X squared minus H over P

"Sorry guys, try to find an ugly one next time," Virgil smiled.

"Oh no you won't, Sugar," Paige cooed.

He was enjoying himself; usually in was another man that had the attractive young woman with them and it was him that felt jealous, felt somehow slighted.

Then it was on to the 19th Hole and Paige rubbed his leg and asked if they were going to play golf again.

"Got a tee time for ten twenty tomorrow you interested, Huxton," one of the men said to him, but keeping his eyes on her.

Paige sipped her cola and ordered a club sandwich while the four men made plans to get together the next day.

Then she bought a cute golf shirt with the name of the golf course on the left breast and haggled the shop's proprietor down on the price of the shorts that matched the shirt.

"For tomorrow," Paige explained to Virgil.

Back at the hotel room, Paige pulled Virgil down for a kiss.

"Thanks Sugar; that was fun," she admitted.

"Don't know about you, but I can hear a siesta calling my name," Virgil smiled.

"Absolutely," Paige agreed, stripped out of her blouse and khaki shorts and crawled into the bed.

Virgil stripped down to his tee shirt and boxers and crawled into bed as well.

It felt like only minutes, but it was nearly four o'clock when he awoke.

What had caused Virgil Webster Huxton to wake up was a soft, warm, wet mouth nuzzling on his manhood.

"You got a nice one, you know that?" Paige asked, pulling her mouth off of his cock.

She then swung her leg over and lowered her wet pussy onto his cock.

"God!" she gasped as he pushed up into her.

"Yeah you got a nice one," she grunted as more and more of him filled her.

Her face was beautiful, even with the red, splotchy skin, clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, a small nose and a wide smile with one front tooth slightly twisted. She had a strong jawline and a square chin.

Her breasts were large, larger than a handful, with large light brown areola and fat nipples.

Again, her flesh was mottled with red splotches and some of it was even beginning to peel slightly. But she was beautiful, sexy.

Virgil couldn't believe that a beautiful creature like this was wiggling and gasping and cooing on his long neglected cock.

"Fuck!" Paige cried out in orgasm then continued to bounce on him.

Virgil reached out and grabbed handful of her breasts.

"Ooh, careful, Sugar, they kind of sore," Paige cooed, but made no move to stop him.

Virgil paid her no mind, just squeezed her heavy breasts, twisted and tugged her nipples.

"Fuck!" Paige cried out again.

She leaned forward, pushing her breasts against his tee shirt clad chest.

"Give me a kiss," she demanded and Virgil bent his head forward and kissed the young woman.

"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.

"Be twenty, today's Wednesday?" she asked.

"Today's Thursday, Thanksgiving," he corrected.

"Oh, Happy Thanksgiving!" she said and craned her face forward for another kiss.

"Thursday, so I'll be twenty in two weeks," she said.

She wiggled her buttocks then used her vaginal walls to squeeze his cock.

"You haven't come yet; want to come in my mouth?" she asked.

She craned up for another kiss.

"Or you want to come in my ass?" she asked.

"Oh God!" Virgil groaned and blasted his semen deep into her pussy.

"Oh, Sugar likes that idea huh?" Paige giggled. "Huh? Like the idea of shoving that big old dick up my itty bitty poop hole?"

"God!" Virgil agreed.

Paige kissed him passionately for a few minutes. When his soft cock finally slipped from her pussy, she rolled off of him and lay next to him. Virgil felt an odd sensation well up in him as this beautiful creature put her head on his tee shirt covered chest and lazily drew patterns on his belly with her fingernail.

On Saturday, Virgil and Paige shared a taxi to the small airport. They shared the flight from the small Mexican airport to Houston, Texas. They did not sit together; Paige's seat was J4 and Virgil's seat was C2. Disembarking from the plane, he waited for her and smiled when she emerged into the small waiting area.

"Thanks, Sugar," Paige said.

She stretched up and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. A few people actually stopped and stared at the odd couple.

"Thanks," she said again and turned to begin her long trek to her gate.

Virgil watched as her two luscious ass cheeks wiggled and jiggled in the cute golf shorts. He was so intent on staring at the bottom halves of her buttocks that he failed to see that her head was hanging, eyes facing the tiled floor.

Then he turned and walked toward his own gate.

"Never see another ass like that one," he glumly told himself.

"Oh, you'll see them, just won't get to touch them," he said to himself as he thought of the several young female students at the University of Louisiana at DeGarde.

"Yes sir," the attractive blonde gate attendant smiled when he handed her his ticket.

She typed the information into the computer, nodded and told him they had about fifty minutes until boarding would begin.

Virgil almost thought of going into a bathroom and masturbating to thoughts of Paige Woods, Paige James. But then he just sat and stared at the floor until the gate attendant announced the boarding of their flight.

Chapter 4

Paige landed at Judge Simpson Airport in Oakleaf, Texas. Her two outfits of blouse and shorts, bikini and tee shirt wadded up in a plastic bag had been her only luggage so she did not bother going to the luggage area.

At the entrance of the small airport, she hit the number 7 on her phone. There was no sound. She checked; the battery was full, so she hit the number 1.

Silence again.

"Excuse me; there a pay phone around here?" she asked a young man in a Southwest Airline uniform.

"Where you calling?" the young man asked, giving Paige what he hoped was a seductive look.

"My husband," Paige said, causing the young man's smile to fade.

"Down that corridor, take a left, there's a wall of them," the young man said and walked away.

"Ass hole," Paige said and walked to the bank of pay phones.

She found a handful of change in her small purse and tried Roger's number.

A metallic voice let her know that the phone was no longer in service.

"O," Paige said, feeling a heaviness in her gut. "Oh God no."

She scrounged around and found her last fifty cents and called her mother's number.

"Hello?" her mother's guarded voice answered.

"Hey Mom, I'm at the airport," Paige croaked.

"What airport? Why are you at the airport?" her mother demanded to know.

"Roger uh, he uh, Roger left me in Mexico," Paige admitted.

"Gee I wonder why," her mother said in a sarcastic drawl.

"Mom, come on, I already feel bad enough, huh?" Paige sighed tiredly. "Don't feel like hearing a lecture, all right?"

"And I don't feel like picking up my stupid slut of a daughter either," her mother snapped and disconnected the call.

"No, no, Mom, come on; I don't have any more money," Paige begged but then the phone emitted the dial tone.

"Words have meaning," Paige said and wiped at her face with her hand.

"Here you go, darling, how much you need?" a man asked.

"Just fifty cents, need call my daddy," Paige said, more tears trickling down her sunburned face.

"Can't let no pretty girl cry, be a sin, huh?" the man smiled, handed Paige a few quarters, then strolled away.

"Thanks, mister," Paige called out.

He just waved a hand and turned the corner.

"Yellow?" her father answered.

"Daddy, Daddy, its Paige," Paige pleaded into the telephone. "Daddy, I'm at Judge Airport; I need a ride home."

"Really? Gosh, Sugar Boo, where's your husband?" her father asked in a mock-surprised voice.

"He, he," Paige began to sniffle. "He left me in Mexico, Daddy."

"He left you? Or, you left him?" her father asked, voice hard.

"Daddy, please, please come get me," Paige sobbed into the phone.

"God damn, fine, fine, God damn it," her father sighed. "Be there soon as I can."

"Thanks, Daddy," Paige sobbed, then hung up.

She found a bathroom, went in and tried to clean her face. But the tears just wouldn't stop.

"Words have meaning, Paige. Words have meaning and actions have consequences," she heard Virgil's voice in her head and more tears came.

Giving up, she finally left the bathroom and went and stood outside of the airport building.

"Paige, damn it; there you are," her father's harsh voice cut into her self-pity and Paige numbly walked toward her father's voice.

The first ten minutes of the ride were in a stony silence. Paige finally managed to stop her tears and wiped her face with a fast food restaurant's napkin she dug out of her father's car's console.

"Really?" Albert Woods exploded. "REALLY? Mattie and fucking Mikey Priestly? Those two sons' bitches just used you and threw your ass away like some toilet paper they wiped their asses with? And you left your husband? A good man, run off and fuck them two losers?"

Paige's tears started again.

"Wanted so God damned bad kill that little cocksucker Matt Priestly; ain't nobody does that shit to my little girl," Albert continued to rant. "But your momma said 'she done it to herself.' And then second boy does same thing, same fucking thing, just uses you, wipes his ass and says see ya and you run off with them? On your God damned fucking honeymoon?"

"I wasn't thinking; I mean, I was just so happy see them," Paige sobbed out.

"Oh my God! Oh my fucking God!" Albert screamed.

He screeched to a stop and stared at his daughter.

"You planned, you fucking planned it," he seethed, voice harsh.

"I what?" Paige asked, shrinking from the raw anger in her father's face.

A car's horn blared at them and Albert pulled to the side of the two lane highway.

"Roger wanted to go to Colorado, go skiing for your honeymoon," Albert snarled. "But no! You just had to go to Mexico, had to go to some little shit hole town ain't no one ever heard of; you planned it! This whole God damned thing; you fucking planned it!"

Paige thought to deny it but a hard slap from her father's meaty paw stifled any words in her throat.

For a long moment, she just stared at her father; he had never struck her before.

"Damn it!" her father sobbed and beat his fists on the steering wheel of his car. "God damn it! Oh sweet Jesus, damn it!"

After a moment, Albert started the car and drove. He wiped at his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm sorry Baby," he finally said as he pulled up in front of her mother's trailer.

"Had it coming, Daddy," Paige sobbed.

She leaned over the console and hugged her sobbing father.

"No, Daddy, I had that coming," she sobbed. "You're right; I did, I did plan it."

She opened the car door.

"But I didn't plan on running off with them," she said, using another napkin from his console.

She waggled her rings.

"Planned on just kind of parading around, showing off my rings, showing off my husband, let them low down ass holes see what they done threw away," Paige said and got out of the car.

"Just didn't work out quite that way," she admitted, then closed the door.

Paige's mother was unimpressed by Paige's tears, or Paige's tearful admission of her wrongdoings.

"Oh no shit you was wrong," Monica Braselton Woods Alistair snorted. "No shit."

But Monica did relent and let her daughter stay; Roger had brought back all of Paige's clothes and other items from the small apartment in Oakleaf.

Paige looked at her old bedroom, saw that Roger had brought back her old Dallas Cowboys blanket and smiled sadly.

He had been more of a man than she would have been. Had the tables been turned, had he been the one to run off with an old girlfriend, she would have used his favorite blanket to wipe her ass, would have burned everything else.

"Momma, I use your computer?" Paige asked, stepping into the kitchen of the small trailer.

"Why? Looking for some more old boyfriends to fuck?" her mother snarled.

"No; you want to, you can sit right there and watch me," Paige sighed.

Paige logged onto the Internet, pulled up her email account, then typed out a simple note to Roger.

She apologized, admitted her wrongdoings, then wished him well.

"I know just saying I'm sorry don't make up for hurting you like that but I really am really sorry," Paige typed out.

She twisted the rings on her left hand. Then she set her face in determination.

"Tell me where send the rings; I don't deserve keep them," she typed.

Sunday morning, while Paige was still asleep in her old bed, Dallas Cowboy blanket snugly pulled up under her chin, Michael and Matthew Priestly got off the airplane at Judge Simpson airport.

Matt looked around for Chelsea but did not see her beautiful brown face anywhere.

Michael looked around for his freckle faced Annie, but did not see the red head.

Then Matt saw John Priestly, their father.

"Hey Dad," he said. "Where's uh, where's Chelsea?"

"Get your luggage, car's outside, let's go," John spat and marched away.

Michael and Matthew looked at each other.

They grabbed their two suitcases off of the turnstile, then found the SUV.

"Let me ask you something," John snapped when Matt got into the passenger seat, Michael into the rear seat. "What do we do?"

"Huh? What you mean, what do we do?" Matt asked.

"At Priestly and Associates, what do we do?" John asked, voice tight with anger.

"We uh, we draw stuff," Matt said.

"We draw stuff," John snapped. "God, that's just fucking beautiful. I'm going put that on our next business card. Priestly and Associates, we draw stuff. Beautiful, just fucking beautiful."

"Dad, what's going on?" Michael asked.

"Had us a nice little visit," John said, ignoring Michael's question. "Real nice guy, named Roger James; y'all know him?"

"Who? Roger who?" Matt asked.

"Oh shit, I bet that's..." Michael murmured, remembering Paige had said she was married; if he remembered correctly, her husband's name was Roger.

"Let us in on a little secret," John went on. "Even had some pictures prove it?"

"Oh," was all Matt could say.

"God damn!" John screamed. "God damned Paige fucking trailer trash Woods! Thought we'd seen the last of that little gutter tramp but I fucking guess not, huh?"

"Dad, I uh..." Michael tried to say.

"Priestly and Associates makes money; that's what we do," John snarled.

"Well I know..." Matt tried to say.

"And I told your mother; told her, minute your God damned boys start costing me money? They're on their own," John went on.

He pulled up in front of the three story monstrosity that had been the boys' childhood home.

Matt saw his Lexus in the driveway. Michael saw his own BMW in the drive.

"All your shit's in your cars," John said. "Go on in and tell your Momma bye."

"What?" Matt asked.

"You're on your own," John snarled. "You no longer have jobs at Priestly and Associates, and you no longer live here."

"You can't do this!" Michael protested.

"And Michael? Better hope you don't run into Annie's daddy, here? Mr. Flynn ain't none too happy with you," John said.

Monday morning, while Paige Woods was trying to figure out what she should do with the rest of her life, while Matthew and Michael were still sleeping in the cheap motel room they'd rented, Virgil Huxton marched into his eight o'clock Algebra 101 class. His TA nodded, letting him know that she'd taken attendance already.

Professor Huxton turned to begin his lecture on factoring.

Suddenly, looking at the pinched, unhappy faces of his students, Virgil felt an incredible weariness wash over him.

For four days, for four glorious days, he'd been bathed in sunshine. For four glorious days, he'd had the company of a gorgeous little blonde sexpot. For four glorious days, he'd not been Dr. Huxton, the most hated teacher on campus. He had been a lover, a companion, even a friend.

"Pass your homework up to the front," he wearily sighed. "I know, normally I tell you to hold your questions until the end of the class, but does anyone have any questions about the homework assignment?"

Every day, Paige checked her email account, then listlessly looked at the job postings for the Oakleaf County area.

Three days later, there was a reply from Roger Taylor James.

"Keep them; they mean nothing to me," was all Roger said.

"God damn, really Paige?" Monica spat. "All you going do is sit around and cry?"

Chapter 5

Neither Chelsea nor Annie were in very forgiving moods and when Matt and Mike tried their debit cards, they found out their loving wives had emptied the bank accounts.

"You'll get it back in the settlement; legally they can only take half, Theresa Cooper, their attorney told them.

"But I don't want a divorce," Michael said, actually feeling a tear trickle down.

"Really should have thought about that before," Theresa shrugged. "I mean, we can try for counseling, but uh, Mr. Priestly, can you even afford that?"

She charged them a thousand dollars and decided she'd sit on their paperwork until they came up with the other half of her fee.

Matt and Mike Priestly soon tired of living in a cheap motel and decided to take what was left of the two thousand dollars their mother, Shirley Priestly had given to them that Sunday their father kicked them out and find a cheap place to live.

"It's that fucking Roger Woods, Jim, James, whatever his fucking name is," Matt spat angrily as they picked up some serviceable furniture at the local thrift shop.

"Uh huh," Mike agreed.

While Matt and Mike were furnishing their small studio apartment, Paige was learning the ropes at Oakleaf Homestead on Robert E. Lee Drive in Great Oak.

Mr. Biggs, the manager, had to admit, the girl was a true beauty, stunning. And she seemed incredibly bright, catching on to the computer system very quickly. But it was unnerving, how she never smiled.

In between clients, Paige would stand at her window, idly twisting the rings she wore on her left hand.

She wore a wedding band and an engagement ring, even though she said she wasn't married.

She was hired to be a temporary teller during their busy Christmas season.

Paige saved every penny she could. She offered her mother some of her paycheck, but by now Monica's rage had subsided.

"No, Paige, save it up," she said.

Just after Christmas, Rhonda McClurry returned from her maternity leave. Ronald Biggs gently told Paige that as soon as a job opened up, he'd give her a call.

"Thank you, Mr. Biggs; I've really enjoyed working here," Paige said, but still no smile creased her face.

She did toy with the idea of returning to Connelly; she had one more semester as a sophomore. But she had lost her Cheerleading scholarship due to poor grades, and had very little money to pay for college.

"Plus that, I don't even know what my major is," she thought.

While Paige was looking for a job on her mother's computer, Mike and Matt were also looking for a job on their cell phones.

Shirley had 'loaned' them another thousand dollars, but after paying rent, utilities, and their cell phone bills, they had very little left.

Uncle Charlie wouldn't hire them to work in his real estate office, Uncle Craig wouldn't hire them to work in his equipment rental business. Aunt Cindy wouldn't hire them to work in her construction business.

"But that fat ass tub of shit Kylie just sits around and Uncle Craig just loves her to death," Matt snapped out loud.

"Uh huh, and fucking Kyle's marching around like he owns Scandurro Construction," Mike agreed.

"Hey, here's one for you," Matt said. "Sweet Oak's got a job at that septic tank place."

"No shit?" Mike quipped.

"Plenty of shit," Matt responded.

"Fucking Roger James," Matt yelled as there were no other job listings.

"Professor Danning said fucker got a job at Missouri River State," Mike reminded his brother.