I Hope You Fuck Better Than You Lie

"Well, let's give it a shot."

"Okay. We'll have her served in the next few days. Do you have any idea where she'll be?"

"Either at work at the bakery, at home, or in Canada with him, I suppose."

"Well, we certainly can't serve her in Canada, so we'll try her at home or at work."

"Works for me. You can reach me on my cell or at my parents." I was tired of living with my parents so I spent the next few days looking for my own apartment. I found one that wasn't the fanciest or best in town, but it was mine.

A week later Julie was served at work.

My father owned a small welding shop. I had never shown either interest or aptitude for welding, but that started to change. He convinced me to go to work with him just to get me out of my apartment. Both he and my mother thought I was spending way too much time cooped up. I had considered going to work for another trucking company, but never built much enthusiasm for it; or anything else as far as that goes, so I went to the welding shop. My father had a pickup truck with portable welding equipment on it and mostly all he did was repair things. Occasionally a customer would ask for a specialty item and my father would make it.

Julie tried several times to talk to me, but after she was served, everything went through our attorneys. Our first meeting took place about a month after she was served. Her attorney, of course, tried to get the adultery dropped. I absolutely refused. Bradley was named in the application for divorce and Julie was desperate to not have his name appear anywhere near a divorce action for adultery.

"It could ruin his reputation in the community. He doesn't deserve that." She argued.

I exploded. "Are you serious? He's a wife stealing slimeball and the community should be told about him."

Julie jumped in with, "if you had treated your wife better she wouldn't have been able to be stolen."

That started an argument between us that could only be stopped by putting us in separate rooms. After we cooled down, and were in the same room again, she, again, tried to get me to remove his name.

"I'm not going to do it so forget it. Why are

trying so hard to protect him? Do you plan on marrying him? Are you still fucking him?"

"For your information he and I are still seeing each other, so yes, I'm still fucking him."

Her attorney just lay his head on the table and groaned, and without raising it, spoke. "You just admitted in front of your husband and two officers of the court that you committed adultery. That's probably the worst thing you could have done."

"At this point, I don't care," she said. Then to me. "In answer to your other question, yes I am going to marry him. Just as soon as he gets divorced."

"So you think he loves you?" I asked.

"Of course."

I put my phone on the table and played his message to me.

"He didn't mean that. He was just pissing you off."

I laughed as Mr. Denison took the envelope out of his briefcase and slid it across the table to Julie. Her attorney intercepted it, opened it, and took out the contents. He read the note attached then looked through the photos one by one. He gave the package to Julie. She looked through the pictures first, then read the note.

"Mr. Mann, these may help in you divorce. The first five were taken at the island three weeks ago. The woman is the wife of his barber. She left her husband to spend the weekend with my husband. The next six were taken at our house last week. I was out of town with my parents. This woman is someone he picked up in a bar. I have no idea if she is married nor do I care. I don't know her name and I doubt that my husband knows, either. She was just another piece of ass; just like your wife." It was signed Cynthia. All of the pictures showed Bradley and the two women either in various stages of undress or in various sexual positions. There was no doubt they were fucking.

Julie slid the photos back across the table, stood, and walked out of the room. I never saw her again until we went to court. We divided everything. She got half of our money, her jewelry, china, silverware, and her clothes. She stayed in our apartment.

Bradley's fall from grace was very quick in the community. His reputation was destroyed and the three sports teams he sponsored deactivated their teams. Cynthia got half of every asset they had, which meant she owned half of the trucking company and their house. He got the island in Canada only because she didn't want it. He sent a bill for the truck driving school to my attorney, accusing me of terminating my employment before completing the terms of our contract. Mr. Denison promptly sent him a letter telling him to kiss our collective asses.

Cynthia called to tell me to ignore the letter and ask me if I was interested in going back to work as the operations manager of the trucking company. I was tempted, but turned her down.

Over the next year or so I found that if I put my mind to it, I could run a pretty nice bead of metal thanks to my father's patience and teaching ability. I also realized that I enjoyed doing it.

I dated but never developed any long-term meaningful relationship, but by the same token, I rarely wanted for pussy because there was lots of it around and available. Once or twice I saw Julie and we always acknowledged each other.

Bradley's trucking business was sold and I never saw Cynthia again, but I did see Bradley occasionally. I knew him, but I'm sure he wouldn't know me from the man in the moon. When I drove for him, I was one of a hundred drivers and he only saw us occasionally.

While learning to weld, I found that I liked working with metal, so in addition to repairing things in the shop and using the truck to repair things onsite, I started making small things like weather vanes, small custom gate hinges, and mail box support stands.

My father and I rarely worked on weekends, but I found myself one Sunday afternoon working on a rather ornate weathervane. I was having trouble with its' proportions so I stared at it hoping a solution would magically appear. I never heard the door open or close, but I felt a presence so I looked up. It was Julie. Neither of us said anything. She stood for a couple of minutes before pulling up a metal stool and sitting.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

"I've got nothing to say."

"Okay. Just listen." She leaned forward. "I don't have a good reason for doing what I did. We, you and I, had a good life. We had enough money, a nice apartment, we loved each other; at least I think we did. So why, all of a sudden, did I decide to sleep with Bradley? The answer is both simple and complicated. I could try to blame you and say you were gone too much, because that's one of the lines he fed me and after a while, I believed it. He also said you weren't treating me right when you were home and after a while, I believed that as well. He said that virtually every truck driver found someone to screw while they were on the road, and after a while, in my mind's eye I could see you fucking some truckstop waitress, or woman truck driver. He also said that truck drivers never made enough money to treat their women the right way, and after a while, I was convinced of that. He was, and probably still is, a smooth talking son of a bitch and I was just as gullible as he was smooth.

"It didn't happen overnight. He worked on me for months. Then Shirley started working on me, telling me how well Bradley could treat me if I let him. She told me she could control your movements so I'd never have to worry about you finding out. She also told me that Mrs. Bradley had told her that she didn't need sex as often as her husband, so she allowed him to sleep with selected women because it made him a better husband for her. She told me that Mrs. Bradley had to approve the women he slept with and that she had approved me just from having seen me when I went to pick up your checks. Those lies sound silly now, but they didn't then. I know that now."

I sat there listening. When I thought she had wound down, I spoke. "Why are you telling me all this now?"

"I don't know. I don't think I ever wanted to tell you at all. Not the truth, anyway. I didn't want you to know how stupid I was. I always thought I'd devise a story that made it all your fault, and I came up with some lulus, but I could never tell you any of them. This afternoon as I drove past your shop, I saw you in here and stopped. I had no idea what I was going to say, only that I was going to say something, if you would let me, but what I said happens to be the truth."

"What did you expect to get out of it?"

"Only that you knew that none of it was your fault. That it was all my own selfish desires and fictional situations he created for me. I also wanted you to know that believe it or not, I never stopped loving you."

"That's where I think you're lying. I don't think you can truly love someone and lie to them or cheat on them. You did both. You even wanted to marry him, if I remember correctly. Are you still fucking him?"

"I can't explain it any better than I already have, and I can't make you believe me, so I won't even try, and no, I'm not seeing him. Not since that day in the attorney's office and I saw those pictures." She sat there for another few minutes watching me work. "I suppose I'd better go." She stood. "Scott?" I looked at her. "Is there any way you can forgive me enough to give me another chance?"

I shook my head. "When I saw him fondling your breasts and running his hand inside you, it was over. You know your way out."

After she left, I didn't accomplish much except to re-affirm my opinion that my former boss was a Grade-A asshole, and my ex-wife was dumber than a box of rocks. I wondered what would have happened had I not gone to that island to surprise my boss. Would I still be driving a truck and getting sloppy seconds? I determined I was happier making weathervanes and going broke.

One day in the mail we received a flyer for a Renaissance Festival. I'd never heard of a Renaissance Festival. It showed pictures of people jousting and knights walking around in armor. There were photos of vendors selling armor, swords, knives, costumes, and everything you would associate with the Renaissance period. It was to be right down the highway in Maryland and I learned from that flyer that Maryland had two state sports; Jousting and Lacrosse. I didn't believe any state had Jousting as its' official sport, so I looked it up and found that it was true.

I decided to go. I spent a full day there and spent most of the time looking at the vendor's wares and watching the attendees. There was a lot of money roaming around those festival grounds and I realized that I could get my share of it. There were several sword and knife makers on site as well as armorers. I liked the suits of armor and shields. I went home, did a lot of research and designed my first shield and sword. I also looked online for a schedule of Renaissance Festivals.

I made five shields and seven swords and took them to the next nearest festival I could find. I learned there were many of them and they were all over the country. I got there a day early so I could talk to some of the vendors. I met one vendor who sold what I thought was the highest quality swords and knives there. I offered him a deal. I would leave what I had to see if it would sell and he would get a commission. He hesitated, but agreed. I was going to spend the night, but no rooms were available anywhere near the festival; a sign of how popular they were, so I drove home. I rarely trusted strangers, but I had no way of selling them myself.

The vendor, Teddy Wycoff, called me Sunday morning to tell me all of my stuff was gone. He would send me a check.

I had a new business.

The next weeks found me making more festival stuff. Teddy wanted ten swords and ten shields for the next festival which was the following week. I managed to have four of each ready.

In the meantime, I was still helping my father with his business. We received a call asking us to repair a driveway gate. It seemed the daughter's date drove into the gates instead of waiting for them to open. Alcohol was involved I was told. I went out and it was a huge gate on a circular driveway. The house behind the gate was enormous. I met the owner, Mr. James Jameson. At first I started to refuse the job because I thought it was too big for us. Those gates were almost ten feet tall.

I decided to give it a try. All it would cost us was some time and a little metal if I screwed it up. I spent a good part of the day trying to figure out what tools I would need then went back to the shop to see what we had that I could use. I found a couple of come-alongs I thought might work, so I headed back the next day. I had been working about two hours and was actually making some progress when a woman about my age brought me some iced tea. Her name was Hannah and she lived there. It was her date who caused the damage. I had my own refreshments, but she came out two times with iced tea and stayed to talk each time.

It took two days of bending, twisting, straightening, and welding, but I fixed the gate. Hannah was there the second day with drinks and a sense of humor. I enjoyed her company.

About the same time, I had taken an interest in suits of armor. They seemed to be popular at the festivals and I was curious as to how to make them, how long it would take, how much it cost to build one, and, finally, could we make a profit from them.

I was dating a woman I met at the library while I was conducting research. We dated at least twice a week and fucked each time we were together. That relationship, like the others I'd had, kinda petered out after a few weeks, however.

In the Mall was a movie theatre. I rarely went to the movies, but one Friday evening, I was so bored, I went. Before the lights went out, Hannah came in with a guy. They sat directly in front of me and his arm immediately went around her. Less than five minutes after the lights went out and the previews of upcoming movies were on, I heard Hannah.

"If you touch me there again, I'll cut your balls off."

His arm came from around her shoulder. She left in a huff followed by her date pleading for her to come back.

I followed them out. I'll give it to her, she didn't take any shit from him. I wasn't close enough to hear, but they were having words. I decided to intervene; something I'd never done before.

"Excuse me, Hannah. Are you okay?"

She looked at me. It took her a couple of seconds to recognize me. "No, I'm not. This asshole has more arms than an octopus and I'm tired of fending him off. Would you mind taking me home?"

"Not at all."

We started walking to my truck when another guy came up to us.

"Are you okay, Hannah?" he asked.

"I am now."

"Would you like me to take you home?" he asked.

She didn't even look at me before she said yes. They headed for his car without so much as a how-do-you-do to me; like I wasn't even there. I stood and watched them walk away. I shook my head and went home.

I was at her house several days later. There were some railings along the walkway between the house and the swimming pool that needed some attention, so Mr. Jameson asked me back. Hannah saw me and came to say hello, but never mentioned the movie incident. I was a bit peeved at having been completely ignored at the movies and wasn't in the mood to chat. She took the hint and left.

I was back the next day with some replacement parts. It was a basic, off the shelf railing so parts were readily available. She was on her way to the pool and stopped to chat. I basically ignored her. I had enjoyed our chats when I was working on the gates, but since the theatre incident ... not so much.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked.

"Do you remember last week at the theatre?" I asked.

"You mean when I was with the octopus?"

"Yes."

"What about it?"

"You asked me to bring you home. Do you remember that?"

"Of course."

"What happened after that?"

"Nothing. Jimmy showed up and brought me home."

"And you saw nothing wrong with that?"

"No. Was there?"

"Not if you didn't see anything I suppose." I picked up a hammer and started hitting metal just to make noise figuring she would go away.

"That doesn't make sense."

"I think it does."

She was getting impatient. "I don't see how."

I looked her square in the eye. "That's the problem." I started hitting metal again. She took the hint and left. It took the rest of the day to finish the railing.

My interest in suits of armor increased and I did a lot of research on how they were made. I built my first suit and was pretty proud of it. I sent a picture of it to Teddy to see what he thought.

"Stick to shields and swords," he said as he laughed. "You're good at those. The armor needs a lot of work before anyone would buy it.

I was in a local bar having a beer and watching a baseball game just a few days later when Hannah sat next to me. I'm meeting friends for drinks. Would you like to join us?" She asked.

"No thank you. I'm fine where I am."

She stood and started to leave but hesitated. She looked at me. "Are you ever going to tell me what I did to piss you off?"

"If I have to tell you, more's the pity. Enjoy your drinks."

I was almost finished with my beer and was getting ready to leave when she came back.

"Oh my God, Scott. I didn't mean to ignore you at the theatre. That octopus had me so pissed I didn't know what I was doing. Please accept my apology." I assumed she said something at her table about our conversation and someone set her straight.

"Apology accepted."

She smiled. "Now will you join us?" She paused. "Please? Just for a drink. I owe you at least that."

I smiled back. "I will. Thank you." They were all drinking and it turned out to be a fun evening. Two of them, I don't remember their names, reminded Hannah over the course of the evening about her manners. I started feeling sorry for her.

The group broke up and we were all leaving. I walked out with Jeannie. I sat next to her at the table. I had asked her about Hannah and she was telling me they had been friends for a long time. "Listen, Scott, I'm not her best friend, but I'm close. There's something about you she likes. She's sorry she treated you like she did, she told me. Hell, she told the whole table, and she told you. You have to give her credit for that. Call her. Do you have her number?"

"No."

"Give me your phone." I did and she put Hannah's number in it. "Call her."

I was working in the shop one morning the following week when Hannah came in. I supposed she got the address from her father.

"Did you have fun the other night?"

"I did. I like your friends."

"That's good, but what about me?"

"What about you?"

"Do you like me? I apologized if you'll remember."

"I remember."

"Then why aren't we friends?" she asked.

I smiled. "I think we're working on it. An apology does not mean automatic friendship. It just means that you understand that you made a mistake, and regret having done whatever it is you did, so you apologize. That person can accept your apology or not. I accepted it but that doesn't mean we are going to be BFF's. It just means I recognize that you understand what you did and regret it ... assuming the apology was sincere."

"It was sincere."

"I agree."

"Good. Then let's go out for dinner." I laughed. "Why not?" she asked. "It will be a good way to work on developing our friendship."

"Okay. When?"

"Why not tonight?"

And so it was. Hannah and I had dinner and our friendship grew. We dated for two months before I saw her naked, but that was only the beginning. She was a natural born fuck machine.

Our relationship flourished and it wasn't long until we wanted to spend all of our time together. She came to the shop just to sit and be close to me and we both relished that time together. I could work and she could read. We never had to talk or interact; just being near each other was all we needed.