MYSTERY WOMAN
There's no reason to give a complete background of my life or describe everything about me to relate my tale. The only salient facts are: that I spent my life until I was twenty six having women chase me because they saw desirable qualities in me that I'm not sure are really there; I am college educated; and I have a good job in the marketing department of a Fortune 500 company.
Because I was chased a lot, I was sexually experienced, and had had relationships ranging from one night to five months with more than two dozen women. No one really floated my boat, however, and I had yet to seriously consider marriage. That changed a few days after my twenty sixth birthday.
I was lounging around the pool of the nice high-rise apartment complex that I lived in, talking to a young married couple (Jill and Wyatt) who were friends of mine from social gatherings at the complex, when a woman emerged from the water in front of me, and then strolled toward the diving board. I had never seen her before. She was big, blond, buxom, beautiful, and muscular. I apparently stopped some story that I was telling Jill in mid-sentence and I must have become gap-jawed because by the time that the blond got to the high-dive Jill was waving her hand in my face giggling "Earth to Brian, come in," and Wyatt was laughing his ass off.
"Oh, sorry, Jill," I said with a good deal of embarrassment, "where was I?"
"You were in another dimension staring at that woman's tits and ass, dipshit," Wyatt "charitably" snickered.
"Can't say that I blame you," Jill whistled. "Wyatt would have had the same reaction if I wasn't around to go upside his head if he did."
After the blond did a perfect jackknife dive off of the high board, I tried my best to snap out of it. When I remained mute for a time period longer despite hearing buzzing in the background - obviously Jill and Wyatt talking - while still staring at the blond as she again exited the pool on the side opposite me, I was suddenly pulled to my feet. Jill and Wyatt each had an arm and before I could stop them they had thrown me into the water; I did a somewhat painful belly-flop. When I lifted my now sunglasses-free head out of the water, I looked toward the opposite side of the pool and saw that the blond and several other people were chuckling.
"At least she had to notice me," I said to myself before diving under the water to retrieve my Oakleys.
Always being clever in getting introductions to people, I turned my embarrassment into an opportunity. I first shook the water off of me onto my grinning tormentors, and then sauntered over to the other side of the pool. I kiddingly asked the closest person there that I had seen smiling "Say...what's your name?"
"Ben," he chuckled.
"Say Ben, can I get you to be a witness in my lawsuit against Jill and Wyatt for humiliating me and washing off the sunblock that I just applied?"
After we joked for a while I moved along in the same manner to other "witnesses," most of whom jokingly said that I probably had it coming.
The blond was the fourth person.
"Hi, I'm Brian McCarthy; and you are...?" I said extending my hand.
"Eve Jensen," she replied with a glint in her eye and a smile on her face as she shook my hand with a firm grip.
"Well, Eve, I hope that you'll be more sympathetic than the last two witnesses and will help me in my lawsuit against my former best friends," I chuckled.
"Oh, Brian, I'd like to help," she snickered, "but all my court dates for the year are filled up; but I will bring a squirt gun with me next time I come to the pool so that you can retaliate."
"Thanks," I said, preparing to sit next to her to chat with her while trying my best not to stare at the massive tits almost bursting out of her bikini top, or her sculptured thighs. However, the older couple to her left started talking to me and by the time that I was able to disengage from them Eve had dried off and walked away.
To make a long story short, I tried to find out as much about Eve as I could over the next several months. With luck that I probably didn't deserve, when she was in town - she traveled a lot on business - she worked in the building right across the street from mine for a company called EIT, Inc. However, all that I could find out about that company was that they did "business consulting" of some sort. They didn't even have a website - unheard of in the twenty first century!
After three or four months of just saying Hi, or exchanging a few pleasantries, with Eve whenever I saw her, I got lucky. She was outside our apartment complex early one weekday obviously waiting for something.
"Hi, Eve - you look anxious," I chirped.
"Hi, Brian. The cab to take me to the airport for an impromptu trip I learned about forty five minutes ago isn't here, and I'm going to be late," she replied.
"I'm happy to give you a ride, I'm going there to pick up a new hire," I lied.
"Really - thanks," she said. She quickly picked up her suitcase - no roller bag for her - and walked so fast away from the apartment house that I had to hustle to keep up with her. We had a very friendly chat during the twenty five minute drive to the airport, although she rarely answered any personal questions directly, and was vague about the reason for her trip. Things were even more curious when she had me drop her off at the private jet terminal rather than a commercial one.
"Thanks so much, Brian, you really saved me," she said with a big smile as she exited my car. I couldn't help myself as I watched her ass wiggle the entire thirty yards or so before she reached the front door to the terminal.
After the trip to the airport Eve and I talked whenever we saw each other. It was another month, however, before I had the nerve to ask her out on a date - lack of nerve had never, ever, been a factor in my life before, since - as I said - I was normally the one pursued.
When I asked her out the first time she said "Sorry, can't make it," then changed the subject. She was the first girl/woman in my life that I had asked out who couldn't make it who didn't say "I hope that we can do it another time," or something to that effect. This really shook me. However, if I hadn't already fallen in love with her - it sure was a different feeling than I had with any other woman - I was damn close. So I asked her a second time, and a third time, with the same response each time; this was despite the fact that I thought that she enjoyed my company.
Finally, at a complex pool party, after she had consumed a few cups of punch that was insidiously laced with grain alcohol, I confronted her directly.
"Say, Eve. I've got to say that I really like you and would love to go on a date with you but you always turn me down. I'm a big boy with thick skin so if there is something about me that you dislike, let me know and I'll stop asking. But unless you tell me 'Shove off and don't ask again,' I'm going to keep pestering you."
She looked me straight in the eye. Her speech was slightly slurred, but she was still totally aware. "I think that you're a great guy and cute too, Brian. However, given my job I'm not sure that a long term relationship with you or anyone else is in the cards, and I don't want to lead you on - because I do sense that you have real feelings for me."
"So in other words if I required only a casual relationship, you'd go out with me?" I queried.
"Sure - I get horny just like anyone else. I just don't want to lead you on because my job comes first and it's not one that most guys in a relationship would embrace," she replied.
"You're not a call girl, are you?" I asked, quite stunned.
"Hell no, but thanks for asking," she said, and then broke out laughing.
We had our first date the next day - a Sunday. We went to a play, then a stroll along the river, and stopped for ice cream. I had a great time - and she seemed to too. When we got back to our apartment building she got this diabolical look in her eyes and said "You are going to invite me in for a nightcap, aren't you? - even though I never drink before a workday."
"Sure - would you like to come to my apartment for a nightcap?" I grinned.
"I thought that you'd never ask," she giggled.
We had no sooner closed the door to my apartment when Eve was on me. She had my rock hard cock in her hand within twenty seconds of the lock "click" and I had my hands on her massive boobs and my lips on hers seconds after that. We never stopped mauling each other while we undressed, but eventually ended up on the couch in my living room.
Her naked body was beyond exquisite. Her tits were not only colossal, they were gorgeous. She had puffy nipples - I LOVE puffy nipples. Her tits were the nicest that I had ever seen, not just live, but on any screen or in any magazine.
Her pussy lips were very conspicuous, and glistening with her moisture. Her clit looked like a little dick it was so prominent, and her landing strip of the same color blond as on her head was like a directional area pointing to her honey pot. I love to eat pussy, and quickly concluded that this was the nicest pussy that I had ever eaten after the first half-dozen slurps. By tonguing or fingering her entire crotch, while periodically stroking a thigh or pinching a nipple, I had her climaxing in record time.
After she orgasmed the third time she mumbled "Time to fuck - sit on the couch."
I quickly obeyed. Facing away from me she lowered her sopping wet pussy onto my upright cock; each inch that disappeared sent an electric charge through my spine to my brain. She leaned back into me, I grabbed those glorious orbs on her chest, and she fondled my balls, as we bounced our crotches up and down. We were in sync for a while, but were both so energized that that didn't last for long. Soon we were wildly moving most parts of our body until I blew an enormous wad into her pulsating cunt, triggering her fourth orgasm.
We eventually made it to my bed, although I was close to delirious and she seemed to be too. She sucked my cock in the middle of the night, I moved her into doggy position, and fucked her harder - and she fucked back harder - than any other time in my life. After another almost simultaneous, earth-moving, toe-curling, set of orgasms, we more passed out than feel asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, she was gone. There was a note with a smiling stick figure that said "Thanks. Sorry, I'll be gone for three days. How about pizza on Friday?"
The sexual experience with Eve was beyond my expectations. It was so much better than any other in my life that it was almost like my first sex ever. The woman was fun, passionate, sultry, smart...; shit, she had almost every desirable quality that a woman could have, except for candor about her job. I had never been in love before, but this sure seemed like it!
Things with Eve were great - up to a point - for the next six months. We went out every weekend that she was in town, and sometimes had dinner together on weeknights. Ninety percent of the time that we were together we ended up fucking, and shockingly it got even better once we got used to each other. I had absolutely no interest in any other woman despite getting hit upon almost daily, and there was no indication that she wasn't satisfied with me alone.
I did get to find out some personal information about her, mostly by interrogating her after a mind-blowing fuck on a weekend night. She graduated college cum laude with a degree in criminal psychology. Her father was killed in the 9-11 tragedy at the Pentagon, which caused her mother - never stable to begin with and very dependent on her father - to waste away and eventually commit suicide. She had no close relatives. She was extremely patriotic, and devoted to making the Western World safer - through the work that she did. How her work made the world safer was never explained, however. As a general rule she was kind and considerate of others, but got her dander up if anyone said anything against the good ole USA.
There were so many mysterious things about her that I did not evaluate to the extent that I should have when the air of mystery about her that I was previously oblivious to because of my love for her shockingly jumped to the forefront.
We were walking to my car in the middle of the city about eleven o'clock one Friday night. Two thugs approached us to mug us. One pointed a gun at us as the second approached me and started to rifle through my pockets, scaring the shit out of me. I had tried to move Eve behind me with my right arm to shield her, but instead she moved slightly in front of me. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw a quick movement. Eve had turned the gun toward the first thug, and a split second later it went off, sending a bullet into the thug's chest.
I thought that my reaction in swinging at the second thug with my left hand was fast, but Eve had kicked him in the balls before my fist hit his face. She then proceeded to smash him on the end of his nose with the butt of her palm and he hit the ground like a falling tree, and his head bounced off the concrete.
I was frantic; she was as calm as could be. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. After giving our location but not her name she disconnected the call.
"WOW - you were incredible," I gushed. "Where did you learn that?"
"Whatever," she chuckled, and then continued. "Listen, Brian; there is something very important that you have to do for me when the cops come, OK?"
"Uh, sure, Eve," I mumbled.
"You have to call me Lisa Wilson, not Eve Jensen. I'm going to be giving the cops identification that says 'Lisa Wilson,' so you need to back that up," she said seriously.
"What - what for?" I inquired, as puzzled as I have ever been.
"Please, Brian - it's important even though I can't tell you why."
"Uh, OK, I guess - but what if they ask questions about your life?"
"You can tell them everything that you know, except my name; OK?" she said with a big smile while holding my hands and then placing a quick kiss on my lips.
"OK..." I said - I mean what could I say?
Eve walked a short distance away from me and made another call - which I couldn't overhear since the gunshot had attracted some attention and a crowd was gathering and murmuring.
The cops were there quickly. I saw Eve give them a passport and a work photo ID, both of which apparently had the name "Lisa Wilson" on them.
The cops took us to the station and interviewed us separately. The guy with the gun was dead, and the other thug was in critical condition - his brain had really been scrambled by Eve's blow. I told the cops the complete truth - except for Eve's name - and since I have the ability to read upside down I was quite sure that some of the papers that they had in front of them while they were interviewing me were the miscreants' long rap sheets.
In a relatively short period of time - at least compared to what I've seen in movies or heard about on TV - a captain came into the interrogation room and said "Mr. McCarthy can go." I could tell that the interrogating cops wanted to ask me more questions, but that it would be futile after what the captain just said.
"Don't leave town, though," one of the plain clothes detectives said.
The captain gave him a dirty look and said "Actually, you can go wherever you want to Mr. McCarthy, you're complete free."
"Is Lisa around?" I asked.
"She's waiting by the front door," the captain responded.
When I saw Eve I got a big smile from her, gave her a quick kiss, and asked "Are you completely exonerated and free to go too?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" she snickered. "We didn't do anything wrong."
"How do we get back to my car?" I asked.
"A friend from work is in front - he'll drive us there," she replied as we walked out the door.
A black sedan was waiting. She introduced me to the driver, "Bob Jones" (not too obvious an alias), and with only time for minor chit-chat we were at my car.
When I tried to talk about the incident when we got to my apartment, as Eve disrobed she put a finger over my lips and said "No talk; just sex," and then proceeded to fuck my brains out.
In hindsight, the goings-on that Friday night should have made me very wary, but I was blinded by love. I was only interested in figuring out how to get Eve to marry me - and when we could next fuck - and didn't logically think it out.
There were at least half a dozen strange incidents over the next nine months - although nothing as dramatic as that Friday night - but I shrugged all of them off. I was on a quest to get Eve to marry me and I proposed to her at least half a dozen times. The answer was always the same.
"Brian, I have real feelings for you in addition to lusting after you. However, believe me, my job is NOT one that is conducive to marriage, and eventually you'd end up dissatisfied."
Each time I'd confirm that she wasn't a call girl, and each time she would refuse to say anything more.
About fifteen months after our first sexual experience, I was completely frustrated. Never having had to pursue a woman before, and never having been in love before, I was totally flummoxed. I finally decided that it was time to shit or get off the pot. On a Saturday night after she had been gone on business for the previous five days, I pulled out all stops in wining, dining, and dancing with Eve. When we got to my apartment - we still kept separate apartments even though we slept together most nights that she was in town - as part of my plan I did my best to please her sexually.
After enthusiastically eating Eve to two orgasms, I pulled out and lubricated a thin vibrator. As I was mauling a tit with my left hand, and still tonguing her clit, I slowly introduced the vibrator into her asshole. She flinched at first but when I assured her that it would be awesome she relaxed - she completely trusted me.
Once, except for the controls, the vibrator was ensconced in her asshole I turned her on her hands and knees in the doggy position, and started to insert my rock hard cock. Normally her pussy is snug; with the vibrator in her asshole her pussy was so tight that it took many thrusts and much pressure before I was buried. Once I was buried she was already in an almost incessant orgasmic state before I even started pumping. Once I did she let out a continuous loud groan, interrupted by chirps. I was ready to cum quickly - but before I did I turned the vibrator on "low."
Her pussy muscles started spasming, her body started convulsing, and I blew my load within seconds of the vibrator being turned on. I slowly pulled the vibrator out of her asshole once I had discharged my complete load, and when both it and my cock were removed from her orifices she collapsed into a sweaty, happy, moaning, pile of protoplasm.
When Eve finally recovered I proceeded to hit her with my marriage ultimatum.
After I pried her eyelid open I got a big smile from her. "That was all-time stud. But we can never do that on a night before I have to work - I'd be worthless the next day."
"Uh - Eve; that's what I need to talk to you about."
"What do you mean?"
"I need a commitment from you. I love you so much that it hurts - but I need to know that you'll be in my life in the future. I need you to accept my marriage proposal."
After a long pause during which Eve suddenly became wide awake she stared at me with her intense azure eyes. Then she gently said "Brian, honey; we've been over this before..."
I cut her off. "Eve - this time it's different. I...uh...well...if we don't get married I'm breaking off contact with you. I'd rather suffer the pain now than after I'm even more in love with you, since I seem to actually love you more every day."
After another long pause, with her eyes burning a hole in my head, she resignedly said "You're serious, aren't you?" "Yes Eve, I am."
"I'll be back Friday night and give you my answer then," she said while she got up and started getting dressed. "Is that acceptable?" she asked, with a real edge.
I just nodded, and watched her until her beautiful round ass disappeared from the bedroom. The front door slammed shortly afterward.
The next week may have been the longest of my life. When Eve is traveling normally about every other day she sends me an email - she never calls on the phone. This time I didn't hear from her at all. I had resigned myself to having to start over, sure that I would never find anyone else like Eve, when she arrived at my apartment on Friday night. She entered using her key. Her body language was tough to read.
"I'm pissed at you for giving me an ultimatum, Brian," were her first discouraging words. The next were much better. "I am truly in love with you though - I just can't understand why you don't believe me when I say that given that my very unusual job comes first you still want a marriage."
"OK; let me both ask some questions, and explain," I said, holding her hands.
She nodded.
"You're not a call girl, right?" I rhetorically asked, for the fifth time.
"Right."
"Your job helps the U S Government, right?"
"Right."
"You're not going to be doing the job forever, right?"
"I will be for at least another eight to ten years, though," she hesitantly replied.
"Are you interested in sex with anyone else?"
"No - you satisfy me completely."
"Do you love me?"
"Yes - lots."
"Then please, Eve, marry me."
"If you get down on one knee, I will," she replied with a mischievous smile. However she continued with the ominous serious statement, "But don't say that I didn't warn you that if I have to choose between my job and being married my job will prevail."
That caused me to gulp hard. Nevertheless, I got down on one knee, we got married in a simple ceremony, we both gave up our apartments but rented a larger one in the same complex, and I was happy.
Married life started out great - except for Eve's extended business trips, which sometimes came up on the spur of the moment. It was a little disconcerting that we could never talk substantively about where she was going or what she was doing, and several times I challenged her and asked if she was really working for the CIA.
"No, darling," she would always patiently reply. "I work for EIT, Inc. It's a private company. We have some contracts with the government, but I do NOT work for the CIA. I wish that I could tell you more, but even though I think that it's ridiculous, some of the things are Top Secret and on a need-to-know basis."
There were a few blips here and there. Sometimes when she returned from a trip there were marks on her boobs or ass, but she explained them as resulting from physical confrontations, and she never tried to hide them from me. Of course after watching her handle the two muggers, I was predisposed to believe that she occasionally got into fights. I was worried for her safety, but she was not.
After we had been married for three years, and had moved into a house, an enormous safe showed up one weekend. "I need to keep some sensitive materials in it, darling - and I won't be able to let you know the combination or have a key," she said while stroking the side of my face as it was being installed. It required the floor of our den to be reinforced including by several I-beams in the basement, to which the safe was attached by prison screws (the head breaks off when you tighten them so they can't be removed except with a torch).
About six months after the safe had been installed, Eve had been promised a completely hassle-free weekend by her employer, EIT. We celebrated at a dance club Friday night, went to a ball game Saturday during the day, a play that night, and then had an incredible sex session. After doing the Wheelbarrow, for an encore I used the butt vibrator on her when I fucked her. We could only use that technique when she was sure that she didn't have to work the next day, because it wiped her out. Me too, but she had all of her nerve endings fried and was convinced that she couldn't handle difficult situations for twenty four hours afterward.
Our deep slumber cuddling with each other after our fuck fest was rudely interrupted by her secure cellphone going off. She was required to have it on at all times, and like many people had different ringtones for people who regularly called her. This was the obnoxious office ringtone.
"Oh shit," she moaned as reached over me to the nightstand, trying to locate the offending object. After dropping it once and rolling her naked body over me, she fell onto the floor and answered it. Of course I just heard her end of the conversation until she went into the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the water so that I couldn't hear anything else. What I did get was:
"What the fuck - why are you calling me, it's 4:30 in the morning...I'm supposed to have the whole weekend off...Why in the hell can't Barb..."
That's all that I got. I didn't need to hear more to know that our fabulous weekend was coming to an end, and that I would not be getting a wonderful morning blowjob or fuck.
After a couple of minutes the water at the sink was turned off, but I heard the shower running. Eve returned from the bathroom a few minutes after the shower stopped. She was equal parts pissed and apologetic.
"I'm so sorry, Hon; those bastards at work need me to come it right away," she said as she picked up the "Go Bag" that she always had ready, and added a few things to it.
"What happened," I was able to hoarsely get out, still not fully awake despite the activity of the last fifteen minutes or so.
"Barb was supposed to handle things this weekend, but she got in some sort of an accident and we're at a critical juncture with a project so I have to go right away," she resignedly said. As she clicked her suitcase closed and locked it, she sat on the bed next to me, gave me a passionate kiss, and then said "I promise to make it up to you - and don't give my spot away. I hope to be gone no more than three days."
"OK," I mumbled out loud, and "Shit, three days more away from me?" to myself. "Safe travel," I called to her as she exited the room.
I heard her bustling a little in the den, then the front door opened and closed, and off she went. I peeked out the window in time to see her entering the back seat of one of the EIT black sedans which likely was driving her to the private jet terminal at the airport.
I was so wiped out from the previous night's sexual gymnastics and the long day that preceded it that I got back to sleep despite my angst at having my tranquility destroyed - not to mention the possibility of a delicious fuck or blowjob.
I finally dragged my ass out of bed about 9:30 a. m. I got dressed in casual clothes, made some breakfast, got the morning paper from the end of the driveway, and went into the den to read it. When I sat in my wheeled chair I happened to bump into the massive safe. The door popped open slightly. Obviously, in her sexually-induced stupor at 5:00 a. m., Eve had not - for the first time ever - properly closed up the safe. It required both a combination and key, and the key was still in the lock and obviously she had not twirled the combination dial.
I chuckled to myself, intending to close it right up, twirl the dial, and put the key in her desk (I didn't know where she normally kept it) and then rib her when she got home about not being able to protect national secrets. That plan became moot, however, when as I rose from my chair it again banged against the safe, and a photo fell out.
The photo was of my wife, completely naked, sticking one of her enormous, succulent, nipples into the face of a Middle Eastern-looking guy whose arms looked cuffed to his body.
As I picked both the photograph and my jaw off of the floor, a chill went up my spine. Even though I knew that what was in the safe was Top Secret, there was no way that I could not investigate further. I was compelled to find out what the hell the photo depicted - to try and find some sort of explanation, or at least context.
I saw that the photo had fallen out of a 10 x 13 inch envelope with security markings on it that obviously Eve had taken something out of and not closed up properly. I removed the envelope from the safe and, shaking, collapsed onto the chair and opened it up completely.
As I perused the contents of the envelope, I vacillated between sick, irritated, sad, deflated, and angry - but through it all I was mesmerized. The envelope contained the basic background of the most fascinating terrorist interrogation technique that I had ever heard of, some parts in very technical terms using psychologists' jargon, other times using laymen's language. It all started with what "EIT, Inc." was an acronym for: "Enhanced Interrogation Techniques, Inc."
The whole philosophy of EIT's approach was that for many detainees that they called "targets" - mostly known or suspected terrorists - waterboarding or other torture was only marginally effective. Usually during torture the target told the interrogator whatever he thought the interrogator wanted to hear, so the information had only a 5-10% probability of being accurate. EIT took a different approach. While EIT's operatives kept the targets uncomfortable, they never physically abused them but instead played with their minds. While they used a variety of approaches, the one of interest to me was called NFPW - Naked Female Psychological Warfare.
As far as I could tell, Eve - who was never referred to by name, but only as "Agent White" - was one of three female interrogators who employed the NFPW technique. All were psychology majors in college, and had gotten CIA and DIA training after graduation, although they were never technically employed by the U S Government. For situations where the NFPW technique was deemed to likely be effective, the target was restrained in a room with only two chairs in it. The "Agent" casually stripped in front of the target during initial low-key interrogation, and depending upon the reaction of the target used her provocative nakedness as either a carrot or a stick to entice answers.
How was it used as a stick? Some targets - supposedly for religious reasons - were completely embarrassed by the Agent's nakedness, especially if she made provocative comments. Under those circumstanced the target promised to talk if the Agent agreed to dress.
For the carrot approach, if results were favorable, tit sucking by the target, or sometimes even a little pussy rubbing, was allowed. Most targets were mesmerized by Eve's big tights, blond hair, and prominent clit, and completely opened up under her skillful questioning.
Apparently the Agents practicing NFPW were good at their job. The three of them obtained what checked out to be worthwhile intelligence 80-90% of the time. Not surprising to me, Eve was the best.
The envelope certainly explained Eve's travel. The interrogations were rarely conducted in the United States. Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, Saudi Arabia, and Italy, of all places, seemed to be the most common venues.
Emotionally drained, I finally put all of the photos, reports, and analyses, back into the envelope, put it in the safe, closed the safe door, spun the dial, and removed the key and put it in Eve's desk.
With the benefit of hindsight, what I should have done is just tell Eve that although the safe was locked that the key was in the door when I got up and that I put it in her desk; and then let it drop. I could have secretly sought professional help if I could not deal with what I had found out. After all, Eve had warned me several times that I wouldn't like what she did if I found out about it, and that her behavior indicated training that the average woman wouldn't have; but I had pushed ahead with love blinders on.
Instead of just dropping it, what I did do was confront Eve when she returned from her impromptu trip.
After I gave her a frosty hug and saw the puzzlement in her eyes I said "You left the safe open in your rush to get out Sunday, and some very revealing things fell out of it."
"What?" she said completely startled.
"You let terrorist suck your tits and finger you - what kind of a fucking job is that?" I angrily blurted out.
Her surprise was instantly replaced by her own anger. "Let me give you a real piece of advice, asshole. Don't ever, ever, ever tell anyone what you saw in that safe otherwise you will be prosecuted for expropriation of top secret material, if not treason. Plus I told you before you begged me to marry you that you wouldn't like what I did on my job, and now that you find out you complain? Fuck you!"
With that she turned and stormed out the door.
I was pissed and miffed at how strong her reaction was. Then I remembered back to when I did beg her to marry me, when she told me that if it ever came to a choice between me and her job that I'd lose. That sent another shiver down my spine.
Saturday I swallowed my pride and tried to call her cell phone. It had been disconnected. I never saw her the entire weekend, and was feeling really shitty when I straggled into work on Monday. That afternoon I was served with divorce papers citing irreconcilable differences. I called her attorney and asked for a meeting. I was told in a cold, unfeeling manner, that there would be no meeting.
When I got home from work on Monday not only were all of her possessions gone but so was the safe - there was only a hole in the floor where it used to be.
There were mysterious forces that I couldn't understand or resist working behind the scenes because the attorney that I hired was powerless to prevent the Court from sealing the record of our divorce (unspecified national security implications), and pressuring me to settle with a 50-50 split of assets. The judge himself made it clear that I fought the divorce I would be responsible for both parties' attorney fees and that my split would be lower. I had no choice but to settle. I never did see Eve, even at the final hearing granting dissolution of the marriage, which was concluded in record time.
After my divorce was final, if I wasn't clinically depressed, I was close to it. I found that, harking back to my pre-marriage days, I was pursued by a number of women. That resulted in a series of meaningless one-night stands because once a woman found out that I was damaged goods, her pursuit stopped. I finally went to see a shrink and got my act basically together about a year after my divorce, although I didn't get the same joy out of life as I did when I was married.
It was about four years after my divorce was final when Wyatt and Jill - I was still friends with them from our apartment complex days - invited me to go to a dance hall with them. I was single at the time, having just concluded one of three five or six month long relationships since I had gotten my act basically together. At first I was reluctant to go, feeling like a fifth wheel, but Jill insisted. "Maybe you'll meet the girl of your dreams there," she chuckled.
"I already did and let her get away," I deadpanned.
She punched me in the arm and said "Hope burns eternal in the human bosom, so no more Debby Downer bullshit; you're coming with us."
So I went with them.
The dancehall was quite a lively place, and there were a few single women there that were pleasant. I had had a half dozen energetic dances with four different partners when I was sitting at a table with Jill and Wyatt and a slow song started. Jill insisted that I dance with her, and Wyatt grinned his approval. A minute into the song a buxom brunette tapped Jill on the shoulder and asked "May I cut in?"
"Sure," Jill replied with a diabolical smile and then quickly exited.
Before I got a really good look at her face the buxom brunette said "Hi; my name's Amber Brighton," as she plastered herself against my chest with her head resting on my shoulder.
"I'm Brian McCarthy," I introduced myself without seeing her face.
"I know," was her terse response. There was something familiar about her.
"I've just started a new job in the HR department of a local office of a Fortune 500 company," she whispered as we danced. "I'm looking for a relationship with someone where absolutely nothing about the past is ever even acknowledged, let alone discussed. You interested?"
"Wow, you're direct, aren't you?" I chuckled. "How do you know that I'm decent relationship material, though?"
"Jill vouches for you. Plus, looking at you I'm sure that you're an awesome fuck, especially if you put a vibrator up my ass."
I froze on the dance floor, and moved Samantha arm's length away from me. It was Eve, with dyed brown hair, a few wrinkles on her face, but otherwise just as beautiful as she was four years ago; in fact there was something about the interplay of her azure eyes and her new hair color that made her even more intriguing. I don't know how long I just stood there speechless and gap-jawed, staring at Eve/Samantha while she had what I could only describe as a bemused grin on her face. Finally, she pulled me tight to her, again pressed her big boobs against my chest, and put her head back on my shoulder.
"I think that you'll find me your best ever in bed," she mumbled, "if you're agreeable to a start from scratch relationship."
My mind was in turmoil, but there was one thing for sure. I was NOT going to blow this opportunity.
"You talk a good game," I snickered; "are you willing to back it up tonight?"
She pushed away from me slightly. "Try me," she laughed, and then led me by the hand back to where Jill and Wyatt were sitting with shit-eating grins on their faces, obviously part of a setup.
"I'll be taking Brian home with me," Eve/Samantha chuckled as we passed Jill and Wyatt.
"Have fun, Samantha and Brian," Jill chortled while Wyatt just grinned.
Samantha and I did start from scratch. We never did even mention our previous relationship, and now that Samantha no longer worked for EIT, Inc., and no longer traveled on business, there were no lingering issues. By keeping my mouth shut about the past I get to use all of Samantha's holes whenever I want, and am truly in love and happy again. We got married (we did not consider it a re-marriage) within a year of when we danced, and celebrated our nuptials with a week-long fuck fest in Aruba.
