Dinner at the Perryville Pt. 02

Into the kitchen I went, and there she, all prettied up in some kind of mini-dress; a sexy little yellow thingy with white sleeves, white Peter pan collar, and white half apron tied off in a pretty bow in the back. Her hair was up in a bun exposing her long neck. She pulled out my usual chair, and set a plate of eggs and bacon down on the table. I realized I was hungry. I sat down.

Marjory stood beside me, and poured out a cup of coffee. She pressed against me, and even though it was early in the morning I could smell her musk. She half lifted the skirt of her dress, and I saw she wasn't wearing any panties. I put my coffee down, used a fork to scoop up some eggs with my right hand, and used my left to reach up between her thighs. Her little slit was hot and sopping wet. As I sipped my fingers further up her crevice she pressed in closer and tighter. She was breathing heavily.

I turned to tell her I wasn't buying the 'come on', but before I could open my mouth she was in my lap, her hands were in my hair, her lips were on my mouth, and her crotch was pushing hard up against my loins. What was I supposed to do?

I growled, "Just a quickie." I stood up, and with my right hand holding her ass up while my left undid my trousers. I pushed her back and up against the kitchen counter. She stopped kissing me, and pressed her head against my shoulder, all the while inhaling hot, nervous gulps of air. It had been more than just a couple weeks, and I was in great need of release. I guessed she was too. I slammed into her as hard as I could. She replied by wrapping her arms around my shoulders while thrusting her pelvis into me just as relentlessly. She was so hot and tight, and I felt like I was as hard as I'd ever been in my whole life, since high school had I been this hard. Back in high school I couldn't remember not having a hard on... or blue balls.

I kept pounding, and she kept thrusting back. I couldn't hold out. I was so deep inside, I was pushing so hard into her cervix I knew it had to hurt, but she kept thrusting back. Finally I let loose! I had no idea I'd had so much semen stored up inside me, I seemed to go on and on forever. Marjory kept thrusting, and then she stopped; she wrapped her arms ever so tightly around me, she kept gasping for air and emitting deep almost guttural moans, and then she stopped too. She collapsed, no she wilted. She'd had a biggie too! I felt bad. I knew I'd miss this; enjoying her orgasms had always been such a delight to me.

I stepped half a pace away. My Johnson sprang out of her like a coiled dragon. I didn't know what to call it, but it was like there was this surge of 'after-semen' that spilled out of me and all over her thighs and rumpled outfit. I wanted to stay home, call my secretary at the office and just take the day off, but I knew there was too much to do. I guessed, yeah, I'd given in. I looked down her; she was so small. She seemed to melt in front of me.

She wasn't crying, but there were tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't say anything, but she did look up. The look of desperation was palpable. Without a sound except for a few last deep gasping breaths she stepped back, and then she flew out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I looked down at my trousers and knew I couldn't go to work the way I was, there was just too much spent semen all over the place.

I went back upstairs and changed my pants and shirt. The door to the spare bedroom was closed. I couldn't hear anything so I went back downstairs, threw the half eaten eggs and bacon between two slabs of bread and left for work. All the way to work I kept thinking about how fucked up things had become.

++++++++

That morning I was in my office planning on interfacing with my secretary. Her name was Valerie Rimini, an older full-figured Italian woman who'd come out of retirement to work for me. She liked it that I hit and left the office early; that gave her the opportunity to close up and go home early some afternoons. She was a quiet woman who minded her own business; she did her work without stirring up trouble. She knew Marjory, she knew we'd been having problems, but I was sure she'd keep out of it. I was wrong.

I got to the building where my office and supplies were, turned on my office computer and started to look things over. Then I got a text; it was from Valerie, she was coming in early and I should wait before I went anywhere. She pulled her 1969 Chevy Camaro in a little after 6:00. Valerie's husband was an auto mechanic, and she often drove the cars he'd fixed up, lately he'd been on a Camaro kick.

She got out, and came in. She didn't even wait to change out of her shoes to her slippers. She said, "Have you made up with Marjory yet?"

Stumped for half a second until I realized Marjory must have been on the phone. "How long ago did she tell you," I asked?

"Long enough, and she's still crying. We just hung up. What's your problem Cullen?"

She ticked me off so I told her, "It's none of your business."

Even through her sexy olive complexion I could see her turn bright red. She stood there fumbling with her keys. Then she threw a key on my desk, "Oh yeah? I quit!"

"What," I said.

"You heard me", she said, "I quit. I'm not working for some misogynistic bastard who thinks he can torture his poor wife over a mistake she's sorry for and has been crying about every night since."

"Wait a minute," I said, "you can't just quit. Christ Valerie, give me a break will you?" I had to think real fast, "What did she say to you?"

"She told me everything. She told me about the Sociologist. She told me she committed adultery. She told me you caught her. She said she's been trying really hard to not lose you, but you're making it hard for her."

"Wait a minute," I said, "Did she tell you how I caught her?" Worried Marjory might have said something about our 'special dinner' at the Perryville I added, "Did she tell you what I did to her after I caught her?" I paused for effect and then added more, "And has she been telling you how I've been mean to her?"

She almost yelled, "Yes, no, and no!"

"What," I asked?

"She said you caught her meeting a man for lunch at the Perryville Diner, and that you caught her and this other person using the Comfort Inn. But no she didn't say you did anything to her, and she certainly didn't say you've been mean. In fact you've been worse! You've been polite and considerate."

I was seriously discomfited, "She didn't tell you how I made her have dinner at the Perryville while her "other person" was treating his wife and children to a dinner right across the aisle?"

Valerie flew into a rage, "You did what to her? You made her sit in the same restaurant, right across the aisle from her "other person", and you made her eat dinner there, like that!"

"That had been the plan, but Marjory got so upset we had to leave."

"You are a cruel viscous bastard. Now I'm glad I'm not working for you anymore."

She hadn't left yet. Maybe I could get her stay. I asked, "When was the last time you talked to my wife?"

She looked at her watch, "About an hour ago."

"Jesus," I thought. I asked, "What did she say?"

"She said she tried to make you make love to her this morning, but you wouldn't."

I yelled, "That's bull shit! We had some great sex this morning!"

"Sex isn't love," she said.

I realized where I'd fucked up, it had been a triple fuck, now it'd become a quadruple! First, I guess I could've just kicked Marjory to the curb, gone for divorce and fucked up my son's life, my life, and probably ruined my business. Second, not having done that I let work interfere with what I had planned. I'd been swamped with work. Everybody from everywhere was asking about me, and I'd been too greedy or too motivated to turn any of it down. That logically led to my third fuck up; I'd mentally laid out a plan on how I'd figure out if the Sociologist was a part of something or just a stupid asshole who felt safer looking for a piece of poontang as far from home as he could get it. And now this; my fourth fuck. Businesswise I couldn't lose Valerie, but I knew she had to go. So what was I going to do now?

If I could just keep Valerie around long enough to find a suitable replacement I'd be OK. I tried smiling at Valerie, "See here Val. I need you. You're honest and reliable. I don't know where I could get someone to replace you, let alone on such short notice. Think about this Val; if I couldn't get along without you, what would happen to my, no our, business? And if the business failed where would that leave Marjory? Come on Mrs. Rimini, stick with me on this." I laid it on, "Who knows? We might reconcile," then I lied, "We most likely will reconcile."

She gave me a thoughtful look. Then she picked her key back up. "OK... but I'm watching you Cullen. Try to do the right thing. At least give her a chance."

Relieved, I replied, "I haven't left her yet."

"Just try to be fair... OK?"

I silently breathed a sigh of relief; a possible disaster had been averted. I decided to try to keep Valerie in the loop, but more on my terms, at least until I found a replacement, "Do me a favor Val. If Marjory keeps calling, tell me what she says."

She grumbled, "Just so you know."

I knew, Valerie was on my wife's side. She was a definite goner.

I got out of the office a few minutes later, and spent the rest of the day doing what I loved most, my job. I still had a lot on my mind. I knew tonight's dinner with Marjory's parents would be tough.

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Home at 6:00 p.m., and Marjory was ready and waiting in the living room. She said, "Madge Doppler next door said she'd come over and watch Ryan while we were out. Mom and dad will be here soon. You have just enough time to shower and change."

I looked her over as I went upstairs. She looked good. I knew she would. She was wearing a white dress with black polka dots. It had just shoulder length short sleeves. I thought the hemline was way too short, and the neck line plunged way too far down in front. She had on a pair of white heels, maybe three inches. She was wearing a pearl bracelet and necklace; both things I'd bought her for Christmas once. Her naturally curly hair looked cute. Something wasn't quite right; she looked a little too pretty, maybe a little too sexy to be going out with mom and dad, but there was something more, something else that wasn't quite right. Looking down from one of the higher steps I saw what it was; she was wearing a demi-cup bra. This was for mom and dad?

I took a quick shower, slipped on a short sleeved tattersall button down, a pair of tan khaki pants, and a clean pair of loafers. I looked in the mirror. I needed a haircut; still I thought I looked pretty good, all tanned and healthy. Downstairs I heard Marjory's mom and dad come in. There was a lot of whispering, nothing I could understand. I got down and asked, "So where are we headed?"

Dad smiled, "I thought we'd eat at the American Legion tonight. Jeremy Wainwright just got home from Afghanistan, his third tour you know. He's a major now, been wounded, purple heart, bronze star. They're having a do for him at the A.L."

"Shit," I thought, Marjory's dad was a veteran, National Guard, served in the First Iraq War, been in a West Virginia unit at the time. I never did figure out what he did, but he was a key figure, at least he always said he was.

Her dad added, "You'll like it Cullen. It's going to be great. They're serving chicken and roast beef."

Marjory's mom just beamed, and I knew why. Good old war hero Wainwright had been an off and on item with Marjory before I showed up. I got it; Jeremy Wainwright, war hero, Cullen Culverson, Jody.

We got to the Legion Hall just as everybody else was piling out of their cars. I knew a few of them, but to be completely clear most of them were strangers. A lot of it had to do with the fact that I was so much younger than nearly all of them, and that I'd never served. My father had never served, and I was sure to some of those guys I was an outsider and would always be an outsider.

We got in the hall and found our seats. I was surprised about the seating because we were placed at a table just left of the main table and dais. There were twelve at our table, me and Marjory, her mom and dad, and three other couples all of whom were veteran families and they were all older. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

I scanned the area. There was seating for at least two hundred people. There was an open nonalcoholic bar, two actually, but if anyone wanted a beer or mixed drink they had to pay. Food was going to be served buffet style, which made perfect sense to me since the place was going to be crowded.

We took our seats and I asked Marjory and her mom if either wanted anything to drink. Marjory asked for a coke. Her mom said the same. Dad said he'd get a beer. I asked, "If you're there, while I'm getting the ladies their cokes would you get me a Pabst?"

Dad said, "No, its pay your own way tonight."

I smiled, "Sure dad, thanks." He walked to off to get his beer. I walked down to get the girls their sodas.

It took a while, but I managed to squeeze in, get the cokes, and work my way back to our table. When I got back there seemed to be some kind of minor commotion. I wondered what it was until I saw that my "wonderful wife" had attracted a small gathering. It reminded me of the scene from "Gone with the Wind" when the heroine was surrounded by admirers all seeking permission to bring her some barbecue. I remembered that movie because my mother made me watch it with her once when I was little. I recalled how much I hated the experience. I guessed Marjory's dress was doing its job.

I put the cokes down. Marjory looked up happily and said, "You needn't have bothered Brian already brought me one." Brian was another of her old boyfriends. I looked around at the scattered group of imbeciles who were gawking at my wife, most of them were trying to get a boob shot, and I wondered where they'd all been fifteen years ago. I thought, "If they'd been around then I wouldn't be dealing with the problem I had now, but then I wouldn't have Ryan."

I left her and her mom their cokes, and I went off to secure a beer. On the way over some old guy with a long grey beard, big belly, and shaved head took the microphone at the dais. After the compulsory screeching and squealing of the equipment he burped into the mike, grunted testing, testing, and started to say something. I was in line for a beer so I was only half listening, but I did hear him get out that this was more than just a special event for Wainwright, but a special occasion for all our veterans. Then he asked us all to stand, and they presented the 'colors". We all stood for the National Anthem and said the Pledge of Allegiance.

After that I got my beer and surveyed the crowd; almost all the men, and a few of the women, were wearing some sort of head gear, mostly cunt caps with different insignia, but there were a few baseball caps too. Though it was a little disconcerting, I guessed if someone was going to wear a hat like that this was the time and place to do it. Looking about I realized there just weren't very many hatless men in the hall. I was one of the few, the cowardly... the yellow. Did I give a shit? Yeah, a little.

I got back to our table in time to hear some lady at the dais call out they'd be inviting the tables to go to the buffet one at a time. I asked Brian, or was it Gary, if he'd get out of my seat so I could sit down. He complied, but not before telling Marjory he'd be back for a dance later. She smiled and nodded.

Wouldn't I know it? We were at the first table to the left so they started calling up the first table from the right so I got to listen to a bunch of older men reminisce about their "war experiences". Other than my father-in-law none of them had done much.

One fellow at our table was wearing a Vietnam veteran's hat. I asked, "What'd you do in Vietnam? I bet it was tough."

He replied, "I actually never was in Vietnam per se. I was a mechanic aboard the U.S.S. Forestall. No direct combat," he added, "but it could get pretty dangerous with all those jets taking off and landing."

The other men all nodded sagely. I decided to keep out of any further conversation. I just listened. Our table was called, and we got our food. It was pretty good; they had fried chicken, roast beef, and some kind of pasta dish I didn't recognize. We ate. I retrieved more cokes for the girls. Marjory's dad went back and forth to the beer several times. I shifted over the coca cola.

After what I supposed was a suitable length of time, following the sherbet of course, the old guy with the beard, belly, and no hair reclaimed the mike. There was another burp, more like a belch this time, and then he got to the main event.

"Tonight we're here to honor our veterans, especially one of our own hometown boys Jeremy Wainwright. But before I bring up Jeremy would all our veterans please stand?"

I sat quietly while every man, and one woman at our table stood up. Looking about it was no surprise to see nearly all the men standing, plus quite a few women. The old gentleman then said, "Thank you. Please remain standing, and would everyone else please stand for a moment of silence for all our heroes who've fallen in defense of our freedoms?" I stood up, and we all remained standing in respectful silence for about a minute.

Then the old guy said, "Thank you, please be seated," we all sat back down, "and now I'd like to bring up the hero of the evening; survivor of three tours of duty in Afghanistan, winner of a bronze star, and purple heart, our very own Jeremy Wainwright."

At that everyone in the audience came to their feet and started clapping. Jeremy took center stage, waited a second or so, and then held up his hands and slowly dropped them down. That was our signal to sit down and stop clapping. It was also his signal to start talking, and he did.

Maybe I was a little jealous, or perhaps a little too critical, but he sure didn't impress me much. He looked kind of pasty. He had on a well-fitting uniform, but I could see he had an overripe tummy. I knew I was in better shape. Was I being tacky? Sure, after all he'd just gotten home from the "sand box", but if it was all that hot and dry wouldn't he be a little thinner?

He stood silently for a moment or so, and then began, "First I'd like to thank my mom and my dad, my sister Kathleen, and my younger brother Stewart. They've all been real stalwarts over the years." Everyone clapped. He went on, "I'd especially like to thank our lord and savior Jesus Christ for giving me the grace and courage to face many difficult challenges, and bring me home safely to my family and all of you out there."

He paused again, this time for effect, and then went on, "You all know I never married. There've been two reasons for that. For one I believed, because of what I decided to do with my life having a wife might have become an unfair burden on any woman who agreed to marry me, and I could never do that. Then second, the only girl I ever really loved found her life was better suited in the arms of another." With that he made more than a passing glance at our table.

I glanced around our table. My wife was staring at Jeremy with one of those wistful looks a woman sometimes has when she's espied her favorite piece of pastry on the bakery shelf. It wasn't hero worship; it was more one of those dreamy looks like, "If I just wasn't on a diet".

I always thought Jeremy was kind of a creep. His comment directed at my wife confirmed that, but it added another possibility. If my wife really wanted to get back with Jeremy I certainly wouldn't stand in her way, and it confirmed me in a decision from which I'd been hiding. At first I'd decided on divorce, then I'd started waffling, but this thing, this possible new thing involving the old boyfriend closed the deal. For sure, if I didn't divorce her I knew the old adage 'once a cheater always a cheater' could easily re-emerge.