[sinclairfan]

Epilogue II

Sorry I don't know when to quit.  I'm a functionally separated wife.  I have no one to talk to.  Just you.

Thank you for listening.

On the Third Sunday of Lent, I went to Sunday Mass.  I was envious of Kelli picking up lonely men at Sunday Mass and making out with them.

The Third Sunday of Lent has the long gospel reading from the Book of John, Chapter 4 I think.  He's at the well.  The pickup spot of Syriac civilization.

The Son of Man.  Hitting on a divorced woman.  What's sexier than that?

I listen to the priest reading from the Gospel of John.  My eyes lock with a twenty-something man at Sundsy Mass alone.  We get in Communion line together.  We have coffee together after Mass.  I follow him home in my car.

We make out without speaking.  His tongue is in my mouth so aggressively, I feel like I'm playing middle school spin the bottle.

Kelli is right.  He doesn't want to fuck.  He just wants to tongue kiss.

It occurs to me that the divorcee in John 4 is
So
Fucking
Hot.

I should go to Mass more.

I cum.  Completely clothed, but I still cum hard.

"There's a woman in Dallas I totally fucking hate," I tell my Sunday Mass pickup.

"Is she pretty?," he asks me.

"Of course.  I hate her for that."

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Epilogue III

As my millennial (OMG!  I'm making out with a Millennial....at my age!) lover and I lounge around on Sunday afternoon, I realize the pre-pandemic, Sunday afternoon was travel day for me.  I'd fly out to the client on Sunday night; fly back home Thursday night.  If that week's trip was to Atlanta, which it often was, I'd rendezvous with my married Atlanta lover, the one I shred with Kelli, and get fucked.

I loved getting fucked.

Why isn't my new millennial fucking me?  Why is just making out enough for him?

Does he want me to suck his cock?  I've never been much into that, I realize.

The man should have to do work, too.  He should fuck his woman.

I read the Church bulletin from morning Mass.  It talks about what a subtle reading this morning's Gospel reading is, from Chapter 4 of John.  The divorced woman who encounters Jesus and flirts with him calls him, progressively, Sir, then Teacher, then Lord, then Messiah, then King.

She is learning about him as she onteracts with him.  I'm learning about others in my life during the pandemic.  What their sexual desires are.  And how they mesh with mine.

My first husband, the Lithuanian cook, deserved better from me.  We were a good fit sexually.  The Lithuanian divorce attorney hit the jackpot with him.  She should thank me everyday for me losing him to her.

The Advest bankers who fucked me were good fits sexually.  And I loved the money they had.  I should have married one of them.

My second husband, to whom I'm still married, was a terrible fit sexually.  We had good sex maybe 4 times in our marriage.  5, tops.

Kelli was a good fit sexually with me.  But I'm straight.

I loved fucking her.  And fighting her.

My millennial lover isn't going to fuck me.  I can tell.

I eonder if he can find me a fight tonight.

> Do you have any lady friend you could invite over on short notice?  Would you like watching her and me fight?

> Like, argue?  Or actually fight?

> I don't know.  Let's see what happens.  I'm game for just about anything.  As long as she's in my weight class.

> She'll be younger than you.  Is that ok? 

> How old do you think I am??  [I hope that doesn't sound defensive.]

> 42??  [I get wet.  He thinks I'm quite a bit younger than I actually am.  Women love that.]

> Ya, around that.  And, yes, it's ok if she's younger.

> [He takes out his phone and starts texting.  I wonder how he's asking.  And how he knows her.  And wby he thought of her.  Has she mentioned liking to fight?]

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Epilogue IV

As my Millennial lover and I wait for his lady friend (is she his fuck buddy, maybe?  do young singles still keep fuck buddies?  or is Hookup Culture so all-pervasive that a fuck buddy is redundant?) to arrive, it occurs to me that she'll be the same age, from the same generation, as girls my son would have brought home.

If he had ever gotten into the habit of bringing home girlfriends to his Mother.

Why did he never bring home a girlfriend when visiting me?  For a short window of time, I used to worry if it was because he was gay.  Later, I just chalked it up to he and I "not having that type of Mother/Son relationship".

Which was sad.

And, finally, I decided it was his music lifestyle.  That he kept his family life and his music life separate.  And the his music life girls were the type of girls you don't bring home to Mom.

What type of girl is about to come over, to cat it out with me?

Where did my new boyfriend meet her?  As in, in real life?  Or on Tinder?  (Is Tinder still the hookup site?  Or has the internet moved on to The Bext Thing?)

When they have sex, is his aggressive tongue kissing enough for her?  Does she not need actual fucking?  Or does she suck his cock?  I read somewhere that Millennial girls are less inhibited about that than my generation.  And that they're really good at it.

And that they're really good at fighting.  I'm unusual for my generation.  I was exposed to Waterbury streetfighting girls at a young age.  A typical girl in my generation didn't get much chance to fight in high school or college.  If a fight did happen, it was all hush-hush.

But Millennial girls fight out in the semi-open now, on Instagram and Snapchat.  They call each other out by sliding into each others'  DMs, and then meet IRL to fight.

Fighting is all about experience.  And they get experience at a young age.

Is that who's coming over to fight me now?  An experienced Millennial girl?

I'm still in my Sunday Mass clothes, and there's nothing available to change into.  No way to signal to her that I'm in the mood to fight.

I go into the bathroom.  There's assorted barettes in the medicine cabinet.  My Millinnial lover obviously has women over overnight.

I pin my hair up.  She'll see I'm prepared to catfight.

This should be interesting.

My pussy is soaked.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Epilogue V

At just before 4:30, just as I was wondering if my make-out partner was really the sort of man who could conjure a ladyfriend on short notice, a stunning, tall, thin, young blonde in a tight sweater presented herself at the door.  She seemed like an artsy-fartsy type, maybe 26 or 27.  She was affectionate with him.  And aloof to me.  She seemed as doubtful as I was about our mutual lover being a womanizer.

I had heard stories about perpetual grad students securing Sugar Daddies for themselves to fund their expensive tuition-laden lifestyles (not to mention the opportunity cost of not working a full-time job).  My woman's intuition told me right away--OMG!  He's her sugar daddy.  He pays her to make out with him.  She does it to pay for grad school at Temple or Drexel or Villianova or LaSalle or Lehigh or Wharton whatever.

What a slut.
And what a bitch.

She and I don't greet each other.
Hell, we don't even acknowledge each other.

She's trying to size me up.  If this is a prank (it's almost April Fools Day, right?).  Am I an aunt of his? 

Does she think I'm old?  He guess 42.  Does she think I'm older?  Younger?

I hope younger.

She must have noticed by now that my hair is up.  Does she think it's there to fight?  I wish it was down now.  So she could see how fucking gorgeous my hair is.  Much thicker than hers.  But hers is longer.  Nice body on it--not stringy at all.

She's wearing winter boots.  I'm barefoot.  She knows I won't jump her while her boots are on--too much chance she'll kick me in the face or belly.

But she won't take them off yet.  Too much chance I'll jump her while she's not ready.

The tension is thick in the room.

Our lover has a full erection.  He's anticipating what might happen next.

So am I.

To be continued.....

[sinclairfan]

Epilogue VI

Sometimes women's intuition, and nothing else, is worth all the tea in China.  The Third Sunday of Lent proves to be one of those times.

I can't stand the obtuse silence between me and the sweatered, literary blonde any longer.

On a hunch she's going to [Catholic] Drexel, I speak to her.

> I've always been partial to the John 4 Gospel reading about the 5-times divorced woman.  I hear it read this morning at Mass.  I found hearing it .... invigorating.

> [The bitchy blonde is pondering whether to engage.]  My priest read it this morning as well.  [OMG OMG !! I knew it.  She's Catholic, too.]  I much prefer it to the optional Luke reading  for Year C.  I take it you're divorced?  Multiple times??  [Her accent is a forced British accent, a la William F. Buckley.  But I can tell she's pure Main Line Plilly.]

> I'm divorced once, sweetie.  You know that means multiple men have desired me, correct?  [Shit.  How am I letting this whore--literally; a literal whore--get under my skin?  Cam down, Carol.]

> I hope I never get divorced.  I'd be mortified.  My condolences.  Bitch.

[I let her insult linger in the air.  I know I'm the better woman.  I'll be thd bigger one, too.]

> Are we going to lob insults?  Or discuss John 4?

>  Discuss.  I'm listening.

> You first.  I told you what I thought.  Or,.... so I thought.

> I don't think you did.  BUT .... what I think is..... John 4 is an empowering feminist narrative.  Everything about it.  A woman speaking for herself.  A Samaritan women speaking up to a Judean.  I walk away from it feeling .... invincible, really.  Like I can have why I want.  Maybe ... just maybe ... that's why I came this afternoon.  And maybe why you're here, too ... if you heard it read this morning.

> Hmmmm .... maybe.  Maybe ... one of us is invincible .... and the other isn't.

> Oh .... u think so, sweetie?

I can smell cum between my legs.

To be continued....

[sinclairfan]

Epilogue VII

The mounting tension between my blonde rival and me is thoroughly exhilarating.

Exhilarating to me.
And a threat to her.

A threat to her, because if our mutual lover can get make-out sessions without paying for them, he will disconnect from her.  She'll need to found other revenue streams to defray her Drexel tuition costs.  She get even deeper into student debt than she already is.  Which is no doubt what drove her in the first place to enter into her Sugar Daddy relationship.

I remember reading in the New York Times one morning that Sugar Daddies and grad students match online.  It's how they find each other, like every transaction these days.  Quick and convenient.

But I'm showing her client that there are women like me who enjoy sex without charging for it.  The human contact, companionship, and attraction are payback enough.  I don't want cash from him.  I have enough of my own already.

More than the two of them combined will ever have, frankly.  Not bad for a failed music student.

Now I want to cut off the Drexel grad student from her work.  I want to "lay her off", like Advest did to me and Loredona in Connecticut in the '90s.

But without the severance.

> So, sweetie.  Any reason you're still here?  The Sunday sex already happened.  You're really not ..... needed .... here.

> Oh, is that so?  I'm still owed a Sunday dinner.  Sex .... or no sex.

> You're not owed .....  anything ... honey.  You need to earn it.  Like the rest of us.

> [She stands up.  She knows 'fighting words' when she hears them.]  You're not better than me, bitch.  I work as hard as you do.  And I'm hungry.  Hungry ambition-wise.  I still have my edge.  Do you still have yours?

> You already know the answer, I think.  But if you'd prefer, I'd be happy to show you.  And to show our gentleman host.

> [The Drexel student bends over and removes her boots.  If she was smart, she would have kept them on and used them as weapons in our battle.  But she wants a fair fight.  Fine.]  I think he'd like to see that.  And so would I.

> Just so we're clear:  this is to the finish.  No submissions, right?

> To the finish.  Let's do it.

I stand up.  The Drexel student and I stand nose to nose.  She has an in or two on me.

And about twenty years.

> Let's dance.

To be continued......

[sinclairfan]

Epilogue VIII

The Drexel grad students is holding her stare with me more defiantly and confidently than I was expecting.  Do sex workers need to regularly fight or their clients?  Well, .... not regularly, ..... is it something they need to be prepared to do?  To get challenged for a steadily paying client?  Is that how SHE got THIS client? .... through a catfight with another sex worker?

IS she a sex worker??  Are those still a thing?  In the 1990s, I know Washington Ave in the south end of Hartford had sting operations on hookers and johns.  But there's so much porn available these days .... does someone need a sex worker to get off?  I wish I had normal husbands and understood men.  My 2nd husband .... my current husband .... seems fine texting women.  Is he an aberration?  Do other men need the sex?  Or at least the touching?

I remember reading in the 1970s that men went out to Vegas to the brothels to get oral sex--that even adventurous house wives wouldn't go down on their man; or if they did, wouldn't swallow.  Does the Drexel grad student give great blow jobs?

Something about her month makes me think she does.  I step back a quarter-step and <slap> her mouth.

I love the sound.  The hurt, stunned look on her face.

I love that it's on.

She backhand slaps me, also in the mouth.  I would have grabbed her wrist if it was a forehand, but she outsmarted me.

She must have been in slapfights before.

This is going to be interesting.

To be continued....