A new spark part 2 - Sex Stories

A new spark part 2

... deadly boring. I can’t find a squash game to save my life, in the end I’m resigned to play a round of golf. It’s that or spend time with Veronica and her fuckwit friends. The day does pick up somewhat, when on the back nine, I run into mister Bruce van Hooyten himself. With still no desire in me to hurt this man, we say our friendly hallo’s as we play through. Back at the main building while stowing my clubs I hear, “So Dillon, how did you make out?” It’s Bruce, he’s got balls, I’ll give him that. If I was shtupping someone’s wife, I wouldn’t start up a conversation with the guy. “Not great, 12 over. You?” “About par.” “You must be here more often than I. “I do work in the occasional round.” “How’s Mary?” “Oh, you know her. Practically lives here.” “Sounds like my Veronica.” My Veronica, I don’t even feel that’s true anymore. But the expression on Bruce’s face is fun to watch. “Yes, how is your better half?” ‘Like you don’t already know.’ “She’s fine. You know, work, club, garden. Keeps her busy. We should get together some time, the four of us. Have brunch.” Bruce is now clearly getting uncomfortable and ends the conversation with, “yes, well, I’ll have Mary set something up.” Walking away, I think to myself, “sure you will.” In the main hall, a banquet is setup. The one upside of this place is the food. I load up a plate and see Veronica working the room. She’s in her element here. Gliding from table to table, all smiles and hugs. Most of it is so insincere you can tell ...

... from across the room, none of these people really like each other. I have to get out of this environment. And I don’t just mean for now. All I can do right now, is escape home. I walk over to Veronica and tell her. Initially she’s quite annoyed but when I tell her she’s more than welcome to stay, she cools off a bit and when I mention my conversation with Bruce and the impending brunch plans, she backs off completely. “You want the car or are you going to take a cab?” “I’m already a bit tipsy and plan on getting more so.” With a polite smile I say, “I’ll drive then.” “Would you mind checking on everything for tomorrow?” “Sure, no problem.” “I’ve made a list, it’s on the fridge.” “Got it. Have fun.” I walk away. Tomorrow, her parents come to visit. It’s not that I hate them or they me, but we have nothing in common. He’s a retired banker with one sole hobby, boating. The man can and will, go on and on, about every tidbit of nautical nonsense he’s come across. I’ve tried so hard, to avoid the subject but it’s near impossible. Give the man a question about the weather and you get a sermon about some new weather gizmo he’s installed on his yacht. Veronica’s mother is like her daughter, a country club socialite. The only difference is that their club has a harbor. They’re flying in tomorrow morning and staying until Wednesday. Oh, the Torture. At home I get the list, off the fridge. It’s mostly shopping and getting the house ready for guests. Somewhere toward the end of the afternoon ...