Chapter 1

 

My name is Russell Grover. Most people call me Russ. My wife of sixteen years is Sharon Grover. Sharon and I got married two weeks after we graduated from high school.

For the first few years it was a hand-to-mouth existence. It was tough going but we were young, in love, and relatively dumb so we didn't know it was tough. We didn't have money for things like going to the movies or going clubbing or things of that nature. We did have each other and we had sex.

Right from the third date, we had sex. Sharon and I fucked everywhere and anytime we had a chance. Sharon loved sex as much or maybe even more than I did and that is saying a lot. We tried everything a man and a woman could possibility do and liked most of it. Sixteen years later, nothing has changed in that regard.

In the sixteen years, Sharon got even prettier and much sexier. She always had a great figure and the years just added to it. There is no way Sharon could ever be considered petite. She is five feet eight inches tall with a fantastic rack, and curves everywhere. My Sharon is one super-hot lady.

As I said, things were hard for a few years. Sharon worked to pay the way for me to go to technical school where I pursued my passion. Computers and computer science, which I had a talent for. After I consumed all the technical school had to offer I went to work for a large company.

I managed to hang in there with that company until Sharon finished nursing school and got her degree then we switched roles again. While she worked to support us I left the giant company where I was just a simple employee and opened my own computer driven company. I designed software for various applications. I was lucky enough to land first in the on-line gaming world. I sold a lot of software to several companies. I was working on a realistic war game that promised to be a biggie.

It came as sort of a surprise to discover how well I was doing. Early on in our marriage we discovered I had little or no talent for handling our money. After that discovery, I let Sharon handle all our finances. She gave me an allowance and demanded I spend no more than she gave me to spend. That was fine with me and I was so preoccupied with my work I didn't notice that my allowance got bigger over time.

One evening I yielded to her insistence that I sit down with her and go over the finances. It was an eye-opener. I had no idea we were doing that well.

"I spoke with Mike Blevins, our accountant this afternoon and..." Sharon said.

"We have an accountant?" I interrupted her.

"Yes we do," she said and continued. "Mike said we need to invest some of this money to shelter if from tax liability." She went on talking about tax things and saying numbers until it all became just noise in my head. I sat, pretended to listen, nodded when she seemed to want an acknowledgement, and tried not to yawn.

"Well, what do you think, Russ?" she said. I almost missed the end of her comments and her question.

"I think you are right," I said guessing at what the answer should be.

"Right about what?" she asked peering at me closely. She suspected I hadn't been paying attention. I was about five seconds from being in big trouble. I took a chance and guessed.

"About the investment," I said hoping I was somewhere close to the subject. "I think you are right about the investment."

"Which investment?" She asked still giving me close scrutiny. I guessed again.

"All of them," I stabbed.

"Oh, Russ we haven't got anywhere enough money to invest in all of them," she said crossly.

"I mean all of them that you feel is worthwhile," I grabbed at the straw. "I'll leave it up to you to decide."

"Okay," she said nodding and smiling. Hot damn! I escaped with my life. "That's all I wanted to know. I'll tell Mike to go ahead with it." She reached over and ran her hand through my hair. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I told her it wasn't bad at all but little did I know we were about to get into something deep and damned scary. Not right away but soon.

I love working for myself. Aside from having a wonderful boss and no other employees to distract me, I could work the hours I wanted to work. I had a small office in a strip mall a few miles away from our home. It wasn't anything to write home about but it was nice enough for what I wanted. It was a place where I could work without interruptions. It was small but large enough for my workstation, a sofa for when I wanted to stretch out, a couple chairs and a safe.

The safe was where I kept all the hundreds of game software I had invented over the years. Some were bad, some pretty good, and some very good. Over the years I sold several games to Worldwide Games out of Luxemburg. They were not the largest game company in the world but they paid well and they didn't haggle which suited me just fine. Unlike Sharon who could out-haggle an Arab rug merchant, I hate to haggle.

A more-or-less local gaming company, Mall-Rat Games, contacted me almost weekly in an attempt to buy me out. They didn't want just a game or two or even a dozen. They wanted everything I had ever made. Therefore, I wasn't surprised when I opened the mail that morning and found another offer from Mall-Rat. I glanced at it and tossed it in the trash. In the same packet of mail was a hefty check from Worldwide Games that would please Sharon. I put the check in my jacket pocket and the rest of the mail in the trash. It was mostly junk-mail anyway.

I didn't feel creative so I went home. Sharon was working the graveyard shift at the hospital's emergency room. I don't think they encouraged the term graveyard shift. Anyway, she would be waking up soon and I was feeling horny.

I walked in the house and saw a stunned Sharon standing in the kitchen holding a letter. She was still wearing her uniform and she looked bewildered.

"It's gone," she said when she saw me. "It's all gone, Russ."

"What's all gone, honey?" I asked.

"Our money!" she said and started crying. It took the better part of half an hour to get the whole story. The accountant, with Sharon's permission, had invested heavily in some off-the wall, can't miss stock. It had missed and missed badly. All the money in the investment account was long gone. Half a million dollars had vanished like a vapor.

Poor Sharon was devastated and it took all my abilities to get her calmed down. Even after I applied my calming powers, she had to call in sick. She loved emergency room nursing and seldom ever missed work.

"We're broke, Russ," she said the next day. We were at our favorite lunch spot. She had toyed with her meal.

"Not all our money, Sharon," I said. "Just the investment account money. Right? We still have our savings, our retirement account, and money in the checking account."

"No we do not," she said big tears rolling down her cheeks. "I took everything but the checking account money. It's all gone, Russ."

"Not everything," I repeated. I showed her the check for gaming royalties. "This is seed money. We can replace what was lost."

"It will take forever to put that much money back in the retirement account, Russ. We'll have to work until we are both old and gray." She looked like she was about to cry again.

"Maybe not,' I said. "I've had an offer to buy my company. I could sell and we both could retire anytime we wanted to."

"What kind of offer?" she asked. I hadn't bothered to inform Sharon about Mall-Rat's offers. I told her the latest offer.

"Are you kidding me, Russ?' she said loudly. "Are you fucking kidding me? They offered to pay you three million dollars?"

"Not so loud, Sharon," I said. "Yes, they offered me three million. They started a couple years ago and three million is what they are up to now."

"I can't believe that!" she said lowering her voice only slightly. "How come you never told me?"

"Since I didn't want to sell," I said. "It didn't seem important." I could see she was about to unload on me. "If I had sold and if that money was in the investment account we really would be broke, wouldn't we?" That put a damper on her anger. "By the way, how much money did your accountant lose?"

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't ask and he hasn't said. What are you implying, Russ? That Mike Blevins somehow bilked me?"

"No," I said. Until that moment, I hadn't even thought of it but now I was. "It's not an impossibility, is it? Accountants have been known to fuck over their clients from time to time, haven't they?"

Acting on my questions, Sharon called Mike the accountant and discovered he was no longer in business. She went to his office and found it empty. She waited a few days to tell me what she discovered.

"I got screwed and the bastard didn't even kiss me," she complained. "I filed a police report but they seemed to think it was a waste of their time. Mike Blevins, that rotten son of a bitch, is long gone."

We spent some time going over our books. We were not in as bad a shape considering everything. The house was paid for, both cars were paid for, and we both still had income so we wouldn't starve. I spent some time thinking about the offer Mall-Rat had made. Everything about computers has a short shelf life. Changes in the computer world come fast and furious. Programs of a few years ago were useless and worthless now. Think about the inventor of the floppy disk. With that in mind, I opened a dialogue with Mall-Rat.

Sharon and I met with the CEO and chairman of Mall-Rat. The meeting took place at the Shamrock Pub early one afternoon. The man was Paul Howard.

Paul Howard was not your typical computer geek. He was a large black man full of good humor and bullshit. Charming bullshit, but still bullshit. He seemed to know it was Sharon he had to charm and he poured it on. I almost laughed out loud because Sharon lapped it up. It didn't take long before Paul Howard had Sharon eating out of his hand.

I knew that sex with a black man was one of Sharon's fantasies. She confessed it to me before we were even married. Watching interracial sex tapes was one of our favorite pastimes.

"Dare I hope that this meeting may indicate some interest in our proposal?" Paul said laying aside the charming crap for a moment. I nodded and Sharon vibrated. Damn, he had her motor running wide-open. "Wonderful," he said with a big grin. "I'm prepared to sweeten my last offer," he said. "Not much but some."

"To what?" I asked. Sharon needed to be carrying the ball with this shit but she just sat and stared at Paul as if he was food to a starving person.

"Three million five for complete ownership of your assets including royalties to come," he said. "Of course that includes all your patents and copyrights. You must sign a ten year no-compete agreement."

"No," I said.

"No?" What do you mean, no?" he asked looking perplexed.

"I mean no, as in no deal. Thanks for lunch and it was nice to meet you," I added getting up and poking Sharon's shoulder to get her attention.

"Wait a minute," he said alarmed. "No to everything? No to some of it...what the hell do you mean?"

"I don't really want to sell so I guess no to all of it," I answered. "I particularly don't like the idea of selling my royalties and I wouldn't even sign a one year no-complete agreement. Have a nice day."

"What happened?" Sharon asked as we drove home.

"While you went off in your fantasy place I told him to go fly a kite," I said. "What the hell happened to you back there? You completely zoned-out on me."

"Didn't you notice?" she said. "Didn't you smell him?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"He smelled like hot sweaty sex," she said. I took my eyes off the road long enough to look at her. She had a dreamy look about her. I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. All I smelled was some faint scent of after-shave or maybe cologne. I asked her what the hell she was babbling about. She looked at me and shook her head dismissing the subject.

Her fantasy about fucking black men was something we often talked about as foreplay. She told me about the fantasy many years ago but I could always tell it stayed fresh in her mind. Once I told her we should do something about it by making the fantasy a reality.

"No, I couldn't do that, Russ," she said. "It would mess up our life and I wouldn't want that to happen."

"Maybe so," I said on that occasion. "Maybe it would but you sure would look good with me holding your legs open for some big black stud to ram his hard black cock in your cunt."

Since that time, when it came up, I always said something similar and it always made her super hot and produced some great sex for us. We didn't know any black men and the meeting with Paul Howard was as close as she ever got to a black man. The exception, of course, was when one came to the ER for medical help and there ain't nothing sexy about that.

I wondered if Paul Howard was producing some kind of pheromone that only a woman could smell. If so, was it natural or something he put on? Whatever it was it had Sharon in a high state of arousal.

We hardly got into our house before she attacked me. We often did the role reversal thing but this was so different. She threw me down after stripping most of my clothes off and she fucked me. She was the aggressor and all I could do was lie back and enjoy the ride.

When I had cum twice I begged her to give me some recharge time. She ignored my pleas and went down on me. She managed to suck me until I was hard enough to fuck one more time.

Later I left her on the bed watching an old fuck-flick where two black men seriously fucked a white woman. Sharon had her trusty dildo and was fucking herself with it when I staggered out of the room.

I went online to research pheromones and discovered that there are nine million fake pheromone products available on the market. I discovered that some mammals apparently produce something akin to pheromone. Many insects do but humans can't detect their scent. I surfed the web for a while going from one useless site to another. I was about to give up when I found myself on a site that offered some interesting facts or fiction about pheromones.

According to the information on that site it claimed that some male humans naturally gave off pheromones that only certain women had natural receptors for. It also claimed to have isolated and captured the scent and would, for a considerable amount of money, send the scent and the receptors. The receptors came in a small vial and only took a tiny drop to work. The site claimed that a small amount of receptors put anywhere on a woman's skin would do the trick. I marked the site and took a nap to think about it. I used the guest room because Sharon was still busy with her dildo on my bed.