This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if it is, it´s not what they would do. (not that you are likely to know them anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I don’t like to get in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion, what are you doing at ASSTR? In other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great! Read on! Have fun! Let me know what you like!

Oh, and I work hard on my writing…so guess what? It’s mine. That’s right boys and girls…it’s copyrighted…so if you want it? Just ask—we’ll talk.

Dryad

Divorced

The papers were signed. It was final.

I was divorced.

It really wasn't a waste of 15 years. I had two beautiful children out of it; learned a lot about myself from the whole experience. Being married to a man who was little more than a child himself;I'd done everything on my own anyway, right down to the sex. I didn't think there was another woman in town that could trash a toy in less than 2 months as I had. The only thing he did was complain and bring home a paycheck.

But now I was free. What a word. Well, I was still responsible for the children, still responsible for everything else I'd always been responsible for. But now, I only had 2 children instead of 3. And God, it was amazing.

I didn't really broadcast it at first. It seemed demeaning in a way. And some thought in the back of my head made me think that getting a divorce was admitting I failed. I couldn't make it work, I'd made a mistake. But the wonderful thing about admitting it is the loss of guilt, the heavy weight that seemed to constantly rest on my shoulders.

It didn't take long for word to get around. It never does. At 35, I still looked under 30. Suddenly, old ex's were calling me up. Just to catch up. And I remembered back. I'd always sworn I wouldn't take someone back who'd dumped me. My attitude was, I'd given everything I had to the relationship and there would be nothing left. But, my older and wiser mind realized we all make mistakes, especially hot and horny teenagers. So with a smile I caught them up. What really touched me though, wasn't the "let-me-get-in-your-pants-now-that-you're-free" tone I sort of expected, but the sincere concern. Concern that had been missing from my marriage. And after the wave of ex's, friends, my male friends, began calling.

With the sudden amazement my magnetic capabilities, I didn't know what I wanted. No, that isn't true. I knew. Even in my teenage imagining of hot and heavy sex, I knew at this point in my life, it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted some respect, some understanding, tenderness. I wanted to be held as I fell asleep. Someone who wasn't afraid to touch or be touched.

And this was hard. Especially with my male friends. They'd all heard my complaints while I was still married. They knew what I wanted, what I needed. And were able to give it; hell, that is why they were my friends. But now--now they were looking at me in a very different way, they wanted the woman they knew. Well, maybe it was always there, but they respected my decision to stay true to my vows, and never weighed me down with the knowledge.

So, then comes the new problem. There were six of them in my group of friends. How to chose? And how to do it without hurting my other friends? Some of these people had been my friend for years.

Actually, it was easy to limit the first few. Tyler, Mike and John were all happily married, even if I could hear the occasional longing in their voices. That left the two Allans (yes there were two) and Martin. They all knew my preferences, could and have comforted me on a bad day, cheer me on a good day. They understood me, my direction, my dreams.

I was afraid. Would I make another mistake? Was I just jumping into the quickest relationship possible? Why was I even considering a new relationship? If it's just the sex, hell, that would be easy. But then, even as a teen, I remembered the feeling of self depreciation for having one night stand after another. Not to mention, that is not exactly what I wanted my children to see.

The nice thing about friends, once she made her choice, they all understood. They were still there, still supportive. And she loved them even more.

Work in Progress

© Dryad ([email protected]) 2002