(A special thanks to Barney R for his wonderful editing)
Funnily enough, Brenda's death was to become the turning moment of his life. He returned home to find a letter waiting for him. The serial production guys had accepted his story and they wanted his continued association during the making of the serial so as to ensure that they got the feel of the story right. Don Riley would be his contact person at the serial house.
Brad stared at the six figure amount he was to receive the next day through electronic transfer into his bank account. It had been quite some time since he had seen that many zeroes on a payment to be made to him.
The next day he withdrew a princely sum from the amount transferred to his account and refurbished his wardrobe, after all he couldn't met Don dressed like a street side bum.
Don turned out to be one of those jovial types with a beer paunch and an ever smiling face, whatever the conditions may be. They hit it off instantly.
The serial production guys wanted to hear the story from him in person so that they could get the correct feel of it. They were surprised to learn that it was the story of his own life. But nevertheless they did get the feel of it as they saw the pain in his face when he recounted the story to them.
The serial was a hit. It was a real tear jerker and soon enough he began receiving calls from women who were dying to meet the guy who wrote the story.
And offers came along too. Word soon got around to other production houses that there was a new guy in town with some fresh stories in mind for a serial. He hadn't seen the colour of money for a long time and he began accepting story writing contracts as fast as they came.
===============================================
He also began bedding women as they came along. It did not matter if they were single, married or divorced. If they were willing and he fancied them and needed a release, well that's that. There was no love or chemistry involved, just a biological release.
The first was a married woman with two young kids and a big fan of his. She met him at the parking lot of his apartment block. She explained that she had been waiting across the street from his place since the last few hours. Brad checked her out as she continued to gush, her big round eyes idolising him.
He hadn't been with a woman for quite some time and he felt his manhood stir in appreciation of the fine piece of womanhood standing in such close proximity. And, and she looked so familiar, dark wavy hair, honey brown eyes ... He invited her over to his apartment where he promised to give her an autograph.
She left an hour and a half later, barely managing to walk properly with all her holes filled up with his cum. She also had the autograph he had promised ... on her bra cups. And he had her mobile number. She was his for the asking.
All she hinted at was that her husband should not come to know about them. She loved her husband and did not want to hurt him, but at the same time she and not he were the owner and keeper of her body.
He nodded in agreement as he punched in her number into the cell memory. He had heard a similar kind of logic before. With his need now being satisfied by an array of women, he wondered why he ever got married at all! She was nice in bed and he was sure he would be seeing her again as she wanted to tell him all about her life in the hope that he would turn it into a nice serial. Yes, her story was going to be long and so he would be seeing her quite a few times.
He blinked and looked at the wall clock. Almost five! He really had not done much work today. It had been one of those days when try as he may he really couldn't hold back the monster within him. He needed a woman! A married woman!
He began hunting down Trish's number. He needed some hard and dirty sex tonite and Trish was real dirty when it came to sex. She was a columnist in the local paper and married to a marketing executive who seemed to have his mobile sticking to his ear forever. And he travelled a lot too.
She had done his interview after he had become kinda famous locally. Then some time later she gave him her story. She wanted him to take it up. By now he had set up his own company and had a staff of almost dozen people.
But he still preferred to go thru the story himself before delegating it to one of his staff people with his input. That was when he was exposed to her slutty side. She invited him for dinner with herself and her husband at a posh restaurant. Brad accepted as he was beginning to like his new life style. She came dressed in a nice black dress that showed off her assets to their full advantage without giving a slutty look.
She was 5'8" with chestnut brown hair and blue eyes. The birth of two children had nicely filled up her body. Her husband had the typical harried pompous look of a company executive whose attention was on demand 24x7. He had his mobile close to his ear when they were introduced and it seemed to be stuck there most of the evening. As the dinner progressed her intentions soon became apparent to him.
While her husband continued to be hooked to his mobile, Trish began telling him about how she could run some more stories about him, as he was now quite famous. As she said that she placed her hand on his thigh and began to tease him, all along smiling sweetly at him, though her eyes had that a smoky look about them.
The fact that a woman wanted to cheat on her husband with him somehow appealed to him and he found his manhood responding to her ministrations. Her hand soon covered his hardening length. At times she would press his manhood and then just run her fingers up and down, all the time keeping her eyes on his face.
Brad acknowledged her overtures by placing his hand upon hers and keeping it pressed down on his lengthy shaft.
As promised, she ran a couple of stories on him in the weekend columns. He was projected as the new kid on the block with some amazing thoughts and emotions to share. And he in turn had her story circulated amongst the TV serial houses he syndicated for after the required value additions from his side.
And the sex between them was amazing. Trish loved sex. She also loved her husband and her family. But she needed that physical consummation with a man for which Mother Nature had made her on a regular and consistent basis. On her back, on her knees, or up her ass or on the backseat or the master bedroom she shared with her husband, Trish was game for everything.
Other than Rita, she was the only other person to whom he had given a key to his hotel room. A couple of times she had walked in unannounced and joined in the fun. And when she couldn't wait till the evening, she would drop in at his office. At times Brad wondered whether that's what his wife had also been doing before trading him up for good.
He heard a click and then Trish came on the line.
"Hi baby," she drawled out in that sexy Southern accent of hers.
"A little bird told my little fella that Alan Ferguson has just touched some new heights with that expansion into the African continent and is celebrating by throwing a bash somewhere in the Sahara desert. I was wondering whether Mrs Ferguson was also in the mood for some celebrations?" replied Brad, his eyes picturing her in the nude. He wanted to suck on her mama breasts.
"Oh my! That would be so nice sir. Going by my feedbacks, the celebrations involve a lot of calendar girls being flown in from different countries for serving exotic drinks to local politicians who had altered their countries by-laws in favour of hubby darling's company. Of course, keeping in tune to the Saharan night theme, they would be dressed up as harem girls in the flimsiest of see thru fabrics with nothing underneath," she replied back with mock seriousness.
"That would be great. I hope your husband wouldn't mind you getting late as the celebrations are gonna continue till the early hours?" he replied in a similar tone.
Somebody had rightly said somewhere that the partner of a cheating spouse is the last one to know, if at all he gets to know about it. It would do no harm if that cuckold were to have a DNA check done on his kids. She did say that she loved her hubby and family but then it was very rare for her to keep her thighs closed for long.
A loving wife she may be but she was also sucking off her editor during the lunch breaks and sleeping with the politicians, businessmen and government officials she interviewed and who caught her fancy. She was quite a popular journalist.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about him. He's busy making his next million for his family," she replied back in the same serious tone.
Brad left his office and drove over to his house. It was in one of the better suburbs and had three bedrooms, a front lawn and a patio at the back. He had had it fitted with all the modern furnishings that money could buy. After his years of abject, poverty stricken existence, he intended to live a full life, whatever it may mean to another.
One of the bedrooms had been converted into a gymnasium. The other was his daughter's room. She had never been here and neither had he spoken to her since the day she rushed away from him to ride back home in her new dad's limo, the look of disdain clearly written all over her face.
But she was his baby and would always remain so no matter what level of brain washing she was being subjected to by her mother and new father.
There was a huge floor to ceiling picture of him and his daughter. It had been taken at Disneyland when things had been much different at home. Her favourite teddy bear and dolls were neatly placed on her bed. The rest of her belongings sat around the room including the wooden rocking horse. Even the wardrobe held some of her clothes.
Nancy hadn't bothered to take most of the stuff. During their last year or so they really hadn't gone in for much of purchases as money was short in coming. They had tried to continue with the existing things. Now of course she wouldn't be needing them. But they were all here, neatly pressed and placed.
Brad spent some quiet moments in his daughter's bedroom. He always did that. Somehow it made him feel better. Sometimes he almost felt her there in the room, beside him or on the rocking horse.
It was a ritual that he never failed to complete. For some long moments he kept staring at the picture, imagining her, thinking of the happy moments they had spent together as father and daughter. Then he got up and moved to his bedroom. It had wall to wall carpeting and the furniture showed off the wealth he had.
But he was lonely. The pain just wouldn't go away, even after bedding so many women whose faces he couldn't recall let alone their names. He threw some fresh clothes on the king sized double bed. No one had shared the bed with him. No one. He had enjoyed all his women in the hotel room that he kept permanently reserved in the name of one of his employees. The mere thought of bringing a lady friend to his home made him sick at heart.
In his mind he imagined Nancy seductively lying on the bed, waiting for him, enjoying the wealth he had amassed. No, she was being enjoyed by Harold, he was her provider and keeper.
The monster within him began emerging from the dark shadows it had laid hidden in. His eyes which had just shown love and compassion in his daughter's room turned cold and vicious. His breathing came faster.
He looked at his watch. Yes, he would fuck that marketing executive's wife tonight while her cuckold ceaselessly toiled to make her more comfortable. His erection was now evident. He quickly put on some fresh clothes and moved out for the hotel room where another man's wife laid waiting for him with her legs wide open.
