Xmas Wishes: How Do You Sleep-nasty

by StangStar06

Copyright© 2011 by StangStar06

Sex Story: A modern Christmas tale-this is the original version. If you're looking for a heart warming Christmas story with a happy ending, this ain't it.

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

Author's note: Before you start reading this you should think about what you want. There are two versions of this story. Hopefully they'll come out on the same day. The version you're reading is the original version of the story. This is not a very cheerful christmas story but I like it. Mikothebaby did convince me to write a happy ending version of the story but this ain't it. At any rate. Merry Christmas to all of you. Having you read our stories is the best Christmas present ever. SS06 and mikothebaby

I dragged my suitcase through yet another airport, marveling at the fact that the cheap Christmas decorations in this one resembled the ones at the other two airports I'd seen this week. For some reason, some genius decided that blasting Christmas songs over the airport's sound system was a good idea. Just hearing that fucking Britney Spears whining to Santa about her Christmas wish only seemed to depress me even more.

One of the wheels on my suitcase was either stuck or just not rolling so I was doing more dragging than rolling it.

I checked in at the counter and found that my flight would be taking off on time. That was amazing and the best news of the week which only served to show how terrible my life is. This isn't the way my life was supposed to be going. I'm pushing forty, stuck in a job that's going nowhere, involuntarily divorced and on the edge of depression.

I haven't been on a date in two months, unless you count those two nights last week when I fell asleep in front of the TV with my cat. I really think they should count because it is a male cat. That makes him a member of the opposite sex. And he acts just like a man too. As soon as we were done eating he tried to cop a feel. I was half awake when I noticed that the cat got a really intense look on his face and started rubbing my left breast. Okay, I'd dropped tuna from my sandwich on it, but he was still trying to feel my tits.

A cording to my life plan, I should be working on my second perfect child by now, instead of slogging my way through another airport. The holidays are the worst time to fly. I guess it's seeing all of those happy smiling faces. All of these people heading off to be with their families, while I'm just trying to put food on the table and keep the bills paid.

As I sit down in the lounge to wait to be called to board my plane, I look around the boarding area. The decor looks like the decor in a hundred other similar areas. I've been doing this for so long that all airports and hotels look the same to me.

I spot him out of the corner of my eye as I reach for my purse to get my phone. A guy, a few years younger than I am, smiles as he approaches me. He's probably about thirty five. I wish I'd grabbed my compact instead of the phone so I could make sure my make-up isn't smudged. But shit, he's the one smiling at me. If he didn't like what he saw, he wouldn't be grinning. Well maybe he would if he was trying to sell me something.

I sit up straight and look at him as he approaches. He isn't bad looking. His hair is a light blond. I prefer dark hair on men, but I can't afford to be choosy. Actually, until he lit up when he looked at me, I'd begun to think that I was too far over the hill.

He slows down a bit as he gets closer to me, so I smile. I don't give him my full thousand megawatt smile because I don't want him to think I'm desperate or a professional. I just give him the friendly version.

"Hi," I say cheerfully, as he gets within speaking range. He looks at me strangely and walks right by me. As my shock wears off I notice that his smile and the way his face lit up weren't for me at all.

"Did you miss me?" he asks the woman standing just behind me.

"Mm Hm," she replies cheerfully. "Who was that woman who spoke to you?" she asks.

"The fuck if I know," he shrugs. "Just some weird old airport woman, I guess. Let's go home so I can show you how much I missed you."

"I can't wait," she gushes. "We might not make it all the way home."

As the happy couple saunters away from me, I can't help but grit my teeth. I hate that bitch. Then I realized that it was just my jealousy coming to the forefront of my consciousness. She was basking in and enjoying the fact that she had a man who loved her. He loved her so much that being away from her made him long to be with her again. They'd go home and try to fuck each other's brains out. But there would be more to it than that.

Their union would be one of joy and sharing. They would literally open themselves to each other and share their souls. It would be so much more than just two healthy beings slapping against each other until they released fluids. That kind of thing was very special. So maybe I was jealous of the bitch, but I didn't really hate her. In fact I used to be her and that's the problem. I knew intimately what she had and I'd give anything to get that back. The thing that almost made me cross that border into hating her was the fact that unlike me, she was smart enough to know what she had and treasure it.

After they left, I looked around at the other passengers in the boarding area. A couple of them looked at me sheepishly. They'd probably seen my embarrassing little drama as it unfolded. Well, I was really fucking glad that my embarrassment and my very human mistake could bring some happiness or some entertainment to their lives.

Other than seeing me embarrass myself, I was sure that none of them would have given me a second look. I guess that I was nearing the age when women developed their special powers. Apparently mine were kicking in early. Women over forty, unless they're extremely beautiful, well built or rich; all get the power of invisibility.

The only ones immune to our powers are our families. Everyone else can look right at us and simply not see us. Once we get that old, young men don't consider us sex objects, and since they think about sex most of the time, we don't exist. Young women don't want to be like us, so we don't exist in their world either. Men our age all want younger women and we don't want men who are too much older than us. The funny thing is that if given the choice, the men who are older than us would mostly pick younger women too, if they could get them.

The boarding area fills up quickly as the time for the flight to depart gets closer. I pull my brief case and purse closer to me as the seating area becomes more congested.

I wonder about my family for perhaps the fourth time this week. What happened to us? After my parents died, we seemed to lose track of each other. I have a brother and a sister out there somewhere. I don't know their phone numbers or even where they live. Okay, that isn't totally true. My sister lives somewhere in the south. And my brother lives in prison. I'm not sure which one, though I do know that he'll be there for a long ass time. He got caught doing something with drugs. He was supposed to be the smart one too.

I also have a vague memory of some aunts and I think, an uncle that are still alive, but I wouldn't even begin to know where to look. I guess what got me to thinking about all of this was that hokey assed movie that I woke up and watched one night last week when my cat was taking a break from fondling my tuna smeared tits.

It was one of those movies where the spirit of Christmas gives this guy who had almost died trying to save some old lady a wish. I'm telling you it was hokey. I know that most of you are thinking that the guy asked for a Gazillion dollars, right. Not a million, not a billion, a fucking gazillion dollars, right. Enough money to buy your own country and buy enough people to live in your country too.

But nope, the guy only wanted one thing. Stop me if you've seen this movie. All he wanted was to have a nice Christmas with his family, one more time. Like me, his family was scattered all over everywhere. They had their own lives and careers and kids and all of that real life normal shit. Over the years, they'd drifted apart and become strangers. They only got together when someone died and then only for the funeral and to decide who got what of the dead relative's shit.

I guess in my own way I've been wondering whether or not things like that really ever happen. And if they do, do they ever happen for people like me. Because you see, more than anything else in the world I wish that I had my own Xmas wish, like that idiot in the movie. And no I wouldn't waste mine on money either. Don't get me wrong, I don't want world peace. The world's economy is already bad enough. We could use a good war about now to crank things back up.

And if you're thinking I want to get my family back together again, you're out of your fucking mind. That gang of losers and freeloaders should really stay the fuck away from me if they know what's good for them. I can only think of one thing I'd wish for and strangely enough, I threw it away stupidly myself.

Shit! Stupid teenaged girls who don't look where they're going should all be killed. The little bitch is as big as I am and she just tramped all over my foot and kept walking. Holy shit, she's bigger than I am. Was my ass that big when I was her age? And the little bitch didn't have the manners to even apologize. She just walked right by showing her friend a poster of some little girl she'd bought at the gift shop.

Who the fuck is Justine Beaver? Oh it's Justin Bieber and he's a guy. I remember him now. We had another version of him about three or four years ago. Yep, only then his name was Jessie McCarthy. Shit, at least Jessie had a hit. What was the name of that song? Oh yeah it was called, "How do you sleep."

I played that song over and over again a while ago. It helped to take the edge off of my problem. But now it really has been a year. Anyway, back to my one wish, if I had one wish. I'd wish for one chance to get back with my ex. Just like the words in that song. "It's been about a year now. Ain't seen or heard from you. I've been missing you crazy. How do you sleep?"

I wondered all kinds of things about Jared. I wondered if he ever thought about me. I wondered if he missed me. I wondered if he had any regrets about the way he just threw our marriage away. If he had it to do all over again, would he have given me a second chance?

Statistics say that most people are miserable after a divorce. I know that I am. But they say that even the people who wanted the divorces are unhappy. Eight out of ten of the people who go through a divorce say that if they had to do it again, they'd work harder to save their marriages. I wondered if Jared felt like that.

More than anything else, I miss him at night and in the morning when I first wake up. I'm not just talking about sex, although the sex with Jared was amazing. More than anything else, I miss having that man lay down and wrap his arms around me and hold me through the night. Nothing else mattered when I was in his arms. The bills didn't matter, the job didn't matter, nothing did.

Even on days when he went out for a run and just fell into bed still sweaty, I craved that man's touch. And I know he loved me. He was a really good looking guy and smart as hell, but for some reason he loved me. And like in the song, it has been almost exactly a year since I've seen him. He didn't even come to court. I never had a chance to explain or apologize or even talk to him. I can still see the look on his face. That last look haunts me to this day.

I looked up as the woman behind the counter's loudspeaker distorted voice announced boarding for my flight. Like all the other robots, I shuffled listlessly into the line forming in front of the door.

Despite what you see on TV or hear on the radio, chivalry is dead. Several young men leaped in front of me to get a better position in line. Okay, I know I'm not Jennifer Anniston, but is it really that manly to push your way past a woman struggling with a heavy briefcase and a purse? And if you do manage to get in line ahead of her, what do you get? The plane won't take off until all of the passengers have boarded. If you're traveling coach or economy, you won't get upgraded because you got on the plane first.

They should have a special award for douche bags like that. Let's call it the DB trophy. It can be the Heisman trophy for douche bags, dick heads and assholes worldwide. I can see it now; we'll have a ceremony on ESPN or FOX. The announcer will say, "And for knocking down a forty year old woman dragging her luggage through an airport boarding line, the award goes to..." (Insert the name of dickhead here)

Maybe I was just cranky at the thought of spending another holiday season alone. I really shouldn't let things like this bother me. It never used to when I was married. All I thought about back then was getting back home to Jared. Of course I traveled a lot less then too. I only went on the road if it was absolutely necessary.

Now that I'm divorced, I have no reason to stay home and be depressed, so I travel more. Then again, maybe since I'm traveling so much, I get more exposure to the douche bags.

As I settled into my place in line, I saw one of those exceptions. One of those guys who give us hope. There was a guy up about 8 places in line ahead of me who'd gotten there because he was standing near the door when it opened. He pulled a woman who was even older than me into line ahead of him. When the young douche bag behind him started to make a fuss about it the guy turned and glared at him. The young douche bag was so shocked that he just shut up.

I think that I was more shocked than the douche bag was. I felt the weirdest tingling going from my feet all the way up the back of my neck. The man who'd stood up to the douche bags was a medium sized guy. He wasn't big by any stretch of the imagination, but not small either. He had brown hair that seemed to have a nice shine to it. His eyes were soft and brown as well. This couldn't be considered love at first site since it wasn't the first time I'd seen him. I'd seen him hundreds, make that thousands of times, both physically and in my dreams. It appeared for some strange reason, that the spirit of Christmas had heard my whining and responded. My X-mas wish was coming true. The man who'd stood up to the douche bag was my ex-husband, Jared.

It was surreal, standing only a few feet away from him. On one hand, I wanted to rush over to him and hug the living shit out of him. I wanted to tell him that our year apart was over and we could get back together again and both of our lives would be better. I wanted to tell him that I understood what I'd done and I'd learned from it. Not only had I learned from it but I'd suffered from it and I'd do anything I had to do to make sure that it never happened again.

On the other hand, I needed to be smarter than that. I had to look at this logically. I needed to assess the situation and not just go in half-cocked. There was bound to be some anger or resentment on his part. He might not be ready to see or speak to me yet.

Looking at him, I could see that he wasn't the same old Jared. But shit, I wasn't the same old Audrey. He was thinner. I'm not sure that was a good thing. He wasn't overweight to begin with. I guess we'd both handled the depression in different ways. I spent a lot of my time lying around eating chocolate so maybe I'd gained two or fourteen pounds. And maybe my ass had spread a bit and my gut isn't quite as tight as it used to be. It was never that tight to begin with. But I hadn't gone so far that a few weeks of dieting and getting more exercise couldn't reverse the damage.

Jared's depression probably had him skipping meals because he was just too tired or just didn't feel like cooking.

But it wasn't just that he was thinner, he seemed to have a different mindset as well. He used to be so focused and so energetic. But now, he seemed to be more in control of both himself and his surroundings. He seemed to have matured. At the same time, he'd lost something. Maybe it was his innocence. I guess that I was probably to blame for that. He'd trusted me and loved me completely. And I'd simply been unworthy of that trust.

My heart was beating like a drum. Just being this close to him again had my mind running through all types of possibilities. It had to be the spirit of Christmas. It had been just over a year and I hadn't seen or even heard about him from anyone. And now, out of nowhere he pops up. It was a sign. I was sure of it.

I needed to be really careful about the way I approached him though. My track record was impeccable. I seemingly fucked up everything I touched. My life and my marriage were proof of that. I knew, X-mas wish or not, I'd only have one shot at this.

As the line started moving and we boarded the plane, luck seemed to be on my side. The flight attendants seemed to be seating everyone according to their tickets. Jared was in business class like I was. And luckily for me the douche bag and his friends, as well as the old lady were all in economy.

Jared seemed to also be traveling alone, which gave me another edge. More than likely no one would sit down next to him until all of the available seats had been filled by at least one person. Then the seats by the more attractive people would fill in. The seats next to people who were fat, ugly, smelly or just weird would be the last ones taken.

Judging by my place in line, when I got on there should still be empty seats. I'd forgo an empty seat to sit next to Jared.

As I got on the plane, I noticed the two female flight attendants looking at Jared and then at each other and nodding.

As I started down the aisle, just as I got ready to dive into the seat next to Jared, the three hundred and fifty pound behemoth three passengers ahead of me, sat down next to Jared. I was crushed. I didn't know what to do. I sat down across the aisle from the budding Buddha and stewed. I was pissed beyond belief. Why the fuck would this fat asshole want to destroy my X-mas wish by sitting down next to my husband. Was this guy gay or something?

I couldn't believe that the spirit of Christmas had set me up like that just to dash my hopes. Somewhere up in the clouds, the spirit of Christmas was probably laughing her ass off at me.

Then things got even worse. A young woman walked down the aisle. Even I noticed her as she got on the plane. She had the long blond hair and big giant eyes and the big everything else. Big obviously fake boobs, a small high pitched voice and a habit of laughing at things that weren't remotely funny if the person who said them was male. Even the flight attendants grimaced when the bitch got on the plane.

As she walked down the aisle, I noticed that the giant next to Jared had his tongue out and he was drooling.

I smiled at him. He looked embarrassed that he'd been caught perving on her. "I'm surprised that you're not following her," I said. He just shrugged his shoulders and looked at me sheepishly.

"Seriously," I said. "Her name is Tina and she likes big teddy bear type guys."

His neck jerked around in her direction so fast I thought his head was about to pop off. I have never seen a guy that big move that fast. If the players on the Lions' defensive line could move that quickly, no quarterback in the NFL would be safe. He ran his fat ass to the back of the plane and plopped down in the seat next to Barbie so quickly it looked like he was jet propelled. I don't think his feet touched the floor more than twice in that whole distance. Boy, would he be pissed when he found out that I didn't know anything about that bimbo.

I quietly settled into the seat next to my ex-husband. He had his head tilted back and his eyes closed. I don't think he'd recognized me yet. Either that or he just hadn't seen me. I was sure that over the course of a three hour flight we'd have a chance to talk. All of the seats around us filled in and I found myself smiling. Not only did I smile because my Xmas wish was on track, but I smiled because with all of the seats filled, he couldn't escape.

He looked up as the flight attendants gave their usual safety procedure lecture and went over the way we were expected to conduct ourselves while on the plane. Finally, they locked the door and the plane began to taxi forward.

Jared released a big breath of air. "Do I need to hold your hand?" I asked. "Are you still nervous about take offs and landings?"

His head turned towards me and our eyes met. In that faction of a second, I saw him go through recognition, anger and finally resignation. "I'm fine," he said. Then he pulled out a magazine and busied himself reading it.

It had been a big step, he now knew that I was there and sitting right next to him. He hadn't cursed at me or tried to get one of the flight attendants to change seats.

The giant silver beer can with wings that we were sitting on gained speed and gradually lifted its bulk into the air. Even after all of the flights I've been on, I'm still astonished that something that big can propel itself through the air. The instance where we stop rolling and start flying is one of the most amazing things in the world to me. This plane, like all the others I've been on, made the transition as effortlessly as possible. We gained altitude and then executed a long sweeping bank to align ourselves in the direction of our course.

The captain said a few words over the intercom that I was simply not paying attention to. The flight attendants walked up and down the aisles greeting everyone and answering questions. We hadn't been in the air for a full two minutes yet and those fembots were already annoying me. It took every bit of my self-control not to scream at them for being so God damned cheerful.

Jared, on the other hand, found his magazine mesmerizing. In fact he hadn't looked up from it even once.

"Can we talk?" I said out of the blue. His brown eyes looked up from his magazine at me. They scanned my face as if looking for something. Whatever he wanted to see there, I hoped to God that he'd find it.

"What would be the point?" he asked. His voice was masked by neutrality. I had no idea of how he felt about talking to me. He could have been seething with anger, wincing in pain or simply totally disinterested. I just couldn't tell.

"Jare, we never got a chance to talk, uhm afterwards. I never got the chance to apologize or explain. I didn't get a chance to say anything to you. We never got any form of closure. My shrink says that after a traumatic experience, both parties are in a kind of limbo until they get a chance to come face to face and express their feelings or their viewpoints on the incident to the other concerned party."

He looked at me as if he didn't understand what I was saying. His look had no anger in it, only curiosity. He wasn't trying to hurt me. It was as if he simply couldn't comprehend why I'd want to talk to him or why he'd be interested in listening.

"Interesting," he said. Then he turned back to his magazine.

Jared always did have a way of frustrating me. In this case, he wasn't holding a conversation with me. I'd imagined this moment thousands of times over the last year. There were so many things that I wanted to say to him. I'd practiced answering any and all questions that I was sure he'd ask. I had responses to all of them and I even had answers to his responses to my questions.

As usual, Jared wasn't doing what I'd expected. He not only wasn't having a conversation with me, he wasn't refusing to speak to me either. I'd been ready for him to refuse to speak to me. I had a whole speech or three prepared for handling that. Two of them included starting out with things that were outright lies just to draw him into the conversations. But Jared, with his refusing to refuse to speak, yet not actually speaking, avoided them all.

He was so different from everyone I'd ever met. He was smart. He was sexy and he danced to the beat of a drummer that seemingly only he could hear. At the same time, if he liked you, he had no problems drawing you into his world and allowing you to hear that drummer and jiggle just a little bit to his unusual rhythm right along with him. Fuck, I missed that drummer.

When we first got together, both of us were out of college and deep into our twenties. We'd both started our careers and were both between relationships. I met him through a friend of a friend. She liked him too but he had simply never noticed her. Guys always talk about how much they hate being locked in the friend zone. I think that we women don't know it but sometimes guys make a move on us that is totally inappropriate on purpose.

They do this because they want to break out of the friend zone. The friend zone is hell to a guy. It means that he can do everything in the world for us but we're still never going to fuck him. We treat the guys in the friend zone like they're girlfriends who just happen to have dicks swinging between their legs. We can meet and totally hate other guys. We can think those guys are total assholes. But those assholes are still more likely to fuck us than the guys in the friend zone are. So sometimes those friend zone guys will grab your ass or your tits, knowing that they're destroying the friendship with us just to get out of the friend zone. To them, it's better to be an asshole that may someday get laid, than to be stuck having to listen to the details of every bad date a woman has been on, without the slightest chance of ever fucking her.

Anyway, Connie was in Jared's friend zone. She would stop over to watch football with him, even though she didn't know a thing about it. While she was in his apartment, she'd accidentally spill beer all over herself and have to change into something of his. She told me once she wore one of his t-shirts with nothing on under it for a whole game and he simply didn't make a move.

It was very demoralizing for her. She knew he wasn't gay, and yet there she was sitting only inches away from him with her nipples as hard as diamonds and her pussy so wet you could hear it splashing, but Jared didn't notice. Things like that are hard on a girl's ego. So she decided to fight fire with fire. She pretended that she wasn't interested in him either. She even went as far as to suggest other women that he might be interested in. She wasn't stupid enough to suggest anyone who was more attractive than she was, or anyone she thought he might like better, which was where I came in.

She brought me over to a party she was hosting and introduced me to him. It was a fucked up situation, because I really wanted to help her out. But the problem was the first time I laid eyes on him, I wanted him. At that time I was twenty six years old and working as a secretary. I dated frequently but hadn't found anyone really serious. I wasn't a prude but I insisted that my dates had to take the time to get to know me before we got physical.

After we talked and I heard Jared's side of the story, I realized that he was even worse than I was. He simply didn't sleep with women that he didn't really sense a connection with. If he couldn't imagine himself married to you, he simply wouldn't sleep with you.

Apparently, we both passed each other's standards because less than two hours after we met, Jared dick was in me as far as he could get it. My legs were so far apart trying to pull him in me even further that I expected my hips to pop out of their sockets at any second. It felt so good that I just didn't care.

I lost Connie as a friend, of course, but shit, it was all her own fault any way. In a way, Connie had insulted me. She'd only introduced me to Jared because she thought that she was prettier than I was. She also thought that she was built better than I was and she thought that I had no chance with him. It was her loss and her fault.

I still laugh sometimes thinking about how she must have felt after introducing us at that party, only to see the two of us leave shortly thereafter. She must've felt really bad to leave her guests just so she could follow us back to my apartment. She waited outside for over four hours until he left, so she could run up to my apartment and confront me.

I opened the door thinking that he'd forgotten something. I hadn't even bothered to put any clothes on. I still had bite marks all over my neck and his sperm running down my leg. She took one look at me and burst into tears before calling me every kind of whore and tramp she could imagine.

"You're not as pretty as I am," she cried. I just nodded my head. "Your tits are too small and your ass is way too big," she screamed. I nodded my head again. "You're a whore. You fucked him on the first date. You didn't actually even go on a date." Again all I could do was nod my head in agreement with her.

"What do you have that I don't?" she cried.

"Well, for starters," I said. "His cum in my pussy and no intention of giving him back to you." I slammed the door in her face and ended five years of friendship. But it was also the start of my relationship and eventual marriage to Jared. He was and still is the love of my life.

In those first few weeks with Jared, I quickly learned what love really was. We spent almost every possible second together. We spent a lot of that time in bed, but we also spent time getting to know each other's likes, dislikes and personality quirks as well. There were a lot of days when we'd go to bed with each other and not have sex. We'd simply lay there touching each other.

After we got married, it got even more intense. Jared became consumed with making our lives together the best they could be. He bent himself over backwards trying to make and keep me happy. We saved every penny we could to buy our house. The plan was that we'd start preparing for our eventual genetically perfect nuclear children. I noticed after a while that for Jared, while we didn't have very much money coming in from our jobs above what we needed and the little bit that we could save every week, there was a double standard.

Jared, denied himself even the most inconsequential things, but he'd always splurge on anything I wanted. I didn't realize what he was doing until the summer that he didn't even drive his Mustang once. That way he told me, he could save the entire cost of the car's ridiculously high insurance rates. He could also save the increased spending on gas for its powerful motor.

I walked away from him shaking my head when I realized that only the week before he'd taken me out to dinner at a very expensive restaurant that I wanted to try and he'd bought me three new outfits, that I had to admit I didn't really need.

It had started to sink in, that this man loved me. He hadn't married me simply because he liked fucking me. He really wanted me to be with him for the rest of his life. He was going to be more to me than the daddy figure to my kids. Jared was the missing piece of my soul.

I applied for and got a position at work in the sales trainee program. After six months, I was a full- fledged salesperson. I had and fought for accounts and everything. I did notice that my sales weren't nearly as high as some of the guys'. I thought it was long term relationships with their customers or other factors like that.

I listened to some of the older salesmen sometimes. I noticed that they all had ways of "Sweetening" their deals. Some of them invited their customers to parties or barbecues. Others played golf or invited their customers to go gambling. But all of those guys got the best accounts and the highest sales numbers and the best bonuses.

I guess it was about 4 years ago; I'd been a sales person for about 3 years. One of my best customers was Mick Fleetwood. Mick had been one of my first accounts but he still only gave me small sales. He sometimes called some of the other salespeople for his bigger sales even though technically he was my account.

Mick was 68 years old and his health was bad. His wife had died a couple of years before that and I'd gone to her funeral. I thought that we had the kind of relationship where I could ask him anything, so I did. I asked him why he gave me all of his regular day to day small order business, but deferred his big machinery sales to John Mcvie or even Lindsay Buckingham.

He told me that those guys had a way of sweetening the deals for him. It turned out that those guys were getting the randy old bastard hookers. I was desperate for a bonus, so I could stay in the sales force. I really needed to do my part to help Jared save for our house. So I slept with Mick.

I really didn't consider it sex. He was 68 years old. Even with Viagra he could only keep it up for about ten minutes. There was also the fact that no man alive could compete with Jared when it came to sex. We were just so perfectly matched. We fit so well together and I loved him so much. You simply couldn't compare him to anything else.

After a couple of bonuses, the extra income really helped us. After a while, we bought our house and actually seemed to be doing well. Jared had gotten a couple of promotions at work and was now bringing in a lot more money. We traded in his Mustang on a newer and better Mustang. I got a new car as well. We still saved money but it was more like a rainy day fund.

Finally, we began to talk about me giving up my job so we could start having kids. We figured that I'd finish out the year and then give my notice early on in the next year. I was in Chicago having dinner with one of my biggest customers. I wanted to go out on a high note. I wanted to win the highest sales award for that quarter. I'd come close several times before but neither I nor any female salesperson in the company had ever won it.

After dinner, I retired to my room in the hotel with the customer. I was lying there imagining that the 60 year old guy humping away at me was Jared and we were making a baby. "Come on baby give me that juice. Make me a mommy," I said. The old fucker on me was out of breath and really didn't give a fuck what I said, as long as he got some. I could have called him Jared and he wouldn't have blinked.

That was the way I got through the sex. I just closed my eyes and imagined it was Jared. Of course, it never felt as good as it did with Jared but your mind can work wonders. Only that last time, something told me to open my eyes. I did and my world ended. As my eyes focused, I noticed Jared standing there in the open doorway with several of my colleagues and my boss. He had tears running down his cheeks. I tried to push Harvey off of me. He was partially deaf and didn't realize what was going on.

"No!" I screamed.

"Goodbye, Audrey," said Jared. "I loved you."

Even as he turned and walked away, I was pulling myself out from under Harvey's bulk. The reactions of the men still in the room, as I tried to dress and follow Jared were all markedly different.

My boss was livid. He stood there turning redder and redder like an old steam furnace. He was going over the facts in his mind, almost as if he was collecting steam before he blew. The tittering expressions on the faces of my colleagues were also varying. I heard everything from, "I knew there was a reason the cunt was out selling me," to "Hey, we all have our ways of closing a deal."

Just before I left the room for the bathroom I heard, "Shit, I should have been fucking her myself."

Harvey was smiling and high fiving the guys. His new found studliness by far out-weighed any possible damage to his marriage.

As I finished cleaning myself up and threw my clothes into a suitcase, I noticed that all of the guys with the exception of my boss, Darren, had gone.

The pain and despair I'd felt finally also worked its way out of me. It came out in the form of long mournful wails and sobs. I couldn't stop crying no matter what I did. Darren was trying to explain to me how they'd come to be there.

There hadn't been any kind of surveillance on me, there hadn't been an investigation. Darren had discovered that I'd already won the top salesperson award for the quarter. He'd called me to tell me and had forgotten that I was on the road. When he told Jared about the award, Jared had confessed that it would probably be my last trip, since we were going to start our family.

Both Darren and Jared thought that surprising me with a cake and a little ceremony would be a great idea. Only they were the ones who ended up surprised. He told me that I should probably give Jared some time to get over his shock before I started trying to talk to him.

Darren had been married and divorced three times. Wife number four seemed like she'd be the one to stick. He'd been through and seen it all. He'd even been through this once. He tried to explain to me what Jared was feeling or something like it since every person was different. He told me that tomorrow would be soon enough to try to talk to Jared.

He told me to get my story straight and be prepared to be humiliated and to take a lot of shit. He told me that it would probably take some time, but that Jared and I loved each other, so he thought that if we fought hard, we could make it.

He also told me that I was fired. As soon as I was done packing, I checked out and headed for the airport. My flight wasn't scheduled to leave until the next afternoon. I'd missed the last flight out that day by less than a half hour. Unfortunately, Jared had been on it.

When I got back to the hotel, Harvey was sitting and drinking with the guys. I didn't go over to them, I stayed in my room crying and trying to call Jared. He never answered or returned any of my calls. My staying away from the guys didn't stop them from trying to come up to my room though. I was no longer a colleague in their eyes. I was merely a slut. There were no longer any rules of workplace conduct to prevent them from hitting on me.

When I flew out the next day, I'd spent the entire night preparing for my confrontation with Jared. I was prepared to get down on one knee and kiss his ass or whatever else he wanted me to do. I expected him to have changed the locks and changed the garage codes. I tried to get into the garage first. My remote worked on the first try.

I knew then that as angry as he probably was, it wasn't a deal breaker if he still allowed me access to the garage where his precious Mustang was stored for the winter. As the garage opened, my despair deepened. Jared's Mustang was not only gone, in the middle of winter with snow on the ground, which was unheard of. My car was in the garage.

A lot of you won't understand what that means. Jared's car had not only never seen snow, it had never seen rain. Jared only drove that car in the summer on absolutely dry days. The underside of that car and all the rest of it was still showroom new. The car had never been washed in a car wash. He lovingly washed the car every third day, all summer no matter what. It slept all winter in a heated garage and he still washed it to keep dust off of it, even though it was covered.

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