Shattered 11

The cries of two people in the throes of passion served as the harmony, while the sound of wet flesh slapping against flesh provided the frantic rhythm. The musky scent of sex and sweat lingered in the air. The woman straddled her legs across the muscular man's waist, riding the large phallus. His cock glistened with her juices in the ambient lighting as it plunged deeper insider her. She leaned forward, placing her hands upon his shoulders so that she could support herself while impaling herself on the man's cock willingly. His big, strong hands held her by the hips so as to offer added support. Her large breasts swung like pendulum, which he tried to capture with his mouth.

Breathlessly, the woman cried out, "My god, I never knew sex could be like this!" She whimpered out a moan of pleasure, "I've wasted twenty years of my life! Your cock is so big!" Her voice went up an octave with that last word. Her fingers dug into the man's shoulders as her body trembled and quivered, experiencing an orgasm -- maybe for the first time or at least, the first time this night. Given that neither one showed any signs of hesitation or slowing down, it was very possible that this was a first of many things to come.

"Your pussy is so tight. It's like you're a virgin! Are you sure you had sex before meeting me?" retorted the man while thrusting upward with his cock.

The added thrusting caused her eyes to roll back into her head, making it quite different for her to form any coherent thought. She simply answered the question with a guttural groan of ecstasy.

*****

His cry broke the silence of the dark, lonely room. The white cotton sheet, soaked with sweat, clung to his body as he jerked himself awake. The nightmares have gotten worse. His insecurities have been wrecking havoc on his memories, altering the witnessed event with visions and dialogue fueling his self-doubts and bruised male ego. Covering his eyes with his hands, Steve tried to catch his breath and regain a sense of his surroundings. As reality set in, the hope of his wife's infidelity being a horrible nightmare faded away, no matter how hard he tried to gouge out his eyes.

Why?

The first of many questions flooded his thoughts as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Was I not man enough for her? Did I not satisfy her in bed? Did she need the attention of another man, a better man? Why would she throw away twenty years of marriage for a fling? Did she no longer love me? Has she fallen in love with someone else? Was it something that I did? Was it something that I said? Was it just one very bad thing, or a culmination of many little things? What did I do that was so wrong that it would make her rush into the arms of another man?

Unfortunately for Steve, the quiet of the hotel room did not provide any answers and offered very little solace.

The relentless buzzing of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. He swore he turned the damned thing off; however, he must have set it for vibrate.

Another thing that I can't do right,

he told himself while fighting back feelings of dread. He was not ready to talk to her. The problem with asking questions was that there were going to be answers. He was not sure if he was ready to hear those answers. Dread consumed him as his heart sank into his stomach. At that moment, he regretted eating Mexican for dinner as his stomach churned. With trepidation, Steve rolled out of bed to spy the caller ID on his phone. The lesser of two evils reared its ugly head as the phone number for the hospital, where worked was displayed.

"It's 3 o'clock in the morning. The sky better be falling," answered Steve without any regard to who was on the other end.

"Hey bud, I'm sorry to be waking you up this early in the morning, but the central switch crashed. The entire hospital is down, and the ER has a head trauma patient getting a cat scan. With the switch down, we can't send images across the Internet," explained Eric, one of Steve's sub-ordinates.

Steve immediately shot out of bed in an effort to get dressed quickly as he responded, "All right. The PACS system is on its own segmented network. Go ahead and route the firewall to the PACS router, bypassing the central switch. This should allow the rad tech to send the images to our night radiology group. The rest of the hospital will have to go to paper until we can get the switch back up and going. Tell the night supervisor that I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Good call! I didn't even think of that," Eric replied with a sound of relief.

Unfortunately for Steve, life did not stop for a broken heart. He was needed at the hospital regardless of his state of mind.

*****

Steve was born and raised in a Catholic family. His parents insisted on him going to a private school for his education. Unfortunately, in rural America, the class sizes for a private Catholic school were relatively small. Even worse, the same students were in the same classes together unless someone flunked a grade or moved away. This meant that a social faux pas would brand a kid for life, or at least twelve years of primary and secondary education. For Steve, he was labeled as a nerd early on. There could be several different reasons for how Steve got branded as this social pariah. It could be the fact that math came easy to him, and he did not have to try very hard in school at all. Or it could be the fact that unlike most of the students, he did not belong to a rich family. His clothes were common and certainly not name brand.

Or, it could have been when he had a horrible crush on the most popular girl in school. In an attempt to win her affection, Steve wrote a love poem. It was from the heart, but having never read Cyrano de Bergerac in grade school, his words fell short. The poem was passed around his entire class so that they could share in his humiliation. He became the laughing stock of his fifth grade class. Needless to say, his confidence in approaching girls was shattered. Having to endure the same group of students for the next seven years, Steve accepted his role as a nerd and a social outcast. He delved into this new technology called computers, learning all he could. One of the first things he learned was that a mistake could be easily fixed or corrected, unlike matters of the heart and social interaction with girls.

Obviously, Steve looked forward to graduating high school and moving on to college. A new set of friends and the ability to escape twelve years of Hell was just the tip of the iceberg. Having graduated with honors, Steve intended to go to the best college for computer science. He would get his degree and then find employment with a huge software company.

That was until life decided to step in. While on a retreat for high school seniors held by his church, Steve met Jill. The awkward and socially inept boy and the gangly and homely girl fumbled their way through their first date. For Steve, the fact that any girl showed an interest in him was exciting and made his heart race. For Jill, it was the first time that a boy didn't try to feel her up or compare her to the popular girls in school. More importantly, they both enjoyed the other person's personality. They found it easy to communicate on a personal level. It wasn't long before the two fell in love.

And it wasn't too much longer after that, that the two awkward teenagers fumbled their way through making love. Although they were Catholic, society placed too much pressure on them to not remain celibate. Raging hormones also played a major role in their attempt to express their undying love for one another. Unfortunately, their desire to pick and choose which laws or commandments that they wanted to follow did not supersede the laws of nature. Jill became pregnant a few short months after their retreat.

For whatever reason, adhering to their Catholic upbringing was paramount this time around. Rather than abort the child, the two decided to become a family. Steve's plans for going on to college were dashed into smithereens from the wink of a pretty girl's eye. Instead, he opted to work at an electronics store, serving as one of their computer technicians. In his spare time, he attended classes at the local community college with the hopes of obtaining an Associate's degree in computer information systems. Steve accepted his new role of being a provider for his family and his fate without hesitation or putting up a fight. It was expected of him to take accountability for his actions. His dreams, his ambitions, and his goals fell to the wayside, so that he could be a husband and a father.

*****

The music blaring from the worn out speakers competed with the growling hum of the car's engine that was pushing two hundred thousand miles. Typically, Steve kept the volume up to drown out the fact that he was driving a used car that was in dire need of a tune up and a new muffler; however, it was decided long ago that Jill would get the better car because of family priorities. The beat up car served its purpose well of getting from Point A to Point B with as little fuel consumption as possible. For Steve, the car was like an old tee shirt that has a paint stain here or a bleach stain there, but it fit just right. There was comfort to be found in the car. Steve knew the limitations of the car, and never pushed the car beyond those limits. The driver's seat or the mirrors never had to be adjusted. Everything was where it was supposed to be.

The radio gods had other plans. Regardless of what station, the night deejay opted to play love songs. The only relief from the love songs was the commercials; however, they catered to lonely singles looking for an exciting adventure and suggested that they stay in tonight and call their party line. It was as if the sultry feminine voice taunted and tormented Steve. In frustration, Steve slammed the power button of the radio so that he could rid himself of the agony. Steve was outnumbered, though. In the silence of his car, his thoughts resumed full force.

Why didn't you do something?

Steve berated himself.

You just stood there and watched that man run his hands all over your wife's naked body! You're a wimp! You're a wuss! You could have done something, but no! You simply walked away. You didn't even put up a fight!

Steve always shied away from confrontation. He was not some covert operations specialist, or an Army Ranger. He certainly was not an ultimate fighter champion, though in his younger years, he may have played one or two in video games. Steve was an inch or two over six feet tall and weighed over two hundred and thirty pounds. Most of that weight, circling around his waistline, was acquired from years of sticking to his fast food diet. Hitting the gym was not in Steve's vocabulary. The most strenuous thing that Steve participated in was golf, if you call hitting the ball into the wrong fairway as playing golf.

Steve rebutted his own thoughts.

You saw the guy's arms. They were twice my size. He'd probably snap me in half. I'm already humiliated by the fact that he's giving my wife more pleasure than I ever have. To get my ass handed to me on a silver platter would only make my humiliation worse. Besides, at that point, what's the point of even fighting? She's already in his arms. Do you really want to endure physical pain along with a broken heart?

As luck would have it, Steve paid more attention to his thoughts than the traffic lights, especially the red light that he drove through without any hint of slowing down. He never would have known he had done such a thing, if it were not for the flashing red and blue lights in his rear view mirror. In a bout with frustration, Steve slammed his forehead against his steering wheel a couple of times. He peered towards the ceiling of his car as if he can see into the heavens.

Are you done? I don't know what I did to piss you off, but I'll be more than happy to recite fifty Hail Marys and fifty Our Fathers if you stop it from getting any worse.

It got worse.

*****

It was not unusual to experience sudden thundershowers during the month of April. While the farmlands and the gardens of pretentious neighbors appreciated the rain, stranded motorists with flat tires typically did not. Even more so, should the motorist's cell phone have a dead battery and does not own a car charger. To compound the issue, the motorist in question decided to wear a fashionable cotton summer dress due to the unseasonably warmer temperatures. Although she was able to pull the mini-van off to the shoulder of the busy thoroughfare, any attempt to get out and examine the situation required getting completely drenched from the downpour and from the spray of on-coming cars.

Time treated Jill quite well. No longer was she the homely teenager trying to get comfortable with her body. Being a late bloomer coupled with the baby fat obtained during pregnancy, Jill developed feminine curves that made men of all ages turn their heads. With the hope of retaining her youth, the middle-aged housewife colored her honey golden hair to hide those pesky grey strands that never seemed to go away. Make-up and creams were in constant demand so that the mother of two could hide the crow's feet and the laugh lines that come with age. By all classification standards, Jill was your standard MILF.

Fortunately for the despondent woman, one of the local patrolmen drove past and made every effort to turn around to offer aid. For Officer Jim Rickman, he always made every effort to provide assistance to damsels in distress with the hopes of them showing him some level of gratitude. There was very little crime in the one horse town, so Officer Rickman spent most of his time pulling over drivers caught speeding. For good looking women, flirting was all it took to get out of the speeding ticket. The six foot two, two hundred twenty pound muscle bound womanizer spent most of his off duty hours working out at the local gym, hitting the weights or trolling outside the Pilates class like a vulture.

Rather than call a tow truck, Officer Rickman changed out the tire for the helpless housewife. He even offered to follow her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Having been taught to show hospitality and gratitude, Jill welcomed the policeman into her home so that he could get a towel to dry off and have a cup of hot tea as a token of her appreciation and gratitude for his help. The invitation allowed Officer Rickman to leer at Jill, imagining the purring sounds that she made before, during and after having sex.

Over tea, the two were able to catch up and reminisce about the old times. Officer Rickman was the younger brother of Eddie Rickman. As a teenager, Jill fantasized about Eddie falling in love with her, sweeping her off her feet, and whisking her away to a romantic getaway or at least to lover's lane. Officer Rickman, or as Jill called him "Little Jimmy", explained that his older brother was laid off work since the local factory is shutting its doors and relocating to Mexico. Jill silently thanked God for not answering her numerous prayers back then.

Leaving behind another stressful day at work, Steve looked forward to getting home to his wife and relaxing for the evening. The need to relax dissipated, though, as he noticed the police car parked in his drive way. Unable to pull his car into the garage, he parked his car on the street and quickly ran into the house to see if everything was all right.

"Honey, this is Little Jimmy. You remember Eddie's little brother, don't you?" inquired his lovely wife.

Showing his alpha male tendencies, Officer Rickman corrected Jill, "I'm not so little now." A flex of his muscles emphasized his meaning. When he finally recognized Steve, he guffawed. He turned his attention away from the concerned husband and said to Jill, "You married Rooster? Are you kidding me?"

Jill could not help but emit a tiny giggle, "Oh! I completely forgot about that nickname!"

Rolling his eyes, Steve looked past the police man and asked his wife, "Are you ok? Did you get hurt? Did something happen?"

Jill waved her hand dismissively, "It's nothing, hon-"

"I protected her from harm, and got her home safe and sound. You don't need to worry about her, but you may want to check the air pressure in her tires next time. I can't believe you let her drive on balding tires that could use a few pounds of air," interrupted the officer in a condescending tone.

Steve tried to rebut the condescending tone, but Jill stepped in. "Jimmy changed the tire on my mini-van and made sure I got home safe. I invited him in for a cup of tea to show my thanks."

The predatory look upon Officer Rickman's face spoke volumes. It was clear that Officer Rickman had different ideas on how Jill could give him a proper thanking. "I should get back to my patrols. If you need anything else, Jill-Billy, you let me know," said Jim Rickman. He then peered down his nose to Steve, "See ya, Rooster."

Remembering the nickname that was used to tease her about having a flat chest and living out in the country, Jill laughed with mirth, "Oh my! It's been forever since anyone called me that." She straightened her back so that she could showcase her large breasts. She basked in pride with the look she received from the younger man. "There's no mistaking me for a boy now, is there?"

Steve finally spoke up and exerted himself by escorting Jim to the door, "Good bye, Jimmy."

*****

The silence deafened the interior of Steve's car, which only intensified the feeling of dread as he watched the police officer slowly take his time in approaching the car. Steve did not have to look in the rear view mirror to know who it was that would be tapping on his window. Fate already determined the worst case scenario for him and deemed it necessary to inflict it upon him. Wanting to get through this as quickly as possible, Steve prepared his license and registration as the inevitable knocked.

"Where's the fire, chief?" questioned the arrogant, familiar voice.

I hope you're laughing your ass off.

Steve stared up to the ceiling before offering up his license and registration, "Jimmy, the hospital's network is down. I don't have time to be fucking around."

Officer Rickman shook his head with a condescending glance. "Rooster, that doesn't exclude you from obeying the traffic laws of this fine city. Do you even know why I pulled you over?"

Because you're an asshole who gets off on being such a prick?

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, "I have no clue. For speeding, I guess?"

"Whoa, what's up with the attitude, Rooster? You just need to cool your jets. I'm trying to help you, so you don't kill someone tonight. We already had one accident tonight just outside of town. Some slut was giving a guy a blow job while he was driving, and they swerved right off the road." Officer Rickman chuckled at the thought. He, then, returned to the conversation at hand, "I was on my way to Denny's to find out more of the details when you blew right through that stop light. You do know that red means stop, right?"

"Whatever. Just write me the ticket. Otherwise, they need me at the hospital," retorted Steve.

What does she even see in guys like you? Besides the six pack abs, biceps as big as Texas, and the perfectly coifed hair, that is. I bet if I lived in the gym, I'd look like that. Well, maybe not the hair, but I could have rock hard abs. Fine, if that's the kind of guy she's going to drool over, I can do that. Starting tomorrow, I'll get a membership at the gym and start working out. I'll be just like Dick for Brains here.

Officer Rickman shook his head, again, in disgust, "Rooster, you're not winning yourself any favors here. I was going to cut you some slack and let you off with a warning, but not anymore."