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But God must have decided to take a hand. The old bitch that had sat on the bench was a County Court judge sitting by a temporary appointment. We walked into the courtroom to find a new judge sitting.I thought nothing of it. She was still a female if quite a bit younger, maybe mid-thirties. Susan's attorney did a good job of presenting her as the poor abused wife seeking to relocate to start a new life away from the uncaring husband. When she finished my attorney was up and ready but the judge waved her off and I was ready to kill someone until the judge ordered my wife to the witness stand.It was the first time in this proceeding that anyone had actually been called to testify about anything. The Judge asked the questions. She deftly demolished by wife's ludicrous charges of abuse and then asked the question that stunted me."Mrs. Fitzmaurice, your daughter, is four years old -- what inoculations has she had?" the judge asked in a sweet innocent tone.Susan had no idea and had to. I tried to keep all of my meetings and dealings with people at these things on a friendly but professional level.That meant that I avoided the display girls with a passion. They were pretty and shiny and all of that but they simply weren't worth my marriage.I still loved Helen deeply after all of these years and I was a firm believer in that old saying, "If you can't be with the one you love ... Keep it in your pants."Besides at 28, I was an old soul, firmly entrenched in the limbo between boyhood and elderly gentleman. I had to act like I had some sense and not get swayed by every pretty face that came along. Just like with cars.Believe it or not I was still in love with my 06 Mustang GT. Even though Ford had slightly changed the body style in 2010, I liked the 05-09 models better. I hated the fact that they'd narrowed the front grill, and angled the rear fascia. It made the car look like it was sticking its ass up for a butt fucking. I did like the sequential tail lights, so I'd.
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”“Why?” she asked. “Tell me!”“No,” I said. “You have to tell me.”Celeste pouted but immediately began lathering her hands.“Come here then,” she said, reaching for my face.“Just a second,” I said. I touched her left nipple gently with my right index finger, kissed her lightly on the mouth, and then ran to the kitchen to get a chair. When I returned with it, I found Celeste admiring herself in the mirror.“Ready?” I asked.“Yes,” she said, rewetting her hands as I sat down.She smoothed her hands over my face, and I closed my eyes. The broad expanse of her fingers trailed over my cheeks. Her fingertips worked my top lip under my nose. She used the backs of her fingers under my chin, and finally, my lower face was covered in soap. She rinsed her hands and picked up the blue razor.“With the grain?” she asked. “Yes.”She began dragging the razor down my face very slowly. “Be careful not to slide it sideways,” I said. “It will cut me.”“I know,” she said. It was then that I realized that she had.

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