We Need to Talk Ch. 03

Around noon, Myra called to say she had quit her job. She said the office was in an uproar after the weekend arrest of David Newton, but she didn't know why, exactly. Myra's boss, in particular, seemed upset. Myra had talked to other woman employees, heard the same story of Newton seducing other married women, and made a snap decision. She smelled fear in the air and heard rumors the small company was in danger of collapse.

About ten o'clock, she had marched right past her boss' secretary into his office, closed the door, and buttonholed him at his desk.

Myra accused her boss of employing a known sexual predator, of Newton sexually harassing her and other women, and telling him she was going to see a lawyer and sue. Her boss already knew about Newton's arrest and Myra saw the fear in his eyes. She thought it disproportionate to her accusations and made her decision on the spot to get out, fast. But first she demanded a performance bonus, in return for which she would sign a letter promising not to sue for sexual harassment.

An hour later she had signed a letter and left with her final paycheck, plus a bonus check for $5,000. Paltry? She didn't think so. Something bad was coming, she could feel the vibrations of an impending cave-in, and a little piece of something was a lot better than an expensive, prolonged fight and a bigger piece of nothing. Smart girl, so decisive, and so typical of Myra.

She knew that creditors or the IRS might try to claw back her 5K, but receiving it as part of her salary might mitigate that possibility. In any event, she was done. Finished.

I hoped she would make me her new priority because I needed extensive re-work and an overhaul. I hoped she thought I was worth it. She said I was.

*****

That evening on the sofa we were cuddling, discussing the events of the last few days, and reconnecting. I felt my craving for alcohol return, but upon analyzing it, concluded it was only force of habit. Evenings meant drinking. It was a conditioned response, not a true physical addiction for me. If that's all it was, I knew I could beat it if I could just stay away from the sauce for a month or two. The conditioned response would fade with time. I sucked it up.

Myra was in a mood and I wasn't quite sure how to read her. I just let it play out, see were she went. It didn't take long.

"Wendell, do you ever think of Claire Haskell?" she asked.

Uh, oh. I vowed to myself to be honest with my wife.

"Truthfully, yes. I hadn't thought about her in years until you brought her up Friday night, but since then she seems to pop into my head at odd moments."

"Do you miss her?" she asked. My body stiffened and Myra noticed.

"No. Not at all. Just...curious. I hope things turned out well for her, that's all." And truthfully? That was all. I had no romantic feelings anymore for Claire Haskell.

"She was my friend, too," Myra replied.

I groaned inside. The specter of Claire Haskell was back. I owed it to Myra to let her deal with the memory of Claire whichever way she wanted. If she wanted to talk, I would listen. Myra led the conversation somewhere else but it was clear she wasn't done with Claire Haskell.

*****

It's fun to watch a fellow professional at work, and Stan was quick but thorough. Stan took his own vital signs rather than leaving that to the help. He drew his own blood, too, while keeping up an easy patter. After the fifth Vacutainer of blood I said, "Jeez, leave some for me."

He picked up another Vacutainer, filled it, and said, "You got plenty." He poked me in my substantial gut and said, "What you gonna do about that?"

I told him of my plans to visit Claude's gym and my already active walk-run program with Myra. Actually, I couldn't hope to keep up with Myra on the road.

"I send a lot of guys like you to see Claude. You going to work the bag, get your speed back, work on your combinations, stuff like that?"

"Yeah."

"Just be careful and build slowly, you're not a kid anymore. Listen to Claude. Well, we're going to double-up your statin and double-up on your ARB to get your cholesterol and blood pressure back under control. Lose the weight and exercise, and you can probably go back to the lower dose, or maybe get off altogether. I'll send you copies of the labs. See you back in six months. You need a script or can you take care of it?"

"I'll deal," I said. Another perk of the biz, writing my own prescriptions.

We talked shop some more before I left. Stan had more patients to see and I could sense the strain. Like all of us, he was working harder and longer for less and less.

I didn't mention my alcohol problem although Stan probably knew, or had heard rumors. I would deal with that on my own.

*****

Myra took the lead that night. Twice in two days was a modern record and I hoped I was up to the task. I was. Myra wanted to get right to it and she was more than ready. Talkative, too.

"Come on, Lover, just put it in me, do it to me. God, your cock is hitting all the right places."

This was a new Myra, but I wasn't going to complain. She wanted to talk dirty.

"Fuck, you're really filling me up. Is this how you fucked Claire? Did she like your cock?"

Claire again. I was doomed to relive my affair. It wasn't doing anything for me but Myra was working herself up by talking about it, so I joined in. I'd wind her up!

"Claire loved my cock. She had a tight little pussy and always said I stretched her out like George never could." I was stretching out the truth here myself, but Myra was eating it up.

"She liked it hard, I'll bet she liked it rough," Myra said. She was panting now, meeting my thrusts with hers, and I could feel her heels digging into my ass. I ground my pelvis into hers with each hard push.

"She always wanted it hard. No matter how hard I fucked her, she always wanted more," I said. And that was mostly true.

"Did you fuck her in the ass? Was she an ass-slut? I'll bet she was," Myra said. "Tell me!"

That was a surprise, coming from a woman who thought anal sex was dirty.

"I'd break out a new tube of KY and screw on the nozzle tip. I'd push it up her ass and squirt in the whole tube. That always made her squeal, she said it was cold. I used lots of Crisco on my cock, too. We did it lots of ways but I liked her face down best. She had a marvelously soft ass to fuck against. I'd line up, work the head in, and then just drive it home. She'd cry out and call me an asshole fucker but that's the way she loved it. Afterwards, I'd get a warm towel and clean her up and we'd cuddle, but we never had much time for that. We always seemed to have to get back to you and George."

That did it. Myra arched her back and froze like a statue, then began convulsing in a way that was frightening. Nothing I could remember made her cum like me talking about fucking Claire. After years of absence, Claire seemed to have made her way back into my bed. I wasn't sure I liked it.

*****

Thanks for reading, let me know how you liked it. Suggestions? Chapter 4 is in process. Thank-you to Ausfet for her advice. Ausfet's stories are well worth seeking out.