It took until Sunday afternoon for me to accomplish the beginning of the end of my marriage. The rest of the process that would turn me into an ex-husband took another four months, with many unpleasant moments along the way. It's not something I really want to dwell on, so suffice it to say that Gloria divorced me, though at least for the usual "irreconcilable differences" and not my sordid sex life. Since I was able to get very liberal visitation privileges with Little John, I was not too busted up about that. Yeah, my son is now the product of a broken home, but that was going to happen sooner or later, and maybe sooner will work out better for him.
So, there I was, almost 30 and single. Not quite as well off as before (she got the house and there was child support, which I didn't mind at all, and alimony for 2 years, which I did), but otherwise free to pursue whatever lifestyle I preferred.
That new lifestyle began with me packing a week's worth of clothes and some other stuff into the trunk of my car and making a call to Martha's answering service. They had a message for me, to park my car at space 212 in a certain garage in Evanston, where I would be met and brought the rest of the way to the condo on Sheridan.
When I pulled into the garage spot there was an SUV backed into 214, with the limo driver, Joyce, at the wheel and a guy I didn't know in the passenger seat. When I got out he got out and asked, "You John?" When I said I was he said, "My name's Sam. I work for Mary. Martha said you needed a lift to her place." I said I appreciated the help, and dragged my suitcase from my trunk to the back of the SUV. After we got that put away Sam put me in the back seat and resumed his shotgun position. On the short ride to the condo he explained that parking spots were at a premium in the building, and their cars used all they had been able to buy. That was about all we had time for before we got to the garage, where Joyce dropped us off. Sam did the bypass thing with the elevator so that it took us straight to the 6th floor. I pointed to the center door, he nodded yes and headed for the apartment on the right.
Martha answered my knock. It looked as though she'd just had a shower. She looked good in a fluffy robe, her hair still wet and straight. She smelled good. I realized I was happy that it was her who had opened the door and not Mary. It felt like my dick was happy to see her, too. Naturally, there had been no sex at home, so he had healed up nicely and seemed to be ready to return to action. Martha more than turned me on.
Once again I found myself hoping for a kiss. Once again I didn't get it. Martha said, "Come on in, but try to be quiet. They're all asleep." I carried my bag into the living room and she locked the front door, then motioned me to follow her across the living room and through the master bedroom. Mary, Thomas, Matthew and Luke were snuggled together like a bunch of newborn puppies. The sheets were tangled, the air smelled of sweat and sex and the bowl of used condoms on the bedside table was half full.
When we got to the screen, Martha moved it aside, revealing a door. She turned the lock and opened it, then opened the door on the other side and motioned me through into what turned out to be an apartment that was the mirror image of the one I had just left - at least as far as the floor plan was concerned. Aside from the kitchen, which was pretty much the same, the furnishings in the rest of the condo were more traditional, given to heavier wood with a lot of leather upholstery. Notably missing were all the mirrors in the master bedroom. And in he living room I felt the absence of the picture in the other apartment that had caught my attention. That disappointed me. I wanted to spend some time with it, and I had a feeling that my time in Mary's apartment would be occupied by other things.
I could tell that someone read a lot, or wanted you to think they read a lot, because the living room had a four-section book-case along one wall, the top two shelves full and the third filling up. Eclectic, even if I could not read the titles, with the books ranging from leather-covered hardbacks to trade paperbacks with what looked like a half shelf of textbooks thrown in. My guess was that this wasn't for show, otherwise it would have been more consistently high-tone.
After we crossed the living room, Martha took me into the second bedroom. Another big bed, but again without all the mirrors on the ceiling and walls. Pretty basic, really. A good place to rest. Actually, the whole apartment seemed more restful for some reason. Of course, one good orgy might change all that, but for now it felt peaceful, which I suddenly realized is what I needed after all the excitement of Friday night, and the drama that followed when I got home.
Martha must have sensed my fragility, because she turned, took my suitcase which she dropped on the floor, and leaned in and hugged me tight. After awhile she turned her head up and looked into my eyes, I finally got that kiss I had been hoping for. A nice, slow, deep kiss that went on for what seemed like minutes. I could feel her breasts pressed against me, and she could no doubt feel my cock stiffening between us.
Eventually we broke the kiss, though not the hug. I was coming to like this woman more and more. What a contrast she offered to the Gloria I had just left. Way too heavy a thought, so I just said, "Something I can do for you ma'am?"
"Most definitely, but later. You know, you guys aren't the only ones who can get worn out from sex. Right now my cunt's a bit sore. And we need to talk."
"Sure, where would you like to do that?" I asked.
"Can you lie on a bed with a woman and still think with your big head?"
"Believe it or not, I'm pretty disciplined. If that's what's on the menu, big head it is. Though I'm also very flexible if she were to decide it was the little head she really wanted to talk to".
"Good, I could use some rest," she said as she led me into the master bedroom, like Mary's without most of the mirrors. "Let's lie down here and talk." She reached into the drawer of a bedside table and came up a pair of the padded handcuffs like she had used on me in the other apartment. "If it would help keep your hands out of the game, I can l offer you these."
"Actually, those might not help me keep my mind on whatever it is you want to talk about. Let's go with willpower for now."
Martha put the cuffs back in the drawer and lay down - on "my side" of the bed as it happened. Ah well, not my house, and being on the wrong side of the bed was a decent price to pay for crawling into it with her.
Once we were settled, with a good six inches between us, Martha said, "Right now I know a lot about you. Those reports that Mike got on you guys didn't stop with the local cops and D&B. As best I can tell, except for being a sex addict, you're a plain whitebread sort of guy. Respectable academic record, very nice job with a very nice salary to start and three good raises in your first three years. Healthy bank balance, even healthier 401(k). You pay off your credit cards every month. Not a whiff of drugs. No kiddie porn, much less the real thing. Fairly frequent visitor to local swinger clubs this last year. I guess that's when you marriage hit the skids. Sometimes alone, usually with a lady and usually a different lady from the ones before. You don't seem to have any racial or ageism prejudices, or at least your dick doesn't. If you're bi, that hasn't shown up yet.
