The Lesson

"Get dressed," I said.

***

My lawyer met us at the house at nine-thirty that night. Numbly, knowing she had no recourse, Alexis signed the document that officially dissolved our marriage. Then she signed another that stated she would seek no civil action against me, and had no claim whatsoever to my estate.

But I was not completely heartless toward the wife who had betrayed me. As I showed her to the door, a taxi waiting outside, I handed my former wife a check for ten thousand dollars. She gave me tentative look as she slowly took it.

"I never want to see you again," I said, holding back my emotions. "Go away. Go back home, move someplace else, I don't care. But go away."

Alexis trembled, eyes welling once more. She tried to reach for me, but I blocked her hand.

"I still love you," she said emotionally.

I stared back. "But I don't love you, Alexis," I said. "I did, once. You ruined that."

My former wife stared at me, trying not to cry. But with a sudden, choking sob, she ran to the cab and jerked the door open. I stared after the retreating sedan as it slowly coasted away. I took a deep breath, let it out.

"I'm sorry, Dan," came my lawyer's voice as he stepped up beside me. "I thought she was a great gal."

I nodded. "Yeah, so did I." Then I turned and headed back into the house.

***

I went back to work, immersed myself in the operations of my business. My employees, investment partners, and friends all offered their consolations. A few jokingly asked me if I had Alexis' phone number. I laughed them off. I never did find out who, exactly, my wife had fucked while she was with me. I didn't really care to.

It took several months, but I got over the pain of my divorce. And when I did . . . .

Emily had been waiting patiently for me since that day in the office, when she had been my accomplice in my plot of revenge against my wife. She remained my secretary, and never mentioned the events of that afternoon, even though, from time to time, I caught her giving me wistful, longing looks.

And I never stopped thinking about her. Maybe Emily was a slender little imp, sexy and also tomboyish, but I could not deny that I felt something deep and true for her. She had always been there, not just as my secretary, but as my friend. I knew she'd had her chances for better jobs, but she had never taken them. And I finally realized why.

She was in love with me, and had always been.

"Emily," I said into the intercom of the inter-office phone one day. "Could you come in here for a moment? I need you to take some dictation."

A moment later, Emily appeared, professional in her demeanor. She sat down in one of the padded chairs before my desk, crossing her legs and settling her steno pad upon her knee. She gave me an expectant look, behind which I could sense something else . . . something primal and passionate and incredibly arousing.

"To Whom It May Concern," I said, leaning back in my desk chair. "Let it be known that Daniel S. Vansen is willing to proclaim his love for the one woman in his life who has always been there for him . . . ."

Emily scribbled as she wrote quickly in shorthand, then faltered. She jerked her head up, staring at me, suddenly breathless. Her face colored, and her breathing became deep and labored. Her hazel eyes stared at me, wide and round and wet.

"M-Mr. Vansen?" she asked in a soft little voice.

I looked to her, smiling. "You know, Emily," I said. "You're really going to have start calling me Daniel. Especially if you're going to be my wife."

She gasped, looking startled. She worked her mouth like a goldfish taken out of its bowl. "W-w-w-wife?" she stammered.

I just smiled.

Emily slowly grinned, her sexy, pink lips stretching wide. With an excited cry, she lurched up from her chair and scrambled across my desk, grabbing me and sliding onto my lap, straddling me. She cried and laughed and hugged me tightly, pressing her mouth to mine. She moaned desperately as she kissed me.

"Oh, God, if that's your way of proposing—"

"It is," I said, staring at my bouncy, girlish secretary. Almost thirty, and she looked and acted like a giggling, sixteen-year-old cheerleader. Damn, was she sexy!

Emily cried, shaking, kissing me passionately as she tugged on my clothes. "Oh, God, Daniel," she muttered, trembling with excitement and arousal. "The only thing I can say is, yes! Yes! Yes!"

Well, Emily cried out that same impassioned word quite often that afternoon, enough that pretty much everyone in the entire warehouse knew what was going on. Not that Emily really cared as she bounced up and down on my pole, making my desk chair creak and moan as she came over and over. She finally hopped off me and sucked my pussy-flavored penis, gulping down my cum as it spurted wildly in my mouth. Then she begged me to fuck her some more.

Emily and I got married exactly one year later, on the anniversary of the day that I proposed to her. By then, she was already three months pregnant, and she gave birth to our baby boy Nathan after a mere five hours of labor.

The transition of secretary to wife was pretty easy for Emily; she knew a lot about my business as it was, and fell easily into the role of business partner. In a strange sort of twist, Emily drew up a prenuptial contract that proved to me that she was not after my money. She never had been. She had always just wanted me.

Still, I shower her with gifts, spoil her with vacations. Emily is an enthusiastic and energetic lover, who can't go a single day without at least some form of sex. She told me that, the entire time she was my secretary, more than two years, she never had a boyfriend. She said she was waiting for me, and had known, through a Tarot reading, that I was the one for her.

Mysticism aside, I could not be happier with my eager wife. Even now, at thirty-five, Emily looks at least ten years younger. She is simply one of those women who is naturally youthful and energetic. Hell, sometimes her breathless lovemaking is too much for me.

Our children, Nathan and Nicole, are now seven and four years old. We love our children deeply, and dote on them constantly. I am a happy man, with a full and satisfied life: a loving, horny wife, two happy, healthy children, and a lucrative, successful business. I have more than I could want.

As for Alexis . . . .

My ex-wife went back home for a while, lived with her mother as she returned to stripping. About a year after our divorce, I happened to catch, quite by accident, a twenty-second clip on an adult porn site that featured Alexis getting fucked in the ass by a well-hung black guy. Over the course of the following couple of years, I found more clips of my ex-wife on a variety of adult websites. I watched her receiving anal and vaginal creampies, facials, and swallowing cum over and over. The scenes, at times, aroused me, and at times made me depressed.

Emily saw some of the clips (she and I watched porn together now and then), and understood what I felt. She repeatedly told me that it wasn't my fault that Alexis had become such a slut. Whatever happened to Alexis, she said, it was all her doing.

I finally emailed my ex-wife, once 'Alexis Sweet' got her own website that featured weekly updates of her in a new porno scene, and scheduled video-chat times in which she would strip down and masturbate on camera.

It was a while before she emailed me back. I was actually surprised when she did.

"Daniel,

I never thought I would hear from you again. I almost wish I wouldn't, especially not like this. Yes, I'm an Internet slut. Maybe that sounds harsh, but I am what I am. I'm enjoying it, I really am. Maybe you didn't want to hear that, maybe you figured I was on drugs all the time and doing this to get my fix. But, to be honest, I love it, and the only drugs I do are nicotine and little alcohol. I love every fucking second of what I do. This is what I am, and I've finally accepted it. Some girls were just born to be sluts, I guess.

I'm glad you're happy with Emily. I can't say I'm surprised you married her. I saw the way you looked at her that day, and it was pretty damn obvious to me that she wasn't just hot for you, she was in love. I wish you both the best.

Do me a favor, Daniel. Don't email me again. I love you, and I will always love you. No other man on the planet could take your place in my heart. You were my one and only husband, and I will never get married again. I know I ruined a perfect marriage, but in a strange sort of way, I realize it had to happen that way. Not that I'm glad I hurt you. I think about that every day, and sometimes it makes me cry. But now that I know you're with someone who truly loves you, and you're happy, makes me feel a little better. I don't cry so much anymore.

Please, my Baby, my Husband. Don't contact me again. I am glad you did, just so I could tell you all this, but I don't want to hear from you again. You have your life, and I have mine, and, as they say, never the twain shall meet. We're both happy, and let's just leave it at that.

Good-bye, Daniel. And, as strange as it sounds, thank you."

Emily read that message with me, looking over my shoulder. My wife gave me a small smile.

"See?" she said. "It all worked out."

I smiled back. Indeed it did.

-finis-