Mental Toughness Pt. 02

As we left the counselor's office Amber chased me down and grabbed me. "Brad – I didn't realize that you hated me so much and thought as poorly of me as you do. It's killing me. I can't stand any more of your barbs. If you will meet me for dinner Thursday before the next session and just listen to me, unless the next session is different I'll agree to the divorce on your terms."

It was hard to turn that down. "What time and where?" I asked.

"Could you pick me up at our condo at 6:00 and we'll..." she started. I cut her off.

"Where do you want to MEET for dinner – I'm not going to YOUR condo."

She looked crestfallen. "Let's meet at Roxy's at 6:30; I'll make reservations."

"See you then," I replied, turned and left.

Wednesday afternoon at work I got a call from Amber. Since she knew about my apprehension in taking her calls when she called she told my secretary that it was only about the schedule for Thursday night. I opened with a simple "Hello."

"Hi, Brad; thanks for taking my call. I just left the doctor's office – I sprained my ankle pretty badly. Could we please eat at our – I mean my – condo on Thursday. I'll have Ridgwell's cater it since I can't stand up to cook on my sore ankle, and I'll order their crab cakes for you," she said.

I saw manipulation there; she knew that Ridgwell's crab cakes were about my favorite food in the whole world. "I don't know, Amber," I started to say. She cut me off.

"Brad, this is NOT one of your times to demonstrate enough mental toughness to get you through SEAL qualifying;" I guess that she had learned what buttons to push when it came to me. "It is just a simple human accommodation to someone you used to love. I've told the doctor's office that they can release my medical records to you, so give them a call if you don't believe me. Dr. Graham, xxx-555-5555," she continued with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"If you story checks out, when should I come over?" I asked after a long pause.

"Six thirty, the same time we would have met at Roxy's," she replied now with a lilt in her voice.

"OK, see you then," I hesitantly replied.

I did call the doctor's office; the receptionist seemed legitimate and after checking her records confirmed that Amber had sprained her ankle.

I got to Amber's condo right on time on Thursday. I could hear her hobbling toward the door when I knocked.

"Why did you knock, Brad?" she asked. When she saw the perturbed look on my face she immediately changed the subject, "Thanks for coming, Brad. Did you see the caterer's van?"

"I saw it pull up just as I was getting on the elevator. They should be here shortly," I replied. "Why don't you go sit down and I'll get them and lead them to where the food should be placed. They're not going to stay around after they deliver the food, though, are they?

"Thanks, Brad; no, they're just bringing the food and setting it on the table, then they'll be gone," she said as she hobbled over to the dining room table, which was set with her finest crystal and china.

The caterers served all courses, except desert, while we sat at the table, then left. The appetizer was fabulous as were the crab cakes and the fresh vegetables served with them. Amber tried to be chatty during the meal and I tried to be polite. We talked about non-controversial current events. At one point Amber asked me to get another bottle of wine – I wasn't sure that she would be able to talk about the divorce settlement if she drank much more – but I got up from the table and got it for her anyway. It took me a couple of minutes to find it since her instruction about where it was wasn't particularly accurate. It turned out that she did not drink much of the second bottle.

After dinner we picked up our wine glasses and decided to sit in the living room. "Could you help me up, Brad; I'm sorry to do this to you but my ankle got stiff during dinner."

I knew what she was doing, but I just couldn't be an ass right now because I was expecting her to capitulate to the division of assets. The feel of her soft, large, breast against my chest was disconcerting, however. When we sat down she made sure to give me a clear view up her dress since her pantiless pussy never failed to get me excited. I moved seats so that I no longer had an unobstructed view.

"Part of the deal, Brad, is that I tell you what happened, and then we'll talk about division of assets; but I would be remiss if I didn't tell you again how sorry that I am, and how much I love you."

I sat as stone-faced as I could. It looked like she had carefully rehearsed what she had to say and was going to say it.

"I was tricked into sex with Barnes the first time; I didn't intend to smoke the marijuana but I was inhaling what he was smoking so I thought 'what the heck.' After we had sex the first time I was mortified, but then I looked on it as one last fling before we had kids. Stupid, self-centered, and cheap, I know – I'm not making excuses just telling you like it is. I didn't have any less passion for you despite your late hours, and the few times that I had sex with Barnes didn't disturb my affection for you in the slightest. Also, I gave you whatever you wanted from me sexually," she continued, obviously on a roll in delivering her well-prepared speech.

While the last statements were true, that wasn't the issue for me.

Funny thing, though; as she kept talking I started to feel weird. At one point she looked me in the eye and said "Brad, are you feeling all right? You don't look good. You're not having an allergic reaction to the lobster bisque, are you?"

The last thing that I remember is Amber hobbling over to me and holding my face. I remember seeing her mouth moving and some sound, but not what she was saying. Then things went blank.

I seemed to go in and out of consciousness. At one point I could swear that something or someone was stroking my cock. At another point I thought that I heard Millie's distinctive voice, and Amber answering her. At another point I swear that I heard Millie say "Let me suck it this time and see if I can get a bigger load than you did," and Amber laughingly replying "Bitch, you are really competitive aren't you?"

I woke up in the hospital. When I asked the nurse who walked into my room shortly after I woke up why I was there and how long I had been there she said "It's Sunday morning. You got here Friday night and were here all day Saturday. Your wife has been here most of the time; she should be back shortly."

That made no sense. "Has someone called my brother? He has my medical power of attorney."

"No – we assumed that your wife had it," she replied.

"You are not to take any directions from my wife. If you feel that I'm not capable of making my own decisions then call my brother. I'll give you his phone number," I earnestly said while holding her wrist.

"I'll get the head nurse," she politely answered.

When she left the room I was really confused. I knew that I had had dinner with Amber on Thursday, yet I wasn't admitted to the hospital until Friday night, and now that I was awake I felt fine physically – except for cobwebs in my head and a sore cock, that is. I was still batting things back-and-forth in my mind when Amber walked in – without a limp.

"Brad, Darling," she exclaimed as she scurried over to me and held my hand. "I was so worried about you; I know that you'll be all right now, and we'll continue our reconciliation."

That pushed some of the cobwebs out of my head. "What reconciliation; we were supposed to talk about the division of assets; we're not reconciling."

"But Brad – why did you make love to me if we weren't reconciling, and why did you call into your office on Friday morning and tell them that you were spending the day and night with me?" she asked, seemingly with a genuine tone, and with an indication that she was hurt by my statement.

Over the next two hours, Amber regaled me with a very strange tale that did not mesh at all with my fuzzy memory. Supposedly I had asked her to have her IUD removed early in the week, that we had a nice talk Thursday night, that we had sex three times by Friday morning, that I called my office and told them that I was taking the day off, that I had some sort of episode Friday night, and that an ambulance brought me to the hospital then and that she had been with me since, sleeping in my room and only leaving to get food, to go to the bathroom, and to call friends and family about my condition.

She concluded with "Of course I called the counselor and told her that we would miss our session Saturday morning, but she is available for a makeup session if necessary or we could just go to see her next Saturday."

"Was Millie ever there?" I asked.

That seemed to catch her off guard, but only for a second. "She got there shortly before the ambulance came because I called her first when you had your episode, because she's a nurse."

"Not before then?" I skeptically asked.

"No Darling; it was just you and me and it was wonderful!" she almost cooed.

To say that I was suspicious would be the understatement of the year. I decided not to challenge her until the cobwebs left my head.

I begged her for some time by myself. "Will you be coming back to the condo after you're released?" she timidly inquired.

"We'll see," was my response, although I wanted to say "Fuck NO;" I just wanted a clear head first.

Within an hour after Amber left I was feeling quite a bit better, and against the advice of my doctor I got up and walked around the hallways. I didn't feel dizzy, just fuzzy. After lunch, some more walking around, and after jotting down notes whenever I remembered something and then assigning how sure I was of the memory a number on a scale of one to ten, by six p. m. I was ready to leave.

The nurses told me that Amber had called several times about when she should come back to either visit or pick me up – I kept stalling them. Finally at six o'clock– again against the advice of my doctor – I checked out, called up a friend of mine and had him drive me to Amber's condo to pick up my car from the lot across the street. Then I drove to my apartment.

Amber started calling my cell phone soon after I got back to my apartment – apparently the hospital told her that I had checked out – and even came to my motel room door about 10 p.m. I don't know how she found out where I lived – maybe by using a P. I. that MegaBank had on retainer. I never answered the phone or door.

Although I wasn't 100%, I went into work Monday morning. The first thing that I did was to check with my secretary to see if I had, in fact, called her Friday saying that I was taking the day off.

"Yes, you sure did, Brad," she replied.

"How did I sound?" I asked next.

"You sounded a little disconnected. I asked you a question about your schedule and the answer you gave wasn't responsive – and you hurried off, something you had never done before when we talked on the phone," she replied with a perplexed look.

"Was the call recorded like most calls to my phone are?" I continued.

"Why yes, I think that it was. That's another thing; you called your phone, not my direct line like you have in the past when informing me that you won't be in the office. Since it was to your line it should be recorded according to our standard procedure," she responded.

"Have the Tech people pull it up and make me a copy, and tell them that they must keep and preserve the original, and handle it just like they would evidence," I told her.

"Right away, Brad," she replied, while reaching for the phone and presumably dialing Tech.

When I listened to the recording I recognized my voice but there was something funny about it; real funny. I sent it to the police acoustic lab technicians and asked them to analyze it and to tell me what they thought about it. I didn't want to prejudice their outlook by telling them what I suspected.

I talked to Amber once that week. I played it cool. I did not commit to anything except the next meeting with the counselor, and I certainly did not tell her about my suspicions.

At the counseling session on Saturday, Amber had a surprise. After relating her story – which I was certain was a fabrication and that I had no memory loss – about us making love Thursday and Friday, she had an announcement. "Since Brad had asked me to have my IUD removed and it was my fertile time, and since Brad did such a good job of making love to me, I found out this morning before coming here that I'm pregnant," she related with an actual glow about her.

I didn't hear what Dr. Fell, the counselor, had to say I was in so much shock. When I regained my composure I burst Amber's bubble.

"Wait; I have a lot of questions about that bullshit story," I started out. The counselor tried to interrupt but I held up my hand and said "Let me finish!"

Amber looked scared; Dr. Fell looked resigned.

"There is no way that if we had sex that Thursday night, just nine days ago, that you would be able to tell this soon that you were pregnant," I scoffed.

"That's not true," Amber said, crossing her arms and stomping her right foot. "My OB/GYN said that her test could detect very small amounts of hCG, the hormone that indicates pregnancy, as little as 5 mIU/L. With her very sensitive test it is possible to test positive for pregnancy as early as seven days past ovulation."

I started to protest; Dr. Fell held up her hand and said "Let's research that right now Brad." She got on her computer, stroked keys for three or four minutes, then called me over to her computer screen. "It looks like she's right," the counselor said, "it is possible to test that early.

"How do you know that it's mine?" I snarled.

"Because I had my IUD in the few times that I had sex with Barnes, and you're the only two people I've had sex with since we've been married, that's why," she said while sniffling.

"It's all bullshit," I yelled. "I have to leave," I said, turning to Dr. Fell. "I need to do some investigating before these counselling sessions could possibly be worthwhile. How early can she have an in vivo paternity test?"

Still sitting at her computer Dr. Fell stroked the keys for another three or four minutes. "Ten to twelve weeks after conception," she replied, and then turning to me and pointing to the computer screen asked "Want to see?"

I looked at her screen; that's what the authoritative article that she brought up said. In the background Amber sniffled, "That's what my OB/GYN said too."

"I'll be filing a motion in court Monday to suspend these sessions until an investigation, including a paternity test, is complete," I said as I stood up. "I hope that you understand Dr. Fell.

She nodded; Amber sobbed; I left.

After I filed my motion on Monday, family court Judge O'Connor held a hearing the Friday of the next week. At the hearing, over Amber's attorney's protests, he granted my motion and allowed various subpoenas to be issued for Amber's medical records and related matters.

Over the next few weeks I collected a great deal of evidence. Among (but not all of) the things that I found out were:

-The head of the police's audio lab would testify that my voice on the call to my office telling them that I was taking the fateful Friday off was a recorded message that had been spliced together from a number of different conversations.

--The alleged Dr. Graham's number was a burner phone that one of Amber's friends owned. She had never sprained her ankle.

-Millie had purchased artificial insemination devices with her credit card two days before the fateful Thursday, and that same week several controlled medications were missing from the clinic that she worked at.

-Amber had had her IUD removed right after the first Saturday session with Dr. Fell, the day that I agreed to have dinner with her Thursday night, not at the beginning of the next week as she had told me and Dr. Fell.

-The late night nurse at the hospital that I was admitted to testified in a deposition that she saw Amber sucking and stroking my cock very late both Friday and Saturday nights (actually early in the next morning) and that another woman, who fit Millie's description was in the room. She didn't intervene because she knew Amber was my wife and Amber had not shown anything but love for me while I was hospitalized.

Amber had a paternity test done eleven weeks after conception. As soon as the paternity test was done, I was ready to pounce. Having found out what I had I wasn't really surprised that I was the sperm donor.

Amber tried repeatedly to engage me in conversation about the baby in her belly, and to influence the Court as to how that changed everything. She even called my parents and her parents and asked them to intervene, crying to them that the baby needed a father. The problem for her was that the fidelity clause in the pre-nup had no exception if there was a child, and that I didn't consider myself a potential father but just a sperm donor.

A week after the paternity test came back I had a one-on-one meeting with Amber's attorney. I told him that I could prove that Amber and her nurse friend Millie had drugged me the Thursday night that I had dinner at the condo, and that they had extracted sperm from me several times Thursday and Friday, and continuing even on Saturday night at the hospital. Each time Millie artificially inseminated Amber, and that one of the attempts took resulting in the pregnancy. I was out of it the entire time – except for the snippets of conversation I heard which I was by then certain enough of that I could testify to them – and the call to my office was a spliced-together recording.

I concluded my discussion with her attorney by telling him that I was prepared to turn the case over to a special prosecutor – since my office couldn't handle it because I was involved – and would press for criminal prosecution if I was able to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the scenario I knew was true. Of course in family law court all that I had to do was prove it by a preponderance of the evidence, a much lower standard, and Amber would lose big-time, and get sanctioned besides.

By the time that I was done, her attorney "had religion."

A week later, Amber settled on the terms that I originally sought – a 50-50 split of our combined assets (not counting the $150,000 from Barnes) as of the day that I filed for divorce. Of course there was no child support, and I did not seek alimony. The only requirement that she insisted upon was that I provide her an updated address and cell phone number within a week of any move or phone change in case some issues came up with the baby, which I interpreted to mean health issues. The judge would have ordered it even if I had refused, so I agreed.

The first thing that I did when my divorce was Final, nineteen weeks after I had filed, was to call up Jen and ask her to celebrate with me.

"So you think that now that you're free that I'll just hop back into the sack with you?" she asked over the phone. Her voice sounded impish, not annoyed, but I couldn't be sure.

"No, this is just to thank you for your help with Barnes," I sheepishly replied.

"You think that just taking me to dinner and dancing will be sufficient payback?" she snickered.

"No, but it's a start," I replied.

"What time are you picking me up at my house, and how expensive is the restaurant that we're going to?" she inquired, now with a playful tone.

"Six thirty Saturday night, and the most expensive restaurant in the area that doesn't serve nouvelle cuisine," I chuckled.

*************

After the next election the new DA fired me. I knew it was coming ever since the day that I had Judge St. John arrested. It didn't bother me. I had over a million dollars in the bank or stock market, and I was looking to eventually practice law in the civil arena.