This isn't a stroke story. It doesn't contain lengthy vivid sex acts. It is multi chapters. It is wordy. It deals with cheating, infidelity and unknowing partners who find resolution in their own way. And no, they don't submissively 'go with it'. There are some violent acts portrayed none of which end in death or jail.
I'm not about favorites, story ratings. I do look at reader numbers. So, to the 100 people that read my stories - thank you, I appreciate it. Answers to commentators require honest answers but my real job makes life pretty busy all the damn time and I'm lazy. Any and all writing, spelling and punctuation errors are mine. Have a great day
NOTE:
I maybe lazy but not too lazy to say thank you to: All that have followed and supported the story.
Additionally to: My latest Aussie fan from Queensland (without a handle), silentsound, Omegaman56 and ohio, I appreciate all your comments and the time you took to email me. Thanks again to you all, best regards, stay safe. overwatcher.
'thongs or jandals' are flip-flops. (Oh, and before you ask thongs are also still thongs.)
'arvo' is afternoon.
'knob' name for someone distasteful, percieved stupid or disliked.
'Mate' is anybody you're talking to at the time through to very good friends. Mate is not gender specific.
'evils' is a harsh stare, sometimes with threat.
'to have (or not have) the nouse' means somebody has (or inversely doesn't have) the good sense, intelligence to understand the present situation.
'biff-o' to get biffed, tossed or thrown away.
Inner Circle: Australian made black rum.
From the end of CHAPTER 02.
The music was pumping in the kitchen and the obvious lack of people meant they must have been on the terrace. Laughter came from outside, and going by the two empty wine bottles, three used wine flutes and forty ounce bottles of Jamesons and Inner Circle things must be well underway. Two half full dishes of savourys and empty dessert plates meant they'd been eating but some of the guests may have left.
I'd no sooner moved from the fridge and taken a swig on the bottle in my hand, lit my cigar when through the door came my laughing bare-footed wife with the sexiest pair of cut-offs shes got (they're ripped front and back past the pockets and she looks fantastic in them normally she resisted wearing them with company or if she did it was with her bikini on). It was obvious she wore nothing underneath.
Then came the sleeveless t-shirt. It was a deep vee but tight enough across the front when she moved it showed she wasn't wearing a bra but loose arm openings large enough to see her tits in profile. She wears it when I'd been around and with company but again either with a bra or bikini top.
She hadn't seen me standing off to the side by the fridge as she was still laughing and looking at the people outside over her shoulder. Her sunglasses on when she turned toward me her eyes still use to the bright light would be trying to focus to the subdued darker light of the kitchen.
She turned with me partially obscured to her side as she stood at the bench pouring two more glasses of whiskey. I caught an ever so nice unobscured view of sideboob complete with dark areola and occasional flash of nipple.
She was taking her time pouring the drink, she chuckled to herself about something that'd just jerked her memory. I picked up the cellphone and set of keys on the bench next to me and then moved to the lounge to see who the protaginists were that were being offered such tempting views of my wife.
Son. Of a bitch. There lounging in my seat was a guy, sandy colored hair. dressed in a singlet, shorts and thong jandals and hopefully not with one of my cigars in his hand (although I suspected it was). His face hidden behind sunglasses not that it mattered.
He was shorter probably five feet, six, seven, eight? I'm six three so everyone below six eight is short.Around the corner came my wife still laughing and smiling carrying the tumblers of whiskey until she stood in front of mr sandy.
Just then the music shut off, still with mr sandy's drink in her hand she quietly mouthed "Fuck!" in response to the music finishing I suspected. She looked up and straight at me.
CHAPTER 03. Bad Things happen to Bad People.
Sunglasses hid her eyes but her expression suggested whatever it was she saw wasn't registering. Yet. Until it did.
I'd not seen a persons expression turn to despair like it did to Kasey. She shuffled to a sideways stagger.
'Sandy hair' said something to Kasey and it flicked a switch, raising her left hand she upended the tumbler. It slipped from her grasp fell missing sandy's head and glanced off his shoulder. He wore most of the whiskey. The parts it didn't get the second glass got when she slung its contents at him.
He jumped to his feet as she broke down. I could see what was on his mind. When I banged on the locked french doors to get his attention he turned and realised why my wife reacted the way she did.
I pointed my finger and stared at him. That was all it took. His head went down and he wouldn't look at me. Spreading his arms, his hands splayed apart he sat down hard. His hands wrapped over the back of his head. He'd keep for now.
Kasey was bawling her eyes out as she quickly moved towards her kitchen. Shitstains' head came up as he cupped his mouth and nose with both hands. He didn't want to look my way, his look though said it all. The one thing on his mind at the moment was a strategic painless withdrawal. Unfortunately I had his cellphone and keys.
As I walked to the kitchen, Kasey had made it through the door, but by the crash and bangs only just. I had to go look to find her, it was only her sniffles that told me where she was hiding, on the floor inside her walk-in pantry. The first part of her kitchen she designed its her bolthole in her bolthole.
She sat prone against the wall hugging her knees. Her head buried where the world couldn't see her. Opening the pantry door, she flinched, pulling her legs tighter to her body, "Kasey come on out."
She shrunk away and as I knelt and reached, forced and wrapped an arm around her upper body she quietly spoke, "No, no, no. Regan. Don't. Don't look at me. I'm so ashamed. I'm so sorry. Just leave me be Reeg. Please" The crying jag started again.
"Nope, nothing gets fixed while you're feeling sorry for yourself Kase." I noticed a quick glance at me when I called her name before she hid her face again. As gently as I could I lifted her to me and carried her to where she could sit, grabbed a chair and sat facing her my legs either side of hers so escape wasn't easy for her.
Picking up her left hand I held it, found my hankerchief and gave it to her, "Kasey. We got a lot to talk about. A lot to sort out."
In the meekest voice I've ever heard out of Kasey,
"Yes."
