Chapter 2

“And I would love to give you that beautiful wedding, that elegant wedding dress,” Monica said and Bethany beamed happily.

Three weeks after Bethany unofficially moved in, Monica came into the apartment, kissed her little lover, then slipped out of the day’s work clothes. Glass of wine in hand, Monica opened that day’s mail, ignoring Bethany’s suggestion that she be given a key to the mailbox.

“See? That way? Wouldn’t even have to stop at the stupid mailbox; I’d already have it all right there, waiting for you,” Bethany suggested. “Soup and sandwiches okay? I picked up some corned beef at the deli down the street and…’

“Oh that asshole! That, that, asshole,” Monica snarled, interrupting Bethany’s happy prattle.

“Huh?” Bethany asked. “Mr. Dunham at the deli?”

“Huh?” Monica asked, looking up from the sheaf of legal papers.

“You said…” Bethany said.

“Huh? Oh, oh, no, no, my brother, my step-brother,” Monica spat. “Jeff. Jeff Davis. Trying to claim my father’s estate belongs to him. So, now he’s suing me.”

“Oh? Oh no, he, does he have any claim?” Bethany asked, sliding onto the couch next to Monica.

“He might; I mean, my dumbass dad adopted him,” Monica spat, continuing to read the legal mumbo-jumbo on the several pages of thick paper with official letterhead. “Son of a… I mean, he, he didn’t even take my dad’s last name but now wants to claim… Oh that little asshole. And according to the statute? He, he could very well, God! I, I could lose the entire estate. To a selfish, narcissistic little…”

As Monica cursed, flipping through page after page, Bethany sat next to her, reading over Monica’s shoulder. Then, with a soft kiss to Monica’s cheek, Bethany got to her feet and finished preparing their supper. Monica put the papers onto the coffee table when Bethany announced that supper was ready. After their meal, Monica tried to seduce Bethany but Bethany gently rebuffed Monica’s advances.

“Cramps,” she smiled a tight lipped smile.

“Oh, okay,” Monica nodded in understanding.

In the morning, Monica kissed Bethany in parting. She even stated that she loved the impetuous, flighty little chatterbox. Bethany gave Monica a bucktoothed grin and softly closed the door behind the high school history teacher.

That evening, Monica returned home to a silent apartment. On the coffee table were the legal papers, the pronouncement of Jefferson Finis Davis’s suit against Monica. The stapled pages were folded open to the seventh page, the page that clearly listed the statutes that the law office of Kirby, Stanton, Maxwell & Associates would be establishing during the proceedings. These statues solidified Jefferson Davis’s claim to the estate of Monica’s father. The seventh page indicated that Jefferson David, as the rightful heir to his deceased mother’s estate, second wife to Monica’s father, intended to sue for the full estate; not a partial claim.

Bethany’s clothes were gone. Her pillows were gone. Sliding open the drawer on Bethany’s nightstand, Monica saw that the little minx had even taken the eight inch strap-on cock along with the three bottles of flavored lubricant.

Quietly, Monica prepared a frozen Lean Cuisine meal in the microwave. Silently, she sat and ate her dinner, then prepared herself a simple drink, a few fingers of Iron Barrel Whiskey over ice.

After her second drink, Monica smiled sadly as she dropped the pages of the lawsuit into the trash. That morning’s coffee grounds quickly stained the pages as Monica shoved the garbage can back underneath the kitchen sink.

At some point, perhaps during the second week of their relationship, Monica had allowed Bethany to use her IPad; there was a game the girl was obsessed with. Repeatedly, as Bethany played, the girl giggled, squealed and laughed that it was so much easier to play the game on Monica’s IPad rather than on her own ‘dinky’ little phone.

On Monday, while Bethany prepared their dinner, Monica heard her IPad give an odd ‘Ding!’ and looked at the screen. Yanking the device from the coffee table, Monica read Bethany’s text exchange with someone named Buddy. Apparently, when she’d used Monica’s IPad to play her game, Bethany’s IPhone had synced up with Monica’s IPad.

Buddy had sent a simple ‘seven fucking million dollars!’ From the kitchen, Monica heard Bethany’s giggle as she responded that she deserved every single penny for having to eat Monica’s nasty old pussy.

“Tell your idiot boyfriend its nine point seven million,” Monica wanted to say.

“And you two won’t see one fucking penny of it,” Monica thought as she arrowed up on the IPad, following the text train of Bethany and her accomplice, presumably Bethany’s boyfriend as the two plotted to defraud Monica of her money.

When Bethany announced supper was ready, Monica smiled, putting the IPad on the coffee table once more. That night, Monica licked, fingered and sucked Bethany to two grunting, thrashing squealing orgasms before slipping the fat strap-on cock on. Her anger, her bitterness made it very hard to achieve climax; Bethany was almost sobbing by the time Monica crested in orgasm.

“Next time,” Monica promised, kissing Bethany deeply. “Next time? I’m taking that sweet little ass of yours.”

“Oh no you ain’t!” Bethany argued. “That? That’s ‘exit only.'”

The next day, during her free period, Monica created the legal looking documents on her laptop, including an official letterhead for the fictitious law firm. The school’s antiquated color laser printer slowly groaned and clattered through printing all twelve pages of the cover letter and the document. Monica was ready to scream; the usual mail courier would be coming into the school office in just a few minutes and the printer was laboring mightily to complete the task.

The pages were still warm when Monica stapled, folded and inserted them into the envelope. She hurriedly placed the envelope onto the meter, creating the proper postage as the office door swung open. The grizzled old mail courier grunted his greeting as he dropped off the few pieces of mail for the school then grabbed the envelope from Monica’s hand.

Two days later, the official looking document sat on Monica’s coffee table. Three days after constructing her lawsuit, Monica sat alone in her lonely apartment. Idly reading her IPad, Monica smiled sadly as she read Bethany’s assertion that she wasn’t about to continue the charade. Especially if there might not be a payout for her and Buddy. Buddy urged Bethany to continue, just for a few more weeks but Bethany was adamant; she was bailing on their plans. She wasn’t eating no more pussy.

A few weeks after Bethany’s abandonment, Monica smiled as she handed out the sixth period’s final exam. Stephanie Carter, normally a beautiful but surly blonde was now quite hostile toward her. Monica’s carefree smile truly seemed to antagonize the girl.

The rest of the class passed in relative silence. The scratching of thirty one pens on paper, the occasional fluttering as a student flipped from page one to page two, from page two to page three, the idle tapping of a pen on a wooden desk surface as a young lady tried desperately to dislodge the information from their stubborn memory banks.

“And… Time,” Monica called out when the clock reached five minutes before the end of the class period. “Fold the tests over, pass them forward, class I am speaking. Class.”

Finally all thirty one tests were in her hands. Monica graciously wished the girls a pleasant and safe summer holiday as the bell rang, signaling an end to sixth period.

“Buddy figured it out,” Stephanie spat hatefully at Monica as she stomped past Monica’s desk. “There wasn’t no lawsuit.”

“How very nice for Buddy,” Monica giggled. “Do tell him I said ‘hi!'”

“Dyke!” Stephanie shrilled hatefully before dashing from the classroom.

“Really? Really? Wait until the last day of class before getting yourself expelled?” Monica smiled, shaking her head as she pressed the intercom button to summon someone to monitor her seventh period examination while she visited the office to report Ms. Carter’s insubordination.

A week after completing all of her assignments and tendering her resignation from teaching History at Mother Superior Agnes Campion High School, Monica boarded Flight 1141 bound for the Avignon Islands. From the airport on the main island, Monica made her way to the dock for King Philip IV Island where a smiling man waited on his large cabin cruiser. With a flourish, the skipper welcomed the woman to the French Caribbean and throttled toward King Philip IV Island.

“How long would it take a postcard to reach the United States?” Monica asked the posing, preening valet that carried her suitcase from the dock of King Philip IV Island to the Grande Chalet Hotel.

“Mm, it depends,” he smiled, flexing his ebony muscles for the attractive blonde woman. “Some states? It may take longer.”

“Of course, of course,” Monica agreed, proceeding the young man into the lobby of the hotel.

Five weeks after leaving Monica, two weeks after Buddy found out that they’d been duped, Bethany was looking through the mail Stephanie had brought in. Her marijuana and beer headache was getting worse as Buddy’s dick head cousin insisted on playing his music at ground-thumping volume.

“Hey, my mother fucking trailer? My mother fucking music. And I play it as mother fucking loud as I feel like,” Dominic Carter had spat just a few minutes ago. “Don’t like it? You can carry your ugly fucking ass on the fuck out of here.”

Muttering about Bethany’s worthless bucktooth blow jobs, Dominic had actually turned the music louder. Buddy was intimidated by his cousin so would not dare confront Dominic. Buddy did not even put up a fight when Dominic decided that, along with beer and marijuana, he also wanted pussy as payment of rent.

Bethany sighed and began sorting through the mail, one eye closed in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the tiny kitchen. A post card was among the bills, bills and more bills. The Central Energy bill was in the envelope with the blue edging; it was their second notice; the invoice that stated ‘we’re blue you may have forgotten about us’.

The front of the post card showed a glorious beach at sunrise, the waters crystal clear. Flipping it over, Bethany saw that it was from the Avignon Islands and addressed to her.

‘Having a wonderful time, enjoying the Avignon Islands with my nine point seven million dollars!’

“That, that bitch! That unbelievable, AAAARRGGHH!” Bethany screamed.

**Author’s Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment.

I thank you for reading my stories. I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I also thank those that take the time to rate my works, those that ‘Favorite’ my words.

This is one of those anomalies; there are no characters from any other JimBob44 story making an appearance in this short little tale.

Have a swell day. And some of you, have a swollen day.