Cinderella

But truthfully, I could have cared less about the woman. I knew I'd never loved her. In fact, I wasn't even sure I liked her. That's a heck of a thing to discover when you've wasted ten years on somebody.

Did the cratering of my marriage cause me to doubt myself? Fuck no!! I felt absolutely nothing, which might be the most telling reaction of all.

I was probably subconsciously aware that marrying Lucy was a mistake and so, any sensible person would just move on. The problem was that I didn't have either the imagination or guts to do what needed to be done... at least until she forced my hand.

Books, movies, and TV all push the hopelessly romantic notion that we deserve happiness. But the truth is life's random. We ricochet off each other like so many cosmic billiard balls and satisfaction is just a scratch-off ticket in a karmic lottery. In Lucy's case, I was neither lucky nor wise. But I DID have a fresh start and I was only forty. That was what led me to a honkytonk in the wilds of Wisconsin.

*****

Skipper had stumbled on her husband porking his secretary. As a result, her marriage ended with a bang, not a whimper. And predictably, financial Armageddon followed. So, the best Skipper could do was a trailer park in Paul Bunyan country. She fit in better out there anyhow.

We'd gotten together when I stopped by to express my condolences, while she was moving out of her recently repossessed house. That led to the discovery -- right there on the floor of her empty living room - that Skipper had hidden talents. She was an absolute beast and by the fifth year post-divorce, I was living proof that practice makes perfect. We both enjoyed the experience immensely.

I was astounded by Skipper's body. I'd always thought of her as the skinny lady next door. But a naked Skipper was long-limbed and lithe. I knew that she had a fine little ass in the tight jeans she lived in. But I had no idea that she was keeping a huge pair of wonderfully shaped titties under the cheap blouses that are de rigueur for lower-middle-class women.

More importantly, absolutely nothing was off the table with Skipper. So, we spent an exhausting but highly productive Saturday afternoon getting to know each other - notwithstanding the serious rug burns. Afterward, we both lay on our backs panting. Then she flopped over, mashed one of her pillow tits on my chest, kissed me hard, and said, "Let's go get some dinner and we can do it again."

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I had known a lot of women by that point. But I never knew one with a finer body or a more fervent approach to sex. There were no kinks or tricks with Skipper, just power-fucking in any odd place - cars, restaurants, even a golf course there was nowhere that was off-limits. All I had to do was ask.

I was pretty sure Skipper thought she was lining me up as husband number two and she might have had a shot, her body and sexual skills were superb. But like I said, she wasn't that bright, and she told me far too many stories.

I mean, what would you think when a woman you're going out with tells you that she met some guy at a party, and he wanted to take her to Miami for the weekend? STDs weren't such an issue back then and Skipper had her advantages. But the thought never crossed my mind that she was anything but fun.

Most nights she would drive into my place. But she was in retail sales, and she had been on her feet all day. I was feeling the need. So, I drove out to her trailer park and took her to the joint across the road. I mean, I'm a classy gent. I didn't want to make it look like too blatant a booty call.

I had to admit that the place had decent bar burgers and the beer was cheap. Still, while I was sitting there admiring the sheer tackiness of mounted deer haunches, I was waiting for one of the locals to mosey over and ask me, "You ain't from around these parts, are you stranger?"

Skipper was full of herself. She said, "My friend from the Truck Stop," that was a novel name for a cheap diner, "Just got a divorce and I want you to fix her up with one of your friends."

I thought, "Great, another slut's on the market." But I knew better than to say that out loud. So instead, I said, "I can probably find somebody. What's she like?"

Skipper said, "She's a little younger than we are but she's really nice and very artistic."

I don't know how women think. So, I wasn't sure whether Skipper was INTENTIONALLY using guy code to tell me that her friend was an ogre. But I DID know that I had just the right person for her.

I worked with a fellow who must have spent his entire childhood stuffed in a locker. His name was Marvin Finkbine, and he was a nebbish. Professionally, he was so far into the theoretical that he rarely made appearances in the real world. Socially, his only aim was to be as incomprehensible as possible. But he was from a rich Jewish family, and I thought he'd be a perfect match.

Hence, we arranged to double-date to a Beach Boys concert. Of course, by that stage in their career, they should have been styling themselves as the Beach Geezers - but I digress. Anyhow, Marvin was the guy with the money, so I let him buy the tickets.

Marvin and I lived in the city, and the girls lived in the sticks. So, we arranged to meet them at a park-and-ride outside town and then drive them to the venue. Marvin and I drove separately, and the two girls came in Skipper's friend's car. Skipper planned to spend the night with me. Her ugly friend was going to drive her skanky ass back home by herself.

Marvin and I arrived at the appointed hour and of course, the girls were late. So, we whiled away the time standing outside our cars. We didn't talk. Marvin just stood there with his hands in his pockets, staring up at the darkening sky - probably searching for his home planet.

Then, I saw a battered F-150 swing onto the rest stop apron. That had to be them. I was dying to meet the poor little troll. Marvin was going to be her first post-divorce date. I almost felt sorry for her.

Maybe I'm totally self-centered. Or maybe I'm just an immature nerd. Whatever the reason, I'd laughed at the fools who are held hostage by women. Women make you vulnerable and I was too smart for that. Hell, I'd even skated on a first marriage. Which was probably the reason why the fates chose that particular moment to teach me a brutal lesson about hubris.

The F-150 pulled to a stop, a woman got out, and all of my adolescent prattling about life and love blew up in my face. Like every other cynic, I'd scorned the notion of love at first sight. I mean -- it's absurd, right? Nobody just sees another person and forms an instant deep-seated attraction. But there, was no denying what my heart already knew. This was the woman for me!!

Her thick auburn hair framed a face of lush beauty. She had high cheekbones, huge hazel eyes, and a wide full mouth. She was dressed in nothing revealing, a cheap woman's coat with an oxford shirt and jeans. But I could see that she had a body to die for -- round hips, tiny waist and did I mention her tits?!! I like big boobs and this woman was in an elite class rarely seen outside the pages of Playboy.

My first reaction was a feeling of intense longing, followed shortly thereafter by a thunderbolt of agony as I realized that I had just fixed up the love of my life with Marvin fucking Finkbine!! The pang of jealousy was so intense that it almost buckled my knees.

Skipper, of course, was totally oblivious to the firestorm raging in my heart. So, she sashayed up and gave me a possessive hug and kiss, which almost got her shoved. She said, "I want to introduce Billie Starnes. Billie, this is my soon-to-be fiancé."

Fiancé ... Where did THAT come from??!! I glanced at Billie, who was looking nervous as hell, eyes darting back and forth between me and Marvin. For his part, Marvin looked like a hunting dog, practically standing on point.

I wanted to drop to one knee and propose marriage. But I wasn't QUITE that nuts. So, I summoned every ounce of strength and said in an astonishingly calm voice, "Happy to meet you, Billie. Skipper has told me a lot about you." I didn't add that most of it was misrepresentation.

Billie said, in a very sensual contra-alto voice, "Skipper has been bragging about her new man for weeks and I was looking forward to meeting you too."

Really??!! Seriously??! Bragging about her new man!!?? Isn't THAT interesting??!! I felt like somebody'd dropped one of those cartoon safes on my head. Even the woman's voice gave me a stiffy.

At that point, Marvin pushed himself forward. I didn't blame him. I regrouped enough to say in a slightly choked voice, "This is Marvin. He's your date for tonight."

The way I said it might have implied, "For tonight and tonight only," because all three of them looked at me funny. This was definitely not my finest hour.

I was still trying to get my balance back. So, I said maybe a bit too brightly, "Well... don't want to miss the show so we'd better get going." They all looked at me again. Was I being that transparent?!!

I drove a Mustang. Of COURSE, I drove a Mustang, and Marvin drove a Corolla, which was actually a little sporty for his image. I knew the best way to the venue, so they followed me.

I could see them sitting together in the front seat chatting amiably. In fact, I spent so much time watching them in the rearview mirror that I nearly got us killed. Skipper was filling the car with her usual inane chatter, which normally never bothered me. But tonight, was like fingernails on a blackboard.

We got to the venue and parked and the two of them walked over looking like a couple. My jealousy meter spiked, and I actually got a metallic taste in my mouth. It was an outdoor venue, so I gulped and said, "Find us a seat and I'll get us something to drink."

They were sitting together chatting in a far too friendly fashion when I reappeared juggling four Solo cups full of beer. This was Milwaukee after all.

I was coming up the empty row in front of them when Billie laughed delightedly at something Marvin had said and TOUCHED HIM ON THE ARM!! It was the universal gesture that women use to establish intimacy. Oh Lord have mercy!! I nearly dropped the beers.

I was fumbling with them when Billie lept to her feet and said concerned, "Here, let me help you." I got a whiff of her perfume. It evoked images of leaping flames, dancing savages, and obscene midnight rituals. I must have gotten the same buggy-eyed stare that the coyote gets when he realizes he's just run off the cliff, because Billie gave me a puzzled glance.

So, there I was, the hippest predator in the jungle, acting like a teenage boy and there was Marvin the nerd looking cooler than DiCaprio himself. It was fucking humiliating. Billie took hers and then I made a point of handing a beer to Marvin and Skipper. I was determined to make a comeback.

We sat in descending order. I was the tallest. So, I was on the aisle, Skipper was next, then Marvin and Billie. Skipper was posing as the alpha bitch. To make that point, she kept resting her hand possessively on my knee, which was when I realized how women must feel when a guy who they aren't attracted to keeps touching them. Heavens!! Tonight, was just a cornucopia of excruciating new insights.

I really didn't hear the concert. I was too revved up by jealousy. There was no logical reason for feeling that way. But I nearly lost it when Billie leaned into Marvin to say something. It was noisy and hard to hear. But really??!! seriously??!!

Skipper wasn't helping by coiling herself around me like a climbing vine. It was as if this particular moment was the high point of her post-divorce world. Skipper's life wasn't easy, and I should have been more sympathetic. But still, I was in a place where I was NOT thinking clearly.

My fevered state became much more of an issue after the show. The venue was a natural bowl in a larger park north of Route-18, just outside of Milwaukee. It had once been an estate and there were grounds you could walk. So, instead of heading for the parking lot with the rest of the herd Skipper suggested that we follow a little trail into the surrounding woods.

Skipper was in front I was drifting back behind her trying to walk with Billie and Marvin was trailing. We hadn't gone twenty yards into the trees when Skipper stopped abruptly, turned, threw her arms around my neck, and gave me a tongue-swapping kiss.

I was astonished and so I went with the program. Then it dawned on me that the other two were probably doing the same thing right behind me. I broke the kiss, maybe a bit hastily, and turned to see where they were, and they'd DISAPPEARED!!

Skipper gave me a flirty smile and said, "I thought that the two of them could use a little alone time, and maybe we could find something to do while we wait - lover."

The girls must have arranged it in advance. Skipper and I had already fucked in a park, on a sand dune, and on a dock. Now she wanted to add "forest" to her list.

The problem was that I wasn't going to let my future wife fall into the horny clutches of Marvin fucking Finkbine. I said - trying to disguise how upset I felt, "We can't do that HERE. We've gotta find them and get home."

I figured we could just walk back along the path and find them making out a little further down. The mere thought of us stumbling on the two of them canoodling was killing me. But I knew that Billie had kids. So, she would most likely drive back once I wrestled them apart.

To my utter dismay and panic... we got back to the venue, and they were nowhere to be found!! Okay -- so perhaps the term "manhunt" is a bit of an exaggeration. But the search for the Lindbergh baby was undoubtedly less frantic.

I dragged Skipper everywhere looking for them. Most women would've been insulted by my zeal, but Skipper seemed to think that my frenzy was caused by my eagerness to sample her charms. It was pitch dark and I was just about at the end of my rope when they sauntered out of the trail holding hands. Billie's hair was a little mussed. But she didn't look well-fucked... Thank God!!

I said accusingly, "We've been hunting for you for over an hour." Skipper, who was still under the impression that my interest in finding them was due to my impatience to fuck her added, "Yeah! Where did you go?"

Billie said innocently, "Marvin was showing me around the venue. He's been here before." I calmed down. That is until I noticed the collection of pine needles and twigs that had accumulated on the back of Billie's jacket and in her hair. THAT nearly gave me a coronary. Marvin just looked smug.

Skipper was particularly demanding that night. She was never the sharpest knife in the drawer. But she must have sensed the disturbance in the force. So, when she called Billie the next morning, she made a point of telling her that she was sitting next to me in bed. Billie told her that she had just driven home after Marvin dropped her off.

I wanted to wring Skipper's neck for pulling that stunt. But at least she'd confirmed that my future wife wasn't an alley cat, whatever she and Marvin were up to in the woods. And THAT idea was something that I didn't even want to contemplate.

Once I'd disposed of Skipper, I did some heavy thinking. Everybody has phobias. Mine involved commitment. Why? I have no freaking idea... Maybe I'm just odd. But I got claustrophobic if my personal freedom was threatened.

So, I chose teaching because it gave me loads of free time without supervision and tenure gave me job security. I chose Lucy because I knew I could walk away from her. Then I'd flitted from womanly flower to womanly flower, like a happy honey bee. It was a pleasant and sensible life, if not a bit complacent and self-serving.

Then SHE came along, and I started doing stupid things. The dumbest being that I'd happily give up my precious liberty to be with her. If THAT was love - then I didn't want any part of it.

My immediate problem was that I'd handed Marvin a quitclaim to the only female I'd ever be willing to take a chance on. So, I couldn't launch a full-court press unless I wanted to put myself in the same category as every other douchebag who pulls that kind of shit.

Instead, I was doomed to ride the emotional rapids. And yes, I was feeling very sorry for myself. Which further reinforced my belief that love is a virus. Skipper benefitted from my obsession because I spent a lot of time with her, covertly pumping her for information. That was when she hit me upside the head with a two-by-four.

We were sitting in the same joint across the road when she said with a lascivious twinkle in her eye, "Your friend Marvin's going to get lucky tonight."

I took a moment to pop open another Miller, down it in a few big gulps, and belch loudly. That bought me the time that I needed to get myself back under control.

I tried to keep the anguish out of my voice as I said, "What did you just say!!?"

Skipper said airily, "Billie and Marvin have gone out several times now, and she thinks she's ready to take it to the next level."

The thought of the love of my life and Marvin the nerd making the two-backed-beast almost caused me to yak on the genuine dirt floor. But Skipper, who truly was clueless, wasn't done yet.

She nodded at a big guy in a John Deere shit-kicker hat and whispered conspiratorially, "That's Leon. Billie's head-over-heels in love with him." I tried not to look too appalled.

Skipper prattled on, "She knows there's no future since he's married, and his wife's family owns the farm that they're on. That's why she's lining up Marvin as a potential husband. But she and Leon still get together frequently."

Just what I needed to hear!! The woman who I was hopelessly in love with was regularly fucking the married guy next door while grooming Marvin the nebbish for the role of a potential husband. Could it get any worse??!! Of COURSE, it could!!

Skipper misread my pained expression. She laughed and said, "You shouldn't look so skeptical. Billie's really hot. Leon brags all the time about what a great fuck she is." Oh Lordy. Lordy!!! The resounding clunk was my heart hitting the floor.

I took a second to get my sanity back. Then I said trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, "So, you're telling me that Billie's a little slutty?"

Skipper looked angry for the very first time since I'd known her. She said indignantly, "Do you think I'M slutty?" I thought, "no comment" but I said, "Of course not. We're both single and we both like sex."

She added huffily, "Leon went after Billie, not the other way around. He was at her place the minute her divorce was finalized."

She finished with, "Billie's a normal woman and she loves sex, Plus, Leon can be very persuasive." I got the impression that Skipper was speaking from personal experience.

I thought to myself, "What the fuck's wrong with you, DUDE!!? Billie's a total stranger. What she does with her sex life is none of your business... yet!! But still, that last tidbit made me feel like I was being boiled in oil.

Skipper looked at me oddly, she had been doing that a lot lately, and continued, trying to sound reasonable, "You know what divorce does to a woman's self-esteem. Billie loved her husband and he fucked around on her. So of course, she's insecure. Leon played on that."

Damn!! I am SUCH a judgmental asshole... I said chastened. "You know what... I'm sorry. I had no right to say anything like that."

It was just the jealousy talking. It was too frustrating. I mean, I'd handed Billie to Marvin. It wasn't like anybody held a gun to my head. It was my choice. So now, I had to live with the consequences. Talk about conflicted!!

Then, there was Skipper. I'd never given her even a hint of a commitment. But I WAS regularly fucking her. That had to mean something. She got a proper railing that night because I couldn't stop thinking about Billie getting the same treatment from Marvin. Yes, I admit it, I was beginning to have serious concerns about my sanity.