Twos Perfect Three is Incredible
- 3 years ago
- 24
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Where Love once more pretends that it may conquer all.
The next tennis evening I told Erica what had happened: first, the evening with Myriam (and Estelle?!) and then the afternoon meeting with her mother and aunt. Erica was silent for a moment. Then she said she had a hard time believing the personality split. I told her there was a lot of literature on that subject. And how the shrink had assured me it might be true.
"But doesn't that make it just too easy, Bruce?" she asked. "Fucking around on a free ticket? No guilt, no blame?"
"Easy?" I pondered. "Well, tearing up a few thousand bucks of lingerie couldn't have been easy on her budget. Quite an investment just to mislead me, don't you think?"
"True," she said — and we went out to play a rather distracted set of tennis. I don't think I convinced her about Myriam.
A month went by. At times I contacted a few escort services around the country. Silly, of course, but I had to do something. The whole thing might be a hoax. Yet deep down I was still convinced that Myriam was not a hoax person. The change in her had been too sudden and too radical to be faked. Sure, my hurting balls said to torch the bitch. But my brain knew I could not take the risk of abandoning the desperate girl she had also been. I had this nagging doubt and it prevented me from just walking away.
Of course there also was my incurable heart.
That's when I went to see the dentist. Erica recommended him. Her flashing teeth convinced me.
Dentists are money machines. They also are the inventors of the Great White American Smile. But there is one other thing they never get enough credit for — they are the reason why many people get in touch with magazines they would otherwise never read. Glossy magazines for interior decorating. National Geographics. And of course — society gossip.
This particular dentist seemed to have stacks of the latter, and not even ancient ones. I took the one on top, opened it and saw Myriam. Not Estelle, no — Myriam. She wore her reserved smile, her tightest bun. And a very conservative Chanel suit.
Her delicate hand was entwined with the rather stubby fingers of a John Enthwistle III, would-be junior Senator for the tiny state of Rhode Island. He smiled proudly at her. He should be proud, if only for selling his bald and pudgy self to this stunning woman.
Myriam stood at least three inches taller.
There were a lot of pictures. The captions told me they had been taken at a garden party near Boston, thrown by a wealthy local tycoon. I didn't know John Enthwistle the Turd, but I understood he was running for Senator. I also understood that the lovely Myriam Collins of Boston was his soon-to-be fiancée.
I groaned. I saw the couple in two other shots. They were not as prominent as in the first picture, but it was clear that John thought the world of her.
I gathered that my pretty wasp had buzzed back to her nest. It was enough information for me to let go of a few romantic notions. Estelle, it seemed, wasn't the only gold digger living inside that body.
By then I was pretty certain that Erica was right. It did not make me a happy man. It made me a numb man who hardly needed anesthesia when his turn with the dentist came up. As the whining drill did its good work, I stared in the bright lights and thought my saddest thoughts.
Had it all been a lie, the whole intricate story? And if so — why? Had Estelle won? Had she taken over control? I hated to even think of Estelle, let alone consider her a person. And if she had won, why wasn't she in the picture? Why Myriam The Prude?
There were other thoughts behind the obvious — they were guilty thoughts. Had my treatment of Myriam driven her into the arms of the ball-breaking bitch? Had I pushed her over the edge? Had I caused the slut to win? If so, again, why was she holding the Turd's hand and not Estelle?
And why was I thinking these crazy things anyway?
Having a tooth filled is not the ideal moment for clear thoughts. So after my last rinse, I walked to Bryant's Park, just to sit and wait 'til the numbness of jaw and brain receded. The jaw won. But my brain cleared up too, after a while — at least a bit.
It cleared enough to let me think a very dark thought: was poor John the next clown? Had I been Myriam's "starter husband"? A poor sucker to discard when something better came along?
It hurt me to even think like that of the woman I still loved. Besides, why would she conjure up such a Machiavellian plot? I mean, she herself came from rich stock. So my thoughts shifted at once to another explanation. Had Estelle used Myriam to catch the Turd? Just to find another stable platform to launch her illicit fuck-fests, as she had once with me? Had Myriam been an innocent pawn after all?
My thoughts were so feverish that I did not even mind that I had just accepted the split personality theory. Or had I? Even if Estelle had used Myriam and did it with poor John the Turd again, Estelle could just as well be the real Myriam, couldn't she? Myriam with a mask. Or Estelle with a mask, rather.
I felt a bout of sickness. After vomiting into a discarded bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, I left the sweet patch of green grass and went home to heave some more into my toilet bowl.
I called in sick and went to bed.
I have friends who have friends of friends.
One of them gave me an invitation card to an official reception at the Enthwistle estate near Providence, Rhode Island. It was held to announce John Enthwistle III's engagement to the lovely Ms. Myriam Collins of well-known Boston stock.
I went there. Don't ask me why. Call me every pathetic name in the Book of Wimps, or just call me stupid — but I went there. And Erica went with me.
It took her two bagel-sessions to discover that she could not talk me out of it. She caved in and bought the most expensive cocktail dress my credit card had ever paid for. Between her daring outfit and my tuxedo we could have ran off a James Bond movie set.
I felt both shaken and stirred when we handed our car keys to the valet and walked into the opulent lair of the infamous Turd. He — or rather his father — had spared no costs. Nor had he overlooked any opportunity to make us feel like crushed ants. From the shining Italian marble right down to the simplest prawn snack, everything smelled of money — and Estelle.
The happy couple was nowhere to be seen.
Mingling with the snobby crowd wasn't easy. Erica's hospitable cleavage and toned legs had quite an inviting effect on a few dozen males, but their spouses felt differently. Zero tolerance today, as far as they were concerned.
We ended up sipping champagne and chatting with two rather nerdy types. Their silk Armani suits must have cost a fortune, but they looked as if they had slept in them. I wondered what drew the Coen brothers to a party like this. But of course they were just two run-of-the-mill IT-billionaires from far away Silicon Valley. And they basked like tickled puppies in Erica's glow.
As the afternoon wore on, the rapidly refreshed champagne loosened up tongues. It even tore down a few walls here and there. Erica had a ball. An evil strain in her gay mind made her flirt with the horny as well as the innocent. She just teased their quickly rising testosterone-levels — then let them down with cruel elegance.
At times I punished her. I refused to bail her out in time when her victims turned predators. There was a certain satisfaction in not rescuing her before she had been groped at least a few times.
But what I really did was scan the area for Myriam.
She arrived around six, shining like the genuine Boston Myriam Collins. Her dress was a symphony of subdued elegance. It flowed and flowed all over her tall body to hide almost every sexy feature. Even her acquired bust was far less prominent than the last time I saw it.
Nevertheless, she looked dazzling.
After having been announced, she and her toad glided off the curved stairway to meet the stunned commoners they had invited. That is to say — Myriam glided. The beaming troll at her side was just a stumbling shadow.
Well — at least in my eyes he was.
I succeeded in hiding myself from the golden couple by using a marble column and a wide shouldered gorilla. My eyes however, followed their every move.
Applause sounded in polite welcome. A gray-haired man showered them with a festive speech. I realized he was the famous John the Second. His shifting gaze went up and down his son's latest acquisition. He almost gobbled her up.
John the elder was a slick speechmaker. In the best of traditions his jolly good fun glossed over his underlying emotions — which were mostly lecherous greed. I saw at one glance that the old goat was more than just a naughty, flirting father-in-law. I realized with shock that he had already seen everything the flowing dress hid from us. To be more achingly precise: John the Elder had already fucked his future daughter in law. He had done so maybe more often than his son and intended to do so for quite a time to come.
It was all in his eyes — and in the language of his body.
It made me wonder about the rest of the audience. I saw smugness, nudging elbows and secretive smiles. And I knew she had entertained some of them as well. The rest — with the eager glow and boyish anticipation — just had to wait, I supposed. For tonight, maybe? Or later — don't be impatient, guys.
I touched Erica's bare shoulder. She turned to me, her face at once concerned.
"Let's go," I whispered. "You were right — this was not a good idea after all."
"What's wrong?" she answered.
"Can't you see? She fucks them all already. She's the fucking house whore."
"Oh, come on, Bruce, surely..."
I cut her off and took her elbow. Then I steered her around the column and down the crowded hall. Cheers and applause sprang up behind us. The old goat had ended his speech with a toast. I looked around and saw the crowd spreading out. The couple had left the stairs to mingle, I guess. We had almost reached the exit, when a clear voice rang over the murmurs.
"Bruce?" it said. "Is that you, Bruce?"
Looking over your shoulder has been a doomed concept for ages.
Ask Orpheus when he came to collect his love from the underworld. Ask the wife of Lot, fleeing Sodom and Gomorrah. The first would never see his wife again, the second changed into a pillar of salt.
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"Harold, this is crazy! We're never going to fit all that in the car."I had to agree with Mom on this one. We were shutting down the summer cabin early, and as usual, it meant bringing home lots of gear that had migrated there during our multiple 'mini-vacations'. Unfortunately, Dad's workload had exploded with a new contract, and it was unlikely we'd get back out to the house again that summer.This season we'd accumulated more than ever. The coolers with all the game meat were the main...
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the people and events in this story and any actual person, living or dead, or event is coincidental. The story contains mature subject matter. It may contain adult situations and/or language. If you're not old enough to legally read this (and you know who you are), then get out of here before it's too late. You've been warned. I'd love to hear from any readers with comments. Email me at...
Gary was waltzing his way generically through the mall. Samey same old. It took a blonde in a miniskirt to raise his awareness, if not his eyes, of a brand new shopfront which she was just leaving. His eyes followed her away from it, only to narrow at the male who followed her out of the shop and jogged momentarily to catch up and take her hand. As mini and maxi as she appeared, so he was all Alpha and OhmyGod. Gary hid back inside himself. Inside the shop an old man in a bathrobe...
Despite sleeping for most of the flight home, and falling asleep in the limo, I still slept until after eight in the morning local time. By the time I woke up, all the soft, warm bodies I fell asleep amidst had deserted me. Painfully extricating myself from the bed, I managed to drain my bladder by myself. I guess I made enough noise getting up to be heard, and Pam was there when I finished. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said just before kissing me. “Shower?” she asked. I agreed, and she...
She asked when he was leaving and he told her it would be in three weeks. "That soon!?" "Yes. I'm afraid so." He could tell she was upset but that she was trying not to get angry. She sulked for the next few days until she got used to the idea. Not out in the open sulking but he could tell she was bothered by it. As the time approached for him to leave, he said that he had asked his parents to spend some time with her while he was away. They had agreed. She wondered if he had told...
Tommy and Kathy were avid football fans. Every weekend during football season, they would be watching every game from that was on any channel, and then DVR the games that they could. Any game that they watched was sure to have a bet on the game. Most of the time it was a back rub or a foot massage. Sometimes if it was a big game, the winner got to choose the restaurant they went to, or had to do dishes every night for a week. The bets were started just to keep thing more interesting, and they...
FetishPlease read parts one and two, before you read this one. My lover and best friend Kim, has been helping me write this, so it does have a woman’s perspective to it. ******************************************************************************* Chapter 1. Pete and Sandy’s Valentine evening was, what many would consider, a very raw, and very sexual night. They had made love twice, earlier in the afternoon, but that night turned into some of the hardest sex they ever enjoyed, and by...
Yes, I was proud. Joanie was my “Little Princess,” I’d nurtured her, raised her and took immense pride in her accomplishments. I’d loved my wife, in fact, I still do…posthumously…she’d died eighteen years ago; in the hospital where Joanie was born. My baby daughter was nursing at her mother’s breast, there in the hospital bed, when Marcie, my wife, suffered a fatal brain aneurysm and I was left a widower and the sole caretaker of a new born infant. I sound like I’m looking for sympathy,...
POV Sandra We all went into the bedroom, shut the door, and I yanked Pete right to me. "How do you feel about having two wives?" I giggled, before a gap where I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to lighten the mood. Are you okay, son?" "Yes, Mom, but it’s kind of been that way for a while now. You're not a mistress. Gia knows all about you, and she does it with you too." "Fair enough, but I want you to always treat her as your number one, Pete. You and I have had...
IncestPOV Pete "What's going on here?" my mom cried. "You two aren't giving back your rings, are you? You're both with the wrong sons. Are you guys breaking up now?" "Oh, no, Mom," Gia made clear, standing up and coming to her. "We're just celebrating," she made clear, placing her palms on our mom's face. "We just had some fun with each other's fiancés, that’s all. I will never leave your son, Mom, I swear." "Okay," she said, letting out a deep sigh and bringing Gia's hands down....
IncestIt Was A Night To Remember… Before I begin, let me introduce the main participants in this occurrence. First, of course, there is Sari, 19 years old and my girlfriend at the time that these events transpired. Sari was outgoing and very intelligent. She had a dazzling smile and lively, dark brown eyes, almost as dark as her black hair. She was 5’2″, probably around 115 pounds… not fat or heavy, but certainly not thin. Her Indian and Scottish ancestry gave her skin a...
My name is Anna, and I'm a teacher of 16 and 17 year olds. I 'm reasonably attractive, and I do get plenty of come ons and suggestions from the older boys, and indeed one or two of the older girls, but up to now I have been able to resist them all. After all, I know my career would be at stake if I strayed over the line with any of them.However, recently two of the older girls have been getting far too much of my attention, and I have been struggling to retain my composure with them.They are...
“Would you like to go somewhere and have sex?” That was how my new life started, with a question posed to me and my best friend, Carl, by the two hottest seniors, well, actually graduates now, at the high- school that we would be attending in September as freshmen. We had just gotten out of eighth grade the week before. “Would you like to go somewhere and have sex?” Now I suppose the two of us should been more suspicious, but when you’re 14 years old and two,...