The Party Favor

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue

Chapter Six

Her cell phone rang half an hour later, while she was parked at a convenience store, trying to figure out where to go. It was Roger.

"What the hell is going on?" he yelled into the phone. "Tiffany is in tears and says you screamed at her and said you were leaving!"

"She did the screaming," said Jennifer. "But yes, I left."

"Why? I don't understand! What's going on?"

"Apparently she hasn't told you everything she said she was going to. She wanted me to approve letting her do something no sane mother would allow her fifteen-year-old daughter to do. I refused and she tried to blackmail me, Roger. I'm not going to live under the threat of blackmail. Maybe the two of you can discuss that. I'll call you in a few days." She hung up, and then turned her phone off for good measure.

She decided to go to the shelter, where she had volunteered dozens of times, working in the soup kitchen, until Roger had made her stop. She didn't think of herself as homeless, but she might be soon. Claudette was on duty. It was late enough that the doors were already locked, so she had to speak through a speaker system. Claudette unlocked the door, looking worried.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I can't go home right now," said Jennifer, holding it all inside.

"No problem," said Claudette, hiding her surprise. She knew people came to the shelter from all walks of life.

"Can you log me onto the internet?" asked Jennifer.


"I need to make a donation to the shelter ... while I still can," she said.

"Don't do something stupid," said Claudette. "Sometimes these things blow over."

"This one isn't going to blow over, Claudette."

"That bad, huh."

"That bad."

Claudette took her to the office and put in the password for access to the internet. Jennifer tapped keys and asked Claudette for the information needed to do an electronic transfer to the shelter's account. She kept it to ten thousand dollars, because she was pretty sure Roger wouldn't notice a small amount like that until their CPA asked him about it.

"Good Lord, girl!" whispered Claudette, looking over her shoulder. "Are you insane?"

"You need the money, don't you?

"Well sure ... but ... Jennifer, honey ... that's burning a hell of a bridge."

"I don't know about community property laws in this state," said Jennifer. "I never needed to until now. But I figure I'll have a lot more than ten thousand dollars coming to me when it all shakes down. And I'm going to need a place to stay."

"Stay here as long as you want, honey!" said Claudette. "You pick any bed you want and it's yours for as long as you need. In fact, you want one of the private rooms?"

"Those are for families," said Jennifer.

"Well yes, but ..."

"Those are for families, Claudette!"

"Yes, Ma'am. Do we need to call the cops?" She started looking Jennifer over.

"No. He didn't hit me. He doesn't even know he's going to divorce me," she said. She looked at her watch. "Well ... maybe he does by now."

Claudette had been called away, so Jennifer had made one other transfer of funds, another ten thousand, into a bank account she'd had when she got married, and had never closed. She expected Roger to cut her off, and she'd need something to survive on until the courts worked everything out.

She made one trip back to the house the next day, going at ten in the morning and hoping that without her there Tiffany had still gone to school. She took only clothing, enough to last her a couple of weeks. It had been a long time since she'd had to wash her clothes in a Laundromat, but she made sure to take things that would stand up to that kind of treatment.

He found her in five days by the simple expedient of reporting her as missing to the police. She suspected he knew detectives, and had called in favors. The patrolmen who located her car, and traced her to the shelter, though, wanted nothing to do with a domestic dispute, in which the wife denied physical abuse, and just said she was an adult and didn't have to go home if she didn't feel like it.

Roger arrived an hour later and demanded to see her. Rather than make a scene, she walked outside and leaned against the building.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked, his voice harsh. "You can't live here. It's making me look like a fool!"

"You are a fool, Roger," she said.

"While you've been hiding here, the shit has hit the fan," he hissed. "I personally know of at least ten men who are filing for divorce."

"That's nice. I won't contest it when you file."

"Tiffany has gotten death threats, you stupid cow!"

"I told her there would be consequences if she decided to expose all this. She's never listened to me. She always ran to you and got whatever she wanted. You're a lawyer. File complaints against the wives who are threatening her."

"It isn't the fucking wives!" he yelled. "It's her friends at school!" He hit the wall with his hand, and winced. "She had to close down her Facebook page. I couldn't even let her go to school today!"

"And all this because she wanted to go see a concert and shack up with her friends on the way back," said Jennifer. "She just couldn't stand it that I told her no, and to spite me, she went to you. And you went to the rest of the husbands."

"Of course I went to the rest of the husbands!" he exploded. "Their wives were attending fucking orgies!"

"Well, just for the record," she said, "you're the only man who's ever had intercourse with me since we got married. I knew she wouldn't believe it, and I doubt you will either, but it's true. I was there at the party, but I didn't let any man fuck me." He started to yell but she put her finger on his lips. "And before you go all high and mighty on me, just remember this. The children in this community have known about what was going on up there for who knows how long. It was one of them who told your daughter I was there. They've been keeping it a secret too. Why? Why are they threatening Tiffany? You can bet it's because they were doing the same thing Tiffany tried to do ... blackmail!"

She saw the look on his face, which was red now, and stepped away from him.

"You need some help, Miss Jenny?" asked a hulking black man named Clarence, who appeared as if by magic. Jennifer knew Clarence wouldn't hurt a fly ... but Roger didn't.

"No, thank you, Clarence," said Jennifer. "This is my husband, and he just got some bad news, that's all."

"I won't be your husband for long," growled Roger, his voice low. "You bitch!"

"Hey, dude," said Clarence, his voice casual. "You might want to move on out of here. This is a bad part of town. People wearin' suits like that been known to get roughed up around here. People have accidents, you know, man? And I don't know if that's your Beamer around the corner or not, but if you want anything left of it to drive home, you prolly ought to get back to it. I mean if it's still there and all."

What had top priority in Roger's life at that point in time was made quite clear in the next few seconds.

And it wasn't Jennifer.

It was a sometimes resident of the shelter who handed Jennifer the paper as she stood, ladling out food. The old woman, known only as Bessy, grinned a toothless smile and said "I seen your name in there and figgered you'd want ter see it."

It turned out to be the society pages of the Sunday Times. One page listed all the divorces that had been filed for, and there was story after story on the other pages, where women or men had been interviewed about what had been dubbed "The Silver Lake Scandal." She was surprised to see that Roger had agreed to an interview, since he spent so much of his time telling his own clients to shut up. She understood, when she read how devastated he'd been, and that he'd had to enter therapy, and that their daughter was also in therapy. All he was doing was setting things up so he could leave with her nothing, if at all possible. When she read the part where he said he tried to get her to come back home and save the marriage, only to be chased away from the soup kitchen she was eating at, she tossed the paper and went back to serving food to people who needed it.

Two days later Barney Fisk, general manager of the Goodwill store in town, came by with his weekly truckload of clothing, which people in the shelter could go through and take things from. While that was going on, he wandered over to where Jennifer was supervising six small children's use of paper and crayons.

"You might want to come by the store," he said, giving her a hug. "I have a whole bunch of stuff that might fit you."


"Yeah. Came in the other day. Big donation from a single source. Angry man. Said his wife had taken off, and obviously didn't want the stuff any more. Suggested we give it to people who frequent this shelter."

Her eyes widened. "My clothes?"

He smiled. "I'll hold onto them for a while, at least until you can come by and take a look."

She nodded. "Thanks, Barney," she said. "I'll come by and pick out some things. The rest can go to whoever needs it."

She went the next day, and got some of her favorite things. It was good she did, because she ended up filling up the back seat of the car, and she had just unloaded it all when a man showed up with the title of the car, which Roger had signed over to him. The sale price was listed as one hundred dollars. The man was very nervous, his eyes darting this way and that. He kept saying he didn't want any trouble, but a deal was a deal, and that he'd go get a cop if he had to. Jennifer told him to cool his jets, cleaned her stuff out of the car and then tossed him the keys.

It was two days later when a nervous looking woman, dressed much too well to be in the shelter, came through the line. There were two children with her, but none of them had a tray.

"Are you Jennifer Windham?" she asked.

Jennifer blinked, and was suddenly wary. Very few people at the shelter knew her last name.

"Yes," she said, carefully.

The woman just looked at her for a few seconds.

"I'm Susan," she said. "Roger said he was divorced when we met. So I didn't know he was married to you when I accepted his proposal. We've been married ten years." She blinked and then turned to the boy and girl with her. "This is Timothy and Deborah. They're his children." She turned back to Jennifer. "Now he says there was never a marriage license ... that he made it all up. We got married in a park, and now he says he just hired a man to play the part of a preacher. He swears he wanted to marry me for real ... except he was already married to you."

Jennifer had thought that Susan's reason for coming to the shelter with Roger's ... other ... children, was to rub it in her nose. That would have been horrifying enough. But there was more. When Roger confessed his lies to Susan, he also told her that Jennifer had betrayed her friends and started the whole scandal, which was why he was finally divorcing her. The problem was, as he said it, that he could no longer afford to support two households, because Jennifer was fighting the divorce and costing him tens of thousands of dollars in attorney fees. The house was in Susan's name. She was going to lose it. And Roger had stopped taking her calls.

She asked Jennifer to stop fighting the divorce and let him go, so he could be happy ... so she could be happy. She told Jennifer it was "the right thing to do."

And that was what drove Jennifer Windham back to Christy's Puppet Palace.

The first thing she noticed when she got there was the extra security. And it wasn't dancers who were doubling as bouncers. These were hard-faced men who blocked the door and wanted to see a photo ID.

"Surely you aren't saying I look like I'm under twenty-one," she laughed. "I haven’t been carded in decades!"

"You got an ID or not, ma'am?" asked the one wearing sunglasses.

"No. I brought money, but not my purse. It's only a bother when I come here."

"What's your name?" asked the other one, lifting a clipboard that had what looked like a list of names on it.

It never occurred to her that her name might be on that list.

"Jennifer Windham," she said.

His finger ran down the list and then the clipboard dropped.

"You got to leave," he said. "You can't come in here."

"What? Why not?" She was upset, both because she wanted to see Josh, and because she didn't like anyone telling her what she could and could not do. This was America, after all.

"You're one of them dames whose husbands are suing the Puppet Palace," he said. "Tryin' to close it down. You're trouble, lady, and we don't need no more trouble around here. Now beat it."

There wasn't anything she could do. She gave a very brief thought to trying to sneak in the back or something, but gave that up immediately. They would have all entries covered.

In the end, she caught a cab, and went back to the shelter, where she had a very rough night.

The next day was a roller coaster for Jennifer.

In the morning, her blue mood was brightened when she got a phone call from a man who wanted to hire her in her capacity as a CPA. He had gotten her name from Barney, at the Good Will, who knew the quality of her work by virtue of her having done their books for the previous three years. It was a half time job, and the company provided an office to do the work in. It wasn't enough for both an apartment and a car, but everyone she worked with at the shelter told her to get the car first. They said mobility was more important, since she had someplace to sleep. What they didn't tell her was that her presence at the shelter was worth a lot to them, and they didn't want to lose her. Her presence on the food line brought smiles and laughter to the place, and those were scarce things in a shelter.

Around two thirty, she was served with two legal documents, one the petition for divorce, and the other a court order denying her both custody of and visitation with her daughter, on grounds that she was an "unsavory influence on the impressionable minor."

At five thirty, while she was handing out grilled cheese sandwiches, Tanya Phillips, the volunteer coordinator for the shelter, stepped up beside her and said "I have a new volunteer, Jen. I want you to show him the ropes, okay?"

"Sure," said Jennifer. "I think I'm capable of teaching him how to put a sandwich on somebody's plate."

"Don't count on it," said Tanya. "He's kind of cute. I know I'd get distracted." She stepped back and made the introduction. "Jennifer, this is Josh. Josh, Jennifer will keep you busy tonight."

"I sure hope so," said the voice she knew so well. "I'm looking forward to it."

With her heart thundering in her chest, she turned to see his Oriental features, and that maddening inscrutable smile.

"Hi!" he said. "I'm Josh. But I guess you already know that. Pleased to meet you. Did she say Jennifer? Is it Jen? Or Jenny? Or do you prefer the more formal Jennifer?"

"Stop!" she said, her voice breathless.

He glanced over his shoulder. No one was paying attention to them.

"I heard you came by the club," he said softly, touching her shoulder with his.

"They chased me away!" she said.

"They had to. It's been a zoo ever since the word broke. After two of the husbands showed up waving guns around, they hired real security. The lawyers made them ban all the women who were ever at any of Brandi's parties."

"I guess I understand that."

"So ... are you okay?"

"I've been better," she said, but it was an automatic response. She recognized it as such, and thought about that. In the space of only a few seconds, she identified the most recent time she was "better" as when he was lying in the back of his truck, moaning while she sucked his juice out of his penis. She realized he'd said something that she'd missed.

"What? I'm sorry. I was distracted."

"I said this nice man has been standing here waiting for a sandwich for quite a while."

She saw Fred, a regular, standing there, shuffling from foot to foot, like he always did, his surprisingly good teeth shining through a scruffy beard and mustache. She knew he loved to look at her, but felt guilty when he did. She served him a sandwich and said "Wait right there!"

She went to the back and got out a Hershey's with almonds bar. They weren't on the menu tonight, but she didn't care. She returned to the serving table, where Josh was chatting with Fred and put the chocolate bar on his tray.

"That's for having to wait," she said.

He bobbed his head and trundled off to eat his meal.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Josh as she handed him plastic gloves to put on.

"Well duh ... I'm volunteering," he said.

"Is that the only reason you're here?"

This time all he said was "Well duh."

"What do you want?" she asked.

He looked at her. "You know what I want."

"I do?"

He handed a sandwich to a woman and told her she had a beautiful smile. She hadn't smiled until he said that. "See?" he said, as her face lit up.

"I heard your husband filed for divorce."

"He did that almost a month ago," she said.

"And I was hoping you'd come see me," he went on. "Except you didn't, and I thought that meant you weren't interested."

"Don't be insane," she said softly. "You're the only other man who's touched me in sixteen years. Surely you don't think I did that without thinking about it first, or that you were the lucky guy who just happened to be there when the slut in me came out."

"First, I don't think of you as a slut." He served another customer. "Second, you were under a lot of stress, and everybody knows that stress sometimes makes one do things that one wouldn't otherwise do. And sometimes, when one has time to think about that, one decides those were foolish things to do, and maybe vows never to do them again, or something foolish like that."


"My humble opinion," he said, in a self-deprecating tone. "I've gotten kind of attached to you, and I'd rather you didn't decide I was a foolish thing to do, and decide not to do me any more."

"You're doing him?" asked a girl, about sixteen or so, who had walked down the line while they were talking.

"No!" said Jennifer. "He's speaking in analogous terms, about an alternate reality."

"You mean like in science fiction," said the girl.

"Exactly!" said Jennifer. "Enjoy your dinner." As soon as the girl was gone Jennifer hissed "Stop that!"

"Stop what?" asked a man who looked to be in his early forties. His wife and two kids were in line behind him.

"Nothing!" said Jennifer. "I mean I wasn't talking to you. I'm sorry."

"This guy bothering you?" asked the man, looking at Josh.

"Constantly," said Josh. "I'm her boyfriend."

"Really?" The man looked interested.

"Quit flirting with her, Harold!" said his wife from behind him.

"I'm not flirting!" he complained. "How could I be flirting? That's her boyfriend standing right beside her!"

"He's your boyfriend already?" asked Tanya, who had returned to see how Josh was doing. "Good Lord, woman, you sure work fast." She held up a hand as Jennifer started to object. "None of my business, baby. And everybody around here knows you deserve some happiness. More power to you." She grinned and shook her head. Then, looking at Josh, she said "Careful, Tiger. She's a handful. Trust me on that." She turned away to move down the line.

"Now people think I'm your girlfriend!" hissed Jennifer.

"Then you must be," he said, handing out two more sandwiches.

She was a wreck by the time their shift was over. He had been cool as a cucumber. As a performer, he had developed the skills needed to interact with customers, and he used them to his advantage with the clients at the shelter. They all loved him. Meanwhile, being so close to him and not being able to touch him ... or be touched by him ... drove her crazy.

Five minutes before it was time to go she undid her apron and threw it in the pile to be washed.

He knew by then that she'd been staying at the shelter ... that she was homeless, and that her beautiful car was gone. She knew that the club had been hopping, ever since women found out that the men who danced there had attended overnight orgies. The women's fantasies were supercharged after that, and the tables were all full every night. The guys loved it, other than the fact that there had been a drive by shooting. The gun involved had been a shotgun, though, with bird shot, at that, and it had caused only minor damage to one exterior wall.

When he said "Coffee?" she hacked out a ragged laugh. She pulled him into the alley, where the employee entrance was, and pushed him up against the wall for a long, passionate kiss. When it was over she finally spoke.

"I need a lot more than coffee tonight."

She didn't get the smile she expected. He was quite serious as he said "Come home with me tonight."

The fact that she was saying "Okay" before he was even finished made her feel like a slut.

An hour later she was convinced she was one.

She hadn't even stopped to look around his apartment. Once they got inside the door she was tearing at her clothes, asking where the bedroom was. Then, knowing she smelled like grease and food, she barked "Shower!" only to have him pick her up over his shoulder, growling "No way. I've had to wait way too long for this. I'm not waiting for you to take a shower. We'll both take one in a little bit."

She had kicked and squealed, but with his shoulder in her diaphragm, it was hard to breathe. Then he threw her on the bed, and she bounced, feeling weightless, until suddenly he was on her like an animal, covering her, pressing her into the bed, his fingers feeling between her legs, where she knew she was soaked. She'd been soaked for over an hour, just being next to him.

Then she felt pressure and she was suddenly filled, not ruthlessly, but quickly. Not having felt that for over a year, she wasn't ready for it and when his pubic bone hit hers, and crushed her clit, she grunted and then felt exhilarating fear as an orgasm stabbed into her groin. She hardly had time to gasp, and he was thrusting, slowly, but deeply, as that surprise orgasm tried to figure out if it could end, or needed to be extended. Each time he crushed her clit she thrust her hips upward, trying to extend the exquisite feelings she hadn't felt in so long.

Then he pushed in and rotated his loins against her.

"I love you, Jennifer Windham," he grunted. "I've loved you since the night I met you. You own my heart. I can't live without you, and trying to these past months has been torture. Don't ever leave me like that again. Got it?"

All she could do, though was bite her lower lip and nod frantically, because his continued rubbing had opened up something in her she hadn't been aware was even there. It was a whole different kind of orgasm, one that was deeply rooted in her bones, almost, and which set fire to her whole body. That cleansing fire, though, only lifted her, like smoke, to a place where she felt like she could just stay forever. If life could feel like this, even only for a few days, then she'd never ask for anything again.

He stroked her again, and she gurgled.

"Stay with me, baby," he whispered into the hair covering her ear. "I have something for you."

Within half a minute she knew what he had in mind. He was going to stay in her. She could feel it in her bones. He knew she was helpless ... available to be fertilized ... ripe. And as a male, he was about to claim her as his female. His gradual increase in speed, matched by the huffing and puffing of his breath on her shoulder, told her he was close. He was going to mate with her.

Then his face was hovering over hers, his eyes wide, his face tight.

"Let me?" he whimpered. "Pleeeease?"

Her hands came to his face and pulled him down for a kiss. She'd never wanted a man's sperm like she wanted this man's sperm, right now, right here.

He gasped into her kiss, and slammed hard, twisting his body, mushing his lips over hers, groaning and then, as his lips slid off hers, crying out into her neck.

She felt the swelling jerks of his penis inside her, and the wet warmth of his offering. She wrapped her legs around him and strained upwards against him. welding their loins together as best she could. In that instant, not only did she not care if he impregnated her ... she hoped he did. Later, she would shake her head at her foolishness, at the idiocy passion and hormones demanded of her. She would think of Tiffany, and judge herself unfit to be a mother again.

But in that instant, she wanted what he wanted ... a child ... Josh Hamilton's child.

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