On The Train Ch. 02

"Corrine," Samantha replied. "Is he busy?" she asked, walking unabated toward his door.

"Nothing important," Corrine answered.

"Good," Sam said, opening the door, and walking in. I followed, without a word, and closed the door behind us.

"Sam? What brings you here?" a voice said while I was closing the door. When I turned back, I saw him, for the first time.

He had a little grey around the temples, and a few extra pounds around the middle. He was no movie star, just an average looking guy. I instantly disliked him. Of course, I already did, but now that I saw him, I realized that he probably was using some type of influence to get these women into bed with him. He just didn't seem to be in their league. He didn't seem to be in Samantha's league, either.

He sat. He didn't even stand to greet his wife, the schmuck.

"Who's this?" he asked, looking at me.

Samantha sat down, and crossed her legs, resting her hands on the folder in her lap.

"Frank, this is Alex," she said evenly.

"And who, pray tell, is Alex?" Frank said contemptuously.

"Alex is a paralegal, with my lawyer's firm, and he's here to witness this conversation," Samantha replied, levelling her gaze at him.

"Lawyer? Why do you have a lawyer, honey?" he asked, suddenly concerned.

"You're going to give me a divorce, Frank....an uncontested divorce. Alex is here to witness my serving you the papers, and you signing them. Today. Now."

A stern look crossed his face, and he picked up his phone.

"I don't know what kind of fucking game you're playing here, Sam, but I'm sure you won't mind if I have a witness of my own present." He punched a few buttons. "Corrine, could you come in here, please?"

The door opened, and the brunette stepped in, holding her notepad.

"Yes Mr. Fordham?" she asked.

"Take a seat, Corrine, and take notes," Frank said confidently. "It seems my wife is here to ask for a divorce."

I glanced at Corrine, and a brief look of relief crossed her face. Maybe she thought she was in line to be the next Mrs. Fordham? How could a woman, with whom a man cheated, ever trust that man not to cheat on her? Blind faith, or stupidity?

"I'm not asking, Frank. I'm telling you, and I'm not sure that you really want Corrine in here for this. You might regret it," Samantha said. Her voice was strong, without a hint of trepidation, but I knew she was terrified.

"She'll do just fine," Frank retorted. "Now what makes you think I'm going to give you a divorce, let alone an uncontested one? Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"No Frank, you're not stupid," Samantha answered. "You're a very astute businessman, but you've made a few mistakes. The first was assuming that I'm unaware of your activities."

"Activities?," Frank said sarcastically. "What activities?"

Corrine shifted in her seat, nervously. Her pen paused in mid air.

"Frank....you've been unfaithful. Adultery is grounds for divorce," Samantha replied. I knew that was hard for her, from our conversation in the car.

Frank could have been nominated for an Oscar. He'd obviously rehearsed his reaction before.

"Adultery? Honey, I have no idea what you're talking about! Why, I've never even looked at another woman since we've been married!"

There was a palpable pause. Samantha picked up the gauntlet, put it on, and made a fist.

"Really, Frank? How do you work without looking at your assistant, here?" she asked. "She is quite attractive. Is she good in bed, Frank?"

It was Corrine's turn to put on a performance.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Fordham.....but your husband has never been anything but professional. I don't know who you've been talking to....." Samantha held up her hand, silencing her.

"Don't lie to me. This is not opinion, or innuendo....and I warned you that you didn't want her in here for this. I have proof, Frank," she told him. "Proof I'd be willing to keep to myself, if you would just sign this consent." She pulled a page out of the folder, glanced at it, and put it on the desk in front of him.

"You know, Frank, I had no idea how wealthy we really were, until you forced me to look into things more closely. When I think back to our early days, just scraping by, both of us sacrificing everything for this business....it's a wonder we survived, but we did. Remember when I used to work here with you, doing Corrine's job, because we couldn't afford to hire anyone else? Now look at it."

Frank had been reading the document she had given him. He tossed it aside.

"You've got to be joking! You expect me to sign that?" he gasped, angrily.

"Yes, Frank, I do," Samantha said quietly. She stared him down.

"Here's what I think of your request!" he snapped, grabbing the page, and tearing it to shreds. Samantha laughed.

"I had a feeling you'd do something theatrical and rash like that," she smiled, pulling out another copy. "I've got two more, if you need to throw another tantrum." She sat forward, and glared at him. "I'm telling you, Frank....don't test me. I've been very fair up to now."

"Fair? Are you fucking nuts? You call it fair to demand 90% of our assets, plus the house, plus your car, and the beach house? You're insane if you think I'd agree to that!" he thundered, standing ominously. I stepped in.

"I think you should calm down, Mr. Fordham," I warned him. "Don't add to your problems."

"Fuck off, you snotty twit! I haven't even done anything, and my wife is making these unreasonable....insane demands? Then you tell me to calm down? Get out of here!" he snarled. Samantha didn't move.

"Sit down, Frank!" she barked. "If you want to contest this, that's fine with me. I'll settle for half....of everything....including this place....and everything will become public! Believe me, you don't want that to happen. It will cost you much, much more that way. This is your last chance. Sign it." She handed him the page, and he crumpled it up, throwing it across the room.

"Okay," she sighed. "In the interest of saving us all a lot of time, money, and effort, I'm going to give you one final opportunity to do what's in your own best interests."

She opened the folder, and flipped through the pages.

"Ah, let's start with this one....the first one, that I know of, anyway," she said, handing Frank a paper. "That's a copy of a DNA report, run on a pair of your underwear. As you can see, there are three columns there. The first sample is you, my husband. All those numbers and bars, that's you, your DNA fingerprint. The last column, is me. My DNA, run as an example of the only female DNA....vaginal contributions....that should be in your underwear." She tapped the page. "This one, here, in the middle? We don't know who that is, but somehow, her pussy juice landed, by some miracle of coincidence, on your cock, then into your underwear. My guess would be that she's in this building somewhere, but that's not important now."

Frank's bravado was beginning to crack, and Corrine looked a little more than merely interested in the report. Perhaps she thought she was the first.

"Still, don't feel like signing?" she jabbed. "Alright, let's try these ones," she produced more pages. "Same you, same me....different mystery guests, although, at least these ones are all the same girl, and this is a solo. One night stand, Frank? You really should learn to have a shower after you fuck a strange woman. But then, I suppose you thought I was too dumb to notice."

Frank's face was red. So was Corrine's, but where he just looked embarrassed, she looked angry. Samantha stepped on his throat.

"Lastly, we have these six. Now, five of them, including this one here from two weeks ago....incidentally, that's on your business trip, Frank.... these are all the same woman. Different from the others, but all the same girl. I'm quite sure that this woman," she tapped the middle column again, "is in this room."

Corrine squirmed in her chair.

"What No comment? Care to give us a sample, just to exclude you, you fucking idiot? Do you really think you're anything more than just a piece of ass to this bastard?" Samantha spat. Corrine said nothing.

"Now, here's the kicker....and remember, I told you to keep her out of it," she jabbed her finger at the stunned brunette. "This one's especially interesting. It's not Corinne, but it's during the period covered by these ones," she added, gesturing to the Corinne pile. "Yes, I'm afraid he cheated on you, too, honey. What makes this one even more unique, is the fact that we know who it is."

Frank's eyes closed. He was beaten, but Samantha wasn't going to let him go yet. She had warned him. She had asked him. She had begged him, but he had forced the issue.

"I was surprised at this one. She's in the system! Not that she's a felon, or anything. She's one of those kids that had their DNA taken as a measure against sexual assault."

Corrine gasped at the word 'kid', and looked at Frank in horror.

"Oh, don't worry, honey," Samantha said softly, looking at the shocked secretary. "He's a cheating scumbag, but he's not a paedophile. She's nineteen, now, and was eighteen when he fucked her two months ago. She's also the daughter of one of Frank's best and biggest customers."

Game, set, and match. Turn out the lights, the party's over. The fat lady has sung, and Elvis has left the building. Frank, you're a dead man.

Corrine stood abruptly, glared at Frank, and dropped her pen and pad on his desk.

"You fucking bastard!" she hissed, and spun on her heels, storming out.

"I told you to keep her out of this," Samantha growled. "Now it would appear you're also looking for a new assistant. Was she a good fuck?"

Silence filled the room. I continued to stand behind Samantha, as she sat quietly, waiting for Frank to speak. Finally, he did.

"Sam, I...."

"Don't apologize, Frank," Samantha cut in. "I didn't come here for an apology, or a reconciliation. There's nothing you can say that means anything to me, anymore. Your actions are beneath contempt, and you obviously don't love me, or respect me. I'm here to dissolve our marriage, Frank. It's over. The only question left is how hard you want it to be. You may not believe it, but I'm actually being quite reasonable. I'm not asking for alimony, and I'm not asking for my half of this business. Sign the papers, give me what I deserve, and keep your company intact. You'll be back on your feet, fucking everything in a skirt, in no time."

"I never meant to hurt you," he whispered.

"Well, you did. You hurt me deeply. Prove that you're sorry, Frank... Sign the papers, and let me go." There was pain in her voice now. The anger, which powered her through her destruction of his resistance, was spent now, and she was left with only the sadness of knowing that a man she loved and trusted had treated her like a doormat. Her marriage was over. No woman ever wants to think that could happen. Prince Charming is not supposed to turn into Charles Manson.

Frank picked up his pen. He hesitated, then pressed the writing implement to the page, signing his name. He held the pen out to Samantha.

"I have my own," she said, and put her scribble on the appropriate line. She handed me the pen, and pointed to the witness line, where I signed as well, and dated it.

Samantha signed and dated one of the other copies, and left it on Frank's desk.

"Thank you, Frank. I'll take this to the lawyer, and get things rolling. We may need you to okay some of the asset liquidation.....stocks, mutual funds, that sort of thing, but I'll let the lawyers talk to each other about that. I think it would be best if you slept elsewhere from this point on. If you need anything, let me know, and I can pack some stuff for you," she said quietly.

"My clothes, please?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied. "Just tell me where, and I'll have them brought to you."

"Thank you, um, honey," he mumbled. He didn't know what hit him. An hour ago, he was under the impression that his philandering ways were unknown, and unpunished. Now, he felt the consequences.

***

We were in the elevator, on the way down to the parking lot, when Samantha broke down. She fell into my arms, sobbing, gasping desperately, her body shuddering as the emotions poured out with the tears.

The doors opened, and I led her out, taking the keys from her hand. I opened the passenger side door.

"Alex, can you hold me, please? Just for a few minutes?" she asked, sniffing back tears.

"Of course, baby," I replied. Since the front seats were buckets, and the steering wheel was an obstacle. I closed the front door, and opened the back, guiding her into her seat. I then went around to other side, and climbed in myself.

She was waiting when I slipped in beside her, and when I lifted my arm to allow her in, she pressed her body against mine, resting her head on my shoulder. She was still crying, but the devastation had waned. The worst was over. She had confronted her fears, and her husband, conquering both. The rest of the process was just legalities.

We sat quietly, for about fifteen minutes, as her tears slowed, then stopped. I just held her close, stroking her blonde mane gently. Her breathing eased, becoming even and relaxed.

"Okay, Alex," she whispered. "I'm alright now. You can let me go."

"Never," I replied. "You do realize that I've fallen hopelessly in love with you, don't you? I know I'm moving too fast, but I can't help it. You're the most wonderful woman I know, and I can't possibly go on without you in my life."

Samantha lifted her head, and kissed me softly. She sniffed, tearing up again.

"Alex, you're killing me!" she blubbered. "I just dealt with one emotional extreme, and now you dump the other one on me?" She put her hands on my face, and looked deep into my eyes. "You won't have to go on without me, I promise, but can we file the divorce papers first?" A weak smile touched her lips.

"Sorry," I smiled. "I guess I'm not immune to intense emotions. Got a little carried away."

"Give me the keys," she asked.

"You've been through a lot," I told her. "I'll drive....you navigate."

"Oh, alright," she smiled. "Can I stay back here?"

"Of course, Ma'am. Do I get a chauffeur's cap?" I laughed.

***

We dropped off the signed documents at her lawyer's office, and then headed back to drop me off. Sam was back in the driver's seat now, and we pulled up to park by my entrance. She stopped the car, and killed the engine. I was surprised when she opened her door. I expected her to head home.

"Alex, do you really think you can tell a woman you love her, and then walk away?" she smiled. It was a full wattage smile. "The papers are in the hands of the lawyers. I've done everything I can for now. I think we should go inside, and you can tell me how you feel about me again, and....well....maybe you'll get lucky," she winked. "Maybe I'll get lucky."

Maybe?

We barely made it inside the door before hands started to fly. We mauled each other frantically, kissing and moaning.

We never made it as far as the bedroom. We never even bothered to get naked, instead just baring what had to be accessible. I bent her over the kitchen counter, with her skirt peeled up over her hips, and yanked her panties aside, spearing her juicy cunt with one deep stroke. Reaching around from behind, I grabbed her big tits, and pulled her upper body back up, nibbling on her neck while I fucked her.

"Oh jesus, Alex.... Yes honey! I'm yours! Take me hard!" she gasped, unbuttoning her blouse quickly. She pulled it open, and reefed her bra up over her boobs, giving my hands free access to her beautiful, round globes. I held her, pounding into her from behind. Our zeal knew no end. It was a frenetic, desperate coupling, that ended with us cuddling on the kitchen floor after very satisfying orgasms from each of us.

"I can't recall ever doing anything quite like that with Frank," Samantha whispered, her head resting on my chest. "Thank you. It's nice to feel like I can still inspire that much desire, especially at my age. You make me feel special."

"Samantha, you are special," I replied, kissing her hair, and caressing her shoulders. "I've never felt this way about anyone before."

She sat up abruptly.

"Hold that thought," she smiled, struggling to her knees. Her blouse was still open, and her skirt up around her waist. I couldn't help looking at her, wanting more. "Come on....let's have a shower, and go to bed. I have a feeling you're about to get mushy again, and it's more comfortable in there for the inevitable physical consequences of those emotions. Not that the kitchen floor is bad, but your bed is so nice, and soft."

She was on her feet by now, perched on her high heels. She peered down at me between her breasts, and extended her hand to help me up. As I took it, I noticed my cum dribbling slowly down her inner thigh.

A few minutes later, we were embracing under the warm spray of the shower. She was warm and soft in my arms, and I wanted this feeling for the rest of my life. Our lips sought each other's, while our hands caressed wet skin with reverence. We stayed in the shower for longer than necessary, reluctant to release our grip on each other.

Finally, we turned off the water, and stepped out. I dried her body, inch by inch, patting her gently with the soft towel, and kissing the delicate pink skin as I went. Once I had claimed all of her, I scooped her up, and carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the mattress. She looked up at me, with a loving look on her face.

"Alex, you've changed my life forever," she smiled, taking my hand in hers as I laid down beside her. "I don't think I can ever thank you enough for showing me....reminding me....what life is meant to be like."

I gazed at her, laying there, in all her naked perfection....in my eyes, at least....and felt a mix of emotions.

Mostly, I felt love for her. If I were given the tools to design my ultimate woman, both physically and emotionally, she would be that model.

Mixed with the love, however, was some guilt. She was thanking me for changing her life, but the truth is that I did what I did for totally selfish reasons. I paid attention to her on the train hoping to get close enough to seduce her. I may have changed my feelings along the way, but I didn't begin with the most altruistic motivation.

"I didn't really do anything," I told her. "Nothing any man wouldn't have done."

"Oh, I know....plenty of men have tried to get me into their beds over the years," she giggled. "Some of them even made me seriously consider it, but that was just plain, physical attraction. There was something different about the way you looked at me, though. I don't know why, but it got to me. Sure, you wanted a piece of this," she smiled, gesturing to her luscious body, "but you never lied to me to get me here. Honesty, is very attractive, especially to a woman who's living in a dishonest relationship. You showed me that I could trust, again....maybe even love again. I'll always be grateful for that."

There was really nothing to say. Samantha said it anyway, lightening the mood which had become very intensely emotional.

"So, what's this I hear about you 'having fallen hopelessly, desperately, totally in love' with me?" asked, with a little grin.

"I never said 'desperately'," I laughed, "but 'totally' might be appropriate. Yes, I remember saying that. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all," she purred, pulling me on top of her. "You've said it....now show me. Make love to me."

I did. We did. Nearly two glorious hours of slow, sensual, languid sex, filled with emotional connection, followed. Very few words were spoken. Very few words were needed.

***

Samantha went home that evening. Just in case Frank was suspicious, we decided to keep things very low key for a while. At least she had the divorce details to distract her. I had sampled paradise, and now had to see it every day, without being able to visit. It was killing me.