Just a short little story that was running around in my head. Thank you to my editors PapaKilo14 and Hal who clean up the mess I make. I'm an English teacher and they're better than me. Thanks to my beta readers Denny and Black Phoenix who keep me from making plot blunders and catch mistakes. I'm grateful.
When you've been married twenty-five years there's very little that surprises you about your spouse. In many ways, Joey was the perfect wife. She's absolutely gorgeous. Tall, almost six feet, flame red hair that's just gotten streaks of blonde in it the last few years. That's going to be her grey, I guess. She's got amazing legs, big breasts that while not as firm as they were when she was twenty are still something out of fever dreams. Her ass is still round and curvy if just a tad flatter than it once was.
She does yoga and workout classes four days a week and her face is just incredible. She has big blue eyes, a little turned up nose and full, pouty lips. Her high cheekbones make her look like she should be on a runway somewhere and I think she could have if that's what she wanted to do. She didn't want that. She wanted to be married to me and be the mother of our two boys. I have no idea why. I guess she loves me. That's the only explanation that makes sense. I love her desperately.
I'm Benedict Corey, by the way; pastor of a large church in a small town in the Midwest. I met Joey when I was in seminary after I graduated from college. I was invited to speak at a local church and her father was a deacon there. I was 23 and she was 21. She worked in an office with a bunch of engineers and architects. All the young people from the church invited me to go to a haunted house downtown. It was Halloween and we had a blast. She hung out with me and we went through that spook house together and she squealed and squeezed up against me when one of the ghastly surprises would pop out. It felt very good to have that lush body up against me and I was happy to be the recipient of that attention.
I asked her out two weeks later and we never looked back. We dated for two years and I asked her to marry me. After being engaged for a year we had a big wedding in a rose garden and a whirlwind honeymoon. I got a position at a small church in a big city and over the next ten years I turned it into a big church in a big city. We waited ten years to have kids.
We struggled financially in those early years but we made it work. I became pretty popular as a speaker and we spent a lot of time on the road. The fifth year we were married we were home 29 days the whole year. We spent a lot of time in hotels and life was good. We drove everywhere we went and took our time coming and going, making mini-vacations out of every journey.
When Mason was born things slowed down some. We still traveled, but not as much. I should tell you that we weren't the typical pastor and his wife. We had a public persona and we kept that up. By ourselves, we were a very liberal couple and our sex life was incredible. We made love constantly and couldn't get enough of each other. We never involved other people, never even thought about it. We didn't do kinky stuff and only tried anal once. She hated it and I was perfectly happy with her hot little pussy and amazing mouth.
We drank when we wanted to, always at home and smoked a little weed every now and again. Don't get me wrong, we believed what I preached and I wasn't one of those sleazy scumbags you see on TV begging for money. We were as sincere as we could be; we just had some different ideas about what the good book said than other people did. I saw no need to advertise that fact. To me, Christianity was about love, not lemons and that's the way we lived our lives.
I wasn't a virgin when we got married. I was no Hugh Heffner, but I had slept with half a dozen women. I was under the impression she was a virgin. She was certainly tight enough to make that claim but I don't remember her bleeding or any hymen. Of course, I wasn't paying all that much attention.
I'm now 51, she's 49 and our kids are nearly adults. They take after her father. I'm six-four and 210 pounds. I played basketball in high school and college. Our boys are huge, thick and strong. Both of them are over 250 and taller than me. Football coaches drool over them.
Life was perfect and it all came crashing down. Maybe it was my fault but I was having a hard time handling what I learned. We were at her parents' house for Thanksgiving. Her mom took us shopping and she wanted to go to this thrift store in the neighborhood where Joey grew up. The boys and I were having a blast looking at the games they had for sale. They love those party games and we were getting a kick out of looking at "Scene It, Sex in the City edition."
Joey was wandering around and her mom was looking at dolls. She has a thing about old dolls. The clientele at that thrift store was a little sketchy. I saw this tall black guy sidle up to Joey and I started that way in time to catch some of the conversation.
"Joey, is that you?" he asked.
She looked at him and I could tell she didn't recognize him. "Who are you?" she asked.
"Damn, girl, you don't remember?" he said. "Bobby Johnson, you remember me. You sure looking good Joey. Last time I saw you was at that party. You was laying there naked on that bed with my load running out of you, high as a kite and waiting for the next guy."
She went as white as a ghost and I moved around behind a rack of coats. I could see her between the hangers as she looked around to see where I was. She saw the boys and her mom but not me.
"Bobby, I'm here with my husband," she said. "I remember who you are. Just go away and leave me alone."
"I still got that old video tape," he told her. "You want me to send it to you?"
"No, I just want you to leave me alone," she said. "Don't ever speak to me again."
She walked over to the boys and he followed her. That was a mistake. Mason looked up when she took his arm and saw Bobby following her.
"Mom, is this guy bothering you?" he asked. Lane stepped up on the other side of her and there were these two NFL sized young men glaring at him. He decided he didn't want any of that and left the store. I walked to the window and he got into an old white van. I punched the license number into my phone and went back to my family. Joey was looking shaken but I didn't say anything. We browsed around for a while longer and she kept shooting glances in my direction. I acted as normally as I could and we went back to her parents' place after a bit.
We were staying until Sunday evening. I was going to speak at her Dad's church so we had a few days. I called Jim Davis. Jim is a policeman I went to college with and we had stayed in touch down through the years. I got his daughter out of a nasty situation involving drugs, pregnancy and an abusive boyfriend and he told me if I ever needed anything I only had to ask.
I did ask and he ran that license plate for me. He gave me the address and insisted that he was going to help me. I really didn't have a plan other than I was going to get a certain video tape. He knew how to do this sort of thing, I didn't. I've been in two fights in my life. My record was 0-2. I was willing, but lacked the science. I don't lack the science now. I've tried martial arts but most of them seem like aerobic dancing to me, totally useless in a real fight. Judo seemed a little more useful and I was pretty good at it. The boys both wrestled and I was their test dummy so I knew a good bit about Greco/Roman wrestling too. I worked out at a gym with boxers and I've done a lot of work on the bags. I felt pretty good about winning a fight now. Not that I ever intended to get in one. I thought I'd be happy to kick Bobby Johnson's ass though.
I told the family I was going to the bookstore. I really was. I met Jim there and he told me how we were going to do the deed. He had black ski masks and leather gloves for us to wear. He was fuming when he heard the story. I knew he loved Joey for taking his daughter under her wing and helping her and he couldn't believe the story. He told me that if a tape existed we would get it.
He drove his patrol car and we parked outside the apartment building Johnson lived it. The van was there so it looked like he was home. When we got to the door there was music playing inside and Jim told me to put on the ski mask. He put his on and kicked in the door. Johnson was sitting on an old, dilapidated couch smoking a cigarette and watching TV. He jumped up when the door crashed in and Jim hit him with his Taser. He went down and flopped around a little on the floor. I closed the door and we used plastic zip ties to immobilize Johnson.
We put him on the couch with his hands behind him and he woke up in a few minutes. Jim slapped him a few times to get his attention.
"Where's the tape with Joey Branigan on it," I asked him.
"Don't know nothing about no tape," he mumbled.
I buried my fist in his gut. He choked and wheezed around for a while and I asked him again.
"I've been nice so far," I snarled. "I'm losing my patience. Where's the tape?"
"I ain't got it," he gasped. "I give it to my neighbor. He wanted to see that fine white pussy getting pumped."
I broke both little fingers and he screamed.
"You've got lots more fingers," I told him. "I'll start on other things when we run out."
"It's in that drawer," he was sobbing now.
I opened the drawer and there was an old VCR tape in there. I didn't even have a VCR but I knew there was an old one at my church.
.... There is more of this story ...