1. Everyone Has A Past


    Date: 1/25/2015, Categories: Reluctance, Author: PervyStoryteller, Rating: 20, Source: LushStories

    It seemed a peculiarly old-fashioned way to go about things. These days you expect everything to be distributed digitally, hard copy a thing of the past, though the envelope was delivered in a modern enough way, by courier service, even if driving up in a big van early in the evening to deliver nothing more than an envelope seemed a bit ODD. The sender was unknown to me. I took the envelope with me into the kitchen, where I’d been enjoying a mug of tea when the doorbell rang. I sat back down and opened the thing, finding an only slightly smaller brown envelope inside. Ripping it open I tipped the contents onto the table, and it was when I saw the photographs that I realised an ill wind was about to blow. The faded colour suggested age; the hairstyles suggested mid-80’s. One woman featured in every photo, reddish blonde, permed and outrageously big hair, smiling in almost every picture. She looked very different now, but I had no trouble identifying her as my wife as she had been roughly 30 years earlier. I’d like to be able to say that it was possible to date the photos by the style of clothes, but in truth my wife was wearing very little. There was a sheet of folded paper in the envelope too. I unfolded it, fingers trembling slightly, to read the anonymous computer print-out. Everyone has a past. I don’t know how much you know about Tina’s past, but the photos speak for themselves. There’s plenty more where they came from. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to jeopardize your ...
    wife’s new career move, any more than she does. I’ll be in touch. That was all, but it was enough. The threat was as thinly veiled as Tina’s young body in the photos. I spread the pictures out on the kitchen table, until a large portion of it was covered by a total of 22 graphic sexual images; I counted them. The actual content of the pictures didn’t bother me. Does that sound strange? Well, like the note said, everyone has a past. My wife was 49, I was 54. We’d been married nine years. I had a messy divorce behind me, and three kids who my ex-wife refused to let me see, though she was happy enough to collect the child maintenance payments. By now the two eldest had reached the age of majority, and we were engaged in renewed bridge-building, but that’s a different story entirely. It stood to reason that a woman of 40 would have a past. That past, Tina had led me to believe, was extremely uneventful. Ever since her teens, she’d been determined to be a celebrated author. She’d taken a series of low paid, dead end jobs so that she could concentrate on her writing. Writing meant everything to her, and she’d never married. It’s often the way that we don’t get what we want until we’ve almost given up on it. When I met my wife, she was coming to terms with the idea that her dreams wouldn’t come true. Nevertheless, I encouraged her to keep writing, if only because it gave her pleasure, and suddenly the pieces fell into place. That’s why Tina wasn’t at home this particular evening; she was ...
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