This story is about a manipulative cheating bitch. If that disturbs you, don't read it. If you do read it don't comment that it's about a manipulative cheating bitch -- I already told you that!
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Like many little girls I dreamed of a loving husband and family when I grew up. Unfortunately that didn't quite work out for me. While I love my two kids, ages 7 and 9 at the start of this narrative, I no longer have a loving relationship with my husband, Bradley (never "Brad," too plebian for him).
While shortly after we married Bradley was exposed as much haughtier and entitled than he revealed while we were dating and engaged, things started to really go awry when I got pregnant with Cici, my now nine year old.
While Bradley very much wanted children he didn't like me pregnant. While I admit that with Cici I wasn't a particularly comely preggo -- like Emily Ratajkowski who appeared on the cover of Vogue magazine seven months pregnant and looked as ravishing as the first rose of Spring -- I didn't think that I was gross. Bradley had other ideas and got a disgusted look on his face once I really started to show, and I overhear him telling two of his friends that he'd lost all sexual interest in me.
That comment not only pissed me off, but was contraindicated by the response I got from other men. I swear that guys at work who never before gave me the time of day surreptitiously ogled me, and I got positive comments and looks from random guys all of the time whether grocery shopping, at the mall, or just sitting on a park bench. "You have a great pregnancy glow," was the most common remark.
Doing research using my "bible" (for those of you with testicles I guess I need to clarify; my bible is Cosmopolitan Magazine) more than 70% of heterosexual American men find women in their 7th month of pregnancy especially attractive, and for those that had a younger sibling that was nursed by their mother (especially a younger brother) almost all have a pregnancy fetish.
I -- sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Ruth Richards, nee Conklin -- finally had to lay it on the line for Bradley. Either treat me like he thought that I was attractive or become a part time Dad when the kid was delivered. He was a decent actor after that.
When I got pregnant with my son Jeremy (no "Bradley Richards III" for me -- which really pissed my husband and father-in-law off, but endeared me to my mother-in-law) for some reason my pregnancy was easier and I didn't gain any weight that wasn't directly necessary for carrying a healthy baby and I almost thought that I could pose for Vogue myself when I was seven months pregnant. It was actually so ridiculous how much I got hit on, or obviously ogled, that I thought that I must be mistaken for Emily Ratajkowski, which caused a different and even worse reaction from Bradley. His jealousy was almost clinical, and he blamed me.
While there was a period after Jeremy was born when things were pretty good -- especially since I got back to my pre-pregnancy weight of 131 pounds (60 kg) which looked pretty good on my 5 foot 9 inch tall (175 cm) body -- once Jeremy really started to be fun to play with things got worse.
My major complaints at the start of this story when my kids were 9 and 7 were numerous. 1) Bradley was becoming more and more a control freak, wanting to dictate all aspects of my life, and the kids' lives. I'm not built that way so there was a lot of controversy and arguments. 2) Bradley treated our son Jeremy much better and less strictly than he did our daughter Cici. I guess he learned that from his father, who always treated him better than his sister. That caused more controversy, arguments -- and angst. 3) He didn't help much around the house even though I had a thirty five hour a week job and he rarely worked more than forty hours. 4) He became much more interested in his own pleasure when we had sex, and less in mine. 5) He made snide comments about my looks and everything that I did despite the fact that everyone that I knew (except for Bradley's father) said that I never looked better, and my kids were happy and well-adjusted.
All of these factors contributed to me starting to intensely resent Bradley. I first tried to get past my resentment by getting a home gym and a gym membership so that I worked out whenever the kids went to bed or were out of the house; I got into the best shape of my life. That worked only so well, however, and was resented by Bradley because he definitely was NOT in the best shape of his life. I knew that I needed to change something else in my life before our relationship ended in divorce -- which would not be good for the kids. I came from a broken home and my siblings and I hated it; and considering my and Bradley's personalities a broken home wouldn't be any better for my kids than mine was for me. While some couples can successfully pull off a divorce without adversely affecting the kids, I knew that we couldn't.
Then came Bradley's company's New Year's Eve party.
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About the beginning of July before the fateful New Year's Eve party Bradley regularly came home with complaints about his office. While bitching about work wasn't new for Bradley it went to a higher level mostly because of a new employee at Express Action Inc. (known as EAI in the trade), the 600+ employee publicly traded corporation that Bradley worked for. His expressed annoyance the night of July 23 was typical.
"Ruth, I just can't get over how upper management is pampering this new manager at work; he's simply an ass-kissing no-nothing but he's being treated like the second coming," he huffed.
"What's his name?"
"Kendrick Colton, although everyone calls him 'Ken,' like he is their best friend in High School, or Barbie's soulmate," Bradley snarled.
"Is he competitive with you?"
"Not directly, but you know that advancement and bonuses at EAI seem to be determined on the basis of a curve, like in High School geometry, and if he is perceived to be much better than I am it could adversely affect how my performance bonuses are determined, and if I get to be a vice president."
"Does he try to show everybody else up?"
"He pretends like he doesn't and even goes out of the way to try to be friendly to other managers, but I know that it's just an act. I know that he's a fucking backstabber!"
"How do you know that, Bradley -- has he done anything overt so far?"
"I just know; he's too scheming to be overt, but I know he's up to no good," he snarled.
He kept up his ranting for another five minutes, but by that time I had just tuned him out and simply said "Uh huh," where appropriate just to let him think that I was listening and agreeing with him.
As the year progressed Bradley's antagonistic attitude toward Ken got worse and worse. He often indicated how he hated Ken, especially when he perceived that Ken's end of the year bonus exceeded his (since bonus ad salary information is confidential it was only perception on Bradley's part).
I looked nice for the New Year's Eve party, even if I say so myself, in a slinky blue backless dress with silts on the sides almost to my panty line. I convinced myself that I looked more like 25 than my real age of 35. In fact Bradley even commented on it -- and him giving me positive feedback about my appearance or anything else was as rare as Ricard Petty driving the speed limit.
I was actually having a decent time at the party -- better than I usually have. I knew some of the wives of managers and married men working directly for Bradley, and got along well with them. When talking to Madeline, the wife of one of the other managers, her eyes suddenly got wide and in the voice of a schoolgirl she said "There he is!"
"There's who?" I inquired quite amused by her reaction.
"That's Ken Colton," she said, pointing to a guy about six feet two inches tall (188 cm) with a trim athletic build. My first impression was "Bradley is jealous of him because he's good-looking," and considering how much he smiled and how others around him also smiled my second impression was "and Bradley is also jealous because he's friendly and people like him."
Without another word Madeline left me and made a bee line over to Ken, worming her way into his conversation. I had to chuckle to myself. Observing the people around Ken and Madeline some more I noticed a woman who was quite striking looking standing next to Ken but with the sternest aura that I have ever seen in my life, looking more like an ice sculpture of a Scandinavian woman that a real person. "Could that be his wife?" I asked myself.
Now I was no longer just enjoying the party; I had a mission.
I sometimes have heightened powers of observancy; I did that night.
The first thing that I noticed was that virtually all upper management approached Ken -- he didn't approach them -- with smiles on their faces and chatted with him for short periods of time. While this was going on Bradley was approaching upper management types -- they weren't approaching him. This made it clear that Bradley was the brown-nosing ass-kisser, not Ken.
I confirmed from Madeline that the sardonic-looking woman was Greta, Ken's wife. In the time that I observed her I didn't see her smile once, and she seemed to be both bored and nasty, even spurning Ken's attempts to cheer her up.
The more I observed Ken, the more I liked his looks. I made a decision right then -- to seduce him. I figured that it would be enjoyable physically but even more enjoyable emotionally. I would get an ultimate one-up on Bradley that could allow me to suffer along with him so that the kids would not come from a broken home -- until they were college age.
As Ken was approaching the open bar I bumped into him. Being the gentleman that I had already observed that he was from his interactions with others he said "I'm so sorry, clumsy of me; are you all right?"
"I'm the one who should apologize," I said with my most endearing smile, "I wasn't watching where I was going and initiated the contact. Let me make it up to you by buying you a drink," I continued with my smile morphing from endearing to humorous.
"It's an open bar," he laughed. He had a very nice laugh.
"Then let me order for you," I chuckled.
"OK, I'd like a club soda and red wine for my wife," he said as he and I both approached the bar.
"A red wine, a white wine, and a club soda," I smiled at the very young-looking female bartender. She smiled back and efficiently made the drinks while Ken and I lightly chatted about the event.
I gave the bartender a $5 tip and handed Ken his drinks while I took a sip of mine. "So you only drink club soda?" I inquired.
"Yeah -- I don't drink alcohol so I guess that according to W C Fields you shouldn't trust me," he smiled.
I was surprised that someone in modern times knew about W C Fields; I had liked his old black and white movies as a kid, especially "If I Had a Million." As Ken took some sips of his club soda I asked "Did you hear what W C Fields said when a leader from the Women's Christian Temperance Union asked him why instead of drinking alcohol he didn't just drink water?"
"No I haven't," Ken replied as he took another sip.
