Life After Love Ch. 01

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PART 1: A New Hope


Pen in hand, I sat down again. I wanted to keep moving. My cheeks itched just a bit where the tears had dried. The rumpled napkin was still sitting on the table just where I’d left it.

“That’s all right. Happens to everyone. Just two more. Right here, and right here.”

Quickly, I scribbled where the man told me. Then with a sigh, I set the pen down and sat back in my chair.

“Congratulations.” The words sounded anything but congratulatory. “You are now officially divorced.”

I shook his hand, and then watched him leave. The door slammed with an air of finality. I leaned back in the chair, another heavy sigh escaping my lips. I’d been sighing a lot recently. Twenty-four years old and already divorced. Chalk me up to another American statistic.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. The lawyer would come to my office to do the paperwork. It saved me the hassle of meeting him somewhere else. But now, as the huge walls of the conference room closed in around me, I dreaded even more having to get up and face my co-workers in this current state.

The divorce is what we both wanted. But right now I felt like shit.

I managed to make it to the men’s room without anyone seeing me. Quickly, I washed my face and then stared into the mirror. Half muttering to myself, I forced a cool, calm look into my eyes, prepping myself to go out into the world again.

I passed by the cubicles, barely noticed by anyone. Bradley looked up and waved a file at me. I held up a hand to get him to wait a bit longer and kept marching towards my office. Tiffany stepped into my path, walking across an intersection in the aisles and heading off towards my right. She flashed a big smile at me, a thick set of folders crossed over her curvy chest. Just like every other day, I tried not to notice, and kept moving forward once she’d passed.

A few seconds later I was in the sanctity of my office, the door closed. Alone once again. I stared at my monitor. Fifteen emails had popped up in the last hour.

I put my copy of the divorce papers into a file. I ignored the fifteen emails (excuse me, now sixteen emails). Instead, I was staring at the gold/platinum band around my left ring finger.

With a sudden burst of anger, I moved to rip the thing off, but it was wedged onto me pretty tightly. My fingers must’ve been getting fatter or something. And so with a little pain, and some brute force, I pulled it off. I found an empty envelope and slipped the wedding band inside. The skin was noticeably lighter, if a little pink right now. Even though I’d taken the ring away, I still had an obviously untanned ring of skin around my finger.

I looked away, to my computer screen. Seventeen emails.



I’d had it all. I was living the American Dream. The high-paying job with the MBA. Nice car. Three bedroom starter home. Big screen plasma TV. And above all, a gorgeous and loving wife. We’d met during freshman orientation at college and started dating. When Kristin got onstage to pick up her college diploma, I was waiting at the end of the ramp, still in my own graduation gown, down on one knee and holding a big shiny diamond.

We’d gotten jobs close together. A year later we had a beautiful spring wedding. A year after that we picked out a brand-new house in an upscale community. I got promoted, traded up for the new Euro-Sport Sedan, we started talking about baby names, and life was just taking off from there.

Then Richard happened. He was a cute sales guy at some trade show. Kristin had one too many drinks at the bar. She confessed to me the moment she got home. I believed that I could forgive her. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the sex that bothered me. It was that she did it behind my back. She was so sorry, and promised it would never happen again. For a while, everything was going to be okay.

But as the weeks passed by, little cracks started to show up in our marriage. I’d get nervous when a guy friend would innocently flirt with her. She was getting paranoid that I didn’t trust her anymore. Both our tempers got a little big shorter. The fights lasted longer and came more frequently.

Then I came home one night to find my wife in bed… with Richard.

She wanted out. I agreed. She said we got married too young, too fast. She wanted space. We couldn’t keep living together like that anymore. But it still broke my heart.

She moved out immediately and moved in with a friend. I stayed until the house sold and we could split the profits. The divorce was final only three months later.

Kristin was the love of my life. And now my life after love begins. It’s a depressing life. Friday nights, alone in an empty condo. But I still had the nice car, the plasma TV, and Cinemax. Life could have been worse, I suppose.

The biggest problem with being married at such a young age is that you lose touch with a lot of your friends. You stop going out to bars or clubs. The people you do see are friends of “the couple”. To be honest, a lot of them were Kristin’s friends Gaziantep Sarıgüllük Escort to begin with, which left me mostly alone.

It’s hard being out of the game for a few years. You forget how to flirt. You forget how to date. I had no skills anymore for meeting new women. While married, you feel nostalgic for the old days, but you’re happy that you found what everyone else is looking for. I had it, but I lost it. To borrow a phrase from my little brother, life sucks big donkey balls.

So with this mantra in my mind, I run myself ragged at work every day. It’s all I’ve really got left. One of my staff told me I had to see this Topher Grace/Dennis Quaid movie. But then he immediately started laughing like a dumb hyena, so I’m not about to take his advice right now.

Tiffany was flirting more than usual with me. The news had spread throughout the office (only hours after I told the first “trusted friend”) that I was getting divorced. I guess now the young, rich executive was fair game. I remembered an art piece by some weird guy in LA: “Gold Diggers: like hookers, only smarter.”

Tiffany’s tits looked so round and delectable. But my brain warned that the last thing I needed was getting taken advantage of by a social climber.

It was a Friday afternoon. I made my own hours. And the walls were starting to close in on me. Time to get the hell out of there.


I leaned back into a plush, overstuffed lounge chair, trying to crawl into the shadow of a fake plant. Bright, natural light was pouring through the open windows. The sun wouldn’t be setting for an hour at least. For an ordinary day, it was way too early to be getting drunk. But this wasn’t an ordinary day.

Happy Hour was just getting started at Maretto’s, an upscale restaurant frequented by the preppy and youthful rich. I’d only been there ten minutes but I drained my second glass of some toxic mixture, then tilted my head back and let the thickness in my brain take over.

My pretty waitress came over. “Can I get you anything else?”

I held up my empty tumbler. “Two more of these.” For a moment I wanted to flash my most charming smile, test my seduction skills, but I decided against it.

“Sure thing.” She smiled down at me and took away the glass.

And so I sat there, staring into space. Every minute or so I’d take a big chug from the two tumblers before me. I’d already worked up good buzz. But now I wanted to blow through the buzz and get right to the painful part.

I had finished both drinks, and was hunting around for my pretty waitress. I turned my head around a little too quickly, pain in my head to join the dizziness. I was bobbing around for a full minute before I realized she was standing not two feet away from me serving a drink to a very pretty brunette sitting in the lounger just across mine.

I muttered an “Excuse me,” and she turned.


I held up my latest empty tumbler. “Another.”

“Sir, I think you’d better stop or you won’t be able to drive home.”

Immediately, I reached down and pulled my car keys out. I set them onto her serving tray. “When I’m done, you can call me a cab. But right now, I need another one.”

Obediently, she left with my car keys and went to get my drink.

A musical laugh filled my ears and I managed to zero in on the brunette across from me. “Got woman problems?” she asked.

I couldn’t quite keep my head still, but I was able to respond in her general direction. “That obvious?”

She got up out of her chair and plopped down into the one next to me. She kicked back her drink, draining it dry. Then she reached out and actually took hold of my left hand, her thumb brushing across the untanned spot on my finger. “Problems with the wife?”

“Just got divorced, actually.”

“Really?” There was playful tone of hopeful promise in that word. She was suddenly more interested in me. “Mind if I get miserable with you?”

My eyebrows furrowed at that. “What’s your story?”

“My boyfriend of five years left me.”

I took a second long look across this young lady’s body. She was slender, but wonderfully curvy in all the right places. In her twenties, probably younger than me. Long, tanned legs that went on forever. Nice hips, flat stomach, big tits spilling over the unbuttoned top of her blouse. Her dark brown hair had long bangs that could reach to her chin and frame her face, but cut in a Natalie Imbruglia kind of sassy shortness. She had a very pretty face, and her eyes were a bright blue. Those eyes captivated me so much they actually managed to draw my attention away from her exposed cleavage. This babe was Playboy model material.

After watching her watching me ogle her, I finally spoke up. “Uh, I don’t think that’s quite possible. Must be your imagination?”


“Well, from where I’m sitting, there is no way anyone on this planet would give up a body like yours.”

Her musical laugh was back. “That’s sweet. But it may be the vodka talking.”

“True enough. But my answer is ‘yes’, you’re welcome to get miserable with me.” I raised my hand, and then directed the waitress to get the lady a new drink on me.

“Now, I believe you owe me a name.”

“Owe you?”

“I buy you a drink; you give me your name. That’s how this game works right? I’ve been out of it for a few years now.”

“I suppose.” She fixed me with a more formal look, extending a hand out to me. “Hello, my name is Lauren.” She giggled again. “So in this game, what am I supposed to owe you if you buy me two drinks?”

“Uh, second drink gets me your phone number. Third gets me a date. And if you let me buy you a fourth drink, then that means you’re willing to sleep with me.”

“Really?” Lauren eyed me up and down now. Our waitress arrived just then with Lauren’s drink.

“I need three more of these. And he’s buying.” When she turned back to me, her eyes flared up and she grinned at me. “So that’s four, right?”

I chuckled at that. “Right. But I was just kidding.”

“I wasn’t.”


With head tilted back and graceful neck exposed, Lauren drained the last of that fourth drink, which put her around six for the evening. I had seven at least, and figured if I would have difficulty walking, Lauren must be in even worse shape. But her eyes were still alert.

In the last couple of hours, we’d been talking nonstop. Despite being rather drunk, Lauren had a sharpness and verbal acuity that belied her intelligence. I wondered for the dozenth time how any man that had her could let her out of his grasp. Momentarily I wondered, was this my new beginning? When I found myself down and out, drunk off my ass, a beautiful woman would find me?

Right then I lost control of my drink and spilled it all over my hand. “Shimatta!” I cursed. Real smooth. What was she going to think of you now?

“What was that?”

“Oh, uh, Japanese. Occupational habit.”

She laughed and then dropped her own tumbler onto the table. “I think that means it’s time to go.”

I smiled, and shook the strange introspective thoughts from my mind. I’m just desperate and dreaming. Besides, I should be heading home. “Yeah, I’d better get my cab. You too, I don’t think you’re exactly in driving condition either.”

She got to her feet unsteadily, having to brace her hand against the chair. “No, probably not. But that’s alright. I have a car waiting.” She flipped open a cell phone. A moment later, she said, “I’ll be at the front door in a minute.”

In the meantime, I flagged down our pretty waitress and paid the bill. She brought me my keys and told me she would call the cab now.

Lauren interrupted. “No thank you. I’ll have my driver drop him off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The waitress eyed the two of us with a smirk, then nodded and turned away.

Lauren closed the phone, and then turned to me, slipping her arm around mine. “Shall we?”

Nodding agreeably, I walked her to the front door. A big, black luxury sedan with heavily tinted glass was waiting for us, a uniformed driver holding open the back seat. Lauren slid inside and I followed after. The privacy panel rose up between us and the driver.

The car had just gotten underway when I felt a cool hand touch my cheek and turn my head. And then I was filled with Lauren’s sweet scent as she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine.

Very briefly, a pang of guilt popped into the back of my head, as if I was cheating on my wife. But then my brain actually woke up for a moment to remind me that my wife had left me. And I gave myself over to the pleasure being offered.

I felt the gentle roll of car rocking me while Lauren crawled into my lap and started her own rocking against me. Our tongues were sparring and my arms wrapped up her slender body.

She held my head while we reveled in the passion of kissing someone for the first time. I held her tight ass in my hands as we licked and nuzzled and caressed. When she backed away from me, the sparkle in her eyes and her impish grin were seductive hints of what was to come.

She slinked her way down my body until she was kneeling on the plush floor of the car. The back seat was bigger than I’d realized. I sat still as she coyly fished open my zipper and drew my painfully hard erection through the fly. I held my breath for a moment, watching her pretty face hovering over my rod. And then when she leaned in to draw a long lick across it I let out a long exhalation of pent-up arousal and excitement.

Almost casually, she drew me into her mouth and down her throat, sinking further and further until she’d taken me all the way down in one long gulp. My eyes were wide as her tongue and throat muscles massaged me. Damn she was really good at this. Then, she backed off a bit so that the crown was between her lips while she wrapped her hand around my pecker to stroke the shaft.

All too soon, I felt myself slipping away, months of sperm coiling in my swollen balls. I grunted a warning, and she took up a fast wrist motion to jack me off while she opened her mouth and looked into my eyes to watch me. My vision was locked onto the twitching rod in her hands and then all at once the end split open and I could see the jets of cum blasting into her mouth.

She kept jacking me off but after the first three spurts she clamped her mouth around me and started to swallow it down. But the months away had built up a huge load and after a while, dribbles of semen started slipping out the corners of her mouth. Her eyes flashed as she kept swallowing and let the rivulets streak down her chin.

At last I ran dry for the moment, my head reeling from the force of my orgasm. Lauren sat back on her heels, immensely proud of herself as she saw the utter and complete satisfaction on my face. Then she turned to find a tissue from somewhere and cleaned up her face.

Once done, she ducked her head back into my lap to lick any remaining traces of my sperm off of me, and despite the recent deflation, I felt a fresh bout of energy willing itself back down into my loins.

Lauren moved off of me when the car came to a stop inside a large garage. When the driver opened the door, I followed Lauren into the house like a lost puppy.

“Good lord,” I exclaimed as I looked around at the opulent surroundings. “What do you do for a living?”

“Oh, nothing. I write about fashion every now and again, but my family’s loaded.” She pirouetted and started away from me.

Lauren stalked directly through the hallways, never turning around to look back at me. She shrugged out of her silky jacket and cast it away. The blouse came next and I stepped past it as I followed her, watching her tight ass flexing with each motion in the short skirt.

At the end of the hall, she flung open the double doors and marched into a spacious bedroom, and then turned around to face me as I watched her slip the skirt to the floor.

I came right up to her and pulled her into a frenzied kiss while her hands immediately went to strip my clothes off as well. Soon after, all clothing was scattered to the side and then I picked up her naked body into my arms, burying my face into her fabulous tits and carried her up to fall onto the bed in a heap of naked flesh.

I suckled on her breasts, tiny aureole capped with turgid nipples, while Lauren held my head to her chest and moaned happily. I left my hands in place to their enjoyment while I slid my body down the bed until I was half-hanging off the mattress, but with my head between her legs.

My pecker was screaming at me like mad to bury itself into the first vagina it would have in what felt like ages. But my ego would not let me continue without first pleasing the lady.

My tongue was carving out the alphabet on her neatly trimmed pussy and my fingers dragged their way across all the sensitive nooks and crannies along her sides, alternately tickling and caressing. In just a few short minutes, I was soon rewarded with a squeal and a river of honey pouring out into my mouth while Lauren’s thighs clamped tightly against my ears.

I felt a tugging against my hair, so I pulled myself up to stretch my body over hers, my hips naturally nestling between Lauren’s legs as she reached out to taste herself on my lips. The light in her eyes was almost enough to quell the nervousness in my heart.

I kissed her quickly, and then leaned back. “I, uh, haven’t done this is a long time.”

Lauren said nothing, but closed her eyes and planted a fresh, passionate kiss on me that went a long way to stoking the fire in my loins and washing away my fear. Her hand slid down to wrap around my throbbing shaft, as large and as hot as it had ever been. And with her guidance, I leaned forward and sank myself into her folds, a slow but exciting warmth a million times better than sinking into a hot tub after a weary day.

“Oh my god…”

We just lay there for a few moments, soaking up the sensations and feeling the gentle pulses of our joining. And then I felt her inner muscles MOVE.

I gasped at the feeling and then suddenly I was thrusting, pulling back until I was almost disengaged before driving back in, our hips blasting together and forcing a moan from Lauren’s lips. I lifted myself up on my arms to watch this vixen beneath me, eyes bright, whimpering in pleasure, round tits bouncing.

Lauren was a vocal lover, urging me on with dirty words and a husky tone. And she was all real, not just spouting mindless phrases like a bored porn star.

“Fuck me… harder… ooh, like that…”

Faster and faster we kept going, until Lauren’s hands were clamped onto my biceps while her legs intertwined with mine to pull me tighter into her with each thrust. The pleasure was so intense I could feel my control beginning to slip away. I ground my hips as best I could and was soon rewarded with a breathy gasp from Lauren, soon followed by her back arching, pressing her chest into mine. And then a happy cry sounded off in my ears as Lauren crested over into orgasm.

Finally I relaxed my inner muscles, and at that moment I erupted, a huge torrent flowing into her willing body. With every pulsing spurt, another weight was lifted off of my shoulders. My ex-wife was history. My life would go on. Perhaps I did have a chance at life after love.

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