So that was the deal. I was being fucked over by my woman. Oh yeah, fool I had been, snookered I had been, and now about to be divorced from the only ...oman I had ever loved. The coldness of it hurt me more than the thing itself. Nothing. No conversation, no please forgive me buts. Nothing, just a process server, and a moment of horrible hurt frozen forever in time and burned into very fabric of my soul.The interesting thing was, that for the moment, I felt mellow. Kinda like they say some. Or maybe it’s because I’m a man and the sight of those incredible tanned legs did for my judgement. If I’d have spotted her earlier I’d have slowed down to get a longer look. In the rear view mirror I could see the girl’s legs stretching up to tight, denim shorts hugging a perfectly pert bottom. I felt sorry for her, but it’s easier to feel sorry for a girl with legs you want to lick than a bloke with a half-chewed hipster beard and floppy sweatpants, like the one I’d passed further back.I. More

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