For my first story of the new year I decided to give you guys a salad. When I started writing this story I wanted to write something in line with HueDogg's comment from a few weeks back. At the same time I've been thinking about how ny stories usually end with the guy and his new woman driving off into the sunset. I usually do that for two reasons. One is because the only time I didn't do that (Sundown part one, you guys made me write second part) and because for those of you who are in the midst of a divorce I like to give you hope that things will turn out better, I mean, you all know that they did for me, Anyway ... while I ws writing that story I read an article on the net about people who stay married even though they haven't had sex in sometimes ridiculous numbers of years. And not all of them cheat on each other either. So this story is made up of bits and pieces of lots of things. It's a salad. Don't stop believing. Mikoe the baby did her usual excellent job of making my gibberish legible. And I have to admit that I told her something thta wasn't true. The Raspberry cocoa is now our second favorite type. We like the caramel best. SS06
Almost every day I wonder how things got this bad. I'm sure that I have high blood pressure and probably a host of other diseases, that will, in the end, hasten my death. In my case, death will be a welcome thing. It has to be better than the constant pain and depression that I've lived with for the past eleven years.
My friends also wonder why. I guess it's hard for them to imagine being a prisoner for this length of time. When you look at it, eleven years is a long time to be sentenced to. Under certain circumstances, I could have been freed before this if I'd killed someone. And I haven't committed any crimes.
Sometimes, I can't help myself. Occasionally, I look at the clock ticking on the wall. I watch the minute hand and the second hand as they slowly make their circuits around the clock's face. Sometimes, I look past the minutes and seconds and allow myself to think of the time in days or weeks or months.
Once in a while, I take the long view and think about what I could have done and what my life would have been like if I'd been free.
Sometimes, as I watch the smiling face of the warden as he marches up the stairs to attend to his pursuits, I begin to wonder what my life will be like when I am no longer sentenced to serve under him. Although he isn't supposed to, I've seen him take women up to his room. I guess he has a right to have a woman every now and then, even though I can't.
It's been eleven years since I last had a woman. No conjugal visits for me. I no longer trust women. After all, it was a woman who did this to me. She took away my manhood, broke my heart and ruined my trust in women all at the same time. Of course if you ask her she always says the same thing. She says, "It wasn't her fault it was all just a mistake."
The worst thing about it is that she was supposed to be the person I'd spend the rest of my life with. She was the woman I loved more than any other person on God's green earth. She was my wife, the mother of my children and I'd always thought; my soul-mate.
My sun, my moon and my entire world centered on June. Maybe that was a bit too much responsibility to place on one woman's shoulders. It's a terrible thing to place someone that high on a pedestal and have them fall so utterly and completely on their ass.
As I drive onto the freeway off ramp, my aging but still potent 1999 Mustang GT growls a bit. The low rumble is her way of letting all of the cars around us know that though she's 14 years old and at least a couple of generations removed from the beautiful 2013 Mustang that blew by us a few miles back, she's still a beast.
Of course, she's a toothless beast since even the V6's now have more horsepower than she has, but that doesn't matter to either of us. I pat her affectionately on the dashboard and reassure her that she's still my girl.
A rare smile crosses my lips as Journey's "Don't stop believing," comes on the radio.
"Just a city boy. Born and raised in south Detroit," that's where the verse ends for me. You see, I missed that midnight train going anywhere and I'm STILL ... STUCK ... HERE.
I didn't stop believing. My belief was torn from me along with my dreams of a good life. And whenever I try to hold onto that feeling, it eludes me as I contemplate the walls of my prison. But someday, like all caged birds, I'll be free.
I sing along with Steve and the boys for a few blocks and then my temporary elation and hopes for a day when the doors to the prison swing open fade. I sigh as I turn off the engine and get out of the car.
My house is a small but well kept-up ranch in a suburb just outside of Detroit. It's not worth much money and the area isn't what it once was, but at least it's outside of the city.
Most of our neighbors envy my house, while I envy their happiness and their lives. Since I have neither of those, all of my energy goes into the house, my car and especially my kids.
I call my kids the wardens because they're the only reason I'm stuck here. I love my kids more than anything. There is nothing I wouldn't do for either of them. So enduring this is nothing.
My daughter, Melissa, is away at college and her brother, Todd, will join her in less than one more year. I smile just thinking about it, then smile again as I open the door and walk into the house.
"Hello Dell," says June, as I walk into the house. I notice that the house smells wonderful.
"I made a roast," she says. "I made it the way you like it with carrots and celery. Of course, I threw some potatoes in too, because your son loves them."
I don't even look at her as I head back into the bedroom and grab running gear out of the drawers and closet there. I change and go right back outside to run. I can't help seeing June's face as I walk past her.
"Todd is going to a friend's house to study after practice," she says. "Should I wait and eat with you or just leave you a plate in the oven?"
"Neither, please," I say without looking at her. "I'm probably not going to be very hungry."
I leave quickly to avoid further conversation. I jog down my street and nod or wave at the neighbors I pass before I get to the park. Once I enter the park, I start to run faster and pretend not to see or notice the people I pass.
An hour later, I stagger back into the house, exhausted and out of breath. I take a warm shower and microwave a slice of three day old pizza for dinner. June frowns as she watches me do it.
She showers while I eat it, washing it down with a Pepsi.
"Dell, can we please talk?" she asks. I turn to look at her.
June, even at her age, is an attractive woman; at least she is to me. But my opinion probably doesn't count because I've loved her since the first time I saw her.
As I wait for her to begin her latest futile effort, I shake my head and look at her. She's short with brown hair in a pixie cut. Her breasts aren't large but the nipples still stand straight out. She's put on a very sheer nightie and her nipples are so hard I can make out the lines and bumps on them as she stands in front of me.
I unfold the blanket that's always on the couch as she moves towards me.
"Dell, why are you still sleeping on the couch?" she begins. "It makes no sense."
"I'm sleeping on the couch because you've turned Melissa's room into an office," I said. "My plan was to sleep in there, but it just wasn't worth arguing over. Besides I'm used to disappointments and things not working out the way I want them to."
"Dell, there's no reason for you to sleep in Melissa's room when we have a room of our own. I'd never try to force you into anything, but don't you miss... ?"She paused and let out a sigh. "Dell, I'd give anything just to sleep beside you again," she tried to hide the sobs but they came out any way. "Dell, it's been ten years," she cried. "I want you so bad I could pull my hair out. Couldn't we ... just once... ?"
"June, are you out of guys to fuck?" I asked. "You're so desperate that you're hitting on me now?"
"Dell, there haven't been any guys," she sobbed. "I haven't had sex with anyone except myself since..."
"Well, that's YOUR fault," I smirked. "I've got all kinds of women after me. I'm laying more pipe than a team of plumbers. And I'm doing it all June. All of those things that you swore you'd only let ME do, that you did with..."
"Stop it Dell," she screamed. "Don't say another fucking word!"
I lay down on the couch and pulled the blanket over me. "Know why I was late getting home today?" I leered. She looked at me through her tears. "I was with Sue. She gave me the best blow job I've ever had. She licked my dick like it was an ice cream cone and she swallowed every drop when she was done. Next time I'm gonna' slurp on her pussy until my tongue falls off."
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she turned to the computer in the corner of the room. She printed out an email and handed it to me. The message detailed everything I'd done since leaving work.
"You left work at the normal time and stopped off for gas," she said. "You checked your own oil levels and went into the station to buy a quart. You put it in yourself. You drove home the long way and you sat in the driveway singing along to some old rock song," she said. There was silence for a while.
.... There is more of this story ...