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Talk of the Town!

By: dangerouslydead



As I entered the house I was made aware that my plan had been successful. My wife and her boss, Ross, were lying naked in living room completely passed out. Their rather public affair had made me a topic of conversation in the community. Before that, however, I was planning on making their life very complicated and uncomfortable. I was going to make sure that they knew the pain of humiliation and betrayal.

I injected both of them with Sodium Pentothal and rendered them fully unconscious. Once I had them at my mercy, I went to work. First of all I went to the kitchen and got a large bag of ice. I placed the bag of ice on his penis so that it may do its magic. Pretty soon he will be even smaller than he actually is. I often wondered why Nelly hooked up with him. He is no looker and has a penis that can make you giggle at sight (if you are a woman). Once I had his future frozen, I turned my attention to Nelly.

Here was the love of my life who could not keep her legs closed. My mind went back to the days when we were in love and exclusive to each other. She was a beautiful woman and I am sure that many would thank me in days to come to fuel their masturbatory material. It would be a blitzkrieg that the town would not forget anytime soon.

When his dick was shrunk to almost child size and his testicles had almost disappeared I went about taking a series of extremely humiliating pictures. It was not going to be easy to let it slide off his back like water on a duck. I put a strap on dildo on her and took some images of the dildo in and around his asshole. I had to make sure that I did not push the dildo far enough inside him to leave a trace. He was not supposed to know that these photos existed. Not yet, at least. I also took a series of photographs showing them naked on the living room couch and her fucking him. It took a lot of pillows to prop them up properly but then we had plenty of those in the living room.

Once done, I simply left the room and went back to my motel. I was going to enjoy this for all its worth and they were going to sweat it out. The next day I sent one photograph of the two of them naked to their work email and copied it to the human resources department of their company. There was nothing written in that mail ... just an attached photo. The subject line read "Next time it goes to your spouses."

They waited all day for the HR department to summon them but they never did. Looks like the blackmailer had spelled the email address incorrectly. At 5 in the evening, just half an hour before they were to leave the office they received another mail. This time the mail had just some text and no photos.

"Tomorrow Ross will carry a large woman's handbag when he comes to the office and Nelly will wear one of her Husband's perfumes."

I had plans to make their lives as interesting as possible. Meanwhile, I was going to sit on the sidelines and take digs at them without showing my hand. The next day as she got ready for the office I noticed her searching frantically for any of my perfumes. I had hidden all of them the night before, so there was no chance of her finding it. She could not ask me outright so she came up to me and started to help me dress. When I was dresses she asked me if I was out of perfume because she wanted to apply some to me. I told her that there must be one in my travel bag. She took it out and after applying it on me applied it on her cloths and said, "I want to be able to breath in your smell all day." Yeah, right.

Another victory when he turned up at the office carrying a woman's handbag. I am sure that he made all the right noises to justify carrying it but I had a picture of him walking into his office with a woman's handbag.

That day, at precisely 5 in the evening, they received another mail and another set of instructions. This time they had another photo to look at - after all they had to know I had an unlimited supply of these images.

"Tomorrow Ross will wear a woman's slip and hair curlers while taking the trash out. Nelly will wear one of her Husband's boxer shorts while getting the newspaper from the front porch."

Next morning I had two wonderful pictures. Of course I could not be at both the places so Ross' wife took his photo for me. And you thought I was alone in all this!

I was getting replies from both of them. The replies ranged from angry to pleading and from abusive to super abusive. I was ignoring them, of course. With each email I also pushed in some misspelled email addresses to let them know that the blackmailer knew where it would hurt the most.

For the next few days they did kept up their morning routine. One day Ross was wearing a stiletto while taking the trash out and the other day he had lipstick on. Meanwhile I was making snide remarks about Nelly wearing more of my stuff to bed and Rita was keeping Ross on his toes with remarks about him getting in touch with his feminine side. She even went so far as to sit down and have a serious conversation with Ross about his cross dressing tendency. He squirmed and squirmed but then came up with a lame excuse about wanting to know her side of life too. He said that he was trying to be a more compassionate husband. No Shit! She was not buying it so he had a tough time selling it and came out feeling unsure if the excuse was sold.

The last day of their torment they were asked to visit Studio 55, a bar famous for being alternate lifestyle couples' hangout. Their entry and exit were well recorded for posterity and then the emails stopped for a week. After a week they were asked to plan a two day trip to visit their suppliers.

As soon as their plane took off I swung into action. I had a presentation ready outlining how Ross was a woman trapped inside a man's body and how Nelly was indeed a dom who wanted to fuck a man in his ass and since her husband was too much of a man to comply to something like that she had tapped on Ross and had been fucking him all the time in the ass. The size of his penis in the photographs also left little doubt that he was hardly someone to go for if a woman was looking for hot sex.

By the time they landed this mail was in every inbox that I knew of and then I, like the outraged husband that I was, called her phone at least a hundred times before she landed and picked up the phone.

"How could you do this to me? With Ross?" I shouted as she picked up the phone. There was a good sized crowd outside my office and they could hear everything as I had the conversation over speaker phone.

"What are you talking about?" She asked me, hoping it was not her worst nightmare. It was not her worst nightmare, it was beyond it - she would never have thought that she would be portrayed as an ass fucking dom and her boyfriend would come out looking like a girlfriend.

"I am talking about the images of the two you fornicating. Was he a much better man than me?" I baited and hoped this variable fell in the right slot.

"He is not half the man you are. I am so sorry. I will be flying back on the next flight. Please don't jump to conclusions. I love you." She said as she realized that I was a better bet than her fuckwad.

All my office heard that he was not half the man I was and that was my vindication. Now, no one can say that I was not man enough to take care of my wife. She strayed because she wanted a sissy. It would be up to them to go around convincing over 300 people who received the mail and another 3000 or so who just saw it somewhere. They could go around shouting from rooftop that their relationship was not like that and no one would believe.

I was sitting in the living room with my parents, her parents, Rita, Rita' parents and Ross' parents as Nelle entered the house. One look at them and she knew that I was not the only recipient of the mail. Ross reached my house about fifteen minute later after reading the notice that Rita had left on the door.

Nelly poke up, "This is not a forum in which we should talk. We are a couple and we should discuss our matters in private."

"We are not a couple, we are a part of a majestic drama in public forum. If you want to talk about why you so casually tossed our marriage in the trash, I don't want to hear it. If we were to stay together and if then, we will go to a party I would never enjoy myself because I will always be watching you to see if you will try to sneak out to someone's back seat. When you leave the house I will keep wondering if you are meeting someone. When I call home during the day and you don't answer the phone I'll paint the worst picture possible. And you know the worst part of it is that I know in my heart that one of these days you will betray me again." I just did not want anything to do with her anymore.

"Please believe me it didn't mean anything, it was just sex. You're the only one I love. Agreed, I've been a stupid bitch. I got a charge out of doing something so naughty. I will spend the rest of my life paying for this indiscretion."

"After the presentation that is floating around, trust me when I tell you that you will be paying for this indiscretion for a long time. I will not have the guts to carry on being your husband after what has transpired. I am sorry but I want out." I spoke and walked off. Meanwhile, I could see Rita taking Ross' happiness. They were talking in the kitchen and the only voice I could hear was of Rita.

From the living room I could hear the booming voice of Nelle's father. He was using every word that was ever rejected by Websters and then some. No one but Rita and I knew the truth, the whole truth. Tomorrow, Ross and Nelle will have to face the rest of the world too. How do you think that is gonna go?

Talk of the Town



Hey Folks, Happy Thanksgiving, 

I wrote this one with the idea that it would be a nice long Holiday read. It's a bit different from my usual Turkey Day stories. Believe it or not this time the turkey survives. There is no flying food in this story. It is a long one, so those of you who just need a quick two page story should steer clear of it. This year as usual, I'm thankful to have all of you out there reading this and all of my other stories. I'm thankful for my wife and my family and Mustangs. I'm also thankful for Barney-R editing this story and all of the other ones, while writing great stories of his own. Those of you who haven't read his latest one, should look for it. Anyway, here we go. SS06.

* * * * * *

Sarah 

The tingles started in my pussy and radiated outwards until they filled my entire body. I was lying on my side with him behind me. He lifted one of my thick legs over my head to give him access to my core. I slammed my big ass against him just as hard as he slammed his dick into me. 

The wet squishy sounds of body hitting body filled the room. His grunts, and my moans were barely louder than the smacking sounds that we made every time we slammed into each other. 

"Fuck me harder," I moaned. "Come on give it to me." 

He was puffing away as if he was on the verge of exhaustion. "Come on yourself Sarah," he wheezed. "I've already fucked you three times. I'm dead." 

"You're only twenty years old," I said. "Besides, the second time was in my ass. That doesn't count." 

"How the hell does Mr. Miller keep up with you?" he gasped. 

"My husband loves me," I said seriously. "He would push himself until he had a heart attack to please me if I needed him to. But I think he's just in better shape than you are. He runs a lot." 

"Well maybe you should get home and wait for him to come home and finish you off," he wheezed. "I'm drained. And I do have a girlfriend that I occasionally screw." 

"You already told me that she hardly ever gave you any," I said. "What are the chances that she'll be in the mood tonight?" 

"We'll surely your iron man husband will be ready to go all night when he gets home," he said. "If he floats your boat so much, why do you need me?" 

"Get over yourself," I snapped. My anger flashed so quickly that it surprised even me. "Dennis, makes love to me. What he gives me is romantic and emotional. He gets me off without thinking about it. I LOVE HIM ... like there's no tomorrow!" 

"I'm sorry Sarah," he said. "I didn't mean anything by it." 

"No Brad," I said. "You're right. This has gone on for far too long. You just reminded me of something that I guess I forgot." 

"What are you talking about, Sarah?" he asked. "Don't take me seriously. I'm just exhausted. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." 

"Brad, I love my husband. You were only a distraction. Sometimes I feel old and fat. Sometimes I need to just have some no-strings fun, or to try some wilder, weirder sex, you know? But I've been feeling kind of weird lately. It's time to stop," I told him. 

An hour later, I was at home. I looked around at the house I loved, and I smiled. My life was awesome. I wondered why I wanted anything else. I showered and made myself fresh. I decided to give Dennis a very special night. 

I needed to hurry though, he was due home in about an hour, and if I was freshly showered when he got home, he'd wonder why. 

I showered and cleaned myself inside and out. Then I started on dinner. Almost like clockwork, I heard the sounds Dennis coming up our driveway. His Mustang's exhaust system was easy to pick out. 

"Great job, Honey," I heard Dennis say. He was always complimenting me on something or other. 

"Thank you, Daddy. Your car is so much fun to drive. It's almost like all I have to do is think about what I want it to do," said a voice I recognized as my sixteen-year old daughter Chelsea. "Can I drive your car when I take my test, next week?" she asked. 

"Anything for you, Sweetheart," he said. 

"Frankie is going to be sooooo jealous," said Chelsea. She bounced her way into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips and a soda. 

"Chelsea, no snacks, dinner will be ready soon," I told her. 

"Mom, I want to eat with Daddy. And he's going out to run, first," she said. Dennis went straight up the stairs without coming in to see me. That was unusual. A few minutes later, I heard him come down the stairs and go out the door. I knew that he was headed for the local park. There were running trails and a track there. 

A little over an hour later, he came in and headed straight to the shower. He got something to eat and headed out to the garage. One of our neighbors came over, and they were doing something under the hood of the Mustang. I finished cleaning up the kitchen and went up to our room. I watched TV for a couple of hours while I waited for him to come to bed. 

He poked his head in after taking a shower and told me that he'd be in later. He had something to do on the computer. I pulled the comforter off of me and showed him my tight and sexy new lingerie. 

"That's a nice color," he said. I was very pissed off. 

"You can stay down there on that fuckin' computer all night, Dennis," I hissed at him. 

"Fine ... I will," he said. I have no idea what was going on with us. What had just happened was so unlike us that I was having trouble figuring it out? 

For the rest of the week, we barely spoke to each other, and Dennis seemed to be fine with it. On Friday, I went to my doctor's office and got the shock of my life. I was pregnant. It couldn't be happening again. Our son was twenty years old and away in college. Our daughter, the Apple of her daddy's eye, is sixteen years old and will be going away in a year and a half. At thirty-nine years old, my child rearing days are behind me. 

I was sure that the baby had been conceived when Dennis, and I went up to his parent's cabin in the mountains. There's something about that fresh mountain air that does it to me every time. Chelsea and her brother were both made in that Damned cabin. 

I had him. My husband Dennis aka Super Dad would step up to the plate as soon as he discovered that "WE," were having another baby. 

I waited triumphantly for his return, knowing that whatever funk he was going through would be trumped by my news. As I thought about it, I remembered several times in the past when we'd gone through things like this. 

The last one was at the dream cruise a couple of years before. He'd gone to several of the vendors there and discovered that his motor was out of date. All of the newer Mustangs that had the 5.0 motors were running a 4 volt system. Even though he had more horsepower than most of them, he was running a 3 volt motor, and a lot of the new mods wouldn't work on his car. 

He pouted like a baby for nearly a month before announcing to me that he had to buy another car for the sake of his fragile emotional state. I asked him how much he expected to get for the trade in on the old car, and he looked at me like I had pissed in his cornflakes. 

Dennis had a plan in mind that there was no fucking way I would go along with. His plan was to rebuild our single-car garage or possibly add to it to turn it into a three-car garage. He would then buy another Mustang, keeping the old one and having the garage space for a third one sometime in the future. He was out of his God Damned mind, and I told him so. 

"Dennis, we have two kids to put through college," I reminded him. "You are not Jay Fucking Leno. You have two choices here. Choice A is to trade your Mustang in and get a new one. Choice B is to put on your big boy pants and love the car you have. Stop being a follower and realize that you don't always have to have the latest greatest tech out there. You sit there and ooh and ahh over vintage Mustangs. Well ... Part of being vintage is having your car get older. As long as YOU love it, that's all that matters." 

He sulked like a baby for another two weeks and finally decided that he loved his car too much to give it up. I was sure that the news of the baby would beat out whatever he was upset about. 

When he came through the door preluded once again by the sound of his high-powered Mustang's exhaust system, I could hardly wait to spring the news on him. But once again, he'd stopped off and brought Chelsea home. 

"Daddy, I could have beaten him," whined Chelsea. "It was a friggin Honda. And that greasy cowboy driving it was all hat and no cattle. That would have been..." 

"That would have been your first and last ticket," said Dennis. "Neither of you noticed the cop car behind the Burger Queen. The Urban cowboy may have wanted another ticket, but you don't even have your license yet." 

"Dad I want this car," said Chelsea. She had her serious face on. "You wanted a different car a while back. This is your chance to get it." 

"Chelsea, I am not giving a five hundred horsepower Mustang to a sixteen-year old girl," he said. As I watched, Chelsea stuck out her bottom lip and her dad's face changed. I knew that my husband was about to start bargaining. He simply couldn't bear the thought of our daughter, or our son, for that matter, being unhappy. And Chelsea had been manipulating her dad since she was still wearing diapers. 

"Chels, I really love my car," he began. "So I really don't need a new one. Maybe we could start a family tradition you know ...? Maybe we could get you your own Mustang?" 

"The same color as yours," she asked. He grudgingly nodded. 

"But you're getting a v6," he said as if he was being tough. She frowned and nodded her head as if she had just been forced to eat liver. 

"Convertible," she threw in. 

"Used," he said, holding out his hand. 

"Certified used," she said shaking hands with him. 

"We'll start looking online tomorrow," he said. "And do some test drives Friday afternoon." 

"I love you daddy," she said hugging him. It was like watching her pat her puppy on the head because he'd learned a new trick. I had no doubt that my daughter was going to get exactly what she wanted. And I was proven right less than a second later. 

"Chels, you can have a new car if you want it," he said. Her declaration of love for her dad had weakened him even further. 

"Dad, we already made a deal," she said. "Besides the new ones are ugly," she threw over her shoulder as she skipped up the stairs. 

It was all I could do not to laugh. My sixteen-year old daughter, who didn't even have a license yet had just talked her dad into buying her a Mustang. I had to get Chelsea on my side. But, I really didn't need her. The new baby would take care of that. For the next eight months or so I would be treated like a queen. 

Besides, Dennis and Chelsea had always been extremely close. Getting her to side with someone other than her dad was like trying to stop the sun from shining. 

While I'd been lost in my thoughts, Dennis went upstairs. He was probably getting ready for his run. Another hour wouldn't kill me or change the impact of my news. 

Two hours later, Dennis had come back from his run and had taken a shower. I could hear Chelsea upstairs in her room, singing like no one could hear her. I was sure that, by the way, she argued a point; my daughter could be a great lawyer. She would, however, never be Taylor Swift. 

Dennis was at the computer again, and as I looked over his shoulder, I noticed that he was looking at houses. I smiled. 

"Honey, I know we said that now might be a good time to downsize. What with the kids both being in college soon, we simply don't need a house this big anymore," I told him. "But ... Things have changed, Daddy. I'm pregnant again." I expected him to be shocked. I expected him to jump up and hug me, or jump up and just stare at me. What I didn't expect was for him calmly to move on to the next house on his list as if I hadn't said a word. 

"Dennis, don't you have anything to say?" I asked loudly. 

"I was just trying to look at all the angles and possible permutations of the situation, to figure out my position," he said. "But there is one thing I'm wondering, because it's the key to everything." 

"What are you wondering, Honey?" I asked. I thought he was joking with me. I thought that at any moment, he would scoop me into his arms and hug me. 

He turned around and looked me in the eye. His face was flat. The man I had loved for most of my life was looking at me like a car part. He was evaluating whether or not to reuse me in his engine or to replace me. My husband looked at me like I was a spark plug. Then he spoke, and it was the worst thing I have ever heard in my life. 

"I was just wondering whether the baby is mine or Brad's," he said. "Naturally, it makes a big difference." 

"Huh?" I said. My brain was refusing to function. I had no coherent thoughts. "Who," I asked stupidly. 

"Brad Johnson; you know the college boy that you've been fucking for the last five or six weeks. We live in a small town, Sarah. No matter how sneaky you are, sooner or later someone is going to see you," he said. All I could do was to stand there barely keeping my balance. 

"When I found out, we were done. I started planning out the rest of my life without you. I moved some money around to make things easier for the kids and to lessen how much money we have. I did it for two reasons. The first is to make sure that our kids will come out of this financially stable. The second reason was to lessen how much money I would have to give you," he said. 

I wanted to do so many things at that moment. I wanted to reach out to him and have him take me in his arms and tell me that everything was going to work out. 

I wanted to say something, but my mouth refused to work. And even if it did, I had no idea what to say. 

"Of course, course your baby probably isn't mine," he said with as much confidence as he had everything else. "For the past month or so our sex life has been dwindling down to nearly nothing. I've used every excuse and tactic I could not to touch you. And when I did, I never ejaculated in your vagina. I did what they say women have been doing for centuries ... I faked it. Apparently, you were lying when you swore you felt me cumming, because I never did." 

"But ... But I ..." I began. 

"You probably remember me shooting sperm all over your face like you were a whore," he said. "It was better than putting it inside of you. In a way, it's really good that you've discovered this. It saves me the trouble of dealing with you for any longer than I have to." 

"You don't understand," I whined. "This meant nothing. It was..." 

"Don't care," he said. "I have no interest in why you did what you did. If you were bored with us, or wanted someone new, you had every opportunity to let me know. At least, you could have given me the chance to compete for you, but you never did. That indicates to me that you were simply tired of being with me." 

"No, you've got it all wrong," I said. 

"There are clearly two versions of whatever is going on here," he said. "You can believe whatever bullsnot that floats your boat. But I have to look for logical evidence." 

"We've known each other for more than twenty years," he said. "You've always claimed to know me better than anyone else in the world, right?" 

"I do," I said. 

"So surely you must have known what would happen when I found out, right," he asked. 

"I ... I ... Never thought that you'd find out," I said. "Dennis, I love you. I swear it. This was a mistake. We all make them. I'd do anything for you." 

"Okay, drop dead," he said. "That would make things a lot cheaper and a lot easier." 

"Anything except that," I said. 

"Then just sign the divorce papers when they come tomorrow," he said. 

"What divorce papers," I asked in shock. "Who said anything about a divorce? Dennis this isn't a reason for anything permanent," I said. "We can work this out. I'll never do it again." 

"That's how I feel about sticking my dick in your hole," he said. "And since I will also not live the rest of my life without sex, the two of us need to find other partners. People around town seem to think that I'm a pretty good guy. So I'd kind of like to be in a relationship with whomever I'm screwing. And since nice women don't screw married guys ..." 

"We can fix this," I said. "In a few years, it'll be like it never happened." 

"Nope, it won't be," he said. "I am older than Brad, but then so are you. Neither one of us is anywhere close to being old enough to think about Alzheimer's though. So I won't be forgetting this. And I could never trust you again. I think it's best we go our separate ways." 

"No, I'll fight it," I told him. 

"I'm going to let you continue to live in the house until Chelsea goes away to college," he said. "Unless, I end of with custody of her; if that happens, I'll move back in, and you'll have to find a place to stay. As soon as you get and sign the divorce papers, you'll get a check for half of our assets. It should be enough for you to live on until your boyfriend graduates. 

I don't give a bubbly fart what the law says," he continued. "I am giving you half of everything we've accrued since we got together. You can keep your car, but you will have to make the payments. I refuse to pay you any type or form of support. After all, it was your cheating that destroyed our marriage. Morally, you should have to pay me, but the only thing I want from you is your absence. 

I will of course continue to support my daughter and our son. I had them DNA tested, and they ARE my kids. I've set up accounts for both of them. Their college is paid for, and they have money in their personal accounts as well. You, on the other hand, have more than enough money to live on for a few years, but you need to get your ass in gear and come up with a career. Maybe you could become a sex therapist or a hooker or something. 

If you do try to take me to court to get something else out of the divorce, it will prove to me that you didn't really love me, you were just after the money. So I'll disappear. With my degree and my experience, I can get a job anywhere in the world. Name changes are a lot cheaper than supporting fat women who cheat on their husbands. On my way out of town I'll put the videos I have of you rutting with Brad on the Internet and paint the web address on the side of the church. Come Sunday, your ass will be famous. You'll be the talk of the town. 

On the other hand, take the money you're getting, live here in the house or get yourself an apartment and live your life. We can both be happy. We can both live here with our heads held high. We'll just tell everyone that things didn't work out. We just grew apart. If we run into each other, we'll just smile and keep on going ... Or maybe we won't smile." 

* * * * * *

Jaime 

"Come in and have a seat, Jaime," she said. I walked in and sat in the chair that she indicated. I had no idea why I'd been called to her office. 

"Jaime, do you like it here?" she asked while still looking at a stack of papers. 

"Yes Ma'am. I do," I said. "I've been working very hard to prove that." 

"Yes Jaime, you have," she said. "You are very good at your job. It's your uhm ... Interpersonal skills that I called you in to speak to you about. Let me get to the point. Half of our employees think that you're a ray of sunshine. The other half thinks that you're covered in the stench of hell." 

"No one appeals to everyone, Ma'am," I said. "Personality conflicts can ..." 

"Wow, I was hoping for a quick and tidy, "I'll do my best to win them over, Ma'am," she said. "But I can see now that this goes deeper. I don't want to pry, Jaime, but are you a lesbian?" 

"No Ma'am," I said quickly and probably more emphatically than necessary. 




Talk of the Town



"Jaime, there's nothing wrong with it if you are," she said. "It would certainly have absolutely no bearing on your work here. We could really care less." 

"I'm not Ma'am," I said again. 

"Were you raped?" she asked. 

"No, not even ever close to it," I said. 

"We're you involved in an abusive relationship?" she asked. 

"No Ma'am," I said. 

"Jaime," she said. Her voice got softer. "Why do you hate men?" 

Two hours later, I was still bristling from the conversation. I liked my job. And truthfully I didn't hate men. I just didn't trust them. Men were messy, dirty, sniveling, deceitful beings that stole your heart and your trust and then left you beaten up and broken. 

I had promised my boss that I would find something to calm my nerves and help me deal with my anger issues. I'd remembered how much I used to enjoy walking in the woods with my aunt when I was young. 

I'd heard that walking was supposed to be great exercise. So I put on my tennis shoes and headed for the park near my house where there was a trail I could walk. 

Something about being out in nature was so calming. The sun and the gentle fall breezes did a lot for my mood. By the time I'd gotten back to my car, I was feeling better. I'd even left my cell phone in the car, so I wouldn't be interrupted. 

As soon as I got my ass on the seat it started to ring. Looking at the screen all the peace that I'd worked so hard that afternoon to gain, evaporated. 

"Hi Mom," I said. 

"Wow, it sounds like you're walking to your own execution," she said. "Do you hate talking to your family that much?" 

I didn't bother to answer. I knew she'd keep talking. 

"Are you coming home for your father's birthday party?" she asked. 

From there the conversation went downhill. My mom threw in several statements on how close my Dad, and I used to be. She tried to use the guilt strategy on me when I explained to her that I REALLY did want to be there for Dad's party, but that I REALLY REALLY had to work. I told her how two REALLY's trumped one REALLY, so I wouldn't be attending the party; as much as I wanted to. 

With my good mood shattered; I went home or at least back to my house. I'd lived there for six months, and it still didn't seem much like a home. 

I'd never met any of the neighbors and to be honest; a lot of my stuff was still in boxes. I have no idea why I haven't unpacked yet. Maybe that's why the place just feels like a box to keep my stuff in, instead of a home. 

* * * * * *

Sarah

Two weeks ago, I'd been ... Well I'd felt like I was the luckiest woman on the planet. It had nothing to do with my looks. I'm average at best. I mean I'm pretty but no one with the exception of my husband was going to go crazy over me. I do have juicy boobs and a big butt, but so do a lot of women. When I was younger, guys were into those super skinny model types. Nowadays, men like women with some curves. 

I hit the jackpot twice. One way was in timing. I was thinner during my teens and twenties. But after having a couple of babies and looking towards forty, I simply never lost the extra weight from child birth. I'm not a cow. I weight a healthy one hundred and fifty pounds, with Double D boobs and a mouth-watering, jiggly rear end. 

The second way that I hit the jackpot was when I picked the guy I married. Dennis is the sweetest man I have ever met. He loves me no matter how I look or what shape I'm in. For most of our marriage, he's always told me that all he wants is for me to be happy. 

I guess that a big part of the human condition is that we always want more. I had everything I have ever wanted, but I still reached for more. Maybe it was a mid-life crisis. Maybe it was the onset of the change. Maybe it was simple vanity. 

There comes a time in a woman's life when she hits her late teens or her early twenties and realizes that she can pretty much have anything she wants. She realizes that most men will do almost anything to get some of that little hole between her legs. 

She realizes that all she has to do is put on some high tight shorts and a low-cut blouse, and every man in any place is going to look at her. It's a gyp though, because it really doesn't mean anything. You don't have to be especially pretty for it to work. You don't have to be well built either. Men are just hard-wired with pussy on the brain. And if there's the smallest chance that they'll get some, they'll make fools out of themselves. 

Women get used to having that power and then one day ... It's gone. One day, a woman realizes that she is simply invisible ... Even to men. At first, it didn't matter. But I think I just hadn't realized it was gone. I would visit friends and notice that their sons barely noticed me. I started trying to tease them, but it didn't matter. I was no longer tempting or sexy. 

My husband still couldn't get enough of me. I could tempt HIM if I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. All I had to do was bend forward. It didn't matter if I was facing him or facing away from him. Dennis would go crazy. 

But it didn't matter. He was supposed to. After all, he had married me, so he obviously found me attractive. 

And then one day, it happened. I was working in the yard, and I heard the doorbell ring. I went to the door and there was a delivery guy there. It was Brad. I remember him because he was a year older than my son and had helped him learn the plays when he played high school football. As we greeted each other and reminisced while I signed for the package, I noticed that his eyes never left my boobs. 

As he looked at them, my nipples rose like he was controlling them with his eyeballs. 

"Brad, you ... You're staring," I said breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

"God ... I wish my girlfriend had ..." he mumbled. I don't think he realized that I could hear him. We were both out of our minds. 

"Big titties ..." I finished for him. He nodded. 

"I was going to say a body like yours," he said. "When you bent over to put the box down I almost ..." 

"Almost what," I giggled. 

"Ruined my shorts," he said. 

"Well, you can go home tonight and work it all out on that girlfriend," I laughed. I was really happy. And I was kind of excited myself. My pussy was throbbing. 

He just laughed at my words. "What's so funny?" I asked. 

"What you just suggested," he said. "I'm lucky if I get any once a month. And even when I do, it has to be a fucking special occasion, and she just lies there like she's some precious diamond that I'm privileged to touch. Then I have to kiss her ass for the next month or so." 

"But I thought ..." I began. 

"That people in their twenties were fucking up a storm ...?" he said. "Everybody I know tells me how lucky I am. But none of them is engaged to a "good girl." Mary wants everyone to think that she went to the altar a virgin. So she gives me just enough to keep me interested. And one of the problems with younger women is that a lot of them haven't really learned to enjoy sex much. 

It's funny; most guys think they're blessed if they get a pretty girl. But in a lot of cases, it's more of a curse. Pretty girls can get any guy they want. So they don't have to work for it or give it up. The girls who aren't so pretty will fuck you for a happy meal. And they've usually had sex enough that they enjoy it too. 

Mary and I have been together since her eighteenth birthday. It took me almost a year to get her cherry. She was nineteen years old and acted like I had killed her. We were already engaged, and she made it seem like we had committed the crime of the century. We've been together for three years now; we're getting married next year when I graduate, and I have never gotten a blowjob. I hope your husband realizes how lucky he is." 

There was another long silence, and then I pulled him into the house. We were all over each other. I didn't even have the sense to close the front door. Anyone could have walked in and saw us fucking on the sofa. 

At the time, I lied to myself. I told myself that it was a one-time thing ... A moment of madness brought on by temporary insanity. I told myself that it had simply been my ego's way of finding out if I was still attractive to men other than Dennis, younger men, especially. 

I told myself that it would never happen again and that everyone was entitled to a one-time mistake. I told myself that Dennis would have forgiven me since it had only happened once in our more than twenty-year marriage. I told myself that a one-time fling was not worth ending a marriage as strong as ours over. I knew that we would have a very rough patch, but we would undoubtedly make it through. And all of that was if Dennis found out. 

When he came home that night, he was just as loving as ever. He was just as happy to see me as ever. I did my best to drain his balls dry. And I noticed that what Dennis and I did was different from what I'd done with Brad. 

It was just a different flavor. Neither was actually better they were just different. I concentrated on being a good wife and a good mother, but about a week later, Brad was at the door and from the way my body reacted when I saw the look in his eyes, I knew that we were going to fuck again. 

It took about seven weeks for me to quit and unfortunately, the day I quit was the day that Dennis quit me. I was totally wrong about the way that he reacted to finding out. Dennis seemingly turned off his emotions when it came to me. 

He treated me like a math problem, and he was very good at math. Dennis would not even listen to any talk of counseling or anything involving us getting back together. When I got a lawyer, Dennis simply looked at him and explained to the man that if he wanted to get paid, he should get on board the divorce train. There would be no chance of a reconciliation, so counseling wouldn't work. 

If there were any attempts to do anything to delay the process, Dennis would simply leave. In leaving he would scorch the Earth, not only would he leave me penniless; he would leave my reputation in tatters. We worked very quickly, and the whole thing was settled in less than two weeks after Dennis confronted me. My head was still spinning as I tried to figure a way out of it. 

Of course, things didn't go the way either of us planned them. Dennis finally agreed to pay me alimony, but only for twelve months. After that I was literally on my own. I would also receive child support for Chelsea, but only until she left for college. 

That was where things went to hell for Dennis. We had each campaigned really hard for custody of Chelsea, and she made no bones about telling the judge that she wanted to be with her dad. The problem was that Dennis hadn't settled on a house yet. It was actually taking him longer to close on a new house than it took for our divorce. 

Since Chelsea lived with me, I got child support in addition to my alimony. In a year and a half when Chelsea left for college, I had to move out of the house. The house had belonged to Dennis' family, and he would not only not sell it to me; he wouldn't allow me to stay there a day longer than Chelsea did. 

Dennis had finally found a house to his liking, and he was renting it. According to Chelsea, it was a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Dennis had very liberal visitation rights, and Chelsea had started setting up her room there as soon as Dennis had begun to furnish the place. 

Dennis would also pay me child support for the new child, when the DNA proved it was his. I already set up an appointment to determine paternity as early in the pregnancy as possible. I was betting my future on the baby. If it was proven not to be Dennis' child, life as I knew it would be over. 

As quickly as Denis had given me the broom, Brad had distanced himself from me even quicker. For the nearly two months of the affair, I had fooled myself into believing that although on my part the fling was a purely physical thing, that it meant something more to Brad. 

I found out just how stupid I was when I went to tell Brad that I was pregnant, and there was a very small chance that he might be the father. 

I tried to go up to him after he got off work. He pretended that he didn't know me. He'd been with some of his coworkers, and I thought that maybe he wasn't allowed to have personal visitors on company property. 

I decided to wait until his friends were gone to tell him. 

"Who was the old chick you were just talking to," asked one of his coworkers. 

"She's just a friend of my mom's," said Brad. "It's kind of creepy the way she always comes over to say hi to me." 

"Well she's got a big ass and some nice boobs," said his friend. "But she's so old they're probably rusted shut." I guess I expected Brad to defend me or at least to change the subject. But he joined in. 

"Her tits probably drop to her knees," he said. "And her ass is probably covered in fat. I wouldn't fuck her with your dick. She has to be at least fifty. That's just nasty." 

It didn't take long before tears filled my eyes, and I realized that I had just been stupid. I reminded myself that my affair with Brad had been just a quick fling and that there were supposedly no emotions involved, but it hurt me badly to hear him talk about me like I was just some toothless old whore. What was worse was that he was too embarrassed to let anyone know that we'd been together. 

I also realized from listening to him talking that Brad was cheating on his fiancé with at least two other women. The other two were in his age group, and he had no trouble talking about them in favorable terms. 

What had been temporary insanity on my part had been skilled maneuvering on his. Brad had liked my body and wanted to fuck me and he had. Maybe it was my mental state or feeling unattractive, but I had given it up to him as easily as any whore would have. And I had ruined a perfect marriage to a man who had truly loved me in the process. 

Brad didn't care about me in the least. He had just wanted to fuck me. I finally got in touch with him, to tell him about the baby. It wasn't just his words; it was the venom in his tone that hurt me. 

"It's not mine," he said quickly. "Get an abortion. I'll pay half, just don't tell anyone that it might be my kid. I thought you old women were supposed to be smart about stuff like that." 

I went home and cried my eyes out. Neither Dennis nor Chelsea was much help. Chelsea looked at me furiously, before going over to a friend's house for dinner. And Dennis took one look at me and headed to the garage and his car, but not before I had noticed the tears in the corners of his eyes. 

I simply could not believe how badly I had hurt him and for nothing. That evening Dennis went out and drove around until he found Brad. Brad was in a bar with some of his friends. 

Dennis approached them; bought himself a beer, took a long swig of it, and spit it all right in Brad's face. Brad was no dummy; he made his excuses and tried to leave the bar with his friends laughing at him, and calling him names. 

The bouncers tried to hold Dennis so Brad could get away. They held onto his arms until Brad had gotten into his car and drove away. But in a town as small as ours it did them no good. Dennis drove to Brad's parent's house and caught him sitting out on the porch. 

Dennis hit Brad so hard that Brad broke the banister on the porch and fell off of it into his mother's rose bushes. He jumped off the porch, and landed on Brad and started pummeling him. 

Brad's parents came to his rescue, but he was beaten so badly that he had to go to the hospital. Brad's mom took him to the urgent care facility in the next town while his father spoke to Dennis. 

Dennis called the police himself and actually drove to the station and turned himself in. Brad's parents didn't press charges, and the Sheriff sent Dennis home. He bought a new banister for Brad's parents and a six-pack of beer. Dennis and Brad's father fixed the porch together. 

The interesting thing was that reporters from our small-town newspaper dug into the story and put two and two together. Dennis kept his word. He never told anyone about anything, but somehow small bits and pieces of the story got out. My divorce, my pregnancy, my DNA test and Dennis leaving me, coupled with Dennis beating the shit out of Brad, made me the talk of the town. Every day it got worse. 

Tomorrow, Dennis is moving out of the house and into his rental home. Chelsea is going to help him along with a lot of our friends. I decided to make a nice dinner for us, so I went to the supermarket. I got a lot of stares and frowns from several of the people shopping there. 

I got into the checkout lane with the shortest line and once again fate was against me. When I was third in line I noticed that my cashier was Mary, Brad's girlfriend. 

As I got closer to her, I was struck by just how pretty she is. There were all kinds of whispers in the store, and every eye was on us as I stood in front of her. As she noticed me standing there, a solitary tear rolled down her cheek. And with a dignity that women twice her age could not have mustered, she began sorting and scanning my items. 

Everyone in the store was staring at the courageous young woman as she rang up my groceries. One tear after another became a flood as she worked. 

I looked around and saw everyone staring at me. I felt like shit. 

"Mary, I'm so sorry," I managed to croak out. 

"No you're not," she said in a tiny voice. "You're sorry that you got caught is all. But I am ... I'm sorry for your husband. He's a really nice man. He didn't deserve this. He loved you so much. And you just pulled his guts out. I'm sorry for your daughter. She has a little bit more than a year left in the school here where she'll be compared to her mother, the town whore, until she leaves there. No matter how good she is, she'll always be compared to you. 

I'm sorry that I was stupid enough to think I could trust Brad. But I got off lucky. I was going to marry him. I wanted to be like you, Sarah. I wanted a husband who loved me like there was no tomorrow. I wanted someone who would protect and provide for me and our kids. I wanted to be you, Sarah. 

But now I'm glad I'm not. I could never hurt someone who loves me, the way that you hurt Dennis. And you know; I hope that baby that you're carrying is Brad's. Dennis deserves a shot at happiness with someone else. And he deserves to have it without being chained to you for the next eighteen years. 

If that baby has to ruin someone's life, I hope it's Brad. I hope the two of you are tied together forever, locked in hatred for what you did to us. Was it worth it Sarah?" As she finished talking, every customer in the store started clapping for her. 

Earnest Truth, the owner of the store came over just as I pulled out my credit card to pay. 

"Sarah," he said as I pulled out my wallet. "Your groceries are on the house." I had the vague idea that he was trying to make up for the way that Mary had spoken to me. 

"It's okay, Earnest," I said. "She has a right to her opinion." 

"She's also right," he said. "I've had so many customers who've complained about you shopping here that I have no choice. Sarah, this isn't a big fancy chain store. This store is privately owned, and I'm the owner. Because of all the complaints I got, I'm asking you to take your groceries and walk out the door. You are no longer welcome in my store." 

"But I've always shopped here," I said. "It's the only grocery store in town!" 

"The next town is only ten miles away," he said. "And thanks to your husband busting his ass, you have a pretty nice car." He too walked away from me, to the cheering of the other customers." 

I wanted to cry, but as I looked out over all the angry, yet familiar faces, I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing my tears. 




Talk of the Town



I drove home and cried my way through making the best dinner I knew how to make. It was also Dennis' favorite meal. When he came home from work, I begged him to sit down and eat dinner with me one last time, since he would be moving out the next day. 

I was sure that it was the saddest day I'd had since I met him. We sat across from each other barely able to look into each other's faces and pushed a lot of food around on our plates. 

"How are things with your baby?" he asked. 

"It's OUR baby, Dennis," I spat. 

"That remains to be proven," he said calmly. "But truthfully, I don't think it is." 

"Have you given up engineering in favor of becoming a psychic?" I asked him. 

"Maybe I always was," he said. It was the first time that I'd seen him smile in weeks. "I probably should have told you this before," he said. "But I always knew before you told me. When we were pregnant with Frank, I felt something. It was our first time, and I really thought that I was feeling something odd about you. But I knew something was different. When we were pregnant with Chels, I was the one who told you that you needed a test. I had the same feeling, and I knew what it was that time. I wasn't feeling anything odd about you, but I could feel my daughter." 

"So you're telling me that you can tell that THIS baby isn't yours?" I asked. 

"I never said that," he said. "I'm just telling you that I don't feel anything this time. It could be because you and I are no longer connected emotionally or ..." 

"Dennis you're wrong," I cried. "I love you just as much as I ever did. I just made a mistake. I was a foolish old woman who just did a really dumb thing. But it didn't mean anything. And trust me, I am suffering for it. Most of my friends are no longer my friends. I guess I'm banned from the grocery store too." 

"You and Brad will just have to shop somewhere else," he said. "Big deal, Sarah, don't bring him into my house anymore," he told me. "You can fuck him in a motel room ... Or his parent's house. I'm only letting you live here for Chelsea. If I hear that he's been in my hou ..." 

"Dennis, Brad, and I have nothing to do with each other anymore," I sobbed. "He doesn't even admit to knowing me and he bad mouths me to all of his friends. He has them believing that I'm some crazy old friend of his mother's who won't leave him alone. But a lot of people around town know what's going on. I can tell that by people's reaction to me in the grocery store." 

"Well once you guys get further into the pregnancy you'll be back together, and I'm sure that he'll be involved with his child," he said. 

"Dennis, he says it's not his. He told me to get an abortion," I said. A look of anger flashed across his face and receded within the space of a heartbeat. 

"You can't beat morality into him, Dennis," I said. 

"His parents are good people," he said. "They'll make him do the right thing." 

"Dennis, I want this baby to have the same life that Frankie and Chelsea had," I said. 

"That's between you and Brad," he said. 

"What if it's your baby?" I asked. "Why punish him because of something I did?" 

"If it is my child, I'll do my best to be in his life," he said. 

"Dennis, I mean everything. You have to swear it," I said. "A baby can begin to learn things while it's still in the womb. Do you remember how you used to talk to Chelsea before she was born? You spent hours rubbing my tummy and telling her how her life was going to be and how loved she was. You have to swear to be in this baby's life the same way." 

"I swear if it's my child, I'll do anything you want until he or she is old enough to understand why things are the way they are," he said. I was happy with that because it meant that I would have him move back into the house until the baby was in his teens at least. 

"But at the same time, I need you to swear something too," he said. 

"I swear I will never cheat on you again," I said. 

"Not that," he said. "You have to swear that if it's not my child you'll leave me alone and let me move on with my life."

"Dennis, I'm really sorry, but I can't promise you that," I told him. "If it was ten years from now, and you had moved on and married someone else; I would still go after you. If I had a sister, and you were married to her and even worse had kids with her ... I would still go after you. I'd be your wife, your side piece, your booty call, or anything else you wanted. I can't help it. I love you." 

I was crying so hard I could barely speak. Something in him softened, and he took me in his arms. 

"I love you too, Sarah," he said. "A part of me always will. A part of me will also wish very much that what you did had been a one-time thing. I'm not sure, but I think we might have survived it if it had only been once, but you did it repeatedly. You knew what you were doing. And you had to know that there'd be consequences." 

I could barely comprehend what he was saying. It seemed like it had been forever since I'd been in my husband's arms. I was in heaven. I let out a contented sigh and squeeze him even tighter to me. 

My nipples sprang to life, and my pussy was gushing. I hadn't worn a bra hoping for just the opportunity that was presenting itself. His arms started rubbing my back, and my knees got weak. 

I felt his arms tighten to try to hold me up. His hands grabbed my ass cheeks. I pushed my boobs even further against his chest. I wanted him more at that moment than I had wanted anything in my life. 

I needed him to fuck me. I needed him to show me that I was still desirable to him. 

"Sarah, what are you doing?" he asked. 

"Can't we just do it one last time?" I asked. "It doesn't have to mean that you want me back as much as I want it to. We can just be two healthy adults taking care of their urges. As a matter of fact, you know how horny I get when I'm pregnant. You can come over and fuck me whenever you want. I have never refused you Dennis. I won't start now. You can come over every day and every night. Whenever you want some pussy just come and get it. It doesn't have to mean anything. Just ..." 

"That's the problem," he said. "Maybe that's why we don't belong together any more. Because to me, it WOULD mean something. Sarah, whenever I was with you, it was special every time. It ALWAYS means something. At least to me, it does. I'm not like you, Sarah. I can't have sex and share myself with someone just for kicks. It's just too personal. I loved you too much for that." 

Suddenly, l realized that I had lost him. There was no hope for us, and what's more I knew then that I didn't deserve him. I had taken something pure and special and just ruined it. Even if the baby did turn out to be ours, things between Dennis, and I would never be the same. He would never trust me the same way again. Even the look in his eyes when he saw me changed. 

My daughter hated me. She blamed me for her not being able to live with her father when, in fact, it had been the court that'd made the decision. While it was true that I wanted her in the house with me because I knew that Dennis couldn't stay away from her, the judge had made the call. 

I also knew to the day when her brother found out what was going on. I knew because it was the first day in the two years that he'd been away at school that he not only didn't call me, he didn't return my calls or texts. I didn't hear from him at all since that day. I had destroyed my family and had nothing to show for it. Everything hung on my baby's DNA. 

It was a lot of responsibility to place on the thin shoulders of a fetus. I smiled thinking about it because as much as Dennis wanted to be free of me, he never would. It seemed like I was gambling with my future and my family, but the odds were in my favor. Dennis had cum in me literally thousands of times over more than twenty years. Brad had me only ten or twelve times, and we used condoms. I still remember his disgust at having to take the used rubbers with him, because of my paranoia about Dennis finding them. 

The chances of it being Brad's baby were remote. "Let me know when they have the DNA results," said Dennis as he turned towards the door. 

"What," I asked. "Dennis they can't even do the test for another three weeks. What will I do until then?" 

"Figure out what your next step is," he said. "Start getting ready to have your baby. Mend fences with Chelsea. Find your next man. I think they call it having a life. 

Look, Sarah ... I'm going through the same thing. On one hand, the easiest thing in the world would be to wrap my arms around you and say," okay it never happened." I hurt so bad every time I think of you in my house ... Letting that asshole fuck my pussy. I wish it had never happened. I wish our family was still all together. I wish the hardest choice I had to make was where to go on our next vacation. But YOU did this to US. The rest of us never had a say in things. YOU did this, Sarah. So don't look to me for support. I'm still trying to get over my own pain from this. 

I'm not even sure where I'll find the strength to help the kids deal with it. You're going to have to fix your own life this time." 

Like I said before, I thought it was the worst moment of my life. But I was wrong. 

The next three weeks were like a nightmare. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned all night. I kept reaching for Dennis and wondering where he was, and then I'd remember and cry my eyes out. 

I once made the mistake of going to my daughter Chelsea's room. I thought that maybe we were both feeling alone, and I really needed a hug. 

Her reaction stunned me. She sat straight up in her bed, looking at me like I was crazy. 

"Chels, we both miss your dad," I began. 

"I don't miss him," she spat. "I just got off the phone with him. He picks me up after school every day, and I'm spending the weekend with him. Maybe if you hadn't chased him away you wouldn't miss him either." 

"But Chels ..." I sobbed. 

"Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" she asked. "What you did is what everyone in town is talking about. Half of them think that I'm going to be like you. Go back to your room mother." 

On days when I was really depressed, I did things that I'm not really proud of. I called his phone and hung up when he answered. And I ... Okay I stalked him. After being together for over twenty years, I knew his goings and comings. So I drove to his job and watched him go into the building to work. I went back at lunch time and saw him go out to eat with several of his coworkers. 

I got really angry when I noticed that one of the group was a woman. She was about my age and was even built like me. It would be the ultimate insult for Dennis to dump me and just roll out my fucking clone. If he liked me that God Damned much why not give the original another chance instead of settling for a poor copy? 

I felt like shit when they returned. I'd been ready to confront them when I noticed that the woman was holding hands with and kissed one of the other men. I also noticed that Dennis wasn't paying her any attention. I drove home and told myself that I was just being silly. 

A couple of hours later, I jumped up and ran to the window when I heard the sound of his Mustang's exhaust system. As usual, he'd picked Chelsea up from school. She hopped out of the car, hugged her dad, and headed into the house as he roared off. He hadn't so much as looked toward the house. 

Every day I missed him more. It just seemed like everything I did reminded me of what I had lost. When I went into town, the reaction I got from people only served to remind me even more how they saw it. I already had to shop at a market in the next town. The punishment I received was definitely inversely proportionate to the pleasure I received from my mistake. And I suffered through it alone. I was the butt of all kinds of jokes, but Brad ... Except for Dennis beating his ass; he seemed to get off scot free. People simply laughed about it and patted him on the back. 

He lost his pretty, young girlfriend, but she quickly rebounded and was already seeing another boy. And truthfully, Brad wasn't ready to settle down anyway. So from my point of view, I was the only one suffering for what had happened. 

According to Chelsea, Dennis was miserable too. I just didn't understand why if we were both hurting, we couldn't help each other. 

Three weeks later ... Three weeks during which I sank further and further into depression, the bottom fell out. I called Dennis on the phone. 

"Dennis, hi, Honey, it's me," I said. "Are you surprised?" 

"I'm only surprised that you actually stayed on the line long enough to say something instead of just hanging up as soon as you heard my voice," he said. 

"I've never ..." I began. 

"Sarah, before you lie to me AGAIN," he said. "You should remember that they have this wonderful thing called caller ID." 

"Okay," I said. "I may have called you two or thirty times. But I have never lied to you." 

"Sarah, this is all water under the bridge, but I seem to remember you claiming to love me. I also remember you promising to forsake all others or some other bullshit like that," he said. 

"But Dennis," I sobbed. 

"Why did you call Sarah?" he asked. His voice was no longer as angry as it had been the last time we spoke. It was as if he'd just accepted the fact that we were no longer together and was moving on from me. It made my heart hurt to know that he was trying to erase me from his heart like the wrong answer on a math test. 

"Straight to the point, huh, Dennis," I said. "Just like we were strangers ... No polite greetings ... No how are you, Sarah ... Just straight to the point. It's like I was a salesman or a Jehovah's Witness."

"How are you, Sarah?" he asked. And in a testament to his character, there was no trace of sarcasm in his voice. It sounded as if he really wanted to know. 

"I'm fucking miserable," I told him. "I'm a pariah. I'm the talk of the town. No one talks TO me. But everyone talks ABOUT me. I'm lonely, and this is the worst pregnancy ever. It's not fun having a baby alone. Whatever happened to you being with me? I remember you rubbing my tummy and talking to the baby. No one does that now. And your daughter clearly hates me. We both know that the only reason she's still on the house with me is because the courts ordered it." 

I sighed. I blew out a breath and felt better. Just the act of telling someone what I was going through had made me feel better. It was funny that the only person who would listen to me was the person I'd hurt the most. 

"How are you doing?" I asked, feeling guilty that I hadn't asked before. 

"Not good," he said, "People won't leave me alone. They're all so busy trying to help me that they don't give me any time just to sit back and figure out where the hell I went wrong. And everyone seems to be trying to fix me up with someone. I never realized that there were this many women in town. Even some of your friends who never spoke to me are calling and asking me to go out. But I'll get over it. What do you need?" 

"Uhm ... Tomorrow this all ends," I told him. Truthfully, I was so pissed at hearing that some of my supposed friends were hitting on my husband had me about to come unglued. "Tomorrow, I'll get the results of the DNA test, and maybe you can start taking care of me like you promised. So I will call you as soon as I leave the doctor's office and ..." 

"Don't bother," he said. "I'm going to meet you there." 

"I knew you'd want to be involved in our baby's life," I gushed happily. 

"Sorry to rain on the parade," he said. "But the real reason I want to be there is that I just don't trust you enough to take your word for it. I know it sucks, but I'm being honest with you." 

I nodded my head as a tear rolled down my cheek. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Dennis had told me before that he couldn't trust me, but this was more than words. 

The next day we met up at my doctor's office. She was all smiles. She reached into her desk and pulled out a huge envelope. She put on her glasses and looked over the report. 

Her smile was no longer present as she looked up at us. I felt my stomach lurch as if I was about to vomit. 

"There's no easy way to say this," she said. "Sarah, Dennis isn't the father." 

I really have to give Dennis credit. As I passed out he caught me and prevented me from hitting my head on the edge of the large hardwood desk we were sitting in front of. 

When I regained consciousness, he was still holding me. 

"You probably don't believe this," he said. "But I really am sorry, Sarah." He sat me up in the chair. The doctor gave me something to drink, and Dennis took my hand. 

"I wish you all the luck in the world, Sarah," he said. "You're a great mother. You've been through this before. You'll do fine." 

And then Dennis was gone. When he moved out of the house, it felt like someone had reached into my chest and yanked out my heart. That day it felt like someone had just dropped a chunk of cement into the still bleeding hole. 

* * * * * *

Jaime

I didn't realize it on the day my life changed. It seemed like any other Saturday morning. My plans weren't chiseled in stone. They were more like penciled in on the cocktail napkin in my mind. I would wake up at 10 ... 11... Noo ... 1 o'clockish. And go out for a nice long walk in the nearby woods to get rid of all the stress I'd built up during the week. Hopefully, there would be no annoying calls from my mother or anyone else. All I wanted was a stress-free weekend of relaxation. 

So why did I hear jarring and clanking and then a very loud vroooooom sound at the ungodly hour of 9 o'clock?

I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to get back to sleep, but the sounds persisted. I couldn't get back to sleep. It was as loud as if they were building a fucking road in my front yard. 

I was angrier than even my mother could make me as the peace and quiet of my lazy weekend was destroyed. As I threw on a robe to cover my nakedness, I had one thought in mind. I wanted a chunk out of someone's ass. One of my stupid neighbors was about to get a dose of my anger. 

I threw my door opened and stepped out onto my small front porch. There was a huge moving van parked in front of my house. There had to be at least eight men carrying furniture that looked brand new into the house next door to mine. 

There were two or three smaller trucks from a furniture store, an electronics store, and one that I couldn't make out lined up down the street waiting to unload. 

The men were all going about their business very efficiently. As I looked around my temperature rose. And then I spotted him. He drove up in a glass black Mustang GT. The car was very heavily customized. It was completed blacked out. Even the things on the car that would normally be black had been replaced with custom upgrades. 

The normal black plastic honeycomb mesh grills had been replaced with metal bar billet grills that were so shiny that they had to have been the expensive anodized aluminum versions. 

The rims were black chrome split spokes that had to be at least twenty inches in diameter. The tires glowed, shone, and looked either expensive or lovingly maintained. Even though the car, which I thought was a generation down from my own Mustang, looked much more aggressive and much newer. 

But truthfully, I had simply neglected my car the way I neglected so many other things in my life. 

"Breakfast, guys," he shouted enthusiastically. At once the drivers and loaders all ran over to the house and sat down on the stairs and porch to scarf up the offered free breakfast. 

I almost laughed when I looked at what he called breakfast. There were several huge boxes of donuts, a couple of bags of McDonald's breakfast sandwiches. Then there were a couple of bottles of orange or Apple juice and a couple of cases of beer. 




Talk of the Town



Almost to a man they each grabbed a breakfast sandwich, a couple of donuts and a can of beer or two. 

I was amazed. These weren't kids. They were all grown assed men. They all gathered around on the porch guzzling beer and munching on donuts. 

Who does that? Who drinks beer with donuts? I noticed by looking at them that there were a mixture of types and body sizes among them. Very few of them were actually wearing the uniforms of moving or sales companies. 

That meant that a lot of those guys were simply friends of his. I looked again and noticed that I knew or had seen a few of those guys around. A couple of them lived on my street. 

He walked around as chipper and cheerful as a God Damned chipmunk, making sure they were all eating and having a good time. It made me even more pissed. How dare he bring that many MEN to MY house?

I looked around and saw a few more people on the block out on their porches. That was a good thing I thought. Someone besides me was pissed about the intrusion into our peaceful Sunday morning. 

Then I saw something that made me smirk just a bit. The woman who lived across the street from me, all two hundred pounds of her was heading over to the porch. Her lazy assed husband was trailing behind her. She had a full head of steam up and searched through the guys on the porch. Her eyes settled on Mustang guy, and she marched up to him. 

"Dennis, you were supposed to call me when you got here," she yelled. He put down his sandwich and marched over to her. Despite being much smaller than she was he hugged her so hard he lifted her off her feet. She squealed like a school girl. 

"Put me down, you idiot," she squealed. "I don't need all of these guys trying to look under my skirt." 

I noticed that none of the guys had even noticed her, they had beer; they had donuts and the woman was huge. 

"Dennis, I called my sister; she's on her way," she said. "But it would have been better if you'd let me get her over here first. She's going to help you arrange your furniture. You men suck at stuff like that."

She turned around looking for something. "Bert get your lazy ass to work!" she shouted at her husband. He had grabbed himself a beer and two donuts and was munching happily with the other guys. 

It was not the reaction I was expecting. 'Fuck!' I thought. 

Apparently I either spontaneously developed the ability to project my thoughts into the minds of others, or I had gotten so mad that I had actually shouted the word on a bright sunny Sunday, when everyone except me was having a good assed time. I really believe it was the latter because as one, nearly every eye on the block turned to me. 

He was on me in a second. "Good Morning, Neighbor," he said. His words were so cheerful that I wanted to yell a chirpy, "Good Morning," right back at him. 

It was the weirdest thing; he got so close to me that I could smell his aftershave or cologne or whatever he was wearing. It smelled really good on him. He wasn't a pretty man. His looks were actually kind of average. He had dark-brown hair and really nice blue eyes. He was wearing a Mustang T-shirt and black jeans. He wore black moccasins on his feet with no socks. 

I think that he thought it looked good. But it was too stark. There was simply too much black without any small hints of color to make the outfit pop. I laughed inwardly thinking about it. I realized suddenly that he had dressed, not to make a fashion statement but to look like his fucking car. It was not only funny, but endearingly sad. 

Despite myself, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. 

"Oh my God, she's beautiful," he gushed. I began to blush until I noticed that he was looking straight past me at my car through my open garage door. 

"Can I?" he asked. 

"Can you what?" I screamed. "Just what do you want to fucking do, now? I mean besides waking me up at the crack of fucking dawn on a God Damned Sunday morning ... What next?" 

"Sorry," he said. I noticed the way his eyes dropped. The bright as a shiny penny smile faded. I felt as if I had kicked a puppy. "I did leave you a notice warning you ... sorry." Then he stepped slowly away from me. 

Most human beings have a kind of empathy. It's a way of sensing how those around us feel. And in that moment with him backing away from me, as if I was a danger to him, I got the feeling that the happy-go-lucky image was only a mask he had put on to cover up the fact that he was as broken as I was. 

Back to his friends, he started to smile again. But for the first time I could see the cracks in the mask. Men don't notice things like that. They hide from true displays of emotion. "It's always the pretty ones," he said, shrugging his shoulders. The guys all got back to eating, drinking, and burping and farting and all the other things that men do. 

"Uh ... guys," he said suddenly. "It's eleven o' clock. Kickoff is at one. I have several huge pizzas scheduled to be delivered at one fifteen, sharp. We need to get all of this stuff into the house in the next two hours and have that big-ass TV set up, or we're gonna miss part of the game!" 

I have never seen anything like it. Almost as one they all chugged the rest of the beer they were holding and practically ran for the trucks to finish unloading. 

As the army of men headed back to work even faster than before, my eyes locked onto his. "I really am sorry," he said just loud enough for me to hear him. 

I wondered many things in that moment. I wondered if I could have handled the situation any worse. I wondered why more than a year after my divorce, I was still so angry at the world. I wondered if he really thought I was pretty. 

But before I could wonder anything else the huge fat face of my across the street neighbor Ernestine Briggs, aka Ernie, obscured my vision. 

"You're a piece of work," she said angrily. "Ever since you moved into the neighborhood a year ago, everyone here has been nothing but nice to you. Once we figured out that you weren't really the neighborly type, we left you alone. We try not to bother you because I guess we got the message early on that you didn't want to have much to do with us. 

So we don't invade your privacy, but we still look out for you. We don't invite you to neighborhood get togethers, because you've made it clear that you're not that kind of person. Shit, we don't even send the kids to your house at Halloween. We also endure without comment the fact that you rarely ever cut your God damned grass, and let your leaves pile up until they blow onto everyone else's yard. But what you just did..."

She shook her head as if she was trying to keep from hitting me. Ernestine had been one of the first people in the neighborhood to try to reach out to me when I moved in. 

She was one of those motherly types. She was kind to everyone, so to see her upset was a rarity. 

"Unlike when you moved in ..." she said icily. "He didn't just show up on the spur of the moment out of nowhere. He let everyone know exactly when he was moving in. He even came to a meeting of the block club and introduced himself to the people around here that didn't already know him."

"But ... But I didn't know," I said. "I don't go to the block club meetings ..." She pointed to a bright blue piece of paper that was taped to my screen door. 

"Maybe there's another reason you were standing out here in broad daylight in a thin silk robe with your nipples threatening to pop off of your titties," she said. She shook her head in disgust, turned, and walked back to her house as men scurried around me, spurred on by thoughts of football, pizza and even more beer.

I walked back up onto my porch and pulled off the bright blue paper. 

"Hi, my name is Dennis Miller. I'll be moving in on Sunday. I'm truly sorry for any noise caused by the move and will try to keep it as brief as possible. Feel free to stop by and meet me or have a snack. You don't need to help, but any and all help is welcome. Thanks in advance for your consideration."

I wondered then why I hadn't noticed the flyer. In the back of my mind, I realized that it had been there for a couple of days at least. I ignored it. I'd thought it was another thing stuck to my door, inviting me to a fucking bake sale or to see yet another mind numbingly boring school play or concert that somebody's kid was appearing in.

I went back into my house. For the rest of the day, I sulked. I brewed a pot of coffee and watched from my bedroom windows as the near army of men, boys and even some girls and women moved my new neighbor in. 

It took me weeks to get all of my stuff moved in. I had hired people several times to help with larger pieces that I couldn't move by myself. After a year, there were still things in my house that weren't unpacked or that needed to be assembled or moved. 

In most cases, I simply didn't bother. For the first time, I wondered why I continued to live out of suitcase and a few drawers. What was it going to take to make this house into a home? The life I'd left behind was over. There was no way I could or would ever go back there. This was now my home, like it or not. For not the first time I wondered if my anger would ever abate or if I would be this way forever. 

It's been said many times that life, and our experiences shape us and make us into the people that we become. I have no idea when it happened, but my life thus far had turned me into a first class bitch. 

It was three days before I saw him again. I heard him coming and going a few times during the week. The deep thrumming sound of his exhaust couldn't be mistaken. But he usually drove up his driveway and straight into his garage. He had some sort of motorized fence and one of those electric garage doors that opened automatically. It closed as soon as his car was inside of it. 

Anyway, Wednesday evening, I noticed that after he got home and then went out to wherever he went every evening, he came back and armed with another batch of bright blue papers he walked up and down the block. He knocked on almost every door and spent a few moments talking to people at every house. 

If no one was home, which only happened once, while I watched, he taped the flyer to their screen door. The route he had taken made a big rectangle, and I would be the last house he stopped at. A lot of the neighbors invited him in so it took a good two hours for him to do the entire block. 

I waited nervously for him to knock on my door. I looked at the clock and then noticed that it had gotten dark. I figured that someone had probably invited him to stay for dinner. 

Then I noticed that he had already gone home. I could tell because lights were going on and off in his house. I looked through my front door and saw a bright blue notice taped to my screen door. 

I opened the door and snatched it down. This time he was notifying his neighbors that he was having a pool dug and installed in his back yard. He expected it to take two weeks, with the first few days, while the digging machines were here being the loudest. The next loudest would be a few days later when the cement was poured. 

He wanted to impact the noise levels in the neighborhood as little as possible so the crew would only work from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon each day. They would also work part of that time on Saturday, but there would be "NO" work done on Sunday. I had a big suspicion that the Sunday part had something to do with me. 

He was also inviting everyone over to a pool party when it was finished and outfitted. 

I wonder why he didn't knock on my door, and the only other person he hadn't spoken to was the one who wasn't home. It bothered me more than I wanted to admit. 

The next thing that affected me was on the following Saturday. Since I work during the week, and wasn't home during the day, the digging of his pool never affected me. I could look into his back yard from the upper level of my house and see its progress but the noise never happened while I was home. 

But that next Saturday, I got up and went out to walk in the woods. I did some shopping afterwards and when I got home, I was surprised. My grass was neatly cut and edged. It looked amazing. I just stood there and stared at it. 

Seeing how good it looked made me notice for the first time how bad it had looked before. It wasn't hard to figure out who'd done it. He lived right next door and while he wasn't the only person on our block who'd cut his grass that morning, he was the only one who edged his grass. 

I was on the verge of walking over to his house and cursing him out, but something made me reconsider it. I wondered if that was what I really wanted to do. After thinking about it for a few moments, I decided to take a different approach. 

I did walk over to his house. I knocked on the door and heard a response telling me to come into the backyard. 

I blew out an angry breath and tried to calm myself down. I walked around into his backyard, and my mouth dropped open. I noticed that in the two weeks that he'd been here, the house was looking a lot better. But I had stared out into that yard for over a year, and it had always been ... Kind of barren to put it nicely. 

But now, it was transformed. He had clearly sodded the entire yard except for where the pool had been dug. There was still an area about two feet in width around the periphery of the yard that was bare soil. He obviously intended to put plants or shrubbery completely around the yard. There was already a six-foot privacy fence around the yard, but he was looking more for ambiance than privacy. 

The pool had not only been completely dug, and the thick fiberglass liner had been installed. It was larger than I expected. It looked as if it could be long enough to swim laps in. As I watched there were three workmen in the pool. Two of them were installing pumps and hoses; the other was drilling a hole that looked like it might be the main drain. 

Dennis was busy as well. He seemed to be multitasking. On one hand, he was installing stone tiles from the edge of the new deck down to and surrounding the pool. On the other hand, he had parts, pipes, and hoses from a hot tub that he was installing on the small deck. I almost stepped onto one of the thick stones he was installing, but I stopped before my foot touched it. 

He looked up at me and smiled. "You can step on it," he said. "That's what they're for."

I stepped onto the stones of the path he was putting in and got a surprise. The stone wasn't actually stone. It was a very realistic-looking rubber piece. It cushioned my feet as I stepped on it. Despite myself, I smiled. 

"There's no digging or hammering going on," he said. "I didn't think the noise was that bad?" 

"I'm not actually here about noise," I said. "Did you cut my grass?" 

"Did I cut it in a way that you don't like?" he asked. "Is it too short or not the way you like it done?"

"I'm more interested in WHY you did it?" I said. 

"Two weeks ago, I ruined your Sunday morning," he said. "And the people in the neighborhood were getting pretty pissed about you letting it "grow wild." It was a big topic of discussion at the last block club meeting. I figured I could kill two rats with one rock. I pay you back for disturbing your peace and calm down the restless neighbors at the same time. No one gets hurt, and everyone is happy. It's a win/win situation."

"Unless of course, I just wanted my grass to "grow wild," I said. "Maybe I was looking for more of a natural look as opposed to that neatly trimmed suburban look." 

"Ohhhhh," he said. The look on his face was one of horror. He looked so surprised that it almost made me laugh. Up close he really was kind of good-looking in a rugged manly sort of way. 

"Relax, cowboy," I said. "I was just too pre-occupied to cut it. And as for you ruining my Sunday ... I guess we're even." 

"Wait," he said as I turned to go. 

"Did you get the latest note I left on your door?" he asked tentatively. 

"The one about the pool and the pool party," I asked. He nodded. 

"Look, I should tell you ... I really don't do parties or groups of people. As a matter of fact, I don't do people at all. So thanks for thinking of me, but I'm going to have to decline." I turned to leave again. 

"Wait," he said yet again. I turned back to him and this time it was even harder to suppress my smile. 

He tore off a piece of paper from the wrapper of the tiles he was installing. He quickly scribbled something down on it and held it out to me. 

"You don't need to come to the party," he said. "But you can use the pool anytime you want. Just call me and I'll leave the fence open. I won't even come out here until you're done." 

I was amazed at his offer. I had no idea, whether or not I'd use his pool. But slipping into that hot tub after one of my longer hikes sounded like heaven. 

"I'm not promising you anything," I said. "But maybe..." He nodded. 

"In the meantime are there any other chores around my house that you're just burning to do?" I asked. He nodded with a smile. The way he looked at me was almost sensual. My body was definitely reacting to him. 

"I would love to wash your car," he said. 

"Uhm, that's kind of personal," I laughed. "We're gonna have to work our way up to that." 

I took one more look at the oasis he was turning that barren piece of dirt into and shook my head. He really wasn't that bad for a man. As soon as I got back inside of my house, I balled the piece of paper he'd given me up and threw it into my trash can. 

On a whim, I retrieved it. I took a few minutes and saved the number in the contacts on my phone. Then I threw the piece of paper away again. 

* * * * * *

Sarah

My stomach churned, I knew that I should get up and eat something. What was the expression? "Eating for two," well one of us, two, didn't want to eat anything, so the other would simply have to make do. 

If Dennis had been here he'd never have allowed me even to think about it. He'd have forced me to eat if necessary. But that would never have been necessary. My previous two pregnancies were joyous occasions. Dennis had been there pampering me and spoiling me and making it all seem like bringing a child into the world was a wonderful thing. We'd talk endlessly about how special he or she would be, and we'd discuss, argue, and bargain for weeks about what to name it. 

But this time it was so different. I was all alone. Not only was no one glad about the event, everyone I ran into either sneered at me or laughed at me. 

The whole thing was fodder for discussion and derision all over town. And now that news of my pregnancy had spread like wildfire, there was a new dimension added to the level of scorn I had to bear. 

Before, I was just a whore that had destroyed a family and made a good man miserable. Now I supposedly ruined Brad's life as well. I didn't have the chance to tell Brad. But the grapevine was in full effect. He showed up at my door, screaming and calling me names. This time he'd demanded that I get the abortion before it was too late. 

He screamed, demanded, and finally cried. I escorted him to the door, all of his bluster and demanding had morphed into begging and whining. He was pathetic. He was, in fact, as pathetic as I was. I realized for not the first time, the fool I had been. I also realized how wrong I had been in my assessment of my mistake. 

If you ask anyone in town, they'd tell you at the drop of a hat that I cheated on my husband by sleeping with another man. I was a lustful harlot or maybe even a rampaging nymphomaniac. 

But the reality was very different. Right now, I am as horny as a mountain goat but the thought of ever letting anyone other than Dennis touch me made me want to throw up. 

Another thing they were incorrect about was the fact that I had not cheated on my husband with another man. The sniveling, whining, lump of flesh in front of me wasn't a man. 




Talk of the Town



Sure, he had a fully grown male body. He had all the hormones and muscles necessary to be called a man in the eyes of the law. But that would be like calling a Boy Scout a soldier because they were both guys who wore uniforms. 

A man in this situation, would step up and shoulder his responsibility. Even in the case where neither of us wanted to be together, a man would take care of his child. Calling or even insinuating that Brad was a man was an insult to my husband and men everywhere. 

I had thrown away a lifetime of love with a MAN who worshiped me and supported my dreams, for some forgettable sex with a boy who at the first sign of trouble started crying for his mommy and looking for a way out of trouble. 

He was brave enough to stick his dick into another man's wife, but not brave enough to accept the responsibility for his actions. Dennis had been man enough to put aside his anger at me long enough to make sure that his children were provided for. And after that he had made provisions for the possibility that the child was his. And thinking back on it, he'd been sad that the baby wasn't his. 

Everything would have been so much better if the baby had been HIS. I knew for a fact that Brad would turn out to be a shitty father. Not only was he unprepared and unwilling to take on the role, he was unemployed and had no prospects. What the fuck had I been thinking? 

And everyone seemed to be coming out of this situation well ... Except for me. Brad's girlfriend was pretty. She'd found out what a skunk he was and had quickly found a better man for herself. 

Brad was seen by his friends as being some kind of stud. Chelsea, had seemingly become even closer with her dad, if that was possible. I could hear her telling her friends over the phone how much she loved his new house and how it was really HER house because he seemed to put everything she wanted in it. She had asked him for a pool and two weeks later they were building one. 

Even Dennis had found something to throw himself into, trying to get over me. I didn't speak to him. He seemed to be avoiding me like I was a bad dream or something. Even when he dropped Chelsea off, he was gone before she stepped into the house. The only way I could tell he was there was by the sound of his rapidly receding exhaust note. 

If I knew what was good for me, I would just have the procedure done and try to get my husband back. The funny thing about it is that despite the DNA results, I had the feeling that this WAS Dennis' child. And for that reason alone I had to carry it. I knew that Dennis would love this baby as much as he had the others. That thought refused to leave my mind. But I didn't dare tell anyone. 

And that was a big part of my problem. I doubted everything I did because recent events had proven that I had no idea what was good for me. My fling with Brad and what it cost me proved that. 

* * * * * *

Jaime

There I was hiking one of my favorite trails. It was another of those rare fall days. The leaves had changed into their awesomely beautiful fall colors. It was a wonderful day. And I had a sneaky secret. A few days ago after a hike, I'd used Dennis' hot tub. 

My legs had been aching after a particularly difficult hike. I'd noticed that he was going somewhere as I pulled in. So I'd hopped the fence into his yard. The pool was beautiful. The grass around the fake stone tiles was soft and comforting. 

I climbed the beveled wood of the stairs to the deck. The wood felt good under my bare feet. It was obvious that Dennis had lovingly picked out everything in this yard with comfort in mind. 

I looked around in every direction. The tub was already on. I began to wonder exactly how stealthy I was. Did Dennis somehow know what I was up to? Or was he getting ready for another visit?

The thought of Dennis dragging another woman over here to enjoy his yard with him made me feel something I had never felt before. I think it was jealousy. 

I kicked one of my long legs over the side of the tub. The water caressed my skin like a liquid glove. It wasn't hot; it was just warm. It was like some sort of comforting blanket of moisture. I sighed as the water covered me up to my shoulders leaving only my head out. 

My aching back, legs, and shoulders all cried out in unexpected pleasure. Aches in places that I didn't know were sore suddenly thanked me as my entire body relaxed. 

I knew then that I would be using this tub a lot. I did feel guilty about not calling Dennis to tell him that I was doing it. I felt like an asshole for abusing his ... His what? For a moment, I had almost forgotten that Dennis was a man. He was no different from the rest of them. They always wanted something, and they were never honest about it. 

Then I heard it. I looked at my watch. I swear I had just gotten into the tub, but somehow more than an hour had passed. That fucking tub must have been a time machine. I heard the distinctive sound of the exhaust system Dennis had in his Mustang. I jumped out of the tub and didn't bother trying to use my towel. I just grabbed it and ran down the steps. I used one of the trash cans as a launching platform and shinnied over the top of the fence between our yards just as Dennis pulled into the driveway. 

I ran up my stairs trailing drops of water with every step. I ran into my room and looked down into his backyard. And there I saw it. As I've said before men are extremely loathsome creatures. A part of me really wanted him to be different. But, then again, no one could be as nice as he seemed to be. 

I mean no one is perfect. We all have our skeletons in the closet. Now I knew what Dennis was covering up. I also knew why he needed the high privacy fence. 

Dennis pulled his high-powered Mustang into the yard, and the fence closed behind him obscuring his car from prying eyes. His garage door opened automatically, and he pulled the car inside of it. 

Away from almost any possible onlookers, Saint Dennis got out of his car with not one but two very young women. They were all laughing and joking as they went into his house. My blood seethed as I watched him. A part of me was relieved, but another part died. I guess, deep down, I really did want him to be different. 

Twenty minutes later, the two women, girls really came out onto his deck. They obviously wanted to show off for Dennis. They were both wearing swim suits. The two girls couldn't have been more different. One had brown hair; the other was a blonde. 

The one with the brown hair was slimmer. Her body was nice but as I said on the slim side. She looked as if she was only seventeen or eighteen and due for a growth spurt. Her friend, on the other hand, was gifted. 

The blonde was taller than her friend and very curvy. Her boobs and backside were bigger than mine, and I'm a grown ass woman. From the way, she swung her ass as she walked around she probably had far more sexual experience than I have. And the swim suit she wore left nothing to the imagination. The brown-haired girl wore a far more sensible one-piece suit. 

The blonde dove into the pool and got out shivering. She ran back onto the porch, and I laughed. 

The stupid whore obviously forgot that it was, despite our string of warmer than normal temperatures, November. She joined her friend in the hot tub. 

Dennis came out onto the deck then and deposited a pizza on the table. In a fashion that was typical of teenaged girls, they squealed in delight and started devouring the pizza. The blond was especially animated. She was really trying to earn whatever she was getting paid. For some reason, she found it necessary to lean as far forward as she could while deciding which slice of pizza to eat. 

Her position caused her sizable young breasts almost pop out of her top. She was clearly trying to show herself to him. She couldn't have been more obvious if she'd just jumped up and down screaming, "look at my titties." 

But somehow Dennis didn't seem to notice. That pissed me off even more. He clearly chose the smaller, more innocent of the two girls. There was definitely a chemistry between them. The sluttier girl obviously was brought in for a threesome.

I turned away in disgust, vowing never to speak to him again. I was happy in some ways and disappointed in others. I made myself a cup of tea and thought about it. 

It suddenly hit me that I thought about Dennis a lot. There had only been one man in my life that I'd spent as much time thinking about, and I'd married him. 

I realized then that I was happy that Dennis was a possible pedophile because I needed a reason not to let myself like him. I was disappointed in him because on some level I had already begun to see him as a part of my life. 

I turned the lights off in my house and sipped my tea as I stared out the windows and into Dennis' house. Who's the pervert now? I wondered, as I searched his lit up windows. Was I excited by the thought of seeing Dennis with the two young girls or had it simply been so long since I'd had sex that I was desperate to live it out if only vicariously? 

One by one all the lights in the house went out, leaving only one. I looked into it and saw only the two girls. They were both in nightgowns, and they were laughing and doing something on the computer. Where the fuck was Dennis? Something was off. Another thing that was odd was the fact that he didn't spend any time with the girls. He brought them food and then went about his business. 

He couldn't be asleep could he? What was the purpose of paying money for hookers and then not using them? There was something weird going on. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted it. I'd been so busy looking at the house and all the brightly lit windows winking out one at a time that I failed to notice the very slight glow illuminating the rear deck. 

I ran to my bedroom where I could see the deck. And there he was; Dennis was on the deck, alone. And suddenly, I don't know how I knew. Perhaps it was a subconscious reading of his body language. Perhaps it was some sort of innate empathetic connection, but I knew that Dennis was hurting. 

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who sensed it. I saw the smaller girl get off of the chair in the room, leaving the slutty girl at the computer. I knew immediately where she was going. 

I ran as quickly as I could to my side door. It faced away from Dennis' house. I opened it and slipped out as quietly as I could. I stealthily made my way around my house until I was kneeling by the fence as close to Dennis' deck as I could get. 

I heard the girl sliding the door open and stepping out onto the deck. The next thing I heard almost caused me to cry out in surprise. With one sentence, everything changed. 

"Daddy, why are you out here crying in the dark?" she asked. "I thought you were over her. She's not worth your tears. That's why you divorced her. And you had to. You have to get over this. You can't let her ruin your entire life. What do you always tell me? You have to move past it and get on with your life." 

My head exploded. I had to get away. I quickly crept back around the side of my house and into the door. I screamed out in frustration as soon as the closed door gave me the privacy necessary to vent. 

I truly was crazy. Why was I trying so hard to find something wrong with Dennis when he'd given me no reason to suspect any type of ulterior motive? The girl as no hooker, she was his daughter. The other girl was simply one of her friends. The bigger girl was at that awkward teenaged stage where she'd just come into her body and was testing her limits. Dennis didn't pay her any attention. 

The conversation on the porch revealed something else. It had been something I could identify with. Dennis had clearly just gone through a very nasty divorce. And from his daughter's tone and words, it was obvious that he hadn't been the one at fault. 

It was also obvious that whatever the woman had done; Dennis was trying really hard to make a new life for himself, but he had yet to fully get over her. We were more alike than I had ever considered. But there was a difference between us. 

Dennis soldiered on and tried to make a new life for himself. He got a new house and threw himself into making it a new place for himself and for his daughter's visits. He got to know his neighbors and tried to make new friends and start a new life. He treated everyone with kindness and hid his own pain behind a mask of being the happy-go-lucky friendly guy. He took all of his pain on himself. 

I, on the other hand, hid behind a mask of being angry all the God damned time. I literally took my divorce out on every man I met. I painted them all with the same brush strokes. Two men had hurt me so in my twisted point of view; I hated all men. 

I think the biggest difference between us was that Dennis was brave while I was a coward. He had tried to plunge back into life, while I hid from it. He had embraced the idea of making new friends, while I closed myself off from everyone. 

If we continued on our chosen paths, the results would also be different. Dennis would eventually meet another woman and start a life with her. I would end up one of those angry old women who lived with twenty six cats. 

* * * * * *

Sarah

Life just kept getting better. Too bad there was no one around to appreciate my sarcasm. I went over to have coffee with my next-door neighbor. I decided that it was time for me to stop hiding and start trying to put my life back together. 

There was no reason for me to continue hiding. Everyone in town already knew or thought they knew what was going on in my life. 

Rhonda and I had gone through far worse than this together. I was sure that our friendship would survive this. I walked out of my house and over to hers. I knocked on the door and heard her moving around in the house. 

She opened the door, recognized me and her eyes widened in surprise. 

"Hi Rhonnie," I said. "I thought I'd stop by for ..." I paused as I noticed that the look of surprise on her face was replaced by revulsion. 

"Why," she asked. 

"Well ..." I smiled. "We always have coffee a few times a week." 

"What I meant was how you could do that to Dennis, Sarah?" she gushed. "You cheated on him with a kid. And now you're trying to force the kid to help you raise your ... Uhm ..." 

"Baby," I said. "It's a baby Rhonda. It isn't responsible for my mistake. Brad, on the other hand, is over eighteen. He's a fully grown adult male. He can be drafted. He can vote. He can get married. He can get a mortgage. He can as sure as hell consent to sex. But it's all my fault, isn't it Rhonda? 

Once we got started, he was always after me. He couldn't get enough of ramming his dick into me. It's really funny that there were two of us there fucking away like there was no tomorrow, but everyone in town wants to blame me for something that both of us did. 

I was out of it, Rhonnie. Just like you, I'm getting older. I'll be forty soon. And unlike your husband who's already old, Dennis with all of his running and crap just seems to be getting younger. Did you know that several of Chelsea's friends have crushes on him? Okay he's never noticed it, but they do. 

The only person who ever had a crush on me is my husband. My ass is too big. My tits are the size of gallon jugs, and my tummy will never be flat again. What would you do if some younger guy started making moves on you? 

At first, it was flattering, and I laughed about it. Then I grew to crave that attention. So I started to feed it. I showed a little cleavage and some leg, that was all. We all do it Rhonnie. The next thing I knew, we were fucking. And that was all it was, Rhonnie. It was only sex. Do you know that he never kissed me? I never kissed him either. I never wanted to. 

We had no illusions about growing old together or making a baby. When I gave in the first time, I only intended for it to happen once. The rest is history. And you should know that he used me as much as everyone seems to think that I used him. He deserves to have to alter his life the way mine is being altered. It's not fair Rhonnie. I lose my husband, my family, my home, and even the respect of my children while he goes off and starts screwing a bunch of other women. I end up branded a whore. He ends up branded a stud. How does that work? 

I don't give a fuck about what happens to Brad, Rhonnie. He cost me Dennis. 

I love Dennis, Rhonnie. Did you notice that I didn't say loved? I love him to this day, and I always will. I am hoping and praying with all of my heart that someday he'll forgive me and give me a second chance. But right now, he's just too angry. 

The man that I love threw me away and is starting his life over. Did you know that he has another house? Did you know that he had a pool put in and a hot tub? Dennis is starting his life over without me. What the fuck will I do if he starts dating?" 

"Sarah, this is all your fault," she said. "It's easy to say that Brad was old enough to make his own decisions. But while you're saying that you have to remember that you're almost twice his age. So surely you're old enough to be just as responsible for your decisions as he was for his. 

You talked about getting older and Dennis staying young. It sounds like even more bullshit. Dennis stays in shape because he runs, and he works out, but at the end of the day you said it yourself, Dennis never so much as looked at another woman.  

Didn't you just point out that some of your daughter's friends ... Some of those hot young girls with springy asses, and jiggling tits had crushes on him, and he never paid them any fucking attention. He loved YOU, Sarah. And I for one hope he does find someone else. Stop playing the fucking victim. You have no one to blame for what happened to you except for yourself. I mean, think about it. Once you did start cheating why not invest in that new invention they have out. I think they call them condoms. Even if you didn't think you could get pregnant you could still have given Dennis a disease. Brad fucks every whore he can get his dick into. Grow up and take responsibility for what you did, Sarah. No one in this town has any fucking sympathy for you. If there's anyone we feel sorry for, it's Dennis." Then she closed the door in my face. 

Over the next few weeks, I was met with rejection everywhere I turned. I couldn't so much as get close to Brad to discuss our child or our options. I turned to his parents, and they had absolutely no willingness to talk to me. When I brought up the fact that the child I was carrying was their grandchild, the mother turned on me. 

"How do we know that?" she hissed. I was shocked. 

"I had a DNA test done," I told her. 

"We know that," she said. "Everyone knows that. It was the talk of the town. But your DNA test only proved that Dennis ISN'T the father. It didn't prove that Brad IS." 

My jaw hit the floor. "But ...!" I gasped. 

"But nothing," said her husband. "How do we even know that Brad was the only guy you were cheating on Dennis with. And you need to stop running all over town claiming that Brad is the father of that child when it hasn't been proven. If we have to, we'll get a lawyer and sue you for slander." 

"You can't sue me for slander," I yelled. "Dennis hired a PI. He has video of Brad and me together. I can prove that we had sex." 

"Can you prove that he was the only one?" he fired right back. "I've heard of a few other guys who claim to have ..." 

I ran out of the door. What he was saying was simply not true. I admitted from the first to cheating on Dennis. But it was a simple lapse of judgment not a character flaw. Brad had been the only person I had EVER cheated on Dennis with. Things in my life were getting worse and worse. 

Surprisingly, I turned to the one place I had always found support. I called Dennis. He always found time to talk to me. I would tell him about how I was being treated and how I hated it. He always listened and even gave me advice occasionally. His most constant pieces of advice were to ignore the people in town. Eventually, they would get over it. He also told me that looking back would only make things worse. I had to look forward to the rest of my life.