The Wife Who Gave It Away - Melody

"Can that be true? Could someone be following him?" asked my wife.

"I don't know," said Melody.

At the dinner table, Earl started his rant about distrusting banks, something he'd said on previous occasions. He told me again,

"You should start to acquire gold coins. When the world goes to shit, the banks will be closed for the duration."

Whatever crisis Earl foresaw, he didn't elucidate, but he assured us that his gold horde would permit their survival.

"If you can't afford gold, try silver. It's a lot cheaper."

Instead of gold coins or silver bars, we really wanted a new house. Our rental home was not the palace of dreams. My wife asked Melody to keep her eyes out at her Real Estate Office for any bargains. Melody replied,

"I hate to tell you, Flo, but I was just fired from the job."

"Why?"

Melody told Flo in confidence that the reason she was fired was because she was having an affair with her boss. Iit worked like this:

The boss would leave the office pretending to meet a buyer, and take Melody to an unoccupied but furnished listed home. As a realtor, he had the code to open the lock box where the key was stored. Melody and her Boss would enter, pretending he was showing the home to a prospective buyer; that was the part played by Melody. Once inside the 'house for sale,' they'd make straight to the bedroom for a fast fuck in the absent owner's bed and then race back to the office.

Unfortunately, the boss's wife was a partner in the real estate office. She had booked an appointment with a prospective client for that same home without telling her husband. When the realtor's wife walked in she saw her naked husband on top of Melody in flagrante delicto. That was when the shit hit the fan. Exit Melody, a prospective real estate saleswoman, fired.

On my own, I found a large lovely house on a hill in a residential neighborhood just on the town's border, but I was concerned with water damage I'd spotted inside the home under the second floor staircase. I'd asked Earl to look at it, and he pointed out various drainage problems that he said might not be repairable. Since Earl Hascal was the expert, his comments discouraged me from making and finalizing the offer.

Being a bit prudish, my wife thought the time had come to diminish contact with Earl and Melody. Melody's escapades were getting to be too much for Florence to put up with..

Earl called us a week later. Real Estate sales were slow, and the builder he was working for offered him, or anyone he knew, a super low price on these three new homes he was constructing. Earl gave us the address, and we went over to check out the houses. They were in a fashionable neighborhood high on a ridge, a reasonable distance away from the areas we liked. The houses were about half-finished with a long balcony against the outside wall of the home overlooking a scenic landscape.

We drove out to view the place and found Earl, all alone, with no workmen in sight. He proceeded to show us the homes. The floors were not yet laid, and yellow-brown plywood was everywhere. The three homes were for sale, but you had to buy all three to make the deal.

I asked Earl, "Would you like to take one for yourself? We'd take one, and we could sell off the third?"

It was as if he hadn't heard me,

"This is a great opportunity for you guys. You buy 'em, I'll finish 'em up, and you'll make a killing."

We considered being involved in the transaction. We could have afforded one house, but because the houses were only half finished, we were at a loss to determine what it would cost to complete them. For some reason, we thought better of it. We may have begun to doubt Earl, who was unclear on the cost of finishing the project.

The next night, we got together. Earl insisted he'd introduce us to the owners of the houses, and we were all invited to have dinner with his boss, Sam Chung, and his family. It was the Chinese New Year, and among the Chinese, it was customary to give red envelopes with money to employees. On this occasion, Mr.Chung invited his star worker and guests to dinner at a well-known French restaurant. The Chinese family was warm and generous, but they did not mention the houses.

After our dinner at the stylish French restaurant, where they served everything from snails to turtles, not wanting to be rude, we followed Earl and Melody back to their small apartment. Earl and I sat in the living room while Earl discussed his theory of the Kennedy assassinations over a glass of whiskey.

The girls disappeared into the bedroom. During this time, Melody confided to my wife that she wasn't pleased with the sexual relationship she had with Earl.

"Well, what is wrong with him?" said Flo, "Can't he perform?"

"Well, Earl's okay for foreplay; he goes down on me like a sperm whale, and if he can't get it up, he takes a Viagra, and then he can get it up, but hon, it just ain't doing it for me."

Melody said that her remedy to her marital problem was to have sex with other men. For example, she explained that she was very attracted to the local Fed-Ex delivery man, who wore short pants as he scampered about the neighborhood and had a mustache like Tom Sellick.

To facilitate meeting him, Melody began shipping empty boxes to herself. When the Fed-Ex guy brought them to her apartment, she'd open the door half-naked. She had little trouble seducing the guy, whose erection, she assured Flo, was so long that the tip of his knob's head stuck out from his short pant leg.

"It doesn't cost much to send the empty boxes, and this guy's performance is well worth the trouble. Would you like to see a photo I took of his dick?" said Melody.

"Nope, I'm good,' said Flo.

Melody started to rifle through her photo library.

"Oh God, I forgot this one he took with his cock in my mouth."

She thrust the phone in Flo's face, and Flo said, "You couldn't see how long his dick was because most of it was in Melody's mouth."

I knew a guy who worked at the downtown Fed-Ex office, and I asked him if he knew the delivery guy on the street where Melody and Earl lived.

"Oh, yeah."

Had he seen Melody?

"She's a blond, about 5 foot 6? Maybe about forty years old? Looks worn out? Drives a yellow Chevy?"

"Yep, that sounds like her," I answered.

"That'd be Raymond Nijaro, who does that route. He brung her down her a few weeks back when we had a going away party for one of the retiring guys, and she blew or fucked half the guys in the office over there in the back room. Good-hearted bitch with a pussy this wide."

He put his hands together in a rather vulgar gesture.

I almost fell over, "You get into her?" I asked.

"Now you know, as I'm a married man, I don't do shit like that, and then he winked."

Then he added, "Like Clinton said, oral sex ain't sex."

My wife was disgusted with Melody's shenanigans and dirty photos and was ready for us to close all contact with this couple, but we had promised them we would see them the coming weekend.

"Listen," said Flo, "this is the last time. Earl's really nice, and Melody is too, but her sexual behavior, well, I can't condone or put up with it anymore."

So Flo gave in and agreed we'd have one last dinner. We were to meet at the steak house around 6:30 on Saturday night. The place was jumping with loud music when we arrived, and people were seated everywhere. Earl, Melody, and Earl were already seated and into their third round of whisky. They were arguing with the waiter that they were short-changed, that the drinks didn't have a full shot glass of whisky spilled over the ice.

"I know what Jack tastes like," Earl said, "This whiskey is watered down."

Not wanting to get involved, we let Earl finish his complaint, as my wife and I sat down. The management offered a free round to Earl and Melody to calm things down. I ordered a draft beer. The restaurant had the Sierra Nevada beer on tap, usually available only in a bottle, and the draft beer had an excellent floral, hoppy taste. Flo asked for a Diet Coke.

The steak dinner was served, and we busied ourselves, devouring the large t-bones. We began to converse over dessert. Earl informed us that he'd passed the city Inspector's exam, and the building commission hired him to work as a Building Inspector. Since the construction market had slowed, he figured the Inspector's job would be a good source of income.

After dessert, the girls adjourned to the lady's room, and in the privacy of the toilet, Melody described her latest method of conquest. She told my wife that her newest stunt was to drive out on the freeway in a tight red sweater and a rolled-up short skirt without wearing panties. She knew that truckers sitting high up would get a good look at her from their catbird seats, which is how she baited the trap.

She'd be on the lookout in the truck stop parking lot and follow a trucker she found attractive when he drove off. When she saw what she wanted, which was any man with a cock, she'd follow and pace in her car alongside the truck, exposing what she had to offer.

With prominent sign language, using her fingers and flipping up her skirt, she'd encourage the driver to pull over. If it was one of those long-distance trucks with a bunk in the back of the cab, she'd climb up and give herself over. If the truck's cab had no bunk, she'd tell the driver to follow her to the nearest motel.

When Florence asked who paid for the motel, Melody never answered but admitted that her behavior had prompted her to be pulled over by a highway patrolman on one occasion. That worked out fine. She blew Officer Higgins and escaped getting a ticket.

While the girls were talking, Earl said he planned to travel to Hawaii. He was convinced that the construction business in the tropical paradise would experience a boom. He and his Melody were flying for free. Earl explained if you agreed to listen to a 3-hour time-share sales pitch, the company selling the service would provide a free flight and 4 or 5 days of lodging.

When we finished our cake and coffee, we were done with Earl and Melody, just as we'd previously decided. As much as we liked them, we stopped seeing them. They called us several times between these Hawaii trips, and we made excuses not to get together. Finally, the phone stopped ringing. We figured they'd moved to Hawaii, and that was great. That night out was the last time we saw the couple. They were gone but not forgotten.

I spoke to the guy at the western store, Mr. Tommy's, who was surprised when I told him Earl was the shadow manager, but he didn't argue. He said he'd seen Melody alone at the mall a while back and wet his lips.

"I'm often in the back, don't see too much," he replied. He admitted he knew them well but hadn't seen them in recent months.

"In fact, it's probably been a year. I haven't seen the hide nor hair of the two of them."

Then he added, as an afterthought,

"But I do prefer women who shave it clean and smooth."

When he raised his eyebrows, I understood what he was alluding to. I admit to being surprised that no one had seen them. It seemed like the earth had just swallowed them up. I even checked the obituaries online, but Earl, who probably was a good heart attack candidate with his excess weight and heavy drinking, was not among those recently listed.

I asked the head waiter at the 'Jethro Steak House' if he'd seen the couple. He was more forthcoming. He said last year Melody would drop by and service several of the waiters in the afternoon back in the employee's locker area when the restaurant was closed between lunch and dinner.

"If you see her," he added, "tell her the boys at 'Jethro' talk about her all the time and miss her. We all hope she will come back."

When my wife and I finally got back to house hunting, by chance, at an open house, I met Melody's old real estate boss at an open house. When I questioned him about his previous employee, he had a different version. He claimed his wife had a lesbian affair with the novice salesperson, Melody. When he found out what was going on, he fired Melody. Then, he split up from his wife. I wasn't sure if his story was the truth.

Downtown, while buying a Peking Duck at the Chinese Deli on Broadway to bring home for dinner, I ran into Sam Chung's son at the check-out counter, who remembered me from our dinner together. He'd not seen Earl since that night. Not him, but as for Melody,

"Let me tell you something. Melody was my old man's mistress for the longest time. That's the only reason he gave 'crazy Earl' the job of building those three houses, which he fucked up."

He added, "My Dad hasn't plugged his pickle into the hole in Melody's pickle barrel in quite some time."

His Dad had replaced Melony with a Korean girl. I assumed the pickle barrel expression translated from some Chinese proverb, but its meaning was apparent.

"If you see Melony, tell her not to come round."

After that encounter, I never ran into Earl's lesbian ex-wife, the motorcyclist's son, or his adopted Native American son. Maybe they exist, maybe not? Florence had met Melody's pimple-faced druggy daughter one afternoon at Earl's apartment, so I knew that one phantasma existed.

Oh yeah, I knew that the big house I'd wanted to buy, which Earl nixed as having an unfixable drainage problem, was a bargain. Some smart ass fixed the drainage problems and flipped it within four months at about double what they'd asked me for. I'm still kicking myself on that score.

Now, I don't draw any moral judgment on Melody. She provided a living fantasy for whoever she was fucking, and her sexual appetite was prodigious. As for Earl, I figured out he was a builder but unemployed most of the time. He was also a proverbial liar who probably believed every word that came out of his mouth. Even if he was looking at his watch, you could not believe him if he told you what time it was.

I'm sure if you hooked Earl up to a lie detector machine, he'd pass with flying colors, or the machine would burn out.

As for Melody, I don't know if they were even married. Melody was a sweet soft hearted whore who gave it away without a second of hesitation. Probably, she was a 'nympho' in need of sexual attention. Earl was as crazy as a loon, but you could not fault him for his generosity and friendship. But it got pretty confusing trying to tell reality from fantasy.

Either Melody found me unattractive or was faithful to the girlfriend code. All I can say is I never fucked her, but that might be due to the 'bro code,' you don't fuck your bro's wife, even if your bro is crazy and her wife rubs her pussy in your nose. My nose is clean.

After all, I've said, I admit I miss the two of them and wish them well wherever they have disappeared to, but there is no reason for them to return.

THE END

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Best regards to all.

Erectus123.