I had overheard a couple of guys talking about my wife who had just left for the restroom. We had stopped for a brew at the Dew Drop Inn. It was not my normal hangout, but Naomi had just picked me up from the National Guard airport in Little Rock where I had just returned from my annual two weeks of active duty with the Reserves. I'm Capt. Robert Thompson, US Army (Res).
Three years ago, I had twelve years in active duty and had just returned stateside from my third tour in the sandbox. I had escorted my best friend in the service, Sergeant First Class (SFC) Wesley Minor, back to the world. We had been best friends since grade school. The problem was that he came back in a silver colored box with a flag draped over it. I came back with a divot out of my leg from the IED that had killed my best friend. I left active duty and went into the Reserves. Wes had a wife at home, Naomi Minor. Wes and Naomi were big into bikes; you know motorcycles, scooters, hogs, whatever you want to call them. They both had numerous tattoos on their body. Myself, I had gotten a tat on my right pectoral of a soldier pissing on a raghead in a sandbox. That was my one of my claims to the biker brotherhood. I also rode an old '82 chopper that was a combination of about five years worth of parts, depending on what part you were looking at. It did have one of the old '83 1338 cc shovelheads that had been reworked to about 1400 ccs. I was always an independent, so I wore no colors, but Wes was a patch holder in a small club. It was not one of the major clubs in the US; however, they were graced with permission from the major club in the area.
Wes made me promise to look after Naomi before he died, and I tried to keep that promise. About a year after we buried Wes, Naomi became my wife so that I could protect her and look after her. I had always liked her a lot, but with her married to Wes, I would never tread on his territory.
Anyway back to the two drunks; they were mentioning the biker bitch's new tat. They described it as a guy with a lawnmower cutting a chunk out of her pubic hair. It was coming from the right to the left. I knew that Naomi had a nice arrowhead-shaped nest down below, but I had never seen that tat before, but believe you me I was going to be looking for it when we got home. We were about twenty-five miles from England, AR, over by the Clinton National Airport where we had stopped in to wet our whistle after I was coming back from Ft. Hood in Texas. Our small town didn't have an airport big enough to land the big jet we came home in.
I looked over at them again, and I recognized Rodney Devon as someone in Naomi's real estate office. I wondered what he was doing clear up here. I was still dirty from camping out for two weeks in the sand and scrub brush of central Texas, and had my BDUs on as well, which made identification a little iffy, plus the dimly lit bar. When Naomi came back, I said, "Let's hit the road, I want to get home to take a well deserved shower and sleep in our bed again."
Naomi glanced over to the two drunks. She suddenly agreed and quickly turned away from them and headed for the door. Well that looks suspicious, doesn't it? I thought so too. I drove the rest of the way home to England and just put the car in the garage. I could get my gear out tomorrow. I stripped off in the garage and went to the master bath, naked as the day I was born, and then turned the water on as hot as I could stand it, and let it wash away the two weeks' accumulation of dirt and grime off of me and wondered what I was going to do now.
When Wes was gone, the brothers and sisters of the club kept an eye on Naomi, but now that she wasn't part of that club any longer, and since I was not a patch holder, there was no one to watch over her, except me. But who watched over her when I was gone?
Now came my problem; do I jump her bones or do I just pass out from the relief from being home. I decided on the latter, and I collapsed on the bed nude after my shower, and just laid there. Naomi came in and tried to roust me, but I was having none of it and sleepily begged to be left alone and to let me sleep. Naomi later got undressed, cuddled up to me, and went to sleep.
I was awakened by a warm mouth on my cock early the next morning, and I got right into the wakeup call. Once I came, I turned on the bed and proceeded to give her as good as I got this morning. Yep, there was a new tat, and it was the lawnmower. Well, I guess I will ask who gave her the tat while I was gone. It normally takes at least a week for the tattoo to heal, and since I have been gone almost 16 days, it's no wonder that Rodney knew about the new tattoo. After I ate Naomi to a couple of real great cums, I slid home and just fucked the holy hell out of her pussy. I was pounding her for all I was worth, thinking that I would show her what she made me feel.
"Hey, Bob, a little easier, OK? You don't have to make it all up in one fuck. I know you've been gone a while, but ease up a little, OK?"
"I'm sorry, Babe, but I wanted you to get something out of it before I blew again. I'm still on kind of a hair trigger. I'll do better next time." I had shot her pussy full of my little wigglers, and I wanted the last time to be a real eye opener for her.
"By the way, Hon, what's with the new tat? It's not that I don't think it's cute, but who gave that one to you; was it Dave again?" Dave was the one that had done the artwork on me and on several of Wes' and hers as well.
"No, I had Julie do it over at Altered. Something like that I wouldn't trust a man, even Dave, to do, especially since you were going to be gone. I got it right after you left, since I knew that we would be bumping ugly as soon as you got home. I wanted to be over the sore part before you got back."
The next day was Monday, and we both were supposed to be at work, so I put off any more digging to see what went on while I was gone. I worked in the IT department of a law firm. I approached my boss, told him that I might have a personal problem, and asked which lawyer was the best for divorces. He recommended Emily Harris; she was the most ruthless against women who had wronged a man. I called her office to make an appointment to see her. I was put right through to her, and she said, "What can I do for you, Bob? You said this was personal, and since you are a valued member of this firm and just got back from your two weeks of Reserve duty, I assume it's about a divorce due to adultery."
"Yeah, kind of, Mrs. Harris, there is nothing I can prove, but I did overhear a conversation Saturday night in The Dew Drop Inn Bar and Grill up by the Clinton Airport. Two guys were talking about my wife, and I gathered that at least one of them had been intimate with my wife while I was gone on this trip. I wanted to discuss fees and options available to me regarding dissolving my marriage."
"I'll tell you what; I have a client coming in at 9:30, but as soon as he is gone, I'll call you back and we can meet then. My next appointment isn't until 2:15 this afternoon. I take it you will need a good PI too, right?"
"I suppose so, but I really can't afford much here, I'm not made of money."
"You let me worry about that part, Bob. You just come in and we'll talk."
"Okay, Mrs. Harris, and thank you. I'll come when you call me."
"Bob, it's Emily, not Mrs. Harris. That's my mother-in-law, not me, besides we're co-workers. See you soon."
I think I hung up even more confused than when I started this whole day. Why would a senior partner want me to call her by her first name? Maybe I would find out later. I tried to go back to work; then got a call that I had to go fix the new receptionist's computer again. I keep telling her that she can't download games on her computer anymore. We had added some software that precluded adding or linking with certain websites. This was one of my ideas and we had saved a bunch of money on repairs and costly software so far, because of the people no longer adding porn and gaming sites on their computers. I finished up with the receptionist and she got a call that Mrs. Harris wanted to see me. I left Haley, the receptionist, with my parting statement, "I have had to write this one up, Haley. If we have to come back again for this same problem, I'm not sure that you'll have this job anymore. Read the memo regarding the downloading of software onto our machines."
I left walking down the hall to Mrs. Harris' office. Rachael Donner was Emily's PA; she announced me and I went on into Mrs. Harris' office.
Emily was an attractive lady about my age, mid-thirties (I was 34 now), nice figure, and seemed fit. She rose and came around her desk, shook my hand, then we moved to her small conference table. This was a 42" round table with three chairs around it. She took the one where there was a yellow tablet. I sat opposite her after she was seated.
"Okay, Bob, tell me everything about yourself that I can't get from your personnel file."
I went back to when I was active duty, giving her most of the highlights until today. She didn't ask any questions until I finished, but she did take a lot of notes.
"Right, now to this conversation you overheard; do you remember it word for word or just the highlights?"
I gave it back to her word for word. I did add that Naomi normally got all her tattoos from Dave at Anchor Tattoo over in White Hall, but she said that Julie gave her this one, and the only Julie I recall is now up at Altered Images in Little Rock, up near where we were Saturday evening. Now Rodney may have seen her getting the tat, but I doubt that. Rodney is a known womanizer, but as far as I know, he is not into getting any ink."
.... There is more of this story ...