Special Dee

"I guess I could have knocked on your window, but I did not wish to startle you and I did not wish to endanger the UAV." He sort of grinned as he said this. I still did not know what he was talking about.

Then I realized what I was seeing on screen. I was looking at ... ME! It was video of me at my desk, speaking toward the direction of my speaker phone in my office at work. I could not hear anything except the hum of the UAV and the noises of traffic and other activities one would expect in a commercial area.

"You took this just outside the window to my office!" I exclaimed. Diz only nodded as I continued to watch.

I was impressed by the quality of the video. Of course, I smiled as I realized that our company would need to pay more attention to the details of our cleaning and building maintenance contract. The window, through which I was looking at myself in the video, from the outside, was noticeably streaked with grime and in desperate need of cleaning. I could not help but chuckle.

Suddenly, the screen's imagery changed to a rainbow-colored mélange of pastels and dark colors. The shapes that had been there before with normal video were now there in outline only. But the colors were strange. It looked like I was in the middle of a weather radar image on The Weather Channel.

"This is the IR view," Diz said before I could even ask. Now that I realized I was watching the video in infrared mode, I understood that the different colors were actually different renderings of heat signatures. The window, since it was in direct sunlight, obviously distorted what was being viewed through it, as it had its own heat signature.

"Diz, this is great," I said with a grin. "I know the wildlife guys will love this when they try to track the herds."

Diz did not say anything to that. He pulled that tablet controller back and activated what looked like another video file. He sighed and held it out for me to see.

This time, the video began in IR mode. From the shapes I was seeing, I could tell that the UAV had been hovering over a parked car with what looked like a driver and one passenger, from the heat signatures. As I watched, the human forms emerged from the car and moved around to the back. Activity on their part was indiscernible, but it could have been reflective of their taking something from the vehicle's trunk.

They moved away from the car and I noticed the angle of the video changed to keep them in sight, but the position of the UAV did not change.

"I had to avoid the tree under which the two of them moved after they removed a blanket from the car's boot." Diz appeared to be getting nervous as he said this. I could notice the creep of the sing-song intonations of the speech pattern of the subcontinent slipping back into his voice.

Diz sighed again as the screen changed from IR mode to video mode. In this manner, I was able to see that the video had been taken in daylight; late morning or early afternoon, from the light levels. The other thing I was able to see was a clear view of my wife, Donna, naked and in the arms of Dean Winston.

Winston had been one of our classmates in high school, and had been well known as a horn dog. He had also been one of the three or four other guys that Donna had been dating when she and I had been maneuvered into marrying because she had been pregnant with Dylan.

Needless to say, I had not been entirely thrilled a year previous to Diz' revelation to learn that Dean Winston, after graduating from Boise State University and working in Seattle for several years, had returned to Vancouver. Not only that, but he now worked for the same company in which Donna was employed -- how's that for disgustingly convenient?

At the point where the Dean and Donna characters on screen were both finally naked, with her on her back on a blanket and him between her thighs and about to do the deed, I turned away and cursed. I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from hitting anything in anger ... or anybody. Diz stopped the video and held the tablet controller close to his chest.

"I am truly sorry, my friend," said Diz. "I was simply trying to see if I could test the following and loitering features on easily recognizable people and objects. Thus, I mainly used you and your wife, so that you could verify how well the systems are working for us. I had no idea when I began that..." Diz let his voice trail off into silence, as I was not really listening at this point.

After about three minutes of silence in the room, disturbed only by the heavy sound of angry air coming out of my nose, I finally spoke.

"Is that the only one you have?" I asked.

Diz hesitated for a few seconds and said, "I have three other instances recorded, but there have been other instances." The silence began again.

After about thirty seconds, I said, "Is it about the same each time?" I really did not want to know, but it was simply something to say at the moment. After all, my thoughts had already turned to those associated with dissolving my marriage.

"No," replied Diz. "It would appear, from the other three videos and from other instances that I observed, that they take long lunch breaks together and drive out to this quiet area just outside of Vancouver. Usually, they remain in his car and..." Here, he simply touched the screen to begin another video.

The brightness and contrast were very different in this video and I commented on it.

"That is because of the rain," said Diz. I nodded. Yeah, it rained quite a bit in the Vancouver-Portland area in the springtime. I could see why they would wish to remain in Dean Winston's car when they had their liaisons.

Hell, I remember hearing Winston bragging about his new car with the oversized panoramic sunroof. Some cars with this feature came with a continuous glass roof; while others came with multiple panels; all intended to expose the entire cockpit to the sun and roll back to open at least part of the cabin to the great outdoors. Some people enjoyed the wind in their hair; others simply enjoyed sitting and gazing at the stars in the evening. Of course, in the rain that occurred here in the Vancouver-Portland area quite frequently, the panoramic sunroof still offered the visibility, but without having to endure rain in the face, or -- in the case of the ladies -- the hair.

Dean Winston's car was a Chrysler 300S with all the bells and whistles, including the dual-pane panoramic sunroof, of which he liked to brag, "Yeah; the ladies like to do it in the luxury of my car while they enjoy the beauty of the sun and stars overhead." I had heard him say this at least twice at work-related parties I had been forced to attend with Donna. I had not heard my wife mention Dean, nor had I seen her do anything at those gatherings that might arouse my suspicion. I guess that the two of them -- my wife and her long-time lover -- had gotten good at disguising the signs of infidelity.

As Diz held the tablet out for me to see the betrayal by my slut of a wife, I saw that the heat signatures revealed the two of them in activities similar to people removing clothing in the front seat of a car. They would kiss frequently as they did this. Finally, I saw the passenger move to the back seat and assume what I would assume was a position on hands and knees. The driver then moved between the front buckets and joined the other person in the back, evidently approaching from the passenger's rear.

The rocking motion of the heat signatures and the telltale motion of the car verified what was happening from that point. They were doing the doggie. I had seen no indication before their move to the back seat of the driver attempting to perform any extra activities around his own groin area; so I assumed that he had not put on a condom -- they were going bareback.

Not only was my cunt of a wife cheating on me, she was putting my health and maybe my life at risk by exposing the both of us to who knows how many sex partners this sonofabitch had had. With his apparent carefree approach to sex, it would not surprise me if he had frequently caught the clap in one or more of its manifestations over his so-called 'adult' life.

"Diz," I said at last. "I will need copies of these videos. And it looks like my soon-to-be ex-wife and I are going to have it out in some manner over her 'extra-curricular' activities, shall we say? I will also need these videos as support when I petition the court for custody of my kids."

Diz nodded and said, "Given her history, are you sure...?" He stopped abruptly, but I knew what he meant. Were the kids even mine? That was something I would need to verify from the standpoint of biology. But it would not matter from the standpoint of love.

My kids were MINE! I did not care who the sperm donor had been. I loved Dylan and Dee-Dee and they loved me. I would NOT give them up without a major fight; and, even after that, I would not rest until I could get them back.

Nevertheless, Diz had a point. "Yeah; I guess I need to get DNA tests; don't I?"

"I am sorry, my friend," Diz said to me with an apologetic look. I nodded to him and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The latest video was still running and I sighed.

"Hey, Diz," I said as my thoughts began to turn angry; even though I kept it out of my voice, I think. "Do you have any true video; I mean non-IR of these instances?"

Diz got his pride expression on as he stopped the current video and popped another on screen. In this one, the view was one of the sexual activity, once again Donna taking her lover in the doggie position in the back seat. This time, it was in full normal video mode, and you could see their heads and faces from behind and slightly above the rear end of Winston's car. It was only a brief few seconds before the view changed back to IR view from directly above the car. I looked at Diz with a question on my face.

"I dropped down and behind the car for a few seconds so that I could get a clear shot," Diz answered. "I could only keep the UAV there for a few seconds, though -- barely long enough to get the clear shot -- before moving out of their field of view. I did not want to alert them to the presence of the UAV and the camera. I mean ... you know that Donna knows about the efforts that you and I have put into this program; and she had seen some of the demonstrations we have conducted out back here. She would recognize the UAV in an instant if she saw it, and also realize that it was possibly capturing imagery."

I had moved beyond my logical thinking about the situation that I had found myself in today when Diz had revealed his secret. I was now moving through the emotional levels. I was hurt on a personal level; but I was also worried for my kids. Mostly, though, I was angry and bitter at the two yay-hoos I saw in the video. My ... loving ... wife ... had not only cheated on me, and placed me in the path of physical harm by allowing Asshole Baby to do her without protection. It was the utter contempt and level of disrespect involved in carrying off this subterfuge of hers that really had me steaming.

Oh, yeah; divorce was one thing.

Revenge was another!

****

I had my lawyer, Myrna Hawk, lined up with paperwork already prepared by the time Diz and I finally carried out my 'Day of Vengeance' -- sounds like a catchy movie title, doesn't it?

I had asked about, and Diz had confirmed, the pattern of the midday trysts of the cheating couple. He informed me that it was always during an extended lunch period on Fridays (Casual Friday dress code rules allowed for their wearing clothing that was easier and faster to get on and off), but also sometimes on Tuesdays, the day of the week with the lightest workload.

I had turned copies of the videos that Diz had already given me -- burned to a DVD-R -- over to Myrna Hawk and had asked her questions necessary for me to determine the best manner in which to have my wife served so that it could be as painful and embarrassing as possible. She informed me that she could have the paperwork en route to any location within 20 miles of Woodland, and even the northern edge of Vancouver itself (where Donna's place of work was located) within an hour, and actually delivered in the hands of the recipient within two hours.

I had printed one still shot of the 'happy couple' at a point where they were going at it in missionary position on the blanket under the trees. I would include that shot in the packet of divorce paperwork. The DVD-R with those videos was only going to remain at Myrna Hawk's office as a precaution.

Meanwhile, I had surreptitiously taken swabs and hair samples from both my kids; the former while they were asleep, and the latter from the hair brush and comb from on top of their respective mirrored dressers.

It only took a couple of weeks for the results to come back; I had given Myrna Hawk's office address as the return address for the results. Therefore, I was in Myrna's small conference room when I discovered that Dylan was, in fact, all mine.

Whew! I guess that Dad and Mr. Swinford had been right in forcing me to marry Donna at the time after all. My hand shook slightly as I reviewed the second set of results.

Deanne was NOT mine ... well, biologically. She would ALWAYS be mine, if I could help it. I had too much love for my baby girl to lose her in the shenanigans that my soon-to-be ex-wife was sure to pull.

The second set of results hardened my heart even more than it had been. This thing with Winston was evidently not the first time she has spread her legs for another dude while she had been married to me. That pussy that was supposed to be mine exclusively was evidently some sort of bus stop for her various lovers -- where they could 'come' and go as she could work out a schedule by which to do so without me finding out about it.

****

The 'Day of Vengeance' had to be chosen carefully; depending on the weather report for the chosen Friday.

It actually took Diz and me four more weeks of waiting patiently -- and of adding to our video repository along the way -- before a suitable day appeared on the horizon.

It was getting into May now, and the weather report for the coming Friday was not only mostly sunny, but the anticipated humidity level was a remarkably low fifteen percent. Most assuredly, if the couple did not get out of the car, they would very likely do the deed in the back seat with the panoramic roof open to the outside. It would all depend on the weather.

But Diz and I were prepared to execute in either case.

"Oh, Glenn, are you sure about this? I mean ...<cough, cough> ... this is just so disgusting," Diz complained. We were busy siphoning the contents of the bucket before us into one of the several special weather balloons that I had found at a military surplus store.

We had practiced the bombing capability of the UAV that we now called Enola Gay. Diz had rigged a burster that used compressed CO2 and we had filled one of the weather balloons with water. Diz had carefully inserted the burster inside the filled balloon before I had sealed it; with the pull-actuator cord extended outside the seal. Around the seal, we had affixed several wraps of cloth tape and had made a loop from the tape as well. This loop would be held by the remotely-activated 'pizza delivery' grappler, for want of a better description, on the underbelly of the Enola Gay UAV. One touch on the tablet controller screen would cause the grappler to release its load on command. When the balloon had fallen far enough to put sufficient tension on the otherwise slack pull-actuator cord, the burster would release the CO2 in a sudden explosion of water -- or whatever the contents of the balloon might be at the time.

I had insisted that we do three trial runs out back with the water balloons. We had done the last two rehearsals in conjunction with the UAV carrying the alternating strobes; the one we now called ET -- referring to the famous movie that had included many flashing lights on the spaceship that had delivered and retrieved the main character in the film.

"You bet your sweet ass, I am sure," I said in answer to Diz' question. "I want them to be 'in the shit' -- quite literally." As I said this, I was pumping more of the obnoxious mixture of piss and shit into the large weather balloon. I had been inspired to take this action when I was out driving around, feeling sorry for myself, and I had stopped at a small pullout that was run by the Washington State Parks and Recreation Commission. The primitive site -- keeping it 'green and pristine' as the tree-huggers up here liked it, I guess -- actually had an equally primitive outhouse instead of a chemical toilet, as most of the more up-to-date sites had. That was when I had smiled in an evil way as the idea had struck me for just how to get my revenge.

I was being careful now to wear surgical gloves while filling the balloon, as was Diz. We had a bucket of bleach and water mix, along with some disinfectant added beside us. Once we were finished filling the balloon, we wanted to seal it thoroughly and hang it from a hook in the garage while we dipped our hands into the cleansing mixture.

It would be hell for Diz and me if, after getting revenge on the cheaters, we came down with hepatitis, or something just as awful in the process.

We also had to make sure that we did not overfill the balloon. The previous water balloon versions had been quite a bit fuller, so that we could ensure we were building in a margin of safety as far as the weight and bulk of the delivery payload for the real thing was concerned.

Now we only had to wait about another hour for Dean Winston and my wife, Donna, to leave work for their weekly Friday mid-day fuck session. I went to my tablet controller and started up ET's engine about ten minutes before the cheaters normally left the building.

After about thirty seconds of warming up, I lifted ET off from within the sheltering copse of trees across the parking lot from the building in which my wife worked. I had practiced with the camera attached under ET using a gimbal suspension; and I had become pretty good at changing the orientation of the camera while moving the platform. As I left ET in hover mode, I practiced with the camera's motion and zoom to ensure that the mount did not stick at an inopportune moment during this; I wanted to be sure to capture all of the excruciatingly embarrassing action. I could not help but marvel at the fact that I was over thirteen miles away from where ET was monitoring my wife's place of work.

Alibi? You betcha!

Sure enough, Donna and Dean came out the door leading to the parking lot; together and right on time. They did not even seem to care what their fellow workers thought about all of this -- I guess that partially explained the 'You poor sucker' looks I had gotten from some of my wife's coworkers at the last couple of work-related gatherings.

"Okay, Diz; we know where they are going. Let's load up Enola Gay," I said to my friend. With that, we carefully removed the filled balloon from the garage hook. We had a spooky moment when I almost lost my grip. But we paused and got our pulse rates back down below about six-hundred-and-fifty and moved the balloon over to where Enola Gay sat.

I let Diz take it from here; he was the expert at attaching the pull-activator for the burster and the suspension mechanism for carrying the payload. I turned back to monitoring ET and moving it into position.

I guess I was so focused on what I was doing that I did not even realize that Enola Gay was on its way until Diz moved to stand beside me with his tablet controller in his hand. We looked at each other and did a fist bump before returning our full attention to the screens before us.

****

The view from above Dean Winston's moving Chrysler quickly got boring, but the excitement of what we were doing kept us on edge and in focus.