Chapter 1
Chapter 1
“God damn it, Roger!” Valerie yelled, hitting all the keys on her laptop as it froze for the fifth time that day.
“What is it, hun?” Roger called back, nonplussed, walking into the room as he buttoned his dress shirt up, barely paying her any attention.
“The stupid laptop you bought me! It froze again. I wish you’d have just bought me an IPad!” She moaned, but Roger merely shrugged.
“So I’ll buy you an IPad,” he replied flatly, grabbing his tie off of the dresser and wrapping it around his collar.
“Fucking Christ, Roger, I’ve already got all my favorite websites and logins and passwords on here, it’d take me forever to switch it over!” She fussed, holding the power key down until the laptop’s screen turned black.
“So take it to the store and get them to fix it,” he told her, grabbing a pair of shoes and lacing them up.
“I don’t want to take it to a store!” She snapped. “I just want it to work!”
Roger rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath and staring at his beautiful wife for a moment.
She was barely 24, and they’d been married for a little over two years. She had fiery red hair to match her fiery attitude, big green eyes and an incredibly curvy figure: thin waist, big ass, long milky legs, standing at 5′ 8". Her tits had been the size of peaches when they’d met, but Roger had quickly offered to pay for her implants as long as he got to pick the size, and she’d jumped on it, her triple D’s bouncing in front of him as she huffed and puffed.
And there Roger sat, almost twice her age, grey and balding, pudgy and disinterested. She was the perfect trophy wife, beautiful in every sense of the word. She looked like Jessica Rabbit or Joan from Mad Men.
“Then take it to the kid down the block, Paul or whatever, his parents told me he’s going to school for computer science, he could probably fix it for you. Hell, I bet if you ask real nicely and shake those tits for him, he’ll do it for free.”
She glared at him, but he just shrugged and grabbed his luggage.
“I’m sorry, Val, I just don’t have time for this,” he said, putting on his jacket. “I’ve got a flight to catch, I’ll be back in two weeks.”
He came up to her and bent down, and she kissed his lips lightly, still pouting as he walked out.
“Love you,” he called.
“Love you too,” she replied, tossing her laptop on the bed and lying back, sighing deeply.
**********************
Paul Scott was sitting on his bed playing video games when he heard his mother calling him.
“Paul!” She bellowed, and he groaned.
“Hold on!” He yelled back, hoping she’d forget.
“Paul!” She yelled again, this time louder and more insistent.
“Sorry guys, gotta go,” he told his friends through his headset, and they all yelled at him for quitting halfway through a campaign.
“Can’t help it, my mom’s yelling at me.” He replied.
“Fuckin’ pussy!” One of his friends laughed as he signed off, tossing the headset on his bed before standing up and walking out the door.
Paul had just finished his senior year of high school and was now enjoying his first summer before starting college. He was smart, he’d made good grades all throughout high school, choosing to go to the local community college for his associates before venturing off to a four year. He’d have a full ride, and it would cut down considerably any student loans if he stayed with his parents, who had a little saved up for his college tuition. It was practical, it was frugal, but it wasn’t exactly as exciting as some of his classmate’s plans.
He could hear his mom talking to someone in the living room as he walked down the stairs, rolling his eyes at whatever company his mother thought worthy enough to interrupt his afternoon. But when he turned the corner, he found himself staring at Valerie Mansfield, Valerie Mansfield, the red headed trophy wife from down the block, Valerie Mansfield, the woman he’d masturbated to the thought of countless times, in a short little tank top and yoga pants, sitting on their couch holding a large bag in her arms, looking over at him, almost angrily.
“Oh, hey,” he said, crossing his arms.
“Paul, Valerie’s laptop is acting up, would you mind taking a look at it?” his mother asked in that well known voice most mothers have, the tone that lets you know their question isn’t a question at all, but a command.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Paul offered, shrugging. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well, it keeps freezing, and it’s gotten a lot slower,” Valerie replied.
