How to Get Fired

During college I, Brandon Grimes, had a number of romantic relationships. They all seemed to peter out rather than end with sound and fury. That was OK with me. Despite the fact that I had intense confrontations all of the time on the football field as an outside linebacker for a Division I school in a Power Five conference, I tend to avoid them in normal life.

Despite being a jock I got a good education along with my BS ("Bachelor of Science," not "bullshit") degree in Business Administration. I got a number of good job offers and at twenty two years old started out working for a medium sized firm named Mastick LLC in a medium sized city close to outdoor recreational activities.

The people at my office were, as a rule, very pleasant and friendly. The big boss in my department, Samuel Smith, was demanding yet understanding at the same time. He ran a tight ship, but with a level of compassion that I didn't think a big firm would have. My immediate supervisor Linda Lovell, was highly competent and very fair, and my dozen or so co-workers in my immediate department seemed to work well as a team rather than engaging in back stabbing.

I had been working at Mastick for about six months when I went on a weekend adventure excursion with a male friend of mine. We were both quite impressed with two of the women on the trip, Anita and Vivian; they seemed to be a little bit older than we were but did not give off "married" vibes and wore no engagement or wedding rings. All ten people -- not counting our female guide Liz -- were friendly and outgoing, and we had a great campfire Saturday night before we slept in some remote cabins.

Sunday we were doing some repelling when a mini-disaster struck. Vivian's main carbineer -- something that is supposed to support 2500 pounds but was obviously defective -- snapped. She hit her head on the cliff she was repelling down (fortunately with a helmet on) and was left hanging. Being the largest and strongest person there I repelled down after her, held her with one arm while I detached her from her rope with the hand of my other arm, and then holding her in one arm repelled down to the ground.

Vivian was a little scraped up and probably had a mild concussion. After we rested for a while Liz decided that we should return to our vehicles. I carried Vivian's backpack while my friend carried Anita's and Anita walked gingerly with Vivian, helping her whenever necessary.

My friend and I made sure that Anita and Vivian were OK, loaded up Vivian's Mercedes, and Anita drove them away, but not before we exchanged cellphone numbers.

When I was honest with myself, I was really turned on by Vivian when I helped her during repelling. She had a hard body, with killer thighs, and although not beautiful she certainly was attractive. Although still a little spaced out from her head injury when we parted she profusely thanked me for helping her down the cliff, and carrying her backpack.

I thought a lot about Vivian the next week, but for whatever reason never called her, although I did send her a couple of texts to see if she was OK; in her last one she replied that she was OK followed by heart emojis.

About ten days after I saw Anita driving Vivian away from our excursion as I got in my car to drive home after work one day I got a call from Vivian. After a little small talk and her assurances that she had completely recovered from her scraped skin and head injury she said "I want to thank you for saving me Brandon. Please let me treat you to dinner?"

As a red-blooded hetero male there was no way that I was turning it down but did say "You don't need to treat me; we can go Dutch."

"No I insist," she cajoled, so we made plans for Friday. She was to pick me up at 6:30 at my apartment.

Friday's "date," because that's what it turned out to be, was definitely one of the best of my life. After dinner in a hopping restaurant we went dancing and I found out what a fun "girl" she really was. She was the best dancer at the club and really knew how to shake her toned body. In the few slow dances she really gloomed onto me and since she had four inch heels on her five feet five inch frame she melted perfectly into my six foot two inch frame.

My conversations with her were unusual. Neither of us inquired about where the other worked, only what our basic jobs were, but did fully explore our likes and dislikes, which seemed to mesh almost completely. She told me that she was thirty years old, although I would have guessed that she was slightly younger than that, but seemed to have no hang-up that at that point in time I was about seven years younger than she was. She had never been married, drove a new Mercedes because her grandparents left her with a trust fund, and she said that she loved staying home as much as partying -- although you could have fooled me with that given how hot she was at the club.

Vivian was a little tipsy when we left the club, and since I only drink alcohol at all to be polite and never get drunk I suggested that I drive her car home, and she was very agreeable.

Vivian sent out lots of positive vibes when I drove us to my apartment. When we got there I said "Why don't you come up and let me make you some coffee."

"Maybe I can see your etchings too," she snickered.

When we got into my apartment it was clear that she wasn't interested in either coffee or etchings. Although her words were a little slurred, it was plain that she wasn't drunk when she said "I hope that you're not going to take advantage of poor helpless me," as she pressed her soft lips into mine. "There is no way that little 'ole me could fight off a big strong guy like yourself if you decided to lift me up and carry me into your bedroom and ravish me," she moaned, giving me a quick kiss between every two or three words.

I may be a jock, but I'm not a dumb jock. I was as turned on as I ever was in my life by Vivian's hard body and coquettish demeanor. After a particularly long lip lock I picked her up and carried her into my bedroom.

Vivian was the hottest bitch that I had ever dealt with in my life. Within 60 seconds of entering my bedroom she was naked on the bed doing everything in her power to free my hungry cock from my boxers. After she almost literally ripped my boxers off she started doing a vacuum cleaner imitation on my cock. Not wanting to waste a load outside of her pussy I shortly disengaged her powerful lips from my cock, pushed her down on the bed, and started licking, tonguing and fingering her labia and clitoris. She quickly came with the power of a stick of dynamite and then started a "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" incantation.

I reached into my nightstand drawer for a condom -- she would have none of it. "What are you doing?" she growled as she tried to work my excited cock into her cooch.

"I'm getting protection," I whined.

"Fuck no, I'm on birth control and clean. I don't want a piece of plastic in my pussy -- I want your cock," she both screamed and moaned at the same time.

"We can always do STD tests tomorrow," flashed through my brain in a zeptosecond with my raging cock in charge, and soon I was buried balls deep in as warm, moist, and snug a place as existed on our green Earth.

I thought that I had had some really good sexual experiences in college; they paled in comparison to my intercourse with Vivian. She was zealous, active, physical, emotional, and brazen all at the same time. My first discharge into her felt like a volcano erupting and caused her to shriek, wiggle, twist, and spasm as she clamped her pussy muscles on my cock like she would never let it go.

After we disengaged from our first fuck -- which was the best experience of my life up to that point, not just best sexual experience -- she was a pillow talk chatterbox. She was funny, charming, sensual, and generally delightful. After a while she started massaging my cock, grinned, and while staring into my soul said "Eat my just-fucked pussy and I'll give you the cowgirl ride of your life."

So I did; and true to her word, so did she, bouncing around so vigorously that I was sure that she would rip my dick off. Fortunately that did not happen, but our virtually simultaneous orgasms may have even topped my Mt. Vesuvius imitation first fuck.

We fell asleep with her engulfed in my arms. Sometime early morning, before the sun was up, she poked my ribs until I woke up. "Four a. m. fucks are my favorite," she chortled. "Get with the program stud, she continued and then started sucking my cock. I couldn't believe that the vixen then made me fuck her doggy style while she seemed to grind her ass and pussy. Once again I came with force -- more energetic that any previous third time in my life -- while she whimpered and shivered after I injected her with a large load of seminal fluid.

As we ate breakfast naked the next morning there was no doubt in either of our minds that our sexual relationship was going to continue for a long time.

Over the next two months I was in sexual nirvana. Vivian came over to my apartment twice a week, at odd times, and somehow (although I thought it impossible) sex with her got even better than our first night together. I would have liked to see her more, but she had a very strange situation, as she explained it.

It seems that we could never go to her apartment because she had a wacko roommate who she wanted to get rid of but was contractually bound to split the rent with for the next year; her job obligations were very erratic and often took her out of town; and she also did volunteer work. To be honest there were parts of my brain that wondered if everything she said was true because some things seemed highly improbable. However, a normal horny twenty three year old male getting the best sex of his life is not going to overthink things, and I was a normal horny twenty three year old male. She probably could have told me that she was a wicked witch and I wouldn't have given a damn as long as our fabulous sex life continued.

In addition to the on average two nights a week she spent at my apartment cuddling while watching a movie and then having mind-blowing sex, we were usually able to work out together at a health club we both joined near my office. It was watching her workout that led me to understand how she had such a hard body, with thighs that defied description.

I thought that my life couldn't get any better when Vivian started coming over to my apartment three times a week, and usually staying over two. She said that her work obligations had lightened up a little. We never had a sexual experience that wasn't better than every other sexual experience in my life before Vivian.

***********

While my sex life was at a peak higher than I could even have dreamed of, my work life was going along smoothly too, even if not with the same passion. I had endeared myself to Linda by working directly with her on a few projects, and then I and a co-worker endeared ourselves to Samuel by effectively and efficiently doing a research project specifically for him. I got two raises and a promotion.

It was a little more than a year since I started at Mastick LLC, and about seven months since my relationship with Vivian had started, when I was waiting for Vivian in a hotel lobby one Thursday night of a three day weekend. We were planning on having dinner at the hotel restaurant, then dancing at their in-house dance club, and then going back to my apartment for another night of sexual bliss.

As I was sitting in a chair grouping looking toward the hotel entrance for Vivian's arrival my big boss Samuel Smith walked in. It seemed like he was surprised to see me, but being a nice guy he came over, shook my hand, and then sat at another chair in the grouping with his back to the entrance.

After exchanging some small talk Samuel asked "So what brings you here on a Thursday night, Brandon?"

"I'm here to meet my girlfriend. We're going to have dinner, dance, and then go back to my apartment," I smiled.

"Oh, how long have you two been together?"

"About seven months; I met her on an outdoor excursion and we really seemed to hit it off."

"What's she like?"

I was getting a little uncomfortable with Samuel's questions, but I wasn't about to completely shut my big boss down, yet I didn't want to reveal too much, so I chose my words carefully. "Uh...well...uh...she's thirty one, a little older than I am. She has a great personality and is...uh...well... fun to be with. We seem to have a lot in common," I stammered.

"What does she look like?"

"Uh...well...uh...well...she's five five and really likes to work out...in fact I just saw her come in, I'll introduce you," I said, relieved because I wasn't comfortable talking about my girlfriend with my big boss.

Vivian approached with a big smile, looking like a billion bucks, with a dress that fit her sculptured body perfectly with four inch high heels to match.

"You look great Vivian," I said as I gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

"So do you dude," she smiled.

Then I gently turned her toward Samuel who was still sitting in the chair but staring directly at her. I started to say "Vivian Bartlett I'd like to..." when I stopped in mid-sentence. Samuel had a sneer on his face and Vivian's face had just lost all its color and her mouth was agape.

I was only lightly holding Vivian's arm, but even if I was holding it tightly it probably wouldn't have made a difference because she bolted away from me with the quickness of an All-American wide receiver.

I called out "Vivian..." and took a step toward her fleeing body when Samuel lightly put his hand on my nearest arm. "Sit down, Brandon, there's something that you need to know."

I was at a loss for what to do or say so I collapsed back into my chair. It was lucky that I did because otherwise I might have fallen when Samuel said "Her name isn't Vivian Bartlett but Vivian Bartlett Smith, and she isn't thirty one but thirty seven, and she's my wife!"

I had often heard the expression "brain freeze" but I never really understood it -- until that moment. My brain literally shut down. I think that Samuel was saying some more things to me because his lips were moving, but I was incapable of understanding. It seems that he finally understood that, got up and sat next to me, and gently shook me apparently trying to snap me out of my stupor.

I guess it worked because after the passage of a period of time I had no way of even estimating I turned to him and said "I didn't know that she was married."

"I believe you, Brandon. No one could fake your reaction; I just hope that the revelation doesn't result in long term trauma," he said.

Samuel then proceeded to ask me questions for another five minutes. I was like an automaton in answering them. When they got too personal I finally said "I'm sorry Mr. Smith; I can't talk about it anymore; my mind is blown; I have to leave."

Before I could get up he put a hand on my arm and quietly and with no rancor said "I'm sorry but I think you can understand that there is no way I can have you working for me anymore. Clear out your desk Monday. You'll get a month's severance pay and I'll give you an honest great recommendation because you've earned it. However, there is no way that I could deal with seeing you every day knowing that you've fucked my wife even once, let alone for seven months."

Yeah, I understood. Fucking the boss's wife, regardless of the circumstances, gets one fired.

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

Monday I got in early and cleared out my desk before anyone else arrived. Linda was walking in while I was exiting and asked "Why the glum face, and why are you carrying two boxes?"

"I've enjoyed working with you Linda," I replied on the verge of tears. "I just need to go." With that I kept walking even though I heard Linda calling out to me.

I was in a funk for the next week. While I didn't like losing my job, I was confident enough that I could find another one once I got past my lethargy. What really hurt, however, was losing my relationship with Vivian; not only that, but that she was a first class liar.

About the only times that I wandered out of my apartment the first week were to buy food and to go work out -- at times that I was sure Vivian wouldn't be at the health club, assuming that she would ever show her cheating face there again.

It was the start of the second week of my unemployment and heart break when I finally realized that I needed to send some resumes out. I emailed a few and hand carried a few to local businesses. When I got back from hand delivering the resumes and opened up my apartment front door Vivian was sitting on the couch. Since she had a key it wasn't surprising that she could get in; what was surprising was that she did.

"Hello Brandon," she meekly said, not making an attempt to get off the couch.

"Hello Mrs. Smith," I calmly replied.

"I won't be for long; Samuel has already filed for divorce and I'm not going to contest it."

"Why are you here?" I asked in a monotone hoping that there was no emotion in my voice.

"In the long term to see if we have a future together; in the short term to see if you will give me a place to stay. I have been at Anita's house since the incident at the hotel but she has guests coming this week and I wonder if I could stay with you for a week."

"How could you possibly think that we could have a relationship after all of the lies that you told me?"

"Because I have no reason to lie any longer; and because I love you."

Vivian had never used the "L" word before. Given her track record of course I wasn't going to believe her -- but looking at the meekness she now projected when for the last seven months she had always projected strength I couldn't bring myself to yell at her and summarily throw her out. I did have one question, though.

"I need an honest answer to a question before I can even consider letting you stay here for a week. Did you know that I worked at Mastick or knew Samuel?"

Vivian stared at me with teary eyes. "I know that you have no reason to trust me Brandon, but I swear on my mother's grave that I did not know otherwise despite my physical attraction to you I never would have started a relationship with you."

I sighed. "OK, I'm a stupid sap, but you can stay with me until Anita's guests leave. But you'll have to sleep on the couch."

Now in full blown weep Vivian bounded off the couch, squeezed me tightly and moaned "Thank you Brandon -- you'll never regret it."

Of course the average reader is a lot less naïve than my 23 year old horny self was. Her sleeping on the couch lasted one night then she attacked me like she wanted to possess me. After knocking off a piece of spectacular ass at 4 a. m. a few days in a row, there was no way that I was going to force her to leave after a week either.

Other lies that she told, about having a job, a trust fund, etc., gradually revealed themselves; none surprised me. What did surprise me was that she seemed devoted to making my life as great as possible, not only in the bedroom, but in general. We never talked about the details of her divorce with Samuel, we never argued, and we seemed to get emotionally closer every day.

As I am writing this I apparently am still thinking with my dick. My best job offer was in a city 800 miles away and Vivian made it clear that she was coming with me. After breaking in our new apartment in our new city by fucking in each of the four rooms, and the closet, I am wondering if I will ever stop thinking with my dick. I will never trust her, but there is no way I'm getting rid of her either. Unlike my college relationships if this one ends it won't just peter out -- it will end with sound and fury.

Sigh!