Fade Away

The messages from Melissa and Jack were all about the same, with increasing levels of concern, about my whereabouts. Doreen and I decided that I would call Melissa, tell her that I had been mugged, and had been taken without I. D. to a clinic, and that I would be home in an hour or so. I placed the call. Melissa sounded frantic when she answered the phone, and relieved. I cut the call short.

Doreen and I kissed; not a full-blown passionate one, but not just a "good friends" kiss either. "I need to remain true to Melissa until our plan plays out," I told Doreen.

"That doesn't surprise me," Doreen said with a big smile. "Once it does play out, however, I'm going to fuck you to death," she chuckled.

"Woe is me," I dramatically replied.

"My only concern is if you can act properly with Melissa in a way that doesn't raise her suspicions," Doreen said.

"That's my major concern too," I replied, "given how emotional I am. But you've given me the courage to do it since I know that there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I'll find a way," I said with a determined look on my face.

Doreen smiled, we exchanged one more quick kiss, and I was off, first to buy some Plan B pills and a burner phone at the pharmacy, and then home.

Melissa and her parents were bordering on hysterical when I got home. My appearance gave them no reason to doubt my story about the mugging since my head injury was real, my clothes dirty and disheveled, and my hair a mess. I had hidden my wallet in the car and would pretend that I had to get new credit cards and a new driver's license since they had been stolen, although thankfully my car keys had not been.

Having Melissa's parents there helped. I may have not been able to pull it off if they hadn't been there since my anger boiled to just below the surface when I saw Melissa; but I remained relatively calm and played the disoriented victim to the hilt.

Considering her activities on Saturday, I was really quite surprised that Melissa appeared very sincere in her concern for me, and there is no doubt that she had not slept the night before. She looked almost as bad as I did. Her parents decided to stay overnight. After Melissa and I showered and had a dinner that her mother, Carolyn, cooked we more passed out that went to sleep. My skin almost crawled as she lay her head on my shoulder, but I sucked it up and within minutes I was in never-never land.

Over the next three weeks things progressed basically as Doreen and I planned. Doreen was as diligent as anyone that I have ever seen in accomplishing her tasks. After two luncheon meetings with her there was no doubt in my mind that I should have married her instead of Melissa. All my old feelings for her returned in spades, and I was blown away by her devotion, competency, and efficiency.

There was much to do, and things were complex. Since I was having difficulty in interacting with Melissa I wanted to stay on schedule regardless of many minor setbacks. In order not to raise suspicions, and to accommodate her enhanced libido, I even had sex with Melissa eight times. Each time I fantasized that it was Doreen, and the morning after each session I crushed up a Plan B pill and included it in the breakfast that I "lovingly" made for Melissa, and watched her to make sure that she ate it before I left for work. There is no way in the world that I wanted a child with her!

It sounds strange considering how horribly upset and devastated I was when I witnessed Melissa's cheating, but three Saturdays after that terrible event I was hoping that Melissa would be cheating again. I needed her to be in order to execute my plan.

Using the burner phone that I had purchased at the same time as the Plan B pills I called Doreen first thing Saturday morning to insure that everything was on track. It was.

I kissed Melissa for the last time as we parted on Saturday morning at the Country Club, she to go to her "golf lesson," and me to swim. I tracked down Jasper, got his pledge not to ever tell anyone that he had told me about Melissa's cheating or that I witnessed it three weeks earlier, and gave him $10,000 in cash.

After a delay of about twenty minutes more I surreptitiously removed the "Do Not Disturb" sign from Massage Room A and made sure that the lock was still broken and that Melissa and Jeremy were inside. Then I enlisted the help of the director of the Club training facility and the head golf pro, ostensibly to find Melissa, frantically telling them "I have a real emergency!" I maneuvered the other two so that the head golf pro opened the door to Massage Room A.

As expected there was assistant golf pro Jeremy fucking Melissa doggy – again I noticed a condom (thank God for small favors). The head golf pro blurted out "What the fuck," the director of the training facility gasped loudly, and I yelled "Melissa!"

The copulating couple looked at us with completely startled and chagrined faces. Melissa screamed. Jeremy quickly pulled out his cock and tried to pull up his pants, which were bunched around his ankles.

I got a totally distraught look on my face – not hard to do considering the circumstances and certainly not requiring any acting on my part – and then turned and ran, sobbing. The sobbing was an act, although inside my heart was bleeding. As I exited the area of the training facility I heard the head golf pro shrieking at Jeremy.

I quickly drove home and left my already prepared note with my wedding ring on the kitchen table. I also left my regular cellphone there since I did not want to take the chance that it could be used to track me. I had had the LoJack on both my car and my laptop computer disabled two weeks earlier. My laptop computer and a suitcase with the only possessions that I valued (some mementos of my parents), and a few changes of underwear and socks, were already in the trunk of my car.

My note read: "I loved you more than life itself. I can't live with your betrayal! God save my soul!"

I don't know how Melissa got home so quickly but she got there before I left. I would rather not have seen her, but in may actually have worked out for the best as far as partially satisfying my need for revenge was concerned. Melissa was genuinely panic-stricken. She kept grabbing me, I kept pulling away. She kept trying to make eye contact, I avoided it. She yelled things like "Going off the pill made me too horny," "my hormones are all screwed up," "it was just sex," "I made him always use a condom," "I need to have your baby," and "what will my parents say if you leave me?"

The only thing I said in response to all of her hysterical rants was a genuinely emotional choking reply to last question. "Tell them that you killed our love, and me." There were tears in my eyes as I pushed her away from me then ran out the door.

One part of my revenge required me to act on Monday in order to insure that it was complete since for most institutions money transfers can't reliably be confirmed on the weekends. Doreen rented a hotel room in her name in a busy part of town, and I parked my car at a remote part of another hotel lot about a block from the one that she and I stayed in Saturday and Sunday nights.

Although Doreen and I slept together and were affectionate during our two nights in the hotel, we didn't have sex; I needed to ostensibly "die" before that could happen – but knew that it would be passionately over-the-top once that occurred.

Pursuant to our plan, I changed my appearance as best that I reasonably good in the time available. Doreen cut my hair much shorter than I usually wear it, dyed it blond and styled it differently. I put on blue contacts to hide my normally green irises, and plain plastic lens glasses. I applied a fake professional blond mustache that looked entirely real; and I wore clothes that Doreen had purchased for me that were vastly different than the type that I normally wore.

Doreen and I went to movies Saturday and Sunday nights in a theater adjacent to the hotel, had most of our meals room service, and went over our plans again and again so that we knew every detail by heart.

Monday morning I made electronic transfers of the assets worth approximately $12,000,000 in Melissa's trust fund that I legitimately had complete control over to six different charities that Doreen and I had obtained all of the necessary electronic transfer information for. Five of the transfers went through – the sixth did not and there was no time to try and get information about another charity, so the five transfers would have to do. One of the six charities was one that Doreen had set up several years ago and which she still had operative control of.

After we made the transfers, and got confirmation that they had been completed, Doreen drove me to my car. That's when there was a major glitch in our plans.

I underestimated the resolve and influence of my father-in-law. Apparently he had virtually every law enforcement officer in the city looking for my car because when we got to it there was a squad car sitting right next to it, with a policeman inside the squad car. We needed my car because it had been specially modified to execute the major part of our plan.

We had made some contingency plans, including purchasing a disguise for Doreen, and a back-up disguise for me. Doreen's nimble mind immediately came up with a solution. She put on her disguise, ran up to the squad car, and frantically told the officer "There's a guy in the hotel lobby with a gun.

The policeman immediately got on his radio and then laid rubber driving from the remote area of the lot that my car was parked in toward the front entrance of the hotel. As soon as he was out of sight I ran to my car, hopped in, and Doreen and I took off for the remote coastal mountain road where I had modified the guard rail.

As I drove to my "suicide" spot, with Doreen following behind me, I pushed a button on my laptop which sent off all of the emails that Doreen and I had carefully written over the past three weeks. The emails were staged so that one would be sent every few minutes. It took about an hour for us to get to our desired location, and by then all of the emails would have been delivered.

Doreen did a great job of crafting the emails while still using some of my catch phrases, and other writing idiosyncrasies, so that it would appear that they came from me, yet were much more succinct and effective. The emails basically said that I was too weak a person to overcome the betrayal occasioned by my wife's extramarital sex, and apologized for ending my life without personally saying goodbye. The emails included statements of the pain and anguish that I felt much more effectively than I would have been able to execute – although the statements did 95% accurately express my real feelings.

The email to my father-in-law, Jack, was most poignant. I apologized to him that my need for both suicide and revenge was so great that I breached his confidence in me by emptying Melissa's trust fund, and hoped that he could find it in his heart to eventually forgive me.

The "suicide" spot had been carefully selected. There was a sheer drop-off from a mountain road to a part of the ocean that had severe but constantly changing undertows. Any but the most ingenious investigator would conclude that no one could survive the fall off the cliff, and that the person's body might never been found, and certainly there was no way to accurately predict where it might end up if not beaten to smithereens by wave and rock action, or consumed by sea creatures.

A few days earlier I had put acid on the bolts at one part of the guard rail at the "suicide" spot, and then another material that could simulate natural corrosion. My car had been modified so that by remote control the accelerator rod within the engine compartment would be thrust forward, but when it reached its end of travel would actuate a small explosive device that would likely destroy it.

Doreen and I parked our cars on the shoulder of the road at the suicide spot. We looked with binoculars until we were quite certain that there were no other vehicles within sight. Then I positioned my car so that it was facing the guard rail and about thirty meters away from the area where the guard rail bolts had been weakened. I actuated the remote control so that the vehicle accelerated. There was just enough momentum when my car hit the weakened guard rail to break through and fall off the cliff, landing in the ocean hundreds of feet below.

Doreen and I had also disabled the driver's side airbag of my car and had impregnated the part of the leather-wrapping on the steering wheel where my head would hit in an accident with my blood and tissue. We also put my fresh blood on the steering wheel leather wrap, but had impregnated it to be sure that some would remain in case the fresh blood was washed away by ocean wave action. The car windows were open, and the seat belt not attached, and my wallet was loose in the car so that it would be sure to float out of it at some point, and hopefully would be retrieved by divers.

As soon as we saw the car hit the water, we got into Doreen's car and took off. We drove four hundred miles away that day, and four hundred more the next, paying for everything with cash, until we got to an initial destination city where Doreen had made arrangements to pick up a document helping to establish my new identity.

We spent the first two whole days and three nights at our initial destination city in our hotel room. This time we weren't just ordering room service; we were fucking each other's brains out.

I expected my traumatic experience with Melissa to stifle my sexual abilities for a while. In actuality, the opposite was true. It was in large part due to Doreen's absolute devotion to me – as she clearly demonstrated by the excellent planning and execution of my escape – and how sexy she was.

I quickly found out that not only had Doreen become slightly better looking over the last eight years, but that she had become significantly more passionate. So much so that our first time together I broke from my normal tender love-making and we fucked each other's brains out. After that we alternated between gentle loving and animalistic fucking, more times in two days and three nights than I thought was humanly possible – at least for me. After this period of constant fucking, fingering, tonguing, toy action, and sucking, we had to take a break. We were both completely sore and barely able to even walk or pee without pain.

Before we left our hometown, Doreen had obtained a certified copy of a birth certificate from a child by the name of Alex Simmons. Alex was born in a rural area without computer records just a year before I was, and had died shortly after his birth. At our initial destination city, using a photograph with my new appearance, we purchased a customized counterfeit Australian passport in Alex Simmons' name. Doreen had determined that Australian passports were some of the easiest to forge, and two weeks ago had located an expert forger in our initial destination city.

My counterfeit passport was perfect; it even had fake trip stamps to and from Thailand and two other Asian countries, a fake stamp indicating entry into the U. S. a month ago, and a "broken in" look to it. It would readily support my story that I was a native American who had moved to Australia as a child and was now returning.

With my new birth certificate and passport in hand we leisurely drove to our final destination city on the opposite coast from our hometown. We made a point of fucking in every state that we traversed, even if it was for just an hour in a Motel Six. When we got to our final destination city we rented an apartment and finalized plans to start our new life together.

I had already transferred the money that I had inherited from the offshore account in Brent Willis' name into a new offshore account in the name of Alex Simmons. Using my birth certificate and the Australian Alex Simmons passport I was able to set up a U. S. bank account and transfer some money from the offshore account into it. Within six weeks I had a driver's license, credit cards, and every other normal piece of identification one would expect. Within six months Alex Simmons had a U. S. passport.

During our trip escaping my former life we regularly checked in with Doreen's parents, and also checked Internet sources for stories about Brent Willis. Things were grim for Melissa.

Within a week of my "suicide" my car had been retrieved from the ocean using a barge with a crane, divers had found my wallet, and almost everyone I knew had been interviewed and my financial records combed. Since in the three weeks before my "demise" I had only gotten $30,000 in cash, all in transactions that seemed mostly legitimate and not actual cash transactions, since that was not an unduly high amount considering my lifestyle, and since there was absolutely no activity of any kind in any of my bank, credit card, or brokerage accounts, it was assumed that I was dead.

My "death" was confirmed shortly thereafter by scientific testing of my vehicle. Technicians recovered my blood and tissue from the leather wrapping on the steering wheel. The clumsy (intentionally clumsy on my part) disabling of the driver's side airbag in my car plus my suicide note for Melissa and suicide emails to all my acquaintances, left no doubt in the public's mind that I had committed suicide.

From everything that I had gathered, public condemnation of Melissa and Jeremy was extraordinarily harsh. Of course Jeremy immediately lost his job and all indications were that the head pro at the Country Club would make sure that he never got another golfing-related job anywhere in the United States. He was reported to have left town within a week of being caught with Melissa.

Melissa was a pariah in high society circles. She even suffered the indignity of being expelled from the Country Club, even though she would certainly have resigned on her own. Attempts by local reporters to interview her were unsuccessful, and there was no indication that she ever left what used to be our condo.

One unfortunate part of the execution of my plan was what it did to Jack and Carolyn, Melissa's parents. I always knew that they liked me, but I didn't realize that they loved me as a son. One quote from Jack in the city's biggest newspaper reduced me to tears. "Our loving son is dead, betrayed by his wife. Please respect our privacy and let us grieve for our terrible loss."

Doreen and I had just started our new life in our apartment when Tom and Lydia informed us that there was going to be a memorial service for me, arranged by Jack and Carolyn. Although it was still long before I could legally be declared dead, there was no one who didn't believe that I had committed suicide. Doreen decided that she would attend the service, and flew back from our new city to our hometown.

When Doreen returned I could tell that she was holding something about the ceremony back from me. She tried to be flippant about it, but I wouldn't have it. After a couple of days of me pestering her, in tears she told me about how awful it was. People that I didn't really recognize cared that much about me apparently did; it was a very solemn event. Jack broke down several times trying to deliver a eulogy, which had to be finished by his brother. Carolyn looked like death-warmed-over and quietly sobbed throughout the entire service. Melissa was not in attendance. She was reported to be in a mental health facility. Not only would no attempt be made by Melissa's family to recover the $10,000,000 that I sent to charities from Melissa's trust fund, but the family gave $2,000,000 more – the amount that I intended to send but wasn't able to – to another charity in my name.