Chapter 1: Recognition
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Cheating,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1: Recognition - Graham was blindsided by his wife, Reese, telling him she wanted a divorce to marry another man. After seventeen years, he was cast aside and needed help to get back on his feet.
"Some you win, some you lose, and some are rained out," I kidded my son Matt as we walked to my car in the parking lot. He'd just finished his Babe Ruth ball game, losing 7-3 after a crushing rally by the other team in the seventh inning. Matt had made an error in the outfield and had but a single hit to show for the game. Naturally, he was unhappy.
"Yeah, thanks, Dad," he said, not meaning it. "If I'd have caught that ball, it might have been different. Maybe we'd have won,"
"And maybe the score would have been 6-3 for them. It only let in one run of the four they scored. You can't blame yourself for all the problems. Cheer up, Matt. It's only a game and you know you aren't going to win them all."
I was giving him the same pep talk my father used to give me when we lost. It wasn't any more effective on me then than it was on my son now. We walked slowly to our car and a post-game pit stop at the Dairy Freeze. It was a hot, sunny afternoon in July, and I was as ready for an ice cream as anyone.
Our car was parked facing the road, a well-traveled artery on the outer edge of Yakima. I took the reflecting sun screen from the inside of the windshield and folded it, throwing it into the back seat along with my straw hat. Even with the screen, it was still well over a hundred degrees in the car and it was going to be a couple of minutes before the air conditioner kicked in with any effect.
I waited for an opening, then backed my aging Malibu into the exit lane and began moving toward the entrance to the road. I sat there looking for a break in the traffic before venturing out onto W. Tieton Dr. When I pulled out to turn right, eastbound, I caught a glimpse of a car speeding toward me in the curb lane. I stabbed the brakes to avoid a collision and the fancy silver car flashed by me, missing my front end by little more than a foot. In the front passenger window I saw the head of a woman. It was just a glimpse, but the shiny black hair registered. I didn't have time to digest what I saw, the car was long gone by then.
"Idiot," I muttered.
Checking once again, I ventured out onto the street, turning right again at the stoplight and headed toward our interim destination.
"Who do you play next?" I asked Matt.
"The Wildcats. They suck. We should beat them easy."
"Don't get overconfident," I warned. "Any team can have a good or a bad day, and upsets are common."
"Yeah ... that's what Coach says too."
The jumbo ice cream cone had his primary attention. I wondered about the wisdom of letting him have this size only an hour or so before dinner. On the other hand, he had an appetite that would frighten most people. Somehow, he burned off all those calories and remained trim and fit. His sister, who barely ate enough to keep a rabbit alive, could lose a few pounds, I thought. However, her mother kept saying they would come off as she matured. After all, she was only thirteen.
Matt was almost sixteen at the time. He tried out for his high school team as a freshman, but didn't make it. Babe Ruth was the automatic answer. He loved the game and loved to play, hating it whenever the coach replaced him, regardless of the reason. They'd lost today's game and Matt was down on himself for making an error. I tried to cheer him up, but he took his mistakes very seriously and vowed to make up for them. This particular day and in this particular game, it didn't happen.
Like me, he was tall, lean, and sandy-haired. Blue-eyed like everyone in the family. Our hair coloring was the opposite of his mother Clarissa and his sister Jessica. They featured heads of coal-black hair, making their blue eyes stand out even more. It was the feature that first attracted me to Clarissa, or "Reese," when I learned her nickname.
We had been married for over seventeen years. Seventeen good years. My name is Graham Rideout. I had a good job that afforded us a nice home in a safe, middle-class neighborhood. While I nursed my eight-year-old Chev, Clarissa was driving a nearly-new Ford Explorer. She was adamant that the bigger SUV was safer and made more sense for her as she made her rounds, shopping, driving the kids to and from school, and assorted other needs. The dealer's sales manager, Gordon Winters, assured me that this was an excellent buy. Since she put so few miles on the vehicle, I didn't argue about the fuel mileage compared to my car.
We had a two car detached garage that I had purchased as a kit. With the help of a couple of our neighbors, we assembled it without difficulty and it provided shelter for both vehicles from the elements, particularly the sun. The community spirit was something I really liked about where we lived. We had good neighbors, and it was a pleasure to help them out when I could. They, in turn, happily reciprocated.
As we trudged into the house, we were greeted by Reese's voice commanding that we shower and change clothes before anything else. It was no surprise and Matt headed for the main bathroom while I made toward our bedroom. There was plenty of hot water for both of us, so I didn't hesitate to turn on the ensuite shower. I noticed that it had been used recently as I set about removing almost two hours of sweat and dust. The ball park was a hard-scrabble affair with more dirt than grass. I was hankering for a cold beer and slipped on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops when I finished my shower.
"Hi, how was your afternoon?" I asked as I moved to the fridge.
"Pretty quiet," she answered nonchalantly. "I sat on the back porch until the sun came around and it got too hot."
"Over at Mindy's, as usual."
I popped the cap on my bottle of beer and stepped outside to see what the porch was like. We had invested in a large awning that was supposed to keep the sun off, but it was only partially effective. I agreed with Reese, it was too hot and would be for another two hours at this time of year. I could hear the hum of our air conditioner and, in all likelihood, it would remain on almost constantly in this heat. I tried to remember what it was like without that wonderful machine, but I guess I suppressed the memories of those long, hot nights of little sleep and less comfort.
"Anything doing tonight?" There was usually something going on in the neighborhood on a Saturday night.
"The Carstairs invited us to drop over after eight o'clock. Their porch faces east and doesn't get as hot as ours."
"Should we take something?"
"Some cold beer would probably be welcome," Reese said.
"I'll go down to the mini-mart and pick up a dozen," I volunteered, grabbing my wallet and keys.
"You might as well get a couple of snacks. They won't go to waste," she suggested.
"Sure. Be right back."
As I backed out of the garage, I noticed that the Explorer's tailpipe seemed to be down below its normal location. I stopped and got out of the car and moved to the back of the SUV. I touched the pipe and found I could easily move it. It looked like the bracket had broken and that needed to be checked out soon before the tailpipe broke as well. I walked back into the house and found my wife still in the kitchen.
"Reese, your exhaust pipe bracket is broken. You need to get that fixed soon before the whole tailpipe comes loose."
"Can't you fix it?" she asked.
"I could, but I don't want to. It's a job for the dealer. Besides, that should still be part of the warranty."
"Oh ... okay, I'll phone Kimble Motors on Monday morning and see if I can get an early appointment."
"Can we switch cars tomorrow?" Reese asked on Sunday evening. "You can drop the Ford off at Kimble and get a loaner for the day. They said it would only take an hour or so to fix the tailpipe."
"If it's only an hour, I can walk to work and pick it up at lunch hour. The exercise won't hurt me," I smiled.
That settled the matter, and the next morning I took the Explorer and drove to Kimble Ford. It was only five blocks from my office, and it was going to be another typical sunny summer day. I pulled into the service area and went in to do the paperwork. Ten minutes later, I surrendered the keys and walked out, having been assured it would be ready by noon.
As I walked by the showroom and the row of new cars sitting out front, I saw a car that looked somehow familiar. It was a Lincoln. One of the new, sharp-edged designs that I didn't particularly like. It was silver and I wondered where I might have seen it, but then thought no more about it. It certainly didn't look like something we would find in our neighborhood.
The Explorer was ready by noon as promised. It had been washed (which it didn't need) and vacuumed (which it did need). As expected, I was handed an invoice detailing the work with a zero balance, indicating it was warranty work. I thanked the service manager and headed for where Reese's SUV was parked. When I walked by the location where the Lincoln had been parked, I noticed it was gone. I also noticed lettering on the curb where it was parked. Sales Manager. I guess Gordon Winters was doing well to rate a Lincoln.
It wasn't until I got back to my office that I wondered how Reese got an appointment that quickly at Kimble on Monday morning. Reese must have called right after I let her know about the tailpipe. I couldn't complain. That was great service, considering it was warranty work. I forgot about it as I immersed myself in catching up on the accumulation of stuff that always appeared on Mondays.
I was home at my usual time, just after five. Reese was in the kitchen and gave me a "Hi" without turning away from whatever she was doing at the stove. I gave her a similar reply and headed for the bedroom to change into shorts and a t-shirt. I returned to the kitchen.
"Your Explorer is fixed. No charge," I announced.
"Yeah, thanks," she said, still concentrating on her food preparation.
"I might need you to run an errand for me this weekend," she announced.
"Oh, what kind of errand?"
"I found an antique rocking chair I really like and I bought it. It's in Ellensburg. I wonder if you wouldn't mind driving up and getting it for me. You can take the Explorer. There should be enough room for it."
"Are they open on a Saturday?" I asked.
"Yes ... it's probably their busiest day along with Sunday."
"I don't remember you telling me you bought a rocker?" I said, curious now.
"I'm sure I did. You probably weren't listening ... as usual," she said, shaking her head in that typical female sign of annoyance.
I sighed. It was pointless to argue. "Okay, just get me the address and I'll drive up Saturday morning. Matt has a baseball game in the afternoon. Is the chair paid for?"
"Yes, I paid for it on-line when I bought it."
"Did you buy it sight-unseen?"
"Yes, but the site had very good pictures and it's guaranteed to be as represented."
"Is there a reason you're not coming with me?" I asked, now more curious.
"I've got things to do here. Here's the address," she said, handing me a slip of paper.
"This isn't Ellensburg. It's Kittitas. Are you sure this is right?"
"Of course I'm sure," she snapped, then blushed and turned away. That little display of temper was something new, something that had recently been noticeable.
"Okay, don't get all bent out of shape, I'll handle it," I said, turning away and heading for the family room. I had just signed on for a two hour trip, there and back, counting dealing with the antique store. I intended to inspect her purchase very carefully. I was wondering how she found this antique, but I guessed she found it the usual way, she Googled it.