"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join William Statler and Karla Statler in renewing their vows of holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be rejoined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

The purpose of an objection at a wedding is to assess the legal eligibility of a union (or the reaffirmation of said union), not the emotional eligibility. So unless someone objects with a reason that holds substantial legal merit, little more will happen than a fleeting pause in the ceremony and a significantly awkward moment.

In this case, the legal merit was presented when the beautiful blonde approached Karla, handed her an envelope, and said, "Karla Statler, you have been served. You are being sued for divorce on the grounds of adultery."

The blonde used a small camera to take a picture of the envelope in Karla's hand. She then smiled at me, took my hand, and escorted me back up the aisle and out to our cars.

~~~

Four months previous...

There were six candidates from the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Georgia interested in the summer intern position at WAGA-TV, but only one actual selection. A former colleague had seen her performance during her internship with Georgia Public Television and brought her to my attention.

Deborah Norville had come to my attention previously during one of my guest lectures at the UG campus in Athens. She had asked probing and insightful questions during my lecture and demonstrated a natural skill at keeping her eyes focused and intent on the person being asked. She had made it seem as if the answer to the question posed was the most interesting thing she was ever going to hear.

Deborah was the last of the six candidates to arrive at the Memorial Day barbeque at my house in the Buckhead area of Atlanta. I had invited them all so that the news director and several other people whose opinions I valued at WAGA could meet all six candidates in an informal setting. Besides the six students and a few coworkers, the rest of the attendees were all acquaintances of my wife Karla. Some of these were her coworkers from Georgia-Pacific, while others were neighbors of ours that I hardly knew.

As is probably normal in such settings, people tended to congregate with other people that they knew, which had the six students hanging around one side of the pool, while neighbors who knew each other chatted under the filtered shade offered by the pergola over the patio. Karla flitted between the group of neighbors and her coworkers on the other side of the pool, ignoring the students and my coworkers entirely. She had nothing in common with either group, so her philosophy was "Why try to pretend to be interested?".

It was still too early to get the grilling started, so I encouraged the people from WAGA to go introduce themselves to the intern candidates and explain what each of them did at the station. I saw that most were reluctant to wander too far away from me, each afraid that somebody else might get a chance to brown-nose the boss more than they wanted to, so I decided to lead them over to the students and introduce everyone myself.

Most of the students began asking technical questions about the station, but Deborah seemed unusually distracted by someone on the other side of the pool. As I stood off to the side, watching the interaction of my staff and the students, I sensed Deborah moving beside me.

"Excuse me, Mr. Statler, do you know who that woman is?"

"Which woman?" I asked.

"The tall brunette wearing the flowered blouse and white Capri pants," she said.

I glanced over at where Karla was standing and said, "Yes, I know who she is. Why?"

"Because I would like to give my aunt the name of the woman who is sleeping with her husband. She has pictures and a video of the two of them in a motel room, but the private investigator couldn't provide the woman's name."

"You're telling me that you recognize that woman over there as the woman in pictures that your aunt has of her husband being with, I assume in a sexual interlude of some sort?"

Deborah nodded and said, "I'm almost positive. She wears her hair the same way, parted in that crooked way just above her left eye. If I could get a glimpse at her right hip I would know for sure. In the pictures, she has an oval birthmark on her hip, but her blouse is just long enough today to cover that area."

"So you've never met this woman?" I asked.

"No, but I'm sure that is her."

"Well then, come on. I'll introduce you."

I led Deborah around the pool and approached the woman in question. She turned and smiled at our approach, moving the drink in her right hand to her left.

I made the introductions, "Deborah Norville, I would like to introduce my wife, Karla. Karla, this is Deborah Norville, one of the candidates for the summer intern position at WAGA-TV."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, Deborah. What are your ambitions; to be on the air or behind the scenes? Obviously, with your looks, you belong in front of the camera, but some people prefer not to be."

Deborah looked extremely embarrassed, and I sensed that it was due to her discovering that the scarlet letter she had just painted adorned the wife of the man who would determine her fate with WAGA-TV.

I took pity on her and answered on her behalf, "Interns get exposed to all aspects of the station, but we hope to eventually get Deborah on the air. After all, she was Georgia's representative in the 1976 America's Junior Miss pageant. We need to go meet some others from the station. Let me know when you want me to start the grill."

I quickly led Deborah away from where Karla was resuming her conversation. Deborah walked silently beside me as I headed toward the grill where we would have some privacy for a few minutes at least.

"Deborah, I know that I have no right to ask this, but could you put me in contact with your aunt?"

She looked up at me, still embarrassed, and asked, "You didn't know, did you?"

"I never had a clue," I admitted. "And, for the record, Karla does have that oval birthmark on her right hip."

"Wow!" she said. "I never expected this. I'm so embarrassed, but I'm also glad to know who the woman is. My aunt has been my rock during my mom's illness, and I feel obligated to stand beside her now. Do you know what you're going to do, because I know that my aunt intends to name the woman in an alienation of affection lawsuit in addition to suing my uncle for divorce on the grounds of adultery?"

"That's one of the reasons that I would like to get in contact with your aunt," I told her. "If we can coordinate our actions and get the timing of things right, I believe we could both benefit. I will definitely be investigating a divorce from Karla, and the evidence that your aunt has will be useful in that regard, but if your aunt is also seeking some form of revenge..."

"Revenge is at the forefront of her thoughts right now," Deborah said. "She hasn't let anyone but my mom and I know what she has learned about my uncle's affair, and is trying to act like everything is normal around him. Will you be able to do that?"

"I think so," I said. "I mean, when I introduced you to Karla I had just learned of her infidelity from you. How do you think I did under the circumstances?"

"I haven't had a lot of exposure to your behavior, but it seemed genuine and normal enough to me. How will you do when the two of you are alone?"

I shrugged and said, "I should be okay." Then I asked, "How long does your aunt suspect that the affair has been going on?"

"She knows that it has been going on for the last six months, but she suspects a lot longer. There is too much familiarity between the two cheaters. I've seen the video and heard them talking. There is definitely some history there."

She glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear our conversation and said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You believe that you can behave normally around your wife as you move through whatever you decide to do, but do you believe that you can behave normally where your work is concerned? Will any of this affect your opinions of me or my chance for the summer internship at WAGA-TV?"

I laughed and said, "Kiddo, this only strengthens my perceptions of you. You have demonstrated moral integrity that is rare in this day and age. You have earned my trust and respect here today, but the decision on the internship was made last Friday. Professor Stein will be notifying you tomorrow that you got the position."

Her eyes grew wide and I could tell that she was restraining herself from giving me a hug of appreciation, "Oh, thank you, Mr. Statler! I will do everything in my power to make you proud of me."

"You can start making me proud right now by not calling me by my father's name. Call me Will."

~~~

"You wanted to see me, Will?"

I glanced up from my desk and saw Deborah standing in the doorway to my office. My secretary must be away from her desk or she would have announced Deborah's arrival.

"Yes, please come in and close the door."

Although I owned WAGA-TV - well technically, the company that my family owned, Statler Multimedia, owned WAGA-TV - I didn't keep an office at the station. My office was in Statler Multimedia's region offices on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta. I represented the family company here as the vice president of acquisitions and development. I also kept an eye on our affiliate, WAGA-TV in Atlanta.

Deborah had been summoned to appear at my office on a day when she did not work so that she would have time to make the trip from her residence in Athens without impacting her internship. Knowing her as I did, I suspected that she had inquired with others at the station and found out that I seldom, if ever, had station employees come to my office. I would meet them at the station in one of the conference rooms. If she was concerned or worried about the purpose for my requesting this meeting after her having been an intern for less than a week, she hid it well.

I stood up and walked around the desk to shake her hand. I then guided her to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Once she had taken a seat, I sat in the other chair, directly beside her. She was wearing a button-up white blouse and dark blue slacks. Business casual at its finest.

"First, let me say how sorry I am to hear about your mother's passing. If there is anything that I or the Statler organization can do for you or your family, please let me know."

She nodded, but maintained her brave, professional persona, "Thank you. She is free of pain and at peace now."

"Your aunt tells me that you have something for me," I said.

Without answering, Deborah reached into her purse and pulled out a large manila envelope and handed it to me. I set it on my desk without opening it. Deborah's aunt had already described for me what the contents were.

Her aunt and I had spoken on the phone several times since Memorial Day, but we had not yet met face to face. Deborah had agreed to be the courier that would deliver me a copy of all the evidence that her aunt had detailing the affair between her husband and Karla. That delivery was only a secondary reason for me wanting to meet with Deborah in my office.

"Thank you," I said. "How are you getting along at the station so far?"

Deborah perked up and said, "I'm loving it! Everyone is both welcoming and encouraging. Brian was short a reporter last Saturday and asked me to cover a news story. I got to report on the six-o'clock news that night. He thinks that I might get offered a weekend reporting position after the summer."

I nodded and said, "I'm glad that you are fitting in so well, and I can assure you that if you keep making me as proud as you have, you will definitely get that offer. I do have one concern about you that we need to discuss, however."

Deborah took on a guarded expression and asked, "What is that?"

"Tell me about your housing accommodations, especially when you are working."

"I live in our sorority house in Athens," she began.

"But you don't stay there when you're working at the station in Atlanta, do you?"

She shook her head and stared at her hands as she said, "No, the drive is too far to make after I finish with the eleven o'clock news."

"So where do you stay?" I asked.

"Different places. I get by."

"Places like your car?" I asked, trying to not sound condescending or scolding.

"A couple of times," she admitted.

"No more," I told her, handing her a key. "This is a key to my house. There are plenty of spare bedrooms and it is only fifteen minutes from the station. You can follow me there when we leave here and pick out the room you want. Your future is reporting the news, not being the news as someone who got attacked while sleeping in their car in the wrong part of Atlanta."

"Do you think this is a good idea with what is about to transpire with your marriage? If your wife happens to mention me by name to my uncle and say that I am staying at your house, will they view it as strictly a coincidence?"

I laughed and said, "Your aunt and I thought of that and we believe that the two cheaters still have no clue that they have been discovered. I already spoke to Karla and she had no objections to you staying in one of our guest rooms. She thinks it would be good for me to have someone else in the house since she is going to be working so many late nights on some project and taking extended business trips for the next few months. All of which coincides with stories that your uncle has told your aunt about his upcoming schedule."

"So the days I work at WAGA, I could crash at your place rather than driving back to Athens? No one else will know, right?"

"I won't tell anybody," I told her. "What do you do in Athens when you're not working at WAGA?"

"When possible, I take extra courses, but scheduling required classes during the shorter summer session is difficult. I did better last summer than this year, but I should still be able to begin my senior year early, in September."

"You'll be graduating after only three years? Impressive. What is your grade point average?"

"I've been able to maintain a 4.0 average so far. I'm trying to keep it through graduation."

I nodded and said, "Well, the room you select won't be used by anyone else except you, so you are welcome to stay on days when you don't have classes and aren't working at WAGA so you're not making the commute to Athens any more often than necessary."

"That would make things easier," she said. "Would you mind if I cooked dinner for us when it's just the two of us there? I would also like to take care of the housekeeping or anything else that needed to be done as a form of payment."

"You can cook whatever you want," I told her, "but don't expect me to eat it. I am a very finicky eater and seldom deviate from things that I know that I like. The housekeeping is handled by a paid housekeeper, but if you know how to clean a pool, the pool service company we used just went belly-up. We haven't selected a new one yet, so you could take over that for the summer if you wanted."

"I can do that!" Deborah exclaimed. "I cleaned the community pool at our neighborhood in Dalton while in high school. As long as you have the chemicals and stuff, I can handle it."

"What we don't have, we can get. Are you ready to follow me to the house?" I stood and held out a hand to assist Deborah to stand.

"Following you might be difficult in the traffic," she said, "so if you lose me, don't worry. I remember how to get to your house"

"I'm glad to hear that, but I'll try not to lose you regardless."

Traffic was heavy, as was typical, but Deborah pulled into the driveway of my house right behind me. While I pulled my car into one of the garage bays, she parked in one of the paved concrete pull-outs along the edge of the drive. She stood beside her car, unsure of which entrance to the house that I would choose. I motioned for her to join me in the garage and escorted her through the mudroom into the kitchen.

"The house key I gave you will work on all the exterior doors. Let me show you the choice of bedrooms first, then I'll give you a full tour of the house."

"That sounds good," Deborah said. "I'm not in any hurry to jump into the rush-hour traffic."

I hadn't thought of that. All the commuters heading out of Atlanta towards the northern suburbs would have every route for her back to Athens congested for at least two, and probably three hours. "Feel free to hang out here as long as you want," I told her.

She followed me through the formal dining room and the family room that never hosted any family member, into a hallway that led towards the front of the house. "The master suite is on the backside of the house. You probably saw the French Doors across from the hot tub. Those lead into the bedroom from the outside."

"That must be convenient for romantic evenings in the hot tub," Deborah said before realizing her mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry, Will."

"No worries," I assured her as I opened the door to the first guest bedroom. "Learning of Karla's cheating not only killed any romantic aspirations I may have, they also tainted the memory of every romantic moment that we had ever shared. My emotions are pretty scabbed over right now, so don't be afraid of saying something that might hurt me."

Deborah patted my forearm and looked around the room. It held a queen-sized bed with a solid oak headboard, oak side tables, and a long oak dresser with a mirror above it. Entirely generic furnishings with no other accessories such as pictures on the walls or personal effects of any kind. Deborah walked to what she assumed was a closet and opened the door.

"It has about the same storage space as my room at the sorority house," she observed. "I do like the idea of having a queen-sized bed. Our sorority rooms all have two twin beds."

Her comment about a larger bed made me wonder about something. I asked her, "Do you have a boyfriend or anyone that you might want to spend the night with you here on occasion? If you do, I don't have any issue with it as long as you let me know. I wouldn't want to be surprised by a stranger in the house and end up shooting them or something."

Deborah shook her head and said, "No. I had a high school boyfriend up in Dalton, but once I moved to Athens for college, he couldn't deal with the distance and us only seeing each other during holidays and semester breaks. He moved on within months. Is there another room that you wanted to show me?"

I showed her two more guest rooms, both furnished similar to the first. She ended up choosing the one room that didn't have a window on the front of the house but had one looking out to the fenced side yard. This room did have a private bathroom, and it was also the only one of the three rooms that had a television currently in it, although I assured her that it could be moved to any of the others if she desired.

As she sat on the bed and bounced a few times, she said, "I appreciate you letting me stay here when I am in Atlanta. I promise that I won't be any bother for you or your wife."

I smiled and said, "It's my pleasure to have you. Come on, I'll show you the rest of the house."

The tour ended in the kitchen where Deborah took it upon herself to start examining the contents of the cabinets and drawers to familiarize herself with where specific dishes and utensils were kept.

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

She smiled at me and said, "You know that I'm not twenty-one for another month and a half, right?"

"I suppose that if I had considered your age I would have realized that, but I was more focused on you driving back to Athens tonight, so my offer was for a non-alcoholic beverage. Check out the refrigerator, there should be a selection of sodas in there. What do you like on your pizza? I can have one delivered for us so that you can eat something too before you head back."

Deborah laughed, selected a can of ginger ale out of the refrigerator, and said, "I'm a college student. We eat anything on a pizza crust."

When the pizza arrived and I had paid the driver, I asked, "Want to sit by the pool while we eat?"

"Don't you want to watch the six o'clock news?" Deborah asked as she followed me outside.

"No, I'll usually watch the eleven o'clock edition so I can catch the latest sports scores. The news is generally the same."

Sitting at one of the tables beside the pool, Deborah surveyed the backyard and asked, "Where do you keep the vacuum hose and stuff for cleaning the pool?"

I pointed to the pool house, which was basically just a couple of changing rooms, and said, "Around the back of that is a storage area for everything. There should be enough chemicals there for one or two treatments, so just let me know when something needs to be replenished."

She nodded and continued eating her pizza as she looked around. Her eyes landed on the French Doors leading to the master suite and said, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"You can ask, but I may not answer you."

"My aunt says that she keeps coming up with excuses not to have sex with my uncle since she discovered that he has been cheating on her. What about you?"

"I'm not having sex with your aunt or your uncle," I teased.

"Cute. Is that your way of not answering my personal question or just an attempt to lighten the mood?"

"Neither really, I just haven't verbalized anything related to Karla's cheating with anyone. I mean, obviously you and I have discussed some aspects of it, and your aunt and I have come to some agreements on how and when we want to proceed with things, but the rawness of her betrayal is still too fresh in many ways. However, to answer your very personal question, like your aunt, I keep making excuses not to be intimate in any way with Karla. So far, it hasn't been difficult because I sense that she is getting all that she needs from your uncle."

"Won't a lack of interest make her suspect that you know about her affair?"

"I doubt it," I said. "As long as I remain upbeat and acting normally in every other aspect of our relationship, she'll discount my lack of sexual interest as being work-related or something."

"Why do you think that they are doing it?" she asked. "I mean, I've known my Uncle Cecil was a lecherous pervert for years. When my mom and dad got divorced, we had to practically beat my uncle away from our house with sticks. Everyone felt that my aunt married way under her level when she married my uncle, and when I compare him to you, there is no way that any woman with functioning eyesight would choose him. Your wife is okay in the looks department, but my Aunt Claire is beautiful in every way. So, I guess my uncle and your wife are more suitable for each other than their current spouses, but is that why they're risking the affair? It doesn't make sense to me."

"None of this makes sense to me," I told her. "I thought that Karla and I were doing great. She didn't want kids, and I was left infertile when I contracted the mumps as a teenager so that always seemed to work in our favor. We don't need her income, so she works just to keep herself busy. I thought our sex life was satisfying for both of us, but her obvious skill as an actress now needs to be taken into account."

"Do you think that Karla married you for your money? You are part of a very well off family."

I shook my head and said, "She willingly signed a prenuptial agreement before we were married. She knows that infidelity leaves her with only five-thousand dollars for each year of our marriage if I divorce her."

"How long have you been married?"

"It will be ten years on October 6th. We were both twenty when we said our vows."

"Vows that she has now broken," Deborah said sadly. She then added, "Will, I hope you know how much I respect you, both personally and professionally. I also hope that you know that you can trust that no one will ever learn about your wife's betrayal from me. I can understand your reluctance to share your feelings about what you are going through, but since I am going to be around a bit during the summer, if I can do anything to help you through this, please ask."

"Thanks, Kiddo. I may take you up on that. When do you think that you will be staying here for the first time?"

"You're probably going to think I'm nuts, but I was considering staying here tonight. I'll need to run out to pick up a toothbrush and a few things, then I can drive to Athens in the morning against the traffic to pack up the stuff that I will want to keep her, like my suits and stuff."

I was surprisingly happy with her response. Deborah had unwittingly wormed her way into a very personal aspect of my life - my wife's infidelity - and had shown to be both understanding and supportive of my situation. I found myself welcoming her company.

"I think that makes sense," I told her. "Before you run out to buy anything, though, go check out the cabinet in your bathroom. I know that there are new toothbrushes in there, but also an assortment of other toiletries. Unless the fragrance of the deodorant is offensive to you, I think you might find everything you need, for one night least."

Deborah smiled and said, "I'm sure everything will be fine for me. Is there any chance that you might have something for me to sleep in? Maybe an old t-shirt?"

"Clean or dirty?" I teased.

Deborah surprised me by leaning closer to me and sniffing. "I could live with either," she said with a wink.

So began our pseudo-roommate relationship. Deborah always worked at WAGA-TV on the weekends, but frequently found assignments and reporting opportunities during the week that had her staying at my house in Buckhead almost every night of the week during the summer. Karla was seldom home during the week, claiming business trips to the carpet mills in Dalton made it more convenient for her to spend the nights there rather than drive back to Atlanta.

Deborah spent most of the weekends and any days that Karla was home either working or making herself scarce by hiding out in her bedroom. While I found myself having little difficulty acting normal on the few occasions when Karla and Deborah were in the house together, it was obvious to me that Deborah was fighting an urge to tear into Karla, both as revenge for her aunt, but also due to Karla's disrespect of me and our marriage.

One evening, when Karla was gone, Deborah asked, "Have you ever considered hiring a private investigator to get more evidence of Karla's cheating?"

I shook my head and said, "No, the pictures and video that your aunt shared with me will be more than adequate for proving adultery to the court."

"But I don't think my uncle is the only man she is having an affair with. Don't you want to know if there might be someone besides him?"

I glanced over the top of my sunglasses at Deborah, no longer distracted by the sight of her in the conservative one-piece bathing suits that she wore as we lounged outside by the pool.

"What makes you think that she is seeing someone besides your uncle?" I asked.

"Because her schedule of trips to Dalton hasn't changed in the last two weeks, and my uncle has been in Pennsylvania with my aunt that whole time."

"So that's why I haven't heard from Claire..." I said.

"They're dealing with some estate matter from one of my uncle's relatives," Deborah explained. "Apparently, the bequest was made to a third cousin and my uncle, so he is trying to challenge cousin's right to anything from the estate of this relative."

Many emotions within the human experience are incredibly powerful. Anger is one. Sadness is a thing that can overwhelm a person. Despair can drive a human being to take his or her own life. I thought that my anger over Karla's cheating had subsided, and now that I had developed a plan for revenge, it mostly had. I still had bouts of sadness over what I perceived as my failure as a husband and mate to the woman I had loved, but I have to tell you, the genuine adoration of a stunningly beautiful twenty-year-old woman can be quite the salve for a man's ego and self-esteem.

Having Deborah as a confidant also prevented me from ever feeling anything close to despair over the end of my marriage. I didn't ever envision the prospect of anything more than a fond friendship with Deborah, but her companionship gave me the hope of a brighter future with someone else. Deborah and I had found genuine contentment with each other, something that most people don't find until they have been married fifty or sixty years.

"Whether her liaisons are with one man or one-hundred, it makes no difference," I said. "My interest in what Karla does ended once I saw the proof that your Aunt Claire shared with me."

"I guess I can see that," Deborah said. "Do you have any plans for Saturday afternoon?"

"Karla said that she won't be home this weekend, so I'm open as far as I know. Why?"

"Because I am scheduled to do only the eleven o'clock news on Saturday and thought that I might try to catch a matinee. There is a new John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John movie showing that I hear is pretty good. I wanted to know if you would like to come with me."

"Is that the movie version of 'Grease'?" I asked. "I saw the play on Broadway and I would love to see how they adapted it to the big screen. Wait, isn't next Wednesday your birthday?"

"Yes, it is. It's sweet that you remembered."

"Then you're not working the eleven o'clock news Saturday night. All employees of WAGA-TV get their birthdays off, with pay. Since you're not scheduled to work on Wednesday, I'll give you Saturday off instead. We can still do the movie if you want, but I would like to take you out to dinner to celebrate your birthday afterward if you're available."

"You don't have to do that," Deborah said. "I would be just as happy to spend a quiet birthday here with you."

"No way!" I said. "A young lady only turns twenty-one once in her life, although she may claim to be twenty-one for several more years. We need to get you fed before getting you juiced."

"Why, Mr. Statler," she said, in a pretty good impersonation of a southern debutante's voice, "is it your intention to get little ole me inebriated so that you can have your way with me?"

"Your virtue is safe with me, I assure you."

"Well, darn. That doesn't sound like much of a celebration. What if I don't want my virtue protected?"

The corner of Deborah's mouth was turned up on the same side as her raised eyebrow. She was playing with her ponytail in that flirtatious way that women do as she studied my face.

She was five feet eight inches and one-hundred-twenty-five pounds of innocent sensuality, and she was showing me that she knew how to use it. I was silent as I considered how to respond.

Deborah asked, "Does my interest in expanding our relationship bother you?"

I shook my head and said, "Not only does your interest not bother me, but I am also flattered beyond words by it. Unfortunately, even if Karla's infidelity might have released me from my wedding vows, at least in spirit, I would still feel that my cheating would give her a 'get-out-of-jail-free' card, even if she never knew that she had it. I could not, in my own mind at least, hold the moral high ground when seeking a divorce on the grounds of adultery if I also cheated on her."

Deborah considered my word for several minutes before saying, "Actually, I would have been surprised with any other response from you. Can I tell you something though?"

"You know you can," I assured her.

"Yes, I do know, but I always want to give you the chance to decline. Will, I am not very experienced sexually. It hasn't really been a problem for me because my studies haven't allowed me time to be in that many relationships. My boyfriend in high school was the first guy that I had sex with, and there has only been one other; a guy that was a study partner of mine when my boyfriend told me that he was breaking up with me. It's not that I don't think about sex or anything, I just have learned to channel my physical desires into other pursuits. That is getting harder to do being around you as much as I am while living here. Let's face it, Will, you're a very good looking man, with a wonderfully athletic body, an amazing sense of humor, charm coming out your ears, and I have seen that something about me has aroused you from time to time."

"Kiddo, I would never try to pretend that you aren't someone that I would welcome into my bed under the right circumstances, but I will not cheat on the cheater who is still my wife."

"I understand, Will. Can you explain to me what constitutes cheating in your eyes?"

I thought for a few seconds and said, "I think that willingly giving a part of yourself, or sharing an intimacy that should be exclusively bestowed upon your spouse is cheating. It doesn't even have to involve a sexual act. It could something as seemingly innocent as sharing a secret with someone that you keep from your spouse."

"Hmmm," Deborah said, "that doesn't leave much."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I was hoping to find some things that you and I could share that you wouldn't feel should be reserved only for Karla. Spending time with you, getting to know you, and learning to care about you makes me want to do more with you. I know the situation that you are in with your marriage places limits on us, but I was hoping that it wouldn't restrict us entirely from getting closer in some way."

"I'm sure we could find things," I told her, "but then would we want to stop there. For example, I have no qualms about us hugging each other, but I know that feeling you in my arms will instantly open up greater desires for me..."

"It would for me too," she said, "but that doesn't mean that we would act upon those desires. Can we try that? Will you hold me in your arms?"

I smiled and said, "I'll tell you what, let's wait until Saturday. After I take you to dinner for your birthday, we'll find someplace to go dancing. Slow dancing. What do you think?"

"I love that idea. I know that you will feel more confident in resisting desires if we are in a public place. I would like to offer a suggestion for something that is sort of intimate, but I think you will find is not exclusively for you and Karla."

"What's that?" I asked.

Deborah jumped up and took my hand. Standing to join her, she led us back into the house towards her bedroom. Upon entering the room, she pushed me to sit on her bed and said, "Wait here a second."

She went into her bathroom and closed the door behind herself. In less than a minute, she reopened the door wearing a short robe. She had removed her bathing suit and released her hair from the ponytail.

"Come on in," she said.

I stood and followed her into the bathroom. She took a seat on the small chair in front of the vanity facing the mirror as I moved to stand beside her. Glancing up at my reflection in the mirror, she handed me a hairbrush.

"Will, please brush out my hair for me."

Now, this was something that I had never done with Karla, not that I wouldn't have if she had asked. I reasoned that while a man brushing a woman's hair could be considered an intimate act, there were situations where it wouldn't be, such as a male hairdresser tending to a customer, or an adult brushing a younger girl's hair before she went to bed. Deborah was almost ten years younger than me, so I latched onto the last scenario and began to gently brush her shoulder-length blonde hair.

I kept my eyes focused mostly on the placement of the brush on Deborah's head, but I would occasionally glance up to meet her eyes in the mirror. She had a joyous expression on her face with a smile that tugged at my heart.

"I've never brushed anyone's hair before, so let me know if I am not doing it correctly," I told her.

"I've never had my hair brushed by anyone before, other than a hairdresser or my mom when I was younger, but if I knew how it would make me feel, I would have sought to do it long ago. No, I can't say that, because I know in my heart that is because it is you doing it that it feels so amazing to me. I doubt that anyone I have known could make this experience as wonderful as you are, Will."

"How does it make you feel?" I asked.

Deborah thought for a moment and said, "I feel several things. I feel cherished, adored, pampered, and safe. I also feel desirable and sensuous under your touch. Those are the emotional feelings. Physically, I am feeling a tingling in certain parts of my body, flushed in other parts, and overall, more aroused than I have ever been in my life. You're making me one horny young woman, Will Statler. How does that make you feel?"

I continued brushing her hair as I said, "For the most part, it makes me feel guilty. I know what it's like to be frustrated by unfulfilled desires, which is why I mentioned my concerns about how one act could lead us to want more. It looks like brushing your hair is like that for you, and I am sorry to have contributed to your frustration."

Deborah reached back and put her hand on mine that was holding the brush, "Please don't feel guilty. This is what I wanted and I will deal with things without compromising your integrity or morals where your marriage is concerned. She smiled up at my reflection, released my hand, and said, "Look where your hand is on the brush."

I glanced down at the slender handle of the hairbrush encased within my hand. I opened my hand and studied the hard plastic surface.

"Your hand has warmed it up for me," Deborah said. "I won't forget that fact when I use it later."

~~~

"It sounds like you and Aunt Claire have things synchronized almost to the minute," Deborah said as she kneaded the lotion into my lower back muscles.

I had agreed to let her give me a massage every time that I brushed her hair. These were intimacies that I accepted as ones that friends could share without crossing the realm of infidelity. Deborah had suggested a few other things for us to try, such as me letting her shave my face, or for me to remove and reapply nail polish on her fingers, but so far, we hadn't tried anything else.

"We thought it best to spring the trap on both rats at the same time," I said, enjoying the warming of my upper thighs that always accompanied the growing arousal that Deborah experienced when her panty-clad pussy rested on top of me. Soon, I would feel the dampness on the fabric just before she would shift her body off of mine.

"Do I need to show a receipt for the surety bond when I take the exam?" she asked.

Deborah has asked if she could be the person who served the divorce papers on Karla. We had researched the requirements for process servers in Georgia and learned that they included taking a twelve-hour class, passing an exam as well as a background check, and obtaining a surety bond. She was scheduled to take the exam the next day, and everything else was completed.

"The surety bond was filed with the Court by the insurance company that issued it," I assured her. "You just need to pass the exam tomorrow and everything will be in place. You might even be able to pick up a few assignments from other lawyers before our big day comes."

"I'm only interested in serving Karla," Deborah said as she finished the massage and lay on the bed beside me. "I wouldn't mind being the one to serve Uncle Cecil, but I couldn't do both at the same time, which is what you guys have planned. Choosing between the two, I pick yours."

I rolled onto my side facing away from her and asked, "Why is it so important to you?"

She snuggled up against my back and spooned against me. We had learned that this was a safe way for us to establish a physical closeness without either of us having to resist too much temptation.

Deborah placed a light kiss in the middle of my back and said, "Because I want to help you bring closure to a disappointing chapter in your life. I also hope that serving Karla with the divorce papers will finally release you from your vows. I know that you'll technically be married until ninety days after the settlement is approved by the Court, but your fear of providing her with a 'get-out-of-jail-free' card as you put it ends once she gets served. For all intents and purposes, your marriage will end once I serve her the divorce papers. Do you agree?"

I considered what Deborah had said, and also what she was asking me. I knew that she was frustrated with my reluctance to share greater intimacies with her. I was extremely fond of her, but my concerns now moved to what our relationship may develop into if I was completely unencumbered by my wedding vows. I valued her friendship too much to risk it over mere sex, regardless of how spectacular I imagined it would be with her. The question that I couldn't answer was "Would it be a risk?" So far, all the small intimacies that Deborah and I had shared had brought us closer. We communicated more openly and expressed more of our feelings when we could share more physical contact during the process.

Finally, I said, "My marriage was over in my mind once I learned of Karla's infidelity, so I guess I can agree that serving her with the divorce papers moves the finality of things one step closer. I don't know if I agree that my commitment to the wedding vows will end at that time. I'll need to give it some thought to see if I can wrap my head around it. We also need to revisit our arrangement with you living here once Karla is served. She will be banned from returning here except in the accompaniment of a Sheriff's deputy to allow her to get her personal items. Even though she was seldom here this summer, this was still technically her home, so you and I weren't technically the only ones living here."

Deborah ran her fingers through my hair and said, "The fall semester starts right after Labor Day, so I won't be here except on the weekends when I am working at WAGA-TV. No one at the station or at school knows that I have been staying with you, and I don't see that changing, so unless you are concerned about your reputation among your neighbors, or want to start bringing new women over and think that my being here would raise issues there, I don't see any problem."

"You're welcome here any time," I told her. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to experience a man for once. I told you that I haven't had a lot of experience, but that which I have had hasn't been satisfying to me the way that I believe things should be between a man and a woman. Even the simple little things that you and I have shared so far have been so much better than anything I have ever had with my ex-boyfriend or anyone else. Admittedly, the guys I have been with had to cope with my inexperience as well, so maybe what I need - no, I know that what I need is for me to share some experiences with someone older and more mature. Someone I can trust and be relaxed around. Someone who will safely guide me through a journey of discovery. No one meets my definition of what I want and need better than you. I want to experience you, Will."

"Kiddo, you know that I am not likely going to be ready to explore a new relationship for months, or maybe years..."

"That's why we are so perfect for each other," Deborah exclaimed. "We already have this wonderful, trusting, and slightly intimate physical relationship. All we'll be doing is getting more physical. Our friendship can easily survive that, and it will probably do you some emotional good as well. There are going to be dozens, if not hundreds of women coming after you once word of your divorce gets out. Our relationship will provide you with a safe haven that will allow you to take your time with choosing when and who you want to date. Look, all I'm asking is that you think about it. I've told you what I want, but if you decide that us making love isn't something that you can handle, I'll accept it."

"Okay, I promise that I will consider it. I just don't want you to ever think that I don't find you attractive, sensuous, alluring, and the most tempting morsel of feminine flesh and bones that I have ever encountered. If I decide that I can't be what you want me to be, please know that it is no reflection on you. It will be totally my fucked-up head."

She hugged my tighter and said, "See, knowing that you will do what is right for both of us is what gives me the confidence that I need too. You and I will be just fine no matter what happens once the cheaters are served."

~~~

And we were.

My efforts to keep Karla in the dark about me being aware of her affair were aided by the fact that she spent so much time in Dalton carrying on her tryst, but also by my suggestion that she and I renew our wedding vows on our tenth anniversary. What husband who suspected that his wife was cheating on him would suggest and plan such a romantic gesture?

Each day when we would speak on the phone, I would provide Karla with an update on the planning, which invited guests had RSVP'd and which ones had declined. She had provided me with a list of guests that she wanted to invite. When I saw the name, Cecil Clark on her list, I debated about whether to send her lover an invitation, then decided that if I didn't, it would look suspicious. I knew that he wouldn't be able to attend because Claire had already made plans for him that day. I didn't invite anyone for my side of the aisle but told Karla that everyone had declined due to previous commitments.

I made all the arrangements, knowing how "busy" she was, including reserving the same lakeside venue where we had been married, and using the same wedding planner so that all the flowers and decorations would be identical to the first time. I even told Karla that I had already purchased tickets for the two of us to go on a romantic cruise for our second honeymoon. Karla was growing more excited as the day grew nearer, which I suspect was due to her and her lover believing that they were pulling one over on the dumb, clueless husband.

Deborah's Aunt Claire had her own ambush of sorts planned. While Karla and I would be scheduled to renew our vows, her philandering husband was scheduled to play in a charity golf tournament that she had signed him up for. He would be part of a foursome that included two of his best customers and a state senator, so he couldn't refuse. The divorce papers would be served on him on the tee for the fifth hole, symbolizing the five years that he and Claire had been married. Claire would be on a plane to her parent's house in Wisconsin, where she planned to remain until the divorce was final.

With the start of the fall semester, Deborah returned to Athens for her senior year. Without any influence from me, she was offered the weekend news position at WAGA-TV and continued to spend her workday evenings at my house. Karla was making it a point to be home every weekend, which I saw was making Deborah tense and distant. Karla kept trying to start conversations whenever she and Deborah were in the same room, but Deborah always found some polite way to excuse herself.

Excusing myself where sex with my wife was concerned was getting more challenging. Even when I begged off making love to her due to a sore back or another feigned injury, Karla would still insist on giving me a blowjob and expect me to reciprocate by going down on her. On those occasions, I would finger her to multiple orgasms, but there was no way that my mouth was ever going near her cheating pussy again.

The night before the big day, I played up the charade further by insisting that I sleep in one of the other guest bedrooms and leaving the house before Karla awoke to ensure that I didn't see the Bride on the wedding day prior to the ceremony. Deborah and I left the house together, both anxious and excited about how things would unfold, both for us and for Claire.

I had an assortment of the pictures that Claire had received from her private investigator printed out as four by six prints and placed them in the pocket of my tuxedo. After Deborah had presented the divorce papers to Karla, I would drop these along the aisle as Deborah and I left a stunned audience and a shocked Karla watching us depart.

Deborah was assigned to work that evening, so when we left the ceremony, we each drove to the station in our own cars. I stopped along the way at the locksmith shop where new keys for the locks that had been replaced earlier in the day and new garage remotes were provided to me. Once at the station, I filled the security team in on the events of the afternoon, with instructions to call the police to have the restraining order preventing Karla from entering any Statler Multimedia property enforced if necessary. I located Deborah in one of the editing rooms and slipped her a new key to the house and one of the remotes, although neither of us would be staying there in the immediate future.

I left the station and drove to my office in downtown Atlanta. I gave the building security team the same instructions regarding Karla and then headed to my office. I assumed that the answering machine at the house would be accumulating calls from Karla, her parents, and maybe even a neighbor or two, none of which interested me. There was one message I was looking forward to, but that should be on my office voicemail. I had to delete three irate messages from Karla before I heard the one that I was expecting. Claire had called from the airport to let me know that Cecil had been served and that she was on her way to Wisconsin in a few minutes. She left the number for her parent's house and asked me to call her later that evening to fill her in on how my event went.

Claire and I still had not met, but our conversations over the past several months had allowed us to become well acquainted. We had shared a betrayal and formulated our responses together. Now that our revenge was complete and the process now in the hands of the lawyers, I wondered if there was anything left in common between myself and Claire, or if our relationship would end along with both of our marriages.

I left my car in the parking garage for the building and grabbed a cab on Peachtree Street. Georgia Tech was playing Miami of Florida at Grant Field, so I figured that would be a good way to kill a few hours with some mindless entertainment. Having gone to Harvard myself, I wasn't a fan of either school, but I have always liked the atmosphere of a college football game.

After the game, I followed the crowd over to The Varsity and waited in the typically long line to order one of their famous chili dogs. I hadn't had much of an appetite all day, so the chili dog and an order of fries would be more than enough. When I was done, the crowd at the stadium had dissipated enough that I had no problem getting another cab to take me to the Georgian Terrace Hotel. My company had several standing reservations at upscale hotels in Atlanta, but Karla knew most of those since we had frequently made use of them on our 'date nights'. I doubt that she would even know that the historic Georgian Terrace hotel existed.

I was checked in, relaxed, and reading the last few chapters of the Sidney Sheldon novel, 'Bloodline' by eight o'clock. The premise in the fictional story was interesting to me since it dealt with a family company, but thankfully, mine wasn't anywhere near as cut-throat as Sheldon portrayed the Roffe's to be. At least not yet.

I called Claire to make sure that she had arrived at her destination and to fill her in on my revenge on Karla. She was pleased that everything went as planned, but I could sense a hint of melancholy in her tone. We promised to stay in touch during the court proceedings and to be as supportive of each other as we had been up till then.

Watching Deborah on the eleven o'clock news brightened my mood. If the camera ever loved a woman's face, it was Deborah's. I doubt that a cameraperson could find a bad angle where she was concerned. She radiated sincerity, honesty, compassion, and innocence with her facial expressions and soothing tone. I had watched her deliver the news almost every time she worked, but it was in that instant when I realized that she was going to go so much farther than a weekend anchor spot in Atlanta.

A few minutes after midnight, wearing only the hotel-provided terrycloth robe, I answered the knock on the door. Deborah melted into my arms, and I could feel the exhaustion in her body. It had been a long day for both of us, but she was the one who had been running non-stop, first to serve the divorce papers on Karla, and then to prepare her stories for the news broadcasts. I took her small bag and led her into the suite.

"Have you made a decision?" she asked.

I sat her on the sofa, took off her shoes, and began massaging her feet. I said, "Yes, I have decided that we are going to sleep together tonight - the operative word being 'sleep'. Once we're both rested and thinking clearly, we'll see where the morning leads us. Do you want anything to eat or drink before we turn in?"

"No thanks," she said. "Explain to me how this sleeping together tonight is going to go. What are the rules?"

I chuckled and said, "I don't have any rules, but if you want to institute some, tell me what they are."

"You mean that we can snuggle and cuddle any way that we want to? I won't be facing your back all night?"

"You can sleep on top of me if that's what you want," I assured her.

She had perked up considerably as she began unbuttoning her blouse. She pulled her feet from my hands and stood, "Mr. Statler, prepare to be the world's most loved Teddy Bear."

She was wearing just her bra and panties by the time she entered the bedroom. I was following along behind, trying not to laugh at her exuberance as I picked up her discarded shoes, blouse, and pants. I had her overnight bag in my other hand, which I placed on the bed for her. She stood there, contemplating the bag for a few seconds before she approached me. Staring into my eyes, she reached out and untied the knot holding my robe closed. Parting the front of the robe, she let her eyes drift down my body, examining me for a hint of what she might need to select as sleepwear.

The smile that appeared on her face was like that of a child on Christmas morning. She stepped back, went to her bag, and removed only her toothbrush. "Go ahead and get comfortable. I'll be right back."

She moved her bag to the top of the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom. I turned down the bed, removed my watch, and placed it on the nightstand on the side of the bed farthest from the bathroom. The robe was draped over the chair and I was under the covers by the time that Deborah reappeared.

She wasn't shy about being naked as I watched her approach the bed, but her excitement had her running towards me so fast that I had little opportunity to appreciate her naked beauty before she was under the covers and cuddling up next to me. The instant that I felt the full effect of her total nakedness against mine, you could have struck me blind and I would have still been able to describe her beauty simply by the way it made me feel. She was so soft, yet firm and muscular. I couldn't resist the urge to pull her body on top of mine, with her adoring face smiling down at me.

"I love you, Will," she whispered. "I'm not in love with you, but I will always love everything about you."

"Ditto, Kiddo," I told her. "You have made my life worth living these past few months, and I am forever in your debt."

"No, we have helped each other," she said as she touched the tip of her nose to mine. "No one owes anyone anything. I know you said that we would see where things lead us in the morning, and I'm okay with that, but can I at least get a goodnight kiss from you?"

I placed a hand on the back of her head and brought her lips down to mine. Deborah was tentative, so I gently sucked on her upper lip, followed by her lower before prodding her to open her mouth enough to accept my exploring tongue. When my tongue found hers, it's as if a switch had been thrown. Her whole body became involved in the kiss, with her hands caressing every part on my body that they could reach with her on top of me. Her lower body slid slightly to the left, which positioned her right leg between mine. She bent her leg until her thigh was sandwiched tightly in my groin and began using that part of her body to feel the warmth and arousal that was growing between my legs at the same time that she gyrated her pussy against my right leg.

I finally broke the kiss and whispered up to her, "Goodnight, Kiddo."

"Hoooleey Cow!" she gasped. "I have never been kissed like that. Wow!"

I chuckled and said, "It takes two. You taste so good, I didn't want to stop."

"Well, Will, it is past midnight, so technically, it is morning," she reasoned.

After experiencing how simply kissing her had affected me, I couldn't argue with that logic. "And, we can always sleep in," I said.

The first time was all about Deborah. I explored every inch of her body with my lips and tongue, from nibbling on her earlobes to sucking on each of her toes. She had two orgasms, one for each time that I first took one of her nipples between my teeth and gently bit down on it. By the time I stroked her clit with my tongue she was hotter than any woman I had ever been with. God, but did she taste good. It was the taste of purity and innocence, and when she came for the first time from oral sex, she started crying tears of joy.

"I never knew," she kept panting until the squeal of her next orgasm drove the words from her mouth. Once aroused, Deborah's stimulation kept her constantly on the verge of her next orgasm, then the next, and the next. Somewhere around one-thirty in the morning, her body was spent. As soon as I stopped stimulating her, she was fast asleep. I went into the bathroom to wash my face before crawling into bed beside her and pulling her into my arms. I was asleep before I closed my eyes.

I woke to an angel purring contently in my arms. Being careful not to disturb her sleep, I gently freed my arm from underneath Deborah and moved her leg off my body so that I could slide out of the bed. I took care of business in the bathroom before retrieving the robe, walking into the sitting area of the suite, and closing the bedroom door behind me. I called down and ordered coffee from room service, but held off on ordering any food until Deborah could tell me what she would like to eat for breakfast.

I used the room phone to call my home number, then entered the code to have the answering machine play back any messages. The only one of interest was one from my attorney informing me that Karla had been arrested for breaking into the house yesterday afternoon. The police had arranged for a board-up service to place plywood over the broken window, so the house was once again secure. My attorney informed me that one Cecil Clark had posted bail for Karla, so she was out of jail pending trial for violating the restraining order and for breaking and entering. He also recommended that I pack up all of Karla's personal belongings and see about sending them to her parent's home or similar place so that she had no excuse for visiting the house, even with a sheriff's escort.

"What about the excuse of harassing me?" I said to the recorded message, knowing that it fell on mechanically deaf ears. I would give some thought to the recommendation, though.

When the room service order arrived, I quietly took the coffee service into the bedroom and set it on top of the dresser. I took off the robe and laid it on the chair before pouring myself a cup of coffee and setting it on the nightstand on my side of the bed. I propped pillows against the headboard before crawling back under the covers and gently positioning Deborah back against me. I had finished the coffee and was relaxing in a semi-awake state when I took notice of Deborah's shifting body.

It took her a few seconds to figure out where she was and whose chest her head was resting on. I almost laughed when she sniffed my chest and I felt a smile appear on her face. "It wasn't a dream," she whispered.

"Good morning, Kiddo. Would you like some coffee?"

She kissed my nipple and said, "Potty first, then coffee."

She moved much slower going to the bathroom than she coming out of it, and I got the chance to appreciate her naked body, at least from behind. God, but did she have a world-class ass. I got out of bed and pour her a cup of coffee and refilled mine. I was back in bed and an attentive audience when she came out of the bathroom. The smile on her face drew my eyes, so I had only a peripheral appreciation for her perky, 35C breasts and fluffy pubic region as she walked back to the bed and rejoined me.

"What time is it?" she asked before tasting her coffee.

I checked my watch and said, "Just after nine-thirty. Are you hungry?"

"Famished. I didn't eat anything yesterday besides that bagel that you bought me. Can we eat here though? I have another appetite this morning, and I'm sure that you know what it is."

I smiled and passed her the binder with the room service menu, "Tell me what you want and I'll order for us. Then we can work on satisfying all of your appetites."

She took the binder and set it on the bed beside her, then said, "Will, I'm not complaining in the least, because what you did to me last night absolutely rocked my world, but don't you have any appetite of your own that you would like to satisfy? I don't want our relationship to be just about me and what I want. Please teach me how to please you too."

"I'm so sorry, Kiddo. I had hoped that you would have realized how much pleasure I got from ravaging your body last night. You are a feast for me, and I doubt that I will ever get my fill of you. The way that you feel, the way that you smell, but mostly the way that you taste - everywhere, is etched into my consciousness. No one has ever affected me the way that you did. I get the sense that your previous sexual encounters have been focused entirely on the guy's pleasure, and with guys who didn't realize the full extent of the pleasure your body could give them. Am I right?"

"I don't know how to answer that," she said. "The two guys before you did some of the things that you did, but nowhere near as well, and they rushed through things as if they weren't important. It wasn't always, 'Wham-Bam-thank you Ma'am', but it was pretty close. I never had an orgasm with either of them, and I have never had any orgasm that compared to what I had with you."

"Did I do anything to you that you didn't find enjoyable?" I asked.

She snuggled against me and said, "Besides stopping? I didn't enjoy you stopping, but I realized that you were losing me to exhaustion, so I can't blame you for that."

"Okay, quit stalling and chose what you want to eat," I teased. "We'll continue this conversation while waiting for breakfast to be delivered."

"What are you going to have?" Deborah asked.

"I was thinking of the blueberry pancakes with some bacon."

She nodded and said, "If you can get the pancakes with powdered sugar instead of syrup, I'd like those too."

"I'm sure that won't be any problem, and it actually sounds good to me too. Do you want bacon or sausage?"

"Just the pancakes, please. No, make it with bacon too." Then she thought for a second and asked, "Will we have time to shower together before the food comes? I can't believe that you didn't gag last night. I feel so grungy."

"If taking a shower presents a risk of washing off the taste of you that I experienced last night, I wouldn't want to do it, but for you, I'll take the chance. Why don't you go and get the shower ready while I call down our order? By the way, there is another robe on the back of the bathroom door for you."

Deborah leaned up and gave me a quick peck on the lips before getting out of bed. As she walked to the bathroom, she wiggled her amazing ass at me and said, "Don't dawdle."

I made quick work of getting our breakfast order placed and was told to expect the food to be delivered within twenty minutes. Deborah had her hair under the hotel-provided shower cap and was testing the temperature of the water in the shower when I joined her.

"Are you all set?" she asked.

"I am," I told her. "We only have a few minutes because breakfast should be here at any time, so no hanky-panky, Kiddo."

She stepped into the shower and said, "Then hurry up and get in here."

I stepped in behind her and she immediately threw her arms around my shoulders and positioned us so that the front of both of our bodies were under the water. "You wash my back and I'll wash yours," she whispered, and the said, "I'll start. Turn around."

I did as instructed and felt her hand running the bar of soap all around my back before using her other hand to help spread the suds and build up more of a lather. She started at the top of my shoulders and quickly worked her way down to my waist.

"You have the cutest and fuzziest bottom I have ever seen," she observed as she began soaping my ass cheeks. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised because of the amount of hair on your chest and legs."

As she reached the bottom of my ass, her right hand moved quickly between my legs and began soaping up my balls. That was followed by the sound of the soap bar falling to the floor and her left hand reaching around me to begin stroking my cock.

"You are bigger than anything I have experienced before. Longer and bigger around, and you're not totally hard yet. You're certainly bigger than the handle of my hairbrush," she blushed.

I moaned at her touch and said, "We don't have time for hanky-panky, Kiddo. Remember?"

She turned me around, keeping her left hand on my cock and gently stroking the growing erection. "I know, but you have no idea how long I have waited to touch you like this."

She dropped her hand and turned away from me, "Go ahead and do my back. I'll restrain myself for a few more minutes."

I bent down and picked up the bar of soap and quickly lathered up Deborah's back. Then I pulled her wet, soapy body back against me allowing my still stiffening cock to become wedged in the crack of her ass. She gasped at the feel but wiggled back against it. She gasped a second time as my soapy hands reached around and found her breasts.

"Give me that goddam soap," she demanded stepping out of my semi-embrace. "I need to finish and get out of here before I rape you."

I laughed and handed her the bar of soap. Enough lather from her back had been transferred to my chest that I had plenty to finish washing myself, including my face. I stood aside and let her finish washing and rinsing so that she could step out of the shower while I rinsed. I had dried and just finished retrieving my robe when room service knocked on the door.

"You get the food on the table," she said, "then I'll come out. I'm not going to wear the robe while we eat, and I would appreciate it if you didn't either."

Deborah was getting comfortable with giving orders and making requests, but so far, everything had worked to my benefit, so it was easy to go along to get along. I signed for the food after the room service waiter had set everything up for us on the small table in the dining room, and then walked back into the bedroom to deposit my robe, grab the coffee, and let Deborah know that breakfast was served.

The coffee was still warm enough in the thermos-style urn, so I asked, "Would you like some more coffee with breakfast or just water?"

Deborah had stayed in the bathroom while the food was being delivered and I could see that she had spent the time brushing out her hair. Even without make-up, her face seemed perpetually ready for the camera, and as she took a seat at the table across from me, I thought once more that she was destined for so much more than Atlanta could offer her.

"Both, I think," she said. "Um, these pancakes look tasty."

I nodded, handed her a cup of coffee to go with the glass of water already in front of her plate, and said, "Almost as tasty as you look."

I couldn't see much of her below the middle of her stomach due to the table, but what I could see made my mouth water. Her breasts were full C-cups, with areolas only slightly darker than her untanned skin. Her nipples were little pencil eraser sized tidbits, which I knew from our experience of last night, were extremely sensitive and became amazingly erect when Deborah was aroused, just as they indicated to me at that moment.

Deborah stared directly into my eyes as she picked up a piece of bacon and took the most sensuous bite of food that I had ever witnessed. She said, "Back to our conversation from earlier, what can I do to give you as much pleasure as you gave me last night?"

I attacked my pancakes first, taking a bite and chewing it while I contemplated my response. After swallowing, I said, "I'm curious about what makes you believe that you haven't given me as much pleasure."

She looked confused, and asked, "Did I sleep through your orgasm?"

"I thought so," I said. "You equate sexual satisfaction with achieving an orgasm. That's just a physical response to stimulation. You have implied that until last night, you had never had an orgasm while having sex. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, but..."

"And what we did last night was just oral sex," I said. "You've never done that before either, I assume."

"Nobody has ever had their mouth... down there before last night," she admitted.

"Have you ever had your mouth on a guy, you know, given a blowjob?"

"I had never even touched a penis until a little while ago in the shower. The guys I have been with just stuck pretty much with getting it inside me as fast as they could. I really meant it when I told you that I didn't have much experience. That's why I'm hoping that you will be patient with me and guide me along."

I nodded and asked, "Do you remember that first night that you spent at my house? You asked to borrow a t-shirt to sleep in and I teasingly asked whether you wanted a clean or dirty one. Do you remember?"

She looked confused for a second and then nodded and said, "Vaguely."

"When I asked you that, you leaned in and sniffed me. Why did you do that?"

She pondered the question before answering, "I guess because I was curious how a dirty shirt of yours would smell. I can't tell you why I have wanted to get to know you better, but I have made no secret of the fact either. I have enjoyed seeing you dressed professionally, casually, and in various stages of undress. I have enjoyed listening to your voice, whether you're scolding someone, speaking calmly, or whispering in my ear, although I can do without ever hearing sadness in your voice ever again. You know how much I enjoy your touch by me pestering you for the last few months for us to touch each other more. Of the five senses, I think that taste and smell are probably the most intimate that two people can share, so maybe sniffing you was a subconscious attempt by me to achieve some greater intimacy with you all those months ago. I don't know, what do you think?"

"I think you're probably right," I said. "What we did last night was almost exclusively smelling and tasting on my part, and it was the most enjoyable time I have ever had with another person. Your body is capable of providing a man pleasure on so many levels and in so many ways, that you should never question whether or not you have pleased anyone. If a man can't find pleasure in you, he wouldn't be worth your trouble."

"Fine, but I don't want to be just some object of a man's pleasure. I want to be an active participant when I make love with someone. I want to learn how to derive pleasure from a man's body as much as you say that he can derive from mine. Do you understand?"

I nodded, finished the last of my pancakes, and said, "I do understand, and the best advice that I can give you is to be true to yourself and your partner. People are different. While I am into basically pedestrian sex without any weird fetishes or anything, you may someday encounter a man who wants to try something more provocative, such as bondage or multiple partners. Feel free to experiment, but only to the degree that you feel comfortable with things."

"Arrrggg!" Deborah said in obvious frustration, "That's what I have wanted to do with you since I started staying at your house. You're the one that I feel comfortable enough with to experiment, even if it is just 'pedestrian' sex as you call it. I would walk with you down the road that you took me last night any time, and now is as good a time as any. I think we should stop talking about it and get back into the bed."

I laughed and said, "Finish your breakfast first."

Deborah shoved the last two bites of her pancakes into her mouth in a very unladylike fashion while standing. I met her at the doorway to the bedroom and had to stop laughing before I could lick the sprinkles of powdered sugar from her beautiful breasts. (If you've never tasted powdered sugar on the breasts of an innocent and nubile twenty-one-year-old angel, I strongly suggest that you add it to your bucket list.)

Deborah had her hands entwined in my hair as my mouth cleaned the remnants of powdered sugar off of her breasts, lingering longer than was necessary on her nipples. Tightening her grip on my hair, she pulled my head up and directed my lips to hers. She attacked me with a kiss that bespoke her growing passion. I led her in a side-step dance to the bed while we kissed.

When she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her legs, she broke the kiss and began kissing across my jawline, down my neck, across my chest, finally stopping about three inches above my navel as she was in a position to sit on the edge of the bed. She placed both hands around my cock and stared up at me.

"Tell me what to do," she implored.

"Do whatever you want, Kiddo. You'll know from my reactions how you're making me feel. Just pay attention while exploring. Not everyone will respond the same way to you, so you need to learn how to read different reactions."

"Will you tell me if I do something wrong?"

"There's not much that a woman can do wrong while gently holding a man's cock," I told her, "but I promise to tell you if you do something that I don't like."

She smiled and said, "Okay, here goes."

Placing a light kiss on the tip of my cock, Deborah began stroking the shaft with one hand as the other began exploring my balls. In only a few minutes, a drop of pre-cum appeared and I was surprised when Deborah immediately lapped it up with her tongue.

She gazed up at me and asked, "How much more is this thing going to grow?"

I was pretty close to being fully erect, so I said, "I think we're almost there, but with you, I won't be surprised if I get harder than ever before." I asked, "What's your favorite number?"

With a confused expression, she said, "I don't know. Maybe lucky number seven. Why?"

I gently pushed her back onto the mattress and then swung her legs around so that she was laying completely on the bed. I crawled up next to her before sliding my arm under her body, lifting her and spinning her around and settling her on top of me. Once I had her in the position I was going for, I said, "Because right now, my favorite number is sixty-nine."

As I buried my face into her soft, fluffy pubic hair, she apparently understood and began feverishly licking my cock from head to base. With my mouth positioned so that my tongue was directly below her clit, the tip of my nose settled into the fold of her pussy, where her sweet scent intoxicated me. It only took a few gentle swipes of my tongue on her clit before Deborah had her first orgasm.

Knowing how sensitive she had become after an orgasm last night, I moved my tongue to capture the now abundant flow from between her folds. Stretching my head back, I used my tongue to spread her juices across her perineum and up to her rosebud. She tensed momentarily as my tongue probed her ass, but she then attempted to take the head of my cock into her mouth. She seemed to have difficulty fitting her lips around the head as she lifted her mouth off me and moaned at the caresses my tongue was inflicting on her.

"This isn't working for me," Deborah said. "Your torso is longer than mine. I can't reach where I want to lick you while you are licking me."

"Then find a position that works better for you, Kiddo."

She quickly moved off of me and settled between my spread legs. As she brought her face up she held my now fully erect cock in one hand and placed a kiss at the very base, directly above my balls. Her smiling eyes were gazing up at me, her face divided in my view by my cock. It extended from her chin to the top of her forehead and presented the most beautifully sexy image I had ever seen. I wished that I had a camera to capture the memory.

Deborah had discovered on her own that her hand moved along my cock easier and presented her with better responses from my body when the shaft was lubricated with her saliva. Deciding that licking the shaft alone didn't provide enough saliva, she began spitting on the head and then spreading that down the shaft with her hand while her mouth returned to licking, and occasionally sucking on my balls. Motivated by how she had felt when I teased her perineum and ass, her exploration ventured into areas of my body that had never experienced a woman's attention.

"Oh, Jesus!" I screamed as cum shot out of the head of my cock so suddenly that we were both surprised. Deborah probed deeper into my ass with her tongue as she pumped my cock for all she was worth. It felt like my orgasm lasted longer than a minute as shot after shot of cum erupted from my balls, which is unlikely, but it was definitely the most intense I had ever experienced.

"Please stop now," I begged. "It's too sensitive at the moment."

Deborah removed her hand from my cock, but continued teasing and caressing me with her tongue for several more minutes. Most of my cum lay in puddles on my stomach, but there were several drops on her hand. With a look of triumph on her face, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked one of the drops of semen with her tongue. "It's not powdered sugar," she said, "but it's not bad."

She finished licking her hand clean and then surprised me by moving up and cleaning the puddles of cum on my stomach as well. When she was done, she moved up to lay beside me on the bed and smacked her lips.

"I loved doing that," she said. "The sense of power and control that I felt as I drove your pleasure made me feel like a woman for the first time in my life. I hope that you have plenty of condoms because there is much more that I want us to do."

I put my arm around her and pulled her against me, "I do not have condoms, so if that's an issue for you, then we can just continue to play with each other."

"Oh no," she cried, "I wanted to experience being truly coupled with you, but I'm not on any birth control."

I chuckled and said, "I had mumps when I was a teenager, remember? I'm sterile. I've never had to worry about condoms."

Deborah giggled and said, "I knew there was a reason that I liked you."

It took a lot of patience and almost twenty minutes of effort for me to get my cock completely into Deborah's tight pussy. I had known that her inexperience, coupled with her slender body would present a challenge, especially where my cock's girth was concerned. I focused on licking her clit to build her arousal as I used one, followed by two and then three fingers to stretch her pussy out in preparation.

She had never been penetrated in a position other than missionary, so we started with me laying back and her mounting me. The preparations helped as she was able to lower herself onto the head of my cock relatively easily, but things got considerably tighter the further I sunk into her. Her eyes were closed the entire time as she seemed to be willing her body to accept everything I had to give her. When her pubic hair finally blended with mine, her eyes opened. They had a dream-like glaze to them as she stared down at me.

"Oh, Will, I feel so wonderfully full, and the feeling of your flesh inside me is unbelievable. No more condoms for this girl."

I smiled up at her angelic face as she sat still with my cock fully inside her. I flexed my cock inside her and she let out a small squeal before slowly rising a few inches and then lowering herself back down. I let her set the pace, using my hands to fondle and caress her breasts. Once she had a consistent rhythm going on top of me, I placed my hands on her hips to help steady her. The effect of her first orgasm from intercourse caused her to rise fully off my cock as her body shook for almost a minute.

She flopped beside me on the bed, her hand immediately reaching for my wet cock to begin stroking it. "You just keep getting better for me," she panted.

"Ready to try a different position?" I asked her.

"Will, I want to do it all with you. Any position my body is capable of assuming is fine with me, just as long as it allows you to fill me up like that."

"I'm glad to hear," I said. "Why don't you get on your hands and knees for me?"

From the second that I began pushing the head of my cock into her pussy from behind, Deborah alternated between biting down on a pillow to stifle her screams of pleasure and gurgling incomprehensible words to me. I was able to enter her completely much quicker from this position since she was still stretched out, and I was also able to control the tempo for both of us. I set a slow, steady pace that soon produced the chain of orgasms in Deborah that I had experienced while licking her pussy last night. None were as explosive as the one that she had while riding my cock, but they served to keep her in an almost constant state of orgasmic bliss.

I knew that after my earlier orgasm, I would be able to keep this pace up for a long time before having another one. I wanted to use that time to give Deborah more sensations and more pleasure. I started by reaching under and lightly stroking her clit. That action got an immediate response as Deborah bucked and tried to increase the pace of our fucking.

"If that feels good," I told her, "reach back with one of your hands and take over for me."

She required no further prodding as I felt her right hand push mine away to take its place. I also felt her occasionally reaching further back to caress my balls as they slapped against her. With her clit being tended to, I sucked on my pointer finger until it was well lubricated with saliva, and then applied the saliva to her rosebud. I felt her pussy convulse around my cock as an intense orgasm washed over her. I licked my finger again and returned it to her ass, this time applying enough pressure to pop it into her ass up to the first knuckle. She was able to turn her face fully into a pillow just in time to mute her loud scream as the next, even more intense orgasm overtook her.

As she calmed, she turned her face and gasped, "Please go faster. I need you to go faster. You're driving me crazy."

Confident that I would be able to rise to the occasion at least one more time under the ministrations of this vixen, I increased the pace of my thrusts. Deborah's movements remained in synch with mine as she was driving her body towards a reaction I could only guess would be unprecedented in her young life. I felt the tightening in my balls that foretold my own building orgasm. It kept building as a wonderful crescendo inside me that I was familiar with, not the sudden unexpected eruption that I had experienced earlier. I was buried to my balls inside of Deborah when I came.

"Oh, God! Oh, Jesus!" Deborah roared as her orgasm struck with such an intensity that her convulsing pussy forced my still spurting cock out of her as she lurched forward, her head bouncing off the padded headboard before she collapsed on the bed, exhausted. I fell down beside her, panting and still spurting cum onto the sheets.

~~~

We didn't make love again that day. Deborah's rarely used pussy needed time to recover and adapt to what would become weekly fuck marathons on the days that she stayed at my house. As her popularity in the Atlanta media market continued to grow, we decided that the likelihood of her being recognized by one of my neighbors was increasing, so I helped her get a studio apartment closer to the station that she could stay at on nights when she worked. This cut down on the time that we could spend together, but we both knew that this would happen eventually and accepted it. Right after the first of the year, Deborah and I decided to end our sexual relationship entirely. For her, it had always been about the intimacy that two people could share, and she believed that she was relying upon me too much for the intimacy that she wanted to eventually have with someone she could love completely.

That and the fact that she decided to play Little Miss Matchmaker.

The two high school sweethearts who would grow up to become the cheaters, Karla and Cecil, seemed to rejoice in their freedom to be together and neither contested their divorce. Without having to fear any harassment from her soon to be ex-husband, Claire decided to return from Wisconsin earlier than planned.

The Monday before Christmas, my secretary stuck her head into my office and said, "There's a Ms. Olson here to see you."

"Regarding what?" I asked.

"She claims to be an acquaintance of yours through her niece."

The only niece of anyone that came to mind, of course, was Deborah, but her Aunt Claire was supposed to be in Wisconsin, and her last name was Clark, as her husband. I shrugged and said, "Show her in."

The door swung open and she appeared. Add five years of seasoning to the beauty that Deborah radiated then lengthen her hair about six inches, and you would have created the vision of womanhood that stood at the entryway to my office.

"Claire?" I asked, although to this day I don't know how I found the ability to speak. "I assume that Olson is your maiden name?"

She smiled and said, "Yes. Hello, Will. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important. I just arrived at the airport and thought that since I had to drive through downtown in order to get home that I would take a chance on you having a minute for us to finally meet face-to-face. I must say, as eloquent as Deborah's descriptions of you were, they certainly don't do you justice."

"Claire, it's wonderful that you stopped by. After all that we've been through together, I would gladly clear my calendar for the opportunity to meet you. Are you free to have lunch with me?"

That lunch led to our first dinner date, followed by four more dates before Claire began her gradual destruction of the gray matter in my head by regularly trying to fuck my brains out. We were married two days after Deborah graduated summa cum laude with her degree in journalism.

Two years later, I brokered the deal that led to Statler Multimedia being acquired by Viacom. I made enough in that deal to never have to work another day in my life, but Claire talked me into becoming an industry consultant focused on the growing cable and satellite providers of original television content. With my retained stock in Viacom, I eventually had Deborah appointed to a seat on the Board of Directors to help me protect my investment and influence future acquisitions.

I know that I never mentioned anything to Claire about the intimacies that Deborah and I once shared, and I'm reasonably certain that Deborah hasn't either. When I first met Deborah's future husband, Karl, he greeted me extremely warmly, almost in appreciation for something. While I suspect that Deborah may have told him where some of her sexual 'enthusiasm' originated, I never asked her directly if she had told Karl about us. If he benefited from our past, more power to him.