Christine Baron awoke to the sound of her alarm clock's electronic pulse intruding upon the pleasant mood that permeated her dream. By the time that she was able to locate the snooze button and cancel the blaring claxon she had already forgotten what it was in her dream that made her feel so good. She turned over and tried to go back to sleep, but the sunlight peeking through the wooden blinds made that impossible for her. She turned over once again and realized that the good feeling that enveloped her when she first awoke was now completely gone, replaced by thoughts of the hell that her life had become.
Was it only three years ago that I was so happy?
she asked herself.
Only three years?
Three years ago Christine was a tenured professor at a major university. Her husband James, also a tenured professor and ten years older than Christine, convinced her to take an early retirement so that the two of them could move away from the frigid Midwest and retire in sunny South Florida. He convinced her that due to his investment acumen they had acquired substantial liquid assets over the years. His pension would provide them cash for their every day needs, and the income from their investments would allow them to live comfortably until she began to draw on her pension upon reaching the age of 62. So they both retired and moved to the Florida Keys.
Less than a year later everything went to hell. The markets collapsed and their investments were wiped out. "Mr. Investment Acumen" had placed all of their funds in money market funds tied to speculative mortgage accounts, which became worthless over a span of seven months. Over Christine's objection, James went to Key West for a week to meet with an investor who caught his ear with another "can't miss" proposition. One week stretched into two weeks and then two became a month. James continuously insisted that he was "in negotiations," and that he would be back in another few days, but after two months her phone calls were no longer returned, and after three months Christine found that her credit cards were canceled and she no longer had access to their joint bank accounts.
She tried to remain calm, but her anxieties were getting the best of her. She hired a private detective to drive to Key West and find James. One week later the detective returned and gave Christine an address where he promised she could find him. The next day she set out on the two-hour drive to Key West, arriving just before noon. It did not take long to find the address, which turned out to be an apartment in an upscale property. She parked her car and looked for the unit, number 323. She cut across a courtyard with a swimming pool. She saw about a dozen or so people either in the pool or sunning in a chaise on the adjacent deck. Curiously, all of the residents and guests were men of various ages, from late 20s to 70s. Most were nude.
Where are all the women?
she wondered.
Are they nude also? What kind of place is this?
She located an elevator and got off on the third floor. She found unit 323 and rang the doorbell. A slender young man who appeared to be in his late 30s answered the door. He was bare chested, and when Christine looked down she noticed that he was wearing only a silk thong that barely contained his equipment.
"Can I help you?" he asked, very politely.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I must have the wrong apartment. I am looking for number 323."
"This is 323. How can I help you?"
"I am looking for a Dr. James Baron. Do you know him?"
"James!" he turned and called toward the back of the apartment. "Someone here to see you."
Tying a robe around his waist, James emerged from the back bedroom, halting in his tracks when he saw Christine.
"I did not expect you," James mumbled.
"I can see that," Christine answered, struggling to control her emotions.
"What the hell is going on here?" she screamed at him, her composure utterly failing.
"Come inside, please. There is something I need to explain to you."
"Explain? That is an understatement. There is something you need to fix."
She followed James into the apartment and took a seat on the sofa across from him. James explained that upon arriving in Key West he was introduced to William, the young man who answered the door. After three days of spending every hour together in meetings and every evening having dinner and drinking in the Key West culture, the two of them partied late into the night to celebrate closing their deal. James awoke the next morning in William's bedroom. William assured James that nothing had happened the night before, but after having breakfast in bed, showering, taking a sauna together and then showering again, the two of them returned to William's room and consummated their relationship.
James suggested that Christine go back to Islamorada while he took a sabbatical from their marriage. She was enraged.
Sabbatical?
she thought.
You call abandoning your wife and sucking cock in Key West a sabbatical?
Tearfully she left the apartment, got in her car and drove back to her home.
The next day she met with an attorney and filed for divorce. James contested at first, but quickly conceded. Christine found that their assets were gone, their home had no equity, and their only income was James' pension. The judge ordered James to pay her alimony, but it was not enough to make the mortgage payment on the home. Three months later it went into foreclosure, and she was forced to move.
Christine had always struggled with her weight. Before the disaster she was not really heavy, but no one ever confused her with a swimsuit model. When she and James were married, he called her "pleasantly plump." In her last years of teaching she often heard students refer to her as "thick," "bootylicious," or "stacked," and they mistakenly called her a "MILF." "Thick" she understood; "bootylicious," was just silly and "stacked," seemed kind of old-fashioned; but she never had children, so the "MILF" designation was a mystery to her. Once she and James retired, however, she found herself gaining weight at an alarming rate. When James left her, the weight gain accelerated. She estimated that she was now well over 200 pounds for the first time in her life. In actuality, she was probably closer to 250, but she refused to step on a scale again until she dropped a few dress sizes. Her ass, which was always plump and round, was now huge and dimpled. Her breasts had swollen from a full C cup to an imposing DD. At least they had increased in size enough to distract attention from her belly, which now formed an unsightly bulge hanging over her panty line.
Christine realized that she had to find somewhere to live and get a job. She wanted to move back home and resume working at the university, but due to budget cutbacks her position had been eliminated. To make matters worse, due to a statewide budget freeze, there were no job openings for a full professor in any college or university in the entire state. So she expanded her search, sending her resume to every university and college in the Southeast.
The first job offer she received was teaching advanced English at Monte Cristo Community College, a diploma mill on the West coast of Florida. She put that aside, and waited for more offers to pour in. After a month of receiving no call backs and finding her mailbox stuffed with only rejection letters, she realized she had no alternative. She called Monte Cristo to accept the offer.
Christine was stunned when Dr. Simmons, the head of the English department, told her that the position had already been filled. When Christine did not respond after a week, the position was offered to the next qualified candidate. Christine was unable to speak as she struggled to hold back her tears. Just as she was about to hang up the telephone, Dr. Simmons told her that another position had opened that morning, teaching remedial English 100 to students with learning "challenges." Having no other options, Christine accepted the offer and moved to Monte Cristo.
By the end of the first week, Christine realized that her class consisted of three kinds of students: there were a few foreigners who knew just enough English to almost carry on a conversation, but who could not read or write in English; the biggest group consisted of students who had no business being in an institution of higher learning as they lacked the education and skills to complete high school, but the college let them in anyway to collect their tuition; and a small group of qualified students who did not want to be in class and did not care about learning, but enrolled only because their parents paid them to go. The last group, which should have been the most teachable, was by far the most disruptive.
The foreign students, to their credit, did put forth an effort. But her Midwestern ears could not decipher their words through the thick and varied accents. She realized this shortcoming was her own, but that thought gave her no solace and made her job no more enjoyable.
The unqualified students were hopeless. She felt that she would be better off talking to rocks than some of those students. Rocks absorbed just as much as the students, but asked fewer stupid questions.
It was the last group, however, that made her job a living hell. They were never prepared, never paid attention in class, but were always quick to offer a quip about her weight when they thought that she could not hear. Sometimes they uttered their quips even when they knew that she could hear. She despised this group of students.
