It was Friday evening and to be expected the bar was crowded. Two blondes with the strained look that childless women appear to inherit from their divorce, eyed the unshaven guy in blue, noting a soft smile, curly dark hair and green oh so green eyes.
They whispered, looking at him. Brent thought of winking at them but that could be misinterpreted. His firm rule was to never pick up a woman in a bar.
Before he made his pitch he preferred to know the woman’s name, a little of her background and if possible to have her recommended to him. That took care of basic screening, although sometimes he’d found himself landed with a neurotic female or one who cried too easily or drank excessively or who’d lied she liked sex. Still even then he was better off than careless guys who married such women to remain with their folly.
Those two dyed blondes in overly-tight bras has cheered him, reminding him that some women still found him interesting enough to look at him speculatively, perhaps wondering what they were missing. Anna, his woman friend of four months, had just dumped him so Brent was feeling a little down. When about to leave he asked the server what the two blondes were drinking and ordered two drinks and paid the bartender. He left without knowing if the bartender would pocket the money or the arrival of the drinks would surprise the women, erasing if only momentarily some of the light despair from their faces.
Brent, who was thirty-four, had just arrived in the city, having moved on because he’d not wished to bump into Anna again. He’d come close to wondering whether she was the one when she’d confessed she’d met someone else and must severe ties with Brent. Christ the guy was her boss and married.
The IT consultant signed into a smart-looking rooming house for a week. That would give him time to look around to determine whether Highbanks City appeared right for him to drop anchor. He was cashed up pretty well so didn’t have to find work in a hurry.
Meg Struthers looked at the signature on the guest register.
“Thank you Mr Bayer but you have not put down a forwarding address.”
“That’s because the only address I have right now is these premises.”
Meg said he must have a base or next of kin but Brent just stood and said nothing and she gave up and said did he want a room or a mini-suite.
“You mean a room with toilet and shower?”
“Yes but no cooking facilities of course.”
“Right, a mini-suite with a gorgeous view.”
Meg laughed and said he had to be joking. The only views available were of other buildings.
“What about a view across the street?”
“Those are premium mini-suites.”
“Then one of those if one is available please.”
“Very well,” Meg said.
The extra charge over a standard brick wall view was only thirty bucks a night and Brent thought that was good value.
Meg took Brent to his room and facing the street said Mrs Locke was on the left and Mr Cousins was on the other side. “Mr Cousins is a visiting IRS inspector, a very important man.”
“Oh yeah. And Mrs Locke?”
“She is having a trial separation from her husband who is an Assistant District Attorney. I think he should have vacated the house, not her don’t you think? Mrs Locke is such a lovely woman and came from an excellent family. He husband went to some third-rate law school and had to work at nights because his family couldn’t afford all the fees.”
“So that makes Mrs Locke coming from a better family a more superior person?”
“Oh did I give that impression?”
Brent grinned to avoid Mrs Struthers taking exception at his cutting comment.
At 7:00 Brent left his room to go out to dinner when the door on his right opened and out came an attractive woman who looked in her mid-thirties.
“Good evening,” Brent smiled.
She replied stiffly, “Good evening.”
“May I take you to dinner?”
“Oh please excuse me. I’m Brent Bayer, newly arrived. I thought you appeared to be on your own and might like to be taken to dinner?”
“I really don’t think…”
“I wish to talk to someone about this city; I know nothing about it..”
Mrs Locke patted her chest for some reason, drawing Brent’s attention to her physical attributes. He’d noticed both of them as soon as he’d seen her a minute earlier.
“Well I don’t know you.”
“That puts us on a par, doesn’t it?”
“Well yes, you certainly don’t know me and this could change your mind; I’m a married woman.”
“Oh excellent. That means I’m safe from molestation.”
He grinned and she saw his expression and said, “Well you are a breath of fresh air.”
They sat at the bar and exchanged personal details. She said she was thirty.
Instead of saying liar, Brent said he’d thought she looked younger than that.
“Oh did I say thirty? My mistake. I turn thirty-six late in the year.”
“God even so you hold your age well. You face is unlined apart from crow’s feet and your breasts look deliciously shaped and supple.”
Mrs Locke attempted unsuccessfully to hide her panic and that made Brent think it was timely to strike.
“After we finish here shall we have a nightcap in my room?”
“I better leave.”
“Wait, there’s no rush. You haven’t even told me your first name.”
“Oh great name. I did introduce myself as Brent but you haven’t used it yet. Would you like another cocktail?”
Priscilla looked at the doorway and then back to Brent and caught his charming seductive smile, although she might have thought it was just a nice smile.
“Er yes, I’d like that thank you Brent.”
Two hours later Priscilla lay on Brent’s bed watching him undo her front-buttoned dress.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He smiled reassuringly and said it was because they probably had a kindred spirit and accepted they had been drawn together.
“Those are lovely words.”
“Do you have a lovely cunt Priscilla?”
Her eyes reflected her alarm.
“Easy Priscilla, it’s how a seducer should talk to a lady in waiting like you.”
“A… a lady in waiting?”
“Yes you are a lady waiting to be properly fucked.”
“Ohmigod, what’s happening here?” she asked, as Brent spread the two sides of the dress opened and sniffed over her pussy.
“A classical seduction I should think. Or how would you describe it?”
“I… I can’t say, not having been in this situation before, at least not like this.”
“Oh how wonderful for you, the chance to absorb a new and uplifting experience.”
“It’s one of the reasons why we have sex isn’t it,” Brent said, pulling down the panties and aware Priscilla was cooperative and lifting her butt.
“I… I haven’t have s-sex for quite sometime.”
“Ohmigod,” Brent said smoothly. “For the first time in my adult life I’ve met someone who needs it more than I do.”
“Do I?” Priscilla said and sounding confused.
Brent was delighted to hear that tone of uncertainty.
“Spread your legs sweet lady and let me see what you’ve got.”
“Oh god, I can’t do this,” Priscilla said, opening her legs to expose a fat juicy pussy that almost had Brent choking in lust.
“Are… are you out to have sex with me?”
“Yes Priscilla,” Brent said, leaning on to her and peering at her face ready to kiss her. “If you have objection please rise and leave.”
“You’re over me.”
Brent kissed her well-shaped lips, their teeth colliding because she’d not had time to close her mouth.
“Oh yes I am over you. That’s okay isn’t it?”
“I suppose so. Um another kiss please and you may get my breasts out and kiss them.”
At that point Brent knew he was as good as in and she would know that as well.
Although she’d said she’d hadn’t had sex for quite some time it was obvious she was still trimming her bush so had been waiting optimistically and here she was, getting what she wanted.
Her confidence had rekindled. “You haven’t said if you like the look of my pussy.”
“It is an object of art and looks far too small for me to get into.”
“Oh that’s unlikely. My husband Garry is pretty big in that department and had no problem penetrating me but of course that bastard is now having sex with his PA.”
“Is his PA female?”
“Yes of course.”
Working up the nipples, tweaking them softly and blowing on them, Brent asked, “What has she got that you haven’t?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing but I guess she does anal. Garry was always pestering me to allow him to sodomize me but I refused.”
“Because I thought it would feel like a violation.”
“But what if a cock stroking you anally took you to new heights of sexual sensitivity?”
“It wouldn’t. It would hurt me terrible. That hole is meant for crapping.”
“Then what is this hole meant for?” Brent said, pushing a finger in.
“God do you have to be so litigious?” Esther said, panting slightly.
That ended that topic.
Brent stepped back and pulled off his jacket and polo and then his pants and briefs.
“Ohmigod, that looks big. Fortunately my pussy is flexible.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, why don’t you push it against my pussy and find out?”
Brent had the invitation he needed.
“This is your idea,” he said, pushing in.
Brent was up to his balls and Priscilla was gurgling, quite forgetting what she’d been about to say.
Sometime during the night Priscilla left the sofa and tottered off to her suite, carrying her clothes and stepping over Brent who was curled up on the floor asleep.
* * *
Perhaps surprisingly and it certainly was to the both of them, that night of lust was not the end of it. When they met next afternoon on the mid-landing of the stairs, instead of nodding to each other indifferently something rather deep triggered.
Priscilla’s breath caught and her nipples began hardening and her heart swelled simply because never had she been so beautifully and utterly seduced as she had been the previous night, half the night apparently. She’d been there but caught in wave after wave of bliss her focus had been somewhat astray. One could say she’d been swept away. Smiling at him now her knees almost buckled.
Brent was a guy that outwardly appeared turned by indifference to stone. Oh yeah? Then why were his eyes fixed on her, his dick inflating slightly and feeling as if it were reaching out for her, his heartbeat had lost its rhythm and a flood of affection filtered throughout him? Fucking unbelievable, he thought. Was this what it was like when a guy found himself really caring about a woman? He didn’t stop to analyze that.
Instead Brent took Priscilla in a gentle hug and kissed her tenderly.
Her eyes bulged as if in unexpected shock and then they closed.
Their landlady Mrs Struthers carrying a load of fresh linen up the stairs wheezed, “Good afternoon you two. I see you have met.”
The couple broke out of their kiss but not the hug.
“Meg it’s such a lovely day,” breathed Priscilla, unaware outside rain threatened and the breeze came with a little bite.
“Um this is my neighbor,” Brent said stupidly.
“Thanks for that confirmation Mr Bayer,” Meg smiled, continuing up the stairs. She was probably thinking how lovely it was seeing happy lovers because these days most of them appeared ready to snarl at each other.
“Come out for coffee,” Brent said, ending the next deep kiss.
“That would be lovely,” Priscilla said dreamily though aware she was just returning from being out for coffee.
They spent four to six hours in bed together for the next four nights and then Garry Locke called Priscilla home and off went his wife dutifully, leaving a note for Brent who was out looking for a job. He read the beautifully phrased note and became aware he’d lost something precious in life. Unfortunately for him another of his prime rules on behavior with women was to try to avoid damaging marital relationships irreparably, believe that phrasing gave him considerable latitude but made him feel honorable, er, to a degree.
That rule applied to most of Brent’s relationships because he’d long learned that relationships with married women were usually more stable than playing with unmarried or divorced females. Married women regarded their incursion into adultery as tiny relief from almost monotonous domesticity whereas single women over thirty or divorcees had intense focus on possible marriage or a long relationship that seem to dominate their minds after the first encounter or two of concupiscence.
Brent knew that because of that rule he must refrain from chasing after Priscilla to woo her.
At the end of the week Brent left Meg’s rooming house to a similar establishment, although not as nice, to make it more difficult for Priscilla to find him should she attempt that. Actually he thought was unnecessary because Priscilla was the kind of person to have the moral fiber to make her marriage work provided that possibility remained valid.
Never before had Brent experienced this feeling of emptiness, at least not to this extent. He’d had a past full of broken relationships, only a few endings he’d initiated. What was different in this instance was he was almost grieving the loss of Priscilla as a person. She was such a delightful and wholesome woman.
* * *
Writing her goodbye lover note to Brent, Priscilla’s tears trickling over her cheeks had to be dabbed because she didn’t want them marking the notepaper that was a page torn from the pad she carried in her handbag to note important things and reminders. Evidence of tears would indicate she cared for Brent and under the circumstances that just would not do. Garry had grunted when he called, “I’ve dumped her. I want you back to attempt a reconciliation.”
“Are you sure?” she asked and he’d said definitely and she asked when. He replied to be home when he arrived that evening and she said all right, attempting to keep her emotions in check, including in her speech.
He then became emotional and sounded contrite when lying, “I hadn’t meant to do this to you. However he’d told the truth when adding, “I have been such a fool and have wronged you.”
He’d waited for her to reply. All she said, quite coolly was, “Bye Garry” and cut the call. She re-read the note and then clutching it to her chest, wept.
‘Darling Brent. I’ve not called you darling before but had often wanted to say it. Garry my husband has called saying he has finished with that other woman and wants me back home. I’m sorry Brent but feel it’s my duty to join him to attempt to repair our marriage. Never in my life have I met a man quite like you and given myself so totally to him and shall never forget our time together. I like to think it was meant to happen. You pulled me out of gathering depression and made life matter to me again my darling. Forever in your debt, Priscilla.
PS Never have I had a guy say he loves my pussy like you have, not that I’ve had many men in my life. Goodbye P.’
Garry who was thickset and hairy and in need of his daily second shave, bounced in smiling and clutching flowers and chocolates. He knew she didn’t eat chocolates and Priscilla thought uncharitably that he was used to buying them for that bitch he’d been with. She accepted the flowers and chocolates and then kissed him, not putting down the gifts to prevent him moving in closely so the kiss was brief.
“What’s for dinner?”
“I only arrived a short time ago,” she said honestly. Since arriving she’d been looking for signs of that bitch but had found nothing, not that she’d be telling the fornicator about her search.
Garry looked disappointed and then brightened, “I’ll get take-outs.”
“I’d like to go to a restaurant please, one where you’ve not taken her.”
He lost his smile. “Darling let’s have a complete truce. I suggest neither of us mentions her or her existence again. She no longer works for me.”
“Very well. Go shower and shave and don’t procrastinate. I’m hungry.”
Garry was shocked, not use to her talking to him as if he were an object rather than her loving husband. He hurried off.
They had sex later that night. It was okay, quite normal in fact. It was better than done almost mechanically but there were not soft murmurs from him, or delightful caressing and looking into shiny, quite liquid looking green eyes. Garry’s eyes were the usual cold brown and he sweated excessively and grunted like an animal. Deep down she cried out that she didn’t like this but shut that off by wondering if he were thinking no anal tonight or any night and for the first time she smiled, a lightly triumphant smile. She’d not hurt him but liked the possibility of him feeling hurt that anal would be denied him. He might wander again of course but surely not for that sole reason?
Garry fired over her stomach and she then went to the bathroom, he calling, “Aren’t you going to spread my cum over your tits and suck up some of it?”
“No Garry, I don’t do that any more.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I really don’t know Garry. Please excuse me.”
“You are shutting the door. I like to hear you tinkling.”
Priscilla closed the door without replying, quite astonished with herself. What had happened to meek Priscilla? Heavens, she was standing up to him, imposing some of her preferences and she’d not even planned to do this. Could she keep this up? Was she seeking to retrain Garry or to drive him incrementally away from her, permanently? She had no idea and these questions confused her. God what was happening here?
The doe-eyed consultant at the Job Search Agency wore a wedding ring. The swept back dark hair, her breasts moving to capture Brent gaze as nature meant them to do, well at least that was how he thought.
“Well Mr um…”
“Yes of course. What can I do for you?”
“First does this agency have a rule about its personnel dating clients?”
Mrs Strong eyed him carefully and said yes, slowly, and eyed the door, But as they were in a largely glassed booth Brent didn’t think she was serious about running.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well I’m new in this city and don’t know anyone apart from two landladies and one married woman.”
“I’m married Mr Bayer.”
“I noticed the ring. All I was going to suggest was to meet for a drink and thought if we agreed before I really became your client then we would not be breaking a house rule.”
“Just say yes pro-forma and confirm one way or the other later.”
“Mr Bayer this really is ridiculous.”
“Go on, say it. Play the game.”
Mrs Strong smiled and said, “Yes, pro-forma. Now to business, do you wish to register as a client?”
“Yes please. Call me Brent Mrs Strong.”
“Excellent and please call me Angela.”
An hour later, after lodging his CV (Angela transferred it off the memory stick Brent had handed her), signing on and paying the fee Brett stood to leave with three job vacancies of possible interest to him.
“Bye Angela and thanks.”
“Thank you Brent. You were a pleasure to deal with. I finish here at 4:00 today and will be waiting for you. Only a drink mind you.”
“What else is there?” he grinned. “Thanks Angela.”
Brent was aware the two fastest ways to assimilate into a new community were to find a good job with a company that engaged quality people and to date women who would invariably introduce him to other women. He would of course also meet guys at the workplace and at the gym. The key was be proactive and things would happen.
He’d chosen IT jobs available at a bank, an insurance company and at an IT consultancy and back in his rooming house collected his laptop and Starbucks card and went out for coffee and to work on the Internet, bringing up the pages of those three prospective employers. The bank appealed best because it would have quality women working for it, heaps of them in larger branches, but the downside was as an employer they were institutionalized. The insurance company sounded like the job was over-expecting and under-paying and so it was the IT consultancy that attracted Brent, as he’d thought it would. The downside was it employed only fourteen people. Oh well. He called for an interview and was pleased to be invited to lunch, the owner appearing surprised to learn of Brent’s experience and that he was immediately available.
“Look up my CV on Action Job Search’s website using your password. My consultant was Mrs Strong.”
“Thanks,” Tony Young said. “Angela has already called me about you. She’s my daughter-in-law. I’m interested that you have called us first. Here’s the address of Barry’s Chicken and Steakhouse. I’ll bring my daughter who manages the office.”
After lunch Brent went to the office with jovial Tony and his watchful married daughter Annette whom Brent thought appeared to be overly religious in insisting on saying grace before they ate (she did so with eyes shut and Tony looked at Brent and winked).
Brent had been surprised to find on the Internet the company’s office was on Vincent Avenue, a main thoroughfare, and at street level as well. Usually IT businesses were back street operations and up at least one floor to take advantage of lower rentals.
As they walked Annette said, “Do you have any children Brent?”
“I’m not married.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Annette,” said her father.
“It’s okay Tony. The only answer I can give is no offspring have been ascribed to me to my knowledge.”
Tony chuckled and Annette remained expressionless.
“Do you have children Annette?”
“Yes, and thank you for inquiring. A girl and a boy, both in third and second grade.”
They walked on in silence until Annette said, “We cross here.”
Looking at the very prominent electronics store painted yellow, Brent said. “This is very enterprising integrating retail-servicing-consultancy into the one business. I understand the vacancy is for the fourth consultant?”
“Correct,” said Annette, appearing pleased that the application appeared to have at least half a brain. “As you were told over lunch we’d lost our anchor consultant, someone to make the hard calls, to supervise, to do the trouble-shooting and up-skill existing consultants. You appear to fit those specifications.”
Two hours later Brent left with a job, a salary almost 15% higher that his last job working for a very large company and he’d been amazed at the profitability disclosures because many people in computer retail were under pressure financially because of price-cutting. It was the consultancy side, of course, that was underpinning the operation financially and he was been paid very well to keep the consultancy work cracking alone. Annette had said, if he failed to do that he’d be fired.
“Annette!” said her father sharply.
Well yes, well deserved. There was no need for the bitch to state the obvious. Brent looked at Tony and winked. Tony said Brent’s contract would be ready to peruse next day and he was free to consult an attorney about it.
“Keep it simple and there’d be no need to do that,” Brent smiled and smiled again when Tony said, “Did you hear that Annette?”
As they were leaving Tony said, “Annette was impressed by your professionalism and the ease with which you handled her queries and she was ever so impressed you inquired about her having children.”
So it would appear Annette was not quite the person Brent imagined she was. It never ceased to amaze him how women liked to play their fucking useless mind-bending games.
Brett waited outside the job search agency, having arrived a few minutes early, and beamed at Angela as she came out, fussing with her handbag although looking at him. She was a bit agitated and said, “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Behavioral patterns are open to stimulated change.”
“I was suggesting we are not required to think and act with rational fidelity.”
“It’s just a word Angela,” Brent soothed, wondering why the hell had he used that particular word to an obviously nervous and married woman. Quickly he said, “Take us to a bar where you will feel you can relax.”
“There’s nothing improper about going for a drink with a friend, however new or casual that friendship is.”
“Right on Angela, that’s exactly my thinking. Have you had a productive day?”
“Yes and that includes being associated with you. Annette Snyder called to advise she expects you will be signing a contract with them tomorrow. That was speedily achieved.”
“Well they want me; um they need me.”
Angela said, “I still don’t think I should be doing this.”
Brent slowed and taking her arm above the elbow steered her to the side of the sidewalk. “Angela, the decision is yours. Make that decision now.”
He looked at her and maintained that gaze when she looked at him.
“Come on,” she said. We turn round this corner and the bar is two intersections away. I know what this is about you know.”
“What is this about Angela?”
“But you don’t wish to tell me?”
She continued to try to justify her decision to be involved with him. “I’m only going for a drink.”
“Yes I know. So am I.”
* * *
Ninety minutes later Angela said, “Did you really think I’d come back to this pokey room with you?”
“You want the truth?”
“I thought there was a 60% chance you wouldn’t. What influenced you?”
“Your incredible luck for one thing. My husband is away at an intense training school and has been away for two weeks and I’m lonely and well…”
“You are missing sex?”
“Yes although I know he’ll be home on Saturday and almost three weeks apart is no reason to become a slut.”
“That’s putting yourself down but let’s skip that. So it’s obviously I didn’t unduly influence you,” Brent said easily, taking her into his arms and kissing her. Angela kissed him back passionately and pressed her crotch against Brett’s thigh.
When they pulled apart slightly she continued, “You talked so smoothly to me, focused on me utterly, and I considered I was coming under the spell of an artful seducer. I felt pleased rather than repelled about that and that surprised me.
Brent chose not to become involved in that ramble. “Rub your crotch up and down my leg a little.”
“Because it will tell me you’ll have sex with me.”
“Aren’t you going to ask have I committed adultery before?”
“Of course not.”
It was almost imperceptible, a tiny movement of her crotch. But through his arms Brent could feel the muscular movement of Angela’s body. He knew to remain still, doing nothing more although knowing hauling a breast out would probably send her crotch sliding up and down vigorously. In her nervous state it was necessary for Angela to feel comfortable about this and to go at her own speed.
She moved a bit more obviously and said, not whispering, “Can you feel my cunt against your thigh.”
“Yes and it feels good. Call it pussy if you wish; I’m comfortable with both terms.”
“I think of it as my cunt in moments like this so am comfortable with calling it that. I suppose you find most of your women hate the C-word.”
“Some women do say that. I blame their mother’s uptight influence.”
Angela giggled and pulled out a tit for him and said, “Here you are hotdog. May I feel it?”
“Sure, go right ahead, unzip and get it out if you wish.”
Brent stood beside the bed, two fingers up Angela’s cunt, she keeping relaxed and with her well-spread legs hanging over the bed. She was a little flushed and breathing heavily. All this told Brent she was experienced and probably had been with other men.
He pulled out his dripping fingers and wiped them on his erection. Her eyes widened from watching that.
“Is it okay to proceed?”
She swallowed and asked slightly throatily what about a condom.
“I don’t require it but if…”
“No I feel confident about you but I know that’s a stupid thought but let’s get into it. Here allow me to steer it in for you.”
Visitors were required to leave the premises at 10:00 and so Brent escorted Angela out at 10:20 and waved down a cab.
He kissed her and said, “Tomorrow night for more of that same? But after the first session we go out to dinner.”
“Sounds lovely. My answer is a big yes. God that was wonderful.”
“You’re a great woman Angela and really know how to use your cunt.”
She looked pleased and kissed him and entered the cab and waved back at him.
Jesus she was a great fuck, in some ways better than Priscilla. Oh he was such a lucky boy.
* * *
Two weeks after Angela was lost to Brent on the return home of her husband, he was called to consult the financial controller of a firm of public accountants set to upgrade its computer hardware. It used a proprietary software system that was fully supported by the supplier.
Mrs Rhodes was perhaps forty, a little chubby with huge tits and Brent would have overlooked her completely had she not stopped in her tracks when coming out to reception to greet him. Her expression when looking at him, he thought was, ‘Holy shit, look what I’ve got.”
“Of course he had no idea; she could be thinking he reminded her of a younger brother killed by a torpedo or whatever Navy mishaps snuffs out guys these days when no sea battles are raging or perhaps of a photograph of her father when he was around Brent’s age. And then her tongue ran over her top lip.
Well, well Brent thought and wondered about burying his dick between those big hangers.
Mrs Rhodes’s husband was in hospital with a cracked pelvis and two broken femurs suffered when hit by the protective bumper of a runaway skip in the car park of an industrial plant where he was director of operations.
And so Mrs Rhode’s needed male comfort and within hours had decided to nail Brent.
He had no objection and had dinner at her apartment almost every night for almost three months until Mr Rhodes was due home on his walking frame. She visited Brent, now living in a quite luxurious small rented apartment for two more weeks before her husband was competently satisfying her sexual appetite. Then it was goodbye Brent.
Priscilla and Garry combined in a determined effort to repair their marriage but both were aware the marriage had lost some of its central core, partly because the harm done when Garry took up with his PA had dented Priscilla’s respect for him while in his mind Priscilla had turned into a cold bitch and was just using him for convenience and to keep up appearances.
They openly discussed progress in re-establishing marital stability and while they kept calm initially, gradually they began to bicker about it and after each fight Garry knew that meant at least two nights without sex.
Priscilla knew he’d regard that as punishment and it did serve to remove most of the fire out of their bickering. She knew their marriage was over and fretted wondering why they didn’t have the courage to make that declaration. Her only reason was she didn’t want her friends to know she and Garry were splitting, permanently.
Fortunately Garry provided the catalyst for them to have an all-out fight.
Priscilla was suspicious Garry was having an affair because he was going out more at nights and coming home late.
One night Garry came home drunk with a scratch mark across a cheek. He’d said he’d hit his face on the car door but Priscilla thought she knew a finger scratch when she saw one and angrily chided him for driving drunk.
He of course denied he was drunk.
“Then why are you swaying?”
“Because it’s windy.”
“We are inside the house you stupid man.”
“Don’t talk to me like that bitch.”
“Fuck you Garry. I’m off to bed.”
Priscilla awoke latter to find Garry had a finger up her butt.
“What the hell are you doing,” she cried, pulling away.
“It’s okay, my finger is lubed,” he slurred. “Look it’s time I introduced you to anal fucking.”
“You fucking drunk idiot,” she screeched, and jumped out of bed, straightening her night dress.”
Garry stumbled from the bed and slapped her, yelling at her not to call him an idiot.
Priscilla kneed him heavily and stepping over her doubled-up moaning husband, left and booked into a hotel. She had heaps of money and that was why she didn’t work.
The next day she called Garry at his office. He attempted to apologize and she told him to forget it. She said she wanted a divorce and they agreed Garry should get his attorney to get it underway. He agreed to shift out of the house into a hotel suite with Priscilla agreeing to pay half the cost the suite but she was not to pay for anything else.
When the application for the annulment of their marriage was underway, at the conference with both of their attorneys on the agreement of settlement they decided to put the house up for sale immediately and to split net sale proceeds evenly.
Priscilla and Garry had agreed to leave everything in the house undisturbed until after they had a sale. When the sale went unconditional she stayed away the next Saturday from 10:00 to 4:00 with everything of their joint possessions she wished to keep tagged and Garry came in and tagged the things he wished to keep and others he thought they should sell. They reached agreement on the phone, with less than two dozen items under joint claim, and when they reached final agreement, the following week Priscilla had packers in and they packed all of Garry’s possessions and stored the boxes and crates in the garage and took all of Priscilla’s away to store at their depot. She then called in three pre-used furniture and possessions resellers in to quote on everything else left and accepted the offer of the highest bidder and those items were cleared next day.
With the bed gone along with everything else Priscilla vacated and called Garry to move out his possessions in the garage and said, “Goodbye Garry.”
“Goodbye Priscilla, it’s been nice knowing you. Will we remain friends””
“I would think so,” she said, cutting the call and muttered, “Preferably distant friends.”
Although it would be another four months at the earliest before their marriage officially ended, Priscilla decided to be proactive. She didn’t wash to be idle in a hotel all day and night. She’d already purchased a house and with the cooperation of the outgoing owners already had interior décor consultants in to recommend changes along the lines she’d suggested and also a firm of landscapers to assess improvements.
Those proposals were now available and she worked in with the designers, agreeing the swimming pool should be filled in and the games room be extended to include an indoor lap pool and spa and side access to a new outdoor entertainment area that would be sheltered by the house from the prevailing wind.
Most of the interior improvements were as she’d wanted and she accepted the recommendation that the fittings and appliances in both the master bedroom bathroom suite and in the kitchen should be on-sold and both rooms remodeled with new fittings and appliances.
That excited Priscilla thinking to some extent she’d be shifting into a new home without having to go out into the suburbs to find one. This home was within half a mile from the CBD beside the lake and she’s paid through the nose to acquire such a premium site. She had the money to be extravagant. Her parents had been killed in an aircraft accident attributed to airline negligence and she’d received a huge payout on that as well as selling her parent’s home and her father’s business. Everything had been split down the middle with her brother who had a half-share in a winery in Spain where he worked and lived with his family, having married his senior partner’s daughter.
While waiting to take possession of her new home to allow renovations to begin, Priscilla turned her attention to her other pressing interest, Brent. She had seen him three times, once only a fortnight ago when driving through the city so knew he was still in the city. Perhaps he had a live-in woman, perhaps not.
Remembering he’d previously worked as a computer consultant, Priscilla turned to the Yellow Pages and found just over a dozen listings and worked through them, each time asking for a consultant named Brent Bayer. A receptionist at one firm said no one of that name worked for them but she believed from exchanges of correspondence a Brent Bayer worked for Yellow Code Computers and Electronics. \
Excitedly, Priscilla called that firm and found Brent did indeed work there. She parked across from the premises from 5:30 to 6:00 next day without sighting him and on the second evening had success, seeing him begin to walk away from the store, heading east. She got out quickly and waved and called, “Brent!”
He saw her and ran to her.
“Oh hi,” he smiled. “Fancy seeing you here?”
Priscilla was kissed and smiled, “I was about to drive away when I saw you.”
She’d decided not to say anything about tracking him down to avoid him thinking she was desperate or whatever other interpretation he might reach.
“Wow, just chance eh after all these months?”
“Well you look lovely and not stressed.”
“I’m waiting for my divorce to come through. We tried hard but it just didn’t work and for my part I think I had outgrown him but enough of that. How are you?”
“Fine. Divorce you said?”
“Yes. Look let’s go for a drink. Jump in.”
“Nice wheels,” he said.
” I upgraded my 3-year old BMW to this new sportier model. I just love it. Um, you are free to come for a drink?”
“Sure, I live within walking distance from here,” Brent looked at the driver. “I’m not sure whether this will interest you but I’m not dating anyone at the moment.”
Priscilla flashed all of her teeth at him in a huge smile. “That interests me more than you can imagine. I take it you still fuck?”
He skipped answering that, going straight into it. “Would you like children? Time’s running out for you.”
“Would I what!” screamed Priscilla in delight, working to regain control of the car. “Ohmigod, you’re the man.”
She glanced at Brent who was flashing all of his teeth at her. “Get me pregnant and you can have my ass.”
“Sorry I don’t do anal, apart from the occasional straying little finger when really heated up.”
“Oh darling, are you the man for me!”