Nice Guy

Chapter 1: The Trip

I dropped Janice off at the airport in plenty of time for her flight to Oakland. This was her annual summer pilgrimage to the San Francisco Bay area to see family and friends. Two weeks in the Bay Area for her, while I stayed behind in sunny Spokane. Since we bought ten acres four years ago, one of us had to stay with the property during the warm months to take care of the property, the garden and the animals.

It was also a "freedom" vacation for Jan, since she had retired from the Spokane School District the previous month. We had created a retirement master plan: build a small retirement home on a country lot with cash we had saved. I would stay employed for the next eight years until I was 62 to provide income and health insurance, and Jan would retire now at 55 so she could devote full time to our plan. We were going to grow old together. That was the plan.

Jan's trip included overnight visits to three couples who lived in Berkeley and North Oakland, then she would spend a week with her parents in Monterrey before flying back to Spokane. One couple, Robert and Karen Klein, lived in Berkeley and were particularly close to us. We all had met in college and become fast friends. Robert and Janice had a one night fling in college before we had settled into being couples, and Jan held a particularly soft place in her heart for Robert.

Jan and I were really close and devoted to each other, and I missed her terribly when she went on these summer trips. I kept very busy with working a full-time job then coming home for three to four hours of chores around the property. We chatted every night on the phone. Jan wanted to keep me informed of all the changes and events with family and friends.

We also had a very active sex life for a couple in their mid fifties. Age does cause you to adapt, but we kept the bedroom activities alive and fresh with new ideas and experiments. We both gave and received massage that usually ended with an erotic interlude. She was a fun, exciting and beautiful wife. I valued every minute with her, and I looked forward to her vacation return.

Tragedy struck one day before Jan's return to Spokane. Karen Klein worked for the state transportation department as a construction supervisor. Her current project was a bridge deck replacement, and she was at the wrong place when a crane hoisting a ten ton precast slab failed. She died instantly. Jan rushed back to Berkeley from her parent's house when she heard the news. After she assessed the situation she called me.

"Greg, how are you honey? How are the dogs?"

"We're doing fine. I'm missing you terribly. How are Robert and their kids?"

"Robert is devastated. He's walking around in shock. I think he's expecting Karen to come through the door anytime. Joe and Becky are supporting him as best they can."

"What are your plans? Sounds like they could use some help, Jan."

"Joe and Becky asked me to stay and help with organizing the memorial service and with keeping the household going. I've changed my reservation to delay returning for two weeks. Are you going to be okay with that?"

"Well, I'm horny as hell for you. But we have friends who need our help. You stay with Robert as long as you are needed. Let's keep calling daily, okay?"

"You're a sweetie, Greg. I'm staying in Robert and Karen's guest room on the first floor."

"The guest room with the awful mattress on the bed?"

"Yes, you do remember! I'll be fine. Love you"

"I love you, too."

A two week extension of Jan's vacation to help with Karen's memorial service. That was the plan.

Chapter 2: Bad News

Late summer was hot. I cut back on the evening chores because of the heat. Jan had reduced our calls to five minutes every other evening. She said she was really busy working on the memorial service.

The memorial service had to be rescheduled twice due to conflicts. Jan sent me an email with the memorial service announcement. That same email included her new return itinerary. Her two week extension had grown to three and a half weeks.

I asked her if I should come down for the memorial service. Jan said no, that I should stay and watch the property. She was handling everything just fine.

After the service and a few days before her scheduled return to Spokane Jan called me.

"We need to talk, Greg. I just met with Joe and Becky. I have more bad news."

It turns out that Robert had an inoperable aortic aneurism. He was diagnosed about three months ago and was given six to nine months to live. Karen was planning to take an extended family medical leave to be with him in his final months. Now that Karen was gone, Robert was in a deep depression. He had no will to live.

"The only reason he gets up in the morning is because I badger him and get him moving. He's in really bad shape, Greg."

"Sound like he needs professional help, Jan," I offered. "Have you taken him in to see his doctor?"

"He refuses to see any more doctors," Jan replied. "They gave him a death sentence, and he can't stand to go near a doctor's office. It makes him physically ill."

"What about Joe and Becky? Can they move in with him to help out?" I asked.

"They both have their own families, Greg. Joe's wife just had a baby six months ago."

"Okay. It doesn't sound like there's a good solution. I'm sorry." I said.

Jan didn't reply.

"Jan? Are you still there?"

"Greg, I want to stay with Robert until he dies." Jan stated.

It was my turn not to reply. Wheels were turning in my head. Something was not quite right.

"Greg? Did you hear me? I want to stay with Robert until he dies."

"Janice," I asked slowly and deliberately, "are you and Robert sharing a bed?"

She didn't reply.

"Jan, are you and Robert fucking?" I restated my question.

"That's none of your goddamn business," she shot back. "I don't want him to die alone. That's not right. Don't you understand?"

"What I understand is that my wife of thirty years wants to leave me and live with another man as husband and wife," I answered. "What does Robert think about your idea? He's a good man and my friend. He would never agree to you leaving me."

"Robert said that I could stay as long as you were in full agreement with the arrangement, Greg."

"Well, that's simple," I answered. "I do not agree. You are my wife. Your place is with me. Now say your goodbyes in the next few days, then, get on that plane and back to Spokane as scheduled. Am I being clear?

"We will deal with the issue of your infidelity when you get back," I added.

Jan's response took me by surprise.

"You goddamn asshole," she screamed at me. "You're ruining everything! Well, fuck you, Greg, fuck you!"

She hung up.

That did not go so well, I reflected. I finished my chores and went to bed.

Jan did not call me the next evening.

The following day, I was leaving work for lunch, and a man approached me with a smile.

"Are you Greg McLeod?" he asked.

"Yes, I am."

"You've been served!" he exclaimed as he thrust a manila envelope at me and walked away.

Inside the envelope were three papers. The first was a restraining order preventing me from having any contact, direct or indirect, with Jan, Robert and Robert's family. It also required that I stay at least fifty miles away from Robert's home, Jan's current residence.

The second document was a sworn affidavit signed by Janis McLeod documenting years of spousal abuse. It stated that she was afraid of me, and that I would probably kill her if I found her. It was bogus!

The third paper was a hand-written note: "Stay away until Robert dies. Or else! J"

She had gone mad! I started to get pissed, then, stopped. No, I needed to see a lawyer as soon as possible.

The attorney at work gave me a referral for a good Spokane lawyer. I made an appointment for the next morning.

Doug Saxon was about half my age, but he was a sharp and savvy attorney. After reading the documents, he gave me the bad news.

"You are screwed, my friend," he began.

"But the affidavit is bogus!" I replied.

"That may be true. But remember the law doesn't care about the truth. If you fight this, you will spend thirty to forty thousand dollars in court and attorney fees. And she will probably fight you all the way. If you win, you clear your name, and it cost you forty thousand dollars. And she goes to jail for perjury. If you lose, it still costs you forty thousand dollars."

"What do you recommend, Doug?" I asked.

"Well, Greg, you are the client. I'll do whatever you want," Doug leaned back in his chair and smiled. "That's my professional recommendation."

I waited.

"My personal recommendation is that you begin divorce proceedings immediately based on abandonment."

"Doug, she's still my wife," I began.

"Look, Greg, you seem like a nice guy. And nice guys always get taken to the cleaners! Wake up my friend. She's not your wife anymore. She's living as Robert's wife now, and she is willing to go to jail for perjury to keep you away from them."

"Damn!" He was right.

"You need to protect whatever financial assets you have right now. She may have already cleaned you out.

"Take this divorce packet with you, fill it out completely and return it to me as soon as possible. If the timing works out, the divorce may be final in three or four months."

Doug was right again. I visited the credit union next, and the retirement house account only had a ten dollars balance. Two days ago the balance was over one hundred forty-seven thousand dollars. It took us ten years to save that money. Gone, all gone. The other accounts were untouched. I spent the rest of the afternoon closing all the joint accounts and transferring funds to an account in my name only.

The credit union also informed me that Jan's retirement checks were no longer being deposited with their institution. Our joint credit card account was paid off and cancelled immediately. We had reduced our credit cards down to one account with the credit union in anticipation of our impending retirement. I requested a new card in my name only. It would take a week to arrive. I could live without a credit card for a week.

The shock and surprise of the past two days caught up with me as I pulled into the driveway at home. I was really pissed off. I didn't go into the house; I walked directly to the wood pile and began splitting half-rounds. Chopping wood is my therapy. Cheaper than a therapist, and the winter wood gets split. A win-win effort.

After two sweaty hours, I went inside and took a shower. I wasn't hungry, so I took our two dogs for a walk. When I returned, I noticed a message on the phone recorder. I played it. It was Jan. She had called while I was chopping wood.

"Greg, you asshole! You cancelled my credit card! Have you no compassion for a dying man? What's wrong with you? Fuck you, Greg, fuck you!"

Sounds like she was having as good a day as I had. I smiled.

Chapter 3: Filing for Divorce

It took me two days to collect the information and fill out the packet. When I dropped the papers with Doug, he told me that initial divorce paper filing would be in about one week. Jan would be served divorce papers at that time, and she would have up to thirty days to respond. I thanked him.

The next week went by slowly. The people at work knew something was wrong, but thankfully they asked no questions. I fell into a routine: work, chores, sleep. And I chopped a lot of wood.

Early the next week Doug called me at work and told me the papers were filed that day, and that Jan would be served the next morning. So it begins, I thought. The end of a thirty-year marriage.

The next evening Jan called again and left a message while I was chopping wood.

"I don't know what game you're trying to play, Greg. But it won't work. I destroyed those papers without opening the envelope. You're just trying to get to Robert and let him know you don't approve. Stay away from us, Greg, or I'll put your ass in jail. Do you understand? Just stay away from us!"

The next day I called Doug and let him know that Jan didn't open the envelope.

"It doesn't matter, Greg." He told me. "The only thing that matters is that she was provided the information, whether she reads it or not is up to her. The calendar started yesterday. In three months you will be a free man! We will provide her one more notice thirty days before the divorce is final."

Somehow I didn't really feel good about that news. In fact, it seemed like I was not feeling good about anything anymore. This whole situation really sucked. So much for being a nice guy.

The only positive benefit of the past two weeks was my wood pile. I now had enough wood split for two winters. I visited the wood pile and considered my options. I had about three cords more than I had room to store under cover to keep dry.

I decided to visit one of my neighbors, Gail Swanson. Gail lived two parcels down the road from me on five acres with a neat ranch home. She was retired, mid sixties, and her husband had died about five years ago. Cancer, I think. Folks in the neighborhood looked after Gail. After a heavy snowfall I would use my tractor and plow her driveway out and others would help her with clearing and slash burning in the spring. Maybe she could use firewood.

I walked down the road, and I saw Gail working in the yard as I approached.

"Hi, Greg," she started. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Hi Gail," I responded. "I split too much firewood. Do you need any?"

"That's mighty nice of you, Greg. How much extra do you have?"

"About three cords," I said glancing at her small wood pile. "Looks like you have room."

"Sure, bring the wood over," she responded. "I need to take a break, so let's go up on the porch and sit. I have iced tea in the fridge."

Gail put away her yard tools, and I went over to check her wood pile more closely. We met on the porch in a few minutes. Gail provided two tall glasses of cold iced tea.

"When my Fred would chop lots of wood, it was always because he was angry or frustrated and tryin' to work it out," Gail began. "Choppin' wood is a good way to work things out."

I just sipped my iced tea.

"Young man," she gently lectured, "keepin' it all inside won't help. You're carryin' a load on your shoulders right now. I'm a good listener, and I've got the time."

I took another sip of iced tea and began.

"It's Janice. She won't come home. She's living with another man in Berkeley."

The next forty-five minutes I talked without a break, telling my story. Gail just listened. When I ran out of things to say, I stopped. I felt empty, almost peaceful.

"That's quite a story, Greg," Gail said patting my arm. "Feel better?"

I nodded.

Chapter 4: Home-Cooked Meal

"I'm makin' a suggestion here, Greg. You go get that wood and stack it in my wood pile. I'll make us some dinner. Sounds like you haven't had someone fix you a home-cooked meal in ages. Deal?"

"Sure," I said with a smile. "I'd like that."

An hour later, Gail had three more cords in her wood pile, and I was sitting down to a simple, delicious meal with her. We talked about the neighbors, the weather, and the upcoming elections. After dinner, we sat on her porch drinking tea. I felt better, more relaxed than I had in weeks. I felt comfortable with Gail. She was easy to be with.

"You look better, Greg. When you first came over here you were wound tighter than a drum."

"I appreciate your kindness, Gail," I replied.

"Why don't we make this regular-like. How about comin' over on Wednesday and Saturday for dinner? I could use the company, and I think it would help you relax. No pressure, just come if you are available, okay?"

I agreed, and we chatted for another half hour.

I stood up to leave and Gail gave me a good long hug. I hadn't been this close to a woman in over seven weeks and I immediately got a hard-on, much to my embarrassment. When we broke the hug, her hand brushed the bulge in my jeans.

"You let Gail know, if you need any "special" help now, won't you?" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

I mumbled something to her and walked back to the house. I jacked off as soon as I got home, and it felt good, really good. I imagined Gail was giving me a hand job.

I continued my routine through the week: work, chores, sleep. Wednesday evening I showed up at Gail's place for dinner. Another simple, delicious dinner, then chatting on the porch until dusk and a nice, warm hug. The rest of the week was easier, and I felt less depressed. I looked forward to Saturday night dinner.

Saturday night started much the same as Wednesday. A wonderful dinner followed by a chat on the front porch. We talked until dusk, both of us enjoying the companionship.

"Well, Gail, thanks for another great dinner and fine conversation. I enjoyed myself tonight. Thank you."

"I appreciate your company as well," she responded. "And I'm glad you enjoyed my cooking."

She paused briefly.

"I also fix a nice breakfast."

I didn't know what to say. So I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"I like my eggs scrambled."

Without saying a word, Gail rose from her chair and gave me a long passionate kiss. I eagerly responded in kind. God, it felt good to be kissed again!

"I make great scrambled eggs," she whispered breaking her kiss.

"Kiss me again. Please."

She did. Another passionate kiss, and this time she caressed my shirt working her way down, then she found the bulge in my jeans. I moaned through the long kiss.

"God, Gail," I gasped catching my breath after her kiss, "that was wonderful."

Without saying a word, she moved to the front of my chair, pushed my knees apart, and knelt down right in front of me. Gail expertly undid the top button and unzipped my jeans, and within seconds she was firmly stroking my hard cock. It was heavenly!

"Say, uh, Gail, uh," I tried to speak through her strokes, "we're still on the porch. Oh, wow, that feels good! People can, uh, see us."

A car drove by on the road. In the darkening dusk I thought I saw the driver look our way.

"Well," replied Gail with a smile, "let's give 'em somethin' to look at shall we?"

She stopped stoking me, and began to unbutton her denim shirt. She threw the shirt on her empty chair, and then she undid her bra and placed it on top of her shirt. Her smallish tits sagged slightly without the support. She looked up at me and grinned as she moved forward to take the head of my cock between her lips.

I moaned loudly as she took my entire seven-inch cock into her mouth. She began slowly sucking on my cock. It was heavenly!

Another car drove by, and the excitement of possibly being seen combined with Gail's mouth on my cock pushed me over the edge. I came, and came. She didn't miss a stroke! Gail kept swallowing and sucking until I started to become soft. Then she stopped.

"Feel better, young man?" she asked with a grin as she got up and sat in her chair.

"Wow, Gail," I replied, "that was great!

"But we're sitting on the porch, you topless, and me with my cock hanging out."

"You're right, Greg," she said as she stood up and took my hand. "Let me introduce you to my bed."

She led me inside to her bedroom. She lit two candles, then, undressed me slowly, taking her time to kiss and caress my body. By the time she was finished, my cock was getting hard again. I returned the favor, slowly removing her jeans and panties, as I kissed and gently licked her nipples.

"You're beautiful, Gail," I told her.

"You're a liar, young man," she stated firmly as she kissed me.

"Now," she said quietly, breaking the kiss, "please lie to me again!"

We moved to the bed.

Chapter 5: Breakfast

I awoke to the smell of frying bacon and coffee. I got up and looked around the bedroom for my clothes. When I couldn't find them, and tentatively followed the aroma to the kitchen. Gail was at the stove. She was only wearing an apron. My cock rose up and pointed at her.