Un-Selfish - Ch 1 (Patreon)

I'd like to introduce you all to a new short series that was recently commissioned. This is the first chapter and I'm excited to share it with you. This series is something fresh for me and I appreciate getting to work on it.

Enjoy.

Chapter 1

Scott stared at the last slide of his quarterly earnings presentation, fingers hovering over his keyboard. He was done. But he couldn’t get himself to commit. To finalize the presentation and send it. Usually, this wasn’t a problem. Overconfidence was a trait Scott had in spades. It’s what had gotten him up the corporate ladder so quickly. But it was also a costly trait.

He sat back, the ergonomic chair leaning back perfectly. Outside the floor to ceiling windows, the sky was dark, the stars drowned out by the city lights. New York really was the city that never slept. Lights always on. Cars always on the road. People swarming along the sidewalks, going to and from places unknown. Scott let his eyes drift over the city as he absently twisted the gold band on his ring finger. Even after two years, he was still wearing it. Hell, he’d never taken it off. Usually, just like his arrogant confidence, he had no trouble letting things go. If it wasn’t something that helped get him to the top, then it should have been easy to leave behind.

But Jean wasn’t someone you let go of easily.

Looking back at his computer, the screen bathing his face in a pale light that made him look like a ghost, he quickly saved his presentation and attached it to the email for tomorrow. He hit send before he could overthink and turned away from his computer. On his desk sat the invitation that had thrown off his normal concentration. It was thick cardstock, cream-colored with ornate calligraphy declaring the nuptials of Megan and Thomas. They were inviting him back to his old hometown in Indiana. He may not have been back for two years, but it was still home.

His house was there. The one he shared with Jean. The house he was still paying the mortgage on, even though he didn’t live there. 

Jean and he were separated by verbal agreement. No paperwork. No official declaration. Just a mutual decision when they couldn’t reconcile their differences. A fairly classic story when it came to estranged spouses.

He could still see the overgrown garden that Jean always said she was going to trim. The peeling paint on the porch. A solid home that they’d fallen in love with the moment they’d seen it. A home with multiple rooms. Enough for a home office and maybe room for another. For a little one.

Scott shook off the weight pressing against his chest, picking up the invitation and turning it over. It was requesting his presence. The wedding was in a month. But Thomas and Megan were never ones to do things simply. They wanted him to be part of the bridal party, or rather, Thomas wanted him to come and stand up on the stage with him as the best man. They were planning lots of fun activities for the wedding party two weeks before the actual big day. He didn’t have to attend, but he was being highly encouraged to join in the festivities.

The invitation mocked him. Not because ‌his old friends were getting happily married and wanted him to be a part of that happiness. It was because one of the bridesmaids was Jean. It felt targeted. Like Thomas and Megan were trying to force him to confront his wife. To force them into the same room. Or… maybe he was just looking too deeply into what amounted to a thoughtful invitation by some long-time friends he hadn’t seen in years.

He tapped the card on the desk thoughtfully, staring at the QR code to RSVP. 

His phone buzzed with a text from his boss, Garrett: "Great work on the presentation. Drinks on me tomorrow to celebrate the team's success."

Scott typed back a quick "Thanks!" before setting the phone down. The invitation remained in his hand, a decision waiting to be made. Return to Indiana and face his past? Or continue hiding in the relentless pace of New York City?

Shoving the invite back into its envelope, Scott picked his phone up and scrolled through his contacts. He needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off ‌the decision of whether he wanted to fly in and attend the wedding, to be part of the wedding party celebrations, and inevitably seeing his estranged wife, or simply toss the invite and forget the whole thing. He landed on one of his more frequent hookups, Charlotte.

“You up for a drink?” He texted.

It was only a minute before Charlotte replied. “Absolutely. Meet at McCourt’s in twenty?”

He confirmed and pocketed his phone, gathered up his things and quickly swept the invite into his messenger bag, heading out the door into the empty office. Often he was the first to arrive and the last to leave. It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do. No one was waiting at home for him… not in New York, anyway.

…

McCourt’s was on the Lower East Side, a popular spot for late night drinkers to waste a few hours before they inevitably had to go back to their lives. Scott didn’t like thinking he was one of those people that was avoiding his life, his empty apartment, but there wasn’t much use in denying the obvious.

His life was lonely. Not by choice, though. Jean was just too stubborn to see what an opportunity this was. How this job could have improved both of their lives. Instead, she insisted on staying in that small town in Indiana. A place where Scott felt stifled, restricted. New York was where he could spread his wings and succeed.

The taxi pulled up to the curb outside McCourt’s. Scott paid via the app on his phone and hurried into the bar, rain starting to fall in earnest, making the already dreary night worse. Inside was a long, polished bar with a myriad of liquor bottles stacked behind, along with several taps being used liberally by the bartenders. Opposite the bar was a wall lined with booths and tables in between, mostly full of lone patrons nursing their drinks like they were their only friend. In the far corner, a gorgeous woman with dark chestnut curls waved at Scott as he made his way through the maze of tables.

Charlotte wore leather pants that looked as if they were painted on, a shimmering silk crimson blouse, and makeup on point but not ostentatious enough to drown out her natural beauty. She was sipping ‌a martini, and there was a foaming glass of dark beer sitting across from her, ready for Scott. He slipped into the booth and quickly took a deep swig before leaning back with a sigh.

“Hard day?” Charlotte asked, lips glistening in the dim light as she smiled.

“Hard life.” He muttered, thinking back to the invitation. To Jean.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “So dramatic. Don’t try to pull sympathy from me, Mr. Dawson. I’ve heard all your dark little secrets, and whatever struggles you have are self-inflicted.” She sipped her martini, eyeing Scott over the rim of the glass.

“Do you ever pull the punches, Charlotte? I didn’t come here for a lecture on my life choices.” He held his beer in a tight grip, avoiding her judgment as he took another deep drink.

“No sugarcoating for me, honeybunch. I’m a booty call, not a therapist.” She chuckled, plucking the olive from her drink and seductively taking it between her teeth, pulling it off the toothpick and letting her crimson lips slide over it, making it vanish into her mouth.

Scott smiled, feeling his cock stir. “Fair. But you could at least be nice to me.”

Charlotte leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin resting in her hand. “Oh, honey, you and I both know that’s not a nice bone in my body.”

“At least not till we get back to my place.” Scott quipped.

“You think you’re nice?” Charlotte laughed, her breasts bouncing in her blouse beautifully.

He shrugged, staring down at his beer. “Like to think so.” 

“Well, I’ll give you that your cock is nice. But not sure about the rest of you. I could say you’re a decent guy. At least compared to some degenerates that have come up to me in a short time before you showed up. But…” She traced her finger along the rim of her glass. “Whether I think you’re nice or not matters less than if you think you’re a nice person. And looks like right now you don’t.”

Scott sighed, finishing off his beer in a deep gulp. “Yeah.”

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Charlotte moved from her side of the booth to sit next to Scott, pressing her hip against his and leaning close, fluttering her eyes. It looked like she was being the cliche flirt, which would mean she wasn’t actually listening to him divulge his problems. But Scott had known Charlotte for nearly a year now and knew she always listened, even if she wasn’t interested.

They were friends with benefits. But that didn’t mean they were lacking in either area.

“Got an invite to a wedding.” He said, hand going to Charlotte’s thigh, rubbing up and down over the leather.

“Oooo, sounds fun. Are you stressed about needing a plus one? I’d be happy to fill the role, as long as you’re footing the bill.” She giggled, her hand finding his thigh.

“It’s back in my hometown. Some friends of mine.”

She nodded, still listening even as her hand moved ‌higher on his thigh.

“They want me to be a groomsman.” He hesitated. “And my…ahem…my wife is one of the bridesmaids.”

Charlotte whistled. Scott’s marital status wasn’t a surprise to her. He’d been completely upfront with her when they’d met and started their arrangement. “So… tense, to say the least.” Her hand cupped his crotch. “I can definitely feel the tension.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah… Well, I may be stressed, but that doesn’t interfere with me when it comes to that.”

“That’s why I’m here then, isn’t it? Tense? Stressed. I’m an outlet.” She winked, her hand moving higher, between his legs and caressing the growing bulge there. “And I’m more than happy to be a stress reliever. Lord knows I’ve had a hard day too. Letting loose is what the doctor ordered.”

“Then do you wanna stay for another drink or head back to my place?” He downed the rest of his drink, shifting to look more directly at Charlotte, glancing down her blouse.

“I’m sufficiently lubricated with alcohol…and other things.” She winked and squeezed his bulge. “We can go to your place. I can’t stay over though, I’ve got an early shift at the hospital so I need my proper beauty sleep and your mattress is like a brick.”

Slipping out of the booth, Charlotte pulled Scott with her, keeping hold of his hand as they made their way towards the exit. She swayed her hips seductively, her breasts giggling gently in her blouse, catching several people’s attention and a few winks and thumbs up to Scott as they passed. They envied him. After he left they’d probably whisper about how lucky he was. And they weren’t wrong.

But it felt hollow. Charlotte was amazing in more ways than one. Her body was a ten, no question. Intelligent too. She was the complete package. But deep down, Scott knew she wasn’t what he wanted. She was a fun distraction. A decent friend. Someone who wouldn’t bullshit him. And definitely a good sexual partner. But she wasn’t the person who was going to cuddle with him on cold nights. Nurse him when he was sick. Whose smile would brighten his day.

All of those things were miles and miles away. In a home he’d left, unsure if he’d ever be back. Or if the woman who was there would even want him back.

It made his stomach twist, a malaise washing over him that threatened to send him spiraling into a drunken stupor.

Scott shrugged it off as he and Charlotte stepped out into the brisk city night. Gripping her hand, he pulled her back against him and pressed his lips against hers, hard and insistent. Charlotte melted into him, her hand grabbing his crotch, pressing her breasts to his chest and licking her tongue along his teeth and lips.

“Someone’s eager.” She chuckled, pulling away and resuming her towards the curb, waving down a taxi.

Eager was putting it lightly. Scott needed the bliss of mindless fucking. He needed out of his head. Away from his emotions. He just wanted to be in that blissful nothing that came with pleasure and passion. Anything to forget how much he was beginning to think that he’d made a mistake and lost something beyond valuable.

They slipped into the cab that drove up to the curb, rattled off Scott’s address, and resumed losing themselves in each other with deep kisses and erotic touches that made the cabby envious.

…

Scott watched as Charlotte strolled confidently into his bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she went, pulling it off and tossing it to the floor. The bra she wore was black lace, nothing overly erotic, but her dark nipples were clearly pushing through the thin material as she sat on the edge of the bed, bouncing with a playful smile. She crooked a finger at him, “Come on over, big boy, let’s get things started.”

Without needing any other encouragement, Scott came to stand in front of her, pulling his shirt off and watching as Charlotte skillfully unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped and pulled down his pants and boxers, exposing his sizable erection. Without hesitation, she took it in her grip and brought her beautiful lips to the head, sliding them over and then open and swallowing down the first couple inches. Her mouth was moist, warm, tongue lashing at his frenulum as she slowly dragged her lips along him, back and forth, warming him up and getting her throat ready to take him.

Scott groaned, hands going to her hair, gripping gently as she swallowed more, moving up and down with practiced familiarity.

Charlotte sucked slow and deep, tongue twisting and lapping at his sensitive skin, hand cupping his balls, squeezing them almost possessively. Scott pushed the straps of her bra down, pulling the cups off her jiggling breasts as her mouth moved up and down, pressing his cock head against the back of her throat. Gwak Gwak Gwak.

Palming her tits, Scott let his mind drift away in the sea of pleasure, forgetting about weddings and marriages. He focused on Charlotte’s mouth. Her lips gliding over his shaft, spit beginning to bubble and drip down his shaft, along his balls and over her chin. The woman wasn’t afraid to get messy. In fact, that was how she preferred it.

“Shit!” he groaned, pinching Charlotte’s nipple as she swallowed his whole length, nose pressed to his pubic hair, flexing her throat so that it squeezed his cock.

“Mmmmmm.” Charlotte groaned around him, pulling off with a sloppy pop. “You ready for me?” She asked, grinning up at him as she continued stroking his slick cock.

“Fuck Charlotte.” Was Scott’s answer.

“Oh, I certainly hope so.” She laughed, scooting up further onto the bed. Wiggling her hips, she pushed her pants down, taking her skimpy red thong with her so that her full sex was exposed. It had dark curly hair framing her pouting, slick lips. Charlotte opened her legs, propping herself up on her elbows to stare at Scott expectantly.

“Well? Slip a rubber on and let's get to it. I’ve been horny all day.” She grinned.

Scott grabbed a condom from his nightstand, something he’d taken to keeping after his split with Jean. It struck him that it’d been two years now since he’d slid inside a woman bare. He hadn't promised Jean anything when he left. They’d been clear that, though it was just a separation, not a full divorce—at least not yet—that they were free to indulge their needs. Talk of condoms hadn’t even come up.

But he’d stuck with always wrapping himself up. For safety sure. It was the responsible thing to do. But also… maybe because…

He shook off the thought and rolled the lubed condom onto his cock, crawling onto the bed and between Charlotte’s open legs. An invitation… just like the one waiting for his reply.

Their lips met just as his tip touched her opening. Her tongue slid into his mouth, and his cock pressed and sank inside her waiting tunnel, causing her to moan and bite his lip. They moved fast, hard. Scott pounded into Charlotte’s pussy, her slick lips gliding over him, thick cream foaming and gathering at his base from her eager arousal. Juices matted her pubic hair, creating slick, sticky splashes as Scott fucked her.

Charlotte wrapped her legs around Scott’s waist and lay back, arms over her head, letting her tits bounce. “Fuuuuuck yes…like that… harder…fuck me harder, baby. Get rid of all that fucking frustration. Ram it in my pussy, baby,” she moaned, licking her luscious lips and watching him with lustful eyes.

Scott grunted, his hips slamming into her, hand propping himself up on either side of her while he thrust. They bounced on the bed, bodies slapping and meeting with wet intent.

“God yes. Fuck! Ohhhh fuck me Scott. Use that dick.” Charlotte moaned, grabbing her tits and pushing them together, thumbs circling her nipples as her ass bounced on the bed, meeting Scott’s downward thrusts.

“Fuck. Fuck squeeze it!” he groaned, watching the woman beneath him take the pleasure he was giving. It was good sex. Fantastic. Her pussy was burning and silky soft. So wet and juicy it always left his balls sticky and his bed with a large wet spot. And that was when she didn’t squirt. If he pounded long and hard enough, Charlotte would become a hydrant and soak his bed. It was intense and he couldn’t get enough, pushing her legs up to fold her over and slamming down harder, his balls slapping her ass as if spanking her for being a bad girl.

But something was missing. Fuck, why did he have to keep thinking about the wedding? About Jean. It was beyond infuriating.

“Yes!” Charlotte screamed. “Like that! Fuck me like that! Harder. You’re angry. Fuck your anger in my tight little cunt!”

Scott obliged, roaring and thrusting like a madman. Funneling his anger and frustration down to his hips and his erection. Jamming himself deeply into Charlotte’s core and making her buck and scream as her orgasm crashed into her.

“Fuckmefuckme! I’m cumming! Fuckfuck fuck!” She grabbed the sheets, seeking a lifeline as her pussy spasmed around Scott’s dick, juices freely flowing, making his slapping balls sound like they were at a water volleyball tournament. Splash, splat, splack. They hit over and over, spreading the large wet spot on his bed wider.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna…” Scott groaned, feeling his balls tighten.

“On my face! Fucking cum on my face!” She practically screamed.

In a rush, Scott pulled out and ripped the condom off. They moved together so Scott stood over her and Charlotte’s face was right in front of his pulsing cock as his orgasm hit like a lightning strike. His thick, creamy cum shot out and straight into Charlotte’s eye, then all over her face and cheeks, dripping down the bridge of her nose and chin. She licked her lips when splashes and jets plastered them, tasting his cream and moaning as his last couple of shots hit her forehead.

“Mmmm, fuck.” She groaned and fell back with a laugh, her left eye plastered shut by a thick glob of cum. Carefully wiping the semen away, she licked her finger and opened her eyes, fully smiling at Scott as he stumbled and lay down on the bed. “Feel better?” She asked, watching her as she continued to scoop up the cum on her face and lick it clean off her fingers.

Scott hesitated, laying back and letting his post nut clarity wash over him. The sex was good. As always. And given a little time, he could probably go another round. But Charlotte said she had to be up early, and he was already exhausted from his long day at work. Add into the mix his emotions about the wedding and his estranged wife and… that didn’t make for an easy comeback.

“Yeah,” he finally muttered, watching as Charlotte scooted her lovely ass off the bed, bouncing luscious globes that swayed and jiggled as she headed to his bathroom.

“Gonna take a quick shower to rinse your spunk off, then I gotta head out, unless you wanna eat some pussy before I go.” It was a casual offer, almost like asking if Scott wanted a drink rather than to taste the lovely valley between her legs.

He didn’t answer, just listened as she turned on the shower and began rinsing off the sweat and cum from their tryst.

After catching his breath, Scott got out of bed and went to the living room, his cock swaying and still messy from his ejaculation. He pulled ‌the invitation from his bag and looked it over again. It was the typical invitation to a wedding, with an attached note requesting he be a groomsman and come to the festivities they had planned beforehand. Roping him into helping with the wedding preparations.

He saw Jean’s face as he stared at the invite. How was she? They hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words to each other in the last two years, and that was only when they needed information regarding finances and the like. Was she doing okay? After he’d left, he knew Jean’s job wasn’t going to be enough to pay all the bills. That’s why he’d continued paying the mortgage on the house. He may have abandoned his marriage, but he wasn’t a monster.

So what was Jean doing now? Did she still have the same job at that accounting firm? Was she doing something else? She hadn’t asked for money or even hinted that she was struggling this past year.

And why did that bother him? Jean being self-sufficient was a good thing. But that also meant she didn’t need him. That it was less likely she’d swallow her pride and finally come to New York and be with him. Be the wife he wanted.

He sat on his couch, staring at the invitation. Maybe this was a good chance to go back, an excuse. See how she was doing. Maybe convince her to come back with him. He missed her. They’d been together almost all their lives. Friends when kids. Sweethearts in highschool. Engaged in college and married shortly after. They were supposed to be the magical, heartwarming couple everyone wanted to be. But now they were so far apart.

Scott grabbed his phone from his bag and quickly scanned the QR code on the invite. It brought him to an RSVP page, this one unique to him with a checkbox for being a groomsman and a list of duties and a schedule that he’d have to follow if he was going to take on the responsibility. He stared at the page, thumb hovering over the Accept box.

“I changed my mind!” Charlotte called from the bedroom. “Come eat my ass before I go!”

The sudden demand distracted Scott, his thumb tapping the button. A big burst of confetti displayed across the screen, and a declaration of “Can’t Wait To See You!” flashed in a big, colorful font.

Scott stared at the screen again for a long moment before sighing, putting it down, and getting up from the couch. It was done. He was going. If nothing else, he’d go and have a good time with some old friends and then come back home. No need to overthink.

With that, he marched back into his bedroom. Charlotte was already on the bed, her ass in the air, pulling her cheeks open to expose her dark ring. “Come on, big boy, I don’t have all night.” She laughed.

…

Two Weeks Later

Scott walked into the convention space Megan and Thomas had reserved at the local Holiday Inn, the very same one they’d reserved rooms for the incoming wedding party to stay at—unless they were local. Like Jean.

The room was your typical space for various sorts of events like company meetings and reunions, which Scott figured this meeting was most closely associated with. A reunion of friends… and possibly more?

Everyone else had already arrived. Besides the bride and groom, there were two other men and two other women in the room. Scott recognized Barry Mitchell—whom he’d gone to school with almost his entire life—and Peter Benson, Scott had met him a few times over the years. He and Thomas had met in college. The girls were a bit more obscure, but Scott managed to dredge up their names from his memory. Sarah Beth Herron and Brittney Adams. Girlfriends of Megan’s, though Scott wasn’t sure exactly where they had met each other.

Thomas saw Scott from the far end of the room where everyone was gathered and waved a hand high, excusing himself from the group and jogging over to envelop Scott in a tight hug.

“There you are, you son-of-a-bitch. I honestly wasn’t sure you’d actually come.” Thomas was a big man in every respect. Tall. Bulky. And a larger-than-life personality that went along with the big body.

“I RSVP’d didn’t I?” Scott laughed, patting his friend’s bulging shoulder. Thomas had a habit of wearing clothes that fit him just a bit too tight to show off the natural muscle he was so proud of. It made him look rugged and definitely got him a lot of looks from the ladies, though these days he only had eyes for one, and she was standing with the group in a lovely floral dress, dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

“Sure, sure,” Thomas patted Scott on the back, making him stumble a bit. “But I know things are kinda…awkward here with you and…” He halted, something very uncharacteristic of Thomas. He was usually very blunt and outspoken. But if he was being quiet, then it meant he really was trying to be sensitive to the situation.

“You can say her name, Thom. Jean. It’s not like she’s Bloody Mary, gonna appear and murder us.” Scott tried to sound light, unbothered, but even he knew the strain in his voice at the mention of his estranged wife was undeniable.

“Right. Well. Hopefully you two can put whatever issues you’re having aside for our wedding. I know she looks small, but Megan is a fucking fierce mama when it comes to things going her way. And this is her wedding. You ruin it and I ain’t going to pull you away from her fangs and claws. You hear me?” His grin was wide, but his eyes were serious.

“Noted. I won’t make any waves. Promise.” Though Scott wasn’t sure exactly how things were going to go. He knew he could be civil with Jean. They were adults. They could put aside their situation and be friendly for their friends. It wasn’t like they were asking him and Jean to be lovey-dovey. They were just Best Man and maid of honor. That was it. They’d probably have to take some pictures. Coordinate things on the wedding day. Just small logistical things.

“Speaking of…uh, where is Jean?” Scott looked back at the group. Jean was conspicuously absent. 

“Oh. She couldn’t make it this morning. Had some work thing scheduled that she couldn’t put off. But she promised she’d meet us for dinner tomorrow night.” Thomas threw it out like it was no big deal, but there was something in his tone that made Scott wonder what Jean was up to. Was she just not ready to see him? Did she need a little more time?

He couldn’t really fault her if she wasn’t ready to confront him. Scott was the one who left. Jean stayed. There were two sides to every coin, and Scott knew that Jean looked at their situation as him ‘abandoning’ her. But he viewed it as her stubbornly refusing to follow him.

The sigh he let out was deep and frustrated, but Thomas pretended not to notice.

“Alright, you ready to go say hi to everyone and get this started?” Thomas gripped Scott’s shoulder, giving him a sympathetic and genuinely concerned quirk of his eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’m good. Let go,” Scott smiled, but it felt fake.

…

Maplewood, Indiana hadn’t changed much since Scott left. They still had shitty cell service. His calls kept coming in static-y and dropping. Internet wasn’t much better. He couldn’t believe that this town still only had 4G service. Was that still a thing?

The hotel had decent Wi-Fi and a business center that he could work in if he needed, but it felt stifling to just stay in his room or cooped up in a room that had computers a decade old. They could have had fiber connection, and it still would have taken an hour to download a single email on those machines. So Scott took his laptop and headed downtown, where there was a string of shops and restaurants. There were a couple of places he could make camp: a coffee shop (not a chain) and a couple of cafes that didn’t mind people lingering as long as you continued to order something.

Scott parked near Corner Coffee, the local coffee place on the corner of Main Street and 1st. It liked to boast that it was the epicenter of Maplewood. They weren’t completely wrong. With no famous chains nearby, this was the place to be to get some good coffee and pastries. There were a few cheaper options in the strip malls further down Main, but this was where you went if you wanted more than just your typical bulk bought brews.

Looking through the windows, Scott could see that it was already fairly busy. Most of the tables were taken, though there was a decent amount of free tables outside. It was only a little chilly, so he figured it wouldn’t be all that bad to sit and enjoy the outdoors, especially since there wouldn’t be tons of honking horns, billowing exhaust, and the shadow of towering buildings that practically blocked out any sight of the sun or even the sky.

Maplewood was on the small side. None of the buildings downtown went higher than three stories. The skies were open and blue. You could sit and enjoy the day. Trees lined the streets, adding to the quaint feel and hometown vibe that they were always trying to emphasize to gain some tourism during the holidays.

Before Scott could open the door, it came bursting open. Scott took a quick step back, not wanting to run into the person who clearly wasn’t paying attention. They were looking down at their phones, typing with their thumbs and holding a large, cold coffee in their other hand.

Scott froze.

It wasn’t some random person. It was Jean. His wife.

She stopped in front of him, clearly sensing someone was there but not looking up from her phone. “Sorry. ‘Scuse me.” She muttered, trying to sidestep around Scott.

“Jean.” Just saying her name made his heart hurt. She was still as beautiful as the first time he’d ever seen her from across the cafeteria in grade school. Her hair was a fiery red, worn long past her shoulders. With a very slim build, Jean was a tiny woman compared to most people, but sturdy and well muscled. She’d been doing Pilates and yoga practically her entire life. The woman was crazy flexible and strong. Her face was a constellation of light freckles along a small nose, light pink lips, a small A cup chest and narrow waist. Her nickname at school had been Firefox. Not wholly original, but it fit.

His wife stopped, eyes growing wide as she let her phone drop to her side, finally lifting her gaze to meet Scott’s own. They were more than a foot apart in height, but Scott always felt small in her presence. “S…Scott?” Her voice trembled, and the ice in her coffee clacked and clicked with a tremor from her grip.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like that adolescent boy again, coming up to the beautiful redhead at school with the tiniest bit of courage and stupidity, hoping to ask for a date.

She blinked. Took a step back. “Wh…what are you doing here?” She took a drink of her coffee, trying to hide her discomfort.

Scott hesitated, letting his eyes rove over his wife’s figure. She wore a tight tank top, her pink sports bra showing through as it clung to her small chest. Her yoga pants were thin and slick, a dark burnt orange that were riding low on her hips and flashing a little bit of the waistband of her panties, purple lace. Scuffed sneakers completed the outfit, along with her hair sweaty and pulled back in a ponytail.

She looked stunning. Even clearly having just come from a workout, she was radiant and blazing in her beauty. It made Scott’s blood burn, his heart pounding faster and faster.

Clearing his throat again, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets to hide how sweaty they were. “Megan and Thom’s wedding.” He said simply.

Jean tilted her head back and sighed. “Right. Fuck, I’ve been so busy I forgot. Not the wedding, but…” She looked back at him again.

“Me,” Scott replied sadly.

“Uh… I mean I didn’t… I didn’t forget…it just slipped my mind that you were gonna be the best man… that you’d be… here.” She bit her lip and looked down again, maybe embarrassed about possibly having admitted that she’d forgotten about her husband. Maybe just uncomfortable about being in the presence of the man she professed to love, but instead of following him towards his dreams, had stayed behind.

“It’s… yeah, I get it. I’ve been so busy with work that I’m not sure I’m gonna be able to do all this stuff Thom and Meg have planned.” He ran a hand through his brown hair. “I was planning on grabbing some coffee and getting some work done before ‌dinner tonight.”

“Right. The dinner.” She nodded, holding her coffee in both hands, looking away again, afraid to meet his eyes.

“You’re gonna be there, right?”

“Of course.”

“I just thought… because of… me…” Scott messed with the strap of his messenger bag, twisting it in his anxious grip.

The look on Jean’s face made Scott’s breath catch. It was the look she would give when he’s been a true ass. The look that was the twisting skies and howling winds before the full raging storm.

“You being here isn’t going to drive me away from my Maid of Honor duties.” The grip she had on her coffee made Scott wonder if she was going to squeeze and make the whole concoction explode.

“Right. But… yesterday…”

“I had work. An appointment I couldn’t miss.” She said flatly, though her cheeks got slightly pink when she said it.

“Are you still working at Parker Accounting?”

“No.” It was another simple, flat response. Didn’t Scott have the right to know what his wife was doing for a living? How she was paying her bills? Seemed pretty rude to answer so sparsely.

“Alright.” Scott muttered, getting frustrated. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to whatever it is you need to do.” He looked her over again. She looked like she was dressed for the gym. Did she work nights? From home? Did it matter? She wasn’t asking him for money, even though his job was paying him extremely well. He’d hoped that once he got established, and after Jean was on her own for a while, that she’d see the light and come to New York.

Whatever she was doing, she didn’t need him. Or at least that’s how she was making it seem.

“Right. Good to see you, Scott. I’ll see you at the dinner tonight.” Jean stepped to the side and without another look, marched off down the street, beautiful tiny ass swaying.

Scott watched her behind moving for much longer than he cared to admit before shaking off the encounter and walking into the coffee shop, wondering if maybe they’d be willing to spike his drink with some bourbon.

…

Tender Cuts was the fanciest restaurant in town. Though Maplewood was small, it wasn’t far away from some of the more affluent cities, and Tender Cuts was smack dab in the middle between them. Just far enough out of town to make you feel like you were going somewhere special, but close enough you could make the drive in an hour, baring any bad weather or traffic.

Scott pulled into the parking lot and handed his keys to the valet. He’d settled for wearing dark dress jeans, a light blue button up and jacket. Casual but refined. Walking into the restaurant, the hostess led him to the reserved room for the bridal party. Thomas waved him in and handed him a beer, clinking his own against the one he gave Scott.

“So, heard you ran into Jean this morning.” He said casually, eyes on Scott as he took a drink.

“When did Maplewood become one of those small towns where gossip travels faster than a tweet?” Scott muttered, recalling the run in with his wife and how awkward and frustrating it had been. Not the reunion he’d been picturing.

“Hardly. Our wedding planner was at Corner Coffee grabbing some much needed caffeine. That woman hardly sleeps. Wouldn’t surprise me if she were some sort of vampire that can walk during the day. Anyway, according to her, she saw Jean have some sort of awkward confrontation with a stranger. Didn’t take long to figure out it was you.”

Scott sighed and took a deep drink of his beer. “It wasn’t… all that bad. We just surprised each other.”

Thomas nodded. “Yeah. I get that. Are you guys even on speaking terms?”

“It’s not like we aren’t.” He tapped his nails against the beer bottle. “Just… giving each other space.”

“Maplewood to NYC is a fucking lot of space.”

“Are you gonna be sticking your nose in our business the whole time, or could we maybe just shelve the topic and focus on giving you and Megan a great wedding experience?”

With a boisterous laugh, Thomas patted Scott on the back. “Fair, fair, buddy. I’ll shut up. But I’m here to talk if you want. Just want you guys to be okay.”

Scott sighed. “Yeah. I appreciate it.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

With one last pat on the back, Thomas went to make his rounds, talking to the other members of the bridal party and checking on his fiance. Scott stayed by the entry, hands in his pockets, feeling like the wallflower at the dance. Something he’d been pretty familiar with back in grade school.

“Are you attempting to hide?”

He stiffened and turned, the sound of Jean’s voice sending conflicting signals, only further complicated by the dress his wife was wearing. It was a sleek, blue strapless dress, silky and shiny, that went down to mid thigh. As slim as she was, the dress was fitted just right so that it accentuated the curves she did have. Dark stockings encased her firm legs, and her heels gave her a couple more inches. She’d curled her hair so that it fell in gentle waves over one shoulder. Her makeup was subtle, but made her green eyes pop.

Scott’s cock reacted immediately. Overriding his logical, mature brain and pushing his imagination into overdrive. He could easily picture her without the dress. Standing before him in nothing but ‌stockings and heels. Even after two years, the memory of Jean’s naked body was fresh. Smooth, creamy skin. Tight stomach. Beautiful small tits. The tight muscles of the V along her waist leading down to the puffy lips of her innie slit. She often kept it nicely trimmed, a soft sprinkle of light red hair all along her pussy. Did she still keep it that way?

“Scott. My eyes are up here.” Jean snapped her fingers in front of him, gesturing for him to drag his eyes from staring at her crotch.

“I…s…sorry.” He blushed.

To his surprise, Jean chuckled. “Well, I guess I can let it pass. We are married. And it has been a while.” Her cheeks colored as well, folding her hands in front of her, subtly flashing her wedding ring.

She was still wearing it.

Just like he was.

What did that mean? Did it mean anything at all? So many questions bubbled up in his mind, but they never found their way to his mouth.

“About this morning.” Jean cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about being so… curt. It was a busy morning, and you caught me by surprise. I know you weren’t trying to be rude…”

“It’s okay.” Scott interrupted softly. “I… wasn’t very courteous either.”

“Big word. Learn that in the big city?” She grinned at him. It was dazzling. Her lips were a pearlescent red.

“Guess I deserve that.” He shoved his hands into his pockets again. That feeling of being a wallflower washed over him again. Like he was waiting for someone to notice that he was alone and have mercy on him.

His eyes darted to Jean, her gaze still on her with a thoughtful expression. “So you didn’t answer me before.” She said, “Are you trying to hide? It’s a small room. Not a lot of people. I don’t think you can escape being social.”

The other bridal party members were all laughing and talking on the far side of the room next to the small bar that had been provided to serve drinks for their dinner. No one had called for them to sit yet, so there was still time to socialize and drink before the night started in earnest.

Was he trying to hide? Yesterday he’d barely interacted with any of the other groomsmen or bridesmaids. He did the bare minimum. Answering questions. Small talk. Listening intently to the duties that were going to be given and the activities that they were all going to participate in during the weeks before the wedding. It had felt a lot like one of his corporate retreats, complete with team building activities and trust exercises.

“It’s just been a while.” Scott admitted. The feeling of not belonging was palpable. He hadn’t talked or associated with these people much, even before he moved. Before he and Jean had separated. Getting thrown into this situation was more than awkward, it was anxiety inducing.

Jean touched his arm. “Need a minute?” She motioned with a small nod toward the back patio of the restaurant.

Scott nodded, realizing that he was starting to shake. To sweat. He hadn’t had a panic attack in a long time, not since those first months of being in New York. In a new apartment. At a new job. Alone. Before that, he’d had a handful of times that his anxiety got the better of him and he felt trapped. Fenced in, inside his own body. Like he was in a trash compactor, the walls slowly closing in, threatening to crush him completely.

Without a word, Jean slipped her arm through his and led him back through the door and out through the glass patio doors. There was a small outdoor area reserved for more romantic dining. A garden and trees circling the space with twinkling lights strung overhead. No one was outside, leaving Jean and Scott alone.

“Thanks.” Scott muttered, slipping his jacket off and cringing at the evidence of pit stains. Thankfully, it hadn’t gotten to the point where he was drenched and smelling like someone being interrogated for a crime.

Jean chuckled. “Was that all because you were afraid to talk to everyone? Or me?”

“Both.” He sighed, then shrugged. “You’re intimidating. And I was afraid you’d show up and rip me a new one.”

Taking a few steps towards the well trimmed shrubs, Jean touched the leaves as she rolled her eyes. “Scott. Come on. We can be…mature about this. I’m not gonna chew you out. Especially in front of the bride and groom. If you think I’m bad, getting on Megan’s shit list would make the FBI’s most wanted seem miniscule.” She looked back at him, the twinkling lights shining behind her like tiny fireflies attracted to her beauty.

Scott had to restrain himself from going and kissing her. The draw was strong. Overwhelming. For the first time since leaving, he wondered if maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe he should have fought for her more. Tried to compromise. Done something, anything, to keep her by his side. But even as determined as he was about the move and the job, he couldn’t bring himself to say that he was wrong.

“So, how’s New York?” She asked it quietly, as if the answer didn’t matter. But the set of her shoulders and tightening of her jaw told Scott that it did matter.

“It’s… uh, loud.” That got a grin from Jean, one that Scott was able to match. He pulled at his shirt, trying to air out his pits and get them to dry. The panic he’d been feeling had quickly dissipated once they were outside in the open.

“Well, I could have told you that. Are you getting along well? Making friends? Or are you still just going back and forth to work?”

It was a jab, but not a very cruel one.

“I get out from time to time.” Part of him considered telling her about Charlotte. To jab her back so she could feel some guilt as well for staying in this small town rather than come with her husband to bigger and better things.

She nodded. “Well, as long as you’re happy. I guess it’s fine.” She plucked at a leaf thoughtfully as silence started to seep in.

“So, you’re not working in accounting anymore?” He stepped closer, folding his jacket over his arm, watching Jean closely. The movement of her arm, her shoulders, the smooth pulse along her neck, a place he’d used to kiss when he wanted to get her excited.

“I’m doing some… freelance work.” She looked away, plucking the leaf and twisting it between her fingers. “Pays better. Make my own hours for the most part. Less stressful.” None of those details made it any more clear what his wife was doing for a living. But she obviously didn’t want to talk about work. It was a sore subject, and Scott figured that was his fault.

He’d left her for a job. Gone to New York for work. Not because he needed to, but because he wanted to. He wanted to climb high and fast. Make the big bucks and have the massive impact on the world that he wasn’t getting to do in Maplewood. Scott had been sure Jean would understand. That she’d be on board and gladly follow him to glory and success.

Instead, she was here. And he was there.

Separate.

“Think we should go back in? Everyone might think we’ve snuck off for a quickie.” Scott grinned.

Jean looked back at him incredulously, but still smiling. “You mean like at Dawson’s birthday? When we crammed ourselves into that tiny closet?”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, well, we fit well enough.”

“I never told you…” She paused, her eyes lighting up. “You didn’t actually get inside.”

“What?” Scott stood a bit straighter, confused.

She was snickering. “It was so cramped and you pulled my panties aside and pushed between my thighs. But you didn’t get in. You just rubbed over my lips and thighs. I was so wet I guess you thought you’d gotten in. I just ended up squeezing my thighs together until you came. All up my butt crack.”

Scott stared back at his wife, mouth open in shock. “Seriously?”

Jean covered her mouth, trying to hold back an outright cackle. “Yeah. I had to sit at the table with your cum all up in my crack. When we got home, it was like my cheeks were glued shut. I had to peel them apart before I could even clean myself up.”

Slumping down in one of the chairs at the outdoor tables, Scott groaned, embarrassed. “Fuck. Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged, waving a hand in front of her to cool ‌the heat in her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

“But you moaned? You said you came,” he glared at her. “Were you faking?”

Jean sighed. “I didn’t fake it. When I felt you shoot against my asshole, I came. Not like I would have if you’d actually been fucking me. But still nice.”

Scott sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Geez. Wait… I guess that makes some sense. Wasn’t it after the party that you started getting curious about anal?”

Now it was Jean’s turn to blush. She bit her lip and looked away with an exaggerated look of innocence. “Maybe.” She muttered and waved as if trying to dismiss the conversation.

“Hey you two!” Barry was standing at the door, waving at them. “Get in here. We are gonna start dinner.”

Jean nodded and looked back at Scott. “Well? You ready to go back inside? Or do you need a little more time?”

Standing up, Scott checked under his arms—they weren’t completely dry, but close enough—and put his jacket back on. “Yeah. Let’s get back in there. This conversation is gonna make me question a great deal of my sex life if we keep talking.”

They laughed together as they walked back inside. “You don’t need to worry about that, Scott. You never disappointed.” Jean patted his arm. “I’ve gotta go powder my nose real quick.” She turned from him and headed to the restroom, heels clicking and hips swaying in the tight dress like a mesmerizing pendulum.

Scott watched her go again, enchanted by her backside. Once she vanished around the corner, he took a deep calming breath and turned back towards the dining room where everyone was starting to find their seats.

“Mr. Wilder?”

Scott turned at the voice, recognizing it but hardly expecting to see the person it belonged. Back when Scott and Jean were together, Dylan was the college boy next door, coming home for the summer and lounging around. Sometimes he’d done yard work for them. Mostly he was your typical frat boy jock—tall, muscled, sandy hair that swayed and swooped in mesmerizing waves, and a charming smile—but still a decent enough neighbor. He stayed out late but never came back in a loud drunken stupor. He’d have friends over, but they never got rowdy. Whenever he did odd jobs for them, he worked hard and did it without complaint.

Truthfully, Scott had forgotten all about Dylan until he heard him and turned to face him. He’d grown a little taller, had fashionable stubble, and his hair was actually combed and tamed. Dressed in dark pants and a white button down and black vest, it was easy to figure out that Dylan must be a server. Either that, or he’d chosen his wardrobe very poorly for visiting Tender Cuts.

“Hey, Dylan,” Scott said after a second of hesitation. “What are you doing here?”

He plucked at his vest. “You’re looking at one of the most popular waiters at Tender Cuts.” He grinned wide. “It’s been a while, Mr. Wilder. Are you back in town for the wedding?”

“Uh, yeah. You know about that?” Scott thought Dylan would have been back at school this time of year.

“Of course. Jean… I mean Mrs. Wilder’s been telling me about it.”

“Oh?” Why was Jean talking to Dylan? Then it dawned on him, of course she’d be talking to Dylan. He lived next door. And since Scott wasn’t around anymore to do some of the heavier housework and yard work, she probably asked Dylan for help.

“Yeah,” Dylan replied simply, with a nervous grin. “I’ve been doing online courses lately. College is wicked expensive, so I’m taking a break and just doing my gen ed stuff online, and then I’ll dive back into my major classes. Working here and there to save up some funds.” He said it all quickly, as if eager to explain why he was back in town.

“Well, that’s pretty responsible of you.” Scott said.

“You’re still being anti-social?” Jean came walking back up next to Scott, hand on his arm. “Oh, hey Dylan. I didn’t know you were working tonight.”

The young man’s grin widened, and he gave a nod to Scott’s wife. “Yep. I’m filling in for Tyson, he had some car trouble. You know me, never gonna give up a paying gig.” He winked.

Jean’s cheeks flushed for just a moment before she turned to Scott. “Come on. It’s time to dive into this mess.” She took Scott’s elbow and began to guide him towards the dining room. “It was good seeing you, Dylan.” She called over her shoulder.

“You too, Mrs. Wilder.”

Scott glanced back at Dylan, seeing his eyes lingering on his wife’s ass. He couldn’t blame him, of course. Who wouldn’t look at Jean’s ass if they got a chance? But something about the look rubbed him the wrong way. Maybe it was just plain jealousy, realizing that someone had stepped in, even if it was just marginally, to fill the void Scott had left. Was he a horrible person for wanting Jean to struggle? To need him? Realize that she should have come with him rather than stayed behind?

Probably.

Scott knew he could be selfish. Though he didn’t think his request had been unreasonable. Jean was just being stubborn.

But the feel of her hand on him. Hearing her voice again. Seeing how beautiful she was. How she seemed to be thriving without him opened a pit in his stomach that he wasn’t sure what to do with.

They walked back into the dining room together and joined the party, sitting next to each other, and for the rest of the night dove into a pleasant conversation that for just a couple hours made them forget their troubles.

…

“You took an Uber?” Scott asked, walking with Jean out of the restaurant. It was nearing midnight, the dinner had gone long, and the wait staff had been gracious enough to not kick out the wedding party until they were all ready to stumble home. It resulted in a very large tip, so they probably didn’t mind as much as they would have otherwise.

“I wasn’t sure how much I was going to drink.” Jean shrugged, pulling ‌her phone from her purse and pulling up the app. “Didn’t want to end up tipsy and have to call an Uber, leaving my car here.”

“Would you like a ride home? I mean… I assume you’re still… at the house.” Scott rubbed his neck, glancing away towards the moths fluttering around one of the parking lot floodlights.

“Of course I am, Scott. Where else would I go?” Her voice was soft, putting her phone away. “If you don’t mind, sure, you can drive me home.”

Home. The word sent a shiver down Scott’s spine.

They proceeded his car and drove the hour back to the house that had once been their home. A home for them both. But now it was where Jean lived. It wasn’t Scott’s home. Or… was it? Pulling into the driveway, Scott got out and walked Jean to her door. It reminded him of those first few awkward dates he had with Jean when they were only teenagers. Walking awkwardly next to each other. Wondering what the other was thinking.

Jean unlocked the door and turned to Scott. “Thanks for the ride.”

Silence dropped on them like a ton of bricks. What were they supposed to do now? Would she invite him in? Should she? Did she want to talk? Tonight had been pleasant. Calm. Yes, their first meeting had been filled with tension, and there was definitely some bitterness still lingering between them. But was there a way past that? Maybe these next two weeks could be just the opportunity they needed to work through their problems.

Jean sighed and bit her lip. “Scott… would you maybe want to… come by for breakfast tomorrow?”

Scott’s heart nearly stopped.

“I… yeah, I’d like that…” He swallowed, his stomach twisting.

She nodded and opened the door, quickly slipping inside. “Okay. Um, maybe come by around eight?”

He nodded, a wide smile on his face.

“Great.” She smiled too, that same shy yet dazzling grin that made Scott’s heart pound and soar.

“Sounds good.” He muttered. “G’night.”

“Night.” With that, and one last lingering glance, Jean shut the door.

Scott remained on the porch for a moment, considering what had just happened. How strange it was that he was being invited to his own home to have breakfast with his wife. But it was a step in the right direction. Maybe coming to this wedding wasn’t such a bad idea.

Shaking off his excitement and anxiety, he returned to his car and drove back to the hotel with a smile on his face.

…

Dylan walked the short distance from his back door, through the gate between his and the Wilder’s yards, and up the back steps to the patio at the back of his neighbor’s house. He was dressed in loose track shorts and a tank top, hair still damp from a quick morning shower. Five AM was not an hour he was used to being up at, but Jean had made clear that they needed to change their scheduled meet because she had a last minute morning appointment.

It probably had something to do with Mr. Wilder being back in town. Seeing him had been a pretty big surprise, though Jean had mentioned that Scott might come back to town for the wedding. Honestly, he was happy for Jean. He knew how hard things had been emotionally for her since her husband had left, she’d confided in him a number of times. Their friendship had become something unexpected, especially considering their work arrangement.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to film, lifting it to show a POV as he approached the back door.

“Alright everyone, let’s see if our FyreFoxx is an early riser.” He chuckled and tilted the phone to flash a quick look at the growing bulge in his shorts. “I know I am.”

Dylan knocked firmly on the backdoor and took a step back so that he could get the full door in the camera shot. It was only a minute before the door opened.

Jean—AKA Mrs. FyreFoxx—stood in the doorway with a white Kitsuné mask covering her eyes, with tall fox ears standing tall above her head. Her red hair fell around her shoulders, shining in the early morning light. Dressed in orange stockings and a short silk robe that didn’t even go far enough down to hide the smooth mound of her pussy, she was dripping with sex appeal and lust.

“Morning. Is there something I can do for you?” FyreFoxx’s licked her deep red lips slowly, seductively, and trailed a finger along her neck, pulling the top of her robe open just slightly to flash just the barest glimpse of a light pink nipple.

“I think there’s something I can do for you.” Dylan panned the camera along FyreFoxx’s body and again showed his tented shorts, grabbing hold of his bulge and bouncing it lewdly.

“Mmmmm…” she hissed and slowly began stepping back, crooking a finger at the camera, luring him inside.

Dylan walked inside and shut the door behind him.