AVOX in France

The worst part was the plane ride. I can't believe that my flight was on Pierre's private jet. I had no intention of being with him. When I told Martin it was Pierre's plane, I realized I unintentionally stuck a knife into his poor heart.

As we were approaching the private airport, I took out my phone and sent him a text after he didn't answer any of my calls. That's when I knew how angry he was, he always answered my calls.

"Marty, I love you and I know that you trust me. I had no choice but to go on this trip to secure this contract, and I hope you love me enough to understand. Please don't be jealous or think I'd ever do anything to hurt you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Pierre's plane, but he's been involved with the studio and the contracts and it was arranged without my knowledge. You know how I feel about him, and you have nothing to worry about. Please don't be jealous or mad, he means absolutely nothing to me, and I hope you know that. Please answer the phone when I call you later. I hate leaving like this and I need to hear you tell me you love me, and that we're OK. Please. I love you, baby!"

Driving away from his home (Martin)

Last minute notice, my ass. Fucking Pierre's plane and she never told me. This smells like rotting fish. It's Mary-Jo all over again, but this time I'm not going down quietly.

Stop calling me, bitch. I'm not going to answer your fucking calls when you leave me this way. Yes, I suppose I'm acting immature, and shouldn't be jealous, but after the way she's been acting since this project started, and her not telling me about Pierre just doesn't feel right. And I've learned to believe my instincts, and right now, they're telling me to be worried.

I stopped at the country club and read her text as I was on my second drink at the bar. My anger had subsided by then and I was trying to believe this was just a last-minute thing. Her calls continued, but I didn't answer. That's when I got her text message. I read it and tried to be understanding and realized I had no choice but to trust her and wait for her return. I wasn't happy, but had no control over this situation.

Even after reading her heartfelt text, I was still acting childish and didn't answer her calls or return her text messages. Since I never missed any of her calls or texts before, she had to know I was angry. Later that night when I went home, her sister Carmela called and tried to calm me down.

"Hi Carmela, what's up?" I answered.

"Hi, big brother. Justine tells me she messed up and feels terrible. I want you to know she cried and felt so guilty when she left today, but believe me, none of us knew about this until noon today. If we wanted that contract she had to leave, they didn't give her a choice. Nothing was planned and she had no idea she would be flying out with Pierre before that call. Marty, she's in love with you and nothing is going on. Are you going to be OK? Do you want me to come over?"

"Thanks for the call sweetheart, but I'll be OK. I'm just upset because of how she's been acting for the last six months and it seemed a little too coincidental that she left me this way, to fly with Pierre to France, with no notice. I feel like a sucker for letting this happen, and I don't know what I'll do."

"What do you mean? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. For some reason, I believe I've been set up and if you know me at all, you know I'm not someone that will put up with that. I'm not going to speak with her until she returns, and then I'll decide where we go from there."

"Marty, stop it. Nothing is going on, it's just a business deal and you'll be back to normal next week."

"Just a business deal? A last-minute flight to France with her ex-fiancé, on his private jet, for a few nights in the same hotel? Yeah, nothing going on, sure."

"Marty, where are you? You're buying me dinner tonight."

Dinner

Carmela was a carbon copy of her sister but a few inches taller. She didn't have the same artistic talents as Justine, but was highly intelligent with a master's Degree in finance and was a CPA. She ran Justine's business and finances and helped manage the day-to-day operations when Justine was away.

She was a few years younger than her sister. Carmela was just as sexy and desirable, and we quickly became close when I became her brother-in-law. There was never anything sexual between us as I was completely dedicated to Justine and only had eyes for her, but if I was honest when I saw her come into the restaurant in that tight dress and long legs, for the first time I saw her in a new light. I quickly put that thought out of my head and had a pleasant dinner.

When we were done, Carmela convinced me I was acting emotional and just to relax and trust Justine. She said she would know if anything was going on, but the only thing more important to Justine than her business was me, her husband. Carmela told me how much her sister loved me, and that she 'd never seen her this happy.

I listened and felt much better, but deep down my instincts were still on high alert. At least the drinks, dinner, and company soothed my nerves and I was able to get a decent night's sleep after I shut off my cell phone. Because of how she left, I was still not going to speak to her before she returned and continued to ignore her calls and text messages.

The next morning...

Celine, my assistant for the last 5 years, has been close to me and an integral part of my daily life. She was from Montreal and spoke French fluently, which gave me an idea of what I could do.

The next morning as soon as she arrived, I gave her the rundown on the story and told her I was probably being a jerk but had bad feelings about their trip. I asked her to find the best investigative firm in Cannes and arrange surveillance immediately. They would charge more for immediate work but I was more than happy to pay. I made it clear that I wanted this as a priority and was willing to pay extra for immediate surveillance.

Of course, they already knew Pierre from his fame and past exploits. That combined with my wife's photos and the hotel they were staying in made their job a breeze. They were instructed to immediately email me any photos I would find interesting, and that I wanted 24-hour surveillance along with a full history of their day's activity.

RAGE:

Before I woke up the next morning I had twelve photos on my phone, and to my extreme disappointment, I knew my concerns were correct. The photos showed them standing together with his arm around her, and several of them hugging with the awards and the stars. The last image was him holding her hand as they entered the hotel.

Perhaps I was acting out of jealousy and being immature but my jealousy was now in control, and I acted immediately. I had Celine book the next flight to Cannes with a return the next day. I did not need a hotel, as I would be there for less than 24 hours. I was going to put a stop to this one way or another. I had no plan just yet but I would come up with something on the flight over the Atlantic Ocean.

She found a non-stop flight that left that afternoon with an arrival at 5:45 AM the next morning. I had her book business class so that I would be rested when I got there, because I needed to be sharp when I confronted them.

The investigative firm sent me their room number, which I learned was a 2-bedroom suite. I prayed that what she had told me was true and they were not together. If she just kissed the guy and shared some small intimacy, then maybe, just maybe, I could get past this and stop anything else from happening. I loved her and I had to try to save our marriage.

Flying business class and having no baggage got me off the plane and through customs quickly. Since today was our anniversary, I had the cab stop at a U-Express where I picked up a dozen roses and 5 separate roses (An extra rose for every year, was our custom), a Covid face mask, and a pair of large scissors. We left and made it to their hotel by 8:20 a.m. In Cannes, during the awards, people are partying until late morning, so I knew that the couple would still be in their room, either sleeping or just getting up.

So far, everything just fell into place and my plans were starting to come together. Before I left the cab I put on my mask, pulled my hoodie over my head, took the flowers with the scissors in my pocket, and started my walk towards the front door of the hotel.

My plan was simple, not eloquent, but would satisfy my anger. I planned on walking through the lobby acting as a flower delivery man, and heading up to the 9th floor and suite 945. I would then knock on the door with the flowers. I knew he would open the door as they had no reason to believe I would visit them. If they were together, I planned to kick the crap out of Pierre and cut off his famous long hair. If she wasn't there, I would knock on her door and surprise her with my anniversary gift and rejoice in her fidelity. Simple and stupid, but if he was fucking my wife, I knew my plan would hurt him and his brand, deeply. However, my plans changed in the blink of an eye. While I was walking toward the front door of the hotel my phone beeped telling me of a new text message.

Room 945

Pierre was up early while Justine remained sleeping in his bed. He was going downstairs for a walk, and then to bring some coffee back to the room. While he quietly got dressed, he saw his beautiful Justine on the bed with her legs spread and her left hand on her thigh, right next to her sweet pussy, which displayed his dried cum on her legs. When he saw her wedding ring next to her exposed pussy, he acted on a stupid thought and did something which he would regret for the rest of his life.

Pierre saw Justine's phone on the nightstand and using her face recognition to open the phone, took a photo of Justine spread out naked with his cum leaking out of her pussy and her wedding ring in clear view. Knowing that her husband, Martin, was in another country and untouchable, Pierre had an unrelenting urge to let her jealous husband know that his perfect wife was now his woman.

For the last month, as hard as he tried to get her in bed, she told him of her love for Martin and their great marriage. Justine made it clear that there was no way she would ever be with another man, especially him after what he did to her last time. She told Pierre to stop trying to seduce her, and that their relationship was just business.

His ego got the better of him, and that's when he made the fatal mistake. After he took her photo, he opened her messenger application, found Martin's name, and typed a message. "Hey big guy, your wife is loving my cock. Too bad you're not here to see us in action. I think I'll keep her here with me for a while." Then he attached the photo and hit send.

Back in the hotel lobby

Martin was about to push the elevator button when the text came in. When he saw it was from Justine he stopped and opened the text message to see the woman he loved, on a bed naked with what looked like cum on her legs. Then he read the message, and his world imploded. Standing there frozen, holding the roses, and looking at the photo and message created a new level of hate in his head. After he regained consciousness, he walked to the elevator and fiercely hit the elevator button to face this predator and to wreak havoc. His plans had now changed and he was now going to kill this bastard.

Other than that text message, things were happening in his favor and the following events just fell perfectly into place. It was as if all the planets aligned, and everything was going his way. When he entered the hotel, the lobby was empty and quiet. Then, after he hit the elevator button the door opened and to Martin's shock and surprise, the man stepping off the elevator was Pierre, the same man that had just made him a cuckold, taken his wife, and destroyed his happy marriage.

Everything slowed down as if time itself had changed. And in those long few seconds, Martin relived the pain from Mary-Jo cheating on him years ago, and the picture of his naked wife that this man maliciously sent to his phone, less than two minutes ago. A dark cloud of pain and anger was now engulfing Martin as the scene progressed.

Martin instantly recognized the man with his long hair and blocked him from getting off the elevator. He stepped in front of him and pushed him back inside. Pierre, being a foot smaller, had no choice but to step backward into the elevator and started to object. In a firm voice, he told this hooded man holding the flowers to get out of the way, but even before the noisy doors closed Martin went into action. Pierre, still groggy from his night of partying, did not recognize the man with the flowers wearing the face mask and hoodie and continued to yell at the man for not letting him get off the elevator.

Working on high levels of adrenaline, Martin instantly grabbed a handful of Pierre's long hair and smashed his face into the steel wall of the elevator, rendering him unconscious. The old elevator was slow, and fortunately for Martin, the elevator didn't stop during his sub-minute revenge trip to the 9th floor.

As Pierre lay on the floor, Martin removed the scissors from his jacket and was about to cut off the long hair of this predator, but in a split-second, he remembered that conversation with Justine only a few days ago, about Pierre's golden tongue, and his reputation with the ladies.

Martin was suddenly overwhelmed with a dark thought. He let go of his hair and pulled Pierre's tongue out of his mouth. With a sick smile on his face, he cut about two inches off the end of Pierre's golden tongue and placed it in his pocket along with the scissors.

As the blood from his incision started to flow, he placed the roses on top of Pierre and exited the elevator as the door opened on the ninth floor. All this happened within less than a minute. Reality rushed back into him and he realized what he had just done. He stepped off the elevator and saw the exit sign for the stairway at the end of the hall, and descended quickly down to the lobby.

Back in room 945

As all this was taking place Justine was waking up and confused as to why she was naked and alone, and wondering why she was in Pierre's bed. Then she remembered how he convinced her to let him go down on her, but could not understand why. She would never let him touch her that way and told him that several times. Then suddenly she realized that something was leaking down her leg and panicked when she realized it was Pierre's cum.

Pierre knew how much she loved his tongue when they were together, but as hard as he tried, she was adamant that she wanted nothing to do with him and was happily married. She remembered how things were fuzzy, and tried to remember what had happened but could only remember him licking her pussy. That sent her into another panic attack. Did she do that last night?

Nothing made sense, then she remembered the glass of champagne he gave her while he tried to talk her into all this. They were celebrating the contract, and sharing a toast to their success. Did he drug her? She then recalled thinking that it was just a one-time thing and just oral sex, which she justified as not an affair or cheating. But this is wrong. She never would have done this without being forced or drugged. She loved her husband, and would never do anything to hurt him or their marriage and knew how he felt about infidelity.

Realizing what had happened, and overtaken with guilt, she felt a need to reach Martin. Her guilt was overriding her senses and she needed to talk to him. When she opened her phone and saw the open text message, her heart stopped. She saw the photo and the message that was sent to Martin, the man she loved and wanted to start a family with. When she saw the photos and read the words, she screamed. Anger raced through her blood, and she wanted to kick Pierre's ass now for ruining her marriage. She knew Martin was too much of a man to take her back after this, and she immediately went into crisis mode.

Knowing what he did, she was angry at Pierre and knew she had to save her marriage. She was going to press rape charges against Pierre, to prove to Martin it wasn't consensual. Because of his fame, he probably would get away with the charges, but she had to do something.

She didn't shower and just threw on some clothes and wanted to get out of the room before Pierre returned. She was pushing the button for the elevator to go to the police station to make the report. When the elevator door opened the first thing she saw were the roses, and then Pierre unconscious on the floor next to a puddle of blood. While she was trying to comprehend what she was looking at, she counted the roses and realized there were 17, the exact number Martin would have given her on their anniversary, which she suddenly realized was that day. In full panic mode, she wondered if Martin had been there and done this to Pierre. When the door reached the lobby, she ran off the elevator screaming.

"Call an ambulance, something happened to that man in the elevator," and ran out the front door. When she reached the street, she saw a large man getting into a cab, and she was certain it was Martin. Still in shock, she ran down the street yelling for the cab to stop. That's when tragedy struck as if the gods were against her that day. As she was running towards the cab, a young girl who was going too fast on her electric scooter ran directly into Justine, never having a chance to use the brakes.

Unfortunately, the impact violently spun Justine around, and then she found herself awkwardly pinned against a fire hydrant crushing her leg. The impact hit her full force ripping tendons, and dislocated her right knee. She passed out from the pain and woke up an hour later in the hospital telling the doctors that she was drugged and raped, and demanded to speak to the police.

Of course, the Paparazzi were parked outside the hotel waiting for something like this to happen and were quick to photograph Justine running out of the hotel, the accident, and photos of Pierre coming out of the hotel with blood running down his face and over his hands. The news would talk about Pierre's affair with Justine, and the attack from a betrayed spouse. The studio would love the press, but the betrayed husband and family would be devastated by the article that would end up on TV all over the world. It became the story of the week when they learned about Pierre's amputated tongue. Sadly, it was exactly what these vultures lived for.

Back at the hospital, the police took her report and when she was done the police asked if she knew that Pierre, the man she accused of raping her, was in his hospital bed several floors down, recovering from a concussion and an amputated tongue.

When she heard about Pierre, she just stared at the policeman with a shocked face and asked him what had happened. She knew that the only person who would be that angry and do something like that was Martin, but he was back in the USA, wasn't he? Or was that him getting into the cab? Her head was spinning and tears flowed from her eyes from the pain and fear of losing her husband.

"Mrs. Creed, do you know something about his attack? Do you know who would do something like this?"

There was no way she would mention Martin and just shook her head no. Then the officer gave her a look of disgust, and asked her a question that reeled her back into her bed.

"Mrs. Creed, the information we have on you, shows that you are married. Is your husband aware of your affair with Pierre?"

"There's no affair, he raped me."

"Mrs. Creed, we've all seen newspapers. They have you quoted as saying that Pierre was your lover, do you deny that?"