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Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 01

By: Tx Tall Tales



Follow up to Nici's cheating wife story.

This is part one of a two part finish.

I, like most it would seem, have a lot of issues with the original story. The author says that husband and wife are both to blame, and that's her right. The story she wrote says otherwise. The woman was a polygamist, with two families, and didn't care what she did to the first. She abandoned her family, and the wimpy husband sucked it up, and allowed her back in, with everything she wanted except for him.

In her opening comments, she says she's writing about a real-life couple. Not the 'wackos' who are so prevalent in other 'Loving Wives' sagas. How she can see Susan as a 'normal' cheater is beyond me. Saying she wants to have two loves in her life, but he can't. If she doesn't give her what she wants, she'll make him pay, make him suffer. Such love. Sick.

My version of the ending takes into account some things hers never did. Everyone else. Parents, grandparents, children, friends, siblings, co-workers, neighbors, strangers. She wanted her affair hidden, and wanted it to stay that way. I say 'out' the bitch. It starts at the end of Nici's first story, before Jonathan totally wimps out in chapters 2 and 3.

I tried to stay true to the author's characters, including the information from her second and third chapters. I don't know how successful I was, I find it very difficult to understand and empathize with Susan. Maybe it's because I'm a man. My apologies in case she seems too different. There are no murders, no beatings, no violence, but there is a death. There is revenge, but I leave a tiny opening for possible future reconciliation. So shoot me.

I never expected the story to get this long. My BTB first response would be more along the lines of:

She left. Got his Tokarev out of the basement. Loaded the chamber full of 7.62x25mm. Checked the newspaper archives for the accident two years ago. Got a name. Found an address. Burned the house to the ground. Drove over. Caught them in bed. Put four rounds into each of them. Through the bastard's heart. Through her knees and hands. Drove off. Crossed the border into Mexico before dawn. Started a new life. Sent the kids birthday and Christmas cards. The end.

This version might be a little crueler, though less violent.

==================================

Jonathan woke with the mother of all headaches.

His marriage was over. His wife was gone, sleeping in the arms of another man, as she had been doing for over a year.

He made it to the bathroom, and climbed under the shower, letting the cold water wake him, until it got warm enough for comfort. He washed, dried off and stood in front of the mirror, appraising himself.

She was at least partially right. His hair, cheaply cut at the barber, was thinning on top and bare on the crown. His belly was bigger than he'd like, wearing a size 42 waist, instead of the 34 he'd graduated with. He looked old and tired, like the middle-aged men he'd laughed at when he was young, sure he'd never let himself go like that. He lifted his arms, powerful still, not the arms of a middle-aged fat man. Manual labor took care of that.

The belly has got to go.

He turned his head, examining his hair from different angles. Searching under the sink, he found the old clippers from when he'd worn a beard for a few months. She'd never liked it, and he'd capitulated, shaving it.

Five minutes later, Jonathan had his razor out and he smiled at his own appearance, half a can of shaving cream making his head a white chia pet. He was new to this, and it took a couple of passes before he got it right. 

Better. Not good, but better.

Leaning closer to the mirror, he plucked two stray eyebrow hairs that seemed to have a mind of their own. The little cuticle scissors took care of the nostril hairs that unfortunately grew faster than those on the top of his head.

He was purposefully avoiding any thoughts about what to do about his situation. Would he take her back? Could he stand being married to a woman who had cast their marriage aside so cavalierly? Cuckolded him, for a year, confessed without guilt or remorse, then walked out to do it again? Forget her words; actions speak louder, and hers screamed.

There was no accepting that. None. Maybe a one-time accidental slip up. But an ongoing affair, with a man she claimed she loved? That she threw in his face, insisting that he accept it, or she'd destroy his life.

She wasn't perfect either. She was carrying at least 20 more pounds since the birth of their youngest. Thirty-four years old and her tits were already starting to sag. Her hair wasn't the full shining glorious mane it had once been. She now wore it short, claiming it was easier to take care of. Not that he had any say in the matter. She hadn't cared about his opinion in years. Two, to be precise.

Jonathan rubbed his chin and decided against shaving. He'd always liked his beard. No reason he couldn't wear one now. He examined his wardrobe, mostly older clothing since he didn't like to spend money on himself, when he could spend it on his family. He found the least reprehensible articles he owned, and dressed carefully to face the first day of the rest of his life.

He wasn't a wealthy lawyer or a CEO, not some tricky CPA or an ex-navy SEAL. He was a simple man, a diesel mechanic, but a man of action. As such, he drove down to the bank. It didn't take long to withdraw everything they had, not that it amounted to much. The overtime had helped, and they'd managed to accumulate nearly seven grand. Before the overtime started they'd been living little more than paycheck-to-paycheck. His annual bonuses and tax refunds were the only things that ever made improvements in their savings.

He walked across the street and opened a new bank account, putting a thousand dollars in it. They were happy to have his business, and he earned a new toaster oven for his effort.

The next order of business was harder. Jonathan walked into the Caterpillar dealership, and hand wrote his letter of resignation. His boss tried to talk him out of it, but Jonathan was determined. He explained the situation, that his wife was cheating on him, and had been for over a year. He was not about to pay for her life with her new lover. He left with an agreement that if things changed there'd be a place for him.

By the time he'd left, he received a final paycheck, including vacation time. He had changed his health insurance, taking his wife off of it, and cancelled his company life insurance. He could take out an independent policy protecting his children. Nothing for the slut. 

With the essentials taken care of, he headed home and started making calls. He cancelled their single credit card. It wasn't difficult, it had a small limit, and they couldn't afford to build up debt, so it was paid off each month.

Another call removed his wife from his cellular plan. Let her get her own. Maybe her boyfriend could pay for it.

He realized he'd missed breakfast and lunch, and was getting hungry. It had been a busy morning.

Looking in the refrigerator, he was struck by the thought that Susan might not have been happy with his beer gut, but she certainly didn't help. There was nothing healthy to eat in the refrigerator. Soda, snacks, cold cuts, bacon, instant dinners. Beer of course. No wonder both of them had put on the pounds. Jonathan scrambled up some eggs, and made a sandwich out of them. Not the healthiest meal ever, but about the best he could do.

The first steps complete, he was at a loss for what to do next. He had been reacting on instinct. Last night, his gut reaction was to get mad and get drunk, wallow in a little self-pity. The morning's reaction was to protect himself, and stop supporting her. Now we wasn't sure what to do. It had been too much to absorb, and his mind was spinning. His wife was a cheating slut, and his marriage was over.

He felt he couldn't handle this alone, and looking toward his family, he headed to his Grandfather's house. Given a choice of talking to his Grandpa Max, or his mother, he would choose the old man. His Mom was a woman, and at that moment, he was afraid she might take the whore's side, for the sake of the family and the kids. Grandpa was a straight-shooter, and would at least give him an honest opinion. 

The septuagenarian was surprised to see his grandson on his doorstep. "Jon? What's with the new look?"

Only Grandpa Max called him Jon. Jonathan self-consciously rubbed his smooth dome. "Grandpa, I need advice."

Grandpa Schritter was a throwback, son of German immigrants. His father had carved a ranch out of the wilderness, and Grandpa had expanded it. A no-nonsense man with few friends, those he had were loyal with similar values. Strict with his children, rules were to be followed, or there would be consequences. His mother still talked about the time she wore a skirt that showed part of her knees, and she was whipped to tears. You might call him old-fashioned. His honesty and values were a core part of the ranch's growth and success. In a time of slick-talking lawyers and 50 pages contracts, Max Schritter's bond was his handshake.

Uncle Len, the oldest, had taken over the ranch, and lived in the large rambler about 100 yards from the old homestead. Raised as he was, he maintained his family's legacy of hard work, fairness, honesty, and loyalty to friends.

It only took half an hour to get the story out. The old man had no patience for lying, deceit and trickery. Particularly not where family was involved. "How you going to get rid of her?" was his only question.

"It's not that simple. We have three kids."

"She's a cheating whore. You take the kids and throw her ass out."

Jonathan had to smile. If only it was that easy. "It doesn't work that way anymore, Grandpa. The mothers almost always get the kids, especially since she's the caregiver. She gets half of everything, probably a lot more than that. I'll have to pay child-care for three kids, and maintenance to take care of her, since she can't work."

"Won't work, you mean. Lazy ass cheating cunt."

Jonathan was taken aback by the old man's words. He rarely heard the ol' cuss swear. Not like that. Never in front of a woman or kids. Guess Jonathan was no longer a kid. "It's the law, Grandpa. I don't like it, but I suspect she's right about most of that. She figures she has me over a barrel and is gonna force me to take my medicine."

"I don't believe this stack of manure you're spreading." He got up and reached for his old phone. Rotary dialer, built like a tank. Jonathan knew the phone was older than he was.

"Bill? Max here. I need your expert opinion on something. How long before you can get your sorry ass off of that couch, and over here?"

His Grandfather hung up after the short answer. "What's the plan?"

"I want to get rid of the house. Can't afford it. I was hoping the kids and I could stay here. I'm not going to pay for her to live the good life with her son-of-a-bitch lover. Let her find somewhere to live." Jonathan knew they had no equity in the place, not after two years. It hit him. Two fucking years, the same time she started up with the asswipe. Buy her the house she's beggin' for, and she starts an affair. Yeah, she really loved him, didn't she?

His grandfather nodded. "No problem. Still have four empty rooms around here, filled with 50 years of junk. It'll be nice to have young blood around. Who's going to watch them while you're at work?"

"I'm not going to work. Let her get her child-support and alimony from an unemployed man."

"How you gonna get by?"

"I was kind of hoping Uncle Len would let me work on the ranch, under the table. I've got experience, spent enough summers sweating here. He can pay you, and you can make sure the kids don't do without. Maybe I could take a token salary to pay my expenses. I don't figure on needing much, car insurance, food, clothing."

His grandfather glared at him. "No token salary. A man lives under my roof, he works. We'll figure out a way to get around her gettin' any of your money. We'll have to see about some kind of caretaker for your kids."

Jonathan heard the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway, the thump-thump-thump of the big diesel easily heard indoors. He stood to get the door, but Bill Wesley, one of his Grandfather's oldest friends, walked in without knocking.

"What's got your damn panties in a bunch, Max?" the newcomer asked.

Another 20 minutes spent explaining the situation, before Bill had enough. "Mostly true. She's likely to get the kids, and sonny-boy will be expected to pay child-support, keep up the mortgage, and support her cheatin' ass as well. You said her lover gave her the advice? He's a lawyer?"

Jonathan nodded. 

"Big screw up there. That's not kosher. Could get him disbarred. What do you know about him?"

"Nothing. He's younger, and a divorce lawyer. That's all I've got. That and apparently his wife died in an accident a couple of years ago. He was driving."

"Shit. Can't be many of those around. Let me make a few calls, and see what I can find out." He sat back, apparently concentrating. "What have you done about finances?"

"Emptied the accounts. Quit my job."

"Good. A lot of these new panty-waist lawyers will tell you to only take half. Bullshit. She'll get half eventually, but don't make it easy on the slut. Make her fight for it. Stay in control. Why'd you quit the job?"

"I was working too much overtime. I'll be damned if I'm going to let the courts base their child-support and alimony on 60 hour work-weeks. Can't pay much, if I'm broke and out of work."

"Any chance of you gettin' your boss to fire you, instead of quitting? The courts will look a lot more kindly on that. You quit, they figure what you can afford on back history. You get fired, there's a lot more wiggle room."

Jonathan smiled at the older man's analysis. Judge Bill Wesley had been district court judge longer than he could remember, only retiring a few years back. He'd know how things work, better than anybody.

"Her family's putting up with this crap? Doesn't sound like the Finnegans I know."

"They don't know yet. Nobody knows. She wants us to keep it secret."

"The hell you say! Damn slut thinks she can hide her cheating ways, does she?" He pulled what looked like a ten year old flip-phone out of his pocket, and after searching through his contacts for a minute, he was waiting for the voice on the far end.

"Jimmy. Bill here. Got some hard news for you. I hate to be the one to tell you... No, nothing like that. Your granddaughter, Susan, married to the Schritter, I mean Freemont, kid, she's cheating on him... No, I'm not fuckin' kidding... No, didn't catch her or anything, she came out and told him last night, said she's been doing it for a year... She's not leaving, at least not according to her, she wants him to be good with it, and allow her to keep screwing around... Hell, no! Of course not. You think he's some kind of fucking pussy?... Yeah, I know. Tough to hear. Always was a selfish little bitch... Not sure yet, but it ain't looking good. I thought you should know, sorry to be the messenger... Sure, I'll tell him."

Bill turned to Jonathan, the anger simmering behind his eyes. "Broke her grandpa's heart, the slut did. Nobody wants to think their kids would grow up to be like that. He's sorry, he says."

"Thanks. Damn, this is so hard to believe."

His grandfather spoke up. "You said she might be back today? You need to get home and control things. Make sure you make it damn clear you're not going along with what she's doing. No man in his right mind would."

"I think I've already done that."

"How you going to deal with that monstrosity of a house you bought."

"Figure I'd let the bank take it."

The old judge spoke up. "If her name's on the deed, she can stop you."

"I don't know what else to do."

"For now, I'd say stay in the house. Control your finances, and stop making payments. You never heard it from me, but you can hide your money. Stash cash. Drive up to Oklahoma and 'lose' most of it in the Indian casinos. Take a couple of months, if you can stand it, get your ducks in a row, and get so far behind in your payments, there's no way out. Then you deal with her. You divorce her now, your ass is grass. Play her on your line a bit, set your drag lightly."

His grandfather looked him over. "I hate to be the one to say it, but you've let yourself go, boy. You're going to be back on the market soon. You might take this time to get yourself ready. The stupid bitch thinks you can't get a woman? Her pussy is gold-plated? Shit, there ain't nothin' easier in the world. We'll have you back in the saddle in no-time."

Jonathan was a little sensitive on the subject. "I'm not the only one who let themselves go. She's not perfect."

The old man laughed. "No, but that don't matter none. Decent looking woman willing to spread her legs will always find someone to park between them. There's no denying she's still a fine looking broad. More's the pity. I hope you ain't lookin' for that kind of relationship. Your kids are going to need a real woman. Not some slut."

"I'm not ready to be dating, Grandpa. Besides, I'm still married."

"Not in spirit you're not. She left you. Remember that. you had no choice in the matter. She has a new love now. Whatever you think you had is over. You don't owe her nothin'. Hell, we can sit talking all day, but it ain't gonaa get us nowhere. Head on home. I'll talk to Len about takin' you on. Stop by tomorrow, we'll palaver some and see what Bill finds out."

Jonathan returned home, feeling better. His feelings and reactions to his wife's ambush vindicated by his elders.

There wasn't much to keep him busy, and he missed his family already. He wondered if he hadn't gone a little overboard quitting his job and closing out the accounts so quickly. Too late to worry over spilled milk. At least he felt a little more in control. Not responding to whatever the bitch insisted was her right.

He looked through the refrigerator again, trying to figure out what he was going to eat. He saw the large pile of carryout menus beside the refrigerator and looked at them in disgust. No wonder they had no money, and were out of shape. He threw the TV dinners in the trash, along with the menus. When Susan hadn't called or shown up by 7:00, he drove out to the supermarket and filled the basket with healthier options.

When he got home, Susan was waiting for him.

She looked at him, and stepped back in shock. "Jonathan?" His new appearance was unexpected.

"Susan," he said calmly, taking the half-dozen bags of groceries he was carrying, and heading for the kitchen.

She followed. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for the way things turned out last night. None of that came out the way I wanted it to. I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you calm now? Sober? Can we talk like adults?"

He shrugged. "Didn't matter how you said it. Knowing you'd thrown our marriage away for some young stud was going to hurt no matter what. You get some more great sex last night?"

She scolded herself again. Why had she brought up the sex? She knew that it would hurt him. With men, it was always about the sex. Why couldn't he understand that was the least of their problems? 

"Please, Jonathan. I shouldn't have said anything about sex. It was unconscionable. Making love to you is wonderful. That's not the issue."

He laughed. "Not anymore it isn't, that's for sure. I wouldn't touch your cheating cunt with a 10 foot pole. What do you want, Susan?"

His words shocked her. He'd never spoken to her like that. Not in eleven years of marriage. She felt her anger building, but tried to stay calm. She didn't need a repeat of the night before. "I want you to understand what I'm going through. This isn't easy for me. I didn't mean to fall in love with him. I only wanted to help him through a difficult time. It doesn't have to affect us at all. I love you and I'll never leave you."


Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 01



"Got it. Now you're 'in love' with him. I understand. Thank you for that. Anything else you want to say, maybe you'd like to open my chest, tear my heart out and dance on it? Please, tell me how I'm inadequate, how I can't fulfill your needs, how I deserve to be treated like scum. I'm sure you've practiced lots of pointed little barbs to hurt me as much as you can. Have the whole damn conversation planned like the one you ambushed me with last night."

"No, Jonathan. I don't want to hurt you. I love you. You're my husband, the father of my children. My soul-mate. I'll always love you. I just need to be there for him. Can't you understand? This is important to me. To us."

"So go to him. I have no desire to be in the same house as a cheating wife who doesn't want me. Go. Please. Your presence here sickens me."

She was crying. "I know you don't mean that. You're only trying to hurt me. I know you love me, and you'll come to see what's best for all of us, for the children. I...I'm going to bring them home tomorrow. They don't need to know about the problems we're having. Nobody needs to, this is between us. I expect if we have any issues, we can take them up in private."

"And what am I supposed to say when you're spending the night at lover-boy's?"

"I don't do that. I never have, until last night, and I didn't intend to then. You scared me last night, with your drunken, loutish behavior. I thought you might hurt me. I couldn't stay here. I've never done that before. Things can be just as they have been for the last year."

"I don't think so. I guess if you're waiting until tomorrow to pick them up, it means you'll be spending the night spreading your whore legs for lover-boy again."

"Please don't call him that. He's a nice man. A good man."

"Right. The kind of man that can't find his own woman, has to steal another man's wife. So nice. So good. So honorable. Go to him, already, before I throw up."

She stood, and slowly started walking away. "I'm going to let you have some time," she said. "I understand this comes as a shock to you. I wish there'd been an easier way to say it. I love you and never wanted to hurt you."

"You could tell me it's a lie, that my loving wife really isn't a cheating slut."

"Damn it, Jonathan! I'm not a slut! I can't believe you can say that. I'm not running around on you. This isn't some tawdry affair, I love the man. You calling me names and insulting me isn't helping anything. Are you trying to force me to divorce you and destroy your life?"

"Did you love him the first time you spread your legs for him? When you broke your vows, abandoned your family and became a cheating slut. Did you love him then?"

She stood there, mouth gaping. He had a point. She remembered the guilt of that first time, coming home, crying in the shower, until the water turned cold. Telling Rich they could never do it again. She had cared for him, but love him? No, she hadn't loved him. She liked the way he made her feel, needed. 

She turned and walked away, angry that he'd made her feel guilty for something that was good and right. He had needed her.

Once she'd left, he had a hard time not going back to finish whatever was left of the Jim Beam. Instead, he made a salad, ate a skinless chicken breast, and went for a long walk. It didn't make him feel any better, but at least he didn't feel any worse.

* * *

Jonathan got up with the alarm, and was at his grandfather's by 8:00 am. Treat it like just another work day.

He was surprised to find the old man's entire crew there, waiting. They were a tight knit group. On the mantle, over the fireplace, was a picture of the five of them, dressed up in their green uniforms, Eagle scouts, all. They'd been best friends their entire lives. Hard to imagine in this day and age, having four best friends you could count on, always, for over 60 years.

They had always faced trouble head-on, as a team. Jonathan was lucky to have them on his side. He was led into the dining room, where a big farm breakfast was set out. Seven place settings. Jonathan looked around again, and saw that his Uncle Len was there as well. He took his seat, and Bill's wife came out, offering coffee to those who wanted it. Behind her, Darrel's wife appeared, proudly bearing a plate of hot cakes a good eight inches high, each as wide as the plate.

Jonathan laughed. "There goes my diet," he said.

Uncle Len stabbed a couple of the hotcakes and dropped them on Jonathan's plate. "Enjoy. Trust me, working as a ranch hand is going to burn off any calories you can get in your system. You're starting at the bottom."

Along with Bill and his grandfather, two of the other men were retired. Darrel Smith had been a career Army officer, and put in another dozen years as a civilian teaching, after his retirement at 30 years as a bird Colonel. He still did the occasional substitute teaching, but not more than a few weeks a year. James Krum was another of the old German immigrants, and owned the ranch that butted up to grandpa's on the south. His two sons ran it now, but he kept his hand in, and attended all the cattle auctions religiously. A Vietnam war vet, he'd joined with Darrel, but left the service after two tours, when his older brother died, leaving him in line to get the ranch. Carl Jenkins' family owned the first market in town, and the hardware store. They'd been the well-to-do family, their livelihoods independent of the weather, the cost of feed, and the vagaries of the beef market.

Apparently they were all aware of his situation. Once the friendly chatter slowed, Bill started in. "First things first. We're behind you, 100%. I hope you don't mind, but our wives have been included in the conversation. They may be able to help with a woman's point of view. You had to know that once we got involved, there was no way of keeping them out of it."

"Not a problem, sir. I understand."

"Good. How much does your mother know?" he asked.

"Nothing, yet. I haven't told anybody but you and Grandpa."

"She needs to know. She'll be mighty pissed off to find out her father and brother were told before she was. Today, alright?"

Jonathan nodded. Not a conversation he was looking forward to.

"Fine. The bastard's name is Rich Patton. Worked as a para-legal at Bell and Richards. Apparently went back for his law degree after his wife's death. Big insurance payoff made it possible. Don't know if he's passed the bar yet. Sounds likely, though. Supposedly a pretty sharp guy and well-liked. Doesn't make him any less of a bastard.

"I know you don't want to hear it, but everyone at the law-firm seems to know of your wife's involvement. The only thing they didn't know was that she was married. Apparently she's been hiding that tiny little fact."

The ex-judge had the attention of the entire group, while they dug into their breakfast. Jonathan noticed that the four older women were standing near the kitchen listening in. Jonathan ghawed on a piece of the thick cut, apple smoked bacon.

"The only real question, before we start in, is if there's any chance at all of reconciliation. She's the mother of your children, three, under the age of 10, right?"

"Five, eight and ten," Jonathan said.

His grandfather spoke up. "Do you want her back, boy? That's the big question. Can you overlook a year of slutting around, and take her back?"

"Maximilian!" one of the women snapped. Jonathan recognized her as the Judge's wife. "You have no business calling her a slut. We haven't heard her side of the story. Don't make this any more difficult than it is."

The Judge turned and faced his wife. "Judith! You said you'd keep out, until you were asked your opinion."

"I'm not going to let you railroad him. She screwed up. We all know that. It's up to the boy if he wants to try to work things out, for the sake of the family. Don't try to make her look any worse than she is."

"She's been screwing around with another man for a year, behind his back, and now wants him to accept that there's a new man in their lives. What else do you call a wife who has an affair for over a year, and refuses to give it up?"

"Confused? I don't know. It's up to them to work it out, if they want to. Let him decide on his own."

Jonathan spoke up. "She came over again last night. Didn't stay. Went back to her lover. No apologies, other than she says she didn't mean to hurt me. No intention of stopping her affair. Still threatening me. I can't accept that."

The Colonel spoke up for the first time. "What if she did give him up? Is it too late?"

Jonathan took a few seconds to think that over. "I don't know. If she stopped it, realized how hurtful it was, if she was repentant, and I could believe it wouldn't happen again, then maybe."

"That's a lot of 'ifs' for a maybe. You think there's any chance of that happening?"

"Honestly? No. She says she loves him. She's in love with him. Says he's a great lover. I can't see my way around that. She had no call telling me about her love life with him. She was trying to hurt me. She threatened me with divorce and ruin. Keeping my kids from me. She wants to cheat, and laughs at the idea of my finding another woman, and says if I did, she'd divorce me. As if that's fair. No, I want her out of my life."

The Colonel's wife, Diane spoke up. "That's not going to happen, Jonathan. She's the mother of your kids. Like it or not she'll be in your life for the next thirteen years at least, unless you plan on abandoning your children."

"They're my kids. My responsibility," Jonathan snapped.

"Understood. But they're hers too. You can divorce her, but if it's bitter, hurtful, you're going to have to live with that for the next couple of decades," Diane said.

"Hurtful, like telling me she had an affair for a year, and he was a better lover than me? That she was keeping him whether I liked it or not, and if I caused any trouble she'd divorce me, make me pay, and laugh while I lived out of a cardboard box, supporting her?" Jonathan replied angrily.

His grandfather stood up. "Ladies, we invited you here to provide your advice and wisdom. You agreed to stay out of it until you were asked for your input. I don't think you're helping at the moment. Please, leave us alone for now, and we'll get you involved once he's made his decisions on how to move forward."

There was a little grumbling, but the women moved out to the living room, leaving the men alone.

"What do you want, Jonathan? As simply as you can state it."

"I want her out. I want the kids. I don't want to support her. I don't want to be paying for her to have a good time with her lover. I want him to suffer if I can. Both of them, if I'm totally honest with myself. I'd like to break them up, maybe even make them hate each other."

The older men looked at each other, and they all slowly started to grin. The Colonel nodded. "Good. We're all on the same page, then. It's war. Battle lines are drawn. Now it's a matter of tactics."

* * *

Three hours of non-stop discussion and arguing had the basic plan in place. The women were brought in at that point, over lunch, and though they weren't happy with the decision, they supported it. 

Jonathan called his house and left a message. "I won't be home tonight," he said. "Tomorrow night either. I'll see you Sunday."

Leaving the 'Eagle's' and their wives to deal with the first order of business, Jonathan headed for his mother's house, wanting to be there when she got off work.

She greeted him in surprise at his new look. "What brings you over? You could have called."

"I need to talk to you Mom. It's important."

She was crying only minutes into his explanation.

"No chance you'll take her back? She's the mother of your children, Jonathan. She's given you eleven good years."

"Nine, really. That's when she started seeing her lover."

"Is divorce the only solution? Nobody wins in divorce."

"I don't see any other way, Mom. Honestly. She won't give him up. She loves him, she says. She's been screwing him for a year. I can't accept that."

His mother nodded. "It breaks my heart, baby. I have to tell you."

"Mine too. Believe me."

"What can I do? You need help watching the kids on the weekends or evenings?"

"Right now, I'm staying in the house. I'm not starting the divorce yet. She may want to before long. I'm not going to help her though. I'm not going to pay for her to be with her new love. I'm cutting her off. She wants money, she's going to have to get a job. I'll pay for the house, and food, and take care of the kids, but she's not getting a dime unless it's court ordered."

His mother nodded. "She probably should get a job. She's going to need it once you two are through."

"I want you to go with me to talk to her parents. I don't want them watching the kids while she's out screwing around on me."

"I'm sure they wouldn't do that," his mother said anxiously.

"They've been doing it. The only question is did they know why."

Twenty minutes later they were knocking on the Finnegan's front door. "Jonathan, you look so different!" Susan's mother said. "You've already missed them. Susan picked up the kids over an hour ago."

"Actually, I came to speak to you and Dad. Can we come in?"

"Of course! Carolyn, nice to see you. Can I get you a drink?" She called into the house, "Terry! Jonathan and his mother are here!"

"Soft drink would be nice," his mother said.

"Ginger Ale?"

His mother nodded, and he said, "I'll take the same, thank you."

They were seated in the living room, when Brenda brought them their drinks, with Terry following close behind. Brenda sat down. "Is something the matter? You don't look... well."

He nodded. "I'd like you to stop covering for Susan while she's having her affair."

Brenda acted like she'd been slapped, and Terry turned red. "How the hell can you say something like that?" Terry growled angrily.

"For a year she's been seeing her lover, and you watch the kids while she does. I'd like you to stop that. I think it's beneath you to support her cheating on me."

Brenda was the first to speak. "That's ridiculous! She loves you and the kids. She's not having an affair. We certainly wouldn't cover for her if she was."

"She spent the last couple of nights at her lover's house, while you watched the kids. She told me two nights ago she was in love with him and had been seeing him for the last year. She doesn't see him at night, she's home with her family. That means she sees him during the day. I doubt she takes the kids with her. Do you mean to tell me you haven't been watching our kids several times a week for the last year?"

Brenda sat with her mouth open. "She...she said she was doing volunteer work at the battered women's shelter."

"Unless the bastard's beating her, the only thing battered is our marriage," Jonathan said.

Terry looked distraught. "She told you? She had an affair?"

"Is having an affair. She refuses to give him up. She says she loves him, but she wants me to take care of her and the kids. I'll be damned if I'm going to be paying her to fuck another man."

Brenda was on the verge of tears. "I can't believe it. I can believe she'd use us to cover for her cheating."

"I'd like you to please stop. You're helping her destroy our marriage. There's no hope for us as long as she's seeing him. Can you understand that?"

Terry's face was red. "You have no fault in this, I suppose? Were you cheating on her?"

"No. You have no cause to imply I was. My only fault was working too many hours to pay for that damn house she had to have, and to keep her in new lingerie for her boyfriend. I... I may have let myself go a little. Put on some pounds, worked too many hours, came home too tired to pay enough attention to her, maybe. I don't see how that's any reason for her to take on a new lover for a year. Do you think that's right?"

His wife's father glared at him. "I don't know what's right or wrong. I'm only hearing one side of this story. I'll save my judgment until I hear her side."

"Sure. I understand. Daddy's little girl can do no wrong. She couldn't be a cheating slut, could she? Stop watching the kids so she can fuck around!" Jonathan snapped.

"I think you should leave now," Terry growled angrily.

"That works for me. What kind of people cover for their daughter so she can be a cheating whore, abandoning her kids all the time to get fucked by some young guy? Who raises that kind of kid?" Jonathan replied testily.

"Out!," Terry screamed, his Irish temper in full bloom.

Carolyn couldn't believe how belligerent it had become so quickly. She looked across at Brenda, sorrowfully. Jonathan ignored them, headed for the door. "Congratulations on raising a whore, Dad. Good job!" he sniped as a parting shot.

His mother snapped at him. "How could you speak to them like that?"

"I wanted him angry. She'll feel the brunt of it, if she's been hiding it from them. If not, if they knew about it, then fuck them, they deserve it."

* * *

Jonathan headed north, for the Oklahoma border. His mission, he'd been told, was to collect as many losing receipts as he could, get a hotel room for a couple nights, do a little gambling, and maybe get his ashes hauled. He felt no guilt over the idea of sleeping with another woman. The moment his wife confessed to her year-long affair, and said she was going to keep seeing the bastard, their marriage was over. Now they were just marking time until the paperwork was done.

His phone had started ringing within minutes of leaving town, but he'd turned it off before he even hit the state border. He figured the shit would be hitting the fan. Oh well, she made her bed, let her sleep in it. Not like the whore wouldn't have company.

He tried his luck at a couple of the tables, then hit the bar. It wasn't half an hour later that he was talking to a gorgeous woman, who had a salve for his pain, and was willing to rent it to him. He felt a fleeting pang of guilt, paying $400 for a woman. Like he was cheating. Then he'd laughed to himself. The bitch had done it for a year. Why shouldn't he? At least he wasn't getting emotionally involved.

Afterward, as he escorted her out of his room, he grinned. Damn, best sex I've had in years, he thought. The woman had the body of a Goddess, and gave him unlimited access. He'd come in her mouth, in her pussy twice, and even in her ass. He'd fucked her for two solid hours, and she used her mouth to make sure he kept coming back for more. He'd used a condom, but it wasn't that bad. Maybe good even, it helped him delay his finish. Best $400 he ever spent. $400 the cheating whore wife would never get her hands on.

The following day, he wandered the casino for a while. He played a little craps, and some poker, losing a couple of hundred bucks. He'd picked up dozens of receipts in the Keno and Sports betting rooms. Thousands of dollars' worth. He'd taken in the show, and found another good-looking woman who was more than happy to exchange her favors for a few hundred bucks. Not as young or pretty as the previous night's guest, she was closer to his age, and very easy going. He managed to get her for only $300, and got even more use out of her than he had the tall blonde, the night before. He figured it had to last; he'd be damned if he would be having sex with his whore of a wife anytime soon. It was so good, he tipped her an extra $50. She gave him a business card, and asked him to look her up any time he needed company. He saved it.

Jonathan felt sated but lonely in the big bed that night. He thought about his wrecked marriage, and all the things his wife had done with her younger, better lover. The bitch. How could she do that to him? To her only children? How selfish could one person be? Giving up her marriage for some stranger fucking her. What kind of man would set out to steal another man's wife? Figures it would be a lawyer. Lying cheating fucks, all of them. Scum of the earth. 




Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 01



He slept in the following morning, stood in front of the mirror, and cleaned up. He shaved his head, carefully checking for any rough spots, then applied the aftershave lotion. He trimmed his beard where it was coming in, neatening it. He almost didn't recognize the man in the mirror. 

Jonathan pulled into his driveway a little after noon. His wife's car was there, so he girded himself for battle. Walking into the house, the kids saw him first and swarmed him.

They were laughing, wanting to touch his head, asking him where his hair was. Where had he been? Why didn't he come home?

His wife was glaring at him, anger seething just below the surface. He laughed with the kids. "Daddy had some business to take care of out of town. I'm back now, and I shouldn't have to go away again anytime soon."

Susan had moved closer. "We need to talk, dear," she whispered.

"Soon. I'd like to spend some time with my kids, now that they're not at your parent's house."

Jonathan sat down in front of the TV with the kids, talking about their time with their grandparents. "I bet you like staying with them, don't you? You get to see them a lot. A lot more than your other Grandmother."

"A lot more," Cindy the oldest said. "Grandma picks me and Joey up after summer school."

The plot thickens, Jonathan thought. "And she watches Nancy?"

Little Nancy nodded.

Susan was standing over them. "Jonathan, I'd really like to talk now," she said.

"I'd really like to have a faithful wife," Jonathan snapped. "Looks like neither of us are going to get our wish."

She stepped back as if he'd slapped her. "Is this what you want? Hash it out here, now, in front of the kids?" she hissed.

"No, I'll talk to you when I'm good and ready. It took you two years to talk to me. Now you're in some kind of big hurry?" Jonathan told her, his cold eyes staring at her.

She turned, sobbing and ran into their bedroom.

"Why's Mom crying," Joey asked.

"Your Mom's been very naughty. She knows she's in trouble," Jonathan explained.

"Did she break something?" Nancy asked. Breaking something was the worst thing you could possibly do.

"Yes she did," he answered. Her wedding vows. His heart. Their marriage.

He spent a few more minutes with the kids, and braced himself for the coming confrontation. He entered the bedroom, and closed the door behind him.

"How could you!" Susan shrieked. "I told you we didn't need to get my parents involved!"

"I told you I didn't want you fucking around," Jonathan said calmly.

"Where the hell were you the last two nights?"

"Out. Where were you the last two years?"

"Where's out? What are you up to?"

"None of your business anymore. Once you chose him over me, you lost any rights to ask me that."

She tired of that line of argument. "Why doesn't my phone work?" 

"I canceled your service. Just like I canceled your health insurance. Like I canceled your credit card."

"Why? Why would you do that? Are you so petty?"

"I'm not going to be the one paying you to fuck around on me. You want to be a whore, you do it on your own dime," Jonathan explained.

"I'm not a whore! I fell in love with another man. Are you so shallow, so selfish you can't see the difference?"

"So I'm the selfish one? Because I want my wife to remember her wedding vows, to stay faithful to me and our children?"

"Don't bring the kids into this."

"No, you did that. Getting rid of them every day so you could spend your time in bed with your lover."

"We didn't spend our time in bed. I took care of him. I helped him. He needed me."

"How exactly did you take care of him, Susan dearest?"

"Don't be a smartass. I... I cooked, I did his laundry, cleaned up a little. I accompanied him out sometimes. We talked. He took time to talk with me. He understands me, doesn't ignore me for the television and beer."

"So you were his wife, cooking for him, while we ate carry-out. Talking with him, when you ignored me and abandoned your kids. You traded this family for another one. Fine. Let your other husband pay for your cell-phone, for your insurance, let him give you spending money, buy you nice clothes. Trade sex for money from the man you're not married to. You say you're not a whore?"

"Why are you doing this? It doesn't have to be this way. We were happy for the last year, weren't we? I never made you do without. Why can't we go back to being that way? Don't you love me at all? Did you ever love me?" she whined, tears glistening in her eyes.

"I didn't know you were a cheating slut then. Now every time I see you, I picture you in the arms of your lover who gives you great sex. Your younger man."

"It's not about the sex, Jonathan. Not at all. You've got to get past that, give your fragile ego a break. It's about the love and companionship. He cares for me, and I care for him. We love each other. The sex is only an expression of that love. I never said he was better than you. It's different, that's all. I still love you. I... I need him."

"That's fine. See him all you want. I don't care. But as long as you're seeing him, I'm not paying for it. He loves you; he can pay your way."

"Don't think he hasn't offered! He's rich. Not like you, working day and night to barely keep a roof over our heads," she shrilled angrily, immediately regretting her words.

"Which is it, Susan? Is it love, or are you simply looking to trade up? You're angry 'cause I work my ass off to give you the house you wanted, to take care of our children? I work 60 hours a week, to make sure you have whatever you need. What do you do? You don't work, you don't take care of the kids. You hardly ever cook anymore. What do you do for this family that I'm busting my ass over?"

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. I've always appreciated how hard you work for us. You...you just make me so angry. Why can't we have things the way they were?"

"Stop seeing him. Be a loving faithful wife and a good mother. Then we'll see if things can't be the way they were, for a good nine years before you threw your marriage away."

"I threw nothing away! I always was here for you. I only saw him when you were working, and the kids were in school. I've always placed my family first."

"Like you did the two nights you spent at his house? When I was working? When the kids were at school?"

"You drove me to him. You know you did. I was scared of you. The second night you begged me to go to him."

"I know, it's always my fault. You did nothing wrong."

"I didn't! I can't help the way I feel."

Jonathan sighed. "This is getting nowhere. Are you going to stop seeing him?"

"No."

"Then you're on your own. This is my bedroom. You're welcome to stay here, but I'm not leaving. I'll continue to feed you when you're home, and I'll keep the car paid for, and insured to make sure you can take care of the kids. Things are going to be tight around here."

"Why? What do you mean tight?"

"I quit my job. It was interfering with my family too much."

"You quit your job? Without discussing it with me?" Susan shrieked.

"You fucked another man, without discussing it with me?" Jonathan mocked her.

"That's not the same," she said.

"I know. It's much worse. I'll be working for Uncle Len. I won't be making near the money, but we can squeak by if we're careful. No more wasteful spending."

"I never waste money," she said.

"How much gas do you use, driving to Rich's house and your parents every day? How many lunches, coffee house meetups?"

It took a few seconds before she realized what he'd said. "How... who said his name was Rich?"

"Richard Patton. 'Rich' to his sluts. Para-legal and dilettante, living off the money he made killing his wife. Some lover you have there."

"It's not like that! He didn't kill her. It was an accident. It wasn't his fault. And he's not a para-legal. He's a lawyer. He's finished law school and passed the bar exam. He's not a dilettante."

"He must work awfully hard, since he can spend all his days fucking you."

"STOP SAYING THAT!" she screamed.

Jonathan glared at her. "I thought you were the one who wanted to do this in private. If you're going to start screaming, we might as well invite the kids in."

"We don't spend all of our days fucking. If you have to know, we only make love a few days a week."

"Do you ever have sex with me on the days you screw him?" Jonathan asked.

She blushed. "I told you, it's not about the sex."

"God, Susan. You are such a fucking slut. You disgust me. Does it thrill you to make me fuck you when you've been with your lover? Do you ever make me go down on you after you've been with him? How much of a cuckold have you made me?"

"No, Jonathan. Don't say that. I would never do anything like that. I always clean up after I'm with him. I wouldn't do that to you. I love you. I wouldn't flaunt it like that. I don't want to hurt you. Please, can we not talk about this? I love you, honey. I want things to be wonderful between us. Can't you let me have this? I'll make sure you never regret it. I promise."

Jonathan shook his head. "Tell me when you've stopped seeing him. If I'm still around, we can see if there's anything left to salvage of our marriage." He turned and walked out the door, unwilling to continue the useless conversation.

He made himself a sandwich, and watched his wife take call after call in the bedroom. She walked up to him while he was cleaning up in the kitchen. "That was my grandfather, disowning me. Are you going to be a complete asshole about this? Do you really want to start a pissing contest you can't win?"

"Stop seeing him," Jonathan said. "I'm going out for a while. I'll be back for dinner. It would be nice if you took some time out of your busy schedule to cook something for once."

"You just got here," she whined. "We still have to talk."

"After dinner."

* * *

Using the information the Judge had acquired, Jonathan was standing on the doorstep of the Tudor, ten minutes later. It was a nice house, larger than his own. Far more than a single man needed.

The door opened. "Yes?"

Jonathan stuck his foot in the door. "I want you to stop fucking my wife. You killed your wife. Now you're killing my marriage. Stop."

The slender, smaller man looked up in fear. He leaned against the door, pushing it closed, but it didn't budge. "I...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stop fucking Susan Freemont. Mrs. Jonathan Freemont. My wife. Don't ever get in a car with her. If you kill her too, I'll hunt you down and make sure your last minutes on earth are as miserable as possible. I don't want a killer fucking the mother of my children."

"I...I'm not a killer. It was an accident," the frightened man said.

"You killed her. You're living off the money you made doing it. You spent that blood money seducing then fucking my wife. Stop it. If you don't I will, and you won't like that."

"You can't threaten me!" the man whined.

"Stop fucking her, you little worm. There are plenty of single women out there that the fee for killing your wife can buy you. Leave my wife alone. Murdering bastard."

Jonathan walked away, confident he'd gotten his points across.

* * *

If Susan had been angry before, she was absolutely furious when he got home.

She marched toward him angrily, and he strolled past her, lifting his youngest onto his lap, tickling her, getting her to giggle.

"I'd like to talk, please," Susan said, standing beside him.

"Then talk."

"In private."

He shrugged, happy to have yanked her chain once more. He walked back to the bedroom, his wife following him, closing the door behind them.

"You attacked him? Threatened him? Called him a killer? A murderer?" she spat at her husband.

"Him? I'm not sure. Which him are you talking about?"

"God damn it, you know good and well. What do you think you're doing?"

"I told him I didn't want him fucking my wife anymore. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"You called him a killer!"

"Yes I did. He is. He killed his wife. I told him I didn't want him driving you anywhere. I don't want him killing you also. Even if you are a whore, you're still the mother of my children."

"He didn't kill her. It was an accident. You have no right saying that."

"He was driving. She died. He killed her. Just as dead as if he put a gun to her head."

"How could you? It almost destroyed him. He loved her. His depression was so bad he almost died. It took me years to get him to where he is today."

"So you're saying if I can get him depressed again, he might die, and this nightmare will all be over?" Jonathan asked.

She stared at the man she'd been married to for 11 years. How could he have changed so much in so little time? Become so heartless. So unfeeling. "You don't mean that. You couldn't."

"I'd dance on his grave, if it meant you becoming a good faithful wife again, and placing this family first."

She looked into his eyes and shivered. There was no doubt in her mind he was telling her the absolute truth. "He needs me, Jonathan. If you ever loved me, loved me at all, you'll understand. He needs me. Let this run its course. Give me a little time. When he's strong enough to be on his own, I... I'll give him up. Can we do that? Please? We won't have to talk about it. I'll be discrete. Nobody has to know. I'll be the perfect wife. Don't make this any worse."

"Do what you have to do, Susan. Obviously I can't stop you. But as long as you're seeing him, you're my wife in name only. You'll live in this house, and take care of the children, but our love will be on life support. I don't know how long it will last. I know you don't care, but it's only fair that you should know."

"Don't say I don't care, baby. I still love you. I'll show you. I only need a little while. If you can't accept that, then I will divorce you. I'll take your kids and your house, and I'll make Rich their father. Is that what you want?"

"That will never happen, Susan. You need to know that."

"How can you stop it? I have the law on my side. You'll pay. You'll work your ass off for kids you never see, so I can have my love, my home and my kids. You'll have nothing."

"Never happen, Susan. Take my word for it," he said sadly. "Don't put it to the test."

She stared at him nervously. He meant it. She could tell. Eleven years together told her he was dead serious.

"You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?" she asked.

"Stop seeing him. And stop threatening me."

He stared at her, daring her to challenge him. She was the first to blink, running into the bathroom, crying at how it had possibly come to this.

* * *

Carrot and Stick. That was the plan for Susan.

Hints for the carrot, Jonathan had received from the Eagle's wives. It made sense that a trio of 70-something women would know a thing or two about how the female mind operates. 

Obviously, I didn't have a clue, he thought.

Susan was out of sorts after he'd shaken up her day. Quite intentionally. He decided to handle the kids, and give her some quiet time. He got them into bed, eventually, although Cindy was fighting to stay up past 9:00 now that she was a 'big' girl. He compromised, letting her stay up until 9:15, to cutoff the discussion, and maybe a little to assuage his guilt over leaving for two days.

With the house quieted down, he could hear Susan on the phone. It might have been lover-boy, or maybe there was a friend or two she confided in. He didn't know. At that moment, he didn't really care.

Jonathan opened a bottle of wine, and selected two crystal goblets for them. He knocked on the bedroom door, and waited a moment for her to get off the phone. She eventually opened it, looking up at him sadly. "You don't have to knock, it's your bedroom," she said softly.

He walked past her and put the tray down on the bedside table. He remembered her locking the door on him a few nights earlier. His bedroom. Right. "I didn't want to interrupt you on the phone," he explained.

"It...It was just my sister Jenny. She wanted to know what was going on. Everybody's talking, you know. You've really started a mess."

He hadn't started anything. She was the one fucking around, cheating. Now was the not the time to remind her of that. He poured out a glass for her, stood and put it in her hand. "It's been a rough week, hasn't it?"

He wanted her to open up. Start talking. He'd listen, as much as he could stand.

She nodded. "Horrible. I never wanted this, Jonathan. I thought everything could be the same. Not like this. Why do you have to make things so difficult?"

He filled his own glass, and patted the bed beside him. "Come. Sit by me. Let's talk. Quietly, civilly. I still love you, baby."

She climbed on the bed, her bed-shirt climbing up her thighs when she sat cross-legged facing him. "Talk? No yelling, no accusations?"

He reached out and rubbed her bare knee. "Yes, talk. What went wrong, Susan? How did I fail you that you needed to find what you were missing in another man's arms?"

The ice around her heart started to melt. He did care. "It's complicated, honey. I love you. I never stopped loving you. Please tell me you believe that."

"Of course I do," he said, barely able to stomach the lie. "Would we be here if I didn't?"

"It was never supposed to happen. It was all just a series of small little things that kept building. I started talking to him at a party, and he was so sad and dejected over his life, I found myself trying to comfort him. The first time I got him to smile was a huge success. The first tentative laugh was a greater one. I felt so good, like what I was doing mattered."

She looked at her husband nervously, and he just nodded. "It's wrong, I know, but I was tired of being just a Mom and housewife. My days a mind-numbing repetition. Taking care of a toddler, a six year old, and an eight year old, I never seemed to have time for me. You were so busy all the time. I know, God Jonathan, it hurts to even say it. I know you were doing it for us, for me, for the kids, for the family, but all you did was work, and come home exhausted, and I... I felt unloved, like you didn't care for me. I was just a nanny and housekeeper."

Jonathan reviewed the advice the older women had given him. Don't argue about what she felt, right or wrong. Let her come to the right conclusions on her own, steer her that way carefully. Allow her to put some of the blame on him, accept it, and she'd feel all the more guilty.

"I'm sorry, baby. I should have seen it. Ten hour days, six days a week are pretty exhausting, when you have a physical job like mine. It's no excuse for letting things slide between us. I appreciated everything you did, even though I might not have said it."

She shook her head, eyes glistening. "I know it wasn't your fault. I could have talked to you more about it. But you seemed like you were slipping away. No time for me, for us. You were drinking more, you always seemed to be sitting on that couch with a beer in your hand. I started hating that damn couch, and that TV. You always had time for them, but not for me."

Jonathan let her vent. "I'm often under a lot of stress. It was something I did to try to relieve that. I didn't want you to have to feel the pressure I was under. We were letting people go, and there was more and more to do, with tighter schedules. I should have talked to you about it, instead of holding it in."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I was bored, and he became my project. That was all, to start with. There was nothing there for a year. I didn't see him that way, I swear. I felt good helping him, watching him slowly pull himself together. I felt useful, and that's what I needed. That was our entire problem. It was never about a lack of affection, or our love-making, or falling out of love with you. I never stopped loving you. I was doing something that made me feel good, and I was proud. I wasn't doing anything wrong, except maybe spend too much time with another man, but it wasn't romantic. It was like a job. One I was doing well at."




Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 01



"I can see how that could happen. Everyone needs to feel good about themselves. I had hoped that being a wonderful mother and terrific wife would have filled that need. I understand you weren't getting the feedback from us, that you were from him." Jonathan was finding it harder to keep up the act. Doing nothing wrong! Then why did she hide it for a year?

She had finished her wine, and Jonathan refilled her glass. She took a long sip gratefully. "It happened so fast, I wasn't ready for it. Things went slowly at first. Some phone calls, a few lunch meetings or having a coffee together. We talked. Talked like you and I didn't anymore. He was easy to talk to. He wanted to go to dinner, but I couldn't. I was a married woman. There's a difference between a lunch and a dinner. I offered to cook him a meal. It was a little weird at first, in a strange kitchen, not knowing where anything was. A little exciting if I'm honest. I still had no romantic feelings, he was just a friend."

Jonathan filled his own glass. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't need a blow by blow. He just wanted her to tell him what was wrong with their marriage that she had to fuck another man for a year. Not this sappy whining monologue about friendship. Men don't want women for friends. He knew that the slimy bastard intended to get into his wife's pants from the very beginning. He wanted to shake her, and explain it to her. Make her understand. The poor-pitiful-me act, playing on her mothering instincts. Instead, he tried to stay calm, nodding occasionally.

"After that, it became easier to go his house, than out in public. It was private, and we could talk more openly. Plus, I didn't want anyone to get ideas about us. We were just friends." She looked at him hopefully, that he might understand.

"Go on," Jonathan said.

She felt so good to be able to talk it out. Surely he would understand now. This was all they needed. A little time for him to get over the shock, to let his male ego take a back seat. Once he understood why, it would all be fine.

"I helped him around the house. He was so disorganized. Cleaned a little. Helped rearrange things. He'd let everything go after his wife's accident. We talked more; we could talk about anything. Sometimes we talked about our wants and needs. Then some more about our desires, our fantasies. Things we had done, or wanted to do. It wasn't about sex, it was about communication, sharing, understanding."

"He was seducing you," Jonathan blurted, not meaning to say the words.

She looked surprised. "No! Never. He was a friend. Someone who needed me, and who I needed. Good friends can talk about things like that. That was all. He's not like that."

Jonathan bit his lip, waiting. If he opened his mouth, the entire night's effort would be wasted. He tilted the bottle up and poured the last of it into her glass.

"It...it just happened. I was in the kitchen, and then we were kissing. I know I should have stopped it, but it was a kiss between friends. Then suddenly it wasn't. I don't even know how I ended up in his bedroom." Her hand was shaking as she sipped her wine.

She looked up at him, and he saw tears in her eyes. "I never meant for it to happen. I felt horrible. I came home and showered, scrubbing and scrubbing, but I could never get myself clean. I had cheated for the only time in my marriage, and I hated myself for it. I knew you'd see it in my eyes, but you only grabbed a beer, and sat on the couch. You didn't ask me, didn't see the guilt. I wondered if you even cared."

She drank down half her wine. "I tried to end it. He called and I told him to stop. I avoided him, not going anywhere we used to go. I swore to myself I'd never do anything like that again, and I'd make it up to you. Then I heard he was in the hospital, from an overdose of sleeping pills, and I knew it was because of me. I'd almost killed him. I... I went to him, to help him, but we promised each other that it could never happen again.

"I'm so sorry, Jonathan. I tried to stop it. I swear I did. I felt so bad seeing him slipping away again."

Jonathan was furious. At his stupid gullible wife, and that slimy predator. Overdose, my ass! he thought. A few pills, a call to the hospital, and he had her back, after she resisted his efforts. Lousy mother-fucker.

Jonathan took the empty glass from her, and placed it on the bedside table. She was sobbing, and he drew her into his arms, holding her. If she'd only talked then, this could have all been avoided. He could have forgiven her one stupid mistake. He was fairly certain he could. But a year of adultery? Demanding that she be allowed to keep seeing that slimeball? Threatening him. No, that he couldn't accept. She'd pay, they'd both pay.

He guided her down to the bed. She whimpered when he let her go, but all he did was turn off the lights. He pulled her close, holding her, letting his hands caress her body, slowly becoming more intimate. Moving from her sides and shoulders to her breasts. Brushing down her hips, across her thighs. Reaching between her legs and rubbing her gently, feeling her moistness. Playing her body, in all the ways that excited her.

She sat up and pulled her shirt off, lying naked in their bed. She turned to him reaching out. He braced himself for the more intimate contact. He was torn. He was disgusted with her, but her body was something he knew so well, had pleasured him so many times. It was tainted now, but still enthralling.

He eased her backward, leaning over her. He couldn't kiss her. That filthy, lying, cheating mouth of hers. He pressed his lips to her neck, right where it excited her most. He tweaked her nipples, then moved his hand south and started playing with her.

In only a few minutes she was pressing back desperately. He pulled his hand away, hearing the sharpness of her breath, smelling her need. The slut. He cuddled against her, putting his arm around her, holding her.

"Love me, Jonathan. Please. It's been too long," she whispered.

"No, baby. I won't be second to him. I can't do that."

She reached for him. "You are never second. I love you. You're my husband. You're first, he's second. My nights are yours. They've always been."

"You spent two nights in his bed. I have no doubt that once I'm at work you'll be fucking him again. I get a few moments with you, but he can spend all his time with you, pampering you, telling you how wonderful you are, stealing you away from me. I can't do it."

"Honey, it hasn't been a problem for over a year now. You don't even have to know. When I'm here with you I'm only yours."

He had tried. Damn, how he'd tried. The words were like knives, filleting him open. He released her, and rolled away from her, onto his side. 

Fucking slut. I married a fucking cheating whoresome slut.

Susan didn't understand, couldn't understand what had just happened. He'd been so good, loving, understanding. Then to shut down like that. Why couldn't he just love her? Make love to her? Nothing had changed. She moved to him, wrapping her arms around his wide body. He was so strong, made her feel small, feminine. She felt him tense up, and she felt a pang of guilt. What if she had stopped, back then? After that first time.

She sighed. Too late for that now. She had to make him understand. Nothing would change. It could be good again. Maybe even wonderful again, like it had been in the beginning. 

She found herself rubbing up against him, her nipples still hard, still agitated. She needed him. How could he not know?

Her hand reached around to his waist, and he shuddered when her fingers wrapped around his hardness. "Please, Jonathan," she whispered. "I know you want me. I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

"Never again, so long as you're seeing him," Jonathan said coldly, rolling away from her onto his stomach.

Susan turned away from him, the rejection painful. She didn't even try to hold back the tears, as she cried herself to sleep.

===================

The final part of this continuation is being submitted at the same time. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy this alternative ending.



Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 02



==================================

There's a Price to Pay for blatant infidelity.

Second and final part of the follow-up to Nici's Something We Have to Talk About. 

Jonathan, with the help of family and friends, embarks on a plan to balance the scales. His wife has confessed to cheating on him for a year, and insists he accept an ongoing affair, or she'll divorce him and take him to the cleaners.

He prefers option 3, none-of-the-above, and pursues an alternative solution.

==================================

The next morning Jonathan was up bright and early. It was the dawn of a new day, and he no longer felt out-of-control. He had confronted both his wife and her lover about their behavior, insisting it end. He'd started down a path to help ensure it stopped, with the help of his family and friends. That included quitting his old job, and going back to work on the family ranch. It also meant early hours.

Susan was still in bed when he headed downstairs for a quick breakfast. He idly wondered if she'd run off and fuck her boyfriend that day.

At the ranch, Uncle Len introduced him around, most of the people he already knew. He was told his responsibilities, and put under the direction of old Miguel, who'd been working with the family for a good 20 years.

Uncle Len sent word down for him to come to the house for his lunch break. There was a big spread set out, and he was smiling when he saw his Grandfather and friends waiting for him.

He gave them a quick 10 minute update on the weekend, the discussion with his mother, and his wife's family. The visit to the casino, glossing over the female companionship he'd found. He reviewed his actions with his wife, and the confrontation with the bastard.

The grandfather spoke when he was finished. "You should know, the Gray Brigade is making this their personal project."

"Gray Brigade?" Jonathan asked.

The Colonel responded. "Senior Center. All the retirees. A little excitement in their lives. If the little slut keeps it up, she's going to be hearing about it. That's for damn sure."

"Madge Johnson lives across the street a couple of doors down from the bastard," Carl Jenkins said. "Her daughter works at the my store. She'll be keeping an eye on the house. Anyone coming and going, Madge and her sister will know about it."

The Judge laughed. "Her parents are getting an earful as well. 'So sad to hear the kind of woman your daughter turned out to be. Is that why your other daughter moved away?' I'm glad I'm not on their bad side."

"You need to talk to the bank, Jon. Get all your contact information moved to my house. When you get behind on payments, we don't need them calling your house, and your slut wife getting wind of it," his Grandfather said.

The Judge had some papers out. "The guy's wife. The dead woman. Her name was Heather. I've got some pictures. Buried in the Methodist cemetery. Pretty ugly. He was thrown clear of the car, she was stuck inside. She might have been killed in the impact, but the car caught fire, and she was burned to the point where she was barely recognizable. The suit he won was about that. The vehicle had a history of catching fire in accidents."

Jonathan nodded. Some good information he could work with. "Thank you sir."

"No problem. We take care of our own."

He had his directions. Hot and cold to his wife. Start the program against the bastard. Continue to protect the assets. Move all financial contacts to Grandpa's house.

By the end of the day, Jonathan was aching in places he didn't even know he had. It felt good to be working outdoors, and to be around old friends. He headed home, cleaned up, and went to work on his second job. His wife.

* * *

That night Rich Patton got a phone call from a blocked number. "Hello?"

"It burns, Richie. How could you let me burn like that? It hurts so bad..." a quivering female voice whispered.

He recalled laying on the hard asphalt, watching his car engulfed in flames, his young wife still inside. He dropped the phone, the words resurrecting his pain.

"Aaaargh!" the voice screamed on the other end of the line, still audible from where he was standing.

* * *

"No, you can't bring the kids over here for us to watch," Brenda snapped angrily.

"But Mom, I need to go out," Susan said.

"Take your kids with you. They're your damn kids, Susan!"

"Everything takes so much longer with three children to take care of," she explained.

"What else do you have to do? It's not like you have a job, or do much around the house anyway. You going to run off to that bastard you're screwing?" her mother sneered.

"He's not a bastard. He's a good man. You don't understand."

"I understand he's a lowlife prick that's screwing another man's wife. God, you're such a disappointment to your father and I. We can't even walk around town without someone reminding us of what a whore you've become."

"Mother! How could you say that!"

"Dump the bastard and go crawling back to that husband of yours. Beg him for forgiveness. Blow him every night for a year. Maybe it's not too late to salvage your marriage."

"I did nothing wrong," Susan argued. "He's the one who should be apologizing to me."

She was shocked to hear nothing but a busy tone on the other end of the line.

* * *

Max Schritter sat at the table, addressing the group before him. They had the card room at the Senior center, the door closed. More women than men, but all understood the situation.

They'd already divided responsibilities. The phone lines would be burning up well into the night. The first pass had brought the Gray Brigade up to speed. Second pass was to start applying pressure to the next generation. Make it clear what was acceptable behavior and what wasn't. Within days, the whole damn town would know.

Cheating wasn't the issue. It happened. Hell, probably better than half the group had probably strayed a time or two. Maybe more than a few times. But blatant disrespect, expecting a spouse to accept an ongoing affair, all but abandoning a family while expecting to be able to keep the rest of your life, your family and friends, was too much to ask.

No, they all agreed, it was unforgivable behavior on the part of both cheaters. Make up, or break up, but not this. Disgusting. The 'Me' generation.

They would be reminded, chided, insulted, and condemned where ever they went. No, that kind of behavior couldn't be allowed to spread. 

Responsibilities were divvied up, tasks assigned, options discussed and weighed. 

When the room had nearly emptied, the Colonel sat with five associates. "This is the ugly part. We all understand what's involved? The risk?"

His lifelong friends all agreed. They were up to the task. John Krum took the lead.

Copies of the keys to his house were passed out. Straight from the wife's keychain, to Jenkins hardware, and then in the hands of the perpetrators. Pictures, articles, documentation, love-letters, as much history as they could attain.

Step one was to get more information. They'd receive notice when he was out. The Gray network would keep tabs. Once they'd determined the window of opportunity was right, the first break-in would occur, and they'd collect as much intel as possible. Only then would campaign "Guilt" go into full gear.

A couple of them felt a little uneasy at what they were going to do. Not enough to stop them.

* * *

Susan parked in his garage, closing the door behind her quickly. She took off her hat and sunglasses, embarrassed that she was disguising herself. This was ridiculous. She had every right to see Rich.

She entered the house through the garage, and eagerly accepted his embrace. They didn't speak of anything other than missing each other as they retired to his bedroom, undressing quickly before falling into the bed together.

Half-an-hour and two sessions later, he sat up, staring down at her. "How did you mess things up? Nobody down at the firm will even talk to me."

Susan was stunned by his accusation. How had she messed things up? He uses her to get off, not even caring about her satisfaction, after the nights she'd given him. She confronted her husband, alone, faced his anger and accusations. And now it's her fault? "You wanted to stop hiding. Wanted your overnight stays. It was your idea to tell him, force him to accept us, threaten him with divorce and the kids."

"How the hell did it become everyone's business?" he snapped.

"I don't know. Gossip. He told his family and mine; they're still barely speaking to me. Word must have spead."

"You were supposed to keep it private, just between the two of you. How'd he know it was me? Where I lived?" Rich was livid with anger.

"How the hell do I know? I talked to him just like we discussed. Told him how it was. You're the man, you should have known how he'd react."

"I'm not some neanderthal who can't keep his woman. I'm supposed to remove half my brain to think like him?"

Susan could barely believe his words. The disrespect, the anger. Where did it come from? She started pulling on her clothing, before she said something she'd regret.

Rich reached out for her. "Where are you going? We're not through already. You just got here. It's been a week since we've been together."

"You shouldn't talk about Jonathan like that. He did nothing wrong. He's a good man. We're the ones who want to change the rules."

"Good man? Starting rumors and gossip about us? Ignoring you, disrespecting you? Where's the good in that?" Rich snapped, standing between her and the door.

She buttoned her blouse, and combed her hair back with her fingers. Plenty of time to clean up when she got home. She was thankful that her mother accepted her excuse that she needed to pick up some job applications. "I have to go. I'm going to be late."

He moved toward her, pulling her into his arms. "What about us, Suzy-Q? I miss you. We need some time together. Tell him you'll be spending the night over here. He already knows. We need to reconnect. You're everything to me. You know how much I love you. I can't stand going days on end without you. I need you."

She listened to his pleading, knowing it was true. Without her, he'd be retreating back to his old ways in nothin' flat. She held his face in her hands, kissing him softly. "We'll work something out. No overnights, what would I tell the kids?"

"Foist them off on your parents again."

She sighed. "It'll be a cold day in hell before they'll watch them again. They've made that abundantly clear."

She started to pull away, but he clung to her, needy. "Come over after they go to sleep. I need to feel you in my arms again as I fall asleep. Wake up next to you, your smell in my head, your warmth beside me. Don't you want that?"

She nodded, but if she were honest with herself, she would admit she hated being apart from her children at night. She didn't sleep well in Rich's place. She smiled to herself. She didn't sleep much at all, come to think of it. It was like being a teen again. "Let me think about it, Ok? I've got to get things settled at home before making any more waves."

"How about a quick blowjob before you go? To hold me over?"

His callous words stung her. Was that all she was to him? "I have to go, Rich. I'm going to be late as is. I can't afford to alienate my last baby-sitter."

He was pushing her to her knees. "You promised you'd never deny me, Susan. You said you loved me. I need this. It'll only take a few minutes."

She refused to let the tears fall, as she mechanically sucked his cock, his hands in her hair, forcing his way down her throat, heedless of her discomfort. 

* * *

Max took the call from Madge. Nearly two hours all told, the whore spent with him, sneaking around like a thief in the night.

He called his daughter, berating her. "What the hell were you thinking, Carolyn? Watching the kids while she went to get laid?"

"She said she was looking for a job. Picking up applications."

"And you believed the lying slut, after all she's done?"

Carolyn was not happy when Susan showed up at her door 20 minutes late. She helped get the kids packed up and into the car. Before Susan could leave Carolyn grabbed her arm.

"Never again, you lying slut. Using me to cover for your ass while you screw around on my son?"

Susan trembled at the harsh words. "I... I didn't..."

"Save the lies for somebody else. You reek of sex. You could at least clean up before picking up my grandkids. What the hell is wrong with you?"

In the battle for shame and anger, anger won out. "If you don't ever want to see the kids, that's fine by me. I didn't do anything wrong. You'll never have to watch them again. You'll be lucky to see them."

Susan was rocked back on her feet, when Carolyn's hand whipped across her face. "He's right. You're nothing but a whore."

* * *

Jonathan sat with his Grandfather, after a long hard day. The last thing he needed to hear about was his wife's fucking around on him.

"I don't want to know, Grandpa. Frankly I could care less."

"She had your mother watching the kids. Said she was getting some job applications or some such nonsense."

Jonathan's anger took hold, until his hands were shaking. "Nobody watches my kids unless I say it's Ok. Nobody. Not you, not Mom, not even a neighborhood sitter."

"Don't blame your mother on this. She was trying to do the right thing. She has a right to see her grandkids."

"I don't blame her. It's the lying whore under my roof. I'll talk to Mom myself."

* * *

"Mom, what's a Jezebel?" Cindy asked.

"A... a what?" Susan asked, surprised by her eldest's words.

"Dana's grandma said you were a Jezebel."

Susan felt her blood pressure rising. She had no right. The old bitch had no right talking to her daughter like that.

"It's nothing, baby. Something old people say."

But not in front of her daughter, if she could help it. No more play-dates with Dana. That was for damn sure.

* * *

Rich didn't notice the stares or whispered comments as he entered his old employer's office. It was good to maintain relationships and his standing monthly lunch outing was one way to do that.

He waited in the lobby, patiently. After twenty minutes, he realized something was wrong. As each new person exited the elevator, he'd see the looks, the whispers. None would hold eye contact. Something was up. He made a call.

"Jean? I'm in the lobby, for our lunch," he said.

There was a silence at the other end. "I don't think I'll be able to make it today."

"Something come up? I haven't seen Eric or Dan either."

"It's just not a good idea right now. Things are kind of hectic. Maybe some other time. I'm really busy, I have to go."

Rich listened to the dead air on the other end of the line. 

A quick call to Eric fared no better. "We've had this standing lunch date for over two years, Eric? What's going on?"

He heard anger in the man's voice. "Your girlfriend? You lead us to believe you guys were serious, getting engaged. You never said she was married with three kids. You used us to cover for you. We all feel like idiots now. My wife would kill me if I went to lunch with you. No, I don't think we'll be going to lunch anytime soon."

He looked up from the phone, feeling the eyes on him. He walked toward the revolving glass door, falling in with the crowd exiting the building.

"...a year. She's married..." he heard the whispers from in front of him.

"...cake and eat it too...three kids..." from behind.

"...two million for killing his wife..." echoed in his ears as he hurried down the sidewalk. 

* * *

Late summer was a hard time on the ranch. Dawn to dusk most days, checking fences, working on the irrigation, moving herds from pasture to pasture. Almost time for the second hay cutting, which was breakneck while the weather held.

Uncle Len still abided by Grandpa Max's ways for the most part. Ranching had become largely mechanized, pickup trucks replacing horses for a lot of the work. The Schritters still stood by the practice of driving as infrequently as possible, as short a distance as possible. Gas cost money. For much of the work, horseback was the way to go, especially when it came to moving the herds and the pasture checks.

Jonathan had forgotten how sore a man could get riding a horse 10 hours a day. How tiring it was, hauling around 40 pound packs, digging trenches, replacing fenceposts. He was looking forward to the haying, which mostly involved driving around. 

Most ranch-hands were jack-of-all-trades by necessity. A standard motto on the ranch was "If it's broke, fix it." His experience with machines, engines and anything mechanical was almost revered. No sending out the ranch vehicles for work. If it was broken, Jonathan could fix it.

He might be rusty on the range, awkward herding strays, but his mechanical abilities, and his willingness to do whatever the job took, won the admiration of his fellow hands. He liked that.

He went home each evening, tired, sore and hungry, but he couldn't remember being so satisfied with his accomplishments at the end of each day.

It was only when he got home, and had to face the anger, disrespect and condemnation of his supposed wife and soul-mate, that he'd get down. He braced himself before entering his house each evening, reminding himself of his plans and purpose. It wouldn't last forever, he told himself. 

* * *

The first picture of a charred body was slipped under Rich's door sometime after he'd gone to bed. It was grisly, almost unrecognizable as human. Someone had written in white marker, "Heather Patton. Burned to death, now burning in Hell."

His hands trembled as he picked it up. How could anybody do something so horrible? So heinous? Didn't they know how much he regretted it? How badly it hurt? It was an accident. It wasn't his fault. He'd loved her.

He sat on the floor sobbing, until he fell asleep.

* * *

Susan was unloading the car of groceries. What should have been a simple 20 minute trip took over an hour. The kids had run inside carrying a bag each. 

It had been a painful outing, seeing the glares, the looks of condemnation. Nobody would speak to her, but whispers followed her everywhere. Barely contained laughter in some cases. Did the whole world know of her relationship? 

"Hey Susan!" her nosy neighbor called out, almost running over.

Shit. The last thing she needed. "Hello Margie."

"So what's he like, this young lover? Does he have a huge cock? Can he go all night? What's the scoop?"

Susan felt her face blushing. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Susie. You can tell me. Everyone knows. You and that young lawyer kid, the one who killed his wife. Isn't that scary? Exciting maybe? You don't think he'd do that to you, when he's done with you, do you?"

Susan couldn't believe the bile that was pouring forth from the neighborhood gossip's lips. "It was an accident. He didn't kill her."

"It sure paid off pretty good for an accident. So what is it? I bet he has a huge cock. Ten inches. That's it, isn't it? You wouldn't leave Jonathan for some sad sack if he wasn't amazing in bed. I mean, really! Leave a real man for that scrawny kid?"

Susan slammed the back of the car shut, turned and entered her house without saying another word.

* * *

Jonathan held her in his arms, while she cried in their bed. He felt pretty good about how things were going. "What's wrong, baby?"

"They're horrible. Everyone is horrible to me. They think I'm a slut."

You are a slut. "Shh," he whispered. "Things will get better. You do what's right, and ignore them."

"Why can't they understand? Haven't they ever been in love before? I can't help how I feel."

He had his hand inside her shirt, caressing her breast, cupping it gently. "You still have us. Your family. We love you."




Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 02



She sobbed, "Do you? Do you love me, Jonathan?"

His leg moved between hers, spreading her open, and he was rubbing her pussy softly. His finger glided up and down her moist channel, before sliding inward. "I've always loved you, baby." His lips moved across her neck, nipping gently.

"Love me, Jonathan. Please," she begged.

"God, I wish I could. I want you so bad," he lied, his breath tickling her ear.

"You can. I haven't been with him. Not since that last night. I'm yours, honey."

Still lying. Madge had reported seeing her at his place only a week ago. Three hours there. At least she was lying about it, not throwing it in his face. Progress of a sorts.

"I'm afraid," he said softly. "I know you're not the only woman he's been with. I don't know if he's given you anything, any disease."

She tensed up. "How could you think that?"

"You don't use a condom with him, do you?" Jonathan asked.

"I... I don't want to talk about it," she whined, twitching as his finger pumped inside her, his palm pressing down against her sensitive clit in waves.

"I can't be with you until I know you're clean."

"But we've been doing it for a year, with no problems."

Thanks for reminding me. Slut. "I was checked. I'm clean. It's not fair to risk the lives of both our children's parents. He's fucking other women. Who knows what diseases they may have."

"He wouldn't do that. He loves me."

"You love me, and you did it," Jonathan reminded her.

Her hips were driving up against his hand, and he could feel her getting close, he backed off, rubbing her gently. 

She groaned her need. "I'm your wife, Jonathan. Make love to me. Fuck me. Fuck me, honey."

He pulled her close, hugging her. "How I wish I could, baby. Not until I know you're clean and done seeing him."

* * *

The magazines started showing up. Ms. Cosmo. Good Housekeeping. Southern Living. Homes and Gardens. All addressed to Heather Patton. A constant reminder.

A large picture had been taped to his front door. Her gravestone. Defaced. Under the words Loving Wife, someone had written, 'Murdered and Replaced with a Cheating Slut."

He'd torn the picture into little shreds, and spent hours scrubbing the gravestone clean of the chalk message, long after every speck of writing was gone. The police found him after being called, and questioned him about his actions, threatening him for vandalism.

He went berserk, screaming and crying, and had to be handcuffed before he calmed enough to explain. They checked his ID, and compared it to the gravestone.

One of the officers looked at him in distaste. "Oh, you. The wife stealer. Yeah, we know you."

Three days later, he was scrubbing her gravestone again.

* * *

"Yes, I got your previous messages. No I can't make a payment. I've lost my job and I don't have the money." Max Schritter hung up, grinning.

Third call in two weeks. Things were definitely going according to plan.

He looked at the picture in his hand, smiling. He'd give it to the boy after work. It should help. It didn't prove anything, but should help sow the seeds of discontent.

He examined the papers scattered across his kitchen table. Sightings, comments made, background. Information retrieved from the bastard's house. A wealth of information.

For Max, it was exciting, fun to have something to do. A new purpose, if only temporary. Righting a wrong. Punishing the guilty. Those two were very, very guilty.

* * *

Ranch's don't shut down on weekends. Jonathan worked, but brought his family with him. He lifted his eldest onto the saddle of the old quarter horse.

"Do you really think that's safe?" Susan asked.

"Been doing it for four generations. Buttercup's a gentle horse. She'll take care of our girl."

Cindy was glowing with pride, her hand petting the horse's mane, leaning over and talking to her.

Jonathan took the bridle in his hand and started walking, watching his first-born, seeing how she kept her balance, pushing on her knee to show her how to sit properly. He thought it was funny how the girls always took to riding so readily.

After a few turns, he handed the reins to his baby girl, and let her smile warm his heart. She was getting the handle of it already, shifting in the old western saddle, gliding along with the horse's movements. He saw the change in the horse, a settling. She knew her handler was comfortable, and that made everything right.

"Your turn?" he asked Susan.

"Me? Are you crazy?" she asked.

"C'mon, Susan. Lighten up a little. Try it."

With only a little goading, he had her up in a saddle, explaining things. She was nervous, far more nervous than Cindy had ever been. His daughter seemed like she'd lived in the saddle already. She steered her horse up along side her mother, talking to her, laughing, until Susan relaxed enough to move along at more than a crawl.

Jonathan slipped his foot into the stirrup, and hauled himself up on the big gray. With a cluck, a pat on the neck, and a press of the heels, he took off at a trot, easing back to a gentle walk when he was beside his two girls.

"Not so bad is it?"

"You do this for hours and hours each day?" Susan asked.

"Sometimes. Every day is different. There's times I rarely get out of the garage."

"You like this?" she asked.

"I love it." He looked over at his daughter, seeing the energy, the desire to do more, trot, gallop, become one with her horse. He chided himself for not getting her riding earlier. They were ranchers. Five generations now. It was in their blood. He'd been a fool to deny it.

* * *

Rich sat up in bed, listening. There, the crying, the sobbing, he thought.

It stopped. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Unsuccessfully.

When the soft crying started again, he pulled the pillow over his head, trying to block it out.

"I'm sorry," he weeped.

Outside, John took another sip of the tepid coffee. One more, hour and his shift would end. He adjusted the earphones, and listened to the bastard's whining. He pressed the remote control, starting recording three, the sound of a fire burning.

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" he heard, screaming.

He'd give the bastard five minutes and hit him with number one, the miserable crying. That was a tough one. It sometimes gave him goosebumps, and he knew it was Diane on the recording. 

* * *

"Jonathan?"

He reached over and put his arm around his wife's waist. "Yes, baby?"

"I... I need some money. I'm almost out of gas."

Jonathan pulled his hand away abruptly. "Get it from lover-boy."

"Please. I have an interview down at Jenkins's hardware."

"I didn't know you were looking for a job," he said.

"I'm worried about our finances. Nancy can start kindergarten this year, and I can work while the kids are in school."

"You're not going to use the money to go see lover-boy, are you?"

"No Jonathan. I promise. It's for gas so I can go on the interview and take care of our children. What if there was an emergency? I'm on empty."

He pulled out his wallet and gave her two twenties. "I trust you. Please don't make a fool out of me."

"I wouldn't do that. I love you."

"You've done it before," Jonathan said coldly.

She bowed her head. Why wouldn't Rich return her calls? Was he really seeing someone else? That picture of the slut from his old office, coming out of his house. Him hugging her. Had he replaced her that quickly? They hadn't spoken in over a week. 

"I... I'm sorry."

* * *

Jonathan looked at his paycheck. The 50% he received directly was barely a third of what he'd earned at this old job. It wouldn't even have been that much if Uncle Len hadn't given him a raise when he took over maintenance of all the ranch vehicles. With the money that his Grandfather secretly received, it wasn't much less than he'd earned previously, before the overtime. 

Uncle Len was talking about him getting a share of the profits if he'd stay with the ranch. It was only one percent a year, for the first five years, but that could be a nice little bonus. He'd be a partner. A minor one, but there was a certain pride that came with that. He'd never be a majority owner, that would fall on Len's oldest, although so far Will hadn't shown an interest in taking over the family business. It was the way they did things. But his mother got 10% of the business profits, and if he stuck with it, that could be his one day, as well. 

He hitched up his pants, thinking he'd have to buy some new ones soon. Second time he had to replace them. He didn't know what size his waist was, but he'd had to punch two new notches in his belt. All this field work was changing him.

He joined the rest of the regular workers in a payday drink, at the Spur and Saddle.

Mikey, the giant of a man with the juvenile name, jabbed him in the ribs. "That filly seems to have her eye on you."

Jonathan looked over at the table where three women were seated. The cute little redhead was definitely giving him the eye.

He got the bartender's attention. "What are they drinkin'?" he asked, with a nod at the table.

"Pitcher of Shiner."

"I'll take one."

The old bartender gave him a nod and a wink and placed the pitcher in front of him.

He walked over to the table, and stood beside the empty chair, offering in hand. "Just so you know, I'm not Greek."

The girls looked at each other in confusion, until a smile popped up on the redhead's face. "And you're bearing gifts?" she asked.

He gave her a wink, put the pitcher on the table, lifted the old one, topped off their glasses, and returned with it to the bar.

The blonde was tapping him on the shoulder a minute later. "You're kidding right? You're not even going to join us for a beer?"

"I've sworn off beer," he explained.

She gave a glance at his glass.

Jonathan grinned. "Haven't sworn off Jim Beam yet."

"So bring your Jim Beam over and keep us company."

It was an enjoyable hour, well spent, with pretty girls. He got two phone numbers out of it, and three hugs, one with a nice little kiss. Maybe Grandpa was right. It was the easiest thing in the world.

* * *

Susan's life was turning to shit. She was the laughing stock of the town, ridiculed and insulted everywhere she turned. She had given up getting her fancy coffees and resorted to Dunkin' Donuts. It was all she could afford. She was waiting at the drive through, when the old man brought her the coffee. He took one look at her, and turned away from the window, walking around the corner for a second, before returning with a smirk on his face. He handed it out the window.

"One Cheater's Special," he said, grinning.

Her hand was trembling in anger when she took it. She noticed the lid was loose. She didn't want to think about what he'd done to it. She recalled the scene she'd made when complaining at McDonald's about the service. She'd been humiliated and laughed out of the store, the manager laughing as loud as any of them. 

She glared at the geezer, opened the lid, and poured out the coffee. The bastard smiled. "Maybe you're not as stupid as they say."

* * *

Rich was afraid of plugging his phone in. He never knew when his wife would call again, hounding him, blaming him for her pain and suffering. 

Logically, he knew it wasn't her. But when he was woken from his sleep, that whispering voice begging him to end the pain, all logic abandoned him.

He could feel the eyes on him, everywhere he went. Judging him. Blaming him. Condemning him. 

It wasn't his fault! Why couldn't they understand? It was an accident!

The little notes were the worst. Tiny reminders, in her careful handwriting. "Remember that little bar..." "Do you still have that dress? The one I wore for our anniversary?" "Cancun, Richie, remember Cancun?" "Why, Richie? Why?"

Yes, he remembered it all. He opened the albums that Susan had hidden away, stealing his memories. How beautiful Heather had looked at the rail of the ship. Hiking through the ruins. God, how he'd loved her. And now she was dead. His fault.

He took another drink from the bottle, feeling the burn down his throat. She'd trusted him, and he'd failed her. He never meant to.

"It was an accident, love," he mumbled, tears falling onto the pictures.

* * *

Max, the Judge, the Colonel and John sat going over their notes. The Colonel had his map out, colored dots showing each encounter over the last month. 

"Think he's gonna run soon? Hardly ever out in public anymore," John Krum asked looking over the latest entries.

"He'll break long before she does. Stubborn, she is," Max said. There was a hint of admiration in his statement.

"Maybe we should dial it back, give them both some time to realize how bad they've got it?" the Judge asked.

"Hell no," Max snapped. "She wants to be stubborn, we'll crank it up."

The Judge shook his head. "Judith's not going to be happy about this," he muttered.

The others laughed. "52 years and you're still pussy-whipped?" John teased.

"Least I'm still gettin' some," he said. "How's Rosie doing?"

"Alright, enough," the Colonel said. "We got some calls to make. Take it up a notch." Poor bastards.

* * *

Susan wiped her face in shock. That old woman had spit on her! Spit in her face!

She was sitting outside the coffee shop, where they used to meet. It has been almost two weeks since she'd heard from him. She'd even gotten up the courage to go to his house, but he hadn't answered her knock. His car was there, he must have been around. She used her key and opened the door, but it was chained.

"Rich?" she'd called out. "Rich, honey? It's me."

No reply. The place had a sour smell to it. It looked dark. Maybe he was gone. Gone with that slut from the picture. Driving her car. How could he do that to her? What had she done wrong?

She'd strolled down memory lane, going back to their coffee shop. Where they'd had those long wonderful chats. She'd been sitting there, remembering his voice, his touch. Lost in her recollections.

"Tramp," the woman had hissed, walking by on the sidewalk, just beyond the railing surrounding the drinking area. Susan had looked up just in time to feel the spittle land on her face.

She had been in shock. She heard the whispers around her. The open laughter. She wiped her face with her napkin, tears trailing down her cheeks.

How had her life turned to shit so quickly? She'd had it all. A loving family, a good man, a young love. Great sex. Now? All she had were memories and the hate of everyone she knew. It wasn't fair. What had she done wrong? She couldn't help it. She never had wanted it, never sought it out. It was love. Undeniable. It wasn't her fault. 

She looked up when a college aged kid sat down across from her. He grinned, cheekily. "Pretty lady like you shouldn't be crying. What do you say I buy you a drink?"

She shook her head. "No thanks, I'm married."

He shrugged. "Never heard that stopped you before. C'mon, we'll get a drink or two, have a little fun. You're sure pretty."

Fun? Is that all she was now? "Please, leave me alone," she said.

He stood and leaned over. "You change your mind, we'll be over at the Spur and Saddle. You ever been with three guys? We'll keep you going all night."

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she shrieked at him.

"Jeez, lady! Don't have a cow. Just figured a party girl might like to party. No hard feelings, alright?"

She lowered her face into her hands, and didn't fight the tears.

* * *

Jonathan watched his grandfather place the rope in his son's hands. Showing him how to hold the loop open, how far down to hold the two ropes parallel, a foot or so from the honda, the eye of the lariat. Explaining how to coil it properly, how to hold your off hand. The pole sticking up out of the bale of hay was their target.

It was his third try, swinging the rope at his side, then over his head, learning the timing before casting his arm forward quickly, the loop maintaining its shape at it fell over the pole.

Both he and Susan clapped in appreciation, as did Cindy. Little Nancy was too busy rolling around with Grandpa's old work dog Blue, a 12 year old blue heeler. The ranch standard, he never remembered his grandfather not having at least one. They were working dogs, and lived out doors, but he had a soft spot for the suckers, and when they started limping, getting up slowly and awkwardly after setting a spell, he didn't put them down. 

No, he couldn't do that. They were his friends, and nobody could ever say he wasn't loyal. They moved indoors, got old fat and spoiled. Lived their days out with their one master. Eager for the lightest touch, a single word of praise. Always at his side. Their faithfulness rewarded.

Grandpa reached down and squeezed Joey's shoulder. Jonathan remembered that touch. How good it made him feel.

"Sloppy, but it's a start."

As close to praise as he'd ever be likely to receive. One day he'd learn to treasure it.

He felt Susan lean against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. "He's good with kids. I... I never would have expected that," she said softly.

"He always was. Some of the best days of my life were here, with him and Dad."

"We had some great times, didn't we?" she said, her arm reaching around his waist. It was so nice, together as a family, working with the kids, enjoying being outdoors. 

"We did."

"It's not too late, is it? To have more. As a family. As a husband and wife."

He shrugged. "I don't know, Susan. I honestly don't know."

* * *

Rich stood in the reception area, pleading with the woman sitting there.

"Please, I have to see her. She must have some time in her schedule."

The silver haired woman made a show of checking the calendar. "I'm sorry, Mr. Patton. Dr. Schaeffer is booked solid. Maybe next week... oh, I'm sorry, she's on vacation next week. Perhaps the week after that. You really should call ahead."

"I've tried! You have to get me in. I... I don't know what I'm going to do."

"I'm sorry, sir. That won't be possible for at least two weeks. Would you like to schedule an appointment for then? I can put you down for Thursday, at 3:30, week after next."

"Five minutes. That's all I need. Five minutes. Can she at least renew my prescriptions?"

"She's very busy today, trying to get ready for her vacation. Why don't you go home, and I'll talk to her when I can. We'll give you a call if she can squeeze you in tomorrow, before she leaves."

Rich, nodded slowly, and turned to walk out the door, hunched over in defeat.

Slink away, you filthy wife stealer, Ellen thought. She picked up the phone and called in the contact.

* * *

Susan hung up the phone. She didn't know why she even tried. All she got was a busy signal anymore. He couldn't be on the phone that much. 

Where is he, now that I need him? she thought. 

She'd sacrificed so much to help him. Her time, her fidelity, her family, maybe even her marriage. She had come running any time he called, now he was ignoring her. It wasn't fair. 

What Susan didn't know was that it was a simple matter to block her calls. The last time John Krum was in the bastard's house, he picked up the phone, dialed #60, and maneuvered the menues until both her home phone and cell-phone numbers were blocked. Jonathan had done the same thing to their home phone, and her cell-phone, blocking the bastard's incoming calls.

It would be a cold day in hell, before they'd be calling each other on those phones.

* * *

Jonathan jerked the reins to the side, heading off the stubborn old cow. He looked for some reason she'd shied away from the gate, instead of following the rest of the herd to the new pasture.

She turned, and looked to be headed for the scrub, when Vincent, his cattle dog, nipped at her foreleg, turning her. He saw the tentative shifting of weight, and figured she might have an injury.




Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 02



It took a good bit to get her where he needed. Two ropes around her neck, and an hour of battle had her wearied to the point where it seemed he might safely approach her. A job better handled by two, but they were short that day. He could handle it.

Miguel found him there, treating the cut on her leg, moving closer slowly. Didn't want to spook her.

"Dangerous, alone," the old man said.

"Didn't want her to get into the brush, or turn up lame. Thought I'd have it taken care of an hour ago."

An experienced eye checked over his work, before giving a grudging nod. "You got this?"

"Yessir, I'll have her through the gate within the hour."

"Lock it up behind you."

Jonathan felt a pride in his work, he hadn't felt for far too long. His shoulders ached, his hands were rubbed raw, and he would be lucky to get back before dark. He was happier than he had any right to be.

He removed the ropes, talking softly, calming the cow. Vincent was laying down a couple of feet away, patiently. He rubbed the young dog's head, praising him for this work. "Good boy, Vincent."

He smiled, recalling Joey picking out the name. His son thought the dog's hair color, a blue, black and grey mix, along with a largish light grey spot on his side, looked like Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night. Jonathan didn't see it, but he was proud the boy even knew who Van Gogh was. Grandpa agreed that Vincent was a better name than 'Dog'.

* * *

She was wearing a filmy negligee, the outline of her red panties barely visible. She looked nervous as she handed him the drink.

"Where are the kids?" Jonathan asked.

"With your mother."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"Until morning. Please don't be mad. I... we need some time alone."

He could smell the steak from the broiler. He was starving. Then again, he always was of late. Hard labor does that to a man.

She pulled him over to his chair, and struggled cutely to get his boots off. She landed on her butt, when the second came free, and he had to laugh at the image of her, dressed for play, with his dusty boot in her hand, sitting on the floor with her legs splayed, the tiny red bikini panties on display.

She got up and called him to the dinner table. His plate had a large T-bone, with a loaded baked potato. Hers had a small fillet, and some asparagus. One of the perks of working on a ranch. Plenty of beef, all free. 

There was a piece of paper above his plate.

He picked it up, and she said softly. "I'm clean. I haven't seen him since that night. I won't be with him anymore."

He stood up and walked around the table, giving her a hug. "I'm sorry. I know this is difficult for you."

She shook her head. "No, don't apologize. I'm sorry. I... I don't know how it happened. Please forgive me."

He picked her up in his arms, and she squealed cutely. "The dinner!"

Jonathan carried her to their bedroom. "We'll reheat it."

It had been almost two months. Two months since either of them had sex. Jonathan got carried away, tearing the panties off of her, and thrusting inside her desperately, only moments after she'd managed to get his clothes off.

She cried out for him, her hands floating across his skin, touching, feeling, remembering. He was harder, like he had been back then, muscled, huge, looming over her. Her own cowboy. She felt the pain of his thrusts, his hips pounding against her, pressing her backward. Her fingers slid across his smooth head, running through his beard, across his neck, fingers fluttering across his cheek.

Jonathan leaned over her, staring down into the face of the woman who had betrayed him, choosing another over him for a year. He hammered his aching cock into her as hard as he could, punishing her. Pussy was pussy. He'd fucked a whore before.

She whimpered, moaning, taking the beating and relishing it. Feeling his strength, his power, dominating her. The feel of him inside her, filling her. Each stroke driving her passion higher until she was whining, moaning, begging him to make her come.

Her gasping cry made him wonder how many times the bastard had wrenched such a noise from her. He slowed down, pounding long hard strokes into her cheating cunt. He growled his anguish and erupted deep inside her, filling her.

She was still gasping when he put his cock in front of her mouth. She looked up at him nervously, but didn't dare deny him. He wasn't asking, she understood. She opened her mouth, the slimy texture disturbing. She sucked, moving further down his rod, her tongue reaching out and cleaning beyond her lips. She felt his hand in her hair, holding her, while he pressed forward.

Susan gazed upward into his hard eyes. Forgive me she tried to convey, doing her best to clean him and ready him for more. He firmed up between her lips and she fought back the gagging, trying to swallow, relaxing her jaw, as he penetrated the top of her throat for the first time. She almost choked, but wouldn't pull away. Not this time.

Jonathan felt more of his cock penetrate her mouth than ever before. Sliding into her tight throat, her lips pressed against the very base of his cock. Was this something that bastard had taught her? She'd never done it before.

He pushed her off his cock, flipped her over onto her knees, and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He entered her easily, and fucked her with a force driven by anger.

Susan couldn't believe how excited she was. He was taking her, claiming her back. She was his, however he wanted. She moaned for him, on every stroke, feeling his hard body slamming against her ass. Driving into her. Filling her exquisitely. His hands, strong and rough, holding her hips, pulling her back with each stroke, intensifying it.

Once more she felt that wonderful feeling building, a giant crescendo, until she was shrieking, coming for her man, yielding to him. It was the most intense she could ever remember, no mercy, no down-time, a constant high, making her come over and over again, helpless.

Jonathan ran his hand across her hips, over her tight little ass. He wasn't the only one who'd lost weight, he realized. She must have dropped 20 pounds. Damn, she hadn't looked this good since before Cindy.

He pulled out and pushed her onto the bed. He lifted one leg, straddling the other, while she lay on her side, trembling. He entered her again, clinging to her thigh, fiercely hammering inside of her. He reached down and rubbed her clit, wanting to feel her coming for him again. Over and over. Let her see who the better lover was.

She was moaning, crying, begging him to fuck her, and he did everything he could to oblige her. When he couldn't hold back any longer, he rammed in as far as he could and yielded to the inevitable.

They ate naked, and he had her blow him for dessert. Sitting at the table, his chair turned to the side, sipping his drink while she brought him ever closer to his finish. He thought about stopping her, finishing it in the bedroom, but it felt too good. Too right. He leaned back, closing his eyes as the end approached. She didn't stop, didn't hesitate, taking his seed in her mouth, sucking him dry in penance.

Afterward, he tilted her chin up so she would look at him. He offered her his drink and she shook her head, no. "I want to taste it," she said softly.

They showered together, and he held her in his arms, as they drifted off to sleep. I'm going to miss this.

* * *

Susan walked out of the back door of the ranch, looking for her kids. Her feet ached from standing all day, but she was back with her family now.

She saw the group of men, gathered in a circle inside the fence. She started rushing forward when she saw there was some kind of fighting going on. Len's wife, Grace, was leaning against the fence. She grabbed Susan's arm.

"Leave 'em be."

"What's going on?" Susan asked desperately. She spotted her son standing beside Jason Krum, one of the boys in Cindy's class. When Joey turned, she saw her son had a black eye, and swollen lip. Strangely he was grinning.

"They're learning your boy some lessons on self-defense," Grace explained, hanging onto Susan's tense arm.

"I don't want him fighting!"

"I don't imagine you want him getting his ass kicked."

Susan was surprised to see her daughter Cindy walk out with a tray of drinks. The 10 year old walked over and stopped in front of her brother, letting him choose first. Then she turned to Jason, blushing as she offered him one.

"What's this all about? Cindy would sooner kick Joey's butt then wait on him. They fight like cats and dogs."

Grace tugged Susan over to the railing, her arm around her waist. "He saved her bacon. Fought for her. Got his little butt kicked for it."

Susan gasped. "He... he doesn't fight. We don't allow that."

"Good thing he did today. Couple of boys from school figured that since Cindy was her mother's daughter, she'd be easy, fool around. Caught her behind the bleachers. Had her shirt off before your boy waded into them, little fists flying. That's how Jason tells it. He heard the shouting and found two of the little bastards holding Joey down and beating on him. There was no quit in him, though, he kept gettin' up, goin' back for more. Jason evened things up."

"They're just kids! Fighting doesn't solve anything. They should have gone to the teachers."

Grace looked at her in disgust. "Are you stupid? She'd be soiled goods by now if they went that route. The little assholes would probably get lectured. Maybe not even that. Sometimes a man's gotta stand up for what's right. Even if he only stands belt high."

"He could have gotten killed!"

"Doesn't change things. You should be proud of him. Sticking up for family. Protecting his sister like that. The men'll make sure he knows how to hold up his end in a fight. You leave the boy alone now. This is their world."

Cindy walked over to where the two of them stood, leaning against the railing, watching.

"You alright, baby?" Susan asked hesitantly.

"Mmhmm," her daughter replied absentmindedly, her attention firmly focused on the crowd. "Isn't he great, Momma?"

Her daughter's look of infatuation wasn't lost on her. "Who, Cindy?"

"Jason. The way he beat the tar out of the those jerks. They'll never mess with me again. Not as long as Jason and Joey are around."

Susan didn't hear Max walking up behind her. "Hell of a kid you raised, Susan. Whatever else anyone says about you, they can't take that away. You can be proud of your son. I know I am."

She watched her boy get off the ground again, brushing his jeans off, while one of the ranch-hands lifted his arm up, showing him how to hold it. She wanted to run out there, hug him, hold him, protect him. She watched her little boy kick out with his boot, and follow up with a big haymaker. He'd fought to protect his sister. Against older boys, three on one. So much like his father.

"I am proud of him. Don't let him get hurt, Max. Please?"

Max laughed. "It ain't him you should be worried about. Boy's got sand. No quit in him whatsover."

"Where's my husband? Why isn't he here?"

"Irrigation problem. He probably doesn't even know what's going on yet. He'll be back soon enough. Ranch don't shut down over one little fight."

Susan recalled Grace's words about Cindy being her mother's daughter. Easy. Her reputation, making her little girl a target. It wasn't fair. None of it was. Now the kids were suffering for it. Would her nightmare ever end?

* * * 

"Oh God, this is going to be a bad one," Officer Banks said, holding a handkerchief up to his nose.

His partner reached into his pocket and pulled out the Vick's and rubbed a little under each nostril. He passed the container to the younger guy. The kid would learn.

They called out again, getting no reply. The house was a mess, papers scattered, dirty plates in the living room and kitchen. The smell was strongest from the back of the house. They followed it into a bedroom, eyes watering from the stench.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Banks gasped. "That's seriously fucked up."

The naked man was lying in a pile of photographs, some large, some small. Letters were scattered at his feet. The bottle of vodka, less than half full, and the empty prescription pill containers told them all they needed to know. That and the stench of death. The mirrors in the room had been broken, and they could see the dried blood on the guy's hands where he must have hit them.

"Never could understand how a man could take his own life, over some broad," Officer Gilroy said, shaking his head.

He turned to his protégé. "Call it in. Nothing else for us here."

* * *

Jonathan sat with the Eagles, all of their gazes turned on him.

"Figured he'd run. Not take the coward's way out," Grandpa said. "Get away from that house and all the memories around here. It wasn't what I wanted. Maybe he really was depressed."

Jonathan shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. Bastard had it coming."

"Do you still want to go through with the rest?" his grandfather asked.

Carl Jenkins spoke up. "She's doing a good job at the store. It'll be a shame to let her go. You and the family are all she talks about now. I... I don't know if it matters, but she sure seems like she loves you."

Jonathan nodded. "I believe she does, or as much as she can understand the concept. No, this doesn't change anything. She's back now, but who knows when she'll try that shit again. I want to move ahead. Finish it."

His grandfather reached out and gave his wrist a painful squeeze. Those old hands could crush walnuts. They could make paste out of his bones. Jonathan understood. It was as close to a hug as he'd ever get. "It's going to be hard on the kids. They're good, you know. Don't know how they ever came out of that bitch, but they did."

"I know," Jonathan told him. "I'm not going to lock her out of their lives. I... I just can't get past what she did. For a fuckin' year."

* * *

Susan was tired, but feeling better about things. It had been over three months since her world had blown up. It had been hard. Torturous to be honest. Things were getting better. The time on the ranch with the kids was good for them, healing. 

She grinned to herself. The sex. Nothing to complain about there. Never better. Wilder, more passionate, more frequent. He came home tired from working the ranch, but rarely too tired to give her a late night workout. His energy was out the roof, and she was the lucky recipient of it.

She knew that her decision to open up to new things, do all the things she'd done with Rich, and more, was helping. She gave her butt-cheeks a little clench, feeling the delicious soreness. She couldn't take that too often, but Jonathan had loved it. He deserved it. All of her. 

He loved her. He'd forgiven her. Last night he'd held her, afterward, kissing her. Kissing had been missing. She understood his reluctance, and melted in his arms when his lips met hers.

The words had been almost a whisper, into her ear. "I love you, Susan. I always have. I always will. I want you to know I forgive you. Forgive you for everything. I'm sorry."

She had burst into tears, hugging him desperately. His strong arms held her, supporting her.

He'd taken her again, gently, long and slow. Love. He'd made love to her, his lips caressing hers, looking into her eyes, salty tears falling on her face. The passion of his release had been unbelievable, making her come with him, hanging on for dear life, in danger of losing her mind.

It was going to be alright. Better than alright.

* * *

Jonathan got home early for once. It was culling time, but the morning rains killed that. Uncle Len knew it was a big day for him, so he sent him on his way.

He spotted the for-sale sign on the front lawn. The house had gone to foreclosure. They had 30 days to vacate. Half the kids' stuff had already been moved into his Grandfather's house, slowly, quietly. Rooms for when they stayed over on the weekend, they'd been told.

He knew it would be hard. It shouldn't be. She was a lousy cheating slut. But eleven years, three children, and a few months of repentance took the edge off some of the pain. Some. Not enough.

He showered, dressed in his best shirt, clean jeans. He looked at his tan face in the mirror, trimmed his beard, and inspected himself. A new man looked back at him. A better man in many ways, but sadder. It wasn't what he'd ever wanted for his life.

He went back to the living room, opened a bottle of her favorite wine, and poured two glasses. He placed them on the coffee table, the papers stacked neatly to the side. Jonathan adjusted their placement for the second time.

She did this. Not me. He only had to remember her, the way she spoke to him that first night. Her great lover. Who understood her. Threatening him. Walking out of their house and going to the bastard's bed, leaving him in that unbearable pain. What kind of evil selfish bitch would do that? 

Remembering burned away any doubts he might have had.

The door opened, and he stood nervously.

"Jonathan? Why's there a for-sale sign on our house? Are we moving?"

He walked over, took her by the hand and sat her down.

"Baby," he said, the word catching in his throat. "There's something we have to talk about."

She glanced down at the table, the two wine glasses. The stack of papers next to them. She looked at the papers again, her eyes finally recognizing the words. "Original Petition for Divorce."

She turned and looked into his eyes. Searching for sorrow, or anger, she saw emptiness.

"Why?" she asked, trembling.

"You cheated on me for a year, Susan. Insisted I accept it. I'm not made that way. I'm sorry."

She could barely breathe, her hands shaking. "But... but you said you loved me. That you forgave me."

"I do love you. I always will. You were my first true love, and the best wife a man could ask for, for nine wonderful years. The mother of my beautiful children. A terrific mother. I do forgive you. Forgive you for all of it. But that's not enough."

"Please don't do this, Jonathan. You don't want a divorce. It will get ugly. I'll fight it every step of the way. I swear I will. I want my family. I don't want a divorce."

"It's done. Filed. The official process server will be here shortly to serve you. We have 30 days to leave the house. I'll take the kids to Grandpa's, he has the space for them, and you know they love the ranch. I won't keep you from them. We'll have joint custody, and you can see them all you want."

"No! You won't take my kids! I have rights."

"Where are you going to live with them? How are you going to take care of them?"

"Here. I'll keep them here. I'm not going to let you sell my house. Never."

"It's not our house anymore. It's the banks. It's in foreclosure."

She stared at him in shock, trying to absorb his words. "Foreclosure? How?"

"I haven't paid the mortgage in four months. I don't make enough money anymore."

"But... but that's not possible! How come I didn't know?"

"Because I didn't want you to."

She understood then. It had been divorce all along. He never intended to give her a chance. It was all planned. "How could you lead me on like this? For four months? Lying to me. How could you?"

"I just had to remember the two years you lied to me. A year of going to another man's bed, giving him your love, your affection. Making a mockery of our marriage. It was pretty easy, really."

She felt the anger growing. "I'm still their mother. The courts will give them to me. You know they will. I'll make your life hell, Jonathan. You'll never see them if you do this. I swear you won't."

"Where will you live? How will you take care of them?" he asked softly.

"I guess I'll go back to Rich. He'll take me in. He loves me." She knew there wasn't much chance of that. He'd cut off all communications. Still, once she explained...




Something... Talk About in Tx Ch. 02



"You don't know?" Jonathan asked, concern on his face.

"Know what?"

"Rich is dead. Suicide. Sleeping pill overdose."

Susan heard the words, fighting hard not to believe them. Deep down she knew it was true. Without her, he would have slipped back into his depression. She remembered how he was after she left him the first time. It wasn't her fault. She tried to talk to him. See him. He's the one that cut her off. She'd tried. She went to see him. She did. She never wanted to end it like they had, going silent like that. Oh, God! Was he dead, even then? How long? Why? Was it just her leaving? Did he get the treatment she had? Oh no, he couldn't have survived that. Not in a million years. He wasn't strong enough. Not without her by his side. Maybe it was a lie. That was it, Jonathan was lying to her, trying to hurt her, like she'd hurt him. It had to be a lie, didn't it? He couldn't be dead. Not Rich...

Jonathan held her, waiting for the shakes to stop. The glazed look in her eye, the unresponsiveness. "Susan," he kept repeating softly. "Susan."

Eventually her breathing calmed, and he felt her lean into him. She started crying, softly, then harder. He pulled her close, holding her.

"He is dead, isn't he?" she finally breathed.

"Five days now. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

"What am I going to do now?" she whined pitifully.

"I imagine your parents will take you in, at least temporarily. You have your job; you're still a beautiful woman. You'll find somebody, someone who ca accept what I couldn't. You can see the kids all you want."

"I want them with me," she said.

"I know. Your parents don't have the space. I don't know how you're going to afford a big enough house for the four of you. You don't want them living three to a room, do you?"

She shook her head. 

"Grandpa has plenty of space. Miguel's niece will take care of the house and watch the kids when I'm not around. Grandpa's not happy with you, but he's agreed to allow you free access to the house, and the kids."

"You... you could help me. Child support and alimony will make it possible."

"I earn less than twenty grand a year now. I could pay maybe, maybe $500. It won't be enough. They have the run of a huge house, ten thousand acres of back yard. They won't want for anything. Grandpa has a lot of money. He's crazy about them. What can you offer them?"

"They're my children," she sobbed.

"Yes they are, and they still will be."

"Why can't we go back to the way things were, Jonathan? We love each other. Things have been so good the last couple of months. I made a mistake. Don't punish me forever. I never meant for it to happen."

"I'm sorry. I could never trust you again. I'd always be wondering when you were going to fall into someone else's bed. Come home to me, stinking of sex, another man's seed filling you. I can't do it. I don't want to. I'm moving on now, and it's time for you to, as well."

"I can't. I know I can't. I'll die without my family. No reason to live."

"I hope you don't. It would be hard on the children."

"The children? Don't you care?"

"Of course I do. Unfortunately that's not enough. Your betrayal was too thorough. Too complete. You destroyed me."

She shook, hearing the condemnation in his words. "And now you're going to destroy me."

"Yes."

* * *

She tried to fight it, but she didn't have the heart for it. She was broken. Her parents sided with her, angry at Jonathan for denying her the children. Over a long, painful dinner, he managed to make it clear to them they could see the kids whenever they wanted. Susan could have unlimited access to them. When she pulled herself together, if she had the space for them, they would work out shared custody.

Dinner was at his grandfather's house, and it was obvious the kids were happy there. Three new puppies kept them entertained. Cindy was riding every day, and insisted in showing her grandparents her new horse. Joey was proud as could be, wearing what the ranch hands wore, his boots dusty, his small Stetson dirty and curled on the sides of the brim. Nancy sat in her great-grandfather's lap, happy as a clam while he read to her, giving them time to talk. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and everybody knew it. The crotchety old man had finally met his match.

They were home. Happy. She couldn't take that from them. She signed the papers, and moved forward with her sad, squalid life.

There was no alimony. She made as much money as he did. On paper. He didn't ask for child support, and offered joint custody, with him as the primary caregiver. They had virtually nothing to split, except for a few pieces of furniture that Jonathan kept in back, for whenever she wanted them. At the end, he gave her a check for half of their equity, $1120. Eleven years, $112 a year.

Susan lost her job at Jenkins Hardware, the week after the divorce was final. Times were tight, she was told, and she was one of the newest hires. She laid at home in her childhood bed, wondering at what had happened to her life. She had it all. Now she had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

Jonathan looked down at the beautiful red hair, cascading over his crotch. Aideen wasn't the most talented, he'd have to credit Gina with that, but you had to give her an 'A' for effort. She certainly was willing.

He was more than hard enough, as he lifted her bodily into the air, giving her a quick kiss on the lips, and laying her down on the bed. He opened her legs and went in for another quick taste. His previous effort had yielded two pretty spectacular orgasms, but he wasn't done with the little fire crotch yet.

"Fuck me, already, you beast," she laughed, squirming, trying to pull him up the bed.

God, she was tight. Deliciously so. Twenty-three friggin' years old, and tight as a middle-schooler. He continued working his way in, until he was fully sheathed, stretching her.

"Jesus, Jonathan, how did she ever give this up," the young beauty asked.

He put the thought out of his mind. The first 6 months, that would have had him wilting and feeling sorry for himself. Not any longer.

She was a talker, urging him on, telling him what she needed, begging him to do it harder whenever she got close. He loved the way she responded, the way her perky little nipples on her tiny tits stood tall. The way her body trembled as she came for him.

"Just like that, lover," she crooned, thrusting back against his long steady strokes. "So good," she moaned a few moments later.

She was getting close, and he lifted her hips, slamming into her.

"Ride me, cowboy," she begged. "Hard, ride me hard."

He knew he had her then, and pounded that sweet tight hole, until she gave him her beautiful release. He was content. He always tried to make sure he got his girls off at least once, before he went for his own pleasure. 

He leaned over her, letting his weight come down on her, feeling her arms clinging. His hips drove in and out, corkscrewing, stretching out her insides. She whimpered, her fingers digging into this flesh. She'd probably give him another nice little orgasm. She usually did. But that didn't matter now, this one was his. He'd earned it.

She came for him, grunting, but he rode right through it, nearing his finish. Pumping fast, his breath ragged, thighs feeling the strain. He groaned, and slammed his cock home, exploding inside her.

They lay together, catching their breath. "You need to leave anytime soon?" Jonathan asked.

"No. I can stay as long as you want," she said cautiously.

He knew she was offering to stay over, but he wasn't ready for that. She was a great little fuck, pretty as a picture, but she drank too much, and didn't seem like the nurturing type. And that temper! Not the best mother material. Not like Katy, sweet Katy, the most loving of all of them so far. If only she could have kept her trap shut every once in a while, that, and learned to suck cock. Did she really think she was too good for a blowjob? She was happy enough to have him go down on her. And her laugh? Like fingernails on a chalkboard.

He rolled over and sucked Aideen's cute little nipple into his mouth. "Round two?"

* * *

Susan met with her grandmother. They sat in the parlor, and had tea together.

"You look terrible, dear," Grandma Bridget said.

"I know," Susan answered softly, unable to meet her grandmother's eyes. She remembered the harsh words, condemning, insulting her. Her grandfather still wouldn't acknowledge she was alive.

"It's been over a year, Susan. You've got to let it go. Move on with your life. You're still young, barely 30."

"Thirty-five, Grandma."

The old woman laughed. "A baby. God, what I wouldn't give to be 35 again."

"Want to trade places?"

"No dear. Not in a million years. I could never do that to your grandfather. He deserves better."

"Am I that terrible?"

"No honey. You did a terrible thing. You can get past that." She took a sip of her tea. "Did you just come over for a visit, or did you want something."

Susan looked up at the older woman. Fifty-six years of marriage. She might have the answers.

"I want him back, Grandma. I know he's lonely. He dates, but never for long. I see the way he looks at me at Sunday dinner. We were perfect together. I was an idiot. I threw it all away. I want him back. I want my family back."

"That's a lot to ask, sweetie. You done him wrong. Very wrong. A man has his pride, and you did your best to destroy his."

"I know. I'll do whatever I have to. Do you think it's possible? Am I just dreaming?"

The older woman sat back, looking at her daughter's child. Broken. She was broken, not even a shadow of the happy girl she was once. Still, 35 years old, pretty if she wanted to be, nice figure. She'd made him love her once. She'd paid the price, and maybe she'd learned. Just maybe.

"It's going to be difficult you know. Getting him to fall back in love with you."

Susan perked up at the words. Difficult, but not impossible. "Whatever it takes Grandma. I swear. There's nothing I won't do. Just tell me what I have to do. Anything! Please!"

Bridget looked up at the mantle, at the picture of her with her four best friends. Cheerleaders, all those years ago. The most popular girls in school. The original Fab Five. All married now, Emma celebrating her 50th anniversary last month. Josephine on her second husband, ten years now. May Darren rest in peace. Her Jimmy was a good man, but that Darren, he'd been special. Amazing. Thank God, he'd gone to the grave keeping her secret. She still felt shame for that lost weekend, shame and excitement. 

Fifty-five years after high-school, and the five of them were still the best of friends. Still turned heads. What they didn't know about men wouldn't fill a teacup.

"Let me make a few calls, we have a lot of work ahead of us, you understand?"

==========================

Sorry. I'll leave it to you the reader to decide. Has she paid enough? Will she be able to win him back? Has Jonathan moved on? Like his Grandfather told him, finding a new woman was the easiest thing in the world. Right? Was it as easy to find the right one?

Me, I'm a hopeless romantic. It's true. I bear the stigma with shame. It would be expensive, but in the end, she'd probably manage it. It's the kids, you know. The bond that will never break. Without them, she'd be so much dog-meat. I'd like to think with the Gray Brigade backing her this time, she'd have a chance. 

I'm not the only romantic.

I'd love to hear what you think of my version of the ending to Nici's warped little tale. Comments and votes are always appreciated.