New Family

“New Family”

by c.w. cobblestone

 

Dawn Shaw married for love the first time around — a mistake she didn’t repeat when she chose me as her next husband.

I heard the story a million times: Dawn was barely out of high school when she eloped with a Guido named Luigi. He was a big-dicked, braggadocious, Sicilian sonofabitch who gave her two beautiful daughters and then ‘got da fuck outta dere.’

Luigi disappeared after the divorce, and Dawn never saw a penny of child support. After being abandoned with two mouths to feed like that, Dawn threw aside all romantic delusions and set out to find some poor, rich, naïve sucker she could take for a ride.

Hello. I’m Tim, Dawn’s second hubby — the poor, rich, naïve sucker who got taken for a ride.

I probably made for an easy conquest because I was bewitched from the moment I laid eyes on her. A coworker introduced us at a party and Dawn actually seemed interested. I was enamored but should’ve known better, finding out later that my friend had told her I was a partner in our law firm and earned high six figures. That made sense; otherwise, a beautiful blonde like Dawn Shaw wouldn’t have spent more than two minutes talking to a thin, soft-featured, 5’5 guy like me.

But talk, she did. We chatted for nearly an hour, although I had a hard time hearing her as I did a breast stroke in the ocean of her blue eyes to the strains of Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers.”

Through the lavender fog, I was able to decipher enough words to glean that she was a barmaid who had two daughters from a previous marriage. She told me she lived with her kids in a small apartment on the south side of town. It was a bad neighborhood, which made me sad, and right then and there, I promised myself I’d give this woman a better life, if only she would let me. The fact that I’d only just met her never entered my mind. Like I said, I was smitten from the start.

I eventually conjured up the nerve to ask Dawn if she wanted to have dinner some time. When she said yes, I peed a little in my pants. We exchanged numbers and I floated home on a fluffy cloud that smelled like her perfume.

Once I was safely in my condo I made a beeline to my bedroom bottom drawer, the hiding place for my frillies. I slipped on a pair of stockings and masturbated, fantasizing about being Dawn’s sissy maid. It took only nine strokes to finish.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face and cum on my belly.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Dawn and I went on our dinner date that Friday night, followed by a couple Platonic meal-and-movie outings. I even got to kiss her once; not a French kiss, but I pecked her on the lips for a quick second before she turned away.

After a few dates I figured I’d better let Dawn in on my secret: I was impotent. And still a virgin.

I couldn’t work up the nerve, though, to reveal THE secret — that I fantasized about being a feminized slave and enjoyed wearing girly things, something I’d done since sneaking into my older sister’s hamper as a preteen.

I fully expected Dawn to dump me after I revealed my ED problem, since that’s exactly what had happened with the other two women I’d tried to date.

Dawn was different. She understood.

She acted like she did, anyway.

“It’s okay,” she cooed. “We can find other ways to make each other feel good.”

I felt reborn, finally worthy of love from a beautiful woman, after so many years of feeling nothing but shame.

And so, like a lovesick dork, I walked into her trap with a stupid smile on my face.

 

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As time passed and I fell deeper in love with Dawn, her dominant nature began to surface. I found it to be a double-edged sword; it turned me on while also hurting my feelings.

She kept pushing the envelope and things got progressively worse — or better, depending on my mood. Her bitchiness made me horny as hell, and I’d go home, don my hose and lacy underthings, and jack off. Then, once my wad was shot, I only felt sad as I reflected on how badly she was treating me.

One Sunday afternoon, about a month into our relationship, I took her to a carnival and it was an absolute nightmare. The outing was a huge turning point, because it showed us both how far she could humiliate me with impunity.

The date had started out wonderfully. I felt like a hero after winning three large stuffed animals at the balloon dart booth. Of course, I gifted them to my angel, but she had me carry them, and I lugged the cute lil’ critters around with the biggest grin on earth.

As we approached the funhouse, a tall, muscular, good-looking dude walked up and put his hand on Dawn’s shoulder.

“Dawn? Dawn Shaw?” The big guy looked in my date’s eyes.

Her face lit up. “Chuck! Oh, my Gawd!! Chuck Williams! Jeez, you look exactly the same!”

They embraced for a long time while I stood there holding Dawn’s stuffed giraffe, elephant and frog, feeling like a complete roach.

Finally, this Chuck Williams guy broke the hug and took a step back, giving Dawn the once-over.

“And you, my dear, look even lovelier than you did in high school,” he said.

“Why, thank you.” Dawn blushed. “You always were a charmer.”

I cleared my throat. Dawn noticed.

“Oh, Chuck, this is my ... friend, Tim. Tim, this is Chuck, an old friend from school.”

He smacked his lips at me and nodded. “Howyadoin’?”

“Hello,” I croaked.

Chuck sneered. “Are you and Dawn, like, boyfriend-girlfriend?”

Dawn giggled and tapped his arm.  “Chuck! Stop teasing poor little Timmy!”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, poor little Timmy,” he said, sounding like he didn’t mean a word.

I again cleared my throat. “Ummm ... it’s okay ... uh, Dawn ... are you ready to check out the funhouse now?”

She immediately turned to her old friend. “Wanna come? I love the funhouse!”

My ears turned red when he answered, “sure, baby — are you still into fun like you used to be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied.

With gritted teeth, I headed to the ticket booth to purchase tickets. Dawn called after me, “hey, Tim, pay for Chuck’s ticket, too, then meet us at the entrance.”

I couldn’t believe she was actually asking me to pay for his fucking ticket. But she sure as hell fucking was.

And I sure as hell fucking did it.

I felt two inches tall as I approached the funhouse. They were standing awfully close to each other and most men would’ve been ready to fight — especially when Chuck snatched his ticket and said, “thanks, little Timmy.”

But I kept my mouth shut, tagging along like a pesky kid brother as they walked together into the funhouse. At one point, Chuck led Dawn to the wall of distortion mirrors and stood behind her with his hands on her hips, gently rocking her from side to side. They cracked up at the way their movements twisted the image.

When their laughter subsided, Chuck bent his head down and whispered something in Dawn’s ear. She smiled and nodded.

I stood quietly behind them still holding the stuffed animals, staring at my shoes.

They finally moved away from the mirror and I followed them through the funhouse and waited while they giggled over each pratfall and gag. The funhouse hadn’t been fun for me — but the worst was yet to come.

After we walked back onto the main carnival drag, Dawn cocked her head and stared down at me, which always made me self-conscious since I was an inch-and-a-half shorter than her.

“Listen, Tim, I haven’t seen Chuck in a long, long time, so I was thinking maybe we could call it a day? He’s gonna give me a ride home.”

“Y-you mean end our date already?” I whined, causing the asshole Chuck to snort.

“I know, it’s awful sudden. But it’s just that Chuck is a really good friend, and we have so much to ... um, catch up on. Come on, Tim ... I know it’s a lot to ask, but I really would appreciate it.”

“Well ... uh ... okay, Dawn. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Sure, you can call me. And, thanks again, Timmy. You’re my little doll.”

Chuck sneered at me. “Yeah, thanks, Timmy! You’re a little doll.”

Dawn giggled and punched him in the arm again. “I told you — stop being meeeeean!”

With that, they walked off into the carnival crowd, and I made my way back to the car with my arms full of Dawn’s stuffed animals.

Like a madman, I broke all speed limits driving home before rushing to my drawer. I pulled on my camisole and hose, and masturbated furiously, imagining myself as a sissy maid slave to my Mistress Dawn and her live-in lover Chuck Williams.

I ejaculated so hard the cum slapped me on the cheek.

Then I cried myself to sleep hugging the stuffed frog.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Yes, Dawn came with a lot of baggage. Her daughters, for instance.

Jessica was nine years old and Tammy was eight when I came into the picture. At first, I wondered how Dawn’s ex could have abandoned such beautiful, precious little angels. It didn’t take long to figure that one out. Angels, my ass.

Dawn waited until we’d been dating a few months before introducing me to her children. During one of our outings, she complained that her refrigerator leaked, so I offered to buy her a new one. She didn’t exactly thank me, but the next day she invited me to meet her daughters.

“They’re delivering the new fridge Saturday and they won’t take the old one, so you’ll need to empty it out and move it,” was the way she put it. “You might as well meet my kids, too, while you’re over here.”

For the next several days leading up to that Saturday, I was ultra-excited to meet Dawn’s children. But Jessica and Tammy hardly looked away from the television set when Dawn finally introduced us; they both glowered at me like I was an insect before turning their attention back to the show they’d been watching.

Dawn sent me to the kitchen to empty the food from the fridge before calling the crew I’d hired to move it, while she and her daughters relaxed in the living room. As I worked, I could hear them talking.

“Yuck. I don’t like him,” Tammy said. “He looks like a skinny little squirrel!”

They all giggled.

Her sister chimed in: “He looks like a girl-squirrel. A skinny, ugly, little girl-squirrel. How come this guy’s your new boyfriend, Mom? Don’t you like tall, handsome men?”

“Now, girls, don’t be mean,” Dawn said. “Of course, I like tall, handsome men. And Tim isn’t really my boyfriend. Well, kind of. It’s hard to explain; he’s more like a friend who is going to do nice things for us. He just bought us a nice, new fridge, which will be here later on today. And he’s going to buy a lot of other nice stuff for us. And, eventually, we’re going to move into a big house that he’s going to pay for. And Mommy won’t have to work anymore.”

“Well, I don’t care — he still looks like a skinny, ugly little girl-squirrel,” Jessica said.

“I know, honey,” Dawn said. “Maybe we can make him wear a bag on his head or something.”

They all laughed again, and my face turned purple as I continued emptying the refrigerator shelves.

 

I should have been outraged. I should’ve stormed the hell right out of there.

Instead, I kept thinking about what Dawn had just told her daughters about how I’d be buying them a house.

I wondered: Did that mean she wanted to get married?

 

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The answer was yes.

There never really was a proposal. Dawn just mentioned marriage one day out of the blue when we were sitting in her living room after a date.

“When we get married, I don’t want to work anymore,” she said.

I blinked. “Do … do you mean it? You really want to get … married?”

“Yeah, Tim, now don’t start slobbering all over me. We can talk about it later; go get me a glass of wine.”

Just like that, we were engaged.

That’s when the love of my life really started taking advantage of me.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

True to her word, Dawn quit her job and insisted I pay all her bills until we could move into the house she’d be picking out. I was only too happy to comply.

I ran myself ragged trying to please my new fiancé, but no matter what I did for her she always seemed to be in a pissy mood with me. Her daughters picked up on that, and it wasn’t long before they were treating me the same way.

One day, Dawn called to remind me to pick up her dry cleaning after work and deliver it to her apartment. I stopped at the cleaner’s and decided to surprise Dawn and the girls with a pizza, making a pit-stop at Super Mario’s Pizzeria.

As soon as I walked in the door, Dawn curled up her nose in disgust. “Damn it, Tim, I hate Super Mario’s! What’s wrong with you? Their pizza tastes like shit — pull your head out of your ass, Tim!!!”

Jessica and Tammy giggled.

“How can he drive a car with his head up his butt?” the older sister chortled.

I swallowed my indignation. How could Dawn talk to me that way after I’d gone out of my way to surprise her and her daughters?

For a brief second, I entertained the notion of putting my foot down, and telling my fiancé she was being totally unfair.

Yes, for a brief second, I considered it. Then I wimped out as usual.

“I’m s-s-sorry, Dawn. I didn’t know you hated Super Marios’ pizza. I won’t go there again.”

“Well, I told you before I can’t stand their crust,” Dawn carped. “It tastes like sawdust.”

“Yeah!” the girls said in unison.

“I’m sorry, Dawn. I really am.”

“Whatever, Tim. What are we supposed to do about dinner now? I’m hungry and I’m not eating that nasty pizza.”

“I want McDonalds!” Jessica hollered.

“Me, too!” her little sister seconded.

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, Tim, why don’t you run out to McDonald’s and get dinner?”

“Sounds good, guys, McDonald’s it is,” I said, trying to sound like one of the family. Nobody bothered to answer; they just started barking out their orders.

So, I hopped in my car and drove to the nearest Mickey Dee’s. While waiting in the drive-through line, I ate a few slices of the pizza I’d bought. I figured what the hell; nobody else wanted it.

 

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Our wedding was a joke. It was an unromantic civil service, with no audience other than a blasé justice of the peace and a court clerk I paid $100 to serve as a witness. I didn’t have any family left after my sister had died three years earlier. And nobody from Dawn’s side showed up, including her daughters, who were sent to their grandmother’s house across town for the ceremony, such as it was. We just went into city hall, did the deed and that was that.

Dawn said up front she didn’t want a big wedding: “I did that song and dance already with Louie,” she told me. “Getting married to you isn’t really romantic to me; it’s more like a formality. Something we have to do.”

Most men would have considered that a supreme insult. But I was so hooked by this time, I simply nodded and smiled.

Nodding, smiling, and swallowing demeaning comments was a skill I’d learn to cultivate in the years to come.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Immediately after our “wedding,” the new family moved into a spacious lakefront home which my wife had picked out with absolutely no input from me, even though I’d paid for it. Once we were settled in, I quickly fell into my new roles: rich, doting pussywhipped husband to Dawn, and weak adult male figure to the girls.

Jessica and Tammy figured out early on that I had no authority over them whatsoever. They knew they could do or say nearly anything to me with impunity, secure in the knowledge that their mom would always take their side against mine.

There was one incident shortly after the “wedding” that really stands out, a night when my spot on the bottom rung of the household pecking order was hammered home to everyone:

We were eating dinner — pork chops, peas and mashed potatoes which I’d hurriedly prepared after getting home from the firm. Although Dawn didn’t work and didn’t lift a finger around the house, I was still expected to start cooking as soon as I got home. Then, after dinner, the girls would relax while I did the dishes and cleaned up whatever messes they’d made during the day.

Tammy and Jess were in a mischievous mood, flinging bits of food at each other when their mom wasn’t looking. After the fourth or fifth volley of peas, I finally spoke up.

“Listen, you two need to stop that,” I said. “Don’t throw food.”

Dawn immediately cut me off with a stream of pure venom: “Oh, no you don’t! You listen to me — you wimpy little pansy. Don’t you EVER talk to my kids in that tone of voice. Ever!! You hear me?”

I winced. She had always taken her daughters’ side up until then, but in this case, I thought I was well within reason to scold the little brats for throwing food at the table. Apparently not.

“You are not their father, and you will not speak to them as if you were their father. Do you understand me?” She glared at me. I couldn’t make eye contact.

“Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, Dawn. I understand,” I mumbled, my eyes glued to the carpet.

“Now, apologize to my daughters.”

“Yeah, Tim, ‘polgize!” Jessica chimed in, folding her arms just like her mother.

I cleared my throat and swallowed.

“Um ... I’m very sorry, Tammy, Jessica. I really am.”

Tammy’s response was to take a spoonful of mashed potatoes and fling it at me; it hit me on the nose and they all cracked up. I managed a weak, defeated smile as I wiped my face with a napkin.

After the laughter died down, my wife sighed loudly and said, “okay, we’ve had our fun. Now, Tim, how about a refill over here — and, since you’re going in the kitchen, I’m about ready a piece of that apple pie you made.”

“Me, too!” the girls chimed in.

I rose from the dinner table to obey. As I was reaching for my wife’s empty glass, Tammy giggled and threw yet another scoop of potatoes in my direction. This time, the clump landed on the leg of Dawn’s chair. And this time, Mommy was not amused.

“Okay, Tammy, dammit, that’s enough! It was funny for a minute, now stop! You almost hit me!”

Tammy averted her eyes and picked at her potatoes. “Sorry,” she mumbled. A few words from Mommy were more than enough. Mommy’s word was law in our household.

“Tim, go get something and clean this mess off my chair,” my wife ordered. “And hurry up.”

“Yeah, hurry, up Tim ... I want some apple piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!” Jessica whined. “Vanilla ice cream on mine!”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Dawn and I never attempted sexual intercourse. I was impotent, and back when she and I were first married there were no pharmaceutical cures for my problem. Not that it would have mattered, anyway — my wife told me in no uncertain terms one night: “I like tall, strong men with muscles; guys like my ex-husband. You’ve got little girly arms and shoulders. And bitch-tits. And you’re way shorter than me. Sorry, that’s a major turnoff.”

I apologized for all my shortcomings. She nodded and ordered me to rub her feet.

It was an unspoken given from the very beginning of our marriage that Dawn was going to fuck whomever she wanted, and over the years she had her share of flings. I was sure she’d had sex with that Chuck asshole at the carnival, although I’d never worked up the nerve to ever ask her about it. Throughout our marriage there were several more guys who came and went. Even though her dalliances hurt to the core, I understood her need for sex. And whether I liked it or not, I had two choices: I could put up with it or leave. I chose to put up with it.

Although I merely suspected the infidelity at first, I learned for sure a few months after the marriage ceremony when she was lying in bed talking to a friend on the phone. She apparently was unaware that I was next door in the master bathroom about to scrub the toilet — or else she didn’t care. I stood there with the brush in my hand listening to her side of the conversation:

“Man, Johnny wore me out last night. Well, yeah, it looked like Randy was giving you some pretty good dick on your bed, too. I know, girl, we did it again twice after you guys left. No, we just crashed at the motel. I got home about an hour ago. What did Timmy say? What do you think the little wimp said? Shit, girlfriend, I do what I want. I stay out all night a lot. He don’t say shit about it.”

There was a pause and a chuckle. “Yeah, he’s nice to have around to clean and shit. It’s like having a little maid. And, believe me, I’m happy to spend the idiot’s money — but he knows not to say anything about who I go out with, or how long I stay gone, or else I’ll divorce his little candy-ass.”

I squeezed the scrub brush listening to my wife cut me into a million pieces, while watching my tears fall into the toilet water. Then, with a sigh, I started my cleaning without worrying how much noise I made. That was my little act of rebellion: I didn’t try to be quiet as I tidied the bathroom, not caring whether she knew I’d just overheard her conversation.

When I was done, I scooted past my wife, who was still lolling around in bed gabbing on the phone. She never even looked my way.

All I could think of for the rest of the day was how she’d referred to me as a maid. You can bet I jacked off to that the next time I got the chance.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

We developed a ritual. Whenever Dawn went out, as soon as the kids were in bed, I’d sneak into the back of my sock drawer, don my frillies, and bop the baloney thinking of all the mean things my wife had said and done to me that day, and who she might be fucking.

After beating my meat I’d curl up and sob.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Dawn finally owned up to her infidelities because she wanted to go to Hawaii with one of her boyfriends and needed me to foot the bill.

“Listen, Tim, you know I see other people, right?” she asked me one night.

I gulped. “Um, I …”

“Oh, come on, Tim. You can’t be that goddamn stupid.”

“No, I … yes, Dawn, I figured you were … that you’d need to … to …”

“To get fucked? Is that what you’re trying to say, Tim? Well, you’re right. I do need to get fucked. I’m a woman and I enjoy sex. My husband can’t have sex. What do you think I should do?”

“Oh, no, please, Dawn, I’m not complaining. I understand. I really do. I’m sorry I can’t … I can’t provide you with what you need. This is all my fault, and I want you to be happy, and get everything you want. I really, really want to be supportive.”

She beamed. “See? Thank you, Tim. I love how supportive you are. Now, Conner wants to take me to Hawaii, but that lazy bastard doesn’t ever have any damn money. His birthday is coming up; I’d love it if you booked us a nice cruise.”

I swallowed and put on a fake smile. “S-sure, Dawn. I’ll check online and get something real nice for you guys.”

“There’s my little doll. I can’t wait to tell him. Would you like to rub my feet while I call him?”

“Of course, Dawn, thank you.”

With a vixen smirk, she dialed her phone. After a pause, her face lit up.

“Hey, baby.” She smiled down at me. “Yeah, he’s gonna book it for us.”

Something her boyfriend said made her giggle. “Oh, don’t be such an asshole, Conner. Timmy’s a sweetie. That’s why I married him, and not you. You’re only good for a fuck; my hubby worships the ground I walk on.”

She blew me a kiss and I melted.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

According to my wife, the romantic Hawaiian adventure with her studly lover was blissful.

She dumped the dickhead two weeks later.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

The affairs never lasted long. Dawn had always been sexually attracted to guys like her ex-husband: loud, boisterous types who were great in bed but unbearable anywhere else. She met most of her lovers at her gym. Eventually, these macho men would always want to possess her — but she was way too feisty for that. So, the relationships usually faded fairly quickly. And she never brought her lovers home to meet me or the kids, thank goodness.

That was all fine with me because I didn’t want my wife developing long-term relationships with these palookas, and I sure as hell didn’t want to deal with them face to face — even though that was indeed my biggest, most secret sexual fantasy. The reality was confusing enough, and it tore at my insides. I loved and hated how Dawn flaunted her affairs right under my nose. I thrilled at having to wash cum-stained panties (and, sometimes, cum-stained dresses or blouses), and then it disgusted me and made me cry. Then, I’d get excited about it again.

I also had to deal with the sniggers and snide innuendos from her bratty daughters, who knew full well by the time they were in their teens that their mother was fucking around on me. It wasn’t something Dawn talked about with them when they were younger, but she didn’t try to hide her affairs, either. Eventually, it became an open matter in our household that Mom stepped out. When the girls were old enough, Dawn explained my impotency to them, and how a woman, “has needs.”

I would wait submissively at home whenever my wife went on a date, doing my chores while the girls lounged around and watched TV. After they went to bed, I’d get my jollies by sneaking to my room, dressing in my girlies, and jacking off thinking about what my wife was doing.

It seemed to be a workable arrangement for everyone. When Dawn got back from her trysts, she always had a nice, clean house to come home to, and a devoted hubby ready to obey her slightest whim. I bent over backwards to give my wife a reason to keep coming home, and tried to always be her “good little doll.”

Being a cuckolded, disrespected husband, stepfather, family lapdog and ATM wasn’t easy, even though being a downtrodden sissy cuck had always been my deepest sexual craving. The reality proved much more painful than the fantasy, especially after the spooge had been spilt. And there was nothing sexually exciting about how Tammy and Jessica treated me; it was infuriating and embarrassing, but it was just part of the hodgepodge of shit I had to deal with if I wanted to stay married to my beloved Dawn.

I recall one particular Friday night when nothing major happened, although the evening’s events were typical of my pitiful existence.

I’d had a really crazy day at work: I’d lost a huge client, and everyone at the firm reamed me out about it. I was so happy when it was time to go home — but to top off my shitty day, there was a massive traffic jam on the freeway. I was over an hour late getting home, and I had a pounding headache as I pulled into the driveway.

The second I walked through the door, Dawn started bitching at me.

“What the hell took you so long, Tim? I had to iron my own dress. Now I’m going to be late.”

She was primping in the foyer mirror, all dressed up to go ... somewhere. Jessica and Tammy were lounging on the couch, watching TV.

“I’m sorry, there was a huge traffic jam,” I said. “Um, where are you going?”

 

“I’m going on a date with a guy I met at the gym, if you must know.”

Jess giggled. “That’s what happens when you ask a stupid question, Tim.”

My wife picked up her purse. “Tim needs to worry about getting my outfits ready instead of being a nosy little worm.”

I bit my lip and said nothing. Finally, Dawn broke the awkward silence.

“Listen, I’m leaving. Don’t stay up too late, girls. And Tim, I don’t know if I’ll be back tonight or not, so start dinner for Jessie and Tammy, then iron the red-and-blue sundress and the blue skirt with the pleats. Go ahead and do my black skirt and the white Rebecca Taylor blouse, too. And you’ll need to polish my flats, and maybe the blue pumps. You know what? Go ahead and do all my shoes tonight, Timmy; I’ll figure out which ones to wear tomorrow.”

Although my heart was in my own shoes, I managed yet another fake smile. “Okay, Dawn. Good bye.”

She ignored me but said, “Bye, girls.”

“Bye, Mom, have fun,” Jessica said as her mother breezed out the front door.

A few seconds after Dawn left, Tammy blinked at me.

“Tim, go make popcorn.”

I was only too happy to escape to the kitchen.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

There were so many nights like that. After the kids would go to bed, I’d slip into my bedroom, open my sock drawer, diddle my ding-a-ling, and think about my bitchy wife. She was Mistress Dawn in fantasy; in real life, a conniving cunt. There wasn’t much difference, except when she was Mistress Dawn in my erotic dreams, I wore a sissy maid outfit while she treated me like shit.

 

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Although my life was an odyssey of one embarrassment after another, I’d pretty much gotten used to the routine after a dozen years. The girls stayed at home after turning 18, since there was no pressure by their mother to get jobs; she wanted them to enjoy the kind of leisurely lives she’d been denied before I came into the picture. And, since I wanted nothing more than to please my wife, I was happy to continue supporting everyone, and cleaning up after them when I got home from work.

I derived my self-respect from the fact that I was able to provide my wife and her daughters with the things they wanted. That gave me a measure of worth, even if my family took me for granted and were constantly rude to me.

After so many years, I’d found peace with my humble existence.

Then the letter came. And everything turned to shit.

I happened to be mowing the lawn when the postman walked up and handed me several pieces of mail. I sifted through the usual assortment of bills and junk letters before spying the handwritten envelope. When I noticed the return address, my face went numb:

 

Luigi DiLorio, #44321

Lakefront Correctional Facility

Collinsville, KS

 

A letter from my wife’s ex-husband?!! And, he was apparently in prison?!

I stood there on the front sidewalk, shoulders slumped, letter in hand. My insides felt rotten.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I agonized over the letter all day, wondering why my wife’s ex had reached out to her after so many years, and why he was in prison. My questions had to wait, though — I didn’t dare broach the subject with Dawn, since I knew that would likely earn me a rebuke for being nosy, if not worse, and she didn’t mention it until dinner.

After I served up my special Italian sausage casserole and took my seat at the foot of the table, my wife addressed her daughters with pursed lips.

“Girls, your dad contacted me — your real father.”

“What?” Jessica dropped her fork, and it clanged on the plate.

Tammy scrunched up her face. “I thought you said he didn’t want anything to do with us, Ma.”

“Well, he says he’s changed.” Dawn snapped her fingers at me. “Tim, go get my purse.”

I hopped up and retrieved the Coach bag. Without thanking me, my wife reached inside and produced the envelope that contained her ex’s letter.

“He’s in prison,” Dawn explained as she unfolded the sheets of paper and began reading aloud:

Dear Dawn:

I don’t even know how to start. So I guess I’ll just get it off my chest. I feel so bad about what I did. Terrible is a better word, although there really are no words to explain how I feel. I was a kid and having 2 kids was just too much for me to handle. As you know I had a screwed up childhood and had to raise myself from when I was 12 years old after my parents were killed. So I don’t know what it means to be a dad since I didn’t have one myself or a mom either and I just got scared when Jess and Tammy came along and like a coward I ran away. Yes I was a big coward by running from all my problems. But never did a day go by when I didn’t think of the girls or you. I never stopped loving you, Dawn, and you have to admit what we had was special. I bet our daughters grew up to be just as beautiful as you are.

I saw Joey in the visiting room when he came up here to see Rocco, and he said you got married again. He reminded me how mad my uncle was after we broke up, because he always loved you. Joey gave me your new address and said I should write to you after I told him I didn’t think you wanted to hear from me anymore. He said go ahead and write and see what happens so here it is.

I still have 3 months left on my sentence. They caught me stealing a car and I got 5 years because it was my 3^rd offense. I know I was stupid all my life but after sitting in here all this time, I only had time to do 2 things, work out and think about how dumb I was and all the people that I hurt. Mostly you and the girls. Joey finally gave me the courage to write you because I was sure you hate me and don’t want to hear a word from me. I hope I am wrong.

I want to see you again so bad and somehow be a father to them, even though they’re already 19 and 20 now. Wow so much time has passed I can’t even believe it. But you never know how much time you have left on this earth and now I just want to make everything right. I know you have a husband now and this is my fault for not holding on to you. But at least I want to have a relationship with my daughters when I get out if they would want that. I please ask you to tell them only one thing, that their dad is a not perfect human being who had a rough childhood and he made a lot of mistakes but he never stopped loving them and he begs them for forgiveness.

My address is put on the envelope and it is at the bottom of this letter too. So if you write back, and I pray that you do, you have to put that prison number next to my name so the letter will get to me. I don’t know if you or the girls will want to write or not but I will be waiting holding all my breath and praying every day before mail call that there will be a letter in there with my name on it. I love you and will never stop loving you and please tell the girls that I love them too and I am so sorry for what I did and not being a father for them.

Love,

Your ‘ferocious tiger bear’ (ha ha remember that?) and to the girls, they can call me dad forever.

My wife refolded the letter as I studied the casserole on my plate, squirming amid an unsettling silence. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but couldn’t get my esophagus to work. When I peeked up from my dinner, I saw that all the girls had tears in their eyes.

Dawn tucked the letter into her purse and handed it to me. “Here, Tim, take this — and why don’t you go to the living room and eat? I need to talk to Jess and Tammy alone.”

I nodded and pulled the purse strap over my shoulder before picking up my plate and shuffling away. By the time I got to the living room, there were tears in my eyes, too.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

The evening news was almost over when my wife finally called for me. I scurried back to the dining room after sitting alone for more than an hour, thinking I was going to be consulted about the major family development that had rocked everyone’s world.

Instead, Dawn told me to serve dessert.

After I’d doled out generous helpings of chocolate mousse, my wife blinked at me. “Why don’t you go find something to do for a while, Tim? We’re not done talking.”

Before I could reply, Jessica pointed toward the front door. “You know, Tim, if you need something to do, the Jeep’s a mess. My friends are slobs; I took ‘em to the movies yesterday and they got stuff everywhere. Hayley spilled Doritos, and they’re all crunched up in the carpet.”

I nodded. “Um, okay, Jess, I’ll go ahead and knock that out right now.”

My stepdaughter didn’t reply, having already turned toward her sister and mother. They huddled in a semicircle around the dining room table, closing me out with their body language.

With chin on chest, I shuffled from the dining room.

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

I was on my knees at the foot of the bed giving Dawn her nightly foot massage when she finally brought up the letter.

“You need to make sure the Lexis is gassed up,” she instructed. “I’m taking the girls up to Collinsville to see their father.”

“Um, okay.” I blinked away tears and tried to make conversation. “D-don’t you need to check with the prison first, before driving up there like that? You have to get on a visiting list. That’s a long way to drive.”

Dawn lifted her foot from my hands and kicked me lightly on the forehead. “Duh, you don’t think we thought of that, stupid? Jess put in the request already; the website said it takes up to three business days for us to be put on the visiting list if the inmate approves it — and from the sounds of the letter, I assume Louie’s gonna approve the request. So, that’ll be Thursday, if he gets the request tomorrow and everything goes through okay.”

“Oh.” I continued rubbing my wife’s feet, cocooned in a familiar blanket of shame. Although my eyes were closed, I could feel Dawn staring down at me.

Her voice made me flinch: “Are you scared, Tim?”

I opened my eyes and saw her smirking at me. “Are you?” she asked again. “Scared?”

“Um, scared? W-why would I be scared?”

“Don’t play dumb, Tim. You know I never stopped loving him, right?”

I huffed. “Yeah, you’ve only said that a million times since we got married.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. Keep rubbing my feet,” my wife shot back with a bratty curl to her lip. “Listen, Tim, I’m gonna tell you right now — when Louie gets out, we’re most likely gonna sleep together. In fact, I can just about guarantee it. Understand?”

My shoulders slumped as I resumed kneading Dawn’s arches. “I … I understand. As long as … p-please, d-don’t …” My voice caught in my throat.

Dawn scoffed. “Don’t worry, Tim — I’m not gonna divorce you.”

My face lit up until she added: “Who else would pay the bills and be my little bitch?”

“Aw, come on, D-dawn … why …?” I drew a breath. “Why do you have to say mean things like that?”

“Oh, stop being such a baby. I’m just messing with you.”

I put on a smile. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” Her eyes got cold. “But I wasn’t joking about sleeping with him, Tim. That’s going to happen.”

I don’t know what came over me, but in an effort to ingratiate myself to my bitchy wife, I blurted out, “I understand, honey, all I want is for you to be happy. I swear, that’s all I want. Whatever you want, I want. Because I love you, Dawn.”

She giggled. “You’re such a loyal little wus.” Lifting her foot from my hands again, she tweaked my nose with her big toe. “That’s good for that one. Go get me another glass of wine before you get started on the other foot.”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

During family supper the night after we’d received the life-changing post, the only topics of conversation at the dining room table were the two L’s — Louie and the letter.

“Ooh, Dad’s still got the major hots for you, Ma,” Tammy teased for the umpteenth time as I ambled in from the kitchen carrying the platter of the food I’d prepared. 

Jess smirked at me as I set a pork chop on her plate. “Uh-oh, Tim, you better watch out — the big, mean, ferocious tiger bear is gonna steal Ma away from you.”

“Yeah, Tim, you’ve seen the pictures — he’s a real hunk” Tammy added, referring to the snapshots Dawn kept of her ex-husband in our family photo album, which had always been a source of embarrassment for me.

Scooping a helping of mashed potatoes onto my oldest stepdaughter’s dish, I managed a shrug. “Come on, guys, your mom and me talked about this. Everything will be fine.”

“It BETTER be fine, or my dad will kick yo’ butt.” Tammy giggled. “Dad was already big when they were married — and he said in the letter all he’s done is work out. I bet he’s JACKED.”

Dawn waved her hand and scoffed. “Oh, Louie would wipe the floor up with Tim, but that’s not gonna be a problem,” she said. “I’ve had boyfriends before; you guys know that. Tim understands.”

I wanted to curl up and die as the girls leered at me.

“Yeah, Ma, you told us,” Tammy said. “A woman has needs. And Tim can’t do the do.”

“But this is different,” Jessie said. “What’s gonna happen when Dad gets out? You told us he was The One — that one special guy who comes along only once in a lifetime.”

I’d known that for years — hell, Dawn had brazenly told me a thousand times — but it was devastating to hear it from my stepdaughter that way.

Oblivious to my anguish, my wife shrugged. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” She cut a piece of pork chop and nibbled it before making a face. “Tim, why is there no salt on this?”

“Um, I did put salt on it, honey.”

“Well obviously not enough,” she replied, pointing her fork at the salt-shaker.

Tammy was sitting right there, but I hopped up and obeyed my wife’s unspoken command.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

The clasp on Tammy’s suitcase wouldn’t close, so I wiggled it a bit. I was able to jar loose whatever microscopic fleck was preventing it from working properly, and I felt a tiny measure of pride at my accomplishment as I snapped the clasp shut.

I sure as hell needed some reason to feel good about myself.

My wife and stepdaughters were leaving for an overnight trip to Collinsville, nearly 300 miles away. Louie had approved the request for his ex-wife and daughters to be added to his visiting list by Thursday as Dawn had hoped, so as soon as I got home from work that evening, she ordered me to start packing.

“We’re driving up there tonight and staying in a hotel, and then we’ll visit him tomorrow.” she said. “We may end up staying in a hotel tomorrow night, too, if we don’t feel like driving all the way back, so remind the girls to have you pack enough for two nights.”

I bit back tears and obeyed my beloved wife, who had the clothes she wanted packed already laid out on the bed. After filling her small bag and setting it in the hallway, I headed to Jessica’s room, where she stood before the dresser mirror brushing her hair. I knocked and she gestured toward her bed; multiple outfits were strewn across the comforter.

“You’ll probably need to get the big suitcase,” she said.

I chuckled. “Um, do you think you really need all this, Jessie? You guys are only going to be gone for—”

“I SAID GET THE BIG SUITCASE!” My stepdaughter glared at me through the mirror. “Why do you always have to run your mouth, Tim? Damn! If I tell you I want the big suitcase, that means I want the big suitcase. Okay?”

 

I slinked away mumbling apologies and fetched the big suitcase.

After Jessica’s stuff was packed, I reported to Tammy, who also had a mountain of clothes on the bed. As I folded her blouse, I explained, “I don’t know if all this is going to fit in the smaller suitcase; your sister is using the big one.”

“Then put whatever doesn’t fit in a bag,” she said without looking up from her phone. “It’s not that deep, Tim.”

With red ears, I nodded and carried out the little princess’s command.

After the suitcases were packed in my wife’s Lexus SUV, I followed behind the three ladies in my life as they filed out the front door.

“I made sure all the fluids were full, and the tire pressure is good, too,” I offered as everyone got into the vehicle. “Be careful driving; I love you guys.”

No one answered me. The three doors slammed and Dawn fired up the engine. As I waved at my family with my fake smile, Dawn smirked behind the windshield and said something to her daughters. Jessie and Tammy both giggled and waved back at me.

Dawn slipped on her sunglasses and backed the SUV onto the street, leaving me standing there in the driveway — waving, smiling and crying at the same time, like some kind of sad clown.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

When I got home from work Friday, Dawn’s SUV still wasn’t in the driveway. Since the family hadn’t returned from Collinsville, I decided to head to an expensive restaurant and treat myself to a nice meal. Unfortunately, there was nothing nice about it; I felt like a complete loser sitting in a booth by myself wallowing in misery. I was certain the other diners were looking at me with either pity or scorn.

After placing my order, I realized I’d made a mistake by going out to eat. Things had been crazy at work, leaving few opportunities to contemplate my fucked-up family situation, but while I was waiting for my sushi, I had nothing but time to think.

My life was spiraling out of control, and I was doing nothing about it, paralyzed by my love for Dawn.

As far as she was concerned, though, there was only one love in her life. She’d told me that a thousand times.

Louie.

The snapshots in our photo album showed a dark-haired, square-jawed dude who apparently now sported even bigger muscles than he’d had two decades earlier — and he was no slouch back then.

To my great shame, Louie also towered over my beloved Dawn in all the photos, whereas I had to stand on my tiptoes to kiss her, on the rare occasions when she allowed such familiarities.

I wondered how many times HE had kissed her — and whether they’d kissed earlier that day in the prison visiting room.

As the waitress brought my sushi, I scoffed to myself. I already knew the answer.

The waitress frowned.

“I’m sorry, sir, do you find something funny?” she asked with a sour expression. For the first time, I noticed the woman had a huge wart on her nose, and I figured she thought I was laughing at her.

“Oh, no, Ma’am, I-I, it was just something I thought of,” I stumbled.

The woman’s lips drew a straight line. “Okay, then,” she said over her shoulder as she stormed away, making it clear she didn’t believe me.

Channeling some masochistic instinct, I left a huge tip to make up for my perceived infraction, even though I’d done nothing wrong, other than laugh at myself for being such a lovesick fool.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

The living room clock struck midnight, breaking hours of depressing silence. After returning home from the restaurant, I sat on the couch with the TV muted and my ears pricked, praying to hear the crunch of tires on the driveway.

The sound never came. The girls had obviously decided to stay in a hotel again, so once the witching hour arrived, I figured I’d call it a day and turn in.

Seconds after I hit the sack, naughty thoughts crept into my brain. With my heart pounding so strenuously, I could hear it in my neck, I opened my bottom drawer and retrieved my camisole and stockings from their hiding place beneath my t-shirts. I donned the frillies and stroked my dickie, trying to steer my fantasies away from my wife’s ex-husband. It was impossible — I kept imagining Louie in the starring role of my most frequent jerk-off scenario, in which he and Dawn cohabited while I served as the dominant couple’s sissy maid.

I came in less than a minute. After the last shot of spooge splatted my stomach, I began to panic. Jerking off to visions of my wife fucking her ex was one thing — but it was actually going to happen in real life. It was actually going to happen. It was actually going to happen. It was actually going to happen. It was actually going to happen …

I tried to crash. I couldn’t sleep a wink.

That goddamn letter kept screaming at me.

Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Tiger Bear. Ferocious Motherfucking Tiger Bear.

If Louie was a ferocious tiger bear, I wondered, then what was I?

A submissive kitten?

A sacrificial lamb?

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I was pulling my special bumpy cake from the oven when the front door rattled open, causing me to lose focus and burn my arm.

“Tim, where are you?” my wife’s insistent voice rang out. I set the cake on the stovetop and scurried toward the foyer to greet my family.

“Hey, guys, did you have a good trip?” I put on my faux smile.

Without responding, Dawn jerked her thumb toward the front door. “We’ve got a bunch of bags in the Lexus, but bring me wine first.”

“I’ll take an OJ,” Jess said.

“Diet Pepsi,” Tammy piped in.

“Gotcha,” I replied. “So, did you guys have fun?”

My wife grimaced. “Can you get me my wine, and then go get the bags from the Lexus like I asked?”

“Oh, sure, sorry,” I stammered before scuttling away, watching the girls kick off their shoes and plop onto the furniture.

After I’d retrieved the bags and served the drinks, my wife took a long sip of wine, smacked her lips, and set her glass on the table with a resolute clink.

“Tim, we need to talk,” she said. I glanced at the girls; they were trying to suppress smirks.

I folded my hands in front of my crotch and blinked tears away as my stomach did backflips. “Um … yeah, h-honey. What’s … what’s up?” I could barely get the words out with my teeth chattering at machine-gun speed.

Dawn allowed the agonizing quiet to dangle in the air for a few seconds. She knew damn well I was afraid she was going to announce that she wanted a divorce — which I’d told her a million times was my worst fear — and she was obviously getting a charge out of making me squirm in front of her daughters.

She finally sighed. “Well, Tim, Louie and the girls hit it off great,” she began.

My fake smile got bigger and faker. “Um, that’s g-great. I’m glad they’re able to connect after … after all these years.”

Tammy snickered. “Don’t even try it, Tim. You wish my dad never wrote that letter.”

“He’s GONNA wish it, anyway,” Jessica added with a snort.

I shifted from one foot to the other as Dawn sipped her wine.

“Listen, things are gonna change around here, Tim, and you’re probably not gonna like it,” she said. “I don’t—”

“Ohhhh,” I moaned, doubling over in half from the gut-punch. “OMG, honey, please! PLEASE!!! We can stay married … we can work something out …”

My wife sat back in her chair and crossed her legs with a smug flourish. “Well, Tim, I’m glad to hear that, because we ARE going to work something out.”

I perked up. “Really? OMG, thanks, honey!! Thank you!!! I really didn’t—”

Dawn held up her hand and I immediately piped down. She glanced at her daughters with a twinkle in her eye before continuing.

“Here’s the deal, Tim,” she said. “Like I told you, the girls really hit it off with their dad, and you already know how I feel about him. So, since he’s gonna need a place to stay when he gets out, I told him he can stay with us. Now, the only question is: Can you deal with that without acting like a little baby, or are we gonna have to get a divorce?”

I clasped my hands in front of me and began blubbering incomprehensive syllables that cracked the girls up.

“Please stop whining, Tim; you’re giving me a damn headache,” my wife said, draining her glass and handing it to me. “Get me another one — and then go take care of the Lexus; it needs a spruce-up after the trip.”

My head was swimming as I staggered from the room to carry out my wife’s order. From the kitchen, I could hear the jeers.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I tramped through the front door, exhausted from a long, stressful day at work. Before I got a chance to take off my coat, though, I was sent back out.

“You need to go gas up the Lexus,” my wife instructed. “I’m driving up to Collinsville first thing in the morning, so make sure all the fluids and stuff are full, too.”

“Um, okay, I’ll be right back, then,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“I’m thinking you can just grab a quick pizza while you’re at it,” my wife said before calling upstairs to her daughters: “Hey, guys, Tim’s headed out — pizza sound good?”

“Yeah, extra pepperoni,” Jessica replied from her bedroom.

“Have him pick up Diet Pepsi,” Tammy added.

I made a mental note of the ladies’ orders and slogged back to my Camry.

When I returned with the pizza, my family ate while I picked up the messes they’d made during the day. Someone had knocked over a box of Corn Flakes in the kitchen, leaving a trail of cereal strewn across the floor. Jess had spilled juice on her bedroom carpet, and I spent a half hour on my hands and knees scrubbing the stain. Tammy’s vanity chair was squeaky, so I had to figure out what was causing the noise; a little WD40 did the trick.

I didn’t get a chance to sit down until after nine — but the second my ass hit the couch cushion Dawn piled more work on me.

“I’m not sure what I’m wearing tomorrow,” she pondered aloud. “Tell you what, Tim, why don’t you go ahead and make sure all my shoes are ready, just in case?”

“S-sure, honey.”

With a silent groan, I coaxed my weary bones back into action.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

It was after midnight when I finally finished polishing my wife’s extensive shoe collection. Whichever pair she decided to wear, I thought bitterly as I plodded off to bed with sore hands and an achy heart, she would look nice for her ex-husband — the only man she’d ever loved, according to her.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

My coworker lost a big case when a jury returned a surprising guilty verdict after the trial had seemed to be going the defense’s way, and the talk around the firm was whether our important client would go to prison.

Every time I heard the ‘P’ word, I cringed, wondering what my wife was doing while I was busy earning a living.

Was she swapping spit with Louie in the visiting room? Did he have his hand on her thigh while they laughed about old memories?

Were they laughing about me?

I was sure of it.

There was plenty about me to ridicule.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

The front door opened and closed while I was hunched over the stove making hamburgers for my stepdaughters. Turning off the flame, I scurried from the kitchen to welcome my wife home from her trip.

Dawn was already on the couch when I got to the living room. After I picked up her purse from the foyer floor, and her red Gucci pumps from where she’d kicked them off near the sofa, I started to ask how the visit had gone, but she interrupted me by telling me to fetch her a glass of wine.

“I’m making burgers for the girls if you want one,” I offered.

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” she said. “You can come rub my feet when you’re done cooking, though.”

“Um, sure, honey, let me get those burgers done right quick, and then I’ll go get the lotion,” I replied, trying to tamp down my excitement. Since foot massages were the only physical contact I ever had with Dawn, I cherished the task.

With a bitchy huff, my wife pointed the remote toward the television. “Can you get me my wine first like I asked, Tim, and stop perving on my damn feet?” She couldn’t have sounded more annoyed.

I slapped my head. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

When the wine had been served and the hamburgers were well-done, I fixed the girls’ plates, adding sides of pickles and potato chips. Placing the dishes on a tray, I lugged the ensemble upstairs.

Jessica was relaxing in bed engrossed in her cellphone when I used my elbow to knock on her bedroom door, since my hands were full.

“Burger’s done,” I announced.

My stepdaughter didn’t look up. “I’m gonna need more OJ, Tim,” she said.

“Oh, sure, be right back, hon.”

I started to retrieve my stepdaughter’s half-empty glass but she beat me to it, and I had to stand there holding the tray, waiting patiently while she took her sweet time enjoying several dainty sips until the juice was gone. For the millionth time, I felt like a damned waiter in my own home — and just as that humble thought entered my mind, Tammy’s petulant voice called out from across the hallway:

“Tim! Where’s my burger?”

“Um, I’ll be right there, honey,” I replied, and as soon as Jess set her empty glass on the tray, I scuttled to Tammy’s room.

“Took you long enough,” my snotty younger stepdaughter carped from her spot at her vanity when I tapped on her bedroom door. “I’m starving — bring it here.”

As I set the plate down, Tammy smirked at me through the mirror. “So, what does my dad want to talk to you about?”

“Huh?” I blinked. “Um, I … I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, Ma must not have told you yet.” She snickered. “Oh, well — I’ll let her tell you.”

“Tell me what, hon?”

“Ask Mom,” Tammy said through a mouthful of burger.

With great trepidation, I hurried to retrieve Jessica’s orange juice refill with my brain on overload. Dawn had obviously called Tammy on the drive home, and told her that Louie wanted to talk to me. But … about what?

After serving Jess’s OJ and fetching Dawn’s favorite foot lotion, I reported to my lounging wife, debating whether to let her know what Tammy had said.

“Ugh, my feet are killing me,” she said, wiggling her toes. “I want a long one tonight.”

“S-sure,” I replied. Making up my mind to play dumb, I put the matter out of my thoughts and happily began working globs of lotion into my wife’s left foot, the way she liked. As I massaged, I stole quick glances up at the love of my life, who was typing something into her smartphone.

She finally set down the phone and addressed me. “Listen, Tim, you need to go on the prison website and request to be put on Louie’s visiting list.”

“Um … but … w-why?” My trembling voice exposed my fear.

“He wants to talk to you,” Dawn replied. “He says if he’s gonna move in here, there’s some stuff he needs to get straight between you.”

“Straight? Like … w-what?”

My wife shrugged. “He didn’t really say, other than he wants to get some stuff straightened out. Guy stuff, I guess. If I know Louie, he just wants everyone to know who’s gonna be the boss when he moves in here — and obviously that’ll be him.”

“Did … did you tell him I’m not gonna be a problem?”

My wife chuckled. “If you’re asking whether I told him you’re a little wus who’ll do anything I say — yes, Tim, I told him that.”

“Aw, come on, honey, don’t talk that way. Please.”

“Why?” Dawn arched an eyebrow. “It’s true, isn’t it? Are you NOT a little wus who’ll do anything I say?”

“I just … it’s just … I … I love you, Dawn.” I drew a breath. “I only want you to be happy.”

“Well, then, that makes two of us.” My wife smiled down on me as I continued working lotion into her foot. “I like being happy.”

“I love you, honey,” I repeated.

Dawn’s expression darkened. “You might not want to talk like that around Louie,” she said. “He was always pretty possessive — you know how Italian guys are.”

I nodded and squirted more lotion into my palms, doing my best to put Louie out of my mind and concentrate on the task at hand.

That was impossible, though, because Dawn kept talking about you-know-who.

“He’s such a badass,” she mused with a faraway look in her eye.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

It had been a tough week at the firm, and I’d hoped to spend a relaxing afternoon watching the tennis finals. Instead, I found myself driving to the Lakefront Correctional Facility some 300 miles away, struggling to hold the steering wheel with trembling hands.

Louie had told Dawn he wanted to meet with me one-on-one. I knew he planned to put me in my place during our visit, so part of me was relieved that I wouldn’t be subjected to such humiliation in front of the family — although the idea of facing the convict alone scared the shit of out me.

The trip seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was inching into the foreboding prison lobby. As I approached the guard station, I felt wobbly, and had to brace myself against the wall.

“You okay, there?” an overweight female corrections officer with gigantic boobs asked in a bored tone.

“Um, yeah, yeah.” I inhaled through my nose and pushed forward.

After checking in and being frisked by a smelly guard whose white uniform shirt was marred with an oblong coffee stain, I was pointed to a holding area. I cooled my heels with the other visitors for about 10 minutes before a group of scary-looking men in dungarees began filing into the visiting room. Louie was the tallest of the bunch. As soon as he spotted me, his lips curled up in a smirk.

He ambled toward me and I held out my hand. He looked at it and scoffed.

“We ain’t friends, punk,” he said.

I quickly retracted my handshake offer and clasped my palms in front of me while Louie gave me the once-over. After several uncomfortable seconds, he observed: “Damn, Dawn wasn’t kidding — you ARE a little shrimp. How tall are you?”

My cheeks felt hot. “Um, about 5’5.”

Louie shook his head as he took his seat at our assigned table. I settled in across from him and gripped the edges of my plastic chair.

“You’d be someone’s sweet boy if you was in here.” The muscular dago snorted. “You’d be cutting your dungarees into Daisy Dukes, and putting Kool-Aid on your lips — you’d make a purdy little sissy.”

I squirmed at the mention of the ‘S’ word.

Louie’s eyes narrowed.

“ARE you a sissy?” he demanded.

“A … I, uh, n-no … no, I’m not,” I lied.

“You better goddamn well not be,” he shot back. “I hate fags. Hate ‘em. One of them motherfuckers tried to make a move on me when I first got locked up, and I put his candy ass in the infirmary. None of ‘em have fucked with me since then.”

“Well, I … I’m not … gay.”

Louie’s expression betrayed his skepticism. “You sure about that? Dawn says you never even tried to fuck her.”

“That’s because … well, I … I’m impotent.” The last syllable was punctuated by a choking sound, which seemed to amuse my rival.

“She says you’re a simp who does everything you’re told,” he prodded. “Says you got no backbone at all. A little wus, she says.”

“Uh, I dunno. I just try to get along, that’s all,” I replied, with each word quivering. “And I really do try to make things—”

He held up his hand. “Stop babbling, punk. Are you a little wus who does what Dawn tells you to do, or not? She says you are.”

“Um, I … I guess so.”

“You guess so.” Louie regarded me with what appeared to be a mixture of amusement and disgust. “So, you never tried to fuck her, and she treats you like a little bitch. What do you get out of being married to her, then?”

“I … I …” Those three little words wouldn’t come out — because I feared my wife’s burly ex-husband would kick my ass right there in the visiting room if I told him how much I loved his main squeeze.

“I care about her,” I peeped.

“Are you sure you don’t get off on it?” He bore a hole through me with his gaze. “Don’t even try lying to me, you little twerp. I’m a stregone, motherfucker; I got the magic eye. You’re a little fifona who gets off on being treated like shit, aren’t you?”

“No, no, I just … I … I don’t like confrontations,” I fibbed.

My interrogator reached across the table and patted me on the head three times. “That’s good, cuz I don’t like confrontations either, see? That’s why when I move in, you’re gonna do everything I say, just like you do Dawn. Got it? Bitch?”

I coughed into my fist. “Um, yeah, I … I’m not gonna be a problem, Louie—”

The car thief poked his finger in my chest. “Don’t call me ‘Louie,’ bitch,” he bellowed. “I done told you — I ain’t your goddamn friend.”

“Um, okay, uh … er …”

“You can call me ‘sir,’ bitch.”

A nearby guard looked up from his phone. “Everything okay?” he asked me.

“Y-yeah, no problems,” I said. I wanted to beg the man to rescue me, but I kept my mouth shut.

When the guard buried his nose back in his cellphone, Louie leaned close, his forehead almost touching mine.

“Now, bitch,” he whispered. “Say it. Say, ‘yes, Sir, I’m sorry, Sir.’”

I felt my mouth form the mortifying words: “Y-yes, Sir, I’m s-sorry, Sir.”

“Say it louder, faggot.”

“Y-yes, Sir, I’m … I’m sorry, Sir.”

“And you’re gonna do what I say. Say it.”

“I … I’ll do what you say. S-sir.”

Louie tilted his head. “You get off on this shit, don’t you?”

“I … no, no, I don’t—”

“Bull fucking shit,” he cut me off with a jeer. “Fucking homo — I see right through your little ass. There’s been a million punks just like you come through here; you’re all a bunch of sissy faggots at heart. But let me tell you right now — there ain’t gonna be none of that bullshit when I move in. I hate that goddam fag shit. You hear? This ain’t about you. Dawn says you’re her little piggy bank, and that’s what you’re gonna keep on being. For me and her — and my girls. Got it?”

I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Um, yeah.”

“What did you say, bitch?”

I squeezed my chair harder. “Yes, Sir.”

Louie leaned back and sucked his teeth. “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Now, bitch, I’m gonna lay down a few rules for when I move in, but I’m hungry, so I wanna eat first. Go tell that fuck-face at the canteen you want two salami sandwiches and two Snicker’s bars. Act like it’s for both of us — but if you take a bite, I’ll put my foot up your ass. I’m fucking starving, and the salami they got inside tastes like merda.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. As I stumbled toward the canteen area, I told myself that I couldn’t have eaten anything anyway — one bite and I’d have puked all over the visiting room.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

When I returned home from Collinsville, I was forced to park on the street because there was no room in the driveway. I groaned when I recognized the three vehicles that occupied the parking spaces — my stepdaughters’ bitchy friends were over. For years, they’d watched my family treat me like shit, so they had little respect for me themselves.

Dealing with company was the last thing I felt like doing after my harrowing prison visit, but I squared my shoulders and marched into the house, determined to keep my misery to myself. I found Dawn chilling on her recliner, sipping wine and holding court with her daughters and their besties, Courtney, Angela and Hayley.

My beloved wife looked up with a smile when I ambled into the living room. “Ah, good, you’re home,” she said. “We were just about to order Chinese; you can go ahead and pick it up instead of having them deliver it. Red Dragon — I’ll call it in, so leave now.”

“Um, sure, honey. Can you order chicken egg foo young for me?”

Dawn smirked. “I don’t know, Tim, you’re getting a little flabby — you don’t want to be short AND fat, do you?”

She was clearly half-drunk and showing off for her audience. It worked, because everyone in the room cracked up.

Even though our three guests had visited dozens of times and were used to our household dynamic, they still seemed a bit taken aback when I wilted and replied, “um, okay, I’ll just make a salad when I get home.”

The last thing I heard before crossing the threshold was Angela asking: “So, how’s it gonna work with Tim when your dad moves in?”

For days, I had agonized nonstop over the same question. I desperately wanted to stick around to hear the reply, but I had a duty to fulfill — my family and their guests needed to eat. It was up to me to feed them, and by Jiminy, I vowed, I’d rise to the challenge.

As I trooped back toward my Camry, I almost felt like a man. A man on a mission. A caveman off to forage for his loved ones. A provider.

I slipped into my car and looked in the rearview mirror. The hollow eyes of a spineless wimp stared back at me, and all my grand delusions melted like butter in a microwave.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Since all the seats were occupied in the living room, I ate my salad alone in the kitchen, chewing as quietly as possible while straining my ears. I could only pick up snippets of conversation, although I distinctly heard the words ‘Louie,’ ‘prison’ and ‘sexy’ several times.

For a quick second, I could’ve sworn I heard my wife say ‘he’s a sissy,’ although I sighed with relief when I realized she was talking about her honey garlic shrimp order being ‘too fishy.’

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Dawn munched her fortune cookie as I headed toward the kitchen with the surplus food.

“Hold up, Tim,” she said. “I want to know what you and Louie talked about today.”

I squeezed the takeout bag, glancing at our guests. “Um, can … can … do you think we can discuss it later, honey?”

“No, we’ll talk about it now,” my wife shot back. “There’s no secrets around here. The girls are like family.”

I shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, um … he wants me … I’ll be setting up a room in the garage. Um, starting tonight.”

“The garage?” Dawn held her hand over her mouth but it didn’t suppress her delighted giggle. “I thought he was gonna make you sleep in the guest room. Did he say why he wants you in the garage?”

Hanging my head, I muttered, “he says I … I …”

My voice trailed off.

“Speak up, Tim!” Dawn barked.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “He says I don’t deserve to sleep in the same house as you.”

Courtney slapped her forehead. “Daaaaang, that’s cold.”

“Well, my dad really loves my ma,” Tammy said, her voice brimming with pride. “Tim knows that. He needs to deal with it.”

Hayley nodded at me and told Jessica, “Your poor stepdad looks like he’s gonna cry.”

“Nah, Tim’s glad my mom and dad are getting back together — aren’t you, Tim?” Jess’s smirk cut like a razorblade.

“Um, s-sure, all I want is for everyone to be happy,” I stammered. “It’ll all work out.”

“Aw, I think that’s sweet,” Angela giggled.

Courtney jutted her bottom lip. “Poor Tim — are you jealous?”

“He SHOULD be jealous.” Dawn sniffed at me. “Wait till you guys see Louie.”

“Oh, we saw the pictures.” Courtney fanned herself. “He’s definitely a DILF.”

My wife’s lips twisted. “And Tim’s definitely not.”

That one brought the house down.

When the laughter subsided, I was saved by the bell when Tammy ordered me to clean out her car. Since I’d just spruced up her Corvette the day before, I knew she was only trying to impress her friends, but she unknowingly did me a favor by letting me get the hell out of there.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

I rubbed a dollop of lotion between my hands to warm it while Dawn wiggled her butt on the mattress until she found a comfortable position. When she nodded at me, I began rubbing her foot.

“So, Tim, tell me more about today with Louie,” she said.

I blinked. “Um, well … like I said, he wants me to start sleeping in the garage now.”

“I told you, he’s very possessive,” Dawn said. She looked off to the side and smiled. “I can’t stand it when most guys are like that. But with Louie … he always said he wanted to protect me.”

Like a simp, I nodded and redoubled my efforts, slavishly trying to make my wife feel good while she yammered on about her ex. I wanted to scream, “IF HE WANTED TO PROTECT YOU, THEN WHY DID THE SONOFABITCH RUN OFF AND LEAVE YOU WITH TWO MOUTHS TO FEED?”

Instead, I worked my fingers around the ball of Dawn’s foot, glancing up at her every few seconds. Her pussy peeked out from beneath her nightgown, and I did my best to avert my eyes, although it was impossible — and, sure enough, she caught me looking.

With a smirk, Dawn spread her legs and patted her pussy twice. “Who does this belong to, Tim? Tell me.”

“L-Louie.”

“Goddamn right.” She tapped her vagina five more times. “It’s never been yours, that’s for damn sure. Now, what else did you guys talk about?”

I debated whether to hold back the humiliating details of our visit, but since I figured she’d find out anyway, I went ahead and spilled the beans.

“Um, he wants me to … to call him, ‘sir.’”

Dawn cocked her head. “Really?”

“Um, yeah … I called him ‘Louie’ and he got really mad; he said I wasn’t his friend.”

“So, when he tells you to do something, you’ll have to say, ‘yes, sir?’”

“Uh, yeah.”

“OMG, that is SO fucking hot.” My wife’s hand found its way back to her pussy; she stroked herself a few times, lost in fantasyland before snapping out of it and yanking her foot from my grip.

“That’s enough, Tim, get out of here.”

As I pulled myself to my feet, Dawn sighed. “Louie’s such a badass, isn’t he?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded.

Dawn’s index finger sank into the folds of her vagina. “Tell me again — what will you have to say when Louie tells you to do something?”

“Um … y-yes, sir,” I whispered.

“And why do you have to sleep in the garage?”

“Be-because he says I don’t deserve to sleep in the same house as you.”

“He really loves me, don’t he?”

A tear escaped and felt hot on my cheek. “Yes.”

My sneering wife flicked her fingertips toward the door. “Go on. Get out of here, Tim. Enjoy the garage.”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

My first evening in the garage was a goddamn nightmare. It was freezing cold, and there was no bed, so I had to lie on the concrete floor with an old comforter and a pillow.

Even if I’d had a king-sized pillow-top mattress, though, there was no getting to sleep. I had way too much on my mind, and too heavy a heart to do anything but curl up and shiver, crying the night away.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

My eyes were still puffy when I got to work the next morning, and everyone kept asking if I was okay. I said I had a cold, and after the 8am meeting, my partners told me to go home so I wouldn’t infect the whole office.

Before heading back to the house, I stopped at a furniture store and bought myself a single bed. The girls were still asleep when I returned, so I set up the bed in the back corner of the garage, and then tried to occupy my mind by watching TV.

Dawn drifted into the living room a little after ten. She frowned when she saw me.

“What are you doing home?”

“I … a hearing got cancelled, and there were no other appointments, so I figured I’d just take the rest of the day off.” I felt bad about lying to my beloved wife, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth — that I’d been crying all night and was sent home sick after telling my partners I had a cold. I knew that would only annoy her, so I skirted the truth.

It didn’t matter. She was annoyed anyway.

“You’re gonna need to find something to do,” she snapped. “Patty’s coming over today and I don’t want you hanging around bugging us.”

“Oh, I didn’t know your sister was in town.”

“Just for one day — and I guarantee she doesn’t want to spend it looking at you.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I know; she hates my guts. Your whole family does.”

“They don’t respect you,” Dawn shot back. “Why should they?”

There was no way to answer that, so I changed the subject. “Um, since I’m home, can I make you breakfast?”

My wife shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take some oatmeal.”

I started to say “coming right up,” but since Dawn seemed to be in a pissy mood, I simply nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen. My servile enthusiasm sometimes got on her nerves, and she’d admonish me for being ‘such a pathetic little kiss-ass’ or ‘a needy little wus,’ or any number of her go-to put-downs.

When I got back to the living room with my wife’s meal, I saw that Jessica was awake and lounging on the couch in her pajamas, so I asked if she wanted anything to eat.

She ignored me and asked her mom, “What’s Tim doing here — isn’t Aunt Patty supposed to come over today?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be gone by the time she gets here,” my wife said.

My stepdaughter shrugged. “Oh, I’ll take an omelet, then. And some toast.”

“Coming right up.”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

From my post at the stove, I could hear the conversation in the next room.

“Have you told Aunt Patty about Dad moving in?”

“Yeah — she keeps telling me to get a divorce.”

“Man, she really hates Tim, huh?”

“She thinks he’s a loser, no matter how much money he makes. She always told me I could do better.”

“Well, did you tell her you WERE doing better by seeing other guys?” The mirth in Jess’s voice was palpable.

“No, you know your aunt — she’s kind of a prude. As much as she hates Tim, I don’t think she’d approve of me having affairs.”

“But they weren’t affairs; you didn’t go behind his back, Ma. Tim knew what you were doing all along. You didn’t hide it from him — and you’re not hiding anything about you and Dad.”

“I know, honey, but it’s more complicated than that. Your aunt has her own way of looking at things — like the 1950s.”

There was a pause before Jess ventured a question: “So … if she’s so old-fashioned, how can she be okay with Dad moving in, then?”

“Well, honey, she’s NOT okay with it. Not while I’m still married. That’s why she keeps pushing me to get a divorce.”

“Oh.” Another pause. “So, why DON’T you divorce him?”

I heard Dawn scoff. “Why should I? As long as he keeps paying the bills, keeps the house clean and keeps his mouth shut, I’ve got no reason to divorce him.”

“And he’s seriously just gonna step aside when Dad moves in?”

“What else is the little shrimp gonna do?” My wife tittered. “Your father already has him scared to death — not only does he have to sleep in the garage, your dad told him he has to call him ‘sir.’”

“OMG, that is SO hilarious! Dad’s such a thug!” There was a pause. “Can I make him call me ‘Miss?’”

“If you want; I don’t care.”

I knew Tammy had entered the room when her sister said, “Guess what? Dad told Tim he has to call him ‘Sir’ — and Ma says I can make him call me ‘Miss,’ too.”

My youngest stepdaughter sniffed. “Knowing that perv, he’ll probably get off on it.”

I gulped. Like her father, Tammy had hit too close to home with her assessment of me.

After Jessica’s omelet was done, I buttered two pieces of toast, added a sprig of garnish, and carried the meal to the living room.  As soon as Tammy saw me, she said, “Fix me one, too.”

Jessica smirked at her sister. “Aren’t you gonna make him say, ‘Yes Miss?’ Ma says you can.”

“No.” Tammy scowled at me. “Just make my eggs.”

“Um, coming right up.”

Not to be outdone, Jess snapped her fingers and pointed to her empty glass. “More OJ, Tim. Say, ‘Yes, Miss.’”

I looked to my wife for support, but her sneer told me everything I needed to know.

Clearing my throat, I whispered, “Yes, Miss.”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I killed several hours in the Public Library before the facility closed at 5:30. When I got home, I saw a strange vehicle in the driveway and figured it was my sister-in-law’s rental car, so I pulled a U-turn and headed to my favorite sushi spot to waste more time.

Sitting in a booth near the back of the restaurant, I picked at my appetizer and contemplated my unsettling situation at home. I had never fantasized about my stepdaughters — certainly not when they were young, but even after they became adults. But since Jessica had mandated earlier that I respond to her orders by saying ‘Yes, Miss,’ my submissive Spidey sense had been going haywire. How could it not? She was beautiful, 20 years old, and bitchy like her mother — the exact kind of woman that had always turned me on.

“She’s your stepdaughter, she’s your stepdaughter, she’s your goddamn stepdaughter,” I kept telling myself as images of her sexy little smirk filled my brain.

My mind then turned to Louie, and I shuddered when it occurred to me how apoplectic he’d be if he ever found out I was having naughty thoughts about his oldest child.

“Baseball, baseball, baseball,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

It didn’t help. I rubbed my thighs together and squirmed in my seat as the waitress brought my sushi.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

The house was dark when I came home just before midnight, but even though the lights were off, I could see that the place was trashed. After hanging up my jacket, I quietly removed the plates and empty takeout containers from the dining room table and fetched the dustpan and whisk broom so I could sweep the crumbs from the floor, since I didn’t want to disturb anyone by firing up the vacuum cleaner.

Once the place was spic and span, I trudged off to the garage. I hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, so I figured I’d be out like a light as soon as I hit my new bed.

Instead, I spent a second straight evening tossing, turning and bawling. I also jacked off with Jessica and Louie front and center in my fantasies despite my best efforts to think of other stuff.

Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss. Yes, Sir. Yes, Miss.

After I came, I cried some more.

Then, I masturbated again.

When dawn broke, my balls were drained. So were my emotions. I had no more cum or tears left to squeeze out.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Jessica had bossed me around since she was nine years old, but requiring me to call her ‘Miss’ seemed to unleash her inner princess, and she started dogging me for every little thing.

One of my weekly chores had always been to wash the family vehicles, and my work had never elicited complaints — but the new Jessie seemed to look for reasons to criticize me.

“Weren’t you supposed to wash the Jeep earlier?” she asked me one night during dinner.

“I DID wash it.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like it. You left a McDonald’s cup in the console.”

“I left it there on purpose,” I explained. “It was still half-full.”

“Use your head, Tim — what makes you think I’d want to drink something after it sat in a hot Jeep all day?”

“Well, you got mad at me when I dumped out that cup last week.”

“Because that still had vodka in it, stupid,” Jessica snapped.

Every fiber of my being wanted to ask her why she’d been drinking in the Jeep, and how she’d obtained alcohol in the first place, since she was still a few months shy of her 21^st birthday. But I knew better than to question her, and Dawn didn’t seem at all concerned, so I kept my mouth shut while Jess kept carping.

“Oh, and the tank is only half-full,” she continued.

“Yeah, sorry, I was gonna gas up the cars tomorrow,” I said.

“I need it gassed up tonight; I’m going out with Hayley,” Jess shot back. “And wash it again — good this time.”

“Ugh, alright,” I grunted.

“What’s that, Tim?”

I glanced at Dawn and Tammy, who were watching with amused expressions.

“I didn’t hear you, Tim,” my eldest stepdaughter prodded.

Closing my eyes, I whispered, “Yes, Miss.”

“That’s better.” Jessica sat back in her chair and smirked.

Tammy folded her arms. “Tim, you’re a weirdo,” she snarled. “Who lets people treat them like that?”

Dawn snorted. “You’re just now figuring out that Tim’s a weirdo?”

“Well, I think he likes it,” Tammy insisted. “He’s one of those guys who gets off on people yelling at him.”

“Who cares?” Jessica shrugged. “Let him like it — as long as he does what he’s supposed to. Right, Ma?”

“Right.” Dawn chuckled and shook her head. “You guys are just like your father.”

 

 //\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

As parole day loomed, Dawn ran me ragged getting everything ready for the new head of the household to move in. The jobs seemed nonstop. Louie had mentioned during a visit that he hated the color blue because it reminded him of cops, so I had to replace the navy carpeting in the foyer and repaint the kitchen trim from robin’s nest to goldenrod. According to my wife, she and her ex had honeymooned in a hotel that had a waterbed, and because she wanted to relive that experience, I had to shell out for a king-sized, deluxe model.

But that wasn’t close to my biggest ‘Louie’ expense.

“He’s gonna need transportation when he comes home,” Dawn told me one night while I was rubbing her feet. “You should get him a new car so he’ll have something nice to drive. He’s never had a new car before.”

By that point, I was completely cowed, and had resigned myself to my fate, so I simply nodded and continued my foot massage.

“He’d probably want a muscle car, but I’m scared he’d end up driving 100mph and getting a ticket,” Dawn mused. “I don’t want him back in prison, so it would probably be best to get him a truck or something. You know?”

“Um, yeah, that sounds good.” I lied. It didn’t sound good at all.

The thought that I was agreeing to buy a truck for the man who owned my wife’s heart made me hate myself more than I already did.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I had just plopped into bed after finishing a long list of chores when my phone beeped with the text message I’d been dreading:

almost home

With a defeated sigh, I rose from the mattress, retrieved the bag of rose petals I’d collected from the garden earlier, and shambled out of the garage. The brand-new Dodge Ram 1500 pickup that had just set me back six figures gleamed in the driveway, while my weathered Camry was relegated to the street — a bit of symbolism that wasn’t lost on me as I began sprinkling the rose petals on the front stairs and walkway in preparation for the king’s arrival.

Dawn had fired several last-minute instructions at me before leaving with the girls to pick up Louie from the prison, and as she passed the rosebushes near the driveway on her way to the Lexus, she issued one final directive.

“You need to pull some of those roses and spread the petals out on the stairs and sidewalk,” she ordered before explaining to her daughters: “The flower girl, your second cousin, Maria, put down roses at our wedding — OMG, she was so cute! — and your father always said that was romantic.”

“Ooh, I’m sure Dad’s gonna love it,” Jessica said as she slipped into the SUV’s front passenger seat and grinned at me. “Pick out some nice roses for my dad, Tim — and don’t prick your fingers, ‘kay?”

“Yes, Miss,” I muttered.

After Dawn settled in behind the wheel, she donned her Versace sunglasses and turned my way. “I’ll text you when we’re close to home, and you can put the petals out then, so the wind doesn’t blow ‘em all away,” she said.

I nodded.

Tammy smirked at me from the backseat. “Are you scared with my dad coming home, Tim?” she asked for the umpteenth time.

I spewed my standard, groveling non-answer: “I honestly don’t see there being any problems — I just want everything to go okay, and for you guys to be happy. That’s all I want. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy, I swear. I just—”

Tammy cut me off by rolling up her window. She said something to her mom and sister that made them laugh.

I found myself in a familiar spot: Standing in my driveway waving goodbye to my family while feeling like the biggest fucking loser in the world.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

From what I could hear outside the front door, Dawn’s homecoming ideas were a hit.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me — a truck? Wow, baby, I can’t believe it. Seriously, I’m bowled the fuck over. This is the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen!” The familiar masculine voice got louder, cutting through me like a razor-sharp icicle. “Damn, roses, too? OMG, just like our wedding! Thank you, baby!”

“Anything for you, Tiger Bear,” Dawn replied, making me cringe.

When the door creaked open, I had to brace myself against the table to keep from falling. Somehow, I mustered the strength to stand upright and get on with the business at hand. With a set jaw, I picked up the tray I’d prepared with a shot glass, a fifth of Jack Daniels and a bowl of ruffled potato chips, and lugged the ensemble to the living room.

Louie filled the house, literally and figuratively, as he stood in the foyer looking around at his new castle. When he noticed me approaching, he smirked.

I greeted him exactly as my wife had instructed: “Welcome home, sir; would you like a drink, sir?”

“Hell, yeah,” Louie said, falling onto the couch and propping his feet on the clean coffee table. “Bring that shit over here.”

I hurried to set the tray in front of the new master of the house. Without being told, I poured his drink before backing away and waiting there with my hands folded in front of me, unsure what to do.

Louie raised his shot glass. “Like my Uncle Carmine used to say: ‘Beviamo alla nostra.’” After draining the glass, he poured himself another measure as Dawn settled on the couch next to him, while their daughters shared the loveseat.

“I haven’t had good Jack in ages — tastes like fucking heaven compared to that nasty-ass prune-o they make in the joint,” Louie said before knocking down a second shot.

He set down his glass and snarled at me.

“You! Take your ass to the garage — and stay there until you’re called.”

“Y-yes, sir.” I couldn’t bring myself to pry my eyes open, but I could feel everyone’s leers roasting me like the Caribbean sun at high noon.

“Can I have him get me something to drink first, Dad?” I heard Jessica ask.

“Sure, honey.”

My eldest stepdaughter snapped her fingers. “Orange juice, Tim. And hurry up.”

I opened my eyes and blinked. “Yes, Miss.”

Louie fell back onto the couch laughing while Dawn flashed a wry smile.

“Told you.” My wife nudged her lover’s arm. “She’s bossy just like you are.”

“Hey, don’t blame that shit on me,” Louie joshed back. “You’re pretty damn bossy yourself! Your ma used to complain about it all the time!”

As I scuttled toward the kitchen, Tammy called after me, “grab me a Diet Pepsi while you’re in there, Tim.”

“And get me a wine,” Dawn added.

Thankfully, my wife and youngest stepdaughter weren’t requiring me to reply ‘Yes, Miss,’ which allowed me to cling to a fragment of dignity as I scurried to the kitchen.

After the ladies’ drinks were served, Louie poured himself yet another shot and started to toast his family, but he lowered his glass when he noticed me.

“Why am I still looking at you?” He jerked his thumb toward the door. “I told you — get da fuck outta here. If we want something, we’ll call you.”

I managed to croak, “Y-yes, sir,” before slinking away to the soul-crushing sound of feminine giggles.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I spent the rest of the evening sitting on the edge of my bed in the garage, listening for a summons that never came.

It was the loneliest night of my life.

There would be many more.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

The first week after Louie moved in was pure hell, although the events didn’t play out how I’d anticipated.

In the time leading up to the parole date, I’d wondered nonstop how things might work with a new head of household taking over. There were several possible scenarios, all of them scary, and some that also made me horny. I knew Louie was going to be a bully and treat me like shit, and I figured I’d be in for a lot more work having to clean his messes in addition to picking up after the girls. I envisioned myself doing chores nonstop and constantly fetching drinks and running other errands — and I jacked off fantasizing about doing those duties while clad in a maid’s outfit. After shooting my wad, I’d be back to fearing all the situations that possibly awaited me, and the constant humiliations I figured I’d be subjected to.

The reality turned out to be far more demoralizing.

At Dawn’s behest, I’d taken vacation the week Louie came home, so I’d be available for anything he might want. The problem was, he didn’t want anything, other than for me to stay invisible. That meant sitting in the garage all day, praying in vain for someone to call me. The girls had gotten so spoiled, I figured they’d at least summon me once in a while to fetch snacks and drink refills, but they apparently were doing it themselves, since I never heard from them.

There was a small bathroom in the garage, and I had purchased a mini-fridge for myself, so I had no reason to go into the house — and I sure as hell wasn’t about to disobey the new king by coming up with a reason to go inside, as badly as I wanted to.

The third day after Louie moved in, I was lying in bed watching a movie on my smartphone when Jessica poked her head through the side door.

“Mom says you need to come clean.”

“Yes, Miss, I’ll be right there,” I gushed, although by then, Jess had shut the door.

I rolled out of bed and smoothed my clothes before venturing into my own home for the first time in days. The place was a fucking mess.

Louie and Dawn were chilling on the couch watching TV, and when I plodded into the living room, the ex-con looked up at me with bared teeth.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” He pointed. “Get your ass back in the garage, bitch — I told you I don’t want to look at your punk ass.”

My wife put her hand on her lover’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Tiger Bear, I told Jess to have him come clean. I can’t stand sitting in this mess anymore.”

Louie huffed. “Well, can’t he do that shit at night, when we’re asleep? I don’t want that little twerp breathing down our neck.”

“Sure, baby, whatever you want.” Dawn waved her hand at me. “Back in the garage, Tim. Wait until midnight before you come back and start cleaning — and I want this place spotless, got it?”

“Of course … um, thanks,” I croaked.

Louie scoffed.

“He thanks you for treating him like a bitch; the little fag gets off on it, I’m telling you.” The sneering Sicilian pointed toward the garage. “Now, get da fuck outta here!”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I was glad when Monday came around and my vacation was over, because it meant I didn’t have to sit in the garage all day pining for my estranged family — although when I got to work, I could think of nothing else. During the morning meeting, I was so overcome with emotion, I bolted from my seat at the conference table and ran to the bathroom in tears.

When I emerged, Herb, the managing partner, took me in his office and asked if everything was okay. I lied and told him there’d been a death in the family, although I declined his offer to take bereavement leave, saying I felt it best to continue working.

I tried to do just that and concentrate on my caseload, but that first day back was rough. Several times I had to wipe my eyes to keep tears from dripping onto important documents.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

We humans are a resilient lot, with the ability to adapt to the most unthinkable conditions, so it didn’t take long for me to get used to the disheartening new normal. Not to say that the routine didn’t rip out my insides, because it surely did, every minute of every day. But at least I’d stopped bawling about it at work, and wasn’t sick to my stomach all the time.

Still, I felt like a goddamn ghost. My family, including the cocky new addition, merrily went about their lives just a few feet away from me, although they might as well have been in another solar system, since our paths never crossed. When I wasn’t at work, I’d hunker down in the garage with my ear pressed against the door that connected to the kitchen, pathetically hoping to catch a snippet of laughter or some other sound from people who seemed to have forgotten all about me.

Every now and then, I’d hear footsteps and the refrigerator open and close, which I deduced was family members getting drink refills, although since they had food delivered most nights, that was about the only time anyone went into the kitchen. There were rarely any other sounds for me to hear — but that didn’t stop me from spending hours sitting on the floor with my ear at the door.

During moments of clarity, I’d ask myself why I was putting up with it all.

In the end, after much soul-searching, the answer always came out the same.

Dawn.

I did it for her.

I was still madly in love with my wife, although I had no earthly idea why, because it made no logical sense whatsoever. Despite how she’d turned her back on me, tossing me aside like a rotten apple core, I knew I couldn’t live without her. I vowed to endure the new paradigm and keep paying the bills like an invisible Santa Claus, clinging to the hope that things would eventually change once Louie got settled in.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Even though I was banished from my family’s presence, they still found a way to use me by adopting a schedule that ensured their comfort while keeping me in exile.

Each morning, I’d wash up in the sink (the small garage bathroom didn’t have a shower), then I’d throw on some sweats before tiptoeing into the house to clean. There were always huge messes for me to take care of while everyone slept in. I had to use a flashlight, while working as quietly as possible, which made the job ten times more difficult. It was a major pain in the ass having to hold the flashlight in my mouth while sweeping the carpets; a normal person would’ve just turned on the damn lights and used the vacuum cleaner, but being a spineless wimp, I didn’t want to find out what might happen if I woke Louie up.

When the house was clean, I’d change into my suit and head to the firm. After work, I’d drive straight home and take care of the outside chores like landscaping or washing cars.

A couple times each week, I’d get a text from Dawn explaining that the family was going out to eat, or headed to some other outing. On those occasions, my job was to clean all the bedrooms and the master bathroom. Then, it was back to the garage. Back to the agonizing isolation.

One evening after work, I parked in my spot on the street, since there was no longer room for my Camry in the driveway, and noticed some mud on Louie’s truck. I ducked into the garage to change clothes before dragging out the pail, hose and cleaning materials.

As I washed Louie’s Ram, I sneaked peeks through the front window into the living room, where I could see the backs of two heads touching. My wife and her man were snuggled on the couch watching a movie, while upstairs, the lights were on in each of the girls’ rooms, and I kept checking to see if they’d pass their windows.

There were tears in my eyes as I washed the expensive new truck I’d bought, while the man who’d been the recipient of my generosity chilled inside the house with the woman I adored. In a rare moment of defiance, I stopped working and stood there blatantly staring through the window, not caring if anyone saw me looking.

Neither one of them turned around, although Louie did kiss my wife on the side of her head one time after she’d said something that made him laugh. Then, she fed him some popcorn, and he licked butter off her fingers.

Fueled by boiling jealousy, I marched across the lawn and pressed my nose against the window, hoping Louie or Dawn would turn around and see me peeping at them. Maybe they’d come outside and yell at me. Hell, maybe Louie would kick my ass. I didn’t care — anything for some human contact.

But my wife and her man never budged. At one point I balled my fist, feeling the urge to pound on the window to get their attention.

Instead, I slinked away and finished washing Louie’s truck. Then, it was back to the motherfucking garage.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

From my spot on the floor with my ear to the door, I heard heavy-laden footsteps on linoleum, and I knew Louie was approaching. I jumped into bed and was able to grab my cellphone and pretend to be looking at it a split-second before he strode into the garage.

He snorted. “You look comfortable, bitch. Stand your ass up.”

I scrambled out of bed and backed up until my butt hit the wall.

“I got a job for you, bitch,” the smarmy Sicilian said with a scoff. “Come with me.”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

As we approached Louie’s truck, I was convinced he was going to make me ride in the back, so I heaved a sigh of relief when he told me to get in the passenger’s seat. Without a word, he fired up the engine and pulled out of the driveway. I was dying to know where we were headed, but kept my mouth shut.

Louie finally broke the silence when we were on the freeway.

“We’re going over to my cousin Joey’s,” he explained. “Whatever you see there, you didn’t see — capisce?”

“Um, yes, sir.” I was petrified, wondering what kind of place he was taking me to, and why.

Louie flipped on the radio, cutting off further conversation. I held onto my knees to keep from fidgeting and watched the scenery fly past the window.

Our journey ended after about a half-hour, when we pulled into the circular driveway of a remote, imposing Tudor. Louie got out of the truck and strode toward the house, while I scrambled to keep up.

When we got on the porch, a stocky man with slicked-back, graying hair emerged from the front entranceway with his arms extended. Louie leaned in for a long man-hug, while I stood nearby with my hands in my pockets. When the men broke their embrace, I followed them inside.

“Il Cugino!” the beefy, older man said to my wife’s ex, reaching up and patting his cheek. “Pazzo Luigi — how you doin’ since you got out? You need anything at all?”

“No, Joey, I’m all set up, thanks to this punk,” Louie gestured toward me. “This is Dawn’s little bitch of a husband I was tellin’ you about.”

Joey regarded me with a sneer. “So, you’re the little cornuto, eh? Well, the family always loved Dawn, so you’re a lucky guy being married to her, you know that?”

“Um, yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Sir, huh?”

“I told you, Joey — the guy’s a fuckin’ fag,” Louie said. “I make him call me sir, so he remembers who’s boss.”

“Maybe YOU need to remember who’s boss.” The corpulent dago frowned at his younger cousin. “You fucked up when you abandoned your wife and two daughters, you know that, don’t you? Carmine wasn’t happy at all.”

“I know, I know, Rocco never stopped telling me, the whole time I was in prison.” Louie cleaned his fingernail. “I fucked up. I know it. I fucked up bad.”

“Yes, you did. Carmine wanted you to settle down and get your head straight,” Joey said. “You were never gonna go anywhere in the family with the stupid shit you were doing. Stealing cars? And getting busted three times? What the fuck, Luigi?”

“I know, I was a cretino. I wasn’t using my head back then. I was young and stupid, just doing whatever I felt like. It’s different now. I’ve changed.”

“So, you say.”

“I have, Joey. That’s why I got back with Dawn. Look, I know I fucked up. She was always the one for me. I was stupid, and I want to make things right. I’m trying to make things right.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

“Is … um, is Uncle Carmine gonna give me a job?”

“He says he’s thinking about it.” Joey stared at his younger cousin. “He feels responsible for your parents getting killed, you know that. He’s always gonna have a soft spot for you — and you know how he always felt about that little firecracker of yours.”

“I know. He said she was the one woman who could keep my head on straight, and he was right. That’s why we’re back together.”

“Well, Carmine was pleased when he heard that, but he wants to know what the deal is with this little frocio.” Joey nodded toward me. “What, exactly, is the situation here?”

“He’s a sap.” Louie snorted. “He does everything Dawn tells him to do. She married the little fag for his money after we broke up, although he can't fuck because his dick won’t get hard. Not that Dawn would let him, anyway; she treats him like a little bitch, making him do all the housework and shit. Like I said, he’s a fucking sap. No backbone; since I been home, I’ve been making him stay in the garage — but he still sticks around and pays for everything. He even bought me that truck out there.”

“Seriously?” Joey looked at me like I was a bug. “You bought a truck for the guy who’s fucking your wife?”

“Um, I … I…” With my head bowed, I kicked at the carpet. “I just want to keep everyone happy. Sir.”

Joey scoffed. “And you say this fuckin’ perdente is a lawyer?”

“Yeah, some bigshot at a firm downtown,” Louie said. “A partner.”

Joey glared at me. “What kind of law do you practice, cornuto?”

I gulped. “Um … we do some probate, a little estate law — we don’t really specialize, sir. A little of everything.”

The older man turned to his cousin. “We might be able to use him. Aldo keeps saying he needs legal help since Ray’s little accident. And your uncle says now that you’re back with that donna forte, he’s open to maybe letting you come back, because he thinks you might finally settle the fuck down and stop doing stupid shit.”

“I am, Joey, I’m telling you.”

“I want to believe you, Luigi. So does your uncle. But you’re gonna have to show us something. And Carmine says he needs to be sure this little twerp ain’t gonna be a problem — otherwise, we’ll need to get rid of his ass.”

My blood ran cold when it hit me what this obvious mafiosi had just implied.

Louie waved his hand. “Nah, he ain’t gonna be a problem. I told you — he’s got no fucking spine.”

“Yeah, but being spineless don’t mean he won’t run his fucking mouth. Is he gonna be loyal to the family, or will he go blabbing to the fucking cops the first time the heat comes down?”

“The little fag will do whatever Dawn tells him to do, which means he’ll do whatever the family tells him to do,” Louie replied. “Believe me, there’s nothing to worry about there. He’s spineless, but he ain’t stupid.”

Joey stared at me for several agonizing seconds. “We’ll see,” he said, before striding to a hallway desk and opening the top drawer. He produced a jar of Vaseline and two large red balloons that appeared to be stuffed with … something.

“We’re gonna put your loyalty to the test,” Joey said as he handed me the items. “Shove them balloons up your ass.”

“Uh, wha—?” I blinked. “I … uh … I’m sorry, what was that, sir?”

Joey’s eyes flashed. “You heard me — I said pull down your fucking pants and shove them balloons up your ass, you little shit. Use the Vaseline.”

Scared out of my wits, I fumbled with my belt as Joey continued his instructions.

“There’s a car in the garage; you’re gonna drive to the address I give you. Someone will let you in, and you’ll go to the bathroom and shit those balloons out. Then, you’re gonna dump the car somewhere where nobody will see you, and then walk at least two miles before you call a cab. Capisce?”

I glanced at Louie before murmuring, “Yes, sir.”

Louie smirked. “That’s a good little bitch.”

“If you get stopped by the cops, you don’t know shit,” Joey warned. “You found the car on the side of the road with the keys in it, and if they find the drugs, tell ‘em you smuggled the balloons from Peru yourself. Capisce?”

“Y-y-yes, s-s-sir,” I replied through chattering teeth.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Red-and-blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror and my life flashed in front of my eyes.

I pulled over with the sound of a thousand bees buzzing my brain. Through the side mirror, I saw a muscular cop approaching from the driver’s side while his thinner partner waited nearby with his hand on his holster.

The drone in my head got louder.

“Both hands on the wheel!” the brawny officer screamed.

I complied, wondering whether my love for Dawn had finally pushed me too far. Throughout my marriage, I’d been disrespected, exploited, cuckolded and worse — but this was a whole new ballgame. I was certain I was headed to the hoosgow, and I couldn’t shake the scary vision of some sweaty inmate forcing me to suck his cock while wearing Daisy Duke dungaree shorts and Kool Aid for makeup. Suddenly, the idea of being treated like a sissy slave didn’t seem so erotic anymore.

My thoughts were interrupted by the big cop tapping the car door with his flashlight.

“Good evening, sir, do you know why we stopped you?”

“No,” I lied.

“Where did you get this car, sir?”

My conscience screamed at me to tell the truth. Instead, I followed Joey’s orders: “I found it on the side of the road with the keys in it.”

“Well, the plate comes back as stolen,” the officer said. “Please get out of the car, sir, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

I obeyed. The officer whipped out his cuffs.

“You’re under arrest for grand theft auto,” he announced as he tethered my hands behind my back and began patting me down. “Now, before the dog gets here, do you have anything on you or in the car that we should know about? Weapons? Drugs?”

“I want to talk to my lawyer,” I replied in a robot voice.

“You can call your lawyer when we get to the precinct. Until then, is there anything you have on you we should know about?”

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

“Okay, sir, have a seat right there on the sidewalk and we’ll wait until the dog unit gets here.”

Having my hands cuffed behind my back made it difficult to sit, and the only position I was able to settle into was extremely uncomfortable. I squirmed on the curb with my shoulders aching and my soul in the gutter until the K9 squad arrived.

As soon as the German Shepard got close to me, he started barking his head off while pawing at the back of my pants.

The skinny cop scoffed. “Looks like we got us a balloon boy. The only question now is: does he have cocaine or heroin up his ass? I guess we’ll find out soon.”

I knew they were on to me, and wondered whether fessing up might help my cause — a thought that lasted all of two seconds. After imagining how crushed Dawn would be if I did anything to put the love of her life back behind bars, and what the mob would probably do to me if I ran my mouth, I vowed to invoke my right to remain silent, no matter what.

The two cops who’d stopped me chatted with the K9 officer for a few minutes before the latter put his dog in his wagon and drove away. The arresting officers strolled to my spot on the sidewalk.

“We’re gonna get a warrant to pull those balloons out of your ass, you know that, right?” the muscular cop advised. “The dog hitting on you gives us probable cause.”

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

The skinny officer leaned in close, his face almost touching mine. “Come on, Tim — just tell us who gave you the drugs and we’ll go easy on you. If not, I can promise you’re going to prison for a long time. A LOOOOONG time. We got you dead to rights, and I’m guessing whoever gave you those drugs wouldn’t be putting balloons up your ass unless you had some serious product on you.”

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

“You’re looking at several years, Tim,” the muscular cop said. “But all you gotta do is tell us where you got it, and we’ll let you go right now. You can walk right out of here, no questions asked. We don’t want you, Tim — we’re after the big guys. If you want to be stupid, and not cooperate, I guarantee you’re going to prison.”

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

“Don’t be stupid, Tim,” the thin officer advised. “This is your last chance. We got you by the short ones; you either cooperate with us now, or you can kiss your life goodbye. We won’t give you a second chance with this. It’s now or never.”

“I want to talk to my lawyer.”

The cops exchanged glances. The thinner of the two nodded at his partner, who told me to turn around. I was surprised when he removed my cuffs.

“It’s okay,” he explained. “We’re friends of the family. This was a test. You passed. Congratulations.”

“Keep on going to the stash house like you were,” the skinny cop said. “We’ll follow you to make sure you get there okay.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I nodded dumbly and slogged back to the car.

The cruiser stayed about a hundred yards behind me during the trip to the address Joey had given me. When I arrived at the rundown flat in the shitty part of town, the cops drove away, leaving me alone in the ghetto with a shipment of drugs stuck up my ass.

With a pounding heart, I climbed onto the porch and rapped on the door. A heavyset woman answered with a scowl.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

“Um, Joey sent me?”

“Ah, okay.” She stepped aside and pointed. “The bathroom’s at the top of the stairway on the right.”

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I finally got home at three in the morning after crapping out the balloons, dumping the mob’s burner car on a side street, walking two miles and calling a cab as Joey had instructed.

All the lights in the house were out, and the minute I realized everyone was asleep, I started thinking with the little head.

The balloons had stimulated my prostate gland, which, combined with the adrenaline rush of the day’s events, caused me to feel incredibly horny. Knowing nobody was likely to venture into the garage at such an early hour, I dug through the box containing my girly stuff and donned my camisole and hose.

Thus attired, I jacked off four times, fantasizing about being a sissy maid to Dawn and Louie, before finally putting my frillies back in their hiding place and falling asleep.

The alarm rattled way too soon. I forced myself out of bed, crept into the house to tidy up, and slogged off to work with my mind racing a million miles a minute.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

Louie barged into the garage. Without being told to, I jumped out of bed, where I’d been squirming and worrying since returning home from a long day at the firm.

He approached with a grin.

“Well, well, look who passed the test last night. Ya little fag — I didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“I … er … I appreciate it, sir.” I instantly regretted thanking him for calling me a little fag.

“Uncle Carmine invited us to dinner tonight,” Louie said, his tone growing serious. “You included.”

“Me? Um … w-why?”

“Joey told you why — Aldo needs help with the family’s legal shit. That last stronzo they had, Ray, ran his fucking mouth, and he had himself a little accident. Got put out of commission — permanently. Uncle Carmine ain’t gonna let nobody come to work for him before meeting him first, so he wants you at dinner.”

Fearing a slap, I ventured a question: “I … they want me to be their lawyer?”

“If Uncle Carmine says so, you’ll be reporting to Aldo.” Louie chuckled. “Plus, since you’re such a little bitch who does what he’s told, Joey says that’s gonna come in real handy in a lot of different ways. So, it all works out: The family needs someone to help Aldo, and Uncle Carmine might give me a job if he sees I’ve got my shit together. That means you better not do anything to embarrass me during dinner — capisce?”

“I … er … no, sir.”

“You better not,” Louie snapped. “Now, put on your best suit and get your ass in the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And one more thing — don’t say a fucking word about any of this to the girls. You hear me, bitch?”

“No, sir, I won’t.”

Without answering, he walked away and slammed the garage door.

I sprang into action, fumbling through my suits that hung on a pole in the rear of the garage. I was so excited that I’d been invited into the house, it completely overshadowed any trepidation I felt about possibly being forced to be a mob lawyer.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\

 

I kicked at the living room carpet. It had been weeks since I’d stepped foot into my own house with the family awake, and everything felt strange.

When Dawn and Louie strutted into the room dressed to the nines, I swooned at the sight of my beautiful bride.

She smacked her lips. “Hey, Tim. It’s been a while, huh?”

“I …” After a fearful glance Louie’s way, I replied, “Um, it’s nice to see you again, thanks.”

Jessica and Tammy waltzed in wearing fancy dresses.

“Hey, it’s Tim!” Tammy said, sounding surprised.

Jessie frowned. “Is he coming, too?”

“Yeah, Uncle Carmine says he wants to meet the whole family,” Louie said. “Tim included.”

“Why does your uncle want to meet Tim?” Jessie asked.

“Well, he just wants to know our living situation,” her father explained. “He may be giving me a job, and he just wants to make sure everything’s va bene. That’s the kind of guy he is.”

“What kind of job?” Jessica persisted.

Louie pulled at his collar. “I dunno honey; a job.”

“Is your uncle in the mafia?” Tammy pursed her lips. “Sounds like it.”

Louie grimaced. “Stop asking questions, okay? You girls look pretty. Now, don’t talk about this stuff in front of Uncle Carmine, okay? I ain’t kidding. We don’t talk about family business. Ever. Okay?”

Both daughters nodded.

“Good.” Louie glanced at his watch. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

“There’s not enough room for everyone in the truck, Tiger Bear; we should probably take the Lexus,” Dawn suggested, passing Louie her key — a shocker, since she’d never allowed me to drive her precious SUV, other than to gas it up, even though I’d bought the damn thing.

Jessie glared at me. “Eww, I don’t want to sit next to Tim.”

“Me neither,” Tammy added.

“Well, he isn’t squeezing up front,” Dawn said.

“Make him ride in the storage area behind the backseat,” Jessica offered. “There’s room, if he squinches down.”

“I don’t want his suit getting wrinkled; he needs to impress Uncle Carmine,” Louie said.

I thought I was saved until he added: “Take off the jacket and pants and leave ‘em up front — and then get your ass in the back there. You can get dressed when we’re a few blocks away so nothing gets wrinkled.”

“Y-yes, sir,” I croaked.

My wife and stepdaughters giggled as I stripped to my underwear in the driveway, hiding behind the SUV so nobody would see me from the street.

Louie scoffed. “Look at them bony little legs,” he said. “Not a hair on ‘em.”

“He probably shaves his legs,” Tammy sniffed. “I bet Tim’s a crossdresser.”

My blood ran cold. Once again, she’d hit way too close to home.

It gave me something else to think about during the uncomfortable ride across town, other than the fact that we were about to have dinner with a Mafia boss who would likely have me killed if I didn’t fit into his plans.

 

//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\//\\