He looked around at the dump he had left his wife in and he couldn't believe how he had managed to survive all those months living like this. Or how t...at bitch who called herself Mrs. Wilson could call this 'home.' The place was a fucking disaster. A squalid, vermin-infested sty.They had laughed at him today. At Suzie's Whorehouse, out on Route 117. When he was living here, he'd been going there every fucking Wednesday for almost a year before he came home to his cold wife. He'd never been. ” She added. I poured a glass for myself and remarked “ “Well it looks like your well stocked” referring to the six bottles of Chardonnay in the refrigerator. As I took the first sip of wine, Beth was putting a large pot on the back lower rack of the dishwasher. As she bent over I could see smooth underside of both her breasts as the shirt fell away from her body.“Your starring again” she said without even looking around.She must have radar I thought. “ I just . . . “ ” Well what do you think. More

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