Chapter 3

Three months had passed since John Watson moved out of their home. He had instituted divorce proceedings as he had promised and now Esther was fighting it tooth and nail, despite his warning that he would expose her infidelity with Moriarty.

John discovered something about himself during this time period. He found that he just couldn't air their dirty laundry, for whatever reason. Was it because of the humiliation he would suffer, or was it that he just didn't want to smear or abase his wife? It didn't really make any difference, whatever the reason, he found that he couldn't go through with his threat.

He was informed by Sherwood Holmes, his attorney and friend, that Esther would continue to contest the divorce unless John would agree to a private conversation with her, with no restrictions as to time. Esther had declared that she at least deserved to be heard. If, at the end of that conversation, John decided to proceed with the divorce, she would cease contesting it.

"That's the bottom line, John," remarked Holmes. "You know Esther, she's a very able attorney and she could drag this thing out for ages. If you want the divorce that badly, sit down and listen to her - it won't kill you."

John sat still in Holmes' office. He wasn't lulled by the rich leathers of the chairs, the dark, walnut paneling or the volumes of law books lining the walls. He turned his head and gazed bleakly for a moment out of the window, seeing the bare limbs of the trees and the gray, overcast sky.

He turned back to Holmes and snapped, "Fuck her. Fuck her and her demands. She wants to fight the divorce? Let her. I just don't give a shit."

Holmes sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Listen, John. We've known each other for a hell of a long time. I'm more than your attorney, I'm your friend also, don't forget. This mess is going to wind up costing you a fortune, money that you don't have despite the break this firm is giving you, at my insistence. Sit down and listen to her, then you can get your life started again."

John shook his head. "No, Woody, I won't sit with her, I won't speak with her, I just won't. I know you think I'm being pig headed, but I know what she's going to say. Believe me, I could write the script. She'll either admit her affair and beg forgiveness, or she'll try to lie her way out of it. I don't want to listen. There's nothing, nothing that she can say that'll change my mind.

"Listen, Woody. I know you're right about the spiraling cost of this. You can tell Esther that I won't speak with her, and she can do whatever she wants. Hold off on the divorce, it really isn't that important any longer. I have absolutely no plans to get married again, probably never will and... ," John smiled a bit and emitted a bitter laugh. "Maybe she'll agree when she decides to corral another sucker. When it's in her best interest, then she'll go ahead with the divorce. I really don't give a shit anymore."

Holmes shrugged. "Okay, John. I'll let her know. We'll just hold all of the paperwork until... whenever, but do me a favor. When you feel up to it, give me a call, let's have dinner. It's been ages since we got together... ," he paused, his voice fading.

John immediately rose and put a hand on his friends shoulder. "Damn, I'm sorry, Woody. It's been what?... over a year since Mary's passing. Here I am laying all of my crap on you and I know you're still hurting. Of course I'll call you. Give me a few days - we'll get together for dinner and a few beers. I would really enjoy that."

Holmes smiled and escorted John out of the office. He stood for a moment, shaking his head in sympathy, watching the slumped shoulders of his friend as he walked out of the front door and into the cold, gray afternoon.

It didn't take John long to make the drive home. He parked in the driveway and slowly trudged through the front door of his townhouse. He paused for a moment, looking around at his new rental. He had moved in about 6 weeks ago and had spent a fortune in paint, new carpeting and furniture. He had vowed that he would begin his new life in suitable quarters, he wouldn't hide away in a monk's cell. Fuck it, he would enjoy his single life. After all, he was only 46. There was life after marriage, a marriage that he hoped would someday be severed.

He strolled around his new digs, looking about with half a mind while simmering at Esther's intransigence. Spacious living room and dining room, modern kitchen with granite countertops, two up to date bathrooms, one directly off the master bedroom. But what really sold him on this unit was the small add-on. An add-on directly off the living room accessed by sliding glass doors. Contained therein was a modern spa/hot tub with all of the bells and whistles. John smiled again as he viewed it. Over the past few weeks he had enjoyed many hours in that tub, hours relaxing and loosening tight muscles as well as a mental tension that plagued him.

"Damn it, Irene. It's not the end of the world," he yelled. "It's just not working, you know that. It was great, but it's just not working."

"Fuck you, Tony. You're just scared shitless by your mother. She wants you to marry a nice Italian girl, a good, solid Yankee's not good enough for her. Screw you and her. Get the fuck out, Tony. Who needs you... Irene's voice broke and she turned away so that he now ex-boyfriend, Tony Mazza wouldn't see her tears.

Tony stood still for a moment, a genuine look of regret on his face, then turned and left, quietly closing the door behind him. Irene sighed and threw herself onto the sofa. Her tears had ceased and a wry smile appeared on her lips. It's wasn't as if she truly loved Tony, it was just so frustrating that she couldn't hold on to a man.

"What the hell is wrong with me," she wondered. "Why can't I find someone who can truly love me? Why, after all these years, can't I find someone with whom to share my life?" Taking a deep breath, Irene headed for the bathroom. She pulled her panties down, sat and emptied her bladder. Taking a handful of toilet tissue, she patted herself dry, rose and kicked her panties off.

Pulling her dress off quickly, Irene unhooked her bra, picked up her panties and deposited her undergarments in the hamper. She moved into the shower where she stood and let the hot water stream over her, feeling some of the tension leave her. Soaping herself quickly, she rinsed and stepped out of the cubicle. Taking a towel from the bar, she dried herself and tossed the towel over the shower door. Reaching for her robe, Irene paused and turned to the full length mirror on the bathroom door.

She examined her reflection critically. She saw a tall, mature woman in the prime of life. Her dark hair was now shorter than usual, curling around her face. Her light, olive skin was flawless, her breasts large with little sag. Her gaze traveled down to a flat, taut tummy then to flaring hips attesting to her womanhood. Her pubic bush of dark hair was trimmed nicely - she always made sure to keep in from becoming unruly. Irene twisted and gazed upon her rear. "Hmmm," she muttered. "Perhaps a trifle too large, but not bad, not bad at all." She then grimaced and muttered, "Shit."

Flinging the door open, Irene impatiently shrugged her robe over her shoulders and threw herself onto the bed. Picking up a novel she had started, she opened the book and tried to interest herself in the banal plot before slamming the book shut and tossing it from her.

"Damn it, I need a drink," she said aloud. She rose from the bed and walked to the kitchen where a few bottles of whiskey were stored. A glass, some ice cubes and a splash of bourbon completed her task. Returning to the living room, Irene sank gratefully into an easy chair, sipped her drink and again wondered where her life was going.

"Damn it, stop feeling sorry for yourself, girl," she muttered. "I need some company, I need to get out. I can't stay here feeling sorry for myself." An idea lit up her eyes and she moved to the phone and dialed.

"John?" she exclaimed when she heard his voice. "It's Irene. Are you busy? I would really like to come over." She paused and listened to his reply.

"That's great. I'll see you in an hour or sooner."

Darkness had started to fall as Irene pulled into the driveway. Quickly exiting her car, she moved to the front door and before she could ring the bell the door opened and John pulled her into the warmth of the foyer.

"Perfect timing, sweetie. The delivery guy was just here and everything is still hot. C'mon, give me your coat and let's eat," John laughed.

"Wow, John, you know how to sweep a girl off her feet. This is perfect. I didn't even realize that I was hungry. But now that you mention it, I'm starving. Lead the way."

They chatted amiably as they devoured cartons of Chinese delicacies, then, discarding empty and half-full containers in the trash, they retired to the living room with the remnants of the bottle of wine that John had opened. Filling their glasses with the last of the wine, John tossed the empty bottle in the bag with the rest of the refuse. They continued their banter until their glasses were empty.

John looked down, considered opening another bottle, then looked up at Irene. "You know what, enough with this silly stuff. Let's get serious."

He then rose and retrieved a bottle of good scotch from the cabinet bar. Splashing a goodly amount in two glasses over ice, he gave one to Irene and settled himself opposite her in another easy chair. He eyed his friend owlishly, already a bit buzzed from the wine.

"Okay, sweetie. Lay it on me, it's my turn. What's bothering you? Tell Uncle John," he said gently.

Irene laughed and sipped her drink. "You know, this is really good. I never realized that you had such good taste in liquor." John sat there quietly, stared at her and said nothing.

"Oh, shit," she muttered. "I guess you know me better than that. It's Tony - he broke up with me today. Crissake, John. What the hell is wrong with me, am I that much of an ogre? Why can't I keep a man?" she asked plaintively.

"You really want to know, Renee? Because if you do, I can tell you. It's no big mystery, if you're really sure you want to know."

Irene sat quietly for a moment, startled at his comment, at his question. "What the hell do you mean? If you knew, why the hell haven't you told me before? Why did you keep your mouth shut, John?" It was obvious that she was more than just a bit irritated.

John waved his hands defensively. "Hold on, hold on, Renee. Esther never let me say anything to you. She didn't want to hurt your feelings. I didn't agree with her, but I figured she might be right, but it doesn't make any difference now. Who gives a shit what she thinks," John sneered and then laughed. "It is you, sweetie. It's your fault and I'll tell you why. It's because you always latch on to schmucks, pricks. You choose unwisely, Renee. I tried to hint about that to you in the past, but you never saw it.

Shit, why do you think that we never really cottoned to any of the losers you brought around.

"Look, sweetie" Jon assumed a serious tone. "You're a beautiful, intelligent woman. You can get almost any guy you want, but the guys you choose break your heart. Think about it."

Irene sat there, her mouth open. At first a surge of anger flashed in her eyes; it was difficult for her to accept what John had just told her. He had intimated, no... flat out told her that she was an idiot when it came to men. She wasn't stupid... after that first moment of resentment, she quickly digested the information that John had given her and quickly came to the conclusion that he was right. The men in her life were pricks... she had never had a decent relationship, a relationship that hadn't ended badly.

"Son of a bitch," she whispered. "Goddamn it, you're right. Why haven't I seen that before. Why do I do that... maybe I need a shrink. Damn, now that I look at it, you are right. Maybe I'm a loser too and that's why I choose losers."

"Wrong, wrong, wrong," John protested, getting to his feet. "First, let me refresh our drinks."

While John was refilling their glasses he continued. "You're no loser, don't start that. But you may be right, maybe you should see someone who can help. That may be a really good idea, kid." John hesitated and then let out a grim chuckle. "Maybe I should do that too, My head isn't exactly screwed on too well,"

They sat and looked at each other for a moment. John then tried to stifle a chuckle. Irene smiled tentatively and it wasn't long before the two of them were roaring with laughter.

"Boy, are we a pair," groused Irene, taking another hefty swallow out of her glass. "Well, at least you had almost 20 wonderful years with one woman," She immediately put her hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just said, seeing John's eye's start to tear.

"Damn, I'm sorry, John. That just slipped out, please forgive me, I wasn't thinking."

"Nah, that's ok, Renee. You're right. For the most part they were wonderful years, that's what makes this situation so fuckin' tragic. Now all I do is wonder how many other men she been with over those wonderful years. See what happens when you lose the trust you've had in a loved one? Everything becomes suspect," John replied sadly.

"Enough with that crap. Let's me refill these glasses. I'm glad that you came over, Renee. We can get drunk together," John laughed.

So the two friends sat, chatted amiably and slowly got tipsy, which, of course, was their goal. They both knew that drowning sorrows in alcohol only made them worse - especially the next morning when the pain struck.

But at this point they really didn't care.

"Johnny... ," slurred Irene. "You nevah let me use the... wha' the hell is that tub out there."

"The spa?" questioned John, trying to keep his eyes focused. "Hey, good idee... let's get in the spa. C'mon, Ree," John stumbled to her and with arms entwined they staggered into the alcove.

"Uh, oh. No swimmy suit, Johnny." Irene said sadly. "I din't bring a bikini. Oh, shit."

"Fuck it. Let's go skinny dip... uh, whas it called. Skinny somthin," John laughed.

Irene laughed in return. "Okey doke, las' one nekkid loses," and proceeded to undress.

It didn't take long before they were both nude. John always kept the heater on in the spa as he used it quite often, so there was no problem setting it, especially in his present state.

They stood there for a moment, gazing at each other. "Jeez, Ree," John muttered, coming out of his drunken state a bit. "Damn, you're gorgeous, you look mahvelous," he chuckled.

Irene blushed a bit, but strangely didn't feel embarrassed. "You not so bad either, Johnny. But what's that thingy stickin' out like that?" she pointed.

This time John blushed as he realized that he had quite an erection. He laughed and muttered, "see, you're not such an ogre after all, are you. C'mon, let's get in," and he helped her into the swirling warm water.

They sat next to each other and luxuriated in the jets of water now pounding on their bare bodies. They were quite aware of each other's nearness and John was also aware that his erection had not gone down. His mind was a bit muddled from the whiskey, but he knew that he had to be careful - he didn't want to lose Irene's friendship because of a wrong move.

Irene on the other hand had no such qualms. She had started to lubricate a bit when she saw how excited John had become and she was tickled pink that she was able to produce such a result. "Looks like you still have it, sweetie," she thought to herself. "Damn, I'm really horny, sitting here naked next to a naked John. Should I make a move, or will he? Will he become angry? Oh, hell, why not," she finally said to herself and moved her hand into his groin.

John started as he felt Irene take his throbbing member into her hand. He put his head back and groaned as she started to fondle him. She slowly stroked the smooth flesh, then moving her hand up she covered the head of his cock, feeling the slick coat of his lubrication. John knew that he couldn't take too much of this, it had been too many months since he had been with a woman.

John suddenly shuddered and Irene knew what was coming. She held on to him as he released spurts of semen, making the water cloudy. Irene smiled as she felt him slowly slump against her. "Johnny, Johnny, you surely needed that," she murmured, releasing his now flaccid penis.

"Jeez... Jeez, Renee. I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't... even know that I was that close." John breathed. He then sat up and turned to his spa companion. Taking her in his arms he kissed her gently. Releasing her after a bit, he looked into her eyes and smiled. "You're right, I surely did need that - you have no idea how much I needed that, and... and now I want to return the favor."

John suddenly put his arms around Irene and quickly lifted her to the deck which surrounded the spa. She gasped and quickly put her hands on his shoulders to keep her balance, noting how close he stood to her, between her thighs. Keeping his hands on her hips, John leaned forward to kiss her and as their lips touched, the tears came, unbidden.

John sagged, attempted to stop sobbing, then was enveloped by Irene's arms, his face now buried in the deep cleavage of her ample breasts. She cooed and stroked his head, listening with sadness at the grief tearing his soul. After a few moments, John gently pulled away from her and splashed some water onto his face.

"Damn, damn," he muttered. "I'm sorry, Renee. Don't know what happened... damn, damn... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I can't, I just can't, Renee" He put his face in his hands and just stood quietly, trembling a bit.

Irene helped a now despondent John out of the spa and into one of the fluffy white robes hanging at the back of the deck. Shrugging one onto her shoulders she led an him into the bedroom where she put him to bed, as one would a small child. It appeared that John fell asleep as soon as he head sank into the pillow. Realizing that she was in no condition to drive anywhere, Irene headed for the second bedroom where she crawled into bed and tried to fall asleep, sleep which wouldn't come.

She knew at that moment that John was not available, despite his separation from Esther. She also knew that he never would be. And, in her heart of hearts, she knew that she didn't really love John. He was her dearest friend, but what was absent was the love that true mates share. Her eyes teared a bit, not at that realization, but at the agony that her friend was going through. The pity of it all was that John loved Esther with a devotion that was unique. Her betrayal would haunt him forever.

"Irene, I know I screwed up, and I know that I screwed up badly, but John is wrong. I never had an affair with Jim or with any other man. He thinks that I've been screwing around for months now and I can't get him to sit down and talk to me. I have to convince him that he's wrong, that what he saw that night was the first time anything like that happened," Esther concluded wearily.

The past few months had not been kind to Esther. She had lost weight and was drawn and pale, listless with little energy for anything beyond work. Irene had made it a point to visit Esther and speak with her. She knew that John was suffering and her suspicion that Esther was in the same state was confirmed by this visit.