I'm Okay, You're Not Okay (a 1970s cuckold story)

I'll continue writing the diary but wanted to try something new -- a cuckold story set in 1975.



"I'm Okay, You're Not Okay (a 1970s cuckold story)" Part 1
by c.w. cobblestone

The transistor radio blasted the new Captain and Tennille so-ng "Love Will Keep Us Together," prompting Nicole to sneer at her husband and wonder what was keeping them together.

It sure as hell wasn't love.

As she relaxed on a lawn chair in her mo-ther's backyard, Nicole watched the loser she was married to frantically waving his hand at the black smoke that billowed from the barbecue grill. The annoyed housewife lifted her sunglasses and glared. "Jeez, Jimmy — can't you even cook sausages right?"

Margaret sniffed. "Is that a rhetorical question? Since when does Numb-Nuts do anything right?"

"S-sorry." Jimmy blinked at his mo-ther-in-law. "I didn't know the flame on your grill went up so high."

Margaret shook her head. "You're pitiful, you know that? I have no earthly idea why my daugh-ter married you, Jimmy. If they gave a Dumbass of the Year Award for 1975, you'd win, hands-down."

"Those brats are ruined." Nicole lit a cigarette and blew smoke toward her husband. "You think you can manage to make the other pack before Mike gets here without fucking those up, too?"

"S-sorry," Jimmy repeated as he tore open the second package of sausages.

"Since you burnt the first batch, you don't eat until Mike's finished," Nicole proclaimed. "There needs to be enough in case he wants seconds or thirds."

"Mike's a big war hero — he needs nourishment." Margaret smirked at Jimmy. "Unlike this little pansy, who got out of Vietnam because ... what excuse did you use again?"

"Um, they wouldn't take me, Margaret; I've got asthma."

"No, what you've got is a severe lack of balls." Nicole scoffed. "If you were worth a fuck, you wouldn't have gotten your wimpy ass fired and we wouldn't be living in Mom's basement."

Jimmy swallowed the insult and concentrated on cooking the second batch of brats. The links were just starting to brown when his focus was shattered by a rattle at the gate and a squeal from his wife.

"OMG, Mike, you look GREAT!" Nicole leapt from her seat and bolted across the backyard toward the muscular giant, who swallowed her up in his embrace. Jimmy gritted his teeth and counted how long the hug lasted. After a full 27 seconds, Nicole and Mike unlocked limbs and bounced toward the table. Mike leaned down and kissed Margaret before sitting on a lawn chair between Nicole and her mom.

"Thanks for inviting me," Mike told the older woman before turning to Nicole. "I was so happy when your ma told me you were back in town." He held out his left hand and wiggled his bare fingers. "I'm sure you heard about Tina and me."

"Ma told me as soon she found out." Nicole chuckled. "I think she was happier about the divorce than your mom was. We all were. Nobody liked that bitch — I never could figure out why you married her in the first place."

"Ugh, neither can I." Mike leaned back in his lawn chair. "I dunno ... I was home on furlough ... you'd moved to Centerville and gotten married ... it just happened. Looking back, I think maybe I needed an anchor to help me make it through the war, and Tina happened to come along at the right time. It helps if you've got something live for when you're out there in that goddamn jungle every day, let me tell you."

"Well, you had something to live for, all right." Margaret stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and grinned. "Harvest Springs' own Silver Star winner. You're a fucking hero, Mike."

Nicole touched Mike's thigh. "She's right. How many people did you save over there again?"

Mike shrugged. "Um, 12 soldiers, plus a couple kids. Sh-it, man, I don't want to be rude, but I'd prefer not to talk about all that if you guys don't mind. I don't want to talk about Tina, either. I gave up a year of my life to Vietnam, and four years of my life with that bitch. The divorce was finalized last month, and now I'm ready to just move on. A fresh start. You know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Nicole said. "We're starting out fresh, too, after Dumbass here lost his job. He's looking for work now; we're living here with Ma for the time being."

"I know, she told me." Mike nodded at Jimmy. "Hey, man, nice to meet you."

Nicole giggled. "Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce you. Jimmy, this is Mike, my ... um, an old friend."

"Um, hey, man, whassup?" Jimmy mumbled as he shifted from foot to foot.

Margaret pointed. "Goddamn it, Jimmy, you're burning those, too!"

Jimmy gasped when he saw the smoke rolling from the grill. He lifted the top and groaned — the sausages were burnt to a crisp.

Nicole threw up her hands. "You gotta be fucking kidding me! What the hell, Jimmy, are you fucking retarded or something?"

"He's a born loser," Margaret said.

Mike chuckled and pulled out his wallet, removing a $20 bill and offering it to the smaller man. "Here, man, why don't you run to the A&P and pick up four steaks? I'll cook 'em when you get back. And stop at the party store and grab a bottle of burgundy while you're at it, okay?"

Nicole beamed. "Ooh, burgundy, you remembered."

"How could I forget?" Mike winked.

Jimmy bit his lip. "Um, does anybody want anything while I'm at the store?"

"Yeah, get four steaks and a bottle of burgundy like Mike said, stupid-ass." Nicole flicked her cigarette butt toward her husband and it landed near his foot. "And hurry up — thanks to you, we won't even be eating until after 3, and I'm starving. Get going."

As Jimmy trudged from the backyard toward his Gremlin, he heard Mike snicker and whisper something to Nicole that made her laugh, although he couldn't make out what was said. The downtrodden husband hurried to his car and hauled ass, not wanting to leave Nicole and her "old friend" without supervision any longer than necessary. He realized his mistake when he saw the flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. A motorcycle cop gave him a speeding ticket, a process that took more than a half-hour.

When Jimmy finally got back home with the steaks and wine, he was greeted by frowns all around.

Nicole folded her arms. "Where the hell were you?"

"Um ... I, uh, got a speeding ticket."

"You what?" Nicole rolled her eyes. "Jeez, Jimmy, how much is that gonna cost us?"

"Um, it's $15."

"Well, that's coming out of your allowance."

Mike snorted. "He gets an allowance?"

"I told you: I need to take care of everything or he'd fuck it all up, because he doesn't have a brain — and he doesn't have a spine, either."

Jimmy stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Aw, come on, honey, why you gotta talk like that?"

"Talk like what?" Nicole's eyes flashed. "You ARE spinless." She turned to Mike. "He lost his job in Centerville because he was too scared to tell the manager that a coworker was stealing ... when the boss found a bunch of sh-it missing, he thought they were both in on it, so they both got fired. He gets unemployment now, but even after he finds a job I'll be handling the money from now on — if there's even gonna be a from-now-on."

Jimmy felt a wave of panic at the barely-hidden threat of a divorce, a concept his wife had been throwing out more frequently since he'd lost his job. It cut even deeper that she was saying it to her "old friend," a man who outclassed the hapless scarecrow by every discernable measure — looks, muscles, charm, a Silver Star medal and money, judging from the brand-new '75 Corvette that was parked in Margaret's driveway. Like always, though, Jimmy ignored his wife's barb.

Margaret shook a cigarette from the pack and peeked inside. "Ugh, only two left." She sneered at Jimmy. "Make yourself useful for a change — run back to the store and get me two packs of Salem."

Jimmy hung his head and promised to be right back. It took everything he had to avoid flooring his Gremlin so he could return as quickly as possible, but he obeyed the speed limit. This time, though, he got stuck for a half-hour by a slow-moving train. When he finally returned to Marlene's house, his ears reddened when he saw his wife with her shoes off and her bare feet resting on Mike's lap. Their steaks had already been cooked and eaten; Jimmy's plate sat uncovered on the end of the table with flies landing on and off the meat every few seconds. The frazzled hubby took note of the nearly-empty wine bottle.

Marlene smacked her lips when Jimmy set the two packs of smokes on the table in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"There was a train." Nobody replied, so Jimmy sat down and used a napkin to wipe off his cold steak.

Nicole swung her feet from Mike's legs and sat up straight. "Mike says he has a job for you, Jimmy."

"Uh, really?" Jimmy cocked his head. "Um ... doing what?"

"I own the Sitting Bull Bar & Grill out on Front Street, and my porter just quit," Mike said. "You'd be responsible for washing dishes, making sure the tables are wiped down, cleaning up the bar after it closes, and, you know, helping out the barmaids if they need you to carry something or whatever. It pays $2 an hour under-the-table, which is better than minimum wage when you take taxes into account."

Jimmy blinked. "Um ... I ... I dunno ..."

"What don't you know?" Nicole scowled. "It would be more than you're making on unemployment."

"But, honey, I ... I've got a college degree."

"And we're in a fucking recession. You've been looking for a job; has that college degree done you any fucking good?"

Jimmy hung his head.

"Has it?" Nicole's nostrils flared.

"N-no." Jimmy cleared his throat. "No, it hasn't."

"So, then, we're done talking about this." Nicole smiled. "Mike's your new boss. Now, thank him for giving you a job."

"Um ... t-thanks?"

Mike shrugged. "No problem. You start tomorrow."

Marlene smirked. "Little Jimmy isn't too proud to clean; he does it around here, too. And he cleans the kitchen ... the windows ... toilets ... he's a great little cleaner."

"Hey, he ain't paying rent, so he's go to earn his keep somehow," Nicole said.

Mike grinned at Marlene. "You're such a goddamn clean-freak, I'm sure you're running the poor guy ragged. I remember how much you used to complain when I'd leave the seat up when I stayed over at your guys' house. What's it like having a guy living with you again; does Jimmy leave the seat up?"

Nicole waved her hand. "Oh, Jimmy sits down to pee."

Mike hooted. "He what?"

"I made him start doing that right after we got married." Nicole sipped her wine. "Tell him why, Jimmy."

Jimmy held out his hands. "Aw, come on, honey, what are you doing? Please don't do this."

"Oh, shut up, Mike's an old friend." Nicole leaned forward as if she was about to spill a secret. "Jimmy has such a little thingy, when he pees it gets all over his balls and splashes everywhere. So, I make him sit down."

Mike slapped his head. "Jeezus, man, that's 15 different ways of fucked-up." He smirked at Jimmy. "I feel for ya, pee-wee."

"Come on, man, what the fuck!" Jimmy jumped to his feet and waved his hands. "You guys are dru-nk. That's not right."

"Sit down, Nancy Boy," Margaret slurred.

Mike suppressed a smile. "I was just kidding man. We cool?"

"Um, yeah, alright." Jimmy retook his seat and played with his napkin.

Nicole rubbed her chin. "You know, I was thinking: since the bar job's under the table, we can keep on getting the unemployment until it runs out, too."

"Um ... are you sure?" Jimmy wrung his hands. "If we got caught—"

"Oh, stop being such a wuss; you're not gonna get caught." Nicole picked up the empty wine bottle and looked at Mike. "You up for more?"

"Sure." Mike waved toward Jimmy. "Since I'm your new boss, we'll make that your first job: Run to the store and get another bottle of burgundy."

Jimmy knew better than to argue.

"I'm Okay, You're Not Okay (a 1970s cuckold story)" Part 2
by c.w. cobblestone


Two minutes into the new "All In the Family" episode, President Gerald Ford preempted the Saturday night broadcast with a speech about his plan to fight inflation.

Margaret groaned. "Ugh, I don't want to watch this horsesh-it."

"Me neither — I hate that bald-headed asshole." Nicole snapped her fingers at her husband. "See what else is on."

Jimmy clambered from his spot on the floor and flipped the TV to Channel 5, which also carried the President's address. Ditto for Channel 2, while Channel 9 aired "Jacques Cousteau." Jimmy tried the UHF options; Channel 44 was halfway through a rerun of "The Untouchables," while an Oral Roberts sermon played on Channel 32.

"Just leave on 'The Untouchables,' I guess," Marlene said. Jimmy turned the channel back to 44 but the picture wouldn't stop rolling. Marlene told her s o n-in-law to go to the kitchen to get a fork to wedge onto the antenna but that didn't help. Jimmy touched the antenna and the picture stabilized.

"Ooh, right there," Marlene said. "Don't move."

Jimmy held the antenna for a few minutes before letting go. The picture rolled again.

Nicole smacked her lips. "Damn it, Jimmy hold it."

"You ... you want me to stand here for the whole show?"

"Just hold the damn thing and shut up."

Jimmy felt like an oaf standing next to the TV holding the antenna, but as usual, he obeyed his wife and mo-ther-in-law with no backtalk. He eventually forgot about his plight and got lost in the storyline about Elliot Ness and his team of *****-busters, although after a few minutes Jimmy's arm started to ache. During a commercial break, he took a chance and let go of the antenna to rub his sore shoulder, hoping he wouldn't get yelled at. Nobody said anything and he made sure to regrip the metal rod before the show came back on. When the episode was over, the ladies had Jimmy flip to "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" on Channel 2. Since the picture came in okay, he was able to retake his seat on the carpet beside his wife's easy chair. "Bob Newhart" followed MTM, and when the sitcom ended, Marlene announced she was headed to bed.

"Ugh, I drank too much wine at the barbecue earlier — I'm still sloshy." The older woman rose from the couch and squinted at Jimmy. "Make sure that kitchen is clean, hear me? I don't want to wake up and see a sink full of dishes."

"Um okay, I'll get it done tonight for sure."

Marlene didn't answer as she kissed her dau-ghter goodnight and shuffled toward her bedroom.

Once his mo-ther-in-law was out of earshot, Jimmy licked his lips. "Um, Nikki ... uh, can we talk?"

"About what?"

"Uh ... well ... earlier tonight."

Nicole scrunched up her face. "Earlier tonight what?"

"Did ... well, did you have to tell my pers o nal business to that Mike guy? About ... you know ... about how small I am?"

"That 'Mike guy' is an old friend of mine, and I was kidding around with him. Lighten up, it was a goddamn joke." Nicole scowled. "Don't start with me tonight, Jimmy."

"I ... I don't want to argue, honey, I really don't—"

"Then quit while you're ahead."

Jimmy held out his hands. "But honey — that really wasn't cool telling him my pers o nal business like that. It's embarrassing. And now, I ... I've got to work for the guy? Everyone I work with is gonna know how ... how small I am?"

"Oh, jeez." Nicole rolled her eyes. "I doubt Mike's gonna remember anything that was said tonight; we were all pretty dru-nk. And besides, he's not gonna say anything at the damn bar, anyway. Why would he? You think he's gonna go around telling all his employees that the new porter has a little dick?"

Jimmy winced but didn't reply.

Nicole's lips tightened. "Mom says Mike runs a tight ship down there and wants things done just so. You'd better not embarrass me, Jimmy."

"Um, well, see ... uh, that's the other thing I was wanting to talk about. I ... I don't know ... you know, about this job, honey. Um ... I mean ... washing dishes? Cleaning bathrooms? I just—"

"Oh, so you're too good to wash dishes and clean bathrooms?"

"Well, no, I'm not saying that, but—"

"But nothing. You've been looking for work for two months. There's a recession going on, dumbass, in case you didn't notice, and jobs are hard to come by. You might as well wipe your ass with your Mickey Mouse college degree for all the good it's done you. Besides, you already accepted the job, and Mike's counting on you to start tomorrow — there's no way you're backing out now. He's a good friend of mine and I won't do that to him."

Jimmy drew a breath. "Um ... so, how do you know him again?"

Nicole chuckled. "Are you asking if I fucked him?"

Jimmy lowered his gaze. "No."

"Bullsh-it, that's exactly what you're asking. Okay, then, let's get it out in the open. Yeah, Jimmy — Mike was my boyfriend in high school. He was my first, and we were together until he got drafted. He told me he didn't want me waiting for him, so after he went to Vietnam I tried to move on. I took that receptionist's job in Centerville and met you. The rest is history — unfortunately."

"What do you mean 'unfortunately?' Is our marriage really that bad?"

Nicole scoffed. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Why? Because I lost my job?"

"No — because you're spineless. You got no balls, Jimmy. You wouldn't have been fired if you weren't so scared of that idiot. I told you to tell your boss he was stealing. Did you listen to me? No. Why? Because you're spineless."

"But—"

"No balls."

"But, honey—"

"Noooooo ballllllls." Nicole sniffed. "You got no balls, Jimmy."

"You won't listen to me — Joe's a fucking gangster. His cousin's in the Mafia."

"Oh, bullsh-it. You're scared of your own shadow and you always have been. Now, we're done. I don't want to talk about this anymore. You start at the bar tomorrow, and maybe after a while we can save up enough money to get our own place — because I'm not living in Mom's basement forever, Jimmy. With or without you, I'm moving out ... and soon."

"Why do you always say stuff like that, honey? I'm trying the best I can."

"Well, then do whatever Mike says and don't fuck up this job."

"Okay, I won't." Jimmy played with his sleeve. "Um ... he acts like he still wants you, Nikki."

"Maybe he does. Maybe I want him."

Jimmy winced. "Come on, honey. Why you gotta talk like that?"

"Talk like what? You mean telling the truth?"

Jimmy balled his fists. "So, you're saying you want him?"

Nicole snorted. "Well, gee, what do you think, genius? Did you get a look at him? What woman WOULDN'T want him? He's a fucking beefcake."

"Come on, Nikki—"

"Come on what? Don't ask a question if you don't like the answer."

Jimmy huffed. "I hate it when you get like this. I'm going to bed."

"Not before you do those dishes you're not."

Cursing under his breath, Jimmy plodded to the kitchen and started cleaning. By the time he finished, Nicole had gone to the basement. Jimmy trudged downstairs, lay on the mattress next to his slu-mbering wife and touched her leg. She brushed his hand away. Rolling over, he worried himself to sle-ep.

During Sunday breakfast, much to Jimmy's chagrin, Mike was a popular topic.

"Tina tried to take the bar in the divorce, but Dottie was smart and kept the business in her name," Marlene said. "She told me right before the wedding that she would never officially sign it over to him as long as he stayed married to her."

"That WAS smart; I don't blame her for not trusting that conniving little bitch." Nicole sipped her coffee. "Is the bar in his name now?"

"Yeah, she signed it over as soon as the divorce was final." Marlene took a bite of eggs and spit it out. "Ggggg, what the fuck! There's shells in this, Jimmy."

"Um ... sorry. Y-you want me to make more?"

"Well, what do you think, Numb-Nuts?" She shoved her plate away. "Am I supposed to eat eggshells?"

"S-sorry."

"You really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"

"S-sorry," Jimmy repeated a third time. He ducked into the kitchen and recooked his mo-ther-in-law's eggs the way she liked them, scrambled with cheese. As he worked at the stove, he gritted his teeth and listened to the ladies gush about Mike.

"Dottie says he's really worked wonders with the bar," Marlene said. "She tried to run it after Big Mike died, but she doesn't really have a head for business. Mike took over when he got out of the Army and they've already expanded twice."

"Wow, really?" Nicole nibbled a slice of bacon. "That's funny because he was always so terrible in school."

"Yeah, you did all his homework for him or he'd have never graduated." Marlene picked up her cup and frowned. "Hey, I could use a refill in here," she called into the kitchen.

Jimmy turned down the flame on the stove and rushed into the dining room with the coffee pot. After topping off both ladies' cups, he returned to the kitchen, where Marlene's eggs were about done. He pulled a clean plate from the cupboard and set the fresh serving on the table in front of his mo-ther-in-law.

Marlene picked up her fork. "Are there gonna be a bunch of shells again?"

"Um ... no, I don't think so."

"Well, praise be, that's one giant step for humanity." Marlene smirked. "So ... you ready for your first big day at the Sitting Bull?"

"Um, yeah."

"What time you start?"

"Mike says he needs to get there at 6," Nicole answered for her husband. "It'll be 6 to 3am, seven days a week."

Jimmy's jaw dropped. "S-seven days a week? I didn't ... nobody told me that. I ... I don't get a day off?"

"What do you need a day off for?" Nicole dipped her forefinger in her orange juice and sucked it clean. "You got something better to do?"

"Well, no, but ... I mean, I'd like one day to rest."

"Oh, quit your whining already." Nicole scoffed. "It's not like you're working in a goddamn coal mine. You'll be cleaning toilets and wiping down tables, for chrissakes. It's not gonna ki-ll ya."

"But—"

"But nothing, Jimmy. You need to decide if you want to earn money for this family so we can move out of here and get our own place — or if you want, I can start making other arrangements." Nicole eyeballed her wimp of a husband and thrust the dagger: "I'll get the Yellow Pages right now and find a divorce lawyer."

Tears filled Jimmy's eyes. "No, Nikki, please ... no, seven days isn't such a big deal. I really do want to earn money for ... for this family. I understand you want us to get a place of our own, and I'll work hard to do that, I promise." He turned to his mo-ther-in-law. "I'll get us out of your hair, okay?"

Margaret grunted. "Promises, promises."

Nicole lit a Virginia Slim and blew smoke through her nose. "So, you figure at $2 an hour under-the-table, at nine hours a day, seven days a week, that comes to more than $100 a week. Between that and the unemployment, we should be able to get our own place pretty soon."

Marlene, chuckled. "Well, YOU can stay as long as you want to, baby. I don't know about Sh-it-Head, though. You get on my damn nerves, you know that, Jimmy?"

The henpecked hubby gulped. "Um, I'm sorry, Marlene, I don't mean to. I really do appreciate you letting us stay here, and I don't want to be a burden."

"Well, you DO have SOME uses." Marlene jerked her thumb toward the back door. "Since you don't start till 6, that should give you plenty of time to get that garage cleaned out today, huh?"

"Uh, sure, I was gonna get to that a little later," Jimmy said.

"No, you'll get to it now." Nicole held out her cup. "Here, fill that up again first."

It took several hours to clean Marlene's garage although Jimmy was grateful for the distraction. He dreaded starting his first shift at the Sitting Bull Bar & Grill, where he knew he'd be low man on the totem pole at an establishment owned by his wife's rich, handsome, muscular ex — the man who'd taken her virginity and clearly wanted another round, something Nicole seemed interested in pursuing as well.

As it got closer to 6pm, Jimmy's asthma flared up as it often did when he was stressed, and he had a difficult time catching his breath. A feeling of impending doom washed over the poor milksop, although as the Witching Hour approached, he jutted out his sunken chin, squared his bony shoulders and vowed to push through his fears for the sake of his wobbly marriage.

"Do it for Nikki," he whispered to himself in the mirror as he combed his hair. "Don't fuck this up."

"I'm Okay, You're Not Okay (A 1970's Cuckold Story)," Part 3
by c.w. cobblestone

The Sitting Bull Bar & Grill was a sprawling facility on Front Street near Pine, the busiest intersection in Harvest Springs, although Sunday traffic was relatively light and there were only two cars in the tavern lot when Jimmy chugged up in his Gremlin.

After checking himself in the rearview mirror and popping a zit on his chin, Jimmy slipped out of his hatchback and pressed toward the bar to start a job he didn't want. He pulled open the heavy door and faltered inside. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed a pretty blonde in a tube-top and hotpants counting change near the cash register.

Jimmy buried his hands in his hip pockets and approached the woman. "Um, excuse me. I'm supposed to start at six. I'm a little early."

"Oh, are you the new porter?" The woman sighed. "Finally."

"Is, uh, Mike here?"

"No, he doesn't usually come in on Sundays. I'll show you what you need — I'm Lisa, the assistant manager."

"Oh, hi. Jimmy Dombrowski."

"Okay, there's a ton to do, so you should probably go ahead and get started." Lisa pointed toward a door at the rear of the bar. "There's stacks of beer back there that need to go to the basement first thing. You'll see where the different brands go; stack them up neat and don't just throw 'em up there or the cases will fall over and the bottles will all break — and that comes out of your pay."

Jimmy nodded. "Got it."

"That basement needs to be swept up while you're down there. Oh, and then I'm gonna need you to clean both bathrooms and the kitchen. Get 'em good; they haven't had a real deep cleaning since Carlos quit. You'll be cleaning them when you first start your shift every day, and then again after we close."

"Will do, I'll get started on those stacks of beer now," Jimmy said. "Nice to meet you."

"Ugh, you too," Lisa murmured as she strutted away. Slack-jawed, Jimmy stared at his assistant manager's ass-cheeks, which spilled out of her hotpants and twitched with each cocky step she took.

Once Lisa was gone, Jimmy hopped into action. Although he wasn't happy about working as a bar porter, he was desperate to please Nicole, so he threw himself into his tasks. He was lugging a case of Blatz to the basement when a tall woman with curly brown hair stuck her head through the doorway. Jimmy smiled and sang a cheery, "Hey, what's up?"

"Put that down and get out there." The woman gestured toward the front. "Some dru nk just puked and you need to clean it up, like, yesterday."

Jimmy set down the case of beer. "Where do you keep the cleaning supplies?"

"In the storeroom behind the cooler."

Jimmy stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm Jimmy Dombrowski, by the way."

The woman ignored his handshake offer and again pointed toward the front. "I'm DeeDee and you need to get that puke cleaned up or customers will start leaving. Get out there — now!"

"I'm on it!" Jimmy said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster as he scooted toward the storeroom. The vomit was washed up and the area disinfected posthaste, and then Jimmy continued carrying stacks of beer cases to the cellar. As he worked, more customers trickled into the bar, and Lisa told him that in addition to his other duties, he needed to swing by their tables every now and then to wipe up spills and remove empty glasses, discarded napkins and swizzle sticks.

After the beer cases were stacked, Jimmy worked his way through the bar on busboy duty. As he reached for a balled-up napkin on a table near the jukebox he knocked over a beer bottle, spilling the contents in the customer's lap. The portly, redheaded man in the booth jumped to his feet and bellowed, "What the fuck!"

"Oh, s-sorry, sir. I didn't see that bottle." Jimmy shrugged. "It's dark in here and the bottle is brown, and I just didn't see it. Uh, I was just kind of reaching for that napkin, and I—"

"Get the man a towel!" DeeDee yelled from behind the bar. "Don't just stand there flapping your damn jaws."

Jimmy scrambled to retrieve a cloth and passed it to the frowning customer. "Fucking putz," the crimso n-faced, chubby man muttered as he snatched the towel and wiped off his pantleg.

DeeDee approached with a fresh bottle of beer in one hand and a double-shot of whiskey in the other. "Here you go, Red, I'm so sorry about that. He's the new guy."

"Well, the new guy is a fucking dickhead is what he is," Red slurred. "A scrawny, ugly little dickhead."

"Aw, come on, now, there's no need for all that crap," Jimmy said.

DeeDee scowled. "You need to start cleaning those bathrooms and keep quiet, you hear? Go!" She turned to Red. "I'm so sorry about that."

With his chin on his chest, Jimmy slinked away as DeeDee continued apologizing to the customer.

Lisa followed the chastised porter into the ladies room. "What the fuck, man?" she hissed. "Are you fucking crazy?"

"What? It was an accident and I said I was sorry. The guy didn't need to start calling me names like that. He went way overboard."

"That's Red Corrigan, you stupid fuck! He owns the rocking chair factory in Millville, and Mike's been trying to get him to invest in a chain of Sitting Bulls. The last thing you want to do is piss that guy off."

"I-I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"Well, you'd better hope you didn't fuck things up, that's all I can say. I wouldn't be surprised if Mike lets you go after this."

"It was an accident," Jimmy croaked again.

Lisa stormed out of the bathroom without replying and Jimmy got back to cleaning. The turn of events had completely snuf fed out his earlier enthusiasm, and he had to for-ce himself to breathe in steady increments, lest his asthma flare up. When he was finished in the ladies room, Jimmy carried the bucket and cleaning supplies to the men's facility. He was scrubbing one of the bathroom's three toilets when Red Corrigan staggered through the doorway unzipping his fly. The dru nken customer rushed toward the row of urinals before spotting Jimmy and stopping in his tracks.

"You!" Red's face contorted. "The skinny little smartass. I hate skinny little smartasses, you know that?"

"Sir, let me say how sorry I am. It was a complete accident — I'm clumsy." Jimmy faked a smile. "Totally my fault. Um, can I buy you a beer to apologize?"

Red stumbled forward, wiggled his dick and aimed it at the tiles to the right of the urinal. "Here's what I think of your apology," he jeered as he started pissing on the wall, causing a yellow puddle to form on the floor by his shoes.

When he finished, the in toxicated rocking chair mogul belched and strode out of the bathroom chuckling to himself. Fuming, Jimmy sopped up the important customer's piss with a rag. When he was finished cleaning the men's room, the harried porter peeked out the door and sighed when he saw that the rude slob had left the premises.

The rest of Jimmy's inaugural shift at the Sitting Bull was relatively uneventful, although DeeDee and Lisa, who hadn't been overly friendly to begin with, treated him with open disdain after his major fuck-up with the bigshot. Even before the spilled beer incident, though, Jimmy had quickly figured out that his official job title should've been "bar flunky" instead of "porter." DeeDee, the manager, was ruder than Lisa, but both women clearly regarded Jimmy as an insignificant underling, ordering him to and fro without so much as a please or thank-you.

When quitting time finally came, the bar was cleaner than it had been in weeks. Jimmy was exhausted as he and Lisa waited for DeeDee to lock up. The women hugged in the parking lot, slipped into their respective cars and pulled away without saying a word to the new peon.

Jimmy's bottom lip drooped as he drove to his temporary home in his mo ther-in-law's basement. He was crestfallen that his first day on the job had been a disaster, but his despondence spiraled into full-blown panic when he turned onto Marlene's street and saw her house with the lights still on at 3:30 in the morning — and Mike's Corvette parked in the driveway.

Nicole, Marlene and Mike were all waiting in the living room. The onslaught began the second Jimmy ventured through the door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?" Nicole screamed. "You sorry, loser so nofabitch."

Mike jumped to his feet and towered over the wimp with his fists balled. "DeeDee called and said you pissed off Red Corrigan! Do you know who that is, you stupid little prick? He's this close to investing in five Sitting Bulls in Illinois and Missouri — and you may have fucked the whole thing up."

"I didn't do nothing," Jimmy whined. "I spilled beer; it was an accident. I didn't say nothing to him — he was dru nk and started calling me names."

"And then DeeDee said you were a smartass." Mike's jaw tightened.

"No, no, I swear, he called me a dickhead, and I just told him there was no call for that. I wasn't a smartass at all."

"Well, Red thought you were a smartass, so that means you were a smartass." Mike shook his head. "I can't fucking believe you. I'm gonna have to talk to him now; I may need to hire another porter. I don't want to fire your sorry ass because that would put Nikki in a bind, and I really need someone to fill that slot — but if Red wants you gone, you're gone."

Nicole stormed across the room and slapped her husband's face. "It only took you one day to fuck this up, didn't it?" She smacked him a second time. "You loser so nofabitch."

Jimmy rubbed his cheek and sobbed. "Ow, I'm sorry, it was an accident — I didn't do nothing."

Marlene sniffed. "It's never your fault, is it, Numb-Nuts? You never do anything wrong — other than fuck up everything you do. You got the reverse Midas Touch, Jimmy; everything you touch turns to SH-IT."

"I'm sorry," Jimmy sobbed. "Please, I'm sorry."

"Well, all I can say is, you better hope you don't lose this job." Nicole jabbed her finger in Jimmy's face. "You hear me?"

"Y-yeah. I'm really, really sorry, honey."

"Whatever." Nicole turned to Mike. "You ready?"

"Hell, yeah, let's split."

Nicole grabbed her purse and followed her ex toward the front door.

Jimmy gulped. "Uh, where you guys headed?"

"Breakfast," Nicole said over her shoulder before breezing out of the house, leaving Jimmy standing there with his mouth open.

Marlene sneered. "What do you think, Numb-Nuts? Don't they make a great couple?" Without waiting for an answer, she hobbled toward her bedroom chortling.

Jimmy clutched his chest and wheezed. After falling on the couch, he closed his eyes and tried to conjure calming images of clouds and meadows but in his mind's eye all he could see was his wife's sneer and the back of her head as she left to spend time alone with her ex-boyfriend.

Chapter 4

The Elvis clock in Marlene's basement was broken so Jimmy had no idea what time it was. Not that he cared. Nicole was "having breakfast" with her macho ex-boyfriend and nothing else mattered.

Breakfast? Jimmy scoffed. He was certain they hadn't gone to any restaurant — probably a motel, he thought with a snarl; or maybe Mike's place, which Jimmy figured was probably some fancy swinging bachelor's pad.

The scrawny milksop closed his eyes and pictured Mike fucking Nicole on a heart-shaped waterbed beneath a ceiling-mirror, with the room bathed in a blacklight's purple haze and the cloying scent of sandalwood. As he slipped his hand into the front of his tightie-whities and squeezed little jimmy, Jimmy imagined his wife's feet on the muscular combat veteran's shoulders, her moans mixing with Marvin Gaye's seductive baritone that oozed from the top-of-the-line quad hi-fi system: Let's get it on / Ah, baby / Let's—

"GET UP HERE, JIMMY!"

Marlene's screech broke up Jimmy's pity-party that had morphed into a morose sexual fantasy. He rolled out of bed with a three-inch boner, yanked up his pants and trooped upstairs.

"I'm almost out of smokes," Marlene barked as soon as Jimmy entered the living room. "We need milk, too."

"Okay, uh, I'll head out in a minute; can I have money?"

Marlene smirked. "If you were any kind of man, you'd have your own money. My dau-ghter wouldn't have to put you on an allowance like a goddamn nine-year-old."

Jimmy huffed. "Why are you always ragging on me, Marlene? What the fuck. I'm doing the best I can."

"Well, your best ain't doing the trick, is it? I've had it with you, Jimmy. You're worthless. My dau-ghter's too good for your skinny little ass."

"Yeah, I know, you told me that before the wedding — and you never stopped."

"Because it's true." Marlene lit a cigarette and blew smoke at her so n-in-law. "You're a loser, Jimmy. I could smell it on you from the start. Nikki finally sees it, too." She chuckled. "I'd be worried about Mike if I was you. He's always been sweet on her."

"Well, it's obvious who you like better."

"No sh-it, Sherlock. I think it's obvious who Nikki likes better, too. I'll let you in on a little secret, Numb-Nuts: She never stopped loving Mike — she married your sorry ass on the rebound because you were making good money at the time. And now that you're not working, you're useless."

Tears formed in Jimmy's eyes. "W-why do you hate me so much, Marlene? What the fuck. What did I ever do to you?"

"I don't hate you, Jimmy — I think you're pathetic, and I don't want my dau-ghter being married to you. You may have had her fooled with that big job in Centerville but not me. Sure enough, you got fired because you're nothing but a pussy — and here we are. A loser living in my goddamn basement. You're dragging her down, Numb-Nuts. You'll never be able to give her what she needs, and I'm not just talking about that little pecker of yours that she's always complaining about. Why don't you just leave and be done with it, for chrissakes? She's gonna end up divorcing your loser ass anyway."

Jimmy covered his face with both hands to stifle his sobs. He got no sympathy from his mo-ther-in-law, who smelled blo od.

"Look at the waterworks, like a little fucking sissy." She sneered. "Pathetic. You don't have a clue how to be a man, do you? No fucking clue."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Jimmy bleated. "I'm trying. I've been trying. What else can I do?"

"You can start by going to the store and getting my damn cigarettes and a gallon of milk like I told you."

After several seconds of silence, other than the wheezes from Jimmy's labored breathing, he nodded. "Okay. Uh, can I have some money, please?"

Marlene shook her head and handed her so n-in-law a five-dollar bill.

"I'm trying the best I can," Jimmy repeated as he slogged from the room.

The party store was almost a mile away but Jimmy decided to walk, hoping the fresh air might clear his head and perhaps cheer him up a bit. It didn't work. His dour mood worsened when he got back and saw Mike's cocksure muscle-car in Marlene's driveway next to his dinky hatchback — an obvious bit of symbolism, Jimmy thought with a grimace.

Steeling himself, he skulked into the house. Nicole and Mike relaxed on the couch, too close for Jimmy's liking, while Marlene occupied the easy chair, leaving no place for the nervous hubby to sit. He handed Marlene her cigarettes and headed toward the kitchen with his head down.

Nicole frowned. "Where you going?"

"To put the milk in the fridge. Then downstairs."

"No, you're not. Put the milk up and get back in here."

After stowing the milk, Jimmy edged toward his scowling wife and her smirky ex-boyfriend. Clearing his throat, the milquetoast ventured the question that had been burning in his gut for hours: "W-where were you, Nicole? It's after three. That's a long time for breakfast."

"Never mind about me. Mike needs to talk to you."

"We met with Red, that's where we were." Mike pushed back his hair. "You can keep your job. He says you didn't do anything wrong — he was just fucking with you. DeeDee said he was dru-nker than a skunk, and he can get pretty stupid when he sets his sights on someone like that. Red's a strange dude. The real rich guys always seem a bit off."

"He did seem weird," Nicole said, brushing knees with her ex in a way that made the hair stand up on the back of Jimmy's neck.

Mike nodded at his employee. "Just don't do anything to piss him off from now on. That crazy so nofabitch is real excited about making the Sitting Bull into a franchise, and he's got money to burn. I don't want to fuck that up — so, if Red Corrigan tells you to sh-it, goddamn it, you squat and ask what color. Are you hearing me?"

Jimmy gritted his teeth. "Yeah, yeah, I fucking hear you."

"You better check yourself." Nicole lit a Virginia Slim. "I don't like your goddamn attitude."

"What?" Jimmy held out his hands. "The guy's psycho — he pissed all over the bathroom wall while I was in there cleaning. He did it on purpose, to make me have to wipe it up."

Mike and Nicole looked at each other for a split-second before falling into fits of laughter. Marlene joined in the merriment while Jimmy stood there fuming.

After catching his breath, Mike sneered. "Well, Pee-Wee, all I can tell you is, the next time Red pisses on the wall, make sure you hand him a towel to wipe his hands with. You kiss that man's ass, you hear me?"

"Yeah, okay."

"I'm gonna call DeeDee and tell her to keep an extra-close eye on you, to make sure you don't fuck things up."

Jimmy mumbled, "Uh, I'll be cool; you don't need to do that."

"Sure, I do, Pee-Wee. I don't want any problems, and DeeDee's my right hand over there. So, until you hear otherwise, consider yourself on probation — and consider DeeDee the perso n who's gonna decide if you pass or not. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Nicole's lip curled. "Now, apologize to Mike for being an asshole."

"Why? What did I even do, Nikki?"

"Apologize, goddamn it."

"Alright. I-I'm sorry."

"No problem, Pee-Wee." Mike stood up, stretching his 6'5 frame. "Well, I gotta split. It's Monday, so we'll be getting a shipment at four. You'll want to get there early today to take the cases to the basement. It needs to be done before the factory rush."

Jimmy blinked. "F-factory rush?"

"Yeah, it gets crazy when the furniture factory lets out over in Millville. You only worked a Sunday shift; that's our slow night." Mike chuckled. "You might want to wear your comfortable shoes. Ol' DeeDee's a slavedriver — she'll keep you running, Pee-Wee."

"Uh, could you please not call me that?"

Mike's eyes danced. "What? You don't like the name 'Pee-Wee?'"

"No."

"It's just a nickname, Jimmy. Sh-it, one of the best shortstops in history was named Pee-Wee — Pee-Wee Reese, from the Dodgers. My dad took me to see him play at Sportsman Park a few times."

"Well, I don't like the name, man."

Nicole's jaw dropped. "I can't fucking believe how rude you're being. You need to apologize — now."

"Damn it, Nikki, I don't like being called 'Pee-Wee.' What the hell, honey. I don't like the name, alright?"

"Why?" She snorted. "Are you afraid people will think it's because your dick is so little? Well, that is the reaso n — Pee-Wee. Now, shut the fuck up about it."

"Come on, Nikki."

"Come on, my ass. Apologize to my friend for being rude."

"Nikki—"

"Apologize, goddamn it, or get me the Yellow Pages. Right fucking now. I'm not kidding, Jimmy. Don't test me."

Jimmy sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, man."

"No problem." Mike stared Jimmy down. "Get to work early today, Pee-Wee, and get those cases out of the way before the factory crowd gets there. Okay?"

"Um, yeah." Jimmy licked his lips. "I will."

With a final smirk, Mike hugged Nicole and Marlene and strolled out of the house.

Jimmy turned to his wife. "Um, do you care if I go try to get a little sle-ep before I start work? I've been up since yesterday."

Nicole shrugged. "Go ahead — Pee-Wee."

As the devastated husband plodded toward the basement with tears in his eyes, Margaret stuck out her bottom lip. "Aw, poor Jimmy, don't you worry about that mean ol' nickname Mike gave you — you'll always be Numb-Nuts to me."

Nary a comment so far. I won't bother to continue formatting the story for this site and posting it here if there's no interest. Let me know, thanks.

Chapter 5


Nicole squinted at her thumbnail and dabbed it with the brush. As she applied a second coat of Shanghai Scarlet, a voice from behind made her flinch.

"Um, excuse me. Nikki?"

"Goddamn it, Jimmy, why are you sneaking up like that? Now I gotta do my thumb all over again. What the fuck."

"S-sorry."

Nicole frowned. "What do you want?"

Jimmy settled on the couch next to his wife. "Um, I was hoping we could talk for a minute before I go to work."

"Ugh. What?"

"I don't know; it just seems like you're mad at me all the time these days."

"Well, quit fucking up and I won't be mad."

"I know, I know, I'm trying, I'm sorry. It's just ..." He gazed into Nicole's eyes. "Do you even love me anymore, Nikki?"

Several seconds of silence passed through Jimmy like barbed wire until Nicole finally sighed and said, "I don't know what to think."

"W-what does that even mean?"

"It means what it means. I don't know what to think."

"It's a simple question; you either love me or you don't. Did you ever love me? Your ma said you only married me because I was making good money at Triumph."

Nicole giggled. "Well, Ma isn't exactly your biggest fan, now, is she?"

"She hates my guts."

"She thinks you're a loser. She thinks you lucked into that manager's job, and that you'll never amount to anything ever again."

"What about you? Do you think I'm a loser?"

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Jimmy, but you are a loser."

"Come on, honey, what the fuck. That's not fair. People lose jobs."

"Yeah, and people also pick themselves up again and don't act like whiny little bitches. All you did after you got fired was mope around and bellyache about how unfair everything was. You wouldn't have been fired in the first goddamn place if you knew how to stand up for yourself. But you don't. You got no balls. You let people walk all over you. How am I supposed to respect that, Jimmy? Huh? Tell me. How?"

"I-I dunno, honey."

"I can't respect you when you act like a loser."

"But, see, that's the thing — you didn't respect me even when I was at Triumph managing 35 employees. I was the executive manager and you still told me you didn't respect me. Remember that? After the New Year's party? The things you called me?" Jimmy's bottom lip twitched. "You're so mean to me sometimes. You always have been."

"Fuck you, Jimmy, you scrawny little weasel. I got mad after the party because you stood there and did nothing while that dru-nk asshole pawed at me."

"Well, you were acting like you enjoyed it."

"All the more reas on for you to stand up and be a man. Instead, you stood there and watched him grab your wife's ass. With that stupid fucking look on your face. So, yeah, I told you I had no respect for you after that."

"Honey—"

"Honey, my ass. Listen, if you don't like how things are, you've always known where the door is. You could've left a long time ago. Still can. Anytime you want, Jimmy. You think I'm a bitch? Leave, then, mo-therfucker."

Jimmy winced. "Please, honey, come on. I'm begging you. That's not what I'm saying. Okay, there's problems — but when you promise 'till death do us part,' you don't just quit when your marriage has problems. You work through it. Try to fix it."

"You want to fix it?" Nicole lit a cigarette. "Stop fucking up so much."

"Well, how do I do that, Nicole? Please — tell me what I have to do."

"Don't lose this job, for starters. Make enough money for us to move out of here and get a decent place. That's what you can do."

Jimmy touched his wife's shoulder. "I will. I promise. I'm sorry I haven't been able to find work, honey. I know it's been hard on you. Especially losing the house and having to move back here with your mom."

"Yeah, no shi-t, it's been hard."

"But I'm working now. I mean, it's not ideal, and I'm sure I can find something that pays more later on — but for now I promise to bust my ass and I'll try not to ... you know, fuck things up."

Nicole nudged Jimmy's hand from her shoulder. "Spectacular. Now, don't talk about it — do it."

"I'm gonna. Watch and see." As Nicole turned her attention back to her fingernail-polishing, Jimmy cleared his throat. "Um, honey?"

"What?"

"Uh, do you think we could maybe, um, you know, spend some time together when I get home from work? In ... you know, in bed?"

"Why? You know I can't feel it."

"N-no, honey, I'm sorry, that's not what I'm talking about. I was hoping maybe I could, you know, lick you and stuff?"

Nicole smirked. "We'll see. Right now, you need to get to work. Mike wants you there early, remember? Ask me in the morning — but don't be bothering me, or rubbing up against me if I'm still asle-ep. When I get up, we'll see. Okay?"

"Oh, thank you, honey, thank you so much." Jimmy leaned toward his wife for a kiss on the lips but she turned her head and he pecked her ear instead. He thanked her again and started getting ready for work.

On the drive to the Sitting Bull, Jimmy blasted the radio, singing along at the top of his lungs to one of his favorite s ongs, Dawn's "Knock Three Times." He felt giddier than he had in ages following his long-overdue talk with Nicole, and he dared to hope that things might finally be looking up for the first time in memory.

Jimmy's mood deflated a bit when he entered the bar and approached DeeDee, who stood near the register frowning.

"Mike called," she said, scowling harder. "He says he talked to you about being on probation?"

"Uh, yeah, he told me."

"Well, I'm supposed to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't fuck up. I'm not real happy about that, to tell you the truth — I got better shi-t to do than to babysit your ass. But that's what the boss wants, so that's what we're gonna do. Now, then, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Um, about what?"

"About how much you fucked up yesterday, and how you're not gonna do it again."

"Oh, yeah, Mike already talked to me about Red."

"And?"

"He says I should do whatever he says and not piss him off."

"Right. And the same goes for me — do whatever I say and don't piss me off. Got it?"

"Um, yeah. Got it."

"In fact, apply that to everyone who comes in here. Customers, the barmaids, everybody. Do what they say and don't piss them off. Think you can handle that?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Good." DeeDee pointed to the back. "The beer shipment just came, so you need to haul ass and get all those cases down to the basement. Then get started on those bathrooms; we had a big lunch crowd and they're both a mess. When you're done with all that, come see me and I'll let you know what to do next."

Jimmy hopped to, and when his shift formally started at six he'd already been humping for an hour, while the full staff had punched in and was awaiting the coming factory rush. In addition to DeeDee and her assistant manager, Lisa, the bar employed five barmaids — Janet, Terri, Gloria, Cindy and Charlotte — along with Marco the cook and Tank the bouncer, who looked like a Hell's Angel in a bad mood. DeeDee had made it clear to Jimmy that he should consider all of them his bosses.

After the beer shipment was put away and both bathrooms were spotless, Jimmy checked in with DeeDee, who was counting change with Lisa near the register.

DeeDee glared. "Can you tell me why there's no Miller in these coolers?"

"Um, sorry?"

"The coolers. There's only two bottles of Miller in here."

"Was I supposed to put more in?"

"Yes, dipshi-t, part of your job is to keep the coolers stocked. Especially with Miller. Now, we've got no cold Miller, and the goddamn factory rush is about to start."

"I-I'm sorry. No one told me."

Lisa scoffed. "You're full of shi-t, Jimmy, I told you yesterday when you first got here."

Jimmy knew she was either mistaken or lying because she hadn't said a damn thing about having to stock the coolers. But he kept his mouth shut.

"Why are you standing around with your thumb up your ass?" DeeDee pointed toward the back of the bar. "Go. Get downstairs and bring up a case of Miller and get 'em in the damn cooler. Hopefully, they'll be cold enough by the time the rush starts."

As Jimmy started to slink away, DeeDee hollered, "GET THE LEAD OUT, GODDAMN IT!"

The browbeaten porter double-timed it, fighting the urge to tell the ball-busting bar manager to go fuck herself. As satisfying as it would have felt to tell DeeDee off, Jimmy knew there'd be hell to pay at home — and since Nicole had agreed to possibly spend "sexy time" with him the next morning, there was no way he was about to make waves. With a fake smile, Jimmy fetched the case of Miller at the quick-step and stocked the cooler, determined to get through the night without incident.

At a quarter after six, employees from the Corrigan Rocking Chair Company started filing into the Sitting Bull, and within a half-hour, the bar was jam-packed with factory workers looking to unwind. Luckily for Jimmy, he'd stocked the coolers in time for the customers to enjoy cold Millers, but that was the only thing that went smoothly. He ran himself ragged busing tables, sprucing up the bathrooms, fetching cases of beer from the basement, filling coolers and doing tons of other odd jobs. It seemed the entire bar staff had been informed that Jimmy was a probationary employee who needed to kiss major ass because they barked orders at him without even trying to be polite.

"Jimmy! Get a case of Blatz — and hurry up."

"Jimmy! Go to the storeroom and bring two salt-shakers — NOW!"

"Jimmy! Why are there empty glasses on that table? You need to stay on top of that, damn it. Do your job."

"Jimmy! Someone just puked in the men's bathroom. Get your ass in there."

As he bowed, scraped and scrambled for his superiors, the sex-starved simp ogled the bitchy barmaids, bodacious in their matching silky hotpants and tube-tops. Jimmy's lust nearly got him seriously maimed when Tank the bouncer busted him gawking at Gloria's ass as she strutted past the jukebox.

"Don't be staring at my lady with your tongue hanging out, you little prick mo-therfucker," the behemoth bellowed. "Disrespect her like that again and I'll snap your punk ass in half. You hear me, bitch?"

"Yeah, s-sorry, I didn't mean to ... I-I was just—"

Tank stormed away, uninterested in Jimmy's attempt to explain himself. With a sigh, the bony probationer resumed his duties, feeling like he couldn't do anything right, and that his coworkers all hated him. Perhaps, he thought as he blinked back tears, his wife and mo-ther-in-law were right — maybe he was nothing but a loser.

As he weaved his way through the bar with slumped shoulders, Jimmy tried to buoy his spirits with the hope that he might enjoy some intimate time with his wife the next morning if he didn't fuck things up too badly at the bar. For Jimmy, "sex" meant licking Nicole's pussy, usually while under the covers, with no reciprocation — and he rarely got even those paltry crumbs.

Nicole had made it clear early on in their marriage that his attempts at intercourse got on her nerves, since his three-inch cock barely penetrated her. "You end up sweating all over me and I get absolutely nothing out of it," she told him a few months after their wedding, destroying what smidgen of confidence he had and ensuring he wouldn't try to hump her again. Since then, their sex life had consisted of Jimmy toiling beneath the covers while Nicole either watched TV or read a magazine.

Something was better than nothing, though, and the prospect of a few minutes of intimacy with his beautiful wife spurred Jimmy on as he worked through his shift. He had almost talked himself out of being miserable when just before eight he glanced toward the front door and the blo-od drained from his face.

As the bar patrons cheered the arrival of their eccentric-but-generous boss, who was known for buying round after round for the house, the portly Red Corrigan strutted through the entranceway followed by Mike — and Nicole.

With a high-pitched ringing in his ears and a knot in his gut, Jimmy dashed to the men's room and stumbled toward the closest toilet. He didn't quite make it and puked all over the floor.

Just read this original piece for the first time. You are definitely one of the best in this genre.

Variations on a common theme, but well done regardless. Also I like the '70's setting.

Brilliant as always! I'm always left sitting here in a complete daze after reading your work. I can't wait to see where this one goes. Thanks so much.

Chapter 6

The men's room door creaked open. Jimmy hunched forward on the toilet holding his breath.

"Jimmy?" Lisa called. "You in here?"

"Uh, yeah," came the reply from inside the locked stall.

"Everyone's looking for you. Where have you been — sitting on your ass pretending to be using the damn bathroom? Or jacking off?"

"Um, no, I ... I have asthma, Lisa. I just had an attack."

"Oh. Wow. Shi-it, I'm sorry. You okay?"

"Yeah, I am now. Thanks."

"Well, um, when you're done, DeeDee says she wants you out front."

"Be there in a sec."

The door shut and Jimmy exhaled. As badly as he wanted to hide in the bathroom all night, he knew he had to pull himself together, march back out into the bar and face his wife to find out what she was doing with Mike and Red.

After yanking up his pants and flushing the toilet, Jimmy put one foot in front of the other and shillyshallied toward the men's room exit. He pushed out a lungful of anxiety, opened the door and stepped into the maddening crowd of dru-nken factory workers. Jimmy peered through the boisterous throng but was unable to find his wife. While scanning the room, he locked eyes with DeeDee, who crooked her finger at him.

The bar manager crossed her arms and glared as the probationary porter slinked closer. "Where in the FUCK have you been? We need Miller in the cooler, there's empty bottles and garbage all over the goddamn tables, and that kitchen looks like SHI-IT."

"Um, sorry, I ... I have asthma, and I had a pretty bad attack. I was in the bathroom trying to catch my breath."

DeeDee blinked. "Asthma? Jeez, you alright?"

"Yeah, thanks, I'm fine now. Sometimes it takes a while to get through it, though."

"You able to finish your shift?"

"Yeah, it shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. I'm glad you're feeling better. If you're up for it, then, go ahead and take care of everything, because it looks like shi-it and Mike's here."

Jimmy stocked the cooler and scrubbed down the kitchen, where Marco the cook had spilled a vat of clam chowder. The busboy then steeled himself before making his way the bar taking care of the tables. He knew he'd eventually run into his wife, and as he worked he did his best to tamp down his apprehension so the asthma wouldn't flare up for the second time that night. As he was policing a table near the front entrance he finally spotted Nicole sitting in a booth next to Mike and across from Red. She smiled at her husband and waved him over.

"Hiiii, Jimmy," Nicole slurred as he crept up to the table with his hands in his pockets. "Where you been?"

Mike frowned. "Yeah, these damn tables are a mess. What the hell have you been doing? Didn't DeeDee tell you it's your job to make sure the tables are cleared off?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I ... I had an asthma attack."

Red scoffed. "Asthma? Damn, boy, you got all kinds of problems, huh? You must've pissed Mo-ther Nature off something fierce, cuz she sure ain't been kind to you!"

"He manages the asthma okay; it shouldn't affect his job," Nicole told Mike before frowning at Jimmy. "What brought it on?"

"I ... I have no idea. It just came over me all of a sudden and I couldn't breathe."

Nicole informed her table companions: "His asthma usually only flares up when he gets nervous or scared."

"I bet that happens a lot with this skinny little pansy," Red said before touching Nicole's wrist. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey, I forgot he's your husband."

Jimmy gritted his teeth and absorbed the put-down as Nicole shrugged. "No big deal, Red," she said, kissing up to the rich guy. "I mean, Jimmy does tend to get upset a lot, and his asthma flares up sometimes." She smiled at her husband. "But you handle it fine, don't you?"

Jimmy nodded. "Um, yeah. What ... what brings you here, honey?"

"Oh, Mike came by to fix the kitchen window that wouldn't open, and when he was done he asked me to come out for a dri-nk. Ma's at Bingo Monday nights anyway, so I figured why not?"

"Oh." Jimmy twiddled his fingers.

Mike leaned back his seat. "Listen, if you say you're feeling better, then you should probably get back to work. There's a lot to do; this bar is a mess."

"Ah, okay, sure, you guys have fun." Jimmy faked a smile. "Does anyone need anything before I go?"

"Nah, we're good." Mike smirked. "Pee-Wee."

Nicole covered her mouth in a clear attempt at stifling a giggle as Jimmy turned to leave. The last thing he heard before shambling out of earshot was the dru-nken factory owner warble, "Damn, girl, I can't believe you're married to that pansy. I figured he was gay."

The humiliated hubby fought the urge to turn around and bust Red in his fat mouth, but he immediately pushed that bad idea out of his head. Even though the older man was severely overweight and out of shape, there was no guarantee the wimp could kick his ass in the first place — and if Jimmy chose to fight for his honor and did somehow get the best of Red, Nicole would go apeshi-it, as would Mike. And Jimmy had no doubt who would win those two battles.

As he went about his duties, Jimmy kept finding excuses to swing by the part of the bar where his wife was partying with her ex-boyfriend and his rich acquaintance. Every time the sad-sack hubby looked, Nicole was smiling or giggling at some private joke. Jimmy felt so sad and left out while his wife seemed to be having a ball with the two alpha males at her table. Because Red's employees revered him, a steady stream of well-wishers stopped by to chat, and from Jimmy's vantage point it seemed like the rocking chair mogul was introducing Nicole and Mike as a couple — or maybe, the despondent pantywaist told himself, it was just his imagination running wild again.

After the popular, filthy-rich Red had bought four rounds for the house, he stood to make a toast, holding his beer bottle aloft. Dozens of patrons, mostly his employees, followed suit.

"Here's to good friends — especially my friend Mike here, whose dad, Big Mike, opened the bar back in 1938. I've known this guy since he was running around shi-itting his diapers, but he's all grown up now. He went to Vietnam and made us all proud. Our Silver Star hero, everybody! This man saved a whole platoon."

The dru-nken customers cheered. Red held up his hand for silence and continued.

"Since Mike got home and took over the bar, he's done wonders with the place. He's expanded the Sitting Bull a few times and turned it into a real class operation that would've made Big Mike proud. We're all like family at the Sitting Bull, and the place sort of belongs to all of us in the community, and that's why I'm letting you all know that we'll be opening a whole chain of Sitting Bulls, starting in two states — but eventually throughout the entire mo-therfucking United States of America. Now — another round for everyone!"

As the house went wild, it appeared to Jimmy that Mike was surprised by Red's announcement. The war veteran sat motionless with his mouth open for several seconds, and then jumped to his feet and shook Red's hand before turning to Nicole and giving her a long bearhug. Jimmy watched from the far corner of the bar, feeling like a sap as the furniture factory bigshot led his two companions out of the booth and into Mike's office.

The next few hours were excruciating for Jimmy as he busted his ass running back and forth through the bar cleaning and fetching, all the while eyeing the office door and wondering what was going on in there. A threesome? Jimmy initially rejected that notion, figuring there was no way the gorgeous ex-cheerleader would ever sle-ep with a fat troll like Red Corrigan. Then again, Jimmy thought, a lot of money was at stake — although it was money that would benefit Mike, not Nicole, so why would she do something distasteful when she wouldn't get anything out of it? Unless ...

Jimmy tried to concentrate on his job and ward off the pictures and narratives his imagination kept conjuring up. The shift dragged out like an enema laced with shards of broken glass, and the overwrought hubby must've peeked at Mike's office door a thousand times as he bustled around performing his duties. Finally, when it was almost closing time and there were only two customers left in the bar, Nicole, Mike and Red emerged from the private room sniffling and pulling at their noses.

Red spotted Jimmy and pointed. "There's my lil pansy!"

Mike and Nicole smirked at Jimmy with cracked lips.

"The bar looks good, Pee-Wee." Mike waved his hand. "Nice and clean."

"Uh, t-thanks."

Red staggered up to Jimmy and threw his arm over his shoulder. "Mike says you real work hard for him like a good lil pansy."

"Um, I guess." Jimmy fumed at the insult but swallowed his anger.

Red pinched Jimmy's cheek so hard it made the smaller man wince. "Well, Mike won't make you available full-time, but your wife says you'd be up for coming over to my house once a week to clean for five hundred bucks a pop. How's that sound?"

Jimmy's lips motorboated. "F-five hundred dollars? A week? That's ... that's a whole month's pay."

"Well, I've got a big mansion." Red winked. "And, there'll be some other, um, extras you'll be responsible for. Your wife will explain later. Now's not the time."

"Wha ... I ..." Jimmy's stomach churned. He gazed into Nicole's dilated pupils. "Extras? What's going on, honey?"

"Not now. Like the man said, we'll talk later."

Red pulled at his nose. "Well, guys, I'm headed home." He shook Mike's hand. "Glad to be onboard."

"To success!" Mike toasted, hoisting an imaginary beer bottle.

After a quick hug for Nicole and a sneer for Jimmy, Red stumbled out of the bar.

DeeDee, who'd waited until the boss's conversation with the important customer was over, approached the trio. "The safe's full; you want me to make a bank run tomorrow?" she asked Mike.

"Yeah, thanks." Mike nodded at Jimmy. "How's his probation working out?"

DeeDee shrugged. "He's alright. I end up having to explain stuff over and over, but at least he works hard and does what he's told, unlike Carlos."

"Yeah, it's hard to find a good man for that spot." Mike rubbed his chin. "You know what, Jimmy? I want you to go to the bank. Have DeeDee give you the bags and write down the account number, and then tomorrow I want you to take the money into the First National Bank on Larson Street and deposit it in my account. This is a big job, Jimmy. You think you can handle it?"

"Um, y-yeah, of course."

"You sure about this?" DeeDee asked Mike, jerking her thumb at Jimmy. "He does what he's told, but he gets a lot of stuff wrong."

Mike shook his head. "Nah, Jimmy will be fine. Won't you, Jimmy?"

"I, uh, yeah."

"You know, there's probably four or five thousand dollars in those bags, Jimmy. That's enough money for you to just drive away and disappear into Canada or Mexico somewhere. I'm trusting you not to do that. Red says he wants you around, so I'm giving you more responsibility."

"What ... why would Red want me around? The fucking guy hates me. He's always saying rude shi-it."

Mike snorted. "Well, I told you before — Red Corrigan is a strange dude. I mean, strange. That's not exactly a secret. And he's taken a liking to you."

"A liking to me?" Jimmy begged Nicole with his eyes. "What the fuck's going on?"

"I told you: we'll talk later. There's a lot to go over."

Mike touched Nicole's arm. "You ready?"

She nodded. "Don't worry, Jimmy. It's gonna be fine. We have an opportunity to make a whole bunch of money. I mean, a whole bunch. And it's nothing illegal. Just be patient and I'll explain everything later, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, um, okay," Jimmy muttered.

Nicole flipped her hair and pranced out of the bar with her ex-boyfriend by her side.

Jimmy spent the rest of the evening in a daze as he helped close the bar and drove home eyeing the two bags of cash on his Gremlin's passenger's-side floorboard. He tried to focus on the road, but his mind was overwhelmed with the need to talk to his wife and find out what the hell was going on — but when he got to Marlene's house and sneaked into his basement quarters, Jimmy was bummed to find Nicole snoring away. He lay in bed and tried to join her in slum-berland but for hours his brain wouldn't stop racing. Finally, at dawn, he managed to drift off.

Nicole stirred first, looking and feeling haggard from the previous night's partying. Jimmy, always a light sle-eper, awoke as soon as his wife rousted.

"G-good morning," he ventured.

"Ugh, I did way too much coke last night."

"Is that what you guys were doing all that time in Mike's office?"

"Yeah — that, and talking about you."

"Me? What about me? What the hell's going on, Nikki? All this stuff about cleaning Red's house — for five hundred a week. He wants me around? It doesn't even make sense — the guy fucking hates me. And what 'extras' was he talking about?"

"Well, it's kind of an open secret that Red's gay."

"So?" Jimmy set his jaw. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Well ... you remember when we were first dating, and we got dru-nk and confessed secrets?"

Jimmy groaned. "OMG, Nikki, are you fucking serious? That happened in college. One time. I was out-of-my-mind dru-nk."

"But you said you kind of enjoyed it."

Jimmy rubbed his temples. "I can't believe you're bringing that up."

"What? Red said he's attracted to you, and he's willing to pay for it. Five hundred a week, Jimmy! That's twenty-six grand a year — way more than you were making at Triumph."

"Did ... did you tell them about Ronnie in college? When you guys were in Mike's office talking about me?"

Nicole touched Jimmy's hand. "Yeah. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I was on coke and ... well, I-I mentioned it."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I'm not kidding — and you might want to watch your fucking tone. I don't appreciate being yelled at."

"I ... I'm sorry. But, come on! I tell you a secret and you blab it to everyone?"

"Look, it just came out, okay? The man said he was attracted to you, and got talking about how much he'd be willing to pay, and I ... well, every time I do coke I end up saying something I shouldn't. That shi-it's like truth serum to me. But it all worked out, Jimmy — Red really wants you. Five hundred a week!"

Jimmy bowed his head. "Why are you doing this to me? Putting me in this position?"

"I'm trying to save our marriage Jimmy. Listen, this isn't a damn game. There's a lot of money on the table, and you need to think long and hard about this. Five hundred extra dollars a week would solve all our problems; we could get a house downpayment in a few months, easy."

"But, honey — I'm not gay."

"Neither am I, but if some woman wanted to sle-ep with me for two grand a month, I'd jump at it. Jimmy, it's twenty-six grand a year!"

"I know, I know, it's a lot of money."

"So?"

"I ... this doesn't even make sense. Red hates me. Why would he want to ... you know ... when all he does is put me down?"

"Mike says he's a real strange dude. He's the nicest guy in the world to most people, treats his employees like gold — but according to Mike, he always finds one person to pick on. It's a sexual fetish thing; he's a sadist who enjoys being mean to people he sees as weaker than him. He apparently had a chauffeur he dogged for years but the guy died. Red kept saying how you reminded him of his old driver, and actually wanted to hire you full-time. I mean, he wanted to hire you bad, but Mike said he needs you at the bar, so this was a compromise."

"A compromise? Those guys were making these fucking decisions without bothering to check with me? What the fuck, Nikki. This is bullshi-it."

"Nobody made a decision, Jimmy, stop being so dramatic. We talked about you, that's all. Red said he wants you, and I told him I'd pass that on to you. Nobody's making you do anything, Jimmy — but I'm telling you right now, if you say no to all that money without even thinking about it, after everything you've put me through, then we're gonna have a major problem."

"It is a lot of money, but—."

"So, will you do it?"

"I ... Nikki, I'm not gay! And I sure as hell don't want to be that fat mo-therfucker's whipping boy — I don't care how much money we're talking about! Come on, Nikki. Think about what you're asking me to do! Honey, I'm not gay."

"Well, you're sure as hell bisexual."

"No, I'm not."

"Bullshi-it. I could see it a mile away even before you told me about that guy in college."

"It was one time."

"Once is all it takes. Look me in the eye and tell me you never think about being with a guy ever."

"I ... okay, maybe I think about it, like every once in a while — but that doesn't mean I actually want to do it. I like women. I'm not bi. Ronnie and me were dru-nk, and we ... experimented. One time. That's all."

"And you did that for free. This is twenty-six thousand dollars a year, Jimmy. TWENTY-SIX GRAND. You asked me yesterday what you can do to save this marriage. Well, Jimmy, this is what you can do."

"But, I—"

"I don't want to hear it. You either do what needs to be done to fix this marriage or you don't. You either sacrifice or you don't. What's it gonna be?"

"I ... uh ..."

"Think about the men who go down in the coal mines for 15 hours a day, seven days a week. Do you think they like doing that? Do they enjoy it? No. They do it for their families. They sacrifice, and put themselves though a living hell every single day of their lives in order to keep their families together. That's a lot harder than what this is."

"Honey, it would be so fucking embarrassing. I can't even believe—"

"Embarrassing? To who? You don't even know anybody in Harvest Springs — other than my Mom, and I doubt you could do anything that would make her think less of you than she already does."

Jimmy clutched his chest. "Ugh ... I can't breathe."

Nicole grabbed her husband's arm. "Look at me, Jimmy. Calm down. Breathe. Breathe. Okay?"

Jimmy nodded.

"Good. Listen, I know this is a lot to digest. I'm asking you to make a huge sacrifice for our marriage. Yes, I'm asking you to do something you don't like, but it's for us. At least try. If you don't like it, you can quit. But we've got to do something, because we won't survive the way things are now, Jimmy, and you know that. I can't respect a husband who can't even get us out of my mom's basement, you know? You said it just yesterday: I'm pissed at you all the time. You want us to go on like that until the inevitable happens?"

"I ... I ..."

"Come on, Jimmy — just say yes already and come lick my pussy." Nicole touched herself and shot her husband a sultry stare. "I'm horny as hell, and I need your tongue down here."

Jimmy's stomach felt like it had been pumped full of helium. Managing a gulp, he croaked, "Um, okay. Okay."

Nicole smiled, lay back on the mattress and spread her legs. With his heart pounding in his ears and his cheeks red-hot, Jimmy settled into position, staring into his wife's puffy pussy. He touched his tongue to the pink flesh and recoiled, but he didn't want to offend Nicole so after a split-second he resumed licking, even though something seemed awfully fishy.

Marco, the Sitting Bull cook, had made clam chowder the previous evening and she must've had a bowl, Jimmy reasoned as he supped up the glop. Deep down, or maybe not so deep down, the henpecked hubby knew better — but that was the story he told himself as he forgot all his troubles and dove into a heavenly world of aroused femininity.

I knew it was going to go someplace awesome!

Great new twist in the storyline.

Looking ahead to the upcoming chapters.

Chapter 7

The burlap moneybags called Jimmy's name in stereo. He squirmed in the driver's seat of his parked Gremlin, telling himself that he wasn't a crook while the devil on his left shoulder screamed at him to make like D.B. Cooper and split with the cash.

There was more than five grand in the two bags — enough money for Jimmy to start a new life, as Mike had jokingly suggested the previous evening when he'd directed his newest employee to deposit the Sitting Bull receipts into the bar's bank account.

A new life.

Jimmy gazed beyond the First National Bank parking lot at the nearby highway to Canada. With a drawn-out sigh, he wondered what a new life might look like. Maybe it would be a place where he didn't get dogged constantly by people who were supposed to be in his corner; a place where his secrets weren't betrayed, where he could pee standing up like a man — and where he wouldn't be pressured into having gay sex with some rich slob.

Scowling into the rearview mirror, Jimmy reamed himself:

"Dude, wake the fuck up. How could she ask you to do something like that? Even if it is five hundred a week — anyone who loved you wouldn't put you in that position. She doesn't care about you and she never did. Nicole only sees dollar signs. Take this cash and go to Canada, already. Start your new life, because there's nothing left for you here. Your marriage is done."

Jimmy looked away from the mirror, as if averting his gaze could erase the obnoxious truth. He tried to recall the good times but all he heard in his head was the nasally drone of Nicole's bitching. From their first date at an expensive restaurant, when she'd complained to Jimmy that the food "tasted like dog vomit," the out-of-his-league milquetoast had endured constant nagging, delivered in a tone that sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"All she ever does is harp; any little thing sets her off. Then again, you've put up with it this long and it hasn't ki-lled you — but do you really want that for the rest of your life? To constantly be nagged at? No. Hell no. You've only got so much time left on this earth, Jimmy. Fuck this, shi-t — go to Winnipeg."

Jimmy tried to turn the ignition key but his hand wouldn't move. He glared at himself again.

"You goddamn idiot — are you crazy? What are you even thinking? Don't you realize how lucky you are to have a beautiful wife like Nicole? You think women like that grow on trees? You think an ugly, pimply-faced dickhead like you would ever luck out like that again? No, that's impossible because she's one-of-a-kind. Those eyes ... those cat-green eyes — you could never leave her and you know it. She's all you ever wanted — why would you even want to leave?"

Jimmy gritted his teeth.

"Ugh, you know the answer to that, stupid-ass. What the fuck. There are a million reasons you should dump that bitch."

On their fifth date, after ki-lling a bottle of wine, Nicole suggested they confess their deepest secrets, "to build trust." Jimmy went first and told his new gal pal that he'd sucked his classmate's dick after getting hammered at a party during his freshman year in college. Nicole reciprocated by revealing that she'd once eaten cat food on a dare — not exactly a shocking disclosure, and Jimmy felt like a sap for having volunteered such a closely-held, embarrassing tidbit, only for her to come back with something so lame and impersonal.

As his relationship with Nicole progressed, Jimmy got used to feeling like a sap.

"You should've known how she was when she told you to pee sitting down because you dribbled a little on the toilet seat. What kind of woman wants her boyfriend to do that? And what kind of man does it?"

Blinking twice, Jimmy reminded himself that there were good times, too. He recalled their carnival date when he won a huge stuffed bear because the guy in the booth had guessed his weight wrong. He remembered the trendy self-help seminars and ashrams he and Nicole attended early in their relationship, and their nights out at nice restaurants.

"Don't fool yourself, asshole — a geek like you would've never gotten past hello with a woman that beautiful if you hadn't been an executive manager at Triumph Industries making twenty grand a year. You both know you were lucky to land her, which is why she's had you pussywhipped from the start. You never get to fuck your own wife, dude. Ever. Think about how messed-up that is. She only lets you lick her pussy once every few months — and by the way, you know damn well that wasn't clam chowder this morning, you stupid mo-therfucker. It's embarrassing that you'd even try to tell yourself that. You know what cum tastes like — you've slurped up enough of your own after jacking off, you sick, perverted bastard."

Jimmy's eyes drifted downward toward his lap. He gulped with shame as he contemplated the minuscule bump in his jeans.

"Keep your head in the sand all you want to, dumbass, but she's fucking Mike. Hell, she hasn't even tried to hide it. It's almost like she's been daring you to say something to for-ce a confrontation that would allow her to run off with the s-on-of-a-bitch. But ... last night at the bar, she seemed weird. So did Mike."

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Jimmy pondered the previous evening's strange turn of events.

"Something changed after they came out of Mike's office. You could tell by the way they were talking to you. Think about it, dude: the dynamic has shifted. Nicole and Mike need you now, because for whatever reason, Red has some weird, sadomasochistic attraction to you. The fat, crazy bastard is the greatest guy in the world to most people, but according to Nicole, he finds one weakling to fuck with — and he picked you because that's exactly what you are, Jimmy: a goddamn weakling. Red could smell it on you the minute he saw you. Marlene always says the same thing — that she had you pegged as a loser from day one. Nicole probably did, too, although she isn't the first woman to marry a guy she didn't respect because he made good money."

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Jimmy thought of all the suspected affairs during his five-year marriage to the former Harvest Springs High School cheerleader. The first time was a few weeks after the wedding, when Jimmy ran into Nicole's friend Tammy in the dru-gstore when she was supposed to be at the theater with his wife seeing "Love Story." When Nicole got home from her "dinner and a movie with Tammy," the devastated husband detected the unmistakable scent of Hai Karate. Another time Nicole was gone all night, returning home after noon the next day with the cockamamie excuse that her car had conked out on a desolate stretch of highway, and that she'd waited all night before anyone had stopped to help.

"Dude, you really need to wake the fuck up. Throughout this entire relationship, she's treated you like a dog — and then the minute you lose your job, she starts talking divorce. She and her bitch mo-ther have made your life miserable since you moved into that old cunt's basement. And since Mike came back in the picture, Nicole has pretty much had one foot out the door. Of course, now that there's a chance you could start making good money again, she'll stick around — but you'll have to prostitute yourself to some deranged, sadistic homosexual who gets his kicks humiliating you. If she loved you, would she ask you to do that? LOOK AT YOURSELF, ASSHOLE! Would she? Hell no, she wouldn't. She doesn't love you, man. She never did, and you fucking well know it. Just leave the bitch, Jimmy; she sure as hell was gonna leave you before Red brought all this up. How much of this shi-t are you gonna put up with? Start a new life, already. Take the money and get the fuck out of here. Everything's cheaper in Canada, and five grand would go a long way. It's all there in front of you. All you've got to do is take it."

Scratching the back of his neck, Jimmy gazed at the pair of burlap sacks on the passenger's-side floorboard.

"Why did Mike want you to deposit this money in the first damn place? And why did he suggest that you could take the cash and run off to Canada or Mexico? Was that more than just a joke? Was he giving you an out, knowing you wouldn't have the balls to go through with it, and that you'd be even more submissive after you chose to stay in a fucked-up, humiliating situation? Is Mike even that devious? He doesn't seem to be; he's more of a frontal-assault kind of an asshole. Mike doesn't bother with innuendoes — he makes it perfectly clear that he thinks you're a joke. He bullies you, dogs you around and calls you Pee-Wee in front of your wife and everyone else. And you don't do a damn thing about it. No matter what he or anyone else says or does, no matter how mean they are to you, you're too much of a pussy to stand up for yourself. You just smile that fake-ass smile and put up with it all. What the fuck, Jimmy. What's wrong with you? Are you seriously that pathetic? Why do you let everyone walk all over you?"

Northbound State Highway Sixty-Four was a straight shot to the Canadian border, about three hundred miles north of Harvest Springs. Jimmy squinted at the sundrenched road, imagining himself zooming northbound at breakneck speed with the wind in his hair and "Born To Be Wild" blasting from the speakers — and then in his mind's eye he saw the Gremlin skidding into a median and exploding, throwing out a spectacular fireball.

"Is there a way you can stay married to Nicole and turn this situation to your advantage? What if Mike was telling the truth? What if he really does plan to give you more job responsibilities — and maybe even more money — because Red wants you to stick around? Mike obviously wants to keep Red happy, and Nicole wants to keep Mike happy. You're the key to making all that happen, Jimmy. You hold all the power. If you leave, Red's going to be pissed, and Mike and Nicole won't like that. So, maybe, if you can somehow just close your eyes, take your mind elsewhere and let the fat bastard do whatever he wants to you once a week, you can reap some major, major benefits. As long as Red wants you around, you'll be able to hold your marriage together and make a ton of money in the process. It ain't gonna ki-ll you, Jimmy. You've done worse for free."

A heavyset businessman waddled out of the First National Bank toward the parking lot. Jimmy glanced at the guy's crotch and wondered what Red Corrigan's cock looked like.

"Ugh, the mo-therfucker's repulsive. Then again, Ronnie wasn't exactly Robert Redford, and you sucked him off — and, as Nicole said, you did that without getting paid a dime. It's not like you never fantasize about sucking cock, Jimmy, don't lie to yourself. Dude, you could make a lot of money with this crazy shi-t Red's proposing. He's already a jerk to you anyway — so what if you have to blow the guy once a week? Imagine what twenty-six grand a year could do, on top of what you'll be making at the bar."

Jimmy reminded himself that money wouldn't solve all his problems — although he had to admit that a lot of issues could be fixed if he was bringing home that kind of dough.

"Nicole would lighten up if you got us out of her mom's house. Marlene's a bad influence on her, so not being around that bitch every day would be a huge help in and of itself. You need to at least think about this, Jimmy. Maybe cleaning Red's house once a week and giving him some 'extras' won't be so bad, if it means everything else in your life will get better. You sure as hell need to do something, because you can't keep going on like this. So, either start the car and hit the road, or else get off your ass and deposit this cash, go home to your beautiful wife — and in the long run you'll make a hell of a lot more money than the measly five grand that's in these stupid bags, and for better or worse, you'll get to keep your marriage. Nicole is the one you've always dreamed of, Jimmy. Yeah, she can be difficult — the pretty ones always are. This is it, man. If you're gonna leave her, then do it. Otherwise, stop driving yourself crazy like this. Shi-t or get off the pot, you asshole."

Closing his eyes because he was too embarrassed to look at his reflection, Jimmy conjured up an image of his wife's angelic face ... her perfect, white smile ... her cute, little button nose ...

The lovestruck weakling wiggled out of his Gremlin, trudged to the other side of the car and lifted both bags from the floorboard. As he struggled with his heavy load, Jimmy lumbered into the bank, twisting his grimace into something meant to resemble a smile.

Chapter 8

It curved to the left, had a freckle on top and smelled like oysters.

Red wiggled it. "Beg, pansy."

"Um, please?"

"Please, what?"

Jimmy gulped. "Uh, please can I ... s-suck it?"

"Say please again — the way I like, goddamn it."

"Pleeeeeease?"

"Pretty please with sugar on top."

"Uh, pretty please with, um, sugar on top?"

Red patted the kneeling man's head. "That's a good lil pansy. Come and get it."

As Jimmy scootched forward, Red farted. "There's a telegram from the King of England," the old man hooted as his spluttering supplicant scrambled backward across the carpet.

"Gggg!" Jimmy held his hand over his mouth, trying not to puke.

The eccentric multimillionaire let loose a second burst of flatulence that sounded like a sad trombone before leaning down and sniffing the air above his lap. "Aw, come on, pansy, my farts don't smell so bad. It could be worse — I could've had corned beef for breakfast instead of oatmeal."

Jimmy started to get to his feet with every intention of leaving before Red froze him by mentioning Nicole: "I'm done farting, pansy, I promise. Now come over here and earn that five hundred bucks — unless you want to tell your wife you didn't feel like making money today."

Steeling himself and holding his breath, Jimmy inched forward again. Red pulled him along by the ear.

"Come on, get busy," the crazy furniture baron demanded. "Use that cute little mouth of yours."

It was only Jimmy's second time "cleaning Red's house" and the experience still shocked him to the core. During the inaugural visit, Jimmy had been for-ced to give Red a two-hour hummer, and when it was finally over the poor wimp's jaws were sore, he had a pounding headache — and a major soul-ache to go with it.

On the flip side, he'd earned five hundred smackeroos for those two hours, an incredible sum, especially during the tough recession of 1975. Nicole's smile when he'd handed over the money had made Jimmy forget all about his ordeal at Red's — for a few minutes, anyway. Sucking the old man's crusty cock had been beyond disgusting but things immediately got better on the home front because of it, and Jimmy was twisted up in knots as he vacillated between feeling good about what he'd done and hating himself for it.

As the days passed and his memory of the act faded, Jimmy found himself accentuating the positive — and there was plenty to feel good about, too. For starters, Nicole had stopped insulting him at every turn. Within the space of a week, she'd allowed Jimmy to lick her pussy three times — a frequency of intimacy he hadn't enjoyed in years. On two of those occasions, her vagina had tasted suspiciously gloopy, but with things going so well he wasn't about to say anything. One night, Nicole and Marlene had even let Jimmy play a few hands of cards with them, rather than relegating him to his usual task of keeping score.

It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Even though she'd toned it down, Nicole still bitched at Jimmy a lot, as did Marlene, out of habit more than anything. And two nights during the week Nicole had completely embarrassed him by showing at the bar with Mike. Each time, she'd disappeared into Mike's office without so much as a glance Jimmy's way. On the first occasion they took Red into the room and when they emerged it was obvious they'd been doing coke again. The second time was even worse, with Mike and Nicole arriving at the Sitting Bull looking like the quintessential power couple. They chatted with the manager DeeDee for a few minutes before heading into the office alone, emerging more than an hour later with their clothes and hair clearly disheveled.

So, as far as Jimmy was concerned, things were still far from perfect — but for the first time in ages he felt like he was actually pleasing his wife by bringing home the bacon. He actually felt like a man. The obvious affair with Mike seemed unimportant; he was willing to endure the humili-ation because of his desperate, neurotic need to be what his fat-her hadn't been: A reliable breadwinner who made his wife happy. Jimmy's vindictive, ball-busting mo-m had drilled into him from the time he was a toddler that it should be his life's ambition to take care of his wife and keep her happy — no matter what — and that if he failed, he was "a miserable piece of shi-t."

Jimmy must've heard his mo-m say ten thousand times: "Your fat-her was a miserable piece of shi-t. Any man who don't put his wife first is a miserable piece of shi-t."

That's the last thing Jimmy wanted to be — and with Nicole walking around on a cloud, he thought, he wasn't a miserable piece of shi-t at all. Far from it.

"So, what if she's fucking Mike and flaunting it for everyone to see? Who cares if she treats me like an underling while deferring to that asshole like he's her goddamn lord and master? Nicole isn't just happy these days — she's deliriously happy. She smiles all the time, and I'm the one who's making that happen, because I'm bringing in lots of money and taking care of her how I'm supposed to. What else matters? How can I be a miserable piece of shi-t if my wife is deliriously happy because of me and the cash I'm bringing in? I am a man. I am. Mo-m would be so proud."

Jimmy was almost looking forward to visiting Red's spooky old mansion again to earn more money, so his darling wife would have another five hundred reasons to smile.

Almost.

The week went by fast, and come Saturday morning, Jimmy was on Red's porch knocking on the door at 10 a.m. sharp as required. Not being one for niceties, as soon as Jimmy passed through the threshold, the old man plopped down in his easy chair and flung open his robe. The second blowjob was considerably shorter than the first, with Red pumping his wad in about forty-five minutes. In addition to being grateful for the relatively early climax, Jimmy felt lucky that the old man hadn't farted in his face again like he had when the knobber had first started.

After Red caught his breath, he rubbed his slimy dick up and down Jimmy's nose. "That felt good, pansy," he said with a leer.

"Um, thank you sir."

"It's nice to have a little pansy around again," Red sighed, using the "p" word so often Jimmy figured it must have been part of his weird fetish. "It's been lonely around here since my lil Poo-Pooh died. I was hoping you'd be my new Poo-Pooh and work for me full-time, but Mike says he's never had a porter as good as you, and he can't spare you at the bar."

The silence dangled there for a second. Red picked his nose, wiped a booger on the underside of his chair and continued:

"Mike says you're a hard little worker who does what he's told. See, pansy, you're meant to be somebody's little bitch. I could tell the first time I met you. I see how you are with that pretty little wife of yours — she's got you wrapped around her finger. She's fucking Mike right under your nose and you ain't doing shi-t about it. Are you?"

"Aw, come on, Red—"

"Call me 'sir,' goddamn it, or you don't get a dime."

"Okay, sir ... that's um between Nicole and me."

Red chuckled. "Whatever, pansy. Some people are just born to be little bitches, and you're one of 'em. It's how Mo-ther Nature intended it. Little pansies. That's what you are — a pansy. Do you accept who you are, pansy?"

Jimmy shrugged. "I-I don't know, sir. I'm just trying to get everything together, sir."

"There's nothing to get together, pansy. Your problems come when you try to fight who you are. Who are you?"

"I ... I don't know. A pansy?"

"Say it like you mean it."

"I'm a pansy."

"Yes, you are. You do realize that wife of yours is gonna fuck Mike whether you want her to or not, right? If you want to stick around, you'll just have to learn to accept it — or she'll leave your skinny little ass so fast, it'll make your head swim." Red stared down at Jimmy. "You know I'm right. Right?"

"I-I don't know, sir."

"Well, are you a pansy or not? And here, I thought you were starting to accept who you are. Now, say 'I'm a pansy' again — but convince me you mean it, or you ain't getting paid."

"I'M A PANSY, SIR."

"See? If you accept that, all your troubles will go away. My Poo-Pooh was the happiest little pansy you ever seen, because he embraced being a bitch. He was a defective like you. Unlike you, he didn't run from who he was."

The door creaked open and an emaciated woman in a raggedy frock poked her tangle-topped head through the entranceway. "Um, sorry to bother you, sir, I didn't know you had company. Lunch is ready."

"Get the fuck out of here, you ugly whore — don't ever interrupt me again!" Red screamed, sending the woman scurrying away.

Jimmy cocked his head. "Who was that?"

"None of your fucking business, pansy. And don't you ever talk about what goes on in this house to anyone, or your money-train is cut off — you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

"I got a lot of money, pansy, more than you could ever dream of, and I don't mind spending it, either — but you're gonna do what I want, goddamn it, and how I want it done. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Red sat on his chair scratching his balls, and for several minutes the only sound was the grandfat-her clock's ticking.

Finally, Jimmy cleared his throat. "Um, is there anything else you need, sir? Or can I go now?"

Red closed one eye. "Hey, you know what might feel good?"

"Um ... sir?"

"I said do you know what might feel good for me?"

Jimmy gulped. "Um, no s-sir?"

"If you put your tongue up my ass."

"I ... uh, sir, but, um, I-I don't ... I—"

"Oh, what are you babbling about, pansy? Just do it. I used to love when Poo-Pooh did that for me."

"But ... but, sir, I—"

Red waved his hand. "Tell you what: I'll double the five hundred. A thousand bucks. We'll call it a tip for good service."

"Sir, I really don't ... I mean, it's just—"

Red shrugged. "That's okay, pansy. I'll just tell that little wife of yours that you turned down a chance to double your money and make a thousand bucks for a few minutes' work. I'm sure she'll like that."

Jimmy's shoulders slumped. "O-okay," he said in a small voice.

"Well, hot dog!" Red rose from his chair and slipped out of his robe. Bending over and grabbing the chair's arm, he winked at Jimmy over his shoulder. "Ready to get your nose dirty, pansy?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" Red shook his ass back and forth, making the cheek-flab jiggle. "Do it like you mean it."

Jimmy did it. As disgusting as it was, he did it. He occupied his mind by going through the lineup of his favorite team: Rose. Morgan. Bench. Perez ...

Somehow, the little wimp got through it. When Red was satisfied, Jimmy excused himself and made a beeline for the bathroom to gargle with water and toothpaste, since he couldn't find mouthwash.

Jimmy had to sit through another half-hour of Red's discombobulated, insane rambling before the old man finally released him from his mansion. Jimmy sprinted to his Gremlin before peeling out of the long circular driveway. He made it about a quarter-mile before pulling over and spending the next twenty minutes parked on the side of the road, sobbing and cussing at himself in the rearview mirror.

After a good cry, Jimmy wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, squared his shoulders, slammed the car into drive and headed homeward. As he drove, he thought of how happy his wife was going to be when she found out he'd made a thousand bucks — but then it dawned on him that she'd want to know why. He hoped he could get away with a vague explanation that Red had wanted some "extra stuff" done, although he knew Nicole — and Marlene — would press for more details. They'd certainly grilled him after his first Saturday afternoon at Red's.

As he nosed the Gremlin onto the freeway, Jimmy's mind drifted to the raggedy woman he'd seen at Red's place earlier. Jimmy had only caught a quick glimpse of her face, but something had seemed profoundly sad about the waifish, mousy lass in the tattered dress. He couldn't stop thinking about her — and why Red had seemed so rattled when she'd stuck her head through the doorway. Why had he insisted that Jimmy never repeat what went on inside the creepy old place that looked like Dracula's castle?

All those questions were instantly rendered moot when Jimmy pulled onto Marlene's street and saw Mike's Corvette parked in her driveway.

Chapter 9

Jimmy sucked in a lungful of oxygen, yanked open the front door and stepped into Marlene's living room, where Nicole and Mike were chilling on the couch with their feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Um, hey, guys," the third-wheel hubby muttered. "Where's Marlene?"

"Dottie took her to Bingo." Nicole leaned forward, scooped up her pack of Virginia Slims and shook loose a cigarette. "How'd it go at Red's? Did he get off okay?"

Jimmy shot a glance toward Mike before turning to his wife and beseeching her with his eyes.

"What?" Nicole shrugged. "Mike already knows about you and Red — we set the whole thing up in his office, remember?"

"Yeah, I fucking remember." Jimmy stomped his foot. "So, I guess I'm just not allowed any privacy at all am I? What the fuck, Nicole. This is a bunch of mo-therfucking bullshi-t."

Mike sat up straight and pointed at Jimmy. "You better watch your tone when you talk to her — you hear me, goddamnit?"

The wimp wilted. "I ... okay, I'm sorry, it's just a fucking embarrassment, man."

Mike nodded. "I get it, dude. Red's insane, and he's hard to deal with on any level. I can't imagine—"

"Insane isn't the word for it." Jimmy shuddered. "The guy's a fucking psycho."

"But at least he's discrete, right?" Mike cocked his head. "He doesn't bring any of that ... um, you know, to the bar, does he?"

"No, and he's stopped insulting me in public, too. He ignores me now — so I guess that's good."

"Well, that's just how Red is." Mike scoffed. "Everyone knows he's gay but he doesn't really advertise it."

Jimmy gulped. "Does anyone else at the bar know—?"

"About you and him?" Mike waved his hand. "No, no, he wants to keep that quiet. I told you: he doesn't advertise. He had that chauffeur who died, a kid named Peter who was always hanging around."

"Was that Poo-Pooh?" Jimmy asked.

Mike shrugged. "Probably. He called him Peter in public. Everyone knew what was up there even though Red tried to downplay it. But you? No, the only way anyone will know is if you tell them. What you need to understand about Red is, he wants everyone to like him, which is why he's always buying rounds — but then he can be mean as hell, depending who he's dealing with. He's fucking crazy, that's all there is to it. All I know is, he told me he's happy with you. Ecstatic, in fact."

Mike downed his can of beer and set the empty on the table. "Listen, what you're doing is really important — not just for me, but for Nicole, too. Really important. This is high-level stuff, Jimmy. The Corrigan fortune goes back to the pioneer days, when they started cutting down all the forests around here and the family cornered the lumber market. Red's supposedly a multibillionaire — and if you get him in the right situation, the loopy mo-therfucker will start throwing money around like crazy. And, man, does he have a thing for you — he keeps saying you're perfect. That's why I wanted to talk about a few things, Jimmy."

"T-talk?"

"Yeah." Mike nodded at Marlene's empty easy chair. "Why don't you go ahead and sit down?"

As Jimmy edged toward the chair wondering what was up, Nicole wiggled her empty beer can. "Here, before you sit down, can you go get me another one?"

"Grab me one, too, would you?" Mike pointed at his can.

Jimmy collected the empties and shuffled to the kitchen, noting how Nicole and Mike were asking him to do something instead of barking orders as usual. After serving the beverages, Jimmy settled in Marlene's chair and braced himself for whatever was coming.

Mike took a sip. "So, Nicole says you have a business degree?"

"Um, Business Administration, yeah."

"And what kind of company were you at?"

"Triumph Industries; they manufacture plastic buttons for leisure suits."

"What were your duties, exactly?"

"Uh, well, I was Executive Manager, so I was in charge of making sure everything ran smoothly on the shop floor, with the bookkeeping, all the permits, shipping — pretty much everything."

"And Nikki says you were in charge of thirty employees?"

"Um, thirty-five." Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "Why are you asking me all this?"

"Because I need an executive assistant who knows what he's doing — someone who has a college degree. I barely finished high school before I got drafted."

"Um, executive assistant?" Jimmy shifted in the chair. "Uh, what—?"

"Red says once we start expanding, there are gonna be a bunch of details that need ironing out — proposals to write up, meetings with zoning boards and shi-t. Red says it would help if we had someone trustworthy onboard who has a degree and knows his way around all that bullshi-t — and Nikki was saying with your background you'd be perfect. It would be on top of your porter job, because I still need you at the bar. But I'd cut you some slack there; I was thinking you could work at the bar four days a week and then spend two days taking care of the administrative stuff."

"That would give you one day off, which is one more than you have now," Nicole interjected. "Plus, Mike's gonna pay you five bucks an hour — more than double what you're making now. And that's on top what you get from Red."

Jimmy looked at his shoes. "Shi-t, it sounds like you two have already decided this."

"Well, yeah, we talked about it — but, no, we haven't decided anything, so don't be a smartass." Nicole scowled. "You're getting a great opportunity here, damn it. You wanted a job where you could use your degree? Well, here you go — you have a chance to get in on the ground floor here, Jimmy. In a few years, there's gonna be Sitting Bulls everywhere, and we can all get rich if we play it right."

A strange chill suddenly whooshed through Jimmy, and he felt as if he was being lifted by some invisible for-ce he couldn't control. When he opened his mouth to breathe, the words tumbled out: "Are you guys having an affair?"

Nothing was said in response for several seconds until Nicole finally broke the silence: "Jimmy, you need to understand something: I don't want a divorce from you."

Jimmy gritted his teeth. "What the hell's that supposed to mean? Is that a yes?"

"Yes to what?"

"Are you having an affair?"

"Well, what did you expect?"

Tears filled Jimmy's eyes. "I was supposed to expect this?"

Nicole touched Mike's shoulder. "Would you mind leaving me and Jimmy alone for a minute?"

"You sure?"

"Yeah, let us talk, okay?"

"All right, I'll be out back getting some air." Mike rose from the couch and strolled away.

Nicole patted the couch cushion. "Come over here."

Jimmy didn't move.

"Okay, then don't come here; I don't give a shi-t." Nicole sniffed.

The pussywhipped pansy slinked out of the chair and plopped onto the couch next his beautiful wife.

Nicole squeezed Jimmy's knee. "Do you remember that guru at that ashram we went to in Milwaukee when we first started dating?"

"W-what?"

"That funny-looking guru; the little guy with the long beard who kept pulling his earlobe. We kept laughing about him."

Jimmy blinked. "Um, yeah? W-what about him?"

"Well, remember how he talked about the relationship he had with his wife? How they could sle-ep with anyone they wanted? He kept talking about free love?"

"Yeah, that whole thing was a scam." Jimmy rolled his eyes. "The guy kept asking for money."

"— and for the women to take their shirts off," Nicole added, and for the first time in ages she and her husband shared a chuckle. After the mo-ment passed, she continued: "This doesn't have to be something that tears us apart, Jimmy. It's the Seventies; lots of people have open relationships."

"Um, open? What does that even mean?"

"It means we don't own each other, Jimmy. I'm a liberated woman, and no man owns me. I'm telling you, a lot of people do it — Dick Cavett had people on his show the other day; they live in a commune and everyone has sex with each other. It's really not a big deal anymore."

"So ... does that mean I could sle-ep with anyone I wanted, too?"

"Well, you're already having an affair with Red, aren't you?" Nicole maintained a deadpan expression as long as she could before busting out in giggles and slapping Jimmy's arm. "Come on, you gotta admit that was funny."

"Not really. Okay, just a little bit."

Nicole lit another cigarette. "Seriously, Jimmy. Why not try it? An open marriage. Yes, you could see whoever you wanted, too."

"But ... but I don't want anybody else. I only want you, Nicole."

"Aw, that's sweet." Nicole placed her hand on Jimmy's cheek. "But you need to realize: because of your ... little issue, I've had to go without one of the most important things a woman needs — sex. Women need sex, Jimmy. You know?"

Jimmy bowed his head and cast a doleful glance at his crotch. "I-I'm sorry. I can't help it. It's not my fault."

"Well, it's not my fault, either, is it? I need sex, Jimmy. So, what do you suggest I do? Resent you for it and yell at you all the time? Keep sneaking around with Mike? Let things fester, and cause a rift in our marriage that eventually tears us apart — right when we're finally starting to put it back together?"

The air was still until Nicole, who had a firm grasp of the neuroses that drove her husband, threw out the clincher: "Your mo-m would be so proud of the way you're handling things, Jimmy."

"You ... I-I ... you think so?"

"Oh, jeez, yes, are you kidding? The way you're sacrificing? Doing stuff that you don't like so you can hold this marriage together and take care of your family? Yeah, babe, I'd say your mo-m is probably smiling down right now as we speak. You're nothing like your da-d — he ran off when things got hard. You've stuck it out, and you're doing what needs to be done, even if it's something you're not real happy about. I'm proud of you, and I'm sure she is, too ... up there."

Jimmy blushed. "Well ... thanks, Nicole. I really appreciate that. I really do." After thinking about it for a second, he leaned to the side, dug a handful of bills from his pocket and offered them to his wife. "Um, here, honey. That's a thousand — Red paid double."

Nicole's eyes bulged. "What? Wow, you've got to be kidding me. A whole thousand bucks? Why did he pay double?"

"Um ... er, I, well." Jimmy wrung his hands. "Promise you won't tell Mike?"

"Of course not, honey."

"Well, he ... he ..." Jimmy's chin hit his chest. "He wanted me to lick him. You know, his ... his butt."

"Ew, you licked his ass?" Nicole crinkled her nose before catching herself and softening her expression. "Aw, I'm sorry, honey, you did good. I know that had to be hard. I really do appreciate what you're doing for us."

Upon receiving his beloved wife's praise, Jimmy felt warm and gushy inside, although enough anxiety oozed through to prompt him to ask again: "Promise you won't say anything?"

Before she could answer the kitchen door rattled open and Mike's huge frame filled the entranceway. "You guys okay? Need more time?"

Nicole looked at Jimmy. "Are we good, honey?"

"Um, yeah." Jimmy played with his sleeve.

Mike strode into the living room and approached the couch. He stood in front of Jimmy, extending his palm. "We cool?"

Jimmy nodded and shook his rival's hand, unable to look him in the eye.

"So, you'll take the job?" Mike didn't loosen his grip.

"Um, s-sure," Jimmy croaked.

Nicole squealed. "Ooh, this is so great! Let's celebrate!" She smiled at her husband. "Someone should run to the A&P to pick up a couple bottles of burgundy."

Brilliant.

I like the internal dialog Jimmy struggles with.

And the character portrayals in your stories could be closer to reality than we know (at least in my experience)

YouKnowWho

Thank you, I really appreciate the compliment -- and I also agree with your statement.

While some of the stuff I write can certainly get a little over-the-top, I base a lot of the characters' cruelty on situations I personally saw growing up. I was raised in a trashy part of town and I know of dysfunctional families that did all sorts of unconventional stuff, including wives humiliating their wimpy hubbies by openly fucking other guys. I can think of four different situations like that -- including in my own family.

I've shared this story before (maybe not here), but my m-om cucked my da-d with a guy and then she and her friends laughed about it. My fat-her's humili-ation upon finding out about the affair was the source of much glee between my mo-m and her friends, and I heard that story multiple times growing up.

So, this kind of stuff DOES go on. It's usually accompanied by a lot of other nasty things (dru-gs, marriages that end in divorce or worse, etc.) But these cruel families absolutely exist.

cwcobblestone

Good point.

Most of the couples I was involved with went their separate ways. Not the ideal outcome in my book, but ultimately better for everyone.

I started by dating married women soon after graduating highschool. But I wasn't happy with the secret liaisons. The first couple I joined knew we all had to agree on the direction things went. There was no humi1iation (despite some of the extreme things we acted out).

I also insisted we talk about boundaries (or pushing past them) beforehand. Then talk again within a day or two after.

They didn't all go as planned. Hurt feelings, wives getting pregnant (never by me), confusion, friends and family coming in.....

A lot can go wrong. And it did.

Of the couples who stayed together, they grew stronger despite the unconventional nature of their relationships going forward.

To your above story, I liked the internal dialog. Spouses, especially the husbands, had doubts about their roles at times. But those doubts often lost out to the eroticism, spontaneity, dom/sub psychology and the creative scenarios of the moment.

Anyway, you and a handful of others on this site are great writers. You all capture the nuances and foibles of the lifestyle in a way that glues the reader to each chapter.

Chapter 10

The living room sloshed back and forth, up and down and around in circles. Jimmy hugged the wall to avoid falling on his ass.

Mike leaned back on the couch and chuckled. "Damn, Pee-Wee, you're that dru-nk from one glass of wine?"

"Um, I took an aspirin earlier," Jimmy muttered as he sank into the easy chair. "I think it weakened my system."

A voice from the bathroom doorway cut in: "Well, I hope your system isn't too weak for this."

Jimmy and Mike turned to see Nicole wearing nothing but a smile.

"Damn, girl." Mike whistled.

Jimmy blinked. "Wha-what are you doing, honey?"

"Wellll," Nicole drawled, her speech slurred from four glasses of burgundy. "Since we're in an open marriage now, I figured I'd give us all a little treat — our first ménage à trois."

"Shi-t, yeah, baby." Mike rubbed his hands together.

"Um, h-honey?" Jimmy squirmed. "Are you ... you sure you want to do this? Isn't your ma coming home?"

"Nah, she'll be at bingo till at least ten — we've got plenty of time." Nicole sauntered to her husband's chair and began unbuttoning his shirt. Jimmy stiffened as his wife slipped off his top, exposing his bony shoulders.

The poorly-endowed simp's apprehension increased a thousandfold after Mike stood, peeled off his shirt and wiggled out of his jeans and boxers, uncorking a cock that had to be at least eight inches long flaccid. Jimmy gulped, knowing he'd also have to strip below the waist if he didn't want to piss off his wife — there'd be hell to pay if he acted like a party-pooper and refused to join in, so with his heart pumping, Jimmy slipped out of his pants and sat glued to the chair, still wearing his tightie-whities.

By then, Nicole had floated across the room and was making out with the man who'd taken her virginity. The sight initially made Jimmy sick to his stomach — but then the churning feeling in his gut worked its way down a few inches, and he found himself becoming aroused by his wife's open display of infidelity. As he watched Nicole snog with her masculine war hero, Jimmy's hand found its way inside his drawers.

Nicole broke the kiss and smiled at her husband. "Come on, baby, take those off and get over here."

With a gulp, Jimmy rose and lowered his Fruit of the Looms. Upon spotting his employee's tiny cock, Mike tried to stifle a snicker by burying his face in Nicole's hair, although Jimmy noticed and covered his diminutive package with both hands.

"It's okay, honey," Nicole cooed, cupping her breast and aiming the nipple toward her husband. "Come over here and suck this. Make mama feel good."

Jimmy's head swam as he stumbled to his wife, leaned down and swirled his tongue around her nipple while Mike soul-kissed her and fingered her pussy. Jimmy's dick was as throbbingly hard as it had ever been, checking in at a robust three-and-a-quarter inches.

After several minutes of erotic bliss, Nicole disengaged from the two men and took a step backward. "Whew! Let's move this party to the basement, shall we, gentlemen?"

Without waiting for an answer, the nude seductress led the way through the kitchen and down the basement stairs toward the bed where she and Jimmy had slep-t since moving into her mo-ther's house a few months earlier. Nicole lay on the mattress, spread her legs and crooked her finger at her husband.

"Come on, baby." She pointed at her pussy. "Do your thing."

Jimmy didn't need to be told twice, falling onto the mattress and diving in. Mike joined him on the bed and made out with Nicole while her hubby 'did his thing' down below. Nicole rocked her hips and moaned, displaying an anim-alistic passion Jimmy had never before witnessed.

It was, by far, the most erotic moment of the little fella's life — and things got even steamier from there, sending the gob-smacked milksop into a Twilight Zone tizzy.

Nicole nudged her husband's head out of the way, allowing Mike to mount her. "Come lick my tit again," she hissed. Jimmy was quick to obey.

With a powerful, pulsating penis pounding her pussy and a twirling tongue titillating her titty, it wasn't long before Nicole fell into a noisy, protracted orgasm, screaming so loudly it made Jimmy flinch. A few seconds later, Mike let out a groan and pumped out a ball-busting climax of his own before rolling over and mopping his brow.

Jimmy continued sucking his wife's tit until he came next — without laying a finger on his dick.

Nicole giggled. "Wow, I've never seen that. You busted a nut without even touching it, honey!"

Mike smirked at the heaving little guy. "You alright there, Pee-Wee? Your face is red as an apple."

"Y-yeah, sorry about that," Jimmy mumbled.

"What's there to be sorry about, honey?" Nicole leaned over and kissed her husband on the forehead. "You enjoyed yourself, didn't you? I know I sure did."

"Uh, yeah." Jimmy blinked. "Um, that was ... incredible."

"I know. It was great. And you know what? I'm not ready to quit." Nicole patted her pussy. "It would really feel good if you licked me some more, honey. Would you?"

Without a second's hesitation, Jimmy complied, and it was only after he'd tasted Mike's cum oozing from his wife's pussy that it dawned on him what he was doing. He felt a mixture of embarrassment and horniness as he submissively supped up spooge while far above him, Nicole and Mike lay in each other's arms, floating on a post-coital cloud.

Through half-closed eyelids, Nicole gazed at her hubby as he licked. "That feels so good, honey. This is the best time ever, huh?"

Jimmy nodded without missing a beat, and continued worshiping Nicole until she had a second orgasm — not quite as violent as her first climax, but still beyond anything Jimmy had ever seen before.

When the heady hubby lifted his head from Nicole's crotch, Mike smiled at him and wiggled his cock. "You do it for Red. How about me? Would you?"

Jimmy complied, feeling as though some invisible hand was pulling his strings. He tried to tell himself he was only blowing Mike to 'go along' and not make waves — but his dick betrayed him, rising to its full three-and-a-quarter inches just moments after he'd had a powerful, no-hands orgasm.

As he curled his tongue around Mike's huge slab of meat, with his wife beaming down on him, Jimmy finally had to admit that the situation — his subservient position — felt right somehow, as embarrassing as that was to contemplate rationally. He actually felt grateful that Nicole and Mike were allowing him to be a part of their intimacy, and he redoubled his efforts at pleasing his wife's boyfriend.

Mike noticed Jimmy's renewed vigor. "Damn, Pee-Wee, you're really good at that," he sighed, patting his pleaser on the head. "No wonder Red pays five hundred bucks a pop."

"He's got a talented mouth," Nicole agreed as she stroked her husband's ear.

Jimmy kept up a steady pace until Mike stiffened, grabbed a handful of hair and shot his second load of the evening down his employee's throat. After the bucking died down, Jimmy slipped away and settled on the floor at the foot of the mattress while Nicole and Mike relaxed on the pillows cheek-to-cheek.

Several silent seconds passed until Nicole pushed out a lungful of satisfaction. "Oh, my Gawd, you guys — that was fucking incredible."

"Fucking A, it was." Jimmy chuckled. "Was it good for you, too, Pee-Wee?"

Jimmy nodded, an icy, submissive ball forming in his stomach upon hearing the nickname that had previously caused him to recoil. "Uh, yeah. That was ... that was ... the best ... the best ..."

Nicole giggled. "I'm so glad you enjoyed yourself, honey. See? When you open your horizons, you never know what might happen."

Mike sighed. "Well, I don't know about you, baby, but I've worked up an appetite."

"Yeah, I'm starving, but I don't feel like moving." Nicole smiled at Jimmy. "Would you mind making us a couple sandwiches, honey?"

Jimmy nodded. "Or, if you want, I could drive to Burger Chef and grab us something."

Nicole grinned. "You're so sweet, honey. Burger Chef sounds yummy!"

With a song in his heart, Jimmy dashed upstairs and got dressed. He was about to walk out the door when he remembered what he needed to do before he could buy hamburgers. His spirits were a bit dampened as he trudged back downstairs with his chin on his chest.

Nestled in her boyfriend's arms, Nicole smiled at her hubby as he descended the stairs. "Forget something, honey?"

"Um, I ... I don't have any money," Jimmy mumbled.

Mike smirked. "I left my pants upstairs — go grab what you need out of my wallet, Pee-Wee."

"Uh, t-thanks," Jimmy replied and headed back up the steps, lost in a submissive haze.

After securing a ten-dollar bill from his boss's wallet, Jimmy staggered out of the house and slipped into the Gremlin. He stared at himself in the rear-view mirror with Red's words from earlier that day echoing in his head:

"Some people are just born to be little bitches, and you're one of 'em. It's how Mo-ther Nature intended it ... your problems come when you try to fight who you are."

Chapter 11


Jimmy strutted into the Sitting Bull with his chest puffed out. DeeDee's scowl deflated him.

"Where the hell have you been?" The bar manager pointed toward the back room. "There's Blatz and Miller cases piled up — you're supposed to get here an hour early on delivery days, goddamn it, and you're a half-a-fucking-hour late."

"I-I'm sorry, uh ... Mike wanted some stuff done; he said it was okay to come in late."

"Bullsh-it. What did Mike want done?"

Jimmy thought fast. "Um, uh, some, uh, paperwork for the ... expansion. He, um, needed to find out regulations and stuff."

"You're full of sh-it, Jimmy." DeeDee's eyes narrowed. "I can always tell when someone's lying."

"I'm not — I was with Mike, I'm telling you."

"We'll see when he comes in later." DeeDee poked her finger in Jimmy's face. "It's gonna be your ass, you lying little weasel. Now, get to work."

"DeeDee, I swear — I'm not lying," Jimmy lied.

It was a half-a-lie. Jimmy had indeed been with Mike, but they hadn't been working on franchise plans — the two men had spent the better part of the afternoon sending Nicole into sexual Nirvana, with the war hero fucking her brains out while Jimmy held her hand and sucked her tit. When the humping was done and orgasms had been achieved, 'Pee-Wee' happily licked up the gloopy mess, giddy in the knowledge that for the first time since marrying Nicole, he was an important part of her intimate life. The fact that he had to play second fiddle to Mike (and lick his cock clean) wasn't something Jimmy merely tolerated — it turned him on like crazy. Mike and Nicole seemed to enjoy it on their end, too, and were apparently happy to have the little guy around.

As far as Jimmy was concerned, all was right with the world. He'd never felt so wanted by his beloved wife.

Since their first threesome earlier in the week, there had been two repeat performances, including the afternoon romp that caused Jimmy to be late for work. After lunch, Marlene had announced that she was going shopping, and as soon as she'd walked out the door Nicole was on the phone begging her boyfriend to come over. Jimmy had a snack ready for the boss-man by the time he arrived, although Mike eschewed food until after he'd dragged Nicole to the basement and drilled her, aided by the supplicant 'Pee-Wee' — a nickname that now stirred Jimmy's loins whenever he heard it. After the fucking was done and the alphas' genitals had been licked clean, the wimp dashed upstairs and fetched the oven-baked cheese puffs he'd made. The lovebirds chilled in bed and nibbled, watching their eager little servant get ready for work.

When Jimmy showed up to the bar a half-hour late, he had to come up with a plausible excuse for his tardiness. After his conversation with DeeDee, Jimmy waited until she'd gone into the office, and then rushed to the payphone to call Marlene's house, so he and Mike could get their stories straight. There was no answer; Jimmy put the dime back in the slot and phoned Mike's place. After nobody picked up, the nervous porter cut bait and got to work, hoping to coordinate the alibi with the boss when he came in later.

As he lugged beer crates to the basement, Jimmy could still taste Nicole and Mike on his lips, since the horny hubby hadn't brushed his teeth after licking them clean, wanting to retain the residue of the magic he'd been a part of for as long as possible. Although it was embarrassing on one hand, Jimmy knew he'd found his place in the sun being submissive to Nicole and her lover. He'd never felt so calm, so satisfied, so ... right. He had a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach and it was as addicting as heroin.

Jimmy realized that Red, as crazy as he was, had been a hundred percent correct — some people are born to serve, and Jimmy was one of them. All his problems had stemmed from trying to fight who he really was, just as Red had indicated. The old bastard may have been loopy, but Jimmy could tell he had an uncanny insight.

Red wasn't just a sage — he was solely responsible for every one of the recent drastic changes in Jimmy's life. From the beginning, the old coot had been the Great Oz manipulating pulleys and levers from behind the curtain, driven by his need to satisfy his weird, sadistic, homosexual cravings.

The whole thing seemed clear to Jimmy when he looked at the big picture: After Red's submissive chauffeur Pooh-Poo died, the eccentric tycoon needed a new weakling to kick around, and when an opportunity presented itself, the crafty so-nofabitch immediately sized up the situation and pulled everything together like a master of the universe rearranging planets and stars.

From the mo-ment Red met Jimmy, he sensed he was a "born pansy" like Pooh-Poo. The old man knew that "born pansies" didn't grow on trees, so he began plotting to ensnare the little wimp. When Mike and Nicole arrived at the bar together for the first time and hung out with Red, the lumber baron saw his chance and seized on it. He could immediately tell how pussywhipped Jimmy was, and figured he could manipulate the wuss through his wife — and after Red deduced that Nicole was in love with Mike, he realized that the war hero would be the way to reach her.

So, the astute factory owner reeled Mike in by agreeing to bankroll his franchise idea. He then loaded up the Vietnam vet and Nicole with primo Peruvian flake cocaine, and once they were good and high, he started prodding, and manipulating the conversation to where he wanted it to go. Sure enough, Nicole blurted out that her husband had sucked a classmate's cock in college, and Red told her that he felt sexually attracted to the little guy. Red offered to pay a whopping five hundred bucks a week for a few hours of sexual service from the new porter, while making it clear without actually coming out and saying it that Jimmy's involvement was essential to the Sitting Bull expansion deal. That ensured buy-ins from both Mike and Nicole, whom Red had pegged as a gold-digger from the start. The furniture mogul had no doubt Nicole would talk Jimmy into being his sex slave for five hundred a pop.

Red had instantly sensed that Jimmy was pliable and ripe for the plucking. The wimp's vindictive mot-her had raised him to be a supplicant husband who put his wife's needs above all else, so it was inevitable that he'd end up pussywhipped. Growing up in such a ball-busting atmosphere had left Jimmy with little confidence in most situations, although he was highly intelligent and had genius-level organizational skills, which had enabled him to prosper as the Executive Manager at Triumph Industries.

Still, Jimmy had always let everyone push him around — and that's how he was cornered into taking half the blame when a subordinate manager got caught stealing from the company. Nicole had warned Jimmy that his acquiescence would come back to bite him in the ass, and when it did and he got fired, she never let him hear the end of it. After they lost their house and were for-ced to move in with Marlene, their marriage had plunged steadily downhill until the recent changes had suddenly and radically turned the relationship on its ear.

Jimmy was smart enough to see how Red had manipulated things, but too weak to do anything about it. Besides, he didn't want to do anything about it, because for the first time in his life, he truly felt happy. Sure, he was still everyone's peon — but he'd been everyone's peon anyway. Since Jimmy had decided to accept his station in life, people had at least stopped being overtly mean to him, other than Red during their Saturday sessions. Nicole's attitude had drastically changed. Meanwhile, Jimmy's sex life had never been more satisfying, even if it was still a bit uncomfortable to admit to himself how much he was enjoying being Nicole and Mike's subservient little toady.

It all stemmed from Red, the chess master. Jimmy wondered if the fat, old bastard wasn't Beelzebub himself.

Speaking of the devil, the popular lumber heir sauntered into the Sitting Bull just as Jimmy had finished carrying the last beer crate to the basement.

"Hey, there, boy-o, how about grabbing me a cold one, would ya?" Red asked politely, keeping up public appearances.

"Sure, thing," the porter replied, continuing the ruse.

Jimmy rushed to the bar and retrieved a bottle of Hamm's. As he set it down on Red's table, the old man picked his nose and wiped a booger on his napkin. After glancing around to ensure nobody was within earshot, Red pointed to the crusty green globule and whispered: "Listen, pansy, I've got two grand in my pocket if you eat that right now. You got three seconds to decide. One ... two ..."

Without thinking, Jimmy scooped it up with his finger and sucked it down, and then bolted to the men's room, where he threw up in the toilet.

Red sauntered into the restroom and chuckled when he saw Jimmy hunched over the toilet retching. The old coot walked up behind the wimp and dropped a handful of hundred-dollar bills in the toilet water.

"Most lucrative meal you ever ate, huh, pansy?" he chortled.

"Ggg, yes, sir," Jimmy croaked, eyeing the money as it floated around with chunks of puke.

Red strolled out of the bathroom singing "It's a Long Way to Tipperary."

With a shudder, Jimmy plucked the money from the toilet water, cleaned it off in the sink and stuffed it in his pocket. After rinsing his mouth five times, he smiled at his reflection in the mirror. The taste was gone and he had two thousand big ones to give to Nicole. He thought about how over the moon she was going to be — it had been a lucrative meal, indeed. For enduring a few seconds of abject disgust, Jimmy had pocketed two grand in tax-free cash.

Then, Jimmy looked deeply into his eyes and the grin vanished. His conscience told him there'd eventually be a price to pay for having Red chip away at his dignity bit by bit in exchange for decent treatment.

"That's how the devil works — he entices you, ensnares you and tricks you into making compromises until he's got you in his trap. And it's not like this bargain at the crossroads is getting you fame and fortune, or turning you into a kick-ass guitar player, either, dude — all you're getting out of the deal is that you don't get openly insulted by Nicole anymore, and you get to be a sex slave to your wife, her boyfriend and some fat slob who owns a rocking chair factory."

When his mind conjured up images of his subm-ission, Jimmy's disposition instantly switched from morose to horny — and even though he realized sexual enticement was also how the devil worked, the milksop stopped thinking so hard, reached into the front of his jeans and kneaded his diminutive dick. He recalled how Nicole's well-fucked pussy had looked and tasted earlier, along with Mike's thick, juicy, throbbing, meaty ...

"DICK-HEAD! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?"

Lisa's angry voice made Jimmy flinch. He let go of his pecker and rushed out of the bathroom to see what the irate assistant manager wanted.

"Those fucking coolers need to be filled with Miller before the rush," Lisa barked as soon as she saw her subordinate. "How many goddamn times do I have to repeat myself, for chrissakes? I'm telling DeeDee you keep hiding in the damn bathroom."

"I-I wasn't hiding, Lisa — I got sick," Jimmy pleaded.

Lisa rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's what you keep saying. Just fill the damn coolers already." Before Jimmy could reply, she stormed away.

Red, who'd watched the interaction from his booth, winked at Jimmy. "You'll be alright, boy-o," he called across the bar. "Just keep your chin up — and, like my ol' grandpappy always used to say: Don't eat anything that disagrees with ya!"

Good one! You write as well as ever, CW.

Thank you so much!

Chapter 12

Jimmy was on his knees cleaning puke off the floor when he glanced up and swooned at the sight of Nicole and Mike strolling into the bar looking like Barbie and GI Joe.

The power couple made a beeline for Red's booth. The old man stood and hugged Nicole before giving Mike a hearty handshake. After the trio sat down, Red waved Jimmy over. The porter hopped to his feet and scurried across the bar.

"Hey, guys." Jimmy smiled and subconsciously stood on his tiptoes with his hands folded submissively in front of him. "How's it going?"

"Why don't ya bring me and my guests some drin-ks, boy-o?" Red cupped his hands over his mouth and hollered: "In fact — drin-ks for everyone! And make 'em doubles!"

The Sitting Bull patrons roared as Jimmy scuttled to the bar to fetch his wife's burgundy, Mike's Jim Beam and a bottle of Hamm's for Red. As the little guy was headed back to deliver the drin-ks, DeeDee caught up to him.

"Let's straighten this out with Mike right now," she spat, nudging him aside with her shoulder so she could get to the booth first. "Hey, Mike — Jimmy says you told him he could come in late today."

Jimmy cut in: "I told her we were researching stuff for the bar's expansion."

Mike nodded. "Yeah, Jimmy's gonna be helping me with a lot of that, DeeDee."

Red touched Jimmy's arm. "He's supposedly a genius at business, this one — the boy's got a college degree and everything. Mike made him executive assistant. Too bad — I wanted to hire him."

DeeDee frowned. "So ... is he still on probation?"

Mike rubbed his chin. "Yeah, let's keep him on probation for a while longer." He chuckled and winked at Jimmy. "That okay with you, Pee-Wee?"

Jimmy blushed. "Uh, s-sure, I just want everything to, uh, work out."

The boss waved his hand. "Nah, I'm just fucking with you, Pee-Wee. You're off probation."

Everyone laughed while Jimmy blushed.

"Um, thanks," the pipsqueak porter peeped.

"Well, I'm glad, because I'm tired of babysitting him." DeeDee chuckled and walked away.

Red raised his bottle. "Let's celebrate!" He nodded toward Mike's office and pulled at his nose, then sniffed loudly in case nobody got the hint. "You guys want to celebrate in style?"

Mike stroked his own nose. "Hell, yeah."

"Sounds good to me." Nicole grinned at her boyfriend.

The trio stood and took a few steps before Red stopped and turned around. "You too, boy-o," he said. "We're celebrating your big promotion. Come on."

With his heart thumping, Jimmy followed them into Mike's office. Red plopped in an office chair, pulled a vial from his pocket and dumped a pile of cocaine onto Mike's desk.

As soon as they'd stepped behind closed doors, Nicole and Mike locked limbs and they stood there embracing and watching their benefactor cut up the coke with his Diner's Club card.

Red sneered at Jimmy. "Now that we're among friends, get down on your knees, you skinny little pansy cocksucker."

Jimmy bowed his head and obeyed.

"You ever do coke, pansy?" Red asked.

"N-no, sir."

"Well, they say it brings out your true personality — so, we're gonna find out how much of a pansy you really are. Mike, make sure that door's locked."

"It is."

"Good. Because I plan on having some fun with this little pansy." Red offered a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill to Nicole. "Here you go, girlie. Ladies first."

Nicole snorted the two lines that had been set out for her — massive rails, about six inches long, two inches wide and a half-inch deep. Mike went next, and then Red held out the bill toward Jimmy.

"Come on, pansy. Your turn."

Blinking a mile-a-minute, Jimmy rose from his knees and took the "straw" from the old tycoon. With a gulp, the supplicant snorted both lines, and the coke instantly hit him like a freight train, causing bells to clang in his head.

Everyone laughed as the little wimp stood there teetering. Then, Red surprised his audience by unzipping his fly and pulling out his dick. Nicole glanced at Mike, and the lovers tried not to laugh at the ugly, crooked, old, freckled thing.

Red scooped a measure of coke from the desktop and rubbed it on the tip of his cock. "Come lick that off, pansy."

Jimmy dropped back to his knees and complied. When the coke was gone, Jimmy started to lift his head, but Red held it fast.

"What's your hurry, pansy? I'm just gonna sit here and chat with my friends for a while, and I'd kinda like you to keep going. Okay?"

Jimmy nodded and continued sucking while Red tickled his ear.

"He's a lil good pansy. Does what he's told. He didn't get a chance to tell you, girlie — he made an extra two grand for ya earlier tonight."

Nicole's jaw dropped. "Wow, no shi-t! Two grand, are you kidding me?" She smirked. "What in the world did you have him do?"

Red yanked Jimmy's ear, pulling his mouth off his gnarled cock. "Tell the pretty little missus how you earned a cool two thousand for her, pansy."

Jimmy closed his eyes. "I ... he, uh, had me eat his ... his booger."

"Ew," Nicole and Mike said simultaneously as they leaned into each other tittering.

"And my booger tasted yummy — didn't it, pansy?"

"Um ... y-yes, sir."

"Say it: Red's booger tasted yummy."

"R-Red's booger tasted yummy."

"Put some enthusiasm into it, goddamn it!"

"RED'S BOOGER TASTED YUMMY!"

Red beamed. "He's a born pansy, I tell ya. You picked a real winner there, girlie."

Nicole nodded. "He does what he's told."

Red pulled Jimmy by the hair until he was looking up into his eyes. "You like being a little bitch — don't you? Tell the truth, pansy."

Overcome by emotion, not to mention primo coke, Jimmy started crying. "Y-yes, sir."

"Say it loud, pansy. Say it proud."

"I LIKE BEING A LITTLE BITCH."

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, although he could feel the heat from the smirks raining down on him as his beloved wife and her macho lover cuddled and enjoyed the proceedings.

"Hey, you know what?" Red rubbed his chin. "I've got an idea, pansy. How'd you like to dance the ol' chocolate cha-cha, right here in front of your pretty wife and her boyfriend?"

"Um ... huh?"

Red wiggled his crusty cock. "I want to fuck you up the ass, you little pansy."

Jimmy recoiled and glanced at his wife, hoping for support but finding only a sneer. His teeth chattered. "Uh, I ... I ..."

"Oh, stop your blubbering, pansy — I got five grand for ya. But you gotta act like you LIKE it."

Nicole's eyes lit up while Mike chuckled.

"Shi-t, Red — I'll let you fuck me in the ass for five grand!" the lanky veteran kidded.

Red shook his head. "No, I only want this little pansy. You gonna do it for me, pansy? Right here in front of your wife and Mike?"

Jimmy shivered. He was stoned out of his mind — but not too high to be turned on. He was also scared to death, but the fear added to his excitement.

Nicole noticed. "Oh, my God, look!" She pointed at the pup-tent in his pants. "He's got a little boner."

"I'll take that as a yes." Red rose from his chair and slapped his dick on the edge of Mike's desk five times. "Bend over the chair, there, pansy, and crack a smile for ol' Red. I told you I knew you were a little bitch when I first saw you — and you like being a little bitch, too. You're finally admitting it. Now, we're getting someplace, pansy."

Nicole rested in Mike's arms as they watched the show with amused smiles. Jimmy was doubled over the chair with a scared look on his face. Red positioned himself behind the wimp, spit on his hand, and lubed up his dick.

"Are ya ready to become a real pansy, pansy? Answer me!"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Well, hot dog! Let's gooooooooo!" Red thrust balls-deep into Jimmy's ass and the virgin yelped like a wounded cur. The old man started pumping away, ignoring Jimmy's screams and singing "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" at the top of his lungs.

Jimmy tried to think of baseball but it was impossible — everything was a swirling mass of pain and sexuality, and he felt like he was tumbling around in the spin cycle of a washing machine. He stopped running from it and went along for the ride, as the cock poked against his prostate gland, sending Jimmy into a dark, wet, dizzy place he'd never been before.

Nicole and Mike made out while Red sodomized Jimmy — although it was just the pansy's luck that the lovebirds broke off their kiss and glanced his way just as he squealed and started squirting cum without touching himself.

Red crowed. "He likes it! Hey, Mikey!"

Mike and Nicole doubled over with laughter.

After she'd caught her breath, Nicole locked eyes with her husband, who was still being fucked in the ass. "Well, there's no denying who you really are now, is there?"

"N-no," Jimmy groaned, lost in a mixture of hum-iliation and horniness.

"That's okay," she said, stroking his hair. "Everything's how it should be. Just relax and be the little bitch that you are."

After a few more thrusts, Red tensed up and pumped his load into Jimmy's ass. When he was finished, the old man pulled out with a pop. He ripped a few blank sheets out of a legal pad, balled them up and stuffed the makeshift stopgap between his quarry's butt-cheeks.

"That should keep the gift I gave ya from leaking out." Red chortled. "Keep that in there all night. Now, what do you say, pansy?"

"Um, t-thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, pansy." Red shook his dick. "Now, this needs cleaning — polish 'er up good for me, would ya?"

With a resigned sigh, Jimmy knelt and licked Red's penis clean. When he was finished, Mike opened a small refrigerator he kept in his office and handed his employee a can of V8 Juice. "Here, drin-k that — I don't want your breath smelling like Red's ass all night."

"T-thanks." Jimmy downed the can in one gulp.

Red leaned to the side and ripped a fart before pulling a wad of hundred-dollar bills from his pocket. After counting out the correct sum, he tossed it on the desk in front of Nicole. "Here girlie, might as well give that to you — the little pansy's gonna give it to ya anyway."

"Thanks, Red." With a huge grin that showed off her perfect white teeth, Nicole stuffed the cash in her purse

Mike shook his head. "Damn, Red, how much money do you carry around with you, anyway?"

"Just as much as I need to get what I want." Red winked at Jimmy. "Right, pansy?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Nicole smirked and kissed her husband on the side of the head. "Aw, Jimmy's a good little bitch — aren't you, Jimmy?"

"Um, yeah." He stole a glance at his wife. "T-thank you."

"No problem, honey — you made seven grand for me today. SEVEN GRAND! That's real good, honey." She giggled. "And I thought you looked kind of cute being a faggot."

Jimmy's face reddened.

Mike frowned. "She just gave you a compliment, Pee-Wee. What do you say?"

"T-thanks."

Red yawned. "Well, I'm gonna split. You got a nice, tight bunghole, there, pansy — I plan on using it a lot more in the future." He turned to Nicole. "If that's all right with you, that is. I got a lot more money where that came from."

"Oh, Jimmy will be happy to keep getting fucked." Nicole blinked at her husband. "Won't you, Jimmy? Tell him."

"Y-yes, sir," the wimp croaked. Seeing an opportunity to do some brown-nosing for his beloved wife, Jimmy added: "Thank you."

Mike snorted. "Okay, Pee-Wee, looks like the fun's over. Me and Nikki are gonna stay back here a while — you better get back to work. I'm sure those tables need busing, and the bathrooms both probably need attention."

"Yes, sir."

Jimmy couldn't help himself — as he limped out of his boss's office, the submissive, coked-up little toady sported yet another throbbing mini-boner.

It just keeps getting better and better, CW. Things are looking up for ol' Jimmy as he processes what's happening to him and the conflicts in his own head. I don't know if things are going to turn out all right for him and the other three, but it would be cool if it did.

I love stories with coke involved. Reminds me of my BBCs coming over to my place when I was single and partying with them and them treating me like a sissy and fucking me good!

Chapter 13

Marlene slurped her coffee with a furrowed brow.

"Uh-oh, something's up." She shifted in her recliner, gazing at her dau-ghter and Mike, who sat knee-to-knee on the sofa while Jimmy stood nearby twiddling his fingers. "What's going on, you guys?"

Nicole grabbed Mike's hand. "Well, Ma, we have something to tell you: The three of us ... well, we have sort of an arrangement now."

"Huh?" Marlene arched her brow. "What arrangement?"

"Tell her, Jimmy."

"Um, well, uh, Nikki ... well, she's in ... in love with Mike ... um, and—"

"—and I'm in love with her," Mike interrupted. "I always have been. You know that, Ma."

"Yeah, only since you two were in grade school." Marlene scrunched up her face. "But how—"

"It's the Seventies, Ma." Nicole kissed Mike's fingertips. "Things are opening up. Relationships don't have to just be two people anymore."

"So, what is this — some kind of hippie free love society bullshi-t?" Marlene scowled. "I won't have my house turned into some goddamn freaky hippie orgy hangout; I'm telling you right now."

Nicole held up her palms. "No, no, Ma, nothing like that. We're discrete — nobody knows, and nobody else is involved." She chortled. "Other than Red, but that's just him and Jimmy, and always at his house."

Jimmy flinched at the mention of his sexual service to the disgusting, old furniture factory mogul. He also noted how Nicole had omitted the romp in Mike's office a few nights earlier.

Mike squeezed Nicole's hand. "We're not looking to embarrass you, Ma, or go around advertising what we do. But we thought you should know, since Nicole is very important to me."

"Have you told your mo-m?" Marlene chuckled. "Although knowing Dottie, that crazy old biddy would probably get a charge out of something kinky like this."

"She knows how much I love Nicole," Mike said, causing Jimmy to wince. "We're gonna tell her, too, of course. But nobody else. Just family."

Marlene contemplated the news for several seconds before shrugging. "Well, Dottie and me had you two matched up from the time you were in diapers, so I guess it makes sense. Look, I'm not gonna pretend I understand all this, but as long as the two of you are okay with it, that's all I care about. Just don't go around embarrassing me; I don't want everyone at bingo to know, so I'm asking you to respect my wishes and keep your business to yourselves. But if you and my dau-ghter are happy, then I'm happy, too."

Jimmy was hurt that Marlene had left him out of her little speech, although nobody seemed to notice.

"Thanks, Ma." Mike rose from the couch, leaned down and kissed Marlene's cheek. "This will all work out fine. And we won't embarrass you, I promise."

Nicole followed suit, giving her mo-ther a peck before locking limbs with Mike. "It'll be nice to not have to sneak around behind your back anymore. We didn't want to keep all this from you, that's all. We'll be private otherwise."

Marlene lit a cigarette and tittered. "Damn, Mike, I never thought you were into other guys."

"Well, I'm not. At all." Mike glanced at Nicole. "Um, it's just ... uh ..."

"Jimmy, um, helps out." Nicole smiled. "It's not like anyone ... you know ..." She wiggled her tongue. "He's a good little cleaner, let's just put it that way."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Marlene blew smoke through her nose. "So, he's a Nancy Boy in the bedroom, too. Well, from what you've told me, he doesn't have enough downstairs to do much else."

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and cringed as Nicole and Mike snickered.

Marlene emptied her coffee cup and held it aloft. "Here, Numb-Nuts, congratulations on your new relationship, now refill that. And get started on lunch — I'm starving." She turned to Mike. "You staying to eat?"

"Sure — hey, Pee-Wee, grab me one of those coffees, too, while you're at it."

"Me too — cream and sugar." Nicole leaned back and accepted Mike's kiss.

Jimmy served the three coffees then busied himself in the kitchen whipping up a batch of chicken stir-fry. When it was finished he brought everyone their plates before sitting cross-legged on the floor near the couch, balancing his dish on his lap. As he lifted his fork to take his first bite, Marlene stopped him.

"Put on 'Hollywood Squares.'"

Jimmy set his plate on the carpet, clambered to his feet and changed the channel. The picture wiggled and rolled, so Jimmy adjusted the antenna, although each time he thought he'd found the right spot, as soon as he'd lift his hand from the metal the problem would resume.

Marlene huffed. "Just hold the damn thing, Numb-Nuts."

Red-faced, Jimmy stood next to the television set holding the antenna while his wife, her lover and his mo-ther-in-law relaxed, ate lunch, and watched the gameshow. During a commercial, Jimmy was ordered to remove the plates and refill everyone's coffee cups. He hopped to obey, and was able to scarf down a few mouthfuls of cold stir-fry from his own dish before resuming his post at the TV.

Jimmy peeked at Nicole and Mike cuddled together on the couch, and the hum-iliation of the situation combined with the couple's incredible sexiness began to arouse the submissive little cuckold.

Unfortunately for Jimmy, Marlene noticed.

"Oh, my gawd, you've gotta be fucking kidding me — look at that little thing poking out." The old lady shook her head and lit a Salem. "What the hell are you thinking about, Numb-Nuts?"

"I ... um ... er ..."

"I think Pee-Wee likes ya, Ma!" Mike joked, causing Nicole to crack up and Marlene to curl her lip.

"Listen, even an old lady has standards." The matriarch pointed. "Turn around and face the wall, Nancy Boy — nobody wants to see that disgusting little thing."

With laughter burning his ears, Jimmy complied. Trying to look on the bright side, he noted that turning around at least allowed him to use his left hand to hold the antenna, giving his aching right shoulder a rest — although his mind quickly drifted downward to another throbbing body part.

Jimmy's submissive soul was stirred as he contemplated his ridiculously unfair situation:

... being treated like a peon ... not being allowed to enjoy a hot lunch ... having to hold the TV antenna as if he was a piece of furniture while his wife relaxed with her lover on the couch ... having to face the wall because his boner had betrayed him ... the mo-ther-in-law who despised him now fully aware that his job was to lick Nicole and Mike clean when they were finished fucking ... everyone in the room knowing that the subby hubby spent his Saturday mornings as Red's sex slave ...

It was all too much — Jimmy busted yet another nut without touching himself, something he'd never done in his life prior to embarking on his journey as Mike and Nicole's sex slave. He watched in horror as the wet spot spread along the crotch of his jeans. With a shudder, the wimp anticipated the new round of hum-iliation that was sure to come once the TV show was over and he'd turned around for everyone to see what he'd done to himself.

Sure enough, the thought of the coming debasement caused Jimmy's jimmy to swell again. The lil' guy stretched out to its full three-and-a-half inches, forming a lil' tent in its cum-stained denim prison as the lil' cuck stood there holding the antenna and listening to Eva Gabor and Vincent Price joke with the gameshow host on TV.

Every time I try to guess where this story is going, you introduce something new and unexpected.

Great writing!

Thank you! That makes me want to write more!

cwcobblestone

I hope you do.