Ice Heart Ch. 01

*Disclaimer: Any persons engaging in any sexual activity are eighteen years of age or older.

Chapter 1

Cris Dumas was completely unprepared for Ann Marie's haughty announcement that 'while she still loved him, she just wasn't IN love with him.'

"I think we need some time apart," she declared. "You know? Just a little space. Why don't you move into the guest room and..."

Eighteen, nearly nineteen years of marriage, wiped out with that simple statement.

Numbly, he agreed to try the new living arrangement. After all, she assured him, it was only for a short while, then they'd talk and see where they wanted to go from there.

"And he eats pussy like you wouldn't believe...." He overheard her giggling into her cell phone.

So, not only was she 'not in love with him,' but she already had another lover.

Angrily he packed everything and, instead of moving into the guest bedroom, stormed out of the four bedrooms, three bathroom house and slammed the door.

"I swear to God, if I've told him once, 'don't slam the damned door,' but you know how men are, they never listen," Ann Marie laughed to her college friend, Vickie Mouton. "Wonder where he's going?"

****

EconoLodge on Pinhook rented rooms by the night, or by the week. Cris booked the room for one week, took the key and let himself into the dingy, smelly room. Obviously the last occupant had been a heavy smoker; the smell of cigarettes was thick, hanging in the air.

"Jim, hey, this is Cris," he said wearily. "Cris Dumas from the DeGarde office?"

"I know who it is, you dumb coon ass," Jim Miller, the head of PPEDI's legal department laughed. "What you got?"

Why had he left? He was the sole breadwinner for the years they'd been married. It was his house; she'd never made one payment on the mortgage.

And he hated the monstrosity of a house. Four bedrooms; there were only three people living there. For the seven years they'd lived there, one bedroom had been empty. Ann Marie used the closet in that room, as well as the closet in the guest bedroom. They had a guest bedroom, but Cris couldn't say when they'd ever had an overnight guest. But Ann Marie had wanted the house so they bought the house.

The yard took hours of work and Cris was often exhausted afterward, but refused to hire a yard man. It wouldn't have taken so long if there had been just a yard, maybe a couple of trees, but there were several little 'areas' in the yard, a clump of shrubs here, a patch of flowers there, an ornamental statue in the corner. All of this made it impossible to use a riding lawnmower, so Cris had to grunt and groan and sweat and push a regular lawn mower. Ann Marie and Nicole could be counted on to not help at all; the only time either one of them wanted to sweat was when it involved an activity THEY were interested in, mainly at the country club.

"Actually, Cris, this is beautiful," Jim laughed lightly. "You pay all the bills? Charge her rent until the divorce; you ARE going to file for a divorce, right?"

Cris felt a large weight settle in the pit of his flabby stomach. He had not even thought of divorce.

Looking in the dingy, smeared mirror of the motel's poorly lighted bathroom, he didn't like what he saw.

He used to be a muscular young man with a healthy tan and wide smiles. He used to have a full head of brown hair and lively brown eyes. When had he become a flabby, balding, ashen-faced old man? He was only forty years old; Ann Marie had thrown him a huge birthday party filled with all of their friends. All of HER friends; he didn't think a single one of those people in their back yard gave a hoot about him. Except for Sweet William and Sandra; and he had to remind Ann Marie to invite them.

He wondered if she had already been cheating on him with Mr. Pussy Eater at that time, if Mr. Pussy Eater had been at their party.

He wondered if their daughter missed him, if Nicole was asking her mother where Daddy was.

Probably not, he sighed. Somewhere around the same time that he'd slipped into being the unattractive blob he saw in the mirror, she slipped from adoring her Daddy to tolerating him. As long as he paid the car note and insurance and the West Bayou Country Club dues and tennis lessons, Nicole tolerated him.

He wondered if Hank and Sophia Campion, his in-laws were celebrating. It had taken nineteen years, nineteen years of barely concealed disdain to drag their precious little girl out of his loving embrace. They had money; he had to work for every dime he had. And Ann Marie spent every dime too.

The mattress reeked of cigarette smoke, as did the pillows. He sighed heavily; he'd forgotten to take his toupee off.

He got out of bed, found the stand for it and carefully worked it loose, then put in on the stand and then got back into bed.

Sleep did not come. He lay in bed imagining his beautiful wife naked, an unknown man's head between her legs. He imagined his beautiful wife taking another man's erection into her mouth, something she had been quite good at before Mikey's death.

When Mikey didn't wake up that morning that was the beginning of the end for him. Ann Marie had been absolutely devastated when the infant did not respond to her screams. Four year old Nicole stood in the doorway and sobbed over the loss of her baby brother.

After that, they rarely made love any more and Ann Marie insisted on condoms, unwilling to risk pregnancy again, unwilling to risk losing another baby to SIDS.

"That's when it happened," he said aloud. "That's when I got lost."

He looked at the bedside clock. Ten forty one.

"But it changes now," he decided. "Ten forty one, I'm going to change my life."

Chapter 2

She rolled over languidly. Last night had been the first time in several years she had slept alone and it felt great. She had never noticed before how badly Cris snored, how much he tossed and turned before the intolerable snoring began, and how much he passed gas while in their bed.

"Where's Daddy?" Nicole petulantly asked at the breakfast table.

"Work, why?" Ann Marie asked.

"'Cause!" Nicole stomped her foot. "I need to pay Cindy!"

Cindy was Nicole's tennis coach.

"Well, call him at the office; I'm sure he just forgot," Ann Marie said lightly. "Oops, Momma's got an appointment, running late."

****

Waking up wasn't that hard for him; he'd not fallen asleep.

Showering in the motel bathroom was a dismal effort; the water was lukewarm and barely dribbled out of the rusted faucet. The cheap shampoo and conditioner provided by the motel, along with the harsh soap left him feeling like he needed another shower.

The cheap iron provided by the motel looked dubious at best; he decided on a shirt that did not look too badly wrinkled and dressed for the day ahead.

Jim had told him what to do and that was going to get his full attention today.

****

Tom Sampo. Just the name sounded good, masculine. Ann Marie smiled as Tom Teed off and drove the ball two hundred and seventy yards down the fairway.

That's how they met; Daddy and Momma and she had wanted to play eighteen holes but it just wasn't much fun as a threesome. Mr. Trapani, Daddy's friend and financial backer had called them at the last minute, saying he couldn't make it.

"Be happy to join y'all," he smiled and stuck out his hand to Hank. "Tom. Tom Sampo."

The men shared a cart but Tom still found ways to touch Ann Marie when they were standing around. At first she thought it might have just been accidental, but he smiled his wicked little smile at her, causing her to blush.

At the nineteenth hole he touched her often, 'innocent' little touches, nothing inappropriate.

"So, Tom, you're in investments?" Hank asked as the liquor flowed.

"Yep, it's the fool that works for his money rather than making his money work for him," Tom smiled and launched into a detailed explanation of what venture investments he was orchestrating.

"Hope I see a lot more of you," he whispered in her ear as they prepared to leave.

****

The next time she saw him at the country club he wasted no time and soon she was in his Mercedes, driving to his house in Church Point. She was suitably impressed with his two hundred year old home and even more impressed with the Louis the Fourteenth bedroom suite on the second floor.

"No, no, this is all for you," he whispered in her ear as she cupped his heavy balls in her small hand.

"Oh my God!" she screamed as he tongue fucked her pussy to orgasm, then continued to lick and suck her juices from her slit.

"No more, no more," she weakly begged as he pummeled her clitoris with his tongue.

"Ah!" she gasped out as he wormed his so very talented tongue into her anus then pumped it in and out of her back door.

"Oh yeah," he crooned as she worked his fat cock into her mouth and down her throat.

"Like riding a bicycle," she though to herself. "Been a while since I sucked Cris' dick, but you never forget how."

She did feel a pang of guilt when she saw Nicole's car at the club, but the guilt went away when Tom crooned more loving words into her ear.

Most of the men at the West Bayou Country Club respected the fact that she was married to some unseen husband and refrained from making advances. The others refrained because she was Hank Campion's daughter.

When she asked Tom about that, he shrugged and smiled his wicked little smile.

"I saw something I wanted," he said. "When I see something I want, I go after it and don't give up until I get it."

Again, she had pangs of guilt when she looked at her tired husband across the dinner table. She'd never cheated on him before. Of course she'd been tempted, but had never pursued it.

The pangs eased as she listened to yet another boring litany of complaints from her husband; his job was hard, the bills were high, the yard needed more work.

****

Cris smiled wearily as Sandra brought him another cup of coffee.

"Caffeine's bad for your prostrate," she murmured.

"How you know; you got one?" he asked, his stock response whenever she said that.

"Did, before the operation," she teased and left the office.

A few more clicks and Cris finished canceling the last of the credit cards.

"Yeah, it sucks, but even though you're the only one working, she's still entitled to fifty percent of everything," Jim had said.

The country club hemmed and hawed until Cris reminded them that his father in law was Hank Campion, then agreed to refund the remainder of his dues.

"That little son of a bitch," Hank snapped when Tim Velleaux, the President of the country club called to inform him of the cancellation.

"I am sure Mrs. Dumas and Nicole would be interested in continuing their memberships?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, yeah, just call Ann Marie," Hank said.

Ann Marie was highly embarrassed when the manager called her Cell phone, right in front of Tom. The waitress brought them their screwdrivers and Tom smiled at her and signed the voucher.

"Honey, just have to call him, straightens something out," she said lightly and hit Cris' office on the speed dial.

"Did you really cancel our membership?" she hissed into the mouthpiece, turning slightly away from Tom.

"Saw no reason to continue," he said easily. "I don't use it, I don't see why I should have to pay for it. You want to use it, you pay for it. Or get your daddy to pay for it."

"But what about Nicole?" she hissed into the phone.

"Hey you know what?" Cris asked. "She's a student; she can go under your membership."

"You are going to pay for this," she spat into the telephone and was even more outraged when he laughed at her and hung up on her.

Sandra looked in at her boss when she heard him sobbing. Softly, she walked in and put her hand on his shaking shoulder, then held him as he clung to her waist and sobbed openly.

****

"Hey beautiful, there a problem?" Tom asked as a pale faced Ann Marie stood at the registration table.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dumas," the older woman politely said as her American Express card was rejected.

"Really, I don't understand," Ann Marie stammered.

"Put her and her, Nicole, right? Your daughter, Nicole? Put Mrs. Dumas and Nicole on my application," Tom magnanimously said.

"Damn it," Ann Marie said as she remembered that Cindy had to be paid as well. "Can I write you a check for Cindy's fees?"

"Um, yes ma'am," the older woman cautiously agreed. "There is a thirty five dollar NSF charge for checks that come back."

"There's money in the account," Ann Marie said through clenched teeth.

There was half of what money had been there at ten forty one the night before.

The certificates of deposit had been in his name only, with Ann Marie as beneficiary, so it was no trouble to switch Nicole's name for Ann Marie's name on those.

"I'm sorry," the manager smiled tightly as Cris finished up the transactions.

Cris looked at the man and saw that the man had a pretty good idea of what was happening. He'd seen it before.

"Thanks," Cris smiled wearily. "Just found out yesterday; being traded in."

"Where would you like your statements sent?" the manager asked. "Are you still residing at..."

Cris gave the man his office address and smiled in gratitude. He'd not thought of that and wondered what other information he would have to retrace.

****

"Oh, you're a bad boy," Ann Marie groaned as Tom lapped persistently at her anus.

"Uh huh, going to be even badder when I stick Mr. Happy up there," Tom smiled and raised himself up slightly to feast on her hairy pussy.

"Uh uh!" Ann Marie laughed out loud. "You are not sticking anything up there!"

He wormed his way up to her large breasts and tongued her small nipples avidly before finally kissing her mouth.

"Mmph!" she groaned as he sank his cock into her pussy.

"Yep, going to stick my cock in your hot little ass, stretch your little hole all out of shape," he whispered in her ear as he slowly worked his cock in and out of her.

"No," she moaned. "It'll hurt!"

"Yeah it will," he promised. "And you're going to love it."

"No," she protested weakly as he pushed his cock into her and held it.

"Ah!" she screamed out as she orgasmed.

"And if you get your poop on it, I'll probably wipe it off on your panties," he suggested.

"Shut up!" she laughed. "That's so nasty!"

Too late she remembered that she wasn't on any birth control, but then laughed through her orgasm; it would really service Cris right if she got pregnant.

****

"Boss man, you look like shit," Sweet William said, sticking his head into Cris' office. "I mean, more than you usually do."

"Yeah, well, found out my marriage is over," Cris admitted.

Sweet William was a large black man, six foot eight, close to three hundred and forty pounds. He was an imposing figure; few would suspect he was a loving and loyal friend.

"Aw, man, no shit?" Sweet William asked. "Boss man, I'm real sorry to hear that; Ann Marie was a real sweetie pie."

"Yeah, well, she found someone else to be all sweetie pie with," Cris admitted.

"Want me to go have me a talk with him?" Sweet William asked.

"As much fun as that sounds, no, no, going to just let the lawyers have at it," Cris shrugged.

"So you going to be hitting the clubs, huh?" Sweet William smiled, trying to make light of the situation.

"Yeah, thank the babes be all up in my shit?" Cris asked, playing along.

Sweet William laughed.

"Man, don't be trying to talk all ghetto; you too damned white for that shit," Sweet William laughed. "But yeah, I can see the babes all up in your shit. When you lose that rug; mother fucker ain't fooling nobody. Oh, and get you some new threads; them you got on look like Goodwill don't want them neither."

"What?" Cris asked, surprised.

"Lose the hairpiece, get some new clothes, forgot you super-white, got to translate everything for you," Sweet William said.

"Wait, what's wrong with the clothes I got?" Cris asked.

"Nothing man, if you eighty, them clothes look good down at the retirement home," Sweet William said. "Man, I ain't telling you you got to go all out, but at least try to get something new, you know?"

"Sandra, get in here," Cris called out.

"Yeah?" Sandra asked, giving Sweet William an affectionate, playful nudge with her hip as she walked past him.

"This rough neck says I need some new clothes," Cris said.

"And told him lose the piece too," Sweet William said.

"Yeah? And?" Sandra asked.

"Huh," Cris said. "You think I need some new clothes too?"

"And lose the..." Sweet William said.

"Shut up, Sweet William," Cris said.

"And lose the hairpiece," Sandra echoed. "Looks like crap."

****

Am Marie was indignant when she hung up the telephone. The bank had verified that , yes, there was enough money to cover Nicole's tennis lesson, but not much more than that.

"That just can't be right," she fumed and stomped upstairs to dig out last month's bank statement.

The closet door was ajar; she'd not closed it after she'd dressed that morning. She flung it open to get into the file cabinet where Cris kept all of their important documents; he was so anal about everything.

It was empty.

She looked at the miniscule area she afforded him in their bedroom closet and noticed, for the first time, all of his clothes were gone.

She flung open the one drawer she let him have in their dresser and saw that it was empty.

Marching down the hall, she flung open the door to the guest bedroom. The bed had not been disturbed. She looked in the drawers. Her sweaters that she didn't like any longer were in the top drawer; the jeans that didn't fit her any longer were in the next two drawers; her swimsuits were in the bottom drawer. The closet held more of her clothes, but there were none of his clothes.

She sat down on the bed, hard. He wasn't supposed to leave. He was just supposed to leave their bedroom so she didn't have to feel guilty whenever she looked at him.

Several moments passed before she moved again. She went downstairs and dug her cell phone out of her purse. She almost laughed when she noticed how badly her hands were shaking.

****

Cris, my man, hope you're sitting down," Jim said sadly.

"Sitting, all I ever do," Cris said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Pictures, times, got her boyfriend's address; he's renting a house out in Church Point," Jim said quietly. "They weren't being very discrete about it. Lynne said it was the easiest job she's ever done; they damned near posed for the pictures."

"Well, we already knew all of that, huh?" Cris asked.

"Yeah, but the judge is going to want proof, not just something you overheard her saying," Jim said.

"So file already," Cris said.

"I can file, but I can't represent you; Louisiana's on the Napoleonic code and I don't have a license to practice in Louisiana," Jim said. "But I'm e-mailing you a list of lawyers, in fact three of them practice right there in Lafayette. Best one is Jennifer LaCombe, mean as a snake."

"Thanks," Cris said.

Moments later, the inside line rang, bypassing Sandra.

"Cris, Honey?" Ann Marie asked.

"Yes, Ann Marie, Honey?" Cris asked, trying to will his voice to stop shaking.

The rage was building up inside of him; they hadn't even bothered to be discrete about the affair. If he was a betting man, he'd bet it was at the country club.

And right in front of his, their daughter.

Ann Marie could hear the anger in his voice.

"He knows," she thought to herself.

"Um, Honey, I thought you were going to um, you know, um sleep in the guest bedroom, until we could talk?" she asked.

"No, but hey, here's a great idea, why don't you have your boyfriend move in?" Cris asked. "I'm sure he'd love the guest room."

"Boyfriend?" An Marie bluffed, laughing nervously. "What boyfriend?"

"The one we got pictures of, you and him making out," Cris lied (He'd not seen any of the pictures.) "Oh, and that's a nice shot of his head between your legs; bet he's a great pussy eater, the look on your face says it all."