Heartache Tonight

by StangStar06

Copyright© 2016 by StangStar06

Sex Story: I went into that bar knowing what I would find. But what I came out with changed my life for the better.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Tear Jerker   Cheating   Slut Wife   Revenge   .

Hi Folks. First off, Thanks to all of the people who emailed me about my absence. It wasn't actually planned. But during the time that I didn't have the services Of a legendary editor, I started trying to finish the book I've been working on. And I sort of worked on it until it was finished. But to start us out again I wanted to write something that was more about feelings than most of my stories. I wanted to write something like Barney-R or Hermit or Jake Rivers would write. And while not quite up to their standards, this is a fairly decent stab. As always, if you don't like this one the next one will be different. Thanks to every one who reads it. And thanks of course to Barney-R for eiditing it with his usual wizardry. SS06

A day of destiny; that's what they call it when you experience an event that changes your life forever. Somehow I never expected mine to be in a crummy bar at the edge of the town I lived in.

I'd never been in the place before, but I knew of it. I think everybody in town knew about it. It was one of those places that nice people didn't visit. It was famous for whores, liquor, sluts, gambling, and skanks.

I felt dirty just stepping into the place, but it was necessary. It wasn't that I thought I was above things like that. During my college days, I'd been quite the hell-raiser. But my parent's deaths had burned all of that out of me and made me take my life and my future a bit more seriously.

There had been things I wanted to do with my life ... And none of them had anything to do with running the family's sprawling acreage. But I had two younger sisters who had just entered college and in the absence of our parents, the responsibility for keeping the family afloat fell to me.

So like my father and his father before him, I became a rancher. And strangely enough, I was good at it. Better, in fact, than my father, or my grandfather ever was. I was the first in three generations to do more than scratch a living out of the dirt we'd put our blood, sweat and tears into.

I had modernized our operations to the point that several very exclusive buyers were willing to pay very dearly for my beef. I also had a few large chain stores that paid through the nose for my lesser grades just for the name and my brand.

Ranching is hard work, even on an executive level. But I modernized the old place to the max. I'd built a new main house that was luxurious and well appointed. It had a pool and a spa and all the comforts of any California Mansion.

And I had filled the place with the one thing I needed to ensure that future generations would be able to keep things going. Yep I had married the prettiest girl in town.

Over the years, I had put some work into her as well. Nothing that I thought she needed, but women are crazy. Sally is a beautiful woman. The good lord saw fit to give her a slim and sexy body, beautiful natural blond hair and the bluest eyes that anyone would ever see.

But Sally has never been happy with what she has. She always wants more. So after a few years of her being jealous and miserable about what the good lord had forgotten, I got her a set of store-bought titties that no man could take his eyes off of.

They were much bigger than I thought they'd be and to tell the truth, after the surgery, I found myself wishing that we hadn't done it. But I felt the same way about her car. Sally drives a pussy pink BMW convertible that I have never set foot in.

But that to me is fine. Sally hates my Mustang as much as I hate her car. She says that it's too loud and too brutish for her. I can't stomach the thought of her smoking her shitty smelling cigarettes in my car, so I've never let her in it. I bought her the BMW to protect my Mustang.

I guess over the years I've doted on Sally. Maybe it was remembering all of the stories my Mom used to tell me about how she and my father hadn't gotten along at first. They were both strong-willed and neither wanted to give any ground. But in the end, they loved each other so much that they found a way to make things work.

In the end, they raised three kids and were very happy together. Even when my sisters and I were grown, I can still remember the way my mom smiled every time my dad came into the room.

My mom and dad never had the kind of money that Sally and I have, but they had something much more important. I guess I always thought that like my mom said, falling in love takes time. There's usually a spark or an attraction from the very beginning, but it takes some time for it to become love.

Of course, my dad swears that she loved him from the first second that she saw him and started following him around like a puppy dog. I didn't care who was right. All I wanted was for Sally to look at me the way my mom looked at my dad.

I also wanted a house full of kids, but Sally and I are nearing thirty, and we don't have any kids yet. She claims that we need a few years to get to know each other and just enjoy each other before we start having kids.

I always thought that she was wrong about that, but I let her have her way. Lately, I've begun to realize that maybe she was right. In a lot of ways, I'm glad that we never had kids.

One of the things that made me feel that way was catching her smiling at me out of the corner of my eye. Even after all the years of hoping to see that woman smiling at me; it kind of hurt to see it.

I know it sounds like I was getting just what I wanted and was unsatisfied with it ... much like Sally and her natural titties, but this was different.

You see the woman I loved had smiled when she saw me, but it wasn't the kind of smile my mom got when she saw my dad. Mom's smile was pure happiness at seeing the man she loved. It spoke of being proud of the man he was and the family they had made together. It was the remembrance of shared struggles and genuine love.

Sally's smile was something different. I'd seen that same smile on beef buyers when they thought they'd put one over on me. It was a smile that told me the bitch was laughing at me.

It had gotten my hackles up enough for me to flip the script. And the things I found out weren't pretty. My PIs were good. They were quick and their discretion was without par. But I loved the silly bitch. I had ever since I first pulled her hair in Sunday school.

So I needed to see it for myself. No, I'm not a sadist. But for two reasons, I needed to put my own eyeballs on it. The first ... Like I said I loved her. So I had to give her the benefit of the doubt. If my marriage was going down in flames, the reasons for it had to be genuine. No he-said-she-said or misunderstandings.

And the second reason was even more important. Once again, I loved the bitch. So for my own sanity ... For my ability to walk away from her and never look back, I needed to burn all of the love I'd built up for her over the years out of my heart.

The best way to do that was to see it in person with my own eyes. It would be even better to have other people around when it happened. That way, there would be the added weight of personal pride on the line.

So with poor Sally thinking she was free and clear to do what she did since I was "out of town on business," I sat back to watch the end of my marriage play out in real time from the front row.

The bar had several of what they called VIP booths. They were shaded corner alcoves that were hidden behind mirrored glass walls. The idea was that you could see everything that went on in the bar, but no one could see you.

Since some of the waitresses and all the dancers who worked at the bar hooked on the side, the VIP rooms were a lucrative sideline for both the owner and the girls. The owner made money from the cost of being in a VIP booth. The girls made theirs from what went on inside of them.

As I looked around the bar, I could see that I was early. I hadn't driven my Mustang. Seeing it outside of the bar would have scared Sally off.

The band was beginning to warm up as I sat down in my booth. Their smooth blended voices sent chills up my spine. Part of it was the uncanny accuracy of their rendition of one of my favorite old songs. The rest was how fitting their song choice was considering the situation.

"Somebody's gonna hurt someone, before the night is through.

Somebody's gonna come undone, there's nothing we can do.


"Not so hard, baby," I mumbled to the man mauling my tits. I have noticed lately that if you squeezed or rubbed them too hard in certain spots, it was painful. My doctor, jealous bitch that she was told me that it was the implant moving against my actual breast tissue.

She always wanted me to have them removed. Her boobs were bigger than mine. But hers were natural. Of course, she outweighed me by fifty pounds, so they didn't seem to be as big as they were.

"Billy Bob, you like my tits don't you?"I asked. He stopped rolling his tongue around my nipple just long enough to nod.

"You don't care that they're not real?" I asked. That stopped him in his tracks. He even stopped ramming his dick in me.

"They feel real to me, what do you mean?" he asked. Then suddenly he pulled his dick out of me. There was a look of concern written all over his face.

"Is this a catfish?" he asked angrily. "Are you a man?"

It was my turn to get pissed then. "Are you stupid?" I hissed. "That's a pussy you've been stabbing your dick into for the last two hours. I'm also married, you idiot. What I meant was that my boobs have implants to make them bigger."

"Oh so it's kind of like steroids... ?" he gushed. "The guys in school who couldn't grow bigger muscles by lifting weights stuck a needle in their ass and pumped themselves up with drugs. Then they got to be as big as a fuckin' house. Never heard a no titty steroids before this."

I just looked at him. Despite the fact that he was only three years younger than my husband Rick and I, Billy Bob seemed to be a child. My husband was more of a grown up as a teenager than Billy Bob would ever be.

Maybe that was the attraction. Unlike Rick, who was always serious, always worried about our finances and the ranch, Billy Bob was fun. Everybody needs a little bit of fun now and then.

When I married Rick, I never expected to be put on a shelf before I was thirty. Sometimes Rick acted like we were ready for retirement. He has no idea how good we have it. We should be traveling around the world and seeing things. We have more money than anyone we know, but all he does is worry.

He should look at the way all of his friends look at me when we're in town. He has no idea how lucky he is to have me. Most of the women we went to school with have already destroyed their bodies by having kids. On the other hand, I am hotter now than I was in high school.

If Rick doesn't play his cards right, I might find someone like Billy Bob to have as more than a once in a while distraction to play with in a motel fifty miles away from home.

The thought of it made me laugh. I wasn't stupid. Rick bought me anything I asked for without question. Rick loved me more than anything else in the world. Billy Bob was a toy, nothing more. That was why I was always careful only to go to places where the people Rick knew, would never go.

"We did it backwards this time," Billy Bob gushed. I had no idea what he was talking about. We often had sex doggy style.

"We always go to the bar and get drunk first, and then we fuck," he said. "This time we fucked first."

"You didn't like it?" I asked. He looked confused.

"What will we do after we get drunk?" he asked.

"We'll fuck some more, baby!" I told him. That seemed to bring a smile to his face.

"Could I bring a couple of friends?" he asked, smiling. I was floored. I knew that my relationship with Billy Bob was over. He was such a moron. Didn't he understand how special I was? He was treating me like some whore. Did he think that he could pass me around to his friends, and gang bang me like some cheap redneck floozy?

It was a shame though. He certainly was cute.

"Let's take a shower and get out of here," I said.

He sniffed under one arm. "I'm good," he said. "But you go ahead."

I looked at my watch and realized that I had barely enough time to get ready. I needed to be in the bar at a certain time. Not that I was looking for anyone or anything, in particular, but I needed to make an entrance. That was what this was all about.

I could get sex from my husband just by twitching my little finger. What I needed was the excitement and the thrill of having everyone staring at me and wondering who I was. I needed to dance and flaunt my body before Rick ruined it by pumping me full of kids.

I needed to have eyes crawling over my body. I needed for every man in the place to want me and every woman to hate my fucking guts while deep inside, they all wanted to be me.

As the warm water cascaded over me, I realized that I left my un-scented shower gel in my bag. I hated using scented soaps because they often clashed with my perfume.

Leaving the shower, I heard Billy Bob's voice.

"Hottest bitch you've ever seen," he said. "She's gonna fuck all of us. Yeah just like all of the rest of 'em. We'll have her pulling the train."

I slipped back into the bathroom. I was pissed. Mr. Billy Bob Walker was going to get a lesson tonight. Someone would be pulling something tonight, but it wouldn't be me."

The dress I got myself into would make my husband pop a blood vessel if I wore it in public. He'd pop something else if I wore it for him in private. Maybe I'd do just that when he got back from his latest excursion. He traveled a couple of times a month selling his beef in cities all over the country and sometimes out of it.

At that moment, I had to admit that I missed him. Even though he was no fun, he loved me, and he had never treated me like a whore.

"Ho Boy, they're gonna shit bricks when they see you in that dress," said Billy Bob when he saw me. He jumped across the room and ran his hands over the silky material.

And then it happened. For months whenever I called, Billy Bob had become used to being able to fuck me any way he wanted and do anything he wanted to me. But suddenly just the touch of his hands on my ass, felt wrong.

"We'd better get going," I said stiffly.


I was getting antsy. I'd been sitting in this cesspool for nearly four hours and hadn't caught sight of Sally. There was a voice in my head telling me that maybe I had misjudged my wife. I was sitting here in a crummy bar getting hit on by all kinds of drug addled and alcoholic strippers with barely disguised lust for what I had ... My wallet! Why the fuck was I here?

That was an easy one. I was here because I'd gotten a phone call several weeks ago from a woman who told me I should keep my wife at home and out of her bar. She hadn't left her name or the name of the bar, but I would never forget that voice. It was one of those breathy Marilyn Monroe type voices.

It wasn't just the voice; it was the matter of fact, almost angry delivery that chilled me to my core. Before that I'd never had any type of suspicion that everything wasn't pure heaven in my marriage. I didn't want to get Sally pissed over nothing, but I had the feeling that something was going on. Added to her looking at me and laughing had only verified my suspicions enough to make me act.

One of the things that suddenly stood out was the recent changes in Sally's actions in one small area. When we were first married, Sally demanded to go with me on all of my business trips. Once she'd gone on a few, she was bored out of her mind and only went with me to places like New York or LA where she could have fun shopping. A year or two after that she started demanding that not only did she not want to go, but she didn't want me going either.

Lately, she hasn't cared and seemed almost excited to have me leave. I hired the PI firm soon after that. The information I got from them, including photos, names dates and even a crystal clear video told me that my marriage was over. THAT was why I was here. The words of that great American statesman, David Lee Roth in his epic song Mean Streets told the tale of the end of my marriage. "It's all over but the shouting; I come ta take what's mine."

I was here for the shouting. I was here to confront the bitch in her lair and let her know that I wasn't quite the fool she thought I was.

"Hey cowboy, ya want..." The voice was as smooth as honey, and very practiced. Although different from the others before her, it hinted at the same things. I cut her off before she finished.

"No, I don't want a lap dance or a blowjob," I hissed. "I don't want to see your boobs; I just want to be left alone."

As I finished my micro-rant, our eyes met; something in her gaze told me that I'd made a mistake and a big one.

"Oo ... kay," she said after taking a very long breath to calm herself down. "Let's start again. I am not one of the strippers. I do not and will not remove any items of clothing regardless of how much money you offer me. I will not be offering any type of sexual favors ... Again regardless of any amount of money offered. My name is not mama-san or Kimi or any of those stereotypical Asian nicknames so please refrain from using them on me.

I will not be offering to "love you long time." She made the quotations marks in the air with her fingers as she said that part. "In short, Cowboy, you paid for a VIP booth. It comes with its own waitress. I am that waitress, but you can always request a different one."

"So why do you get to call me 'Cowboy, ' after giving me a litany of things that I'm not allowed to call you?" I asked.

"Because, Cowboy, isn't demeaning ... It isn't racist ... And it describes you to a T," she said. "You couldn't look more like the Marlboro man if you rode in here on a horse. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure you normally do ride a horse ... Don't you?"

I looked at my feet. "One way or another," I said.

"So what can I call you, Ma'am?" I asked bringing a huge smile to her lips.

"My friends call me CK," she said. Before I could say anything, she clarified it.

"I said CK," she told me, "as in the letters 'C, ' and 'K, ' not like Suki or any of those names. My name is Carolyn Kudasawa."

"So CK," I said. "How is it that you look so..."

"Asian," she finished for me.

"Exactly," I said. "But sound like a..."

"Hillbilly..." She finished again. "I was born in Mississippi."

Before our conversation went any further, a woman pushed herself into my booth. She was tall and thin with huge boobs and obviously bleached blond hair. She looked like a piece of fruit that was grown on the same rotten ass tree as my wife.

They had the same big fake boobs and the same thin tiny ass and legs. They also had the same hair color and the same abundance of make-up. The difference was that this woman had a weird breathy voice that had lured me into checking up on Sally, and now I knew why.

Seeing her standing next to CK was like a study in extremes. The woman was nearly six feet tall, and CK was closer to five feet even. CK had barely any make-up on and didn't need it. CK's boobs were average if that, but the way they moved under her tight top was mouth watering. CK had a wide, rounded ass that filled out her skirt. The other woman, like my wife, had almost no ass.

"CK, I'll handle it from here," said the woman.

"That's okay," I said. "We're doing fine."

"But don't you want..." she began.

"I said we were fine," I snapped. She left, angrily.

The expression on CK's face was priceless. She was just about to say something when the door to the bar opened, and my whore of a wife floated in with two or three fake cowboys in tow. One of them, I thought I recognized.

CK whipped her head around and more than three feet of silky black hair fluttered and then settled back on her shoulders. She caught sight of Sally and then turned back to me.

"You should probably stay away from that one," she smirked. "She's probably got more diseases than the strippers. At least, they do it for the money. That bitch gives it away for free."

"I wish I could stay away from her," I said sadly.

"She's got you wrapped up too, huh?" she asked. "Somehow, I thought you were different."

"She's the reason I came here," I said. "I need to get myself unwrapped."

She shook her head as she looked at me. "If you want some of her that badly, it won't be hard for you to get her. So instead if getting yourself unwrapped, maybe you should just go ahead and get yourself a piece and get her out of your system." She shook her head again and started to walk away. But then she turned back, and the Kat was in her eyes.

"You know her hair is bleached and her boobs are fake, don't you?" she hissed.

I reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Of course, I do," I said.

"Then what is it?" she asked angrily. "What makes her so God damned attractive?"

"She's not that attractive ... At least not anymore," I said. "I think what it is ... I think that men just flow towards a woman who's sending out the signals that she's really available."

"And they follow her around like dogs after a bitch in heat," she hissed? "So if you know that why are you... ?"

"It's not what you think," I said.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I already told you, I needed to get myself unwrapped," I said. "I'm the idiot who paid for the bleach. I'm the dog that bought the fake boobs. She's supposed to be my bitch in heat for ME. But someone with a voice that sounds like her stripper clone called me and alerted me to what goes on when I'm out of town on business."

Her eyes were suddenly as big as saucers. "So you're here for a showdown?" she asked.

Just as she said it the band began to play.

"Everybody wants to touch someone. If it takes all night.

Everybody wants to take a little chance, make it come out right."

As I watched, the action at the center of the bar heated up. There were several young men grabbing my wife and groping her while she laughed and pretended to fend them off. I noticed that she never seemed to actually swing at them until they'd gotten what they wanted though.

The dress she was almost wearing was so low cut that after a while one of her boobs was thrusting out of it. I say thrusting because her fake boobs defied gravity. I was getting angrier by the second. And then I noticed that Sally's legs were spread wide open and there was a hand between them.

One of the guys let out a yell and started swinging some flossy item that I believe was Sally's panties in the air. And all the time, Sally just sat there smiling and pretending that it was out of her control. She looked around at the other women in the room, most of whom worked there and got paid for doing much less. It was like some kind of "Who's the biggest whore," contest and Sally was winning.

"CK, send a pitcher of beer to that table," I said. She looked at me like I was crazy. Then seeing the look in my eyes, she did it. I watched as she went to the bar and spoke with the man there.

Then she carried a pitcher of beer over to Sally's table. CK has an incredible ass, and I watched it all the way across the room. As she put the pitcher down on the table, the kid next to Sally started talking to her. She pointed at my VIP booth, and he looked across the room at me. He couldn't see into the booth, but he gave me the thumbs-up sign.

CK walked back to my booth, avoiding drunks and guys who tried to grope her, all the way. I began to wonder why she did it.

"The asshole that's screwing your wife, or at least the one who brought her, invited you to join the party," she laughed. Her laugh faded as I got up.

"You're not going over there are you?" she asked in shock. "There's four of them..."

I stood up, to her horror as the band behind us launched into the chorus.

"There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight, I know.

There's gonna be a heartache tonight, I know. Lord, I know."

Most of the people dancing, drinking and doing what people do in places like that took no notice of me as I walked towards one of the cheap tables at the center of the room.

The tables there though nicely decorated were far flimsier and less expensive. The reason for that is that the tables in the "Look at me section of the room" were damaged far more often or were moved around as impromptu parties spring up.

Three of the four guys at the table paid me no attention as I sat down, directly across from Sally and her man. There was another guy, the one who had Sally's panties sitting at her right with Will on her left. The other two guys sat, one each, on the other ends of the small square table.

As I sat down Will's face turned as white as snow. He looked all over the room as if he needed a hole to climb down into. Sally's mouth dropped open on surprise, but words refused to come out.

"I'm gonna pull that other titty out to see if it's as big as this one," smirked the guy beside Sally.

She grabbed his hand as he reached for her. "No!" she said firmly, "Don't touch me."

"You haven't stopped him at any point before now," I said. "Aren't those YOUR panties he's holding?"

"Honey, you ... You don't understand," she said, stupidly.

"Explain it to me, then," I said.

"I ... I ... You ... We..." She babbled. Even as she looked for words and the man next to her turned green, I reached across the table and grabbed her purse. It was a small beaded clutch type purse. I took out two keys and gave her the purse back.

"Did she call you, Honey," asked one of the guys at the table.

"I used to be her husband," I explained.

"Why did you take my keys," asked Sally.

"Because I don't want you to have access to MY House," I said. "You know that house has been in my family for three generations. According to our pre-nup, you have absolutely no claim on the house or the ranch, regardless of how long or short our marriage is. The only way you could have gotten the house would have been if we stayed married, and I died before you."

"Rick, look, I screwed up. I screwed up badly, but I don't think it's bad enough to throw our marriage away," she said softly.

"Well that makes one of us," I said.

"Honey, I got bored. You're always going out of town. I came into town for a drink, and things got out of hand. I was a little bit too tipsy to..." She began.

"Sally, quit while you're behind," I snapped. "I hired a good PI firm. They've been on you and William for weeks."

"Who is William?" she asked.

"The asshole you came in here with," I sneered. "William Robert Walker Junior."

"He told me his name was Billy Bob," she said. "But he doesn't matter. He was a mistake. I was done with him anyway. We can fix this, baby."

"Sally, we can't fix this," I said. "There's no chance of us getting back together. The two of you deserve each other."

Billy Bob began inching away from the table. "Where do you think you're going?" I yelled.

"Look, Rick, I'm going to let you, and your wife settle things. It's none of my business," he said. I pushed him back into his chair and sat back down myself.

"There's nothing to settle Junior. She's yours now," I said. "Before this no one has ever taken anything from me in my life. But I really did love her. So, I guess I'll have a heartache tonight, and you have an ass kicking coming.

"For what," he sputtered. "It ain't my fault that you can't control your whore."

"Yeah but you know who I am, and you know she was married to me," I told him.

"I don't care who she was married, to" he said. "I just liked having my dick sucked. And there's no need to beat around the bushes. I was tired of fucking her. Tonight was going to be the last time. That was why I brought a few of my friends along. She was gonna fuck all of us. And when you get down to it, there was no way I'd ever touch any woman that did that, ever again. So let's just call it a night, and everybody go home before my friends, and I have to take you out to the parking lot and hurt you."

The band continued to play behind us. The lead singer seemed to be singing to us.

"We can beat around the bushes; we can get down to the bone.

We can leave it in the parkin' lot, but either way,

There's gonna be a heartache tonight, a heartache tonight I know."

Billy Bob's words had encouraged him. He was so full of himself that he got a smirk on his face. That was when I slapped him. I didn't punch him like you punch another man. I slapped the cowboy shit out of him, like I was a pimp from the seventies, and he was MY whore. He looked at me like he was about to cry.

That was when everything got interesting. Two of his friends, the one with Sally's panties, and the one to my left ran out of the place so quickly it was incredible. It was like watching the Flash on TV. The only difference was that the flash has a red blur all over his body. They seemed to have brown streaks up the back of their pants. The one to my right stepped back out of my sight.

I heard a scream, "Gun, cowboy," at the same time, a bang was heard under the table. A hole appeared in the table top, just as I felt pain in my left arm. I jumped up and flipped the cheap table straight into Will's face knocking him over. I jumped onto the table that was on top of him, pinning his arms and started pounding his face. I punched him over and over until I heard something crack, and my hands were sore.

I got a sudden urge to duck, but before I could, there was a high-pitched scream behind me and Will's friend, the sneaky one who'd stepped back out of my sight, dropped to the floor near me. He was writhing and holding his nuts, while screaming in pain. I turned to find out what the hell had happened, but before I could do anything, the sound of a shotgun being racked stopped everyone in their tracks.

I turned around and saw Tom Dooley, the local Sherriff, and a couple of his deputies standing there looking pissed.

"Rick, what the hell is going on here?" he asked me. "Why did you beat the fuck out of Will Junior?"

"He wants to be called Billy-Bob," I said. "He thinks he's a cowboy."

"He could a been," smirked the Sherriff. "His daddy's ranch is about half the size a yours, so it's a pretty big place. But he's as lazy as they come. Ain't good for shit, according to his pa."

"Well he was good for messing around with other men's wives," I said. "And he tried to shoot me through the table." I stepped back, and Tom lifted the table off of Billy-Bob. Sally could free herself too.

Tom found the small derringer type gun that Billy-Bob had fired through the table.

"What happened to him?" he asked pointing at the guy, still writhing in the floor.

"That bitch kicked me in the clock weights," moaned Billy-Bob's sneaky friend. He was pointing at CK.

"Miss, why did you kick this man in the behoogies," asked Tom.

"He was about to club Rick in the back of the head," she said. "So I..."

"Got yourself fired," said Porter Cable, the owner of the bar. "What is the one thing I tell everyone who works here? If some shit gits started or a fight breaks out, stay the fuck out of it. You knew that, Carolyn. And you chose to ignore it so you're fired."

Her face showed her surprise. Then her bottom lip stiffened, and she actually smiled. "Fuck you Porter," she hissed.

"You're the only woman around here that ain't tried," he smirked. "Pick up your check on your way out. And have the rest of your shit out of here by the end of the week."

"Isn't that a bit harsh," asked the Sherriff as CK walked away.

"Nope," said Porter. "I get eight or ten big fights a week in here. You already know that. If my people get hurt or implicated in someone else getting hurt, I get sued. My insurance company set the rules; I have to follow them, or I lose my insurance. My rates are already sky high."

I spent the next few minutes telling Rick my side of what happened. He left to confer with his deputies and several witnesses, some of whom had heard what was said between Will and me.

When he came back he shook his head. "Rick, you need to go and get that arm looked at. This is a hell of a mess. The witnesses all agree that your wife was here acting like a whore and that was what started all of this mess," he said.

Sally started crying then. "I just wanted to have some fun," she wailed.

"I guess you found out somehow and showed up. They all say that you came in and sat down at their table. The witnesses agree that you were calm and soft spoken. They pretty much agree that you scared the shit out of Willie-Boy and he started yelling about having his dick sucked by your wife. Some of them heard that, an others couldn't make it out. But they all heard him threaten that him, and his friends would take you out to the parking lot and hurt you." He shook his head.

"That was apparently when you slapped Little Willie," he said. "So I guess you were insulted by what was going on with your wife, and by his threats so you had to retaliate but Rick, you threw the first blow."

I nodded. "But then he tried to shoot you from under the table. That is the most cowardly thing I've ever heard of. So you went caveman on him and started beating the shit out of him. Meanwhile, his one remaining friend tried to sneak up and bushwhack you from behind," he said. I just nodded.

As things wound down, the adrenaline surge that had been fueling me began to wear off. My arm stung like hell, and the reality of the situation began to affect me.

"There are going to be lots of charges and counter-charges to file around here," he said. "So until we figure out what's what and who's who, I want you and Sally to go home and stay on your property."

"That's not going to work, Tom," I said.

"You'd rather go to jail than your own ranch?" he asked.

"That part is fine," I said. "But the marriage is over, and I don't want her back at my place. You can put her in jail if you want. But the only time I want to see her at my house will be when you and her lawyer come through to remove her personal property."

He nodded at me and then went over to talk to Sally. After a few words passed between them, she came over to me, walking like a whipped dog.

"Rick why can't I come home?" she asked. "I already told you that I screwed up. I never meant for it to go this far. But we can work this out. We can sit down, talk about it, and make some changes so that both of us can be happy. But we need to talk."

"Sally, maybe we got married too young. Maybe neither of us knew what we were getting into. But on the other hand, you knew from the very God damned beginning what I do for a living and how I do it. Your father and my father both did the same thing. But maybe I screwed up too. I loved you too much. I gave you too much. But it's over now. I'm done."

"I'll change," she said. "It won't happen again. I promise. It was only once and..."

"Sally, until you're ready to tell the truth, there's no point in talking. I don't have the time or the patience for any more of your lies."

"Wait, what are you talking about," she whined.

"Did you think I just happened to walk in here tonight and catch you by accident?" I asked her quietly. "I know how long this shit has been going on, and I have the evidence to prove it. We're done, Sally."

"But it was only a fling," she said. "It isn't worth ruining our lives over."

"Sally, you have five or six hundred dollars in your purse. Get a hotel room for the night. Get yourself a lawyer and set up a meeting with my lawyer and me. We can do all the talking you want then."

"But Baby, we can fix this ourselves," she whined. "Remember what your daddy used to say? There's no problem so big that a lawyer can't make it an even bigger mess." He hated lawyers."

"Actually, that was YOUR father," I said. "Now if you can excuse me, my arm is bleeding. Your boyfriend shot me, remember?"

Her face fell and before she could figure out what to say, I was walking towards the door.

As I got outside, the wisdom of not driving my car, revealed itself as being stupid. I had two options. I could walk the several blocks to the small hospital and then call a taxi after they patched me up. Or I could walk the many long blocks to the hospital and then call one of the people who worked on my ranch to pick me up.

"Hey, Cowboy, where are we going," asked a voice behind me.

I turned and saw CK's head sticking out of a blue PT Cruiser.

All I could do was laugh.

"What's so funny," she asked.

"That car," I laughed. "Do you know what PT stands for?" Her face went blank.

"Part Time," I said. "Those things were in the shop more than they were on the road."

"Where's your car," she asked.

"My vehicle is currently at the ranch," I said.

"Exactly how far outside of town is the ranch," she asked.

"Forty seven miles," I said.

"So you should be very careful how you talk to someone who COULD perhaps take you there," she said.

"I guess I should," I told her.

"Get in," she said, looking far more pleased than I would have expected.

"Could we stop at the hospital, first," I asked. She looked at me with worry on her face and took off.

"CK, slow down," I said. "It'll take us even longer to get there, if we get pulled over."

We got to the hospital without further incident. As we sat in the waiting room, she wrapped both of her hands around the bloody area on my sleeve.

"You have to keep pressure on it to help it stop bleeding," she smiled.

A nurse took us into a cubicle at the back. She had me take my shirt off and started to look at my arm.

"Holy shi..." said CK before stopping herself by clamping her hand over her mouth. "Sorry..." she added.

"It's really not that bad," said the nurse.

"It's not bad at all," said CK smirking as she continued staring at me.

"How'd you do this," asked the nurse.

"He didn't do it," said CK. "But you ought to see the other guy."

"Honey, I've seen it all," deadpanned the nurse. "A little while ago they brought in a guy with a fractured jaw and several facial fractures. He had two black eyes and might have a damaged orbit. He also lost two teeth and almost bit through his tongue. He has to talk through clenched teeth because they wired his jaw shut while it heals.

As soon as he's back on his feet, he's going to jail because he shot some..." she stopped talking abruptly and looked at my arm.

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