You Can't Do That! Ch. 01

Sniffles.

"You don't have to be sarcastic. I fucked up. I admit it. Happy now? The time I wanted to take to clear my head is now so messed up I don't know what to do."

"Well, Sheila, I'll tell you what to do now. Hang up. I need to sleep, I'm not on vacation."

She slammed the phone, must have been on a land line.

I checked my messages the next day and Norbert wanted me to call back. I went into the office and closed the door.

"Miss Nora, how are you this fine morning?"

She was nothing if not consistent.

"Cut the cornpone, Little Abner. Where's my contract?"

I explained my marital woes.

"Great. Just ducky. Listen, you have a legal separation in place, right? Good. Check with an entertainment lawyer, but in my state any monies that come in after a legal separation are retained by the individuals. And the contract only calls for you to write the books. We won't expect the first one for eight months, you'll be back together or completely apart by then."

I thanked her for the advice and told her to send the contract. She sounded actually human for a minute when she hung up.

"Sorry Roy. I hope things work out for you."

...............................................

Things were getting really bad at wok. The recession was killing us. Orders had dwindled to a standstill. The owner called us into a meeting.

"We're going to take a three week break. We're working on some things, if even one of them bears fruit we'll have a six month backlog. I'm going to keep a skeleton crew, mostly maintenance, to get everything in top shape."

He went on for a little while before winding down. I thought about it that night, and the next day I turned in a vacation request for two weeks following the layoff. The plant manager was surprised but allowed it when I told him I wanted to do a little traveling.

"You and Sheila have a good time."

I grunted something and left.

I had gotten the lawyer Norbert had recommended, but not an agent. I asked, and he said I really didn't need one right now. He did incorporate me, saying it would protect me even more in case I divorced. Not wanting Sheila to know where I was, I had him rent a house for me.

It was on a lake in the mountains, a place I had loved when Sheila and I were younger. We never went there anymore.

Due to the economy and the season, he got me way more house than I needed for a reasonable amount. Two stories, with a basement, on a double lot. It was at the very tip of a small cove. Five bedrooms, a full gym in the basement, gourmet kitchen, it even had a pontoon boat docked at the pier. I loved it.

It was on the market, but no one was buying. They were happy to lease it to me for three months, way more than I needed it for, but at such an attractive price I couldn't refuse. The good part was my name wasn't on the lease anywhere, it was made out to my new corporation.

Sheila called and left a message giving me her new number. I called her back three days later.

"Roy, where are you?"

I wasn't giving her any information I didn't have to.

"I took some time off. I think I'll try to find myself."

She ignored the jab.

"No, I mean where are you physically?"

"Sheila, why does it matter? You planned to leave, leased a condo, moved your stuff and didn't have the decency to tell your husband. When were you going to tell me where you lived? Or were you? Doesn't matter. I'm returning the courtesy. Curiosity compels me to ask, have you found any resolution?"

"I'm working on it, Roy, please, don't try to hurry me."

"I think you should take all the time you need. But just so you know, I've set a limit. If you're still gone when I reach it, the separation papers turn to divorce papers. And before you ask, I'm not telling you when it is."

The shrew came back.

"Damn you Roy, if you think you can buffalo me..."

I hung up, and didn't answer the phone for a week. I settled into the house. One of the perks was a courtesy pass to the local country club, with a very good golf course. I hadn't seriously played in years, but I showed up, met the management, had a couple of drinks at the bar, ate at the restaurant, and enjoyed myself tremendously. The next day I was at the pro shop, picking up a nice set of clubs and shoes. I played twenty seven holes, pleased to see I hadn't lost much of my game, not that I was any good to start with. But I had a good time, playing with a few members for eighteen, doing the back nine by myself. For the time of year the course was in excellent shape.

I was so sore it hurt to move the next morning. I decided to dust off the exercise equipment in the basement that afternoon. I started slowly, but in three weeks I was hitting them for an hour in the morning and an hour in the evening.

I lost fifteen pounds, and my golf game improved.

Tired of my thinning hair, I went to a barber and had it shaved off. I grew a goatee and mustache, because I had always wanted to. I was surprised when it came in, the hair was almost completely white.

Sheila called me twice a week but never said anything of consequence, or offered to meet physically. She still tried to find me, even asked my lawyer. Since she didn't know exactly where I was, she could honestly say so.

I forced the issue on her last call.

"I'm going to be home next week. I expect to see you. It doesn't need to be at the house, pick a neutral spot we can agree on, and I'll be there. Refuse, and I turn my lawyer loose."

She complained, she whined, but ultimately agreed.

She picked the most expensive restaurant in town. I surprised her by agreeing.

I went back to the house. It smelled empty and...old. It didn't smell like a home anymore.

I didn't stock the fridge, I didn't intend to be there that long. In fact, I never intended to live there again. If we got back together, it would be somewhere else, somewhere we could start new memories without the ghosts of the old ones hanging over us.

She was there before I was. I almost didn't recognize her. She had dyed her hair a lighter color and lost weight. She really looked good, but as I got closer I could see hard lines on her face, the habitual frown she carried seemed deeper. It was not the face of a happy person.

It pleased me that she didn't recognize me until I was almost at the table. She didn't offer a hug, didn't get up. She sat there with her mouth hanging open.

"Roy! My goodness, I almost didn't recognize you. When did you shave your head and grow a beard? Not that it doesn't look good on you."

No I miss you, no I love you, just observations about my appearance. I returned the compliment, hitting on her weight loss and hair color. She patted it selfconsciously.

"I wanted something a little different, you know?"

We ordered. I had a good appetite while she just picked at her food. I ordered coffee, and while we had it I asked her if she had found herself yet.

She hung her head.

"Not yet. Please, don't pressure me. I'm working on it.

"How exactly are you working on it? Long hours of selfexamination? Therapy? Counseling? What are you doing to move forward?"

"Well, I've been talking to friends, and they've been giving me advice."

"That's it? Are these people professionals? Any of them qualified in any field that could actually be of use to you? If all they're giving you is opinions, I'm reminded of the old saying.

Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one and they're all full of shit. The clock is ticking, Sheila."

I sat there, watching my love for her start dying as she sniffled. When I couldn't take anymore, I settled the check, wished her a good night, and left.

I thought about it, she hadn't once offered to touch me, and seemed to flinch when I touched her arm.

................................................

I worked a week at the end of my vacation, then was off for two weeks. I immediately went back to the lake house.

Before I left I talked to my lawyer.

"The term for the legal separation is almost up. What do you want me to do?"

"File."

"Are you sure?"

I sighed.

"I'm sure. If something happens to change us, I can always stop it. And, just for the heck of it, get some investigators and watch her for a week or so. I'm curious what her brand new life is like."

We talked some about my writing. My first book topped over a hundred thousand so far, net, the fastest ever for the site. My second came out, and got twenty thousand downloads the first three weeks, at seven ninety five. My writing account was doing very nicely.

My entertainment lawyer was talking to Lifetime, but was getting overtures from film companies. He found himself in a small bidding war, and was pitting them against each other with understated skill. So far, it was up to eight hundred thousand. I was staggered.

I thought about it for a week, quit my job, and made an offer on the lake house. Whatever Sheila and I decided, I was going to live there. Money was now no problem, although we were comfortable before.

My decision was made for me when Becky called.

"I got the investigators' report."

"What does it say?"

I could hear the reluctance in her voice.

"You need to come by the office."

I let the silence linger for a bit.

"That bad?"

Another silence.

"Yes."

I'll be there tomorrow morning, if you have time for me."

"I'll set aside an hour. Ten all right?"

................................................

"His name is Morgan Feldman. He's an E.R. doctor at her hospital. He's sixty one, just a little older than you."

She slid me a picture. An ordinary looking man, with a fringe of hair around an almost completely bald head. I wasn't impressed.

"He's married. Four children and five grandchildren. His son is a doctor at the other hospital here in town. His wife is a top executive at Harmony Enterprises, and travels a good bit. She has the money in the marriage."

She showed me a picture of a very nice looking woman in her middle fifties. Sheila was attractive, especially to me, but she would never be in the same class. Made me wonder.

"He's a serial womanizer, your wife is just the latest. The average length of his dalliances is about six months, so your wife is close to her expiration date."

"He's very good at cheating. We put an operative on the cleaning crew at the hospital, and he snapped a few pictures as they ducked into empty rooms. I don't think they did anything past kissing, there wasn't time, although our man got one photo of them when they thought the curtain in the room was closed."

"Same at the condo. They never enter together. Usually she goes out, and half an hour later he comes in. He rides three floors past, then comes down on another elevator. If there's anyone in the hall he walks by. If he's clear, he let's himself in with his own key. A few minutes later she returns. He usually stays from an hour to half a day. Once overnight. They're never seen together in the hall, but we do have a shot where she opens the door after he leaves to hand him a briefcase. She looks up and down the hall, then opens her robe, giggling, and shuts the door."

"How did you get all this?"

She grinned.

"Money and luck. One of our operatives showed up at the condo complex, identifying himself as a representative of the security service they use, offering to audit their security system and make suggestions for improvement, purely as a courtesy. He had them call the security company, where he was directed to a man who vouched for him."

"He made copies of the last month and a half of security footage, and then his team examined it. The security company actually got some business out of it, making several upgrades."

"You've already filed, what do you want me to do now?"

I thought for a moment.

"Expedite it. Offer her a straight fifty fifty split. She can have the house, I don't want to live there anymore. If she doesn't want it, we'll put it up for sale and split the money. If she fights it, tell her to get a damn good lawyer. I'll drag it out for years if I have to, bleed her dry. And tell her to expect a package from me that will explain things."

She looked me over.

"I have to advise you against doing anything reckless or stupid. You know we can't use the condo footage, legally. I'll keep the operatives digging. Maybe they can get someone to verify the affair."

I actually smiled. I don't think she expected it.

"All I'm going to do is send her a photo and a short message."

It was the photo of her flashing her lover. I had written across it in big red letters.

"TIME EXPIRED."

I sent it to the hospital.

.................................................

The phone calls started three days after she got the photo. It was reported she collapsed with it in her hands and a few people saw it, enough to get the gossip mill going. She was off work on a two week medical leave.

I thought she wouldn't have the nerve, but she started calling three and four times a day, sometimes more, begging me to talk to her.

I snapped when I got the last message. She said it was a one time thing, she did it because she was lonely and missing me. I actually called her back. I was on her before she got hello out of her mouth.

"A one time thing? You mean one time just for that day, right? Was it just a one time thing all the other times? The good doctor losing a step, staying power not what it used to be? Surely he knows there's pills to fix that."

I had memorized the dates he had visited her, especially the night he stayed over. She was gasping and stuttering when I finished.

"Give it up Sheila, you're stone cold busted. Admit it, if you weren't fucking him before you left me, you were planning on it as soon as you got settled in to your love nest."

She was trying to explain when I shut her down again.

"Give it up. I know the hospital knows about your little adventure. The only reason you both still have your jobs is there's no proof anything happened there. What do you think the chances of continued employment would be if I showed up with some photos of you playing kissy face with the good doctor in some of the empty rooms, and hinted strongly about a lawsuit?"

"To quote Bruce Willis, it would be 'Happy trails, motherfucker.'"

"Agree to the terms, Shela, while you still have a chance to walk away with something. Three weeks, Sheila, then I go to the hospital and afterwards have a little show and tell with Mrs. Dr. Feldman. Up to you, and don't call me again. Call my lawyer. Goodbye Sheila, I hope you have a horrible, empty, loveless rest of your life."

Okay, the last was a bit over the top, but I was in a lot of pain. I turned my old cell phone off and put it in a drawer.

My offer was accepted on the lake house. I was now a full time writer with a mortgage. I had finished the first draft of my third novel, and got a call from Miss Nora.

"This one isn't up to the standard the other two set, but it's readable, and we have a few months to polish it. Divorced yet?"

"I'm working on it."

"Well. Sorry, and I do mean that. I've got something I need you to think about. Your books are really good, but kind of tame. Ever heard of erotica? Fifty Shades Of Gray ring any bells?"

"Only in general terms. You'd have to be living under a rock not to hear about that book. Where are you going with this?"

"Erotica is really hot right now. Sex sells baby, remember that saying. It's a fact, and if you can write it well you can make a lot of money."

I was joking when I said "Miss Nora, for the right amount of money, I'll write something so hot it'll melt your panties off right at your desk".

It was the first time I ever heard her truly laugh.

"You do that, Roy, and we'll both make a load of money. I've sent you four sites I want you go to. They're for amateur writers of erotica. Go on them, read a few stories, get a feel for it. Write a few, it'll be good practice."

"Just a word of caution. Many on these sites are decent writers, and a very few are outstanding. But most of the stories are like reading a porn movie, screw and sucks with no character development. If you can't get your readers invested in the characters, they're not going to read your stories, and more importantly, if they do they won't remember them. Most have a rating system of some kind, my advice is to read only the top twenty percent. Email me when you post yours, and I'll read them. Any one could be the nucleus for your next book. I'll be sure to wear my fireproof panties."

I did go on the sites, picking what I thought was the best. I read them for a week before attempting a story. It was only moderately successful, but future postings were better received as I came to grips with the short story format. I often did them when I was stuck on a particular passage in my regular books, they helped clear my head, enabling me to concentrate better.

The three weeks passed and Becky called me.

"She wants a face to face, and she wants you to go to counseling together. If you agree, I'll get the number of sessions set as low as possible. It'll look good if we have to go to court. Speaking of that, I'm going to propose a trade. You talk, go to counseling, and if you still want a divorce, we skip court and go directly to arbitration. I recommend it. It's cheaper, doesn't take as long, and if you agree to it you have to accept the decision of the arbitrator and can't challenge it in court. It's also usually a lot less bloody, they do a really good job not letting things get out of hand."

"Just so you know, nobody wins at arbitration, just like if we were to go to court. Both of you will lose some things, win others, but in the end it'll be a deal you can both live with. Are you game?"

I thought about it for a minute.

"Is this the quickest way?"

"No, Roy, it's not. But it's the best and usually the cheapest. I recommend it."

"Where do you fit in, Becky?"

"Once you agree to arbitration, I'm basically out, unless you want me to advise you on an informal basis."

"All right, do it. But I still consider you my lawyer, and I will seek your opinion."

She laughed and thanked me.

"It really is the best way, Roy. And I'll still be glad to send you a bill from time to time. How's the writing?"

I told her my third was finished, about the negotiations for the movie rights to the first one, and my little adventure in erotica, giving her the site and my pen name.

"I don't know if that sort of thing offends you, but if it doesn't, read a few and tell me what you think. Set the meeting."

.................................................

This is the end of part one. Thanks for reading, I haven't posted in Loving Wives for awhile. I've been off writing my pseudo epic, The Hogue Chronicles, trying to use as many sections of this genre as I can. I've already posted the first four chapters, in Transsexual/Crossdresser, BDSM, Group Sex, and Mature, in that order. Future chapters will be in Non Erotic, Non Consent, Incest Taboo, and the final chapter, of course, will be in Loving Wives.

It's been fun so far, but the thing I've missed is the feedback. The people who read those sites aren't nearly as vocal as you guys.

That being said, feel free to comment or vote, they are appreciated.

QHML1