"Myra's Little Book Shop"

No, I hadn't run away; it'd been a planned trip, but doing 'it' in my bed not more than a few hours after I'd left was way too much. I recall back at the airport I'd phoned a lawyer and got the separation proceedings started. Everything subsequent to that call was done by email. I stayed in Greece, traveled to Turkey, and then to Cyprus. Did I enjoy myself? NO! I was miserable. All I thought about was what I saw, what a surprise it'd been, how much it hurt, and how I wanted to go home and strangle her and slowly torture her cad boyfriend to death.

Did she have an excuse? She said she did; probably the lamest excuse anyone ever heard. I heard it through her mom and laughed my ass off. Not important anymore. She says she loves me, says she'd do anything for me; well I'll let her see how my second wife has fucked me over. Not too smart really; maybe I shouldn't do it. Hell no. Fuck it; let her see. It will remind her just what a skanky cheating bitch she was, I mean still is.

Zoey. I hate her! I hate her! I hate her!

I went up into the 'cloud' and pulled down everything I could, loaded it all on a couple USBs for safe keeping, and thought, well next visit to whore number one this Wednesday and I'll see about sending this stuff off to her. Tonight I'd start to yank the second 'Jezebel's' chain.

~~V~~

Myra normally closed her bookshop around 8:00 p.m. tonight she got home a little later. Not that it mattered, but I wondered if she might've stopped off to see her boyfriend. I could in the future check the GPS in her car, but I doubted if I would. Why bother? I'm not into masochism. She's a cheating bitch, and that was that.

She got in and asked, "Everything OK? How's the baby? Did you eat anything?"

I replied, "Baby's fine, everything's good, and yeah I ate. You?"

"Yes I ordered a cold cut from Jerry's Pizza. You said you got a fax from your agent? I texted him and asked about it. He said you'd tell me."

I'm not stupid; I'd called my agent and told him not to say anything about the contract. I replied, "You want to hear what they said?"

"Sure babe, but let me shower first."

I responded, "Good idea," Just to be shitty I added, "I thought you smelled kind of musky this morning. I don't remember. Did you shower before you left this morning? Don't smell anything now, but a shower now will do you some good regardless."

Her eyes widened at the 'musky' comment, "OK, I'll be down right after."

I lolled back in my lazy boy and recalculated what I planned to say. I was wearing a pair of jeans, a plaid button down shirt, and sandals. There was a reason for what I had on; it had been what Prendergast had been wearing earlier. I had my 'whoring wife'; maybe the clothes would be a reminder. God how I hated her; I hated her so much I couldn't and hadn't been able to eat. Just the same I had a script in mind.

Myra got back down maybe twenty minutes later. Hair still wet and in a towel, no makeup, wrapped in a terry cloth robe she plopped herself down on the sofa across from me. The evening before I thought of her as one of the most beautiful women I knew. Looking at her now all I saw was the whore who'd spread her legs for the slimy bastard who ran a great school. I felt dirty. Though I'd showered earlier, I felt like I needed to shower again just to wash the filth of the sight of her from my eyes. I didn't know how I was going to get through the next few minutes.

She gave me a 'bush shot' by crossing and re-crossing her legs. Did she think I was interested after what I saw? She asked, "Well honey; what did our agent say?"

'Our agent,' I thought, 'not for long.' I gave her a half smile, "You've read and reread the drafts of my novel. One of the editors and some other creative genius have come up with another idea; they want to expand the book."

My wife had read my novel, and she knew it was good. Incredulous she asked, "What do they want?"

"Well you know it's a love story shortly before the fall of Troy partially centered on Penthesilia the barbarian queen of the Amazons."

"Yes," my wife recalled, "it's a good subplot."

"Remember I portrayed Penthesilia as being sworn to a Trojan warrior, and throughout her portion of the story she'd eschewed the advances of one of Priam's sons?"

"Yes, yes, I remember, Deiphobus was the unsuccessful interloper."

"Well this creative person, a woman by the way, wants to rewrite it so that Penthesilia not only succumbs, but she eagerly succumbs to Deiphobus's advances."

"I don't like it."

I smiled to myself then added, "I don't either, but both of us know about infidelity. I was wondering. If I did recast Penthesilia as a cheat, how would I do it?"

Myra was fidgeting, "I don't know. I don't even want to think about it."

"Oh come on Myra; it's just something I could add to the story. Can't you think of something? Think about it; something like how or why a woman would turn aside a sacred pledge and sleep with another man. Gee it's a fiction story. Penthesilia's pledge was to Ares, a war God, not even a leading deity."

Myra was looking at me funny. I wondered if she was thinking back to that locked door. I added more gasoline for the fire, "Oh I saw Dr. Prendergast today. We were talking about you."

"Who?"

Boy she was good, "You know Dr. Prendergast over at Saint Agricola's. I met him at the coffee shop next to the bookstore. I reminded him about your store. He remembered and said he'd drop off some of the teacher's reading lists so you could stock up."

Myra sighed, "That was nice of him."

"Yeah, I thought so too. He said he might even drop in sometime. If he does, be on your best behavior. You know he has contacts with the other private schools. He could put in a word."

Myra sort of hemmed and hawed, "Yes, if he stops by I'll do my best."

"Ok, good. Now got any ideas?"

"Ideas about what?"

"Penthesilia and how I can get her to cheat on her warrior betrothed. You know break that sacred trust."

"Oh, let me think about it," she stood up and shook out her robe, "ready for bed?"

I stood up too, "No, I've got to go out."

"Out? Out where?"

"Oh forgot. Penthesilia, no shit, I mean Zoey called me. She asked if I'd come over later tonight."

"Something wrong?"

"It's the kids, Diana and Keith; they're older. Remember when we divorced they were too young to know why I left. Seems other kids at their school have been talking. Zoey wants me to help her explain it to them."

"Oh, think you'll be late getting home?"

"Can't say Myra; it's the summer. They don't have school. I might stay all night. You know, do the movie and popcorn thing."

Myra looked just a tiny bit worried, "They really still don't know?"

"Guess not. Guess Zoey thinks if we talk it out together it'll be a little less painful. Zoey's guilt you know."

"Um yeah; so you might be all night?"

"Yeah, let's plan on it. Want me to stop off someplace and get you anything?"

Myra stared at me. She knew how Zoey felt. She knew Zoey would do almost anything to break us up. She replied, "No, guess not. Call me though, if you need anything."

I smiled, "Sure sweetie." I got up, sauntered over to the sofa, and gave her a kiss, "try to think about the infidelity thing tonight."

"The..."

"You know Penthesilia. Try to put yourself in her place. I mean try to come up with some reasons."

She sat back, hands under her thighs, "Sure."

I pulled my keys from my pocket, stepped to and out the front door. I was going to visit Zoey, but not about what I'd said. Of course the kids still didn't know the details of our split; they only knew mom and dad had a problem. No, I was going to talk to Zoey about my problem with Myra. I'd decided I would try to get Zoey to look at the stuff. At the very least it would remind Zoey of what she'd done.

~~V~~

Zoey, she's been a problem. Sometimes I wished I'd never met her, then I think of Diana and Keith. Other times...well I must have loved her. Shit, who am I kidding? Somebody tell me the difference between love and hate.

My father, he warned me to never marry a medical liability. Stupid me; ever since I've known her Zoey's been a walking apothecary. Her biggest problem's been anemia, weak heart, hormones, spleen or something, needs iron supplements and all kinds of vitamin B stuff, plus some prescription that costs a lot of money. Stubborn little cow; hates to take pills. I used to have to force them on her each and every morning. Every morning the same bullshit, "Oh I'm good. I don't think I need them anymore. You know how much I hate those things; let's take a day off."

I don't care what she says or said; looking at her on her back on our bed, dress up around her hips, blouse all undone, and shithead's dick stuffed up inside her is something I'll never forget. No excuses, no explanations, none. I don't care. And no bullshit about it; I know I made her take those pills and tonic that morning. I know I did. I remember! I'm sure of it!

~~V~~

Zoey never finished college, that's another story, so she's never had a chance at a really good paying job. Just the same with a little help I found her something at the local public elementary school where our kids go; she answers the phones and such. She only works part time; she arrives with the kids and leaves with them. If she gets sick and can't work I kick in a little money to the school fund to offset any extra costs. She doesn't know that.

Oh what the hell; the other story? Zoey's not real good with the children thing. Oh she's a great mother; I mean problems with pregnancy and such. We were fooling around while I was in my sophomore year, she was a freshman. She got pregnant so I did my duty; I manned up and married her, probably would've anyway. Six months in she lost our baby; would have been a little girl. It hurt me, but tore poor Zoey's heart out.

I admit it I thought about cutting out after the miscarriage, but she was so helpless and her mom and dad were so helpful I just couldn't. Zoey's an only child so instead of them paying her way through college they paid mine. Now no one should tear their asses; I paid them back, most of it, well a lot it, some of it anyway.

We lived with her mom and dad while I was in school. After her 'accident' Zoey and I were careful about our sexual needs and took reproductive precautions. We were really happy then; kind of like living the fantasy.

We waited until after I finished undergraduate school before we started our family. I taught in a public high school during the day and took evening classes to catch my Master's. Then I quit teaching altogether and landed in a doctoral program. Zoey's mom and dad helped us along the way.

Well her mom and dad did a little more than help; her dad's a retired contractor, he's been on several boards, and he got elected to the county council a few times. I'll say this; he loves his daughter, he's absolutely crazy about our kids, me not so much.

Hey, it was her who cheated, not me! Besides I didn't know she was pregnant again when I caught her smacking the bed sheets with 'Shit for Brains' so the second miscarriage wasn't my fault! No guilt there, not for me. That's a whole nuther story anyway.

~~V~~

I was back at my old home a little after 10:00 p.m. Zoey was waiting for me. I suppose some people would think I'm foolish bringing my ex-wife into my marital problems, but who else could I trust, I mean really trust? Sounds stupid I know.

I got to the front door. She was waiting. She opened it and let me in. She was wearing this pretty little beige short sleeved partially opened button up blouse with those pretty little capped shoulders, Peter Pan collar, sleeves and collar slightly trimmed in lace. She wasn't wearing a bra; never did, so her pert little rose buds, like always, were peeking out at me. She looked good, especially with the dark plaid mid-thigh pleated mini-skirt. She had her hair back in two pig tails, the usual eye shadow and almost indiscernible pink lip gloss. No nylons, just shoes, brown lace ups with two inch heels, beige socks that matched her blouse. Damn her, the cheating bitch! I knew she was deliberately dressed like that just to lure me in.

She swiped me with one of her soft little smiles, "It must be important to bring you out this late."

I swept by her and marched toward the den; no way was I sitting in the living room on any sofa, not with her right beside me. As I walked past I said, "Yeah."

She followed me in. I took up my station in my old lazy boy. The bitch knelt, she curled up on the floor at my feet; she let her hand rest nonchalantly on my thigh, "So tell me."

"It's Myra."

Her fucking finger tips drifted nonchalantly along my thigh, "What about Myra?"

"I caught her with another man." As soon as I said it I knew I'd made a mistake.

Zoey leaned in closer, "I'm sorry Curt, but you know I'm here for you."

"That's what I figured," I had to get out of there, "Look I've got recordings, but there are so many hours I don't have time."

She read my mind, "You want me to look for you."

"It's a lot to ask, I know, but..."

She looked so concerned, "You look upset, and you should be. Let me to get you a Chamomile tea?"

"No, no; I just want...will you?"

I watched excitedly as she leaned back. Now kneeling right in front of me, leaning slightly forward, hands on my knees; I couldn't have missed a thing even if I'd closed my eyes. It wasn't rocket science, and my 'Johnson' was getting ready for blast off. Why her? Why? Why? Why? I needed to cross my legs or something.

She looked up, "You know I'll do anything for you," her hands went underneath my pants to my fucking ankles, "You know..."

I'd started to perspire. If I didn't do something I'd... I stood up. I knew coming over this late was a mistake, "You still use the same desk top?"

She nodded; as she got up she used her hands to climb up my legs, half way up her mouth was just a fraction of an inch from my crotch. She breathed, "Mm hm."

"OK, I'll send them tomorrow morning."

Her hands were on my hips, "You'll still be by Wednesday to see our children?"

I was so hard! She had to know. Robotically I answered, "Yes."

She started rubbing my waist. Oh she needed it. I wanted to drop back down, pull her over my knee, spank the shit out her, pull her damn panties down, and...

She smiled, blinked those big long lashes at me, and sang, "Good, we'll have dinner together. I'll make your favorite, steamed Alaskan crab legs. It'll be like we're still a family. Together we'll put the kids to bed, and then..."

God help me. I should've known coming over here like this... I grumped out, "No I don't want to go through all that."

Hands on my chest just under my chin; she got her sheepish hang dog look on. Ever seen a Labrador puppy stare at someone? She softly murmured, "Please, we've done it before."

I nervously slapped back, "No, not going to happen." I had to get out of there.

I watched her as she pretended to try not to cry, "Nothing ever does."

I slipped around her and got to the front door, "Just so you know."

She really was crying, just tears no boohooing. God damn her; the cheating fucking bitch! She followed me to the door and whispered, "I know."

I got my ass on the other side of that front door and breathed a sigh of relief; that bitch is one manipulative cheating piece of work. I scurried back to my SUV, got in, and backed down the drive. She was standing at the door as I pulled away. My pants were filled with expended semen. Oh that lying bitch, I hated her!

All the way home I was mad as hell. First I couldn't go home. I had to go to a motel. Second, why'd Zoey have to be such a cheating whore? Third, I knew I should never have married Myra, and now there's Wayne. Oh what the fuck, Myra, get Myra!

~~V~~

After picking up some cash at an ATM I spent the night at a Hampton. I'd dreamt about college, my first teaching job, and...back when, and woke up with blue balls and a hard on. I had their typically good breakfast, and got home a little past Myra's normal departure time. Of course the au pair was there. Myra had left a note asking me to call her when I got in. Just for spite I decided to wait an hour; that way she'd know I'd probably deliberately missed her.

Then I got a hunch; she'd be either at the counter or in the storeroom. I sat at my desk top and pulled up the monitors at the store; she was in the storeroom. I called, "Myra?"

"Yes, Curt I waited as long as I could. I needed to get to the store by 9:00 for a Federal Express shipment."

She was fiddling with some papers and had her phone on speaker so I asked, "Did you come up with any ideas about my novel?"

It took her a couple seconds to answer, but she said, "No, I think the editors are mistaken. The story's good the way it is."

I thought, 'Time to begin to turn the screws.' I hit her, "I've thought of one," I didn't give her a chance to interrupt, "let's say in the book Penthesilia's Trojan warrior wasn't a prince, a noble, just not a prince. I could say Deiphobus represented a rise in stature, kind of like her trading up. You know women nowadays do it all the time; husband works hard at the firm, wife get attracted by husband's more prestigious associate or acquaintance, she betrays husband for the status it brings, husband finds out and tragedy follows."

Myra put the papers down and replied, "No, I don't like that. It would make Penthesilia seem shallow, and she's not shallow, she's a courageous woman who loves her chosen man."

I replied, "Yes, she would seem shallow wouldn't she." I loosed another arrow, "Maybe it could be like the modern wife who wants more or better sex. We know women and men have similar if not exactly the same sexual needs, but occasionally there's the woman who wants more and bigger, the size queen. Maybe it could be a woman who wants a man with more stamina, or a stiffer, longer, thicker rod," I twisted the knife a little, "you've said I was better than your first husband that way. It could be something like that don't you think?"

She had her head down cupped in her hands so I couldn't tell anything on the screen, but her answer sounded lacking in confidence, "Uh, no. I mean, well uh, all men are basically the same size-wise, that's what I've heard, but for a mighty warrior woman like Penthesilia, a woman who'd had other men before her betrothed warrior, I think it would sound dishonest, I mean phony to the reader."

I agreed, "You're right; she'd be an incredible phony. No woman with any character would go that route." On the screen she seemed nervous. I dug deeper, "That's good I'm glad I'm getting your viewpoint. You've got character; you'd see the flimsiness of an argument like that."

She replied, "You should call your editor. The whole idea sounds wrong."

"No," I responded, "I promised to give them what they want, and a promise is a promise." then I squeezed out another shot, "Maybe it could be like the wife who saw some particular advantage other than sex or status, like today maybe the man who held some external key," I hit home, "Look let's say someone like Dr. Prendergast, no not him, he's too old," had to get a little dig in there, "but say a younger headmaster who could get his students to use your bookstore to buy their required extra reading materials. Suppose let's say this headmaster even worked a deal with you that he'd get a small rebate for his school if they used your store. That could work couldn't it?"

I got something this time, an obvious big sigh, and she absolutely sounded nervous. I think her voice had risen a decibel or two, "What would you say Penthesilia wanted?"

I shot right back, "Not jewelry or anything like that but, let's say a battalion of Deiphobus's best troops or maybe a special bodyguard as a gift."