112 comments/ 63650 views/ 61 favorites Gold for Plastic Ch. 01 By: justthejanitor Sitting on my porch on a warm spring day, smelling the lilacs and lavender while savoring the taste of cold lemonade in my mouth, it was hard to get my head around the idea that anyone would want to live life differently than this. But, of course, people do, they do it all the time. And at least a few of them knowingly trade the promise of this away for something different, for something poorer, something golden for something plastic. There wasn't anything particularly unusual about my courtship with Megan. We met right after college, dated for a couple of years, fell in love and got married. There was no real drama involved and almost everyone who knew us mentioned that they were confident we'd get married from the time we first got together. Now, we may not have been a modern Romeo and Juliet, but most people thought we made a great couple and time spent with each other was easy and fun and we never really tired of each other. At least I felt that way. I guess our life as a married couple wasn't particularly noteworthy either, but I was happy. She worked at a publisher and I got a pretty good job as a programmer for a software company. We were renting a half of a duplex, saving for a house. We had two cars, a big TV and a pet fish. We liked the usual stuff, going to movies, out to dinner, dancing and we got more than our fair share of sex. We planned for the great American Dream and, as soon as we had enough money set aside, we were going to start a family. We talked about our future like we could order it from a catalogue. We wanted 2 kids at least, a boy and a girl, and a house with a porch and a fireplace and a big back yard with lots of shade trees. Life was good, and looked like it would only get better. Our trajectory toward the picket fenced American dream was right on target until the day Megan met Theresa Thomas. Theresa worked in the copyright office at Megan's company. She was single and carefree and, as Megan saw it, led an incredibly interesting life. After they first met, I remember Meg coming home night after night to tell me all about Theresa and what she said or what she wore or who she argued with or what she'd done at some party. It wasn't long before Theresa became the required topic of conversation at dinner, after the movies, in the hot tub, whenever. Honestly, it didn't bother me at first, but after a while I noticed that Megan didn't just admire Theresa's life, she actually envied it. She talked jealously of the trips she took with her boyfriend and the carefree existence she had, attending parties and concerts and going to high end restaurants. The unstated message was that she wanted more of what Theresa had, and gradually, that message started to rankle. A couple of months after they met, Megan started bringing Theresa around to grab a bite and hang out, and so I got an early firsthand dose of my wife's apparent role model. Now, I'll be the first to admit that she was nice looking. She had smooth, olive skin, jet black hair worn long, a curvy, well-proportioned body and dark, penetrating eyes. But, as attractive as she was physically, her personality was really annoying to me. She carried herself in a superior manner, and seemed to have an expectation that the people around her were there to serve her. It wasn't uncommon for her to make jabbing remarks about the great unwashed that didn't run in the circles she did and, generally speaking, her inferiors essentially consisted of the vast majority of the people she met, and I'm pretty sure that included me. Initially it wasn't clear where the arrogance came from. She'd gone to the community college and certainly didn't seem like some sort of an intellectual giant, her job was no great shakes and she definitely didn't have a lot of her own money. Sure, she was good looking, but she wasn't exactly super model stuff and there are lots of equally pretty girls without that kind of attitude. Honestly, all I could conclude was that her sense of superiority was directly related to her perception that she associated with a better class of people. She had a habit of going on and on about the opinions and habits and possessions of a group of people she socialized with, all of whom were directly or indirectly connected with some sort of local tycoon named Gabriel Putnam. Theresa became acquainted with Gabriel, through a friend of his named Stuart, who she'd met and started dating a year or so previously. Now they both spent a lot of their free time at Gabriel's house, which turned out to be some gargantuan mansion on the outside of town. As far as I could gather, Gabriel didn't have any real accomplishments of his own, evidently getting all his money by being born into a family that controlled an obscenely profitable chemical company. And so, with no real responsibility, he'd managed to perfect the art of living a life of leisure and evidently went out of his way to share his life style with anyone he deemed worthy of becoming his friend. Not surprisingly, his mansion was the focal point for all the 'beautiful people' in town and they'd gather there to party five or six nights a week. It wasn't long before I realized that, if you didn't habituate Gabriel's house, then you weren't really worth the time of day, at least in Theresa's little world. Well, based on Megan's growing adoration of everything Theresa, it was pretty clear to me that she was craving a night at Gabriel's in the worst way. So, it came as no surprise when she came home one Thursday in an incredibly manic mood after Theresa had invited her to go to Gabriel's later that night to introduce her around. I guess I assumed I was going too, but when I asked what I should wear and what time we'd be leaving, Theresa made it clear that it was a girl's night and that I was going to be out of the loop. At that point, alarm bells started going off in my head, but they were just faint enough that I didn't panic completely. The alarm got considerably louder when I saw Megan come out of our bedroom wearing a fairly provocative black dress that showed off her legs and cleavage and that she'd gone all out on her makeup and her hair. When she dolled up like that she could be breathtaking and that night, wearing a dress that showed off all of her beautiful curves, she looked every bit the part of a sandy haired, brown eyed, pale skinned dream; a cross between the peachy country girl and some bikini model dressed to the nines. Really, she was just so gorgeous that it was making me queasy thinking how other men would be scheming to try and get lucky once they got an eyeful of her, and I developed an overwhelming impulse to ask her to cancel or insist that I go too. But before I figured out a diplomatic way to broach the subject and voice my concern, she was out the door with Theresa and on her way. After she left, it didn't take long before I realized that waiting around the house while she partied was going to drive me crazy, so I decided I'd better occupy myself somehow and I figured I could catch a football game with my buddies. My best friends were Greg Martin and Bill White, a couple of guys in the neighborhood that I could always count on for company. I'd known Greg since college and Tom since we'd moved into their neighborhood and along with their wives, Sally and Julie, we spent a lot of time socializing together. The men would often golf, or watch football together and it wasn't uncommon for the girls to go shopping or even to the spa together. As couples we'd go to the movies or bowling or miniature golfing and even took a couple of vacations as a group. A night watching football with them wasn't at all unusual, but going over to their house without Megan was definitely out of the ordinary and both Sally and Julie wondered what was up. I guess I was pretty vague about the answer, so like dogs hovering around a cornered squirrel, they kept pressing until they got the whole story out. Nobody said much, but I did notice some raised eyebrows and the men nervously ribbed me about my wife looking to upgrade. I laughed at the jokes, but I really didn't think it was all that funny and I'm pretty sure everyone started to feel my discomfort. Megan got home around 11:30 that night and couldn't stop talking about the people she met and the good time she had. She seemed a little buzzed, which didn't surprise me because she was never averse to drinking a fair amount in social situations. It didn't take long before her enthusiasm about her evening out started to annoy me. Sure I understood it was fun and interesting for her, but hearing her gush for a couple of hours about the people she met at a party I wasn't welcome at had me grinding my teeth and looking to change the subject. Listening to her review of the evening, a few names kept coming up over and over. The super rich Gabriel was evidently 'charming' and 'witty' and a gracious and generous host who was quick to lavish food, booze and compliments on his guests. As a popular, attractive, ultra-rich single guy, Gabriel played the part of the ultimate in bachelor eligibility, with women of every age hanging on and around him all night long. Not far behind him, though, was a guy named Palmer, a local lawyer, who seemed to be a very close friend of Gabriel's. Megan described Palmer as having a commanding personality, conveying with some evident admiration how he dominated conversations and tended to be the focus of attention even if Gabriel was in the room. Apparently, everyone seemed to know him or of him and he was a fairly popular guy and, based on Megan's smile and excitement as she recanted the evening, she was very flattered that he spent a lot of time talking to her. Then there was Theresa's boyfriend Stuart, who, according to Megan, seemed a little younger and a little more 'playful'. I guess Theresa was all over him all night, but that didn't surprise Meg because, apparently, over-the-top public displays of affection were commonplace at Gabriel's. I listened to her drone on about what a great time she had over the next few days and a couple of times I got close to saying how lame I thought it was to fawn over a bunch of socialites and their wanna-be hanger-ons, but I figured I'd just sound bitter or jealous or both. Eventually, my non-responses must have sent a message because she finally dialed back the conversation about the mansion and its ever-so-interesting occupants and visitors. About a week later, she got invited again. This time I insisted on going along and was more than a little relieved when she didn't object. The mansion was just on the outside of town and was a huge pseudo-classical monstrosity complete with porticos and decorated columns , statues, fountains and a whole lot of square footage. It had a long driveway and there must have been 25 cars parked along it and on the adjacent lawn. Once inside, Megan showed me around a little. The mansion was absolutely massive and the party was spread all through it with people eating in the dining room, talking in a gigantic living room, playing pool in a game room, sitting in the hot tub, swimming in a hug pool or watching a movie in a media room. Really, people were everywhere, talking, laughing, gesticulating, drinking and touching. Eventually, we found Gabriel and Palmer with half a dozen other people in a 'den' off of the main hall. She introduced me and they seemed nice enough. Both Gabriel and Palmer looked to be in their early 40's, both were well tanned, wore expensive clothes, cologne, that sort of thing. They both had the easy, confident manner of men who felt in complete control of their environment and they moved from conversation to conversation with incredible ease and confidence. Anyway, they both greeted me fairly warmly, made a little small-talk, asking about my job, my educational background and then politely moved on to talk with more interesting people, mainly some pretty girls, including Theresa and my wife. Maybe I looked a little lost, so someone got me a drink and motioned to a nearby couch where I sat down with Megan and a group of 4 or 5 socialites for what turned out to be, for me anyway, a stunningly boring conversation about the merits of vacationing in Venice versus Florence followed by comments on the appropriateness of the behavior of a number of fashion models. I tried to stay engaged, but after half an hour, I lost the battle to boredom. Remembering a room with a TV playing a baseball game, I whispered to Megan that I was going to look around some more and she nodded ok. I spent the rest of the evening watching a high definition whitewash of a game with another guy who was trying to pickle himself in scotch. By the time the game ended, he was snoring and I was more than ready to find Megan and go home. But, finding Megan didn't turn out to be quite so easy. She wasn't in the den or the dining room or the living room or any of the big rooms off the main hall. For one, heart pounding moment, I figured the only rooms left were the upstairs bedrooms, but on my way to the stairway I spotted her on one of the smaller patios outside of the kitchen and dining room. For a moment, and only a moment, I was relieved to find her, but my relief washed out of me like a flushed toilet when I was able to completely take in the scene. Megan was standing by a fountain, closely facing Palmer. He had a drink in one hand and had the other arm wrapped low around her waist with his hand on her butt. He laughed at something she said, paused to take a drink and then lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. She laughed at what he was doing and in a half-hearted effort, gently pushed him away with her free hand. I felt like my heart was exploding and I bolted through the patio door and was at the fountain within seconds. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, what the hell is going on?" I half-shouted as I pulled his hand off Megan and roughly pulled her away. Megan looked mortified and Palmer reacted with a surprised glance that melted into something that seemed vaguely amused. "I'm just enjoying talking with your wife, nothing to get worked up about." "Uh, that's enough enjoyment asshole; she's married you know and we don't go for that sort of thing." I think he was trying to look conciliatory, but all I could see was a smirk. Megan began turning beet red as I frog walked her away and I thought it was over her own embarrassment at being caught in a compromising situation. I learned just how wrong I was when she hissed into my ear: "Matt, don't be an ass. Palmer is a friend and one of our hosts. You are totally overreacting. Seriously, you're embarrassing me and need to apologize right now." I was stunned. I had nothing to say to this, so I mumbled something about him more likely getting a broken jaw than an apology, and kept walking her off the patio, through the house and out to the car. Both of us were really fuming and we said nothing for most of the ride home. Finally she turned to me and said; "What the hell possessed you to humiliate me like that in front of my friends?" I spit back, "What the hell possessed you to start making out with a guy in public?" "We weren't making out. We were just flirting a little and I see nothing wrong with it. You're fucking overreaction is the real issue." The argument went on like that for the rest of the car ride, the walk up the driveway to the house, the entire time we got ready for bed and right up to the point we both pretended to fall asleep. I was taken aback by her behavior, but completely flabbergasted at her defense of it. I had to ask myself a million times if I was overreacting, if this kind of thing was really normal for a married couple, if somehow I should see it her way. But I couldn't and remained astonished that she thought a behavior that was clearly out of bounds to me, was ok to her. How could we see the situation so completely different? By the next morning, things were still a little chilly, but had improved to the point we could talk to each other. I considered having a big sit-down discussion about the night before, but I got lazy and decided to let it slide. Really, I guess I talked myself into believing that she was so embarrassed by her own behavior that she must have decided to downplay its significance, otherwise the defense of her actions made no sense to me. But, when she got an invitation to Gabriel's again on Saturday I put a quick stop to any idea that she would be going. We had already agreed to a barbecue at Sally and Greg's, which, in my view, was going to be a lot more fun and it would have been really rude to cancel. Also, I was still mortified by her behavior on Thursday and wasn't at all interested in giving Palmer, or any other guy there, another shot at my wife. Not surprisingly, Megan was none too happy with my decision and she sulked and griped the whole morning. Her mood hadn't improved any when we got to the barbecue and she pretty much refused to socialize at all. She drank more than usual, gave one word answers, didn't laugh or even smile at all, and sat by herself every chance she got. Finally, when she was alone in the house, I went inside to confront her. "Hey, what the hell Meg, you're really messing up this party. Sally just asked if you were sick or something and I had to just say you're in a bad mood. I know you're pissed at me, but don't take it out on everyone here. You need to come out and at least try and have some fun." She gave me a sour look and said she wanted to go home. I asked her again to stick around and try and have some fun, and then she really blew up. "Look Matt, I know you like boring things like barbecues and like to have boring conversations with boring people like Greg and Sally and Bill and Julie and are perfectly happy coming to this boring place to have....." She stopped in mid-sentence because of a crashing sound in the kitchen immediately behind us. We both turned to see Sally, who was on her knees, desperately fumbling at the shattered pieces of a serving plate. She'd obviously heard everything Megan had said. "Sally, I'm, uh, sorry...." I choked out while Megan sat there silently, Sally smiled painfully. "Oh, it's ok, it's a cheap plate..." She said, painfully pretending they were both talking about the plate while she picked up the last few pieces. We watched in silence as she left the room and then sat there for a few moments more, still saying nothing. Finally, Megan turned to me and started. "Look, Matt, I didn't..." I held my hand up for her to stop. "You win. I'm going to let everyone know we are leaving. I'm pretty sure it's going to be impossibly awkward if we try and stick around." I walked outside to our friends whose conversation stopped suddenly when they noticed me on the deck. I had no idea what to say so I decided on something that everyone knew wasn't true. "Hey, you guys, Meg isn't feeling so good, so I think we're going to cut it short and just go home. We'll catch you later." They all murmured something about hoping she'd get better and that we'd see each other soon. There didn't seem like there was anything else to do, so I got Meg and left. I was on a low boil the whole ride home, saying nothing, realizing if I opened my mouth I'd explode. She sat quietly looking out the passenger window, but didn't seem to be particularly remorseful. No tears, no attempts to apologize or justify, nothing to make me think she was sorry. I was so perplexed by her recent change in attitude that I didn't even know how to start to question her about her behavior , so all I could muster when we got inside was to say "You can really be a little shit sometimes Meg." She looked back at me defiantly and simply replied: "Now you know how it feels to be embarrassed in front of your friends." We spent the rest of the night in silence. There was a gradual thaw over the next few days and by mid-week, things seemed to be back to normal, or what had become normal. We talked and laughed and watched TV and had sex. But the new normal also included Theresa, so she came over twice later in the week and she and Megan spent those evenings watching TV, listening to music and talking. Gold for Plastic Ch. 01 One thing that didn't happen that week was a trip to Gabriel's. I figured that maybe Meg decided she'd overdone it a little because she didn't even ask to go. But, she did bring it up the next week and by then I'd cooled down enough to say ok. I really didn't need another night at the snob-house, but there was no way I'd let her go alone after what had happened the last time. She made me promise I wouldn't cause problems and I made her promise she'd use a little better judgment when she flirted. The scene at the mansion was pretty much the same as before with maybe half again as many people. Palmer and I managed to shake hands and apologize to each other and the evening settled down into a series of elitist conversations that couldn't have been duller to me. Megan was behaving herself and I was bored so we agreed that Theresa would bring her home and I left early. That seemed to work out ok and for a while, that became the pattern once or twice a week. I'd stay for an hour or so, talk a little, get bored and leave early and Theresa would bring Meg home later on. Megan seemed happier and I found I was adjusting. It seemed like a win-win. About this time, things started heating up at work. There was an important update to some software that was already past its release date and it was turning out to be really, really buggy. I was pulled off all of my normal duties and put in charge of fixing it, and, as usual, I wasn't getting a lot of help. My boss made it very clear to me that it would be really good for my career if I could get this fixed within a couple of months and also suggested that they might have to look for someone else if I couldn't. So, naturally, I knew I'd be spending a lot of time at work after hours and on the weekends. This wasn't the first time I had to put in long hours at work over a long stretch and I was expecting Megan to throw a fit. Previously, when this sort of thing happened, Megan would bitch about it and make me promise to make it up to her with a nice vacation or something. This time, though, she barely complained at all and said she was ok with it as long as she could hang out with Theresa and the rest of her new friends when she got lonely. I suppose I should have had some serious misgivings about that, and I guess I did feel a little nudge of concern, but I knew it would be a huge issue if I left her alone at home night after night without anything to do. So I got her to promise to behave and made peace with the thought she'd be hanging out at Gabriel's a lot without me. Over the next couple of months I worked my ass off on the project and was not only getting rid of the bugs, but made a couple of upgrades in the code itself. I was happy with my work and so was my boss, so things at work were ok. Things at home seemed ok too. Meg and I weren't fighting at all and when we did have time to spend together, we got along great. Really, except for the work-imposed limited time we had together, everything was pretty much the same as before Theresa came around. Maybe one thing that was a little different was the sex. What we did and how we did it didn't change much at all. Our typical time in the sack had always started high intensity with a lot of oral sex and a pounding session, usually with her on her knees or on top. Then she'd bring me back up with her hands or her mouth and we'd have a nice, long, luxurious fuck with her on her back. That pattern was pretty much the same still, except that Megan was now really into the ambience. She'd make sure candles were lit or some flower petals were on the bed or some nice music was playing. Frankly, that sort of thing did nothing for me, but she'd also started wearing lingerie before and sometimes during the sex, and I loved that. Corsets, garters, cat suits, heels, leather, she wore all kinds of stuff, and it was all like crystal meth for my libido. Seriously, just the mental image of her lying on the bed in some smoking hot lingerie with maybe a thin sheen of oil on her body was enough to get me completely unhinged right in the middle of work. Now, of course, I didn't want to upset the apple cart, but I did want to how the clothing change came about and so, one night after a particularly steamy session in which she'd worn a smoking hot corset, I had to ask where she'd gotten it. "I got this shopping with Theresa at Guinevere's. Do you like it?" "I love it. In fact, I pretty much love everything you've been wearing lately to bed." I hesitated a bit. "What, uh, inspired you to start wearing these outfits?" "Oh, mostly talking with Theresa. She always dresses up for Stuart and after listening to the results she gets, I wanted to give it a try." She smiled. "You seem to be ok with it, so I kept it up." "Uh, yeah, I'm definitely ok with it," I said, gazing at the way the corset shoved her breasts up. "See, Theresa isn't so bad. You should lighten up on her. She knows what she's talking about when it comes to the bedroom and that's good for you." "Yes, I guess I can't really argue with that." I said, as I watched her tits rise and fall above the corset with her breathing. Very briefly, a disturbing thought flitted at the back of my mind. "What if I'm not the only one that Megan's newfound love of lingerie has been good for?" Well, after a couple of months, I finished debugging and sprucing up the software and it finally got out. It turned out to be so successful that my bosses bumped up my position and gave me new responsibilities and a raise. The price for that, though, was that while I was working less than I had during the de-bugging crunch, my hours were still more than they had been in the past. So, to some degree, we'd kept up the pattern that had been established in the months before. We had a little more time to spend together, but if I had to work late, Megan would head out to Gabriel's for the evening, which was usually a couple of times a week. Valentine 's Day was coming up and I got it in my head that I wanted to buy Meg some more lingerie. She loved to wear it. I loved to look at her in it. It seemed like a great idea. So, when I got home a little a little earlier than expected one night and found a note that said she was out with Theresa, I figured this might be a good time to go shopping at Guinevere's. Now, Megan had a particularly hot black corset that really got my motor running and I decided I'd love to see her in a red one. But, getting the right size on clothes is always a problem for me, so I thought I'd better check the tag on the corset or even bring it in to compare before I bought anything new. The problem, though, was that I couldn't find the damn thing. I checked in all her drawers, in her closet, in the laundry, pretty much everywhere. I sat for a minute trying to decide where else it might be when a faintly disturbing thought came to my mind. "Maybe I can't find it because she's wearing it right now." I brushed the thought away at first, but the more I considered it, the more likely that possibility seemed to me. And then an even worse thought, "If she's wearing it, who is she wearing it for and what are they doing?" My mind was now vacillating quickly between being certain she was entertaining some man at Gabriel's and deciding I was being paranoid and that there must be some other explanation. Eventually, though, the suspicious part of me started to win out. I called her cell phone and it went to voice mail and then called Theresa's and got voice mail too. I could think of no other way to find out what was going on than to actually find Megan and see what she was doing, and that meant going to Gabriel's. I hesitated for a couple of minutes, debating whether finding and confronting her was wise, but ultimately I realized I had to know. I got in my car and drove to Gabriel's. There were only a half dozen or so cars parked around the driveway when I got there. When I saw one of them was Megan's, I knew I was on the right track, but my heart dropped into my stomach and I felt like my life was starting to come apart. I parked, walked deliberately up the drive and knocked on the door which was answered by Jordy, a huge, amiable black man with a shaved head, whose job was to keep things quiet and safe. I considered trying to push past him to get inside, but even though I'm a pretty big guy, Jordy had 50 pounds of muscle on me and I knew I wouldn't get far. I decided to play it as cool as I could; I said hi, chatted a little and acted like I was expected. He recognized me from my previous visits and didn't put up any sort of a roadblock when I ambled past him into the house. As casually as possible I began searching for any sign of Megan. I checked the patios, the dens and the living rooms. When I entered the kitchen I saw Theresa and Stuart, seated at a table, drinking some wine and eating some sort of cheese. They were both dressed in bathrobes, and Theresa's hair was uncharacteristically unkempt. Everything about them seemed post-coital. She looked up when I entered the room and her mouth dropped open in surprise and I thought I caught a hint of worry in her eyes. "Theresa, where's Megan?" I asked as coolly as possible. "I, uh, I'm not sure she's even here. I thought she might be at home," she replied nervously. I snorted and gave her an incredulous laugh. "Try again Theresa, I know she's here." As Theresa was trying to formulate another lie, she gave things away when I saw her eyes nervously shift towards a stairway that I knew led to some of the upstairs guest rooms. I set my jaw, moved quickly to the stairway and started up, 2 steps at a time. "Matt, stop. Matt...don't." Theresa was almost pleading. At the top of the stairs was a hall with maybe half a dozen doors coming off either side. I had no option but to try them all. I opened the first door carefully and saw a lump lying on the bed in a darkened room. My eyes adjusted and I realized it was just some guy who was taking a nap. The next two doors yielded empty rooms, but there was a couple on the bed in the fourth room. The room was about as dark as a high end restaurant so I had trouble making things out as the only real light came from half a dozen candles on the headboard as well as some faint light coming through a window and the minimal amount of light from the door I'd just cracked open. The couple on the bed didn't respond when I slipped into the room and I thought they either didn't hear me or were so used to people looking in inadvertently that they simply weren't fazed by the idea of a temporary or accidental audience. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the back of a woman, slowly, rhythmically rocking her pelvis over the man below her. She was leaning close to him, supporting her weight with her hands resting on either side of his neck. They were making very soft, murmuring sounds; the room smelled of oranges and candles and sex. Her back glistened with a thin film of sweat and her light colored hair hung down to brush against the man face. I looked closely at the woman and caught a look of her face in the candlelight as she turned slightly. It looked like Megan. I stepped a little closer and my foot struck something on the floor. Looking down, I recognized her black corset. My heart broke. I leaned back against the wall, found the light switch and turned it on. Megan turned quickly and looked back at me. First I saw annoyance, then surprise, then something else, fear maybe, I wasn't sure. She rolled off the man and I could see it was Palmer, sweating, aroused and more than a little annoyed. Megan sat upright beside him, looking straight at me. She was completely naked, shining with sweat, her hair was wild, her nipples were an engorged red and her face was flushed from the sex. She began to speak, haltingly, her voice thick with a hint of both anger and worry. "Matt....why....how....why are you here?" "I came to see my wife." I said, flatly. "Nice to see you honey." We stared at each other, looking for something, anything, that would make this situation understandable or acceptable. I could see she was on the verge of tears and, although I didn't realize it at the time, I think I'd already crossed that boundary myself. But along with pain, I could also feel anger welling up inside me, white and hot and explosive. I felt my fists tighten, my jaw clench and my nostrils flare. I stepped purposefully toward the bed, toward Palmer, and I could see fear in his eyes. I knew I was going to beat him senseless, to hurt him physically like he'd hurt me, but as I got close to the bed a large black hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. Suddenly, I was facing Jordy, and he looked angry and resolute. I pushed off him to take a step backwards toward the bed, but he grabbed me in a bear hug and started dragging me from the room. I managed to get my hands on his shoulders and took him down to the ground and we wrestled there for a minute. I was able to get free momentarily and started toward the bed again and when Palmer saw this he essentially cowered like a little boy behind Megan. But, Jordy caught me again and this time was able to drag me back out into the hallway. He pushed me against the wall and started speaking in a quiet, earnest voice. "I can't let you do this, man. It's my job. But think for a second. Just think. That guy is a first class prick for sure and you'd probably feel better for a while by sending him to the hospital....or worse. But is it worth jail time? Is he? Will it change anything if you hurt him? Or kill him? Think, man, think." I continued to struggle against him for a minute or two, but his words sunk into me. I could accomplish nothing here by either talking or fighting. My shoulders slumped in capitulation. "Shit." It was all I could say. I looked him in the eye and nodded, he let me go and I started walking down the hallway. Near the end, I turned and saw Megan by the door, in a robe, looking after me. "I'm sorry Matt." She said. "Bitch." I answered back and watched more tears gather in her eyes. She didn't follow me as I started down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs I ran into Theresa, still in her robe. She had a look of uncertainty and maybe a little bit of concern about her. "Don't do anything rash, Matt. She loves you. You love her. Don't screw that up." I looked at her and laughed, bitterly. Without answering I walked out of the mansion, got into my car and drove home. Once I got home, I felt paralyzed. I had no reference for what I was supposed to do now. Pack and leave? Pack her stuff? Wait to have a big discussion? Get a lawyer? Get a gun? Lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling I obsessively and unproductively considered the merits of all my various choices, my mental indecision playing against a confused emotional backdrop of anger and heartbreak. Time slipped by, and I was still on the couch when Meg got home around an hour later. Her arrival took the decision about what to do next out of my hands. The big discussion option became step one. She'd been crying and she had no makeup on, but her hair was damp and I could tell she'd taken time to grab a shower. I sat up as she entered the living room and she carefully sat down in a chair facing the couch. She looked at me with sadness and uncertainty and I thought maybe she thought I'd start the conversation. I had no idea what to say at that moment, so I waited her out. "Matt, I'm sorry you saw that. I know how bad that had to hurt and I'm sorry. I never, ever wanted to hurt you like that. You know that, right?" I digested the little she had just said. Sorry that I saw it. Sorry that it hurt. I didn't hear that she was sorry that she'd done it or even any suggestion that it was a mistake that wouldn't ever be repeated. It took me a minute to compose myself and organize my thoughts enough to reply. "Well. It does hurt. It hurts a hell of a lot really." I looked to gauge her reaction, but nothing really changed. I realized I had to know what she was really thinking, what she was planning, because any plans I could make were totally dependent on her, I felt like she had all the cards. "So, Meg. What are you going to do? You coming to get your stuff and move in with him? What?" She looked shocked and replied aggressively. "No Matt, God no." She paused. "I love you. I love being your wife. I hate it that I've hurt you. I want to keep things like they are. " I could see she was sincere, but something about the way she was talking bothered me. "What do you mean you want to keep things the way they are?" She looked down biting her lip and fumbling with her fingers. It looked to me like she wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "Look Matt, you're really emotional right now and I don't think this is the best time to...." "You've fucking well got that right. I'm very fucking emotional right now and I think you could say I want to get a few things straight." I was practically spitting the words at her. She seemed a little cowed by my aggression and anger, but her eyes didn't leave mine. "OK , what do you want to know, then, Matt?" "Well, for starters, what the hell kind of a relationship do you have with Palmer? Are you in love with him or what? And....and.....again, what exactly do you mean by you want to keep things the way they are?" She still looked uncertain and uncomfortable. But I was now seeing something else in her eyes, something like defiance. "I wouldn't say I'm in love with him. Not in the same way I'm in love with you. Maybe it is a kind of love, I suppose, but..." "A kind of love? What the hell kind of love is it Meg? The kind of love a married woman can have with another man? What is that, exactly, because I'd really like to know?" "You can love more than one person, Matt in more than one kind of way. I'm married to you, but I'm not locked in some sort of emotional prison where I can't reach out to others...." "Good God, Megan, what the hell are you talking about? Reaching out to others? I just caught you in bed with another man, not giving out free meals to the poor or buying Christmas presents for your Mom and Dad. What the hell kind of love allows a married woman to hop in the sack with another man?" She looked like she was searching for the right words. I was furious and getting more impatient and I think she could see that her answers had been making things worse. "Our relationship means a lot to me and to him. I enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. He fills out my life..." "What the fuck are you talking about?" I was practically screaming at this point. "You sound like you aren't even sorry that you've been screwing him. You sound like this is.....this is.....normal, acceptable behavior...." "Normal Matt? What the hell is normal?" Now she was getting a little aggressive, and the way she was defending herself with defiance and anger was confusing and frustrating me. "Is it normal to artificially restrict all of your romantic feelings to one person for life? Is that normal Matt? " "Yeah....yeah, I think it is. I mean, normal is you sleep with the person you are married to. You reserve that kind of....that kind of love.....for your husband. That's normal Megan. That's what married people do. That's what the hell is expected." I was breathing hard and staring incredulously at her. I went on. "My God, Meg, it sounds like you want to keep this going. That you....that you want both of us at the same time. Is that what you mean by 'you want to keep things the way they are'? You can't seriously believe that's possible." "Look Matt, like I said, you're really emotional right now and you're not in the frame of mind to rationally evaluate this." She waited for a second, maybe thinking I'd interrupt, but I let her continue. "My relationship with Palmer doesn't and wouldn't ever affect the relationship I have with you. There isn't any real reason I can't have a close relationship with both of you. And, if you love me, and cared for my happiness, I think you'd make the sacrifice to your pride, and that's the only thing you'd have to sacrifice, and allow me to see Palmer." She was using a measured voice and her words came out as if she were delivering a practiced speech. Maybe it was. Still, though, I was having trouble really comprehending what she was saying. Gold for Plastic Ch. 01 "This is unbelievable." "Matt, couples do this all the time." "Maybe, but as far as I'm concerned, those kind of people really aren't committed to each other, aren't even really married. You know that. You know that I don't 'get' the whole open marriage thing. In fact, you pretty much thought the same thing once upon a time..." "I'm not talking about an open marriage where we go around and fuck whoever we want...." "You could have fooled me, 'cause I'm pretty sure I just saw you fucking around with Palmer." "I don't want to sleep around. I just want a relationship with Palmer and with you. I want to be your wife and his....his...." "His what? His slut? His party girl? What?" She bit her lip, thinking. "I don't know......his....his mistress, I guess. I want to be your wife and his mistress. That's the way things have been the last month or so and that's what I want going forward." I was speechless, staring at her with my mouth and eyes wide open in surprise and disbelief. Finally, I found a few words. "His mistress? You want to be his mistress? You know Meg, this isn't the 18th century and we don't live in Versailles and Palmer isn't some kind of a lord." I was standing now and I took a step toward her, and pointed to myself. "And you know what else? I'm not some kind of a wimpy assed dandy that is willing to put up with this shit. I'm not going to flush my self-respect down the toilet just so you can play at being Marie Antoinette or whoever the hell you want to be." At this point I was so angry and confused and frustrated that I felt completely out of control. I couldn't take any more and knew that if I kept arguing with Meg, things would probably get worse. For the first time ever, I understood how a man could strike a woman, and I didn't want to cross that line. "You know what Meg," I finally said, moving toward the door. "I'm out of here." I stormed out of the house, got in my car and started driving around aimlessly. Eventually, I stopped at a bar and had a few drinks but my mood only got worse. By now it was well past 2 a.m. and my mind was virtually torturing me with replays of the fight I'd had with Meg. At this point, I really wanted to stop thinking about it and somehow, someway, I knew I had to get some sleep. Benadryl always throws me for a loop, so I picked some up at a drugstore and checked into a motel. With the help of the liquor and the late hour and the Benadryl, I finally managed to drift off to sleep in spite of myself. I woke up around noon the next day and it took a few minutes to get oriented. It was Saturday. I didn't have to go to work. I was in a motel because I'd had a fight with Meg. The fight was because she wanted to keep sleeping with her lover. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, my heart sank and my mind was instantly on fire again. Feeling a terrible sense of loneliness and rejection, I tried vainly to make any kind of sense out of my situation. Nearly beside myself with anxiety, I realized that I was in desperate need of perspective and counsel. I needed a friend. Like a robot, I drove over to Bill and Sue's. When I got there, they could tell immediately that something was very wrong. I looked and sounded like a wreck, which seemed about right because that's pretty much the way I felt. Bill got me a beer and we sat down together in the living room. Even though the fight with Meg was dominating my mind, it still took me a while to get the story out to Bill. It hurt to tell what had happened. It hurt my pride. It hurt to admit that the woman I loved was so very different than I thought she was. It hurt to admit that another man had managed to get a claim on her. Bill listened carefully to the story. He didn't rush me or ask many questions, but kept shaking his head in disbelief through my whole discourse. I was on the verge of tears and had to stop to get myself together a couple of times. "How are you feeling now? Are you going to be ok tonight?" "I don't know Bill. Honestly. I feel like shit, I guess, but I think I'll be able to keep it together." "How do you feel about Meg, though? Frustrated? Homicidal? Conciliatory? What?" I thought about that for a minute. "Lots of things I guess. I'm furious what she's done. I guess I'm sort of humiliated too. I mean, she knows I'm not going to put up with her having a lover. She knows that. So, I guess it feels like she's really just left me for some other guy...." Bill shook his head. "She didn't leave you Matt. She left herself. She left behind what she used to be and became someone else. She hasn't been the same for a while. I think so, Ted thinks so and the girls do too. The current Meg really isn't the woman you married. " That made a lot of sense to me and I nodded as I considered what he'd said. Bill patted my knee, stood up and said "Hold on a second." He went to the kitchen and came back with a card and handed it to me. It was the business card for a lawyer named Charles Taylor. "Look, I don't know if this is necessary, but I think you need to at least think about some of the legal stuff. This guy's pretty good." Bill explained. "He helped with my brother's divorce and I think he'll be fine for you. As far as I can tell, if it comes to divorce, you two shouldn't have a whole lot of things to squabble about, so you might not even need a lawyer. But, if her boyfriend is a lawyer, I think you'd better call someone like this guy to even things up just in case." What he was saying made sense to me and I told him I'd give Taylor a call Monday morning. I hung out at Bill and Sue's almost until midnight and, after turning down an invitation to spend the night, drove back to the motel and sacked out there. The next morning I went home in order to get some clothes and stuff. Meg wasn't there and had left a note explaining that she tried to get hold of me but couldn't because I'd left my cell phone at the house. She asked me to call her and said that she had taken her things and moved out so that I wouldn't have to. She spent half a page apologizing about how I found out and tried to explain, again, how she really thought we could make our marriage work even if she had a relationship with Palmer. She promised that I'd get all the attention and love I needed. Finally she asked me to call her so that we could talk some more. I thought about what she'd written. I thought about what she'd become. I thought about her request to talk but I couldn't see the point. I didn't call. I didn't answer my cell. I stared at the TV without comprehending what I was watching, I listened to some music, I curled up in a ball and tried not to cry. Eventually I was able to get some sleep and put the worst weekend of my life behind me. As planned I called Charles Taylor Monday morning. I was able to get an appointment a few days later and took a couple of hours off work to meet with him. Fortunately, his office was fairly close so it was easy to get there and back without missing much work. Taylor mostly did divorce cases and, from what I'd heard, usually did fairly well for his client. He wasn't a scorched earth kind of a guy, but he had a reputation for protecting his client's interests without starting a war. I was mad, for sure, but I guess if I was going to start exploring legal remedies, I wanted to make sure I didn't burn any bridges in case Meg came to her senses and I changed my mind. We went over the facts of the marriage. How long we'd been married, what we had in the bank, what I was making, what Meg was making, what we owned. He told me it really didn't matter much why we were getting divorced, especially since there were no kids. I could be a meth addicted Satan worshipper or she could be a prostitute that liked to bring any number of STDs home and it wouldn't really change the outcome substantially. Still though, he wanted to hear my story. I wasn't sure if he was just curious or if he thought the background would help him decide how he ought to represent me. So, I took my time and told him about the events of the last couple of months. He listened pretty carefully and nodded or shook his head to show his agreement or distaste for what I was saying. When I mentioned Palmer's name, a look of recognition came over his face. "Are you talking about Palmer Atkinson?" "Yeah, that's the guy. You know him? He's a lawyer I think." "Sure, we were school together, same class in fact. " He paused a minute, maybe deciding if he should give out any more information. "You know, his name is really Peter. He goes by Palmer because he thinks it sounds more sophisticated or something." "No shit." I laughed a little. "I guess it's all about appearances with him." "Yeah, mostly. He's not exactly a 'shoulder to the wheel' kind of a guy. I'm pretty sure he finished right near the bottom of our class and I really doubt he ever passed the bar. From what I hear, he never really got around to practice law." I was a little surprised to hear that. "He seems to live the high life, nice clothes, nice car. What does he do for cash?" "Yeah, well, his wife is some sort of an heiress so I guess he hit the marriage lottery, so to speak." I was stunned. "His wife? He's married? Really? What the hell?" Taylor frowned. "Sorry, I figured you knew about that. Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's married. Or at least I'm sure he has been. " He sat back. "You think it will make a difference to Megan if she doesn't know?" "It might. But then, her being married didn't make much of difference to her, so maybe not." Now I had one more thing to think about. If she didn't know, would it matter to Megan that he was married? If it did, would it matter to me if she wanted to come back at this point? I had my doubts about either question until some of her words from our confrontation came back to me: Couples do this all the time. She knew. She knew and it didn't bother her. I spent the next few days in continued, self-enforced, isolation. I kept my cell phone off and refused to answer the home phone. Megan left half a dozen messages about how 'we needed to talk' and asked me to call, but I just really didn't see the point. I did read the e-mails she sent. She wrote, long, complicated, meandering notes trying to get me to see things from her point of view, painting a picture of how our life together wouldn't be so different if she developed some 'outside interests' and how I would be free to do the things I enjoyed without her interference. She mentioned that she saw her relationship with Palmer as being self-limited, that it was something she needed 'for a while' but that she couldn't know how long, exactly, it would last. I continued to be incredulous, writing that having sex with another guy wasn't an outside interest of a hobby like a knitting club and was a behavior that few married men would consider. She completely dismissed what other couples did, claiming we shouldn't be slaves to convention and writing, again, about how her relationship with Palmer wouldn't take anything away from 'us'. She tried to compare her 'physical relationship' with Palmer to a whole body massage I'd arranged for her during a vacation we'd had about a year after we married, saying that it was 'different' than what we shared, no better and no worse. She went on to point out that he had some common interests with her, like travel, and cultural things, that I didn't share and that her relationship with him helped her to satisfy those interests. She claimed, somehow, that her relationship with him was similar in some ways to the one I had with Bill or Greg because we had a common interest in sports that she couldn't share with me. At that point, I was so frustrated I stopped responding, and, as with her phone calls, began ignoring her e-mails also. I felt I had to, it seemed like we were speaking different languages. About a week after my visit with Charles Taylor, Theresa came by. She showed up just after I'd gotten home from work, dressed casually in jeans and a winter jacket, sunglasses perched on a knit cap. I decided not to invite her in. "What do you want, Theresa?" I asked flatly. She gave me a look of controlled hostility. "Why aren't you talking with Megan?" "I think we've pretty much said all there is to say, Theresa. I've got all the information I need at this point and I frankly don't want to hear any more about her relationship with Palmer or how she wants to be his slut or how I should be super excited to put up with that shit. I have to wonder what the hell kind of a woman Palmer's wife is to go along with this crap." I was using a purposefully harsh tone, trying to make it clear to Theresa that I was hurt and angry and not in a mood to 'make nice' in any way. She wasn't fazed. "You know, Megan's actually met his wife, Matt. They get along ok. In fact they understand each other very well because she's had a couple of boyfriends herself. She lets Palmer do what he wants to be happy and she gets the same consideration. She just isn't a possessive ass like you are." Theresa let that sink in for a second, and then softened her voice a little. "Look Matt, Meg loves you and you love her and just because she has some interest in another guy, you're letting your ego get in the way and you're trying to trash a perfectly good relationship. Nobody is going to be happy if you keep this up." "Really Theresa? Is that the best you can do? That's pretty much the same argument Megan used last week so I guess I'm a little curious. Are you using her words, or was she using yours? " I actually really wanted to know the answer to that question. How much of this came from Theresa's influence and how much was some sort of a latent fantasy that Megan always had but I just wasn't aware of. Had Megan been mutated into another Theresa, or was this alternate persona always there, just waiting to come out under the right circumstances. I got no hint from Theresa, though, because she completely deflected the question. "What difference does it make who's using whose words? The fact is that just because you can't handle that Megan has some needs that you can't fill, you're willing to torpedo your entire relationship. It's pitiful really." I knew she was trying to hurt me when she said I couldn't fill Meg's needs and, the truth is, she did. Sex with me evidently wasn't enough to keep her physically satisfied and my social skills weren't enough to pass muster either. But to describe my objection to her affair as pitiful was really too much. Anger and frustration had been welling up inside me the whole time we talked and it all erupted like a red hot geyser as I launched into a diatribe in a rush of bitter and resentful words. "Pitiful? The fact that I expect fidelity from my wife is pitiful? Seriously? How about this, Theresa, how about the idea that someone who can't stay faithful to their wedding vows is pitiful? How about the idea that the real way to torpedo a supposedly loving relationship is to have sex with someone outside of it?" Theresa looked like she wanted to respond, but I was on a roll now. "And speaking of needs, what if Megan develops a need that neither the shithead Palmer or I can fill? What then Theresa? Does she pick up a 3rd lover? And if he isn't quite enough, does she get a 4th? Hell, maybe she should just fucking put her 'needs' on Craig's List and hookup with the perfect asshole to fill each one. How about that Theresa? She could get one guy to fuck her ass really hard and another guy who's really romantic to dote on her and some rich guy to buy her all kinds of expensive stuff and another guy with a really long tongue to give her oral sex......" Theresa finally interrupted. "Leave it to you to take this to some ridiculous extreme. Why can't you just deal with the current reality and address what she wants right now?" She seemed like she was trying to calm me down by sounding reasonable or sophisticated, but I wasn't buying. "Sorry, but Megan crossed the 'extreme' line when she decided she needed to have 2 men and expected me to be ok with it. It's not right Theresa. It's just not right." I stopped and fumed while I caught my breath for a second and when Theresa didn't respond, I launched in again. "And....and, what about my 'needs'? What about the fact that one of my 'needs' is to have a faithful wife who is devoted to me enough to....uh....not fuck other guys? How am I going to get that 'need' filled in this little relationship you envisioned for Meg and me?" By the end of my second tirade, Theresa was visibly frustrated. "Again, Matt, what the hell has changed for you personally if Megan spends some time with another guy other than a blow to your pride? Are you really going to force Megan to choose? Because I really don't think you can make her give up Palmer right now, and even if you could, she's going to be pissed at you forever and she might end up seeing him or someone like him anyway. Why force her to make that choice? Why can't you be happy with what you've got now....with what you've had for the last couple of months? Have you really been that miserable?" I was tired of arguing and sick of Theresa, and, as I thought about what she had been saying, I realized neither she or Meg had any understanding of where my mind was at. Suddenly my choices seemed clear and I shook my head and with a resigned voice saying, "I'm not going to make Megan choose." "You're not?" She seemed slightly puzzled, maybe a little hopeful that she'd gotten through to me. "No, I'm not." I motioned toward the kitchen. "Hold on a second, I've got something I want you to take back to Megan." I walked quickly to the kitchen, grabbed Charles Taylor's business card and returned to Theresa at the door. "Here, give this to Megan. It's my lawyer's card. If she goes to his office in the next couple of days, she can start signing off on the divorce without having to be served at work. It'll save embarrassment." Theresa stared at the card incredulously. "Wait, what is this? I thought you just said you weren't going to try and force Megan to give up Palmer." I shook my head in mock disbelief. "You and Meg just don't get it, do you Theresa? No, I'm not going to make her choose because there is no choice any more. I guess you both seem to think that there is some sort of negotiation going on, but there isn't. The marriage is over, and I think that pretty much happened when she shacked up with Palmer. And, honestly, if that hadn't done it, when I saw how much she disrespected me by thinking that I'd be willing to go along with it, well, that pretty much made it absolutely final." Theresa's look of surprise faded to one of understanding and maybe a little fear. "You're not even going to fight for your marriage? People work this sort of thing out....." I actually laughed at that point. "As far as I'm concerned, there's no marriage to fight for. Understand this, Theresa, the marriage is over and there are no choices or negotiations anymore. Please be sure to make that clear to Megan, because, frankly, I don't really want to talk to her any more than I have to." Theresa looked stunned as I slowly closed the door in her face. Gold for Plastic Ch. 02 I actually laughed at that point. "As far as I'm concerned, there's no marriage to fight for. Understand this, Theresa, the marriage is over and there are no choices or negotiations anymore. Please be sure to make that clear to Megan, because, frankly, I don't really want to talk to her any more than I have to." Theresa looked stunned as I slowly closed the door in her face. I found that ending a marriage isn't as easy as closing a door. Sure, I'd made my decision and I knew that it was the right one since I knew I couldn't possibly live with the arrangement Megan had wanted. But, even though I'd smugly declared the marriage over to myself to Megan and to Theresa, I was having a lot of trouble adjusting to the situation. All the time and all the emotion and all the effort I'd put into a 5 year marriage seemed wasted and I couldn't shake the feeling that every moment of happiness I'd had with Megan was either a lie or had been tainted by what she had done. It seemed that everything I did and everywhere I went reminded me of Megan and happier times. I found myself walking out of a restaurant without finishing because my meal was the same thing I'd ordered the night I asked her to marry me. The tulips blooming around the neighborhood were a painful reminder that they'd been her favorite flower. Labradors were her favorite dog, rock her favorite music, vanilla her favorite smell. Sunny days reminded me of days outside, camping or gardening or simply taking a walk. If it rained, I was reminded of lazy days by the fire, snuggled together in a comforter, slowly succumbing to the urge to make love. It became impossible for me to sleep in 'our' bed or eat at 'our' table or even live in 'our' house and I eventually had to move out of the duplex altogether. Honestly, I was absolutely miserable and I wanted to believe that she was feeling the same loneliness and sense of loss that I was suffering from and that she'd at least voice some sort of regret. The marriage was over, I knew that and I knew that it had been my decision, but I desperately wanted some sign, some signal she had valued our relationship and that, on some level, she deeply regretted her choices. Sadly though, other than a few halfhearted attempts to get me to change my mind, she essentially gave up and it was clear that she was more than willing to let our marriage go quietly. I knew it was probably easier for her, because she had a lover, someone she could be with that would blunt the pain and make it easier for her to move on. It seemed unfair to me, somehow, that Megan got to continue with half of what her life had become and I was left without any of mine, particularly since the half she had included some new and apparently exciting things. Although I didn't and couldn't know everything she did that summer before the divorce was finalized, I was aware that she spent most of her free time with Palmer and Theresa and their group. I also knew that she took at least two vacations with him, one a weekend to San Francisco and another week long trip to Europe. If she was missing me in any way, her new lifestyle was surely mitigating the pain. The divorce was finalized a few months after my doorstep conversation with Theresa and without much acrimony. The financial stuff was fairly straight forward. Since I had originally stayed in the duplex I had to give her some cash for the furniture we owned, but otherwise, things sorted out pretty uneventfully. We each took half of our savings, our own clothes and our other personal stuff. She took her car, I took mine. Even though I was the one that initiated the action, I couldn't shake the depressing feeling that it was maddeningly easy to end a marriage that we'd each promised would last until the day we died. And, even though I was already having a tough time adjusting, I was surprised with how empty I felt when we finally signed off and I watched Megan walk out of the lawyer's office, no longer my wife. I was staring off into space, thinking about how strange and sadly surreal and clinical the divorce proceeding had been when I heard Taylor clear his throat. I glanced over at him and saw a look of concern. "You ok?" He asked. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?' "Well, you don't look fine." "It's been a tough day, you know? End of something that I thought was good and that I thought was going to last forever. Hard to swallow." I was shaking my head slowly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "Are you having second thoughts about whether splitting up was the right thing to do?" Taylor asked. "I don't think so, no. I mean, she completely betrayed me when she started shacking up with Palmer, so I wanted out, I wanted a divorce, even though I knew it would hurt." I thought for a minute. "But, I guess I wanted her to pay some sort of a price. I mean, she's the one that trashed our marriage. She's the one that should be in pain. But here I am, I can barely function I'm so upset and she walks out of here to her boyfriend and will just go on. I guess I want her to feel some regret too. I want to hear her say she screwed up and that....that I'm the better man or something. I want her as unhappy as I am now." Taylor listened to me carefully, nodding sympathetically with what I was relating. He seemed to want to say something, but I got the feeling he was debating whether he should or not. Finally, he cleared his throat and carefully started talking. "Look, I've seen a lot of marriages dissolve and I've seen a lot of ex-husbands and ex-wives wish for just what you said. They want their ex to suffer for what they've done. They want them to have some sort of an epiphany that they've made a mess of their lives and they want the satisfaction of having them come on bended knee and cry about how unhappy they've become and how sorry they are and how much they wish they could change what they did." He looked at me closely, a look that said he wanted my full attention. "But here's the deal. That almost never happens. And, even when it does, even when the tearful ex admits in exquisite detail everything that they've done wrong and all that they're sorry for, the admission doesn't do all that much for the smart people, because they're the ones that adjusted well after the divorce, that have moved on. They've got a new wife and new kids and a new house and a new life and they've stopped caring all that much about their old life and their old wife and their old hurts. Look, I don't know for sure, but my guess is that, someday, Megan is going to regret what she's done in a big way. But you can't wait for that day. You have to start living your life in a way that you really don't care all that much how she feels. It's the only way to stay happy. Hell, it's the only way to stay sane." I didn't take Taylor's advice at first, although I thought a lot about it over the coming weeks while I stumbled through life, trying to adjust to the great gaping emotional wound that Megan had left me. The wound demanded my attention, reminding me of my loneliness, of her betrayal and of my apparent failure as a husband and as a man. In my best moments it was like a tethered wolf, snarling to get my attention and threatening to overwhelm me if I let it unleash itself. At my worst, it felt like some sort of mortal injury that would inflict an unbearable and relentless pain until it utterly consumed me. At work I was essentially unapproachable, writing code in silence, never talking or smiling with my associates. When I was with my friends, I moped, almost aggressively, and brought a dark miserable cloud of uncomfortable gloom into their homes. When I was alone, I'd stare at the TV or the words in a book or at the ceiling, waiting for the hour hand on the clock to magically move me closer to something resembling happiness. When I slept, it was only after I had cried. This kept up for weeks, maybe months. I wanted to take Taylor's advice. I wanted to stop thinking about Megan and just be happy. I wanted to have a new wife and a house and a baby and a dog. I just couldn't see how I could get there from where I was at. I felt like some man without clothes or tools or even a map, sitting on an ice float in the middle of the ocean who just wanted to get home or at least get warm. How do you will yourself to become something that you aren't? To feel something that you don't? Ultimately, I guess it was my friends that started to break the ice up for me. Over time, in their company, I slowly started to enjoy things that I used to do; playing games, watching sports, hiking, going to the movies. They were good enough to keep putting up with my moods and relentlessly tried any number of things to help lead me out of my melancholy. And so, with each passing week I'd talk a little more, smile a little more and, eventually, laugh a little more. One night after we'd all had dinner and played a couple of video games, they all ganged up on me and insisted that it was high time I started dating again. In mock anguish, I accused them of trying to get rid of me and that they wanted to pawn me and my problems off on some poor, unsuspecting girl. They pressed on and presented me with an ultimatum, an offer that they thought, correctly, I couldn't refuse. They had 6 tickets to a concert that I was dying to go to. One of the tickets was mine, if and only if, I could get a girl to go with me. Of course they knew I might try to scam them just to get to the concert, so there were a couple of provisions. She had to be unmarried and unrelated. She had to be roughly my age so I couldn't invite one of the old widows from work. And she couldn't take money in exchange for a date, which pretty much ruled out my first plan of inviting one of the working gals from downtown. There was a cute brunette with a nice figure at work I'd been a little friendly with that turned out to be available and willing to go. I felt awkward at first, but in the end, we had a reasonably good time. The concert was great and we stopped off for a late night snack and some drinks afterwards and I even got comfortable enough to ask her out again. We saw each other a couple of more times and had some fun, and, while we both knew that we were never going to be a couple, the time I spent with her gave me the courage and the ego boost to keep trying. Over the next few months I gradually started dating with some frequency and it wasn't long before I was going out pretty much every weekend. I found that there were a number of girls at work or at a gym I joined or from a couple of parties that I attended that were more than a little interested in me. Their attention and interest really helped me feel better about myself. While I really enjoyed their company, I didn't, or maybe, couldn't get serious with any of these women. I got close enough with a couple of them to have sex, which, for the most part, was very good and sometimes even a little bit wild. But, it was all purely recreational, not the kind of sex that grew out of a desire to get really, really close, the kind you had with someone to tell them how you really felt about them. The kind you had with someone you wanted to marry. All this time I still found time to hang out with my friends. We'd do all the usual stuff and they'd quiz me on all my latest dating adventures. Sally and Julie were especially interested to know which ones I really liked and who I thought I might get serious with and were invariably disappointed when I didn't develop a relationship. I figured that sooner or later they'd try and take a more active hand in getting me fixed up in a long term relationship, so I wasn't particularly surprised when I came over to watch the Super Bowl to find, in addition to the 2 other couples, a pretty gal about my age who just happened to be there to watch the game, but was, quite clearly, my date for the evening. Her name was Leanne. She had strawberry blonde hair that she'd pulled back into a pony tail, accentuating a cute round face that featured a little upturned nose and was sprinkled with a few freckles. She was smallish, probably a full foot shorter than me, and she had a slim figure, but with exactly the right amount of curves in the important places. She had a lazy, toothy smile and was very easy to talk to. It didn't take long before I realized that she either really liked football a lot or she'd been coached very well by Bill and Greg because she said the right thing at the right times. That made it super easy to start a conversation and it didn't take long before we were talking, arguing and joking about what was happening on the field. But, by the end of the game, the conversation topics had drifted beyond football and we talked about work and ourselves and life in general. She was a nurse that had grown up in the area and was working at a local hospital where she met and become friends with Julie, who was also a nurse. To my surprise, I also learned that she had a boyfriend, a guy named Danny, who was one of the number crunchers at the hospital and was out of town for the weekend. From what she said, I gathered that they'd been in a pretty serious relationship for some time and had been essentially engaged, but, for a variety of reasons they'd both decided it would a good idea to step back and reassess. She talked about him in a clinical, almost dispassionate way, as if she was trying to avoid saying anything that might make her emotional and embarrass her. So, since her relationship was no longer strictly exclusive and she was feeling a little lonely on Super Bowl Sunday, Julie had invited her over. This news, of course, took me somewhat by surprise, because I figured Julie and Sally to try and set me up with highly available women. When she left after the game, the women started the inevitable questioning about what I thought and if I'd ask her out again and so I brought the fact that she had a boyfriend up. Julie tried to explain. "Well, like Leanne said, they were pretty serious for a while, but they aren't now, and they are both seeing other people from time to time. " "But, she still has a boyfriend and she made it pretty clear that they nearly got married." "There's a very big difference from nearly married and married." Sally replied flatly. "How about almost married and completely available? That's a pretty big difference too." I shot back. Julie scoffed. "Come on, she isn't 'almost married' now. That was months ago. And, frankly, I think that ship has sailed." "How can you know that? I mean if it was over, she would have said that. And, honestly, I really don't want to get super involved with a girl who is one step in or out of a committed relationship. It seems like a bad idea to me." Julie raised an eyebrow. "You looked like you had a good time. It couldn't have been that bad of an idea." "I had a great time, absolutely, but that's part of the problem." I thought for a moment and then continued, trying to be careful not to hurt their feelings too much with what I was going to say. "I just really don't want to get burned right now. Seriously, I really appreciate you trying to set me up like this, but I just don't get why you thought this would be a good idea for me. " Julie had a thoughtful, somewhat surprised look about her. "We weren't setting you up." I laughed. "Oh come on. 3 couples. A big introduction. No place to sit except beside her. Don't try and BS me; that was a clear set up. " "Again, Matt, we weren't setting you up." Julie paused and looked at me closely. "We were setting her up." "Huh?" I answered as eloquently as possible. Julie smiled. "Look Matt, for a couple of months now, you've been doing just fine getting dates and I'm pretty sure it won't be long until the right girl comes along for something more serious. You don't need our help. She, on the other hand, needs a really good guy." She paused again, looking uncertain as to whether she should continue. "Matt, the truth is that her relationship with Danny has gotten more than a little toxic, but she just can't seem to let it go. She needs someone like you to help pry her out." I was stunned by what Julie had just said. I still felt like a new colt trying to find its legs in the dating world, so the idea that Julie and Sally thought I was doing great caught me by surprise. Additionally, given my recent experiences, I didn't like the idea of playing 'the other man' to a woman who wasn't quite out of her relationship yet. Did I really want to help 'pry' any girl away from another guy? Did I want to be a watered-down version of that asshole Palmer? It would have been an easy decision if I hadn't had a very good time with her, but, I did and I couldn't shake the thought that, other than the boyfriend thing, she seemed to have everything I wanted. So, I ended up bouncing the 'call her or not call her' ball back and forth in my mind the rest of the night and the whole next day at work. By Monday night, I figured it couldn't hurt if I'd cautiously reach out just to see what would happen. It took a little bit to build up the courage, but I eventually gave her a call to ask her out the following Friday night for dinner and maybe some dancing. She seemed happy to hear from me, but put on a disappointed tone when I asked about Friday, saying that she already had plans. I figured this was the brush off and started trying to back out of the conversation gracefully, but she quickly followed up by saying she was free on Saturday and hoped that would be ok. It was. I wanted to get to know her and figured that it would be best if we had plenty of opportunity to talk, so I took her to a nice quiet Italian restaurant. It was great. She loved the food and we spent so much time talking we essentially closed out the place. I'd promised some dancing, but by then it was so late that we ended up getting some hot chocolate and took a chilly walk along the downtown lakeshore. We stopped for a minute under a streetlamp at one of the small parks, talking and looking out at the water. The snow was falling gently and settling on her hair, her cheeks looked rouged with the cold and her frozen breath came out from her pink lips in lazy little puffs as she talked. At that moment, I felt like I was in some sort of a fantastical snow globe, part of a winter paradise in the company of an angel. Her breath and her voice and the atmosphere gradually led my eyes to lock onto her moving lips, and when I couldn't stop staring she smiled and cocked her head slightly in anticipation. Leaning over, I kissed her gently, and then more deeply and gradually wrapped my arms around her while she took hold of me. The cold and the public setting limited how long we kissed, but the effect was deep and dramatic. The kiss wasn't and couldn't be a prelude to some sort of sexual encounter, but it was powerful in what it seemed to say, a reflection of a growing emotion I felt for her and what she might be starting to feel for me. Holding hands we moved along the lakeshore for a while more, talking a little more shyly, walking a little more slowly and a little closer together. For me, the evening had been nearly perfect, but eventually it had to end, and I took her back to her apartment. I'd promised myself that with her situation with Danny, I wouldn't pressure her for anything more than a good night kiss, so, when she didn't invite me in I was maybe a little disappointed, but I didn't push. We left with a kiss and a promise to go out again when she was available. I knew I'd have to work around Danny, but I suddenly didn't mind having to share a girl, at least for a little while. I texted her off and on during the week and even talked a couple of times on the phone. She had plans again for Friday but said she could clear her schedule for another Saturday date. It also turned out that the only thing that disappointed her about our first date was that we'd missed the chance to go dancing, so I made sure to arrange for that to happen. Our dancing date started more or less where we'd left off from the week before. We sat and talked through about half of the faster songs but almost never missed a slow one, dancing closely and so comfortably that it seemed like we'd been together for a long, long time. Gold for Plastic Ch. 02 But as good as it made me feel to be with her, I was struck that I'd felt this way before and found it more than a little disturbing that if I really fell in love with her, I'd be extremely vulnerable to more heartbreak. I wanted to be with her, but I had to protect myself. I had admonished myself that I couldn't surrender to my feelings and to her until I was sure she'd give herself over to me.. I wouldn't expose my freshly healed wounds to another emotional trauma. When I took her home, she invited me in for some coffee, and we talked for a half hour or so before we started to kiss. After necking for a few minutes, things started getting very, very warm. The kisses became more desperate and I found myself running my hands over her butt, pulling her closer to me. That led to a hand slipping under her shirt and then under her bra to feel her full breast, soft and smooth with a hardening nipple at the center. She was breathing very heavy at that point and one of her hands had slipped to my crotch, pushing and rubbing me through my pants and now my self-made promises to go slow were being overwhelmed by my desire for her. My hand slipped from her breast to the waist of her pants and below, finding the edge of her panties and then a small tuft of hair and then soft, pliable, spongy wet folds. As I cupped my hand around her sex, I looked in her eyes and saw that she wanted me and that she would put up no effort to stop me. But I also saw just a hint of fear, a slight worry and I was suddenly reminded that I was entering very dangerous territory. Despite my pounding heart and poorly controlled lust, I abruptly pulled my hand out of her pants and leaned back away from her. "Leanne, I...maybe I better go." Her look was a strange combination of disappointment and relief. "Why Matt? Is something wrong? " "Look, I don't think I can really keep myself under control and things are....things are going fast here. Faster than they should. I think, maybe.....we should slow down." Her slow, lazy smile spread across her face and then she laughed. "Isn't that the line the girl is supposed to use? Are we playing a role reversal game? Should I tell you it will be ok and I'll respect you in the morning?" That made me laugh. "I guess most guys don't turn this sort of thing down very often, do they?' She kept smiling. "Not unless they're gay. You're not gay are you Matt?" She laughed again. "No Leanne, I'm not gay and I think the tent in my pants should be exhibit number one against that idea." I was smiling, but I could tell she wanted some sort of explanation, some idea of where I was coming from. I bit my lip, trying to find the right words to explain my situation. "Here's the problem for me. I don't think that I'm....." I couldn't think of how to finish, so she tried to help. "You don't think you're ready to have sex yet after your divorce? Is that it Matt?" "No, no, I've had a lot of sex, that's not it at all..." I stopped suddenly because she was frowning and I'd obviously said exactly the wrong thing. I started to sputter a little to try and correct my mistake. "Wait, that didn't come out right. What I meant to say is I've had sex with a few girls, recreational sex, meaningless sex, since I started dating. And....and, I don't think I can do that with you. I can't have casual sex with you because my feelings aren't....they aren't casual." I was beet red both with embarrassment from the clumsy way I'd described my recent sexual activity and how I'd further revealed how I felt about her. I looked at her earnestly, hoping she could grasp what I was trying to say, hoping I wouldn't have to say more. She stopped frowning, but still had a puzzled look about her. "Are you afraid of having a relationship with me? Of having something that's not casual? Is that it?" I shook my head slowly; she still wasn't quite getting it. "That's not really it, no. It' tough to get across what I'm feeling." I was talking deliberately now, choosing my words carefully. "I really want to be with you, in every way and all the time. I want that desperately, but I know, because of your situation with....with Danny, that can't happen right now. I understand that. I do. But the way I feel about you, sex with you would be....would signal a....a commitment on my part. I wouldn't, I can't make love with you casually. It has to be in the context of a commitment. It could only happen if I could commit myself to you and that can only happen if you get to a place where you could commit yourself to me. Does that make sense? Do you understand what I'm driving at?" Now she smiled, broadly, genuinely. She put her hands on the sides of my face, pulled me to her and gave me a long, romantic kiss. "I understand, I think, Matt. Sex with me would be an expression of love and a promise of.....fidelity. And you can't do that right now, because I can't make that promise. Is that it?" I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief. "That's it Leanne. That's it exactly." Over the next few months I saw Leanne as much as I could, working my time in around her days and nights with Danny. We had a lot of fun and we were getting closer. In the back of my mind, I knew I was playing with emotional fire, risking another heartbreak, but I was also happier than I'd been in a long, long time. Maybe the smart play would have been to back off until she was through with Danny, but, at that point, I couldn't bring myself to even consider that option. Things were fine until July when a 3 day weekend that included the 4th was coming up. We hadn't made any official plans, but we'd talked and I had assumed we'd get together again. I'd called her a couple of times during the week just to talk and had agreed we'd play the coming weekend by ear. But, on Friday afternoon, I gave her a call to find out what time I could pick her up and I could tell right away that our plans to get together were in trouble. She hesitated a lot when I asked what she felt like doing and it was obvious she had some bad news that she didn't want to break. When she finally came out with it, I felt like I'd been kicked in the gut. Danny had surprised her the night before with an invitation to go to Vegas. They were leaving for the weekend right after work and wouldn't be back until late Monday night. She tried to be reassuring and I tried to be gracious, but I'm sure a little bitterness came through. How can you not be at least a little unpleasant when the woman you're falling in love with announces she's going on vacation for a few days with another guy? It was a bad weekend for me and I tried to make the time pass by hanging out with friends, but mostly I was an emotional zombie and it seemed, for the most part, like my life was simply unraveling again. I felt alone and abandoned and with a sense that it wouldn't get better, imagining what they were doing, gambling, having dinner, walking hand in hand, having sex, getting closer. The images I was conjuring were eating away at me and turning my dark mood midnight black. On Saturday night, I had a dream. I was in a hotel in Las Vegas, walking down a hallway, identical to the one in Gabriel's mansion, with rooms on either side. I'd opened several doors, looking for Leanne, but hadn't been able to find her. As I approached a final door, I could hear the sounds of sex, moaning, murmuring, gentle slurping noises, and with a trembling hand, turned the knob and went in. I was struck by a vision that I'd seen before. A woman, her sweaty back to me, astride a man, smoothly and enthusiastically riding him, her hair wildly draping his face as she bent down to kiss him. The lights went on and she rolled off him. It was Leanne, and she was riding Danny, but he looked like Palmer. She smiled at me and laughed. "Sorry Matt, but you're just not enough to take care of a woman by yourself." She turned back to Danny, my heart exploded and I woke up in a start, sweating and breathing like a panting dog in summer. Sunday morning, staring at the ceiling in my bedroom, I realized reluctantly, that chasing Leanne was now making me almost as miserable as I had been at the time of my divorce. I had to stop the bleeding and move on. I couldn't afford the emotional price I knew that I'd pay if I allowed myself to fall completely in love with a woman, only to lose her to another man again. If I couldn't control how she felt or acted, at least I could control how I did. I had to put a tourniquet on the relationship. She called me late Monday night when she got back, but I didn't answer then or when she called a couple of times on Tuesday. I suppose I was being a coward, because I didn't want to tell her of my decision, but I made myself talk to her on Wednesday. "Hey, Matt, I've been trying to get a hold of you. Is everything ok?" I was cautious and circumspect in my answers. "Yea, everything's fine. How was Vegas?" She didn't answer right away, and I suspected she was formulating the appropriate reply, something truthful that wouldn't hurt me too much. "It was fun. Some gambling, dinner. Caught a couple of shows, that sort of thing. Not the greatest time of year to go to Vegas, though. It was really hot." The conversation continued on, but I wasn't being very talkative. I think she was waiting for something, maybe an invitation to see her, but I wasn't offering. Finally she asked when we could meet up for a date or just to spend some time together. I took in a deep breath. "Well Leanne, I don't know. I think maybe it would be a good idea if we stepped back some. Maybe gave each other some room." I heard her gasp quietly over the phone. Her voice was trembling a little. "Why Matt?" "Leanne, look, I guess I don't feel comfortable continuing on like we have been. I had a really shitty weekend and the truth is I just don't think I can take a lot of that sort of thing at this point in my life. I've had a lot of heartache over the last few years and I can do without it." I heard sniffles and a little cough. "I see. So, are you just mad at me for going to Vegas? I'm sorry it was last minute; I didn't know what to do. Danny had already bought the tickets and I...." "Leanne, it's not really just about you going away for the weekend." I interrupted. "It's that the trip finally brought the reality of your relationship with Danny into sharp focus for me. I guess....I guess I've been kidding myself, ignoring the fact that you have a pretty intense relationship with another guy; intense enough to fly away for a weekend vacation. And now, now I'm not....kidding myself." I went on. "I guess I thought you were in a relationship that was dying out, something that was casual enough that I could live with. But thinking back over the last few weeks and about the trip I can see that just isn't the case. I can see that the two of you are making a pretty strong effort to try and move forward. Which is fine, it's great, I'm in no position to complain since....since I knew about it when we started going out and I went into it with both eyes open. You didn't hide anything or cheat. But, still, I guess I maybe got the wrong idea and I'm finding that being the 'other guy' isn't really good for me right now, so I have to back off. Think about it Leanne, this will probably will be good for you too. You won't have to juggle your schedules or make excuses and I won't be some sort of obstacle in the way of you and Danny." She'd been listening to me, letting me talk, breathing raggedly in a way that sounded like she was trying to suppress a sob. Finally, when I stopped she said. "Is that what you think? That you're some sort of obstacle? That you were just some 'other guy' that I was using for fun or something? When we were together what did I do to give you that impression? " "I don't know Leanne. I don't know what you think of me or us. So, tell me, please, what exactly am I to you? Because, honestly, I can't figure it out." She started to cry. "I was trying to find out Matt. I...I...thought we were trying to find out what we were. What we could become." My heart went out to her because she sounded so distressed, but I reminded myself of what this conversation was supposed to be about and so I restated my case. "Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk, or give some sort of ultimatum or make you feel bad, but I can't keep doing this right now. Like I said, I think it would be best for both of us to simplify what's going on and, realistically, that means you and I have to back off each other. If we do, I won't hurt so much and you won't have to work around me while you try to sort things out with Danny." Leanne sniffled some more. "I guess I didn't know you were hurting that bad, Matt." "I was." I said. "I am." I thought as I said goodbye and hung up the phone. The next few weeks I did my best to get buried in work. I'd gotten another fairly significant assignment that was requiring a lot of time and concentration and I was grateful for the distraction. It helped the days pass a little more smoothly and, getting home late, made the nights a little shorter. On weekends, I sought out my friends to hang out with and tried not to be Mr. Gloomy. Julie and Sally were pretty sympathetic, although they gave me a hard time at first. Julie seemed to think I shouldn't think about giving up, that if I waited, her relationship with Danny would almost certainly crater and we'd eventually be great for each other. I expressed my doubts that she'd be getting over Danny soon, or ever. I made it pretty clear that staying away was pretty tough on me and that I had no hard feelings for her but I just couldn't pay the emotional price to keep pursuing her. I remember Julie saying "the price of regret is pretty high too" under her breath. So there it was again. Lonely at night, hurting, thinking about a woman I cared deeply about who was spending her time with another man, trying to salve the pain by working hard and pretending that rooting for my favorite baseball team and playing video games was enough to keep me happy when I was home. I was miserable. One night, around a month into this, I was woken out of a dead sleep by the sound of my cell phone going off. I looked at the clock, saw that it was 2a.m. and rolled over without answering. But, I started obsessing that, at that hour, it might be something really critical, maybe my Mom or Dad was sick or something, and so picked up the phone and saw I had a text. It was from Leanne and it was a very simple message. "I really miss you." I must have looked at the words for 20 minutes, thinking about her, wondering what she was doing and why she texted me now, in the middle of the night. I imagined that she was having a rough night and that she must be really in need of a friend. Suddenly this self-imposed exile didn't make a lot of sense to me. I was lonely and unhappy and obsessed with her, and she wanted to be with me enough to send that text at that hour. She hadn't betrayed me; she just couldn't give me the reassurance that I needed as I allowed myself to become more attached to her. I texted her back. "I miss you too." The next day, I gave her a call and, after a few awkward moments, we were talking as if nothing had happened. We talked and texted off and on during the week and I finally asked her out to dinner. That led to more dates and more time together and it wasn't long before we were spending several nights a week with each other. She was still seeing Danny, but her dates with him were becoming very sporadic and she actually cancelled on him a couple of times to be with me. By now it was mid-September and we had a Friday night date for dinner and a last outdoor concert before the summer completely died. After the concert, we walked through the park, holding hands, talking, laughing and kissing. Sometime around midnight, we went to an all-night coffee shop and had desert, holding hands across the table, unable to take our eyes off each other, the conversation never lagging, even for a moment. Eventually it got so late that the date had to end, but neither of us wanted say goodnight. I desperately wanted to take her home, but knew if I did we'd almost certainly fall into bed together and, without a firm commitment from her to be exclusive, I felt it would still be a mistake to make myself too vulnerable. She was disappointed when I told her I'd better take her home, but she made me swear that we'd see each other later in the day, since it was already early Saturday morning. It wasn't a hard promise to make. Leanne took the earliest possible opportunity to cash in on my promise by showing up unexpectedly around 8 in the morning, laughing at me as I answered the door in an old robe, unshaven and with bed head, announcing that she was going to start the day right. She said she wanted to show off her cooking skills and, while I showered and shaved, she made a couple of omelets and some hash browns. We had an animated talk over breakfast and argued playfully about what we should do that morning. Ultimately we decided to visit the planetarium and spent the morning and part of the afternoon watching presentations about the stars and the planets. Around mid-day, we grabbed a small lunch at a nearby sandwich shop and then took a little walk in a neighborhood park. The conversation there lagged a bit and, in the quiet, I saw Leanne bite her lip, thinking about something she evidently wanted to say. Her hesitation worried me, because I didn't want to hear anything difficult. "Matt, I need to tell you something." She started. "Do I want to hear this?" I choked out. She looked thoughtful. "Some of it, probably not. But I think I need to tell you about....about..." She stopped, evidently trying to find the right words; my heart was going a million miles an hour. She started again. "Look Matt, you never asked about what I was doing with Danny on our dates, you know, physically. And I appreciate that, it was polite and talking about it would have been--actually is-- pretty uncomfortable. But, I want you to know that....that we didn't sleep together very often. Maybe once or twice a month, at most, since you and I have been seeing each other." Hearing her talk about sleeping with Danny, even if it was infrequent, hurt, but I was breathing easier now. I didn't want to hear about her having sex with Danny, but what she was saying was a lot easier to hear than what I was most worried about--that she'd decided to be with Danny exclusively. She was looking right at me now, her eyes meeting mine. "The other thing is, that, the last couple of times, even before Vegas, I really felt like....like I was cheating. Like I shouldn't be in bed with him, that I shouldn't do that to you. That night...the night I texted you, Danny had come on pretty strong and I just couldn't do it, I had to say no. He got a little mad and I asked him to leave and he did, but he was pretty upset. All I could think about was how I really wanted you there to hold me and make it better. I wanted to be with you and, even if I couldn't, I wasn't going to cheat on you." I was breathing easier now. Her 'confession' was a relief to me and, like magic, my mood had brightened, I was smiling and was actually feeling a little giddy. "Matt, one other thing, and I know it's none of my business...." She stopped, biting her lower lip in uncertainty, looking, somehow, like she wanted me to rescue her or something. Stupidly, though, I had no idea what she was trying to say. "What?" is all I could get out. She turned red and continued. "I know you had a lot of....girlfriends before me and I wanted to know if, well since we've been going out, have you....." I got it now, but the impishly mean part of me wanted her to squirm just a little, she was cute when she squirmed. Gold for Plastic Ch. 02 "Have I what?" I asked, trying, but failing, to keep a straight face. I found myself smirking, barely able to keep from laughing. She could see I was messing with her and she struck me playfully on the shoulder. "I can't believe you are going to make me ask you." She raised her eyebrows and her eyes bore into mine. "OK, Matt, have you been having a lot of sex?" Waiting for the answer, her face softened into a mixture of embarrassment, hope, fear and maybe curiosity. "Oh, yea, I guess I say I have been. Quite a bit really." Her face clouded over and I quickly added, "Of course I've been alone every time." I made a show of looking at my right hand while I flexed it open and closed a couple of times. A look of recognition and relief washed over her face and she laughed a little. She grabbed my right hand and while looking at it said "I guess I should be pretty jealous of you, since you've had my Matt pretty much too yourself." I sucked in my breath and put on a face mocking discomfort, feigning I had something difficult to say. "Leanne, it's not just my right hand. I....I don't know how to say this but I've....I've been with my left hand too. I'm so sorry. I just couldn't help myself...." She laughed again, put her arms around me and, kissing me gently after each word said "From....now.....on....your....hands....will.....be....for.....touching.....me.....and....not....for....you." She ended with a long, sensuous French kiss. I wanted to say something incredibly erotic and romantic. I wanted to impress her with my depth of feeling and give her something to remember forever. I wanted to be Keats and Don Juan and Cyrano de Bergerac all rolled into one. But, at that moment, all I could think to say was "How about we go back to my place?" She was breathing hard still, looking at me with bedroom eyes and holding me like she wouldn't let me go, but then she said something I didn't expect at all. "Uhm....how about if I meet you there in a couple of hours. I have to take care of something first." I was more than a little surprised and more than a little deflated. I asked what she had to do, where she was going, why she couldn't do it later; but she was evasive, and given my recent track record, I was more than a little worried. We walked to my car and I drove her to her place. She ran to her own car, got in and took off without going in to her apartment, driving like she was shot out of a gun. Her sudden departure left me thinking a million miles an hour. Naturally I imagined that she had something going on that was more important than being with me and I felt pretty crappy about it. I'd gone from being sure that she wanted to be with me to being not so sure about anything in about 10 minutes. I drove home, grabbed a beer, flung myself on the couch and started watching some old movie. Two more beers, a ham sandwich, another old movie later and I was getting pretty convinced I'd be spending another night alone when, suddenly, my front door opened with a bang. It was so loud and unexpected that I jumped up off the couch, thinking it was the cops or maybe something worse. Leanne burst into the living room, threw her arms around me and kissed me aggressively. "Missed you." She said and started rummaging through her purse, eventually pulling out a giant pack of condoms which she threw on the coffee table and kissed me again. "That's a lot of condoms." I mumbled, with my lips still smashed against hers. She pulled back a little and reddened. "Uh, I didn't want to take the chance that....you wanted to use them and that...um....you were out, so I picked some up." "So, uh, you took 3 hours to buy condoms? Is that what you've been doing?" She looked at my chest, grabbed my shirt and started slowly undoing the buttons as she talked. "No. I went to see Danny." She looked up at my face when she said that, undoubtedly seeing a look of extreme consternation. "It's not what you might think. I had to.....I had to tell him that it's over. We've been together a long time Matt and I didn't want to do it on the phone, he deserved a face to face talk. It would have been cowardly otherwise." I was relieved but still puzzled. "You had to do it tonight?" "Yes Matt, I did. And I did it for you, for us." She was finishing taking off my shirt, staring intently at me, her mouth inches away from mine, her breath mixing with mine as she talked. "Remember you told me you couldn't have recreational sex with me? That you felt too strongly to do that and that you wanted sex to reflect a commitment? To reflect fidelity? Exclusiveness?" I nodded. "Well, it will. It's going to. And I had to end it with Danny officially to make it so." My shirt was off and she was kissing down my chest. Between her kisses and the rushed explanation that carried some life changing implications about our relationship, I was having trouble thinking. "So...uh....this will mean that....." I couldn't get anything else out. "This will mean that I intend you to be the last man I make love with." She looked up at me and raised her eyebrows. "And it sure as hell better mean I will be the last woman you are with." By now my pants were half way down my legs and she was pulling on my erection with long, sensual, luxurious stokes, my own secretions wetting her hand. All I could do was smile, nod stupidly and reach for her blouse. Within a few minutes we were in bed, naked, kissing and rubbing each other with a sort of desperate desire and anxiousness. I kissed down her neck, her breasts, her belly, down her thighs and all the way to her feet and then started back up again, stopping at her crotch where I spent some time blowing and licking and kissing. Finally I pressed my mouth against her and began to use my tongue and my lips, gently at first and harder and harder until she pressed herself back against my mouth, hard enough I thought she might bruise my lips. As she pushed against my mouth I slipped two fingers inside of her, curled them forward and began to rub against the soft spongy wall, keeping my mouth busy against her outer hardness. It wasn't long before she moaned and then very nearly screamed and her hips bucked against my face like a rodeo horse. I kept my mouth against her until her hips slowed and then stopped and I crawled up to even my face with hers, kissing her cheeks and her neck and her shoulders, avoiding her mouth in case she didn't want to taste herself. She'd have none of it and she pulled my face to her and we began kissing deeply again. I needed her then more than I needed anything ever in my life and I began to slowly push myself into her. She responded by moving her legs farther apart and then wrapping them around me and we began to rock into each other, slowly and then with more speed and conviction. We had as much sweat slicked skin touching as possible, her legs around my back, our chests and bellies pressed against each other, my forearms resting on hers with our hands interlocked and resting above our heads, all while we continued to kiss. This wasn't the kind of sex people have for fun, we were doing what lovers do, what a couple that has shut out the entire outside world does when they only want to be with one person, when they very nearly want to be the only thing in the world at all. I wanted it to last forever, but when she arched her back again and started to scream in my mouth, I had to release myself in her. We lay there, panting, kissing, smiling, and giggling over small talk, whispering faint 'I love yous' for some time. And then we did it twice more, each time nearly as satisfying as the first and stayed and slept in the bed until late Sunday morning when we did it again. We never used the condoms. Over the next couple of days, Leanne moved into the duplex with me. She hung her clothes where Megan's used to be and her makeup and shoes . We ate together, watched TV together, showered together and slept together. It felt every bit like a marriage to me and, after a couple of months of this, I didn't see the point of not making it official. I asked her to marry me in the same Italian restaurant we went out to on our first date and she responded by lunging across the table to throw her arms around me, spilling water across the tablecloth and getting red sauce on her blouse. For Thanksgiving, we went to her folk's house so they could meet me. They'd evidently been a little concerned that Leanne was jumping too quickly into a rebound relationship and they had also worried some about my divorce. They stopped worrying when they saw us together and after Leanne explained, in private, the circumstances of my divorce. I was nervous, but I think I made a fairly good impression and by the end of the weekend her family was treating me like an old friend with her parents already asking about our plans for children. Leanne and I didn't see the need for a long engagement and we got married in a pretty little country chapel on a crisp, snowy, February Saturday. It was a small, intimate wedding, attended by family and a few close friends. I had a tough time deciding on a best man, so Bill and Greg split the duties while Leanne's sister was the maid of honor. Both Julie and Sally were bridesmaids and, true to form, they'd practically taken over the preparation of the wedding, sweating the details that neither Leanne or I were particularly interested in. We flew to St. Thomas the day after our wedding and spent a very relaxing and memorable honeymoon there. We had such a good time that we promised each other we'd go back, maybe for our 10th anniversary. Over the next couple of years, Leanne and I saved our money and eventually bought a house. It was a 4 bedroom fixer-upper with a nice porch and a sizeable yard with trees and a flower bed. On the day of the closing, Leanne announced she was pregnant and by the time we'd redone the inside of the house, we had a new baby boy to occupy the freshly painted nursery. Our lives changed with the birth of Tommy, but I couldn't be happier. We were becoming the family I had always wanted. Not long after Tommy was born, there was a shooting at Gabriel's. It turned out that some guy's wife had gotten into the scene with one of Gabriel's friends and he didn't take it quite as phlegmatically as I had. He got a gun and, after shooting Jordy in the leg, marched through the house until he found his wife and her lover, both of whom he plugged before turning the gun on himself. I guess his wife lived and Jordy was ok, but the shooter and the lover both died. The trial was full of salacious details and, as you'd expect, became big news, even making headlines on the national broadcasts. I guess the Putnam family didn't care much for the publicity and they gave Gabriel an ultimatum, eventually making him sell the mansion and essentially exiling him back to the family compound in Ohio. Around the time of the trial, I was at a party at Bill's house and I recognized Charles Taylor with his wife. I went over to say hi and he remembered me. We made some small talk and he seemed genuinely happy with the way things turned out for me. As I was about to step away, he smiled and asked what I thought about Palmer. "Honestly haven't thought about him for a while. What do you mean?" "Ah....well, I guess you haven't heard, but he got divorced." "His wife finally dump him for cheating?" "No, that's the funny thing. They had this....uh....open marriage and I guess she ultimately got tired of Palmer and fell in love with one of her boyfriends. Anyway, she had an iron-clad prenup so Palmer was SOL when she dumped him." "So, what happened then? Did he and Megan....." "No, I don't think so." He interrupted. "He had to leave town to find some work and I'm pretty sure he left alone. Turns out he has zero skill as a lawyer, which should surprise no-one. I think he's working a 9-5 job at his brother's hardware store in Pittsburgh. Kind of funny, huh?" "Yeh, I guess it is. A bit of a step down, huh?" Taylor laughed and gave me a wink. I was reminded what he'd said to me in his office the day of my divorce, and realized how right he was. Things didn't work out for my one-time rival and Megan and, while it was of interest, but I didn't need to know that to be happy. I had a family to care for and to love and that was really all that mattered to me. I did see Megan again one last time around 3 years later. It was at a nursery and I was with my boy, who was sitting in a cart while I looked through some flowering plants. Leanne, who was around 7 months pregnant with our second child, was checking out some trees on the other side of the nursery. As I pushed the cart down a row of Lavender, Megan was on the far side of the aisle, browsing, holding a basket with some herbs. She hadn't changed that much, maybe put on a little weight, but really about the same. I saw her first, or at least I think I did, and called out to her. She looked up at me and smiled while I approached, pushing my cart. "Hey Matt. Wow, it's been a long time. How are you?" Her smile quivered just a little as she looked at me, making her look more vulnerable than I ever remember seeing her. I smiled back, told her she looked great and said things were fine with me. She nodded and then turned and smiled at Tommy. "And who's this little guy?" "This is my son Tommy. Tommy, can you say hi?" As usual he became a little shy and very quietly mumbled something that could be taken as a greeting. "He's a cute little boy." She said smiling. "So, how are you Matt? What are you up to?" We started talking a little about gardening and then caught up on how life was generally going. She was still at the same job making pretty much the same salary. She wasn't seeing anyone seriously and hadn't been for some time. I wasn't absolutely sure, but based on how she said things, I got the impression that her relationship with Palmer ended long before he had to leave town. She mentioned that Theresa had married Stuart, but I guess mutual commitment didn't quite work out for them and they got divorced within a year. After that Theresa moved in with Megan but they eventually stopped getting along, and she moved out after a few months. So now, Megan was living alone in a small, downtown apartment without much green space. She said she was shopping for herbs to put in a small window box and was jealous of the big garden I was planting. As we finished talking, Leanne showed up and I introduced her. We chatted for a couple of more minutes and then we said goodbye and Leanne and I checked out and left for the car. But, as usual, Leanne forgot something and ran back into the store while I pulled the car up to the exit. A couple of minutes later, Leanne emerged and seemed a little bothered. I asked if she was upset, but she quickly put on a smile and shook her head no, claiming she was just trying to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything else. We went home and spent a typical spring day gardening and goofing off. Ultimately Tommy and Leanne and I ended up on our porch swing, drinking lemonade, smelling the lilacs and listening to the sounds of the neighborhood. Leanne broke the silence. "So, what did you and Megan talk about before I got there?" "Nothing really, just gardening and stuff. I really didn't have all that much to say. It was a little awkward, really." "You didn't say anything mean?" "Of course not. Why would you ask that?" I was puzzled. "Because, when I went back into the store, she was standing in the same aisle crying her eyes out. I had to sneak around her so she wouldn't see me. She seemed really upset." I shrugged my shoulders in reply as I didn't know what to make of this. But as I thought on it, I remembered all the plans Megan and I had made when we got married. The plans to have a house with a garden and trees, to have an unbreakable relationship and to have a close, loving family and I thought maybe I understood why our conversation was so upsetting. I remembered what Charles Taylor had told me years before about 'moving on' to the point that I wouldn't care whether Megan would regret her choices. I had eventually taken the advice and it had served me well, but it wasn't completely accurate that I didn't care at all about how things had turned out for her. I had moved on and loved my life with my wife and my son and my home. But as I looked out from my porch to my front lawn, my arm around Leanne, Tommy in my lap and the smell of lilacs wafting through the air, I realized what Megan was missing and had an inkling that she knew what she was missing too. I guess a truly caring and benevolent person wouldn't take any pleasure in the misfortune of another, but I couldn't help it. Megan had traded gold for plastic, throwing her dreams away for some short term excitement and hadn't been able to get them back. I pulled Leanne closer to me and smiled.