My Late Wife

My Late Wife

My name is William Preston Carstens. I am fifty eight years old and for the last two years I have been a widower. My wife, Janet Anderson Carstens died leaving a mystery that I have been attempting to unravel.

The basics of my life are fairly simple. I was born, raised and educated in the Chicago suburbs. My parents were professional people who lived quiet and respectable lives and raised four children who followed in their footsteps. I was the youngest of the family. My sibs had all chosen careers in white collar professions and I was no exception ending up as a CPA and Tax Attorney.

While not necessarily an academic and career path noted for romance and excitement, I did manage to become involved in and then move on from three serious romantic relationships by the age of twenty six. By that point I was established as a soon to be senior associate in a prestigious Loop tax accounting firm. It was at my firm that I met the woman who was to become my wife, Janet Anderson.

Much of the work of our firm involved litigation in the County, State and Federal Courts. Litigation involves sworn depositions and sworn depositions require court reporter qualified stenographers to keep verbatim records of legal proceedings. Firms that only handle a few depositions per year employ contract stenographers on a free lance or agency basis. Firms like ours who are doing multiple depositions every day have contract stenographers on premises full time as if they were permanent staff. Janet was the latest edition to this group.

As the Associate charged with many of the more routine depositions, I ending up working with all of the support staff but I found myself drawn to the new employee from day one. Janet was of medium height and wore her brunette hair back in a modest bun like most of the female staff. Plain garb and sensible shoes were mandatory but nothing could conceal Janet's basic beauty and personality. In the first month that she worked for us I probably hadn't exchanged 25 words with her so when I got up my courage to ask her out I was surprised when she said.

"Of course Mr. Carstens. I thought you would ask me out for last weekend but this Saturday will also be fine. How about 7:OO o'clock and what shall I wear?"

"Its William or Bill after work hours and 7 is a little late because I have tickets for the Symphony at 7:30. As far as dress goes, the night crowd is usually garbed a level or two above business casual but on you just about anything will look fine. After the performance we can pick up a bite and perhaps a drink?"

When I picked her up at 6:30 I was met at the door by her father who in two minutes extracted my lineage back to the Mayflower and determined that he knew both my father and one sibling and was welcome to date his daughter. On the cab ride to the performance Janet said.

"You handled Daddy quite well. He can be overbearing but his heart is in the right place and now that he's got your lineage he'll leave you alone. Mom will be working on me to pick our Bridesmaid's colors but that's my problem."

"Wow you guys work fast. We haven't even had our first kiss yet."

"Well, I'm wearing smear proof lipstick."

Our first kiss was fresh, minty and with just a hint of tongue and invited several followup kisses.

"Nice first kiss Janet."

"Even better second and third William."

We held hands for most of the symphony and had a delightful snack and drinks after at a quiet neighborhood bistro. Over the course of the evening we established that she had a night school degree from Northwestern in English and a Steno associate from a junior college. Living with Mom and Dad was only till she built up enough assets to afford the security deposit on an apartment.

When I took her home we made out on the Family Room couch and determined that there was definite interest in a Zoo date for Sunday afternoon. By week three we had determined that my efficiency apartment Murphy Bed was uncomfortable but still appropriate for the next stage of the Bill and Jan saga.

In the office, Miss Anderson was a prim, proper and professional stenographer. In private she was the sex goddess and the lover of my dreams and I knew, the future mother of my children. Neither of us were apparent innocents sexually and together we had a chemistry that was mind blowing. By month two we were in a two bedroom apartment together and by month six we were walking down the aisle.

Demure little Janet was the most incredibly and sexy human I had ever met or hoped to meet. I had never thought of myself as a highly sexed individual or as some sort of great lover. However with Jan I became the Incredible Hulk of the bedroom. Maybe she was feeding me some secret potion or something but the intensity and frequency of my orgasms shot through the ceiling and stayed there.

Throughout our courtship and the first years of our marriage we kept a chart of the frequency of our intercourse. Out of a twenty eight day cycle we had sex on the average of twice a day for at least twenty one of those days. That works out to over five hundred encounters a year. Not bad for a tax accountant and a stenographer who looks like a librarian in the office.

Eventually our frequency slowed down a bit with the addition of three children to our family unit. Childhood changed her participation in the workforce but never totally ended her part time occupation as a stenographer. Even through pregnancies and early child rearing she took occasional assignments as a free lance stenographer for remote depositions. Upon reflection I don't think there ever was a year in which she didn't have at least five thousand of so in contributions to the family income and her retirement program. Once the kids were all day school she returned to almost a full time schedule.

Her income came in very handy as the kids got older and college loomed over the family. I was making really good money and so was Janet and it was a good thing because our three kids were very bright and even with scholarships and kids part time jobs we could be faced with massive tuition bills. However, with all of us busting our asses we made it through just fine.

The period of our lives after the kids left for college and then formed families of their own was different yet fulfilling for Janet and I. For one thing it was a time for us to renew our physical sexual relationship. In essence our openly sexual behavior of the pre children years could now be rekindled around the home. For instance Jan's Mom jeans were replaced by short shorts, mini skirts and frequently no underwear. Sweatshirts were replaced by tight tees, wife beaters, halter tops and always, no bras.

The other and most liberating thing was that the physical location of the act of love was no longer confined to the marital bedroom and was now fully sanctioned everywhere on our property. I was personally astounded that two late 40's parents of three would be and were fucking like billy goats. Frankly I don't know where we were getting it all from especially when I did a little simple math and found that we were back to our pre children intercourse rate. In fact, when Jan started to go through early onset menopause we picked up the rate because of shorter or absent periods. That was ironic because many of our friends complained of a reduction in sexual interest but with Jan it was the opposite.

So, here we were in our mid fifties, financially secure, content in our jobs, grandparents at last and still fucking up a storm. In fact it was because of an even greater than normal surge in Jan's libido that she raised the issue with her gynecologist. That led to a few additional tests and then a few more and then the awful news, several virulent strains of inoperable cancer. Bizarrely something in the cancer stimulated part in her brain that hyper stimulated her sex drive. Her stimulation carried over onto me and so we found ourselves wildly fucking almost right up to her death.

At age fifty six I found myself a loverless widower. My beautiful sexy wife of thirty years was dead and I was all alone. Of course our children and grandchildren were some solace but nothing could replace the companionship, friendship and especially the sexuality of my wife.

Prior to Jan's death we had discussed retirement and the final phases of our life together. Money wasn't an issue because in recent years I had written and sold several tax preparation software packages. The royalties on these were nominal but I had invested the 940 thousand of after tax profits into the stock market. After dodging the two major crashes of the last decades I now had a portfolio that would sustain comfortable early retirement. Our plan had been to establish a six month base in Northern Wisconsin and a mirror base in a warmer location either in the south or south west. Now all my/our plans were in limbo.

Grief is a difficult emotion to categorize or define because it manifests itself in so very many ways. Initially I was just sort of numb and went through the period after Jan died in a sort of trance. The funeral and return to work were the same until one day my daughter called me and asked what I had done with Moms things. Nothing was my answer and her response was that she would come over at 9:00 on Saturday.

What my daughter Sally discovered was that I had been sleeping in my den on the couch and hadn't touched Janet's clothes. Once Sally and I started going through Janet's things I realized that I didn't want my daughter seeing certain things and so I put her off for a week so I could preview the contents. I'm glad I did because some of the things I found not only changed the balance of my life but forever changed my perception of wife Janet.

Our current suburban home was one of those McMansions with a large Master Suite, a guest/oldest kid bedroom with hall bath and two smaller bedrooms with Jack and Jill baths. Janet's "stuff" was in two distinct places. Her public garb from causal wear to formal was in our walk in closet. Her matching undergarments and intimate wear was all in drawer units in the closet. All of my clothes were on the opposite side of said closet All of this would be open to my daughter to sort through and use or dispose of. Some sentimental pieces of jewelry I retained but the balance was made up into three packets for my children. One I gave to my daughter directly and the other two went to my sons to either give to their wives or to keep for sentimental reasons.

The problem area was the bedroom area with the jack and jill bath. This had been my two son's territory but after they moved out I took over one bedroom as my study. The closet became the repository for the family safe, gun cabinet and my personal business and investment files. The room had the usual couch, comfortable chair, desk chair and desk. A large wall mounted TV and three 27" computer monitors completed the picture. Janet's room had a TV like mine and a desk with computer work station and monitor. She also had an easy chair and a lockable closet. In the closet were two locked file cabinets and several racks containing our sex toys and costume wear. None of this I felt was appropriate to share with daughter Helen. All of this needed to be dealt with and it would take me a while before I decided what to do with it.

After I divided up the jewelry I had Helen and my two daughter's in law over on a Saturday and we packed all of the public clothing items into large cartons for their use or for donation to the Good Will. By the end of that Saturday the public side of Janet's apparel was gone. Her pictures would remain for some time.

Keeping up with the momentum of Saturday I put on the Sunday football games on Janets office TV and began going through the x-rated toys and garb. As I examined the outfits and articles of clothing I started remembering the occasions upon which each was worn. As I worked I realized that I was sporting an erection that was getting uncomfortable in my shorts.

"Fuck it!" I said to no-one in particular as I dropped the shorts and continued working bare from the waist down.

Visions of Jan began flooding my mind as I examined and handled each item of the erotic collection. Certain pieces were favorites such as that green short robe. I remembered the many nights that she had greeted me at the door naked except for that loosely belted satin robe. As the robe contacted my cock it jerked leaving a smear of precum on it. I pulled back so as not to stain the garment but then I noticed the dozens of other crusted semen stains. Then I impulsively bunched the silky material around my cock and jerked off for the first time in months.

Visions of Jan on her knees sucking on my cock then on her back spreading her thighs to welcome me home from a trip flooded my brain. Jan bent over the arm of the couch with the robe thrown up as I plugged her from behind was another favorite. With an exquisite flash of pleasure I spewed my load onto the robe and as I milked the last of it out onto the silky fabric, I saw her face relaxed and blissfully smiling in the afterglow of her orgasm.

That out of the way, the rest of the packing went faster and soon the toys and costumes were packed in two large cartons.

Next were the two locked file cabinets. The keys to them were on Jan's housekey ring. Inside I found her business tax returns plus receipt folders for each of the past thirty years. As I think was mentioned earlier, when I met Janet she worked for an agency that placed stenographers with various firms. In later years she free lanced directly and therefore had her own company for tax purposes. Hence the annual returns all of which I had prepared for her. All of these contents I loaded into Bankers Boxes and using a pallet jack moved the file cabinets out to the garage. The balance of Sunday afternoon I spent organizing and opening Janet's mail that had accumulated during her final hospitalization and in the three weeks since her death.

My daughter was helping out with condolences and so I made one pile of those, another of bills and then a mystery pile of correspondence from unknown sources. The final pile was from the agency that scheduled Jan for free lance steno assignments. I had long ago ceased trying to decipher the text of these communications because they were all written in the lines and loops code of the steno secretary or the alpha numeric code of the deposition reporter.

After a beer break and the final three minutes of the Packer Bears game, I turned on Jan's computer for the first time since her death. Since I am the tech support of the family there was no issue with passwords. We have always been a Mac centric partnership and marriage and so I thought I knew about all of her apps. While certainly not the contents of every file on the computer, I at least knew how to access them as well as her email.

Janet had a standard gmail account that mirrored mine. That account had the predictable condolences, and the usual collection of solicitations and junk. She also had a business gmail account which apparently was used to communicate with her various clients for whom she did deposition work.

It was now late afternoon on Sunday and it was time for my first cocktail. Janet and I had been regular social drinkers with two mixed drinks every evening before dinner. I'll admit that I have abused that practice since she died but not to the point to which I was concerned.

Anyway, I made my Martini and went back to the computer to tie things up. My only concern was that some of her clients who didn't contact her regularly would not have heard about her death. I was planning a blast email to that list of clients so that they would take her off their list of contacts. Sure enough when I started reading through her recent unanswered mail there were a number of clients in that category. I therefore drafted a short obit notice and sent it out to the 397 addresses in her client directory. I included a generic mail drop address for any responses or questions. I omitted my name but instead signed the mail as 'Account Administrator'. I would be checking that address from my laptop and phone for any responses. With that I shut her system down and went to make my second drink and to warm up my dinner.

The first of the weird responses from her client list arrived later that evening. I however didn't know about any of the responses for three days because I was busy taking care of Jan's other estate details. We lived in a marital property state and so that fact combined with our wills and trust meant that her estate was to go to me, the survivor. There were some minor exceptions but except for a few specific bequests to the children it was a simple distribution. Most of the hassle was the settlement with the hospital and funeral home.

I logged back into her business account email over a cocktail and spent the next three hours reading about a woman I didn't know.

Administrator

Will you be staffing with another woman of comparable age? She was the perfect escort for more senior clients who wanted beauty, grace and yet an earthy sexuality.

Client 1141

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Administrator

So sorry to hear about her demise. Sorry to be crude but God she was the best fuck I ever had. Rest in peace beautiful lady.

Client 1049

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Administrator

Obviously we need a replacement for the Spring meeting. Try to get one with just as much class. She'll be missed.

Client 1347

There were a dozen or so responses more or less in the same tone and message. The most concise of which simply said "FUCK!".

So what should I make of these messages? The most obvious conclusion was that there had to be a mistake here. Somehow this was someone else's mail. It didn't seem possible to me that I had been married to a contract hooker/escort.

Back into her files I went and did a some deep diving into her Excel spreadsheets. There, buried in an archived folder with an obscure name I found several spreadsheets with dates, client numbers, cash remitted, expenses and deposit locations.

At the start of the evening I was convinced that this was a case of mistaken identity. Two hours later I knew that either my marriage had been a sham or that I had been married to a dual personality woman. What I didn't understand was how I could have been so fucking blind for so many years. Janet had always been a highly sexed woman but I never had the slightest hint that it was directed anywhere but towards me.

For days I alternated between believing that Jan was a whore or that she was the target of a malicious hoax. Then I found her steno tapes.

Steno machines have evolved over the years. Jan hadn't kept up with the latest and greatest because she didn't go on that many calls as we got closer to retirement. However her rig was modern enough to be compatible with all the newer computerized systems. Her set up consisted of the basic non qwerty keyboard that puts alpha numeric characters on a paper tape and also can send a signal to computers that is converted to l words on a screen. This brilliant system, that was invented so many years ago, allows the spoken word to be input at 250 words a minute with a minimum of quiet keystrokes. Those keystrokes are then translated into the actual words that were spoken by a computer program.

Janet's machine was in a pull behind carry on bag and included space for spare paper, tape and other supplies. It also contained the type of steel lock box that usually contains a bedside gun. The combination lock opened to her mothers birthday and revealed thumb drives labeled one through six..

I mounted one in my computer and the contents were nothing but the ascii characters of the steno machine output. Next I ran the contents through the translation program for the steno machine output. Voila, a print out of Janets diary. Over the next week I translated the contents of all six thumb drives. What I ended up with was Janet's decoded diary of her marital and extra marital life. It began with graduation from steno school and ended just shortly before her death. Following are excerpts from said diary.