For those of you who read my work you know what I'm going to say, for the virgins to my work; there are no graphic sex scenes in this story.
There are only so many things that can go on between two people or three people or more. After reading or writing once about those things you're just doing reruns, so why bother.
I enjoy writing about the characters, the evil or good that happens to them and how they react. Along the way if I'm lucky a good story grows, if not I've still enjoyed myself.
So I hope you enjoy this tale; all constructive comments and/or emails are appreciated and looked forward to. Your critiques help me to grow and learn.
Thanks for taking the time to read and/or comment on my work.
He was sitting on a stool at the end of the bar with his back against a wall watching a baseball game on one of the TVs above the bar. Not a little guy at around 6' or 6' 1" and about 190 pounds, he was still quite a bit smaller than my 6' 4", 255 pounds. Never the less I was going to be careful around him. I hoped he would listen to what I had to say without going crazy on me.
"Are you Jack Wilson?" I asked as I walked over to him. He nodded and I said, "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Who are you? I don't know you and I don't want another drink, I'm meeting my wife soon," he replied.
"My name is Steve but that's not important. You need to know what's been going on with Julie while you were on your sales trip," I said hoping to arouse his curiosity and not his anger.
"My sales trip, how did you know I'd been on a sales trip? And how do you know my wife's name?" There was a bit of anger in his voice.
"I ... I..." I faltered and stuttered for a few seconds. This wasn't a good situation and it could go bad very quickly. "Oh hell, there's no other way to say it Jack. I know your wife's name because I just most of tonight screwing her brains out at my place."
That's when the fight started; well it wasn't much of a fight, he hit me and I hit the floor. For a smaller guy he sure could punch hard. It happened so fast that I didn't realize he had hit me until I found myself on my ass on the barroom floor. He was standing over me yelling at me to get up so he could knock me down again. I sat right there and looked up at him trying to think of what to say. I owed him that shot at me but I wasn't going to be his punching bag.
Why would I tell a man that I'd been screwing his wife? It all has to do with payback.
My name is Steven Harrow and I'm a moron, well not really but I feel like one. You see only a moron or a husband, and I'm both, wouldn't have seen what was going on behind my back. I didn't see it or even suspect it until cliché of clichés I saw my wife somewhere she shouldn't have been. She told me that her sister had broken up with her fiancé and needed cheering up. Apparently my wife was the designated cheerer upper and went to console her distraught sister.
She called me at work and told me about visiting her sister and that it would probably be late before she got home. There was a casserole in the fridge and I could heat it up in the microwave for my dinner. I decided to hell with some stupid healthy tuna shit casserole, I decided to grab a beer and burger at a new place I had heard good things about. It was about 10 miles from my office in the opposite direction to my home. When I walked into O'Toole's it only took a few seconds to spot the two of them.
The man she was sitting next to in a booth at the back of the bar might have similar features as her sister but he had the wrong fixtures; if you know what I mean. In addition, I've never seen my wife kiss her sister the way she was kissing this guy. It was full blown let me check you tonsils type of kiss, complete with breast fondling and crotch grabbing.
I wasn't really that surprised; I guess I'd been expecting something like this for the last three months.
My future wife Stella (Estella) Rodgers and I met in high school dated a few times and then went off to different colleges. We weren't in love or anything and there were no sad goodbyes; we'd had fun together and then went on our way.
Stella was not the most attractive girl at school, in fact she was a little on the homely side. She wore glasses, was still carrying around some of her baby fat, and she had no grooming or fashion sense at all. What she did have was a satirical sense of humor, a quick mind, and man she could really dance. Stella transformed on the dance floor, leaving the rest of us in her wake.
She and I were a perfect match of two, if not ugly then less than attractive people. I was tall, skinny, and uncoordinated with a more than average acne problem. If you looked in the dictionary under the word geek, you would have seen my picture. But put the two of us together and we were good for each other.
It was almost six years later that I saw her again. I was taking some post graduate classes and took a break from my studies at an off campus bar. It wasn't a place I normally went to but that night I needed to decompress and relax. The place wasn't really very loud, just the normal ebb and flow of conversations going on but then a sort of hush fell over the room.
I was staring into the one beer I allowed myself and wondering how I was going to get through one of my classes without kicking the professor's ass. He was a liberal somewhere to the left of Karl Marx and I was just a bit right of John Wayne. It got very quiet in the bar and I looked up to see why. That's when I saw Stella.
At first I didn't recognize her, it wasn't until she smiled and then laughed that I knew it was Stella. Man, she had really changed and for the better. Stella had grown, evolved, or metamorphosised into a stunningly beautiful woman. Gone were the glasses, gone was the baby fat, and gone was the homely girl who didn't know how to dress or groom herself.
In that girl's place was this woman who was dressed to the nines, this woman with long, long legs and a body you could bounce quarters off of, this woman with long golden hair and perfect makeup, this woman that made everybody stop and stare. Stella was so beautiful that when she walked across the bar room even women would watch her and say, "I'd do her."
I couldn't believe the transformation in Stella. Man I blew it when I let her go I thought, and then laughed at myself. That had been back in high school and we wouldn't have stayed together all this time anyway. Of course I had changed also. I was still tall but I had filled out; the result of better nutrition and playing tight end in college. Playing football also improved my coordination and I outgrew the acne problem.
As I turned and started to leave the bar I heard this melodious voice that I remembered very well, call my name. I turned and there was Stella right in front of me.
"Hello boyfriend, what's it been about six years now?" As she greeted me she leaned against me, stood on her tip toes and kissed my cheek.
"Hi Stella, good to see you," I answered when I got my tongue unstuck from the roof of my mouth. I was the envy of every male in the joint If only for a moment.
"Come join us and have a drink. We've got a lot of catching up to do," she said pulling on my hand and leading me over to her group. "Hey guys, pull up another table so Steve can join us."
I watch as three or four people jumped to do as she asked. It was ironic, the girl I had known was so shy that I was about the only one she talked to and here she snapped out orders like a drill sergeant. Stella had definitely changed.
One of the guys from the group asked what we wanted to drink and went to fetch them. It must be nice to have servants, I thought. Stella and I played catch up for several minutes. After several how are yous, what's happened in the last six years and what are you doing nows; I had to address the 400 pound gorilla at the table. I know Stella was waiting for it and I couldn't resist.
"Damn Stella you look great. I almost didn't recognize you. You're a lot different than back in high school," I said paying homage to this lovely creature.
"Yep, I have changed and it's all because of you Steve," she said chuckling at the puzzled look on my face.
"Me? Me? What'da you mean it's because of me? I didn't do anything."
She giggled and then laughed out loud. I've never liked a grown woman of 23 or 24 giggling, she should have outgrown that phase but in Stella's case it was cute and sexy and made me want to hear more. I was staring at her waiting for her to tell me how I'd made her change.
Stella then explained why she blamed me or maybe it was better to say gave me credit for her development. She said that when we parted after high school, she was crushed. Her looks, her personality, her shyness made me turn my back on her; at least that's what she thought.
I started to deny the things she said but before I could say anything she held up her hand to stop me.
"You, we, had never talked about love or commitment but that didn't affect what I thought. We were going to different colleges and it was natural that we would part. I didn't want to think about the logic or facts of our break up, just that if I had been prettier, slimmer, and more polished you wouldn't have left me," she told me, again that little laugh that in a younger female would be a giggle.
"That's not the reas... ," I started to say, but Stella interrupted me.
.... There is more of this story ...