When We Were Married

Chapter 05C

YOU KNOW I'M SUCH A FOOL FOR YOU!

My name is William Maitland. Six months ago I was married. Today I am single.

Six months ago I was in love with a woman I thought loved me. Today I know she doesn't love me. Today I have feelings for a French woman that loves another man. Even though she may love me a little bit.

I don't know if that counts as progress in my personal life.

Six months ago I was the lead prosecutor or managing prosecutor of the State Attorney's Office in Jacksonville. People in the Courthouse knew me and I think thought well of me professionally.

Today, after a near breakdown for a number of reasons I don't need to go into here, I have been dubbed "The Angel of Death" and, through the virtue of the Internet and Internet web sites, apparently I've become a famous figure.

After I convicted the Killer Granny in a high stakes murder prosecution I have become even more famous and apparently cause callow defense attorneys to piss in their pants when I glare at them.

Of course it's all bullshit. If there's anyone less inclined to use publicity to advance themselves anywhere in the civilized world than myself, I don't know who it would be.

I don't want to endorse cereals, or run for higher office, and start a second career in Hollywood. I just want to do what I do, what I'm good at, why I'm here, which is to put bad people behind bars and keep them from hurting any more innocents.

And since I don't want anything more than what I had professionally, I'm not sure if that counts as progress in my professional life.

Six months ago I had a 17-year-old beautiful daughter that looked at me with a combination of bemused daughterly affection and contempt, while my 14-year-old son tried not to think about me much but basically looked at me as the nothing that put a damper on his personal life.

Today the bonds aren't completely restored, but they know that I loved them and I still do after years of neglecting them for my job.

Six months ago I got an occasional lay from my gorgeous blonde wife Debbie. But I couldn't really blame her for not pulling me down into her bed all that often.

I was flabby, fat, balding, and I'd let her treat me like that for years. I know from my professional life that people treat you the way you let them, and I never let anybody in my professional life treat me the way Debbie treated me in our personal life, or the bedroom.

But I loved her and I knew I was a disappointment and that I could never really be good enough for her in bed and I made myself grateful for the crumbs she threw my way because even crumbs are better than nothing.

Today I have fucked a cute little dimpled darling that used to work for me in the State Attorney's office, fucked the shit out of a hot grandmother of a vice cop -- in an empty State Attorney's office of all places -- and made mad, passionate hot sex/love to a beautiful French woman who is married to a man who'd been a friend.

Sexually I've come a long way in six months, but until my Frenchwoman Aline came back to me two days ago, I wouldn't have said my sex life has improved by leaps and bounds.

Because I realized with a sharp pain to the cavity where my heart used to be at, even crumbs from Debbie meant more than hot sex with Dimples or my hot Granny Cop.

But Aline was different. I thought I'd lost a woman I'd never really had, and tried to live with two defeats in the realm of romance until SHE walked back into my life....

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WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 31, 2005 -- 9:15 p.m.

We walked along the shore line with our shoes and socks in our hands. A light blanket I'd taken from my car was draped over my shoulder.

Even in late August, the ghostly foam carried by the incoming waves was cold as hell on my flesh. I shivered. Aline just laughed at me. I knew that French beachgoers were tough, dashing into water that would have sent Americans into cardiac arrest. We held hands like teenagers.

"I haven't done this since I was a teen," she told me.

"You're kidding me? All the islands and tropical paradises you visit and you've never strolled through the surf?"

"I've gone swimming, but walking like this....holding hands...it's something you do with a boyfriend...or a husband...."

"There's something very sad about that, Aline. You travel the world to the most romanatic islands and cities, and you don't have anyone to share it with. Philippe has never traveled with you?"

"In the early years, he'd come in for a few days, sometimes a week. But as he progressed in his career, the demands just grew too great And then there wasn't any more free time. Even when I'm home, we have to work for time together, and that usually centers around Andre."

"Something about that sounds familiar, very familiar. But...I can see why you'd have fallen in love with him. He was..is a very dynamic guy. Besides all the tallness, good looking, superficial stuff. I imagine for a woman, he'd be a very appealing guy."

She leaned into me and I caught my balance as a bigger wave splashed us up to the knees. I could hear sea birds in the distance, and other bird calls on the shore side.. On the other side of the inlet, on the far side of the A1A bridge that bisected the inlet, was a federally protected bird preserve where a number of migrating species had protected nests.

"He was...is...you worked with him. You saw how -- women react to him. He doesn't have to work at it. They just...respond to him. And I guess I did too. But that isn't why I fell in love with him, at first sight.

"You know how clichéd that sounds, and we French don't really put much stock in that. We are much harder-headed about relationships than you Americans, despite the stereotypes. But, there's no other way to describe it. And....it happened again when I saw you.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, either time."

She turned into me and I stopped and held her to keep the waves around our knees from throwing us into the surf. She took my hand and placed it over her right breast and I felt the nipple harden.

. "There wouldn't be a problem, Ma chérie, if we were just -- as you Americans say -- fuck buddies...friends with benefits....I could stay here for two weeks and fuck that lovely hard cock of yours and suck it and give you myself and pull myself together in two weeks and go home to Philippe. I told you I have had lovers before on the Bonne Chance, and it didn't bother me that much to go home to Philippe afterwards."

"But we are fuck buddies," I said squeezing the nipple hard between my fingers and making her moan softly.

She grabbed me by the chin with her right hand and stared into my eyes.

"Don't ever say that, Bill. Don't ever! I don't know what we are...and it scares me...but I know what we aren't....fuck buddies...friends with benefits."

She melted into me and I remembered old time movies about lovers on beaches. This felt like something from a tragic romance. All it needed was a musical score, but there was only the sounds of birds in the night nesting and a few far off cars against the wind blowing in off the ocean.

"We are lovers," she said finally.

"I know. And that's why you're going to rip my heart out again when you leave. And you will leave. No matter what you say, no matter how much we try not to think about it, you'll go home. And I'll stay here."

She buried her face against the side of my neck.

"Don't say that."

"I won't say it again, Aline. Not another time. But I want you to know I did this willingly. I could have sent you off yesterday. I know I should have. But I didn't. The fault is mine. And all the hurt that's going to be left when you're gone, that's on me too.

I held her so tightly I could feel her heart beating in her chest.

"When you leave and fly home to Philippe, I don't want you to look back or regret a moment of our time together. I'm doing this because I realized that you are special. I'm feeling old and jaded and that my life is pretty much over, but I know there will be other women. I don't know that I'll ever marry again, and if I did it would be for convenience.

"But you are something else entirely. I'm not a fatalist and I'm damned sure I don't really want to believe in the God that tears the wings off flies and crashes airplanes and sends tidal waves to destroy cities, but it couldn't be coincidence that brought us together. Somehow I think we were meant to be together.

"It's silly, but somehow I think that if I hadn't met Debbie that year at UF, and if we hadn't gotten together, I wouldn't have found anyone I could have loved as much. And if I had wound up going to France and meeting you BEFORE Philippe, I think it would have been us together."

Tears filled her eyes.

"Don't even dream about it...."

I put my hand over her mouth to shush her.

"Instead of a life with you, I'll have to settle for two weeks. But, if you do it right, sometimes two weeks can be forever."

She was nibbling on my ear as she pumped and jerked on my cock and whispered, "I want you inside of me, Bill. God, I want you inside of me so bad. Take me somewhere and fuck me until I can't think straight anymore."

I had to put my hand over hers and stop her.

"Keep that up and in a minute I'm going to squirt all over inside my underwear and I kind of think you'd rather have it squirting some place else. And at my age, I'm not sure how quick I could get it up again."

She grinned at me.

"Want to bet I couldn't get your mighty cudgel rock hard in 60 seconds, Mr. Maitland?"

"I would never bet against you, but let's not put it to the test. Come on."

I led her by the up from the beach into the dunes. Cars were passing by us occasionally 30 feet away, but in the rolling dunes topped with high growing sea oats, we were invisible.

I threw the light blanket down on the sand and pushed her down onto it. I unsnapped my belt and my slacks slid down around my ankles. Before I could drop down beside her she had reached out, pulled my Hanes down and had planted those luscious lips around my already semi-rock hard cock. A few seconds later I could easily have hammered nails with it.

"Oh shit! Aline..."

Normally I would have enjoyed emptying myself into that pretty mouth but I wanted the real thing tonight so I pushed her head away and she fell back onto the blanket.

"Spoilsport!"

"Tell me that in 30 seconds," I said, as I pushed her dress up around her hips and in the same motion pulled the sheer black panties away from her pussy. Then I dived in. She was dripping but in 30 seconds my face was soaked.

"Oh, God, God, God..that feels so good. Lick it, lick it darling..stick your tongue way in...like that...that...Oh...I missed this....every day....every day.....ohhhh"

Then she grabbed my head and with superhuman will, she pushed my tongue away from where it wanted to be, made me look into her eyes and asked, "Did you miss me like that, Bill? Was I on your mind all the time..."

"I missed you every day, Aline. And...almost...every minute.."

I couldn't help giving her a little smile thinking of Dimples and sexy granny Heather and she picked up on it. She swatted me on the head, and then let her grip go.

"You bastard....I know men well enough to know when you weren't missing me...I guess you got over Debbie...I'm very angry at you."

As I dived back into her soaking pussy she gasped, pushed herself up at me and said, "But I'll forgive you if you keep doing that...just like THAT!"

She brought her knees up around my head and squeezed as she spasmed and I remembered she had very strong legs As the force of her first orgasm shook her I pulled my mouth away and said, "I'm sorry. No more tongue for you tonight, young lady."

Her mouth opened in surprise as I lifted her ass with both hands, placed both those luscious legs over my shoulders, and with her pussy wide open, rammed my cock into it as deep and hard and fast as I could.

"Umm..uh.uh..ohhhh....god damn...bill....it's going to....going to.....shit can't think...going to come out.....uh...my throat..."

And then she lost the breath and the will to talk as I tongue wrestled her, letting her taste herself on my tongue, while I fucked her missionary style. There are a lot of things to be said for other positions, but I guess I'm conservative there too.

Missionary is still the easiest way to get off, the way that lets you look into the eyes of woman you're fucking. The old poets are right. The eyes can speak.

All too soon, it couldn't have been more than two or three minutes, I felt myself getting ready to pour out into her and gave her the chance to stop me.

"Aline....getting close....can pull....do this longer..."

She bit my tongue gently.

"You better give me what I've been waiting weeks for...now....."

And being the gentleman I was, naturally I did. Once, twice, three, four and five hard shots and she moaned with each one and tried to swallow my dick whole inside the hot pussy of hers.

Finally I stopped and let her legs slip to the ground while I held myself up over her, leaning on my elbows.

"Wow."

"How about magnifique!"

"You were definitely magnifique!"

"For an old man you weren't too bad."

"You're only saying that because you know you've disarmed me and I can't punish you anymore tonight."

She leaned over and grabbed my wilting manhood with a firm grip and said, "You remember our bet"

"Yes, baby, but I really feel like I need an IV right now. I gave you everything I had and then some...."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that."

She turned out to be wrong. She couldn't get my magnificent cudgel hard again in 60 seconds. It took her a full five minutes, including sticking a slim finger up my ass while she sucked on my weary dick. But get it up, she did. And kept it up for 25 minutes this time as we did it doggy, some version of the Kama Sutra she introduced me to, cowboy style and finally up her ass.

As she lay in my arms after that workout we listened to the increasingly more rare cars passing by us on the road about five feet higher than the valley between dunes we rested in. Frogs or crickets or whatever the hell they were made the dunes alive with the sound of their music.

"You really thought of me every day?"

I placed my hand on the side of her face and stared into those dark eyes that had held me captive since the first moment I saw her on the Bonne Chance before I even knew who she was. And I knew that my intuition had been correct. She was dangerous as only someone who can destroy you is dangerous.

"Every day."

"Would you have forgotten me? You're a man, and I know you've had sex since we saw each other, you dog. Would I eventually have become just another one of your old conquests?"

"Is that what I would become to you, when you return to Andre and Philippe and the Bonne Chance and your life in Paris?'

She looked at me with a sad look on her face.

"You are always going to be the dark secret in my heart, standing between me and Philippe. The one I pray to God Philippe never learns about."

'And you will always be the One that Got Away."

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2005 11 a..m.

I was probably dragging a little bit when I finally walked into my office, but staying until 2 a.m. and having sex until my poor abused male organ had been whipped into a state of total exhaustion by a Frenchwoman's pussy, ass, mouth and hands will do that to you. I think she would have used her toes if we could have figured out a way to do it and if I'd had any bent in that direction.

I had gotten up at 6 a.m., literally dragged myself into the gym and went through the motions of a workout. My legs felt like I was walking on rubber bands. They were just tired and I felt every one of my almost 42 years.

But I forced myself. If I let every temptation keep me out of the gym, I knew in a few months I'd be the same old flabby loser I'd been for years. That wasn't going to happen.

I waved at Susie as I walked in and found out that Cheryl was still out with the bug that had knocked her down two days before.

I wasn't happy that Cheryl had gotten sick, but in hindsight I was damned glad she hadn't been around when Aline showed up. Somehow I knew she'd have discovered who Aline was and somehow the word would have gotten back to Debbie.

I had no reason to be afraid of a confrontation. We were through and there was nothing that Debbie could do to screw things up and in a very real way, I'd love to rub Debbie's nose in the fact that I could still attract a woman like Aline to my bed.

But it would complicate things. For now it was just Aline and myself in our little bubble, me trying as hard as I could to shrink our world down to just two of us over the next two weeks. I knew it was impossible, but I wanted to keep Aline away from as much of my regular life as I could.

When I opened my office and switched on my laptop, I took a moment to yawn and rub the tiredness out of my eyes and then my phone rang.

"You have a caller," Susie said. "She wouldn't identify herself."

"I'll take it. And who would this be?"

"Is anyone listening?"

"No."

"Good. I just wanted to let you know what I was doing, Mr. Maitland. Can you guess?"

"Probably reading a good book or maybe getting ready to take a taxi out to look around Jacksonville?"

"Would you believe I have my fingers in a certain place and I'm doing something that is making me feel very, very good."

"I can't imagine what you're talking about."

"And I'm imagining that it's a part of you that's rammed up real far inside that is making me feel wonderful. I miss you. I know you have a job. But I miss you and wish you were here."

"I'm going to have to hang up in just a moment, Miss. I'm afraid this conversation is going in a direction that will lead to me being very unproductive today, and I do have business to take care of."

"Very well, Mr. Maitland. I'll let you get back to business, but I want you to know what I'm doing and what I'm thinking about and to remember that you have very, very important business to take care of tonight."

"Trust me, I won't forget."

After I'd hung up I felt a little twinge in a part of my anatomy that I was sure was going to be out of action at least until tonight. Jesus, the woman was like walking Viagra. But I forced my attention back to business.

The first order of business was to make plans to be in court next week to ask the court to give Judy Johansen, The Killer Granny, the death penalty. I'd managed to convict her of first degree murder a few days before, but there was still a long way to go to get the judge to hand down a death penalty.

The penalty phase was where Lew Walters would pull out all the stops, using family, friends, the sobbing defendant, to convince the judge that the 67-year-old grandmother should not be strapped down a prison gurney while poison was pumped into her veins to stop her heart. It was up to the judge, and I honestly, despite my nickname of Angel of Death, didn't have any great urge to see her put to death.

Living out the balance of her life in a prison jump suit, having to see her family in a prison visiting room with guards around, having to use her personal funds or family funds to buy cigarettes or other items from a prison canteen instead of vactioning on a beach in Bali would be enough of a punishment.

I didn't need to see her die on that gurney. But on the following Wednesday Lew Walters and her family would be pulling out all the stops to see that she didn't get the death penalty. I could live with that.

But I didn't want her to get five or ten years, be out earlier with good behavior, and get out with years ahead of her as a free woman. I didn't necessarily want her to be put to death, but I needed her to die in prison.