Promises, Promises Pt. 03

Thanks to Bad Hobbit for his very useful suggestions and corrections. I didn't follow all of them, so responsibility for the story is mine, as is copyright.

This story can't be appreciated without reading the first two parts of this series.

*****

Living with my wife is an adventure, a wild ride. A scary ride at times.

She's a cannonball, literally. The carnival had claimed their human cannonball was sick and asked the audience if there were any volunteers. Penny's arm shot up immediately. They had her sign a bunch of waivers, which she didn't even read. I was freaking out. She put on the special protective outfit and then got shot out of a cannon. Not a real gunpowder cannon; it was powered by compressed air, with some gunpowder for effect. She travelled about thirty feet and came up laughing.

There was amateur contest at a local strip club she insisted on going to. I was relieved that she only went to watch, not participate, though she could have easily won first prize.

She's impulsive and stubborn. She came home one day and announced she wanted to take our next winter vacation in Michigan. We had been talking about Hawaii, but no, Michigan it was. I still don't understand why.

More recently there were the job offers. Princeton, Cambridge, Berkeley, Stanford, Vancouver... Haifa, Oxford, Melbourne, Saint Petersburg... So many offers; so many factors to weigh. Many of them were offering her tenure right from the get-go. Others were offering a very light teaching load. A few were offering oodles of money. Some had a good history department; for others it was an afterthought. Penny promised that she would not consider any university unless I was hired by their history or political science department.

I wouldn't be an afterthought though, something they did just to lure my wife. I was coming off two successful years as History Chairman, restoring a reputation lost under the previous head. All my publications were well respected with many citations. In the age of terrorism, my focus on the role of violence in the development of society was considered especially significant. I was invited to many seminars and was even interviewed on Fox News. My book "Promises of Peace" was a best-seller, as academic history books go. I didn't lack for publicity and my doctoral students didn't lack for funding.

Still, my wife was the star. I had met Penny when she was finishing her master's degree. We married a year later, and I supported her through her doctorate. By the time she finished that, people were competing to get her to accept money from them. I always encouraged her to follow her off-the-wall flashes of inspiration, to explore her wild ideas. I knew she would be at the top of her field, and her field would soon be recognized for its importance. I was proud of my wife. She was brilliant, beautiful and always full of surprises.

When the unsolicited job offers started rolling in, she expressed a preference for staying in North America, preferably on the west coast. I was initially in agreement with that; my latest project was contrasting the development of Papua-New Guinea (an independent nation) and occupied West Papua, where the original black, Catholic population was being forcibly displaced by Muslim ethnic Indonesians. The whole island had literally been in the stone age until the latter part of the twentieth century. The population was traditionally violent and murderous, with widespread cannibalism. They were trying to move past that, but it wasn't easy. The border split the island in half, thus making it into an ideal test case.

Anyways, Melanesia (the region of the Pacific southwest with native black populations) was closer to the west coast of the Americas, so Penny's preference had made sense to me. Unfortunately, her latest off-the-wall flash changed that.

She was intrigued by photos of primitive-looking Papuans, dressed in, well, not much. "These guys must be killers in bed."

"They're traditionally killers, cannibals; very dangerous people. Many Papuans are Roman Catholic now and look with horror at their past practices. Still, old habits die hard. You don't want to fuck with Papuans. "

"Can I fuck with their cousins?"

"What cousins?"

"I'll find a darkie here to fuck."

"Very funny." I thought that was the end of that discussion until a week later, when Penny announced:

"I found someone."

"What are you talking about?"

"I found a Papuan look-alike to fuck."

"I asked, what are you talking about?"

"I told you last week that I'd love to screw one of those Papuan hunters, but you think they're too dangerous. So there's this guy, he's a science writer talking to me for an article about quantum biology. He's a little too beefy to pass off as a Papuan, but I figure he's safe."

"You're kidding me." I paused. "Are you?"

"Ken Sabini. I'll send you a link to his website. Check him out, tell me if you approve. I'm going for a walk with him in Forest Park on Thursday morning. There are some issues he didn't quite get during our first meeting at my office."

"Like having sex with a married woman?"

"He doesn't know I'm married. I'll tell him after I have your approval."

I was floored. She was either serious or pulling some terrible stunt. Much more serious than the cannonball. "There's no way in hell I will agree to you having sex with anyone but me."

"It's just a one-time thing. I want to try a black savage. Come on, honey."

"Why don't you just have sex with your brother in law? Or have you already?"

Penny was horrified by the suggestion. "Of course not; I haven't fucked him. I would never cheat on you. I can barely understand a word Clive says anyways, with that island accent. What would my sister say if I had sex with her husband? Her precious kids would never want to see me again if they found out. I love them too much for that. I love you too much for that."

Penny seemed genuinely offended at the idea. She ignored how seriously her proposal offended me. By this point, it probably didn't matter if it was a joke or not. She was dangerously close to a line that should never be crossed.

"Listen, my precious Larry. It's just a one-time thing. Okay, maybe twice if he's really good. It doesn't have to affect us. I love you; you know that."

I stared at her.

"How about some incentive?"

"What possible incentive could get me to agree to you having sex with someone else?"

She got a dangerous gleam on her face. "The university knows that I'm getting a lot of job offers. They desperately want to keep me here. They'll do anything I say, which includes following my recommendations for the funding committees. You have three students hoping for big grants. Understand what I'm saying?"

"No. What do you have to do with funding? What does funding have to do with your fucking that black guy?"

"I'm part of the outside review team. Grant me your approval to seduce Sabini, and I promise your students will get their grants. Deny me, the university might very well deny them."

I staggered backwards and fell into my chair. "Do you realize what you just promised? Penny, this has gone far enough. It's not funny anymore. Please, stop."

"Come on, honey. Indulge me."

I stared at her. She had gone too far. Way too far.

"Come on, I told you it's a one-time thing, two at most. You know I don't even like those kinds of people. You're not going to lose me to him, no matter how big his dick turns out to be."

"You don't like your niece and nephew?"

"They're family. I love them. What do they have to do with anything?"

"You said you don't like 'those kinds of people.' Your niece and nephew are 'those kind.'"

Penny pondered this for a moment and then burst out laughing. "I don't like journalists, you big dummy." She walked over and took my hand in hers. " You, I love even though you write articles. You should love me enough to hold your nose and let me do this."

I stood up, removed my hand from hers, put on a jacket, and headed towards the door.

"Don't walk out on your students," she said.

I felt her angry glare on my back. I looked at her, noticing her bright red skin for the first time, and the horns growing out of her head. Not really, but that was how I felt looking at her long piss-colored hair, inflated chest, balloon ass and flaming eyes. I drove to my office, and sent an email expressing interest to Australia National University in Canberra; not one of the schools trying to lure her.

Was Penny really going to go through with this, or was it one of her stunts? Either way, our relationship had changed. I called Jeremy, an acquaintance of mine who's an award-winning nature photographer. I asked him to take pictures of certain wildlife in Forest Park on Thursday morning.

He emailed me the photos on Sunday. I followed up with a phone call. "Is this as far as they went?" It was quite far, with Sabini rubbing her breasts, sucking her nipples. "It looks like the prelude to more."

"It might have gone further, but a noisy racoon stepped on a twig and put a quick halt to their activities. Sorry."

The next night, Penny didn't come home. I guessed that she and her black dick were continuing what had been interrupted in the park. On Tuesday morning I received a proposal from Canberra for a professorship/research position. I looked at the university's biology department; the school was big in quantum computing, not quantum biology. I didn't mention anything to Penny on Tuesday evening when she finally returned.

She may be brilliant, but she's not sensitive, or perhaps the word is empathetic. Whatever it is, she didn't detect my ongoing foul mood. Or maybe she detected it and just didn't give a shit.

When she didn't come home again a week later, I decided it was time to do something. The first was to accept the Australia offer. There was no way we were remaining together. I had no proof that they had fucked, or made love, whichever... But I knew my wife's determination when she latched onto an idea. I didn't need hard evidence, but I had an idea on how to get corroboration. It didn't take me long to dig up Sabini's phone number. I called a couple of days later, while Penny was at a scheduled departmental conference.

I stared at the phone for a moment before dialing.

"Hello?"

"Is this Ken Sabini?"

"Speaking."

"You don't know me, but we have a mutual acquaintance. I would appreciate if we could meet, to discuss the situation at hand."

"Who are you, who's our mutual acquaintance, and what situation's at hand?"

"My name is Larry Smith, our mutual acquaintance is my wife, Dr. Penny Smith, and the situation at hand is the breakdown of our marriage."

"Could you hold on a moment, please?" I heard what sounded like him walking away from the phone, and then returning a few seconds later.

"Yes, Professor Smith, how can I help you?"

"Ah, you've done your homework. You know who I am."

"Your wife told me you researched me. I was curious about someone who would allow his wife to experience 'black dick,' as she so delicately put it."

The phone remained silent for a moment. I heard him take a deep breath before I continued. "Is that what she told you?"

"Yeah, that you did research before giving her permission to satisfy her craving for black dick with me."

"Hold... hold on please..." I went to get a glass of water, composing myself. I had my confirmation. "Mr. Sabini, it would be to our mutual benefit if we could meet. Could I take you out for lunch, or if you prefer just for coffee? Name any quiet place you want. Are you near the Pearl district?"

"Yeah, there's a nice restaurant selling fried chicken. I suppose that's what Penny told you I like. Maybe we could order watermelon for dessert."

"My wife doesn't know I'm planning to meet with you. She doesn't know I'm planning to divorce her."

"Divorce? Why—"

"Mr. Sabini, could we talk in person? I suspect that my wife has not been completely forthright with you. I never gave her permission to satisfy her 'black dick craving,' as you put it."

"Tomorrow at one work for you? You called for this meeting, so you pick a restaurant."

"Bombay Gardens okay? Do you like Indian food?" I love curry. Bombay Gardens had excellent food, and the booths had high seat-backs amenable to privacy. It was expensive, but worth it to me.

"See you then."

Sabini walked into the restaurant wearing a "Rough Men" leather jacket. I waved him over to my table and immediately inquired about the patch. He explained that the name was taken from something Winston Churchill said. He hoped, he told me, that his motorcycle club could fulfill that role in our increasingly volatile city.

"I admire your intentions, Mr. Sabini. If you can make this work, you will prevent many personal injuries. Unfortunately, given the mood of much of our population, I don't think you'll be able to tone down people's hostility towards those who don't hold the exact same view as them."

"And why is that, Professor Smith?"

"Please, it's Larry."

"Ken," he replied.

"Okay, Ken..." I gave him the abbreviated explanation of my theories on violence and civilization. He asked pointed questions and raised relevant objections. I could quickly see that he had a sharp mind and a pleasant demeanor. I couldn't consider the man who had been deceived into fucking my wife as an enemy; he had been misled. Who was the bad guy here? Penny, clearly.

We finally got around to that issue around halfway through the main course.

"Do you want to have a long-term relation with Penny? Our marriage is dead, so feel free. I would like to officially bury it as soon as possible."

"Is her relationship with me what killed it?"

"She was hunting for a black man to have sex with; she settled on you as her quarry. It was the decision to hunt that killed it."

"But you went along with it?"

I put down my fork, looked in his eyes, and sighed. "I never agreed. She thought she could blackmail me into it by holding my students hostage. She assumed she succeeded."

Sabini shook his head. "I never knew she was married. Not until I told her I wanted a long-term relation with her." He gesticulated with his fork. "How can someone so smart be such a racist?"

"Huh?"

Sabini ran his hand through his hair, scratched his nose, and grimaced. "Dr. Smith's first response on why she couldn't marry me was because I'm black and she's white. She talked about my kinky hair, pug nose, loose morals... Then she complained that I'm one of the moral type Negros. She wondered why I didn't order fried chicken and watermelon when we went out to eat."

"Her sister is married to a Jamaican. Their kids are darker than you, and she's crazy about them. When their grandparents came up from Montego Bay Penny insisted on spending time with them. They all love her."

"I'm not making it up. Your wife came on to me as a nasty racist. She even mentioned her 'Uncle Bill' in the Aryan Nations, who likes to go coon hunting. She implied he would be coming after me if I pressed the issue."

I thought about this for a moment. When I figured out the reference I started to laugh. "Uncle Guillermo Figuero is an accountant, whose firm assigned him to do the books of the Aryan Nations just to irritate them. He's a big, tough guy, ex-marine, immune to intimidation. He likes to go upcountry for a week at a time to go hunting, racoons included."

Sabini looked flustered. "What the hell is going on? Is your wife a pathological liar? Or is she just cruel? Does she twist and distort her science data?"

That question frightened me. Facts apparently didn't matter to her when it came to love, marriage or sex. Would it matter in the pursuit of scientific truth? "I don't know..." We both silently resumed eating as we pondered the possibility of my genius wife being a fraud.

Ken sighed. "I doubt it. She couldn't have gotten this far in her academic career, faking it. I mean, I know there are lots of stories about hoax articles being published by respected peer-reviewed journals, but those are mostly in the social sciences and humanities. Those fields are ninety five percent bullshit."

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"I said ninety-five, not a hundred percent."

I kept looking at him.

"I've seen your stuff. In my not-so-humble opinion, you're part of the five percent."

"Ken, you're a journalist. Maybe you should research the validity of her material. Is that something that falls within the parameters of your work?"

"I've got to make a living from this, you know, and avoid getting sued. If scientists think that I'm a dirt-digger, no one will talk to me anymore."

The waiter came and removed our plates, then returned to enquire if we wanted any tea or coffee. We both settled on tea along with Sandesh, a sweet cottage cheese dessert.

"Professor Smith, what are you trying to do now? Why did you insist on meeting me?"

"I told you, call me Larry. I can't stay married to her anymore. She is too wrapped up in herself, in her own brilliance. A divorce will tarnish her self-image, and she will fight it."

"You want me to be the evidence."

"I honestly don't know what I want."

"I wouldn't like to testify in court about our affair."

"Ken, I love my wife and I loathe her. I suspect your feelings run along the same lines. She caused me tremendous pain. I want her to feel that pain, but I don't want to hurt her. I know that makes no sense."

Sabini nodded and smiled. I continued. "If it were to come out in public that she tried to use her position on the funding committee to blackmail me, it could destroy her academic future. Neither of us would be happy with that."

"I have no knowledge of the funding threat."

The waiter brought our desserts. I added milk and Splenda to my coffee, then looked in Sabini's eyes. "I'm meeting with my lawyer tomorrow. Can I give him your phone number?"

He quickly gobbled his Sandesh. It was sickly sweet; it was so good. Sabini put down his coffee cup and stared at it. "He can call me. I don't know if it will do you any good, but he can call." There was pain in his voice.

"She really got to you..."

"I thought she was perfect. I told her I wanted to get to know her better and maybe eventually marry her. I guess I was getting above my raisin."

I smiled involuntarily when Sabini used her old southern expression.

"Then your wife laid the smack-down on me. First by being a vile racist, second, by already being married. From what you've told me maybe she isn't such a racist and maybe she isn't going to be married much longer. But her character, her impulsive behavior, her willingness to deceive; those can't be denied."

"Ken, I appreciate your meeting with me. I don't know what I expected, never mind what I wanted from this meeting. I'm overwhelmed, trying to figure her out."

The man had clearly fallen hard for Penny. I could understand that. I had fallen so hard that I married her, despite knowing how impulsive she could be. What more could I say to Ken? More importantly, what should I say to my wife?

My lawyer told me there was nothing that needed saying. Fault was irrelevant in the dissolution of a marriage and everything, even our pensions were to be divided fifty-fifty unless we reached an agreement otherwise. My hopes for an expedited dissolution were dashed because we had too many assets. Just our cars put us over the line.

The meetings with Sabini and the lawyer did nothing to help me figure things out. I went home that evening, more frustrated than ever. I slammed the front door and yelled "Penny!"

No response. I could hear water running, so I went over to the bathroom. I found my wife taking a shower; six in the evening and she was taking a shower. She yelped when she realized I was watching her through the translucent shower door.

"You startled me! You should make more noise, unless you're planning to re-enact a scene from Psycho."