X squared minus H over P

While Mike and Matt Priestly were sharing their hatred of Roger Taylor James, Professor Huxton was stoically interviewing graduate students for the job of Teaching Aide. He knew he was the most hated, most reviled teacher on the campus of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, but it shouldn't be this hard to find a good TA.

"Next!" he called out and wondered if there even was a 'next' waiting on the other side of the door.

Hi uh, I um, I don't know if you remember me?" a pimple faced young man stammered. "Stanley Simpson? I uh, I actually took your Algebra one oh one twice but you know what? I learned a lot from that."

The young man took the seat Dr. Huxton pointed to.

"I uh, yeah, I thought I knew everything so when I failed your class, man! Woke me up quick," Stanley continued. "Showed me I don't know everything and I better get serious about learning. So, uh, Dr. Huston, even I don't get this? I just wanted to say 'thank you.' It was a valuable lesson."

Virgil actually smiled and talked with the young man about the courses he'd taken at ULD, what other Mathematics teachers he'd studied under.

"Well, I'm sure you've applied for Dr. Jordin and Mr. Elwell..." Virgil said.

"I uh, no sir, no Dr. Huxton; you're the only one I applied for," Stanley admitted, Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

While Virgil was telling his new TA what would be expected of him, Paige was fighting down nausea. She was attempting to brush her teeth; she had a job interview in twenty minutes. But every time she'd bring the toothbrush close to her mouth, the smell of the Crest toothpaste made her stomach lurch.

Finally, she simply gargled with some mouthwash and left the house.

Three minutes into the job interview with Charles Goodwin of Goodwin Realtors, Paige knew she did not want the job of receptionist. Charles' eyes had not gone above her large breasts. She'd dressed conservatively for the interview; she was not flaunting her body. But the man made her feel cheap.

"Mr. Goodwin, thank you, but I can see this is a waste of my time and yours," she said and got to her feet.

"Huh?" the man asked, genuinely surprised.

"But you have you a great day, all right?" Paige said and left the man's office.

At her mother's home, Paige again checked the listings. Increasing the radius to fifty miles did not add any new jobs.

Then an idea hit her.

She typed in 'DeGarde' and found 'Louisiana' in the state text box.

"First Union, teller," she smiled.

A click on the link, a rapidly typed out cover letter and she sent off the resume. There was a listing for a waitress position at Side By Side steakhouse.

"Being a waitress is haa-aaa-ard work," Monica said. "Bust your ass for less than minimum wage, kiss a lot of ass trying get a lousy tip and half the time, little bastards skip out without giving you shit."

There were a few other jobs and Paige sent off resumes to them as well.

That night, brushing her teeth did not make her nauseous so she just shrugged it off.

But the next morning, she could not bring the toothbrush within six inches of her face without the smell making her physically ill.

A check of her email showed her that she had a response from First Union Bank, asking her for a job interview for the following morning. She also had a response from A & A Soaps, asking for an interview the following afternoon.

"Momma, I'm leaving," she said, scurrying to her room.

"When you be back, Sweetie?" Monica asked.

"I don't know," Paige said.

She packed a suitcase, making sure to roll up her Dallas Cowboys blanket.

"Oh, you mean, you leaving," Monica said.

"Momma, I was in the store other day and heard two old women talking," Paige said as she lay out two nice dresses for her two job interviews. "And they was saying that's that girl run off on her honeymoon."

She looked at her mother.

"Words have meaning and actions have consequences," Paige said.

She then lugged her suitcase to her car.

Her father tried to hide his tears as he hugged his baby girl good bye. But when she kissed his cheek and told him she loved him, Albert burst into tears.

"Love you too, Baby Girl," he wailed.

She drove east, driving her old car just four miles over the speed limit. Pulling off of I-10 at nearly eight o'clock that evening, she pulled into the parking lot of the DeGarde Inn.

"Hi, Paige Woods," she said to the tired looking clerk. "Sent y'all an email?"

"Oh, yes, Ms. Woods," the clerk smiled.

Then the clerk noticed the rings.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, MRS. Woods," she corrected herself.

"No, no, you had it right," Paige smiled tightly. "But it's a long story, and I had a long drive and I'm just not up to telling it."

"I understand," the woman smiled.

A wake up call roused Paige from a dead sleep. Again, attempting to brush her teeth brought on waves of nausea. Finally, Paige just washed the toothpaste off the brush and brushed her teeth with a naked brush.

Heidi Moek hired the girl on the spot; Paige Woods was bright, articulate, well-dressed. There was a maturity behind the girl's eyes that belied her twenty years of age.

"So, we'll see you here on Monday," Heidi smiled.

"Yes ma'am; where's U.L.D's campus from here?" Paige asked.

"Oh? Thinking of taking some night classes?" Heidi asked.

"Hmm? No, not right now," Paige admitted. "No, got an old friend I just got to say 'hi' to."

In her car, she used her cell phone, shot A & A Soaps an email, cancelling her interview.

In room 331, Professor Huxton was scribbling out an equation, while explaining the principle. Behind him, he heard a ripple of murmurs.

Glancing over at Stanley, he saw the young man gawking and smirked.

He wondered who skirt Stanley was looking up is; many of the female students were less than modest.

Then he glanced over his shoulder and saw a vision of beauty in the doorway.

"Stanley, take over for me," he said, turning around.

"Hi Sugar," Paige smiled, reaching her arms out to him.

"Stanley, you've got the rest of my classes for the day, all right?" Virgil said, bending down to kiss Paige.

X2-H/P=0, solve for P.

The Mathematics building was stifling, unbearably hot but Roger knew that, after the front and rear doors had been opened several hundred times, by ten o'clock that morning, many students would be complaining about how cold the building was.

In the early morning, the building was quiet, except for the hissing of the air vents.

Nina Soo, an attractive Asian-American girl had tearfully dressed that morning.

"Roger, I am not Paige," she sobbed as she grabbed her long winter coat.

"I know she hurt you, but God damn!" she screamed. "I'm not her! I am not Paige!"

Driving from his apartment to the school, Roger did wonder how Nina had managed to get home. Even with the chains on his tires, he was having difficulty navigating the frozen streets and Nina had been on her bicycle.

Now, safely ensconced in his office, Roger pushed the thoughts of Nina out of his mind and looked over the stack of test papers his TA had already graded.

Cheryl Wing ham was a blonde cheerleader, the girl sat right in front of the class, leaning forward to show off her magnificent breasts, or leaning back to show off her long tanned legs.

She'd managed to squeak out a '59' on the test and Roger resisted the urge to change her grade from a fifty nine to a thirty nine.

Cheryl wouldn't be the first blonde cheerleader that sat in his class, thought that her large breasts and heart shaped ass should earn her a passing grade.

And she wouldn't be the first blonde cheerleader to find out that having nice tits and nice ass got her nothing in Dr. James's class.

He had been a child prodigy, baffling and impressing teachers with his knowledge. He had skipped three grades, graduating from high school at age fourteen. Growing up in Great Oaks, Texas, and being too fearful to move too far from home, he had elected to go to Connelly College instead of MIT or Stanford or Duke. Now the twenty two year old regretted that decision.

"Would have never met that God damned cunt," he thought bitterly.

He stood at five feet, seven inches, weighed one hundred and seventeen pounds, and possessed a skinny five inch erection. His mop of brown hair stuck out at odd angles, his glasses were so thick that his mud brown eyes looked huge to those standing in front of him.

How could he have been so foolish, so blind to think that a beauty like Paige Woods would ever be attracted to him?

While Roger James was sitting in his office, poring over that day's lesson plan, hundreds of miles south, Mike and Matt were glumly scrubbing down a truck.

Sweet Oak Septic Tank Solutions had hired them on; the owner had actually hoped that hiring on two Priestly boys would give him an edge up in securing the accounts of Priestly & Associates, as well as Scandurro Construction, would get him some recommendations from Goodwin Realtors and from Eagan Equipment.

But so far, hiring the two boys had not proved to be a wise investments.

"God damn, boys, let's pick up the pace, huh?" Ray snapped. "Would like to get that truck out on the road some time today, huh?"

Matt sullenly did pick up the pace. Chelsea had given birth to the cutest little girl Matt had ever seen but had christened the baby Bernice Ann Myers, instead of Priestly.

He felt the sting of tears as he thought about his baby girl growing up, not having his last name.

Michael also picked up the pace, squinting at his work through his one good eye. Annie's father had caught up with him outside of Benito's Pizza; had Matt not been there, the ass whipping would have been much worse.

"Know what?" Michael had sobbed out. "Know what? I'll let you kick my ass if you'll just make Annie talk to me."

"Don't need talk to no punk ass bitch like you, Mikey," Mr. Flynn had snarled.

"More like it," Ray muttered as the two scrubbed the truck.

While Matt and Mike were doing an honest day's work for an honest day's pay, Paige was dressing for her first day at First Union Bank.

"Play nice with the others, no beating them up for their lunch money," Virgil said as he dressed for his own day at work.

"Now, see? Doesn't that look so much nicer, Sugar?" Paige asked, smoothing down his dress shirt.

She'd come into his modest home, wrinkled her nose at the mismatched Hodge podge of furniture, the clutter. But when she opened his closet and saw the Bargain Bin clothing, she asked him just how little college professors were paid.

"What? I'm making forty seven a year," he laughed.

"And this is the best you can dress?" Paige asked.

"No, that's the best I want to dress," he had corrected her.

He relented, after some very energetic sex, to let her take him shopping.

"Used sex to trick me," he muttered as she combed through the racks of clothes at Babbage's Department Store.

"Uh huh and I'll trick you again you not careful," she smiled and held up a brightly colored shirt against him. "When's the last time you got a new hairstyle? Nineteen fifty?"

"I wasn't even born in Nineteen fifty," he said and shook his head at the slacks she was looking at.

Now, looking in his bedroom mirror, a mirror she'd cleaned, he had to admit, the white shirt with red and gray stripes did look good with his gray slacks.

His buzz cut hairstyle also looked good, better than his plastered down hairstyle.

"Good God, how can you even see through those glasses, go clean them," Paige ordered and he slipped on his new suede loafers before dutifully going into the bathroom to clean his eyeglasses.

"Uh huh, and get that blanket off my bed; surprised the place hasn't burst into flames with that sac religious thing in here," he said.

"How many Super Bowls the Cowboys won?" she challenged.

"How many people in this house care?" he challenged.

"Got my hand up," Paige said.

"Got a finger up," Virgil said.

Outside, Paige pulled him down for a loving kiss before getting into her Delta Eighty Eight.

"Bye, Sugar, love you," she said.

"Love you too," he agreed and got into his own car.

At First Union, Paige carefully, meticulously went over her paperwork. After lunch, a lunch she'd thoroughly enjoyed at Tommy's Po-Boys, she was seated with Ingrid, one of the tellers, to simply observe.

"Swear to God, cramps are killing me," Ingrid confided to Paige in between customers.

Paige looked at her for a long moment, then smiled and nodded in sympathy.

Twinges of nausea whenever she tried to brush her teeth with the toothpaste she'd been using all of her life. Sore breasts; she was sure Virgil's fingerprints were imbedded in them. She couldn't remember when her last period was, but it was before her bogus honeymoon.

"Damn it," she muttered.

X2-H/P=0, if P is 2, solve for H

Paige and Virgil arrived home within ten minutes of each other. Paige was already in the kitchen, trying to decide what to do with his two pounds of ground beef when he came in and bent to kiss her.

"Hi Sugar, you like chili?" she asked.

"Depends," he said. "You putting beans in it?"

"Beans?" she scoffed. "You want chili's got beans, go on down and get you some Wendy's. This is real Texas chili."

"Then yeah, I like chili," he agreed.

After dinner, after energetic sex, Paige lay next to Virgil on the bed, her head on his bare chest.

"Sugar? Got something need tell you," she cautiously said.

She felt him tense up but forged ahead.

"Sugar, think I'm pregnant," she admitted.

His hand had been softly stroking her long blonde hair. He reached down with his other hand and began rubbing her flat belly.

"Sugar, I don't know, I mean, I really hope it's yours, but I just don't know," she continued, lifting her head and looking into his eyes.

Without his glasses on, her face was just a blurred image. He couldn't see her eyes.

"Sugar? What you thinking?" she finally asked.

He kept softly rubbing her belly.

"I uh, well, I hope it's mine too," he said.

She kissed him.

"But uh, seriously, anyone need to know if it's not mine?" he asked.

"Nope," she giggled in relief. "No one needs know nothing but you the Daddy."

"Well, I hope we didn't conceive him during anal sex," he drawled.

"Her; why?" she asked.

"Well, we conceived him or her during anal sex, that baby will grow up to be a Cowboys fan," he said.

A moment later Paige squealed and slapped his chest.

"But uh, listen," he said. "I know it's 'old school' of me, but..."

"I'm old school," she assured him.

She looked into his eyes.

"Virgil, I'm old school. Words have meaning and actions have consequences. This body? It's yours and no one else's," she said.

She then gripped his flaccid cock in her small hand.

"And, uh? You better be old school too, mister. I seen some of them girls on that campus of yours," she said.

"Baby, I was old school before old school was cool," he assured her.

Upon his return to Great Oak, Texas, Roger had applied for an annulment of their wedding; the papers had been among Paige's belongings that he'd returned to her mother's trailer. Just to be safe, though, Paige did make an appointment with Nicole Banks, the attorney Heidi Moek suggested.

Nicole looked into the matter and reported to Paige that the annulment was good; it was like the marriage to Roger Taylor James had never happened.

"It happened," Paige thought to herself. "It happened and a good man got hurt."

She gladly, for once and for all, took off the rings she'd been wearing as a daily reminder of her foolishness, her callous behavior and happily put on the platinum engagement ring Virgil bought for her.

During Spring Break, Virgil and Paige flew to the sleepy little Mexican villa. They found a minister that married them on the chartered fishing boat where they had first met. Manuel proudly stood in as Virgil's best man and Trina, Manuel's heavyset wife happily stood in as Paige's matron of honor.

While Paige and Virgil were in Room 210 of the Hacienda Del Sol, 'consummating' their marriage, Michael Priestly was on his phone, begging Annie for a chance to come see his baby boy.

Drinking a beer, Matt listlessly listened to Mike. He'd long ago given up trying to see Bernice. Even with a court order, Chelsea still found ways to make visitation as difficult as possible.

"Fuck, give it up, Mikey," Matt finally grumbled. "Fucking face it man; we're nothing but checkbook dads."

"Fucking Paige God damned Woods," Mike snarled bitterly.

"No, Mike, no," Matt said wearily, draining his beer. "Ain't no one made us fuck her. Fucking Mattie Priestly and fucking Mikey Priestly, all right? That's who's to blame for this shit."

While Matt and Mike were glumly sitting in their one room apartment, getting drunk on cheap beer, while Virgil Huxton was jamming his cock into the willing ass of his wife, a woman nearly thirty years his junior, Roger James was wondering if he could chance calling Nina Soo.

Their last break up had been a tearful one; Nina had even threatened suicide. Thankfully, she'd not followed through on that threat. But text messages were ignored. Voice mails were unanswered.

Roger felt that he had been right to start that discussion, the discussion that started the argument. They had gone to a party a professor was hosting and Nina had run into an old boyfriend.

At one point she disappeared; the old boyfriend had disappeared as well.

"I was in the bathroom!" Nina screamed.

"With Charlie?" Roger angrily accused.

"By myself! I have no idea where Charlie was; ask him," Nina sobbed.

Professor Elwell politely, but firmly asked them to leave and Roger snarled that Charlie could give Nina a ride home.

Roger even reached for his cell phone as Rebecca Durste, a cute red head with pneumatic breasts was energetically sucking on his cock.

Roger wasn't worried about offending Rebecca; the cheerleader was just trying to get a passing grade in his Algebra 101 class.

He had seen Nina the other day, cycling along, cute little buttocks in bike shorts pumping as she pedaled.

"Ever do it up the ass?" Roger asked Rebecca as he thought of Nina's cute bottom.

"I do it up the ass, I better get an A in that Algebra," Rebecca said, pulling her mouth off of Roger's cock.

"B's about the best you're going get," Roger snapped. "Ms. Durste, right now you got a solid forty three coming out of mid-terms.

THE END

*Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I do thank you for reading my stories. I especially thank those that rate my stories, take the time to leave comments.

I know the Burn the Bitch crowd will absolutely hate this story. Well, that's tough. Sometimes, the bitch doesn't get burned. Sometimes the bitch takes a good hard look at herself and decides to grow up. And sometimes the burned spouse becomes a bitter, vindictive person, unhappy, and making those around him unhappy.

Solve for U.