Tease the Bull...Payback!

"Carrie, I just got a sinking feeling." I said with a sigh. "Maybe what's going on doesn't require her to leave her building. Maybe she's assisting in a lot more ways than is usually required. Maybe it's time I take over surveillance while you run the studio. I know what floor she's working on and there are those big floor to ceiling windows in her office. Maybe I can set up across the street and look right in there. You see, Kyran has told me that her boss has a bedroom and bath in that suite. I might see them going in there for a suspicious length of time. I might not catch the full details, but maybe I can get a hint as to what the problem is. If what I suspect is going on, I don't want you subjected to seeing it. I'm a big boy, I can take it. As a matter of fact, I need to see it. I'm crippled and blinded by love here. If she's betraying me, and I see it with my own eyes, the blinders will come off. I won't hurt her physically, I could never do that. But I'll come down on her like the wrath of God, nonetheless."

"Just don't do anything stupid Will." Carrie cautioned, looking into my eyes while holding my hands, "Living well is the best revenge. Life's a big wheel. What goes around comes around."

"I promise little lady." I said with a smile that was only partly forced, "It would suck big time to have to have our little talks through two inches of bulletproof glass with me in orange pajamas."

God was with me. I was able to find an empty office directly across the street. With my camera set up on a tripod, and with a telephoto lens attached that would let me zoom in on a pimple on somebody's ass if they had one, I settled in to wait. It wasn't a long wait. Either these people were stupid, incredibly arrogant, or a combination of the two.

I couldn't see much the first day, because a lot of the action took place in that bedroom. Believe me; enough went on in the office proper to let you know they weren't playing Texas Hold 'Em back there. It wasn't just my wife and her employer either. I had heard my dear wife talk about the little brunette receptionist, Libby Fielding. My wife had called her a floozy and said she was probably bisexual. Well, surprise! So, apparently was my lovely bride, although floozy might be a bit too mild a term for either of them. The bisexual part was beyond appropriate for the both of them, however.

On day two, I hit the mother lode. All the action took place right there behind the big man's desk, in front of the window, and I got the whole thing. A memory card in a digital camera will hold a world of heartache; I'm here to tell you. Strangely enough, I was feeling completely different than I thought I would. I was angry, sure. I was also hurt. I felt disgust and contempt. I damn sure didn't get a hard on. I didn't shed a single tear, though my eyes did water up a bit. I just felt, well, numb. I guess a lot of that was due to the fact that I already knew, deep down inside, what I was going to find out here. One thing I did feel for sure was a deep need to make all three of them hurt like I was.

Step one was to make copies of all those damning photographs. One set went right away into a safety deposit box that Carrie rented. I stored the rest in a safe place and sat down to plot the mayhem that was coming down. I had to do this smart. I wanted to come down on the three of them like hard times, but I needed to look out for me first. When I did hand down retribution, it had to be choreographed. I wanted to move things like the pieces on a chess board. Maximum damage to them was good, while doing so with minimum blowback on me was even better. Since my dad was a former active duty Marine, he had taught me a few things. First and foremost was that I needed recon before I attacked. One of these people, I knew pretty well, obviously not as good as I had thought, but you get my meaning. The other two, especially King Big Dick, needed some study. I wanted to find the chinks in their armor, and I wanted to figure out how they would react when the heat was on so I could stay a move ahead.

I got a nice little bit of information when I looked into Libby Fielding. Her old man was a long haul trucker. He was one of four brothers and they were a hard lot. They were the type that lived by the feud and crossing them would likely result in major hurt to the offending party. I had the sneaking suspicion that Mr. Fielding wouldn't be the type to sit back and willingly share his lovely little wife with anybody. Here was a pressure point that I wasn't aware existed before and I quickly saw that I might be able to put Big Dick's ample balls very firmly in the pliers, much to my benefit.

As far as things on the legal front with me and the soon to be ex wife, that was simple. The Commonwealth of Virginia was community property in divorce matters, but she was walking with bupkus, other than her personal effects and automobile. She made good money. Let her start over. I was the offended party here. I reconsidered and decided to let her have half the savings and checking. There was no credit card debt, as we paid the balance each month. I wasn't being generous with her, it's just that I was planning on receiving a windfall she would have no part of and which would be off the books, so to speak. I wouldn't miss what little I gave up to her. Trust me, with what I had on her, she would play ball. As to that windfall, I quickly rejected the idea of some lame alienation of affection lawsuit. Even if it was feasible, it would be too public, too messy, and too time consuming. I had a better idea. Rather than one nuclear response, I favored three surgical strikes.

The first shot in the war was fired right after The Slut left for work the next day. In no time flat I had her gear packed, boxed, and on its way to the storage center. I also had a man changing all the locks on the doors. Next came the checking and savings accounts, dealing with changing the credit card over, a change in the beneficiary on my life insurance, and my will changed in a different direction. For obvious reasons, I also checked in with my medical provider of choice to be tested for STDs. Then it was off to the office suite of Mr. David Farris. I had to pray for the gods of timing to be with me here, and they smiled down on me. Out came my wife at close of business and I immediately headed up to Mr. Farris' office suite without her seeing me. The delectable Mrs. Fielding was obviously packing up to head out for the night as I breezed into the reception area like I owned the place. Without so much as a "by your leave" I headed past her toward the office door, and within a heartbeat, I had planted myself in the well upholstered chair in front of His Highness, King Big Dick.

"And just who the fuck are you?" he asked with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I'm Willis Hamilton." I informed him with a grin like a shark. "And if you're smart, you'll sit there, listen to me, and keep your mouth shut until I ask you to talk."

Oddly enough, he did. Oh, he wanted to talk. I could see the gears turning in his head as he wondered just what I knew, how I knew it, and could I prove it beyond his capacity for plausible deniability. I suppose he decided to let the string play out, to test my position, before he beat my ass and called for security.

"Now, big man," I began, as I fished an envelope out of my briefcase, "There are some very interesting pictures in there. I caught your...well, come to think of it, you don't have a good side. Neither does your receptionist, or my slut wife for that matter."

"So." He said with venom in his voice and contempt in his eyes, "You somehow got some good pictures of me fucking the help. It seems to me like they would be more of an embarrassment to you than they would to me. People are probably going to think you're not handling business very well at home. I would imagine they'll be proud of me for taking care of two hot women at one time. I won't even bother going into the invasion of privacy angle here."

"Are you shittin' me?" I asked incredulously, "How did a dumb motherfucker like you get rich? First, you're fucking two married women right in front of a glass window. You might as well have sold tickets, you pompous ass. Second of all, you think I'm going to be the embarrassed party here? I'm a self made businessman in this town and people know I'm hard working and moral. I don't drink excessively, drug, and run around on my wife. Her own family and friends know I've treated that woman like gold. She'll be seen as the whore she is. Folks will sympathize with me. Women will line up to "comfort" me. You, on the other hand, will be the poster boy for lowlife shits in this town. How are your business contacts going to see this? Here's a word for you. Try radioactive. Remember, this is a fairly small town, with the resulting small town morals. Things like this stand out here as opposed to, say, New York or Los Angeles. I bet you won't be quite so welcome in the social circle. Your presence already puts a strain on things as is. You're not exactly Donald Trump with the earring and the tats and the Harley."

"The next thing you need to concern yourself about is Mr. Fielding and the rest of the Fielding clan. I have strong suspicions that their reaction to these photos won't be litigation. I dare say that you're going to need a bulletproof vehicle and a security team to replace that Harley. To sum up, Mr. Farris, I've got you by the short hairs. Oh, excuse me, photographic evidence says you don't have short hairs. Let's change short hairs to ball sack."

"I've got two questions." He said, looking like someone took a healthy crap in his oatmeal, "How much are these pictures going to cost me? And how do I know you won't release them anyway?"

"Actually, David, you're going to get off relatively light." I said with a grin. "Being the artistic type, I've got a feeling for poetic justice today. You literally screwed a marriage that was almost three years old. So, in answer to your first question, that comes to three million dollars. That's a large amount to me, but a mere pittance to a high roller like you. Among those photos is the number of an offshore account. If the money is in said account by 10:00 am in the morning, you will get the second and final set of pictures. That is, of course, with the exception of a set that will be held in a secure location against the eventuality of my unfortunate demise of any suspicious nature. Just be glad Kyran and I hadn't been together ten or twenty years. One other thing, David. That set of photos will also be held to enforce a non disclosure agreement. The exchange of the three million stays between you and I. You tell no one. You especially don't tell Kyran. If that whore tries to come after it in a divorce settlement, the pictures come out. She also keeps her job. I'm damned if I'm paying her alimony to sleep around on me."

"As to your second question, realistically you don't know, you just have to trust me on that one. I really came out on the plus side here after all. I'm rid of a cheating slut, you're stuck with her, and I've got a three million vacation and retirement fund. I've got all I need out of you. There's no need for me to kick a dead horse. You might consider yourself ill used in your current position, but I will point out that if you had chosen to keep your sizeable penis zipped up you wouldn't be in this quandary. As a wise man once said, 'God gave man a brain and a dick and only enough blood to supply one of them at a time.' You clearly chose to follow the wrong one, and now it's time to pay the fiddler for the dance music."

"There's one more thing we need to discuss. I know, just sitting here looking at you, that you're going to be tempted to smash me, to impose your physical will at some point. I want you to know something, a bit of a warning. I've got a second hobby, although I haven't practiced it as much since I married. You see my dad and I love to shoot, and the old Marine taught me well. I still wager I can hold a five shot group that you could cover with your hand at a respectable distance. I've got a 1911 Colt and a license for concealed carry. She's a beauty. She's nickel plated with ivory grips. She has a match grade barrel, chamber, and trigger, and adjustable combat sights with tritium inserts. Her feed system has even been polished so those jacketed hollow points I use don't hang up and jam. Jacketed hollow points are bad news in general, but .45ACP hollow points make SUCH a mess. Even a big old boy like you would be toast after a double tap, center mass with a couple of those babies. If, after this evening's discussion, I see you coming my way, I'll turn your skull into a soup bowl. You may be a lot bigger than me physically, but Colonel Colt and John Browning made us all the same size, God bless them. I have a very simple philosophy, better to be tried by twelve than carried by six. A word to the wise is sufficient, Mr. Farris. You have a nice evening Sir."

Leaving his office, I imagined I now knew how General Grant felt when he took Richmond. Looking at my cell phone, which I had turned off while I bearded the lion that was David Farris, I noted about umpteen calls from my dear wife. I wasn't as yet ready to deal further with her, but I knew I had to throw her a bone until the right time. So I gave her a ring.

"Yes dear, it's your loving hubby. How may I help you?"

"Will, what's wrong? My key won't work. I can't seem to get into the studio or the apartment."

"Yes Kyran. That would be because the locks have all been changed. I would suggest that you try staying at your mom and dad's house tonight."

"But Will, honey. I'll need a change of clothes for work tomorrow. And why can't I stay with you at the apartment tonight?"

"Because my dear, you no longer live at MY apartment. You have no clothes, or anything else that belongs to you at MY apartment. Your clothes are in storage at the storage center along with the rest of your things. If you hurry over there you can pick them up right away. I would suggest you take your dad's pickup. It won't cost you a cent. The rent on the unit is paid up until the end of the month and is in your name. And please dear, don't try to insult my intelligence by pretending we don't both know why you can't stay with me tonight. I'll further ask that you not contact me again tonight, as I do not wish to talk with you. I'll meet with you tomorrow, at noon, at Roscoe's on the outside patio and we'll have lunch and discuss the situation, that is, if you can stop sharing your pussy with David Farris and Libby Fielding long enough to do so."

All I heard was a gasping intake of breath and the connection went dead. She was good enough to heed my wishes. Believe it or not, I slept the sleep of the righteous that night.

The next morning, I waited until 10:30 to see if David had decided to play ball. The money had indeed been placed into the account. I suppose he figured it was a relative bargain to avoid a shitstorm that would surely stain him badly, and would probably wind up costing him even more money than that in the long run. I proceeded to immediately move it again, just to cover any loose tracks. I had a smile on my face a yard wide. I had extracted at least one of three pounds of flesh. Now, no matter how things turned out between me and Kyran, I was going to be set. I didn't want to, but if need be I could pack up and move to a different city and start over in fresh surroundings. But with all my friends and family here, that didn't seem too attractive. Hell, if somebody needed to move, let it be them.

I arrived at Roscoe's at the appointed time, ordered an iced tea and an order of beer battered onion rings and sat back to wait for Kyran. If she had the balls to show up, I was ready to end this sham of a marriage. She arrived looking harried and sick. She declined my offer of food, but ordered coffee. I'm almost ashamed to say that made me feel a little swell of triumph. All was not well in Kyranland. For the duration of our conversation she had extreme difficulty looking me in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Will." She began with a halting voice and downcast eyes, "I knew this day was coming. It's my fault, first of all. This was nothing you did or didn't do. I pulled my own house down on my own stupid head with my own dirty little hands."

"Kyran, I just have to know." I asked her softly, trying to look into her eyes, "What the Hell happened? I know I'm not perfect, by any means. That being said, I loved you more than my own life. I would have gladly died for you. I did everything I could do to make you happy. The sad thing is that I thought you WERE happy."

"It's the same old story Will." She said sadly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap, "I was so deliriously happy with you. Somewhere along the way, I just got dissatisfied with that. I wanted even more. I've tried to tell myself that I didn't really want to start an affair with David. The truth is that from a strictly legalistic viewpoint, he did rape me the first time. When I go back and look at it in the cold light of day, it doesn't hold water though. I was flirting with him quite outrageously. The excitement I got from that flirtation I brought home to you, and therefore it was justified in my mind. What I now realize, much too late, is that it was all about me and David from the start."

"David saw through my little charade. He knew what I really wanted, and he decided to just cut through the bullshit. In light of what happened that day, and the events of the months following up until now, he was obviously proven to be quite the more self aware of the two of us. The truth is self evident, although it's very much painful now. I had no power to stop things that first time, that much is true, although it's still my fault that I was in the situation to start with. The simple fact is that it was good. It was forbidden, and wicked, and kinky, and I loved it. Still, I could have stopped it there, though I would have had some guilt to live with. The real damaging truth set in the second time, and then the third, and so on. I kept going back and doing it over and over again, because the sad fact is that I enjoyed it."

"I knew it was wrong. I knew I was acting in a depraved fashion. I was blissfully doing things that I would have been disgusted at seeing in others. And yet I still kept going back and doing those things, over and over. The worst part is not that I did them. The worst part of it all is that I loved doing it."

"No, that's not even right. The worst thing is that I knew what I was doing was going to hurt people who loved me. You, my parents, my friends, my real friends, were going to eventually find this out. Knowing that, realizing that I was going to eventually bring all that hurt and shame upon the people I loved, and still willfully enjoying my selfish, destructive, desires shows me in the cold light of day what a monster I've become. God help me."

"Well, Kyran, I'm at least glad that you've gained all this insight. Sadly, like most people in your position, your insight came way too late. It didn't show up until you finally got busted."

"I know that Will." she looked positively miserable now, tears running down her cheeks, "My position here is indefensible. Still, and I think I know the answer before I even ask this, is there any hope for us? I'll do anything. I'm already planning on getting professional help. I've already told my mom and dad the whole sordid story, though it nearly killed them. I don't love David. I still believe if we can maybe get counseling we can work this out. I still want to have your babies. I want us to grow old together. I know it's hard to believe, but I do really love you Will."

"Oh my God, Kyran." It was now my turn to look at the floor and shake my head as tears began to flow, "I prayed when I came here this afternoon. I knew I was probably going to hear things that I didn't want to hear. But I begged God to be merciful. I prayed that you wouldn't say the one thing that you just did."