Bean Counter Ch. 02byCreamer©
I whistled all the way to work the next day, which was a welcome change to the abject depression I had been suffering for the last month. Divorces are ugly. But getting a regular BJ from your soon-to-be ex took some of the sting out of it. I had another one scheduled for noon, today, and I was eager.
There had been some other changes, too. With Mary no longer under my roof, I suddenly had more cash. Her "day job" at the bookstore had given her her "own" money, but she had still spent about three times what she made there every month. With those expenses gone, I was feeling pretty comfortable. And I was up for a promotion soon, too. Reason enough to whistle.
My secretary, Donna, a sympathetic divorcee twelve years my senior, was pleased to see the change in attitude. She had been worried about me since all of this broke, and she gave me a wholesome smile when we sat down for our morning meeting in my office.
"You're in a chipper mood," she said.
"Yep. Got me a little last night."
"Who's the lucky lady?" she asked, intrigued. While we were always the paragons of professionalism, we had a close enough working relationship to discuss sexual matters without it becoming a problem – or a lawsuit.
I grinned. "I wouldn't quite say she's lucky . . . or even much of a lady. Mary came over last night and blew me."
Her eyes opened wide. She knew our history. "Are you two reconciling?"
"Nope," I said, and then told her about our agreement. She was stunned.
"Wow," she said, exhaling sharply. "That's . . . that's mean!"
"So's cheating on me. Hey, what's the harm? We're still married, aren't we?"
"Yes," she admitted. "But it just seems . . . coercive."
"Oh, it is. But did I mention that she's pregnant by her lover? Kinda makes a man crazy. You can chalk this up to jealous insanity if you wish. Or just call me a pig."
"You are a pig," she agreed. Then she paused. "Not that I'm judging," she added.
"I don't mind. It is a bit piggish, I guess. But I'm good with that. I'm finally getting what she promised for all of those years. And the psychological torture is just icing on the cake. By the way, she's coming by for . . . 'lunch' today, in my office. I'd appreciate it if you didn't let on you knew. For propriety's sake."
"You're the boss," she agreed. "And, honestly, I don't think it's that far in left field. Hell, my ex deserved castration for his philandering. Underage neighbor girl. What you're doing is pretty tame, in comparison."
"Thanks, Donna. I appreciate it."
"You're still a pig."
"We all have our crosses to bear," I agreed.
The morning flew by as I buried myself in work – the "bean counting" Mary had found so boring. Before I knew it Donna buzzed me and let me know she was there – ten minutes late. I told her to send her in and grinned to myself. I didn't even have to leave my office.
Mary entered wearing casual clothes, jeans and a t-shirt under a cloth coat that I recall seeing her mother in years before. Her eyes were puffy and her mascara had smeared slightly, then been re-applied. She had been crying.
"Hello, Mary," I said, cheerfully. "Having a good day?"
"Not at all!" she spat. "That fucking Gremlin wouldn't start! I had to get a neighbor to jump it. Tim was— hey, no chit-chat, remember? I'm here to suck your dick. Whip it out and let's get it done."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. She had rarely been so direct in our relationship. I had to admit, she was pretty cute when she was stressed out. I could tell she was trying to bury her feelings under a mask of businesslike attitude.
"Suits," I shrugged, unzipping my fly and letting the boy loose. Then I stood.
"What?" she asked, in frustration.
"I want to stand up for it," I replied. She looked irritated at the request, and then decided it wasn't that unreasonable.
"Whatever," she said, and dropped to her knees. Her hands found my hardening cock, and I noted with a shiver that they were still cold from outside. I didn't mind – I've always loved cold hands on my dick. It grew quickly. When she took it between her warm lips, it was like plunging into a soft stick of butter. I groaned with pleasure, which earned me a quick look.
I focused my attention on the matter at hand. Mary wasn't acting reluctant, this morning, she was acting like she wanted to be done as quickly as possible. Fine by me – I had a 1:00. But I had watched her performance from last night this morning and tore off a quick one before I got to work. It wasn't going to be easy for her.
Those soft but firm lips, though, they were enchanting. She moved to a steady, somewhat fast pace pretty quickly, and twice she stopped to stroke me with her fingers while she caught her breath. I watched her head bob back and forth, her long hair flowing rhythmically with her strokes. When she started making little desperate moans in the back of her throat I lost it, and a torrent of jizz exploded in her mouth. She struggled to swallow it, a quick look of panic on her face, then straightened.
"You could have warned me!" she accused. "Sorry," I said, breathlessly. "Thought you knew."
"You know I don't like to swallow," she said, getting up from her knees.
"But you do it so well. When's the next time?"
Mary rubbed her jaw. "Not tonight. My mouth needs time to heal. Tomorrow?"
"Sure," I agreed. "Where?"
"I work in the afternoon. I'll be off at five thirty. Any chance you can pick me up? You can drop me back at the car when we're done."
"Works," I agreed. "See you then."
"That's two," she reminded me, her eyes staring daggers at me.
"Yep," I agreed. "Only a hundred and forty five to go."
"You still won't change your mind?" she asked, after hesitation.
"See you tomorrow!" I said with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"Pig," she whispered as she left.
I returned to my chair, zipped my fly, and sighed contentedly. A few minutes later Donna came in, a strange expression on her face. "You . . . more whistling?"
"Sorry, didn't realize it," I confessed. "If I had known that fellatio would put you into this kind of mood before . . ."
"Heh. I'm a married man," I reminded her. "How did she look as she left?"
"Like a whore in church," Donna said, a slight smile appearing. "Cheeks were all red. She didn't say a word."
"Good," I said, nodding. "Her mouth was probably sore."
"Pig," Donna said, playfully. "What does her new boyfriend think about this . . . arrangement?"
"I don't know," I said. "But y'know? That's a damn good question. A damn good question. Could you order me a sandwich from downstairs? I need to make a few calls . . ."
"Yessir, Mr. Stater, I can do it," Andy, my PI said. "It'll cost some money, though."
"Money, I got. I just want a few audio bugs in their house. That asshole has a wi-fi system, right?"
"Yep, pretty standard. Virtually no security. I can put in some bugs and have them beam it back to you through their own link. You can listen at your leisure. But you know this isn't admissible in court, don't you? And it's technically illegal?"
"I don't want evidence," I explained. "I want intelligence. See how the slut and the stud are doing on the domestic front."
"It's your cash," he said. "I can have it up and running by . . . say, tomorrow?"
"That would be great. Say, how much to put in a hidden camera? Just over their bed?"
Andy laughed. "Hell, I keep those in stock. You know, you're paying for my vacation home with this case."
"Enjoy," I said, smiling into the phone. "I certainly am."
The next evening I pulled my new Jag into the parking lot and waited a good twenty minutes for Mary to come out. Not that I mind waiting. A Jaguar is a lot like a luxury hotel room on wheels.
When Mary finally did leave, she came to the parking lot next to her orange Gremlin and looked around nervously. When she didn't see me at first I could see her utter an expletive. Then I honked the horn and caught her attention.
She raised her eyebrows when she got in.
"Fancy. You win the lottery?"
I shrugged. "Bean counting been very good to me," I said. "Besides, my monthly expenses went down enough to afford the payments."
She gave me an evil glare. She knew why my expenses went down.
"Speaking of going down," she said after a moment, "um, is there anywhere close by we could go? I mean, I called Tim and let him know I'd be running a little late, but . . ."
"He still doesn't know?"
"No, he— that's really none of your business. I just know that if we go back to the house, then it will add another, like, forty minutes. I'd like to get back at a decent hour."
"Not a problem. I know a spot," I said. I put the car into gear and took off, the engine barely audible. You gotta love a Jag.
I found an empty parking lot near by that was closed off for construction and picked a part that was concealed from the road by construction equipment.
"It's private. And close. We won't be interrupted," I assured her.
"You know how much I hate this?"
"About as much as I hate the fact you cheated on me?"
"Get it out," she said, an evil tone in her voice.
I chuckled and unzipped and slid the seat all the way back to give her room to bob her head without hitting the steering wheel. "Comfy?" I asked, politely, earning another evil look. She glared at me, then bent her head to engulf my dick once again – three times in two days. That hadn't happened since we dated. Hell, she only sucked me off in the car once, and that was on our honeymoon. I sat back and luxuriated in the new-Jaguar smell mixed with her – cheap – shampoo, and felt the wonderful sensations she was giving the boy. I could tell she was a little riled up today, too, by the vicious way her tongue attacked my cockhead. Not that I minded. Mary had several moods she employed when she gave head, and 'feisty' was one of my faves.
I had decided to take it easy on her today and not jerk off before our meeting. But the frequent stimulation my cock had been receiving had made it a little less sensitive, and that took its toll. She labored a full twenty-five minutes before I grabbed her bobbing head and shot my load into her mouth.
Choking and sputtering she sat up a moment later, tears in the corners of her eye.
"That was mean!"
"I thought the hand on your neck would be sufficient warning," I said.
"Well . . . it was, but I like to drive." "A minor point," I conceded. "Note I didn't force your head to do anything."
"I know, but still . . . Well, that's three, you pig. Take me back to my car, now, please."
"Surely," I agreed, and headed back. I dropped her off without saying anything, and drove off. I wanted to get home in time to hear the show.
I shouldn't have worried. I was home a good fifteen minutes before Mary made her appearance. I sat down in front of my computer, a nuke-it meal and a glass of scotch in hand, and watched and listened like Andy showed me.
"Hey, honey," I heard, finally. A surge of pure hate raced up my spine. That's how she had always greeted me. There was a kiss – the quality of the audio was excellent. Andy had managed to put three mikes and a camera in the decrepit farmhouse while they were away. It had cost me over a grand, but I didn't mind. This was better than cable.
"How was work?" Tim asked absently.
"Pretty rough. We got shipment in today, and Marge had us stocking all day long for the holiday rush. Then we got hit about three – don't ask me where they came from, but they all came in at once and messed up our set-up. It was brutal." Pause.
"I called at five thirty, and Marge said you had gone home." Pause.
"I had a hard time starting the Gremlin again." She sounded guilty. I could tell immediately, the consequence of five years of marriage. I wondered if he could?
"That's bullshit. You were with him, weren't you?" Pause.
"Look, we discussed this. He's being an unreasonable bastard, I know. But if I don't do this . . . we'll lose the farm. And I don't want my child born out of wedlock."
"Where?" he demanded. I could hear the rage in his voice. Heh. He thought he knew rage? That was my wife.
"In his car, after work."
"Did you suck him off?"
"I really don't want to—"
"I asked you a question!" So this was Mr. Adventure. Mr. Sensitive Artist.
"Yes, I sucked his dick. He came in my mouth. I swallowed. Happy?"
"Do I look happy?"
"You look drunk."
"I had two drinks. That's all," he said, defensively.
"Let's just eat and go to bed. I'm tired. What's for dinner?"
"I'll tell you after you make it," he said. Asshole.
"Fine. I'll just make a sandwich or something."
The rest of their evening was domestic normalcy that would have been boring had I not been enraged at every clip. But it was undercut with a kind of tension. About nine o'clock, I came up again.
"So," Tim asked, an expectant tone in his voice. They had retired to their tiny bedroom, which was showing up in the webcam window just fine. In color, even. The place was kind of cluttered, lots of dirty clothes on the floor, something that Mary would never have put up with for me. "You gonna give me some of what Dollar Bill got?" Pause. "Dollar Bill"?
"Look, I'm real tired," Mary said as she got out of her clothes. I felt a stab of longing, seeing her naked. She shrugged into a big, terribly un-sexy flannel nightgown. "This being pregnant thing is really taking a lot out of me."
Timmy was down to his bikini skivvies on the other side of the bed. "I don't think it's unreasonable. You sucked him, you should suck me."
"I said I'm tired," she said, pleadingly, getting into bed.
"Great," he said with exasperation. "That's just fucking great. My own fucking girlfriend will blow her ex, but not me."
"Oh, don't be that way," she pleaded. "Fine. Can you stand next to the bed?"
"Well . . . yeah, I can," he agreed, grudgingly. He went around to her side – the camera caught it perfectly. Andy told me he had placed it just over the window, back in a knot-hole. The angle was slightly from above and diagonal across the bed. Whatever they did there, I'd get an eyeful.
He peeled off his man-panties and released – a cock smaller than mine.
She left me for that? I'm no giant – a perfectly respectable 7" – but he was no more than five, max. She sighed and tossed her hair and took him into her mouth. In less than five minutes it was over, and she had a face full of sperm.
"Why didn't you swallow?" he demanded. "What? You know I hate that!" she said as she wiped her chin dry with a tissue.
"You did it for him," he grumbled as he put his dick away and crawled into bed.
"I'm contractually obligated to," she reminded him. "Look, I'm sure he'll get bored of this in a few weeks. Then he'll cut me loose and we can start fresh."
"The guy's getting free head. He'll never let that go!"
"He's the boring type, remember? He'll move on."
"He'd better. I don't like the thought of kissing you with another man's junk in your mouth."
"Just go to sleep."
I had captured their intimate moment, and with the help of a little video-editing software I had the juicy bits saved as a file. You could clearly see his face and her face and the "action" – what there was of it.
Why? All part of my master plan. I pulled up the vid I took of our first BJ session and whacked off. Boring type? Dollar Bill? I let the seething need for vengeance wrap around me like a blanket. Then I went to sleep.
Mary didn't call me the next day until close to five.
"Bill? Can we skip tonight?"
"Hey, it's your schedule. Take all the time you want."
"I know, I know, I just . . . well, I have plans." She was clearly baiting me. I didn't bite.
"Not a problem. Just give me a call when you're ready to resume."
"Thanks. I lo— Bye."
She had almost said "I love you" out of habit. That made me mad, for no good reason. Still, I was a nearly single man who had just gotten three good blowjobs in a row. I was sure I could find something to do with myself. My fingers hit the buttons of their own accord.
"Susan?" I asked. A young and pretty voice came back to me.
"Uh . . . Bill?"
"Yeah, it's me. How you been?"
"Fine, fine. Look, I heard about you and Mary. I'm terribly sorry. Mom and Dad are just devastated. The shame and all. Mom hasn't been to church in three weeks, now. Dad barely speaks to her."
"Yeah, I guess she did this to more than just me," I agreed. "Please express my sympathies to your folks. Under the circumstances, I don't think it would be a good idea right now for me to call them."
"Oh, don't be silly! They love you to death!"
"I know, and I love them. As much as my own parents. But that's not why I called. What are you doing tonight?"
"Me?" she asked, surprised. "Grading papers, drinking half a bottle of wine, and passing out. It's Friday."
"Care to skip the papers, have that wine at a four star restaurant, and give me a shoulder to cry on? I'm buying."
"What? Sure! Hell yes! It'll almost be like a real date! I haven't been out in . . . four stars, you said? I think I can find something to wear."
"Great, pick you up about sevenish. I'll make the reservations. Sushi OK?"
"God, I love you. Yes. YES!"
Susan was my sister-in-law, Mary's younger sibling by three years. She was pretty, in a bookworm sort of way – she had been stunning at our wedding. Slender figure, compared to Mary's rounded curves, straight black hair to Mary's chestnut locks, and smaller boobs – she had played Martha to Mary since adolescence. Susan worked as an English teacher at a local high school and was perpetually complaining of never going out. We had flirted good-naturedly for years. We got along splendidly. Mary and Susan, however, did not.
If I wanted to piss off Mary, the easiest way to do that was by taking her sister out. I whistled as I made the reservation.
"Sushi! God, do you know how long it's been since I've had it? You just can't afford it on a teacher's salary. Not more than once a year. Not this good."
"How's the wine?" I inquired, grabbing another unagi.
"Exquisite, of course."
"Just how you look," I said with a smile. She blushed.
Susan hadn't wasted the opportunity. She had brushed her hair out and put it up, slipped on a little black dress and fuck-me pumps, and skillfully made up her face. She was a knock-out, and I didn't mind telling her so.
"Thanks, bunches. Bill, I'm so sorry the bitch screwed you over like that. I never thought she had it in her. I always thought she was going to be the 'good girl', and let me be the wild one." She laughed at herself. "Yeah, that's me, the English teacher from hell!"
"Yeah, I never saw it coming, either. And Mary told me you got a tattoo in college. What is it?"
"Oh, she told you that? It's a fairy. A Victorian fairy, purple and pink."
"Well, let's see it!"
She blushed again. "It's not someplace I can show in public."
"You wildcat," I teased. "Maybe later." "Another bottle of this wine, you might have a chance, buster!"
"Waiter! Another?" I called instantly. That sent her into peals of laughter. The rest of the meal was balanced between talking shit about Mary and talking about other aspects of the family, notably their mom and dad. When she had polished off a huge desert, she piled herself into the Jag and I started to take her home. She was more than a little tipsy.
"God, this is nice!" she said, caressing the fine leather interior. "Car like this makes me wet—God, did I say that out loud?" "Sorry, say what?"
"I've always envied Mary. And you. I thought you had the perfect life."
"Every time she came over and flaunted the clothes, or the jewelry, or . . . well, that's a pretty nice house. And the make up, and her car—"
"Say, you mentioned her make-up. I pretty much threw her out of the house with the clothes on her back. I was just going to throw it all out, but you're welcome to pick through it, if you want."