February Sucks, But You'll Miss It - Ch. 04

This is the final chapter of the "February Sucks, But You'll Miss It" series, which was a takeoff from George Anderson's "February Sucks". To understand it, please read the original and previous chapters in the series. George Anderson's story can be found here:

Thanks to all who read and commented on the earlier parts, and especially to those who gave helpful and encouraging remarks. Sorry this took so long to finish. If I write anything else for Literotica, it will not be a February Sucks knockoff, I promise. :-)

***

APRIL

Kandy was dressed in another schoolmarm outfit, black pantsuit and plain shoes, hair in a ponytail. She was taking notes at the kitchen table of my Camelott Inn fuckpad, peering at me through her spectacles. It was my second free "therapy" session with her, and I doubted that talking therapy really did any good. However, she talked me into it by promising a 20% discount on our next pussy appointment. There is the old saying "Never pass up a free piece of ass." I told myself the same principle applied to a discounted piece of ass.

"Please tell me a little more about your approach to Linda's infidelity. Last time you told me you were angry at first but then you somehow flipped a switch to make it a good thing. Like you're having it both ways, angry and happy over the same thing."

"Why is that so interesting to you?"

"I'm writing about it as part of my thesis. That's why we are doing this."

"You're writing about me?"

"Don't worry. I won't use your name, or anything that would identify you."

"What about the asshole?"

"Or him either. It will be a generalized scenario involving a married couple and a celebrity. And it strikes me that you seem to hold some special resentment for Marc LaVallierre. You use a special tone of voice when you refer to him as 'the asshole.' Is there a reason for that, other than the obvious?"

"Well, he did fuck my wife."

"Okay, sure, but what if some ordinary, average Joe had fucked your wife. Would you feel the same about him?"

I thought about this, and realized there was a difference. LaVallierre was special, and not just because he was famous.

"No, I would be pissed and probably call him an asshole, but it wouldn't feel the same. I saw it as soon as I laid eyes on him, like he had a red A stamped on his forehead."

Kandy looked a little bit puzzled, so I tried to explain. She didn't get it because she was never a boy. Some boys are born assholes and other boys know it, even as early as kindergarten. Some assholes grow out of it, but the ones who don't are the worst. That was LaVallierre. Kandy pressed on.

"So you resented it that Linda went with him."

"Of course."

"And when it was in the news that all those women slapped him, did that make you feel better?"

"Yeah, a little. It's great that he was beat up by a bunch of girls, but I don't think he has suffered enough. I would like to kick the shit out of him, but of course that will never happen."

"Getting back to your way of rolling with events, are you still happy that Linda opened your marriage up, even with what happened?"

"Absolutely. We wouldn't be here if she didn't."

"And how do you see this going forward. What do you want from life?"

"If Linda wants us to stay married, she will have to figure out how to do it. Here's my first priority in the meantime. Finish up the bucket list. College was fun, but there were are a few items that never came my way. I want every fuck I ever wanted to fuck, right fucking now, so when I take my last breath I didn't miss out on anything. Then I can die happy."

"Is there anything special you have always wanted to do?"

"Well, a couple of things-anal, for instance. I had it a couple of times before, but it was never that good. I always felt there must be a better ass fuck out there. Linda would never try it. Maybe she doesn't have the ass for it."

"Do I have the ass for it?"

"You have the perfect ass for it. Would my 20% discount apply to your ass?"

"Of course it would. And normally there is a surcharge for anal, because it takes some preparation and planning. For you, Jim, I will waive the anal surcharge."

I was liking this therapy arrangement more all the time. And truth be told, my bucket list wasn't all that long.

***

Lunch with Ronnie had gotten to be a semi-regular occurrence for Linda. They usually just went to the company cafeteria now, but today Ronnie said he wanted to get away from the office, so they went back to the Soup & Salad Joynt. Something was on his mind again. There were layoffs on the horizon so Linda supposed he wanted to vent about that. He got right to the point.

"The thing is, Linda, I have met someone special and we are thinking about being exclusive. It's a new experience for me and I'm not sure how to act or what I really want. Maybe you can advise me, since you and Jim seem to have such a great thing together."

Linda was taken aback. It was the last thing she had expected. She took a minute to reflect. It would not help Ronnie to admit that her marriage was on rocky ground, and she was hardly in a position to give out relationship advice. It had been so long since she was single that she could barely remember what it was like. And of course she had never been a gay man, but Ronnie needed to hear words of support. Wanting to do no harm, she decided that something non-specific was her safest approach.

"Well, Ronnie, all I can say is, try thinking with your heart, and not just your body. But whatever your heart decides, be sure your body agrees before you make a commitment."

Ronnie blinked and laughed a little. "Wow, Linda, you are a deep one. I think I even understood that!"

"I am no role model for anyone," Linda said. "I wouldn't want to see you get hurt. But sometimes you just have to chance it."

She felt that her words were lame, but Ronnie seemed to appreciate them.

"His name is Rolf," Ronnie said. "I would like you to meet him."

***

It was just a couple of days after the second talking therapy session that I had Kandy bent over the bed again. The lights were low in my suite and there was a scented candle burning on the kitchen table. Kandy claimed the candle wax was infused with yohimbine and lavender, which would have an aphrodisiac effect. She may have been right, since my cock was about as stiff as it had ever been, and I could practically picture the millions of swimmers wanting to work they way out of my balls and into the world. Maybe there was something psychedelic in the candle too.

Normally I like my sex partners to be buck naked, but for this occasion Kandy was wearing black lace stockings and a garter belt, no panties. This was her idea for an added turn on, and I had to admit that the sight of her spread open sex bordered in black was hot as hell. She was the expert.

"Uh, one question," I said. "What happened to the tattoo? Your name was right here." I whacked her ass cheek.

Kandy laughed. "Oh, that. It was a temporary tattoo, client request. You didn't notice it was gone last time?"

"Guess my mind was on other things."

She wiggled her ass. "I don't know about your mind, but I hope your head gets into the right place this time."

Her back door entrance was a nice shade of pink, just a little darker than the firm, fleshy globes that made the frame. The opening glistened with the lube I had slathered on. It looked good enough to eat, but I resisted the temptation and rolled a fresh condom onto my dick. Kandy's pussy was dripping and she was lazily stroking her clit and sighing with pleasure.

"You actually enjoy this, don't you?" I asked.

"Sure do," Kandy said. "It makes the job a lot easier if you like what you're doing."

Lining up with her spread cheeks, I placed my sheathed cockhead against her pucker. She made it contract a little, and it felt great already, just touching the opening.

"Now ease it in slow, Jim," she said. Following orders, I inched my shaft forward a half inch, then an inch.

"That's good, that's good," Kandy groaned, and she started to ripple her muscles in a compelling way, so that it felt as if her ass was sucking me into her depths. I hardly had to move at all. Soon I was all the way in, with my balls resting against her pussy. It was tight but comfortable, and I could have stayed in that position for a long time, at one with the universe, but Kandy had other ideas.

"Okay, Jim, now we can start the good part. Fuck me!"

I started moving my hips out and in, at first very slowly. The sight of Kandy's ass action was fascinating, the way her glutes undulated in time to my thrusts. And it was oh so very good and tight. Soon we were fucking away with abandon. We went faster and faster, with Kandy muttering words of encouragement. "Do it, Jimmy, fuck me!" After several groaning, ecstatic minutes, I was getting close when I felt something give. Now it felt even better, but...

"Oh shit, I think the rubber broke!"

"Never mind that, just fill me up, you bastard."

After a couple more minutes, my big load exploded into her depths, spurt after spurt, as she chanted, "Come, come for me, do it, come for me..."

I collapsed on top of her back, exhausted, grasping her tits for support. After a while my dick shrank and fell out of her ass. I stood up and looked. Sure enough, the condom was shredded. I pulled it off and showed it to Kandy. "Sorry about that," I said.

She smirked. "Ah, no worries. I think you're clean and I'm not going to get pregnant from that."

We both cleaned up and got dressed. Kandy was grinning at me. Her vibes were always good, raunch or no raunch. She was equally happy to do talking therapy or fucking therapy.

"You have done that before, haven't you?" It was a joke; I knew the answer.

"Anal? Well, duh. It's a good part of my business. Was it okay for you?"

"Okay? That was one for the ages. I'll remember that until my dying day."

"Well, good. I like a satisfied customer. Is there something else we can take off your bucket list?"

"At least one more thing," I said. Might as well get it while you can, I thought.

***

MAY

It got to be a pattern. Jim would spend at least two nights during the week at his "love nest". They didn't talk about what he was doing there, but Linda assumed he was having sex with his prostitute. She didn't like it but grew numb to it, knowing she had brought it on herself.

Linda would have liked to get back to physical intimacy with Jim, but there was none. After the first rebuffs she couldn't bring herself to reach out, and Jim appeared oblivious, not hostile, friendly but just not intimate as they had been before. She didn't know how to bridge the gap between them.

After a few weeks, Linda grew increasingly horny and subject to erotic fantasies, but the idea of having sex with any man other than Jim had become abhorrent. She was disgusted by the memory of her night with LaVallierre and felt the infection that followed was some kind of fitting punishment.

Still, her body wanted what it wanted, and she often found herself daydreaming of Jim's cock entering her in different ways. She looked to the internet and discovered there were countless websites offering advice to women who needed sexual release. Articles like "Girl, You Need That Orgasm!" gave lists of different methods and tools for self-gratification. How to stimulate your clit and tone your pussy muscles, how to get yourself off. Soon Linda was masturbating regularly, in the shower, in bed when Jim was asleep or away, sometimes even at work in her office with the door locked. The articles often recommended sex toys and woman-friendly porn. The old Linda would have balked at ordering such items online or going to adult stores or watching porn, but now she didn't hesitate. If Jim found out she was buying sex toys, so be it. She ordered a variety of dildos and lubes. She filled up her night stand and kept a small vibrator locked in her desk drawer at the office.

Linda tried out all of her new toys and found that some really did help her attain great orgasms. She slimmed down the collection, throwing away the items that didn't satisfy. Her favorite dildos were not too large or too small; they were just about Jim's size. For blowjob practice, she favored one Jim-sized silicone tool with balls. It had a suction cup she could attach to the wall, while another Jim-sized dildo with a clit tickler was lodged inside her pussy. The feeling was awesome, like she was being spit-roasted by two Jims. She had given Jim occasional blowjobs before but only as foreplay. Now she was learning to deep throat and ride the fake Jim, and loving it. It led to some earthshaking climaxes and surprised her that she could feel so good without a partner. She sometimes even asked herself if she needed the real Jim anymore, but of course her husband was more than just a cock.

***

JUNE

Nearing the end of her semester, Kandy showed me a draft of her thesis. The title was something like "Linear Thinking in the Post-modern American Male: Keeping Score and Settling Scores." I read the introduction and skimmed some of the rest. It was sort of a New Age take that men are linear and women are holistic. Men "keep score" more than women. Male tunnel vision versus female multitasking, Mars and Venus, that kind of thing. She pointed out the case study that covered me and Linda. True to her word, she had kept it so vague that it could have been about almost any sudden occurrence of a cheating wife.

According to her, my case was interesting because childhood traumas made me emotionally resilient in unexpected ways. I worked out mental habits that enabled me to convert defeat into victory, anger into affection, depression into happiness. It seemed like mostly psychobabble to me, but I had to admit that it had done me some good to talk things out with her, when we weren't fucking. And some of her thesis hit home.

Was I keeping score? You bet. I added things up to see where I stood. Since that sucky February night, I had notched my share of wins: lots of great sex with Kandy, including the anal fuck of a lifetime at a discounted price. There was also a very satisfactory threesome with Kandy and an associate she called Nona, who reminded me of my wife when she was younger. We did every possible combination: dueling blowjobs, I fucked Nona while she ate Kandy, I fucked Kandy while she ate Nona, and ate Nona while Kandy rode me. They left me exhausted and with a big credit card bill, but it was one more check off my list. Going forward, I would keep a running mental tab of my scores. These were not wins against Linda; these were victories over all the other men in the world, past and present.

"All right, just call me linear," I told Kandy. She laughed when I whacked her butt, then gave me a last free blowjob for helping with her thesis before we said goodbye. It was the end of therapy, both kinds.

***

LATER IN JUNE

I kept an old laptop in my fuckpad, so I could surf the news during my lunch hours, then I would usually take a walk. The Camelott Inn was on the same street as my office building. I would usually walk farther down the street where there were some used book shops and junk stores to browse. One day I decided to circle around the block to the next street over, Gaunt Street.

There was a new restaurant that had valet parking. The place was unfamiliar to me. "Gino's" was a steak and lobster joint with a sports theme. It looked pretty posh. A tall blond guy was just getting out of a shiny orange Stingray at the front entrance. It was Marc LaVallierre. The valets took his car around the back and he went inside.

Curious, I walked to the end of the block and took a left. At the alley I looked back toward the restaurant. I could just see a glint of the orange Stingray at the edge of the parking lot. I strolled down the alley, trying to look casual. LaVallierre's car was right there at the back edge of the lot with a couple of other expensive cars. Maybe that was their VIP parking. More ordinary cars were parked close together in the middle of the lot. There were a couple of surveillance cameras. The lot was separated from the alley by a low concrete wall topped by a chain link fence. The front of the Corvette was right there, and I could read the license plate: "MARC 02".

I walked on by, thinking about it. Before going back to my office, I stopped into a thrift store and found an old Mackerels sweatshirt and a matching cap. Both items were stained and ugly, and it was half-off Tuesday so they cost me less than ten bucks. At a nearby dollar store, I bought some cheap sunglasses and a fake mustache. It was good to be prepared. Back at the Camelott Inn I did a websearch on Gino's and found that LaVallierre was a part owner and often ate there. My lunch hour had gone a little long, so I worked late that day.

***

The next day I put on my disguise and walked by Gino's. I didn't see LaVallierre going in, but when I walked down the alley there was a black Escalade with a license plate "MARC 03". I just walked by, noticing that the chain link fence had a gate into the alley. It was padlocked.

I went back to the Camelott Inn and thought about it. LaVallierre had at least two cars he drove to Gino's. If he kept coming, I could figure out a way to fuck up one or both of those cars, but wasn't sure it would be worth it. A Stingray and an Escalade, big deal. Local dealers probably let him have them for free, new ones every year. I needed something better than a General Motors product to exorcise my hatred. I decided to continue surveillance of Gino's to see what developed. The next day there was no car in LaVallierre's spot. But the day after that, I got lucky.

***

It was a hot day even for June, and I drank two beers with my sandwich at the Inn. I was a little drowsy and almost decided not to bother with Gino's, but something told me to persevere. I put on my disguise and walked over to the restaurant, just in time to see LaVallierre getting out of a car I had not seen before. It was a metallic blue sports car, really exotic. By the time I walked around to the alley the blue car was parked in LaVallierre's spot. The plate read "MARC ONE". I didn't know much about luxury cars, but even I could recognize this was too elegant to be a dealer freebee. The logo on the hood said it was a Ferrari. Best of all, it was a convertible with the top off and the windows down. I knew what I wanted to do, but the fence was in the way and climbing it would be a pain. I went over to the gate and looked at the padlock. It was a cheap one, old and rusty. I jerked on it and the hasp came apart. Soon I was standing next to the driver's door of the asshole's Ferrari.

My bladder was full from the beer and I knew this would be a good, hard one. I took out my cock and started pissing. First I sprayed the rich black leather of the driver's seat. It had that new leather smell and now it would have an additional fragrance. I directed my stream to the steering wheel and the dashboard and the floor. The speedometer and display screen got special attention. My flow was strong enough to drench the passenger seat and center console. Those MeToo women may have slapped the guy, but none of them could accurately piss standing up. The dick has its uses. Few things in life feel better than a good strong whiz when you need to go, and I would have enjoyed this sensation even without the added thrill of defiling Mister Asshole's prize vehicle. Mark my woman, and I'll mark your fuckin' Ferrari! I was starting on a second treatment of the driver's seat upholstery when I heard a shout.

"Hey, pissant! Get away from my car!"

Apparently the surveillance cameras did work. Marc LaVallierre was halfway across the parking lot, closing in fast. There was nowhere to run. I knew he would soon be on me, so decided to finish the job at hand. It might be my last act in this lifetime and it needed to be thorough. Resigned to the coming pain, I did my best to soak the driver's side headrest. The big bastard was only ten feet away from me when he seemed to trip over his own feet and fall to the ground. He grabbed his knees and started groaning, "Oh shit, oh fuck, god that hurts!"

I shook out the last drops and zipped up. The car interior was dripping, steaming and pungent. LaVallierre was still on the ground. He had gone down like a clumsy oaf and now the sore knees were all he could think about. He kept repeating a litany of curses to ease the pain. I wondered what was wrong with him. It didn't look to me like he landed on his knees when he fell. I walked past the writhing athlete, studying him. He wasn't so scary when he was down. Should I have saved some urine for his face? Nah, I didn't need to do that. At the moment, he was just pathetic.

I said, "Enjoy your ride, wife fucker," and took my time walking away. I could hear him cursing as I went through the gate and down the alley. "Fucking shit, goddamn, shit-hell, my fucking knees..." Sooner or later the parking valets would find him if he needed help.

***

Linda and Ronnie met up with Rolf at The Light, a gay bar that offered lunch. She was enjoying her Nepalese dumplings and the attentions of the staff. She was the only woman in the place and the young dude waiters were fussing over her like visiting royalty, asking if the food was all right and refilling her water glass every two minutes.

"You are just so lovely, Linda," Ronnie enthused. "You remind them all of Elizabeth Taylor in her prime."

Rolf said, "I was thinking more like Dana Wynter in 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'".

Ronnie laughed. "Oh come on, Rolf. Linda belongs in a drama, not a horror movie."

Rolf said, "Well, I think she could do both. Let's say Jean Simmons in 'Elmer Gantry'."

Rolf kept a straight face while Ronnie broke down in laughter.

Linda blushed but let them say it. They were fun guys giving her compliments. Best of all, they were friendly without trying to screw her.

Ronnie said, "Rolf, you have to meet Linda's husband Jim. He is better looking than Burt."

Rolf said, "Really? Wow!"

Linda said, "Who is Burt?"

Ronnie said, "Burt Lancaster. He was Elmer Gantry in the movie."

Linda said, "I'll have to see the movie."

Rolf was in many ways the opposite of Ronnie. He was a big muscular guy, and spoke with deliberation and thoughtfulness. Like Ronnie, he had a neat beard, but his head was shaved and he wore wire-rimmed glasses. His manner was mostly serious, but Linda soon noticed a dry sense of humor that she found appealing. She would not have taken him for gay, if Ronnie had not introduced him as a boyfriend. Seeing them together, they appeared well matched. Rolf was the strong silent partner to Ronnie's histrionic presence. They were both well dressed, well groomed and very handsome. And they were bookhounds.

Rolf talked about his job at the bookstore next door, The Other Light. The owner was getting ready to retire and Rolf hoped to scrape together enough money to buy him out of the bookstore. They all shared a love of literature, and Linda was excited for Rolf. She had always wanted to work in a fine bookstore. Owning one would be like a dream. She sincerely hoped Rolf could pull it off.

***

As they were walking back to the office, Ronnie starting talking about the next round of layoffs, It was rumored to be a big one, and they both dreaded the prospect.

"I hate to give people the bad news," Ronnie said, "It's like another small death every time I have to say the words. But I was wondering, Linda..." His voice trailed off and she looked at him.

"What is it, Ronnie?" He looked ashamed.

"I was wondering if there is any chance for me to get some bad news."

It took her a moment to catch his meaning. "You want to get laid off, Ronnie?"

"Don't get me wrong, Linda. Working with you has been wonderful. But I'm starting to dread coming to work. The company is going down, and I'm afraid we'll be having another layoff every quarter until the place goes under or gets sold. If I could get the severance package, it wouldn't be much, but it might be enough to help Rolf buy the bookstore. We have talked about it. He wants to rename it the R and R Bookstore for our two names."

"Oh Ronnie, that's sweet. But I don't know if there is much chance for you to be let go. Your performance has been so good."

They left it at that, but Linda kept thinking about Ronnie's request through the afternoon. Workforce reductions were supposed to be conducted according to some objective ranking formula, but nobody really believed that. Every manager played favorites and settled personal grudges. Maybe she could grant Ronnie his wish.

***

JULY

It was only two weeks later that Linda gave Ronnie the good "bad news". They were in her office with the door closed.

"You're fired, Ronnie," she said, making a chopping gesture. She slid a sheaf of documents across the desk to him. His face lit up with joy.

"Aren't you supposed to tell me it's nothing personal and you are sorry it has to be this way?"

"Nope. You're just canned, Ronnie. Clean out your desk and security will escort you from the building. Don't let the door hit your butt on the way out."

They were both grinning.

"By the way, in addition to six weeks salary in a lump sum, your package includes a deferred bonus of eight thousand dollars."

"Eight thousand, what's that for?"

"Like I said, it's a deferred bonus." She leaned forward so their heads were close together and murmured, "I got the legal department to kick that in. That's so you won't sue us."

"I wouldn't do that!" Ronnie mumbled, confused.

"Sure, but they didn't know that."

Ronnie straightened and shook his head in surprise. "All I can say is wow!"

"It's been great working with you, Ronnie."

"Be sure to come by the bookstore. We'll have a grand reopening soon."

They both got up and hugged. She was sorry to watch him go, but glad for him to be out of this corporate mess. Ronnie was right. There would be more layoffs, with no end in sight. A part of Linda wished she could leave the company with Ronnie.

***

I was spending more and more time at the Camelott Inn, lunch hours and overnights. Sometimes I took a day off from work and stayed there all day, letting Linda think I was working. With Kandy gone, I wasn't having sex with anyone but myself. Still the distance did me good, and helped me to remember who I was outside of work and marriage.

Raj reopened the exercise room after he installed a new TV, treadmill and elliptical machines. Few people ever used it. I would spend hours on the machines, watching the tube. Then I would lift weights. I was feeling better physically than I had in a long time.

I kept my laptop in the room, and I started reading online amateur stories just for enjoyment. I discovered there were a lot of stories about cheating wives on sites like reddit. To some extent I could relate to those, but most of them were so grim and moralistic that they left me unsatisfied. Some guy would thunder,"You made a vow before God and family!" and I would shut down. Dude, give me a break and leave God out of it. I moved on to stories about family betrayals -- the neglected son or daughter who became a billionaire and cut their relatives dead after years of humiliation. After awhile those were just too whiny.

Then I found my comfort zone in a website for western fan fiction. There were several basic situations I enjoyed. A new sheriff in a lawless town. An outlaw trying to hang up his guns. A range war between rival ranchers. A hired gun defending a village against marauders. I read hundreds of stories in a short time.

Pretty soon I tried my hand at writing a western story and posted it online. It was about a cowboy avenging his family. I included plenty of details about the weapons he used -- a Colt Navy revolver, a Henry rifle and a Bowie knife. I also made sure the hero got laid by a whore with a heart of gold. He stomped and killed all the bad guys, then his whore quit the trade and they got married and bought a ranch. After posting the story, I was pleased to see that a few hundred people read it and quite a few of them posted positive comments. So I planned to write some more stories. Trying to come up with a tough sounding pen name, I settled on Rock Hawkins.

***

Linda decided she had to know what Jim was doing on his nights away. He made vague excuses about needing space, but she was pretty sure he was screwing his whore or someone else because he never touched her anymore. On one of his regular away nights, she arranged for Mrs. Porter to take the kids.

In preparation, Linda went to a salon and got her pussy waxed for the first time. The process was a little uncomfortable, but she felt nice and smooth afterwards. At home, she went to the bedroom and stripped off her clothes. She stood naked, running her hands over her smooth mound and ass. She wanted to rub one out, but decided to save it for later. If Jim didn't appreciate her new pussy she would find somebody who did, even if it was only herself.

After a long shower, she took her time getting dressed. She put on a new crotchless thong and barely-there bra, light makeup. After examining herself from every angle in the mirror, she was ready to do battle. If Jim was there with some bitch, she was going to settle once and for all whose man he was. She put on a plain skirt and blouse. There was no need for a flashy dress. She would either be taking her clothes off or she would leave.

She got Jim's spare key out of the kitchen drawer. The name and address of the Camelott Inn were right on the fob with Jim's suite number. She knew the area. As she drove downtown, she felt more and more sexy with her newly smooth crotch, and her pussy was tingling. One way or another she would get her rocks off tonight.

She parked in the Camelott Inn parking lot and made her way to Jim's suite. She listened at the door. Just as she expected, there was a sound of low groans. He was doing it with the whore! It was time to bring things to a head. She swiped the key and opened the door.

The room was a little dim and she took a moment to orient herself. She could see an open door and a rumpled bed across the room, but there was no one in the bed. The moans continued but they didn't sound real. Then she saw Jim. He was reclined on the sofa in his underwear, apparently asleep. His laptop was open on the coffee table in front of him, next to a bowl of popcorn.

She slipped off her shoes and walked over to Jim. He was snoring lightly. A porn video was streaming on the laptop, a blonde girl getting it doggy style, nothing out of the ordinary. Linda slipped off her skirt and blouse. Her pussy was lubricating heavily now, she really needed to get off. She got on the sofa on her knees. There was just barely enough space to place her knees on either side of Jim so she could lower her pussy to his face. It was a good thing the thong was crotchless. She planted her labia right over his nose and mouth. Linda stroked her erect nipples through the bra as she slid her wet sex across his face. She was so close already. Still half asleep, Jim started to sputter and gasp.

"Wake up, Jim. I'm sure you must be hungry."

***

For a moment I felt panic. Was this a nightmare? I couldn't see anything and was afraid I might be drowning. Then I was hit by the familiar taste, the taste of home, the scent of an aroused woman's pussy with a hint of perfume. It was Linda's pussy, smoother than ever before, and after four months it hit me how much I had missed it. Eating my wife's cunt was not new, but she had never sat on my face like this and hearing her groans of excitement made me instantly hard. I reached up to grip her ass cheeks and adjust her position, extending my tongue to tease her clit and penetrate her depths. I could feel her fumbling with my shorts and I lifted my ass to help. Soon she had them off and my cock was in her mouth. I tried to raise my head so I could rim her, but as she swallowed my entire length I couldn't quite get there, so I settled for tonguing her clit as she deep-throated me. Nobody had ever blown me like this, and I felt my cum surging already. Linda released my dick enough to scream "Oh Jim! Oh Jim!" and my face was flooded with pussy cum. Then she inhaled me and sucked again. At that moment, my body writhed with an explosive surge of jizz into Linda's throat and she drank it down, purring like a kitten.

For a couple of minutes, we laid there with our mouths full of each other's dripping parts. Finally, with a little groan, Linda released my shrinking soldier and climbed off. She nestled against me, with her head on my chest.

"What do you think?" she murmured.

"Wow, where did you learn to do that?" I asked, then, "Never mind, don't tell me." I probably didn't want to know.

We laid there against each other, almost dozing, but after awhile I got hard again. Not just hard, but rock hard, like it was a forbidden thrill to be doing it with my wife. Linda took the initiative, tearing off her wispy underthings and then helping me out of my t-shirt. She grasped my dick and, studying it, began to recite

"Here love's damp muscle dries and dies

Here break a kiss in no love's quarry,

O see the poles of promise in the boys."

"What?"

"Dylan Thomas," Linda said. "Words do matter, Jim. Can you say some poetry?"

I wracked my brain, and could only think of one line. "I sing the body electric," I said.

"Good," Linda said. She took my cock in her mouth and cleaned it off, then still looking at it, continued,

"We are resolved into the supreme air,

We are made one with what we touch and see."

"That was Oscar Wilde. Give me another line, Jim," she said.

"Roses are red, violets are blue..."

"Never mind," Linda said.

She turned to the side and showed me her perfect ass, and if God made anything better he kept it for himself. My dick was so hard it was almost buzzing and I rubbed it up and down her ass crack and her beautiful globes. It felt like I was getting even harder! Linda reached behind her to take my erection in her little hand. At that point, she could have led me anywhere, and she guided me into her pussy. It was so wet it was hard to believe I hadn't already come inside her. Filling her up, I sensed every nook and cranny of her interior, and couldn't believe how good it felt. I reached around to fondle her stiff nipples. Linda began to milk me with her muscles and I wondered if Columbus felt this good when he discovered the New World. No, bad comparison -- probably Columbus had scurvy and didn't feel good at all, fuck Columbus! For the next few minutes, Linda played me like a violin with subtle twists of her pelvis and contractions of her twat. I don't know how she did it, making me feel so good without making me come. Was this really the same pussy I knew so well? Then I saw her arm move, and I knew she was rubbing herself. She started to gasp, and I started to come. I came and came until I saw stars, and Linda was moaning with ecstasy all the way through. We both passed out for awhile.

Eventually we came to, and I had to ask, "Okay, where *did* you learn that stuff?"

"Cosmo," Linda said.

I felt a flash of anger. "Who the fuck is Cosmo?"

"The magazine, dummy," Linda said. "I've been practicing with toys and things. Was it good enough?"

"Yes, honey, it was pretty darn good." In fact it was the greatest sex of my life, but I wasn't going to tell her that. Not just yet. Then I remembered a line of poetry from ninth grade English.

"Something there is that doesn't love a wall," I said, "Robert Frost."

"Okay, Jim, we can work on that."

***

I turned my laptop to some cool jazz, and for awhile we laid there together, naked and half asleep. Then Linda raised up on her elbow to look at me. "Jim, can we talk?"

I thought oh shit, just when I thought things were getting better between us. Well, at least she didn't say we *have* to talk. Still dreading it, I said, "Sure, what's on your mind?"

She pursed her lips, as if sucking on a lemon, then it came out. "I want to apologize."

"Okay, for what?"

"For everything," she said. "For making things weird between us. For stepping out on you. For fucking that asshole and getting the clap. All of it is on me."

I almost laughed. "Linda, you just used the f word!"

"I know I did," she said solemnly. "Words have power and it matters how you use them. Poets have always known that. From now on, I will use the f word when it's appropriate. I will call a fuck a fuck. Because fucking is what it was with Marc LaVallierre."

Now we were getting somewhere. "So why did you do it? I didn't think you were a fan of his."

"I wasn't. Just Dee and Jane and the others thought he was so special, and then he picked me. He was good looking, had a pretty good line, and when we danced it made my pussy wet. It wasn't like me, not the real me, but the next thing I knew..."

Linda hesitated. She was struggling to get the words out. "The next thing I knew, well, I wasn't thinking with my mind. I was thinking with my cunt!" Linda looked disgusted at herself as the words left her mouth, but I felt something ease inside me. At last she had said something real.

"So was it good?"

She shook her head. "I'll be honest. He was big and he made me come, but it wasn't that special and it wore me out. Before I met you, I had a boyfriend who was about that size, and he could go all night. This was about the same. After awhile it's like doing it with a horse, once you've had enough you just want it to stop. I should have remembered that. Not that I ever really did it with a horse."

"Tell the truth. Would you do it again?"

Linda shook her head strongly. "God no, and not just because of the clap."

She laid her hand on my limp cock, still wet with our combined juices. "One thing I love about you, Jim, you are the right size. Big enough to fill me up, but not so big it hurts. You are just right. And the rest of you is the right size too. I don't need to be with a giant who could break me in half."

Thinking of Kandy's heroic proportions, I told Linda she was the right size too.

***

After awhile, I got hard again. Linda said she wanted to christen each fuck with some lines of poetry but couldn't think of anything good at the moment, so she just climbed on top and impaled herself on me. It was a long, slow, loving screw. Occasionally, she would stop and lean forward to kiss me or dangle her tits in my face. We both came hard at the same time again, although I was just about shooting blanks by now.

When we both woke up from a light doze, Linda wanted to talk some more. She looked serious again.

"So, Jim, tell me about the sex you are having with this escort. Is she the only one?"

I decided to be semi-honest, telling her there was one other pro, one time, but not explaining the threesome with Kandy and Nona. It was all just sex, I emphasized, not mentioning the importance of my bucket list entries. And it was over. Kandy had completed her PhD and moved to California. Nona was a one-off. For the past few weeks I had spent my two nights a week here alone, watching porn and jerking off when I wasn't reading or playing cards. That was the truth. If she didn't believe it, tough.

"So I know you liked that big whore, or escort, or whatever you want to call her. Can I compete? Is my body good enough for you?"

I pretended to consider this. "Well, let me see. Your tits are the on small side and your ass isn't very big either, and your pussy, well I don't know about your pussy." I put on a fake frown. Linda was looking a little nervous, wondering if I was serious.

"Let me examine these parts more closely," I said. I grasped her right tit and licked the nipple, making it hard. "This one here is a nice handful and the nipple is a little bit bigger and puffier than it was when we first met. That must be from nursing. In fact, that is exactly how I like it." I grasped her left tit and nibbled. "Just checking. Yes, this one is just as good as the other one, maybe a little better." She was starting to giggle. I ran my palm across the curve of her hip. "And this ass, well it flares out a little more than it used to, probably from giving birth. This is definitely a woman's ass." I slapped it, making a nice smacking sound.. "I like the size and shape of it and the flesh is like a ripe melon. Nope, no complaints about your ass."

I moved down and spread her knees so I was looking at her wide open cunt, with a trickle of my cum running out onto the sheets. Now she was laughing out loud. "As for this pussy, I know from recent experience that it tastes great, and it fits my medium-sized equipment just about right. I don't need to clean you out to verify that. And the new haircut is very nice." Pushing her knees back together, I crawled back up to hold her close.

"So here is the verdict. All things considered, your body is more than good enough. And your face could launch a thousand ships. You are definitely a serious contender. So far, that is. I wouldn't want you to get complacent."

Linda smiled and laid her palm on my cheek. "And you don't resent it that I can't give you a tit fuck?"

This made me laugh, just hearing her say the words. "No worries, Linda. Mammary intercourse is kind of like anchovies on pizza. I tried it once and I don't need it again."

"Well, that's good to know."

We got to talking about our sexual history, things we had never discussed before. Linda told me about her first attempt at a blowjob in high school; it didn't go well. She broke up with that boy soon afterward, so he would never benefit from the skills she acquired later on. A couple of years ago, she heard that same boy, now a man, had taken his own life on Valentine's Day. It was absurd, but she sometimes wondered whether he would still be alive if she had given him a better blowjob all those years ago. I reassured her that my first time eating pussy didn't go any better, and it wouldn't be on me if the girl later killed herself.

Linda lost her virginity at a later age than I did, but it turned out that we had about the same total number of sexual partners to date, including short flings and one-nighters. It was a wonder she never got crabs or anything. I had assumed Linda was less experienced when we met, but should have known she was too good in the sack not to have had some practice. This was in line with something Kandy told me. Women tended to downplay their sexual experience, while men liked to exaggerate. It made sense. Now that we were being honest, it felt like the playing field was level.

We spent the rest of the night at the Camelott Inn and had a great time. I thought maybe we could make it a tradition.

***

In the morning we went together to pick up the kids at Mrs. Porter's. We all had breakfast together and Linda took them to school while I went back to work.

On my lunch hour, I was back at the Camelott Inn. I picked up a free newspaper at the front desk and went to my suite. The bed was still a mess from the night before and the room needed airing out. Linda had left her naughty underwear on the sofa. "In case you need it," she said. The scent of her crotchless panties was intoxicating, but I was all fucked out from the night before. Dick limp and tired, but happy. I would save the panties for another day.

I took a look at the newspaper. Layla Lanyon, the cheerleader who slugged Marc LaVallierre, was back in the news. The story said Layla got suspended from cheerleading after the infamous punch. Now the team had lifted the suspension and invited her back. Her reaction was the story. "Oh, the team wants me back now? Well, whoopty doo! I could make more money flipping burgers but that's just wonderful. So my real reaction? You know what, Mack the Fuckerels! I'm going to Hollywood!" The headline was "Mack the F***erels!". I thought, now there's a girl who knows how to keep score.

Thinking of Kandy's thesis about men keeping score, I went over my mental scorecard again. The new score was that I had the greatest PIV sex ever with Linda, after 10 years of marriage. As far as I could read her mind and body, it was as good for her as it was for me. That was huge.

As for our marriage, it did feel as if we were getting back on the same page, but there was the question of trust. Could I trust Linda again? From the LaVallierre incident, I knew my wife could be deceitful, but I also knew that she wasn't good at it, especially when "thinking with her cunt". Her guilty look before she left me and the half-assed attempt to get Dee to smooth things over told me that she didn't know how to cheat. So it was pretty certain that if she did it again, I would know. She'd get one more chance. If she pulled another betrayal, that would be the end. No divorce, no burn, I would just disappear. Maybe hang around until the kids were grown, after that I'd be gone like a cool breeze. That was settled.

And were my scores settled? Absolutely. I pissed all over Marc LaVallierre's million dollar Ferrari and watched him cry like a baby when he fell down. The latest news was that the team was dropping him after poor performance in spring training. A morals clause and negative publicity were excuses given by the team to get out of his contract, but the real reason was that they thought he was finished. LaVallierre was a standout player with the Mackerels when they were mediocre. Now he was being picked up by the Groupers, the worst team in football. The Groupers were taking a chance, hoping for a turnaround. They wouldn't be paying him much unless he delivered. Tabloid scuttlebutt had it that he was damaged goods, had lost his running speed and was falling more than he was staying up. The rumor was that he had chronic joint inflammation from years of untreated STDs. It finally caught up to him, and cortisone couldn't fix the problem. I guessed that would explain the fall when he tried to catch me. His knees were shot. It was karma. So I was ahead of the sonofabitch. Hooray for me, the winner!

There was an investment brokerage just down the street, and it only took me about ten minutes to set up a new account and invest my bonus money there. It would be the start of my getaway fund, in case I needed to bail out. Linda left it to me to pay our taxes and handle financial matters, so she would never know.

***

OCTOBER

It was another routine day at work, but Linda was feeling good about her life. The LaVallierre debacle and her clap infection were receding into the past and it felt as if her marriage was on the way to recovery. It wasn't like before, but in some ways it was improved. Sex with Jim was better than ever, three to five times a week now, always satisfying and sometimes borderline kinky. She came easily and often and Jim never failed to get it up. They masturbated together when full-on sex seemed like too much work. One evening, she offered Jim her virgin ass and was surprised that he took a rain check, saying it was something like caviar and they could save it for a special occasion. This was okay with Linda. She thought of anal as a guy thing, and didn't really expect to enjoy it.

Outside the bedroom, there was no strain and lots of laughter around the dinner table and on family outings. Emma and Tommy were happy, feeling the improved rapport between Mom and Dad. They stopped going out with their old one and done crowd, but some of the slack was taken up by their new friends Rolf and Ronnie. They had frequent dinner parties. Rolf was a better cook than Linda, so more often than not he was the host. Rolf's house was a big old Victorian place with cupolas. Ronnie lived there too, but they called it Rolf's house. The kids loved exploring the musty corners of Uncle Rolf's attic and spying on the neighborhood from the turret windows.

Rolf and Jim got to be buds, and Jim spent a lot of weekends helping Rolf work on his home improvements and restorations, while Ronnie and Linda baked a cake or went shopping. Rolf had a basement full of power tools, and they were both good enough carpenters, working together to make beautiful custom trim and railings, even furniture.

There was a similar Victorian for sale down the street that Jim had his eye on. A realtor gave them a walk-through tour one Saturday. It needed a little work but was a beautiful house and the kids loved it as much as Linda did. They were talking about making an offer. Rolf told Jim they could work on both houses together. It sounded like so much fun.

Linda and Jim made frequent visits to the R and R Bookstore, and it was a fascinating place. Soon it became the best bookstore in the area for collectibles and poetry, and there was a large room that could be used for readings and small concerts. Linda couldn't help being envious of those two guys. They were living their dream, spending their days on fine books and interesting people. It looked much more appealing than her career as a corporate drone, even if there wasn't much money in it.

Just the other night they went out dancing together at a gay-friendly club. Rolf and Ronnie made a handsome couple on the dance floor. When strange men asked Linda to dance, she told them she was only dancing with her husband. Jim told Rolf and Ronnie he was only dancing with his wife, so don't bother to ask, which got a laugh. Then Ronnie asked if he could dance with Linda and Jim said sure, if she wants to. Ronnie was a great dancer, almost like a professional. After two fast dances with Ronnie, she felt like she was flying. Then she cuddled up to Jim for the next slow one, and everything was just perfect. Life was good.

So Linda was feeling pretty optimistic before the email came down from corporate: "Workforce Recalibration in the Coming Quarter". The title gave her a sinking feeling. Anything about "workforce" would probably mean more layoffs. She started reading through the corporate jargon, and she was not wrong. The company was aiming at a 15% reduction in staff by the end of the year. This would mean shedding thousands of employees, and after the previous layoffs there wasn't that much deadwood left. Linda hated her job. Most of the managers in the company didn't have the nerve to do their own firing. They left it to Linda's department to swing the axe.

Then she got to a timeline paragraph, and was surprised to read that involuntary terminations would not be mandated until the second half of the quarter. The number of layoffs would be determined by what happened in the first half. The explanation that followed was not what she expected.

***

It was hard to believe how well my career was going. Mr. Wentworth was ready to retire, and he had groomed me to take his place. His corner office would be mine, and my salary would double. As I suspected, Wentworth was after my secretary Judy. After a few dates, he proposed and she accepted. So Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth were headed for retirement in Palm Springs. It was a good thing I never tapped her. Now I would have three secretaries!

I didn't really give two shits about the company or my work, but I put in the time to hit all my marks and get the job done. It was mostly pretty easy, even if there was a lot of it. I outperformed the guys who had their egos wrapped up in the job because they pushed too hard. Ambitious women liked me because I was encouraging and didn't hit on them. I avoided ass kissing and overt ambition, so nobody saw me as a threat and everybody wanted me as an ally. Not caring served me well. Wentworth's executive position would fit me like a glove.

Linda's career was another matter. Women in management can't get away with a laid back attitude. Before my promotion, Linda made about as much money as I did, but it took more of a toll. Office politics were disgusting to her, and she often would complain about the problems at work. There was always this or that executive who treated people unfairly, or got promoted without merit. Her company had layoffs almost every quarter and she hated the way she had to treat people. As an HR director, she was involved in all the disciplinary action and firing, as well as complaints about harassment and discrimination. She took it all seriously, and I could see the strain in her face when she talked through workplace problems at home. I got tired of hearing about it but I guess she had to let it out.

So when Linda started talking about the latest layoffs, I almost tuned her out. Then it got interesting when she described something called the "voluntary separation plan", where employees could volunteer to be laid off. Most of HR was exempt from the VSP, but Linda found out she was eligible. It was because of her seniority. She was making the most money in her department, and it would save the company a lot to have her job taken over by some new grad. She would receive the maximum severance -- six months of salary and benefits, plus a thousand dollars for every year of service.

"So what would you do if you quit?" I asked.

"I could work at Rolf and Ronnie's bookstore," she said. "They made me a standing offer. I would love to take them up on it, but how would we make the house payments?"

I only thought it over for a minute. With my promotion I could cover everything even if Linda didn't work at all, but I didn't tell her that. I said, "Why don't you just go for it. We'll get by somehow."

She was surprised, and I could tell she was happy to hear it. The R and R Bookstore would give her something to do, something she wanted to do for a change. I didn't think there was much danger she would cheat on me with Rolf or Ronnie or any of their bookstore customers, but if she did I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

***

FRIDAY, February 29th (20 YEARS LATER)

Over the years, we stopped talking about the LaVallierre incident but, without saying why, we always celebrated February 29th on leap years. At the 20 year mark, I had reserved the Presidential Suite at the Madison Hotel and we were finishing a light champagne dinner from room service. From our table we had a sweeping view of the city lights. Linda had eaten daintily, careful not to get food particles on her blue satin robe. I expected to get her out of the robe once we finished the champagne. She was kind of quiet but I didn't know why.

"Cat got your tongue?" I asked, with my usual flair for originality.

"Jim, do you ever think back to what our marriage was like before, uh, before..."

"Before you fucked it up?"

She grimaced. "Yes, before I fucked it up." She still grudgingly used the f word when it was appropriate.

I smiled, wanting to put her at ease. "Well, Linda, when I try to picture what we were like I see those bride and groom figurines on a wedding cake. It was dork heaven. Comfortable, but I don't think it was real."

"You wouldn't want to go back to those days?"

"Go back? Oh, hell no. Anyway it's like missing your childhood. You can't get there from here. When I came back to the hotel that night, after you dumped me, I knew the life we had was over. Right then I said goodbye to all that. No more Ozzie and Harriet marriage. You go forward or you don't go at all. So here we are."

Linda looked thoughtful. We hadn't really talked about this in years.

She said, "I guess you were right. Goodbye to all that." We clinked glasses and drank. She was still a little subdued.

"Any regrets, Linda?"

"I wish I had never screwed that -- well, never mind, let's not go there. But I was just thinking, maybe I should have stayed with my career longer so we would have more money. You have been carrying it for all these years. My income from the bookstore barely pays the utilities. With me on the executive track we could have retired and gone on a world tour by now."

Maybe it was time to take the load off Linda's mind.

***

Just the day before we had been to see our financial planner Monica.

"You guys have done really well," Monica said. She showed us a chart she had printed off for us.

"According to these simulations, you will almost certainly have enough money for you both to live into your late nineties or even longer. That is if you both work for another five years before retirement and keep a balanced investment portfolio. Then you will want to stick to a sensible budget, as we discussed."

Linda said, "Retirement is a lovely word. It's hard to believe we are that close."

Monica was right. The mortgage on our restored Victorian was paid off and the kids had finished college and left home long ago. Emma and Tommy were both married and doing well in Silicon Valley. We would soon be grandparents. My salary was in the low to mid six figures, and Linda was still working at the R and R Bookstore as a part owner. We should be fine in retirement if we did all the sensible things Monica advised us to do. We could eat out once a week, trade in our cars every few years, visit the kids in California, maybe go to Hawaii or Europe some day.

But there was one thing the planner didn't know, and neither did Linda. I still had my secret getaway account. Over the years, every bonus and stock option exercise had gone into that account. I socked it away and didn't give it much thought. The last time I checked, the market value was a little over ten million dollars. Lately it occurred to me that I might never need to make that getaway because, as far as I could tell, Linda hadn't stepped out on me again. There was more than enough, and it wouldn't hurt to dip into it.

***

So I poured the last of the champagne and looked Linda in the eye. Even in her fifties she had kind of an Elizabeth Taylor thing going on, sexy with class. That was why I hadn't screwed another woman since Kandy left town. Linda knew how to keep me guessing, in a good way. She still showed a penchant for poetry-infused fucking, and not just on special occasions. This gave me a feeling for literature, if only because I associated elegant words with getting laid.

I told her, "Never mind your corporate career. The bookstore is where you belong. We have enough money, so don't worry about it. No matter what Monica says, I think we can retire sooner than later. And we just might be able to swing that world tour after all."

Her face brightened. "Jim, you are full of surprises!"

"You have no idea," I said. "And look who's talking."

Without getting out of her chair, Linda slipped the robe off her shoulders, exposing her naked body, pale pink against my dark view of the city skyline. Her breasts were as firm as ever, nipples erect. Smirking at me, she raised her glass and said, "I think I feel a night of Shakespeare coming on."

"Oh darn, I was hoping for e. e. cummings."

"We could do both."

We drank to that. The night was young, and I wondered how many of its thousand eyes were watching us right now.

***

EPILOGUE: WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

*DAVE AND DEE AND PHIL AND JANE

Our "one and done" friends group broke up within 6 months of the LaVallierre incident. Dee was the instigator. It probably shouldn't have been a surprise that the high school blowjob queen didn't think of oral sex as cheating. However, Dave didn't know Dee in high school, and it was a surprise to him when he caught her blowing Phil behind the garage at a backyard barbecue. For her part, Jane didn't think there was any kind of hall pass excuse for either Dee or Phil, even if they were both drunk.

In retaliation, Dave and Jane fucked several times, before Dave divorced Dee and left town. Phil and Jane stayed together at least until the kids were grown, but they avoided Dee and never went dancing again. Rumor had it that pussy-whupped Phil had to sleep on the couch for several years. I never got a chance to ask him if the blowjob was worth it. Dee married a real estate developer and moved to Chicago. She still keeps in touch with Linda, mostly by text.

*LAYLA LANYON

Executives at the Disney studio decided Layla Lanyon was too rough around the edges for the next Pippi Longstocking film, and for awhile it looked like her dreams of Hollywood stardom might not pan out. But then a novice director cast her in a low budget exploitation film called "Take This Ring and Shove It!". The movie turned out to be a sleeper hit, and was followed by two sequels that made money hand over fist. Layla Lanyon honed her skills in boxing and martial arts and went on to star in dozens of female vigilante films that were always profitable. Critics called her the new Pam Grier. By age 40, she had her own production company and lived in a mansion in BelAir. She is richer than any player in the NFL.

*KANDY

A couple of years after she moved to California, Kandy sent me a copy of her book: "Linear Men and Circular Women" by Dr. Kandace Kandinsky, PhD. She had reworked her thesis as a self help book. My case study was still in there, but it was hard to tell if my "linearity" was supposed to be a good example or a bad one. I don't think the book sold that well, but a few years later I started to see sexual advice columns under the byline "Dr. Kandy, your Boudoir Buddy". She was a regular on Slate, and pretty soon she had a popular Boudoir Buddy podcast. Her second book titled "Assholes and the Women Who Love Them" was a number one best seller, and after that she was all over the talk shows. Every time I saw her on TV, she had a different hair color -- blue, green, pink; otherwise she looked about the same. I suspected Kandy got some of her ideas about assholes from me, but I didn't begrudge her success.

*THE ASSHOLE

Marc LaVallierre sat on the bench for a year before the Groupers dropped him. That was the end of his pro football career -- no Super Bowl ring, no Hall of Fame. He fell into obscurity and was remembered mostly for his cocksmanship with married women, the stuff of dirty jokes. I heard nothing about him until I spotted a recent small headline, "Former NFL player dead at 45". The story didn't give much detail, so I searched and found the full saga on a trashy website called JellyRollKilledMyPapa. com. After LaVallierre was cut from the Groupers, he returned to his hometown of Bakersfield, California, where he tried running a waterbed store. That didn't work out, so he coached high school football until he got fired for screwing the principal's wife. He lived off what was left of his savings and little was heard about him until he turned up at a hospital seriously ill. He had cognitive issues, was half blind, and could barely walk. His weight was down to 110 pounds. Doctors were baffled by his symptoms until they ran an STD panel. LaVallierre was afflicted by a new antibiotic-resistant strain of syphilis, popularly known as the SuperSyph. There was no cure. The story featured heart-wrenching before and after pictures of the patient: from handsome and strong to gaunt and confused. It was reported that in his last days, Marc LaVallierre couldn't remember his own name. After he died, an autopsy was done and slides were made of his brain tissue. There were so many big holes that it looked like a slice of swiss cheese. Much as I had hated the guy, the story made me sad. Was he still an asshole if he didn't even know who he was? There was no need to tell Linda this depressing news.

The next morning I was sitting at the kitchen table across from Linda. She was drinking coffee when her phone rang. It was a text from Dee. She showed me her phone.

Dee: Did U here? Marc LaV dead!

Linda didn't look surprised. I watched her compose and send the reply, just two words.

Linda: Marc Who?

That was cold.

*THE CAMELOTT INN

In the beginning, Raj had a hard time making a go of the Camelott Inn. He would tell me his troubles while we were playing stud poker with his brothers and cousins. It was hard to compete with the national chains and customers were scarce. I kept renting my room there longer than planned, partly just to support the dream. I even made a few micro loans when Raj was having trouble making ends meet. Eventually, things turned around. The Camelott Inn didn't get the business trade, but it was perfect for families on a budget -- affordable, clean and friendly. It never turned into a "hot sheets" place, no thanks to Kandy and me. Things got a lot better when they gentrified downtown and built a new art museum and entertainment center. The Camelott Inn was the best deal in the area. Raj raised the rates, but he never raised my rate. After Rolf and Ronnie, Raj was my best friend now and I still hung out at the Inn every day on my lunch hour.

I no longer thought of my suite as a "fuckpad". Linda and I stayed there for an occasional night on the town. Then I started to use it as my writer's roost. I kept cranking out Rock Hawkins western stories and even produced a novel. It was not like I would quit my day job to be a pulp author, but the writing took me out of myself in ways nothing else did.

*THE R and R BOOKSTORE

Rolf and Ronnie are still together and the R and R has outlived B. Dalton, Borders and Waldenbooks to become the leading bookstore in the city. After Linda's voluntary layoff, she invested her severance in the store and went to work with Rolf and Ronnie as a full partner. It was a labor of love for the three of them, and they transformed the place into a cultural center and meeting place for the local literati. They even started a small publishing line (R and R Press) and put out several slim volumes from local poets. There was no profit in it, but it gave the bookstore added prestige.

Linda was no great fan of my western stories, but when she mentioned my hobby to Rolf, he asked to see a sample of my work. I showed him one of the Rock Hawkins stories and he thought it was pretty good. Rolf was the type of guy who would read any genre, and he had grown up on westerns by writers like Louis L'Amour and Elmore Leonard. He asked if I had anything longer, so I gave him my novel "Barbwire Bastards". I thought he was joking when he said he wanted to publish it, but he thought it was marketable. Ronnie and Linda had no objection, so before I knew it, there I was doing a signing party at the bookstore. There were about thirty guys in line for my autograph, and a lot of them were dressed up like ranch hands. I could swear some of them were hitting on me, and wondered what the hell was going on. Linda and the two Rs stood nearby smirking and giggling with each other.

When the event was over, Linda gave me a big smack on the lips and said, "Jim, that was so cute!"

Ronnie chimed in, "That was awesome! They loved you!"

I turned to Rolf, who was looking like the cat who got the cream.

"All right, big guy. What's the joke? Why are all these gay dudes flirting with me?"

Rolf put on his professorial manner. "Jim, there has always been a part of the gay community that fixated on the cowboy myth. Big sweaty men dressed in leather, riding big sweaty horses, and pointing big guns at each other. You get the idea."

"Okay, is there more?"

"Well, the name, Rock Hawkins. Who does that remind you of?"

"Nobody, that's why I picked it." I had no clue where he was going with this.

"Who was the biggest gay movie star in Hollywood?"

I was drawing a blank, then it hit me. "Rock Hudson? I never thought of that."

"Neither did I, but some of your fans did. They think you are sending a signal."

All I could say was "Wow!" Then I laughed. Rolf and Ronnie and Linda all laughed along with me. What the hell. It was nice to have an audience, and "Barbwire Bastards" had sold more copies than any of the poets. I was already working on a sequel.

THE END

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Poems referenced are:

"I See the Boys of Summer" by Dylan Thomas (1934)

"I Sing the Body Electric" by Walt Whitman (1855)

"We Are Made One with What We Touch and See" by Oscar Wilde (1881)

"Mending Wall" by Robert Frost (1914)

"The Night Has a Thousand Eyes" by Francis William Bourdillon (1897)

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