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I wish I had known that from the beginning; maybe I would’ve done things differently. Last I heard, he’d bought her a new house. An even bigger one with a gate and acreage. No way for me to get in there now since the walls were too high. That was one of the last things I learned about them from her socials before I was shut out.
My new thing was hanging out near gold courses at country clubs. I knew that a lot of wealthy elderly men hung around those places, so each weekend, I’d drive around to the few within a couple of hours from my new town.
It only took six months for me to find the right one. I’d spent those months listening in on conversations after singling out a few. There was one in particular that I was very interested in. He was old, older than the others, well into his seventies.
I accidentally bumped into him one day and made him spill his drink all over me. He was sweet enough to offer to pay the cleaner’s bill, and we had to exchange numbers, of course. I played it easy, just like last time, not rushing, taking it slow, but not too slow now, because he was old as dirt.
He must’ve been an okay-looking guy in his heyday, but these days, the years were starting to show. I didn’t care, though; I was more interested in his deep pockets, and from the Forbes list, he had some very deep ones, indeed, even more than Justin.
After our first conversation, he invited me out for drinks. I went but didn’t let things go too far that first night. It was on the fourth night that I pretended to let him talk me into letting him take me home. His home was massive, gorgeous, and even better than the one I had picked out for Justin and me to live in.
The first time I gave him some, he babbled on about some bullshit, and I knew I had him. What was it he said again? “I feel like David in his last days when they brought in that young virgin to warm his bed, only unlike him, I can still use my dick.”
And use it he did. For an old man, he liked to fuck. I’d hit the jackpot and was giddy with excitement. Greg, that’s his name, spoiled me rotten and I loved every minute of it. I remembered some of the bags Callie used to carry, some of the designers she was fond of, and started buying the same, with his money, of course.
I almost shit myself the day he proposed and didn’t even ask for a prenup. Life had finally been fair to me, and I couldn’t be happier. Sure, I had to take a lover as the years went on. By then, he was only good for a fuck at least twice a month, and a girl has needs.
He shouldn’t mind since he got to have me as his wife, a beautiful young thing on his arm to show off to his old buddies. Their wives hated me because they were all old and outdated, scared shitless that more like me would turn up and steal their husbands.
I fucked them too, just for kicks, because I knew their wives hated me, and it gave me such a thrill to screw their men behind their backs. It also got me more gifts, and what more can a girl ask for. There was no wife or girlfriend to steal him away from, but he had one bitch of a daughter whom he hated because she was fat and ugly, and Greg liked beautiful things.
The two of them fought almost every day until I banned her from the house because she was screwing with my time with the gardener. Each time her name was mentioned, Greg would have a fit and forbade me to even mention her in his presence again, which was fine by me.
I made sure she knew each time her Daddy bought me something new and extravagant, and I knew it was eating her up with envy, the fat cow.
Since she was his only child, I knew that with her out of the picture, I stood to inherit it all and was counting down the days to his demise the first time he caught a cold. But that fucker held on.
Now, it’s been eighteen years, and my time has come finally. The funeral was just today, and now it’s time for the reading of the will. I already had plans for the money I was about to make and could feel my juices bubbling at the thought of the hot young man I was going to buy myself to make up for the years of letting that old bastard drool all over me.
EPILOGUE
Eighteen Years Later
* * *
“Will you marry me now?”
“Sure, why not?” My last baby had just gone off to college; the oldest just finished his master's, the second oldest her bachelor’s, and the third was in her last year of college. My life, these last eighteen years, has been one of bliss. I was now fifty-one years old, with the best years of my life behind me, so why not?
I still have life left in me yet sure, but I think it’s time I settled down and made an honest man out of him. For the past eighteen years, we’ve been practically joined at the hip anyway. We did everything together, both with ourselves and with our kids.
He was a better boyfriend than he ever was a husband, and that is why each time he proposed over the years, I turned him down. It got to be a game with us, where he would ask, knowing that I would say no. As we got older, he griped and grumbled more, but I was staunch in my refusal and had no problem reminding him that I’d given him a chance once, and he’d blown it to shit.
My favorite analogy to use was the time he fell while rock climbing and refused to ever do it again for fear of it happening once more. He seemed to get it then and wasn’t as pushy, though he still asked when the mood struck, which always seemed to be on our first wedding anniversary.
My only interest, I told him, was making sure my kids had a full life, that I did what was best for them, and that didn’t include upending their lives again the next time he got the itch to fuck some strange because he’d lost control of his dick. He hates being reminded of his affair, but that’s his problem. I’m not hurting my babies to please him.
They flourished just from having both their parents in their lives, happy and healthy, which is all I ever wanted. Justin hadn’t strayed in all this time, and for the better part of that eighteen years, he’d gone above and beyond to prove himself and make amends, even long after I had forgiven him. Maybe the fact that I never told him I forgave him had something to do with that.
It had gotten so that some days I forgot that we were no longer married; things between us were so easy, better even than the first ten years together because he knew he had to do the work or he could take his ass back where he came from, which is something I reminded him of in the beginning.
I never realized how much power that piece of paper really has over people. He was the same man with the same career and responsibilities, but as a boyfriend, he stepped up way more than he had when he was my husband.
Suddenly, he could find his ass home at a decent hour after work. He had time to spend with the kids now when he couldn’t be bothered before. Sometimes all I could do was shake my damn head and wonder at the ignorance of the world and the people in it. But as long as my babies were happy, I was too.
I got free dick, more even than when we were married, I got to keep my babysitter because he had no say in that and more free time for myself since I never went back to work. I spent my days as the kids grew up taking care of me and doing the things I liked, which made for a happier, healthier me.
I wasn’t mean to Justin any longer, not after the first couple of years, but neither did I let myself forge and give into going back to the way things were. We were equal partners when it came to raising our kids, but I was my own person with my own wants and likes, and if something didn’t agree with him, that was too bad. I got my way most of the time, though I tried to be fair and not go too far; after all, he was still human.
