Elise and I met at a college frat party during our senior year at State. She a Business major, me a Techie, we hit it off, and while the courtship wasn't exactly whirlwind, we did become a pretty hot item pretty quick. Two months after graduation we made it legal, and for the past sixteen years we've been as happy as could be: her, apparently, because she was getting what she wanted and needed, and me in my ignorance that she was getting what she wanted and needed; go figure.
Elise is pretty. Five-eight, 120, tawny locks, bright green eyes, and possessed of the best personality to ever come along the pike if I'm any judge. Me, I'm Harvey Barrios. To keep things parallel here: I'm five seven, a tight 160, brown hair—thinning but mostly still with me, kinda quiet, with a talent for techno stuff.
Elise is a sales agent for Standard Auto Parts, a chain of stores moving the kinds of things the young and the restless males in the population need to customize their cars and turn them into girl getters.
I'm a civilian contractor; I work for our city's police department. I help keep 'em online and connected to the world.
The two of us, Elise and I, do okay with our two incomes; we need 'em both to get on, but we don't worry too much about where our next meals are going to come from. We've no children; Elise as it turned out was barren. But, that has never been a problem for me, though I think it was for her in the early going. Nevertheless, we've adjusted, and things have been good, as I mentioned before. That is until now, this minute, since I caught her—them—some minutes ago.
I watched as donned his pants and loafers and gathered up the rest of his clothes before leisurely heading for the door. He sure was big. He clearly wasn't concerned at all about getting caught in the act. I'd heard her say his name just as I walked in on them—Harry.
Elise stared at me from across the room. She'd finally covered her nakedness with a towel. The towel was only slightly better than nothing as I watched cum trailing down her leg all the way to her knee. The silence was, as they say, deafening.
"Harv? I hope you're okay?" she said, finally. I met her gaze.
"Are you serious? Well, I'm not okay." I said. She seemed a little—exasperated, maybe with herself.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said. "I thought you'd be gone two more days on your business trip. You weren't supposed to see us. But, I guess that's the breaks."
"The breaks! Is that all you've got to say! Yeah, well I guess that's right huh. How long?" I said.
"What's the difference?"
"Just tell me Elise, how long have you been fucking around on me?" I said. I don't know if I expected the truth or not, but I figured I had to ask the question. The answer I got stopped me cold. I had no doubt, at least, that it was the truth.
"Harvey, I love you and only you. "But, to answer your question, for the last fourteen years. Not with him of course, but others. He was just a two night stand, pretty useless actually, an unreconstructed loser sexually; it'd take a lot of work to get him where he needs to be as a decent lover, but he is good looking and he does have a sizable penis," she said.
I could feel my face flush. I was near fainting: my blood pressure. I need—I need—water," I mumbled. Elise turned and headed for the kitchen. She didn't hurry; I thought that telling. Moments later, she returned with a glass of water and held it while I sipped.
"I've hurt you, but I suppose it was inevitable in the long run," she said.
"Harvey, we can get by this. Okay? My extracurricular sex never compromised my love for you, and none of it was ever with anyone we knew; I wouldn't do that to you.
"Harvey, I just needed more than—more than—well..."
"More than I could give you," I said, filling in the blanks for her. She looked away. She said nothing. "Well, I guess that says it all pretty good. Sixteen years and now it's over. All my love, all my commitment down the shitter." I was starting to tear up. And who the fuck wouldn't!
"No!" She said. Her vehemence startled me. "I'm committed to you too. All of my love is only for you. My blood pressure was beginning to subside some; I could actually feel it. "The sex, I mean with those others, was just to fill a need that I could not deny. Harvey, there is still an us if you want it.
"Actually, if you will give me a chance to explain, to convince you that what I have done is actually not a bad thing; well, we can be even better than before. I promise.
"I know I've hurt you, and maybe dented your ego pretty good; Hell, I know I have. But it is not by a long shot the end of us."
"Elise, you just said that I can't satisfy you. If that's true, and it had the ring of truth, how do you figure we can get by this? You want me to go without sex for the rest of my life, Elise? Is that what you expect? I mean if I can't satisfy you; then, why would you want to have sex with me at all," I said.
"Oh my goodness, Harvey Barrios, I have never denied you sex, and you know it. You can have me any time you want me. Any time! No restrictions," she said.
"No restrictions. You'd grant me mercy anytime I needed to get off. Is that it, Elise? Thanks ever so much." She realized her mistake, and her look showed it. She tried to regroup.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. It wouldn't be mercy sex, Harvey. Not at all. And you do satisfy me, just not in the same way those other men do. You fill a need in me that none of them can or ever could.
"Look, I'm trying to get this all confessed and out in the open, Harvey, and I'm screwing up my words," she said. "Bottom line is I will be taking care of you! I will do my duty."
"Your duty? I'm a duty to you! Okay, Elise, explain, convince me. Go for it," I said. "Tell me why I should be your willing cuckold."
I was sick to my stomach, but I wanted to get this done and over with. For my part, oddly, I still couldn't just up and tell her to get lost. In the end, I knew, that that was very likely what was going to happen, but I would listen to her. I loved her, that counted for a lot, and in the end outweighed even fourteen years of betrayal. Yes it did! She had, as she'd said, hurt me; but I was hoping against hope that she could convince me that we were still okay. That there was some way that I good get by that fourteen years of being stabbed in the back; I preayed that there might be a way.
"Harvey, as you no doubt noted, I have been screwing up my words something fierce tonight. It's late; we're both on edge and in a bad state. Would you allow me till morning to get my thoughts together?" she said. I nodded. I wanted to hear it all. And, since it was almost 11:00PM, I figured we could wait a few more hours.
"Thank you, Come on. Let's go to bed. I want to give you your first sloppy seconds," she said. The wan smile on her face was indecipherable. I stared at her like she was crazy.
"What," I said, exploding.
"Calm down, Harvey. Yes, sloppy seconds. You're gonna love 'em, and you're going to be getting them a lot. That I can promise you that." Now she laughed.
I thought she was kidding; I hoped she was kidding; hell, I don't know what I was hoping or thinking. It was all surreal. "Actually, Harvey, it's kind of part of how I am going to convince you in the morning to be what you said: a willing cuckold. You just have to trust me. Okay? As my cuckold, my knowing cuckold, you will be getting a lot of attention from me, more than ever before."
I was not quite in a trance but almost. She'd turned and was sashaying up the stairs, the towel covering her ass was not doing a very good job of covering. My cock, all almost four inches of it, was harder than a rock. I followed.
She was still wearing the towel when I turned the corner into our bedroom. Take your clothes off, Harvey. I did as she said. I stood naked in front of the woman, my wife, who had just a little time before been cuckolding me with another man. How had she phrased it, oh yes, with a "two-night stand." She pointed to me without saying anything and traced a path in the air to the bed.
I got on the bed and lay down on my back. She dropped the towel. God she was pretty, I thought. I needed her so bad. But I also felt sick and maybe even a little bitter too, and shaky. I knew I was about to get a mercy fuck, and it killed my ego. But, it did not kill the stiffness of my cock.
Positioning herself, she forced my legs apart with her knees and knelt between them. Taking my cock in her hand she stroked it a few times and smiled down at me. "You have a cute little dick, Harvey. I've always kinda liked it."
She lowered herself to me. She took my stiffness into her mouth and sucked on it. She sucked slowly torturing me with her mouth. I came in a gusher; she swallowed almost all of it.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she gave me that same wan smile once again. "Now for the second round, mister man," she said.
She began jacking me off and after a few strokes, she tickled my balls noting with satisfaction that she was getting the near dead to rise again. She plopped down beside me on her back.
"Fuck me, Harvey, and don't be gentle about it," she said. "Get your sloppy seconds, and certainly not the last of them. I'm telling you that up front, dear husband." Her words angered me, but not enough to prevent me from plunging into her for all I was worth.
I drilled her for a good five minutes before I came yet again. She didn't cum and, though I didn't realize it at that moment, it pretty much signaled the end of us: as a lover, I was no good to her. She was willing to do me because it was her duty, but the reality was I was next to useless to her in any real sense.
I rolled over beside her on the bed. My thoughts were a jumble of humiliation, satisfaction, and flat out lust for the woman beside me.
"Thoughts?" she said.
"None for the moment," I lied.
"Did you like it?" she said. "I mean the sloppy seconds."
"I tried not to think about it," I said. "No," I corrected. She frowned, but she wasn't done. She rolled on top of me and gave me the most sensual kiss I'd gotten from her in years.
"Tomorrow, I will make things right by you. I will be making damn sure that you are one happy cuckold, Harvey. I mean it, Harv. I really mean it," she said.
Sleep did come, and if the truth were to be known, it was for the most part untroubled.
In the morning, it was Sunday, I noticed that her side of the bed was empty. I got up, peed, and showered. After dressing I headed into the kitchen where I knew she'd be. She was, and she was boiling the water for the cream of wheat. I headed for the coffee maker and poured myself a cup of the elixir of life. God how I needed that first cup.
"How are you feeling?" she said, turning to me.
"Not sure," I looked at my watch. "I should know better in maybe half an hour. Kinda depends on what you tell me." She raised her eyebrows.
"Yes, I suppose that's true. Should we eat first?" she said.
"Yeah, I guess," I said.
Breakfast over. Dishes cleaned up. Second cups of coffee poured. We stared at each other.
"Okay," I said, breaking the silence, "Talk to me." I had been able to recover some vestige of my formerly not inconsiderable ego during the night; and I was hoping a show of confidence on my part might get things going my way, at least a little bit.
She nodded, looking down at the table. She was clearly gathering herself for her sales pitch.
"When we married, you and I had never had sex, not the whole thing at any rate. We'd fooled around some in the drive-in. We kissed our lips sore in the front seat of your car. But we'd never done the dirty. At the time, I thought that that was because you were trying to show your respect for me, and I loved you for it.
"Then there was the wedding and the wedding night and I knew," she said. She paused.
"And you knew?" I said.
"And I knew why you hadn't tried to fuck me."
"Huh?" I said.
"Your dick, it was so small. I knew then that you were ashamed of the size of your cock. You were afraid to let me see, well, see it," she said. I stood up. I was angry, very angry.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"That was not it at all! You got that! Not it at all!" I was white with rage. "I did respect you. I didn't want you to think that I was like those other men that had taken advantage of you. You know like Kevin Rensler did," I said. I saw her face flush.
"You knew about Kevin?" she said.
"Yes, I did. I knew that he'd raped you, and that he'd gotten away with it. I knew, or thought that I knew, how traumatized by it you must have been. I was taking it easy. Time enough when we were married, I told myself. That, dear wife, is why I didn't fuck you before we tied the knot, not because of my nothing little cock. And, I'll say it again, dear wife, not because of my goddamned nothing little penis! Got that!"
"Oh my God!" she said. "I didn't know—I mean I didn't know that you knew. Oh my God!" She was clearly stopped dead in the water by my words.
"Look, Elise, I don't want to belabor this. It's clear to me that you don't think I'm—well—man enough for you. I mean clearly my cute little cock just hasn't got what it takes to make you happy. I think it would be best if we just divorced, hopefully amicably. I'll go my way, and you can go yours."
"No! I'm not done. Not man enough! Who the fuck ever said anything even remotely like that!" I was startled by her sudden anger.
"Okay, maybe I got it wrong back then," she said. "It sure as hell looks like maybe I did. I'm sorry about that. Oh my God—I am so damn sorry! Okay? Harvey, you said I had half an hour. I've only used up five minutes. Okay?"
"Okay," I said.
She was actually wringing her hands as she prepared to go on. "Harvey, what I'm going to say now may hurt you some, I guess. But, on the other side of the coin, some of it should make you feel kinda good, so maybe it'll be a wash in those respects.
"What it most definitely will be, Harv, is the unadorned truth. You deserve at least that much."
"Thank you. That's all I want. I mean the truth. If there is any chance for us, the truth is the only path to find it," I said. "The only path, Elise." Boy was I freakin' wrong.
"I know," she said. I spread my hands in a get on with it gesture.
"I guess I have to start with the bottom line and go from there," she paused, and looked at me with almost pleading eyes.
"Harvey, frankly your dinky dick is a big part of it. It really isn't enough for me. Nor would it be for most women." I could feel my eyes cloud over: so much for my vestigial ego.
"I can hardly feel you when you're inside of me. So, I guess, you were partly right last night when you said that I would be granting you mercy fucks when we did it together. I know I am hurting your pride saying that. But, I don't want for us to begin anew on any false basis."
"Yeah, well thanks one helluva lot," I sneered.
"Listen, Harvey, a fuck is a fuck, regardless of the kind. You get me whenever and wherever you want. We—I'll—be doing it for you. Not just to show you mercy either, but because you deserve it and you have rights, just as I have rights and needs," she said.
"And, I will always—always Harvey—be doing my level best to make it thrilling for you. Mercy fucks? Okay, so damn what if they are. Like I said, a fuck is a fuck. And, there will be those occasions, Harv, and yes believe it or not there have been some in the past, when you do get me off—thrill me if you get my drift. What we've got, Harvey, is love. As important as sex is, and it is important, it comes in a distant second to our love for each other."
My tears began rolling down my face. I could feel them. She still paid me little notice. It was like she was in her own little world desperately trying to find a way to sell her logic.
"All that said, Harvey, again, cock size is only a part of the picture. There are other things that a woman needs that you give me that none of the other men I've been with ever have. Add to those the fact that you are the most sensitive and loving person in the whole world. You, sir, are my knight in shining armor. I need you more than you ever needed me. Believe it," she said.
"Harvey, I intend, I need, to keep on seeing other men for sex. Or, more accurately their big dicks." I started to say something, but she held her hands up to stop me. "Please, Harv, this is important." I shut up and waited; I didn't trust my voice not to crack anyway.
"So, why should you stay with me. Harv, because, I will make it my business to include you. We will work out the details between us. Last night was the first act in that process," she said. I looked her askance.
"The sloppy seconds," she said. "It was a huge turn on for me to fuck you with another man's cum inside of me. And, even though you may not be quite ready to admit it, I think it was for you too. If nothing else, Harv, I know you."
"Fuck you!" I said. "You think—you want—you want me to me to be willing to routinely follow your friends into your pussy after you get it on with them? Is that it? Are you nuts, Elise?"
"You did it last night, Harv. And no, I'm not crazy. And watching your dick twitching while we talked about giving you your first sloppy load last night was the proof of the pudding, Harv. Go ahead deny it if you dare. Tell me you weren't turned on by the idea of following another man into me, Harvey. Go ahead, tell me.
"So much time lost, so much to make up for. I have no words," she said.
I sat there utterly stunned. She had no words? I had no words either. Include me. How? She'd already totally shredded my manhood.
"Okay, I dare. I deny it! Got it. Yes, I let you do me last night. Yes, I knew I was getting some other man's leavings. But, I was out of it, lost. I didn't really know what I was doing. Today, I do know, Elise.
"Elise you have already cut me so low I have to look up to see my goddamned footprints. I'm nothing in bed? Sloppy seconds in my future—I mean me willingly and gratefully accepting mercy fucks and sloppy seconds to make you feel better about destroying me? Never again!" I said. "Never again! Hell will freeze over before I accept your idea of togetherness.
"This is the deal, Elise. Okay, no sex for me anymore. At any rate, not until I am single again. I get it: I understand what I am to you now. It'll be tough on me, but I will just have to do without until I can afford to move out and get a divorce. I figure a few months, and I'll be able to do it. In the meantime we will cohabit, but as far as I'm concerned we're done, you and I, as a couple.
"Go out there and screw everything in sight if you want, but one thing Elise, not here in the house. Not ever. Not until I move out, not until then. You got it!" I said. "Grant me at least that smidgen of respect, please."
I was not being nice. Maybe I was nothing to her. Hell, it was obvious I was nothing to her, but I still had a little pride.
She nodded. "Okay, Harvey, I knew it was going to be tough for you to accept. I'll be patient; I owe you that. But, Harv, if you think over what I've been saying; well, I think you might want to reconsider. The door is open, and it will stay open forever, Harvey. You are my beloved even if it doesn't seem so at the moment. Please, give what I've said some thought." I didn't answer her, I just looked at her and went to the bathroom; that coffee could sure run through a guy.
The tears, too, seemed never to want to stop, and the toilet paper was there.
We settled into a quiet existence. She, for her part, opted for patience, as she'd promised, as her modus operandi. Me? For my part, I opted for a modus of grim determination. I knew she figured that my hormones would force the issue in her favor. She did not count on the degree of pain I was possessed of, and that mainly as a result of the hurt she'd heaped on me. Oh, she was aware of the hurt all right, but she saw it as her being truthful while at the same time offering me a viable and attractive alternative. Wrong didn't even begin to express her miscalculation.
Our problems, to be as euphemistical as one can be, had begun in January; it was now the end of November. We went to work; we ate together, mostly silently; she'd smile and periodically come on to me; and I'd demur, without rancor, but I'd demur.
She and I did talk some, but my knowing she was out fucking everything with a third leg made any intimate conversation by us a non-happening.
We never went anywhere together now, and that fact was about to pose a small problem. Since neither of us had any close family left, we'd always spent the holidays together or with a few close friends. Thanksgiving and Christmas were the biggees; now they were upon us; it promised to be a sad time at least for me. But in her case, I think she saw their approach as an opportunity.
"Harvey, could I ask you something. I know we are kinda just floating and not going anywhere right now, and I do hope that that will change," she said, giving me a mushy look. "Anyway, I mean would it be all right, you know, to have Thanksgiving Dinner together somewhere?"
Her request had come out of the blue and had caught me kinda flatfooted as one might say. "I guess," I said. "Where did you have in mind?"
"Anywhere but McDonald's," she laughed. I was forced to smile back at her. Okay, so she got a point in with that one.
"The Road House," I said. "Haven't had a good steak in a long time," I was not all that partial to Turkey, and what did I have to be thankful for anyway. She gave me a strange look but turned it into a winsome smile.
"Good," she said.
Thanksgiving was this coming Thursday; I made the reservations.
Some may ask, why, with my marriage cratering did I even want to be anywhere near the whore. I don't know if I can really give a coherent reason for that, but I guess that two words fit the bill as well as any: Love and Loneliness.
Yes, I was still in love with her, and yes I was lonely as hell—even with her still around and trying to make me, entice me, into doing her. God it was tough not to.
We arrived at the upscale dinner club at about 7:00PM. The band had yet to start up, though a couple of the members were busy setting up their equipment. The people in attendance were in varying stages of eating on this Holiday evening. Seated, we ordered and soon the wine was flowing and we each were on the brink of achieving a mellow mood. I don't know, it's something about wine, it seems to have more power to mellow out a person than does beer or the hard stuff.
"How was your steak, Harv?" said Elise. She was smiling, and it was kind of a wishful smile.
"Good, very good, it always is here," I said. "It kinda makes me miss the old days. I mean—never mind." I stopped before I ruined the mood. She nodded and didn't push it; she knew what I meant. She didn't want to ruin the mood either.
The band had started up and it wasn't so loud that we couldn't hear ourselves as is often the case with live bands. The first song was kinda romantic.
"Any chance you'd be willing to lead this old broad around the dance floor, husband mine?" she said. I hesitated. Eating was one thing, but dancing to a romantic song was entirely another. She noticed my reticence. "It's okay. No pressure." I felt like shit. I shouldn't have, but I did.
"Of course," I said, finally. "But you're not an old broad. You're the prettiest woman here. Every man in the place is probably jealous of me." She smiled broadly. I stood and offered her my hand. Tomorrow we'd be back in the trenches silently fighting it out, but tonight there was a truce.
I think I only stepped on her toes once or twice. A dancer I wasn't, but I was a tryer. We danced a few tunes, all slow, and then came the ChaCha. I actually knew the basic steps, but I knew I looked awful doing them. Elise on the other hand looked magnificent, female, sexy. I was definitely just a prop for her for the evening. Kinda reminded me of my role as her sex partner, not very good, but better than absolutely nothing at all. Dance over, we headed back to our table. I was perspiring pretty good, but I was not entirely ruined physically.
We'd just settled into our seats when a shadow loomed over my right shoulder.
"Hey Elise, decided to take dinky-dick out for a bite to eat," said the man.
"Harry! What in the hell are you doing here. My husband and I..."
"Yeah, I can see, you're having a bite to eat. I'm here with Janie. Thanksgiving and all that." A busty blond appeared behind his massive frame. Jesus the guy was big, maybe six-four by two-fifty.
I'd been silent. I decided to not be anymore. I stood up. The guy had a hundred pounds on me. But, well, what could he do to me that his words hadn't done worse.
"Nobody asked you here, Harry. Why don't you just run along and play with yourself," I said. I wasn't quite shaking in my boots.
"Nah, not yet. I was just gonna offer your wife an opportunity to join us at our table. We'd invite you, but three's company if you get my meaning—Dinky." He said. I had to. I took a swing at him.
To say that he mopped the floor up with me would be an understatement of heroic proportions. But, then, I really didn't have a lot of memory of the event after the first half-minute or so, so what do I know. I did hear a scream or two.
I couldn't have been out too long though. A paramedic revived me and pronounced me fit to go home if I had someone to drive me. Elise volunteered.
"He'll be spending the night in jail, honey, if that's any consolation," she said, as she drove. I sat back and did my best to not feel the pain. At least I hadn't wimped out, dinky dick had stuck up for himself.
"Yeah, sure," I said. "Whatever."
"Honey, I am so sorry that asshole did that to you. Why in the world did you swing at him. He's so big, Harv." She said.
"You're kidding right. And what would you have thought of me if I had just let him get away with humiliating me in public. You know, his dinky dick comments. I should ask you how he knew about the size of my dick, but that's kinda obvious isn't it. Oh, and yes, him inviting you to join him at his table for a threesome, I think he said.
"Tell me, Elise, would you have gone? Would you have joined him and that blond bombshell," I said.
"No! Of course not! You are my husband not that idiot," she said. "Trust me, he ain't never getting' into these pants again. You on the other hand..." she didn't finish the sentence. I suppose I was supposed to.
We did not have sex that night, nor the next, nor the next. We once again settled into our state of trench warfare, neither side giving nor gaining any ground. Good 'ole Harry, for the record, spent three days in jail as it happened. I knew that because of an overheard phone conversation between Elise and one of her woman friends. Evidently, mister macho man was peeved, since I had thrown the first punch, that he'd had to spend any time in the slam at all. But, I guess the judge after hearing the facts didn't agree. He got thirty days for a knocked down charge of being drunk and disorderly, all suspended but three days. I'd spent the same three days recuperating from my beating. At least I'd gotten better food.
I thought it interesting that Elise had enquired about the asshole, at least enough to find out what happened to him, how many days he spent in the slam. I didn't say anything; what would have been the point.
I'd saved and I'd calculated. I went without my bi weekly trips to my therapist, aka my bartender. I'd brought no new clothes and refused those, among other things, that my wife tried to ply me with, and she did try to ply me: I think my refusals hurt her feelings but so fucking what. After my beating by one of her two night stands, especially after that, I wanted nothing to do with her that wasn't either required by law or a matter of basic humanity; none of which included me accepting gifts from her, and certainly not offers of sex.
Over the course of almost year, as mentioned, it had taken that long to get myself to a place where I could comfortably get out and move on; I had gotten no less than half a hundred offers of mercy sex from Elise though she never again called them that. Indeed, she did her level best to make her offers as palatable to me as she could, but her words putting me down as a man wouldn't go away; she'd all but verbally castrated me; I could hardly get it up anymore, at least not like before.
Not for Elise, nor it seemed for any woman if it came to that. My humiliation was that total. In my renewed bitterness, it was easy for me to turn her down every time she tried to seduce me. I know she cried some too; I know she finally realized she had gone too far with her so called honesty. Water under the bridge? Fuck no, a raging fire in my stomach and a freezing cold in my heart.
And, she knew I was horny as hell: she'd caught me often enough almost desperately watching her, wishing I could do something to her with my cock, or at least get it up. At least she never again made an issue of cock again, the size of it; that at least was something.
She knew too that I would not have sex outside the bonds of marriage, and I even think she was hoping that I would take that route though she never said so outright. Hence, I guess, she felt compelled to offer me that which I would not ask for. Finally, her level of frustration at her failure to tempt me led to a confrontation that proved to be the catalyst for my finally leaving. The timing was right.
"Harvey, I know you're climbing the walls. Just stop this nonsense and take me. I mean it; do it now. Take me upstairs and do me good. You need it, I need it; we can help each other," she said.
"You don't want sex from me, Elise. You've said it. I believe it. And, so it's a non-happening with the situation we've got here. I've got that much pride in myself. I've said it a dozen times if I've said it once: I will not accept a mercy fuck from you or anybody else. Never-never-never!" I said, as vehemently as I ever said anything.
"Harvey, it wouldn't be a mercy fuck. It would be a makeup fuck if anything. I misspoke those months ago, and I apologize. You can satisfy me. You maybe need to work a little harder at it than some others, but you've satisfied me in the past; you can again. You just have to give yourself a chance, and me a chance. Please, Harvey!" she said.
"Why do you need me for sex, Elise? I know you've been doing other guys this past year. Hell, some weeks you're gone five nights in a row. Tell me, that those nights you were gone, you were at the library studying ways to save a marriage. No, don't tell me that; it would be a lie; there've been enough of those," I said.
"Okay, yes, I've had sex with some others. You could too, Harvey. We could make this a good thing instead of the bad thing that it is. Please, my good man. Please. Let's end this game and move on," she said.
Well, now that's the first thing you've said that I agree with. We do need to move on," I said. I could see her mood lighten; it wouldn't last.
"I will be moving out in the morning after you go to work. This is the end of us, Elise. You can have your big dicks and all that goes with them. Me—not." I headed up the stairs to the guest bedroom that I had been occupying for the past eleven and a half months It was mid-December. I thought I heard her crying during the night, but it was no use: she was a whore and she wanted to remain one. I couldn't live with that, not even.
When things go to hell, like marriages sometimes do, they really go to hell. My experience was just such. I'd had to finally make a break with the only one I had ever really loved in my entire life. Those who have been through it know what it's like, and they also know why it took me a year to get to the place where I could actually go through with the break up. And, now my life was shit. Was it worse shit than the shit I'd been living with for the past year? Who the hell new. I sure as hell had no fucking idea. Both were bad. Both were beyond my control. Helluva thing.
I called in sick—again. "Hold on for a minute, Harvey, Cap Dorsey wants to talk to you," said Karen, the boss' secretary.
"Sure," I said. I knew what he wanted. It was my fifth call-in-sick in the previous month and a half. It'd been some three months, now, since my breakup with my wife.
"Hello, Harvey?" said the bass voice of my long time boss and friend.
"Hi, boss. Not feeling too good today. I'm calling in sick," I said.
"Harvey, this is the last time. I know your breakup with Elise was a killer. I understand that. But, you have to get by it and get on with your life. Stop crying in your beer and get back to us. This is the last time, Harvey. No more sick outs, none." He hung up. I looked at the phone and slowly placed it back in its cradle.
I took stock of my situation. A good job, a broken heart, no one to come home to. One out of three didn't look too good to me. I determined to not be sick, even if I was sick, anymore.
The Hard Hat was a bar I'd discovered over the course of the last couple of months. It, or rather the people who worked there or frequented it, had kinda become my family. And like any family, its members had a tendency to not only empathize with a guy like me but very often to overdo it. The day after my discussion with Cap Dorsey, actually Captain Dorsey of our local police department, I was late again. I was also fired.
Wonderful, zero out of three is even worse than one out of three. I was pretty near rock bottom. But, I had skills. Somebody would have pity on me.
After our breakup, I cut myself completely off from Elise. She had the house, but she also had all of the bills attendant to it. I didn't send her a dime, and, she never asked for anything. I knew she had to be barely getting by, her auto parts sales job was a good one but not all that good. I smiled to myself; maybe she'd had to ask some of her many fuck buddies to help her; well, that was just too damn bad.
It should be noted that neither of us had so far filed for divorce, in my case because I couldn't afford it. As for her? Probably the same reason, I reasoned.
It did happen, that I'd had to move out of the little so-called apartment, that which I had been flopping in since being fired. Not, ironically, because I couldn't afford it; but because the owner wanted to remodel the building. Inconvenient, but not a big problem. I had luckily chosen something so cheap that I had actually been able to save a little money. That fact was able to cover me until I got my next job, at Radio Shack.
The job at RS was mindless and paid accordingly, but it filled the bill for me. The bad news was that RS Inc. had even less patience than had Cap Dorsey and the police department: I was fired again.
To make a really long story short, I spent the next three years moving from job to job staying just barely ahead of my creditors—of which thankfully there were but few. And, then, as luck would have it, I caught on with a job that actually made sense for someone with my skills and emotional baggage. Forty-one years old, I was, and I finally had a career worth bragging about.
I got a job at the Hard Hat as night cleanup guy and security guard. Basically my hours were midnight to eight in the morning: two hours more or less of cleanup, and the rest just touring the parking lot on the lookout for potential break-ins. The HH had had several attempted such and a couple of successful ones over time, and Mac Steiner, the owner, saw a use for a semi-derelict like me and let me stay in the back room and even paid me the princely sum of seventy-five good American dollars weekly; I was in hog heaven.
Hell, my new job fit my state of mind and my body. And, if my good fortune at finding a good job were not enough, Mr. Steiner even provided me with a set of three bran-clean uniforms and a guard's badge; man was I a lucky sonovabitch!
Finally, steadily employed, I wasn't completely bereft of good sense even if I was bereft of anything remotely resembling feelings of self-worth, that thanks to Elise's honest evaluation of my sexual skills. Now, every morning after work, I hit the park and jogged between five and six miles—mostly six. By the end of that first year at the Hard Hat, I was pickin' 'em up and puttin' 'em down at a pretty good clip. I could do the six in under ninety minutes every time. The even better news was that the exercise and the resultant conditioning not only kept me in pretty good physical shape but also allowed me to sleep through the six hours after getting back each morning without a problem. This last had not been the case for the three years previous to my finding my now steady employment.
My sex life? What sex life? My humiliation at the way my so-called wife had educated me as to my potential attraction to the opposite sex precluded me from asking any woman—I mean any woman—for a date, let alone sex. No, no sex life except for my almost nightly visit to the den of the five sisters: I had to keep my ball sack empty to keep from going nuts. Helluva life.
In the now four years since my exit from our marital home, I had not laid eyes on nor heard anything from or about Elise. I thought about her virtually all of the time, but they were just random nostalgic thoughts and wishful thinking—daydreaming. And, virtually every time I thought about her to any extent, I cried. What she had done to me, well my ego, was just too devastating to believe. I hated God for leaving me so bereft of manhood, and I cried about that too. Despair was my lot and it was ever present. But, even for a loser like me there is an occasional sliver of light penetrating the shadows of my conscious mind. Her name was Molly Cummings.
Molly was short, twenty pounds overweight, so I estimated, and possessed of a list of emotional baggage almost as long as mine. The difference was that she was dealing with it, whereas it, my emotional baggage, was dealing with me. We were made for each other—sort of. Well, we understood each other.
Almost every night we met up at the HH and commiserated over a glass of wine.
For the record, even with all of my problems, I was not drinking heavily. Oh, there were stil the occasional bad nights, had been especially so in the early days after my leaving Elise; but those days were behind me; I supposed that was a good thing.
Molly was soft spoken and a good listener. I returned the favor of course, that is I became a good listener too.
"So, what's the good news?" said Molly.