Out of Love Ch. 02

I'll be honest. Part of me was pleased at making her suffer, the way I had. Although it wasn't a patch on how I was feeling, but maybe it was and I was just too angry to see that. But part of me was horrified, both at her suffering and at my own self for inflicting it. But I was seeing red and that was the lesser voice.

"Chloe, I'm leaving. I'm leaving you, this house, this marriage, those friendships and this town. We are done. What you did was just... too far for me to deal with. Maybe in years to come but right, as I said, all I can see is Jim's cock in you. I'll find a lawyer and have him contact you."

I stood up. "I'm sorry it came to this, but you did this. Maybe it was circumstances, but that's the way it's happened and I have to deal with it." Chloe wailed and got up to come to me. I was ready for this and backpedaled to the front door pretty nimbly and opened the front door -- having not locked it before, and was out before she got to me.

I was in my van and backing away, seeing her in the door way, quaking and crying her eyes out. I was shaking badly myself, and I only drove a couple of blocks before pulling over in order to calm down. In doing so, 5 minutes later, I witnessed Jim's red Ford Explorer whip past me on the way to my old house. I snorted and though "figures" and as I drove away, I idly wondered if Chloe would get fucked again tonight. But then I thought "It's none of my business any more" and resolved to put it out of my mind as much as I could.

Fat Chance.

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Six months passed. Stuff happened.

For three months, I was a complete disaster. I barely bathed, I basically just got enough furniture in my apartment from craigslist to sit on. I discovered I didn't need TV at all -- just downloaded everything from the internet. I found myself crying at odd moments, and I replayed both the moment of waking up in that lodge and the final rant with Chloe over and over in my head, playing out different scenarios.

Chloe has tried to contact me several times. By phone, which I ignored and email, which I also ignored. I'd moved once, when I got a registered letter from her -- how she found me I don't know, but I was pretty sure it would be followed up by an in person visit if I didn't respond, so I moved instead.

I got a lawyer, and we hashed out terms. She's not signed yet, but that's ok. There's time and I'm in no hurry to be married again.

But, like I said, I was a mess. I stopped running, exercising and doing anything good. I drank took much and got into two fights. Both Jim and Mark tried to contact me too, but gave up after a few weeks. I spoke to my sister and told her a brief version of events -- she knows where I am but no one else does. Well, no one that doesn't have access to a private investigator, anyway.

Jim even wrote to my software company, asking if I'd do some contract work for him, with a new company he was financing -- "can we let bygones be bygones" indeed. I laughed at that, but did put him onto a friend of mine who needed the work. I told him to triple his quote and Jim paid it, with no questions.

I stopped shaving, both my face and my head -- and I really saw how grey I was and how thin the hair was on top. Strangely enough, it was this that really prompted me to start turning myself around. I could NOT just let my hair be thin and grey -- which completely obviated my long running rant about other people who cared too much about their hair; I did too, just in the opposite way -- I HAD to shave it, and as such, it was then that I started to even start looking at coming out of my funk.

It took me 3 months to really come to terms with the fact that I was on my own now, that Chloe was out of my life and I was alone.

And then I met Amy. Now, this is not your typical rebound affair. I still don't know quite why she chose me, because I was a disaster and one look at me made that clear -- but she did, and she turned out to be everything I needed.

Amy Halslip was red headed, spirited, in charge of her own life and certainly not in charge of mine. But she brook no shit, took no prisoners, you got once chance and if you made it through, you were golden. She was also the most levelheaded person I ever met, and able to see the other side of any discussion almost instantly. It was an almost supernatural gift.

Somehow, I made it through.

We met at a book store. Most of the time I was strictly digital -- I LOVE my kindle -- but in my haste to leave Chloe, I'd forgotten one particular book, from Neil Gaiman, that holds particular memories for me. I simply have to have a hard copy, so I'd gone to the bookstore -- one of those huge ones with a coffee shop in it, to get one. I'd encountered Amy in the science fiction section -- which was unusual enough, an attractive woman into sci-fi? -- and had a very brief bit of banter when she'd asked me where a particular author was; as it turned out, one of my favorites -- but then I'd encountered her again in the coffee shop -- she had the only remaining chair free at her table, so I asked if I could sit down.

We talked, she made me laugh -- a rarity in those days -- and I left feeling better than I had in a while. She pressed on me her card and made me promise to call. I didn't, but we ran into each other again a week later at the grocery store. We went for coffee again. Somehow we ended up dating.

I was entirely unsure about it, but she seemed sure. She was calm, reassuring, unwavering and extremely understanding with me. Everything I needed. She started to bring me out of my shell a bit - took me out to movies, made me eat out, went through my refrigerator and discarded all the old and crap stuff. She wrinkled my nose at my furniture, where I lived and then... then there was the sex.

That was just...weird. It was effortless and passionate and she just knew so much as to what would make a man happy. She was obviously a woman with a past, but I never enquired. I don't know why, it just wasn't a subject we got onto and if we did, she steered it away very quickly. All I knew is that she was as new in Portland as I was, had very few friends and was quite ok that way, living her life for herself.

She was pretty damn awesome to look at too -- 5'11", as I said, red tresses flowing down her back -- it was obviously dyed since she didn't have the fair skin that goes with red hair -- it's a striking thing that you can't quite work out what is wrong when you first see her, but it just makes her more attractive and interesting, not less. She has a 36B bust, knows how to use it, an hourglass figure and a penchant for long flowy dresses. She has a gentle humor and very subtle New York accent that I swear she tries to hide.

I was happy. For the first time in a long time, I could see a future that was Chloe less, but still ok. The pain and anger was still there, but diminishing over time -- Amy was helping me overcome it and it was almost too good to be true. Exactly what I needed had come along and I was starting to recover.

She was even tentatively interested in some of things I was. Unlike Chloe, she'd not roll her eyes when I'd make Star Wars quotes, although hearing she'd never seen The Return of the Jedi was more than I could take. I bought the bluray that afternoon and we watched it, while drinking beer.

Afterwards I asked her what she thought and she said "It was an interesting exercise in an inverted oedipal complex", whatever that meant. I would discover that, but not until much later.

Of course my story came out one night. It was inevitable. I'll never forget her response though. She gathered me up as I cried and said "It'll be ok. Not all women are like that. And remember, while she hurt you, it was not intentional. You have to remember there was no malice. Just thoughtlessness". As she rocked me back and forth.

Her understanding blew me away and we had many discussions about it over the next few months. She was adamant that Chloe's actions weren't malicious, just stupid and that I needed to understand my own reactions to understand myself better. She ended up Chloe's number 1 cheerleader, and I could never really quite understand why. But she'd follow up a sermon with a blow job and a damn good one at that -- I never tired of her looking up at me smiling at me, with my cum leaking out of her mouth. She'd start by licking my cock to erection, then licking the shaft up and down, just touching the tip on occasion, then going full down on it and using her tongue on my tip, then just as I was getting there, going back the shaft again. It was only long after we were done that I realized that what she was doing was exactly what I did to her, only when I was eating her -- I'd lick all around her labia, the touch her clit occasionally, go back to the labia, maybe tongue fuck her a bit, then I'd go all out on the clit, licking, sucking, biting (gently), for a couple of minutes, then I'd go back to tongue fucking or licking around her pussy. It drove her crazy and I had no idea that I was subconsciously showing her what I wanted too.

She also had this trick of laying her flat hand on the top of my cock and making circular motions with her hands that just drove me insane. She could get me off in moments if she kept that up. Thankfully, she used it to drive me to the edge, and then she'd let go. I could never decide if she was being cruel or just trying to keep it going. She definitely had Tantric training in her life though -- I found some of her techniques in an online Tantric manual one night, and found one to use on her too.

Anyway, we were happy. She laughed at my jokes, told me when I was being an asshole -- though not roughly, and then, three months later, and six months from The Montana Event, as we had taken to calling it, real life came calling again.

I got an email. It was routed through Yahoo and it had a spoofed IP, because the IP it did have was the White House, and no one at the White House was emailing me about my ex-wife.

It simply said "Your wife is in trouble. If you have any love for her, you need to get home. A friend".

It was quite perplexing. I did some halfhearted sleuthing on it and worked out where it had been spoofed from - the service used, - but my heart wasn't in it. I had no intention of reopening that door and just ignored it.

Nothing happened for two weeks, and then I got another one. This time it said "She needs you. Things are going badly, and she might be in harms way. Go home now. A friend".

This time I showed it to Amy.

She looked at it, sat back and looked at me.

"What do you think?" I asked her. She played with a pen and said "I don't think it matters what I think, does it? It matters what you think, surely?"

"I guess" I said, "I dunno what to think."

"We should talk about this," Said Amy, in therapist mode "Do you still love her? On I know you aren't In Love with her, but that's different. You know what I mean."

"I dunno. I guess. She was my other half for 9 years. And when I say Other Half, I don't mean it like most men do."

Amy nodded. "Yes, I get that. You are a man who commits completely. You know how unusual that is?"

I laughed. "Yeah, Mark -- my friend Mark -- used to ask me when I was getting a vagina installed."

She tilted her head "You can laugh about him now. No bitterness?"

"Oh I'm still so fucking mad at him I could spit" I said, "But it's very... compartmentalized, you know? If I think of that night, I just want to kill the man in cold blood. But I can also think about the good times as well -- him and Jim. Did I tell you about the Vegas weekend we had that was pretty much the basis for The Hangover?"

She nodded. "Repeatedly" she said, in a weary tone, but with a smile.

"So, what are you going to do?" She said, getting back on subject.

"Well, I honestly don't know. Nothing? I think that door is closed now." I looked away from her when I said it and she saw it. She leaned in and took my chin in her hand and turned my head back to face her.

"I think... I think you need more closure. That or you need to resolve this. I think you left in an angry fashion. You know she wasn't trying to hurt you, even though she did in an unbelievably hard way. You need to resolve that in yourself. You don't have to stay. You just need to acknowledge that. We've only been together for 3 months, but I think I know you well enough to say that you are decent and good man. I think you left angry, you said things you regret and you need to clean that slate. Maybe helping her will help you."

"Do I still need help?" I said to Amy, her words having really cut to my core.

She raised her other hand and touched a tear on my face that I wasn't even aware was there. "I think you need to forgive yourself for your reaction first. It was ok and natural. And you are still mad at yourself. Look, go. Go see what is going on. I'll be here when you get back. You know I will be. We have lots more time yet - I can't bear to see you getting better but be stunted the way you are right now. Maybe this will help. I don't know either, but I think you need this."

I looked at her and smiled, and then she gave me a reason to remember her.

We went to the bedroom, and she took me outside onto the very small balcony off the loft bedroom I had. She kissed me hard, pulled my cock out of sweats and went to town on it, using every trick she had. But this time, she stopped once I was fully hard, kissed me hard again, which I didn't have a problem with, which surprised me, and then turned around and pulled up her flowing robe dress at the back. Again, I was startled to find she was wearing no underwear -- obviously there was a memo going around that I'd not seen- and bending slightly over the balcony railing, she pushed my very hard cock into her very wet pussy. It only worked because she was so tall, but it did work and I was enjoying the hell out of it. We had a slow rhythm, me pumping slowing from behind and her backing up into me. At one point she made me bend over her and grabbed my hand and put it on her breast, which was swinging free from the flowing dress she was wearing. If anyone looked up, they'd have gotten an eyeful of her tits and my hands on them, but we were on the 7^th floor and no one did.

I was surprised at how easy it was... and as I was starting to up the rhythm, she pulled away and said, "Down cowboy... lets do something else different..."

She led me inside to the bed, and then got on all fours. I noticed there was lube on the side table, so obviously this wasn't as spur of the moment as I had thought, and she saw me looking and said "Put some on your cock". I had an idea of why -- she was very wet right now and didn't need it for her pussy, which meant I must be going somewhere else.

Sure enough, once I was lubed up she leant back and took my cock in hand, and pushed it towards her asshole.

I whispered in her ear, as I pushed the head of my cock in "I had no idea you were such a dirty girl!" -- I heard her gasp as it went in and instantly went still, letting her get accustomed to it. Chloe would never go for anal sex, but I'd done it in the past, pre-Chloe. I knew that the initial entry is the most painful for a woman, and you need to let her adjust once you'd got the head in.

After a minute of two, Amy started slowing pushing back on my cock controlling the rhythm and depth of penetration. I could hear her breathing increase, and I realized this was something she was getting off on. It did cross my mind to wonder why, if she liked this so much, it had taken three months for us to get to this, but on the other hand my dick was in her ass and it was so tight and felt incredible and I wasn't inclined to ask questions.

After a couple of minutes of this, Amy pulled my dick all the way in, held it for a second, and then whispered to me, "You have no idea. Now fuck my ass, fuck it hard and fuck it long." I needed no second invitation, and I started pile driving that ass.

Amy was definitely into it. I don't know whether it was because it was taboo, or the sensations it gave her, or how nasty it was, but we fucked for at least an hour with me doing her ass in every conceivable position. And she had no problem with ass to mouth either. I'd fuck her for 10 minutes, we'd change position, she'd go down on me, then reapply lube and we'd be back at it. She talked dirty the whole time too, "You like my ass do you? You like fucking this sluts ass?" and so on. It was incredible.

And then, when I said I was going to cum, she spun around and just sat there, mouth open, tongue outstretched while I blew my load on it. It was full on porn experience and I've never quite had anything like it.

She smiled up at me and licked her lips and said "Just so you don't forget what is waiting at home for you..."

Quite some night.

But that's how I ended up back in Spokane. Sitting on my street in my car and wondering what was going on. I honestly couldn't face going to my old house at that moment and instead, on impulse, I drove to my old local. I had no idea why -- it was only going to be full of questions about where I had been for the past 6 months, but even that was preferable to going to up to my house. I still had no idea of what I was going to say or what I was even there for, but Amy had thought it was a good idea and I needed it, so here I was.

I pulled into the lot of the Happy Turnip -- Washington Bar owners have a strange sense of humor -- and as I did so, I saw an old friend, Sam Burlington leaving the bar, he recognized the car, did a double take and waved at me. I stopped and wound down the window.

"Hey Sam".

"Jace! Where the hell have you been dude? We've all been looking for you at some point or another. Even thought you were dead at one point."

"I'm still alive and kicking Sam. Just had to get out of town for a bit. Problems and stuff. Don't really want to go into it, right now though."

"Yeah, I hear you. Trudy is still ringing my bell though. I'm actually late or I'd stay and chat. You in town long? Can we catch up?"

I looked out the windshield of the car and looked back and said "I dunno man. I don't know how long I'll be here -- got some stuff to resolve, you know? Look, I'll be around, if you see me, let's have a beer and a chin wag, ok?"

"Sounds like a plan sir." He raised his fist for a fist bump and I drove on into the parking lot. I got out of the car and went into the bar.

I had managed two beers and some desultory chat with old acquaintances, when the door opened and Mark walked in. I saw him in the mirror of the bar and sighed. The instant I saw him I knew it was Sam. Sam's wife, Trudy, was the PTSO vice president and who was the president? Wendy. Of course Sam had told Trudy he'd seen me. Of course she'd called Wendy. Of course Mark knew.

Well, there was only one way out and it was through Mark. Unless I was prepared to knock him down, there was going to be a conversation.

I looked away and felt him settle into the chair next to me.

He signaled the bar keep and said "A beer, and whatever my friend is having."

"Oh we 'friends' again Mark?" I said, bitterness I didn't know I had coming out.

He turned and looked at me. "J, I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry. We completely misjudged the situation. The beer, the alcohol, the night before... I know Chloe has already said all this to you, but I need to say it myself. I'm so sorry. We know we destroyed a friendship and for nothing. It was just sex. Good sex" -- the man couldn't help himself, he had to brag as well -- "but just sex, nothing more. If I could take it back, I would."

I leaned back and ignored the bottle placed in front of me and waited till the bar keep retreated. "I'm sure you would Mark. But you can't. I can tell you this. It's a good thing you are here and not Jim. Him I would deck. I should deck you too -- I know how the evening started -- but frankly, it's not worth my time."