Reunion: Aftermath

Reunion: Aftermath

I would like to thank Tyler Blair for giving me permission to write this sequel to his story, "Reunion." In that story, a cheating wife details the way she publicly humiliated and cuckolded her husband at a high school reunion. This short sequel is the husband's response.

I would also like to thank those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

1. Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.
2. All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.
3. Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

I read the letter left on the kitchen table by my soon-to-be ex-wife, Julia, for the fifth time and shook my head. She left this letter for me the day after that fateful reunion where she publicly humiliated and cuckolded me with that son-of-a-bitch, Jules Connor.

I hadn't seen her very much since that reunion for a few reasons. First off, she decided she needed another couple of trysts with Connor, despite my warnings. Second, both of us work. But the most important reason is that for a bit more than a week, she's been in the hospital. She was taken there one day after she collapsed at work.

They did what they could, but were unable to figure out what was going on with her. I had seen her symptoms before and offered my suggestions to the hospital staff, but they dismissed my suggestions. I only work as a biomedical researcher, after all.

So they continued running tests and scratching their heads. By the time they figured out that Michael Conroy -- that's me, by the way -- was onto something, it was too late and there was too much damage to Julia's system. Her body was starting to shut down and there was nothing they could do except try to keep her comfortable.

On one hand, I hated to see what was happening to her, but on the other hand, I was glad she was out of the house. At least my nostrils wouldn't be constantly assaulted by the stench of her cheating. I picked up the letter Julie left me and scanned it one more time.

I needed to respond to her, and I needed to do it soon. It wasn't unusual for her to communicate with me with long, steamy letters, and I always enjoyed reading her missives. Her meticulous, flowery cursive writing was a joy to read and her letters always got me excited.

But this letter -- not so much. For starters, she had misread so many things that fateful night. That really didn't surprise me, though, given how it all happened. I grabbed another cup of coffee, sat down with pen and paper, and began writing:

Julia,

I have received and read your letter of December 1, and I must say I am very disappointed in you. For many reasons.

Let me start by saying I was happy and proud to call you my wife. After all, I was married to a gorgeous woman with a body that can only be described as a walking wet dream. Yes, you were a bit slutty that night, but to be honest, I was okay with it at the time. I loved looking at you, admiring your curves and yes, I admit I liked it when the rest of the world knew that you were my woman.

Better yet, I knew that I was the man who would take you home, undress you and make sweet love to you. I'll never forget what we had and shared for five wonderful years, two of those as husband and wife. In that time, you were the most loving, thoughtful, supportive, and yes, faithful, woman I had ever known in my entire life. You were my reason for existing.

I suppose I felt as though I had a right to be proud. A wonderful wife, a good home, a great job, accolades from my peers -- I had it all. And I simply wanted to show it off just a bit.

You are correct that Jules Connor was the biggest bully I had ever known, and yes, he taunted me mercilessly since the fourth grade. That's why I took up martial arts in my senior year of high school. I continued even through my time as a medic in the Army.

In fact, I could have wiped the floor with Jules, but unfortunately, several of his friends, a couple of whom happened to be local police officers, were there to ensure I didn't. Had he taken a swing at me, though, things might've ended a bit differently and we wouldn't be in this situation.

I saw how you reacted to his taunts and I noticed the way you flirted back. I also saw the way your skin began to flush as he put the moves on you. I watched the way the two of you danced and I knew something was wrong.

Before you walked out the door with him, I tried to change your mind. You claimed in your letter that I never said anything, but that's false and you know it. Perhaps you just chose to ignore me. The truth is, I warned you that if you went with him you would regret it for the rest of your life. You sneered at me as you told me in no uncertain terms that it was your body and you would do what you wanted.

Yes, you chose him over me that night. And to paraphrase an old movie, you chose... poorly. I'm sure you realize that now.

I wondered what could make you act the way you did that night. I had never seen such behavior from you before, and I wondered if maybe old Jules had managed to invent some kind of "slut ray" to use against you.

Before we left, I managed to get a couple of the glasses from which you drank. As you may recall, those glasses contained drinks Jules and his friends brought to you. I had them tested and guess what? They were laced with all kinds of drugs -- Ecstasy, you name it.

That's right, Jules and his buddies drugged you that night. And I suspect he drugged you the next time you met. But that's neither here nor there since the real damage was done the first time he ejaculated inside you. Let me explain.

You see, Jules and I served in the same unit in the Army after high school. Yes, he tried bullying me there as well, and even took a swing at me once, much to his regret. After I bounced his stupid face off the concrete sidewalk a couple times like a basketball, he left me alone for the most part, but we never really got along well.

Our unit was sent on a mission to deliver humanitarian aid to a third-world island nation that had been ravaged by a hurricane. As a medic, I was busy tending to the injured while Jules' unit drove supplies to various locations on the island.

One day, Jules reported to the infirmary complaining about pain in his groin, especially when he urinated. It didn't take a highly-trained medical degree to know he had picked up a sexually-transmitted disease. I took all the tests and cultures and gave him the usual treatment, which included a warning to abstain from sex.

The tests came back positive, but the doctor and I were both stunned to see that the STD he picked up was quite different from anything either of us had ever seen before. It was more aggressive and resistant to the usual treatment. Under the microscope, it looked very much like a standard strain of gonorrhea, but it was quite different.

Jules continued to suffer from several symptoms -- headache, fever, pain in the groin, discharge, delirium, joint pain, you name it. A lot like some of your symptoms. It wasn't very pretty. He nearly died a couple times. I stayed with him and did everything I could to ease his suffering. In fact, I saved his life. We prescribed everything possible to treat the symptoms.

Eventually, his symptoms passed. But subsequent tests showed the bacteria that caused the infection was still inside him -- it had just gone dormant. The doctor worked up a complex set of orders and directions and Jules was sent back to the States where he would be constantly monitored by the CDC. Before he was put on the transport to the aircraft that would take him away, however, he told me in no uncertain terms he would get back at me for ruining his military career.

In short, he blamed me for his poor judgment and his actions. I believe what he did to you that night and the subsequent nights were a result of that threat. I never heard about Jules after that. I finished my tour in the military, went to college where I met you, and the rest, as they say, is history.

So yes, I was stunned when I saw him at the reunion. I was even more stunned when I saw your reaction to him. Yes, I was heartbroken when I watched him fuck you the way he did. Worse yet, I was unable to do anything about it. His buddies, a couple of whom happened to be armed at the time, made sure of that.

There was a reason I didn't say anything or take any action while he had his way with you. You see, one of his buddies had the muzzle of a.38 caliber pistol jammed in my side out of everyone's view. You didn't know that at the time, though, did you? Something tells me you probably wouldn't have cared even if you did.

When you stumbled back into the venue, I couldn't help but see the evidence of what he had done -- it was running down your leg and matted in your hair. I'm sure you didn't realize it that night, but the first time he ejaculated inside you, he killed you. Your body just didn't know it at the time.

You claimed that you love me, but your actions that night told a different story. Did you notice that from that moment on, I never once touched you? Did it dawn on you that I always wore latex gloves when you were in the house? Did you ever wonder about that?

And do you remember I urged you to see a doctor immediately afterward? Do you remember me telling you that you needed to get tested when you started feeling poorly? Do you remember your reaction? You waved me off, saying it was just a UTI and would pass.

But it didn't pass, did it? In fact, your symptoms got worse with each passing day. Instead of getting tested and seeing a doctor as I suggested, you decided to visit Jules since, as you put it, I wouldn't perform my husbandly duties. I told you why I wouldn't touch your diseased body, but you just dismissed my concerns, laughing in my face.

I get the impression you're not laughing now, though, are you? Remember when you asked me if I was going to file for divorce? I told you at the time I wouldn't. You laughed and said it was because I was a beta wimp and a cuckold like Jules said. The truth is, I knew you wouldn't survive long enough to see any divorce become final.

And I was right, wasn't I? So tell me, dear wife, was Jules' big cock worth what you're going through now? I'll bet you wished you had listened to me at the reunion. Who knows, if you had, we'd be starting to work on our family right about now. But that's not going to happen, is it?

As for Jules, you should know that he and his buddies are in custody right now. I'm sure Jules never told you he was infected with a life-threatening STD when he fucked you bareback, did he? Turns out that's a violation of the law in this state. Don't worry, though. Before long, he'll be facing even worse charges.

So I hope your tryst with Jules was worth it. I'm sure you can honestly say it was the most expensive fuck of your relatively short life.

And don't worry about me. There are quite a few lovely women who've already taken an interest in a soon-to-be widowed man. I've been practicing and I'm pretty sure I can pull off the role of a grieving spouse.

Goodbye and enjoy what's left of your life.

Your soon-to-be widowed husband,

Michael

P.S. I've already taken care of your final arrangements, so you have nothing to worry about there. After your autopsy, your body will be donated to science. After all, it would be a crying shame to not learn what we can about the effects of the STD Jules gave you. Once the research is finished, your remains will be cremated and given to your parents, if they want them. I just felt you have a right to know.

And yes, your parents know the whole story, and they agree with my assessment that this is the best option. They're not very happy about it, but they understood after I told them the whole story.

And before I forget, I took the liberty of giving your things away. Your parents said they wanted whatever pictures I didn't want, so I gave them all away. I intend to give whatever is left over to Goodwill since I plan to remodel the house once you're gone.

...

I read and re-read the letter. Satisfied with what I had written, I folded it up and put it into an envelope, then wrote her name on the front. I warmed up my coffee and stepped out back to enjoy a cigarette -- something I had given up after my time in the Army. Yes, it's a nasty habit, but unfortunately, recent events had caused me to re-evaluate a few things.

Afterward, I locked the house, jumped in my car, and headed out. When I got to my destination, I walked inside and made my way to Julia's room, where I donned a face mask, a pair of latex gloves, and a smock. She was on her bed, tubes, and wires connected to her disease-ravaged body. I looked at the nurse with her.

"What's her status?" I asked. She shook her head. I understood the meaning. "How much longer?"

"Not much. Hours, maybe a couple days at most," she said sadly. "Her body is shutting down. It won't be much longer now." I nodded my head in understanding.

"The next time she wakes up, would you give her this, please?" I asked, handing her the envelope. She took it from me, probably thinking it was a letter declaring my love for Julia.

"Of course," she said. "I'll take care of it personally. You're welcome to stay as long as you wish, though."

"Thank you," I said. She gathered her notes and headed for the door.

"Why don't you stay with her, at least for a few minutes," she said. "I'll be right around the corner if you need anything." She left before I could respond. I had originally planned to just leave the letter and go, but I realized I needed closure. I looked back at Julia and saw her eyes had opened.

"Michael," she said weakly. "Please..." I held up my hand to quiet her and gave her the unopened letter. She took it in one bony hand and opened the envelope. I was struck by how much weight she had lost in such a short period of time. She pulled out the letter and read it, tears falling down her face.

Her hands shook as she read the letter and I could see my words had hit her hard. Good. I'm not normally a vindictive person, but her betrayal at my reunion had brought out the worst in me. Tears flowed freely down her face when she finished. Normally, I would have taken her in my arms and tried to comfort her. Not this time. In fact, I stayed a good six feet from her bed.

"I'm so... sorry," she whispered. "Please, forgive me, Michael. I'm begging you." I thought for a moment, then shook my head.

"I can't, Julia," I said. "The cold-hearted way you did what you did is just too much. I warned you, but you didn't want to hear anything I said. Your pussy over-ruled your brain. Now, you're paying the price. And soon, Jules will also pay for what he did."

"Don't you love me?" she cried.

"Not anymore," I said, causing her to sob. "I did, once. But I don't know who or what you are anymore. Yes, Jules drugged you. But you should've listened to me. And that letter you left -- well, that spoke volumes to me. Do you want forgiveness? Look in the dictionary. Or try asking that God you used to worship when you were younger. You'll get none from me."

"Don't you have any feelings for me at all?" she asked weakly through her sobs.

"Yes," I said. "For the most part, I feel disgusted."

"Why are you being so mean to me?" she asked. "I'm dying here."

"Seriously?" I responded. I looked and saw a small hand-held mirror on the countertop. I grabbed it and put it in front of her face. "Take a good long look. THAT'S why. You killed me that day at the reunion. You may as well have put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger. And that last letter was the straw that broke the camel's back. This is on you, Julia. I feel bad that you're dying, but the truth is, you made your choice. Now you get to deal with the consequences."

I set the mirror back on the countertop and started for the door. I looked back at her when I got there, figuring this would be the last time I would ever see her alive. She shook as she sobbed in her bed. "Goodbye, Julia," I said before walking out. I passed the nurse in the hallway and saw the angry look she gave me. Oh, well. I got in my car and headed home.

My phone woke me up at 3:30 the next morning. I looked and saw it was the hospice. I had a good idea what had happened, but I answered the call anyway.

"Mr. Williams, this is LifeCare Hospice," the woman said. "I'm calling to inform you that your wife passed away just a few minutes ago."

"Thank you for letting me know," I said.

"Um, I see here that an autopsy has been ordered and her body is being donated to science. Is that correct?" the woman asked. I could tell by her tone that she didn't approve. Too bad.

"Yes, that's correct," I said.

"Okay," she said. "We'll take care of the transport, then. You can come by any time to collect her things."

"Thank you," I said.

"I also see in her record that a Detective Samuels of the Metropolitan Police Department is to be notified of her death," she said.

"That is correct," I said.

"Very well, sir," she said. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Williams."

"I appreciate that," I said before we ended the call. I called her parents to let them know. They thanked me for informing them. Since her body would be donated to science, there would be no funeral. If her parents wanted a memorial service, they could arrange it without any input from me.

I had no desire to put out any money for one, and I had no plans to attend a service for her. She was now gone and out of my life for good. At least I could look at myself in the mirror and honestly say I remained true to our vows to the end, even if she didn't.

I went to work the next day and was told by my boss in no uncertain terms to take bereavement leave and see a counselor to deal with my anger and grief. My boss, a very understanding and perceptive woman, handed me a card with the name of a counselor and made it clear I was not welcome back in the workplace until I had at least arranged an appointment.

I did all the things one normally does after the loss of a "loved" one -- I took the death certificate to Julia's company and made the final arrangements. Everyone offered their condolences, which I graciously accepted.

As Julia's beneficiary, I was entitled to her 401K, which held about $25,000, and her company life insurance policy, which paid two and a half times her annual salary at the time of her death. I did the math in my head and figured that would be just north of $110,000 -- more than enough to pay off her portion of the hospital bills plus enough to fund a summer cruise to the Caribbean.

The autopsy report confirmed what I already knew, and Jules Connor was charged with premeditated murder with special circumstances. I testified at his trial, which didn't last very long. Connor had already admitted he did not inform Julia of his STD and knew the possible outcome of his actions. The jury quickly came back with a guilty verdict.

Two weeks later, the judge sentenced Jules to death by lethal injection. His cohorts claimed they knew nothing of his STD, but were nevertheless found guilty of lesser charges and sentenced to five years in state prison.