Age Difference
Keywords: Age, Difference,
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The dress she was wearing came down about two inches above her knees. She had on high heels but they were only a couples of inches high. I guess you would say she was a sexy older woman who looked good for her age.
While Clinton was in the laundry room the phone rang. Kelly looked at it with contempt, the ringing jarring his senses. Reluctantly he answered, tempted to smash it into tiny pieces, "What?"
"Nice way to answer the phone."
"Who is this?"
"Muwesi, I'm calling for Clinton."
"She's busy." Kelly said rolling his eyes. He had no idea why he despised this woman so much but he hated her almost on instinct alone. He thought she was cocky and condescending.
"Well, I need to talk to her, it's important. She's not picking up her cell phone."
"That's because she's busy. What don't you understand? Leave her a message on her cell." He hung up.
Several minutes later the phone rang again. He cursed under his breath as he answered it, "What?"
"I don't want to stoop to your level by being disrespectful, especially since you just lost the big game but I need to talk to Clinton now. She's made a sale on a piece but she needs to fax over the release right away..."
He narrowed his eyes, this bitch had a lot of nerve. "Aight fax it over. I'll handle it."
"What is your problem? What could she be so busy doing?"
"Being my wife."
"Well she's my friend and my artist. I represent her, the same way your agent represents you. Does Clinton hold your calls back from your agent?"
"My agent doesn't call my house, disrespecting it. But you know what? I can see you're not going to give this shit up today and I'm not in the mood for your bullshit."
"Ditto."
Kelly got up and hobbled to the laundry room with the phone. He had to have a talk with her about this girl. There was something he didn't like about her.
As he entered the laundry room, he was about to speak but he saw Clinton pull off the rugby shirt she had on and throw it in the washer. She was somewhat facing him and the reddish brownish marks on her body caught him off guard. Though they'd been there for almost a week and were fading, they were still pronounced. She shimmied out of her jeans and threw those in too. All the while he saw the marks all over her stomach, hips and upper thighs. He stood there wordless, so many thoughts going through his head. "Maybe it's a rash...maybe they are not what I think they are." He thought, trying to rationalize this feeling growing inside of him away. He backed out of the room and leaned against the wall near the door, shutting off the phone. He dropped it onto the carpet and it made a soft thud.
He slid down the wall holding his head in one hand, remembering how she wouldn't let him touch her this week after months of having no sex at all. She wasn't usually like that, even when he was mean to her. She almost always wanted it, and would comply even when she didn't. Before that she was the one begging him for it, but he was always too 'tired'. Could the reason behind his tiredness be the same reason she didn't feel too well? Had someone already satisfied her that night? He thought about the baggy clothes she wore to bed, the reluctant way she made love to him last night in total darkness.
"How could she?" He knew he wasn't exactly husband of the year, but he had never expected her to be unfaithful. What was worse is they did more than just fuck her, those love bites all over her body meant that there was passion and deep feelings involved. And she let it happen. She must've wanted them there just as badly...
Clinton had pulled on a pair of shorts that were a little too big and a hooded sweatshirt. She continued to put dirty clothes in the laundry but something had caught her eye. She'd found Trisha's 'gift', furled up tightly unto itself among the other clothes. When she straightened them out and held them up she knew they couldn't be hers. The crotch was stained, crusted with dry girl cum. She had been trying to control her fits of nausea all day but she almost lost it right then and there.
Anger welled up within her. As she turned to the door on instinct, Kelly stood right there, watching her.
"What are these?" She held them up.
He had been planning to speak, but now was dumbfounded, "Your panties."
"No. Not mine." Clinton said through clenched teeth. "These are two sizes smaller than what I wear," she said noticing the "XXS (extra extra small)" size earlier.
He shook his head, "I don't know then..." And he really didn't. He hadn't witnessed Trisha or any other woman taking them off.
She shook her head. Moo was right. He was fucking around on her for sure, and in her house no less. She believed that he threw the underwear in with the dirty clothes himself, not realizing his mistake.
"So this is how it is?" She said nodding, "Oh I see...you fucking girls in my own house!"
He was completely on the defensive now, temporarily forgetting about the evidence against her. "No what are you talking about? I don't know who those belong to I told you."
"Look at these!" She marched over to him, thrusting them in his face. They smelled like sex. "I have to find this in my house?" She cried. "I know you hate me Kelly, I mean I don't know why, but I didn't know you hated me "this much"." She sniffed, wiping her face with her sleeve like a little girl, "How many have there been? One of them has to be really fucking special to bring them here?"
"I never brought anyone here." "Oh really? So where do you usually take them? A hotel?"
"Clinton be serious..." He said shaking his head.
"Well you're not exactly denying your infidelity Kelly...you cheat on me don't you?"
He slowly bowed his head, an obvious admission of guilt. She cursed loudly before she asked, "How many, how often, how long?"
He sighed, "It was a mistake...I mean at first it was..."
She trembled as she listened.
"But it's not like you think. It's not like I go around fucking every groupie I meet."
"Oh yeah?" She half smiled thinking of a theory Moo had relayed to her, "So then it should be easy to track down the owner of these panties. Unless you had a whole bunch of skinny bitches in my house. Who are these? They belong to your other chick don't they? Who is she? Is she the reason why you don't want to touch me? Don't want to kiss me? Don't want to make love to me anymore? Is she why you can't look me in the eye right now?"
He didn't answer, he just stood there with a blank expression on his face.
"I want the truth," She said a tear falling down her face.
"Okay," he said, knowing that there was no way he could lie to her anymore, "They're Trisha's."
He watched her as she fell apart, sobbing as if someone had died. "I knew it...I fucking knew it...I didn't want to admit it..."
"I didn't mean for it to..." He trailed off, not knowing what he was going to say.
"I can't believe you Kelly..." "Well what about you?" He said suddenly remembering his own pain.
She'd calmed down to sniffles by now and looked at him anxiously, "What?"
"Take off your shirt."
"Why? What? No..." She said backing up.
"Take it off now!" His voice boomed inside of the small room.
She slowly took off the sweatshirt seeing the look of shame on her face.
"Pants too." He demanded.
When she was in nothing but her bra and panties he stared at her body, each mark painfully reminding him of her betrayal. She was paisley with someone else's lust, marked like territory by someone else.
"Now who did that to "you"?"
She looked down at herself, wondering when he figured it out.
"I answered you, now you answer me." He said, his voice cracking. "Come on. Spit it out."
She said nothing, just cast her eyes downward in shame.
"Who was he? How'd he look? His dick better than mine?"
She shook her head, "Don't be crass..."
"Pot calling the kettle black..." He laughed at himself, "Was he black? Damn. I guess you had to find out what it was like. You know what they say, once you go black..."
"Shut up!" She said after pulling on her shorts, "You are NOT going there today!"
"You went there with him. So who was he? Huh? No wait, before you answer just tell me why? Why you would do this? Was I on the road too much? Was I not fucking you right? Was I..."
"You don't love me." She nearly whispered.
"Just because I don't kiss your ass and say it everyday..."
"You don't show it either."
"Who is he Clinton? Do I know him?"
"You know this person yes..."
His fists clenched.
"And it's not a him. It's a "her"."
I opened the hood and let the smoke disappear. I looked around and saw that her fan belt was broken and of course the car overheated.
"Is it bad? What am I going to do? I don't live anywhere near here and I don't know this neighborhood."
"I'm Ted, Ted Baxter. I'm a mechanic and I live just down the road a bit. What is your name?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Ellen. What about my car?"
"Well, Ellen, if you called AAA then they will need to take your car someplace to be repaired. You broke a fan belt, it stopped your fan from going around and keeping the water going into your engine cool. So it overheated. You need to get the fan belt replaced and hopefully you don't have any engine damage, but we won't know that till we get a new fan belt on it."
"I don't know where to take it. As I said, I'm not from around here."
"Ellen, I have an idea if you want to do it. I'll call AAA and have them take it to the garage I work at. My boss, Brad, is still there and he can fix it for you."
"What about AAA? I already called them. What can I do while they are repairing it?"
"AAA will take it to our garage and while Brad repairs it, I'll drop you off wherever you were going. When it's repaired you can pick it up. If that's okay with you?"
"Umm... okay, see if your boss can do it."
I called Brad. "Brad, this is Ted. I can use a little favor. This lady is broke down on Main St. And has called AAA. I checked her car and she needs a fan belt. AAA will be here in an hour.
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Keywords: Age, Difference,