It is the story of Paula and spans close to twelve years in Paula’s life. 1983 to 2005. And the story is a prequel. Read to the end to see more information where the story continues by the original author.
My characters are often flawed, and like real life, my stories are a shitshow, like life.
One more thing, you are on an erotica site reading smut. The last thing we need to hear is your morals and judgementalism. What are you doing here reading smut then trashing the writers, and characters on moral grounds? How “moral” is that?
I moderate comments. Make any derogatory or violent comments, lie about the story content to influence readers, or give me a lecture on morality, and your comment is gone.
You need to read parts 01, and 02 first. It’s complicated.
It is a 4 part story
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Part III
Ch… ch… ch… changes!
Four years later, Ft. Lauterdale 1994
I was visiting my parents with the kids and had left them over at my parent’s next door, so Marisol and I could catch up. Patty was ten and Ben just a year behind her by this point. They had their individual personalities and looked forward to two weeks with their grandparents. My parents loved the chance to spoil their only grandchildren. What with the school year over and summer break an excuse to play and have fun, my parents proceeded to spoil my kids rotten. I allowed it as I thought both the children and my parents deserved the experience. And I needed the break.
“What’s going on with you, girlfriend?” Marisol said after the two of us hugged. “I haven’t seen you in a year.”
“I know,” I replied, returning the hug to my old neighbor and past lover. “Things have been hectic. How is Garry?”
Marisol’s husband had been my first, some eleven years back. My first man that is. Marisol, his wife, had been my first woman. Oh, those were the days!
“He is doing well. He is probably balls deep in his latest conquest,” Marisol feigned indignation as we laughed. “Some woman a few blocks away that you’ve never met.”
“Somethings never change, do they?” I giggled, sitting across from her in their kitchen.
“We make it work,” Marisol smiled. “And how is conventional married life working out for you?”
Knowing how I had embraced sexual freedom before meeting Paul, Marisol had warned me that my husband might not allow it – that his ways would make me unhappy. But I had ignored her advice as people in love do, discounting issues that required rational thinking over raw emotions.
“The kids are good. And I finally got my real estate license,” I replied with a sigh. “But, things are not going well with Paul.”
“What’s wrong? Is he having an affair?”
“I wish,” I replied.
“He is not sick is he?”
“I thought he might be, but he is still healthy as far as I can tell.”
“What then?”
“He quit his job at the paper,” I said, sitting back.
“What! No way,” Marisol said in surprise. “I thought he liked being a reporter.”
“So did I. It was all he talked about when we met. Being a reporter… a journalist was all Paul wanted then.”
“What happened?” Marisol asked with concern.
“I don’t know, and he won’t tell me. Lord knows I’ve been asking the last few years. He used to come home and talk to me about the stories he was working on — the leads and the contacts he had made. Then he stopped.”
“Just like that?”
“It started slowly, so I didn’t realize it at first. But when I noticed and pressed him, Paul said it was nothing. Before I knew it, discussing work was off-limits. Then last month, he told me that he found a job as a public relations guy for some college and had quit the paper. No discussion, nothing.”
“Wow! I don’t think Garry would ever stop being a cop, but if he quit without talking to me first, I would be pretty pissed,” she said before looking at me apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to toss fuel to the fire.”
“You’re not Marisol,” I replied, realizing how much I needed to unburden myself to someone. “I’m already irritated with my husband.”
To be honest, I had gone home with the excuse that I wanted the kids to see their grandparents. But in reality, I did so to get away from Paul and talk to the one true friend I had.
“I needed someone to talk to. The only friend I had in Jacksonville is gone now.”
“That neighbor, Lynn, right?”
“Yeah, her,” I said, shaking my head.
“That doesn’t sound good. What happened between you two?”
“Not between us, Marisol. Between Lynn and her husband.”
“And that caused problems with you and Paul?”
“In a way it did. It all happened over a two-and-a-half-year period, and we were there for them for most of it.”
“What happened?” Marisol asked as she poured us some coffee.
“They were having problems. Apparently, drifting apart as Gil, her husband, was focused on this patent he was working on in computer science. It eventually happened, and he got semi-rich from it, but it cost them their marriage.”
“Money messes with people’s heads. Doesn’t it?” Marisol stated more than asked.
“Well, they broke up before the money came along. He spent so much time away from her – and then didn’t want them to have kids. Lynn did, but he kept postponing it.”
Her expression showed that she understood the storyline, almost like a book she had read, but Marisol waited for me to continue.
“So Lynn, our neighbor, was at a house party and met the son of the hostess. He was then a premed student at UF in Gainsville.”
“Isn’t that where you guys went to college?” meaning Paul and I.
“Yeah, it’s not that far from Jacksonville. But Lynn fell in lust with this kid.”
“Lust. How quaint. How old is she?”
“Thirty-three now. She was thirty-one when she fell on his dick.”
“How romantic,” Marisol scoffed. “So she had an affair. Typical suburban wife experience. She won’t be the first or last.”
“Yes,” I replied. “Very typical. Typically conventional and basic they both were. Not only did she cheat on her husband, but she had this stupid notion in her head that it could not possibly be just for the sex. It had to be love.”
“It wasn’t?” Marisol snickered.
“Hardly. The kid was a college student who had a nice piece of ass show interest in him. That was all he wanted,” I replied. “And that was all she was to him.”
“Sounds like a great deal for a summer affair,” Marisol smirked, knowing there was more to the story and letting me continue.
“Lynn should have been honest with herself to admit that she was just a bored housewife looking for some attention and cheap thrills. That was all it was.”
“I have all that, and I don’t have to hide from Garry,” Marisol said. “Only I know where and to whom I belong to after the moaning and groaning are over.”
“You’re so bad,” I smiled back at her.
“You know it, babe,” Marisol pursed her lips at me, then chuckled. “I still do your dad, you know.”
“Too much information, Marisol,” it being my turn to feign indignation. “Next thing you’ll tell me, Garry is stumping my mom.”
“Every Friday,” Marisol nodded with a smirk. “We get together to play cards, but it’s strip poker and swapping we end up playing.”
“I’m so fuckin jealous, Marisol.”
“You are in a trap of your own doing,” she replied, giving me a speak to the hand gesture with an open palm. “I warned you.”
“I know,” I sighed, knowing she had been right.
Her caution years ago about how Paul was not the type to agree to an open marriage or even simple spouse swapping had been clear. And I had ignored it, thinking I could bring Paul around.
“So, your friends, what happened?” Marisol changed the topic seeing my unhappy reaction to talk of Paul.
“So the stupid bitch convinced herself that it had to be love. Sex to break her boredom is not what ‘good girls’ like her do.”
“Bullshit,” Marisol spat out. “These uppity twats think that sex for just sex is what sluts or whores do. Not them. They delude themselves that they are above that when they lift their skirts for some strange dick.”
“Exactly. We’ve talked about this before,” I agreed and continued. “She was typical all right. So she ran off telling Gil, our neighbor, that she was in love and had to go be with her true soulmate.”
“Did she really say that?” Marisol asked, then made a gagging sound when I nodded yes to her. “I’m going to barf.”
“It would be funny if it weren’t sad,” I said because there was more.
“She did this Gil guy a favor,” Marisol said, pointing her finger at the table.
“He didn’t think so,” I replied.
“Ain’t love grand? Let me guess. He couldn’t live without her. Then he went back and forth from loving her one minute to hating her the next.”
“You got it,” I replied, remembering the entire event as if it happened yesterday.
“Typical reaction of basics. What then?”
“Oh, it gets better. Worse actually. She dumped him in 92, right? Then she came back almost a year ago and begged Gil to take her back.”
“No way!”
“Oh yes way. And Lynn brought someone along.”
“Who?”
“Her little boy. The student’s boy. The same student who tossed her out and wanted nothing to do with her. So much for true love and soulmates.”
“Serve the bitch right,” Marisol said. “Shame that her child has no father and a moron for a mother.”
“So true, but things almost worked out for a while.”
“How?”
“Gil took her back.”
“Wow! He did?” Marisol asked in surprise. “That was nice of him.”
I raised a finger in a there is more gesture and expression. To which Marisol waved me on to continue.
“Yes. Her and the kid both. They were with him for some time. Then one day, he just up and tossed her out. Both her and the little boy.”
“I bet that got his manhood back,” Marisol shook her head.
“No. His ego got the best of him,” I replied, shaking my head. “The poor child was not at fault, but the first time the kid called him daddy, Gil flipped out and threw them out. Lynn was crying, banging on the door with just a robe on. The poor child was crying too. Oh, it was a mess.”
“I get it. She did him dirty,” Marisol said with a sad look. “But why do that to the poor child?”
“Spite, revenge, you pick from the above,” I replied. “I had to go get Lynn and the boy and bring them into our house. I couldn’t leave them out there. And this is where the shit hit the fan.”