Bean Counter Ch. 07

byCreamer©

"You said dating! You didn't say fucking!"

"What do you care?" I shot back. "I mean, really? You said that you didn't love me any more. Does it shock you to know that some other woman might find me attractive enough to fuck?"

"Not in MY house!" she declared hotly.

"It's not your house," I reminded her.

"I made this house a home!" she said, starting to weep. "I picked out this fucking furniture, the paint, the carpet, the, the—"

"Yes, and I paid for it," I said smoothly. "Every dime. Went into debt for it, if I recall correctly. So despite your artistic spin on the place, I'd have to say that it is MY house. If it makes you feel any better, she really loved the décor."

"You ASSHOLE!" she shrieked. "You're fucking other women!"

"And you're fucking other men!" I declared.

"Only one! And I love him!" she shot back.

"That's not my problem," I said, evenly. "I'll have you know that there have been a number of women who have expressed an interest in me as boyfriend material. And I've had to entertain the notion. I'm quite the catch, for someone so 'insensitive'. Apparently not everyone shares your opinion of bean counters. And a few are quite . . . adamant in their approach."

"Who the fuck is she?" she demanded.

"Which one?" I asked, innocently.

"The one whose scrawny ass fits into these!" she declared, brandishing the panties.

"I really don't think that would be productive to discuss," I said. "I mean, I haven't even met Tim yet. I don't think it would be proper to tell you whom my suitors were."

"Your sluts, you mean!" she snarled. "I can't believe you're fucking some strange skanky whore in my house!"

"She's not a stranger," I came back. "Well, at least this one isn't. As a matter of fact, you've usually gotten along pretty well with her. And you're the one who broke the vows. I'm just picking up the pieces."

Her eyes opened as wide as dinner plates. "Who the fuck is she?" she whispered harshly. I was enjoying this far, far too much. The irony was painfully delicious.

"She sometimes goes to your church," was all I would say. "See you tomorrow, then?" I asked, innocently. "Another nooner, perhaps?"

"I have to work," she spat, threw the panties in my face, and stomped out. The Gremlin started moments later, and puttered off. I sighed, put my dick away, and picked the pretty pink panties off of the coffee table where they had landed. I couldn't resist: I held them to my nose and sniffed the delicate aroma. Then I turned towards the camera on the bookshelf.

"Susan," I said, reprovingly shaking my finger at it, the panties fluttering as I did so, "That was very naughty of you."

I could hear the hysterical peals of laughter from all the way down stairs.

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