January 23, 2017
Author's Notes (Don't skip these, they are important, so don't blame the author if you don't like the story :->)):
All characters are over eighteen, fictional and the product of this writer's imagination. Any similarities to real people, or other fictional characters is purely coincidence.
I'm a huge fan of the Loving Wives genre -- in particular unfaithful spouses. Aren't they really just mysteries; or are they really romances gone wrong? Without a doubt, I've most certainly read any story even closely hinting at unfaithfulness within the genre. What I find interesting is the bifurcated camps that readers seem to gravitate towards -- Burn the Bitch/Bastard for revenge fans or Reconciliation at all Costs for softies at heart. It's fascinating to me actually that such polarization occurs. There doesn't seem to be much middle ground, based on the comments I've observed. Not a bad thing, simply an observation. I doubt real life enters into the equation when determining which camp a reader might align, unless of course, they have personally experienced the betrayal of a spouse. For those betrayed readers, my empathy and hope for a reboot into Life 2.0.
However, like anyone else, I love to read fiction, so anyone's reality is always possible. In this story, I wanted to offer a slightly different perspective to the Loving Wives category. While it won't be considered radically different to most, I would like readers to think of the story as the same color as Loving Wives, painted with different shades or contrasting hues. It is neither, BTB or RAAC of that I'm sure, but there are elements of bitterness, animosity and emotions aplenty to go around -- just like real life. But there is the main element of a literal truly loving wife, albeit with her flaws and all, and a very loving husband with his imperfections. Fair warning, since my personal bent is directed firmly towards romance, well you get the idea...maybe that's why it's posted in romance.
I'm a particularly long winded author having been told so. No sense denying it. I'm going to write the entire story and submit it all at once, so I'll apologize in advance if the length is off-putting to some readers. And while sex is discussed, it is not descriptive, or plentiful. Just like real life.
Enjoy the story, comment, vote if you like, rant, and rave if that feels appropriate. But above all else enjoy the fact that you can.
Spyauth
Copyright ©2017 -- All rights reserved.
Introduction
It is a great pleasure to be given the privilege of writing the story of Laura and Bill as told through both their perspectives. Their story, or rather the conclusion of their story, is certainly not unique -- they did live happily ever after. Perhaps their end might not be any more or less than anyone would write for themselves, if given a chance to write their own future. The journey to that end, is what appears to this writer as exceptional. Let's examine the exceptional lives of Laura and Bill.
The Early Years (circa mid-1980's)
Laura
My senior year in College was fraught with challenges which I'll elaborate on later. I managed to maintain my overall GPA of 3.5 upon graduation, but just barely.
I was accepted to Princeton, yet declined, opting to attend UCLA instead. I had grown up all my life attending private schools in New York. Thinking Princeton would be another extension of private school prison, I convinced my parents that if after a year at UCLA, I couldn't show my maturity or grades, I would return to the east and attend a more traditional College one more befitting my parent's heritage. My first year, showed a very respectable 3.85 GPA.
Feeling triumph when I faced my parents during summer break at having mastered the basic curriculum, I pushed my case with them to continue attending the West Coast school. They reluctantly agreed, as I had fulfilled the minimal parameters of our agreement. They acquiesced but weren't happy. I was overjoyed. I was learning while flexing my wings of independence.
My mother, ever the practical, devious one, tried luring me with shopping trips to New York City, along with other social engagements de rigueur in her circle. I politely declined, showing my naiveté in the process. What better place to enjoy the finer things of life, then within a protected cocoon of money? Youth is truly wasted on the young.
Returning my sophomore year, I realized I had missed out on some of the freshman antics, as my father referred to them. I never felt the need to act out, per se, during my freshman year, as I'm sure my mother and father believed was the case. I vowed to rectify the situation this year. I hadn't planned to go completely crazy as my roommate Sheila liked to do without fail every weekend, and often three nights during the week, but closing in on twenty, it was time to have some fun.
Sheila was always popular with the boys, no doubt for putting out more than I felt comfortable doing. Not that I was a prude, as I wasn't a virgin by that time. I just never felt comfortable jumping from bed to bed to either be popular by College standards, or the life of the party by social norms. I was more selective in my partners, as well as more reserved overall.
I had had a steady boyfriend during my senior year in High school, to whom I lost my virginity on prom night. I suspect my mother knew, or at least had a strong premonition. My father was, as usual, clueless about such things.
After starting classes my sophomore year, I decided to change my bookish look to something more stylish in tune with the eighties. At the time, I looked like a younger version of Linda Gray on the TV show Dallas, so I thought styling my hair like her, might be the way to stand out and fit in at the same time. All the rage at the time was 'big hair', the kind that took hours to achieve. I didn't want to encumber my daily routine with that much effort, instead opting for more of a straight look with dirty blonde bangs and shoulder length hair. I brushed it to one side or the other, depending upon my mood. It worked for me at the time, pairing my new hairstyle with my light brown eyes, made me feel alluring.
The male species, definitely took notice. It seemed I was fighting off suitors left and right, in and out of the classroom. In fact a few of my more progressive professors felt I needed extracurricular help which they gladly offered in their offices after class. I turned all of them down gracefully. I was after all, raised as a lady, and as such appreciated their attention, but felt compelled to pick and choose my companions as I saw fit.
About half way through the semester of my sophomore year, I met a gentleman, named Warren Blaylock. He seemed nice enough if not a little stand-offish at the time. He didn't seem quite as smitten with me or my looks as the rest of the crowd -- professors included. There was something a little mysterious about Warren that intrigued me if I were honest with myself. I couldn't quite place my finger on it.
Warren was in my Psychology 201 class which met Tuesdays and Thursdays. I had aced Psychology 101. I enrolled in this class thinking it would be any easy 'A' to help me maintain my GPA.
My parents had expected I would declare a pre-med major mid-way through the year. I was on the fence between medicine and law. Thinking I could go either way, the Psychology course seemed a good fit.
Warren was intelligent in his questions during class and even after, when I 'accidently' bumped into him dropping my books for him to collect. Of course he apologized for being clumsy, which I demurely dismissed. In his own way of apology, he invited me to coffee at the student union.
