My name is Rick Wells. I'm forty-one years old. I'm married to a woman of the same age and have been for the past eighteen years—that is married to her; she hasn't always been forty-one. They have been mostly happy and fulfilling of my years. We've had some mundane and pretty much meaningless disagreements of course over that period of time who among us would not have. At least, I hasten to add, I have long been of the opinion that they were mundane and meaningless disagreements. My opinion has now changed, and my marriage and my formerly settled life are now under siege and in danger of suffering total ruin. And, you might guess, and you would be right, that the problem stems from sexual differences as is often the case with forty-somethings.
Anyway, I suppose I should tell you a little bit about our backgrounds.
I graduated from state college with B.A. in Psychology nineteen years ago. Now, you might think that a degree in Psyche would have led to me making $100 an hour listening to people's personal problems. Well, you'd be half right; I do listen to people's problems. And, I hear it all depression, cheating spouses, problems with the kids or the boss or the governor. I mean I hear it all; I'm a bartender. I do not make a $100 an hour; I make maybe fifty grand a year base. But! and it's a big but, I'm content.
My wife's a nurse. She graduated from a local community college with her A.S. degree and passed the NCLEX soon after, and that with flying colors. That was ten years ago. My wife, by the way, is a very smart cookie. Oh, and with all of the overtime she works, she makes more than I do. She keeps telling me I should do the doctoral program and go into practice. By "practice" she means clinical Psychology. I have resisted that however. I love my job. I meet a better class of people than the ones who can and do pay $100 an hour to be told what they can get from me for the price of a highball—actually, come to think of it, a lot of my people are the same as those other people!
Cali, that's my wife, gets out of sorts with me when I tell her I'm not interested in making more money, and in spite of what I said before, it has led to some pretty raucous arguments between us. In fact, it is at least part of the cause of the sword of Damocles that is currently hanging over our marriage.
Cali is pretty, not runway beautiful, but pretty. Maybe five-six and around 120. Auburn hair, freckles, and the greenest eyes this side of an orchard. Her tits run out at about 34Bs. Her butt is a little more spread out than some, but that's how I like 'em; a broad butt is so female. For me she's perfect.
Oh yeah, me. Well, I'm five-seven and a half, 162, with sandy hair and blue eyes—why would anyone care right. I'm okay looking, but I would be far less likely to ever be runway material than my wife. I do have a seven-inch johnson though that seems to be more than enough for Cali, and for that I am more than grateful to whatever fertility goddess took care of me in that department.
I bought the house we currently live in with money my dad left me just before I met Cali, so it's free and clear; that was in my senior year at state. Now, except for the payment on the new car I bought Cali for her 41st birthday, that was three weeks ago, we owe nobody nuthin'. I know money is a matter of status to her, but I ain't having any of that; chasin' the green ain't livin'.
While I have been under pressure from her to change careers, I have to admit that I have put a lot of pressure on her to cut back on her long hours at the clinic. We don't need the damn money; we need more time together. Now is the time in our lives, you'd think, that Cali and I would be doing things together. But oh no, we've got to make more money!
Our sex life hasn't been that great for some time. Something has to give. She's always too tired on my off days, and since I work till 11:00PM five days a week—I do have weekends off—I get home too late for her to be interested. We maybe get it on twice a month, if I'm lucky. Frankly, it has been getting to me.
We met when I was admitted to her clinic with injuries sustained in an auto accident. I was twenty-two at the time and just about to head off to basic training. I'd done the ROTC thing in college, and I was about to be given my second lieutenant's bars. The fucking accident would delay me for several weeks.
At any rate, Cali was my triage nurse and it was clear to me, when we met, that she wanted to talk. I, not being the shy type, asked her if she would be interested in having a cup of coffee with me when they released me. She didn't say anything, but she nodded in the affirmative. Three days later, with a cast on my leg, they released me. She met me in the lobby and wheeled me down to the cafeteria.
Cali learned, during our little coffee break, that first time in the clinic's cafeteria, that after basic I would likely be posted overseas, and for some reason she seemed panicky. I did my best to allay her unexplained concerns. We made a date for the following Saturday. Since my leg was in the stupid cast, there was no question of us going dancing. So we went dining and drinking.
During the few weeks that it took for my leg to mend, I fell hopelessly in love with her. I was gratified to learn that she had felt the same way about me from virtually the first moment we had met in the examination room at the clinic. This was a major boost to the ego of a man whose prospects had never been better than average with the girls.
I was in good shape physically, except for my damnable broken leg; and I still am, in good shape that is. I'd been a golden gloves boxer and had made regional semis before being killed by a guy whose hands were so fast that I don't think scientists had yet developed tools capable of clocking them, at any rate so it seemed to me. My habit of training, then and now, were clandestine; I trained and continue to train just for me—I did not do any fighting in the Army. My habits did and do, however, keep me in top condition. And for some reason, or maybe no reason, I have never let Cali know very much about my prize fighting days. At any rate, as to my physical condition, I can still run three miles in 25 minutes no problem and skip rope at 120per for twenty minutes non-stop. These, along with a couple of hundred reps with the iron each day, are enough.
Our first real date was the Saturday after that first cup of coffee. I picked her up and we went to Faricelli's, a small Italian bistro just outside of town. Faricelli's had the distinction of serving an imported wine, Falernus, which, so local wisdom avers, has an ancient Roman pedigree. At any rate it was great. We danced a little and left. Here was the moment of truth.
"Wanna take a drive," I asked. She smiled, knowing exactly what I had in mind, if she didn't, my leer would have been a dead giveaway.
"Okay," she said. "Do you have a condom?" She had taken the initiative away from me with that one.
"No," I said, a sheepish look on my face.
"Well anyway, don't break any traffic laws getting us there," she said.
If my face hadn't been red before, it sure as hell was now. "I won't," I said.
We made it to the park four miles distant in about fifteen minutes. She had slid over next to me, and was running her hands up and down my body as we drove. She avoided touching me in the place where at that moment I most needed to be touched. But, I had hopes that things would improve once we parked. They did.
We'd gotten in the back seat and I had pulled her gently to me. She was so pretty and so hot and so soft; she was the whole package; I was one lucky fella.
My hands lightly caressed her breasts. Her hand, also lightly traced the outline of my cock through my dockers.
"Let's get undressed," she said.
"Just what I was thinking," I said. We were naked in less than two minutes.
We continued our caressing of each other. It was a truly intimate time for us. I swore that if the gods ever gave me an opportunity to relive a moment of my life, this would be the moment I would choose; it was that wonderful.
She turned and presented me with her behind. "Take me doggy style, okay. I want you to control me; it's best for me that way," she said. I didn't argue.
I took hold of her arms, probably holding her too tightly, but she didn't complain. I pressed myself inside of her and then pulled out a little. Then I pushed in a little farther and repeated the process. Soon I was screwing her steadily, and she was making little mooing sounds that told me she was okay.
I stiffened. I could see she was nearing completion as well. I began ramming her hard. Her noises were staccato now. She stiffened, shook, and grunted. "Fuck! Fuck! Oh fuck, I'm cumming," She screamed. I blew my load inside of her.
Shrinking, I slid off to the side and looked at her, her head resting for a moment on the back of the seat, her butt still high in the air, cum running down from her slit and down her leg. "Thank you," she said. "I needed that."
"Fucking-A," I said. "Me too."
We cuddled for a little while, pulled on our clothes, and drove home. The kissing goodnight was tender and promised much.
After that first magnificent night in the backseat of my car, we dated four and five nights a week, and before I left for basic two months later; I proposed and she accepted. The ring I bought her wasn't much; I'd spent everything I had on the house I'd bought. But, it was a quarter carat diamond, and I thought it had character. Oh, and as to the house, even though we hadn't married as yet, I had Cali move in as soon as I left for basic; well, we were engaged.
She wrote me almost daily while I was in boot. You might say she kept me focused on her. And focused I was. I finished boot, got my bars, and headed back home for a 30 day leave about as fast as I could.
Arriving home, I broke the bad news to Cali: I was being posted to Afghanistan. I was slated for a fourteen month hitch. Needless to say Cali was not thrilled, but she was thrilled when I said we should get hitched right away. There wasn't time for a big wedding, but her parents, Marge and Philip Caplan, saw to it that it was a church wedding and that the reception was nice if relatively small—some forty people attended both events. My mom was there, but of course my dad had died some time before. These along with the usual aunts, uncles, cousins, and a few good friends were enough. We were married, and we were happy.
I carried her across the threshold at the house and we screwed for two days straight. On the following weekend we had a mini-honeymoon in Popotla, Mexico. The water was nice at the beach, and the few days we were there were memorable.
We did have a little business meeting one night while we were still in Mexico. We decided that kids were not going to be in the mix for us. Not for a long time at any rate. We wanted to be secure first. The irony in that was that she turned out to be barren. But, I was content. If kids weren't meant to be then they weren't. We were and that was all that mattered to me.
Two days after returning, I was in a C5 on my way to the war zone. Oh, and I'd made first lieutenant the day I was posted; I liked my new silver bars.
Let it be enough to say that my first war time posting was dull. I was a computer whiz, even though my college degree was in Psychology, and that made me a headquarters hanger-arounder. Sixteen months later I was home—yes not fourteen, well, whaddya gonna do, it's the freakin' Army.
"Oh my gawd, Rick! You're home," she squealed, throwing herself into my arms. I'd arrived unannounced, and though shocked, she was very glad to see me.
"Yeah, baby, I'm back," I said. It was a good beginning.
I mustered out two weeks later, and got me a job at the Head Trip Bar&Grill. I was a finally a bartender. No, I was a psychologist that worked in bar. Gawd! how I love my job.
All of which brings us to the present day.
Sex between us was evolutionary, as it is with almost all couples: at first insanely hot, then hot, then warm, and finally hohum. I missed the getting it on heat of our earlier days and so did Cali. In order to bring some of that early feeling back we would sometimes role play. We tried different things.
Sometimes we'd do it in different locations in the house, or in the woods when on vacations. Sometimes we'd tried the B&D scene with her in control, that was fun for quite a while actually. Sometimes we would talk about threesomes or gang bangs. Sometimes we'd talk about her cuckolding me while I watched. And, there were other things if I could but now remember them. But all of these things were mere fantasies between ourselves, and they stayed that way for years. Then he arrived, the asshole: Howard Colson, Dr. Howard Colson; he was a plastic surgeon.
"So, what will it be tonight, husband," said Cali. I leered at her.
"What about you dominate me and get it on with some dude you picked up somewhere," I said.
"Oh, I like that one," she said. We haven't played it in a long time. Okay, you're going to be the dude, and my wimpy hubby over there will get to watch." She pointed to the empty chair near the wall pretending that I "her husband" was sitting in it; while for my part I had become James, her lover.
"Sounds good to me," I said.
"His name is James, honey" she said, talking to the empty chair; she was already getting into the scene...
"Why do you have that rope around his neck like that; he can't even lean forward?" said James (me). "And his hands are tied behind the back of the chair too. Are punishing him for something?"
"Because, lover, he can be awfully jealous, and he knows that now that we've started he will not be allowed to interfere no matter what," said Cali. "He's going to be my little cuckold fellow tonight and that's that. He knows it's his fate." She smiled sweetly at the chair. "Isn't that right, honey," she said still looking at it. "See, James, he's trying to nod yes."
"Now, undress me slowly, James. Give hubby a show," she said. I undressed her playing the part of James the loverboy.
Naked, she got down on her knees. "Let me help you with your pants lover. I just love to pull down the pants of my lovers," she said, looking over at the chair and smirking.
I was naked from the waist down, and now she played with my stone hard dick. She looked over at the chair and blew her imaginary husband a kiss just before she took me in her mouth. I came hard and long very quickly.
We moved to the bed. We got ourselves tangled up kissing and feeling each others' flesh heat up as we played. Soon I flipped her on her back and drove myself into her. I was way too hot to delay fucking her. Geezsus was I hot, and so was she. I came with a shudder as she pile drove her mound into mine trying to cum at the same time; she didn't make it, but I wasn't done. I slipped out of her and down her body looking to suck my own cum from her baby smooth, hairless pussy. Now, she was slamming her mound into my face cumming in series, so it seemed and jerking wildly in the doing.
She looked over at the chair. "You have just been cuckolded big time, Rickie. Are you enjoying watching another man do me, baby? I really do hope so. I hope you're all right, baby. I hope you're not too jealous." She was really getting into the scene, but hell so was I!
She grabbed me around my shoulders and spun me over on my back; I was shocked by her strength!. She switched positions and lowered her pussy over my face as she stretched out and took my cock once more into her mouth. It took a few minutes, but she had me stone hard once more.
"Take me from behind, lover. I want to see my husband's eyes while you do me," she said. Gawd! this was hot I thought.
Grabbing her hips I pulled her to me and pushed in all the way. She let loose of a long ooohhmyooohhmy, just as I bottomed out inside of her. I began screwing her slowly at first, then picking up speed, then slamming her hard. I was still a ways from cumming as she was overcome by a wave of small orgasms. Then, just as I was about to blow the seams out of my cock with myn own orgasm, she stiffened, shuddered, and howled in the most intense cum I think she ever had. I sagged onto her back, her face still buried in the pillow and her butt still poised lewdly high I the air. She looked toward the chair.
"That, baby, is how you have to learn to do it, okay?" she said.
We lay sated and looked at each other, both of us smiling broadly. Gawd! How I loved this woman, I thought. She is all I will ever need.
Afterwards, we rolled apart sti8ll breathing heavily. We'd been at it for an hour.
"That was good," I said, meaning it.
"Damn right it was," she said. "Someday we have to actually think about trying out some of these fantasies in real life." Seeing you in that chair, jealous and helpless—gawd! that was hot."
"The whole scene was hot as far as I'm concerned," I said.
"No argument from me," she said.
She rolled over and looked at me seriously. "Whaddya think, husband mine, could we do this for real sometime? It would be even hotter for real, dontcha think?"
"Not gonna happen, dear heart, I ain't risking losing you to some other guy," I said.
"Like there is some chance of that ever happening," she said, laughing.
"I still ain't riskin' it," I said.
We kissed and talked a little in the afterglow. Then, she laid it on me.
"Ja—sorry—I mean Rick, can I ask you a favor?" she said. Her request caught me by surprise. Well, not her request so much as her tone of voice. But, at the moment I was vulnerable and feeling generous. I was just hoping she wasn't going to ask me to go shopping with her; it's the one thing that I just couldn't get myself to do for her, and she resented it to some small extent.
"Rick, an old friend of mine, a male friend, is in town, from high school days actually. His name is Howard Colson. He is going to be working at the clinic soon. He asked if we could get together to catch up on old times. Whaddya think?" she said.
"Sure no problem," I said, glad she didn't want me to go shopping with her again. "I'll make sure I get the night off and we can show him around. When is it going to be?"
"Uh, Rick, I mean just him and me. It's just to catch up on old times. You know. You wouldn't know anything about those days. You'd be kinda out of the loop," she said.
My look must've cued her. "Rick, it's not a date, but, well, I was afraid you might think that way; so I am asking. You know up front, as it were," she said. She seemed nervous.
"I don't think so, Cali. It doesn't seem right. I mean a man's wife going out with an old high school flame. He is an old flame isn't he?" I asked.
"Well, yes. But that was ages ago. There is nothing there like that now," she asserted all too vehemently.
We hashed it over for over an hour before things came to a head. I was tired, but tired enough to give ground on a request like hers.
"Again, how long has it been that you haven't seen him?" I asked.
"Since high school," she said.
"And you want to go out to dinner with him but without me?"
"It's only dinner, Rick. We aren't going to do anything," she said.
"Does he even know you're married?" I said, with an edge to my voice.
"Of course, silly. And, I told him all about you and what a wonderful husband you are. Rick, it's just dinner with an old friend. Just talk."
"I don't like it, Cali. It doesn't make sense, like I said, a man's wife going out with an old boyfriend. I don't like it," I said. "You do not have my willing approval or any other kind."
She looked at me wistfully. "Rick, I'm going, please. It's tomorrow night. I promise, I won't be too late, but I am going. I need to. I wish you would help me out here, my husband, but I am going. Please try and understand," she said. She reached for me, but I pushed her hand away and sat up on the edge of the bed. The wonderful sex of the night now turned to ashes, at least for me. She seemed a little bit shaken by my attitude, but she was also determined.
"I don't understand, and if you go, It's going to be a serious hurt to our marriage. I'm serious, Cali. Don't do it. Don't do this," I said.
We eventually called an end to the discussion and I tried to drift off, but couldn't. I got up and headed downstairs. I was naked, but I didn't even realize it. Downstairs, I plopped onto the couch and thought. This whole night. This whole night of sex was to get me to a place where I would say yes to what she really wanted—another man. Was I nuts? Maybe, but I had never been so frightened.
We spoke little the following morning. She'd come down and found me still awake, still naked, with bags under my eyes and tried to comfort me, but I pushed her away and went upstairs. She called after me.
"Rick, it's not a big deal. You have to understand," she said. I didn't even turn around to acknowledge her words. I went into the room and headed for the shower.
She went to work and I settled in to brooding about her and this old boyfriend. It was Saturday, she'd had to work, but I was off. Her "date" was for tonight. The fun filled night we had had the night before now seemed like a set up to me. I was not happy, and my stomach was churning.
That evening I was standing in the front room when she came down the stairs. She was way too beautiful for mere conversation, and I said so "Just conversation, huh?" I looked at her with steel in my eyes.
She smiled a sympathetic smile, "please," she said, "I love you." She tried to kiss me on the cheek, but I held her off. She frowned and looked angry, but she just turned and walked out. She got into her car and drove off. I made the call.
Cali and I had argued, discussed, and generally gone back and forth over this Howard Colson guy, and now she'd finally decided to shine me, us, on and go out with him no matter what I thought, wanted, or needed. Well, I wasn't sitting still for it. I had made arrangements late the night before, arrangements she didn't know about. I would not be her little wimp husband. I would not. Fantasies were one thing, real life was a whole different kettle of fish!
One thing about being a bartender, I knew a lot of people, including people who could help me out in situations like this.
"Jim, heads up, she's on her way," I said to the man on the other end of the line... "Good, please don't lose her," I begged, "I want to have it all pics, sound whatever you can get."
Jim was a private-eye and well thought of by the cops I knew who had recommended him. He wasn't a regular at the club, but he and his wife Marci did drop by now and again. Marci worked at the clinic with Cali, in the office part of it. Fact is Jim Blaine used to be cop, robbery division when last so employed. He knew the game. I knew he'd stay on her tail and find out all he could. My only option now was to wait.
I decided to head out to the Head Trip. I wasn't on duty tonight, it being Saturday, but I needed a drink. Jim would let me know when she got home. I didn't want to be home when she got there. Let her worry a bit, that is if she even cared enough to worry. Okay, again, maybe I was being childish, but I was in the right, damn it! She'd want to know where I'd been, but she could just wonder; I wouldn't be telling her nuthin' until I was ready.
I got a call from Jim at 2:00AM. I asked him to drop by the Head Trip.
"She's on her way home, I followed her till I knew that where she was going," said Jim.
'Yeah, she told me she wasn't going to be too late, so much for her promises," I said. I had to smile, at that; it was a major mistake and she was going to have to a lot of explaining; I wondered what she would say to justify it: a flat tire maybe, right. "Did yuh get anything?"
"Yes, and no," said Jim. "I got a lot, pics, sound; she didn't fuck or suck him, but they made out in the back seat of his car for damn near two hours. And, he did have her top off and his hand up her skirt and all over her tits."
"The audio?" I said.
"Yeah, you came up a couple of times. She told him you were a good husband. He asked some stuff about you, but she cut him off after her asked a couple of personal questions," said Jim.
"Like what?" I said.
"What you looked like. And..." Jim stopped.
"And what?' I said.
"How long your dick was," said Jim.
"What the fuck!" I said.
He's smooth. He asked about that like a joke, so to speak. He also asked if you were treating her right. It was then that she told him that you were off limits. I think she was feeling guilty talking about you. There is no doubt he'd like to get into her pants, but he wasn't pushing it too much tonight. I'd guess you'd want to take measures to see he never does though," said Jim.
"Yeah, what kind of measures?" I said. "Divorce," the emotional bitterness was seeping through my defenses.
"Rick, I guess that's between to you and her. No, I was thinking—well, I was thinkin' you could let me investigate him. He's clearly a predator. I've seen his kind before.
"You know he's a doctor, right?" said Jim.
"Yeah, she told me. I think she's in love with his money. She always was a material girl," I said.
"You goin' home now?" said Jim.
"No, I'm gonna hang out here. I won't go back until morning. I got a cot in the back, I'll just sack out here after Herman closes up," I said.
"Okay," said Jim. "Do you want me to check up on the guy then?"
"Yeah, go for it, Jim. Who knows maybe there's some dirt there," I said.
"Always is, pal, always is."
I woke to the sound of glass breaking. I got up from the cot I'd spent the night on in the storage room, and stretched. I looked out into the empty bar, and I saw Hilda cleaning up some broken glass on the floor. I shook my head. Hilda broke a glass at least once a week. It was almost a tradition anymore.
I stunk, I'd have to go home and shower before I did anything else. That that would mean I would have to face my wife, not an enticing thought to me. Helluva thing, a man being loath to be around his wife. Afraid to let her see his distress. Well, there was nothing for it. At least she hadn't fucked and sucked him, but she would; I was sure of it. It was just a matter of time. And, when it came to that, did it even matter anyway. She'd already fucked me over, and I was about to make a decision.
I'd turned my cell of the night before; I turned it back on now. I had three text messages and four calls from her. Well, to heck with her. I hope she sweat at least a little.
It was on the way home that I decided on what it would be that I would do, at least for the moment. I would simply ignore her and her asshole doctor until I got the hard copy from Jim. I was going to prepare for whatever was going to happen. I was already thinking of divorce. I hadn't quite gotten to the place where I'd finally decided yet, but she'd disrespected me, and next to actually fucking or sucking the guy that was as bad as it got.
I pulled into the driveway and parked. Entering through the front, I heard her puttering in the kitchen. I headed for the stairs, I only wanted to shower, get some clothes and head out again; I still wasn't ready to deal with her. I'd decided to get a room near work and stay the hell away from her away from her. Her antics had soured my stomach and I just couldn't get over what she had done to me; I figured it would only get worse, and I was already a near basket case emotionally.
"Rick! Where have you been," she said, emerging from the kitchen. I just kept heading up the stairs. I didn't want to talk to her, not yet.
"Rick," she shouted. I just kept heading up the stairs.
She followed me and tried to come into the bathroom with me, but I locked her out.
"Rick, we need to talk. Nothing happened. I promise nothing happened," she lied through the door.
I got in the shower and let the steaming water wash over me. It helped reduce the tension that had been holding me in thrall since the night before.
After showering, shaving, and doing my usual bathroom routine, I came out. She was sitting on the bed waiting.
"Rick, you're being childish. Howard and I didn't do anything. You have to believe me," she said.
For the first time since arriving home I had something to say to her. "I do not believe you, Cali. And you disrespected me. I'm having a real hard time dealing with what you and that asshole did to me. He must think I'm a first class wimp. Well if so, he'd be wrong. I've decided to get a room for a few days while I made some decisions. Oh, and tell me, did the length of my cock impress him, or is he a lot bigger than me."
"Huh?" she paled. How—what—what—are you talking about? Decisions? What decisions?" she said, changing the subject.
"What do you care? You made yours without caring what I thought or wanted or needed. I'm gonna do the same. I'll call or come by in a few days. You take care you hear."
"Rick, you're acting crazy. It was just dinner. We didn't do anything bad." I couldn't help it; I had to hit her with something. What's your definition of bad, Cali. Would letting him strip your top and feel you up under your skirt not qualify? Wouldn't any of that qualify as being bad? Tell me, I'd really like to know." She sat stalk still and in shock.
"Shut the fuck up, Cali. And get the hell outta here while I get myself together. The sight of you makes me sick!" She started to sob, but she got up and left me alone. I hated hitting back at her like that, but what the hell; she'd done worse to me.
I continued to dress; and then, I packed my old military duffel bag and headed downstairs. She was waiting downstairs for me.
"Rick, I can explain. Please, if all of our years together, our children, mean anything let me have this one chance to explain," she begged.
"No," I said. And I left.
I took a room at the Round Tree about a half mile from work. It had the advantage of my being able to walk to work unless it was promising rain, so I did all the following week.
Away from the house I concentrated on my workouts; it helped me control if not totally eliminate, the emotional pressure I was under.
Cali didn't wait for me to call me; she called me every day at work, and I took her calls, but refused to talk to her about anything substantial. So far she had not apologized or promised to stop seeing the asshole. She just kept saying it was all a mistake and that she could explain. Yeah right, I thought.
On Friday I got a call from Jim. I told him to come by "my" office.
"Howdy, pard," he said.
I smiled and waved him to a chair. "Whatcha got?" I asked.
"Well, I don't know if you know it or not, but he's a plastic surgeon. But, he evidently is not a real good one. He's here because where he came from they're looking for him real serious like," said Jim.
"I don't understand," I said.
"He screwed up several women's face lifts, and charged them a bundle to do it. There's litigation brewing for him if they can get him to return, but the odds are that he isn't about to. He'll still lose his old house and whatever goes with it, but that's nothing compared to what they can get him for if he returns and loses the court case," said Jim.
I nodded. "I doubt if Cali will want to hang with him when she finds out," I said confidently.
"I wouldn't think so," said Jim. But, Rick, I have more. She's been having lunch with him every day this week. She looks concerned, but he is doing his best to comfort her. He definitely wants in her pants. He's telling her how sorry he is that you got the wrong idea. He's actually laying the ground work to put it all on you, the blame that is."
"How the hell do you get all of this recorded?" I said, really wondering if not exactly caring.
"They always eat at the same place, and I have directional stuff that picks it all up. A techie friend of mine is the genius behind the miracle of sound," he said, laughing.
That first Saturday since her date, I went home.
I was in the kitchen sipping a glass of merlot when Cali came in. She wasn't alone, and it wasn't her doctor. I stared and she froze. The guy she was with could not be faulted for stupidity; he saw the look on my face and cut country muy pronto.
"Rick," she finally managed as soon as the young man had gone.
"Yeah, Rick," I said, mimicking her. "New boy toy?"
"Rick, he was just coming by to help me with something," she said, lamely.
"Oh, I'm sure," I said. "I should ask where's doctor Howard."
"I've stopped seeing him. Rick, I'm sorry. What we did, and it wasn't all that much, really, was wrong. I don't know how you found out about us making out, but—you were right. I've been talking to Howard, and I told him I couldn't see him socially anymore. I told him we hadn't been fair to you, my husband." I nodded. She at least was telling the truth now; that was a change.
"Rick, Dan really was here to help me with something. Will you help me instead, since you obviously scared him off," she said.
"What this so-called something," I said, laying bare my cynicism.
She led me to the bathroom; it was totally flooded. I went outside and cut off the water. Twenty minutes later I had the problem isolated, and half an hour later than that the plumbing was fixed.
"Nothing like having a man around the house," she said smiling. "Rick, will you come home. I promise to be good to you."
Maybe it was fixing the pipe. Maybe it was her tone of voice. But, for some reason I felt it was time to try and get by her disrespecting me and get on with our lives. There was still a trace of bitterness in the pit of my stomach, but I nodded without smiling.
She came to me, embraced me, and kissed me—on the cheek. I thought that that was significant: why not the lips? I just didn't know what to think of her or us anymore. My stomach, my heart, my head were all in turmoil. Time would tell.
For the next several months things were pretty much normal around the house. Each day we got up, went to work, came home, and maybe twice a week we got it on sexually; well, that was better than it used to be. We did still talk about some of our fantasies, but we talked about them as fantasies, not things that were likely to ever happen. We did it, the talking, to try and spice things up a little. We had, again, in the past done some light role playing; but now we were at times even considering each other's darker thoughts and day dreams. Even with all of that, and most of it was stimulating for the both of us, I was fearful that sooner or later something had to give. And it finally did.
One day she really got to me.
"What's the matter big boy? Still jealous of Howard?" she said. I had been having episodes of depression since the blowup, and every once in a while it really had me down. She wasn't stupid. She knew the incident was still on my mind, sometimes even when we screwed. "I thought by now we could have put that little incident behind us."
I looked at her with bitterness in my eyes. "Little incident?" I said, gnashing my teeth.
"Oh my, you still are jealous, aren't you. Rick, let it go. I shouldn't have gone out with him. I'm sorry I upset you so. Really. Can't you just accept my apology? I promise, that from now on, baby, anything I do you'll be right there with me, no more leaving you out. I know now how big a mistake that was, and I am truly sorry. Forgive me, okay? Please?"
I still hadn't said anything. Something she'd just said left me feeling uneasy. What did she mean by, " ... anything I do..."? I decided I was probably reading more into it than was meant, but I felt uneasy all the same. Truth told, I hadn't felt relaxed even one day since coming back.
"I guess," I finally said without enthusiasm. I could see she was feeling concerned at my tone. I decided she really had not realized how big a thing it was for me for her to go out with someone else, an old boyfriend, and cut me totally out of the equation. But there was something else too, something she wasn't telling me.
I had a premonition that something new and not good was in the air; I just couldn't guess what. As I soon discovered, I didn't have long to wait long.
Saturday came around, as it has a habit of doing, and I was off. Cali was in a jovial mood. I was getting ready to cut the grass and putter around in the yard.
"Honey, we've not gone anywhere in a while; let's go out tonight," she said.
"What did you have in mind," I said, not really feeling like going anywhere.
"I don't know, dinner and dancing maybe," she suggested.
I looked at her as though she had an agenda. She picked up on it.
"Honey bear, it'll be just you and me. Or, we could invite the Blaines," she said, with confidence. "We need to do something to get out of the house once in a while. If you don't like my suggestion, I'll listen to whatever you'd rather do." That got me. At least she was giving me a choice. Ha! I shoulda known better.
When Cali came down stairs, after having taken twice as long as usual to get ready, I was stunned. She on the other hand was just flat out stunning. She wore a low cut black sheath, no bra, and if I was any judge, no panties either. Her makeup was flawless, and her ruby lips so inviting that I couldn't resist. I grabbed her and kissed her so hard I was afraid I'd hurt her.
"You look amazing," I said, in a voice choked with emotion. Maybe after tonight, I thought, I could finally relax.
"Thanks," she said, "I kinda gathered you thought I looked all right." She was smiling broadly at my exhibition of passion. "You look pretty good yourself, mister." I knew I looked okay, but not as good as her, not even.
As we entered the Cloister, an upscale night club catering to the professional set, I saw several faces I knew from the Head Trip. I shook hands with them as we passed to our table following the maître d'.
The food was good and our conversation light as we ate and watched couples begin to filter out onto the dance floor. The band had been playing mostly romantic slow songs until the dinner hour began to wane. Soon there were some fast songs interlaced with the romance. I asked Cali to dance. The eyes of a dozen men appraised my date, as we passed their tables; I was feeling very proud.
We got through two fast songs and two slow songs before Cali started getting a lot of attention from the unattached males in attendance. For the next two hours she was pretty much monopolized by would be suitors; I managed only one more dance with her during that time, and it was a fast one, so we couldn't really talk. I was not real happy.