Blackstone J.D. Hollyfield ~ Page 2

First things first, I listen to the voicemail that"s been sitting in my inbox since late last night. I know this isn"t gonna be pretty. I press play, and close my eyes, waiting for the bitching to begin.

"Trevor, this is Susan. You know, the one you blew off tonight, you fucking prick! I waited for almost three hours for you. Hope you choke on your own dick, loser!"

Pretty much what I expected to hear. Maybe I should call her back and tell her she should update her fucking photo on her dating site so her future dates know she looks more like a cow than a high school varsity cheerleader. Christ. Then, when I got to the restaurant last night after unwillingly being set up by my ex, perhaps I wouldn"t have walked right out after seeing what a hot mess she was. I don"t know what it is with women and Botox nowadays. The sight of her lips didn"t turn me on. They fucking scared me. The image of her suffocating my poor cock with those gigantic things had me turning around and running south.

This leads me to the second voicemail. The call I missed this morning from Darlene, my ex. I wish that bitch would stop meddling in my life by trying to set me up on blind dates with women who look like lab experiments. I take a deep breath and hit play.

"Trevor, what the fuck" I just got off the phone with Susan and she told me you blew her off last night! She"s a great gal. Gives great head, from what I hear. You need to start dating, Trev. It"s not good for our son to see you always so closed off. Bringing home random girls doesn"t set a good example for him. Anyway, call her. I think she"d be willing to reschedule. Kiki and I give our love. See you Sunday!"

My dick and I both say no thank you to the reschedule. And Kaden, our son, is almost twenty-one and away at college. He"s old enough to mind his own business. If anyone should be worried about our son, it"s her and the way she swapped for the other team.

Yeah, that"s right. Darlene, after twenty-one years of marriage, went through a midlife crisis, took off to Vegas one day, and came home weeks later in love with a stripper. Female stripper. I thought it was just a phase. I let her ride it out"or ride out the chick twenty years younger she was experimenting with. I told myself I would back off while she snapped out of it. I was always so damn busy with work, I could understand. She was just lonely. Needed the affection. I was glad it wasn"t another dude. It was actually hot, I thought. But then, one night, I was drunk as a skunk and came home to them on the couch eating each other out like fucking carnivores. Tried to get in the middle of that, and her lover punched me in the dick while Darlene just cried, telling me she wanted a divorce.

So, while I ended up with a really sore dick and blue balls, they ended up with my house, alimony, and partial custody of our son.

It"s been five years, so my balls have recovered, but I"m not sure my dick has. When your wife leaves you for a woman, you start to wonder what was so wrong with the big guy in the first place. I wasn"t a cheater or a beater. I didn"t verbally abuse her or step out on her. I may have been absent for a lot of our marriage, but that"s what came with being on top. I worked twenty-four hours a day, and she wanted for nothing. Well, apparently, what she wanted was more pussy in her life.

I delete the message knowing I"m not going to call her back. She"ll have enough to say on Sunday when she comes over with the newest design layout for staging the Flanders property, which is soon to be torn down and built into a luxurious mansion, set to match the rest of the houses on the beach.

Don"t let that statement confuse you. Darlene doesn"t work for me. She didn"t work a single day we were married, and damn if she thought to get a job after we divorced. She gave me some, "What would our son think to see his poor mother suffering in the workforce"" sob story bullshit. I told her he would see a woman earning her keep like everyone else in the fucking world. That also fell on deaf ears. Instead, she spends my money like it"s her fucking job, purchasing anything and everything as if the sky"s the limit. I"m pretty sure I just funded her girlfriend"s new boob job. Luckily for me, part of that spending entails buying shit to furnish and decorate each house I purchase"a task I want nothing to do with.


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