When We Were Married Ch. 05B

Teller kept quiet. There were times when patients needed to speak at their own pace.

She wiped a tear from her face and looked at the drop of her liquid on her fingertip as if she'd never seen a tear before.

"I like sex, doctor. I like having sex with men. I like being lusted after. I like that look in a man's eyes when he sees me for the first time and I KNOW that I could have him if I wanted him. When I met Bill...when I got to know him....when I fell in love with him...I didn't stop being what I am.

"He knew other men excited me....still do...always will....I'll probably be a flirt when I'm 80, if I make it that far.....I knew, or I learned, that he had doubts about me....I knew that...but what could I do? I can't change what I am.

"So I did everything I could to reassure him. No matter how hot other men got me, I always brought it home to him. And I think he liked it most of the time. It's a man thing. Most men like knowing they have something other men want -- as long as they don't have worry about losing it.

"And for the first ten years, before he joined that miserable fucking State Attorney's office and our marriage started dying, we were okay. I never cheated on him, although God knows there were lots of times I wished a little bit that I was still single. But I didn't. Honest to God."

Teller stopped her.

"There's no need to take a pledge to tell the truth, Debbie. You could lie all day to me and the only person it would hurt would be you. I believe you've told me the truth in our sessions. I trust you."

"I trusted myself until today, Doctor. Now I'm not so sure. But anyway, after he joined the State Attorney's Office, and after he left our marriage for his job, and my Aunt Clarice got dumped by her husband and kept telling me that Bill had to be cheating, that all men cheated, all men were pigs, I probably did things I shouldn't have done.

"I let men rub their dicks on me when they were dancing, once in a while I let a kiss go too far, and I did...I...uh.....there were two times when I jerk-masturbated a guy at a party when he got me alone.

"But I never gave anybody a blow job, I never put my hands on their naked dick, I never let anybody have...my pussy...because that was Bill's. Even if the son of a bitch didn't want it anymore and couldn't make good use of it anymore. By MY standards, and I'm the only one who counts, I kept my promise to Bill. I wore out two vibrators, but I never cheated.

"Or, I didn't think I did. Now, who knows. But as I can remember, I just drifted along fantasizing about other men, rubbing them sometimes. About three or four years ago, after Clarice...died....I started thinking seriously about leaving him. I tried to talk to him. God knows we had fights.

"But I couldn't tell him what I was really thinking. I couldn't tell him I teasing other men, because I knew how insecure he was. He always had doubts about his ability to...satisfy...me and if you tell a man he's no good in bed anymore, all it will do is push you toward a divorce quicker.

" I tried to get him to shape up, because I knew if he was in better shape, and looked better, he'd be better in bed and I'd be hotter around him. But that damned office always came first. I know that his job is his life. And it was probably innocent.

"But I could never quite get Clarice's words out of my head. She had loved her husband more than life. And he was about ten years older than Bill when he walked in one day and told her he was leaving her for a 25-year-old secretary in her office. It killed her. Although it took three years for her to die. So I wondered about Bill and that damned office. And maybe that's part of why I got so damned angry."

"So I was lonely and getting more and more unhappy and horny every day. But I couldn't tell him I was thinking about divorce. Because I was a coward, I guess. We had a good home, we were secure financially. We had two young children. It was...comfortable....That's a chickenshit word, but that's the way I felt. I kept praying that one day he'd wake up and realize what he was going to lose.

"But he never did, and one day I met Doug Baker. And looking back, if he'd wanted to, he could have had me in a couple days. But he played it cool. And somewhere along the way, even though I told myself he was just a friend, I knew I was going to wind up in bed with him. And I couldn't do that married to Bill. So I started seriously planning for a divorce, how I'd break it to Bill, to the kids. How'd we'd be financially.

"And I could have lived with that. I had been faithful to my marriage. I'd stayed with him as long as I could. I knew my mom and family and our friends would all think I was a terrible person. They'd all be sorry for poor Bill, because he was such a miserable fucking sad sack and I knew he'd be a basket case after I left him. But I'd know that I'd been a decent wife."

She looked up at Teller, her eyes dry now.

"And I find out that it was all bullshit. I was cheating on him. I did break my vows. I did revert to being a slut like I was in college. I don't know now if I can ever look him in the eye again. Dammit."

Teller just stared her for a few minutes.

"I've never felt guilty, doctor, about my life and the way I've lived it. And now I do."

"Okay," Teller said finally. "You're a cheating slut. Now what?"

"What?"

"I'm not sure that your interpretation of what we've learned through this session is accurate. I have some questions in the back of my mind about it. But for the sake of argument, let's grant that you broke your marriage vows, once or maybe many times. You had sex, with multiple partners, probably indulging in a number of what might be called risky or deviant sex practices.

"You're a cheating wife, an adulteress. By most men -- and women's -- standards, you're what society would call it a slut. So, what?"

She looked at him as if she couldn't believe what he'd said.

"So what? That makes me a terrible person, a liar, a cheat, a person who would hurt a man who loved her just to have bigger and better orgasms with strange men. What kind of mother does that make me? How could I ever talk about what's right and wrong with Kelly or BJ and keep a straight face. And if they ever find out...."

Teller leaned back and picked up his pipe, made a display of lighting it and took in a deep draught of aromatic smoke before releasing it.

"I concede your point, Ms. Bascomb," he said in a formal tone. "You are a terrible person. In other countries, you'd have the option of Hara-kiri or Seppuku, ritual suicide, to atone for your mistakes. We don't do that here. But pills and guns are always available. I believe you told me your husband left a handgun in your home."

She looked at him, her eyes opened wide in surprise.

"Doctor Teller, are you insane? You're suggesting I commit suicide because I cheated on my husband?"

He gave her a slight smile.

"No. You were starting to wallow in guilt about what you think you've learned and I was just trying to get you to look at the bigger picture. Assume that you have done a terrible thing, or things. There are only a certain number of ways to deal with that problem.

'You could commit suicide, which would permanently remove your guilt. Of course it would leave your children minus one parent, devastate your family, and even saddle your ex-husband with a mountain of grief on top of the pain you've already dealt him.

"Or, you could go to your husband, confess what you've done and either beg him to take you back or to forgive you. From what you've told me, you don't want to go back to him and confirming his suspicions of your unfaithfulness would help him to build a new life -- exactly how?"

"Or, third option. You could keep your mouth shut, let this secret go with you to your grave. There would be no unpleasant memories for your children or family to live with, and your husband would not have to remember you as a woman who cheated throughout his marriage, instead of at the very end.

"You can do whatever you want, but if you take the third option, you have to live with the guilt of what you've done, without trying to unload it on others, be as good a mother and daughter and ex-wife and possibly a future wife, as you can be. You have to live your life and maybe, just maybe, learn from your mistakes. It won't be as simple or easy as suicide, but it can be done."

He looked at her and didn't utter the thought running through his head.

"You can live with almost any amount of guilt, if you have to. I know."

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TUESDAY, AUGUST 30, 2005 -- 5 p.m.

He left her and went to the door to his office and locked it. He didn't want anyone wandering in. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted Aline to himself for right now. When he walked back to her they didn't touch again, just stood looking at each other.

"Why?"

"I missed you, Bill. I tried not to. I know you didn't want to see me again. But I missed you. I thought it would get better with time. But it doesn't."

"How could you get away from the Bonne Chance? And if you had that much free time, I thought....you'd be going home to Philippe and André?"

"It was time for me to leave the ship but Philippe called and told me that he has arranged membership for André in one of the most exclusive boy's fraternities in France. It will be a feather in the cap of André for the rest of his life. Most of the leaders of French government, industry, business, were members as boys. It's the equivalent of a club at...Oxford or Cambridge. You make friendships that will serve you the rest of your life."

She looked at her hand and I noted that she had not put her wedding ring back on, but she was looking at her ring finger and I knew who she was thinking about.

"Philippe came from nothing. Middle class pencil pushers, he puts it. He rose because of his own drive and intelligence. But he could have gone so much further with the connections that André will make. He wants that for André . And for two weeks, André will be engaged in male-only activities on a safari in Kenya, with Philippe and some of the other fathers along. An outing. It's one of the rituals they engage in."

"And a Mom wouldn't fit in?"

She shook her head.

"Non. It deprives me of my time with him, but I love André as much as Philippe. I will see him in two weeks. I could have stayed on the ship. I should have stayed on the ship. I could have flown back to Paris and waited at our home there. I could have visited family and friends.

"Instead," and she crossed the distance between us to put her hand on my chest, over my heart, "I chose to surprise a man I've only known for a week, a man trying to put his life back together, a man I threw myself at on our first cruise together. A man I was not even sure would welcome me. I must be a fool."

I pulled her to me and held her warmth against me.

"I'm glad you're here, Aline. God, I'm glad you're here. You have two weeks? Do you have any plans?"

"Just one. To spend them with you. If you want me to stay the whole time."

"Of course."

My mind started working again.

"I don't know that I'll be able to get away much. We have a pretty full calendar and..."

I stopped myself and looked at the dark haired vision that stood in front of me, delicious breasts rising and falling, remembering that great ass that was concealed beneath layers of clothing. She had chosen to come to me. And I was going to spend time on fucking depositions and witnesses and recalcitrant defendants?

Fuck it. I had lost one woman I couldn't afford to lose because I'd put this office first. The woman in front of me wasn't mine, never would be, never could be, but she had made me happy. She'd made me wake up with a smile on my face and a hard-on. She deserved more of me than I'd normally be willing to give.

"I have some things that need doing, but I'll make time for us to go places. I'd like to show off Northeast Florida to you. It's my home for most of my life. It's not exactly Paris, but there are a lot of things to like."

"That sounds like fun. Do you want to go out and celebrate tonight?"

I gave her a curious look.

"Everybody in the courthouse is talking about your great triumph and I saw a telecast on one of the televisions in the airport. 'The Angel of Death' takes a bite out of the 'Shark' was one report I saw and 'Killer Granny latest victim of the Angel of Death.' You have become a celebrity."

"I'm a 15 minute sensation, Aline. In a week they'll be asking me for ID when I go to cash a check at the bank."

"I don't think so," she said, slipping her arms around me. "My friend is a famous man and becoming more famous by the day. I think I'm going to become your first 'groupie'. But we should go out tonight."

I thought about it for a moment.

"I know a place we can go for drinks after we grab a bite. But I really don't want to celebrate anyplace we're liable to run into press or anybody I know."

She gave me a hurt look.

"You are ashamed of me, Bill?"

I pulled her to me and kissed her hard and while she fought it at first she gave in and gave herself to it. When I had to breath again I held her out at arms length and said, "Anywhere I go with you, every man in the place is going to be hating me and wishing you were on his arm. You're going to be the most beautiful woman wherever we go. How could I be ashamed of you?"

"Then why?"

"I want you for myself, Aline. I don't want to share you. I don't want to have to answer questions and I don't want Debbie sticking her nose into my business and she will be a pain in the ass if she ever sees you. We're almost able to stay in the same room without my wanting to kill her and I don't want to stir up any more shit than I have to.

"And...." I told her, "the world is a small place. A camera crew catches me celebrating with a beautiful, dark haired mystery woman, and what would you care to bet that it won't somehow wind up on the Internet. And they get the Internet in France. Does Philippe know you're spending your two weeks with his old friend, Bill?"

She shook her head and dropped her gaze.

"Do you want to try explaining to him why I gave you the Fleur de Lis AND you wound up coming to my home town and going out partying with me? I don't think anyone, and especially Philippe, is a big enough idiot not to know what's going on.

"He might be able to turn a blind eye to...us, especially since he's doing the same thing, but if it goes on the Internet your friends will see us together. Is he going to be able to accept that? You'll be hurting his pride, and from what I remember of him, I don't think he's the kind of man who can accept that and live with it. If you made him angry enough, you don't think he'd try to use André against you."

The color drained from her face.

"My God, Bill....I never thought...."

She was about to cry.

I grabbed her shoulders.

"Don't. I'm glad you're here. You're here now. We can spend time together as long as we're careful. You and I both know he sees other women. But you've never been embarrassed by him, have you? He's been discreet."

She nodded.

"We have to be careful, that's all. As long as we don't embarrass him, he won't do anything. He can't. Even in France, a mother has rights in regard to her children. And if he loves you the way you say you love him, he won't throw away your marriage as long as you don't humiliate him publicly. So we just have to make sure we don't go worldwide.

"Fortunately," I said stroking that thick black mane that I could never keep my hands off of, "I'm not that famous yet. If I was Bill Clinton, or Johnny Depp, we wouldn't stand a chance. But get away from the courthouse and I'm just another short, bald guy."

She gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"You will never be just another short, bald guy, Bill Maitland. AND....it's mean and low of me, but I would love to see the expression on your Debbie's face the first time she sees us together."

I couldn't help answering the grin she was flashing.

"You are mean, girl. A real bitch."

"But I'm YOUR bitch, and I'd like to let your old bitch know somebody else is playing with her old toys..."

She reached down and ran her hand over my cock and felt the hard bulge there. I was hard again only hours after cumming in buckets inside Heather. Aline was magic. Better than Viagra.

"Make that...her old toy. Which still works fine, by the way. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," I said, reaching down and moving her hand off me. "But I need to walk out of here in a little bit and if I'm sticking straight out I'm afraid that might launch some rumors about the pretty dark haired woman who came into my office."

She shrugged. Even that motion made my dick twitch.

"Alright, Bill. What kind of cloak and dagger intrigue will we indulge in?"

"No intrigue. Just walk out and go on down to the Starbucks on the first floor. Order a coffee and give me a couple of minutes. When I get down there you'll see me and just follow me out to my car."

She kissed me on the side of my face and said, "This is exciting. I'll be the lady getting all hot and bothered at the Starbucks when you get down there."

I opened the door and walked her out so that Susie could see me shake her hand and hear me say, "I promise you that I'll be available for an in-depth interview with your correspondent before the end of the week. If you'd just send a formal request through Mr. Edwards' office, my secretary will arrange it all. Is that okay?"

She gave me a cool, business-like smile and said, "That is very kind of you, Mr. Maitland. I look forward to working with you, very closely, in the future." And she stuck her tongue out at me at an angle that I'm sure Susie didn't catch. I had an almost irresistible urge to swat her ass, but I am not a disciplined attorney for nothing. I just nodded and walked back into my office.

I had walked back into the office and was trying to wrap up about 20 different loose ends with my head completely not into it when the phone buzzed. I punch the intercom button and Susie said, "Mr. Maitland, I'm sorry, but you have some other people out here that say they need to speak to you."

"Susie, I really am trying to get out of here. Who is it?"

"Uh....one of them is your...Ms. Bascomb from the Public Defender's office. And the other is...Ms. Martinez, from Mr. Edwards' office. Who....who do you want me to send in first?"

I don't know. Maybe I was shell shocked after the day I'd just had. Maybe I just wanted to see if they could both fit through the door at the same time. But I said, "Send them both in, Susie."

A moment later the door came in and sure enough, what the hell, they both came through at the same time. It was one of the few times I'd ever seen them together in the same room. It was, I admit, kind of breathtaking.

Debbie was....Debbie was dressed in a fairly sedate business outfit but she still could have aroused pornographic fantasies in a 90-year-old. She was about four inches taller than Myra and looked bigger, except in a couple of very important places.

Myra, hair blonder and brassier than Debbie, was preceded in by her chest by a few seconds and when she stopped in front of my desk, parts of her kept moving for several seconds. I got ready to duck in case any of the buttons on her stressed blouse started heading my way.

Choosing which one to look at was an impossible dilemma so I focused my gaze at a spot about midway between their heaving bosoms. Debbie shot Myra a sideways glance and Myra glanced back without moving her head. Something was going on in the indecipherable language of females, but damned if I could tell what it was.

"I have had a long day, Debbie, and I need to get out of here. Is it personal or does the Public Defender want to send me congratulations? If it's the latter, tell Mr. August that I appreciate the compliment. If it's the former....you didn't need to come by."