Consequencies

A story of a man's descent into alcoholism and it's consequences

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Chapter 1 -- Beginnings

My name is Adam Biggs and I am an alcoholic! I'm in remission not recovering, one never recovers from this addiction. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with this illness, and make no mistake, it is an illness. It cost me my job, my marriage and my children before I finally accepted the truth about my condition and sought help. The price I paid was far too high and I wish that I could wipe the slate clean and start again.

At the time this all kicked off, I had been married to Alison for eighteen years and we had two wonderful children, Jane and Alistair, aged 16 and 14 respectively. I say kicked off, but I subsequently learned our problems went back further than that. Alison was and still is a beautiful woman. She is five foot six tall with dark auburn hair. When we first met she wore it in a pony tail, but after we married she had it cut short for speed and convenience. Despite having two children, she retained her figure, with only a slight thickening around her hips. We first met at school and I was attracted to her instantly. She had the type of figure that no matter what she wore, it always looked chic and elegant on her. When I first asked her for a date, I was spurned. Undeterred, I refused to give up and kept trying every couple of weeks until she finally accepted.

We started going steady, but not exclusive at first. She dated other boys and I never quizzed her about her other dates. I think the fact that I accepted that she dated other guys and didn't push her for details piqued her. I also had a few other girlfriends and I believe she must have been more jealous than me as she always seemed to find out who I was seeing and just how far the girl in question allowed me to go. She was right more often than not.

After leaving sixth form, Alison attended a stage school in London. She had the ambition and talent to be an actress and that was her goal. Her course was scheduled to last for three years so we parted as friends. It was to be five years before our paths crossed again.

I, on the other hand remained in our home town and started work as a trainee salesman in the service sector. It was mostly boring but I learned the basics of selling and after a few years, moved on to work for a major HGV Distributor called PACKERS Goods Vehicles or PGV for convenience. About this time I was still living at the home of my Uncle John. My parents died in a major pile up on the Motorway when I was twelve and my uncle and aunt took me in and cared for me. They were a childless couple and I grew to love them both as they loved me.

Sadly, my aunt died of cancer when I was twenty and Uncle John started drinking more and more heavily. Fortunately, he had some good friends who helped him to steer him off the self destructive path he was on and he stopped drinking almost overnight.

I was good at my job and soon started to move up the ladder. Selling Goods Vehicles is hard work. A sales man has to know his customers very well and coupled with this, he also needs to understand their business. PGV was selected as the launch dealership for a new Goods Vehicle manufactured by Volvo. My boss offered me the chance to develop the whole sales programme, who to target, prepare the launch promotion and organise the whole thing. Most of the planning was pretty easy, Volvo would provide all the promotional material, the trucks and most of the budget, all I had to do was deliver the sales!

The main launch plan I developed was a sort of track day, but instead of fast cars, we would have two of the new wagons on static display and two more available for our customers to take out on the track, ungoverned. I proposed to let our customers try them out and to give them the chance to have a thrash flat out round the circuit. My boss accepted this plan, but wanted some models to decorate the static vehicles and tempt the customers to stay on and enjoy the day. Sex sells was his motto. I struggled to find a company that could provide suitable models, then, I remembered Alison. We had kept in touch and even dated on occasion when she was at home visiting her parents. We got on well together, but the trouble was her career was London based and she was reluctant to give up her lifestyle. She had attended Stage School and her ambition was to be an actress. She had yet to make the breakthrough and was still confident that she would. She freely admitted she was struggling to make a living as an actor, but modelling had helped to supplement her earnings. I contacted her and explained my problem. She told me to give her a couple of days and that she would get back to me. She did better than that and was on the phone the next morning with costs and told me she was emailing me some photographs of models for selection.

That afternoon I had a review meeting with my boss and was able to present him with the complete package and budget projections. He reviewed the presentation and gave me the go ahead on the spot. The promotion went like clockwork and the models were a great success with our customers. Scantily clad models draped over and behind the wheel these huge articulated lorries kept the punters interested all day. It took a few months but the orders for the new vehicles soon started to come in.

Alison and I spent a lot of time together planning the event and before long became an item. As our feelings deepened and passions mounted we started to explore each other's bodies more intimately. Her breasts and ears are particularly sensitive and once I had discovered this, I exploited it to the full. Almost straight away, I discovered that she was an adventurous lover and quite the exhibitionist, I guess it was the actress in her. She loved screwing where there was an element of risk attached. We did it in the car, parked in our local lover's lane. We did it once on the beach during a weekend getaway and even in a gent's toilet on the promenade. That last time we did get caught and two elderly men got quite an eyeful. I tried to stop and pull out so we could compose ourselves and escape, but she just wrapped her legs around me and refused to stop until I exploded within her. She also had a massive orgasm and as we disengaged, made sure the two old gents got a good view of her pussy and the residue of our loving slipping slowly down her inner thighs. Once we had dressed we made a hurried exit but not before Alison stopped and kissed them both on their cheeks. I think they were so shocked at what they had witnessed, that they could only stand there flabbergasted! I could not get enough of her and we continued much of our courtship in the same vein. Two years later, we got married.

We set up house together in our home town but she continued to work and had some success in TV commercials. Things were starting to look up for her when she got cast in a daytime TV soap as the bitchy, opinionated catalyst that provides the other actors a foil to work against. Then she got pregnant with Jane! She was at a loss to understand how as she was on the pill, but the doctor told her that the only sure method of birth control was total abstinence, even the pill was not full proof. Alison was worried that the soap producers would cancel her contract, but to her surprise they wrote her pregnancy into the storyline. Her part suddenly started to grow as did her belly, they even wanted to record the baby's birth, but I stopped that in its infancy. I think Alison was disappointed with me but didn't push it.

After Jane was born, Alison pegged back on her career. She committed herself to being a fulltime wife and mother. We settled into life of domestic harmony that was to last for the next four or five years. During this time, Alistair was born. We were now the complete family. Alison was a good mother and her love for our babies shone through. She was the one who got up in the middle of the night when they were little, well most of the time anyway. She would spend hours with them, teaching them to pronounce words and reading stories to them from the dozens of children's books we had.

When our youngest, Alistair started at school, Alison approached me and told me that she wanted to return to work. We discussed the ramifications. My concerns were that our family life would suffer. Actors work some funny hours and could take them away from home for long periods. Alison assured me that she would only consider roles that she could fit in during the day and not involve any overnight assignments.

We agreed to give it a try and Alison contacted her agent. He was delighted that she was resurrecting her career and she soon had auditions to attend and she picked up some work doing voice overs for commercials. True to her word, during those first couple of years, Alison was always there for us and we were a happy close knit family. Our sex life was about as good as it gets. We made love four or five times a week and rarely had any arguments.

Chapter 2 - Changes

The first signs of change came around eight years ago. Alison accepted a role in a new play. The issue was that the theatre was in London and meant long days during the rehearsals and commute times added meant that she was out of the house before seven in the morning and returning well after seven in the evening. We could live with that during rehearsals but once the play opened, to great success, she was absent from our lives till going on midnight most nights. The travel was just too much, so she made arrangements to stop overnight at the flat of one of her fellow actresses. At first, she would only do this once or twice a week, but gradually over the next weeks it got that she was away three or four nights a week. Her contract allowed her one day off every week and that became our lifeline, but the strain was telling on our marriage.

Our sex life was now virtually on hold and even though we all travelled up to London every other weekend to spend some time with her, Alison was getting harder to communicate with. Meanwhile, I had two young children to care for in addition to my demanding job. Her mother was a godsend, she came over every day with an evening meal prepared and was there when the kids returned from school. I drifted into the habit of having a couple of drinks every night. The kids were not alone in missing Alison!

The event that triggered my suspicions that maybe she was being unfaithful, was the awards season. They are traditionally held in early January each year and this year was no exception. You know the kind of thing, when the TV, Film and theatre crowd get together to pat themselves on the back. Alison was nominated for an award as supporting actress and she phoned and asked me to accompany her to the dinner and ceremony. I thought this was a great chance to try and mend bridges, so I arranged for her mother to babysit and joined Alison at her shared flat. I showered and changed into my penguin suit and then waited until Alison was dressed to join me. She looked absolutely fabulous and my erection was quite painful. I complimented her on her gown and she hugged me, but when I tried to kiss her, I was rebuffed with, "I've spent ages on my makeup, please don't spoil it for me."

At the dinner, I was introduced to Michael Adams, the play director and some of the cast. Also at the table was Marcus Ward, the producer and a couple of others. Marcus was a big man around six feet tall and around fifty five years old I would have guessed, but he was running to fat now and looked even older. The dinner and the awards went on and on, but finally it was over. Alison duly won her award and thanked everyone and his dog for their help and support throughout her career. I guess I was the only one to notice that she made no mention of me or our children, who probably made the biggest sacrifice of all and that hurt. She re-joined me at our table and accepted the kisses and hugs from everyone seated at the table or nearby. No restrictions on kissing now she was pretty enthusiastic now, all thoughts about disturbing her makeup long forgotten. I felt as though I was being deliberately ignored, so I helped myself to the abundant bottles of wine on the table.

Eventually, it was time to leave. I was impatient to get back to the flat and keen to strip that gown off her. I wanted her so badly, but Alison insisted we had to attend a party that the producers of the play were hosting, so I hid my disappointment and reluctantly tagged along. The alcohol was flowing at the party and I was introduced to so many people that I lost track of the time. I was drinking steadily and needed to relieve myself, so I found the toilet. Unfortunately, there was a queue and as I stood there behind two striking young ladies, I overheard them talking about Alison.

One said, "Of course, I heard that she only got the part because she was prepared to spread her legs for the Marcus Ward and his backers!"

The other woman giggled and said, "Well good luck to her. My friend went out with him and told me he liked rough sex. She said she could hardly walk or sit down for days afterwards, so she'll earn every plaudit she gets. Here's another bit of gossip I heard from a contact in the theatre told me that he keeps her at his beck and call and she can never get her day off to see her kids. He insists that she be available to service him whenever the mood takes him. It's her husband I feel sorry for, he's at home looking after the kids, while she fucks around on him."

I was struck dumb, they must be mistaken! My Alison would never cheat on me, but as I struggled to digest what I had heard, a little imp in the back of my head kept whispering in my ear, that what I had overheard would account for some of our problems. I tried to dismiss it, but it was to remain a persistent irritation every time I looked at her. I escaped from the queue and went outside for some fresh air and peed in the bushes, trying to decide what to do with the information I had overhead. I was more composed when I returned to the party and went to find Alison. I soon found her at the centre of a group of men including Marcus and the four other co-producers. She informed me that these were some of the backers of the play. I tried to keep myself under control, if just some of the backers turned out to be four men, how many more were there and how many did she have to fuck to get the role?

The conversation was a little stilted and Marcus Ward in particular seemed ill at ease in my presence. I wondered if he had a guilty conscience. I was tempted to confront her there and then, but I had no proof and after all the gossips could be wrong. I decided to maintain my silence and Alison asked me to get her another drink. That gave me an excuse to leave their company. I thought I saw a look of relief on the producer's face's as I left them.

I got another drink for Alison and after I had handed it to her with a quick signal that I wanted to leave soon, but she shook her head and turned her back on me to continue her discussion with her admirers. I felt left out and abandoned once more, so I sought solace at the bar. In short, I drank myself legless before nodding off in an armchair. It must have been an hour or so later that I was jerked out of my sleep by a kick to my shins. Alison was ready to leave and clearly disgusted with me. Me, I was still too drunk to care.

The next morning things were icy, no that's wrong, they were Artic! I tried to apologise for my excesses of the evening before, but she called me a drunk and accused me of ruining her big night plus a lot of other things besides, none of them complementary. I wanted to talk about our marriage but clearly that wasn't going to happen that day. She stormed out the flat and said, she would talk to me when she returned. She never said where she was going.

Sometime later, I got a call from her mother telling me that Alistair was poorly, she thought it was appendicitis and she was so worried, she had asked the Doctor to call. I told her that I would catch the next train home and packed my overnight gear. Before I left, I tried to call Alison on her mobile, but it went straight to voicemail, so I wrote Alison a short note explaining briefly my reason for my early departure. I never expanded on what the problem was with Alistair, just that he was unwell. Let her do something for herself, I thought, if she really cared for us anymore!

When I got back, two hours later, Alistair was in the City Hospital and undergoing an Appendectomy. Alison's parents were there as was Jane. We greeted each other with hugs and my mother told me he had just gone into surgery. The surgeon had told them that the prognosis as good, Alistair was young and fit and that there was no reason for undue concern. Alison's parents asked where Alison was and I said simply, "I have no idea! I tried to call her several times from the train and had to leave messages each time."

Her mother got out her phone and tried to call her daughter with the same result. After what seemed like ages, the surgeon came out and told us the operation went perfectly and that we would be able to see Alistair in an hour or so when he had recovered from the anaesthetic.

A couple of hours later, we were all sitting round his bed chatting when Alison stormed into the ward looking like she was ready to slay anyone who impeded her. She wasted no time berating me for not telling her that her son was ill and would not listen to hear any responses. Her father grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly out of the ward telling her to get herself under control. I moved to follow them, but her mother stepped in front of me and said, "Best leave it to her father, son. You are like a son to both of us and maybe a few home truths from her dad will be more effective this time." I could see the sense in that and turned back to reassure Alistair and Jane that their mother was just strung out with the pressures if her work.

Ten minutes later, a contrite Alison came in and apologised to everyone for her behaviour. Her concern for Alistair had gotten the better of her. She hugged Alistair and after finding out that he was getting better, proceeded to regale everyone about her triumph at the awards ceremony. Visiting time was over in a blink and we departed. When we reached the Foyer there stood Marcus Ward obviously waiting for Alison. I said nothing and brushed past him, I guess I now had the truth of the rumour. I waited in the car with Jane while Alison stood talking animatedly with her friend Marcus. I watched as she turned to leave him, but he pulled her round and they kissed goodbye, not that unusual, but she had kissed him on the lips!

Alison joined us in the car and acted as if there was nothing untoward about what we had just witnessed. Jane was clearly upset and challenged her mother about the kiss. "What's with you and him? That was more than a thank you kiss!" She said pointing at Marcus. "Are you and Dad getting a divorce or separating?" she asked.

Good question, I thought as the same one was on my lips as well and I had heard the rumours. Jane couldn't have any knowledge of the rumours so her question was very perceptive.

Alison replied, "Of course not, I was thanking Marcus for bringing me all the way from London today."

"When are you returning to your job? I ask because I think Alistair needs you here at this time." I asked her.

"I'll stop over tonight and return tomorrow afternoon in time for the evening performance. He's out of danger now and I'm sure you and Mum can cope until he gets out of Hospital. I'll arrange to take time off during his convalescence." She replied.

I was really pissed off with her reply and let my anger get the better of me. "You are something else, you know that!" I exploded.

"Our son is still in Hospital and all you can think about is getting back to your fucking career! Maybe, just maybe, you will want to reflect on that decision because if you don't there will be consequences that neither you nor I can control or foresee!"