Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Paradise Lost, Paradise Regained, Part 13

   She sighed and went on:

   "See, I was a dirty girl, but never a slut.  In fact, before I met you,
I knew an orgasm only from hearsay and even after we got married, it took a
while till you managed to get me there.  I don't complain, though, I was
happy and thankful for your gentle way.  I mean, I was twenty-five when we
met and still almost virgin.  True, a lot of guys tried to hit on me, but
they were interested only in my boobs and in humping me.  No talking, no
tenderness, just raw sex.  So somehow from a big fat cow I had turned into
a sex object.

   But I still haven't told you the really important part.  The night
before my fifteenth birthday I had a fight with both Granny and Grandpa and
I run to the distillery to get drunk.  That day I had also suffered the
worst set back ever.  There was a guy, a half-breed like me, who had also
come from Big Apple to live in the country-side.  We had become friends,
although he was strictly against smoking and drinking.  We usually walked
back from school part of the way and well, I got this stupid idea that his
friendliness was a bit more than what it actually was.  He always seemed a
bit shy, so I decided to go for it and kiss him.  He seemed genuinely
disgusted.  I had been stupid enough to smoke a cigarette on the way before
we had reached the path that led to his home.  He got mad at me and called
me names and said he would rather kiss a toilet than my stinky mouth. 
Later I have also found out that, contrary to reality, I had gained a
reputation of being a slut no serious guy would want to date.  Guess I was
just to sassy for those rednecks.

   As I said, I had permission to smoke but my drinking would have freaked
them out.  That night however I took more than few mouthfuls from Grandpa's
big demijohn.  I fell asleep or lost conscience and was gone for a few
hours.  When I woke up I was still drunk and I don't remember much except I
went outside to puke and then I somehow managed to sneak into the house.  I
hardly noticed it had started to rain.

   I woke up again sometime later from the noise of a siren, still dizzy
and with a head the size of a barrel.  I looked out of the window because I
saw a strange light over the grove.  It was soon clear enough the
distillery was on fire.  Suddenly I felt guilty because I might have been
the cause of it.  I had smoked a lot and though normally I did it outside,
that night the rain had forced me to stay inside the shack.  With all the
alcohol fumes, I might well have, in my drunken state, dropped a burning
cigarette and set the place afire.  I was lucky I got out of there,
oblivious of the danger, not even noticing what I had done.

   But the worst was yet to come.  The loss of a few gallons of Moonshine
would have been painful, but no big deal and the equipment wasn't that
difficult to rebuild, so the actual losses would have been tolerable,
hadn't Grandpa have the idiotic idea to go and save what he could.  The big
boiler wasn't empty and exploded, breaking some demijohns and that started
the real big fire.  Grandpa got caught inside by the explosion and had no
chance to escape.

   Can you imagine how I felt?  I couldn't confess to Granny as I was
certain she would throw me out after giving me the spanking of my life. 
Luckily, if that is the proper word, nobody ever found out of my role in
it. Everybody blamed the thunderstorm for the fire.  The shack certainly
wasn't covered by insurance, nor the whiskey or the equipment, but Grandpa
was.

   The insurance agent was, like the Sheriff, o good customer to both
tobacco and whiskey, so Granny at least could collect the insurance money
without questions.  In fact the guy from the insurance company had long
been quite friendly with Granny and they shared their passion for Grandma's
hand-rolled cigarettes and her home-brew tobacco mixtures.  They actually
had a relationship after that, to my knowledge still have, and I'm not sure
it started only after Grandpa's death.  He had been a too frequent guest in
Grandma's house and in retrospect I realized that the guy had often visited
while Grandpa was away to work in the fields or up town.  I can't
positively say I ever noticed them to disappear in the bedroom, but I can't
swear they hadn't.  I grew quite jealous on the guy, who seemed to comfort
Granny a bit too much, but I was too crushed with guilt to show my hatred
of the guy or my disapproval towards Granny.  At least he arranged for
Granny to get the life insurance money fast and in the end it paid for my
college.

   But, to cut a long story short, I decided to cut the crap and become a
good girl.  It was hell, I can tell you.  I sweated like pig, I shook and
puked and all the shit.  That lasted for almost two days.  Of course I
suffered from massive cravings for weeks, bit I somehow didn't care.  I was
guilty and had to punish myself.  Granny was so immersed in her own
mourning, possibly also feeling guilty for whatever had been going on with
that insurance guy, that she never noticed anything strange about me.  It
took her weeks to notice I wasn't smoking any more.

   Well, I lost what little of popularity I had earned as a supplier for
booze and smokes, so I isolated myself further and became a bookworm. 
Reading kept me from thinking and I immersed in fantasy worlds of my own. I
read all of the romantic novels I could lay my hands on.  Whether it was
Jane Austen, Emily Bronte or Barbara Wood, I drank them in with equal
desperation."

   Her narrative had drained her and she leant heavy into me.  I kissed her
on her forehead and stroked her gently.

   "Well, you sure have been through a lot." I said, not knowing what else
to say.

   She just nodded and offered her lips.  I needed no invitation and we got
so hot that we had to go inside, lest somebody saw us.

   After lunch we went back outside, as it was wonderful day, worm but not
hot.

   "You know, I don't get it." Moira said after a while.  "I mean, OK, you
got turned on by my smoking, so far I understand what drove you these days,
but now I'm not smoking and I still can't find the old Georgie.  Not that
I'm complaining, but how come you're not the same person any more?"

   "Well, works for me too, some aliens have abducted my wife and I found
another person in my home who looks like my wife, but she's not the same
person." I answered dryly.

   Moira winched.

   "Err, guess I deserved that, but, ahem, well you know now what happened
to me, but how come you're so different now?  Did you have some adventures
in China, you haven't talked about?  I mean, I'm not in a position to blame
for whatever happened, it's just that you're such good lover out of the
sudden.  I remember times when I almost thought you were gay, or impotent
and look at you now.  I first thought it's because I'm smoking, but then,
last Friday you didn't even know and, err, well..." Moira said, having to
clear her throat a few times.

   "Yeah, well, what can I say?  If you know how things are in China, you
wouldn't ask.  I hardly had time for anything, I mean I never got out of
Beijing and had only Sundays to rest from a seventy hours plus week. 
Besides, even if I'd have had a more relaxed schedule, I'm not into Asian
women, they're all so small and flat-chested.  But even if, the biggest
turn off was that I found Chinese aren't particularly tidy and clean.  Sort
of smelly and messy.  I mean, even if in the personal area, they might wash
and change often enough, there are other cultural peculiarities.  Things
that are highly embarrassing to us, are considered very normal there.  They
burp or fart more or less without being ashamed and they make noises when
they eat.  Not to mention their constant spitting.  So the temptation was
nil and I'm not that kind of guy anyway..."

   "So you've been a saint, though that puzzles me even more, then."

   "You want to know the truth, or at least as far as I understand it
myself?" I asked and she nodded.

   "It's like falling in love once again.  You're a different person now
and even though you might feel the same, you sure don't behave like the
Moira I once knew.  And I don't complain about that either.  There's a
stupid joke about the ideal woman I once heard.  Men want a lady on the
street, a charwoman in the house and a slut in bed, all in person.  But
most men get a slut on the street, a lady in the house and a charwoman in
bed, all in one person.  Well, what shall I say?  I hope you're still a
lady on the streets, at least from now on, but you sure are no lady in bed,
err, well, you know what I mean.  And I don't need you to be a charwoman
anywhere.  We can afford to hire one if we need one."

   "So that's all?  You haven't changed, but I have?" she asked with a
slightly annoyed expression.

   "Oh, err, well, not exactly.  I mean, something else has happened too."

   "WHAT?" she almost shouted.

   "Jealousy." I said quietly.

   "Oh." was her only comment.  I could see I had hurt her, but it was her
own fault after all.

   "Yeah, Oh.  You should've thought better, but then what's done is done
and maybe not all for the worse.  Actually, there's nothing, absolutely
nothing, that can turn a man on more than seeing his wife cheat on him." I
said and had to stop her from protesting by putting a finger over her lips.


   "No, it actually makes sense.  It's the desperate attempt of a cuckold
to impregnate his wife, hoping his sperm would somehow overtake the one of
the intruder.  It's nothing more than an ancient instinct, but it still
works on us males.  Why do you thing swinger clubs are so successful?  I
mean, logically speaking what woman or man would willingly go to a party to
let her or his partner screw others right under his own eyes?  I have no
idea what women get out of it, but that too might have an explanation in
ancient instincts.  I can understand why men do it though, the more so as I
have felt it myself.  And sh, Sweety, don't cry, I'm not saying this to
humiliate you.  I'm just trying to be honest."

   Well, it took us while to cool down after the kiss, but I hadn't said it
all.  The foggy notion of a possible plan seemed to gain in shape.

   "You know, I was mad and hurt like never before in my life, when I
caught you with that guy Friday, but I also got turned on like never
before. I mean, I have always though anal sex to be the most horrible thing
to do and, well, I still feel guilty about doing it, but in a pervert way
it has been the most incredible experience of my life.  So you see, that's
what jealousy does to a man." I said and finished with a loud "Uff".

   Moira looked at me pensively.  She didn't say anything for a while, but
then she kissed me, long and wet.

   "How long do you think it takes for these patches to wear off?  I'm sick
and tired of not being able to smoke." She asked after a while.

   "I guess at least an hour, though you'd better do it over night." I said
eagerly.  My little friend twitched already, though we had just returned
from a hot session of bed-rolling.  She was caving in.  A few days would
have been better to adjust her to higher levels of nicotine, but on the
other hand I couldn't wait to see her smoking again.

   "Oh no, don't tell me I have to wait till tomorrow!" she exclaimed,
sulking.

   "Oh c'mon, I don't want you to get sick.  These patches are dangerous,
you know.  Maybe I should've bought you the chewing gum variety, or the
inhaler.  I've been selfish there, because I wanted to avoid anything that
could, you know, remind me of smoking."

   "Oh, Honey, that's OK.  And I must say you've made your point big time,
so I'd really say we call the whole thing off.  You're a good lover, even
if I don't fuel your, err, fetish thingy.  Frankly, I don't really care
what morphed you into the lover of the century."

   "Well, guess you should be able to tell." I said, even though I knew it
would turn her down, but I just couldn't help it.

   "Ouch, that hurt, you bastard, but I deserve it.  Well, if you must
know, yes you are.  The only guy who has even remotely played in your
league, was, well, Karl.  Sorry for that, but you've asked for it.  The
others didn't matter.  I was too drunk anyway, mostly, to be able to
notice." She said, a little sad but also mad at me for poking in the wound.

   I felt the old hatred against Karl stir again, but then it always takes
too to party.  So I couldn't really blame him alone.  He hadn't imposed
himself on either of the two women that have cuckolded me.  And in both
cases I hadn't been really innocent either, though my fault had not been
treason but failure to satisfy either of them.

   "Look Tweety, I hate to do this, but before you start smoking and send
me reeling again, I'd rather clarify a few things.  I promise I'll close
the case once and for al, but if you don't want me to each night for the
rest of my life, I'd rather know some things about what happened while I
was in China."

   "So what do you want to know?  Do you want to describe in all detail how
I fucked those guys?" she replied, now quite mad.

   I tried to soothe her by kissing her, but she pushed me back, though we
were still sitting one on top of the other, Moira leaning on my chest and
our feet were entangled.

   "Well, I'm not even sure I want to know ALL of it, but please, I must
know some more.  Promise, you won't be sorry for it and I'll let it rest
after that, unless you're willing to tell me more later on." I insisted.

   This softened the tension I felt in her.  She relaxed heavily against my
chest and her hands were all over me once again.  So I went on with my
interrogatory.

   "I'm not really interested in what you did with those guys in detail,
but I still don't get it.  What made you run wild like that?"

   She sighed and said:

   "Well, OK, I was trying to spare your feelings till now, but here it is.
But go get my ciggies first.  I ripped off the plasters a while ago and I'm
feeling the cravings already.  Promise, I'll stub it out immediately if I
don't feel well."

   I complied, though I feared I would get distracted, but seeing Moira
smoke again was too much of a temptation.

   "All right, shoot." I said after having brought her the pack and lit the
cigarette for her.