Trial in Error

When I passed my bar exam and started on the long road to becoming a successful lawyer, I thought I was headed towards easy street. My wife and I had been together since high school, and she had supported me all throughout the grueling tribulations of law school, the lonely nights at home, me not being there for special occasions, and now I was making it up to her by buying us the high-class lifestyle.

I wondered sometimes why my wife Lori was with me, but she seemed to genuinely like my personality, and we always laughed at the same jokes as we lay next to each other at night watching television, my legs entwined around hers, our hands just barely touching. Still, if Lori wanted to go out and do better, I’m sure she could, and a lot better.

Lori used to be in local teen modeling, doing things like department store clothes and such, and even though it had been about seven years since all of that she still had the figure and probably could go back into modeling if she ever wished. Long legs, which are a modeling mainstay, were her best feature, and this long red hair that drifted over her breasts just slightly when she laid next to me, even the dreaded light sprinkling of freckles across her shoulders and nose, the curse of all redheads, on her they just added an element of innocence.

These are the things I worrying about as I’m sitting alone in my house on a Friday night. I had gotten back from the firm about seven hours ago and the place was empty. At first I thought maybe she was out running errands, and then I thought maybe she was getting her nails done and I had forgot. When midnight came and went and I was left sitting alone in my living room, I didn’t know what my thoughts should be.

Everything seemed so surreal, had Lori left me? Was she out with another man? Had things been deteriorating these last weeks, had our relationship fallen apart around me without me knowing it? I could see it, in that part of the brain that is whispering those dark little things that the rest of you fervently tries to black out, like flashes from a strobe. Lori dancing with another man, blinding light behind them, so I can see every nuance of their togetherness in startling clarity, his arm around her, her smile, their eyes seemingly finding each others deepest secrets in their gazes and then the light would fade and with it the image, sinking into an almost forgetfulness, only to be replaced again and again. Lori and the man inching together…closer…closer…fade, Lori being led inside his apartment with a kiss from him on her neck, her spot, which causes her to smile, the edges just slightly quivering…fade, Lori standing above him on the couch, his hands slowly reaching to the sky as he cupped her breasts and pulled her down to him…fade, Lori kneeling between his legs as he stares down sneeringly at her stroking his cock while licking the tip, just lightly, so lightly and preciously “My little slut, my little whore,” he is saying to her…STOP IT DAMMIT!

I couldn’t believe it; Lori and I had been going strong since our wedding, and these past months we have been discussing the possibility of bringing an addition into our happy home. So what was it? Where was she?

So wrapped up in these thoughts, the phone ringing doesn’t even register until about the sixth ring. The world is far away, everything seems detached, off in this unreachable distance, and it’s as if I’m watching a movie of myself walking across the room and putting my hand on the receiver. I almost want to pick it up and slam it back on the cradle, there is this energy, a premonition of knowing that this midnight phone call is going to shatter my life like a shotgun blast.

“Hello? Lori?”

“John Fletcher I presume? Attorney John Fletcher? I believe I have something that belongs to you.” Deep inhalation as if the speaker were taking a drag on a cigarette on the other line.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“The same attorney John Fletcher that took up the Havarro case? We were all very disappointed by your failure John. Very disappointed, Mister Havarro was a good friend of ours John."

My breathing stopped and I couldn’t seem to be able to reciprocate it, it was as if all the air in the room had suddenly been pulled into some vacuum. Garcia Havarro was this piece of shit whose case I had taken on earlier this year. Hopeless case really, gangland higher up dealer who was guilty on several charges of importing cocaine with intent to distribute; nobody would touch this case with a stick. Except for me, starting out attorney, trying to make a name for myself, and with a case like this there would be plenty of publicity. I took it, bullshitting him the entire time trying to make him think I believed in his case when all I was after were the headlines.

“John, are you still there John? It’s not going to be beneficial to either of us if this phone call doesn’t go well, do you understand that John? You do know where your wife is don’t you? Why don’t you tell me where she is?”

“You have her you son of a bitch…”

“Good John, your quick on the uptake! Now, we need a few things from you, because Mr. Havarro does us no good in a jail cell for the next twenty years. We need the money for bail, and then for a retrial, with a competent lawyer this time. We figure the cost of that plus compensation for the inconvenience you have put Mr. Havarro through will come roughly to a million dollars.”

It felt as though a hole had opened beneath me, and I was sinking in powerless to stop myself. I gripped the phone tightly with both hands, white knuckled, shaking, my whole body was convulsing. A million dollars? The amount seemed comical almost, where would I, fledgling lawyer working civil suits and cases nobody else wants, come up with one million dollars?

“I…I don’t know if I can get that much…yes, I can, its just going to take time, don’t hurt her okay? What are you going to do to her, how long do I have?”

If you could hear a smile, I’m sure one would accompany the speaker’s next few words. “Well you see John, I’m not a brute like some people you might be involved with in your line of work. You have a week, or else I regrettably will have to kill her, sooner if you get the police involved. You see John, I’m a lover not a killer, and you have a very beautiful wife. Have a nice night John.”

Click. Silence. I went through the motions of dialing *69, letting the phone fall off the hook as soon as I heard the kindly recorded voice informing me that the call had come from a blocked number. My legs would no longer support me, and I collapsed onto the floor.

I don’t think I slept so much as blacked out that night; my living room was slowly spinning. I would close my eyes, and suddenly the man’s voice would again be in my ears, or I would reach over to wrap my arms around Lori and she wouldn’t be there and I would wonder why I was laying on the floor in the living room, my mind trying to hold back the reality, trying to keep it from driving me insane.

I found myself lying on the floor in the morning, staring blankly at the ceiling, the phone buzzing to let me know it was off the hook. I got to my feet, hanging up the phone and walking through the house, expecting to see Lori at every turn, hoping upon hope it was all a dream. I ate breakfast, all in a distant dream, writing down the numbers I would need to call from my black book for future use.

I called the realtor, telling her I needed to sell the house and that I would take far less than I paid for it, than my broker, telling him to cash in all of my stocks and bonds and transfer the money to my bank account, and finally my banker scheduling to see him about a loan. All these things would take time though, three days at least. There seemed to be one question on the minds of everybody I called, Is something the matter? Are you in some kind of trouble John? “Of course not,” I would reply, leaving it at that.

* * * * *

The first package came that day.

No mailing label or stamps, I just found it in a plain brown package next to my door, and I realized without a shock that they must have people watching me. I picked it up, scanning the street outside, and walked back into my house tearing off the packing tape. It was a jewel case with a burned DVD inside, a note on the cover:

How is the money coming along John? This is your friend, Mr. Havarro’s business acquaintance. I have sent a little motivation to you, I find my method is a lot more enjoyable than having to detach limbs one at a time, if sometimes just as messy. Watch the disc John, you might like it.

-Signed, Your Friend

I was shaking, it took three times to finally put the disc into my DVD player, and click play. There she was, Lori, looking beautiful even after all of this, her hair just slightly disheveled. She was unbound, but they had taken her clothes, leaving my wife lying in the room in just her underwear, her long legs stretched out beneath her. She was looking wide-eyed at something just off camera, and then I see him enter the shot, cooing comforting phrases at her, and even though his voice sounds gentler than the businesslike tone he talked to me with, I can tell that he was looking at the man who had called here.

My outrage was boundless, watching this man approaching my wife, running his eyes up her legs to the spot where they connected in a brief triangle of red panties and almost salivating over the cleavage revealed by her bra. I could tell immediately he would be considered more attractive than me, in his dark complexion and hair typical of his Sicilian ancestry, predator like sleekness of build, slightly muscled, clean shaven with his hair swept back and falling along his shoulders. He wore only jeans, and dragged a chair into the scene, transitioning from standing to sitting in it in one fluid motion.

He was talking to Lori softly, so as that I couldn’t make out the words no matter how high I turned up the volume. She looked at him fearfully, gasping in short little breaths as she looked quickly at the camera. The man said something more harshly, and finally Lori nodded her head slowly, sniffing. “Now I know your going to love this John,” the man turned and said to the camera, giving the lens a wink. Lori turned again and looked pleadingly at the camera, mouthing the words ‘I love you.’ to me.

He reached behind her head with one arm, wrapping his fingers in her hair and drawing her closer to the obvious bulge in his jeans, drawing her head down to stroke along the bulge with her side of her face, telling her to unzip it which she did. I could see her hands trembling slightly as she undid the top button and unzipped the fly, pulling the pants down his legs and off him after commanded to do so next, until the mans cock, freed from its constraint, was throbbing inches away from my wife’s face. I noticed with a twinge of asinine jealousy that his cock was longer and thicker than mine as well, standing at maybe eight inches, slightly lighter in color than the rest of his body, pubic hair trimmed back accentuating it’s length.

I was flooding my head with these thoughts so as to not register what was happening as my wife reached out with one hand, looking small and helpless next to her assailant, and closed her fingers around the base of his cock, just above his balls. No this can’t be happening, I’m thinking as with the assistance of his hand behind her head my wife’s face is getting closer to this stranger’s cock, her mouth opening just slightly as her eyes shut. Her mouth widened into a loose O as her lips wraped around the tip of his cock, his hand coaxing her to take more and more of it into her mouth, I’m watching this stranger’s cock disappear down the throat of the mouth that I had enjoyed kissing for all of these years, I was watching my wife suck his prick.

The man was smiling right at the camera, easing her further and further down his shaft, letting her slide her lips back up along it letting me see the sheen of my wife’s saliva coating his prick, and then down again, getting her to suck more of it into her throat each time until she started gagging. He returns her attention back to her, and in this rich, sensual voice intones, “Relax baby, you have to relax your throat. I bet you never got this much cock from your husband, did you? Tell me?” I was humiliated as she took the cock out of her mouth and shook her head no, looking at the shaft and tip, wet from her own mouth, looking at the strangers cock in her hand she was being forced to suck. “Well, you just have to relax you throat. Try again.”

He was so gentle with her, I couldn’t believe this was the same man who had told me he would kill my wife in a week. I was breathing hard, face flushed, hands gripped into fists tearing into the leather on my armchair. Watching him once again leading my wife’s mouth along the length of his cock, deeper and deeper until her face is flush against his waist and the entire cock is in her throat. He starts thrusting his hips into her face, and she reciprocates, bobbing her head slowly to the thrusts of the cock in her mouth, her brows furrowed and eyes shut tight. I notice that their gentle rocking motion is causing the strangers balls to sway, slapping against my wife’s face as their mutual intensity builds.

Abruptly his hips shoot upwards and he let out a moan, and I knew he had finished. My wife’s mouth shot off the cock and looked as if she were about to spit out the offending semen, but one of the man’s hands covers her mouth. She fought against it, but was having a hard time breathing so finally she gave up and I saw her swallow. When he took his hand away, there was still some of his cum that she had tried to spit out smeared across her bottom lip and chin. She looked guiltily at the camera. Lori had never let me cum in her mouth, much less swallowed it, and now she was sitting there with the cum from a man who had raped her making its way to her belly. She kept mouthing I love you I love you but all I could see was the other man’s semen all over her lips and face.

The man stood up, pulling his jeans back over his wet cock and left my wife kneeling on the ground by the chair. He pulled the camera away from her and held it in front of him, talking directly into the lens in a harsh whisper, “Your wife sucks a good cock John, but then I’m left wondering if you have ever experienced her as fully as I have? Have you been neglecting your wife John? Tsk tsk! She seems a bit…how should I put this gently, cock hungry? We need that money John, and if you don’t enjoy seeing your wife like this I suggest making it quick. Then again, maybe you enjoyed your wife’s little performance. Do you like watching your wife suck my cock John, because I sure did. Six more days John. I would hate to have anything unpleasant happen to your wife because of you, she really is something special you know?” Big Smile. “I would hurry with the money John, I really would.”

I slammed my fist against the TV, picking up a lamp and smashing the screen in with the base. I think I was screaming the entire time, but then again I wasn’t really dictating what I was doing. The screen exploded in a spray of sparks and glass that showered over the carpet. The phone was ringing behind me, and I snatched up the receiver.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! You fucking son of a bitch, I’ll fucking kill you!”

The voice on the other end was silent. “Than…you wouldn’t be interested in switching your long distance carrier sir?”

I let out shrill laughter as I put the phone down again, falling backwards into the shattered glass of the television screen, laughing and crying simultaneously. The phone was ringing again and I picked it up, “Yes hello, I would like to sign up with your company! Please give me your long distance package!” I was laughing uncontrollably.

“John,” the voice said, “Now isn’t a good time to be losing it. Control yourself, take a deep breath. You are no good to us or your wife if you don’t keep your head.”

“I’m fucking getting you the money god dammit! Leave her the fuck alone, you fucking FUCK!”

”John, your wife, she is being taken very good care of. Listen to yourself John, would you prefer I was sending you parts of your wife daily until we get the money? We are taking very good care of her, three meals a day, nice place to sleep. We just have to make sure you are…motivated.”

“Leave her alone, please, I’m begging you…”

“And I’m begging you John, get us the money. I’m not a bad guy John; I don’t want to have to do what I’m going to have to do at the end of the week. Plus, I think you better hurry… your wife and I filmed tomorrows gift to you, and I’m starting to think she is enjoying it.”

CLICK.

I slammed the phone to bits on the coffee table. It was running over and over in my head, what did he do this time? Did he make her suck him again, did he fuck her? And what the hell did he mean by she was enjoying it? In my head I imagined him putting his cock in her, hearing her moan her familiar moan.

I moved the bedroom TV into the living room, as well as hooked up the cordless phone. I couldn’t sleep in the bedroom, in our bed, filled with our memories together. His words on the phone going straight to my heart. “I’m starting to think she is enjoying it.”

Liar, fucking liar goddamn it, not my Lori, never, she would never enjoy sex you with you fucking piece of shit. I was breathing so fast I was feeling light headed, and I logged online to see if my stock and bond money had been transferred yet. I was scarcely on when I get this email from a friend of mine, Harvey, a professor in psychology reading that he had something to show me and that he hoped I was sitting down.

I knew what it was, my dread growing proportionately to the download indicator bar, and suddenly in the instant message screen there is a picture of my wife with his cock in her mouth.

Harvey informed me gently that these were all over the Internet, and if maybe Lori and I had been having problems lately? I told him to come over if he wanted to, that I really needed somebody to talk to.

About thirty minutes later, he and I are sitting on in the living room, and I’m explaining the story, drinking straight Vodka out of a bottle from my bar in the kitchen. Harvey keeps murmuring shit over and over, asking if I had gone to the police, and I told him no, if I did they would kill her.

Than I asked him about what he had said, about her enjoying it. “That’s not possible right? I mean, people in that kind of situation don’t enjoy stuff like that, right?”

Harvey’s face was grim. “Listen, I know Lori and she loves you very much. She isn’t the kind of girl who would ever cheat on you. However, the human psyche has the natural predisposition to adapt to a situation, as a form of self-preservation, otherwise there is a good chance it could snap, rendering the victim into a state of catatonia, or worse. You have heard of Stockholm syndrome right? It’s where the victim builds an affinity towards its captor whether than having to repeatedly face the realization of their situation. Well, you may have to accept that she is accommodating her situation to avoid a complete mental breakdown. Listen, I just suggest you get her back as soon as possible. Don’t watch the discs, he’s just trying to get to you. Don’t focus on what he is or isn’t doing to her, just focus on getting her back, okay? And I of course will lend you any money you need extra, you just have to ask.”

I thanked him, though my mind was far from relieved. I felt worse than I did before he came over, imagining Lori sitting on his cock, moaning as it slid into her, his thick member stretching her out, reaching deeper than mine ever could.

”Uhm, John. You’ve been silent for fifteen minutes; I think it would be best if I showed myself out. Just let me know about the money, okay?” Harvey gripped my shoulder with one hand, walking past me towards the front door and opening it. “Oh, and John. Just. Just remember okay, these kind of things are very traumatizing. If…When you get Lori back…she might not be the same. Just be ready for that.”