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If you read A Girl Named Sam, you will appreciate that this chapter begins two years and three months later.

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I was walking through the concourse of the Fashion Square Mall when a old familiar voice said, “Hi there, Good Looking.”

I turned to see Sherry. I had not seen her in a little over twelve years and had forgotten just what a pretty woman she is. She’s five foot five and weighs about 115 pounds. Her curves are a little on the soft side but she really looks good. When we were together, I was forty-five, she was thirty, and Sam was ten. She would really be pissed if she knew that I had fucked Sam a couple of years ago, even if I didn’t know that Sam was her daughter at the time.
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I sat at the kitchen table the letter from the IRS almost shaking in my hand. Cash had been very tight for Jenny and I recently anyway, and this seemed like the last straw. My wife sat opposite me. For a moment neither of us spoke, the hard reality of a demand for $10,000 slowly sinking in.

“Christ, Jenny. I don’t know what we’re going to do now,” I said in a shaky whisper. “We’re tapped out already. This is going to finish us off!”

“Surely it can’t be that bad, Dave?” Replied Jenny, her usual warm smile noticeably absent. “How much is there in our savings account?”
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I lay in bed next to Jared, my face resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Breaths coming regularly, my body pressing against him with each movement of my chest, I was content. Today we were man and wife, a married couple, something more adult than I’d ever imagined that I would be. I could hear the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the sandy beaches outside of our hotel room, our honeymoon just beginning.

“You awake, Sarah?” Jared asked, his face twisting and my nook’s availability gone. Looking up, I smiled sleepily at him.
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My wife and I recently got back from a holiday in the Bahamas, and since we returned our relationship has changed drastically. She ignores everything I say, openly flirts with other men in front of me and sometimes stays out all night without letting me know where she is.

We have been married for five years, and although at twenty-five, Sally is seven years younger than me, we have always got on brilliantly. When I started seeing her I couldn’t believe my luck. She is not stunningly beautiful, but has an amazing body and a really fun personality. I used to try to encourage her to show off her body more, but she always used to say that it was for my eyes only. Sometimes it’s better that you don’t get what you wish for.
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From my vantage point sat at the bar I could see the couple clearly. Actually, I could hear them: their argument had become increasingly more vocal in the last few minutes. I watched and listened. The couple spoke to each other in the tired fashion born of several years marriage and from what I could gather, she wanted to stay on the beach, whilst he was keen to return to their hotel room. A few more heated words were exchanged before the husband leapt to his feet with an angry scowl and, picking up his towel and cigarettes, stormed off in the direction of the plush Atlantic Hotel.
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The following is fiction. It is not meant to portray any specific individuals. I hope it is taken as a tribute to true heroes. It is not in any way intended to trivialize the events of September 11, 2001.

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He was exhausted, sweaty, gritty, and dirty. Despite his tremendous efforts for the last 48 hours, he felt guilty and helpless.
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Angry

Yes, I’m angry. Angry at myself because I can’t resist giving in to that dominate lust I experienced after years. It’s that strong, that common sense is overpowered by the urge. Weekly now my ugly, fat old black body is the possessing of a young white stranger with a horny obsessing for it. I think it’s an unhealthy desire and also cannot believe this young white man can find some attraction in it. And I give in to his sick desire, because I’m too weak to put an end to this. Let me explain:
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In the ten years that we have been married, my wife, Sandra has never worked. I am fortunate to have a good position in a top legal firm and easily make enough for both of us to live very comfortably on. This being the case, I was most surprised when, returning from work one evening, Sandra greeted me with the news that she had found herself a job.

“It’s working from home, so I won’t even have to go out to an office!” she enthused.

I was immediately suspicious. I knew that she spent a lot of her free time on the Internet, and I was well aware of the pitfalls of so-called home-working.
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Dear readers. I rushed this story a bit in order to give you one final chapter, before a very, very long break. I have left a place for a partially written chapter 60 for which I simply don’t have time or enthusiasm to finish these days.

By clicking on a blue Wm_Sexspear, you’ll be taken to my Profile; at the bottom of the page you’ll find a list of all the currently available chapters. THIS SHOULD MAKE IT EASY TO READ THEM ALL, IN SEQUENCE, WHICH IS HEARTILY SUGGESTED so the reader can follow the story line, character development, and catch the inside jokes.
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The Shuffle

Last night I treated my wife like a queen. We’ve been going through a rough patch lately and this seemed the time to set things right. I’d taken the day off from work, ostensively to take our two kids (one of each; Jack fourteen, Chayna twelve) to a weeklong soccer camp, but mostly to make sure everything was perfect. I began by sending two-dozen long stem red roses to Melinda at her work. I wrote the note myself:

Roses are red
My love for you true
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