War of the Pezzimentis

Roman had a lounge that he often went to looking for strange. A very hot, busty, redhead smiled at him. He joined her at her booth. She said that she lived in Knoxville and was just there for the weekend. She snuggled close to him. Roman expected to score. Each had a couple drinks and danced.

The next thing Roman knew it was five a m and he was sitting in his car, alone. There was a terrible pain in his groin. He felt himself, and then screamed a long wail of despair.

John had thought long and hard as to what to do to Roman. What he arranged would end Martha's fucking him, once and for all. Roman's wife and kids still had a provider, who would spend a lot more time at home.

The redhead was a brown haired woman, with glasses, wearing an ankle long dress when she boarded United 1031 for Vegas.

A week later, a very irate Martha told the cabbie to hurry as they rode to her home, 1375 Oak ledge Lane. The turned to go up the drive that climbed the hill. She was reaching for the fee to pay the cabby when the green field came into sight. The cab stopped. She looked up. "You went up the wrong drive." she stated.

"Ma'am, you said 1375 Oak ledge didn't you?"

"Yes."

"That was the number on the mail box."

When they got to the main road, Martha inspected the mailbox. She opened it. Inside was a letter addressed to her that read.

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Dear Martha,

Welcome home. I'm sure that you had a lot of time to consider your past activities during your trip. For your information, I jumped overboard to leave you. John Pezzimenti and Hammer Construction are no longer in existence.

When you had sex for six months with the pool kid, I was upset, but was so busy that I just let it die a natural death. Roman, however, was another matter that had to be dealt with, especially when you would have sex with him on the cot at the club, and then come home to sleep with me. Plus, there was no sign that it would ever end.

There is a rumor at the club that he had some bad luck with a redhead woman that he picked up. She stole his nuts, it seems. Some say that he deserved it.

As for money, be careful with the twenty thousand that you have, as there will be no more from me.

As soon as the men at the club know that I'm out of the picture, your date card will fill up. But sweetheart, they will all be married men who only want your pussy. The wives will hate you.

Know that I will always know what you are doing.

John

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"Take me back up the drive."

She got out. Only then did she realize that everything she had ever treasured was gone. The cabby had to help her back into the car. She instructed that he drive her to the Hammer building at 100 Park Street. When they pulled up to that address, the fact that it was a green grass lot astounded her.

In her mind she saw him laughing at her. She knew that he was smart. She knew that men feared him. He was called by some, "Big, Bad, John." She knew that he planned way out in front, as far as five years down the road. The bastard. How long had he planned all this? Probable for months, she realized. He had fucked her several times a week, she remembered. The only difference was he requested that she suck him off a lot more, or took her in the ass.

Her next stop was the bank. There were no accounts in her name, his name, or Hammer. It was past two, but she next went to the offices of Warren Wolf, Esquire, attorney at law. She filled him on what she knew. Two days later, she again went to Mr. Wolf's office after she had spoken to Roman, and had learned what had happened to him.

Time lines were drawn. It dawned on Martha that John was alive after the date that the freighter left Miami, since his letter mentions Ramon's night with the redhead. Wolf said that John was in Dayton that night. The company plane was in Florida that night. The money trail established by an ex IRA agent, ended in Switzerland. Only with evidence of a crime would the banks there provide information as to the accounts of their customers. As far as the law went, John and Martha had a valid divorce. Wolf, as an agent of the court, could not state otherwise.

After five thousand dollars spent trying to find and serve John or his money, Attorney Wolf declared, "Mrs. Pezzimenti, it seems that your husband is a very clever man. Unless we can serve him here or in Nevada, he has left you with no options."

Martha was now desperate. Within a few months, she would run out of money. She rented a small apartment. She spent all day at the club, where she planned to hunt for another breadwinner. Like wolves, the cock hounds circled her each night waiting for her to get drunk.

Two, three, sometimes four nights a week, she ended up on the cot in the poker room. She was always welcome to join a threesome of men on the course.

Finally, an older man, who she knew was extremely wealthy asked her to join him on his yacht. He was known as the Silver Fox. It was known that he was a womanizer. His wife did not care. She had her own lovers. Both were into kinky sex.

After several trysts, he, Wellford Farnsworth, the fifth, set her up in a luxurious condominium, near his offices. She had it made. But there was a price. Wellford was into light bondage, roll playing, and sometimes brought to her place couples, or men, who were allowed to have their way with her.

She was surprised one night to find he and his wife entering the condo. That was the night that she was taught how to eat another woman.

The time came that Wellford took her with him on a trip to Key West Florida. They were to use a large yacht to cruise with and do some fishing. There was a two-man crew. Wellford explained that a friend of his would be going along. Martha did not care. She planned on sun bathing on the bow. When aboard, she took her clothes and toiletries to their stateroom. She changed into a tiny bikini. The boat left the dock, and was soon heading out to sea, with Martha on the front deck. By a small, white sand atoll they anchored in a quiet cove. It was so beautiful.

Food and drink was served. She was mellow. As the sun set, Wellford called her to the stateroom. "Please shower and come back naked."

When she returned, Wellford sat smiling on the bed. He had large, red boxing gloves that he put on her hands. Then he taped them on just as a fighter would. All this, another of Wellford's fantasies, bemused Martha. He kissed her on the forehead. "Martha, my dear, stay here. I have some business to attend to. Then you will have a very interesting experience."

Martha thought at times that Wellford was nuts. She heard a large boat come alongside. Then it rumbled again as it sped off into the night.

The door opened and in walked John. At once, she wanted to hit him, hurt him, kiss him, ask him how he got there, and why? Most of all she was speechless, momentarily.

"Told you that I would keep track of you." He said, smiling.

But, he was naked and stroking his cock. She realized that he intended to take her, use her, and ravish her. The boxing gloves! She jumped up and ran for the open door. He made no move to stop her.

"Wellford, Captain?" There was no sound, except for the soft lapping sounds of the ocean on the atoll shore. On deck, she found nothing but blackness. Her mind raced. John had arranged all this, she realized. She stood there, naked, feeling the slight rocking of the yacht.

The world closed in on her. All her womanly games now seem so absurd. She recalled thinking of John as a pussycat, who would do anything for her. She knew him now for what he really was and is: a Lion King. She had been so stupid. She walked down the steps to the stateroom.

He carefully watched her eyes as she walked in. Seeing what he hoped to see, he said. "Stand here."

He cut the tape holding the gloves on, and removed them.

"How are your mom and dad? He asked.

"Upset with their daughter."

"Can't imagine why." He said in jest, which brought the hint of a grin from her.

Her mind raced again. He was not cussing her out, nor was he raping her. There was no anger in his eyes. Is it possible that he might give her another chance? "Where are you going with this, John?"

"Well, you know how it is with me, Martha. I was thinking of what I wanted my life to be like in five years. I have a nice house, furnished with Ethan Allen furniture. I have a large pool. But, it isn't a home because there is no woman there, or children. So, I was thinking I need a woman that I am comfortable with, who wanted me before I was rich. There is only one woman who fits that description."

The look on Martha's face was priceless. Both John and Martha will always fondly remember that moment. As she folded into his arms, he heard her say; "There is a forgiving God."