Escalation Ch. 01

Payback for payback for payback . . .

An original story. Chapter 1 of 4.

I know that I usually write story continuations, but there's been enough clamoring, comments and emails encouraging me to write my own, that I figured I'd offer up a few. I don't think the trolls will care one way or the other.

I hope you enjoy this little story, and remember, it's only fiction.

For Information on how I choose which stories to continue, please read my profile.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"What the hell was that about?" I growled at her, as we pulled out of the driveway.

She was drunk, but not too much to give me shit, as usual it seemed. "God, you're such an ass, Marty. So I flirted a little, what's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? I have to work with those people. Now I'm going to have to hear about what a slut my wife is for the foreseeable future."

"Fuck you. All I did was dance with a few guys. Get over it." She loosed a beer belch that had me rolling down my window. If only her 'boyfriends' had been around for that one. Hot, huh?

I don't know where the recent disrespect had come from but I was sick and tired of it. "Dance? You were dry humping them on the dance floor. Sitting on guys' laps. They had their hands all over you. Shit, you were kissing that bastard Anderson on the porch! You know how much I hate him."

"I didn't kiss him, he kissed me. More than you've been doing lately."

"Like that's my choice."

"If you treated me a little better, maybe I wouldn't have to get my attention from other men," she sneered.

If you weren't a disrespectful frigid bitch, maybe I'd treat you better, I thought. "That's the last damn company function you'll be attending if you can't behave like a wife, and feel like you need to act like a complete slut. You humiliated me."

"Having you for a spouse is humiliating," she snapped back.

"Fine. We can end it if that's what you want, Sheri. I'll be damned if I'm going to have a whore for a wife."

"Works for me," she laughed. "Like being married to a loser like you is some wonderful deal."

I knew I shouldn't have started when she was soused. She would deny everything the next day. She was a mean, vicious, sloppy drunk, and I was sick to death of it. I wasn't going to let this one go.

When we got home I ignored her, and she collapsed on the couch. I left her there and went to bed. Something was going to change. I knew that much for sure.

~ * ~ * ~

She was still passed out on the couch when I went to work the next day. I didn't wake her up. In fact, I was very careful not to. I snuck out of the house when we usually did, and hit the office prepared to hear all about her outlandish behavior.

It was worse than I anticipated, which was pretty damn bad to start with. Pictures were floating around of her tits half out of her dress, getting mauled. One had her skirt pulled up in back, unknown hands on her ass, over her pantyhose miraculously. Another showed her making out with two different men including the asshole Anderson. I received them anonymously, and listened to the snickering all day. As you might imagine, I was not in a good mood by the time I headed home.

Walking in the door, I was greeted not by the woman I'd married, five years earlier, but the shrew she'd become in the last few months.

"Why the fuck didn't you wake me up!" she snarled.

"You don't want to be married to me, but you expect me to be your wake-up service?"

"What do you mean, I don't want to be married to you?"

"You told me you didn't want to be married to me. That having a spouse like me was humiliating, that you didn't want to be married to a loser like me. After making a fucking spectacle of yourself last night."

"God, you're such a jerk. You always have to exaggerate everything don't you? I had a few too many drinks, and you dump me on the couch, and sneak out in the morning without waking me?"

"Frankly, I'm sick of your behavior. You humiliated me last night. That's all I heard about all day at work."

"Bullshit. I had a few drinks; I danced with a couple of guys. So sue me."

I threw the pictures I'd printed out in front of her. "You acted like a complete tramp with the people I work with. This is what's floating around the office today. It's what I had to deal with."

She looked at the pictures, and I saw her start to get uncomfortable. Would she apologize? Promise to behave better, offer to drink less? Of course not. This was Sheri, my wife we're talking about. Maybe a year ago, but for the last few months any traces of the loving woman I'd married had disappeared.

"Looks like you work with a bunch of assholes who think it's cool to take advantage of a drunk woman. And you're another one for not protecting me." She glared at me, attacking like she always did.

"I tried to talk to you. I even tried to get you out of there early. You wouldn't hear of it. You were having too much fun, you said."

"And now you want to make a federal case out of it. Grow up, Marty. I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't have sex with them. All I did was flirt a little, and some of them got carried away. I went home with you didn't I?"

"For all that's worth. Not much surprise you didn't have sex with them. I think you've forgotten how. It's been over a month since you let me touch you."

"Well, I hope that one was good for you, because it's going to be a hell of a lot longer than that before I let you touch me again."

Yep. That was her solution for everything. If we had an issue, I was cut off. I was getting used to it. It was kind of sad, really, when you think about it.

~ * ~ * ~

Things had warmed up a little, at least I thought so. We'd gone out to a nice dinner, and shared a bottle of wine. She'd been teasing, but she came to bed in her usual, 'no-sex-tonight' pajamas. I tried cuddling up to her, but she pushed my hand away. "I'm too full, Honey," she said. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Tomorrow. Right. That's all I ever hear anymore," I growled rolling away from her.

"You're going to sulk now? Is that it? Did I hurt your precious feelings?"

"Three months, Sheri. It's been three months since we've had sex. Maybe you should see a doctor or something. This isn't natural."

"What? I'm sick now, because I don't want to have sex tonight?"

"Three fucking months." I got out of the bed, and pulled on my shorts. "I'm not going to stay celibate. If something doesn't change, I'm going to have sex one way or the other," I told her.

I headed out of the room, toward the guest room.

"What are you going to do, rape me? Is that your answer, big man?"

I turned in the doorway, glaring at her. "Are you kidding? Do you think I want to have sex with someone who isn't interested in me? There's more fish in the sea."

"If you leave this bedroom, don't be in any hurry to come back!" she shouted at my back.

~ * ~ * ~

Once a week, I tried. I don't know why I made the effort, but at least once a week, I made an overture. She shot me down every time. I kept sleeping in the guest bedroom, my iPad's Internet connection providing the inspiration, while my right hand provided the companionship I wasn't getting from my wife.

At the six month mark I dressed up to go out.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"We're not going anywhere. It's been six months since you've frozen me out. I'm going out. I'll probably be home late."

She looked surprised. "You've got a date?"

"No. But I'll be looking for warmer company than I find at home." It was meant to be a wake-up call. Honestly, other than the sex, things had been better lately. The problem was, I still wanted sex. I didn't think that was unreasonable.

"Two can play that game. I can go out and get laid easily enough," she snapped.

"Of course you can. But why would you? You can have all the sex you want right here at home. Nobody's denying you. It's me that's been left in the cold."

"And you wonder why, with this kind of behavior?"

I was tired of the arguing. "Six months, Sheri. I'm twenty-nine years old. I need sex. I don't understand why you don't. For four years, we did it at least two or three times a week. Now it's zero. Is there someone else? Is that the issue?"

"Fuck you, Marty! I've never cheated on you. Never! You have no right to insinuate otherwise."

"Fuck me? That's a laugh. Don't wait up."

I went to Murphy's with a couple of guys I worked with. There were still a few around the office I spoke to, even after my wife's previous effort at humiliating me. I ended up crying in my beer, lamenting my lack of a sex life. They talked me into going to a strip club. It wasn't my first, but it was just what I needed. They each bought me a lap dance. By the time I got out of there, I was $80 poorer, and a gorgeous Latina named Pilar had managed to get me to make a mess in my pants. Not too surprising, after doing without for half a year, Rosie Palm and her sisters excluded. I retreated to the restroom, cleaned up the best I could, and convinced my partners I'd had enough.

It was after 1:00 a.m. I was drunk and tired. That's the only excuse I have for my lunacy.

She was waiting up, in her 'I'm-available' nightie. I'd almost forgotten what it looked like. She looked me up and down. "It's after one o'clock," she said simply.

"Didn't figure I had much to come home to," I told her, leaning against the door-jamb to stay upright.

She approached me and took my jacket. "I didn't mean for it to go this far, baby," she said. "Let's go to bed, I've missed you."

I snorted. "Don't need it now."

She stared at me in obvious shock, as I staggered to the guest bedroom.

~ * ~ * ~

I somehow managed to survive work the next day, and came home to an igloo instead of a home. The atmosphere was so chilly I thought I'd get frost bite.

"I bet you're proud of yourself, aren't you?" she said coldly.

"For what?"

"Going out and getting laid last night. I waited up for you, dressed up for you, and you shot me down."

"How does it feel to be rejected? It's what I've been going through for the last six months on at least a weekly basis."

"I never cheated on you!"

"What a surprise! You've completely forgotten how to have sex."

She stomped out of the room, and I prepared myself some dinner. I knew there was no chance of getting fed when she was pissed at me.

She came down the stairs twenty minutes later, dressed in her sleaziest outfit. "Don't wait up."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Out. Like you."

"Are you packed?"

"Am I what?" she shrieked.

"Are you packed? 'Cause if you do something stupid, we're done. I'm fucking tired of your games."

She glared at me, and walked out the door, slamming it behind her.

I don't know what time she got home, but it was after midnight. I fell asleep on the couch, waiting for her, and when I woke around 1:30, she was already in bed.

Alright, I was suspicious. I even checked her panties. They were dry as a bone. What a surprise. I imagined if she ever did get excited she'd leak sand.

~ * ~ * ~

The next day she was quieter than usual. I did the yard work, and she called me in for lunch. She'd cooked up burgers, and had a beer for me.

I sat down, still more than a little pissed by her behavior. I was seriously considering seeing a lawyer about a divorce.

She sat opposite me. "Things are out of hand," she said softly.

"No shit."

"Don't you love me anymore?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't even know who you are anymore."

"Please, Marty. Let's not fight. I don't know how it got this far, but I want to fix it. Come back to our bedroom."

"Why? We might as well have twin beds. I sleep better in the guest room, and you don't have to worry about me nagging you for sex."

"I'm making an offer here. Truce. No more fighting. Let's go out tonight, have a good time, and share a bed tonight. Will you do that for me?"

I figured what the hell. I'd give it one more shot. If it ended up like our last nice dinner out, I'd start the paperwork on Monday.

Dinner went surprisingly well. I bought her a rose from a street vendor, and she hung on my arm as we walked out of the restaurant. I got a kiss on the sidewalk. "I've missed this," she said softly.

"Me too, baby."

When we got home, she took me by the hand and led me to our bedroom. She stopped me just inside the door, and started undressing me. She hadn't done anything like that in years, and I was hard enough to cut diamonds by the time I was down to my boxers.

She slid those down my legs, and got on her knees stroking my cock. Sheri looked up at me, then slid her lips over the head, for the first time in over a year. I groaned my pleasure.

After a couple of minutes, she pulled her mouth off, gazing up at me. "What do you want, baby? Should I finish you with my mouth? Or do you want to have your way with me?"

I grinned. "Can I choose both?"

The answer was yes. She took me in her mouth again, bobbing up and down on my cock, while her hand stroked me. After only a couple of minutes, my knees were feeling weak. "I . . . I'm gonna come," I warned her.

To my surprise, she didn't pull away. She stroked me through my finish, sucking and swallowing, for the first time in our marriage. I guess she was serious about making things better.

She stood when she was done, hugging me. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

I tilted her head up and kissed her, long and slow, unzipping her dress while I did. I slipped it off her shoulders, and moved away, so I could look at her. She was dressed in her best panty and bra set.

She was still beautiful. Not perfect, no. She was carrying a few extra pounds, but her tits were still amazing, and her hourglass figure was sexy as hell. "Like what you see?" she asked after a bit.

"I always have. You're gorgeous." I removed her bra and panties, and laid her back on the bed. I moved between her legs, and made sure she got as good as she gave, making her come for me after a while. She certainly seemed to enjoy it, and I wondered for a moment why she would deny herself that pleasure.

After she came, I was in for another surprise. She moved down and sucked me back to hardness. Twice in one night, that was new. Not having sex twice, we'd done that plenty enough, but feeling her mouth around my cock. I could get used to that. When I was hard enough for her, she reclined on the bed. "How do you want me, lover?"

I opened her legs, and moved between them. I entered her easily, and was soon pumping away at her, watching her beautiful response. "I love making love with you," I said.

"I know. We'll be doing a lot more of it, I promise."

~ * ~ * ~

She was true to her word. For the next couple of weeks, she never said no. We fucked every night. I got a blowjob four different times, with her new improved finish twice. After the second week we skipped a day, and she teased me that I was getting tired of her already.

"Never, Sheri. I could never get tired of making love to you. I just don't want you to think that I'm forcing myself on you every day."

"You're my husband. It wouldn't be forcing."

By the fourth week, it was still almost every day, including a very playful Saturday morning. I was romancing her again, sending flowers to her work, leaving her love notes, cooking her dinner.

Unfortunately, something came up.

She arrived home from work, and I was sitting on the couch. She smiled for me, and came over. She reached out to hug me, and I moved away. "Sit down, Sheri. We need to talk."

She looked confused, but sat. "What's wrong, baby? Bad day at work?"

"Very bad day." I pulled out the picture I'd received anonymously in an email. It showed her mouth full of cock, and another one in her hand. I couldn't make out who it was with her, it was a close-up. "Do you want to explain this?"

She turned red. "It happened. We're past all that now, right? Aren't things better between us?"

"I'm just supposed to overlook you giving some guys blowjobs!"

She glared at me. "You started it. You cheated first. At least all I did was give a couple of blowjobs."

"I never cheated on you," I told her.

"Bullshit. You went out by yourself, and came back home after midnight, stinking of perfume. You told me you didn't need sex. When I saw the condition of your underwear, I knew why. You could have cleaned up after fucking the slut, whoever she was."

"I didn't fuck anyone. Jack, Eric and I went to a strip club. I got drunk. I hadn't had sex in six fucking months, and I came in my pants. That was it. I didn't fuck anyone, I didn't get a blowjob, nothing!"

"That's not what Eric said," she snapped.

"What the fuck, Sheri? When did you talk to Eric?"

"The next morning. You were late getting to work, and he called to see if you'd even made it home. He told me that since you weren't getting any at home, you got it in the VIP room."

"That's bullshit. I got a fucking lap dance, out in the open. She rubbed her butt against my lap, and my damn fuse was so short, I lost it. That was it. It wasn't even as much as you did at the last company party, where you decided to humiliate me."

"Why would he lie to me?"

"I don't know. Why didn't you ask me about it?"

"Jack said the same thing, you know. They both said you fucked some big tit blonde."

"When the hell did you talk to Jack?"

She didn't say anything, and I had an epiphany.

"God damn it! You blew them both, didn't you? They told you a couple of lies, and that was enough for you to give them each a blowjob, when you wouldn't fucking touch me for six months."

"Don't yell at me! You went out without me. You went to a fucking strip club, for God's sake. All I have is your word you didn't fuck them, but you sure as shit acted like you did. You let some other woman get you off, and then when you came home, you told me you didn't need me!"

"So you went out and gave blowjobs to two of the men I work with? You didn't think to talk to me? You couldn't ask me about it?"

"I shouldn't have to ask you about it. If you hadn't gone out without me, and had some stripper get you off, we wouldn't be having this discussion, would we? You're lucky all I did was give them a blowjob. Hell, you got off at least. I didn't even get that!"

"So you did nothing wrong? That's what you're saying?"

"No, I didn't. It was your fault. Playing your stupid game of trying to get me jealous, telling me you were going to go out and get sex. I believed you. You shouldn't be surprised. You fucked around, so I did. Once. Now we're even."

"I didn't fuck around! I told you that. Even if I had, you did it with two different men. Men I have to see every day!"

"Maybe you'll think about that the next time you decide to cheat on me."

"I didn't fucking cheat on you. You're the only cheater here."

"I don't believe you. We're even. If you want to act like you did nothing wrong, you can move back to the guest room."

"No thanks. I think I'll just move out. I don't need this shit. I'm not going to stay married to a cheating slut."

"Go for it. You'll pay for it. I'll make sure you pay dearly, asshole. You started it, I ended it. If you can't grow up, and take your punishment like a man, then you might as well move out. I don't need your whining shit."

~ * ~ * ~

The lawyer told me I'd be paying her alimony, and even though she made half of what I did, and came into the marriage with nothing, she'd get half of everything. I'd fucking saved and scrimped to come into the marriage with almost $100K including a small inheritance. Most of that money had gone into a down-payment on our house. I'd bought it shortly after we got married, in my name, since she came into the marriage with lousy credit. Legally, it didn't matter that it was in my name, and that I'd contributed the entire down payment. It happened after we got married, which meant she'd likely get half of it. The rest of my money had gone into investments that were commingled with our earnings since then, which she'd also get half of.