Hi Folks. I originally wanted to do something more shocking with this story. All the way until the moment I posted it I was torn between which version to use. I decided in the end to do both. Like "Fur" last year I'm putting out both versions. Most of you will already know where to find the other version. This is the nice or hopeful version. The mean version is somewhere else. As usual the story wouldn't be as smooth or as easy to read without the help of the truly gifted Mikothebaby so please include her in any Kudos and since I'm the one who wrote any goofs are all mine. SS06
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Have you ever run into something out of nowhere that caused you the most intensive pain you've ever experienced? I mean not like a sudden heart attack or getting shot by a stray bullet because those are pass/fail situations. And wait, before we go into this, I know that women are going to trot out child birth. Well sisters, you've been riding that old horse for too long. Child birth is voluntary pain and you get the greatest reward on earth for it so just let it go. I'm talking about soul searing pain that never goes away and continues to affect your life long after it's over.
The shitty thing about it is that I've always expected it in a way, but I'd kind of allowed myself to become complacent. I'd started to believe that if it hadn't happened by now, it probably wouldn't happen. So I let my guard down and I started to believe that something I'd gotten away with stealing was mine. I'll tell you, all that shit they say about how crime doesn't pay is right. The sad thing is that if I had to do it all over again and this time I knew what would happen...Shit, I'd probably still do it anyway.
My name is William Place. My friends and family call me Will. When this all happened I'd been married for eight years to the most beautiful, magical woman I'd ever known. Strangely enough, she doesn't seem to think so. I guess over the years I've gotten so used to seeing her in varying stages of beauty and grooming, that I'd forgotten how truly breathtaking she is. Most people who see her coming into a store or walking down the street watch her as she passes. My son and I don't give her a second look. She's just, "Honey," or "Mom," to us.
I guess the weirdest thing about Peyton is that she almost never goes all out. Peyton can grab a shower, throw on some lip gloss, step into a dress, brush her hair back and then stand next to women who've been at the hairdresser's and a salon and a makeup artist for several hours and just look so much better that there's no contest. Peyton is an angel made flesh.
The shitty thing about growing up in a moderately sized town is...well everything. If you grow up in a large city, you're only one of millions of people, so whatever happens to you doesn't matter much and people tend to forget about it. When you grow up in a small town, you're only one of a few and most of the people get along and they're friendly to some extent so you already kind of know who the bad guys are. In the middle there are enough people that you can't meet or know everyone, so the bad guys have a place to hide. But the town is small enough that everyone still knows when something shitty happens, they just probably don't know the parties involved.
Growing up, almost everyone in my circle knew about Larry Miller. I think that I probably heard about him for the first time when I was about 18. Larry was my age and people around town called him the prince of pussy. The rumor was that Larry was one of those "lock up your daughter" types. If there was a woman around and Larry saw her and had an interest in her, he would probably eventually fuck her.
I thought for a long time that Larry was probably some kind of old wives tale. You know, just a story they made up to scare the average guy into getting married. He was like the Boogie man or the Wendigo. But instead of eating children, he was more like, "Oh shit; you should have married her. She's with Larry Miller now."
In the first place, there were so many women in our town that got married right after high school or part way through college that I believe a lot of the girls just threw out Larry's name when they were tired of waiting for a ring. A lot of them were wide assed farm girls that normally wouldn't be considered...Okay I know that what I'm about to say is going to sound sexist, or chauvinistic, or misogynistic but I'm sorry, it's the truth. Anyway, a lot of them, my own sister included, would normally be considered, "practice girls."
A practice girl is someone you have a relationship with and fuck and do all of the things that everyone else does but you never intend to marry them. In a lot of cases, there's only one thing wrong with them or a couple, or even nothing wrong with them, but for some reason you just don't see yourself being with them for the rest of your life.
The bad thing about it is that the practice girl never realizes that she's a practice girl. She really believes that you're her one and only and vice versa. So she starts to put some pressure on you. It can be very subtle, like cutting down on the frequency of sex. Or slightly less subtle like walking you inside of the local jewelry store and standing in front of the engagement ring display.
Anyway, Larry Miller turned a whole lot of practice girls into wives at the mere mention of his name. I heard my sister planning out her strategy with her best friend who also used it successfully.
My sister, Summer, had never even seen Larry Miller, but she told her boyfriend Mark Thyme that she'd met the most interesting guy that afternoon at work. Mark asked her what was so interesting about him and she'd told him that she couldn't put her finger on it, but there was just something about him. Mark asked her what his name was. I guessed that he just wanted to try to find the guy and tell him to lay off of Summer. When Summer said, "Larry Miller. Do you know him?" Mark turned green.
The thought of having his steady supply of pussy gone sent him into fits. And the thought of being one of those guys who's taken a girl back after she fucked Larry Miller was worse. Everyone in town would be laughing at him. Shit, if Summer got pregnant ten years from then people would still wonder if it was really Larry's baby. Larry probably had some type of super sperm that laid there, waiting for just the right time to fertilize an egg.
So Mark jumped up and proposed to Summer. They went out and bought a ring the very next day. I guess Mark was hoping for a long engagement but before he knew it, he was married. The same strategy worked for a couple of Summer's friends. There are probably a lot of guys around our town who realized years later that they'd been trapped and it was too late to do anything about it.
I myself finally got a chance to meet Larry our third year in college. He, like me and almost everyone else in our town, went to the state university that was about twenty miles outside of town. To tell you the truth, I didn't see anything special about Larry. He was taller than I was at the time and a bit bigger, but he was just a regular guy.
When I saw him around girls though, my opinion just changed. Larry was as smooth as they come. That part was probably from all of the practice he got. He was also the biggest fucking liar I ever met. Larry would just make shit up and somehow it never blew up in his face. There was also something more to Larry and his success than met the eye.
I saw several guys try to use the same lines that Larry got away with and they were never able to pull it off. Larry could also go into a party full of women from another school and five minutes later, take one of the girls upstairs. After seeing him in action, I just couldn't figure it out. Years later, I came to realize that it probably just had something to do with pheromones. But then it was a mystery.
Around school, Larry left a trail of broken relationships, to say nothing of broken hearts in his wake. As more and more women fell for Larry's charms, he went from being called the prince of pussy, to the baron of bullshit. Most of the guys on campus hated Larry with a passion. He had very few male friends and most of the ones he had were bottom feeders who only wanted Larry's leftovers.
I watched the drama from the sidelines. I had no interest in it. I looked at college as the last vestiges of childhood before my real life began. I didn't form any lasting relationships because I was very sure that I wouldn't be sticking around in my small town when I finished. In fact, I didn't even intend to finish school here. I wanted a Master's Degree in Engineering. And although our University had a program, I wanted my Master's to come from a more prestigious school like the University of Michigan or MIT.
I had girlfriends or girls that were friends while in school but I made it sure that there were never any strings. I'm a decent looking guy so there were a couple of times during my time in college that girls mentioned "permanence," or "commitment," to me. I quickly moved on. One girl during my senior year even tried the Larry Miller move on me. Kathy and I had gotten to be very close. She'd even started leaving things around my apartment and had some clothes and a toothbrush there because she stayed over so often.
Kathy had been so subtle about it that she even knew all of my neighbors. Shit, I didn't know most of those people so I thought it was funny that she did. But out of nowhere one night, we'd been watching TV and I started to yawn. I wasn't actually sleepy, I was horny.
"You know, I met the most interesting guy today," she said.
I was so amped up about getting my dick wet that I continued to listen to her. "What made him interesting?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said. She got this weird listless tone in her voice as if she was remembering something really special. The tone in her voice was either fake or real. If it was fake the bitch was trying to manipulate me. If it was real, then she had either fucked Larry already or was thinking about it.
"Grab your purse," I said. "Let's go for a ride." She looked startled. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the apartment. I made sure she got her purse. We drove around in circles for a while and she had the biggest smile on her face. In her mind, she'd successfully executed the Miller maneuver on me.
I think she was really surprised when I pulled in front of one of the dorms on campus and parked. I got out of the car and pulled her out after me. I think you all can imagine her surprise when I sat her down on a bench in the park that over looked the dorm building.
I got down on one knee in front of her and took her hand in mine. I looked up into her big pretty eyes...And believe me there was nothing wrong with Kathy. She was a pretty woman. She had big soft boobs that I loved playing with. She had great legs and an incredible ass. Kathy was one of those curvy, Marilyn Monroe types. And as I've said, there was nothing wrong with her. She'd make a wonderful wife for someone. But I wasn't that guy. As nice as Kathy was, she was, at least for me, a practice girl. Shit, if Kathy had been patient and waited a few more years, I probably would have married her. But what I wanted most in life then was an advanced degree and a ticket out of that small town. I didn't bust my ass in the first phase of college to end up working in the local Factory.
I took Kathy's hand in mine and looked up into those big pretty eyes and did some acting of my own. "Kath, Honey?" I said. "Uhm the guy you met this afternoon; the interesting one. Was his name Larry Miller?"
"Yes," she said. "Why are you asking me that?"
"Because if you sit here on this bench for a while, you'll probably see him stagger in after he's done fucking some other guy's girl. That's his dorm across the street. Good night," I said.
I got back into my car and rolled down the window. I was driving my first car then. It was a 1998 Mustang in Arctic white. It was only a V6 and it had those annoying rims that were panted the same color as the body, but it was a great car for a college kid.
Kathy was still in shock as I rolled down the window. "Your dorm is only a few blocks that way," I told her. "When you come by tomorrow, to pick up the rest of your stuff from my place, please leave the key on the table."
