The Luckiest Man in the World

"You were amazing," I told her.

I used the facecloth to clean myself, then climbed in the tub behind her, holding her in my arms. "I love you, Mrs. Hammonds."

She giggled. "No shit."

"You never stop surprising me," I said, kissing her neck.

"Good. I'm not even going to ask if you liked that. Crap, I won't be able to move for two days."

"Don't tease me. Having you helpless like that could end up killing me. My hearts not strong enough."

I got out of the tub, dried off, then helped her out and did the same for her. She giggled as I lifted her in my arms, and took her back to our bed.

"I need to make love to you now, my perfect wife."

She leaned back, beckoning me. "I'll never say no to you. Never."

We laid together, kissing like teenagers, her hand working below my waist. When I was hard for her, I moved between her legs, and made slow easy love to her. Twice.

I laid back, holding her on my body, exhausted, a permanent grin etched across my face.

"Go ahead, baby. Say it. I know you want to, Mr. Lucky."

I kissed her. "The luckiest man in the world. I dare anyone to argue otherwise."

"And I'm the luckiest woman in the world. Match made in heaven."

* * *

In the office the next morning, Sandra walked into his office as soon as he got there. Alan learned she knew what had happened, after calling his house, and covered for him, sending messages to his boss and the people working for him that he was unavailable for the day, on personal time.

"You didn't really hit her, did you?" Sandra asked.

"What do you think?" he responded.

"Of course not. But why would she say you did?"

Alan gave her a wry smile. "Easiest way to get rid of me. It sucks to be a man, in the eyes of the law. Any complaint of violence, whatsoever, and the man goes to jail. Period. She got what she wanted, and now I can't have any contact with her. If she calls here, make sure you let her know that, and don't put her through. I don't want to go to jail, just so she can explain herself."

"What are you going to do now?" she asked.

"I've got a place to live. I've got my work. I'm going to divorce her ass, put her through the wringer if I can. Get every penny possible out of the divorce and make sure she doesn't get to live in the house. I'm not going to support a woman who puts me in jail for spite. I'll leave her in the poor house if I can."

"Alan! That's not like you. You've never been spiteful or cruel. She's your wife, the mother of your children."

"Sit in jail for a couple of days, and see how you feel. I don't want to talk about it anymore. Don't bring her up, now or in the future."

Alan managed to get through the work day, and did some minimal shopping at a local thrift store for the minimum he could live on. Whatever he couldn't find at the thrift store, he picked up at Wal-Mart. Not a big fan of the place, but it was convenient and cheap. He ate at Waffle house, and called it a day.

The following day her father called. The two of them had always been on good terms.

"She needs to talk to you," he finally said.

"No can do. Her little lying stunt has me under protective order not to contact her at all. You need to start preparing a room for her to stay. I'm going to have her out of that house as soon as I can. I'm not going to pay for a cheat and a liar to live in my house, when I can't."

"I hear you're the cheat, not her," her father said angrily.

"Six months of dating behind my back, lying to me twice a week. She cut me off totally. So yes, I had sex. It was good. Better than her to be honest. Much better," Alan said.

"She didn't cheat. She wasn't dating. She was going dancing with the girls," Becca's father tried to reply calmly.

"Would you put up with that? Lying about where she was going and who she was seeing for six months. Take her word that she wasn't cheating when she lied about everything else? She could have told me. Not cut me off. She's a liar, a cheat, and a piss-poor human being who put me in jail for no reason. I'm going to take her down, leave her penniless. You can take care of her if you want. I'll be damned if I will."

"We'll see who leaves who penniless!" the older man snapped. Just the answer that Alan was hoping for.

"So you're a cuckold too? You'd put up with your wife fucking around behind your back? Thanks for the info, maybe I'll give Ellen a call."

"YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH! IF YOU EVER CALL THIS HOUSE AGAIN I'LL DESTROY YOU!"

"Cluck-cluck-cluck. Give Ellen my love. I'll do it in person first chance I get." He listened to the dead air on the line with a good deal of satisfaction.

Alan got served at work on Friday. She was asking for almost everything. 80/20 division of cash, stock options, investments. Even 80% of his retirement 401K. She wanted the house, and for him to continue paying for it for ten years. It would be paid off before then. He marked out the 10 years, and wrote 8, the remaining time on the mortgage. Even though it wouldn't matter. He initialed the change. She was divorcing him on the basis of adultery. He left a note that irreconcilable differences could be settled in 60 days. If she would change that, he wouldn't fight it.

She asked for alimony, 50% of his pay. Alan knew that there was no way the court would grant that, and changed it to 35% so it wouldn't look too suspicious. Not that it would matter much in the long run.

When he was done with his changes, he made copies and had the original document couriered to the law office on the letter head. He included a complete, updated copy of their financial records, and notarized limited power of attorney to contact his banks and investment companies for any information needed. Then he made the call.

The lawyer was surprised at his quick response, and assured Alan that he'd get a call back as soon as the documents arrived. She thanked him for being prompt in his reply.

The call came in just after 4:00, and the attorney insisted on going over all the details. Alan explained his rationale for the change in the time he'd be required to pay the mortgage, and explained that he'd accept either 50% of his pay, after the mortgage was paid, or 35%. Mrs. Davis said she thought she could work with what he'd offered, and would get back to him.

Alan smirked. Work with it? He'd given her a gift and she damn well knew it.

On Monday the lawyer called, and told him they'd accepted all the changes as he'd asked, and the papers had been filed.

On Tuesday, Alan disappeared.

* * *

Becca was worried. Bills were paid, and the bank accounts hadn't been touched. She had moved 80% of the funds out of the joint account, and took 80% of the CDs. Money was deposited into the joint account, and none removed. The day after the papers were signed, apparently he'd cashed out the CDs and whatever remained of their investments.

She talked to Sandra, who told her that he'd resigned on Tuesday, effective immediately, taking his accrued vacation and sick leave, nearly six weeks' worth.

After the first month, she'd talked to the kids, and they hadn't heard from him. She even called his mother, taking a tongue lashing for the way Becca had treated her son. No, she didn't know where he was, hadn't heard from him since he'd told her about the divorce. Even if she had, she wouldn't tell her. Becca didn't argue when she was called an ungrateful, lying bitch.

Christmas came and went, as did the New Year. It was difficult. Sitting at the table with all three of her children who had shown up to support her, along with David's fiancée. The empty seat at the head of the table, which nobody seemed inclined to sit in was a sad statement. No card from her husband of twenty-five years. Nothing. She received a call from his mother, asking if Becca had heard from him. His mother had received a ten thousand dollar check, in an envelope with no return address. He said he loved her, and always would. That was the extent of his contact.

During the dinner prayer, Becca choked up when Carrie prayed that her father was well and happy. She had to leave the table for a moment to compose herself.

After 60 days, Becca received notice that the divorce was official. She was lonely in the house, devastated by the collapse of their marriage. She still didn't understand how it could go so bad, so quickly. Twenty five years.

He had known about her going out dancing. He'd admitted as much, but never said a word about it, until that fateful afternoon. She'd made the horrible mistake of going along with Margie's accusation. She had made a criminal out of her husband, out of spite and anger. It had been the death of her friendship with Margie, and the last nail in the coffin of her marriage.

The mortgage was paid, and money was deposited in their joint account monthly. She still had insurance, which she used to see a doctor and get on anti-depressants, for all the good that did for her.

She searched for him, asking everyone she knew, reviewing calling records, old credit card bills, anything she could find. She was considering hiring a private investigator to find him.

One lead panned out, a mysterious phone number on his cell-phone bill, and she found herself in the Hilton restaurant sitting across from Amber, the marriage wrecker. She was a little surprised that it had been that easy to get her to agree to the meeting.

"Are you still seeing my husband?" Becca asked.

"No. Not since the day you walked in on us," Amber said calmly.

That didn't make sense. He'd spent the entire weekend with her. That's what led to the big blow-up in the first place. She stated as much to her lunch companion.

"No. He never called me again. He told me he wouldn't after your little show. He was devastated. I stayed with him for a couple of hours until he could pull himself together. He paid me one last time, and left."

"He paid you?" Becca asked, surprised.

"Of course. I don't do it for free, honey. $250 an hour for the full girlfriend experience. Dinner, dating, dancing. He only took advantage of the other 'benefits' twice. The first time and the last time." The beautiful woman laughed. "In public he was always a gentleman, he seemed almost like he was putting on a show, displaying me on his arm, kissing me, hugging me. In the bedroom he wouldn't even let me get undressed. We'd just lay together and talk. He was in a lot of pain."

"I imagine. The guilt was probably eating at him."

"No, I think it was more of a physical pain. He'd get so tired after dancing, and need to lay down. He was taking some kind of pills. It wasn't all the time, but it was noticeable. You must have noticed, living with him."

Becca thought about it. Alan never showed pain. He didn't complain when he smashed his thumb, losing a nail when working on the car. He was as stoic a man as she'd ever met. She recalled his holding her, crying, after the last time they'd made love. None of it made any sense to her.

She apologized for taking up the woman's time, her intention to attack the slut for breaking up her marriage abandoned. "If you do hear from him, would you please give me a call? I'm very worried. He disappeared almost three months ago, and I haven't heard from him since."

Amber looked concerned. "He ran? Doesn't seem like him. He talked very lovingly of you and the kids. He said you'd been the perfect wife. Didn't jive too well with what he was doing, but I wasn't being paid to judge him."

"He...he disappeared. He's still paying the bills, and maintaining all the insurances. I need to know where he is. Please." Becca pleaded.

Amber took her number and assured her that if she heard from Alan again, she'd let her know.

It was February before she made the big break. She had a medical appointment and there was an issue with her insurance. Her policy number had changed. She had received her new card in the mail, figuring it was the annual update, but her co-pay had been reduced. After over an hour on the phone with the company she was thoroughly confused. Her insurance had been paid for the year, she was the only one on it. Her husband's Cobra had expired and he had purchased a new, better plan.

She asked if she could get a copy of her old medical statements, and received it in the mail a few days later. An afternoon of phone calls and she knew.

Damn him.

* * *

It was a huge party. Our family, friends, children all present. Becca was wearing the tennis bracelet I'd given her.

We sat on the couch, watching a DVD the kids had made of our marriage. Pictures and clips from our wedding until today. Twenty five years together. Twenty five perfect years. She crawled into my lap, almost as slender at 50 years old as she had been when I first met her. Still the most beautiful woman I knew.

We laughed and joked with everyone else, as we took our ribbing.

When it ended, we accepted hugs and kisses from everyone. Congratulations for being the model marriage. The perfect couple. It was hard to hold back the tears.

We were both surprised when we were pushed to the front door. I was given a small overnight bag, and the door was opened. A stretch limo waited by the curb.

David gave me a pat on the back. "Go on. Your chariot awaits. Thanks for being the best parents in the world."

I hugged my kids, and took my perfect wife, the love of my life, by the hand, and out to our ride. The chauffeur held the door for us.

We took advantage of the champagne. "Did you know about this?" Becca asked.

"I'm as surprised as you."

We were taken to the hotel, where a woman in uniform met us. "Thank you for choosing us to celebrate this occasion." A porter took the bag from me, and we followed our host.

She took us to the top floor, and opened the door for us. The suite was amazing. Huge, beautiful. We walked in looking around. "Pound 50 on the phone if you need anything. Anything at all," the woman told us. She smiled, taking our hands into hers. "Somebody loves you a lot. You're the talk of the hotel you know. We're honored you're here."

I reached for my wallet and she stopped me. "No. Everything's been taken care of, very generously I might add. Please, don't hesitate to call."

They left us, and Becca and I stood looking at each other. "Can you believe this?" she asked.

"I can't believe any of it. Not from the day you first sat across from me in that bookstore."

"Twenty five years," she said softly. "I know I should feel old, but you make me feel like a teenager. I love you, Alan."

We took advantage of the amenities. We had more champagne and strawberries delivered. We spent half an hour in the hot tub. She excused herself in the bedroom, to prepare for me. She called me in and my heart almost stopped, gazing on her beauty.

She was wearing a pink top with completely transparent material hanging below her hips. A tiny thong, with pink bows on the side covered her hips. She smiled. "Another gift, from your secretary of all people. Is there something I should know?"

I moved closer, holding her in my arms. "Yes. I love you more today than I ever have. I'll love you even more tomorrow. I adore you Mrs. Hammonds. I can hardly wait for the next 25 years."

"You want to call that pretty little girl up here? She looked like she really liked you. She did say 'anything' after all."

I laughed, and swatted her backside. "No way. We've talked about that. Seeing you kissing another man almost killed me the one time we thought about trying that."

"You? That bimbo had her tongue down your throat not five seconds after we switched places. I was going to scratch her eyes out. Soft swing my ass."

"There's nobody for me but you, Becca. Never. I'm a one woman man."

"Ditto, baby. I couldn't imagine being with anyone but you. Are you going to talk all night, or ravage me? You can pretend I'm your hotel girl. You like blonds, don't you?"

I pulled her on the bed, and over my knee, listening to her squeal. I smacked her adorable bottom. "Not even as a joke." I smacked her again, and she giggled.

"What?"

"Twenty five years before I learn you have a spanking fetish? You've been holding out on me."

I pulled her bottoms down, and swatted her bare ass. "Never. I hold nothing back. You know that. Not since our first anniversary."

"Mmm, I remember, butt boy. You love this little ass, don't you?" she wiggled her butt.

I leaned over and kissed her bare cheeks. "Of course. Every part of you."

She rolled over, looking up at me. "Love me, Alan."

I left her in the top, the material beautiful against her skin. I removed the bottoms, untying the sides and slipping them off. I moved her to the middle of the bed, and went down on her. It was easy, natural, almost automatic, the way I had her juicing up for me.

She returned the favor, using her mouth and her knowledge of me to get me hard. We came together with the ease that only years of intimate knowledge can bring.

She moved on top of me, and used her experience to wring my finish from me, not before I was able to get her off first.

We rested, her weight on my, her head on my shoulder. "Thank you for a magical life," I told her.

"Thank you for making all my dreams come true." She giggled. "You think it would shock our party guests to know what we're up to?"

I laughed, hugging her, rocking her back and forth in my arms. "I doubt that."

"Does it ever surprise you?" she asked.

"Every day. How it can get better and better, when it's already the best. I'm..."

"The luckiest. Yes. Everyone knows. Both of us are." She kissed me. "Want to go for seconds?"

"Willing to help?"

She moved down between my legs, licking her lips salaciously. "Always."

Alan woke, and instinctively reached out for the button for more painkiller. A hand slipped into his, and he looked over.

"Happy Valentine's day," she said softly.

He was in shock for a few moments, trying to take in his surroundings. There was a large heart-shaped balloon tied to his headboard, and his wife was looking down at him with tears in her eyes.

"You weren't supposed to know," he said.

She leaned over and hugged him. "I'm sorry. Sorry for everything. Please forgive me. I should never have lied to you."

He reached up, moving the tube going into his arm out of the way, and hugged her. "No need. I know you didn't do anything. I'm sorry I had to throw that in your face. I'd been a little jealous, I admit, and watched you a couple of times. You were as loyal as ever. I know you never cheated."

"Then why?" she asked.

He felt a touch on his opposite arm, and looked over to see his three children there. "Happy Valentine's Day, Daddy," Carrie whispered, leaning over and kissing his forehead.

She echoed her mother's question. "Why, Daddy? Why did you abandon us?"

"Our insurance. It wasn't going to cover my expenses. It would drain our funds, take everything we'd worked so hard for. In the end you'd be stuck with nothing, on top of losing me."

"That was a decision we should have made together," Becca said firmly.

"No. I knew what you would choose, and I couldn't live with that. I made sure that you got everything I could legally give you. There are three gifts for the children with what was left after I cashed out the 401K. About $35,000 apiece. The mortgage is paid off. I hope you have enough to get by, and my life insurance should help. It's only about $750,000. I wish I'd taken out more when I could have."

"I don't understand. You gave away everything?"

"I had to. Medicare is covering everything now. If I had money, they'd take that until I didn't have any. I'd rather you have it than them. I'm sorry."

"Your affair. Why did you sleep with that woman?"

"I needed you to divorce me. You had to come after me, asking for as much as possible, so I could give you your freedom. You're a beautiful woman, Becca. The best wife in the world. Better than I deserved. I want you to be happy, find a loving man you can give yourself to. Live well, for me. Please."