As I drove to the Leukemia Ball - by myself - that fateful Saturday night, I wondered how my life could be so rich in some ways, and in the crapper in others. For about the 10,000th time in the last two years I mused about how the old saying "Money can't buy happiness" was - at least in my case - not just a cliché but an axiom.
The rich parts of my life? Money, not just family money but from my position as COO of a Fortune 1000 company. Much more important than the money, two kids who I adored and were the lights of my life.
The major crapper - a wife who after the birth of our second child, our daughter Carolyn, almost five years ago had absolutely no interest whatsoever in sex. I think that we had sex ten times in the first three years after Carolyn was born. Two years ago Emily moved into a separate bedroom and we never had sex again; while she was usually pleasant we had more like a brother-sister relationship than husband-wife; actually, probably even more like two cousins than brother-sister.
I tried almost everything possible to get her to see a professional psychologist about what I considered her "problem," She didn't consider her having no interest whatsoever in sex a problem. "We had regular sex for twelve years, Braxton; that's enough."
Since she was really horny and loved to fuck when she was pregnant with our Carolyn, I tried to find a way to get her pregnant again - but that's not possible when she won't fuck at all, and in any event she finally informed me a year after our last baby was born that she had had her tubes tied after the birth, something that she never even discussed with me at the time!
I tried talking to Emily's younger sister Madeline and her mother Colette.
Madeline - who was going through a non-contentious divorce (if there is such a thing), without kids - said "That's your problem and I'd never get involved in an issue so highly personal." Actually her dismissive attitude pissed me off a little. I thought that we always had a good relationship - in fact I might have married her if I met her before I met Emily - and I had done a number of things to help her and her deadbeat husband out in the past. However, she was right that this was "highly personal" so I cut her some slack.
Colette was incensed that I'd even bring it up. "My God, Braxton, she gave you two kids - what more do you want?" Now I know why Emily's father always had a dour look on his face - he wasn't getting any either! Colette was as frigid as Emily.
I tried to get our minister involved since Emily claimed to be religious. Minister Jack had had two divorces, which I finally concluded disqualified him from giving worthwhile advice. He did talk to Emily - I have no idea what he actually said to her - but all that did was anger Emily for involving him in "my" (not "her") problem. His only advice to me - get a divorce. In other words effectively give up my biggest joy in life - daily interaction with my kids.
I considered the possibility that Emily was having an affair - in fact I was suspicious enough that I spent $25,000 on private detectives. They came up with zip. "She's the most boring subject we've ever had under surveillance," the head of the P.I. firm told me after monitoring her electronically and following her for three months. "While there are no such things as guarantees related to human behavior, this case is the closest we've ever come to giving a guarantee. I'd say that there is a 99.999% probability that she is not having an affair -not even an emotional one let alone a physical one."
Actually, on some level I might actually have preferred that she was having an affair rather than being "the most boring subject" ever. At least then I'd have an explanation.
I harkened back to my thinking when I married Emily almost seventeen years ago. She didn't have the physical beauty that would cause me to fall for her instantly, although she was nice looking and well put together; however she was intelligent and personable, and after I got to know her I found her incredibly sexy in a way that I couldn't quite figure out, and she seemed to be madly in love with me and was always affectionate. Plus, I was in for the long haul - I wanted kids and a stable home. My reasoning was that beauty fades over time, but love, affection, and personality don't.
That shows you how much I knew - she didn't look any different now than seventeen years ago but any manifestation of love, and all affection, had seemingly vanished faster than a crack whore's looks!
* * * * *
Emily would normally go with me to a charity event like the Leukemia Ball that Saturday night, but she was legitimately ill and begged off.
The festivities progressed just like had happened at the dozens of other "cause balls" that I had attended in the past - that is until all the speeches were over and the band started playing. I was getting ready to leave when a woman who though probably not drunk, but feeling no pain, bumped into me. The drink in her hand spilled on her. I am confident that her alcohol-induced clumsiness was what caused the spill - but being a gentleman I didn't push that point.
"I'm so sorry," I said, touching her arm. "I hope that I haven't ruined your lovely blouse - and can I get you another drink?" It was impossible not to notice that she had a beautiful face and on first glance seemed to be well put together.
She just chuckled as she moved her non-glass holding hand over the wet spot on her blouse - atop her left tit. I had no choice but to look at what she was doing. The wetness made her blouse see-through and she didn't have a bra on. "Holy shit, that's a nice tit," flashed through my brain, but I was in control enough not to say anything.
"It's just vodka, it'll come out," she chirped, with a smile. "However considering what the wetness has done to my blouse" - she apparently had been clued in by my staring that her left tit was on display - "if you're as gentlemanly as you seem to be, you'll dance me over to my table so that I can put on my wrap."
With that she put her glass down on the nearest table and held out her arms in a waltz position - a slow song was playing.
"Of course...sure," I mumbled in reply as I took her in my arms, although I was anything but "sure." I hadn't had close contact with an attractive adult female for two years and unfortunately the first part of what happened next was entirely predictable. I almost instantly got a boner when are bodies moved together. What happened after that wasn't predictable.
"Why that's the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid to me," she grinned as our bodies remained in contact despite the fact that she had to have felt my boner on her thigh.
"What...what?" I stuttered, hoping that she wasn't saying what I thought that she was.
"The fact that your cock would salute instantly on contact with my body is an enormous compliment, especially from a handsome man like you," she replied, staring me in the eye with a diabolical grin on her face.
"Uh...sorry...you are a beautiful woman but unfortunately there is a more complicated explanation for that," I mumbled trying to divert my gaze from her, but finding it impossible.
"Once we get to my table and I put on my wrap I insist that you tell me about why I shouldn't be unambiguously complimented."
With that she put her head on my shoulder, pulled me tighter, and whispered "Follow my lead."
It seemed that my dick got harder and harder. It didn't help that with her heels on she was the perfect height for comfortable dancing, or that her light amount of perfume was intoxicating, or that through our clothes her thigh never left contact with my cock. I robotically followed her lead, barely noticing that one song had ended and another slow song had begun. Had I been "with it" I might have realized that she was taking her sweet time maneuvering us to her table. It was long enough that I was fearful that I'd have a spontaneous ejaculation.
Finally we got near her table, and she broke close contact and led me by the hand over to where she had been sitting, and her wrap and purse were. As is common at "cause balls" most of the people sitting at her table had either left or were on the dance floor, so after she put her pashmina on she sat down and patted the adjacent seat. I sat down next to her and was instantly hit with a totally inappropriate question for someone I had met five minutes ago.
"So why shouldn't I be unequivocally flattered that your cock got instantly stiff when you contacted me?"
I know that I was sweating as I stared into her eyes. From our dance and my view of her as she led me to the table I knew that not only was her face beautiful but that she had a consummate ass and legs - and then, of course, there was that really nice and large left tit (which I assumed had a matching right one). She seemed to be about five - ten years younger than I was - either that or she was very, very well preserved.
