GTT

A short little ditty that gives new meaning to BTB. Read it with your sense of humor engaged.

GTT

"Vengeance is mine," sayeth Mike Lord

He is had watched his gorgeous wife work her way across the ballroom for the last thirty minutes, so that, with impeccable timing, she was as far from him as possible when the ball dropped at midnight. Surrounded by her rich, self-important peers, she would be passed around like a platter of hor d'ouevres, kissed on and felt up by all the executives where he worked, with special affection from his born-rich, imbecilic boss.

He knew this because his company's New Year's Eve party had played out just like this for the past two years. The first year, he let it go, attributing it to too much champagne. Last year, however, the clarion call sounded loudly and he began making provisions.

Feeling a tug at his coat, he turned to face Deirdre, Josephine's best friend and co-conspirator. "Happy New Year, Mike!" she exclaimed, reaching up to pull his head down for his annual pity kiss. He barely brushed her lips before pulling away and looking down into her brown eyes.

Deirdre was another society doyen, a trust-fund baby like his wife, from an even richer family than Jo's. He expected to see the little smirk she usually gave him, clarifying that she knew things he didn't because she was from the landed gentry; like his wife, and his boss.

Instead, he saw two new emotions: pity and concern.

"Mike, don't take this so seriously. She's just exchanging kisses, in the grand New Year's tradition. She'll be back in a little while, none the worse for wear, and she will show you again how much she loves you."

He looked at her skeptically.

Deirdre tried to reassure him. "She really does love you, you know. She's just very outgoing, vivacious and impetuous, while you -- you are intellectual and taciturn. Sometimes she needs a chance to be with others more like herself, but time with them only increases her appreciation for you."

"Okay, Deirdre. So that's why she spent all her time at her company's Christmas party under the mistletoe with her co-workers? We go to her Christmas party and she spends the night dancing with and kissing the top executives at her firm, and here tonight, at my firm's New Year's Ball, she spends all night dancing with and now kissing -- no, making out with, the executives from my firm.

"So by making out with everyone at the party except me, she is gaining new appreciation for me? Interesting concept!

"Tell me; is it another New Year's Grand Tradition to kiss George the Imbecile a dozen times? Or is that just her way of showing her love for me, since, you know, she knows how much I hate the little bitch?"

I'll give Deirdre this: she had enough compunction to be embarrassed. She could not hold my gaze, so she looked away, and tried again. "Mike, I see how upset you are, but you need to understand..."

"Really, Deirdre, I think I do understand. For the first time in our five-year marriage, I think I really do understand!"

I turned my back on her, returned to our table, retrieved and opened the briefcase I had placed under the table, and extracted a rather large, brightly wrapped package. With my back still to her, I pulled the ring off my finger and tied it in the middle of the bow she had to remove to open the package.

Turning back to Deirdre, I held the package out. "I'm going to leave now. Please give this to your friend when, or if, she tears herself out of the grasp of the men surrounding her. Tell her I said Happy New Year, and I hope she gets everything she deserves in 2020."

I turned to go, but Deirdre pulled at my arm. "Don't leave, Mike! I'll go get her; she's just had a little too much champagne again! You need to take her home!"

"No, Deirdre, I don't. She has a room here at the hotel. She's been here all day, entertaining men, while I worked. Of course, you know all that, because you've been here with her.

"She has her own car, her clothes, everything she needs. I'm certain that at least one of the gentlemen she's busy kissing will be more than happy to keep her happy. Or maybe they all will!

"Don't give me that look: you told me all the same lies last year. I gave her this year to decide: she has, and so have I. Goodbye, Deirdre. I can't say it won't be a relief to never see you again!"

As I made my way out of the ballroom, I nodded at Helen, the HR director with whom I spent the early part of the afternoon, while my boss and his cronies "helped set things up at the hotel." In reality, he was in the palatial suite he had reserved with the company credit card, pounding my wife.

Actually, I should have said 'they' were in the palatial suite pounding my wife. And I have the photographs and video to prove it! Helen does too, and the Chairman of the Board will within minutes.

After I exited the ballroom, Helen and her husband made their way to the crowd of men around Josephine. Deirdre was fighting her way through the horde of men, many of whom were insistent on kissing her, in the grand tradition.

A few tried to accost Helen, but they seemed to find the scowl of her husband, a former all-pro lineman to be discouraging.

She made it through the crowd to CEO George Burke and his paramour just before Deirdre did. She stopped her husband about six feet away, and watched. Deirdre's distraught look and shrill calling of her name caught Jo's attention, and broke George's embrace. She frowned at her friend's frantic look; Helen smiled.

Deirdre held out the gaudily wrapped present, and said something to Jo, who took the package, leaned closer, and seemingly asked Deirdre to repeat herself. "Mike left this for you! He's gone, Jo! He watched you flirting and teasing all night, and when you started kissing all these men, he gave me this package and left!"

Jo smiled. "Oh, you know Mike! He throws these little snit-fits when I neglect him for a few minutes. I'll go home, beg his forgiveness, fuck him silly, and all will be well.

He loves me! See, even when he's mad, he leaves my gift! Let's see what it is!"

"Jo, I don't think it's a gift..." Deirdre began, but Jo was busily untying the ribbon to open the package. When the ring hit the ground, he paused, frowned, and said, "What is that?"

George bent over, picked it up, held it out to her, and smirked, "Isn't this your husband's wedding ring?"

She stopped tearing at the paper, looked puzzled, and took the ring. She looked at Deirdre, who said, "I tried to tell you."

Jo began tearing the wrapping off the gift, and found a white gift box inside. Reassured, she smiled, shook the box, said, "It's heavy!" and began cutting the scotch tape on each side with her fingernail. When the tape on the third side broke, the contents of the box fell out and scattered across the floor.

She squatted in her knee-length gown so she could pick up the glossy sheets that had fallen. Others were squatting to pick up the ones that had sailed over near them. Suddenly everyone froze; Jo's eyes grew wide, and she screamed, "NO!"

He cry drew the attention of others in the area, and more people moved into their circle.

Deirdre's eyes were also wide in disbelief; she glanced up and saw the look of horror on George's face. He snatched the 8" x 10" glossy color photo at his feet off the ground, held it against his expensive suit, and involuntarily yelled, "What the fuck, Jo?" loudly enough that everyone in the proximity heard him.

All eyes went down to the photos lying all about, and saw Jo engaged in sex acts with persons not her husband!

There were numerous pictures of Jo and George, but also of Jo with other executives of the firm where Mike worked, and with Jo's co-workers and bosses. There weren't enough to cover the positions of the Kuma Sutra, but Mike had done a good job of selecting photos that proved Josephine wasn't averse to vaginal, anal, or oral sex, with men, women or toys, or any combination and number thereof.

Faced with a photo array of her sexual adventures, Jo fainted. She pitched over backward, and only hitting George's shoe kept her head from striking the tile floor and sustaining a likely concussion.

Deirdre knelt beside her, held the back of her head with her hand, lightly slapped her face, and frantically cried, "Jo! Jo! Are you alright, Jo! Talk to me, Jo -- are you alright?"

While the two women were on the floor, others began picking up the photos and looking at them. One woman then turned and slapped her husband as hard as she could while he was looking down at a photo he was holding. "You whoremonger! No wonder you can't keep me satisfied!"

He looked at her in stunned silence, until she swung her purse and caught him in the right eye; he clutched his eye, screamed in pain, and then crumpled to the floor when she kicked him in the balls with her closed-toe pump.

The woman knelt down and began systematically going through the photos on the ground; she paused, looked up, and declared, "You bitches that are married to the management of Taylor and Son might want to grab some of these photos and check them out. I see pictures of several other husbands I know fucking those two sluts!

"If you want to save on your divorce attorney, call me and I'll see if I can get us a group rate."

Nine other women knelt and began examining photos, and men began backing away.

"There are USB drives too!" one announced loudly as she held one up. "No telling what is on these!"

"You rotten cocksucker!" yelled a pretty blonde at a well-dressed older man, "Remember our pre-nup? I'll bankrupt your sorry ass!"

"Baby, I'm sorry! It didn't mean anything! She just kept hitting on me and finally I gave in, but it was only the once, and she wasn't nearly as good as you anyway, and..."

"Lying mother fucker!" the blonde screamed, holding up two more photos. In one, he was fucking Jo's mouth while George fucked her doggie; in the other, he was taking her up the ass while she rode another exec doggie.

The blonde popped up off the floor and advanced on him with murder in her eyes, waving the photos and cussing a blue streak. He retreated backward, then turned and ran when she got close.

Another woman was sobbing, clutching her breast with one hand and waving a photo in the other. Her husband had his hand over his eyes, and he too was sobbing.

A man retrieved a photo, held it in front of the gorgeous woman facing him, and loudly said, "You're bi? What the fuck? You damn tramp -- you told me I'd never get my threesome because you'd never be with a woman!" She flushed, turned, and ran away, tottering precipitously in her four-inch heels.

Another woman had picked half a dozen photos out of the pile, and was calling names as she walked toward the middle of the ballroom. A puzzled woman stopped her, received a photo, stared at it, and turned back to her husband with murder on her face. He began retreating, and she began trotting toward him waving the photo.

That scene would repeat itself five more times, and each time those around the aggrieved got an earfull and an eyeful.

***

Jo is awake now, staring at the scene around her with glazed eyes. A man in an expensive tuxedo knelt beside her. He asked, "Are you alright?"

She looked at him curiously and nodded. He asked, "Who are you? Can I help?"

"I'm Josephine Lord," she replied morosely, "but I don't think anyone can help me now!"

"You're Josephine Reynolds Lord?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded and asked, "I am; who are you?"

The man handed her a packet of papers he was carrying, took her picture with his phone, and loudly proclaimed, "I'm a process server; you've been served, Josephine Reynolds Lord!

"These papers detail and the enclosed photographs and videos prove the adultery alleged in Michael Morris Lord's petition for divorce."

He turned to the larger group. "Ladies, Gentlemen, if you didn't get to look through the photos, simply acquire a copy of the divorce documents, which are public records available online.

"The names of every human being with whom 'Jo the Ho' had sex over the course of the past year are listed, as well as where and when.

"For a nominal fee, I can provide a link to the Jo the Ho website that fully chronicles her exploits since January 1 of last year! If you would like to review them to determine whether your husband -- or wife - was involved in simple sexual relations, a three-way, four-way, or more-way, with the Ho, You can contact me online at cheatingspousePI.com - that's cheatingspousePI.com -- and, for that nominal fee, a link to her website will be provided.

"For an additional nominal fee, I can provide digital copies of the activities of a participant. You will find such evidence to be very helpful in court!

"I look forward to hearing from you!"

He bowed deeply and strode away, leaving tears, fears, and panic in his wake. He would catch hell for this stunt, but he was paid very, very well to do it! Besides, this was New York, and his office was in New Jersey, where his 'family' held a lot of sway.

***

Jo was still holding the divorce papers in her lap as she reclined in the arms of her friend, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. She looked at the faces gathered around her and saw hatred, pity, anger, and trepidation. The inescapable admiration, lust, and envy she had known her entire privileged life was entirely absent, and the enormity of her loss and disgrace finally sunk in.

She crumpled back onto Deirdre and buried her face in her friend's bosom, sobbing inconsolably.

George Taylor ordered his minions "to pick up those damn pictures and burn them!"

Looking directly at Helen, he ordered, "I want a letter of reprimand for Mike Lord on my desk Monday, and his termination papers under it!"

With a neutral expression, Helen stated, "I'm sorry Mr. Taylor, but Mr. Lord resigned this afternoon. He gave his two weeks' notice, using the leave you signed off on last week, took all his supplies and materials, and vacated the building."

"I will not accept his resignation -- I will fire him, after the reprimand! He'll never work in this business again!"

"Again, I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor, but he met with the chairman of the board before he left, and your father accepted his resignation. Mr. Lord already has another job, with one of the firms with which he was consulting... with your written permission, sir."

Taylor's face was so red those listening and watching feared he would have a stroke while he muttered loud curses at his father and Mike Lord.

Helen and her husband watched his consternation with glee, squeezing each other's hands in delight; while maintaining neutral expressions, of course.

***

Mike Lord was cruising out of NYC in the new 4wd Chevrolet High Country Suburban, powered by the optional 6.2 L turbo-diesel engine. He had special ordered the SUV in the fall, as soon as the new models came out, and had it delivered to him earlier in the afternoon.

OnStar said it would take 24 hours and 32 minutes of driving time to reach his new home in Austin, Texas via the route he had chosen. He knew it would actually take the better part of a week, because the country boy from Idaho was going to soak up the culture of the rural states he would traverse.

After he reached Virginia, he intended to abandon the interstates, travel the country roads John Denver sang of, and visit the small towns in Carolina that Mary Chapin Carpenter sung about. He would sample homegrown jellies and jams sold in roadside stands and small local businesses, and eat where the locals ate, far from the interstates and the hurried, harried people and lifestyle he had grown to hate.

Their checking and savings accounts had been divided, but only after he bought his SUV. Since she outspent him ten to one every month of their marriage; an $88,000 vehicle did little to even the score, but he took delight in using some of her money to buy it.

Under the terms he offered, he would keep his investments and retirement funds and she would keep her own. He was leaving her the penthouse apartment, and would not go after her trust fund IF she accepted his generous terms and signed the divorce papers within ten days.

The radio was on Sirius XM's best traditional country station, The Roadhouse. Jo loathed country music, as much as she hated the oldies; therefore, his next station would be Classic Vinyl.

He was his own man now, not the clueless cuckold she had made him for at least two years.

He had taken control of his life when the ball fell on NYE last year, and spent the entire year getting his shit together. Taylor and Son would possibly survive his departure, but he strongly doubted it.

Laboring under George's inept leadership, and deprived of the numerous design improvements and patents Mike had brought to the company over the past five years, he expected it to crash within a year or two.

He smiled at the thought, knowing that his work had been responsible for more than half the new sales and profits in the previous year, and that he had better designs and design improvements ready to launch as soon as his new company could gear up.

Oh, his old boss, the current chairman and George's daddy, Randolph Taylor, would likely sell the business off before it crashed, but George would be exposed to the world as the inept charlatan he is before that happened. Contemplation of that occurrence made him smile.

Tonight, he had exposed George and his own whore wife as immoral and unscrupulous derelicts of society. Over the next year, he would expose George's ineptitude as a businessman when his new company squashed his old like the bug that just got smashed on his windshield! Contemplation of which made him smile.

He wished he could be a bug on the wall when Josephine's parents learned about his stunt at the ball. Helen had already called to tell him how wonderfully it had turned out. Having her spill the photos all over the ballroom was beyond his fondest dreams, although he had rigged the box to collapse when the tape was cut on any three sides.

Her parents looked down on him from the start, and were dismayed when their precious, -perfect daughter chose to marry him. After all, he didn't even have an Ivy League education!

That an engineering degree from the Colorado School of Mines and a Master's from the University of Michigan made him highly desirable in his field meant nothing. Better a liberal arts degree from Brown than such a common pedigree! He smiled in contemplation of the destruction he had wrought, and of that he would produce in the future.

***

Deirdre and her husband Albert took Josephine home. As soon as they walked in and she looked around, Jo started sobbing again. She had been rehearsing her presentation to Mike on the way home. She would explain that her affairs meant nothing to her, nor did they damage their marriage. They were simply recreation, or efforts to influence decisions that affected she and Mike, to make their lives better.

The recreational fucking only helped them too, she would explain; it got her libido back under control when it was running wild, and she learned things she used to please her husband, to spice up their love life.

It sounded ridiculous even to herself, and she knew Mike would buy none of it. Truth be told, he was a true stick-in-the-mud when it came to his marriage vows. Even teasing about swapping or spicing up their marriage by roleplaying with others angered him. Why, then, would she think he would buy this crock of crap she was planning to sell him?

She knew in her heart that her marriage was toast, but walking into their apartment and finding all his things gone certainly brought the turkeys home to roost.

She sunk to the floor, weeping bitter tears, and cursing her own arrogance. She had no ready explanation for her actions because she never believed she would get caught, and, if she did, her sweet, naïve husband could be persuaded to forgive her.