My Wifes Lawyers Pheromones

This story could also go in non-consent, so if that's not your thing, you've been warned.

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I'm Kevin Simms, at the start of this story a thirty two year old attorney, mostly dealing in negotiating and litigating contracts, although I do dabble in other areas. At the start of this story I had been married for eight years to Deborah (never Debby) Simms, who works in sales for a Fortune 1000 company. I'm now divorcing her.

The details relating to the divorce aren't necessarily important but I'll relate a few of them anyway. I caught Deborah cheating with a co-worker of hers at lunchtime at our rented house. They were so into it that I was able to get the keys out of his pants, which were strewn on the floor at the entrance to our bedroom, without them noticing me. I turned on our security camera (with a delay requiring the front door to open once more after I left before recording so that it didn't catch me doing what I was going to do) covering the front door and surrounding area, which usually we only turn on at night, and then silently exited the house with his keys in hand.

With gloves on I unlocked Deborah's lover's car - which they obviously had arrived in together. I popped the hood then cut every single wire and hose in the engine compartment using a tree pruning tool from my garage. I then closed and locked the car up and took the keys with me. I disposed of the keys and the tree pruner in a dumpster behind a 7-11 that I knew did not have a security camera.

From a pay phone at the 7-11 I called Jim Jackson, an 80+ year old retired neighbor who I was very friendly with and who lived only two doors down. I gave him some flimsy excuse to ask him to go by my house - Jim has signs of dementia and by the next day would likely never remember me even calling him. I asked him to call me at my office if something was amiss at my house. I made sure that he wrote down my office number.

The phone was ringing as soon as I walked through my office door.

"Hi Keith," Jim started out - half the time he called me "Keith," the other half by my real name "Kevin." "There's a big bustle in front of your house. Diana," - he got Deborah's name wrong constantly, although all the names he called her always started with a "D" - "and some guy are fiddling with a car."

"Thanks, Jim" I chuckled. "Want me to get you something from the store on my way home tonight?"

"Some Wild Turkey sure would be nice," he coughed.

"You got it, Jim," I said with a smile before hanging up.

I called Deborah's cell phone. She sounded exasperated when she answered it "Hello."

"Hi Deborah, I just got a call from our neighbor Jim Jackson. He said that you are having car trouble or something?"

"Oh, well, uh... someone vandalized my car and I have to have it towed."

"Jim said that there was some guy there helping you?"

"Oh, yeah, some guy walking down the street tried to help but we have to wait for a tow truck."

"Is there something that I can do? Do you want me to come home right now?"

"Oh no no no," she said way too hurriedly and enthusiastically. "The tow truck should be here any minute."

"Well make sure that you get the bill from the tow truck driver so that I can put it through to our insurance if the car was vandalized. What were you doing home at lunch anyway?"

"Oh, uh, well, you see, well," Deborah always has trouble getting things out when she's lying, "I had to get some documents for a presentation that I was to make this afternoon and I had forgotten them at home, and it took me a while to find them, and in the meantime someone vandalized my car."

"Well if there's anything that you need this afternoon please just give me call the office. I would love to help. Bye now."

"Uh, bye, uh, thanks for calling Kevin," she stuttered before she cut off her phone.

"It should be a very interesting discussion when I show her the footage from the camera at the front door tonight," I chuckled to myself. Maybe "chuckled" is the wrong word. I was not in any way shape or form in a good mood. I saw the end of my marriage, and I didn't like it. Maybe it wasn't the best marriage in the world, but I thought that at least we loved each other and that she was faithful - I know that I always was.

_________________

That night when I got home, after dropping off a quart of Wild Turkey for Jim, I asked Deborah about the car. "Oh I was able to take care of it just fine," she lied.

"Do you have the receipt from the tow truck and the repair?"

"Oh I was able to take care of them myself with the insurance company right from my office. There's no reason for you to get involved."

"Oh, that's normally something that you need my help with. I'm glad to see that you were able to take care of it by yourself."

As I went to hang up my suit jacket in the front closet I said in a voice loud enough for her to hear me in the kitchen "Deborah, honey, did you turn on the camera for the security system at the front door when you came home for lunch?"

"Oh, no - - - I don't think that I did, Kevin."

"We'll somehow it got on; let's see what it recorded; maybe it caught the vandal on video." By the time that I finished saying that I already had removed the CD and was at the entrance to my office. I was inserting the CD into the computer when Deborah appeared at the office door with all the color drained from her face.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Kevin; why don't you come to dinner now and we can look at it afterwards," she nervously said. Obviously she had plans to remove and destroy the CD before I could view it.

"No, I just want to get a quick look now," I said as the image from the camera already was starting to appear on the monitor. There, in living color, as clear as a bell, was my dear wife Deborah and her lover, exiting the house, smiling at each other, even exchanging a kiss, and with her lover's arm around her.

"What the hell is this?" I asked pretending to be surprised. "I thought that you told me that you came home for lunch by yourself. Who the hell is this guy, and why were you kissing him and letting him hold you? And who's car is that in front of the house, it's certainly not yours?"

Deborah started stuttering something, saw the angry look on my face, and saw her lover looking for his keys and then both of them going back to the front door. She burst into tears and ran to her bedroom. I ejected the CD and put it in my pocket. I walked up to our bedroom, packed two suitcases as she lay in bed crying, interrupting her sobs only with "What are you doing Kevin?"

As I left the bedroom with the two suitcases in hand I asked "Where would you like me to serve you with the divorce papers?"

It was a legitimate question but her answer was totally unintelligible. Therefore I continued "Well, since I can't understand you, I guess I'll have to serve you at work because I don't know when you'll be here, or who you'll have over to fuck when you are."

I exited the front door to a variety of shrieks and sobs.

________________

They say that an attorney who represents himself has a fool for a client. That may be so, especially since I'd never handled a divorce in my legal career, but I was not about to spend the amount of money that would be necessary to hire some family law shark. I did go to one woman in our firm, however, who regularly did some family law work, got a standard divorce complaint from her, and had it filed and served by the next morning.

Deborah called shortly after she was served. "Why are you divorcing me, Kevin? I thought that we loved each other. You don't know anything about what happened, yet you flew off the handle and filed for divorce. You haven't even talked with me about it."

"I would have talked about it with you last night, but you were in no condition to have a conversation. Plus, all I would get from you would be more lies. You lied to me about who's car it was, that no one was with you, and why you went home at lunch time - I certainly didn't see you carrying any papers out of the house, not that you would have been able to since you had your arms around your lover. Why would I bother talking to you now about it when all I'll get is more lies?"

"Haven't you ever made a mistake, Kevin? I just made a mistake. One simple mistake. Surely we can get over it; there's no need for you to just haul off and file a divorce petition."

"You're a liar, pure and simple Deborah. I wouldn't believe anything else you ever had to tell me, and a marriage where there is no trust whatsoever is not the type of marriage I want to be in. Just think of it, after our divorce you can fuck anybody you want and you don't even have to give me a thought - not that you gave me a thought when you were fucking your lover boy yesterday."

"But Kevin - - -," Deborah started to continue with real desperation in her voice.

"As the last act of love I'm going to give you, Deborah, I'm telling you to get yourself a good divorce attorney - you're going to need one."

In retrospect, that bit of advice started out to be the worst that I've ever given anyone - that is as it affected me - but it eventually turned out great.

The divorce attorney that Deborah hired was Virginia Bates. According to her biography in Martindale and Hubbell, Virginia was 39 years old at the time that Deborah hired her, although I think that most people would agree that she looked much younger. I knew her casually from serving on a committee with her for the local Bar Association. I found her intriguing because she was always very proper, and always conservatively dressed in a business suit, whenever I had dealings with her, yet there seem to be something underlying her exterior that I couldn't really put my finger on but was enthralling.

Virginia is about 5'7" tall and although not really slim is certainly not overweight. Her face and hair are very pleasant, if not beautiful, but she always had a rather stern business expression on her face and rarely wore makeup. It was hard to tell exactly what her body looked like because of her wardrobe, but her calves did look nice in the three inch heels that she normally wore. I had never had any adversarial dealings with Virginia because as far as I know she practices family law exclusively, but I have heard from some of my friends who have gone against her that she is a complete and total ball-buster. "Should be interesting" I said to myself as soon as I received her Notice of Appearance.

Virginia's first contact with me was a pleasant one. "Hi Kevin, I assume that you received my Notice of Appearance. I was hoping that we could discuss some form of reconciliation"

"Hi Virginia. Normally I love to settle cases without having to go too much expense, or to trial, and this one is no exception. However I'm afraid that there isn't going to be any reconciliation."

"From my discussions with Deborah, it seems that your entire petition is based upon some form of misunderstanding. Apparently you believe that Deborah was cheating, but she assures me that she wasn't."

"All that tells me is the Deborah continues to be a blatant liar. Why would I want to stay married to someone who constantly lies?"

"Do you have any proof that she was cheating on you?"

"If you look at the petition for divorce carefully, Virginia, you will see that I am not alleging adultery. I don't need proof. I know that it happened and I know that I don't want to be married to a liar. The marriage is over. All that remains is to work out the property settlement"

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Kevin," Virginia said with somewhat of an edge to her voice. "Deborah has instructed me to fight this tooth and nail, and I certainly will be applying for marriage counseling. I know that you don't normally practice family law Kevin, but most of the judges in the Family Court in this jurisdiction are very anxious to see if the parties can work something out before they grant a divorce."

"I can't stop Deborah from wasting her time and money but the result is going to be the same. I look forward to receipt of your formal response."

True to her word, Virginia employed every trick that a seasoned family law attorney could in order to forestall the divorce. She and I did end up fighting it tooth and nail in a number of court appearances but since she was more familiar with the law and the judges she normally prevailed on points of procedure, such as requiring marriage counseling, etc. I couldn't afford to jeopardize my law license by acting in contempt of the judge's order, so I did have to attend counseling sessions. How she enabled it, I don't know, but Virginia even got herself invited to at least parts of some of the counseling sessions.

All the counseling sessions ended up the same. I made it clear to the counselor, Virginia, and Deborah, that I didn't think that there was much chance of reconciliation, but the chance was zero unless Deborah admitted that she had cheated on me, and gave me a complete account of all of the sexual encounters that she had had with others since we got married. That would, at some point, reduce Deborah to tears, exasperate the counselor, and get snide remarks from Virginia if she was present. Since all I got was denials, no progress was made.

When there was only one court ordered counseling session remaining, I got a call from Virginia. "Kevin, I need to have a real heart-to-heart talk with you about this case. It's really bothering me. I know that you're holding something back, and I don't like it. You know that I eventually may take your deposition, and then you either have to lie under oath or give it up, so I would like to talk with you one last time see if we can resolve some issues."

"Sorry, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus," I laughed into the phone. It was a line from the classic Christmas movie" Miracle On 34th Street" that I always wanted to use but never had the opportunity to before. Virginia Bates didn't think that it was nearly as funny as I thought that it was."

"Ha, Ha, Kevin. It's nice to see that you do something else aside from reduce your wife to tears; but we really need to talk. Any time, any place."

"I'm in a trial this upcoming week, Virginia. The only possible time is long after work on Friday, at my apartment."

"Why can't we meet at someone's office? And why does it have to be Friday night. I have a barbecue to go to that night."

"Once I'm done with my trial on Friday, I'm going straight to my apartment - which by the way is not nearly as comfortable as the rented house your client is still living in - and then I have plans for the weekend. You're the one who said any time, any place, and I assume that you're not a liar like Deborah is so I'll see you Friday night."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a while, then: "Okay, but I can't get there until about 10 o'clock because of the barbecue I'm going to. What's your address?"

I gave Virginia my address and brief directions on how to get there; she seemed to be familiar with the area.

________________

Fortunately, I wrote down on my calendar at home that Virginia would be coming by Friday night. I had a very difficult, time-consuming, and energy-sapping trial that lasted from Monday morning all the way through Friday at about 4 o'clock. It was well worth it, however, since the jury came back with the best award that I had ever received as a litigator. Since I had the case on a contingency fee basis I would end up with much more money than I had ever gotten before for a trial. Also, because of my arrangement with my client, I could legitimately put off my payday until after the divorce was final - assuming that Virginia didn't keep screwing up the timeframe - so that I wouldn't have to share it with my cheating wife.

The two paralegals from my firm who helped me, three members of my client, and I, went to dinner and a bar to celebrate afterwards. It was 9:30 before I got home. I had changed into just a T-shirt and some jogging shorts when I noticed on the calendar that Virginia would be coming by. I had a buzz on, because I don't normally drink and I had celebrated with everyone else, so I was really bemoaning the fact that I would have to deal with her.

I wasn't surprised - I was flabbergasted - when Virginia knocked on my door at 10:15 wearing casual clothes. They weren't just any casual clothes. They were Daisy Duke shorts, sandals, and a tank top. She had probably had as much to drink as I had given her slurring of words. Although I was still in shock when she started talking, I think that basically she started out by apologizing for not being in her normal business suit and heels.

My eyes popped out of my head! In my defense, the day that I caught Deborah cheating was now two months ago, and I had not been laid in the interim so I was horny as hell, and Virginia's outfit gave me an entirely new perspective on her sexuality. Her thighs were spectacular and her boobs much bigger than ever could be gleaned by looking at her in her normal business attire.

I offered her a drink - it was the last thing that she needed, but she accepted and not to be a poor host I poured myself one too. We sat in my living room, her across from me. I spent the majority of my time, instead of listening to her, trying to look up her shorts. As best as I could tell, the only thing underneath her shorts was a hairy pussy. I know that I tented my pants, but I didn't make any attempt to cover up.

Finally Virginia snapped me out of my stupor by saying "Hey asshole; did you listen to anything that I had to say?"

"Get to your point Virginia. I'm not a judge or jury. I'm just a cheated-upon spouse, so just say what you have to say with no legalese."

In an extraordinarily sarcastic tone Virginia replied "Oh, poor baby, is your fragile male ego shattered because you think that your wife stepped out on you once?"

"My male ego is just fine, bitch," was my pleasant reply. "What your client is is a fucking liar and I simply can't trust her."

"Is that it, or are you feeling inadequate; aren't you capable of giving her an orgasm anymore? Do you want to divorce her because you're afraid that your dick is going limp?"

"There's nothing wrong with my dick, bitch. It would ream out your pussy just fine!"

"I don't have to listen to you insult me, fuck stick," Virginia said as she rose from her seat and walked toward me. I stood up too. I never mentioned it before, but I'm 6'6" tall, almost a foot taller than Virginia.

"You're the one who's been insulting, Virginia. Was that your plan, tell me that I have a frail male ego and humiliate me into crawling back to Deborah?"

"If you were a man, you'd fight for her instead of filing your pissy little divorce petition," Virginia challenged as she poked her index finger into my chest.

As she did that, I got a real good view of her left tit. Her halter top was the tie-up type, and it had become loose. I wondered what kind of barbecue she'd been at where she didn't have a bra or panties on. She saw me staring at her tit and hit me with another zinger. "Keep your eyes where they belong, dipshit. You're not man enough to look at a real woman."

I still, to this day, do not know what came over me. My behavior was not just atypical, it was downright contrary to everything that I believed in. My excuses are that I was super tired from a very long, draining, week, I had not had any alcohol in a long time and I was really feeling the effects, I hadn't been laid in two months, her attitude of challenging my masculinity was really irritating, and she looked so, so, fucking hot!

I grabbed one half of her top with each of my hands and pulled them apart, ripping her top. I then threw it on the floor. She had really; and I mean REALLY; nice tits, with puffy nipples. I love puffy nipples.

I was so entranced by her tits that I don't think that I even felt her first slap across my face. I did feel the second slap. I grabbed both of her hands in one of mine, threw her over my shoulder, and started carrying her toward my bedroom. She was swearing a blue streak, trying to hit me - even though I had immobilized her hands - undulating her pelvis, flailing her legs, and doing everything possible to escape. However she did not scream.