When We Were Married Ch. 04A

She stood up and walked away without another word.

I sat there and thought about ordering another one. I was still thinking about it when a slight redheaded man sat beside me as I finished the Tequila Crude. He was out of uniform so it took me a second to recognize him.

"Father Dunleavy. And a fine mornin' to ya," I said in my best fake Irish brogue.

He just smiled and said, "Keep your day job, Mr. Maitland. What is that splendid concoction you're finishing there?"

I told him and he flagged down a waiter and ordered one for himself and another for me.

"It's early to be drinking, Mr. Maitland, but in the words of that great American song, 'It's 5 o'clock somewhere'!"

We talked about generalities, world politics, the possibility of more tribal conflicts in Rwanda and whether Tequila Crudes or Bloody Mary's were the true uncrowned great drink of the western world.

"You can't talk about Russia, because they don't know anything but Vodka there, or Italy because it's wine this and wine that," he said smiling.

We drank for a while and then he said, "You know that she is greatly conflicted about the attraction she feels for you?"

"Is that what she talked about with you?"

"Among other things. I gave her what advice I could, but I couldn't give her any answers."

"I would think as a Catholic Priest the answer would be pretty obvious. She's married. She shouldn't be going to bed with anybody but her husband."

"Most people would say that, and probably 99 percent of the time that rule would be sufficient. But...do you know her situation, that of her and her husband?"

"Not only that, but I know her husband. I would have called him a friend until I went to bed with his wife. I assume you know that because everybody seems to know everything on this ship. Since I am cuckolding him, I'm not sure how I'd characterize our relationship."

"That is only a word."

"But words, as a famous American conservative political commentator says, mean something. I tend to agree. Call it anything you want, I pursued and bedded a married woman who I think loves her husband. I did the same thing to him that a son-of-a-bitch did to me when he destroyed my marriage. I can't say I regret what I did, but I'm not proud of it."

Dunleavy took a lick of salt, a bite of lemon and a splash of Tequila, then said, "It is a shame that God is not as wise as we are. You know the truth of the matter but I'm not sure that God is as sure as you are."

"What is there to be unsure of, father. I'm an attorney. I deal with facts, with laws, with standards. There is no doubt she's married, no doubt married people should be faithful to their spouses, and no doubt she wasn't. Where is the uncertainty?"

"There are no absolute equations to govern the human heart. There are no certainties. There are God's rules for us follow, but he knows and we know that we will not always follow them. Sometimes we can't.

"Aline told me that you said you pride yourself on being an upright man, on doing the right thing. From what I heard last night, I believe you are a good man. And I believe you try to do the right thing. But don't abuse yourself because you did something you think is wrong. No matter how good you are, only God ALWAYS does the right thing, and even he can be moved by pity and love."

"Are you sure you're a Catholic priest. I always thought clergymen would be more – certain –of the rules."

He set his empty glass down beside his deck chair and reached into his pants pocket to pull out a slim wallet. He pulled out two laminated photos. One showed a pretty redheaded young woman, in the dress of an earlier generation. She had curly hair, dimples and a sweet smile. A true Colleen. I felt certain my father would have recognized and been attracted to her by the Irish quality of her smile.

The second photo was of a slender young man, probably in his 30s, standing at a podium and receiving what looked like a plaque. He looked a lot like Father Dunleavy.

"I entered the priesthood a little later than most. I was 25. And engaged to be engaged. In Ireland even back in the 80s, things moved a little differently. This is a photo of Brianne O'Collins, the girl I had planned to marry since I was seven years old and she was six.

"But, in my 20s I began to feel the call. I fought it as long as I could, but in the end, I knew I had no choice. God wanted me in the priesthood and I could not bring a wife along.

"It broke her heart, as I knew it would. After I entered, she refused to talk to me, to receive me calls. My letters came back unanswered.

"Two years after I entered I went to her home and her father and three brothers, all big bruisers, convinced me with their fists that Brianne wanted no more of me and had, in fact, decided to marry another man.

"It wasn't until a year later that I learned that she had taken her own life earlier that summer. Pills. They buried her in our hometown. I visited her graveside. On her tombstone they had written, 'Returned to the Angels.'

"I collapsed at her side and the only reason I did not take my own life is because I knew it would be the ultimate sin. Sometimes I think I made the wrong decision. Our faith teaches us that suicide is the one unforgivable sin, and thus she must be in Hell now.

"It was only years later that I learned she had had a son seven months after I entered the priesthood. The family kept his existence secret but it got out.

"When I found out I called, sent letters, hired private investigators, used the resources of the Vatican, but her parents and brothers, the whole clan, kept the wall up. They are powerful and wealthy, and they did not fear even the Vatican. He grew up without my ever seeing him in the flesh.

"A friend saw this picture in an Irish paper when he received a plaque for some business achievement. He went into his family business and apparently was very successful. When I saw this picture, I sent him a letter telling him who I was and asking if I could meet him. I figured as an adult, I could reach him without his family getting in the way.

"Three weeks later I received a brief reply. 'I've lived 25 years without you in my life. You never saw fit to be part of my life. I see no reason to change that'."

He looked at both pictures for a moment, then returned them to his wallet.

"I thought about pursuing it, but then....He was right. He has lived his entire life without me in it. It was her family that kept us apart. But....I made the decision to abandon his mother. And I believe she must have loved me enough to be unwilling to use her pregnancy as a tool to stop me from going into the priesthood.

"I had given up any right to be a part of his life, and perhaps that is the way God willed it."

He looked up at me and perhaps it was the sea air that made his eyes gleam.

"So, you see, Mr. Maitland, I have no answers for you, or Aline. Or anyone else. I do God's will as I see it, but when it comes to matters of the heart..."

He got up.

"All I can tell you is that you seem to make her happy. Does she make you happy?"

I thought about his question. Are crack addicts happy when they are deep in a drug addled dream world? Are drug dealers happy when they've made a big score? Was Doug happy the night he took my wife and fucked her senseless, when she undoubtedly squealed out how much she loved his big cock?

Was happiness the only thing that mattered in this life?

Then she was standing beside me in the brilliant sunlight. Black hair, blue and gold uniform and a brilliant gold and diamond Fleur-de-lis pin catching the light and throwing it back.

She didn't look back at me as she said, "I have a few hours free, Mr. Maitland. Can you think of something we might do to pass the time?"

"I have a few ideas."

She started walking away, saying, "If we meet at your room, you'll have to fill me in – literally , of course."

As I watched that fantastic ass twitching away from me I knew I was lost. Sometimes I think free will is an illusion. I got up and walked in the direction she had taken.

############################

Tuesday, July 19, 2005 – 12:30 p.m.

She lifted her head up from the papers she was reading as she heard the knock on her office door and saw Mark Trenton poking his head in her office door. He smiled at her and said, "Hi, Deb. Could you head over to my office. Rutledge wanted you to take a look at an article in the Journal. Thought it might apply to some of our classes."

"Can I get a rain check, Mark, I'm really jammed. I've got a class coming in a half hour and I still have a little bit of prep to finish."

She didn't that her head wanted to spin like a top, she felt sick to her stomach and she wanted nothing more than to drive to her parents' house, put her head in her mother's lap and cry like a baby.

"C'mon, won't take but a few minutes. Look, I'll spring for coffee at Starbucks afterwards. You know you love their cinnamon Cappuccinos. My treat."

That didn't make her heart beat faster, but there was no point in being rude. He wasn't a bad guy, just married to a mousy little bitch that obviously didn't do anything for him in bed which led to his hanging around her like a horny puppydog too much of the time. But, shit, she needed all the friends she could find right now.

"OK, big guy, lead the way."

She followed him to his office and he gestured to a newspaper lying on his desk.

"Have a seat and read it. Shouldn't be but a few minutes."

She sat down and started reading and noticed he closed the door to his office. Secretaries gossiped and he definitely didn't want any reports getting back to her about the office sex symbol being in HIS office.

Besides, he was harmless. He was one of the men who would rub his dick up against her when he got her dancing at a university party, but he acted like he'd run like a scared rabbit if she ever reached down and grabbed it. Not that she ever would.

He was standing behind her as she kept reading and trying to figure what the hell he thought she might be able to get out of this article when she felt his hand circle her breast and squeeze. The first thought that entered her mind was that she had to try to stomp on his instep and kick him in the balls because he had obviously lost his mind.

He squeezed again and bent down to kiss her on the side of the face. Jesus Christ! He had just licked her face with his tongue. She pushed the chair back until he hit the bookcase behind his desk hard and yelped. She managed to twist the chair around to face him and realized she hand her hands out with the fingernails poised like claws to rip his face.

"What is the matter with you, Mark? Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?"

He hesitated and she saw that he was frightened, then something seemed to stiffen his spine and he reached out to grab her by the wrists.

He bent in to kiss her and forced her head back against the chair and did his best to force his tongue between her teeth?

She finally thought, fuck it, the day has been too bad so far to put up with this bullshit. She opened her teeth, let him dart his tongue in and then bit down as hard as she could. He would have screamed but she had his tongue in a firm grip. She tasted blood and debated biting his damned tongue off, but that would create more trouble than she could handle.

Finally she let him go and he fell backwards. She bent down beside him as he scrambled away and took his hand and put it on her breast and squeezed her hand down over his. She smiled at him and said, "If you wanted a feel, Mark, why didn't you just ask? Why act like an asshole? Do you want to feel my titty?"

His face was a kaleidoscope of shifting emotions but lust won out and he squeezed hard enough to make her yelp. He took her hand and placed it on his cock, which was growing harder by the second. She almost sneered. He was no jolly green giant. Bill was bigger. But she just rubbed and squeezed until he got as hard as she figured he was going to get. Then she stepped away and came down on it with her knee as hard as she could.

He would have screamed except she placed her hand over his mouth and when he tried to gasp for air, she knelt down again and put pressure on it with her knee.

"You say one fucking sound and I will turn that pathetic dick and balls to a paste, you fucker. You understand me?"

He tried to wriggle away but when she put her weight down he stopped and gasped again.

"Okay, okay, don't do anything stupid. I'm sorry."

"What is going on, Mark? You've never been this stupid before. You realize I could have you arrested for rape?"

"Rape you?" He actually sneered. "Who'd believe you could be raped by anybody?"

She wanted to scratch his eyes out but restrained herself.

"You know I am thinking seriously of ripping your tongue out and pulling your dick off with it, you piece of shit."

"Why? Because I made a pass at you? Shit, you've rubbed my dick before at dances, just like you have a dozen other guys I know. Everybody knows you're a slut just waiting for the right guy. I almost won the pool. I had you down for fucking Doug Baker three months after you met him. You held out longer than I expected."

"So I'm a slut because you assholes couldn't keep from rubbing your little weinies all over me in public places and I didn't want to raise a fuss?"

"Oh, give me a break, Debbie. Everybody knows what you are. You loved having guys rubbing their dicks on you and feeling up those big boobs. Any decent woman would have slapped my face when I practically fucked you on the dance floor, but not you. You enjoyed it. You know what you are? They had a name for it once. You're just a fucking cock tease."

Just for once she wished she were a man so she could beat the shit out of him.

"Alright, you're a delusional asshole. But why here, why today?"

"Because Doug has been dragging around looking like his best friend died for the last two days. We all figured something happened between you guys. Which means you're fair game. I figured, why the hell not. And why not? You're almost not married. If you're not with Doug, you gotta be getting action from somebody. Why not me?"

She backed away from him, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or kick him again.

"Why not you, Mark? Why wouldn't I fuck you? Well, lets total up the reasons, shall we? You're a slimy little toad for one. You've got a dinky little dick for another. That's two. You make me physically sick. That's number three. If I let you into my pussy, I have a feeling you're the kind of selfish asshole that would squirt before I came the first time. That's number four. Because to you I'm just a pair of tits and a pussy. You don't give a damn about me. That's number five.

She stood up and backed away from him carefully.

"I've seen that mousy little wife of yours and felt sorry for her because of the way she looked. Now I'm sorry for her because your sorry ass and that pitiful excuse for a dick is all she has to look forward to in the bedroom. Unless..she's smart enough to be getting some strange."

She made it to the door while he was trying to get to his feet and calling her a bitch.

She was turning and heading for her office when she bounced off somebody. She lost her balance and was going down when a strong male arm caught her arm first and then her waist and kept her from falling. Inadvertently, maybe, he wound up with one large breast cradled in one hand. He pulled away as if she were on fire.

A face with a broad forehead, dark brown eyes and full lips stared at her from a foot away and said, "I'm sorry, Miss. But at the speed you were going, I couldn't get out of your way."

He glanced at her face and then his eyes dropped down to her chest.

Everything came together. Doug and Kelly. Bill. Myers cutting her off at the knees. Kelly leaving her alone in the house. That asshole Trenton. The whole fucking male part of the human race.

"Asshole. You didn't get enough of a feel when you grabbed me just then. Why are all men such asshole bastards. Take a good look and get the hell away from me. Pervert!"

There were people walking around them and naturally everyone stopped to look at the two of them, The man flushed a deep red, acted as if he wanted to say something, then just shook his head and turned and walked away.

Two seconds later she realized she was the asshole, but he was gone and she still had to prepare for that class. To hell with it. To hell with men. To hell with sex. To hell with sex with men. Maybe she should just have been a lesbian. God knows, they couldn't be harder to live with than men.

######################################

Tuesday, July 19, 2005 – 4 p.m.

The last student of the last class of the day had finally slouched out. Because no one was around, she dropped her head to the lectern she had stood behind for most of the classes. The classes were large enough that the classes were basically lectures which she delivered standing behind the lectern.

If she had had a cot in her office she would have thought about just dropping onto it and trying to forget this day had ever happened. Make that this week. Make that the last four months. Make it the last five years.

But BJ would be coming home around 8 p.m. from a friend's house. It would only be the two of them. And she wanted to be there when he got home.

She knew she was being overemotional. Kelly would eventually come back. Teenage rebellions didn't last forever. Doug was gone, but she'd meet somebody else. Jesus Christ, of that she had no doubt. As long as it wasn't a slimeball like Trenton.

Bill was gone, but he'd been gone a long time. As she thought about him she felt a stab of regret and at the same time a moment of rage. If he had been in front of her...She rubbed her forehead. It almost felt like a migraine.

Granted he was an asshole. Granted he had thrown their marriage away. Granted he had done his best to ruin her career and her life because she wanted a life of her own.

But still...those flashes of rage and anger... they almost scared her. They had had too many years, he had given her too many orgasms, they had been happy for a long time. Why were there those flashes of rage, of hatred even. She shouldn't hate him, even now. And she knew she didn't, because there were other moments...

Oh hell. She'd have to call her gynecologist and have her hormones tested. There was too much crap in her life to be going crazy at the same time. Maybe she just needed some hormones, or tranquilizers.

As she was walked out she couldn't help hearing two secretaries in the common office section of the business department where six secretaries shared common quarters.

"...I know what you mean. I saw him over in the restaurant with the head of English. They're making a big deal out of him, but, damn, he is hot. That hair and those eyes....you could drown in them...

"yeah, he's hot...in a tweedy sort of way.."

"yeah, very cultured...but I wonder what he'd look like out of those tweeds. He's not super built, but it looks like what he has is nice..looks like he has a nice tight ass...for an older guy..."

"damn...girl you are a cradle robber....you're calling him older..he can't be much more than 40- 45"

"to you that's young..to me he's older...but I wouldn't kick him out of bed anyway...."

She walked over to the two secretaries who were unaware she'd been eavesdropping. She could almost read their minds. None of the women working here had any great love for her. That was partly her fault, but damn they were a bunch of envious bitches.

She smiled at them and tried to be just another woman working in the building.

"Hi, you wouldn't be talking to a guy about six foot tall, dark brown eyes? We nearly knocked each over near 1 o'clock outside Professor Trenton's office. I've never seen him around here? That sound like your guy? Who is he?"