There's an old saying in my neck of the woods.
If you're dumb enough to poke in a hornets nest, don't be surprised when you get stung.
Most of you hated the last chapter, and a few of you actually got it. Thought this final chapter might clear a few things up, and no, I didn't write this as a response to the feedback, it was already almost ready to post.
Like it, don't like it, but feel free to tell me anyway. As if you wouldn't. Thanks for reading.
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I walked the rooms of my new house. It was almost finished. Soon the decorators would be unleashed, the furniture delivered, and the landscaping finished. I looked out at the lake, especially towards the big house that sat almost exactly opposite me.
This was my dream home, the one I always told my husband I wanted when we retired. Too bad he won't be living in it with me.
You see, he and I aren't together anymore. Totally my fault, but it didn't make it hurt any less when he divorced me. He was the only man I ever loved.
The kicker is the big house across the cove belongs to him. That's right, I'm moving into his neighborhood. He doesn't know it yet. Our granddaughter does but she promised not to tell him. I want it to be a surprise.
He probably won't have anything to do with me. If he does I'll be surprised, but one thing I've learned over the years is you can never really predict how he's going to respond to anything.
I passed a cruise in as I left town the other day, a collection of cars I was old enough to remember being new. It brought back all kinds of memories, especially the one where I first met Roy.
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It was 1972, the era of free love, burn the bra, up with femininity.
I was in college, studying for a nursing degree.
Three hundred miles from home with no one to tell me no. I wasn't a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, let's just say I was VERY popular in high school and leave it to that.
But in college I went into full slut mode. I convinced myself I needed to get it out of my system, then go back home, marry, and be a good little wife far from my adventurous past.
I was almost done with my freshman year. Mom had lined up a summer job for me as a nurses' aid in a rest home. Good experience for my resume. I dreaded it.
We were cruising the boulevard. Gas was twenty three cents a gallon, that's what you did back then. I was with my friends Sabrina and Jane, her sister Becky and her boyfriend Bobby. We were in his '70 Chevelle, a muscle car of the era.
He was bragging about his 350 engine, the cam, his four on the floor, and a lot of other stuff he was very proud of that meant nothing to me. Cars were to get you from point A to point B, period.
I was about halfway through a bottle of wine when we pulled up beside this big four door car. Two guys our age were in it. Bobby wanted to show off, so he made fun of their car.
"Does grandpa know you've got his car?"
He was shocked beyond measure when the driver held up a twenty, popped it twice, and laid it on the dash. This was a common signal that he would race you from one stoplight to the next for the money. Bobby was so shocked he missed the light change, and the guy slowly pulled away. You could hear him laughing.
We caught them at the next light. Bobby's vanity was so offended he pulled a twenty out. It wasn't even a contest. When the light changed he left us behind. While Bobby was fighting to regain traction he was already pulling into the parking lot of a grocery store.
They pulled over and got out, immediately went into car talk, raising the hoods and inspecting engines. I didn't even get out of the car. I couldn't see the driver, he had his head under the hood.
"He's kind of cute" whispered Sabrina, eying the passenger, "let's get out."
As we did I heard the one named Billy trying to talk the guy driving into getting us to ride with them.
"Maybe we'll get some pussy" I heard him say.
That seemed to be the sum total of what college guys of the time, or any time before or since, was interested in. In my time it was pussy, cars, pussy, drinking, pussy. And let's not forget pussy.
What were college girls interested in? Clothes, dick, good times, dick. And don't forget, dick. It worked out pretty well for both parties.
It pissed me off when I heard him joke I was probably a dog. I stopped long enough to retie the halter I was wearing until it almost showed the bottom of my boobs and shook my long hair into my face. I stood, put my hands in my hair, straining my top until I'm sure the bottom of my tits showed.
"Hi" I said, holding my hair back with one hand and extending the other, "I'm Sheila. Woof."
He turned about eight shades of red while everyone including me laughed. I got am example of his soon to be familiar quick wit."
He shook my hand.
"Roy, glad to meet you. Have I had a chance to tell you yet what a dog fancier I am?"
He was about six feet tall, thin, with long hair and a beard, not unruly but neatly groomed, and the most expressive brown eyes I've ever seen staring at me behind silver wire rimmed glasses. He looked like a neater, more handsome John Lennon. I liked him instantly.
We sat and talked for awhile, then he went in and bought me two bottles of my favorite wine and a case of beer.
Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. They still sell it. I can look at the label and get nauseous to this day.
He and Billy drank a few beers while Sabrina and I worked on the wine. We talked, we laughed. In thirty minutes I was across the seat and under his arm.
Seatbelts, drinking and driving? Screw that, we were college students, we were immortal. Common thinking at the time.
He didn't drink much anyway, but I decided to pick up his slack. He had been rubbing my leg for an hour, right up to the edge of mu cutoffs and a bit beyond. I had already decided to fuck his brains out when we got back to the apartment.
Billy and Sabrina had stopped drinking and were all but fucking in the back seat. I finished my bottle and drank what was left of hers. Bad mistake. By the time we got back to the apartment my head was spinning. Roy actually carried me in and lay me down on the couch, where I promptly passed out.
He went home, there was nothing else he could do for me. Twenty minutes later Sabrina was holding my hair while I worshipped at the porcelain altar.
She fed me aspirin and a large glass of water and helped me to bed.
I was lying there feeling the ceiling spin when I heard them whispering.
"Think she's asleep yet?"
"Yeah, when she passes out like this she's gone for the night. Now, where were we, honey?"
So I laid there and listened to Billy grunt and Sabrina wail until I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the trashcan and gave up the rest of my stomach. They never missed a stroke.
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