Why?... 02

It had only been a few minutes since my return home from the volunteer shift at my church's lunch time soup kitchen before I heard the door chime. I went to the door and a Sargent from the sheriff's department was standing on my front stoop.

"Afternoon ma'am, are you Cynthia Rogers and is your husband Bradley Rogers?" Sgt. Jim Thomas asked me before I could say a word in greeting to him.

"Come on Jim, you see me and Brad most Sundays at church. You know who I am."

"Mrs. Rogers, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but your husband has been killed in a single car accident. I need you to come down to the county morgue with me and identify the body."

I went numb with shock and stood frozen with one hand still on the door and the other pressed against my upper thigh. I couldn't say or do anything and don't know how long I would have stood there if Sgt. Thomas hadn't reached out and took the hand not on the door and massaged it gently between us.

"Cindy, I know this is hard to imagine right now, but you need to come with me, okay? I'll be with you the entire time you're away from the house."

Sgt. Thomas grabbed my purse from the table beside the door and led me out of the house making sure the door was locked before leading me to his unmarked car. He placed me in the passenger's seat in the front of the car and buckled the seat belt around me. I still hadn't said a word and was having trouble thinking through the hazy veil that had drifted across my mind. I didn't see the scenery on the drive to the morgue as I stared straight ahead through the wind shield.

Sgt. Thomas had to physically lift me from the car and place me on my feet when we got to the morgue. When they pulled the sheet down from Brad's face, I snapped out of my haze and began to cry. The left side of Brad's head had a large gash above the ear to below the crown of his head. I didn't see any other signs of injury to the small section of his upper body or head that was uncovered.

"Mrs. Rogers is that your husband Bradley Rogers?" Carl Baker, the morgue director and another member from our church, asked me.

"Yes! That's Brad!" I managed to say between sobs. Sgt. Thomas led me to a chair in the corridor outside the viewing room.

I cried for ten minutes before I could get my emotions under control.

"Are you ready for me to take you home, Cindy?" Sgt. Thomas inquired of me.

"Yes, Jim. Please take me home. I'll have to call Brad's parents and then Jefferson's Mortuary to arrange for them to pick up Brad's body."

"I'll call the mortuary for you, Cindy." I heard Carl say from behind me.

"Thanks, Carl."

I let Jim lead me back to his car and the questions began forming in my mind as he pulled away.

"Jim, can you tell me what happened?"

"Brad's Porsche left the road and hit a large oak tree broadside on the driver's door. Brad's neck was broken and I'm fairly confident that he died instantly."

"Why did his car leave the road? Was he drunk or distracted by something?"

"I don't know Cindy. No alcohol was found at the scene and the investigating trooper didn't report smelling any on Brad or in the car. Maybe he looked at his passenger and missed the turn. He was driving at a high rate of speed."

"Passenger? What passenger?"

"Renee Banks was his passenger, the RN that works at the hospital that Brad does."

"How is she and what was she doing in Brad's car?"

"I don't know any answers to those questions, Cindy. Mrs. Banks was alive at the scene, but in serious condition. A trooper was sent to get her husband so they probably don't expect her to live."

We were back at my house by then and I declined Jim's offer to see me to my door. I called Brad's parents' home in Boston and talked to his mother. She gasped once before telling me that Brad's father would call me back shortly and hung up on me. Brad's father called back ten minutes later and asked me what had happened. I told him all that I knew and started to end the call when he asked me what my intentions were for interring Brad's body. I told him I hadn't thought that far ahead and began to cry anew before hanging up on him. I sank down upon the living room couch and cried myself to sleep.

The phone awakened me two hours later. It was Brad's father informing me that he had made arrangements to have Brad's body shipped to Boston for burial in the family plot of the largest cemetery in Boston. I didn't want Brad to be buried that far from our home in Tennessee but relented when my father in-law threatened to take legal action against me for Brad's estate if I didn't. He also promised me that I would never have to worry about my future if I went along with him. I packed enough clothes for a couple of weeks and flew on Brad's father's private jet with Brad's body back to Boston. With Brad's father having taken care of all the arrangements, all I had to do was show up at the right places at the right times and show the proper amount of grief which wasn't difficult the first few days but became harder as time passed.

With nothing to do but think, I began to run the past through my head. Bradley had been very attentive, loving, and caring during our courtship, but changed after our wedding. He had stopped putting in the effort to please me in bed and I had begun tolerating him using my body for his own pleasure. The huge fight we had when he told me I was a lousy fuck and me telling him that if he didn't care about pleasing me why should I be anything but a lousy fuck led to his first of many affairs.

I knew he had started another one when he stopped pressuring me for sex three and four times a week, but couldn't think of a reason why he would have one with Renee Banks. From everything I had heard about her, she had a good marriage to a hardworking, loving man. Plus she wasn't the type that Brad typically picked for a mistress. At least ten years older than Brad's 32, 5'7" tall compared to my 6', short brown hair compared to my long, flowing blond mane, fat compared to my slim figure that I maintained with tennis and swimming. Her breasts were considerably larger than my modest 32B's, at least 34 and maybe 36 DD's, but again not Brad's normal pick for a mistress. He normally went for younger women with body types like mine. The hair would usually be the only difference between me and his mistress. For some reason he never picked a blonde as a mistress. When I returned to Tennessee, I planned to found out some answers.

I had stayed in my unhappy marriage to Brad for one reason, financial security. Having grown up with a single mom who had struggled to keep us fed, clothed, and sheltered, I had been determined to find a better life for myself. I had worked hard in school and earned a scholarship to Simmons College, a liberal arts school whose undergraduate program was strictly for women, located in Boston. I met Brad at a benefit auction and instantly fell in love with him. I pursued him and finally got him to become my steady then my fiancée. I had remained a virgin all through high school and told Brad I planned to remain one until our wedding night. Brad taught me how to give a good blowjob, but I always pulled off before he spurted into my mouth. Brad would give me orgasms with his mouth and I thought we were a good fit together. I wouldn't find out until our big fight that Brad was seeing other girls to get the pussy he couldn't get from me. He was slow and gentle on our wedding night, but it still hurt so bad that I didn't enjoy intercourse. After he had broken my cherry, Brad stopped giving me orgasms with his mouth and I stopped giving him blowjobs a few months later. Brad never worked me up before fucking me and the only orgasms I had during our whole marriage were self-given.

Brad could have a hundred mistresses as long as I got to live in the life of luxury his income and family money could provide. We belonged to the best country club in the county we lived in in Tennessee, I had a new Benz every two years, lived in an exclusive community in a mansion style home, and had all the jewelry and accessories a woman could want. With Brad's family's support we didn't struggle like most of the others in Brad's med school class at The University of Tennessee, the only med school to accept him. I fell in love with the hills and mountains of Tennessee and that was why we were still there. It was the only time Brad backed down when I wanted something the opposite of him.

When I returned to Tennessee two weeks later and with another million from Brad's family for my bank account, I called the one person who would know why Brad had picked Renee Banks for a mistress and he'd tell me or I'd cut off his balls. I called Dr. William Harrison, Brad's best friend, and arranged to meet him for lunch.

"Let's get right to the point Will! Why was Brad having an affair with Renee Banks? We both know she wasn't his type."

"You don't need to know, Cindy. Just let it go."

"You'll tell me or I swear I'll cut your balls off and make you eat them in front of Lanie!" Elaine was Will's wife and she had threatened him with the same thing if she caught him cheating on her like Brad had on me.

"He overheard her tell another nurse how much she enjoyed sex with her husband and how she gave him blowjobs and even let him fuck her ass. Brad thought she would be a great lay, but she wasn't much better than you according to him. She did do the things you wouldn't is the only reason he was still seeing her."

"I guess Brad left out the part where he stopped doing things for me too, didn't he? Why should I have made an effort for us to have a good sex life when he wouldn't?"

"You're right and I'm sorry, Cindy. What do you plan to do now? Moving back up north to be closer to Brad's family?"

"Hell no! They can stay up there and I'll stay down here. I love it here and as long as Brad's father keeps his promise to me, I'll be alright right where I'm at. Be a gentleman and get the check, okay Will?"

"Sure Cindy. I hope everything works out for you and I'm sure Lanie does too."

I went home and tried to continue with my life, but soon realized that even though we hadn't been happy, being together with Brad was better than being alone. I dated some doctors, a couple of lawyers, and other professionals my friends from the country club set me up with, but they were just like Brad when it came to sex. I could do anything to make it pleasurable for them, but they wouldn't put in any effort into pleasing me. After a year I stopped dating, going to the country club, and basically became a lonely woman in my too big house. It was another year before I realized I was huffing and puffing to get up the stairs that I once ran up without breaking a sweat. I stripped off in front of my full length mirror and looked at myself. I wasn't obese, but the slim, trim, and toned body I once had was gone, replaced with flabby arms, chunky thighs, a big fat ass, a bulgy belly, and tits that were bigger due to the fat in them. I decided to go the next day to the 24-hour fitness center.

I was standing beside Dennis, the manager of the fitness center and a friend from church, when I saw the sexiest, most fit man I had ever seen talking to two beautiful women I knew worked in the administrative offices of the hospital that Brad had been a surgeon in, but didn't know their names. He had a bald head with a grey moustache, muscular neck above a barrel chest equally muscled, a flat stomach, a small cute butt that didn't match the rest of his physique, massive thighs, and muscular calves. I wanted to meet him that very moment, but thought that he'd laugh at me because of the shape my body was in compared to the two hard bodies he was talking and laughing with in joy at that moment. I watched as the two women put their arms around each other and walked past me with the biggest grins that I had ever seen. I watched as he punched in a code to a side door and left the building. I turned to Dennis and asked the one question that I needed answered.

"Who was that hunk that just left the building through that side door, Dennis?"

"That was Martin."

"No! Not the Martin who's before and after pictures are hanging above the receptionist desk?"

"Yep, that was him. I've been trying to get him to let me do another after since he shaved his head and grew his 'tache, but he won't let me. He said I could do another when he reaches the five year mark and our contract is up."

"What contract?"

"The one he signed to be able to use the facilities without paying. He couldn't afford the services he needed at the time he first came here two years ago and signed a contract for the before and after photos and an agreement that he wouldn't quit working out here for five years. He's the best investment I've ever made. The women who join from hearing the female members here talking about his sexual prowess and wanting to experience it for themselves has more than made up for his monthly fees."

"What's his last name, Dennis and why did those two women have those big old grins on their faces?"

"His last name is Banks and I can only guess as to their grins, but I'd say that Martin agreed to hook up with them in the near future for some three way sex."

"His name's Martin Banks, Renee Banks' widower?"

"Yep, that was him. He usually works out in the morning since the settlement from the doctor's, that killed his wife, estate and the prudent investments his lawyer and accountant made let him retire young. He only shows up in the evenings when he's looking for sex. Oh Cindy, I'm so sorry! I didn't think before I opened my big mouth!"

Dennis must have realized who he was talking to and the implications from it. My father in-law had handled the lawsuit and paid out the balance left after the auto insurance company had paid all they were going to pay, but it had still been a painful experience for me. I thought about going to the only other gym in town, but knew it didn't offer half what Dennis' did so I got a full membership with Dennis' center. I would try and come to the center when Martin wasn't there, but came to realize that was going to be difficult after only a day of starting my workouts at the center.

I came in at ten that first day thinking Martin would be gone, but he was still there helping both male and female members as they worked with free weights. He would spot for them and encourage them and he always had this big smile on his face. I saw more than one woman give him a piece of paper in the short time I had before my trainer started pushing me and assumed that there had been phone numbers on them.

Mike, my trainer and who I learned was Martin's first trainer, took it easy on me that first day. He joined me at the juice bar after my workout and we talked. I'm sure Mike was hoping I'd be the next mark on his bedpost, but I wasn't going to let that happen, but I could lead him on long enough to get some information from him. For a professional personal trainer, Mike's body was good, but nothing close to the body Martin had developed, and I wanted to find out if Mike knew any of Martin's secrets.

"You said you were Martin's first trainer earlier, didn't you, Mike? I saw his before picture and it must have been difficult for him in the beginning."

"Yeah, I was hard on him. I tried my best to make him quit but he wouldn't. He'd come in everyday dragging from the previous day's work out and the physical labor he was still doing as an electrician with a determined look on his face and tough it out even though he puked halfway through his workout every day for a week. I knew I wouldn't be able to make him quit when that determined look was replaced by a smile three months later. I can honestly say Martin is the only person I've ever met who actually enjoys working out. Even when he's lifting his personal best with a specific set of weights, he has that smile on his face. I've only seen him not be smiling twice. The first time was when a married woman wouldn't take no for an answer when she came onto him and made him mad and the second was when he had to restrain a distraught husband whose wife had lied to him and gotten him to take her to bed. He and the husband were both crying before the husband calmed down enough for Martin to let him go. He and Martin are good friends now. I heard through the center gossip line that Martin even gave the guy advice and tips on how to please his wife in bed and they're a happily married couple now."

"He must be hung like a horse if he has all those women after him."

"Not from what I've seen in the men's locker room. Mine soft is bigger than his hard."

"Then why do all the women want him?"

"From what I've heard, he really cares about getting the woman off. Supposedly he's good with his mouth and cock. Lisa and Laura swear he's as good at eating pussy as any lesbian they ever been with and since they're the resident lesbian couple here at the center and like to include other women in their lovemaking sessions; they should know. Speaking of eating pussy, how about you and me going back to my place and I'll show you how good I am at it?"

"No thanks Mike, I'm not interested in anything like that right now. See you tomorrow. Say what would be a good time to come so that I don't run into Martin?"

"After 3 PM, but you'll have to get another trainer if you come that late. I'm out of here every day by 1, 2 at the latest."

I didn't want to wait that late so I continued to go to the center at ten every day for the next six months. I had lost most of the extra weight and flab by then and graduated to doing workouts by myself. I had witnessed the blowups of two women toward Martin and found out that they were married women who he had turned down. He had stood there with that big smile on his face and let them rant and rave at him. I watched as he caught the open handed slap one of the women threw at him then watched as he spun her around and carried her to Dennis' office never losing that smile. The lady left after ten minutes in Dennis' office and I hadn't seen her at the center since.

It was one week after I had begun lifting free weights on my own when the event that would change my life occurred. I had gone to the center early to work out and had finished my warm ups before moving to the bench press. I put on the amount of weight that I thought I could handle and lifted it off the bench supports after lying down under it. I managed to lift and lower it three times and had lowered it for the fourth time when I realized I wasn't going to be able to get it back up on my own. I gasped for help and as fate would have it Martin was the closest person to me and came to my aid. The only way I can explain the sensation that when through my body when our hands touched on that bar is to say it was like static electricity when you touch metal after wearing polyester except that it was all the way down into my soul. The look of surprise that replaced Martin's smile told me he felt it too. After he got the weight back onto the supports he looked at me and told me we had to talk. I followed him to the juice bar and drank the orange juice he gave to me.

"I know we've not talked before, but I know who you are, Cynthia. I've been avoiding you as much as you've been avoiding me. I didn't know what to say to you because of what happened in the past and because I was afraid you'd not want anything to do with the widower of the woman your late husband was having an affair with; but we both know we felt something when our hands touched on that bar. I called it a spark between two spirits the one and only other time I felt it and I ended up marrying her. I don't know what to do here, Cynthia. I got and called Renee's phone number when I felt that spark before. Hell, we even had sex on our first date. I had to give her an orgasm with my mouth that first time, I shot so quickly. We were living together three months after we met and married a year later. I'm twelve years older than you and not even close to being in your league. I'm an old electrician and you're high society. What do you think we should do?"