Selling Myself Jeff's ComplaintbyMandy01©
I suggest you read KatieBreckenridge's account of her life as an escort to bring you up on my outcome of her tale.
As always I appreciate the talent of other authors in telling their stories. I'm unsure Katie knew how it would feel to be cheated, spurned, and disrespected. Maybe after Jeff gets through letting her know how it felt, she'll have a different view on the subject.
Don't you just wonder how sometimes it can really be the best time of your life to be fucked, and yet other times it can suck big time. Well right at that moment my life was fucked, and I didn't like it one bit.
Sometimes things just don't quite go the way you plan. Take my business for instance. I'm good at what I do, but for reasons only privy to the gods of fate, I have had a struggle of late to make any difference in life; things just haven't gone my way. We hadn't got to the point of having the wolves at the door; it just seemed with the state of the economy as it is, that business was lagging.
Things were tight across the board, but we were doing ok considering. Hell! We were still able to keep the girls in college, so things can't have been that bad, right? I know it has affected my own attitude as well as that of my wife Katie. This last week only reinforced my belief, that I really had lost control over my life. Well maybe that's not strictly true, I know I can influence minor things in my life, but the thing that really mattered seem to be out of my control.
Back then, I got hit with a double whammy! I just had some test results back from the doctors and they were sitting in front of me on my coffee table.
Cancer? ... Leukemia? You might think, and I somehow wished it was. How about Degenerative Cardio Myopathy? Yeah! That's probably closer to the truth; you see my heart is turning to shit, giving up the ghost. Not fast enough for my liking though. I sat there in my comfortable rocker recliner and I felt just so sick I could hardly breathe.
Why was I so sick? Well I had just been diagnosed with a festering soup of minor STD's, nothing that couldn't be cured by a course of virulent antibiotics mind you, but the ramifications were repulsive just the same.
Now if you have read my wife's account of her extracurricular activities then you probably know what I rambling on about. I have just found out that my wonderful loving and adorable wife is a whore and has been for, from what I can determine, for almost three years now.
This thought is another that has added to my queasy feeling, how on earth can a man live three year with a whore and not know it? Did I have my head that far up my own ass that I couldn't see daylight? The only answer I can come up with that has any means of filling that question is "Yes and Trust!"
I trusted the bitch and she stabbed me in the back, apparently over seventy times by her account. That's apart from the eleven or so regulars that visit her warehouse of whoredom. It makes me feel more like a colander than a beloved husband. How can someone love you and do that to you for three fucking years? If you ask her she'll tell you she does; love me that is; she'll try sugar coating it and calling herself an escort, or a companionship provider. What-a-load-of-fucking-shit!
To bastardize a phrase by Shakespeare 'My apologies kind Sir' "What's in a name? That which we call a rose. By any other name would 'and this is where I use a little poetic licence' is-still-a-fucking-rose." The fucking trollop can use any sugarcoated words she wants to describe her chosen occupation, Escort, Provider of Comfort, Call Girl, or Lady of the Night, what-fucking-ever.
The facts speak for themselves; she fucks for money, she spreads her fucking legs and lets any Tom, Dick and or fucking Harry, and who know maybe even their dogs, as long as they come up with the cash; she lets them stick their cocks in her while getting her jollies and counting her fortune.
Now as you can well imagine, every job has its occupation hazards; STD's are the standard for this industry. The government registered and approved sex workers are regulated for just these health reasons and I dare say, so the establishment can dip their money grubbing fingers into the honey pot as well, from what I can gather. There are many mavericks out there that fly by the seat of their knickers 'If they actually wear them that is?' under the radar, and from what I can work out, Kat is one of them. Once I found out about my health issues, I went looking for any clues to my loving wife's extra job status. Bingo! One very detailed journal with names, dates, financial remunerations and even client preferences and client equipment specifications, all set out in alphabetical order. Right down to a star rating for their performances. Holly Fucking Crap!
I'll let the reader surmise what I'm referring too. I also found the story she posted on the web, detailing her start to this nefarious lifestyle. I have to admit she is a meticulously conscientious little fucker, and that my dear readers will be her undoing. I can abso-fucking-lutely guarantee it.
As bad as all this is, there is one thing that tears me to shreds, and that is, how in the name of Christ, do I tell our daughters what their mother has done to our family? In fact that is now the only true heartache I have.
It was a month after my world crumbled that I was able to get all my ducks lined up, I certainly wasn't idle; no siry bob I wasn't! I was a man on a mission; I had hate and vengeance for inspiration. People don't realise just how close love and hate reside in one's persona; it's quite frightening when it hits you between the eyes. Between my normal out of town business, private investigators, solicitors, law enforcement, and even the tax department, I had managed to keep from getting between my whore wife's legs in any fashion at all.
How did I manage that I hear you ask?
It's called a mild case of Cardio Myopathy! That's right! I fooled that cheating whore cunt of mine; who by the way insisted on being allowed to sleep in the very same bed as me 'The cheek of the woman!' into thinking I had a heart problem, and that the tablets that the doctors had me on seem to bring on a bad case of sexual dysfunction.
That's right folks; the periscope had hydraulic failure. I almost felt sorry for the poor dear; such is life! 'Sarcasm if you missed it.' I have to admit that I had to do some serious web browsing for symptoms and drugs.
Starting from the limp dick syndrome and working back until I had a plausible condition that held water. Remember that the whore was also a health professional by day, so I had to really do some serious homework so that she wouldn't get suspicious.
I have to admit she did try her hardest though, but all I had to do was imagine her with her legs spread and some greasy fat fuck, with sweat rolling off his ruddy face, ploughing into her, and that did it for me. Good night Irene!
After a couple of ineffective efforts on her part, to raise my morale and more important to her it seem; my dick. I persuaded her to leave it be until I was finished my medication. I don't know why she was so distressed at my condition, I mean to say that she wasn't exactly lacking in any sexual way at all. I'm surprised that she had any interest in being with me at all.
However, I'm not completely heartless. I did buy her a dildo, although the look on her face seem to indicate that she was seriously thinking of shoving it somewhere not to my liking, but I managed to placate the festering cum dump and she saw reason, much to my relief.
Something really did make me wonder a bit though. Working in a hospital, you would think the stupid bitch would have kept on top of her health issues. I don't know I have no idea; maybe all that skull fucking has rattled her brain, and numbed what few grey cells she has? It ticked me off a bit to think that I was reduced to lying to the cunt, just so I could stay out of her diseased twat, but lie I did, and I'll make no apologies for it either.
So, how'd it all pan out? Something like this!
I had just got back from my latest trip a day previous, not that the whore knew any of that, she thought I still had a day or two before I returned. I had to be back because the mother of all shit storms was brewing. I was the conductor and it was today that it was going to start to rain shit on the slut's parade.
"Jeff! What are you doing home so early; didn't you say that you'd be back Friday?" She enquired when she noticed me sitting in my chair in the lounge. I'm not sure if she was coming in from job number one or job number two, but she seemed a little nervous and didn't hang around long enough to hear my answer as she scooted up the stairs, whereby I heard the shower running. Probably job number two in that case.
When she came back down, she was rubbing her hair with a towel, "Sweetie! You ok?"
"Fine Kat, just peachy!" She frowned at that, you see the only time I called her Kat, was when I was annoyed with her, every other time it was Katie, or Katelyn when I was neither. "I have some good news and some bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"
"Ohhh god! Please give me the good news, my day has been full of ups and downs, I really need some good news right about now."
"More like ins and outs would have been my guess! But then again if she was on top then it could have been ups and downs?" I thought to myself.
"The doc has taken me off my heart medication, and Mr Willy is firing on all cylinders! He did say at the outset that it wasn't going to last too long."
You would have thought that the damn woman had won the lottery or something the way she squealed. "Ohhh sweetie that is absolutely the best news I've heard in ages. I've been so frustrated not being able to show my man just how much he means to me. I do believe that that is cause for celebration in the bedroom!"
I looked at my watch. "Ummm! Probably not! You see that's where the bad news comes in. You won't have time with all the interviews and meetings and appearances that will be taking up so much of your time."
The stupid whore looked puzzled; she had this stupid grin on her face that just about broke me up. I have to admit that I was being rather vague, and enjoying the hell out of it.
"I don't have anything scheduled that I can remember certainly nothing for the next hour or so!" The wink, wink, say no more expression gave away her intentions.
"Even if we do have time for a five minute quickie, I really have no intention of revisiting the reason for the condition I have been medicated off my brain for, for the last two months!"
Kat, bless her cum filled cunt just stood there trying to work out what I was on about. "You're not making any sense sweetie, I wish you would stop speaking in riddles and come out with it."
"Kat! The medication I was taking wasn't for Cardio Myopathy! It was a batch of antibiotics for a cacophony of rather nasty viruses. Can you imagine just what I thought when the doc accused me of sleeping around on my wife, especially when I know for a fact that there's been only one cunt that I was dipping my wick into!"
Kat just stood there and her face turned sombre. "What are you trying to insinuate?"
"Give it up Kat! You've been hoisted on your own petard sweetheart. I have all the evidence I need to prove you've been fucking around on me."
Kat's face dropped and turned sheet white, then she slumped into her armchair. "Ohhh god no, no, no. It can't be, this is some kind of sick joke?"
I nodded to Kat as she sat there with tears forming in her eyes. "Yes Katelyn, it is a joke. A very sick pathetic joke, and I was the recipient but I survived, now the jokes on you. Will you be able to say the same?"
"It didn't mean anything sweetheart, I didn't love him, it was just sex!" I looked up into her sad wet face and shook my head. She was obviously grasping for straws, anything to divert me from the real truth.
"It was a mistake and only the onetime..." I held up my hand with a sneer pasted across my face.
"Spare me the lies you fucking trollop. If you have no self-respect then atleast have some for me. You've treated me and your family like imbeciles for the last three year or so, you've put my health and maybe that of our daughters in jeopardy. You really need to give up deep throating cock my sweet innocent whore wife; it is affecting your breathing and thus your oxygen supply. Morons like you have very few grey cells to start with, so you need to preserve the ones you do have."
I know I was particularly severe in my tone, the venom dripped from every word I spoke; I just lost my rag and off loaded on her.
Kat blanched at my rhetoric, with all the argument we've had in the past I have never come close to such a callous disregard of her feelings. She just sat there staring at me, physically shaking. "I found your journal, you dump cunt! You're a lowlife whore but I have to admit that you're quite a successful one. I have no idea how you managed to pull it off for so long with your total disregard for the lack of hygiene." With that, Kat threw up all over herself.
I got up and went into the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth and towel, not so much for her benefit, but rather for mine. I had the notion that there was more to be said, and I felt a little queasy looking at her in that state.
Once she had cleaned herself up a little she started, "Please sweetheart, I know we can get past this mistake if we really try. I love you so very much and I know you love me. I did this for us, for the family. Please I'm not a whore, I'm an Escort!"
Now if this was a sitcom then this is the point in the show where the lead character turns to the audience and says, "See! I told you she would say that; didn't I?"
But since it wasn't I had to keep my sarcasm in check, well a little at any rate. "What do Escorts do then Kat?" She started to explain her job specifications, "Shut up fuckwit! It was a rhetorical question. Damn! You have the mental acuity of a five year old. It doesn't matter how you want to title it, it still adds up to the same fucking thing. You fuck for money, you lay on your back and let some scungy halfwit who has no social qualities or means to attract a regular mate, let alone satisfy her, pound away at you festering cunt. You let them get their rocks off in one of your stretched out fuckholes. That's it in a crude nutshell!"
Kat's shoulders sagged as though she had the weight of the world on them, then in a whisper that I strained to hear. "I'll ring Caroline and tell her I'm quitting, then can we sit down and talk this out? I know that if I can get you to understand my thinking, then we can get through this. The money was for our retirement, I didn't ever intend to keep it for myself. You were right, I am good at what I did, we have almost five hundred thousand dollars to put towards our retirement fund."
I scanned my watch once again and shook my head. "No we don't and don't bother calling Caroline; I dare say she already knows your predicament. I doubt that she will really care how much shit you're in, because she'll be dealing with enough of her own."
Kat looked me in the eye and asked the one question that she was probably dreading, "Why? What are you going to do? I have the money; it's in a separate bank account."
"Right now I don't need to do anything. What's done is done, and like your decision to sell yourself and flush our marriage down the toilet, there's no going back. Caroline and her husband will be at the police station as we speak answering charges of pandering and solicitation. If you decide not to run and hide under some rock, then I dare say in the next ten to fifteen minutes, the police will be here and they will take you to see Caroline. Maybe they'll allow you to occupy a cell together, and you can inform her then that you have finally been royally fucked and this time it was your ever faithful husband who was the fucker, but I certainly doubt that you're on their Christmas list for this year, or any other for that matter."
"Ohhh my god no, please don't say that. You have to help me Jeffery; I don't want to go to jail!"
"Well you should have thought of that while those idiots were filling your cunt with STD's for you to bring home to your loving cuckolded husband. You're on your own snookums! I had a devils own job extricating myself from your shit. After the police get through with you, then the tax office will want a piece of your scurvy hide. All your bank accounts have been seized you don't have two dollars to rub together."
At this Katelyn became a little more animated, "Why on earth would you do that? Are you crazy? That's almost half a million dollars of my hard earned money that you have thrown away. I told you it was meant for us, now after all this we have nothing?"
"How on earth were you going to get all that money without me knowing where it came from?"
Kat just looked at the floor. "I don't know, I hadn't thought about it much. I figured that we could have won the lottery or something." The pathetic look on her face told me that even she didn't believe that she could get that one past me.
"To you statement before, not so Kat, you are the only one who has nothing, but the clothes you have on. After you get through with the courts on prostitution charges, and while you're languishing in your not so comfortable cell, I'll have divorced your diseased cunt, and got everything from the marriage. I still have my money and possessions, and once I go after Caroline and her moronic husband, as well as your entire client list in your journal for alienation of affection, I may be able to retire and live the life of Riley."
I think the gravity of her situation had finally clicked in her mind. "You really hate me that much; don't you?" she dropped her gaze to her hands and sighed. "I don't know how you could have done this to me if you ever loved me, maybe you never did? I love you Jeffery, all this has nothing to do with us. I never meant to hurt you, so how could you do it to me?" Why the fuck, do they always say that sort of shit? Tears then started to fall once again.
I almost didn't answer her question but instead retorted. "Don't you fucking say that I didn't love you! It wasn't me screwing around and bringing home venereal diseases to my loving wife. How long would I have to have waited until you brought some more serious disease home to me, like aids and hepatitis C? My god woman! You work in a fucking hospital for god sake. Didn't it not occur to you to get yourself tested regularly?"
Kat shook her head trying to come up with some plausible response. "I couldn't get tested, I'm too well known in the community to have that sort of information get around. It's not like I'm walking the streets, the clients I serviced are normal business men who just want some company for the night. So I just put it out of my mind, and convinced myself that it wouldn't happen to me."
"Did it ever occur to you that one or two of those same business men were probably picking up prostitutes on the streets?" Katelyn just looked at the floor in front of her and said nothing.
"How long could you hope to get away with this charade before someone found out and informed the authorities, and I was dragged into your nightmare just like Caroline's husband? As I said, it took some fancy talking to convince the tax department not to go after my assets. They wanted to do the same thing that the police are doing to Caroline's husband, the police have seized all their combined assets.
I was pacing as my temper rose. "Apparently they have been paying tax, so the Tax Office isn't interested in Caroline and her extra-curricular activities, something I found out that you hadn't bothered doing. But it has come to the attention of the police that Caroline, while paying her taxes, wasn't registered as a sex worker, and their house was an illegal brothel. So the authorities have seized everything they own. You and all your cronies are toast darling, and there's nothing you or I can do about it."