27 comments/ 47835 views/ 18 favorites Bad Choice, Good Choice By: amyyum Hi, I'm Amy. My last name changes throughout this story, so that's all I'll call myself. This is a story of good and bad choices. My story starts when I was just out of college, with a finance degree from Georgetown (with twelve additional credits in Masters Level courses). I don't know why I went to Georgetown because I'm not Catholic and it's very expensive (although I had a scholarship covering tuition and books). However, it is in Washington, D. C., which was the most exciting place I'd ever been to, way different from my hometown of Ames, Iowa. I sent resumes to a dozen organizations in Washington, D. C. One of the places where I interviewed for a job was a government relations consulting firm with the unusual name of "Go To Consulting LLC." It was one of the smaller firms of its type, only three principals and about fifteen total employees, but a high powered one. They made me the second best monetary offer that I got from the half-dozen interviews that I had at a wide variety of different businesses, and had the most appealing work, so I accepted. Although it played no conscious part in my decision, one thing that was appealing about Go To was how hot one of the partners was. When I accepted the job Ken Vanderlee was thirty one, nine years older than I was, and though the youngest of the three principals obviously the most dynamic. He was ten inches taller than my five foot seven inch height, with a toned body, a shock of blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. His eyes looked more into your soul than your face when he made eye contact. He was energetic, smart, and treated everyone with respect. After I worked for Go To for a while I was even more impressed with Ken, and developed a significant crush on him; one that I didn't anticipate acting upon. That is, I had no illusions about stealing Ken from his wife – whose beautiful visage and sleek body were prominently displayed in a large photo on Ken's wall. However, things can happen, and if they did there was no reason for me not to be ready. I quickly learned that the other two principals of the firm were not the same caliber of people as Ken is. One, Tom Keating, was a forties-something letch. It didn't seem to make any difference to him that he had been married almost twenty years – anything in a skirt was fair game. I politely but firmly shot him down at least fifteen times. Finally I got sick of it and in his presence loudly talked to a co-worker about my imaginary uncle who was a plaintiff's lawyer specializing in sexual harassment cases. "My uncle told me that if I ever have a problem to let him know and he'll make me a rich woman," I pointedly proclaimed in Keating's presence. Keating finally got the message and stopped coming-on to me. The other principal, Simon Crowe, was an obese, balding fifty year old with nicotine-stained teeth who seemed to be a heart attack waiting to happen. He was usually gruff and all business, with poor social skills. I enjoyed my time at Go To Consulting and got regular raises the three years that I worked there. While I had a crush on Ken most of those three years I never acted on it in any way, and he was always a gentleman, even the two times that we traveled together on business and stayed three nights in a hotel each time. I dated regularly during my time at Go To, but kept my social life apart from my work life. When I had been at Go To for about two years my parents died in a car crash. I was an only child, and they were both only children. Three of my four grandparents were also deceased, and the fourth – my grandmother on my mother's side – lived in Washington State, three thousand miles away, and we never had been close. She was basically an aging hippy who had divorced my grandfather (who raised my mom as a single father) many years ago. I was totally devoid of family. Ken was very warm and compassionate when I got the news about my parents' deaths. He was willing to give me as much time off – with pay and not counting vacation – as I needed to deal with it, although I only took a few days off because I needed to work to stay sane. He was the only person from my office, except for my best friend Sybil, who came to the funeral in Iowa. That meant a lot to me. Shortly after my parents died I met a guy named Jean LeBlanc. Jean was from New Orleans and was working for a Congressman from Louisiana as a special assistant for technology. He had a degree in marine engineering. He was a year older than I was and probably the most handsome and charming (looking back on it maybe more glib than charming) guy that I had ever dated. Maybe what most attracted me to him, however, was his talk about his large and close family which – being family-less myself – I thought was great. I certainly didn't recognize any problems with Jean's demeanor or character in the year or so that we went out before he proposed to me. Bad Choice I eagerly accepted Jean's marriage proposal. We had a few issues – such as he wanted kids right away while I wanted to wait several years to establish my career – and his desire to move back to Louisiana once his present job was up. I thought we could work out any kinks. At an engagement party for Jean and I in Washington, D. C. – which Ken and his wife attended along with all of my co-workers, Tom Keating and Simon Crowe being the only no-shows – Ken was unusually pensive near the end of the evening. I had seen him talking to Jean quite a bit. I met Ken's wife Gillian for the first time. Though she was even more beautiful and sexy in real life than in the large photo in Ken's office she also acted bored and haughty, like her shit didn't stink. I wondered how a great guy like Ken could be married to a bitch – but maybe that was just because I had feelings for Ken and she wasn't really that bad. Ken cornered me as things were breaking up and asked me a number of pointed questions about Jean and my goals. He raised some issues that I hadn't thought of. While he didn't come out and say it I got the distinct impression that he was concerned that I was making a bad decision. Despite the enormous amount of respect that I had for Ken, however, I shrugged it off. ______________ Jean and I decided to get married in Baton Rouge, Louisiana; actually, he suggested it and since I had no family and he had a big family it only made sense. I took a trip to Baton Rouge before the wedding to meet all of his relatives. It was truly an eye-opening experience for me. I was shocked at how many relatives that he had, including: his mother and father; three older sisters and a younger brother; three brothers; seven or eight nieces or nephews (I never got a good count); at least ten aunts and ten uncles; and an endless array of cousins of all ages. Jean's spectacularly beautiful mother Adele – obviously where he got his good looks – was Cajun through and through. She always called me "Sha," never "Amy." I was confused at first since the Cajun word "Sha" is pronounced "Cher" (at least to my untrained-to-Cajun-lingo ear) and I thought that despite how completely friendly she was to me that she didn't know my name. Jean laughed when I told him that. "'Sha' is a term of affection, akin to 'dear one,' or 'sweetheart.' It also is an exclamatory expression indicating cuteness. Everyone in my family thinks that you're the cutest thing that they've ever seen in their life," he explained between laughs. "You'll get used to Cajun lingo quickly." Jean was really serious about moving to Baton Rouge once his job with the Congressman was up. While I was reticent, I could understand him wanting to be near his family, and I so wanted to be part of a big family that I hoped that it would work out for me too. With a great recommendation from Ken I quite easily got a job as the assistant finance director for Louisiana State University and Agricultural & Mechanical College (commonly known as LSU) in Baton Rouge, the best school in the state. The wedding reception was raucous. His already energetic friends and family, when fueled by booze, were off-the-charts wild. It was primarily good fun although I was a little non-plussed at how Jean's brother, Andre, and some of his male cousins handled me when dancing. Jean didn't seem to be upset by it, however. When Adele saw me with a scowl on my face after a dance with Jean's brother Andre and asked what the problem was I told her flat out. I didn't have the problem again that night. Sex with Jean was always good, although not the best of my life. It would have been better except that he seemed to be less concerned with my orgasm than other partners that I had had, and he seemed less than thrilled to eat me, although he sure enjoyed me sucking his cock. He got a little more responsive on the honeymoon and I started out married life fairly well satisfied. One thing that did bug me was the LeBlanc family's attitude about kids. All three of Jean's sisters got pregnant with their first kid within a year of getting married and all family members incessantly lobbied me. I had every intention of waiting three or four years and I made that clear that I was going to stay on the pill until then. It was the only bone of contention between Adele and me; we otherwise got along well. I did notice, however, that no one in the LeBlanc extended family ever crossed Adele. ________________ Some unusual things happened after Jean and I had been married about six months. Jean had picked up a three months' supply of my birth control pills for me after we had been married about four months when I had run out and I had a special project at work that I had to finish. They looked a little different than normal, although in a package that clearly said "Lo/Ovral-28 tablets" on it, made by Pfizer, the product that I had been using since college. I didn't think much of it. Out of the blue Jean informed me that he had taken a job as the head engineer on a research vessel going to Antarctica for five months. "What the fuck? You accepted that type of job without even consulting me?" I screamed when he boldly informed me of it one Friday after work. "Listen, Sha, I need it to advance my career. You knew that I was a marine engineer when we got married," he indignantly replied. "Don't 'Sha' me," I sniped back. "You never once told me that your career advancement required being gone for five months, or anything close. What the hell am I supposed to do?" "Hey, my family will always be around to help; plus haven't you made friends at work?" he replied. "I don't want your family, I want you," I snapped. We had a big argument that didn't solve anything. He did leave a week later; I was almost too pissed to see him off, but pulled it together and tried to put a brave face on it, and actually gave him a crocodile smile, some crocodile tears, and a kiss more passionate than he deserved, when he left. It wasn't more than two days after he left that I started to get nausea in the morning. I thought that I was coming down with the flu. I mentioned it to Carole, one of my older female co-workers. Her eyes got big. "Are you sure you're not pregnant, Sha?" she asked. By now I was used to everyone calling me "Sha." "I can't be, I'm on the pill," I replied. "What pill?" she asked. "Lo/Ovral, from Pfizer," I responded. "That's my brand too. I hope that you didn't get a batch that was recalled," she said, almost flooring me. "What recall?" I said after regaining my composure. "Since I take the same pill my pharmacist told me about a fairly recent Pfizer recall of ineffective pills. They're not harmful, just ineffective. You should check it out," she told me. "I will, right away," I retorted, starting to feel a different type of nausea. I called my OB/GYN and begged to let me see her the next day. She made time in her schedule. She performed a pregnancy test, told me that I was roughly six weeks pregnant, and confirmed that the pills that I showed her were from the recalled batch. "You need to see why the pharmacist sold these to your husband. He should have known better," she bluntly told me. Although in a daze I was also hopping mad. I stormed into the pharmacy where Jean had purchased the pills and demanded to see the pharmacist. I was surprised when it was Julien, an old friend of Jean's who had attended our wedding reception. Seeing how mad I was he ushered me into his office, told his assistants to take over, and shut the door. "How could you be so fucking stupid as to sell Jean recalled birth control pills?" I snapped as soon as the door clicked shut. "Now calm down, Sha," were his first words – that "Sha" shit again. "Don't 'Sha' me; answer the fucking question," I yelled. "OK, Amy, it's not my fault. When Jean came in he hadn't called ahead so I filled the prescription myself when he got here while he waited. I checked the dates and lot numbers just before I gave them to him, and noticed that they were from the recalled batch," he said, quite ashen. "Then why did you sell them to him?" I asked. "I didn't. I told him that they were recalled, but he begged me to let him have the recalled pills in addition to the real ones. He told me that he was going to bet some guys that he could take them all himself and not get sick. I told him that was stupid but he insisted, so I removed them from the boxes since I needed the boxes to get my money back for purchasing them, and let him have them. But I swear that I filled the prescription with real, effective, pills and told him to be sure not to mix them up," Julien continued, starting to stutter his words and perspire. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My asshole husband had intentionally given me the recalled pills by putting them in the normal pill boxes. I stumbled out of the pharmacy like a zombie. Julien was obviously concerned. He followed me out and offered to drive me home. I guess I accepted, although I don't remember for sure, because I know that he dropped me off at my apartment in my car and called a cab. I took a day off of work to settle down before I called Jean. There were certain times when he could call out, or I could call in, despite the fact that he was on a ship that by now was halfway to Antarctica. I waited for three or four minutes before they tracked him down. "Hi, Sha, I'm glad to hear from you, but I didn't expect a call now," he opened the conversation with a cheerful voice. "I didn't expect to get pregnant, but you saw to that by giving me ineffective, recalled pills, didn't you 'Sha'" I said in a syrupy sweet voice. The line was silent long enough for me to know that he had consciously switched the pills so no matter what his subsequent denials would be I knew that they would be lies. "Uh, Sha, uh, whatever do you mean?" were his next, stuttering, words. "You know what the fuck I mean; I talked to Julien," I snapped. "Uh, listen, Sha, you should be happy you're pregnant. Some women try for a long time..." he blabbered. "Shut the fuck up, you asshole! I was taking the pills because I didn't want a baby now, and you unilaterally made the decision to ignore my wishes and my right to determine what I do with my body! The abortion will be your doing, not mine," I screamed and then slammed the phone down. I didn't have any intention of getting an abortion. I have always been pro-choice because I believe that every woman has the absolute right to determine what she does with her body. That doesn't mean that I personally want an abortion, and considering that I was married didn't view that as an option that would work for me. However, it would drive Jean completely nuts to think that I would abort! The phone rang several times in the next half hour. I knew that it was Jean, or someone calling on his behalf, so I ignored it. About ten minutes after the last time that it rang there was a knock on my door – it was Adele. "Oh, Sha, Jean told me the great and the awful news – that you're pregnant and that you want to abort. Sha, you can't do that," she said in a firm voice, although there was an undercurrent of hysteria behind it. I saw her husband, Jean's father, Buford, standing behind her, not frantic but white as a ghost. "Come in, sit down, you two," I replied as calmly as I was able to. Once I got them seated I hit them between the eyes. "I know more than you think, so you better be honest with me," I sternly said while the three of us were seated. "What did you know about Jean switching pills on me?" They both looked sheepish. Adele wouldn't make eye contact. Buford started squirming in his chair. I didn't think that Adele would fess up, but I thought that Buford was one of only a few straight shooters in the family. I got up, lifted up his chin so that he had to look at me, got in his face and said "Tell me straight, Buford or things will go to complete merde in a hurry." "Merde" is the French word for "shit." I didn't know if Cajuns used it, but from the look on Buford's face I could tell that he understood. After a pregnant (pardon the pun) pause he stammered out "I told Jean that it was a bad idea." Adele stood up and crossed her arms. "Listen, Amy," she started out. I didn't remember her ever calling me "Amy" before. "What's done is done. Maybe it wasn't the best decision by Jean, but you need kids while you're young, and he was just..." I cut her off. "What the fuck do you mean; you think that I'm a chattel that he can do with what he wants, or that because he has a dick that he's got a superior mind. No one controls my body but me!" She pushed her finger into my chest. "You can do whatever you want except for one thing, Amy. You're not going to kill one of my grandchildren. Your life wouldn't be worth crawdad shit if you abort my grandchild." The look in her eye was terrifying. I instinctively backed up. I could have told her that I wasn't going to abort anyway but had just told Jean that to give him some of the pain that I felt, but I wouldn't give Adele the satisfaction. Buford got between me and the wild-eyed bitch. His words came out with a deferential stammer, not threatening. "It was a terrible thing that Jean did, Amy, but he loves you dearly, and given his background he thought that having a child was the best way to express his love. That's the way my family, and Adele's, have always looked on things. I'm so sorry that the timing of this stinks, but you know you wanted to have kids eventually anyway. Please, please have the baby." I got a little bluster back and sternly told them "I'll make my decision in the next week. What the two or you, or your asshole son, have to say will have no bearing whatsoever on my decision. Now leave. NOW!" Buford ushered Adele out as she swore at me and made it absolutely clear that she'd kill me if I had an abortion. I gave her the finger as I closed the door on them, and then collapsed to the floor in tears. I was so upset that for the first time in my life I needed to talk to someone – confidentially. I talked to a psychology professor at LSU who I had become friends with. She primarily let me vent, told me that no one could advise me what to do in such a personal circumstance, and left the door open for us to talk some more if I thought that it would help. I realized that she was right. Despite the betrayal that I felt I decided to try and reconcile with Jean. A week after my talk with him I finally answered the phone when he called. "Hi, Amy. I'm glad you answered. I really miss you and need to talk," he said. Although I was going to try reconciliation, I wasn't about to let him off the hook. "If you miss me so much why did you leave to begin with? And what do we have to talk about since you felt that you could dictate what my plans were without giving a shit about what I wanted?" I snapped. "Listen, Amy, dear...I'm really sorry. But look at it like this. People get pregnant all of the time by accident. You can just look at it like that?" he said in a syrupy sweet voice. Bad Choice, Good Choice "Yeah, but it wasn't an accident. It was intentional, making you a complete asshole, not who I thought that I was marrying," I sternly replied. We went back and forth for a few minutes, not accomplishing much. Then he said "Now listen, Amy, honey; you've really pissed my Mom off. There's a reason that no one in the family crosses her – she can become unhinged. She's always liked you but if you go ahead with an abortion, I really don't know what she'll do." "So in other words, I have to watch my back for fear of my mother stabbing me in it for the rest of my life?" I queried. His serious response floored me. "Only if you have an abortion." I was speechless for a few seconds. Then I developed a quick excuse as to why I had to get off the phone. My mind was still in turmoil when I got home from work the next night. There was a knock at my door. It was Andre, Jean's brother. Through the peephole I saw that he had flowers and candy. "What do you want, Andre?" I coldly asked without opening the door. "I have a peace offering from Mom, Dad and Jean," he said, sounding polite rather than full of himself like he normally does. "Please let's talk – just a few minutes," he pleaded. Foolishly, I let him in. After I put the flowers in a vase and offered him a chocolate as we were making small talk his obnoxiousness came to the surface. "Say, Sha; Mom was wondering whether maybe your attitude is in part due to Jean not being able to service you properly," Andre said with an evil look. "What?" I asked. I couldn't believe what I had just heard. "Yeah, she and Jean thought that maybe while he's gone that I could help you out. I'm sure it's frustrating for you not to get sex when you want it with Jean gone, and it would improve your outlook on life if I filled that need." He honestly said that as he approached me and put a hand on one of my arms. "Are you fucking crazy?" I yelled. "I wouldn't let you touch me if you were the last guy on earth. Now get the fuck out of here." "Now Sha," he said as he pulled me to him and started kissing my neck. He apparently didn't expect a pregnant woman to be violent. Fortunately I still had my heels on (only two inches high, but narrow) so I slammed my right heel on the toes on his left foot as hard as I could. He screamed and loosened his grip. I pulled away from him causing him to rip my dress. Before he recovered – and while he was red and swearing as he reached for me again – I picked a paper weight off of the desk at the corner of the living room and hit him on the side of the head – twice. He went down after the second blow. I ran to the apartment of a neighbor I was friendly with. Fortunately she was home. I went into her apartment, told her to lock the door, and I called 911. When I was sure that the police were almost at my apartment I went to meet them. Andre was starting to stir, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands and a significant amount of blood nearby. I told the cops my story, they saw my ripped dress – and a deep scratch that he had put on my arm that I didn't even know was there – and talked to my neighbor. While I was at it I told them about Adele's threat and Jean's confirmation of it. They took Andre away handcuffed in an ambulance. At that point I could no longer deny that I had made a mistake in getting involved with the LeBlanc family, and that my relationship with Jean, Adele and Andre was beyond repair – and that I didn't want to repair it. I called my grandmother's phone number from my apartment several times that night. I never got ahold of her but I didn't really want to; I just wanted there to be a record of my calls to Washington State. I stayed on the phone for several minutes each time not saying anything to voice mail. Good Choice The next day I packed two suitcases with only the things that I valued most. I went to our joint bank account and cleaned it out; unfortunately it had only about $3,000. We had more money in a joint brokerage account, but accessing that on short notice and without Jean's concurrence would be problematic. When I got to work the first thing that I did was to call Sybil, my best friend from Go To Consulting. I only chatted for a minute before getting to the essence of my call. "Sybil, I have to get out of this situation on an emergency basis. I'm pregnant and actually fear for my life or well-being. Is there any chance that I could stay with you for a week or so until I figure out what to do?" I pleaded. "Sure, Amy; but it could only be for a week because I'm moving in with Jeff next week. You remember Jeff, don't you?" she replied. I only vaguely remembered him, but pretended differently. "Oh sure – that's great. A week is all that I need. Say, one more thing – is there any chance that there's some part-time work at Go To for a preggo?" "Actually, there might be because June – you remember her – is going on maternity leave two weeks from now. Do you want me to ask Ken?" she responded. "Sure! By the way, how is Ken?" I genuinely asked. "Girl, there has been so much happening around here since you left. Ken booted Crowe and Keating out, has a new partner, a 50s something woman by the name of Alicia Johnson, and Ken's getting a divorce," she rattled out. "What the fuck!" I exclaimed. "Are you kidding me? What's the story?" I babbled. "I can't talk at the office. Get your ass to my apartment pronto and I'll tell you the whole story. Oh – and by the way – Ken has asked me if I've heard from you," she giggled. "I'll be there tomorrow night," I screamed. I immediately went into my boss' office, explained the entire situation to him and Carole, and with tears in my eyes said that I had to leave and couldn't even tell them where. They both gave me a big hug and wished me the best. I told them I'd email Carole and tell her what bank account to deposit my last check in. I sent the larger suitcase by UPS two day air to Sybil's apartment, and kept the smaller one with me as I went to the Greyhound bus station. With my credit card – the last purchase I would make with it aside from lunch that day – I bought a bus ticket to Redmond, Washington, via Seattle. With cash I bought a ticket to Washington, D. C. and a burner phone. I threw my cellphone in the trash after removing and smashing the SIM card. I got to D. C. late the next day. I called Sybil and she picked me up from the bus station. I was beat, but I had to hear the news before I slept. "OK, Amy, I'll tell what I know; but I don't have all of the details since Ken has been closed mouth about it. There's speculation but no facts for some of it," Sybil excitedly says. "I want to hear it all, gossip, fact, speculation, drama, everything," I chuckled. I must have said "No Shit!" fifty times as Sybil related all the gory details to me. I'll summarize it. Apparently some dispute with Simon and Tom about my severance pay when I left – I thought it was generous at two months' pay, but apparently Ken had lobbied for more – made Ken suspicious. Ken had a forensic accountant go through all the books one weekend when Simon and Tom weren't around. Ken found out that they had been cheating him – and the Government. He didn't even give them a chance to make restitution since he didn't want his reputation sullied in any way. He went right to the DA; they were arrested and indicted on Tuesday and subsequently plead out to avoid significant jail time, paid the government back taxes, and got nothing from the business – Ken kept it all due to a clause in the LLC agreement. As far as the divorce was concerned apparently Ken found his wife, Gillian, having sex with another guy at their condo. Things relating to that are sketchy; the only things that Sybil knew for sure were that the police paid Ken a visit at the office relating to what he did to the guy fucking his wife, but he was never arrested or charged. Gillian paid two tearful visits to the office, and each time left a session in Ken's office where he screamed at her in more tears. Eventually Ken hired a security guard to keep her out of Go To. Apparently Ken had an ironclad pre-nup and Gillian was screwed monetarily. I was wiped out emotionally from Sybil's stories, as well as physically from the bus ride. What Sybil said next, however, made it difficult for me to sleep. "I talked to Ken and he wants you to come in tomorrow or the next day. He has something for you. He got an enormous smile, which he then quickly but unsuccessfully tried to suppress, when I told him that you were coming back to D. C." I was giddy the entire night and got little sleep. I decided to wait a day before going in to see Ken. I wanted to look my best. By then I was eight weeks pregnant, but obviously not showing yet. I got out my sexiest outfit that was still suitable for an office environment from my large suitcase that had by then been delivered to Sybil's apartment. I thought that I looked good when I went with Sybil to the office two days after I had arrived back in D. C. When I saw Ken my heart leapt – there was no doubt that I still had a crush on that hunk. When he greeted me with a sincere minute long hug my pussy started soaking my undies. "Amy, you look fantastic," he said after finally releasing me. "I thought that you were pregnant, but you look as sleek as always." "Uh...thanks, Ken," I was able to stammer out, trying to regain my composure after that great hug. "I'm only eight weeks pregnant so I probably won't start showing for another eight to ten weeks. Except for some morning sickness, pregnancy seems to agree with me." "I understand from Sybil that you're running away – do you trust me enough to tell me the entire story, as a friend? I'm anxious to help if I can," he said in a serious tone, looking into my soul with his steel blue eyes, like he always seemed to do. I told him the entire story. He asked a few questions and jotted down notes on a pad. "Are you going to seek a divorce?" he asked when I finished, in a tone that said that I'd be a moron if I didn't. "Yes, as soon as I can find an attorney that I can afford," I replied. "Do you have a place to stay?" "With Sybil until the end of next week – then I don't know where, but I'll find something." "Can you work here part time – twenty-thirty hours a week?" "I'd love that Ken!" I gushed. "OK, let's do this. I'll take care of the attorney for you. It was the poor severance that my two asshole partners insisted that you get that caused me to investigate them, so I owe you big time. Also, at the end of next week you can move into the company condo at the Watergate for a couple of months – we'll figure out other arrangements after that. You can start work Monday – we've missed your stellar abilities at your old job and the person ostensibly doing it now really needs help. I'll pay 20% more than what would have been your hourly rate when you left. Is that OK?" Ken rattled out. "Are you kidding? Is that 'OK?'" I said starting to sob. "Oh Ken, thank you, I'll never be able to repay you for your kindness." Since I was sobbing I really can't be sure, but I thought that I heard Ken mumble out of the side of his big grin "You'd be surprised!" _______________ Things could not have worked out much better than they did the next two months. The office work – which turned into thirty five hours a week – was rewarding, the business condo was comfortable, and being around Ken – not just at work but for dinners with others, or alone, working out at a health club, and excursions to baseball games, the Circus, and to Atlantic City – was exhilarating. While he showed platonic affection toward me, he never tried to kiss me, or hold me inappropriately. The only downer was that the LeBlanc's contacted Go To on several occasions. Ken had carefully briefed everyone on the staff to say that they hadn't seen me since I had gotten married, but I'm not sure that the LeBlanc's believed that. Ken's attorney told me that I had to establish residency in the District for three months before I could file for divorce there and seek sole custody of the unborn child. The week before my two months in the company condo was up I asked Ken about his advice about an apartment that I had found. "Actually, Amy, I've been thinking. Why don't you move into my condo; I have three bedrooms and I'm just rattling around in it since I booted Gillian out." That was the first time that he had mentioned her name to me. "Would that complicate your divorce?" I asked. "No – it came through last week. Even though I didn't tell you, that's what we were celebrating at Atlantic City last Saturday." "You could really stand having a preggo around?" I chuckled. At that point I was in maternity clothes. "I'd love it. However, I feel that I must warn you – and this may cause you to decline my offer. I harbor sexual feelings toward you." Ken said that staring into my soul, his normal M. O. with me. I smiled, squirmed, smiled again, and then said "I'll take my chances. When do I move my few belongings in?" "I'll help you Saturday," he replied with a big grin. "What will the employees say?" I asked, crossing my legs to try to hide the squishiness in my crotch which I was sure was apparent. "Whatever they want," Ken shot back. "You do have to promise not to sue me for sexual harassment, however," he snickered. I simply laughed. Despite the fact that Ken and I were living under the same roof – and actually being quite domestic, making meals for each other, and watching movies together, working out together, computing to work many days, etc. – he never made a move on me. That is until I filed for divorce. The Saturday two days after my divorce filing things changed. Ken and I had a great day walking along the Potomac, to my surprise holding hands. Then we rode Segways around some monuments acting like tourists. That night we went to a play; Ken was affectionate. When we got home he immediately took off his sport jacket, tie, shoes, socks, and even his dress shirt, leaving him only in his T-shirt, pants, and boxers. "I ran you around a lot today," he said after I collapsed onto a padded chair and put my feet up on a hassock. "My feet bother me more now that I'm pregnant," I smiled. "How about a foot massage?" he snickered, patting the seats next to him on the couch that he had plopped down on. "I'd be in your debt forever," I giggled, pushing my lard ass off of the armchair and sitting down on the couch. Ken gave me a wonderful foot massage. I constantly oohed and aahed. After he had restored my feet to normal in a husky voice he murmured, "Other parts of you need to be massaged too." He stood up and slowly and deliberately removed his undershirt, pants, and boxers. His cock was rock hard and throbbing. I'm sure that my eyes got as big as baseballs. For years I had wanted to fuck Ken's brains out. Now, five months pregnant, I was finally going to get my chance. Ken knelt down next to the couch, whipped my legs around, got between them, pulled off my panties, and starting licking my pussy. They say that the mind is the most important sex organ; I can vouch for that. I had wanted Ken so badly and for so long that his tongue barely touched my clit before I had a powerful orgasm. After his tongue and fingers had been working on me for no more than two minutes I had rapid fire orgasms. I was almost comatose by the time that he scurried up onto the couch, pulled my top down and started gently pinching my nipples, put my calves on his shoulders, and gently inserted his beautiful thick cock into my restless pussy. My next orgasm would have registered an 8.5 on the Richter Scale if it had been an earthquake, and by the time that he was rocketing his joy juice into me I was rendered senseless. I woke up when Ken lifted me off of the couch and carried me to the Master Bedroom. He removed all of my clothes, and carried me into the large shower in the Master Bathroom. We played with each other as we washed the sweat and cum off each other, and giggled most of the time. When we went to bed Ken lightly turned me onto my hands and knees, stroked his reinvigorated cock up and down my slit until I was leaking pussy juice again, and then fucked my brains out while simultaneously massaging my tits. I screamed through two more orgasms before he deposited his second load into my pussy, again rendering me comatose. I had the most wonderful sleep of my life, snuggled up to Ken, our naked bodies staying in contact with each other the entire night. I woke up to his smiling face. "Are you back among the living?" he chuckled. 'I think that I'm in a dream. You know that I've loved you almost since the day that I met you," I sighed. When I saw his devilish grin I retorted "I take that back you cocky shit. I just like you and look on you as a friend." "Wow – if last night is how you treat friends I can't wait until you do actually fall in love with me," he smugly replied. "You bastard," I laughed, playfully pinching his nipple and then turning away from him. Ken snuggled up to me, turned my head until our eyes met, then in all seriousness said "Besides today, the best days of my life were when I caught Gillian cheating, and when you came back to D. C. I have secretly been in love with you for at least two years. I never would have cheated on or dumped Gillian except for her cheating, but now she has given me the chance for more happiness than I ever could have had with her." I cried into his shoulder. We spent Sunday naked, fucking, and sucking. I could barely walk Monday – every painful step caused my smile to get bigger and bigger, reflecting not just on the weekend, but my future. Ken didn't even try to keep our romance secret at the office. Monday at noon he had a catered lunch brought in, including wine and beer. Our main conference room was just big enough to fit the two principals, Ken and Alicia, and the fifteen employees, including me. It was a lively time, and just before cake was served Ken gave a little talk. "You know this has been so much fun, I think that we should do this once a month. What do you think Alicia?" "Sounds good to me," she chuckled as all the employees clapped. "Should we do it?" Ken asked as he looked around the room. "Hell yeah," was the unanimous response. "Great, a done deal, monthly except for October and November," he chirped; those were our two busiest months. "Now I didn't call all of you in here just for a good time. Rather than a rumor mill and gossip controlling, I thought I should give all of you the truth straight from the horse's mouth. Amy is living with me – we are a couple. My divorce was final before Amy moved in with me, and she filed for divorce last week, so as of this weekend we are not only living in the same condo, but we are sharing the same bed. If this makes any of you uncomfortable, see Alicia about it – confidentially – and we'll work something out." Everyone was paying rapt attention as Ken continued. I was slumped in my chair and I'm sure completely red. "It will be impossible for me to not treat Amy nicer than I treat the rest of you – I just can't do that. However, Amy being here will not have any adverse effect whatsoever on anyone's compensation, possibilities for promotion, or evaluation of performance. I hope that you all understand and can deal with this but if you can't I'll give you two months' severance and a great recommendation." All was quiet for a good thirty seconds. "It's so quiet we could turn this into a library, or pass a collection tray around," Ken quipped. Everyone laughed. "Let's get desert," Ken chimed, and we went back to being raucous until the luncheon ended ninety minutes after it had started. Shockingly, that afternoon was extremely productive. Bad Choice, Good Choice At the end of the day Alicia came to my desk. "Ken sure knows how to grab the bull by the horns, doesn't he," she laughed. "He never ceases to amaze me," I giggled. "I never would have thought that luncheon was a good idea – but it was a great idea. Do you know how much grief that saved you?" she asked. I thought a second. She was right. No talk behind my back because it was out in the open. "That's the main reason he did it, you know – he told me that beforehand," Alicia continued. "I love him," I said, starting to tear up. She patted my shoulder. "It's obvious that he's crazy about you. Now kiss him goodbye and get your preggo ass home and your feet up; he and I have to work on a quarterly report for the accountants tonight." I did just that. _________________ I'm not sure whether it was my pregnancy, Ken, or both, but after that first blissful weekend of sex with Ken my libido skyrocketed. It was significantly higher than at any other time in my life. I couldn't get enough of Ken's cock, tongue and fingers. I do believe that in the two weeks after our first sexual encounter that we fucked in every position that a five month pregnant woman could fuck in, accompanied by plenty of sucking. Ken was a so much better lover than anyone I had ever been with before that he wasn't even in the same league. He could be tender, rough, or anything in between and seemed to have some extrasensory perception to sense my mood and desires and fulfill them. There was only one drawback to my now perfect life. The LeBlanc family now knew where I was since that had to be disclosed in the divorce papers, and they were vigorously fighting the divorce. Jean apparently came back from his ship as soon as I took off. Once I filed for divorce the phone calls to Go To started coming, to such an extent that Ken got a protective order precluding anyone in the LeBlanc family from calling the office, and had the software for the phone system changed so that any call from a Louisiana area code was bounced back, but logged in. Jean was specifically fighting my request for sole custody. Some of the allegations he made were so outrageous that according to my attorney they really hurt him in the eyes of the Court. It seemed that all of the initial rulings were going against him. Aware of the possibility that the LeBlanc's could take the law into their own hands, Ken had the office, our car, and our condo wired with cameras, monitored 24/7 by a security firm unless we turned particular cameras off. After yet another preliminary victory in Court when I was seven and a half months pregnant, Ken and I were in the mood to celebrate. As we arrived home from a club (yes I could still dance, although I never had a drink of alcohol of any kind since the day that I found out that I was pregnant) just before midnight on a Friday night, at the elevator from the garage to our condo, two guys approached us – one with a gun and one with a knife. "Hello, Sha," came Jean's sarcastic voice. "You look good fat." He was the one holding the gun. The guy holding the knife was Andre. The police had dropped charges against him when they were unable to locate me to press them. "Let's go up to lover boy's condo, Sha, shall we," Jean's sarcastic voice continued. As we rode up in the elevator Jean kept the gun pointed at my belly and Andre acted like a complete ass as he did an imaginary swordfight with his knife, coming close to both Ken and I. Neither Ken nor I said much of anything up to the point that we entered the condo. I was scared shitless, but felt a little more secure now that the cameras were definitely on us. I just hoped that the security firm was doing its job. "Now, Sha, you're probably wondering why I'm here – maybe not," Jean chided, as he hit Ken a glancing blow with the gun on the side of his head. "You're coming back with us to Baton Rouge to deliver MY baby; then we'll decide what to do with you. In the meantime, we're going to dispose of lover boy here." It looked to me like Ken lost it. I swear that he started crying, got on his knees and started begging for his life, saying shit like "Look, just take her, she's yours – please don't kill me, I won't say anything to the cops." Jean and Andre started laughing at Ken's apparent cowardice and let their guard down. Apparently that was Ken's plan because faster than I could easily perceive it Ken had Jean's gun hand bent back toward him, the gun went off, and a bullet smashed into Jean's face, spewing blood everywhere. Andre took a step back horrified, which was his undoing. Ken was on him a split second later, grabbed his knife hand and arm, quickly stepped over it, and snapped it at the elbow. The sound was sickening. As Andre lay on the floor screaming in pain the blood and noise got to my preggo brain, and I apparently passed out. All I know is the next thing that I was aware of was me lying on the couch with a doctor peering over me, and our condo full of cops and CSIs. Jean and Andre were no longer there. When the doctor yelled to Ken that I was awake, he immediately broke away from the two cops he was talking to and came right over to me. "Everything's fine, honey," he said with a smile, stroking my face. I noticed blood on his shirt. When he saw me looking at it he said "It's Jean's not mine." "Where are Jean and Andre?" I weakly asked. "Jean is dead and Andre is on his way to the hospital handcuffed to a gurney and escorted by two policemen," he said with a frown. I thought it was a forced frown. That was clear when I broke into a big smile and he smiled broadly in response. "I guess that you're not too broken up about that, are you?" he asked. "Ken, those guys are evil. They would have killed you and kidnapped me, and probably killed me too after the baby was born. We still have to worry about Adele, though," I said, suddenly becoming morose. "Maybe not," Ken smiled. "The police found a document on Andre indicating that Adele was the mastermind of their little fiasco, and provided the financing. They are already in contact with Baton Rouge police." The smile returned to my face. Ken bent over and softly kissed me on the lips and I put my arms around his neck. ________________ Being almost eight months pregnant, I had a bad next couple of days after that traumatic experience. Ken took off work most of the time, and Sybil was with me when Ken wasn't so that I was never alone. Even though it was overkill, in order to make me feel 100% secure Ken hired a bodyguard to stand outside our condo and to drive me and Sybil around when Ken wasn't there. After about a week I felt much better. By the end of that Saturday I really felt good! Saturday Ken rented a limo and it drove us to a play and after desert and tea at a coffee house drove us to the Jefferson Memorial, one of my favorite places in D. C. As we sat on the steps looking out at the reflecting pool Ken got unusually quiet. "What are you thinking about, honey?" I asked, squeezing his bicep. He smiled, got down on one knee, pulled out the biggest rock on a band of platinum that I had ever seen in my life and said "I want you to be my wife before you deliver, and formally adopt your little girl the second that she's born so that she'll be ours forever. Amy, will you do me the honor of marrying me?" I almost couldn't answer him through my tears, but he got the idea that I was saying yes when I stuck my left hand ring finger out so far that it almost poked him in the eye. I don't know what having that ring on my finger did for me, but my already sky-high libido now rocketed out of the solar system. That night I "made" Ken fuck me doggy as hard as he was willing to consistent with my condition, and then sat on his cock facing away from him as he massaged my pregnancy-enhanced boobs while he fucked me again. We got married in a civil ceremony that same week, with Sybil as my attendant and Ken's brother as his. It's lucky that we acted quickly because I delivered two weeks early, a healthy little girl that we named Adele. No, just kidding, anything but Adele – actually Sarah, after my Mom. As I write this, I have just two weeks ago delivered Ken's and my little boy, we have a house in the suburbs with a picket fence and swimming pool, three year old Sarah has Ken wrapped around her little finger, and I have a real family! Life is good; REAL good!