My Husband's Daily Divorces!

The loud screech of tires gripped the pavement as Raymond Dennis's car skidded to a halt in the garage. In his eyes burned twin fires, feral and demanding, as he pulled the supple body towards him, wrapping his arms around her slender waist. He leaned in, passionately kissing her lush, red lips.

It was a kiss devoid of tenderness, reflecting the hunger of a beast, relentlessly nipping and biting.

Yet, Alva Mary seemed not to mind. On the contrary, she reveled in it, responding with equal enthusiasm. She parted her lips, her tongue twining with Raymond's. Her hands were not idle either, skillfully unbuttoning his dress shirt.

Feeling her confidence, Raymond pushed her onto the car's dashboard, transitioning from exchanging heated kisses to nipping at her neck.

Her throat released soft, suppressed moans.

Simultaneously, in the heart of the city, a broadcast station stood. Unbeknownst to her, the leaves of the Indian Lilac outside her window had sprouted a fresh, tender green. The biting chill of the previous winter was gone.

Anthea took a sip of her coffee, glancing at her watch. Her show was about to begin.

She was the host of the Morning Welcome program. However, last month, the radio station reassigned her to develop a new segment: Midnight Heart-to-Hearts.

Accustomed to her early bedtime and wake-up, she relied on coffee to stay alert while working. She reviewed the script one last time before entering the recording room. This was a live radio show, combining personal stories with listener interactions. She didn't want any mishaps, however small. A non-script piece of paper caught her attention in her pile of documents.

"DIVORCE PAPERS." The two bolded words leaped out at her. She instinctively took a large gulp of her bitter coffee.

That afternoon, again, Raymond Dennis's lawyer — her husband, in the name — had sent over divorce papers. He was always like that. Even with such a significant matter as filing for divorce, he delegated it to his lawyer. She often wondered if he would have sent a representative to their wedding if the law had permitted it.

Anthea sighed deeply, her gaze drifting out the window. She lost count of the calls she had received from the lawyer. They all carried the same message: Divorce. She could never comprehend why her husband was so hell-bent on divorce. Or perhaps they were a couple in name only, so understanding each other's feelings was a moot point for the incapable.

With his professional and familiar tone, the lawyer would start the conversation: "Is this Mrs. Anthea Nicholas's phone? I am Raymond Dennis's attorney. I am calling to discuss my client's wish for a divorce with Mrs. Anthea here…."

And the conversation would conclude with the divorce papers delivered to her workplace, the radio station. Their marriage of several years had fewer interactions with her husband than with his lawyer.

Right after their wedding, he had used work as an excuse to leave early and return late, under the scrutinizing gaze of their families. Eventually, this pattern morphed into him not coming home at all. Being apart for ten days to two weeks was commonplace.

Before transitioning to her evening shifts, several days had elapsed since she had last seen his face.

In the aftermath, she was preoccupied with familiarizing herself with her newly assumed responsibilities, thus barely noticing his absence. One telling sign was his perennially vacant parking spot in the garage.

"Ms. Anthea, the director instructed me to call you. The show is about to start in a few minutes." the young technician's voice tore her away from her reverie, nudging her back to reality.

Nodding, she set her stone-cold coffee cup on the table and walked towards the recording studio. She slipped on her headphones, adjusted the microphone, and signaled to the technician.

A countdown commenced.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one...

The technician then hit the button for the jingle: "Hello, dear listeners. Welcome to 'Heartfelt Conversations with Anthea,' broadcasted daily at twenty-one forty-five hours on FM 98.8 MHz. I'm Anthea, always here to listen to your innermost thoughts. Holding a warm cup of tea this morning and listening to the weather forecast, I was taken aback by the advent of a new season. I'm curious if my inattentiveness is to blame or if the absence of someone reminds me of the changing seasons. And what about you, dear listeners? Let's connect with our first caller and hear what they wish to share."

Meanwhile, Raymond and Alva were in a car, immersed in each other's embrace. Their movements inadvertently triggered the radio button on the dashboard. They both froze in place, for Anthea's familiar voice filled the car's compact space.

"...I hope that the young lady and her boyfriend will resolve their misunderstanding and not part ways over trivial matters. Dear listeners, finding one another amidst this bustling world is incredible. I hope you always know how to love and cherish those dear to you. Now, let's connect with our next caller. 'Heartfelt Conversations with Anthea' is broadcasted daily on FM 98.8 MHz. I have successfully connected with our next caller. Hello, could you please introduce yourself first.."

An ominous silence swept over them.

Raymond disentangled himself from Alva, sat upright, and adjusted his shirt collar. He grabbed a water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and drank half of it in a single gulp. Any man engaged in an intimate moment with a woman in a car would lose his mood upon accidentally tuning into his wife's live radio show, just as he did.

Alva awkwardly resettled on the passenger seat, cautiously peeking at Raymond, and upon seeing no sign of his anger, she secretly heaved a sigh of relief.

But why should she be blamed? She hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't respect Anthea. Otherwise, he wouldn't be so openly unfaithful time and time again. If she wanted to win him over, making Anthea uncomfortable seemed the way to go.

Having decided, Alva flashed a seductive smile and cooed at him: "Raymond... do you want me to provoke her?"

Raymond squinted at her and asked: "What can you do?"

She took his hand and placed it on her ample chest: "Just feel here, and watch what I can do..."

The taste of temptation was so irresistible there was no reason to resist. He complied with her suggestion while watching closely to see what she would do next.