My name is Beth. I recently moved to the big city from a small town in Iowa. I really don't know anyone here, except for my co-workers at the large company where I'm employed. They are nice, but none of them are what I would call close friends. I soon discovered that a big city can be a lonely place.
I met Dave through a mutual acquaintance, who introduced us at a party. The physical attraction was immediate and mutual. He was tall and very good-looking, with an athletic build. We talked for a while, and after a few drinks, he said he thought I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He asked for my phone number and called me the next day to ask me out.
After a nice dinner, we went to a movie, and then he drove me home. He kissed me at the door, told me he had a wonderful time and then said good-night. I wanted to invite him up to my apartment, but I didn't want him to think I was too easy. On our next date, however, I decided I didn't care what he thought; I just wanted to spend the night with him. I was not a virgin, but I was not very experienced. He was gentle and patient, and it was just wonderful. That night, I fell in love with Dave.
Six months later, Dave asked me to marry him. I was overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of spending the rest of my life with the only man I ever truly loved. My mother, the only family I had, was thrilled with Dave, and Dave's parents were eager to welcome me into the family. Dave's father, Bill, was a friendly giant of a man, who almost squeezed the breath out of me when he hugged me for the first time. Dave's mom, Irene, was nice but rather quiet and reserved, compared to her husband.
When Dave and I got married, I was the happiest girl in the world. He was the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful man I had ever known --- and he was so good in bed. As newlyweds, we enjoyed a very active sex life, and I looked forward to making love every night. On those rare nights when we didn't have sex, I missed it terribly and usually took care of myself to relieve my tension.
Dave worked for a company that made huge tool-making machines for other manufacturers. As one of the engineers who helped design the machines, he often had to travel to service them. Usually, he was gone for two or three days. I hated it, of course, but I was able to cope.
Then one night, he came home and told me that he had to fly to Germany the next day to deal with a major problem an important customer was having with their machines. He would be gone two weeks. Two weeks! I was devastated.
That night, after I helped him pack, we made passionate love for hours, knowing it would have to last us for two weeks. The next morning, we had a quick breakfast and then drove to the airport in silence. I kissed him good-bye and cried all the way home.
**********
The first few days passed slowly. Dave and I talked as often as we could, but I was miserable most of the time. I tried to stay busy and spend more time with the girls I knew at work, but I wasn't very good company. All I could think of was how much I missed Dave.
Then I got a call one night from Dave's mom, Irene. She said she figured I was lonely and asked if I would like to come and spend a few days with her and Bill. I thought it was a good idea, and Dave encouraged me to accept their offer, so I did.
I arrived at his parents' house shortly after work, or "just in time for dinner," as Bill put it. He greeted me at the door with a giant bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. Irene was more reserved but welcoming. She showed me to a small bedroom on the first floor of the house. "This was Dave's room," Irene said.
"How about a drink?" Bill asked in a booming voice. It was pretty clear that both he and Irene had been drinking already. Bill seemed pleasantly buzzed, while Irene was looking bleary-eyed. They both were drinking bourbon.
"Sure, why not?" I answered, trying to sound like the good-time girl I definitely was not.
"What'll it be, sweetie?" Bill asked.
"Bourbon and coke is fine."
"Bourbon and coke it is."
It soon became apparent that Dave’s parents were big drinkers. After dinner, the drinking didn’t stop. As big as he was, Bill held his liquor well. He was loud and jovial, but he was naturally that way. He was just a big, friendly man who liked his bourbon. Irene, on the other hand, became quiet and morose. Bill would nurse his double shot and enjoy it, while Irene would pour twice as much in her glass and drink it twice as fast. Irene was a drunk.
Bill looked embarrassed when Irene passed out at the table, and I was embarrassed for him. He helped her to bed and returned with a sad look on his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “She’s an alcoholic, and won’t let anyone help her. Her sister’s tried, Dave’s tried. God knows I’ve tried. Drinking means everything to her. It’s really sad.”
It was an awkward moment. "I'm sorry, Bill. It must be very hard on you."
He just nodded. We went into the living room and watched TV for a while, and then said good-night.
Sleeping in Dave's bed was comforting to me. I buried my face in his pillow and convinced myself that I could smell Dave's essence. I turned over on my back and held the pillow over my face, as I masturbated until I came.
**********
The next morning, I was up bright and early. By the time I stepped out of the shower and dressed, Bill was in the kitchen.
"Good morning, sweetie," Bill greeted me, handing me a cup of coffee. "Want some breakfast?"
"Oh, no thanks, Bill. I'm not really a breakfast person."