Post-Nuptial Agreement Ch. 01-02

Our marriage will be...unconventional, there's a nice Darren word. It's unconventional, and he'll just have to get used to it, Violet thought.

"I'm glad you're happy," Darren's quiet, deep voice said. He held a tumbler with a mere sliver of amber liquid in it, still wearing his tuxedo although he'd stereotypically undone the bowtie and left it hanging off his neck.

His voice had been one of the things she'd genuinely found attractive about Darren. As she told Cherise, he wasn't bad looking. He had a very classic look about him, with a small, well-kept beard, a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, and sharp lines. She'd seen a picture of the old actor Paul Newman after they got together and couldn't help but compare them ever since, even if Darren carried extra weight Newman never had.

"Of course honey," she said, strutting over to him, ditching her heels along the way. At five-five she was shorter than him, but she didn't know exactly how tall he was; he always had a bit of a hunch she assumed was from some mystery back pain all old men seemed to have.

She decided to be a bit bold and took the tumbler from him, finishing the drink in one gulp. Darren seemed surprised but even though she'd never had it in his presence it was hardly her first taste of whiskey. This one was much smokier than she was used to, but it also wasn't nearly as much as she'd sometimes drink with her hookups. She put on her sultriest look and started playing with his hand. She hoped that if she could get him excited enough with aggressive foreplay he might be done early. An appropriately apologetic and understanding attitude at his loss of control would ensure no hard feelings and would get her out of any sexual obligation for the evening.

"Mmmm baby that feels great, and you look absolutely delicious in that dress," Darren said hesitantly.

"But?" Violet prompted.

"I'm...well I asked them to turn the lights down in the reception, but the noise and the activity..."

"Oh no," Violet said, trying to sound concerned. Darren had told her a few weeks after they started up that he suffered from frequent migraines. After she'd done some research to ensure they wouldn't kill him too early (he'd assured her any sort of brain deformation or tumor had been investigated and ruled out), Violet came to see them as a blessing. While he usually wanted her to lie with him when they hit at night, it completely ruled out any sort of sex and he generally took some sort of tranquilizing painkiller that saw him fast asleep within a few minutes of their lying down. More than once he'd told Violet of his headache and she'd snuggled him to sleep only to hop out of his bed and get herself off on another man's tool before returning to lie with him until he left in the morning, often with cum still dampening the underwear she had on in bed.

"So does that mean..." she trailed off, trying to sound disappointed.

"I'm so sorry love," Darren said, "I know girls sometimes have this big idea of the wedding night. I'd been hoping maybe to hold up my end of the deal a bit more than I usually do but with my head..."

"Oh don't say that, you've always been good enough for me," Violet lied, "We both knew what we were getting into here. We wouldn't be here with these rings on if we both though this was going to be a normal marriage."

Darren chuckled. "How very true," he said, "Will you divorce me in the morning if I turn in already?"

"Of course not, honey," Violet said, smiling but not for the reason her husband thought, "you go rest. Maybe we can make the morning interesting."

"Mmmm, God willing," Darren said.

"Do you mind if I stay up for a while?" Violet asked, "I'm still kind of wired from the ceremony, I probably won't fall asleep for a bit."

"Of course not, it's your wedding day, you should make it last however you can," Darren said.

"Thank you so much honey."

"I love you," Darren said to her.

"You too," Violet said as he walked off into the bedroom. As soon as the door closed she found her clutch and pulled out her cell phone.

Are you pussies still around or did you *completely* bail on me?" she sent to Cherise.

Fuck you bitch, we went to a bar downtown. Our flight out is tomorrow, remember? And aren't you supposed to be sealing the marriage? Oh do not tell me you're texting while he's inside you! Cherise replied.

Shit no, the ball and chain has a migraine. It was reception, barely enough whiskey to keep from evaporating, and bed for the old man.

Ummm...sorry?" Cherise sent back.

Whatever. You need to do me a favor though. It's my wedding night, right?

Yeah...sounds like a dud, right?

So that's the favor!

Speak English girl, I'm four drinks in.

Fine Violet wrote back, rolling her eyes in real life and adding the appropriate emoji, Is this plain enough for you: Ask your boyfriend if he still wants to fuck me in my white thigh-highs.

* * * * *

Violet pushed herself up out of bed slowly. While she'd paced herself at the wedding, she'd made Cherise and Jim bring a bottle of vodka to their room last night. They'd polished off the entire bottle, in more ways than one, but she definitely hadn't watched her water intake. The coveted thigh-highs were long gone; she'd somehow gotten into bed wearing only boy short panties, which is definitely not what she'd worn under her dress. Jim had probably kept the lace thong and the stockings as trophies, the perv. The clock read 9:30. Darren, of course, was already up, his side of the bed long cold.

Violet realized there were things next to the clock on the nightstand. A tall glass of water and a few pills were what she zeroed in on first, taking them without thinking and downing half the water in one go. It was only after her second and third gulps she noticed the paper. It was from the hotel notepad. She unfolded it and saw a handwritten note from Darren.

"Use the bathroom and come to the living room in a robe. Only a robe." Only was underlined.

Violet smirked, finding it kind of adorable that her older husband was trying to arrange some sort of seductive game for the morning. Ordinarily she'd beg off whatever lover would try for her in her current state, but she was married to the guy as of yesterday and she had hinted at doing something this morning. And she did feel a little guilty about having a threesome on her wedding night that didn't include her husband. A small, quiet ping in the back of her head wondered how he'd known to provide water and aspirin for her, but she dismissed it; he'd seen her drinking wine at the reception, he was probably just being cautious.

Violet took care of what she considered essential (including flushing her insides a bit in case any evidence remained) and followed her husband's wishes, emerging from the master bedroom wearing nothing but the hotel's plush maroon robe, the belt tied around her waist. She was planning to prowl toward him when she figured out where he sat but nearly stumbled and fell over one of the chairs at what she saw.

On the balcony, backlit by the blinding light of the reflecting sun, a figure was doing some sort of calisthenics. Balanced entirely on his arms, with his elbows bent, the rest of his body was in a flat plank, but the feet weren't touching the ground. As she watched, he pushed himself up vertically, doing a full handstand, before pulling his feet up and standing. It was only when he walked in out of the sunlight Violet realized who it was.

"Darren?"

"Sit down, Violet," he said, indicating the seat near a table in front of the balcony. He was dressed in workout clothes, and they clung to a much more muscular frame than she remembered from the last time she'd seen him unclothed. He wasn't suddenly a bodybuilder, but the fat she remembered was almost gone. When he moved, solid muscles took shape beneath his skin. Violet suddenly felt nervous.

"Sit," Darren repeated.

Violet moved over and sat meekly in the chair. The table was about three feet across, big enough for two people to eat. Or in this case, big enough to hold an old fashioned briefcase and a string-tied manila envelope. She wasn't sure what was happening and regretted leaving her phone in the bedroom. Can you make someone sign a pre-nup after you're married? Is it valid?

"So," Darren said, sitting down and apparently barely breathing hard from whatever he'd been doing on the balcony, "As you said last night, this isn't going to be a...how did you put it? A normal marriage. So I figured we should talk about that."

"Um...okay," Violet said.

"I don't usually go for long drawn out presentations or build up. Most of my employees know if they can't give me enough information for a decision in ten minutes there better be a good reason why, and I don't have that. How well do you know Lucas Collins?"

Violet tried to control the flush she felt going through her body as several very explicit images of a football alum from her high school flashed in her mind. "Um...he was a year behind me in school, I don't know him that well."

"Well that raises some questions about your character, then, considering you had his dick inside you at least twelve different days in February," Darren said.

"What? Wait, how-"

"How about Darius Glass? He's an associate of your maid of honor's paramour, isn't he?" Darren asked. The whole time he was lounging casually in his chair, his gaze never leaving her face, something that unnerved her in the extreme.

"Yeah, I think they're friends," Violet stammered out.

"So did Mister Monroe help you arrange the occasions where you met him after work for trysts or did you do that on your own initiative?"

"Jim didn't-look, honey, I don't know what you think you know but-"

"I don't think I know anything, honey. I do know that you've had sex with four different men in the six months we've been seeing each other. Also your maid of honor, though apparently that mostly only happens when you're also coupling with her boyfriend."

"Look, you're making up stories, trying to get me to admit something I didn't do, and I don't understand why!" Violet said, rising from her chair and trying to muster up righteous indignation.

"Because Elias Pearson works for me."

Violet collapsed and almost missed the chair. The third guy she'd been fucking had presented himself as a college kid, said he'd heard about her from Lucas. He was confident, good looking and had no expectations for anything except sex. They were the easiest hookups she'd ever had; he had his own apartment, it was easy to get to, he worked odd hours, and when they'd finish he'd want her gone as much as she'd want to leave. First guy she'd met who she thought understood that "casual" meant "casual."

Violet took a moment and recovered, "You...that's entrapment. You forced me into that situation by hiring Elias."

"Entrapment, legally, means getting someone to do something they wouldn't normally do. Elias was your third 'side piece' I believe is the term nowadays. But none of that matters in the context of marriages."

"Fine, so what do you want to do?" Violet snapped, "You proposed to me, even knowing all of this. You still went through with the wedding. Clearly you knew what you were getting into."

Darren finally looked down and spoke, sounding choked up. "I...I knew by the third month or so, but...I really loved you. I thought the proposal might get through, and I thought maybe the marriage vows, might turn things around. You're young, I didn't want to stifle you, so I figured you'd calm down once you saw how serious I was."

"God Darren," Violet said, off balance, "I...I didn't think you were in love with me. I mean, I thought I was a trophy wife; everyone at the wedding knew it. I...I don't know what to say."

"I do," Darren said, his voice and demeanor back to being businesslike, "You have so little guile it's no wonder I found out about every guy you banged. Anyway, that speech is what I'd tell the judge. I was willing to make some concessions in the marriage, maybe talk with you about being open or swinging if you really wanted that. I waited for you to approach me about other lovers, but it never happened. So I gave you what you expected; an older man lusting after a porn model who's body can't keep up with his libido. And you responded exactly as I thought you would."

Violet had moved past shock and was well into being furious now. "Fuck you. I'm not going to sit here and let you fling accusations in my face and insult me. I'm stupid, is that what you're saying? Fine. Who's the one that married me without a prenup, huh? Kick me out on my ass, I'm still taking half of all your shit."

"Do you know what an annulment is?" Darren asked, still sounding calm and collected.

"Yeah, it means the marriage never happened or some shit. Britney Spears got one. But we already fucked so good luck with that."

Darren sighed. "That is only one of the grounds for annulment and is mostly a concern of the Catholic Church. Another is fraud. Do you recall any of your post-coital conversations? Specifically the ones when people asked you if you had a boyfriend?"

Violet felt her chest tighten.

Darren patted the briefcase. "In addition to enough photos to start my own amateur porn site, in here are transcripts and flash drives of several of your text and voice conversations where you outlined exactly how familiar you were with my net worth, specifically what portion of it you'd get in the event of a divorce, and how careful you were, or thought you were, in making sure nothing interfered with the marriage. In short, you admitted you were marrying me solely to get at my money. You had no interest in me at all. Hardly an honest basis for a marriage is it?"

"So what?" Violet said, "There's still no pre-nup."

"The Bar Association is clearly lacking for want of your talents. An annulment means the marriage never happened, Violet. We were never married. We aren't ex-spouses, we're just exes. As your former lover Ethan Marley can tell you, with exes you get exactly as much stuff as they let you take from their house when you leave. In your case, that's a dress and a diamond ring you can probably pawn for about twenty-thousand. At least that's above the poverty line, unless you consider you have to live on it for the rest of your life."

Violet felt her eyes burning again, and the tightness in her chest wasn't going away. "You...you were being a fraud too! What the fuck was that on the balcony? You can't do that, your back hurts or some shit."

Violet literally saw Darren's eyes roll. "Like I said, I played the part you expected. I've been training for my entire life; I used to swim competitively. I still do it to work out, among other things. But you expected the doddering old pervert. It's easy enough to put on a few pounds of fat to hide muscles; actors do it all the time, and we were going out for three weeks before you got my shirt off. What do you think I've been doing for the two months I asked we not be together?"

"Yeah, that's still fraud. You were tricking me!" Violet insisted.

"Yes, me letting myself go a bit is clearly on the same level as you forcing me into a marriage to take my money," Darren drawled, "Plus, I wonder what the courts will assume when I point out that Mister Glass has associates known to traffic in drugs? Drugs that can be lethal."

Violet's eyes widened and she gripped the chair. Her amateur, true crime podcast informed legal knowledge didn't help now that he was bringing attempted murder into the picture.

Darren pulled the manila envelope over and unwound it, pulling out two stacks of paper, both with signature pages on the top.

"We could spend the next hour going back and forth, you begging for pity, trying to weasel some sort of compromise when the shock wears off and you try to regain some confidence, me toying with you and giving you hope then dashing it to the ground again but like I said I don't like to waste time. In front of you are two documents. The one on the right is an agreement to a no-contest annulment. The process will finish within a month or so. Like I said, you can keep the dress and the ring, plus I decided to kick in an extra fifty thousand dollars because you really do look like a Playboy model and seeing your body naked on my cock was worth at least that much. With that much money you should be able to eke out a living for three to four years, maybe more if you really apply yourself in job hunting. Alternatively, I do know some people in movies. I'd be willing to invest in financing part of your career if you wanted to start in pornography. Given your looks and talents I'm sure I'd make the investment back quickly, and if you're careful and smart with marketing you can probably maintain yourself for another 10 years in that industry. You could easily clear a million by the time you're 22."

"Seriously?" Violet asked him, incredulously.

Darren shrugged. "I only inherited part of my money, I know a good business opportunity when I see one; that's how I sold three companies and still run a fourth."

Violet, now clutching the robe as if it was shielding her from a cold wind, her other hand trembling, tapped the document on the left.

"That is a notarized confession. It states you freely admit you only married me because I was rich, you were counting on the fact of split assets in a divorce, you knowingly and wilfully cheated on me, several times, during the course of the relationship, and you accept full fault for that. It would effectively allow me to present that as evidence in court any time in the future and be guaranteed an annulment in my favor at the time of presentation."

"I don't get it," Violet said, "Isn't that the same as the one over here?"

"No," Darren said, and stood and stepped around the table. "If you sign that one, I keep it in a safe, or a safe deposit box, or a lockbox in Switzerland. Either way, it'll be safe. Then you'll be my wife. Specifically, you'll be my hotwife. You like cheating on me? You'll still cheat on me. Except I'll dictate who you cheat on me with, when, and how. And when you come home you'll still be expected to see to my needs. Sometimes you'll be giving me a blowjob while I'm watching video of you fucking another man. Sometimes you'll be so raw from a marathon session you'll think you can't possibly take another cock, but you'll still bend over for mine. You'll have sucked so much cock you'll have lockjaw, but you better take me into your throat."

"So it's like some BDSM shit then?" Violet said.

"No no no," Darren said, "See in BDSM there are safewords. You don't get a safeword. The first, and I mean first and only time you refuse to do something you get thrown out on your ass with whatever you're wearing at the time, which probably won't be much. It's exactly what you were going to do anyway; you'll have access to the money, the properties, the clothes, the cars, even the jet. You get to go to the parties that can't be called parties because people worth less than a hundred million don't even know about them, so they're balls or galas. It's just instead of worrying about whether I've found out you're cheating on me, you just have to worry if that time, whenever it is, I'll ask you to do something you can't handle. Instead of worrying if that waiter you fucked in the back room is going to give you too many glances or spill the beans, you'll worry about the business partner I had you blow telling his obese friend that all he has to do is ask me and I'll make you suffocate under his fat while you desperately try to suck an orgasm out of him."

Darren fell quiet. Violet's heart was thumping in her head now, and she wondered if he could see it through the robe somehow. She had her hands clenched on the robe or she was sure they'd be shaking hard enough to upend the table. She was looking at the end of all of her work, all of her scheming, piled up in two stacks of paper. The obvious choice was to get out. Fifty-thousand dollars would go a long way, plus whatever she could get for the ring. She could spin another story. She wouldn't be able to snag someone in Darren's tier again, but some minor tech millionaire still had toys and money somewhere.