How did I find out that Stacey was cheating?It was a matter of pure chance, although in a small town like ours the chances of them keeping their secret for long weren’t all that great; both Stacey and Grover know too many people to be anonymous. Someone would have seen them before long.Keeping a close eye on our spending had become a habit, to ensure we didn’t over-reach. I’d just happened to be balancing the check-book stubs against the bank statement when I noticed that Stacey’s tuition fee for her Tuesday evening book-keeping class hadn’t increased when she’d started the additional Thursday evening business management module. I looked up the college website, and sure enough, although a second course at the same time was discounted by 40%, it wasn’t free. There was no on-line transaction on the statement, so either Stacey had paid cash, which made no sense, or there was something wrong.Thursday that week, I went over to the college after work, and Stacey’s car wasn’t in the car park. Letting him have a taste of me was afair exchange for the magic he crafted in the basement.A few months later, Lou and I were in a truck stop. He kept meperpetually high and that was fine with me. He left me sitting in abooth while he went off to find a friend of his that we were supposed tomeet. I passed the time by winking, or blowing kisses, at truckerstrying to draw out a smile. Some did, and others just ignored me. Somerolled their eyes. I guess they didn't approve of my attire. The strapsof my lacy purple bra were clearly visible as they emerged from under mystretchy orange tube top. The top of my tiny jean-skirt was denim, likefrom cut-off jeans, but the bottom half was a white-cottony blend ofpleats and ruffles. I had gotten used to wearing thong panties,especially the feeling of my skirt swishing back and forth across mybare ass as I walked. I was happy to be sitting because I wore a set ofbright red platform mules with four-inch heels, and I still wasn't usedto walking in.
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