West Memphis, Arkansas is a sleepy, old river town, sitting on the banks of the mighty Mississippi River. That and the interstate that runs through it make it a manufacturing center, as is Memphis, Tennessee, across the river. Both cities are north of hurricane alley, but get their share of large, broiling thunderstorms, and an occasional blizzard that charges across the heartland of America. Life is pretty much middleclass, except for the few men who own or operate the factories that have located there so as to ship to all areas of the States.
Martha Charlap is a life long resident of West Memphis. A daring, somewhat rebellious girl, she worried her parents. So, in desperation she was enrolled in an all-girl Catholic high school, run by Nuns. She managed to smoke, drink beer, and get into other mischief, in spite of the best efforts of the good Nuns, who were trying to save her soul, after all.
After graduating from high school, she attended university. It was there that she got to know boys, and her effect on them. She became a party girl, a player, who measured which guy could take her to the best parties, or the best shows. If a guy had a fancy car, and was fun to party with, she was game to be with him.
Her breasts? They were bargaining chips. If the reward was right, she would parade down Main Street with her puppies out for all to see, she thought to herself. It was a mystery to her why a guy would spend a lot of money just to park with her, running his hand under her sweater and bra, fondling her breasts. She did enjoy being kissed.
Was she beautiful? No. But God made all twenty-year-old girls attractive to men. Some would later become fat. Others, with age, would lose their good looks. The smart ones would develop a nice personality that would make the subject of looks moot. Martha was smart. She could charm a rattlesnake.
Two summers before Martha entered university, the door opened at Hammer Construction's on-site trailer. In walked John Pezzimenti, a tall, broad shouldered boy with an infectious grin. "Howdy, y'all need any workers?"
Old, tough, lean, Jack Hammer looked up. Taking his cigar out of his mouth he said. "God damn right I do. Have you ever worked on a job site, and what can you do?"
"I can do rough carpentry, finish carpentry, sheetrock, brick work, and painting."
"You're shitting me, boy. Where did you learn to do all that?"
"My daddy owned a construction firm on the Louisiana coast. Last summer's hurricane got our building, equipment, and my daddy too. So, I decided to get inland."
"Well, we will give you a try. I'm short a sheetrock man, so go up to the third floor and find Dan Hard. Tell him I sent you."
As time went along, Jack found out that John was all he said he was. But there was more, he was a leader who got the other men to do more by telling them ways to do what they were doing smarter.
Jack said to John. "Boy, I want to make you a job site boss. Are you interested in taking classes to learn what you need to know to do that?"
"Damn straight, I am, Mr. Hammer."
John started taking night classes. Spread over three years, he took: blue print reading, structural engineering, and construction cost estimation, land survey, primary electrical service, management and training. He had to attend day classes only when a class took an exam. Two events of note occurred when at school during the day. First, during lunch at the cafeteria he sat next to and conversed with a Roman Yawnick, who was a bright, good looking, rich kid, that had an eye for every girl that walked by. Four different girls came over to say hi to him. The thought came to John that he should hook up with Roman, so he could meet some of the girls. He was sure that Roman must go to some great parties. Before he could broach the subject, Roman got up to go talk to another girl.
A few weeks later, Martha saw John walking into the cafeteria. There was something about him. He was all man, so self-assured. So, just as he was walking by, she elbowed her books off the table. Hearing them drop, John turned and helped her retrieve them off the floor. "Thank you. I'm Martha Charlap."
"John Pezzimenti here."
For a moment it was awkward, then Martha asked, "Would you like to eat with me?"
Soon they were going out one night a week, which was all the time John was free. John was surprised one Friday night, as he was pulling out of a parking lot, to see Martha and Roman drive by in his convertible. He followed them. They ended up at the Kappa Sigma house. Duncan Brown, who had worked for Jack last summer was a member of that house, John remembered. He pulled out his black book. "Hey, Duncan, John here. Got a minute?
"Sure John, what can I do for you?"
"Are you attending the party at your house tonight?"
"Sure am. Why?"
Straight out, John stated his problem. "Duncan, I have been dating a Martha Charlap. She is in your house right now with a Roman Yawnick. Can you check them out once in a while and tell me just how cozy they get?"
Duncan knew that you didn't bullshit John, so he said. "John, Roman is a Kappa Sig. If he dates a girl, he will try to get into her pants anyway he can. The girls know it, and still date him because he spends a lot of money on them as well as taking them to the best shows."
"Figured as much, but I would still like a blow-by-blow account. You have my cell phone number?"
"Sure do, John."
The next day at just before ten am John got a call from Duncan. "John, you aren't going to like what I'm going to tell you."
"Tell me anyway."
"She got well oiled. Roman was all over her tits. Nothing-new there. She lets any guy that she dates feel her puppies. But Roman took her upstairs. She left this morning after breakfast."
"Thanks Duncan. I just as soon that you don't share with anyone that I was interested, okay?"
"Sure thing, John. See you later."
John thought long and hard as to what he should do. He went out and purchased a twelve pack of condoms. The next Saturday night, after a nice dinner at the Outback, he drove her to his apartment. She did not say a single word as he opened her car door, or took her hand and led her up the stairs. He was direct. First on the couch, his hands were busy on her tits as his mouth worked her lips and then her breasts, which she displayed as soon as he asked her to. She was easy, he knew. When he was ready, he led her into his bedroom. He wanted to be comfortable. She said. "John, I have to pee."
When she came out, she was naked. John thought about that. Interesting lack of modesty for a college girl who was naked before a date for the first time.
What was going on is that yesterday Roman had not dated her. Instead, she had seen him with another girl. It angered her that a guy had dropped her for another. At the same time, John was her only sure date at the moment, so if he wanted to screw, she would gladly screw.
She is a tight bitch, John thought, as he slid his cock into her. John was by far the biggest man to have ever laid his body on her. Nothing unusual about his cock, but his size and body tone was something else. He was rock hard, the body of a construction man. It was six am, the time that John normally went to work, that he got up and fixed them breakfast. After, he took her back to bed. It was noon when they got up, showered, and he took her back to her dorm. He had three condoms left. If the girls at her dorm had seen her, they would have laughed at the suck marks on her tits. Some would still be there the next Friday when Roman undressed her. It pissed him off that someone else had been with her, as John had planned.
This went on for over a year. John had time for only one date a week. Martha had dates whenever she was asked. Since she was a known fuck, that was often.
When Martha had less than a semester before graduation, she realized that she had better hook up with a guy for real. She broached the subject to both Roman and John. Roman brushed her off gently saying that he was going to graduate school, which was a lie.
John, however, being a guy with a one-year, three year and a five-year plan for his life had already considered marrying her. Old man Hammer had gotten throat cancer from those Goddamn cigars, and had offered to sell Hammer Construction, Inc to John for a very fair price to be paid over five years. The kind of a deal usually made between father and son. John knew that he would not have time to find a new girlfriend. Besides, Martha was a lot of woman, who was quick, happy, funny, sexual, easy to get to know girl, that would be an asset to be married to. The fact that she would go to bed anytime that he led her that way was a big factor also. Very big.
He proposed. She accepted. It was not a big wedding, but very nice. John liked her dad and mom. Her father was surprised and happy that she had snared a guy like John, who now owned a construction firm, at age twenty-seven.
Jack Hammer had bid jobs locally. John decided to bid jobs anywhere within five hundred miles. In his classes he had met several guys who were qualified to be job site managers. He hired three of them. Soon, he concentrated on bidding schools, hospitals, and municipal building jobs. Those that worked for him soon learned that he expected two things beyond everything else. A job will finish on time, and it will come in at budget, or Hammer Construction will eat the difference.
If you worked for Hammer, you were paid top money, and you knew that John would protect your ass, period. You were family. His employees sang about him; "Every morning at the site, you would see him arrive. He stood six foot six and weight two forty-five. Sort of broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip, and everybody knew that you didn't give any lip, to John. Big Bad John."
Martha thought of him as a pussycat, who would do anything for her. That was the way it had been between his dad and mom. That was how you treated your wife, John had reasoned.
Hammer made a lot of money. John hired a pilot and purchased an old Beech King Air. John was away a lot, flying from job site to job site. The question he would ask a manager was, "Is there anything I can get for you to make your job easier?" His men loved him.
Both John and Martha joined the "Nelson National Country club." John became the handicap manager. He had a big following. The green guys liked his jokes. The bar kids liked the way he treated them as men. The waitress thought that he was kind, since he tipped so well.
Martha became a good golfer, who played in the women's league. She drank too much, but was still well liked, because she was a funny drunk. More than one man noticed her tits, which she showed off with her low cut golf blouses. They were bigger now that she had gained ten pounds since college. Come on to her? Not likely. Mess with John Pezzimenti's wife and maybe have to face him? No one at the club was up to that. They had seen him in the showers.
It was five years down the road when John stopped into the Exxon station where he bought all his gas. One of the attendants had worked for him. "Mr. P, I saw something that I think that you should know about."
"What's that Eddy?" John said with a smile.
"I have seen your wife go into the Holiday Express with a guy twice. I play ball in the field across the street."
"Does she drive her own car?"
"Yes. It is her white Mercedes with plate MP. The guy drives a red Ford F150 with plate LEB 796."
"Thanks Eddy. Let me know if you see anything else." He gave Eddy a twenty.
Back at his office, John sat and thought. He knew who owned the red Ford. It was an eighteen-year-old kid that he had hired to clean out the pool on Fridays, so that it would be clean for their weekend parties. But why had she taken him to a motel? Then he remembers that he had worked at home on two Fridays. So what had happened was that after the kid had cleaned the pool, the boy had left, with Martha leaving at the same time, telling John that she was going to the club. Instead, she had gone to get a hot youthful fuck.
The kid was no threat. If he jumped them both, the kid would shit his britches, but Martha would be highly pissed, and would probably get smarter and fuck some other guy behind his back just to spit him.
Since John had a security firm on retainer, he had them stop by his home. A camera and mike were installed in every room. The phone was bugged. A key action recorder was installed on her computer.
Saturday when she was at the club, he reviewed the tapes. Nothing on the computer or phone. Long fuck secession with a lot of talking and moaning on the bedroom tapes. Martha was in charge. The boy was nothing but a fuck toy. John was not turned on, nor did he get a hard on. He sat in deep thought. That night when she came home, he gave her a kiss, which she returned while holding his head, as she always did. Later in bed, he asked her, "Hey, Marth, how about sucking me some?"
Readily, she took him in her mouth. With her eyes looking up at his she worked his cock as she always had. When he was ready, he took her in the ass, where he seldom had been. He realized that he was using her as his cum bucket that night, but that relived some of his anger.
The next day, he was his old self. That was not necessarily a good thing for Martha, but at least he wasn't shooting anybody. He was busy, and had a lot invested in Martha. Her fling with boy toy ended when the boy got tired of being with an older woman.
It was almost two years later when the Bartender, a kid by the name of Josh Atherton, whispered to him. "Mr. P, could I see you in the kitchen?"
Once there, Josh whispered. "Mr. P, one of the new members is having an affair with you wife. I'm sure of it."
"What have you seen, and who?"
"Usually, I'm the last car out of here, except on Saturday nights when there is a poker game upstairs. Lately, when you are out of town, there will be two cars still in the parking lot, hers and his. So I wondered where are they doing the nasty deed. I snuck upstairs. There is, as you know, a cot in the poker room. They were on it just a going to town, both naked as jaybirds. The guy, a new member, is Roman Yawnick."
"Keep this only between us, Josh. Call me at this number if you see anything else." He gave Josh a hundred dollar bill.
"You don't have to do that, Mr. P."
"You've earned it, Josh."
Nothing changed at the Pezzimenti residence for over a year, except that John fucked Martha more than ever, often just before she left to go to the club. John wondered how Roman liked her loose and sloppy. One thing was certain to John. As long as Roman could fuck Martha, he would. The bastard was married and had three kids. John started planning for the future. Nothing was left to chance. John Pezzimenti was big leagues, a reevaluation the Roman and Martha would rue, if they didn't stop and soon. After it had been going on for over a year, John knew that Martha liked the intrigue of cheating. She would fuck Roman on Friday night, and fuck John Saturday morning. Gutsy, but playing with dynamite. John had admired her guts.
John was now a wealthy man worth seven million dollars. His job site managers were the best in the business. Hammer was well know to such companies as ITT, IBM, GE, as well as every school district in eighteen states. On time and on budget had made Hammer the company to go to for quality construction. And if anything went wrong, Hammer sent a team of professionals to fix it at no cost to the customer. The King Air pilot was a busy boy, who was allowed to take his wife along when the plane was going to a good vacation spot.
Like everything else, John had planned on what he would do, if his wife went too far, as she had done. For months he had prepared. Sadly, he now started to activate changes in several people's lives.
"Martha, I'm going to Miami tomorrow. I would like you to go along."
"Oh, I would love to go."
The next morning John dropped a knock out pill in her coffee. He dressed her and took her in a taxi to the piers, where a freighter bound for Brazil was at pier. He took her on board. He had reserved a cabin. Telling the officer, a Greek guy who spoke little English, that she was very tired, and was asleep, he was allowed to take her to their cabin. He left on the table her passport, with the necessary visas to enter Brazil, a plane ticket to return to Memphis, twenty thousand dollars in travelers' checks, and a copy of divorce papers that he had secured in Nevada.
His attorney had advised that if he established residency in Nevada, which he did, and declared that his wife had left him, that after six months of monthly postings in the Nevada papers, that the courts would grant him a divorce. Of course, he was told, "If you enter either Arkansas or Nevada, and she serves you, she can invalidate the divorce and get half of your wealth."