The Past

Author's Note: I realized after receiving many PMs that I should have made this clear when I wrote Chapter One: Cherry is a figment of my imagination. I am not her, and she is certainly not me. All of the characters in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Hello all. I have told you about my latest night out, and I am more than ready for another one. But first, I promised to introduce myself properly. So we're going to take a trip back in time so you can get to know me a bit better.

I'm Cherry. I grew up in a regular suburban home thirty minutes outside of Chicago. Pretty two-story house on a quiet cul-de-sac, two loving parents, and a protective older brother.

I knew at an early age that I was beautiful. Everyone told me so, from family and friends to strangers that would stop my mother in the grocery store to "ooh" and "aah" over me. She would beam with pride every time.

I had wavy blonde hair and bright, green-blue eyes framed by thick lashes. My complexion was flawless, even throughout puberty. As I became a young woman, I had a slim figure with curves in all the right places. I had full C, borderline D cup breasts by the beginning of my sophomore year.

I excelled in school without really trying. I was athletic and academically gifted. My senior year of high school I was the captain of the cheerleading squad, class president, and I graduated valedictorian.

I chalked it all up to good genes and great luck. I didn't take it for granted, but rather, I felt truly blessed.

I went on a few dates in high school, but never felt a spark or had any real connection with anyone special. That all changed at the beginning of second semester, my freshman year at Illinois State University.

Jake and I were randomly partnered up to complete a project together. We instantly became inseparable. He was so handsome, so sweet and sincere. He had longish light brown hair and hazel eyes, and the most adorable dimples. Within a week, I knew I wanted to be with him forever.

We had sex after six weeks of dating. He was my first. Jake told me that he had lost his virginity on the night of his senior prom, but it was over quickly and it wasn't with anyone special, so he considered me to be his first, too. It was pleasant, though I didn't understand why everyone made such a big deal out of it.

Jake and I dated exclusively throughout college, spending countless hours planning our future together. We would have a nice home and rewarding careers. We agreed on three kids-hopefully two boys and a girl. Jake was my world, and I was his. We had sex occasionally, and my opinion about it didn't change. It was okay, and sometimes it felt good, but I still didn't really get it.

Jake and I both graduated with degrees in architecture. I was class salutatorian, and he told how proud he was over and over again. We easily secured jobs after graduation, and moved into a small apartment in Chicago. We got married following winter, and within a year and a half, we had purchased a cute three bedroom, two bath home just a few miles from where I grew up, and where my parents still live today. I thought our sex life was satisfactory, though very vanilla. But I was perfectly content. We were building our dream.

Almost a year to the date after we moved into our house, sitting in a cold doctor's office, I discovered the fault in my genes. I would never be a mother. And more devastatingly, I would never make Jake a father.

We discussed the possibility of using a surrogate briefly, before I jumped into researching adoption. I tried to talk to him about it numerous times, but talk is all it would ever be. I could clearly see that Jake's heart was not in it anymore, and eventually, I stopped bringing it up at all.

Jake and I both dove headfirst into work to deal with our grief. My career jumped onto the fast track. Jake's did not. A year later I was earning twice his salary and making a name for myself while Jake floundered. The resent in his eyes every time he looked at me broke my heart. The pride he once had in me was gone.

I wanted to fix us. When I suggested that we take a vacation, Jake laughed at me, siting that he could not take time away from work. Next, I asked him to attend counseling with me. This made him uncharacteristically angry, and he shouted at me. "I don't need fucking therapy, Cherry! If you need it, then by all means, GO, but don't try to drag me into your bullshit!" He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. That was the first of many times that Jake spent the night at his office while I cried myself to sleep in our bed.

Through it all, I maintained hope that things would be okay, and Jake would find his way back to me. My good genes had failed me, but I was confident that my great luck would not. Then I got the call that changed everything. Jake had been in a car accident.

Now, hold up, before you get too torn up for Jake. He was fine. Mostly.

He suffered a concussion, several cracked ribs, and a broken wrist, among various bumps and bruises. It was enough to earn him several nights in the hospital.

I stayed by his side every moment, even though he told me repeatedly that it wasn't necessary. The morning following his second night there, I thought I would run home, shower and change clothes while he was passed out on pain meds.

After I cleaned up, I decided I would surprise him by bringing him his laptop. I knew he was stressed about missing work, and I thought if he could at least catch up on some emails it might make him feel better.

I went into our shared home office to fetch his computer. I popped it open to see if it needed a charge. And my world stopped.

Jake was halfway through the composition of an email, and it had nothing to do with work. This was a letter to a lover. My head spun as I started reading the words, hearing my husband's voice in my head, saying the words... "I can't stop thinking about the taste of your sweet pussy."

I closed my eyes as an old memory of a specific night in college surfaced. After having many conversations with my friends about what was happening in their very active sex lives, I asked Jake if he wanted to try going down on me. "Sarah said that her boyfriend really enjoys doing it..." I told him.

He did try, for about 12 seconds, poking his tongue around aimlessly, before telling me "It tastes weird". I tried to hide my disappointment. He offered to try again a few weeks later, but I declined. I didn't want to make him feel like he had to do something he wasn't comfortable with. Neither of us ever brought it up again.

I opened my eyes and read more: "I loved watching those big tits bounce when you were riding me." The tears that had been welling up in my eyes spilled down my cheeks as I thought of all the nights I spent on my back, wishing for some variety, but ultimately keeping quiet and settling for the same old missionary as always.

"My dearest Susie..." I read that letter at least ten times. He told her she had his whole heart, always...Exactly the words he used to write on Valentine and birthday cards to me. I backed out into his inbox and found at least twenty emails, most of them between him and Susie-she apparently loved the way he fingered her while he made her cum with his tongue. There were a few to other people, including one where he thanked someone named Starla for the "life altering blowjob."

I slammed the computer closed before hurling it at the wall. I sank down to the floor and wept, for what could have been hours or mere minutes, I have no idea. I let the pain wash over me in waves of torture, letting every thought, feeling, and emotion hurt as much as it wanted to. I already knew I was going to need that pain.

I lay on the office floor until I heard my cell phone ringing in the living room. I forced myself to get up. There was Jake's smiling face on the screen, and I suddenly hated those adorable dimples more than I had ever hated anything in my life. Nonetheless, I slid my finger across the screen.

"Hello," I croaked.

"Where are you? Cherry, I need you to get back here and tell these stupid fucking doctors to let me out of here. Tell them I don't need to stay here, that I have you to take care of me at home."

After a moment, I choked out one word. "No."

"No? What do you mean no, Cherry? I need you!"

I screamed then. "NO!!" I threw my phone into the fireplace with all my might. It didn't seem to harm it, which pissed me off. Soon it was ringing again, with Jake's face on the screen. I walked over, picked up a box of matches from the mantle, striking one and tossing it in. Finally, the phone was silent. Everything was silent. But not for long.

I set about ripping every photo of Jake and I from the walls, mantle, and shelves, and smashing them on the floor and stomping on them as I sobbed and screamed. I stood there for a moment, looking at the mess I had made. A strange, almost eerie calm came over me. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife from the block on the counter and an open bottle of cab from the wine rack. Then I headed up the stairs and into the master bedroom. My only thought was that there was no way he was ever going to lay Susie down in MY bed. I ripped the bedding off, carried it into the bathroom and threw it all into bathtub. I turned on the water to soak the comforter, then grabbed a bottle of bleach from below the sink and poured that in as well. When I was satisfied that it wouldn't be salvaged, I turned off the water and returned to the bed. Looking at the three thousand dollar mattress that Jake insisted was "a must," I became enraged. I picked up the knife and let the tears flow. I slashed that mattress to shreds with all my might before dousing it with wine.

I then returned downstairs and picked Jake's computer up off of the floor. It was not nearly as broken as I had intended when I threw it. I proceeded to print copies of the filthy, adulterous emails until the printer ran out of ink. The doorbell rang as I was littering the living room with hundreds of pieces of paper.

My parents were standing on the porch. I opened the door and watched the shock wash over my mother's face. I must have looked awful.

"Cherry! What is going on?! Jake called, said he couldn't get ahold of you..." Her voice trailed off as she looked past me into the house and took in the scene before her.

My father took me into his arms and squeezed me tight, whispering to me "whatever it is, it will be okay baby girl. We'll fix it." I let him hug me for a moment before pulling away.

"Mom. Dad. If you will just give me a moment to pack a bag, I'll be ready to go."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked upstairs, almost robotically. I grabbed a few changes of clothing and my toothbrush, nothing else.

One minute later I was in the backseat of my father's car, hot tears streaming down my face as I took one last look at the house that was supposed to be the home where Jake and I raised a family.

I spent a week in my childhood bedroom, hugging my tattered old teddy bear, Ross. Jake showed up twice, and I refused to see him. He called every day, and I refused to talk to him. I didn't eat. I barely slept. I overheard my parents discussing whether or not to seek medical advice.

Finally, I forced myself out of bed. I slipped my wedding band and engagement ring off of my hand and placed them in a pink jewelry box on the dresser. I watched the little ballerina spin to the lullaby coming from the box for a moment. Then I looked at myself in the mirror. I despised what I saw. "You're done crying," I told my puffy-eyed reflection. I took Ross the bear and headed downstairs to my dad's office to use his computer. Within 36 hours, I was on my way to the airport, bound for a job interview 1700 miles away.

The first thing I did after checking into my Las Vegas hotel room was find a salon. Soon my long blonde hair was chin-length, and the new violet-red shade gleamed in the desert sunlight. My interview was first thing in the morning, and it would be a brand new me walking into that room. My next stop was a clothing store. I dropped $1500 on a pair of tall black heels and a beautiful suit, sleek and sexy, and very different from the bland, understated JC Penney's attire I had always worn back home.

The interview was a huge success-my reputation had preceded me and my former boss had given me a glowing reference despite my abrupt departure. I was offered the position of a junior architect on the spot. A generous salary, amazing benefits, and a fat relocation allowance made it impossible to turn down. A new start.

Since I didn't have any belongings to relocate, I used the money for a security deposit and six months advance rent on a beautiful one bedroom apartment in a nice, safe building.

For a year I threw myself into my job, giving it everything I had. I didn't date. I didn't go out. I just worked. I was always the first to arrive and often worked late into the night. Jack, the nighttime doorman at my building, always looked happy to see me when I arrived home. I guessed him to be about 60 years old, round through the middle with twinkling light blue eyes that seemed to hold a lot of wisdom. He reminded me a bit of Santa Claus with his white beard and jovial nature.

I called my parents every Sunday to update them on my job. Sometimes I made up dates or outings with friends that didn't exist, just to comfort them. I didn't want them to worry. Other than Jack, and my occasional one-sided chats with Ross the teddy bear, those calls were my only social interaction. Any time my mother attempted to update me on Jake's life, I quickly shut her down. I made her and my father swear not to breathe a word about me or my whereabouts to anyone. I had cut off all contact with my friends back home and removed myself from social media entirely. My divorce had been finalized, and through my lawyer I had given Jake the house and all of its contents in exchange for a quick proceeding. Thankfully, we had always maintained separate bank accounts, and while he was careless with money, I saved everything I could. He had no idea how much money I had been squirreling away. I had planned to surprise him when we retired by taking him on a year long vacation around the world. That was never going to happen, but I kept saving what I could, for whatever my future alone was going to bring.

After 16 months, my hard work was rewarded. I was chosen to be among a small group of employees managing a huge project set to start the following spring. I was elated. The three other architects who were selected headed out together to celebrate. I doubt it ever crossed their minds to invite me, as I had never been even remotely social at work. I purposely maintained a politely reserved demeanor and kept myself at a safe distance from everyone.

I decided I deserved a drink too, even though I was alone. I had overheard some women at work talking about a bar that they liked, so I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address. I have a car, but rarely drive it. I prefer the ease of cabs, and skipping the hassle of parking.

When I arrived, I took a seat at the end of the bar. I tried not to pay attention to the men leering at me from all corners of the room. I didn't want to encourage anything.

I sipped my drink alone for a few moments before a man came and sat on the stool beside me. I tried to pretend I didn't notice him, but it was impossible.

He smiled at me, and I smiled back.

Encouraged, he said hello.

"Hi," I replied.

"I'm Alex. I'm here for a convention. You?"

"I'm Cherry," I replied. "I'm not here for a convention."

He looked pleased. "Oh, a local!" He smiled again. He was tall and very good-looking. His hair was dark, nearly black. His eyes were a deep, velvety brown. He looked to be about 35.

"Well," I said, "not exactly local. I'm a transplant. But it's home now."

"I see. What do you do, Cherry?" I saw him glance down at my left hand, no doubt checking for a wedding ring.

"I'm an architect. And you, Alex? What sort of convention are you in town for?" I found myself enjoying this flirty conversation immensely, and was surprised at how easily it was coming to me.

" Midwestern CPAs United," he chucked, looking slightly sheepish.

"Accounting," I said. "Very exciting." We both laughed.

I made a split-second decision to go all-in. "Tell me, Alex, where does a rowdy group of accountants get put up for a Vegas convention?"

"The Bellagio," he replied. Then he quickly added, "Executive suite."

"Do you want to show me?" I met his gaze and hoped I was conveying the intended message.

"Very much." He immediately stood up and placed his hand on the small of my back. I knew he was grinning at his friends as he led me toward the door. I wondered what the hell had come over me. I didn't know what would happen next, but I wanted to find out.

Within 20 minutes he was opening the door to his hotel room. He offered me a drink, which I politely declined, asking for a water instead. I sipped it as I watched him remove his tie and undo the first two buttons on his shirt before sitting on the bed and reclining back onto the pillows with his hands behind his head.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, with a devilish grin. He was so handsome.

I stood there for a moment before walking over to stand silently next to the bed. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at me.

"Cherry? Are you alright?" His hazel eyes held genuine concern.

I took a deep breath. Staring at the wall behind him, I muttered, "It's been a long time for me..." My voice trailed off pathetically.

He sighed. "Honestly, me too. My soon-to-be ex and I split about six months ago."

I dropped my eyes to meet his. "Longer. Much longer."

He smiled reassuringly. "We can take it as slowly as you need. I'm just happy you're here."

His authentic response sparked something inside me I didn't know existed. I held his gaze firmly as I stepped out of my heels. I took his face in my hands and leaned down to him, ready to experience my first real kiss with anyone other than Jake.

It was magical. His mouth was soft and inviting. His tongue met mine slowly, letting me set the pace. It intensified quickly, and I felt an unfamiliar heat creeping into my core. I clumsily reached down to unbutton his shirt. His hands covered mine as he broke our kiss and stood up. I watched with anticipation as he removed his shirt, then began undoing his belt. He was beautiful. Sculpted arms and an immaculate chest, sprinkled with the tiniest bit of hair. He dropped his slacks to the floor and stood before me, naked except for a pair of black boxer briefs. I could see that he had an erection, which was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

"When did they start making accountants that look like you?"

Alex laughed, and leaned down to continue kissing me. I shamelessly let my hands wander over his spectacular chest, then down to slide my fingers just below the waistband of his underwear. His reaction was encouraging. He inhaled sharply and pulled away to smile down at me.

I smiled back at him as I began unbuttoning my own top. He watched me intently as I removed it and stood before him in a pretty pink bra.

I had always loved sexy lingerie, it was a weakness of mine. It was one of the few frivolous things that I had been treating myself to since I was old enough to purchase it. I liked the feeling that I always had my own personal little secret hiding beneath my clothes. I was suddenly very grateful for that particular indulgence.

Alex seemed grateful as well. His eyes feasted on my chest as I unzipped my skirt and let it fall, revealing the matching pink panties. The tiny triangle of blonde hair was clearly visible through the pink lace. He licked his lips.