Jerome's Story

The following story is, in essence, a prequel to THE RECLUSE.

This story could have been fitted into a few different categories. It could have been in non-erotic, even romance perhaps, and, truthfully I am not sure that it even truly belongs in Literotica at all, as there is certainly no sex to be found here (sorry). It came about in response to a query I received from a reader to know more about Jerome's story. I decided to file it as a loving wives story because the effects of betrayal were so central to Jerome's life.

I enjoy your comments, whether you like the stories or not, and try to honestly evaluate each one, so thanks if you have a moment to give me a bit of feedback.

"Even Damnation is poisoned with Rainbows". -- Jerome's Story

Clearing Japanese airspace as they climbed to cruising altitude Jerome finally allowed himself to at last loosen the bonds that he kept so tightly wrapped around his emotions 24/7. For a man in his position there was no room for distractions, especially not the crushing emotional burdens that were going to alter his life and redefine his future. He had spent his last night in the orient sombrely listening to the growling voice of a Canadian singer, Leonard Cohen. He had played the song, "The Old Revolution" over and over as he got progressively inebriated. The haunting lyrics summed up his feelings about life to a tee. The furnace Cohen spoke of felt too familiar to the old soldier. Both his personal and professional life had been wrapped up in an idealism that was shredded.

"Of course I was very young, and I thought that we were winning.

I can't pretend I still feel very much like singing

As they carry the bodies away.

Into this furnace I ask you now to venture

You, who I cannot betray."

As the Boeing 707 settled in at altitude for the roughly eight hours left in their next leg to Hickman Field in Honolulu, Colonel Willis found himself looking back over his life and chosen career, wondering how things might have turned out differently.

Growing up in an affluent sprawling family enclave in Baltimore, Jerome, the eldest of three children born to Victor and Francine Willis, had always known he would enter the army. His grandfather, Arthur Willis, was an army major, a military historian, and an instructor at West Point. His uncle Philip had been an aide to General Pershing in the Great War. His own father had served for four years then moved over to the State Department, which a young Jerome had felt was a betrayal.

With the sponsorship of his grandfather and uncle Philip, and, he always believed, some intervention from Senator Collins, a close friend of his father's, Jerome had been accepted into West Point at the age of seventeen, in the fall of 1940, when war was already in full swing in Europe. With the American entry into the war in December of '41, his class, which was nominally the graduating class of '44, was pushed forward, graduating in the summer of '43. Only six weeks later he was in England, assigned to the Third Army, he found himself thrust into action as Patton's force was tasked with spearheading the relief of the beleaguered 2^nd infantry division in the Ardennes forest, in what would come to be known as the Battle of the Bulge. Being at the right place at the right time has been the making of many a career, and so it proved for the newly minted second lieutenant, huddled in the bushes along side a narrow road outside the town of Libramont, Belgium, on the 21^st of December.

Accompanied by only a corporal and separated from the rest of his small detachment by half a mile of thick forest, Jerome counted the thirty-six German Panzer tanks of the 2^nd Panzer Division as they rumbled by, less than thirty feet from his position. Troop carriers and armoured vehicles would no doubt follow, but it was time to bug out before being detected. As soon as he was clear enough the young lieutenant had radioed back to headquarters giving the disposition of the enemy column and identifying the units being of the 2^nd Panzer Division of the XLVII Panzer Corps, which, at the time, was thought to still be south west of Bastogne. Luck is everything, and as luck would have it the Commanding General of the Third Army, George S Patton, happened to be in the communications tent, demanding intelligence on the location of German forces when a Lieutenant's hushed and breathless message was received.

Noting the detail of Jerome's report, including German unit numbers, the General had first fumed that his intel officers were wrong again about German locations, then had demanded that the lowly 2^nd lieutenant report to HQ, Third Army, within 12 hours.

Thus, by accident of being in the right place at the right time, with the right people to recognize it, had young Jerome Willis's career in the army been directed in a manor he would never have imagined. Within a single week Jerome, promoted to 1^st Lieutenant, was seconded from his unit into scouting duties for the Third Army, and then, after the Battle for Bastogne was won and the German army pushed back, he was permanently moved into the clandestine world of Army Intelligence.

By the spring of 1945 Jerome was back in the USA, taking courses in intelligence gathering while attending language school to learn Russian and German. Being back in familiar territory, Jerome found that a young officer of good family was in great demand for all sorts of social activities. Those activities brought an eager young Jerome into contact with more than a few pretty young women, among them one Carla Wagner, who literally took his breath away.

It seemed the attraction was mutual, and the two were married in the fall of '45. Jerome made sure Carla understood that he planned to remain in the army after the war and make it his career. It would mean periods of separation, and regular moves as he was transferred, but Carla had embraced his decision, coming, as she did, from a military background herself.

The first few years had been both delightful and challenging, as the young lovers got to know one another both physically and intellectually and adjust to married life. They had both been virgins on their wedding night and while those first few weeks had been an adjustment and learning curve for both young lovers, they had found their way with enthusiasm and the willingness for frank assessments of what enhanced both their experiences.

In 1946, when the Army's language school moved to the Presidio of Monterey, Jerome and Carla got to enjoy the warmth and relaxed atmosphere of California. Carla used the year in Monterey to finish her degree in education and get her teaching certificate. In 1948, having attained top fluency status in both German and Russian the young couple found themselves in Le Visinet, France, the headquarters of Military Intelligence Europe. Carla loved the French culture and language and eagerly set about conquering both.

Pregnancy did slow down things by early '49, and in May the happy couple were blessed with the arrival of a daughter, Caroline. The threesome explored France in an old Peugeot as often as Jerome could arrange a few days leave. They would both remember the time in France as a magical and romantically fulfilling period, one they would look back to and try to recreate in the later years, if only for brief periods.

Jerome looked out of the window of the 707, somewhere over the western pacific, wondering where the years had gone, and the nights when the only thing that mattered was the delight he found in his wife's gorgeous naked body wrapped around him in the throes of passion.

After France, Carla and Caroline had moved back home, to the house they bought in Elkridge, just south of Baltimore and within easy commutes for her parents in Montebello Park. Jerome's parents had moved down to Bethesda, which was still within an hour's drive. Almost as soon as his little family was settled Jerome was off, this time to the opposite end of the world.

The Korean War had started, and everyone knew the Russians were behind any action they could be to destabilize American influence. Jerome went first to Japan for six months then, after an all too brief visit home, spent a year in Seoul, returning in late 1951 with the rank of Captain.

Carla was pleased no end to have her husband back, and proved it by getting pregnant only a month after his return. Philip Willis lustily greeted the world outside his mother's womb in February of 1952, while his father was back in Korea for a short two month stint. Missing his son's birth was the most difficult experience in Jerome's military career. Carla tried to put a good face on it, but they both knew it caused a certain stress on the marriage that would evidence itself periodically over the years.

There had been more moves, of course, over the years. Germany from '60 --'63, the Pentagon from '63 -- '68 as Major Willis, briefing senior officers on Intel. Those had been good years, living in the family home in Elkridge and commuting to the Pentagon had given him time to spend with the growing family. Carla was teaching school again, with the kids old enough to manage Mom being busy with a career.

It was during his time at the Pentagon that Jerome began to realize that his daughter was becoming more and more distant, and he tried to find ways to engage her, but with little success.

As the sixties progressed and the anti-war movement picked up steam he found his daughter becoming more and more antagonistic. It all came to a head when she went off to college in the fall of 1967, refusing any offers of help from her dad to move her to her dorm, although willing enough to accept his financial support.

"I don't want anyone to know I am the daughter of a war mongering fascist," she unloaded on her father. It would be the last thing she said to him for several years.

In 1968 Jerome was again promoted, to Lieutenant Colonel, and loaned to the Defence Intelligence Agency. For the next two years he spent much of his time travelling between US embassies around the world, setting up and modernizing the Defence Attaché System. The experience was invaluable and the connections would last him a lifetime.

Because he was often only at home for brief periods at a time, followed by sometimes three or four weeks travelling, it was during these years that he began to feel he and Carla growing apart. Philip was in high school and becoming more independent, which meant that Carla no longer felt as needed at home. She began socializing more with her fellow teachers and Jerome found it difficult to fit in when he was home, although he did try. The general attitude of the American public was becoming more and more anti military, and nowhere was this more prevalent than among educators, many of whom were liberals and most of Carla's friends seemed to be firmly anti-war. While most of her friends remained cordial enough, some were openly hostile when they realized he was military. They still socialized together when he was home, but it became more and more common for it to be Carla's friends, among whom most centrally were Felix and Sharon Carlyle. Felix taught in the same high school as Carla, and Sharon became a good friend as the foursome socialized together frequently. While their politics were different, they had maintained a courteous willingness to allow the friendship to overcome philosophical differences. In his last visit home a year before however, Jerome found Felix condescending and ignorantly and blatantly opinionated about the war and the government in general. Sharon was at least more circumspect in his presence but he knew she shared her husband's views on the war and the "military industrial complex" that they assured him, just an ignorant soldier, was hell bent on running the world in whatever way aided their lust for greed. If they had known he was in intelligence it would have been worse, but he never talked about his job and Carla knew better than to reveal what he did inside the army.

In the spring of '70 Jerome's term with the DIA was up, and he found himself assigned as head of theatre for Army Intelligence in Vietnam. It was a frustrating time for Jerome. Intel was poisoned by North Vietnamese infiltrators, American sabotage, and Army Generals who did not want to believe the truth of what was really going on in the jungles.

Now, on his way home, his mission complete and handed off to someone else to develop ulcers over, he wondered where everything had gone south. His career in the Army was secure, he had just been promoted to Full Colonel, and would spend the next several years at Fort Belvoir as assistant G2 if that was what he wanted. He'd thought he did, but was no longer sure.

Staring out the window at the clouds below Jerome was no longer sure of so many things he had taken as given truths in his life. His only daughter had been married six months ago. He had not been invited to the wedding. A letter from Carla had tried to diplomatically explain that her fiancé, one David Cummings, was a militant anti-war activist, convinced Ho Chi Minh was the rightful father of all Vietnam, and that American Imperialist Fascists should all be charged with war crimes and the armed forces disbanded.

It seemed that it was a philosophy his daughter shared.

What Carla had not said, but that Jerome already knew, was that Felix and Sharon were in the midst of a divorce and that Felix's disdain for Jerome did not keep him from moving into his house and sleeping with Carla in the bed Jerome's military salary had provided. It had been Felix who walked his daughter down the isle at her wedding, and Felix who danced the first dance with his soon to be ex-wife. His son had reported the essentials and he had found out the rest on his own. Twenty-seven years in intelligence gathering had made checking up on his wife pretty easy.

Jerome idly reached into his tunic pocket to retrieve the silver flask Carla had given him seventeen years before on their tenth anniversary. He looked at the flowing inscription, "Love Always and Forever, Your Carla". Forever had lasted how long? Spinning the cap open he took a long swallow, allowing the bite of the whiskey to burn down his throat.

Twenty-seven hours later Jerome's last flight deposited him at Bolling Air Force Base just outside Washington. He had not bothered to inform anyone in the family that he was returning home. He didn't anticipate a warm welcome from anyone and he had decided not to provide cover for his wife and her lover. Philip was away in school, and although he had filled his father in on some of what was happening with the family, he had also made excuses for his mother, so Jerome was not sure of what that relationship would look like either.

The army had a car and driver waiting for him. After sitting back in the rear seat to collect his thoughts for a moment he gave the driver the address of his civilian lawyer. He needed to stop in to collect the papers before heading over to the house to gather up his belongings.

Opening the front door he had barely stepped inside when a familiar voice from the kitchen wrenched his guts one last time.

"Felix, is that you dear?" Carla called out.

"No Carla, its not your boyfriend, its your husband. Remember me?" Jerome called back to her.

The next sound was of something breaking in the kitchen, then Carla appeared around the corner, white as a ghost, her hand to her mouth.

Before either of them could say a word the door opened behind Jerome and Felix Carlyle walked in like he owned the place. He stopped in mid stride, his mouth open, as he saw Jerome standing in the middle of the foyer in his full dress uniform.

"Hello Felix," Jerome stonily stared the man down. "I know you think you live here, and I know you've been fucking my wife for at least a year now, but just for today I think you ought to get the hell out of my house and stay away until Carla calls you to let you know it's safe to come back."

Felix allowed his gaze to travel to Carla for just a moment before he wordlessly turned on his heal and left the house. The sound of his car starting and driving off the yard broke the deathly silence in the room. Jerome turned back to the woman he had loved for so many years.

"I didn't come to cause a fight, Carla. I've known all about you and that piece of shit for months! I am here to gather up my stuff and then I'll get the hell out of your life. Here," Jerome reached down into his briefcase and withdrew a bundle of documents. "These are for you. I suggest you get yourself a lawyer. Those are the divorce papers. You and your fuck buddy can either come up with half the value of the house or it goes up for sale. You've got two weeks to figure that out, but as long as this house is still mine if I catch that son of a bitch in what was my bed I will personally castrate the piece of shit. The kids are out of the house, so I am not offering any alimony or child support. You keep what is yours, I keep my savings, my inheritance, and my pension and we divorce for irreconcilable differences. You fight me on any of it, on one little fucking damned detail, and it gets filed as adultery, I go after you and your asshole boyfriend for everything I can, and it gets as dirty as I can make it. I don't want your god damned excuses, your tears, or your apology. What I do want is to give this back to you!" Jerome tossed the silver flask at his wife's feet. "Maybe give it to your fuck buddy, perhaps forever will last longer with him than it did for me! Now, where is my stuff?"

Carla, still white as a sheet, looked down at the flask in something approaching horror and then back up at her husband like she'd seen a ghost. "In the basement, in boxes. Ah, Jerome..."

"Ok, I don't need much right now." Jerome interrupted, holding up his hand to silence her, "I'll go down and get a few things and then I'll let you know in a few days where to send the rest. I am giving you two weeks to decide about the house, but you should know that I have cancelled the house insurance, the utilities, and your car insurance effective one week from today. I also moved most of the money from our joint house expense account. You are on your own, well, you and Felix, I guess! It would have been decent of you to at least have been paying your own way this past ten months since he took my place in my bed full time, Carla. I don't think I deserved this from you after all these years, paying the living cost of you and your fuck buddy, but then again, in my business you learn pretty quickly to expect the worst from people! Goodbye Carla, have a nice shitty life. Now please do me the favour of getting out of my sight before I throw up."

Jerome went down into the basement where he found his clothes, books, and a few keepsakes from his years of travels all boxed up and labeled. Not much to account for twenty-seven years of marriage, he thought. He debated going up to what had been their bedroom just for the satisfaction of tossing that asshole's clothes out into the yard, but he knew it would accomplish nothing and he couldn't give the bitch the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt. Gathering up what he needed, and trying desperately to stay focused, he lugged it up and carried it out to the car and his waiting driver. Without even a glance back he got in and drove away from what had been his home for the last time.

It was three days later before Jerome managed to connect with his son Philip. Unfortunately, it did not go well either.

"Look dad, glad you are safely home from Nam, but I'm pretty busy right now. Lots on my plate here at school so not sure when I'll have time to see you. I talked to Mom yesterday. She told me you are divorcing her and basically giving her nothing after all these years. It doesn't seem right, you know. I know what she did was wrong, letting Felix move in with her without even telling you, but you've been gone so much, not really a big part of our lives for years at a time."