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Excerpt for My Husband, Take Him With My Blessing, Please! by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

My Husband, Take Him

With My Blessing, Please!

By

Mario V. Farina



Copyright 2017 Mario V. Farina

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

All Rights Reserved



No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

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Storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.



Correspondence may be directed to:

Mario V. Farina

Email: mario@mariofarina.com



"I want you to be mine in this room," Tom murmured, breathing heavily. "Now!"

The words he said were totally unexpected. How had it come about they had been spoken? It had begun about a month before.

"May I sit here with you, Wilma," he asked? It was Tom Duncan. I was seated at a small table having lunch in the company's cafeteria. Tom was a computer analyst. I knew who he was, but we had not spoken a great deal.

"Yes of course," I replied. "I would like that very much."

Smiling, he placed his tray on the table and sat facing me. "I've seen you in the Accounting Office, and have wanted to know more about you for a long time," he said. "At last, I'll have my chance to do that."

"I'm flattered, Tom," I said. "I had no idea I could be so interesting to anyone here at Apex. Almost all employees keep their eyes on the screens and never even look around while at work."

"Well, I look around," he said. "Couldn't help noticing you. You're an attractive girl!" He took a bite of what seemed to be a tuna sandwich. Tom was nice-looking, tall, dark hair, good physical condition, thirty-five-ish. A little too old for me, I thought. (I was twenty-one.) Besides, he was wearing a wedding ring.

We chatted as we ate. He had been married about seven years, he said. His wife's name was Emma. They had a three-year-old child, a girl named Nina. I told him I was single, a recent college graduate, not particularly interested in marriage right away, but might be, if the right guy came along. When we finished eating, he told me he had been pleased to meet me. I returned the compliment.

We had lunch together the next day. And the next. Soon we were meeting this way regularly. The company allowed a full hour for the lunch break. Tom would pick up the tab every day despite my suggestions to go dutch. I enjoyed the attention he was giving me and, every day, looked forward to lunchtime.

After about a week of this routine, Tom said he thought I might like a change and proposed visiting La Bella Cuisine next door. I made a half-hearted attempt to object, indicating we might not have enough time for this.

"I'll talk turkey to the server," he said with a broad smile. I laughed at the cute remark, and agreed to accept the invitation. At the restaurant, he told the young woman who waited on us that he'd double the tip if we were served quickly. We each had a club sandwich, and were back at our cubicles before lunchtime had run out. Violating a stringent rule of the company, I daydreamed for a couple of minutes before turning on the computer. I had been intrigued by Tom's savoir faire in getting speedy service. He had also been very attentive to my desires during lunch. Up to this time, I had not thought of him as a boyfriend. Now, I was very close to doing so!

During the next three days, Tom and I resumed having lunch in the company's cafeteria. Going out for lunch had been too stressful for both of us, worrying about getting back to work on time. Then, he made a suggestion.

"Wilma," he said, "seeing you for only an hour a day, doesn't give me enough time to really get to know you. Why don't you and I both take half a day of vacation, have dinner at a nice restaurant, and spend the rest of the day together, just walking around, talking, and getting to know each other better?"

"I like the idea, Tom," I replied. "But, won't people get the wrong idea? We're friends. You're married! Others, or, at least, some others might think there's something deeper going on. Our being together shouldn't be misinterpreted by anyone."

"Yes, we are friends. But there is no reason why friends can't be good friends, even very good friends! If you agree with this, you can ask your supervisor for time off, and I'll ask mine. Our two vacation requests would seem like independent ones. There wouldn't be any risk that some folk might misunderstand anything!"

"OK," I said. "When shall we do this?"

"Emma will be visiting her parents in Baltimore on Tuesday next week. She'll be taking Nina. Why don't we make it Tuesday afternoon. If you like, you can show me where you live, and I can do the same. Since Emma won't be home, we will not be causing her any inconvenience."

I wasn't fully in agreement with some parts of his plans, but didn't express any concerns. I thought the dinner and the walking around, was fine, but visiting each other's homes might be stretching our relationship as friends a little. Actually, I found the thought exciting, but I didn't allow my mind to dwell on this.

We each asked our supervisors for permission to take the following Tuesday afternoon off, and permissions were given. Tom and I continued to see each other calmly during the intervening noontimes, but both of us were eagerly looking forward to the following Tuesday.

When it arrived, it seemed as if each hour on that day, was as long as a year. At last, it was lunchtime. I met Tom in the parking lot, and sat beside him in his Buick sedan. I had put on a more dressy outfit for the occasion. Tom was wearing a suit jacket, which was unusual for him. In a few minutes, we were in the downtown area of the city, and parked at the Orange Grove steakhouse. This was the most expensive restaurant in town.

We enjoyed the ambience, the service, and the food in this magnificent restaurant. I didn't see the check when it was delivered, and didn't know what the amount of the tip that Tom left on the table had been, but I do know, for sure, it had not been an inexpensive meal. Back in the car, Tom asked what I would like to do next, and I suggested that he decide the itinerary. He said he would do that.

It required about fifteen minutes of city driving to arrive at the destination that Tom had selected. It was a large, white ranch-style home on a quiet street at the outskirts of the city. There was an attached two-car garage. He pushed the button on the dash and the rightmost door of the structure rose. A light inside was lit at the same time that the door was opening. He drove in, stopped the car, and pushed the same button he had used before. The door slid smoothly downward closing the entrance to the garage.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he said with mock gallantry. "Mi casa es tu casa!"

Grasping my hand, he led the way to the nearby entry door, and opened it. I was momentarily surprised by the fact that it had not been locked. We had entered a magnificent, luxurious living room. There was a fireplace, pieces of furniture covered in velour, thick carpeting, and other extravagances too many to absorb in a quick glance. Closing the door behind him, he led the way to a loveseat and motioned me to sit. I did automatically. He sat beside me, a little too close in my comfort zone, I thought.

"Wilma, I have something to tell you," he said. "Emma and I have not been getting along well for about a year. Both of us have come to the conclusion that we should be divorced. She filed papers several months ago. We both have lawyers. Against their advice, Emma has allowed me to continue living in this house until the divorce is final. She has an apartment uptown." He paused for a few moments.

All of this was new to me. What he said was not material for pleasant listening. "Why are you telling me all this," I asked?

"I love you, darling! I want you to be in my life! There is so much I want to say to you. I don't know where to begin."

"Tom, you have to understand all this comes as a surprise," I exclaimed. "I was having difficulty absorbing what he had said so abruptly."

He stood, and reached for my hand, which I yielded to him. Helping me up, he spoke saying, "Let me take you around the house. I want to show you how your life can change if you join mine." Under his guidance we began walking from room to room.

His home was indeed elegant. There was much opulence in evidence. At a certain point, we walked into the bedroom. There was a king-sized bed, an elegant dresser, expensive furniture of various types.

"I want you to be mine in this room," he murmured, breathing heavily. "Now!"

"The words I spoke next were articulated involuntarily. It was not simply I who was speaking; it was my entire being. "This is Emma's room," I spoke severely! How do you dare make a suggestion like this so suddenly in our relationship? We need to leave! We need to leave this house, right now!" I began walking hastily out of the bedroom."

He followed me. "Wilma, Wilma, I'm so sorry! I was wrong! Please stop! I want to talk to you!"

I continued walking toward the entrance door through which we had come. "Take me away from this house," I said. "Take me to my home!"

He understood my adamant stand. We were back on the road within a few minutes. "Everything I have can be yours, Wilma," he cried out! "And, if you want diamonds, I'll give you diamonds; if you want furs, I'll give you furs, a new sports car!"

"Take me home," I kept insisting!

By the way he drove, it seemed, he already knew where I lived. He stopped the car in front of my apartment. I opened the door on my side of the car, exited, and ran to the entrance. I had my key ready, and was in my home within a few seconds. I locked the door, and sank into a sofa breathing hard. After several minutes, having regained my composure, I stood from the chair, walked warily to the front window and peeked out. He was gone. As I looked, an SUV drove up and stopped in front of my home. The driver inside glanced at a piece of paper in her hand, then opened the car door, exited and began walking toward my entrance. She was slim, blond, very pretty, about thirty, wearing a stunning red dress. I opened the front door before she had quite reached it. She was smiling.

"Wilma," she asked?

"Yes," I said. You must be Emma. I don't know how I knew this. I just did!

I led her to the chair near the picture window overlooking the pond. While she sat, I hastily obtained a container of pink lemonade from the refrigerator and poured two cups.

"I sat facing her. "How did you find out about Tom and me," I asked?

"My sister is his supervisor at Apex," she replied. "Tom never knew this! She has kept me fully informed of Tom's comings and goings."

We studied each other for a few seconds, then she said, "You're very beautiful. I can see why he became smitten by you!"

"You're beautiful, too," I responded! There was no reason for him to stray.

"Tom was born to stray," she said. "He's a devout liar. I don't know what he told you about me, but he was married once before. That marriage lasted seven and a half months."

"I didn't know that," I replied. "But then, we had not known each other very long. I didn't really learn much until today, when I suddenly found out more about him than I ever wanted to know!"

"You need to know a lot more than that before you go much further with him," she commented. "He's like a movie set built to represent a western town. It's all show and no substance. Did he tell you he owns the house that he took you to today?"

"Yes, he did," I said. "He also said he could buy me diamonds and furs and a sports car if I'd marry him!"

Emma laughed softly. "Tom is broke," she stated. "He owes money up to his ears all over town. He lives at the Y. The house you saw, was sold as part of our divorce settlement. His share of the money will go to pay debts. He has partial custody of a child from his previous marriage, and is paying child support and alimony. This is the future that you are getting yourself into!"

I was barely able to speak. "This comes as very shocking information," I said. "He has not been much of a husband to you."

"My husband? "Yes, he is, but for not for a lot longer. Our divorce becomes final in a couple of weeks. When he's free, you're welcome to take my husband. Take him with my blessing! Please!"

"Emma," I exclaimed, "we were never serious. It hadn't gotten to that point yet. He revealed himself as the person he truly is less than an hour ago. I don't ever want to see him again!"

"I'm glad to hear that, Wilma," she said. "Let's go to the Apex parking lot and pick up your car. By the way, I'm older than you are, so I hope I can pass on a piece of advice to you with impunity. You've heard that all that glitters is not gold. In your eyes, Tom may have glittered for a little while, but at the end, he will look no better than the movie set I just mentioned after it has been torn down!"








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