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I was blue for awhile even though she kept in touch. Lo and behold something went wrong after just two years. Anita told me in tears her husband was messing around. I couldn't believe it; Anita was in her early 30's by now but curvy as ever and they'd created a nice household between the two of them and their two c***dren (her daughter and his son from a previous union.)So...Anita basically said what was good for the goose was good for the gander. Or in this case black swan and boy did I make up for opportunities missed in the past due to my reluctance to push things.Anita was all-too happy to see me when she could which was about once a month. I'd seen women during our time together before but couldn't get or feel as close to them as Anita; she was my first real love after school. She'd talk to me about how things were at home; about her job situation and what she was up to. I listened and offered encouragement. I tried not to think ahead or to nudge in any way but to be there for. “Oh you know me, just a few beers in the hotel bar, be a quiet one as usual”. Bang on 10 the phone rang, it wasn’t Chris but the voice said the key opens the room with ‘Server Room’ on it. When the phone rings next I was to go out into the corridor and into the server room, if anyone else was in the corridor I was to keep walking. My heart was pounding, I sat on the bed watching the clock, I’ve never known the time to pass so slowly. At 10:08 the phone rang again and that was my queue. I opened the door, walked along the corridor and into the server room, I couldn’t believe what I saw.The other spy room was just a bare room with a few seats, this one had full video and sound recording equipment. Chris was inside and assured me they never use it, with a telling smile! The bedroom was similar to the others but slightly bigger and had a sofa along one wall. On the sofa was 2 young girls, both young and very pretty, and both dressed for a night out. “Do you think he’ll be here soon?”“I.
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’ The sight of the ring brought back the lusty grin on his face, ‘Well now, this certainly is awkward.’ Rhea spun on her heels and walked away. The man’s gaze never left her receding form. Especially her bulbous ass cheeks. The Husband: Rhea parked her car in the garage and entered her bungalow. The light clicking of her heels did not go unnoticed by her husband, who was in his study, ‘Ah, she finally returns.’ he called out and approached her. In the context of art, if Rhea were Botticelli’s wet dream then her husband would qualify as a certifiable nightmare. The contrast did not end at their physical appearance alone, for as wealthy as her husband was, he was also a classless brute, for whom ‘beauty’ was just the amount of zeros in front of his net worth. He also for some reason fancied himself a ladies man, ‘There she is, the eight wonder of the world.’ he grinned and delivered a customary smack on his wife’s rump. ‘God, I love the way it bounces.’ He breathed slowly and looked.

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