A cold rain was falling, slow but steady, as I drove home that night.
Even though it was almost 7:30, the traffic on the expressway was horrendous, probably because of the weather and the fact that it was Friday, with everyone trying to get out of town for the weekend.
I wasn't surprised. The heavy stop-and-go traffic, which I absolutely abhor, was fitting for the kind of week it had been. Nothing had gone right, either at the office or at home.
I'm a vice president for a major manufacturing company in a large Midwestern city, and while it pays me very well and allows me to enjoy a fairly affluent lifestyle, it comes with big responsibilities. And it seemed like those responsibilities had put me squarely in the line of fire from a number of directions.
The week had started with a bad accident at one of our plants that had left three workers seriously injured. Not only did I have the stress of that weighing on me, but I'd had to face a rather contentious media barrage, as if they were trying to blame the company for what had happened.
It was indeed possible we were somehow at fault, but we wouldn't know anything until we conducted an investigation, and the press thought that sounded evasive.
Exacerbating the situation was the fact that our contract with the union was due to expire in a couple of months, and negotiations weren't going well. We faced the real prospect of a strike, something we had managed to avoid for almost 25 years.
Then on Wednesday, we had gotten word that testing on the prototype for a new product my department was developing had not gone well. It hadn't failed exactly, but it had not performed the way we had hoped.
That had resulted in a stern sit-down with the CEO on Thursday, who told us – me, my boss and my assistants – that our jobs could be on the line here, because the company had spent a lot of money developing and promoting this product, and failure was not an option.
So I had worked very late that night, trying to figure out why it hadn't worked like it was supposed to, and as a result I had missed my daughter's dance recital. That had led to a rather heated exchange with my wife, who accused me of putting my work ahead of my family, something I had vowed would never happen.
And things had not gone well with her even before that.
Olivia had been on her period the first part of the week, so she was moody, and we'd been a little snippy with each other all week, anyway. She teaches sixth-graders at the local middle school, so she has plenty of stress in her job, same as I do, and it seemed like we'd been taking out our frustrations on each other.
We've been married for 17 years, and we love each other quite intensely, but when you've been together as long as we have, love takes some work, and lately we had gotten lazy in expressing our affection for each other.
Trust me when I say that it's worth the effort. Olivia is absolutely gorgeous, with penetrating brown eyes, shoulder-length brunette hair, cut in tapered bangs in front. Her lips are full and her nose unobtrusive.
But her best feature, by far, the one feature that everyone first notices about her are her breasts. I am not exaggerating when I say that she's got the biggest, most succulent pair of tits I've ever had the pleasure of getting my mouth on.
She's a little taller than average and well built, without an ounce of excess anywhere – except for those tits. My God, are they wonderful. They're a pillowy pair of 36Es that every man who's ever met her just drools over.
And that's not all. Her trim legs meet at the junction of one of the juiciest pussies a man could ever want. She's got a thick set of labia that seem to beckon like the gates of heaven when she gets hot, and she gets hot a lot. She's half-Italian by birth, and she's got a fiery nature, especially when it comes to sex. The whole effect is framed by a thick dark bush that I love to play with.
Me? I'm Irish to the core, with the red hair and freckles to prove it. I'm right under six feet tall, and while I was never coordinated enough to play team sports in high school, I was a pretty good runner, and I've stayed in decent shape ever since.
Just thinking about Olivia that night set my groin to tingling, and I thought about a nice way to make amends for missing Susie's recital. But then I remembered that it was Friday night, so the kids were going to be up late, probably with friends over, so that put a damper on that idea.
It figured. Just my luck. I have a bad week at work, Olivia and I are bitching at each other, the weather is lousy, traffic is heavy, and, oh by the way, I couldn't reach my wife on the phone.
I'd tried to call and tell her that I was going to be a little bit late, but had gotten no answer. I'd left a message on the answering machine, but it had me concerned. It was unusual that she wasn't home on a Friday night, and in my dark mood, I was conjuring up all sorts of reasons why she wouldn't answer.
I'll be the first to admit that our sex life had taken a beating in recent weeks because of my job. I was working late a lot and coming home tired, and now that the kids had reached a certain age, it was a lot harder to plan private time for just the two of us.
We have two sons, aged 14 and 12, plus Susie's 9. It just seemed like they were taking up more and more of our time, and we had less and less time for each other. As I said, we'd gotten in a rut, and put our relationship on cruise control, and that was nagging at the back of my mind.
I waited a little while, until I got out to the outer suburbs and traffic thinned out a little, then tried the house again. Same thing; I got the answering machine.
I didn't bother leaving a message, and instead called Olivia's cell phone. I figured if there was some emergency, she'd have her cell phone with her, as she always did when she went out. But it was the same thing as the home phone; I got her voice mail after the first ring.
Now I was really starting to wonder what was going on. I've never cheated on Olivia, and to my knowledge she'd never cheated on me. The idea was unthinkable. But the more I worked it over in my overworked brain, the more unsure I became.
Olivia couldn't possibly be running around on me, could she? I wracked my brain trying to think of anything suspicious that might have been a clue – an unexplained absence, a telltale odor, some little lie – and nothing came to mind.
True, we had argued quite heatedly the night before, and neither one of us had apologized before going to bed, which wasn't the least bit normal for us. I had stormed off and gone for a long walk, and by the time I got home, Olivia was in bed asleep.
But the gist of the argument had had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with the fact that I was letting work become more important than my family.
It was nothing I hadn't heard before, but I began to wonder if the previous night's fight had been the straw that broke the camel's back, that Olivia had decided she was going out to get whatever emotional and sexual needs met that I wasn't fulfilling.
