Coercion

"I've got a better idea," Abby excitedly shared. "Let's not say anything to our men. Wouldn't it be awesome to surprise them both with the news of becoming new daddies at the same time? It would bind the four musketeers together stronger than ever. Just think of the possibilities. Our kids could grow up playing together as best friends. Hey, if one of us has a girl and the other one a boy, they could even grow up in love and get married. How amazing would that be? You and I both know for a fact that our guys would be over the moon with excitement if we gave them the news that we're both pregnant at the same time. What do you say, Christine?"

"To your point, we've both been on the pill for a good while. How would we even know how long it would take for us to get pregnant? How would that work?" Christine astutely asked.

Chapter-5

Abby informed, "As a matter of fact, I've been reading up on that very topic as to what happens when we stop taking the pill. The answer ultimately depends on where we are in our menstrual cycles. If we stop taking the pills in the middle of our packs, we could get pregnant right away. On the other hand, if we finish out the month's pills, pregnancy may be possible later after our cycles get back to normal. We're both part of the way through our pill-taking cycles right now. Somehow our periods have synchronized. I've heard that a lot of close friends do that. Anyway, if we stop taking our birth control pills at the same time near the middle of the pill-taking cycle, then the chances are very good that we could both become pregnant right away near the same time. We could hold off having sex for about a week, get our husbands very randy, and all worked up, then turn them loose on our bodies, draining them of all their baby batter. I bet it would work."

"You're on, girlfriend. Let's do it. Let's see, a week from now, we'll be in the middle of our pill-taking cycles. We'll stop taking the pills a week from today. But are you sure we shouldn't say anything to Nolan and Justin?"

"Can you imagine the double surprise on both of their faces when we reveal to them both at the same time that they're going to be daddies now? It's sure to draw us even closer together." Abby reassured.

"Alright then. I'm on board. You've convinced me. Mum's the word." Christine conceded.

At my office, a very large potential client was applying for a huge loan to perform a manufacturing upfit. Since the new client had been assigned to me, it fell upon me to visit their largest manufacturing facility on the west coast to evaluate and confirm their needs, as well as go over their financial records over the weekend to assess their viability to pay back the loan. This task would take me out of town for the entire weekend. I wasn't given a choice. Time constraints required that I fly out early Friday morning on a red-eye and return Sunday night.

Coincidentally, Justin was reluctantly scheduled to switch his work shift for that same weekend. A night shift detective had a wife in the hospital giving birth, so Justin was volunteered by the police chief to sub for him during nights over the weekend. He hated that shift because invariably many domestic disturbance cases escalated to violence. Christine had planned to fly with me to the west coast to avoid being left alone all weekend but Abby explained Justin's work situation to her and begged her to stay, and go out with her on Friday and Saturday nights for girls' nights out. Christine relented and giggled at the prospect of them being two hotties out on the town.

Because I was on the west coast for the weekend, and my schedule was helter-skelter due to the many records I had to evaluate and plant walk-throughs that would require my time, Christine asked me not to contact her after 6 pm California time, 9 pm Charlotte time. It made sense that I would be the one initiating our calls never knowing when I'd have a few free minutes here or there before 6 pm. On Friday, we executed the walk-throughs after the plant closed that afternoon for the weekend, so I was able to talk to her at length before she retired for the night.

Saturday was much more involved. Their entire accounting department was instructed to be at my disposal the whole weekend to provide any needed documentation and answer any financial questions to aid in my analysis. I managed to sneak away for a couple of minutes, right at 6 pm, and gave Christine a call. She was at a club with Abby saying they were having a grand time. I was told that they weren't planning on staying out much longer. We said 'I love you' to each other, and brought our conversation to a close.

Three of the company board members, and their wives were expecting me to relax Saturday night, and let them treat me to an evening of entertainment, California style, so my plate was full as well. Their wives were dressed to kill and occupied as much of my time on the dance floor as possible. I was sure their husbands had instructed them to flaunt their bodies at me for my 'entertainment' to help seal the deal but I was a very polite gentleman the entire night. I flew back Sunday night right on time, and Christine picked me up from the airport. We exhaustively rang each other's chimes that night after I returned.

As expected, the following Friday night, we reconnected once again with our best friends. Abby and Christine acted coyly as if they had been naughty behind our backs when they had gone out the previous weekend but Justin and I both knew better and played along with them in a flirty fashion.

The following weekend, on Saturday night, Christine invited them over for dinner at our house. She served one of her awesome specialties, classic Duck a l'Orange. It was to die for. It was accompanied by green beans and rice pilaf. Abby assisted by making her delectable tossed salad with homemade dressing. Christine's homemade pecan pie rounded out the meal and everyone was about to bust after over-partaking of the splendid delicacies.

I talked Justin into helping me with cleanup in the kitchen, leaving the girls to relax after having created such a feast. Justin was acting a bit off for some reason that night, not quite his usual jovial self. He seemed to have something on his mind but never revealed anything that was bothering him.

Afterward, the four of us chatted and drank wine in the den as we continued making small talk. Justin suddenly excused himself saying that he needed to get something from his car. He returned within a couple of minutes carrying a manila folder comprising a collection of documents and laid it on the coffee table.

"What is that, Justin?" Christine asked.

Justin paused, took a deep breath, looked very concerned, and then began sharing what had been bothering him all evening.

He opened the folder and produced a five-by-seven mug shot of a twenty-something-year-old black man and showed it to Christine and me.

"Christine, do you know this man?" Look carefully before you respond.

Christine said, "I don't need to study it, Justin. I've never seen that man before in my life. Why do you ask?"

"I'll get to that in a moment. Can you tell me where you were and what you were doing two Saturday nights ago at 4 am?"

She thought for a moment and responded, "That's easy. I was in bed fast asleep. What's with the third degree, Justin? Why are you asking me these silly questions?"

"They're not silly questions, Christine. I'm deadly serious. Can anyone else verify your statement that you were in bed asleep that Saturday night at 4 am? Anyone at all?"

Christine's countenance suddenly fell. Justin was all business. He didn't seem to be joking around like he normally did. She felt the seriousness of his questions warranted a serious response.

"Let me think," She recounted. "That Saturday night, Nolan was in California working with a financial client. Abby and I went out to eat that night and then drove to a nightclub. As I recall, we got buzzed a bit that night on the wine but I distinctly remember Abby getting me home close to 10 pm that night. Yes, that's right, 10 pm, right Abby?"

Abby nodded her confirmation of that detail.

"Okay, what happened after that, Christine? It's very important that you remember any details. You arrived home around 10 pm. What next?" Justin dug.

"Nothing," she rejoined. "Abby and I had a glass of wine to unwind from the night. Then she left to go home. I went to bed and slept like a log, end of story. At 4 am I was dead to the world. I don't think I even got up to pee a single time that night. Please, Justin, why are you asking me these questions? What's this all about?"

He expounded, "The man in that picture is Deshawn Bodega, a two-bit drug dealer. We've arrested him a couple of times but he managed to get off each time on technicalities. We believe he had ties to the mob, and their attorneys kept him out of jail. Anyway, that Saturday night, Deshawn was found alone, dead, in a motel room across town. The detectives in charge of the case suspect he was murdered. It's circumstantial evidence but it's crystal clear, compelling, and convincing."

"That's all well and good, Justin, but why are you asking ME these questions? You can't seriously think that I had anything to do with that," she said flatly.

Justin produced another close-up picture of a pair of red designer lacy women's panties. They had clearly been worn. I looked over her shoulder as he handed her the picture to review.

"Christine, do you recognize these panties? Are they yours? This pair is officially logged into evidence in Deshawn's murder investigation case."

I immediately recognized the panties as one of my favorite pairs for Christine to wear.

She blushed, then replied, "I believe I have a pair just like these in this picture. I haven't worn them in a while. They should be up in my bedroom. Is it important?"

"Very," he stoically said. "Would you mind going and checking right now?"

Christine defiantly sprang to her feet and bounded up the stairs to our bedroom where she searched for them. She returned empty-handed after a few minutes. "I used to have a pair just like them," she admitted, "but I can't find them right now. They seem to be missing. What difference does it make if I have a pair of red underwear just like those?" She demanded.

"Man, this doesn't look good. Doesn't look good at all," Justin mumbled. "The panties in this picture were located just under the edge of the bed in the motel room where Deshawn's body was found. Our forensics lab has thoroughly tested them for DNA. There is semen on the gusset of the panties and a female DNA sample was readily retrieved from the panties as well. The semen is established to belong to Deshawn Bodega. The female DNA residual on the panties belongs to you, Christine. That's why I'm asking you these questions."

"ME?! You say it's my DNA? Impossible! That's impossible, I tell you. How can you say it's mine? How could you possibly know that?" She angrily demanded.

"The last time we went to the beach," he began, "your hairbrush was left behind. Abby grabbed it and planned on returning it to you. Your hair samples in that brush are an identical DNA match to the female DNA left on the panties found in the motel room with Deshawn's body."

"This is crazy, absolutely insane, Justin. A random drug dealer turns up dead, and right off the bat you somehow suspect me? Why on earth would you even think to test MY DNA against what was found on those panties? What possible reason possessed you to even consider such a thing?"

"An exceptionally compelling reason, Christine. Are you certain you don't have anything else you want to tell me beforehand? Do you really want me to produce incontrovertible evidence?"

"I've got nothing to hide. You're doggone right I want to see your evidence because there can't be any," she emphatically affirmed.

Justin slowly removed another crystal clear eight-by-ten color photograph from the folder and handed it to her. As she and I looked at it, total shock set in. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it possible, not my wife, my Christian wife, the woman who declared her love and fidelity to me.

Christine was holding a high-definition picture of her lying naked on a bed, intertwined with a man, the same one identified in the earlier photograph. They both appeared to be asleep. Her face was shown only from the side, so she might have protested saying it wasn't her as her face wasn't clearly visible. However, there was an unmistakable red heart-shaped tattoo on the woman's left hip right below the panty line, and yes right in the center of the heart was the distinct outline of a key slot. Our tattoos were custom designed. No one else would have one exactly like that in precisely the same spot.

And to top it off, her hand was positioned in such a way that it clearly showed her wedding ring, the very ring that I put on her hand five years ago. It was undoubtedly her. As much as I hated to admit it, there was no denying that my wife was naked in bed with a known drug dealer. What's more, his spent cock was resting against her leg with semen dribbling out of it. Any reasonable person looking at this photograph would readily conclude that they'd just had sex. I was ready to vomit at that thought, and I turned away.

Christine looked like a fish, her mouth moving up and down with no words coming out. She was speechless. "This can't be," she finally stammered. "I mean there's no doubt that it looks like me but I can't explain it. Nolan I swear, I mean I swear to Almighty God that I never knowingly did anything like what you see in this picture. I never had sex with any other man! Much less a criminal drug dealer! You've got to believe me!"

My world was shattered. Here we were faced with damning evidence that she had fucked another man who she claims never to have met.

"That's not all, there's more, I'm afraid," Justin added.

"More? What could be more than this?" She shouted shaking the damning evidence in her hand.

"There were two syringes found on the scene, Christine. One of them was analyzed and determined to have contained a knockout solution which would have rendered Deshawn immediately unconscious upon injection. The second syringe contained a solution of fentanyl, a super-potent synthetic opioid that took his life in less than a minute. Both syringes were found empty at the scene, and both substances were identified to be in his bloodstream. The small injection site on the side of his neck suggests that someone injected him with the knock-out solution to render him unconscious. After he was immobilized, the kill shot was administered which took his life. There's no way he could have injected himself with the fentanyl with the quantity of knockout solution determined to be in his veins. He was murdered and detectives are trying to identify the prime suspect," Justin explained.

"Okay, okay, I hear what you're saying, Justin," Christine urged, "but even though it looks like I was there, that doesn't mean I killed him, right? I don't even know the guy, never met him before, I swear it on my mother's life. It wasn't me that murdered him," she heaved.

"That's simply the strangest, most inexplicable thing, Christine. I pulled your fingerprints off your hair brush. They match the fingerprints on both syringes, not just one but both. There are only one person's fingerprints on both syringes, Christine, and those prints belong to you."

Christine abruptly sat down on the couch to prevent herself from passing out. She didn't know what to think. In a daze, she blankly offered, "I guess I have no choice but to go to the police and get this straightened out."

"And just what would you tell them, Christine?" Justin inquired.

"I'd tell them it wasn't me. I was never there, and I didn't kill anybody; that's what I'll tell them," she huffed.

"Just to be clear, let me get this straight," he began. "You say you never met this man, right?"

"Right."

"Yet, in your own hands is pictorial evidence that suggests that not only did you know him, you knew him intimately, would you agree?"

"I would say no but I do agree that it looks that way from this picture."

"You also say your red panties are missing, yet an identical pair was left on the scene with both your and his DNA from apparent sexual intercourse on them, right?"

"If that's what the report says," she added.

"And you say you were alone in bed at the time of his death, 4 am, right?"

"Right."

"Yet you have no witnesses whatsoever who can verify your alibi, correct?"

Christine looked defeated down at the floor. "That's right. Nolan was out of town. I was at home by myself."

"So basically, to sum it all up, you have no alibi; your DNA is present at the scene; it appears as though the two of you were sexually intimate; he was murdered; and your fingerprints are all over the murder weapon. Do you want to know what our detectives think? They believe that this woman was involved in a sexual affair with Deshawn, and lured him to the motel room for sex. Then, after having sex with him, rendered him unconscious and gave him the overdose to kill him for one of several possible motives, jealousy, money, drugs, cheating, take your pick. In their eyes, you had means, motive, and opportunity. We're talking a minimum of ten to twenty years in prison no matter how you look at it. They only have one big problem."

"What?" Christine asked inquisitively.

"They don't know who you are. The detectives on the case have your DNA, your fingerprints, and this picture without your identifiable face. They have no idea how or why this picture was taken and left at the scene, or who the woman is. It's almost as if this was a professional mob hit and someone is trying to frame you for it. You're in the clear, Christine, as long as they are unable to identify you."

Christine's eyes became as big as saucers. She was finally beginning to realize her plight.

Justin asked, "Right now, you have an even more pressing concern than the law, Christine, and that's Nolan. What are you going to do about him?"

"What do you mean? What about Nolan?"

"Well, he's been your husband for 5 years, and you made such a big production about waiting for marriage for sexual intercourse. Now he has seen damning evidence that you've already had sexual intercourse with another man. How do you think HE feels about you being with this man?"

"But I wasn't, I didn't. I mean I didn't have sex with that man no matter what the picture looks like. I know me and I would never do that," she vowed.

"It's not me you must convince, Christine. It's Nolan. No matter what you say, without any evidence whatsoever to the contrary, without a doubt, a jury would quickly convict you based upon everything you now know. Nolan is not a panel of 12 people. He doesn't need a jury. He will either make his own decision to kick you to the curb and divorce you based on what he's already seen, or try to work it out with you to save your marriage which hangs by a thread. But I can tell you this for certain; if you are convicted and go to prison, he will unquestionably divorce you. By the time you are released from prison, he'll be married to another woman. His children and grandchildren will never know you existed."

Christine was shocked to the core at the mere thought of such loss. To lose her freedom, her husband, and her future progeny simultaneously was unfathomable to her. She looked to me for encouragement or some kind of support. She found none. I couldn't even look her in the eyes. My pain and rage would have toppled her emotional stability if conveyed. She knew that she was in an impossible, dreadful situation, and could see no way out. The fleeting thought of taking her own life quickly passed through her mind. Justin was an exceptionally intelligent man. Perhaps he was aware of a way she might mitigate her present circumstances. But he was right, what about me? I was in a whirl about how I felt about my wife. It was as if Lydia's betrayal was being relived and the prospect of that was unbearable.