Reality Check

'Yeah, isn't that convenient.' He thought. 'That the quack you want me to see is a woman. You two are probably in on this together. That fucking quack probably spent a whole bunch of sessions telling you how fucking around on me would be good for precious fucking self-esteem... And worst of all, I paid for every one of those god damn sessions. Now I'll bet you think that quack is going to brainwash me into letting you keep doing it. I'm guessing she will try to convince me this was all somehow my idea...'

"Bill... Bill... Did you hear me?" Jennifer raised her voice a bit to break into Bills train of thought. "Please tell me you will go see Doctor Weiss."

"Okay, okay. What ever you want. I'll go see the damn doctor." He grumbled, knowing he had no intention of letting some quack convince him he shouldn't be mad at her. "Are we done here?"

"I guess so for now, but we're not through. We need to get to the bottom of this Bill."

"That's no lie." Bill mumbled as he got up and walked away.

Bill left the room feeling like Jennifer had ambushed him. Her attitude seemed to be one of "It's my free time, and I'll fuck whomever I want." She also seemed to have a smugness about her that implied that she knew full well that Bill would never divorce her because of the money he would lose. It was as if she was acting as if this whole thing wasn't a problem, just waiting for him to give in.

Bill felt cornered. Every outcome he could foresee in this mess was unacceptable. Worst of all Jennifer was acting almost as if nothing had changed. Why was she so calm? How could she so convincing keep denying what she had done. She knew he had the tape. What was her game? When would she ever fess up and face the consequences?

Jennifer was putting on a nice face, but to Bill, that made her seem even more cold and conniving. From this point on he knew he had to be careful. Everything he said would likely be documented. Any wrong step... any outburst of anger... could easily land him back in jail.

Bill decided that his best offense was a good defense. He needed to act as normal as he possibly could, at least for the next few days. Once he had the money from the second mortgage, he could put the final part of his plan into action. After that, he would be free to act however the fuck he wanted.

Bill got up at the usual time the next morning, got dressed as always, and left for work right on time, but Bill didn't go straight to work. Instead he went by the bank and signed the papers, closing the second mortgage on his home.

Later that morning he sat in his office cruising the Internet, looking for ways to get rid of all that cash. A search on how to lose money quickly brought up an article about a baseball player losing millions in Vegas... and then it hit him.

Bill knew just what to do. He needed to develop a temporary gambling problem. That was exactly what the doctor ordered. A few strategically placed stupid bets, and that money would be as good as gone. And who could blame him? After all it was his gambling addiction that lost that money, not him.

There was a casino in the next city over. One of those limited stakes places where little old ladies chain smoke while they feed their social security money into those machines that constantly ring one bell or another for no particular reason. This place had blackjack, roulette, craps... the usual games. It wasn't Vegas, but a place like this would certainly do.

Bill was in the casino by early afternoon. With a stack of chips, he sat down at a blackjack table and started losing. Then he won a couple of hands, before losing a couple more. This just wasn't working. Like with any casino, the money was going away. It just wasn't going away fast enough.

Next he tried roulette. He bet the limit on what seemed like a long-shot, and damned if he didn't win back everything he had lost at blackjack table and then some. This would never do. He just couldn't do what he needed to do with the betting limits being what they were. He had to find another game. Something where he could bet big and lose it all.

He wandered the casino floor. Betting bits and pieces here and there. Winning some and losing some. Trying different games until he stumbled upon exactly what he was looking for... It was called unlimited sports betting.

Bill stepped up to the cage and grabbed a betting sheet. There listed all the way at the bottom was the least likely team to win much of anything. Bill didn't know much about baseball, and he knew even less about sports betting, but what he saw on that paper made him smile.

The odds for the laughing stock of the Major Leagues to even win their next game were a long shot. The chances that they would make the playoffs were astronomical. This was exactly what he needed. Bill plunked down every penny he had for this hapless team of misfits to win the World Series, and left for home.

That night Jennifer snuggled up to Bill, dressed in her sexiest night shirt and no panties. Clearly she was wanting to have sex, but Bill recoiled. For the first time since he had met Jennifer, Bill turned down sex, claiming that his stomach was in knots and that he felt like he might vomit. There was a fair amount of truth in his claim, as he was still so repulsed by her touch that it made him sick.

The next day Bill once again got up with his alarm and dressed for work as usual. He was about to leave when Jennifer stopped him.

"You aren't forgetting are you? You have that appointment with Doctor Weiss this morning. Please don't miss it."

"Okay, okay. Stop with all the nagging already. I know when the appointment is."

"I hate to nag you Bill, but I'm afraid you'll forget. I'd take you there myself but I'm working at the campaign center today. Just go. She will help you get over whatever this is that's bugging you."

"Okay, I said I'd go. I'll go."

Bill had no intention of going to see Doctor Weiss, but he wasn't about to tell Jennifer that. He figured his whore of a wife was probably just trying to make sure he would be busy that morning so she could be make another rendezvouses with her big dick lover.

Instead of going to the doctor Bill bought a wig and some dark sunglasses. Then he went on a stakeout. If she did go see her lover... If she was actually that bold... Surely this time, he would catch her in the act.

Bill parked just down the street from congressman Alderman's downtown campaign office, where Jennifer said she would be volunteering. Bill figured a joint like that had to be full of slimy, corrupt politicians. The perfect place for Jennifer to meet the kind of creep who is low enough to fuck another man's wife.

As he looked around he noticed not one, but two large hotels, both within walking distance of the campaign office, and one of them was a Hilton. Bill had forgotten that there were two Hiltons in town, and now it looked as if he had simply gone to the wrong one the other day.

Wrong hotel or not, Bill didn't have to wait long. Jennifer hadn't been so clever after all. He had only been there a few minutes and he saw the man from the video walk into the campaign office. At least Bill thought it was the same man. He was pretty sure it was the guy, even though it was kind of hard to tell with his clothes on.

Now all Bill had to do was walk into that office and catch that asshole kissing and pawing at his wife. Then he would be sure. He yanked off his stupid disguise and headed toward the building.

The place was pretty much empty when Bill walked in. Other than one young volunteer working in the back, he didn't see another soul. Not his wife, not the man, not anyone. The place was full of folding tables, mailers and fliers. A few signs saying "Defeat Coleman" sat against the back wall.

Just beyond those signs was a hallway leading to the restroom, and right next to the signs was the door to an office. Of course that door was conveniently closed. Bill quietly slipped over and tried the door, but it was locked. So he took a step back and stared at the door's frosted glass window, knowing that his wife and her lover were probably inside that room kissing, or even worse.

Bill stepped to his left to get a better view, trying to make out the blurry figures silhouetted on that frosted glass. It could have been someone hanging up a jacket, but to Bill it looked more like a couple embracing. It had to be. That was the only explanation. Jennifer wasn't out in the room working on the campaign like she was supposed to be. She just had to be inside that office. She was almost certainly with that asshole again.

He had her dead to rights now. All he had to do was wait. Bill sat at one of the tables and started thumbing through a stack of political fliers, waiting for that office door to swing open so he could tell his wife they were finished, and punch the asshole she was with square in the face.

Box by box he ran his fingers over the tops of fliers as he waited. Listening hard to see if he could hear so much as a nervous giggle from Jennifer.

Then Bill was startled by a woman's voice coming from behind him. "Are you here to volunteer?"

"Yes... That's right. I'm here to um, volunteer." Bill tentatively answered, not taking his eyes off of the office door.

"Well those aren't the fliers for this month. We need you over here. Come, let me show you what we are doing."

Bill's run in with hotel security and then the police were fresh on his mind. He knew it was in his best interest to play along this time. He followed the woman to another table, all while trying to keep one eye on that office door.

"Okay now," said the woman. "This is pretty simple. The number of fliers that goes in each box is labeled on the box. Fold and count them as you put them in. When a box is full, we put one of these delivery slips on top... Oh bother, where did those slips run off to."

Instinctively, Bill looked down to help find the missing slips. It didn't take much to find them. Someone had set them on a chair and pushed it up under the table. As he reached down to help retrieve the box of slips, he heard the sound of the office door closing.

Bill's spun around like his head was on a swivel looking for Jennifer, but he saw no one. Somehow he had missed hearing the door open, and he had failed to see who had come out of the office as well. Then he heard the sound of a door being unlatched at the end of the hallway next to the restroom.

"Um, I've got to pee." Bill urgently said to the woman.

The woman started to point to the restroom, but Bill was already halfway there. When Bill reached the hallway he saw the emergency exit door at the end of the hall inching closed.

'They must have known I was here and made a break for it.' Bill thought. 'They can't get away from me that easily.' He silently vowed.

Just before that exit door latched shut, Bill slammed it back open and burst out into the alleyway, quickly looking left and right for his wife and her fuck toy. There, at the far end of the alley. He saw the man. Briskly walking out of the alley, turning to go down the street.

Bill gave chase. He was going to catch that asshole if it was the last thing he ever did. It was broad daylight, but Bill didn't care. Even if there were witnesses all around. Even if he couldn't pummel this pretty boy's face into the ground right then and there, he was at least going rough him up enough to get some god dammed answers.

As Bill turned the corner coming out of the alley, he saw the man getting into a car. There was no way Bill would be able to catch him now. Not on foot anyway. Bill ran as fast as he had ever run, back down the length of the alley and out the other end. Bill's car was parked right across from there. If he was lucky he would be able to catch up with that wife stealing douche bag.

As luck would have it the man got stuck at a traffic light, just two cars in front of Bill. His luck was changing. Now he knew he could do this. He felt like he was about to make the asshole that was fucking his wife pay.

The man was easy enough to follow. His car was like no other. It had a big white sticker saying Defeat Coleman in red lettering stuck right above the license place where no one would miss it.

Besides that, it wasn't like the douche bag was trying to get away from Bill. The dip shit didn't even know he was being followed. He drove through the city like an old woman, then crept out onto the Interstate slowly heading south. The guy stayed in the right lane, creeping along for a few miles before lazily drifting down the last exit before the Spaghetti Junction interchange, and Bill was right behind him the whole way.

He followed the guy to what looked to be his destination, and Bill couldn't believe his eyes. Damn it all if that asshole he didn't drive right into parking garage of the same Hilton hotel that Bill had gotten kicked out of just a couple of days before.

"Ah Hah!" Bill shouted into his windshield. "This was the right place. You were fucking my wife here. I've got you now you son of a bitch."

But as Bill tried to follow the man into the parking garage, one of those burly security guards blocked his path and pointed down the street, clearing telling him that he needed to move along.

'They must have my license plate on file,' Bill thought as he pulled into a nearby parking lot. 'A minor setback. I'll just put this wig back on and sneak in past those lunkhead security pricks and find that fucking bastard.'

How could those fucking guards possibly stop him now. Even if they were watching on video cameras, he almost looked like a woman in that wig. He figured he should be able to waltz right into the place. But just like before, Bill was denied. It seemed that once his car was spotted, an alert was sent out and sentries were posted. Everyone was on high alert, and he was turned away at every door.

Bill wasn't about to let that stop him. He was determined to get that fucker. He had another plan. One where he wouldn't use any of the normal hotel entrances. One where he would get into that place using a door they would never think to post a guard.

Bill went down the very same alley he had been thrown into just days before, and climbed up onto the trash dumpster he had landed next to. From there he scaled over the back wall of the parking garage. Then he set out to find the most obscure service entrance possible, hoping to silently slip into the hotel.

As he looked for that obscure entrance Bill saw something that he hadn't counted on. Something that completely changed his plan. There was that "Beat Coleman" bumper sticker staring him right in the face. Bill had accidentally found the douche bag's car.

Bill's new plan was this. Now the man who was fucking his wife would come to him, and then Bill would get those answers he wanted. Bill leaned against the man's car for a while, then went and sat on the hood. After that he thought in might be better to wait nearby, thinking the element of surprise would be in his favor. As he looked around for the perfect place to wait, he happened by a plumber's truck.

Then something changed Bill's mind once again. Fuck asking this douche bag any questions, Bill thought as he pulled a scrap of heavy pipe from that truck. That son of a bitch deserves to get exactly what he's got coming, and I'm going to be the one that gives it to him. That wife stealing asshole is going to wish he never even heard the name Jennifer Simms.

Then Bill hid. Lying in wait. Clutching that pipe. Waiting for the man who fucked his wife to return. Hours went by. Bill had to pee. He tired to hold it, but couldn't wait any longer. He thought about wetting himself, but decided to go behind a nearby van instead.

As he came out from behind the van, Bill couldn't believe his luck. There he was! The man had just exited the garage elevator. Even better, the man seemed to be preoccupied and didn't even notice Bill was there. He just turned and walked towards his car.

This was it. Do or die. Bill walked up behind the man and raised his weapon. "Turn around asshole." He ordered. "Meet the man who's going to make you stop fucking other men's wives."

The man turned around and saw Bill in his wig and laughed. "What are you going to do with that, faggot?" The man chided.

Bill swung the pipe down as hard as he could, and felt a bone crunching impact... to his own jaw. Then he was stunned by a fist square to his nose, and then another crushing blow to the side of his face.

Bill let go of the pipe as he went down, half conscious and half dazed. He curled into a ball to protect himself, as a viscous barrage of kicks and stomps landed on his his back and ribs, trying to find his head.

Just when it seemed the attack was over, Bill felt the sharp blow to the back of his skull, followed by his forehead violently bouncing off the pavement. Then everything went dark.

When Bill woke up he found himself laying between metal railings. He could faintly hear the bustle of a hospital emergency room through the ringing in his ears, and woman in nursing scrubs was holding his wrist looking worried as she tried to find a pulse. A police officer stood nearby, scowling at him.

Though not fully conscious, Bill was aware enough to be concerned. Even though it didn't work out as planned, he had just assaulted a politician. Bill had no chance to escape. The police were already there. They must already know what he did. He instantly had visions of spending months, or even years in jail.

"Is he awake?" Bill heard the officer ask. "Can I interrogate him?"

"Yes, I think he can answer some questions... but make it brief." The nurse answered as she gently placed Bills arm back at his side.

"Did you see who attacked you sir." The officer asked as he moved up to Bill's bedside and pressed his tiny pencil to his notepad. "How many of them were there? Did you get a good look at their faces. Can you remember anything that will help me get the punks that tried to kill you off our streets for good?"

As groggy as he was, Bill knew he couldn't tell officer what really happened. He couldn't let anyone know he was actually the one with the pipe. With his previous arrest he would surely be tagged as a violent offender, and his pending divorce would become an unmitigated disaster.

For a brief moment Bill thought about blaming his beating on those muscle headed security guards back that hotel, but they would each likely have a rock solid alibi. So Bill took his cues from the officer's questions, and quickly made up a story about being mugged by a gang of street thugs in the alley. Finishing it with a nice little lie about how he had bravely crawled into the hotel garage looking for help.

In the days after he was released from the hospital Jennifer doted over Bill, showering him with love and doing everything she could to help him heal. The whole time Bill felt lower than low. He cringed every time Jennifer touched him, not wanting to take comfort from the wife that was fucking the very man who had nearly beaten him to death.

At that point Bill felt as if he might actually be that weak pathetic man his wife was talking about in the video. What kind of man can't defend his honor? Who lets another man fuck his wife, then gets the shit beat out of himself over it? Totally humiliated, Bill wished for nothing more than to be done with this life forever.

A couple of weeks after the beating, Bill sat in his office, thinking of everything that had happened to him. "Well it's back to Plan-A, I guess." He muttered to himself. "I can do this." He went on talking to himself as if someone was actually there to listen. "It won't be long before I'm back on top again either. I've done it once before and I'll do it again. Without that cheating whore spending all of my money, I could easily become a millionaire in no time."