said.

"My snit? My snit!" I said. "I notice you're

dressed. Good 'ole Ronald foot the bill to reinvent your wardrobe?" I didn't quite snicker.

"Yes and yes," she said. I stared at her like she was from outer space.

"Hmm, I guess he makes more scratch than I thought. And as for my snit . . . "

"Look, Conrad, you can't stay mad forever, and you had agreed to let me keep my little thing on the side," she said.

"Yes, but it has proved too much for me. I just can't see how . . ."

"Sit down with us, Conrad. And, yes, I mean us, not just me. I love you. I like and need him for some extra relief now and again, but that's all. He plays with other ladies too. That doesn't bother me. 

"Conrad, I'm hoping that, if we can talk, that you'll come home and be my husband again. I'm hoping that you and Ron can be friends. I'm hoping that you can be a little bit more understanding than you so far have been. And, selfishly, I'm hoping that, from now on, you'll leave my clothes the hell alone. Whaddya say?" she said.

"You saying that you want me to sit down with the both of you, not just you? Did I hear you right?" I said.

"Yes." She had stopped me with that one. I could see no upside to sitting down with a man I viscerally hated. But—did I actually hate him. The answer, as I had come to know in recent days, was no. Still—sit down with him?

"What would be in it for me?" I said. "I mean if I talked with him and you?"

"A much improved sex life for the three of us. And, the realization by you that Ronald is no threat to you whatsoever," she said.

"I don't know," I said. 

"Come on, stud, I won't bite and neither will he," she said.

"You know, I'm gonna say yes. When and where?" I said.

"Oh my God! Thank you thank you thank you!" she didn't quite scream. She came to me and gave me a hug that actually hurt.

"Okay okay," I said. "Again, when and where?"

"Tomorrow night at the house," she said. I nodded. 

"I gotta go," she said. "I gotta get him onboard with this too. He's not going to believe it. 

"Conrad, we are going to make it," she said.

"Hmm, maybe," I said. I was far less sanguine about our chances than she was.

******

I was two minutes late. So was Ronald. We walked up the steps together. We shared a glance at each the other but nothing else.

The front door was wide open. I went in first. He hesitated. I motioned him to come in; he relaxed and did. At least he didn't have the brass balls to come in without an invite.

"Wow! You two ride together?" she said. She was smirking, but in truth it did kinda look like we'd come together.

"No, no, we didn't ride in together," I said. He nodded at my correctitude.

"So, we're all together at the same time and the same place," she said.

The two of us, Ron and me, again nodded.

"I'd like to say that I appreciate what you're trying to do here, Pam. What it will lead to is a mystery to me, but I do appreciate your efforts," he said.

"So what's on the agenda?" I said. 

"There's a pitcher of martinis on the dinette table. Let's adjourn to there, okay," she said. We did.

"Honey will you do the honors," she said, indicating that I should pour the drinks. I shrugged and did as she requested.

Seated and sipping, the silence was palpable.

"I guess I should start," she said, finally. "I mean since I called this little meeting."

The two of us males nodded. It occurred to me that we were acting like twins.

"Conrad, I've done very badly by you. I treated you badly and was totally selfish in the way I acted and dealt with you. I apologize," she said.

"Ronald, You are better in bed than is Conrad, but he is my husband and a better one is not findable," she said. He didn't respond, but I thought I saw a hint of irritation in his nod.

"May I ask," I said. "How is he better in bed than me? I mean why couldn't I learn to be enough for you. I mean since it seems that we are laying our cards on the table tonight."

"Some men have staying power, Conrad, and some don't. Ronald does. You don't. Sorry, but that's just a fact. And . . ."

"And?" I said.

"Well, and his dick is twice yours, and make no mistake that's a biggee. I'm not saying these things to hurt you. You do it for me in a dozen ways, just not that way," she said.

"So, I guess this meeting is over then since I'm clearly not man enough to satisfy you. We'll divorce and you can marry Ronald here," I said. He still hadn't said anything substantial, but once again his look did. It was clear that he was more than hoping that she'd accept my offer and go for the divorce.

"She doesn't love me, Conrad. She does love my dick, and I do satisfy her sexually, while you at best are okay, not great, but okay; and, she has told me that you were. No, you need to keep her for your wife, and she needs to keep me for the occasional liaison only," he said.

"She clearly doesn't want me. My income maybe; I could buy that real easy, but me? No way does she want me for a husband in any real sense of the word.

"You are exactly wrong, Conrad," she said. "I do want you for a husband, for my husband. Your income? I won't lie to you. Your income t ain't exactly last on my list, but it isn't first either. And there are lots of girls out there for whom cock size is not the biggee that it is for me. I guess that's part of why I wanted you to go out too, like me and Ronald do. You know to play a little on the side. But, to always come home to me.

"I need you at night to cuddle with me, to hold me, to love me and protect me, and adore me. Yes adore me. I love it that you want me so badly. The sex you'll be getting from me is because I am so grateful to you for being there for me, for being my main man," she said.

"Your main man?" I said.

"Yes, Ron is my man too, but he is second in line to you except for the couple of hours each week that he and I do the dirty. And, I promise you to give you twice as much sex as you ever got before if you will kindly stop being such a wuss and take me up on my—our—offer," she said, looking over at her lover.

"A wuss, am I?' I said.

"You have been. But I am hopeful that after tonight you will no longer be one," she said.

"Fantastic," I said, about as sarcastically as I could.

"Conrad—I want to clarify something here because I think I might be giving you the wrong idea. A man, any man, can pleasure a woman. I mean if he takes his time, and is sensitive to her needs and likes. And you are both of those things, Conrad. You are sensitive to my needs. You are sensitive to my likes and dislikes. You do pleasure me. I love it when you do me. Are you as good as Ronald? Hell no. But, you are plenty good enough," she said. "To paraphrase what you guys are always saying about some of us girls, I'd wouldn't be kicking you outta bed."

"Fucking wonderful. I might be mediocre, but I'm not a complete loser. Gotta love it," I said. "I don't know why I'm still sitting here. I mean if you chop me any lower I'll need to be killing myself, since I wouldn't have a whole lot of reason to go on living."

"Look, Conrad, I get to fuck her. You get to fuck her. She gets pleasured all around. And, if you have the sense God gave sheep, you'll do a little playing on the side, and find out just how good you are. Hell, maybe you aren't worth a shit as a lover. But, like Pam is saying, you probably are. But, you're gonna die never knowing if you don't get your act together and check it out, the scene I mean.

"We planned on going out tonight. You need to come with us. I think You'll score if you play your cards right. But, if you don't, this lovely lady here will take you home and fuck you into insensitivity and leave you for dead. And, if that turns out to be the case, if you don't score, we'll try again tomorrow. 

"But, if you do score, then you'll be making it with whoever it is, and I'll be taking Pam to my place to fuck her. But, and it's a big but, she'll be coming back to you; and I mean tonight, unless you call and tell her to come back tomorrow morning after you say goodbye to your little piece of strange. So how about it," he said.

I couldn't help it. All of the talk about fucking and strange and all of it had gotten me horny. I nodded.

"Okay, I'm really not into your swinging scene, yours and Pamela's; but I am willing to give it a look see. But, Pam," I said, looking over at her, "if I don't' score, don't you be hard to find. Because in that case, good 'ole Ronald will have to be employing the five sisters tonight. You good with that?" 

"Yes, sir," she said. "So, if you two gentlemen will give me a little time, I have to go upstairs and prepare myself for this little adventure." The two us nodded, and she headed upstairs.

"What makes you so sure that I'll score?" I said, looking straight at my rival.

"You're a good looking guy, Conrad, and Pam's told me about you. She says you're a good dancer, and a good kisser. Not very good at fucking, she says. But I'm pretty sure that's because nobody ever told you what to do. Sexually, Conrad, I'm betting that you're a sexual ignoramus," he said. I sneered.

"Yeah, maybe, but I don't try to break up other people's marriages," I said.

"Is that what you think? That I'm trying to break up your marriage? Nothing could be farther from the truth. I like Pam, and I love fucking her, but I am not in love with her, nor is she in love with me. Get a grip man, and do what I tell you tonight when we go out. Okay?" he said.

"Directions from the master, that it?" I said.

"You could do worse," he said. Just then Pamela came down.

"We'll see," I said. 

My wife was beautiful. Evidence of that was the fact that the two us males had our collective tongues hanging out.

******

The Elegance night club was my wife's favorite hangout. Had been for years. She and I used to frequent it, and I'd learned in recent times that she and good old Ronald went there a lot. Well, we were back there now.

It kind of irked me when the bargirl who came to serve us referred to her boyfriend as her husband. I got a worried look from my wife for that one. And, she didn't correct the girl which irked me even more. I was going to let it pass, but she wasn't.

"Conrad, we come here sometimes, Ron and me; the girl was making assumptions that's all," she said.

"Yeah, I guess," is all I said. I surveyed the place. Not much had changed in the couple of years since I'd last been in it. Some new help I thought. It had to be new since all of the bargirls, there were five or six of them serving the clientele, appeared to be recent high school graduates.

"You need to roam a little," said Ron. When you see a girl you might like, or, that might like you, say something—but no jokes."

"Like what?" I said.

"Nice music, like to dance?" he said. "I know you know how, Pam says so. So use what you got."

I actually thought he had a good idea. I was a good dancer. If I couldn't do anything else, I could do that. I decided to improve on his idea.

I waited for a good number I liked. And there it was, "Black Magic Woman." I loved to chacha.

Ron pulled Pam out onto the floor. I watched him—them—for a minute. He was sluggish and kinda clumsy looking. I cut in.

"Don't worry big guy. I just need her for a little advertising," I said. I could see a light go on in Pam's brain.

"Yes, that's a good idea," she said to Ron. And Pam and I tore up the floor. I mean we really tore it up; I was on a mission. Three minutes later I escorted her back to her table and handed her off to Ron.

I seemed to have a different partner for every dance after that. Two of the women appeared to be competing for my favor. I had to say: it sure as hell did wonders for my ego.

Three hours later I had two phone numbers that were literally foisted upon me. I'd never use them of course, but I did appreciate the fact they appreciated me even if it was only for my dancing skills.

The night was a qualified success. I was indeed not the loser that my wife evidently—her words to the contrary notwithstanding—thought me.

On the way home I sat in the back seat. Ron wasn't going to get any poontang tonight, I was, but his legs were too damn long for the back seat. Pamela drove.

******

Arriving at our place, Ronald baby picked up his car, and me and Pamela headed inside for what I figured to be a continued bit of high pressure sales on her part. I was righter than I suspected.

"You did well tonight. You gettin' it now?" she said.

"How do you mean?" I said.

"Clearly you have things to offer that women, and especially this woman, want and need. And, yet, all or most all of them, have husbands or boyfriends that they will go back to tonight—well—like me," she said. I had to nod.

"Maybe," I said.

"Maybe? There's no maybe about it. You do realize that I only got one more dance with you after the first one all night, don't' you?" she said. I had to think. She was right; I had to smile.

"Yeah, but the way I figure it, that was because I could dance better than the rest of those guys," I said. "If I had to depend on my fabulous good looks, well . . ."

She smirked. We all have our talents," she said. "Ron's tall, dark, and handsome. I'm prettier for my age than most other women. You're a top of the line dancer—a big thing for most women. What I'm saying, Conrad, is that you are no fucking loser: you've got assets quite apart from you paycheck."

"Yeah, but what about once I'm standing naked in front of some woman? What then?" I said.

"You do the best you can. You're not that bad. Your dick's a little on the small size, so you do with what you've got. You use your tongue after you fuck her to finish her off. You treat her like you treat me, I mean with sensitivity. Do all of these things, and you'll do fine.

"Jesus! Listen to me. I'm giving you tips on how to make it with other women," she said, "talk about odd."

"Yes, so that you can do it with good 'ole tall, dark, and handsome without me getting overly jealous or dumping your ass," I said.

"Yes, in part, but also because I was a shit before and a selfish shit at that. I've got it together now. We'll swing, Conrad, you and I; but, we'll always come home to each the other," she said.

"Hmm," I said, still not sure of it all.

"You gonna call those girls?" she said.

"What girls?" I said, hoping she didn't see them give me their numbers.

"The ones who gave you their numbers. You should, and you should do it tomorrow. Do not let grass grow under your feet in these kinds of situations, Conrad. Just remember, you always come home to me."

I looked down. I actually felt guilty about not having thrown the numbers away. They were burning a hole in my pocket, but did I really want to call them.

"I don't know. Dancing at a public bistro is one thing. But—fucking someone other than my wife, even with her permission, I just don't know," I said.

"Do as I say. Call them tomorrow. Set up separate dates for next Friday and Saturday nights. Ron and I will do the same but at different places. We'll use a motel. You should do the same for the short run; until you find out if their worth second dates in the future. But, in the meantime, this week, you will fuck me raw and be my one and only. Whaddya say?"

"I'll think about it," I said.

"Anyway, enough about all of that. I need you to fuck your wife. Now! And, I do want a serious fucking, no sensitivity tonight. Just do me up good and proper. Okay?" she said. "Jesus, I'm horny."

I was too. We stripped. I spun her around and bent her over the couch. I kicked her legs apart and unceremoniously rammed myself inside of her. She was wet as hell; I had no trouble bottoming out inside of her. I screwed her slowly at first until she started to grow impatient.

"Fuck me damn it!" she said. "Hard!" I began pounding her. She grunted with each thrust.

"Goo—good!" she squealed. "Keep—keep—on doing it that way . . ."

She did and I came in a gusher. She didn't make it.

"Fuck!" she said. "I almost made it. Try to last a little longer this time." She dragged me around to the front of the couch and made me sit. She knelt in front of me and sucked me hard once more.

She stretched herself out on the floor, spread her legs, and crooked a finger at me to mount her. I didn't have to be told twice. She pulled her knees back and straightened her legs up and over my shoulders; they were pointed straight up in the air. "Do me good asshole," she said. "I need to come." Her tone and her words actually frightened me. I dared not fail her. I drilled her. I pumped in and out of her pussy and I knew she was close: her eyes glazed over. Her jerky movements told me a small cataclysm was taking place inside of her vagina. I finally unloaded mu spunk and collapsed on top of her. 

"Roll off of me butthead; I can't breathe," she said. I smiled then laughed. I rolled off of her and to her side.

"Asshole? Butthead? What's with all of the name calling?" I said.

"It heightens the moment, the dirtiness of it all. It turns me on," she said. "Oh, and you're not done." I glanced at her. I knew I was pretty close to being empty, done.

She sat up and swung a knee over me and settled down on my face. "Eat me, chicken shit. See if you can make me cum again. This is your duty from now on. Got it!" she said.

I couldn't really answer her, but I did do my duty and she did come again. Testifying to that was the way she pressed her pussy and her anus down onto me face when she stiffened in a really body wrenching orgasm.

She fell forward and I had a perfect view of her wonders. 

Some minutes later we were doing our best to regain our breath and heading off to separate showers.

A half hour after that we were sitting at the dinette with Tuna sandwiches and soft drinks in front of us. It was almost 3:00AM.

"Helluva night," I said. She smirked.

"And many more just like it to come," she said. I nodded.

******

I did call the two women the next day. I had to. Pamela was sitting across from me when I did it. I guess she didn't trust me to get it done without her encouragement, even her active participation. I had dates for both Friday and Saturday nights, and those with two totally different women.

Pam and Ronald were going out too, and they'd be going to the Elegance. In my case I'd chosen the Calaboose.

******

I picked her up at a local Denny's where we had a cup of coffee before heading out. She preferred a neutral location until she got to know me better was the way she phrased it. Well, I could dig it. Single woman, me a man she'd seen but one time at a local bistro, knew nothing about him: like I say; she made sense.

"Well Tanya Mesa, and how are you this evening?" I said, smiling broadly.

"Well, Conrad Winston, quite well, thank you very much," she said.

The ride to the Calaboose was kinda long, so we talked. I learned that she was recently broken up with her fiancé, she was fortyish, she was blond and pretty, and she loved to dance. I knew this last already; she'd been good partner the previous week.

The drinks were good, the dancing was good, the company top drawer: it was a nice date. And, she agreed to a date for the following Friday. I actually wanted to ask her out the following night, but I did have a date with her rival; I would not stand a girl up.

I took her back to the Denny's where she'd parked her car; but I did get her home address this time. The flowing Friday I would pick her up there.

I got home late. Pamela wasn't there, but she was fifteen minutes later. She'd been fucked; there was no doubt about that. I'd been in a good mood. I hadn't thought about her and Pollard hardly at all the whole night; my date was that good. But, now I had misgivings.




Conrad and Pamela Winston



"How was your date?" she said.

"Good, nothing happened, I mean not like what you and Ronald obviously did," I said. She frowned, but recovered.

"It will. This was your first go 'round. So, anyway, what did you do?" she said.

"We drank and danced and talked and I got a goodnight kiss and a second date," I said. Now, she smiled.

"Well, good," she said.

"And you and Pollard?" I said.

"Yes, Conrad, he did fuck me. You knew that. We also did a bit of dancing too; I mean before we went to the motel. He's a better fucker than you, but you are a whole lot better at dancing." I guess I looked a little down.

"Look, Conrad, we've—you and I—have gotten it on four times this week. And, you did good too, I might add. This weekend stuff is just fun stuff add to the fun stuff we do. So, don't be jealous of Ronald. He's just a friend, a toy. You're the man, not him," she said.

"Yeah, yeah okay," I said. I made up my mind. I'd be angling for a homerun tomorrow night. Oh yeah. I needed to get fucked instead of just fucked over. Yes, tomorrow I would be going for broke with my date.

******

I picked Gloria Billings up at her townhouse, not far from the Calaboose. She wasn't as pretty in the face as Tanya, but very sexy looking. Short with a mane of black hair and an hourglass figure: she was a walking wet dream. But, on the downside, she was only twenty-two years old—too big a difference for a serious relationship, but, I wasn't looking for one of those anyway; hence, she was good for my purposes, a little fun with no long term commitment. Why she was interested in a man twice her age was a mystery to me. But, I would go with it for the short term.

The early part of the date was partly a repeat of the date I'd had the previous night with Tanya: good whiskey, good dancing, and some laughs. Conversation? She was boring. Well, she was too young to know anything. But, she was okay overall. And then she was more than okay.

Around 11:00PM I took her home; well, we were danced out. She did not give me a kiss goodnight. No indeed. She took me by the hand and led me inside.

"Have a seat, Conrad, I'll be back in a minute. It was five minutes and she wearing only her black panties. Jesus! Did mention that she was sexy as hell! If I didn't I should be shot for my error.

She walked, no, swayed over to the mini-bar against the far wall. She poured us two glasses of wine. I'm not into white wine so much, but she could have peed in the goblet and I'd have been happy, actually very happy. We sipped for a moment or two without saying anything—well, I had an excuse, I was damn near verbally catatonic.

"Gonna stay dressed all night?" she said.

"Uh . . ."

She put her goblet down and began unbuttoning my shirt; I let her. He unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants and pulled them down my legs. She stood. 

"I love you red boxers," she said. "You are so the little boy." She giggled. I pushed my shorts down and she eyes my five inch gun with interest. She didn't laugh.

"I've never had an older man before. You going to do me good?" she said. 

"If I fail you, I will kill myself in the morning," I said. Now, she laughed uproariously.

"No, no, don't do that. Just give me your best shot. Okay?" she said.

"Damn straight," I said. "This girl didn't have a lot experience in life, but I had the feeling that she was more than competent inn the sex department. She was sure as hell more experienced than I was.

I knelt in front of her and kissed her pussy through the material of her panties. She smelled wonderful, womanly. I slowly peeled her out of her panties revealing a completely bald mound and an enslaving slit. I worshipped her.

She turned around and I kissed her butt. I spread her cheeks and kissed and licked her anus. She giggled.

Taste good, mister?" she said.

"Oh yeah," I said.

She turned around again and I ministered to her pussy lips and then her clit. She was wet now, really really wet.

She laid down on her back and spread her legs for me. I entered her missionary, ramming her mercilessly until I exploded inside of her. I knew I'd been selfish; she knew it too and expected it. But it was no more than ten minutes later with massaging my balls and penis that I was once again loaded for battle. This one would be for her. And it was.

"Whew, not bad," she said. "You got me off the second time."

"Thank God," I said.

We slept the night away. The sun woke me. She was nowhere to be seen. I headed downstairs. She was sipping coffee. She got up and got me a cup. 

"You did good last night, Conrad," she said, "but . . ."

"But?" I said.

"But, last night was a single event not to be repeated," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"You're too old for me. I let you do me because I really did want to experience an older man. But, well, now I have," she said, "I hope it was good for you." I nodded. Then, I had a bad thought.

"Gloria, can I ask you a question? Oh, and it was very good; well, you can imagine. I mean, as you say, we won't be seeing each other again, well, not in the same circumstances anyway. And, yes, you are right. A long term relationship wouldn't work with us being so different age wise. But, can I ask? There wasn't another . . ." She laughed, and kinda stopped me.

"You men. You're worried about your dick size aren't you?' she said. I looked down.

"You are kinda small. But not totally useless that way. Most women do prefer a dick that's a least six inches. But a four or five incher like yours can do the job okay. Not wonderfully well, but okay. So, is that what you wanted to know?" she said.

"Yes, and thank you very much for your candor," I said. So it is only the age issue then?"

"Yes," she said. I actually felt better. Gloria wasn't as good looking as Tanya, but she was a hottie, no question about that. I would be thanking my lucky stars that she gave me a tumble.

One week and my sex life and maybe my marriage had turned around. I was still a little jealous of Ronald having so much influence with my wife, but at least now I had options or so I imagined.

A swinging lifestyle? A swinging lifestyle which included medium term or even long term lovers—like Ronald. Pamela had her Ronald and I maybe had the possibility of finding someone like she had; well, if I put my mind to it. And, I was considering putting a move on Tanya, for just such a liaison, if only to get some leverage with my wife. 

I had decided that to wimp out would only end in divorce. This way, even if it did, I'd be able to save my ego from being totally destroyed. And, after my night with Gloria, I was pretty confident that I could score and save my marriage too. But, as things were about to turn out, I'd discover that I was fooling myself; well, sort of at any rate.

******

Over the next several weeks I dated Tanya several times. I finally hit a homerun. The night was cool everywhere except in her bed where things were hotter than hell.

She seemed insatiable. And, we were getting along quite well otherwise as well. To the point where I began to think of her as a fallback position if my wife—unlikely though I thought it to be—dumped me for good 'ole Ronald. And then, after a period of ten weeks of dating and getting to know each other, she came clean. At first I was so angry I couldn't speak, not to her, not to my wife, not to anyone; well, anyone but my very good friend, Jerry, at the Calaboose; he alone was trustworthy, but I am getting ahead of myself. Back to Tanya . . .

"Conrad, we've been kind of an item now for some time. I'd like to say that I consider you more than a friend and more than a short term lover. 

"Conrad, I want you to divorce your wife, and, I want you to marry me. There, I've said it," said Tanya. My mouth fell open, my heart stopped, my—uh—bodily functions threatened to embarrass me. I was speechless, well, almost.

"Huh? I mean, I have a wife. She and I have an arrangement. I don't think . . ."

"Conrad, you need to shut up for a moment," she said.

"Huh? What?" I said.

"Your wife, well, she's not what you think, Conrad," said Tanya.

"What? What are you talking about!" I said, raising my voice only slightly.

"Yes, you have an arrangement with her. She gets to screw her boyfriend and you don't get to object because you're screwing me, and that other girl. What was her name, ah yes, Gloria, the kid from the cradle," she said.

"Tanya, yes, that's all true, so what?" I said.

"Conrad, I have an arrangement with your wife too, and with Mr. Pollard. They paid me and Gloria to date you: one thousand dollars each. All we had to do was date you. You'd take us out and have a little fun, and if we fucked you at least once, we'd each get an additional thousand dollars each," she said. "For the record they did pay us; well, they did me. I assume they paid Gloria also."

I know my face had to have turned slate gray. I was certain that what she said was true. It all fit. But I had a thought.

"How many times did you have to screw me? I mean at a thousand for each roll in the hay . . . "

"Only once," she said.

"But you and I . . ." I started.

"Yes, you and I have continued to get along quite nicely thank you very much. That's because I've fallen for you. So, back to my question," she said.

"Question?" I said.

"Yes, will you marry me?" she said.

"I—I—I have to think, Tanya. If what you say is true, I need time to get everything straight in my head," I said.

"I know. But, regardless of what you decide, well, I'm here for you," she said.

"Thank you. I do appreciate your kindness here. But I will be talking to her, my wife," I said.

******

It all made perfect sense. I was not the catch that my lying wife said I was. I was set up. Gloria fucked me, and that for an extra thousand dollars and then got the hell outta Dodge. Tanya had stayed with me, and we had become an item of sorts. But marry her? And could I trust her? She knew I was well heeled if not actually rich; was that the attraction? Maybe not, she was forty, and maybe looking for someone to hold on to, someone like me. Shit! What a mess.

It was Friday. I'd cancelled my date with Tanya to nail the bitch, my wife. I was going to pin her and get the truth. And, what if the truth was that she'd played me as Tanya'd said; and yes, I did believe Tanya. Well, I had options now: I had Tanya.

I heard the garage door opener engage. She was home from shopping. I knew she likely had a date with Pollard tonight. I determined to be a wet blanket on her plans.

My truck, borrowed from a friend at work, was out front at the curb. It already had my stuff in it: a trunk and two suitcases.

"Honey? You're home early?" said Pamela.

"Yes, something came up," I said.

"Really?"

"Yes, I found out that you and Pollard have been playing me. Tanya outted you," I said. "Got anything to say?"

"Oh my God!" she said.

"I doubt if God is on the side of liars," I said. "You and Pollard are liars."

"Honey, it's not what you think," she said. "He and I, well, we just tried to give you a headstart. We knew you were too straight laced to go for it yourself. But, well that first night . . ."

"Yeah the night my great dancing got me two new girlfriends, well, potential ones," I said.

"Yes, and it worked out with you and Tanya. I mean . . ."

"Yes, actually, she decided that fucking me wasn't as bad as you think it is," I said.

"Honey, that's not true! You're fine in bed. You know that. Haven't we been good in bed together? I mean really," she said.

"Yeah, well you almost had believing that that was so. But, now I know it's just been a series of mercy fucks for good 'ole inept Conrad," I said. 

"Honey, you have to calm down and give me a chance to explain," she said.

"You mean to convince me of your sincerity, right?" I said.

"Well, yes," she said. 

"No, no, I don't trust you anymore. I'll be moving out. You won't stop your cheating, your cuckolding me. I won't any longer put up with it. So, we're quits," I said.

"Honey, wait a second. That night, the night of the dancing, that first night. Tanya and Gloria weren't the only ones that you danced with. Clearly you had something that other women wanted 

that made you a winner," she said.

"Yeah, but none of the others were interested in more than getting a little exercise with someone who could lead, on the dance floor that is.

"No, Pamela, you and I are done. I never wanted to do any of this swinging stuff. And, now I like the idea even less. You have a nice life," I said, rising and grabbing my coat. "I wish things had worked out."

******

"Fuck," he said. "And, I thought we'd struck gold with Tanya. But, you say she doublecrossed us."

"That's what he said," said Pamela.

"What are you thinking. How are we going to handle this—mess," he said. 

"I don't know. I honestly don't," she said.

"And he knows that you really don't have too high and opinion of his bedroom skills," he said.

"Yes, and I'm not going to be getting around that one anytime soon. He keeps referring to his mercy fucks," she said.

"Well, that's what they are," he said.

"Maybe, but they're real nonetheless. I do my level best for him every time we do it," she said.

"Does he ever get you off?" he said. "I mean ever?"

"He's come close a couple of times, but no, not yet. And now it looks like it'll never happen. I think he's going to divorce me. I just don't know," she said.

"Pam, I know I've said it before. And you've always pooh-poohed it because of the income thing. But . . ."

"Ron, I appreciate that you want me. And I want you too. But, well, I'd have to get a second job. I'm not cut out to be a part of the workforce. Not even," she said. 

"Well, anyway, I'm here for you. And, I still say we could make it together," he said. She smiled at his earnestness.

******

I headed for Calaboose. I needed a drink, and, a woman who gave a damn about me. I called Tanya to meet me there.

I was sitting in a booth when she arrived, maybe five minutes after me. 

"You sounded, I don't know—something," she said, plopping down in the seat across from me.

"Really? How about free or unsettled or angry or all of the above . . ."

"Wow! You and the missus, right?" she said.

"Yeah, right," I said. "We're done. I've got a proposition for you."

"And that would be?" she said.

"You and I live together. I pay the bills. We have fun—a lot. I need somebody, and you're the one I need," I said.

"Marriage I take it is off the table," she said.

"Can't do it. Things are too crazy in my head right now. Could it ever happen? Maybe, maybe not, I just don't know. But, what I am most certainly not going to be doing is crying in my beer. Done enough of that. Gotta get my act together. 

"Anyway, you interested?" I said.

"Okay, yes," she said. I smiled for the first time since she walked in. 

"I guess, I've kinda made your day, huh?" she said. "I mean judging from your smile."

"Yeah, I guess you have," I said.

And we were launched she and I. I moved in with Tanya, paid up her rent for the rest of the year that first week. It was win-win.

I didn't hear from Pamela for several days after the blow up. But, I did see her, twice. Once in the supermarket and once at the pharmacy. She knew my habits and she knew about my allergy. We didn't speak either time: I ran out of the places as soon as I spotted her. The second time, at the pharmacy, I saw her smile; like she knew something that I didn't and thought it was funny. Well, I didn't think it was funny, not at all. What was also true was the fact that she was fucking beautiful, and I couldn't get her out of my mind.

Then I ran into Pollard. "He had me in a situation where I couldn't easily run off: a flat tire on the highway three miles from the nearest gas station. He pulled over in front of me.

I faced him. I had a tire iron in my hand trying to get the lug nuts off so I could change the tire myself. He looked askance at the tire iron. "Get out of here Pollard. You're the last person in the world I want or need to be around."

"I could give you a ride to the station up the road. I know the guy; he can do that for you," he said. 

I was tired and hungry and wanting to get home. I thought about it. For some damn reason he didn't piss me off as much as she did. 

"I don't trust you enough to get in the car with you, but if you want, you can send your friend back," I said. "Oh, and don't expect a lot of gratitude for your efforts."

"No, no, I understand. She and I did some stuff. Hearts were in the right place, but our heads were up our collective asses," he said. "For the record, she misses the hell outta yuh. I wish she cared as much for me as she does for you."

"Yeah, right," I said.

"Seriously. It's been a real downer being around her since you cut country. Crying every night, complaining about everything—even my sexual prowess which as you know is pretty much nonpareil."

"That would be interesting to see and hear," I said, and I almost laughed.

"You should go back. I'd even step aside if I had to, at least for a while, while you two got back on track," he said.

"Thanks but no thanks," I said. "I'm not gonna be messin' with anymore of that swingin' shit. Once burned twice warned, as they say."

You're nuts to be thinkin' that way. Swinging if done right is a kick, and harmless. 

"We did it wrong, like I said, but you have a lot to offer a woman, any woman. Your problem is you just don't believe it, or in yourself. Yeah you're short and your dick is short, but you have a lot of other shit going for you.

"Hell, all I got is my dick. Pardon me if I use it to get what I want. You could do the same with your attributes. You just gotta try and give and give yourself a chance, a little time."

"Yeah well thanks, but no thanks. I gave it a try and it backfired on me," I said.

"I hear your making it with one of the women we hired. That right?" he said.

"We're sharing a place, yeah, if it's any business of yours," I said.

"Yeah, well it's not, I know, but good luck. And, I still think you need to call Pam and set up a meet. But in lieu of that, like I say, good luck.

I will send my friend back here to save you," he said. And he did. I wondered how he knew about Tanya and me, but really, it didn't matter one way or the other

I was late getting back to the house. But the welcome I got was worth the wait.

In the afterglow of some truly sensational sex, she pinned me. "You gonna take his advice?" said Tanya.

"To call the bitch? Hell no," I said. "What would be the percentage in that? I am well rid of her. Besides, I've got you."

"Hmm, yeah, but for how long? I mean since you're not interested in getting hitched as you say," she said.

"Look, Tanya, my emotions are still pretty raw. I can't even begin to think about something like that, like marriage yet. It's only been a week," I said.

I began to think that I had to break it off with Tanya, and I wasn't sure why; and, then I was sure.

******

I'd been on the job since 6:00AM. I usually got home around three or four, but today—starving like an Ethiopian chicken—I was looking to scarf some of the leftover meatloaf in the frig. I headed home. It was just after noon. They were in the kitchen. I came in the back way; they didn't hear me.

Tanya was in the kitchen and she had a visitor: my old, supplied by Pam and Pollard, female friend of one night, Gloria Billings age 22. They were laughing.

"He's that bad?" said Gloria. "I mean when I did him that one time, he was boring, but he wasn't that bad."

"Exactly, he's boring as hell. Plus he's just not real inspiring in other respects. You know, short body, short dick, short attention span. If I could get him to think marriage, it wouldn't be so bad; I need a little security. This arrangement can't last forever. But, I guess so long as he's paying the bills I'll put up with it, but I sure would like something a little more permanent," said Tanya. Gloria laughed.




Conrad and Pamela Winston



"Nothing like putting it where it is, girlfriend," said Gloria.

"Yeah, well he does make the moola. I aim to get as much of it as I can. I know he's got the money. I'm angling to get him to pay off bills outright; then, I could relax a little. At my age security is everything. You, you've got time; you're still a kid for chryssakes.

"Yeah, a kid maybe, but no fool. I'm looking for a little security too. Anyway, maybe we'll both get lucky one of these days. Here's hoping," I heard her say; probably raising her iced tea in an informal toast. They laughed.

So I was nothing to her. Well if so, I was gone. Sooner or later I'd be hooking up with an actual woman who actually loved me, and who actually might be well off on her own. Well, one could hope.

I decided to get it over with. I headed into the dinette. "Hello, girls, glad I caught you with your pants down. I'll be moving out right away, Tanya, then you can begin the hunt for someone a deal less boring," I said. I was smiling, broad and sincerely. 

"Conrad! How long . . ."

"Long enough. I heard it all. I'm boring, useless in bed, but economically a keeper. Well, I was, now, no more," I said.

"But . . ."

"Look, Conrad, it was just girl talk. We girls always diss our guys—all of them. You guys do it to us, so don't get all huffy over a couple of tired broads talking a little meaningless smack about you, okay?" she said.

"Actually, Gloria, I appreciated what you said about me. It helps a little. But frankly, ladies, I need some things from my woman too. I'm not just some fucking money machine here to finance your dreams, Tanya. If I can't get a little respect, and a deal of sincere loving, then, I'm the hell outta here. Goodbye," I said. And I was, outta there that is.

******

I was sitting in my usual spot in the Calaboose bemoaning my miserable luck with the fairer sex. 

Jerry, my favorite barkeep, noticed. "Whatcha thinkin' cowboy?" he said.

"Nothin', just meditating on the vicissitudes of fortune as regards my less than spectacular luck as relates to the opposite sex," I said.

"Huh? Was that English?" he said. 

"Yeah, I guess," I said. He laughed. 

"Yeah, ratchet it back a bit; you'll be upsetting the riff raff among us," he said.

"Consider it done," I said.

Why the hell couldn't I be gay for god's sake; I'd have a better chance at having a good relationship. The hetero thing wasn't working too good for me.

I had decisions to make. Pamela, Tanya, Gloria, all of them pretty much saw me as next to useless as a bed partner. 

"Know any female woman who might be inclined to fall madly in love me, and I mean 'for' me?" I said. I was looking straight at Jerry when I said it.

"There's plenty of them around. But frankly, dude, none of them are going to be much in the market for someone with your emotional baggage. Get over those other ones and just start over. Everybody goes through shit like you are at some point. I'm still madly in love with my high school sweetheart, but she married way up in class from me. Oh, and I still shed a tear or two now and again over her," he said.

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. "If I had to do it over, I'd move to the Philippines and find me a hot momma and live the life of Riley," said Jerry.

"The Philippines?" I said.

"Yeah, my mom's from there. My dad was stationed at Subic Bay in the early eighties. She was a bar girl, real pretty; still is. Dad fell madly in lust with her, supported her while he was there; and, later married her. I came along in eighty-three. 

We've all gone back a couple of times to meet mom's family and to have some fun. I'm here to tell you Filipina women are second to none when it comes to beauty and taking care of their men. I ain't shitin' yuh either," he said.

"Yeah, well maybe that's what I should do, just get outta Dodge; I mean way outta Dodge. The Philippines, you say?" I said.

"Yeah. Hell, if you decide to go, let me know. I can see to it you get put up for free and get you oriented to the country, maybe even help you get a job," he said.

"Oriented?" I said.

"Yeah, some stuff you gotta be aware of if you've never been over there," he said. "But, once you get the hang of it; it's fantastic. Seriously," he said. 

"Yeah, well, I'll keep it in mind. Can't be much worse than the situation I've fucking been in here," I said.

"Freakin'-A." he said.

******

Later: I had in fact talked to Jerry, I had in fact met his mom—who was indeed a forty-nine year old hottie—and I am in fact currently seated in 2C, United Air, on my way to Manila.

Yeah, I quit my job. Cleaned out my accounts and created a new one. I was sitting on roughly five-point-five million Philippine pesos, $141K American; and, I had a job interview with some guy named Romy Gilchrist, an American ex-pat builder who had once been one of Clea Moncrief's lovers. Clea is of course Jerry's hottie momma. 

Things were looking up. And, I wasn't looking back. Crazy? Maybe, but I needed to do it. 

I figured I'd be able to catch on with Gilchrist Construction in some capacity, but of course until that first paycheck came streaming in, it was not a done deal. But, then it was.

Jerry'd not been lying. Mister Gilchrist, a huge hunk of a man: six-three and two-eighty at least, met me at the plane. He put me up in the El Presidente, gave me a tour of the city the next day, oriented me to my new duties during the rest of the week, and got drunk with me on Friday night. The pay? Fifty gees. It was enough for me. And I got on with living, and what a life it would turn out to be!

******

It was a month later, and another Friday night at the Global, my eighty-proof hangout. "So your marriage imploded," said Romy Gilchrist.

"Yeah, I guess that's the way to describe it. She had a lover that she expected me to be okay with, on the side, as she put it. I actually tried, idiot that I was, but in the end I got my head outta my ass and just cut country—literally. Well, here I am," I said.

"Yeah, and I'm glad to have you on board. Anyway . . .

"So, have any of the local females got you in their sights?" he said.

"Huh?" I said. He laughed. "I've only been here a week."

"I guess not then. But they will. A word of advice. Be real careful. You're prime cut American beef. And the girls—let alone the women—will be on you like confetti right soon," he said.

"No, I don't think so," I said. "My wife left little doubt in my mind that I was less than useful as a man. I will not be in the hunt for female companionship in anything like the near future." He laughed again.

"You could be built like Quasimodo and sport a two-inch dick; you're still gonna be under sexual fire right soon, trust me," he said.

"Yeah, right," I said. And, now I laughed.

"You've got an American passport, and you make good money, for here. Again, you really are prime cut," he said. 

"Well, if I were to hook up with some girl or woman, it would have to be for something other than those kinds of things. I'm not into gold diggers. Actually, when one gets right down to it, my income is the main reason my wife didn't dump me outright; I'm sure of it," I said. He snickered. 

"There's worse things than having a wife who chose one's money making ability over one's sexual prowess or amazing good looks. Both of those latter two things fade with time. Intelligence and work ethic do not. You might want to think about that," he said. "I speak from broad experience."

"Hmm, maybe," I said.

"My current wife married me for my money. I know it; well, that and my American passport; she's got her green card now. She only got that so we could travel some: she doesn't care about being an American per se though eventually she may have to. Can't be a green card holder forever. She treats me right, and only cheats on me occasionally; I keep a blind eye to it—the guy's her childhood boyfriend; I had him checked out. He's poor, but okay otherwise.

"And that doesn't bother you?' I said.

"Not unduly so. She doesn't know I know and takes great pains not to rub my nose in it; she knows that that would be the kiss of death for us," he said.

"Again, why doesn't it bother you. I mean—she's cheating." I said.

"Technically, but no it doesn't bother me. I'm twenty years older than she is; she simply needs the occasional younger dick. And, Like I say; she treats me right and doesn't deny me when I need it. That's enough for me," he said. I had to smile.

"Well, I can't say I feel the same about that kind of stuff. But, anyway, my wife and I are the same age, so your situation is not the same thing," I said. He shrugged.

******

She was sitting at the dinette table stirring her coffee. "He's been gone a year," she said.

"Look, Pamela, he's gone and he's gone for good that's obvious. You need to get with the program, divorce him, marry me, and live happily ever after," said Ronald Pollard. She snickered.

"Unless he's proven to be dead, I am not marrying anybody else. No matter what anybody thinks—including him—I love him and I want to grow old with him. But, if I was inclined to marry someone else, Ron, it'd be you," she said, smiling. He didn't return the smile.

"Pam, I liked the guy too. I think he's an idiot for shining you on. Frankly I can't believe he did that, no way is he going to find your equal," he said. "But, he did do it, shine you on; and now it's time to think about the future.

"Anyway, I'm here for you, and I always will be," he said.

"Thanks," she said. "And, I do thank you for being there for me. I don't know what I do without you." Now he did smile.

******

Time waits for no one, and it sure as hell wasn't waiting for me. It was my five years anniversary of my having left my wife. I had a date with Romy at 6:00PM to celebrate, but that was still a few hours off.

"Yes, my name is Lisa," said the very pretty maybe twenty-something as she put my JD on the rocks down in front of me. She was the new early show bartender, so she said.

"Conrad," I said introducing myself.

We talked for some little time since I was the only customer in the place at the moment: it was just past 3:00PM. It was Saturday, and I was off. 

I'd been in The Typhoon Bar and Grill several times, it was Aussie owned but Filipino run and staffed. It had the virtue of being open twenty-four hours: a major plus in my book. 

This was the first time I'd actually had a serious conversation with any of the barkeeps or waitresses that I'd so far met. Lisa was different. I was interested in her. I was maybe fifteen years her senior, but as for that I really didn't know.

As it got time for me to head out—I had told the boss I'd meet him at a different place at 6:00PM; I finished up my drink and said goodbye to Lisa and that reluctantly; well, she was a dolly.

From our conversation I'd learned she was poor, not married, supporting three sibling brothers and her parents, and she could be had for twenty dollars American per hour if I decided I was interested. Well, it was the way things were in Quezon City these days.

I actually considered her offer. I hadn't been laid in quite a while, and I was horny as hell. Make it with a prostitute? Well, why the hell not. Besides, Lisa, was one heckuva turn on. I'd be thinkin' on it.

And, I did think on it, and I did take her out, and I did fuck her for pay, and she was wonderful, or, maybe it was just because it had been six months since the last time I'd dipped my wick. 

As she was getting put together to leave, I noticed she seemed kinda somber, down.

"You okay, girl?" I said. And then she began to cry. I got the truth this time, and it did turn out to be the truth as I later learned from her mom.

She was indeed a new bartender, and she was indeed a whore—but—a new one of those too. I'd been her first trick! I was flabbergasted.

Romy's warning came back to haunt me. But, no, this girl was for real. Not just some Filipina gold digger setting her sights on a semi-depressed American ex-pat. 

After that first go 'round, I began dating, not hiring, her for real. I met her family on the second date and saw to it that they, her family, were taken care of financially for the near term. Her thanks were way over the top and kinda made me feel like a hero.

Problem was, as Romy had indicated might happen, she seemed to have a hundred relatives all desperately poor. I couldn't pay all of their ways. And, then I had a problem; she asked me to marry her. The good news was that I was pretty sure that I was still married, but as for that, I really wasn't sure. I knew that Pamela had no idea where I was, so maybe she had dumped me for abandonment.

It was good news because I didn't want to get married. But I did want to keep seeing Lisa, and I did want to help her. I found myself looking to Romy for advice.

We'd been on the job all day, and we were cranking it up for Miller Time. 

"So you let her get her hooks into you," he said, laughing.

"You could say that," I said. "But, I am well aware of what's going on, and she isn't trying to pull any wool over my eyes or anything like that. But, that said, on the downside I haven't got the scratch to pay the way for her entire family corps."

"How bad do you want to help them?" he said.

"Bad enough. But, I'm not willing to go into the poor house to do it," I said.

"Any of them educated. Any of them have any business sense?" he said.

"Yeah, her brother Reynaldo and his wife seem pretty sharp. I've met them several times at family dos of hers," I said. Romy nodded.

"Buy a business, or, put one together for them, and let them have it and earn their own way. Kind of teachin' them how to fish instead of giving them a fish that you caught yourself," he said. I gave him a look, as understanding of what he was saying sank in.

"You know, that just might be the way to go with them. But what kind of business?" I said.

"I have a friend who is leaving the PI next month. He has a water company, kinda one of those Sparklets thingys, that he has to sell and so far no takers. You could probably get it cheap enough and put all of her relatives to work," he said.

"What about the employees that are already working there?" I said.

"Aren't any anymore. He shut the operation down three months ago. Just change the name of the company, pay the necessary bribes for the business to start up, and let your girlfriend have it. Just tell her that you are done with the outright handouts, and that now the family has to make a go of it on their own." I know other guys who've done it, and it's worked for them," he said. He gave me the guy's number. I called it the next day.

******

Over the next few days, I met the guy selling the business, and bought him out for twenty-five grand U.S. The same night we'd signed everything, I called Lisa and asked her to bring her brother Reynaldo with her. She'd tried to question me, but I put her off saying that he would be in good to come with her. She'd kinda reluctantly agreed to do as I asked.

The Typhoon was busy, but I had a table for four, and it was far enough back from the bandstand that I was pretty sure that we would be able to hear ourselves talk. I saw them come in. 

"Hi, Reynaldo," I said. "Glad you could make it."

"Thank you, sir Conrad," he said.

"Sir Conrad?" she said. She was real interested in why I wanted her relative to come on a date I had with her." Oh, and she was always calling me sir even though I had asked her not to a hundred times; it's a Filipino thing I'd later discovered..

"Yes, Lily, I'll get right to it. I've bought a business. I'm giving it to you. I suggest that you hire Reynaldo here to run it for you. You can be in charge of hiring the help: members of your family I should expect.," I said.

"What!" she said. 

"Yes, it's a water purification, sales, and delivery service. It did almost a quarter million American in business last year. The guy who I bought it from is a statesider who's decided to go home.

"Was that the King Water Company?" said Reynaldo. He looked interested.

"Yes, yes it is, was, whatever," I said.

"I know the company. I delivered for it before it went out of business a couple of months ago. That's the job I lost, Lily," he said.

This was getting interesting.

"Really?" she said.

"Yes," he said.

"Good, so maybe getting some of your customers back will be easier than I thought?" I said.

"Yes," he said.

We talked for a long time. I explained the reason I wanted to do this and why I wouldn't be just handing out cash any longer. I was thrilled to discover that both Lily and her brother were in favor of the deal. And the deal? We closed it the next day at a lawyer's office.

The sex that night was very very good. I took her missionary twice and doggy once. God she was a good piece. We lay breasts heaving for some little time.

"You're wonderful," she said. I smiled my thanks for her thanks, but in the back of my mind all I could think of was the five years that I had not seen my wife. I made a tentative decision to rectify that little reality.

I hit the send key. The email would be there when she woke up in the morning.

******

She was clicking her cell phone searching her email. "Sweet Jesus, Ronald! It's him!" she screamed.

"Who?" he said. But, he know who "who" was.

She was reading furiously ignoring the man across from her at the breakfast table.

She handed him the phone. His eyes got big. "He's in fucking Manila for chryssakes!" he said.

"Call the airlines," she said. "Find out how much a ticket to Manila costs." She shook his head.

"We need to talk about this first," he said.

"Talk schmalk!" she said. "We're going. We're bringing him back, and there is no two ways about it."

"And, what if he simply won't come back? We can't make him, Pamela, much as we might want him to," he said. "All he says here, really, is that he misses you, and wishes that things had been different. But, they're not different," he said. She sagged back in her seat.

"Yes, well, we simply have to convince him that he's loved, wanted, and better off with us than over there with a bunch of foreigners," she said.

"They might be foreigners, Pam; but there are undoubtedly many there that are his friends now. He may not feel at all out of place there. I mean it's been five years!"

She nodded. "Yes, I know. But we're going. Please call and find out how much it would cost us. Please. I mean now," she said. He shrugged. 

"Okay," he said. She watched him dial. He talked for several minutes to the person at the travel agency that he knew fairly well. He hung up.

"It'll cost $1,641 round trip—each," he said. She started at the high price. 

"You have money on tap now since the sales, right?" she said. She knew he had liquidated some of his properties, and they hadn't touched any of the money gotten from those sales so far. He'd been thinking about investing in government paper as a hedge against the miserable economy.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. She rose and headed upstairs. "But, that money is supposed to go for our retirement." She ignored him.

"Come on we gotta pack. But first call 'em back and make arrangements for the first flight out," she said. He did as she said.

******

The airport was newer than he remembered from his one trip to the Philippines some twenty years before. That had been a graduation present from his grandma: round trip ticket to anywhere he wanted to go in the world. He'd chosen the Philippines then: it'd been the recommendation of his dad, and he'd been glad he'd chosen the PI. But, this trip was a totally different thing.

He was a man sleeping with another man's wife, and hoping to get the cuckolded hubby to be okay with it. He knew it was going to be a futile attempt, a complete waste of time and money, but his woman was sure she could convince the guy to acquiesce. They just had to do it right, approach it right, and she was certain that she knew how to make it happen. All they had to do, according to her, was to get him to listen calmly quietly to her arguments. "Yeah right!" he said out loud.




Conrad and Pamela Winston



"What?" she said.

"Nothing," he said. "And we need to hire a cab or a driver." She nodded. "No outsider with any brains drives a car in Manila.

******

She broke the hug. I was flustered. "Uh—you two—how . . ." I said.

"You sent it from your company computer, Conrad. The letter had an address and phone number at the bottom," she said. Of course. That's how they had found me. But also of course, I had not expected them to come seven thousand miles to try!

Or, had I. Maybe subconsciously I'd hoped. But, and it was a big but, he'd come along too. I certainly had not been hoping for that consciously or subconsciously.

"And you, Mr. Pollard? You here to spread your pollen in the PI?" I said.

"No, Conrad. I'm here because she begged me to come. She—we're—on a mission," he said.

"A mission?" I said.

"Yes, Conrad, we are," said Pamela. "Two missions actually."

"And those might be?" I said.

"To get you to sit down and talk with me—us. And, that accomplished, to help you pack for the flight back to the states, back home," she said. I leaned back against the office's door jamb.

"And you, the both of you, are of the opinion that anything you could say would make me willing to go back with you; I mean with the both of you," I said.

"No, well, that is not until we talked. But, that said, after we've talked? Yes," she said. I nodded.

"You going to let us make our case?" said Pamela. I just stared at the two of them.

"Conrad, we'll buy the meal. Anywhere you choose. We've come a long way. Just got in last night. We haven't even eaten yet, our last food was a couple of thousand miles ago. Just had some coffee this morning, a half hour ago. Please, whaddya say?" said Ronald Pollard.

"I haven't eaten either. I guess, if you're payin', breakfast would be good. I have to admit to being curious as to how my own personal cuckolder team would think that they could convince me to return to a situation that I have come all this way to get away from," I said. The two of them nodded.

"We understand," said Pamela. I stared at her once again, boy did she look pretty. She had to have gotten up real early to look this good at 8:30 in the morning.

******

The Typhoon had a smattering of customers mostly out on the patio sipping their morning brews. 

The food in front of us, nobody was talking. I shrugged and began eating. My two visitors followed suit.

I waited. It was their show.

"I guess I should begin," said Pamela. I shrugged again. She took it as a signal to start her spiel.

"First of all, Conrad, I want to thank you for being willing to sit down with us. It saves us the trouble of having to tie you up and gag you," she said, and laughed.

"Yes, well, I guess I should feel lucky then shouldn't I," I said. She snickered.

"A couple of things. Ron and I both came because I felt the need to double team you. Yes, I know, we tried that before and it didn't work out like I hoped it might. 

"Secondly, it is my considered judgment that you don't realize just how much you are loved and needed and wanted and that sexually as well as in other respects, and all of that by me. Hence, it shall be my job to convince you of such. Are you with me so far?" she said.

"If that's your main plan, you're going to fail because I simply will not believe that you care an iota about me sexually. In other respects, as you say, maybe; but sexually? Hardly," I said.

"Hmm, maybe," she said. "Well, and no sex not the main thing, but it is important, and it is true. No, the main thing is something you said, did, yourself. You emailed me after five years. You likely knew, not suspected, but knew that I was still doing it with Ron, or somebody. I could never go without sex for five years. And, I am more than persuaded that you haven't."

"Okay," I said.

"Good. Is she pretty?" said Pamela.

"Yes, but she and I are casual not in love. And, there have been a few others, one night stands. So, now, are we done with true confessions?" I said.

"With the true confessions? Yes," she said.

"Conrad, what your wife and I do is not purely recreational. Not anymore. She loves me. She loves you more, but she loves me too. We need to get that understood here from the gitgo," said Pollard. I looked down. "I can live with it, because I'm the original pragmatist. I love her pussy among other things. And, I especially love being able to satisfy her. It's tough for a man to get a woman off every time, but Pamela—every time we do it."

I knew that what he said was a true thing. They'd been together one way or another for too long for it to not have happened. Hell, for five years I had been totally out of the picture. 

"So why do either of you need me?" I said. "If you love each other, I'm just guy who's in the way, a third wheel is the analogue I think."

"Why do you think we came all this way to get you to come back. To be my husband again," said Pamela.

"Truthfully? To get me to pay the bills?" I said.

The other man pulled out an envelope that he'd had inside his jacket and pushed it toward me. I looked him askance.

I opened it. It was a bank statement. Checking account; savings account; CDs, five of them: collectively $783,000 and change. "I sold some houses," he said. I lost some money on some of the deals, but overall I'm still solvent, and I have some rental properties still on the books that I'm holding onto," he said. "I don't need your money, Conrad. Nor does she. If after we leave here, you decide not to come home; she will divorce you, or you her, and I will marry her myself. Frankly, five years of listening to her cry over your picture is long enough."

I nodded. This did put a new wrinkle in the mix. "You were crying over my picture?" I said, looking at my wife. She nodded and was clearly on the verge of tears as we spoke.

"Okay, all of this being true, and I guess that I have to grant that it looks like it is, the question still remains why do you need me?"

"Damn it, Conrad, Ron already told you. Because, dear heart, I love you more than anything or anybody. Yes, I need—well want—his big cock to pleasure me. And, he's right, I do love him too. Can't deny it. Can't give him up. What I can do, is make it more than worth your while to allow me to do my thing with Ronald, while at the same time doing my level best to make you happier than you have ever been," she said.

"So, then the question becomes can I live with being a willing cuckold. Can I expect that what would likely be truly sensational sex make such a life palatable to me?

"Basically, yes," said Ronald.

"Have you moved in with her?" I said.

"No. I stay over a lot, but I have my own place and she has your house: yours and hers," he said. I nodded, I had to think.

We'd talked for two hours straight. In the end we'd adjourned to come back the next day and figure it out.

******

I was sitting outside on the patio waiting for them. They were early, but I was earlier.

"Hi," I said. My tone seemed to calm them.

"Hi, stud," said my wife; she was still that. I frowned. 

"I'm no stud. You've made that plain enough, the both of you, so no more nonsense, okay?" I said.

"Okay, Conrad, no offense, I was just trying to be—I don't know—nice I guess," she said.

"How we doin'," said Ronald, speaking for the first time, defusing things.

"Maybe okay," I said. Just them Jose brought us the coffee I'd ordered in advance for the arrival of my guests. 

"Thanks," said Ronald to the retreating waiter.

"Maybe okay?" said Ronald. Pamela was listening intensely to the exchange.

"This is the deal," I said. "I'm coming home. I'm coming back to you, Pam. And—Jesus this is hard—and I will be your willing cuckold. But, and it's a big but, I get first dibs on your pussy anytime I want it. No more limiting me to just during the week. I'm gonna be wanting it on weekend days too. Oh, you and Ron here will have plenty of opportunities to get it on with each other. But, I get first refusal whenever and wherever."

"Okay," said Pam, tentatively. "But? There's a but in there somewhere that you haven't mentioned yet, right?"

"But, I'm keeping my girlfriend here in the PI, and I will be commuting back and forth here every couple of months. When I'm here, I will be running a business I'm going to start up with an Aussie friend of mine. My girlfriend will be our front to get around the limitations on foreigners owning PI businesses outright. My pal and I will be alternating resident managers. He and I will each be taking forty percent of the action and my girlfriend, who will be the nominal owner, will be drawing down the remaining twenty percent," I said.

"What business?" said Ronald. 

"Fast food. Filipinos love the stuff," I said.

"Would you consider a third managing partner?" he said. I looked askance at him. 

"Maybe," I said. "I'd have to ask my bud." He nodded.

"I should say the buyin's half a mil," I said. He didn't bat an eyelash.

"No problem," said Ronald.

And we did form the partnership. We initially put up six outlets around Manila and Quezon City, on the island of Luzon; there were going to be more.

It turned out that each of us would plan to spend four months a year in the PI, and overlap each other for a minimum of two weeks to make the transition each time. We were more than successful. 

After a year we'd each netted close to a million American in profits; and Lisa and her family had never dreamed of living better. And, as it turned out; she and her brother Reynaldo were excellent at doing the political thing: a necessity in the PI. She was still my girl but she was also dating an army colonel on the side. This on the side shit was getting to be something else, at least in my humble opinion.

And Pamela? When I was gone she would be with him exclusively and vice versa. And when we were both home; I got the bigger slice of the action—good for my ego.

Yes, our set up was anything but conventional, but so what. We didn't need anybody's permission. And, even I was getting to see the advantage to me in the arrangement. Our sex lives had never been so fantastic.

Ronald and I got along just fine thank you very much; and, Romy was more than helpful in that regard.

Things were working out.

******