I had just returned from a two week vacation with the bastard better known as my husband. It was really just a last ditch attempt to reconcile our sham of a marriage, but to my thinking, it was just an excuse to get drunk and fuck a lot. To be honest, my husband was great in the sack. It was how he got me to marry him (because he wasn't the best looking guy in the world), but the man certainly knew his way around a woman's body.

The problem was that was all he was good for. He couldn't hold down a decent job. We had absolutely nothing in common beyond the sex. He had no interest in having kids and I had wanted a family. Now in my early thirties, my clock was starting to tick loudly and he had wanted no part of it. I suppose I could have could have learned to live with all of these things, if the bastard did not openly flaunt his infidelities.

All my friends asked me why the bastard would cheat on me. To be honest I did not have a clue. I was a fairly thin, five-eight blond, with big breasts (and I worked out to keep them and the rest of me from sagging). I wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world, but I was probably a close second (ha ha). Most importantly, I loved to fuck and had few inhibitions in the sack.

What I quickly realized was I was not his type. He preferred young, petit dark haired girls like my best friend and fellow waitress Janey. Anyway, once I caught him cheating, I started too as a matter of principle. Still, I found most of my affairs to be pretty unsatisfying. To my partners, I was just a taller version of Marilyn Monroe. They wanted to fuck the shit out of me, regardless of what I would get out of the experience. While I admired their enthusiasm, most sessions left me unfulfilled and needy, falling back helplessly into my bastard husband's arms. The man played me like a concert violist played a Stradivarius and I both loved and hated the sweet music we made.

I walked into the Hollywood Luncheonette, where I worked, and opened my locker. It was not a bad place to go for breakfast or lunch if you like a ten dollar cup of Maxwell House and a couple eggs, a few slices of bacon and a two pieces of dry toast for twenty bucks. I guess PT Barnum was right, because many people continued to show up at the diner. They seemed happy to shell out a king's ransom for mediocre fare and even tip generously, when their hot, celebrity lookalike poured them a Cup O' Joe.

I put on my uniform and adjusted my name tag that read "Marilyn". The owner, Vic, was a pig (I had to blow him just to let me take two weeks off). He made all of us waitresses look and act like celebrities. My best friend Janey was "Mary Ann" from the sixties sitcom, while a cute young redhead named Rachel was "Ginger" from the same show. A cute girl named Jade was labeled "Lucy" after the Asian action hero. He tagged Rosa, a busty Chicana, as "J-Lo". Anyway, as much as I hated all of this, I always got those huge tips. Since the tips and not my hourly wage paid the bills, I put up with it.

When I got to the dining room, I noticed that it was still early. There was only one customer who was at one of Janey's tables. When I looked closely, I could tell that she had been crying and that the man who had to be in his late thirties was stroking her shoulders. I waited for the little tableau to end and then approached her once she headed back to the kitchen.

"What's the matter, Baby?" I asked comfortingly.

"I'm thinking of having an affair with that guy out there."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"Don't act so surprised. You have them."

"Honey, you and Steve have only been married two years. Rich and I have been married almost ten and he is a cheating bastard."

"Steve's cheating on me."

I was in complete shock. "What?!"

"He's cheated on me with at least two women. One of them is Rachel."

"How do you know?"

"She told me. She also told me he said that he is fucking his boss' receptionist too."

"And you believe her?"

"I didn't at first, but then I followed Steve and the girl to where Rachel told me that he took her. I saw them go into the motel room."

"That's awful! What an asshole! And Rachel?! I'm going to give her..."

"Don't blame her, Honey. She told me she did it because she thought he would be the kind to cheat and she was right. Anyway, thank God for Mr. Bloom!"

"Who?"

"He's nice man over there. He was one who told Rachel about Steve and suggested to her that she should investigate. Anyway, since Steve's fucking around, Mr. Bloom asked me if I wanted to use him to get revenge and now I'm seriously thinking about it."

"Baby, isn't he a little bit old for you?"

"I don't care! He's really sweet and kind too. There's even a kind of quiet handsomeness to him..." she murmured.

"Well, I don't see it."

"More importantly, I really like being with him ... being close to him," her eyes took on a far off look.

"Well, if you want to get back at Steve, I'm sure I can find someone better..."

"It's not just that. I can tell he really cares about me. I hear he's an amazing lover..."

"How do you know this?"

"Rachel told me."

"She slept with him?!" I asked in shock.

"Yeah. After she broke up with her boyfriend for sleeping with Jade."

"Her boyfriend slept with Jade!?" I exclaimed, as apparently a lot had happened in the last two weeks in my absence.

"Yeah. Apparently he had been sleeping around on Rachel too."

Something was not right here. While most of the waitresses here were not all that tight with each other, we were all on pretty friendly terms and I never could imagine this kind of drama taking place here. I decided that maybe I should meet this new customer. "I'd like to meet this Mr. Bloom."

"Funny. He just asked me to introduce you to him," she smiled.

"So, I've been hearing an awful lot about you, Becky," he smiled, calling me by my real name, as he took my offered hand.

"You too," I smiled. When I had gotten closer to him, I could see what Janey was talking about in terms of quiet handsomeness. He still had dark hair with no touch of grey. He did not have a bad body. Perhaps a little middle age spread, but I had slept with worse when I had been drunk. He even had a sweet smile and a little twinkle in his eyes. Still, I'd never have given him the time of day if I were sober. Certainly, he had no business doing the horizontal mambo with a twenty-four year old cutie like Janey or especially an even younger hottie like Rachel. "Mr. Bloom, please understand that I mean no disrespect but..."

"You're worried about your friend," he said pausing. "I know what you mean. You're probably right too. While she is a little older than our 'Ginger', 'Mary Ann' is much less experienced. It was probably a bad idea to ask her."

"About Rachel..."

"Don't worry. Rachel is fine. We're just kind of seeing each other right now, but we're not exclusive. It was Rachel who even suggested that I ask Janey if she wanted me to sleep with her as a way of making to up to Janey for her sleeping with Janey's husband."

"Well, you're not really her type."

"I know. I'm not really you're type either, right?"

I kind of smiled shyly. While I was not really attracted to him in a traditional way, I sensed a warmth coming from him. It was a weird kind of feeling of comfort and contentment. "To be honest, no, but I've always had bad taste in men," I joked.

Mr. Bloom laughed. "Thank you for your honesty, dear. If my wife had been more honest about me from the start, we would never have had to endure the tortuous fiasco, I like to refer to as 'our marriage'."

I felt a tear come to my eye, but managed to avoid it from falling. I certainly could empathize with him. "I know what you mean."

"Well, I've given up on monogamy. I've discovered that it just doesn't work."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes. After my wife left me for that bastard, I took a little of the money I had left from our settlement to go to Tibet on a voyage of self-discovery."

"What did you learn?"

"A lot of things," he laughed. "One of the most important things I learned is that I cannot simply find fulfillment in others. I have to find it in myself."

"Sounds kind of lonely," I murmured.

"Not at all. I share that sense of fulfillment with others."

"Like Rachel?"

"Yes. She's a great girl and I think since we connected she's on the right road."

"And Janey?"

"Maybe, though I share your concern that she may not be ready to let go of what she has."

"What do you mean, 'let go'?"

"She's not happy because she has lived kind of a sheltered life. She needs to decide if she's ready for an extreme change."

"You mean like cheating?"

"Among other things," he smiled cryptically. "Oh, I noticed that things are starting to get busy. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble with that bastard boss of yours," he smiled, standing up.

"You know Vic?"

"Better than I care to," he said, giving the first grim expression I had seen him make. "Well it was a pleasure to meet you, Becky. I hope we can be friends."

"I'd like that," I smiled, as he was shaking my hand, before he let go of it and walked away.

It was at the exact moment that I realized that he had been holding my hand the entire time. As he walked away, I started to feel an emptiness wash over me followed by a fog. I quickly shook my head to clear the cobwebs and proceeded to a customer who had just sat down.

The next morning, Mr. Bloom was seated and I saw him talking to Janey. She looked a bit worried as she walked away. I approached her.

"Hey Janey, what's up?"

"I decided that I want to sleep with Mark."

"Mark?"

"Mr. Bloom. The thing is..."

"What?"

"He wants me to do something for him first."

"What? Dump your hubby?"

A strange look came over her face. "Yeah, something like that."

"And you're willing to do that..."

"Yeah ... well ... that part at least," she said with a blush and she walked away.

I was confused, so I walked over to Mr. Bloom's table.

"Hi Becky ... or should I call you 'Marilyn'? You really are looking quite sexy today," he smiled.

"Call me whatever you want, as long as you tip well," I found myself flirting.

"Well, you are quite lovely."

"Thank you. Now about Janey..."

"Yes, Janey was telling me a lot about you this morning," he interrupted. "Please don't be too harsh to her, but she told me that your husband was pond scum."

I wanted to get angry at him for his comment, but he was really quite right. Besides, I had this feeling of wanting to be closer to him, so I sat down next to him since the place was virtually empty. He immediately took my hand and I felt the feeling of warmth and contentment. "Yeah..." I murmured.

"Well, a man like him does not deserve such a lovely, charming and caring woman like yourself."

"Thanks..." I mumbled, lost in the feeling.

"And don't worry about your friend. I think she'll make the right choice," he smiled, as he stood up, let go of my hand and walked away.

As I saw him leave, I felt the feeling of loneliness creep over me. All of a sudden, I understood what Janey saw in him and why she wanted to sleep with him. It wasn't really his physical appearance, but there was something about his presence that made him incredibly attractive. While I was with him, I had felt like I was basking in the sun. When he left, I was in the dead of winter, longing to see him tomorrow.

After work, I decided to go to "Happy Hour", because let's face it: I needed to get happy and I needed help (in form of tequila shots with Corona chasers). I took a lot of free drinks, but nobody I particularly wanted to reward with my charms. Strangely, I did not see Janey. "I guess Mr. Bloom is getting lucky right now," I thought and then suddenly realizing that maybe it was Janey who was the lucky one. Usually Janey gave me a lift home, but tonight I scored a lift with Keisha (AKA "Beyonce"). When I opened the door with my key, I heard some giggling coming from my bedroom. "Fuck, you're hot," came my husband Rich's voice.

"No wonder Becky is still with you. You fuck like a champ!" came another voice, seemingly familiar, but out of context.

"Shit! He's in there with some fucking whore who knows who I am!" I thought, while stumbling to the bedroom door, ready to make a scene. Then all of a sudden, I felt a pair of hands take mine and I looked into a vibrant set of green eyes that shone in the dim light.

"Shhhh ... Everything's fine, Becky," whispered Rachel, as I felt a warm calmness wash over me.

"But..."

"I know it's hard, but you have to let go."

"Shit! You're perfect! You feel so good on my cock, Baby!" moaned my husband's voice. "You're husband's a fool to cheat on you!"

"You're cheating on Becky," came a voice that I now recognized as my best friend.

"That's different. She fucks around on me too. But if you were mine..."

"You'd probably fuck around on me too."

"Maybe ... but not as much."

"Janey..." I whispered feeling a mixture of calm tinged with sadness.

"She didn't want to do it, but Mark told her that it was for your own good and that she'd be helping you. That is what Jade did to me and what Rosa did to Jade. Rosa helped me come to terms with what Jade did to me the way that Jade helped Janey come to terms with what I did to her."

"Now you're helping me?" I asked.

"You bet, Honey. We're all important to Mark. Ultimately, he wants to be sure we're all happy."

I was momentarily distracted by a sound that I knew really well and one I did not. "Ohhhhh ... Shit!" screamed Rich.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh Fuck meeeeee!" screamed an obviously climaxing Janey.

"You hear how loud she's screaming?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah..." I asked in a subdued voice.

"She'll be screaming louder and cumming harder in about an hour," said Rachel.

After hiding in the kitchen and hearing Rachel lead an excited Janey out to her car, I crawled into the bedroom, climbed next to my passed out bastard of a hubby and passed out myself.

In the morning, I dragged my hung-over body into the shower and prettified myself for work. After buying an industrial strength/sized coffee from a nearby coffee shop, I dragged my sorry ass into work.

When I walked in, I saw Janey wearing the biggest smile I had ever seen. I just scowled at her.

"Don't be so mad, my dear." came the voice of Mark Bloom, as I felt his hand take mine and I calmed down.

"But my husband..."

"Come on, Ms. Monroe ... do you really love Mr. DiMaggio that much?"

"He's probably more like Arthur Miller," I cracked a more relaxed smile.

"See? No real loss."

"He was a good playwright."

"But I heard a terrible lover."

"And I hear you're an amazing one."

"One doesn't like to brag," he smirked.

"Well, my hubby is an amazing lover too," I protested.

"But a lousy excuse of a man. You need someone to satisfy your soul too."

"And you can do that?"

"I can and I would be willing to do it."

"But Janey..." I started.

"Do you know why Janey's so happy?"

"It sounded like she got the shit fucked out of her by my hubby, Rich."

"She did, but that's not why she's happy."

"Then why is she happy?"

"Because she gave herself to me last night."

"What about her husband?"

"She called him from my place last night and asked for a divorce."

I knew I should have been shocked by all of this, but for some reason any surprise or outrage was being muted by this strange sense of calm that I felt when I was in his presence ... and in Rachel's presence in my living room last night. I was also feeling something else ... that strange warmth. This time it was radiating in my groin. I was awoken from my aroused daze by his voice.