Laura and Bill's Story

January 23, 2017

Author's Notes (Don't skip these, they are important, so don't blame the author if you don't like the story :->)):

All characters are over eighteen, fictional and the product of this writer's imagination. Any similarities to real people, or other fictional characters is purely coincidence.

I'm a huge fan of the Loving Wives genre -- in particular unfaithful spouses. Aren't they really just mysteries; or are they really romances gone wrong? Without a doubt, I've most certainly read any story even closely hinting at unfaithfulness within the genre. What I find interesting is the bifurcated camps that readers seem to gravitate towards -- Burn the Bitch/Bastard for revenge fans or Reconciliation at all Costs for softies at heart. It's fascinating to me actually that such polarization occurs. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground, based on the comments I've observed. Not a bad thing, simply an observation. I doubt real life enters into the equation when determining which camp a reader might align, unless of course, they have personally experienced the betrayal of a spouse. For those betrayed readers, my empathy and hope for a reboot into Life 2.0.

However, like anyone else, I love to read fiction, so anyone's reality is always possible. In this story, I wanted to offer a slightly different perspective to the Loving Wives category. While it won't be considered radically different to most, I would like readers to think of the story as the same color as Loving Wives, painted with different shades or contrasting hues. It is neither, BTB or RAAC of that I'm sure, but there are elements of bitterness, animosity and emotions aplenty to go around -- just like real life. But there is the main element of a literal truly loving wife, albeit with her flaws and all, and a very loving husband with his imperfections. Fair warning, since my personal bent is directed firmly towards romance, well you get the idea...maybe that's why it's posted in romance.

I'm a particularly long winded author having been told so. No sense denying it. I'm going to write the entire story and submit it all at once, so I'll apologize in advance if the length is off-putting to some readers. And while sex is discussed, it is not descriptive, or plentiful. Just like real life.

Enjoy the story, comment, vote if you like, rant, and rave if that feels appropriate. But above all else enjoy the fact that you can.

Spyauth

Copyright ©2017 -- All rights reserved.

Introduction

It is a great pleasure to be given the privilege of writing the story of Laura and Bill as told through both their perspectives. Their story, or rather the conclusion of their story, is certainly not unique -- they did live happily ever after. Perhaps their end might not be any more or less than anyone would write for themselves, if given a chance to write their own future. The journey to that end, is what appears to this writer as exceptional. Let's examine the exceptional lives of Laura and Bill.

The Early Years (circa mid-1980's)

Laura

My senior year in College was fraught with challenges which I'll elaborate on later. I managed to maintain my overall GPA of 3.5 upon graduation, but just barely.

I was accepted to Princeton, yet declined, opting to attend UCLA instead. I had grown up all my life attending private schools in New York. Thinking Princeton would be another extension of private school prison, I convinced my parents that if after a year at UCLA, I couldn't show my maturity or grades, I would return to the east and attend a more traditional College one more befitting my parent's heritage. My first year, showed a very respectable 3.85 GPA.

Feeling triumph when I faced my parents during summer break at having mastered the basic curriculum, I pushed my case with them to continue attending the West Coast school. They reluctantly agreed, as I had fulfilled the minimal parameters of our agreement. They acquiesced but weren't happy. I was overjoyed. I was learning while flexing my wings of independence.

My mother, ever the practical, devious one, tried luring me with shopping trips to New York City, along with other social engagements de rigueur in her circle. I politely declined, showing my naiveté in the process. What better place to enjoy the finer things of life, then within a protected cocoon of money? Youth is truly wasted on the young.

Returning my sophomore year, I realized I had missed out on some of the freshman antics, as my father referred to them. I never felt the need to act out, per se, during my freshman year, as I'm sure my mother and father believed was the case. I vowed to rectify the situation this year. I hadn't planned to go completely crazy as my roommate Sheila liked to do without fail every weekend, and often three nights during the week, but closing in on twenty, it was time to have some fun.

Sheila was always popular with the boys, no doubt for putting out more than I felt comfortable doing. Not that I was a prude, as I wasn't a virgin by that time. I just never felt comfortable jumping from bed to bed to either be popular by College standards, or the life of the party by social norms. I was more selective in my partners, as well as more reserved overall.

I had had a steady boyfriend during my senior year in High school, to whom I lost my virginity on prom night. I suspect my mother knew, or at least had a strong premonition. My father was, as usual, clueless about such things.

After starting classes my sophomore year, I decided to change my bookish look to something more stylish in tune with the eighties. At the time, I looked like a younger version of Linda Gray on the TV show Dallas, so I thought styling my hair like her, might be the way to stand out and fit in at the same time. All the rage at the time was 'big hair', the kind that took hours to achieve. I didn't want to encumber my daily routine with that much effort, instead opting for more of a straight look with dirty blonde bangs and shoulder length hair. I brushed it to one side or the other, depending upon my mood. It worked for me at the time, pairing my new hairstyle with my light brown eyes, made me feel alluring.

The male species, definitely took notice. It seemed I was fighting off suitors left and right, in and out of the classroom. In fact a few of my more progressive professors felt I needed extracurricular help which they gladly offered in their offices after class. I turned all of them down gracefully. I was after all, raised as a lady, and as such appreciated their attention, but felt compelled to pick and choose my companions as I saw fit.

About half way through the semester of my sophomore year, I met a gentleman, named Warren Blaylock. He seemed nice enough if not a little stand-offish at the time. He didn't seem quite as smitten with me or my looks as the rest of the crowd -- professors included. There was something a little mysterious about Warren that intrigued me if I were honest with myself. I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

Warren was in my Psychology 201 class which met Tuesdays and Thursdays. I had aced Psychology 101. I enrolled in this class thinking it would be any easy 'A' to help me maintain my GPA.

My parents had expected I would declare a pre-med major mid-way through the year. I was on the fence between medicine and law. Thinking I could go either way, the Psychology course seemed a good fit.

Warren was intelligent in his questions during class and even after, when I 'accidently' bumped into him dropping my books for him to collect. Of course he apologized for being clumsy, which I demurely dismissed. In his own way of apology, he invited me to coffee at the student union.

Of course I accepted, as that had been my plan all along. Thankfully, Warren got with the program after our slightly embarrassing approach. We walked to the student union talking about our respective majors, professors, student life, and other benign topics.

The conversation over coffee, seemed relatively effortless on my part, but then, we weren't talking about Détente, merely his impoverished college student lifestyle. I came to find out that Warren was poor. Not that being poor is a death sentence or in any way wrong, it's just that for almost twenty years, my baseline had been the very rich. To find that there were people that had to work for a living, was quite frankly a little shocking to me at the time. Looking back, I can see how ignorant I was of the ways of the world.

Before the cries of spoiled little rich girl come flying over my 5'6" head, remember, I led a very sheltered life going to private school complete with nannies, maids, butlers and chauffeurs, all my life. My first year of college was actually spent studying, as opposed to partying like most other normal college freshman. So yes, the money was a given -- I was spoiled by it to a degree -- yet I thought I remained relatively grounded in my goals seeking my undergraduate degree in spite of it.

I could tell Warren was interested, well maybe a little anyway, or so I hoped. I was. He was tall, certainly over six feet, trim, although I couldn't guess his weight, and seemed well put together with blue eyes and relatively short blonde hair. Warren said he didn't have time for sports since he had to work at either waiting on tables at a local restaurant or tending bar at one of the local sports bars most every evening.

The one thing that really did perplex me was his dream as he called it, of becoming wealthy. I suppose I seemed dismissive after living a life of it, but for someone that had none of it, the dream did make some sense. He seemed driven to move into computers which in the mid-eighties were beginning to permeate the fabric of society.

When we had finished our coffee, Warren didn't offer to walk me back to my apartment I shared with my roommate Sheila, nor did he ask me to a more formal date. I wasn't actually offended, just more intrigued as to why my charms seemed to have no effect on him. I took it as a personal challenge to garner his interest in me. At least enough for a second 'date.'

When I got back to my apartment, surprised to see Sheila, I started a conversation with her about Warren. I suppose given Sheila's background, which we were both well aware of, it seemed obvious why I was asking.

"Sheila, is there something wrong me today? I mean, do I look OK to you?"

"No hon, you look fine, why do you ask?"

Sheila, was very casual, being from Georgia. Her accent dripped like sweet southern honey. Perhaps that was one of her charms that endeared herself to all the males on campus.

"I just had coffee with a guy from my Psych class. It was like he was there but wasn't really interested in me."

"You mean you found the one guy out of this whole campus that doesn't have a crush on you?" Sheila laughed hard. "Way to pick-em' Laura." The laughing continued until she was bent over. I was getting a little perturbed. This was becoming a confidence buster I thought.

"I don't know about that, but Warren seems different and not just because he wasn't falling all over himself to get in my panties."

"Maybe he's gay, girl. Ever think about that?"

That shocked me. I hadn't considered that. But then, being openly gay in the eighties was a relatively new thing as far as mainstream lifestyle was concerned. I suppose it was possible he preferred guys, but I didn't think so. Not that I have any type of 'gaydar' as it was sometimes referred. He just didn't give off the vibe that said, I really prefer guys. No something else was in play here. I felt sure of it.

"Well no, I hadn't considered him being gay, but I didn't get that sense. Any other ideas?" I queried, really clutching at straws, since I had never been spurned before quite like that. It was all polite, but clearly not the reaction I was expecting or hoping I would receive from Warren.

"Look Laura, if what you're really looking for from me is an ego boost, because you got your panties in a bunch, over some guy you just met, I'll give it to you sugar. If I'm considered a 7 or 8 out of ten, then you are a definite 11. Don't worry sweetie, maybe he's just not into you. It's OK you know. Hell girl, I would do you myself if either of us went that way."

I knew she was kidding with her last remark. We both knew neither of us was wired that way. "I guess it's possible. It just never happened before, you know?"

Sheila got more serious, "Relax, Laura, there are over thirty thousand students in this university, quite a few guys actually, or so I'm told." She started giggling before continuing, "I'm sure you can find one guy that's willing to date you. Don't over-think this. Just move on. Okay?"

"Yea sure. I guess you're right." I let the conversation drop with Sheila, but I couldn't let it go in my mind.

Classes and life continued for the rest of the semester. I smiled coyly at Warren in Psych class, trying my best to sit close to him without being too obvious about it. He returned my smiles, but never struck up a conversation for the rest of the semester.

Finally after the final exams, with blue books closed and turned in at the lectern, I needed some answers before I went home for the Christmas holidays.

"Warren, have a minute? Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" I opened my eyes wide in doe like anticipation as coquettishly as I thought allowable, hoping he would accept my heartfelt offer.

"I have one more exam in about two hours, but I guess I could spare a little time for coffee." He finally replied after thoughtful consideration and checking his watch.

There it was again I thought. Damn. What did I have to do to get this guy's attention?

Warren continued to ponder, "Actually, the student union is on my way to the next exam, so yea, let's go. Laura right?"

Damn, he was asking to clarify my name. I mean come on? I was getting a serious complex at this point. I was clearly thrown off my game, but determined to understand this reverse infatuation with me. I had brushed my teeth this morning. My hair was combed invitingly. I was dressed in snug fitting jeans and a nice blue silk top, with conservative two inch sandals. I had even applied a small amount of makeup to highlight my eyes, and blush on my cheeks along with light lip gloss. I was far from gross.

I rocked back on my heels a little replying condescendingly, "Yes, it's Laura and thanks for remembering."

We walked to the student union talking about the Psych exam. I wanted to wait until we had our coffee to start my inquisition.

Over coffee, I was almost bursting to start asking questions. I remembered his asking to clarify my name which set me in a sour mood again. I just blurted out perhaps a little too loudly, "Are you gay?"

He immediately looked up from his coffee, all around us to the other tables of onlookers staring at as, then burst into the deepest laugh I had heard from anyone which continued for a good fifteen seconds before he responded, "No, just not quite as dumb as I look."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Laura, believe it or not, I know why you're asking. At least I think I do, now that I think about it."

"Please continue, because I'm still not sure it makes sense to me."

"Look, let's net this out. You want to know why I haven't noticed you, talked to you, asked you on a date, or tried to jump your bones. Right?"

I had the deer in the headlights look for sure when I said, "Yea I guess that about sums it up."

"Elementary my dear Watson," he replied imitating his best Sherlock Holmes, "You are smart, so I'm sure you'll figure this out, but you are too beautiful and too rich."

Now my back was really up. In a lowered whisper that only Warren could hear I said, "What the fuck, is THAT supposed mean?"

"Sorry, I guess I thought it was obvious. Let me break it down. Surely you must know you are an extremely attractive woman." He paused for effect allowing me to absorb his statement, "For you to ask if I'm gay, says you can't handle not being desired, chased, or pursued. Right?"

"Yes." I responded flatly. So far, he seemed to be reading my mind which was a little scary.

"And you are rich right? I mean you don't work. At least it didn't come up in conversation during coffee last time, which means either you have a trust fund, or mommy and daddy have plenty of money to keep you in that outfit that probably costs, more than I'll make in a week."

"My parents have money. So you think I'm attractive, yet you haven't even so much as offered to speak to me the rest of the semester after I purposely ran into you?"

I know I had tipped my hand more than I wanted, but I needed him to see I was definitely interested in him. As if he didn't already know. I was starting to sound like a lovesick adolescent.

"Well thanks for clearing that up. I really thought I took a clumsy pill that day, when you dropped your books after barely brushing by me."

His smug attitude about me had really started to annoy me. Who was this 'poor' college student to practically insult me with the truth about my wealth, then have the audacity to pay me a back-handed compliment about my looks? Infuriating. Exasperating. I suppose he put me in my place thinking about it now. No one had ever talked to me like that before. Especially someone that didn't know me.

"Look. I really do think you're beautiful. There are thousands of guys that would give their right arm to be seen with you. You're the total package -- looks, money, smarts. But for now, I need to finish my education. I told you last time we had coffee, my goal is to get past my poverty status. School is the major stepping stone towards that goal. Anything that takes me away from that, isn't something I'm interested in right now."

I shot back quickly, "So you're saying you're interested, just not right now. If I heard you right?" I was trying to salvage some of my dignity.

He snickered a little perhaps deciding to throw me a bone, "I suppose you could draw that conclusion. Look, I wouldn't rule anything out in the future, but right now all I can see, is my next final. In fact, I need to get to it. Laura, thanks for the coffee. I'll see you next semester."

As he left, I realized he had given me a lot to think about. He also inadvertently helped me choose my major. I was heading into law. Instead of four years after College for med-school, I thought I could finish law school in two if I really buckled down. I needed to get out from under 'mommy and daddy' as soon as possible. I had some growing up to do.

Warren was never far from my thoughts the rest of sophomore and junior year, although our paths didn't cross. I was taking history, philosophy, and liberal arts, while I guessed Warren was taking math and computer science. At least I told myself he wasn't trying to avoid me. Yes, I couldn't quite get over, that I hadn't been able to rock his world with my very presence. It still stuck in my craw.

As I was wrapping up my junior year I started to ask myself again, why it bothered me so much that Warren hadn't bent to do my bidding. He seemed to be the first person or situation I couldn't control. But there was more to it than that. Of that I was sure. With all my debating skills honed through classroom work, as well being on the debate team, I was asking myself introspective questions one Saturday night over wine in my now single apartment. Sheila couldn't hack the coursework, and dropped out to finish a two year associate's degree at a local community college in the area. We remained friends. I sure could have used her down home wisdom as my debate partner tonight.

Did I feel something more for Warren than I was willing to admit to myself? Surely this couldn't be love I thought. I had never been in more than infatuation or lust over a Saturday night date in my life. I too was focused on school, to get out on my own, right after law school. I had learned a few things which made me feel better about myself. I was just as attractive as Warren eluded in our last conversation. I had no trouble finding social partners for any event or even casual relations if I needed relief.