Sherry's New Job Ch. 01

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Sherry, Ray's wife yelled, as she swung the bedroom door open and glared in at him, where he lay stretched out on top of the blankets, his eyes squeezed shut and fingers working the shaft of his dick in frantic time to the images behind his closed eyelids. In a panic, Ray rolled himself onto his stomach, clutching the blanket across himself, face reddening.

"You are disgusting!" she exclaimed, as she strode to the closet. Catching his breath, Ray watched her as she held the towel across her body with one hand, the other pushing blouses across the bar, selecting just the right outfit to complement her slim frame, twisting and turning as she dressed to keep Ray's eyes from viewing more than a glimpse of her. . As his body calmed down, only one emotion crossed his mind – anger. "Why should I feel ashamed," he thought, "for taking care of myself. You sure as hell don't anymore." Since their daughter was born, two years ago, Sherry seemed to have lost all interest in sex. At first she didn't feel attractive anymore. Then she claimed to be too tired. Then she was just pissed off at Ray. Now "It seems like we've grown apart and I just don't feel that close to you anymore. Maybe I will again sometime," she had said to Ray the month before, when he had tried unsuccessfully to convince her to screw him on his birthday, "but we should probably go out on a few dates or to dinner first, try to rekindle what we used to have."

***

"Dates!" Ray exclaimed, peering across the clutter of empty draught glasses at Freddy, his old college roommate, "Can you imagine! We're friggin' married and she wants to turn me into some sort of goddamned gentleman caller out of one of those trashy romance novels she reads! Been there! Done that! The least I should be able to expect now is to be able to fuck my goddamn wife occasionally! But no! She wants me to come chasing after her with flowers and chocolates like some friggin' Prince Charming, and she knows eventually she'll get what she wants, just by keeping her goddamned legs crossed. It's unfair."

Freddy just gazed back, a smirk plastered across his face. Unlike Ray, Freddy hadn't married after college. In fact, he hadn't even really finished college. He had been suspended, and eventually tossed out, for supplementing his income with some of his newly learned skills as a Pharmacology student in creative – not to mention illegal – ways. Since then, he had moved through a string of casual jobs, unemployment claims, and black market activities, always making just enough money to keep up the payments on his crappy apartment and run down van. He was the last person Sherry wanted Ray associating with, but they were still best friends, and all week Ray looked forward to this hour or so spent gabbing in the bar at the back of the bowling alley, after the league had finished up for the night.

"So what's the problem? Get a hooker. They're not hard to find. Hit the right street corner any evening and you can have your pick. That should take care of you. I've told you – I've got a buddy that could help fix you up..."

"And how do you expect me to pay? With what?" Ray shot back. "You know she looks after the finances. I'm lucky to pry enough money out of her to come here every week."

Freddy was laughing. "You are so fucking whipped!"

"I am not!" Ray shot back, and then he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "OK. I guess I am. But it's a little too late to do anything about it now. I'm just so fucked."

"So not fucked, you mean," laughed Freddy. "Look, if it's just a matter of getting you laid, that I can help with. You've heard of Bangers."

Ray searched his mind until he remembered a story he had seen on the news. "Isn't it some sort of new date rape drug that's making the rounds?"

"That's the stuff. Still new. Hard to get. But I know a guy..."

"Of course you do."

"Anyway, drop one in a drink, and for the next eight hours any woman, even that tight assed bitch of a wife of yours, will do anything you say. Most women don't even remember after. It's perfect for you. I can get you one for Friday night."

"OK, get me one. But I don't know about this. Maybe I should talk to your buddy with the girls after all."

"Tommy?" Freddy laughed and grabbed a napkin, scratched an address on it, "Sure. I'll mention you to him. Here's where you can find him. But I'd use the pill. After all, if you're going to have some woman down on her hands and knees, performing every disgusting and humiliating sex act that enters your twisted little brain, wouldn't it be more satisfying when it's your wife, rather than some stranger?"

Ray tilted his mug to him in acknowledgement. "You are so right my friend," he thought. "You are so right."