Hey Folks. Here's another story of woe and regret. Again I'm blessed to have Barney-R editing it. This one is shorter since some of you like that. Let's see how it goes.
It's said that every criminal deserves his day in court. I was facing the first of two. This first one would be the hardest. Although I wasn't the star of this one, I was very involved. My loving wife had the distinction of being the focus of this investigation. Nearly everyone in town had gathered to see a civil suit. It was a severe impairment suit brought about by the wife of the victim. She alleged that my wife was directly responsible for the loss of her husband's ability to function normally and or earn an income and provide for his family.
The DA was sure that he couldn't get a conviction on murder charges or even assault charges against Tammy, so he hadn't filed any charges. That had angered Samantha to the point that she decided to sue Tammy for the loss of her husband's ability to function.
Two women who were once, if not the best of friends, at least cordial ones, were now arguing tooth and nail over what happened to the asshole that one of them used to be married to. My wife Tammy claimed that what had happened to Bob had been a terrible and tragic accident that she herself was in no way responsible for. Samantha on the other hand maintained that it was Tammy's fault that Bob was in a place that he never should have been in. She also maintained that Tammy was directly responsible not only for pushing Bob into the place he ended up, but for negligence in maintaining a safe environment in said place.
What neither of them realized was that what happened to Bob wasn't exactly an accident. It had been forseen and calculated if not planned or executed. The random nature of the incident was what made it so brilliant. I had my own opinions on who was at fault. I believe that Bob himself was directly responsible for what happened to him. And I myself was indirectly responsible, since I had actually set those random events in motion. I was not a suspect though. And I was keeping my mouth shut.
I was there to provide some insight into the device that led to what happened to Bob. I got out of my Black 2012 Mustang in the parking lot adjacent to the courthouse. There was a crowd of people already gathered there. I noticed the District Attorney and one of his assistants walking towards the courthouse as I summoned the courage to brave the crowd. I thought it was interesting that in this case, the DA had declined to forward charges, waiting to see what happened in the civil suit. Usually the process went the other way.
I saw an older couple moving quickly towards me. The man grabbed my shoulder and turned me around to face him.
"Dave you have to help her," he said. "I don't know what happened to her. She sure isn't the little girl I raised, but she's still the woman you married. I think it was a hormone imbalance or temporary insanity that led to it. But despite all of that, she loves you. She has maintained that throughout this nightmare."
"I'm not sure what I should do or even what I CAN do Mr. Miller," I said to him. He looked hurt. "I'm not really here to say anything about Tammy. From what I understand, I'm only going to be answering questions about the device. Besides that I have to be very careful what I say about Tammy personally because my words, if entered into the public record as part of this trial could affect my divorce." He looked as if I had punched him in the gut without warning.
"So things have gotten that bad?" he asked sadly. "When did I become MISTER MILLER instead of DAD?" It was a really awkward moment and for a second neither of us knew what to say.
"Her lawyer may have decided to ask you a few personal questions in reference to Tammy's character and personality. Since I'm warning you about them, you could instruct your friend's lawyer to allow them, or just to allow a couple of them before he objects," he said. "And as far as this divorce goes, it's really bullshit. There shouldn't be a divorce. The two of you should be going to counseling and working on putting this whole tragic incident behind you." He looked around as we both noticed the couple walking towards us at the same time.
"I think that you should walk into that courtroom and sit beside her," he continued. "I know that right now you're still shocked and hurt and angry about this whole thing, but dammit Dave, you have to put your petty feelings and ego aside here and stand by your woman."
"Are you harassing a witness?" asked a deeper voice. My soon to be ex-father in law was interrupted by another older man. This one also had his wife with him. "Leave him alone and just let justice prevail," said the newcomer. "Maybe I should alert the judge that you were out here trying to influence the witness to help your murderous whore of a daughter. Dave is the victim here. He's better off without that bitch."
Tammy's dad turned and punched the other man, Bob's dad, in the face. Within seconds the two sixty plus year old men were fighting and rolling on the ground in the parking lot while their wives hissed and spat at each other. I turned and continued towards the courthouse as the building's security squad descended on the scene and separated the combatants.
When I finally made it into the courtroom, Tammy's lawyer directed me to the bench where she sat. I shook my head and walked across to a seat in the third row of the opposite side. Two rows ahead of me, I saw a waterfall of crimson curls as Samantha took her seat.
Within a few moments the trial began. The lawyers postured and sparred as they went about presenting their cases. Samantha's lawyer started out by talking about Bob. He was described as a very popular local business owner and man of the people. The lawyer painted a picture of a Bob that made him seem nearly saint-like.
Then Tammy's lawyer refuted all of the accolades that his opponent had presented. He painted Bob as an evil and conniving sexual predator who lured unsuspecting women into kinky and bizarre sexual machinations while ignoring his own wife. He also threw in the fact that Samantha's sexual frigidity may have been what spurred Bob to pursue his extra-curricular relationships. He maintained that Samantha knew what Bob did and often threw other women to the wolves herself, so she didn't have to participate.
The reporters from the local and a few state and national papers were having a field day with the suggestive legal fireworks. They would undoubtedly sell an unbelievable number of papers before the case was over.
I wasn't called to testify for over an hour. My lawyer had arrived by then, and I told him about Mr. Miller's request. "Hell no," he spat. He ducked low, supposedly so he wouldn't distract anyone from Tammy's lawyer's soliloquy. He whispered something to Samantha's lawyer who nodded and whispered back.
Although, I wasn't on trial here, my lawyer had decided to come for the trial. He wanted to be here to prevent me from doing anything to hinder my efforts to divorce Tammy. He and Samantha's lawyer had shared information since Sam was also divorcing Bob.
I stepped up towards the witness stand and was sworn in. Tammy's lawyer made a big show of smiling at me as he came over to me.
"Can you state your name for the court and describe your relationship with the defendant and the unfortunate Mr. Enthrust?" he asked.
"My name is David Pike," I said calmly. "I was ... I am currently married to Tammy Pike. Bob Enthrust is my neighbor, golf buddy and until recently my friend."
"You've heard Mr. Enthrust described two different ways. To some he was described as being an angel and to others, he was close to being the devil himself. How did you feel about him?" he asked.
"Objection!" yelled Samantha's lawyer.
"On what grounds?" asked the judge.
"The witness is obviously hostile towards Mr. Enthrust because of the illicit nature of the relationship between Mr. Enthrust and Mrs. Pike," said Sam's lawyer.
"Sustained," said the judge.
Tammy's lawyer backed off and began another line of questioning. "Mr. Pike do you recognize this implement?" he asked me.
I looked at it. "Yes," I said. "I believe that I made it."
"How did you come to make it and when did you do so?" he asked.
"I guess I did it because I love Tammy," I said. I paused and shook my head. I squeezed my hands together while gritting my teeth. "What I meant to say is that I LOVED Tammy. So when she took up gardening, along with half of the women in our neighborhood, I wanted to support her hobby. One of her biggest problems was weeding in between smaller plants. And there were places that a rake or a hoe were simply too large. There was also the problem that we needed a lot of leverage. Being an engineer, I like to tinker so I went into our small shed to find one of our garden tools that I could modify to do the job. We are one of the few houses in our neighborhood that has a separate garage and shed.
We needed the shed to store lawn and garden supplies. I hate keeping that crap near my Mustang. Especially because Tammy is a great wife ... well ... I thought she was. But she tended to be kind of disorganized and a little sloppy. So I just figured that keeping my car stuff and the garden stuff separate was a good idea. It saved a lot of arguments. So anyway that day I stepped into the shed and almost knocked myself out.
I remember opening the door and there was a blinding flash of intense pain. I don't think I was truly knocked out but I was dazed and definitely knocked on my ass. It turned out that as usual Tammy had been remiss in putting her toys away. As I stepped into the shed, I stepped on the upturned end of a rake. The shaft had smacked me in the face.
Anyway, what I came up with a few days later was to take the rake and drill hole across the shaft at the opposite end. I mounted a long thin spike through the hole. I showed Tammy and some of the women in the neighborhood how to use it the next day. I called it "Pike's Pick," kind of like the car race. Anyway I made a few more of them for a couple of the other women in the neighborhood. And until a few weeks ago, I never thought about it again."
"So when was the last time you saw the one you made for your wife ... I mean your ex-wife?" Ne asked.
"Probably about a month ago," I said. I was tense for a couple of seconds as he looked at me and decided not to try to use me as a character witness for Tammy.
As I looked at the shaft of the rake and the gleaming spike that jutted from it, a chill went down my spine.
"I thought about trying to market it and even took one over to the local garden store, but they had too many ideas of how to alter it or improve it. And they all wanted me to do all of the work and give them most of the profits. One of those suggestions was to take the rake head off of the other end. And now, thinking back on it; that might have been a good suggestion. But, I just gave up on it. Tammy still had one and she used it in the garden a lot, but I lost interest in it."
"So how would you describe your ex wife? Is she an emotional person or... ?" he began. Before he could ask me anything else my lawyer again piped up.
"Objection," he said. "My client is currently in the process of divorcing his ex. Anything he says for or against her can be used against him in that case. It is also very unethical to ask a witness to answer questions like that during a time of deep emotional upheaval.
"He's here as an expert witness," spat Tammy's lawyer. "The two things he's an expert on are this thingie, and his wife. And we're done talking about the thingie."
As they argued I thought about his question. What kind of woman was Tammy?
When I first ran into Tammy, I was working my ass off in college. We were about the same age, but she didn't go to school. I had seen her around the campus at several parties, but she was an enigma to me. She made minimum wage working in a fast food restaurant near the school. I wondered what kind of woman knew most of the people our age in the school, but didn't consider going there herself?
Tammy was also pretty difficult to describe. She taught me a lot about grading a woman's looks. Tammy wasn't exactly what I'd call beautiful, but she wasn't a dog either. I guess I'd describe her as cute. I thought she wasn't the kind of woman who would ever stop traffic, but then too she also wouldn't stop a clock.
I think the main reason that some lucky guy hadn't scooped Tammy up already, was because she had kind of a reputation of being easy. She wasn't a slut by any means. She wasn't one of those girls who show up at a party, and go straight up to the rooms and fuck every guy who comes into her room. But it was pretty much established that if you took her out on a date, you were almost guaranteed to get laid.
She had dated and fucked a lot of my friends. I had even gone out on double dates with her as the date of some of my best friends it got to the point where we knew each other pretty well. Most of my friends that had dated her had no complaints. Some of them dated her several times. Others dated her off and on for long periods of times. All of them smiled when they mentioned her name.
Tammy had short brown hair back then. She's let it grow out over the past few years to the point that it's about shoulder length. She's short and while she isn't fat, she isn't thin either. Her waist is a little thicker than optimal, but not thick enough to be jiggly or off putting. Her legs are pretty thick too, but in the right light they're sexy. She has a big rounded butt and big breasts too and they're her best assets.
Because of those big jugs and big butt, Tammy stands above the girls that most men would consider plain and although she isn't pretty, she is sexy. There are times when a man will walk right by a pretty woman to get to a sexy one. So although Tammy very rarely had what anyone would call a boyfriend, she never lacked for male company.
There were times when we'd see each other and smile or wave, just to be polite, but for the first three years that I was in college, Tammy and I never dated. My last year though, that changed. It was on one of those rare weekend nights that Tammy didn't have a date. She decided to go to a party on campus that one of the frats was throwing. When Tammy showed up unescorted, one of the frat guys got the idea to hustle her up the stairs and into one of the rooms. He even tried to strong arm her up the back stairs.
Tammy called to me when she saw me. The look of fear on her face told me everything I needed to know. "Hey, Bart, Tammy's with me," I said. I couldn't think of anything else to say and Bart was huge. He was the Center on our football team. Bart was the biggest corn fed Iowa farm boy I have ever seen. Even today I'm pretty sure that I could probably use one of his old shirts as a car cover for my Mustang.
He just smiled and nodded at me, giving me the thumbs up sign and turned to look for another girl to take upstairs.
I just nodded at Tammy and went back to the main room. Tammy followed me. I was just about to ask another girl to dance, when I felt a hand on my arm.
"Dave, I'm here with you, remember?" she said. "If you start dancing with other girls, that gorilla will come back and try to force me to go upstairs to be one of their pincushions. So tonight, you're stuck with me."
She'd smiled as she said it and although I didn't consider Tammy, my type, I nodded, thinking that no good deed goes unpunished. The night went better than I expected. Tammy was easy to talk to and we were very comfortable with each other from the start. That was probably a combination of two factors: the first being that we had been on several dates with each other although not as each other's dates. And the second was that once again, I didn't think that Tammy was my type so there was no pressure for me to try to impress her.
We ended up having a great time. It made me wonder why I had never dated her. And just to show that we were on the same page, when we got ready to leave she looked at me.
"Dave, why didn't we ever date?" she asked. She had a very serious look on her face and her hand on my arm. It was almost as if she was desperate.
"Maybe it just wasn't in the cards," I said lightly. "But that doesn't mean it has to stay that way. Tammy would you like to go out sometime?"
"No!" she said with that very same serious look. "Dave, I don't want to go out "sometime." I want to go out with you tomorrow night." Then she looked down at her watch. "Actually it's after midnight so I mean tonight."
That evening was our first date. We ran into a friend of mine who was out on a first date with a new girl. He smiled and nodded at me but I had no idea why. He asked if we wanted to double, but Tammy quickly told him that we were doing something with her parents.
"Dave, I wanted to go out with you, ALONE," she said. "I don't want to go to a club. I don't want to go to a party. I just want the two of us to get to know each other, better. And we did. We saw a movie together. It was one of those blood and guts horror movies. I let Tammy pick it and I think she chose that movie just so she could grab onto me and hold my hand. My arm spent so much time between those big soft breasts that I had a hardon throughout the movie. Then we had dinner in a small intimate restaurant and finished up with a walk along the river.
We ended up back at my place where we exchanged lots of soft wet kisses. Before I knew it, I found myself in the warmest most willing pussy I had ever been in. Maybe it wasn't the tightest, but the way Tammy moved more than made up for it.
I knew then that things had changed. The first time we had sex that night was wild and crazy. Tammy literally let me do anything I wanted and she responded in kind. The movements of her hips mesmerized me and I had never cum that hard in my life. But the second time was the one that blew my mind. That time we didn't fuck, we made love.
Our mouths and tongues were entwined and we hugged our bodies together as our organs joined in a very sensual, very slow rhythm. It wasn't very fast; there was no frenzied movement, no bodies slamming together with speed or force; just a slow, unhurried pumping that went very deep. When we both came, her hungry pussy swallowed every drop and it was as if we could tell what each other was thinking. It was after midnight and Tammy got out of bed.
Seeing her boobs jiggling and swinging as she walked towards the pile of her clothes on the floor started my dick, rising all over again. The movement of her ass as it swayed back and forth and then spread as she bent over the pile of clothes, made me want to be inside of her all over again. She fumbled around in her clothes, found her phone, and made a call.
"Yeah mom," she said. "It's me. Lisa and Brandon got into a really big fight. She's all broken up about it. I'm going to spend the night with her and come home tomorrow. I love you too, Mom."
Then she padded her way back across the floor and got back in bed with me. We started gently kissing again and fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms.
Over the next few weeks, things got complicated between Tammy and I. Several of my friends noticed that I was dating Tammy and commented on how much I was probably enjoying it.
My best friend Jeff Thomas even told me to let him know when I was done with her because he missed fucking her. He started talking about some of the things he'd done with her and heard about her doing. It started me to wondering exactly what I was getting into. On one hand I was beginning to really fall for Tammy. But on the other hand she kind of seemed like a real slut.
Tammy noticed the difference in my mood and asked about it.
"David, what's wrong?" she asked.
"Tammy, I know that you love me," I began. She went into shock. We had never told each other about our feelings. That was almost a huge mistake on my part. I almost let a cat out of the bag that I probably wouldn't have been able to put back in.
"I never said that," she blurted out angrily. "When you assume..." But she never finished her statement. She just looked up at me in confusion. "Davie, are you some sort of psychic?"
"It doesn't matter, because I think I love you too," I said. "But I keep hearing things from my friends and..."
"You're worried about being seen with the town whore, right?" she spat, almost in tears.
"You're right Davie. Guys talk about me. I've dated a lot of guys. I've had sex with a lot of guys. I like sex. You certainly don't seem to mind fucking me. Why is it that a guy who screws around is a stud, but a girl who does the same thing is a slut?" She looked at me with tears running down her face.
"Okay, Davie, I get it," she said. "You're tired of fucking me too. You want someone new or maybe no one at all. So as a way to get away from me, you're throwing my past in my face. I wish I could throw yours at you, but the girls you've dated all told me how nice you are. Not that I needed them to tell me that. But I'll make it easy on you. You don't have to date me anymore and I'll let everyone know that it wasn't your fault. And if you ever..."
"If you ever shut up, maybe we could talk about this," I said putting my hand over her mouth.
"Tammy, I don't care about the past," I said. "I'm worried about the future."
She just looked at me strangely. "What future? Can you see the future? Is that another one of your psychic abilities?"
"Our future, Tammy!" I said.
"You still want to date me?" she asked. She wiped away the tears and her smile lit up the room.
"No, Tammy," I said. "I don't think that will work."
"Oh," she said almost in tears again. I began to see how much control I had over her emotions. I realized then that she really did love me as much as I already knew.
"Tammy, I was thinking that maybe you and I should be exclusive. And that maybe when I graduate in a few months we should get engaged, but I'm kind of worried about..." Before I could finish talking she was in my lap and had her arms wrapped around me.
"But I'm kind of worried about..." I was able to slip in between kisses.
"Stop worrying," she said kissing me again. "Davie, I would never cheat on you. I've never cheated on anyone. I've never been in a relationship with any of the guys I dated. We went out, we had sex. As a matter of fact I want you to think about something. Of all the guys I dated, have you ever heard about me screwing any guy while I was dating another?"
I had to admit that I hadn't.
"Of course you haven't because I've never done it," she chirped. "And Davie, there's something special about you. You're my first boyfriend. The rest were just guys I dated with no strings. But you're also the first guy I've ever spent the night with. Every other guy, I just had sex with, and then he went his way and I went mine. When the sex was over there was no reason to be around them.
But with you Davie, I dream of just lying there in your arms. I love waking up with you. Ask all of your friends if I ever actually slept with any of them."
It made sense. It was probably the reason that I knew the things I knew.
She was looking at me with a sort of desperation in her eyes. "I believe you," I said.
"So, I'm officially your girlfriend?" she asked excitedly. I smiled and nodded. "And I can tell people and everything?"
"Yes," I said smiling.
"Are you ready for the test?" she asked.
"What test?" I asked.
"There are three parts," she said. She pulled her sweatshirt over her head and lifted her big breasts out of her bra. "Suck these," she said. I passed the first part of the test with flying colors. For the second part of the test she sucked my dick until I was dying to cum, but she wouldn't let me.
For the final part of the test she wrapped he legs around my waist and fucked me like crazy. Tammy and I had sex pretty often. She was always spending the night with me after our dates, but that day we broke new ground. It was also the first time we tried anal sex.
I was sure it was painful for her. So I tried to stop, but she insisted. "I need you to have something that no one else has ever had," she said.
"Tammy, Honey, I already do," I said. She looked at me again. "I have your heart," I told her.
"And you have the rest of me too, Davie," she said. "I am your property. I belong to you from now on. I had to fuck a lot of frogs to find you, but I found my prince. I'm not going to do anything to break us up."
There were some people who were very happy for us. Tammy's parents seemed to be ecstatic. I was the first man she had ever brought home to meet them. I think that both her mom and her dad had heard rumors about her around town and seeing her in what seemed to be a stable relationship made them feel better.
Her closest girl friends were also happy for her if not a little bit surprised. That surprise was magnified when she abruptly stopped going to parties or anywhere without me. She didn't even go out on their girl's nights. "Why the hell would I want to?" she asked. "The whole point of girl's nights is to go out and meet some guys. I've got mine."
There were also a few girls who weren't quite as happy for her. They included some of the girls I had dated and few others who thought of Tammy as a slut and didn't think she deserved a good guy.
But by far the most upset about us were my friends, including my best friend Jeff. A group of them spoke to me at school about it.
"What the hell are you thinking, Dave?" asked Jeff. He seemed to be the spokesperson for the group. "Tammy isn't the kind of girl you want to get tied down to. You date her for a while and then you move on to someone more suitable. Then someone else has her. Or if you're between relationships, Tammy is your girl."
"Maybe that's the way it was," I said. "But it's not the way it is. From now on, Tammy is all mine."
"That slut will cheat on you the first chance she gets," he said.
"Jeff, we've been friends since we were wearing short pants," I said. "And I appreciate your concern, but don't call her a slut again."
"I'll call that whore a slut or anything..." He abruptly stopped talking when my fist hit his jaw. Jeff and I had come to blows a few times over the years. We were both fairly athletic. I ran track and cross country and Jeff was a serious baseball player with aspirations of becoming a pro. My first punch had rung his bell and Jeff was loopy. He was also enraged.
"You thelfith thon ob ah visch," he screamed. I guess having his jaw rapidly swelling up had affected his ability to properly enunciate his curse words. He swung at me wildly but my starting gun honed reflexes from all of those track meets helped me. I sidestepped and Jeff punched the brick wall behind me so hard that I swore the building moved.
Jeff started screaming in pain and jumping up and down holding onto his right arm. "Get him," he said to the other three guys who'd come with him. They looked confused and then took off running. Both of them apparently had better sense than Jeff did. As the three guys disappeared, I turned back to Jeff who was writhing on the ground in pain. I picked him up and hustled him over to my aging bit still powerful 1988 Mustang. That car was my first. It got me all the way from getting my license at 16, to graduating from college. My parents had bought it for me used, but I had never cared. I loved that car.
Jeff was so out of it that he barely understood what was going on. I drove him to the hospital on campus. I filled out his registration card in the emergency room and called his parents. I also called the baseball coach.
As it turned out, nothing happened to either of us. Originally, I was suspended from the track team for fighting and Jeff and the other three guys were suspended from the baseball team. The other three guys had their suspensions lifted because they showed good judgment in refusing to take part in the fight. My suspension was lifted, because I had showed leadership qualities in putting the fight behind me and taking Jeff to the hospital.
Jeff's suspension was lifted because he was off the team. Jeff had shattered three finger on his pitching hand and destroyed something called the metacarpophalangeal joints on the same three fingers. He also had a fracture of several of the bones in his wrist, and a spiral fracture of his radius and a posterior dislocation of his shoulder joint. It took four surgeries and a bunch of rods and pins to put Jeff's pitching arm back together. According to the doctors he would regain a very fragile but almost normal use of the arm eventually but with certain limitations. I thank the heavens that I moved, because with all the damage Jeff did to his hand and arm, I could just imagine what he would have done to me if that blow had landed.
Unfortunately one of those limitations was that Jeff would never throw a baseball again. He would also have to rethink his career, because baseball had been Jeff's true focus. Most of his classes had been geared towards that and a career in physical training as a fall back. Since Jeff wouldn't be able to lift anything heavier than seven pounds without damaging his right arm. He would also be limited to activities with his right hand that didn't require a lot of fine motor control. Even Jeff's signature changed.
It took a long time for Jeff and I to get over it. I often wondered why Jeff wanted to fuck Tammy so badly that he tried to hit me hard enough to kill me over it. It was hard to imagine your best friend literally trying to kill you over something or someone that didn't belong to him.
I finally found out years later that Tammy had been Jeff's first. And that whenever he was between girlfriends, he always ended up back in her bed. At the time of our fight, Jeff had been publicly dumped by one of the cheerleaders. So he'd been humiliated and he was very horny at a time when Tammy was unavailable. His anger and his hormones had combined to make him crazy enough to try to kill me and end up killing his career.
Things buzzed along for Tammy and me as if they were fated. A lot of guys thought that I was a fool and so did a lot of the women, but I knew that Tammy loved me. I also knew that I would know if she ever cheated on me. I in fact knew something about Tammy that no one else knew.
Tammy and I got engaged as scheduled on the day that I graduated. And less than a year later we were married.
Married life for Tammy and me was great. I got a job as a construction site manager and worked my ass off to provide Tammy with everything she wanted. By the time we'd been married for seven years we moved into the nicest house we'd ever had. We met and knew most of our neighbors, but our best friends lived directly across the street.
Bob Enthrust was a guy who at forty seemed to have life by the balls. Over the next few years, Bob became the friend that I had lost after the incident with Jeff. We golfed together. We fished. We hunted. And we had a lot of barbecues. Our wives became friendly too. But they were never as close as Bob and I.
Bob and I had a lot in common, but we had a lot of differences too. Bob always wanted to be seen and admired. He wanted things. He always wanted the best of everything. Bob was proud of the fact that unlike me, he owned the business he worked for. Bob had a chain of printing stores and the dream of taking his chain national or even worldwide.
I worked for a large building company. I had degrees in architecture and building construction but worked for someone else as an engineer and site manager. To Bob appearance was everything. He drove an aging and unreliable Bentley that he'd gotten at an estate sale. The car had once been beautiful, but Bob could barely maintain it. The parts and service fees for the car were immense. I drove a brand new 2014 Mustang GT. I loved my car although Bob looked down on it. But despite what he claimed. I saw him secretly glancing at it several times. And he always noticed when people complimented it.
Our wives were also different in their approaches. Tammy was a stay at home housewife. Bob's wife Samantha was a secretary.
The only time that I remembered anything odd happening between us was about six months ago. It was right after Tammy and I celebrated our seventh year of marriage. We were out on the deck behind our house and Bob asked me if I had ever given any thought to swinging.
"Swinging what?" I asked. "Is this another pitch for us to take golf lessons at the club? Shit Bob, we play golf for fun. I'm not paying a hundred bucks to have some has been golf pro watch me with a golf club and tell me what's wrong with my swing. If any of those guys were any good, they'd still be playing on the pro circuit. So why do I want to swing a golf club like some guy that lost?"
"Not that kind of swinging, Dave," he said. "You know;, the kind where we pick a night or two each week where you turn left and pull into my driveway and I turn right and pull into yours. Then we go into each other's houses and do what comes naturally."
"Bob, are you out of your mind?" I said. "Tammy would never go for that and neither would Samantha. Samantha had gone home a while before that because she had to be up to go to work the next morning.
But when I looked at Tammy, I got a surprise. "Honey, I told you a long time ago that I loved you and I'm your property. I'll do whatever you want me to."
"Well, I don't want you to do that," I spat. "Bob, I think it's time for you to go home." I was pissed. It just seemed like I was about to lose another friend. It just seemed like every guy I knew wanted to fuck Tammy. In Bob's case it made no sense. Samantha was beautiful. In terms of pure aesthetics she was far more attractive than Tammy. Bob was a fool.
All kinds of things went through my head that night as Tammy and I settled into bed. I remembered the song they had played at our wedding reception. The one song that I picked for people to dance to was part joke and part confession. Tammy knew that as a boy growing up in Royal Oak, Michigan, I had taken guitar lessons at Music Castle on Woodward Ave. My guitar teacher was Mike Skill who used to play in a band called the Romantics.
So when I had them play "Talking in your Sleep," at our wedding reception, everyone thought it was a nod to my youth, but there was more to it. That song was running through my mind as we went to bed. "When you close your eyes and you go to sleep. And it's down to the sound of a heartbeat I can hear the things that you're dreaming about. When you open up your heart and the truth comes out."
The lyrics of the song went through my mind and as Tammy fell asleep, I concentrated on staying awake. It wasn't that I didn't need sleep. I had another hard day on the construction site ahead of me. But I needed confirmation more. And after an hour or so, I heard Tammy begin mumbling. "You tell me that you want me. You tell me that you need me." You tell me that you love me. And I know that I'm right. 'Cause I hear it in the night."
I listened closely and heard the words I needed to hear from Tammy's own lips.
"Love you, Davie," she mumbled. "Love you so much. Don't be angry. Backed into a pole and busted my tail lights. Love you Davie.
I was pissed. Tammy had told me that some kid had backed into her car and damaged her tail lights and had driven off before she could get his license plate number. Our insurance had gone up when I filed the claim. But I was far happier that nothing was going on except that. I fell asleep with the jangling sounds of the Romantics' guitar riff playing in my mind. "I hear the secrets that you keep. When you're talking in your sleep." I hear the secrets that you keep. When you're talking in your sleep."
I felt so much better. I wrapped my arms around Tammy and she sighed contentedly as I joined her in sleep. From the first night that Tammy fell asleep with me in my apartment, I had noticed something about her. I guess it hadn't gotten around because as Tammy had told me, I might not have been the first guy she fucked, but I was the only one she had ever slept with. That was probably why I was the only person who seemed to know that my wife talked in her sleep. Every one of us lies, hides the truth, or just bends it a little. Tammy was no different. But whatever was on her mind, be it good bad or in-between came out while she slept. And it came directly from her subconscious. There were no lies and no half truths. Things that Tammy would never tell a soul were there for the taking. I knew far more about Tammy than she would ever tell me.
So that night I was ecstatic that the only things she had to say was that as usual she loved me and that she had torn up her own tail lights and lied about it. Tammy had lied about it because she had a habit of running into things when she drove. Tammy was a terrible driver. It was why as much as I loved her, there was no way Tammy would ever drive my Mustang.
A couple of days later on a bright and beautiful Saturday morning, Tammy came over to me while I was washing my car. "Honey, I need your help in the garden," she said. "And I'm willing to pay for it."
When Tammy said, "pay for it," we both knew that she was talking about something sexual. That was the way that Tammy always wanted to do everything. The two of us had more sex than any couple I knew. As we'd gotten older Tammy's sex drive had gone through the roof. Not that I ever complained about it. She never wanted to do anything weird or kinky, she was just happy to be there in my arms. But she used sex as currency for everything, changing a light bulb that she couldn't reach, to giving her a kiss. That one always seemed silly to me. "Davie, come over here and give me a kiss," she'd say. "I'm willing to pay for it."
So I followed her to the garden that she had put in behind our garage. The garden was more a hobby for Tammy than anything else. It was something that she could do outdoors, usually while I puttered around, working on my a Mustang. But it was also a social thing for her. And that day there were a couple of our neighbors who also had gardens who'd come over to help her.
"I brought my hubby, he's a genius," she said to the ladies who stood there with cold glasses of lemonade. They were staring at the ground around a couple of plants and a lot of weeds. After they talked about the problem of clearing the weeds and aerating the areas between the small delicate plants and the difficulty of doing it with a full sized rake, I suggested one of those smaller handheld tools. They immediately discarded that idea because they couldn't get enough leverage with the smaller ones to break through the hard packed clay.