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Reclamation

He had something of hers; to get what I wanted most, I had to give, she had to take.
Part One

I’d slid away from my computer desk an hour earlier, reheated some frozen leftovers and hastily eaten dinner and then I had taken a quick shower to wash the days’ dust out of my hair and eyes.

Crawling under the false flooring of a twenty-year-old data center, pulling out nearly one-half-mile of ancient wiring and retrenching new fiber optic cables, kicks up half a ton of dust bunnies. I could have hired a small crew of young men to do the same thing, but workmanship being what it sometimes is, I chose to do it myself, and I pocketed an extra two grand in the process.

It had been a long two days, and I had been a filthy, clammy and hungry fucker.

I was a bit on the horny side, also. I had chosen to pass on the urge to jerk-off in the shower, thinking I might have some new email invitations from my online personal ad I had been trolling on I had hoped there would be a solution to my needs, awaiting me.

I’m a troubleshooter. Amongst other talents, I've polished, I do know how to effectively address and repair, certain specialty dilemmas.

I’m the fellow you engage to diagnose issues, then make the proper technical recommendations or actually do the hands-on-work myself. Consulting has its unique advantages. I tend to associate with slightly more of an educated crowd. Professional respect and courtesies come with the turf. I am not the low man on the totem pole, so-to-speak…but it is best to act like I am, sometimes. Displaying too much ego is a reputation killer, in my line of work. So too, though, is indecisiveness and a shaky voice.

It’s a fine line, but one I’ve learned to walk. And, it aids in keeping my ex-wife living in the manner to which she claimed she’d grown accustomed.

I was going to address my sexual cravings tonight, one way or the other, but I preferred some female assistance, if possible.

I strolled through my doorway of my in-home office, Bacardi cocktail in-hand, naughty thoughts formulating, and I noticed…

“Hey, you online? I’ve a problrem that I havr allowrd to festr for a few months and youre the only guy I know I can talk to about this…

*problem, have, allowed, fester”

The instant messenger window from my AOL chat program was eating up the lower left quadrant of my monitor, and the time stamp indicated that Sandra, aka ScrumptiousAt39, had just initiated her message to me, not more than twenty-five minutes earlier. Her typical hot pink, bold, Tahoma font, glowed enticingly from my screen.

I hadn’t spoken with nor seen this petite, gold-digging, fuck-monster since the previous autumn’s equinox. My dick immediately swelled a smidgen, pinned next to my left leg and beneath my boxer briefs. I ran the hair brush through my moist mane and hoped that she was still sitting at her own desk, in her own office, less than twenty miles away.

As I sat down in my reclining chair, I calculated that Sandra had turned 40, just a month ago. I also considered that of all the possible maybes, which may be sitting in my AFF inbox, Sandra was also still, the cream-of-that-crop.

I lit a cigarette, and reached for the mouse to my right. Tilting the wide flat screen down slightly for a more comfortable view, I sat my drink on the DVD I’d wasted, but used for a coaster – just to the left of my wireless keyboard, adjusted my ass in the chair one last time and pondered my reply.

“And what can I do for you, my dear?”

“To what do I owe the honor, Scrumptious?”

“Turn on your web cam and show me your gorgeous, wet slit!”

I absent-mindedly logged into AFF and checked, (just in case the impossible twenty-five year-old, hard-bodied, blonde had sent me a wink) my inbox.

Yet another forty-eight hours of nothing, greeted me, instead.

I knew that Sandra would be able to see that I’d sat back down at my desktop. AOL’s program would detect my mouse moving around and show everyone in my buddy list that I’d returned online, from being away.

Although it had been nearly five months since I last enjoyed eating her appreciative cunt and decorating her slender, tanned neck with a copious pearl necklace, I had kept her user-name within my friend list. I never saw her online, as she chose to remain invisible nearly all the time. But I always knew she was there. I’d hoped she was, anyway.

‘How’s my favorite lusty Italian…and how may I be of assistance?’, I finally managed to tap out on the keys.

My cock was now fully engorged again, and I was oozing pre-cum all over the waistband of my black Jockeys. I should have stroked this urge off, earlier. I’d need to settle down just a little bit, with this chat, if it happened.

Several seconds of time accumulated; gathering to one, then two moments…as I snuffed out the butt of my spent cigarette. I lifted my drink and enjoyed its taste with three small sips.

Perhaps I’d waited a bit too long?

It was a Friday night, after all. And even though it was February and cold as hell outside now, there wasn’t any snow or ice on the roads, and it was quite possible that Sandra had a hot date tonight and was either now gone, or was in her own shower and already had plans.

Just as I was setting my drink back to the coaster, and lighting another smoke –

“I did somrthing rrally damned stupid. I’m in a hjam and I’m too embarrassed to discuss it with any of my friends. Can I call you?

*something, really, jam”

I puffed and grinned and typed...

‘You have a standing invitation, anytime, S. Still the same number.’

Her manicured French nails often produced typos and I knew she much preferred to talk whenever possible.

Two breaths later, my cell phone vibrated gently in its holster, to the right of my mouse and as I flipped it open, I inhaled deeply, another drag of nicotine. Then I exhaled audibly.

“Still smoking, huh?”

“Winston tastes good, like a cigarette, should!”

“Shame, you always knew that was a deal-breaker for me.”

I took another shallow drag.

“As I recall, you weren’t in the mood for a relationship, so, what did it matter, babe?” I tilted the microphone end, up and away from my mouth, keeping the speaker on my right ear, as I again exhaled blue smoke.

No need to antagonize; I wanted to feel her eager throat around my cock again!

“It was never about you, personally, Jeff…I’ve missed you like that, too! I've missed your tongue on my clit and your cock in my mouth!"

My dick began twitching, and she probably knew it.

“So, tell me, S…what have you done which you can’t tell anyone about, except for me…the man who wanted to settle down with you, just five short months ago?”

“Well, I know you won’t judge me.”

I chuckled slightly, as my heavy dick was pulsing now. Sandra's voice, along with my own previous sense of craving, was starting to get to me.

“And?”

“You remember I was looking to get rid of my Escalade?”

“Uh huh.”

“That next Friday after I tried to fuck you out of my memories, I went to a Chrysler dealership and negotiated with a guy to trade the Cadillac in for a cute little convertible, to get better mileage!”

“And, you bought a new sports car, instead?”

“Well, yes, but...I met a guy. He was my salesman, actually. Quite charming, very forward and he helped me greatly with the paperwork, gave me a great deal with the trade-in.”

“What else did he give ya?” I was grinning, eager to hear a tale.

Sandra had been utilizing AFF herself, for just over a year, and she and I had often compared ‘dates from Hell’…I didn’t know for sure, but I figured this - was another of those.

If I couldn’t fuck her again, I could at least enjoy another tragically humorous story, tonight.

“Well, it was a Friday afternoon, I was horny – as usual! He looked like a six-foot tall red-headed, freckled carrot. Not my usual type; but, he was quite forwardly flirtatious and you know I have a soft spot for a man who takes charge. And he’d done me a big favor, saving me thousands!”

“So you blew him in his office and you’re afraid you caught herpes?”

“Do you want to hear this or not?” She almost barked.

“Please continue; I sometimes, can’t help myself.”

“No…sometimes you’re just too smart-assed for your own good.”

“So there you stood, in your short, white shorts, tight, pink tank-top, pussy dripping and thinking naughty thoughts about you and Prince Charming…the used car salesman?” This was going to be good, I thought.

“He already had my phone number and my address from the paperwork. He asked me if I had any plans for the weekend as he handed me his business card and I replied that my calendar was open, and suggested he call me around seven p.m.”

“You drove home with the top down, your fingers in your panties, masturbating at nearly eighty miles per hour and got pulled over by a hunky motorcycle cop?”

Ignoring me, she continued, “At six-thirty, my doorbell rang and I rushed out of my bathroom, down the stairs and peeked out the front door. It was Josh. He cleans up nice, but I only had a bath towel around me and my hair was sopping wet.”

“You opened the door?”

“I swung it open, the towel slid down and revealed my right breast and nipple; his jaw hit the concrete stoop, his dick tented his shorts and I had to grab his hand and drag him inside!”

“He wasn’t exactly a take-charge kind of guy after all?”

“Well, let me just say, that for a twenty-four year old man, he at least follows directions, very well…at least about some things.”

“So you and Josh ended up banging all weekend, while your kids spent the next sixty hours with their father, what’s the problem?”

“It gets more complicated.”

“It always does, Sandra…did he fall in love with you, too?”

“It would be simpler if he had...Tell me Jeff, is your dick hard, now?"

She was stonewalling, teasing and tormenting all at once.

"I could cut diamonds with it, right now - you know that."

Sandra had always enjoyed verbal flirtations as well as visual temptations, and providing them; this was something new and she was truly embarrassed. I had not seen this 'dancing-around-the-bushes' side of her before; I attempted to coax it out of her.

“So you fooled around with a man who isn’t your normal type. It was just meant to be a brief fling and you find yourself now in some kind of relationship with him, is that the problem? You broke things off with me, when I hinted at a real, monogamous relationship. Can't pull the trigger, now...or what?”

“We became quick fuck-friends after that first weekend. He wasn’t eager to glom onto me. He was polite, it was decent sex – I mean, he’s twenty-four and his dick never goes soft! I could close my eyes or fuck him in reverse cowgirl and not have to look at his ridiculous hair! Plus, he paid attention and soon - he almost licked my clit as well as you once did!”

“And you were never going to fall head over heels for him.”

“Exactly. And unlike you, Jeff; he would never fall for me, either. I was his little MILF and he and I both liked that arrangement.”

“Heh, you were my little MILF and I liked that arrangement, too...but unlike me, he now has put your tit in a ringer, so-to-speak?”

I swirled the rum in my glass, the ice cubes tinkling audibly as I waited to hear her next comment.

“I just can’t believe I have opened myself up to this kind of financial blackmail, by an asshole, fifteen fucking years younger than me!"

She spit that sentence out with venom; I could almost taste her disgust with herself - on my own tongue.

“Now we get to the heart of the matter…”

“I could call him whenever I wanted an orgasm on my terms. He only lives ten minutes North of me, and I’d use him for an hour and send him on his way. He could come over in the middle of the morning or afternoon, because they aren’t selling many cars now, so…”

“He was great for in-home delivery, but he has you over a barrel, now. He sounds like a swell guy, babe.”

“One afternoon in early October, he mentioned to me that he knew of a great purchase opportunity on a used sedan, but he was short of cash and if I could loan him the purchase price, he could turn it quickly and he’d split the proceeds 40/60 with me!”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem, as long as he could deliver.”

“Yeah, he delivered, alright. After that first deal, he and I swung another eight deals just like that. I made almost ten thousand between Halloween and Thanksgiving!"

I could picture the wheels, inside her mind, spinning. One thing I’d quickly surmised about Sandra, aside from the fact that she was a nymphomaniac and a cougar, was that she craved money like a vampire requires blood.

Divorced at thirty, she was fortunate that she had caught her home-building husband fucking the twenty-two year old office help, whom Sandra herself had interviewed and hired a year previously. Sandra had retired from the daily chores of running their business office, to stay at home with her newborn daughter and two year old son.

During the 1990’s, their business had grown exponentially and they were in the business of creating and selling custom built, half-million dollar McMansions in the finer, newer neighborhoods of our city.

Since their divorce in 1998, and her subsequent share of said business along with alimony and child-support, set for a ten year payout period (which was close to expiring in eighteen months), Sandra had lived very well. Better, in fact, than she had during her marriage. Some would say she had grown accustomed to living way above her means.

She was not a millionairess, she only acted like she was. Four or five Mexican scuba-diving vacations each year, a brand new vehicle every two years, private schools for her children. Jewelry, clothing, keeping up with the Jones' in her neighborhood and social circles. Platinum and gold credit cards with forty thousand dollar ceilings and several of those, maxed out.

She lived extravagantly for a divorced mother of two; she hadn't worked a day herself, in nearly a decade.

I was familiar with her situation. My ex-wife had been milking me for the last two years in a similar fashion. And I didn't have kids to pay for! I almost felt sorry for her former husband. The poor, dumb, philandering bastard. At least Sandra owned some excellent pussy!

Partly because of the fact that I had an outflow of income, which would be biting into my play money for the next three years, Sandra had decided that I was not someone she would enjoy spending her fifth decade of life, with. I was good for an occasional fuck, but not for the rest of her life.

That didn’t make her a bad person, in my book; it did make her a desperate person who was sometimes prone to making faulty decisions. She was definitely smart and calculating, but also prone to being fucked over, easily.

As someone who has made a nice career out of smoothing over tribulations, small and large, I myself recognized early on, what Sandra was all about and what her goals were, short and long term.

She was an easy mark, for someone even more manipulative and cutthroat, than herself.

“Sounds like you’ve found that potential business partner/white knight/fuck-toy you had spent the previous half-dozen years, searching for.”

With an audible huff, she continued, “Around Thanksgiving, Josh told me that he thought he needed a nicer car to help him project a more professional posture.”

“As a successful salesman, he probably had his choice of rides, babe.”

“Well, that’s just it…Josh wasn't moving dealer cars. He was, ummm, short-circuiting potential dealership clients and those were the people we were acquiring vehicles for. He’s very bright and very charming, when he wants to be. He knew people who owned cars and people wanting cars and he was acting as the independent broker; I was his bank!”

While it was definitely dicey, as far as I could tell, she hadn’t broken any laws herself and if her bankroll really was up several thousand dollars now, she wasn’t risking much of her own money.

Curiously, I inquired, “Are you and Josh still happily fucking?”

“No. And it’s not about that. It’s about me now being in a hole and I don’t know how to get my ass out without getting burnt, big-time.”

“Did you loan him the money to buy his own Cadillac, and he’s not paying you back, or what?” I couldn't bully anyone into repaying a debt that wasn't one owed to me; I was already thinking of any advice I could provide. Especially if I could also get laid, again.

“Worse.”

“What could be worse than loaning someone sixty grand and getting stiffed?”

“I co-signed on this loan, and he’s not making payments. He changed his phone number a week later and he got fucking fired by the dealership three days after he drove the Monte fucking Carlo off the gawd-damned lot!”

“Oh shit.” I immediately saw her predicament.

“The paperwork was a twenty-four month loan period and I need to make a sixteen hundred dollar payment every fucking month and keep that fucking thing on full coverage insurance!”

"Sounds like you might be well and truly hosed, S."

"That's what sucks. I'm back to paying out a thousand more a month than before I met the asshole, and he's driving my fucking car. If I don't keep making the payments, my excellent credit gets shredded!"

“Damn. Tight spot you're in, Sandra.”

“And he’s already wrecked the car once, sliding on ice in December, into fire hydrant. I had to pay the fifteen hundred dollar premium to get it fixed and repainted.”

“Do you have keys to this vehicle?”

“Yes, at least I got a set of those.”

“When is the last time you talked to Josh?”

Gears started creaking, and valves opened in my own head.

“At the body-shop, the week after Christmas. I explained the situation to the repair guys and asked the owner to call me to let me know the car was ready to be picked up. I met him, Josh, there that afternoon. He handed me nineteen hundred in cash and told me to relax, that he was on the verge of selling three more vehicles and we were still partners.”

“You believed him?”

“What else could I do?”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“I know where he used to live, maybe still lives, I don’t know for how long.”

“So you haven’t had sex with this guy since?”

“The day we signed paperwork on that Chevy and he stopped by my house to thank me.”

“Roughly, Thanksgiving, then?”

“Yep. And I'm horny too. I can't believe he fucked up a good thing.”

“Does he have girlfriends or live by himself, room mates, etc…?”

“I don't think so. I called his apartment complex and pretended to be his girlfriend, telling them that I’d locked myself out of our apartment and wondered if I could come by and get another key or be let in.”

“You’ve been inside his apartment?”

“No, they told me that his name was the only one on the lease and they couldn’t let me in to his place…but I also learned that he’s two months behind in his rent and about to get evicted!!”

The way I saw things, this could be pretty bad, or…it could be pretty good, but time was of the essence. Here it was, the first of February, Josh probably had another few days before he was served papers to evict, it was a Friday night and a long shot, but…

“You need to repossess your car, babe.”

“Can I do that, legally?”

“You are a co-owner of that vehicle, you can do whatever the hell you want to with that car, especially if you are going to be paying on it for the next two years. You can drive it, burn it or push it into the river and collect the insurance on it.”

I heard a deep sigh into her end of the line, “I feel so much better now,” she sighed, "I should have called you in December, huh?"

“I wouldn’t feel better until you had that thing parked inside your garage, Sandra.”

“What is our next step?”

“I’ll be over to pick you up in an hour, you and I will drive up to his apartment complex and if we see that car, you take possession of it with your keys and if he tries anything, I’ll introduce myself to him, as you drive off.”

“Damn, I am so wet right now, Jeff…I shouldn’t be…but I want to fuck you when you talk like this.”

“Let’s take of business, first, Sandra.” Adrenalin coursed through my brain.

I hadn’t lit a cigarette in nearly thirty minutes and my left hand had been stroking my cock for at least the last ten moments, as my mind had been trying to piece out the possible scenarios.

“It’s almost seven o’clock now, you can be here by eight? Do I have time to masturbate then?”

“What you have time to do, S…is get your hot little ass dressed in some jeans, boots and a dark sweater top. If I arrive and you’re still using that rabbit I gave you last year, we might end up not accomplishing our main objective, tonight.”

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get here, and I’ll be ready!” She nearly squealed, "I can't wait!"

“Ciao.” I said, as heard the connection click to dead air.

I simultaneously bounded out of my chair, flipped the phone shut and I dashed into my bedroom down the hallway. My mind racing, I grabbed the same dusty jeans I had just removed two hours earlier and began hopping into them, one leg at a time.

Three minutes later, fully dressed and jacketed, with a cock that seemed to be commanding one third of the blood flowing through my body, I was rolling out of my neighborhood; taking care to not push the speed limits and to obey the streetlights, before I could merge onto the interstate, a mile away from my driveway.

Fifteen minutes later I was wheeling my pickup into the triple-car driveway of Sandra’s impressive sixty-five hundred square foot, three-story domicile. The headlights reflected off the brick siding and multiple front windows of her house as I swung the truck in, up and to a stop.

I could only imagine what thoughts coursed through Josh’s mind, last September when he first pulled into the same spot as I was parking my truck, now. So much house, for such a small woman.

“Geezus FuckingKeriste, I have hit the damned lottery with this cougar!”

The yellow hued front porch light flashed on, and I watched as Sandra, dressed all in dark tones, opened the massive front entrance and then pulled it shut behind her, turned and locked the deadbolt.

My left hand grabbed my erection through my zippered jeans. I could almost feel my heartbeat pulsing through my bulge. I could almost feel her trimmed, brunette landing strip upon my tongue.

I noticed again how small her one-hundred and ten pound frame looked - compared to the seven foot tall door, as she spun and launched herself down the two front steps to her front walk, jogging towards me.

Chestnut, shoulder length hair flounced, as her sixty-five inch silhouette seemingly floated in the windless winter’s crisp air. Her forty year old shadow didn't appear to be a day over twenty-five.

I’d unlocked the doors as soon as I’d brought my truck to a stop. Suddenly, diffuse light flooded the cab’s interior as Sandra opened the passenger’s door and jumped up, smoothly swinging and gliding her lithe frame onto the bench seating, immediately to my right.

As the luminosity began to fade, she turned and leaned her face towards mine, her blue eyes persuasive. A mischievous grin with pouty, pursed lips greeted my own, as she lightly kissed, promising with a hint of tongue, then pulled away and whispered, “I knew I could count on you.”

I felt her right hand land upon my familiar bulge, she once intimately owned, and grasp me, firmly.

“I’m flooding my panties, Jeff…can you sense how I need you?”

(continued...)
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