An Average Descent

The package was on my desk when I came back from lunch. Along with a note to be in Allen's office at 5:30. The contents of the package insured my compliance. Pictures of Allen fucking me in various positions were the lock that chained me to him and to the hell that my life would become over the next year and a half and beyond.

Fucking my two coworkers, who were waiting for me in Allen's office, was actually pleasant compared to the other things I would be forced to do over those 18 months. I will only say that I was the company whore and Allen was my pimp and I hated him almost as much as I hated myself.

I struggled to find a way out and always came up short. It wasn't until I couldn't take the depravity of my actions that the answer to my problems presented itself. When they told me to fuck the geeky looking guy in a conference room full of people I knew I was done. I had never even seen a picture of a penis that size. He just slammed it into me until he was ready to cum, then he jammed it down my throat until I was choking. That was enough.

I found my solution, one that had eluded me for so long. Courage. I told Allen I was done, I didn't care who he showed the pictures to. He just laughed and it was over. I felt like such a fool.

I have to say when I woke up from my nightmare I was surprised at the state of our household. Michael and the kids seemed to be fine without me. Deep down I thought they might be struggling when forced to face life with the kind of neglect I had forced upon them. But it was the exact opposite. It was almost like I wasn't needed at all.

Michael was clearly still on top of his game. He had a new car and new clothes and looked every bit the successful executive. I felt horrible when I realized how long I had been ignoring my family. I decided right then I would rededicate my life to them and do whatever I could to make up for my betrayal.

But there was a distance between us, one that hadn't been there before. I often wondered how long it had been there. Michael never raised his voice to me. We never argued. But he treated me like an unwanted guest. I decided I needed to put on the full court press. I tried to seduce him. Sexy lingerie. Dropping hints. Nothing worked.

He barely touched me.

After a few months, I looked at the state of our marriage. No sex life, no intimacy, no communication. I decided I couldn't live that way. I suggested marriage counseling. Then Michael stopped talking to me. I don't just mean he didn't confide in me. He just stopped talking. Not one word for weeks.

I was at my wits end when my birthday rolled around. I allowed myself to feel a little bit of excitement. I mean, he couldn't ignore me on my birthday. Boy, was I wrong.

I arrived home from work ready to see what my family had planned only to find that the house was empty. The small wrapped box on the dining room table was the only thing out of place. I knew what it was before I even opened it. A few years earlier, I had forgotten Michael's birthday. In a panic I found an inexpensive watch at the store down the street. I had fully intended to make up for my oversight later, but I never got around to it and eventually I forgot all about it. My present had been a mistake but his was calculated.

I was fuming by the time I went to bed. Keeping the children away from me on my birthday was just cruel. I couldn't believe he would do that to me. And the present! That was over the line.

I should have recognized that something was terribly wrong. The symbolism should have been enough. Michael was not an evil person. He was the most gentle, caring and loving man I had ever met. If I had not been so clouded by my anger over that damn present, I might have been able to save my marriage. If I had confessed my sins and begged for forgiveness there may have been hope.

Unfortunately, at that moment I stopped thinking about working on my marriage and started thinking about divorce. I was sad, but determined.

It took me a few weeks to work out all the details with a lawyer. I told her about how Michael had been distant and even cruel. How he was keeping the children away from me. How he had ignored my requests to go to counseling. How he had stopped speaking to me.

My lawyer jumped all over my comments. She told me I would get a nice settlement. We reviewed the filing. I felt I was being fair, but standing up for what I would need to have a reasonable life. All that was left was breaking the bad news.

I stood in silence, in the doorway of the den, watching the man who had once been my husband, my soul mate. He looked like the same man, but he wasn't. Finally, I had enough.

"Michael, I want a divorce."

There was a long silence, but I read no emotion on his face. I thought I saw him smile but he was probably just in shock. He had to be because his response was not what I expected. No yelling, no questions.

"OK."

And that was it. He was served with my divorce petition the very next Friday.

Michael was in a better mood during that weekend. But if he was trying to make up for his recent behavior it was too late. I was in no mood to reconcile. He even said goodbye to me at the door as I left for work on Monday morning. Too little, too late I thought.

I knew there was a big problem when I arrived at the office, but I had no idea what it was. My boss, the president of our company and our corporate lawyer were having a shouting match in the conference room. Fists full of paper were being waved around. I was so busy watching the hysterics, I missed the man waiting for me near my workstation. He startled me when he spoke.

"Jennifer Smith?"

"Yes."

"You are served."

The man handed me a massive envelope, took my picture, and left. I didn't even have a chance to sit down, let alone look at the contents of the envelope. As soon as the man was gone, a security guard and the HR manager were standing in front of me.

"Mrs. Smith, you are being suspended while an investigation is being conducted into allegations of inappropriate workplace conduct. Please gather your personal items and leave the building," she said.

It was humiliating having to pack my things while my coworkers looked on. It was even worse when I was escorted from the building. I had no idea what was going on. I was barely pulling out of the parking lot when my phone rang. It was my lawyer. I didn't even get to say hello before she let me have it. 'Hiding crucial information' and 'making her look like an idiot' were the only phrases that made sense.

I drove home in silence. The house was once again empty when I arrived. I had no idea the hell that I had unleashed until I finally had calmed myself down long enough to remember the envelope. Michael's counter petition was devastating. Almost every one of my extramarital activities had been documented. There was no money. He had spent almost all of our life savings. The word that stung the most: adultery.

I thought that my life couldn't get any worse. Then I tried to call my parents. I needed some support. My father called me a whore and hung up on me. He didn't need to tell me why he thought that. I knew.

I thought the next seven days were the loneliest of my life, years later I would remember them fondly as the good days. Michael had left a note that I found later saying that he had taken the children camping and would be back on Sunday. My oldest friend Rebecca called around 7:00 that first night to check on me. She told me that Michael had sent her a DVD and that I didn't want to know what was on it.

During the next few days, my lawyer detailed the hopelessness of my situation. I had been fired for cause, my company, several company clients and all of my sex partners were being sued. I would lose custody of my children, I was going to lose everything.

At that point I was willing to do anything to make Michael stop all of the lawsuits. I tried to get ready for his return. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop crying. I was a mess when my family returned home. The children brushed past me as if I wasn't even in the room. Michael stepped in a few minutes later, beer in hand, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. I could barely bring myself to speak.

"You'll ruin me."

The pure hatred in his voice destroyed me.

"God, I hope so."

When I tried to bring up our history as husband and wife he called me a whore.

I wasn't even speaking to him at that point. I was just thinking out loud. But Michael went on a tirade that lasted several minutes. Slut. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. Each word tore at me. I was finished. Then he stood up and left the room.

I can honestly say that I didn't give up. I tried to reconnect with Michael. But he wouldn't speak to me. I wondered how Michael and the kids were managing without any money but everything seemed to be OK. I would sometimes secretly watch him drop them off or pick them up at school.

I couldn't find a job and was collecting unemployment. My parents wouldn't speak to me. I needed a place to stay so I started moving from friend to friend, mostly divorced men. No one seemed to want to keep me around for very long. One day things would be fine, the next they would want me gone. I had started seeing a therapist on the advice of my lawyer. She seemed to think that showing some remorse for my behavior and trying to get professional help on my own might do some good in court. I had very little hope.

I was able to work through some things, most of which I have shared with you. But my therapist's best advice came near the end of our sessions. Her advice was to run, far away.

I am not sure why he decided to respond to me. It could have been a phone call or an email or even one the dozens of letters I sent. But for whatever reason, I came home to find a package from Michael waiting for me. I recognized the store's standard gift box right away. The card was addressed to me in a rather vulgar manner. When I saw the giant sex toy and bottle of lube, I knew. He knew almost everything. He really hated me and had a very specific suggestion about how I should best use my time.

I don't know why the realization that he was aware of my voluntary betrayal was so much worse. But it was. I cried. Hard. I was staying with a friend of a friend at the time. A decent guy named Robert. I think he had some designs on making our relationship something more than roommates. When he came into the room to see what was wrong, I could tell he had been drinking. When he saw the package he was furious and was out the door before I could stop him.

I was worried when Robert wasn't home after a few hours. I should have been. The nurses at the hospital were a little sketchy on the details but knew most of the story. Apparently, Robert had gone to confront Michael. Michael had nearly beaten him to death. His face was mangled. He had a concussion, several internal injuries and a shattered left femur. I was horrified. My problems were now infecting the people around me.

I told my therapist the story during my next session. She started asking me question about Michael. I told her everything I knew. He was an only child, no family left. He was orphaned as a young teenager. I spoke of our young love, of his devotion to me and the children. I told him about his actions for the two years he had to have known about my affair and subsequent behavior. And I told her what Michael had done to Robert.

When I was done she looked frightened.

"You should run as far away from here as possible. Leave him alone. Don't call him. Don't write him. Don't let him know where you are. There is no hope of reconciliation. Don't even try. Move on with your life. If you push him, the most likely outcome will be that he will kill you. Your actions have clearly broken a man with a fragile hold on sanity. He has had to endure disappointment upon disappointment for his entire life. He will never forgive you. He will never forget. Run."

And so I did. I ran away from the memory of my perfect life to a shithole college town in Virginia where I found an even shittier job. I did find a man several years later that could tolerate me and ignore my past. The best I can say about him was that he didn't smell and he didn't hit me. There was no love between us, only companionship. I am certain it was part of my punishment.

My children contacted me when they were older, just to say hello and to let me know they were alive and knew I was, too. They never asked to see me or to have any meaningful role in their lives.

Michael, well, he flourished without me. I followed him in the news as much as I could. He always was a superstar in the software industry and he had an extreme amount of wealth to prove it. Nothing much was ever written about his personal life.

I saw him one more time at my daughter's wedding. I was surprised I was invited. He looked fantastic. He looked every bit the man who owned my heart and who I had betrayed. I admit I was a little bit frightened when he approached me for his final gloat.

"For the record...you ruined my life first."

He stared at my puny wedding ring. I wished at that moment that I had never put it on my finger.

"I am glad you found someone. I hope he makes you happy."

And then he was gone.