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Samantha and Bruce-chapter two of two

The choices one makes dictate the life he or she will lead.
"He's short, too damn old, damn near dickless, and very demanding when it comes to using my twat," said my wife of going on three years.

"Then why did you marry the loser," said the friend seated to her left at our dinette table.

There were five of them in all. I knew the visitors pretty well: they were often over for coffee or drinks or dinner or all three. Lori and Stacy were accountants. Deidre was a dance teacher from the studio. And, Rhoda was a care giver to an aged rich guy. The one asking the question was Rhoda. The lot of them were single except for my wife. And, all were in their mid to late thirties except Deidre who was in her early forties.

They hadn't heard me come in. I was standing in the kitchen. My heart had just been broken into very small pieces. But, I was in control of my emotions, barely, but I was in control. I decided to just stay where I was and continue to listen.

"Why did I marry him? Because he was willing and able to take care of me and Lindsey; I needed him or someone like him. I was hard up, getting older fast, with damn few prospects," said Samantha.

"You're a good looking woman. You could have had your pick," said Rhoda.

"Get this. Yes, a lot of guys hit on me. They wanted in my pants right enough. But none of them wanted my baggage. Bruce didn't bat an eyelash. He accepted me and my baggage with me. All I had to do was make his day in bed. And, I do," said Sam.

"Doesn't he ever get suspicious about Carlson or Richard or that other guy?" said Stacy.

"Hell no. I am very careful. If he knew I'd be ruined: the pre-nup. No, so long as I take care of business at home, I can play and not have any worries about him finding out.

"I just consider it a job. A body doesn't always like the work they have to do, but they still have to do it regardless," she said.

"Sloppy seconds for him?" said Deidre.

"Occasionally, but not all that often really," said Sam. The all laughed. I made a decision.

I would join them. I headed into the dinette and took a seat at the table with them. The sudden silence was palpable.

"What, not even a hello, Sam? I mean if you're going to take care of business, I mean if I'm just a job, shouldn't it at least start with a little politeness?" I said.

"Bruce I..." she started. I smiled.

"It's okay," I said.

"Bruce, please. It's not what you think," she said. Now I laughed.

"Short, old, dickless, demanding? Carlson—and the other guys?" I said. "Did I miss anything?"

The others began recovering from their respective comas and made to be leaving. I didn't want that.

"No, no ladies, please keep your seats. Well, I mean if you care about what happens to Samantha’s and my marriage. I might be willing my to forget my hurt if you all would retake your seats and hear me out," I said.

"Bruce? What's going on? What are you going to do?" said Sam.

"You pretty much destroyed my heart just now, Sam. Whaddya think I should do?" I said.

"We need to talk, and we need to do it in private?" she said. "We can get by this." I thought I heard a snicker.

"Bruce, Sam is right. This is between the two of you," said Norma. "You need to talk it out."

"Exactly," I said. "But, I still need an answer to my question, Sam?"

"What question?" she said.

"How do you think I should feel, react?" I said.

"Like I said by talking it out," she pleaded.

"Yes, I agree we need to talk. But, since you seem to have included your friends here in your thinking; I'd like a chance to include them in my thinking. Fair enough ladies?" I said. I looked around the table. I held each of them individually with my gaze for a few seconds. They looked at each other and settled back into their seats.

"Thank you," I said.

Sam looked stricken. "How about you ladies. All of you think I'm as nothing as Sam does?"

"Bruce, what Sam said, what we all think, is just girl nonsense. All of us complain about our men. It's the battle of the sexes thing," said Rhoda. "For the record I know you guys talk the same smack that we do, worse even."

"Hmm, you have a point, Rhoda. But not every man cheats on his wife. And not many men would put up with being cuckolded. But me? Well, I'm a pussy when it comes to my wife, so I want to salvage things if I can," I said.

"Bruce?" said Sam. Her voice was filled with hope. I held up my hand to short shank her.

"Ladies, Sam, I am willing to forgive and forget. I mean it. But, there's a condition, a price."

"A condition?" said Sam.

"I want to fuck all of your friends here. If they agree, I'll just consider it water under the bridge and we get on with the business of living," I said. All of a sudden I had a verbal riot on my hands.

"How dare you!" screamed Norma. "I have never cheated on my intended. I'm not going to start now."

"Really? Never cheated on Cal? What if I told you I knew about Marcus Williams," I said. The look on her face was heartwarming. Norm had gotten some collateral info on some of Sam’s party going friends in his various reconnaissance forays; Norma was indeed a sharing kind of gal.

"And the rest of you? Got any skeletons? Want me to go looking?"

"Bruce, we like you. We really do, all of us," said Stacy. "We were just talking smack. Stupid stuff. Meaningless stuff. Okay?"

"Absolutely. So, shall we all get naked?" I said. Renewed verbal riot. Rhoda and Norma stormed out, though Norma looked back at me as she exited. I think she was trying to gauge whether or not I really knew anything and if so how much about her and Marcus Williams.

Deidre was next to leave. "I'm sorry we hurt you, Bruce. Please forgive me," she said, and then she was gone.

"And you Stacy? You gonna run off too?" I said. She rose and looked at me for a long minute.

"Call me if you really do want a piece of my ass," she said, and then she was gone.

And, then we were alone. I sat there half smiling at my maybe soon to be ex-wife.


"Just a job you have to do? That's it, Sam?" She looked down and then up.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. You were never meant to hear any of that shit, and that's all it was," she said. I nodded my understanding.

"Really?" I said. "I mean it isn't really the way you feel?"

"Hell no it's not," she said. "I actually love you."

"Hmm. I wonder," I said.

"No need to wonder it's the truth," she said.

"And Carlson and Richard?" I said.

"Mistakes. Big ones," she said. "They're history, the men. Honey, I know I'm going to have to work my ass off to prove to you that I love you. I'm a stinker; I admit it. Just give me a chance to make it up to you. Okay?"

"Your men, you mean that they've been history for a long while or just as of now," I said. She looked away.

"As of now," she said. I nodded.

"And, I'm supposed to believe you," I said.

"Hopefully," she said.

"Hmm, okay. This once. But..."

"I know, if it happens again, you'll destroy me. Right?" she said. I didn't say anything.


The thank you sex was amazing. She lay with her legs drawn back and grunting every time I drove myself into her. I felt her shiver just as I unloaded myself inside of her. I wondered what that meant because it sure as hell was better than any we'd had lately!

We slept in late the next day. It was Saturday and Sam had a hair dresser's appointment. Lindsey and I were slated to go to the zoo.

Things once again fell into a routine, and I began to relax.

"He let it go! He let all of those put downs go!" said Stacy Armitage.

"Believe me, I can't believe it either," said Samantha.

"No revenge, no threats, no demands? Really?" said Stacy.

"No, nothing," said Samantha. "Well, except for one helluva a night of sex. I owed him that, and I gave it to him."

"Girl, if you do end up breaking up with him, I'm gonna be taking your place," said Stacy.

"No chance, Stacy. I know what I've got in that man, and I'm not letting him go," she said.

"Carlson's been asking about you," said Stacy.

"Well, there's no way. Not for a while at any rate. I can't risk it. Tell him to chase after some other chickee. I'm busy saving my marriage," said Sam. Stacy gave her a look.

"Okay," said her friend.

Sam and I did walk softly around each other for a few days, but I was determined to have my cake and eat it too, one way or another. To achieve that particular goal, I figured, would require a very delicate hand.

One, I had decided to keep her. The reality was that I was pretty much everything she'd called me. I was short, I did have but a five inch dick, and I was almost fifty-three years-old. However, I did feel very strongly that I would be more than justified in taking issue with the demanding part. I was "not" all that demanding. Yes, I liked to have sex with her, but demanding? Whenever she'd said no, I'd backed off. I might have taken issue with the old part too, but I suppose that would have to remain a matter of perception. And then there was number two.

I had saved her skinny ass, and for that matter that of her daughter. Frankly, I deserved to be respected, and yes damn it, loved too.

The delicate part in my knightly quest, was the fact that I was going to do nothing in terms of exacting revenge of any kind. Nor, was I going to go whining and crying or pissing my pants because the woman I loved didn't, apparently, appreciate me. I was going to subscribe to that old dictum: that "No one can resist generosity forever." I planned to kill her with kindness and love and above all respect.

The sex after that first night of makeup sex was not real extraordinary. Partly, I knew, because I was still feeling basically low. I did not want her to screw me because I wanted it. I wanted her to screw me because we both wanted it. Trouble was, how did I know if and when that she wanted it. Talk about catch-22s. But tonight was six months since the hit to my ego and things had gotten back to something approximating normal.

I watched as she undressed. She had always slept in pajamas, that ever since our wedding night. She'd be naked only on nights when we did the dirty. She slipped into bed sans the night gown.

"Make love to me, Brucie. Please. I need it. I really do," she said.

"My pleasure dear wife," I said.

"Lie on your belly," I said. She did and I switched positions so that I could play with her butt. I felt the heat of her anus as I impaled her on one of my fingers. I kissed and licked her crack while my finger massaged her insides. She moaned. I pulled my finger out and licked and sucked at the hole itself. She was pushing herself back at my face.

"That's a good bit," she said. "Keep doing that. I really like it." I flipped her over and ministered to her clit. Backing up, I poked at her slit and my cock slid in easily.

"Screw me big guy, screw me like you mean it," she said. I wasn't too enamored of her 'big guy' comment, but I did begin drilling her for all I was worth.

It took me some minutes to unload inside of her, but I finally did. And, as I did, she began bucking wildly. I think she was trying to get off.

I collapsed on top of her and took a deep breath. "You make it?" I gasped. I knew she hadn't.

"Sure. You bet," she said. "It was a big one too." She was lying, but she was doing it to make me feel better. I'm not sure how I felt about that.

We slept the sleep of the hopeful; I sure did at any rate.


Over the next few months the sex remained pretty good. I was never able to make her cum, which by the way was not for a lack of trying. I worked my ass off trying to get her there, but I just couldn't seem to do it. Still, she seemed to enjoy herself that was something. At any rate, things between us were working themselves out; well, that's what I thought. It turned out I was kinda wrong about that.


I had her dead to rights. I could unload on her no problem. Lou still had the cannon loaded from before. And no, this thing now was not because of the problem we'd faced some eight months gone. No indeed. It was my gut reaction to what I'd discovered but three-point-five minutes ago. And the damnable worst thing about it wasn't the cheating. Oh no. It was the cheating with Hoerter! And, the jokes he was making at my expense and her laughing right along with him. Those killed my heart, again. And yet, for some damn reason, and I couldn't explain it, the whole sordid scene amused me. Oh, I was mad, incensed really. But, the whole scene was so funny. These two were really really dumbos; all they lacked were ears big enough for them to flap and fly with.

"Bruce! Please Bruce, wait!" she screamed. Languidly leaning against the door jamb, I watched as she desperately dressed. As for his assholeship; he'd fallen on his ass twice trying to pull his pants on. I would have laughed, but it didn't seem the polite thing to do at that particular moment.

Hoerter finally got himself enough together to get his ass out of our house. Samantha and I were alone. I was still leaning against the door jamb. She was now dressed and standing in the middle of the room, hands at her sides watching me. God how vulnerable she looked.

"And?" I said. She swallowed, no doubt trying to get her words arranged in her head. This was going to be a toughie for her for sure. Oh yeah, a serious toughie.

"You weren't supposed to see that. You weren't supposed to be here," she said. I nodded.

"Yeah, how inconsiderate of me. I'll call next time. You know, give you a heads up so you'll have a chance to clean up and get that shithead out of the house. How would that be," I said.

"Bruce? Are you going to kick me out?" she said.

"You know, I'm not sure. I should just unload your skanky ass and get on with things. But, I'm not sure. Let me ask you, do you want to stay with me? I mean and not with him anymore?" I said.

"Yes, I want to stay with you. Are you, are you, are you going to let me?" she said. I nodded.

"Does shithead have a cell phone?" I said.

"Yes." she said.

"Okay, ring it and tell him to never call you, see you again, be anywhere around you ever again. And, make him think you're alone, that I've gone out to get drunk or something. I want him to try and convince you to just be sneakier. Oh, and put that fancy android of yours on speaker because I want to hear what he's saying. Am I clear?" I said.

"Yes sir," she said. She picked up her 'droid and hit a preset number. How fucking convenient.

"Hello?" I heard him say.

"Hi. Michael, I've got make this short and sweet," she started

"He there?" he said, interrupting her.

"No, I'm alone. He's mad. I think he went out to get a drink, maybe a lot of drinks. Michael, you and I have to end it. As of now it's over. We played and now I'm going to have to pay. He's really mad," she said.

"Can't we just be more careful? I admit doing it in your house like that was a risk. Stupid-stupid-stupid me asking you to do it there," he said.

"Michael, no we can't just be more careful. We're done. Find some other woman to chase. I'm gonna be spending many years just trying to get him to trust me again. So please, don't call me, try to see me, nothing. Okay?" she said.

"Okay," he said. "But, I'll be around when little dick lightens up. You know how to get hold of me," he said.

"Michael, it's over..."

"You know, you should have tried going for our plan B," he said.

"Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. Michael, I have to go. We're done. Please respect my wishes here. Goodbye." She hung up.

"Plan B," I said. She looked down.

"Sam? Plan B?" I repeated.

"It was nothing, just one of his cockamamie ideas. I told him to forget it when he first brought it up, and each and every time he's brought it up since," she said.

"Each and every time..." I said, letting my meaning hang in the air. Once again she looked away.

"You've been with shithead how many times before?" I said. This was getting good.

"Bruce it's over between him and me. Really, there will be no more sex or meetings of any kind with him ever again," she said.

"Hmm, and plan B?" I was pushing it.

"Bruce, please, stop it. It was nothing. I never even considered it. Just stop it, okay?" Now she was getting mad, which, under the circumstances, seemed odd as hell.

I remained calm and spoke softly. "Last chance, Plan B?" I said. She was wringing her hands. She began to pace.

"He, well, he thought, imagined, that you might want to join in with us. You know a threesome thing. Like I said, a stupid idea from the gitgo and never even considered by me. Never!" she said. I nodded.

"Why would he have wanted such a thing?" I said.

"Hell, I don't know. I guess he thought that we, he and I, could do it more often maybe. I mean if you were in the mix. But I don't really know. The conversation never got that far. I never let it get that far," she said.

"Interesting," I said.

"Bruce, are we okay. You gonna give this cunt another chance?" she said.

"Momma?" came a voice from the kitchen. Lindsey was home. Bruce would you go see to Lindsey. I need to get dressed. Please?" she said. I smiled, nodded, and headed off to entertain her kid for the next short while.


When one is fifty-three years old and looking for a mate, a soulmate if you will, it's hard to walk away from such a one once she'd been identified. Samantha was my soulmate; I was sure of it. She was also a slut, and she had become one, if I had it right, some time back. She'd become one and she liked being one, and that dear reader is what I was confronted with. Could she give up this Hoerter guy, really? I had to hope so.


"My mom likes you too, you know," said the little girl.

"Too?" I said.

"You and that tall guy. Michael," said Lindsey. All of a sudden I had a bad feeling. I decided to take a flyer.

"Oh yeah, I know about him. But, at least he doesn't come around here, I guess," I said.

"No, not often. Maybe once a week or so. You're here all of the time, so you have dibs," said Lindsey.

"Dibs?" I said. "What dibs?"

"On my mom, silly," said Lindsey. "He's an okay guy. Mom says he makes her feel good. But, she doesn't trust him. She only trusts you."

"Feel good?" I was talking, no holding a serious conversation, with an eleven year old kid that seemed to be more worldly-wise than me! Helluva a deal for damn sure.

"Really? Once a week is all," I said.

"Yes. Only on Tuesday because that's the day you go to work in the morning. Mom knows you wouldn't like him being around when you're here," she said.

"No, I wouldn't," I said. Tomorrow was Tuesday. I would be taking some time off from work to see if I could nail the bastard banging my wife.

"But, she likes you best," said Lindsey. I knew she thought that she was reassuring me. Maybe had a feeling that what her mom was doing was not good.

"And, how may I ask do you know all of this?" I said.

"I came home sick once and I met him. Mom told me stuff after he left," she said. "Mom and I always tell each other stuff."

I had to think that this was stuff that momma would rather have not had her daughter in the know about. But, once the cat was out of the bag; well, anyway, now the kid did know. And, now I knew. Fucking wonderful!


I'd left on time, 7:00AM, as usual. I knew from what Lindsey implied that the asshole would show up around 9:00AM, probably have coffee with my soon to be ex and then they'd head for the bedroom and desecrate my marriage bed. I'd probably get a call around the time he got there. She'd been calling me at work on Tuesday mornings for some time: the only day of the week I went in early. I had to figure it was to assure herself that I was at work and not going to be interrupting their little tryst. Hence, I was at work, as usual; I'd be taking the call if she made one. Then, I would be taking a sick day.

"Bruce, the phone. It's wifey, said Janie, my morning back up. Janie, Juan the cook, and Lisa and Helen were there for the breakfast crowd. The bar wouldn't open until 4:00PM, but Sancho's was open 6:00AM to 2:00AM seven days a week; but, only food and nonalcoholic drinks until 4:00PM.

"Hi, honey," said Sam, "just calling to say hello."

"Backatcha," I said. "Got a full day?"

"No, not really. Just stuff around here to take care of," she said.

"Well, I do," I said. "Got a ton to do today. It's gonna be crazy I just know it."

"Huh? Well, take care of yourself and don't work too hard," she said. "I'm planning on giving you a workout when you get home, young man," she said.

"Okay, you be good. See yuh later. Bye," I hung up.

I wondered if her plans for me included sloppy seconds. Probably not. She'd shower before I got home. No use being too in my face about what she was doing to me. I smiled. I wasn't happy, but I was ready.

I parked behind his car on the street and headed inside. They were in the spare bedroom. Jesus were they being loud. I sat outside the room and listened. The little, but very expensive, recording device in my pocket was getting it all.

"Yesyesyesyesyes!" she hissed. "Ooohhhmyymymy."

"Hubby do that for you?" he said.

"Don't talk about him," she said. "He's not here. You are. So just shut up and do me. Okay?"

I could sense him smiling. "Just curious. No harm no foul. Okay" he said.

"No he doesn't do it for me. He tries, and sometimes he comes close, but he just doesn't have it where sex is concerned. So now shut up about him." He laughed.

"Hey you're the one who told me his dick was really a dicklet. Come on. He gets you every day of the week. I have to be satisfied with once a week. Let me at least have a little fun at his expense. Okay?" he said.

"No. He's off limits. Got it!" she said.

I was seething. I hid the recorder behind the hall portrait and headed for the bar in the den. It was only 10:30AM but I needed a drink and a shoulder to cry on.

I had a lot to think about. I'd be divorcing Samantha; that was a given. I was thinking of putting a serious hurt on Hoerter economically too; I just had to figure out how to go about it. And, there was Lindsey. The kid was innocent. I'd probably cover her financially unless Sam cut me off from seeing her. I'd become attached to her. Also, I'd be giving Lou a heads up within the hour.

When I'd departed, I'd decided to leave without interrupting the two lovers with my presence, but I wasn't going to leave quietly. I downed my drink and closed the cupboard kind of loudly. Then, I gathered up my coat and left not being careful about making noise; I didn't exactly slam the door, but I was sure they'd hear it. Like I say, I wanted them to know I was there, or suspect it, worry about it. It was going to be fun; well, it was for me.


"What was that!" said Samantha.

"I don't know. It sounded like a door or something," said Michael Hoerter.

"And that!" said Sam. She was out of bed in a flash, but sneaking down the hall very slowly and quietly.

Going into the kitchen, she saw the empty wine glass. "Sweet Jesus," she said.

"What," he said, coming in right behind her.

"I think he was here. I think he heard us. I'm fucked. So, likely are you." She said.

"Oh shit," he said.

She headed for the phone. "If he's not there, then he was here," she said.

"Yes, hi Janie. Is the big guy there? Oh really... home... Okay thanks," she hung up.


I was back at Sancho's within fifteen minutes. "Sam, your wife just called. I thought you were taking a sick day," she said. "I told her you were on your way home."

"I did too, but I'm feeling better," I said.

I got her next call ten minutes after I'd put my apron back on. I picked up.

"Hello?" I said.

"Bruce, your cell's off, and I haven't been able to get hold of you. Janie said you took a sick day. That you were on your way home?"

"I was, and I did. But when I got there, I found it was a little crowded, so I decided to come back to work and be sick here," I said. Silence on the other end of the line.


"Yes?" I said.

"It's not what you think. Really?" she said.

"Good, but I have to get back to work, also really," I said. I hung up.


I was a man with upwards of one hundred million in liquid assets. I was man who owned half interest in a flourishing bar and grill. I was a man who was a competent if not professional bartender. And, I was a man who was all but terrified of going home to face a woman who had lied to me and made me her cuckold—numerous times.

Terrified of what? No, not facing her really. Not pinning her about what she'd done. I was terrified that she'd be able to convince me to forgive and forget, again! This was one time when I had to be strong. I'd listen to her, but in the end she had to be history. Didn't she?


I pulled into the driveway and looked up toward the front door of the house. I knew that it would likely be the last time I looked at it as our house, mine and Samantha's. What could she say? What could she promise me? Would she even bother to promise me. Yes, I could dazzle her with my money, even my power, and I had it, but what would that accomplish. Answer: nothing.

I sighed, got out of the car, and walked to the door. It opened before I had even reached for the doorknob.

"Bruce. Please," she said. She walked back into the room and took a seat on the couch. Stunned, I followed her in, shutting the door gently behind me.

"What's he doing here," I said, looking straight into the eyes of her lover. If she'd wanted to piss me off, she'd succeeded historically.

"He's here to help me plead my case. If you're willing to listen, well, maybe we have a chance, you and I," she said.

"You're nothing if not unpredictable, Sam, I'll give you that, and, optimistic," I said.

"Yes, he screwed me today. It's been happening..."

"More or less weekly, right?" I said interrupting her.

"Wha..." she said.

"You know, on Tuesdays while I'm at work making a living for us. He's screwing you. Right?" I said. She looked down.

"Bruce, you make a good living for us. You treat me and Lindsey like we're princesses. There's almost no downside to being married to you. In fact, I'd say there is no downside to being married to you," she said.

"Then why him," I said, motioning toward her so far silent partner in crime. "Whaddya need him for?"

"His nine inches and staying power and recovery power: sex, that's it, that's all," she said.

"Sex? You're saying that I haven't got what it takes. That about it?" I said.

"Yes. You're older. It's natural. You're good for maybe one time before you're too tired to go again. Do you realize that we've not done it twice on the same date in forever? I need a little more. Not a lot, but a little. I've discovered that if I can have Michael once a week, it's enough for me. That's why the Tuesday thing. Never at night, never in our bed, yours and mine, and only once a week," she said.

"So that's the pitch?” I said. "I accept your once a week liaisons and we just get on with life. Am I right?' I said.

"Yes," she said.

"And what are you bringing to the table, Hoerter? You just here to hold her spear, or have you got something to say," I said.

"Yes, I do," he said. "Samantha has pretty much laid out the schema as it is at the moment, and it would be good if you were amenable. But I have an offer to make to you, actually a couple of them. She told me that you wouldn't be interested, and maybe you wouldn't be, but I begged her to let me try. I'd only ask that you let me lay it out for you before you get all hot and bothered. Okay?" he said. I nodded.

I was actually more than curious as to what the asshole was wanting to sell me. "Sure, lay it out for me mister big dick," I said.

"Bruce!" said Samantha, butting in.

"Okay, okay," I said. "Go ahead."

"Even if you agree to what Sam has proposed, I can foresee that you'd be out there hating her and me and everything about the deal real fast. But, maybe not so much if you were part of the action. What I'm saying is that I'd be more than willing to have you join us whenever we got it on," he said. "You'd screw her, I'd screw her, we'd do everything sexual and kinky we could agree on and, well, just have a good time," he said.

"That it?" I said. He nodded.

"Mister Hoerter, I think you need to leave now and let me and my wife talk things over," I said.

"Okay. Anyway, I made my pitch. Thanks for listening," he said. And, then he was gone.

"So my husband, where does that leave us," said Samantha.

"If I say dump his squirrely ass, would you?" I said.

"In that event, I'd ask you for a divorce, and I would marry him. He's single and willing to marry me. He wasn’t before, but..." she said.

“But he is now,” I said.

“Yes,” she said.

"So all of those things I'm so good at, so wonderful at, can't measure up to his nine inches of flesh. That what you're saying, Sam?

"And what about Lindsey?" I said.

"Michael will take care of us," she said. I nodded.

"Okay, if that's the way it is. He wins. I'll get me a room somewhere tonight, and tomorrow I'll come back and get the few things I care about. Have a nice life," I said.

"Bruce, it doesn't have to be this way. Really. Ideally he's just on the side and you're master of the house. I just need, can't do without..."

"Can't do it, Sam. He wins, and you lose. You've chosen badly," I said.

It took me fifteen minutes to get enough stuff together to last me a night or two, and then I was gone.


The divorce was final in five months: irreconcilable differences. She got the house because I didn't want it. I could have sent her off with just the clothes on her back. But, there was the kid who I was fond of; hence, I wanted her to have the house. She was suitably grateful given the circumstances.

I did get one visit from Samantha about a month before the divorce was final.

"How yuh been, Bruce?" she said taking a seat at the bar.

"Okay, I guess, considering," I said.

"I thought, well, I thought that I'd make one last pitch to see if you'd be willing to cut us, me and Michael, some slack. You know join us. Let me have this little thing, and it is a little thing, on the side," she said.

"Not so little that you that you aren't willing to forgo throwing away a good marriage," I said, quite logically. She ignored my logic.

"I'll miss you, Bruce. More than you know," she said. I nodded and headed back down the bar to answer a call for service, and then she was gone.


My shift was over, and I was sitting in a booth near the back of Panza's. I'd been relieving Gil, who'd had a family emergency. She plopped down across from me.

"So, how's it going stud," said Lana.

"Stud? Almost anything else, Lana, but not stud," I said. "My wife and I are breaking up. Oh, she assured me that so long as I could put up with her once a week liaison with her lover that she'd keep me, but absent that little piece of agreeableness, I had to hit the road. Seems he's got four inches on me that Samantha just can't do without. Can you dig it," I said.

"Hmm, a size queen. Yeah, I guess I can dig it," she said. "A lot of women get hung up on size. And, if Kong has got some style, well...

"Don't feel too bad, stud, you've got me. But like I said, I will need a ring if you want me to be your exclusive, you know, to quit the business," she said. I smiled.

"You know, I might just surprise you, woman. Hell, you're about the only female I do trust," I said. She laughed.

"One thing, stud, I know you love the woman, and from what you've told me I think she loves you too. But, unless you're into the cuckold scene, steer clear of her. She'll make you cry, a lot. Seen it a lot, know the game," said Lana.

"You busy tonight?" I said.

"Just busy trying to get your emotions back on an even keel. Why, you need more? you wanna screw me?" she said.

"Yes." I said.


The ride to her place was quiet. Also, it was economical in terms of time lapse. Seven minutes to her apartment, one minute to get inside the apartment, two minutes to get undressed and to share an opening kiss or two, and an estimated half minute thereafter to impale her absolutely delicious body on my dick. Total eleven and a half minutes to achieve ecstasy. Oh, and seven more minutes to make her scream. Yes, sex fans, I actually brought the woman off. I know that because she squirted as she made it.

"Fuck mister studley. It's been a while since any man did that to me. I hope you're up for an encore because I sure as shit am," she said.

She got me up for the encore. It took a while but she did. Unfortunately, I didn't quite have the wherewithal to achieve my earlier success.

"Well, we learned a couple of things tonight didn't we," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"Yes, you can do it for me, for a woman; but you do have limitations. Not a deal breaker for most women. Your ex, however, probably does need that little fellow of hers on the side to keep her satisfied in that regard," said Lana.

"He's a big fella not a little fella," I said. "I'm the little fella." She nodded.

"Yeah, well as your ex-wife said, bedroom skills are not the only things a woman looks for," she said. "Look at it this way. He'll age and his ability to perform will lessen as have yours; it's nature. On the other hand the things you bring to the table may actually get better with age. Again, it's nature kinda evening things out. Nobody is blessed with everything. Be happy with what you've got." I nodded.

"Yeah, I guess, I said.


Lana'd given me food for thought. Samantha couldn't control her sexual desires; it was a simple as that. She knew, probably, that even if she gave up Michael to keep me and my skill set, that she'd eventually cheat, get caught, and lose me anyway. It was a matter of flat being unable to control her animal urges.

And me? I knew for a fact that I had hole cards up the kazoo and could easily out last good ole Michael and steamroll him in any one-on-one competition. It was a matter of resources; I had 'em, he didn't.

I decided to take Samantha up on her offer. I'd be her cuckold and over time put an end to her cheating, actually change her need to cheat to something else that I could control. Some may wonder why I'd put myself in that position. I had the money, and the power, to do what I wanted. I could have any woman I wanted. Yeah, if I wanted a really sexy gold digger to keep me warm at night. No, I wanted someone who actually not only loved me, but liked me! Samantha was that woman. I knew it and I was going to exploit that little reality to the utmost.

Oh, and I had one wild card that I was holding that was going to be part of bringing Samantha to heel. I was going to keep Lana on the side. And, I mean as my exclusive, what, mistress. Samantha would know about her; I'd make sure of that, but I would never rub it in her face; I let her imagination do that. My only problem? Convince Lana to go along with it. Well, I thought that that would be my only problem.


The divorce was final, and I was free, sort of. It'd been almost a year now since I'd seen Sam except for the brief meeting in the bar the month before the divorce did in fact become final that now six months past. Because of the pre-nup, and Lou's aggressive enforcement of it, she'd ended up with nothing except the house, that was an outright gift from me, which she'd sold. Subsequently she'd moved into asshole's house.

Norm had let me know that mister Hoerter did okay economically: sixty grand annual selling insurance, and yes, I had finally found out what he did for a living. They had not, however, married. And, I had it on impeccable authority, Norman Gates word, that they weren't even engaged. She was essentially his mistress.

Lindsey still went to school, played soccer, and took piano lessons. A crumb to me was the fact that Lindsey and her mom argued, on rare occasions, about how she'd chosen to dump me for mister big dick, my words these last. Samantha's lifestyle had taken a hit in the sense that she and I had been living on around a hundred grand annual at the time of the split.

At any rate, I had plans to make and implement.


Sancho's had few patrons this time of day. I was on duty kinda. And, I was on a mission, absolutely. I saw her come in and she was flat gorgeous, no doubt trying to entice me. I was about to let her know that she didn't have to work so hard at it.

"Hi, honey girl," I said.

"Hi," said Lana. "So what's up?"

A couple of things," I said. She looked me askance.

"Question, how are you doing financially?" I said.

"What? What kind of question is that? Have I ever asked you how much money you have?" she said. She was a trifle miffed.

"Lana, I'm not after your money. I just need to know so as to go to the next thing here," I said. She relaxed, but she had a mildly irritated, maybe uncomfortable, look on her face.

"I know you have a private eye who's probably already given you the facts, so why waste time asking me?' she said.

"Lana, the other day I told you that you were one woman, maybe the only woman, that I actually trusted. I would not have you spied on for any reason whatsoever except maybe to protect you. I did not have Norm check up on you. And, if you don't want to tell me, what I would really like to know, it's okay. But it would be helpful if you did," I said. She hesitated.

"Okay, okay. I trust you too," she said. "Things are tough right now. I might lose my condo. Bad investments basically. I trusted my banker friend. He steered me wrong. But, I still have some resources." I nodded gravely.

"Okay, this is the deal. I'm planning to take some of the things that you said to me a few days ago to heart. I'm going to go back to Samantha. But, I am not going to go back and just be a long suffering hubby and her accepting cuckold. No indeed. But, to do things the way I'd like to, I need you in my corner. I want you to be my mistress." Her eyes shot open. Her mouth followed suit a nanosecond later.

"Absolutely not!" she said. "Where do you get off..."

"Lana, with all due respect, shut up," she sputtered and started to get up out of her seat. I had to stop her without being physical. "Five million," I said.

"Huh? Wha..." she barked.

"A one time payment in tax free money to any bank you like, including an off shore one if that would be your choice. That, to make you my exclusive paramour," I said. "And, I mean for life. If she's going to have her ten inch dick; I'm going to have my first class lover and sex instructor."

"Huh? I mean you have that kind of money. I knew you had some, but I had no idea. I mean . . ."

"Uh huh," I said.

"Bruce if this is..."

"No, Lana, this is no joke," I said. "I can have a certified check delivered to you before we leave this booth today. Or, I can, as I said, have the money delivered to any account you name within the hour. Your choice."

"You really are serious aren't you?" she said. "I never had a clue."

"You weren't supposed to, and no matter what you decide here. It stays between us forever. Okay?” I said. She nodded.

"I'll take the check," she said. I picked up my cell.

"Frank, deliver it. Yes. Thanks," I said. We sipped our Lites and waited. Seven minutes later the check arrived. The delivery guy handed it to me; I signed for it, and handed it to Lana."

"Okay, you're rich. Keep your condo for a while. I don't want any male gold diggers chasing after you," I said smiling. She laughed, kinda hysterically.

"Bruce, I don't know what to say. I guess, I guess, well, I guess I'm your mistress for life. I'd rather have married you, but this will be good too," she said. "Oh, and yes, I am out of the business as of this minute."

"Lana, a piece of advice: don't do like so many other instant millionaires have done and start living crazy. It's a lot of money and if you set it up right the interest on it alone will keep you in good health and wealth your whole life.

"I chose you Lana because you are a woman that I trust. I can't trust the love of my life, go figure, but I can trust a high priced girl of the evening. It is what it is. I decided on the five million because it's enough. Put it in tax free government paper and you'll reap a safe twenty-five grand a month without even touching the principal. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."

"Yes sir," she said.

"I'll be setting up a schedule with you soon, maybe even by tomorrow. You'll always know, well pretty much always, know in advance when I'll be over. And, one last thing.

"Yes?" she said.

"It may be, actually, will likely be, that you will have boyfriends. Heck, it may be that one day you'll meet a guy you want to marry. I have no problem with either of those. But, even in that event, I will ask that we keep on keepin' on with you as my mistress. Which of course means that you'll have to tell the guy if marriage is in the works. And, if he's good with being your cuckold, as I will be Samantha's; then, well then, I will make it good by him. Okay?" I said.

"Bruce, that is exactly as it will be. I mean, if, anyone ever strikes my fancy enough for me to want to marry him," she said. I nodded. Like I told her, I did trust her.


It was 10:00 am. I knew Hoerter would likely be at work. I was parked outside his house and feeling like a guy with a date with the hangman. I got out and headed for the front door. I pushed the buzzer. She answered the door.


"Yeah, it's me," I said. "I want to come back," I said. Her eyes got big.

"What did you say?" she said. I was still standing on the porch.

"I said, if you still want me, I am willing to be your cuckold. I want to come back."

"Oh my!" she said. She embraced me. She invited me in. She made a pot of coffee. We caught up on the things, mundane things, and then it was time to talk about the elephant in the room.

"Bruce, a year ago, you and I were living together as man and wife. I had sex on the side, yes behind your back, on Tuesday mornings. But, then you divorced me. Michael took me in, supported me, took care of Lindsey. Well, I mean things are different now," she said.

"I've thought about all of that," I said. "I want to come back, remarry you, and be your accepting cuckold if that is still your requirement," I said. That stopped her: the remarriage part.

Really?" she said.

"Yes," I said.

"But Bruce, even if we did, you know, remarry; I'm afraid it would be a lot more than just Tuesday mornings now. Could you handle that?" she said.

"Yes?" I said.

"You couldn't before. But, you say you could now?" she said.

"Yes, before it was just you and me and Michael. This time around, well, I have a mistress. Her name's Lana. I intend to keep her no matter what. You'll have your ten inch dick, and I'll have a sex machine of my own," I said.

"Nine inch dick," she said.

"Huh?" I said.

"Nine inches; he's only got nine inches," she said. I smirked.

"I stand corrected," I said.

"You say a mistress?" she said.

"Yes." She leaned back in her seat.

"Bruce, I'm going to say something you might not like. Over the past year, I've become emotionally involved with Michael. I'm afraid he wouldn't approve of my seeing you too, I mean even if we didn't remarry," she said.

"But, he hasn't married you," I offered, “even after all this time.”

"No, that's true, but it won't be true for much longer. He's proposed, just yesterday actually. We've set the date for next month."

"Really! Oh, okay. I guess I'll be going then. Sam, best of luck to you and him, really. Send me an invitation, okay?" she tendered me a warm but sympathetic smile. I rose and let myself out.

It was still morning. I had time. Time to go shopping.

She'd got there before me. Gil was tending. Panza'd become my favorite watering hole. Well, it had sentimental value.

"I came to her and wasted no time falling to my knees in front of her. "Lana, please do me the honor of becoming my wife, please, I beg of you," I said.

"Huh! But what about Samantha?" she said.

"She's marrying the other guy. Besides it's you I love anyway. I thought I needed to take one more shot at her, but I was wrong. Whaddya say?" I said.

"I say yes," she said.

"Good!" I said. "Thank God!" Soon we were surrounded by Gil, several of the regulars, and all of the help. The congrats and the bubbly seemed without end or limit. "I made a couple of calls; then, she and I headed for her place.


I did get the invite to Sam's and Michael's wedding. And I attended. Actually my new wife, Lana Turner nee Lang, and I attended. Oh, and yes, I had finally gotten her last name. But of course now she had mine.

Lana had said yes. And, she would have married me regardless, so she assured me; but there had been a small requirement.

"I have just one question for you Bruce before you take me and make me yours and yours alone," she'd said.

"And?" I said.

"Just how the hell rich are you?" I gave her a look and realized that she was the one person in the world that I would willingly disclose such to. I hadn't done it with Samantha which I guess said something. But, Lana was different.

"Around a hundred Mil more or less," I said. She fell into her seat.

"And you're a fucking bartender!" she said. When you gave me that five mil I knew of course that being a bartender had to be hobby for you. But, numbers like the ones you just laid on me makes me ask the next question. Why the hell are you working at all?"

"Partly as a cover, and partly because I like it," I said.

"Really? And, did Samantha know? Suspect?"

"No, and she won't. I will see to it that Lindsey gets a scholarship, anonymously, when she's old enough. But as for Samantha and Michael; she's got what she wants and needs and so do I, finally," I said. She came to me, and we made love on the carpet, then in the dinette, and then oral sex in the bedroom. I liked the carpet best, go figure.


Well, and I was wrong of course. Samantha did discover my secret. Lana and I had, over the next few years, become amateur philanthropists. One recipient of our largesse had resources, found out about me, and had let the info accidentally or purposely slip to a reporter. We were all over the newspapers in less than twenty-four. I got a visit at Sancho's.

"Well, Bruce, you certainly had me fooled. I guess I blew it, huh?" she said. I continued wiping the snifter I had in my hand as she nursed the drink in front of her.

"Blew what, Samantha?" I said.

"I coulda had a billionaire, instead I got a workaday guy who has trouble making our bills each month," she said.

"A billionaire?" I said.

"Don't play dumb, Bruce, I read the papers," she said.

"I'm not a billionaire, Sam. Just a guy tending bar for his next meal," I said, and yes I was deadpanning.

"You saying you're not filthy rich?" she said.

"No, I'm saying I'm not a billionaire," I said.

"But, I am curious. I thought you were happy with mister nine inches? Not so?" I said.

"He's okay, not a great provider. But okay. The sex is still primo," she said.

"Hmm. Well, I'm still only so-so in the sex department as you were more than happy to remind in times gone by. And, I am a good provider, and no I don't have to worry about the monthly electric bill. We all make our choices," I said.

"Yes, and I sure would like to have a couple of mine back,” she said.

"Hmm, me too," I said. She smiled at that, I think a little hopefully.

"Lindsey asks about you from time to time. It was she who showed me the article about you and your wife and that charity thing and all. You need to drop by and say hello from time to time. I would make it worth your while," she said. Her look was absolutely mercenary. I looked her askance.

"Are you offering to spread for me, Sam?" I said.

"Read it any way you want," she said, smiling. "But, Lindsey would love to see you once in a while.

"I'll take it under advisement," I said. I had to guess that I really never had known this woman. It had been a million years ago that we'd danced together. Now, the only one I danced with was my wife and sexual mentor, Lana Turner nee Lang.



I did drop by the Hoerter residence from time to time after my little talk with Sam. But, every time I did Lana was on my arm. We had them over for barbecues, and we attended a few at their house as well. I had the feeling that the two of them got off on rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. And, every time we did consort with them I got looks from Sam that were a mix of come-ons, and, frustration with herself for choosing badly.

Lindsey did go to Yale. She got a full ride scholarship from an anonymous donor; that everybody in our circle knew the name of. Well, I had become attached to the kid. Besides everybody can use a cardio-vascular surgeon in the family.

I had the feeling that I could have had Sam any time I wanted by snapping my fingers. But, I would never do her again. The last thing I needed now was a prostitute. And no, Lana ain't no prostitute. She's an ex-prostitute.

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