Romance Fiction posted June 26, 2022 |
Life Happens!
Femme Fatale?
by Terry Broxson
HIS STORY
Was she a femme fatale? I didn't think so at first. Back in the day, I would call her a smoking hot, beautiful girl. Sexy might be a better word. That may sound a little odd, but guys know what I mean. A femme fatale seduced and caused distress or disaster for a man.
A femme fatale often involved herself with a married man. Some thought she had her eyes on some prize the man might offer. Maybe something like money, prestige, or power. I had none of those possessions. But I was married.
I married a girl I had known for five months. A few weeks later, I received a promotion to Dallas for a job that paid more and had more opportunities. My wife and I moved into an apartment. She stayed ten days and returned home to live with her mother and father. They lived a hundred and fifteen miles away.
My wife told me, "When you give up that job and return to Waco, we can get another place to live together, but I am not living in Dallas." This had gone on for four months. I had no idea how to resolve the issue.
But things would change. A new girl was hired. She came by the office on a Saturday. I was working as usual. She asked, "How would you like to come to my place for spaghetti dinner this evening?" It was an easy question to answer.
HER STORY
I could have met him in West Texas. He graduated high school two years ahead of me. We grew up twenty minutes from each other. Or maybe in Austin during my junior year at the University of Texas while he attended law school. But I met him in Dallas. After graduating college, I started my first job and looked forward to making my mark in the business world.
My father invested in developing properties. My mother owned a retail clothing store. Both of them were successful. I wanted to prove myself.
I had a serious relationship with a man during my senior year in college. At least, I thought it to be serious. Maybe not so serious for him. But graduation ended it. I wonder what ever happened to him.
When I got to Dallas, I met the office manager. A tall guy with curly red hair, not cute exactly, but he had a way about him. He had an air of self-confidence. One of the girls in the office said his wife did not live with him. I wondered what that meant.
On a Saturday, I stopped by the office. He supervised a weekend crew. On an impulsive whim, I invited him to dinner. I had no plan. I could only cook spaghetti. He accepted.
HIS STORY
I bought a bottle of Mateus wine. It paired well with spaghetti and French bread. But we started with bourbon. I liked this girl. I think she liked me. At some point, someone offered a back rub. A little later, she said, "Are you going to do anything or not?" She just asked a life-changing question.
The following day, I called my soon-to-be ex-wife to inform her of her new status. "I want a divorce." She replied, "You called me before breakfast to say that." "Yep." I thought I sounded like Gary Cooper.
HER STORY
I didn't know what to think when he told me he started plans for a divorce. That I never expected. Our "relationship" at this point consisted of spaghetti and one—okay, romantic night! I did hope for a few more, but if he became single. I didn't know what to expect.
HIS STORY
Getting divorced is a process. She didn't want any part of it. She said, "You know I am Catholic. I can't get divorced."
I responded, "Well, I'm not Catholic. I'll take care of it." I found a lawyer who said he could handle it for three hundred dollars. I had maybe seventy-five bucks to last a week after paying bills.
I went to my bank to borrow the three hundred dollars, and they said, "No, we don't get involved in domestic situations." I opened a checking account at a different bank. I inquired if I could borrow five hundred dollars for a vacation trip to Galveston Island. "Sure, no problem." It's all in the presentation.
My wife came to the apartment with her father and his pickup to get everything she wanted. There were some clothes. They took a few things in the kitchen and a new console stereo record player. I helped her daddy carry it all to a mostly empty pickup. Thankfully, he took his daughter with him.
HER STORY
His divorce became final a year after our first spaghetti dinner. We would spend the weekends at my apartment. We had a lot of spaghetti, Lancer's wine, and Benchmark Bourbon. Our time was fun, intense, private, and personal. I was in love. Not that I would have told him.
We never told anyone at the office about us. Once, he sent me roses three days in a row. Each day, the roses were a different color. The staff wondered who sent them. I never said a word. Frankly, the secret added to the excitement.
HIS STORY
I think a femme fatale would have caused distress. I felt no distress—maybe a magic spell. I did want to touch her all the time. She made no objections. She made suggestions. After the divorce, we continued to date for another six months or so. Once, she said, "Do you want to date other people?" I told her no. I should have told her I loved her.
HER STORY
I went to Europe on vacation with my sister. Before leaving, I had lunch with my mother. She and Dad had met him a few times. During lunch, Mother said, "You know he is just a redhead; they never amount to a hill of beans."
I thought about her observation during my two-week vacation.
HIS STORY
When she returned from a European vacation, she told me we should move in other directions. So, I did. I quit my job and found another in Houston.
HER STORY
He quit his job and moved to Houston. A little while later, I also quit my job and moved to a lake resort, which my father was developing south of Austin. I started selling lake lots. I did not date much for three years and then met a civil engineer. I married him when I was thirty.
As far as the guy in Dallas was concerned, I stayed in touch by sending Christmas cards. Those cards did give him some insights into my life.
I love my husband. Today, I have three daughters, three sons-in-law, and four grandkids. I love how my life turned out.
HIS STORY
I did meet a beautiful woman. We were married and had many wonderful years together. We achieved things neither one of us could have envisioned. She died a while back.
From a fifty-year perspective, I can now say that what happened so long ago was not the work of a femme fatale. She expedited a failed marriage that never should have happened. Was she a heartbreaker? Absolutely! But life happens.
HIS STORY
Was she a femme fatale? I didn't think so at first. Back in the day, I would call her a smoking hot, beautiful girl. Sexy might be a better word. That may sound a little odd, but guys know what I mean. A femme fatale seduced and caused distress or disaster for a man.
A femme fatale often involved herself with a married man. Some thought she had her eyes on some prize the man might offer. Maybe something like money, prestige, or power. I had none of those possessions. But I was married.
I married a girl I had known for five months. A few weeks later, I received a promotion to Dallas for a job that paid more and had more opportunities. My wife and I moved into an apartment. She stayed ten days and returned home to live with her mother and father. They lived a hundred and fifteen miles away.
My wife told me, "When you give up that job and return to Waco, we can get another place to live together, but I am not living in Dallas." This had gone on for four months. I had no idea how to resolve the issue.
But things would change. A new girl was hired. She came by the office on a Saturday. I was working as usual. She asked, "How would you like to come to my place for spaghetti dinner this evening?" It was an easy question to answer.
HER STORY
I could have met him in West Texas. He graduated high school two years ahead of me. We grew up twenty minutes from each other. Or maybe in Austin during my junior year at the University of Texas while he attended law school. But I met him in Dallas. After graduating college, I started my first job and looked forward to making my mark in the business world.
My father invested in developing properties. My mother owned a retail clothing store. Both of them were successful. I wanted to prove myself.
I had a serious relationship with a man during my senior year in college. At least, I thought it to be serious. Maybe not so serious for him. But graduation ended it. I wonder what ever happened to him.
When I got to Dallas, I met the office manager. A tall guy with curly red hair, not cute exactly, but he had a way about him. He had an air of self-confidence. One of the girls in the office said his wife did not live with him. I wondered what that meant.
On a Saturday, I stopped by the office. He supervised a weekend crew. On an impulsive whim, I invited him to dinner. I had no plan. I could only cook spaghetti. He accepted.
HIS STORY
I bought a bottle of Mateus wine. It paired well with spaghetti and French bread. But we started with bourbon. I liked this girl. I think she liked me. At some point, someone offered a back rub. A little later, she said, "Are you going to do anything or not?" She just asked a life-changing question.
The following day, I called my soon-to-be ex-wife to inform her of her new status. "I want a divorce." She replied, "You called me before breakfast to say that." "Yep." I thought I sounded like Gary Cooper.
HER STORY
I didn't know what to think when he told me he started plans for a divorce. That I never expected. Our "relationship" at this point consisted of spaghetti and one—okay, romantic night! I did hope for a few more, but if he became single. I didn't know what to expect.
HIS STORY
Getting divorced is a process. She didn't want any part of it. She said, "You know I am Catholic. I can't get divorced."
Was she a femme fatale? I didn't think so at first. Back in the day, I would call her a smoking hot, beautiful girl. Sexy might be a better word. That may sound a little odd, but guys know what I mean. A femme fatale seduced and caused distress or disaster for a man.
A femme fatale often involved herself with a married man. Some thought she had her eyes on some prize the man might offer. Maybe something like money, prestige, or power. I had none of those possessions. But I was married.
I married a girl I had known for five months. A few weeks later, I received a promotion to Dallas for a job that paid more and had more opportunities. My wife and I moved into an apartment. She stayed ten days and returned home to live with her mother and father. They lived a hundred and fifteen miles away.
My wife told me, "When you give up that job and return to Waco, we can get another place to live together, but I am not living in Dallas." This had gone on for four months. I had no idea how to resolve the issue.
But things would change. A new girl was hired. She came by the office on a Saturday. I was working as usual. She asked, "How would you like to come to my place for spaghetti dinner this evening?" It was an easy question to answer.
HER STORY
I could have met him in West Texas. He graduated high school two years ahead of me. We grew up twenty minutes from each other. Or maybe in Austin during my junior year at the University of Texas while he attended law school. But I met him in Dallas. After graduating college, I started my first job and looked forward to making my mark in the business world.
My father invested in developing properties. My mother owned a retail clothing store. Both of them were successful. I wanted to prove myself.
I had a serious relationship with a man during my senior year in college. At least, I thought it to be serious. Maybe not so serious for him. But graduation ended it. I wonder what ever happened to him.
When I got to Dallas, I met the office manager. A tall guy with curly red hair, not cute exactly, but he had a way about him. He had an air of self-confidence. One of the girls in the office said his wife did not live with him. I wondered what that meant.
On a Saturday, I stopped by the office. He supervised a weekend crew. On an impulsive whim, I invited him to dinner. I had no plan. I could only cook spaghetti. He accepted.
HIS STORY
I bought a bottle of Mateus wine. It paired well with spaghetti and French bread. But we started with bourbon. I liked this girl. I think she liked me. At some point, someone offered a back rub. A little later, she said, "Are you going to do anything or not?" She just asked a life-changing question.
The following day, I called my soon-to-be ex-wife to inform her of her new status. "I want a divorce." She replied, "You called me before breakfast to say that." "Yep." I thought I sounded like Gary Cooper.
HER STORY
I didn't know what to think when he told me he started plans for a divorce. That I never expected. Our "relationship" at this point consisted of spaghetti and one—okay, romantic night! I did hope for a few more, but if he became single. I didn't know what to expect.
HIS STORY
Getting divorced is a process. She didn't want any part of it. She said, "You know I am Catholic. I can't get divorced."
I responded, "Well, I'm not Catholic. I'll take care of it." I found a lawyer who said he could handle it for three hundred dollars. I had maybe seventy-five bucks to last a week after paying bills.
I went to my bank to borrow the three hundred dollars, and they said, "No, we don't get involved in domestic situations." I opened a checking account at a different bank. I inquired if I could borrow five hundred dollars for a vacation trip to Galveston Island. "Sure, no problem." It's all in the presentation.
My wife came to the apartment with her father and his pickup to get everything she wanted. There were some clothes. They took a few things in the kitchen and a new console stereo record player. I helped her daddy carry it all to a mostly empty pickup. Thankfully, he took his daughter with him.
HER STORY
His divorce became final a year after our first spaghetti dinner. We would spend the weekends at my apartment. We had a lot of spaghetti, Lancer's wine, and Benchmark Bourbon. Our time was fun, intense, private, and personal. I was in love. Not that I would have told him.
We never told anyone at the office about us. Once, he sent me roses three days in a row. Each day, the roses were a different color. The staff wondered who sent them. I never said a word. Frankly, the secret added to the excitement.
HIS STORY
I think a femme fatale would have caused distress. I felt no distress—maybe a magic spell. I did want to touch her all the time. She made no objections. She made suggestions. After the divorce, we continued to date for another six months or so. Once, she said, "Do you want to date other people?" I told her no. I should have told her I loved her.
HER STORY
I went to Europe on vacation with my sister. Before leaving, I had lunch with my mother. She and Dad had met him a few times. During lunch, Mother said, "You know he is just a redhead; they never amount to a hill of beans."
I went to my bank to borrow the three hundred dollars, and they said, "No, we don't get involved in domestic situations." I opened a checking account at a different bank. I inquired if I could borrow five hundred dollars for a vacation trip to Galveston Island. "Sure, no problem." It's all in the presentation.
My wife came to the apartment with her father and his pickup to get everything she wanted. There were some clothes. They took a few things in the kitchen and a new console stereo record player. I helped her daddy carry it all to a mostly empty pickup. Thankfully, he took his daughter with him.
HER STORY
His divorce became final a year after our first spaghetti dinner. We would spend the weekends at my apartment. We had a lot of spaghetti, Lancer's wine, and Benchmark Bourbon. Our time was fun, intense, private, and personal. I was in love. Not that I would have told him.
We never told anyone at the office about us. Once, he sent me roses three days in a row. Each day, the roses were a different color. The staff wondered who sent them. I never said a word. Frankly, the secret added to the excitement.
HIS STORY
I think a femme fatale would have caused distress. I felt no distress—maybe a magic spell. I did want to touch her all the time. She made no objections. She made suggestions. After the divorce, we continued to date for another six months or so. Once, she said, "Do you want to date other people?" I told her no. I should have told her I loved her.
HER STORY
I went to Europe on vacation with my sister. Before leaving, I had lunch with my mother. She and Dad had met him a few times. During lunch, Mother said, "You know he is just a redhead; they never amount to a hill of beans."
I thought about her observation during my two-week vacation.
HIS STORY
When she returned from a European vacation, she told me we should move in other directions. So, I did. I quit my job and found another in Houston.
HER STORY
He quit his job and moved to Houston. A little while later, I also quit my job and moved to a lake resort, which my father was developing south of Austin. I started selling lake lots. I did not date much for three years and then met a civil engineer. I married him when I was thirty.
As far as the guy in Dallas was concerned, I stayed in touch by sending Christmas cards. Those cards did give him some insights into my life.
I love my husband. Today, I have three daughters, three sons-in-law, and four grandkids. I love how my life turned out.
HIS STORY
I did meet a beautiful woman. We were married and had many wonderful years together. We achieved things neither one of us could have envisioned. She died a while back.
From a fifty-year perspective, I can now say that what happened so long ago was not the work of a femme fatale. She expedited a failed marriage that never should have happened. Was she a heartbreaker? Absolutely! But life happens.
HIS STORY
When she returned from a European vacation, she told me we should move in other directions. So, I did. I quit my job and found another in Houston.
HER STORY
He quit his job and moved to Houston. A little while later, I also quit my job and moved to a lake resort, which my father was developing south of Austin. I started selling lake lots. I did not date much for three years and then met a civil engineer. I married him when I was thirty.
As far as the guy in Dallas was concerned, I stayed in touch by sending Christmas cards. Those cards did give him some insights into my life.
I love my husband. Today, I have three daughters, three sons-in-law, and four grandkids. I love how my life turned out.
HIS STORY
I did meet a beautiful woman. We were married and had many wonderful years together. We achieved things neither one of us could have envisioned. She died a while back.
From a fifty-year perspective, I can now say that what happened so long ago was not the work of a femme fatale. She expedited a failed marriage that never should have happened. Was she a heartbreaker? Absolutely! But life happens.
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