Doing Time Ch. 02

In fairness we had four years of married bliss. The sex was fantastic, and she could cook.

Bloody hell --- what a combination. We'd been so busy in bed that we were almost married before I even found out what a great cook she was.

When we went anywhere, no matter where, my beautiful Angela just got better and better, quite the middle class wife that she strove to be. Within two years it was her that was pushing me to keep up with her in her quest to be 'someone' in the local society.

I regretted nothing. I loved her, and loved the sophisticated woman that she was becoming.

I loved the looks she got from other men when we went out, and I loved the looks of envy that I got as well, for having such a lovely woman on my arm.

How could life get any better?

What could possibly go wrong?

--------------

Stupid ............. Bit hard maybe.

Simple .............. Maybe.

Naive .............. Yes! --- I think we've just about got it there.

I had no experience of life in this mode. I didn't know the real way the world worked.

Beyond all, I had no idea whatsoever, quite how ambitious my darling loving bloody damn wife was.

That was the problem!

Once we announced our marriage ____ made it public, then the 'powers that be' decided that having a husband and wife working together that closely just wasn't on.

No problem for me, and in fairness to her at the time, no problem for Angela.

But the powers that be?

God bless the powers that be!

One of us had to be transferred, and pretty clearly it couldn't be me. So Angela bless her heart had to find another job, either inside our company or elsewhere. They didn't rush her, and eventually we decided that it would be better if she spread her wings a little, and looked outside.

Much I suspect as when I had first interviewed her, Angela had no problem whatsoever finding another place. On top of her natural beauty, she had by then become a well dressed, well spoken attractive young executive type.

Three interviews ---- three offers.

What a surprise??? ---- Not for me.

Angela decided to join Partridge Enterprises, one of the biggest companies in town, and a few weeks later, started as the personal assistant to the financial director there.

I forget his name --- I never met him, and no --- don't jump to the wrong conclusion ---- Angela didn't end up having an affair with him. Our life continued quite blissfully, and our marriage prospered. We even started to think about children. Angela had always been keen on having some kids, but not till she had made some mark in her career. She had moved well on from being a simple secretary by then, and genuinely deserved the title of P. A.

We put the kids thing on hold, but promised ourselves that it would not be for too long.

Another year or so passed --- a year of loving and cuddling and kissing.

Then she came home one night full of excitement.

If only I had known?

"Guess what?" My wife asked me as she put her things down.

""You're pregnant," I replied, more in jest than anything else. Though we had been taking more risks than we normally did.

"No silly boy," she responded. "I've been promoted. Next Monday I start as the PA to the boss of the company."

"The boss?" I queried.

"Yes the boss-man himself. Stan Partridge, the guy who owns the company."

"Crikey." I couldn't think of anything else to say. Stan Partridge was a big wheel in that area, and a self made man who had made his fortune and was often in the newspapers.

Stan Partridge himself ----- I could hardly believe it.

It did actually make a difference to our life. Firstly Angela got a big rise, by which time she was earning almost as much as I was, which was good.

She became more of a genuine PA as well though, and being a big wheel it meant she had to spend more time at work.

That wasn't so good.

Quite often Angela had to stay late, sometimes very late, and once or twice was obliged to stay away for the night.

Warning bells? ........ No not at all. Maybe I'd forgotten to tell you that Stan Partridge was sixty-two years old and so was no threat to me or our marriage. Besides Angela never changed during the two years she worked for him in any way that I could discern.

She didn't dress any better or sexier.

She didn't change the way she made up.

She didn't reduce the amount of our sex together, and for that matter didn't increase it.

Well --- that last item wouldn't have been so easy really.

In fact, she was so bloody gorgeous anyway, that it would have been difficult for her to have changed that much.

No!

Life was fine, and continued to be so. Kids were still at the forefront of our mind, but we decided that they would come when they came.

-----------

It was early spring. I remember it because the daffodils were in flower. Angela and I had just spent the week-end down in Devon in a little hotel that we'd found sometime before. We'd more or less made our mind up that if we didn't commit ourselves to having children soon, then we were in danger of missing the boat. Not really, but neither of us wanted to be middle aged when our kids were still studying.

We were nearly there. Almost decided. Virtually committed.

Angela declared that she would, honestly soon would, come off of the pill altogether.

It was a great weekend, and we came back after it deeply in love.

I thought.

I still think we were.

That Monday evening Angela was due to be back very late, as she had to go to some meeting or other. Apparently Stan the man himself was busy somewhere else, and she had to stand in for him.

I was proud of her ----- I really was. Especially when I thought back to how she had been when I had first clapped eyes on her, first interviewed her just a few years before. She really had moved on in the world.

I had nothing else to do that evening, so when Joe one of the other managers at my place asked me if I fancied a drink after work, I saw no reason to refuse. We went to the local and sat there fairly quietly, supping our beer as we talked about our lives.

Poor Joe.

His wife was a bit of a bitch ---- always nagging him and complaining about something, not like my Angela.

He was a little envious of me ---- well of course he was --- most of them were.

Three pints of Adnams, and we both decided we needed something to eat. Beer gets you that way.

Normally it would be off for an 'Indian', but the evening was still young so we decided to try out the local hotel and see what their carvery was like.

It was good.

No honestly it was good.

We sat there enjoying our after meal cognacs, when Joe suddenly sat bolt upright in his chair.

"Did you say Angela was working late at her office tonight Jim?" He asked me.

I nodded. "Yes, won't be home till after midnight."

"Then who is that over there then?" He demanded, indicating the other side of the dining room.

I smiled, but humored him, glancing over to the far corner, taking in the small group that had just entered the large room.

A woman and three guys.

Ah yes ----- Easy mistake, and even I could see the resemblance.

The woman had a lovely slim figure, nice shapely long legs from the high heels she wore, up to the hem of the short black cocktail dress that came to an abrupt halt half way up her thighs.

Angela of course didn't even own a dress like that.

Besides, the woman's hair was ..... a mass of tumbling dark red tresses.

And the cute little turned up nose.

And the huge green eyes.

And .....

Oh Christ no!

My stomach started to knot up. What the fuck was my wife doing there.

Of course there was an easy explanation.

It was easy.

Nothing to worry about.

No really, honestly! Nothing to worry about.

She was no doubt entertaining some clients for Stan in his absence.

So why the hell was Stan there by her side?

So why did bloody Stan have his arm around her waist?

Why was he cuddling her tightly up against himself, and why wasn't Angela pushing him away?

"Bloody hell Jim," whispered Joe through the haze in my brain. "That bastard's getting a bit familiar with your Angela isn't he?"

What do you say?

What do you say to a pal when he asks you why your wife is canoodling with another man, unaware that you are there watching her?

What do you say when he says "Bloody hell Jim" when he watches as your loving wife reach up and kisses that other man. Kisses him in the same intimate way that she normally kisses you.

The same way that she'd kissed you that morning.

If only the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

If only you weren't there.

If only ......

"Careful Jim," Joe warned me as I rose from my chair. "That's bloody Stan Partridge and you don't want to mix with him."

No choice!

Man or mouse ---- I've never really liked mice very much.

By the time I'd crossed the room and started to get close to them, I had the pleasure of watching Stan cup my wife's breast in his hand and make some ribald remark to his friends.

Bastard!

At least Angela looked embarrassed by it, though she made no attempt to push his hand away.

Cow!

"What's going on?" I shouted at them as I stood there in front of them.

"Who the fuck are you?" screamed Big Stan in my face. I'd met him before, but just the once and I obviously hadn't made much of an impression on him.

Angela's face lost it's colour, as big Stan and I confronted one another.

One of the guys with Stan started to edge me away from him, but I refused to be budged.

"Get you're fucking hand off my wife's tit," I screamed at him. I guess I couldn't have been more direct.

He didn't.

The bastard simply slipped his hand inside the top of dress, and made a great show groping her bare breast.

Not a guy to be intimidated wasn't Stan.

"Is this Jim?" He questioned my wife, looking down at her.

She nodded in agreement, unable to look up to meet my eyes.

Stan looked at me --- scrutinized me. I could see his brain working.

"Fuck off Jim," he eventually said to me threateningly. "We're here on business; just go away and stop bothering us."

I couldn't believe it. Just fuck off and leave my wife --- my wife mind you, with him to do whatever he had planned.

And the bastard was still fondling her breast, even while we stood there confronting one another.

"Jim," said Angela at last, in not much more than a whisper. "Better if you push off. Don't worry ---- I'll see you at home later on --- please honey"

What would you do?

Come on now.

What would you do?

Well I'll tell you what I did --- I took a swing at the fucker.

I gave him no warning, and he may have been years older than me, but I just took a swing at him.

The next thing I remembered was lying on the floor wondering how the hell I had got there.

Strange!

The group of them towered over me, laughing at me as I lay there. Except Angela --- at least she had the decency to look upset.

It was only later that I discovered that Stan was a black belt at Judo. Something about Dan's third man or something. Though who the hell Dan was, I never discovered.

Joe and one of the waiters helped me to my feet. My last sight of the four of them was as they waltzed out of the restaurant, Stan's arm still round Angela's slim waist, claiming her for his own.

She at least had the decency to glance back at me as she left, but what was the nature of her look.

Pity, contempt, compassion, love, hate, disinterest.

Who knows?

To this day, I still don't know.

------------

I waited at home, but I waited in vain.

Eleven O'clock, twelve --- one in the morning. I had worked out what I was going to say, then changed my mind ten times or more.

But it was wasted ---- all wasted, as I realized that she wasn't coming home!

----------------

I woke up with a start wondering where I was, unsure to begin with why I was slumped on the sofa.

Then it came back to me.

The awful realization that my life had changed forever ---- that nothing would ever be the same again.

A blackness descended.

I wanted to cry, but fought to hold it back, my mind a muddle of mixed emotions, my brain fighting to come to grips with my terrible memories of the previous evening.

Why me?

How could she?

Did I still love her?

Too many questions.

There was a ringing sound. The door, the front door. Was it Angela who had come back to me?

No!

She wouldn't ring.

"Yes, what do you want," I asked the tough looking guy stood at my front door, wondering where I knew him from.

"I've come for Angela's things," he informed me, as if I had no say in the matter. But at least I remembered where I knew him from, recognizing him from the previous evening.

"If she wants her things then she can come and get them herself," I told the toughie, who then made to push past me into my house.

I threatened to call the police, and he had second thoughts, trying to stare me down.

"We'll be back," he threatened, as he turned on his heels and withdrew.

First round to me, but did I really stand any chance in the long run?

Did I care?

Of course I bloody well cared. I loved Angela --- she was my wife and the dearest thing that I possessed.

Wrong again ----- Quite clearly she simply wasn't mine any more.

---------

It was two days later that Angela eventually turned up on our doorstep, with big Stan and the other guy, who was some sort of bodyguard in tow.

I would have preferred to have left them outside, but wasn't given the option.

"That's it then is it Angela?" I asked my wife as she stood unhappily in what had been our lounge.

"I'm sorry Jim," she replied with a catch in her voice. "I didn't mean it to end this way honestly."

"Well it doesn't seem I have any choice in the matter do I?"

"Please Jim, please understand," Angela pleaded with me. "It's not that I don't still love you Jim, but I just need to move on."

"First Alf, and now it's my turn is it?" I asked, but got no answer.

At that point I lost it. I can be a bit tempestuous at times as you may have gathered, and I lost my cool.

"Well fuck off you bleeding cow," I screamed at her in temper. "And don't waste any love on me, because I hate the damn sight of you."

"Oh Jim," she whimpered and promptly burst into tears, her sobs wracking her lovely body as she cried aloud.

I couldn't do it.

Sorry but I couldn't just stand there hard hearted and watch her crying like that, and my heart broke along with hers.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms round her, protecting her, trying to make it all better, and Angela, my sweet Angela collapsed into my arms.

It was a mistake.

The next thing I knew big Stan was tugging her from my arms, and his sidekick was pulling me away from her. Angela was desperately trying to cling onto me, but the combined efforts of the other two were too strong.

I felt Angela being torn from my grasp, and heard her cry out in anguish.

Shoving the other guy from me, I rounded on Stan, who pushed Angela off to the side and confronted me, a sneer of disrespect on his face.

"Leave him alone Ted," Stan ordered his acquaintance angrily. "I need to teach this tosser a lesson in manners."

Stan confronted me, not even deigning to bother to take up any form of stance, convinced that I offered no serious physical threat to him.

"Please don't hurt him Stan," cried Angela. "You promised you wouldn't."

I told you I was impetuous --- prone to doing things without too much regard to the consequences. I found my left hand wrap round a big glass vase on the table. It had been a wedding present from a group of friends from work. Whatever, I took a huge swing at him, aiming for his head.

Stan ducked easily, avoiding my attack.

"Pathetic little bastard," I heard him comment.

But he wasn't quite as quick as he thought he was, and I bought my right fist up in a perfectly timed uppercut, straight to his exposed chin.

It was a cracker ---- an absolute peach!

I actually heard his teeth click loudly together as the sudden force of my blow snapped shut his jaws, even as he finished the word 'bastard'.

For the briefest moment he stood there tottering, his eyes staring straight at me, a look of utter astonishment on his craggy face.

Then his eyes glazed over, and he crumpled, his legs giving away under him as he fell backwards like a dead weight. There was a crack as his head struck our fireplace, and then Stan lay there, not moving, not even groaning.

Euphoria!

I'd won, the victor of the battle.

I'd defeated my enemy.

Destroyed him!

I suddenly remembered the other guy, what was his name again --- Ted?

Why wasn't he interfering, getting involved, taking me apart for whacking his boss?

Why was he simply standing there staring, looking down at the crumpled figure at my feet?

Why was Stan still not moving?

Why didn't he at least groan ----- or something --- anything?

And why was that trickle of blood coming from his left ear, leaving such a big sticky red pool on the carpet?

------------------

The ambulance arrived a few moments before the police. Who had called them I didn't know. I suppose it was Ted.

I just sat there waiting ----- nothing else to do.

Angela sat there right beside me, her head in her hands, sobbing steadily, and occasionally mumbling, "Why did I do it? Oh God what a fool I have been?"

------------------

The next few weeks, months even were a jumble, and I lost all interest in myself or my wellbeing.

My life became a mismatch of half phrases and sentences, and the rest just passed over my head.

'We are arresting you for the murder of .....

Anything you say may be used in evidence ........

This interview is timed at eleven thirty. Present are Detective Inspector Buckley and .....

I swear by almighty God to tell the truth .......

How do you plead --- Guilty or .......

Answer the questions Mr. Merchant. You must answer the questions.

Members of the jury, you have heard ......

Court is adjourned till .....

All rise ........

Members of the jury, have you reached a decision?

GULITY!

You are hereby sentenced to twelve years at her majesty's pleasure.'

It didn't go well for me.

The trouble was so many people had seen me take a swing at Stan the night before, and then there was the heavy glass vase that I had used.

Called it a deadly weapon they did. I wouldn't mind, but I never even hit the bugger with it.

I guess the caution that I'd got when I was a teenager for hitting some guy didn't help either.

My own fault for acting before I thought about it yet again.

Oh well, at least they reduced the charge from murder to manslaughter, and I only got twelve years ----- out in seven or eight for good behavior with any luck.

Could have been worse.

--------------

As I said the first few weeks or so were awful, but once I settled in and learnt to keep out of trouble, then it wasn't so bad.

Angela never came to see me, but she did write every week for over a year. Never knew how she managed to fill her letters though, as I threw them away without so much as opening them. It dropped off a bit after that, and then not surprisingly I got notice that she was divorcing me. Couldn't blame her of course, and a short time after that, the letters dried up completely.

Doing time, inside a prison plays funny tricks on your mind though, and it was only when the letters stopped arriving that I realized how much I missed her. Despite everything, how much I still loved her.

Did I say loved her? I meant hated her, detested her.

Oh bloody hell, I didn't know how I felt.

How would I?

The end

-------------

-------------

-------------

It was then that I thought about writing, to see if I could do as well as others who's works I by then regularly read on the Literotica site. The above story was the first I tried my hand at, and it was well received, not getting very high marks, but lots and lots of comments which I really appreciated. Some were completely stupid of course, but I even grew to be able to smile at them.