The Dentist

Introduction:

I don't have anything to preface this story with except to say it involves infidelity and divorce. There is no underage sexually activity in this story. After you read it leave whatever comments you want. I was going to block anonymous comments, but I got a couple really convincing private emails explaining some reader's preferences for anonymity. I enjoy almost all of them anyway so I'm not blocking anything or anybody.

*****

Well here I am again lying on my back staring at another darkened ceiling. Eugenie is lying beside me...again. This was just about how it started, and for the life of me I can't figure out how we seemed to have ended up this way...again.

Let me back up a little. I met the woman who would eventually become my wife at one of my cousin's weddings. I was twenty-four; two years into my career as a public school teacher. Since then I've been promoted twice; first from regular math teacher and then to administrative assistant at one of the high schools in our county. Eugenie was, is, two years older than I am, and at the time we met she was a paralegal in one of the smaller firms in the old city about forty-five miles from where I lived.

The afternoon it started I was sitting by myself at one of the peripheral tables set aside for family. I wasn't married. I'd dated a girl all through college, but shortly after she and I graduated we realized things weren't going to work out. Actually I realized things wouldn't work out. I thought dating and almost being engaged meant being exclusive; my girlfriend had other ideas. We discussed our differences and parted ways. I have no idea whatever happened to her, but I knew then I wasn't especially interested in any kind of serious relationship.

That was why I was at the wedding and reception as a solo; I felt this was an opportunity to pick up a little something. The 'little something' I ended up with was Eugenie.

Eugenie was a little something too; she stood just 5'2" and maybe weighed 110lbs. sopping wet. She had dark brown eyes and fluffy, but short, brown hair. Did I fall madly in love; not at first not nearly, but that afternoon she was exactly what I was looking for.

I think we hit it off pretty well. She started everything by wandering sort of seductively across the dance floor to my table; she was swaying her hips just enough to let her skirt swirl and twirl in a kind of 'if you're interested I'm available' manner. She had that suggestive look in her eyes like she was sizing me up and was kind of liking what she saw. She plopped, and I mean plopped, down on an adjacent seat and introduced herself. Of course the plop was intentional; it drew my eyes directly to the inverted plunge of the acute triangle that glared temptingly at me from the front of her partially unbuttoned blouse and at the two petulant little orbs that quivered beneath.

I thought she was kind of pretty. But for a wedding I thought she was dressed a little too provocatively; wearing a filmy white blouse, a light brown pleated mini-skirt of some vaguely thin and somewhat translucent material, and brown thin ankle socks that matched her two inch heels. I could tell there was some kind of chemise or something under the blouse, but considering the way her tiny boobs gently trembled I knew she couldn't be wearing a bra. And oh yeah, she was wearing glasses, not contacts.

We talked for a while about the wedding, how beautiful the bride was, how handsome the groom was, and what a beautiful day everything just generally was. It didn't take me long to realize she was either high on weed or she'd had too much to drink.

The more we talked the more I realized I'd found someone who, like me, wasn't interested in the wedding. Her body language; I mean the way she languidly twisted and turned in a manner that forced her breasts to press naughtily against the fabric of her chemise; just insistently enough to lure two tasty looking little nipples to discreetly intimate their presence.

It was cool to watch her lean forward and twist around; her chest pressed against the table with her boobs kind of sitting on the top like they were part of the entre. Yeah I got the unmistakable signal she wanted more than just polite conversation.

Forty minutes after we met I had her out in my car, a late model Malibu, and we were pounding away. We'd climbed back to the rear seat. I had my pants and boxers down around my ankles. She lifted that tiny mini-skirt of hers and sank right down on me. Her legs were outside mine so she was able to squeeze us together.

While we were out there I not only found out she wasn't wearing a bra; she didn't have any panties on either, and she made no effort to hide the fact her delightful little Mons was well groomed, there wasn't a hair in sight.

Yes sir, she'd come ready for bear! I was excited, and I'll admit a little drunk too. I completely forgot about protection.

It was incredible. She slid down and pulled me entirely inside. I thought she was going to pull my balls right in behind my Johnson. She rocked up and down, and I shot off a terrific load. It went way up in there. She jerked and moaned and shivered her way to orgasm. Afterward I sat there with my head pressed between two luscious little tits while she had her arms wrapped around my head breathing and panting like she'd just finished the Boston Marathon.

After a few minutes rest she pulled away, looked me in the eye and said, "Jesus that was great!"

We did it again!

Following our second go round she rolled off and sat beside me. After we kissed a couple times she whispered, "You need a reward," so she leaned forward and proceeded to lick my flaccid soldier clean. Every few seconds a residual drop of semen leaked out of the head of my dick. She'd lean forward and lick the drop off.

I found a roll of paper towels that had been left over from winter. I got her to kneel up on the seat and used the towels to wipe off her thighs and her vagina. While I wiped her, I used my fingers to crinkle around some more inside her puss and also to gently fingertip the edges of her squeaky little pink peach. It was cool pinching her labia together between my thumb and index finger. Every time I did it she rewarded me with a perky little squeeze of her legs. I was getting tumescent again, but we agreed it was too late so we sat back and watched as wedding guests tooled in and out of the reception hall.

Eventually we finished fiddling with each other's privates and got our clothes back in order. We talked some more and exchanged phone numbers and emails. A little later we ambled back inside to the reception.

Once inside we sort of drifted apart; I enjoyed the vision of her nice little round ass as she shuffled over to her table. I watched her walk away; she moved in that odd awkward way a woman will step if she feels a little sore.

I sauntered off to my table. I said to myself, "Job well done."

The newlyweds traveled the tables. They wished everyone well, and were gone. I gathered up my things, and took off for home.

All in all it had been a pretty satisfying day. I'd enjoyed a happy wedding, reconnected with a few relatives, and gotten more than I'd planned on in the sex department. The following Monday I went back to work, and completely forgot about Eugenie and our afternoon tryst.

Life was good.

++++++++++

Yeah, I'd forgotten, and so for a while had Eugenie. Then just a little over two months after the wedding I got an email followed by a phone message; Eugenie needed to see me. What for, I wondered?

We met on a Thursday evening after I left school. It was August and we'd just started back, professional days are what they call them. Eugenie and I got together at a tavern not far from my apartment. Remembering our last get together I was dressed casually. I was a little excited. I expected a possible repeat of the afternoon reception.

Eugenie showed up shortly after I did. She was still dressed for work in a smartly fitting dark blue dress, a snappy looking handbag, and a long scarf wrap around her neck. Her hair was held back in a tight bun, and she was still wearing glasses. The hem was more conservative, but the dress did nothing to hide two beautifully sculpted legs. I thought she had the look of the classic upwardly mobile businesswoman. I still didn't think she was wearing a bra. I was already thinking about nearby motel rooms.

She somewhat over casually sidled over to the bar where I was sitting and asked if we could find a booth. She said she had something she needed to tell me. I ordered another Coors Lite and she asked if I might get her a glass of Pepsi. I should have known then this wasn't just a social thing.

We found an empty booth and she unloaded on me right away, "I recall your name is Chase, Chase McClendon."

I replied, "That's right, and you're Eugenie Bonheur."

She smiled, "Nice going. You remembered."

"I haven't seen you in a while Eugenie. How have you been?"

"I'm pregnant Chase, and the baby's yours."

Thank God I'd taken a dump before I left work. Otherwise I knew I would've shit my pants right there. All thoughts of an evening romp in the hay left town.

I guess she could tell I was somewhat surprised, because she continued to talk, "I know whoever this baby becomes they're yours. We didn't use any protection. I can't use the pill, and I was so high I completely forgot about using spermicide or anything else later."

The last thing I wanted to do was get married, and I had absolutely no interest in marrying some woman who'd fuck a guy after just an hour's conversation at a wedding. I asked her, "You want me to help you get rid of it?"

She got up, "I can see this isn't going to work," she flipped her scarf around her neck, turned, and started out the door.

My first reaction was, thank God, but I suddenly realized she might know some of my family. What if this got back to them? I got out of my side of the booth and hurried to catch her before she got out the door. I got her by the arm, stopped her, and managed to pull her around, "Hey wait a minute."

She glared at me, "Wait for what? You made yourself pretty clear."

I kept my hand on her arm, but with my other hand I started to steer her back toward the booth, "Not so fast. Come on back. Let's try to work something out."

With my arm as a rudder I was able to maneuver her back to the booth. We sat back down. I pursed my lips, steepled my fingers, crossed and re-crossed my legs under the table, crossed my arms on the table top, nervously fidgeted, and finally blurted out, "You're sure it's mine?"

She stonily responded, "Positive."

I asked again, "Abor...," I couldn't say the word, "early removal isn't an option?"

"I'm Catholic."

"You need help?"

"What do you think?"

"OK, what do you want me to do?"

"I still live at home. In a couple weeks I'm going to start to show. I'm going to need some cover."

I knew what she meant, but I was getting pretty scared, "What do you mean?"

"I'm going to need someone who'll stand up and say they're the father."

"Don't you have a boyfriend?"

She grimaced, "Would I be here if I had a boyfriend," she hesitated, "actually yes I do, but he's black and my parents don't know and they'd kill me if I brought a black man into their house."

"So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend and say the baby's mine."

"No, I want you to marry me, then tell my parents you're my husband, and that the baby's yours."

I kept thinking, 'shot at sunrise', I'm being shot at sunrise. I replied, "I could tell you to just to get up and leave."

She started to get up again.

"No," I said, "I don't mean that."

She sat back down.

My mind drifted all over the place. She was pregnant. She said it was my kid. She had a black boyfriend. He probably had a fifteen inch dick, and used to play defensive end for Florida State before they cut him for chewing the heads off of chickens. Yeah, we'd get married and he'd be in and out, I thought really in and out all the time. Hell, I didn't even know her. She didn't know me either. I told her, "You don't even know me."

Eugenie replied, "I asked around. Everyone says you're OK."

'Fuck,' I thought, 'only OK.' I told her, "Well what about you? You OK?"

She sighed, "Look I'm not looking for any kind of forever thing. We get married. We stay married until my baby comes. Then we have a fight. We split up, and my baby has a name. My reputation, such as it is, stays clean, and you get to go back to being whatever it is you are."

I had to ask, "Well what is it that you think I are?"

She leafed through this great purse she had with her, found a sheet of paper, opened it out and responded, "You're a high school math teacher. You teach all levels from general math to Calculus. Your family's well respected in the county, certainly better than mine, but they're poor as piss. You're on track to become your school's math department head, and probably in ten or fifteen years you'll be a principal someplace. You played soccer, volleyball, and lacrosse in college. You belong to the Sunnyvale Sport Club. You like to swim, but don't golf. You got good, not great, grades in college. You went to Runny Meade High School right here in the county. You graduated two years behind me. I went to Park Lawn. You're 5'9", weigh approximately 165lbs., you have blue eyes and sandy colored hair. You have a younger sister and an older brother. You had your appendix out in your junior year of college. You're known around the county as something of a tom cat, but apparently none of the girls seem to mind. And you have some kind of big deal judo belt in Karate or something. Tell me did I miss anything?"

"I like dogs."

She glanced back down at her paper, "Yeah, your dog, you've got a black lab retriever named Maggie; she's at your parents."

I sat back, "All right what about you?"

She leaned forward. I think she thought she had me, "I graduated salutatorian from my high school. I was on the dean's list at college all four years. I graduated, took a few additional classes, and got hired as a paralegal. There's no market for students with a degree in Russian Literature even though I speak it fluently. I've been working downtown at Marcum, Baily, and Steinmetz for the past few years. Counting bonuses I make more money than you, and once I get my law degree I'll make a lot more than you'll ever make. I'm something of a slut. I like sleeping and keeping company with black men; not because they're necessarily bigger or better but because I'm white and French and they're flattered, and that makes them easier to control. If you married me I can't promise you fidelity, but I'd give it some serious, no little, no more than likely very little thought."

I had this figured out, "All right suppose I agreed to marry you; there'd have to be some stipulations," I couldn't believe what I was saying. I knew I was being snookered.

"Like what?"

"I'd need a prenuptial. I mean when we divorced I wouldn't care about visitation or any of that shit, but I'd have to have an iron clad guarantee my money and all my property stayed mine. I'd also want a DNA comparison after the baby is born to guarantee it's mine. I'll have to see something from a doctor up front that you're not carrying anything. You know any STDs. You'd have to move in with me. I'd expect you to take care of things. I'd want you to be available when I needed some, you know, relief. You couldn't bring any of your fuck buddies home. You'd have to pay up. By that I mean we'd split the rent, the utility costs, and anything else that came along."

She rubbed her chin and replied, "I could agree to all that, but I'd want some things too."

"Yeah, like what?"

"I'm not into just 'vanilla sex'. Just like my other guys I'd expect variety with you. At some point I'd have to stop working. I'd need your help for a few weeks. I'd expect you to come to Lamaze classes. I'd want you in the delivery room with me. I'll want some help with like exercises or maybe sometimes I might need a massage. I'd reciprocate for the massages," she put her fingers in her mouth to indicate what she meant, "I'd want your last name on my baby's birth certificate. If something happened, heaven forbid, and we needed something from you, say a kidney or a piece of liver or some bone marrow or something, I'd expect you to deliver. After he or she arrived I'd expect you to back off. The baby would be mine, not yours. Don't worry about the money; I'll pay my share, my insurance will cover delivery costs, and about the DNA we can get some amniotic fluid and find out about paternity almost right away."

We shook hands and agreed to meet the next afternoon to start the necessary procedures; those included getting blood tests, planning on how we'd break the news to our parents, getting a license, and of course seeing a lawyer.

I walked out of the tavern feeling a little bit overwhelmed. I guess I had every right to be, but then if things worked the way I figured I'd make out all right. I'd get help with finances, at least in the short term, I'd get a roommate, I'd have a maid, and for a while anyway, though it would be tricky at first, my parents would stop nagging me about a wife and children.

++++++++++

Things went fast after that. We did get the blood tests. She was clean. She never asked about me. We had our wedding at the courthouse, and only told our parents after the deed was done.

My dad was noncommittal. My sister and brother both knew Eugenie, and I'm sure they figured something. My mom was disappointed because she wanted me to have a real wedding, but she took a liking to Eugenie from the first.

Her parents were somewhat less open minded. As it turned out Eugenie was an only child. Her parents were new to the country, at least by my family's two hundred year standards; they were very wealthy, or I thought so at the time, and they had high hopes their daughter would marry someone or something better than a public school arithmetic teacher.

Her mother, a German, and a graduate from Gottingen University even said as much, "So," she said, "you teach high school arithmetic."

I saw Eugenie's embarrassment and I understood the intended sarcasm perfectly. Though I taught advanced Calculus and Algebra III, I did have one class of general math so I replied, "Yep, I teach general math mostly. You know the remedial stuff to hard cases who've failed two or three times," it was a pleasure to watch her gnash her teeth. I thought for a moment she was going to lose a filling.

Eugenie's father was a little more philosophical, "Well I suppose love knows no societal bounds."

Frankly, to me the whole thing was a half assed business arrangement, plus I was supposedly doing the manly thing. I hardly knew Eugenie, and from what I saw from her parents I figured I probably wouldn't like her let alone feel any companionship. I had to let these bastards know how I felt so I let it rip, "Hell man love's got nothing to do with it. I knocked your daughter up so I'm manning up and taking my medicine."

Eugenie gasped. Her mother took a seat, but her father...he smiled, he reached out his hand, and said, "I like you...son. Put er there."

I took his hand and we shook. I wasn't sure; maybe one of them wasn't half bad. I retreated somewhat, "I didn't mean it quite the way it sounded. Eugenie and I agreed no matter how we might feel about each other, or how long we might stay together, neither of us wanted to end this pregnancy. There's a child inside your daughter, and I intend to at least help out at the start."

Her mother looked at Eugenie, then at me, "Would you like something to drink?"

I guessed that was her way of approving of me so in deference to Eugenie I answered, "An iced tea would be nice."