Christmas, Counseling & Cell Phones

Somewhat to my surprise, Darlene's relatives still hadn't moved. I'd expected that one of them would try to end this by now.

"Her favorite is 69—she tries to make me come before I can make her come, but usually I win. And she likes doggie-style a lot."

"Does she ever talk about me?" I asked.

"Sometimes. She says she loves you but she doesn't want to stop fucking me. 'The only cock I want is yours'—she's said that to me a bunch of times."

"When were you planning to get together next?"

"Tomorrow. She was going to tell you she had some work to take care of in the office. We were planning to be together for about three hours. We were looking forward to having more time for once. She told me she was going to fuck my eyes out, that she'd do me until I couldn't even walk."

"And how long do you think this affair was going to go on?"

He said, "probably a few more weeks. I would've been happy to keep going, but Darlene was talking about stopping. She said you'd insisted on counseling because your sex life had dropped off so much, and she was worried you'd figure out what was going on.

"She told me her New Year's Resolution was going to be to give me up—but then she laughed and said it might take her a few weeks to follow through on that."

There was silence in the room as Darlene's family gazed at us in shock—me, Darlene, Chris, all standing. Darlene sobbed into her hands, making no attempt to say anything.

I moved to Tom, taking his hand and shaking it. "So long, Tom. I've enjoyed being your son-in-law. You and Sarah are good people, and you deserve better than this cheating slut for a daughter. Of course, I deserved better than her for a wife, too."

I went to Sarah, gave her a kiss on the cheek and said, "bye Sarah. Sorry I won't be staying for dinner. It might be a little awkward."

Darlene had slumped to the floor. She was still crying, just sitting there, her hands over her face.

I bent over and said, "don't come home tonight, Darlene. Your stuff will be packed up outside the garage by tomorrow morning, and I'm changing the locks. Don't—I repeat, don't—try to talk with me. There's nothing you can say that I want to hear."

She looked up at me, her make-up streaked across her face. "Alan, honey, I..."

"I said DON'T!"

Without another word I turned back to the table, gave everyone a smile and a little wave, and headed out the door. Chris had the good sense not to ask me for a ride home.