*Disclaimer: Any persons engaging in any sexual activity are eighteen years of age or older.
Chapter 1
Cris Dumas was completely unprepared for Ann Marie's haughty announcement that 'while she still loved him, she just wasn't IN love with him.'
"I think we need some time apart," she declared. "You know? Just a little space. Why don't you move into the guest room and..."
Eighteen, nearly nineteen years of marriage, wiped out with that simple statement.
Numbly, he agreed to try the new living arrangement. After all, she assured him, it was only for a short while, then they'd talk and see where they wanted to go from there.
"And he eats pussy like you wouldn't believe...." He overheard her giggling into her cell phone.
So, not only was she 'not in love with him,' but she already had another lover.
Angrily he packed everything and, instead of moving into the guest bedroom, stormed out of the four bedrooms, three bathroom house and slammed the door.
"I swear to God, if I've told him once, 'don't slam the damned door,' but you know how men are, they never listen," Ann Marie laughed to her college friend, Vickie Mouton. "Wonder where he's going?"
****
EconoLodge on Pinhook rented rooms by the night, or by the week. Cris booked the room for one week, took the key and let himself into the dingy, smelly room. Obviously the last occupant had been a heavy smoker; the smell of cigarettes was thick, hanging in the air.
"Jim, hey, this is Cris," he said wearily. "Cris Dumas from the DeGarde office?"
"I know who it is, you dumb coon ass," Jim Miller, the head of PPEDI's legal department laughed. "What you got?"
Why had he left? He was the sole breadwinner for the years they'd been married. It was his house; she'd never made one payment on the mortgage.
And he hated the monstrosity of a house. Four bedrooms; there were only three people living there. For the seven years they'd lived there, one bedroom had been empty. Ann Marie used the closet in that room, as well as the closet in the guest bedroom. They had a guest bedroom, but Cris couldn't say when they'd ever had an overnight guest. But Ann Marie had wanted the house so they bought the house.
The yard took hours of work and Cris was often exhausted afterward, but refused to hire a yard man. It wouldn't have taken so long if there had been just a yard, maybe a couple of trees, but there were several little 'areas' in the yard, a clump of shrubs here, a patch of flowers there, an ornamental statue in the corner. All of this made it impossible to use a riding lawnmower, so Cris had to grunt and groan and sweat and push a regular lawn mower. Ann Marie and Nicole could be counted on to not help at all; the only time either one of them wanted to sweat was when it involved an activity THEY were interested in, mainly at the country club.
"Actually, Cris, this is beautiful," Jim laughed lightly. "You pay all the bills? Charge her rent until the divorce; you ARE going to file for a divorce, right?"
Cris felt a large weight settle in the pit of his flabby stomach. He had not even thought of divorce.
Looking in the dingy, smeared mirror of the motel's poorly lighted bathroom, he didn't like what he saw.
He used to be a muscular young man with a healthy tan and wide smiles. He used to have a full head of brown hair and lively brown eyes. When had he become a flabby, balding, ashen-faced old man? He was only forty years old; Ann Marie had thrown him a huge birthday party filled with all of their friends. All of HER friends; he didn't think a single one of those people in their back yard gave a hoot about him. Except for Sweet William and Sandra; and he had to remind Ann Marie to invite them.
He wondered if she had already been cheating on him with Mr. Pussy Eater at that time, if Mr. Pussy Eater had been at their party.
He wondered if their daughter missed him, if Nicole was asking her mother where Daddy was.
Probably not, he sighed. Somewhere around the same time that he'd slipped into being the unattractive blob he saw in the mirror, she slipped from adoring her Daddy to tolerating him. As long as he paid the car note and insurance and the West Bayou Country Club dues and tennis lessons, Nicole tolerated him.
He wondered if Hank and Sophia Campion, his in-laws were celebrating. It had taken nineteen years, nineteen years of barely concealed disdain to drag their precious little girl out of his loving embrace. They had money; he had to work for every dime he had. And Ann Marie spent every dime too.
The mattress reeked of cigarette smoke, as did the pillows. He sighed heavily; he'd forgotten to take his toupee off.
He got out of bed, found the stand for it and carefully worked it loose, then put in on the stand and then got back into bed.
Sleep did not come. He lay in bed imagining his beautiful wife naked, an unknown man's head between her legs. He imagined his beautiful wife taking another man's erection into her mouth, something she had been quite good at before Mikey's death.
When Mikey didn't wake up that morning that was the beginning of the end for him. Ann Marie had been absolutely devastated when the infant did not respond to her screams. Four year old Nicole stood in the doorway and sobbed over the loss of her baby brother.
After that, they rarely made love any more and Ann Marie insisted on condoms, unwilling to risk pregnancy again, unwilling to risk losing another baby to SIDS.
"That's when it happened," he said aloud. "That's when I got lost."
He looked at the bedside clock. Ten forty one.
"But it changes now," he decided. "Ten forty one, I'm going to change my life."
Chapter 2
She rolled over languidly. Last night had been the first time in several years she had slept alone and it felt great. She had never noticed before how badly Cris snored, how much he tossed and turned before the intolerable snoring began, and how much he passed gas while in their bed.
"Where's Daddy?" Nicole petulantly asked at the breakfast table.
"Work, why?" Ann Marie asked.
"'Cause!" Nicole stomped her foot. "I need to pay Cindy!"
Cindy was Nicole's tennis coach.
"Well, call him at the office; I'm sure he just forgot," Ann Marie said lightly. "Oops, Momma's got an appointment, running late."
****
Waking up wasn't that hard for him; he'd not fallen asleep.
Showering in the motel bathroom was a dismal effort; the water was lukewarm and barely dribbled out of the rusted faucet. The cheap shampoo and conditioner provided by the motel, along with the harsh soap left him feeling like he needed another shower.
The cheap iron provided by the motel looked dubious at best; he decided on a shirt that did not look too badly wrinkled and dressed for the day ahead.
Jim had told him what to do and that was going to get his full attention today.
****
Tom Sampo. Just the name sounded good, masculine. Ann Marie smiled as Tom Teed off and drove the ball two hundred and seventy yards down the fairway.
That's how they met; Daddy and Momma and she had wanted to play eighteen holes but it just wasn't much fun as a threesome. Mr. Trapani, Daddy's friend and financial backer had called them at the last minute, saying he couldn't make it.
"Be happy to join y'all," he smiled and stuck out his hand to Hank. "Tom. Tom Sampo."
The men shared a cart but Tom still found ways to touch Ann Marie when they were standing around. At first she thought it might have just been accidental, but he smiled his wicked little smile at her, causing her to blush.
At the nineteenth hole he touched her often, 'innocent' little touches, nothing inappropriate.
"So, Tom, you're in investments?" Hank asked as the liquor flowed.
"Yep, it's the fool that works for his money rather than making his money work for him," Tom smiled and launched into a detailed explanation of what venture investments he was orchestrating.
"Hope I see a lot more of you," he whispered in her ear as they prepared to leave.
****
The next time she saw him at the country club he wasted no time and soon she was in his Mercedes, driving to his house in Church Point. She was suitably impressed with his two hundred year old home and even more impressed with the Louis the Fourteenth bedroom suite on the second floor.
"No, no, this is all for you," he whispered in her ear as she cupped his heavy balls in her small hand.
