Two's a Crowd Ch. 02


When she rose again her breasts settled with a liquid bounce. Her smile was radiant -- it scorched the air between us. She winked. Then she turned and walked away with a sway in her tightly packed hips. I remembered where I saw those towering heels before.

I never regretted the divorce, but that did not make me feel any happier. The end was all but satisfactory. Had I hoped that the act of divorce would hurt her? Why would it? Her extravagant attitude and outfit made it clear that she did not need me anymore.

There just were no ways within the law to punish her for what she had done. Or even to hurt her. She was a free woman now. All I could do was forget her and move on.

The Myriam I had known had always been a proud, independent woman. I admired her for it and it was a big part of her attraction to me. She insisted on having her own life, her own goals and successes. But she had loved me and was happy to share them with me, as I was to share mine with her.

Then she found things she did not share. It may have started small and insignificant. Like getting compliments from attractive--looking, powerful men. Or being pampered on trips, at functions. First class travel may have helped, luxury boat trips. She gladly let herself be raised onto a pedestal of flattery.

It became a delicious delusion. Soon she must have started comparing. She allowed a curtain of glittering glamour to fall between us. It swept her away to a world where I could not follow. A world of wealth -- of fast and shallow fun. She found herself on a stage, warmed by the limelight of admiration. And when the prize she had to pay started to accumulate, she paid gladly. She was hooked and never rattled her golden chains, it seems.

I could not compete.

Familiarity, they say, breeds contempt. By now I wonder why she had stayed with me as long as she did. Why had she bothered to return again and again from the dream world she had found. And mostly, why had she taken all the trouble of keeping the truth away from me after I found out. Was it guilt, after all? Or even stubbornness -- not wanting to admit it was over?

Maybe I was a necessary ingredient of her illicit adventures. The part that made it extra thrilling. She might get a power kick out of knowing she humiliated me: stupid, naive me. And maybe she needed to be married as assurance against affairs getting too involved? So many possible reasons: maybe the instinctive need for a fall-back plan; or an insurance against a time when all this yummy bliss might be over; or a pension for when she got older.

It must have been anything but love, I decided.

I could go and ask her. But seeing her that last time robbed me of all desire to ever meet her again. And, well, after a while it doesn't matter much anymore, does it? I became very good at convincing myself that I was over it. Why should I want to meet the woman who killed the woman I loved?

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous03/25/18

He should point out that her regular fund raising seems to be done on her back legs akimbo, it must have happened before they were married and carried on after like a good whore she is.

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by Chief3Blanket02/09/18


This guy spends to much time and energy trying to figure out what happened instead of just moving on with his life.

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by Anonymous10/21/17


Your character is just plain pathetic!

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by ChuckEPoo10/18/17

Painful story

I love your writing but this is painful to read. I’d love you to write a story where the woman wasn’t a lying cheating whore. 5

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