Her Roommate Returns! - FTDS

After closing that screen, I selected the third bedroom feed and ran it back to the time they entered from downstairs. I soon realized Clark was nothing special in the physical sense. Angie went after him exactly like she did with me. It made sense, but it's not something you imagine. Hell, you torture yourself thinking that it's some kind of world-class sex. What was different was her noise level, and it became clear that the auditory excess was for my benefit. Angie kept breaking character to chuckle, only to resume her porn star-like moaning.

Their sex tape quickly became boring. It didn't wound me like Buzzy had warned, possibly because I really didn't give a shit. Sure, the blatant disrespect and deception angered me, but I was watching a gift, which would save me a lot of money.

I fast forwarded to them relaxing. I knew from the video timeline that the phone call to me was coming up in about an hour. Meanwhile, I listened, just a fly -- an electronic bug in this case -- on the wall.

They chatted, smooched and joked around for a while. Yes, they had a history together, and it was clear from the settled and comfortable familiarity between them. For the first time since that evening in the house when they were getting physical in front of me, the cold fingers of jealousy tore at me. I knew it was just normal emotion and didn't dwell on it. I pushed it under the surface. That compartmentalization at work.

"You sure he won't do nuthin'? Maybe blow our brains out?" Clark asked, half joking.

"Come on, babes, he's putty in my hands." Then, she goosed him, which made him jump. "Yeah, Mr. Deering. You fuck me for almost two hours, get your rocks off, and now you're worried about my little hubby shootin' your ass?"

"Sugar pie, you didn't see him when he told us not to do it."

"Babes, I didn't need to see him. He's a cream puff, the original nice guy. Never had to fight or hustle or struggle his whole life. Spoiled little rich boy, and he's so addicted to Angie's Pussy Power, he's all mine. Putty in my pussy!" she chortled.

"I hope you're right, Sugar. I'm kinda... well, sort 'a feeling bad about doing this. You know, right in front of him. And me usin' a rubber was bullshit, hon."

Angie rolled hard onto her side and went up on her elbow. Poking his chest, she said, "I got this figured, okay? Condoms mean you aren't leaving jizz all over me and my stuff. He'll come around, but this first time, I wanna be clean when I get to fuck him. We'll ease into this lifestyle, you see?

"As far as feeling bad, Babes, what about me?" she asked throatily. "You know how often we fucked before. And wasn't I always ready for more? Remember what I said to you?"

"You said lots 'a stuff..."

"About not getting enough dick, dufus." She playfully punched his arm. "I said, 'Why can't you be two guys?'"

"Oh, that," Clark said.

"Ohh, thaaat," Angie mocked. "Yeah, that. You see? Between you and Dave, momma gets enough dick. I'll call it dick-on-demand!" She laughed again.

Clark looked at Angie as if seeing her for the first time. "Both of us? Really?"

"Yes, I'm still ready to go, and it looks like you're still...recharging." She flicked his limp cock a couple of times for emphasis. "Three times is good for you, Babes, but I could go three more with Dave."

"So, he's not one of those little-dicked guys? I thought that's..."

"Oh, hell no, Clark. Whaddya take me for? I didn't trade down when you left."

"You threw me out," he said quickly with a trace of rancor.

Angie sat up cross-legged. She reached over and patted his face. Too hard to be a gentle pat, not hard enough to be a slap. An attention getter. "Tough love, Clark darling. You stopped being my guy and became a piece of the fuckin' furniture!"

"Hey, that ain't..."

"Hush! Water under the bridge, Babes. Haven't I made up for all that? Huh? Hired a private eye to find you, got you a job, paid moving expenses, apartment deposit, truck down payment, clothes? Look at me, Clark!"

Clark looked at her with sad eyes. He wasn't liking Angie's new deal, either. But he was in deep.

With this admission, Angie added to the gift she was giving me. To that point, I'd almost become clinically detached. Listening to the list of shit I paid for, pissed me off all over again. "Sorry bitch!" I hissed.

"Babes, Dave is a good guy. Physically, down there," she pointed at his crotch, "y'all are almost alike. He wasn't as seasoned in the physical arts as you were, but I've taught him well. The biggest difference is he makes love to me. Nice, sweet, sexy love. You, Clark, just purely and resolutely fuck the ever-living daylights out of me!" He smiled, and Angie leaned down and kissed him affectionately. "Both of you are perfect in your own way," she cooed.

Angie grabbed her phone and checked the time. With a trace of concern, she said, "I need to find Dave and do damage control. He's probably in his office mad and pouting. You wait right here, and I'll get him into our bedroom and fuck him stupid."

"Huh? Do I sleep here, or what?" he asked puzzled.

"Let's play it by ear. Whatever goes down, Clark, just play it cool. Follow my lead like you did earlier. Be nice and respectful to Dave, okay?"

'Whoa! Angie just broke my Irony Meter!' I thought.

Angie rolled out of bed and grabbed a robe off a hook inside the closet door. It was one of the two she normally wore, and its presence in that bedroom closet was another indicator of how planned this set-up was.

"Babes!" she hissed. "If you need to pee, be quiet. The guest bathroom is out the door and down the hall by the second bedroom. The one past the stairs." He nodded. "Just be cool. I'm gonna have to fuck my way outta any hot water I might be in."

She leaned down and kissed him before stepping out of the picture. I ran forward at 3X speed until she came back into the room. Even at fast-forward, I could tell she was pissed. I stopped it and hit 'Play'.

Angie's angry voice came out of my laptop. "Motherfucking asshole is gone!"

"You mean he's not here?" Clark asked. He sounded puzzled.

"Bingo, Einstein! That's usually the main ingredient in 'gone'!" She angrily slapped her hands together. "I knew I loved you for your fuckin' mind..."

"Hey, fuck you, woman! I told you this was a bad idea, didn't I? But nooooo... 'Leave it all up...'"

"SHUT UP Clark! I can't think!" Angie was pacing as much as the small room allowed. "Damnit! He just up and fuckin' left."

"You, sure?" Clark asked, his anger spent. "Maybe Da..."

"His truck, his backpack, his laptop and his keys are gone!" she shouted. The anger turned to desperation. "Yeah, I think I might've taken Dave's niceness for weakness." She plopped heavily on the bed, and Clark sat up to embrace her. Shrugging him off, Angie stood and leaned against the dresser.

"Clark, I need to find him and fix this shit."

"Look, Sugar pie, if y'all are done, we can get back together. Take half his shit, and we'll move on! He's loaded, so half..." his voice trailed off.

Angie was biting the side of her thumbnail, a tell of hers that she was getting anxious. "It's not like that, Babes. You see... I ahhhh." She exhaled and her shoulders slumped visibly. "Rich people protect their money. Especially old money like his family has."

"Angie, there's divorce laws. My mom took her latest old man to the cleaners."

She violently shook her head, causing her red hair to wrap back and forth across her face. "I signed a paper called a pre-nuptial agreement. Fucking around on him, I get shit, ten percent. Even if he beats my ass, I only get 40%. Hell, I won't get the legal 50% I'm entitled to until after seven years," Angie lamented.

They sat for a few minutes, and just as I was ready to hit the fast-forward control, she snapped her fingers and said, "Hot damn, Babes! I got an idea!" She pushed him back on the bed and crawled over him to get to her phone, which she'd left on the opposite nightstand. He pulled her close as she dialed. "Now, shut up. I need to get his ass back here, tonight! So, be quiet!"

Then, I watched her side of our earlier phone call in HD video. I couldn't help but smile.

Like my wife, I suspect that Clark also has impulse control issues. Sure enough, he began kissing on Angie's very sensitive neck while we were having our intense discussion. After pushing him off, she rolled onto her side, facing away. Not to be ignored, the idiot stroked himself a few times, became erect and slid into Angie from behind! She was on the edge of the double bed with nowhere to go, and he easily fended off her resistance. Holding her hips in his strong hands, Clark was steadily putting it to her! Just as she was having the most important conversation of what was left of her marriage, her lover was forcing himself on her.

Until I figured out that Angie was fucking this turd while talking to me on the phone, she probably could've been persuaded me to at least drop by our house. If nothing else, it would've been an opportunity to tell her and asshole they'd just fucked themselves over and let them stew.

They'd legally immolated themselves. Talk about being hoisted on one's own petard. I ran the video forward until the call ended, and through the completion of that fuck session.

Yes, the visuals absolutely pissed me off, and I was about ready to shut it down, when they finished, and Angie got up to leave the room. I saw her speaking animatedly. Running it back a few seconds, I heard the conversation as she went to the master bathroom next door.

Clark was finishing a question, "...this idea of yours?"

I could barely hear her response, but Clark threw me a lifeline. "Shit, woman. Speak up."

Angie shouted, "I saaaaid, the pre-nuptial terms gave me an idea!"

"Okay, ya don't have to yell!"

Angie came back in the room and slipped into the robe, which she'd dropped across the foot of the bed. "Get up, this bed's a mess. He's not coming home, so let's sleep in the big bed."

"Thought you didn't want to do that."

"Clark, your dumb ass fuckin' me while I was on the phone was wrong. Dave's not stupid. He knew what I was doing. Guarantee it, Babes. He'll find a hotel after that BS."

"Sorry," he said, almost childlike.

She cupped his chin and affectionately kissed his nose. "Momma ain't complaining. Bad timing, but what the hell! That was number 4 tonight. It's like the old days with us." She stood up. "Come on, let's go in there, and I'll tell you my idea."

Turning on the master bedroom video files gave me two angles, two sound tracks, and much better quality. Once I located the conversation on the video, I got the shock of a lifetime. What I heard was jaw-dropping. Before, I was seriously pissed off, hurt, jealous and felt betrayed. This was betrayal on a whole new level.

Over the next few minutes, they discussed my ultimate demise. They raised the stakes from serious marital betrayal to outright treachery. It was criminal if they went through with it, and they were playing for keeps.

"...he comes over in the morning, we will have it out. Maybe the neighbors will hear us. You can stay in the garage in the utility closet. He'll leave, probably head to the store, because Saturday is a pretty busy day. Well, he's not ever busy, busy. But for him..."

"Get to the details, Angie!" Clark snapped nervously. "I don't like this one bit, but I'll do it." He was hugging my damn pillow against his chest.

She stared at him for several long moments as if appraising the mettle of her new man. Quieter, Angie explained, "Once Dave leaves, you need to come inside through the inner garage door, into the kitchen. I'll be soaking my face in a pan of ice water." She paused, thinking, and Clark looked horrified as he waited for Angie to continue.

"Once my face is numb, I'll dry it off quickly, and you need to wet those gloves and punch me several times. Hard, but don't break anything. Bruise me, split my lip, black my eyes, but fuckin' break something or scar me, and your ass is grass."

"Baby, I can't! And those gloves," he pointed to my kidskin gloves on the nightstand, "I can't hit you with those!"

"Without the gloves, your hands will give you away! Dump them when you leave, and the cops will think Dave used them and got rid of them. I gave him the gloves last Christmas!

"Clark it's the only chance we have to get some of that damn money! Forty percent of his pile will set us up! Infidelity, I get 10%. Physical abuse, I get 40% and his smug ass goes to jail. He gets the criminal record." She sat heavily against the headboard and crossed her arms defiantly. "Serves him right for not going along with the little bit of fun I wanted to have!" "Motherfucker don't own me..." he voice trailed off.

Clark looked terrified. "Angie, I don't like it one bit!" Clark barked. "Let's just go! Take the ten percent, and we got each other!" Angie leaned forward and slipped out of the robe. "Sex ain't gonna change my mind, woman!"

Famous last words.

It was after 2:00 a.m. when I shut it down. Depression, anger, sadness, and loneliness all create an oppressive blanket of misery. I piled up all four pillows from both beds and leaned back against the headboard. Sleep was elusive, like a moving target. But a numbness, an unbelievable lethargy finally buried me sometime between that second hour and 7:10 when my phone rang. It was Angie.

It was like my mind had never shut down. Far from awakening disoriented or confused, my nightmare resumed as if it was also on a server, awaiting only a mouse click to restart it.

"Dave, darling. I'm so sorry. I've made the biggest mistake of my life. Please, please baby. Please come by the house. I don't know where you're at, but can we talk before you go to the shop this morning? I'm making breakfast for you."

At this point, I was only concerned with whether she was making the call from a place in the house where it would be recorded. 'Overnight, I've become a cold, calculating SOB! But, I had a lot of help!' I thought angrily.

"...for me, Dave honey? You might throw me away, but I want to apologize to you in person, baby. What I did was unconscionable, and you never..."

"Angie. Stop. I'll be there in half an hour." I took a deep breath. "Give it a rest, okay!"

"Ohhhh, Dave, thank you, honey, you won't be sor..." I disconnected the call.

My next call was to Buzzy, but it went right to voicemail "Change of plans, Buzzy. It's an emergency. Call me ASAP." I recalled telling him to take the weekend off and suddenly felt like a jerk. 'To hell with guilt. I'm the injured party, and this will smoke that cheating bitch and her asshole boyfriend right out into the daylight,' I told myself. I took a quick cold shower and slipped into the clothes I'd brought from home.

I knew that as an officer of the court, Buzzy would've told me not to go see her, which would've stopped their subsequent actions. As a citizen, I was under no such requirements. For better or worse, I pressed on.

When I arrived home, Angie was subdued, nervous. Even without foreknowledge of their plans to frame me for domestic assault and battery, her nervousness would have made sense. Why was she nervous? Was it fear of the beating by Clark, or was there a shred of conscience left inside her pretty head?

Breakfast appeared to be hastily thrown together and was mediocre. Both of us picked at our food, but the coffee was good. As expected, Angie tearfully begged me not to divorce her, promised that she'd never see Clark again. I mentally compared her new plan to her original plan to cuckold me and keep Clark on the side. One man to make love and one to just fuck. Her first great miscalculation was to think I'd accept it.

Realizing her original plan was dead, she pushed ahead with her Plan-B. Angie was going frame me for a violent crime, turn me into an abuser in the eyes of society and the law, and steal as much from me as she could. This would be her biggest miscalculation.

It was all I could do to sit and listen, but I dutifully spent a half hour in the house before I told her I'd think about it and talk with her that evening. I left the impression I'd come by after closing the shop. It was telling that she didn't ask when that would be. Did she expect me to be behind bars in a short while? Or maybe they called off the frame-up.

As I climbed into my truck, I tried Buzzy again, and got his voicemail. This time, I calmly left him a detailed message. I texted him links to the surveillance video server, along with user name and password. Opening my email, I hit 'send' on an email with much more detail, along with the links.

On the way to the shop, I stopped by my bank, and after fifty minutes, finally got in to see the manager on duty. This, of course, was to make the banking changes to keep Angie out of all but our joint accounts. Much of our joint funds went into my accounts, which she couldn't touch The day before, I'd also changed all my brokerage and investment accounts passwords.

After parking in the small lot behind the shop, a Wescott Police Department cruiser pulled in behind me with its lights on. I expected it, but no so soon. 'The crazy bitch DID it! Both cops cautiously approached.

"David T. Pace?" the driver, a sergeant, asked. Before I could answer, he said, "Turn around, face the truck and put your hands on the roof." The other cop was intently looking inside my vehicle.

"It's in the glove box, officer. A Ruger 1911," I said.

The second officer spoke into his radio, and I caught my name from the dispatcher. The officer behind me asked, "You unarmed?" I nodded. "I'm gonna search you. You got anything that can poke me, jab me, or stick me? No guns, knives, bazookas or needles?"

"No, sir, officer."

After the pat-down, he said, "Put your right hand behind your back." I heard the handcuffs and instantaneously felt the cool press of steel on my wrist and he attached it tightly.

'Damn, he obviously thinks I beat up Angie, so this won't go down easy!' I thought. "So, why am I being placed in handcuffs, officer?" I asked. Suddenly this whole rotten mess was pissing me off, but if I ever needed to keep my cool, it was now. 'Relax, damnit! Roll with it! You're innocent!'

"Now your left." He jerked and twisted my harm, hard! CLICK 'This shit is way too real!'

"You're being arrested for aggravated assault on your wife, Mr. Pace."

The ride to the police station was less than five minutes, since we were already downtown, albeit on the far north end. It took about twenty minutes to go through the mug shot, fingerprint and induction process. They photographed my hands and my body from the waist up, as well as my legs and feet." This is for your protection as much as it is for us to note any injuries you might've suffered during the altercation with your wife."

I couldn't stand it, and the words just came out, "I never touched Angie. It's a set-up."

The arresting officer, the sergeant, laughed derisively, and the other officer just shook his head in wonderment. The booking officer smirked and said drily, "Never hear that one before."

"I understand, but I never touched her."

"Okay, whatever, Mr. Pace. You'll be arraigned at 10:00 a.m. on Monday," the booking officer informed me. "Detectives might want to meet with you before then. Need to call anybody?"

"Wait, no bond?" I asked.

"Nope. This ain't Austin, San Antone or Houston. First arraignment is Monday morning." With a smile, he said, "You get to spend the weekend with some reeeeal interesting characters."

"Phone call?" I asked, suddenly feeling anxious about being locked up with no control over my life.

"Right over there." He pointed to a wall phone.

Luckily, I knew Buzzy's phone number, and this time he answered on the first ring. "First, are you okay, David?"

Apparently, he'd gotten my messages. Talk about feeling relieved. "Yes. Just kinda freaked out."