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Tell Me A Story, Desdmona
illustration by garv


By Desdmona

This story contains sexually explicit scenes.

Macy was going to be a movie star. Name in lights. Sequined Dresses. Red carpet strolls. Bobby was going to be an entrepreneur. Stock options. Company meetings at Shea Stadium. A private jet. They were aiming high.

They met in the spring of their aspirations at an all-night diner. Macy was waitressing. Bobby was practicing his schmooze.

“You know all waitresses want to be actresses,” Bobby said.

“And all jerks want to be funny,” was Macy’s reply. It was an easy courtship, driven by mutual ambition.

They married in the summer of their heated lust and called it love. Macy was twenty. Bobby was twenty-six.

She did a commercial and he got a promotion.

“We’re really moving up!” Macy gushed as they lay in bed one night after a patterned fuck. She was home. He was home. It was Tuesday.

“Exactly what we want,” Bobby added before turning over to sleep. See you next Tuesday.

In the autumn of their second year, Bobby became Mr. Robert Lakewood, the papers added starlet in front of Macy’s name, and the calendar never stopped on Tuesday.

“I can’t make it to your opening, I’ve got to be in Boston,” Bobby said.

“It doesn’t matter. I have plenty of escorts,” Macy answered.

In the winter of their realized dreams, their divorce was as amicable as their marriage.

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