Roswell Fanatics

Divorce



Divorce



Title: Divorce
Author: ken_r AKA ken242 AKA Kenneth Renouard

Rating: Adult because of themes

Disclaimer: All the Roswell characters are borrowed for purposes of making a story. No claim is made for any of them. There are many reasons for divorce. Sexual incompatibility and infidelity are only two. For the purposes of this story, these are the ones we shall consider. As with all my writing, this is a collection of stories, observations and research I have made over the years. I do not want to open up old wounds of readers, nor do I want to pretend any wise advice in how to stay married. I just want to investigate the insecurities of two people and where those insecurities led them.

Genera: Alternate Universe without aliens, although aliens might have the same problems.

Couples: Conventional

Summary: If you are a person, so sure of themselves, that you have no insecurities, you will not enjoy or understand this story. If your mind has never played, ‘What if?’ when confronted with domestic blunders, you won’t understand this couple. For the rest of us, maybe you can appreciate the perfect couple, being subjected to rumors, innuendos and down right lies. They get a divorce. First, they blame each other. Then, reality sets in and they start to wonder if they individually share blame. They repeatedly ask themselves, “What if I had done this or that?” Like many young people, they center their frustrations on sex. Were they good enough lovers to hold onto their marriage? They date, learn and finally, join a chat line for lonely people. Of course, the computer chooses them as perfect chat partners. They remain anonymous to each other, but they chat about their problems, their fears, and their experiences being single. They discuss their insecurities as they go about the dating world.

Since most of the readers are women may, I offer this. All boys are not born with a permanent hard on. If they are not into the locker-room vulgarities, many boys have a hard time understanding that nice girls are not like the boy’s mother told him they should be. Nice girls want love just like any other girl. In fact unless they are mean or hateful, all girls are nice. Many “nice” girls have a very difficult times coping with many of the immature boys. Many of the fanciful tales of sexual prowess of young men in high school are just wet dreams gone wild.

Dreamer insurance is guaranteed, but, “Everyone pays for it in the end, somehow!”

I wish to thank, destinyc for her help getting the first few chapters going, Janetfl for encouraging me in starting this story and always Carole, my wife, for editing my grammar and giving me her opinion on the female parts.

Divorce

Max

“You cheating bastard,” she screamed, as I fled out the door. I had to duck several times to dodge the kitchenware that she threw at me. As a coffee cup went flying by my head, I wished I had never encouraged her to join that softball team. There were many other words that she shouted. I never knew that she had ever heard that kind of language, much less that she would use it. I don’t know what her problem was. I was the one offended. She was the one “they said” was stepping out with that jailbird, Sean.

I had come home early that day, meaning to talk things out. If I wasn’t enough for her, I wanted her to tell me what more I could do. Was our sex life that bad? If so, then I was willing to see a therapist. Was I not communicating enough with her? Then, I was willing to talk it out with a marriage counselor.

Five years ago our marriage was made in heaven. When I addressed her that night for the first time, like a general standing before his troops, I wanted to know her and let her know me. I was hoping for a long life together. I thought that no one was as lucky as I. While slipping that beautiful gown off her body, I almost forgot to breathe. The gown itself was enough to, almost, make me lose my wad. You could almost see through it. The weave was heaver just over the breasts and at the place of cupid’s folly. I could just see a tiny bit of her dark pubic hair peeking out at me. Standing for my inspection was affecting her also. Her nipples were hardening under the gown. They were now stretching the gown as if trying to get out.

The most memorable thing about Liz was her large, brown eyes. They were windows into her soul and to every emotion she held. True, when she was screaming at me, I was sure that they were shooting fire. When I removed her gown that wedding night, and every night thereafter of our marriage, those liquid brown eyes would look at me with childlike wonder. Then, as we gazed on each other, they would brighten as they showed a desire every bit as strong as my own.

My shorts had been, almost bursting with my desire. I had opened my arms to her and she slowly came to me. As I took her in my arms, that small body showed it housed a heart bigger than I could imagine. I had felt it pounding in her small chest as my arms were wrapped around her and I pulled her against me.

We had been a couple through part of high school. Our one brief and feeble attempt at love, I now, could look back on with embarrassment. Neither of us knew what we were doing. It was prom night and we had driven to a friend’s house to change. The prom party lasted all night. The school parents had a supervised party for all who wanted to attend. We had intended to drive directly to the party, but as we drove, Liz cuddled under my arm. Somehow, we ended up at the park. My car was parked in a secluded corner of the lot adjacent to the park and my fly was opened. My slacks dropped down about my ankles, while I held her panties. We struggled to find each other’s bodies. There were many groans and sighs that had nothing to do with sex. Finally I thought we had made it. Neither of us were experienced enough to really know how things were supposed to feel. If it sounds like I didn’t know how things were happening, you are correct. Everything was dream-like, out of control. I had my dream girl in my arms and for the first time, I had slid out of my pants with the intention of making love to a girl. Yes, we made it to the party, later, but it was obvious from the two hours we missed, when we arrived, that we had “come” from somewhere and had been doing something else. The smirks from our friends told, at least, what they thought it was.

That prom night, I felt that I had really made love to her. She cuddled under my arm with a possessiveness that felt like she would never let me go. I now thought we were lovers. We would be together forever. I even had a locket made and inscribed, “Max and Liz Forever.”

In college, I went to Stanford and she went to Harvard. That was a long separation. We both had too much invested to change our college plans then. Hard work, the extreme distance and other influences slowly dissolved our relationship. Our brief times as a couple hardly counted. We had gone together for several years, but only after our attempt at making love that night, could we count as some kind of bond.

In college as thoughts of Liz dimmed, I screwed my first woman. I won’t say that I didn’t enjoy it, but that taught me that what ever Liz and I had done was not making love. Well screwing in college wasn’t love either. I did learn that what I had done with Liz wasn’t fulfilling. I would always have an emotional adoration for Liz, although neither of us had had enough experience to make physical love, at that time, and enjoy it.

That night of our wedding, her gown slipping off in my hands, slowly looking at her body, her ridged breasts, her nipples gorged with blood as they hardened, brought back the adoration. My erection, pressing against her only separated by my shorts, brought back the experience I had learned in college. The shorts soon were gone and we collapsed into the bed. That night, I had both love and sex together for the first time. Wrapping my arms around her and crushing her against my chest this time I knew that I never wanted to let her go.

Five years had gone by. For me, Liz still had the original child-like innocence that she had had on our wedding night. No children yet, but we had plenty of time. We were young and we had our whole lives together. She was working at the college and I was now working at a lab refining pharmaceuticals. Liz was teaching chemistry to freshmen and working on her master’s degree, while I was working trying to squirrel away enough money, sorting aspirins, so I could return to grad school. Life was good. I couldn’t ask for anything better. There were several people working at my lab from our hometown. One was even an old girlfriend.

I had gone with Tess Harding in our freshman year of high school. Tess was a small girl in high school, with hair the color of the sun. At the time, I was sure that she was a natural blonde. Her eyes were sparkling blue and looking into them was a vision of heaven itself. We made out a lot, but I just wasn’t fast enough for her. Soon, I learned that she was screwing the captain of the football team. She no longer had time for a boy in training when she could have an experienced, “man.”

At that time, I saw her as an angel pure in heart and deed. It was difficult to think that she wanted to lie naked in anyone’s arms. The captain of the team was a school celebrity. Every year, my once dream girl was screwing the captain of the football team. It was as if they passed her tiny body down along with the title of captain. Like the captain’s jersey, Tess had become the property of the team. In my mind, I saw a tiny tag attached to her body, “Property of Roswell athletics department.” I had lost track of her when we all graduated. I guess, she went to college somewhere and majored in biology. We passed each other in the lab and several times, we ate lunch together in the cafeteria. She now seemed to have her independence. She was still an attractive woman. We talked about a lot of things, but our failed relationship, in high school, was never one of them.

Liz

I was so mad at Max I couldn’t see straight. I knew that Tess Harding was working at the lab. She was just a girl from our old high school. That she meant anything to Max was not considered at that time. I felt that Max was a bit jealous that I was continuing in school while he put his ambitions off for a while. I was putting every bit of my salary away so that as soon as I finished my schooling, he could quit the labs and attend college full time. If I could get a good job then he could go as far as he wanted to in school. I would help support him as he had done me.

When Max tried to make love to me the night of the prom, I felt I was his first love. I excused his fumbles and loved him even more because of them. It was different for me. That night, I had for the first time seen, Max’s lower body, naked. It wasn’t the first time I had seen that part of a boy, naked though. The summer after my freshman year, while my parents were out of town, I had stayed with Maria. Her mother gave her a lot of freedom and while my parents were gone, I also enjoyed that freedom. Maria’s cousin came to stay with us that last week before my parents returned. He could be very charming so when one night we were alone together and he started kissing me, I decided that this would be the night. Sean seemed to know what he was doing. He even used a prophylactic. He had my dress up, my panties off and when he stood, dropping his pants and shorts, Sean took out the small package. He made a show of unwrapping it and rolling it over his shaft, all the while my mind went back to the banana, we used in the sex education class, in middle school. He seemed so masterful when he smiled and said, “For your protection.” I, indeed, felt I was ready to step into the world as a woman. I now had a boy, still wearing his school jacket, his pants on the floor, ramming into me with the intensity of impatient youth.

All I can say about that night was, it hurt. Sean was rough and everything he did was for his own gratification. When he was through, he acted like I should be grateful to him. To me, it seemed that he had showed no feeling for me, especially since he knew that this was my first time. I don’t know what I expected? Maybe a bit of romance, a gentle touch, a caress or kiss, but that was beyond Sean. Once he had my body, any kisses or other ministrations, for me, were forgotten. That last week, Sean tried several times to take me again, but I dodged him with every excuse I could find.

When my parents returned, I decided that I felt used, but I told no one about the episode, even Maria. When Max came to me that night after the prom, I only wished I could have helped his fumbling. I really cared for Max and I truly wanted something to happen. With Max, I had had that romance, that touch, kiss and caress. We just didn’t quite make the love or sex, process. I held onto him, later at the party. I was hoping he would try again. I really wanted to make love to Max, the right way and completely. Finals, graduation, summer plans with our families all contrived to keep us apart. Then for the next four years, there was a whole continent separating us. When you are young, you have so little control over the things going on about you. In college, when you study as many hours a day as I did, old relationships are hard to keep. Summers didn’t help because both of us had internships. Max slowly became that memory of the past. When other things rose up, loyalty to Max became a thing of childhood. I had no idea when or if, I would see him again.

I learned what seduction was and how to use it, or avoid it as I chose. No one promised anything, long term, in college. After graduation, I returned home to take a year off. My professor at Harvard had promised that she would help me arrange financial help when I decided to return. I thanked her for her understanding.

I found that Max had, also, taken a year off. He was working in an electronic store back home. I got a job in an office and we had a reunion that summer. I was surprised that Max wanted to take things slow. He was tender every time he held me. Six months later, when we were married, we hadn’t yet had sex. This worried me a little. What happened to that wrestling match in the car on prom night? Maybe, there was something wrong with Max. Then, I thought that maybe his feelings were so strong that he wanted to only make love to me after we were married.

That night, when I stood in front of him after our wedding, I could see his interest. His penis was almost ripping his shorts. He approached me and removed my gown. I gazed on his body. Active young men at that age have beautiful bodies. I felt that his strength would be with me always. As we fell into bed, all doubts about Max evaporated. He loved me and he gave me love. His strong arms gave me security. For five years, we had an idyllic life. We both wanted children. but while going to school, trying to make a living and me saving so Max could return to school, there just wasn’t time.

I still thought we had a perfect life. It was when Pam Troy, a girl I had known only slightly in high school, stopped by my table in the Student Union cafeteria and said, “I hear that Max is working with one of his old girl friends,” that a storm developed.

I looked up. “Who would that be?” I asked.

“Why, I though you knew? Max had a torrid affair with Tess Harding in his freshman year,” she replied. I should have wondered, “Why was she telling me this? We hadn’t ever been friends.”

Unfortunately, she planted an evil seed in my mind. I remembered Tess Harding from middle school. She was one of the first of the girls in the locker room to talk about having sex. I later decided she didn’t know nearly as much as she pretended. The eighth grade girls would huddle around her in the locker room as she described the male sex organ. She took everyone’s breath away as she told the things she would do with it. She described orgasms that would have satisfied a Hollywood movie queen. Later I thought she must have gotten these stories from some romance novel. No eighth grade girl could arouse that much interest in a man, especially when that man was only another eighth grader, who happened to be a boy. Still at the time, we all could dream of being able to experience her stories ourselves, even if just for a little bit.

We definitely traveled in different circles in high school. The only time I ever heard about her was when it was whispered that Tess Harding was a couple with the captain of the football team. I never had known about her being with Max. If they had been together, then why was he that clumsy? Hadn’t he learned anything from her?

Pam was a bit of a bitch, but it still bothered me that I didn’t know anything about Tess and Max. “Why, Liz, it is told that she gave Max his first time on the fifty yard line one night,” Pam whispered, “She only dumped Max when she managed to get the captain of the team, that year. Tess told everyone that athletes give better lays. Didn’t Max ever tell you about Tess? I guess now she is back to see if he has improved.”

No, Max didn’t tell me anything about Tess; maybe, because it wasn’t any of my business. What Max did before we got together that summer after college graduation was not something I should concern myself about. I hadn’t told him anything about Sean for the same reason. Still the stories about Tess’s ability stirred an envy, deep within me.

What he was doing now definitely was my business. The fear that, ‘she was checking to see if Max had improved,’ troubled me. I went back to thinking about Tess in the middle school locker room. If she did half what she said she could do, was I woman enough, even now, to compete? Was Max, looking for more exciting sex that, he could have on the side, if he went back to her? I was furious. I didn’t think that if he had wanted something on the side, why wasn’t he more careful about letting anyone know of his philandering?

“Do you think any man could withstand the wiles of a woman that skilled? Now, they are again working together, don’t you worry about what they will be doing?” Those were the parting comments as Pam went about her business. From then on any mention of Tess, or the people Max worked with, caught my attention. I don’t know if Max knew it, but it cut like a knife when he would mention something that Tess Harding had said at work. I was building up a passel of anger towards Max and Tess.

Max

Okay, she threw me out. What was this thing about Sean? I really liked Liz’s friend Maria. I always had doubts about Maria’s cousin. I heard that Sean was back at the college. I kept hearing things about Sean and Liz. Not from Liz, but from other sources. I couldn’t believe that Liz even knew Sean. For her to have been sleeping with him was unthinkable, that is until I talked to Michael one night while sharing a pitcher of beer. My best buddy Michael was sleeping regularly with Maria. They talked about getting married but so far, hadn’t got to that step. Michael and I were sitting in this bar, sharing a pitcher of beer when I asked, “Mike, what can you tell me about Liz and Sean?”

Michael took a sip of beer, as if he was trying to think what to say. “There was one summer when the Parkers were out of town. This was before you guys had started to hang out with each other. Liz was staying with Maria. You know how Maria’s mom, Amy, was. She was always out with some boyfriend. Maria and I were just starting to get acquainted. The whole time Liz was with Maria that summer, they were always together. Maria and I were starting to talk about sex. One night, just before the summer was over, Maria told Liz that she was going off with me. I don’t know how girls talk, but I am sure Liz understood what we wanted. Liz stayed home with Sean. Sean stayed away from me, because I would beat the snot out of him if he didn’t. After that night, I don’t know what happened, but Liz was different somehow. Until she went back home when her parents returned, Maria wouldn’t go out with me alone. Liz seemed distant from Sean. He followed her around like a puppy, but she seemed careful not to be alone with him. She almost seemed to hang onto Maria. I did ask Maria if Sean had done something to Liz, but she said that Liz had told her that nothing had happened,” Michael related.

“Do you think Liz and Sean had sex, that summer?” I asked.

“Max, I don’t know. Besides if they did, it isn’t any of your business, is it?” he asked.

“No, but if they had some affair, then would he be back for seconds, now that they both are grown and experienced?” I asked in return. I continued. “I keep hearing stories about Sean and Liz. I didn’t think she could ever go with trash like him. Now, you tell me that something probably happened back in high school, that, they did something together. At one time, did they have something going on? Are they back for seconds?” Despite Michael’s lack of confirmation, I kept having even more convincing feelings that Sean meant something important to my Liz.

“Max, what about you and Tess? She was a hot piece of ass in the ninth grade.” He stated. “It is said that you are tripping out with her.”

“Michael, believe me, nothing happened with me and Tess, then or now. Back then, I was too naive to understand that she wanted me to screw her. There are many times I wish I had taken her up on what she offered. I made mistakes later that I wouldn’t have, if I had understood and had had more experience,” I told him. “She is just a lady I work with,” I continued.

“What about now? Michael asked. “I understand that Liz accuses you of having an affair with Tess,” Michael stated.

“Is that why she now has been going out with Sean? Is she trying to teach me a lesson?” I asked. “All around work, I keep hearing Liz and Sean. What gives with that jailbird?”

Michael just shrugged. “If she feels you have rejected her, there is no telling what she would do,” Michael stated. “Or who she might do it with,” he concluded.

With that wisdom, I decided to go home. I had had too many beers so I called a cab. I would pick up my car tomorrow.

keepsmiling7
mary mary
begonia9508
L-J-L 76

Author's note: Sometimes enemies turn out to be our best friends and those we do not even see become our our enemies. Please notice the footprint on the dreamer's insurance in the banner. It is not lost, but it is stepped on a few times.

Chapter 2

Liz

Several months later we are now divorced. It was only by both of our insistences that the no fault was preserved. It was only by both of us insisting that we didn’t want any community property.
We both insisted on a “no fault” divorce. Since we had acquired no community property, we simply walked away with our individual savings, minus the lawyers’ fees. It was a very lonely time, but things like that happen. My professor, at the state University, Doctor Fredrick, (Harvard having given way to our marriage) felt sorry for me and she talked me into entering a doctorial program. Sean kept coming around. He explained that now we were both older, free and more experienced, “We should have another go at it,” as he said.

Yes we are both older and more experienced, but as I got older, I learned to have class. Sean didn’t. I couldn’t see him acting much differently from when he was in high school. That didn’t stop Sean’s insistence. It was like he was sure he could wear me down. I had lost all track of Max. I have no idea if he is still in town or not. I still saw Maria occasionally. “Liz, I love both of you. Please don’t put me in the middle of your squabble,” she pleaded, so I had no news of him from her.

I threw myself into my schoolwork. I would get my doctorate in a couple of years. I spent the money I had been saving for Max. If he was going to pork it to the gerbil, then let him. Nasty, nasty, I usually didn’t talk like that, nor did I think like that. Max wouldn’t “pork it” to any one. He was tender when he made love. She must have had some attraction that drew him from our bed. It hurt, when the vision overtook me, of her flowing blonde mane, spread out on a bed, as Max poised above her, sharing the pleasure that should have only been mine. I made myself return to thinking, where had I failed Max? What did that woman have, that I didn’t have? Why wasn’t he still gazing at my body with the fervent glances I could imagine he was giving hers. What could she give Max that I couldn’t give him? What had Tess learned, in her years at college, that I had missed, while slaving my way through the difficulties of Harvard? I received a degree in biology. Had she also received other training, than just her degree? If he would have only told me he needed more. I remembered Tess’s stories in the middle school locker room. Was she really that good, then? Had she become even better, now? Could she please a man that well? What if she was not lying, but rather she was very talented, even then? What would she be like, now? I had seen her a few times at a distance. Ms. Harding was still a very beautiful woman.

I was going to have to quit beating up on myself. I was going to have to try again or live the life of an aged divorcée. Would I be living alone with just a Persian cat? More and more, I was spending my time with my students. That didn’t leave much time for socializing. The students were all adults, but there is an unwritten rule about dating a student. There was a fellow doctorial candidate who was a little older than I. We had talked a few times in the lounge. Sean was still around, trying to talk me into going out with him. I knew what he wanted. Well maybe after a few months of celibacy I might want the same thing. Was Sean to be the best I could get anymore? I did not cave in to his entreaties, but I tried not to piss him off either.

Max

The thoughts of Tess in high school still stirred me. We hadn’t done any thing wrong, yet. I still wondered if she could do all of those things reputed to her. I remembered the locker room talk. At the time, I was hurt that she had dumped me for some jock. I also was naive. I kept thinking that someway, he had seduced her. I had fantasies that I should have rescued her and forgiven her, her trespasses. At that time, she still was my dream girl. But, somehow, hearing the many stories, she had become soiled. She wasn’t the pure angel I had seen as a freshman. It would be years later that I could kick myself, thinking what she could have offered me. She could have still been an angel, but then, an angel of love. Now, I saw her not only as a lady I worked with, but she was a lady I had been falsely accused of having an affair with. A story that, so far, had no basis for fact. Stories still circulated about Liz. They wouldn’t quit. Since I couldn’t see where they were coming from, it reinforced my thinking that there was truth behind them. Like Tess, the girl of my freshman year, was Liz to become soiled by association? As I saw Tess now, would I be able to ever again see Liz, as the pure love of my life?

Some of the guys at work talked me into going out to a bar one weekend. They said, “You find a woman. Then, you keep drinking until she looks beautiful. You take her to a motel. Imagine she is the woman of your dreams. If you are drunk enough, then your night will be one of your dreams. She probably will wake up and leave before you, anyway. So there will be nothing left, but the dream.”

Yeah, I met a woman almost the first hour. We were talking and she kept reaching for my crotch. She managed to stretch and wiggle until one breast fell out of her dress. When I saw that bulbous breast, I could only think of the finely sculptured breasts of Liz. The delicate body of Liz, like the vision I saw on that night of our wedding, kept running through my mind. I remembered the small trim figure that I held that night. Looking at the slightly over weight woman in front of me, I panicked. I excused myself to go to the men’s room and found the pay phone. I called a cab and was out in the alley waiting until the vehicle arrived.

I guess, I hadn’t drunk enough, not to find that woman gross. Maybe, after a few more drinks, I wouldn’t have minded her grabbing my crotch. I could have just let down my zipper and let her have her way with it. I shook my head and sat down in front of my computer. I opened my email. In amongst the rest of the SPAM, there were 15 different sites all set up to find companions. I scrolled through several of them. There must be so many lonesome people in the world. After I got past the man looking for a woman part, I found they had the usual buttons to check:

Looking for casual sex,
Looking for kinky sex, anything goes,
Looking for group sex,
Looking for relationship, no strings attached,
Looking for long term relationship
Looking for companionship,
Looking for conversation.

Now maybe, I was ready for that last one. The rest I would have to think about. I gave them $40 on my credit card and signed up. There was a profile I had to fill out. No names at this point. I chose lonely for a pen name. They kept rejecting it until I got to lonely451. I filled out my education, my occupation, preferences in music, hobbies and so forth. I would be assigned to a pool, of like people, with similar backgrounds and then, we would try to find someone, with whom we could chat.

I went to bed. I kept thinking, if Liz had been with Sean as a freshman, what must she have thought of me, that night of the prom? I had always looked down on Sean. To me, he was that smart-ass, vulgar kid in school, but had he taken Liz on waves of ecstasy that freshman year? While I was fumbling with my understanding with what Tess wanted, was Liz enjoying the company of Sean? Was she receiving something that I was still to immature to give. Was Liz, at that time, looking for this with me? Prom night was the first time I had tried to have sex, much less, make love.

What must she have thought of me, during the five years, while we had been married? Did she yearn for the excitement she had probably had, with Sean? Did she miss the thrill that I couldn’t give her? Why do girls like bad boys? Is it the excitement, which a husband can’t give? Sean had been in and out of juvenal institutions his whole young life. I had heard that he had spent a stretch in the state prison. Did Liz like rough sex? Did he learn things in prison that she found exciting? I didn’t think inmates learned that sort of stuff. They were more into guy to guy things. Was the ambivalence of his orientation, what turned Liz on? The whole time I was with her from high school on, we were still strangers. After marriage, suddenly you are one flesh as the ceremony says. Is five years enough to learn her secrets? Did I ever learn any of her secrets? Did I ever share secrets that I held dear? Why hadn’t we talked more? Why hadn’t I shared my fantasies with her? Maybe if I had, she would have felt free to return the secret things she desired, also.

Liz

Robert (Bob) Silverman was about a year ahead of me in the doctorial program. He was good looking, tall and well built. His hair had a touch of pre mature gray and that lent him a certain dignity. He seemed to always have money. The best part of our lunch talks, was that Sean was afraid of him. Finally, Bob asked me to go out on a date with him. We had dinner and went to a show. Bob was a good companion. I had a very good time. As we returned to his car, he asked, “Would you like to stop by my place for a while?”

Of course, I knew what he wanted. Maybe by this time, I wanted the same thing. The feeling was strong that he desired me tonight. After the many false dates set up by my friends, to be desired in the way I could imagine Bob wanted me, struck me deeply. Many of the arranged dates were simply weak attempts to set someone up with a quick fuck. I turned so many men down instead of accompanying them home, that I angered many friends.

We drove to a beautiful large house on the outskirts of town. I should have wondered why one man would need this large of a home. Bob opened the door for me and led me by the hand. We went to a bedroom with a huge king-sized bed. There was a small refrigerator containing chilled wine. He poured two glasses and we sat on the bed talking. As we talked, he moved closer and closer. Soon, he took the glass from my hand and placed it on a small table near the bed.

The tenderness with which he removed my dress was so different from anything I had experienced. Max was tender but sometimes he was clumsy. There was nothing clumsy about Bob. He had my dress, my underwear, my stockings and shoes off before I knew it. He hadn’t yet undressed. He sat there caressing my body. Every touch was a thrill. Showing Bob my naked body was exhilarating. I was reveling in the feeling that he appreciated me, not like so many men who only wanted me to spread my legs.

Finally, Bob stood up and almost like a stripper in a show, he removed his clothes. By this time, I had seen lots of new things, during the girl’s nights out, including a female strip show. I did not see what was so great about the way the girls took off their clothes. Watching Bob, I now understood. He was unfolding the package he was bringing to bed. Bob’s body was beautiful. It was more mature than the younger body of Max. In its way, it had more promise. At least, I thought so at the time.

Love from Bob was unlike anything I had ever felt. His maturity gave him strength not roughness. I reveled in being held by him, almost as much as I had, that wedding night with Max. I thought that now I might again be in love. Bob drove everything about Max out of my mind. I could only think about pleasing Bob. He certainly was pleasing me. I awoke in the morning and reached for my clothes. Bob stopped my hand. “Liz, let’s just be natural for a time,” he said.

Taking me by the hand, he led me to a shower. We showered, kissed, petted, loved and showered again. Getting out instead of reaching for a towel Bob turned a switch and a strong warm draft blew from the ceiling down on us. I was surprised how fast we dried. Bob led us, still naked, to a small kitchen. He went to the refrigerator and took out several fruits; several bottles of fruit juice and sat them before me. By this time, I had ceased making covert stares at Bob’s naked figure. The constant reminder of his manhood had faded into something that I was seeing as just normal. Bob, though, never ceased casting appreciative glances at me. At first, I was embarrassed, but soon I was proud that I was causing a stir in him. That just the sight of my body could cause an arousal in Bob, was a complement.

Then Bob went to a machine, which I saw was a timed coffee maker and poured both of us cups of the smoothest coffee I have ever had. When we had finished breakfast, he led me back to the bedroom and we dressed each other. By now, his hands on my body and my hands on his, was feeling normal. I, helping him with his tie and he helping me with the fastenings, which are so hard to reach, was creating a familiarity that I remembered from marriage. Finally, he took a brush and slowly brushed my hair. No man had ever done that for me. Max had been a mistake. This was the man for me. He had more care in him than any man I had ever met.

We drove back to my place. He walked me to my door and kissed me. I murmured, “When can we do this again?”

Bob shook his head. “Not for a while, Liz. My wife returns from Europe tomorrow.”

I am sure my face was a study. He looked at me surprised. “I thought you knew that I was married, Liz. I thought you just needed a diversion from being a divorcée. I am sorry if you thought something different.”

I couldn’t answer. I was crying so hard. I struggled to open my door and then, slammed it in his face. I felt like a used whore. I am sure in his world, I should have been as satisfied as he was. No, he hadn’t ever promised any thing. But, what had been so beautiful was now sordid. I cried until almost lunchtime. Then, I called Maria.

Maria was always vocal. “That bastard! Imagine not telling you that he was married. To do something like that, to you, is unforgivable.”

I shook my head. “No, Maria, I did it to myself. Maybe next time, I should go to Sean. I know what he wants.”

Maria frowned. “I was talking to Michael. Did Sean do anything to you a long time ago? That summer when you stayed with me, did something happen when I was too wrapped up in Michael to notice?”

I hung my head. “Maria, that summer Sean and I had sex,” I said.

Before I could say anything else Maria yelled, “Did he force himself on you?”

I shook my head. “No, Maria I had agreed. At the time, I saw Sean as older and charming. What happened wasn’t very pleasant and I didn’t want to say anything. I was afraid when I was going with Max that he would find out and not like me any more. At that time, I didn’t know anything about his experiences with Tess. In college, I slept with a few guys, but it was nothing serious. It was just something that happened. When Max and I were married, I thought I had gone to heaven. Until last night, I had never experienced anything like that. Now, I find last night was a sham.”

Max

One of the guys at work fixed me up with a girl. She was a looker right enough. She wasn’t anybody’s cast off cousin. She was almost my height. She had dark raven hair almost the color of Liz’s. She had the body of an athlete. We went to dinner, but she didn’t have much to say. She would ask me things about myself, but when I was talking, I had the feeling that she wasn’t listening very closely. When I asked her questions about herself, she answered in only incomplete sentences. She asked to go back to my house. When we got inside, she turned to me, “Max, we don’t need all that small talk. I don’t care what you do and I am sure you do not care about me. We are both here for sex, so let’s get at it.” With that, she unzipped the back of her dress and it fell to the floor. The muscles under the dress rippled like those of a racehorse at the starting gate, as it fell. Her body was a golden brown. That complexion was so like the body of Liz. The comparison stopped there. Liz was trim and delicate. Everything about Liz was something from fine art.

When the lady removed her dress, she wasn’t wearing anything else under it. Her body, her curves, belonged on a model’s catwalk. Later, I thought they were more like a lady body builder’s. I was steering her to my bedroom holding onto the cheeks of her butt, which were firm like those of a runner. All the while, her arms were around my neck as she was devouring me with her kisses. The minute we entered the bedroom, she was at my belt and zipper. My pants were falling as I tried to get out of my coat and shirt. All my lady friend was showing, was impatience. She had both hands inside my shorts as she pushed me to my bed. I fell back and she ripped my shorts off. I know cowboys like to wear their boots, even in a whorehouse, but I would like to take off my shoes, before I was put in bed. She worked her way from my groin up to my chin and back again. My hands were free to roam her body. The feeling was so unlike any woman I had ever been with, which at that time there were only a few, except for my ex-wife, Liz. As my hands ran up and down her arms, I thought, I would hate to be in a bar, arm wrestling this woman. I would lose for sure. The rest of her body, her legs, her arms and her abs were firm. Her skin was smooth, but you could feel the power just underneath.

I was pretty sure I was going to lose it when she pushed me into herself. We made love until I was exhausted. That did not slow her. She was almost like a magician as she brought my shaft back to life. I have no idea how many times she brought me back to life. When I woke up, I felt a weight on my body. She likewise had passed out on top. I carefully slid out from under her and went to the bathroom. When I returned she was wiggling her body like a Siamese cat. I thought about scratching her belly, but I was afraid the analogy wouldn’t go that far, same for scratching her ears.

She got up to go to the bathroom and I could hear the shower. I collected some clean clothes, figuring that as soon as she was out it would be my turn. Not a chance. When she returned smelling so nice with her fresh body, she started all over again. My body was starting to ache. I was beginning to feel used. Finally, she was satiated and I fled to the shower. When I returned, I found her dressed. She pecked me on the cheek as she said, “I called a cab. Next time, we might really go after it. You have a lot to learn.” With that, she left.

When I got back to work Monday, the fellows were all gathered around. “How did Wanda work out?” they asked.

I didn’t know how to answer that one, so I just limped to my lab station pulling my lab coat on and holding my head. Was her name really Wanda? I don’t think I ever asked. I sat there and wondered what she meant when she said, “We might really go after it.” I might have a lot to learn, but would I survive the education? Again, my thoughts were of holding the delicate body of Liz in my arms, as we made love, I had found those thoughts so wonderful. I just cried silently, “Oh Liz, why weren’t those times as wonderful to you as they were to me?”

Janetfl
valentinebaby
jake17
keepsmiling7
begonia9508
Earth2Mama
mary mary
L-J-L 76

Stories by Ken

Author note: Please note the "Dreamer Insurance" guarantee," was stepped on and crumpled. It is not void, but it will take both Liz and Max a while before they can see each other. Love has nothing to do with talking to each other. Communication is a skill i believe that is not explored enough before the wedding. Please believe that by definition as our "favorite couple," Max and Liz both want stable relationships. In the singles and newly created singles they do not find much of that. They must find that there are many others who do not see life the same as they did. Max says he wanted a marriage counselor but later he doesn't remember if he insisted on that or not. They are both heated in their arguments. Notice that reason does assert itself at the divorce as neither want punish the other. I am sure their lawyers were encouraging them to as that is the way the lawyer gets money.

there are several things in this chapter which will come back later in the story. Everything that happens is for a reason.

Chapter 3

Liz

The professor overseeing my doctorial work handed me a web site address. “I don’t think I want to get into Internet dating,” I explained.

“It is more than a dating site, Liz. It is also, a place to find people to talk to,” she said. That night, I sat down and filled out the forms. I decided to take it slow so I checked the conversation box. I used the name lonely. That is how I felt and I hoped that I could remedy that feeling. The Computer kept throwing my name back at me. I guess I could have changed to something else, but I was stubborn. I kept adding numbers after the name. Finally at lonely 452, the machine accepted my choice. I filled out my profile and hit “submit.” I felt a shudder through my body. What if the computer replied, “No match at this time?” The thought that I might be rejected, even by a computer, frightened me.

Friends at home and at work were all quick to attempt to set me up with blind dates. That is, all but Maria. Maria listened to me, but she never tried to persuade me in anything, except to stay away from her cousin.

Now, when a friend sets you up, you have to ask, are they doing you a favor or they trying to do a favor, for the person they are offering you? Friends, other than Maria, had no fear about offering their overweight, oversexed or overbearing cousins. I became adept at terminating dates early. It was easy to lose friends this way. I had at least one so-called friend say, “My cousin is very disappointed at you. He took you to dinner and you wouldn’t put out.”

A group of girls invited me to accompany them to a night at the bar scene. We started out at one bar and drifted until we got to a private male stripper place. Now, unless you have been out with them, you might not realize that a group of drunk women, can really get gross. We had to sign up and join the club, because belonging to the club was the only way to get in. We were taking a taxi so none of us had to be the designated driver. My friends were drinking pretty hard. By the time we arrived at the stripper place, they were plenty high. At first, there were several men in jockstraps prancing in front of the crowd of women. Their erections were pushing at the coverings. Women, my friends included, were all vying to place dollar bills inside the pouches of the jockstraps. The giggling and laughter of the women as they felt the men’s privates was chaotic. For a price, the women were allowed to fondle what was shaking before them. One woman gave the man two twenties and he stood in front of her as she gave him oral sex. I had never seen it done like that in public. I guess she knew what she was doing. She took him in her mouth until, even his professional restraint, released. The rest of the women cheered as he ‘came’ all over her. The club was bending the rules of propriety, but none of the patrons were complaining. Since I had no idea what the evening would bring, I drank very little. We had already lost a couple of our group, they having found something that interested them, along the way. I decided that I had had enough of this, so I whispered that I was leaving. With a wink, my friends wished me good luck, with who ever it was.

I arrived back home with only a mild headache and a slight buzz. I sat down at my computer to see what it had to offer. There was a list of names. Super-stud, love machine and the like, I glossed over. It must have been a coincidence, but I found a name, lonely 451. The guy must have registered right before me. Our minds must have run alike to pick such similar user names. I indicated that I would like to chat and gave the time tomorrow evening. With that, I went to bed.

Max

The guys at work suggested I try a professional woman. They gave me a phone number. The cheapest that was offered was $500. I had to get a hotel room and phone the location and number. I set it up for a Wednesday night. The price for a weekend evening was much higher. The girl was pretty. She had a business dress on. She could have been the executive of a corporation. She would have been a little young, though. She had a light complexion and her delicate body was almost like that of Liz. She was a co-ed from college. I kept thinking that she might even be one of Liz’s students. She was very matter of fact, for someone so young. As she took a seat in one of the chairs in the room, she announced, “Honey, it is $500, cash before we can talk.” Once the money had exchanged hands, she said, “Now what do you want. Remember extras cost more.”

I only stuttered, “Ah,..Ah..” The lady was more direct, but I was as dense, as I must have been, when more subtle invitations had been given, when I was in school. I had never been able to tell Liz any of my fantasies. This woman was a stranger and sitting there looking her in the face made it harder not easier. I couldn’t even think of any fantasies.

“Well,” I started again. Why do we always start with ‘well’ when we do not know what to say? “I was divorced recently,” even if now, it had been several months. It still seemed like yesterday that I was holding my Liz. Now she was in the arms of that worthless Sean.

I guess my indecision clued her into some of my problems. The lady, she had not given me her name and come to think of it she never did, gave me an understanding smile and pointed to the bathroom. “Go shower honey, I will be ready for you when you return,” she purred.

I had no idea what to expect. I showered, brushed my teeth with complementary paste and brush, then wrapped in a towel about my waist, I returned to the bedroom.

She led me to the bed and pushed me back. With the skill of an exotic dancer she unwrapped herself for me. She was a $500 package and I was to receive all of my money’s worth.

She really wasn’t that much different from Wanda. Her purpose was to make love and, like Wanda, she did not waver from this charge. Where Wanda used her body like a weapon, this un-named woman used hers like a commodity. The athletic body of Wanda’s had given way to the efficient body of this courtesan. This strange un-named lady was gentler and not as insistent. Wanda seemed to be trying to set a record. This woman was on a schedule. Yes, she was on a time line and two hours, from the minute I re-entered the room from the shower, she stood up. She smiled and pulled her simple one piece dress back on. I hadn’t noticed before, if she had worn anything under it. Her exotic dance had mesmerized me completely. She picked up her purse, taking a card bearing a four digit number on one side and the same phone number the guys had given me on the other, she handed it to me and said, “If you want me again, honey, you can just refer to this number.” With that, our paid for date was now, over. I just sat there for an hour or so. When I went to the desk and told them I was checking out, I was surprised that no comment was made about my short stay.

Getting home, it was well after midnight. I hadn’t checked my email or the dating site since the weekend. When I opened it up, I saw the name lonely452 and the desire to chat last Monday night. I felt terrible. I quickly answered.

Lonely452, I am so sorry that I missed you last Monday. I was distracted from my computer for the last several days. I would be glad to chat with you if you will give me another chance. I will check my email and also the chat room this evening after six PM. (It was after midnight now.)

Liz

I sat in front of the screen for two hours. Nothing, he was a no show. I had been stood up, by a computer. I purposely crashed it. I went to bed. I shed many tears, but I had no idea who I was maddest at, myself or that bastard, who didn’t have the manners, to at least, check me out. Crap, I was just asking for conversation. That is what he indicated he wanted.

After Bob Silverman, the people at work all became off limits. Bob would smile and acknowledge me every morning and I just smiled back. He had no idea or rather, he had no care, how much he had hurt me.

Someone dropped off a brochure for something called, “The Fifteen-Minute Date.” I read it. The idea was that you go to this party and each woman is assigned a table. The men move around. They are given a list of what order to visit, but every man present would be allowed 15-minutes to talk. Whatever you arranged in that 15-minutes was your business. There was an hour mixer at the end where with ‘Ladies choice,’ you could approach any man who struck your fancy. I phoned in my reservation. There was a charge, which I made on my credit card. I understand that the charge was much higher for the men.

The instructions were that the men and women would all be professional people. There was a certain screening, but of course, there were no guarantees. This was a party, so it was suggested that I dress appropriately. There were a few guidelines such as imagine this is an office party given by your boss. Well, I could just imagine how a bunch of college lab rats would dress at a party. I got that word “lab rat” from Bob.

Wait, when I started my master’s degree, I was invited to a mixer for faculty and graduate assistants. Max and I had attended. I thought about how they were dressed.

I purchased a new dress. Perhaps, the hem was a bit higher and the neckline was a bit lower than I would have picked out if Max had been escorting me. Well, face it, I was putting myself on display. That sounded so crass. Max, as my husband, was a sure thing. He knew what I had. I didn’t have to convince him. Then, it hit me. What if that was one of our problems? What if in comparing me, his wife of five years, I didn’t measure up to other women he saw? Did he see in Tess, some sex appeal that he no longer saw in me? Did Max have childhood memories of that ninth grade girl who led him to the land of fantasy? At least to as many fantasies as ninth graders could have. Did she show him something that was just beyond his childish grasp, some thing that had remained in his memory all this time? Had I allowed myself to become that run down? Had that skill, formed, even in childhood with that woman, eluded me as an adult. Damn it, I was working, going to school and trying to be his wife. What did he expect? Yes, what did he expect? Was even now, Tess Harding making my Max, forget his former wife? My Max, that sounded so wistful.

Now, I was still going to school. The doctoral program is much harder than the beginning of the graduate program. I was still working. I wasn’t anyone’s wife and now, I was trying to show some sex appeal that would attract a man. Was it my own fault that I was in this position?

I remember once, Max and I went to a party. It was fairly formal and both of us were very uncomfortable. We milled around not knowing what was expected of us as waiters meandered in the crowd with trays of goodies. As they passed by, you were supposed to pick something off the tray. The trouble was, they moved fairly quickly. You could only manage to grab one thing off their tray before they were gone. They would return in a while with something totally different. You never had time to access the offerings or to make a decision about what to choose. Max, for a time, tried to help me, but he soon learned that they moved so rapidly that if he chose something for me he was left out. We, finally, just each grabbed something as the waiter approached. Then later, we looked to see what we had taken.

Me hating liver, the “foie gras” almost made me throw up. Max came to my rescue as always. He didn’t mind liver, so he ate my specimen and saved me from making an embarrassing scene. Come to think of it, Max was always saving me. Now, I was on my own. Yes, Max ate the liver, I found myself with, at the party. Now, I would have to get rid of my rejects alone. It would be seen, how I disposed of the chopped liver, which sat down beside me.

When the party I had been to with Max, was over, I had felt that the trays, had whipped past me so fast, I couldn’t make any choice. At the conclusion, my head was spinning. Now, I had to ask was the 15-minutes enough time to meet and access a man? For some of the men, the time was much too long. I could make up my rejection in a fraction of that time. With them, the time seemed to crawl. For others, I was still trying to wrap myself around a name when the bell sounded and we exchanged partners. I carefully explained that I had been just recently divorced. I was not ready to jump into anyone’s bed, but I would like to meet someone, to take things slowly and to maybe, email each other. This was a good tactic. I only stated this near the end of our 15-minutes. There were some who were definitely turned off. They were there to get laid as many times as they could in the next few weeks. A “getting to know you,” was just not what they were looking for. Several were so shy that I thought I was back in high school with Max. It was asking too much to access looks, personality and to identify those subtle traits which might prove dangerous later, in the allotted time.

I had a little check list which I put a number by each “date.” I had worked out a code, which I kept covered up. Most of my “No Way José” codes showed no interest in me either. That was good. I had gotten across the fact that I was not what they were looking for. When I got home that night I saw that many of my “possibles” had showed no interest in me later at the mixer. Between the “possibles” that did see me favorable and the “sure things,” I did get several requests for my email address and one request for a phone number. I put him off by saying, “Let’s try the email first.”

When I got home, I saw the message on the date line from lonely451. His excuse seemed plausible. I wrote him back. “I was busy tonight. Let’s try again, tomorrow.”

Max

When I got to the lab, my friends were crowded around me. “How was it, Max? Did she put out for her money’s worth?” they asked.

I could only nod my head. Yes, the sex was professionally given. The Lady was faultless in her profession, but it wasn’t what I wanted. How did I feel? I felt broke and still lonely. I saw Tess working across the Lab. If I was going to be accused of having an affair with her, I might as well see if it couldn’t, at least, be true. At lunch, I sat down with Tess in a corner of the cafeteria. She looked up at me with a twinkle in her eye, “Paying for it now, are we Max?”

I could only look down at my plate. The embarrassment was so great. Had the guys told everyone at the labs about my date?

Tess reached out and put her hand on my arm. “That is Okay, Max, we all pay for it, one way or the other,” she said. “Max, I hadn’t said anything because the rumor was that my name, in some way, was involved in your divorce. Now that the divorce is all over, and I am between lovers, maybe, we should try it. We never made it in high school, and that certainly wasn’t my fault. I tried to give you all the right signals. I was just impatient and the football players were not that difficult to get,” Tess told me.

“Tess, you had nothing to do with my divorce. My wife heard something and she went to a guy she knew in school to get even. She didn’t even try to talk to me. The guy she went to was what we always considered a “bad boy.” Why do women prefer bad boys?” I asked.

“Bad boys have confidence. A lot of this confidence, is misplaced, ask me and I should know. I guess, I have had enough “bad boys” to last me a life time,” Tess said as she toyed with her food. Then, she looked up. “Why didn’t you ever take me, our freshman year? I certainly gave you enough opportunity,” she said wistfully.

“Tess, I saw you as an angel. I saw you as the girl my mother told me to look for. It was like losing my faith in religion when I saw you go to that football player. When we were going together, I couldn’t imagine you would want me that way. It wasn’t until I was grown that I looked back, wistfully, at those times. You do not know how often I wished I had been more mature? If I had been, I would still have seen you as an angel, but one who could be loved and one who could teach. You don’t know how much I regret that I didn’t understand your invitations for what they were and join you in learning about love and sex,” I confessed.

“I guess our timing was just off. Max, I am carrying too much baggage to allow myself to be a stepladder for your esteem. If, someday, you should pull yourself together and I am not involved, maybe, we should try again. This time as adults both who know what they are doing and what they want.” I thought I saw both wisdom and a touch of sadness as Tess picked up her tray and went back to work.

This troubled me the rest of the day. Tess had seemed interested until our talk. Had I, again, talked myself out of something? I wasn’t an aggressive person in high school. How many times had I missed, when whatever girl I had been with, had given me signals that I just didn’t see. The professional woman had been very direct and I didn’t know how to react. How many times had Liz tried to give me some sort of signal, that it would have been okay to make love? I, now, have no idea how we ended up prom night in that parking lot. My mind strayed to college. How many opportunities had I missed there because I was just a “dumb-nut?”

When Liz and I got back together, that summer, I was determined that we wouldn’t make love until we were at a place where Liz would be the center of my attention and there would be no distractions, either physical or moral. I wondered if my delay caused her any reservations about me?

I promised 452 I would be on the chat line by six PM. I hurried home and turned on the computer. I ate supper that night at my desk. Talking to Tess today had given me a lot to think about. Maybe talking to another woman, one who I didn’t know, would help also. She didn’t show this night, but the next morning I got a message that she has been busy. We would try tonight.
-----------------------
Stories by Ken

L-J-L 76
begonia9508
mary mary
keepsmiling7
Earth2Mama

Stories by Ken

Author's notes: Remember that Tess was obsessed with Max, but it was in the ninth grade. At that time she found that he did not measure up. There might still be curiosity about him as an adult, but that is for later. The online dating, came from a story my son told me. He had two friends who broke up and when they happened to go to an on line service, the computer paired them. They decided that maybe, the computer knew more than they did so, they tried, again, to make a go of it.

I once asked my self the same question about the $500. We see woman out there throwing themselves at men. A friend told me that aside from appearances this just isn’t so, for the average guy. He must “pay for it” to get a women of apparent quality.

Remember that the longer that Max and Liz do not know the identity of their “chat partner” the more they will be free to discuss things that are bothering them.

I posted two chapters today. Liz is going to learn more about marriage and dating. She is going to learn a bit more about finding men of quality. Max, also, is going to find a nice lady, maybe, but does she offer a future?

Chapter 4

Liz

When I got home, I found eight emails. Two of them were amourish mush. The writers tried to show that they were romantic. That was fine, but they had told me very little about themselves. I replied with a questionnaire that I put together and then, emailed to each of them. I had formed these questions from what I remembered of the profile I filled out from the dating sight. Four of them were just folksy discussions about current events, things that happened at their offices and dreams they had for the future. The last two, at first, made me angry. They were questions almost like I had asked. Then I thought, these last two, maybe, were very interested in me and wanted more information before they found themselves too much involved. I wrote a short essay about myself. I emailed a copy to each of them. I thought, “Next time, I will ask the questions.” Of course for each of the emails, I had to wait to see if any of them were still interested in me.

Then I thought about the chat line. I brought the site up and went to the chat room. It was almost 9 pm. The chat room was almost empty. Or marked that the members were in private chat rooms having private conversations. There I saw him. 451 was sitting there waiting for me to appear. When I had read his last reply, which he must have made late in the evening or rather early in the morning, he did show chagrin for missing me.

Lonely452 says: Hello, I am sorry for being so late. I had some things that had to be done before I could just sit back and chat.

Lonely451 says: I am sorry I missed you the first two times. I guess deep down, I didn’t expect anyone to want to talk to me.

I thought, “This isn’t good. He sounds like he is very unsure of himself.”

Lonely452 says: That is all right. When you didn’t answer me the first time, I felt the same way.

Maybe I was just as unsure.

Lonely451 says: What are the rules for conversation?

Lonely452 says: No names, no identifiable places. If the conversation gets steamy, then we should check with each other to make sure neither of us is uncomfortable.

Lonely451 says: What are the topics of our conversations?

Lonely452 says: I was recently divorced and I am having trouble coming to terms with it. I see by your profile that you were divorced, also. I would like to discuss our marriages and discuss what went wrong. Will that bother you?

Lonely 451 says: Not at all. I have the same questions. Can we discuss other things, also?

Lonely452 says: Like what?

Lonely 451 says: My wife and I used to talk about just things in general. I miss that.

Lonely 452 says: Sure, just if either of us becomes uncomfortable we can say stop and there will not be any hard feelings.

Lonely451 says: That sounds like a good idea. Should we get a room?

Lonely452 says: Lol, that sounds so intimate. Get a room on the first date.

Lonely451 says: Not a date. If we were on a date, even a virtual one we would have to check one of the other boxes on our profile and probably pay extra. First conversation.

He must have clicked my name twice because a new window opened up on my computer and both of our names were highlighted in the original chat room indicating that we were busy. Shortly I saw the dialog scroll across the new window.

Lonely451 says: Did you make the trip?

Lonely452 says: Yes.

Lonely 451 says: If we are going to have meaningful conversation I need to know something about you.

Lonely452 says: I am a teacher and I am divorced, is that enough.

I just wasn’t about to let anyone, I could not even see, into too many facts about my life.

Lonely451 says: I guess for the moment, that will have to do.

There was a pause. I thought, “I have made him mad. The conversation will stop before it even starts.”

Lonely451 says: Have you had trouble with friends and their advice?

Lonely452 says: They keep trying to match me up with their cousins. Most of their cousins are social misfits. I guess, that is how they see me, now.

Lonely451 says: My friends tried to fix me up with a girl I met at a bar.

Lonely452 says: How did that go?

Lonely451 says: I kept seeing visions of my ex-wife. She was very charming and beautiful. The bar lady was so plain. I ran out the back door.

Lonely452 says: But, you are divorced. Shouldn’t you be looking for someone new?

Lonely451 says: I just do not want to settle for someone who is not as charming as she was.

Lonely452 says: If she was so wonderful, why did you get a divorce?

Lonely451 says: I don’t know. It wasn’t my idea. She was cheating on me. I wanted to work things out. That just didn’t happen.

Lonely 452 says: It is getting late. I have classes tomorrow. I need to go.

Lonely 451 says: I wasn’t watching the time. I need to go, also. Good nite. Will I see you tomorrow night?

Lonely 452 says: Nite!

The screen went still. I didn’t see that last line before I shut the chat down. Well, at least, I met someone in the same boat as I. Misery does love company.

Chapter 5

Max

I slept sounder last night than I had since Liz threw me out. Even though we didn’t chat about any thing helpful, just the idea of chatting with a woman, or maybe, I should say that woman, made me feel better. More like I had a future. I just had to figure out how to grab it. The guys were going to go out drinking tonight, but I begged off. I had something better to do. I had lunched with Tess. We didn’t talk about the past, but we had a pleasant conversation.

I was a bit late getting back to the computer. I ended up fixing a quick cheese sandwich and eating at the computer.

Lonely452 says: I was afraid you weren’t coming. We were not specific about being on line tonight.

Lonely451 says: No, I had to fix something to eat. I was late getting home tonight. The guys wanted to go out drinking, but I explained that I had something else to do.

Lonely452 says: Do you go drinking with the boys a lot?

Lonely451 says: No, I never went when I was married. I only go with them, occasionally now, because I am lonesome. I just crave companionship sometimes.

Lonely452 says: Companionship with the guys. Do you find that satisfying?

Lonely451 says: No.

Lonely 452 says: Why do you go then?

Lonely451 says: It beats just sitting at home.

Lonely 452 says: Lol, but, it doesn’t beat sitting home chatting with me, then?

Lonely 451 says: We had a date. I stood you up once. I didn’t want to do that again.

Lonely452 says: No, no, not a date. We had an appointment for a chat. You made the appointment last night, but I didn’t get time to answer.

I noticed after that a long pause. I guess she was wondering how to continue our chat. So was I. I had so many questions but I was afraid to ask them. It wouldn’t take much for her to just close down her computer and I would be just like before. I couldn’t help it. I was still curious about her. She made it clear that we shouldn’t pry too close into each other’s lives. I had silently added without typing it, “Yet.”

Suddenly I saw that she was typing again. I waited.

Lonely452 says: Do you still love your ex-wife?

I thought a long time on that one. I had been out with several women since my divorce. Secretly even from myself, I always thought I was cheating on Liz. That was something I had never done while we were married. Did I still love her? I loved the memory I had of our life together. I loved the tenderness we had when we just sat and talked. I only wished that we had talked more and about more important, personal things. like how I was not satisfying her. What more did she want from me? Why hadn’t she suggested we get help instead of throwing me out and accusing me of cheating?

Lonely451 says: Yes, I still love her very much.

Lonely452 says: Why did you divorce her?

Lonely451 says: I didn’t, she divorced me. She had the idea that I was cheating on her. I wasn’t, but she still went back to an old high school lover to get even.

Lonely 452 says: Did that make you mad that she would sleep with another man, especially an old lover from school?

Lonely451 says: Yes, but I quickly got over it. I still would have gone to counseling or whatever she wished to save our marriage.

Lonely452 says: Did you tell her that?

Lonely451 says: I don’t remember. So many things were said that I just can’t remember what they were.

Lonely452 says: Would you go back to her?

Lonely451 says: I don’t know.

There was a long pause. Neither of us knew what to type next. In this pause, I had time to think. Would I go back to Liz? Would she ever want to take me back and under what conditions? What conditions would I want, if I went back? I would definitely want us to get professional help. I would definitely want it understood that we needed to talk to each other more and more meaningfully.

Lonely 452 says: When you go out now, do you still think of her?

This gave me a long pause. Was that what this chat was going to be about? Was she going to ask me questions that I had to ponder to find answers for? How much about Liz was I thinking when Wanda was screwing the hell out of me? Liz, who had always been so tender, did she
wish to be more like Wanda? Would she have liked me to have more stamina that I could continue lovemaking until we both were exhausted? What did I think about when I was with the professional whore? I hated using that word. I am not sure that the original meaning was so crass. Maybe, the reason I hated it was that it was a declaration that I was a failure. I had to hire it. Love wasn’t something I could share. I had to pay someone to satisfy my carnal needs. That didn’t satisfy my personal needs at that time.

Lonely451 says: I just do not know.

In the next pause, I remembered that Tess said we all pay for it in the end. I wondered what she meant. I would ponder this tonight. Before I got too lost in what Tess had said, 452 began to type again.

Lonely452 says: What will you be looking for, if you get married again? I assume that you want to get married again.

Lonely451 says: Yes to the last question. I can only think of what I had with my ex wife. I am afraid I would look for the same things again. But, what in our relationship made it impossible? That is what I have to figure out. What was so good that I would want it in anyone I married again and what must be changed to make it work this time?

Lonely452 says: Changed how? Changed in her or changed in you? Remember, it is much easier to change things in yourself. You have control over yourself. You do not have control in the other person.

With that, I wanted to think for a while. I wanted to change the subject.

Lonely451 says: What do you think about students today? How are they different from when we went to school?

It was as if she was reading my mind as she took up the topic and we talked about students preparing for college.

What 452 had said was pulling at me like a dog finding a bone under the couch. We spent the next hour talking about what we saw in students, young and old that was different from when we were in school. Talking about young people gave me that change. Perhaps 452 had the same feeling. In those pauses, maybe, she was looking for things in her own failed marriage.

For me, it hadn’t been that long since I was a student. I was looking for her answer. Maybe, it would give some idea of how old she was. That was surely something I wouldn’t ask a lady who I knew only for chatting. Soon, we both were tired so we closed down. We decided to be on the chat line next Wednesday. That would leave the weekend to consider our conversation.

The weekend was spent in thought. I didn’t try to arrange any dates or to accept the several invitations I had received from the guys at the lab.

Liz

I had pushed my chat partner pretty hard. I hope I didn’t scare him off. I needed to understand him to, maybe, understand what happened to my marriage. How did I let Max down so that he would go back to his high school sweetheart and if they had such a torrid romance as Pam insinuated, why was Max so inept that night of the prom? Was he only clumsy because he was with me? Was I the person who lacked experience? That was partially true. I didn’t count my episode with Sean as positive experience. Was I the one who couldn’t read what he wanted? Maybe it was me who couldn’t give him the correct signs that making love to me was what I wanted. Perhaps, that caused Max to be so unsure and clumsy. I am sure Tess wouldn’t have laid him on the fifty yard line, like Pam said, if he was that bad a lover.

The weekend brought a mercy date with a man I casually met at the supermarket. He seemed decent when we were talking at the butcher’s line. He was divorced and I told him I was, also. Our conversation evolved to the point that, when I finally asked the butcher for cold cuts for lunch, I had a date with Stanly Reimes.

Dinner and a show, that seems about par for first dates. You can tell a lot about a man at dinner in a restaurant. Of course, you learn when you see what he is willing to leave for a tip, about his generosity. For Stanley, that tip, was just a cold five spot. He didn’t look at the tab or anything. The dinner cost well over fifty dollars including his drinks. I drank only diet Cokes. There are other things, though. How polite is he to the waitress? How understanding is he with the time he takes to order, especially if it is something simple? Does he realize she has other tables that she has to wait on? How picky is he when his order is delivered? Is he demanding about things that may be beyond her control?

Stanley asked detailed questions about items on the menu. Then, he just ordered a simple steak. No, not simple. It must be medium well, with just a touch of red in the meat. He made her take the first one back and bring him another one. He winked at me when she had left. “ At these prices, you have to keep these people on their toes,” he stated.

I wouldn’t have thought anything with this one thing, but there were others. He was constantly asking the waitress for other things. He wanted some hot dinner rolls. Then, he wanted steak sauce. The first bottle she brought was too bland, so he asked for a spicier one. He continued to run the poor woman to death. Stanley joked with me, “She will earn her tip tonight.” Then, that dinky fiver he left. All my instincts nagged at me to run away. The knowledge that I had cab fare in my purse was comforting. This was my running away money. That was something my mother taught me.

I don’t think he gave any thought to the movie. It was an old one and it was not in any way a classic. I couldn’t enjoy it as Stanley, sniffed, snorted and groaned through the entire movie. On the way out of the theater, Stanley grabbed me by the arm and said, “Come on, doll, let’s go back to my place and let you work off this dinner and show I treated you to.”

I stopped right there. “No,” I said. “I am going home.”

He looked at me as if he had never heard the word, no! “Look, you ungrateful bitch, I spent good money on you, now you owe me some nooky.”

He frightened me, but I stood my ground. Most of the price of the dinner was on his perfect steak. My chicken salad couldn’t have cost nearly that much. He ruined the movie for me, even if it had been a good one in the first place. “I am calling a cab,” I shouted at him. Maybe, if sense wouldn’t penetrate his thick skull, loudness would.

For several minutes, I thought the evening was going to end in violence, that is violence to me. Several men had stopped, each one was glaring at Stanley. Finally, he turned. “You guys screw her. She is not worth much to me.”

I thought, he certainly hadn’t spent much on me, not in money, but in respect.

An elderly man and his wife walked with me to the pay phone. She leaned over to me and said, “Call a cab, honey. We will wait until it comes. That man comes back, Papa will kick the shit out of him, just like he did with those claim-jumpers back in the mountains when we were courting.”

We stood or rather they led me to a bench where we sat chatting until the cab came. They had been married almost fifty years. The old man said, “Don’t let mama fool you. When we were running the claim, she took out one of those claim-jumpers with a pine bough. She hit him right across the head. He went into the river, and we don’t know what happened to him.”

The lady chimed in, “We don’t care, neither.” We all laughed.

When they heard I had been divorced, they each showed concern. “Was he a mean’un?” She asked. “Did he beat you?”

“No, Max was never mean,” I explained.

“Was the scoundrel chasing women all the time? The old man asked.

I replied, “No, we had a misunderstanding, and I believed he was having an affair with a girl friend from high school.”

“Oh, honey, just an affair. Why when papa came back from that whorehouse, smelling of French perfume, I just busted him a good ‘un on the noggin. Then, I drove him over to Doc Prichard for stitches. We didn’t think of breaking up or anything.”

The old man laughed. “That’s the last time I wasted money on them fancy women. I learned that my woman at home knew more than enough to keep me busy. I didn’t never give her a chance to use that frying pan again.”

The old lady looked at me. “Honey, ain’t there any chance that you and your man could get back together? Don’t any of the memories of when you tied the knot mean anything? Don’t you miss him instead of being with a piece of shit like you’uns were with tonight?”

I sadly shook my head. “I only wish there was a chance,” I murmured.

The cab was arriving. “Honey, we’uns ‘ll pray for you. If I had your address, I could send you a wonderful frying pan,” she said as I climbed into the cab.

Wednesday came up soon enough. Lonely451 was in the main chat room. I signed on and we went to a private room.

Lonely452 says: How was your weekend?

Lonely451 says: Quiet. I spent most of the time just thinking. You got me going last week.

Lonely452 says: I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.

Lonely451 says: You didn’t. These were things that I needed to think about. How was your weekend?

Lonely452 says: From Hell.

Lonely451 says: I am sorry; what happened?

Lonely452 says: Why do men treat women like whores?

Lonely451 says: I don’t know. I don’t even like the word whore. I say professional women. Even ‘they,’ should be treated with respect.

Lonely452 says: I met a man at the Supper Market. He seemed like a nice man, so after talking, when he asked me out, I said yes. All the bad signs were there, lousy tipper, complaining to the waitress at the restaurant, talking down about people. I should have seen it. When we were out of the movie, he told me I should go home with him to work off all the money he had spent on me. I felt just like a whore. He ended up screaming names at me in the parking lot.

Lonely451 says: That is terrible! What happened next?

Lonely452 says: Several men came up and he left screaming at me again. An elderly couple came up and sat with me until I could get a cab. You know they had been married almost fifty years. I couldn’t make five.

Lonely451 says: Maybe they didn’t face anything like you did.

Lonely 452 says: No, the old man admitted he came home from a whorehouse one night smelling of perfume. The old lady just hit him over the head with a frying pan. Then, he said that anything he could have gotten at the whorehouse, he got better at home with his wife. I guess that is the way they lasted for the fifty years.

Lonely451 says: Well, divorce is a lot more final than a slight concussion. You are right. That is how they lasted fifty years.

Max

This night I took over the counter sleeping aids for sure. 452 had stirred up my mind. I would consider what we chatted about, but I needed sleep tonight. I now had two weeks of thought to process. As I was dropping off, thanks to the sleep aids, I wondered if had I ever treated a woman like a whore? Did I ever do to any woman what her date did to Lonely452? The last thought almost lost in the memory of sleep was, “I hope not.”

I didn’t hurry home from work. I had nothing to come home for. Yesterday, I was caught up in the excitement of our chat. TV dinner for me tonight. When we were together Liz and I would take turns fixing dinner. Sometimes it was almost like a contest to see who could please the other the best. Alone, what was the use? I just no longer cared. I had brought the tray to my computer table when I heard the buzzer ring. I went to the door. A Pretty, perky, little blonde was at the door. “My name is Sheila Jones. I live just a few rooms down the hall. The Building Superintendent said you were a nice guy.”

“Nice Guy,” is that what a man likes to be called? “Super Stud,” or “Love Machine,” maybe, “Really hot,” perhaps, but “Nice guy?” That wasn’t the title a man would fight for. “Thank you, I guess,” I stuttered. “What can I do for you?” I asked.

“This is so embarrassing. I asked the Superintendent about you.” She was moving her feet nervously. “I have seen you several times in the hall and I have a favor to ask. My office is having a party. I am about the only single woman working there. There are several men who have been trying to pick up on me ever since I took this job.” I could see that the next words were difficult for her to get out. “I need an escort who I can trust, someone to be with Saturday night, so I won’t have to keep dodging their advances. Thus, I asked the Super about you.”

Was it as if she, also, was admitting failure? She had to ask a stranger, with the recommendation of the supper to be her escort. Sheila had rushed to get her request out before she lost her nerve. She looked so vulnerable standing there. She was wearing a straight skirt. It was tight enough that it showed the lines of her hips. Her sweater was swollen, by full breasts, her nipples were showing their outline, through her clothes. I invited her in.

The first thing she saw was my TV dinner sitting on the computer table. “Am I disturbing your dinner?” She asked.

I laughed. “Library paste and cardboard taste the same no matter how many times they are warmed over.”

“Can’t you cook?” She asked looking at me with those big brown eyes. She seemed, at the same time, to be expressing sympathy and ridicule.

Why did she have to have those brown eyes. Liz used to look at me like that when she wanted something. If this conversation lasted much longer I was going to break down. I didn’t want to start crying in front of a stranger. “Yes, when I was married, I cooked a lot. We used to trade different chores. Now, I am divorced it just isn’t worth it.” I quickly said before the tears could come, “Now about Saturday night, I would be proud to accompany you and chase dragons, wolves and salesmen away from you. Just tell me how I should dress and when I should pick you up,” I told her.

She was a little thing, but she rose up on tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek. “The Super was right. You are a nice guy. Tell you what. If you are free, I will fix you a real meal Sunday evening.”

She quickly left. That was good. Liz used to kiss me on her tiptoes. Of course, it was on the lips, but the idea just spun me for a loop. She smelled like spices and fruits just like Liz had. I ended up trashing my TV dinner and with a glass of milk, again with sleep aids, I went to bed.

Surrogate companion, that was the plot of numerous movies and romance stories. The plot always went, “The surrogate worked so hard convincing others that they were involved that they, ultimately, convinced themselves of this. I had to ask myself what would be the outcome of my experience in this line. Sheila had already promised me dinner Sunday. Would I also, find romance with her? I knew nothing about her. Well, it seemed that I didn’t know enough about Liz. How much do you need to know for just romance? How much do you need to know for marriage? I was determined to just let things fall as they may. I would see what the evening brought.

I picked Sheila up at her apartment just down the hall at 8:30 Saturday evening. We drove to the ballroom of one of the bigger hotels. Like she told me, I had dressed in a sports coat and slacks. Sheila had a knee length dress that was full cut and she had something under it to make it flare out. The neckline was plunging so her breasts mounded very well above the cut. I could see why, if she was the only single woman there, the men would give her a rush. In front of my apartment, she was nervous. I saw her as, almost, child-like. That I saw so much of Liz in her, was what hurried my acceptance, as her escort. Now we were in her country. She was assured and self possessed. Liz was always so beautiful when we had a few times to go out after we were married. Liz always preserved that child like innocence. Not so with Sheila. When we were alone at the party, I could see the child in her. The minute some of her fellow workers appeared, she changed.

I knew she was someway involved in advertisement. I guess, she just couldn’t help it. She was advertising herself. The dress was to catch the attention of anyone she met. Her escort, me, was to declare, that she was taken. That was my job. Just before we entered, she turned to me and said. “Look, Max, these men are all pretty liberal. I didn’t ask you anything about your beliefs, but it would help me if you could just stay off politics, religion or ideology for the evening. I like this job. I just have to fend off the wildlife for a while until I get settled.”

I nodded. This was not my place to try to convert her office to anything. What did I care? I had the pleasure of the company of a beautiful women, a promise of a dinner tomorrow and the romantic idea that surrogates sometimes led to something else. I remembered my Philosophy Professor when I was in college. The asshole was a fucking communist. I didn’t agree with his philosophy or anything else. I needed at least a “B” to keep my grade point up. There were some war veterans in the class. They baited him and he retaliated. Trouble was, that he had the grade book. Several of them went to the dean and had their grades reviewed. It just wasn’t worth that effort. I kept my mouth shut and answered his questions like I thought he wanted. Was I a coward as I turned in my final? I, discretely, threw him the finger as I left. He didn’t see it, only one or two of the students did. I got my “B” and made sure I took no more philosophy classes. That is what I would do tonight. Not to protect myself, but Sheila.

I did a lot of shrugging, looking superior and when asked directly, I just winked and said, well you know as well as I do. Sheila later told me they ask, “Babe, who is that know-it-all, son-of a bitch?”

Apparently she told them I was a lawyer for the fair trade commission and I had been investigating truth in advertising. That shut them up and they were careful how they treated Sheila after that.

It was very late when we got home. Sheila again went up on tip toes as she kissed me. This time it was on my mouth with her arms around my neck. “Max, you were wonderful. Remember, 6:00 tomorrow evening. I will cook you the best supper you have had in years.”
---------------------
Stories by Ken

Janetfl
L-J-L 76
begonia9508
valentinebaby
mary mary
Earth2Mama
Natalie36
keepsmiling7
nitpick23

Author note: Communication is key to everything in this story. They do defend their relationship when they realize someone is attacking it. At this time neither of them realize there is anything to fight. Lizza, they have to learn to talk first and then later they need to learn to talk to each other. Earth2Mama, I am not sure that Liz is convinced about Max not being involved someway with Tess. Tempers flare before reason can take hold. Then reason fears its own ability to be believed. There is always the, "what ifs."

Chapter 6

Liz

After Stanley, I was a bit turned off on men. Did they all just expect to scatter a few dollars, and a woman would jump into their bed? I was thinking of my parents. They had been married over thirty years. They were very unhappy with me when I got a divorce. We didn’t talk much anymore. I think they thought I was now a fallen woman. They had liked Max, but when I told them of his unfaithfulness, daddy offered to get some of his lodge buddies to beat the crap out of Max. When stories appeared that I had gone to Sean, both of my parents became angry at me. They hated Sean. When he was in town, he was not allowed to enter their restaurant. All my mother would do was wring her hands. “Why would you lie with that trash?” was all that she could say. No matter how much denial I made, I couldn’t convince her that I hadn’t done something to drive Max off.

I had to wonder, how many men did my mother sleep with before she married my father? How happy was she with him? How good was he in bed? Did she do everything he needed?

Then, I thought. Did he ever screw around on her? Was my father faithful his whole marriage? These were things that I wanted to ask my folks but I couldn’t. I don’t know who would have had the heart attack first, one of them or me.

Then I thought about Bob Silverman. I had promised myself that I would never think of him again. Until he confessed that he was married, I thought we had a good thing going. I was about to fall in love with him. Well, I guess I had fallen in love with him. Now I believed how empty a relationship with him would be. Well, it would be a relationship. That was better than I was getting now. Chatting was depressing to me the last two times. Here I was, chatting with a man who still loved his ex-wife. He loved her even though, as he said, it was she who divorced him. I could only wonder if Max still loved me at all. I was working my way into a real emotional crash. This week, I was called a whore because I wouldn’t put out for my pig-of-a-date. Bob had always treated me like a queen. No, he promised nothing beyond what we had at the moment. When we made love, I felt loved. He never treated me like a whore.

The phone rang.

“Hey, Liz, Bob Silverman here. Look, my wife is out of town this weekend. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Could I come by and pick you up?” His smooth voice was like music.

The first week after I found out he was married, I alternately cried and cursed. I was determined that I would never be the other woman. I knew the hurt I felt when I learned of Max and Tess. While both Bob and I were silent, my mind began to move. Apparently, they had a different kind of marriage than I thought I had with Max. Bob had acknowledged that they would both seek separate lovers from time to time. I wouldn’t be the cause of any marriage break-up.

Well, what about my feelings? Bob had just said that he couldn’t get me out of his mind. Obviously, he thought my skills in bed were fairly good. Later, I was to re-evaluate this. Did he see my skills that good or did he see me as a challenge. At the time, I thought of the wonderful feelings I had had with him. Even if it had no promise, maybe for my own ego, I needed Bob’s attention this weekend. I would go into this with my eyes open. I would take what he gave me and not worry about a future. At least, for two days, I would feel like a queen.

“Yes, Bob, I could make it through Sunday night.” I said over the phone.

“Hey, that is great Liz. I was a little afraid you wouldn’t speak to me after last time. I am glad we are both adult enough to understand. I will pick you up about 2:00 Saturday afternoon. I will get you back by midnight Sunday. That will give each of us time to be ready for work Monday.” With that, he hung up.

I couldn’t tell if this helped my depression or made it worse. I knew that being with Bob led to no promise. It was better than going to Sean or some of the other men I had met. At this point, going to Sean would look like the rumors of my having an affair before my divorce, would have been true. I was getting pretty lonely. I hadn’t had a date in sometime. I am afraid that I didn’t count Stanley as much of a date. A date is where some man makes you feel like you are important. If you sleep with him, you only did it because you really wanted to be part of his body. At least for a while, you wanted to feel like he loved you and you him. Many of the other dates I’d had were blind dates that led nowhere, anyway. I still had the emails from those 15-minute dates I had gone on.

Two o’clock that afternoon Bob was by. He was driving his BMW. He seldom drove it to school. I guess he thought it was too ostentatious to parade before a bunch of “lab rats” and “faculty.” The term “lab rats” bothered me, even though being with Bob, caused me to use it, also. Bob used it to mean the students who were working so hard to get their degrees.

High fences, hedges and other landscape gave Bob and his wife a lot of privacy. The first thing we did when we got to his house was go to the room we had used before and had sex. The immediacy of this act, caused me a little trouble in calling it love at this point.

Afterward, Bob took me by the hand and instead of going to the shower, he opened the sliding doors and led me still naked to the pool. Before I could say anything he picked me up and walked down the steps into the pool. Now, holding me by both hands he led me toward the deep end. We moved, he leading me all the time, until neither of us could touch the bottom. He whispered in my ear, “Hold your breath, Liz.” Like a pair of dolphins we dove down near the bottom and kissing to share our air, we slowly rose until we were back to the surface. Bob made free with his hands all over my body. The feeling was erotic. When, I unavoidably, touched his organ, he smiled, “That is right Liz, feel and touch everything. I want you to experience as much as you can this weekend.”

That should have warned me also, but it flew over my head as did several things. One of which was, how did a house this big, manage itself. When we were tired, I started to climb out of the pool intending to just lie in the sun, Bob came up to me, “Liz you will get sunburned in places that might be hard to explain.” He extended his hand and I walked back into the house with him.

The first time I was with Bob, we had sat naked in the kitchen, or what ever it was, having breakfast. This time he handed me a white terrycloth robe and taking one for himself, we sat down to a prepared supper of baked salmon and several dressings. He served coffee and a small Danish desert.

Afterward, he led me into a room, which had a large screen TV before a raised area pilled high with pillows. He helped me up on the platform and with his remote, started a movie. The movie was pretty explicit, but it didn’t seem to be porn. It had a strong plot. Ha, I thought. How much porn had I ever seen. Max and I had embarrassed ourselves watching several “R” rated movies. Nothing seemed to bother Bob, so I just lay there in his arms as the actors and actresses played their parts and made love several times. With Bob, everything seem natural. This time, I wasn’t embarrassed either.

Soon my robe was opened and Bob had his hands inside. He was touching me in places and ways that Max had never done. At first, I was uneasy. Then, I just leaned back and, soon, I enjoyed the different ministrations I received from Bob. My whole body was tingling with anticipation from his touches when he stopped the movie. I was on my back, my robe opened and he was above me his robe hanging like a tent, isolating us from all else. As Bob slipped into me, I slipped into wonderful feelings of love. Love, this time that is what I felt. Now I realized that the whole day was to prepare me for this moment. The skill and the time planning both attested to the fact that I was important enough, for him to create this production. Bob, in this afternoon and evening, had wiped away all my insecurities. I don’t know how he did it, but we made love several times that evening.

I loved my body for the first time, since Max and I had broken up. I loved being alive more than I had in a long time. I loved what Bob had done to me this day. ‘I loved Bob.’ That brought me crashing back to earth. Everything else was good, but loving Bob was a sure thing to disaster. As I drifted off to sleep, my thoughts were, “Yes I loved what had happened to me, but that was all. I could never think of any love with Bob going further.”

Max

I slept late. Being at the height of tension, the whole evening, was wearing on me. It was as if I had played a hard game of touch football except there were no muscle aches. Sheila said that I had built up her position in her corporation. That was good. She asked me for a favor and I had come through with flying colors. I ate a light brunch because I had no idea what she had in store for me this evening. I have a sister, Isabel. She is married to her high school sweetheart, Alex. I called her. “Izzy, I have been invited to a home cooked dinner by a neighbor lady.”

“Max, is she someone you might really like?” Isabel asked. That is one reason I did not call Isabel very often. It always sounded like an inquisition. I know she didn’t mean it that way. Isabel and I had been very close growing up. Like everything else, college had separated us in distance as well as culture. Isabel was still married. I caught myself wondering how good her sex life was. She and Alex seemed happy. Was she making him happy by screwing the hell out of him? Was Alex fulfilling all my sister’s needs? Visions like that, are bad directions to go with your sister. I always felt that she was reaching out to lift her wayward brother back up. She was very disappointed when I got divorced.

“Izzy, we just met. I called to ask what should I bring?” I asked.

Isabel was silent for a few minutes. I was used to that. Isabel didn’t like to make mistakes. She thought out every word before she said anything. “Does she drink alcohol?” she asked.

“I guess so. We went to an office party last night. She was drinking, but moderately,” I answered.

“Well, I assume you have no idea what she is serving.” It was more of a statement than a question. “Max, I might suggest an ice wine. This is a wine that you can relax with and sip as you talk, after your meal. It is about $50 a bottle, but it is a fine gift to take in exchange for a dinner.” At the time, I didn’t know it, but Isabel told her husband, Alex, “If they sit and drink long enough, it makes Max getting laid a much better proposition.” Alex just laughed at how his wife worried about her brother.

When I appeared in front of Sheila’s apartment, the smells of cooking were coming from under the door. I handed her the bottle of wine. She again had the child-like innocence appearance. She looked at it and said, “This is an ice wine. It is made from grapes allowed to freeze naturally on the vine. They are the last crop of the season.” With this pronouncement, I saw the administrator again appear, briefly. That was a lot more than I knew.

Sheila led me to her table and it was set with two places facing each other. She told me to sit as she brought in the meal. It was a roast. The spices were fragrant. Some spices I could identify, but most of them I couldn’t. Her vegetables had been carefully steamed. They were tasty and crunchy, the steaming did not change the texture. As we ate, again the child-like, Sheila told me about herself. “I quit my first job because I found myself in an affair with the boss. It was an affair that could go nowhere, but down. When I found this job, I was determined to not let emotional feelings get in my way until…” She looked at me with a smile. I think she was watching for any reaction from me. To me that looked like a good plan. Then, she continued, “…until I had risen in strength to face the men working there as equals. Before I have another affair at work, I will be equal to any of them. If someone gets fired because of the affair, I will have an even chance of not being the one.” I saw a bitterness as well as an aggression in her eyes.

That threw me for a loop. Sheila was not the damsel that I had first seen. At least at work, she intended to be a true piranha. Some bells went off in my mind, but I had no emotional connection to Sheila, yet. I thought, in my mind, piranha are little fish, but they can continually nip until there is nothing left but I pile of bones.

For desert we had a cheery tart that she confessed she did not make, but bought at the bakery. The rest of the meal, more than made up, for me taking her to the party last night.

When we were finished eating, she accepted my help taking the dishes back to the kitchen. After dinner was almost like my life with Liz. I offered to help wash them as I had done while married, but she shrugged that off. “Max, you are my guest. Let’s just sit in the living room and enjoy your wine.”

We sat facing each other on her small couch. Sheila curled her knees up under her and each with a glass of the wine we started talking. I was having a bit of trouble concentrating because this was the way Liz and I talked before we had gotten married. Curled up like that, she was close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume. It was so much like that of Liz’s.

“Your party reminded me of a professor I had in college. He was pretty radical and some of the students got off baiting him. I needed the grade too much, so I just sat there and tried to think what he wanted me to say. That is how I got by last night,” I confessed.

“And, Max, you did it so well. The pressure to date will now be off me so I can concentrate on getting ahead. Max, I don’t kid myself. The corporate ladder is very difficult and more so for a woman. I not only have to have skills, but I will need other things to climb to the top. I intend to claw, scratch and screw my path all the way up. I just can’t indulge in any office romance until I reach a level of power. Now that they think I am going with a lawyer, they will be vying to see who you are and you not being in the corporate system, they will never know.”

Somehow, the conversation got around to me. I assumed that Sheila was a professional at directing conversations the way she wanted them to go. I told her about my marriage and how the divorce seemed to completely get away from me. I noticed that to the one glass of wine I was nursing, Sheila had drunk several. The bottle was almost empty. As she was talking, asking questions and making points about my life, I noticed a smokiness about her looks. It was almost sultry. It was as if she was trying to come to some decision. It, also, was Sheila, the administrator, and Sheila, the child, in conflict about something. I got to thinking that something was me.

Suddenly, Sheila put down her glass and uncurled, her knees still on the coach. She was towering over me as she leaned towards me. As her arms went around my neck and she pulled me into an embrace she said, “Max, it is inevitable that we are going to make love tonight.” With a twist she collapsed in my lap. Her kisses were hot and her hips gyrated in my lap to arouse me, as if that was needed. I lifted her in my arms. She weighed about the same as had Liz, so long ago. I carried her into her bedroom and she released me long enough to go into the bathroom.

While she was gone, I surveyed what I saw. The bed had a simple cover, which I pulled down. On the night, stand opposite the side where all or her cosmetics were gathered, there was a box of condoms. When I had been married, I had never used a condom. Liz was on the pill and we both said that if something happened, it would be a natural blessing and we would arrange our lives to accommodate it. Since I had been divorced, I also, like so many single guys, carried several condoms in my wallet. I examined them carefully to make sure they were not cracked or old. The women I met now, I not only wanted to protect myself from disease, but I surely didn’t want to create any life with.

When Sheila returned dressed in a black silk robe, she indicated the bathroom and I understood. I was to wash up, also. I took off my pants, shirt, shoes and socks. I washed myself the best I could and I found that she had left a packaged toothbrush and toothpaste on the sink. Now prepared, I returned to the bedroom and there on the sheets was Sheila wearing an almost transparent gown, the robe discarded and carefully folded at the foot of the bed. Her arms reached out to me. While we were making love, I thought she was not like Wanda, nor the professional co-ed, I preferred that to saying whore. Making love to Sheila was not all that different to making love with Liz. Almost that is. When I was married to Liz, there was some intangible thing that was missing with Sheila. When making love with Liz, it was like going to the bank, making a deposit for my old age. With Sheila, it was more like renting a very good movie. I knew that as soon as I was through, I would have to return it to the store. I could remember the pleasure, but that is all it would be, just memories. I wondered if that was all she had to offer. How did she intend to wow the corporate ladder when she felt she was powerful enough? It was as if she read my mind. “Max, I am making love like a woman would for a man who she really loved.” This was the child, Sheila talking. She continued, “Not like I would for those wolves I will eventually approach in the business world. I could never afford to be in love with you. I am not what you, eventually, want. For tonight, let’s just forget that and find out all about each other,” she whispered again, the child returning.

Find out about each other, that I did. After the first wave of romance, we lay there, she nipping at my chest and playing with the hair at my groin. When she could feel that I was up for seconds, she rolled over on top of me and sitting up, she rode me like a rodeo queen. Near Midnight, I got up and she whispered, we both have to get up in the morning. She kissed me as I dressed and then, she let me out. It was only a few steps to my own apartment. I collapsed in front of my computer and just sat there thinking. I absently turned it on and as the screen came up, so did a signal that someone desired to chat came up.

------------------
Stories by Ken

nitpick23
begonia9508
L-J-L 76
Earth2Mama
Valentinebaby
mary mary
keepsmiling7

Author note: Liz doesn't really trust herself. She was raised in a proper home. Now, she asks herself were her parents correct or even were they truthful. Looking around her she sees women who claim to be free and self indulgent. There is probably something in Liz which asks, "Is the modern world about self and was she a fool while she was with Max?"

Liz thought she had it right when she was married to Max. The marriage failed so something was not correct. This part of my story comes from conversations I had with a lady I used to work with. She was bitter about her divorce and was distancing herself from the way she grew up. She later learned of the Infidelities of her parents. The magic of their advice dissolved and now, the lady I was talking to, felt she had to find new principals to rule her life. What Liz does with Bob is important as this will bring up questions later.

I feel more comfortable with the Max part. From experience I think he will feel that inexperience was the thing that contributed most, to his failed marriage. Men feel, many times, that they are supposed to know everything. They do not like to show their learning curve. This is a result of the lack of communication. He does see that the women he has had, so far, are not who he is looking for. Max might have gone off on a campaign to see how many women he could have. This many times is trying to disprove a man's self doubt. His constant comparison with his former wife show he really wants his marriage back. Liz, probably wants it back, also. I am just not that good with female feelings. (Anyone wants to volunteer to help me on the next story please feel free to speak up.)

Chapter 7

Liz

After last night we slept late. Finally, Bob kissed me and whispered, “Liz lets not waste too much time just sleeping. There are so many other things to do.”

Stretching like the cat, that I felt I was right now, I accepted his hand as he led me to that wonderful shower. Deja vú, we were again naked in the small kitchen, eating a breakfast of fruits and small, not too sweet, cakes.

This time, Bob did not carry me, but he led me out to the pool. He released my hand and dove into the water. With considerably less grace, I dove in beside him. We did slow laps, together. At the end of each lap, we would kiss and I could feel Bob’s manhood pressing against my stomach.

Bob, taking a large breath, slipped under the water. I joined him and once again in his arms, we kissed sharing air. When I began to show traces of tiring, (I don’t think Bob would ever tire,) he led me back up those steps and once inside, he presented me again with a white terrycloth robe. We went back to the TV room, but he showed no inclination of turning it on. We lay on the platform making love enveloped in the robes. The exertion of last night, the exercise this morning and the making of love, caused me to fall asleep in his arms.

It was early afternoon when I woke up. Bob was nowhere to be found. I sat up and as if some signal had been given, he entered the room. He led me to a table set with h’ordourves. There were meats, fishes, and strangely prepared and spiced vegetables. We ate and talked. Bob had traveled extensively. He was trying to finish his doctorate in biology. He never mentioned his wife. I assumed she still traveled and when he had finished his schooling, he would again join her. She was his main course. I was like one of those little sandwiches on the platter just a distraction. I told myself that at least I was getting my ego stroked. Bob had indicated that at least for the weekend he wanted me. Max had wanted me at first. I could only wonder what happened? Sean wanted me now, but I couldn’t conceive of his desire to be compared to this.

We finished the time until late afternoon back in the TV room. Bob sat again telling me stories about foreign places. All the time, his hand was inside my robe moving all over my body. Soon, I found my hand, like wise, inside his robe playing with the hairs of his groin. I could easily feel that I had his attention, but it seemed like eternity until he dropped his robe and laying me back on mine, he again made love to me. Lying there on that white robe as he gave me his attention, again, I felt, that I was one of those h’ordourves, perhaps on a half shell.

The sun was setting as Bob stood up and, taking me by the hand, said, “Liz one more swim before the evening. This time, I just floated as he tread water looking all the while at my body. Maybe, it would not be for long, but for the moment he appreciated what I had. The privacy of his yard allowed me to feel secure, naked before him. Later, I was to wonder if this security was that real or not.

Walking back into the house again, we had fresh robes. I wondered how many he had and when would he run out of them. He led me back to the TV room. I did notice that the robes we had left there had been moved. My mind raced to think how was this done. I had seen no one but Bob, while I was here. Did he have a discrete household staff? Were individuals of his staff running back and forth, seeing me as just furnishing for his weekend? He returned with a covered tray and several plates. When he uncovered the tray, I saw that a dinner had been set out. We ate and chatted as soft music played just below the level of perception. It was late when Bob led me to a room I hadn’t seen. It had a bed, but the bed had satin sheets.

We entered the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. We showered this time taking turns lathering each other bodies completely with a fragrant soap of some sort. The intimate lathering both, when he did it to me, then when I returned it to him, was very arousing. We stood under one of those power dryers and soon, we were warm, dry and ready to give it a last time. We lay on the fresh sheets. Bob and I were kissing each other. I wondered slightly at the foreplay. It wasn’t with a suddenness or, in anyway, a feeling that I was being forced. Bob slid my body down until my face was in his groin. The smell was a mixture of male musk and the fragrant soap we had just applied. Bob held my head but I didn’t struggle. It was as if I was a separate person watching some drama play out. His organ was in my mouth, but not to the point where I gagged. He didn’t ejaculate in my mouth, but I could taste the texture and faint flavor of his juices. He held me there only for a minute or so. Maybe, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. Reaching down, he brought me up even with himself and we made love. Taking a tissue from the table beside the bed, he wiped my face. “Liz, never be afraid of something strange or new.”

Bob stood up, offered me his hand and we showered for the last time. I dressed, for the first time since I had arrived. Bob took me home and, looking at his watch he said, “Well pumpkin, we made it before midnight. Now we both will return to our normal lives.”

I sat in the darkness of my apartment. I had so much to think about. What I had done with Bob, was nothing like what I had seen, when the lady had paid to give the male stripper oral sex. What had I done with Bob? I had never questioned, when he pushed me down to his groin. It was something I had accepted as right, because that is what he wanted me to do. I reached over and flipped on the computer. For a reason that made no sense later, I opened the chat room. I sat there just watching the almost blank screen. I did indicate that I wanted to chat.

I was surprised to see my name flicker and then high light as a chat room opened with my name and that of Lonely451. Well, not my name, my user name, lonely452.

Lonely451 says: Up late tonight aren’t you?

Lonely452 says: Yes and so are you.

Lonely451 says: I was on a date and I am sitting here thinking about it.

Lonely452 says: Lol, I was also.

Lonely451 says: Was your date as confusing as mine?

Lonely452 says: I guess so. We are both sitting at the computer past our bedtimes.

Lonely451 says: Do you want to chat about it?

Lonely452 says: Yes, but not now. I need to think about it for a while. I am not sure what happened.

Lonely 451 says: Will you want to chat about it Wedesday?

Lonely 452 says: I don’t know, but I do want to chat. I don’t think I can tell my girl friends. This is the second time something happened to me and I can’t tell them. Maybe you, someone I will probably never see, can hear my story and help me think about it.

Lonely 451 says: We better get to bed. We both have to get to work tomorrow.

Lonely 452 says: Goodnight.

As the screen went dim, I could only wonder, could I tell a stranger something, so intimate, as what happened to me tonight? Maybe, this was a clue to my trouble with Max. He had never tried to force me to do anything. He had never asked me, either. Bob, really hadn’t forced me. He just set it up and I went along. Was I angry or upset? Maybe, upset, but upset not for what I did, but why.
-----------------------
Stories by Ken

begonia9508
keepsmiling7
mary mary
Earth2Mama

Chapter 8

Max

The three days at work were difficult. First I had to dodge calls from Isabel. When I finally answered her, she said, “Okay, Max, what happened?”

“Izzy,” I answered. “I escorted a lady to an office party. She didn’t want to be the object of too much attention from the single members of her work place. She, in return, fixed me dinner. I stayed a while after the dinner and before you ask, your suggestion of the wine was perfect.”

“Is that all? Come on Max, what else happened? What did you do after dinner?” she demanded.

“All right, Izzy, after dinner we ended up in bed together. Now, Izzy I don’t pry into your sex life. Why are you prying into mine?” I asked.

I could just see Isabel when I said that. She would look up and sniff twice. Then, she said, “It is obvious that I am having a sex life. It is you that we are worried about. Max, you are not cut out to be a monk. Find someone to shack up with, or marry. I just do not want to think of you sitting alone eating stale TV dinners and drinking stale beer.”

“Izzy, there isn’t a stale beer anywhere in my apartment,” I told her.

Isabel was not one to let others get the last word. “Max, you know what I mean. You need to get back into things,” she stated.

That stung, coming from my sister. I guess, I was changing. I hadn’t talked to Maria for over a year, Michael either. I assume that Michael didn’t want to say something that would set Maria off. I, at least, hoped they still were befriending Liz. I would feel terrible if she was as unhappy and lonely as I was. The only thing I had to look forward to, was the chat I had with Lonely452.

I had grabbed a sandwich at the deli and with a coke from my fridge. I still was burning that Isabel accused me of drinking stale beer. I, of course, carefully overlooked the comment, about the TV dinners. They were pretty stale.

I fired up the computer and sat back with my sandwich and coke. The love I had with Sheila, at least at first, was so close to what I’d had with Liz, I was hurting over it. Sheila got a little wild at the end. Maybe, if Liz had gotten a bit wilder, I would have responded better. Sheila had made it clear that we had nothing going on. Sheila wanted to climb her ladder to success. I wished her well, but that wasn’t the way I wanted to live my life. Can you imagine going to those parties several times a year?

My name on the screen flickered. A new window came up showing that 452 had started a private chat room this time.

Lonely451 says: Hi, how are you feeling?

Lonely542 says: Fine and you?

Lonely451 says: Are you feeling better than you did last Sunday night or was it Monday morning?

Lonely 452 says: Lol, I don’t know. I guess we both tied a weekend on.

Last time we had had a long chat, 452 had questioned me how I felt about Liz. I assumed she was trying to see feelings from an ex-husband’s point of view. This was dangerous because I had no idea of what her ex husband was like. Did he beat her? Was he a drunk? We had never considered her reasons for a divorce. Did her ex have the same feelings as I had? Well, that got me to thinking, how might Liz feel about me? What did women think about their exs? Were they glad they were out of the house? On cold nights, did they ever think he wasn’t such a bad guy, after all?

Lonely 451 says: You asked me questions last time. Now, it is my turn. What do you feel about your ex?

There was a pause. I am sure she was grateful that I didn’t open with last weekend. I wasn’t ready and I imagine she wasn’t either, to face what ever happened. I saw that she was typing.

Lonely452 says: For the longest time, I was very angry. I don’t think all my anger was directed at him. Some of it was at myself. It takes a lot of work to hold on to a marriage. Somewhere, I think I might be partially responsible for losing mine.

I pondered at her answer. How did Liz feel about me? When we divorced she had shouted many things about me, including her accusations that I had been sleeping with Tess. I hadn’t seen Liz since we made the divorce official. Maria told me that she was badly hurt by what I had done. I didn’t feel that I had done anything, but I didn’t want Liz to feel bad. I just stayed away from her.

Lonely451 says: Have you seen him since your divorce?

Lonely 452 says: No, I have set him free to sample all the women he wants without guilt. If he went back to his high school sweetheart and if they are still together, there is no way I could compete with her.

I could only wonder if Liz set me free. Is there a difference between being set free and being run out of the house? I felt hurt that 452 believed she needed to compete with someone. I laughed at the thought of me in high school. I didn’t even recognize when a girl wanted me to sleep with her.

Lonely451 says: Why don’t you think you could compete with her?

Lonnely452 says: She was the wild one in school. If she knows half as much about men as her reputation says, I just couldn’t be in the same league with her.

Lonely451 says: Do you think that is what your ex wanted? Did he ever express that he wanted someone that knew more about what men want?

Lonely452 says: If he didn’t want that, why did he seek her out?

Lonely451 says: Do you still have any love for him?

Lonely452 says: I don’t know. I don’t wish him anything bad. In fact, I hope he finds who he is looking for.

Lonely451 says: When you are out with some guy, do you ever think of your ex?

There was a long pause over this one. I don’t think she knows if she still loves him or not. There must have been a lot of anger with her.

Lonely452 says: Yes, when I experience something new, I can’t help but wonder, if I had experienced that with him, would he have strayed? Then, I catch myself fantasizing that I am doing new things with my ex. That is non-productive so I try to limit that sort of thinking.

Lonely451 says: Do you think you would ever take him back?

The pause was several minutes. I checked my computer several times to see if it had crashed. She was having a hard time answering this one.

Lonely452 says: If I did want him back, I would want him to tell me what went wrong. I would want him to tell me why didn’t he ask me for more, if that was the problem. I would want to know that he really wanted me back and he would do everything to help us work things out.

Lonely451 says: What if he didn’t know what went wrong? What if things just got away from him and he thought, you no longer loved him?

Before she could answer, I typed again.

Lonely451 says: What if everything you both thought the other did was a lie? Neither of you had betrayed the other.

I don’t know why I put that last statement. What if Liz hadn’t been stepping out with Sean? What if whatever she thought I had done, had been a vicious rumor, started by someone in spite?

There was the longest pause. Suddenly, I saw her typing.

Lonely452 says: I can’t do this tonight. I want to chat, but not tonight. Can you please come back tomorrow night?

Before I could answer, the computer indicated that the chat room had been closed. That last statement made her think. Well, it made me think also. I never had slept with Tess. I knew that Liz had gone to Sean when she was a child in school. Would she return to him as an adult? I didn’t like Sean, but I didn’t see him from a woman’s eyes. Tess had said, “Bad boys have more confidence.” I wondered if this was what Liz had seen in him.

Natalie36
mary mary
keepsmiling7
begonia9508
Earth2Mama

Author note: Probably from my stand point I have made Max more introspective. He is asking the questions they both should have asked all along. At this time both characters see the other as different from themselves. In the chatting they do not yet see the parallels in their individual breakups as more than just generic. thankfully tempers have cooled and they each are thinking what they could have done different, not with the idea of getting back together, I don't think either of them hope for that yet, but rather what they can do better next time. I think Natalie is right, the characters chatting to each other and are not making the connection. They haven't reached the point where their stories start to come together.


Chapter 9

Liz

I collapsed. Why did 451 have to make that last statement. I think that somewhere in my thoughts there had always been the fear that the divorce was a mistake. The minute we turned it over to lawyers, we lost control of everything. It was only by both of our insistences that the no fault was preserved. It was only by both of us insisting that we didn’t want any community property. We each had our own savings and the small things were just not important.

What did I have now? I needed to chat with 451 again because he made me think, -- something that maybe I hadn’t done enough of before. I also needed to get a better idea of what a man wanted in a woman. A man like Max, I knew what a man like Sean wanted. As much as I hated the time I had spent with Bob Silverman, at least he had shown me new things. Bob had a way of showing what he wanted, without asking. I just had to keep it clear that Bob Silverman would not take me to any place with just himself. I couldn’t help myself. What if Max had made more demands? Would I have been able to fulfill them? Then, I asked also, Did I have demands or desires that I should have told Max about? Could Max ever have made me feel like Bob Silverman did? I remembered our wedding night. When Max took off my gown, his eyes had feasted on my body. Didn’t I, then, feel like he was the center of my world, and I his?

I knew that Bob Silverman and I would never go out as a couple—dinner, dancing...not even a darkened movie theatre without precautions. I wondered about the first time he took me out. I, now, am sure he went to places where he was sure not to be recognized. He would always return to his wife until he met someone who gave him so much more, that he would feel free to leave her. In his way, ultimately, he was as selfish as Sean. I still questioned the reason I went with him this last weekend. Was I trying to get something I had lost from Max?

At first, I thought of talking with Maria. She and Michael had a healthy sex life. They fought a lot, but they did not fight in bed. Was I sure enough, about myself, to open myself up to someone I knew so well? 451 was safe. We probably would never meet. I had little embarrassment when thinking of chatting with him. I had had some contact with Isabel, Max’s sister, when Max and I were married. I had once suggested that I talk to her, but Maria nixed that idea quickly. “Liz, Isabel chewed Max a new one when he got divorced. She told him off three ways to Sunday. She is still his sister and after the divorce was over, she was ultimately on his side. I don’t think you could count on her as a safe person to talk to. She tries everyway she can to get Max to find someone he can be with.

This was as close as I ever got to getting Maria to tell me anything about Max. She once begged me to leave the subject alone. “You are divorced. It is time to move along,” she had said.

After chatting with 451, I was feeling depressed. I still was thinking about Bob Silverman. Sean came by again. Once, I said he could be very charming. He was in his charming mode. “Liz, how about us trying again,” he asked.

This time I said, “Sean, I will think about it.” I just wanted to get Sean out of my system.

Before I met with 451 again, I did want to talk to Maria. I called her and asked if I could come by this afternoon. My advisor, Doctor Fredrick, nodded wisely when I told her that I was going to meet with an old friend to talk about things. I think my advisor worried about me almost as much as I did.

“Hey, Chica,” Maria called out as she opened the door. She embraced me in a hug that took my breath away. That is one thing you can say about Maria, when she greets you, she does it with all her heart. If you are one of her music publishers, she might call you terrible names before you leave, but at least she’ll give you a warm welcome, initially. She always creates that warm “Fuzzy” feeling.

“Maria, I need to talk to you about men. Maybe, I need some advice,” I told her.

“Chica, it is a little late for any advice that I would have given you. Chica, you ask about men? I only have known one man very well. After I met Michael, I no longer looked for anyone else,” Maria stated.

This was a touchy subject. Maria had made it plain that she was not going to take sides between me and Max. This caused her to almost completely lose contact with him. I understand that Michael no longer hangs out with Max either. I feared that I had cost Max two very dear friends. Like Max’s sister, Isabel, Maria had married her high school sweetheart. The marriage had taken place after I was divorced. I stood up with Maria, but I understand that Michael asked Alex, Isabel’s husband, instead of Max to stand with him. I asked at the time, but Maria had said that talking it over with Max, they both thought that him being there would open up hurts for me. I was still mad so I glossed that off. Now, I wondered if Max gave up his friendship for Michael to protect me from some imagined pain. I knew from the time of the divorce, that Max did not have mean feelings about me. At the time, I thought, why should he? I am the one, he was cheating on. I was the one wronged. Max wasn’t a cruel man. He wouldn’t want to rub my nose in it.

“Maria, how do you know that you satisfy Michael?” I blurted out.

“Oh, my god, Chica. You might as well ask me the number of stars in the sky or how deep is eternity. I don’t know. Maybe, I don’t completely satisfy him. Michael and I feel that there is no one else, with who either of us would fit. Look, it isn’t all roses in our life, either daily or in bed. We just feel that we both have to try,” Maria tried to explain.

“Does Michael give you all you want?” I asked.

“No, of course not. Michael forgets anniversaries, sometimes, if I don’t leave hints around. He makes promises and then cancels them, though usually for good reasons. He watches hockey sometimes, when I just want him to comfort me. He is far from perfect, but we manage. I accept him for everything he is. I hope he accepts me the same way,” Maria stated.

I was holding my head in my hands. It was so hard to ask what I wanted to know. “I mean,” I blurted out again. I had to speak fast or I would lose my nerve. “Does he give you everything you want in bed?”

I knew this was getting personal. I was counting on my long friendship with Maria to sustain itself long enough for her to give me some of the answers I wanted.

The annoyance, that had briefly appeared in Maria’s face softened, as she realized that I was desperate to know something. “Chica, no one gets all they want in bed. Michael and I just keep trying. I make it a study of Michael. I watch carefully to see if I can get that special something out of him with what I do. Then, when he does do that special something for me, I try to show him how much I enjoyed it. Something that means expressing my feelings a little over the top.” Maria had been leaning towards me as if she was imparting secrets. In someway, I guess she was. “Liz,” I knew that she was going to be serious because otherwise she would use the endearment, Chica, “you have several degrees and you worked hard for them. The doctorate that you are working on now is very hard. Liz, the one degree that I have achieved is difficult also. It is a degree that I can easily lose. The MRS degree is what I mean. I told you that I wouldn’t get into the fight between you and Max. Michael and I have preserved that even to the extent of personal cost. Maybe, I was wrong. Maybe, I should have dove into the fray and told you both, that you both needed to get help to find some other solution. Right or wrong, I stayed clear and kept my advice to myself. If you are going to make a comeback, you are going to have to first find someone worth the effort and then make it a study just like you do in college. You are going to have to work at it or it will fail, just like your first marriage did.” Maria was now lecturing me. I didn’t mind. I needed to be lectured to.

That night, I was to be on chat with 451 again. I sat down as soon as I finished eating. My computer came up and I saw that he was waiting in the chat room. He transferred us quickly into a private room. I had been thinking of the chores Max and I shared.

Lonely452 says: Now that you live alone, what kind of meals do you fix?

This was a silly question, but I was wondering what single life did to a man. I remember all the little chores that Max and I shared. Cooking was one of them. If I could make Max beg for seconds, it made my day. Then he would be the chef and turn out some over spiced dish. I always tried to enjoy it. It was served with love. It didn’t need any other spices.

Lonely451 says: Usually, just TV dinners or sometimes, cold cuts. My wife and I used to cook for each other and now, it is just no fun.

That was another thing that had bothered me. Max would just eat canned meat if there was nothing to stir him up. I wondered if Max ever took his vitamins. He usually forgot unless I reminded him.

Lonely452 says: That isn’t very healthy

Lonely 451 says: Well, I was treated to a meal Sunday night.

Lonely452 says: What was it?

Lonely451 says: I did a favor for a neighbor lady and she fixed me supper Sunday.

I thought, yeah I had late supper Sunday night too. I am just not sure how I feel about it. I intended sometime to ask, 451 about the sex Bob and I finished up with. Was that something a man wanted? Bob gently persuaded me, and I complied. If Max had only hinted that was what he wanted and I would have understood, I would have practiced for him like a pro. Now to get the nerve up to bring sex acts back into our conversation.

Lonely452 says: What did you do for the lady that she fixed you supper?

Lonely451 says: I escorted her to an office party. She is one of the few single women working there. She was tired of fending off some of the men, so I went along pretending to be her boyfriend.

Lonely452 says: I guess that supper is good payment for defending a lady’s honor.

Lonely451 says: Well, it was supper and other things. I didn’t leave until just before we chatted Sunday night.

There was a pause as neither of us knew where to take this. I wasn’t yet ready to talk about the way my date ended with Bob Silverman. There definitely was something that 451 didn’t want to talk about. It was clear what he meant that he had stayed up with his neighbor lady. I was sure they were not playing cards.

Lonely451 says: If you were to remarry, what would you look for? How much would your new love resemble your ex?

I thought that was a loaded one. What did I dislike about Max? Except for the cheating, there was nothing I disliked about Max. Well maybe, if he had encouraged me to be more like he wanted me to be or at least told me what she had that I didn’t. Maybe, if he has asked me for more, rather than just expecting me to know what to do. Maybe, if…

Lonely452 says: I would ask him to be open with me. Tell me what he wants and talk over what I could do as a wife and understand what I could not do. The only thing wrong about my ex was his cheating.

Lonely451 says: How important is cheating? Is it the ending of a relationship or just the warning that the relationship is in danger?

Lonely452 says: I used to think that cheating was the final sin that a relationship could not withstand. I have been with a man recently who thinks nothing about cheating on his wife when she is out of town. He says he assumes that she cheats on him when she is traveling. He makes it clear that when they are together, he is loyal to her. I don’t understand, but they seem to have a relationship. I met an elderly lady who says cheating is worth a hit on the noggin, but not a reason to beak up.

Lonely451 says: When you say "with,” do you mean romantically?

I waited on answering that one. I had walked right into it.

Lonely452 says: Yes

Lonely451 says: Did it occur to you that he might be lying and you might just end up the other woman in a divorce?

Yes it had. There were several times I wondered if Bob’s wife was really that open and understanding. Bob had just given me so much freedom in what we did. When we were alone together, it seemed that there were no rules. I thought that, if I had felt any of that freedom with Max, I would have given him so much that he could never leave me.

Lonely452 says: yes.

Lonely 452 says: What about you and that neighbor lady? Does she offer you any future?

Lonely451 says: She reminded me so much of my ex and yet, she was so different. She had the same eyes as my ex, the same build and so many mannerisms that reminded me of my ex. But, she was so savage as she described how she would use sex to get ahead in her corporation. I could never see my ex doing that. I always saw my ex as gentle and caring. That is, until I heard of her going out with the bad boy from high school. I think my neighbor would only want me to come back if she needed something. Although, when we were making love, it was very much like I used to do with my wife.

Lonely452 says: Your wife was going out with the bad boy, right?

Lonely451 says: Yes he spent much of his youth in Juvenile hall. Later, he did a stretch in the state penitentiary. I talked to a lady friend who said women like bad boys because they are exciting.

To understand what he said, I needed to understand my own thoughts. When I had sex with Sean, we were both just in high school. He hadn’t yet done any time in the juvenile detention system. I was a freshman. It was more opportunity than design. Some called him a bad boy. I did not feel that the bad boy image would attract me. If I slept with him again, it would be to see what he had to offer. Could he teach me something that I could use if I had another chance at real love? There would be no emotional connection attached to whatever we did. Sean had been my first, but very unpleasant experience with sex. If I decided to sleep with Sean again, it would be kind of a closing. I wasn’t ready to go there with Lonely451.

Lonely452 says: Then, your experience with your neighbor was what was bothering you Sunday night.

I wondered if he saw how I had avoided the bad boy question. I thought of a question that would defuse the present chat.

Lonely452 says: Did you ever give your wife flowers?

Lonely451 says: Once or twice.

Lonely452 says: Why not more often?

Lonely451 says: I never could see the value of something that would be gone within a week.

Loonely452 says: But, women don’t see it that way. The flowers are gone, but the thought remains for a long time.

Lonely451 says: I never thought of it like that.

Lonely452 says: Did you ever spend a whole day naked with your wife?

Lonely451 says: No, did you with your ex?

Lonely452 says: Not with my husband, but recently with a friend. It was interesting.

Lonely451 says: Did you enjoy it? Do you wish you had spent time like that with your husband when you were married?

I was thinking of Max’s slender body, his maleness hanging not in arousal but just being prominent. I remembered Bob Silverman’s hands inside my robe. The freedom I felt when I placed my hand in his robe and felt his male organs not trying to make him have sex with me, but just sitting there, listening to Bob’s stories. I came out of my vision.

Lonely452 says: Yes I do.

Lonely451 says: Why didn’t you do it?

Lonely452 says: I guess, we didn’t think of it. We kept sex pretty much to the bedroom. His work, my work, schoolwork and marriage all kept us too busy.

Lonely452 says: With my friend, even though there is no future in our relationship, the time we were together we didn’t let anything interfere with our passions. For almost two days I didn’t wear any clothes. Inside the house at night we did have warm robes but they were just loose apparel.

Lonely451 says: You didn’t find it strange, that in that two days, he didn’t have any normal things to attend to about the house? Did he take time to pick up anything? Work in the kitchen to fix the meals? You were both like children, you could just play at life with no consequences?

Wow, He hit on one of the things worrying me. I had wondered how Bob had a house running so smoothly that, he was never called on to reset a circuit breaker or to take some laundry to the machine. Even the food was miraculous in its appearance. Everything about his home was perfect. Something about that experience, now seemed unreal. His wife traveled, Bob worked as hard as I did at the collage. Who took care of that house? It wasn’t a place that you could pick up during a Saturday morning.

My time with Bob Silverman, was unreal. It was like a romance novel. All filled with the good things. The only bad thing, hanging over my head, was that what ever this was, it would come to an end. I would leave and return to my reality and he would return to his wife.

Lonely452 says: Maybe I needed an escape to some place that is unreal, to get my mind on track?

Lonely451 says: Are you on track now?

Another long pause.

Lonely452 says: No.

Lonely451 says: Suppose that your friend wasn’t married. Is he what you would want?

Lonely452 says: No, he isn’t trustworthy.

Lonely451 says: Then why go with him?

Lonely452 says: I want to feel wanted. He says that he can’t get me out of his mind. I want to learn things. He gives me new experiences that might help me if I do find that special someone. For a time he makes me feel appreciated.

Max

She continued writing quickly before I could comment on her last post.

Lonely452 says: This is hard to ask but we said we wanted to learn from each other. Did your ex give you all your wanted in bed?

Lonely451 says: Yes, but maybe, I didn’t give her all she wanted, both in bed and in life.

Lonely452 says: Let’s stay with the first question. We can chat about life later. There was never anything else that you wanted in sex, that she didn’t do? There was never anything else that you secretly desired? Did you ever want something that she wouldn’t do?

That gave me a great deal of thinking. The only examples I had were my college years, which were not at all serious and the dates I had been on since my divorce. Would I have wanted Wanda every night? I would have died with a heart attack. Now the professional co-ed was nice. Of course she was strictly business. A wife like that would be difficult. Everything she did, you would know that a price had been attached. What about Sheila? When she said we should make love just like a pair of lovers would do, that was nice. That was Shelia the child. Sheila had ambition. She would do anything to achieve that. Even if she wouldn’t cheat, sexually, Sheila would always be looking for a way to get ahead. Sheila would always want to be on top, figuratively speaking.

Tess had said, “We all pay for it in the end.” What had I paid for Liz? I gave her my heart. She was closer to getting into Grad school, than I had been, so I gave her the chance to get her degree. We had talked long and hard about that. I guess I paid for it when I lost sight of the spinning ball and it landed in the dark. When Liz divorced me I lost everything I valued. Was that what Tess had meant? I had given all that I knew how to give and lost my whole investment. After the longest pause I had made in any of our chats I typed.

Lonely451 says: There are maybe things that we could have done if we had talked about it. Right now I can only see that everything we had, I thought was wonderful. If my ex had asked me if I wanted more I would have told her that just to hold her I my arms was enough. If she had offered more, I would have tried to show my appreciation.

I wonder if I ever said anything like that to her.

Lonely451 says: If I had done this maybe she wouldn’t have divorced me or gone to that bad boy either.

Lonely452 says: There isn’t something else in bed that you secretly wished your ex had done? Something, she could have done that would have further endeared her to you?

I shook my head. Of course 452 couldn’t see that. What more could Liz have done for me? She could have given me a child, but then if she went to Sean, what would have happened to the child? We had agreed not to have children until she was out of school. Was there something about this agreement that Liz hadn’t totally agreed with? Had I in some way forced her to wait for something she wanted desperately? That made no sense. What did Sean have to do with wanting a child? Surely she didn’t want to have a child with Sean. Sean as a parent would have been a disaster.

Lonely451 says: I would have preferred that she hadn’t felt the need to go to that bad boy. After she did go to him I would have preferred that she had talked with me and we could have straightened our problems out.

Lonely452 says: That still doesn’t answer my question. What if your Ex had been more professional and aggressive in sex, If she had initiated different things would that have endeared her more to you?

Lonely451 says: Since my divorce I have dated several women including a paid professional. One woman had endurance that would have given me a heart attack if we continued for much longer. The professional woman would have done anything I asked of her, for a price, the date Sunday night was the most enduring. She also was clear, that she was ambitious. She gave me, Sunday, what she thought I wanted. Monday morning her claws came out and her teeth were sharpened. She had ambition and nothing would stand in her way.

Liz

I picked up on one thing he said. I guess everywoman wonders what a woman has, that a man will pay great sums of money, for just a short period of time. If a wife was paid at that rate she would be rich in no time. I wasn’t going to let this chance pass me by.

Lonely452 says: You said paid professional woman. Did you mean prostitute?

Lonely451 says: Yes

Lonely452 says: What was she like? I mean, did she have some special charm? I am just curious why a man would go to a woman like that.

Lonely451 says: She was very refined. She was a girl working her way through college. The guys where I worked talked me into calling her. She asked me what I wanted and I stuttered so badly that she just told me to wash up. When I came out of the bathroom she put on a show. It was sex without emotion though. There was no kissing or petting or foreplay. She was very matter of fact. $500 up front and she gave me two hours of her best. Or I guess it was her best.

Lonely452 says: Do you realize how much it would cost if you had paid your wife that rate?

Lonely451 says: yes, but maybe, I paid my wife more than that. I gave her my heart. I was told by a wise, woman, that everyone pays for it somehow.

Lonely452 says: Why do men pay that much cash, for just sex?

Lonely451 says: Some men want that. They want the act of sex with out guilt or responsibility. When the lady left all I felt was broke. Do you realize how much of my salary that $500 amounted to.

Lonely452 says: It would have bought a lot of flowers.

It was getting late so I told him good night.

Lonely452 says: It is getting late and we both have to work tomorrow. Can we get together again next Wednesday?

Lonely451 says: yes and good night.

Lonely 452 says: nite
----------------------
Stories by Ken

mary mary
begonia9508
Natalie36
keepsmiling7
Earth2Mama

Chapter 10

Max

452 had a point. If I had still been married, $500 would have bought a lot of flowers. If that is what it would have taken to make Liz still think I loved her more than anything, I would have been willing to spend it.

Tomorrow was Friday. In the singles crowd, you start prowling for a date for sometime in the coming weekend. My sister had an acquaintance. I want to stress the word acquaintance and not a close friend. Isabel called me at noon. “Look Max, back out of this one if you want. This girl, I used to casually know from high school, has asked me to see if I could arrange a date, with you. Her name is Pam Troy. We were never that close, but I told her I would see.”

Pam Troy, I could barely remember that name. I couldn’t place a face with the name at all. “What’s she like, Izzy?” I asked.

“She is attractive. I don’t think you would want to start a great affair with her, but she might be good for a bit of fun over the weekend. It would be better than just sitting around home.” Isabel explained Pam the best she could.

I thought Isabel was probably right. One date couldn’t hurt. Isabel set it up for Saturday night. She gave me Pam’s address and we decided about 7:30 Saturday evening would be a good time for me to pick her up.

I figured a late dinner and by the time we were through eating, the kids would be out of the movies. Maybe, I was jealous of the teens and their honeys. They were so carefree. A man my age had to work to get laid. Well maybe, if I had paid more attention and been more mature, I would have been like them when I was that age. I cut out a list of shows from the paper and put it in my pocket. We could talk about what movie to see as we ate dinner.

Pam was a bleached blonde. She was a little taller than Liz had been. Her breasts were prominent and she knew how to show them well. Her skirt was several inches above her knees and as she sat in the car, I noticed she gave a little twist, which made her skirts rise up even higher. She tried to get the conversation turned to my ex and I was surprised. Most women do not want to hear about your past loves. I explained that I didn’t like to talk about my ex because I still had a lot of feeling for her. I hoped that set up some sort of wall that Pam would see that I was not ready for a new romance, at least not a strong one.

At the restaurant, Pam’s foot collided with mine, way to many times to be accidental. She picked an ”R” rated romance and at the theater, she coiled up under my arm. There was a lot of nudity in the movie. It wasn’t porn or anything but the love scenes left little to the imagination. I couldn’t help it, seeing that starlet with her augmented boobs did make my pants tight in the crotch. By the time the movie was over, I noticed that Pam was breathing hard. I guess, she was also affected by the bare chested hunk who kept putting it to the little starlet.

When I walked her to her door, she turned to me and in a husky voice said, “Max, don’t you want to come in for a minute?”

The movie, Pam’s sultry body and the lack of attention I felt I had had toward any healthy sex, all made me say, “Yes, Pam, I think I would enjoy that.”

Inside her apartment, Pam excused herself as she went to the bathroom. The bathroom, like most small apartments, was off her bedroom. When she returned to where I was sitting, Pam was clothed in a Japanese robe. I should have noticed the savage dragons and tigers, embroided on the silk. I should have looked at their claws and understood that Pam had claws also. Claws like Sheila, but Sheila kept hers sheathed. To me, Sheila was just a kitten.

I indicated that I wanted to go to the bathroom, also. She smiled and when I came out, Pam was lying on her bed, the robe opened and her body on display. The dark curls of her pubic hair gave truth to the fact that she, indeed, was a bleached blonde. Her breast were swollen to the point that they jutted out from her body. Nothing was said. I just took off my clothes and climbed into bed with her. Pam took the initiative and started kissing my body. I had my hands on her breasts and was working the already hard nipples. I was determined not to lose the command of the evening so when I could stand the pressure no more, I rolled Pam off me and I mounted her in the missionary position. We had sex, I wasn’t sure it was love, because I did not have any of the feelings I had ever had with Liz. I didn’t even have the feelings I’d had with Sheila. The sex was physically good, but there was no love for Pam from me. That, made me feel a little selfish. I guess, I still felt that there should be some love with sex, or at least a little affection.

After I exploded in her and we had several minutes of pumping action, I rolled over and tried to catch my breath. Pam took second to no one, even Wanda, in bringing me back to life. She played with me until she felt that I was ready for round two.

Pam was on top and in control. She was a yowler. I had never had that noisy kind of sex before. With Liz, there were only sighs and slight moans if I touched some particularly sensitive spot. Wanda was too busy making me reach some sort of record in the number of times I could cum. The most I heard from her were a few grunts. I am sure the call girl would only be vocal for an extra forty dollars. Sheila was very quiet in the way she made love. Now Pam, as she was bringing me forth, let lose a howl. I could only wonder what her neighbors were thinking?

This time, it was Pam who rolled off when she was exhausted. We lay there while we both fought to catch our breaths. Pam started to talk. “You know, Max, I have had a crush on you since high school. When I saw you with Tess, I figured she would move on soon. She always did. Tess never stayed with anyone very long. I could only hope that your experience with her would make you a perfect boyfriend in high school,” She murmured softly.

I didn’t say anything. Lying naked in bed with a likewise naked woman in your arms is not the time to confess any of your insecurities. There was more to what she said and later, I wished I had listened closer.

“You just turned to the Parker girl before I could set my play for you. Now that she has dumped you, it is my turn,” Pam stated.

It wasn’t until much later that I had questions about both our date and Pam, herself. At the moment the only thought I had was, that I don’t want to get trapped into something I am this unsure of. I said, “Pam, you are great in bed. I am just not yet looking to start up a relationship. I would want to take things slowly. We might go out again soon, but let’s not get too involved, too fast.”

Pam smiled. That should have warned me, but at the time, I thought she saw the wisdom in what I was saying.

I swung my legs out of bed and pulled on my pants. As I leaned over and kissed her, that same smile was lingering. I let myself out of her apartment. It was early in the morning. I would sleep in late to rest up for Monday.

Right, I would sleep in late. Isabel called me at 8:00 the next morning. “Well, what happened?” she demanded.

I was still trying to formulate complete sentences. Just because she hadn’t stayed up until wee hours of the morning wasn’t any excuse to not have sympathy for me. “Izzy, we had a good evening.” There wasn’t any way that I was going to hide anything from Isabel. “Our experience in bed was interesting. I don’t know. Besides the fact that she wasn’t Liz, there was something disturbing about her. I am not sure what it was or how to explain it,” I related to Isabel.

“Max, as much as I love Liz, I think she has moved on. You are not going to be able to go back to her. I think that she has found what she wants and, dearest brother, it wasn’t you,” Isabel told me.

Isabel wouldn’t tell me more. She suggested that I find out for myself. We hung up and I fell back in bed. I woke up around noon. I had been having strange and disturbing dreams. Of course, when I woke up, they disappeared, leaving only the disquieting effects on my brain.
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Stories by Ken

Earth2Mama Pam and Bob together, not a bad idea but they would both want to be on top. As for Isabel, well most time free advice is worth what you pay for it. Other times it is definitely a liability.

mary mary
keepsmiling7
Natalie36 who said what is working itself out
Begonia9508

Chapter 11

Liz

I was working in my office. Semi finals were coming up soon. I was going over the test to make sure my lectures had covered everything. I just dreaded going home for the weekend to my apartment. I remembered when I was married. I would watch the clock slowly tic its way to quitting time. Now, it was the other way around. The clock seemed to be rushing to the end of the day like it was wanting to dump me out of my office and into the dull, two days ahead of me.

At lunch, I had gone into the Student Union and saw Sean sitting alone. I picked up my tray and walked over to his table. “Are you waiting for anyone, Sean?” I asked.

Sean almost knocked the table over trying to quickly stand. “Only for you, Beautiful,” he said. Today, Sean was trying to be charming.

I sat down and as I started eating, I said, “Sean, if you want to, you can pick me up around 7:00 tomorrow night.”

Sean was so excited that he dropped his fork. I guess, the three-second rule was applied as he took a napkin and wiped it off. “Liz, I will be happy to pick you up. What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Why don’t you surprise me,” I said. I know I was taking a chance. Left, to what he wanted to do, we would just go back to his apartment and go to bed for the rest of the weekend. This way, at least he had to think of something resembling a date.

I spent Saturday morning getting my chores done for the week –washing my clothes, sweeping out my apartment, and looking at my notes for lectures next week. When I started to get ready I, at first, looked at the new dress that I had worn to the 15-minute dating. Thinking of this reminded me that I had some email to look over. Several of the men had returned their questionnaires. I don’t know why I was dreading this. I had so much lethargy every time I thought of opening one of the emails. None of the men had been who I was looking for. None of them were Max. I wondered how far he had moved on.

Well back to my dress. I was advertising myself. That bothered me, but the people running the dating service had said unless a man noticed me he wouldn’t be to inclined to ask me out. Sean didn’t need any more encouragement than he already had. I knew that we would probably end up in his bed. I just hope he had matured somewhat. I put back my new party dress and took out an older one. It was one I wore the few times Max and I had been able to go out since we had married. Was that what was wrong with our marriage? I was working and so was he. I was trying to go to school. Maybe, I just didn’t take enough time to encourage him. Maybe, I should have suggested that we go out on a date more often, even if we were married.

Sean took me to a restaurant. It was a good place, but nothing fancy. We went to a movie. It was a romantic comedy. The whole time, I felt that Sean was impatient for the ending of our date. The whole purpose, as far as he was concerned, was to get me into bed. I had no intention of stopping him. I just hope all this effort led to something that was worth it.

As we were walking out of the theater, Sean said, “You will stop by my place for a while, won’t you?”

I almost wondered what he would say if I said, “No, just take me home.” Sean would have been angry. I was sure that Sean thought a lot like Stanley Reims. My friend from the chat room had spent $500 for sex for two hours. The expense worried him, but he was a good sport when I said that if he had spent that money on flowers, he might have saved his marriage. Sean was concerned about the money he had spent on dinner and a show. He wanted given to him, the same as the prostitute had received $500 for. This thinking scared me. If I slept with Sean, and I had been a professional woman, look how much I would have made. My mind drifted further. What had I been doing since I got divorced? Just giving it away. Maybe, 451’s hooker had it right. All the time I kept thinking that I was preparing myself for that special someone. I wondered what preparation I was going to get from Sean. I wasn’t backing out, but there was a certain dread.

When we arrived at his place, he sat me on the couch and fixed us some drinks. He had made the drink of 7Up, cranberry juice and vodka. I recognized this as a seduction drink from college. I had already made up my mind to sleep with him -- he didn’t have to do all this seduction stuff. Then I thought -- Sean wanted to feel that he had talked me into sex. He wanted to feel dominate. I had a shiver. I hope he didn’t go as far to fix me some drugged concoction.

Sean had made my drink pretty strong. Usually, the cranberry juice kills the taste of the alcohol. I sipped at it and Sean began what I assumed he considered foreplay. He found the fastening at the back of my dress. He worked the zipper down and as he kissed me, he worked the dress down my upper body and then, helped me get my arms out of it. I complied, all the while watching to see how he orchestrated his plans. He was attacking my breasts. He was too rough to be very comfortable or erotic. None of the lovers I had taken since I had been divorced had this lack of tenderness. Inwardly, I frowned. I was determined to go through with it. This reasoning confused me. Why didn’t I just do like I had done before? I could have just walked out and called a cab? Then I wouldn’t have had an answer. Could I have had the affair with Sean, that the rumor Max heard, said I did? I shook my head. This way of thinking was wrong in so many ways. Finally, with me holding my dress, Sean led us into his bedroom.

He helped me step out of my dress and I helped him with his zipper and belt. Finally we were both standing in our underwear. He looked at me with both his hands in my panties. I could feel these hands wandering over me. He pushed my panties down and quickly undid my bra. Dropping his own shorts, we were quickly in bed. His intrusion into me was abrupt. I was not ready for it. Most of my lovers entered me slowly so I wouldn’t feel any pain. Sean’s action was also rough. I was going to have several bruises tomorrow. When he was finishe, we lay facing each other. Sean was kissing me. Then he grabbed my head and pushed me down. This was no different from what Bob Silverman had done, but Bob’s tenderness, made me want to do anything he asked, that I could. Sean’s approach was demanding. I twisted away from him and sat up. “Aw, come on Liz, a little blow job. It isn’t as if you never did this before, is it?”

I was pulling on my underwear. “Sean, what I ever did with any one before is none of your business. Max thought I had cheated on him with you. I just wanted to see if that would have been possible. This is the second time you and I have had sex. Sean, you are supposed to have learned something with maturity. I think we won’t see each other socially again.” By this time, I had my dress pulled up and was going to the phone, to call a cab. I would finish the other fastenings while waiting out in front of Sean’s apartment.

I had my clothes relatively straightened by the time the cab arrived. When home, I sat for a long time thinking. I had put up with Sean’s rough sex which had hurt almost as much now, as it had so long ago at Maria’s house. “It isn’t as if you never did this before, is it?” that ran through my head over and over. Did Sean consider me just a slut? If I judged myself against the morals I was raised with, I probably was. I didn’t feel like a slut when Max and I were wrestling our half naked bodies the night of the prom. I only felt that we loved each other. I had never felt like a slut the few times I ended up in bed during college. There was always a connection when we fell into bed together -- a lot of feelings those times. As much feeling as you can find in college. Besides, I always told myself I was learning so I could give my love someday to someone special. With Max, I had always felt so special. I always felt special to him, until he indicated that I wasn’t enough. Then, I felt that someway, I just wasn’t experienced enough to know how to keep a man. I didn’t feel like a slut, when I was with Bob Silverman. Even though it hurt, when he said he was married, I still felt wanted when I was with him. I felt that, if I could do something to please him, I would. I guess the only times I felt like a slut were the two times I was with Sean.

I wanted Wednesday to hurry up and come. I needed our chat. I wasn’t sure how much I was going to tell my chat buddy. I would have better spent this time thinking, “Why did Max think I had been going to Sean? Later, I should have thought, why did I think that Max was cheating on me? I had the answer to that last question, that idea was started by Pam Troy. Somehow after she told me Max was working with Tess, the story just took on a life of its own. I now began to wonder, “If Max was screwing the gerbil when we were married, why would he do it so openly, that everyone would know?” Then I thought, “If I had secretly gone to Sean, how would the story ever gotten to Max? Even Maria seemed to partially believe it,”

Chapter 12

Max

Isabel was sympathetic about Pam Troy. “Max, we never were friends or anything. I surely wouldn’t want you to marry her. I was hoping that she would give you a nice diversion for the weekend,” Isabel concluded.

“She did, Izzy. It is just that there is something sinister about her. I can’t put my finger on it. When I left her apartment, I felt that I had escaped from something,” I explained.

I was back at work. I didn’t say much to any of the guys. They had no idea who I had gone out with that weekend. I didn’t consider it any of their business. At noon when I entered the cafeteria, the first person I saw was Tess sitting as usual, in a corner by herself. I approached her table and asked if I could sit down. She smiled as she said, “How was your date with Pam?”

I just sat there looking at her. “How did you know? I haven’t told anyone at the lab about dating Pam.”

Tess continued her smile. “Max, the locker room talk among women is twice what it ever is with men. According to her, she gave you the ‘trip around the world’ and now, the only thing left is the wedding.”

I sat there with my head in my hands. “Tess, we went on a date. Yes, we had sex later, but there was nothing unusual about it. I didn’t find her anything remarkable in bed, either. I told her that I wasn’t ready for any lasting relationship. Tell you the truth, she was a little annoying. She kept try to get me to talk about Liz. I am not ready to talk about her with anyone.” That wasn’t quite true. I had been talking about my ex with my chat buddy, Lonely452.

“Max, be careful. Someday, you might learn something very scary about Pam Troy,” Tess warned. “Do you know that, at one time, she was screwing that Sean DeLuca?”

This was a total surprise to me. That Pam knew the supposed lover, bad boy, in Liz’s life. Something had bothered me about her. Now, there was a veiled threat about her from Tess.

“She talked Isabel into arranging a date between us. It beat sitting at home, but I don’t even know if I would take her out again,” I explained.

“Max, as long as Pam thinks she has you under control, she is dangerous. There is a party of lab workers this Friday night. Why don’t you take me? That will be a signal to Pam that you are not ready to go steady,” Tess wisely said.

Wednesday night, I looked forward to my chat with 452. But, it was on Tuesday night, that I did something that I am not proud of. Not that I wouldn’t do it exactly the same way again, given the chance. Michael had called me and asked if I would go have a beer with him. I said, “Of course.” I hadn’t seen Michael much since he married Maria. Neither he nor Maria wanted to take sides between Liz and me. Maria was a close friend of Liz’s so that meant that I stayed away from both Maria and Michael Guerin.

We sat there trying to make small talk, but it was difficult. Finally, Michael came out and said it, “Max, I hear you still have a thing for your Liz. Pal, you have to move along. She is gone. Maria and I saw Sean and Liz together Saturday night at the restaurant. Sean was practically raping her with his eyes. Trouble is, Liz wasn’t fighting it. She seemed to be with him by choice. I haven’t said a thing to Maria about seeing you tonight. I imagine there will be a little hell to pay when I get home. I just want to tell you, Move on, buddy. She is gone and you need to find someone else.”

I sat there in a daze. I had heard about Liz going to Sean so many times before, but never from a source like Michael I couldn’t doubt him. Michael and I had been friends for years. If he and Maria saw her out with Sean that was proof that I had never known Liz. Michael signaled for another pitcher of beer and I just sat nursing my second glass. About that time, who should appear, but Sean himself. He clearly had been drinking. I felt a buzz, but Sean was way ahead of me. Michael frowned and said as Sean sat down. “That place is taken, Sean.”

“Well, when they come back, I will leave,” Sean slurred. Then, he turned to me. “Hey Max, that ex of yours is sure a firecracker in bed. Why I had her last Saturday and I poked every hole that lady had.”

Michael was preparing himself for the explosion he was sure was coming. “She gave me head for thirty minutes,” Sean said tossing his disheveled hair.

That is when I hit him. It was a straight jab thrown from the table. Michael, sitting beside Sean, grabbed the back of his head and bounced his forehead on the table. Sean went to sleep. The bar was noisy and Michael had chosen a secluded corner for us to talk. He looked up and no one was looking our way.

Michael signaled again for a waitress. “ My wife’s cousin has had too much to drink. He just fell and hit his head on the table. I don’t think he is badly hurt, but he is too drunk to drive.” Michael scribbled Sean’s address on a cardboard coaster. Then, he took Sean’s wallet and extracted two twenties. He took another twenty from his own wallet and tucked it in the waitress’s pocket. The forty dollars should pay the cab to take him home and the twenty is for you for putting up with him.”

The waitress signaled two bouncers. She handed them the forty dollars and they carried Sean out. They would probably roll him for what else he had, when they got him outside.

Michael smiled at the waitress. “Please don’t say anything about me. It is the wife’s cousin and if she finds that I was drinking with him, there will be hell to pay. He is supposed to be with Alcoholic Anonymous.” When she left, Michael pulled me by the jacket, “Come on Max, we want to get out of here before someone puts two and two together.”

We were in Michael’s car so he drove me home. He left me there to go face Maria. I had no idea how much grief she would give him.

I barely got out of my outer clothes. I don’t like fighting in public, but the crunch of his teeth against my fist was the best feeling I’ve had since I was divorced. I was so sound asleep that it was the last ring of the alarm that woke me up. I had a headache and my hand was swollen. I, also, was more depressed than I had been ever before.

After breaking two crucibles at my lab station, I went to the boss. “I hurt my hand last night. I can’t do any work. I am going to hurt someone, dropping stuff. I need to go home and soak it.” The boss nodded. He didn’t look closely at my hand. If he had, the fact that I had been fighting would have been obvious.

By nighttime, the swelling had gone down considerably. Salt water and Epson salts takes everything out of a body. My head still hurt. I opened the computer and saw the chat room with 452 patiently waiting. I double clicked her name and quickly set us up a private chat room.

Lonely451 says: Hi, how are you?

Lonely452 says: OK, I guess.

Lonely451 says: We have to go slow, I was drinking with a buddy and I hurt my hand.

Lonely452 says: How did you hurt your hand?

Lonely451 says: I smashed a cockroach.

Lonely452 says: Well, otherwise, how was your weekend?

Lonely451 says: Again Ok. I had a date arranged by my sister with a girl I knew in high school.

Lonely452 says: A date with a girl from high school. That sounds good.

Lonely451 says: Maybe, there is something I am trying to remember about her. With the headache I tied on from drinking last night, I just can’t think. How was your weekend?

Lonely452 says: Not so good! Listening to you talk about your ex, I decided to see what bad boys had to offer.

Lonely451 says: Please don’t do research on my account.

Lonely452 says: Lol, I just had to find out if there was anything there about bad boys.

Lonely451 says: What did you find out?

Lonely452 says: That bad boys are just that. They are bad.

Lonely451 says: I wish my ex was that smart. My drinking buddy saw her with the guy who caused our divorce last weekend. He was trying to tell me to forget her and move on.

Lonely452 said: Instead of moving on, you just got drunk instead?

Lonely451 says: I guess so.

Lonely452 says: Did you sleep with your friend from school?

Lonely451 says: Yes, but I am not sure she is a friend.

Lonely452 says: Lol, so you slept with someone you knew back in high school who is not a friend. Did I get that right?

Lonely451 says: Lol, I guess so.

Lonely452 says: What was she like?

Lonely451 says: As I said, my sister arranged the date. The woman is a little aggressive.

Lonely452 says: Don’t be too critical. Women have to be aggressive to get what they want in the world. Maybe, if I had been more aggressive I wouldn’t have lost my marriage.

Lonely451 says: No, it is something another friend said. She said I might learn something very dangerous about the first woman someday.

Lonely452 says: Was she just being catty?

Lonely 451 says: I don’t think so.

Lonely 452 says: Are you going out with the lady from high school again?

Lonely451 says: Maybe, but not right away. This weekend I am going out with an old girl friend, who really was a girlfriend in high school. It is a business party, but it is also, a date.

There was a pause as neither of us knew what to say next. So I typed.

Lonely451 says: Tell me about the date with the bad boy.

Lonely452 says: If your ex is still going with the bad boy, then I think your friend is right. You need to move on. I went with this guy once in high school and I found him rough and crude. He has been around constantly, since I was divorced. I had hoped that he had matured a little. No such luck. He is still immature, crude and rough. I don’t think I will tolerate him around anymore.

Lonely451 says: I guess you are telling me something about my ex that I never understood. Maybe, I should move on. Look, my hand is killing me. I need to go soak it. My head is trying to explode and I have to go to work tomorrow. Do you mind if we ring off until next Wednesday?

Lonely452 says: Of course not. Take care of yourself. I surely would miss you if something happened and you couldn’t continue the chats.

Lonely451 says: Thanks, good night

Lonely452 says: nite.
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Stories by Ken