The Seven Deadly Sins: Sloth

The Seven Deadly Sins - SLOTH

by Vandemonium1

Edited by CreativityTakesCourage

Oh boy, this one was a toughie. How do you fit the deadly sin sloth into a LW story?

If you are someone who believes that a cheating wife should be forgiven for just about anything, for fuck's sake stop reading now!

No pickaxe handles were damaged in the making of this story. That's what you get for buying quality hickory.

Thanks to James M and Charlie for the review and suggestions. Some of which are included below. Thanks also to Heffay and others for spurring me on to finish this story and the series.

This is a long one, so a little info to help you judge if you'll like it or not. If you liked my 'Deafening Silence' and my 'When First We Practice to ... Blackmail', you should like this one. It scores around 4/5 pickaxe handles on the BTBometer.

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CHAPTER 1

Jane lay there as Peter pounded into her from above, pretending, for his sake, and hers, to enjoy what he was doing. 'Thrash your head from side to side, girl, that's what you normally do', she said to herself. She normally loved what they did together but today was different. How different was demonstrated clearly to her when on one of her head turns she spied her husband's side of the bed. The familiar sight of Dave's bedside table, complete with his dress watch and other paraphernalia, caused her to freeze.

Mistaking her actions for an orgasm, Peter did what he'd always done, well, what he'd learned over the last six months anyway, and that was that she loved oral sex after her first vaginal orgasm. His mantra from his first marriage had been, 'happy wife, happy life', so he was satisfied with this routine. Sliding his cock out, he slid his body down the bed and his tongue down Jane's body. With no more preamble, he began lashing at her clit with his tongue. Experience told him that after a couple of minutes thrashing, she would clamp his head between her exquisite thighs. At the end of her thrashing, he'd mount her again and concentrate on his release. Sometimes Jane came for a third time, sometimes she didn't, but he was always so worked up by then, he had little control left.

Only this time was different. Jane's stillness shouted a warning to Peter. He raised his head and looked at Jane's face. Her eyes were focused on the side of the bed and tears were streaming down her cheeks. He was alarmed.

"What's the matter, darling? Is it because this is the first time in his bed?"

Jane, who hadn't noticed Peter stop what she normally loved, continued sobbing uncontrollably. Peter immediately shuffled back up the bed and wrapped her in his arms, waiting for her to calm down.

"No, Peter, it's not that. It's just that I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing. I've loved him for twenty years, and... well, it just doesn't seem like he's done anything wrong. And I don't want to risk losing my kids."

Peter sighed. This was all familiar territory.

"We've been through all this, darling. The guy is a workaholic. When does he get home? After seven every night? Then he works just about every Saturday. And for what? Look around you. He's been working for twenty years, had his own business for five, and you're living in this little house, with barely enough money to scrape by. A beautiful forty-year-old woman like you deserves better. You deserve what I can give you. If you like, I can speak to my lawyers again to see if it's vital we stay in this house. If it brings back bad memories, maybe we can move to mine."

"No! Your lawyers were right. By agreeing to stay in the children's family home, we maximise the chances of me being given primary custody of them. If I move to your mansion, Dave will stay here, and the kids may choose to stay with him, you know, for familiarity. We can't rely on your plan of paralysing his business and keeping him penniless until the custody case. I can't lose my children.

"Besides, the reason he chucked in his well-paid job and started the business was because I nagged him to. I wanted him to make something of his life. It wasn't his fault that the GFC hit just after he started, and he had to lay off some staff and do more of the work himself. He works long hours because he's doing the work of three. He's sure the economy is just about to turn, though, and is investing so he hits the ground running when it does. Like I said, he doesn't deserve what we're doing to him."

Peter inhaled slowly and deeply. Jane was as skittish as a racehorse, and he realised he needed to be patient with her. "Maybe not, darling, but I explained why it had to be done this way. Trust my lawyers, they're the best that money can buy. The kids are due back in an hour. We'll sit them down and explain that you've fallen out of love with their father. They'll understand. I'm sure they have friends whose parents divorced.

"Dave will be served the divorce papers and restraining orders when he lands from his business trip. I made sure they didn't use anything sexual as the reason for the restraining order, like we discussed, just the hint that he smacked the kids sometimes. It only lasts for a month but that should be long enough to give the kids time to come to terms with the new reality.

"By freezing the company bank accounts we achieve two things. The first is so he looks like he can't afford to be given custody and the second is to keep him broke to limit his access to quality legal advice. It can all be overturned but I'm sure it will take at least a month to unravel. He won't starve. He can apply to the courts to be granted a modest wage and working capital for the business. We'll release everything once custody is awarded to you. Then he can have the house, the business, and everything else, while you and the kids move in with me."

Peter kept his voice low and soothing. He'd explained all his lawyers' intended manoeuvrings to Jane before, more than once, but it was clear she needed to hear them and his reassurances again.

"The only thing that will scupper those plans and make us play hardball for longer is if he wants equal custody. I will tolerate him picking up the kids once or twice a month, but I want them to look upon me as a father figure and my house as their home, not somewhere to live for the week. When they see what I can buy them, I'm sure they'll love it."

"I don't know, Pete, he lives for those kids. He'll be devastated. Maybe we should..."

"No, Jane. We've been through all this. It was part of the deal, remember? He'll be so hamstrung, that in the end, he will grasp at any straw we throw him."

Jane still looked very downcast, so Peter threw in the reserves.

"Look, Jane. Dave will be upset for a month or so, then, when he realises its business as normal again, and he can see his kids, he'll bounce back. Meanwhile, you'll be treated like you deserve. The friends of mine you've met love you, and the rest will as well. I'm sure my kids will adopt you, and even if they don't, they're grown up now. Your friends will swallow the story that you and Dave fell out of love, and for those that don't, we can always hint that Dave fooled around on you. It's all covered."

They held each other until it was time to shower and face the children when they returned from school. To distract themselves, they talked about where they'd met, a mere year and a half prior. Peter was a benefactor and member of the board of the museum where Jane worked as a tour guide. For Peter it was love at first sight and, being able to afford anything he wanted, just had to have her.

Once the children returned from school and were seated, Peter did most of the talking. To say the children took it badly was an understatement. The story of falling out of love didn't really wash, and they demanded to see their father, not fully understanding the concept of the restraining order. Chloe, at thirteen and the youngest, kept asking what her father had done wrong. The only way Jane mentally got through it was to look around at her humble home, then imagine the widower's sixteen-room mansion on its two acres of manicured gardens that she'd be moving to shortly.

They remained seated in the lounge after the children had stormed off to their rooms. Jane winced when a text arrived to say that Dave's plane had landed. Relieved when the text came from the lawyers to say the papers had been served, they sat quietly as the time came and went for Dave to show up if he was going to ignore the restraining order. They were just beginning to relax, especially Jane, when the sound of jangling keys followed almost instantly by thunderous knocking at the door made them both jolt. They concluded Dave must have stopped to read the papers thoroughly and knew he was in violation of the order.

The knocking ceased and Jane held her breath, hoping the worst was over. After a short silence, his frantic yells demanding to see his kids coupled with more pounding on the front door filled the room and filtered through to the children in their respective bedrooms. It took all of their combined efforts to stop Bart, Deb, and Chloe from getting past them to the door. It was by far the most difficult thing Jane had ever had to do, but she knew it was the best thing in the long run.

Peter sent a prearranged text to his legal team and within minutes, Bart, looking out the window, announced the police had shown up. He turned from the window and looked at his mother with disgust before stomping off to his room. The girls followed suit, both in tears.

Five minutes later, the police left with Dave. Two hours later, over a near silent dinner, the pounding on the door and yelling to see the kids restarted. Once again, the police were called, with Dave being led to the paddy-wagon in handcuffs this time. The kids were distraught and abandoned their meals. All three raced to their rooms, slamming their doors. Jane wasn't much better off. They only relaxed when Peter's lawyer rang to say Dave had been gaoled overnight for contempt of court.

The next day, no one was interested in any sort of outing, so they stayed at home. Peter noticed the small lawn needed mowing, so called his gardener to come and do it.

Just after lunch, with the kids packed off to Jane's sister's house, shadowed by one of Pete's lawyers, the banging and shouting at the door resumed. This time, Jane whimpered and hid, obviously distraught at the sounds of her soon-to-be ex-husband's pain. Once again, the phone call was made, and the police hauled the screaming man away. This time the feedback from the lawyers was that Dave was in gaol until he could convince a judge he would no longer violate the restraining order. Three days later, they braced when told Dave had been released, but nothing happened.

Despite the clout his legal team had, Peter and Jane couldn't get a custody court date within three months, so settled in for the long wait. The children totally ignored them both while their dad was incarcerated, and afterward only spoke to their mother when absolutely necessary. They pretty much ignored Peter entirely. It was as if he were invisible. Dinner was an uncomfortable affair most days with monosyllabic answers to every question Jane put to the children and silence when Peter spoke. Peter promised Jane it would pass.

With Bart, at seventeen, about to get his licence, Peter brought several catalogues home, displaying a variety of top-of-the-range cars. The next day, Jane reported finding them in the bin.

Offers to buy Deb and Chloe ponies went unheeded. Peter and Jane hunkered down to wait them out.

Peter waited until Dave had been released for a few days before propositioning Jane for sex. He was rebuffed. The next day a luxury king-sized bed was delivered, but there was still no nookie for Peter. When pressed, Jane told Peter she was too worried about Dave to relax. Peter set his lawyers to work for a status report on his rival. Unfortunately, they gave their report when both he and Jane were in the office signing documents. That was two weeks after Dave was released and Jane had concluded he was no longer a threat. Perhaps she could convince Peter to lift the restraining order. It would look better to friends and family if there was no order in place. The battle for the moral high ground had begun.

In a nutshell, Peter's lawyers reported, Dave had disappeared. He hadn't applied to the courts for either a living allowance or access to limited business funds. With no other surviving family— Dave was an orphan— Jane hadn't a clue where he'd gone. Calls to mutual friends didn't reveal any leads. Calls to the receptionist at his work resulted in the young girl, whom Jane until now had considered a friend, virtually spitting down the phone at her. Peter showed no interest in helping to keep Dave's business going, saying they didn't need it. More troubling to Peter was the fact that Dave hadn't signed any of the legal documents which would markedly slow the process down.

Peter was getting worried about Jane's health. She wasn't eating properly, and her inner glow, which had been what drew his attention in the first place, was sadly absent. In the end, he convinced her they should go away for a week. Her parents were due for a visit from interstate the following weekend: they would spend the Saturday and Sunday together, then Jane would ask them to look after the kids while she and Peter escaped for some much-needed relaxation.

That reminded Jane. She had to have an uncomfortable conversation with her parents. They'd always looked on Dave as the son they'd never had. This would take some very careful spin. Over two hours, they rehearsed the official story. She and Dave had grown apart and separated. Peter was a friend who was helping her through it, and somewhere along the line, after the split, they'd become more than friends.

The phone call was made to the expected disappointment, and Jane's parents agreed to stay for the week. Jane couldn't really relax until after a long conversation with all the children convinced them that talking to Nan and Pop about the day of the serving would be in no one's interest.

Decision made, Jane visibly relaxed and started to daydream about their week-long escape. Peter smiled, knowing he'd called the shots well. He chartered a private Lear to fly them to Phuket the following Monday. That night, Jane felt relaxed enough to accede to Peter's request for sex, but insisted they make no noise. The need for silence somewhat dampened Peter's enjoyment of the interlude.

The next day, a Wednesday, Jane decided to resume her exercise regime, so she looked her best for Peter while wearing a bikini on the beach or by the pool. She knew Peter, fifteen years her senior, had been attracted by her youth and beauty. She also suspected that any prolonged withholding of bedroom fun might lead him to slacken in his resolve. She'd nailed her colours to Peter's mast and him dropping her now would be an absolute disaster, so she resolved to screw his brains out in Phuket, and maybe even in the private plane flying them there.

As it was a nice day, one of the last in late autumn, she decided to walk around the local park. Her job as a tour guide paid a pittance compared to what Peter was worth, so she'd resigned and was now trying to become what she'd always wanted to be - an attentive stay-at-home mum.

The park gently sloped up to one corner, had lawns and children's play equipment in the centre, and a war memorial garden with a trimmed hedge on the downhill side. At different times of the year, local and European flowers were showcased in different sections. What attracted Jane, though, was the path that ran almost along the boundary. A total of about six hundred metres, it provided different inclines to get the heart pumping and the calories burning. She'd pushed all the children around it when they were younger, and she was working to regain her figure. She and Dave had... No. She wasn't going to spoil her day by remembering the times she and her husband had stopped in a certain grove of trees for some bonding time while walking back from various restaurants after dark.

The only downside for the last few years was that some homeless people, known locally as winos, had taken up residence. They camped near the top corner, probably due to the thick bushes there and the shelter provided by the high enclosing wall on two sides of the park. You could see them sometimes hanging around the picnickers, hoping to be the first ones to the bins if any food was discarded. There had been a few incidents lately; mainly the bums fighting amongst themselves. The police moved them on sometimes, but they always drifted back. Jane herself never paid them much mind. It suited her exercise routine to walk rapidly up the hill and past that corner before relaxing on the downhill run.

There were three or four of them today, sitting around one of the benches; obligatory brown paper wrapped bottles beside them. She'd become very good at not seeing them; most people had. Now, she fixed her gaze centre-right and hastened past them. At one time, she'd wondered how they got that way, but since then her mind had focused on jealously guarding the comfortable lifestyle she and Dave had earned and shied away from them. To avoid thinking along those lines, Jane began daydreaming of her future, including a huge house with a maid and gardener. Trips abroad. Nice cars and no need to rush to work. Yes, she'd finally arrived where she belonged. If only thoughts of selling out Dave and the annoying voice in her head reminding her of her own morals would leave her the hell alone.

Entering the downhill slope, her mind drifted to what she'd already started telling friends, both her own and the ones she shared with Dave. It was a variant of the 'she and Dave drifted apart, and Peter was just a friend' story. The fact that Dave had disappeared might help there. No discrepancies in the story. A few dinner parties at an upscale mansion and they would soon forget her former life. If worse came to worst, Peter had plenty of friends who had already welcomed her.

Then there were Peter's children. Fiona was twenty-four, married to Mike who was a stockbroker. They had a little girl of their own. She'd been a little cool toward Jane on the two occasions they'd met. Jane could understand that. In Fiona's mind, Jane was being compared with Fiona's mother; taken by cancer ten years prior. Brent was twenty-two and a typical spoiled rich kid. Still living at home; never holding a job for long, and generally living irresponsibly. His attitude was very much take-it-or-leave-it with Jane.

Jane stopped daydreaming when she neared the top corner again; on alert. The group of winos had broken up. One was still seated, two had wandered away, and the fourth was digging through one of the bins for a late breakfast. Jane forced her peripheral vision to keep tabs on the two remaining. Experience told her they were harmless in groups but were more likely to approach her for a handout when alone.

Something about the one on the seat drew her attention. Jane never knew what it was. She turned her head directly toward him. The fact his eyes were downcast allowed her glance to linger longer.

Although he wore the almost obligatory moth-eaten army surplus greatcoat, his pants and shoes were in better condition than his bench-mate's. His shoulders sloped down defeatedly; his hands, clad in fingerless woollen mittens, rested on his lap. A blanket roll lay on the ground beneath him, clamped between his feet for protection. A paper-wrapped bottle was also between his legs. He wore no hat, and his hair was unruly; having not seen a comb for many days. His face was dirty and unshaven, and a large bruise extended from his left cheek to that eye. The eyes, what Jane could see of them were hollow and unblinking, tears trickling down both cheeks, glistening in the morning sun.