Coincidentally By DesignbyPayDay©
Author's Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you do not like it, do not read it. Thanks for any feedback, comments, votes or favorites. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: This particular fiction story contains adultery, drugs, and may contain terrible, terrible writing among many other things. All characters are eighteen or over if they are naked or sexual. This story has been re-submitted and tweaked for a second chapter that I had not totally intended to write.
Coincidentally By Design, Or: Chapter 1
"Never a moment's rest," he said aloud as he ran from the shower, the towel he held barely following along the way as he ran down the hall to the ringing phone. Still dripping, and seeing a number on the ID that he did not recognize, Albert had no choice but to answer.
"Hello?" he said with every ounce of question and dripping annoyance that he had.
"Uh... Hey, Alby. Um.. What are you doing right now?"
"Beulah?" Is everything all right? Are the kids OK?" Albert could not have been more confused or worried. His best friend-and-co-worker's wife was on the phone. Something could be wrong.
"Uh, yeah, it's me. Don't get worried, the kids are fine, but it is kind of an emergency though. So what are you doing right this instant?"
"Uh," Albert looked around as if he did not know what to say, and then stared at the puddle on the carpet along with the poorly tied towel he still held onto around his waist. "Nothing too terribly important. Just got home from work a little bit ago. Why, what's up, Bee?"
"I was wondering if you could let me in?" Beulah almost whispered into her end of the phone.
"Let you into where?" Surely she was not at his front door.
"Um... your apartment. It's kind of weird standing on the stoop on the phone when I could just speak to you."
"Didn't Steven leave on the certification trip this morning?" None of this was making any sense to Albert.
"He did, but this is kinds 'bout 'im." Her heavy accent went sheepish.
"Uh... I don't think that's a good idea Bee," Albert knew the rules. Never be alone with your friend's wife unless he says it is OK, and especially, never butt into their marriage.
"Please..." The sound of desperation was heard in Beulah's voice.
"Uh, ok, give me a sec, I guess I'll be right down," Albert's brain was telling of bad ideas and conversations from earlier in the week, but Albert was more concerned with wearing pants in front of his best friend's wife. He was still dripping when he opened the door.
Beulah stood on the opposite side of the solid door in all her glory, defeating the late setting sun in the background: She was wearing three inch heels and a short pleated black skirt accompanied by a high riding white tank top without a bra, nor one built in. Her light brown hair was hanging loosely over her shoulders, and she had gotten a tan since the last time they had seen each other at Steven and Beulah's daughter Kaylee's birthday party.
Had Albert not been stunned by the sight before him, he would have slammed the door closed; because he was stunned, Beulah pushed past his hanging jaw with a hand on his wet chest and was walking up the stairs before he could react. He cursed himself for not putting a shirt on.
"Bee, you shouldn't be here, you have to go-o..." He watched her naked bits below the pleated skirt while he still held the door open at the bottom of the stairs; she was not wearing underwear, and her plump lips were shaved.
His mouth was open again.
Albert had always been attracted to his co-worker's wife; attracted even before Steven and Beulah were married; attracted back when they were in school together, back when Beulah was Albert's best and only friend.
"Don't worry, Ms. Nelson has the kids until Steven gets back. We, you and me, we have to talk, it's important." Beulah had not turned to speak to Albert, instead continuing to walk up the carpeted steps with words over her shoulder.
When Beulah turned the corner at the top of the stairs and into his second floor apartment, Albert could swear she stuck out her rump since the pleats of the skirt were forced to twirl behind her body, exposing her crafted stockingless (yup) golden thigh.
Albert followed her path slowly; he was trying as hard as he could to remember something that was said in another conversation, but his mind was still blank and thinking only of the perfect naked ass he had just seen bare for the first time. Her rear end was shaped like an upside down heart.
By the time Albert had made it to the top of the stairs, Beulah was sitting cross legged on his L-shaped couch, dangling a pump off of the toe of the leg in the front. She must have gone to Albert's fridge, as there were two micro-brews sitting unopened and condensing on the table in front of her. She was lighting a joint as he approached.
"This isn't really an emergency, is it?" Albert was serious in his question despite the fuddled brain, and he was unsure if she had brought a purse.
"Nope'r." She said, ashing in a nearby houseplant.
"Um.. Bee, this is wrong... I mean Steven is my best friend." Albert looked frightened, and her brightening headlights almost froze his body.
"...and he's my husband. It's his own fault that I am here, anyway." Beulah said through held breath. Albert suddenly remembered a conversation - the one he thought was important - in full. It was the one that his brain was trying to remind him of.
"Oh no. No. Please don't do this." Not her, not this woman, this was wrong, even if it felt right. It was wrong all around, even if he was given permission.
He was no longer pacing, instead standing firm and separated from her body by only a glass table.
"Man, we got in such a fight this weekend." Albert had just finished telling Steven the details of the trip he would be taking on Friday, just before Steven had decided to talk about his personal life. Albert could never understand why Steven would fight with a woman like Beulah, let alone call her 'low class' as Steven often did.
It was only by accident that Beulah was back in Albert's life. He had confessed his love to her at their senior graduation; Beulah, in turn, had run away from him at full speed when he had finished speaking. Eight years later, at the company picnic Albert held for his employees, he saw Beulah attached to the arm of his newest hire: Steven, who also just happened to be a great worker and well qualified.
"Oh yeah, about what?" Albert was genuinely curious.
Starting a profitable company from scratch had taken a chunk out of Albert's ability to have a relationship, running said company made things even worse. Long drives like these let him live vicariously through his employees. Steven, as well, had become a close friend in the two years since he was hired, so Albert was genuinely curious.
"Oh the same old bullshit about not having enough romance, and that I never take her out anymore or talk to her. I keep trying to tell her that we're almost in our thirties and that we have kids or that I fuggin' work all day or that we could talk if she stopped yelling, but she doesn't get it."
"You're an idiot Steven," Albert said in his head while replying, "That sucks," outwardly to his friend and employee. Then again, Beulah always did pick the winners. Albert had wanted to speak to Beulah about Steven, but their false fronts prevented them from doing so.
"Yeah, it does. It got bad, too. She started yelling I was shitty in bed. So you know what I told that bitch?" Steven almost looked proud despite his vulgar words.
"What did you say?"
"I told her that if I was no good, that she should just go find someone else to fuck, but to lose some weight first." Steven was all pride.
"No way..." Albert was appalled, Steven took it as impressed.
"Yeah I did. I told her to find someone who would put up with her shit. Otherwise, she should shut her fat fucking mouth." Steven was smiling broadly and Albert was trying not to be angry by reminding himself that people could change.
"Wow, man.... What did she do when you said that?" Albert was more curious why Steven would say such things to a woman like Beulah. Albert knew, for a fact, that some women were shaped differently; Stevens taste in women gave Albert the impression that they needed to eat something.
Albert's mother, as well as Beulah's own, had tried to feed the skinny tom-boy every time she was in their eyesight. Albert remembered just how boney she was when she was younger; these days Beulah was not overweight: She was tall, and healthy, and she had finally filled out into adulthood: Stacked and soft in all the right places.
"Bitch locked herself in the bathroom after yelling at me for fighting loud enough for the kids to hear, like they're going to wake up." Steven began to laugh.
"You weren't serious, were you? No, you can't be." Albert shook his head in disbelief for a moment. "You don't think you're asking for trouble? 'Cause I think you are." Albert really wanted to know more, even if it was none of his business.
"Man, I don't really care as long as she takes care of my kids. She'll never leave me anyway. She needs me. I told her again yesterday when she all tried to apologize. I said she should start looking for a new piece of ass. No one want's her haggard ass, anyway. Shit, Bertman, You never get laid and you wouldn't even hit that shit."
Albert laughed at the absurdity of passing up a chance with Beulah, thinking of body parts to offer up as sacrifice. This laughter, misinterpreted by Steven, only fueled his vulgarity.
"Lord knows I will start looking on this trip," Steven slicked back his thinning black hair. "She'll never fucking know cause we never fuck anymore." Steven's confidence was infectious, his illiteration(yup) was carrying plague.
"I'm glad you don't deal with the customers." Albert said, still laughing at something completely different.
"No.No.Noway.Wecan'tdothisBeulah. You have to leave, like right now." He spoke the last measure of his words in his home accent and drawl. Albert really should have put a shirt on, the muscle symphony from his pacing was only agitating her further along; Beulah could feel the humidity from his damp skin, perfectly messy hair, and the moist top of his net shorts hanging from his nonexistent hips though the evening was turning chilly, pre-fall, and dry.
The windows were open, and the crisp air was creeping into the warm apartment; it only seemed to act as fuel when it hit Beulah's shoulders, or when it ran through the holes in Albert's shorts.
"Oh, so he told you..." Beulah's words carried a second phrase of "fucking figures" silently in tandem with the roll of her eyes. She sighed as she kicked off her heels and stood, taking a few steps to her left, along the rectangle table and towards the shelves. She was running her finger across his collection of albums upon arrival, in search of a specific title naming a thing that he was too young to have purchased new.
"Yeah, he.. sortofsaidsomething. Look, he's like my best friend Beulah, we can't do this."
"We were best friends once..." she was ignoring him, heightening the effect of the unsaid, while offering him the joint. When he didn't take it, she hung it from her lips and bent over to start the record meticulously. Not a scratch was heard as static and the sight of her unclad cheeks filled the air.
Despite the view, her words stung, and they brought Albert back to another time. This conversation was going to happen now, even if he wanted her to go before he made a bad choice.
" 'fuck." He reacted late as her words finally stuck too deep. Albert sat - fell - diagonally across from her retaken seat on the L, and took the J from her, hitting it with the remainder of the alphabet.
Reggatta De Blanc, his favorite album, had begun to play, acting as the trigger. The songs always calmed him down and made him feel better.
These two individuals had not been alone since the day Albert told Beulah he loved her. Until that day, they were inseparable; they had, literally, hung out every day of their conscious lives.
The classy word still hung over the sound of the record playing at the perfect volume
When she softly fell back into the couch, she took in the sight of her husband's best friend: Shirtless, damp, tense, conflicted, and well defined. Beulah took the time to open the slick beer bottles upon the glass table with her disposable lighter; she took a sip of her own beer, sitting it in her lap rather than placing it on the table next to his.
Albert had always been a worker, and a swimmer, even when they were younger and merely separated by a farm field in a remote 'hick' town. The sight of his features showed her the value.
"Why did you run away from me." Albert passed her back the remainder of the illicit substance, and snagged his beer from the table. This may have been his best friend's wife, but he deserved an answer, even if he was staring at her legs.
"Alby honey..." Beulah was the only person to call him Ably, a name he had not heard in a long time, especially not in front of Steven - whom knew none of this history. "You weren't the first boy to say you loved me, ya' know? What was I supposed to do? I was young, but I knew I would hold you back. I'm not smart like you, you were going places. Look at you now."
"So were you." Albert said without hesitation. "None of that stuff is true, Bee. It wouldn't matter if it was. You could have come with me."
"You're the only one who ever said so..." Only the music was heard for a time.
"Richie Hinkley was the first one to say he loved you." Albert had interrupted the silence of the music. "I remember. You told me that same night, on the dock on your momma's pond. Remember? We were looking at that book of constellations." The two sat in silence again, both sitting back and holding cold tinted glass. "You could have just believed me, I never lied to you. I was never like that dirt bag Richie, or those pigs Rudolph and David."
Albert stood and turned off the record at the end of the first side, but just before the automatic player reset, sitting back down when he was finished. He only smiled at her confused glance before he picked up a remote from the end table and hit a primary button.
The corner of the room, opposite the record player, lit up, and a moment later Albert was pressing new buttons with a level of finesse that implied knowledge. The B side of the same album began to play and Albert set down the remote, smiling.
"Nerd," Beulah threw out, grinning.
"Only you would know," he said in throwback and continuing with "yokel," using their old joke. "It'll go on random after this, too."
"My Momma did always like you, Grammy too." Beulah looked at the cool bottle in between her legs as she spoke.
"I heard about your momma... I'm sorry Bee Lah... How is she doin'?" Albert did always like Beulah's mother, not to mention she made the best pound cake in the world and deserved recognition for it.
"Thanks. She's.. uh.. We sold her house. She's on hospice for the past month... not long." Beulah's words dwarfed the look on her face; a look Albert had forgotten that he missed. "She always did say: 'Nobody gets out alive.' "
"You could have listened to her." Albert uttered with longing, smiling in retrospect and agreement to her mother's favorite quote.
"Well, by the time I figured that out, I was pregnant. Then Steven and I got married. I never thought I would see you again..."
The two were silent for a passing instant before Beulah resumed. "I always knew you would be successful, I just didn't think you would end up here. I mean we are so far from home..." Beulah's look was wistful and longing to say the least.
"Me neither... I thought you didn't recognize me at Steven's first picnic."
"I was hoping you wouldn't recognize me. Ohmy, then you and Steven got along so well..." she actually batted her hand in his direction while she spoke; Albert so missed the Southern Belles, just being around her was bringing his lost accent back more and more.
"I was going to tell him about us." Albert looked guilty; he felt guilty.
"Then why didn't you?" Beulah suddenly appeared as he always remembered her; as he had not seen in so long: Alive, and perky, and ready to cause trouble. He had forgotten how it felt to be alone with her. As much as he had inflated her charms in his memories, they were still sub-par to the real deal.
"I.. uh.. Look, Bee, you have to go." Albert had missed her, yet he was feeling as if only yesterday they were shoulder to shoulder counting stars. He had especially missed this part of her: The part made for best friends and lovers; despite this, he was still unprepared for her boldness; he had been unprepared for her attitude in his youth, a thing she would quickly exploit in those days; all these years later and she was no different.
"...but you didn't, did you?" Her words and accent hung in the Northern air; it felt like hours before she spoke again, but Albert's hair was still crisp when she began to repeat herself.
"Why didn't you?" Beulah stood, cocking her head to the side while simultaneously slipping a thumb into the waistband of her skirt, and moving the other into the bottom of her shirt, exposing her belly button and lightened C scars as she settled with one hip up. She was fit and beautiful, all curves and thick; shadows of muscles across her stomach, arms, shoulders, and thighs mapped creation's plan for her shape.
Beulah had grown up, she had started eating, and she had been working out. Their mothers would be proud of her posture and form.
"I.. uh.." Albert was looking at his lap, trying not to stare at her, absently turning his head side to side. Her breasts were twice the size he remembered, and he could see her large nipples, exactly as he remembered. It was ten years since he took anything but an obscure glance of her.
"You still love me, don't you?" Beulah had a look of concern on her face when she asked, but still stood sexy with one hip up and a thumb sliding side to side under the waistband while the other thumb sat still.
"I.. uh.." Albert was still looking at his lap, still trying not to stare at her, and still absently turning his head side to side, slowly.
Beulah began to sway her hips to snake charm the motion of his head, falling in time with his movement. One of her exposed hips continually stopped higher than the other before changing direction, slowly turning his pace into her own.
Her magic was working. "Steven doesn't love me anymore. He hasn't loved me for fifteen minutes of the last two years." She began moving both of her thumbs under the waistband of her skirt, pushing it dangerously lower with each pass.
"Bee Lah.. I.. uh.. togo.." Albert set his bottle down and looked as if he were about to stand up and leave his own home, even if he was staring at her, and even if his head was still moving to and fro, but to her specifications.
He was enthralled, he could not move his body to the will of his racing thoughts; Beulah took immediate advantage, her speed surprised and returned him back into his seat. Before Albert knew what had happened, his head was against the cushion of the couch and each of Beulah's hands were on his respective thighs; the cute nose built for her face was nearly touching his own: Her mother had the same nose, Kaylee as well.
"My husband gave us permission, you know, and I want it to be you, Alby." Beulah's eyes were flashing behind their light blue rings.
"I know you're alone, I know you're clean, and I know you're a good man." Beulah was looking right into his eyes, yet Albert could only see her ample cleavage within the loosely hanging top and her small eraser nipples encircled by tiny bumps.