Paul And Paula

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"I just wish...somehow...that he was out of the picture. Everything would be...easier..if he was gone."

"Yeah, it would, but it's not going to happen. He's a young man and although he's let himself go the last few years, he's not going to drop dead. He's not going to cheat on me and fall in love with someone else. He's – I don't know how else to say it, he's such a Goddamned Boy Scout I don't think he has it in him to cheat or seduce another woman – if he even remembered how. He's one of the good guys, and unfortunately, I'm one of the bad girls."

..more sucking sounds, gasps and moans of pleasure.....

"..oh yeah, you are such a bad girl...."

"we're joking, Greg, but I really think that's a big part of it. He is so goddamned boringly good and rational and reasonable and loving and caring...it's like he's a fucking plaster saint...he looks good from the outside, but try living with one. you know, he massages my damned legs when I wake up with cramps..and makes dinner in bed for me...and if I feel like get my pussy licked he'll eat me but he won't force me to fuck him if I'm not in the mood. Can you see yourself letting me turn you away after you've eaten me and want to bury that big dick in my pussy...no I can't see it either...you're a man, and you'd force me to fuck and love it....he's...a nice guy and he lets me push him away...it's like...I don't know where his balls went..but how you can respect somebody like that...

"When we go to parties and I practically let guys milk my titties..., he just looks the other way or comes along and quietly and calmly gets me away from whoever I'm playing with..he doesn't get mad dammit...and that drives me crazy sometimes...it's like..he's 90 years old and I wonder where the man who used to fuck me went...but maybe he was never really there...

"Looking back, I think he was always that calm and good and reasonable...I think that's what attracted me to him at the time. He was such a contrast to the guys I was fucking then, I'd let two or three of them bang me over a weekend aned call in their friends and I loved every damned minute of it. Loved those bad boys...and he came along with flowers and poetry and making love to me gently and all that Prince Charming shit went to my head..i thought that was what I wanted, and then the kids came along and I was a happy Haus Frau...but it was all a lie. It wasn't me and it took me years to realize what a mistake I'd made and then it was too late...."

Paul sat there on the bed in Gil's upstairs bedroom and wanted to cry but there were no tears. What he felt was deeper than sorrow. It was despair he felt and he thought he'd never known the true meaning of that word before. He had built his whole life on a lie, fallen in love with somebody who really didn't exist. He'd never known about the weekend fucking orgies or the bad boys. He'd never known that side of her, never known the contempt she felt for him. And what was worse, she wasn't angry when she had spoken. She was calm and he knew she spoke the truth.

Gil had stayed outside while Paul listened to the portion of the tape. He walked in and put his hand on his friend's shoulder and simply said, "I'm sorry."

************** ******************* ************

Everything seemed strange the next day as he drove to the Duval campus, although he'd driven that route for over a dozen years. It was strange, dreamlike and he wasn't sure why. Maybe because his whole world was dissolving beneath his feet and he kept feeling that he had fallen into a nightmare that wouldn't end.

He took the elevator to the third floor of the central administration building, walked toward his office passing administrators and secretaries and making a general type of notice of them but not talking to anybody. Sherry was already at her desk, typing something into her PC when she saw him coming. She was about to stand up when he made a little negative nod of his head and walked into his office and closed the door behind him.

A minute later he heard the knock at the door and knew he had to begin his day.

"Come in, Sherry."

She stepped in hesitantly, searching his face for something, then said, "Are you okay? You're feeling better today?"

"Yes. It was just a temporary bug. Probably not even as serious as the flue, but it knocked me for a loop for a few days."

She stood there for a minute just looking at him, then asked, "She's going to call again today. Do you want to talk to her?"

For a moment he even forgot that Sherry was still standing there and he was talking to himself.

"That's the $64 thousand dollar question. Do I want to talk to her? God, I wish I knew."

Then he looked back up and realized Sherry was standing there and had heard his thoughts spoken aloud.

After a moment she walked around the desk and he involuntarily pulled back, beginning to stand as she approached him. She launched herself into his arms before he could raise his arms to stop her and then he could only awkwardly hold her while she hugged him.

"Sherry-"

"It's okay, Paul. I'm not going to do anything stupid," but she sniffled as she said it. "I'm not stupid. Everybody that knows what's going on knows you weren't sick. Not with the flue anyway."

She pulled back and stared into his eyes from a foot and a half away and Paul thought suddenly how stupid he was not to have noticed that she was a beautiful woman. A very beautiful woman who'd been right under his nose for years and who would have fallen into bed with him if he'd once indicated he was thinking that way about her.

"I don't know what she did, Paul, but you're not the kind of guy to blow up over anything little or unimportant. Whatever she did, it was bad. You know you're so pale people that don't know there's any trouble would think you'd been in bed for a week with the flue. You're gray, actually gray. And you don't look like you've slept in a week and your socks and slacks and your shirt- nothing matches. You just threw on whatever was closest, didn't you?"

"Sherry-"

She turned her back and him and he thought she was walking out of his office but instead she went to the door, closed it and locked it. Then she came back.

This time she put her arms around his neck and stared at him from almost eye level and she closed in and kissed him. It was a hard kiss and after a moment he let her slide her tongue in and found himself kissing her back, at least a little. As she kissed her she rubbed her groin back and forth against him and he involuntarily found himself hardening.

Finally he regained some control and put his hands on her arms and pushed a little bit away so he could breath and look in her eyes.

"Sherry, this can't happen. I'm sorry but-"

She interrupted him with another kiss and it took him longer to remove her arms from around his neck this time.

'I don't know what you think is happening, but-"

He felt her soft hand wrap itself around his penis and slowly tug and jerk until it grew harder and longer and she rubbed it back and forth under the fabric of his slacks.

"God! Stop for God's sake. What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm squeezing and rubbing your dick, you idiot," she said with a sad smile. "I've wanted to do this for years."

"But, we can't. I'm married and you know we can't do this."

"Why?" She squeezed almost hard enough to hurt, and he couldn't stop the groan that broke out of his mouth. In another few seconds he'd be squirting and making a mess in his underwear. He had no idea Sherry could get him so hard so fast.

He forced himself put his hand over hers and she stopped rubbing his dick, but she didn't let go.

"We have to work together. I'm a married man. This is going to ruin everything, Sherry. I like you. I like working with you. But after this..."

"Shut up Paul," she said firmly and he couldn't believe she was talking to him that way.

"Let's be honest for a minute. You know I've wanted to fuck you for at least two years, and I know you love my ass and you always look down my blouse when I bend over your desk. But you're married, so I just let it go the way it was going. And you're a good guy so I knew you were never going to cheat on Paula. You're not that kind of guy.

"But you forget I've known you for six years, you and Paula. Something bad, really really bad has happened between the two of you. I knew it the first moment I heard you on the phone that day. Not just a fight, although I don't think I've ever known you guys to fight – about anything. No, whatever she did, she broke your heart."

He loathed the weakness that made tears appear in his eyes and he saw the look in her as she saw them.

"The miserable bitch. I guess she can probably fool guys because you all think with your dicks, but every woman around her knows she's a bitch, and probably a cheating bitch. I've been at parties when you stepped away for a few minutes. She's good, but I've seen her rub guys' dicks, get at least a couple of them off. That's why all the single guys make sure to show up whenever they know you two are planning to come to any kind of party or function."

He shook his head.

"I don't .-"

"it's true," Sherry said vehemently "No one would tell you because the guys all wanted a piece of her and the women could see you were head over heels in love with her. No one wanted to be the one to tell you.

"I don't know how you found out, or what you found out, but I know things are going to change now."

He pushed her further away from him.

"But I don't know that. I don't know what's going to happen and I can't get – involved – with anybody right now."

She let him push her away for a moment, then leaned back in for one softer, lingering kiss and he couldn't push her away again. He wanted to grab her and hold her and rub his dick against the softness of her belly and pussy and forget everything had happened over the last few days. But it wouldn't make what had happened go away.

She finally let him go.

"Maybe you two won't break up, this time, but I'm betting you will. I'm not the only woman on this campus that has looked at you and gotten wet thinking about what it would be like to be in bed with you...to live with you. Do you know how jealous every women, single or married, around here is of Paula? Nobody has a husband or boyfriend that treats them the way you treat her. So when it becomes official and you're on the market, there's going to be a run on Paul Donnally. "

She reached out with her left hand and gently wiped lipstick smudges off his lips and checks, then with a smile, reached lower and adjusted the bar of what felt like steel between his legs so it wouldn't be so noticeable.

"I'm just putting you on notice that when you are free, I want first dibs. We've been dancing around each other for years. I think we ought to find out if there's more than just this insane sexual attraction that we have for each other."

She turned and walked back to the door and unlocked it. Before stepping out, she looked back at him and said, "Think about it. Just think about it."

He thought about it. He really thought about nothing else but what she had said and done for the next three hours. He answered mail and memos and made appointments, and returned newspaper and television reporters' calls and popped his head in the door of the University's president to talk about the budget meetings, and he did it all on auto pilot. If he'd had to, he couldn't have told you 30 minutes later what he'd been talking about. But he knew Sherry was keeping track and had a better idea than he did what his actions and agenda was for the day. Which was why she was such a super secretary and personal aid.

But as he thought about Sherry and himself, what lingered in the back of his mind was Paula – and their life together. He remembered her conversation with her lover. So she really had loved him, or made herself believe she did, for a long time. He hadn't been completely fooled then. Only for the last 10 years!

It was hard to look that far back, but trying to remember when they had first met and how, he knew there was a wild edge to her, a fiery sexuality and he'd suspected she'd been fucking somebody when she wasn't with him. But they weren't committed then and he made himself believe that it didn't matter until they had made that commitment.

And he knew he couldn't let the suspicions and anger that sometimes swept through him when he was certain she had been with other guys grow into a firestorm of rage because he already knew where that would lead. He had to maintain self control, had to be rational and calm because there was no way he was ever going back to the person he had been before he gained control of his life.

"And what did it get me?" he couldn't help asking himself. "I never lost control of myself again, after that time, and I was calm and understanding and I never beat the hell out of any of the guys that put their hands on her at parties because that wouldn't do. And instead of making her love me more, it finally convinced her I just a dumb wimp husband who had lost his balls and his manhood. She didn't just leave me, I gave her away."

Looking at the smiling photo of the two of them taken on a trip five years before to a convention in the Bahamas,at a time when she was undoubtedly fucking other guys when he wasn't around, he felt the old stirrings arise in him and his fists clenched, but he forced those feelings down.

He had to think it through. If what she had said, and what Gil had said, was true, it was a fairly simple, and old story.Fifty percent of marriages failed in the U.S. And the seven year itch was such a cliché because it was so true. She had simply had a wilder sex life than he was aware of when they met. And she had tried to be faithful to him.

Then somebody else, or maybe it had been that bastard, Ortiz, had taken her by being the rough male that her husband wasn't. She must have needed a tougher, more dominating type of love than her husband was giving her.

Look at it that way and it was as much his fault as hers. She didn't know the secret that had shaped his life, made him the man he'd become. He had never told her, never told anyone because he couldn't. And she hadn't been able to tell him, 'dear husband, I need you to be more of a man and fuck me harder so I won't feel contempt for you.'

What wife could actually tell her husband that?

So she had began her secret life, unaware of his secret life, and for ten years she had been drawing further and further away from him until she could tell another man she loved him more than her poor dull husband.

Looked at it that way, it was just a rather conventional domestic tragedy. Probably taking place in thousands of households around the country.

But...

Without any awareness of what he was about to do, he grabbed the photo and smashed his fist through the encasing glass into Paula's smiling face, and then again and again until he couldn't see her features or his for the blood smeared across the photo paper.

Sherry was standing there and he realized she was staring at him in horror. He wondered why until he realized he was holding the shattered picture frame, glass lay shattered across the top of his desk and his blood spatters where the glass had slashed his fist covered the photo and his desk.

"I-..."

"Oh, God, Paul, don't move. Let me get the first aid kite. Please, don't move."

He just stared at the picture and his desk and his bloody fist in dull amazement. What had happened? It had been so long since he'd let himself feel those emotions that it took a few minutes to realize that it was sheer, blinding, red haze rage that had swept through him as he stared at the face of the woman who had thrown him and his love into the trashcan of life. And he began to shake uncontrollably. Not in rage anymore, but fear.

What would have happened if it had been Paula herself standing in front of him in that moment? Would she be lying lifeless at his feet? Could he have controlled his rage? There was a time when he would have bet his life that he would never give way to that type of anger again. But was he willing to bet Paula's life that he could control himself around her?

Sherry was rushing into the room with a first aid kit, followed by another secretary, Wendy, and Robert Hites, head of the Economy Department. There was babble until Sherry got to him and started picking the glass fragments out of his hand.

A half hour later he sat in the medical aide office in a nearby building where a nurse was always kept on staff and a doctor was always on call for medical emergencies on campus. Dr. Ben Steiner, whose specialty was emergency room medicine but who made nearly a half again as much by wasting his time at the university campus, was examining his hand, turning it over and then back again.

"Bend the index finger, Mr. Donnally," he said, followed by, "try to make a fist, slowly."

After a few more minutes, Steiner dropped the hand onto the examining table and stepped back toward a waiting Sherry and Dr. Hites.

"There's no real damage to tendons, ligaments and nothing that requires more than a butterfly stitch on that one long cut on the lower left back of the hand," Steiner said. "It looked a lot worse than it actually was. Cuts like that bleed a lot. I am curious, though, Mr. Donnally, how the hell did you do that much damage to your hand. By accident?"

Donnally looked down at his feet and tried to think of an answer. He came up with nothing.

Steiner gave him a penetrating glance and said softly, "If I was going by appearances, I'd say you smashed the hell out of that glass frame, kept smashing it even after you started carving your hand up, and didn't stop until there was no more glass to smash. They tell me it was a picture of you and your wife. Unless you've got suicidal tendencies, that makes me grateful that it was a picture of your wife and not your wife that you got your hands on."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Sherry said fiercely, stepping between Steiner and Paul. "We've already told you it was an accident. You're paid as a physician, not a detective."

Steiner gave first her and then Paul a knowing glance then turned to Hines, who nodded and Steiner accepted the order.

"All right, I'll write up an accident report. And I'll put that butterfly stitch in in just a moment. Won't take long....but..."

He stopped and rubbed his chin for a moment before continuing.

"I've worked in emergency rooms in Atlanta and Baton Rouge before coming to Jax and I've seen all kinds of domestic disputes. Wives come in with their faces battered to hamburger by husbands and husbands come in with knives and forks stuck in their backs. One guy woke up after an argument with his head nearly cut off by his wife carving on him with a kitchen knife. People do all kinds of things when their marriages go sour. Mr. Donnally, I know you've got an important position here and everything I've ever heard about you says you're a decent man. So, I'll just give you a little bit of advice, for free. Don't meet face to face with your wife until you've got some resolution to whatever is going on between you two. Life is too short to spend it behind bars for any woman – or man for that matter."

Paul was still thinking about what Steiner had said at 3:30 p.m. It was only an hour until everyone started leaving for the weekend. Sherry was outside ostentatiously staying out of his way. What had happened terrified him, but he couldn't believe he could really hurt Paula. Even now, he wasn't sure if there was some way to keep his life together. If he could just contain his anger, somehow make her believe everything was still alright, there would be time to think about what to do.

If the truth came out, everything would end. The kids would be devastated, their marriage would be over, he'd be alone for the first time in two decades. And he knew, he knew, he knew, that if they split, he'd never see her again. There would be men lining up, rich men, powerful men, handsome men, to capture her for themselves and there was no way he could compete. She was a lying, miserable bitch and there was a part of him that hated her, but the thought of never seeing her again, of losing all contact with her, shook him.