TITLE    : What Exactly Do You Propose?
STORYID  : what-exactly-do-you-propose
SUMMARY  : Why don't we go to your place and fuck our brains out?
AUTHOR   : Ephesus14@lit
DATE     : 2021-01-02
CATEGORY : loving-wives
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |cheating wife|cheating wives|loving wife|loving wives|


Thank you to my good friend Helen for reading and commenting on the story. Blackrandl1958, you are wonderful as always.



There is little graphic sex in this story.



<strong>What exactly do you propose? ...</strong> Why don't we go to your place and fuck our brains out?



Janice was home. I heard her car pull in and the garage door close. When she came in I expected to hear the usual litany of complaints. That had been missing for about six weeks.



"Hey, good day?" I asked.



"Yes, just the usual," she said.



"Dr. Douchebag in a good mood?"



She shot me a look. For a while, I had heard nothing but complaints. According to Janice, he was the biggest tyrant on the planet. She was a dental assistant, and his constant degrading of her and her work was all she had talked about.



"He's changed," she said.



That was odd. In my experience, people seldom change much. I put it out of my mind. I came to regret that.



I am a veterinarian who works mostly with horses. My office is my pick-up truck and trailer that is always attached to it. Bryan Lucas is my name. My wife's name is Janice, and we've been married six years. She is a dental assistant, and to listen to her, her boss is the biggest tyrant on earth. She has worked for him for almost seven months and has had nothing good to say about him.



We are in the middle of Virginia horse country so there is no lack of business for me, and I rarely have to travel outside of a fifty mile radius to service my customers. I've worked with all kinds of horses, from $50 plugs to multimillion dollar champions. I have my favorite breeds and my least favorite. My least favorite is appaloosas. I've always found them to be hardheaded and contrary. There is a joke that says that Indians used to ride appaloosas when they were going to fight a battle because they wanted to be mad as hell when they got there and riding appaloosas accomplished that.



I like paint horses. The terms "paint" and "pinto" are both sometimes used to describe paint horses, but American Paint Horse is actually the breed, and they tend to be gentle and trainable.



My favorite, however, are Arabians. They tend to have a bad reputation among those who don't know them, but I've always found they are loyal and will do anything to try to make you happy.



It doesn't really matter what the breed is; the bottom line is what makes the owner happy. I had a trainer once who told me that the best thing for the inside of a man was the outside of a horse.



So, I loved my job, and for the most part, my owners.



My wife, on the other hand, hated her job and her boss, and for the first couple of weeks came home crying every night. I asked her several times why she stayed, and her answer was always that she couldn't find another job as a dental assistant in our small town, so she stuck it out. After six weeks or so, her complaints stopped, so I figured things had improved.



One of my horse owners had a brother who owned some high dollar horses on his farm about a hundred miles from us. His regular vet was on vacation and his most important horse needed some attention. The horse was the farm stud and his sperm was valuable, so he needed to get well, quickly, and he asked me to come out.



As I was pulling in, a man was getting into his beautiful green Mercedes-Benz. The license plate read SMILE. I shook hands with the horse owner and commented on the Mercedes.



"Yeah, he's from your part of the country, actually. He's a dentist looking to buy his first horse. He has some 'horsey' friends and they're trying to convince him to own one or two. He was out here last weekend with his girlfriend and they actually sat on horses for the first time. Today he looked some more, tried to build up his courage and took a short ride around the show ring. I put him on my most gentle mare and he was okay. He's bringing his girlfriend back next Saturday morning and they're both going to ride."



"Well, good for him, but he doesn't look or act like a horse owner to me. I think I'd feel sorry for the horse."



We both laughed. "You should have seen them last week. They came out really dressed like dudes. New boots, new jeans, fancy new cowboy shirts and brand new great big cowboy hats. They were hysterical. It was so bad my wife sneaked and took their picture."



"Enough about dudes. Where's your horse?" I asked.



He took me to the big, fancy barn and the huge stall his stud was in. It didn't take long to diagnose impaction colic which was remedied in pretty short order with a rubber hose and about a gallon of mineral oil. I was cleaning up after the process when the owner came out.



"How much do I owe you?" he asked.



I told him and he gave me a check. He also showed me the picture his wife took of the dentist the previous week. I looked and laughed until I saw his girlfriend. She was my wife. Janice. She was wearing pink cowgirl boots, a pink cowgirl hat and a shirt with lots of fringe on the sleeves. Two weeks before she told me she was going to the cowboy wedding of one of her college friends. She was gone from Friday afternoon until Sunday evening.



My trip home surreal. I have no idea how I kept from killing myself or someone else. It was late when I got there and she was watching TV in the den. She stood when I walked in and came to hug and kiss me which was our normal routine. That time, I walked around her and upstairs to the shower. After my shower, I went right to bed.



She came in. "Are you all right? Aren't you hungry?"



"I'm tired."



She took the hint and left. I didn't sleep that night or the next. She tried to talk, but everytime she started, I would either leave or blatantly ignore her, which pissed her off. It was Wednesday when she told me she would be gone for the weekend. Her excuse that time was the girls from the office were having a "get away from the boss" weekend.



"When do you leave and when do you get back?" I asked.



"We leave Friday and back Sunday?"



"How many are going?"



"Four."



"Where are you going?"



She stared at me. "Why all the questions?"



"Is your boss going?"



"That's an absurd question. I just told you it's a 'get away from the boss' weekend."



"And your husband as well." I paused. "I don't want you to go?"



"Why?"



"Because I don't. You were gone two weekends ago, and I want you to stay home."



"Well, I'm not. I promised the girls and I'm going."



"Janice, I've never flat out told you not to do something, but I am this time. You're not going."



Her face turned bright red.



"I'm what? Not going? You're forbidding me from going?"



"I am."



"Oh, no you're not Mr. Dictator. I'm going and you can't stop me." She went to the bedroom and slammed the door hard enough to shake the whole house. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked so I slept in the guestroom. The next morning she was gone, as was her makeup case, travel case, and, I assume some of her clothes. I went to her computer and looked at her contacts. Under John C. Stennis was listed three phone numbers and an address. Stennis was her boss. I recognized the first number as her office number.



I drove to their office and both his and her cars were there. I decided to go to his house later in the day.



I was at his house at three just as they were getting out of their cars and taking her overnight case in. They stopped at the top of the steps and he opened the door for her. They kissed just as she entered, and he followed. I hoped my photos turned out okay.



I wasn't a mile away when I dialed his second number.



"Hello?"



"Mrs. Stennis?"



"Who are you and why do you want to know?"



"My name is Bryan Lucas. My wife is one of your husband's assistants. I believe they are having an affair."



"Mr. Lucas, I have no idea who you are, but I assure you I don't believe you."



"He spent two weekends ago looking for a horse. He did the same thing this past Saturday, and he's doing it again this weekend."



"That doesn't mean he's having an affair."



"My wife spent the first weekend with him and I've seen a picture to prove it. It doesn't show them having sex, but it shows them together. She will be with him this weekend as well."



"That's pretty weak, Mr. Lucas."



"I agree. So are the photos I just took of them going into your house together and kissing at the door. I was surprised he took her in your house."



"I'm not at my house."



"Well maybe you should go there."



"I can't. I'm with my parents and won't be home until tomorrow evening."



"I can almost guarantee you they will be together on Saturday and I will confront them."



"Wait a minute. Let's talk."



Our conversation lasted about five more minutes. On Saturday morning, Mrs. Stennis and I watched the green Mercedes drive up to the barn it had been to twice before. Both Dr. Stennis and Janice got out and were met by the horse owner. He had two horses saddled and ready in the show ring. The three of them walked to the horses, petted and stroked them before stepping on the small ladder the owner provided for them to climb up into their saddles.



They were astride their horses standing side by side. Janice took her phone, handed it to the owner. "Would you take our picture, please?"



"Of course."



He snapped three or four of them leaning into each other and kissing. Mrs. Stennis and I snapped the same photos.



"Could you do that one more time, please, Janice? The last one I took is a little blurry." I said.



The two of them almost fell off their horses.



"Bryan? Wha ...? Wha ...? What are you doing here?"



"Mrs. Stennis and I were just passing by and happened to see you." I turned to Mrs. Stennis. "Have you seen enough?"



"I have. Shall we go?"



About four hours later, I was sitting in our den at home going through some papers. Janice came in and sat. "I'm moving out," she declared.



"Where're you going?"



"He has a small cottage on a lake. I'm moving there."



"When?"



"I'm starting now. I just thought you should know."



"You thought I should know about you moving out, but not about you fucking him?" She stood. "Before you go, why don't you tell me how your affair started? I thought you hated him."



She sat again. "I did, but things started to change. He constantly ridiculed my work. Nothing I did was good enough, and he did it in front of the patients and other staff. The others told me he was like that, but would get better; and he did.



"After a month or so of criticism, he started complimenting me, Everything I did was perfect and I was happy. Then it was my clothes. He hated everything I wore, even though it was covered with my lab coat. It was either too long, too short, too bright, or just too ugly. This went on for another month and I was in tears all day."



I remembered that period. She seemed to spend a ton of money on clothes and was never happy with what she had. She might wear something one time and return it, and at other times she would return it without wearing it. I never knew you could return something after having used it, but apparently you could.



She continued. "Then he started complimenting them. This was sexy. That was lovely. I looked forward to dressing to make him happy and considered my day a success if he liked what I wore. He even started asking me about my underthings. What color were they? Were they lacy? Things like that.



"Then he wanted to see them. I was thrilled the first time he wanted to see my bra."



"Your tits seem bigger today." He said. "What kind of bra are you wearing?"



I told him, but he wanted to see it. I took a deep breath and opened my blouse. He smiled which caused my knees to go weak. Then he touched the strap and put his fingers under it and moved his hand up and down the few inches he could, but the backs of his fingers touching my skin gave me bumps and my pussy started to throb.



"Very nice," he said, "but it's too big. Wear a smaller one tomorrow. One that has to squeeze your tits into the cups. And wear a blouse where I can see more cleavage."



"The next day I did exactly that. He smiled at me all day and once he actually touched my left breast. It looked like an accident, but I knew it was on purpose. After work he asked me into his office."



"Lock the door," he ordered. I did. He came up to me and announced "I'm going to fuck you."



"My knees almost buckled and I couldn't breathe. I just stood there. Until then I had never even considered cheating on you, but I knew I was going to. I was going to let him do whatever he wanted."



She took a deep breath. "Take off your clothes," he demanded. Off came my blouse and skirt. "On your knees," he demanded again. He lowered his trousers and stroked his dick a couple of times. "Suck it." I opened my mouth and sucked it in. I felt it grow in my mouth. From that soft piece of flesh to the hard tool that my pussy was yearning for, I sucked it moving my head back and forth as if he were fucking my face. Then he started moving as well and he was fucking my mouth. He stuck his hand into my bra and fondled and squeezed my tits. It took just a couple of minutes for him to cum. When he did, I swallowed it. All of it. He pulled his dick out of my mouth and wiped it on my cheek."



"Get dressed," he said.



"I thought you were going to fuck me."



"Maybe after you learn to give a decent blow job. Until then, I will just let you blow me."



My wife stopped for a few minutes as I just looked at her. She looked back at me with never a sign of remorse; she was just answering my question. She went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of water and sat again, in total control.



"When did he fuck you for the first time?" I asked.



"Later that week. It was after work again." She sipped her water. "He told me to get naked and I did. He told me to lie on the sofa he had there and I did.



"Spread your legs," he demanded. I spread them. "Now your pussy lips."



"I reached down with my hands and spread my pussy lips open. I could feel my juices pouring out of me. He pulled down his trousers and shorts leaving on his shirt, tie, shoes, and socks. In my mind's eye I could see how cheap it looked, but I didn't care. He wanted to fuck me and I wanted to be fucked. I came the instant his dick was in me. I shuddered and shook like I was freezing, but the opposite was true. I was on fire. My face was red hot and my pussy felt like it had smoke and flames coming out of it. He pumped no more than a dozen times and he shot. When you come in me, I can feel it actually shooting out of you, but with him, there was nothing. After a few seconds he stood, put on his trousers and left. I lay there wanting, needing more, so I moved my hand to my pussy and started finger fucking myself for release."



"How many times have you fucked him?" I asked.



"That first time, then one weekend, and this last time. Maybe a total of five or six."



"Was it ever any good?"



"No. but I couldn't resist him. Even knowing it wasn't going to be good, I couldn't resist him."



"And still you are leaving me to go live with him?"



"Yes."



"Why?"



"I can't help myself."



I stood and walked to her. "You need professional help. There's something wrong with you."



"No I don't. I'm fine. You're just jealous." That was the first time I saw any anger from her."



"You called me Mr. Dictator, yet you do everything this man asks you to do and you do it without question. There's something wrong with that."



With that she left to start packing.



I sat there in a daze. My wife just took me through what I thought was a perfect mind control experience. I say that never having had any experience with either mind control or brainwashing, but in my mind, I thought that mind control was beyond the ability of the victim to change because it was gradual and the victim thought they were making their own decisions. Whereas in brainwashing the victim knows the aggressor is an enemy.



It didn't take her long to pack two suitcases and drag them down the hall from the bedroom. We never spoke as she put the suitcases in her car. I went out just as she was backing out of the garage. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked. She nodded. "Janice, I'm begging you to get help. Professional help. You won't be able to live like this."



"Yes. I will. I want to. Goodbye Bryan."



That was that. Later that day, I went to her parent's house and told them the story. Her father was on the phone immediately trying to convince her to come to their house to talk. She refused and wouldn't tell them exactly where the cottage was.



I called Mrs. Stennis and asked her where it was and why I wanted to know. She told me and I told Janice's father. I was torn between trying to get her in therapy or divorce court. The latter was a given because she cheated, but to be manipulated by Dr. Stennis was unconscionable, and I felt some obligation to get help for her.



A week went by and I decided to call her. She answered in tears. When I asked why, she said she hadn't seen him at all except at work and he basically stayed as far away from her as he could. She wore her sexiest clothes and worked her hardest, but he ignored her and she really needed to be fucked even if it was as bad as he fucked her.



"Are you ready to get help?"



"I don't need help, Bryan. I need John to come see me and love me."



"Janice, I think he's shown you that he doesn't even care for you, much less love you. He only wants you when he wants some ass or a blow job."



We talked for a few more minutes and she was still crying when we hung up. I decided to see an attorney.



What I learned was that as long as she wasn't a danger to herself or others, there was nothing we could do unless or until she asked for help.



Realizing my hands were tied, I told him to start divorce paperwork.



A week later, my favorite horse owner was having a show. I was his resident vet, and one of my responsibilities was to inspect the horses as they arrived. Each horse had to have a copy of a "Coggins" which showed they had been blood tested for Equine Infectious Anemia (EIA). It is also called swamp fever. The Coggins included a picture of the horse for identification.



I was standing by the show arena when the biggest, baddest horse trailer I'd ever seen pulled through the gate. It stopped beside me and the driver asked where he should park. I directed him to a big field beside the ring. "I'm the vet and will be over later to check Coggins." I told him.



An hour later I was there. There were four beautiful horses staked outside the trailer munching on hay. Some horses have very delicate digestive systems and when they travel, they have their own hay, grain, and even water. I didn't see the driver I talked to at the gate, but I did see a woman about my age grooming one of the horses, so I introduced myself. She, in turn, did likewise. Her name was Sylvia Jacobson. Jacobson Farms was painted on the side of the trailer.



"I'm pleased to meet you Mrs. Jacobson," I said. "I'm the Vet and I spoke to your- ..."



She didn't let me finish. "The Coggins. Let me get them for you."



It only took a few seconds and she handed them to me. I checked each of the four horses against its' photo and Coggins. She and I never spoke while I worked. Afterwards, we chatted for a while, and I went on to check other horses.



Later that evening the field where everybody parked was alive with music, laughter and the smell of cooking food. The camping area atmosphere was part of the magic of horse shows.



I always enjoyed walking among the people and their campsites. That evening was no exception. As I walked past the Jacobson trailer, I heard my name and stopped. It was Sylvia Jacobson, and she invited me for a hamburger and a beer. One of the reasons I enjoyed walking through the campsites was to be invited to eat with one of the exhibitors; it never failed.



I fixed myself a burger and scooped some potato salad on my plate. She handed me a beer as I sat. She was sitting with a young girl; her daughter, I assumed. We chatted and I got the impression the young girl was the primary rider for the upcoming show. Her cousin would also be riding. Before long, some other young people she knew came over and they all left together. Sylvia (Syl) and I were alone sipping our beers. Her husband came over, picked up a beer, and sat next to Syl. He remembered me, but if he told me his name I had forgotten it. The three of us enjoyed talking about horses, horse shows and horsey people.

<hr pg="2" />It was getting late, so I stood and excused myself for the evening.



Competition began early the next morning so the competitors were up extra early cleaning equipment and grooming horses. I saw Syl about noon. She was watching her daughter in the show ring going through her paces. The kid really knew her way around a horse. She was very disciplined in the saddle.



Syl and I didn't speak until her daughter was finished and the applause started. We walked to where her husband, horse, and daughter were. The husband was going over every move made by the daughter and horse from the time they started into the ring until they left it. He remembered and described every move of every muscle of both horse and rider. I had seen very few mistakes, but he saw lots and he described every one. "You can't win medals like that," he said. He led the horse toward the trailer to cool down and groom. He looked back over his shoulder. "You're scheduled Western on Dandy Dan in twenty minutes in the small ring. Don't be late."



The daughter, whose name was Julie yelled. "Okay, Jimbo. I'll be ready." Some of the competition was English and some was Western. Julie had just finished an English competition.



She smiled at her mother and followed Jimbo.



"Does she always call him Jimbo?" I asked.



Syl grinned. "Only when she's done a good job and they both know it."



"Good? He just raked her over the coals."



"No. They do that all the time. He's just reminding her not to get complacent."



The day was a long one and even continued under the lights. Syl's horses, daughter, and niece did pretty well for themselves winning three firsts, three seconds and a third.



Later I walked through the campground looking for someplace to get another hamburger and beer. I was invited by one of my old friends, so we sat, ate and talked. We had been there a little over an hour when I saw Jimbo walking by holding hands with a woman who, most definitely was not Sylvia Jacobson. I watched as they went into the small trailer next to my friend's trailer. It didn't take long for that trailer to start rocking. That was not an unusual occurrence with small trailers. When two people got naked and started fucking in one, it was like the wide world of rock and roll. Sometimes you'd think the damn thing was going to turn over.



We sat and continued to chat even after the rocking trailer calmed down. Jimbo was carrying his shirt as he came out, kissed the woman, and headed to his trailer without so much as a nod to us.



I didn't know Sylvia Jacobson from the woman in the moon, but no one deserves to be cheated on. My own recent experience showed me that. There were two more days of competition and I avoided Syl the first half of the next day. It was early afternoon and her daughter was in the ring with another of their horses. I was standing by the judge's stand when she walked up and stood by me. Again, neither of us talked until her daughter was finished, and like the last time, we made our way to the ring entrance where Jimbo and Julie were talking.



"We missed you last night," she said. "I was hoping you'd come by for a hot dog, but then I realized there were lots of folks wanting to share hotdogs with you."



"I was with an old friend." I told her, and wanted to tell her more, but couldn't bring myself to do it.



"How about tonight?" she asked. "You could stop by and have something with new friends."



"Love to. What time?"



I was there with a cold six-pack of beer. We opened two cans immediately. It was to be hamburgers again. Julie and her cousin were doing the cooking, and they had half dozen or so friends with them. Syl and I sat and listened to the young people compare notes about riding and horses, but mostly about the cute boy riders who were too shy to talk to them, so they all decided to walk and around and find some boys to talk to.



When they were out of sight, I asked where Jimbo was. "He's out socializing somewhere. He has a lot of friends here even though it's our first time at this show. We know a lot of them from other shows."



"Does he have any friend, or friends, in particular?" I asked.



"He has a couple." She smiled when she said it.



I wanted to change the subject, but couldn't. "How long have you been married?" I asked.



"What?"



"How long have you and Jimbo been married?"



She laughed. "We're not married. He's my trainer. Has been since my husband died when Julie was younger." She paused. "Jimbo is not my type. What made you think we were married?"



"Just seeing him here with you and Julie and he was driving the truck, so I assumed- ..."



"Sorry to disappoint you, but no way, Jose." She paused again and laughed. "You must have seen him with one of his close friends last night. Is that it?"



It was my turn to laugh. "The way her trailer was rocking, you could tell they couldn't have been any closer."



We both laughed. "So does that mean I can ask you to dinner some time?" I asked.



"Of course. If you want to drive a hundred miles for it," she said.



I had completely forgotten she didn't live here and when she mentioned the hundred miles, I remembered Janice and her doctor. I had forgotten all about them, but she hadn't forgotten me.



The alarm went off in the house in the middle of the night. I jumped up and reached in my night stand for the pistol I kept there. I sometimes had several thousand dollars in my house and tended to be cautious, so I had a pistol. I reached but it was gone. I heard movement down the hall, and searched frantically for the gun to no avail. Then I remembered it was in my truck. I headed for the window. Screw the money, my life was more important. I opened the window and just as I was ready to climb out, I heard, "Bryan? Bryan? Are you asleep?"



I stopped with one leg out the window. I stepped back into the room just as the door opened and the light came on. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the window sill. "What are you doing here, Janice?"



"I had no place else to go," she said.



"Why?"



"He fired me and kicked me out of his cabin."



"Nice guy, your doctor. Why didn't you go home?"



"This is my home."



"I'm afraid not. This stopped being your house when you gave Stennis a blow job."



"You can say what you want, but legally I still live here and you're still my husband."



"That might be true from a legal point of view, but reality and legality aren't always the same things."



"Get used to it. I'm staying until the court tells me differently."



She's been talking to some legal eagle. She would never come up with that by herself. I was in my shorts, in my, not our, my, bedroom, and she wouldn't leave. She had one suitcase with her and put it on her dressing table chair, opened it, took out a nightgown I'd never seen, got naked, and put it on. I tried not to watch, but couldn't help myself. Watching a woman get undressed is always hot.



"Where did you get the night gown," I asked. "Buy it for Stennis?"



"Yes, but he never came around to see it."



She climbed into my bed. "Oh, no," I said as I pulled the bottom sheet and she rolled on the floor. "Not in my bed. Sleep in the guest room, but you're not sleeping in my bed."



I literally pushed her out of the room and tossed her bag after her. I stayed awake until I thought she was asleep then I went to the garage and dug out an old doorknob and lock and replaced the one on my bedroom. I didn't sleep the rest of the night. The next day was the last day of the show and I spent most of it with Syl. We were standing by her Lexus late in the evening with Julie and her niece and watched Jimbo pull out with the trailer and horses. It took us another hour to decide it was time for her to leave because we watched everybody else pull out. I opened her door for her and just before she sat, I asked her if she and I could have dinner the following Friday. She smiled and said yes.



We hadn't spent a lot of time together, but the time we did spend was nice. I liked her.



The next morning was Monday and the first thing I did was call my attorney. "She deserted the house once. Why can she change her mind and come back like nothing ever happened?" I asked him.



"Let me ask you a couple of questions," he said. "First, when she left was it against your wishes?"



"Not necessarily. She cheated and said she was moving out. I didn't try to stop her. I did ask her where she was going."



"Okay." he said. "So you agreed to her leaving?"



"Yes, I guess I did."



"Then she didn't desert and can come back. Desertion can only occur when the deserting spouse, which was her, leaves against the wishes of the deserted spouse, which is you. You didn't object. So she didn't desert."



"That makes no sense at all. She cheated so she can do any damn thing she wants to? Come and go as she damn well pleases?"



"Unless you say something like, 'oh, no, please don't go' and she goes anyway, that is basically correct. But it could work that way for you as well. If you decide to leave and she agrees, you can go back."



"I don't need to come back because I never left in the first place."



"Get used to it, Bryan. That's divorce reality."



"Fuck. Okay, keep going with the paperwork anyway."



As I was leaving his office he stopped me. "Any update on her therapy?"



"Nope. Last time I talked to her parents, she was still adamant against it and was still hoping Dr. Stennis was coming to drag her off and live with her."



I had two horses to look after that day but they were just follow up visits, so it didn't take long. I didn't want to go home, but I didn't have a reason to stay away. Besides I was a bit curious, so that's where I went.



She was doing her laundry when I got there. It was mid-afternoon and I hadn't eaten lunch, which was not unusual. When that happened, I had a big meal and nothing later in the evening. I took two frozen chicken Florentine dinners out of the freezer. They were small and when I was hungry, I could eat two and that was my plan. She watched me take them out of the freezer, put them in the microwave, and she set the table for two. She was out of the kitchen when the microwave bell went off. I took both meals, dumped them onto one plate and headed for the livingroom and the TV Set. I also took a beer and left her nicely set table in place.



"I thought we were eating in the kitchen," she said.



"I don't care where you eat." Then I added, "or what."



She went to the kitchen and was back immediately. "I thought one of those was mine."



I said nothing and continued eating. She stormed out, got in her car, and left.



Remembering what my attorney told me, and even with a mouth full of food, I spoke. "Oh, no, don't go. Please come back." I wondered if that would qualify for her being considered as having deserted the house. Wishful thinking I know, but what the hell.



I had showered and was in bed when she came back. The next morning she was waiting for me when I went to the kitchen for coffee. She had hers, and there was a cup for me, but I ignored it and brewed my own.



I took my cup of coffee and went outside to the rear deck. She came out almost immediately. "All right. That's enough. No more childish bullshit. We're married and we're going to act like it." she proclaimed.



As calmly as I could, I started. "You need help. A normal person would never allow a man to control their actions by doing nothing more than complimenting them, to get them to sleep with him. There is something in your brain that needs repair.



"And when he finished with you, you came back here thinking that everything was okay. It isn't, Janice, and it never will be. We're married and you allowed some man to fuck you over and over. I will never accept that kind of behavior of my wife and I won't stay married to a cheater.



"If you insist on staying in this house, we will both be here until one of us is told to leave by the courts, but we're not living as though we're married. Those days are over. You can do your thing, whatever that has become, and I will do mine. When you cook, clean up after yourself, use the guest room and bath, and clean up after you use the washer, dryer and anything else."



"Bryan, I can't live like that. I made a big mistake with John and I want things back the way they were."



"The first thing you need to do is get help or the same thing might happen again. Some guy could tell you he likes your shoes and you jump into bed with him. Without help, you could be in real trouble. You may have gotten lucky with Stennis because apparently he wasn't violent, but you don't know about the next guy."



"Bryan, there won't be a next guy. I've learned my lesson. Please let's go back to the way it was."



I ended the conversation with, "Not in this lifetime."



I talked with my attorney, Janice was served at the house the next day and was a basket case when I got home. I called her parents, they came over and finally convinced her to go with them.



That Friday, I drove out to where Syl lived. She greeted me when I rang her doorbell and she was dressed pretty nicely. We headed for my pickup and I felt her hesitate when she saw it. I opened the door for her and she still hesitated. "Why don't we take my car?" she asked.



"Is there something wrong with my truck?" I asked.



"It's okay for work, but not for taking someone to dinner," she said.



I looked at her and closed the door. "This was a mistake," I said. "I'm sorry I wasted your time and mine." I started to walk around to the driver's side but stopped. "You look nice by the way. The outside of you at least."



I drove off with her still standing in her driveway. That was a long drive for nothing and I had taken time to really clean the inside of my truck.



That was Friday evening. On my way home after leaving Syl's farm, Janice's father called me. It seems Janice had agreed to seek therapy. "Good for her, but that doesn't change anything as far as the divorce is concerned."



"I understand that," he said. "But we're not telling her that because she thinks counselling will get you back.



"She's wrong, but I will help any other way I can."



Two weeks later I was the resident Vet at another large show. It was to start on Thursday morning and end Sunday afternoon. At least 100 horses were scheduled to be there and they started arriving early on Wednesday. At mid-afternoon I saw the Jacobson Farms truck pull in and head for its parking space. I didn't see Syl's Lexus so I figured I'd see if they brought any horses I hadn't checked yet.



Jimbo was unloading them as I approached. "Any new ones Jimbo, or have I seen these?"



"You've seen these, Doc."



"Thanks, Jimbo. Good luck."



Syl's Lexus pulled beside the trailer just as I was leaving. I chose to keep walking and she made no effort to stop me.



That evening as I made my usual walk through the mixed aromas of hamburgers and horses, I avoided the Jacobson's area and found another place for my hamburger fix.



Competition started the next morning, and I watched the first few events from the judge's stand. I saw Syl watching her daughter compete, but at the same time occasionally glancing up at the judge's stand. I took the opportunity to leave when I saw her attention on her niece's turn in the ring. There were three rings where competition was ongoing so I split my time between them.



During the daily competition, I did what I normally did and that was wander aimlessly and enjoy the sights and sounds.



Thursday ended and evening fell. I knew where I was going to eat that evening. It was one of my favorite farms and they always had the best baked beans and Bar-B-Que ribs in the country. I could smell their beans across the field and made a bee-line in that direction.



I was sitting with a plate overflowing with food and talking to the owners when Syl walked up. She and my friends were old friends as well, so she'd stopped by to say hello. My being there was a coincidence I assumed. The owner, his wife and Sylvia were talking, so I stood with my plate and started to leave leaving the friends to chat.



"Bryan, don't leave. There's someone we want you to meet." I went back. "Sylvia Jacobson, this is Dr. Bryan Lucas. Bryan is our resident Vet and a good friend. Bryan, Sylvia is the owner of Jacobson Farms out by Lexington. She has some beautiful, competitive horses."



I looked at her. "Mrs. Jacobson and I know each other." Then to her. "It's good to see you again." Then to the three of them. "Now if you'll excuse me."



I hadn't gone far when she caught up with me. "Could we talk?" she asked.



"If it's about my truck, which is not good enough for you to ride in, the conversation is a non-starter, so I say again, excuse me."



"Bryan, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were coming straight from work and didn't have time to get your car."



I shook my head. This was getting worse. "Coming straight from work? Did I smell like a stable? Was I covered in horse shit? Was the inside of my truck dirty? The answer to those questions is no. My truck is my only source of transportation, it has served me well for years and you can rest assured that you won't be subjected to having to ride in it. Now, excuse me again. I want to eat before everything gets cold." I went to my truck, sat in it, and ate before going home.



I only saw her in passing on Saturday. Sunday came, and the last day of the show. I did as usual and enjoyed the people and the ambiance. People started leaving as their last events took place and medals were awarded. By mid-morning, about half the parking area was empty.



I was starting up the steps to the judges stand when I felt a tug on my shirt. It was Syl.



"I can't seem to do or say anything right around you, can I?" I shrugged. "Look, I have no idea how to get my foot out of my mouth, but I'd like to try. I'd very much like to go to dinner with you and I'll be happy to ride in a golf cart if that's what you want. So how about giving me another chance?"



"How about Friday?" I asked.



"I'd love to," she answered. "What time?"



My week was a normal week. No really sick horses and no word from Janice. The week improved on Friday when I picked up Syl. I was tempted to not clean my truck, but decided that was pretty childish, so it was spotless inside and out when I drove up her long driveway. I even left the trailer at home.



There are two very nice restaurants in Lexington, Virginia. Either of them would have been fine, but she chose my favorite and we had a very enjoyable evening. We covered lots of topics in our conversation. We talked mostly about horses and horse shows and how expensive it was to dabble in them. We touched on her husband's death and my impending divorce. She told me that she had known a woman like my wife who was susceptible to strong people like Stennis, only with her it was a strong woman who controlled her.



"With my friend it started with her riding instructor. She had taken lessons for years, but just started with a different instructor. The new instructor criticized her constantly by saying she had either been taught wrong or was stupid and fucked up everything. That went on for several weeks before things changed. It was like a switch was flipped and my friend could do no wrong. Everything she did was perfect, from posture to horse control. She was happy as a lark and even brought in a new outfit for her instructor to look at. She took the outfit out of the bag."



"Try it on," said the instructor."



"My friend started to go to the restroom to change."



"No. Change here."



"My friend unbuttoned her blouse and took it off, then her riding boots, socks, and pants. She stood there in her bra and panties and reached for the new riding pants."



"No. Take off your panties," demanded the instructor.



"My friend did."



"Now touch yourself."



"She did."



"Spread your pussy lips and finger fuck yourself."

<hr pg="3" />"She came almost immediately."



"Now," said the instructor as she took off her own pants. "Eat my pussy."



"My friend did. That went on for four months. My friend ate her instructor's pussy and got hers eaten in return. It was a sickness." she told me.



We finished dinner and the end of the evening came so I took her home. I received a peck on the cheek and hug at her door.



That was the only weekend evening available for three more weeks because of shows. She pretty much stayed in the Lexington area and only came to my neighborhood one more time for a show.



Horsey people come in all types and classes. There are those like Syl who have no problem paying for equipment, trainers, riding lessons, and entrance fees. All of that doesn't include the cost of the horse or horses themselves, and their vet bills. At the other end of the spectrum are the folks who train the one horse they own, learn to ride and train their horses from watching YouTube or reading books, scrimp and save to pay entrance fees, and pull their one-horse trailer behind the family sedan. The common denominator is their love of horses.



We never saw or talked to each other for those weeks. I maintained my regular schedule, which, in reality, was an irregular schedule because I never knew when some horse was going to fall ill.



The Sunday of the last show of the season, Syl called and asked if I would be interested in having dinner. I told her I would love to. "Good. My place Friday at 6:30."



"I'll be there." And I was. Her daughter ate with us and the three of us laughed until I realized how late it was and had to leave for my 100 mile drive home.



We had another three week break because I couldn't get to her house. We had a spate of sick horses, and I couldn't take the time to travel to Lexington.



During that time, I was in contact with Janice's parents and they were keeping me up to date on her progress. I reminded them that the divorce was in still in the works.



Syl and I had talked on the phone, but hadn't seen each other. She called and asked if I would like to have dinner. "I would, but I'm swamped and can't come there."



"That's okay. I'll come to you."



That Friday she rang my doorbell. She came in and put two bags of groceries on the kitchen counter. After she hugged me, she asked me to show her around, so I did. After the tour she asked about Janice so I told her what I knew. She saw that some of Janice's things were still hanging in the guest room closet and a few makeup items were still in that bathroom.



"Any idea how long her therapy is going to take?" she asked.



"I don't really care, but hopefully not as long as your friend's two years."



"Are you taking her back when she's cured?"



"Of course not."



"Why? What she has is a sickness and out of her control. She deserves a second chance."



"She could have quit when he first started criticizing her."



Both of our voices began to show passion.



"Maybe she liked her job despite his attitude and knew she was doing a good job. Maybe she thought he would come to recognize that fact."



I looked at her. "Maybe you should talk to her therapist, she could use your support because she damned well isn't getting any from me."



"Maybe you should be a little more considerate and understanding. She is your wife after all."



"She stopped being my wife when she sucked his dick the first time."



We probably could have stopped at that point and things would have been okay, but we didn't.



"She was sick. Don't you understand that?"



"She wasn't sick when it started. She didn't have to come home crying because her boss was mistreating her, she could have quit with my support."



"You said that before, but that's easier said than done when you're sick."



"Would you give a blow job to a man just because he complimented your dress?"



"If I liked him, I just might."



"Well, maybe you should take your groceries and fix him dinner after you blow him."



"You can have the groceries, but that's all you're going to get from me. You'll never get a blowjob." She said as she grabbed her purse and slammed the door as she left.



After she left, I stood looking at the door and wondering what happened. My dinner date got pissed at me for not supporting my cheating wife, and I got pissed at her for supporting my cheating wife. The world was whirling terribly out of control.



I went to the kitchen and looked through the grocery bags. The things that needed to be refrigerated were put there. The rest I left out.



For the next two hours I worried about Syl driving home alone.



I had another bad work week. It might not have been the workload, but it was bad just the same.



More time went by and it was time for our divorce hearing. I was surprised when the judge delayed granting it until Janice's therapy sessions were over. I went from calm and collected to flat out pissed in one second flat. "That's insane." I almost yelled as I stood. "Our marriage is over! She repeatedly slept with another man while married to me. You have no reason not to grant the divorce." All the while I was talking my attorney was tugging at my sleeve trying to get me to be quiet.



"Keep your client quiet, Counsellor, or I will cite him for Contempt of Court." Prompted the judge.



"Good." I yelled. "Because that's exactly what I have: Contempt for this court. Her therapy could go on for years and I have no intention of staying married until she's cured or whatever the hell you call it, and then divorce her, but divorce her I will."



"I fine you $100. Now, sit now or I'll double it."



"Bryan, sit down." My attorney was visibly upset as he pushed me down into my seat."



I was pissed. I glared at the judge. I almost never got mad, but between Sylvia feeling sorry for my wife and the Judge, who had just told me I had to put my life on hold for an unknown period of time, I was making some exceptions. The judge and my attorney were talking about my conduct while I was on my phone looking for flights to Reno or any other place I might get a "quickie" divorce.



I was still looking when my attorney poked me and told me to stand as the judge left the courtroom. I remained seated.



I had my ass reamed out by my attorney for doing what I did, and I had to borrow fifty dollars from him to pay my contempt fine since I only had fifty on me.



Janice, her attorney, and her parents were in a conference at their table. I paid my fine and was leaving when Janice and her attorney came over to me.



"I'm sorry, Bryan," she said. "We've talked it over and will tell the Judge to go ahead and grant the divorce. There's no good reason for you to have to wait."



"Why didn't you tell him before?"



Janice looked at me. "I was hoping you might give me a second chance, but seeing your reaction today, I realize I don't have a prayer. I'm so sorry."



Her little group left. The next week we met in court again and the same judge granted the divorce.



I was never asked to talk to her therapist and I never volunteered. Her parents and brother came to the house the next Saturday and took everything of hers. There was a For Sale sign on the lawn the next day.



My favorite horse owner had a small house on his property. I moved in there temporarily. Fortunately, it was mostly furnished and the rent was cheap.



Over the next several weeks every person I knew had a female friend or relative they wanted me to meet, date, and marry. After five of those meetings, I called a halt to them. "No more." I told everybody. "The next person who tries to set me up gets their vet bill tripled." If they didn't have a horse, or vet bill, I threatened to disavow any friendship we may have had. That seemed to work and my life became horses and me and I liked it that way.



During one busy week, our house sold and the divorce was finalized. I was a free man.



The holidays had come and gone,,, and lots of mares were foaling. Most breeders liked their foals to be born early in the new year, so they bred accordingly and I stayed busy the first three months of every year, which suited me fine.



All of a sudden it was show season again. The farm where I was living traditionally had the first one of the year and it was always very big. Trainers, riders, and horses had worked all winter and were ready to strut their stuff. Like most of the big shows, competition started on Thursday and ended around noon on Sunday. The smaller shows generally ran Friday to Sunday.



One of the first trailers to arrive belonged to Jacobson Farms. Jimbo was driving and parked where he did last time. I didn't wait for him to get settled and I went right over to check Coggins.



The Coggins was an annual thing, so even if I checked the same horses last year, they needed new shots, so I had to check. They, again, had four horses. Two were the same from last year, and they had two new ones. Jimbo and I chatted, but I didn't feel like sticking around. About an hour later, I saw Sylvia's Lexus pull in and park beside her trailer.



The day was like most show arrival days: busy and a bit hectic, but the evenings, as they always seemed to, slowed down and the pace became leisurely. There was a low murmur floating over the parking field with an occasional whinny or snort from a horse. I wasn't particularly hungry as I made my way through the tents, campers, trailers, RV's and campfires. I wasn't paying attention and almost walked by Sylvia's campfire, but I caught myself and turned away before I got to it.



Our eyes met once during the next day, but that was it. That evening, I had a big bowl of chili and a beer at one campsite and decided to cut the evening short, so I went to my little house on the ridge overlooking the show complex. There I sat on the front porch and watched as the campfires went out one at a time and peace and silence almost filled the night. I say almost because there was a single guitar playing somewhere down there. Finally it, too, was silent.



I stood to go inside when I heard the cough. I turned and Sylvia was standing at the bottom of the steps coming up to the porch.



"Is everything okay?" I asked thinking maybe one of her horses needed help.



"Most things are."



"What can I do for you?"



"Maybe just listen for a few minutes?"



I indicated one of the two rocking chairs on the porch. "Have a seat." We both sat and rocked for several minutes before she spoke.



"Since my husband died, I've done everything by myself. That includes running the farm. My employees and hands have helped me tremendously and I've gotten along fine for eight years. During those years, I've had a few dates and two relatively long-term relationships." She stood and took the couple of steps to the edge of the porch and turned back to me. "Then I met you. At first you were just another man, but that changed after we had dinner. It didn't take long for me to start liking you."



She looked at me for a long time. "Then we spent more time together. It wasn't a lot of time, but it didn't take much. My comments about your truck and you coming straight from work to take me to dinner were inexcusable and I profoundly and sincerely apologize. I can only offer as an excuse that I wanted everything to be perfect, and I didn't feel that dinner in a truck filled that bill. I forgot that the perfection of any date was the person you were with; not their transportation or the place you went."



We were both quiet for a long time. I felt no obligation to speak, so I waited for her.



"And there's your wife."



"My ex-wife."



"Okay. Your ex-wife. When I saw her clothes at your house, I thought of what she went through and I felt sorry for her."



"Why? You don't even know her."



"But my friend went through the same thing and she didn't receive any sympathy or support from her husband, either. She had to go through two years of therapy without the support of her best friend and it was so hard for her. It made her recovery more difficult. If you could only ..."



"Okay. Stop right there. I can see where this is going. You're sympathetic toward my ex-wife and I'm not. She cheated. She had the power to stop it early on and didn't. Like your friend, she chose to take the verbal abuse instead of walking away from it.



"When I knew my wife was going to spend her second weekend with her doctor, I told her explicitly that she wasn't going. She got mad and stormed out of the house and went to him anyway. I was her husband and, supposed best friend, but she had no problem telling me to kiss her ass. That proved to me she had a certain control over her desires." I took a deep breath. "If you came up here to apologize, you accomplished your mission, but if you came to convince me to support my ex-wife, you need to leave because that will not happen. I don't think I understand you anyway. Out of one side of your mouth I hear that you and I are working toward a nice relationship. Out of the other side you appear to be chasing me away telling me that she probably deserves a second chance." I stood, went to her, pulled her out of her rocking chair and continued speaking. "I think any relationship you and I have is in deep shit right now because you have no idea what you want, and I, quite frankly, am beginning to not care. So maybe you should concentrate on running your farm and stay out of the relationship business until you get your shit together."



By then I had her at the top of the steps and pointed toward the parking area. That was Thursday night. I never saw her again all weekend. In fact, I didn't see her for the whole rest of the season. If she entered any of the shows in my part of the country, she cancelled them.



I had begun to look for a small farm of my own and when the show season was over, I started looking in earnest. I settled on a place not far from where I was living. The real estate agent wasn't horsey, herself, but she knew what horse owners wanted in property.



The previous owners had allowed two breeders to use the fields for grazing, and I continued to allow it.



The agent, whose name was Gale, and I started dating, and we progressed pretty rapidly. She helped me pick out furniture for my house and spent several evenings a week with me having dinner, or just hanging out. We had kissed a few times and enjoyed each other's company a great deal.



We had been out to dinner one evening and were sitting in my livingroom on the big leather sofa we had picked out. "Something to drink?" I asked.



She leaned into me. "I'd prefer something else," she replied.



"What would that be?"



She leaned in, kissed me softly at first, then not so softly. The next thing I knew we were in my bedroom, naked. The first round of sex went unbelievably and embarrassingly fast. It had been a very long time for me, and I was like a horny teenager who couldn't wait to get his rocks off. The second time was better. By three in the morning we had it down to an art and our bodies moved liked the proverbial well-oiled machine. She wasn't big on giving blowjobs, but I had the feeling she would be willing to improve under the right circumstances.



I was right. Two weeks later, she was sucking dick like a pro and enjoying it. She even swallowed and liked it.



She also liked to have her pussy eaten. I don't know who her partners had been, but when we first started, her sexual skills were lacking. Fortunately, she was a willing and eager student. Of course I couldn't start coaching her until after our first night because I was worse than she was.



We dated for four months and she was spending a lot of time at my house. We made it through the holidays and I, as usual for that time of year, was busy with foaling. When that was over, Gale had sort of drifted away.



The first show of the season was starting. It was late afternoon when the Jacobson Farms trailer pulled in. Jimbo was driving and for the first time, Sylvia's daughter, Julie was riding with him. He parked and I did my Coggins thing.



It was later and I was taking my nightly walk through the area. I saw Sylvia's trailer and she was sitting by the fire. Sitting in a chair next to her was a man I had seen before, but didn't recall. I walked past and parked where her car usually parked was a beautiful green Mercedes-Benz with the license plate SMILE.



I stared at it for a long time and decided it was none of my business. I wondered around until most campfires were out and it was quiet before I went back to Sylvia's area. The Mercedes was gone.



The next morning I had started climbing up into the judge's booth when Sylvia stopped me.



"You never stopped by last night," she said.



"I saw you had a guest. Do you like him?"



"I'm not sure. I met him in Lexington last week. He was looking to buy a horse, so I showed him a couple of mine."



"Have you been on a date with him?"



"No. Yesterday was the first time we've done anything together."



"Did he like your outfit?"



"What?"



"Did he compliment your outfit?"



"Actually, no. He said the color didn't suit me."



"Did you change?"



"What?"



"Did you change your outfit because of what he said?



"Yes, I did. Why did you ask that?"



"Because his name is Dr. John C. Stennis. He was my ex-wife's boss. Have a nice day." I climbed the steps to the booth and spent most of the morning there. She didn't hang around long.



I was invited to a birthday party that evening and was sitting with the other partiers when I saw the Mercedes pull in. I watched as Sylvia approached him. They talked for a very short time and he returned to his car and drove off in a rush.



When the birthday party broke up, I went to my truck to go home. She was sitting on the ground beside it. She stood as I approached. "It's nice out here," she said. "I can see lightening bugs."



"I like it."



"Thank you for telling me about him."



"You're welcome. Now if you'll excuse me." I reached around her to open my door.



She touched my arm.



"What do I have to do, Bryan?"



"For what?"



"To get you to like me again."



"Let me see. You thought riding in my truck was beneath you. Then you thought I came from working in a stable to take you to dinner. Neither of those was very complimentary to me and you voiced it without any reservation."



"But I apologized for that and we went out and had fun."



"You did and we did, but then you basically ridiculed me for not supporting a cheating wife and giving her another chance, implying that I was an asshole for not sticking by her. You always seem to find something wrong with me. It's like you were John Stennis and I was my wife, criticize and criticize until you think I'm broken before you start with the compliments. With all due respect, Mrs. Jacobson, we don't have much of a starting point. Don't you agree?"



"Bryan, I- ..."



"Then you show up here with a mind control master who, on your first date had you question your own choice of wardrobe. Your first date! He would have you sucking his dick before the end of the week."



"That isn't fair. It was only the first time we've been out. I would have realized what he was doing."



"That's how it starts, as you pointed out to me when you told me about your friend. I take it back. You'd be blowing him in two more days; fucking him by the end of the week. Good night, Mrs. Jacobson."



"Goddamnit, Bryan, wait a minute." I stopped and looked at her. "I'm not perfect. I make mistakes. I made three of them with you; two I've already apologized for. The thing with your wife was just a reaction to my remembering my friend. I apologize for that, as well. It's just that I believe she has a sickness and needs sympathy, not ridicule. I didn't mean for it to break us up."



Again, I looked at her. "What exactly do you propose?"



"Let's go out. You and me. You're not busy every weekend with shows, and I could use a break. Do you dance?"



"A little."

<hr pg="4" />"Good. We'll go dancing, we'll drive up the Blueridge Parkway. Hike in the Smokey Mountains. Anything to spend time together and let you see me as I really am; not like you think I am." She paused. "I've never had to beg a man to go out with me, Bryan, but I'm close."



"Okay. Let's start with a drive on Saturday. I'll pick you up Saturday morning about nine."



"Great. I'm looking forward to it."



On Friday, I was asked to look at a new horse in Lexington which had just been brought in from Kansas. The new owner wanted me to check him over. When I was finished, I decided to drive by Jacobson Farms and say hello. I was halfway down the driveway when I saw the green Mercedes parked by the house. I immediately backed down the driveway to the road where I stopped and called Sylvia.



"Hi, Bryan. What's up?"



"Nothing much. Just wondering what you were doing."



"Actually, nothing."



We chatted for a couple of minutes before I reminded her about the next morning."



I was to pick her up at nine, but I was there at six. At seven, the green Mercedes pulled out of her drive. At one minute after seven I called her."



"Good morning, Bryan."



"I was right."



"About what?" she asked.



"I told you you would be fucking him by the end of the week and you did."



"What are you talking about?"



"Stennis. I just saw his car leave."



"Bryan, he wanted to look at a horse and Jimbo was going to be gone so he asked him to get here early. That's all. I do buy and sell horses, you know."



"You know something, Sylvia? I believe you. I believe you when you asked him to get there early, and he did. As a matter of fact he got there last night, didn't he?"



"What?"



"He got there last night and spent the night with you."



"Bryan, I- ..."



"Didn't he?"



"Bryan, I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. He was just like Mona."



"Who the fuck is Mona?"



"Do you remember I told you about my friend?"



"Yes, but what has that got ..."



"It wasn't my friend. It was me. Mona controlled me. She did all the things to me that I said she did to my friend. I underwent analysis for two years and thought I was cured. Then I met John and it all came back. I knew what was going to happen when he told me to change my outfit. I knew what was going to happen and I wanted it to."



"I feel sorry for you." I ended the call.



It was a long drive home. I had hoped she and I could work it out, but no such luck. I saw her trailer two weeks later at another show. I was just an observer at that one with no vet responsibilities. The Jacobson Farm trailer pulled in and parked. I looked later but Sylvia's Lexus wasn't there so I wandered by. Jimbo was at the fire and offered me a hot dog and beer. I took it.



"Where's the boss?" I asked.



"In the hospital."



"For what?"



"Not sure. I only heard about it after she was there for a few days. I asked her daughter and she won't talk about it."



"How about her boyfriend?" I asked.



"My God, what a slimeball. The bastard is married, but Sylvia didn't know about it at first. They had only dated for a couple of weeks and he tried to move in and take over. It was right after that she went into the hospital."



Julie came out of the trailer. "Oh, Dr. Lucas. I have a message from my mother. She asked me to ask you if you would visit her."



"What's wrong with her?"



"That creep she was seeing made a nervous wreck out of her. He wanted her to do things she didn't want to do and he kept putting pressure on her. She told him to get out and she broke down."



"Broke down because he left her?"



"No, sir. Broke down because she let you down-... at least that's what she keeps saying."



She gave me Sylvia's room number. Later that night as I emptied my pockets, I found the piece of paper it was written on. I threw it in the trash without looking at it.



I hadn't been laid since my real estate agent, Gale, and my dick started complaining. Actually, my brain was complaining, but we all know that a man's brain is controlled by his dick. I made no effort to bar hop, go online to a dating website, or actively seek out female companionship, but I really wanted some ... female companionship that is.



I was home one evening when my phone rang. It was my ex, Janice. I didn't know that until I answered it. I answer all calls to my phone because I never know when it might be a customer.



"Hello."



"Bryan? It's Janice."



"Oh. How are you?"



"I'm great. Hey, I was wondering if maybe we could have coffee or a drink sometime."



"Why?"



"Mostly for old times' sake, I guess."



"I don't see any good that could come of something like that. Do you?"



"Maybe. I thought we might be friends again."



"I don't hate you, so that's friendship enough for me." I paused. "Are you finished with your analyst?"



"Yes. A few months ago."



"How's that working out for you?"



"So far so good, I guess."



"Have you seen Stennis?"



"No, and I don't want to. I understand he has a new victim."



"How do you know that?"



"I uh- ...I-... I just heard it."



"You went looking for him, didn't you?"



"I just wanted to know where he was."



"Christ, Janice. You never learned a thing, did you?"



"Bryan, I- ..."



I didn't let her finish. It appeared to me that the recidivism rate among mind control fiends like Mona and Stennis was higher than the state's criminal recidivism rate. I wondered how many other people were involved with two victims like Janice and Sylvia. I was just lucky I guess.



I never had much to do with thoroughbred race horses, so was surprised when I received a call from the owner of one. He was at the race track not too far from where I lived and it was Sunday. Apparently that Sunday, every vet in Virginia except me, had taken a vacation. The horse had just arrived from Florida where he had been racing and was lying on his stall floor. It was almost as long a drive to the racetrack as it was to Lexington, but I went.



The owner met me when I drove up and took me right to the stall. There was a woman crouching over the horse rubbing his neck. I immediately went to work and worked the better part of three straight hours before I felt comfortable enough to rest.



The three humans went down the row of stables to where the trainers hung out, ate, had coffee and napped occasionally. The owner, Tommy Weyand, introduced the woman to me as his trainer, Rebecca (Becky) Self. Female trainers were still pretty rare around racetracks, so she had to be something special. The three of us had coffee and chatted. I found out Becky and I were from the same city. Her uncle trained thoroughbreds and they discovered she had an interest in it, as well, so she moved in with him and his wife to learn.



We had been there for a couple of hours before decided to go back and look at Tommy's horse. He was resting more comfortably and we felt good enough to go get something to eat.



It was a fun couple of hours, and we went back to the stable. Tommy's Tune, the horse, was on his feet. We had taken all the hay and grain out of his stall before and he indicated he was hungry. I told them to not feed him until the next morning, which was only a few hours away, and then feed him half rations for two days.



I was tired so I went to my truck and went to sleep. It wasn't the first time I'd slept in my truck and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. When I awakened, I went to the trainer's room to use the bathroom and freshen up, and find a cup of coffee. I took my coffee to go see Tommy's Tune. Becky was already there and hand feeding him grain. I looked him over and felt it was safe for me to leave. The owner came in and was happy. I gave him my bill, he left and came back with a check. I talked a bit more to them and headed home. They told me that their vet would be there later in the day. I offered to fill him in on what I did and why, but I was sure he'd know.



Back at home things were normal. There were still some shows, but I wasn't involved so I could just hang out and eat free.



I had revised my social schedule. I had determined that I would not cruise bars, churches, and shopping centers for women, but my dick convinced me otherwise. My first night on the prowl was wasted. So were my second, third, and fourth nights. One night I did see my ex, Janice. She was in one of the bars I trolled and she was dancing with a man who had both of his hands on her ass. I wished him well.



One afternoon, I received a call. As I've already mentioned, I answer all my calls, because it might be a client.



"Hello."



"Hello, Bryan. This is Becky Self. May I buy you dinner?"



"Absolutely. When?"



"How about tonight?"



I chuckled. "I believe I can handle that."



I met her in town at my favorite restaurant. She had been in town for a couple of days. Her parents had a working farm not ten miles from my house and she was visiting them for two weeks during a break in the racing season. We spent most of the rest of her time off together.



In fact, we spent her last night in my bed. We both discovered we had almost identical "dry spells," as far as sex was concerned. I asked her about her dry spell.



"I can't understand it," I said. "You're in a world with over 99% men. It should be easy to get laid."



She looked at me and frowned. "I spend most of my time with Jockeys, stable bums, my horses, and married owners. I manage to keep pretty busy."



"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. In fact, I'm in basically the same situation. Most of my owners are married, as well, most riders are kids, and most trainers are men."



She smiled. "Then why don't you and I go to your place and fuck our brains out?



Becky and I tried very hard to make up for lost time. She was a gifted loved. Gifted at giving and gifted at receiving. We spent the whole night fucking and experimenting. The only thing we didn't do was anal because neither of us enjoyed it.



Her horse raced mostly on the east coast so we saw each other frequently enough to develop a real relationship. There was a storm that caused some severe damage to her racetrack, so it was closed for several days and she came home. She basically lived with me she was off.



On Wednesday, she asked me if her cousin and date could join us for dinner. "Of course. Would you like to cook or go out?" I asked.



She had cooked meals for us so I knew she was good. "Let's go out. That way they might leave right after dinner and we can come back here for our favorite sport," she said and I agreed.



We arrived at the restaurant first and waited in the lobby for her cousin. I thought I recognized the woman as her escort opened first the outer door then the inner door and she came clear. I had about two seconds to pray that she was not Becky's cousin, but God wasn't on my side that night.



"Becky," Sylvia almost yelled when she saw her cousin.



"Syl. It's so good to see you." They hugged.



"It's good to see you, too, Syl. Let me introduce you to Bryan Lucas. Bryan, this is my cousin Sylvia Jacobson. She's pretty horsey."



Sylvia and I looked at each other. "Mrs. Jacobson and I have met." I looked at Becky. "Becky, I don't think I can stay." I gave her the keys to my truck. "Please stay and enjoy dinner with your cousin. I'll see you later."



"Wait. Bryan!"



My phone rang almost immediately. "What's wrong Bryan. Are you okay?"



"I'm fine. I just didn't know your cousin was Sylvia Jacobson. She and I have a history and I prefer not to spend any time with her."



"Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't know."



"Of course you didn't. How could you? But I want you to enjoy some time with her. After all, she is your cousin."



"Are you sure it's okay?"



"Sure, I'm sure. Enjoy. See you later."



My house was several miles from the restaurant and it was dark. I was almost hit by cars several times as I walked along the road, but fortunately one of my horse owners recognized me and gave me a ride.



She was home less than two hours later. She rushed in and threw her arms around me. "Oh my God. No wonder you didn't want to stay." She went on to tell me what Sylvia had told her about our history. It sounded pretty much dead on and Sylvia didn't skim over her part in the story. "It's hard to believe that two women you know fell for the same piece of shit, Stennis."



After my long walk, I was almost too tired to fuck, but her lips on my dick solved that problem forthwith.



Becky and I saw each other off and on for the rest of the racing season.



When the racing season was ov,er she came home and moved in with me. After a few weeks we started discussing the next racing season. I had the impression she wasn't too enthusiastic about going back and hinted around about staying home and helping her parents on their farm and maybe start breeding and raising horses herself.



I thought it was a great idea. After all, I had fallen in love with her somewhere along the line and wasn't looking forward to her leaving. Turns out she felt the same.



That was five years ago. I sold my little piece of property after we were married and moved onto her family farm. We breed and raise Arabians, but we don't show them. We go to their shows, but leave the training and showing to others.



I've had my same dentist for many years. I was surprised last time I went in to have my teeth cleaned and Janice was the technician. I asked for a different one. She may still work there, but she'll never have her hands in my mouth. I have no idea if she remarried and don't really care.



Sylvia's daughter is in college so Sylvia doesn't come to shows anymore, which again, is no big deal as far as I'm concerned.



Dr. John Stennis was caught with his dick in the mouth of one of his sedated patients. He now fills teeth in prison.

