Like A Million Bucks!

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She looked so yummy.
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Here's a short story for you. There's no sex scene. As is often the case with me, my story shouldn't be taken seriously, just a few words put together to make people smile.

Edited by JonB1969.

Your votes and comments are welcome.

*****

Martha was getting ready for the awards ceremony organized by her employer Hendricks, Emerson, Lake & Palmer. There are no Hendricks or Palmer among the partners in the firm, but HELP sure looks catchy when you look in the Yellow pages under solicitors. However, they have a Hendricks working in the mailroom, and a Palmer who does the ground maintenance.

Every year, once the final audits are received, HELP awards certificates and bonuses to their best employees. Martha has been working there for the last 15 years, five as a bookkeeping clerk, then the last 10 years as the PA to the president, Jack Emerson himself.

Let me give you a little bit information about us. 45 years old, 5'10", B cups, and close cropped blond hair. As for my wife, she is 42 years old, 5'9", C+ cups and shoulder-length auburn hair. Lets just say that she is the looker in the family.

We have been married for the last 18 years and we can't have children. Well, I could spread my seed but Martha has a uterine defect.

Anyway, Martha was getting ready upstairs. She had her hair and nails done this afternoon and now was putting a last touch to her make-up and her gown. I have been ready for an hour, having only to shave and put on my tuxedo.

Martha finally came downstairs. She knew I would be sipping a brandy in the living room while waiting for her and that I would have a perfect view of her descent among the throng of Martha's worshipers (that's me).

She was a vision of dreams. Her dress was stopping just beneath her knees, showing off her perfect calves. Starting mid-tights, the dress was hugging her body so closely that it seems to be painted on her. She had a deep neck opening in the front and, when she turned around to show me the whole thing, almost her whole back was exposed. I swear I could almost see the start of her butt crack. And she was obviously wearing no underwear. Despite my uneasiness with this dress, I was now sporting a hard-on.

"So Honey," asked Martha. "How do I look?"

Many words went through my mind: 'slutty', 'whorish', but none that I could really say out-loud. But I had to be honest with my reaction-slash-erection.

"Sweetheart," I said. "You look like a million bucks."

She was beaming at the compliment. She came to me and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek.

"You are so sweet," she simply said.

And that was as effusive as she had been with me over the last couple of years. Yes, I am that dense. Two years before I realized that I wasn't registering anymore in the affective life of my wife. I swear she shows more affection toward our dog than toward me.

We heard somebody outside honking a horn. The limo was here. There's a lot of drinking in these gatherings so the firm was paying for limo service, or a room at the hotel where the evening was held.

Normally there is a bit of mingling before the formal dinner and the award ceremony starts just before dessert is served. We were a bit late and arrived only 30 minutes from the start of the dinner. We were not 10 seconds in the ballroom that Brad Lake was on Martha complimenting her, both laughing and giggling, totally ignoring me. Without a glance toward me, Lake grabbed Martha and dragged her toward the back of the ballroom.

They disappeared out of sight when they reached some flap doors at the end of the ballroom. I was about to follow them when Jack Emerson grabbed my arm.

"How nice to see you again Burt," he loudly told me.

I tried to disengage myself but he was having none of it. Emerson started to drag me toward the main VIP table, near the slightly raised dais where the awards would be delivered.

"Come sit with us," he said. "Martha and you are sitting at my table."

There was no resisting him, unless I was willing to be very rude in front of all the employees and many important clients. I quit pulling back when I saw a few employees disappearing through the same flap doors, including the young Pete, their IT guy with his hard rim glasses, pocket protector, pens and all. Pete was the son of a college friend. I had Martha give a good word to her employer to help him get this job a few months ago. I felt better knowing that he would keep an eye on Martha.

Ten minutes later, I was at the VIP table, engaged in conversation with Mrs. Emerson when Jack Emerson got up and walked toward the end of the ballroom. Like a perfect choreography, he went through the flap doors and Brad Lake came out.

Many of you will know what Lake had on his face... Yes, the famous smirk that is so very telling. A smirk he kept on his face only for me. It disappeared as he sat and excused himself to the boss' wife for his absence. His smirk reappeared when he turned toward me.

"So Burt," he said. "Martha looks stunning this evening. How is your evening so far?"

"It started with a bang, Brad!" I lied. I turned toward him and lowered my voice. "Not five minutes before we came in Martha gave me one of her expert blow-jobs."

The smirk left Lake's face.

"As a matter of fact," I continued, "I will have to remind her to brush her teeth later. I wouldn't want to kiss her and have to swallow all my little swimmers she probably still has swarming in her mouth." I gave Lake a wink.

It took a few seconds for the implication of my words to register then Lake turned around and barfed all over the floor near the table.

I started to pat Lake gently on the back.

"It's alright buddy!" I said loudly. "Let it all go and you will feel better."

A few dozen people were turned toward us, many with surprise written all over their face and quite a few with a disgusted look. With my thumb to my lips, I mimicked somebody drinking to the assembled crowd. Lake would probably receive a few disapproving looks during the evening.

The brouhaha reached the people outside the ballroom and soon my wife and Emerson reappeared, just in time to see the waiting staff busy cleaning the floor.

I looked around. I saw some other people mimicking the drinking sign and it made me smile. Finally I spotted the young Pete. He gave me a thumbs' up before leaving the ballroom.

A tall skinny man in livery approached our table.

"Good evening lady and gentlemen, I will be your server tonight," he said with a strong Indian accent. "My name is Sameer, Sameer Nof, but every American call me Vodka, I don't know why."

Brad, never politically correct, interrupted him abruptly; "Hey Mohammed, the plural of lady is ladies in English," Brad said. "Now bring me a scotch on the rocks."

"Well, my dear Sir," said Sameer. "I work at the hotel lounge and I can tell you there is only one lady at the table." And he left.

We had an excellent meal although Brad Lake looked sour most of the time, unable to be his charming self. With the dessert came the award ceremony. A few employees were honored for their good work. As Emerson was about to conclude the award ceremony and invite all to continue partying, I got up and walked to the dais, a glass of wine in hand. I grabbed the microphone and gently shouldered Emerson away from the lectern. He was surprised by my action and unsure about how to react.

"I would like to offer a moral award to many of us gathered here this evening," I started to the visible relief of Emerson. "There are many spouses who are very instrumental in the success of their tender half, starting with you Mrs. Emerson."

Both Mrs. Emerson and her husband were now smiling.

"Where would your husband be if you weren't there to support him?" I rhetorically asked.

"Still in the kitchen trying to figure out how to work that darn new coffee machine," she answered, loud enough to cause an uproar of laughter among the attendees. Hey, she's the boss' wife and a little brown nosing never hurts.

"I would like to offer a toast," I said when the laughter subsided. "To all the loving wives and loving husbands who are so important to the success of this firm. Cheers!"

Emerson came closer, thinking my little speech was over, but I denied him access to the lectern.

"And I would like to present my very personal awards, ones that are close to my heart," I resumed. I looked and saw Pete standing now close to the VIP table, an unshaven big guy wearing a cheap suit beside him holding a few manila envelopes.

"First," I said. "To you Mister Emerson as head of the firm and as Martha's boss." The unshaven guy reached, gave two envelopes to Emerson and took a picture.

"To Brad Lake."

An envelope appeared in his hands.

"And to my loving wife, Martha. She takes very seriously her role to raise the company employee's satisfaction."

The three of them were now starting to open their envelopes.

"No need to open the envelopes right away," I said. "You are simply being served. You Mr. Emerson, it's a lawsuit for alienation of affection for your affair with my wife and a lawsuit against Hendricks, Emerson, Lake and Palmer for non-respect of their non-fraternization policy. You Mr. Lake, this is a lawsuit for alienation of affection for your affair with my wife. And you, my dear wife, it's a divorce petition based on your infidelity."

Without another word, I started to walk away but Emerson grabbed my arm.

"You won't get away with that little showdown, you son of a bitch," yelled Emerson. "I'll sue the pants off you."

Angry I turned around to face him. Emerson let his envelopes fall to the floor and he had his two hands in front of him like a judoka.

"I know karate," he said.

"Hey, me too," I retorted. "How is he doing?"

Emerson took a while to register what I said and I took advantage of his confusion to push him backward. He fell from the slightly raised dais.

I stepped down, passing near the VIP table. Brad Lake stepped in front of me and whispered loud enough to be heard: "Fuck you and fuck the horse you rode in on, Sinclair."

It took all of my martial arts training not to lash out at him. Then I punched him on the nose, breaking it. What? All my martial training amounts to 40 hours over 6 months. I played hockey for 6 years. Hockey player 1 - Martial art 0.

Nobody else tried to stop me, not even Martha, who had opened her envelope and seen all the pictures taken not only tonight, but also over the course of the last two months. Young Pete had come through to help my case. I had the most graphic one from tonight in her envelope - thanks to his little lapel camera - and she knew me better than to believe in reconciliation.

I heard a loud slap as I was walking away. Mrs. Emerson probably had a good look at all the pictures and Emerson would have hell to pay later at home.

When I saw her tonight, dressed to kill, I knew for certain that she would blatantly betray me. I wasn't lying when I told her she looked like a million bucks. I was just underestimating her worth. I would conclude out of court agreements, and she was worth over two million dollars, after taxes and lawyers' fees.

Not bad for three month's work. Well I consider it hard work to keep your cool for so long while knowing already that your spouse is cheating on you.

I never received even an apology from Martha, an obvious sign that she had lost her love for me. The fact that she was now jobless and the laughing stock in our small town might also explain her behavior. I only knew of one reason why she did that: she didn't love me anymore. I still don't understand why she didn't simply divorce me. But I still have two million good reasons not to worry too much.

Epilogue

We sold the house (too many memories) and split the proceeds but I kept the dog. He is well fed.

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AnonymousAnonymous43 minutes ago

Though the line about getting a BJ before the party was outstanding. It sure got a response from the Bastard. Even though it is a short story it covers most all thee bases. Four stars.

AnonymousAnonymous4 months ago

Boring. Boring. Boring.

AnonymousAnonymous5 months ago

You had my slow mind wondering. You have a bcup.

LOVE slap-hapy-papy #9

nixroxnixrox7 months ago

3 stars - just one more BTB and not that good.

AnonymousAnonymous8 months ago

just a note 'cause I'm a know-it-all...Hendrix did at one time play a set with Emerson and the Nice. cheers T.R.

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