Der Witwer The Widower
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Der Witwer (the Widower)Chapter 2 free porn video
To scream at Steve and let him know how he felt at that moment would have been Kevin's gut level response, but he managed to restrain himself.
He didn't really shout. He didn't really throw the emails.
It took Kevin a second before his lawyer's training kicked in, and he backed off from the fantasy. He instantly understood that if he revealed his cards to Steve now, he would never have the kind of retribution he wanted against this monster.
Kevin's mind went into overdrive at Steve's revelation. His fiancée? The past year? The depth of betrayal that Steve was capable of increased by an unheard of order-of-magnitude in Kevin's mind.
This man was literally betraying everyone around him all at the same time, Kevin realized.
He was betraying his best friend by seducing his wife, and fucking her for close to a year. He was betraying Jessica, because he was leading her on, to the point where she was willing to risk it all for this worthless scum. Jessica planned on leaving her husband for him for god's sake. And he was also betraying his fiancée, who he had asked to marry him — claiming she was the love of his life, while he carried on an affair with another woman. Staggering.
The idle question touched Kevin's fevered brain: when the hell did this guy have the time to get any work done? He filed that thought for later.
Kevin dragged his mind back to the present, to do what he knew, as a lawyer, would do the most good. It was like preparing a lawsuit. Don't be angry, don't be hasty. Plan. Get a strategy together. Only then, act.
The first thing Kevin needed was more information.
He glanced at Steve, who by then had noticed that Kevin was staring into space again.
There was a moment of panic when Kevin realized that the stack of emails was still sitting on the end table next to his chair, right out in the open where Steve could see them, if he looked.
"Hey, Steve, sorry. I'm so easily distracted these days. Could you do me a favor and get me a refill on the wine?" he asked, oozing sincere, exhausted, helplessness.
"Glad to," Steve replied, grabbing both the glasses and heading for the kitchen.
The instant that Steve was out of sight, Kevin scooped up the printouts and rushed them into his office, where he placed a couple of legal reference books atop the incriminating documents.
"Where'd you go?" Kevin heard from the living room.
Kevin walked back into the living room.
"Sorry, I thought that my stomach ... you know. It seemed like a good idea to get to a bathroom real quick but it was just a belch," he explained, for the first time he could remember intentionally lying to his former friend. It didn't cause him the slightest guilt.
Kevin came to a quick decision.
"Steve, I think you're right. I need to get away from here, and going up to a remote mountain cabin sounds better than anything I could imagine. I'm not going to intrude on you and your fiancée am I?"
"No, no. I told you, the place is huge — three stories tall. It was made to allow up to a dozen hunters to stay there at one time. We are in the master suite, on one side of the lodge, and we can put you on the other side of the place. It's a separate suite with its own sitting room, a large bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a full bath. And you won't bother us. In fact, it was Francesca who suggested that I try to get you to join us, so you wouldn't be on your own down here."
"That was really considerate of her," Kevin answered, the outline of a plan for revenge coming together in his mind, even as he spoke. "When do you want to leave?"
"We could be out of here this afternoon, if you wanted," Steve replied.
"I would need maybe two-and-a-half hours to pack and call work to let them know what I'm doing. Would that work?"
"Absolutely. Then I'll take off and go check out my place, make sure every thing's alright. I'll come back in, say, three hours, and we'll be on our way," Steve said agreeably, heading for the door.
It turned out that three hours was more than adequate time for Kevin to prepare.
The trip to Steven's vacation hideaway was excruciatingly long for Kevin.
LAX to Denver, a regional turbo-prop to Rapid City, South Dakota, then pick up Steve's rental car from the long-term parking. From Rapid City south by freeway almost to Hot Springs in the Black Hills. Then on to secondary roads, to a twenty-mile-long improved gravel road. Another five-mile drive on a dirt road, past the ranch manager's place, and finally four miles to the lodge. They weren't kidding when they said 'isolated'.
What made it so excruciating was that the whole trip Kevin was forced to listen to Steve going on and on extolling the many virtues, great beauty, the extraordinary intelligence and charm, oh, and did he remember to mention the breathtaking beauty of Francesca. His fiancée.
How she walked into the party being held by Steve's firm about a year ago, and captivated Steve from that moment on. The weeks that he'd spent trying to convince her to go out on a first date with him. The months of trying to advance the relationship past the 'just friends' stage. And at last, the repeated proposals, wearing her down until she saw the light and said 'yes'! That, only the month before.
It was past 11:00 PM when they finally crawled out of the car, and dragged Kevin's bags into the lodge. Steve had called Francesca earlier. (It turned out that they had a satellite phone with them so they could receive phone calls, but no one in L.A. knew the number, except Steve's boss.) Steve told her not to stay up, they would arrive late.
She didn't pay Steve the slightest attention of course, and was awaiting their arrival.
Her entrance was, as clichéd as it might sound, dramatic.
Steve and Kevin were standing in the entry foyer, and Kevin was taking in his first impressions of the lodge.
The entryway was the full three-stories high, with a wide staircase descending from the second floor down towards the front door. Kevin took stock in the light given off by a single large crystal chandelier hanging above the center of the entryway.
The walls were replete with hunting trophies from years past — several large bull elk with huge racks, both white-tail and mule deer who could have been listed in the Boone & Crockett records, if the owner of the ranch had wanted the publicity. A moose, a huge buffalo bull (which the ranch manager corrected by saying "American Bison" each time he heard their verbal transgression), pronghorns, even a caribou, hanging on the walls.
It was in this atmosphere of shadows and light, that Kevin first saw the figure descending the staircase.
She was dressed in a flowing black dressing gown, which seemed both absurdly Gothic and completely appropriate for the circumstances. Was it a concession to Kevin's mourning? The light coming off the chandelier onto her auburn hair created a halo for just a moment. Her pale skin stood in stark contrast to the gown. She looked down at the men standing at the bottom until her eyes met Kevin's. She seemed to glide, rather than walk down the remaining stairs, until Francesca stood directly in front of Kevin.
Before that moment, Kevin had never believed in witchcraft. But when he looked at Francesca, he was caught like a rabbit in a trap, much as Steve had described himself a year earlier. She was bewitching.
Francesca's oval face had a rare symmetry. She had her hair pulled into a loose pony-tail at the back, which revealed a high, but not overly so, forehead. Her hair cascaded back below her shoulders.
Her green eyes were deep-set, and beguiling. Kevin found it difficult to look elsewhere. Her nose was straight and strong, of a good length, and clearly untouched by a surgeon's knife. How rare for an L.A. woman.
Her delicate neck emerged from her gown, teasing Kevin's imagination with its gentle curves and smooth skin. He suddenly envisioned his lips caressing her neck with kisses soft as the movements of a butterfly's wings.
The line of her jaw was soft, and begged him to reach out and feel the contours of her face with the tips of his fingers.
But it was her lips, moist, and full, that held the promise of delights untold.
Unaware of his body, Kevin's face was moving forward, lowering on its own accord, his lips on a collision course with Francesca's.
But the spell was suddenly broken as she stepped forward and took his hand and held it between both of hers. She was suddenly both more and less. She felt less like magic, but she was still incredibly beautiful.
He would later compare those first moments with the lines of the Poet:
"To all who see, so gracious is her charm,
That through her eyes, her sweetness strikes their hearts,
As those who have been struck alone can know..."
"You must be Kevin," she looked deeply in his eyes and said in a soft alto voice. "I'm Francesca. I'm so sorry for your loss, but I hope you can stay with us and find comfort in the quiet, peace and seclusion of this place."
Kevin smiled gently when he replied.
"I'm sure that I will be much happier for being here. I want to thank you for allowing Steve to invite me. I've already told Steve how pleased I am to have the chance to stay with you, even for just a couple of days."
She looked at Kevin's face as he spoke, and he was suddenly afraid that she could read his thoughts, because her eyes narrowed, and her head tilted slightly to one side, as if she was listening to the unsaid as much as the said. There were unspoken questions in her look.
Francesca nodded though, content with what Kevin was willing to tell her for the moment, and spoke again.
"Steve, do you or Kevin want anything to drink? Or would you prefer just to get settled for the night?"
"I think that I would just like to get settled in and go to bed," said Kevin, before Steve committed him to staying up until the wee hours of the morning, reminiscing about memories of the past, all of which were now tainted for Kevin.
Kevin was pleasantly surprised to find himself ready to nod off as soon as he was in bed, and he slept the sound, dreamless sleep of the righteous.
The new day began early for Kevin, with the morning sun entering his window. It was actually his error from the night before. There were opaque blinds he could have drawn, but he hadn't seen them, so the light of dawn was his alarm clock through the thin, translucent drapes.
When he looked out his window, he didn't mind the early hour. It was just as Steve and Francesca had claimed. He noticed a pair of binoculars sitting on the dresser, which he picked up and adjusted. There in the distance he could see the buffalo herd, as well as deer and elk in scattered groups on the edges of the wooded areas.
After he'd completed his morning ablutions and dressed, Kevin went down the grand staircase to the dining area on the first floor, where to his surprise he found Francesca already standing at the granite covered work island in the middle of the kitchen.
"Good morning, Kevin," came her bright greeting.
Kevin looked at her, this time in the morning light. She was dressed in jeans and a denim shirt, and appeared as if she had lived on a ranch her entire life.
"Help yourself to some coffee, while I rustle up some breakfast," she continued.
"Thanks, Francesca, but you don't have to..."
She laughed. It was music to Kevin's ears.
"I like to eat, so I'm cooking. It's no trouble to throw on a couple more eggs and more slices of bacon."
"Can I do something?" Kevin asked.
"How about getting out some bread and making toast? The bread is in that drawer," she said pointing the chef's knife in her hand at one of the kitchen cupboards.
"Where's Steve?" Kevin inquired.
"He won't drag himself out of bed until he smells breakfast being served. You've known him long enough to know he isn't much of a morning person!" she declared with that positive attitude that morning people have and unconsciously use to irritate the rest of the world.
Kevin passed close behind Francesca, almost touching her, to reach the bread. She gently leaned back into him, and drew in a deep breath.
"Hmmmm ... Kevin! I love how you smell. What is it?" she asked, turning her head, her eyes again connecting with Kevin's.
"I don't really wear anything," Kevin replied without hesitation, "except – maybe it's the moisturizer I put on my face after I shave. It's sandalwood, I think."
"Well, it's very nice. Clean and masculine," she said, smiling at him. Kevin almost melted on the spot. Her eyes were killers.
Soon their breakfast was cooked and Kevin found himself sitting with Francesca chatting, eating breakfast, getting to know one another. It was an intimate domestic scene, despite the reality that they were two people who barely knew each other.
By the time Steve wondered down in his bathrobe, still looking half-asleep, Kevin and Francesca had already cleaned up their plates.
"Oh, isn't this cozy!" Steve observed, sounding half-jealous already, and then seeing that breakfast had already been eaten, "Don't I get any?"
Francesca smiled at him, "Good morning, sleepy-head. I made extra, but you'll have to heat it in the microwave." By then, she was walking out of the room.
"I'm going to take Kevin up to the balcony and watch the animals," she called back into the kitchen without consulting Kevin, who was happy enough just to follow.
From the balcony, Kevin and Francesca used the binoculars to watch the wildlife. The lodge itself, a large structure built with huge fir logs, but much larger and more luxurious than any early settler would have conceived, sat on a knoll at the bottom of a small valley. Around the lodge was an area clear of trees, a meadow lush with grasses and shorter plants, bisected at the bottom by a creek bed. Further back was a line of trees, where the landscape rose to low mountains. Straight out from the lodge, the road was visible as it cut across the meadow and through a break between the mountains.
As they watched, Francesca pointed to specific animals that she had already, over the brief time that she'd been there, christened with nicknames. A huge bison bull, she called Roman Nose, after the Cheyenne warrior. He saw the white-tail doe she named 'Lightfoot', because she walked so delicately along the tree line. 'Caruso', was the bull elk, whose voice wasn't anything like the Italian opera singer, but who loved calling in the strangely high-pitched bugle that was so much at odds with the large bodies of the animals themselves.
Kevin and she laughed together at the antics of the quirky Chickadees, landing close to them in the hopes of getting hand-outs. She tossed out crumbs from a couple of old bread heels she had brought from the kitchen. They talked about schools, growing up, anything except Jessica, and strangely, nothing about Steve.
And Kevin would sometimes catch Francesca looking at him, patiently waiting, as if expecting him to say something more.
By the time that they came back downstairs and settled in the living room, Steve had dressed for the day.
"Kevin. Let's take a hike around the place. It's so isolated up here; it's great. Francesca, you want to come along?" he asked.
"No thanks, Steve. I've got my book, and I'll just enjoy the peace and quiet," she replied, reaching to a side table and picking up a book with a bookmark mid-way in the pages.
As Steve and Kevin walked out into the meadow, heading towards the creek at the bottom, Steve turned to Kevin and spoke.
"Well? Isn't she everything I told you? Beautiful, charming, captivating — and from the first moment I set eyes on her, that's how I've felt about her. And it's really strange, because she's about as far from my usual 'type' as she could be. You know the kind of woman I would usually go after: blond haired, big breasted, tall girls..."
Kevin interjected, "More like Jessica?"
Steve hesitated a second and took a furtive sideways look at Kevin.
"Yeah. Sure. I guess your right," he admitted, followed by a forced sounding laugh, "I guess I just never thought of her that way, Jess being your wife and all."
Kevin silently nodded, not giving away his true feelings.
Steve continued, "But Francesca is almost completely opposite that 'archetype.' I just love her, and I know you'll get along great with her too. That's why I stayed up in bed so late this morning, so you and she would have a chance to get to know each other without me being there every minute. Doesn't she just knock your socks off?"
"She does have a certain 'je ne sais quoi'," Kevin had to agree, without admitting to the degree to which she had disturbed his psyche.
Right then, they arrived at the little stream.
"See," Steve pointed into the water, "Look at those trout!"
"Where?" Kevin asked.
"There in the shade of the far bank."
"Oh, yeah. I see them now."
Steve and Kevin sat down by the stream and talked for awhile. More accurately, Steve talked about Francesca, while Kevin listened.
It was getting close to lunch time when the pair heard Francesca calling from the lodge.
"Steve! There's a phone call for you."
Steve turned to Kevin, "Oh crap. What is it now? This vacation has already been interrupted once. Sorry Kev. I'm glad I got the call about Jessica, and that I returned to L.A. for you, but I hope this isn't anything serious. Do you mind?"
"Not at all," Kevin replied, watching as Steve turned and loped across the meadow to the lodge. Kevin followed in his wake, but at a walk.
At the lodge the makings for sandwiches were laid out, and Francesca was waiting.
"Kevin what kind of sandwich do you want? We have ham and cheese, we've got sliced elk roast — I'm not kidding, we have elk and venison and buffalo in the 'fridge here — or you could have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
Kevin smiled as he walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands.
"Tell you what, you made breakfast, so let me make the sandwiches for lunch."
Sherry
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