Winner Take Nothing

Winner Take Nothing Winner Take Nothing

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance

Summary

I wanted to write a simple piece about two ordinary people. The theme is miscommunication. and its inevitable consequences. Thank you for reading me. DT

Summary

I wanted to write a simple piece about two ordinary people. The theme is miscommunication. and its inevitable consequences. Thank you for reading me. DT

Content

Submitted: April 01, 2016

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: April 01, 2016

A A A

A A A


Winner Take Nothing

Life’s ironic. You live your first years thinking you’re special. Then you spend the rest of it finding out just how ordinary you really are. Naturally, there are people who never got the memo. Those are the guys who spend their entire life as self-important assholes. I kind of envy that sort of ignorance.

The war between our high opinion of ourselves and the actuality of our day-to-day existence might bother some folks. But all it did was turn me into a pragmatist. You know the fable about the pessimist and the half empty glass. Well… to a pragmatist the problem is that the glass isn’t the right size. So we spend our life rightsizing things. 

For instance, I was an average guy. So I didn’t even think about playing basketball. And because I was a nerd I didn’t consider asking the Homecoming Queen to the senior prom. I just did the things that reality dictated.

Mostly I was a face in the crowd. I had things I liked to do. And I did them when I could. But my family was middle-class poor. So my repertoire of fun was limited to the commonplace and cheap. I accepted that.

The only thing that distinguished me was my academic ability. I might not be Einstein. But I could have played him on TV. My problem was that I studied everything. So when I got out of school I was a first class jack-of-all-trades-and-master-of-none.

When I hit the job market, my ever so close-but-not-quite-close-enough qualifications turned out to be a BIG problem. I was on everybody’s short list. But I was never the one they picked.

So I rightsized myself. I found the one career where you have to know a lot. But you really don’t have to know anything in particular. I became an academic.

It took four more years to earn the union card - the PhD. But once I had it I discovered that I was in high demand. And after a number of recruiting visits I ended up working at a State University near Bethpage New York.

Bethpage would be a classic Long Island hamlet if it weren’t for the fact that Leroy Grumman founded a little company there; where he built “Cats” for the Navy.

Construction of the last of that distinguish series, the “Tomcat”, was shut down in 1991. But a bit of the wild-blue-yonder spirit still lurks in the nooks and crannies.

So, it wasn’t like I was moving to Sleepy Hollow.

I chose Bethpage mainly because it was near work and equally close to the water on both sides of the Island. I’m from Wisconsin and I like to sail. So I kept a 31-foot C&C Corvette Cruiser in a permanent slip at a marina in Oyster Bay.

I was by no means rich. But I was single. And for a change I was making good money. So the banks were willing to provide the financing. Even if, it was a thirty-five-year-old boat.

Everybody has to have at least one vice. And the peace and quiet of Long Island Sound was my drug of choice. I learned my sailing on Lake Michigan. So I am an excellent solo sailor. And the boat gave me the freedom to slip away on the weekends from April to October.

I’d leave right after class on Friday, coast up to Mount Sinai Bay. Then I would lay-up for the night and go the rest of the way around Orient point and down past Gardiners Island on a tack to Montauk. Or close haul off the Northeasterly’s to Block Island. And if I got an early start all the way to the Vineyard.

If the wind was fair my dog Buster and I would arrive in the afternoon Saturday. And then I would proceed to party until the wee hours Saturday night and broad-reach back on Sunday

Have I mentioned Buster? I found him in a Detroit pound. I was living in Ann Arbor at the time. And I wanted a dog. The rest of the dogs were barking at the front of the cage. Only Buster was huddled in the back corner just radiating misery. He was by far the biggest, ugliest, and meanest looking animal in the Pound. And he just KNEW that nobody would want him. I couldn’t help it. My heart went out to the big lug.

Adopting Buster taught me a lesson about God’s creatures. It’s the soul that counts, not the package. There is no sweeter, gentler animal than my dog. He just happens to look like somebody shaved a Grizzly Bear.

He did not take kindly to the sailboat at first - being a former D-Town street dog and all. But he came along anyhow because he’s my buddy. And that’s what buddies do for each other.

NOW, he is slightly more nautical than Admiral Halsey. He sits in the bow, with his battle scarred ears streaming behind, like the pennants on a clipper ship. It’s the equivalent of him sticking his head out the window of a car. And I occasionally have to duck the ropes of drool that come flying back. But Buster makes a memorable figurehead.

Nonetheless, with the exception of my occasional visits to nautical bars, I had the sort of social life you would expect in a place like Bethpage - meaning none.

I could have gone into the City. Or further up the island to some of the trendier places like the Hamptons. But I was too shy and inhibited to strut my stuff at a NYC dance club. And I was nowhere near rich, or preppy enough to fit into the Southampton social scene.

Obviously I had an entire campus full of ripe coeds. And I was only eight to ten years older than most of them. But there is that invisible line between faculty and student that I was not going to cross.

It’s a matter of respect. It’s hard to teach people if you are also fucking some of them.

And, at best the faculty was a dodgy proposition. Most of the academic women were married. And the ones that weren’t tended to be either ugly, gay, or not into shaving.

Sometimes they were all three.

Plus, if the relationship went south with a colleague; thanks to tenure you might be stuck running into the bitch for the next fifty years. So, I’d rather be safe than sorry.

Hence, I survived on the occasional townie and anybody I could scrounge from the local social clubs. I was not into bridge or discussing books but that was what I was reduced to.

Of course the single women who attended those things were a little ethereal to say the least. And being a red blooded American male I quickly found out what, “respect my boundaries” meant.  

Then one late August day everything changed.

I had made tenure a year earlier and been promoted up the next step in the ladder. It was a nice jump in status and pay and I was still only 32. I was at one of those godawful faculty mixers sipping the cheap sherry.

We were welcoming the new hires in what passed for a Common Room in a modern academic building. The predominant theme was linoleum not thick carpets and mahogany.

I was gazing out the window, bored out of my skull. When I heard a warm Australian accent say, “It certainly is stark here isn’t it?”

I turned my head and looked at her. She was relatively short, dark auburn hair and what could be best described as sturdy. She had a pretty, but not beautiful face. It featured big brown eyes and an upturned nose.

But her lips were that caught my attention. She had a wide sensual mouth with perfectly sculptured lips. Movie stars pay a fortune for lips like that. The rest of her looked presentable but unspectacular – run-of-the-mill boobs, hips and legs.

In fact, she was the female equivalent of me. Nobody would turn to look if she entered a room. But nobody would run screaming out of it either. We were just two average people.

Nonetheless, I liked the sparkle in those very intelligent eyes.

I turned to her in the classic conversational pose and said, “Yes it is. The place got a lot of its growth in the 1960s and that was not exactly an era of classic academic architecture.”

The more I looked into her sweet oval face, the better I liked what I saw. I asked, “Are you a new faculty member?”

She smiled. It was a ten-megawatt smile. My thinking hadn’t turned sexual at that point. But it was headed in that direction. I knew that the person inside that average body was somebody I wanted to get to know.

She said, “Yes, don’t you remember me from the interview?”

I had sat-in with a couple of colleagues on a cattle-call of applicants for an open faculty position. But I didn’t remember her.

She said, “It was conducted via Skype. I was at the University of Queensland at the time.”

NOW I remembered her. I was sitting off to one side of the monitor. So I had more-or-less heard her. But I had not seen her close up - at least close enough to recognize her in the flesh. And after all, it WAS 11:00 at night due to the time difference down-under.

Nevertheless, I should have remembered her sexy smoky contra-alto voice. It spoke volumes about her personality. She just sounded so confident and in-control.

I also knew her background. And the one thing that I was sure of was that she was brilliant. Her publication record was better than mine, even though she was younger. And she had already established her reputation at a world-class university.

So I asked the clichéd question, “What is a smart girl like you doing in a place like this??”

I mean Farmingdale isn’t exactly Cambridge, Massachusetts.

She smiled a little embarrassed and said, “I wanted to try someplace different. Preferably on the other side of the world.” I didn’t push it.

I said, “Well then - let me show you one of the many fine dining establishments in this area. It will totally make you forget the nightlife in a backwater like Brisbane.” That was said with an ironic wink since Brisbane is like the Miami Beach of Australia.

She grabbed my arm, spilling my sherry in the process, and said, “Let’s go mate!!!” She sounded like Crocodile Dundee. Do they really talk like that?

I took her to Mr. Beery’s. The place has a bumper sticker pasted on the front of the bar that says, “My Son Banged Your Honor Student’s Math Teacher”. That, and the name alone, ought to tell you everything you need to know about the ambience.

She loved it.

She’s an Australian. So of course she drank beer. It was a Friday. And Mr. Beery’s was rocking. We found a semi quiet place in the back. Nobody noticed us. But of course, there was nothing about either of us to notice, except for the fact that we were both obviously very attracted to each other.

I sat a 22-ounce Brickhouse-21 Club in front of her. She took a big gulp, wiped her mouth with her sleeve and said, “Crikey that’s good.” Then she belched politely.

What a woman!!! I was in love!!!

The more we talked the more those fascinating eyes drew me in. This was a very smart person. But she had a woman’s intelligence, not a man’s.

My nerd friends like to trip the light fantastic when we are joking around over a beer. I hesitate to use the word juvenile. But if the shoe fits wear it. On the other hand, Zoe made insightful and hilarious observations about the local fauna. I got the fact that she was trying to get a handle on the local culture. But her humorous view of her new world was a breath of fresh air.

I was also feeling a subliminal vibe that she was appraising me. It was like she was walking around - and looking me over – like a horse that she was thinking about buying.

Me - I didn’t have to think about it. This was a totally together woman with a pretty face and a sweet little body, whose company I was beginning to crave.

She was definitely NOT a hottie. And talking to her didn’t bring out thoughts of sweaty nights of passion. Instead she brought out comfortable and intimate feelings of comradeship, the joy of genial bantering and the close rapport that you would want in a life’s companion.

In short, she was the kind of person you went with for the long haul.

Very early in the relationship we were finishing each other’s sentences. That was how in synch we were.

I would like to tell you that we went back to my place and fucked like bunnies. But adolescent fantasies don’t really happen for most guys. And it definitely was NOT going to happen with me and Zoe.  

Nonetheless, that evening started a relationship that worked from the beginning. We just wanted to be with each other. It was like it was fated.

I took Zoe out on our first official date two days after we met. I wanted to show off the boat since my house wasn’t exactly a babe lair.

I lived in one of those old blue collar homes that were built around the Grumman plant. It was 1,800 square feet of World War II nostalgia but Buster and I called it home. I got it as a foreclosure. There were a lot of those as the jobs moved to other parts of the country.

She was living in the Extended Stay America on Oyster Bay Road, while she looked for a place. So it was an easy half hour ride over to the boat.

I pulled up outside her hotel. She was already waiting for me in the lobby. She had a look of pure delight on her face. So did I. But for a different reason.

It was hot and sunny for Late August. So she was wearing a modest pair of short white boat shorts and a cute little pink t-shirt with “Hello Pitty” and a picture of a pit bull with a bow next to its left ear - like the Hello Kitty logo.

It captured her perfectly. She was definitely one feisty little bitch.

It was the first time I had seen her outside of a professional setting and I was blown away by her muscular legs, her perfect tight hips and her jutting ass.

I hated to admit it. But she was every stereotype I had about Aussie women.  She is only five four. But underneath that t-shirt she looked strong and fit. She was not so much erotic, as she was athletic. She wasn’t Venus. She was a clean limbed goddesses of the hunt, like Diana.

I must have lingered a little too long appraising her. Because she said with a certain amount of sarcasm, “Like what you see?”

I gave her a melodramatic leer and said, “I sure do.” That got me smacked on the arm. But truthfully, I enjoyed the view very much.

Zoe was definitely not THAT kind of sexy. I’m a guy. I can’t help speculating about any woman and her abilities in bed. But the thought never crossed my mind with Zoe. She simply didn’t see herself that way.

What she saw herself as, was the world’s best companion. She was a woman with perfect empathy for the man she was with. And she was a genius at adjusting herself to their interests.

She chatted amiably for the entire half hour. When we got to the boat she looked up at the almost 40-feet of the mast with awe. She is from Brisbane so you would think that she was used to sailboats. But as I said, Zoe is a nerdette. So, she was a lot more at home in a library than on the bounding main.

Nevertheless, she is agile. So she hopped on board like she was born there. I wanted to get to know her better. Not spend the day sailing. But I took her out into Oyster Bay anyhow - just to show off the boat before I headed for my intended destination.

I raised sail and we did a little tacking back and forth so she could get the experience. My reasons for doing it were simple. I know how ordinary I am. So, I was doing the one thing that I hoped would make me special in her eyes.

I was also trying to gauge how comfortable she was with worldly things. I knew that she had a wide-ranging intellect. But you can’t build a relationship on ideas alone. So I wanted to stretch her a bit just to see how well she took to more physical experiences.

What I discovered was that her well-made little body was a lot nimbler than mine. And she was almost immediately handling the lines like a pro. She might be petite but she was very strong and smart.

And as I suspected, she was exhilarated by the experience.

We pulled around Lloyd Point and lay-in offshore of Caumsett State Park. I got out the boat’s little kayak and paddled us in. It was beautiful and peaceful on the grounds of the old Marshall Field estate and I was planning on walking down the hiking trail until we found a nice spot with a view out over the Sound.

When we did I took off the backpack, spread out a blanket, and broke out the lunch. I also had a good cab and two cheap wine glasses. She sat on the blanket and watched me prepare the feast. We clinked glasses and I said, “Welcome to New York.”

She smiled with real affection and said, “Well if the first week is any indication I am going to love being here.”

I was tired of beating around the bush. There was one important question hanging in the air and it was begging to be asked. I said, “Why did you leave Brisbane? That is one of the most perfect places on earth. And UQ is a lot better institution than the one you are at right now.”

She knew it was coming. And she hated it. I could see it in her eyes. She was lying on her side, facing me, propped up on one arm holding her glass in her other hand. She carefully set it down. Then she drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees and turned to look out over the water. It was a classic defensive posture.

She started in. It was like she was reciting a story, “Charlie and I grew up together in Wavell Heights. It’s a suburb of Brisbane proper. We went all the way from infant school to college as a couple. It was just understood that we would marry.”

I was familiar enough with the Australian education system to know that what they call “college” are the junior and senior years of high school. So they were high school sweethearts.

She grimaced and said, “Except Charlie was into Rugby not academics. So while I went on to university and got my Doctorate he joined the RAN.”

A distinct shadow came over her face. She said, “We were apart a lot after that but I didn’t care. I loved him.

Then she paused, and looked at me. The pain was deeply etched in her huge brown eyes. She said, “I got the letter while I was planning our wedding. He said he was very sorry. But he had gotten married. It was SO like Charlie to do something impulsive like that.”

She laughed bitterly and said, “He said that the Sheila that he married was a much better match for him. I knew what he was talking about. He could never get past how smart I was.”

Then the crying started. She said through her tears, “I was just devastated. I was useless to everybody, my students, my colleagues and even my family. I thought that I knew him. And I couldn’t believe that somebody who I had so utterly trusted could do something so cold and heartless.”

I said as sympathetically as I could, “That’s horrible. I’m very sorry.”

I am not exactly a master of human relations. But there didn’t seem like anything else I could say. I just sat there patting her back sympathetically. But there was a part of me that was also thinking how damaged she must be.

I said, “If this is uncomfortable for you we can stop. I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

She wiped her eyes and looked at me. It was as if she had suddenly discovered something. She said, “No – actually talking with you has made me feel better. I haven’t really talked to anybody about this since it happened.”

I said, “How long ago was that?”

She said, “I got the letter almost exactly a year ago. I started looking to leave Australia right after that. I am only 29 and I wanted a clean break from my past. So I decided to start over in this nice quiet peaceful place.”  

I said, “Well I, for one, am glad that you are here.”

She looked at me fondly and said, “And I’m glad that YOU are here.”

Then she laughed and said, “I’m sorry for acting like a weepy woman.”

I said, “Hey! I’m your friend and that’s what friends are for.”

I was hoping to be a lot more than just a friend. But given Zoe’s history only time would tell.

We cleaned up the picnic stuff and walked a little bit on the scenic hiking trails. Then we paddled back to the boat. And sailed around to Rocky Point where we anchored.

We finished the bottle of wine while we watched the sunset.

It was full dark when I got the docking routine done. Zoe was a superb bosun. We drove back to her place in comfortable silence. It had been a perfect day. We were feeling extra close. And we didn’t want to break the spell.

She didn’t invite me in. And I didn’t ask. There would be a lot of time for that in our future.

Thus, the days rolled on. We spent all of our time together. And she eventually moved in. It wasn’t anything sexual. It was just that she needed a place and I had three bedrooms. So I offered and she accepted.

At that point there was no need to draw up rules. I slept in the downstairs bedroom and she slept in the one upstairs in the dormer. We shared a bathroom but living with Zoe was more like living with a guy. She didn’t use all of the paraphernalia. Basically it was just a toothbrush.

I mean – she used makeup. But she kept that in her room. And at work she kept her luxuriously thick auburn hair in a long easy to maintain ponytail. Around the house she just let it loose down to the middle of her back.

We had a comfortable life together, sharing the household duties and generally enjoying each other’s company. We would hang out in various places during the workweek and sail on the weekends.

It was an idyllic life. Until a couple of months after she moved in.

That Friday morning I asked her what time she wanted to leave for the boat. She said utterly casually, with no hint of anything sinister in her voice, “I can’t go sailing this weekend. I have a date.”

THAT statement dropped on me like a cartoon safe. I said, “Excuse me – did I hear you right? Did you say that you had a date?”

She said absentmindedly, “Yes Anthony Piccardi asked me to go into the City with him. He has tickets for Wicked for tonight.”

My head exploded. Okay, we had never talked about it. But I just assumed we were exclusive. Admittedly I hadn’t tried to seal any deals. But I knew her situation. And given the cataclysmic ending to her last relationship I didn’t want to put any pressure on her.

Then Piccardi just waltzes in and sweeps her off to New York for a weekend of fun and fucking. Unbelievable!!!???

I was trying to keep my voice under control. But I probably sounded like I was choking to death. I said, “How long has THAT been going on?”

She said, conversationally, “Well he has been asking me out since I arrived. I don’t find him that attractive. So I kept turning him down. But I really want to see that show. I’m not sure what HE has in mind but if it’s anything other than dinner and a play he’s going to be disappointed.”

Okay!!! I had to say it!!!

I said, trying to make my voice NOT sound as frantic as I felt, “That guy is the biggest pussy hound on campus. He has had sex with half the staff and large portions of the student body. If he takes you to the City, he is going to expect a lot more than a good night kiss.”

She said laughingly, “Oh, he’ll get a LOT more than that. I’m just not going to give him the whole meal at the first serving. I don’t fuck ANYBODY on a first date.”

Then she walked off toward her room chuckling at the sheer nerve of me thinking that she would put out for anybody. I was left sitting there with my eyes bugged out like Wile E. Coyote, when he suddenly realizes that he has just run off the cliff.

I thought, “MY GOD she is totally oblivious!! She has no idea what she just did to me!”

I didn’t know what to do next. I had never said one word to her about how I felt. How DID I feel??? I knew for sure that I didn’t want her sharing herself with any other man. But I hadn’t told her anything to the contrary. I had treated her like a pal. What was I going to do???!!!”

I could rush upstairs and declare my undying love. But that would be the single wimpiest thing I could think of. Sniveling is just so unmanly in a situation like this.

So I sat there with my heart in my throat as she rattled around preparing to go out on her date. She was actually humming some Australian ditty like it was no big deal.

But it sure-as-fuck was a big deal for me.

I saw it all in a blinding flash of insight. I had a healthy 29-year-old woman living with me. And I had not made a single move on her.

Okay!!! I was aware of her past lover and I was trying to respect her grief. But seriously!!! Two months of walking around here wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and panties and I hadn’t tried to molest her???!!!

Instead of seeing me as her gallant knight-errant, she probably thought I was queer!!!

She came downstairs at that point. I was sitting on the sofa trying to look cool. There was nothing I could do now. That is - without sounding like an insecure weenie. But my nonchalant attitude was a total act. Underneath I was a seething cauldron of undistilled jealousy. 

And she knocked me out.

I had never seen her dressed to kill. My rough-and-ready Aussie boat buddy was wearing a classic little black dress. It was tight enough around her body to show off her narrow waist compact hips and jutting ass. And it was short enough to display her magnificent legs. There was a scooped front with some pearls. Plus, a hint of surprisingly ample cleavage.

But the part that almost stroked me out was the face.

She normally doesn’t wear much makeup. So I had no idea what a beauty she could turn herself into. But she was going into the City so she was firing for effect. She had done those gorgeous eyes. And their impact alone would have been sufficient to pea-green kill me.

But her lips are world-class and she had brought them to the forefront. They are so sexy that even without lipstick they are practically labial. Now - outlined and colored like they were – all I could picture was them contorted in passion as Piccardi entered her.

And to top off my misery she was wearing some kind of exotic perfume that provoked thoughts of passionately beating drums, wildly dancing flames and debauched jungle rituals.

She looked at me with deep affection, did a little turn on her four inch heels and said surprisingly tentatively, “How do I look?”

HOLY SHIT!!!! It was like she was asking a girlfriend.

I was speechless, sitting there with my mouth working like a recently boated tuna-fish. I think she saw the apocalyptic suffering in my eyes. Because she rushed over to me looking very concerned. She said anxiously, “Jonathon, what’s wrong?”

I should have told her!! I absolutely should have told her THEN!! But my stupid pride wouldn’t let me.

I know it’s a cop-out. But the dynamic was all wrong. It’s a guy thing. I just couldn’t wimp-out in front of Piccardi.

So I got it together and told her the absolutely lamest thing imaginable, “Well I was just disappointed that we are not going sailing this weekend.”

She smiled lovingly at me and actually ran an affectionate hand down the side of my face. She said. “There are still a lot of weekends left. We just need to plan better.”

I thought, “PLAN BETTER!!! FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE INTO TOWN ON!!!”

This catastrophe wasn’t caused by bad planning. It was a total communication FUCK-UP. I had made a bunch of stupid assumptions. And I had gotten it all wrong. And now I was forced to sit there while that jackal made-off with the love of my life.

It wasn’t her fault. She obviously had needs and I had treated her like she was my roommate. Well she WAS my roommate, but that was just temporary - until I had worked my way into her affections - and her panties.

How fucking stupid could THAT be???!! This wasn’t a fucking Jane Austen novel.

At that point the doorbell rang. She rushed over to open the door. And there in all of his greasy glory stood Anthony Piccardi. Okay, he was younger, better looking and a little bigger than I was. And he had money. But who’s counting.

He was an absolute nobody on campus, an Assistant Registrar. But his family was rich - probably from prostitution, loan sharking and drugs. But it spent just like everybody else’s.

He gave me his usual condescending sneer and said, “Jonathan my man! How’re they hanging?”

Okay, James Bond he was not.

I was definitely NOT going to fold. I said dryly, “Great dude. How’re they hanging with you?”

He grabbed Zoe around the waist and gave her a leer and said something subtle like, “They’ll be hanging a whole lot better after this evening’s over.”

Then he turned and whisked her out of sight. She blew me a kiss as she was unceremoniously yanked onto the porch.

I got up and closed the door. As I did it I saw the douchebag helping her into his Corvette. The glow from his smirk outshone the streetlights.  

There are moments in your life that you will remember forever. This was one of them.

I was actually surprised that I wasn’t dead on the spot. Every system in my body was at the red-line, blood pressure, heart rate, and I was about to shit myself while I yakked on the living room carpet.

I wandered over to our couch and sat down with my head in my hands. How could I endure the eternity between now and when she got home?

I was going to straighten out this catastrophic misunderstanding as soon as she got back. And it would be in no uncertain terms.

It is one thing to be surprised by the kind of pre-emptive strike that would have made December 7th, 1941 seem like a nice quiet Sunday on Oahu. But it is another to let it happen twice. I was going to make sure that this farce ended the minute she arrived home.

Zoe was a grown-up woman and she had every right to accept an offer to do something fun. I hear that Wicked is a great show – not that I could afford to take her to it. All the same, if she went anywhere with Piccardi again - after I had made it clear how I felt about her. THEN we would know exactly where we were at. And we would go our separate ways.

I couldn’t concentrate as the clock ticked. I paced and tried to read. That was a laugh. I never touched the TV. I just sat there staring off into space - locked in a maelstrom of emotion. The clock ticked some more.  It was getting close to midnight.

They had been gone for over six hours when a cheerful text came in. It said, “Staying in the City. Don’t wait up.”

Oh how fucking wonderful!! They were getting a fucking room!!!

I thought I was suffering before. I wasn’t even in the foothills. It was like my heart was a trailer park and Zoe was the tornado.

Somewhat justifiably - my agony quickly transitioned to rage.

Anger is a primal instinct. It motivates you. But anger is also mindless. So, it is practically guaranteed that the next thing you do will be the stupidest thing conceivable.

I spent a mostly sleepless night staring at the ceiling plotting my vengeance.

If I wasn’t a pussy, I would have just toughed it out until we had our little talk. Instead, I chose to, “Give the slut a dose of her own medicine. Show her how it felt.”

Every subsequent happening in our lives stemmed from that bad choice.

I even realized that I was being infantile. My rational brain told me that it was asinine to try to exact revenge on Zoe. She was just acting like any other normal attractive woman – even if her taste in men was a little tacky.

The fact was. She didn’t have a clue about how I felt about her. And the poor girl must have been as horny as I was.

Nonetheless, my lizard brain told me that I had been totally humiliated. I could see it in Piccardi’s eyes.

You don’t have to point out how childish THAT idea was. Zoe had done nothing to disrespect me except go out on a date with the douchebag. Okay – the choice of date sucked. But he was also the only man who had actually asked her out. That included me.

Even so… I still felt like I had to get my pride back.

So at 8:30 AM sharp I picked up the phone. And I called Alice Whithers. She is the Dean’s secretary.

She is more commonly known as “Alice the Bod.” That was because she has the biggest pair of tits in Nassau County - and a booty that would drive J-Lo and any Kardashian wild with envy.

And Alice had already let it be known that she would meet me any time and any place.

I had never even THOUGHT about taking her up on that offer. In my estimation she was dumber than a box of dildos. And I was pretty sure that I would get better conversation from Buster.

But if my Zoe could spend a sweaty night in a Manhattan hotel with that manslut. I could endure Alice for 24 hours.

She was delighted. I said, “Alice, I’ve been thinking about you. And I was wondering if you would like to sail down to Port Jefferson and party? Come back Sunday night?”

Port Jefferson is the place where the Ferry from Connecticut docks. And it has the kind of funky atmosphere that a girl like Alice would love.  She squealed with joy and said, “What time will you pick me up?” So much for playing coy.

I said, “How about in an hour? Bring something for overnight.”

Okay – the fat was now well-and-truly in the fire. And I was already beginning to doubt my decisions. But I picked her up anyway. She lived in a cheap apartment complex north of town. I knocked on her door and she answered like she had been waiting on the other side.

She was wearing a slightly too tight t-shirt over her monsters – double D at least and maybe a letter further up the alphabet like “M” or “Z”. Her shorts were practically pornographic

She threw her arms around my neck, smashed those huge pillows into my chest, grabbed my thigh between her legs and gave me a kiss that included a lot of tongue.

That was exactly ten seconds into the date. God only knew what the next 23 hours, 59 minutes and 50 seconds would hold.

I un-pried her and said, “Wow!! That was hot!!! Are you ready?”

I wasn’t lying, It WAS hot.

She giggled and said, “Ready for anything big boy.” The meaning of that statement was clear.

The little voice that lives in my head – and who I think might be my mom – smacked her forehead and said. “Oh my God!!! This is SUCH a bad idea!!!”

But I am gallant to a fault. So I manhandled Alice and a roller bag off to the boat. Zoe in contrast, travels with a cloth backpack.

 Alice prattled all the way about things she had read on the internet. That was her version of “being informed.” It was the usual celebrity hokum that I can’t stand.

We got out on the Sound and Alice went into the cabin to change into a bathing suit.

I use that term advisedly because she came out in something that involved two small squares over her jutting nipples and a strategically placed triangle. That was all held in place by strings that looked like dental floss - which the swaying of her massive tits was threatening to break.

It was exhibitionism at its finest. She said gaily, “Can I get some sun?”

I said, “Sure – just spread out a blanket forward.”

I thought, “Thank God I won’t have to talk to her.”

She made her way gingerly along the side of the cabin and up to the foredeck spread a towel and lay down on it. Then she took off what might be laughingly considered her top.

Lying on her back all I could see was her thick mop of curly blond hair with two huge heavily nippled mountains rising behind it and her feet widely spread. I assumed that was Alice’s normal horizontal posture.

We had good wind and I was supplementing it with the engines. So we were doing close to 12 knots. That made the normal four-hour trip closer to three.

I got a call about two o’clock. I was just rounding Old Field Point and heading down the narrow peninsula toward the entrance to Port Jefferson harbor. A cheery Aussie voice said, “I’m home, where are you?”

I said just as cheerily, “I’m on the boat, like I said I would be. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

At that point Alice, who does not have a subtle bone in her body, loudly inquired, “Who’s that Jonathon?” She had come back from the foredeck and was strapping those massive titties back down in preparation for arriving at our destination.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then she said in a strangled voice, “Is that a woman with you?”

I said intentionally blithe, “Yeah – I didn’t want to go out by myself and Alice Whithers volunteered to come along. We are just going to party it up in Port Jeff and then come back as soon as possible tomorrow.”

Zoe knew that I was with the female equivalent of her date last night.

I realized what I was doing to her. In fact, I had planned it that way. The thing of it was; instead of giving me great pleasure, like I thought it would - it just killed me.

You could have heard a pin drop on the other end of the line. Then Zoe said in a broken-hearted tone, “Well enjoy yourself” and I could hear the beginning of a little sob as she cut the call.  

We docked at the public slips at the bottom of Port Jefferson harbor and walked up the main street to the several dance clubs nearby. It was evening now and things were just starting to heat up.

Alice was back to t-shirt and Daisy Dukes. To say the least, the local predator community was interested.

I had thought I felt rotten yesterday. NOW I was devastated. Alice was totally oblivious - of course. I ordered us a pitcher and we sat down at the table. She immediately started jiving in her seat.

She looked at me quizzically. I said, “I don’t dance.”

She was trying to pull me out on the floor when some guy who looked like he worked the Bridgeport ferry came over and asked her. She looked at me and I said, “By all means.”

For the next three and a half hours Alice drank and dry-humped her partners. A group of about four roughnecks were pouring drinks down her. I was watching her get drunker and sluttier as the evening wore on.

As I sat there I felt nothing but emptiness. Zoe had gone on a date. I had escalated. I didn’t think this was the end of the match. And I was not looking forward to the return volley.

Meantime Alice had disappeared. I had no interest in who she might be with. But I felt responsible. So I went looking for her. The voice in my head - who might be my mom - shook her head in disgust and said, “You are such a fucking over-bred dumbass.”

I eventually heard Alice rather than saw her.

There was a rhythmic wet, slapping noise and a choking Ughhh-Ughhh-Ughhh-Mmmmmph-Mmmmmph-Mmmmmph coming from the far side of the parking lot. I walked toward a beaten up Chevy van – while staying in the shadows.

There was Alice on her hands and knees with her massive butt sticking up in the air. She was taking it from the back from some invisible dude who was inside the van. While she deep throated a guy who was standing on the cement in front of the open doors.

The other two dudes were impatiently waiting their turn.

It would be a vast understatement to say that she looked and sounded like she was having the time of her life. The guy she was sucking let out a low grunt and an Unhhhh and I could see his butt muscles flex. Alice’s throat rippled enthusiastically.

Then she dropped his cock and began a frenzy of frantic moaning. It was a play by play that I could hear from where I was standing. She was wailing, “That’s IT baby – so good – fuck me – fuck me – HARDER – Oh Jesus I’m cumming.” The last was a feral howl.

I am no hero. But I had brought her. So I had to do something. I was not going to take on four burly dock-hands to protect Alice’s highly questionable virtue. But I COULD dial 911 from the bar’s ancient payphone and report a ruckus in the parking lot.

I was standing in the shadows as the cruiser rolled up. Alice was just finishing up the second pair as the flashing blue and red lights appeared. The guys scattered leaving her lying face first in the back of the van.

She had the presence of mind to pull her shorts back on, grab her t-shirt and head for the bar - giant melons flapping as she ran. She wasn’t as drunk as I thought. I intercepted her before she got to the back door. I walked her around the side of the building, and straight down the street to the boat. She never put on her shirt.

I could hear shouting behind me, as the cops chased the guys she was fucking. I walked her straight to the back of the cabin and put her down in the cuddy. She pulled her shorts back off and tried to drag me on top of her. But I said, “Not tonight Alice. You’ve had enough cock for one evening.”

She must have been feeling the delayed effect of the booze. Because she collapsed in the bunk, flat on her back, legs spread and pussy leaking on my sheets. Then she immediately started snoring. All-in-all it might have been the most bizarre night of my life.

It was midnight but sleep was the furthest thing from my mind. I was repulsed by Alice. I was totally sick of revenge. And I wanted to talk to Zoe.

Night sailing on Long Island Sound can be dangerous. Especially with the shoals, reefs and the ocean going ship traffic coming out of New York. But I needed to go home. I had to get my life back. For better, or for worse. And that would start with the conversation that I was going to have with Zoe.

I cast off and headed toward Oyster Bay on the engine. The panoply of stars overhead and the peace and quiet of the Sound began to put things in perspective for me.

It was really nobody’s fault. Couples need the strength and reassurance of personal closeness to deal with life’s problems. And Zoe is by-far the best friend and companion imaginable. But, that is a binary state. And psychological intimacy is only one dimension. The other half is sexual intimacy.

Normally the physical part comes first. I mean – guys don’t sit around a bar nudging each other and saying, “Check out the personality on that chick over there.” Their interests are a lot more prosaic and aimed a little farther south.

So most relationships tend to start out on the physical side and then transition into more sophisticated, long-term emotions like love and respect.

The problem was that Zoe and I clicked. We were almost immediately as close as two people could be. And that instant chemistry was what fooled me.

Our kind of sympatico would normally lead to something carnal. I mean I’m a guy for Christ’s sake!!! But I knew Zoe’s backstory. And I just assumed that she was fragile. I didn’t want to lose her. So I underplayed my hand.

As it turned out THAT was an incredibly dumb strategy. Any idiot should realize that an attractive woman like Zoe was not going to sit on the shelf while I dabbled at being chivalrous. But I was too fucking naïve, or perhaps over-confident - to understand that.

And as a result, around sunrise I was motoring past Centre Island toward my docking slip not knowing what was waiting for me at home. The logical scenario was to find the two of them sitting around the breakfast table looking well-fucked.

I probably deserved that. Since I was the one who had gone nuclear.

I was mad at Zoe for letting a greasy cock-hound fuck her. But I never thought they would do anything except straight-up sex. Taking Alice Whithers anywhere was like declaring that you were going to conduct an orgy that would have made Caligula proud.

Alice was actually a very good and efficient secretary during the day. It was just that she was legendary for the things she did and the people she did them with afterhours.

Zoe knew that. Hell!! Everybody in Nassau County knew that…

And I was ashamed of myself. Not for screwing over Zoe. That was another kind of pain. I was mortified that I had now joined the legion of men who were on Alice’s legendary list. Even if I had never actually touched her.

Speaking of Alice, she was sawing logs while I laid up the boat. She was lying where she had fallen, nude, legs spread and with her huge tits riding up and down on her chest as she snored.

God help me! - I actually thought about it. She is a good looking woman with an outrageous body. And after the events of the past thirty-six hours I was incredibly horny.

Her two big brown nipples looked delectable. I thought to myself, “Sucking on one of them wouldn’t hurt anybody.” And I was more than sure that Alice would appreciate it - conscious, or unconscious.

But I ALSO knew where THAT would lead. And I had no desire to come down with something communicable. After all - she had just barebacked four burly dock hands.

So instead, I tried to wake her up. That took a lot of ingenuity. Since she was REALLY, REALLY down for the count.

I shook her shoulder saying, “Alice wake up.” All that got out of her was a loud snore and those monsters jiggled like two bowls of warm Jello. Her mouth fell open and she went back to sawing logs, a little rope of drool running down her cheek.

I dragged her around on the bunk so that I could reach under her arms and pull her to her feet. I thought she would probably wake up if I got her standing.

Bad idea! She as was limp as the proverbial wet noodle.

So when I slipped my arms around her to haul her to her feet what do you think I grabbed.

My God!!! They were huge. And I could feel her nipples, which were proportionally just as big, start to harden. I manhandled her off the bed and her legs dropped to the floor. I was still holding her from behind, mainly by the boobs. And she was not standing up!!!

She was getting heavy. So I let go of her and she flopped back face first on the bunk. With her big round ass propped on the edge. And as I stumbled forward, my momentum jammed Old Lucifer - who by that point had assumed circus tent size – up to the hilt between her cheeks.

THAT produced a snort of epic proportions.  

She gave a loud cry and shoved her ass back against me HARD!!! I wouldn’t have been human if I had not shoved back. She groaned with pleasure and began a steady doggy motion, while moaning rhythmically.

We dry humped for a few minutes – her nude and me dressed. She had plastered her huge jugs flat on the bunk, grabbing handfuls of sheet and elevated her big round buns even higher. She was breathing noisily and making intense effort sounds.

I had a death grip on her hips just above her tiny waist and I was pounding her with all of my might. Looking at her from the back, as she shoved against the bed, I couldn’t believe how far out from her relatively small rib cage her boobs pillowed. And how physically strong she was.

I have to admit that if I had a condom I would have slipped it in her. All noble thoughts of Zoe and my reputation be damned at that point. But I didn’t have one. So I was not getting the full experience of her no-doubt well-used pussy.

Alice didn’t appear to be aware that I wasn’t inside her. She was moaning, grunting and crying out with abandon. The scent of totally aroused female was everywhere.

Then just a few minutes into our little dalliance her movements became disjointed and jerky. And she started the kind of play-by-play that I had heard from the van, “Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God - that feels sooooo good – Lord Jesus I’m CUMMING.”

And she let out a blood curdling shriek, arched her back like a cat, held that rigid position for a couple of exquisite seconds. Then her hips began a frantic up and down motion and she came - very wetly - with a loud cry of “AAAAAGHHHH!!!” - all over the front of my boat shorts

She collapsed forward face down breaking the contact. Thank God I had not cum. I had wanted to in the worst sort of way but that would have just added to the mess.

The good news was that she was clearly awake now, coming back from whatever post-orgasmic never-never-land she had just visited. Meanwhile, I got a pair of jeans out of the locker and swapped them for my shorts. That eliminated the lingering smell of illicit things. I was ready to take her home.

She said, “Wow!! That was delightful baby.” I wondered what she thought we had done. She was probably half asleep during most of it. Maybe she just assumed that I had fucked her.

She said, “Let me clean up and change and I will be right with you - lover.” That last word set off my flight reflex.

I walked out on the afterdeck closing the cabin hatch. I was out-of-my-mind with terminal blue-balls. And I was seriously thinking about going back down for an all-day session. I knew that Alice would be more than happy to accommodate. But I thought of what I had to look forward to with Zoe.

I had a picture in my mind of Zoe loudly fucking slime-ball in the same fashion. That vision sent a thunderbolt of jealousy through me. And THAT damped things down enough for me to concentrate on what had to be done.

Alice came out twenty minutes later dressed almost normal. She had on a slightly too tight t-shirt. But given the tremendous contrast between her rib cage and her monster tits I could understand how hard it would be to find something that fitted everything. She was wearing a pair of painted on jeans to finish off the ensemble.

All the way back Alice prattled about what a wonderful time she had and what a magnificent lover I was.

I didn’t know whether she was that stupid, or she was gaming me. I had never officially touched the bitch and the high point of her trip was the gangbang in the back of a rusty old van. Maybe that was what Alice considered fun?

I dropped her at the door. She wanted me to come in but I told her that there were things I absolutely HAD to deal with at home. I wasn’t lying. I had to talk with Zoe straightaway.

She looked disappointed. But her last words sent chills down my spine. She said, “We’ll have to do this again soon lover!!”

I put on a polite face and said, “I’ll call you.” I was hoping that the campus was big enough that I could lay low until THIS self-inflicted wound healed.

I approached my house with trepidation. Piccardi’ s red corvette wasn’t in the driveway so that was a good sign.

I almost hoped that Zoe wasn’t there. I had been up for almost two straight days. And to say the least, I was not at my best. So I wanted some sleep. But if she was there I had to settle things for-better-or-for-worse.

I paused at my front door and mustered the courage to open it. I took a deep breath, turned the knob and walked into my house. Zoe was lying passed out on the couch with a robe wrapped around her sturdy little body, and with Buster sleeping peacefully on the floor next to her.

Her thick auburn hair was a mess. Her face looked drawn and her sleeping posture was anything but relaxed. She looked like an angel – MY angel.

Buster stirred and said accusingly, in his slow southern drawl, “About time you got home boss.”

Then he rose and ambled into the bathroom where I could hear him loudly drinking out of the toilet. I have tried for years to break him of that habit. But he says it’s an important part of his wake up routine – like coffee in the morning for me.

The noise of Buster’s lapping woke Zoe. She stirred and slowly opened her eyes. It took her a second to realize where she was. Then she focused on me standing there. The look of hurt and betrayal blew me away.

It was clear that I had just joined her ex-fiancé as the arch-betrayer.

She said with suppressed anger in her voice, “Did you and Alice have a good time?”

I looked at her with all of the love I felt. And said in the calmest voice I could muster, “You and I have suffered from a disastrous lack of communication. And that has caused a lot of pain. I want to end that right now.”

She looked puzzled. I kept talking I said, “I don’t know how you feel about our relationship. And I want to find that out as soon as I can. But as far as I’m concerned I have to lay all of my cards on the table.”

Without a word she swung her legs off the couch, rose and walked into the kitchen. I heard her rattling around out there making coffee. The whole world thinks that the Aussies drink tea, like the Brits do. But the younger generation, like Zoe, are all coffee drinkers.

I walked in behind her. Her body language told me that she was very angry. She looked at me. Her eyes were red. She had been crying. My opinion of myself sank a little lower.

She frowned, held up the pot and said, “Coffee?”.

I nodded and sat down.

She put a mug of that wonderfully restorative liquid in front of me.  I savored the aroma. She sat and just stared at me. Okay – I could see that the ball was in my court.

The part of me that is about six years old was dying to ask her how many times she had fucked the asshole. But fortunately, my slightly more emotionally mature self said, “This all started because I have never told you how I really feel about you.”

She looked stunned. I continued, “I love you. I have loved you from the first day we met. I was taking it slow because I thought you needed time to get over Charlie. Of course, just assuming something without actually asking is pretty arrogant - isn’t it?”

I added sadly, “I would like to think that you would not have slept with Piccardi if I had told you how I felt. But I didn’t - and you did.”

Now she looked dumbfounded. I said, “I spent Friday night with a picture in my head of you two doing very sweaty things in some swanky New York hotel. And it just killed me. So I pulled this little stunt with Alice to get even.”

Her eyes hardened but she continued to listen. I said, “I chose her because in my mind she is no different than Piccardi. And I thought she would be the perfect person to make my point.”

Now she looked really angry. I said, “The problem is that I knew I wasn’t being fair. You didn’t know that I loved you did you?”

She spat out, “Of course not!!! You acted like my gay best friend!!! I walked around here practically nude for a solid two months and all you did was make pithy comments about work. What did you expect me to think!!!”

I actually smiled at that and said in a conciliatory tone of voice, “Well if it is any consolation my date with Alice was a total disaster. On the way there she nattered to a point where I was thinking of keel hauling her. Then, when we got to Port Jeff she got beastly drunk and was gang-banged by four dock-workers. I loaded her dead body on the boat and sailed directly home. That’s why I am back so early.”

I added with a weak grin, “By the way, I want you to know that she slept all the way back. I never as much as took off my clothes. That was technically true. And at this point I didn’t think it was wise to get into splitting hairs.”

Then I added with a placating smile, “Well honestly, I DID get a greeting kiss when I picked her up. It was pretty hot.”

Then I got serious, “But I swear to God that over the past 48 hours all I have thought about is you and how much I needed to tell you how I felt.”

I added sincerely, “It might be too late but if you will have me I want to be your devoted and exclusive lover and some day your husband.”

Those big brown intelligent eyes misted over. Women!!!

She said, “For the past twelve hours I have just hated you. Against all of my better judgement I let myself fall in love with you. And then you shit all over that love by spending a weekend with that whore.”

Then she started to sniffle and said, “What was I supposed to think? I had no idea you felt that way about me. If you had only told me, even hinted that you wanted me. If I had thought that there was even the slightest chance of us being a couple. I would have NEVER gone out with that man.”

Then her face hardened and she said, “I know what you are wondering. YES, I spent the night with him. But NO, I didn’t do everything he wanted me to do. I don’t serve myself up on a first date. It’s a personal pride thing. That was what I told you when I left didn’t I?”

I nodded in acknowledgement.

She went on with, “I am a very passionate and experienced lover. I can make any man happy. And believe me. Tony Piccardi was one very happy man when he dropped me off yesterday.”

I got it. I hated it. But I got it. Apparently she had satisfied him with something other than her pussy. Whether that involved a simple blow job, or things like riding crops, leather bustiers and Nazi regalia was left to my imagination.

But I got her gist. She had not let him actually fuck her. Hence she had not thrown up any lingering roadblocks.

But the fact was; it really didn’t matter. We had not made promises to each other – except unspoken ones. And technically we weren’t a couple when that happened.

We had been best friends for a long time. But friendship is not the same as commitment. In fact, I could have fucked Alice hanging from the masthead trapeze and in principle there wouldn’t have been any violation of the rules of engagement.

More importantly, that was yesterday. The critical question was how she felt about our relationship going forward.

So I outright asked her. I said, “Okay, now you know exactly how I feel. I want to have an exclusive arrangement with you. And eventually have you as my wife forsaking all others - when you are ready. If that is not what you want, we will part on the best of terms. Because I cannot endure another weekend like this.

However, if you want me in the same way that I want you I have to hear you say it. Are we on the path to marriage, or are we going our separate ways?

In answer, she gave me the most intense “fuck me” look I had ever shared with a woman. She stood up wordlessly, and sashayed around the table. She looked determined. I rose more-or-less defensively.

She took my hand. And she practically dragged me to the downstairs bedroom. She was shedding her robe as she walked. As soon as we got into the room she tossed the robe and pushed down her panties. She stepped out of them and stood naked in front of me for my inspection.

She had a beautiful little body, from her delicate shoulders, past the pert breasts, which sat proudly up on her sturdy rip cage, to her flat stomach and down to her surprisingly wide and very heavily muscled hips and flanks.

I was standing there looking stupefied. And as usual doing nothing. Which had been my problem all along with Zoe.

 So she stepped forward smiling with womanly confidence and began unbuttoning my shirt.

My brain finally kicked into gear. I whipped the shirt over my head, and hastily dropped my shorts and underwear.

And then it was just me and Old Lucifer. And he was standing proud.

In the meantime, Zoe had turned around, and sauntered insolently over to the bed.

I had witnessed that trip and I was astounded by how high, round and perfectly shaped her ass was. It was the other feature that was as world-class as her outrageously sexy mouth.

She was reclining there - regarding me with unmistakable female challenge. This was the moment that I had been dreaming about for three and a half months. I wanted to savor it.

I lay down gently next to her, took her into my arms and kissed those incredible lips. She gave a little moan and opened her mouth in the hottest most passionate reception imaginable. Except Zoe’s lips were alive working frantically, not just pressed against mine. It was an incredibly simulating sensation.

I broke the kiss and looked into those deep intelligent eyes. She was looking back with an intense stare that communicated her need for me. She had also quizzically arched one eyebrow like she was saying, “Show me what you’ve got big boy?”

I went back to the well for another incredible kiss. Her mouth, tongue and lips were constantly moving, pulling and probing even nipping my lips. I remember thinking that if the rest of her performance was as animated as her kisses I was in for a very wild ride indeed.

As we kissed I began to caress her from her rock hard flank, down the side of her powerful thigh to her knee. Everything down there was moving in little erotic flexes and quivers. It was like all of her was vibrating with carnal energy.

My caressing her leg set off a series of full throated moans. Her entire body was like a live-wire now, fizzing with sexual electricity. Her reactions to being touched were both spontaneous and extreme. It was clear that she really FELT it.

I now understood what she was talking about when she told me that she could satisfy any man. Her wild reaction to my stimulations made me feel like John Holmes standing on Ron Jeremy’s shoulders. And I had not touched a single erogenous zone – yet.

She had very firm and round little boobs. With pronounced upturned nipples. I broke the kiss and moved my attentions down to one of those appendages. It felt red hot when I took it between my fingertips.

I tweaked it and she let out a loud guttural groan. Her eyes rolled up in her head. And in a strangled tone of voice she said, “Fuck me!!! You have to fuck me NOW!!!

Those were the last coherent words I heard out of her for the next forty-five minutes.

My tweaking her nipple set her off like a skyrocket. She was frantically humping the air, while muttering over and over in low harsh tones, “fuck-me-fuck-me-fuck-me.”

As her hands disappeared between her legs, I concluded that she was not interested in the subtleties of romance. She wanted to get right down to the main event – with, or without me.

I actually had another one of those moments. How could somebody so abandoned NOT fuck Piccardi’s brains out last night. My little voice said, “Stop dithering you pussy and fuck her!!!”

I moved between her legs. She grabbed the back of her knees and pulled her legs into an exaggerated “V”, elevating her hips in perfect position to be penetrated. All the while she was silently fixing me with the hottest stare. It was both arousal and challenge in a single look.

I plunged into a mass of velvet lava. She let out a shriek of pure pleasure, slammed her legs around my waist and ground her heels into my ass – in effect pulling me deeper inside of her.

Then the age old motion began. This was fucking without tricks. It was pure primal mating. She was making extreme effort noises, Ugh-ugh-ugh-oh-oh!!! When she wasn’t doing that she was moaning and crying out with unbridled lust.

She was soaking wet and the pheromones of her sex triggered something fundamental at the base of my lizard brain. It felt like both adrenal glands dumped at once. In fact, I was in such an adrenaline fueled frenzy – that I was pounding her without even thinking about whether I was hurting her.

All that did was inspire her. She had her arms in a death grip around my neck and her legs were clamped to my waist while she made deep feral growls and screeches like a mating cat. We just beat on each other snarling and yowling for at least twenty minutes.

I had never lasted that long – at least at the outrageous speed we were humping. And I didn’t even think about cumming. The sensations – the sounds and the smells were just so profound. It was like a high-frequency machine going kachunk-kachunk-kachunk at a super-fast rate.

Zoe took everything that I was dishing out and begged for more.

Finally, her body began to spasm. It was like she was having an epileptic seizure. Then she uttered a high frequency shriek that probably only dogs could hear, abruptly whipped her legs from around me and slammed them down hard on the bed.

Then, her heels beat a tattoo on the mattress as she tried to process the orgasm that was gripping her. Her amazing lips were contracted in a rictus of pure sensation as her passage went nuts around me.

The contractions felt like she was milking me with her hands, not her pussy. And while all that was going on inside – the rest of her went completely limp.

And I still couldn’t cum.

So I dragged her dead body roughly over to the edge of the bed and laid her face down in the same approximate position as Alice had been a mere four hours earlier. 

I reentered her churning passage and she moaned weakly. Then I began to pound that incredible ass in all of its jutting springy glory. She was making weak attempts to raise it to give me more leverage.

And then her desire flamed again and it was like somebody had lit the proverbial match in the fireworks factory.

She started crying out and pushing back as hard as I was walloping on her.  Her moans were continuous and so loud that I was afraid she would have the neighbors calling 911. She had a grip on the sheet like she was trying to tear it in half.

She was whipping her hair back and forth in a frenzy. And urging me on with wails of, “CUM-Jonathon CUM in me PLEASE!!!” Then the sheet actually ripped as an orgasm of epic proportions rocketed through her and she emitted an unearthly scream of – “OH MY GOD!!! CUMAGAIN!!!”

And at that point my orgasm hit. It felt like it had originated from somewhere way over the rainbow. And I came so ridiculously hard that I thought I was going to deposit my entire reproductive system in her.

The next several seconds were more like a near-death experience than a post orgasmic recovery. I slid limply, face-first down her well-muscled but very sweaty back and landed on the floor. I feebly turned and propped myself against the bed. I was panting so hard that I was sure that I was going to pass out.

It appeared that Zoe had actually lost consciousness - since she was lying there as motionless as the dead. I finally got some sanity back and stood up to attend to her. She was lying face-first in a big puddle of drool. Her arms were extended in front of her – hands still clutching the ripped sheet. And to say the least her hair looked like a bird’s nest.

She popped one cheery eye open and said with wry humor, “In case you didn’t get the message I think we’re on the path to marriage.”

THAT broke the ice. We spent the entire day fucking. Zoe was insatiable. We would finish one monster orgasm. She would bring me back to life with her mouth. And we would be back at it again. We must have tried out every position in the Kama Sutra.

And in between we talked, laughed and ate Chinese carry-out.

I asked her how she could be so incredibly hot. The subtext was. “How could you be so amazing without extensive practice?”

That was not exactly gentlemanly. But she had to be aware that her skill in the bedroom arts was something special. She said, “There was nobody but Charlie for the first ten years. I loved him and I was faithful to him. But he WAS a rugby player. And I wanted to please him. So I explored every corner of my sexuality with him. And believe me, that involved visiting some very strenuous places.”

She added, “There have been two other men since then, both in Australia. And I was really just trying to see whether I could get over Charlie. One man offered to marry me after the third time. So I must have SOME talent in the area. But it is nothing that I think about or plan. You are my fourth and indisputably my last.

Now I had to clear something up about myself. I said, “In case you’re wondering, I’m a nerd not a porn star. I have no idea where THAT performance came from. But you have to be the one who is causing it. Since I have been nothing but ordinary with every other woman I’ve ever been with. And there haven’t really been that many anyhow.”

I knew what had happened. Zoe’s extraordinary sexuality made everything we did natural and intuitive.  Her remarkable ability to abandon herself took all the pressure off me. I didn’t have to work to please her. I just did what came naturally without thinking. And she still went nuts.

That put my innate instincts in charge – not my hang-ups.

Of course Zoe’s spectacular bedroom talents raised all of the obvious issues with an insecure piece of shit like me. So I had to ask her. Even though I knew that it was insulting.

I said, “Do you do this with everybody?”

She knew what I was asking. And she gave me a look that basically said, “You’re an asshole!!!”

But she is very smart. She knew that a woman as extraordinarily hot as she was, would make any man insecure. So she said, “I really didn’t understand myself until after Charlie left me. I spent ten years giving him everything - holding nothing back. It was just automatic.”

I thought, “And he married somebody ELSE!!??? Unbelievable!!!”

She got a contemplative look and said, “After he betrayed me –  I simply didn’t respond like that. The sex with other men was nothing more than commonplace and a little boring.”

She grinned sheepishly and said, “Well, maybe not for the man. I have a pretty high level of energy. And I fear nothing in the bedroom. But it wasn’t the all-out jungle fucking that we have been doing.”

Then she looked at me lovingly and said. “I thought that I had lost the joy of totally giving myself to somebody.”

Then she looked thoughtful and said, “That is - until today. But I know the secret now. I have to feel utterly committed and in love before I can let myself go. And I have you to thank for helping me understand that.”

That answered my other question. She wasn’t lying about Friday night. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. Unfortunately, that was a little premature.

We were two people in love when we went off to class on Monday morning.

By Monday afternoon we were lobbing shells back-and-forth across a Demilitarized Zone.

I don’t know exactly when she got her story. But I know when I got mine.

Zoe ran a three-hour Cisco lab on Monday. I only had a two-hour lecture so I normally met her in the Student Union. That’s why I was sitting at the Starbucks, when Piccardi walked in.

He looked smugger and more self-satisfied than I had ever seen him. He spotted me gave me his most arrogant smirk and headed for my table. I was clearing the decks for what I knew would be an unpleasant encounter.

I shut off my laptop closed the screen and looked up at him with what I hoped was neutral interest on my face - rather than the loathing I felt.

He was totally full of himself. He looked me over with his usual sneer and said, “I had to come by and tell you how much fun I had fucking your hot little roommate. She’s the wildest thing I have ever stuck my dick into and that’s saying something.”

He preened and added, “I mean she couldn’t get enough of me – she spent all night begging me to fuck her. We fucked four times before I told her that the only way I would give it to her again was in the ass. She couldn’t hoist that fine butt of hers fast enough.”

Then he chuckled and said, “By the way. Just so you know, I’m planning on tapping her again next Friday. But this time maybe we’ll cut right to the chase and head for my place. I know she’ll want to get right down to doing the things that make her happy.”

Then he went for the kill stroke, “It must be tough living with somebody that smoking hot who won’t let you fuck her wimp-boy.”

At that he gave me a final smirk, stood up and walked with an irritating swagger in the direction of the baristas.

It completely blew all my circuits. I just sat there frozen. I am not remotely aggressive. But I swear that I would have gone after the asshole. Except the heavy burden of angst that he had just dropped on me had nailed me to my chair.

My rational self was sure that he was messing with me. I knew from day-one that he resented me. I was a rising young faculty star. And he shuffled paper in the Registrar’s Office. I mean a man doesn’t start out life planning to be a glorified secretary.

But the thing that spiked my blood pressure was his absolute certainty. Nobody talks like he did unless there wasn’t SOME fire under the smoke.

The problem was that Zoe had given me her solemn promise that he had never really touched her that way. So what had she done?

We had made no commitments. Consequently, at that point she had violated no moral boundaries – except perhaps the dictates of good taste.

I don’t know how I would have reacted if she had told me that she had let the douchebag ass-fuck her. I know from personal experience that she has that in her skill set. But if she had told me what actually happened, I would have felt far less betrayed than I did at that moment.

Accordingly, I was foaming at the mouth when Zoe appeared.

She was wearing one of those glen-plaid wrap-around skirts that preppy women love, classic blue quarter-zip sweater with the requisite cotton button down shirt underneath bare legs and knee socks. She was breathtaking.

With her thick auburn hair in a sleek pony tail and her perfect oval face, I knew that I had a rare gem – one I didn’t want to lose. Even though I was thinking about killing her.

She came stalking up to me with fire in her eyes. I thought to myself, “What the fuck is THIS!!!”

She stood in front of me just boiling with anger. Through gritted teeth she said, “We have to talk NOW Mister!!!” And she stomped away in the direction of the parking lot.

We had come to campus in the same vehicle. So when she went rocketing past me in MY car I knew that the world had turned upside down.

I called a cab. Long Island isn’t the City. So it took a while. When I entered the house she was throwing the last of her stuff in her Land Rover. As she was doing that she was crying bitterly.

I was thinking that I was the person who should be pissed, not her. But she was the one who seemed to be literally out of her mind with rage. I stood there watching her as she crammed the last of her stuff in.

I said with less annoyance than I felt, “I’m here. Let’s talk!!!”

She turned toward me and started outright sobbing, covering her face with her hands. I was totally mystified. Why did I feel like I was the bad guy here? I was the one who had been shit on, not her.

I walked into the house. Buster greeted me looking concerned. I said, “I don’t know what’s going on buddy. The whole gender is nuts.”

At that point she stomped past me and stalked over to the kitchen table. I strolled over a little less aggressively. I had a sudden thought - It seemed like every 24 hours we went from the outhouse to the penthouse and back again sitting in the same two chairs.

I looked at her quizzically.

She said, “Alice made it a point to look me up as soon as I got to campus. So what have you got to say for yourself NOW - arshole!!!???” She used the Aussie pronunciation. I think that connotes something more in their language.

I was stunned. I said, “So Alice looked you up. So what?” That would have reassured me, if Zoe’s conduct hadn’t been so bizarre. But her behavior was beginning to freak me out. 

She slammed her hand down on the table and said, “She told me about all of the fucking you did at her place and in the boat – it was a laundry list of depravity. Her ass??!!! Seriously!!!?? You had to fuck her in the ass and then come back and do the same thing to me????” And she began to sob loudly.

Alright, I got it! Sort of.

Alice had gone out of her way to spin a fairy tale for Zoe. Probably, that was an anticipatory strike aimed at nuking Zoe off the board. And Alice seemed to have succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. I actually didn’t think the bitch was that smart.

I was royally pissed. I didn’t need this bullshit. Especially on top of what Piccardi had just laid on me. Sometimes I think that God uses me as his personal speed bag.

I said with extreme bitterness, “Trust me!! If I had known how well used your ass already was, I would have never touched it.”

She looked astonished. Not guilty, just totally flabbergasted. She said with confusion in her voice, “What the fuck are you talking about???!!”

I kept right on, “The closest I came to touching Alice was manhandling her naked body out of the bunk Sunday morning - after she passed out in it the night before.

I added, “All the dumb cunt did was lie around in a G-string, drink too much and gangbang a bunch of horny red-necks. I can’t imagine how she would have had time to squeeze any more debauchery into her busy schedule!!”.”

I looked at Zoe pointedly and said, “Of course based on what Piccardi told me you were just as busy as Alice. I don’t know why you felt like you had to lie to me about it. But seriously Zoe??!!! Five times???

How did you have the energy Sunday, or are you just that big a slut??”

Now she was looking really confused. She said, “Piccardi told you what???!!”

I said, “To quote him - you are the wildest thing he ever stuck his dick in. And the only way you would stop begging him to fuck you was when he made you give up your ass.”

She turned absolutely purple with rage. She shrieked, “You are LYING!!! You are just making that up to justify what you did this weekend you cheating manwhore!!!”

Then she stood up, flounced out the door, started up her car and roared out of the driveway, spraying gravel all over the front of the house as she went.

I looked at Buster. He looked back at me and said, “That didn’t go so well did it boss?”

Alice worked a regular nine-to-five. And I thought that it might upset the Dean if I strangled his secretary right there in front of him. So I had to wait until she got home.

And wait I did.

In the meantime, I called Zoe a couple of dozen times. I was beginning to smell a big fat Italian rat and I wanted one last shot at talking to her. I hoped once she had cooled down we might be able to resolve this. But either her phone was off, or she was screening me.

I was sitting in the parking lot of Alice’s complex when she rolled up in her little Ford Fiesta. She was dressed for work, white faux-silk blouse, modest gray skirt and a matching jacket that toned down the monsters underneath.

She has a very pretty face with short curly blond hair. And if you did not know anything about her off-hours exploits you would find her very attractive.

She started to walk toward her apartment totally unaware that I was in in hot pursuit. I caught up as she was getting her keys out of her purse.

She turned startled. And then she gave me a long slow lascivious grin. She said seductively, “Good afternoon lover. Let me get into something more comfortable.”

Then she opened the door and walked straight back toward her bedroom without closing it. I had to do that.

Apparently something more comfortable amounted to a robe. And nothing else. That was obvious by the way things were shifting around underneath it.

I was sitting on her couch when she came out. She gave me a very hot look and sat next to me, legs drawn up with one monster tit pressed against my shoulder and her right arm draped across the back of the couch.  

I had a plan. I knew that the prospect of sex would get Alice to spill the beans. So I looked in those very horny eyes and said in a flirtatious tone, “Who told you to talk to Zoe?” I made it sound like I was engaging in a little foreplay.

She answered without a moment’s hesitation, “Why Tony Piccardi, of course.” It was like Alice and I were in a little joke together.

I shook my finger at her playfully and said, “Why you little devil you!! Why would Tony ask you to do something so naughty?”

She liked the way this was going. She turned mischievous and said, “He came over just after you dropped me off. He asked how our weekend went.”

A cloud passed across her face as she said, “I told him that we didn’t really do anything – except for a little fooling around right at the end. I told him that I thought that you might be gay.”

Then she said totally guileless, “He explained the reason why you are so inhibited. He told me about your roommate and how domineering she is. And he told me that you and I would be perfect together if I could just get her out of your life.”

Oh he did - did he?!!!

She went on unaware of my reaction. There was anger in her voice as she said, “I know how those academic women are. They think they’re smarter than everybody else – have no respect for anybody – have to control everything.”

I got it. Most of the females in the faculty condescended to Alice. It was because of the way she looked. And the reputation that she had. Alice covered up her resentment. But that had to hurt.

Then she brightened, “Tony said that I ought to do you a BIG favor and tell the bitch what a REALLY good time we had this weekend.”

She smiled wickedly, “He told me to make stuff up. And the juicier the better.”

She giggled coquettishly, “So I told your bitch roommate that you kept dropping anchor and fucking me and that we’d done some very kinky things including my ass.”

She squealed delightedly, “And look! It worked! The way your roommate reacted I’m sure that she’s gone forever. She was really pissed!!!!”

I thought, “Incredible!!! They ought to crucify Piccardi for taking advantage of the criminally stupid.”

It was obvious that both Zoe and I had been set up. And I was going to get it all back with interest and penalties.

In the meantime, Alice was giving me her best “fuck me” stare – like in her mind the next logical step would be the bedroom. In the end, I really wasn’t mad at her. I wanted to kill Piccardi but she was an innocent. Or as innocent as a dumb slut like her could be.

I almost felt sorry for her.

I looked at her sadly and said, “Piccardi lied to you Alice. Zoe and I have been together - as a couple - for months. But he wants in Zoe’s pants. He must know that she has betrayal issues. So he used your phony story to make her mad enough to move out – and probably in with him.”

Alice looked poleaxed. She said with wonder in her voice, “But he told me she was a castrating cunt. Why did you take me out on your boat if you two were together?”

I smiled kindly. Alice was slutty. But it was because she was not that bright. She thought that all she had to do was kiss enough frogs and she’d get the fairy tale ending. Which was why she was willing to fuck anything in pants.

Oh – I knew that she really liked the sex part. I was a firsthand witness to THAT.

But oddly enough, you didn’t have to drill down very far to see that there was a certain childlike naiveté to Alice. She was just simple minded. If she had been skinny and mousy people would ignore her, not prey on her. But because she looked like she did, people used her for their own purposes.

I said as sympathetically as possible, “It was a misunderstanding. Zoe and I cleared it up after I got back. I’m sorry Alice. We really had a very good time. But Zoe is the woman in my life.”   

Alice looked devastated. She started to sniffle. I said, “What’s the matter?”

She said, “I have never felt this way about a man.”

I thought, “OH SHIT!!!! She’s falling in love with me!!!” My fuck or flight reflex wanted to throw up its hands and run screaming into the parking lot.  

Instead - chivalrous to a fault - I told her that any man would be lucky to have her as a wife. I didn’t add as long as he could fit her with an unbreakable chastity belt. Then I told her that I had a lecture to prepare. So I had to go.

She said hopefully, “Are you coming back?”

I looked at her sitting there with that spectacular body, her robe hanging open, her giant bouncers on display.

I thought, “If Zoe doesn’t come to her senses maybe I WILL. Alice might be stupid but at least her belfry is certifiably bat free.”

So I said, “We’ll see.”

But right then I had more important things to attend to.

I kind of suspected where Zoe had gone. She had to live somewhere and she only had one other viable option. So I drove over to Piccardi’s house.

His place backed up on the golf course at Bethpage Park. The word “ostentations” comes to mind. He makes a third of what I do. But like I said – his family has money.

Zoe was unloading the last of the boxes from the back of her Land Rover. Piccardi must have been in the house. I walked toward her.

She said, “Go away, you bastard. I don’t EVER want to see you again.” 

I spread my arms in a placating manner and said, “I just came from Alice’s place.”

Doh!!! Stupid opening gambit.

Zoe dropped the box, carefully selected a shoe and threw it at me. She said, infuriated, “How many times did you fuck her TODAY arshole!!!”

There was part of me that wanted to turn her over my knee. But I kept my temper and said as calmly as I could, “She told me that she made up everything that she said to you!!!”

Zoe looked confused. I paused for dramatic effect and said, “And guess who convinced her to do that?”

She reacted oddly. It was like she didn’t want to hear what I was going to say next. I said as placating as I could, “Can’t we call a truce and discuss this. You should at least find out the real story.”

Asswipe appeared at that point. He was his usual conceited self. But he might have overheard the last part of our conversation. Because he was full of bluster.

He yelled, “Get off my property or I’ll call the police!!!”

I said, “Seriously dude???!!! This is a public sidewalk.”

Then I turned to Zoe and said, “Piccardi played you. Just give me a minute to explain. Alice will back me up on all of this. She won’t lie again. She’ll tell you what really happened.”

Dickbreath looked panicked. He yelled at Zoe – don’t listen to him! He’s just lying to justify what he did.”

Where had I heard that before? I wondered when Zoe had talked to the asshole. Probably just before he had talked to me. Which reminded me.

I said, “Lying huh? How many times did you say that you and Zoe fucked Friday night – four I believe? And once in the ass? Wasn’t that what you told me?”

Zoe was now looking at him stunned - with comprehension slowly dawning in her eyes. 

It was the classic, “Have you stopped beating your wife” conundrum.

If he said, “I never fucked her,” which Zoe knew to be true. She still wouldn’t know that he was a lying sack of shit. But of course I would. And if he said, “Oh yes… multiple times!” Zoe would know that he was lying.

Dickhead tried to solve things by not saying anything. He stood there glaring hatred. Finally, he said, “I am not going to dignify that with a response.”

Not too quick on the snappy comebacks was he??

That didn’t even have a CHANCE of success. Zoe looked both puzzled and angry. She said, “Answer him Tony!! Did you tell Jonathon that you fucked me Friday night?!!”

He grudgingly said, “I might have implied something along those lines. It was for your own good Zoe. You need to be with somebody who has money and style – not that nerd.”

He was standing there in the doorway with his arms spread imploringly. 

She yelled, “AHHHHH!!! MEN!!!” Reached into the box, selected the mate to the shoe she had thrown at me, and chucked it at Dickbreath. He ducked as it whizzed past his head and into the house. The girl had an arm on her.

Then she turned to me and said sheepishly, “Is my room still available??!!!”

I said, “I haven’t rented it yet. But it we will have to talk, before I take the sign down.”

She said, “Good, see you at home in a half hour. And she began to repack her car.”

She arrived home twenty-five minutes after I did. The delay was suitably long enough for her to finish repacking and give Douchebag a piece of her mind.

She started carrying her things back up to her room. She looked odd, almost distraught. I grabbed a load of stuff and followed. When I got there she was sitting on the bed crying.

She said through her tears, “How can you ever forgive me?”

I set the box down, walked over, sat on the bed and put my arm around her shoulders. They were shaking with her sobs.

I said, “I talked to Alice. She told me everything that she said to you. I know that you have issues with betrayal in your past. And your reaction to Alice’s story is perfectly consistent with that experience. It would be hard to trust any guy after what Charlie did to you.”

I said, “Alice really isn’t a bad person. She’s just dumb and easily manipulated. Piccardi was the one who convinced her to lie to you. Because he knew how you would react.”

She looked at me intently and said, “How do you THINK I reacted???!!!”

Well – I hadn’t actually THOUGHT about that – now HAD I?

I said with rising trepidation, “I don’t know. You were really pissed when you left here and it took me several hours to track down Alice to beat a confession out of her.”

I was beginning to do the math and I didn’t like what it was adding up to.

I said lamely, with a pain in my voice, “I was hoping you went somewhere quiet to cool down?”

But I knew what she had really done. Zoe is as headstrong as I am. In her mind I would have utterly violated her trust. That is - if she believed Alice.

So her first thought would be vengeance. And I knew exactly who she would pick to get it. A mighty eruption went off in my head. Hell!!! It wasn’t a simple volcano. It was two planets colliding!!!

I said with all of the pain in the universe concentrated in a single super-hot black-hole in my heart, “You DIDN’T???!!!!”

She started to sob loudly, turned and lay face first on the bed, just beating on the mattress with one fist.

I thought game, set, and match to Mr. Piccardi. The feeling of loss was staggering.

I thought to myself, “I’ll have to take sufficient time to come up with just the right plan. But when I do, it will be scorched earth - war to the knife.”

I arose slowly from the bed, and picked up a box. I tried to appear dignified as I walked down to her car.

I came back upstairs. She was lying in the same position as when I left her - wailing in anguish. She sat up tears streaming down her face. She said imploringly, “Please, it was a mistake. I was tricked, just like you were.”

I said, “That was no mistake. It was a carefully planned and willfully executed act of revenge.”

She wailed tearfully. “I have never loved anybody like I love you. That’s why I behaved so foolishly.”

I actually believed her. Her history with men and her passionate nature had conspired to do her in. Zoe is an intelligent and normally practical woman. Her judgement would have to have been knocked badly out of kilter if she gave herself to that slimy piece of shit.

I felt a gratifying sense of irony. It must be truly excruciating to find out that your downfall was engineered by the guy you just fucked. But I did a really poor job of disguising my heartbreak as I said, “I’m going out on the boat. Please lock up when you leave.”

And I closed the door on the best thing that had happened to me in my pathetically average life. 

I wasn’t really going to the boat. I had something a lot more delectable in mind – revenge!!! So, I drove back over to Alice’s place.

Okay – I know she’s a slut. But, totally uncomplicated Alice was a breath of fresh air after all the skullduggery. And frankly I wanted to kick off the ball as soon as possible.

She might have been manipulated into it. But Alice was the actual cause of my misery. So I wanted a down payment on what she owed me. I didn’t intend to hurt her. Just get a few things straight – one of which was going to be Old Lucifer jammed as far as I could inside her.

Basically!! I wanted my own revenge fuck. And knowing Alice I was absolutely certain that the word would instantly get back to Zoe. I hoped it hurt her as much as she’d hurt me.

Alice was delighted. She was still wearing the same robe. She smiled wantonly as she opened the door. And as soon as I was on the other side of it she pressed herself against me. Her robe had fallen completely open and one of those giant bouncers was wedged between my bicep and my chest.

So I reached up with my left hand, cupped it and ran my fingers over the already pronounced nipple. It was huge!!

She shivered all over her body, cried out with sensation grabbed me by the back of the head and plastered her wide open mouth on mine.

Did I fuck her then? Please???!!

I mean seriously, Alice’s body is like Disneyland, so much concentrated fun in one place that it would be criminal not to enter it. Even if I had NOT wanted to start the payback process.

I just took her hand and led her to her little bedroom.  

It was interesting, the impression that you get about Alice is that she is a lightweight, almost naïve in her world-view. But if you have to deal with her in her natural habitat you will find out that she is a fearsome, single minded jungle creature.

Zoe has a hard compact body, which is active and very nimble in bed. Alice is so abundantly endowed that she gets the job done with raw horsepower. The robe came completely off as she shoved me backward on the bed.  

Then she straddled me while plastering those big floating breasts on my chest. She was trying to unzip me when I said, “Condom?”

She broke the kiss, panting like a bloodhound on a hot southern porch. She reached down, grabbed her robe, and rummaged around in the pocket. Then she produced the little foil packet with a triumphant smile. It was like she never went anywhere without one.

I shoved my pants and underwear down my legs and shucked my t-shirt while she rolled the rubber on like an expert. Then she raised herself up, did a little maneuvering with Old Lucifer and sank back down with a deep guttural groan.

She was very hot and wet. But it was like entering the Grand Canyon – impressively vast and a little bit intimidating. Needless to say I arrived at the top without delay.

I grabbed a handful of her impressive booty and pulled her to me so hard that her clit was in constant contact with my pubic bone. She shrieked with lust and began an up-and-down motion that brought her to a gushing orgasm in about two minutes flat.

I had really not gotten started. And since it was a little loose in there anyhow, I thought that it might take a while. So in order to arrange things to get the best angle of attack I said, “Turn around.”

Alice assumed the position like the seasoned pro that she was. She was kneeling on the bed, face down with her arms extended over her head, legs wide and presenting her butt for ease of access. She also kept looking over her shoulder at me with a smoking hot “fuck me” stare.

I was considering hitting her little rosebud. I thought it might be a bit tighter than her prodigious box. But that would be sharing more intimacy with Alice than I wanted. So I slid into the conventional place instead.

Actually it was more like falling into it. I was instantly pressed against her pillowy cheeks. They were soft, not rock hard like Zoë’s. And thus, when I hit bottom my arrival set off ripples all the way up to her surprisingly narrow waist.

Alice was more-or-less in constant orgasm at that point, moaning, shrieking, grunting and pounding the bed with her fist as each contraction hit her.

I had to admit that she was an insanely good fuck, enthusiastic and very giving. 

For my part, I was a man possessed. I wanted to get myself off so that I could get to the enjoyable task of killing Piccardi.

The problem was that between the copious lubrication and the – shall we say - “roomy” nature of what I was pounding into, I couldn’t get enough traction to make anything happen.

I finally worked myself around so that I was touching something. Unfortunately, that was her g-spot. And that drove her totally nuts. She was slamming her ass back at me so hard that it literally flattened out as we collided.

And she was shrieking, “AHHH – JESUS- FUCK ME!!!” so loud that I was going to be embarrassed exiting the building, if not the entire block.

But it got the job done. And I was surprised at how hard I came. As I did, she started yelling, “OH GAWD, GIVE IT TO ME BABY!!! ALL OF IT!!!” And she started moving her hips around in wide circles like she was processing another monster orgasm. 

I slid out of her with the same sound you would make pulling your boot out of the mud. She lay with her face on her arms. Her butt was still raised in presentation position but she was mainly just trying to catch her breath.

She finally turned to a sitting position on the bed. There was no need worrying about getting it messy. It was as messy as it could ever get.

She said, “Wow lover!!! What brought THAT on?”

I said, “I just wanted you to know that, while I was waiting for you to get home Zoe gave your greasy friend Piccardi a revenge fuck. So I am done with her and she is moving out.”

Alice looked appalled. She said with real anguish in her voice, “Did I cause that?”

Okay – she’s a slut but it appeared that there wasn’t a mean bone in her body.

I said maybe a little over-cruel, “You most certainly DID.” I was pulling on my pants and t-shirt as I said it.

She said almost weeping, “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

I said, “Probably not.”

As I turned to leave she started crying. She whimpered, “Does this mean I’ll never see you again?”

As I walked out the door I said, “That depends.”

I was finished with romance, but it didn’t mean I was done with sex. I knew I’d be back for more. And I would gladly take it from Alice since it was just that – sex.

Zoe wasn’t there when I got back. She left me a note. It said, “I was a fool. And I am yours if you can ever forgive me. I will stay as far away from you as possible. And please stay away from me. It just hurts too much!” 

Whatever!!!!

It didn’t matter to me. I was a robot now – totally devoid of feelings. The students hated it because I was no longer a sucker for their sad stories. I saw Zoe several times at meetings. We avoided each other’s eyes. I heard that she had a little apartment in Farmingdale proper. I was pleased that she had moved on. I didn’t hear anything about men in her life. But I never talked to anybody about her.

The end of the semester eventually arrived. I had been on a remorseless, night and day crusade. Obsession is a very negative place. But it DOES focus your thinking.

Every time I saw Piccardi he smirked. Maybe he was banging Zoe – who knew. More importantly, who cared. They couldn’t touch me. But I was going to touch Piccardi in a way that would even the score – and then I was going to move on.

I am not in the social class that settles things by kicking people’s asses. It might be short term satisfying – even if I was capable of doing it. And I might even stay out of jail.

But the thing of it is - I like to give the gift that keeps on giving. I want my revenge to be the sort of present that the recipient would remember for the rest of their miserable life.

Alice was sitting at her desk looking formal and professional when I arrived for my meeting with the Dean.

She was the paradox that was Alice. If you only saw her at work, you would think that she was the world’s most proper and efficient secretary. She deals with people who come to the Dean’s Office in a very cool and contained way - almost standoffish both in person and on the phone.

And sitting behind her big secretary’s desk with all of the modern paraphernalia –which she worked like a seasoned professional -  she was an incredibly beautiful, almost magnetic, woman.

I hear that she is hit on relentlessly by any male who might idly wander past the Office. But the rumor is that she is the “ice queen” when she is working.

There were also some rumors that the Dean was fucking her. Which wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility given Alice’s peculiar tastes. But there was never anything concrete to substantiate that.

I expected a friendly greeting since I had been banging the shit out of her most of the night before. But she smiled demurely and gestured to a seat. She said, “The Dean will be with you presently.”

Then when the phone light went off she rose, straightened her skirt, and walked into his Office. Even in a suit jacket and pencil skirt the view was spectacular. I heard voices and she came back looking prim. She said, “The Dean will see you now.”

The Dean reminded me of a weasel, small, skinny almost sinuous, sharp pointed nose and little glittering eyes. He said, “What can I for you Jonathon?” The tone of voice was mild boredom.

I said, “I have evidence of serious malfeasance on the part of one of your staff members. Which may lead to a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

THAT snapped him out of his boredom. Those little glittery eyes focused on me with intensity. Any suit of that nature would be a PR disaster and depending on the circumstances might even threaten his OWN position.

I said, “Here are four notarized depositions that I have gathered. They are from four female students and they all involve the actions of Antonio Piccardi who is an Assistant in the Registrar’s Office.

If the Dean had whiskers I would have seen them twitch. Instead his eyes narrowed. He had probably heard some of the rumors concerning Piccardi. He also probably knew my history with the varmint.

The Dean said, “That’s very strange behavior on your part Jonathon. Why would you stir up that kind of trouble?”

He knew darn well why. But he was testing my hand.

I said, perfectly straight faced although I was flat-out lying, “A female student came to me distraught. Apparently she was unable to take a class that she needed. And Mr. Piccardi used his influence to arrange for to her get into it.”

The Deans eyes continued to narrow, so I added, “But he also forced her into a sexual liaison in return. And then threatened to tell her parents when she tried to end it. It’s all here in this deposition – and I handed him the first one.”

What I had told him was a lie. I had worked diligently to track down four coeds who Piccardi had fucked. I got their names through extensive mining of the campus rumor-mill.

Then I confronted each one of them. They were more than happy to cooperate. Apparently Piccardi is a real asshole when it comes to any woman he has fucked.

But more relevantly, the female students might have been led to believe that I was operating in a semi-official capacity. I didn’t deny it.

I paid a lawyer to depose each of them. He smelled blood on the water so he was very-very thorough.

Essentially, what I had done was put the Dean and the University in a rock-and-a-hard-place.

The Dean is the chief academic officer. But he is essentially just a bureaucrat. He might have known about the incidents. And he would have buried each and every one of them if he did. But now, the cat was well-and-truly out of the bag. So if he didn’t act he would essentially be condoning sexual harassment.

And nobody in modern academia wants to have that millstone hung around their neck.

The Dean glanced through the depositions. Then he looked at me with a certain amount of calculation. He was trying to figure out what it would take to make this all go away.

He said, “Well Jonathon – this is very thorough. Commendable work on your part.”

In this politically correct universe he had to say that. He probably hated my guts for lighting the fire under his seat. But it didn’t bother me. I was going to a new place anyhow.

I said, “I hope you are willing to do the responsible thing with Mr. Piccardi?”

I didn’t need to outline my demands but I did anyhow. It just felt so delightful saying it.

I said, “According to the sexual harassment policy, which was approved by the Faculty Senate. There is no other option than immediate dismissal for cause. And the reason has to be noted on any future references.”

I had to throw that in. I wanted to let the Dean know that the pack of over-entitled, prima-donnas who counterbalanced his authority on campus would be hearing about the situation.

That is - if he didn’t do what I requested.

And given the number of mean, razor carrying bitches in the leadership of that group; the last thing the Dean wanted was to stir them up.

Moreover, he knew that I would take that step if I didn’t get exactly what I wanted – which was Piccardi frog-marched off campus and the door slammed on any further career in academe.

I accepted that it wouldn’t hurt Piccardi financially. He could always go back to the family’s criminal enterprise. But being suddenly and unceremoniously banished from campus would be a huge blow to his ego.

Especially if I was standing there gloating as it happened.

The Dean was clearly very angry at me. He said, “We’ll have to have a hearing about this.”

I said, “You have the depositions. If you would like I can have Bob Swift give you a call to discuss the implications. He was the one who deposed Piccardi’s victims.”

That was the first time I had used the “V” word and it had its intended effect on the Dean.

Swift was the most ferocious ambulance chaser in Nassau County. So using the word “victim” and “implications” in the same sentence as “Swift” got the message across. I wanted Piccardi terminated with extreme prejudice and I wanted it now!!!

Two hours later I was standing on the steps of the Administration Building as Piccardi was escorted out by three security guards.

He looked in my direction. I gave him a gloating sneer powered by all of the contempt and hatred I felt for him. He had deprived me of the love of my life. And now I was depriving him of his miserable career. Checkmate!!!

As far as I was concerned exiling him didn’t come close to balancing the scale. But I’m a pragmatist and I knew it was the best I could get.

He started to turn toward me. At which point the guard on each side grabbed an arm and propelled him a little too forcefully toward the parking lot. I laughed mockingly as he was dragged off.

I knew that my humble little act of revenge had set sold all of my stock with the University administration. But it was worth it just to witness that scenario. And it was time for me to move on anyhow.

I had been dropping lines in the pond since Zoe had self-destructed her way out of my life. And I was surprised at how many places were interested.

I finally worked out a deal to transfer – rank and tenure and all - to a University in Northwest Washington DC. It had an excellent School of International Studies and I could move my boat down to a little marina in the Anacostia River. In short it was ideal.

But I had a problem. Over the past few months, Alice had been growing on me. And against all common sense, I wanted to take her with me.

In the beginning she had been nothing more than a convenient receptacle to work out my own anger and betrayal issues. She made no demands. She was always happy to see me. She was devoted. And she provided loving companionship any time I wanted it.

In short – she was Buster.

But where Buster and Alice differed was in her incredible body. And the fact that she was willing to fuck me in more interesting ways than the Empress Theodora on MDMA.

Okay – Alice was still not a sparkling conversationalist. But after we started hanging out she stopped talking so much. I think she was just doing that because she was nervous.

And watching her expand her world-view was like taking your kid to the zoo.

The time I spent going to new places with Alice was like showing a bright and eager child a brave new world. And Alice might have been more insatiable about experiences than she was about sex. There was nothing she saw that didn’t produce wonder and squeals of delight.

I was also beginning to think that Alice might not be as dumb as I had initially thought. In fact, there were random flashes of sheer brilliance in things that she said and did that made me wonder if she was not so much stupid, as she was immature. Which brought out the Henry Higgins in me.

Alice was only 25. She was raised by a single mom who worked long hours as a waitress - throughout her upbringing. As a result, Alice didn’t have much in the way of adult guidance. And she had never spent any time outside of the Bethpage-Farmingdale area.

She might be incredibly sophisticated in sexual matters. But she didn’t have to open her mind very far to learn how to spread her legs. She obviously liked sex – A LOT. But as I got to know her it almost seemed like she used sex simply to gain approval.

It was like she thought the only thing of value that she had to offer was her incredible body. And so she was using it as currency to for acceptance.

Which simply wasn’t true. Alice had made it through a vocational high school with high marks. That was why she had what amounted-to an administrative assistant’s skill-set. And everybody at the University considered her an extremely capable secretary.

It was clear that Alice was pathetically eager to please. Which was no-doubt due to a massive load of childhood insecurities. But her ability to lead two totally different lives seemed less schizoid, as was an odd quirk.

Interestingly though, she had one even odder quirk. Which was a REAL paradox given the fact that Alice was more of a home-wrecker than a home-maker.

Alice absolutely loved children.

Whenever she was around kids – be they children of her friends – or ones that were simply walking down the street – she would be energized and totally focused. In fact, nurturing children was the one thing that she did better than office work – and of course - fucking.

She had told me that she wanted at least a dozen kids.

She made that pronouncement in her usual brainless fashion; while doing something complicated involving her legs on my shoulders. It knocked me completely off stride and nearly shriveled me right out of her.

But it also made me think that perhaps there was a powerful, but as yet unexplored river running somewhere deep down in her psyche.

She even claimed that she had given up her extracurricular activities to be with me.

It was sort of naively endearing that she thought that I gave a shit about who else she was fucking, since I still always wore a condom. Nonetheless, I DID notice that she had gotten a lot tighter over the past couple of months. And Alice-the-capable-secretary tended to make appearances more frequently outside of working hours.

We rarely went out. I was afraid people might think we were a couple. And she was always happy to just hang around her apartment and fuck.

But once in a while I would guilt myself into taking her to dinner. I mean if you use someone as cynically as I did Alice, you might get concerned that it reflected badly on you.

At first it was cheap chain restaurants. But as time went by the restaurants got more-and-more up-scale.  And during that time Alice developed from a common whore to a much more refined version of her former self.

For one thing she began to dress like a grown-up, not a teenager. I think she got her fashion tips from observing other women. But wherever she got her ideas from, she was turning into a stunner now.

It all came together one night in early spring. I planned to take her to Waterzooi over in Garden City. I chose places slightly out of the area because I didn’t want to run into anybody I knew. It is a nice little Bistro with Belgian food and a reputation for wine.

We had dinner reservations for 7:30. So I knocked on her door at 6:45. She opened the door and let me in looking nervous. The minute I saw her I knew why.

Alice was trying out a new incarnation of herself.

It was “Classy-Alice.” She looked stylish and chic – and I might add beautiful. 

Alice’s body would give Michelangelo’s David a hard-on.  She has an amazing shape, slim where it should be and outrageous in all the other places. She was wearing a good quality wool blend little black dress, not too short in the leg and comparatively modestly scooped in the front.

Underneath, she must have been wearing an industrial strength bra. Because her tits were bottled-up into two massive pillows at her modest neckline. That effect was sexy, rather than slutty. the whole outfit looked tasteful and understated in an earth-goddess kind of way.

But the real wonder was her face. Alice only wears makeup at work. And I was not sure she even knew how to use it correctly. But she obviously did. Because she had gone all-out for me.

She has a classic girl next door face.

Yes… I said, “Girl next door.”

What do you call a face that is round, with perfectly even features, a button nose, pretty little mouth and huge cornflower blue eyes? She even has a dusting of freckles. She finishes the impression off with a short cap of thick, naturally curly blond hair.

Like I said, “Girl next door!!!”

Any stranger who saw Alice in this new incarnation would be blown away by her sheer beauty. I just stood there gaping.

She read that as disapproval and said panicked, “I’m sorry!! I can change!!!”

I blurted, “By all means DON’T change!!! You are gorgeous!!”

She turned almost purple with embarrassment. It suddenly dawned on me that I had never complimented her. In fact, maybe nobody had EVER given her a compliment – except perhaps after an exceptionally well executed blowjob.

The restaurant itself was an experience. From the moment we walked in I was aware that I had just shown up with the most eye-catching woman to grace that place in a while. Heads turned, men stared, women seethed with jealousy. The Maître’d fell all over himself seating us.

There were a couple of younger, very good looking men who were eyeing Alice like she was the main course. I had a sudden flashback to our time in Port Jefferson. I was totally bewildered by the lightning bolt of jealousy that shot through me.

How in the world could I be getting possessive of Alice?!!!

The better looking of the two finally came over to our table. He had the good grace to extend his hand and introduce himself to me first. But it was obvious that he was there to talk to Alice.

He regarded her politely and said, “I know that this sounds like the world’s oldest line. But I have the oddest feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

Alice looked composed as she said, “Of course you do Tim. We spent four years in high school together.”

He looked totally shocked and said, “It was a small class. And I don’t remember you.”

She said in her Alice-the-competent-secretary tone of voice, “You probably wouldn’t remember me Tim. You were the rich big-man-on-campus and I was just a girl from the trailer park.”

Then you could see it dawning on him. And he couldn’t believe his eyes. He stammered, “Alice Whithers??”

She grinned and said, “In the flesh. And if I remember correctly there was a lot more flesh showing when you last saw me. It was the back seat of your dad’s car if I recall correctly?”

She dropped that bombshell with cat-like composure.

I thought to myself, “Is she actually trying to take a piece off this guy?”

Whatever it was it worked. He blushed and beat a hasty retreat back to his own table. He and his friend talked animatedly for a few seconds and they both swiveled their heads to gaze wonderingly at Alice. Who was just sitting there looking serenely self-confident.

She turned to me and said dismissively, “High school boys.” They looked more like stock brokers to me but I was not going to argue.

We talked about her growing up all through dinner. I had never asked Alice anything about her life. I realized with embarrassment that my total disinterest in her history was one of the many gestures of disrespect that I had made toward her.

So I said, “I really want to get to know you better. Tell me about your life.”

She had been born and raised in a trailer. Not even a double-wide. She claimed she had a happy childhood, even though her mother wasn’t around much.

Alice smirked and said, “And when mother WAS around I got a real education in sex through those thin walls.”

I thought of a pubescent girl lying there listening to the loud sounds of fucking night-after-night. And it gave me a much better understanding why Alice defined all of her social interactions in sexual terms.

She said, “I knew that I would have to lean a trade if I was going to ever be able to get out of there. So I worked and studied real hard in secretarial school. And when I graduated I got my job at the University.”

She added as an afterthought, “Of course everybody I ever worked for wanted to fuck me.”

She said it like that was standard business practice.

Then she went on with, “I would have fucked them. It was just sex after all. But I knew it was not appropriate. I learned that in my business ethics class in Voc. School.”

I smiled at that. She must have said the same thing to every boss who ever tried to bend her over a desk. It was as if she was reciting a Sunday school lesson.

Then – for the first time in perhaps forever - I looked in her eyes. She was smiling her usual vacuous smile. But her big cornflower blue eyes were carefully studying me. And shockingly, the person behind them was highly intelligent and shrewdly focused.

It hit me in a blinding flash of insight – SHE’S PLAYING ME!!! And I knew in that split second that the Alice that the world saw was a total fabrication.

All-in-all I had to respect a woman that ingenious. Nobody would EVER suspect that a poor ignorant slut like Alice would be treacherous.  Even the sex was phony. She wasn’t mindlessly slutty. She had adopted the perfect camouflage. Nobody took her seriously. And nobody EVER suspected her of surreptitiously controlling events.

Alice’s big tits and harmless demeanor let her con every male into doing anything she wanted. And women were vulnerable to her manipulating because they thought that she was brainless.

It was the fact that she was starting to fall in love with me that had let me catch a glimpse of the woman behind the screen. Maybe she had never let anybody get that close before.

The Real-Alice was feral. She prevailed through wit and cunning. She must have built the persona that everybody saw to protect herself. Nevertheless, the person underneath that brainless exterior was a serious danger to anybody who got in her way.

I was beginning to sense that I was sitting across the table from a woman who was slightly more manipulative than Machiavelli himself.

And that led to the final realization!!! It sickened me.

I looked at her with sincerity and said, “This is all bullshit isn’t it Alice? You did this. You broke Zoe and me up for some reason. What was it?”

Poor simple Fake-Alice was sitting there looking horrified. She said, with tears forming in her innocent childlike eyes, “That’s just plain mean. How could you say something like that? Why are you picking on me?” And one crystal tear ran down her cheek to plop on the tablecloth.

I looked disgusted and said, “Can it Alice! I KNOW now!!! You stage-managed every aspect of this. Even Piccardi. Did you give him the idea to ask Zoe out?”

A shadow passed across her eyes. I had hit her with it so unexpectedly that she did not have the time to get to full DEFCON 1.

I knew it!!!

I said, “You figured out that I would be devastated and you correctly guessed that I would turn to you as a way to retaliate – right? If not, you probably had contingencies planned.”

Cracks began to appear in her façade. She got a sly look on her face. It was like a fox contemplating a particularly delectable hen. It was the scariest thing I ever saw.

I said, “That gangbang in the parking lot. It was meant to get my attention wasn’t it? You wanted to kick start my thinking about sex with you. You were showing me what it was like.  It was all a cold bloodedly calculated on your part – wasn’t it?”

She smiled wickedly and said, “It worked didn’t it, lover?”

I continued with, “And the shit you laid on Zoe - that was your idea – not Piccardi’s. He just went along with it because he wanted into Zoe’s pants.”

Then I stopped and said, “Which one of you knew Zoe’s history? It strikes me that Piccardi isn’t bright enough to control the subsequent events so artfully.”

Real-Alice was beginning to show herself now. It was a disconcertingly powerful kind of intelligence. She hissed, “I did!! Of course!!!”

She laughed dismissively and said, “I got the silly bitch’s backstory as soon as she arrived on campus. It’s funny what a sister will tell a sister if she is on the right wavelength about men.

She focused on me and said, “So I knew EXACTLY what would happen if it looked like you had betrayed her.”

She grinned outright as she said, “Piccardi is the dumbest shit I know. He had a huge cock. But that must have been where all the blood was – it was certainly not in his brain.”

I said with wonder in my voice, “So we are sitting here at this particular point in time because you put us here. Why did you do it Alice? What did you possibly hope to gain?”

She said with a little laugh, “Why YOU – silly!! You will be the perfect husband, smart, good provider, hard-working, great in bed. And I want children – lots of them. And I think you would make the world’s best dad.”

All very deliberate. I felt like the proverbial puppy in the window. She had seen me, thought I was cute and bought me. What kind of fool was I???!!

Real-Alice was as close to a genuine succubus as anybody I had ever met. The amusement and superiority plastered on those plump kissable lips stirred something down deep in my Lizard Brain. And if we were not sitting in a four-star restaurant I would have probably slammed her down on the table, and fucked her right there.

Did you ever feel like you had dodged a bullet?

Thinking about what I had planned to tell her that night sent shivers down my spine. I was going to ask her to come to DC with me. That was the whole point of the evening

Of course that was when I thought of her as a brood mare – not Himmler’s granddaughter.

Fact was that she was beautiful, remarkably sexy, and eager to please – perhaps a little untrustworthy in the faithfulness department – and clearly a total sociopath. But she also offered a lot of advantages to a man.

She was clearly much smarter than I was. And I knew that she would ensure that my every sexual need would be utterly sated. Plus, she would no doubt be able to dispose of any inconvenient people without leaving finger-prints.

More important, I had always wanted children. So the concept of Alice and me and a house full of kids was very attractive.

The problem was that she was so skillfully manipulative that I was afraid that I might end up in a place like Guantanamo if I disagreed with her over something simple; like the color to paint the dining room.

In effect an offer to bring her to DC with me would have been like proposing marriage to a human incarnation of a Black Widow spider.

So, I made a slight adjustment to the plan on the fly. When we got back to her place I made a big show of turning Alice around to face me. I took both of her hands in mine, looked lovingly into her eyes. From the flare of excitement, I think she thought I was going to propose.

Instead I said, “I know that I burned all of my bridges at this university. It was worth it to get Piccardi. But I am done here. So I have taken a new position in DC. I’ll be leaving at the end of next week.”

She squirmed with excitement. I said, drawing out the punch line, “You have made my life very happy these past several months. I just want you to know that.”

She could hear wedding bells. So I said with boy-scout sincerity, “And I will always be grateful to you for the way that you propped me up after the devastating loss of the love of my life. I will never forget you.”

Then I quickly kissed her on the forehead, turned and walked out the door. I heard an agonized gasp behind me.  All I could think as I walked back to my car was, “I hope that gives you the happy ending that you so painstakingly connived you duplicitous Bitch!!!”

Epilog

Zoe was sitting on the portside bench drinking a cold Yuengling. I was navigated our way out into the Potomac. She was her usual pretty vibrant funny self, full of joy and energy. It was a classic sunny DC Sunday. And in the words of Robert Browning, “God was in his heaven and all was right with the world.”

I appeared on Zoe’s doorstep the next morning. She was overjoyed. That was a pleasant surprise. Given that I had more-or-less completely blown her off. And then spent the next two months fucking her arch-rival. If it were me I would have gotten out the dueling pistols.

But Zoe is a better person than I am. I explained everything sitting over breakfast coffee. She didn’t seem surprised. She is also a lot more perceptive than I am.

No shit??!!! The faces chiseled on Mount Rushmore are more perceptive than I am.

She said that Alice had gone out of her way to “befriend” her the moment it became obvious that the two of us were a couple. And that behavior just didn’t seem right.

Zoe had thought that Alice was a little over the top when it came to her warnings about me – and the number of hearts that I had broken on campus. Still, Alice had been at the University for a long time and as far as Zoe knew I might just be putting up a front.

So when Alice came to her after that fateful weekend with the, “I told you so”, pitch. It just reinforced the months she had spent whispering into Zoe’s ear. And predictably, all Zoe could see was the second coming of the arch-traitor Charlie Riley.

So she snapped.

She had loved Charlie to a fault. And he had betrayed her by marrying another woman. Then against her better judgement she had fallen even more deeply in love with me. And I had committed an even more grievous sin in her eyes.

It was the sin of familiarity.

At least in Charlie’s case Zoe didn’t know the other woman. But she knew Alice. And she knew what kind of a woman she was. So besides the pain of loss, she also had the humiliation of having a well-known slut like Alice gloat about her imaginary weekend with me.

Which put her in an absolute state of frenzy. 

It was really quite understandable. That was because I had personal acquaintance with that exact same emotion. It was the same kind of all-consuming rage that had motivated me to go off with Alice in the first place.

And likewise, Zoe had marched over and given a very surprised Piccardi the fucking of his life.

She realized right away that was the dumbest possible thing that she could have done. But Zoe is a strong minded woman, with a lot of pride. And she couldn’t just let a grievous insult sit without an appropriate response.

Like I said, she’s a feisty little bitch.  

So two allegedly intelligent people had managed to cram a lifetime of miscommunication and bad choices into a single half year. And we had each suffered a lot of self-inflicted pain.

In view of that, we both made a solemn vow. The cycle would stop - permanently – now and forever. And we would agree to love each other – and only each other – for the rest of our lives.

I didn’t ask what she had been doing in the four months since that fateful day. It was really none of my business. It wasn’t like we were married – or even solidly committed when we parted company. In fact, in all the time we had known each other we had only been an officially committed couple for about 36 hours. 

Nonetheless – no matter how objective I knew I had to be about our situation. I still can’t tell you how relieved I was to discover that Zoe wasn’t entertaining Piccardi when I showed up on her doorstep.

And it didn’t take long for the old spark to flare back into an all-consuming fire.  That led me to invite her to try out living arrangements in DC.

I had sold the house and bought a very comfortable condo up on Massachusetts Avenue - up toward the National Cathedral. The place was willing to accept Buster and I could walk to campus most days. Zoe still had her position in Farmingdale. But it would not be difficult for her to find a place in DC. And her not being tenured would make the switch easy.

She was going to make a couple of campus visits the following week to see what she could line up. It was very late in the hiring season but any place that still had openings would jump at the chance to get a research star like her.

If not, there was always next year and she could stay in DC and write. We were never going to be apart.

We had talked about what it would take for the two of us to make it work. And we both agreed that the only nonnegotiable condition was that we communicate – for better, or worse, under all circumstances.

That meant that if we heard, or saw anything that raised a question; we would get it out on the table right away and resolve it. There would be no, “just assuming” and there would be no secrets kept for the other person’s “own good.”

Miscommunication had been the lever that had pried us apart. And both of us were determined to not let any misunderstanding lead us down the road to perdition again.

Both of us had been guilty of that crime. We had both suffered from the consequences and we were both smart enough to not let it happen again.

We had immediately fallen into our same close bond. But if you will recall, with the lone exception of the Sunday night before the great upheaval we had never actually slept together. So there were a few wedding night jitters when we went to bed that night.

We had lived with each other for months. But this was unexplored territory, since we were planning to sleep in the same bed. And this time permanently.

It was the usual nasty hot and humid DC July. We had done dinner at Clyde’s in Georgetown and driven back past the Naval Observatory to my place.

She came out of the bathroom in a long t-shirt. That was what she slept in. I knew that there was nothing underneath. I was wearing my usual boxers. She slid in next to me looking excited. I think we both considered this our official “moving in together” night.

The wedding would be some time in the indeterminate future. But I was never going to lose her.

She was looking at me intently. Most guys would call it a “fuck me” stare. But it was more than that with Zoe. It was like she was psychically merging herself with me. I kissed her and those incredible lips started to work their magic.

I have never been with a woman who is so energetic – so constantly active during sex. Every part of her seems to be in motion.

But it is the complex way that she works on your mouth with those amazing lips that is so characteristic and remarkable. When you kiss her whole mouth comes alive. She is continuously chewing on your lips with hers, she even nips in between. It is an electrifyingly energetic giving of one of her secret places.

She moaned loudly when I kissed her. I guess those initial inhibitions were just a passing fancy. I worked my way down her neck – doing a little nipping of my own.

In response, she writhed and sank her bright red painted nails into my back. I got to the perfect little nipples on her pert breasts and took one of those red-hot things between my lips and did the same kind of chewing and nibbling thing that she had done to me earlier.

Zoe arched her back, yelled, “OH MY GAWD.” And hyperventilated. She said in very strained tones, “Get up here and fuck me!!!”

But I considered this a milestone. We had done it before. But this was the first time we were going to do it as a permanently committed couple. And I wanted to savor it.

Zoe had arranged herself so that I was kneeling between her widely spread legs. She had her back propped up on a pillow and was breathing like she had just finished the 100-yard dash. 

I looked in those gorgeous eyes. They were wide open and staring back at me with challenge. And overwhelming need. Her eyes went wide as I entered her and she gave a little gasp. But she didn’t break the stare.

As I slid up into her we were communicating that we understood. Mistakes had been made and pain had been caused. Neither of us would venture down that road again.

Her eyes clouded and lust took over. She let out a loud groan and wrapped those sturdy legs of hers around my butt and literally pulled me in to her cervix. Then she shot them straight up in the air like she was riding a horse.

And as the age old motion began she traded the horse for a bicycle. Her legs were making frantic circular kicking motions. It was uncanny. She was lying underneath me moaning and yowling while her legs were going wild in the air behind me.

Like I said, every part of Zoe moves during sex.

That didn’t last long of course. She started a constant chant of “Yes-oh yes-yeah-yeah-yeah.” That got louder until it culminated in a, “YES!!!! OH FUCK YES!!!” Her legs slammed down on the bed and her passage went nuts. She lay under me moaning and writhing to my own exciting climax.

When we had gotten our breath back I looked into those beautiful eyes. I was supporting myself on my arms still buried deep inside of her. She was looking at me with true devotion. I said, “That was extraordinary. I’m just a very ordinary guy. But I’m Superman with you.”

She put her arms around my neck and gave me the same “fuck-me” stare that she had been giving me when this all got started. But I really understood what she was saying this time.

I smiled and said, “You and me as a couple are infinitely more than what we are as individuals. And I need you to promise me that you will be mine forever – will you do that?”

She put on a fake look of puzzlement and said with a mirthful little chuckle, “Why sir! I don’t’ know? What are you asking me?”

I grinned and said, “Marry me you twit!! Let’s do it now. Both of us are kind of stupid when it comes to each other. So I want to put a ring on your finger to prevent any future misunderstandings.”

And the following week I married the one person in this world whose love made me special. 

 

 


© Copyright 2017 DT Iverson. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Great Reading

Popular Tags