Cum_Inside
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 8, 2017
- Posts
- 3,384
Harper was a woman who knew what she wanted. Well, if you had asked her that question six months ago she would have scoffed and confirmed that her life was in order down to the most minute details. Now, however, over the last few months, Brie's life was a mess of jumbled concerns and fears which made her question anything and everything she had once accepted as truth; in the dark of the night she laid awake and worked herself into an anxious stupor as she debated if she had made some enormous mistake. Brie twirled a glass of light, pink-tinged milky liquid absentmindedly on the far side of the bar and wondered where all that self-assurance had suddenly disappeared to.
Life had a much different perspective when she had been 23 and newly married to her husband Bryson.
He was one of the top consultants at an architectural firm and fairly well-to-do. Her parents expressed some discomfort when she first introduced him to the family due to his age difference and prior commitments to the children he had raised with his ex-wife (he was nigh on 40 when Brie met him), but his charming smile and exemplary family background made him a perfect candidate for their only daughter. Those concerns had been quickly washed away when he proposed and granted Brie a reasonably charmed life.
Four years later, Brie wondered if their whirlwind romance should ever have happened. It seemed that she spent most of her free time despondent and lonely lately when the couple should still be enjoying the fruits of their love and working to build a solid future together. Of course they would never have children, but Brie had been fine with that. She'd known before she married him, since the first time he took her into his bed and hitched her thighs up around his hips and slid inside her bare he proclaimed that he had been snipped after "that fucking bitch" took him to the cleaners for child support and held his children over him to make his life hellish. She was emotionally manipulative and Brie knew well just how monstrous of a woman she was but Bryson would have nothing to do with giving any woman another hold over him, so the vasectomy effectively eliminated any chance of that ever happening.
Brie had thought she would be fine living a life with no children. Four years later, she caught herself staring wistfully at her friends' kids as they laughed and played and tugged gently at Brie's hair, begging "auntie Bee" to join them as they dove and splashed in the pool whenever they'd come over for a visit. Bryson was always in the background but never present at these get-togethers. His own children were grown and he wanted nothing to do with the silliness of little tykes. It did kind of make her uncomfortable that she was barely older than his eldest boy (who was 21 this year) but she tried to ignore that.
She had been doing just fine with setting aside baby fever until he had started spending long nights "at the office" (or so he said). He was home very little lately and when he was, Brie could read the strain in his eyes and see the exhaustion settling into the pallor of his face. For a man who generally kept himself in decent shape for his age, Bryson was beginning to look every bit the forty-four-year-old man he was aging into.
Brie knew he wasn't working when he stayed out late. As a matter of fact, she was the one to pay the bills. She'd noticed his paycheques had taken a sharp decline in the last several months and that funds were a bit tighter despite her own well-paying full-time job. If Bryson was doing so much overtime at the firm, why didn't their bank account reflect that?
She wasn't stupid - rarely ever did he seem to want to engage in sex anymore, but maybe that was because he was always so frustrated and quiet when he finally slid into bed next to her near midnight most evenings. That, or he came home drunk. Bryson had to be fucking some other strumpet and it broke Brie's heart a little. Why wasn't she good enough?
She did everything she could to keep him happy. She cooked and cleaned, kept herself in peak physical condition through the dance classes she taught on top of her regular working schedule. Sometimes she even managed to go to the gym. She was nothing like the pathetic schoolgirl trembling in her boots for his attention like she had been once - when she met him, Brie was in the final year of her nursing degree and he was guest lecturing a class her friend Avery was taking on post-modernism architectural design. The other woman had gushed over him for days. Brie had thought she was exaggerating about his good looks until she literally plowed into him in the campus cafe four weeks later.
And that, as they say, was history.
Now, Brie fiddled with her wedding band and sipped at her drink as she pondered.
Bryson was never home. He could never give her children. He was likely having sex with someone else. Bills were starting to pile up as Bryson brought home less and less money each pay cycle. Something had to give.
But it wouldn't do to think on it any longer - she was just working herself into a tantrum the more her brain worked in circles. She'd come out for a drink (or two, or three) and planned to spend the night at her parents tonight. Bryson was out of town and their bed just felt so lonely with(out) him. That plus the fact that her parents only lived a few blocks from the busy downtown nightlife made it an easy choice.
It had been years since she had wandered into a quiet pub tucked away in one of the back alleys; in fact, it had been at least five or six years when she was still young and bright-eyed, living the university dream. At least back then she had friends she could talk to and go out with in the evenings. Now that she was married to Bryson, she rarely got to see the girls from uni. She only ever got to spend time with his friend group and they were all older, more... "sophisticated" than a simple girl like Brie. So here she was in a darkened bar all alone.
She didn't fit in with his crowd either. To them, Brie was the typical babyfaced harlot who had only married Bryson for his money. They didn't see that there was love there. No - nobody ever did. They especially didn't see that there was no money there anyway, if that had ever been a draw to her; spoiler - it wasn't.
Even Brie had trouble seeing that these days.
The fear that kept her up in the night stemmed from the sick voice whispering in her head that she had fallen out of love with her husband. The worst part was, she suspected he didn't feel the same for her, either.
Were they both just wasting their time?
Brie heaved a massive sigh and downed her drink. The ice cubes had melted and she twisted her lips up into a grimace, face crunching at the watered down taste of her Bailey's strawberry and cream. Polishing that one off, she ordered a second. This time she asked for it straight - no ice, thanks.
She didn't leave this one to wallow, either.
By the time she finished, her bladder was screaming at her. Brie let her feet settle on the floor and grabbed her clutch as she made her way to the bathroom. She stood there in front of the sink for a few minutes after the deed was done and just stared at herself, taking in the displeased look that seemed to have become a permanent fixture on her face.
"Ridiculous," she muttered, turning the taps on and washing her hands quickly. She spared a few minutes to scrub water down the sides of her face too, hoping to help ease the worry lines around her mouth. She was too young for this kind of mental exhaustion.
Returning from the washroom, Brie paused a few feet away from the bar.
The gentle hum of conversation hushed around her as she fixated on the spot where she had been sitting only minutes before. There was a gentleman in the seat she had vacated now, and all Brie could tell from this angle with his broad shoulders facing towards her was that he was very tall. Very well dressed, too; she could see the tailored fit of his ebony dress-shirt clinging to his tanned biceps and forearms from here, but the suit jacket laying on the bar beside him told her that this man was not one to be trifled with.
She watched as he raised his drink to his mouth, wide brown eyes catching on the crazy expensive watch glinting back at her from his left wrist. This man did not belong in a seedy bar like this. He looked like he'd just walked out of the pages of a magazine. Was there to be no end to the strange turn her life seemed to have taken? He was the last thing she expected to see in a hole-in-the-wall pub. She herself had chosen this place so as to not run into any of her acquaintances, but it seemed an odd setting for him.
Well.
It appeared as though this was a sign that she was done drinking for the eve. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be. There was no way a wealthy, attractive gentleman had somehow chosen to sit in the seat that may even still be radiating warmth from her rear in one of the more... quaint city bars that seemed to serve mostly gangbangers and those who were a little less affluent.
Still, it was a nice place despite its poor location and Brie supposed that the service was good enough to warrant certain clientele. Maybe it did make sense after all. It was quiet and private here.
Brie squared her own shoulders and made her way forward to pay off her tab. She came to a stop next to the mystery man and couldn't help but steal a glance at his face out of her periphery. She lost her breath -- he was fucking gorgeous! But that thought was banished almost as immediately as it had smacked her in the face.
Stop, she admonished herself, digging her debit card out of her wallet to pay. You're married!
There was a traitorous voice in the back of her head that whispered: no shit - but is it a crime to look? Your husband is probably dipping his dingle in another woman right now. Why can't you enjoy yourself too?
So she looked.
Brie met his eyes squarely.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Then it came to a crashing halt when the bartender interjected and said, "I'm sorry Ma'am. Your card is declined."
Brie's head whipped back around to face the bartender incredulously, mouth agape.
There was no way! Her pay had just been deposited on Wednesday; she hadn't paid any bills since. There should be a few thousand dollars in that account still!
Her fists clenched at her sides and her teeth grit in annoyance but her smile was sugary sweet when she popped open the billfold in her wallet and thumbed out enough cash to cover the tab and the tip. She always kept cash on her for emergency purposes, but two days after her pay had been deposited should never count for an "emergency."
She muttered under her breath, "Christ, Bry," because of course this had to be his fault. Had he made some big purchase that he hadn't told her about? Was the account overdrawn? She'd have some nasty words to exchange with him when she got home tomorrow, but under the haze of alcohol? Probably not a grand idea.
Brie asked herself: You know what else isn't a good idea?
That answer was abundantly clear when she pulled out the stool next to the mystery man and asked for another round, albeit in a very muted, embarrassed tone.
If there was one thing that always made her feel good... well, that was booze. She could drink her problems away like they had never been there in the first place.
Life had a much different perspective when she had been 23 and newly married to her husband Bryson.
He was one of the top consultants at an architectural firm and fairly well-to-do. Her parents expressed some discomfort when she first introduced him to the family due to his age difference and prior commitments to the children he had raised with his ex-wife (he was nigh on 40 when Brie met him), but his charming smile and exemplary family background made him a perfect candidate for their only daughter. Those concerns had been quickly washed away when he proposed and granted Brie a reasonably charmed life.
Four years later, Brie wondered if their whirlwind romance should ever have happened. It seemed that she spent most of her free time despondent and lonely lately when the couple should still be enjoying the fruits of their love and working to build a solid future together. Of course they would never have children, but Brie had been fine with that. She'd known before she married him, since the first time he took her into his bed and hitched her thighs up around his hips and slid inside her bare he proclaimed that he had been snipped after "that fucking bitch" took him to the cleaners for child support and held his children over him to make his life hellish. She was emotionally manipulative and Brie knew well just how monstrous of a woman she was but Bryson would have nothing to do with giving any woman another hold over him, so the vasectomy effectively eliminated any chance of that ever happening.
Brie had thought she would be fine living a life with no children. Four years later, she caught herself staring wistfully at her friends' kids as they laughed and played and tugged gently at Brie's hair, begging "auntie Bee" to join them as they dove and splashed in the pool whenever they'd come over for a visit. Bryson was always in the background but never present at these get-togethers. His own children were grown and he wanted nothing to do with the silliness of little tykes. It did kind of make her uncomfortable that she was barely older than his eldest boy (who was 21 this year) but she tried to ignore that.
She had been doing just fine with setting aside baby fever until he had started spending long nights "at the office" (or so he said). He was home very little lately and when he was, Brie could read the strain in his eyes and see the exhaustion settling into the pallor of his face. For a man who generally kept himself in decent shape for his age, Bryson was beginning to look every bit the forty-four-year-old man he was aging into.
Brie knew he wasn't working when he stayed out late. As a matter of fact, she was the one to pay the bills. She'd noticed his paycheques had taken a sharp decline in the last several months and that funds were a bit tighter despite her own well-paying full-time job. If Bryson was doing so much overtime at the firm, why didn't their bank account reflect that?
She wasn't stupid - rarely ever did he seem to want to engage in sex anymore, but maybe that was because he was always so frustrated and quiet when he finally slid into bed next to her near midnight most evenings. That, or he came home drunk. Bryson had to be fucking some other strumpet and it broke Brie's heart a little. Why wasn't she good enough?
She did everything she could to keep him happy. She cooked and cleaned, kept herself in peak physical condition through the dance classes she taught on top of her regular working schedule. Sometimes she even managed to go to the gym. She was nothing like the pathetic schoolgirl trembling in her boots for his attention like she had been once - when she met him, Brie was in the final year of her nursing degree and he was guest lecturing a class her friend Avery was taking on post-modernism architectural design. The other woman had gushed over him for days. Brie had thought she was exaggerating about his good looks until she literally plowed into him in the campus cafe four weeks later.
And that, as they say, was history.
Now, Brie fiddled with her wedding band and sipped at her drink as she pondered.
Bryson was never home. He could never give her children. He was likely having sex with someone else. Bills were starting to pile up as Bryson brought home less and less money each pay cycle. Something had to give.
But it wouldn't do to think on it any longer - she was just working herself into a tantrum the more her brain worked in circles. She'd come out for a drink (or two, or three) and planned to spend the night at her parents tonight. Bryson was out of town and their bed just felt so lonely with(out) him. That plus the fact that her parents only lived a few blocks from the busy downtown nightlife made it an easy choice.
It had been years since she had wandered into a quiet pub tucked away in one of the back alleys; in fact, it had been at least five or six years when she was still young and bright-eyed, living the university dream. At least back then she had friends she could talk to and go out with in the evenings. Now that she was married to Bryson, she rarely got to see the girls from uni. She only ever got to spend time with his friend group and they were all older, more... "sophisticated" than a simple girl like Brie. So here she was in a darkened bar all alone.
She didn't fit in with his crowd either. To them, Brie was the typical babyfaced harlot who had only married Bryson for his money. They didn't see that there was love there. No - nobody ever did. They especially didn't see that there was no money there anyway, if that had ever been a draw to her; spoiler - it wasn't.
Even Brie had trouble seeing that these days.
The fear that kept her up in the night stemmed from the sick voice whispering in her head that she had fallen out of love with her husband. The worst part was, she suspected he didn't feel the same for her, either.
Were they both just wasting their time?
Brie heaved a massive sigh and downed her drink. The ice cubes had melted and she twisted her lips up into a grimace, face crunching at the watered down taste of her Bailey's strawberry and cream. Polishing that one off, she ordered a second. This time she asked for it straight - no ice, thanks.
She didn't leave this one to wallow, either.
By the time she finished, her bladder was screaming at her. Brie let her feet settle on the floor and grabbed her clutch as she made her way to the bathroom. She stood there in front of the sink for a few minutes after the deed was done and just stared at herself, taking in the displeased look that seemed to have become a permanent fixture on her face.
"Ridiculous," she muttered, turning the taps on and washing her hands quickly. She spared a few minutes to scrub water down the sides of her face too, hoping to help ease the worry lines around her mouth. She was too young for this kind of mental exhaustion.
Returning from the washroom, Brie paused a few feet away from the bar.
The gentle hum of conversation hushed around her as she fixated on the spot where she had been sitting only minutes before. There was a gentleman in the seat she had vacated now, and all Brie could tell from this angle with his broad shoulders facing towards her was that he was very tall. Very well dressed, too; she could see the tailored fit of his ebony dress-shirt clinging to his tanned biceps and forearms from here, but the suit jacket laying on the bar beside him told her that this man was not one to be trifled with.
She watched as he raised his drink to his mouth, wide brown eyes catching on the crazy expensive watch glinting back at her from his left wrist. This man did not belong in a seedy bar like this. He looked like he'd just walked out of the pages of a magazine. Was there to be no end to the strange turn her life seemed to have taken? He was the last thing she expected to see in a hole-in-the-wall pub. She herself had chosen this place so as to not run into any of her acquaintances, but it seemed an odd setting for him.
Well.
It appeared as though this was a sign that she was done drinking for the eve. Her mind was playing tricks on her. It had to be. There was no way a wealthy, attractive gentleman had somehow chosen to sit in the seat that may even still be radiating warmth from her rear in one of the more... quaint city bars that seemed to serve mostly gangbangers and those who were a little less affluent.
Still, it was a nice place despite its poor location and Brie supposed that the service was good enough to warrant certain clientele. Maybe it did make sense after all. It was quiet and private here.
Brie squared her own shoulders and made her way forward to pay off her tab. She came to a stop next to the mystery man and couldn't help but steal a glance at his face out of her periphery. She lost her breath -- he was fucking gorgeous! But that thought was banished almost as immediately as it had smacked her in the face.
Stop, she admonished herself, digging her debit card out of her wallet to pay. You're married!
There was a traitorous voice in the back of her head that whispered: no shit - but is it a crime to look? Your husband is probably dipping his dingle in another woman right now. Why can't you enjoy yourself too?
So she looked.
Brie met his eyes squarely.
Her heart pounded in her chest.
Then it came to a crashing halt when the bartender interjected and said, "I'm sorry Ma'am. Your card is declined."
Brie's head whipped back around to face the bartender incredulously, mouth agape.
There was no way! Her pay had just been deposited on Wednesday; she hadn't paid any bills since. There should be a few thousand dollars in that account still!
Her fists clenched at her sides and her teeth grit in annoyance but her smile was sugary sweet when she popped open the billfold in her wallet and thumbed out enough cash to cover the tab and the tip. She always kept cash on her for emergency purposes, but two days after her pay had been deposited should never count for an "emergency."
She muttered under her breath, "Christ, Bry," because of course this had to be his fault. Had he made some big purchase that he hadn't told her about? Was the account overdrawn? She'd have some nasty words to exchange with him when she got home tomorrow, but under the haze of alcohol? Probably not a grand idea.
Brie asked herself: You know what else isn't a good idea?
That answer was abundantly clear when she pulled out the stool next to the mystery man and asked for another round, albeit in a very muted, embarrassed tone.
If there was one thing that always made her feel good... well, that was booze. She could drink her problems away like they had never been there in the first place.
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