Surviving the Divorce - Chapter 1 

As divorces go, mine wasn't exactly one for the record books.  We 
managed to settle things without getting the lawyers involved for 
anything except using the right words on the papers.  That's not to say 
there was no rancor or hurt feelings - there was plenty of each on both 
sides.  Over the last few years, though, we had gotten so used to 
avoiding conflict, simply because it was too draining, that we just let 
most things slide.

I didn't really want anything out of the property except my clothes and 
other things that she would never have a use for, so we agreed that 
since she had a good paying job, and I was unemployed, she would buy my 
half of the house in lieu of paying alimony.

I packed all of my worldly belongings into the trunk and back seat of 
the car that had always been 'mine', and moved to a motel with a DSL 
hookup. A few days later, my old friend from college replied to my email 
telling her about the divorce by inviting me to come to San Francisco 
and stay with her.

Dolores was an attractive hispanic lady, and even after all those years 
her eyes and figure could set a man on fire. Somehow though, we fit 
better as friends than lovers.  Oh, we had enjoyed sex together, off and 
on, but the spark was never there.  We weren't in love, but we had, 
almost from the beginning, been able to talk to each other about almost 
anything.

We stayed in touch after college, through her marriage and divorce, and 
now mine, and it was only natural that we would once again gravitate 
toward each other.

The drive up from San Diego, except for getting through L.A., was 
relaxing and gave me time to think, and to clear my head.  I guess I had 
been in a funk ever since my ex and I decided to go our separate ways.

I think I might have felt better about it had one of us cheated on the 
other, but, like the rest of our humdrum, middle-class, suburban lives, 
our break up was just plain old boredom.  We just got tired of each 
other, and nothing seemed to be able to break us out of the doldrums.

So here I was, an overweight, middle-aged man with a car, a computer, 
some clothes, a little money in the bank, and little else. No job, no 
home, no prospects.

Dolores welcomed me with open arms, and her fourteen-year-old daughter 
gave up her Nintendo room with good grace.

I had no sooner gotten all my stuff put in some semblance of order, than 
Dolores lined me up with an interview at her company.  The interview 
went well, and Dolores' recommendation tipped the scales in my favor. I 
got the job.  It may not have been my dream job, but it paid well and 
was a damn sight better than the one I had been laid off from.

Of course, I offered to move out, since I could now afford my own place, 
even at San Francisco rates, but Dolores wouldn't hear of it.  Her 
daughter Felicia and I had hit it off fairly well, too, and she seconded 
her mother's insistence that I stay, so I made myself at home and 
pitched in where I could, money and housework-wise.

The first thing I did was buy a membership in a local gym - one where 
people went to exercise, not to meet other people.  The second thing I 
did was to buy a bicycle.  It was about ten miles from Dolores' place to 
work, and there was a shower at work.  I rode to work and back every day 
that it didn't rain, and on the way back, I stopped at the gym.

Getting back in shape became almost a religion with me, and steadily, I 
firmed up and my spare tire began losing air.  I doubted if I'd ever 
have those 'six-pack' abs they talk about on TV, but I was starting to 
look pretty good.  I know, because both Dolores' and Felicia's eyes 
lingered longer on my body these days.

One night, after a late dinner, Dolores invited me into her bed.  Since 
the only sex I had had since the divorce had been with my right hand, I 
was more than happy to accept.  It was almost like taking up where we 
had left off in college.  The sex was just as it had always been - 
having sex with an old friend. It was pleasant and easy, but hardly 
mind-blowing.

Afterward, we talked.  In college, sex had been the prelude to some of 
our deepest conversations.  I suppose, in our own way, Dolores and I 
loved each other, but neither was what the other wanted in a spouse.

"So, Gary, am I as good as your ex?" Dolores had always asked these 
kinds of loaded questions, only from her, they weren't the trap they had 
been when my wife asked them. Still, one does answer such questions 
carefully.

"I've always been honest with you, Dolores," I replied, "and I hope 
that's still what you want."

She smiled warmly and nodded.

"Well, my ex gave better blowjobs," I said, "but I think that was 
because she didn't much care for the rest of it.  She never really had 
much interest in sex, so there were only a couple of positions allowed, 
and it was usually more like masturbating with her body than having a 
sex partner, so in that regard, you're much better."

Dolores gave me that smile that let me know she understood both what I 
had said and what I hadn't.

"That's what I like about you, Gary." she said, "You don't feel like you 
have to lie to me. So tell me, if you could design a woman to be your 
ideal sex partner, what would she be like?"

I thought for a long time on that one, collecting bits and pieces from 
some of my favorite fantasies.

"She'd be adventurous, and have absolutely no guilt or moral hangups 
about sex, in any form." I said, "I don't mean she'd have to like 
everything I do, but she wouldn't judge me for what I enjoy, and 
wouldn't be ashamed to get me to help with what she likes.  Oh yeah, and 
she'd have a toy collection that she'd use freely on me as well as on 
herself!"

"Not a good Catholic girl like me, huh?" Dolores waved away my protests, 
"Hey, I know I'm not your dream lover Gary, and you're not mine.  It's 
the fact that we both recognize that and don't let it come between us 
that makes us friends. But wait a minute. You said she'd have toys that 
she'd use on you as well as herself? What do you mean by that?"

I blushed a little, but decided if I couldn't share this with Dolores, I 
couldn't share it with anybody.

"Well, like I said," I replied, "she'd be adventurous, and part of being 
adventurous is trying things besides vanilla and chocolate.  I don't 
know.  I wouldn't mind trying some D/S or even bondage games, or maybe 
some dildo play.  You know: kinky stuff."

Dolores looked thoughtful for a minute.

"What if she wanted to strap on one of those dildos and fuck you in the 
ass?" she asked, gazing at me intently, "What if she wanted you to be 
the woman sometimes?"

I had to think about parts of that.

"Well, I don't know how well I could pull off actually trying to be a 
woman, but I've always enjoyed a little ass play, and I think it would 
be sexy as hell to have a woman fuck me in the ass."

"What if she wanted to watch a guy fuck you in the ass?" she asked, 
"What if she wanted you to suck his dick and let him fuck you? Would you 
do that?"

I thought even harder about that one.

"You know," I replied, "it's weird.  I picture myself, one-on-one with a 
guy, and it does nothing for me.  But add a sexy woman, at whose request 
I'm doing it, and I get turned on big time! I don't really know why it's 
that different, but it is. Anyway, that's enough about my dream woman, 
what about you? What does YOUR ideal sex partner look like?"

Dolores got a faraway look in her eye.

"Ah," she said, "I knew that was coming!  Let's just say that my ideal 
sex partner is hung like a stud horse, has the stamina of a racehorse, 
and the patience of an elephant, not to mention the sensitivity of a 
woman. Oh, and he's ready to go at the drop of a hat, but not ready to 
cum until I am."

"Well," I replied, smiling, "that kind of explains why I never quite 
rang your chimes! But hey, what about a woman?  Maybe one with a big, 
fat dildo?  A runner, or cyclist maybe, for the stamina?"

It was her turn to think for a while.

"Actually, I like women as sex partners," she said, "but there's that 
whole plastic cock thing. I prefer the real thing, but at least a 
plastic one doesn't go soft at a critical moment!"

After that, Dolores and I got together for a friendly fuck about once a 
week.  The rest of the time, she seemed preoccupied. Felicia, on the 
other hand, made it her daily chore to tease me as much as she possibly 
could.

We both knew there was no way I was going to betray Dolores by making a 
pass at her underage daughter, but we were open enough about the teasing 
that I would comment on it in front of her mother.  Dolores mostly just 
smiled, though occasionally she'd make a comment of her own.

"Felicia!" she said one day, "If you absolutely HAVE to bend over and 
show Gary your cute little ass, at least wear something a little more 
modest than that thong! He's not Superman you know!"

Felicia had the grace to blush and said, "Okay, mom!"

As she left the room, the little tart gave me a wink over her shoulder. 
That night, you could hear the headboard banging against the wall 
halfway down the block as Dolores took pity on me and let me blow off a 
little steam.

"Damn!" she said, when, finally, I rolled off her, my limp dick slapping 
wetly against my thigh, "I'll have to buy my daughter some more thongs 
and mini-skirts!"

"Please don't do that, Dolores!" I begged, "I'm not a child-molester, 
and God knows, the last thing I want to do is go after your daughter 
after all that you've done for me, but if she teases me much more, I'm 
going to be climbing the walls!"

"I was kidding, Gary!" she chided, "I'll talk to her.  It's just that 
since you got back into shape, you're quite a hunk, and she loves that 
she can turn you on.  She probably wouldn't mind you coming on to her, 
either, but I hope you won't. That would be the end of a beautiful 
friendship!"

"I'm not crazy, Dolores." I replied, "I guess I like looking as much as 
she likes showing it to me, but I'm not going to do anything to 
jeopardize our friendship.  I do appreciate you taking the pressure off 
now and then, however."

"Well, maybe I won't have to for much longer." Dolores said, "There's 
somebody I want you to meet.  I'm not usually in the matchmaking 
business, but something tells me you two were made for each other!"

"Come on Dolores!" I said, "The ink's not even dry on my divorce papers 
yet and you're trying to get me hooked up with a new wife?"

"No," she laughed, "I just know you both, and I think you could have 
some fun together.  Hell, you might actually wind up liking each other! 
Just give it a try! What have you got to lose except the blue balls my 
daughter keeps giving you?"

So it was arranged.  Patricia, it turned out, had actually been Dolores' 
lover for a while, shortly after her divorce, and they were still good 
friends. Dolores, taking her matchmaking role seriously, sent Felicia 
off to a friend's house for the evening, that Friday, and cooked a 
delicious meal for the three of us.

I'm kind of partial to small women, so Patricia's five-seven or so was a 
little taller than my tastes run, but everything else about her, 
physically, fell well within the 'acceptable' range of parameters. 
Several of those parameters fell well within the 'WOW!' range!

She was everything Victoria's Secret looked for in their models with a 
certain extra something - an air of refinement - that set her apart from 
the crowd. Better yet, she was witty, and I fell quickly in love with 
her off-beat sense of humor. As Barbara Walters once said, "I never met 
anyone who was both funny and stupid."  Patricia provided further 
evidence of that.

Over dinner we conversed on a wide variety of topics and I found her to 
be well read and thoughtful in her interpretation of what she read. 
Furthermore, if we strayed onto subject matter with which she wasn't 
familiar, she asked penetrating, well thought out questions. I hope I 
acquitted myself as well as she did, for, just as often, the subject 
matter had me at a loss, and I floundered, grasping for enough 
information to at least stay engaged.

It wasn't until the end of the meal that I realized it had been 
delicious, and as I turned to thank Dolores, I found her rising from the 
table with a satisfied smile on her face.

"I'm tired and think I'll go to bed early." Dolores said, though I could 
see she was not the least bit tired, "Why don't you two continue your 
conversation in the living room? I'll clean this mess up tomorrow!"

Well, we actually continued our conversation over the cleanup. For 
probably the first time in my life I didn't find it a chore. Our 
dialogue continued as I washed and she dried, and when we did retire to 
the living room, it was with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses.

To make a long story slightly less long, in the wee hours of the 
morning, I drove Patricia (she never used a short form of her name, 
which seemed, somehow, fitting) to her place.  Our goodnight kiss curled 
my toes, and though she begged off inviting me in, she gave me her 
number and practically begged me to call. That was totally unnecessary, 
of course, but it felt wonderful to have this unforgettable woman 
pleading with me to be sure I called. I promised, sincerely and 
repetitively that I would, and just to prove my sincerity, gave her my 
business card with my cell phone number scrawled on the back.

"I can't remember when I've had a more memorable evening, Patricia." I 
said, holding her hands, "And lo and behold, the entire evening and..." 
I glanced at my watch, "...a good part of the morning have passed 
without me talking about my divorce or my ex.  I would really like to 
try for an encore."

Patricia smiled and looked up at me, her blonde coiffure slightly less 
neat than at the beginning of the evening, but still elegant, and said, 
"As would I, Gary! I'm free next weekend. If you'll call during the 
week, I'll take you up to the wine country and show you around. How does 
that sound?"

"Marvelous!"

We kissed again, and the promise in those delectable lips had me 
trembling with anticipation as I drove back to Dolores' place.

Dolores finally tired of my thanking her and said, "Okay! Enough 
already! Look, Gary, I'm glad you and Patricia hit it off so well, but I 
have to tell you that she's very special to me, and if you EVER do 
anything to hurt her, I'll come down on you like a ton of bricks! Got that?"

"You know," I mused, "I thought I loved my wife, but I NEVER felt like 
this about her. Frankly, it scares me to death.  I feel like a kid with 
a crush on his teacher, for God's sake! One thing I CAN tell you, 
though, is that I would never consciously do anything to hurt Patricia, 
okay?"

"I know." Dolores said, stroking my cheek, "You've always worn your 
heart on your sleeve, Gary, but try to hold back a little until you get 
to know her better. I don't want you getting hurt either."

I wasn't sure I could do that, and somewhere at the back of my mind, I 
knew she was right.  If this didn't work out, I was going to be 
devastated.  'Ah well', I thought, 'It's worth the risk.'

I arrived at work a little early Monday morning, changed out of my 
cycling clothes, showered, and rushed to my desk.  I was reaching for 
the phone to call Patricia when I noticed the message light blinking. 
Cursing under my breath, I figured I'd better check for messages from my 
boss before I made my personal calls.

"Hello, Gary." her sultry voice poured silkily from my voicemail box, 
"It's Saturday evening, and I know you're not at work, but I couldn't 
wait to tell you what a wonderful time I had last night.  I can't wait 
for this weekend! Call me when you get this!"

My fingers trembled as I punched the buttons on the phone, and I waited 
with bated breath as I heard the ringback from her phone.

"Collins residence." a male voice answered, "How may I assist you?"

Shit! Was there a husband or boyfriend no one had bothered to tell me 
about? To hell with it! I was determined not to let this put me off.

"Um, yeah, uh, this is Gary Travis." I fumbled, "Is Ms. Collins available?"

"One moment, Mr. Travis." the voice replied, "Miss Collins is expecting 
your call."

"She certainly is!" Patricia's voice cut in, "Thank you, Edgar. I have it."

"Very good, Miss Collins." Edgar said, then a click and he was gone.

"Was that...?" I started to ask, trying not to sound too jealous.

"My butler, Edgar." she laughed, "Why? Did you think I was married or 
something?"

"I most passionately hoped not!" I replied, "Wait a minute! Butler? You 
have a butler?"

"Yes," her laugh tinkled through the phone line, "and a maid, a cook, 
and a chauffeur. Is that a problem?"

"Nnnnnooooo." I replied slowly, "A bit of a surprise, but not a 
problem...  I'm a simple man, Patricia. A beautiful, intelligent woman, 
a nice bottle of wine, and non-stop sex are plenty for me. All I want 
from you is you. Is this going to be a problem?"

"I sincerely hope not, Gary." she replied, "Unfortunately, it's the sort 
of thing that has an awful tendency to manifest itself at most 
inconvenient times. We'll just have to see what the future holds for us."

"Speaking of the future," I said, "I'm looking forward to the weekend. 
I've never been to the wine country, and I can't think of a better way 
to see it than in your company."

"Why don't I pick you up Friday at say, 6:30 at Dolores' house?" she 
said, "In fact, it would be great if you could take Monday off, as well!"

"I've only worked here for about six months," I answered, "so I'm not 
sure they'll give me the time off, but I'll ask."

"Oh," she said lightly, "I've got a hunch that they'll give you some 
leeway. I can hardly wait for Friday!"

My boss was an okay guy, but in the six months I'd known him, I'd never 
had any reason to suspect that he looked favorably on people taking 
unscheduled time off, especially if they hadn't yet earned any vacation 
time. That's why it came as a shock when he insisted that I take both 
Monday and Tuesday, and not to worry about logging the time.

The week passed like a snail on a bed of nails. I talked with Patricia 
on the phone nearly every day, and somehow, we never seemed to run out 
of things to talk about.

Friday finally rolled around, and I thought about driving to work for a 
change, but realized I'd get home quicker on the bike, since I could 
work my way through traffic jams I'd just have to wait out in the car. I 
was panting and sweating by the time I got to Dolores' place, and had to 
cool off some before I showered.

By the time I was ready - I guessed that a nice golf shirt and Dockers 
would be appropriate - Felicia was standing at the front window keeping 
watch for me.  I had just finished brushing my teeth and putting a few 
clothes in a bag for the weekend when she came running into the bedroom 
shouting: "She's here! Shoot! You're dressed!"

She gave me a wink and a grin as she left.

I guess I should have expected it, but I was taken aback when I walked 
out to find a long stretch limousine with a uniformed chauffeur holding 
the back door open.  Patricia smiled up at me from its interior.

"Oh my!" I quipped, as I slid into the leather of the broad rear seat, 
"Yours is definitely bigger than mine!"

"Not by too much, I hope!" she answered. I thought it a little odd, 
since I was talking about the car, but smiled. I did say she had a 
quirky sense of humor, didn't I?