Vanity

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual behavior are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.

*.*.*

His first job was as an instructor at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. When he waddled into the classroom, glasses sliding down his nose, brown hair greasy, pimpled skin shiny, most of the students assumed Richard Gerrard was another student. Having earned his Master's degree from CalTech at age twenty, he wasn't much older than the majority of the students in his first classroom.

"My name is Mr. Gerrard. You will address me as 'Mr. Gerrard' or 'Sir,'" Richard Gerrard said in a surprisingly strong voice. "I do not take attendance. If you are here, you will learn. If you are not here, you will not learn. It is as simple as that. I do not give out gold stars for perfect attendance. I do not give make-up tests; if you miss the test, you miss the grade. Only in the most extreme cases will this rule ever be set aside. Hospitalization, death of a spouse, parents, sibling or child. The flu? Not an excuse. Wear a diaper and I'll put the wastebasket near your desk for you."

"Are you serious?" a stunning young blonde asked, beautiful blue eyes goggling at him.

"Yes ma'am, I am. And I hope you are too," he snapped.

Those that took notes, asked questions, studied said that Richard Gerrard was the best teacher on the ULD campus. Those that did not study, take notes, ask questions said he was the worst, even worse than Professor Huxton, the campus's most hated Mathematics teacher.

When PC Nation needed someone to head up their Data Center in Elgee, Louisiana, they interviewed Richard Gerrard and no one else. He cut his teaching to just three classes and discontinued his servitude as student advisor. This freed up his afternoons and evenings to run the Data Center.

Richard Gerrard ran his data center the same way he ran his classrooms. He had no patience for slackers, he had no patience for incompetence. The Data Center went from being a satellite office to being the primary location for PC Nation.

Richard was paid handsomely. The university even offered to pay for Richard to study for his doctorate. And PC Nation paid Richard to go to their other locations and train their staff in an effort to bolster the smaller data centers. He was admired for his intelligence and feared for his administrative style.

But, by the time Richard Gerrard was twenty six years of age, the five foot seven inch man weighed three hundred and seven pounds. Walking from car to door of the data center had him gasping for breath. He often suffered dizzy spells. Even on the coldest of days, his face was constantly covered in a sheen of sweat.

Dr. Farbacher sat the young man down and put the facts in front of Richard. He let Richard know he was pre-diabetic, his cholesterol was off the chart, his blood pressure was through the roof, his heart couldn't keep up with the strain.

"One more candy bar? One more pork chop? You're gone. Richard, when's the last time you did a sit up. When's the last time you did a push up. These are rhetorical questions because I know you've never done a push up or sit up," the kindly doctor said.

Richard stoically nodded, then waddled out of the office. He attacked this problem just as he had every other problem. He ate a half gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream and a package of Oreo cookies. Then Richard Gerrard happened to look in the mirror and hated what he saw.

By the time Richard Gerrard returned to ULD for the fall semester, he weighed two hundred and forty seven pounds. He had cut his greasy hair to a severe buzz cut and had threw out his tee shirts and no-name jeans for button up shirts, polo shirts, and khaki slacks. Lasik eye surgery took care of the need for coke bottle glasses also.

Some of his female students began sitting in the front of his class, leaning forward to give him glimpses down the fronts of their blouses, leaning back to give him glances up their skirts.

Richard was used to this from the girls that were not doing so well in his classes. He was used to this from girls that hoped to trade sexual favors for a good grade. But some of these girls were carrying A's in his class. They didn't need to trade sexual favors for grades.

At the Data Center, some of the female staff found reasons to pop into Richard's office. Whitney, the cute receptionist sat up a little straighter when he entered the lobby of the building. She would thrust her substantial chest out as she greeted him in a breathy little voice.

Richard continued the diet and exercise program he'd learned at the 'Fat Farm' in Arizona. He continued to bring his sister along when he bought clothes, to get the female slant on fashion.

"Mr. Gone afternoon, as Richard shopped in Burns & Burns Supermarket, an attractive blonde woman pushed her cart up next to him. He did not look over as he was busily looking for something among the confusing array of boxes on the shelves.

"Is that, Mr. Gerrard? That, it is you, hi!" the attractive blonde gushed.

"Yes ma'am?" Richard said politely, confused.

"Hi! Oh, you probably don't remember me, well, how could you? I flunked out of your Information Analysis class," the woman gushed, touching his arm.

Now, at age twenty nine, Richard weighed two hundred and twenty pounds. Much of it was muscle though. He wondered when he'd had this beautiful woman in his class; surely he would have remembered breasts as large as those, legs as long, eyes as blue.

"Momma, I get this?" a miniature version of the woman said.

Richard looked down at the eight or nine year old girl, at the sugar laden cereal the child wanted. The woman didn't even tear her smile from Richard as she grabbed the box and tossed it into her grocery cart.

"Yeah, had you, oh my God, eight? Nine years now?" the woman blathered. "Then when I found out I was PG with Rachael..."

Richard now looked at the woman, stunned. How could she remember him from eight or nine years earlier? He had been a fat blob with greasy hair, severe acne, and thick glasses.

"So, you still teaching?" the woman continued to prattle.

"Yes ma'am, three classes a semester," Richard said, beginning to push his cart away.

"Well, you look great," the woman said, now pushing her cart to keep pace with him.

"Momma, we need get them grits," the girl interrupted.

"Listen, I'll let you get back to your shopping," the woman said. "But, uh, how about we get together? Get some coffee or something, huh?"

"Uh yeah, uh, sure," Richard said.

The stunning blonde reached into her purse and pulled out a card. Richard took the card and said a polite 'good-bye.'

As he shopped, he puzzled over how, he glanced at the card, Amber Truesdale had recognized him. Even his momma's next-door neighbor had not recognized Richard when he'd returned from the sunbaked Arizona facility.

He did not call Amber quickly enough and she called him at his ULD office the very next morning. Without her daughter to interrupt her, Amber chatted merrily, letting Richard know she'd been in his very first class, had failed, had dropped out of college and had married Robert Truesdale.

"That's why you didn't find my name when you went back, looking through your records," Amber tittered. "I was Amber Goodwin then."

"Didn't look," Richard thought, but didn't say that out loud.

"Anyway, married life just wasn't for Robert, so it's just Rachael and me, two girls on our own," Amber continued prattling.

"Ms. Truesdale, I've got a class to get to," Richard cut into her happy clamoring.

"Yeah, I'm supposed be working," Amber agreed. "Ever eat at Dusty's?"

"Been a while," Richard agreed, thinking of the unhealthy menu of the diner.

"Well, that's too long!" Amber let out a playful whine. "See you about um, seven?"

"Um, sure, okay," Richard shrugged.

Amber's breasts were on display when Richard slid into the seat across from her. There was no sign of Rachael. Through the meal, Amber did most of the talking.

Amber agreed to go with Richard on a bike ride through unincorporated Pinoak the next Saturday. She showed up dressed in skintight shorts and top, with a bicycle that showed absolutely no sign of ever being used. Again, Rachael was not with her.

The first time they had sex, Richard was hooked. Amber managed to swallow his fat seven inches down to the root. She swallowed all he shot into her mouth. She rode his face to a screaming orgasm, then let him ride her to another three screaming orgasms. Then Amber rolled onto her hands and knees and asked if Richard had any lube for her ass.

Four months after their chance meeting at Burns & Burns Grocery store, Amber and Rachael moved in to Richard's home. Richard had Amber help him in furnishing Rachael's room. He also went out and bought the things his sister told him an eight, almost nine year old girl would love.

But Rachael was an unhappy child. The girl seemed to go out of her way to antagonize Richard. She spoke quite disrespectfully to her mother.

"Oh, she's just upset over the divorce. Give her time," was all Amber would say.

Two months after moving in, Amber told Richard she was pregnant. Richard went out and bought an engagement ring. Less than a year after their chance meeting, Richard and Amber became husband and wife. Rachael's animosity seemed to intensify now that her mother and Mr. Gerrard were married.

"You're not my dad," was a common phrase whenever Richard tried to talk to the child, or when he asked her to pick up after herself, or when he ordered her to watch how she spoke to her mother.

Two months after their marriage, Amber lost the baby. To Richard, Amber seemed quite complacent about the loss of their baby. After a week of recuperation, she smiled and suggested that they try again.

Richard and Robert, Amber's first husband were cordial with one another. Most of the time it was Amber that dropped Rachael off at her father's apartment. The few times Richard did drop Rachael off for her weekend with her father, Richard made a point of getting out of the car and greeting and shaking hands with Robert.

"Why you do that?" Rachael spat at Richard when he picked her up after a weekend with Robert.

"Do what?" Richard asked.

"Talk to my dad," Rachael sneered. "You know he hates you, right?"

"How he feels about me is irrelevant," Richard shrugged. "He's your father. I'm your step-father. We're both a part of your life. So, it's vital that we get along."

"You're not a part of my life," Rachael grumbled.

It was a Thursday evening when Amber fixed Richard a vodka and tonic. She'd even fixed a lime wedge for the glass. Richard looked up from the book he was reading and regarded his wife silently.

He could hear Rachael's stereo jangling and clanking something she called music. The only other sound in the house was the quiet whirr of the air conditioning, the hum of the refrigerator. Amber had asked Richard to fix that hum, but Richard had confessed that he had no clue how to do such a Herculean task.

"Baby, you know I love you to pieces, right?" Amber said as she took a seat on the beige leather loveseat.

Richard said nothing. He sipped his drink and nodded with approval; she usually put far too much tonic into the drink. This one had just enough tonic to cut the harshness of the vodka.

"I uh, well, I, you know, there's something I've always wanted to try, you know?" Amber said, blue eyes searching his brown ones deeply.

Richard still said nothing, regarding her. He could hear Rachael singing, or attempting to sing along with the insipid warbling of some androgynous singer.

Amber grew impatient with Richard's silence. She frowned, almost angrily. He took another sip of his drink.

"I uh, well, I guess I'll just come right out and say it," Amber finally declared.

Richard waited. Amber sighed, then looked away.

"I mean, I love you, really love you. You and I, I mean, we're soulmates. That first day when you came into the classroom, I knew," Amber said, then faltered. "I uh, but, I, there's this one thing that's been on my bucket list forever and..."

Still Richard said nothing. He waited. Amber twisted her hands then steeled herself.

"I uh, I always wondered what it'd be like, you know, with a black man," Amber blurted out.

"So, when are you and Rachael moving out?" Richard asked.

"Wait, what?" Amber asked, mouth open in surprise.

Richard looked at her. She was truly a beautiful woman. Her white blonde hair reached to just past her shoulders, framing her angelic face perfectly. Her blue eyes were large, bright. Her nose was a slim nose and her lips were pouting, light pink.

Her breasts had been surgically enhanced from her natural 34C to a 34DD. Amber claimed Robert had made her do it but Richard doubted that. He'd never been able to make Amber do anything she didn't want to do.

"Move, Richard, we're not moving out," Amber said.

"You're telling me you want to fuck..." Richard said.

"Richard! Watch your mouth! Rachael..." Amber admonished.

"Has heard that word plenty of times," Richard said.

"Well, she doesn't need to hear it anymore," Amber said.

"Anyway, you're wanting to go off and fuck a black guy. But only way you can do that is if we're not married," Richard said, finishing his drink. "So, when are you and Rachael moving out?"

He picked up his book again.

"It'll just be this one time," Amber said.

"One time, one hundred times, doesn't matter," Richard said, looking at his page again. "As long as we're married? The answer is still no."

"But it doesn't mean anything," Amber said, a whine in her voice. "It'll just be me crossing one more thing off my bucket list and we'll..."

"The answer is no, Amber. The answer is no," Richard said, closing his book again. "You will not bucket anything while you and I are married. But you seem hell-bent do this. So, when are you and Rachael moving out?"

"We're not," Amber snapped.

"Okay, so you won't be fucking any black guys," Richard said.

"Richard, it'll just be this one time, then we'll be just like before," Amber snapped, blue eyes flashing angrily.

"No, Amber, no, it won't," Richard sighed. "Let's say you and Dalbert get together. You fuck and he's eh, nothing special, nothing to write home about..."

"See?" Amber said. "It'll be nothing to worry about.

"But maybe that's just Dalbert. He just doesn't know how to swing that dick," Richard continued. "But, hey, maybe Freddy, maybe he knows how do it right. You'll be wanting try Freddy, see if he does know how use that dong. So, once again, the marriage vows get broken."

"No, I won't," Amber denied. "Once I've..."

"Or let's go to the other side of the coin. Maybe Dalbert is oh my God so good. You're telling me you're going be okay coming in here and having plain old boring me?" Richard asked.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you, Honey," Amber said.

"Bull. Shit," Richard said. "You're going be laying there, reliving your fuck session with Dalbert, or Freddy, or Ambrose. And I'm supposed to just be okay with knowing my wife's laying there, thinking of her black man?"

"But I won't," Amber said. "It'll be..."

"And what else is on your bucket list? Gang bangs? You and another woman? You and a circus clown and a midget? And I'm supposed to just say, 'oh, it's okay, Sugar Boo, you just go on and get that bucket list taken care of?' I don't think so. So, the answer is no," Richard said and got to his feet. "Rachael! Turn that down, huh?"

"Well, I'm going out tomorrow night," Amber said, getting to her feet.

"Where you want me bringing your stuff?" Richard asked.

Amber didn't answer. Richard wondered why Amber had not seemed surprised that he knew the names of three of the African-American men she worked with. He frowned to himself as Rachael turned her music even louder.

Richard went to bed at his usual time. He could hear Amber typing on her computer, quite noisily in their home office. He didn't tell her good night and did not wait for her to come to bed.

The next morning, Richard grunted as he entered the kitchen. Amber had fixed waffles for herself and Rachael. Rachael smirked at Richard when Amber announced that he was on his own for breakfast.

"That's fine," Richard smiled and quickly whipped up a three egg omelet.

"And it's just going be you and Rachael for dinner tonight," Amber said, eyes challenging Richard. "Ive got plans."

Richard said nothing. He just shook his head at Rachael's indignant huff. After he finished his meal, he put his dish into the dishwasher.

"Uh, hey?" Amber said, a little shocked when Richard opened the door of the garage.

"Hey?" Richard asked.

"Not going kiss me good bye?" Amber asked.

"No," Richard said and left the house.

Richard taught his eight o'clock class then drove out to the Data Center and immersed himself in his day. At lunch, he called Amber; since their first time making love, it had been a habit of his, to call her at lunch time.

She did not answer her phone. Richard left the message that she should seriously reconsider her plans for that evening; the cost would be quite high.

"Yes, it pays to be a geek," Richard thought as he checked his wife's cell phone records, her computer usage. "Dalbert Kollins, sucks to be you, brother."

Richard finished his work day and drove home. He entered the house and winced as he could hear Rachael's music blaring at an intolerable volume. Amber's car was not in the garage, but he had not expected to see it.

"Rachael! Turn that down!" Richard bellowed.

No response. Richard tried the knob to Rachael's bedroom door but it was locked. Richard opened the hall closet, then flipped the breaker to Rachael's room.

"Hey! Ass hole!" Rachael screamed, outraged.

"Unlock the door," Richard shouted.

"Go away, ass hole," Rachael screamed.

Richard then made a phone call. While he waited, he smiled. Rachael was stomping around her room, apparently trying various electronics with no luck. It never occurred to the ten year old girl to walk across the hall to the hall closet and check her breaker.

Richard got up from the recliner as he heard a car come to a stop outside. He reached the door just as a knock sounded.

"Rachael, need pack what you need; school clothes, textbooks," Richard yelled out as he opened the front door.

"Fuck you; you're not my dad," Rachael screamed through her closed door.

"No, but I am," Robert said, popping the lock on the door with a butter knife. "Come on, young lady, we're going wash that nasty mouth out with soap. Then you're going pack everything you need, hear?"

Richard and Robert talked as Rachael did pack her clothes and books into the two garbage bags Richard had provided. Richard smirked as Rachael kept wiping her tongue, trying to get the soap taste off of it.

"I got to go to the bathroom," Rachael suddenly declared.

"SO go," Richard shrugged.

"Sorry my girl's been such a snot to you," Robert said.

"Mom? Mom! Pick up," Rachael whispered into her cell phone.

"Might have noticed? Not working," Richard said to the closed bathroom door. I cancelled your phone this afternoon."

"You God damned ass hole! You can't do that!" Rachael screamed.

Like the taste of Ivory soap, huh?" Robert snarled, grabbing Rachael by her arm as she stomped out of the bathroom.

"You're not fully clean until you're zestfully clean," Richard smirked, parroting the old television commercial.

"Daddy! Quit, ack!" Rachael protested as her tongue was again smeared with the wet bar of soap.

"I hate you!" Rachael screamed at both men as she dragged the two garbage bags down the stairs.

"I'll bring by anything I find on, Sunday work for you?" Richard asked.