As usual, don't read a Troubador story if you are looking for sex. This is different from my usual story, but I think you'll know the people I'm writing about, like some of them and dislike others.
"Dammit! Another big week planned with Susan, another 'emergency' call from the boss!" thought Darwin as he hefted his big portmanteau in one hand, his suitcase in the other. Out of hands he swung his hips against the door from the kitchen to the garage. It crashed open, rebounding off the stops and coming back hard, catching him on the shoulder. When he got back home he was fixing that damned catch. He just wasn't getting enough time at home with his family to do routine chores.
Shoving his bags in the trunk of the Ford Taurus Darwin slammed the trunk then yanked the driver's door open. It swung out hard, catching his new BMW and nicking the paint. Just his luck, if he had to ding a car he'd rather it was the company Ford he was driving than his beloved Beemer. Settling behind the wheel he stewed over his loss of control at the unfairness of the world.
Cursing softly over the damage to his Beemer he keyed open the garage door and pulled out onto his driveway. As he turned onto the street he looked hard at the front door, then up at the window to the master bedroom. Susan wasn't at the front door to see him off, but he thought he saw the curtains twitch in the bedroom window. He hoped his wife had simmered down enough to at least watch him leave on another god damned weeklong trouble shooting trip. If she had, she hadn't waved to him as he drove off.
The phone had rung just before nine this morning, just late enough not to interrupt their morning nookie. But not late enough to allow Susan to fully bask in the after sex glow she so enjoyed. "Me too!" he thought.
Darwin had promised her a big night on the town tonight, Saturday, and then they were leaving for their cabin on the lake tomorrow morning. It was already August and they hadn't been to the lake one time all summer. She was mad, he was disgusted, and the equipment at the Houston plant had taken a siesta. He hoped to hell he could get it running without another week there. The last time in Houston it had been a three week job. He couldn't seem to get it through the plant manager's head that routine maintenance wasn't money better spent for something that looked pretty.
"God damn it to hell, anyway!" he thought. "Houston in August! And the wife thinks this is some kind of pleasure trip! I should have taken her with me."
This was the third emergency jaunt already this summer. It was no wonder Susan was pissed. Hell! It pissed him off too.
In a way he was glad to miss the evening out. Susan had planned it with her best friend Darla and Darla's husband. He liked Darla well enough; she was funny and smart to go with her model's looks and shiny cap of blonde hair. Darla alongside his petite Susan with her curly hair made quite a picture. But her asshole, leech of a husband, Randy, was something else again.
The son of a bitch was always making passes at Susan. He did it when Darwin was there and it didn't seem to matter if Darla was there. Darwin casually mentioned to Randy the last time they were out that the next time he caught his hands on his wife's ass while they were dancing he'd break that hand. He was a big, sloppy ex-college football player, a linebacker, and laughed at Darwin.
Well, it would be a pleasure to demonstrate how it could be done.
A thought hit him hard. He had assumed Susan would cancel the evening out. He hadn't discussed it with Susan. He wouldn't want her out with that bastard, even with Darla there with them. Susan was angry enough to make it a night on the town without him.
Things hadn't been going well in the marriage of late. Susan was talking of kids, and he liked that idea. But he wanted to be there to coach his girl's softball team or his son's little league team. And he wanted to do more than hear about his kids daring-do on the soccer pitch. The hours he worked wouldn't allow it. Susan was getting really impatient; she wanted kids. The way the money was piling up, with investments and bonuses, it wouldn't be long before he could afford to thumb his nose at a nine to five job. Hell, he hadn't seen a forty hour week since the Truman administration, and his parents hadn't been born then.
"Well, dammit! That was just too bad!" he fumed as he drove. He had promised his wife these hours would be a thing of the past when he had his nest egg! She just had to be patient, that's all.
A thought snuck up and hit him. He hated when they did that! He hadn't checked his "author's account" at the bank. He had been writing smutty romance crap for an ebook publisher under the nym, "Dee Troubador." The royalties and what not he had going into an account in his name. He was planning to surprise Susan with it one of these days, but she knew noting about it to date. The balance was getting impressive. Not what a real author might get, but pretty good for an amateur part time writer.
The money hadn't been touched, just sat there earning minimum interest. Truth be told, he loved writing, even if it was hard work, but he was embarrassed at the genre. He wrote Romances. He liked the damn things, liked to read them and liked to write them, but in the back of his head he thought it was sissy for a guy to read them, much less write them. "Hell," he thought, "I even disguised my nym so women would think its author was a woman."
According to the clock he had plenty of time to make the plane. He'd go see how much was in the account. Swinging right at the next intersection he headed to his branch bank. Pulling through the drive-thru window he used his bankcard to access his "authors account."
"Holy SHIT!" came out of his mouth before he could stop it. The money had been coming through steadily and over the last year he had a respectable balance. But the damn thing had suddenly exploded, more than tripled in value. Thinking back he realized he hadn't looked at it since January, and his adventure-romance had come out in February. Then he'd put the finishing touches on a long-in-the-hopper pure romance. Keerist! He had over a third of a million sitting there. Their investments, savings and bank account came to more than that, but they had grown over time. This was unreal. He had enough capital to quit and live well off the interest if he was careful and frugal. And he didn't plan to stop writing.
Pulling back onto the road his mind was racing a mile a minute. "Son of a gun! I don't have to be in Houston until tomorrow afternoon. The only reason I'm leaving tonight is the boss's insistence." Darwin wouldn't be in the plant until late tomorrow, he'd just be rotting in the hotel. And nothing was going to be done until Monday even then. His bastard boss just wanted to show HIS boss how on top of things his department was.
"Fuck it!" he said, "I'm going to take Susan out tonight anyway. Pulling into a 7/11 store he called the airline on his cell phone and changed his first class ticket to tomorrow afternoon. "That'll give me time to sober up," he chuckled.
Driving slowly, anticipating the pleasure of breaking the news to Susan, it was an hour and a half after he had pulled out of the house before he was back home. The shadows were getting long as he pulled into his garage.
Tossing the door open, he remembered and made a panic grab at the door to keep it from slamming into his BMW. But son of a bitch, the Beemer wasn't there! Susan's Volvo was in its nook, but his Beemer was gone.
Susan was truly, deep down livid-mad as she peeked through the curtain watching Darwin drive off. She'd warned the son-of-a-bitch he had better not do this to her again! She wanted a real family life, with kids and all. Her asshole husband just wanted to climb the corporate ladder.
"Well, fuck the dumb bastard!" she thought as she stripped her clothes off to take a shower. She was going out tonight with or without the son-of-a-bitch.
Snatching up the phone she called Darla. "Hey, sweetie, everything on for tonight?" she asked.
"Absofuckinglutely," Darla answered. Reservations are made, I'm hot to trot and Randy's getting dressed as I speak."
"Hold that thought, sweetie," Susan answered. "My asshole husband took off for Houston of all ungodly places to go in August. But I'm heading to the shower and will be ready in record time. Hey! I'll meet you at your place and we can ride to the restaurant together. See you in thirty minutes, OK? Bring that hunky husband with you. See you there!"
Darla agreed, the two women 'made-nice' and hung up.
Moments later Susan was rinsing her short, blonde curly hair under the shower. It came down just to her ears, the curls giving her the "just out of bed" look. Darwin really liked it. Angry with her husband she watched the bubbles slip down her nice cleavage, over her taut tummy and catch in her bush. Leaning back she washed it off her front, then used a washcloth to soap her nicely firm breasts, paying extra attention to her nipples. It felt good, and she was proud of the way her big nipples poked out when aroused.
Making quick work of cleaning her privates and back she shut off the water and grabbed one of the big bath sheets. In moments she was studying her wardrobe to decide what to wear. She was ticked off enough at Darwin to want to look truly sexy tonight. Hell, she might even do something about it for once. He'd never find out about it, and she had it coming. Until the bastard gave her that kid, she wouldn't feel like a married lady anyway. So anything that happened was on his own head. She giggled at the unintended double entendre.
.... There is more of this story ...