tagLoving WivesYou're Not Going Anywhere!

You're Not Going Anywhere!

bycarvohi©

Many thanks to Barneyr for editing this story. Without his help and suggestions I'm sure I would have been pilloried for another grammatically mismanaged attempt.

This is my fifth entry into the Loving Wives category. I hope you enjoy it. Don't for get your comments and suggestions are critically important if I'm to improve.

I hope you enjoy it.


*

Ben, that's Benjamin Hawthorne, is a mid-thirties technician for a private company that manufactures precision instruments used by the Federal government for various types of military equipment. He used to be at the center of research and design at the company for which he works and is a partner, but his role had changed over the years; he'd become more a liaison person between his company's management and the government agencies that require their products. To be sure he'd come to realize the technology he was once so much the center of had slowly passed him by; and he'd been increasingly relegated to the periphery of the company he once was so crucial to. He knew it was just a question of time before he'd be moved to some corner office where he'll be handed a stapler and told to just keep out of the way.

He does and doesn't mind the direction he drifted. First, money would never be a problem. He accumulated enough of that to live quite comfortably well into the foreseeable future even though he was strapped with two mortgages, alimony and child support. Second, he could care less about the techno-shit he used to love so much. He'd just lost interest. Third and this was the tough piece, he did view his personal circumstances with increasing anxiety.

It's that third area, his personal life; that had become so murky. He'd thought and drunk long and hard about his life lately. Sitting at the bar tonight, stowing away yet another Jim Beam over ice; he'd come to the realization it was time to make some decisions.

Looking at his friend Oscar, another company dinosaur, Ben had been lamenting the changes he'd seen in his second marriage, "I tell you Oscar, though I know we've only been married a year, I'm convinced she's cheating on me."

Oscar swirled the ice around in his glass of Jack Daniels, "What makes you think that?"

Ben emptied his glass. He motioned to the bartender for another Jim Beam, "You want a list?"

Oscar was himself recently divorced, but for the opposite reason; his loyal and devoted wife had caught him in bed with a big blonde. His wife had responded harshly but he had to admit fairly; she'd hired a lawyer and cleaned him out. Hell, he knew he'd deserved it; he'd been doing it to her for years, she'd been a good wife and wonderful mother, he was just too stupid to appreciate what he'd once had. He smiled at Ben, "You start; I'll tell you when I get bored."

Ben started, "Well first I'll admit I ruined my marriage with Olivia...," she had been his first wife and was the mother of his children.

Oscar interrupted, "That's a good start no matter what else you say next. Everybody in the company agrees you fucked up a wonderful thing. Olivia was a good wife to you."

Ben accepted the drink from the bartender, "Yeah, yeah, but that's gone. Let me tell you about Abby."

Oscar took another sip of his Jack Daniels and sat quietly.

Ben began, "Shit she sells real estate. She's out of the house more than I am; what with sales meetings, showings, open houses, I hardly ever see her. Then she's got her supervisors; two of them are men, big guys, with money, cars, and too much time on their hands."

Oscar interjected, "So you knew all this going in."

Ben spat, "Yes I did, and that's part of what bothers me. That's how the two of us got started. Olivia and I agreed we needed a bigger house so I started browsing the web. I saw some good buys, and Abby was the agent. Next thing I knew she and I were in the sack together. She sold me the house, Olivia's sister, the bitch, sniffed out the affair and the next thing I knew Olivia and the kids were gone and I was married to Abby."

Oscar grinned, "This is not new shit. You knew Abby was promiscuous before you married her. So now you're upset she's doing to you what she'd been good at all along?"

Ben steepled his fingers, "We agreed we'd be exclusive once we got married. Hell Oscar I've been faithful, but now with Abby I don't know."

"What's the reason for your suspicions Ben?"

"It's something she said the other day."

Oscar asked, "What was that?"

"Well I'd had a pretty good day. I'd made some progress with one of those young hot shot Federal quality control assholes. I came home feeling pretty frisky. Abby and I hadn't done anything in a couple weeks, and I was feeling kind of, you know, well, really horny. Well Abby was all dressed like she was going out, and she hadn't told me anything about her plans that night. I got a little pissed so I asked her, I said, 'Hey want to get fucked tonight?' You know what she said?"

Oscar sipped some more Jack, "No what?"

Ben replied, "She looked at me and said, 'Yeah, but not by you.'"

Oscar sat up, "Shit!"

"That's what I thought, shit!"

"You've got to face Ben it, if she's not doling it out already, it's just a matter of time."

Ben slumped, "I know. But what the fuck should I do?"

Oscar chuckled, "What did Olivia do?"

Ben grimaced, "You know what she did. She took some of my money, hired an agency, and had me tracked. Shit she walked right in on me with Abby sitting on my lap with my dick in her ass. She even had a photographer. The guy took some pictures. Olivia was crying but still managed a 'see you in court', and that was that."

Oscar responded, "There's your answer."

"What's that," asked Ben?

"Go see Olivia. Find out who she hired, and use them to get at Abby."

Ben looked at Oscar like he'd just eaten a pound of ground glass, "Why the fuck would I go to Olivia to get the guy she got?"

Oscar laughed out loud, "You are a stupid fuck. Everyone at work knows if you don't, you only married Abby to punish Olivia. Sure Olivia divorced you, but if you had crawled back and begged her for mercy after she finished you off she'd have remarried you."

"You think I still care about my first wife."

Oscar retorted, "Absolutely. You're still not over her. Nowhere near, and you never will be. Everybody at work sees it. Who's Abby? She's a fuck buddy. You were just stupid and married her. Tell me, has Olivia moved on?"

Ben just stared at Oscar for a moment; then replied, "Well she still sees that guy who's her boss. You know old suave and debonair Brandon Weller."

Oscar caught the bartender's eye and indicated another Jack. He turned back to his friend, "Is she seeing anybody else. I mean is she dating?"

Ben stammered, "Well, I...Hey, how would I know?"

Oscar smirked, "Oh bullshit. You've been spying on her ever since she dropped you. Everybody knows you drive by her house two maybe three times a week."

"Well I get to see the kids, and I want to make sure the bitch is keeping up with the yard work and such."

Oscar accepted his drink from the bartender, "I know your visitation schedule. Christ you've bitched about it enough; one night a week and every other weekend, damn it Ben, you're over there three four times a week. Shit Ben you told me! Besides you've told me you've driven by at night after dark just to keep an eye on things. Jesus, it's an hour and a half drive to Olivia's! Don't bullshit me Ben. You're scared she might see someone else."

"So what do you think I should do?"

"Don't be a fuck up all your life," Oscar continued, "Unload Abby as fast as you can, and get your real wife back. God damn it Ben look at me. I'm sitting here with you, listening to you whine and cry. Why am I doing this?"

Ben replied, "I'm your friend."

Oscar vented, "Fuck that! Friend? Yeah, but mainly I'm here because if I wasn't here I'd be home alone in my shitty little apartment drinking Jack Daniels all by myself and crying. Yeah I'd be crying about how I shitted up my life. I'd be crying about how I missed my wife, and my kids, and my home, and my fucking dog, and all the shit I fucking threw away because I thought I was so fucking smart. And you know what else?" He didn't wait for a response from Ben, "When we're finished here I'm still going to go home, I'm getting out my home stash of Jack Daniels and I'm going to drink and cry myself to sleep again for the four hundred and seventy-fifth time. That's how many nights it's been since my divorce was fucking final."

Oscar got up and threw a Benjamin on the bar, "Dump Abby Ben. Dump her, and then find a way to go back home." He pulled his sport jacket on and walked away without looking back.

Ben sat there and nursed his drink for another ten minutes or so. I know I don't love Abby, never did. Shit she's too much for me anyway, long blond hair, tall, perfect figure, long legs, perfect breasts, always well dressed, clever with words. I was never in her league. She married me on a whim. So now I guess she's fed up, wants something better. Hell I can't blame her. He dropped a Jackson on the bar to join Oscar's Benjamin and left.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When Ben finally got home he saw Abby was still out; shit it was after 1:00 a.m. He made a cursory tour of the house they'd bought. What, her being a realtor and all, it was easy to get a good buy. The house they'd picked was in an older established neighborhood; actually now more a transitional community. The houses had all been built in the late 1950's in what was then the outermost suburban ring. Since then the suburbs had sprawled well beyond the original Interstate that encircled the old city.

The neighborhood was transitional in that the original buyers were largely all gone, and the second generation of owners were themselves moving away. He and Abby were the third owners of their well-built tri-level. The lots were all too small for a garage, but the cull- de- sac was spacious, having originally been designed for much larger cars.

He wandered through the house. Though they'd been married about a year there was still no real trace of who they were in the house. There were no portraits or family pictures, no personalized objects, nothing really to indicate who actually lived there.

The house was well furnished; Abby had excellent taste, better than his and to be honest, better than Olivia's. But the place was empty, stale, and utterly lifeless; it had a clinical look. He imagined if he were a real estate agent back in the 1950's; the way their house was furnished would have made it a good model for inspection by prospective buyers of other houses in the development.

He reflected on the clutter in his other house; no he meant Olivia's house. The first thing that caught you when you went inside was the big family portrait atop the mantle in the living room. There he sat with Olivia beside him and their two kids, Ben Jr. and his beautiful little girl, Angelica on his knee. He was still slightly amazed that Olivia hadn't taken that picture down, but then he figured it wouldn't sit well with the children.

Yeah Olivia's house was loaded with fluff and clutter. Every table top, every bureau was covered with pictures of this and that; there was Ben Jr. in front of his first bicycle at Christmas, Angelica in her tutu, Jr. peering out from beneath a too large baseball cap they bought him at the Orioles game, he and Olivia's wedding pictures, Angelica sitting on her pony. Damn the bitch! Seeing all that shit really rubbed it in.

Ben pulled his Tee shirt and boxers off. He ought to take tomorrow off and go see Olivia anyway. She'd left a message; something about the children and school. Tomorrow would be a good day for it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ben got up earlier than usual and called his first wife, "Olivia?"

Olivia replied, "Ben?"

"Yes, I'm off today. You said something about the children and school. Would today be good for you?"

Olivia yawned into the phone, "I'll call and take the day off. When can you get over?"

"An hour?"

"Make it three."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Ben pulled in front of the monster they'd bought, a real, what did Abby call it, a real McMansion, one of the monstrosities they'd been building for the last twenty years or so. It had five bedrooms, three bathrooms, and more ancillary rooms he than could remember. At the time it was the exact thing they'd wanted; something big, expensive looking, and something that told everyone that counted that they'd arrived.

It had taken him almost an hour and a half to get from the house where he lived with Abby to Olivia's. He had to take two Interstates and then travel up another two lane high speed highway to get here. This was what the planners called exurbia, the outermost ring of the suburbs. He hated it. They'd only lived here a few months when Olivia had caught him in bed with Abby. Their old home had been in the city; in one of those really great old neighborhoods with brick homes, big azalea bushes, and small manageable lawns. Brother he knew how to fuck things up.

He stood on the front porch and rang the bell. He had to ring the bell to get his ex-wife to come and let him inside the house he was paying for. Sometimes he wished he were dead; this was close to one of those times.

Olivia came and opened the door. She stepped back to let him in.

Ben looked at her; the bitch! There she stood. It was obvious she'd just had a shower; her short dark brown hair was still damp. She didn't have any makeup on, but she didn't need any. Those big brown come hither eyes, with those long, come get me, lashes slashed out at him reminding him of everything, or nearly everything, he'd thrown away.

He stepped inside and got a better look. She was barefoot, no slippers, no shoes, just bare feet. Her toenails looked freshly polished, clear polish of course. She had such tiny feet. He used to like to massage those babies. When they were first married she used to let him paint her finger and toenails; talk about erotic.

She had on a dark blue silken robe that just barely covered a short form fitting nightie. He didn't know what to call it; was it a teddie or was it was one of those silky soft camisoles the models wore in those Victoria's Secret catalogues. There was a time he used to hunger for those catalogues; he'd scour them to find things for Olivia. Not anymore. Hell he couldn't remember what Abby liked to wear. The damn thing Olivia had on was held up with those thin spaghetti straps. And they looked loose!

Ben tried to smile, "Hi, I'm here about the kids," he looked around, "I don't see them. Where are they?"

Olivia neither smiled nor offered a welcome, "There's no school today. They're at my moms."

"What you had a big date last night?" Ben asked that because he had suddenly gotten scared that she might have actually got out with someone.

Olivia answered, "That's my business." She'd said it to be mean, but regretted it right away when she saw the look on Ben's face. To tell the truth she hadn't been anywhere, and she hadn't been with anyone, not the way Ben meant except for Mr. Weller, her boss, the one person other than her sister who understood what the son-of-a-bitch in front of her right now had put her through.

Olivia stepped back a little further, "Want to go into the kitchen or the living room."

He got another look at her. Jesus Christ! He stammered out, "I think the living room."

Olivia asked, "Cup of coffee?"

Ben would have liked a cup of coffee, but for some reason he thought about his breath. Coffee made his breath bad. He couldn't remember how many times Olivia had complained about his 'coffee breath'. He looked at her tiny heart shaped mouth; that was one thing Olivia was really good at, she knew how to kiss. He'd pay another month's child support for just one more good kiss from those succulent little rosebuds.

He replied, "No I'm trying to cut back on the coffee. It makes me too nervous."

Olivia eyed him suspiciously. Ben had been an obsessive coffee drinker. She gave him an even look, a look that evinced nothing, "I think I'll have an OJ. You take the living room while I go to the kitchen."

Ben gave her another awkward smile, "You have any lime juice?" Lime juice was something only he drank. God he wondered if, after a year, she still had any around.

She answered, "I think so." She started back to the kitchen.

Ben watched her shapely little ass as she sauntered to the kitchen. She'd gained a little weight since the divorce, and it looked good on her. She always had what he called a soft body, not fat, but soft and comfortable, smooth skin. He watched her ass and thighs as they rippled when she walked away. The silky nightie was a little tight in the back and it gave her a little wedgie.

He considered Abby. She had a better body. Damn she spent hours every week in the gym to guarantee it. Abby had a muscular hard body. He had to admit he liked it, but he really missed Olivia.

Olivia came back in. She had her OJ in one hand and his lime drink in the other. She held each glass out to the side a little, careful not spill any on her nightie. She'd slipped out of the robe. All she had on was the nightie. It sort of shimmered and glistened as she walked. Ben watched; the way she held the drinks made her pert little 34Bs stand up and out like two little soldiers. It was still a little cool and her nipples pressed against the soft material.

She came over and sat on the sofa. When she sat she let her right leg cross slightly over her left. The nightie just barely covered the soft crease that rested at the top of her legs, but from memory Ben could still fashion the size and shape of what it looked like. She handed him his lime drink.

Ben tried to make another smile, "I'm surprised. I thought I was the only person who liked this stuff. I guess you still buy it. Out of habit I guess."

Olivia crushed him, "My dad likes it."

Ben looked at his glass unhappily, "Oh." Somehow he didn't feel that thirsty. He put it down on the coffee table without tasting it.

Olivia felt ambivalent about what she'd said, Of course, the only person who drank that stuff was Ben. She'd been buying it and throwing it out unopened for months. She kept it on hand just in case. She could have made him feel good and told him the truth. She just wasn't into making him feel good.

She shifted her weight. She felt a slight cramp in her leg, "So you're here about the kids."

He noticed her slight grimace, "You all right?"

She moved a little more, "A cramp in my foot I think."

He sat back, "Here put your feet up. I'll give you a massage."

She looked at his hands. He had well shaped hands. They weren't too big or too small. Some men had soft wimpy hands. Others had hard calloused hands. Ben's were neither; they were firm but not hard. She used to love the way he'd smooth his hands over her body. Even now the thought of his hands on her sent a shiver up her spine.

Olivia raised her legs and placed her feet on his lap, "Be careful."

One of her heels touched his crotch. It was the first time she'd touched him anywhere in a year! He picked her feet up slightly by the ankles and moved them to the top of his thighs. She had perfect ankles. He loved them. He started to gently rub her ankles. He'd rub her ankles first, and slowly work his way all the way down to her toes. He used to do this when they were married. He'd liked it then. He loved it now.

Olivia rested her right arm against a large pillow while Ben started to massage her feet, "So you want to hear about our children." She phrased the word our sarcastically; a not so subtle reminder that he was an absentee parent.

Ben kept ministering to her feet, "Yes."

Olivia kept her eyes on him like lasers, "Our children are having problems."

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