Same Old Song and Dance Ch. 02

It was just before 8 pm when my phone rang. I jumped off of the bed and ran across the room hoping it was Greg or at least one of the kids calling me.

"Hello ... Greg," I said into the phone.

"Uh ... Actually it's Tony Thompson, uhm your divorce attorney," he said. "I've met with your husband's lawyer, and we've scheduled a brief meeting for tomorrow. It will give us a chance to talk and lay our cards on the table, so to speak. How does one p.m. in my office, sound to you?"

"Will Greg be there?" I asked.

"I insisted on it," he said.

As I hung up the phone, I jumped back into the cheap bed. I needed to get to sleep as soon as possible. I set the alarm on my phone to wake me at 6 a.m.

That way, I could have an early breakfast and head to the mall. I needed to buy an outfit that would knock my husband's socks off. Then I'd get my hair and makeup done and maybe a massage. The massage would open my pores and makes my skin look younger. I needed to look like a million bucks when I walked in, fashionably late. I had to get there after Greg did, so I could make an entrance. Greg loves me, but I had to do everything in my power to make him want me back.

I guess that sounds easy considering the fact that Greg has loved me for more than twenty years and is currently as broken up about losing me as I am about losing him. But the reality is that I need to make myself look enticing enough that he can forget the terrible things I did. And that would be asking a lot, especially since I'm no longer a spring chicken by any means.

My night was spent chasing sleep that came in fits and starts. I kept imagining that every single woman in town and half of the married ones were after Greg. I saw myself at the rear of a line of women a mile or longer just to get to ask him to go out with me.

Greg sat on a stool and spoke to each woman for five or six seconds and gave them either the thumbs-up sign or a thumbs-down. That was his way of narrowing the ridiculously long line down to the few he would actually date. I dreamed that it took me more than a year to get to the front of the line, and just when I got there, the woman ahead of me was his last woman for the day. He told the rest of us to come back the next day, and that he would have short dates with the women, he had selected that day.

He also told us that the woman who was directly in front of me reminded him of someone special. I smiled because she looked like me, she was built like me, and she acted ... Like me.

I came back the very next day and took my place in line. I was so nervous and so ready that I could barely contain myself. But Greg never showed up. We waited for hours, grumbling and cursing, until he finally arrived. He had a huge smile on his face. The one that was usually reserved for two things, the first was cumming in my ass, and the second was the announcement of some new Mustang modification.

He took one look at me, and the smile got even bigger.

"Hi," he said. I felt warm all over. "You're the one," he said. My knees started knocking. "I want you to be the first," he continued, "To congratulate me. I'm marrying the woman who was in line right in front of you."

In yet another similar dream. My Greg had decided to marry the little bitch that had served me with the divorce papers. She sat there furiously cracking her gum, while I cried my eyes out.

I woke up in a cold sweat. I just drank several cups of coffee to calm myself down. Rationally, I knew that what I had dreamed about was only a bad dream. But it reminded me that I needed to tread very carefully because I was on dangerous ground. One misstep and I could lose everything that I had worked so hard for.

One of the things that I really wondered about was the change in the relationship between Greg and my two oldest children. Finding out that he had raised other men's children had to be devastating, especially when Debbie being biologically his child only proved that he was definitely virile enough to get me pregnant. It would probably have been easier to swallow if it had turned out that he was incapable of siring children. This way, it just made me seem like even more of a whore.

The morning was not exactly uneventful. I walked into the mall as soon as the guards opened the doors. I walked into my favorite women's clothing store and asked the woman behind the counter to bring me several of the outfits they had in the window.

"Which ones," she asked. I pointed out two pants outfits and a dress. She shook her head.

"We don't have any of those in your size," she said. I pointed at my fourth choice. She shook her head again. As I was raising my hand to point at my next choice, she just pulled my hand down and told me not to bother. Nothing in their window would fit me. She pulled me back inside of the store.

"Look ma'am," she said. "Time passes us all by. The stuff you were looking at in that window are light breezy summer outfits designed for fresh younger girls and women. You know ... They're designed to make men think that they can see under the clothes, when they really can't.

The main purpose of wearing clothes like that is to help a girl get a man." She smiled and looked at me. I think her eyes settled on the big diamond ring on my left hand.

"Women like us don't need outfits like that. We've already got our men. We need clothes that are protective." She said.

"I don't need clothes to protect me," I spat.

"No, Honey," she said. "I meant our clothes protect the men from seeing what our lithe beautiful bodies have turned into. If they could really see what we have under these clothes, no man would ever get married again."

"You need something in black that covers you from neck to toe," she said.

I thanked her for her time and moved on to the next clothing store. The woman who ran that store informed me that she got a lot of her business from the first store I'd been to.

"That bitch used to be a nun," she said. "She wasn't happy though because she wasn't gettin' nun, if you know what I mean. She only hooked up with the church because she played for the all girls team. I'll hook you up with the kind of gear a man wants to see Ya in."

She brought me several outfits to try on. "These are just what you need," she said.

I tried on the first outfit. It consisted of lime green booty shorts and an orange halter top. I looked in the mirror and almost threw up looking at myself. The shorts were so tight in the front that my camel toe seemed to be lit up. There was no back in the shorts. My ass was hanging out for all to see. My gut bulged out from under the halter top and my lack of endowment up top made it so loose that it was constantly flapping open and showing anyone who was interested, what I didn't have.

When I asked for a different outfit to try on she handed me pink booty shorts and a sheer white halter top that was so tight it looked like a see-through bra. I gave them back to her and headed for a different store. In the third store, I finally found an outfit with a skirt that fit well and showed off my curves without making me look like a stripper. It was conservative enough that it would be great for a number of occasions and colorful enough to look good without appearing either too dowdy, too clowny, or too whorey. It was perfect.

The stylist was another problem. She ended up chopping off the hair on one side of my head. She gave me some sort of asymmetrical Bob, that might've been cute on a figure skater, but I had asked for her only to trim my split ends. Greg loved my hair soft, long, and natural. I complained so much that she didn't charge me for the cut. I told the makeup artist to make me beautiful.

"Do I look like a special effects wizard?" she snapped. "Shit, it's the same thing every day. Women come in here and expect me to perform miracles. Why don't I ever get a sane request? Why, just once can't one of these women come in here and ask me just to show them how to put on their makeup correctly. Nope. All I get is make me look like a fuckin' Goddess. Make me look like Kim God Damned Kardashian. That's it ... I quit. Fuck this job! I'm going back to the Seven Eleven!" She threw all of her makeup tubes on the floor and then took off the smock she'd been wearing and walked out the door.

Every head in the place was staring at me. "Well this is awkward," I said. I decided just to go home and put on my own makeup.

"Where are you going, Honey," asked a very big, very feminine man. He had a thick beard and a shaved head. "Don't let that bitch scare you. She just used you in her one woman Off Broadway drama. She'd been thinking of quitting for a long time, and we got paid yesterday. She just needed a way out and figured you were it. You're really no uglier than most of the older women we get in here. In fact, you look younger than most of the women your age. My mom is sixty, just like you, and she'd love to have skin as smooth as yours. You ..."

"I'm only forty eight," I spat. He looked at my face closely, and his brow wrinkled as he concentrated.

"Are you sure?" he asked. I turned and walked out of the shop. I went home and did my own makeup. I figured that the new haircut would be enough of a change. Besides, Greg had loved my face enough to marry it, so there had to be something that he liked about it.

It was a twenty-minute drive from the motel to my lawyer's office. I left ten minutes before the appointment. I breezed in to the angry eyes of my lawyer and shocked approval from Greg. Of course, his lawyer was confused. He'd never seen me before so the changes were lost on him.

"Wow, you look awesome," gushed Greg. "We may have to amend the divorce papers."

"May I speak with my client, briefly, before we begin," asked my lawyer.

Greg and his lawyer nodded their heads and began looking at their documents. My lawyer escorted me out of the conference room we'd been in.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Making sure that Greg sees what he's trying to walk away from," I told him.

"Don't do things like this without telling me first, please," he said. "You're going to ruin this divorce."

"Ruining the divorce means we wouldn't get one, right?" I smirked. "That's what I was aiming for."

"Ruining the divorce means you'd walk away without a pot to piss in," he said. "I want you to walk away comfortable so you can easily pay me."

We went back into the conference room, where Greg and his lawyer waited.

"What are you asking for in this procedure," asked Greg's lawyer. He didn't wait to be introduced or follow any type of protocol; he just attacked.

"I want more than anything else that there not be a procedure," I said. "I want for my husband and I to sit down and talk this out the way we always do when we disagree."

"You're out of your fuckin' mind," he said. "I've seen his evidence and it makes me want to divorce you, and I'm not even married to you."

"The court isn't interested in whether or not you want to divorce her," said my lawyer. "We're going to petition the court for counseling sessions."

"Big mistake," said Greg's lawyer. "My client wants this over quickly. We've been trying to play nice because my client would like to limit the danger to families in the community and my client's young daughter in particular."

"What are you offering," my lawyer asked.

"Two years of spousal support and liberal visitation rights with the youngest child," said Greg's attorney. "If she signs the papers immediately my client is willing to pay moving costs for her to move into the house or apartment of her choice that is appropriate to her new situation, and to continue payments on her car."

"You're on drugs," spat my lawyer. "The initial settlement gave my client the home and custody of the youngest child."

"The situation has eroded further since then," said Greg's attorney.

"So ya dug up more dirt on my client," said my attorney. "It makes no difference. Most of what you have there isn't admissible in court."

"Most of what we have is no longer necessary," smirked Greg's guy. "The DNA alone proves infidelity, and it dates back to very early in the relationship."

The lawyers dickered and attacked each other while Greg and I just sat there. Finally, Greg had put up with all he could stand.

"We're getting nowhere," he said. "I love you Donna. That's what makes this so hard. Especially when you came in here all dolled up. However, the fact is that we don't have a marriage anymore. All of what made us special is gone."

"But Greg, I love you too," I said. "We can start from there and rebuild the rest."

"No Donna, we can't," he said. "In order for us to start, we need more than just love. We need to have trust and respect too. And I can't trust you anymore and you clearly never respected me."

"But Greg," I whined.

"Donna both of us love this little town," he said. "I would hate to tear this town apart in our divorce, but I will, if I have to." He looked me straight in the eye, and I knew that he wasn't lying.

"Donna, I am ready to turn our divorce public if I have to. I will serve and name every single one of the men in that file. Over the years, there are nineteen men involved in this case. Seven out of those nine men are married. Sixteen of those nineteen men have children living at home. I am prepared to sue every one of those men for actions leading to the destruction of our marriage. I am also prepared to have all nineteen of them DNA tested to determine which of them are Sherry and Terry's biological fathers. Then I can sue them to recover the monies spent raising their kids.

Doing that will destroy a lot of families and when the details come out, your reputation in this town will be destroyed. Your days of volunteering for the church and the community groups will be over with. I don't think anyone would even sit near you in the church, let alone work with you on projects."

"But Greg, this isn't fair," I said. "Why do I have to give up everything that's important in my life? Why are you unwilling to work this out?"

"Because there's nothing to work out," he said. "We were never married. You started cheating on me before we ever made it to the church. And I refuse to continue being the patsy. You have all of these guys all over town fucking you whenever and wherever they please, and I'm the one paying to support you. Not only you, but their kids; don't I deserve something for that? I deserve to go ahead and try to start my life over, while I'm still young enough to make something with someone else. Who knows, maybe I should just become a pissed off old bachelor who doesn't trust women."

"Greg, this isn't the answer," I said. "We should be together."

"That's what I wanted," he said. "But it isn't what I got. So I just have to make something out of what I have left. I don't even know why you did this. I haven't got a clue. Was it something I did, or didn't do? Is my dick too small for you? Do you need wild, crazy shit that I can't do done to you? Why Donna?" He looked angry and confused. He needed to know why this had all happened.

"Without you, Honey, it would never have happened," I said. He looked confused.

"Do you remember how things were when we first met? I was shy and had a really low opinion of myself. But you saw something in me, Greg. You treated me like I was the hottest, most special girl we knew. That boosted my confidence and made me feel really special. I got addicted to the way you made me feel. I became addicted to you, Greg. And when we first started having sex, it was strange, because I didn't want to do it.

I wanted to stay my mom and dad's pure little princess. A couple of my girlfriends had told me that if you turned a boy down, he'd just find another girl who'd give him what he wanted. So I had two choices, I could please my parents, and do what I always swore I would. I could stay a virgin until I got married. The problem with that choice was that if my girlfriends were right, I would lose you to some whore who would probably fuck you on your first date.

There was no way I was going to lose you to some whore. Besides, I was sure that we were going to be married someday anyway. So it didn't really matter if we started doing it before we got married or afterwards.

And don't get me wrong, Greg, you were always good to me. You acted like a gentleman. But every time we kissed, every time you touched me, I could tell ... I knew you wanted more. You needed more. And when you wanted it, the decision was already made; you were going to get it. I was going to give it to you. I was going to give it to you just as easily as some whore would. And I knew what those girls were like. My father was a preacher remember. I saw those girls all the time. They wore short skirts and tight blouses to show off their boobs. But you didn't want them; you wanted me, and I was yours. You just had to claim me.

Our kisses became more intense, and your hands wandered all over my puny body and tiny tits. I could feel your heart beating faster, but I never pushed your hands away. Truthfully, I loved the way you made me feel. My heart beat faster too.

But as intense as those kisses were they were nothing compared to the first time you entered me. I was prepared for the pain, but it never came. There was a little snap between my legs. And then you stopped and waited. The look on your face ... You were so concerned about me. That was the moment that my love for you peaked. It has never, ever waned.

I suddenly felt warm inside and very full, and I wanted you. I told you that we would be doing a lot of that, and I meant it. The next day I spent a lot of time looking in the mirror. I wanted to see if there was anything about me that was outwardly different. Were my boobs any bigger? Were my legs a little longer? Was my ass rounder or fatter? It was actually no to all of those.

I also didn't seem more a worldly look in my eyes, and my walk was pretty much the same. There was no difference between the me of that day and my counterpart that had given up the pussy the day before. Not one person that I knew could see the difference. But there was one. There was a very big difference. Your dick going into me was like lighting a fuse and that fire has been burning ever since.

In the very first days, I wanted it so badly that I could barely stand to be away from you. I'm sure you remember night after night of us clawing and tearing at each other like animals. I didn't want to go to restaurants. I didn't want to go to movies. I just wanted to fuck. I couldn't get enough. It was frustrating sometimes, because you could only go for an hour or so before you were spent and falling asleep. And I wanted so much more.

I lived for falling asleep in your arms; nothing could ever match that. It's still that way today. That's why these past few nights that we've been apart have been hell on me.

Anyway, the solution to my issue came a few months later. I love this little town, and I know that you do too. We have more than enough money to move away. We could have been in any large city of our choice years ago.

Back in those days, there were gangs in our town. They weren't like big organized crime gangs, but they were beginning to make waves against each other. One of the gangs was run by Ralph Kramden, the other by a guy named Ed Norton. They hated each other.

Skirmishes between the gangs were escalating. People were getting hurt. I remembered studying detente in school. It was the US and the Soviets coming together for peace talks. I wondered if something like that was possible between the two gangs here in town.

The gangs didn't bother ordinary citizens. They only attacked each other. But they were becoming more and more brazen every day. Of course, none of it really registered with you. You were only home on the weekends. You were working your ass off during the week, at college.