This is my second "Kiersten" story. There will be more, until her story is told. This is an older Kiersten: think late 30s, and it was originally written as a story for the "Imma Bad Bitch" group of stories by women writers. That isn't going to happen. Some may post stories, individually. My apologies for building anticipation.
I am grateful to my team. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. Sbrooks103x also gives me a pre-post read. My editors are Girlinthemoon, Hale1 and GeorgeAnderson. I thank you all, Randi.
Pain is never something that I enjoyed. I'm pretty tough, as bearing two children should make obvious, and physical pain I could handle, if not enjoy, but I always tried to avoid emotional pain. No one is successful at that, of course, but you do what you can. I was bringing some pain of my own.
I had another email from Ryan. I never responded to any of them. I ignored all attempts at communication. He had 12 years to communicate with me. He chose not to do so on the most important things about which we should have. It was a bad decision.
Now he was begging again. "Please, Kiersten, I'm sorry. How many times do you want me to say it? How long are you going to punish me?"
Our marriage ended with a look. It was a certain sort of look: the way a predator looks at their prey. It held speculation, a hint of contempt, some superiority and danger for me. For the first time, I felt my husband's eyes on me and he was looking at me as an object to be used, not as his partner, friend and lover. That was the beginning of the end.
It had only been four years. He was paying me in installments for the 12 years I had wasted on him. He was paying for the pain of our children, for the emotional wreck he'd made of me, for the best friend since the second grade he'd cost me.
Oh, I'd moved on; I was more successful, personally and professionally, than I'd ever been, but Ryan wasn't.
Neither was Jolene. They were pretty much struggling. I did what I could to make them struggle. My divorce had not been friendly, and neither had Jolene's. Her husband seemed to be pretty unhappy with her, and they didn't make it. I only had three pictures, but it was enough. Catching your best friend smashing with your husband in your bed is hard on the old self-esteem.
I never understood. Jolene wasn't in my class, in looks, brains or charisma. I had loved her because she was Jolene. She had moved to my school in the second grade, and we had been best friends up until the day I discovered she was banging my husband. She was reasonably attractive, but from the short time I watched them, she was a lazy fuck. Any pussy in a storm, I guess. It still made me take a close look at myself.
Was I unattractive, physically, or emotionally? It seemed to me that I still had the same body I had when I graduated from high school. It was better, in fact. My tits had grown, my hips swelled a bit, and I had worked my little ass off after the kids were born to get back to that 24-inch waist. I was all muscle and silk, and men stared at me, so I knew it wasn't that.
I loved to fuck. Ryan certainly wasn't being short-changed in the sexual department. There was little in the way of sexual activity that I didn't thoroughly enjoy. I loved giving head, and I sucked his dick regularly, just because I liked doing it. I heard men talk, and I listened to my women friends. I was under the impression that few men had their wives ask to suck their dick on a regular basis. I certainly wasn't into anal, or other unsanitary and painful things, but I was certainly horny and ready to drop my panties any time Ryan was in the mood.
Maybe I was a bitch. I thought about that. My friends all seemed to like me. I certainly COULD be a bitch, if the occasion called for it, but I didn't know anyone who seemed to think I was. I asked John, at work, if he thought I was a bitch. He looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"No, um... you can be a little... intimidating, Kiersten, but it's because you're so hot and you don't put up with any BS. Why are you asking me this?"
"I'm conducting a survey," I told him. "I think I may need to improve my resting bitch face."
He laughed. "I'd say you've got that one down. You're not a bitch, Kiersten. Everyone who knows you loves you; they just know not to give you shit."
That was comforting. John was a straight-shooter. He would give me the honest dope to an honest question. He was only a little afraid of me, and we were as in love as any strictly platonic friends could be. He'd seen me in action a couple of times. He knew I came from NCS before I became a contractor, so he was wary, but we were pals.
I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror after I left his office. I was looking good! I took a selfie and snapped my friend, Regan. I'd had a steam treatment, a facial, my nails done and I was on fleek.
I went back to the office I'd been assigned while I was there and looked at my email again. This email was because Ryan had lost another job. I kept an eye on him. I was kind of a big deal in our region. Everyone in our field knew who I was and depended, in one way or another, on services I provided. Those who didn't found out rapidly. Ryan had been hired 11 times in that four years. He even took a job two states away. It didn't help. His past came back to bite him. I didn't mind him working, just not in his field or for the kind of money he wanted.
Jolene was a schoolteacher, and she had lost her tenured position, two other positions and was not finding life a bed of roses, either. Yeah, it was petty, but I wasn't going to get violent with them. A girl has to retain her sense of self-respect. They were really in no physical danger from me, though they didn't know that. They took great pains never to be in my presence.
The pain they'd inflicted was emotional. That was what they were reaping. I'd heard of people going wack and murdering their spouse and the lover. As tempting as that sounded two hours after I caught them, I was in shock and could barely summon the presence of mind to take those three pictures. Then I was in pain and just wanted to get away from the site of the pain. I was angry later, but by then, I'd become human. Animals lash out; humans have higher brain functions and can plan. I had a big brain and I used it.
Besides, I pretty much stopped caring once I got through the initial stages of grief and anger. I was pissed off beyond belief, but more because I'd wasted my time loving pathetic people. Loving people who don't love you is also pathetic. Kiersten Bayer wasn't pathetic.
Ryan lost his job, right away. Putting yourself at risk of blackmail or extortion by having affairs with your wife's best friend doesn't play well when it comes to having the clearances he needed to work in SIGINT. Since he didn't have an income, a home (that became mine as per the prenuptial agreement), or transportation other than public, I was awarded full custody of the kids.
The raggedy-ass lawyer he was able to retain didn't put up much of a fight. Since mine worked for my Aunt's firm and no one wanted to fuck with her or the kind of influence she could bring to bear, Ryan basically got nothing.
Teachers seem to have morals clauses in their contracts that void even tenure. Having pictures of you banging a married man who is not your husband floating around in cyberspace seems to trigger those clauses. I'd heard that the students at her school made them go viral on cell phones.
It had become something of a little hobby for me. If I was bored, it became "fuck with Ryan and Jolene" time. They knew it was me, of course. They'd occasionally try to fight back, but I was no dummy. Anyone with my tech savvy knows how to do things on the net low-key without leaving a trace. I got good at doxing people. Not ordinary people, just Ryan and Jolene.
Ryan had just lost his new job as a systems consultant in networking at his latest company. He couldn't keep the network running, even with the help of a pretty good IT department. These hackers...
"How long are you going to punish me?" Well, I was planning for 12 years. I didn't spend a lot of time at it. I had two little angels who took up most of my time, apart from business. Deirdre and Fiona had just turned 10, and they were precocious as fuck. Yes, I know you're supposed to name twins ridiculous rhyming names. Fuck that shit, I liked the ones I chose. They were about as different as two girls with the same parents could be, in any case. Deirdre was an athlete, an extremely physical child who seemed perpetually dirty from the day she was born. Fiona was just as athletic, but she was totally female: a little sorceress. She worked her wiles and few were immune, including her much rougher sister.
They were a team, and though they sometimes fought like hornets, they were fierce as hell when it came to anyone else who interfered with them. They shared the same intense green eyes, but Deidre had hair as black as a raven's wing, and Fiona was a redhead. They were going to break hearts in a few years, and I dreaded the drama.
I deleted the email and took the rest of the day off. I was feeling good. It was summertime, and when I got home the girls told me they were going riding. "Wow, Fiona, won't you get, like, dirt on you?" I asked.
She gave me an eye-roll. "Whatever. Mom, is it okay if we spend the night at Lindsey's?"
"It's okay with me," I said. "Does Lindsey's mom know about this invasion?"
"No, Mom, we were planning to surprise her," Deirdre said.
"Ah, well, I'm sure she likes surprises," I assured them.
That got me twin eye-rolls. "What are you going to do?" Deirdre asked.
"I dunno. Prolly just chill, drink some wine and read," I said.
"This would be a great time for you to go on a date," Fiona informed me.
I made a production of going to the door and looking outside. "My date hasn't arrived," I told them.
"Unless it's a burglar and breaks into our house, he never will arrive," Deirdre said. "God, Mom, if you ever did anything besides hang with us and work, maybe you could actually meet someone. You know, like a man?"
"They'd leave the toilet seat up in your bathroom," I said. "We don't need no stinking men."
That cracked their stern demeanor. They were constantly on a crusade to get me a date. Every single man they met was carefully scrutinized as "date" material for their dear old mom. They'd set me up three times before I wised up to their shenanigans. It was embarrassing as hell, too.
"I saw the new dress you got," Fiona told me.
"And how did you see that?" I asked.
"I needed a t-shirt to sleep in so I was borrowing one of yours," she explained.
"Girl, sleep in your own damn clothes," I said. "No wonder I never have anything clean to wear with you two stealing my stuff all the time. And I want my hoodies back!"
Deirdre laughed. "Just wait until we're big enough to really wear your stuff."
Not to be deterred, Fiona plunged ahead. "I love the dress, Mom. It just screams "Take me out!" I know; why don't you call Regan and go to a club or something with her? Maybe you'll meet a hot guy."
