<em>10:22 P.M. Home of Jack and Mona Matheson</em><br/><br/>Jack made his way upstairs to bed, hoping by some chance that his wife would still be awake and able to "service him" properly. It wasn't likely. The way the days went recently meant that his wife would be in a deep sleep and he would have to venture off to his second home in order to satisfy his needs.<br/><br/>Dinner had been left on the stove, made around 4:30 even though Jack never got home until well after 6:00. There was no cold beer in the fridge and the house was in disarray. For a woman who didn't work and had about two responsibilities he could think of off hand, he couldn't reason what Mona did while he worked to support them.<br/><br/>He had dined on cold dinner and washed it down with warm beer. No doting wife waiting at the door for him. Instead, as he made his way up the stairs to shower, Jack had found his wife already in bed in a nightgown that would've suited a woman twice her age.<br/><br/>What little spark they seemed to have in their marriage had long ago been snuffed out and now all Jack was left with was a shell of his old wife. Making his way up the stairs, Jack poked his head into the bedroom to find the familiar sight of his wife sleeping soundly. Shaking his head, Jack pulled out his keys from the front pocket of his jeans and headed for the front door. If Mona wasn't going to help him, he'd help himself.<br/><br/><em>Fucking Gulch...later that night.</em><br/><br/>There it was before him. Fucking Gulch. Jack's source of refuge from a sexless household. His eyes took in the features of the outside. It looked modest from the outside, but inside it held the secrets only those who frequented it knew about. He considered himself lucky enough to be one of them. His business afforded Jack the opportunity to handle generally hefty sums of cash at all times and he used that money to fund his frequent visits to the Gulch.<br/><br/>Hopping out of his truck, Jack made his way inside. He realized he was a little later than usual tonight which unfortunately meant he might have to wait for service. One thing he was sure of was Bert greeting him when he entered. With Jack's more frequent visits as of late, he felt like Bert was an actual friend. The two always exchanged pleasantries and it seemed that Bert did what he could to make sure that Jack always found the right woman as quickly as possible.<br/><br/>"Good evening, Bert," Jack started but was surprised to see a fresh face at the Gulch who was commanding Bert's attention. Instead or lingering, Jack made his way down to the bar in hopes of finding a woman who was free and for the taking. Wearing a flannel button down shirt and a pair of jeans, he looked more suited for work than he did for play, but because he was in such a hurry to get away from his wife, he hadn't bothered changing.<br/><br/>Unlike many of the patrons of Fucking Gulch, Jack didn't have a favorite or someone he strongly preferred over anyone else. If he wanted to fuck the same woman over and over again, he would just find himself another wife. He liked switching from girl to girl, although he hadn't had his share of everyone just yet. He just needed to get off and whatever woman he was summoned to was going to be the one he would take. He wasn't about to get picky...not after the night he had.<br/><br/>