My Evil (Ex-) Wife — 2

CHAPTER 6

I was up before six, shaved and showered by the time I woke Cathy. She showered while I made a pot of coffee and prepared some fried eggs and bacon for our breakfast. We ate while we discussed our plans for Saturday. “Please don’t be upset if I don’t call between now and then. I have two long days in court on a big class-action suit. We’re suing the manufacturer of some faulty dental implants. Some patients have gotten terrible infections from them and others have fallen out, even been swallowed causing severe trauma to their stomachs or intestines. This is a multi-million dollar suit and I’ll have my work cut out for myself. The manufacturer is a foreign company—Chinese– and they’ll try to claim that the U.S. courts have no jurisdiction. They’ll lose that argument, but it will take a lot of time and effort to get past it.

“Say…ever analyze structures like anchors for construction work. I’d like to have a professional opinion as to the structure of these implants. If I send some over to you will you look at them for me? You will definitely be paid for this work.” We talked about the case for several minutes before I drove her home. In our haste we forgot all about her take-away box from La Strada.

I spent two long and harrowing days in court as I presented the summary of our case to the judge. They would have their chance on Monday. Their motion for dismissal was to nobody’s surprise found to be without merit. The suit would continue.

I picked up Cathy at seven on Saturday morning. Her dad answered the door again. “Good morning, Michael. Come in. Catherine has most of her stuff for tonight all ready to go. Care for a cup of coffee?”

“Thanks, but no. If I drink too much I’ll have to go and I don’t have much of a toilet on the boat. The water’s a bit cold this time of year—too cold for me to jump in and take a leak. Run out of jokes or is it too early for you today?” I handed him Cathy’s box from La Strada.

“I’ve been instructed to keep my mouth shut, Michael. Can you believe it? Bad enough to hear it from Catherine, but Emily has joined the crusade, too. It’s just terrible when a man can’t give a suitor some grief in his own home.” He shook his head, but he was laughing as he did. Cathy walked in and kissed my cheek looking like a dream in short shorts and a sleeveless tank top. Her jutting nipples told me that she had omitted a bra from her wardrobe. I loaded her dress and small suitcase into the SUV and off we went. The apartment was almost en route so we stopped there and hung her dress in the closet rather than have it wrinkle lying in the back of my car.

We drove to a favorite deli for fried egg and bacon sandwiches with coffee and OJ and some sandwiches and sodas for our lunch. We ate in the car before heading out for our bait. On the way I told Cathy, “Open the glove box, will you please, and take out the paper in there. That’s your registration for fishing. You have to enroll in the registry before fishing in New York. Don’t ask me why—it’s free–but it is a rule. Also, the minimum size for fluke is 19 inches so don’t be surprised if we don’t catch anything to bring home. Your dad told me he’d like some if we catch any.”

I pulled into the bait store for two dozen killies, by far the best bait for fluke and some extra hooks. Our next and final stop was the yacht club. I punched in my five-digit code for the locked security gate. We carried our supplies down the dock to my boat—a Grady White 230 center console with twin Honda 150’s. The boat was up on a hydraulic lift. “It’s a lot safer up there, believe me. There’s a big problem with stealing engines and other equipment from boats in the harbor even though we have 24-hour security. Each one of these is worth almost $12,000. I keep the rods and electronics in the locker.” I pointed to the reinforced fiberglass box that was bolted to the dock adjacent to the slip. Once the key was into the control the lift lowered the boat into the water in seconds. I handed Cathy into the boat and it took us less than ten minutes to load everything, including the inflatable PFD’s for each of us. I explained to Cathy that we both needed to wear the life preservers in case of an accident. It was very possible that we could be struck by another boat or even hit a submerged rock. These would inflate automatically as soon as they hit the water. I also told her these were the most comfortable and lightest of the alternatives. The final step was to take two ten pound bags of ice from the dockside cooler for the one on the boat. I signed the ledger with the date and time, informed the yacht club dock master of our projected route and destination and we were ready. The engines started right up and we backed out into the harbor.

We cruised along at a measly 10 mph until we were out into the breakwaters then I opened the engines up and we were on plane in seconds, cruising at more than 40 mph. We were at the shoal in minutes. I netted two killies from the live well and ran the sharp hooks through their lower lips while I explained how we would fish—drift with sinkers on the bottom, lift occasionally to detect additional weight which would indicate that a fish was holding the bait, wait for a few seconds to give the fish the chance to swallow before setting the hook. “Whatever you do, don’t drop the rod and reel over the side. They’re expensive—almost a thousand bucks each.” I chuckled as Cathy nervously took her rod. I explained that we would only fish until around 1:00 in the afternoon. “These fish only bite two hours before or after high tide which is around eleven. After that we’d just be wasting our time. We can go back to the apartment for a short nap and, no, we will not have sex then. After the ballet….” Cathy just smiled and kissed me before returning to the fishing.

“Are we having fun yet,” she asked.

“I’m about to,” I replied. “I can feel something on my line. I dropped it back for a few seconds before lifting again. The third lift told me that the fish was still there. I raised the rod forcefully to drive the sharp hook through the fish’s jaw. My rod bent almost in two—a very good sign. I fought it for almost five minutes as the fish took line against the reel’s drag several times. I grabbed the net as I brought it to the boat. It was a big one, more than twenty inches, for sure. I dropped the net in front of the whopper and scooped it up. It measured 23.5 inches and weighed more than four pounds. “That’s one for your dad,” I commented as I dropped it into the live well. That was our only bite on our first drift. We reeled in and I ran the boat back to the other side of the shoal.

We were just into the drift when Cathy exclaimed, ”Oh…oh…I think my line is stuck.”

“Be careful, it’s probably a fish.” I coached her and she set the hook on the third lift just as I had. She pulled the fish up with no trouble. Of course, it was a short—below legal limit. All the same I netted it and had her hold it for a photo before returning it to the water. After that we were both silent as we concentrated on the fishing. We each caught a few more shorts, but nothing of real interest occurred until what I had declared would be our last drift. By now Cathy knew exactly what to do. She set the hook and watched amazed as her rod bent straight down into the water. The expression on her face was amazing—and funny! I was pretty sure she had a big one so I broke out a fishing belt that could hold the rod’s butt without hurting her abdomen or thigh and give her the leverage she’d need to land a big one.

I have to say; I’ve rarely seen someone work a fish so hard. I coached her and would have taken over if she asked, but she was determined—she was going to land this fish if it killed her. It took almost ten minutes to lift the fish a total of about twenty feet. I first saw it about eight feet down and it was huge. I didn’t think it would fit into the net; I pulled out the gaff. I only use it for really big fish because once you gaff a fish it’s as good as dead. Cathy managed to get it to the boat; I leaned over and pulled up on the gaff’s sharp steel hook. It drove through the fish’s head and I pulled it quickly into the boat. Cathy sank onto a seat exhausted. The fish measured at 25 inches and 8.4 pounds, the biggest fluke I’d ever seen. I dropped it into the live well and went forward to give Cathy a big hug and kiss. I was so proud of her.

I reeled in my line, secured the hooks and we headed back to the harbor. We were stopped en route by the police who wanted to check on our registrations and any fish we had. One of the officers recognized me from the PBA lawsuit and we chatted amiably for several minutes before I pulled the two fish from the live well for their inspection and approval. At the time I felt it was an inconvenience, but it turned out to be a life saver.

I docked the boat, hosed it down and emptied it of rods and electronics. I checked in with the dock master, ran my code through the gate and loaded the fish cooler into the back to my car. We stopped at the bait shop for an official weighing and some photos before proceeding to the apartment. I was surprised to find several police cars waiting there for us.

“Mr. Kelly? Your wife has filed charges of assault and domestic violence against you; says you punched her in the face causing several lacerations and bruises.”

“When did this alleged violence occur?”

“Sometime this morning, according to the report—let’s see…sometime after eight this morning. Her lawyer insisted we arrest you.”

“Okay,” I reached into my wallet pulling out the charge receipts from the deli and bait shop. They showed the transaction times as 8:03 and 8:21 respectfully. I shared them with the officers. “If you check at the yacht club you’ll see that I ran my code through the security gate about ten minutes later. The dock master will also have clocked our departure from the dock. I was stopped on the Sound about one by your harbor patrol officers. One of them recognized me from the PBA lawsuit. Also, Ms. Wilson and I have been together since around seven this morning, returning to the yacht club dock around 1:45. You can check with the dock master who tracks all comings and goings. Kindly note my hands; see any scraped knuckles or swelling? I have no doubt she was punched. It wasn’t me who did it, though.” I explained about the impending divorce and the reasons why. They all agreed she was a fucking bitch. I was allowed to go about my business pending their investigation. I knew how that would turn out. I had to agree—Eileen was being a fucking bitch, not to mention an idiot.

Cathy and I had shown off our catch and now I made short work of filleting them and putting them in the refrigerator for her dad. There was only one thing I liked about this apartment—the bathroom. There was a large Jacuzzi big enough for two and someday maybe…. Today we needed the shower. It, too, was big enough for two. We showered together, sharing and playing with the soap and lemon juice I always used to remove the fishy odor from my hands. I ran the frothy soap up and down Cathy’s tight body and when I spent a little too much time soaping her ass crack she waggled her finger at me, telling me, “Naughty, naughty.” I simply grinned and agreed. I was being very naughty. I had been forced to endure seeing her tight little ass and those long gorgeous legs all day. I had told her “no sex,” but my resistance was almost zero especially after following her naked form from bathroom to bedroom. Her ass slinked and swayed every time she took a step. It was hypnotic.

We climbed into bed naked. I planned to sleep, but Cathy clearly had other ideas. After watching her tight ass and long legs all day I now had the pleasure of watching her in the nude. She climbed all over my body, smothering me with kisses and rubbing her incredibly soft smooth skin over mine. “Not taking no for an answer, eh?”

“Nope. You might as well give in. I’m not going to give you any peace until we’ve made love.”

“Uhh…do I have to? It’s so much work and I’m tired.” I tried to sound serious but I couldn’t keep a straight face. I grabbed her and flipped her over, moving between her legs as we laughed. My hard cock rubbed against her slit as I leaned down for a long sensual kiss. Our tongues dueled and danced in our passion and desire for each other. She pulled my head even closer as our lips mashed against each other. I couldn’t take it any longer. I raised my hips and when I lowered them my rock hard cock slid easily into her wet hot cunt. In seconds I was balls deep into her womanly core.

I pulled back slowly and initiated an easy rhythm, but Cathy wanted more. “Fuck me harder, Michael. Will you do it harder? Faster? Pulease?” She drew it out for emphasis. I rammed my cock into her in response. We moved at a frantic pace for several minutes. I couldn’t tell you how long; time stood still for both of us. There was nothing that mattered other than each other.