Ever think about words and their meaning? I do, sometimes.

Cliche is one of my favorites. In most dictionaries the standard definition is: "A phrase dulled in meaning by repetition".

In my case the cliche was a cheating spouse. I know, I know, the cliche of cliches. An occurrence so common in marriages we seem to have a whole section of the judicial system dedicated to it.

Even that has become cliche. It's no longer an infrequent event, allowing the system to become jaded, bandying around "irreconcilable differences" and "no fault" in increasing volume and boredom. So what? Big deal! It happened, now get over it Or not. Doesn't matter to the system. Deal with it. This is the age of "no fault."

Unless it happens to you. And it's always someone's fault.

Another word I find interesting is "ratshot". Ratshot is a type of ammunition, usually in .22 caliber, but available for a variety of weapons. It's basically a miniature shotgun shell, holding a few tiny balls of lead. Not lethal, unless you're a rat.

I discovered ratshot when I was twelve. We lived about a half mile from the county landfill, a mecca for scavengers, especially rats and vultures. That particular year conditions were perfect for the rat population to explode.

I had an old twenty two single shot rifle, and dad bought me two boxes of ratshot.

"Thin'em down boy, they're startin' to get into the chicken feed."

My ten year old brother and I had a ball. Dad had to buy us two more boxes of ammo. We had pretty much annihilated the rat population around the house, so we ventured farther afield.

We were in a field beside the dump, shooting rats as fast as we could reload. They were huge suckers, easily a pound or more.

I had just reloaded and handed it to my brother. I stepped back, we we gun savvy enough to stay out of the field of fire. Just then what must have been the king rat burst out of some brush at my feet.

"Look Jimmy" I yelled "Get him."

Jimmy took my advice, but not before I was clear. He got the rat, but he also put two pellets in my ankle.

I discovered two unsettling truths about myself that day. I DID NOT like pain, and I tended to react badly to being hurt. I also discovered I had a terrible temper, because when I realized what I was doing, I had my brother on the ground screaming and crying, while I screamed and cursed.

"You dumb son of a bitch, I'm gonna shove this rifle up your ass and pop a cap, see how you like it!"

Luckily, the rifle wasn't loaded. I may have actually shot him. I let him go and threw the rifle across the field. I calmed my brother down, apologized, and we agreed never to speak of it. For one thing, we were both afraid of what our dad might do, and at the very least he would never let us near firearms again. So we told out mom I scratched my ankle on a wire fence. I guess over time the pellets melted away, but who knows, they may still be in my ankle.

My temper surfaced a few times during my high school years. Soon enough word got around to not get me started because I didn't know when to quit. Although through most of high school I was only five seven and a hundred and forty pounds, nobody really pushed me. I got my last growth spurt in my senior year, going to five ten and one seventy.

I went to college on a scholarship, getting a degree in accounting and inventory control, along with a veneer of gentility and a few good friends. I had a roommate for the last three years that was from a moderately successful family, and he taught me a lot about manners and social graces. I taught him how to not take shit from anyone, ever. I think what I taught him helped him become a really good trial lawyer. I actually met my future wife at one of the parties his family hosted, although we didn't actually get together for a few years, she went to the west coast and I stayed local.

It was four years after graduation. We were celebrating Ron passing the bar. I hadn't seen many of the guest since my graduation, so there was a lot of whatever happened to so and so going on.

I asked one of our old classmates about Jenny.

"Man, that woman was hot! I bet she's married to some CEO by now, tanning by the country club pool, polishing her jewelry. Or maybe by now she's the CEO, and pays someone to polish her jewelry. The only thing hotter than her body was her brain."

Scotty and Ron were standing there grinning like idiots. I instantly knew I had said something wrong.

"What? The way you're looking at me she's standing right behind me."

I looked at Ron as he tried to keep a straight face. I knew then.

"Hello Jenny" I said without turning around.

"Give me a second while I pull this foot out of my mouth."

As I turned I saw her pull her hand off her mouth as she, Ron, and Scotty collapsed into laughter.

I picked her up and twirled her around.

"Damn, you even smell as good as you used to. Back for a visit?"

Her smile stopped.

"No, I've moved home. Things on the west coast didn't work out for me as well as I expected."

I hugged her.

"Their loss. Welcome back."

We all chatted for a few minutes before one of her girlfriends dragged her away. I looked at Ron.

"What happened?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know any details. My mom said she got married, but she came back alone without any rings. I'm sure she'll tell us if she wants her to know."

I was leaving, making the rounds and saying goodbye, when Jenny came up to me.

"Since you're leaving, could you give me a ride home? I'm staying with my mom, and I know it's on our way."

I smiled. A little time alone with a beautiful girl? It would do wonders for my mood.

"Sure thing. Do you need a minute to let who you came with know?"

Her frown spoke volumes.

"I would if I could find her. Sarah left with Scotty a few minutes ago. We probably won't see her for the next two days."

My frown matched hers, but for a different reason. She noticed.

In the car she asked about it.

Sarah was the slut of the group, just like every group. And Scot was the horn dog. Married, engaged, single, under age, he never passed up a chance to nail a girl, and brag about it later. I barely tolerated him through school. My attitude towards Scotty mellowed a bit after he got married. And Sarah, well she was just Sarah. Always up for a good time. She married right after she graduated, to a pretty nice guy. He had a job that required travel, just overnight every two or three weeks. She lasted a year before she went out with the girls while he was gone. In three months she was banging everybody. He caught her, and she didn't fight the divorce.

I talked to her about six months after the breakup, actually took her out. There was no spark, we were just two old friends having dinner.

She asked about my love life, I was the last of the group that was still single. I told her that when I found the right one I would settle down and be just another boring suburban husband, worrying about the mortgage and the kids getting braces. She laughed when I asked about her love life.

"I'm a party girl, Sam. I have lots of lovers but no boyfriends. I found out the hard way I'm not real good wife material. I hurt Harry a lot, and I still regret it. The next time I get in a serious relationship is when I can be sure in my mind I'll never betray him. And I mean when I'm really sure, not just when I think I'm sure."

"That's why you and I will never share a bed. You're the most serious of us all, and if we slept together it would have to mean something to you."

"That's my curse. I've heard the stories, and I'd love to stress test your mattress, but I can't because you're my only male friend, and in an odd sort of way I've always held feelings for you. Is any of this making any sort of sense?"

It was. I understood her. She had always been my best female friend, next to Jenny. I wasn't going to let sex screw up our friendship.

Still, even if it was Scotty, she knew he was married.

Jenny smiled.

"Don't be too hard on her, Sam. She was pretty blitzed and you know how quick Scotty will take advantage. I'm sure she'll chew him out tomorrow. I'm a little worried about her."

I made a mental note to have a talk with Sarah the first chance I got. I tried to change the subject.

"What's the story, Jen? Are you back for good, or just paying a visit? You know everybody talks, and they noted you don't have your rings on."

She didn't say anything for a minute, watching the night sky pass by her window.

"It wasn't love at first sight, more like lust. We slept together on our first date, moved in together in three months, married four months later. We were good for each other, at least for a while. Then the cracks appeared. He liked to party more than me. I wanted kids, something we didn't talk about. He made it clear IF we had children, he only wanted one, and wanted to wait at least eight years, so we could get 'established'. He liked to buy stuff but he didn't like paying bills. What it all came down to was I had saddled myself with an immature boy, not a man. When I started telling him no, we drifted apart. One day he was just gone. I'm ashamed to say I was glad."

"My good job went the way of the economy. Without the job and a husband, there was no reason to stay. So I came home. End of story."

I didn't really know what to say.

"I'm sorry your life hasn't gone as you planned, but I'm glad you're back. It got to where if I wanted intelligent conversation, I had to go over to Ron's parents house. Even there all they talk about is law. The upside is I'm a pretty good lay lawyer."

She smiled. Everybody knew not to get us started. We had opinions on everything, usually exactly the opposite of the other. Our debates could last days. Rarely did one of us win.

She smiled, then gave me a serious look.

"Sammy, why didn't we ever date?"

It was a fair question given the time we had spent together.

"I guess I thought too much of you. Sex has a way of messing things up, especially at that age. Look how many of our friends hooked up, broke up, then spent a few months hating each other and trying to get us to choose sides. I didn't want to go through that bullshit and lose you."

She gave me THE look. You know the one I mean. The one that says "You're not gonna like this" while she proceeds to talk you into whatever "this" is. We men know there isn't a defense in the world you can use. You can't win, the best you can hope for is delay.

"Well, we're older, and I've been forced to get wiser. So, next Friday night pick me up at seven. Take me to a really good restaurant, wine me, dine me, take me dancing. I haven't been out like that in ages. I can't think of a better person for me than you. I know you won't take advantage. I'd like to say the same, but it's been a long time, and I may just get you drunk and have my way with you."

By then we had pulled up in front of her house. Giggling at the look on my face, she got out, came over and leaned into my window, and gave me a nice long kiss.

Stepping back, she grinned.

"That'll have to hold you until next Friday. Don't call me, let the anticipation build."

"'Night, Sammy."

I wrestled all week with my reaction. A part of me, a very miniscule part, wanted me not to show up. Another part said show up and keep a distance, as though it was a chore, or a favor. The biggest part of me said "Fool, you've been given a gift. Enjoy it."

So I did. We had a great time. Danced until three. Spent forty minutes in the car steaming the windows, letting our hands roam. Fingered her off, got a hand job. Laughed because we were acting like a couple of teenagers.

We had two more dates, and lunch with her mom. I was really starting to get comfortable with her again. The debates started up like before. I was starting to take her a lot more seriously.

We didn't date the next weekend. I had commitments that took me out of town. She seemed displeased.

"Those plans don't include another female, do they?"

I laughed. "Why, matter of fact they do. I'm going..." was all I got out before she hung up on me. Strange.

I went off and took care of the business I had to attend to, not getting back until Tuesday. I hadn't been home an hour when my phone rang.

An icy voice came on the line.

"Took an extra day to bang her? The weekend wasn't enough? I think you owe..."

I hung up on her, giving serious thought to her sanity.

I didn't talk to her for three days. Then Ron's girlfriend called me out of the blue. I was surprised, we weren't particularly close.

"What's the deal with you and Jenny?"

"Hi, Becca. How's Ron? The wedding planner getting on your nerves yet? Oh, I have no form of deal with Jenny. Tell Ron I said hi."

Poor Ron. I bet he's getting an earful. Sure enough he called forty minutes later, practically begging me to meet him for a drink.

I met him and Scotty at our favorite watering hole. Scotty knew how I felt about what he had done to his wife, and kept quiet.

Before he got a start I cut him off.

"If this is a fishing expedition for Jenny, don't bother wetting your hook. We dated three times, I have to go out of town, and she goes all fatal attraction. I don't know her mindset, but I didn't make her any promises. I wasn't even given a chance to talk to her like a reasonable person. End of discussion. Bring her up again and I leave."

I blew their game plan out of the water, they didn't know what to say. I left.

Another month went by and it was time for the rehearsal dinner. I wasn't Ron's best man, but I was a groomsman. Jenny was a late addition bridesmaid. I saw her but didn't approach.

Sarah grabbed me as soon as she saw me.

"Stay close to me tonight, please. Scotty is here, and he's already drinking. I have no interest in a repeat performance. His lovemaking skills are a LITTLE lacking if you know what I mean, and I have a pretty good basis for comparison. His biggest asset is the size of his brags. That might be why his wife left him."

"Hook up with me tonight, stud, protect the fair damsel from unwanted advances. I would be very grateful later."

She giggled as I gave her my arm. We both know nothing was going to happen.

"Too bad about Scotty" she said "The score keeps changing. Last count, Scotty joined Jenny in the ranks of previously married. The only ones left unmarried are you and Ron, and Ron is on the short list, and that just leaves you. A lot of the girls newly single have you in their sights."

She frowned, thinking.

"Say, didn't you and Jenny date when she first came back? What happened there?"

My turn to frown.

"I don't know. We dated three times and I thought we were getting along famously, and then I had to go out of town. She was like a totally different person when I got back, acting like I should apologize to her. I think she got it in her head I had found someone better, and turned into bitchzilla. I haven't talked to her in a month."

"Where did you go?"

I laughed.

"Sarah honey, don't make me put on a Bud hat and get out my Red Man. You know where I go once a month."

My old man was a factory worker and a part time farmer. He had fifty acres he had inherited from his grandfather. Between the job and the farm, mom didn't have to work, and we had a good life. He raised three kids, and if we didn't always get what we wanted, we always got what we needed. He taught us early if we wanted something, go out and earn it rather than waiting for someone to give it to you. A lesson I valued more the older I got.

We were all grown, Jimmy was seventeen, when my mom got killed when a train derailed at a crossing. Mom wasn't even the first in line, the coal car rolled over four vehicles waiting to cross the tracks.

It nearly killed my dad. They had married when she was sixteen and her parents had to sign for her. He often bragged that his best accomplishment was not spending a night apart. Not once. Thirty three years spent in the same bed with the woman he loved. He almost died from grief.

He moped around for almost a year. Jimmy graduated and had joined the Navy. He read that people alone often led fuller lives if they had something to take care of, and he bought a bluetick hound pup from a friend of his.

Dad took to the pup right away. He got into coon hunting, big time. He took some of the insurance money and built a few kennels and started breeding coonhounds. He learned how to train and run them. He spent many weekend nights perfecting his techniques.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when he called and asked me to help him get a computer. By then I had graduated and had a decent job. I had a friend in IT build him a nice package, took it home, hooked everything up, gave him basic lessons and showed him how to use email. When I left that afternoon, he was pecking away with two fingers, having a ball.

Following his belief that if you were going to do something, do it the best you can, he signed up at the community college and took a course.

Soon he had his own website. His reputation was solidified when two of his dogs were named Grand Champions in different classes the same year.

I was shocked when I found out how valuable those dogs were, and how much money he was making. He retired from his factory job, farmed a little, and concentrated on raising his champions.

To get to Grand Champion, you start out local, go to district, then state, then region, then national. To qualify for all this you through the trials. Dad was doing fine until he tripped one night during a trial, and broke his leg in two places. It healed, but couldn't stand up to an all night hunt or the stress of competition.

That's where Jimmy and I came in. He would train the dogs and we would handle them at trials. In the spring and summer, when the preliminary trials were held, Jimmy would handle one weekend, and two weeks later I took a turn. At the national events, Jimmy and I would both attend, and take turns handling the dogs. A lot of bullshit, dog trading, and drinking took place, but we left that to the old man.

Sarah found out and thought the whole thing was hilarious, and insisted on coming. One time cured her. It was all about dogs, dogs, and anything related to dogs. There was no nightlife because it was spent in the woods with the dogs. The women there usually looked like the men, jeans and ball caps. She was almost screaming in boredom in two days. She almost screwed one of the judges[she said he looked the cleanest, just to have something to do]. When we got home, she kissed me, told me never again, and went out to do her own version of hunting. I pity the one she caught.

"You still do that shit?"

"Yes, Sarah, but we're training one of my sisters' boys, so I should be able to stop in a year or so. Dad has three Grand Champion bitches that he breeds, and one Champion male that covers twenty five bitches a year. Dad is making more money than I am."

Sarah looked odd, probably thinking about getting 'covered' twenty five times.

"So who was the bitch, and I mean that literally, that you were out with the weekend Jenny freaked?"

"Her name is Amanda Lee the fourth. He likes to name them in honor of my mom. I wonder if she'd let him if she was still alive?"

My dad had become her drinking buddy the weekend she went with me.

"I think she would. You know he still shows pictures of her at the trials?"

She got that glint in her eye that meant trouble.

"Say, do you have any pictures of your dad's dogs?"

I had a magazine that showed me with two of them. Both the Grand Champions in their class, naming me as handler and my dad as owner/trainer, and the dates. Dad had sent it to me that day. Most of my friends wouldn't recognize me. I had on Carhartts, a cap sporting his kennel logo, and a two day growth of beard. I told her about it. It was still in my car.

"Keys" she said, holding out her hand.

"Sarah, you're not gonna do anything embarrassing, are you?"

"Not to you, but I'm gonna make sure Jenny sees it, just so she knows."

I tried to talk her out of it, but let her do it at the end, just so I could hear what Jenny said.

She took her time waiting for just the right moment. Jenny, Sarah, and a few more of the wives and girlfriends were clustered, talking about the wedding, their own weddings, their husbands, boyfriends, etc. Girl talk.

At just the right moment, Sarah dropped the bomb.

"Jenny, are you still seeing Sammy?"

She said her face went tight for a second.

"No, that's over. I thought things were going well, when he went out of town to see another woman. My ex can attest that I'm not much on sharing."

"Wow, I didn't know you guys were serious. But you're right, I remember that weekend. It wasn't one female, it was two, and he was out all night with them twice. I even have pictures."

She whipped out the magazine. She had the page memorized, and showed the girls. Afterwards, she said she wished she'd had a camera, not just for Jenny, but the whole group. Most had never seen me out a suit or casual dress, I rarely wore jeans unless I was at home.

The magazine went around the room, and then the jokes began.

One of the bridesmaids asked if it was true I really knew how to handle bitches.

"Sure, keep them on a tight leash and whip the shit out of them occasionally, and they generally do what you tell them. Need lessons?"

She ran away, screaming in laughter.

Thew guys were even raunchier. Everyone had something to say but Jenny. She wouldn't even look me in the eye.

As luck, or scheming women would have it, I was matched to Jenny at the wedding. I kept the conversation light and pleasant during the reception. I looked around the room. Except for maybe Sarah, Jenny was the prettiest woman in the room. Tall at five nine, she was slender where she needed to be, and curvy everywhere else. Her long red hair had blond highlights that I knew were natural, Pouty lips, almost perfect. A fine looking woman. Sarah, in contrast, was a classic blond with breasts that would have been average on anyone else, but looked huge on her tiny frame. Liquid blue eyes and a really nice butt. I had a stray thought of all of us rolling around in my bed, and grinned.

We were in the middle of a nice, slow dance, when she pulled back enough to look me in the eye.

"Say it."

"Sat what, Jen?"

"That I'm a psychotic bitch with poor communication skills and very little brains."

I stopped in the middle of the floor.

"Now why would I say a hurtful thing like that to you? To be honest, I'm afraid to say anything to you. I don't know how you'd react. Now, I kind of like feeling you snuggled up to me, can we finish the dance without talking?"

She scooted up to me so hard I thought she was trying to pass through me.

"Yes, but we're gonna talk, tomorrow. I'll call."

She didn't call, she showed up at my house the next afternoon.

"Got any wine?" she asked, as she breezed by me when I opened the door. I watched as she settled into my couch. She looked around. "Why does a bachelor need with a three bedroom house, anyway?"

I got a bottle of my favorite out and looked through my silverware for the corkscrew.

"I don't plan on being a bachelor forever. I figure I'll need those bedrooms, somewhere down the line."

She smiled as she accepted the glass.

"I forgot, you're like the Communists, always got a five year plan."

I shrugged.

"Probably the best idea they ever had."

I didn't say anymore. This was her show.

"Hear me out, please. I had a hard time getting over the divorce. I even had to take pills, one to calm me down, and one to get me going. If I mixed them, my emotions were everywhere."

"I really like you, Sam, I always have. It was great to date you when I first came back. I had always harbored feelings for you. In my mind, you were perfect for me. I had already made up my mind I was going to screw your brains out that weekend. When you said you had to go out of town, and females were involved, I lost it. It was like my ex all over again. I should have let you finish when I called you. I should have called you back and apologized. But I didn't."

"I'm truly sorry, more than you know. I still want to be your friend, and just so you know, I'm off the pills, come to find out[surprise, surprise]they weren't considered a good mix. End of groveling, waiting for forgiveness."

I looked at her.

"wow, spaced out on pills! I always thought you were the most level headed person I knew. Never can tell, I guess. Give me a hug, you stoner."

She didn't know whether to be insulted or take it as a joke, but in the end she smiled and hugged me. Then, we were off as always, arguing the merits and drawbacks of living in a society that had a pill for every condition known to man, and a few for anything else they could come up with. It felt good.

She didn't ask about getting together again, and I didn't mention it. Two weeks went by when she called me.

"Pill head here. Freeman Feelbad Jr. and Sweet Thang are at the blues club this weekend. Wanna go?"

I loved the blues, and had read great things about the duo, so of course I went.

After that we fell into a pattern. I would call her or she would call me, and we spent most of our weekends together. On the weekend I was gone, she went out and did girl stuff, I guess.

I had lunch with Sarah and she was gushing.

"You can thank me now."

"Thank you for what?"

"Getting you and Jen back together. I got a question, though. When are you gonna break down and bang her? We had a girls night out last weekend, went and saw male strippers. She's about to explode, waiting on you. She told me she had killed two sets of batteries since you started dating again."

"Huh?"

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Bang her, you idiot. Shes so ready if you rubbed her legs I'm sure they would fly open. She wants YOU, dumbass. Get with the program unless you don't want her. If that's the case, let her down easy. What do you coon hunters say? Oh yeah, 'the bullshit stops when the tailgate drops'. Let your dogs loose, boy!"

I reflected after the lunch. We hadn't been intimate since we started seeing each other again.

The next Friday night, we went to a light meal and a movie. I brought her home instead of dropping her off at her mom's house. She had been looking for an apartment but kept telling me she liked houses better, she just couldn't afford one right now.

"What are we doing here?"

I answered her truthfully.

"I'm not sure. Good things, I hope."

Then I leaned over and kissed her, hard. We didn't get out of the car for thirty minutes. If my neighbors had looked across the street and into my garage they would have been treated to Jen sliding out of the car, wearing a black skirt and nothing else. If they would have had their windows open they would have heard her telling me to forget the damn clothes and unlock the door. If they had looked closely they would have seen me struggling to get my pants off, and lose my balance as I fell out of the car.

Maybe they would have heard her scream as I yanked her skirt off, showing off her bare bottom, the panties discovered later hanging off my rear view mirror.

I had her on the couch, with my tongue in her slit before she knew what was going on. She liked the smooth look, and she apologized the next day for being so rough, if she had known we were going to be intimate she would have shaved that day. It was a bit rough on my cheeks, but at the time I wanted her so bad I'd have stuck my tongue through barbed wire to get to that little honeypot. I worked her over with fingers and tongue until she had two orgasms, the first screaming, the second whimpering.

I finally let her pull me up. She jammed her lips on to mine for a few seconds, reaching down to grab the titanium bar my dick had turned into, guiding it into her.

"Don't be gentle!" she hissed, "We'll make love later. Right now I need you to fuck the shit out of me!"

I slammed into her so hard her stubble felt like little needles on my skin. I knocked her off the couch and she ended up on top of me, pounding up and down as hard as she could. I grabbed a nipple and twisted, and she came on the spot. We rolled over again and ended up with her torso supported by the couch while I thrust into her from behind.

I'd like to say it went on for hours, but it was only ten minutes at the most. I collapsed on top her as she had her last orgasm. I had come so hard it felt like the first two inches of my dick had blown off. We lay there gasping for a few minutes before I pulled her up and dragged her to the bedroom.

We snuggled under the sheets vowing to do great things to each other, but ended up dozing off. She woke me two hours later, stroking my hard dick until she deemed me ready, then lay back and pulled me to her.