Warmth in the Snow Pt. 03

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People are never who you think they are.
3.1k words
4.28
29.7k
28

Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 01/13/2017
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Funny thing, scandal. One should find a scandal wrenching, considering all the pain and humiliation involved.

Yet people love the devastation of others. It breaks up the monotony. Gives the bystanders a new topic to hash out in the break room or by the water cooler. 'Why do you think he did it?' followed by the inevitable speculation. Walking through the office after the suicide of Diana's husband became known, I overheard the whispers, and the barely disguised excitement at the novelty of it all.

Who are we kidding? When Diane's husband shot himself, it revealed a lot about the people who worked for me. A few were horrified and said the appropriate things. But more eagerly debated the reasons for her husband's death. To them, it was just something to talk about. I made careful note.

Mark's funeral was on Friday afternoon, unseasonably bright and warm for a winter day. We closed the office after lunch so everyone could attend and support Diane, newly widowed with a young child and now pregnant with a second.

Carla and I finally found the church, tucked away in a remote working-class suburb on the other side of town. If some film crew had needed a standard, B-flat Baptist church as a scene for a movie, they could have done worse. The red brick, the white columns, the spire soaring above the immense parking lot. In all, the exterior looked like something drawn by a bright sixth-grader with a ruler and a pencil. I found myself disliking its stern, smug simplicity, as if ornamentation and brightwork were ungodly vanities. Carla took note and studied herself in the vanity mirror.

"Big crowd," she remarked. The parking lot was full, with overflow already beginning to park on the street.

"Well, he was the youth minister. Guess he cut a swath." Distracted, Carla pulled a tube of lipstick out of her purse for a touchup, a muted burgundy out of respect for the occasion.

"I suppose. Have you spoken to Diane?" I parsed her tone. No significance to her tone. No hints that she knew.

"Only when I took over that food on Tuesday." It had been a horror show. Her small house thronged with family and friends, a siege by the well-meaning. And Mark's parents standing by, stony and unreadable. Had they been suspicious of me? No, there was no way they could have known.

"That was nice of you to do that. People have to eat, even when they don't feel like cooking." Adjustments made, she capped the lipstick and dropped it in her clutch purse and snapped it shut. Making one last flick of something from her black dress, she opened the passenger door. "Come on, David. I know it won't be easy. But we can't be so late that we sit at the back."

The church was jammed. We found the delegation from the office, all seated together in the enormous sanctuary, the two of us squeezing in beside Sue, my bookkeeper. Sitting on the aisle, I could see the casket on its bier at the front, an enormous spray of flowers atop the lid. Flanking the casket were untold numbers of arrangements, the tributes of family, friends, and community. The piano offered soft and comforting appeals to Christ. The latecomers stood and fidgeted along the walls, shifting from foot to foot on the flagstone to the music, hoping for a short service.

They would get their wish. The family filed in behind the minister, himself in a black three-piece suit, the kind of outfit bankers used to wear. I caught a glimpse of Diane, her expression downcast, unable to meet the eyes of the congregation. She sat with an older couple, most likely her parents. With a gesture, she offered another older couple the pew beside her, but they marched past her to sit at the end. Her in-laws, I remembered from my Tuesday visit.

The minister spoke for fifteen minutes about damnation and hell and the certitude of death. Carla and I exchanged glances. He spoke at length about Mark's service to the youth of the parish, without any hint of the reasons for his termination. The Lord's Prayer, the 23rd Psalm, "What A Friend We Have In Jesus," and then the benediction. Mark's goodbye had a perfunctory feel to it, an inconvenience now duly handled.

Pallbearers came to bear Mark away, bringing the casket up the middle aisle while we stood. Behind the pallbearers came Diane and the rest of Mark's family. As she half-wobbled down the aisle, she cast her gaze about the room until she saw me. Passing where Carla and I stood, the widow squeezed my forearm with her hand.

"Thank you for coming."

"Of course." With that, she continued out the church to join the burial procession to the cemetery. A private interment, the discreet, forgettable burial of a failed minister.

"That was awful," Carla remarked, breaking the silence on the way home. "You'd think that minister would have had have a few words of comfort. But, no. Just hell. I just don't understand those people. What did Diane say to you?"

"She thanked us for coming."

"Well, why wouldn't we? She's been a wonderful employee to you." I simply grunted in reply. "Do you know when she's coming back?"

"No idea. She's got a lot to deal with, from what I understand."

"And a child on the way. You need to help her."

"You're right."

Diane returned the week after. She sat heavily in the chair across my desk with a weary huff as I looked up from a report. She looked understandably haggard from the strain.

"Hi. How are you?"

"Fine. More importantly, how are you?"

She didn't reply. She only sighed deeply and stared up at the ceiling.

"You didn't have to come back so soon."

"No. I was already going stir crazy at home. People dropping by all the time. By the way, thanks for the food. I couldn't drink the wine, however."

"What? Because you're pregnant?"

"No. Because of my fundamentalist family. Trust me. I see why people drink now." I chuckled at her mild joke. "So. We need to talk."

"Okay." I had expected as much.

"It's Mark's insurance. No go on the life insurance. Suicide is their out."

"That's normal."

"Be that as it may, I have to do something. That was $250,000 I could have used." She paused for several seconds, as if to let it sink in. "Actually, we both have to do something." I flushed, wondering what would come next. Here it comes.

"I'm listening."

"This is your child I'm carrying. You know, the morning sickness, everything."

"Right. I told you I'd help."

"I'm glad, because I'm going to need it. My parents aren't broken out in funds and my in-laws aren't talking to me. You'd think I pulled the trigger." As Diane was about to say more, I was relieved to hear a tap at my office door. Jenny, apologizing, with papers needing to be signed. As I went through them, Jenny turned to Diane and expressed her condolences. Diane nodded, biting her lower lip, with the right mixture of sadness and strength. Jenny took the papers and left, but didn't close my office door. Diane turned to watch her leave before returning her focus to me.

"She's sweet. Funny, sharp, and really attractive."

"Yes, she is."

"Nice big, blue eyes. Like something out of a cartoon. Cindy Lou Hoo from Dr. Seuss, remember her? Good figure. Are you going to fuck her, too?" She laughed at my shock. It was much too soon for her to be joking. "I'm only kidding. Look, this is no time or place to talk business. You know where I live, right? I'll leave after lunch. Personal business. Show up there around two. I've seen your calendar for the day. Nothing you can't move."

At two on the nose, I arrived at Diane's ranch house. A nicely-kept yard, grass still the color of thatch. I parked on the street and rang the doorbell.

"Punctual as always. I've always liked that about you."

"Had it drilled into me at an early age."

"Well, let's go back into the den. The living room looks out on the street."

The house was tidy, with a few flower arrangements still scattered about the house. As we walked through the kitchen, a stack of thank you notes, envelopes, and postage stamps were spread out on the table. A casserole was defrosting on the counter, with cooking instructions written in red marker on the aluminum foil. The den was pine-paneled, decorated tastefully but no photos of Diane's husband anywhere to be seen. She sat on the sofa, in her dark-blue dress, the hem riding up past her knees. I chose the armchair.

"Thanks for coming. Want anything to drink?"

"Glad to." Who am I fooling? Of course, I would come. As if I had a choice.

"Well, I guess we should talk business."

"Wow. You got to the point."

"Well, I have to pick up from daycare at five thirty."

"Since we're being direct, do you need another raise?"

"That would be nice. And some assurances." The words were calm. But there was steel in them. She patted her stomach for emphasis. "This is your child. You fucked me after all."

"I think we fucked each other." Immediately, I regretted it.

"Really? Wow."

"I'm sorry. That came out wrong." Placate her, you idiot. Apologize. This woman could wreck your life.

"It sure did."

"I just don't like being accused is all. I'll take care of you." I thought about what would that mean while she nodded. "What do you need?"

"Well, another raise."

"I'll have to ask the partners."

"I don't care. You're the majority shareholder. You can do whatever you want." This was true. Pete and Meredith owned 10% each. I owned the rest. I could plead Diane's hardship. They were never very interested in the finances anyway, as long as their quarterly dividends arrived on time.

"How much of a raise?"

"Mark made thirty, but we were strapped. You already gave me that other raise, so that's part of it. So another thirty." I let out a low whistle. That was $50,000 in raises in a matter of weeks.

"How about another fifteen?"

"Are you bargaining?"

"No. But I have to be discreet."

"You're worried about getting caught."

"Well, um, yes."

"Fair enough. But I want a quid pro quo."

"What's that."

"A promotion to Senior Account Executive in another couple of months. With a raise for the rest. And, a year or two from now, partnership." To that I raised my eyebrows.

"Whoa."

"I'm not talking a big stake. 5% will do. I'm already the lead on three pieces of business."

"I'll have to think about it."

"Don't think long. And then you'll won't have to worry about this any more. And you won't even have to change the diapers."

I began running the numbers in my head. It was only February, but it was a good year so far. Two new contracts and current clients upping their budgets. I could swing this. I even had property in my name I could sell if push came to shove. Anything to buy time.

"Agreed." With that, Diane smiled and left the room. I heard rustling in the refrigerator. The clink of glassware. She spoke to me from the other room while I sat in the chair and ran through all the contingencies.

"Well, I don't think it's going to be bad at all. Your clients like me. I did great with the Florida people." There was a grunt and the pop of a cork, followed by the pouring of wine into glasses. "Remember, I'm the sweet Baptist minister's wife who doesn't cuss. I'm practically a virgin to everyone there. You're the only one who knows any differently, right?"

"Um, right." With that, she appeared back in the doorway. Only her dress was gone. As were her bra and panties. Her face was aglow with triumph and her nipples erect with anticipation. She glided into the room, handed me my glass and put her own glass down on the end table before sitting in my lap, I leaned back as she leaned forward to kiss me. She slipped a hand behind my neck and smiled as she whispered.

"Shhh. Be still and kiss me. After all, you know, there's only one way to console a widow."

Two hours later, my phone buzzed. I looked at the caller ID and put the phone back down again. It was Carla. In the bed, I heard the rustle of sheets as Diane stirred back to life after a nap.

"Who is it?" It was a drowsy murmur.

"Carla." Just then, a text came over. 'Remember dinner plans.' "Oh, fuck."

"What?" She had a wideawake quality to her voice now.

"Dinner. With Jack and Nell."

"I remember you talking about him. Or them." I recounted the fundraiser, the one where I saw Jack with his hand on Carla's thigh. Diane sat up, newly alert. She didn't bother covering her breasts. The sheet fell down in her lap.

"Really. That's odd."

"Yes. He's always that way. Really touchy feely."

"Are you a jealous husband?"

"Should I be?"

"Well, yeah. If he's doing that in public, you never know. You mentioned how Jack and, what's her name, Nell? Anyway, how they're always at your house. Maybe you should watch it."

"Really? I can't imagine Carla stepping out."

"Who would have thought it of you? Or me?" With that, she made an expansive, open-handed gesture to the both of us in bed together. "Women are sneakier than men, you know."

I grunted while I texted a reply. 'Client meeting running long. Meet you there at seven.' A moment later, a reply from Carla. 'OK.' But as I put down the phone, I felt Diane's fingers wrap around me as she slowly stroked. My cock stiffened immediately. She edged closer to me while keeping a slow, languorous rhythm with her hand. Almost involuntarily, I groaned as she gently squeezed. I felt the tickle of her hair, the tingle of her lips on my ear as she murmured.

"Do you want to fuck me again?" She dragged her fingernails down the back of my neck. I didn't answer, only closing my eyes. "Do you want to fuck the mother of your baby again?" A soft kiss on my ear lobe. The warmth of her breath spread out across my cheek. "You want to fuck me again. You can't resist." Her tongue on my earlobe. A gentle bite. "Come on. I'm already pregnant. What have you go to lose? You've turned this good girl into a slut."

With that, she kissed me. A soft but insistent tonguing. We kissed gently, her teasing me, me seeking more, until she turned from me, released my cock, and got on all fours, her magnificent heart-shaped ass presenting itself.

"Go on. Fuck me now. Fuck me hard." I couldn't resist. I rose to my knees. Reaching behind me, she grasped my cock.

"It's so hard," she moaned, guiding me in and collapsing on the bed. Her ass remained poised in mid-air. "Fuck me. Fuck this goody two shoes you corrupted." I slowly began thrusting in her. "Faster. Use me. I need it. Punish me for my sins."

My pace picked up. Faster I went while Diane moaned louder and louder.

"I'm going to have your baby. God I love being a slut for you. I knew I'd fuck you one day." I grasped her hips and pulled myself deeper into her. There was a sheen of sweat on her, but her skin was silken. Faster, harder, almost an angry taking of her.

"You can have me anytime you want. On the board room table. In staff meeting. I don't care. You've made me into this. Fuck me the way Jack is fucking your wife." Jack? Fucking my wife? I should have been angry, I should have stopped and defended Carla, but the only thing I could do is keep thrusting as she kept on through gritted teeth.

"This is your revenge on Carla. You fucking me, because she's fucked around on you already, I bet. I know it. A woman knows these things." Faster and faster we thrust. The sweat was dripping off my chin. "You're getting harder. You like this. You like that Carla's getting fucked while you're fucking me in revenge. Ohhhh." With that, her hips bucked and I struggled to hold on. Completion became even more important than ever, for it was the reaffirmation of my manhood as I tightly gripped her slippery flesh. A tingling in the balls. A boiling up within me. An explosion like no other. A silent stretch of the back to find more purchase within her. The pouring of seed into a womb that had already claimed part of me. An exhausted collapse on top of my lover, her reaching behind her to stroke my leg.

"That was amazing." To that, I could only grunt. I was deep inside her and, now, even deeper into trouble. Yet, I was too tired to be afraid. Only resigned to whatever would happen next.

We lay there for another few minutes until Diane slid her phone off the bedside table and looked at the time.

"C'mon Samson. I need to pick up from daycare. We have just enough time to shower."

She used the loofah slowly and sensuously, soaping me up. Her touch was light, teasing me with her nearness. The couple of times I reached for her in the shower, she pushed me away with a laugh.

"Play time is over." I dried my hair and went back to the office for one more hour, picking up files to take home as a cover.

That night, over dinner, Jack and Carla argued at dinner, something about a book they both read, while Nell sipped her merlot and occasionally chimed in her own opinions. It wasn't an angry quarrel, I realized. It was an affectionate bickering, the kind that men and women have over the course of a long relationship. In every friendship between couples, there's always one diagonal relationship. But Diana was right. This was likely something more.

I sat quietly and sawed away at my steak, for the incompetent cook in the kitchen had overdone the meat. I hated this restaurant, but it was Jack's favorite. Nell seemed most attuned to my funk as I watched my wife coo with another man, and I wondered what course my screw-up with Diana would take. Nell laid a hand on my knee.

"Penny for your thoughts." Jack and Carla paused from their argument for a moment, awaiting my reply.

"Nothing. Just a very long day today."

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pugg6963pugg69632 months ago

You idiot commenters, there is a lot here worth reading. So, until you produce something better, shut your stupid pieholes. Thank you and good night.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago
Pity you did not take this forward

Looked like you had a tale to tell.

AnonymousAnonymousover 1 year ago

Waste of time, an immature cheap shot.

nixroxnixroxabout 2 years ago

0 stars - no one worth commenting to.

AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago
Call me jaded if you wish...

but I strongly suspect the novel referenced in the author's nom de plume also was never finished.

C'est la vie.

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