Tie on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Love and War

Fri, 08 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1: Introduction

My name is Cornelius Jacobson Livingston; my parents had a warped sense of humor. They had their reasons I guess. My Grandfather’s name was Cornelius and my older brother’s name was Jacob (and he was killed in a farming accident when he was five). I go by CJ, for obvious reasons. I live alone now. When my ex-wife ran off with a dirty biker after only three months of marriage, I basically swore off women for good. When she left me, I suffered through all the expected emotions. I was hurt, angry, lonely, felt betrayed, but mostly I was angry. After everything I did for that woman, I was really angry. So when I heard she was killed in a motorcycle accident, I didn’t shed many tears or feel the sorrow I probably should have felt for the loss of a loved one, even a former loved one. I even snickered to myself and thought she got what she deserved. One thing I will always be thankful for is that she was the one who insisted we each get a million dollar life insurance policy on each other. The policy had a double indemnity clause for an accidental death. I think I can make my insurance disbursement last a long time. That was three years ago. I have not even dated a woman since.

Dirty Laundry, Dirty Slut

Fri, 16 Jan 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Laundry day at our house is nothing less than an exhausting chore. I despise wearing my professional clothes when I get home, so I wear nearly two full outfits each day. I work hard, and I feel I deserve to be comfortable when I get home. However, we pay the price for my comfort on laundry day.

It was a Saturday. Between loads we were straightening things up around the house–dusting, washing dishes, various other chores–and by mid-afternoon things were fairly well in hand. She was folding the last load, and I was working on the closet in the bedroom when I came across an unopened pair of thigh-high stockings.

Widow, Corset, Ropes, Submission

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Part One

I had been a widow for nearly four years when I met Jerry at my niece’s wedding in Middletown, NY. We sat next to each other during the reception and although we didn’t seem to have all that much in common I found myself quickly liking him and did not hesitate to give him my telephone number when it was time to leave.

I had not dated anyone since my husband’s passing (we were married for twenty eight years) but I felt so comfortable with Jerry, and despite the fact that he lives in Middletown, NY and I am in New York City (about an hour and half drive) I did hope he would call.