Gigi and Frenchie

I trusted that Benji really loved me, above all others. I was the only one he had married. But I didn't really trust that my own love for Benji was real - and especially "above all others." Because I had never experienced any relationships like that with ANY other men. Not even a first puppy love. That star QB had kind of fallen for me and tried to see me. He even tracked me down to our little home near the swamps when I quit that school, and Mom invited him in.

He tried talking to me but I was just too embarrassed and shy to really even look at him. He really tried for about 2 months but then just had to let it go. I think about him sometimes, now. He became a real star at LSU and was even a second round draft pick in the NFL. He wasn't quite as successful as Brett Favre - another Cajun roots QB - yet, but he was hanging in there and waiting his chance and had already had a couple of real good games as a fill-in.

So, I WAS happy in my life with Benji and in general. But I wasn't satisfied. Sigh. Why isn't just some measure of happiness, enough? And so, though I was happy as I had ever been since I was 12 and that fateful day when Daddy decided to harvest their gator trot lines alone, I fucked it up. Bad. Maybe like Daddy fucked it up striving for a little more satisfaction in his own life.

His partner was just laid up real bad with a flu bug or food poisoning or something and throwing up that day. Uncle Joey begged Daddy not to do it - just wait one more day until he felt better. It was only Daddy's second year even doing this and the learning curve doing it all exactly right could be VERY steep - and very harsh. Kind of like scuba diving or rock climbing - only much, much worse.

His foot probably just slipped off the boat's gunwale while he was trying to pull a 250 lb. gator's head up so he could take the clean shot with his 30-30 carbine at the quarter size "sweet spot." This was the spot at the back of the head that killed a gator immediately with minimal damage to the rest of the valuable carcass. One little foot slip like that and he could have been pulled right over as a heavy gator kept thrashing. And then if the gator got his arm or leg it would have pulled him under and drowned him. I heard Uncle Joey talking with some other men after the funeral - well, memorial - service. (His body was never actually found. His boat was just drifting when it was located the next day.)

Many of these men had some bad scars visible on their own arms from "close calls." Hardly any experienced hunters would ever hunt solo. That's how they GOT "experienced." Even the $2000-3000 a day they might clear with a good day's haul of 10 gators of a normal mix - a mixture of 6 to 10 footers - just wasn't worth the risk. Better to split that in two every day while sharing the danger and the hard work. Muscling 2000+ pounds of gator every other day isn't easy work.

I'll say it wasn't worth the risk. "Just ask me!" I wanted to shout. But all I could do was weep, then.

I don't think Francie meant to do it - meant any actual harm. We were sisters and loved each other but were just very different. She was just trying to protect me and maybe prepare me for if or when Benji slipped into any of his old ways and "hooked up" with some other Bimbo. There sure were a lot out there, as I saw after Francie started pointing them out whenever we went out drinking and dancing all together. I guess it never occurred to me maybe I was such a "Bimbo" - or might appear to be, when Francie and I went out to those same type bars just alone together. Duh. Dumb, huh?

But she planted some seeds of doubt in my mind, below the conscious part even, and they started sprouting a little when all of a sudden, it seemed like, Benji was just gone a whole lot more than before - and often at night, as well. Had he started cheating on me? Was he going to leave me?

The first time Francie and I went out alone, we were approached by guys and finally allowed a couple of the nicest ones to buy us a drink and just talk with us. A year ago, maybe even 6 months ago - I couldn't have done that at all. Looked at stranger men in the eyes and actually have talked to them and even laughed and joked a little. Francie danced with both that night, but I wouldn't. They WERE nice men and it was just kind of fun. No harm, no foul.

That second time we went out is when we met the movie folks and Ryan. They noticed us sitting alone at a table. Actually, I think Ryan noticed ME - and sent one his flunkies, a personable lady "Production Assistant" complete with business cards, over to us to invite us to join him.

They were all real nice and pleasant company. No one had any kind of stuck up "we're big shot Hollywood types visiting redneck swamp country" attitudes at all. Ryan especially seemed entranced with me and I ate it up. I admit it.

He was just beautiful and handsome and somehow sexy as hell to me. And he was totally nice and attentive and just a little bit flirty. He wanted to hire us both as kind of "guides" and consultants on the Mobile area and especially the Mobile Cajun subculture.

Eventually he asked, "And do you know any Cajun policemen, maybe?"

Francie and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Finally I said, "Well, I know my husband pretty well. He's an experienced SWAT officer in the Tactical Response Unit of the Mobile Police Department...".

"Man, that's great! You've got to tell me all about him!"

"Don't you want to meet him and ask him anything you want, directly?"

I was sure that's what he would have wanted to do.

"Uh, not really. I would rather just hear everything from you. Your impressions and feelings about what he does. How it all affects you and other kin and friends, you know? That would be best for me as I try and "get into" my role."

I was already mesmerized by him and didn't really notice the sly grins on most of his coterie.

They ended up offering us $50 an hour, apiece, for any time we could carve out over the next week to help them out. They promised to cover all expenses as well, like providing transportation and covering food and drinks while we were "working."

Francie had a job waitressing and had some flexibility in her hours, with a little prior notice, but I didn't work at all. I could be available as much as they wanted me during the day. And apparently "they" - meaning Ryan who called all the shots - wanted me a lot, at least 4 hours every day the next 5 days. Francie made that first 4 hours but couldn't do the rest - or just maybe they cut her out gently.

Ryan and I were never officially "alone" together at any point that first week. But it sure felt to me like he and I were, as far as face-to-face interacting. I was just drawn to him and his bright blue eyes just got bigger and deeper as the week flew by. Maybe because my face just kept getting closer and closer to his as our conversations got more personal and intimate. And my body kept getting closer as well.

Somehow I even ended up talking - and bragging - about my sex life with my husband. He was very interested but just kind of smiled at me condescendingly, in a way.

"He's probably screwed a thousand women and in all kinds of ways and knows more about sex than I'll ever learn!" I started thinking. And I noticed my pussy getting wet thinking about that. About Ryan and HIS sex life. About the size of his dick and what special things he might do with it. I started blushing furiously. And Ryan noticed and just smiled a little more. But didn't tease me and even graciously changed the subject.

Chapter 4 -

Frenchie:

I woke up in my ICU bed the next morning and was pretty achy. I guess I rang for the nurse to talk about some pain meds. I HAD woken up about 2AM from the pain. And I swear the nurse was flirting with me before taking care of the pain.

Breakfast soon came and was VERY light. I'd be on almost a fluids diet for the next couple days. I'd probably be pretty grouchy, but I'd do my best. Poor Gigi and I grinned to myself.

Gigi came by at 10AM.

"Hello, Beautiful," I tried to be as upbeat and pleasant as possible.

She didn't smile back.

"Benji, Honey - I'm so sorry but I'm leaving for Hollywood today. I've met some people...well, I met a man, a Hollywood actor and I'm going back to Hollywood with him. He's going to put me in his next picture. I've got an agent and a signed contract and it's all a done deal that just all happened so quickly! I don't want to leave YOU and our marriage - I was hoping you would just come out to Hollywood with me when I finally got up the nerve to tell you...but now you've gone and got yourself shot and are stuck here!"

All this came out real fast and almost in one breath - and it ended in almost a wail.

I could read (well, hear) between the lines, quite well, thank you. She was doing some spinnin' here whether she knew it or not. Trying to let me down easy but also herself. She was hoping to have her cake and eat it too. She was hoping I'd not make a fuss and not just say "No". That I'd let her go and yet still love her and be her parachute available for a cushiony landing if her "new life" wasn't all that spiffy, after all. My poor Gigi. She just didn't know what she was doing to me and to us. I'd never told her about Miriam.

A whole lot flashed through my brain at this point, even though my thinking was dulled by the opiates I was on for the pain.

"You signed a contract, eh? What about that contract - your marriage vows - you already signed with me?" I said as gently as I could.

She blushed a deep rose and looked down and like a little 12 year old girl caught doing something bad - or stupid. I knew what her decision was going to be no matter what else I said now. I knew what she had already done or was going to do just as soon as she got to LA. She was going to fuck Mr. Hollywood Actor Asshole. I was suddenly happy she had never gotten pregnant. "Goodbye, Gigi" I silently whispered to myself.

"What's his name?" I again asked gently.

She looked me in the eyes now and clearly said, "Ryan Rickards."

"Don't think I've heard of him. Maybe I'll recognize him when I google him. Well, you signed a contract I guess you got to go. Goodbye." I wouldn't say her name and she was no longer my "Cher" or anything else precious to me.

She at least acknowledged that. She burst out crying and left the room. She didn't look back.

We both had brand new lives ahead of us. I was sure mine was going to be sadder. Maybe hers would be happier. But somehow I doubted it. Poor Gigi.

My day nurse saw her crying when she left. She was actually pretty cute. She came right in to check on me.

"You OK? Anything I can do for you?" she asked sympathetically.

"Well, maybe in about a month..." I smiled at her as best I could.

She looked at me very seriously. "It's a date. Count on it." And she did smile and wiggled her ass at me as she walked out. Thank heavens for kind working women, I thought...

************

Gigi:

I gave Benji the news and he took it pretty well, I thought. He didn't break down and he didn't get mad.

So why was I sobbing almost hysterically as I left his room? Why did I kind of feel like I did when my Daddy had died? Benji hadn't died and was going to be OK. That's what the Doctor said. But it felt like he was just - gone, now. I wanted to reassure Benji this was just a temporary separation. It's just that I didn't know how long it takes to shoot a movie and so I didn't know how long "temporary" might be. And Benji didn't seem interested in discussing it, anyway. "Oh, he'll get over it, soon enough," I told myself. I'll call him everyday!

I had to sit in my car for 20 minutes before I settled down enough that I felt it was safe to drive. Thinking about Friday night and then Saturday afternoon helped me a lot. Benji was on that stupid training exercise Friday night so Francie and I went back to the Marriott Hotel to meet Ryan and his people. We had a couple of drinks and were just joking around and talking about the movie and my role. Ryan said it was a done deal and the major Producer had already told the script writers to add my character in. I was going to be "Lt. Remy's" old girlfriend as a zydeco singer and be part of a romantic triangle with his new squeeze - the sexy woman ADA who was probably going to be played by Rachel McAdams. This was in between our dances.

Ryan mostly liked slow dances and I sure liked slow dancing with him. Later on when Francie was being kept real busy by a man she had just met - Ryan kind of sneaked me out and we went up to his room for a more private conversation.

"Listen, the producer loves you from just the phone pictures and videos I've sent him of you already...but there is an issue we need to discuss and make sure we're in synch on. This movie is going to be an edgier remake of "The Big Easy" and he and the director want a pretty hard "R" rating for it. This means some pretty steamy sex scenes and even a little nudity. It will be artistic but still erotic. Are you OK with that? Think you can handle fake love making scenes with me while practically or maybe totally nude? Kind of like Halle Berry in "Monster's Ball". She got an Oscar for that! So...?"

I smiled back at him. "Why, I think I can handle that. Should we practice - like rehearse?" I even fluttered my eyes at him. Ryan grabbed me and kissed me hard. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and I groaned. He helped me take my clothes off and I helped him take his now very hard cock out of his pants. He took some more pictures of me - for the producer and director. And we did everything BUT fuck for about an hour. I didn't quite cum but was I wet and turned on. That was why I practically raped Benji later that night. I had a worrying thought that just might have been the last time I would ever have sex with my husband. But I banished that negative thinking.

Then Saturday for almost 4 hours, Ryan and I "rehearsed" some more - this time he was totally naked too and I just loved the look and feel, and taste of his cock and cum juices. We worked on "faking" intercourse quite a bit - and sure enough his hard cock occasionally "slipped" right into my wet pussy - but we never actually fucked to his completion. I was in an almost constant orgasmic state. I still tried to convince myself I really hadn't "cheated" on Benji. This was just my new job which wasn't actually just a little whoring. It was ART! Yeah. I was a dumb slut.

I was looking forward to another great completion fuck with Benji that night and after I fucked his brains out, I'd spring the whole Hollywood thing on him and for sure convince him to come along. That was why my phone was off all day and I couldn't be reached. And Benji getting shot meant all my planning was for naught, anyway. As if Benji would ever have gone along with it. I never asked myself the key question - "gone along with my new high-paying career or me cuckolding him?" What was I really planning? I wouldn't face the obvious - it was both.

I had plenty of time to pack just one suitcase and meet Ryan at the Marriott by 3PM. Francie was going to drive me there. Only one suitcase because Ryan and "his people" were going to outfit me in totally new stuff when we got to L.A.

In the car Francie asked me a surprising question, "Are you sure you know what you're doing, Hon?"

"Whaa..? You're the one who pushed me to do this... always saying what a great opportunity it was. I'd be a star for sure with my beauty and voice just once I got out there and be seen. So what the fuck kind of question is this, now???"

"Well, it's just that Benji's all shot up now and he probably really needs you. And I know he really loves you. I always felt for sure he'd go with you and just look out for you..."

"Don't you worry. I've got Ryan to look out for me now - and he will. I've got him wrapped around my little finger. You'll see. And he just knows all there is to know about Hollywood and he's rich and pretty powerful. He's a star! People love him - the public."

I felt all better and just fine once I was with Ryan again. And just 3 hours later I was half-drunk on Delta Airlines vodka AND I had joined the "mile high club", as he did fuck me and came in my pussy in one of those little restrooms. Boy was that fun and relaxing.

And boy was that pretty much literally the high point of the whole "rest of the story" or in this case "rest of my life." I moved right in with Ryan and we fucked like rabbits "rehearsing" for about 2 weeks before he got bored with me. Really, just two weeks. But that was enough to get me pregnant. I didn't worry about birth control since I was having sex so regularly with my Benji and yet never got pregnant with my real love. There must have been something wrong with him or some incompatibility between us - or maybe it was just another of Mother Nature's little ironies.

But boy did I learn a lot in those two weeks and then afterwards. Ryan tried to keep me happy and himself somewhat interested in me by "expanding my sexual horizons." First it was a threesome with another married thirtysomething MILF where I learned about eating pussy and pleasing a woman and she taught me the REALLY fine points of cunnilingous.

Then it was a threesome with another man and double penetration. Ryan took my ass about the 3rd day we were there already anyway. Benji had just played with it a little but he never wanted to even take a chance on hurting me there and really wasn't that interested anyway. But Ryan and just about every other man I met in California sure was and they didn't care whether it hurt me or not. Generally, it didn't I'll admit - and at first I had some mind blowing orgasms with all the "expanding horizons."

After the threesome it was mostly foursomes - so every one of my "fuck holes" could be filled at once with young beautiful large hard cocks. Ryan really had a big dick - like comfortable "porn star" size, based on the porn videos Francie had once showed me. We used to laugh at them when watching. Francie used to ooh and ahhh at all those "big cocks" - but they just looked to me like the size of Benji's - no more than that. Ryan's and all his friends were just about the same, except for a couple who really did have like 12" long dicks. Real big dicks didn't make that much difference to me - orgasm wise - but the longer I was with Ryan the less appealing most of the guys were. Many started getting older and with smaller dicks - like under 6 or even 5 inches. What a waste of time that was, for me.

I was starting to get bored with all this just "porn" sex anyway. And that's when I figured it out. That was poor Ryan's basic problem. He just had a naturally low libido. He needed special "excitement" to have any sex at all.

Ever since he passed puberty, all kinds of older girls and even women had been making themselves available to him with no effort needed on his part other than basically just unzipping his pants and pulling it out. And MANY women would do all that for him as well.

And they'd suck him right up if he wasn't even hard. That was his life - his sex life - from the getgo. No flirting required. Not even any seduction and "chase" by him on most every woman he met. He was just that exceptionally "sexy" - the whole package. He ended up right at 6 feet tall, blue eyes, surfer blonde good thick hair, strong chin and nose, sensitive sexy lips, a real good masculine voice, and just smart enough to be able to act in front of a camera.

His life was a fantasy for most men - but it's all one big Catch-22 ultimately. More of Mother Nature's Ironic humor.

The main reason he went after me was because I was already married and never did just present myself to him. I was his own "fantasy woman" - a VERY beautiful and sexy woman that resisted him and he had to seduce. That was what got his juices flowing and a week or two of celibacy and "chasing" for him was what recharged his own - limited - sexual battery capacity.