Quenching Any Spark of Independence

Author's Note: This story has been posted to Literotica. Com with the full knowledge of the original author, JimBob44. No part or whole of this story may be reprinted in any other format or on any other web site without the express written consent of the original author.

Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

This story has been edited by myself, using the tools of Microsoft Word. You have been forewarned; expect to find Ms. Aches.

Just a flash story that came to me as I quietly listened to my granddaughter bitching about her useless soon to be ex-husband. By the way, my wife was real proud of me for not reminding our granddaughter that I had told her the boy was a jackass the first time she brought him over.' Maybe I'm growing up?

Naaaah!

"Get, get out! Just, you need to sleep on the couch," she snarled, beautiful face twisted in a mask of bitterness.

"Okay," he smiled, causing her to blink.

It wasn't the acquiescence that surprised Bailey Dietor; she'd been asserting her dominance over Toby Greene for the majority of their relationship. It was the smile.

Bailey had expected whining; demands to know what he'd done wrong; pleas for forgiveness. And then, finally acceptance and a slow, deliberate shuffling off to the living room.

Toby would sit on the couch and sulk; the first two or three times he'd been banished to the couch he had cranked up the living room television in an attempt to assert some dominance over the situation. Bailey had marched into the living room, grabbed the remote control out of his hand and turned off the television. Then she'd taken the living room television remote control into the bedroom with her and silently dared him to come for the device.

The shutting of the front door alerted Bailey to a second shift in the situation. She marched into the living room just in time to hear the deadbolt twisting from the outside. Jerking the front door open triggered the alarm; Toby had apparently set the alarm just before stepping outside.

"Son of a, you, you son of a bitch!" Bailey screamed, trying to punch the code blindly into the key pad as the alarm shrieked loudly, insistently.

By the time she got the shrieking alarm shut off, the elevator had arrived, Toby had stepped into the polished metal box, and had descended the four floors down to the lobby of their building.

"Think, you think you're so God damned smart," Bailey shrilled, pulling up the 'Find My Phone' app on her phone.

She'd put the app on his phone five months ago. As far as she knew, Toby had not even noticed the app quietly running in the background, silently alerting Bailey of his every movement.

"What, where, where in the hell..." Bailey asked, seeing that Toby's phone showed that he was in St. Genevieve, South America.

Marching back to her, their bedroom, Bailey immediately called Lilah Whitford, her best friend and confidante. Lilah was just as stunned as Bailey when Bailey relayed all of the evening's events, then outlined all of Toby's uncharacteristic behavior. The far too expensive meal at the ridiculously overpriced Lamdana's Mediterranean Dining where she'd ordered a bottle of wine she could not even pronounce, oysters, a pasta dish and a dessert. And Toby had smiled, nodding along with her extravagance.

When the waitress quietly assured Toby that the gratuity was already included on the bill, Toby had amazed Bailey by insisting that the very attractive young woman add yet another ten percent 'for her wonderful service, her attention to detail.'

"Flirting? With our waitress? While I'm sitting right there? Not even five feet away from you?" Bailey exploded in the car for the forty three minute drive from restaurant to apartment.

And instead of defending himself, Toby just agreed with Bailey; he had been totally inappropriate; out of line. But even she had to agree; the young woman had been very attentive, refilling Bailey's wine glass any time Bailey's glass had been less than half filled. And that dessert? Out of this world. He really appreciated the woman taking the initiative in recommending it to him.

Since he was not giving her the satisfaction of arguing over his behavior at the dinner table; Bailey did wonder briefly just what that meal had cost, Bailey decided to attack his driving. He was driving too fast; he was being too careless. Once again, he agreed with her and slowed down to the posted speed limit. This seemed to infuriate more than one driver behind them but Toby just nodded and smiled politely as driver after driver whizzed past them, horns blowing and middle fingers extended.

When Bailey attacked him over the numerous drivers he was apparently goading, Toby simply said he'd pull over and let her drive, but she'd had most of a bottle of wine and was not willing to endanger her or himself. This. This was the thread, the reason to argue, to attack him, to defend herself. Once inside of their apartment, the apartment that had her name and only her name on the lease, with him as a guarantor on the property management's files, Bailey demanded, for the sin of even intimating she might have had too much to drink, he would sleep on their couch.

After ending her call with Lilah, Bailey undressed, admiring the beautiful half-cup bra and matching panties in virginal white, the lacy garter belt and nude stockings; an outfit Toby Greene would never ever see. Pinching her fat nipples between thumbs and forefingers, Bailey bit back the groan of pleasure. Sliding panties down and off, Bailey admired her neatly trimmed patch of dark curls, then located her Biggs Toys Monstro vibrator. She knelt on the bed, watching her erotic image in the free standing full length mirror as she sank onto the buzzy, thrumming beast. She only had half of the thick beast inside of her before the first orgasm pummeled her guts.

Toby did not return the next day, or the day after. Bailey received an alert from the apartment manager; the rent was a day late. A quick check of their joint checking account showed a balance of zero dollars.

"What? What did you do?" Bailey screamed into the cell phone when Toby answered.

"What? What do you mean, what did I do?" Toby asked, voice calm, steady despite her screaming.

"The rent is due," she screamed.

"Then I guess you better pay it," he said. "After all, whose name is on the lease?"

"Pay it with what? Our bank account is empty," Bailey thundered.

"Huh! Well, how much did you put into it?" Toby asked.

"That, that's not the point," she screamed.

"No Bailey. That's EXACTLY the point," Toby said. "Oh, and I also removed myself from your utilities."

"You, you did WHAT?" Bailey gasped, panicking.

"Anything else? I'm at work," Toby asked. "No? Okay."

"Don't you dare," Bailey started but he'd already disconnected.

Somehow, Bailey managed to get through the day. Arriving home, Bailey entered the apartment, then froze in shock; it was empty. His couch, the burgundy velour couch was gone; so too was his matching recliner. The beige and light green satin throw pillows she'd insisted he buy were stacked neatly against the wall.

His hideous chrome and glass kitchenette table and four chrome and burgundy velour chairs, the kitchen set she hated and complained about was gone. Laying on the floor were the straw place mats she'd bought for the table; Toby had placed them precisely on the floor as if they were still on the table. Also missing were the three chrome bar stools. But Bailey could see the spare key fob for her Lexus, see the two keys for the apartment's front door and storage unit in the sub-basement sitting next to the coffee mug she'd gifted to him on the first anniversary of their first date. She almost swept the ugly mug from faux granite counter onto the tiled floor.

"Oh, oh no, oh no," Bailey gasped, marching to the bedroom.

His tall dresser, his low dresser and mirror and his two nightstands were gone. So too was his queen sized bed. Her three pillows, her dark green fleece blanket lay on the floor; he'd neatly arranged them as if they were still on the bed. The contents of the drawers of low and tall dressers and nightstands lay neatly on the floor as if they were still in the drawers.

He'd even taken the free standing full length mirror; she loved that mirror. Bailey loved that mirror because that mirror loved Bailey.

"Yes?" Bailey answered her cell phone when she finally realized that odd sound she was hearing was her cell phone ringing from the depths of her faux Barragona bag.

"I uh, yes, yes ma'am; this, this is Ms. Dietor?" a man's gravelly voice asked.

"Yes. Yes, this is Bailey Dietor," Bailey agreed, still looking around at her ransacked apartment.

"Well uh, Ms. Dietor? I, we, well, the thing of it is, without Mr. Greene as a guarantor on your lease?" the man said, sounding truly apologetic.

"Son. Of. A. BITCH!" Bailey screamed.

Lilah was sympathetic but no, she could not loan Bailey the twenty eight hundred dollars rent. No, she was sorry but she would not sign on as a guarantor for Bailey's lease. Bailey hung up on Lilah when Lilah reminded Bailey that Bailey made only three thousand six hundred dollars a month. Without Toby's income, Bailey would not, could not afford to live in the Garden Estates Apartment Complex.

A check of her personal account was not necessary; Bailey knew she had roughly two hundred dollars in her account. The payment for her Lexus lease, insurance, and credit cards had already come out of her account on the first of the month. Steeling herself, Bailey went and sat on the only place to sit in the apartment; the toilet. Sure enough, one hundred eighty seven dollars and ninety one cents stared up at her as she looked at her personal savings account.

"Ms. Dietor? This is Mr. Franks; the manager of the Garden Estates?" the voice mail announced two days after Toby had removed his furniture from the apartment. "Ms. Dietor; you've been a fairly good tenant; hell, this is the first time you've been late so if you can get me the rent by four thirty this afternoon? I won't tack on any late fees."

Again, Lilah was sympathetic but would not loan Bailey the money. Bailey's mother would not loan her daughter the money; Bailey hung up on her mother as her mother was asking when Bailey planned on repaying the twenty one hundred dollars the new tires for Bailey's car had cost. Bailey's father would gladly give Bailey the money; he would gladly be a guarantor of her lease. But Ronald's new wife would be sure to block any and all efforts by Bailey to take advantage of Ronald's Alzheimer's disease.

"Well, the good news is, without his furniture? You really don't have much to pack, do you?" Lilah tried to comfort Bailey over the delicious imitation crab meat over mixed greens. "God! I just love this dressing!"

"Lilah, I, I'm going to be homeless and that's all you can say?" Bailey snarled bitterly. "I don't have much to pack? Really?"

"Hey, hey, nuh uh. I'm paying for this lunch. Don't you be bitchy with me," Lilah snapped as the simpering waiter refilled Lilah's glass of unsweetened iced tea.

"Can this get any worse?" Bailey groaned as her own glass was refilled.

"Mrs. Whitford? Ms. Cronin would like a moment of your time," Regina, the beautiful red headed receptionist whispered when Lilah and Bailey returned from their three hour lunch.

"Oh. No," both Bailey and Lilah looked worriedly at one another as they stepped into the elevator.

Bailey went to her desk, logged on to her computer and quickly checked her time card. She smiled; it showed that she had clocked back in from her allotted thirty minute lunch break at exactly twelve fifteen. With a giggle, she reminded herself that it was now time for her coffee break.

Lilah's sobbing could be heard from down the hall. The far too sweet coffee turned to bile in Bailey's stomach and she dumped the coffee into the sink. She ignored the heavy-set Accounts manager that snapped that Bailey's mother did not work here; Bailey needed to clean her own mug and spoon. Bailey returned to her desk just in time to receive Ms. Cronin's phone call.

"Hmm. I see you clocked in at twelve fifteen," Ms. Cronin said when Bailey sat down across the heavy chrome and stainless steel desk of the HR Manager.

"I uh, yes, yes ma'am," Bailey agreed. "I uh, I clocked out for lunch at..."

"Yet, you did not answer your phone when I called at one o'clock. Nor did you respond to my follow-up inner office memo," Ms. Cronin continued speaking over Bailey's stammering.

"I uh, I must have been in the bathroom at that..." Bailey started to defend herself.

"Or at one forty five, or at two fifteen," Ms. Cronin continued, finally looking up from her monitor.

"I uh..." Bailey started, then stopped.

"The reason I wanted to speak with you," Ms. Cronin said, unblinking as she stared at Bailey's pale, sweating face. "Is we received some hmm, some information hmm, regarding a ah, a relationship hmm, between yourself and a uh, a Mrs. Whitford."

"We, we're just friends," Bailey said as Ms. Cronin placed some printouts that showed Bailey and Lilah kissing, undressing, kissing, making love.

"How, how did, how..." Bailey asked, recognizing the bedroom of her Garden Estates Apartment in the printouts.

"Delivered anonymously to Regina this morning," Ms. Cronin said, continuing to place damning photograph after damning photograph on the desk in front of Bailey.

"Son of a bitch, son of a bitch! The, the God damned security cameras!" Bailey blurted out, remembering far too late that Toby had installed cameras in their apartment after someone had broken into Mrs. Elderman's apartment right below theirs.

"And fraternization? Between supervisor and subordinate? Especially when one of the two parties is married?" Ms. Cronin said, finally picking up the pictures.

"I, I was coerced," Bailey quickly said. "She said she would fire me if I didn't..."

"That was my first assumption as well," Ms. Cronin agreed, now slowly placing printouts of inner office memos in front of Bailey; the chain showing clearly that Bailey was the aggressor.

"You, you had no right; those, those are personal, private com..." Bailey protested.

"It is our computer; we have every right," Ms. Cronin stated, voice flat, devoid of emotion.

She tapped one of the memos; Bailey could feel her lunch clawing upward toward her throat. Ms. Cronin did not flinch, did not look away from Bailey's pale and sweaty face.

"So you've always had a thin for blondes? Nothing is sweeter than a blonde's hot pussy?" Ms. Cronin asked and did not react as Bailey turned and vomited heartily into the wastebasket in the corner of the office.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"Free at last, free at last; thank God almighty, free at last," Toby smiled as the elevator doors slid shut as Bailey screamed at him from their apartment door.

Her. Her apartment door. After all, hers was the only name on the lease. Hers was the only name on the gas bill, the water bill, the electric bill and the wifi. She had insisted on that, on being an 'independent woman.' As the steel box noiselessly slid downward, Toby used his cell phone to remove himself from any and all obligations to one Bailey Dietor.

"And there you go; you can have it," Toby said, stepping out of the elevator into the first level of the underground parking deck. He kept his hand on his.38 as he approached his truck.

"Hello?" a sweet voice answered on the second ring.

"Hey, I've been ordered to sleep on the couch," Toby smiled as her sweet voice filled the cab of his Toyota Tundra.

"And I've got this nice leather couch just sitting here, all lonely," she agreed, giggling.

"Well then," he said, putting his truck into reverse.

Seventeen minutes later, he used his key to unlock the door of her apartment. Stepping into the living room, lighted only by a few flickering candles, he smiled as he saw the waitress, pale blonde hair and pale skin illuminated by the candlelight. The nude woman approached him, her blue eyes alive with happiness.

"Oh Sweetheart," she cooed as he embraced her.

"Do I really have to sleep on the couch tonight?" he whispered into her ear as his fingers kneaded her sweet buttocks.

"No," she giggled. "But I do love making love on it."

Sixty nine was impractical; Toby was six feet, two inches and Dominque was five feet in height. SO, she pressed her wet blonde muff to his face while slowly stroking his thick cock with her small hands. After he licked and fingered her to a squealing, grunting, thrashing orgasm, Dominque wiggled forward and sucked him down her throat until her nose was firmly pressed into his scrotum. Happily humming some obscure love song, Dominque slowly bobbed her head up and down the length of his manhood. She squealed deep in her throat as his finger pressed firmly against her anus.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh God," she groaned, his cock muffling her words as his thick finger entered her rectum.

She swallowed his thick spurts of semen, humming happily. They cuddled in each other's arms on the buttery soft leather couch, whispering words of love to one another. When Toby's cock was once more standing proud, she lay back on the warm leather cushions and encouraged him to make love to her.

"By the way," she said as they carefully blew out all of the candles. "I, I still can't believe she never noticed you'd moved all of your stuff out."

"No," Toby agreed, making sure the front door of the apartment was securely locked. "But, it was all my stuff. Now, if I had moved her precious Barragona or her ugly ass Ingalls bags?"

"So, this. This is it? This, you, you're really here?" she asked, pulling him to lie on the small bed next to her.

"I'm really here. Right where I want, right where I need to be," he assured her, slipping his third erection into her swampy pussy.

"By the way," she groaned. "Pure genius; using her credit card to pay for that meal. I almost laughed out loud when she ordered the oysters; even after that bottle of wine."

"You know what? I, I'm tired of doing all the work," he said, twisting so that she was astride him. "You, you fuck me, okay?"

"Oh, I'll fuck you. I'll fuck you all right," she growled, beginning to bounce vigorously on him.

The next morning, after taking far too long to shower together, draining all the hot water from the apartment's miniscule water tank, Toby and Dominque met with Gail Severn of Gold Standard Real Estate and completed the paperwork for Unit 202 of the Mountain Range Condominiums. Keys in hand, the two entered their new home, gazing around in wonder at the Italian marble tile floors, the floor to ceiling windows, the glorious fireplace. They gasped, enthralled at the western view from their windows, looking down at the city of Benhurst, Colorado sprawled out below them. Then, while Dominique leaned against the living room window, large breasts mashed flat against the cold glass, Toby bent and thrust himself into her very wet and willing pussy. They knew that the windows were tinted; no one could see in, but they still thrilled in the naughtiness of fucking in an open room, up against an uncovered window with an entire city looking up at them.

Three days after being banished to the couch, Toby and the three hired men entered his former apartment an hour after Bailey had left for her job and took all of his furniture. His living room couch and recliner went into the third bedroom; he and Dominque had designated this room as the man cave/home office, the second bedroom, the guest bedroom was where her small bed and bedroom furniture went until they were ready to turn the room into their nursery, and his somewhat ugly table, chairs and matching bar stools would be going to Conway's Consignment Shop on Turlington Drive.

Out of the desk drawer in his new man cave/home office, Toby dug a large envelope from the bottom drawer. He did not open it; he knew what the envelope contained. But when he'd seen the pictures, heard the audio, Toby had immediately ceased contributing his paycheck to their joint account.

"Surprising how much you can save when you quit paying for someone else to use you," he muttered to himself, leaving the office.

Standing nude in their newly furnished living room, Dominique encouraged Toby to hurry back. Smiling sweetly, she plunged two fingers into her blonde muff then slowly sucked her fingers clean of their combined juices. Toby promised he would be back as soon as he could. She giggled as he tried to readjust his rampant erection in his trousers.

The beautiful red head sitting at the front desk promised to deliver the envelope to Ms. Cronin and Toby wished the young lady a good day. As he walked to his truck, Toby did think to himself that Regina, the red headed receptionist did not seem to be all boobs and no brains, as Bailey had stated more than once. Nor did the young lady seem to be an incompetent bitch.