Bad Luck Ben: Episode V: Good Luck Ben? Not.
By Littlesilverstar, silverstar222b@yahoo.com
Ben thinks his bad luck has finally ended. He's wrong.

I really thought my streak of bad luck was finally over.

My name is Benjamin, but I've given myself a nickname - Bad Luck Ben - because
of the long string of bad luck I've had in my life, most of which involved
getting beaten up and humiliated by girls.

In tenth grade, I was beaten up by a blonde soccer player named Marie because
she didn't like the way I was staring at her athletic, muscular, feminine,
stunning body. To make matters worse, the beating had happened in front of
about half the school. I had been the school laughingstock for months after
that.

Years later, when I was all grown up, I had gotten myself a crummy apartment
and a crummy job as short-order cook at Al's Diner. On one of my days off, I
had gone to the beach and tried to hit on a fit, pretty teenage brunette in a
bikini named Tania. She beat me up badly enough that I had to go to the
hospital, and frightened me from hitting on women for a while.

When I was finally ready to make advances on women again, I shyly and
cautiously began talking to a tall, slender, muscular blonde named Kate. She
seemed friendly at first, emboldening me. Big mistake. She came over to my
house one day, tricked me into doing sexually humiliating things, beat the
crap out of me even worse than Marie and Tania had, and then blackmailed me by
revealing that she had videotaped the whole thing. She took all the valuables
from my apartment and forced me to give most of my paycheck to her, leaving me
just enough to live on.

As if that wasn't enough, not long after that a desperate attempt to hit on a
pretty woman to try to take myself out of my depression resulted in me getting
beaten up yet AGAIN, this time by a muscular brunette named May. It also
resulted in a financial situation that at any other time would have been
minor, but thanks to Kate's blackmail led to me eating dog food for two weeks
until my next paycheck came in.

That was the absolute low point of my life - or so I thought. I was miserable, eating 
the cheapest crap I could find at Wal-Mart even when I wasn't eating dog food,
just barely paying my bills month after month, and knowing I had the threat of
Kate hanging over my head with every step, knowing that any deviation from
this path of misery and she would put that humiliating video on the Internet
for the whole world to see, and probably come back and beat me up even worse
than she had before.

So that was my streak of bad luck. Then, a miracle happened. I was passing by
a newspaper stand and saw a familiar-looking face on the front page, under the
headline "Local Woman Killed in Car Accident." I put fifty cents into the coin
slot to buy a copy, making a mental note to put that down on my budget sheet
later (yes, at that time, my financial situation was so bad that I had had to
cancel my newspaper subscription to save money, and even an extra expense of
fifty cents had to go on my budget). I read the article, heart pounding. Sure enough, 
it was Kate. She had rounded a curve too fast on a rainy evening in one of the 
many high-powered vehicles she had bought with the money from the many men 
she was blackmailing, and had gotten herself into a fatal crash. Though this simply 
meant I would go back to my old life, which was far from glamorous, I was giddy 
with relief. My ass was Kate's no more. My ass was mine again, and though it was 
pale, unattractive, and unathletic, it was freaking MINE.

Then came the second miracle. Now that I had enough money again (oh, I was
still poor, but I wasn't fucking desperate anymore), I could do things like
re-subscribing to the newspaper and all that good shit. I could also go back
to my habit of occasionally buying lottery tickets.

I still remember the moment as if it was yesterday. I checked my numbers,
never dreaming that I would win, what with my bad luck and all, and then...

I had won. I checked the numbers four times to make absolutely sure. I had
done it. I had matched all six numbers. I had won a jackpot of $51 million in
the state lottery.

Oh, there were taxes to be paid on my winnings, of course. And because I chose
a lump sum instead of annual payments, the money was less. But I was still giddy 
with joy. I was set for life.

The first thing I did with my money was to buy a new car, a brand-new black
BMW 7-Series. As soon as I had the new car, I pushed my ancient, rusting old
Ford Escort into a lake. And although I was caught and fined for polluting the
lake, I could easily afford the fine.

After that, I went to Al's Diner, where I worked as a short-order cook, and
told Al, who I had never liked, to take this job and shove it. After quitting,
I moved out of my crummy apartment and bought a large house in an upper-class
neighborhood. I had enough money and time to do whatever I wanted. I had
always wanted to travel, and I began making plans for the first of what I
hoped would be many trips.

I really thought my streak of bad luck was finally over.

One of the natural consequences of winning the lottery is that people keep
coming to you asking for money. People I hadn't seen since high school, people
who had bullied me in high school, came to me as if we were old friends,
asking me for money for this or that. I had a very simple rule for dealing
with those situations - if someone who had respected me when I had been poor
asked for something, I would be generous. If someone who had ignored or abused
me when I had been poor came begging, I would politely tell them exactly where
they could go.

Another consequence was that for the first time in my life, women were
sexually interested in me. Well, to be accurate, they weren't sexually
interested in me, they were just interested in my money, but they were willing
to have sex with me because of it, and to me that was damn good enough.

That was my favorite part of winning the lottery. By far. Sure, the money was
nice. The house was nice. The car was nice. Not having to deal with that damn
grease pit of a diner and fat, hairy, sweaty Al was nice. But having sexual
access to pretty women...it was my dream come true. All those years of
jealousy in high school and college, watching jocks score with girl after girl
while I got nothing...all was redeemed now.

Eventually, I began feeling emotionally lonely. I wanted a wife. I wanted to
settle down, maybe even start a family. Imagine that. Me, Bad Luck Ben, a
family man. I had never thought it possible before. But where to find a good
candidate for a wife? Not among the gold-diggers that were chasing me, that
was for sure.

I was thinking about these things on one of my trips to Las Vegas. I'd been to
Vegas before, in my poor days. Staying in the cheapest rooms in one-star
hotels. Eating at nine-dollar buffets where the food was even tougher and less
edible than the crap at Al's Diner. Looking for three-dollar blackjack tables.
Now, I stayed in suites in five-star hotels. Ate steak and lobster. And
gambled in the high-roller section.

Right now, I was at the roulette wheel. It was three in the morning on a
Tuesday, so the casino was not crowded. At the wheel, it was just me and the
dealer...until I heard soft footsteps on the carpeted floor. I turned.

She was a beautiful woman in a tight, skimpy black dress and knee-high,
high-heeled black boots. Very young, I should call her a girl. She looked
about twenty-one. She had long dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a deep,
even tan. The girl was tall - looking about 5'11" in her heels and 5'8"
without them - and slender, weighing around 130 pounds. Despite her slim
figure, she was muscular and athletic-looking, with sleek, powerful thighs and
toned, defined arms. Her breasts were small, firm, and round - 34B's, though
she wore no bra, and she had a wasp waist and a perfectly proportioned,
muscular, medium-sized ass. Her face, elegant, high-cheekboned, and
model-like, was as lovely as her body. I smiled at her nervously, intimidated
by her beauty and her muscles. She smiled back confidently.

I wondered what her story was. Most women her age couldn't afford to gamble at
the high-roller tables. Was she an heiress? A lottery winner like me?

As if reading my thoughts, she said, "I'm not really rich enough to gamble
regularly at the high roller-tables. But I'm feeling lucky tonight."

She was right next to me now. I looked at her forearms - my favorite female
body part. They were well-muscled and darkly tanned. Although she was a thin
girl, her wrists and forearms were bigger than one would expect, although
still slender enough to be proportionate. They were bigger than mine, though.
She wore a man's watch on her left wrist. It was a little loose on her, but
her wrist was still big enough that it didn't look strange.

I put $5000 on black. She put $1000 on red. The wheel spun.

"Twenty-one red."

She grinned and tossed her long brown hair.

We went several more times, both of us changing and mixing up our bets. Ten
spins later, my wallet was $25,000 lighter, while she had gained $15,000.

"I think I'll call it a night," I said. "Nice playing with you,..."

"Jennifer," she said.

"Nice playing with you, Jennifer. I'm Bad-" Dammit, I had almost done it
again. Somehow, when I introduce myself to pretty girls, I always seem to
accidentally blurt out the silly nickname I've given myself. "I'm Benjamin."

She shook my hand. Her grip was firm and strong. Her forearms were defined and
developed enough that the muscles rippled with the slightest movement of her
arm. My arm could never do that, and I was glad I was wearing long sleeves.

"So, Ben, would you like to grab a drink? I'm buying."

Well, I certainly wasn't going to turn down a drink from a stunning young
woman. And in addition to her beauty, she was also very intriguing. I wanted
to learn more about her.

"Tequila," said Jennifer as we sat down at the bar. I ordered a beer.

"So, Jennifer," I said after our drinks were ready. "What do you do for a
living?"

"I'm a senior in college."

"Really? Most college students can't afford to gamble at the high-roller
tables."

"I know." She leaned in closer to me. "Actually, want to know a secret?"

"Sure."

"That first thousand I put on the roulette wheel, that was the only cash I
brought with me. I was just feeling lucky and maybe, like, you know, a little
drunk already, and, well...I turned a thousand into sixteen thousand."

"Wow, Jennifer. You're very talented."

"Nah, just luck. Roulette is just luck. I have a pretty good poker face,
though. So what's your story, Ben?"

"I...ah, came into some money recently." I didn't want to tell her just yet
that I'd won a lottery jackpot. Obviously she knew I was rich, but I was
hoping that if she thought I wasn't as wealthy as I really was and still liked
me, she would be a good candidate for a long-term relationship.

"So you decided to have some fun with your windfall and come out to Vegas,
huh?" she said. I nodded. She didn't press the issue further, instead changing
the subject to the quality of the hotel.

We chatted for a while about different things. She told me she was majoring in
criminal justice and wanted to join the FBI or Secret Service, and that she
was the starting center fielder on her college softball team. Both of those
facts turned me on, as I loved girls who were athletic and tough and knew
their way around guns and hand-to-hand combat. After about half an hour, we
exchanged room numbers and I went up to bed.

The next day, I was sitting in my suite watching TV when the phone rang. It
was Jennifer, wanting to know if I wanted to hang out with her. Of course I
eagerly accepted. We spent the afternoon at the blackjack and poker tables. I
ended up down another $10,000, but Jennifer nearly doubled her winnings from
the night before and now had a cash pile of $30,000. She was right about her
great poker face. Not only that, but she was excellent at reading other people.

When we were done gambling, we went to dinner at a fancy Italian restaurant. I
insisted on buying, as I figured I was still a lot richer than her. After
that, we went up the Stratosphere tower and enjoyed the view of the sun
setting and the bright lights coming on all over the city.

I found myself growing strongly attracted to Jennifer, not just physically,
but mentally as well. Her personality was strong and assertive, yet feminine
and charming. She somehow managed to project both worldly confidence and
youthful innocence. I knew she had to leave the next morning and was trying to
work up the courage to ask her if she wanted to stay in touch. She solved the
problem for me, offering her phone number and asking for mine, which I eagerly
gave her. The next morning, I arranged and paid for a limo to take her to the 
airport. As she gave me a hug goodbye, I remembered thinking...

I really thought my streak of bad luck was finally over.

Back home, I couldn't stop thinking about her. Her beautiful body and magnetic
personality made me want to be around her all the time. I decided to call her
and ask if I could come visit her at her college in Oregon. She had been the
one asking me out before. Now it was my turn to show her that I could be a man
and take the initiative.

To my great delight and somewhat to my surprise, she accepted. I was thinking
that a girl like her got plenty of dates from college jocks. Maybe she wanted
to try something new. Maybe she wanted an older guy. Maybe she was one of
those cool alpha female chicks who paired well with a beta male partner.

I chartered a small jet to fly me to Oregon (not having to deal with the TSA
was great), then rented a car and checked in at a hotel a few miles away from
the campus. After getting settled, I drove to her dorm. I rang the buzzer and
she let me in, greeting me with a tight hug. I could feel her small, firm breasts 
pressing against me.

She chatted in a bubbly, typical college-girl way as we climbed the stairs,
asking me how my flight had been. From the way she phrased her questions, she
was assuming I had taken a commercial flight and I didn't correct her. I still
wasn't quite ready to let her know how rich I really was.

We reached her room and went in. A pretty girl was sitting on one of the beds,
reading a textbook.

"Ben, this is Haley, my roommate," said Jennifer. "Haley, this is the guy I
told you about."

Haley stood up. She was very pretty, as pretty as Jennifer. At 5'6" and 128
pounds, Haley was a little shorter than Jen and about my height. She had
shoulder-length blonde hair, blue eyes, a deep tan, and an athletic and
muscular but feminine body. Both she and Jen were wearing low-cut jeans and
tight white T-shirts that showed off their six-pack abs and toned arms. As
Haley shook my hand with a strong grip, I noticed that her wrists and
forearms, just like Jen's, were bigger than mine. The muscles in the blonde's
defined forearm rippled as she shook my hand. I learned that Jennifer and
Haley were softball teammates as well as roommates.

Haley said she had more homework to do. Jennifer was all finished with hers,
so she and I went down to the basement fitness center while the blonde
finished her work. In the basement, Jen went over to the mats and did various 
front and side splits, one-arm pushups, and finished her sequence with a cartwheel.

I applauded. "I bet you can do more complicated tumbling moves than that," I said.

She grinned. "Fuck yeah. Tell you what. Haley and I have a softball game
tomorrow. Come watch us and maybe you'll get a chance to see those moves," she
finished mysteriously.

She and I went back upstairs. Haley had finished her homework and the three of
us spent the evening playing video games, listening to music, and just
talking. I felt blissfully happy at this simple pleasure. When I had been a
student, I had never been able to flirt with or even hang out with pretty
girls. In fact, in my four years at college, I had never once set foot in a
girl's dorm room.

I really thought my streak of bad luck was finally over.

My attraction to Jennifer was growing stronger. Jennifer and Haley were both
charming, intelligent, athletic, feminine girls who seemed like they would be
great wives. But Jennifer had something extra - a certain exotic feel, a
dangerous sexuality - that made her irresistible.

The next afternoon, I eagerly sat front row right behind home plate for the
softball game. The visiting team came up to hit and Jen and Haley took their
places on the field alongside their teammates, Jen in center field and Haley
at second base. Jennifer wasted no time showing off her skills. The first
batter hit a long fly ball to center and Jen robbed her of a home run with a
spectacular leaping catch.

When it was the home team's turn to bat, Jen, batting leadoff, showed off her
speed with a great hit just fair to deep right field for a triple. Haley,
batting second, hit a single to drive Jen in and give the home team a quick
1-0 lead.

In the third inning, Jennifer took her next at-bat and showed her power by
blasting a home run over the left-field fence. After touching third base, she
suddenly did a roundoff followed by a series of back handsprings, elegantly
backflipping all the way from third to home as her teammates and the crowd
cheered and I got an erection in my pants. So that was what she had meant by
her special moves at the softball game. I learned from the woman sitting next
to me that Jennifer always did that when she hit a home run. There had been a
runner on first, so the home team was now up 3-0.

In the top of the fourth, a girl on the visiting team launched a three-run
homer over the right field wall to tie the game, but in the bottom of the
sixth Haley hit a nice RBI double to put the home team back up 4-3. College
softball games normally went seven innings, so if the home team could prevent
their opponents from scoring in this next one, they would win. The first girl
up for the visiting team in the top of the seventh walked and advanced to
second on the next batter's sacrifice bunt. She then stole third base.

The next batter hit a fly ball to center field. It looked like the girl on
third would be able to tag up and score on the sacrifice fly, but
unfortunately for her, Jennifer and Haley were in action. Jennifer, after
making the catch, fired a strong and accurate relay throw to Haley, who fired
an equally strong and accurate throw to the girl playing catcher, who tagged
the runner a split second before she could touch home plate. "You're out!"
shouted the umpire. The crowd erupted in cheers. Jennifer and Haley had each
finished the game 2-for-3 with two RBIs each.

After the game, I went back to the hotel to freshen up. I had made plans to
meet Jennifer at an upscale Mexican restaurant for dinner. I'd said I'd pick
her up at her dorm at seven. I got there about 15 minutes early and decided to
take a quick walk. I suddenly noticed a familiar blonde head ahead of me.

"Hey, Haley," I said.

She turned, blonde hair flying. "Oh, hey. Taking Jen out to dinner tonight?"

"Yes. Y'know, if she doesn't mind, you could join us."

"Thanks, but I don't want to wreck your date." She paused. "So are you dating,
or just friends, or what?"

"Well, we haven't really gotten romantic yet. But I'm hoping it goes that way.
I really like her and really want a long-term relationship with her."

Haley looked around nervously. "I don't know if I should be telling you this,
but there's something you should know about Jen."

"What is it?"

"Well, she's...Don't get me wrong, she's a good friend of mine and a cool
roommate. But she has a dark side to her. I've seen her be very ruthless to
her ex-boyfriends."

"Really? Jennifer? Well, thanks for the advice, but I think I'll be okay."

"Just...keep it in mind. Please," said Haley.

"If you say so. Well, gotta go. See you tomorrow."

I should have listened to Haley. That was something I would be telling myself
many times in the future. But then, I was head-over-heels in love with
Jennifer, and rationalized Haley's comments away. Maybe Haley was jealous. And
if Jen was ruthless towards her ex-boyfriends, it must have been because they
were mean to her and deserved it.

I enjoyed the rest of my visit with Jennifer, and was sad when I had to leave.
Before I left, we made plans for her to visit my place during spring break. I
gave her money for airline tickets (first class).

I found that I was consistently lonely and unhappy without Jennifer around.
The effect she had on me was that powerful. We talked on the phone sometimes,
which helped, but I couldn't wait to see her again.

The big day finally arrived. I went to pick Jennifer up from the airport. She
greeted me with a hug and also a kiss this time. On the lips, even. It was
just a quick peck, but still, I was getting places.

I offered to carry her bag. She laughed. "No thanks, I've got it. My arms are
bigger than yours anyway." I was turned on that she noticed.

As we walked out of the terminal and towards the parking garage, I said,
"Jennifer, I have something important to tell you." She stopped and looked at 
me expectantly.

"I'm sure you know that I'm well-off financially, but I think I need to tell
you now just how well-off I really am. I won a lottery jackpot. I won 51
million dollars."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Wow," she said.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to. But I've had so many
gold-diggers who were only interested in my money chasing me. I wanted to see
if a girl could like me based on who I am. Please forgive me."

Jennifer smiled and took my hand. "Hey, it's cool. I like your quiet and shy
personality. I think a guy like you is a good match for an alpha female like
me. And if you're rich it doesn't make a difference to me. Well, okay, maybe a
little difference." She gave an eager, girlish grin. "Do you have a cool car?"

"Black BMW 7-Series."

"Sweet. Can't wait to ride in it." We walked off, holding hands. I was glad
she had taken it so well. And she seemed so down-to-earth. Her personality
seemed the opposite of a gold-digger's.

We had a great time together that week. One incident in particular caused my
trust and respect for her to skyrocket. We were having dinner at a local
sports bar. I had been taking her to lots of fancy restaurants, but that night
she had insisted we go to the sports bar so she could "dress like the tomboy
she was instead of having to put on a dress." Anyway, we were sitting there,
enjoying our chicken wings and French fries and beer and watching the Red Sox
home opener against the Yankees, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Hey, Ben! What's up, man?"

I turned around. I recognized Kevin Bullard, a guy I had gone to high school
with. He had been a bully and I had been one of his favorite targets. Now here
he was, acting as if we were old friends.

"What do you want, Kevin?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"Hey, man, I dented my car and I spent all my disposable income until my next
paycheck comes in. I wanna get it fixed before that because there's this girl
I'm trying to impress. I heard you hit the big jackpot, man, so help an old
buddy out with a few bucks, whaddaya say?"

"Old buddy?" I said, shaking my head in disgust. "You bullied me in high
school. You were never my buddy. You made it a special point to humiliate me
in front of girls."

"Aw, come on, man, that was so long ago. None of that shit should matter now.
Now are you gonna hook me up with some green?"

"Kevin, you had no respect for me when I didn't have money. The answer is no.
Period."

Upon realizing that he wasn't getting any money out of me, Kevin became angry.
He was still a bully. It was in his blood.

"Fuck you," he growled. "You were a wimpy little faggot then, and you're still
one now. You may be richer than me, but I can still beat the crap out of you."
He drew back his fist.

Suddenly, with lightning speed, Jennifer grabbed his arm and twisted it
painfully. "Leave him alone," she said.

He winced, but still sneered at me, "Need a girl to do your fighting, wimp?"

Jennifer punched him in the eye with her free hand, blackening it. "Get out of
here, asshole, unless you want some real pain," she challenged him.

"You cunt." He took a swing at her. She dodged it easily and punched him in
the nose, breaking it. She then stood up and kneed him in the groin. As his
hands flew to his crippled gonads, she headbutted him, knocking him to the
floor. He tried to get up, but she executed a perfect cartwheel, kicking him
with both of her booted feet and knocking him out.

I stared at her, amazed and turned on by her fighting skills. "Wow, Jennifer.
That was amazing. Thanks for saving me."

She had already gone back to her French fries. "No big."

"It was for me, Jen. Where did you learn to fight so well?"

"Remember, I'm a criminal justice major. I've taken several hand-to-hand
combat classes. And gotten A's in all of them." I could definitely believe it.

"Thanks for what you did there. You're such an amazing girl. Beautiful, smart,
ambitious, charming, fashionable..."

She laughed. "Fashionable? I'm wearing dirty jeans and a dirty T-shirt."

"And you look great in them. Plus I think your watch is very fashionable." She
was still wearing that man's watch. "I noticed in Vegas that most of the
prettiest and coolest women are wearing men's watches now."

"Oh, I just wear a man's watch because a big watch makes my wrists look
slimmer and more feminine. I have big arms for a girl."

"You do, but there's nothing unfeminine about you," I said, kissing her on the
cheek. She gave me that charming, devilish smile.

I was extremely content when we left the bar. Here, it seemed, was a woman who
could be trusted to protect me from money-grubbers. If only she lived up to
what I thought she was...

She went back to college and finished her degree, but I felt much closer to
her now. We talked on the phone at least three times a week, and kept in
contact with email and text. After she graduated, we took the next big step by 
having her move in with me. She found a temporary job as a security guard while
looking for more prestigious work.

It was only a few weeks after that that I decided I was going to ask her to
marry me. She seemed like the perfect woman, I felt like I had a deep
connection with her and could trust her, and I wanted to spend the rest of my
life with her. I was so nervous when I showed her the ring and popped the
question, but she came through by saying yes.

Two months later, Jennifer and I were married in a small, intimate ceremony.
Jen said that being the tomboyish, down-to-earth girl she was, she didn't want
a big fancy wedding.

One thing happened during the wedding that should have set alarm bells off in
my head, but didn't because I was so blindly in love with Jennifer. Jen's maid
of honor was Haley, her college roommate who I had met when I had visited
Oregon. Right before the ceremony, Haley came alone to my dressing room.

"Hey, Ben," the pretty blonde said. "I just wanted to tell you that I think
something's wrong here. I've known Jen for years and she's said many times
that she never wants to get married. She likes going from guy to guy and she
says that the idea of a girl 'settling down' is like slavery to her. She's
never gone for older guys, and she's never gone for guys that are..."

"Are what?"

"Well, I don't want to offend you. Guys that are weak and unathletic. She
always goes for big, muscular jocks. All of this seems so strange. Something
just doesn't feel right about this."

"You really think she wants to use me for my money?" I asked. "Haley, I trust
Jennifer with my life. She's protected me from people who do want to use me
for my money."

Oh, if only I'd listened to her...

After the wedding, Jen and I left immediately for our two-week honeymoon on
the beautiful Pacific island of Aitutaki. It was paradise. And the sex with
Jennifer was absolutely fantastic. She was always the dominant one, riding me,
reverse cowgirling me, spanking me, and giving me hand jobs with her muscular
forearms. She made me go down on her many times and I loved it each time. I
quickly forgot about Haley's warnings.

I really thought my streak of bad luck was finally over.

We came home and settled into married life. Because I trusted her so
completely, I thought nothing of it when Jennifer suggested we each get $2
million life insurance policies. And all on my own, without any prompting from
her, I rewrote my will. Previously, my mother would get half of what I owned,
and my nephew and my niece would each get a quarter. Now, Jen would get half,
my mother would get a quarter, and my niece and nephew would each get an
eighth.

It was only a few weeks later when I began to notice the signs. The mysterious
phone calls, the frequent 'work emergencies.' I began to suspect that Jennifer
was cheating on me. I was in denial about it for a long time. After all, I had
started out by trusting her completely. But the evidence kept piling up.
Haley's warnings floated through my mind, but I tried to push them away. I
tried to tell myself that everything was all right.

But other problems came up too. The casual, down-to-earth Jennifer that had so
charmed me when we were dating seemed to have been replaced by a
high-maintenance woman with expensive tastes. She was spending a lot of my
money on clothes, jewelry, and toys like ATVs and boats. And we never ate at
casual places anymore - every time we went out, she insisted I take her
someplace fancy and expensive. Worse, she was growing more distant
emotionally, and our sex was becoming less and less frequent. She was getting
a lot of headaches, or so she said.

I denied it for as long as I could. Even when I decided to hire a private
investigator to spy on my wife, I was still in partial denial, hoping that he
would report to me that everything was fine.

It was not to be. The investigator called me to his office one day and showed
me the videos. My wife, the woman I had fallen in love with, the woman I had
trusted with all my heart, kissing another man. My wife and that man, together
at a restaurant, at a concert, at the beach. My wife and that man, in the back
seat of a car, doing it.

My heart was aching as I drove back home. I found a note on the dining room
table. Jennifer had another 'work emergency' and she would be out late.

I sighed. Well, at least now would be a good time to take care of necessary
business. I rewrote my will to cut Jennifer out of it. I planned to run it by
my lawyer tomorrow. I could also talk with him then about initiating a
divorce. I then headed for the phone to call the insurance company to cancel
the $2 million policy on me.

"Hello?" I said. "This is Benjamin-"

The phone suddenly went dead. At the same time, I heard faint breathing behind
me. A cold chill went down my spine. I turned around. Sure enough, Jennifer
was standing there.

She said nothing, and her beautiful face showed no emotion at all. She simply
swung her fist. The last thing I remembered was noticing that she was wearing
brass knuckles.

* * *

I woke up to feel my jaw in terrible pain from where my wife had punched me. I
tried to move my hand to rub my jaw and discovered that my hands were tied
behind my back, and also that I was completely nude. Looking around, I saw that 
I was in my own basement.

A moan came from my left. I turned and saw my wife on her back on the basement
floor, naked except for a pair of black leather gloves. On top of her was a
big, muscular man, the same man I had seen in the pictures the private
investigator had showed me. The man now fucking my wife also wore only a pair
of black leather gloves. As I watched them screw, I should have felt angry,
but instead I felt my cock stiffening. I hung my head in shame.

The moans of the two lovers grew louder, finally rising to screams as they had
powerful and simultaneous orgasms. They lay there for a few moments, breathing
heavily, then stood up and began cleaning themselves off.

Jennifer suddenly noticed that I was awake. "Well, well, look who's back," she
snickered.

I stared at her. "Why, Jennifer, why?"

She smirked. "Did you really think I was in love with you? Did you really
think you had anything besides your money? I guess in addition to being wimpy,
cowardly, and socially awkward, you're a fucking moron too. You're a pathetic
pussy of a beta male loser and that's all you'll ever be. Having to have sex
with you was the most disgusting thing I've ever had to do in my life. Only
the thought of getting my hands on your millions got me through it. And your
small dick is fucking repulsive." My penis at full erection was only four and
a half inches long. It was one of the many things I was ashamed of.

"You went to all that trouble?" I said.

"Oh, I wasn't planning on doing all this at first. When we first met in Vegas,
I recognized you from when your picture was in the paper when you won the
lottery. Originally I was only planning to fleece a few expensive dinners and
shows out of you. But then you revealed yourself to be a weak little pussy who
was so easy to manipulate and sucker into thinking that I was in love with
you." As she said the word 'love', she spat, showing her disdain for the
concept. "So I decided to see just how far I could take my little charade. I
always thought that sooner or later you'd figure me for a gold-digger and tell
me to get lost. But you're much more of an idiot than I ever thought you could
be." She broke into giggles, unable to contain herself. "I can't believe you
were dumb enough to ask me to marry you! To be honest, I was scared I'd fuck
it up right then and there. I was this close to bursting into laughter when
you got down on one knee."

She went on. "And your fetishes! They're so weird. Well, maybe not if you get
a psychological understanding of them. You have skinny, weak arms like a girl,
so your attraction to girls with big arms is your way of compensating. You're
unathletic, so your attraction to girls who can throw far and do back flips is
your way of compensating. You're a coward and a weakling, so your attraction
to girls who can fight is your way of compensating." I hung my head in shame.
She was right.

I looked back up at her, trying not to cry. Everything I thought I'd had had
just been shattered to pieces. "Just how far did you go? What about that fight
with Kevin at the sports bar? Did you stage that too?"

Jennifer laughed. "That? No, that was real. When that dude was about to hit
you I realized I could get you to trust me more by beating him up and 'saving'
you. Plus, I always enjoy beating people up."

She tossed her long dark brown hair. "The beta male ego is the greatest of his
many weaknesses," she said in a philosophical voice. "Logically, an alpha
female like me should have no interest in a beta male pussy like you except
for your money. You should have figured me for a gold-digger from the
beginning. But your ego made you think that your personality, or, God forbid,
your body was good enough for me." She kissed the man next to her passionately
on the lips. "Only real men are worthy of me," she continued. "Men like him.
This is Jason. Unlike you, he's built like a man. Unlike you, his cock is long
enough to satisfy me. Unlike you, he can actually fight and keep up with me
when I work out or play sports."

The two of them would have made a great couple for a nude magazine, I was
ashamed to admit. Both were darkly tanned with well-muscled bodies. Jason
stood at 6'2" and 225 pounds, with semi-longish black hair. Jennifer, her
5'8", 130-pound figure next to him, looked like the perfect feminine match
with her long dark brown hair and equally defined, although of course much
smaller, muscles.

I still had my erection. Jason noticed and pointed. "Hey, the little queer has a 
hard pecker," he smirked.

Jennifer stared. "Don't tell me that in addition to being a pale skinny wimp
and a coward and a moron, you're a fucking cuckold too! Are you actually
turned on seeing your wife with another man? Damn, how much more pathetic can
you get?" She approached me and I trembled in fear. This woman was supposed to
be my wife, but I was terrified of her. Suddenly, I felt Jennifer's
leather-gloved fist crash into my face. Her speed was so great that I never
saw the punch coming. The impact of the rough leather of her glove opened a
cut on my cheek. She laughed at her dominance over me. My pale, thin, unathletic 
body looked weak and inadequate next to her tanned, muscular, fit one.

Jennifer suddenly did a perfect standing back tuck, landing all 130 pounds of
her solid weight right on my gut. I gasped, unable to breathe, as the air was
knocked out of me. Still, my cock hardened and rose in tribute to the elegance
and beauty of her flip.

"You fucking wanker," growled Jen as she noticed my hard cock pointing straight
up in the air. She kicked me hard in the groin, sending my testicles back up
somewhere into my body and ending my erection. Her legs were so powerful that
even a bare-footed kick from her did devastating damage. I rolled around on
the floor, writhing in agony.

On the other side of the room, Jason grabbed a shotgun that had been lying
against the wall. He tossed it to Jennifer, who caught it neatly. Jason then did a 
tumbling pass across the room, starting with a roundoff, then several whipbacks, 
and finishing with a full twisting layout. Jennifer snickered at me. "That's what a 
real man should be able to do," she said. "It's a lot easier for guys to learn tumbling 
than girls. And still, I can out-tumble most men. I found a good catch in you,
Jason. Finally a man who's actually more athletic and more of a man than I
am." They kissed again, deeply and passionately, really getting into it.

I tried to stand up, thinking that I could escape now. Of course I was wrong.
Jennifer pointed her shotgun upward and fired, blasting the ceiling full of
buckshot. "Get back down, twerp," she snarled. "You're not going anywhere."

Shaking with fear, I obeyed. Jennifer pumped the shotgun one-handed. I was
turned on that a girl was strong enough to do that. I knew that I never could.

"All right, playtime's over. Time to get down to business. I've drawn up a new
will. It leaves everything to me, except for one cent each to your mom, nephew,
and niece so they can't contest it. Jason and one of his prison buddies were the 
witnesses. Don't worry, I got your signature exactly right. I've been practicing a 
lot." Jennifer looked down at me dominantly. "And that means your time on this 
earth has just about expired."

I opened my mouth to beg, but knew it would have no effect. In desperation, I
tried something else. "You'll never get away with it, Jen. You'll be the prime
suspect. If you kill me you'll never get a chance to enjoy the money."

She yawned. "You're starting to bore me, dipshit. Don't you know me by now?
Don't you know I've made a plan? See, wealthy Benjamin and his lovely wife
Jennifer had just returned home one evening from dinner at their favorite
restaurant. A thug, who had read about Benjamin's wealth in the newspaper, was
waiting in ambush, planning to kill them and take all their stuff. He shot
poor Benjamin to death. Then, he decided to rape the lovely Jennifer before
killing her. But Jennifer was well trained in combat. She outfought her
assailant, managed to grab his gun, and killed him in self-defense. It was too
late for poor Benjamin and poor Jennifer was a grieving widow, but at least
she had the great wealth she inherited from Benjamin to console herself. Now
doesn't that make a lovely and believable story?"

"Uh, no," I said. "Where are you going to find someone to play the thug..." I
trailed off as I realized. Jason realized it too, but a second too late.
Before he could move, Jennifer was pointing her shotgun at his chest.

"That's right," she said, grinning wickedly. "A thug named Jason, who was
waiting in ambush with a shotgun. And he just happens to be an ex-con with a
long rap sheet, too. And he was wearing gloves. No reason for that unless
you're a criminal who doesn't want to leave fingerprints, right? How
convenient." Jason paled in fear.

"But I thought..." he began.

"Thought what, cocksucker? That you could trust me? That I *loved* you? Man,
you're as dumb as old Ben here! Don't you get it? I'm a fucking sociopath. I.
Don't. Love. I only use. Ben was only good for his money. You were only good
for sex, and for part of this plan."

"You bitch," snarled Jason. Realizing he was about to die, he had one last
taunt for her. "Oh, by the way, I gave you AIDS. Don't look so shocked, cunt.
What did you expect from a guy who's had anal sex in prison?"

Jen spat in fury and blasted him in the chest with her shotgun. His heart
pulverized by the buckshot, he fell dead, blood pooling everywhere.

She pumped the shotgun (one-handed of course) and aimed it at my head. "Your
turn."

I closed my eyes...

* * *

The shot rang out. That was strange. I shouldn't have been able to hear it. My
brains should have been blown out by the shotgun blast before the sound
reached me. And the shot sounded different, like it hadn't come from the
shotgun. I opened my eyes and gasped in shock. Jennifer lay dead on the floor,
blood flowing from her head - well, what remained of it. Most of it had been 
simply blown off. Well, she wouldn't have to worry about AIDS anymore.

Okay, that was totally a deus ex machina, but come on. I'm the narrator here,
and I can't tell my story if I'm dead.

"What the..." I said to myself and whoever else was there.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It was a girl. She was pretty, with blonde
hair, an athletic body, and a deep tan. I recognized her. It was Haley, Jen's
ex-roommate. Haley was holding a very shiny and large .44 magnum revolver in a
confident two-handed grip, smoke still coming from the barrel.

Haley looked at me. "Are you okay?"

I let out a huge sigh of relief. "I am now, thanks to you. How did you know..."

"Jen and I were best friends for a long time. But I started noticing strange
things about her. I tried to shake them off, but eventually I couldn't deny it
anymore. I had to face the truth. Jen was a sociopath. The last time she and I
saw each other, she had a sneaky look on her face the whole time. I figured
she was up to something big and maybe dangerous. So I began shadowing her.
When she hooked up with that Jason character I did some checking and found out
that he was a convicted felon. I couldn't go to the police because they hadn't
done anything illegal yet. So I just kept watching them. Tonight, Jen brought
Jason into your house for the first time. I felt like I had to follow them in.
So I...well, you know the rest."

Haley untied me and I looked into her deep blue eyes. "Thank you, Haley. You 
saved my life."

She attempted a modest smile. "Well, I was just in the right place at the
right time."

Now if this were a Hollywood movie, this would be the part where we fell in
love and lived happily ever after. Gathering up all of my courage, I said, "So, 
Haley, do you want to..."

Her smile turned to a frown and my heart sank. "To tell you the truth, Ben,
back when we were hanging out in my dorm room and I thought you were basically
normal, if you had asked me out then I probably would have said yes. But after
seeing all your weird fetishes, I just can't. I'm sorry."

But of course, this wasn't a Hollywood movie. "Well, thanks anyway for saving
me," I said, looking down at my feet. At least I still had my millions, right?

Wrong. I was still Bad Luck Ben. After finally getting the incident with
Jennifer and Jason and Haley cleared out, I discovered that before she died,
Jennifer had drained all my millions from my various accounts and presumably
funneled the money into some secret offshore account of hers. It was
untraceable, and the only person who knew where it was was incapable of
talking. My millions were gone forever. Not only that, but she had also
canceled the $2 million life insurance policy on herself, so I wouldn't be
getting jack shit from that either.

Obviously, I had to sell the house. Without my millions in the bank, the
property taxes alone would kill me. At first I thought life wouldn't be so
bad. The house was worth a cool million and I figured I could buy a smaller
house for a few hundred thousand and still have a good pile of cash left over.

After selling the big house, I was temporarily staying in a (fancy) hotel
while I looked for a new house. It was there that I got the next piece of bad
news. Aside from the spending of my money that I knew about, Jennifer had also
apparently been spending my money behind my back, and had run up huge debts in
my name. After finding that out, the first thing I did was curse in
frustration. The second thing I did was immediately check out of the fancy
hotel and check into a Motel 6.

A house now being out of the question, the next morning I went back to my old
landlord and began re-renting the same small, crummy apartment I had had
earlier. Next, I sadly sold my beloved black BMW 7-Series and bought a used,
eight-year-old Toyota Corolla. I didn't dare buy anything newer, as new unpaid
bills from Jennifer's spending spree kept popping up. At least this car was
nicer than the ancient, rusting old Ford Escort that I had pushed into a lake.

As I paid bill after bill and counted my dwindling cash reserves, I knew that
I would have to find a job soon. I had managed to get some extra cash by
selling Jen's toys like the ATVs and the sailboat, but the bills were
relentless. But finding a job was easier said than done. In college, I had
majored in something utterly useless, so there was no chance of finding
employment from that, and the only job I had ever had was the one at Al's
Diner. I thought back to how I had told Al to "take this job and shove it" and
wished with all my heart that I had been nicer to him, that I had parted with
him on friendly terms, that I hadn't so carelessly burned that bridge. So far,
I've gotten nothing but rejection from potential employers.

Oh, and did I mention that since my wife had sex with AIDS-infected Jason, I
too have to be tested for AIDS? So far the tests have come up negative, but
the doctors say it can take up to a year for an infection to show up. There
are still many months to go. And they've told me not to have any sex until
then. Not that it matters, with the loss of my money I have nothing left to
attract women anyway.

There are days when I wish Haley hadn't saved me.

There are days when I think about ending it all.

There are days when I wonder if I'm ever going to find a job.

There are days when my heart seems to stop as I calculate the amount of a new
unexpected bill against the little money I have left, hoping it won't result
in me not being able to pay rent or having to eat dog food again.

There are days when I think my streak of bad luck will never be over. For this
is me.

This is who I am.

This is who I am destined to be.

I am

BAD LUCK BEN

THE END...for now

Contact me at silverstar222b@yahoo.com if you liked this story!