The Invitation

This story is an expansion on a 750 word letter I recently submitted. That letter is included within this story. Sorry not a lot of sex in this story (again, anonymous, I know this is an erotic website). No direct BTB but decisions have consequences.

I hope you enjoy it.

As with all my stories I welcome all comments, positive and negative.

The Invitation

They say the sense of smell is the strongest of the 5 senses. It can bring back memories, even from your childhood.

The fragrance I smelled when I opened my mailbox wasn't from my childhood, but I recognized it immediately. It brought back memories and turned my mood foul. The fragrance was Christian Dior's Dune. I had been my wife's favorite for most of our marriage.

I knew why I was smelling it. She must have sent me an invitation to her upcoming wedding. What a Bitch! Like I want to go see her joining her lover in marriage. I had already seen her joining him in our marital bed, That is why she is now my ex-wife.

I rifled through the mail, setting the bills and junk mail to the side, until I saw it. Of course it was an ornate envelope with my name and address hand calligraphed in deep purple ink, my wife' s favorite color. "The color of Royalty" she would say when anyone asked her. Royalty, huh, she was no closer to royalty than my dog (which she took in the divorce).

Am I bitter? Hell yes I am! She cheated on me with my lifelong nemesis.

I wouldn't even have opened the invitation except that I wanted to know when the wedding was so I could "conveniently" be out of town. July 23 at 3:00 pm, I'm sure I could find somewhere else to be.

I looked at the name of the place where the ceremony was going to be held at. I couldn't believe she was actually getting remarried in a church, not just any church, but the most prestigious and pompous church in the city. How could she even think of getting married in a church after she cheated on me. Oh, but her new husband-to-be was rich, so I guess, "only the best for her."

I ceremoniously threw the invitation into the wastebasket.

I had been in a great mood before I came home. Now my mood was sour. It had been a good day at work. One of the newer office staff, Sabrena, had stopped by my cubicle and we flirted a little. At least I hope she was flirting and not just being nice. This last year and a half had been a tough one, but her attention really boosted my ego and lifted my spirits.

I thought about my ex-wife. We had had 26 years together, 23 as husband and wife. I grabbed a beer out of the fridge, turned on the T.V., and plopped down on the couch.

I'm not sure how long I was sitting there, but it must have been a while. When I went to take the last swig of beer from the bottle the beer was warm. I looked at the bottle and was contemplating grabbing another one when my phone rang. It was my daughter, Shayna.

"Hello, pooh bear." I said.

"Hey Dad, how are you doing?"

"Well, I was doing great until I got home and grabbed the mail."

"So, you must have gotten the invitation today too." She stated.

"Yeah, can you believe it?"

"Sorry Dad. I told her she shouldn't send you one, but she insisted, saying, 'He's got to get over it. He can come to the wedding, if for no other reason than to see his daughter as a bridesmaid.' "

"Well, I have no intention of going. I already threw the invitation into the trash, where it can join her."

"Dad, would you reconsider?"

"Honey, I'm planning on being out of town that weekend." I declared.

"Dad, I really want you to be there. I will need you there for support. You know I don't really want to be in the wedding, but she made me feel guilty. She wanted me to be the maid-of-honor, but I told her, 'No Way!'"

"Shayna, you don't need my support. Brent will be there to support you."

"Dad, what are you going to do next year when Brent and I get married? Are you going to avoid that wedding too?"

"Of course not pooh bear. I can't wait to walk you down the aisle and give you away."

"So, you'll have to be in the same church with them next year. Can't you be the better man and come to this one?"

"I don't think I am the better man, honey." I said to her.

"Well, think about it Dad. I really want you to be there with me."

"I'll think about it." I told her. I would have to think about it. I would have to really think about it. I don't think I can be the better man and put this behind me.

Jill and I were supposed to be married for life. I guess she wanted to trade up rather than stick with the old model.

As I sat there thinking I decided to try to do something that I had done a number of times throughout my life. When I was young I was instructed to write down my problems, putting it down on paper helps. Try to deal with each concern or issue instead of the whole problem.

As I was writing, I decided that probably the fact that Ron (her new husband-to-be) had been my rival since Junior High, made the betrayal even worse. I knew that I wouldn't be able to tell him, face to face, how I felt. So, I decided to write it down. I had no intentions of giving it to him, but it would help me to get it off my chest.

Ron,

Well, I guess the best man has won. Jill has chosen to be with you, for the rest of your life.

Ever since Junior High we've been in competition. You truly were my arch rival. Even in High School we were competing. Jill had been someone we competed for, but she chose someone else. Later, while you were at college, she chose me. But, I guess, even after all these years, you couldn't stand that Jill had married me.

One would think that you would have gotten past it, but no, you had to pursue her, just because she was mine.

Sure I'm pissed at you, but I'm really pissed at my "loving wife", or rather my ex-wife. The fact that she succumbed to your advances showed me that, even after 26 years, I didn't really know her.

When we first started dating we would tell each other all of our hopes, dreams, and even our fears, for hours on end. By the end of our marriage we didn't talk much. Well, I didn't talk much, she did all of the talking,... on and on. I guess I should have been listening more, maybe I would have heard the alarms warning me that she was leaving me.

I keep thinking of all the things about Jill that I used to love. Now you will be the one to experience all that makes her, her.

You'll get to wake up next to her and see her 'au naturel'. You will be the only one to ever see her that way - no make-up, hair in the morning 'bed head' style, and the morning breath. She'll immediately go to the bathroom to brush both her hair and her teeth as well as put on layers of make-up.

You may want to get into the bathroom before her, or else you'll be waiting an hour.

After I had written those words, I set the pages down and decided to go out to the bar to take my mind off my problems. I'm a little ashamed to say that I had to get an Uber to take me home, because I was too drunk to drive.

The next day was Saturday so I slept off my hangover. In fact, I didn't get out of bed until 2:00. I just couldn't find a reason to get up before then.

The smell of my body sweating out the alcohol finally made me get up, for no other reason than to take a shower and grab a bite to eat. I felt better after my shower, so I decided to grab a burger at the pub. I had to Uber back to get my car anyway. The burger helped as well as a little hair of the dog that bit me.

That next week I was still dour. Sabrena had noticed and asked me what was wrong. I told her, "Issues with my ex." She hadn't worked there when all of my troubles started so she didn't know the whole story.

"Kurt," she said. "Lets go grab a bite to eat after work. I hate seeing you so glum."

"I'd hate to have my sour mood rub off on such a happy person." I told her.

"Nonsense, maybe I'm just what you need to get you out of your funk." There it was, her flirting again, or was it totally innocent? I have been out of the game for so long I couldn't be sure of anything.

Well dinner was nice. We sat and talked. She asked me about what had happened with Jill. She could tell, by the emotional answers I was giving, that I still harbored a lot of hate for my ex and her lover.

I apologized for going on about all my issues and asked her about her relationships.

She told me about her marriage to a drunk and then a long term relationship, 6 years, with a guy that decided he didn't want to ever get married. She struggled with that. Did he not love her? Did he want to play the field? She wanted to have children, but couldn't see having them without being married. She needed commitment, an assurance that he was going to be there for the long haul.

As we ate we talked, taking turns discussing all kinds of topics. It was obvious to me that we had a lot in common; politics, religion, family values, vacations and the future.

At the end of our meal we made our way out to the parking lot. Then, without notice, she stepped right up to me and gave me a hug. I was stunned and thought to myself, "Who is this young woman that could show such concern for me?"

As she walked toward her car I just looked at her. She had to be 10 years younger than me, at least. A short petite Latino woman that always seemed to have a smile on her face. I really wanted to learn more of her story, We would have to do this again soon.

Sabrena had certainly changed my mood. As I drove to the apartment I was smiling and singing along with the radio, some country song that I had heard a number of times before.

When I walked into my livingroom I saw the letter I had started. My smile went away, but my mood was definitely better than when I has started the letter. Having a young woman care enough to try to cheer me up definitely helped me to have a new perspective on life. I sat down and picked up the paper and thought about my ex-wife. Our relationship wasn't perfect, no one's is, just ask any couple that has been married for any length of time. There are things that your mate does that, if you focused on them, would drive you crazy. You learn to ignore those things, or at least learn to live with them That made me think about the dinner with Sabrena. I compared Sabrena to Jill. There was something different. Then it dawned on me. I knew what was different. It was the clink, clink, clink of Jill's fork touching her plate. My ex had a habit of tapping her fork on the plate 3 times before taking a bite. I had asked her about it one time. She didn't even consciously know she was doing it. When she took a minute to think about it she came up with a reason why she did it. "To insure all the food is securely on my fork so I don't spill it on my blouse." I guess that's a good reason and I learned to live with it. I even learned to ignore it.

One thing I do know, I'll not miss eating with her.

I put pen to paper and started writing again.

When we were first married I found it cute the way she always touched her fork 3 times to her plate before she eats each bite of food. I have to admit though, it did really annoy me towards the end, hearing that clink, clink, clink all throughout our meals, even when out for dinner, there it was... clink, clink, clink.

That next week at work Sabrena let me know that she enjoyed the time we had spent together. Being polite I said, "So did I. We will have to do that again."

"When?" She asked.

That surprised me a bit, "Uh... how about Friday? If you don't already have a date that is."

"Nope, I'm free for you." She said smiling. There it was again, that flirting or was it just an innocent comment,

That night, when I walked into the door of my apartment, I was whistling a tune. I saw the letter on the coffee table and thought to myself. "Not tonight, I don't even want to think of my ex,"

Friday came and we again found ourselves out enjoying a meal together. I was nervous. It was a Friday night and I was eating a meal, that we had actually planned, with a beautiful woman. I guess it was a date. It had been so long for me that I didn't know what to expect or what was expected.

I did know that this woman in front of me was pleasant to be around and also pleasant to look at. Also, I knew she was interested in learning more about me.

We finished our meal and then just drove around. I know I was nervous, and maybe she was too, but when there was silence in the car neither one of us felt the need to fill it with useless prattle. I appreciated that she was comfortable just sitting in the car together as I drove.

At the end of the night I brought her to her condo. We talked for a little while, then she went inside.

As I walked into my apartment and saw the letter still sitting on my coffee table. I just grinned to myself.

A week went by and on Saturday afternoon Shayna called me and again asked, "Dad, did you send back your RSVP to mom?"

"No honey, I told you I threw the invitation in the trash where it belonged."

"Dad, will you go, for me?"

"Why do you want me to go so badly Shayna? Do you think I want to see that Asshole smirking at me as he marries your mom?"

"Dad, I know you two don't get along, and I get it, but if you don't go it will just reinforce, in his mind, that he has won."

"Honey, I don't know. I don't think your mother really wants me there anyway. I think he probably put her up to sending the invitation."

"Dad, please think about it."

"I will honey, but don't get your hopes up."

We finished our phone call and I was a little depressed. Why couldn't Shayna understand how I felt? I needed to put a smile on my face, so I decided to call Sabrena.

"Hey Sabrena, how are you?"

"I was just thinking about you, wondering if you had plans today?" She asked.

"Well, that makes me feel good that you're thinking about me. I don't have anything planned, do you have something in mind?"

"I want to do a road trip. Are you up for it?"

"Where to?" I asked.

"Let's just hop in my car and see where it takes us."

"Okay, I'm all yours." As soon as I said it I hoped she didn't take that too seriously. I didn't want to scare her by making her think I was moving too fast.

We ended up driving through the countryside looking at the wonderful world around us. We traveled some high mountain roads where the views were breathtaking. We stopped at a "scenic overlook" and walked up to get the best view. The wind was a little chilly so I put my arm around her to share my warmth. She looked up at me and I looked down into her eyes and kissed her. It wasn't a long passionate kiss, rather one that said, "I like you."

It was the first time we kissed. I had been hesitant to do anything. I didn't want to scare this lovely woman away, and also it had been almost 3 decades since I had kissed anyone other than my ex. She smiled and hugged me back, that was a good sign. We walked arm in arm.

Over the last few weeks we had talked about our past relationships. She had married in her early 20's a drunk that had become abusive. "Luckily," she said. "I saw early on that he wouldn't give up drinking. So I made a conscious decision not to have any children with him. I didn't want to bring them up with an abusive drunk as a father."

We discussed my divorce again. She couldn't believe that after all those years together, my ex decided that I wasn't good or rich enough.

We walked along and then I talked about my daughter. When I mentioned that she was 22 she said, "Oh, she's 10 years younger than I am."

"Sabrena is 32!!" I thought to myself. "What the hell am I doing?? I'm 16 years older than she is." So, I asked her. "Sabrena, I don't know if you realize it, but I'm 48 years old. Why would you want to hang out with an old guy like me?"

She looked at me and gave me a look that could kill. Then she said, "Kurt, if you can't tell that I like you, and that your age means nothing to me, then maybe I don't know you at all. Maybe you should find someone thats 'old enough' (doing the finger air quotes) so that I won't be wasting either of our time."

I looked at her. She had moved a bit away from me. "I blew it." I said to myself as I sat down on a rock bench nearby. "Why am I so stupid? I have a good thing going with someone that makes me happy and I have to go and say something to fuck it up."

I looked over at her. She was turned away, but I could tell she was crying.

I got up and approached her, I hesitantly placed my hands on her shoulders and pressed my body gently to her back.

"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot I guess I just can't believe a gorgeous woman would want to spend time with me. I'm not movie star handsome, far from it. I'm barely average."

She turned her head slightly and I could see the tears still streaming down her face.

"Sabrena, I know it is early in our relationship, but I'm developing strong feelings for you. I guess I was just trying to guard against getting my heart broken again."

She turned around and looked at me. "You don't think I'm scared? My ex-husband was an abusive drunk. He wasn't like that before I married him, at least I didn't see it. Then I was in a relationship with a guy that wouldn't commit. I think you are different and I thought we were creating something special. I am not into one night stands. Having a relationship with someone that I like, and care for, is what I've been searching for. I thought I found that guy, but if our age difference is all you can think about then maybe we shouldn't even be friends."

I looked at her. The little make-up she wore was smudged, but she was the most beautiful woman in the world to me. I grabbed her gently, pulling her to my chest. Then after a light hug I pulled away a little bit. That is when I kissed her again, only this time passionately, with all of me.

She soon reciprocated and we stood there making out with the sun shining down upon us. We must have been there quite a while, because when we finally stopped kissing I noticed that some storm clouds were rolling in.

I looked at Sabrena and said, "Those clouds look kind of ominous. We'd better head back. In fact, we'd better skip the scenic route back and hit the highway."

"She looked at me and said, "Can I interest you in a home cooked, authentic, Mexican dinner when we get back?"

"That sounds great, but only if you let me help."

"Well, I have never had a man in my kitchen before, but if you're willing. I'm willing to take the chance,"

I was glad, and a bit surprised that neither of her two past relationships helped her in the kitchen. Was that a cultural thing, I wondered?

On the trip back I noticed something else about Sabrena that was different than Jill. It was something good and it made me smile. I would have to put this my letter to the Asshole.

Dinner was great and, although I think she felt a little awkward with me helping out, we were soon prepping like a well oiled machine. To say the food tasted great would be an understatement. Authentic was definitely better, than the supposed "authentic" food you buy in the grocery store or even the restaurants.

She told me that the recipes and prep had been handed down from grandmother to granddaughter for generations. That amazed me, I couldn't think of anything that my ancestors had passed down, except my genes of course.

We ended the night on the couch with more kissing and hugging. It felt so good to have a woman's body so close to mine. We didn't take it any further though. I think we were both still gun shy and I know I didn't want to rush things. I wanted to grow our relationship.

That night when I got home I went right to the letter. When I had started the letter I wasn't sure if I would send it. I just needed to get things off my chest. Now I still wasn't sure, but I was leaning toward sending it.

The letter was therapeutic, and I was able to get rid of some anger, so I kept it on the coffee table to write my thoughts down when I found I had something I wanted to say. Tonight I had something to say.