This story, like 'Early Rideout' is birthed in 'It's A Place Of Beauty' and picks up with Darrell's 1st wife several years later. There is not a lot of sex in the tale, much like the protagonist's own life over the past several years leading up to this. If there was to be a burning of the bitch it would have occurred many years before these events and circumstances. Instead I prefer to deal with maturity, even that gained at a heavy price as with Theresa Carson.
A woman's solace begins with her own penance
I hit the electronic lock for the front door on my phone and turned toward the parking lot after a long, busy week showing one property after another to a steady stream of both lookers and buyers. The buyers knew what it took to get in. The lookers just wanted a peek at something they understood was probably beyond their reach unless they were willing to extend themselves onto the fringes of financial solvency.
I've been through the highs and the lows of this market and right now, we are on the cusp of a high. Buyers have money and sellers are moving which makes for a healthy uptick for me. The last couple I showed this afternoon was the moneyed variety; he was a retired broker from New York moving down here to Charleston to enjoy the charm of the Holy City. She was eye candy; half his age and with twice the stamina. I suppose that's why they make the little blue pills; the recreational drug of choice for mature and middle aged males.
Regardless if he buys it or not, she will have her hands full. He is the touchy feely kind of guy. You know the kind; the one that have their hands drifting down where they don't belong when they think no one is watching. That was him; in the bedroom while she was in the kitchen. He learned I'm not that kind of woman. Besides, I'm almost as old as he is. Why bother?
The name plate on the business says my name is Theresa Carson. My driver's license tells me I'm 58 years old, 5'2" and weigh 122 lbs. with a picture that reveals well colored blond hair and blue eyes. The letter in my hand has my daughter Kelsey's name on it and it's about to be mailed to her home in Portland, Maine. Inside it is a birthday card and gift card for her and a matching one for my granddaughter whose birthday will be exactly one week later. That makes it all neat and tidy. My husband's name is Darrell. Unfortunately for me, I'm just no longer married to him...
I heard his light footsteps well before he thought he snuck up behind me.
"So, beautiful, what do you say about joining me over at the Governors Stand for a drink and wind down with a couple of us boys after this long damn week?"
He was charming, salt and pepper hair and steel grey eyes if they could be called that. He had been hitting on me for the past couple of months and I always give him the same response.
"I need to get home and take care of my cat, Charlie. Besides, isn't your wife expecting diamonds and roses tonight?"
The married tomcat didn't miss a step.
"She's working the night shift at Roper, won't be home until after 6 tomorrow morning."
His wife is a charge nurse at one of the hospitals. It's my guess she has no idea what time Charlie warms his bed or who with while she's out busting her ass. But, I'm a diplomat and just smile and wave as I hop into my Honda and head down towards the Old Village. I've dealt with the Charlies and others for years now. They are all the same; scratch an itch with a piece of ass and hope they don't get caught. I should know, I used to play with the type years ago and it cost me my marriage and everything I held dear including my career and every bit of my self- respect. So, no, Charlie stood no chance of peeling this old lady's panties off tonight or any other night.
I pulled into my driveway and parked under the giant live oak that shaded my little 19th century craftsman home here in Mt. Pleasant, SC. I really did need to feed my cat, a large female Maine Coon Cat that Kelsey got for me about ten years ago when I was fighting breast cancer. Her name is Kitty and she is HUGE and hungry.
I made my way around the backside of the house with two sacks of groceries in my arm and a set of keys in my hand and as I was just getting ready to push the key in the lock, I saw him. I almost dropped my groceries in surprise. He was sitting in the rocker next to my garden pond.
"Darrell?" I asked with a blend of shock and curiosity.
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My God, it had been thirteen years since I last saw him. Of course we had talked on the phone occasionally and we kept in touch with cards during the seasons but I had not laid eyes on him since I gave him the final divorce decree papers in my old apartment. That was a bad day for me but one that I needed to go through to bring me back to any sense of reality. I had thrown my husband away and another woman, a really good one, had rescued him from my thoughtless disregard.
He had come down to Charleston with Sally, his soon to be new wife, to enjoy a bit of sun and surf after a long winter in the woods of Maine and to see our daughter, Kelsey. I never did see them together but Kelsey informed me that the two of them were expecting a baby in a few months and were getting married.
I guess that's the kind of news that puts the glue to the closed books of failed relationships. It certainly wasn't a surprise. I had met Sally earlier when I had to humble myself and take Kelsey to her Dad. That's a long story of its own. Fortunately, the two of them were able to reconnect and heal together. Being the one who inflected the wounds on both of them, all I could do was retreat back into my own dark cloud.
Being the cheating spouse is a hard thing to live with once remorse and guilt open one's eyes to the destruction wrought at your own hand. Admitting why you did it can be worse. For me, I was a prostitute. I whored my body for personal favor and advancement. I didn't start sober and calculating. If it were that, there could be little in the way of forgiveness. Instead I victimized myself with alcohol and allowed a Sr. VP of Marketing in an up and coming company use his thumbs to pull the lavender panties off my married pussy and sink his prick deep inside, naked and unprotected. He took it, used it and returned it sated from his desires. He did it several more times before he promoted me and another VP in the company took his place.
That cycle went on for over three years before I finally went over the deep end and filed for divorce from the only man of the bunch who actually loved me. I didn't just file. I debased myself with overkill and scorched the earth. How Darrell can ever stand to talk to me after all of that is a miracle but he does even after all these years.