It took me a while, but I've finally discovered what's wrong with women. Men; no doubt about it, men are the problem.
As I sit here in this bus stop shelter, smelling the leftover piss, from the derelicts that sleep here when no one is around, I can see all of my mistakes, and they're crystal clear in the rear view mirror of my mind.
I've got about an hour, so I can tell you about this chunk of my life. My life isn't exactly going the way I'd hoped. In fact right now it's an absolute disaster. I've been forced to take a long hard look at the way I live and treat people. But I'm still relatively young, so I can come back from this.
My biggest mistake was in believing that men would do the right thing. Neither of the men involved in my story did the right thing. Truthfully my idea of the right thing, is whatever is best for me, but I guess neither of them realized that.
My other mistake was in believing that other women would also act according to the rules and principles that I think keeps life organized. The other woman in the story was not supposed to just swoop in and grab my toys before I was done playing with them.
So now I find myself taking this embarrassing bus ride back to my parent's house to try and rebuild my life in the hick town that I was so eager to escape from. I'm sure those small town tongues will be wagging when I get there. It will definitely not be the triumphant return that I expected, but it's not all my fault.
I'm a victim of conditioning. People are supposed to act a certain way around me, and when they don't I guess I don't make good decisions.
Men have always told me the same stuff since I was a little girl. "Oh Kathy, you're beautiful; I'd do anything for you."
They call me Kathy because that's my name. I'm an apple in a world of pears and that makes me stand out. Being an apple means that my tits are bigger than my ass. Don't kid yourself, look around there's lots of pears out there but not too many apples.
Anyway my long naturally straight blonde hair and crystal clear blue eyes don't hurt me much either. My daddy always said that I was destined to do great things and be a success in life.
Throughout my life thus far there has only been one boy for me Raphe Jenkins. He was the cutest boy in my school, and therefore in town. I latched onto him in the first grade and just never let go. He wasn't as driven as I was, but he always played his part. When we got to high-school and I became a cheerleader, he had to get on the football team, or lose me. He didn't like football much, so I had to motivate him to excel. He was a running back so I'd just tell him that when he got the ball that I'd stand under the goal-posts, and anybody that stopped him from reaching me could take me out on a date. That lit a fire under him, because Raphe loved me, and he hated sharing. By our senior year, Raphe had more touchdowns than any other player in the school's history. He probably could've gone to college on a football scholarship, but that wasn't in my plans.
Right out of high-school, we got married and moved to California. Raphe was a very good carpenter, and he got a lot of jobs around the city, so he could put me through college. While there I got my associates degree in business, and started working at the bank to gain experience. The first experience I gained was the fact that some of the people who worked in the bank, spent more money in a week on lunch than we spent on rent. They wore beautiful clothes, and drove expensive cars instead of pickup trucks. In short, they were living the life that I wanted. I'd spent a lot of time in school cultivating the correct image and losing my southern accent, now was the time for me to make my mark.
I started having Raphe drop me off, a block away from the bank in the morning, and pick me up a block away as well. That way no one would ever see me getting out of his old truck. Raphe was a good guy and I loved him in my own way, but there was no way I wanted anyone to see me in that truck.
One of the officers at the bank took a liking to me, and started helping me to develop into the person I wanted to be. I in turn helped him with a little problem he had whenever he was around me. It wasn't that big of a problem; his dick just seemed to stand straight up whenever I was around. Like I said it wasn't that big a problem since it was only about 4 inches long. I hardly even felt it when we had sex so I didn't really think of it, as cheating. I knew that Raphe wouldn't see it that way so I was careful that he never found out.
Anyway he started introducing me to the right kinds of people, and finally introduced me to Smith Benson. Was that classy or what, the man has 2 last names. Even his first name is a last name. Anyway Smith (that's his first name) fell for me in a big way. He was an account executive for an entertainment representation firm. They handled all kinds of stars and athletes in a number of fields. I didn't care which field it was as long as there weren't any crops growing in it. Smith drove a Silver BMW. It was the most beautiful car I'd ever seen. He got me a job as his assistant, no more days as a bank teller for me.
From the very start I knew that Smith was interested in me, after all he was a man. I watched his progress trying to get into my pants and realized that as rich and powerful as he was, or as I thought he was, that I had power over him. For the first few weeks, I kept everything above board and business like. But I had to be careful too, because if I made him wait too long, he'd replace me with someone who would give him what he wanted. I intended to give it to him too; I just wanted something in return.
He took me to lunch in a different fancy restaurant every day. He got my hair done, and even started to buy me clothes and things. I explained to Raphe, that Smith was just trying to make sure that my clothes and manners didn't call adverse attention to me, in the company we were keeping at work. Raphe, the jealous little boy that he was, had threatened to bust Smith's ass, if he so much as laid a finger on me.
I think he followed us a couple of times as we went to lunch so I had to do something to get him off of our track. Raphe still didn't like the thought of sharing me with anybody else, go figure.
Smith and I had one of his mysterious clients coming in, she was an artist from France, and had a big following all over the world. She was coming to the United States for the 1st time for a show. She was going to be here for a month before the show to finalize her new pieces. This presented an opportunity for us, I told Smith.
"What's on your mind Kathleen?" he asked.
"Where is Amanda staying when she gets here?" I asked him in return.
"We have an apartment/studio rented for her," he replied.
"Do you have any carpentry work that needs to be done there?" I asked again.
"Well there are a few things that could be done, why?" he asked.
"Because, if you hired my husband to do it, we'd know exactly where he was, and when, so we'd be able to be together without worrying about him finding us, and busting your ass."
So Smith called Raphe and had him come over for a meeting 2 days later. They worked out all of the details, and Smith gave Raphe the keys, and they shook hands as Raphe left.