6-4=3

Hi folks, those of you who don't like longer stories should probably skip this one. Mikothebaby and I have done two or three shorter little gimmick pieces for the last few and we wanted a chance to stretch out and do a story with no ghosts or goblins or tricks. We wanted a story about people relating to each other or not relating to each other and how it affects their relationship or lach thereof. There aren't really any perfect people in this story. A lot of you may not find anyone to like among all of the characters. In order for people who don't like long pieces to feel comfortable I've broken this little drama up into three acts so they can readt them separately. Of course, all three acts are here in one big giant piece for people who want to read the whole thing. You don't have to read it all in one sitting, we didn't write it that way. As usual next week's story will be completely different and probably shorter. Thanks to mikothebaby for editing all of these words and turning them into a readable story. If you hate it, it's not her fault she didn't write it, she just gussied it up. SS06

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This is more of an equation than a story. It's a situation although mathematically, it's a subtraction problem, but the emotions involved make it a bit more complicated. Well...you'll see.

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Act one: Grouping

Ryan and Melanie

Ryan

I stepped out of my used Mercedes C 250. I looked around the parking lot of the motel to see if anyone was looking at me. For the money I paid for the very cheapest car of the Mercedes line, I could have bought a far nicer Cadillac, Audi or BMW. But for me only a Benz would do. I enjoy asking for my keys in a loud voice and saying, "It's the Mercedes." There's something about that which let's everyone around me know that I drive the best. Therefore, by association it gives them the impression that I am a cut above the average bear.

I am all about making an appearance. Most of the people I deal with for any length of time know that I'm more about style than any actual substance. I know that in most facets of life, appearance is everything. Ninety percent of the time, if I look like I know what I'm doing, or look like I belong in a place, everyone there believes I do.

It started out in high school. I was the third string quarterback. I never played a snap in any game my entire four years there. But, I wore the uniform and worked out hard in the gym to make sure I looked good in it. For that, I got the status afforded to all of the guys on the team. I got the respect that all of the members of the team got and I even got a cheerleader girlfriend. I got all of those things, not because I was a great athlete, but because I looked like I was.

I ran into a problem in college when, at a practice, the coach decided to go for a practice game. Ha made up two teams of mixed first and second string players and had them play a game. I had never even bothered to learn the play book. When the center snapped the ball, it came so fast and so hard that it knocked me on my ass. My head hit the ground and I suffered a concussion. Luck was on my side though, because everyone assumed that I'd slipped. I milked the concussion for the whole season and simply didn't return to the team the next year.

While at college, I dated a number of women. I got a lot of first dates and a respectable amount of sex, but very few second and no third or fourth dates.

That all changed when I met Melanie Parks. I made Melanie my reason for living. I put all of my attention on Melanie. I pursued her, I wooed her, I screwed her and in the end I imbued her with the title of wife. She would be the woman I'd have for the rest of my life; or so the story was supposed to go.

Melanie Parks was a moderately pretty girl. She was moderately smart as well. She had medium length brown hair and blue eyes. She had extremely nice, although not giant breasts. Her ass and legs were world class though from running track for most of her life. She was extremely average or perhaps just a shade above. Melanie was one of the sweetest, but also most romantic women I knew. What attracted me to Melanie wasn't her pretty face. I also wasn't attracted to her nice body, her caring attitude or her sweet disposition.

Melanie didn't look like a million bucks in clothes any more than any other woman did. Melanie didn't fuck like a minx and she couldn't suck a golf ball through a garden hose. What attracted me to Melanie so desperately was behind her and it wasn't her muscular ass. I was attracted to Melanie's...father.

Herb Parks was CEO and largest stockholder in Parks International. He had built the company from the ground up into one of the few domestic chip manufacturing plants that could compete with the Asian market vendors. Parks International was worth its weight in gold. The only thing Herb Parks loved more than his company was his family. He gave his wife and daughter anything they wanted.

He gave us a huge wedding and even gave us a house to live in. The most important thing was that he also gave me a job at a very good salary that I would probably never lose. The opportunities for advancement were unparalleled. The best thing about it is that I really don't have to be good at anything. As long as I look busy and keep looking like I'm doing something, I'm safe. And with Melanie talking to her daddy and telling him that I need a better job every so often, I'll keep rising in the company. Eventually, one of two things will happen.

Either Herb will decide to retire and leave me in charge or he'll die and leave the company to Melanie, which would still leave ME in charge. Another thing that I've learned from the football fiasco is to always have someone to blame in case of catastrophe. And to also stay friendly with a few people who actually know what's going on. That way if I need to make a good showing, I can get them to coach me and make sure I come out looking good.

As I said before, Melanie is a really nice girl. She's sweet and pretty and all of that, but she's a little bit boring for my tastes and I have to really work at it to stay awake with her during sex. I actually started cheating on her before we got married and I've continued to do so ever since. It took about three years for her to catch me the first time. She was distraught and upset and I told her that I'd been drunk. That works really well for women, but for guys being drunk actually cuts down on your ability to perform. But Melanie believed me and took me back. I promised her that I'd never drink unless she was with me anymore.

It hurt me a lot. I had to fire my secretary. She was a really hot blonde with incredible boobs. But somebody had to take the fall for me being caught and she was as good as anyone. Since then, I've been much more careful. I can't afford to have Melanie get angry at me. As boring as she is, my future is tied to her. Lately I've been considering getting her knocked up. That would, after all, make it a lot harder for her to dump me if I get caught again. The problem is that I'm still too young at thirty five for that "Daddy" tag. But we'll see.

As I look around the parking lot, I spot her and she waves at me. She's young, blond and happy. Almost the opposite of my wife's middle aged, dark haired, dour faced appearance. She starts walking towards me and then slows down. She already knows the game. We can't be seen going into a room together. I got the keys earlier and she watches as I go into the room. She looks around herself and then when the coast is clear slowly walks up to the door. Anyone who is only casually watching us won't assume that we're here together. All they'll remember is that a guy went into a room and then a few minutes later, a woman went into a room. Most won't even take note of the fact that we went into the same room since they won't have seen us together.

As soon as the door closed, she was on me. That was one of the things I loved most about Tabitha. She was aggressive when it came to sex. She didn't play any of those stupid fucking games that women play. She didn't spend hundreds of dollars on lingerie that would only end up on the floor and forgotten anyway. She didn't try to set a romantic mood with candles or incense and all of that other retarded bullshit. She didn't need to pretend to be demure or innocent. We both knew what we came here for. She wanted it just as much as I did and there was nothing to gain by playing stupid games the way my wife still did, even after being married for all of these years.

"Suck my titties," she proclaimed as her greeting. She quickly opened her blouse and had obviously either taken off her bra earlier or simply hadn't worn one. My wife could never have gotten away with that. Even though her breasts weren't huge, she couldn't go around without a bra without attracting a lot of attention. Tabitha's barely more than a mouthful sized pert breasts stood up without any support and her nipples were tiny enough that they didn't stand up much even when hard. But all I had to do was to touch them and she was screaming.

She pulled her skirt up around her waist and I pushed her back onto the bed and I was in her all the way up to my balls. She gave a single grunt and then started forcing her hips against my abdomen. At the same time, I did my best to ram her through the cheap motel bed. Our grunts, our sweat and the smell of sex permeated the air in the room. I don't know why her slick tunnel excited me so much. Surprisingly, even though younger, she wasn't as tight as my wife, so there had to be more to it than just the act of sex. But I was enjoying myself too much to even think about it. After a blissfully short period of time, her body stiffened and went slack. She smiled up at me as I continued pounding away at her until I too, slipped off the edge of my own personal cliff.

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Melanie

My name is Melanie Dewberry and I'm lonely and depressed. I don't understand it. My life was not supposed to turn out this way. I guess everyone says that. When we're young, we all imagine that we're going to be a famous athlete or a movie star and it just never happens for most of us. The few people who do become movie stars or sports legends probably wanted to be something else too.

I guess I can't complain, it's just...I don't want to be rich, or famous, or anything like that. I just want one small thing. I just want to have someone who loves me and I want to love him right back. I'm married to Ryan Dewberry and my marriage just doesn't feel like that. I feel like I'm alone all of the time, even when we're together. I met Ryan while we were in college and we've been married for thirteen years. I thought that our love would only grow over time and we'd get even closer together, but it hasn't been like that.

Lately I've been remembering the warning one of my college roommates gave me about Ryan. When I first met him, I wanted to know all about him. I wondered why he dated so many different women but didn't have a steady girlfriend. So I asked her because she'd dated him. She said that he had just enough bullshit for one date. After that, his charm wore off and very few women wanted to see him again. He looked really good in his clothes, but he was mostly a stuffed shirt. I should have taken her warning more seriously.

At first, Ryan was very attentive and very caring. He was romantic, he was sweet, and he was everything a girl wants. At the same time, he was definitely a man. He was into football and cars and all of those grown up, little boy things. But almost before the ink dried on our marriage certificate, Ryan began paying more attention to his job and to trying to impress my dad than he did to me. Almost from the beginning, he was staying at the office late and working extra time. I felt that he should have been working extra time on improving our marriage, but I didn't say anything. Perhaps I should have.

It wasn't long before I stumbled onto the fact that he had another woman. When I confronted him about her, he admitted it. He told me that he'd been drinking while they celebrated landing a new account and things had just gotten out of hand. After that first time, she'd blackmailed him into continuing it. She'd told him that if he didn't continue to see her, she'd tell me about it and I'd probably divorce him. I don't know how, but I let him convince me that it would never happen again. With the teeth taken out of her blackmail, he fired her and we stayed together.

Staying together didn't really help us. We continued to drift farther apart and for the last few years, I really believe that I should have spoken to the woman before I let her be dismissed so hastily. Ryan has been the perfect husband to all appearances. When we're out in public, he's attentive and we hold hands, but it really rings hollow because when we're not in public, we rarely see each other. Ryan is always at work. He even goes in on Saturdays when the plant is closed.

He asked me to pick his new secretary, to make sure there was no recurrence of the previous incident. The woman I picked is sixty years old and fat, but very adept in secretarial skills. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I was unrealistic. I expected my husband to make an effort. I thought that maybe it would be like it was in the beginning and that he'd try to win my love back; or at least to try to prove to me that his mistake was a mistake and that he loved me.

I didn't get either. It was more like...no harm, no foul, business as usual. For the past few years, I've felt more like I was the one who'd made the mistake. Actually, I felt like I've made two. The first one was marrying him to begin with. The second mistake was in taking him back after he cheated.

I'm not a spoiled princess or a diva. I'm not very hard to please. I don't need or expect expensive presents or anything like that. I've been there and done that. I grew out of that kind of thing before I hit my teens. My father owns and runs a very successful company, so I was spoiled as a little girl. But as I got older, I'd already learned to judge who my real friends were and who was just out to use me for my daddy's money. It's funny when you think about it. In many ways, Ryan seems like that type. I guess the only difference is that Ryan works all of the time to get his money.

By the time I hit my teens, I realized that what really made me happy was when my daddy or my friends spent time with me or the way they treated me, not what they bought me. All I expect from my husband is that he treats me like I matter. I want to know that he loves me. I really don't think that's out of the box.

For the past few weeks, I've had the feeling that Ryan is playing his game again, so I hired an investigator to find out for me and if possible get me the evidence I'd need in the event of a divorce. This morning I was heading for a meeting with the investigator. He'd called and told me that he'd found something for me. I hoped that I was just being paranoid. But deep down inside, I already knew that something was going on. I think that in some ways we're all connected. We're especially connected with our close friends and family. So when something is wrong, we get flashes, and my flashes were telling me that my husband was betraying me yet again.

The investigator was an older guy. He was bald on top and he had sagging cheeks. He looked kind of like a Basset hound in the face. His sad expression already told me what I needed to know but maybe...I hoped that maybe the sadness his expression conveyed was just the way he looked. Maybe this guy would look like that even if he won the lottery.

"Mrs. Dewberry," he said. "I guess there's no easy way to say this. You were right. Your husband is meeting another woman. He's been pretty careful. It's almost as if he's been caught before..."

"He has," I said with almost no emotion. The tears welling up in the corners of my eyes and the sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach belied the stoic tone of my words. I felt like I wanted to die. I wondered who she was and what she had that I didn't. Why did Ryan choose her over me? What did she do for him that I wouldn't do?

"Anyway, he's covering his tracks well. It was hard to catch him. He's meeting her in motels and he's paying cash for the rooms. He uses a different motel every time. I wonder what he'd have done when he ran out of motel rooms. She's not his secretary and as far as I can tell she doesn't work for your father's company at all. That was pretty smart. Usually, they pick someone they work with. After all, they spend at least as much of their time on the job as they do at home." He shook his head as he looked at me.

"I have pictures and a log of their activities. I even have a video and a lot of audio tape. He's a pretty randy guy. They meet up at least four or five times a week. He's even met her more than once in the same day a couple of times. She lives in a trailer park about three miles from your father's plant. She works in a gas station. The funny thing about it is that your husband has no idea that she has a husband and four kids of her own."

"I spent some time following her around too. She's only twenty three years old. The husband has no job and he isn't above cheating on her from time to time. Maybe she sees your husband as some kind of white knight in shining armor. From the way they talk after sex, she has the idea that your husband is going to take her away from her drab life. She's trying to slowly come around to bringing up her kids. Either that or she's going to just leave the kids with the husband when your husband finally takes her away from it all."

"On the other hand, your husband sounds like it's just pure fun and games. He obviously has no intention of divorcing you. From his latest demands on her for wilder and rougher sex, it seems as if he's winding things down. This may run out of steam on its own or it may explode and get far worse. Anyway, all of the evidence is there in the folder. If you really love this man, you probably don't want to look at the evidence. In my experience, when you actually see your spouse cheating on you, it makes it a lot harder to try to salvage the relationship."

For a while neither of us said anything. He looked at me with what had to be pure pity on his face. "Are you married Mr. Smith?" I asked. I was sure that he wasn't. After all, doing what he did for a living had to make a man jaded and less willing to see the good in people. Besides with looks like his how would he find someone? Would he put an ad on craigslist with the heading "Man seeks woman. Must love dogs?"

Surprisingly, his sad, dog-like face brightened. He smiled as he said, "Yes." And my entire world got a little bit darker. If this sad faced man could find happiness and I couldn't; what the hell was wrong with me?

Even the way his face brightened at the question told me that not only was he married but that he was deeply in love with his wife and had absolutely no doubts about whether or not she loved him back. I had to look at the sad faced little man differently then. Maybe I, not he, was the punch line in some cosmic joke.

I reached for the envelope and took it off of the table with trembling fingers. I left the office and drove home. The miracle was that I made it without killing myself or some other motorist because I truly don't remember driving at all.

I walked into my house. My house was beautiful, but it wasn't a home. Everything around me was shiny and bright and modern, but it wasn't a home. To be a home there needed to be love in it and there clearly wasn't. I was just exhausted. The whole thing was just emotionally draining. I couldn't even work up the strength to cry.

As I sat down on the sofa, I heard a slight chiming sound. I looked around and realized it was my computer letting me know that I had an email. I logged onto my account. The message was from my online pen pal.