Everything for the Career Ch. 03

(Hello all. And a big apology to all for getting this out so late. All parts of this story were written together, but I managed to find the time to flesh this part out only recently. Too busy with my real life, actually. I appreciate that many have told me they would like to see this story concluded. And as many have rightly pointed out, its not fair to start a story and then leave it halfway. Rest assured that was never my intention. I also understand that for people who have already gone through my first and second parts and then waited and waited and waited for the third may not quite get the same feeling that they did whilst reading the first and second parts as the time gap between them was too long. In that event, to get up to mark again, I'd suggest you read the first and second part again. That should, if nothing else, get you in the mood. Again, thanks for the support. Your communications and comments are what inspired me.

As always, bricks and roses to heavyheartlaments)

------------------------------------------------

ARTHUR'S SIDE

This was the first time in 15 years, that I had been without seeing Jennifer for so long. I sadly realized that this may well be the last time I am ever going to see Jennifer as my wife. I was divorcing her. Someone who is unfamiliar with my history, may be surprised that I was divorcing Jennifer over something as simple as her paying more attention to the career, after all, every couple goes through a time when either spouse pays more importance to the career. But therein lies the catch. The key here is 'goes through a time' rather than 'all the time', which was what it was in my case.

It was not that I was not sympathetic enough or supportive enough of my wife in her endeavors to reach the Vice Presidency, which was her life time career goal by the way. Its just that her passion for the post came at the cost of our married life, our sex life, including our agreement to not have children till she had achieved her goal. Its also not that I did not try to keep up with her demands. Most times, I did. When I did not, very occasionally, I apologized for my insensitivity and our life moved ahead.

But the problem was that for 15 long years, the sacrifices seemed to be one-sided. I was the one who seemed to be making them. Oh yes, there were superficial sacrifices that Jennifer made, like canceling a important client meeting because it was our wedding anniversary and so on, but I got the impression that somehow she cancelled only those meetings that were really unimportant, and she touted that it was important only because Jennifer wanted to show me that she cared about me. And let us not go into the time where she was at my side in the hospital as I suffered from jaundice, for just one day, while I was there for 2 weeks, my nurses and doctors feeling and caring for me more than she did. In case you didn't realize, after the one day of staying by my bedside, she was flying to Philippines the next day, to oversee the first month of operations of the new branch opened there. What FCB called its 'first foray' into Asia Pacific.

"You will recover and there are people to look after you here, nurses, doctors and so on, but if I miss the first month of the opening of the branch, and something goes wrong, the entire reputation of FCB will take a hit and we will have started on a wrong note in Asia Pacific, which is a very important market for us. Would you please understand?"

Of course, what's a man to say to that, so I let her go. And this was not the first time such a request arose from her. But that was the first time when I felt whether I had taken a correct decision in marrying her. The first time I questioned my commitment to her dreams. Was it not going a little overboard? Little did I know that this thought would really be proved an understatement compared to the rest of my life. And so life went on, with me doing everything I could to see her realize her dreams. And with her, also doing everything to realize her own dreams. Thinking back, I realize she had only asked me thrice during our entire married life what I wanted to do in life. I really have no idea how I finally decided upon to divorce her. I guess the little bits that grew up over the years finally culminated into this decision. I had really reached my limit.

So since last year past, I had firmly resolved to divorce her. I had a very profitable business, and had no qualms sharing it equally with Jennifer. I loved Jennifer, but I didn't have enough fuel in me to go like this for the rest of my life. I had reached the end of the road. Divorce it would be.

And the last week's incident of where she was promoted to Vice Presidency and informed me last, just reinforced my belief that I was taking a correct decision. It was, of course, entirely coincidental and unplanned that the day I chose to tell her about the divorce, was the day she was promoted. Maybe I should have stopped and thought about it. Maybe now that she had achieved her career lifelong ambition, she would realize that she was married and also had a duty towards her spouse. But I wouldn't place my bets on it. After so many years, why would she change? And I was too tired to second guess. So I decided to go ahead with it. Would this put a monkey wrench in her happiness? I really didn't care. I did not hate her. I just felt exhausted from all this life. I just wanted out.

I was really surprised the way our discussions went, my informing Jennifer, her calling out to me for a reconsideration, her parents trying to convince me of her mistake, which, of course was the totally wrong thing as that was not what took me on the road to consider divorce! My God, how misguided they were. They thought I was leaving Jennifer because she told me of the most important event in her life, last. And Jennifer thought I assumed she reached the top by sleeping her way with her senior management. What hurt me most however, was that neither my in-laws not Jennifer saw or understood what the problem was. And I was too tired to explain. Let God sort them out. I was not interested in a reconciliation. I was not interested in a catharsis. I was not interested in a revelation. I just wanted out because I was tired of being the one to step down in the mud for 15 long years. I left all of them crying as I banged the door and walked towards my car. I could hear my father-in-law screaming at Jennifer that it must be her fault, but really, he didn't have a clue and neither did Jennifer and my mother-in-law. And at this point, I really didn't care whether they would go through the rest of their lives having an misunderstanding about me or that the would never know why I really left them. I just wanted out of this marriage.

-----------------------------------------

JENNIFER'S SIDE

I walked out of Sterling's office, armed with a boatload of guilt and the desperate need to make up to my husband. But just how do I make up 15 years worth of anguish that I have caused him? How do I bring back those times he wanted to be with me and I was in the office working my ass off, trying to clinch that Vice Presidency position before someone else did? How can I repair the damage caused to my life where I have put the most important thing in my life, my husband, at the very bottom of the hierarchy of what I do? I had no idea. And that was worrying me sick.

I knew my Arthur very well. He always was very patient. But I am afraid my complete lack of empathy for his feelings and total disregard for our married life had pushed him over to the decision he had taken. 15 years is no small time by any reckoning. And most importantly, I was afraid whether I would be able to mend my relationship with him, the relationship that I should never have let go in the first place, afraid that it was already damaged beyond repair. Just what had I done to my life? I felt hot tears scald my cheeks again. I hated myself right now more than anyone else. And let us not even talk about the weight that I had on my shoulders brought on by my guilt.

But I forced those thoughts away as I caught myself from crying too much. Not here. Not in the reception. There would be a time for tears. There would be time for regrets. There would be time to beg for forgiveness, if need be, on my knees, but now, there was only time for action. I had to convince my Arthur that I understood now, how much it must have hurt to be ignored and be given a second class treatment for 15 years. To tell him that to hell with FCB and my Vice Presidency, I would put him on a pedestal and worship him forever, if he would, but, come home. But I knew that would not be so easy. Not this time. Arthur had been pushed over the edge by my inconsiderate behavior once too many times, but this time he was not coming back. I ignored the chill as it raised itself in my spine and decided to do something about my situation rather than bemoan about it. I would make it up to Arthur for the rest of my life. But before I did that, I had to find him.

I stood there at the reception for God knows how long. It was only when the cold air began freezing me that I realized I had to move. The weather had turned cold. But it could not match the cold, gnawing feeling in my gut that I may, just may, have to get used to living without Arthur, get used to living a life of loneliness. Just me and my Vice Presidency. And my realization of what I had done crystallized even further in my heart. I could not waste any more time.

I drove home as fast as possible. Once I reached there, I called Bernie.

"Jenny? Long time no hear from you girl! How's it going? Heard you made it to VP! And how's old Rock face?" He asked jovially.

Rock face was Bernie's name for Arthur. That's because Arthur took his business very seriously. It was the only thing he never did, or allowed others to, joke about. Bernie had tried a couple of times, and every time Arthur came away stone faced. Hence the name. But it was all in good humor.

"So, you guys house hunting or what?" He asked.

"Bernie, Arthur has left me Bernie. I need your help Bernie!" I spoke into the receiver. Straight to the point.

"What...? How did that happen... I mean, you guys....Arthur... Shit! What happened Jenny?" He asked. Completely disbelieving what he had just heard.

"Look Bernie, I'll update you later. But if I don't find Arthur now, I may get divorced Bernie!" I said, my voice beginning to crack.

"Divorced? You? With Arthur? Jenny? Child? What just happened?" He was also raising his voice now in concern.

"Bernie... Please. I need your help. I'll tell you everything in due course but right now every moment counts!" I reiterated again.

"Of...Of course Jenny! Whatever you say! What do you want?" He asked me.

"Bernie... Arthur has left me. But I know he is somewhere in this city. You are the city's largest real estate agent. You know not only people in property, but also guys from motels, hotels, inns and everywhere else... No hotel or motel will tell me if Arthur is there as its a violation of their guests privacy, but you they know! They'll tell you if Arthur is staying there Bernie. Bernie, I need you to find Arthur... I need you to find my Arthur for me Bernie, please!" I was almost crying now.

"Jenny, relax!" he said, "Now listen, you are like a daughter to me. I do not know what happened between you guys, but I swear I'll find where Arthur is put up Jenny. You can count on that. Relax. And don't cry for God's sake!" He continued, with steel in his voice.

"Thanks Bernie... I don't know how I can repay this favor?" I said, my voice sad.

"Just... Just be together guys, that'll be the best favor you can give me, okay?" He said.

"Sure. Thanks Bernie. And Bernie... you will be able to find him... will you not?" I asked. After the events of last week, I was not sure of anything.

"Don't worry Jen. Just give me three hours. I'll get him for you." He said. "As soon as a sixty-five year old man can" he added.

I knew the last sentence was just to cheer me up.

"And don't worry Jenny, he'll come back. Heck! He must be missing all that great sex from you eh?" He said, I knew it was to make me feel good.

"Thanks Bernie!" I said and put the receiver down. Tears stained my cheeks. I did not have the heart to tell him that for the past six months or so, we had not had sex. As I knew the Vice Presidency was within my grasp, whatever scraps of sex I allowed Arthur before that also stopped as I dedicated myself mind, body and soul to its pursuit. I felt like trash. Guilt overwhelmed me again like a tidal wave. I swore I'd let Arthur fuck me everyday for the rest of my life if he came back to me.

The call came five hours later and I was a nervous wreck by then.

"Jenny? Listen up, its me, Bernie. I've got it. He's staying at 'The City'. Its the hotel bang opposite the super mall. Do you know it or should I give you to complete address?" He said.

"I've got it Bernie." I said and disconnected. I knew which super mall he was talking about. It was the same one I had been to with my international guests at their end-of-trip shopping. The one which I had to attend, even at the cost of canceling my presence along with Arthur at his ceremony by some organization for giving him the 'Outstanding Businessman of the Month' award. I felt my tears start up again. God, this could NOT be. You had to give me SOME sense? At this point, I wouldn't marry me. God Arthur, what have I put you through? I almost started to get dry heaves, but I controlled myself. I had to go and get my Arthur back. Talk to him. All this could come later. And by God, better believe it, I was ready to fall at his feet and beg his forgiveness if it meant he would talk to me. But I just had to get my Arthur to talk to me.

I calmed myself, took a bath and put on fresh lipstick. Arthur hated it when I put rouge or mascara. And a simple blouse and skirt. Something which Arthur loved. And I was on my way towards my life's most important objective. To get my Arthur back.

As I drove, I began thinking of a way to approach Arthur. While it was good to think that I could fall at his feet, cry a lot and he would forgive me, it really was highly unlikely of happening. And even if I did physically fall at his feet, I had my doubts he'd still be moved. 15 years of anguish was goddamned too long a time to be able to washed over by a few days of apologies and serious talks.

This time, I knew persistence had to be the key. I realistically estimated that if we got along to only talking like before, on normal terms, within a year also, I would be happy. Also, no matter my tone, no matter what words I used, no matter how much I showed him I understood, he would still not be interested in making up with me. Not this time, so I had to be ready to give him lots of space and at the same time be ready for his every wish and whim. Show him that he was and would be henceforth, the single most important thing in my life. I would make up with him as I went along with him, do whatever he wanted, but for now, I just had to get him to talk. That's all. Just talk.

I reached the super mall, parked my car, and walked towards the hotel. I wanted to talk to Arthur. And I did not want to take even the slimmest of chances that he would see my car and get out of the hotel before we could talk.

I approached the reception and the man sitting there was reading some newspaper. I waited to get his attention then tapped on the reception table. He put the paper down, looked at me and grinned.

"Our boy sure is hot tonight, isn't he?" He winked at me.

"I beg your pardon?" I said, my voice suddenly very cold.

"Aw... Come on lady. I know that Arthur guy asked for you. He's already had two women coming daily since the last five days." He looked at me with triumph. I was frozen with fear and a long tendril of doubt crept up my mind. Was he... was he talking about MY Arthur?

God. No! This cannot be! My Arthur was a decent man. An upright man. He would never call a ... Well, a prostitute or an escort for sex. Never! No! NOT MY ARTHUR! My mind was reeling!

This cannot be happening to me. What if it was indeed my Arthur? Can he be capable of this? And then I thought about all the times I had ignored his needs, preferred sleep over having sex with him, gave priority to understanding the business laws in Asia rather than finding out what turned my man on, and I felt the chill overcome me again.

I was his wife. And he had to have forsaken others only for me. But then, when was the last time I did my wifely duties? When was the last time I sat with him and discussed what turned him on? When did I last have sex with him not because he wanted it, but because I wanted it to be good for us? And I began realizing that this problem ran far deeper that I thought it would.

"...oor! Okay?" The man said.

I snapped out of my trance.

"What?" I asked him.

"I said, Room No. 13, second floor! Got that?" He asked.

"Yes... I... I got that!" I said.

"Good. Go right up. And hey babe, he's already got those two back again inside. Dunno what he eats, eh?" He mentioned and returned back to reading his newspaper.

I was frozen by indecision. What if it was indeed my Arthur? No, it cannot be! But I had to see for myself. So I decided to go ahead. With shaky knees, I climbed up the stair and stood before Room No. 13. I knew one thing as I stood there near the door. If it was indeed my Arthur, I would just die. I would just fall there and die. No questions about it.

I took a deep breath and knocked at the door. The door was open, so during my first knock itself, it open slightly ajar. I waited but no one seemed to respond or take notice. So I pushed it with my hand gingerly and stepped inside. My face flushed as I could hear sounds of what was, very clearly, somebody fucking. I swallowed my fear and approached the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. As I neared it, I could hear moans, grunts and the sweet sick sound of a wet pussy swallowing up a cock and spitting it out again in an age old ritual of procreation. I could hear the bed creaking and a rhythmic clank of metal against the wall. I realized, much to my chagrin, that it would be the metallic plank of the headboard banging against the wall. Whoever were fucking inside, they were doing a very vocal and hard job of it.

I approached the bedroom as quietly as possible and then craned my neck to see the sight inside. I pulled my head back immediately, my heart in my throat and hot tears stinging my eyes. My heart was crushed and I could not breath. Dear God. MY LIFE WAS OVER!!!

There was no doubt. I saw it with my own eyes. God, I wish I could take the burning image out of my mind! It was my Arthur. MY ARTHUR WAS FUCKING TWO WOMEN!

And my world crumbled. I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a sob and then craned again.

Arthur was bestrode a woman. There was another black woman biting his shoulders even as two fingers were, in what I realized embarrassingly, Arthur's ass!! The muscles of his bottom moved of their own accord each time he laboured his cock into the woman at the bottom. As he bottomed out in her, the black woman shoved her fingers into his anus up to her knuckles. Her fingers were slick with what I could only guess as applied lubrication! Arthur was fucking the woman below laboriously. He hooked her legs over his shoulders so that her knees were almost touching her ears and she couldn't lower them or bring them together. All she was doing was taking the heavy fucking he was giving her and groaning and grunting into his chest and mouth.

The woman below was blathering almost incoherently. Her mouth was wide in an "O" and her tongue lolling out, licking the sweat and Arthur's chest. I could see now for the first time that she was an Asian. Looking between her thighs, I could see my Arthur's thick piston slogging in and out of her vagina. It seemed so wet. A white froth covered her vaginal lips and his cock. It was clear that he had already cum inside her several times. His sperm and her secretions were being roiled into white forth. That greasy liquid was so thoroughly lubricating her hole that Arthur was able to drive it to the very bottom of her vagina on every stroke. The smell of sex in the room was overpowering. The Asian girl had a very hairy vagina.