Fateful Lunch

January 23rd was a cold, rainy Thursday in Atlanta, but the miserable weather couldn't dampen my spirits. I had just finished having lunch with my new business partner, Richard Whitlow, and my Dad. Richard was an old army buddy of my Dad's and now he was our new partner in a joint venture that could very well take our family business to a new level.

My Dad started this business soon after he returned from Vietnam. Armed with a contractor's license and a dream, he rounded up a few of his army buddies who had some construction skills and started building custom houses. Over the years, the business grew and transformed from a one-man show into a mid-sized regional home builder. By the time I graduated college and came to work for him in the mid 90's, it was a multi-million dollar contracting business with both a residential and commercial division.

My dad always believed in working hard and he did his best to instill a strong work ethic in all of us children. I can remember going to work with my Dad when I was really small and by the time I turned fifteen I spent all of my summers working on one of his work crews until the year I finished college.

When I graduated from college, I started working for my Dad full time as an architect and design engineer, but my dad still insisted that I spend at least a few weeks each year actually working on a jobsite. Over the years, I worked my way up the ladder, finally becoming the President of Trident Corporation when my Dad semi-retired a few years ago and I still spend two weeks every year working on jobsites. He kept the title of CEO so that he could still come into the office a few days a week when he needed a break from my mother.

Through the years, my brother and sister have also joined the business and now, my brother Jack is the VP of engineering and my sister Karen is the CFO. We still have a division that develops and builds residential communities, but the bulk of our profits come from our commercial division where we design and build factories and warehouses and multi-use developments with condos and shopping and parking structures.

Now, with this new joint venture, we are going to be able to leverage our construction expertise with Richard Whitlow's real estate knowledge of Florida and the Caribbean. The plans call for building several patio home communities with a total of four thousand homes targeted for retirees on a little over fifteen hundred acres that Richard wants to develop just north of Orlando.

But the part that interested me the most was the opportunity to get involved with Richard in the construction and management of several high-end luxury resorts. These would be built on properties that he had bought when property values dipped following the damage caused by a major hurricane that decimated the Eastern Caribbean about ten years ago.

Richard's real estate company owned properties in the Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico, and a private island in the Bahamas. The problem was that Richard had tied all of his cash up in purchasing the properties and now he didn't have the resources to develop the properties. So, our deal called for us to absorb Richard's business into ours in exchange for some cash and a twenty-five percent ownership stake in the combined business for Richard's daughter, Jackie, who was in the process of taking over for him.

Our first resort would be in the Dominican Republic, which we will manage with the help of Richard's daughter who brings years of real estate and property management experience to the company. If this first resort works out, the plans call for additional resorts on the other properties Richard owns in the Caribbean.

I had known Richard and his family since I was a kid. Richard and his first wife, Helen, were best friends with my parents and we were always hanging out with them. We spent a lot of time with the Whitlows, having cookouts, holiday parties, even vacationing together for a number of years. All of us kids spent a lot of time listening to Richard and my Dad telling stories about their time in Vietnam together.

But my favorite memories of the Whitlow's involved their daughter, Jackie. The same Jackie that I would now be working with on a daily basis. Jackie was a bit of a tomboy growing up and we loved exploring the woods and creeks behind her parent's house. Jackie would even play catch with me when I first started playing football.

Then, before I knew it, tomboy Jackie turned into sexy, teenage Jackie with long shapely legs and these incredible breasts. That's where this new business arrangement becomes a little awkward, because when we became teenagers, Jackie and I learned about sex together, nervously experimenting with each other.

She was the first girl that I ever kissed and the first girl that ever let me touch her pussy. In return, I let her stroke and suck my cock. With all of this experimenting, it didn't take long for us to lose our virginity to each other in the basement of my parent's house.

When Richard and Helen divorced, Helen got custody of Jackie and they moved back to Charleston, where Helen's family lived. Richard moved to Florida with his new girlfriend, and through the years had built a fairly large real estate brokerage, buying and selling properties all over Florida and the Caribbean.

That's how this latest venture came about. Richard was recently diagnosed with cancer and only has about eighteen to twenty-four months to live. After his diagnosis, he reached out to my Dad with this idea he had to merge our two companies.

Like Richard, Jackie was a whiz with real estate, but she knew nothing about constriction. This venture was Richard's grand plan to make sure that he could die knowing that Jackie was positioned for success for many years to come. I couldn't help but wonder how Allison, my wife, would take this if she ever found out about the history that Jackie and I shared.

Richard and my Dad had left to go see another old army buddy of theirs before Richard headed back to Orlando, leaving me to take care of the bill. After paying, I was walking out of the bathroom, thinking about all of those afternoons in the basement when Jackie would bring one of her dad's Penthouse Forum magazines and we would act out the stories that we read when I heard a laugh coming from the bar that I recognized.

It took several seconds for me to find her, but there was no mistaking that laugh. Hell, I'd been married to her for the past twenty-two years. I scanned the entire bar area before I spotted her sitting at the end of the bar, next to a large wooden pillar that partially blocked her from view.

Allison had started her own catering and event planning business about five years ago. She had told me over breakfast that she had a meeting today with Kevin Richardson, a client of hers who was in town from Chicago to work on the plans for a corporate event his company was planning when the Super Bowl came to town in a few weeks. He must be the guy sitting next to her at the bar.

I had never seen her at work and I have to admit that I was more than a little curious to see how she interacted with her clients. So, I walked around the bar and slipped onto the stool on the other side of that big wooden pillar, being careful that she didn't see me.

After listening to her conversation for a few minutes, I was getting a little angry. She was being way too flirtatious for my taste so I pulled my cellphone out and hit record, sliding it around the side of the wooden pillar to make sure that it picked up every word.

We would definitely be talking about this over dinner tonight and this little recording would be my proof if she tried to play it off. I was about to get up and introduce myself to her friend to throw a little cold water on the situation when I heard something that changed the game.

"So, Allison, how about we head back to my hotel after lunch?" Kevin asked. "I'm not planning on flying back to Chicago until tomorrow, so I have the entire afternoon free and I can't think of a better way to spend a cold, rainy afternoon than tangled up with you in my bed."

"You just don't give up do you?" Allison asked. "Didn't I tell you earlier that I couldn't do that? Like I said, I'm a happily married woman and I'm not going to do that to Rob."

"Oh, come on Allison. You were married when I was here a couple of weeks ago and it didn't seem to bother you then. Hell, I'm pretty sure you had a really good time with me then."

"Maybe so, but I told you that was a mistake, a drunken mistake that could never happen again," Allison said.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Keven asked. "You keep telling me no, but I can see it in those beautiful green eyes. You want it as much as I do, you're just putting up this fight to help ease your conscious. That's cool, I get it. But, trust me, five minutes alone in that room and all of your guilt will be gone and you'll be begging for more."

"Oh God! You are so bad!" Allison said with a little laugh. "But, as tempting as it may be, I just can't take the chance of Rob finding out. I told you last time that it was a one-time thing. I got away with it once, but I'm not willing to risk my marriage for a few hours of naughty fun."

"You need to just relax and quit being so paranoid," Kevin said. "Rob knows you have a client in town, so he knows that you're tied up all day. Plus, it's only 1:00. We can go back to my room for two or three hours of amazing sex and you'll still have plenty of time to get home, take a shower and have dinner ready before he gets home from work. There's no way he'll ever know, so what do you say?"

At this point, I had heard enough. I got up, grabbed my phone, and stepped around the pillar that separated our barstools and stood between them, offering my hand to Kevin. Without thinking he took it, not recognizing me and thinking he must know me from somewhere. "Good afternoon, Kevin," I said. "You don't know me, but I'm Rob Lawrence. You know, the husband of the lying slut sitting next to you."

By now, he realized his mistake and I could see the terror in his eyes as my large right hand fully enveloped his small delicate hand and began squeezing harder and harder. The whole time Allison was begging, "Baby, please let me explain. I promise It's not what you think."

Kevin was now struggling to pull free of me, but it was futile given that I had a vicelike grip developed from years heavy labor on construction sites as a teenager and lifting really heavy weights from the time I played football at Clemson. With his hand completely lost in mine, I used my six-foot three-inch frame as leverage and leaned into him, pinning him against the bar as I continued tightening my grip.

When he moved his left hand to try and break my grip, I instinctively grabbed his crotched with my left hand and began squeezing his privates with all the strength I could muster. I could see the tears forming in his eyes as the pain increased from both his hand and his testicles.

He was beginning to thrash around a bit when I felt something snap in his hand, so I released his damaged hand and testicles before turning my attention to Allison. By this time, my anger was really beginning to boil as I yelled at her, "so my dear, what do you say? Are you going to go back to this assholes room and fuck his brains out like you did the last time? Don't worry, he promised to get you home before your clueless husband finds out."

The whole time, Allison just continued sobbing, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"No, you fucking whore! You're not sorry. You're just sorry your lying, cheating ass got caught!" I growled.

Suddenly, I realized that there were probably a hundred eyes staring at me and the scene I was making. So, I took a few deep breathes and got my emotions under control before leaning close to Kevin's ear and whispering, "As for you, asshole, you need to thank God when you get home. Do you know why?"

"No," he answered nervously.

"You need to thank God that I didn't really lose my temper here. But if I ever find out that you have so much as spoken to my wife again, I won't be so controlled the next time. Do you understand what I'm saying?" I asked.

As he shook his head to indicate that he did, I continued, "That's good, because I have literally hundreds of guys working for me that would gladly find you and dish out whatever measure of misery I tell them to administer and it would probably only cost me a few hundred bucks and a case of beer."

"Listen, I don't want any trouble. You have my word, I will never touch, speak to or even look at your wife again," he said.

"That's good to hear. So, I suggest that you get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about taking it easy on you today."

Kevin Richardson didn't need to be told twice. He got off the barstool, as best as he could with his testicles still screaming at him in pain, and wobbled out the door. With Kevin taken care of, I then turned my attention to Allison.

"Now as for you my whore of a wife, why don't you just FUCK OFF and GO TO HELL!" I screamed as I turned and walked out of the restaurant and got in my car.

I had no idea what I was going to do about all of this, but I did know that I had no intention of seeing or speaking to Allison tonight. So, as I drove home to pack a bag, I called my executive assistant, Jessica, and had her book me a room at the Hyatt for the next few nights. When I hung up with Jessica, I decide to silence my phone to avoid the constant stream of calls from Allison which had already started.

Once at home, I packed enough clothes to last me a few days and then headed back downtown to check into my hotel. After checking into my hotel, and unpacking, I realized that it was getting close to time for dinner. I didn't really have an appetite, but I really needed a drink, so I walked across the street to a neighborhood bar to have a few drinks.

I don't know how long I was there before she arrived, but at some point, a very attractive brunette walked in, sat on the barstool next to me and ordered a Manhattan. "So, are you in town for the human resources conference?" she asked.

I wasn't immediately sure who she was talking to, but when I realized that we were the only two sitting there, I answered, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were talking to me. But, no. I'm not here for the conference. I live here. But I take it that you're here for the conference?"

"Yes, I was supposed to fly home tonight, but apparently this system that is bringing the cold rain to Atlanta is bringing quite a blizzard to Boston, so my flight was cancelled." She took a sip of her drink and continued, "I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Rachel," she said as she extended her hand.

"Hi Rachel. I'm Rob," I answered, shaking her hand.

"Well, Rob, what brings a handsome, married man like yourself out to a bar in this kind of weather on a Thursday night?" She asked. "I would think that someone like you would be home having dinner with your family."

"You know Rachel, that's exactly what I would normally be doing except that at this moment I can't stand the thought of being in the same house as my cheating wife, much less the same room."

We continued talking for the next few hours as I bought her several more drinks. As the evening wore on, the flirting got pretty thick and she made it obvious that, in spite of the ring on her finger, that she was available and willing to spend the night in my hotel room helping me forget my problems. Apparently. She and her husband had some kind of don't ask, don't tell agreement when it came to what happened on business trips.

By around midnight, we were both pretty drunk and she was getting a little "handsy" when someone climbed onto the barstool on the other side of me. "Rob, honey, can we please talk?" I heard Allison ask.

Before I could respond, Rachel spoke up, obviously not willing to let a whole evening of flirting go to waste. "Listen lady, I don't know who you are, but why don't you go find your own man because this one is mine or at least he's mine for the night."

My alcohol addled brain was still trying to process the whole situation as Allison barked back, "no honey, this one actually belongs to me! In fact, he's been married to me for the past twenty-two years and the last time I checked he's still my husband!"

Suddenly, my rage returned and cleared the fog from my brain as I grabbed Rachel by the hand and headed for the door. We were about ten feet away when I stopped and turned back to Allison and yelled, "you know, you have some nerve coming here. You certainly didn't care that we were married while you were fucking that asshole behind my back. Now, suddenly you care? Well Fuck you!"

Allison stood there, speechless, as Rachel and I left the bar and crossed the street hand in hand. As we entered the front door of the Hyatt, I looked back one last time to see her standing on the curb in front of the bar watching. Once inside, we headed straight for the elevators.

By the time the elevator doors closed, Rachel had her hands around my neck and her tongue in my mouth. For the next ten floors, we made out like a couple of horny kids until the doors finally opened and we hurried down the hall to my room.

As soon as I closed the door, Rachel began unzipping my pants and fishing my cock out. After a few strokes, she dropped to her knees and began licking my shaft before wrapping her lips around my cock and gently sucking while her tongue continued to swirl around the tip.

After bobbing on my cock for a couple of minutes, Rachel stood and started pulling me towards the bed. Somehow, I was able to collect myself and stop her before this went any further. "I'm sorry, but I just can't do this," I said. "You are so beautiful and sexy and tempting. Hell, I want this so bad that it hurts, but I just can't."

"I'm not sure I understand," she said. "You seemed okay with this a few seconds ago."

"I know, it doesn't make sense to me either, but I just can't. As much as my wife hurt me and as much as I want to do this to sooth my bruised pride, I know it's wrong. Listen, I'm not judging you. Hell, I don't know what kind of understanding you and your husband have about your marriage. But, when I got married, I vowed before Allison and God that I would forsake all others. And even if she didn't, I plan to honor my word, at least until the divorce is final."

"Well, if that's how you feel, I'll go," Rachel said. "Just know that you are passing up the best sex your life."

I watched as she closed the door on her way out thinking that somehow, I'm sure she was right. Everything about her exuded sex and I would probably kick myself in the morning for letting her walk away, but I knew that I couldn't live with myself if I let her stay.

Sleep came hard that night. I tossed and turned and replayed Allison's conversation with Kevin Richardson over and over in my mind all night. Nothing made sense to me. Allison had always been a good wife. So, what the hell happened? Why would she do something like this? Was she unsatisfied, or bored, or did she not love me anymore?

Finally, around 5:00AM, I gave up on sleeping and decided to shower, get dressed, and head into the office. My office was my sanctuary. When the kids were growing up, it was the only place where I could be alone with my thoughts. I could close the door and sit on the sofa in the corner and just think and sort out whatever life was throwing at me at the time.

That's exactly what I was doing when I finally decided to pull my phone out of my briefcase and check my messages. I waited and waited as it pulled up all the missed messages. By the time it finished, I saw that I had thirty missed calls from Allison from the day before, three from my son RJ from last night, and two from my daughter Carly this morning.