Tricia: Settling the Score

I almost burst out laughing when Archie nearly jumped out of his skin when I yelled BAM! and clapped my hands together at the same time. He was starting to get awfully jumpy, and that just strengthened my determination to make him pay. He drained the beer then stood up to leave.

"I ... I guess I'd best be going," he said. "Uh, thanks for the beer. Sorry to hear about your wife. Hey, are you selling the place?"

Apparently, he'd just then noticed the for-sale sign in front of the property.

"Yeah, too many bad memories," I said. "This was supposed to be our place, and there are too many reminders of Tricia here. I'm selling it and getting another retreat somewhere else."

"That's too bad," he said. "Well, I hope everything works out."

"Oh, it will," I said. "Later."

I had an ear-to-ear grin on my face as I watched him walk back toward his house. I was feeling better about life than I had in months. I had a date that evening with a hot-looking blonde and I was finally taking some action against the man who had done me wrong.

Carla looked ravishing when I picked her up at her house. She had on a tight red cocktail dress that showed off a great pair of legs and her perfectly shaped tits.

During dinner, Carla asked me about the demise of my marriage, and I told her – without naming names – and I asked her how she'd gotten to 31 without getting married, and she simply said she hadn't found the right man she wanted to settle down with.

The subject of Archie did come up in a roundabout way. We were talking about the cabin and she happened to mention the fact that he was living there. Apparently, he was a fairly well known person in the town, a former high school football star who had disappeared mysteriously, then reappeared just as mysteriously.

I'd known about his athletic career – it was one of the things we'd always had in common – but I was intrigued by what the locals thought of the guy.

It seems that opinion was mixed. Some of the men in town seemed to like him all right, but most of the women in town, especially married women and their husbands, distrusted him. I was left to wonder if he had pulled something like what he did with Tricia with a few of the locals.

In the end, it didn't really matter. He'd done it to me – to us – and he was going to pay a steep price for it.

As the night wore on, there was obvious mojo going on between us, and our hands did some preliminary exploring of each other during our meal, and we kissed furiously and passionately when we got in the van after dinner.

If the boys hadn't been back at the cabin by themselves and if I hadn't had business to attend to that night, I'd have probably taken her up on her unspoken offer to spend the night.

As it was, we made a date for the following weekend, when Tricia would be taking Charlie and Ryan with her to spend a week with her folks and I would be alone at loose ends.

A light was still on at Archie's place when I drove by, so I made a show of getting settled in. I changed into some dark clothes, including a dark baseball cap, and got my tools ready.

I had to wait awhile, because the boys were up pretty late playing video games, but finally they went on to bed and the cabin went quiet.

I had on soft-soled shoes that made no sound, and the moon had already set for the night, so it was pitch-dark out as I quietly slipped out the back door.

I thanked the stars for the rural, isolated area where people in the country didn't feel the need for a security light or a motion-detector light. It made this job possible. I walked stealthily toward Archie's place, guided only by a penlight and made my way to the carport where his truck was parked.

The cabin was quiet and dark as I took up my position behind the side of the truck that faced away from the house. I found the brake line and small file on the rubber hose. I picked a spot about a half-inch or so from where the line connected to the brake drum of the rear wheel on that side, and worked there.

I worked on it for maybe 10 minutes, until I felt like the hose had been weakened enough, then I took an ice pick and carefully gouged a hole right where I'd abraded the rubber. Sure enough, a slow drip of brake fluid began to leak from the hose.

I smiled in satisfaction as I put my things in my jacket pocket and slipped back to my cabin. I had done my part; the rest was up to the fates.

If he somehow saw the leak and got the hose repaired, then I'd have to resort to some other more direct tactic, or I might just let it go and make him keep thinking I was going to do something to make him sweat indefinitely. But I was pretty confident that he wouldn't suspect that I'd tampered with his truck.

Nothing happened through the next week, and on Friday, I got home from work to find the boys packed and Tricia sitting at the table wanting to talk privately.

"Charlie said you had a date last weekend when you were up in the mountains," she said. "How'd it go?"

"It went pretty good," I said. "I'm going back up tomorrow and spend the weekend with her. Why? What's it to you?"

"Oh no, no, I know we're not married any more and you have the right to a sex life without any consideration for a wife," Tricia said, and I could tell she was on the verge of tears. "I don't know. I guess ... I guess I was still holding out hope that you still loved me and that we might some day get back together. I know it's a slim chance, but I thought if you weren't seeing anybody, there might be that chance."

"Tricia," I said with more warmth than I expected. "A part of me does still love you, and probably always will, but our marriage is over, and we need to move on. Maybe – maybe – in a couple of years, three, perhaps four or five, it may happen, but right now the hurt is too new, too deep. We were together for 17 years, and now it's time to see what the rest of the world has to offer. I'm getting back in the game, and I think you should too. It's not good for you to sit in your little house and mope around about what's in the past. It's over, done. You're too young to give up on yourself. Get out, even if it's just with friends from work. You never know if you don't try."

"As always, you're right," she said, standing up and giving me a hug. "You know, I think back to that weekend and I wonder just what in the hell got into me that would let me do that to you. I'll never be able to forgive myself for that. I fucked up a good marriage, so I don't deserve any consideration from you. But I do thank you for at least giving me that little bit of hope to hang onto. It means a lot."

"Just don't hold your breath waiting on me," I said, holding her face in my hands. "And don't get upset if I do find someone else that I want to commit to, and I won't get upset either if you find someone else. There are a lot of things that can happen."

"I know," she said finally. "Just be careful."

I arrived at Carla's house to find her dressed – using the term loosely – in a hot pink bikini that showed off liberal amounts of her nicely-tanned flesh, especially her taut butt.

"Grab a beer out of the fridge, get your suit on and come join me on the patio," she said, with fire in her eyes.

I got my little overnight bag, and changed into my swimsuit, then fished a beer out of the refrigerator and walked out to see what happened.

Right then, I was damn glad I'd taken emotional refuge through the winter in a renewed fitness program. I took out a lot of my frustrations on the weights at the YMCA, pushed myself with sit-ups and push-ups and punished the speed bag I hung up in the basement, pretending it was Archie's head that I was pummeling.

Although I wasn't terribly tanned, I was pretty fit for a guy in his early 40s, and my arrival on Carla's patio earned me a wolf whistle from my realtor. I returned the favor, and I could feel my cock tingling, because she was laid out on the lounge chair oiled and sexy.

We chatted for a few minutes than I dove in the pool and swam a few laps, enjoying the cool water and the physical exertion.

When I reached the end of one lap, I looked up to see a stunning vision. Carla was standing by the edge of the pool and she had discarded her bikini. I climbed out of the pool, and we melded together, our hot mouths working frantically, our tongues dueling like swordsmen.

"I want you bad," she whispered when we broke for air. "I've waited all week for you, and I'm tired of waiting."

I looked around, noted the high privacy fence and went for broke. I gently pushed Carla back until she was lying on the lounge again, and I stood over her, feasting my eyes on a glorious sight.

Carla's tits were perfect, just big enough to grab onto without being excessive, her stomach was flat and her juicy pussy was on display, framed by a well-trimmed pubic bush the same golden color as her hair.

"Fuck me, Rob." She panted, as I slid by suit to the ground.

My cock was hard as a brick and waving in the air as I approached her. She was staring at it, and licking her lips. I'm not a braggart, but I do have a pretty nice cock, fairly long and pretty meaty, and I've never ever left a woman unsatisfied. Whatever it was that drove Tricia that weekend, it wasn't a lack of good sex.

But first things first. I knelt on the towel that was spread on the ground in front of the lounge, opened Carla's legs wide and dove into her luscious box face first with a real sense of gusto. I slithered my tongue up her hot furrow, lapping up the flow of juice and rolling the tip of my tongue over her clit.

Carla squealed in delight as I brought my oral experience to bear on her twitching twat. I could feel her well-manicured fingers raking through my hair as she urged me on with ever-increasing cries of lust.

Just about the time I felt her pussy start to contract, and heard her delirious moans start to mount, I pulled my face away, took up my position between her legs, aimed the head of my cock for her flaming pink gash and drove in all the way to the hilt in one glorious thrust.

Carla gasped and screamed as a powerful orgasm shook her whole body, but I was beyond any semblance of control. I picked up her legs, leaned forward and fucked her absolute abandon, and she was equally abandoned.

Quickly, the backs of my legs started burning, and Carla regained a little bit of control. With a smile that suggested something delightfully wicked, she got me to withdraw and lie back on the lounge chair. At that moment I'd have done anything she wanted me to do.

As soon as I was flat on my back, she gripped my cock tightly, straddled my hips in a reverse position and slid her molten pussy down onto my upthrust pole.

Carla was gasping, moaning and squealing as she rode my cock at a measured pace. I can't describe how good she felt at that moment.

As I worked my cock up and down to meet her corkscrew motion, I felt a lot of the pent-up rage that was still lingering flow easily out of me. I had forgiven Tricia, now I could forgive myself for letting it happen. I could truly move on with my life.

It was with that thought in mind that I gently pushed Carla over so that she was on her knees, with her gushing cunt thrust up to the sky.

I knelt behind her on the towel, rammed my cock back into her and began to pound her hard. I could feel the rusty tingle of incipient release, and I was ready. And so was she. She looked back over her shoulder as she worked her hips back and forth, and said she wanted to taste me.

I just nodded and concentrated on maximum pleasure. Just about the time I hit the nut strokes, I managed to gasp out an, "I'm ... comin'!"

Carla slid her hips away from me suddenly, turned around quickly, just in time to open her mouth as I stood up and fisted an absolute king cumshot straight into her mouth.

She squealed and cooed as I unloaded on her tongue, on her lips, on her chin and on her tits before she took the head of my cock into her mouth and gently sucked the last oozing spurts down her throat.

When my cock was finally drained of everything I'd had stored in my balls for several weeks, Carla stood up and kissed me deeply, and I got a good taste of my own cum.

That set the tone for a wild weekend of unbridled sex.

We took a dip in her pool and fucked right on the steps leading into the shallow end, then we showered, dressed and grabbed some groceries. I grilled a couple of steaks, we ate, then we retired to her bed where we fucked all night.

She sucked me off, I tongue-lashed her to a frothy climax and finally I fucked her ass before we collapsed in sweat-soaked exhaustion.

When I left on Sunday night, I wasn't sure if I was in love, but I was sure in lust, and that was enough for the moment.

It was Thursday afternoon when Carla called me at the office, sounding a little excited.

"Guess what happened this morning," she said.

"I don't know, try me," I answered.

"You know that guy that lives in the cabin next to yours?" she said, and my heart literally stopped.

"Yeah, Archie?" I said, trying not to let my emotions show.

"Yeah, well, he was killed in a car crash this morning," Carla said.

"What!" I cried, feigning surprise. "What happened?"

"According to the paper this afternoon, he was driving into town for some reason, maybe a job or something, and he lost control on one of the hairpin curves on the mountain road," she said. "The sheriff said his brakes must have failed, because his truck missed the curve at about 70, broke through the railing, rolled several times then hit a tree and burst into flames. He was thrown from the truck before it hit the tree, but he was dead by the time anyone got to him."

"Well, you know, that's a pretty dangerous stretch of road," I said. "But you'd think someone who'd lived up there as long as he had would have known to make sure his brakes were in good shape. Did the paper say anything else about it?"

"Not really, but it did kind of fill in his background," Carla said. "Turns out he did a stretch in prison in another state for a sexual assault when he was in college. Makes you wonder about the guy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," I said.

We exchanged a few pleasantries then she hung up, and I sat back in my chair. Slowly, a smile creased my face.

"If you play, you'd better be ready to pay," I whispered to myself. "Good riddance, you sorry son of a bitch."

And with that, I put him out of my mind and resolutely looked to the future.

------

It's been more than three years since the day Archie drove off the mountain, and a lot has changed.

After a summer of butting heads with increasing rancor, Charlie and I decided he'd be better off living with his mother. She'd always been much better at handling him and his mood swings than I had, and his departure seemed to bring some calm to the house.

About a month after Archie's accident, I got a visit from the investigators from that county asking some questions. Seems they had found a spot where the brake fluid from Archie's truck had leaked onto the ground and they were following that as a possible lead.

I told them what I knew, which wasn't much, and I don't think they suspected anything. And, in truth, I don't think they were terribly interested in finding out anything. It was just a formality they had to check out, and after a 20-minute conversation, they thanked me for my time and left.

I never heard anything more about it.

In September, Carla called and told me she had a buyer for the cabin. In accordance with our divorce agreement, Tricia and I split the proceeds from the sale in half. I used my share to buy a medium-sized, modestly priced motor boat, and that became a major part of my social life.

Without the cabin, there really wasn't a compelling reason to go back up to the mountains, and my relationship with Carla faded away. It was hot and heavy while it lasted, but once we got past the physical nature of our attraction, there really wasn't much there.

I subsequently dated a parade of women, bedding most of them, and Tricia took my advice and started dating some guys.

But neither of us found anyone we really connected with, and when I found myself without a date for my company's Christmas party last year, I called Tricia and asked her to go with me.

It was like old times, like we'd never been apart, and the next day I made a reservation for a room at a downtown hotel whose penthouse club hosts one of the city's biggest New Year's Eve parties and asked Tricia to go.

We rang in a new year of renewed promise, then went to the room and made love like we had so many times before, and it was honestly one of the best experiences of my life.

There was a maturity, a slow, simmering satisfaction to it that was so unlike all the frenzied couplings we'd engaged in with the other lovers we'd had over the previous two years.

Since then, we've pretty much dated exclusively, but even though we've spent plenty of nights together, we still maintain separate lives.

Recently, we've started talking vaguely about remarrying, but I'm still a little hesitant to take that step, and make that commitment to her. And, to her credit, Tricia's not pushing it. She knows how badly I was hurt by what she did, and she knows trust is still a fragile thing between us.

Honestly, we may never get to the point where we completely bury the past and totally commit to a new marriage, and if what we have now is all we ever have, then that's enough for both of us.

Occasionally, I think about old Archie, and his demise. I wonder if, in those last few seconds, when he pumped his brake pedal and nothing happened, he thought about me and realized that I'd fixed him, but good. I hope so.

You may call me a killer, a murderer, someone worse than him, but I don't see it that way.

When you are confronted with a rabid dog, you don't pet it, comfort it or try to cure it. No sir. You put a gun between its eyes and you put a bullet in its head.

In my mind, Archie was a rabid dog, a predator who needed to be taken out permanently. I did that, and as far as I'm concerned my conscience is clear.
\