Episode IV: Family Values

There is something to be said about the moral high ground. So many people fly the banner of morals and family values to get ahead. Hunter Stevenson looked to join the laundry list of politicians who supported 'family values.' It's a great line, attracting many idealistic people and idolaters into the same fold. Hunter was a champion of the moral high ground with the looks of a model cut from an Esquire magazine. His sword and shield were his expensive fountain pens and Fendi attaché. His armor was a closet of tailored single and double breasted suits, silk ties, and shoes all with designer labels. His salt and pepper hair was perfectly quaffed and his jaw was square. He screamed confidence and power from his cherry Aston Martin all the way down to his cuff links. When Hunter Stevenson walked into a courtroom the jury was his.

The same thing applied to the women who worked in his office. Isn't is always the case that the people who openly praise the moral high ground are the one's burying their faces in moral depravity. Unknown to the oblivious misses and the huddled masses, Hunter Stevenson was a playboy. Hotels left suites open for him to discretely wine, dine and lay his various beautiful office assistants. The revolving door policy he had with the women he employed was the plan when Amelia Blake was working in his office as an intern; but what he intended to be a quicky ended up being a disaster.

Three weeks or so after he first started sleeping with her he started to feel this strange vibe after there clandestine rendezvous, as she liked to refer to them. It was as if he was being watched; watched in his office from afar, watched when he was with his kids at the park, watched as he left a hotel. He excused his vibes as paranoia; his first thought was to perhaps blame it on his competition trying to look for dirt to use against him later in the campaigns. Of course it never bothered him when he was having sex with Amelia. For some strange reason he had no cares in the world. Each time he would insert his room key into a door and find her naked body on a bed or couch waiting for him, the justice system was irrelevant. He would look up at her beautiful body twisted in awkward positions his wife would never be caught dead doing and all he would feel is inner peace. It was becoming clearer to him with every secret visit of theirs, every rise of her breasts when their breathing was in unison, every heartbeat as they made passionate love to each other; Hunter Stevenson, the lord and marshal of family values was falling in love with another woman, a younger and vivacious woman, a woman who wasn't his wife.

[continued]

Episode III [continued]

Amelia barged right past James at the door into his apartment tossing her purse on his kitchen counter as she made her way straight into his living room. He almost laughed at her presumption, but he was a bit busy staring at her legs as she flopped on his couch and lifted one leg then the other up in the air so she could unzip and slip off her boots. She was obviously excited to tell him something, he could see it in her eyes and in her feet as they danced back and forth on his coffee table.

"Guess what I did?"
"Got a job?"
"Yeah right. I, had an appointment with my advisor."
"Good for you."
"No numbnuts, an appointment... with my advisor... wink."

He knew what she meant. In his mind he could see her walking into Professor Roe's office in the same outfit she was wearing then. In a few seconds his mind wandered from her blowing him at his desk to him punching Frank Roe in the face. It was a good quick daydream, bashing the competition's face in. On the outside he played dumb.

"I finally fucked, Professor Roe."
"Huh, how was it?"

Why did he ask that? In his mind as soon as she said fuck he flashed white hot rage and was furiously beating the professor. Why torture himself that way? She may not have realized how much he still loved her, but he couldn't just come out and say it. He's the guy friend. To Amelia he was the closest thing to a gay best friend. James knew this, and that was why he was so angry, on the inside. She was already rambling at top speed.

"It was awesome. I mean he wasn't exactly the best I've ever had or anything, but he's cute and nerdy. And I love nerds. He was gentle, but quick because we were in his office. That was what made it so awesome, the fear of getting caught."

Even as jealous and pissed off as he was, he maintained a level of rationality.

"You do realize that he could lose his job if it ever came out that you slept with him. I already know and I'm one too many."
"But I had to tell someone... It felt so dangerous."
"As dangerous as pulling a gun on someone. Cause that happened, do you realize what could happen to me if you blurted that out to someone? I would go to jail."

Right then and there her cell phone vibrated in her skirt pocket. As serious as the situation was, James was curious as to how little fabric could make a skirt like hers and there could still be a pocket. He already knew without her saying it.

"Shit."
"It's your boyfriend isn't it... Well, isn't this perfect. I'm guessing he has no idea that you're hot for the teacher?"
"No, actually, that's why I came over. I'm thinking I'm going to break up with him, and I was wondering if you had any ideas."
"You're fucking kidding right, you fuck the professor and you break up with your boyfriend of three years in the same day. And here I thought my life was a joke. I'm gonna take a piss."

He let out a few chuckles as he walked from the living room over to his bathroom mirror. He grabbed the small bottle next to his shaving cream and poured four different colored pills into his hand and with a handful of water from the faucet washed them down. No way was he going to let another minute go by without some drug in his system. As he stepped up to his toilet and began to piss he shut his eyes. He tried to remember that night with her crying in his arms, but other images and ideas kept popping into his head. He could only remember the feelings. As he opened his eyes he couldn't figure out what was more depressing, him knowing the lascivious details of Amelia or him losing the memory of the best night of his life.

Episode III: Love is the Drug

One of the things that James hated about Amelia was he desire to tell him every detail of her sexual conquests, no matter how graphic or degrading. Of course he would prefer it if she stayed tight lipped about the matters of her and her sex life but he'd never say it. He'd also never say it, but he knows he still has feelings for her. There was a time, a brief time, after his accident when all he did was hated her. He had a dream of what his life would be with her and she ruined it when she started the relationship with her boyfriend.

The dream was dead and he had no problems being around her, near her, with her. Whatever he felt from her had fled his mind and he was content without it. The feelings didn't stay gone for long thought, they resurfaced late one night a couple months after his accident. Amelia had already been partying in her place for some time before James had arrived. She was acting erratic, almost manic as she danced to the deafening music blasting from her living room stereo. He took a seat in the same recliner that would eventually be soaked in piss by a drunken no-name with a gun to his head. She staggered awkwardly towards him, unbuttoned her shirt in an awkward striptease and sat on his lap.

"Amelia, what are you doing?"
"What, this is what you've wanted isn't it? You've always wanted me."
"Amelia... Amelia I think you've had a little bit too much to drink, why don't we take you upstairs."
"Even better, we can do it on the bed."
"Amelia, please stop."
"Come on, you know you want to fuck me, I want you to."
"Stop, Amelia."

The better and worse parts of his nature were competing with each other. He had wanted this for so long. Any other day he would welcome her hand on his crotch. As a matter of fact, he have welcomed everything she was doing, kissing his neck, grinding his legs, and softly caressing his skin. But as enticing as she was, he knew this wasn't right.

[Continued]