Her Best Smile

Her Best smile

Jim Gets Her Best Smile

I put two stories to stories together. LT56linebacker's, May Sucks - Happy Mother's Day, Bastard.

https://literotica.com/s/may-sucks-happy-mothers-day-bastard

. A fun story.

And the great story, George Anderson's "February Sucks." I wouldn't say I liked the ending, but it made me think. And aren't that what stories are for?

I have written permission from LT56linbacker to use his lovely bride's story. But Mr. Anderson never replies to emails.

Also, I used part of her story verbatim and italicized her work. I did change it up to meet this story's needs.

This story is not about the February stories; it's about Jim and Lydia. I wanted them to find each other and live happily ever after.

NO Sex in this story. The old saying, "Those you cant do, write about it."

This story is over the top, but I hope you enjoy it. Remember, if you vote, I get at least a one-star.

Characters

May Sucks

Wife Lydia Lawson - Heroine (44). Husband Frank Lawson - Cheating Bastard

Francis Michael - Oldest son (23) Steven Jacob (15) - Youngest Son. Lydia Marie Daughter (7)

Joseph - Lydia's Father Attorney Francine - Lydia's Mother

Oldest Brother-Joe Jr. of Lydia William - Youngest Brother of Lydia

Pete- Lydia's first boyfriend after the divorce.

February Sucks

Jim Carlisle - Betrayed Husband Linda - Slut Wife

Emma - Daughter (13) Tommy-son (10)

GW- Long-time friend of Jim's Uncle and family attorney.

Marc LaValliere - Womanizer and Douchebag that took Linda from Jim.

Dee and Jane-Friends of Linda's Dave and Paul, Husbands of Dee and Jane

My responses to my misspelled words and poorly structured sentences have been overwhelming. So I have placed them in this story again for your enjoyment. I know where they are. There is no prize for pointing them out.

Five years later.

Lydia strolled into the Taproom Bar & Lounge, looking for one of her best friends from high school; She glanced around and saw Emily standing behind the bar, loading beer into the cooler.

Moving to the bar, she threw her purse atop and plopped down on the leather stool.

Emily, "I'm here at your highnesses request."

Emily popped up from the cooler and smiled, "Hey, girl. You made it. How are you doing?"

Lydia replied, "I'm surviving. It's tough on me being in a one-parent household."

Emily moved over to the sink and started washing out dirty glasses. "Well, don't your parents help?

"Yeah, when I ask. I don't want their help unless I need it. The asshole I married was my mistake, and I must live my stupid decision, and I should pay for it, not them."

"By the way, I heard. Man, I'm

sorry," said Emily. "I heard you and Pete broke up. It was a pity. He's a great guy. And not to mention, gooooood looking."

"I don't blame him." Lydia sighed from heartache and continued, "My boys went nuts and blamed the divorce on me. Michael says that now that he's a little older, he would have handled it differently.

"Steven wouldn't accept him as a potential male in the house, even as a friend." The boy worshiped his dad.

"Jesus, he just wouldn't let up on him and me. Pete couldn't take the disrespect and lost his temper a few times. He finally threw in the towel and left."

"How's Marie doing? Asked Emily. "She must be getting big."

Chucking, Lydia replied, "I've been feeding her caffeine and sugar. She's growing like a weed. Do you want to see a picture of her?"

Without waiting for a reply, Lydia dug out her wallet and pulled out Maria's picture. Here's her latest school picture," pushing it over toward Emily. Emily grabbed a towel, dried her hands, and picked up the image to study it.

"Damn, she's gorgeous. I'm sure glad she's not mine. When that little cutie starts noticing boys, you're going to be in trouble. She'll be a real heartbreaker."

"Yea, that worries me. Marie needs a strong male role model to help her through those years. My father gave me an excellent male role model to look up to. Up until this shit happened, I was doing great.

"Girls that don't have a good relationship with their fathers usually have problems during those years.

"That's true," replied Emily. "But your dad and your brothers will supply that."

"Yeah, but she still needs a good father relationship. It's good to see that in the home," said Lydia.

"Something else, Emily, I feel so guilty at times. When I look at her just right, she looks like her father. And I have to hold back my rage for him and not project it onto her," Lydia explained as her eyes swelled. "My biggest fear is I'll take it out on her someday."

Emily smiled warmly, "Honey, you'll never do that. Remember, you had a good strong father figure yourself. And not to mention a mother, she's a pretty good lady too."

"Speaking of Frank have you seen?" asked Emily.

Lydia stared into space and then returned to reality, "No, the rat bastard ran off with his blonde Bimbo. He hasn't seen the kids in a year. My dad had PIs looking for him when he skipped town. So, we haven't seen a child support check-in, like forever."

Emily seethed, "God! That pisses me off when the spouse doesn't take responsibility for their kids."

"Now that's what's so damn important that I had to get dressed and rush over here? I had to shower quickly and get dressed," asked Lydia. "And besides, I have to go to work tomorrow afternoon."

"I told you I'm calling in that favor from high school. We're even now, smirked Emily. You do remember that night at the park on prom night."

Lydia blushed. "I thought so," chuckled Emily.

Lydia looked around, "Hey, where is everyone? She asked. "It's dead in here."

"Tuesday night before payday. It happens from time to time. But the reason you're here is because of that guy over there. They both turned to see a scruffy man sitting at the end of the table."

"That's a friend of mine, Jim Carlisle. You're here for him."

Lydia gazed through the dimly lit room at the man nursing his drink.

"Is he sick?" asked Lydia. "I don't make house calls. If he's sick, he needs to go to the hospital."

"No, not physically, but mentally, and you're the cure for him. But, listen, he is as good a friend as you are, so I am asking you to help him."

"Listen, I'm not a psychiatrist. I don't think I can help," responded Lydia. "He looks like he needs a professional at this point."

"Oh, but you can. I truly believe you two are soulmates," chuckled Emily.

"How in the hell do you figure," replied Lydia. "Look at him. He's what, 60?"

"No, Honey, I think he's a few years younger than you. Look at him again. You don't recognize him?"

She shook her head and said, "Sorry, I don't."

Emily asked," Do you remember the Marc LaValliere case a few years ago?" Emily took her finger and slowly pointed it in and out toward the man sitting at the end of the bar drowning his sorrows, "That's the husband."

"I didn't say anything earlier because you were dating Peter. Now that's over. I'm calling in that favor you owed me from high school."

Lydia gave a wicked smile, "I want to meet him. Please. I'd love to."

Emily smiled, "I thought you would. Come on over. I'll introduce you two."

"Hey Jim, I want you to be a friend of mine. Lydia Lawson. I think you two need to meet. You both have a lot in common."

Jim looked up and replied in a low growl, "No thanks. We don't have anything in common. She has no fucking idea what I went through. She'll never know the pain and humiliation I suffered from the narcissist bitch I was married to. So, get the fuck away from me."

"Listen, Jim, if you don't talk to her, the bar is closed to you. You've been nursing that screwdriver for an hour. Suppose if I had any sense, I'd cut you off now. Legally I have the right to do it.

"I believe you'll find you two have a lot in common. So now, take your sorry but cute ass over to one of those booths and grab a seat. And you'll talk to her. Of course, I'll furnish the drinks as long as you talk.

Jim thought, "Hot damn, free drinks. Shit yeah. I'll sit there and listen to the woman."

Emily studied him, "Oh, by the way, I'm not stupid. If you don't talk, you don't drink. None of that, just listening to crap. Capeesh?"

Jim shook his head, dropped his shoulders in defeat, got up, and walked toward the seating area. He sat down, waiting for his guest to arrive.

A minute later, he saw a purse fly across the bench seat before him. Then Lydia slid into the bench across from Jim with the biggest smile. She started to talk.

Jim stuck his hand to stop her and spoke, "Not until I get my screwdriver."

Emily showed up a few seconds later and placed the libation before Jim. She turned to Lydia. "Do you want anything, Honey?"

"Yeah, do you have Diet Coke? I've got work tomorrow afternoon, and I'm pulling a double. I'm taking an extra shift for a friend."

"Diet Coke it is," Emily replied. Two minutes later, she reappeared with the drink. She dropped it off and left.

Taking a large gulp from his glass, he looked at Lydia and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"I want everything," replied Lydia. I want to know what it felt like as you pummeled that motherfucking, son-of-a bitch, cocking sucking bastard, into the ground."

Jim thought, "I think I'm in love." Then, looking confused, he responded, "Why?"

"She gritted her teeth and seethed venom with her words. Because my husband did the same damn thing to me on Mother's Day. Later I found out he was fucking some little slut at his office. So yeah, I want to live vicariously through you. I want everything. So, you're going to tell me the whole story. And don't dare leave a damn detail out."

Jim raised his empty glass to catch Emily's eyes. A minute later, she placed a new one in front of him. Then she scooped up the empty and left.

Jim took another gulp and told his reoccurring living nightmare that he had lived with since that night in February many years ago.

He looked at Lydia. She sat on the edge of her seat, listening to every riveting detail of the horror that made up Jim's life hell in the final days of his marriage.

After 15 minutes, Lydia interrupted and said, "Your fucking kidding me. Do you mean to tell me she left? She didn't even give you a chance to fight her."

Jim shook his head no. "There wasn't anything to fight for. Now if she would and said Marc was making unwanted advances toward me. Or won't let her leave alone. I would've gotten my ass kicked to protect her and my kids."

"If you had fought for me, I would have dropped to my knees and sucked your dick right there on the dance floor," said Lydia.

Jim thought, "I wonder if she'd like to dance."

"Please forgive me." Lydia apologized. "I don't usually have such a potty mouth, but this makes me so angry. I want to spit nails."

Jim chuckled. "Sorry to laugh at you. This situation is so fucked up. If I didn't laugh, I'd cry. And I don't care if I have a potty mouth."

"Go on," she said, "Tell me the rest."

Thirty minutes later, Jim finished his tale of woe of that night. "Another," he yelled.

"Be right there," replied Emily. "Hey, Lydia, you want a fill-up? she asked.

"Yea, thanks," she replied.

"So tell me about beating the shit out of him. I want every little detail. I want to be able to feel the bastard's pain. And don't you dare...... leave anything out?" Lydia waited with bated breath.

Jim chuckled at her again. "I'd love to tell you I stood toe to toe and slugged it out with him, but it didn't happen that way.

"I wouldn't have stood a chance against him in a fair fight; he is just too big, but I would've given it the old college try. I would have done anything and everything to protect my family. Even die for them.

"I had just come back from my lawyer LW's office. I had sold half of the business to my business partner and best friend for as long as I remember. He was furious when he found out what Linda did to us. So, I set my plan into motion.

"I sold it to him for $1, plus other valuable considerations. I didn't want Linda to get a penny of it. He agreed with a handshake to sell it to me once my divorce was settled and everything returned to normal. And if he backstabs me too. Well, I'd rather him steal it from me than her.

"So, I had no assets and job at that point. Linda's lifestyle was about to take a dramatic change for the worse. I didn't worry about the kids. Both sets of grandparents would have taken them in. But without Linda.

"LW was completing the paperwork and would file it that day. So, I planned on serving her at work the next day. It wouldn't mean much, but a little embarrassment in front of her co-workers would do her good. So, I left his office and headed for home early that day.

"Well, guess what? There was a red Ferrari in my driveway when I arrived. Would you like to guess whose car it was?"

Lydia shook her head. "Nah! I've got a good idea who it was."

"I walked into the house to see the asshole and Linda sitting in the living room. She was on the couch, and he was sitting in the chair off to her right.

"As I walked toward them, I noticed Linda was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I didn't know what to expect from the two. But I knew something was up.

"Marc started the conversation; "Awe, listen, man. I know I'm an asshole, but I didn't want it to destroy your marriage. But, unfortunately, I'm a serial seducer, and she never had a chance. So, I'm going to try to make things right. I'll pay for a two-week cruise to let you reclaim your wife. How about it? It'll be my treat."

"Then Linda spoke up, pleading, "Please, Jim, give us a chance. I promise I'll never let it happen again. I'll never let another man touch me. I'll make you the perfect spouse. I'll give you sex anytime, and anyway you want it."

"Marc stuck out his, grabbed mine before I could react, and started shaking it. "It's a deal, right?" he asked.

"I looked at both of them and replied. "Marc, first, you assume I want to reclaim her. Second, her words don't mean shit with a white dried crust in the corners of her mouth. And that shade of lipstick on your face matches hers. As a matter of fact, it matches the stain on the front of your crotch.

"She gasped and turned pale. Marc started smirking and slowly squeezed my hand with every intention of breaking it. But, unfortunately, that turned out to be his fatal mistake. I had recently begun taking Rat Fighting from a good friend of mine.

Lydia interrupted and asked, "What's Rat Fighting? I've never heard of it."

Emily delivered another refresher. Jim was starting to slur his words.

Jim continued, "My friend used to be a Navy Seal. They're taught to put a person down quickly in the most imaginative ways possible. They don't want to stand there and spar with you when time is of the essence. They're on a tight timeline. They want you down.

"I'm just an average suburbanite male. We never fight. We use guns for protection. But street fighting, no way. The only time I fought as a kid, we used rules. You know, no biting, no, kicking, and the big one, no shots to nuts. In the real world, it's not like that. Back then, one of us was scared, and the other was glad of it.

"Because of what happened that night at the club, I decided if a bodyguard threatened me again, it would be the last time he does it. My friend taught me the basics of breaking holds along with neck shots. He taught me that move I used on Marc that day.

Jim was slowing down and slurring more.

"Excuse me, Lydia; I got to go to the little boy's room. I'll be right back." Lydia watched Jim stagger as he headed to the boy's room.

A few minutes later, Jim stopped by the bar the grabbed another refill.

Jim sat down. And he asked himself, "Where was I? Oh, yes. When Marc started squeezing my hand, I took my left hand, grabbed his wrist, and rotated to my right. As I did, I pulled his hand up to my stomach for leverage and spun as quickly as possible.

"That move caught him off guard. Then, as I pulled him, he lost his balance and fell toward the direction I was pulling him in.

"From that point, he either had to release my hand, or I'd break his wrist. So, when he released it, I reversed my direction and elbowed him in his eye socket as hard as possible.

"I heard later I broke his eye socket and ruptured his eye. He's legally blind in that eye now. I pinned him between the chair and the sofa as he went down. I got on top of him and tried to beat him to death. I released all the rage I had built over the previous six months on him.

"The next thing I remember, I woke up three months later from a coma.

Lydia said, "I bet that was a surprise."

"No, not really. The surprise was Linda could hit a two-iron. She had pulled it from the golf bag I had left sitting in the hallway. I should have listened to her and moved it earlier. But I was stubborn. I wasn't going to do shit for her."

Lydia laughed, "I love playing golf and can't hit a two-iron either."

"The next thing I knew, I was handcuffed to the hospital bed. Later that day, I had the DA and cop come in and read me my rights and the charges against me.

"Wow," said Lydia. "I'm surprised they didn't let you die. "

Jim had slowed down more. "Nooo! They couldn't afford that to happen. Can you imagine them explaining to the cops a dead husband and lover lying on the floor? And it was clear the wife had killed him.

"The DA would have spun it; I came home early and caught my wife with her lover. Marc being bigger, came at me, and we fought. Finally, Linda came up from behind and killed me.

"If they went to court with it, the DA would bring out what happened at the bar. And the jury would have fried them. So no, they had no choice. By saving me, they could say anything they wanted about that night. Marc had his lawyers get out in front of this. They were speaking to the press weeks before my side of the story was told.

"Again, the next day, a policeman and assistant DA showed up and read me my rights and the charges the asshole had filed against me. I guess DA felt he needed protection from a man that had been in a coma for months and cuffed to the damn bed.

"They charged men with Assault and Battery with the intent to do bodily harm. They said since Marc was pinned in and couldn't move. I should have gotten up and left. And called the cops.

Plus, another determining factor was I couldn't prove he tried to hurt me.

I guess I'm lucky; if I had killed him, I would have gotten 20 years for manslaughter.

"Two days later, I woke up to see Linda sitting beside me, staring at the bed. Then, with not so much as how you are doing, Jim, she handed me my divorce papers.

What she said next fucking blew my mind.

"It's your fault I sucked him off. I wouldn't have called him for help, but you hadn't touched me since that night. I was vulnerable and gave in to him. So, when he came, I realized what I had done and was about to start crying. Then he said for the blow job; he would help me out by paying for the two-week trip to make everything up to you.

"Jim, I'm filing for divorce. If you and your precious little ego could have just gotten over this bump in the road, we could still be together and happier than ever. I would have given you more pussy than you could've handled.

"But no, you couldn't, man up. I had a counselor picked out for you to help you deal with your useless ego. And we could have moved on. But no, you wouldn't fight for us. You're just a pathetic, self-absorbed, narcissistic, selfish, self-centered asshole. It has always been about you in this relationship.

"The thought of letting you father my children makes me sick. I hope you eat shit and die."