Heartaches

HEARTACHES REDISTRIBUTED

(This story owes the basic plot to

BigGuy33's Independence Day

. It's a great story. This one diverges quickly, though. I asked for permission to do another version of the story, but got no reply. So I reworked my original version quite a bit. The framework -- impotence due to a heart problem and a young replacement, comes from his story. Most of what's in this one has to be blamed only on me.)

There are many sorts of heart problems. Some of them can be solved, some not.

Rick Blaine was late to his poker night with his friends. He played every Friday night, with the same -- almost same -- group of buddies. Rick had forgotten his wallet. Not so good a thing to forget when going to a poker game. He didn't pull into his garage, just parked on the street. He walked slowly up the sidewalk, unlocked the door. As he went inside, he heard some commotion from upstairs. Squeek, squeak, squeak. He knew that sound, his bed being used for sex. While it had been over a year since he had been able to have an erection, he still recalled the noise. He and his wife Ilsa had owned that same squeeky bed since they had been married almost twenty-five years before. Their two children had been conceived there. Now, so far as Rick could tell, his wife was using it for another purpose, or with another person. He walked up the stairs.

Rick was suffering from a heart problem. He had been for about a year. During that time, he had been unable to sustain an erection. He had been told not to use Viagra, but did it anyway -- to no avail. He could and did still have sex with his wife, Ilsa. He just had to use his fingers, tongue and some devices. Apparently, Ilsa hadn't found that to be enough. Rick was fifty-eight, and Ilsa was fifty-two. They met and married when he worked at a big computer company and she was a secretary there. Since that time, Rick had started his own company programming for security firms, and for gamers. He had done quite well. Their house was his from before the marriage, and he knew everything about it. That's how he could avoid the noisy step on the way up the stairs. In deference to his weakened state, Rick didn't go directly to the bedroom. He went to his den, opened the gun safe and got out his 1911A Colt .45. He slipped in a magazine and walked toward the bedroom. He shoved the door open, not gently and then racked a shell into the chamber. That sound provoked a frantic response from the naked young man between his wife's legs. He leapt up, off the bed. Rick pointed the gun directly center mass.

"One more step, and you're dead." He didn't shout. But he meant every word, and the guy seemed to get this.

Ilsa screamed, "No, Rick, no. I...I asked him. Please, please."

Rick stepped back away from the door, still pointing the gun.

"Your name?" He demanded.

"Brady Black. Don't shoot. She said you approved, since you were impotent. I swear!"

"Pick up your clothes and get the fuck out of my house. Don't let me see you around here again."

"Rick, it isn't his fault." Ilsa was still pleading.

"OUT!" Brady scooped up his clothes, grabbed sneakers and tore out the door. Rick followed him. Saw him out the front door, and slammed it. By that time Ilsa had a robe on and was coming down the stairs.

"Rick, you overreacted. I....I need real sex. So, I got Brady. He comes by on Friday nights while you play poker. He sees to my needs."

"He's maybe twenty. What the fuck. Why haven't you talked to me about this?"

"I thought you'd be angry. I'm not depriving you of anything. I'm just getting laid, like you can't do. I think it's fair."

"Nah, get your shit packed. This is my house, and you're not welcome here." Rick unloaded the pistol.

"I mean it. You need to leave."

"I will not leave. I've lived here for twenty-five years. I will not leave."

"Tell you what, bitch. I'm going to the bedroom. I'm going to take a shower. If you're still here when I come out everyone will greatly regret it. Your regret won't last long."

That's what he did. He took a long shower, tried to calm down. He did calm down somewhat. Nevertheless, when he dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, he took his gun, reloaded, back downstairs.

The house was empty and Ilsa's car was gone. He locked up, went to bed. But he slept in his office.

When he woke up, he needed coffee. He slowly walked down the stairs. His heartbeat was irregular, and he was weak.

Ilsa was there. Not only was she there, but his daughter, son and their spouses were there. His two teenage granddaughters were also present. Rick was almost physically ill when he saw that. He wanted to shoot Ilsa dead right there. But the gun remained upstairs.

"Not a single one of you should be here. I WILL call the police and have you evicted." He reached for the phone next to him.

"Dad, stop. We need to talk about this." This was his son.

Ilsa said, "Rick I love you. But you can't satisfy me. I just want one night a week with someone who can....help. I've explained this to the family. I believe they all agree."

"Is that right? You all agree?"

One by one the nodded.

His daughter said, "Mom has a right to some satisfaction. It doesn't interfere with you and her. It seems reasonable to us. You never knew a thing until tonight."

"How long?" This was directed at Ilsa.

"You don't need details. You can simply go play cards on Friday night. When you get home, everything is as it was when you left."

"Ilsa, you have brought the entire family here. You have embarrassed me, mortally embarrassed me, in front of almost everyone I love. That's a betrayal beyond just fucking some boy. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE IT!"

All the people in the room shrank away from Rick when he screamed these words.

"You're all dead to me." He walked slowly up the stairs. He went into his den/office. He began packing his things up, including his guns, his financial papers, and other things he might need. He then went to the master bedroom. Ilsa was there, stripping the bed. He completely ignored her. He packed a duffle bag with clothing and shoes. He got his razor, toothbrush and deodorant, put them in a small case. He stopped and thought for a while. Ilsa had remade the bed. She had left with the soiled sheets.

Rick methodically packed his pick up with his clothes and other things. He packed up his computer. Rick had a cash stash in his gun safe -- ten thousand dollars, in case of emergencies. He put it in a small carry bag with his computer. He locked any remaining things he might not want Ilsa to access into the gun safe.

Rick walked back into the master bedroom. He pulled out his dick and pissed all over the bed, pillows, cover, sheets -- all of it. He smiled as he left the room.

As Rick carried the small bag down, Ilsa and the family were sitting in the living room. He had to pass by.

Ilsa said, "What are you doing? This doesn't have to screw up our marriage. There's no need to stop living your life. Just tamp down your male ego and we can go on like we have been."

He addressed all of them. "Is there anyone here who believes that Ilsa is wrong to be fucking some boy?"

No one responded.

"Is there anyone here who believes she was wrong to bring you all here and put my troubles out there for everyone to see?"

He stared at each one of them. He turned and walked out of the house. Rick got into his truck and left.

He drove to a motel about forty miles north and checked in. He slept soundly.

Rick stopped at a convenience store, bought a Pepsi, and called his college friend Rob Driscoll. Rob lived about four hours away, where he had a construction business that was doing quite well. The two of them had been close at school, and had kept tabs on each other as the years passed. Rob answered his cell.

"Hey, Rob, it's Rick."

"Rick, how're you doing? Haven't heard from you in a while."

"I'm not doing well at all, Rob. If it isn't inconvenient I'd like to pay you a visit."

"Sure. I'm out at the Lake house. I'll be here for a week or more. Do you know the way?"

"Yep, sure do. Can you put me up there for a few days?"

"Can do. Marty's here, and Steve. But the girls aren't." Steve was Rob's, well, factotum. A guy who smoothed out Rob's life. The girls were his three daughters.

"Okay. I'll explain when I get there. Maybe about noon."

"Great. I look forward to finding out what this is all about. I certainly owe you one from Sinclair." Sinclair was a company that had made an attack on Rob's construction firm, in court, over a joint project. Rick had solved that problem for Rob. Maybe his methods had not been strictly kosher.

Both Rick and Rob were wealthy men. Rick was worth into eight figures. Rob was a lot richer than that. Rob's Lake house was forty acres with a 'lake,' more a big pond. It was an hour outside the city, in the mountains. Rick didn't have anything like that. He had still been living in the house he had bought before he married Ilsa. They raised their kids there and he was fond of it. He didn't feel he needed a country place. Maybe that would change.

Before he crossed into Rob's state, Rick stopped at a shopping center. He bought a cheap cell phone. He had turned his phone off after calling Rob. Now he took out the battery. As he sat there, he fired up his computer using the internet from a nearby coffee shop. He opened a new email account, under an alias. He saw that there were many emails on his old account. He ignored them, just as he had ignored the texts and calls on the old phone. Later he might run through all this. But not now.

Rick arrived at Rob's place just after 1:00. Rob and his wife Marty met him. Steve brought Rick a beer, took his bags upstairs. Then Marty walked into the lawn garden. Rob and Rick sat on a dock overlooking the lake.

"Well, what's up, my friend?"

Rick explained - fully explained - what had happened. Rob was really pissed off.

"How could she do that?"

"Rob, I mean you and Marty have your arrangement. So maybe you can see it from her side." Rob and Marty had 'opened up' their marriage some time before. Rob had an apartment in town where he kept a young woman. Rick didn't know what Marty had been doing.

"No, buddy, it's not the same. She snuck around. And, what's worse, she put all your business in the street, so to say."

"That family intervention was what sent me in this direction, for sure. Before that, there might have been a chance."

"Maybe I have some ideas. Let me make a few calls. Meanwhile....Oh, wait. Do you want me to do something about this guy? Brady?"

"No. Not right off, at least. I need to think."

"Okay, have another beer, take a walk, enjoy. Dinner at 7:00?"

"Sure."

Rob went inside. Rick walked into the garden.

Marty was still there, weeding in a vegetable patch. Rick began to help her out.

Marty said, "I hope Rob and I can give you a hand with whatever brought you here." It was really a question. Marty was younger that Rob and Rick, about ten years. She was a very pretty woman, even in her fifties. Rick had always liked her, but didn't know her well.

Still, he decided to keep no secrets, at least here. He told her his story. He could see that her reaction wasn't as harsh as Rob's.

"Maybe I can understand Ilsa's....needs. But she seems to have made a big mistake with the family council thing."

"Yes."

"And...do you believe that you can get over that mistake? I wonder why she did it?"

"That's a good question. I expect she did it to try to get me to go along with her having a boy toy. Bring full court pressure to bear. You know, thinking about it like that, I doubt that I can ever get by that. My granddaughters, for God's sake."

"Maybe she did it because she also wanted you to still be her husband."

"Well, if she did want that, I think it was more a matter of comfort, not love. When I walked in on them, she didn't bat an eye. Nor did she apologize, or say she would stop. In fact, I don't think stopping was ever on the table."

"In that case, what choice do you have?"

"None. That's why I packed up."

"About dinner time, I'd say. Let's go."

They walked into the house. Steve had grilled steaks, and there was a salad and bread. Just hit the spot. At dinner they didn't talk about his problem, just caught up on each other's business stuff. Marty had a small dress making operation in town.

After dinner Rob and Rick went back outside. Rob told him what he had done about things. He had made an appointment for Rick with a really good cardiologist, for a full work up. That would be tomorrow, noon. He had an exercise therapist coming out day after tomorrow, in the morning, to begin working with Rick. He asked about whether he had a lawyer. Rick told him that he would call his guy tomorrow.

Rick asked him about the exercise therapist.

"She's great. She does all sorts of things, depending on who it is she's seeing. Believe me, you'll like her. She cured me of the blahs about three years ago."

"Okay, got nothing to lose, I guess."

"I have some stuff to do tomorrow in town. I'll drive you in, drop you off for the work up, and when you're done, we can go to the ball game, come back here after. Sound good?"

"Yes it does."

Rick made certain arrangements with his lawyer that morning. By phone and computer. He had a limited power of attorney, to accomplish things Rick wanted to be done without family contact. Rick also had him retain an investigator to see about Brady.

The medical work up was with a young woman about 35 years old, at a private clinic. They didn't ask for his insurance. Rick had various tests. On the incline treadmill he ran out of gas and had to sit down, breathless. She gave him a purple pill, which settled his heart down.

Dr. Brandon -- that was her name, Sylvia Brandon -- told Rick that he had arrythmias, and these were the cause of his heart difficulties. She had all his medical records, and saw that he was on meds for that for a while, and also blood thinners. She explained to him that there was a procedure that could possibly cure these problems, with minimal interference with daily life. She explained all about it, and set up an appointment with a surgeon. Rick was a little skeptical, but she reassured him.

Rob and Rick went to the ball game, ate hot dogs, drank beer, and cheered the home team. They drove back to the mountains, went to bed. Rick slept very soundly.

The next morning he was up early to meet with the exercise therapist, Jane Goodman. She was a tall, slim woman in her forties, very good looking in a soft way. She had a nice smile, and assured Rick that she could get him into pretty good shape, gradually. That first day they just walked, and she asked questions. He noticed that the walk got a little faster as they went. When it was over, he was winded, but not really breathless. She said she'd be back each morning for a while.

Rob had the surgeon come out to the lake for dinner. This guy had pull. The surgeon explained what he would do, and that there would be two separate procedures a month apart. Rick would not be incapacitated by these, because they would use a catheter. So, he signed up. Three days before the first, at Mercy Hospital.

Jane returned the next day with some exercises. Some resembled Tai Chi. But some involved some of the machines in Rob's small gym. He especially worked his legs, with weight. After 90 minutes, she seemed satisfied. When she came the first day, she wore street clothes. But this morning she was in tight spandex shorts and an armless top, something like a sports bra. The outfit was violet. She looked fantastic, and Rick told her so.

"Thanks," she said. "I like vibrant colors." She smiled at him and winked.

Over the next two days, before the first procedure, Rick became quite taken with Jane, and let her know that. He wasn't crude, but straightforward. She didn't seem fazed. If anything, she was pleased.

The first procedure was outpatient. He went in at 6:30 am and was back at the lake at 4:00 pm. He did have a bandage in a sensitive spot.

Jane was there the next morning, as scheduled. She said that if he had any problems, let her know. But there were none. They did cut it a little short in the gym, and instead took a hard walk. Her outfit that day was bright pink and flashy blue. She was stunning, and he told her so again. Rick was aware that she liked the compliments.

Rob and Marty, and Steve, kidded him about falling in love with Jane. They weren't far off. One weekend about two weeks after the first procedure, their twin daughters came out from town. They were fraternal twins, very pretty. They were also lively. When Jane and Rick were finished with the morning workout, they wanted to play volley ball. Rob and Marty and their daughter Lynn against Rick and Jane and Christine. Steve brought water.

When Rob and Rick were younger, they had a rivalry about various sports things, basketball, frisbee, sprints. And surprisingly, they began to be pretty intense about the volleyball. Jane was also intense, and the girls as well. They seemed to bring Marty along. The game became cutthroat, although still friendly. It went on for a while. Finally, Jane spiked a ball and won the game. As we finished and Steve passed out water, Rick realized that he was not tired.

Jane said, "Rick, I think you've made a lot of progress. You're not out of breath. Something's working."

"Yeah, it just sort of crept up on me. I'm a lot fitter. You are a miracle."

"Well, maybe the doctors had something to do with it."

"Maybe."

Jane left and the girls stayed for dinner. They were curious about Rick staying out at the lake for so long. Rick told them that it was a therapy break.

Lynn grinned and said, "Maybe a Jane break?"

He flushed a little. "I do like her outfits, can't deny it."

"You know, Rick, she's available. She's divorced. Maybe you should make her an offer."

"Way out of my league, Lynn."

"You don't know until you try," said Marty.

The next morning, he awoke from a dream about Jane, and had a definite erection. It didn't subside until he got to the shower. He was really happy about that, to say the least.

A few days later, he was doing some work on the incline board. Jane was standing over him counting, wearing a pretty skimpy jog bra and similarly skimpy shorts. Rick looked up at her and got hard. He was wearing loose shorts and it was obvious. (And, he thought, about time.)

Jane eyed him. "I see we're making good progress." She smiled as she said it. She looked from his eyes to his crotch and back.

"Yep, real progress. All down to you."

"Hmmm. I'm flattered. Now let's do some reps with the 12 pounders."

A week later Rick was back for the second procedure. This one required an overnight stay. He went in at 6:30 am again. By dinner time he was hungry. He got out at 8:00 the next morning. Marty drove him out to the lake. Rob was away on business.

Jane was there at the lake to meet them. As always, Rick was happy to see her. She stayed for dinner, then drove out. Over the course of the therapy, he had of course told her the story of why he was there. After a while, she reciprocated. She had been married for ten years, to a guy she met in college. But he had cheated. She forgave him. He cheated again. She didn't forgive him then. She had been divorced for four years. She was dating some. Nothing serious, she said. He was happy that she wanted to say that to him. It seemed like an open invitation.

"Do you date...you know...clients like me?"

"Not normally." She smiled. "Are you asking me out? You, a married man."

"Yes, I am. I've wanted to ask for a while, but now that the operations are over, I feel like I should take the chance. What do you say?"