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From: Mr Slot <dalech33@optusnet.com.au>
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Subject: {ASSM} The pain of love {Mr Slot} (MF No Sex)
Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2000 22:10:05 -0500
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The following is a work of fiction consisting of adult concepts and
possibly sex.
Do not read if you are not legally permitted. I don't want the police
on my front doorstep.
You are welcome to read but please don't distribute without my
permission.
Feel free to make any comments to the author.
Send E-Mail to dalech33@hotmail.com
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Just a short something of a story. Be warned, it is not a cheery,
upbeat story of sex and lust.
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The Pain of Love.
We were sitting at the kitchen table, talking over a couple of beers
as we usually do on a Friday afternoon. She was wearing the usual sexy
but inexpensive attire. Faded old shorts and a colourfully tight top
that barely held her push-up bra in place. It had the strange effect
of making her look like a schoolgirl just discovering her sexual
powers even though she was a 27yo mother of one.
I was just wearing the usual jeans and t-shirt that I always wore to
college. I was older than her at 33 but I was attending adult classes
in order to better myself. Or at least that was the lie I liked to
tell myself. In actual fact college was a surprisingly good place to
hide from the outside world. Which was what I spent my life doing.
I liked Bev, liked her a lot. I was a friend of her husband and it was
through him that I met her. She had an aura of strength surrounding
her. You could just tell that she was the type of person who would not
take any shit.
Except from one person.
Her husband Brad.
He was the reason she dressed the way she did. Like a child trying to
appease her stern father, she would follow him around, answering to
his every beck and call. I could never understand that. But I liked
her, maybe even loved her in a brother-sister sort of way. And these
Friday afternoon chat sessions over a few beers were my favourite time
of the week. I would have the afternoon off from classes and she would
not have to worry about her daughter because her parents picked Nikki
up from school and spent the afternoon with her.
I could always tell when something was bothering Bev and today was no
exception. She was not her usual cheerful self. But if there was one
thing I knew about Bev it was that you could never make her tell you
anything. You just had to be patient. So we sipped our beers and
talked shit and I waited for her to get to the nitty gritty. And of
course, she did.
"He is seeing a prostitute you know."
I nearly spat my beer across the kitchen.
"What?" I said after regaining what little composure I had left.
"He is seeing a prostitute. She calls herself a masseuse but I know
what she really does. You don't work out of your own house and charge
$200 for a back rub."
"But how do you know this?" The idea of Brad going to a hooker was a
complete shock to me. Ever since I first met him women have thrown
themselves at him.
We all know the type. Never the most handsome looking guy around but
they just seem to have that certain something that women find
irresistible. It didn't surprise me that he was cheating on Bev, I
kind of expected it. But actually paying for it when he could get it
for free so easily? She had to be mistaken.
"I went through his wallet the other day and found a clipping from a
newspaper with her ad on it. So I rang her to see what she was
offering. I even told her I was thinking of getting into the business
and described myself to her. She confirmed that she was selling her
body. She even told me that I could make a lot of money out of it."
"Well okay, that all sounds pretty bad but how do you know he actually
went? He might have just been thinking about it."
"I checked his mobile phone bills. He has called her a few times. So I
checked his pay sheet and the hours he was paid for don't match the
hours he said he was working. And money has been going out of the
joint bank account. Hundreds of dollars at a time."
"Damn." It was all I could say. I was still in shock over the whole
thing.
"Plus he is carrying around condoms in his wallet."
"Well that could be explained easily enough. Maybe he was thinking of
taking you by surprise one day and just wanted to be prepared."
"We don't use condoms Sam. Both of us hate them. Not that we have sex
all that much any more."
That was the way Bev was. Once she got talking she would tell me just
about anything. I actually felt honoured that she would trust me that
much. I decided not to ask about her sex life. She would tell me if
she wanted too. And she wanted too.
"I haven't had a good fuck in months. I have to practically rape him
to get any and then I have to do all the work. It's not the most
satisfying sex when your partner looks like he is about to fall asleep
on you."
Now I know what you are thinking dear reader. I should offer my
services to the poor girl. And don't get me wrong, I have thought
about it. But I know Bev and I know that she would say no. It is one
of the reasons I liked her so much. No matter what shit the world
throws at her she sticks to her own sense of morals. Anyway, I would
rather have her as a friend than an ex-lover. Friendship lasts longer.
I decide to take the easy way out and sip some more beer.
"I honestly don't know why I stick with him."
I wanted to tell her to ditch him but I knew she didn't want advice
right now, only someone to listen to her.
"I wanted to give little Nikki some swimming lessons this summer."
Nikki was her only child, her pride and joy. At just 7 she was already
as beautiful as her mother. She was going to break a lot of hearts
when she was older.
"So why don't you?"
"Because he won't allow it. Not enough money apparently. It's only $10
Sam. Ten lousy dollars to make a little girl happy. Is that too much
to ask?"
I could see the tears start to well in her eyes but she fought them
back. Like I said, the lady was tough. I reached for my wallet but she
shook her head. She knew that $10 was a fortune to a struggling
student.
"It's ok Bev, I have some left over. I can afford it."
"You can't lie worth a damn Sam. Put it away."
She watched as I put my wallet back in my pocket, making sure that I
didn't try to slip the ten onto the table with out her seeing. I tried
it once before and failed. I could give the money to Brad but I know
it would never get to her.
"So how is Nikki?" It was an attempt to change the subject and she was
visibly grateful for it.
"Nikki is doing really well at school. You should see what she is
doing Sam. She is just seven and she is already writing stories. I
think I have one here somewhere." She got up and went to her child's
room, coming back a few minutes later with some pages clutched
lovingly in her hands. She handed them to me and I started to read. It
was a simple story about a little princess who rescues her beautiful
mother from the evil King. In the end the princess sprinkles some
fairy dust on herself and her mother and they fly out of the clutches
of the tyrant to live happily ever after in a kingdom in the clouds.
The correlation to her real life was obvious.
"It's beautiful," I said. And it was. Even at seven Nikki had
developed a rapport with the reader. She was going to be very good at
this when she was older.
"Yes it is, but you can see what it is really about can't you?"
"Yes it is fairly obvious what she is talking about. Has Brad read
it?"
"I showed it to him but he just skimmed through it. I doubt he
actually read any of it. If it isn't the sports section of the
newspaper he usually isn't interested. I doubt he would understand it
anyway. He is not the quickest person on the planet."
I smiled at her small dig at him. It was good to see that she could
still exert some independence from him. But the one disturbing thing
about the story was what it said about the writer. She had noticed
what her father was doing to her mother and she recognised that it was
wrong. I said as much to Beverley.
"Yes I know. She actually yelled at him the other day to leave me
alone."
"Why? What was he doing to you?" My protective instincts had switched
on. I was getting ready to do the knight to the rescue bit. It's funny
how women can have that effect on me.
"It was nothing Sam, we were just arguing." Bev had a habit of
understating things like that, but I had never seen him hit her and I
had never seen her with bruises or cuts. I guess his abuse was more
mental than anything.
I relaxed myself a bit but I still felt a distinct dislike towards
him. He was supposed to be my friend but the more I got to know him
the less I liked him. I decided to see if I could find out what she
really thought of him.
"He's an arsehole, isn't he?"
"Yes." She emptied her glass and got up. "You want a refill?" she
asked pointing to my glass.
I emptied it and handed it to her.
"Thanks, I think I need another one."
She went to the fridge and got out another bottle of beer. As she
filled the glasses I noticed that she was shaking slightly. She was a
lot more upset than she was letting on. When the glasses were full she
returned to the table and sat down. I picked up my glass and drained
half of it in one gulp. I was going to ask The question and I needed
something to brace myself with. I put the glass down and looked at
her. Damn she was beautiful. The late afternoon sun was streaming in
through the kitchen window and it seemed to lovingly caress her face.
I swallowed and asked the question.
"Why don't you leave him?"
I waited for the indignation, the shouts, and the orders to leave her
house. But that never happened. She just put her glass down and gazed
out the window into the backyard.
"Because I love him."
She said it like a judge passing sentence on a criminal. Pure and
simple fact. She loved him. He treated her like shit. He took her for
granted. He treated their child like an annoyance.
And she loved him.
"Does he love you?"
"He needs me."
"He needs a maid. But does he love you?"
"Does it matter?'
"Christ Bev, of course it matters. He has always used women. I
honestly believe that he has no respect for them."
"Then why does he stay with me?"
"Because you pick up after him. Face it Bev, you have two children
now."
"Sam, stop. Please."
"Bev you have to accept that he is just using you."
"Sam I am asking you to stop."
"But Bev..."
"Enough!" She slammed her glass down on the table, spilling beer as it
sloshed over the rim.
"Okay Bev. I'm sorry, I overstepped my place. Do you want me to
leave?"
"No, please stay. Just don't push me on this okay?"
"Okay." I sipped some more of my beer. I knew I had come close to
being thrown out on my ear. I was about to speak again, to change the
subject in my usual clumsy way when I heard a car door slam outside.
Bev's eyes lit up and she looked more like a schoolgirl than ever. I
heard the front door open and footsteps in the hall. She stood up and
ran to his arms as he walked into the room. I turned to face him and
it was obvious by the look on his face that he was not glad to see me
there.
"Sam," he nodded, acknowledging that I at least had a name.
"Brad," I replied in much the same manner. He turned from me and
kissed Bev. A very passionate kiss which had her melting into his
arms. It would have been a very romantic picture if it weren't for the
fact that he was staring at me while he kissed her. It was a very
disturbing thing to see. They broke and she looked into his eyes.
"I missed you. Did you have a good day at work?"
"Yes I did." He looked at me. "Do you know what that word means Sam?
Work I mean."
"Yeah I think I read about it somewhere." He didn't approve of someone
my age being in college and was not shy in letting me know about it.
"So what have you two been talking about? Me I suppose."
I turned back to my beer to hide my blush of embarrassment. Bev
decided the best defence was a good offence and kissed him again.
They kissed for a bit longer then Brad mumbled something to her. I
couldn't hear what it was but I soon figured it out when he took her
by the hand and led her to the bedroom. She looked over her shoulder
at me and seemed almost apologetic.
It wasn't necessary, I understood perfectly. I have done some
incredibly stupid things in the past simply because I loved someone
and assumed that I on turn was loved. Not that I am saying Bev was
stupid, far from it. But when it comes to love we take what we can
get. And I guess that deep down, what the other person really feels
about us doesn't matter. As long as we can believe that somewhere,
deep down inside there is something, anything. It can be enough to
base an entire life on.
I finished my beer and made my way out, down the hallway past the
bedroom door and out into the late afternoon sunshine. I knew I would
be back next Friday and Bev knew it too. We would sit down, drink our
beers and chat. She would complain about her life and I would listen.
Then I would complain about mine and she would be the one to listen.
That's the way it always has been, and probably always will be. Just
two lost souls crying on each other's shoulder. I hitched my backpack
onto my back and walked home.
Stories now available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_slot/
Web site at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_slot/www
It's always funny till someone gets hurt...
and then it's absolutely friggin hysterical
--- Running with scissors.
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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