The Way You Look Tonight Ch. 03

There's not that much sex in this chapter. So, if that's what you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place. There will be one final chapter following this one. It may take me a while to post it, since I am trying to balance work and vacation right now. Thanks for hanging in there with the story.

In Chapter 2, Candice began her last two years of college at N.A.U. in pursuit of her Chemistry degree. She managed to put her past life as a sex-worker behind her. Shortly after starting school, Candice met Nicholas Faggioli, and married him after graduation. This chapter tells of Candice's married life with Nicholas and her problems that resurfaced from her past. Candice will now quickly flip through the pages of time, as she did with the photo album in that cold lonely hotel room on the eve of her daughter's wedding.

_____

Candice

After our brief honeymoon at the lake, we fell into a very comfortable marital routine of work and school. We were busy, but always made time for each other. By the end of the spring of 1993, I had my Master's Degree in Chemistry and began working full-time at the chemical R&D company that had originally hired me as a part-timer. Once I received my graduate degree, I got a fairly sizable increase in pay plus benefits. Nicky continued to work at the local high school teaching and coaching varsity baseball. Since I was doing so well, he started going to grad school at night, getting his M.B.A. Within two years, Nicky was done with his schooling, and we were ready to buy a house. It was bittersweet, as we didn't want to leave Momma and Papa. But we were really only several blocks away from them.

Our son, Mickey Mackay Faggioli was born in late 1993, and our daughter Faith O'Keefe Faggioli made her entrance in 1995. We had such fun raising our kids. And with Momma and Papa, we had a built-in and loving day-care service. Nicky and I decided that we should both work to pursue our professional passions and to maintain a lifestyle to which we aspired. Mickey followed his father into baseball. He's now playing professionally for the AA affiliate of the New Amsterdam Federals, our local major league team. Faith is away at medical school. She took after me in that department.

You might find this trite and hokey, but Nicky and I really did have a fairy tale life. He worshiped the ground on which I walked and absolutely lived for our children. An amazing father in every way, Nicky, despite his busy schedule, always made time for the kids, and it wasn't just at the important events, like Little League games and dance recitals. He made sure that as a family we consistently did things together; things like camping, fishing, going to ball games, or even just to the movies. I was never a golf or football widow, as Saturdays and Sundays were always spent together as a family, unless, of course, Nicky or Mickey had baseball games or practice.

Nicky and I kept ourselves in really good shape. He and I would workout nearly every day. At 46, he was still rock-solid and turning into quite the middle-aged hunk. Whenever we went to parties or social events, the gals really looked Nicky over. But he was always all mine. He never gave me any cause for jealousy. The only woman who ever gave me cause for concern was a woman by the name of Beatrice Ocean. She was the sole owner of the New Amsterdam Federals. Yes, that's the organization that our son Mickey is playing for. We'll talk more about Ms. Ocean later on.

Although a virgin before we got engaged, Nicky was a dynamo in bed. The man had these sexual talents that fulfilled me in every way. Lovemaking was never mechanical, never plain-vanilla, but always exciting,even after all this time. Did we make love seven days a week, every week? No. Like every other married couple, things did slow down a bit. But it came down to a normal pace. I never counted how many times a week it happened. Some weeks it was a lot, some a little. Whatever the frequency, we were both very sated lovers, and after twenty-three years of marriage, still very much in love with each other.

Every few weeks we went up to Lake Ostego and had some alone time. Those weekends were so special. Nicky would light a fire to get the cabin all nice and cozy. He would slowly undress me and carry me over to the fire, putting me face down on the rug. These sessions always started the same way.

He would start off teasing my mouth, my neck, and behind my ears with his tongue. After settling me down on the rug on my tummy, he would pour warm baby oil on my back, butt, and legs. And then slowly, and softly, he would massage the oil into my skin, paying special attention to my feet, inner thighs, and ass. He had this way of massaging my butt with two hands that would drive me to orgasm every time. After getting my butt good and oiled up, he played with my ass, running his fingers rhythmically from my clit up to my butt hole and back down again. This would take me near the brink but never actually over the edge. Nicky knew it, and would tease me this way for quite some time until I begged him to give me release. When he knew I was at my boiling point, he placed his palms on both my butt cheeks. And then he repeatedly pulled my cheeks apart and rubbed them together, moving slowly, then faster and faster. With each rub of my ass, his two thumbs would linger right over my asshole. I could feel the pressure building from my labia opening and closing. There was just something about the way he did that. My orgasms would be so strong, and yet he didn't even need to penetrate me. God, he could make my body sing. Afterward he would mount me in the missionary position and slow-fuck me by the fire until we both cried out with pleasure.

Nicky used to tell me that I was his miracle; that ours was a true love story. He insisted that he always felt he got the better end of the bargain, and that he was never really good enough for me. He thought that one day I would leave him and trade him in for a "better model," as he put it. This was something that, for some reason, he feared deeply, even though I never gave him any reason whatsoever to doubt my fidelity or my love for him.

Although I never did share my past with Nicky as Momma had suggested, I always felt that he rescued me, contrary to what he believed. Only God knows where I would have ended up if Nicky hadn't come into my life. I always felt, and still do feel, that I was a stray that he found on the street, and that he wanted to take care of me. How many times, when Nicky was feeling insecure about me, had I wanted to tell him my own story. I only wish that I had. It could have avoided a lot of pain and heartache later on.

Now, don't go getting the idea that we didn't have the problems that normal couples experience. We were regular people. We had illness, financial ups and downs, disagreements about things like money, and issues that affected the children. But these are all the normal vicissitudes of life. The thing you should take from this is that through all those problems and challenges, Nicky never raised his voice, never picked a fight with me, and never walked out on me in anger. And he had a firm rule: never go to bed angry at each other. It worked for us. I never desired any other kind of life or any other man. After nearly twenty-four years, I was just as in love with him as the day I met him in college at the library.

Our finances prospered. In 2002, Nicky got a job as a head baseball coach at a nearby Division 1 college. Year after year Nicky would coach a winning baseball team. He began to get a national reputation. And he had a special way with pitchers. He had several that were early round draft picks, who ended up making it into the major leagues. The big clubs all recognized that Nicky had a talent for coaching pitchers. Over the years since 2002, he had been offered minor league coaching jobs. But he turned them down because he didn't want to be on the road without me and the kids. During that time, he made some very important connections with Beatrice Ocean and the management of the New Amsterdam Federals. They constantly courted him for a minor league job. The lure was great, but in the end, he decided he couldn't be that far from us for so long during the baseball season.

I began to teach some chemistry classes in the evenings at a local college. In 2010, I received my Ph. D. in Chemistry, another dream of mine fulfilled. (Yeah, I know what your thinking...The whore with a Ph. D. How weird is that?) Our income increased significantly, and we were able to invest our money. Eventually we purchased two gyms at the height of the physical fitness craze. And the income from them, plus our salaries, guaranteed a very comfortable life.

So, let's fast forward to the fall of 2015. Things had been going great for us, just as I had described for the years prior. The only downer was that Momma passed in 2007, and Papa followed in 2008. None of us took it well, and Nicky went into a bit of a depression for a while. But we got each other through it.

I was doing really well in my job, rising to the level of Senior Vice President of Research and Development. On an early Thursday afternoon in mid-September, I was sitting at my desk when the gal from the mail room walked in with a special delivery envelope for me, marked "personal and confidential." I immediately opened it, thinking it had something to do with one of my projects What I found shook me to my very core, and would change my life.

There were pictures. There were many pictures. And they were all of me when I worked at Jilly's at age nineteen. Do I need to describe them for you? Unless you skipped the first two chapters of this story, you can guess what kind of pictures they were. All of the sex acts that I described in which I had participated were there; every position, every type of act, even the ones that are too gross to mention now. I ran into the bathroom and vomited everything I had eaten for lunch.

After I composed myself as best I could, I went back to the envelope and found a note. It was from a manager who works down in Accounting, Guy Gisborne. Guy joined the company two years ago. The note instructed me to meet him at The Crooner Bar & Grill down on Main and Monroe Streets.

Guy, though very handsome, had a sly, slick way about him. He had been trying to get into my panties since he joined the company. When I first met him, I found something oddly familiar about him. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. He wasn't a bad looking guy, but this one thing that kept gnawing at me kind of turned me off. Before I really got to know what a slime ball he was, I danced with him at the company Christmas party last year. While we were slow dancing, he pressed himself into me and I could feel his erection against my leg. He did this right in front of Nicky. I was about to tell Nicky, when he backed off and the music stopped. From that moment on, he continued to make passes at me. I found out that he had quite a reputation, trying to bed as many of the married ladies who worked for him as he possibly could. And rumor had it that he was quite successful at it. At one point recently, I had to tell him sternly to get lost or I would complain to Human Resources. He finally backed off. But now this.

After another run into the bathroom and more heaving, I had a panic attack right there in my office, breaking out in a cold sweat and turning white as a ghost. Wild thoughts started running through my head. "Should I ignore it? Should I call Nicky and tell him the whole story now? What about my boss?"

The wisest course would have been to call Nicky. But I was deeply afraid that my Saint Nicholas would have dumped our entire marriage into the trash heap, even after all those years. Of course, now I know he would never have done that. Why didn't I listen to Momma on that Christmas Eve so long ago and tell Nicky the whole story?

Somehow, I got myself together and headed out to the bar, telling my assistant that I had a meeting downtown and wouldn't be back for the rest of the afternoon. I steeled myself for a fight and was determined to go at this guy with both barrels.

When I walked into the bar, I found him sitting at a back table. I rushed at him, and told him, "You son-of-a-bitch. What is this bullshit?"

"Candice...Candice...Calm down. Or should I call you 'Candy O'? Yeah, that's right...I know all about you. I always figured you for a slut. Now there's no doubt, is there?"

I didn't back off. "Listen, you bastard. I don't know what you think you've got, or what kind of crap you're trying to pull here. But I'll tell you this much. You try to fuck me over with this shit, and I will beat you into the ground."

He very calmly replied, "Listen Candy O. First of all, I know exactly what those pictures are. And I now know, after I did a little digging, exactly what you were, or maybe still are. You did know I was from Chicago, right? Oh...And my mother's name was 'Cordoleone.' Does that ring a bell, Candy O? Yeah...I bet it does. I can tell by the look on your face that you know exactly what this means.

"You see, Candy, my mother was Sonny Cordoleone's sister. I know the whole story. After Uncle Cordo killed Gronski for his part in your escape, my father took over the management of Jilly's. Cordo got beaten up pretty badly by Gronski. And I understand that shortly after my uncle got out of the hospital, Gronski and his girlfriend Sandra disappeared. You were responsible for that. Did you know that? How does that make you feel Candy?

"Anyway, the club closed down around 2001. Cordo was convicted of murder soon after. He died in jail a couple of years ago. But my father got all of the files that were in Jilly's office. My father died a couple of months ago, and I helped to clean out his house last week. And look what I found. Uncle Cordo had a nasty little habit. You see, my dear, he had secret cameras installed in all of the back rooms. He would often use the pictures to blackmail the girls or to use as insurance in case any of the good ones tried to bail on him. And there's no doubt that this is you, Candy. Well, Uncle Cordo would be proud, because now I'm gonna get some payback for him."

I felt an icy coldness in my chest, and the dry heaves returned, erupting down in the pit of my stomach.

"You know, from the moment I started working with you, I wanted to fuck the crap out of your sweet little Ph. D. ass. Now I'm gonna get my wish. This actually could have been easier for you. If you had given in to me before I discovered the pictures, we might have been able to avoid all this nasty business. But no. You always played the part of the prim and proper Doctor Faggioli, with that wimp of a husband of yours. The girls around the office call him Saint Nicholas. Well, relax Candy, because my guess is that Nicky has never fucked you the way I'm gonna do it."

"You make me sick. You're disgusting. What the fuck do you want?"

"Aw c'mon. You're not that naïve. You know exactly what I want. Saint Nicholas is away this coming weekend with his baseball team at a fall tournament. You and I are gonna have a little party Friday night."

"Like hell, I am!" I screamed back at him.

But he just sat there with this smug shit-eating grin on his face. I suppose it was inevitable that something like this would eventually happen. I tried one more tactic.

"These pictures were taken over twenty years ago. That was before I met Nicky. What makes you think I hadn't told him about my past life or that he would even care now?"

"Because none of you girls are ever willing to reveal your past. And Saint Nicholas would have a stroke if he saw these. And on top of that, I have many copies of the pictures that are ready to be mailed to a whole bunch of folks around town who would really find them interesting. Nice try Candy, but it's not gonna work. I got you!

"You're gonna meet me tomorrow night at the Garden of Eden hotel. When I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk. But don't worry. By the time the wimp comes home Monday, you'll be fine. After all, you should be used to this. You're pussy has been plowed so many times by so many different guys, it's probably like the Holland Tunnel down there. See you tomorrow night, baby. No later than 7. Be there, or else."

Guy got up to leave, but I couldn't move. My legs were rubbery. After I had some water and composed myself, I finally headed for home. I kept beating myself up over not having put this part of my life to bed, pardon the pun, and square it with Nicky years ago. I was completely screwed. What choice did I have? This would completely destroy Nicky if he found out.

I rushed home and took a shower, trying to scrub the sins of my past away. Before Nicky got home, I curled up in a ball on the bed. I knew Nicky wanted to make love before he went out on the road. But I felt dirty and cheap. I told Nicky that I had a stomach bug, and just wanted to sleep. I didn't know it at the time, but I wouldn't make love with my husband again.

I called out sick the next day, Friday. After checking on me, Nicky left early Friday morning for his road trip. I just wanted to get this thing over with, and kept telling myself that this should be no big deal. After all, when I was a working girl, I would get through weekend parties easily. After this, it would be over.

I don't know how I made it through the day. At about 7, I headed over to the hotel. "Let the bastard wait," I thought. When I got to the room, he was in a robe and he had some wine chilling. I chugged a glass to help me to numb myself. I would do that a lot when I was a working girl. Some nights I would even do a couple of lines of cocaine just to get through my shift. I wish I had some now.

"C'mon. Let's get this over with. After this, you and I are done."

"Slow down, Candy O. You want me out of your life, you're gonna have to do a lot better than this. You're in no position to be making any demands here. Strip out of those clothes and get your fucking ass on that bed. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk. And you're gonna like it better than what that wimp of a husband of yours does for you."

I realized he was right. He was holding all of the cards. But I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. He was going to get what he wanted, but on my terms, not his. He would be basically fucking a cold fish. I wasn't going to even give this guy the notion that this was enjoyable for me. As I removed my clothes, I started feeling kind of wobbly. "God no! The scumbag spiked the wine." That was my last lucid thought before everything went hazy and the nightmare began.

It was all very fuzzy. I was kind of in a dream-like state, and I kept moaning Nicky's name. Images of our honeymoon kept flickering in and out of my head. Nicky and I were by the fire. He and I would couple in the missionary position with no movement. Just kissing and holding each other until our passions built to a level where we both felt the urgent need for release. And then Nicky would thrust fast and hard and we'd both orgasm. I could feel his cum splash inside me again and again. It was odd because it seemed to be happening over and over again. And then there was darkness.

When I awoke, light was filtering in through the hotel room curtains. I was naked on the bed and was literally covered in dried cum, and I had a headache the size of Mount Vesuvius. I seemed to be leaking cum from every orifice. I even had the taste of dried cum on my lips.

"Oh my God! What the hell happened?" Guy was gone and I was alone. "Why couldn't I remember anything?" I panicked. Then I saw the note on the nightstand. The envelope contained multiple copies of the pictures Guy had shown me in the Crooner bar, foolishly making me think that this was over and done with.

"Hey slut. Me and the guys had a blast last night. And you seemed to enjoy it yourself. My guess is you're going to want to do this again real soon."