A Simple Twist Of Fate 3

The apartment was sterile. It had the feel of a hospital, and its white walls and soulless art radiated sickness. In its perfection, it was disgusting. Scott gave Stacey forty-eight hours to "do something" with her belongings and leave. Exiting her bed with her down, still groggy, she slowly marched towards the bathroom and filled up her tub with hot water. Usually, she took showers, but today she had different plans.

As the water ran she looked in the mirror and studied her face. She was beautiful and she knew it, she never needed validation. She could see slight lines under her eyes, this was the only evidence of her toil, of working six or seven days a week and only getting four to five hours of sleep a night.

She stepped into the tub and thought about her life and the choices she had made. She slid under the water, letting herself become fully submerged in the tub. She tried to relax. The idea was to resist the temptation to breath. Stacey imagined Scott finding her blue and bloated body floating in the tub. She imagined the people that worked under her feigning sadness while privately cheering in their head. "The evil bitch had it coming!" The closest thing her ambition got her to friends were allies. Stacey was desperately alone and it was entirely her own doing.

Stacey looked up through the tiny distorted ripples of the bath water. White tile, spotless white tile. She blew bubbles through her nose, this was the first inkling of desperation. The battle had begun. Her body screamed at her to surface. Stacey knew that the body's drive to survive would send her into a panic, but eventually her body would give in and let her feel calm. Stacey closed her eyes, she didn't want to see the sickeningly sterile white tiles. Her brain searched for some beautiful memory to focus on. She remembered her wedding day. It too was repugnantly clean, it was so perfect that is was almost staged, it was never Scott she loved, just the idea of him. Stacey knew there was something wrong with her, every image she conjured brought up the same feelings of disgust, every memory that should have been a triumph was in some way wrong. It was all a lie!

Stacey's body desperately told her to surface, she forced herself deeper into the warm water. Her body twitched and writhed. It was a struggle between her intellect and her instinct. Two separate wills within the same body in a life or death struggle. Something inside her told her that she must continue to live, but vindictiveness and self-hatred are strong motivators as well. She stayed under as long as she could, but the calm never came. Her instinct claimed victory. She surfaced, breathing heavily, her lips were blue, her wet hair fell all over her face, her breasts rose and sunk rapidly as she began to cry, overwhelmed and helpless. She was like a child crying loud cries is tortured hysteria. She would have to face the world for the first time as her true imperfect self.

***

She wasn't married long enough to change her name. She was still Stacey Hinckley. She drove through the endless abyss that is northern Nevada. It is the kind of place so barren, that forces one to look inward. She was, of course listening to "Blood on the Tracks." The desert landscape stretched for miles. She had time to think, maybe too much time to think. How did it ever go so wrong? She was the successful one, the one her family bragged about, the one that made people jealous. She was the Valedictorian of her high school and graduated from Stanford as a Summa Cum Laude. Just a few months ago she was a 31-year-old executive in a PR and Marketing Firm in San Francisco. Newspapers interviewed her, people feared and admired her. She was married to an equally successful man and they were looking to buy a house in Walnut Creek.

It was an affair with an older married investment banker that exposed her. She begged Scott not to leave her, but her affair crushed his ego and he was not willing to forgive the betrayal. No counseling, no long argument, just a clean sterile end. The investment banker's marriage fell apart as well. Stacey was faced with the epitome of shame. It was all too much for her to take, she could no longer pull off the facade of perfection. It wasn't even a year after her lavish wedding in Lake Tahoe that she had to confess to her family that she was getting a divorce. This was the hardest part, admitting a failure, a major failure at that. It was palatable how much her family and former schoolmates back in Utah reveled in her failure. Stacey could tell that it was somehow cathartic for them to know that Stacey Hinckley was indeed a human being. Now for reasons she wasn't even fully aware of she was heading back into the world that she left long ago. She was bound for Salt Lake City.

The common conception is that women stray in relationships to achieve some sort of new emotional connection with another lover. Stacey felt no real feelings for the investment banker, no desire for anything more than a good time, it was really only lust. It was her own sexual drive that led to her shameful divorce and that was a hard pill to swallow. Her now ex-husband Scott had enjoyed his twenties, he wouldn't even tell Stacey how many women he slept with, he said he lost count. Yet Scott didn't seem to be interested in exploring his sexuality with Stacey. Scott was boring. It was so cliche, Stacey couldn't believe she made the mistake she did. She risked and lost her stable marriage for the excitement of a torrid affair. At least the investment banker didn't have any hang-ups like Scott, he fucked her in ways that Scott wouldn't.

It was Scott's mindset, that either a woman was a wife or a whore. He couldn't bare to see his beautiful bride, the future mother of his children as a sexual being. So in Scott's eyes Stacey went from standing on a pedestal of sexless admiration, to being regarded as the vilest whore alive. She was no longer clean. Stacey tried to explain; she fucked up, it was a stupid mistake, it meant nothing. None of those things mattered to Scott. To him, she was now a dirty whore. He never shed a tear, he never raised his voice, but he did make her know she was worthless.

She took a job as a Vice President for a database management company in Salt Lake City. This was in part to save face. The title Vice President sounded important when she said "Vice President" the job sounded like a promotion. The truth was that the job was less than lateral, it was actually a significant pay decrease. Stacey would miss the weather, the beauty and the youthful energy of San Francisco. Yet it was now soiled by her divorce.

As she drove through the desert, she questioned herself and her decisions. She purposely didn't take many possessions with her. All she had was her Prius, her laptop and a small wardrobe of business suits. She was wearing a suit now, a black sheath dress, she wore an undershirt with a white collar. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, she was wearing oversized dark glasses that were currently hiding her stunning and intense deep blue eyes. Her face exuded authority and confidence, yet somehow Stacey still looked youthful. This was not a natural state, Stacey worked tirelessly in front of the mirror to perfect the perfect executive look. Over time, it became second nature. Even in her current state, even alone, she kept her expressions aloof and detached.

In San Francisco, she was considered an "evil bitch" by her underlings. She was young and a woman, if she did not strike fear into those who worked under her, she would never get the results she needed. Her reputation as an "evil bitch" was clearly hypocritical as she was no different from the equally ambitious male executives. The truth was, people resented being told what to do by someone so much younger and it killed them to know that she was generally smarter and more qualified than just about anyone.

All of Stacey's life people had despised her for her ambition, beauty, and sheer perfection. Her serious attitude and drive separated herself from her peers at an early age. Her look and mannerisms reflected this separation. She floated above the fray. She achieved great things but made few friends.

Stacey never played up her looks, she hid her body well underneath her usually conservative business suits. The fact was, though, her beauty was almost impossible to hide. Stacey had an hourglass figure and a washboard stomach. The high-heeled shoes she usually wore did nothing but enhance her long powerful legs and large posterior. Stacey was a bombshell, she could have been a movie star or a model. Stacey knew this, it was plain to see, but she did not want to use her body or her looks to be successful, instead she insisted on using her willpower and intelligence. She wanted to be a shining example, she wanted to break the glass ceiling into oblivion, she wanted to be on the cover of magazines and to be interviewed by journalists. In San Francisco, she was on her way. Now it was all gone.

As she drove Stacey's mind was torturing her again. She was preoccupied yet again with sex. Her entire adult life she had felt it prudent to suppress her sex drive. She had to. If she let her sex drive run her life she could not achieve what she desired out of life. She wasn't suppose to be sexual, she was a leader, an example, a righteous member of society's upper echelon. Yet as she suppressed her sexual nature she felt like a statue, an inanimate object, and barely a human. She tricked herself into believing her nature was beneath her. This is why she hated herself for the affair, it was a momentary lapse, her first dalliance into debauchery, it was downright unfair, that this first slip-up led to such punishing consequences.

As Stacey drove, she thought about men, all types of men; strangers, men she knew, archetypes and celebrities. She imagined them with her in all the ways she wanted. She was tired of hating herself.

Stacey pulled her car into a gas station in the middle of nowhere in northern Nevada. She was blasted by the heat as she stepped out of her car. She dusted off her black sheath business suit. She took off her dark glasses and threw them onto the unused passenger seat. Stacey looked up and was temporarily blinded by the sun, she was forced to squint and shade her face with her hand. She could feel a thin layer of dust sweep against her body as she put her credit card into the gas pump. As she pumped her gas, a man caught her eye. He was also pumping gas, he was filling up a small truck. The truck was rusted, the front windshield was badly cracked. The man himself was a curious sight. He had long brown stringy, sweaty hair, yet he wore a suit. it was a fashionable suit that fit him well, the man had a strange allure. Stacey believed he was some type of musician based on the guitar case resting snugly fastened by a seat belt into the passenger side of the man's truck. The man noticed Stacey as well. Both of them looked like fish out of water in their current environment, it was clear that both her and this man were simply passing through.

Stacey imagined he was her antithesis, yet somehow a kindred soul. He was handsome and most likely talented, yet he didn't seem to chase money. Stacey imagined a folk musician or a classical guitarist who refused to compromise his art. Stacey thought deeper, she was giving the man a backstory simply because she was attracted to him, she wanted to imagine a situation in which they would forge an unlikely romance. Stacey realized that this was an unrealistic and unnecessary endeavor. The man was a stranger, she liked the mystery, romance be damned, she wanted sex.

Maybe it was loneliness, maybe the isolation, maybe the unprecedented time to herself, but Stacey started to have wild racing thoughts. These thoughts intrigued her and tempted her. Her usual defenses against her own desires were compromised. Stacey watched keenly as the man walked into the convenience store, the gasoline still pumping into his truck. Seconds later he emerged with a key attached to a brick and walked up to the bathroom door which was located on the outside of the building, he unlocked the door and let himself in. Stacey looked around the empty dust filled the desert landscape, a single car buzzed by, Stacey's hair slightly shifted, she smiled and bit her bottom lip. She began to walk towards the bathroom door.

Her heart was racing, she paused standing by the door. Closing her eyes, she gently turned the knob of the bathroom door. It was locked. Stacey swallowed, she examined the door, white spray paint was scribbled everywhere. Stacey heard the faint sound of the water running, soon the stranger would open the door and if Stacey didn't walk away he would immediately be faced with her looming next to him, it would be awkward and embarrassing. Stacey didn't know what she was doing, she was getting cold feet. She had no clear plan, but she knew that if she didn't walk away, she would have to give into the stranger's allure.

Then before she could turn around, the stranger opened the door and was startled by Stacey's presence. Without thinking, she approached him, putting her face near his, backing him slowly back into the bathroom. He was wordless, he was probably too shocked to say anything. Once in the bathroom Stacey kissed him and he reciprocated. Stacey felt a surge of adrenaline and sexual desire. She closed the door behind her and continued with her aggression. He smelled strangely good, his perspiration was odorous but still slightly pleasing. Still aggressing, Stacey pushed the stranger back and pushed his shoulders down so that he sat on the toilet. The more Stacey looked at the stranger the more attracted she became, his dark eyes, looked bewildered, yet somehow comforting. There was an immediate raw and visceral connection between the two of them.

As the bathroom light flickered, Stacey could see graffiti all over the disgusting bathroom. The mirror was broken, grains of sand were strewn about the concrete floor. Brown and gray stains covered the walls. The bathroom was obviously not regularly maintained, it was obscene. Stacey began to unbutton her collar, the Stranger watched in silence.

Wasting no time, Stacey removed her dress and let if fall on the filthy floor, she revealed her black lace bra and panties. The stranger let out a deep breath of approval when Stacey unclasped her bra to reveal her pert breasts. Stacey stepped out of her high heels and pushed them away with her feet. Looking the stranger directly in the eyes, with a lusty stare Stacey slowly removed her panties sliding them down her legs, they stepping out of them, revealing her completely and totally naked body.

The stranger examined her from head to toe, he saw her delicately trimmed bush and let out a subtly exhale of approval. Stacey lowered herself to her knees. Her knees harshly pressed into the cold hard concrete floor, small grains of sand embedded themselves into her flesh. Stacey breathed deeply and slowly unzipped the stranger's pants, she reached through the fly of the stranger's black boxer briefs and gripped his rock hard cock. Stacey swooned, it was long and thick, longer and thicker than either of the men she had been within the last year. She pulled the Stranger's cock out of his fly exposing his shaft. Stacey's mouth began to water as she lusted after the large circumcised cock. She kissed the cock's head and looked up at the stranger with a fierce lust. With her free hand, she felt her own wet arousal and then she spit on the stranger's cock.

He let out a delightful little moan, as Stacey began to suck. She worked the cock slowly, sliding her wet lips and tongue over the shaft, she moaned muffled moans as she intimately felt the smooth flesh of the cock's shaft. She briefly looked up at the handsome stranger as she slowly sucked him off, his eyes were closed, he was basking in the physical pleasure of Stacey's fellatio. He was seemingly tuning everything else out. Stacey meanwhile reveled in her debauched state. She felt more naked and vulnerable than she ever had before. Her position on her knees, opened her to the stale air of the filthy bathroom, each time she bobbed her head, she felt the putrid air touch her asshole. The situation was uneven. The stranger was still in his suit, with only his cock shaft exposed, yet Stacey was fully and completely nude. Her hands harshly gripped her naked thighs, as she sucked deeper on the stranger's cock.

She stopped her fellatio and reached into the Stranger's fly again, this time feeling his balls. To Stacey's surprise, he was shaved, approving of this revelation she hastily pulled them out of the fly and greedily licked, lapped and sucked. She jacked him off with her hand. She but his balls in her mouth tasting their sweat and enjoying it. Stacey couldn't help but moan, as she licked and sucked on the stranger's balls. Unable to think straight from the pure adrenaline and ecstasy Stacey started to again suck the stranger's cock.

He moaned out, and she could feel his hands lightly touch her hair then recede. Stacey appreciated the stranger's restraint, yet she longed for him to be rough. She looked at him with her intense blue eyes, continuing to suck his cock passionately. She did not blink, the stranger matched her stare. Then wild and rapturous he pulled at his hair. Stacey felt a small spurt of semen in her mouth. She reached out and grabbed the stranger's hand and placed it on top of her head, beckoning him to push her mouth down on his cock. To fuck her mouth.

There she was, a powerful business woman on her knees completely naked in a rank and disgusting gas station bathroom. A mostly clothed stranger pushing her mouth down harshly on his cock. She gagged, drool and cum dripping out of her mouth. She felt his cock slam against the back of her throat, she felt his soft balls press against her chin. It was dirty, deplorable, shameful, humiliating and degrading, yet she had never felt so aroused. She had never felt so alive. She gripped her thighs with her hands, her nails slightly breaking her flesh. Semen and Saliva were now trickling out of Stacey's mouth and onto the stranger's balls, as well as splattering on the cold concrete floor, almost immediately blending in with the other putrid stains.

The stranger began to tremble, his cock began to contract in Stacey's mouth. A loud guttural moan emanated from the stranger's mouth. Stacey felt a harsh spray of salty semen hit the back of her throat. She felt his cock contract and pulsate in her mouth, spewing semen harshly. It seemed to never end, Stacey felt as though was nearly drinking semen. She swallowed several times, each time letting a mouthful of semen slide down her throat. Semen was dripping out both corners of Stacey's mouth, long strands of cum dangled from her face. As he tilted his head back in organismal relief she bobbed her head up and down, her aim was to suck his cock clean. She licked the semen and saliva off of his balls thoroughly. Then she went back to the shaft, licking the last of the cum off of the cock, she reveled in pleasure, seemingly unwilling to take the stranger's cock out of her mouth. When she finally fell back on her haunches, her ass making contact with the cold concrete floor, she looked at the stranger and wiped her face off with her bare forearm. She looked like something wild, like something uncontrolled, an animal. She quickly stood up, her feet stepped in her own juices. She rushed to put her dress back on, leaving her underwear and undershirt in the bathroom. She picked up her high-heeled shoes in the dank bathroom. She thought she heard the stranger say something as she walked away, but she did not stop.

Once in her Prius Stacey wasted no time, she put her car seat back as far as she could and leaned backward. She hiked up her dress and began to vigorously caress her now exposed clitoris. Her bare foot pressed against the front windshield of her car. She moaned loudly and passionately as she pleasured herself. Her car window was opened a crack and anyone within earshot would know exactly what was happening. This was the epitome of hedonism and recklessness, it was shameful. Stacey at that moment owned her shame, she owned her recklessness, and she lived in perfect harmony with her nature. Stacey's car was locked, if anyone wanted her to stop they would have to smash her window.